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postguiltypleasures · 2 months

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My Peak TV Journey Girls5Eva

I meant to take notes for this, but didn’t as I watched it too quickly while preparing to move. I thought that the third season was great. If I have any complaints it’s that it was too short, and I wish they found more time to fit songs into it.

In the pre-release to the season, critics buzzed about how switching from Peacock to Netflix would boost the show’s profile and make people forget it ever started and was canceled anywhere else. It didn’t. As someone who really likes the show and wants more of it, that was disappointing. Contemporary musical comedy made for television may be a really small sub-genre for a reason. But I also developed a dark theory, which is that this cycle of revisiting pop musicians from approximately twenty years ago and condemning the way they were treated by the media really isn’t interested in dealing with the aftermath in contemporary life and that makes this show finding an audience harder. And while I do generally think that, I am unwilling to fight for it. It’s accusatory and un-provable. Also, it’s just based on my thought experiments. Based on more anecdotal experience, it might be that in the first episodes, the set up feels more sad than funny. This is similar to The Other Two, a show of I’d consider its cousin. Both can trace their roots to Saturday Night Live, both are show-biz satires about the not great effect of long term commercial failure on its main characters and an industry morphing at a rapid speed. I am a fan of both, but have to admit I can see why they’d be off putting for many viewers, especially in their early episodes.

Instead of speculating on why it didn't hit that big, I am going to praise what I liked about the series, showing my appreciation as long as I can. The season’s arc was about a failed attempt to do a small tour after the release but lack of promotional support of the album that they spent most of season two making. That season ended with a song they wrote about Fort Worth, Texas simply because it’s the largest American city that didn’t have a song about it. So their “tour” starts with an extended residency in Fort Worth, where they are adored, but not reaching their full potential. This is underlined symbolically by them staying at the Marriott Hotel’s Divorced Dad Suits. (They stay for free courtesy Gloria’s credit card points.) I love everything about the Divorced Dad Suites’ especially the vending machine of already wrapped birthday gifts. (Summer advising one of the divorced dads on what to purchase from it makes me smile to think of months later.)

When they finally leave Fort Worth they arrange a tour of small clubs, excited to meet with more of their under-served and dispersed fan base. Wiki also books them to play Radio City Music Hall on Thanksgiving Day, giving them the goal of trying to sell tickets there before the date. Only it turns out that the clubs they are touring are all owned by an ultra right wing family (represented by John Ealy as some one eager to force himself into meetings between pregnant people and their doctors, while otherwise being a miserable closet case) who demands approval of the content of their shows. When they defy this by performing their original song “BPE (Big Pussy Energy)” a “Footloose” is declared on them banning them from all their potential future gigs. The declaration of a “Footloose” also has me laughing months later. Awful as he was, I wanted more of John Ealy and his character.

Between being forced to cancel most of their tour and the season climax at Radio City, they visit Wiki’s parents in Maryland, take part in a private birthday for a rich wife, and befriend the biggest male pop singer of their time.

Summer gets involved with a multi-level marketing business to try and make more money while the band's tour is cancelled. while trying to develop a sense of self away from men and religion. She’s adorable. She also is deeply unsure of her taste and gets some validation in loving something literally everyone else thinks is a bad idea. Busy Philips has never been better.

Wiki’s parents turn who are affluent. All the talk about her “Hard Scrabble” up bringing was puns and misdirection. Her dad is buying a boat to retire on and enjoys crabbing. She has very successful sibling in medicine. She wondered if some of her failures in show business are because she’s too coddled at home. But we learn more about her DOA solo career, some of which demands scenes between her and Summer, a plot important rarity. It deepened the dynamics in the group in some interesting ways. Renee Elise Goldsberry is as always a treasure and its exciting to see her reach for new successes after previous failures to launch.

Dawn kind of feels like an afterthought in this season. This is probably because she’s not trying to write for most of the season. Instead her arc, such as it is, is about being pregnant while touring and finding herself in situations where she awkwardly struggles with how to talk about the conversation that sometimes fuel her songwriting. It’s kind of awkward and doesn’t really have a payoff, unless you count the song written near the end of the season. I do like a lot off this plot in theory. I like the acknowledgment that it’s sometimes harder to address things directly than through art. And that as much of the pernicious things we want to attribute to art are already well ingrained into the society that produced them. I just want more Sara Bareilles.

Finally it’s time to talk about Gloria. Her story involves being obsessed with true crime podcasts, a direct to streaming reality series called Critter Mouth about a veterinary dentist for wild animals, becoming friends with the worlds biggest male pop star of the moment while not recognizing him because of her indifference to men, and a quest to determine what I kind of woman she is most suited to by sleeping with all 179 types in existence. (She has a spreadsheet). Amazingly, all these plots come together in hilarious climaxes. Breaking women into different types in general is not funny, but the fact that the number of types is 179, and this is apparently well known is funny. Also it led to a very good Reel Paula Pell and her wife made.

The season had some good jokes about Netflix through it’s in universe version of the series and recognizable versions of Netflix hits. It makes me sad to think of Girls5Eva not thriving among them.

#peak tv #what i'm watching #girls5eva #busy philipps #renee elise goldsberry #sara bareilles #paula pell

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allstarwmb · 9 months

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Who Is Craig Parker? Biography, Girlfriend, Family, Parents, Career

Who Is Craig Parker? - A versatile and accomplished actor, Craig Parker is widely known for his charismatic presence on stage and screen. Born on 12 November 1970 in Suva, Fiji, Parker has carved out a prominent place in the entertainment industry. During his decades-long career, he has become a prominent figure known for his mesmerizing performances and ability to immerse himself in a variety of roles. This biography looks back at Craig Parker's life and focuses on his personal and professional journey.

Craig Parker Biography -

Craig Parker is a New Zealand actor known for his extraordinary talent and contribution to the world of entertainment. With a career spanning film, television, and stage, Parker has established herself as a versatile performer capable of playing a wide range of characters. His passion for acting and dedication to his art have earned him a loyal fan base and critical acclaim.

Craig Parker Girlfriend -

Craig Parker is known to be a private person when it comes to his personal life. However, it is well documented that he highly values relationships. The actor has been secretive about his love life and has also kept details about his partnership a secret from the public. Despite the lack of comprehensive information regarding his relationships, Parker's emphasis on self-control highlights his commitment to separating his personal and professional spheres. I am.

Craig Parker Family and Parents -

Craig Parker was born in Fiji and spent his childhood surrounded by a supportive and loving family. Although not many details are known about his parents, it is known that Parker's upbringing played an important role in shaping his personality and instilling a passion for art. The actor has not been very vocal about his family in the media and has chosen to keep these aspects of his personal life private.

Craig Parker's Career -

Craig Parker's journey into the world of entertainment began in the early 1990s. He was recognized for his work on the stage and demonstrated his talent in various theatrical productions. His breakthrough came when he landed roles in popular New Zealand television series such as ``Shortland Street'' and ``Mercy Peak.'' Parker's transition to the international stage was marked by his role as the elf Haldir in Peter Jackson's film adaptation of J.R.R. John. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings trilogy.

After his success with The Lord of the Rings, Parker went on to build a varied and impressive career. He appeared in popular TV shows such as ``Spartacus'' and ``Rain.'' His ability to seamlessly switch between genres and characters demonstrated his versatility as an actor. In addition to his work in television and film, Parker remained active in theater, further cementing his reputation as a versatile performer.

Following his success in "The Lord of the Rings," Parker continued to build a diverse and impressive resume. He took on roles in popular television shows like "Spartacus" and "Reign." His ability to seamlessly transition between genres and characters showcased his versatility as an actor. In addition to his television and film work, Parker remained active in theater, further solidifying his reputation as a well-rounded performer.

Beyond acting, Parker has engaged with his fans through conventions and events, fostering a close relationship with those who appreciate his work. His commitment to his craft and his genuine connection with audiences have contributed to his enduring popularity in the entertainment industry.

Craig Parker Net Worth -

While specific details about Craig Parker's net worth are not publicly disclosed, his successful career in film, television, and theater undoubtedly contributes to his financial prosperity. With a portfolio that includes significant roles in blockbuster franchises and a consistent presence in the entertainment world, Parker's net worth reflects his longstanding and fruitful career.

#Craig Parker Biography #Craig Parker Girlfriend #Craig Parker Family #Craig Parker Wiki #Craig Parker news #Craig Parker Movie #Entertainment #Craig Parker

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nepf-ufrj · 2 years

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Interview with Moonbeam Predilections, the creator of The Fanfiction Terminology.

Moonbeam Predilections is an important figure in the fanfiction community, she has participated in the trajectory of fanfiction since the 90's, when fanfic left the paper and started to show its presence on the internet. She was the creator of Fanfiction Terminology, a glossary of terminology from the fanfiction community that many new fans, and even veterans of this world, turn to when they need to. It is free for use in research and studies. NEPF interviewed her about her history with fanfic and what are the important aspects to consider when defining fanfiction.

Glossary is available at the end of the post.

Versão em Português aqui!

#1 - How did you first get into the world of fanfic?

My very first fandom was The X-Files. I had been an avid fan of the show since the premiere in 1993, faithfully watching it every Friday night. I did not know it at the time, but I was also faithfully shipping Mulder/Scully as well. In 1995, my father got the internet hooked up to our family computer. I had nearly always had a computer in the house as my father used them for work, so immediately dived into stumbling my way around the dial-up modem. My first three days online were spent in a chat room - where I promptly got involved in my first wank session, ha! - before someone mentioned The X-Files mailing list. This of course peaked my interest and so I typed in the DOS commands (it would be a few weeks before we'd get our first graphic user interface internet browser, Netscape being quite new at the time) to check it out.

At first I only read stories. After a bit, I started commenting back to the authors. I made friends. Eventually I tried writing my own story. It was 1996, I was a teenager. I, of course, wrote a Mary Sue fic. One of my new friends offered to beta-read and post the story for me to the mailing list. That friend was already what we'd call an 'old timer' today. She'd been active in fandoms since the 1970s and knew what she was doing. But she took the time to patiently usher in a young newbie. Within a few months, I was posting on my own (and had thankfully moved on from the Mary Sue fic) and getting my own feedback. It was amazing and wonderful!

After a few more months and reading a few crossovers, I started looking for other fandoms of TV shows I enjoyed watching. Gargoyles, Forever Knight, Highlander, seaQuest, Kung Fu: The Legend Continues, and The Sentinel all had thriving fandoms that caught my attention. It was The Sentinel that was my introduction to slash fic though, and I adored it! TS remains one of my most read fandoms, with me seeking out or returning to read about Jim and Blair over and over again.

That first friend who ushered teenage me into fandom? She's still my friend today. We've never met in person (I'm Canadian and she's Australian) and we've lost contact for years at times until rediscovering each other as our fandom paths recross, but our friendship is still strong. It's my longest relationship outside of family. We don't currently share any fandoms at the moment, but that doesn't matter. We still talk about fandom, still recommend fics to each other, and still offer to beta for each other. Fanfiction was, is, and will likely always be a huge part of my daily life and I am very thankful for it.

#2 - From your perspective, what is the definition of the term fanfiction? For example, must fanfiction be written only by a fan, or can a critic also write it?

Fanfiction is a new transformative written work that is derived from an original canon source, such as a television show, book, or real life. It is based on the characters, concepts, and worldbuilding of the original canon source, but tells a different new story all its own. It does not effect the original canon source, but develops and grows into something unique from that base.

While we refer to the term Fanfiction to mean fan created fiction, and many of us who partake in it will call ourselves fans of the canon source, to be a fan does not mean blind acceptance. Indeed, many fanworks are about "fixing" things that occurred in canon that we find issues with. So yes, a critic can absolutely write fanfiction. A critic after all must care enough about the canon source in the first place to be critical of it, so aren't they also technically a fan?

#3 - Are the countless renditions and continuations of something like "Sherlock Holmes" or "The Iliad" considered fanfictions? Why or why not?

Yes, absolutely! There are probably very few truly original stories out there. Most of humanity's ideas are based on previous stories, changed and adapted through the tellings. Religious texts, mythologies, great classics like Shakespeare work their way into the collective unconscious of society and form the basis of our culture. Almost everything could be described as fanfiction of a previous story, if looked at from a certain perspective. The difference is purely scope. Time and how culturally influential the story was.

#4 - Must fanfiction be non-profitable? Why or why not?

Yes and no. It depends on who is writing it, to be honest. An ordinary woman writing on her computer about her favourite characters for pleasure? God, don't dare try to ask for money or you'll be sued into bankruptcy. Even without actively seeking monetary gain, us normal folk always run the risk of getting on the bad side of some disgruntled creator or copyright holder. And most of us can't afford the lawyers to defend ourselves. Declaring all fanworks as non-profit is often necessary just for the safety and survival of fandom as a whole.

But if a professional or famous person decides to create something like fanfic, a new twist to an old story? No problem, they can even publish to make a fortune! In fact, most do! Have you looked at many movies today? Basically all reboots and remakes... essentially fanfiction. But because they are professionally created, they are culturally acceptable and thus not defined as fanfiction. Even when the writing is terrible in comparison, *who* writes it is what gives it legitimacy.

#5 - What was your motivation to create "Fanfiction Terminology"?

In the beginning, my website was just my posted stories. Then I added in other pages like archive recs and story recs, whereupon I started getting questions from readers about what the words I used meant. So I made a basic glossary, just a few terms simply defined. The questions continued, even increased in number until they came regularly. (It helps that my site pops up quickly in Google Search results.) It was kind of organic the way the Fanfiction Terminology page grew as it did, not so much deliberately designed. Bit by bit, one suggestion or question at a time, dozens more terms got added or edited until I just sought out any missed terms myself to try and cover everything I could think of. By the early 2010s or so, it was fairly complete. Only a handful of new terms have been added in the last few years, and those mostly are newly evolved terms that simply didn't exist ten years ago.

#6 - Why do you believe there is such big prejudice against fanfiction?

Two reasons come to mind, in my opinion. One, the mainstream view people have that fanfiction is only badly written amateurish porn, unaware or uncaring of all the amazing other genres and works that exist. And two, that fandom is predominantly a past time of the female persuasion, and thus not as worthwhile as works created by the male-dominated spheres of Hollywood or the traditional publishing industry - much like, for example, how romance novels like Harlequins are viewed with less prestige than other genres even though many are as or more deeply researched and well written as their more macho competition.

