#and working on projects and theory and application non stop

[savage-rhi]

I've had enough character development for this year. Can we skip to the beach filler episode?

[elizabethemerald]

Fall Anniversary at the Soltryce Academy

Caleb walked into his classroom at the Soltryce Academy with the immediate instinct that something was wrong. He had been teaching Transmutation theory and application in this same class room for the past twenty years, so anything that seemed different set off alarms in his head. 

He mentally checked the wards on the class room and found them intact. There were a few students in their seats, a few more filtering into the lecture hall, by the second. None of them seemed alarmed. Whatever was different today did not appear to be an immediate threat. 

Still just to be safe he subtly cast Detect Magic as he set his bag down and took off his coat. Immediately a few points were highlighted in his mind. Of course his own magical items, the amber around his neck and the amulet beside it, the ring on his finger, the chalk he had enchanted to help him lecture. Nothing off there. 

There were a few points of magic around the rest of the room, each quickly analyzed and dismissed. Transmutation magic on a small pile of coins near the wall, a low level student’s practice project. Abjuration magic in the wards along the walls. Divination magic in a button, another spying device Astrid had tried to sneak into his class room to keep him from teaching against the school’s policies. 

It was the illusion spells that caught his attention. A few of the students were covered in the same, linked illusion. Their appearance normal enough to blend in, but also entirely too normal for a real student. And there, a student he didn’t recognize even with his keen mind, covered in an illusion spell. Several other magical objects of varying power, hidden under the spell. The Vestige appeared to be within its pocket dimension, so at least they hadn’t brought a weapon onto campus. 

After setting down his things and greeting his class he squeezed past a few of the students to grab Astrid’s enchanted button. He quickly dispelled it and slipped it into an envelope to return to her later. As he returned to the front he gave the cat sitting on his desk a brief scratch. 

“Hello Jester.” He said. Of course he didn’t need Detect Magic telling him of the cat’s aura of Transmutation to know his friend. She was bright blue after all and staring at him far more smugly than even a magic fey cat would. 

“Now class, I know we were discussing transmutation principles as applied to effecting the elements around you, but I am afraid that lesson will have to be postponed. It would seem that it is the anniversary of the Mighty Nein getting together and they have decided to invite themselves to my class.”

There was a muttering around the class room as the students looked at each other, before one of them near the front stood up, the illusion dropping off her form as she did so. 

“I told you he wouldn’t fall for it!” Veth said in her high voice, She looked mostly unchanged from when they first brought her back to her proper body. A few more laugh lines, but nothing more to show the passing two decades. “Lebby, is an amazing wizard, he wouldn’t fall for something simple like that. You students better appreciate the skill of your teacher.”

Caleb smiled fondly as Veth walked up to the front to give him a hug. Interspersed through the seats a few more illusion spells dropped. A half elven man walked up from the front row and kissed him on the cheek. Essek’s own illusion lasting even as he dismissed the Seeming on Kingsley and Yasha. 

“How did they rope you into this?” Caleb whispered to Essek. 

“Oh you know I can’t resist a practical joke.” Essek maintained his deadpan delivery for only a few seconds before a small smile graced his lips. Caleb knew quite well that Essek looked as ageless as ever, under his illusion. His elven blood would keep him looking much the same for the next few centuries. Caleb returned the kiss, to the muttering of his students. They weren’t ever a 100% sure who Caleb’s rotating cast of elven boyfriends were, and Caleb was more than happy to keep them in the dark. 

“Well you can’t fault us for trying!” Kingsley said. They were wearing a scandalously low cut shirt, a pair of plain black pants, and a pair of thigh high boots. His purple hair was fading to a less vibrant shade just a bit near his ears and he had a larger collection of scars, as one would expect from years of piracy and being a bloodhunter. They were also wearing their sword much to Caleb’s disapproval, which was apparently not magical. 

“You can’t expect me to hide this glorious look without magic though can you?” He said, sliding his hands down to his hips then back up his torso. Then he grabbed Caleb’s chin and kissed him full on the mouth, with tongue for several seconds, while his students lost their collective minds. Caleb smiled against Kingsley’s lips right before the tiefling stepped back. He was sure the rumor mill of the school would go wild about that for a few weeks. He wished he could see the look on Master Beck’s face when the news came across her desk. “Here’s to another twenty years, magic man.”

Yasha and Caduceus walked up next, each giving Caleb a tight hug. These two showed their age the least of the non elven members of the Nine. Cad could have been just stepping out of the temple doors in the Blooming Grove, saying that he had only three cups, if it weren’t for the increased presence of lichens and mosses of all kinds on his clothes and armor. Caleb was fairly certain there was an actual bird’s nest in his pink hair. Yasha of course looked as badass and muscular as she had when they first found her. Her hair was completely white, done up in an ornate braid. Home life seemed to suit her well, she looked genuinely happy and relaxed like she certainly hadn’t when they had first gotten together. 

Fjord’s spell dropped as well. The half orc’s hair had large stripes of gray in it, he had crows feet at the corners of his eyes, and his salt and pepper beard had significantly more salt to it now. He still looked good, life at sea, despite its hardships, keeping him fit. He laughed at something over Caleb’s shoulder as he approached and he found himself lifted bodily into the air by a pair of muscular blue arms. 

Jester having dropped her polymorph spun him around briefly in the hug before setting him back on his feet. She would never fail to look divine. Her horns now curling in on themselves, almost like her mother’s had when they first met her. Her hair is pulled back into a pony tail, poofing out behind her head from the salt air. Her sailing days were certainly not hurting her in anyway. Her smile was still just as wide, her eyes just as sharp, and her arms just as strong, if not more so. 

“Happy anniversary Caleb! Twenty years ago you were a stinky wizard. Now you are here teaching!” Jester’s happiness in her voice carried to every corner of the lecture hall. 

“What happened to our plan of drinks in Nicodranas this evening?”

“I just couldn’t wait Cay-leb.” She pouted. “Fjord and I got into port early, and I was so bored.”

Caleb smiled at her, then looked around at the rest of the Nein, pretending to count. 

“We appear to be one short. Where is my sister? Couldn’t drag her away from the Cobalt training pit? Or did she get lost in a book like some kind of nerd?” Caleb said with a smirk.

“Mother fucker!” 

He looked up towards the voice above him, just in time to watch Beauregard drop from the ceiling, to land on his desk with a perfect three point landing. She hopped off the desk and punched his arm, before also grabbing him in a tight hug. 

“I am not a nerd, Widogast!” She snapped, a wide grin on her face. 

“Beauregard, please do not land on my desk. It was a gift and I don’t think it could bare too many impacts like that.” He stopped to look up at the vaulted ceilings of the class room. “Also, how did you get up there?”

If she had been invisible she would have tripped the wards on the class room. And if she had gone in the brief break between classes one of the early students would have noticed her and caused a stir. 

Beau took her turn to smirk. 

“I have been waiting up there for four hours so we could surprise you. It’s surprisingly comfortable. I could have gone another couple of hours without breaking a sweat.” She paused to flex, causing several students, and Yasha to blush at her muscles. 

Beauregard’s monk training meant that she looked like she hadn’t aged a day since Aeor. And she could still easily out fight everyone else in the room if she wanted to. She was also the one member of the Nein that Caleb saw the most frequently. Their work to root out corruption among the Cerberus Assembly, and other bodies of power in the Empire often kept them up together late into the night, until Yasha would intervene and throw her wife over her shoulder to carry her to bed. 

“Can I finish the lesson, or should we depart immediately?” Caleb asked, already guessing the answer. 

“Cayyyllleeeb.” Jester groaned, pulling at her face. “I’m sooooo bored. I want to drink and party already!”

Caleb turned back to his class of students. He was sure most of them had heard rumors about Professor Widogast and the wild adventures he got up to with the Mighty Nein back when they first got together. He wasn’t sure how much they actually believed, but he was sure that even the most widely blown out of proportion tale didn’t even begin to cover the truth of what they had done together. 

“In honor of the anniversary of this group of arschlochs finding each other, consider this to be a free day. Keep up on your readings, and if you have any questions I will be at my regular office hours tomorrow morning.” 

The students immediately started buzzing as they stood and packed. No doubt during tomorrow’s class he would have to field a whole host of questions about the Nein, and that was just the way he liked it. The day after the anniversary was the one day he would talk about what his family had done. As the class filtered out, with many a lingering glance thrown at the colorful group at the front, Caleb turned to Essek, setting the envelope with Astrid’s button in it on the table top to deal with later. 

“Would you like to teleport us to the beach, or shall I?”

Essek put up both hands. 

“I already used my spell slots getting us all back together again. You can bring us to the coast.” Essek said, his smile a mix between smug and fond. 

Caleb rolled his eyes before pulling him into a soft kiss. Then he turned to address the rest of the Nein. The family he had made for himself. 

“Are we ready?” After a series of nods, he pulled an ancient clay turtle from his pocket and gave it a squeeze. “Then let’s go!”

And they were off, to a night of drinks and celebration and stories told, and memories shared. And of course many toasts, “To another twenty years.”

[occultadama]

Appropriating nature - Alpha Males to Worker Ants.

Why do we only aproppriate and relate to nature when it applies to dominance or taking other people's stuff? The best example of this is wolf politics or the fallacy of the "Alpha Male" which found its footing in since debunked science . It was born of synthetic conditions that only tell us the distressed lupine psychology once wolves are held captive. The concept of an "alpha male" is infact modelled on emotional distress displayed by wolves once they are stripped of thier freedom...Alpha Wolfs complete flim flam. (Somewhere Joe Rogan is weeping into a deer carcass)

So post WW2 (The exact time we're our relationship with nature really seems to collapse with the same grace as Charles and Diana - we are Charles in this scenario btw) a scientist named Schenkel was tasked with studying captive wolfs and thier hierarchies. Which was directed to support new ideas of classism and capitalism. The wolves were found to be aggressive (me too if I was trapped in a small lab) to one another fighting and concluding with a victorious male. This made way to the term "Alpha male" and our misunderstanding of archetypal male behaviour. All of which would encourage competitive male work hierarchies and the "dog eat dog", toxic male culture rife in modern culture (i believe everytime "alpha male" is uttered in earnest, a man will start another "political discussion and satire"  podcast and be sponsored by a protein supplement)

What later studies found was these conclusions by schenkel were largely due to the subjects being held in captivity.  Other studies conducted in there natural enviroment found wolf packs operate within family units. The references of alphas refer to the mother and father were "power" is distributed equally and its used more to ensure pack members have what they need I.e being safe and fed. Dominance fights are infact very rare. The study was conducted over 14 years and made none of Schenkels observations of lupin social structures. Concluding "Alpha male" refers exclusive to the breeding couple and nothing else.

Its not more appropriate to refer to a doe deer as an alpha. Its a meaningless term that has been attached to social and institutional structures and then absorbed as fact. The entire justification for schenkels theory is validated by natural science when in reality it just enforces an artifical dominance hierarchy amongst humans. Its like studying humans in prison and asserting  "oh wow humans really like trading things for cigarettes"

Curiously we rarely appropriate nature in regard to insects. The only real comparisons I can strike is with the industrious hard working honey bee - which is directly championing over working for a "hive" or Queen. We even visualise many work infographics as hives. Making a distinction of the lesser workers (bees) and a buisness money pot (queen) A model in lue of the Queen is also exclusively male in our aproppriation. A similar appropriation can be found in our interpretation of ant colonies. The exceptions being that ants triumph due to thier lacking emotional capacity and dominate strength, it resonates better with our misunderstanding of male traits and emotional capacity.

Despite our constant misinterpretation of nature and its absorption into our social structures it communicates the power of natures mascots we use to orientate ourselves and one another. It has been historically used for nefarious gain but can this be subverted? Nature is far more giving and kind than it is dominant and aggressive. How can we appropriate the positive interuptative traits of nature? Could animation be a way to rearrange our entomological appropriation? Is this appropriation of nature good at all? This last one is the trickiest for me.

We mould our understanding of nature in relation to our own human experiences. As a consequence the seperate and complex intelligence of nature is sidelined and abstractified. We no longer look beyond the "Alpha wolf" label for example. A species becomes defined by our reductive and inaccurate human lens. The hard working and robot ant become only this and now incapable of escaping the role human narrative has forced upon it. The appropriation of nature in our language, science and entertainment may in fact shoo away our biophilia. It strips species down to a singular emotional construct.  They can no longer be seen outside of it and this often gets absorbed into popular culture. We rationialise deplorable human behaviour into a precast mould that we pour the natural world into. We simplify and politicise natural  "science" to fortify indifference to one another and often non progressive, Conservative ideal and capitalism. We use it to double down on alot of unnatural evolved human idiocy. As if we are aware it's damaging for all involved so we grasp at the earth to find reasoning. This reminds me alot of Kafkas reflections in regard to bureaucracy and how he projects it onto nature (The Metamorphosis 1915)

The interuptive nature of this phenomena however does leave appropriation vulnerable to the opposite application. As an artist there's a strength to be found in subjectivity and interuptation that isn't bound to accuracy. Illuminating and exaggerating favourable insect behaviour to fit around comparable human habits may encourage behavioral change and biophilia. Appropriation of nature in both a biophobic and biophilic sense supports E O Wilsons observations of us as the "Poetic Species". That we favour our metaphors, symbols and interuptations much more than our data. E.g we have compared and modelled much of our gender roles around misinterpreted or debatable animal pack hierarchies.

Ok. I'm beginning to walk into neighbouring Gardens now, I don't know where I am anymore and people are looking at me through their windows. Il stop here. I've lost my footing and fell into a ditch.

[superlinguo]

Linguistics Jobs: Interview with a Transcriptionist

When we started Lingthusiasm, I knew that transcripts had to be an essential part of the show. They’re so useful for people who can’t listen, people who would refer to read, and for when I want a quick reminder of what we covered in an interview (they’re also very handy for training a bot to take over the show). A few of us wrangled transcripts for a while, but it’s been an absolute delight having Sarah Dopierala on the team, turning our spoken words into written words.

Sarah and I were at SOAS at the same time, and Sarah was in the same MA program as last month’s interviewee, Exhibition Content Manager Emily Gref. In fact, it was Emily who put us back in touch when we were on the look out for a new transcriptionist. I guess then there’s an extra lesson from this month’s interview; the longer you’re around as a linguist, and the more connections you make, the more interesting pathways your career can take you on (The Helsinki Bus Station Theory for linguists)

You can find out more about Sarah’s research and her transcription work on her website, or follow her on Twitter (@SDopierala).

What did you study at university?

I went to the University of Pittsburgh for undergrad and studied linguistics as my major, with a minor in Japanese. It was a very well-rounded education. I studied many of the “core” topics such as phonetics (where I learned the International Phonetic Alphabet, or IPA), phonology, morphology, syntax, and semantics. I also got to study applied linguistics (which as I remember was an interesting class that overviewed many areas of linguistic application including forensic linguistics and even language documentation, among many others) and had a semester on historical linguistics. One of the most unique classes I took though -- which I don’t remember the name of now -- had to do with conlanging and natural language processing. Super cool. Besides linguistics I, of course, had my Japanese language courses and, since it was a liberal arts education, classes on a variety of other subjects including acting classes, art classes, and a physics class. It was good times.

For my master’s degree, I went to SOAS, University of London for an MA in Language Documentation and Description. This was a more specialized degree and a shorter program (1 calendar year) so my subjects were all linguistics related. For instance, I had classes on syntax (specifically looking at Lexical Functional Grammar), field methods, descriptive linguistics, and applied documentation (I think it was called) where we spent a lot of time discussing practical matters of doing research with people -- ethics, research methods, etc. I did get to do a lot of neat curriculum-adjacent things as well. I was a member of the Sylheti Language Project. We hosted a Sylheti language conference as well as published a Sylheti storybook. I got to attend other conferences as well to practice explaining my eventual dissertation topic -- converbs in Sylheti.

As of now, I’ve been accepted to the University of Frankfurt to do a PhD in comparative linguistics, still focusing on converbs only this time in Northwest Caucasian languages. Funding has been something of an adventure, but I remain hopeful! Besides, linguistics is never too far away. What is your job?

My current job is as a transcriptionist. I freelance making transcripts from audio recordings as my day-to-day, money-making job. Sometimes, I freelance through contracting companies. However, I prefer to work for myself and transcribe podcasts -- especially about linguistics! You may have seen my work via the Vocal Fries Podcast, Conlangery, and Lingthusiasm.

To build my transcription skills I took an online transcription course through Transcribe Anywhere. It took a certain investment of time and money, but you come out of there knowing your stuff and with a network of other transcriptionists to help you. I’m still learning a lot about running my own business (since I suppose that’s what freelancing ultimately is), but I feel confident, and it helps that I’m not completely alone.

