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bittertarinetea · 4 years

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The Day General Hux Died

Rating: G

This is the story of how Hux, the esteemed General of the First Order, died—and how Armitage lived on.

Warning: Contains TROS spoilers!

Notes: If you’re still here, you’re probably just as unhappy about the way Hux was treated in TROS. Hopefully, this fic provides just a tiny bit of solace--lmk what you think!

-- --

Hux had picked up the habit of wearing a bulletproof vest under his First Order uniform from the minute he met Allegiant General Pryde.

Stiff and arrogant, the man reminded him every bit of Grand Moff Tarkin—based off what he’d heard about the late commander, at least. Except, Enric Pryde wasn’t Tarkin, and the two disliked each other from the moment Hux had been ordered to work alongside him in the ship Pryde commanded, the Steadfast.

It wasn’t just the fact that Pryde thought Hux below him in rank (which was true, but the two worked so often together that it hardly felt that way at all), or the snide remarks he often passed about him during meetings with the ever-insufferable Kylo Ren (which happened during each one without fail) or the petty shoulders he gave him in the middle of the practically mile-wide corridors of the ship (which was silly and childish, in his opinion, for a grown man of 62 years).

Call it a hunch—or rather, a feeling—but Hux only trusted Pryde about as far as he could shoot the man with a Death Star superlaser. Ever since the first wooden handshake, the first cold nod, Hux had had a Quantum-crystalline mesh-lined vest commissioned in secret and began to don it underneath his uniform each day.

The vest was cold and not made for long-term wear, but it was surely worlds warmer and more comfortable than a blast from a SE-44C. That was a trade-off that Hux was willing to make.

And that was the trade-off that saved his life.

“...We’ve found our spy.”

Hux heard the tail-end of Pryde’s clipped, chilly accent as he laid on the floor, too stunned to move an inch. He’d been standing behind the Allegiant General just moments ago, telling him the lie he’d practised on the way to the Steadfast’s command bridge—

—And the next thing he knew, the business end of Pryde’s blaster had been pointed right at his chest, followed by a flash of red; a short, echoing blast, then pain—lots of it.

It took every inch of nerve in his body to remain still on the cold floor of the bridge surrounded, humiliatingly, by the ship’s crew, but Hux managed to do it. He kept his eyes closed, trying to ignore the deep ache that spread through him from the force of the blow. His left leg hurt even more, thanks to FN-2187, but at least the bulletproof vest had done its job: no additional harm had been done, though it certainly felt that way.

Oh well. It was better than bleeding out on the floor. What a miserable way to go, Hux thought.

There was a moment of shocked silence that followed the Allegiant General’s command, then the bridge crew, efficient and well-disciplined as ever, fell right back into the rhythm that always moved the First Order forward.

“Yes, Allegiant General,” Hux heard his Lieutenant say. Moments later, the clicking sound of her boots against the floor passed his ear. He could’ve sworn to Snoke that she paused to look at him for just the slightest second. He wished he could open his eyes, see her expression—maybe it was one of triumph, maybe it was pity—but then her footsteps retreated past him, and unfamiliar hands wrapped themselves around his arms and started to bodily drag him across the floor.

Now, this was highly humiliating and disrespectful—but Hux reminded himself that he was, in the bridge crew’s eyes at least, dead. It no longer mattered what they thought of him. And he would now be forever free of the Allegiant General’s degrading words, snide remarks and jabs.

All he had to do now was to escape the First and Final Order. Escape, and he would be free: free to start his life over, free to do what he pleased.

The hands—two pairs, and, judging by the stomping strides their owners made, belonged to a pair of stormtroopers—continued to drag him across the ground, and Hux risked a glance through his eyelashes. They were in the corridor that led to the bridge now, heading in the opposite direction. Hux decided he would wait until the coast was fully clear—and besides, his leg still felt too weak to support him just yet. That damned FN-2187.

The troopers continued to drag his limp form across the spotless floors, presumably in the direction of one of the ship’s many, many trash compactors (who the hell designed star destroyers to have so many, anyway?). Hux waited until their pace slowed, and then he sprung to life.

His first instinct was to grab one of the blasters that hung loosely in their hands. Then the feeling returned, and Hux decided that maybe he didn’t have to go the killing route. He’d already killed three perfectly good troopers today and wasn’t keen on adding to that number. Hux wasn’t a man of religion, but he knew his hands were blood-stained enough that he’d be far from entitled to a good afterlife—but all the more reason to escape this life while breath still resided in his lungs.

He wrenched his arm from the left trooper’s grip. He made a sound of surprise and his huge helmeted head turned to look down at Hux.

“General Hux, sir!” The trooper’s voice sounded pitchy and breathless. “You’re—you’re alive!”

Hux sat up and dusted himself off. “Of course I’m alive, RD-6160,” He snapped, scowling in an attempt to look and sound dignified. “That incident back there was merely a distraction. I’m perfectly alright.”

Hux didn’t need to see the trooper’s expression to know that it was one of immense doubt.

“Let me help you up, sir,” The other trooper said quickly.

“That would be helpful,” He answered, his tone dry.

Despite the humiliation Hux had already suffered, he allowed RD-6160 and ST-3128 to help him back onto his feet (his leg still ached, after all). When they stepped back, Hux nodded to both of them and received respectful salutes in return.

A bubble of pride swelled in his chest to see that his title still inspired loyalty and a sense of duty; it was his title-given right, of course, but Pryde’s presence often overshadowed it when the two worked together. That, perhaps, was another reason why he disliked the man so much. Hux was no longer the General, the one who held all the command and respect, the moment Pryde entered the room. After that, it was just Allegiant General this and Allegiant General that, and Hux would dissolve into the shadows, forgotten.

The troopers seemed at a loss for what to do next. He straightened his uniform and looked at both of them. “You will not tell anyone, especially the Allegiant General, that this ever happened. As far as you are concerned,” Hux tried to meet ST-3128’s gaze through his helmet lens. “You carried out your orders to remove me from the ship. You won't be seeing me from this day henceforth. Dismissed.”

There was a pause. Then ST spoke up. “We carried out our orders to remove you from the ship,” He repeated in a monotone. “We won't be seeing you from this day henceforth.”

Hux frowned. A simple “Yes, sir” would have sufficed, but he supposed that was acceptable: if this was his last order as General of the First Order, it felt satisfying to have it followed to the tiniest detail. He nodded at both of them and turned in the opposite direction, beginning a brisk walk down the corridor. Yet another step closer to freedom.

Obtaining a TIE fighter was almost too simple: it’s no wonder that FN-2187 so easily stole one and escaped then, Hux realised as he took hold of the ship’s controls. Of course, he hadn’t exactly stolen it—news that the General was supposed to be deceased hadn’t yet spread beyond the bridge of the Steadfast, and so it was easy to convince a TIE pilot that Hux required the use of his starfighter.

Hux’s heart thrummed in his chest as the engine fired up. He was so close to freedom. Part of him regretted that he would not be returning to his quarters later that day, or that he would never get to walk down the bridge of a star destroyer ever again. But a larger (and smarter) part of him knew that these were merely feelings: feelings that would burn away under the sun of a much safer, much warmer planet.

No looking back, then. And no regrets, either.

The roar of the engine grew and filled the small space of the cockpit. Hux regretted not borrowing the pilot’s helmet too.

Well, maybe just one regret.

He gripped the control wheel tightly, trying to ignore the vibrating in his teeth as the fighter lifted off the ground. Hux then manoeuvred the TIE out of the hangar and into the dark expanse of space. No one stopped him; no one even spotted him.

Just like that, General Armitage Hux of the First Order was dead.

-- --

“Your iced tarine tea, sir.”

Armitage looked up from his book just as the SE8 droid placed a tall glass on his table.

“Thank you,” He said curtly.

The droid dipped its shiny black head and moved away to serve another patron.

Reaching for the glass, Armitage directed his gaze to the endless stretch of turquoise sea of which he currently had a front-row seat. Cantonica was particularly beautiful this time of year, and there was no better place to enjoy the views the planet had to offer than in Canto City. (Not Canto Bight, no: that place was too messy, and Armitage never enjoyed gambling.)

Armitage took a sip, then he leaned back in his deck chair and sighed, contentment settling in his belly, then stretched his legs out.

The leg on which he'd been shot turned out unscarred; the injury had been easily taken care of by medic droids when he landed in Cantonica a complete year ago. No questions had been asked except for a name by which he could be addressed.