How or if we can ever counter either of these misconceptions, I don't know. But I doubt we'll ever escape the prejudice against us until we do. Luckily, even the most cursory exploration into most fandoms reveals the true richness and depth we offer and for those willing to try can make all the difference.

#7 - What platforms do you use to read fanfiction? From your time in the community, what changes and what migrations have you witnessed from one platform to another (for example: after the tumblr guidelines revision)?

I mainly read on AO3 (Archive of Our Own) these days, because there aren't many other sources left. I'm an old timer and have seen many migrations as fandom evolves, sites dissolve, and time passes.

When I first started out in the early 1990s, I read and posted fanfiction on mailing lists, which were essentially just group emails for distribuition. Eventually, enterprising fans collated the works on those lists into fandom-specific archives like Gossamer (The X-Files) or multifandom archives like Fanfiction.net. Some were curated archives managed by owners or moderators, whose rules could change (like FFN banning explicit works), others became automated to allow writers to post directly to the archives themselves.

Then came the trend of every author making their own home website. Sites would link in 'webrings' to make finding them easier. Many sites were made on free hosts like Geocities (or myself on Angelfire, heh), which was great until Geocities was abruptly closed down. That led to massive deletions and loss of works. The Wayback Machine on the Internet Archive was crucial for record keeping of many old and lost stories, but even it couldn't capture everything. Crossposting across multiple platforms also ensured survival and quickly became the norm.

Then came the rise of the blogs like Livejournal in the early 2000s. Livejournal dominated fandom for probably 10 years or more, full communities developed everywhere within it. Crossposting to fandom archives still occurred, but the fans themselves had never before interacted so closely between author and reader as they did in the comment-focused blog format of LJ. The fandoms thrived! Then inevitably, the platform went through challenges (Strikethrough, 2007) and was sold to new owners. Fandom was driven away. But from LJ's free source code emerged Dreamwidth and other clones, safe haven for fandom to retreat to. Until finally some smart people said the heck with it, why should we live at their whims? Let's make our own space! And voila, the birth of AO3.

It took time to grow into the powerhouse it is today. Other platforms came and went. Some fans tried Tumblr after LJ, only to get censored. Others tried sites like Wattpad, which try to make money off them. Those of us who used Delicious bookmarks scrambled to move our thousands and thousands of recs in the Great Delicious Migration of 2011, with many finding a home among the then tiny Pinboard when its owner explicitly welcomed us. (I have huge respect for Maciej Ceglowski, who invited us to tell him what features we of fandom wanted most, watched us in awe as we collectively created the color-coded and indexed monster Google-document of DOOOM! in two days, and then actually did his best to accommodate our fanfic-based needs. Pinboard is still my preferred fandom resource for new story recommendations.)

#8 - Do you consider fanfiction literature? Why or why not?

This is the librarian in me answering this one, because the term literature actually has a very specific meaning that in fact very few fiction works ever fall into. Literature is a written work with such profound themes that it remains relevant for decades, centuries, or even millenia. There is a very big difference between literature and fiction. Most published books do not qualify. James Patterson, for example, while one of the most successful fiction authors in existence will never be considered close to literature. However, Harry Potter is already recognized as a classic and with its effect on culture may one day soon reach literature status.

Most fanfiction definitely does not. Not to say that some fanfic isn't as well written, or even better written, than some classic literature... but the quality of the rhetoric is not all that separates literary fiction from other genres, it's the universal exploration of the human condition. True literature is, as a librarian defines it, comparatively rare.

#9 - In your opinion, what are some of the qualities and flaws of the fanfiction/fandom community?

The sense of community itself is both its best quality and its biggest flaw.

By which I mean that fandoms can tend to be very insular. This is great, in that they foster strong relationships among members and with the canon source. We feel that sense of belonging to a fandom and rejoice in it. Participating by reading/writing fanfic just invests us deeper into the fandom community. We are not alone, but part of something wonderful. It's fulfilling and healthy, for some of us the best social interaction we'll ever need.

Unfortunately, that same membership in a fandom community can also lead to downfall. From factions dividing fans over pairings or other interests, the wank and flames, even to just overinvesting in something that'll eventually come to an end. How many fans do you know who picked their online pseudonym from a specific fandom? Tons, of course, but for how many is that name still relevant and not outdated? Far fewer. Some people need the validation of social approval, but there will always be those who disagree or just don't like you/your work. Criticism may be welcomed by some, but there are many others who find it hurtful and may lash out in return. What happens in fandom affects a person's real life because fandom is a, often very important, part of their reality. Good or bad.

#10 - How do you think fanfiction has affected popular culture and mainstream media throughout the years?

Honestly, I rather wish the two would stay farther away from fanfiction. Inevitably, even when the interaction is meant in good faith, pop culture and mainstream media only end up negatively portraying fanfiction and those of us in fandoms. We become a joke, a target, or viewed with disdain or disgust. ("Fifty Shades of Gray'', the terribly written bad Twilight fanfic that inexplicably attained world renown when its author stripped the names and published it, did fanfiction as a whole no favors. If anything, it has tainted us all under the same brush in the mainstream mind as nothing but amateur porn. Something we may not ever truly recover from.)

Mainstream media does not understand fandom or the passion of the people involved and so rarely knows how to respect us. Even when they try, inserting "fan service" moments into their media for the audience, most of the time it winds up being over the top mockery that makes me cringe. Nor is pop culture above exploiting fandom to make a profit. It's happened multiple times and always leaves the fans feeling used, uncredited, and disrespected while the Powers That Be get richer off of our ideas.

Fandom is a powerful force when it comes together. Fans mobilized toward a goal can absolutely affect the real world. We've brought back cancelled shows (the Serenity movie of the ignominiously cancelled Firefly tv series) , driven plot or character changes, and dragged obscure gems (like the original Star Trek) that would have been forgotten to time into the mainstream pop culture. But we rarely get respect for it. We are, after all, just crazy fans. And mostly female ones at that, which unfortunately in this patriarchal-based world makes our contributions worth less by default.

#11 - From plagiarism to original work, where do you believe fanfiction stands? Does the presence of Alternate Universes (AU) or OCs (original character) make fanfiction more of an original work than fanfiction itself? Where do you believe the line between the two is drawn?

I believe the defining characteristic separating fanfiction from an original work is the characters themselves. You can take a set of characters and drop them in even the most widely different AU, and as long as the characters stay in-character they will be recognizable and probably make for a great story. But if the characters are written such that they bear little resemblance to their origins? Then even the most recognizable environment will still feel like I might as well be reading original fiction. And if OCs are your preference, might as well try coming up with your own worldbuilding too as to avoid claims of laziness or plagiarism. The characters are the hardest part, they are what make or break the story.

FYI, this is not to say OCs have no place in fanfiction. Not true, some of the best stories have beautifully fleshed out original characters even in major protagonist roles. But the canon characters included need to remain in-character, no matter what. Out-of-character canon characters might as well be OCs, but are usually perceived as worse.

#12 - Lastly, what are your personal favourite fanfiction tropes or genres, and why?

Well, I describe myself as bifictional (gen, het, or slash!) and multifandomational (over 150+ fandoms) for a reason. I like a lot of things!

I love crossovers immensely, even when I don't know all the included fandoms, because they offer the best outside perspectives. I prefer angsty stories to funny ones, and slow burn novels to short oneshots. I adore realistic consequences in relationships (not everything need be Happily Ever After) and especially appreciate competency in characters (BAMFs are awesome!).

Lately I've quite enjoyed the trend of Omegaverse stories with Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics. I like the parallels to our patriarchal reality and the challenges to the status quo thereof. The best Omegas are the ones who don't submit or give in to be oppressed, who stand up for their rights. Women like us face many of the same challenges, so A/B/O stories often resonate deeply. (Slash pairings as a whole tend to be preferred because there are truly few well written non-caricature female characters in canon sources, making relatable het pairings more rare.)

Glossary:

Wank - repetitive online debates with no signs of consensus.

DOS - List of Microsoft DOS operating system commands.

Netscape - type of browser.

Mary Sue - perfect character, without flaws.

Slash fic - type of fanfic that contains a homosexual love relationship. The female version would be FemSlas.

Beta or Beta Reader - person who helps the fanfic writer by reading and correcting the text before it is posted.

Canon - everything that is present or established in the original content.

Fix it - fanfic tag that marks stories that contain an attempt to fix something that is considered 'wrong' in the original work. Example: death of a character.

Fanworks - Any and all transformative work done as an exploration of original content. Ex: fanfiction, fanvids, fanart and etc.

Mainstream - dominant trend or fashion.

Arlequins - any series of romantic novels of simple stories of straight couples.

AO3 (archive of our own) - non-profit open archive site for fanfiction and other fanworks, created in 2008 by the Organization of Transformative Works.

Gossamer - Better known as The Gossamer Project (The Web Project) was an archive group that, all combined, contained the vast majority of X-Files fanfics on the internet.

Multifandom - that is part of or contains several fandoms.

Fanfiction.net (FF) - The world's largest fanfiction archive site, created in 1998.

Webrings- search optimization tool, which organizes sites by theme, creating a circular interconnection structure between sites.

Geocities - site where The internet archive is located, created in 1996, and discontinued in 2009.

Wayback Machine - The Internet Archive's database that has archived over 613 billion web pages since 1996.

The Internet Archive - non-profit bookstore of thousands of books, movies, software, music, websites, etc.

Crossposting - the act of posting the same thing on different platforms to increase its visibility and avoid loss of content if an unexpected situation occurs on a site.

Live Journal - site where users can maintain a blog, journal or diary, and interact with other users. It was created in 1999 and was commonly used for fanfiction posting.

Τhe Strikethrough - An event that took place in 2007, when Live Journal deleted all user journals that contained words from an extensive list. Censorship was vast and deleted a lot of content for seemingly small reasons, such as containing the word “crime” in a story. This made many of its users look for a new platform to post their fanfics.

Dreamwidth - Online journaling service based on the original Live Journal service code, created in 2009 by former Live Journal employees and discontinued in 2011.

Wattpad - platform that allows sharing of stories, commonly used for fanfic posting.

Recs - abbreviation for the word “recommendations”.

Great Delicious Migration of 2011 - Delicious was a service that allowed you to bookmark, save and, above all, tag (mark with a certain word, a common way of organizing fanfiction) content in a completely controlled manner by users. After the company's purchase in 2011, users were hampered by the site's new reforms and rules, opting out of the site in a mass migration of sorts.

Pinboard - site that offered a service with the same concept as Delicious and charges around 25 dollars a year to the user.

Maciej Ceglowski - creator of Pinboard

DOOOM!, The Giant Reference Document of DOOM! - Multi-part document created by fans of the DOOM video game series, containing a glossary of references and terminology from the game world.

Fanservice - delivering something to fans in the original content, prioritizing only the fandom's will, regardless of whether such a thing fits where it’s inserted.

Powers that be - phrase used for individuals or groups that have power or authority in some way over something.

Alternate Universe - fanfic tag that marks stories that uses characters from an original content and places them in a world different from canon.

OC (original characters) - Original Characters is the fanfic tag that marks when there is an insertion of a new character that does not exist in canon.

Bifictional - word derived from the junction of the words bisexual and fanfiction. It means liking all sorts of romance categories in fanfic.

Gen - fanfic tag that marks a story that doesn't contain any kind of romance.

Het - fanfic tag that marks stories that contain heterosexual love relationships.

Slash - fanfic tag that marks stories that contain lgbt+ love relationships.

Crossover - fanfic tag that marks stories that contain the coincidence of characters and worlds from different original content.

Angst - Angst is the fanfic tag that marks stories that contain a theme of emotional or physical torment.

Slow Burn - fanfic tag that marks stories that contain canon characters who fall in love gradually and naturally, usually taking a long time to get together.

Oneshots - fanfic tag that marks stories written completely before posting, without prequels or sequels, and formatted in a single chapter.

Realistic Consequences on Relationships - fanfic tag that marks stories that show realistic consequences of canon characters' actions in a relationship.

Happily Ever After - better known today as Happy Ending, is the fanfic tag that marks stories with a happy or satisfying ending.

BAMF - short for Bad Ass Mother Fucker is the fanfic tag that marks stories that contain a character who is particularly impressive, usually smart and difficult to defeat.

Omegaverse or/and Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics - fanfic tag that marks stories that contain the dynamic where characters can be Alphas (dominant, authoritarian and respected people), Betas (ordinary people, usually common workers) or Omegas (submissive people, minorities and inferior). The tag is commonly used as an allegory for today's society, but mirrored in the werewolf community.

Find Moonbeam’s blog here!

Find The Fanfiction Terminology here!

#fanfic #interview #entrevista #research #fanfic research #moonbeam predilections #entrevistas

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eolewyn1010 · 3 years

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Back to rewatching Tatort München? Betcha!

So, since I've been talking with both @fanpersoningfox and @xxdreamiiloeyxx about "Am Ende des Flurs" recently, I thought I'd bring it up as a discussion topic because... I take issues. Mind spoilers for this episode as you go.

This episode caught a bit of upset at its initial release because it ends with one of our Kriminalhaupkommissare getting stabbed in the back. And everyone was like, "ooohh, but will he survive it???" Which he did, obv, and to be honest, the cliffhanger wouldn't have bothered me much anyway. It would have been fucking annoying if Franz would have died this way, but for other reasons. Down into this shithole of an episode that got some very impressed critics and left me more than a little put-off.

They make this whole big deal out of the dead lady, Lisa, having been Franz' girlfriend, one he was really serious about, and yet he didn't know that she was a prostitute. That's the absolute worst, you know. That she was a sex worker. That his lovely, golden-haired, perfect angel did dirty sex work.

Not, you know, that she wasn't honest with him.

Not that she aborted his baby without communicating it to him. (No, I'm not saying she should have had the child if she didn't want it. I'm saying he had a right to know that it existed and there was ever a decision for her to make.)

Not that she'd been pregnant by him, so apparently at some point decided to have unprotected sex with him, still without informing him that she worked as a prostitute. Urgh. That's just the peak of asshole-y irresponsibility.

So, in short, I hate our angelic victim that everyone is just SO taken with and that everyone falls in love with and that everything is revolving around and whose praises even people sing who've only ever met her dead (Mary Sue effect much?), and definitely not because she dared to sleep with more than one person. Fuck your ill-thought out biases, BR. At least be consequential and get to the real issues of this constellation.