As a freelancer, my daily schedule is hardly ever the same and I do tend to break it up even more with travel. That’s what I like about it though. I can do the job no matter where I go. As long as I get the job done well and in a timely manner, I can set my own schedule. It definitely takes a certain level of self-discipline to keep a freelancing schedule, that’s for sure.

How does your linguistics training help you in your job?

There are a couple of ways linguistics training helps me with transcription work -- or perhaps even transcription helps me with my linguistics work. My first introduction to transcription was during my master’s degree. As a documentary linguist in training, I made audio recordings with a Sylheti speaker and, in order to further analyze and archive my findings, I had to transcribe them. The difference of course was the goal. For transcribing podcasts and other material in English, the goal is generally to create a well-formatted document following written English conventions. However, transcribing an audio file for linguistic analysis, in general, focuses more on accurately representing the sounds of the language in IPA without reference to prescriptive ideas of what sort of written representation is “well-formatted.” For now, I’m focusing on readable English language documents but, in the future, I will return to transcription for linguistic analysis. I think my approach to that type of transcription will be enriched by this work.

The two types of transcription complement each other. When transcribing linguistics podcasts, I often use IPA to distinguish between different English pronunciations or even to represent non-English words. Just like I use knowledge of linguistic concepts to analyze linguistic data, I call upon quite a bit of that knowledge when I transcribe podcasts as well to not only identify certain terms but to follow the conversation. Understanding the content of the conversation reduces the amount of times I mishear, stop, rewind, listen again, and certainly reduces the time I spend researching unfamiliar topics. When I don’t understand the content of an audio file, I have a hard time predicting what people will say or what they might say. Being able to predict, to a certain extent, what someone might say plays a huge part in transcription and in general language processing as well. Transcribing these podcasts has also been a great way for me to keep up thinking about linguistics, keep up with what’s happening in the field, and keep feeling like I’m part of the community even if I’m not currently “doing linguistics” as my everyday job. 😊

Do you have any advice do you wish someone had given to you about linguistics/careers/university?

I think I’ve been quite lucky in the advice I’ve received over the years, here are two things that have really stuck with me:

 “If you can, study in a different department than your undergrad or masters.”

I have found that working in several different departments has not only helped me grow as a researcher, but it has made me more appreciative of the things I learned in previous departments. There are ideas I may not have been introduced to if I had stayed in one place and many people I would not have met as well. My pool of friends and colleagues has definitely been enriched by getting out of my comfort zone.

“What job do you want to get?”

My undergraduate supervisor asked me this question when I told her about my topic for a PhD thesis. She was of course very supportive of my academic pursuits, but I think this is the first time someone asked me this question in a way that was practical rather than condescending (since not everyone instantly appreciates the worth of linguistic knowledge). I’m so grateful that she did because, up until that point, I pretty much took for granted that I would get a tenure-track job at a great university and do descriptive and documentary research for the rest of forever. Don’t get me wrong, that would be amazing. However, this question made me think. It opened me up to the precarity of academia, the non-guarantee of a well-paying university job, the non-guarantee of any university job for that matter. While I will still reach for that dream researcher position, I am now much more open to other opportunities and other ways of doing what I love.

Any other thoughts or comments?

I’m not (yet) able to completely support myself financially just from transcribing. Like many other freelancing careers, it’s taken quite a bit of time to get myself out there. I do receive help and support from other places. Because of this, I have had the opportunity to spend quite a bit of time learning the trade, reaching out to potential clients, figuring out best practices, etc., while also pursuing my academic dreams, which take their share of time and effort. Perhaps not everybody has this luxury, and I want to acknowledge that as a factor for anyone inspired to consider transcription as a potential career path. However, with some patience, I know that it is very possible to make a comfortable living as a freelance transcriptionist. In fact, I hope that someday transcription can be a main source of income for me as well. In fact, it’s one of my potential “non-tenure” jobs -- especially if it means I can still be close to linguistics! 😉

Recently:

Interview with an Exhibition Content Manager

Interview with a Community Outreach Coordinator

Interview with a Marketing Content Specialist

Interview with a Software Engineer

Interview with a Product Manager

Check out the Linguist Jobs Master List and the Linguist Jobs tag for even more interviews

[sfiddy]

So Bad

For @academialynx , who made a donation to her local food bank in return for a fic!  This is a college AU, moderately prof/student (though the theme is that they DON’T break the rules) boatloads of yearning, and janky building maintenance that leads to getting locked in a closet.  She asked me to consider the Brandon Colbein song So Bad.  Which I did.  :)

Thank you, Dear!  Here we go!

Rated T

On AO3

On FF

On Tumblr!  (keep reading!)

Another champagne cork popped and a delighted cheer spread through the room.  Glasses, plastic cups, and hastily drained coffee mugs were refreshed and the party carried on.  Theirs was not a large music department, so to have attracted a fresh, exciting, multi-talented composition and collaborative piano specialist with a few international awards, one ‘early career’ grant and another from the National Endowment for the Arts meant their modest program was about to gain a little fresh clout at interdepartmental tenured faculty meetings.

“Congratulations again, Erik!”  Dr. Nadir Khan hauled Erik into a vigorous handshake and pumped for a full three seconds.  

Erik winced.  He’d be hamfisting the keys tomorrow if they kept this up.  “Thank you, Dean Khan.  It’s an honor to join as a full professor.”

“I am Nadir to you, and don’t forget it.”  Nadir refilled Erik’s plastic cup and tapped his department coffee mug against it, sloshing their champagne into frothy heads.  “It’s hard to believe it’s been five years, Erik!  You cost me a bet, I’ll have you know.  I didn’t think you’d stay after you had to teach that semester of History of Rock and Roll for non-majors.”

The lantern-jawed oboe professor laughed.  “Or the infamous Intro to Music Theory.”

“No, no,” disagreed Umbaldo Piangi, the portly voice teacher.  “When I went on sabbatical to Teatro La Fenice and you gave him The Chamber Music Outreach Project and graduate tutoring.  No warning!”  Even the big man’s clucking tongue was musical.  “But, Piangi is back, no?  I will cut back my performance hours and take back all the lessons and weekends and let Dr. Erik Devereaux return to his writing!”

“Actually,” Erik said, and the room stilled.  “The only part I disliked was the public part.  I never minded the private instruction.  If you would like to split the load, I’m happy to keep the instructional portion while you handle the tours, performances, and...outreach?”  He suppressed the grimace well enough.

Piangi, Italian down to his fine shoes, let out a whoop and grabbed Erik in a hug so tight it pressed his ribcage and nearly dislodged his delicate porcelain mask from it’s fine wire and leather fittings.

“Ah, my partner now!  I will call donors and show off the little tweeting songbirds with my lovely Carlotta while you teach them not to call for worms!  A toast!”  Piangi held up his plastic cup once again.  

Erik accepted a toast that crackled the edge of his plastic cup and hoped for something new and shiny to distract them.  Or for the lights to suddenly flicker and fail as they were prone to do, along with randomly closing doors in the terribly laid out office and work spaces.  The college had access to talent pipelines that the underfunded and neglected department had not been able to tap.  Their aggressive recruitment of him was a last ditch effort for change before the tiny group was relegated to a four piece for the university reagent’s cocktail brunch and a marching band for the far-better funded football team.

“To Dr. Devereaux!”

With a conspiratorial grin, Erik drained his cup and winked at Piangi.  “To the songbirds.”

…

Tenure in hand, Erik started his campaign.  Once he ditched the worst teaching credits to lecturers and adjuncts, he could focus on recruiting.  Specifically, to score a few respected but not-yet-headliner talents.  Emerging performers without a good gig had few options and the status and modest stipend to be a ‘visiting artist’ might be more attractive than the floating gulag of a cruise ship.  

A few excellent but relatively unknown performers could teach and perform, receive some finishing, and get quickly farmed out into the world.  The reputation-building move would be pricey, but no one gets paid dividends before investing.

His development grant would cover three such artists.  He got more than fifty applications.  Erik rubbed his eyes under the mask.  It was a good thing he never had plans-- it would be a long weekend.

…

The old music labs building had settled over the years and gained what the senior faculty referred to as ‘personality’.   Erik took this to mean ‘genially hazardous’.  No amount of facility requests or complaints brought the doors and keys division to do maintenance.

He was a quick learner though, and only got locked in his workroom twice before catching the door with his foot became second nature.   He even set a flaking brick, plucked from a neglected flower bed outside, in the corner by the door and kicked it against the frame as a doorstop.  Every time he came to his workroom, a narrow converted closet with a work bench and packed with shelves of manuscripts, music, errant repair kits and recording equipment, he would hit the outside light switch, unlock the door, step in, catch the door, then kick the brick.  

Switch, step, catch, kick.  His shoes were gaining new wear marks.

After kicking the brick into place, Erik opened his laptop and went over the last files.  He’d asked the department admins to strip out the audio files to just the audition pieces and remove identifying details from the fifty applications.  If he was going to invite talent, their first hurdle would be their musicianship.  Once he’d culled the herd to ten, he’d submitted his picks to the dean to select the three finalists.  Now they needed invitations.  Two vocalists and a classical guitarist made the cut and he spent the next few hours getting more acquainted with their files and ignoring the pings of his filling inbox.

At least it was just his inbox.  No one came to the music labs and his closet if they could help it.

If he was honest, no one came to meet him in person if they could help it.

…

Most performers were beautiful.  Entire websites and product lines were devoted to skincare for singers, makeup tutorials, look books and wardrobe consulting.  Erik’s particular variety of deformity would stand out in any circumstances, but in an entire department stuffed with the striking, stunning, and unconventionally glorious, he bordered on eyesore.  Even Piangi could command a room with his generous, rosy smiles and booming laugh.  

The mask was the best combination of memorable and functional he could muster.  Yes, surgery was an option but who signed up for years of unnecessary pain and the risk of infection?  He had better things to do.  

Like meet with his new visiting artists.  

The classical guitarist had supple wrists and forearms like Popeye.  His rolled cuffs drew the eye to the action while his cleverly knotted scarf kept you looking at his face, framed by artfully mussed hair.  

“We’re looking forward to your first concerts and hope you’ll consider collaborations with local programs.”

The baritone had a one in a million voice.  How he hadn’t been snapped up for opera yet was a mystery but Erik supposed it was his poor presence.  When you had the goods, you still had to sell them, and the young man’s love of neon, bad hair, and questionable repertoire (pin the tail on a Hal Leonard page) needed polish.  His work was shockingly precise and sounded like he had a cathedral in his mouth.

“Our faculty and staff are a rich resource for young performers and are always eager to assist.  We often work in parallel with the communications department and local professionals to prepare our artists for the culture and community as well as the stage.”

The soprano was the risk.  The recording had been largely boilerplate and her prior experience thin.  The reason she got in was a one-point-two second pause in her audition tape.  It was the silence that told Erik she had chops.  

Imagine, a soprano unafraid of silence.  It had been late in the weekend when he selected her and had not yet been able to examine the head shot.

“I… um...”

“Yes, Dr. Devereaux?”

“Welcome, Miss Daaé.”

…

The visiting artists would survey classes, provide demonstrations and guest lectures, and appear at university events, auditions, and generally get the word out that the department was shifting to a growth phase.  That was the official description.  Unofficially, there would be a mountain of effort to make each emerging artist a shot on goal for the department.  Recording deals, major and paid appearances, and successful auditions all counted toward the tally.  

Guitar was not Erik’s forte, and as much as he could contribute to the baritone’s look and polish, Erik had cultivated a far more… refined profile than the young man aspired to.  Erik maintained collars sharp enough to cut bread and a spotless sheen on his porcelain mask.  Right now, Dean Khan aspired to cut the young man’s mullet tail off.  

“Excellent, Miss Daaé, right on time.”  Erik slid the fall board up and they prepared to work.  She understood how to modulate her tone, how to select the emotional pitch to match the song, to contrast with it for effect.  She explored her range and willingly failed to find her borders.  It all made for an excellent student.

It was the quiet that made her breathtaking.  The anticipation of her.  Tenths of seconds that tightened the chest and made a quiver run through the blood.  Not often, only when it mattered, and only when it would matter enough to do so.  

When he could stand it no more, he asked her about it.

“I’m sorry, I can try to stop.”

“I didn’t ask you to stop, I asked when you started doing it.”

She considered him, her ribbons of curling hair twisting as she shifted.  “When my father was sick.  I could feel the need for silences because he couldn’t talk anymore.  It just felt… right.”

Erik nodded.  “Again.”

…

She’d been a late bloomer.  A ghost on the scene and at least five years older than the rest of the sopranos at her stage.  It also meant she hadn’t spent her entire high school and college career belting Broadway in the recital rooms, building nodes on her vocal chords.  

They finished late one night and he walked her to her car.  “So what did you do for practice?”

She pinked under the parking lot lights.  “I, um… waited tables at an Italian restaurant.  You know, where your server might sing opera when they bring you breadsticks?”

Erik nodded.  “Parmesan and Puccini?”

Bless her, she giggled.  “Bellinis and Bellini.  A few really knew when they were hearing but most just wanted to hear Nessun Dorma because they heard it on Youtube.  I managed to get a few singing jobs out of it but I mostly just waited tables.”  They stopped at her car but she hadn’t reached for her keys yet.  “I was a bartender and the second understudy for a Gilbert and Sullivan society when I saw your announcement.”

“Their loss,” Erik said.  He left off the second half.

“Thanks.”  Christine hesitated.  “I didn’t expect to be accepted, so… thanks.”  

Something changed in the breeze.  Something cool and soft in the night air mixed with the gold light pouring down from the lights.  It highlighted the curls that spiralled out of control around her neck as she tilted her head just so.  

It was just a moment, a funny thump that ricocheted in his chest at her upturned face, her soft smile.  Maybe her eyes flicked down, maybe her sharp inhale had a little catch in it.  Maybe it was the way her lip twitched, but a red flag suddenly waved in Erik’s head and he stepped back carefully.  He had a powerful fear of heat and burns.

“Yes, of course.  The, uh, department was very happy to offer the opportunity.”

She blinked.  “Of course.  Well, thanks for the great session and walking me to my car.  Have a nice evening, Erik.”

Christine drove away and Erik stood in the parking lot for some minutes after her taillights had faded.  He imagined it.  Surely, he’d taken a friendly conversation the wrong way.  She wasn’t his student, strictly speaking, but he had influence over her career, which would be just as bad.  

Besides, he had completely misread the whole thing.  Surely.  Women didn’t look up at him like that-- like he would kiss them.  After a walk after dark, telling him about themselves, and looking at him like that.

No one looked at him like... that.

Oh no.

…

She wasn’t strictly his student.  He was her mentor.  Even a brief thought made it obvious and completely inappropriate.  Did she think it would improve her opportunities?

Erik swallowed.  No, if that was the game she wouldn’t have backed off.  Surely he’d misread the situation.

…

They brewed tea together.  She remembered his favorite oolong.

…

He saw a cascade of curling hair on his way to the post office and his heart leapt.

It wasn’t her.  The disappointment was too confusing to examine.

…

His mouth went dry when her sweater slipped from her shoulder.  Then he knocked the music from the stand.

She smiled and helped him pick up the sheets.  

There were freckles on her shoulder.

... 

Five months into the visiting artist tour and Piangi had the concert hall packed for their first performances.  Franco the guitarist, who preferred just the one name, would play a twenty minute set, followed by the baritone Burton Armstrong, as baritoney a name as Erik had ever heard, then Christine, and finally Franco would play again with accompaniment.  

Erik was content to stay in a tiny box seat far to the side as Piangi introduced each performer.  Franco had gained the stage he deserved, and Burton had been convinced to get a proper haircut and suit, and sang a particularly impressive Russian ballad set.  

Christine was introduced and settled onto the stage.  She was radiant in dark blue, and decorated her baroque set with agility.  From his perch, Erik could as easily imagine her distributing bellinis as gracing an opera stage.  It was not an insult.  After her short set, she nodded and was joined by Burton.  A duet?  

She looked up and found him, up in his perch.  She nodded, and the two launched into a series of excerpts from Semele, Handel’s somewhat neglected tale of a torrid affair between a mortal woman and the god, Jupiter.

Their gazes met as she sang.

O Jove! In pity teach me which to choose,

Incline me to comply, or help me to refuse!

The baritone thundered.

Too well I read her meaning,

But must not understand her.

If Erik’s ears heard the rest of the concert, he could not recall it later.

…

Dean Khan adjourned the faculty meeting.  “Oh Erik, if you have a moment?”