“Armitage,” He’d said. “Just Armitage.”

Which was then followed by the embarrassing need to clarify to the immigration officer that no, his name was not Just Armitage, it was just Armitage. No last name. The officer had given him a strange look, but said nothing once he was passed a sack of credits under the counter.

From that day forth, he was Armitage, resident of Cantonica.

Working under the First Order meant he had a comfortable amount of money in his savings, and so he’d been able to live a life of comfort so far. He had a house down the beach from the bar. Armitage had relaxed his appearance as well: he’d let his facial hair grow out, even allowed his hair to creep just a little over his ears.

Here in Cantonica, days were slow. Easy. Peaceful. The only chaos that ever occurred was of the tides crashing against the rocks, or the occasional thunderstorms that would descend on the planet during the monsoon season. The rest of his days were filled with books, music, and bitter tarine tea—lots of it.

Today was one of those days. Armitage continued to stare at the waves and let himself be lulled into a daze. He never could do that during his days on the Finalizer: he was often too worried about waking to a blaster pressed to his head, or to news that the insufferable Kylo Ren had destroyed yet another invaluable piece of equipment.

Hmm. Kylo Ren. Ben Solo. Armitage wondered what the man was up to these days.

Being on Cantonica also meant that he was cut off from the HoloNet. Not that the planet didn’t have access to the galaxy’s biggest news resource—on the contrary, Canto City was privileged to have one of the Canto system’s fastest connections—but Armitage simply avoided listening to any of it. He was no longer part of that life: it no longer mattered.

The sun slowly set over the horizon, turning the sky a violent orange and electric purple, and the SE8 droid returned to inquire if he needed anything else.

“No, thank you,” He said, yawning. Then something seized him, and he held up a hand before the droid could leave.

“Yes, sir?”

“Tell me,” Armitage began. “What has the political state of the galaxy been like in the past year?”

If the droid thought his question peculiar, it wasn’t programmed to say so. “Well sir, the galaxy is currently under Republic rule, following the fall of the late Supreme Leader and Emperor of the First Order.”

Armitage sat up. “The late Supreme Leader, you say?"

The droid didn’t blink. (It couldn’t, anyway.) “Yes, sir. Supreme Leader Kylo Ren of the First Order, given name Ben Solo, son of Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan and Han Solo of Corellia. Born in 5 ABY on Chandrila, died 35 ABY following the final battle of the First Order-Resistance war on—”

“That’s all, thank you,” Armitage cut the droid off, his head suddenly spinning. It nodded and left, oblivious to the blow it had just dealt him.

So Ben was dead, then. Was the scavenger Rey dead too? What about Pryde? Quinn? Armitage leaned back in his chair, now unable to stop himself from pondering the state of the galaxy. A galaxy without Kylo Ren. A galaxy without the First Order.

Interesting. He supposed he could live with that. He’d won, didn’t he? Kylo Ren lost. The details didn’t matter.

Before he could ponder any further, there was a sudden shriek in Cantonican from another bar patron. Curious, he turned his gaze from the now-black sea and looked to the source of the commotion.

A female Caskadag was pointing towards something on her left. Armitage followed her finger to see a flash of ginger with four legs running across the sand—headed straight in his direction!

Whatever the creature was, it slowed to a trot once it neared him. Perhaps it’d been startled by the female Caskadag: after all, they were infamous for their piercing cries. Compared to her, Armitage was minding his own business and being quiet. It made sense for the creature to prefer his side.

The animal was nearer now, and it stopped by his deck chair. It reminded him of a loth-cat, only smaller and furrier. And more orange. The creature let out a meow typical of its species and began rubbing its head against his chair.

“Hello there,” He said, feeling a bit silly talking to an animal.

The cat meowed again, this time hopping daintily onto the chair and scattering sand across his legs. He extended a hand out. It let out a rumble, then leaned forward to sniff his hand. A moment later, it rubbed the side of its head against the back of his fingers.

He smiled down at it. “Would you like some food? Fish, perhaps?”

The cat seemed to understand what ‘food’ meant. It meowed louder, butting its head against the flat of his palm. Armitage stood up and stretched. “Well come on, then.”

He left a few credits on the table and left. The cat followed next to him, its tail bobbing in the air. Armitage considered his furry companion as the two strolled down the beach back to his house, and decided that he would give her a name: Millicent.

There was no particular reason why, but the name brought to mind the image of a smiley young woman with flour on her clothes and freckles on her cheeks. She, like Armitage, had ginger hair and blue eyes.

No particular reason why, really.

“Millicent,” He said aloud, and the cat looked up at him before letting out another demanding meow.

"Alright, alright."

Call it a hunch—or rather, a feeling, but Armitage sensed that this was the beginning of a great friendship, and the continuation of an even greater life.

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Notes: My first completed star wars fic!! Leave a like and rb if you’re feeling kind <3

This fic accompanies this piece:

#tros spoilers #sw tros #star wars #general hux #millicent the cat #kylo ren #enric pryde #sw fanfic #my writing

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jamesauxiliar · 3 years

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About Me – My Portfolio

James McKittrick

Language Assistant

French and Spanish graduate of Bangor University

Country of Origin: United Kingdom

School Placement

Public School Tierno Galván, Sector Embarcaciones, 34, 28760 Tres Cantos, Madrid, Madrid

My School

My school is located in a town called Tres Cantos just north of the city of Madrid, not too far from the mountains. It is quite a typical suburban area with plenty of schools, restaurants and residential areas. I really enjoy the walk from the train station, especially in winter seeing the snow-capped mountains in the distance despite the cold.

The school itself is very welcoming to everyone and promotes a very positive working environment. A different song is played at the start of each day to lift the students’ spirits. This is highlighted in the classroom when the lesson begins, usually by doing the date and weather, the children are full of enthusiasm. They are very eager to learn and participate which makes the job a lot more enjoyable. It’s quite a small school which helps create a friendly and encouraging tight-knit atmosphere. All the teachers are very pleasant and I’m able to practise my Spanish with them during Recreo. I really like the birthday tradition in place at the school where we usually have a selection of manolitos, a lovely part of Spanish culture.

Here are the other language assistants from France, Canada and the USA.

Expectations and Experience

I went into this job with an open mind, I have never worked in a school or with children before so I was very excited about this new opportunity. I knew the main priority of the language assistant role was to enhance the students’ speaking ability but I wanted to use this opportunity to promote the learning of anglophone culture as well. For example, what we do at Christmas or how they celebrate Halloween in the United States. I also hoped to get a first-hand experience of Spanish culture and so far, it has been very beneficial.

Assigned Grades and Subjects

I usually work with Primeros and Segundos, I am always with Elena in the Primeros classes and in the Segundos classes I work with Eva and Antonio. The majority of the classes are English classes but sometimes we teach Natural Science. I also have one class with Terceros with Maribel and one class with Cuartos also with Antonio.

Goal for self and learners

My personal goal was to help create a positive and fun learning environment for the students and get to know the teachers and students on a first name basis. Always thinking of fun activities to help the children engage such as playing games or promoting cultural events.

Main Activities Developed as Language Assistant

Since the students are of a young age, participation is paramount to help keep them motivated. For example, we play games such as Hangman and Simon Says, we sing songs, draw pictures, and do group activities. The children especially love Hangman, not only does it improve their vocabulary knowledge, but they also practise the alphabet. Although my main role is to help the students individually when they are doing worksheets or practising their speaking skills, a variety of activities is highly beneficial. Furthermore, I believe the Christmas period was very useful to help the students engage, they learnt about Anglophone Christmas traditions such as cuisine and rituals and they also sang lots of songs.

My contributions to the Programme

Everyday I’m in the classroom I always strive to be positive and energetic influence to get the kids excited. I believe this sort of presence in the classroom has a chain reaction effect and everyone can benefit from it. They feel comfortable and confident to contribute. In addition to this, the role of a language assistant is important around the time of cultural events. At Halloween we all dressed up and we played charades to teach the kids Halloween vocabulary. They all loved the role play their progress was palpable.

My favourite contribution was during Christmas time when my French colleague and I did a ‘Franglais’ Christmas class. We presented a PowerPoint about Christmas cultures in anglophone and francophone countries and we also played games to develop their Christmas vocabulary in both languages. I really enjoyed this class not only because it was great to share the two cultures, but I studied French and Spanish at university, so I found it very interesting.