Also, everyone is super defensive about Lisa the Angelic. One of her friends gets on Franz' case for letting her down... except it was her who ended the relationship and chose not to see him again. Get your perspectives straight, geez.

Then, the stabby-happy murderer. Is a good old, cliché, psychotic lesbian. Not the first one Tatort München brings up, mind you, and not the last. I'm so fucking tired of it. Problematic queer characters, brought on by your German television. In 2014. Shove it, BR.

The only beam of light I could find in all of this was that Ivo was trying to take care of Franz (I appreciate the moment when he says he's sending Franz to Croatia to stay with his, Ivo's, family for a while because he needs the time-out; nice try), but even that is not going in a satisfying way. Franz ignores him completely, doesn't try to take the help Ivo offers, and at some point, Ivo's just left yelling at the void, so everyone's just pissy all the time and it's not a nice team atmosphere. And where's Franz' brain this episode? I'm sure he sometimes has one. He doesn't have one here, because of this woman. Do I ever so appreciate driving my faves OOC.

Also, this was Kalli's debut episode. Baby boy really would have deserved something better than this mess and the audience begrudging him because they thought he was brought in to replace Franz.

Last but not least, the whole episode feels kinda trippy? There was a lot of dreamy, wishy-washy looking sequences with soft music and melancholic memories and it really didn't feel like it was making a whole lot of sense. Cue the two leading ladies who didn't convince me at all. They were playing kinda affected; it just all seemed very artificial, the mimics and how they delivered their lines.

This episode was bad and it should feel bad. Does feel bad to me, anyway. And this dead lady should have a Mary Sue complex the size of Sweden. Thanks for coming to my brat talk, take a detour to "Gefallene Engel" on your way out if you wanna see a better approach to many of these takes.

#Tatort München #Am Ende des Flurs #got this out of my system #a good example of bad writing

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lilydalexf · 3 years

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Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Rachel Nobel / Rae Lynn

Rachel Nobel, aka Rae Lynn, has 2 fics at Gossamer, but she’s written many more X-Files stories than that. You can also find fics by her at AO3 and various other archives. She’s one of the rare, special authors who’s posted numerous fic during the show’s original run and again in recent years. Big thanks to Rachel for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)? Absolutely. I joined a Facebook group for fanfic writers where someone recognized my name and asked about some of my stories that have disappeared from the Internet, and I almost fell off my chair. On the other hand, I go back and read original-run fanfic all the time - the Wayback Machine is my best friend for all the late great fanfic archives. Like fine wines, they get better with age! What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it? I was fairly young during the peak of the fandom - I was only 12 when I started watching the show and discovered the fandom online. A few years ago, right around the time we learned the revival was coming, I wrote an essay I called "How 'The X-Files' defined my adolescence," in which I wrote: "If you think about it, 'The X-Files' is a lot like adolescence: You start out thinking it's going to be a little hokey, NBD, and then you end up in its thrall, captivated and occasionally hugely let down. A lot of people behave strangely, and no one gets out unscathed. Mulder, in his own weird way, is the perfect mirror for an adolescent: He doesn't fit in; his life careens between being utterly consequential to the fate of the known universe and being completely pointless; he's socially awkward and can't quite nail it down with the girl of his dreams."

So for me, the fandom is inextricably bound up with adolescence, that feeling of vacillating between desperate loneliness and being on the verge of something enormously significant. Take romance: I was a bit of a late bloomer, and when all my friends were exploring their first relationships I was watching Mulder and Scully navigate this beautiful, complicated, soulful relationship without ever even kissing. That was deeply affecting for me as a teen.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)? I started out on mailing lists - there was an EMXC mailing list and one that I think was called X-Angst. [Lilydale note: There was a mailing list called XAngst Anonymous.] This was back at the dawn of the Internet when I only had 10 hours of AOL access a month, and I remember using what AOL called a "FlashSession" to log on, download all the fanfic from the mailing list and log off to read it. I vividly remember the excitement of watching all that new fanfic flood my inbox! Later on I was on atxc. During the long summer between "Gethsemane" and "Redux," it felt like fanfic was at its peak. There was a group of about a dozen women who got together (virtually) to discuss a work in progress by Lydia Bower called "Primal Sympathy." We called ourselves the "Primal Screamers," and we had our own website with fanfic recommendations and other discussions (it cracked me up to locate us as an entry on Fanlore.org). I was still in high school at the time and I was the youngest member; I felt like I had been accepted into a cool underground club. I worshipped these women, who were fanfic writers themselves. They taught me everything I knew about how to be a decent, respectful, enthusiastic consumer and writer of fanfic and fandom. [Lilydale note: I’ve talked enthusiastically about the Primal Screamers here before, including their fanfic primer.] What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general? In the '90s, I would have been embarrassed to tell anyone I read fanfic, let alone that I was writing it. Now, I look back on it and realize how talented and smart and passionate we all were. It's something to be proud of. What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show? The first episode I ever saw was "Shadows," which was on in reruns between the second and third seasons. I don't think "Shadows" is an episode that anyone today would consider thematically significant, but something about seeing those office supplies float spookily through the air - it wasn't like anything I had seen on television, and I wanted in. What got you involved with X-Files fanfic? I've always been a person who, when I am interested in something, seeks to learn more about it. So I guess I got online as a 12-year-old with this new interest and discovered fanfic. It was thrilling to find out that so many talented people were taking characters I loved and bringing them to life for me. When the screen faded to black each week and I wondered, "That's it? What next?", fanfic was always there to fill in the blanks and take Mulder and Scully to the next level. As a teenager, I was self-indulgent enough to think I had something to contribute, too. Most of what I wrote in the '90s would today make me cringe. I remember literally paging through the dictionary in search of erudite words I thought Mulder and Scully would say! But occasionally I'll feel brave enough to read an old story and I feel encouraged to see a spark: a turn of phrase or a fragment of dialogue that I still feel proud of. I write professionally now, but I've never written fiction that isn't X-Files fiction, so it's something that has really allowed me to hone my creative juices in a different way. What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? Sometimes I feel like the Statler and Waldorf of the fandom, like I'm sitting up in the balcony grousing "Back in my day...!" Because the fandom is remarkably robust, and I've gotten involved with it to an extent on Twitter and AO3, and now all these young whippersnappers idolize Mulder and Scully just as much if not more as I ever did! Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files? Not really, no. I've of course consumed a lot of media since The X-Files that I wanted to discuss with others - I'm a huge "Harry Potter" nerd, and I was outraged when Netflix canceled "The OA" - but strangely I've never had the urge to read or write fanfic about anything other than "The X-Files." Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? Every Thursday night! I watch a chosen episode with a group of fans on Twitter and tweet about it - #tbtXFiles. That's great fun. There are episodes I've seen dozens of times over the years and episodes I think I only ever watched once, and it's always enlightening to watch them again with a certain critical eye. When I was a fan during the original run, I really idolized Mulder; I loved episodes where we saw him in all his cracked genius glory. Scully was a trailblazer of a character, of course, but I think the fandom has evolved over the years to give Scully her due. Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom? I was fairly stunned when the revival came around and I realized that people were still writing X-Files fic, and that a lot of it was so good. So yes, I do read fic on Archive of Our Own. But my heart is always with the early days of fanfic. In the revival when Mulder says "I've always wondered how this was going to end" - that felt to me almost like a love letter to fanfic authors who had been trying to answer that question for 25 years. Surprisingly, I've never had the urge to read fic in another fandom. Every time I try, it just feels like I'm cheating on Mulder and Scully. Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors? My favorite author back in the day was Kipler. Her stories were just like real episodes of the show I could vividly imagine in my mind. I adore syntax6, particularly "20" and "The Birthday Stories," because of the way she perfectly and poignantly captures vignettes that span the entire series. Another favorite is Dawn and her "Blood Ties" series - I started out as a "NoRomo," and Dawn was one of the authors who made me believe Mulder and Scully could have a romantic relationship that really worked. And I always had a soft spot for Profiler!Mulder stories, so to this day I mourn the unfinished state of the great Kronos fic "Ascent to Hell." One fic I always come back to that captures profiling Mulder really well is "Domination of Lies," by cslatton. And then there are stories that I consider classics: "Corpse" by Livengoo, "Oklahoma" by Amperage and Livengoo, the "Revelations" and "All Hallow's Eve" series by Windsinger. What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise? I have a soft spot for a story I wrote called "Human Credential." I was attempting, a quarter-century after the first season of the show, to set a story in the very early days of the partnership (which these days is one of my favorite kinds of fanfic to read), and I felt like I nailed it. Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online? I have been doing both of these, as a matter of fact! Or in my case, they are oldies that made it online but vanished when Geocities went belly-up, for example, that I sometimes go back to and reshape. Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work? As the swallows return to Capistrano, I seem to always return to writing fic at periods of transition in my life. The first time I "retired" from fanfic, I wasn't even in college yet! If one can be nostalgic at 21 years old for something one gave up at 17, I was nostalgic for fanfic, and I picked it back up again in grad school. Then I became a teacher and a wife and a mom and years passed, and the revival seduced me back into it again. But the vast majority of fanfic I've written is firmly planted in the first seven seasons of the show - poor Mulder and Scully never seem to get to grow up in my stories. What's the story behind your pen name? I wrote under a lot of pen names over the years! When I first started writing fanfic, no one knew anything about Internet safety and it didn't occur to me that it wasn't wise to use my real name. There was a period when I would have been mortified if anyone discovered my stories under my real name - now, at least I can write it off as a youthful indulgence! When I finally grew into a more mature writer, I started using the name Rae Lynn, which is almost-but-not-quite my real first and middle names. Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions? As far as I know, unless my friends and acquaintances have done some sleuthing, only my husband knows I still write fanfic. And he's never read it, though he's kind enough to give me a glazed-eyes indulgent smile if I ever talk about it. Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now? I am xraelynn on AO3! I have about a dozen stories there - some of them I wrote 15 years ago and some of them are brand spanking new. Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Fanfic is a true labor of love. Fanfic authors don't write fanfic for money or fame; they do it because they love it. Sites like AO3 and Tumblr have made it so much easier to show your appreciation to writers (::gruff reminiscing voice:: back in my day, you had to send them an email, and now you can just click the "kudos" button!). I can only speak for myself, but I really thrive on that feedback - otherwise I'm just Mulder in his cramped hovel of a home office waiting for Scully to nag me to shave my beard. Every so often I think about the fact that there is so much high-quality writing about these characters I've loved for decades just available on the Internet for free and it feels like a true gift.

(Posted by Lilydale on May 4, 2021)

#old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #rachel nobel #rae lynn

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barschter000 · 3 years

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OWOWOW MY FANGAN

THANK YOU SO MUCH AT EVERYONE WHO IS INTERESTED IN THIS SERIOUSLY YOU CAN'T BELIEVE HOW HAPPY THAT MAKES ME MY HANDS ARE SHAKING (that's also why it took so long to post this akhdjwjs)

Baiko Omori – Ultimate Lucky Student

"My name is Baiko Omori, I am here as the Ultimate Lucky Student. The pleasure of meeting you is mine, my dear friends! There are actually quite many things that I'm talented at and hopefully, this academy helps me find my 'true Ultimate.'"

Birthday: March 11th (Pisces)

Blood Type: A+

Height: 165cm / 5'4”

Weight: 67kg / 148lbs

Likes: vintage 50s music, street food, grocery shopping

Dislikes: cockroaches, the smell of gasoline, betrayal

Baiko never means harm as he values life over everything else. He is friendly and considerate, always smiling. He offers help where he can, sometimes coming off as intrusive but never does something that would put him at a disadvantage. He has the habit of calling everyone his “dear friend” and is in general, quirky and a little detached from normality. When you're around him, you can't help but feel like there's something off but Baiko is too nice for you to bring that up.

Ei Hagakure – Ultimate Ghost Whisperer

"Name's Ei Hagakure, Ghost Whisperer. Sup? My gramps went to this school back in his days. Sadly didn't inherit his spiritual powers, so guess I'll substitute with a bit of science."

Birthday: April 29th (Taurus)

Blood Type: B+

Height: 177cm / 5'8”

Weight: 57kg / 126lbs

Likes: bad television shows, abandoned buildings, the pizza they have on Wednesday at her university's cafeteria

Dislikes: family fights, doctor's appointments, olives

Ei is a laid-back young scientist that leaves the world of academics in wonder at her more or less successful inventions. Her greatest goal is to prove the existence of ghosts based on scientific findings. Despite Ei's grand ambitions, she is relaxed and calm and just weird enough to get along with almost everybody.

Hideaki Yukiyama – Ultimate Mathematician

"Yukiyama Hideaki, Hideaki Yukiyama, Mathematician and the Ultimate at that! This class looks pretty alright so far. You shitwits seem like the type a smart boy like me can have fun with, hehe."

Birthday: May 2nd (Taurus)

Blood Type: 0+

Height: 156cm / 5'1”

Weight: 62kg / 137lbs

Likes: the feeling of chalk, messy notes, his own laugh

Dislikes: boredom, sitting straight, school uniforms

Contrary to what his talent might lead you to believe, Hideaki is actually a brat. Constantly in the search for mischief and entertainment, he likes to ridicule and annoy others. His genius lies hidden in his complicated speech and spectacular knowledge that he uses to confuse the people around him. All negativity and criticism towards his character simply bounces off him. It is not easy to befriend him as he believes that friends hinder him but deep down, he wishes for someone to get through his irritating personality to know him better.

Ichini – Ultimate Robotics Engineer

"My model's name is 1.2, that's Ichini for you. Ultimate Robotics Engineer. Be prepared to have that weirded-out look wiped off your faces, meatbags! Someday I'll drown this world in chaos and rule humanity with my machines!"

Birthday: August 13th (Leo)

Blood Type: 0-

Height: 210cm / 6'8”

Weight: 132kg / 291lbs

Likes: the smell of electricity, children's' shows, energy drinks

Dislikes: being photographed, asparagus, humanity

Ichini is a mean cyborg that has rejected humanity and all its aspects. Xe thinks xemself superior to everyone around xem because they are still human and will not survive the overthrow of the machines that xe is planning. Despite xir large, armed metal body though, Ichini is all bark, no bite and wishes to be more courageous and confident in xir choices.