They waited until the room was cleared and Nadir closed the door, then casually looked over the remaining pastries.  “Excellent concert last month.  The work with Burton is certainly paying off.”  

Erik leaned against the table.  “His socks were bright green, but we felt it was a workable compromise.”

“Franco is excellent in front of the crowd.  Has he met the flamenco dancers yet?”

“I put in a call.  I think he’s going to their weekly meeting next Thursday.”

“Marvelous.  Let me know how that goes when you hear, won’t you?”

“Of course.”  Erik felt his chest tighten the longer Nadir perused the snacks and chose to tear off the bandage himself.  “Anything else?”

“There is, in fact,” Nadir did not look up from the muffins.  “Christine’s performance was exceptional.  Truly filled with passion.”

Erik tried to take a sip of coffee but his cup was empty.  He faked it.  “She’s a wonderful artist.”

“Yes.  I couldn’t help but notice--” Nadir paused over the croissants, then passed them over to examine the cookies.  “You two seem to have a unique and strong mentor-trainee relationship.”

“Thank you.”  It had not been a question.  There was nothing here… yet.  “We work well together.”  

“I’m glad to hear that.  The program you’ve created is admirable for it’s transparency and integrity.”

“I agree.  Thank you for noticing.”

Nadir looked up with a slight nod, then selected a macadamia cookie.  “I’m sure the remaining six months will fly by, Erik.”

He had no idea how to respond.

...

Six months.  There were six months left in the visiting artist term.  There were more sessions, a mini tour, and a series of small concerts meant to showcase the new talent the department had ‘produced’.  

Six months of lies, pretending he was misunderstanding something.  Pretending he didn’t notice the way she was at his side and on his mind.  Then she would leave him to the dull, overworked life he’d made for himself in the hopes of making a name for himself while simultaneously avoiding attention.  More lies, but easier to swallow.  

Her voice came from the hallway.  “Erik?  I’m heating up some water, would you like tea?”

“Is it the one you brought?”

A light laugh.  Sparkling.  “Of course.”

He dropped his work and grabbed his cup.  “Be right there.”

…

A very successful fundraiser was wrapping up on the top floor of the performing arts center.  It had a view over the campus, the nice side, and the glow of downtown caught the streaking rain on the tall glass walls.  

The donors had been generous, delighted with the new features of the program and the willingness to be accessible.  Erik stayed to the side, avoiding the center of the room where Piangi and his wife Carlotta took up residence.  Nadir circulated the room, nudging him out from time to time for a refill and to participate.  When forced to do so, Erik sloshed some middling red wine into his glass and let himself slip into Christine’s gravity for a few minutes before drifting away again.  

He could feel her gaze.

The cocktail party was to end at eleven-thirty, and by then nearly all the guests had left.  The last ones were rushed  out and Piangi hurried to the bar.  

“Open season!” 

A quick crush to the bar and every open bottle was ‘liberated’ to the long-suffering exhibits.  Christine topped off her glass and passed the bottle to a fellow soprano, hardly twenty years old, and the two laughed and kicked off their heels.  Piangi and Burton laughed over an earlier flub and the cello player, finally able to pack his instrument and relax, demanded and received a full glass.

Erik tipped back a hearty, warm swallow and emerged from the hinterlands.

“Oh, hi Dr. Devereaux!  Did you just get here?” teased Carlotta.  “Your legend only grows the more you hide.”

“All part of my devious plan,” he conceded.  Christine’s giggle mingled with the laughs of her peers.  “If you’ll excuse me.  Piangi, brilliant as always.”

“Same to you, Erik!  We plan many parties now, no?”

Easing his way towards the mirth, Erik relaxed.  There were plenty of others around, and this was just the after party to a long dog and pony show.  Listen to the pretty songbirds and throw money at the program, invitation only.  They all deserved drinks after three hours of that.

Christine was plucking a pin from her hair.  She shook the curls loose.  “Hi Erik!  God, I’m so glad to see you.”

“Oh?”

She held up a bottle.  “Yeah, you need a refill.”  

It had been a long night.  These events could be tricky to navigate.  Sometimes there was politics, other times business rivals.  More often, donors expected special privilege and access in exchange for their checks, as if the last hundred years of progress meant nothing.  The way a few of them had looked at Erik, maybe it didn’t.  

He let her pour some white wine over the dregs of his red.  Improvised rosé.  “Everything go okay?”  

“Good enough.  I think I have some auditions, and some stuff nearby might open up for me.”

“That’s great.  Who with?”

A nice chorus.  A solid baroque group.  Both could springboard to bigger things.  A few bigger things were here.  

“What’s bigger?”  She asked, her eyes dark and soft.  

He had not meant to speak, and now he rushed his words.  “Things!  Choirs, operas.  There’s a few small opera troupes and there’s churches that need choral directors that know how to work with organ and piano.”

She sniggered.  “Organs.”  The other soprano dissolved into giggles.

Erik pulled out his phone.  Clearly neither was driving tonight.  He absently tallied up his glasses and admitted he wasn’t either.

“Do you play the organ, Erik?”

“Yes.”

Christine stepped closer and, on pure instinct, Erik put his arm around her as she turned her head to speak.

“Can I watch?”  

His collar was tight.  He pulled up the app and ordered a car.

They ran through the rain, more than sprinkled, less than soaked.  Plenty wet to shiver from the chill of the driver’s exuberant air conditioning, though.  Between giggles and poorly composed directions, they dropped off the other soprano who wobbled successfully to her door before their driver sped away.  Christine did not shift away to the other seat, but leaned into him, tucking herself against his side.  

The driver glanced in the rear view mirror, then looked away.

She was cool and smooth.  Her loosened curls had tightened from the wet and tickled his neck and brushed against his mask.  

Her hand on his thigh.  Erik said nothing.  If he was silent there was a kind of deniability, or denial at least, of what was happening.  If he could deny that her fingernails caught on the inner seam of his trousers, then she could deny that his hand was firmly planted at her waist, holding her close.

And if she could deny that, then she could also deny that her nose bumped his chin, her ragged breath loud in his ears.  And they could both deny that their lips grazed, a not-kiss somehow more intimate than if their lips moved and pulled at each other.  Like her singing, it was the pause that made your breath catch and your insides tug.

“What number?”

Dashboards lights reflected in her eyes.  “That one,” she said, and cautiously settled.  The driver pulled forward and Christine unbuckled.  

“Good night, Erik.  See you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Christine.”

The driver glanced in the rearview.  Erik looked down.  “Sorry.”

The driver shrugged.  

One more month.

…

He was hiding.  He’d been hiding for weeks; stopped looking for her, stopped even wondering where she was or if she was alone.  There was no way to be near her without the pretense of a piano that wouldn’t leave him shaking.  No way to think about her without wanting.

He was Erik, a composer, a conductor, performer, designer of auditory spaces and translator of music.  He was a collaborative pianist and vocal specialist.  He’d given everything to music and the service of it, the delivery of it.  He didn’t need this. He’d never had this.

No one ever offered.  So he’d found fulfillment elsewhere, until now.

Erik hunched over his work, safely tucked into his corner of the music labs building.  Between grading, senior thesis submissions, revisions to his own publications, and a request for a letter of recommendation, he could be plenty busy late into the night with no need for anyone to--

“Hello?  Erik?”

Erik snatched at his mask and settled it.  He’d been found.  Time to lie, except he can’t lie to her.

“Can I help you with something, Christine?”  He gathered a stack and stood.  She met him by his door.

“Well, yeah,” she paused, blocking his path momentarily before stepping aside.  “I need your signature on my visiting artist release.  And another on my endorsement for my new job.”

Erik hefted his armload to the work closet.  “I’m sure they look forward to meeting you.  Come on.”  He unlocked the door and held it open, then followed behind her, hitting the light switch with his elbow before catching the door on his foot, then he kicked the brick into place.  He had to hold the stack to keep it from spilling across the work table.

She handed him the forms.  Erik moved to a span of clean tabletop and started scanning the release form.  Government agency boilerplate to satisfy the grant was mixed with flowery language so no one would suspect they were anything but artists.  Yesterday Franco had brought Burton’s form-- yep, this was Christine’s.  So on and so forth.

Erik had just finished scratching out his signature when he heard a familiar scrape.

“Why on earth do you keep a-”

Click.

“--brick?”

Erik pressed the heel of his hand into his chin.  

“Are we… locked in?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”  A faint rumble vibrated in the walls.  “I don’t suppose that was just… construction?”

Erik let out a mirthless laugh.  “There were storms brewing earlier.  Besides, does this building look like they work on it?”

“Not really.”

Another rumble, louder, and the light fixture jittered.  

Christine finally took a deep breath.  “Have you been avoiding me?”

“No!  Yes.  I don’t know.”  He touched his hairline, recapped a pen.  “We crossed a line.  I had to get back behind it and I couldn’t if we…”  His hands skated across the table top nervously.  

“Is this about being my mentor?”

Erik barked an ugly, bitter laugh.  “What else?  God, you just, out of nowhere, with your smiles, and the way you look at me, and sing to me, and the Semele…” Erik’s skin grew tight as he recalled the cocktail party.  He turned, face growing hot beneath the porcelain and his throat tightening.  He was a ruin.

“--and the touching and wanting and you’re… you’re just going to leave!  I’m a fucking idiot!”

On cue, an extended, throaty roar of thunder rattled the stone and brick until the bare bulb above could suffer no more.  With a loud pop, the narrow room went dark.  They both scuffled in the dark until they had hold of something sturdy.

“Erik?”

He was embarrassed.  He was frustrated.  “What.”

“You need to sign the other form.”

“Want to get away that bad?  Fine.”  He reached for a desk lamp and tried to turn it on.  He flipped the switch furiously.  The power was out.

“Here,” Christine held up her phone and lit the screen.  Her screensaver was… them? Beside a piano together?

Erik snatched a pen from the table and slashed his name.  “There.  Just search for facilities or call the university police.  They can unlock the door.”

“Erik, did you even look at it?”

“Why bother.”

She snorted at him.  “God, you’re so blind.”

“The lights were out.”

“Fine, you want to be a jerk, be one, but at least look at where I’m taking a job before you decide to walk.”

She lit up her phone once more and he glared at the page like it was staring at his mask.  He tracked the offer and terms until he reached the party names and…

“You took a job at… a middle school?  Here?”  He looked up into the dim light.  “You’re not leaving?”

“Meet the new grade six to eight choir director.  Go Scotties.  And now you have no direct influence over my career.”

Her screensaver dimmed, and before it went dark, Erik could make out a flash of their faces, turned to each other.  He wondered if Nadir had seen this moment, because they looked as passionate as lovers despite being feet apart.

The room went black again, and he could hear her moving.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“That much has been apparent.  What do you know?”

She was close.  Close enough to feel the way she shifted the air.  “I know way too much about motif design, lyric phrasing--”

Closer.  “Go on.”  Her hips were near his. 

“Harmonic theory, vocals”

 “Can attest.”  Her fingertips were at his jawline, tracing his mask.  “I thought it would be cold.”

“It’s been on my face all day.  Early Romantic era competition and,” his voice scraped over gravel, “that I want you. So bad.”

Her kiss was her reply.  Erik’s hands flew around her as she pivoted to the table with him, dragging his mask upwards.  He gasped as cool air brushed his face, followed by light, curious fingertips and her hot mouth.  Erik knocked over the stack of papers and files with a satisfying splatter.

“Is that light over there?” she asked, dragging her lips from his.  “Around that cabinet door?”

“What?” he panted.  “I thought that was a panel.”

She pushed him off gently, peering up at the wall.  “Right there, see?”

Sure enough, there was a thin line of light.  It was a hidden door with a magnetic latch. 

“They can’t keep the regular door from locking you in but they put a trick door at the back?”  Erik complained as he climbed through awkwardly.  Very awkwardly.  Her lips were red and swollen.

“Let me grab my things and we can get out of here.”

Erik checked his watch.  “First, we’re turning in your forms.”

“It’s almost five!”

“We’ll make it if we run.”

Panting, they caught the dean just as he was packing up to leave.

“Erik, Christine?  Are you alright?  That was some storm we--”

Erik shoved the forms at him.  “Yep. Terrible storm.  Here.”

“Indeed, Erik.  Why, your hair is a mess and I’ve never seen your shirt untucked.”

“Big wind.  Yep.  Almost hit by lightning.  Here, time stamp?”

“Miss Daaé, you may want to adjust…”

“For God’s sake just take the stupid form so we can go!” Christine shouted.

Nadir laughed and scanned the forms.  “I don’t want to see you until Monday, Erik.  You better be late.”

He didn’t make it in until Wednesday.

...

[dzeikobb]

20.01.2021

Leo Bersani - Homos

Monique Witting

Judith Butler

Michael Warner

Andre Gide, Jean Genet, Proust

desire for the same and desire for the lack

anticommunitarian impulses they discover in homosexual desire

The Immoralist, Sodome et Gomorrhe, Funeral Rites

how desire for the same can free us from oppresive psychology of desire as lack (a psychology that grounds sociality in trauma and castration)

a salutary devalorizing of difference

difference not as a trauma to overcome (it nourishes antagonistic relations between the sexes), but rather as a nonthreatening supplement to sameness

"Once we agreed to be seen, we also agreed to be policed"

a traditional sanctification of state authority

The Archaeology of Late Antique 'Paganism' edited by Luke Lavan, Michael Mulryan

Constructing Postmodernism By Brian McHale

reading modernistically - paranoiacally

New Criticism, New Critical institutionalization of modernism

paranoid reading is assumed to be the appropriate norm of reading

then postmodernist texts appear which assume and anticipate paranoid reading-habits

they incorporate representations of (fictional) paranoid interpretations (conspiracy theories) or paranoid reading practices, or they thematise paranoia itself, reflecting, anticipating, perhaps pre-empting actual readers' paranoid readings.

La Jalousie, Pale Fire, The Crying of Lot 49, De Lillo Running Dog/The Names/Libra, The Name of the Rose and Foucault's Pendulum

"the idea is not to discover the secret, but to construct it"

no longer an epistemological quest, but an enterprise unconstrained by criteria of truth and evidence (world-building?)

an experiment in self-conscious world-making, a cosmological matter (novel-writing enterprise is one as well)

one projects (calls into being) an entity, anticipating a response

Masons, Illuminati, Rosicrucians, Gender-LGBT

"he declares that the league exists so that people will then create it"

St Anselm ontological proof of God's existence

confusing existence in thought with existence in reality

but: they project into reality the non-existent entities

inventing nonsenses, but the public will want to pursue them if they hear of them

"we've shown the necessity of the impossible"

"we invented a non-existent Plan, and they not only believed it was real but convicted themselves that they had been part of it for ages, or rather they identified fragments of their muddled mythology as moments of our Plan"

ontological side effects of world-making: the projected world has begun to contaminate the real world

there might come a time when the projected world will supplant the real world

Frederick Jameson: Postmodernism, or The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism

symptomatic works and diagnostic works

reflections or expressions of late-capitalist social and economic relations

diagnostic works aspire to produce some image/figure/representation of the unrepresentably complex multinational world-system in which we live

Kevin Andrew Lynch was an American urban planner and author. He is known for his work on the perceptual form of urban environments and was an early proponent of mental mapping.

cognitive mapping

Conspiracy paranoia is a recurrent cultural phenomenon especially in American political life, with successive waves of anti-Masonism, anti-Catholicism, anti-Communism etc

Hypothesis: Whenever the complexity of the social-economic system outstrips our capacity to represent it to ourselves, conspiracy theory arises to fill the gap as the "poor person's cognitive mapping"

The recurrence of crises of cognitive mapping

responses to successive crises of society's self-imagining

"fossilized" attempts at the cognitive mapping (reminds me of Deleuze and geology - paranoic geology of the psyche?)

late-capitalist high-tech versions of conspiracy and the postmodernist resurgence of traditional conspiracy theories

Constructivism's basic epistemological principle is that all our cognitive operations, including (or especially) perception itself, are theory-dependent. This means, first of all, that data do not exist independently of a theory that constitutes them as data.

Granted the theory-dependency of "facts", it follows that faithfulness to objective "truth" cannot be a criterion for evaluating versions of reality (since the truth will have been produced by the version that is being evaluated by its faithfulness to the truth, and so on, circularly). The appropriate criteria for evaluation now are, for instance, the explicitness of the version, its intersubjective accessibility, its "empirical-mindedness", i.e. its aspiration to be as empirical as possible, where empiricism is not a method but a horizon to be approached only asymptotically; and above all, the adequacy of the version to its intended purpose. In other words, constructions, or what I have been calling versions of reality, are strategic in nature, that is, designed with particular purposes in view.

cities constructed, not given or found

or are they?