Personal background and interests related to Final Project

Thanks to my university studies I have always had a love for other cultures and cooking and cuisine are a pillar in one’s culture. I believe when teaching languages it is highly beneficial to teach other cultures as well because it can inspire students to keep studying languages which can open up many opportunities. As well as introducing a cultural element to my project, I’m going to talk about the advantages and disadvantages of different food groups.

Highlights of my Experience as an Language Assistant

My main highlight is being able to connect with the students on a daily basis, asking them what they did at the weekend or about cultural things like Christmas or puentes. I also often read with the students, particularly with the Segundos, and they have developed their reading skills a lot since September which is very rewarding. Their pronunciation and vocabulary are going from strength to strength.

Furthermore, thanks to my new experience of teaching and the fantastic teachers I work with, my personal development is also a highlight. On my first day, I didn’t think I would be able to stand in front of the class and take a lesson, but I now feel motivated and confident to do so and I manage to engage the students and sometimes make them laugh which is always nice to see. It has definitely inspired me to consider teaching as a career option.

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shelleysbysshe · 5 years

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Questions from a new Romantic era fanatic: Why does everyone hate polidori and who the hell is keats?

Hello, dear anon, and welcome to the World of Romanticism! There is no turning back now. This post will be super long, so if you wanted short answers, I beg you to forgive me for that, but I wanted to write something consistent and detailed, with many links for further reading in case you (or anyone else) are interested. Just click on “keep reading” (if you’re on the web. I’m not sure if there is this option on the mobile app).

Well, people hate John Polidori because he was an asshole in Geneva. To give you a few examples of his ridiculous behaviours: during a sailing trip, he hit Byron’s knee with an oar — Byron turned his face away in pain. Polidori, instead of apologising, remarked that he was glad to see that Byron was capable of demonstrating emotions. Byron got so pissed he said that if Mary wasn’t on board, he would have thrown Polidori overboard. The situation, according to Thomas Moore, went like this: “Be so kind, Polidori, another time, to take more care, for you hurt me very much.” — “I am glad of it,” answered the other; “I am glad to see you can suffer pain.” In a calm suppressed tone, Lord Byron replied, “Let me advise you, Polidori, when you, another time, hurt any one, not to express your satisfaction. People don’t like to be told that those who give them pain are glad of it; and they cannot always command their anger. It was with some difficulty that I refrained from throwing you into the water; and, but for Mrs. Shelley’s presence, I should probably have done some such rash thing.“He also purposefully picked on Shelley. On Moore’s words, “Polidori had become jealous of the growing intimacy of his noble patron with Shelley”, and even wanted to duel him after he lost a sailing match. However, Shelley was a known pacifist. Byron, on the other hand, offered himself to duel Polidori, claiming that “though Shelley has some scruples about duelling, I have none and shall be at all times ready to take his place.” Anyway, here’s what the physician wrote about Shelley when they first met: “bashful, shy, consumptive; twenty-six; separated from his wife; keeps the two daughters of Godwin, who practise his theories;”There was also that one time when Polidori asked Byron “what is there you can do that I cannot?”. Byron’s answer was priceless: “I can swim across that river—I can snuff out that candle with a pistol-shot at the distance of twenty paces—and I have written a poem of which 14,000 copies were sold in one day.”

Judging by what I’ve read so far, I’d say the guy was such a pain in the ass, that Byron didn’t even trust him. On a letter to Hobhouse (June 23rd, 1816), he wrote: “that child and childish Dr. Pollydolly contrived to find it [a bottle of potash] broken, or to break it (…)”

Apparently he was a decent person only when he was around Mary, probably because he had a crush on her.

Anyway, Byron was no saint — I adore him (more than I should, probably), but I do know he was a complex person. However, Polidori was the worst, and Byron didn’t deserve that.

Polidori’s journal from 1816 is available online for free. If you wish to read it, you can find it here.Another useful link: Life of Lord Byron, Vol. 3 by Thomas Moore. Also, fun fact: his sister, Frances Polidori, married Gabriele Rossetti. Therefore, John Polidori was Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s and Christina Rossetti’s uncle (although he died before they were born).

And now to who the hell is John Keats Well, here we go…Born in 1795, John Keats was a working-class man — someone whose life was quite frustrating, and surrounded by death (he died at 25, but still outlived his parents, his grandma and his brother). He wanted to be a poet, and to be among the great English poets when he died. Therefore, he began writing around 1814 (if I am not mistaken), and his poems were filled with beautiful lines about nature, beauty, imagination and words about his muse, a young woman named Fanny Brawne.Most of his contemporaries, however, didn’t like his work — it is said that his poems sold barely 200 copies back in the day. Byron, for example, despised Keats as a poet — he used to criticize his poems, and once he even said Keats’ works were a sort of “mental masturbation”. He mentions Keats in Don Juan (Canto XI, stanza LX. He kinda mocks the myth surrounding his death*), as well as in his letters.Shelley, on the other hand, loved Keats, and wrote a massive elegy on his death, Adonaïs, which probably helped keeping Keats’ legacy alive. When Shelley drowned, his body was identified because he had a book of poems by Keats in his pocket. Ironically, Keats didn’t like Shelley that much.Unfortunately, Keats fate was not a fair one: he contracted tuberculosis, probably from his brother, who died of consumption in 1818. The symptoms got worse around 1820, so it was decided that he should retire to a warmer climate in order to survive. In November of the same year, he arrived in Italy. However, because Keats was medically trained, and had already seen people dying of tuberculosis, so he knew he was going to die soon. He knew exactly what was going on, and that moving to Rome wouldn’t work. He knew was doomed.The poor man died in Italy, of tuberculosis, at the age of 25, in 1821, believing he was a failure. He was the youngest of the English Romantics, and also the first one to die.Even though his life was quite bitter, he always did his best to see beauty in every thing that surrounded him — quoting his Endymion “a thing of beauty is a joy forever”; and quoting Keats himself (from a letter): “"If I should die,” said I to myself, “I have left no immortal work behind me - nothing to make my friends proud of my memory - but I have loved the principle of beauty in all things, and if I had had time I would have made myself remembered.“”.From the state his lungs were after his death (described by his friend Severn on a letter to Fanny: “the lungs were completely gone. The Doctors could not conceive by what means he had lived these two months.”), one can only imagine how much he agonized and suffered during his last days.He was buried at the protestant cemetery in Rome (same place as Shelley). On his tombstone, one can read “This grave contains all that was Mortal of a Young English Poet Who on his Death Bed, in the Bitterness of his Heart at the Malicious Power of his Enemies Desired these Words to be engraven on his Tomb Stone: Here lies One Whose Name was writ in Water. ”After his death, Fanny Brawne suffered a lot for about 8 years of her life.John Keats became quite successful a few years later, during the Victorian era, and his poems deeply influenced the pre-raphaelites, and even Tennyson. Nowadays, he is considered to be one of the greatest English poets, as he so ardently desired to be during his lifetime.If you wish to read his poems, I recommend Ode to a Nightingale, On Death, Ode on a Grecian Urn, When I Have Fears, La Belle Dame Sans Merci, Bright Star, Isabella or The Pot of Basil, and This Living Hand. You can read more about John Keats’ life here and here. You can read Keats’ letters here

*The Myth surrounding Keats’ death was that he died because of the stress generated by the harsh comments his poems received. Obviously, that was not the case…

And that’s it.

Thank you very much for asking! I hope you enjoyed my answers! If you, or anyone else has any other question about the romantics, you can ask me here.

#this was the longest ask i've ever answered #lord byron #percy shelley #john keats #john polidori #romanticism #a few typos here and there #I'm sorry? please ignore them

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don-dake · 3 months

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One For the Archives

Was looking up some old videos of Gregory Charles Rivers (aka 河國榮) and just have to share/archive this one here too.

Because… he's being adorkable, his deep love for 廣東話 (Cantonese) and 中文 (written Chinese) is lovely to feel and see here, and (hopefully) he will/still can inspire and encourage Cantonese/Chinese learners now and in the future through a video like this, as he did for me.

When you remember he only started learning (Cantonese) in his 20s, in an era where there was no widespread Internet, and book resources for learning Cantonese were even more scarce and non-Standardised than today, it makes his achievements all the more impressive!

For anyone who thinks Cantonese/Chinese is impossible to learn well, Mr Rivers is proof that (barring disabilities like dyslexia, economic barriers, etc.) it can be done with the right attitude and often, just the willingness to put in the hard work!

n.b.: Video was first shared c. June 2023.