Jun Nagao – Ultimate Escapologist

"My name is Jun Nagao, I'm the Ultimate Escapologist. There's nothing much about me, really. Sorry."

Birthday: September 25th (Libra)

Blood Type: AB-

Height: 171cm / 5'6”

Weight: 63kg / 139lbs

Likes: flower bouquets, art from the Romantic era, freshly laundered clothes

Dislikes: skin tight clothing, reading out loud, overcrowded subways

After his face was paralysed in a kidnapping incident, Jun has adopted the perception of him being emotionless and cold. As he usually dismisses others and their feelings, Jun is a loner. Because his talent stems from his continued abductions, he finds it distressing to be enrolled at Hope's Peak Academy but accepts his fate to ensure his own safety.

Kaida Tsutsumi – Ultimate Stock Broker

”Kaida Tsutsumi... Ultimate Stock Broker... That is all.”

Birthday: January 9th (Capricorn)

Blood Type: AB-

Chest: 82cm / 32”

Height: 153cm / 5'0”

Weight: 58kg / 128bs

Likes: coffee, Paganini, listening to the rain while falling asleep

Dislikes: the cold, bitter coffee, wool sweaters

Kaida is a small and timid girl, so shy that it is hard to imagine that she works at the stock market. Kaida is great with numbers and probabilities and rather spends time with diagrams and prices than with people. She only speaks as much as necessary and gives her answers clear and direct. Because of her reluctance to talk about herself, she is mostly seen alone but will get extremely attached to you the moment you show that you acknowledge her. It feels like she holds a secret that she can't reveal.

Kyo Kido – Ultimate Horror Author

"My name's Kyo. Uh, Kyo Kido, that's probably how you know me. I'm the Ultimate Horror Author? I'd offer to give out some autographs but my hands are kinda shaking right now cuz– Wow– Hope's Peak, y'know! So it's gonna look kinda ugly, ahah."

Birthday: November 21st (Scorpio)

Blood Type: 0+

Height: 180cm / 5’9”

Weight: 79kg / 174lbs

Likes: romance novels, romantic comedies, the clacking sound of typewriters

Dislikes: ink stains on his hand, sharp pencils, soup

Kyo is really just a normal teenager with a knack for writing; at least, that's what he believes. Like every other teenager, he is a little awkward and shy and, in contrast to his talent, not at all scary. However, Kyo's books manage to evoke such terror in his readership that it's dubbed and loved as 'Kido's curse'. Kyo is flattered but honestly can't handle the fame.

Maxis von Läuterbach – Ultimate Knight

"My name is Maxis von Läuterbach, wielding the title of the Ultimate Knight. It is not often that you see someone as wondrous as me, so my lieges, I am ever at your service."

Birthday: June 21st (Gemini)

Blood Type: AB-

Height: 182cm / 5'9"

Weight: 75kg / 165lbs

Likes: stained glass windows, historic castles, Belgian pralines

Dislikes: blisters, ignorance, ill-behaved children

Growing up surrounded by ruins of glorious pasts and with the wish to set themself off from their peers, Maxis chose to walk the path backwards and do everything in their power to become a historically accurate knight. Unfortunately, Maxis had miscalculated and noticed that a knight lives to serve, not to be served but there is no turning back now.

Shiori Ishimaru-Owada – Ultimate Team Captain

"I'm Shiori Ishimaru-Owada, proudly bearing the title of the Ultimate Team Captain! I'm excited to get along with y'all! Honestly, I don't really know why I'm at this academy, but as long as I make my Dads proud, I'm probably doing the right thing!"

Birthday: December 14th (Sagittarius)

Blood Type: AB+

Height: 185cm / 6'0”

Weight: 79kg / 174lbs:

Likes: racing games, exercise, cooking

Dislikes: reading, hospital stays, basements

Shiori is an intense and upbeat girl. She is a capable leader with strong beliefs that she defends well and at times, imposes on others without noticing. While not being truly talented at a singular sport, she has tried out many things and has always effortlessly attracted a group of allies around her, no matter where she went. She is kind and motivational and, strange for a teenage girl, very attached to her parents.

Tamae Shiroma – Ultimate Whistleblower

"I'm Tamae Shiroma, Ultimate Whistleblower. Pleasure. Before I get any complaints later: Know who you're talking to, alright?"

Birthday: May 21st (Gemini)

Blood Type: B+

Height: 159cm / 5'2”

Weight: 73kg / 161lbs

Likes: hot baths, spicy food, her sister

Dislikes: reality TV, sugary food, caterpillars

Famous for her small but well-placed leaks, Tamae is the tiny thorn in the side of many politicians. In the shithole that she considers the world, Tamae tries to find the truth as painful as it may be to some. She is wary and never fully trusts anyone, knowing that how dirty people play for their achievements. While talking to her, it always seems like she knows more than you've told her. That is probably true. At the cost of her anonymity, she is attending Hope's Peak where she is promised security. Her talent is her duty, whether she is happy with it or not.

Etsuya Iwata – Ultimate Opera Singer

"My name is but fleeting. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, a song of any other melody would sound as fine. For now, call me Etsuya Iwata, forever I am the Ultimate Opera Singer. Allow me to bring pleasure to your ears, my darlings!"

Birthday: July 9th (Cancer)

Blood Type: B-

Height: 174cm / 5'7”

Weight: 65kg / 143lbs

Likes: being on stage, tea, sightseeing

Dislikes: having to keep secrets, incompetence, boring drama

Etsuya is a charming lad that likes to bathe in the spotlight. He comes from renowned music schools and stages and he is aware the extend of his talent such as his vocal range, performance abilities, musical expertise or the languages he is fluent in. However, Etsuya is not arrogant, he rather aims to make people happy with his performances. It's easy to fall for his appeal and compliments but it's just as easy to notice that he is moody and picky and overall dramatic, and terrible at lying.

Rokuro Nakatani - Ultimate Fraud

"Rokuro Nakatani, sixth son of my generation. This school calls me the Ultimate Fraud yet there's no actual evidence for this claim. I fear they might have given me that title based on my sisters who were arrested for theft and forgery. Well, these are only two of my eight siblings, black sheeps aren't uncommon, right?"

Birthday: April 14th (Aries)

Height: 167cm / 5'6"

Weight: 66kg / 146lbs

Likes: lucky charms, rabbits, looking stylish

Dislikes: noisy places, manual labor, seaweed

Rokuro comes from a family of forgers and grew up in criminal ranks with limited contact to a normal life. He is used to being assessed and given a value and, just like everyone else in his clan, is a perfectionist through and through. His talent, artistic skills and his eye for detail all came naturally to him without much effort. Rokuro is the poster child of his family, earning him prestige and confidence but also pressure and envy from his parents and siblings. Towards others, he is condescending and belittling. Despite his standing in the Nakatani family and with his crafting abilities at hand, Rokuro often wonders if there is a way for him to create something original.

Miyoko Iwata – Ultimate DJ

"Miyoko Iwata, Ultimate DJ! The lil' hodgepodge I'm wearin' on my face isn't actually a laser or sumthin', it just helps me see. So no worries, I don't bite! Or at least, not that often."

Birthday: July 9th (Cancer)

Blood Type: B+

Height: 172cm / 5'6"

Weight: 68kg / 152lbs

Likes: bass, crowds, playing violin

Dislikes: the quiet, being lonely, salty instant meals

Miyoko is a young music producer that is known for her remixes and features and grew her large international fanbase through social media. With how many experiences she has made in so little time, she has matured quickly and developed a sort of maternal protection over those she holds dear. However, that protection often slips into violence. Miyoko lashes out and threatens people, sometimes pulling the knife she carries on her. There seems to be something hidden underneath her visor and neon clothes that Miyoko doesn't wish to talk about. She says that she is looking for something.

#fanganronpa #fangan #fangan oc

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 3 years

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Worthy (pt4)

Author’s note: I am crappy at tagging people. Inbox me if you want to be added, and just keep poking me if I keep forgetting to add you. <3 @rampant-salamander @bolontiku

I had to wonder if the powers from Thor’s hammer included allowing me to disappear into the floor so I would not have to face the source of my embarrassment again. I wanted to slam the bathroom door and lock it and hide until Thor left. But I somehow guessed his sense of chivalry would be too great to just leave me to die of embarrassment and he would do something stupid, like breaking down the door, to ensure I was okay, instead of just understanding I needed to lick my wounds in private. Particularly when he thought humans were prudish about nudity. Did they walk around in Thor-land buck naked all the time? I mean, if they all looked like Thor that might not be a bad thing. I was far too conscious of my lumps and cellulite and stretch marks to be okay with joining them in the nude party though.

I dropped the towel and looked at myself in the floor to ceiling mirror, trying to guess what he must have thought when he hauled me off the floor. I was pale. I’d been far too busy finishing my thesis to be out in the sun in the spring, and it was obvious by the way my arms were the same fish belly white as my stomach. The time spent in the lab showed on my tummy and hips and thighs, all of which were broader than they’d ever been before. My roommate had said curvier was a nicer word, but I knew exactly how many slices of pizza had contributed to each new curve, and the fact that none of that skin had seen the sun in months made me feel bigger. I couldn’t lie and say I was completely unsatisfied with my body. I was just bigger than I’d been, and more uncomfortable in my skin. I’d promised myself I’d find some sort of activity to balance with my work life, for no other reason than for my health. I just didn’t buy into hating myself because I didn’t belong on the pages of a magazine. My body housed my brain, and my brain was pretty awesome. The rest was just packaging and resources for keeping my brain safe and at optimal function. But that was what I thought. I cast a critical eye on myself trying to figure out what Thor would have thought seeing me bare-assed on the floor. Given his impatience with my modesty, he probably hadn’t thought much at all.

I pulled my pyjamas on, and had to laugh at myself. The spaghetti strapped tank-top and boxer shorts didn’t cover much more than my towel had. But I couldn’t cross the living room again to find something else if I ever wanted to get rid of the man-god sitting in my living room.

I steeled my courage and opened the bathroom door. He’d figured out how to turn on my television, and had stopped on what appeared to be a documentary about the Avengers Initiative. He laughed at the television and shook his head, then clicked it off when he realized I’d come into the room.

“Do you want something to drink?” I offered.

“I rather think you do not wish for me to stay that long, Ella Carmichael.” He pushed himself off the couch and walked into the kitchen where I was refilling my wine glass.

“You know, you can just call me Ella. It’s weird to use someone’s first and last name,” I commented. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink? I hate to drink alone.” I held the bottle up in offering. I could see him hesitate for a moment, probably contemplating the honour involved in drinking wine or something.

“If you insist,” he smirked. I poured him a glass and came around the kitchen island to hand it to him. When he took the glass from me, he narrowed his eyes and took my wrist into his hand. He turned it over, palm facing up and ran his thumb across it. I’m not ashamed to admit I got goosebumps; it was more intimate than I’d been touched in recent memory.

“Have you always had that mark?” I realized he was running his thumb around my left hand in a pattern. I looked down, but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“I can’t see any mark.” I pulled my hand away and held it under the bright light over the island. Nothing. Thor took my hand again and looked closer, and traced the design out again on my palm. He was seeing something that I was not. He dropped my hand and picked up the hammer from where he’d placed it on the floor by my front door. He put it carefully down on the granite countertop of the island, and pointed at a big fancy three pointed knot on the face of the hammer.

“This is called a triquetra. It is also on your hand. I would know how long it has been there,” he explained. I shrugged.

“Well, I can’t see anything at all. But that’s the hand I picked up myewlnor with. Maybe it left a mark?” I knew I was completely butchering the name of the hammer, but god knows I couldn’t remember how to say it.

“Mjolnir.” Of course he would correct me.

“Mee-owl-neer?” I tried again.

“Mjolnir.”

“M-yol-neer.” I was reasonably sure I had it right that time. He nodded, and took my right hand in his, flipping the palm up. He traced his thumb around in the same pattern.

“It’s on this hand as well. This is a mystery. I do not know you well, Ella, but Tony seems to think you quite intelligent. Intelligence is not all there is to worth. But it is perhaps somewhere to start,” He pondered. I bit my lip.

“I don’t know how you judge worthiness where you’re from, but I’m not anything special. I don’t run around rescuing kittens from trees, or saving maidens from dragons, or curing cancer. I can’t even donate blood. I have some weird antibody.” I protested. Thor’s mouth cocked to one side in a grin.

“I have never done those things myself, and yet I am worthy. I will speak to my father,” he determined. He finished his glass of wine.

“You appear well. Your colour has come back, and you no longer show the signs of shock. I bid you good rest, Ella Carmichael. Thank you for sharing your libation with me, and for indulging my concern,” he bowed his head a little, hefted the hammer and turned. I followed him to the door. He turned as he crossed the threshold and placed a hand on my shoulder. “I will bring news once I have more understanding of what has happened.”

XXX

“So Thor saw me naked last night.” It was quite possibly the best first-line I’ve ever had. And I got to drop it on Angela as we walked through the build-a-Belgian-waffle line. She dropped her fork on the floor with a loud clatter.

“What? Naked? How?”

“Well, it all started when I had no clothes on,” I began.

“Seriously, Ella. What happened?” She demanded.

“Seriously. I was taking a bath and he knocked on the door. I figured it was you with the passcard, even though I’d said it could wait. So I wrapped my uber-skimpy-Stark-Industries-micro-towel around me, figuring I’d be opening the door a crack and accepting a passcard from you. He was at the door. And he just invited himself in, plain as you like. Said he was concerned about me,” I started. Angela shook her head, and as we walked through the waffle decorating station, I finished filling in all the details.

Once we were seated at a table, she took one of my hands and looked at it.

“I don’t see it either,” she sighed. “Do you suppose he has weird powers that let him see through things? Maybe that’s why he didn’t care that you were naked. Maybe he sees all of us as naked all the time.”

“You’re confusing him with Superman,” I laughed. “He has x-ray vision.”

“Superman is a comic book character! Thor is real! Who knows what all his powers are.” She cut her waffle up and started in on it. I pushed my waffle around the plate a little and drank my coffee. I didn’t like waffles. At all. I ate the mountain of fruit I’d piled on top of it, but couldn’t bring myself to get into the waffle itself.

“Well, not making a big deal about naked women is one of them. He made it clear he thought my prudishness was weird.”