Parisian structuralist narratology - Barthes, Bremond, Genette, Greimas, Todorov

21.20.2020

I have been watching protest of the Women's Strike. On my phone, at my desk, at home, later from bed. I have been unable to attend due to my deteriorating mental health condition. How to describe the feeling and the atmosphere of this protest? I will juxtapose the following:

Hierarchy - Presence - Genital - Narrative - Metaphysics - Determinacy - Construction of a world-model - Ontological certainty [modernism]

Anarchy - Absence - Polymorphous - Anti-narrative - Irony - Indeterminacy - Deconstruction of a world-model - Ontological uncertainty [postmodernism]

What I saw leads me to believe that I should associate my perception of protests with the latter column.

A plot: events arranged in temporal sequence, a causal motivation for the sequence

modernism and postmodernism not as period styles, one of them current and the other outdated, more like alternative stylistic options between which contemporary writers are free to choose without that choice necessarily identifying them as either avant-garde or arriere-garde.

The dissolution of the library and the world

And then collecting the fragments (relics) of the burned library

What if the library does not burn, but is flooded?

What if it dissolves into a flood of meaningless text

An overflow of meanings leading to the ultimate loss of all meaning

An overabundance of points and places in the map causing the map to become illegible

Alain Robbe-Grillet: Instead of having to deal with a series of scenes which are connected by causal links, one has the impression that the same scene is constantly repeating itself, but with variations"

"narrative as a systematic application of the logical fallacy denounced by scholasticism under the formula post hoc, ergo propter hoc"

"a complex web of responses to and repetitions of earlier works, visual and textual, creative and critical" (isn't any text/work such a web?)

Gradiva - Novel by Wilhelm Jensen

Topologie d'un cite phantome Robber-Grillet

"a narrative which has abandoned any sense of progress and explores the past as a set of variations on a split and dispersed present"

Vigo-Atlantis on the connecting point of three continents-islands

it is inundated in never-stopping rain

Ruins of Warsaw after World War 2 turned into a closed-off monument and after the fall of communism, into a "tragedy-amusement park", somewhat like Westerplatte

a participant of the Warsaw Uprising and a young Jew-Robinson (a descendant of other Robinsons) who survived hiding in ruins until present time both emerge and react differently: the insurgent tries to kill tourists thinking they are Germans and is killed by security himself and the Robinson goes back to hiding, understanding that the world has experienced an apocalypse and a new world has emerged, in which there is no place for him.

22.01.2020

Właśnie przechodzę przez kolejny nawrót depresji, nie stać mnie na terapię, nie jestem w stanie z kimkolwiek rozmawiać, nienawidzę stanu, w którym jest moja skóra i ciało, za bardzo się wstydzę, by naprzykrzać się komukolwiek opowiadaniem o moich problemach, mam za mało pieniędzy, prawie nie mam pracy, nie mam dokąd uciec, nie mogę nawet wyjechać za granicę, rzuciłem studia po raz piąty w życiu i ignoruję te kilka osób, którym jeszcze choć trochę na mnie zależy.

[starstruckteacup]

Cottagecore Films (pt. 11)

A Little Princess (1995)

starring Liesel Matthews, Liam Cunningham, Vanessa Chester, Eleanor Bron

synopsis

I was extremely disappointed in this film, to put it lightly. The story itself was beautiful, but that is thanks exclusively to the novel on which it was based. The movie itself utterly failed to convey the magic and timelessness of the book. The acting was flat, emotionless, and forced at every point, from every actor (except for maybe Cunningham, but he was absent for half of it). One would think a gaggle of girls would have some form of natural chemistry, whether pulling them together or apart, but not a single child actor portrayed even the remotest semblance of a relationship to another. (Note: I describe in my review of Pan’s Labyrinth what quality acting from a child looks like, for reference.) Even Matthews and Cunningham could not pass a believable father-daughter relationship, despite the story being about that. As far as emotional acting, the adults were just as bad as the children. They couldn’t even feign a single moment of joy, sadness, or anger, regardless of the context. I actually laughed for the entire scene during which Sara nearly died because of how bad the acting from the adults was. At least Chester seemed somewhat worried; Bron and the nameless police officers stood around so vacantly it looked like they forgot what was happening. I really was appalled by the abysmal acting, especially when so much was handed to them in the story. I want to preface my next point by saying that yes, I know computer animation was still a work in progress in the 90s. But this was horrifyingly awful. I have never once, not in my entire life, seen CGI as terrible as the monster in Sara’s stories. I nearly gave up on the entire movie within the first five minutes because of that monster. And it kept showing up, which absolutely ruined whatever favor I tried to hold for this movie. If you don’t have the budget, which this film clearly didn’t, don’t try to animate a monster. It’s that simple. I wish I had more words for it but it was truly so atrocious that I’m at a loss. Any good will I hold for this movie is due to my fondness for the story (no credit to the film), the settings (while not exceptional, they were fairly pretty), and Liam Cunningham’s acting. 2/10

Elizabeth: The Golden Age (2007)

TW: blood, mild gore, torture, racism against indigenous people

starring Cate Blanchett, Geoffrey Rush, Clive Owen, Abbie Cornish, Jordi Mollà, Samantha Morton

This film is the sequel to Elizabeth (1998) (see part 10 of my film reviews), which continues the story of Queen Elizabeth I as her rule progresses. Tensions between Catholic Spain and Protestant England grow ever greater, escalating to treasonous plots and assassination attempts. Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, and King Philip II of Spain conspire to depose Elizabeth and place Mary on the throne, restoring Catholicism as the national religion. Even as these events lead to war between the two superpowers, the court provides no sense of stability as new faces and new stresses surround the Virgin Queen. She forms a strong friendship with the pirate Walter Raleigh upon his return trip from the New World, where he seeks to establish colonies under the English flag. However, his stay is extended greatly when Elizabeth’s selfishness and pride take over, and are only broken down in the face of battle when she puts him at the forefront of the British navy. Outnumbered, Elizabeth will need Raleigh’s loyalty and cunning, along with the unwavering loyalty of her people, if they wish to survive the Spanish onslaught.

While still a drama, this film proved to be much more war-oriented than its predecessor, but I’m not sure it did either as well. I liked the deeper look this film gave us into the Elizabeth’s mind, especially with her social and emotional conflicts. They remind us that she is still human, despite the somewhat cold appearance the first film gave her at the end. She is more mature, and even more prideful, but there’s still a limit to what she can take as a person. I think the first film gave a better portrayal of her complicated mind, but this was a solid continuation of what years of ruling can do. I also liked how much detail they put into Raleigh’s character, which the first film didn’t do as well with its secondary characters. We got to know more about him, even if he did still feel somewhat surface-level. I think the dramatic aspects could have felt more high-stakes than they did, especially for the characters who were actually in danger. Even though so many characters were actively committing treason, I only felt that level of tension with one: Mary Stuart. Her death was particularly elegant and laden with symbolism, and even though I knew the outcome historically the scene still delivered the anxiety it was meant to. The others simply didn’t have the same delivery. Even the assassination attempt didn’t project any kind of concern, regardless of one’s historical knowledge. The war focus was a fairly different take than the first had, which I appreciated. The film established a strong balance between the tensions in England, Scotland, and Spain, and did a good job making the stakes very clear for each group. Given the uncritically positive stance on England that this film takes, I would have expected the film to villainize Spain a little more to form a stronger dichotomy between the two rulers, but Spain was presented rather neutrally to the audience. The Spanish ruler and nobles didn’t have much character, despite being the antagonist. As for that uncritical positivity regarding England, I do have a bit more to say. Although to an extent it makes sense that the film would lean in favor of England, given its content and the point of view from which the story is told, it became overbearing at times. England could do no wrong in this film, despite children dying in battle, indigenous people being humiliated and dehumanized for show, talk about slavery, and a complete disregard for the suffering of non-white and non-Protestant groups. In contrast, the first film heavily criticized England, from Mary of Guise shaming Elizabeth for sending young children to war, to Elizabeth frowning upon Walsingham’s torture methods (granted she never stopped them, but she didn’t approve as readily as she did in this film), and so on. Although England in truth did all of these things without rebuke, the film could have handled it more gracefully and came across less like propaganda, at the very least. 5/10

Loving Vincent (2017)

TW: suicide (action offscreen, death onscreen)

Sensory Warning: movement of the impressionistic paintings can be very disorienting for those with sensory processing difficulties. I had to break from watching multiple times so as not to become ill.

starring Douglas Booth, Eleanor Tomlinson, Jerome Flynn, Robert Gulaczyk

This fully hand-painted animated film follows Armand Roulin, a young man with a severe temper, on his way to deliver Vincent Van Gogh’s last letter to a living recipient. When he reaches the town where Vincent died, he begins speaking to a variety of villagers with their own stories about the artist, and their own theories about how he died. Armand tries to piece the puzzle together, wondering if the death was not a suicide as claimed, but rather something more sinister.

This film was spectacularly breathtaking. The amount of work that went into painting every scene was awe-inspiring, and definitely sets the bar high for any other films of its kind. The team of artists that created this film represented Van Gogh’s unique art style exquisitely through their loving application of oil-based paints, and truly brought to life the emotion he put into his works. I wish I hadn’t struggled so much with the constant movement, as I feel I would have been able to appreciate the film in its entirety better, but as it was I struggled to pay attention to the story because the art style consumed too much of my sensory processing capabilities. As for the story, I thought it was interesting, but I found it lacking despite the incredible artwork. Foremost, after some cursory research, I discovered that the homicide theory on which this film was based was only acknowledge by one individual, and spurned by hundreds of others. Although the film leaves the verdict open-ended, both to Roulin and to the audience, the story itself seemed to lean into the homicide theory, then completely give up on it with no resolution, so it came across as fairly noncommittal. I won’t argue for or against the theory, as I don’t know nearly enough about Van Gogh to assert an opinion, but I’m somewhat unsettled by the amount of weight it gave to it without any kind of evidentiary support, only to dump it as if the writers changed their mind themselves. The pacing was also slow for a murder mystery, which is basically what the story turned out to be. I would much have preferred the film to cover Vincent’s life, or even the days/weeks leading up to his death, instead of only featuring him in other people’s flashbacks. This kind of existential impressionism should capture the life of its creator, not the mundane views of people who didn’t understand him or even hated him. There wasn’t anything wrong with the film, per se, but I wish the writing was given as much love as the art was. 7/10

Part 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10

[top10mtechinstitutenoida]

Gear up for a Bright Future with Automobile Engineering

On the off chance that you have a characteristic interest for vehicles, arithmetic, mechanics, and hardware, Automobile Engineering is the correct branch for you. Car Engineering is a part of vehicle designing, joining components of mechanical, electrical, electronic, programming, and security designing as applied to the plan, production and activity of cruisers, autos, and trucks and their separate designing subsystems. It additionally incorporates alteration of vehicles. Assembling area manages the creation and collecting the entire pieces of vehicles. The investigation of car designing is to configuration, create, manufacture, and test vehicles or vehicle parts from the idea stage to creation stage. Creation, advancement, and assembling are the three significant capacities in this field.

B.E. Car Engineering course also offers specialization in elective fills, streamlined features, body, discharges, gadgets, ergonomics, materials, producing, motorsport, quick prototyping, vehicle, power train and walker security or inventory network the board. Such postgraduates are employed in limits, for example, Sales Officer, Professor, Associate Professor, Sr. Official/Executive, Automobile Engineer, Embedded Automotive, Software Engineer, Product Development Engineer, Design Engineer and so forth A new alumni in this field can acquire a normal compensation between INR 2 to 6 lacs in a year. Compensation can be expanded according to the exhibition and ability of the applicants.

Top Companies Offering Job Opportunities to the Automotive Professionals:

Goodbye Motors

Mahindra and Mahindra

Toyota

Honda

Passage

Eicher Motors

Escorts

Bajaj Auto Limited

Maruti Udyog Limited

Saint Motors

Honda Motorcycle and Scooter India Pvt. Ltd. (HMSI)

Top Overseas Companies Offering Lucrative Job Offers:

BMW

Audi

Renault

Portage

Volkswagen

Pay of an Automobile/Automotive Engineer

Compensation of an Automotive/Automobile Engineer ranges between INR 64,000 to 2, 00,000 every month relying upon the degree of involvement. Openings are additionally accessible with enormous Automotive goliaths related merchants like Rane Steer, Bosch, Denso, Magna, Continental, MRF, BKT, Exide, Amaron to give some examples.

Top occupation profiles offered to Automobile Engineers:

Chief and Managerial Positions

Driver Instrumentation Engineer

Senior Production Engineer

Car Designer

Car Sales Engineer

Seller Account Manager

Quality Engineer

Administration Engineer

Advertising Expert

Mechanical Design Engineer

Car Developer

Local Transport Officer

Administration Advisor and Works Manager in Dealerships

Car Technician

Administration Station proprietor

Following the Start up India thought process, after the fulfillment of the course one can settle on self-financed business, a portion of the intriguing patterns with regards to this region include:

Vehicle Showroom or Service focus proprietor

Misfortune Assessor and Surveyor

On-the-spot Cleaning and support Services

Machine establishment and conveyance accomplice

Car part fabricating

Generator Manufacturing and provider

Sun based item assembling and dissemination

Preparing Institute

Segment Designing

Business Consultants

Experts in vehicle purchase/deal

Frill merchant and some more

Vehicle Engineering: Career Prospects

This field offers broad assortment of chances for the competitors and it incorporates creation plants, car producing enterprises, administration stations, private vehicle organizations, state street transport partnerships, engine vehicle offices, insurance agencies etc.With the PC aptitudes and information in CAM (Automation), CAD (Computer Aided plan), ERP, Automobile specialists may secure position openings in PC supported businesses as Designers. Vehicle Maintenance Engineers are offered the post of general oversight of mechanics in a workshop, plant and carport. B. Tech applicants in vehicle designing with a MBA degree could go to the front line in advertising the board professions.

There are a ton of open entryways for the certified people and they can pick a profession in car industry, which prompts wonderful future. By and by, with so numerous unfamiliar car organizations, for example, Audi, Volkswagen, Renault and so forth zeroing in on India as a base for assembling vehicles, the expansion for a profession in car industry is rising rapidly.

Occupation B. Voc. in Automobile Engineering: The top schools at NCR are thinking of the courses that are Entrepreneurship situated Skill improvement courses have been started by All India Council for Technical Education (AICTE), Ministry of HRD, Government of India to advance "Make in India activity". These courses will be controlled by AICTE affirmed foundations, where separated from specialized educating, prepared assets will widely hand hold understudies and give explicit aptitudes, making them confident to start their own new businesses. Lone ranger of Vocation (B. Voc.) is acquiring significance as interest for ability based schooling is the need of great importance. The present business is searching for assets that are prepared to convey from the very beginning of joining.

Vision: The vision of these projects is to fabricate a solid association with the Automobile Industry to encourage understudy's employability and business venture through the On-the-Job Training (OJT) and advance a feeling of development, envisioning the Society's necessities and assumptions in the field of Automobile Engineering.

MISSION

To give understudies the chance to upgrade their capability and expertise.

To create application-based discovering that will make understudies work prepared by acquiring industry work insight and learning the specialized ideas involved.

To prepare understudies to take up creative undertakings in gatherings with feasible and comprehensive innovation applicable to the business and social requirements.

To enable understudies to become gifted and moral business visionaries

To give delicate abilities supporting a specific calling and comparing specialized schooling.

To guarantee sufficient information on Theory, Laboratories and active pragmatic experience.

To overcome any issues between the scholarly world and Industry.

To coordinate NSQF (National Skills Qualifications Framework) to upgrade employability of the understudies and meet industry necessities.

B. Voc. in Automobile Engineering course offers:

Components of Automobile, Electrical and Electronic Systems, Non Commercial vehicles, Materials for Automobile.

I.C. Motors, Transmission frameworks, Instruments and Equipments, Suspension and Damping Systems, Project

Business vehicles, Automotive part plan, Electric Vehicles, Engine Management standards, Universal Human Values and morals.

Autotronics, Air molding and Heating frameworks, Quality Management in vehicle Industry, Tire Technology, Environment and Ecology.

Present day vehicle Technology, Automobile Assembly Principles, Vehicle security standards, Elements of Noise vibration and Harshness control, Indian Constitution.

Vehicle adjusting, Traction and Driving Systems, Essence of Indian Traditional Knowledge, Major Project.

Furthermore, some more… …

Qualification Criteria:

B.Voc. in Automobile Engineering is a 3-year undergrad program, the qualification models is least 45% imprints in 10+2 from a presumed board or its comparable assessment.

