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artemis-entreri · 3 years

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Hey! So I'm listening to Starlight Enclave... How much has changed in Menzoberranzan since timeless? House Baenre no longer worships Lolth? What the hell?! Just how badly has Bob fucked us?! Why Wizards still bothers with him I'll never know.

[[ Hey there, happy new year! Sorry about the late response, my life is always crazy busy. XD;;

A lot has changed since Timeless, but sadly most if not all of it is lazy worldbuilding (or more accurately, worlddestroying). I'll explain in more detail below, but in short, Bob has always gone over the top in making his mark on the Forgotten Realms. His mark has never been attractive, the metaphor that I like to use is that he's using a giant sharpie marker and writing his name in giant ugly black letters over an intricate piece of art that many creators wove together. With the changes and "lore" he's introducing in Starlight Enclave, he's put down his marker and taken up a giant paintbrush, dipped it in the ugliest color you can think of, and painting over everything with his name in lettering more annoying than Comic Sans font. More detailed version under the cut, which contains spoilers.

So, to answer your question, Quenthel Baenre, the Matron Mother of House Baenre, no longer worships Lolth. It’s unclear how the rest of her house feels, but since they’ve taken on a bunch of drow that are also soured on Lolth, the majority of House Baenre doesn’t worship Lolth. This came about in Relentless, beginning with Kimmuriel coming to this amazing revelation at the illithid hivemind that Lolth is a “disease”. He delved into the memories of Quenthel and Yvonnel 2.0, both of whom had the memories of Yvonnel the Eternal (aka Yvonnel 1.0) implanted into their brains. Yvonnel 1.0 was supposedly there when the drow first went underground, so she had firsthand knowledge of what life was like before Lolth. Kimmuriel used these memories to show Quenthel and Yvonnel 2.0 of those “better times”, and talked them into realizing how Lolth has been nothing but damaging to the drow.

Meanwhile, the CotH and their allies were losing a war against (yet another) drow surface invasion. This time, it’s because the latest drow fanatic priestess had literally every drider that were ever sent to Lolth in her army, she pulled all of them out of the Demonweb Pits with the help of two rogue yochlol. Quenthel wasn’t liking how things were turning out even though she still worshipped Lolth at this point because she was concerned that House Baenre’s status would fall if the Melarni priestess succeeded in her surface takeover. She went to the surface to try to snatch the glory for herself, but then ran into the Melarni forces and got delegated to playing a supporting role.

This is what eventually led Quenthel to the CotH + allies and made her willing to allow Kimmuriel to enter her mind. Following Kimmuriel’s completion of his talk no jutsu, Quenthel and Yvonnel 2.0 made a magic web that undid all sorts of evil enchantments with no specifications on what it can’t undo. The driders realized that going through this web turned them back into drow, so they abandoned the fighting and all ran through it, getting turned back into drow. House Baenre then adopted these drow and went back to Menzoberranzan.

So, what’s incredibly stupid about this is, well, everything, and I plan to talk about it in detail when I do my Relentless analysis, so I won’t do so here. Suffice to say, Quenthel and Yvonnel 2.0 have ALWAYS had those memories, they just for some indeterminable reason never chose to examine them. For Quenthel, sure, we can say she’d have just dismissed it as heresy, but Yvonnel 2.0 who’s now in love with Drizzt and desperate to do anything she can to please him would surely have looked at those memories and have gone AHA! Then, there’s the size of the drider force, which is entirely too small for how many driders were sent to the Demonweb Pits. The drow turned a ton of their kind into driders, not to mention driders of other origins that went to Lolth. I don’t remember the exact details but when we discussed this on Candlekeep, we’d determined that Relentless had the number of driders off by at least an order of magnitude. Then, there’s that web of total decursing, the last thing that Bob needed was yet another deus ex machina, but of course he had to go and do it because he’s too lazy to organically/logically bring about events. Pwent goes through it and boom! His vampirism is cured. Artemis throws his dagger through it and boom! It’s purified of all the souls it’s ever taken and in doing so, has redeemed him.

And of course, there’s the ultimate stupid in Bob completely dismantling established drow lore that has prevailed for basically as long as drow have existed, replacing it with total garbage. To make a long story short, Lolth, who was originally known as Araushnee, was the wife of Corellon Larethian, the god of all elves. Araushnee lusted after Corellon’s power and plotted to kill him, however she failed, and she and her people were exiled to the darkness. Araushnee was transformed into a demon and banished. Angry about her defeat, she made one last attempt on Corellon’s life but failed again. Corellon let her escape because despite all that she’d done to him, he still loved her. Araushnee took on the name Lolth and conquered the 66th layer of the Abyss for herself. Her followers, the Ilythiiri dark elves, were transformed into drow, and with traits that made it difficult for them to live aboveground, they went into the Underdark.

Araushnee and Corellon had two children, twins Vhaeraun and Eilistraee. Vhaeraun aided his mother in her attempts to overthrow his father, so he was banished as well. Eilistraee was spared this punishment because she had not behaved traitorously, but she willingly took the curse upon herself so that she could follow the exiled drow. She willingly let herself be cut off from the elven paradise and her kin because she foresaw that the drow would have nothing but darkness, with only Lolth to guide them.

There’s a lot more to that story, but Bob decided that his version is better, so he made it so that Yvonnel’s firsthand memory was that none of the above ever happened. Instead, Yvonnel remembers a different story, that the drow were tired of the haughtiness and unwelcoming surface societies and chose to go underground in search of greener pastures. They didn’t find them and as time went on, forgot their original intent, but Kimmuriel helps Quenthel and Yvonnel 2.0 remember that original intent. Then, in Starlight Enclave, Bob has it so that the aevendrow are part of the original group of drow but didn’t decide to go underground, and that their records are from way back then as well. He makes it so that their records correlate exactly with Quenthel’s memory. Just like that, he retcons an intricate story, profaning all of it and especially the beauty of Eilistraee’s sacrifice.

So, there you have it. You’ll have to decide for yourself how badly Bob has fucked us. As for why WotC bothers with him? I suspect it’s a combination of that most of them have never actually read any of the Drizzt books, and that they’ve sunk so much money into him to make him a cash cow that they don’t want to do that with someone else, instead preferring to take the easy route of milking the cow until it runs dry. Such a shame really, a company like that should realize what following the easy route too much does, but you know what they say about money. ]]

#Forgotten Realms #legend of drizzt #drow #ama #ooc

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phantasticworks · 4 years

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baby blue and bubblegum pink

hello! this is just a little domestic fic i wrote after hearing the discussion of painting nails that dnp had in the stereo live the other day. enjoy!