“He’s weird. Most men would be hard pressed to not scope you out, regardless of how cool they tried to appear,” she stated, and then made a gesture that looked a little like jazz-hands. “Oh-em-gee! Boobies! Play it cool, dude. Play it cool, and she won’t cover up and then? More Boobies!” Her fake-guy voice was hilarious.

I snorted on my coffee. “I’m hardly in peak physical condition. He probably was just horrified by the wiggly bits and stretch marks.”

“I don’t think they see past the boobies, to be completely honest,” she laughed. I shook my head and finished my fruit. I’d effectively smushed up the waffle until it looked like I’d eaten some of it.

“What is on the agenda for me today, boss?” I changed the topic and drank my coffee. Angela pulled out a tablet and flicked through it.

“More orientation stuff. We’re going to go to distribution, and learn how to requisition things for your project. And how to req for your apartment too. And how different the two forms are and how important it is to make sure you use the right form,” she started. “Here’s a hint. The importance of using the correct form is inversely proportional to how similar the forms are to one another. You won’t believe that will take most of the morning, but it will. Then you’re seeing Markus after lunch.”

“Can I order bigger towels from distribution? Because the towels in my apartment are ridiculously small.”

“I don’t think so. But you can also requisition outside items from your in-suite purchasing app. Or I can just take you to Macy’s after work,” she suggested. “Are you not going to eat the waffle?”

“Confession?” I made a face. She nodded. “I hate waffles. They’re like a pancake with a skin disease. Disgusting.”

“I take back every nice thing I said about you. Waffles are amazing. Those are flavour pouches.” The look on her face was enough to make me bite my lip to prevent the laughter from slipping free. She was gripping her table knife like she might actually stab me. It would be a sticky ignominious death by maple syrup.

“Flavour pustules, maybe. So gross. I’m more of a bacon and eggs girl,” I admitted. Angela shook her head, her eyes cast downward in disappointment. She finally cracked the tiniest grin.

“Damn good thing you’re funny. Because that might be a deal-breaker otherwise. Come on. Bus your table. Let’s get you off to distribution so you can learn about the pedantry of requisitions.” She winked and grabbed her tray, leading the way over to the kitchen cart before directing us back to the elevator.

Distribution might not have been mired down in red tape, bureaucracy and shenanigans if they’d had a single window. But they were located in a sub-level of the building, below the parkade, completely walled in. There was a single door in, and it was right beside the loading bay. The staff kind of looked like they were a lost race of mole people. They were pale, suspicious of visitors and seemed a little paranoid that the rest of the company was out to make their lives miserable on purpose. The main stock clerk all but hissed at us when we came in.

Angela made quick work of running through the requisition forms. There was a single line that delineated personal requisitions from project reqs, and it was required for payroll deduction where appropriate. It was fair enough, but wouldn’t it have been simpler just to colour code the forms? I asked Angela as much and she clamped her hand over my mouth.

“Do you want to be barred from ordering things? Don’t rock the boat!” She hissed. “If you can control yourself, I want to show you heaven. This is the one thing that distribution does right.” She led me over to a table that had a pile of different catalogues on it. “This is the only part of Stark Industries that is still analogue because catalogues are so much easier than websites. And here’s where your colour coding idea comes into play. Blue catalogues are filled with workplace supplies, divided by shade of blue. The light blue cover is office supplies; the dark blue cover is electrical doodads, etc. You’ll learn them as you need to. The yellow covers are personal items. Light yellow is Stark Industries branded stuff. I do most of my Christmas shopping in the light yellow. My dad has a thing for polo shirts and golf balls. Goldenrod is household items that are covered by your living allowance. Stuff like bedding, kitchen utensils, towels. I think there’s a surround sound upgrade in there.” She handed me a pencil and flipped the Goldenrod covered catalogue open to bathroom stuff. The towel page was dog-eared. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who hated the mini-towels that came standard in the room. I filled in a requisition for towels and a plush bathrobe.

Angela brought me back to the stock clerk’s desk and walked me through the process for submitting the order. It was complicated. I almost expected to need to know a secret handshake to complete the transaction.

“So that should all be delivered before the day is over.” She led me back out of the department. True to her word, the distribution department and requisition in-service had taken us almost to lunch. We stepped off the elevator on the floor for my research division. “I figured I’d show you your desk before we eat lunch.”

We rounded a corner into the lab area. The space was wide open, from window to window. There were workstations at the periphery of the room. I assumed the conspicuously empty one was mine, but Angela walked right past it to a desk that was covered in stuff. There was a pile of paperwork on one corner that at first glance I thought was probably the information relating to my proposals. The desk itself was one of the Stark Industries touch responsive computers that I’d been desperate to try since the first time I saw one. The monitor was carefully suspended from the ceiling, keeping the desk as clear as possible. On the far side of the desk was a small cactus with a little plastic welcome stick pressed into the dirt, and a box of office supplies.

Angela made quick work of logging me into the computer. The log in sequence unlocked the desk drawers, so I was able to clear my desktop with one sweep of my arm into the top drawer. Angela sucked in her breath in response to the action.

“I will organize myself later. For now, that desk needs to be clear, if I’m ever going to work at it,” I explained. She grabbed the cactus protectively and held it away from my reach.

“Promise you won’t hurt the plant,” she demanded.

“Sure,” I agreed. She put the plant back down and disappeared across the lab, quickly returning with what looked like a shelf. While I watched, she mounted it to the window behind my desk. How she did it was a mystery, it looked like it was just hanging there. Some sort of mysterious Stark Tech, I suppose. She took the cactus and placed it on the corner of the shelf, her shoulders square in defiance of my otherwise blasé organizational skills. As though she already knew that I wasn’t going to organize my desk drawers later. I looked over at the desk beside me and saw that all the way down the bank of windows, there were shelves mounted against the windows, holding the various personal treasures of the employees assigned to each desk. My shelf looked kind of boring with just the cactus on it.

“Okay, let’s get lunch. You’ve got your meeting with Markus in 45 minutes.” Angela steered me back out of the lab and over to the elevator.

19 notes · View notes

zelenacat · 4 years

Text

Chapter 2- When We Were Young- An Obitine Story

The Duchess was careful the first four months of her first pregnancy, she wore flowing outfits with ruffles and loose-fitting sashes to draw eyes away from her stomach. Satine would appear at state events and cut ribbons, and make speeches on holidays or days of historical importance, and of course, she opened parliament. By now, she had made her political views very clear, she was a pacifist, and she supported the New Mandalorians. Those who were critical of the new Duchess' views claimed she was a shame to her clan, to her War Lord father, and that her sister should be more involved in government. That hurt Satine, but she decided that people had to let their anger out somehow. At least, none of the courtiers had claimed their dissent in her face, though Satine wasn’t sure how long that would last.

In her fifth month of pregnancy, that’s when things got harder.

“Satine?”

Sighing, the Duchess looked up, Khaami had a worried expression on her face.

“What is it?” she asked.

“The Mandalorian Society for Peace would like you to give a speech at their banquet next week.”

Fesma frowned.

Satine rested her hands on her stomach, “That will be tricky.”

“You can’t deny them,” Fesma stated, “you’ve shown yourself to be an advocate for peace.”

“A staunch one at that.” agreed the Duchess.

Khaami huffed, “We need a way to get around this.”

The room got quiet.

“Perhaps,” Satine began, “I could claim I have a former engagement but record a speech?”

Khaami brightened, “That might work.”

“But if you give too many televised speeches,” Fesma fidgeted, “won’t people get suspicious?”

Satine grinned, “Not if we implement my new idea.”

Raising an eyebrow, Fesma asked, “And what would that be?”

“Corsets.”

Khaami gasped.

“Satine,” Fesma sighed, “no.”

“We could work them into my outfits,” the Duchess suggested, “like we did with my coronation outfit.”

“The seamstresses did that.” Fesma corrected.

“And isn’t it dangerous for the baby?” Khaami added.

“I have to take some risks,” Satine swallowed, “I want this baby, but it’s going to be difficult.”

A silence once again descended over the room, Satine’s thoughts riveted through her skull.

“I’ll tell your writers to start drafting a speech then,” Khaami stood, “and I’ll stop at the tailor’s room on the way back.”

“Thank you, Khaami.”

Fesma sighed heavily as soon as Khaami closed the door.

“What is it?” Satine asked.

“This would be much easier if you,” Fesma paused, “if you-”

“I can’t,” Satine’s hands began to shake, “I don’t have the courage.”

“But this will be so much harder.” Fesma urged.

“I know,” tears sprung into the Duchess’ eyes, “but I love the baby’s father too much to get rid of it.”

“Satine-”

“Stop, I won’t have this conversation again!”

Fesma nodded, “Yes, Your Grace.”

In two days time Khaami and Fesma outfitted Satine’s newest dress. It was blue with silver embellishments and a purple sash.

“Ah!”

“Sorry, Satine.” Khaami grimaced.

“Tighter.” the Duchess ordered through ground teeth.

“Satine,” Fesma brought a mirror over to Satine, “are you sure?”

The Duchess turned sideways and stared at herself in the mirror, it looked like she had gained some weight, but it didn’t look like she was pregnant.

“You know what,” Satine gasped, “this will do.”

After recording her speech for the Mandalorian Society for Peace, Satine attended a council meeting with her newly selected advisors. They drew up a list of societies for the Duchess to give speeches at or attend, and advised her on when to hold court.

Looking around the table, Satine committed her advisors’ names to memory and thanked them for their support.

“Of course, Your Grace.” bowed the Prime Minister, Jaru Djarin.

The Duchess waited before all her advisors had left before hoisting herself upward, leaning heavily on the table. Her back hurt terribly these days, and sometimes she had trouble sleeping.

The rest of the day went by uneventfully, Satine sighed, some of these days were starting to blur together and she felt lonely. Hopefully that would change soon.

“How did it go, Satine?” Khaami asked, unbuttoning the Duchess’ dress.

“Eh, same as usual.”

Fesma frowned, “Satine, I’m worried about you.”

“Why?”

The Duchess’ dress fell to the floor.

Fesma sighed, “You’re not yourself anymore.”

Khaami met Satine’s eyes in the mirror as she undid her corset.

“Do you agree, Khaami?”

The lady’s eyes saddened, “You are a little down sometimes.”

Satine sighed as her corset came loose, standing in just her underwear, she turned and stared at herself in the mirror.

“It’s definitely noticeable now.” the Duchess observed.

“Would you,” Khaami began, “would you like to tell us about him?”

Satine blushed.

Fesma picked up the Duchess’ dress, “Satine, we know you wouldn’t do something like this without reason, tell us about him.”

Letting loose a giggle, the Duchess bit her lip and shook her head.

“Satine?” Khaami asked, shock in her tone.

“He was so kind to me,” Satiine said at last, “gentle and trustworthy, and he even had a snarky sense of humor.”

Satine watched as Khaami and Fesma glanced at each other, eyebrows raised.

“At first we only argued,” Satine admitted, “but then we agreed for Master Qui-Gon’s benefit that we should try to be civil.”

Khaami snorted, “Civil?”

“Our first kiss happened on a ledge overlooking a valley,” Satine smiled, “the sun was setting.”

“Satine,” Fesma sighed, “don’t tell me you’re a romantic.”

The Duchess laughed.

“What was his name?” Khaami asked.

Satine let her eyes fall to the floor, “I called him Ben.”

“Ben?”

“Meaning: mine.” Satine explained.

“Here, Your Grace,” Fesma said after a long silence, “let’s get you changed.”

Once Satine was in her nightgown, Fesma went for tea and Khaami clamored onto the Duchess’ bed.

“So,” Khaami grinned, “have you picked out any names yet?”

“Names?”

“You know,” Khaami crossed her arms, “for the baby.”

Satine opened her mouth to speak, the air recycler went on.

“Well I,” the Duchess paused, “I don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl.”

Khaami was about to answer, when a vent popped out of the wall. Satine turned.

“Don’t move.” came a growl.

On shaky legs, Satine stood.

“I said not to move!”

It was a man, clearly, and he was dressed from head to toe in rusty Mandalorian armor. The man’s eyes fell onto Satine’s stomach.

“Well, Your Grace,” the bounty hunter sneered gleefully, “you certainly have something to answer for, don’t you?”

“Who are you and what do you want?” Khaami managed to stutter.

“I’m just here for the Duchess, little lady,” the bounty hunter pointed his gun at Satine, “and if she comes with me I won’t have to kill you.”

“Her Grace is going nowhere.” said Fesma, appearing at the door, tea tray in hand.

Satine yelped as the intruder grabbed her arm and yanked her in a hold against his chest.

“Move and she dies, they’ll take her dead or alive.”

Satine could not let this happen, she decided to try a trick she’d seen Obi-Wan do before, ram your head into that of your attacker. So, she did.

“Ah!”

Satine held up the bounty hunter’s shooting hand and wrestled the gun from him.

“It’s treason to attack a monarch.” The intruder pulled a knife, “They said you were a pacifist.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t protect myself.” Satine spat.

“You sure it isn’t the momma bear instinct?”

Satine pulled the trigger, she was lucky, the bullet lodged in the bounty hunter’s neck. Shaking, the Duchess dropped the gun.

“Your Grace?” a voice called.

Thinking quickly Satine hid behind her dressing partition, a few seconds later a guard entered.

“Where were you,” Fesma shouted, “he tried to kill the Duchess!”

“Forgive me, my lady,” the guard said entering the room, “we were in the middle of a shift change.”

The guard spoke quietly into his communication device before calmly stalking towards the intruder.

“What happened here?”

Satine peaked around her partition, she saw Harryn, the captain of her personal guard.

“This assassin tried to kill the Duchess.” answered the first guard.

“And you killed him?”

“No, sir,” the guard shook his head, “he was dead when I arrived, I heard the shot.”

“Then who-”

“I did,” Satine’s words were rushed, “but in the report I would like it said that I waited for professional assistance.”

Harryn bowed, “Yes, Your Grace.”

The Duchess’ personal guards were so focused over the next few weeks, that when a palace nurse came to them with the news of a missing medical droid, they didn’t look into it, even though they said they would deal with it.

“What are you going to do, Satine?” Fesma asked.

The Duchess and her ladies were sitting in her personal parlor, a receiving room connected to her bedchamber. This and her bedroom were the only rooms where there were no microphones, only cameras.

“I hate to do my father this dishonor,” Satine began, “but I have to do this for the baby.”

Fesma tilted her head, “What dishonor?”