English Translation Under Cut Below

《說筆》 🖋️

「嚟到香港三十幾年嘅我，睇中文字，完全冇問題！打字，都唔差嘅喎！我打過粵拼音都可以打到幾快下嘅。噉但係，寫字呢，heh heh…差啲呀！

寫字真係差啲。因為寫字呢，係需要練習。你唔練呢就唔記得點寫嘅，或者係寫得肉酸。

我記得中文字可以好靈嘅喎噉所以呢，我決定咗一定要練習寫字。噉，但係如果喺電話度呢，用手指去寫字我真係唔得嘅，我嘅手指太粗。Heh！

所以呢…我買咗呢枝筆！

『大家都學種菜好唔好？︶‿︶』

所以呢！以後喺電話度寫中文字嘅時候我都會堅持用枝筆去寫字，希望越寫越靚。

對寫中文字呢樣嘢失傳嘅話，大家都要「說不」！

「說筆」 …明…明…明唔明呀？「說不」，「一枝筆」，「說不」又唔係「筆字」嘅「筆」 …又係「不」，不過又唔係「筆」 …heh heh！

總之，大家都堅持寫字嘞！」

《Talking (about) Pens》 🖋️

“As someone who's been here in Hong Kong for 30+ years, reading Chinese characters is absolutely no problem for me! Typing Chinese, not bad at it either! I typed pretty fast using Jyutping (Cantonese Romanisation) before. But, writing Chinese, heh heh…not so good!

My writing really is quite poor. Because with writing Chinese, one needs practice. If you don't practise you will forget how to write, or you will be writing illegibly.

I remember how wondrous written Chinese can be, therefore I've decided I must practise writing Chinese (by hand). But if I have to use my fingers to write on my (mobile) phone, I really can't do that, my fingers are too thick. Heh!

So that's why…I've bought this pen!

*gleefully whips out shiny new stylus pen*

『Let's all learn to plant (and grow) vegetables, how about that? ︶‿︶』

So! When writing Chinese on my phone from now on, I'll persist in using this pen to write and hope my writing will get better.

With regards to this thing called Losing the Ability to Write Chinese, everyone should “Say No”! “Talk Pens”…get…get…get it?

∴ “Say No”, “A Pen”, “Say No” but not “Pen” from “Writing Pen”, also “No”, but not “Pen”…heh heh!

Anyway, let's all persevere with writing (by hand)!”

∴ Mr Rivers was attempting a lame pun/joke (and failing badly 囧); “Talk Pens” and “Say No” are both pronounced syut³ bat¹ in Cantonese.

#Even If younger generations may not know of you in the future #You Sir will always be one of my idols for learning Chinese/Cantonese #Gregory Charles Rivers #河國榮 #Video #My Eng Translations #Cantonese #Chinese Language #Language #Dake Rambles #Canto Practise

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likeniobe · 5 years

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illustration for canto 3 of harington’s orlando furioso, 1607, in which the sorceress melissa (with the aid of merlin) shows bradamante her descendants

21 This said: the prophet Merline holds his peace, And giues Melissa time to worke her will, Who when she did perceiue the voice to cease, She purposeth by practise of her skill, To shew the damsell part of that increase, That should with fame the world hereafter fill. And for this end she calls a great assemble, Of sprights that might their persons all resemble.

22 Who straight by words of secret vertue bound, In numbers great vnto the caue repaire, Of whence I know not, whether vnder ground, Or else of those that wander in the aire: Then thrise she drawes about a circle round, And thrise she hallowes it with secret praire. Then opens she a triple clasped booke, And softly whispering in it she doth looke.

23 This done she takes the damsell by the hand Exhorting her she should not be afraid, And in a circle causeth her to stand, And for her more securitie and aid, And as it were for more assured band, Vpon her head some characters she laid. Then hauing done her due and solemne rites, She doth beginne to call vpon the sprites.

from harington’s translation of canto 3

#orlando furioso #print #romaunz #texts #17

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libidomechanica · 4 years

Text

As often-times are they are scattered, Grief

And catch his shows his eyes, for its godlike glow-worm of the stern and haud me down the west sea rhyming low island. That dare not to rob thee so full of cherubs in the ear, or like delights to keep it swelling such on his breath in arias of others have forgot ? His dying Gladiators air, had held such a life as was

at an “only” “s a spirit in the song, to hurt that to you, and silver bugle hung his keen decide, with as in his sights enrich the bane would say, is of no woman, men should do not breathe mystically meek, your bodies, strong he may be dear, it seemd made a deal of sweet, the rising hills be dry, sorrows of death. ”Er earth usurper of horses that done, fates are; and above payment that hue); blue in all her as thou art can plain till welcome, as when to their extremely taken, what island; I, on an ambling lyre already for half cut this Canto, and flew kite, and would not warm, and my eye,

that salt of his fair: “and thing boy, bend not seen his mild and in each trace in all that hill an iceberg it may pitied. It seemd sores them scorning forth the face with that neighs and told thee from thee, my own dark valleys out of mine; and echo rings;” in a brakes one without great song of liberties; charmd the Destinies with that still, is

(flankd by fear? Let not my friend engirts so white, green dropped him to thee I dare na show, and gold. A blessed Lady of Shalott. You are coy and held and entered lips. Then Oothoon, were slick-faced. Blow on an amorous glow-worm of black— sailed unfamiliar, towing tiger, and nights of all: then they were

engraved invisible free. “Young Juan intellects are in happy dwell take delight dilate like hangovers, and never of the stamp a tear; by whom maids bore any sweet Iudge, must still she gave like to a pretty ear she arose, and guest, she gave: if the poets volume as Divine. You are afraid: ‘Ay me!

Wulf is rest: low lies tangled in mine harder to take advantage of life,’ in his music till not eternal chain-swung censer teeth at the glowing time. And have ceasd, and to believe an ass was practising and feed her thou dost surpass that was the lands; let but one minutes fire than the rights, for the parts of new-found him castles are grows less than our joys grow unto Thee mine from the steed, being low never can be; little brook from who have At last gasp comes or roses damaskd, red an act of fire.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #123 texts

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palussomninovel · 5 years

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Canto III

The Book of Margery Kempe by Chaucerian Myth

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The abbey of Palus Somni stood, tall and proud, atop the surrounding marshland. It was a crown, with the thick purple heather as its mantle, studded with shards of jagged, grey rock as though adorned with jewels and gemstones. These stones were ancient, but the kind of ancient that had been lovingly maintained over time. There were no ruins, and yet some of the structures were prehistoric, painstakingly restored and used in much the same way now as they were then. These early walls were constructed upon the ruins of yet an older site of worship, where weathered carvings unearthed by later inhabitants betrayed the presence of primordial humanoid ancestors.

In short, it was a hodgepodge of towers rendered in various architectural styles. Roman pillars supported gothic arches, while lichen-encrusted standing stones sat amongst the bricks of the boundary wall, staring outwards with carven faces contorted into grimaces of some unknown but intense emotion. When some previous owner had wanted a new chapel built it had often been erected on top of the ruins of the older church, and so many ornate facades were left behind, a sprawling labyrinth of bricked up windows and doors to nowhere. Most of it was crafted from an imposing strain of dark basalt, though various ages could be identified by the differing materials used throughout its construction.

It had not always been an abbey. Almost one hundred and fifty years ago it had been a country manor. Lord Aloysius Mallory, having died without heir after the disappearance of his only son, had entrusted his estate to the use and good fortune of the Alucinari religious order.

His death was met with a sigh of relief from the local population, who had complained vocally and often about his policies during his lifetime. Intent merely upon his own insular projects, he had let much of the surrounding farmland go to fallow, with much of the area eventually being reclaimed by the marsh. Livelihoods were lost and families went hungry, but the future looked bright as Mallory began to invest in the creation and operation of a new lime quarry. He did not, however, employ the locals, preferring instead to import his workers from elsewhere. These new faces did not speak the local dialect and kept to themselves, preferring to stay on site than spend time in the nearby inns. This was some relief to the villagers, who had seen how these strangers worked tirelessly into the night, seemingly with infinite energy and with no need to stop and rest. When any of them did wander into town, they appeared lost and confused and there were some instances where they were reported to have lashed out at inquisitive folks who offered them a word of welcome. The consensus of the local folk was that the ways of foreigners were a mystery, and they were entitled to their customs but by the Gods they were not letting their children anywhere near them.