When Phil walks into the lounge after a long video editing session, his nose is attacked by a sharp, chemically smell. It takes him a second to place the scent, as it’s been a while since he’s actually smelled it in their flat. He finds Dan on the sofa in the lounge, leaning over and stroking a tiny brush carefully over his toenails with a sparkly black varnish. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, and Phil feels a little sympathetic for the way he’s contorted himself to reach his foot, propped on a precarious stack of boxes in front of him.

“How was the zoom call?” Phil asks, settling on the arm of the sofa.

Dan jumps, streaking polish across at least three toes. “Phil!” He screeches.

Phil bites his lip, trying to hide his laugh. “Sorry, babe, I thought you heard me come in.”

“Fuck,” Dan swears as he looks at his foot. “No, sorry, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Phil drops a hand to Dan’s shoulder and kneads gently, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “Sorry,” he says again.

“‘S fine,” Dan mumbles. “Can you grab me a napkin or something?”

Nodding, Phil disappears into the kitchen, returning a moment later with the requested napkin. “Here,” he says, crouching down and batting Dan’s hand out of the way to wipe away the stray nail polish. “They look good,” he says, voice full of soft admiration.

“Thanks,” Dan says, a proud smile on his face. “I figured, you know... we talked about this on the live so it kinda just got me in the mood.”

“Right,” Phil says, clearing his throat. His eyes keep wandering back to be nail polish though, and he can’t decide if what he’s feeling is just genuine appreciation for how good his boyfriend looks or if it’s something more. “So how’d the zoom thing go with your editor?”

Dan rolls his eyes and huffs, leaning back and capping the polish, evidently finished. “God, it was such a waste of time. He told me I was being too picky about font size. Like, it’s my book! If I want it to be 13 points, then let it be 13 points!” He continues bitching, even as Phil drops to sit cross-legged in front of him, taking one of Dan’s feet in hand and massaging. It takes him a few minutes, but eventually Dan pauses his rant to look down, his toes flexing with the way Phil is digging his thumbs into the arch of his foot. “That feels so fucking good,” he says, almost a moan.

“Yeah?” Phil asks, grinning. He loves this, making Dan feel good. It’s not even about sex, right now. It’s just seeing that he can give his partner this comfort at the end of a long day, and seeing it being so appreciated.

“Yeah, babe,” Dan says, shifting so that he’s more comfortable on the sofa. “Mm, careful with my toes, though, they’re still a bit wet.”

Phil had almost forgotten about that.

Almost.

He drops his gaze to the shiny polish adorning Dan’s toenails, inspecting closely. They’re not perfect, and honestly the ones on his right foot look a little fucked, but it’s still so pretty. Without really making the conscious decision to do so, Phil blows gently on the toes, intending on helping them dry quicker.

“Uh, Phil?” Dan asks, his voice a breath away from laughter. “Alright there, mate?”

Phil looks him, and he knows his face is a little flushed. “I just thought I’d- they’ll dry faster,” he says defensively.

Dan studies him for a moment, his head tilting. “Okay, sure,” he agrees eventually. “Thank you.” He leans down to pet Phil’s hair. It feels weirdly romantic.

With Dan’s permission, Phil continues blowing air at the nail polish, probably long after they’ve actually dried. Dan silently offers his other foot, probably more for the foot massage than the drying system, if Phil had to guess. Still, he spends a few moments blowing on those toenails as well before pressing his thumbs into the arch of the foot, massaging deeply. The groan Dan lets out is near pornographic, and Phil can’t help but snort.

“I think you’re enjoying this a little too much,” he teases.

Dan lifts his head from where he’d dropped it onto the back of the sofa, giving Phil a sleepy grin. “I’m not the one who suddenly got horny for feet, bub.”

Phil splutters. “I’m- I am not horny for your feet,” he squeaks.

Dan lifts a challenging eyebrow, glancing pointedly to where Phil is still rubbing his foot affectionately. “Is that right?” Dan teases.

Sighing in defeat, Phil glances down at Dan’s toes, feeling some of that strange feeling in his gut again. It almost borders on jealousy, in a way. “I just think they look...” He searches for a word, and unable to find it, he leans down, pressing a kiss to the painted nail of Dan’s big toe. “Pretty.”

“Oh,” Dan says. Phil can almost hear the click as he realizes what this is about. Part of him cringes away from that feeling, and he has to force himself to lean into it instead, to remember that this is Dan, who would never judge him for anything. Well, there was that one time with the sushi- but Phil isn’t thinking about that now, because Dan is pulling his feet away and reaching out for Phil. ��C’mere,” he says, trying to pull Phil into his lap.

It takes a moment of struggle. Phil’s not as young as he once was, and his knees pop when he tries to stand, and one foot is a little asleep so he all but stumbles onto the sofa. Dan giggles as it happens, and Phil loves that sound more than anything, and he hopes he gets to keep hearing it forever.

Phil being more or less successfully gathered in his lap, Dan wraps his arms around his back and looks up at him with soft, curious eyes. “What’s going on, bub?”

Of course, Phil’s first instinct is to deflect. “Nothing.”

Obviously, Dan knows him better than that. “Well let’s start with the easiest thing,” he says. “Is there a foot fetish you’ve been hiding from me for ten years?”

Phil smacks him, very lightly, on the arm. “Dan!”

Dan grins. “Hey, I’m just asking. They say you can develop new tastes with food, I’m sure you can develop new tastes with sex, too.” He sounds intrigued, rather than like he’s making fun, and there’s a little bit of relief in that.

“It’s not a sex thing,” Phil says, almost apologetic for it. He halfway thinks that Dan was getting a bit horny, for whatever reason.

Dan’s expression doesn’t change. “Okay.” He rubs Phil’s thigh in a soothing sort of way. “Then what is it?” His voice is soft.

Phil turns his head so he can look down at Dan’s feet. It’s not a foot thing, he knows that. If Dan had painted his fingernails, Phil would be fixing his attentive gaze on his hands instead. But as it is, the glittery black polish is gleaming from his toes, and Phil just... wants. He wants something he never has before, never really even considered that he might be allowed to want it for no other reason than to look.