Occupation Areas:

Administration Technician

Car Designer

Body Shop In-Charge

Administration Supervisor

Testing Manager

Deals Executive

E-Automotive Specialist

Vocation openings for car engineers don't stop just inside India. They can have a fruitful vocation in the Automobile business in western nations like USA, Germany, United Kingdom and so on They can likewise seek after professions in oriental nations like Japan, Republic of Korea which are monster major parts in vehicle businesses. Since the Automobile business is a colossal industry, there is a wide scope of chances for car engineers. The business is filling by a wide margin giving countless chances of development to the car architects to develop, and have a splendid and effective profession ahead.

[a-muse]

FVD - Week 3

The week 3 of Fundamentals of Visual Design jumped on a different bandwagon with the introduction of colour theory. There was a slight change with the faculties for our group as well. Suman da was replaced by Saurabh for our group and was joined in by Namrata. Between some interesting presentations by Shekhar da and some gripping stories narrated by Kuntal da, the entire week was a blast as we moved from sketching with pencils to interacting with colours.

The first activity was to closely understand the colour wheel as we were studying colour theory as well. We could build our colour wheels through paints and objects lying around. I moved with very straightforward colour elements in my home to minimally depicting colour wheel through objects around my house.

Poster colour bottles arranged in a colour wheel.

Scrounging for suitable objects

Colour wheel through found objects in kitchen.

Some hallucinating visuals with lights and colour wheel

Colour wheel with objects in nature (except the phone and bottle cap)

It seems to be very difficult to obtain blue colours from nature. Though there are some flowers but they were not available at my place. Through all of these scrounging through objects, I noticed myself looking through the mess into colours around me which were almost non-existent for me earlier and connecting them together further forming different parallels between the real world and colour theory. I started recognizing different primary, secondary and tertiary colours.

Blended poster colours depicting colour wheel.

I wanted to understand more about tints and shades of colours as the colour wheel that I have experimented till now only have the primary, secondary and tertiary colours and not their tints and shades.

Shades of Crimson Red in 5 steps. Poster Colour

This helped me understanding the progression of shades of a colour and how it moves into black. Next, I wanted to understand the tints as well, so I took a blue colour and painted strips of tints and shades within 5 steps.

Tints and shades of blue in 5 steps

When we started our week with colour, we were also informed about an interesting task of maintaining a colour journal where we would document our experimenting with colours and their properties. 

Let me show you some of the entries from Week 3.

A shade card for tea for different moods

The shades that I wish to see and what I get to see 

This COVID feels like a war, isn’t it?

States of mind

Experiment with acrylic colours and textures

I am really enjoying maintaining this colour diary. Not only is this a learning experience interacting with different colours  but also feels very therapeutic. Further, keeping this diary or journal is helping me document different ordeals with colours and their relating emotions for me and also helping me in understanding colour mixing, application, ratios and everything else.

We had another set of fun experiments with colour interactions in different lights. First we started off with different fabrics and how the colours change according to different times of day and different sunlight directions. The colours would range from darker to lighter and also sometimes may lose it’s entire property and start looking like a different colour altogether. 

I started with a plain cotton T-shirt, moved onto a polyester cotton blend with stripes and a woolen hoodie and finally a polyester windcheater. See for yourself. 

8:30 am:

10:30 am:

1:30 pm:

The next part was even more interesting where we were studying how different objects would look like and react in different lights. The results were fascinating. I was getting ideas for my future projects while conducting this.

Setup for the light interaction experiments. The lamp was covered with different cellophane papers of different colours.

First set was for the same clothes but in Red, Green, Yellow and Blue lights.

This seemed very quirky at first. When I heard about this the first time, I was taken aback. I have been to places which use different coloured lights and also wore the same clothes outside in different light conditions in different parts of India, in different seasons even and this was the first time, I was noticing these subtle differences and finally understood the confusion rising from the viral internet posts about the gold and pink and white and blue and whatever dresses or shoes people were so much obsessed with. 

The interaction with the different coloured lights was a different story altogether. These not just only changed how an fabric or my skin and beard looked in different colours but also changed the emanating emotions behind them. Some gave me a murderous look too, exactly how they achieve these effects to generate emotions for audience to connect, to fear or to enjoy.

I was so very much fascinated by this, I did not stop with just the fabric and the cloth. I took two things that was near to me and explored with these two objects under the same four lights.

Looks fascinating, isn’t it. Ends up opening a lot of avenues for a few movie projects or even in something in new media that I can attempt. Looking forward to working on some more projects with this. 

Alvida, Adios, Tata, Bye Bye, Hasta la Vista and Sayonara till next time.

[gibstoppingauckland]

The Way to Get the Appropriate Designer To the Home Design and Decorating Projects

Searching for an interior designer or interior designer might be overwhelming if you aren't certain which designer you require for your own extent or your own undertaking. Are you currently building, moving or renovating and want expert information? Are you really planning to market your premises and not certain just how exactly to get prepared for the very first review?

This document provides you answers to often asked questions as it pertains to home design, interior decorating, colour consulting and property design.

It's going to assist you to choosing the ideal designer for the home decorating and design endeavors and also create your personal style at residence.

You could have thought about this question when confronting a construction or renovation project. Can I want an interior designer, an interior designer, a color adviser or a interior stylist?

The solution is it is dependent upon the reach of the undertaking.

An interior designer can be a professional professional who's designing interior surroundings in accordance with your briefing. The inside designer modifies what already exists (renovation) or has a entirely new design to get a distance (new build). In cases like this the inner designer works closely with an architect also is available in at an earlier stage of the undertaking. Interior designers get the job done along with a team in designing business or in the very own.

What's the occupation of a interior decoration? An inside decoration is really a designer or adviser in a field susceptible to varies in style, notably fashion or interior decoration. An inside stylist cultivates or preserves some specific design and in the majority of cases painters are finders, keepers and collectors of all amazing items.

The inside stylist may assist you to finding your style, creating exquisite insides which can be unique and purposeful. This may be accomplished with the easiest items and doesn't need to be pricey. The one thing you ought to do is always keep your eyes open into amazing things in nature, design, design, museums, art, exhibitions, books, fabrics and traveling. There's but 1 principle: Just collect or buy items that mean something for you!

Exactly how can a color review work?

The shade appointment concentrates on developing a colour pallette for a certain space or room or the entire house depending on your briefing. A skilled colour consultant will be able to assist you with exterior and interior colour schemes.

Before designing a colour pallette foryou along with adviser must talk to you about the mood and setting you'd really like to attain on your own space. He'll reveal to you the gaps between your paint businesses and their services and products and decide on the ideal product to suit your requirements. After designing the color pallette you'll get a written recommendation for example a specification sheet and also brushouts ready for the painter to get started out.

Exactly why is it crucial that you seek out help from the designer if choosing colours?

Colour could be probably the most potent tool in regards to non verbal communicating and the design part which creates an area stand out. Colour brings individuality at a distance also it's but one of the very useful tools to perfect when finding your style.

Leatrice Eiseman, Executive Director of the Pantone Color Institute, says in her publication Pantone Guide to Communicating with Colour:"One of other applications, colour arouses and works seamlessly together with each one the senses, represents abstract theories and notions, expresses dream or wish fulfillment, recalls yet another time or set also produces a decorative or emotional reaction."

When picking a shade for a house or room it's crucial to consider the mood and feeling you may love to attain. Can it be a darkroom or saturated in sun lighting? Which direction is your space confronting? Do you reside in a tiny flat or some contemporary newly constructed house or apartment with open plan living spaces? All this should be taken into account when selecting colours to get a distance.

If you're inundated with the selection of colours available - yes, you'll find tens of thousands available on industry - how exactly will you get started finding your private colour pallette?

For some individuals it's really a longer travel, for many others it comes naturally. The absolute most significant issue is always to take a moment, open your eyes, then walk around your house and consume the colour combinations you visit. Subsequently begin collecting all of the bits that you adore. This may be anything from older ceramic, travel memorabilia, photos, art, clothes, tear sheets from magazines, fabric swatches, stationary, and a selection of stone, glass or feathers items.

And remember temperament as inspiration to get a colour pallette (exterior or interior ). If your home is close to the sea, colors of greens and blues may be employed to connect your inner with its own surroundings.

As soon as you've accumulated your entire cherished paintings in 1 area, mess with these bits, set them from colours and you'll understand a shade palette appear. This"mood board" is really a fantastic starting place for the inner designer, interior breeder or color adviser that will allow you to creating a single and personal distance, a home that reflects who you might be and also a place that you simply love coming home to.

Stylist's trick: Before you get started painting consistently purchase an evaluation shade and paint a massive sheet of cardboard or paper (just one square metre) together with your own colour. Tape it into the walls on the own room and study it for a few days. Start looking at it from daylight and artificial lighting. That is extremely vital as colours change based upon the lighting, the orientation of this room, additional colours within the place and plasma elements such as artwork and furniture such as instance.

What's the big difference between a shade and also a styling appointment?

The shade appointment concentrates on developing a colour pallette for a certain space or room or the entire house depending on your briefing. A skilled colour consultant will be able to assist you with exterior and interior colour schemes.

The design appointment concentrates on developing a particular (Your) personality at house or on answering all of your questions regarding colours, personality, Gib Stopping Auckland, art sourcing and positioning, screens of one's selections, accessories, and proportions at a place, lighting etc.. )

Again, it's essential that the designer adheres to exactly what you'd prefer to reach (briefing) and also makes certain he knew that which you would like (debriefing). Do not allow the inner designer or interior stylist talk you in to something that you do not enjoy!

How can I increase the outcome signal of my styling appointment?

Are you really planning to color, decorate or renew, however have no idea how to get started? Do you've got a lot of questions regarding colour schemes, furniture positioning, the way to produce your selections, novels or alternative cherished things? Are you really not sure if to decorate to your old accessories and furniture to animate and make a fresh appearance? Do you desire inspirations at which you can source accessories and furniture, 2nd hand bits or antiques?

If you ready your first appointment with your stylist you can get responses to all of the questions you've got. Listed below are some hints the way to improve the output signal from the styling or color appointment:

Be clear exactly what you'd enjoy the results of the appointment in order to be.

settle on which room or space you want to give attention to. Is it merely a single room or perhaps the entire home?

Prepare your self using tear-sheets out of home design magazines such as Real Living, Interior Outside, Belle or Vogue living. There are lots available on the industry therefore select the one which talks to you and get started collecting pages of all you prefer: colour accessories, accessories, furniture, room designs, carpeting, floors, wall paper, cosmetic items and all which talks with youpersonally. Should you choose so for a number weeks you'll certainly see exactly what you would like in order to discover your personal style.

ensure your breeder is listening and also explain exactly what you wish to reach together with your styling undertaking, what you'd love an area to complete for you personally and also what mood you'll really like to create on your space.

And lastly among the main matters: Do not allow the stylist talk you in to something that you do not enjoy! You've got to dwell at the space and also you want to really feel comfortable and at home! It's about creating your house along with your own touch.

Just how can I find my own personality?

The solution is as easy as this: research the world around you and love the wonder which lies within whatever you detect!

Continue to keep your eyes open and the mind stimulated! Discover and appreciate the wonder that surrounds you everyday!

A stylist's hint: always hold a small notebook and a pencil with you to be able to be able to sketch, doodle and jot down exactly what you will find.

Keep your entire findings, notes and graphics from a folder or folder and also maintain looking for atleast four to fourteen days. Afterward begin to set things by theme or colour and also you may quickly realize what your personality is. And there aren't any rules. It's about finding everything you would like!

[jamierenfrey]

Week 3a - Development: Mutant Kitty

Objective

This weeks goal was to establish a basic 2D prototype for Mutant Kitty with core mechanics and elements for users to playtest.

Goals

My goals for this weeks objective was to follow the K.I.S.S. (keep it simple stupid) method. I set a list of core elements to focus on;

Mechanic: Laser

Short Level Design

Scenes: Home, Level 1, Pause/Help, Win/Lose

GUI: Health, Enemy Defeat

Enemies: Attack Method and Movement

Animations: Walk, Run, Jump, Idle, Death

Challenges and Solutions

This week I found a multitude of problems in establishing a playtestable prototype. Although I had success in practicing basic elements in the tutorial, putting these into practice in a different games context was actually quite challenging.

Mechanic: Laser

Challenge

As effective as my laserbeam was in moving left, I found it hard to establish the correct events conditions and actions that flip it to target right.

I also found that the first instance of the laser stuck to the players eyes on first click of the attack button and I was yet to discover a way to bend the laser when player is jumping as to be seemless in design.

Solution

For a playtestable version, having the mechanic work in the slightest was my intended goal. I believe I will play with the object “Draw Line” a bit more to replace the “sprite” for the laser.

Short Level Design

Challenge

Tiling with created objects streamlined my level design approach although I struggled with exact placements. Even one pixel off from connecting elements and it was noticeable throughout playtesting. I also did not realise I had the tree objects set to “Platform” as a behaviour, so I encountered problems there, easily fixed.

One major problem I faced was invisible platforms, even when environment tile behaviours were set to not be platforms, the player would, at times, encounter an invisible platform.

Solution

To rectify the invisible platform problem, I revisited the core elements and left the top of the “grass” objects as platforms and set the “body”/”dirt” elements to be non platforms.

For the trees, I removed the platofrm behaviour and actually decided to keep trees at different Z positions so that it gave the effect of the player running through a forest.

Scenes: Home, Level 1, Pause/Help, Win/Lose

Challenge

Establishing the basic scenes for the Mutant Kitty project was simplistic enough. I found plenty of information online for event conditions to trigger different scenes. One problem I faced however was that the win/lose conditions could be met a little too easily by standing at the starting point. Combating this, I altered the laserbeam behaviours to dissapear at the end of screen, though even after applying this behaviour, it constantly reset without applying.

Solution

The win/lose conditions are a work in progress.

GUI: Health, Enemy Defeat

Challenge

From previous programming in other applications and design subjects, I knew layering was going to be critical to the flow of the game. One thing I did not anticipate would be an issue during development was that when an object was copied in the editor and pasted on screen, it added another level to the Z position in the base layer. So when I continued to playtest, I found trees glitching behind platforms and clouds following the player on screen.

The health system mechanics I had established after (yet again) mistaking the variable conditions from string to integer. After this was fixed I found that “deleting” the health object actually was more ineffective than just “hiding” the object. When translating this to the enemy defeat conditions, it did not work as well. The sprite object used for the top right of the screen was displayed at start of the level, but hiden, then when an enemy was defeated the conditions were set to “show” the sprite. Oddly, every few platests I discovered that the sprite actually displayed in many different locations on screen.

Solution

I am now checking the variable conditions with a fine tooth comb!

As for the GUI health and enemy defeat conditions to show/hide on screen, I intend to revisit the events and find the coding area that triggers the instances and potentially set them to trigger once. Health seems to work seamlessly, the enemy defeat however requires attention.

Enemies: Attack Method and Movement

Challenge

Triggering conditions for opponents seemed simple in theory, however, duplicating the players attack and replacing the condition to “upon collision” did not work as effectively as intended. I am yet to discover a way to trigger enemy projectiles before collision without it being set to randomly fire onscreen.

I also had to create a new attack as I had the laserbeam for both player and enemy, but due to collision events, when the enemy shot the laserbeam, it deleted itself because it “collided” upon fire.

Solution

I created a new object for the enemy projectile and will investigate consistentcy of attack from enemies rather than a collision condition. The animation for enemy death will also be played with as this is an element I do not wish to exclude from the game.

Animations: Walk, Run, Jump, Idle, Death

Challenge

Simplistic enough to establish animations for the player and enemy objects, however, I found it challenging to display death animations for enemies while they moved left and right then deleting the object at the end of the animation. The enemies would end up finishing their death sequence and continue moving, even if I set the object to stop first. Same issue for the player as I had that object set to return to the start of the level upon getting hurt.

Solution

The health variable conditions I may update to not reset the player at the start of the game, instead, reduce the health and only restart the level upon a lose condition, unless the player falls from platforms or in the water areas (cats hate water!).

In Closing;

The Mutant Kitty prototype is established enough to a playable standard to test current mechanics. I am interested in player feedback for what is currently presented. Although I hold no expectations of feedback, I am interested in discovering the players focal areas to better improve the challenges, mechanics and overall enjoyability of Mutant Kitty!

Sprite Acknowledgement

https://www.gameart2d.com/freebies.html

Mutant Kitty Playtest Link

https://games.gdevelop-app.com/game-8e13bf39-0cd0-4675-af72-5fc1e760b7e4/index.html

[mostlysignssomeportents]

"IBM PC Compatible": how adversarial interoperability saved PCs from monopolization

Adversarial interoperability is what happens when someone makes a new product or service that works with a dominant product or service, against the wishes of the dominant business.