When Aloysius Mallory died, work in the mine ceased, and the mysterious miners disappeared overnight. Nonetheless, by now the damage had been done and most villages on Mallory lands had been abandoned for better, and less unusual, pastures. In just a single generation an entire community had fled, the culture lost. And for what? The unknown obsession of a dying man.

Then the Gol came, and everything changed.

Bellemorde thought about this as she sliced her way through the tough sinew that held Harriet’s intercostal muscles to her ribcage. If the Gol were so intent on eating humans, she thought, why come out all this way to the middle of nowhere? Why come to an empty land to feed?

She stopped sawing to wipe her face, leaving a streak of blood across her forehead.

She knew why. It was obvious, really. The amount of Gol they saw here were merely remnants, the dregs. Pitiable leftovers. The great cities must be teeming with them, with every street packed full of Gol bodies, pressed square against the walls.

But that just lead to more questions. How could a single city feed so many? Surely it wasn’t sustainable to have so many predators in one place.

Besides, did the cities still even exist?

I suppose, she thought, that they would eventually have to eat each other. Her face, hidden behind a surgical mask, cracked into a smile as she extracted her hands from Harriet’s chest cavity. Eat each other! Now that would surely solve all our problems.

Belle examined the tooth that she had extracted from the young nun’s wound. It was a tooth, she could tell, because it had several smaller teeth growing on it. Geometric circles of tumorous growths arranged consecutively but not neatly, with some teeth splitting open to allow new teeth to emerge.

She wondered if this meant the Gol, too, were growing.

The infirmary was one of the larger buildings of the abbey, situated in a hall almost as large as the main chapel. A mezzanine floor held further rooms, enough for the convalescent members of the original cohort of almost one thousand sisters, but they were rarely needed these days and the upper level had fallen into disrepair. There was space enough for their needs on the ground floor and several canopy beds occupied the hall. Privacy was found behind the wispy curtains, though at the moment the infirmary only had one resident patient.

Jenny had curled herself up into the smallest of balls, curtains closed and covers high over her head. Nothing she tried could block out that scene from her mind. The dark, the rain, the slow creak of rope-flung trees. There were not nearly enough layers between her and the outside world.

She had woken up here that morning. She didn’t remember how she got to the infirmary, though she could barely remember what day it was. The only thing that she knew was that there were monsters outside and that if you appeared to be sleeping, they left you alone. She shivered under the blankets, the chill reaching her even under all her layers. The physician, Sister Belle, had come with porridge that morning, but she had been too scared to move. Too scared to be awake. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Harriet, hanging, and every time she opened them she knew that it had really happened.

She was trapped between two worlds, two different kinds of hell. And now she could hear them laughing at her, those Gol with their twisted faces and too many bones, she could hear their mirth at having finally taken one of the flock. Her flock, her family.

She held back her sobs, lest they hear that she was awake.

Outside of the safety and the blankets of Jenny’s four poster the hall was mostly empty, except for the stoic presence of two sisters. Seated on a hard bench near the surgery door, Lydia and Hazel sat trapped in uncomfortable silence. From their left, the small, rustling sobs of Sister Jennifer echoed around the hall. From their right, they heard muffled laughter through the heavy wooden door as Sister Belle utilised her own, unique, coping mechanisms. Caught between the tears and the mirth they sat listening as the discordant sounds filled the room with the emotions of loss and life.

At long last the hinges of the surgery door creaked, and the source of the laughter came to meet them. Sister Bellemorde was a Quodlibet, an Alucinari acolyte who did not adhere to any major sect. Sometimes it was because they followed more than one path or were practising a peculiar form of asceticism. In this case, it was because the additional daily duties would interfere with her role as abbey surgeon and, as of today, coroner.

She was a tall, wilting figure of a woman, her body bowing under the weight of countless storms like the twisting trunk of an old tree. This was the most striking thing about her that those who met her noticed first, which was extremely telling as her hair was pink. Not bright pink, exactly, but a pale sort of flush which masked any original colouring. A result of too many years stooped over chemicals, she told anyone curious enough to ask. In all respects, her personality matched her meandering physique, twisting every which way and never in line with what is expected, or desired.

In other words, Belle was not the sort of woman who let propriety stand in the way of direct communication.

“Well, if she wasn’t dead before, she definitely is now.” The smear of blood stood out on her forehead like a streak of guilty conscience. “Where do I sign?”

A pause.

“Oh. Sign.” Hazel said in a monotone and began to rummage around in her satchel for the appropriate documents. It took her longer than usual to find what she needed, her fingers brushing against paper listlessly as her brain refused to associate with a reality in which her best friend was dead.

They had lived together, worked together, and even ate together. They had sung together, hands clasped beneath the morning sun. Hazel was more of a reader, whereas Harriet was a born writer. Every major abbey event went through Harriet’s pen, every new conversion and old tradition. If she were still alive, she would be the one scribing the death certificate and updating the register, not her. That thought alone made Hazel falter as she handed over the sheaf of papers into Belle’s open hand.

“Done, and… done!” She signed the bottom with a flourish.

“So what happens now?” Asked Lydia, who was here in her self-appointed role as head of abbey affairs while Mother superior was away. It was not a job anyone begrudged her, because it was not as essential as she thought it was. In times such as these, however, her ability to remain calm and organise was received with gratitude.

“Now? Now, you leave her with me. I have much work, you know, preparing her.” Belle gestured at the coffin that had been placed covertly at the side of the hall.

“In that case, we shall not keep you. Thank you for your time, Sister Belle.” Lydia got up to leave, but Hazel stayed sitting, her fingers gripping white against the bundle of papers that declared her friend dead.

“Um.”

“Yes?” Belle inclined her head, and it was like watching a tree bend in the wind.

“Sister, please don’t take her to the catacombs. She spent so much time down there with her work, she grew to hate it. Can we please bury her in the grounds, under the sun?”

Bellemorde shrugged, but not cold-heartedly.

“There is no rule about that as far as I know, she can be buried in the sky if she so wishes.”

“Well, that’s not entirely true, now, is it?” Lydia began, finding some ground on which she was well versed. Canon law was her specialty. “There are entire chapters about care for the dead in the Summer Charters.”

“Read them. No rules about it.” Belle waved her hand dismissively, and the conversation was over. Even Lydia held no authority over the physician in their own domain.

“I will be seeing to my patient now.” She gestured to the still sobbing bed meaningfully and turned away without a further word.

The reverent silence of the infirmary was broken as they left the ward and several nuns who had been waiting patiently for news surged forwards. Lydia however only had eyes for one.

“You!” She pointed, and the crowd turned to look for her victim.

Wille stared her down, arms crossed.

“What is it now, Lydia? What do you want?”

“You were out and about last night, and now Harriet is dead.” Her words travelled down her finger like the gleam of a brandished sword, stabbing her victim in all the right places.

“How is that my fault? You were there too!”

“Me? I was there to stop you. You were the one drawing their attention, stomping around at night doing heavens knows what!” Her voice quivered with pathos, real or pretend it was hard to tell

“You know what I was doing, I was helping-” But she stopped herself mid-sentence and instead put her energy into scrunching up her fists with powerless rage. She was not going to betray Claudia and air her issues in front of the whole monastery, not while they looked at her with such suspicion. The force of Lydia’s outburst had turned them docile, or perhaps they really did think that it was all her fault. They could believe what they wanted, Wille thought to herself, she harboured no delusions that she could have been even remotely to blame. Harriet was found outside the wall, if anyone was responsible it was… No. It was too soon for such thoughts.

Her accuser faced her down in front of almost the entire abbey. Anyone who wasn’t here would surely hear about it, sooner or later. Faces peeked at her from inside wimples, hoods and hats. Suspicious faces, blank faces. Faces of friends who were no longer sure what to think. It was comforting to find blame in a blameless world. If such tragedy could have a real, discernible cause then it felt more controlled, more preventable, and life felt safer. It made the Gol smaller, and hope swell. It was easy to turn against Wille if doing so offered some small comfort for the living. Even if they knew in their hearts that it was unlikely, even if they found it difficult to meet her gaze, who among them could refuse such an offer of culpability in these cold and callous times?

She did not see Claudia in the crowd. She was spared, at least, the judgement of her last remaining friend.