But Dan won’t judge him for this.

So, he takes a breath and turns back to Dan, pushing his curls up off his forehead just to kiss that empty space. “I was wondering if you’d paint my nails for me,” Phil says, forcing a casual tone.

He almost expects Dan to dive deeper into it, to ask questions and dissect the psychology of it like he’s so apt to do, but he doesn’t. He must realize how precarious this all feels to Phil, and instead he just smiles beautifully. “Of course. Let me go get all my polishes and you can pick a color.”

~~~

“Phil! I said one color!” Dan is screeching as Phil lines up a fourth bottle of nail polish.

“I can’t decide!” Phil complains, surveying the collection of two shades of blue, a green that Dan swears is yellow, and a bubblegum pink. He’s about to add another to the pile when Dan snatches it out of his hand.

“Absolutely not, I’m not doing five different colors,” he says, holding the polish out of Phil’s reach. “You can pick two, but I’m not doing five.”

Phil sighs heavily, like this is the hardest choice he’s ever had to make. “Fine. I want to do this one and... this one!” He hands Dan a baby blue and the bubblegum pink, not missing the way Dan gives him a look of mild surprise.

“Sure, bub. I’ll do alternating colors, yeah?”

“Why not just do one hand blue and one pink?” Phil asks, watching as Dan gets everything situated.

Dan snorts. “I don’t think people do that,” he says mildly, placing both of the bottles on the arm of the sofa and putting the others back into the little bag.

“I want to have one blue hand and one pink,” Phil announces. “I don’t care which is which. Oh! I’ll close my eyes so you can surprise me.”

“Sure,” Dan says. “C’mon, get back in the floor so I can see your hands better.”

Phil huffs as he does as he’s told, his knees making a cracking noise as he folds his legs beneath him. “I hope you don’t expect this to have a happy ending,” he says, eyes flicking down to Dan’s crotch rather pointedly.

Dan rolls his eyes. “If I wanted a blowie, I’d just ask,” he says dryly.

“Of course you would,” Phil snorts. He thinks for a moment. “Maybe later, though?” he asks hopefully. It has been a rather long day, and sex is basically a physical form of therapy.

Dan snorts loudly. He props his feet up on Phil’s thighs, dragging Phil’s hands up into his own lap. “Horny rat,” he says affectionately. “Alright, close your eyes so I can disfigure you- I mean paint your nails.”

“Hilarious,” Phil deadpans. He does as he’s told though, closing his eyes and relaxing, allowing his hands to rest in Dan’s gentle grip.

It takes approximately four minutes for Phil to get bored.

“I’m bored,” he complains loudly.

Dan huffs, and his breath fans out across Phil’s face. “I didn’t realize I was meant to be entertaining you while I do this,” he says.

“Well what am I supposed to do?” Phil whines.

“Just sit there and be quiet? I don’t know bub, but I’ve got to focus if you don’t want them to be completely fucked up.”

Phil pouts. “It’s too quiet.”

Dan sighs. “Maybe it would be good for you to have a moment of rest after working all day. Maybe the lack of stimulation would be a good thing, even.”

Phil does actually consider this, but ultimately decides, eh, probably not. “Hey Siri, play Phil’s playlist.”

“Phil,” Dan chastises. He also sounds mildly embarrassed, like he didn’t put the playlist together for Phil. Granted, that was forever ago, at least six or seven years, but still.

“What!” Phil laughs, cracking one eye open. “I’m bored!”

Dan just shakes his head and gives Phil a dirty look. Taking the hint, Phil closes his eyes and listens to the music while Dan takes care of him, the feeling of polish being swiped on his nails an unfamiliar but welcome one.

~~~

“Okay,” Dan says eventually. “All done. You can look.”

Phil had honestly been drifting in and out of sleep a little, so to hear Dan’s voice all of a sudden makes him jump. Dan snorts a laugh at that, but is otherwise silent as Phil opens his eyes and looks down at his fingernails. He’s not sure what he’s expecting, really. It’s not like he’s particularly afraid of this; he’s comfortable enough in his gender and sexual identity to paint his nails, it’s just...

It’s just like being given something he didn’t realize he was allowed to want, not because it had ever been kept from him, but because he’d never been offered it in such a casual way. As a gay man, he’d always felt that embracing this other side of “traditional gender norms” was something that was deeply engrained in you from a young age, a desire that had to mean something for it to be correct. He feels like that might be how it was for Dan, in some ways, but for him... for him this isn’t something he’s hid from himself, or searched for to satisfy some part of him. It was just something fun, something new to try. They don’t look perfect, honestly, and Dan’s right, having each hand have different colored nails doesn’t look right, but even so, Phil likes it.

“You’re making me nervous,” Dan blurts. “Do you hate it? I really tried my best, babe, I-“

“I love it,” Phil interrupts, turning his hands over and looking at the way the pink catches the light.

“Yeah? You do?” Dan sounds positively giddy.

Phil grins up at him. “It’s perfect.”

Dan flushes at the compliment, and Phil thinks that shade of pink is even better than the nail polish. “Well don’t go getting too excited. You’ve got to be careful and let them fully dry for an hour or so because they’re super easy to mess up.”

Phil balks a little at that. “An hour?” he whines. “What am I meant to do for an hour?”

Dan grins mischievously at that, and Phil nearly regrets asking. “Think you can keep your hands to yourself?” When Phil nods, Dan stands up, gesturing to the sofa. “Switch places with me, bub. I can think of a couple ways to waste an hour.”

Phil kisses him quickly on the lips when they’re swapping places, excitement and gratitude all rolled up in the kiss. “Thank you.” He doesn’t just mean for the sexual favor he’s about to receive, and he can tell Dan knows it.

“No problem,” Dan grins. “You can get me back later.”

#phan #phanfiction #painting nails #gender-y discussion but not super heavy #i honestly just wanted some soft nail painting moments #fluff #domestic #just boyfriend things #baby blue and bubblegum pink

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eruden-writes · 5 years

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Pride & Prejudice & Orcs - Ch. 1

I’ve been working on this for a couple days. I may go back and rewrite this chapter, if I decide to continue this project.