Though there are examples of adversarial interoperability going back to early phonograms and even before, the computer industry has always especially relied on adversarial interoperability to keep markets competitive and innovative. This used to be especially true for personal computers.

From 1969 to 1982, IBM was locked in battle with the US Department of Justice over whether it had a monopoly over mainframe computers; but even before the DOJ dropped the suit in 1982, the computing market had moved on, with mainframes dwindling in importance and personal computers rising to take their place.

The PC revolution owes much to Intel's 8080 chip, a cheap processor that originally found a market in embedded controllers but eventually became the basis for early personal computers, often built by hobbyists. As Intel progressed to 16-bit chips like the 8086 and 8088, multiple manufacturers entered the market, creating a whole ecosystem of Intel-based personal computers.

In theory, all of these computers could run MS-DOS, the Microsoft operating system adapted from 86-DOS, which it acquired from Seattle Computer Products, but, in practice, getting MS-DOS to run on a given computer required quite a bit of tweaking, thanks to differences in controllers and other components.

When a computer company created a new system and wanted to make sure it could run MS-DOS, Microsoft would refer the manufacturer to Phoenix Software (now Phoenix Technologies), Microsoft's preferred integration partner, where a young software-hardware wizard named Tom Jennings (creator of the pioneering networked BBS software FidoNet) would work with Microsoft's MS-DOS source code to create a custom build of MS-DOS that would run on the new system.

While this worked, it meant that major software packages like Visicalc and Lotus 1-2-3 would have to release different "PC-compatible" versions, one for each manufacturer's system. All of this was cumbersome, error-prone, and expensive, and it meant, for example, that retailers would have to stock multiple, slightly different versions of each major software program (this was in the days when software was sold from physical retail locations, on floppy disks packaged in plastic bags or shrink-wrapped boxes).

All that changed in 1981, when IBM entered the PC market with its first personal computer, which quickly became the de facto standard for PC hardware. There are many reasons that IBM came to dominate the fragmented PC market: they had the name recognition ("No one ever got fired for buying IBM," as the saying went) and the manufacturing experience to produce reliable products.

Equally important was IBM's departure from its usual business practice of pursuing advantage by manufacturing entire systems, down to the subcomponents. Instead, IBM decided to go with an "open" design that incorporated the same commodity parts that the existing PC vendors were using, including MS-DOS and Intel's 8086 chip. To accompany this open hardware, IBM published exhaustive technical documentation that covered every pin on every chip, every way that programmers could interact with IBM's firmware (analogous to today's "APIs"), as well as all the non-standard specifications for its proprietary ROM chip, which included things like the addresses where IBM had stored the fonts it bundled with the system.

Once IBM's PC became the standard, rival hardware manufacturers realized that they had to create systems that were compatible with IBM's systems. The software vendors were tired of supporting a lot of idiosyncratic hardware configurations, and IT managers didn't want to have to juggle multiple versions of the software they relied on. Unless non-IBM PCs could run software optimized for IBM's systems, the market for those systems would dwindle and wither.

Phoenix had an answer. They asked Jennings to create a detailed specification that included the full suite of functions on IBM's ROMs, including the non-standard features that IBM had documented but didn’t guarantee in future versions of the ROM. Then Phoenix hired a "clean-room team" of programmers who had never written Intel code and had never interacted with an IBM PC (they were programmers who specialized in developing software for the Texas Instruments 9900 chip). These programmers turned Jennings's spec into the software for a new, IBM-PC-compatible ROM that Phoenix created and began to sell to IBM's rivals.

These rivals could now configure systems with the same commodity components that IBM used, and, thanks to Phoenix's ROMs, could also support the same version of MS-DOS and the same application programs that ran on the IBM PC.

So it was that IBM, a company that had demonstrated its expertise in cornering and dominating computing markets, was not able to monopolize the PC. Instead, dozens of manufacturers competed with it, extending the basic IBM architecture in novel and innovative ways, competing to find ways to drive down prices, and, eventually, giving us the modern computing landscape.

Phoenix's adversarial interoperability meant that IBM couldn't exclude competitors from the market, even though it had more capital, name recognition and distribution than any rival. Instead, IBM was constantly challenged and disciplined by rivals who nipped at its heels, or even pulled ahead of it.

Today, computing is dominated by a handful of players, and in many classes of devices, only one vendor is able to make compatible systems. If you want to run iPhone apps, you need to buy a device from Apple, a company that is larger and more powerful than IBM was at its peak.

Why have we not seen an adversarial interoperability incursion into these dominant players' markets? Why are there no iPhone-compatible devices that replicate Apple's APIs and run their code?

In the years since the PC wars, adversarial interoperability has been continuously eroded.

In 1986, Congress passed the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, a sweeping "anti-hacking" law that Facebook and other companies have abused to obtain massive damages based on nothing more than terms-of-service violations.

In 1998, Congress adopted the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, whose Section 1201 threatens those who bypass "access controls" for copyrighted works (including software) with both criminal and civil sanctions; this has become a go-to legal regime for threatening anyone who expands the functionality of locked devices, from cable boxes to mobile phones.

Software patents were almost unheard of in the 1980s; in recent years, the US Patent and Trademark Office's laissez-faire attitude to granting software patents has created a patent thicket around the most trivial of technological innovations.

Add to these other doctrines like "tortious interference with contract" (which lets incumbents threaten competitors whose customers use new products to get out of onerous restrictions and terms of service), and it's hard to see how a company like Phoenix could make a compatible ROM today.

Such an effort would have to contend with clickthrough agreements; encrypted software that couldn't be decompiled without risking DMCA 1201 liability; bushels of low-quality (but expensive to litigate) software patents, and other threats that would scare off investors and partners.

And things are getting worse, not better: Oracle has convinced an appeals court to ban API reimplementations, which would have stopped Phoenix's ROM project dead in its tracks.

Concentration in the tech-sector is the result of many factors, including out-of-control mergers, but as we contemplate ways to decentralize our tech world, let's not forget adversarial interoperability. Historically, adversarial interoperability has been one of the most reliable tools for fighting monopoly, and there's no reason it couldn't play that role again, if only we'd enact the legal reforms needed to clear the way for tomorrow's Phoenix Computers and Tom Jenningses.

Images below: IBM PC Technical Reference, courtesy of Tom Jennings, licensed CC0.

https://boingboing.net/2019/08/05/ibm-pc-compatible-how-adv.html

[newscitygroup]

The Revolt of the Poor

In the folklore created by commercialism to calm the masses or The Revolt of the Poor, the misconception of copyright stands apart.

It goes like this: if the rights to copyright were not specified and implemented, business owners would not have actually handled the dangers related to publishing books, taping records, and preparing multimedia items.

As a result, imaginative individuals will have suffered since they will have discovered no chance to make their works available to the general public. Eventually, it is the general public that pays the cost of piracy, goes the refrain.

However, this is factually false. In the U.S.A. there is a really minimal group of authors who really live by their pen. Just choose artists to eke out a living from their loud occupation (the majority of the rock stars who own their labels – George Michael needed to battle Sony to do simply that) and really a couple of stars come close to obtaining subsistence-level earnings from their occupation.

All these can no longer be considered a lot of innovative individuals. Required to protect their copyright rights and the interests of Big Money, Madonna, Michael Jackson, Schwarzenegger, and Grisham are business owners a minimum of as much as they are artists.

Financially and reasonably, we need to anticipate that the more expensive artwork is to produce and the narrower its market – the more highlighted its copyright rights.

Think about a publishing house.

A book that costs 50,000 DM to produce with a prospective audience of 1000 buyers (specific scholastic texts resemble this) – would need to be priced at a minimum of 100 DM to recover just the direct expenses.

If unlawfully copied (therefore diminishing the possible market as some individuals will choose to purchase the more affordable unlawful copies) – its cost would need to go up excessively to recover expenses, therefore eliminating possible purchasers.

If a book costs 10,000 DM to produce and is priced at 20 DM a copy with a prospective readership of 1,000,000 readers, the story is various. Piracy (unlawful copying) should, in this case, be quicker endured as a minimal phenomenon.

This is the theory. However, the truths are tellingly various. The less the expense of production (reduced by digital innovations) – the fiercer the fight versus piracy. The larger the marketplace – the more pressure is applied to clamp down on samizdat business owners.

Federal governments, from China to Macedonia, are presenting copyright laws (under pressure from abundant world nations) and imposing them belatedly. However, where one factory is closed onshore (as has actually held true in mainland China) – 2 grow overseas (as holds true in Hong Kong and in Bulgaria).

Yet this defies reasoning: the marketplace today is international, the expenses of production are lower (with the exception of the music and movie markets), the marketing channels more various (half of the earnings of movie studios originates from videocassette sales), the quick recouping of the financial investment essentially ensured.

Furthermore, piracy prospers in extremely bad markets in which the population would anyhow not have actually paid the legal rate. The prohibited item is inferior to the legal copy (it includes no literature, service warranties or assistance). So why should the huge producers, release homes, record business, software application business, and style homes stress?

Copyright is a reasonably brand-new concept.

In the near past, nobody thought about understanding or the fruits of imagination (art, style) as ‘patentable’, or as somebody’s ‘home’. The artist was, however, a simple channel through which magnificent grace streamed. Texts, discoveries, developments, masterpieces, and music, creates – all came from the neighborhood and could be duplicated easily. Real, the picked ones, the channels, were honored however were seldom economically rewarded.

They were commissioned to produce their masterpieces and were employed, in many cases. Just with the development of the Industrial Transformation were the embryonic precursors of copyright presented however they were still restricted to commercial styles and procedures, generally as ingrained in equipment.

The patent was born.

The more huge the marketplace, the more advanced the sales and marketing strategies, the larger the monetary stakes – the bigger loomed the concern of copyright.

It spread out from equipment to styles, procedures, books, papers, any printed matter, masterpieces and music, movies (which, at their start were ruled out art), software application, software application embedded in hardware, procedures, service techniques, and even unto hereditary product.

Copyright rights – in spite of their honorable title – are less about the intelligence and more about the home. This is Big Cash: the marketplaces in copyright exceed the overall commercial production on the planet.

The goal is to protect a monopoly on a particular work. This is a specifically serious matter in scholastic publishing where small-circulation publications do not enable their material to be priced quote or released even for non-commercial functions. The monopolists of understanding and intellectual items can not permit competitors throughout the world – since theirs is a world market. A pirate in Skopje remains in direct competitors with Expense Gates.

When he offers a pirated Microsoft item – he is denying Microsoft not just of its earnings, however, if a customer (= future earnings), of its monopolistic status (low-cost copies can be smuggled into other markets), and of its competition-deterring image (a significant monopoly protecting property).

This is a risk that Microsoft can not endure. Thus its efforts to remove piracy – effective in China and an utter failure in legally-relaxed Russia.

However, what Microsoft stops working to comprehend is that the issue lies with its rates policy – not with the pirates. When confronted with a worldwide market, a business can embrace one of two policies: either to change the rate of its items to a world average of buying power – or to utilize discretionary differential rates (as a pharmaceutical business is required to do in Brazil and South Africa).

A Macedonian with typical month-to-month earnings of 160 USD plainly can not pay for to purchase the Encyclopaedia Encarta Deluxe. In America, 50 USD is the earnings produced in 4 hours of a typical task. In Macedonian terms, for that reason, the Encarta is 20 times more costly. Either the cost ought to be decreased in the Macedonian market – or a typical world cost must be repaired which will show a typical international buying power.

Something needs to be done about it, not just from the financial perspective. Intellectual items are extremely flexible and really price-sensitive. Lower rates will be more than made up for by a much greater sales volume. There is no other method to discuss the pirate markets: seemingly, at the ideal cost, a lot of individuals want to purchase these items. High costs are an implicit compromise preferring little, elite, choose, abundant world clients.

This raises an ethical problem: are the kids of Macedonia less worthwhile of education and access to the most recent in human understanding and development?

A couple of advancements threaten the future of copyright rights.

One is the Web. Academics, fed up with the monopolistic practices of expert publications – currently released online in huge numbers. I released a couple of books on the Internet and they can be easily downloaded by anybody who has a modem or a computer system. The complete text of electronic publications, trade journals, signboards, expert publications, and countless books is offered online. Hackers even made websites readily available from which it is possible to download entire software applications and multimedia items.

It is low-cost and really simple to release on the Internet, the barriers to entry are essentially nil. Websites are hosted free of charge, and authoring and publishing software application tools are integrated into a lot of word processing programs and web browser applications. As the Web gets more outstanding noise and video abilities it will continue to threaten the monopoly of the record business, the movie studios and so on.

2nd advancement is likewise technological. Oft-vindicated Moore’s law forecasts the doubling of computer system memory capability every 18 months. However, memory is only one element of calculating power. Another is the fast synchronized bear down all technological fronts.

Miniaturization and concurrent empowerment by software application tools have actually made it possible for people to replicate much bigger scale companies effectively. A bachelor, sitting at home with 5000 USD worth of devices can totally take on the very best items of the very best printing homes anywhere. CD-ROMs can be composed on, marked and copied in your home.

A total music studio with the most recent in digital innovation has actually been condensed to the measurements of a single chip. This will result in individual publishing, individual music recording, and the digitization of plastic art.

This is only one side of the story regarding The Revolt of the Poor

The relative benefit of the copyright corporation does not consist solely in its technological expertise. Rather it depends on its huge swimming pool of capital, its marketing influence, market positioning, sales company, and circulation network.

Nowadays, anybody can print an aesthetically outstanding book, utilizing those low-cost devices. However, in an age of details excess, it is the marketing, the media project, the circulation, and the sales that identify the financial result.

This benefit is likewise being deteriorated.

Initially, there is a mental shift, a response to the commercialization of intelligence and spirit. Innovative individuals are driven away by what they consider an oligarchic facility of institutionalized, lowest common denominator art and they are resisting.

Second of all, the Web is a substantial (200 million individuals), a really cosmopolitan market, with its own marketing channels easily readily available to all. Even by default, with a minimum financial investment, the possibility of being seen by remarkably great deals of customers is high.

I released one book the standard method – and another on the Internet. In 50 months, I have actually gotten 6500 written reactions concerning my electronic book. Well over 500,000 individuals read it (my Link Exchange meter signed up c. 2,000,000 impressions because of November 1998). It is a book (in psychopathology) – and 500,000 readers is a lot for this type of publication. I am so pleased that I am unsure that I will ever think about a conventional publisher once again. Certainly, my last book was released in the very same method.

The death of copyright has actually recently ended up being perfectly clear. The old copyright markets are combating tooth and nail to maintain their monopolies (patents, hallmarks, copyright) and their expense benefits in production and marketing.

However, they are confronted with 3 inexorable procedures which are most likely to render their efforts vain:

The Paper Product packaging

Print papers provide a package of low-cost material funded by marketing. To put it simply, the marketers spend on material development and generation and the reader has no choice however be exposed to spot announcements as she or he studies the material.

This design – embraced earlier by radio and tv – guidelines the web now and will rule the cordless web in the future. The material will be provided devoid of all budgeting charges. The customer will pay by supplying his individual information (market information, usage patterns, and choices and so on) and by being exposed to marketing. Subscription-based designs are bound to stop working.

Hence, content developers will benefit just by sharing in the marketing cake. They will discover it progressively tough to carry out the old designs of royalties spent to gain access to or of ownership of copyright.

Disintermediation

A great deal of ink has actually been spilled concerning this essential pattern. The elimination of layers of brokering and intermediation – generally on the production and marketing levels – is a historical advancement (though the extension of a long term pattern).

Think about music for example. Streaming audio on the internet or downloadable MP3 files will render the CD outdated. The web likewise supplies a location for the marketing of specific niche items and lowers the barriers to entry formerly enforced by the requirement to participate in expensive marketing (” branding”) projects and making activities.

This pattern is likewise most likely to bring back the balance in between the artist and the business exploiters of his item. The real meaning of “artist” will broaden to consist of all imaginative individuals. One will look for to differentiate oneself, to “brand name” oneself and to auction off one’s services, concepts, items, styles, experience, and so on. When craftsmen ruled the financial scene, this is a return to pre-industrial times. Work stability will work and disappear movement will increase in a landscape of moving obligations, headhunting, remote cooperation, and comparable labor market patterns.

Market Fragmentation

In a fragmented market with a myriad of equally special market-specific niches, customer choices, and marketing and sales channels – economies of scale in production and circulation are useless. Narrowcasting changes broadcasting, mass modification changes mass production, a network of moving associations changes the stiff owned-branch system. The decentralized, intrapreneurship-based corporation is a late reaction to these patterns.