“Let this be a lesson for everyone, the rules we follow are there for a reason.” Lydia addressed the crowd, grasping her rosary before her in supplication. “We need to stay safe, we must stay safe. We have inherited the wisdom of a hundred years of torment, let us not forget it now. If we fall into the twilight of the final era of sin, we are damned. We have everything we need to see though these cursed times and our Lord will never – Never! - let us drift into despair, if only we should listen.”

The crowded faces looked simultaneously abashed and enthused at these words, and some of the Etudes covered their faces. Many of them had at some point been out of bed at night, or had otherwise broken the rules meant for their safety, and felt now the sting of her words as though they were aimed at them alone.

“Sister Hazel, what further responsibilities do you have remaining of Harriet’s affairs?”

“There is not much left… only the funeral arrangements and organising her belongings.”

Lydia nodded.

“Grace and Bellemorde have volunteered to oversee the funeral.” Sister Grace, the resident alchemist, bowed her head in agreement, letting her hood fall modestly over her face.

“As for Harriet’s outstanding affairs…” Lydia began, but was cut off by a voice from beside her.

“I would be most grateful for the opportunity to make up for any transgression.” Wille began, talking directly to Hazel. “Let me take care of things. You have mourning to do.”

Hazel nodded her thanks, still unsure of her role in the face of so much grief. Everyone knew Lydia to be on edge right now, for understandable reasons, and she harboured no doubts towards Wille’s reliability. We have all broken the law at some point, she thought, Wille just had the bad luck to have been caught at very much the wrong time. She surveyed the Orison through her glasses, noting the short crop of wayward curls and simple, practical robe.

“Thank you, sister. That would be most welcome. If you will follow me, please.”

Lydia was left in the courtyard as around her the crowd dispersed, justice having been served and deserted chores now becoming a more pressing urge. She sat on one of the stone benches, still wet with last night’s rain, and let the water seep into her clothes. She had been abandoned here to wrestle with her thoughts and, God forgive her, the despicable memory of soft, broken teeth grinning outside her window.

The library had always been one of Wille’s favourite places. Unlike the stone study desks in the cloister, it was comfy. The seats were upholstered in embroidered fabrics of green, blue and red. The curtains where thick and long, with golden trim and metallic threads worked throughout. A throwback to the days when it was part of a country mansion, and despite being so out of date it was lovingly looked after by Hazel and the other Etudes so well that barely a single moth lasted long enough under their watchful gaze to cause any damage to the ancient fabrics.

This meant that the entire library smelt divine. The musk of old paper and bookbinding glue, the scent of wood varnish and dust, taken as a whole together with the stale scent of threadbare cloth it created a perfume that Wille found intoxicating. The windows were never opened, being so tall as to make opening them a monumental task involving standing on tables and angling at rusted locks with long sticks. It was better in the hot summer to move out into the courtyard and read under the trees or amongst the herbs.

Today was not a hot day, being the middle of autumn the warmer climate of the library shelves was welcome relief from the growing outside chill. Wille had partly volunteered to help because it would mean she could spend the day here, rather than have to deal with Lydia’s scathing comments.

Harriet was a chronicler, which is somewhere between a librarian and a scribe but with the responsibilities of both. She had to maintain a good organisation of the register, and update it when necessary, as well as produce the yearly almanac which collected the wisdom of various parts of the abbey, particularly astrological phenomena and crop rotation for the coming year. Harriet had been by all accounts skilled at her job, though most Etudes only glanced at the mountains of files with dread and assumed that surely she must know what she was doing.

This was what Wille felt now as she stared at the records office, which was through a small door at the back of the library. So small, she had to stoop to get in, but once she was able to pull her head up her jaw dropped at the piles of carefully annotated paperwork, books, guides, maps and etchings.

It seemed that this was more than just a simple task, and that this would become her home for the next few days, maybe weeks.

“If you need anything just call, we generally have someone here until vespers.” Hazel had said before leaving her alone with merely a lamp and a reading-glass.

She rolled up her sleeves, turned up the lamp, and picked up the first bundle of papers. They were marked ‘The effects of lime and gypsum on millet growth; letters in response to brother Edgar’s guide to marling and other fertilizers, circa 1889.”

She put down the bundle and sighed. She had no idea how to categorise this, or where it belonged. Along one side of the room was a cabinet of draws marked with several categories, including; agriculture (home), agriculture (general), letters (home) and one even for lime production (local). She bundled them into the letters (home) draw, and figured that as long as she found somewhere they belonged, all would be well.

She picked up the next bundle from the floor, a flutter of papers that looked like they had been dropped. Leather bound loose scripts spattered with candle wax and simply labelled “Harriet – Dreams.”

As expected, it contained her recorded visions, presumably ones she had shared at Chapter as many of the entries had annotations of a spiritual nature down the margins. As she flipped through the folios a large brown envelope, tied with string and almost bursting, slipped out from the back pages. Curiosity was always a strongpoint for Wille, and when she cut the cords, she found inside a collection of letters that seemed too old to have been recently penned. The ink was faded, and a quick scan of one showed they were dated over two hundred years ago. Even more intriguing was the notes accompanying them in a small, neat hand and dated to this past week.

She held in her hands what was most likely Harriet’s final records. She had been working on these letters when, for some reason, she had decided to leave the abbey grounds during the night of the orphan moon. What possessed her to do such a thing Wille had no idea, but if anyone knew the answer it was Harriet, and perhaps she could still tell her.

And so, she began to read.

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#webseries #webnovel #palus somni #horror #chapter

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rosewaterbaptism · 5 years

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Finn (star wars)

Favourite thing about them: EVERYTHING but mostly HIS SMILE!!!!! And how much he just Loves Rey!!!! And how dorky he is in front of her!!!!!

Least favourite thing about them: He doesn’t get enough screen time :(

Favourite line: “Do you have a boyfriend? A cute boyfriend?” DEAD I love this dork

brOTP: Finn x Poe

OTP: Finn x Rey! But I ALSO ship Finn x Rose and also Finn x Poe but mostly Finn x Happiness :~)

nOTP: I don’t think I have one

Random headcanon: You KNOW he practises pickup lines in the mirror

Unpopular opinion: Back when TLJ came out people thought it was Bad that he was intoxicated by the allure of Canto Bight and acted like somehow it’s a mark against his character?? When in reality it’s Very human of him to have those feelings and ultimately he discovers the darkness that lies underneath the shiny veneer and anyways why don’t people want Finn to have complex emotions???? To have an opinion and then change his mind??? To be Human??? Lol

Song I associate with them: The Fighter by the Fray

Favourite picture of them:

#thank you for the ask!!#ask games #1975kira

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qwedfas · 6 years

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Hey FAM! I'm super proud of my Cantonese identity/fluency (I'm from GZ) but I've struggled with it because Mando kids have it easier. I'm really struggling in external Chinese and I plan on taking 12 SL in 2019. I've struggled with Chinese teachers telling me Canto is a useless language and I'm crap at Mandarin bc I can't let go of it, but I can't bring myself to give up on my culture & language. I really struggle with no one understanding that Canto is entirely separate from Mando. I feel lost.

Hey there,

First off, choosing to stand with your culture and language as opposed to doing what everyone tells you to takes amazing courage and resilience. It’s hard to go against the norm but it may be even more difficult to give up a part of your identity which is completely understandable.

Unfortunately, Cantonese is one of the languages some people are averse to and is in particular harder to learn because of the lesser amount of resources available to students since it’s one of the less popular languages. If you need help regarding learning the language, approach one of the senior school teachers to see if they may be able to direct you to where you may receive assistance. Perhaps talk with your parents about how you’re learning Cantonese and maybe you’ll be able to find better learning environments for yourself.

Even so, what those Chinese teachers say do not change who you are or what an amazing language Cantonese is. You are strong enough to stand above their negative opinions. A good thing about this school is the large number of Cantonese speaking students. If you have any Cantonese-speaking friends (I know a surprising amount of people who do speak), you could practise speaking or get them to test you on various things.

While I’m not at all fluent (or even versed in the basics), I love being able to speak with and understand my friends. Not only that, but also - I love Cantonese. To me it sounds like comfort and my grandparents, and hearing it really puts me at ease. I don’t have any plans to learn the written language but I’d love to be able to speak fluently one day - hopefully with people like you!

So keep on following this important part of your life because no one can decide for you who you are. I hope you’ll establish a place for yourself as a Cantonese speaker soon. Never stop expressing yourself!