The night had been long awaited. A ball at Lucas Lodge! Precisely, the first ball the new residents of Netherfield would attend. As much as the populace of Hertfordshire attempted to go about their business, making acquaintances and sharing gossip with old and new friends alike, there was an anticipatory buzz in the air. Eyes often drifted to the entryway, hoping for the first glimpse of the newcomers arriving. Even the dancers upon the floor seemed to find their attention drifting toward the door.

Or, perhaps, that was merely Elizabeth’s interpretation. Between her mother and Mrs. Lucas nearly constant chatter on the subject, sharing tidbits they’d learned from their respective husbands, and the rumors brought home by Lydia and Kitty, intrigue had certainly been piqued. The amount of new embellishments - lace, netting, and ribbon - on old gowns seemed more than a coincidence.

“He shouldn’t be hard to spot,” sighed Elizabeth as she stood amongst her sisters. “I heard he’s bringing quite the platoon of gentlemen and ladies.”

“Four men and six ladies, I hear,” came an excited giggle from Kitty who, moments earlier, had been sizing up potential dancing partners.

There was a quiet smack as Lydia elbowed the Kitty, her voice taking on an almost annoyed tone, “I heard it was six men and twelve ladies.”

“Either way, too many ladies,” remarked Mary, whose voice dipped low with sarcasm as she turned the page of her book. She, along with her sisters, knew the main delight in the newcomers were the prospective bachelors. Not that she cared much for such trappings. However, the more women there were, the less likely one of the new men were available.

Her words were lost as Kitty and Lydia both gave soft squeals of joy, pushing forth toward a group of friends not far away. Already, the thought of newcomers was forgotten by the two.

“However many he brings,” Jane cut in, her voice soft and filled with a delighted excitement, “I’m certain they will all be well-mannered and lovely.”

Elizabeth hummed in reply to Jane, her lips pressed together in a smile. She didn’t wish to put a damper on her sister’s unerring sense of optimism. It was part of Jane’s charm, so different from Elizabeth’s own demeanor.

Charlotte Lucas, a homely young woman with a pleasant smile and long-time friend of the Bennet sisters, scuttled through the crowd, an excited smile barely contained on her lips. “They’ve arrived. Three men and two women.”

“Promising,” laughed Elizabeth, sharing a look with the two sisters who remained near her.

Seconds later, the strangers entered and, with them, came a renewed slew of conversation in the room. So many suddenly animated conversations, so many people enjoying their night and paying the strangers no mind! Attentive eyes followed the party as Sir Lucas greeted and welcomed them.

A man with dark skin - reminiscent of purple calla lilies - and long pointed ears parted from the group, a brilliant smile splitting across his lips. Adorned in well-tailored clothes, that showed off his lanky, streamlined figure, and accessorized with silver jewelry, he carried himself with an air of grace and regality while maintaining a warm smile. With long white locs that fell to his hips and a tattoo of silvery swirls along the right side of his face, the man certainly stood out among the mostly human populace of Hertfordshire.

Charlotte leaned close to the Jane and Elizabeth, her voice dipping quietly, though her eyes lingered on the contingent. “The drow is Mr. Bingley.”

“And the ladies?” Jane’s soft voice barely carried over the renewed conversation around them. Her eyes had flickered to the fashionable women with him, one baring long pointed ears while the other appeared just as human as the rest of Hertfordshire.

“His sisters, I understand. One is married to the elven man behind them, a Mr. Hurst.”

Behind the drow woman, a well-dressed elven man did, indeed, stand.

Elizabeth minutely inclined her head toward the final newcomer. “And the last?”

Standing ramrod straight with his arms folded behind his back, and taller than the rest of the room, he cut quite a figure. Broad shoulders and musculature pulled his tailored clothes taut, drawing the eye along enticing arcs of his arms and legs. Ice blue eyes contrasted against his laurel green skin, face marked by one long scar along his right cheek. Filed down tusks jutted from his lower jaw, capped with silver adornments. His dark hair pulled into a low bun, his ears hidden beneath the locks.

“That is Mr. Darcy. I’m told he’s one of Bingley’s closest friends.” Charlotte managed to say no more, as her father - Sir Lucas - waved her over. Elizabeth and Jane nodded politely after her, as she skittered to greet her father’s guests.

When compared to Bingley’s sunny disposition, Darcy’s sobriety appeared detached and standoffish. He gave only the slightest incline of his head and the briefest smile in greeting to Charlotte as Sir Lucas introduced his daughter. Bingley, on the other hand, shot her a smile that could cleave a cloudy day in twain.

The two men were, in a way, a very visceral depiction of night and day, thought Elizabeth.

“Quite a pair, the two make,” she mused, a smile curling at her lips.

“Yes, a very rich pair!” The words announced the arrival of Mrs. Bennet, a stout and soft woman whose gaze could shrewdly size one up in an instant, as she elbowed through the crowd. After the last few days, Mrs. Bennet became a font of knowledge all things Bingley related. From his newly bought estate - Netherfield - to his wealth of five-thousand, you could hardly go an hour without her mentioning something pertaining to the man. This before he even introduced himself to Hertfordshire society!

She leaned close to Jane and Elizabeth, her whisper not quiet enough, “Lady Lucas has told me of Mr. Darcy. He’s of a mighty fortune, twice that of Bingley, and owns a great estate in Derbyshire. Such a handsome man, too!”

“Mamma, please,” Jane pleaded, her voice quiet yet firm in her discomfort of the subject.

Mrs. Bennet gave out a gasp, standing a bit straighter and completely ignoring Jane’s soft spoken reprimand. “They’re coming over. Smile, girls, smile!”

“Mrs. Bennet! Mr. Bingley here expressed an interest in becoming introduced to you and your daughters,” chuckled Sir Lucas, his face ruddy with the heat of the room and delight.

“Sir, how good of you!” Mrs. Bennet gave a curtsy, her daughters following suit. Mr. Bingley bowed deeply, that eternal sunshine of a smile still lighting his features, while Mr. Darcy remained behind him, expression stony.

“Here, we have my eldest, Jane,” Mrs. Bennet motioned to her blonde daughter. Among the Bennet sisters, her beauty and angelic countenance had always been talk of the town. Even now, among the swaths of people, she was a beacon. Mrs. Bennet’s hand flicked toward her oldest brunette daughter, who shared her mother’s shrewd gaze. “And my second eldest, Elizabeth.”