The mega-corporation of the future and The Revolt of the Poor is most likely to function as a cumulative of start-ups than as a uniform, consistent (and, to conspiracy theorists, ominous) juggernaut it once was.

The post The Revolt of the Poor appeared first on News City Group.

from News City Group http://newscitygroup.com/the-revolt-of-the-poor/981648/

[hollowedrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, ROSE! — You’ve been accepted for the role of Emmeline Vance. Not only was your application entirely true to their character, but you made them your own and even threw in a few surprises for me. Emmeline being there when their mother was taken is a great addition, and I think explains a bit about who they are now. I also loved how you explored their empathy, which as you said, may not be a trait others would use to describe them, but nevertheless is completely present in who they are.

Thank you so much for applying. Please create your account and send in the link, track the right tags, and follow everyone on the follow list. Welcome to Hollowed Souls!

ooc.

name: rose

age: 21

preferred pronouns: she/her and they/them are both good!

timezone: est

activity: I’m currently only working part time over the summer so I’ll be around pretty often- I’ll definitely be around to lurk on the dash/chat at some point every day, and will do replies as soon as I can, likely within 1-2 days depending on how many threads I have going etc

how do you feel about your character dying?: ouch. But, in all seriousness, death is a grim reality of war, and Emmeline is certainly prepared to die if it means taking some death eaters down with them. Also I’m always down for some angst

anything else?: nope nope, just a congratulations on running what looks like a really lovely rp and a thanks for reading this :)

character details.

full name: Emmeline Vance

date of birth: 25th August, 1956

former hogwarts house: Slytherin

sexuality: pansexual, but with a slight preference for women

gender/pronouns: Non-binary, they/them. Emmeline’s relationship with gender is a long and complicated one. They are their parent’s first and only child, and considering the pressure of their high social status to continue the family line and name, Em being, in the eyes of their parents, a baby girl, tempered the joy of their child’s arrival. They reassured themselves that there were other Vances out there, and little Emmeline would in time be married off and at the very least perpetuate their good, pure, blood. The lingering sense that they had somehow failed their parents straight out of the womb complicated Em’s relationship with gender from a young age, but when they eventually began openly identifying as non-binary it was a decision made solely and decisively for themself.

Em never really felt particularly like a girl, but they also weren’t sure what else they could be, sheltered as they were as a child- not from horror and darkness but from anything challenging the status quo. They didn’t discover that they could be something other than a girl or a boy until part way through Hogwarts, and didn’t start introducing themself with a mention of their pronouns until the day that they packed the best of nineteen years into a single suitcase and marched into the Ministry of Magic and got themself a job. In a way they were seeking control through the change, asserting a part of themself that their father had never known and therefore leaving him in the past.

face claim change: I’m very happy with Jessica Henwick!

more.

i. personality

Paranoid: Em has been looking over their shoulder since their mother was kidnapped when they were a child, and has been looking over their shoulder in their own home since it sunk in that their father might value some things over them and their safety. Em has been weaving a net of protective charms around wherever they happen to be sleeping since they were seventeen, and the shield has only grown in complexity over time. When they followed the Order to Godric’s Hollow, Em sought out a small and defensible cottage with no immediate neighbors. Flanked by crumbling and abandoned houses, Em feels safer alone, especially at night. Emmeline’s paranoia is rooted in trauma, and in many ways is practical- they live in a world at war, after all, and there are plenty of people out there who would like to kill them, but it is also a definite weakness of theirs. It drives them to seclude themself, which doesn’t do much to inspire confidence in the rest of the Order, and has meant that they’ve never really managed to have a notable romantic relationship with another person. The idea of trusting someone else enough to let them behind their very literal shields seems incomprehensible, and yet Em sometimes finds themself almost longing for companionship. But they’ve been lonely for a very, very long time. It’s just the way life is.

Obsessive: Whether it’s their current project in dismantling a particularly nasty curse or their quest for vengeance, Emmeline throws themself into their work with everything they have. It’s what made them the best cursebreaker in the Ministry, what brought the Order before them, what keeps them sane. Em never stops. They have scrolls of parchment  with lists of every object they can remember their father ever cursing, with every bit of information they can remember about the curse scrawled below in small, tight letters. The list is crowned by their father’s most beautifully monstrous curse, and Em will not rest until they eradicate them all. As it stands, too few have a line through them. When they read, they read something useful, something that might connect two dots somewhere, and everything else they do is earnestly purposeful. Idleness is dangerous. Of course, their obsessiveness also means that they have trouble letting anything go, pursuing problems with a dogged tenacity even if the argument is over and done with, or the curse is already broken.

Intelligent: It was their brain that allowed Emmeline to carve out a place for themself in relative safety eventually, their intellect and ability which allowed them to escape from the world of the death eaters. They are a phenomenal cursebreaker, and have accumulated a vast understanding of magical theory and runes as a result. Em is a well of knowledge, all of which they’ve offered unselfishly to the Order. They much prefer when their help draws from their knowledge as opposed to their memories, but they’ll recount either if it might further the cause. Their intelligence spans beyond just the academic, however. Em is witty, with a quick sort of gallows humor that comes accompanied by a quiet smile.

Empathetic: Hardly anyone would list empathy as one of Emmeline Vance’s obvious character traits. They were quiet, and clever, oddly reserved, a little bit blunt, bitter. They were fierce and bold and decisive, ready to defend their ideas with rapid fire arguments and explanations, delivered in a tone that practically dared to be disagreed with. No one would think to call Emmeline Vance empathetic because there was danger in showing anyone anything soft, and if Em knew anything it was how to protect themself. And yet, Em had never quite had the hardness it seemed everyone else in their pureblood circles possessed, that willingness to let atrocities happen, or participate in them personally, just to advance their power. Em listened at the door as Voldemort talked to their father, and all they could think of was the people behind the hissed mudbloods and muggles, the blood behind the sneer in squibs. Their doubt in Voldemort’s cause grew from empathy, and that remained the core of their resistance even after the empathy was joined by pain and a burning drive for vengeance. Emmeline is a deeply empathetic person, but that’s not anything anyone else needs to know.

ii. the story so far

Emmeline was seven when their mother was kidnapped. Just young enough that no one had told them anything, just old enough that they remembered everything. It was common knowledge by the time they went to Hogwarts, already steely-eyed at eleven, that Emmeline Vance’s mother had been gruesomely murdered because their father hadn’t paid her ransom, but very few knew that Em had been there when it happened. They’d been out walking in a park, quiet and secluded, and Em had chased a group of pixies that had flown off with their stuffed hippogriff. They reemerged from a shrub, disheveled but victorious, just in time to see the curse hit their mother’s back and the men whisk her away with the sickening pop of side-along apparition. And that was the last time they saw their mother.

When the people started to come, knocking on the door and fawning over Em with pitying politeness before pulling out a wicked looking knife, or a jewel encrusted bracelet, Emmeline had dutifully let them in, and smiled at their compliments, and watched with rapt attention as their father twisted the objects’ essences into something dark and malignant and clever. They never saw the repercussions of their father’s creations, only the mastery and intellect that went into the birth of the things, benign on the worktable. As much as Em hates to think of their father still out there somewhere drawing breath, they never learned so much in so short a time as in those years before Hogwarts. And they never expected, then, that they were learning exactly how to pluck apart the intricate tangle of those same curses while watching their father braid them into being.

And then they’d gone to Hogwarts, and their destiny was drawn out before them in permanent ink, clear as anything. They were sorted into Slytherin, and they were clever and good at their classes, and they accidentally killed a plant in herbology but shone in ancient runes. And behind all the routine of Hogwarts, were everything was meant to be tinted by optimism and hope, truths Emmeline knew intimately waited, oozing a darkness so black it was almost red.

They were dragged out of their bed at seventeen, woken by hands and heavy breathing and Emmeline had struggled and screamed, thrashing uselessly as the lingering effects of deep sleep battled with a fierce rush of adrenaline. Em still dreams of that night, sometimes, waking up nauseated by terror. Mercifully, their dreams rarely make it all the way to their father’s desk. It’s worse when the night conjures up the way their father had looked down with hollow eyes before dripping fire down their arm.

Hogwarts had lost it’s luster after that summer. Emmeline had spent the remaining month at their father’s home sleepless and harried by seemingly random experiments on the mark that stood starkly on their forearm, twisting something in their heart whenever they caught a glimpse of it. They had taken it quietly, spending hours being poked and prodded, or consumed by pain when Voldemort deigned to check in on his prototype and pressed his finger into the pictorial curse. There had been no other choice. They were barely of age, they had nowhere to go.  

Those, it turned out, were some of Emmeline’s darkest days, and nothing was more demoralizing than realizing that there was no safe place for them to run. Nearly everyone they knew was, if not explicitly aligned with Voldemort, then something of an implicit supporter, and anyone else they could plead for help from (with low chances of success, marked as they were) would gain a target on their backs too. Their only escape would be by their own hands, and their only respite could be through their own power. The Ministry, when Em eventually found themself there armed with a suitcase, their wand, and a life full of curses, was a means to an end.

Freedom was perhaps too strong a word, but Voldemort never came knocking, and their father didn’t send any owls. Em waited for them anyway, and threw themself into their work with everything they had, finding a sort of catharsis in breaking curses while somewhere out there their father was making them. The pay allowed them to scrape by, and Em wasn’t happy, but then again they didn’t think that happy was something they could be, anymore.

By the time Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody asked for their first favor, Em had carved out a space for themself in the Ministry’s curse breaking department, but the running was taking it’s toll. The knowing was eating at them. They were gone, had slipped out from under Voldemort’s thumb, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t some other unlucky kid wrapped up in things too big for them. Em had escaped, but there were still terrible men out there capable of doing terrible things, damn the consequences. Emmeline was no hero, but fuck men who thought that the world was theirs to ruin, everyone else just game pieces, experiments, and target practice. When Shacklebolt and Moody’s favors grew into an invitation into something bigger, Em had felt some open wound within them close, two puzzle pieces locking together. The Order might need Em’s skills, but Em needs the Order just as much.

Was it any wonder, then, that they threw themself into their work for the Order with a sort of abandon that would be called reckless were they not so analytical? Em was among the first in the Order’s ranks, but four years on, they’re still haunted by their past. Darkness clings, lurking while they dismantle a curse by thinking of how their father would build it, bubbling up when they let a curse fly and feel sickeningly pleased by the way the robed bodies hit the floor.

iii. present day

Slotting the detritus of their life into place in the smallest cottage left standing in the bit of Godric’s Hollow the Order had carved out as their new home had taken a pitiful ten minutes. Em had resolutely focused on the efficiency created by the limiting of their belongings rather than the faint hint of regret that they had so little to show for their twenty-six hard fought years. Living out of a suitcase had served them well in that earth-shattering year (though they’d all been earth-shattering to varying degrees for too long now), what felt like decades ago, and it would, they had told themself, serve them well now. They didn’t need the luxuries that had been left behind in the scrambling chaos of the aftermath of 1981. There had been books they’d accumulated once they’d stopped hopping from flat to shitty flat every month like clockwork, criss-crossing the area in and around London, covering their tracks as if they couldn’t be cornered and offed somewhere in the bowels of the Ministry any time they went into work. Books, and records, and stupid nick-nacks. Gone now, abandoned as they downsized back to one suitcase almost on reflex. They’d fled once, now they were just retracing their steps.

Em can’t fault the Order for running. It would be hypocritical, if nothing else, but also with their ranks depleted and those who remain rocked by shock and grief, to do anything but hide for the time being could very well end in yet another blood bath. But at the same time, Em itches to be back on the front lines, capitalizing on the fact that Voldemort’s side suffered losses too. Sitting on their hands is all well and good, but Em isn’t convinced they’ll be able to lick their wounds for much longer.

Chittock’s broadcast would’ve left them with a smug smile, a silent told you so, if it weren’t for the fact that Em was well aware there were plenty who would hear the warning that not everyone was to be trusted and look at them, a pureblood and a Slytherin with a mark on their arm, damning them to darkness. The war is inescapable, as far as Em is concerned. At least it is for them. They’ll keep fighting until they die or there’s no more fighting to be done.

[ajeevan]

10/18/19

5:05 AM

History exam today. Don't know shit. Gonna be a fail. Well I can get back on top with the next exam.

I sent out everything for the Cambridge exam. Money, application etc. Now I just need to wait for the confirmation and the details.

Also need a referee for the school application. Asked one of my teachers and he said he'd do it.

So now I just need to know if my grades are enough. Still no word from Escape Studios.

Also have to pass the Cambridge exam. I can't rest until they reply with the details. Deadline is today. I sent everything they asked yesterday.

Also we have a new art class project. It's actually a good one since I can use Blender for it.

Have to start those 3 drawings for my portfolio as well.

Also signed up for the first aid course. Need it for the theory exam. Been studying for it non stop.

It's on November 1st and 2nd. After I have done the first aid course I can sign up for the theory exam.

A lot of stuff going on right now. Add to that the presentations I have coming up. One on Monday. Did a tiny bit of research last night.

I need to pass the Cambridge exam. Can't fail. I can retake the exam but if I do I can forget starting the school in September. I mean I could still apply but they won't have to look at my application.

So let's see we pass. Gotta do some more research on it as well. Have 1 lesson per week for that stuff to practice. Need more. Gotta study on my own with stuff online. Do as much research as possible. Gathered a lot of information about the theory exam and stuff from other people at school. Getting a lot of information. Being prepared.

4h of work today. Work tomorrow. Work on Sunday.

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @Parabitri!

This idea turned out to be far more angsty than anything I usually write but it insisted on being written. I love the way Magnus and Alec always find their way back to each other, no matter what universe you put them into.

This is their Hallmark-style Christmas Story - I hope you enjoy it!

Read on AO3

******

This Christmas

Chapter 1

I remember,

I wish I could forget

What you did last December

You left my heart a mess.

- Ariana Grande (& George Michael), Last Christmas

~ The Present: 22nd December 2018 ~

“Are you sure Alec won’t mind?” Magnus asked for what had to be the fourth time that morning as he followed Izzy inside the apartment she and Alec shared.

“When has Alec ever said no to you?” Izzy threw over her shoulder with a wink as she opened Alec’s bedroom door and sauntered in.

“Well, there was that whole morning after the Yule Ball fiasco,” Magnus muttered to himself, dragging his feet as he followed Izzy.

“Besides,” Izzy said as she flopped down on Alec’s bed apparently oblivious to Magnus’ dark comments, “You and I both know, Alec’s the only person who has an early enough edition of Gray’s Anatomy to feature the illustrations you need.”

“They’re too valuable for any libraries to stock before about the 18th edition,” Magnus agreed with a sigh as he approached Alec’s bookshelves brushing his fingers lightly over the soft leather spine, tracing the gilded letters which identified it as a hallowed second edition.

“You said you’ve tried every other option, Magnus, and your essay is due in tonight. It’s not like you can just call and ask him. Even if by some miracle he isn’t still in the remote mountain villages in Timor-Leste then he’ll be in transit. You know as well as I do that any time he gets funded flights it means he’s on a stopping all stations round the world tour of obscure airports. Even if you managed to get a message to him, there’s no guarantee he’d be able to get an answer back in time.”

“I know,” Magnus sighed easing the book gently out from between its neighbours and cradling it close to his chest. He wanted Alec home but he also half-dreaded the idea that the tension that had grown like a wedge between them might still be there. “Thank you, Isabelle. I guess I’d better go finish my essay. You’ll let me know if you hear from him?”

“Of course! Hopefully this time he’ll remember to let us know before he boards the last plane so we can meet him at the airport, I know Max is dying to use the latest sign he’s made.”

Magnus laughed, thinking of Max’s ever-expanding stack of ‘Welcome Home Alec’ signs. At this point, they’d need to bring everyone they knew in order to hold up even half of them.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

[Throughout human history there have been many iterations of the symbol which represents the human heart. The first non-medical European illustration of the heart is thought to be a drawing accompanying the medieval French poem Le Roman De La Poire circa 1255 however it was not until the early 1500s that the familiar shape made its appearance...