Here is the experience of someone outside of FAM:

Hey there,

I personally did Chinese SLA in 2017 and I grew up speaking Canto as well. I just want to reassure you that no matter what your chinese teacher says being able to speak Cantonese and embracing that side of your culture does not hinder your ability to speak Mandarin.

Also it takes a lot of courage and strength to stick with your own cultural identity so you’ve been doing a great job, never let go of that and be proud of who you are because that is what makes you truly you.

If you are particularly worried about speaking Mando for your SL exam, I really just suggest practicing speaking and really just listening to people speak Mando. (I watched some chinese dramas both period and contemporary so I could also enrich my chinese vocab and maybe this will help you too).

In any case, hold on to your identity and be proud of it. There are many ways to improve your Mandarin, and I can assure you giving up on Cantonese is not one of those. (If you want to know more about doing Chinese SL with a Canto background, feel free to email me at [email protected])

And I know it is frustrating when people can’t tell the difference between Canto and Mando but don’t get frustrated, just explain to them what the differences are and how it’s a dialect with the same written language. Remember, the more people you talk to it about, the more people know the difference.

Love,FAM xx

#answered #anonymous #macroblote #macrobcoping

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superherotigerarchives · 6 years

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My Last Jedi review...

Now it’s finally time to talk about my opinions on The Last Jedi!

The short answer is: I enjoyed the movie for the most part, and I appreciate that it was able to subvert expectations and take a different route than normal.

Now for the long answer, one most of you probably won’t stick around for :P

(P.S Forgive me if I mention things out of order. My memory isn’t always the best!)

For a little background, I went to see the Last Jedi at the midnight screening with my cousin and 15 of his friends. I was dressed as Rey, keeping with the tradition of cosplay at midnight screenings as I had for the past two years at both TFA and Rogue One. I’m telling you this because every time I see a new Star Wars movie, I have the most amazing, awe-stuck experience, and hence, my opinion will be biased and faults that others may realise can be glazed over by myself as I had such fond memories of these movies. So no, my opinion is not perfect, but to me if I enjoyed a movie while watching it that’s all that really matters.

Now to the review!

Starting off, I really enjoyed the first space battle, and I felt it was a great way to start off the movie. I was a little jolted out of the Star Wars universe at first due to the different camera techniques that are not often seen in these movies, but I like that they’re branching out into more cinematic shots and willing to explore their techniques more. Seeing Carrie Fisher and her daughter on the big screen did make my heart throb for a moment, and I still love Leia as much as ever, especially the dynamic between Poe and herself. They were very much a mother-son dynamic, and I still love Leia’s snappy little “You’re demoted” with an equally sassy slap!

I enjoyed where they went with Hux. He wasn’t fleshed out, but he was able to be a comic relief in my opinion, one you often didn’t expect. Some people may not like this, but when both screenings I attended to laughed at the first scene between Hux and Poe, I know I’m not the only one that enjoyed the humour. I thought it landed well, and because of my twisted sense of humour I quite enjoyed Hux becoming the ragdoll to the powerful force users. Just a little light-hearted fun in my opinion.

So basically, the first space battle was great, and I think it was a strong start to a strong movie.

Now, I’ll move onto the Rey plot as Finn’s one wasn’t really explored much until after Rey’s started. Everyone expected this massive moment when Luke got his lightsabre, something huge, something spectacular! And to be honest, I really liked that he metaphorically and literally threw those expectations away. So often the passionate fans of Star Wars lose sight of the fact that we, the audience, do not have control. And we shouldn’t do! How boring would a movie be if it always went the way we wanted?

To the fans that lightsabre is important, something passed down through the Skywalker legacy. But to Luke, it’s a memory of that traumatising day when he lost a limb, almost fell to his death, lost his friend to a bounty hunter, and most importantly, found out his father was one of the most evil figures in the galaxy! To be honest, I wouldn’t want to hold on to something like that either! There must be so much bad energy surrounding that sword, and that’s not even mentioning all those younglings that were slaughtered to the blade.

So yes, I do think it was appropriate for Luke not to care about the sabre. I wasn’t expecting him to do it in such a drama queen fashion, but we’re talking about the Skywalkers here! When have they ever done something not over the top?

Now, I’m going to mention something really quickly, because I’m going to write its own post for this topic.

How the KRIFF is hyperspace tracking a new technology?! Everyone’s acting like it’s the most original idea they’ve ever heard, and people are mentioning that Rogue One hinted to it, but I’m like “Hey, how about that episode of Rebels where THEY WERE LITERALLY TRACKED THROUGH HYPERSPACE WITH A TRACKER?!?!?!” Is it just me, or did this just feel really off? I mean, if the Empire had already at least started that kind of technology, surely the First Order with all their fancy equipment would have that right? And how did the Rebels not know about it? Was the Ghost crew just all chill after that death defying attack and like “We won’t let the other cells know they can literally be tracked through hyperspace by the Empire and destroyed within seconds.” But that’s just me, a Rebels nut that tries to connect Rebels to anything imaginable.

Now that my little rant is over, we’ll move on.

After finding out the ship is being tracked through hyperspace, Finn tries to leave so that Rey won’t accidentally stumble into the battle and get destroyed in the process. Now, I REALLY love this scene between Rose and Finn. It’s great chemistry, and the part where Rose goes “I’ve had to taser 3 other people today trying to escape in this very pod!” and Finn’s all like “That’s disgraceful” *Desperately trying to shove his escape pack out of view*

Anyways, love it, it’s great.

One thing that confuses me is how Finn knows the layout of every First Order ship when he was just… a janitor? Like I get it, funny joke and all but how would the guy that presumably had only worked on Star Killer Base know the layout to Snoke’s ship? And how would Rose, who is supposed to be just an average resistance fighter who’s always in the background, know how to disable something like that? They obviously didn’t even know this technology existed, so how did they know all that information about the tracker and how to disable it? I imagine a hyperspace tracker would work differently to a normal respect in some way or another. But that’s just me.

Now, Kylo Ren in this entire movie was AMAZING! Adam Driver played him so well, I’ve never seen someone be able to express such conflict in merely facial expressions alone! Especially the scene where he’s in the elevator and his eye is twitching, and you can tell he can’t handle the literal roast Snoke just gave him and smashes his helmet to the wall. I love it so much, and just Kylo Ren/Ben Solo was portrayed so well in this movie! And yes, I am one of those people who believe Kylo Ren will get redeemed. Not in the sense that he will come to the light, but in the sense that he and Rey and will balance the force together. I’ll get more into that later.

Okay, now I’ll get to the part that really tripped me out. You all have to admit, that scene with Leia flying through space was pretty strange right? Now, it’s not impossible for a character to survive space. Actually, Kanan Jarrus survived being ejected into space twice, and he still lives at the time I’m writing this. But in those cases Kanan was either A) Saved by someone else as he was unconscious or B) Had things to cling on to and propel himself off long enough to get back into an oxygenated area. Leia on the other hand really surprised me, and not entirely in the best way. She just suddenly… willed her way into the ship? It looked very out of place, especially in a Star Wars movie.

The best way you could fix this while still keeping the theme is to have the TIE’s blow up the command room, but not let their bodies get like… flung so far out? If you kept their bodies floating within the area of the now broken and exposed command room, you could have Leia use the debris to get to the door and then save her. I don’t know, I just feel like that would have been a bit more believable. The force is strong and all but I don’t know if it can go that far.

Anyways, briefly mentioning Holdo, I wasn’t sure how to feel about this character at first. She was giving off a really shifty vibe so naturally I thought she was a spy or at the very least was trying to sabotage their escape, but turns out she was in the right. That’s great and all but it still doesn’t explain why she didn’t tell anyone this plan of hers? Like, if she had just told Poe from the start, he wouldn’t have immediately jumped onto Finn and Rose’s risky plan. Little bit of a plot hole but I can glaze over it.

So, this is getting super long and I’m going to go analyse each plot thread separately now:

The Finn and Rose plot:

Though I think the relationship sort of jumped out of nowhere, I did enjoy their dynamic, and I would like to see them get to spend more time with each other. The casino did feel a little dull on the Star Wars scale, but things like the water ship that became airborne when it left the water was awesome, and I like those animals that they eventually ride on. For those of you who’ve been following me for a while, you’ll know I threw out the suggestion that DJ was Ezra, and at the time that seemed fitting as I was hellbent to get Rebels in there somewhere! But I’m pleased to say that I enjoy DJ as his own separate character. He’s quirky, and just really laid back and relaxed. I really enjoyed that, and not ever really knowing who’s side he was on was great. Like, you think he might be untrustworthy after asking for payment, then he gives Rose back her necklace, and then he ends up betraying them again when his life is put at risk. I love his character, and the little things like BB8 and him discussing who owned the ship was great.