“Mary is seated in the corner. Such a well-read little thing.” Indeed, Mary had re-positioned herself in a far corner, eyes locked to a book, utterly disinterested in the world around her.

With a final flourish of her gloved hand, Mrs. Bennet indicated toward the dance floor, where a lively jaunt and giggles arose. “My two youngest, Kitty and Lydia, are occupied with dancing.”

Mr. Bingley’s smile never faded, his gaze flickering from Bennet sister to Bennet sister.

Not one to let the situation teeter away, Mrs. Bennet - a bit louder - inquired, “Do you like to dance, Mr. Bingley?”

“I find it one of the best joys of life, madam,” laughed Mr. Bingley, attention drawn back toward Mrs. Bennet. Somehow, his smile broadened as his lavender eyes moved toward Jane. “If not otherwise engaged, would Miss Jane do me the honor of the next two dances?”

Jane’s expression rippled with pleasant surprise, before she replied, “I am not engaged.”

“May I take that as a yes, then?” Mr. Bingley raised an eyebrow, his lips curling with an almost teasing smile.

“You may,” Jane said with a slight nod, her own lips twitching at the corners.

“And you, sir? Are you fond of dancing, too?” Mrs. Bennet turned her gaze to Darcy, her eyebrows raised and eyes gleaming.

Darcy shot a look at Bingley, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed tight.

Bingley started at the expression, embarrassment coloring his cheeks as he motioned toward Darcy. “Oh! Forgive me. Mrs. Bennet, may I present my friend, Mr. Darcy, to you and your lovely daughters?”

“You are very welcome to Hertfordshire, sir! Do you come with the same eagerness to dance as your friend?”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Darcy inclined his head to Mrs. Bennet, his voice deep but tone detached. “I fear I rarely dance.”

“Well, I do hope that changes tonight!” Like a bird, Mrs. Bennet seemed to puff out her chest with pride, looking over the merrymaking. Elizabeth’s gaze followed her mother’s, a warm smile breaching her lips as she found all her neighbors clustered and smiling or dancing to the happy, trilling music. “I daresay you will not find music as lively nor partners as lovely.”

A beat of silence fell between the two and, without another word, Mr. Darcy gave a nod and moved away.

Mrs. Bennet blinked, shocked at his sudden departure from the conversation, her pleasant countenance dropping slightly.

“Pray, pardon my brief leave, ma’am,” Bingley gasped, giving a brief and polite smile before darting after his friend.

As soon as the two were far enough away, Mrs. Bennet sputtered, “What a disagreeable man!”

“Mamma, he may hear you.”

“And what if he does?” Mrs. Bennet turned to her eldest, shooting her a righteous look of annoyance. “His friend is everything charming. Who is he to believe he’s so above us, he may excuse himself from our presence without a word of warning?”

Elizabeth sighed, knowing better than to argue with her mother in this mood. She’d be lying if she didn’t feel the same prickle of irritation. Who simply walked off, in the middle of a conversation?

As she turned, to survey potential dance partners, cool blue eyes caught hers from across the distance of the room. Her heart stuttered, realizing Darcy seemed to leer right in her direction. More precisely, the distasteful gaze was upon her mother who had continued her tirade, unaware her daughters were not listening. His attention shifted slightly to Elizabeth, no doubt drawn to her movement.

Unable to do anything else, Elizabeth simply gave a slight nod and uncertain smile. He stared at her, face stony, before Miss Bingley beckoned his attention away. Whether Darcy had truly been focused upon them or not, she couldn’t determine. However, Elizabeth breathed easier as his attention shifted.

If she hadn’t known better, she’d think he could hear their conversation, in spite of the general chaos of the dance. That was silly, though, wasn’t it?

#monster boyfriend #exophilia #exo #orc #pride and prejudice #wip #dry run #not entirely sure I'll continue yet or not #sfw

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killmebutneverinsultme2 · 4 years

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Rules for mobile (Pinned Post)

The Code

Success. I’ve sufficiently pestered the wench to make me a blog, much to the cost of a certain behorned mischief god whose presence I must share. Follow the rules below, and there’ll be smooth sailin’, savvy?

This be an exceptionally selective blog. I was me mun’s first ever muse yonks back and I’ve pestered her into writing me again, BUT, she’s horribly pressed for time. Partners will likely be very few, else ones doubling up with Loki’s. Anyone is welcome to approach and enquire, but she and I will be leaning toward those either from me own universe or crossovers with which she’s highly familiar and characters in whom she’s especially interested. Ye have been warned.

Replies are like to be slow, up to a few weeks at most.

Partners must be 18+. Various themes of an adult nature may be found here. Sexual things will be tagged ‘#filthy pirate’ with whatever level/variety of sin I deem them. More details below.

Behave. There shall be no rudeness, no passive aggression, no hate, no censorship or generally being a twit. Do I make meself clear?

The Code - Extended (below the cut)

Hi, guys. I’m Pirate (oddly known as this long before I made Jack a tumblr). Here are my more detailed rules and guidelines for writing with me on this blog, though the absolute basics are at the top as, honestly, it’s never easy to remember everyone’s requirements.

Jack is a sideblog. If you’re being followed by a benevolentgodloki that means I’m following you back. I don’t need us to be mutuals (both following each other) for us to write together, but there is a greater chance of us having a partnership if we’re letting each other know we’re interested.

How I Roll

I note myself as ‘highly selective’. This isn’t to be an elitist bugger, it’s because we all only have a limited amount of time we can put in. I want to write what I enjoy with people I enjoy. I am married with two attention-seeking cats, two jobs, a slow-brewing intended writing career and a video game addiction.

Asks/Memes - I will usually answer these no matter who they are from but I may or may not turn them into a thread I intend to keep. Some memes are very much designed to be something that continues so context can be key. If you would like to know in advance whether I intend to answer and/or keep something, please do pop me a message and I will be kind and honest.

My Threads - While Jack’s blog is still exciting and new, I’m being a bit all over the place with who and what I reply to depending on which way Jack’s.. compass.. is pointing. I do have a rolling turn order that I adhere to (to the point that I can genuinely tell you who is next at any given moment) but it’s all piled in with Loki’s threads, meaning I can take a few weeks to get round everything. Every partner gets one of their threads answered within that ‘round’ and then I go round again. However, when I’m really into something/finding something easy to pop back, I treat myself to spamming certain threads or partners at my whim. I use rpthreadtracker.com to maintain what I have.