...but why does this symbol bear so little resemblance to the human anatomy it represents? There are plenty of theories, the most prominent one being that most of our ‘knowledge’ of human anatomy in the 13th and 14th centuries was based on animal biology, in particular reptiles, which much more closely resemble the familiar scalloped shape of the heart icon. The ability of early physicians to view or study the human body was fiercely regulated and controlled - with many unable to view a single dissection let alone partake in the kind of labs that are a standard part of modern medical tuition. As such, Henry Gray’s seminal work Gray’s Anatomy, first published in 1858, was a turning point in the depiction of the human heart…]

Magnus' fingers stilled on his keyboard as he glanced again at the book he’d brought back to his apartment almost four hours earlier. It was ridiculous but he still hadn’t opened it. The thing was, he hadn’t told Izzy the whole truth. Yes, this essay was for his History of Medicine subject and accounted for almost a third of his grade but it was also final piece of his application to join Médecins Sans Frontières’ new project, working in the new hospital Alec had spent the past year helping local engineers design and build. Alec would be going back for another whole year to support the development of sustainable water supply for the school and the rest of the village. Following your best friend halfway around the world was madness, especially when things had never been quite the same between them since last year’s Yule Ball.

~ Morning After the Yule Balle: 19th December 2017 ~

Magnus came to slowly, groaning as he peeled gritty eyes open just long enough to take in the couch and apartment around him before squeezing them shut again. It wasn’t the first time since becoming friends with the Lightwoods three years earlier that he’d woken up on their sofa but the blinding headache was new. So was the fact that he couldn’t for the life of him remember how he’d gotten back here. He barely remembered any of the Yule Ball. Burying his head further in the soft pillows Magnus vowed never to mix first-generation antihistamines and alcohol again.  

“Breakfast?”

Magnus’ eyes snapped open his lips curling at the corners as he took in the sight of Alec setting a breakfast tray on the coffee table beside him. The man really was an angel sometimes.

“I figured you’d need something to help wash down the aspirin,” Alec said, smiling back as he reached over and placed two pills on Magnus’ palm, following it with a glass of water.

“My hero,” Magnus said, downing the tablets and finally tearing his eyes from Alec and focusing on the food in front of him. “You made me blueberry pancakes, Alexander? That’s not exactly standard hangover fare. If you were anyone else I’d think you were trying to seduce me with your culinary skills.”

Magnus grinned at the way Alec’s cheeks heated at the suggestion and he became suddenly fascinated with his boots. Whatever the cause, Magnus wasn’t complaining - in fact, he almost moaned as he took that first blissful bite of pancake. Alec really would make an excellent husband to someone one of these days. Too bad there wasn’t any handy mistletoe or he might...Magnus’ thoughts ground to a sudden halt as he suddenly remembered kissing someone under the mistletoe last night at the ball. It hadn’t been a typical crappy holiday season hook-up either, it had been incredible. He found himself describing it to Alec as he ate: the way her lips had felt against his, passionate and wild yet somehow also tender as if she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to devour Magnus or worship him. The way her fingers had tightened in his hair, tugging roughly to adjust the angle of his head, deepening the kiss, only for those same clever fingers to send shivers of pure pleasure as they massaged away any last traces of pain. The worst part was, despite remembering every tiny detail of the kiss, he had no memory of the person who’d done the kissing.

“Please Alec, you were there last night you have to help me find her!” Magnus said, looking up beseechingly at his best friend only to realise something was wrong.

At some point during his monologue, the blushing, solicitous angel who’d made him breakfast had been replaced by a stone statue.

“You remember the kiss but don’t remember the-the-the person, at all?” Alec asked harshly his fists clenching at his sides.

Magnus flinched, feeling suddenly ashamed even though he didn’t know why it was such a big deal to Alec if Magnus’ memory had decided to defy logic. Before he’d had a chance to ask, Alec had turned away, his shoulders tense as he’d gathered up the remnants of Magnus’ now cold breakfast.

Tray in hand he’d barely looked at Magnus as he’d apologised, “I can’t do this, Magnus. I-I-I thought -” Alec sighed sounding frustrated but resigned. “I’ve got that application for Engineers Without Borders to finish.”

Magnus tried to get up and follow him into the kitchen but the world still spun horribly when he attempted to stand and he was forced to sit again so he didn’t fall down. The last thing he needed was for an already grumpy Alec to have to bandage his head when he split it open on the sharp corner of his coffee table. Impatiently, he waited for Alec to reappear, which took considerably longer than Magnus had expected.

When at least he came out he headed straight for the door his bag already slung over his shoulder giving every appearance of intending to leave without another word.

“Alec?” Magnus called out after him, wishing his head would stop pounding long enough for him to figure out whatever this was.

Alec turned, his hand resting on the door handle still refusing to meet Magnus’ eyes. “I have to go. Feel free to stay as long as you need.” And then he walked out, closing the door firmly behind him.

Magnus had waited, half expecting at any moment that his best friend would come back and tell him what exactly he’d said that upset him so much. After over an hour, Magnus had to accept the unwelcome fact that Alec wasn’t coming back. He wasn’t answering any of Magnus’ messages either. He knew he was being selfish, knew how important that application was to Alec even though the thought of them being on opposite sides of the globe sounded miserable to Magnus all of a sudden. It would be the first time in almost three years since Izzy and Magnus had met on their first day of med school that they’d have to go more than a few weeks without seeing one another. At present, barely a day went past that they didn’t speak, one way or another, whether it was IM, in person or notes passed via Izzy.

Despite Alec’s continued refusal to discuss anything about the Yule Ball, Magnus had kept looking - amazed to discover that despite there having been hundreds of people at the ball, somehow no one had seen Magnus spending time with any women other than Dot, Cat and Izzy and he was absolutely certain it hadn’t been any of them. He’d even tried to convince the photographer to go through their shots from last night only to discover to that the man was crazy enough to still be using film and hadn’t had time to get the negatives developed yet. Rolling his eyes at the pretentiousness of art students in general, Magnus had hunted on in vain.

~ The Present: 22nd December 2018 ~

Magnus sighed, running his fingers over the soft leather cover of Gray’s Anatomy. He could still remember the first time Alec had shown it to him. It had been a gift from his grandfather on his mother’s side, the same one that was responsible for Alec’s middle name being ‘Gideon’. He’d apparently been convinced, despite Alec’s complete lack of interest in medicine, that book that had been in their family for generations would inspire Alec to become the next doctor in the family. The meticulous technical drawings the book was famous had inspired him just not to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps. He’d taken his love of the book’s illustrations and developed a fascination for cartography, drafting and surveying, finally settling on a career in engineering. Izzy had told Magnus that Alec had offered her the book when she’d first set her heart on doing medicine but she’d knew she’d never love it the way Alec did. She wanted the modern textbooks, the ones filled with gory colour photographs of real bodies, not the elegant etchings done over a hundred and fifty years earlier.

Magnus, by contrast, had happily indulged Alec’s passion and they’d spent hours pouring through the book together over the years every time Magnus had happened to need to reference one or other of the illustrations as he learnt about the body’s various structures and systems. As much as he’d adored it when Alec bought him a modern copy of Gray’s Anatomy for his birthday he always defaulted back to Alec’s copy with its incredible single-colour woodcut illustrations whenever he could. The text might mostly have become redundant has as medical knowledge changed fundamentally and rapidly over the past century but the illustrations were as important now as they’d ever been.  

He missed Alec. Magnus hadn’t realised how much he’d relied on his presence until his absence left a gaping hole in his life. It’s been almost a year and Alec is still the first person he wants to tell whenever anything happens. He might finally have stopped getting his phone out and staring out compose texts he can’t send but it still aches everytime he remembers Alec’s sat-phone is for emergencies only. Going from talking every day to exchanging infrequent emails had felt worse than some of his breakups. Then again, for the last few years, he’s always had Alec there helping him pick up the pieces whenever a relationship inevitably failed. He’d always scoffed at the adage ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ but it’s been 355 days since Alec left and he’s sitting at his desk hours before an important assignment is due incapable of completing it because he doesn’t want to open a book that would remind him too much of the man he wants, more than anything else, this Christmas. Too bad he felt certain Alec didn’t feel the same way about him.

Sighing, Magnus opened the cover and scanned the index of illustrations for the one he was looking for. There, under the heading ‘Heart’, the illustration he’d looked everywhere for: ‘Circulation of Blood in an Adult’ directing him to page six hundred and twenty-nine. Picking up the tome Magnus started at the middle and skimmed gently through the pages, slowing when he finally reached the six-hundreds to turn each individual page so as not to miss it. Magnus nearly dropped the book in surprise when he turned the final page and a colour photograph slides out onto the desk.

A single glance is enough to make him forget Gray’s Anatomy, forget the essay he has only hours left to finish and the application he needs to ace. On the desk in front of him is a photograph from last year’s Yule Ball. A photo of him and Alec wrapped tightly in one another’s arms, kissing under the mistletoe.

Chapter 2

I confess,

I loved you more than I let on but you weren’t ready for it and I wasn’t going to pour myself into hands that couldn’t hold me

- Lauren Eden, Of Yesteryear

~ The Present: 22nd December 2018 ~

Having seen the photo, Magnus wonders how he could possibly have forgotten. He’s spent an entire year comparing every kiss he shared to this one, like Prince Charming with his stupid glass slipper, finding them woefully disappointing by contrast. The thing was, with the exception of giants like Alec, he was tall so it hadn’t occurred to him why the angle always felt off - no matter what he tried. God, he was such an idiot! How could he have ignored what was right in front of him all this time? And why hadn’t Alec said something? But as soon as that thought occurred to him, he knew exactly why.

Who in their right mind would confess when the object of their affection not only didn’t remember them but had also somehow misgendered them in the process. Magnus felt physically ill as their conversation the next morning replayed in his head with full 5.1 surround sound, complete with high definition technicolour images of Alec’s transformation from breakfast baring angel to the stony-faced statue he’d been by the time he left the apartment. The fact Alec had hidden the photo here, in his most treasured book under the heading ‘Heart’ made the tears that had welled up unnoticed spill out over his cheeks.

With shaking fingers Magnus picked the photo up off the desk, the knife in his heart twisting as he realised they were both smiling as they kissed. Steeling himself, he flipped the photo drawing in a sharp breath as he saw the inscription in Alec’s familiar all-caps handwriting and in smaller text printed directly onto the photo, the photographer's details.

‘A NIGHT TO REMEMBER’ MAGNUS BANE & ALEC LIGHTWOOD YULE BALL 18TH DEC 2017

PHOTOGRAPHER: J. GHAMSARI  - EDITION: 1/1 - PRINTED: 24TH DEC 2017

He’d thought nothing could make this situation worse, but one glance at the date the photo had been printed made Magnus want the ground to open beneath his feet to transport him straight to hell. Alec had tried to tell him and Magnus had unintentionally broken his heart a second time instead. By the time Magnus had realised his mistake, Alec had already left the country.

~ December 24th, 2017 ~

Magnus groaned when he heard the doorbell, it would probably be carollers but as the only person home the night before Christmas Magnus had promised his housemates he wouldn’t let any last minute parcels go unsigned for. Snatching his shirt up from where it lay discarded beside the sofa and buttoning it haphazardly Magnus made his way down the long passage to the front door, stunned to see it was Alec standing on the sill, a thick manilla envelope clasped in one hand.

“Alec, what are you doing here? I thought you would have gone back home for what’s left of the holidays,” Magnus said noticing the way Alec’s eyes lingered on his exposed chest a beat longer than they usually would before darting away.

“It’s - uh, it’s about last week,” Alec paused, threading his fingers roughly through his hair in that familiar tell of mental agitation. “Look, you’ve got every reason to be mad at me. The next morning, after the Yule Ball - I know I should have-”

“Allowed me to drag you halfway ‘round NYU on a wild goose chase when neither of us had any idea who we were looking for?” Magnus interrupted smoothly, laughing softly. “I should never have asked, Alec, I know how important getting that internship application in was to you. Besides, it doesn’t matter now anyway.”

“It doesn’t?” Alec asked roughly, his gaze piercing as he froze in place.

“Surely you know me better than to think I’d let it rest until I found out, Alexander?”

“You - you’ve remembered?” Alec asked, looking suddenly paler.

“Not exactly. But Camille - you remember her from the presentation night for the Medical Prize, don’t you? She found out I was looking for her and admitted she’d been my mysterious stranger all along. Apparently, my crush wasn’t so unrequited after all. So you see, it’s all worked out. She’s coming around later tonight if you wanted to stay and meet her?”

“No.”

Magnus’ head snapped back, surprised by the vehemence in that single word but before he had a chance to do more than raise an eyebrow, Alec had continued.

“I mean, I’d be interrupting your evening plans. I should let you -” Alec paused again, his teeth sinking into his lip almost hard enough to draw blood. “I have to go. Merry Christmas, Magnus.”

“Wait, Alec!” Magnus called out, hating this sudden chill between them as Alec turned away. “Surely you didn’t just come here to apologise. You should stay, have a drink with me. It is Christmas after all.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Well, can you at least tell me when we’re catching up next?” Magnus asked, suddenly feeling the need to make sure he hadn’t somehow irrevocably ruined the friendship without even realising it. “I know you had planned to spend Christmas and New Year's Eve with your family but seeing as you’re still here...”

“Actually, I, um. I got offered the internship with Engineers Without Borders,” Alec muttered, shifting his feet.

“Alexander! That’s fantastic, now you have to come in and have a drink with me, tell me all about it. Where they’re sending you, for how long - I want to know everything!” Instinctive Magnus reached out, tugging on the arm of Alec’s long black coat. It hurt when instead of smiling Alec pulled away.

“I fly out January 1st. I’ll be gone all year. It’s - I’ll be living in one of the mountain villages in Timor-Leste, they’ve got a new project to build a hospital there and if things go well, I can stay to work on securing the town’s water supply the year after. They said they’d try and get me back in time for next Christmas. So I - um - I have to go. You know, packing and everything.”

Every other time Alec’s said anything about the project his passion had been radiant, which meant these clipped sentences and flat tone had to be Magnus’ fault. Magnus cursed the Yule Ball, cursed the fact he couldn’t even abandon his plans with Camille because he hadn’t thought to get her number. Cursed the fact he was meant to be going away with Cat and Ragnor to have New Year's Eve at Cat’s family’s Chalet. So this was it? Alec was leaving the country in a few days for an entire year and Magnus wouldn’t get to see him again till next Christmas?

“At least let me take you out to the airport, Alec,” Magnus said, throwing caution to the wind and jettisoning his New Year's plans.

“But-” Alec began, displaying that adorable furrowed brow of his.

“Nothing is more important than seeing my best friend off on the trip of a lifetime,” Magnus assured him. “I’ll be at that airport whether you let me drive you or not. I’m not below blackmailing Izzy into telling me so you may as well just accept it.”

Alec’s rueful smile was like sunshine, the man he recognised peeking out from behind the rigid facade he was putting up.

“You really want to get up at six in the morning just to see me off at the gate?” Alec asked, raising a challenging eyebrow.

“I’ll be on your doorstep at five,” Magnus shot back, his lips automatically curling to match Alec’s.

“If you’re late I’m leaving without you,” Alec threatened sliding back into their familiar banter without even seeming to realise he was doing it.

“Okay.”

“Okay. You’re on.” Alec nodded, holding Magnus’ gaze before saying softly, “Merry Christmas, Magnus.”

“Merry Christmas, Alexander.”

~ The Present: 22nd December 2018 ~

Magnus needed a drink.

His crush on Camille had been madness and she’d played him for the fool he was. She’d strung him along for almost 3 weeks after ‘confessing’ to being his mysterious mistletoe kiss. She’d made a game out of kissing him everywhere except his lips, correctly assuming that he’d realise the minute their lips met that something was off. He’d been so caught up in wanting it to be her, wanting to believe that she felt the way he did about her. But even she’d tired of that game eventually, laughing at his naivety when she’d finally revealed she hadn’t even noticed him at the Yule Ball, she’d just thought it would be fun to see how long she could string him along because surely the top medical student couldn’t be that stupid? Well, apparently he was. He’d spilled the whole humiliating affair out in one of his emails to Alec. It makes perfect sense now that Alec had barely referenced the whole mess when he’d finally replied over a week later. Then again, it wasn’t like Alec had super reliable internet at the best of times, so it could also be that Magnus was projecting.

Getting up, Magnus paced over to the drinks cart, skipping his usual ice and pouring whiskey liberally into the waiting tumbler. Tossing it back in a single swallow Magnus tried to figure out what to do. It’s been a whole year since that photograph had been taken, it’d hardly be surprising if the intervening time had been enough to thoroughly destroy whatever feelings Alec might once have had for him. Did he really want to risk destroying their friendship a second time?

Yes.

The answer was immediate. He was in love with Alexander Lightwood and he had to know if there was any chance to make this work. Hell, he’d been prepared to follow the man to the other side of the world without the tiniest shred of real evidence to justify his hopes, now at least he knew it was possible. There had been real passion in that kiss and tenderness in the breakfast he’d made for him the next morning. He just hoped Alec was willing to give him a chance to show just how much he wanted that future.

To Be Continued