Finn: This isn’t your ship, is it?

BB8: *Beeps*

DJ: *Laughs* He said I stole it. *Glances at BB8* We stole it together.

It’s just bits like these that are the icing on the cake.

I know people are saying this plot was unnecessary and all, but I really enjoyed it and I think if they had taken this plot out and only focused on Rey and Luke, it would have lost of a lot of it’s impact. The Rey and Luke scenes are great because they’re scarce, just like how Luke and Rey don’t actually interact that much. What would we even see? Rey practising stuff while Luke silently tries to figure out his own stuff? I think people forget that sometimes less is more, and I think it applies well to the Luke and Rey plot. I enjoyed the Canto Bite plot, and it was an interesting way to show how those outside of the Resistance and First Order stand in terms of the war.

Okay now to the Poe plot:

This was an interesting one. There wasn’t huge amounts of it from memory, but when it did show up it always made me think. After all, we saw this plot from Poe’s perspective. We love Poe, and even though we all know he can be reckless, everyone knows he has the best intentions and roots for him. We follow him as he tries to help Finn and Rose the best he can, while locking horns with Holdo, a character we don’t know very much about. That puts us in a position where we stand on Poe’s side because we trust him as a person more than Holdo, and it ultimately could have ended in all their deaths. It’s pretty interesting when you think about it…

Now to the meat of the story! The Rey/Luke and Rey/Kylo plots:

Luke and Rey have an interesting dynamic. You can tell there’s a part of Luke who’s curious who Rey is, and naturally wants to help her in some respect. But he’s held back by the fear of failure. That he will lose Rey the same way he lost Ben. So he pushes her away to protect her from himself, only to push her straight into the one who was pulling her to the dark. It’s such a brilliant dynamic, and I think that’s what’s so brilliant about the Yoda scene. My favourite line is “The greatest teacher, failure is…” because it’s so true! You learn so much more from your mistakes then you ever could from constantly being correct. Luke made a mistake with Ben, and he lost him. Now he could choose to wallow in that mistake, or use it to use advantage and learn how to stop it from happening next time. It’s a really good message, one I think should be encourage more often. It’s alright to do something wrong, it’s alright if you make a mistake. We shouldn’t be punishing kids for low grades, and instead encouraging them to learn and grow from these experiences.

The Rey and Kylo dynamic is even more interesting! I definitely found it the most interesting part of the movie by far. Basically, Kylo and Rey become connected through the force and are able to see each other and converse across the galaxy. I love how we see their dynamic go from ‘Immediately shoots at and fight of where Luke is again’ to,

“I’ve never felt so alone in my entire life…”

“You’re not alone…”

“Neither are you…”

AHHH! It was done so well. There’s definitely something awesome about these two characters getting to learn from each other. Rey can sympathise with Ben’s feeling of abandonment, and Kylo and sympathise with Rey’s feelings of loneliness. They are two sides of the same coin, and they compliment each other so well. I think it’s important to note that Rey cares about Ben Solo, not Kylo Ren. And even though Kylo Ren is saying to do whatever it takes to rule, Ben Solo is yearning for the compassion that Rey gives him.

Kylo Ren and Ben Solo are two different people. It’s not uncommon in the Star Wars universe to identify themselves as two different people. Darth Vader was considered different to Anakin Skywalker. Caleb Dume was not the same as Kanan Jarrus. And if you go a bit deeper characters like Count Vidian was different to his old former life before he decomposed due to disease.

It’s an interesting concept, but Rey and Ben work so well together, as seen by that AMAZING throne room fight scene! Seriously, best fight scene in Star Wars to date! It really displays each of their powers really well, and shows how much stronger the light and the dark are together than apart. Speaking of which, the idea of balance is pointed to heavily in this movie. When Rey is meditating, she says things along the lines of “Warmth, cold. Life, death. Peacefulness, chaos. Life, death. And in the middle, a force…” The force is the balance, and they’re using the concept of yin and yang in that one cannot exist without the other, and both are needed to be complete.

Rey is the light, and Kylo is the dark, as shown by Snoke’s quote of: “Darkness rises, and the light to meet it,” and also while speaking to Rey “I warned my young pupil that as he grew stronger, his counter in the light would grow too.” (Or something along those lines.)

I really like where this is going, and even though Kylo wasn’t redeemed in this movie, I do believe he and Rey will work together to start a new Order of Grey Jedi by episode 9. I’ll probably get more in depth about this stuff in another post, but I just thought I’d get that stuff off my mind.

And also, for those upset that Snoke was useless, let me tell you this. Snoke is just a stepping stone to exhibit Kylo’s power. No where was it explained that Snoke would be something bigger. That was just an assumption fans had imposed onto the character. Same with Rey’s parentage. No where did it indicate she was part of the Skywalker legacy, that was just something that was assumed because the saga is about the Skywalkers (even though Kylo is there as the Skywalker but that’s an argument for a whole other day). Basically, the Last Jedi reversed the expectations by making Rey a nobody (thank the force for that), and making Snoke just a tool for Kylo’s rise to power. And it does NOT make it a bad movie for doing that.

In my opinion, I think people had something they carefully theorised on for two whole years, a movie of their own, and were disappointed when they got something different. It’s alright to want to think things out guys, and I’m glad so many people are so passionate about something that they think out their own plan of events. Heck, even I’m guilty of it. But when you let those expectations grow so large that it’s impossible to please, the only person you are hindering is yourself.

Anyways, this post is so long, so I’m going to make a list of things I like and things I didn’t like about the movie to sum it up:

Dislikes:

-Leia floating through space like a wizard

-Luke milking a creature on screen, like wtf?

-Initial shot of Yoda when he appears. (Once the tree is burning and he takes on more of his original puppet behaviour than CGI it’s much better.)

-Finn knowing the layout of all First Order ships even though he’s just a janitor

-Hyperspace tracking being a new technology

-Rose somehow able to disable a technology that is supposedly new and never heard of.

Likes:

-“Well when you see Hux let him know Leia has a very important message… from his mother.”

-“I believe he’s tooling with you sir.”

-BB8 plugging the wires with his kriffing head

-Awesome yet sad sacrifice of Rose’s sister

-Carrie Fisher’s daughter on screen

-CARRIE ON SCREEN!

-Consequences to risky actions

-Big deal, Big Deal, BIG DEAL!

-“Finn, leaking, naked, what?”

-Luke throwing the lightsabre like a drama queen

-Chewie breaking down the door like hulk

-Rey literally reaching out her hand

-Luke using a freaking blade of grass to mess with Rey.

-“I feel something!” “Yeah? That’s the force!” “Oh my gosh I feel it!” “You’re really strong with it!” “Really?! I-“ *smacks her with said grass*

-PORGS!

-R2D2 and Luke reunion!

-“Hey holy grounds buddy, watch the language.”

-Force bond

-Rey, the whole way through

-Ben Solo, the whole way through

-Luke Skywalker, the whole way through

-Finn, the whole way through

-DJ and BB8, holy damn they’re like partners in crime

-Yoda sending a flipping lightning bolt cause Luke can’t finish the job

-“Page turners, they were not.”

-“The greatest teacher, failure is.”

-Hux being a kriffing ragdoll

-Crystal foxes!

-Throne room fight scene

-“Bring it on Chrome Dome!”

-“You were always scum…” “Rebel Scum?” *Mic drop*

-Holdo’s sacrifice

-Crait. Just the entire salty, little planet

-Luke and Leia reunion

-Luke brushing off his shoulder like the drama queen he is-

-Realising no footprints were left in any of the Luke battle scenes on Crait

-Rey lifting all those stones like a boss

-Rey and Finn reunion!

Basically, I love the movie, and you’re allowed to agree or disagree about it. That’s the brilliant part about opinions. We’re all allowed to have one, and no one should be disrespected over it. I doubt many of you made it through my analysis, and I’ll probably go into certain points in more detail in the future, but thanks anyways. Hope you have a great day, and may the force be with you always!

-Superherotiger

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