I will remind partners of threads that have not been replied to for more than three months. If I do not do this, I have either forgotten/lost it myself, I’m not too fussed about keeping it at that stage, or you were absent for a long period of time.

My Style - I will write in both past or present tense depending on partner preference. My default is past but I like either. Please kick me if I screw up and write the wrong one. I prefer using regular size font but I will make mine small on replies to people who use the smaller so that it looks neat. I will often match partners’ lengths and some formatting details e.g. bolding dialogue, but I struggle with doing novella-length posts for reasons below.

I have a bugbear to admit about role-play. What we call splicing. A good half of my partners write this way so I’m not about to tell everyone to stop but if you’re someone who does this, you will occasionally run into some frustrations when writing with me. ‘Splicing’ is when you retrospectively write dialogue or actions as having previously happened during your partner’s last post. These things are fine when they’re passive i.e. your character muttered them, thought them or you were writing what your character was doing at the time because that’s pretty much essential. The trouble comes usually when my characters talk a lot/ask rhetorical questions and partners choose to answer every single one despite the fact my character carried on talking. I know it’s an ass that I have talkative muses and you really want to respond to every point/get a word in, but putting words and actions into the past effectively godmods my muse into accepting they happened. If you feel your muse would have full-on interjected midway through their ramble, please ask me to edit my post/stop it at that point. Otherwise if you do prefer to splice, my muse will only respond to whatever it is your character did or said last in their post. This is one of the reasons I can’t write novella, because often there is only so much you can write before you’re stepping into the territory of changing what went before and not allowing your partner to do anything about it.

TL;DR don’t ever worry about your post being too short for me. If it’s one sentence long but it’s because something fast-paced is happening, I won’t be miffed.

Shipping! - no not that kind of ship, Jack. I love shipping. Ships all around. Let’s face it, romance can be one of the most exciting reasons we bother writing. I am open to a lot of ships for Jack, practically all of them. Yes, even that one. I will do downright nasty, toxic, horrible stuff, savvy? It’s fiction and Jack is a great indulgence for bad things happening to him as much as good. That said, of course don’t force something on him without prior agreement between us. Well, I mean, your muse can try and accost him and see what he does, just don’t expect him to definitely reciprocate. Jack and I are bi/pansexual. We’re open to everything. I will admit a heavy lean toward m/m but, that said, Jack is extremely fond of the ladies, more so than Loki. I am very into Sparrington especially.

Not Safe For Ye Olde Work

Sliding down from the above topic, I enjoy the occasional smutting. It is not a requirement from my partners. In fact, I’m warming very much to fading to black depending on the context/mood/if things feel a bit repetitive. I do feel a touch more comfortable with partners who don’t need that boundary but as I’ve recently figured ‘if it needs a cut, then it’s smut’ I know when to skip on.

Saucy material will go under cuts/Read More’s and be tagged as mentioned above with ‘filthy pirate’. Additional tags will be based on the citrus scale: ‘lime’ for general grabbing, ‘lemon’ for full on sexual content and ‘grapefruit’ if things get extra kinky. I will tag things such as ‘rape tw’ or ‘noncon tw’ or ‘dubcon tw’ where necessary. Please blacklist any or all of these at your leisure, or search them if you fancy :U I do NOT tag these as ‘ns.fw’ because tumblr just completely hides them from being searchable which is useless for my partners.

OC’s - Due to my time constraints I am extremely picky when it comes to OC’s. This is a good fandom for well-thought-out muses and I know firsthand how hard it is to make headway as an OC in the RP world. However, I also understand that for people like me, I want to dip in on this site to mostly play with the characters and worlds I’m really absorbed in and ship my weaselly black guts out. Some people have more time than others to really give your OCs the time and love they deserve. Unless I’ve played with you a long time and I really like the cut of your and your muse’s jib, it’s very unlikely I’ll bite. Apologies! The same goes for crossover muses from fandoms I’m unfamiliar with, but I will let you know if that’s the case.

Limits

Threads - I don’t have a strict limit on how many to have per person but please bear in mind that the more of these you have with me the longer it will take me to get to a particular one (unless I’m spamming it back and forth). This is more a mun/muse context how many I accept.

Exclusives/mains - I don’t do these although I may consider having a maximum of 3 or 4 of one muse depending on activity levels and to ensure plots don’t get mixed up or attention feel unfairly balanced.

Triggers/squicks - I don’t like body horror e.g. graphic detail of squishy bits having bad things happen to them. I’m writing a pirate so there’s absolutely allowed to be elements of torture/violence, just don’t stab him in the eye or chop bits off him. One torture-related thing sends me into a complete freakout which I’ll discuss with partners if we’re doing a thread of that ilk as needed. Kink-wise I’m not into mpreg, A/B/O or infantilism or toilet things. Just ask me/Jack if you’re after something XD

Who I Am/What I Need From You

Being yourself is the most important thing and I promise I am not a scary person (usually). We’re only human and it’s natural that we’ll get along better with some rather than others. This is more to give you a gist of the sort of person I am and who I gel with best.

So I’m a shy hermit at the best of times. I’m trying to be better at engaging and enthusing with partners over our threads because I realise more than ever this does keep things alive and make for a more enjoyable experience. I’m not always great at it. I work best with people who are patient and don’t worry too much on what I think of them and their writing, with people who are happy to keep threads going for the longhaul rather than keep dropping everything before I’ve had the time to get to the next post, and most especially people who accept that fiction =/= reality. I do need a certain level of quality, which doesn’t always mean perfect grammar, but it must be coherent, fun and creative. I like a relaxed approach, sharing mutual enjoyment in silly fantasy world sandboxes as escapism from (and exploration of) this complicated world we live in.

If you managed to read all of this, have a drink (even if it’s water). You’re a diamond.

Pirate xxx

#rules #pinned post

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witnesstruesorcery · 4 years

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A VERY IMPORTANT UPDATE!!