“I want to claim this child is my niece or nephew,” Satine lowered her eyes, “that they’re the child of my bastard brother.”

Khaami gasped.

“I know people who can fake the documents-”

Khaami’s mouth fell open, horrified, “You know people?”

Satine hesitated, “I’ve heard of people.”

“I agree with Her Grace,” said Fesma after a short silence, “this seems to be the best course of action.” “We’d have to pay them in kind,” Satine stated, “they can’t accept credits.”

“What could we use,” Khaami asked, “jewelry?” “I was thinking of physical monetary value.” Satine confessed.

“So,” Khaami paused, “bills?”

“Yes.”

The Duchess looked to Fesma, who was mulling over the prospect.

“I think jewelry might be best, Satine,” said the lady, “it’s easily exchangeable and has good value.”

“Alright,” Satine agreed, “we’ll pay them in jewelry, but where am I going to, you know-”

“Give birth?” Khaami whispered.

Satine flinched, “Yes, birth.”

Fesma frowned, “It has to be somewhere no one frequents, and it has to be soundproof.”

“The bombing basement?” Khaami ventured.

Satine grinned, “Unconventional, but it might work.”

By the time her third trimester began, the entire plan was in place. Under Satine’s bed lay a stolen medical droid and a bag of missing pain relievers, on her toilette in a mahogany box sat a cheap set of jewels, authentic, but not the grandest thing Satine owned. Finally, if one went into the bombing basement, they would find an old mattress covered in stained sheets and newspapers surrounded by tapestries on the walls and candles on the floor.

“Things seem to be looking up, Satine.” Khaami commented when the Duchess returned from a council meeting.

“We might actually be able to do this.” agreed Fesma.

Satine swallowed, “My advisors think I should marry as soon as possible, make a political alliance and sire heirs.”

Fesma groaned.

“Just when we thought things were looking up.” added Khaami.

“I told them I would consider it,” Satine sat down, hands on her stomach, “but I’m not sure how long I can hold them off.”

“Just until the baby is born,” Fesma assured, “then, once it’s safe, you can marry.”

The Duchess began to sob.

Khaami ran to her lady, “Oh, Satine-”

“I’m still in love with him, after all these months,” Satine choked on the air in her throat, “and he hasn’t contacted me once!”

“Satine-”

“I kriffing hate the Jedi!”

Fesma heaved a long sigh, “How very Mandalorian of you.”

Satine planted her face into her pillow and screamed.

Khaami tried again, “Satine-”

The Duchess screamed again. Then she groaned, sat up, and wiped her eyes.

“You know,” Satine swallowed, “sometimes I question my life choices.”

The Duchess was met with silence.

“Like why, for instance,” Satine continued, “did I have to fall in love with a Jedi?”

Fesma and Khaami shared a glance.

“It’s alright, you know,” the Duchess crossed her arms, “you can answer.”

Khaami opened her mouth to speak, but it was Fesma who spoke.

“You know, Satine,” the lady placed her hands on the Duchess’, “it’s okay to be upset.”

All at once, Satine’s anger level began to lower.

“I don’t have a heart anymore,” the Duchess began to tear up again, “I’ve given it all to him.”

“That’s alright,” Khaami wrapped her arm around Satine’s shoulders, “it will come back to you eventually.”

“I’ll never stop loving him.” Satine said matter of factly.

“Then the baby,” Fesma assured, “your heart will grow again when the baby arrives.”

Satine nodded, “Thank you, ladies.”

“Of course,” Khaami kissed the Duchess’ cheek, “and now, we must think of names.”

It didn’t take much deliberation for Satine to decide that if she had a boy, she would name him Korkyrach.

“After the warrior king,” the Duchess said, “but we’ll call him Korkie for short.”

“And if it’s a girl?” Khaami asked excitedly.

Satine faltered, “I want to give her a regal sounding name, a hyphenated name.”

“Ooh.”

The Duchess blushed, “I think I like Tyra Satine.”

“Tyra Satine,” Fesma grinned, “it certainly has a ring to it.”

A month later, Satine sent Fesma and Khaami, disguised under heavy cloaks, to a seedy bar in lower Sundari with a chest full of jewels. The Duchess listened in from her room, carefully following the criminal’s instructions on how to spread the news. Then the items were exchanged, three USBs for a chest of jewels. Fesma and Khaami nodded, so did the criminal conspirator, before going their separate ways. Still, Satine was nervous until they arrived back at the palace.

“Oh, thank you,” the Duchess embraced her ladies, “thank you!”

“Of course, Satine,” Khaami smiled, “things are going to be better from now on.”

The next morning, a story broke about the Former Duke of Mandalore, Adonai Kryze, the rumor going around was that he’d had a bastard son who had died in the civil war, and that he’d left a wife and child behind. After a week, the rumors grew so big that Satine was asked about them at a press conference.

“I do not know whether or not what people are saying is true,” The Duchess said solemnly, “I learned of this possibility from the media myself.”

At the end of the press conference, Satine traveled back to her room, claiming she had a slight headache. Khaami and Fesma were waiting for her.

“How did it go?” Fesma questioned.

“Good,” the Duchess paused, “they ate it up.”

Grabbing onto the back of her chair, Satine groaned.

“Satine?”

“I think-”

A burst of water splashed onto the floor and the Duchess swayed.

“Satine!”

Fesma ran to the Duchess and pulled her arm around her shoulder, supporting her just below the arms.

“Khaami, the droid and the pain relievers!”

As quickly as they could, the trio made their way through the less populated halls of the serving corridors down into the basement. The first wave of pain hit Satine two landings from the basement door, it was as if her lower half was burning and decaying at the same time, flaring up and dissipating at the same time. She gasped heavily and faltered, but Fesma held her steady.

“I can’t feel my legs,” the Duchess moaned, “I can’t-”

“We’re so close, Satine,” Fesma assured, “we’re so close.”

Finally, when the pain passed, the Duchess and her ladies continued down the stairs.

“Please,” Satine whined as Khaami struggled with the door, “it’s starting again.”

The door opened with a creek and Fesma flinched, but Satine yanked her forward as she made her way to the bed. Khaami set down the droid and closed the door, then she opened a metal drawer of steaming towels.

“How-”

“Stolen from the guest freshers,” the maid smiled, “I thought we’d need them.”

Satine nodded, lips drawn tightly.

Something buzzed, “I am Oiyo, the medical droid, what seems to be the problem here?”

“I’m kriffing giving birth!” Satine swore.

“Stay calm,” advised the droid, “and please answer some questions.”

The Duchess opened her mouth to yell at the droid again, but a shriek escaped her instead.

“You are a female of the human species, correct?”

“Yes!” Satine gasped.

“Is this your first baby?”

“Yes!”

The droid turned to Khaami, “Nurse, get behind the human female and support her upper body.”

The maid obeyed, and Fesma began to undo Satine’s corset.

“She shouldn’t be wearing that.” the droid observed.

The Duchess heaved a sigh of relief when the tightness left her stomach.

“Spread your legs, please.”

Shaking with the effort, Satine managed to spread her legs.

“If we have any pain relief,” the droid droned, “we should administer it now.”

Fesma stood, “I’ll get some water.”

Satine whimpered as Fesma sped from the room. Khaami rubbed her back.

“Roll up your skirt, please, I need to see my work.”

Satine pulled up her skirt and clenched her hands tightly around the material, hissing as the droid touched its cold fingers to her inner thigh.

“Contractions are progressing nicely,” the droid stated, “you should begin pushing in approximately four point three minutes.”

Satine groaned, the only thing she could feel was pain.

“I’m back!” Fesma announced, shutting the door tightly behind her.

Satine noticed the two water bottles in her ladys’ hands, and the Duchess began to pray.

“This is almost medieval.” Khaami noted as Fesma hand-fed Satine pain relieving pills.

“That will only ease some of the pain.” the medical droid agreed.

“Still,” Fesma frowned, “We agreed to help our lady.”

As the hours progressed, Satine’s throat grew hoarse as her screams grew more violent.

“What time is it?” Khaami questioned.

“Eleven o’clock on the twenty third of Mae Month.” stated the medical droid calmly.

Satine wailed. Fesma, who was assisting the droid with warm hand towels and holding its tools, ducked her head and inhaled sharply.

“What is it?” the Duchess simpered.

“I can see the head, Satine,” Fesma’s face went blank, “it’s a very messy business.”

In response, the droid leaned down and worked silently.

“Push, please.” it beeped cheerfully.

Satine squeezed Khaami’s hands like her life depended on it, and after a tremendous heave and seven quick gasps, Satine had a baby.

“Congratulations, you have a son.”

Bursting into tears, Satine held her arms out. Fesma wiped the baby clean then placed him into his mother’s discarded corset. Khaami leaned over the Duchess’ shoulder and dabbed her eyes.

“Here you go, Satine.” Fesma grinned.

She took the baby in her arms and sniffled, cradling her son’s small body against hers.

“Korkyrach Kryze,” Satine smiled, “it’s wonderful to meet you.”

The baby giggled in response.

“Aw!”

“He should be kept in a blanket.” the droid suggested.

Fesma stood, “I’ll go get one.”

“Bring two!” Satine called, laughing.

The medical droid’s innards began to whirl and soon a piece of paper was ejecting out from its stomach.

“Printing birth certificate.”

Satine stared at Khaami, wide-eyed.

“Please input information correctly,” the droid stated, “it is a felony if you do not.”

“A felony?”

The droid handed Khaami the birth certificate.

“We have to fill this out correctly, Satine,” the lady bit her lip, “we could make a fake one and hide this one in the palace archives.”

Satine looked down at the baby, then nodded.

“I’m back!” Fesma panted.

“Wrap Korkie in the blanket,” Satine ordered, handing Fesma the baby, “we have to fill out the birth certificate.”

“Birth certificate?”

The medical droid beeped and offered Satine a pen. Turning her upper body, the Duchess pressed the sheet against the wall and wrote.

Name: Korkyrach Kryze Date of Birth: 23, Mae, 39 BBY Birth Time: 11:12

Home Planet: Mandalore Mother: Satine Kryze Father: ___________________

Satine’s hand began to shake.

“Why don’t we leave that one blank.” Khaami suggested kindly.

“Something’s wrong,” Satine said suddenly, “it hurts again.”

“Is it the placenta?” Khaami asked, taking the paper and pen from Satine.

The medical droid leaned down and examined its patient.

“Your body is preparing for another birth,” the droid observed, “you’re having twins.”

Satine’s mouth dropped open, then she began to grunt in pain.

“Lay back down,” Khaami suggested, pulling Satine’s shoulders back, “you can do this.”

Fesma offered her lady a quick sip of water before returning to help the medical droid.

“This one’s coming quickly, Satine,” Fesma stated, a mix of shock and fear in her voice, “not much longer.”

The Duchess screamed. Korkie cried, he was back in his mother’s arms now, and Satine was trying not to squeeze him too tight.

Wailing, the Duchess prayed and begged for this to be over soon. Fesma handed the droid a knife.

“One last push, Satine!”

As soon as the Duchess stopped crying, another pair of lungs did.

“Congratulations,” the medical droid beeped, “you have a daughter.”

Fesma wrapped up the baby in the spare blanket and gently placed her in her mother’s arms. Khaami rested her head on Satine’s shoulder.

“Tyra-Satine,” smiled the Duchess, “I think it fits her perfectly.”

Within the next hour, both birth certificates were filled out, and while Khaami helped Satine nurse the babies, Fesma wiped the droid’s memory and began to clean up.

#satine kryze #duchess satine #satine x obiwan #obi wan kenobi #korkie kryze #korkie kenobi #fanfic #obitine

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des-gallagher-production-process · 3 years

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Scene Breakdown

I've gone through analyzing and breaking down each scene in this short film for two main reasons:

1. For my own benefit of seeing purpose within a scene and if any need to be cut or tweaked to become a significant piece of the story.

2. To help my cast and crew in understanding what each scene represents and provides to the story, knowing how to comprehend, approach and treat the scene so everyone is on the same page in knowing what they're making.

I hope to have an animatic done with the storyboard and music picked so far to help further communicate my idea.

Scene 1

Location: To be created in post production

Date and Time: N/A (date and time is irrelevant in this scene)

This opening scene acts as the setting up of rules within this world of an alternate reality, a glitch appears across the opening two shots - indicating that this world has entered a new universe while seeming very much the same as our own reality, there are several major differences that will be noticed throughout the film. I wanted to give the viewer a clear visual of what will set this universe apart from our own and that would be the entire county of Donegal turning from light to pitch darkness (this occurs after the glitch appears across the screen).

Scene 2

Location: Set in a dining room where there is a TV in the corner and a sofa opposite to it with a dining table in the centre of the room.

Date and Time: 3:10 am, 7th May 2019

This scene introduces us to our main protagonist Jack, where he is at the late stages of his college degree and almost ready to go into the real world of media and journalism.

He would sometimes sit up late at night/early morning working on projects when he feels most motivated and creative with no one around to bother him. This would vary from night to night depending on what he had to do the following day, but he would more commonly do this at the weekends.

His routine would include him at his dining room table while having the TV on to a particular channel to act simply as background noise and to sometimes take his mind away from work every so often when he would take a break. One of these channels include an obscure Irish television channel ‘Eire Connect TV’ (based on existing media channels such as Irish TV and Spotlight TV) which includes several shows pertaining to the Irish country music genre and other cultural topics such as fishing, dancing, crafts, traditions and so on. Except he takes joy from the channel on an ironic level where the poor production quality of the shows add a certain element of character, additional entertainment and enjoyment to him as a young cynical technically minded individual that is critical of contemporary media.

We establish that this is Jack’s accommodation and he is sitting up on this particular night at around 3am doing some work on his laptop with 'Eire Connect TV' on in the background,

It's just another regular night for him until suddenly the TV picture starts to become distorted which Jack begins to notice, unsure of what to make of the strange series of images appearing on screen, he records the TV with his phone. With this channel positioned at the back of the TV listings, there wouldn't be a huge number of people watching the channel even at peak day time viewing, anyone else witnessing this along with Jack in the middle of the night would be a highly unlikely scenario.

With a short rough recording saved to his phone, Jack wouldn’t know who exactly to share this with at this particular time. For the sake of avoiding repetition and to also keep the viewer interested in the film, I decided not to clearly show or reveal what exactly was shown on TV until a later scene.