I have fixed some pretty obvious mistakes in the text of my book, and in the back of the cover. I have also changed some of the fonts and size in the main title and added a few details here and there in the cover. Some positioning of the titles, logos, images, photos and the text were also very much improved in this upated version of the cover art as a whole. The most important thing I did, is to LOWER THE PRICE substantially. I decreased it from $ 11.00 to $ 8.99 (pretty reasonable I think for such book) and in the UK that would be, £ 6.66 (yes, I know what you’re thinking). The Euro equivalent all around the other Amazon markets in Europe is now about 7.00 Euros. So in other words, it's dirt cheap and super affordable! Can't argue with that, eh? You have no possible excuse now, but to get it for Christmas! :) Oh yeah, and I have also added a few paragraphs and images in the text of the book, and now the pages have increased from 163 to 165. That's all I can give for the moment. My eyes are not detecting any other major mistakes after re-reading the text and checking the cover. If you find any after you read it, please feel free to report them to me so that I can fix them. As I said in my previous comment, I will definitely make a detailed flick through on every single page (from start to finish) and show how the cover looks, the actual binding and all the rest of these things when I receive a copy of my book. I may even read you a bed time story if you like. So thank you all again folks and I do hope you a nice trip with the book! It really, really, really, really means a lot to hear from you. Cheers lads and lasses!

Synopsis:

In his book, HERESY & METAPHYSICS, Borislav Vakinov explores and discusses; philosophical, anthropological, occult, existential, mythological and polytheistic themes and concepts. Thematically, the core of the book deals with pre-Christian, Pagan practices and beliefs and also delves into Fortean topics such as; the paranormal, the super natural, ritual magic and mysticism which roots and foundations are firmly based in prehistory, classical antiquity, as well as in more current times. HERESY & METAPHYSICS rides on the towering wave of probability, chaos magic and high weirdness. With these tools in hand, the author aims at the highest target in order to unravel and “excavate” the mystical, the paranormal and the super natural, and to present them in a quite different perspective. A more down-to-earth snap shot, free of “new age” or materialist types of dogma and sugar-coated in mainstream and academic phraseology; in other words—THE HYPER UPDATE OF THE DECADE! HERESY & METAPHYSICS taps into archetypes, metaphors and subconscious models that hadn’t been properly discussed, developed and explored since the so-called “truth movement” began in Europe and North America in the early part of the decade after the events of 9/11. The book fuels the engine of creativity and peels off layer after layer of lies, deceit and fake promises of a better tomorrow, in a world where the mass media, the politicians, the world governments (the so-called “elites” behind the curtains), and the global corporations dictate how or whether we should have an authentic experience. Whether we should look for answers beyond the five-sense reality, or express ourselves as normal human beings. The time has come to embark on a solo magical journey through the fields, forests, mountains, suburban alleys and dark corners of our towns and native lands and put on the Wizard cloak of invisibility and grip in both hands the staff and the mighty sword of power in order to achieve highly concentrated and well-structured models for improving our lives.With the writing and the publication of Heresy & Metaphysics, the author’s inner most wish and desire is to take the reader on that lone ship in the middle of the ocean, where the captain strives to pull up the anchor and lift it up towards the unknown. In a completely unpretentious and unapologetic way, the book tries to push further ahead into new territories and break the thick blocks of stagnation and outdated spiritual and secular ideals, while steering the ship back into well-established grounds and visit old and familiar places. At the same time, the main quest of HERESY & METAPHYSICS is to deliver something deeply profound, practical, weird and authentic. Much of Borislav’s work concentrates on the world that is ignored by the mainstream and pop culture. Sometimes forgotten, obsolete or simply marginalized, it is a world of the unseen, of the hidden and of the unknown, that doesn’t fit into a thirty-second news media bite or a Facebook and Twitter feed.Borislav has spent the last ten years traveling across Europe and his native land, taking notes and documenting this world and now has a story to share. This is the beginning of his quest into the world of mystery & magic. THIS IS HIS FIRST PUBLISHED BOOK.

AmazonUS:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08NF1RD3W

AmazonUK:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B08NF1RD3W/ref=ox_sc_act_title_4?smid=A3P5ROKL5A1OLE&psc=1

AmazonEU

https://www.amazon.de/dp/B08NF1RD3W

#heresy & metaphysics #borislav vakinov #magick #occult #philosophy #existentialism #books #kdp publishing #amazon #book update #bulgaria #magic

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illuminated-in-darkness · 5 years

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Marauders’ Magical Marvels

Another plotless piece for my weekly writing challenge.

Setting: Magic Shop, Marauders

Prompt: “Hey! I was going to eat that!”