Scene 3

Location: Outside of the Co Lab building that will be acting as a Dundalk based location.

Date and Time: 9:24 am, 16th August 2019

Several months later we see Jack making his way to work in his new start up production company with his friends after they graduated from their college course and now trying to break into the professional field of media. They have rented out an office space in a collaborative working building which is where this exterior scene is set.

Jack walks past a bulletin board with a sheet pinned on it with a graphic of a bus route printed on it, except on this map Donegal is faded out from the map and there are no routes displayed to be going to the northwest county. This visual acts as a further hint to what kind of world these characters are living in where images such as these are normal to come by. When Jack enters the office door, there is an A4 sheet with a company logo printed on it taped onto the door.

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twilitty · 3 years

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Moonlit ch.2

This is the second chapter in my new fic Moonlit, it will be posted on Tumblr, ao3, and ffnet. New chapters uploaded every week and a half. Message/comment to be added to my tag list.

3.9k words

previous chapter

big thank you to my beta reader @effervescentlyirrevocable who has given me the absolute best criticism and helped make this chapter so beautiful :)

Bella Swan is introduced to a possible new friend and receives a gift. The doctors new family may not be as well adjusted to small town life as Charlie would like.

Chapter Two

The next morning I wake up to a growl of thunder beating against the inside of my skull. I had a night of thankfully restful sleep for once, only waking up to get a glass of water. My hands are clasped against my chest, fingers knotted in annoyance as I hold back what likely will be a spill of expletives. Why must there always be noise? Why can I not sleep soundly and awake soundly, just once?

I open one eye experimentally, hoping the sun has already arisen and I won’t be missing out on any leftover sleep. My room is shrouded in darkness. The expletives, swear words crude enough to make a priest gag, spill out in a muttered breath and my hands squeeze against each other once more before reaching for my alarm clock. The red numbers blink back at me and it takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the light before I read the time. Nine in the morning. I look back to the window where my blinds are drawn closed, but still no light, even filtered through the canopy of clouds, peaks at the edges.

The thunder, which had gone quiet after waking me up initially, rolls again for a moment before silencing itself. Only, was it thunder? It sounded heavy, like machinery but with a deeper growl. Was there construction nearby? I didn’t recall any on my few trips up and down the street, and I question why there would need to be any construction anyways. It’s not as if this is a booming neighbourhood with a subdivision being built.

Charlie knocks against my door, quieter than yesterday. “Bella, it’s time to get up.” You’d imagine that with my age being nearly twenty and my status as a legal adult I’d be allowed to choose my own time to wake up. My annoyance dies down quickly when my thoughts bounce back to Phoenix, waking up early each morning to drive Mom into her early morning classes. Nine in the morning really isn’t that early, in fact, it allows me time to get some chores done before class. “Someone has dropped by.”

My lips contort into an annoyed pucker. Who would have stopped by? Mom had warned me before the move that nothing but rumours and nasty mold comes from Forks. Apparently her quick marriage to Charlie, and even quicker pregnancy with me, was enough gossip to fuel conversations for years. I remember a trip to Forks at eight years old, a woman had stopped my mother in the grocery store and asked her over for coffee. “They just want the inside scoop,” Renee had told me afterwards, “Give them anything and they’ll find a way to make it ugly.”

My bare feet brush the ground and a flash of cold spreads up my shins. Apparently, even in spring, the weather is dangerously cold. I tell Charlie I’ll be downstairs in a moment, pulling on a pair of jeans and thermal socks. I was hoping for a relaxing day alone, just me, my sweatpants, and the laptop. I compromise on the socks, regardless of who is downstairs, my toes will not be cold today.

I pull the blinds open, the lawn stretching out beside the house is bathed in shadowy darkness despite the morning hour. The forest that lines our property, secluding us from the neighbours, is eerie and mysterious. The green tones that I initially found alien and too bright are now gone and replaced with navy. I wait a moment, staring into the trees, my thoughts rambling into fairytale imaginations.

My brain conjures an image of a man, tall and insidious, stepping out of the tree line, long claws attached to his fingers and a nasty grin revealing pointed teeth. His shirt is ripped in the front, a long tear reaching from throat to navel and from inside the shirt tufts of hair stick out. No, not hair, fur. He growls menacingly.

I close the blinds quickly and blink against the pictures my brain throws at me.

The landline rings downstairs and startles me, a jolt of anxious adrenaline surging through my cold feet and up into my heart. Maybe one of the reasons I enjoyed Phoenix’s barren, plain landscape was that I would not be subjected to such terrible thoughts. I remember being twelve and watching Scream with my mother, she was on a horror movie kick and had rented a whole stack of DVDs for us to watch. That night when I was tired but my eyes refused to close as I didn’t want to imagine what could be lurking outside my bedroom window. Crawling into my mother’s bed, she ran her warm palm against my forehead and hummed a song until I calmed down.

“Bella,” she had said quietly, the nurturing lilt of her voice expanding my heart, “We live in a desert. You can see for miles and miles and miles, if some bad man was coming we’d see him from forty minutes away.” I giggled quietly into the comforter, our bodies pressed against each other in near sleep and my mother’s hands maneuvering through my hair with expertise.

Now, I look out at the grassy lawn from a crack between the blinds. It resembles the set of a slasher movie, the forest borders it with every possibility my imagination can muster. I can see a man from four seconds away, not forty minutes.

There's a chorus of male laughter from below and I sigh, assuming this is my cue to go downstairs and meet with whoever has stopped in.

Charlie is sitting in the living room, facing me and his back to the television which is decidedly blank. On the couch is a head of glossy, black hair. Beside him is a wheelchair with an older man sitting in it, a mug clasped between dark hands. I curse whatever forces brought these strangers into the house so early, I am not in the mood for interaction. I was hoping for a bowl of oatmeal and a quiet morning.

“Hey!” Charlie braces his hands on his knees and pushes out of the armchair. His face is split in half with a grin. I can’t recall him smiling this large in the past week of my stay. The two men turn, facing me with warm smiles.

One of them is older, perhaps Charlie's age, his mouth creased with smile lines and his eyes wrinkled with sun damage. His skin is a warm russet brown, his eyes deep-set behind pronounced brows and a large smile. Bright white teeth stare back at me as my brain picks over his features, how do I know this man? I know almost immediately that he’s Quileute, from the Reservation to the west of town. I vaguely remember trips to the beach with Charlie and eating hotdogs over fires with some of the children from the area.

“Do you remember me, Bella?” He asks in a deep, commanding tone. His voice transports me back to the beach, collecting colourful rocks with the other kids and being called to dinner. Billy Black. He lives in a small, red house with a large kitchen perfect for gatherings. He’s older than I remember, but my last time being here for any substantial time was nearly four years ago.

“Dad, c’mon,” the boy says with a sarcastic eye roll. He stands from the couch, his height towering mine by a few inches and his broad shoulders slumped forward happily. I wonder how tall he’d be if he stood to his full height. His voice is deep, not as deep as his father’s, but still an indicator of the family resemblance. Where his father is strong and sure, this boy is aloof and casual. Jacob Black. “She hasn’t been back in ages, she probably blocked your nasty attitude out of her memory.”

I bite back a smile, but Billy laughs and shoots Charlie a look that says, kids, am I right? I step forward and extend my hand to Jacob, who takes it gratefully in his own and gives a soft shake. His hand covers mine and is most definitely a few degrees warmer than I am. “Jacob Black, we used to make mud pies together.”

“Best in town,” Charlie adds in from the back of the room. I smile.

“No, no, I remember you guys,” I tell the Blacks. “It just took me a moment.” Charlies sits back down in his chair and motions for me to take a seat.

“Billy and Jake just stopped by,” my father explains. I sit beside Jacob on the couch, a cushion between us. But, even with the provided space and the lack of physical contact, I feel heat come off of him in waves like a radiator. I wonder if he’s sick. “Jake here is a mechanic.” A furious blush settles under the boy's brown skin as his mechanical skills are brought up, this is my first time hearing of his expertise. I remember his sisters being twins, both tall and beautiful with matching smiles. They were almost two years older than me, Jacob had followed closely behind and was only born in the same six months as me. Of course, now that I try to remember, the date falls short in my memory. It’s possible he has a career as a mechanic somewhere on the Reservation, but he mustn’t work in Forks. I hadn’t seen a single mechanics garage in town.

“No, no,” he looks between me and my father with an apologetic smile, “it’s just a hobby. Something for fun.” Billy tsks at his son, shaking his head in a way that makes me believe this conversation has occurred before.

“Hobbies can bring in money, hobbies can turn into jobs,” the older man says with a scolding tone. Jacob just shakes his head crookedly, not responding. Charlie takes this as his cue to interrupt the trajectory of the conversation, and I’m grateful. I haven’t spoken to these men in nearly four years, that last place I want to be is in the middle of a family feud.

“Well, now, there was a reason I brought up Jake’s skills,” Charlie interjects with a wave at the large boy next to me. “Bells, go take a look outside.” My fingers twitch anxiously in my lap at being thrust into the center of the conversation. I was hoping I could slide under the radar here, not end up in the middle of it.

It takes great restraint for me to get up from the couch and not stumble over my ankles in the act, my clumsiness reaches new heights when I’m being watched by a room of people. Even if there are only three people in the room. The window at the end of the room is open, the curtains pulled to the side, and when I reach it my gaze falls on a group of kids biking down the street with a rainbow of helmets. Apparently, the dark sky doesn’t scare them the way it does me.

They pedal quickly, little screams of delight just barely audible through the thick glass of the living room window. They pass the porch and disappear behind a large red truck parked out front of the house. I blink. It’s still there, rounded fenders and shiny door handles, long bed, ancient grill adorning the hood. It’s beautiful. “Is that your truck, Billy?” There’s a chorus of laughter behind me, the men’s baritones mixing and producing a flaming blush starting at my neck and creeping up into my face. I turn to look at them, my stomach clenching as I turn away from the beautiful vehicle. “What?”

“It’s yours, Bella,” Charlie tells me. The breath I was holding leaves my lungs through my gaping mouth, I struggle to close it and take an experimental inhale. “Bella?” I turn and look back out the window, the glorious truck still sits there staring at me from across the dark lawn. I can only imagine how beautiful it is in the sunlight.

“I- it’s mine?” I ask. Another series of laughs echo through and then footsteps come up beside me, Jacob stands looking out the window. “You made it?” I question, looking up at him.

His shoulders shake silently and his lips press together as he tries to compose himself, I’m not sure why he finds my comment so funny but it reignites my blush. “I fixed it up, yeah. But, don’t get too excited. The thing runs at sixty miles max, push her further than that and you’ll be walking home.”

We all go outside quickly, me leading the pack with an excited skip in my step. It’s a miracle I didn’t fall on my face or stumble over my words as I spoke my thoughts aloud. “It’s so pretty, I love it! Jake, I have no idea how you could make it look so perfect.” The truck sits against the curb, its red paint flaking in places around the tires, but even more perfect than I could have imagined.

The sky is a disturbing shade of grey, a fact that irritates me more outside than it did in the house. Why does the weather have to ruin such a perfectly good moment? But I spend the majority of my time on the vehicle, petting its sides carefully like I might damage it. Finally, seemingly having had enough of me quietly admiring the vehicle, Billy tells me to hop in and check it out on the inside.

Jacob produces a set of keys, no automatic locking mechanism, and twists it in the truck's door handle. He holds the door open for me, producing a hand to help me in. I take it gratefully, stepping up into the driver’s seat and letting myself sink into the seat. Jacob closes the door on me, but my thoughts are lost and focused only on how much I love this truck.

“So,” he says after opening the passenger door and climbing up next to me, “You ever driven a truck before?” I shake my head, fingers curving experimentally around the thin steering wheel. I can see myself now: driving down the empty highway, the sun blinding against the dry pavement, window down and hair blowing, radio blaring. It’s exactly what I needed, a way for me to get around without needing to borrow the cruiser (which, yes, is illegal) or have Charlie drive me around.

“I can give you lessons,” Jake offers, fingers clasped in his lap, drumming a tune against the opposite knuckles. “If not that’s cool, but she drives a little funny.” “She?” I ask, eyes leaving the steering wheel momentarily to watch his face. He notices, the serene expression dropping from his face and replaced with a quick upturn of his lips.

“Uh, yeah.” He palms the back of his neck roughly and seems almost apologetic. “I have a thing for cars, y’know, so naming them is kinda part of the deal.” I can barely make out a faint red tinge over his cheeks. “Wait, hold on,” I can’t contain the giggle that slips out but firmly press my lips together before trying again. I can only imagine the toothy smile I’m giving him, a girl all too excited over some old truck. Only, this is the perfect old truck. “What’s her name?”

“Betty,” he responds sheepishly, his hand still massaging the back of his neck. “But if you tell anybody that I’ll have to kill you.”

“That’s okay, Betty is our secret.”

And, just like that, I now have a secret with someone. Does this make us friends? Regardless of whatever it makes us, my heart sings happily from within my chest, excited to think that maybe Forks won’t be as lonesome as it’s been this past week. Maybe Jacob and I will become friends and bond over Betty and I won’t only have Charlie and school and books.

“Well, before you accept her turn the keys,” Jacob instructs. I oblige, setting the keys in the ignition and giving them a gentle twist. A roar of mechanical thunder envelopes us. I nearly leap out of my seat in surprise, the loud rumbling of the engine settling in my ears and blocking out all other noises. Jake says something but I can barely hear him from over the thunderous growl of Betty. I turn the keys back and the truck dies down with one last rumble. “She’s loud,” he says obviously.

“She’s perfect.”

Jacob hands me a spare set of keys after we get out, telling me that he’ll be back the day after tomorrow to give me my first driving lesson in the truck. Charlie was all too excited with that idea, even though I already have my license and know how to drive. In fact, other than illegally borrowing the cruiser with Charlie’s permission, I have never committed an illegal act involving a vehicle. If memory serves me correctly, Charlie has two speeding tickets from his youth.

But, I don’t argue against Jake's offer. In fact, I thank him profusely and promise to pay him for the lessons. “Bella,” he says in an exasperated way, as if we’ve known each other for years and I always say such supposedly outlandish things. “Why would you pay me for something I’m offering to you?”

We’ve stopped in front of the Blacks vehicle, a large brown and beige truck which seems to only be a decade newer than the red one. This isn’t saying much for the brown vehicle as the red one could be from the fifties. Billy is wheeling his way down the driveway with Charlie walking beside him, laughing emphatically at something his friend had said.

“That’s crazy,” I respond with a shake of my head. “That’s like me not paying you for the truck.”

“Yeah, I know.” I take pause at this, the words welling up inside my brain and the meaning lost to me for only a moment. Then, like finally finding the missing puzzle piece under the table, I understand what this means and the picture is clear.

“You- I- This truck isn’t free.” The words stutter out of me, the first two the beginnings of messages I abandoned immediately after starting them. This truck, though old, is not cheap, and neither is Jakes’s skill. I should pay him for labour if nothing else, but I know he doesn’t want to include that in the bill. He doesn't want to send me a bill.

“It’s a gift,” he states simply with a shrug of his wide shoulders. Billy pulls up beside me, slapping away Charlie's hand as he tries to adjust his chair for him.

“Careful, Swan,” the older Black warns with hostility. “I have more muscle in these arms than you do in your entire body. Touch the chair and you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

Jacob helps Billy into the passenger seat, folding up the wheelchair and securing it into the truck bed with quick hands. Charlie stands beside me, shooting fiery threats back and forth with his friend until Jacob climbs behind the wheel. “Storm coming through,” Jacob says with a wave towards the dark sky. “If you need any help with anything, tying stuff down or moving let me know.” Charlie thanks him for the offer and I lean in to thank him again for the truck and the lessons. I also assure him that the argument over billing is far from over and that he’ll get an earful the next time we meet.

The rest of the day is spent restlessly. I log into my online classes but my attention is continuously claimed by my truck in front of the house. The sun never shows itself, content with hiding behind the cloud coverage. I’m sitting in the living room when Charlie gets home for dinner, my book discarded on the couch somewhere beside me. I reach for it once I see his cruiser pull into the driveway, deciding it would be better to look busy than to look like I’m obsessing over my new means of transportation.

“Bella?” He calls, the door shutting behind him with a creak. At some point I’ll have to oil all the hinges in the house. It’s that or I go clinically insane from the constant noise.

“Yeah, just in here.”

He comes in bearing a brown bag with the Forks Diner logo written on the side. “I brought dinner, it’ll be on the stove.” I nod and thank him, telling him that we can eat together once he’s down and out of uniform. “Well, actually, I won’t be eating until a bit later.” His moustache twitches irritably and he disappears into the kitchen to drop the food off.

“Are you meeting with Billy?” I ask, knowing this isn’t the case. It must be an issue with work causing him to feel stressed. And when he comes back into the living room from the kitchen I’m able to see the tension holding his shoulders in place. “Did something happen at work?” “It’s nothing to worry about,” he assures me, but his words do anything but. So much for police chief being a boring job. “Just those new kids in town, the doctors children,” he waves a hand in the air as if trying to gather his thoughts. “Kicking up trouble in their first week here, something about racing.”

“Oh.” I pull my knees under me and turn to face him fully, my arms hanging over the back of the couch like a child.

“Anyways, no big deal I’m sure they’re just used to city life or something.” But, my fathers tone indicates that he most definitely does not believe his own words. In Charlie's books a bad apple is always a bad apple, and he’s probably dreading all the other trouble these kids will kick up. “I’ve just gotta go check-in with them, make sure it doesn’t happen again.” His hand moves towards my arm, as if to pat me goodbye but it stutters midair, falling back to his side awkwardly.

I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, biting on it as he mutters a goodbye and leaves through the front door without looking at me again. I wonder when this will get any easier.

Renee left Charlie a year into their young marriage, taking me away to live with her in Arizona. She had given me partial reasons over the years for her leaving, talking of them being too young, the weather too wet, how she wanted a life where she could be free from responsibilities. I’m not sure whether it dawned on her that a child constitutes a responsibility, but she took me to every yoga class and rarely left me with a babysitter.

My mother was never too keen on Forks, not that I fault her for it, the weather leaves much to be desired and there’s virtually nothing to do. But, because of her disliking I rarely visited my father, my first extended visit being when I was twelve and stayed the entire summer as Renee travelled with her then-boyfriend. I came back to a scrapbook of kissy photos and pressed leaves from her travels, all I had to show for my trip was a runny nose and a strong distaste for hamburgers. One can only eat so many burgers before the novelty wears off.

taglist: @musingsofvenus @maybesandohnos

#twilight #edward cullen #bella swan #jasper #the twilight saga #carlisle #twilight saga #smeyer #2008 #twilight renaissance #fanfic #jacob/Bella #Bella/Jacob #Jacob x Bella #Bella x Jacob #twilight fanfiction #twilight fanfic #mine

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rorodawnchorus · 3 years

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The Devil Judge, Ep.1 Meta

(On the re-imagined justice process, imageries, parallels in South Korea and our world today)

As with all dystopian fiction, it is not exactly a far-fetched imagining of our world. Instead, it is a critique of our society which seeks to amplify the inequalities and suffering of society through some exaggeration.

The Devil Judge is that: it "re-imagines" South Korea today with a sprinkle of cyberpunk aesthetics (a little too much bluish green tint) and dystopian imagery (of homeless people, a very dirty subway and dingy backalleys on a rainy night).

I kept thinking it was a dystopian "future" but was wondering why they were using only Samsung Note 20 instead of some Samsung futuristic prototype phone. So, those phones do keep audiences grounded in the reality it is portraying -- this is the alternative South Korea of today.

We are barely halfway into the first episode and we've got this extremely charismatic, anti-hero male lead strutting red carpets and making verbose declarations like "I am the power. By the judicial authority delegated to me by the people of Korea, I will run this court. And it is the people who hold this power." (Not verbatim but that's the gist).

Then, meet associate judge Kim Ga-On who seems to be against how the system is running. He seems to be the outlier who rose to his ranks from the bottom class of society (which his colleague Oh Jin-joo says, he looks like he's from the shanty town of Seoul). We start off, barely into the drama at this point, with a dramatic scene of a kindergarten bus ramming down barricades and charging towards the Court building. A group of kindergarten children crossing the road there (I've just no clue what businses kids would have near the court building tbh). A little girl tripping as they were rushed across the road, Ga-On jumping to the rescue, and unable to pick her up in time, shields her with his own body. Kang Yo Han is just there, taking a heavy gun from the guard and unhesitantly opened fire at the bus driver who was flooring the pedal. He misses the driver's head and hits the headrest before firing again. The bus swerves and flips. The driver loses consciousness and Ga On (again!) jumps to the rescue. So, here the tone is set. We've got this "devil judge" who seems to be the ultimate modern day anti-hero who's given immense amount of power.

Much more interesting is that in this dystopian South Korea, we've got what seems like a publicly elected judiciary (or Kang Yo Han is perhaps the first?) and that has always been something that has been discussed in legal academic. Not the idea of electing the judiciary but that the argument of the judiciary not being publicly elected can be seen as slightly out of tune with democracy. (In legal academic, however, this is theoretically seen as being balanced by the separation of powers; ie. the executive branch (=government) and elected members of Parliament/Congress are supposed to be fully separated from the judiciary and should therefore never interfere with the judiciary. But, of course, these are all theoretical stuff. They look good on paper and when discussed in legal essays but in reality, it can often be different (if not, the exact opposite). This series takes things to yet another level by imagining the inception of a publicly televised and publicly voted trial.

This goes against the nature of trials in general because in our world today, the judiciary (wherever it may be) typically have mechanisms (ie. laws and codes) to prevent manipulation by media. The principle of fair trial requires that no external influence affects the process of adjudication (ie. the judgement by judges). There also tends to be avoidance of trial by public opinion because the way the law is interpreted and applied can be rather technical and different from what people may say or think about a certain trials, the decision delivered and also sentencing. Trial by jury is the nearest it gets but that too can be a fairly technical process which do also include considerations like avoiding a two-day trial to prevent influence by the media or other agents on a jury member's decision. (A recent drama mentioning this is Law School). The thing about this idea of trial by the public is that standards of morality can be very subjective and varies from person to person. Judgement by judges are not entirely free from the influence of morality, but the process is a litle more stable through the processes of interpretative practices, case precedents and legal theories. Previously in another Kdrama, Miss Hammurabi (2018), Judge Lim Ba-reun became slightly frustrated by his friend's comment that having a jury trial is like "true democracy" because the "people gets to decide" and he even thinks the judiciary should be elected too. Lim Ba-reun sarcastically said he must have loved every elected politican since they were elected by the public. He tells him grimly that no jury has ever found a policeman who had beaten up a Black man to be guilty. He also pointed out that Nazi, the Holocaust and Hitler were all supported by the public.

In this series, the premise allows all of these imaginings to be realised and played out. It is peak criticism, I think, when they portray the scenes of the TV producer being excited about the real-time ratings and viewer ratings. And also the scene of the broadcasting channel's chairman dancing in joy when he received realtime report of the ratings (vowing to treat his equally wealthy friends to a meal). Even when his other friend seemed appalled by the decision delivered by Judge Kang, the Chairman could not hide his joy in the skyrocketing viewership ratings. This really reminded me of the entire Produce 101 franchise which also heralded the shows for putting the decision in "The Nation's Producers" (ie. voters) and emphasised how it is the Nation Producers who put together ("produce") the National Kpop group that is bound for success and set to receive national love. All of this illusion collapsed (and the Korean franchise died along with it) when the court finds its producers guilty of voting manipulation. The Devil Judge seemed to have a similarly dramatic flair in its emphasis of TV production gimmicks, camera angles, cuts of a person's reaction, etc. The President of South Korea (who has a very light voice, a penchant for orotund speeches and a lack of concern for national policies) and all these top 1% of people tuned in were on the edge of their seats watching Judge Kang orchestrate this theatre of public trial. Kim Ga-On watched him closely and was sure that Judge Kang had something up his sleeves and was definitely up to no good, yet he couldn't tell. When he finally delivers a verdict (that yes, this was a case of professional negligence and not negligent homicide), Ga-On was crestfallen and frustrated because it carries a mere 5 year imprisonment maximum. But Kang turns the table and brings up the newly passed legislation which allows accumulative sentence which then resulted in 235 years of imprisonment.

This sounded very much like how some Korean netizens had previously wondered (online) why Korea couldn't have a sentencing system like the US where the years of imprisonment can go up to 100 years or 500 years. Again, this was like realising an alternative South Korea that many have perhaps tried imagining. Episode 1 ends with Judge Kang stepping down from his high seat when a victim's family member bowed deeply with her hands clasped, as though in prayer, and even kneeled to him. This corresponded well and tied perfectly into the religious/godlike imagery represented in the justice's robes which is reminiscent of the pope's robes and resembles a priest's robe, and the app they named DIKE or Diety of Justice (正義의 神). When Judge Kang hugs the old woman with a compassionate smile, teary eyed and full of empathy, he ends up yawning barely a minute into consoling the weeping woman. Ga-On witnesses this and realises, all of this must have been a gimmick after all. He had his hopes up when Judge Kang serves the sentence of 235 years. The episode ends.

I think this series is set to be a great one. (Just as Law School was amazing too!) It has tons of stuff to unpack, lots that goes into the cinematography and camerawork. While characters do seem a little more like caricatures rather than realistic people that are properly fleshed out in the narrative, there is still promise to push beyond these caricatures. I think there is also a lot in the imagery of dystopia and the constant bombardment of messages from the government (which is often the mainstay of dystopian fiction) which emphasises a certain narrative which they want the people to believe. For example, Kim Ga-On is travelling up the escalator when there were ads of the DIKE app, ads on electronic billboards on the justice system, paper posters plastered in the dark backalley where a high school girl is being dragged away by two men saying "The government will now create a safe South Korea". That last one is perhaps the most glaring one to me because when I was in Korea, it was repeated to me by different Korean individuals: "Your things are safe. No Korean will steal it. (Not sure about foreigners though!) You are safe. Crimes don't happen. I checked and there are no sexual offenders living in this neighbourhood." But... spycams can be anywhere. Men secretly follow women to their homes and try to break into them. Sexual harassment can happen anywhere. Robbery and theft can happen.

Personally, my paranoia and anxiety won't ever let me believe such words. No narrative, self-made or otherwise, can convince me enough to think that I am in a safe place. I would always have a nagging thought at the back of my mind telling me danger can be lurking just about anywhere. I think Koreans today do have high levels of confidence in their country. Most people do think it is safe to be walking around in the dead of night without any worry. (Again, I do not quite share the sentiment.) But this is a kind of self-made narrative because I also know my countrymen who travel to other countries like the UK and say "I feel absolutely safe walking the streets in the dead of night while I won't feel the same in my own country" when those are simply ideas they've planted into themselves through the mindset that [This country is better than my country and therefore safer.] There is absolutely no correlation between a "better" country and crime rates (or potential of becoming a victim of crime). Not to mention, being an Asian in a Western country sets you up as a likelier victim of hate crime...

So, I was saying.... This narrative of "safe Korea" is already existing in South Korea today. The need for mass surveillance or a spycam detecting task force in public toilets don't add up with a "safe country" image but the sentiment planted into the people seems to be strong despite all of this. However, Koreans do call South Korea "Hell Joseon". Youth unemployment can be a concern is a country like South Korea and a graying population, increasinly empty gray towns like the one mentioned in the series are all concerns which are ever-present in the public conscious. The mention of plauge and unemployment too must be a major concern now. In a rather similar vein, this narrative of DIKE or trial by the public through app voting creates a sentiment that people can take into their own hands and deliver justice. But what about the people at the margins of society who are homeless and do not own smartphones? What is this concept of democracy that places power in the hands of people? Is it a mere illusion or is power really in the hands of people?

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(A side note on how the indicted chairman of the company responsible for mass poisoning of an entire town had brushed off concerns about a failing filtration system and the move of industrial plants to Southeast Asia. As a Southeast Asian, it is also something on my mind how South Korea has moved out of China and moved most of its plants to Southeast Asia for cheap labour. But what about the pollution here, the appallingly low wages they pay Southeast Asians (both white and blue collars!) in comparison to the few Korean expat managerial staff or engineers they station out here? I remember how I was at the hospital at 2 am and a small group of blue collar workers in their work uniform came in with their injured colleague; this can only mean they were at work past midnight due to some accident and we are still in the midst of the pandemic. What kinds of welfare and benefits are these blue collars provided with?)

#The Devil Judge #Park Jinyoung #Jisung #악마판사

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