Tags: shenanigans, found family, magic shop, AU, apparently I love making people eat together, there’s literally no plot

~~~

The bell above the door tinkled merrily as Lily slipped into the shop. She was immediately surrounded by a kaleidoscope of smells and colours, the boys clearly gone crazy with the freedom to fill the shop however they wanted. Lily wouldn’t have chosen to have any living space of hers look like this, but there was a certain comfort to the shop, a way that the intensity sometimes reflected the boys’ own dynamic. At least she had been able to convince them to stick to one or two scents, instead of assaulting customers with an open bottle of each product. The days leading up to the shop’s grand opening had been hectic to say the least – there were too many last-minute changes, as could only be expected, and the boys had insisted they needed to open with a bang. It had taken Lily the better part of an afternoon to make Remus see that ‘bang’ didn’t have to mean solar flare, and it took him another two days to talk the others down too. Eventually though, even Sirius had managed to admit Lily was right.

And so Marauders’ Magical Marvels had finally come to be (Marlene was the one who made them see that Marauder’s Magnificent Magical Marvels was just way too much), and almost three years later the shop had settled into a rhythm and a regular customer base, always experimenting and expanding, but no longer at the frantic pace of their first year. The boys had also settled better into their roles. At first everyone was trying to do everything, which only led to confusion and a few unhappy customers. Eventually, however, they each found their point of excellence.

Peter had the mind for marketing, taking on most everything from displays and the shop’s organization, to signage, adverts, and promotions. He really did have quite the eye, Lily thought as she continued through the familiar aisles. There was something pleasing to the explosion of colours and shapes, each product unique. Not only were the sections of store more intuitive than any of them initially realized, the positioning of products complemented those around them. Now Peter could leave the menial shelving to one of the employees, but he made sure to impress upon them the importance of placing things just so.

Remus, ever the scientist and the most patient of the four, handled most of the R&D – which mostly consisted of experimenting in the back room, usually with seven or eight potential new ‘recipes’ on the go. The refrigerators were covered in notes only he fully understood, with instructions on what to leave for how long and at what temperature, or when to add how much of a new ingredient. When his wand wasn’t in his hand it was stuck behind his ear, a feat which continually left everyone mystified as to how such a large object could both stay put and stay out of Remus’ way. His less visible work was that of creating new spells, some which helped with the making and perfecting of the products, and others which were used within the products themselves; enchantments which would release upon the use or activation of the product. In the beginning he spent many a night catching only a few hours’ sleep in the room above the shop, needing to just slightly tweak a recipe in order to perfect it. Now Sirius made sure to get him home before it was too late, and Remus was confident enough in his research that he could stand to leave things for the night – or set spells that would take care of things overnight.

Sirius found that numbers came surprisingly easily to him, and his memory helped with the organization of orders, shipments, and bills. His charm and wit, which got him in trouble on more than one occasion, were helpful behind the scenes with partners as well as in front of customers and press. Sirius was the one who managed to keep the shop afloat, especially in the first year and a half of investment in the shop knowing when to spend in order to make revenue. It was less often now, but he still worked the floor when he could, happy to explain the ins and outs of the newest stock and help customers find exactly the thing they didn’t know they needed. If Remus was prone to constantly tinkering with products, Sirius could get lost in numbers, spreadsheets, and forms that none of the others understood. Occasionally it would be Remus leading Sirius home at a reasonable hour, or James bringing whichever meal he was sure Sirius had forgotten to eat.

James was the artist. If Peter had the vision for what products needed, James was the one who brought it to life. Ideas and keywords that made no real sense together came to life through his imagination and craft. Bottles and containers that were not only beautiful and eye-catching, but also practical, conducive to the type of product and the method of use. Then there were the labels, the size and font and placement, the symbols and images to complete the package. Peter knew what would sell, and James found the way to take the principles and turn them into something entirely unique. Sometimes he started his work digitally, but most often he could be found hunched over his sketches, hair constantly messy from his hands running through it. Every now and then one of the boys would have to remind him to stand up and stretch his back, his neck. He also joined Sirius in press for Marauders’ Magical Marvels, his evident passion easily spreading to those he reached. If Sirius had all the information and wit to let customers know why MMM products were the best, James could make customers feel something personal about them. Together they took on most of the external communications that Remus and Peter preferred not to engage in, although the four of them always appeared together for big moments and celebrations.

Lily was so proud of the boys and what they’d achieved, how hard they worked to get to where they were. She was thrilled to write about the shop and its successes when she could – happy she was in a position at The Journal where she could actually get word out about MMM. She came by most night after work, helping out where she could before heading home with James. It wasn’t until about two years in that she realized this place had become something of a second home to her, familiar though ever-changing. It was definitely the boys’ happy place, and there had been many long nights and early weekends spent at Marauders’ Magic Marvels.

Lily made for the back room of the shop, where she imagined all four of them were hanging out now that the shop had closed. She pushed open the door to see Remus snatching something out of James’ hand and crumbling the substance onto the tray in front of him.

“Hey! I was going to eat that!” James protested, hand still outstretched.

Remus looked up at him from under his eyebrows.

“Yeah, and it would have tasted like chocolate for about two second before it made you violently ill, genius.” His eyes flicked to the doorway. “Hi, Lily.”

“Hi Remus,” Lily smiled. “Hey boys,” she addressed the others, Sirius scribbling away with his legs dangling off the counter, Peter’s head in a book.

“Lily!” James’ face split into a grin when he saw her, and Lily didn’t try to smother the warm feeling that bloomed in her chest at the sight.

Chocolate-like non-snack forgotten, James made his way over to Lily and pressed a kiss to her lips.

“How was your day?” James asked when they pulled away.

“Long, but good,” Lily admitted. “I think I’m hungrier than I realized.’

Right on cue, Sirius’ stomach let out a loud grumble. When he continued to scribble, Remus smacked his arm to get his attention.

“Lily. Dinner,” he said when Sirius looked up, gesturing toward the door with his head.

Sirius seemed to come back to Earth and notice his surroundings.

“Lily! Dinner!” He exclaimed, jumping off the counter and stuffing the paper and pen in his back pocket. “Of course!”

Remus took the tray he was working with and slid it into the refrigerator before washing his hands and taking off his apron. Meanwhile, Lily tried to break Pete out of whatever plot he was currently engrossed in.

“Hey Pete, are you hungry?”

Peter held up a finger, eyes quickly scanning the page before setting the bookmark inside and closing the novel.

“Yep, all set.”

They headed to the pub down the road from the shop, where Dorcas, Marlene, and Benjy were waiting at their usual table.

“Hey, you made it,” Dorcas pointed out.

“We always make it,” Sirius countered. “We just prefer to be fashionably late is all.”

Further bickering on the topic was prevented by the arrival of a round of beers for the table, and they ordered their usual.

After the ‘how was work?’ pleasantries, the group settled into a familiar rhythm, Lily and Marlene discussing the latest Quidditch match, Dorcas asking James and Peter about their newest product design, and Sirius trying to convince Remus and Dorcas that they had to go check out the summer food festival over the weekend.

These weekly dinners were nothing special, just beers, burgers, and fish and chips in a pub, but Lily had lately felt just how lucky she was that this was nothing more than routine. She knew it wouldn’t last forever. Benjy was planning on taking a position in Australia at the beginning of the following year, and life and schedules would eventually have to be worked around, but they would make it work, and for now, Lily was just happy to drink and eat and take the mickey out of her friends after work. It was a good day, and the fact that it wasn’t anything special made it all the more so.

#shenanigans #found family #magic shop #AU #apparently I love making people eat together #there's literally no plot #marauders #jily #lames #fanfic #harry potter au #sabrina writes sometimes

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theconcernedpotato · 6 years

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Update your game already!

Its been awhile since i did a proper update, so i think its about time i do some actual work while i have time and not only write, but show how the project is going.

i wont lie, with the change in scenery, work has taken a hit. I normally tend to get most my work done between 10 pm and 4 am, but such time doesn’t work well with a partner that keeps busy during the day. and the lack of such amazing creative people working next to me, motivation took a hit.

Not sure where to start, so lets start with the more interesting.

Particles. Since I didn’t have anything in mind when i started, but knew i would be looking into collision detection at some point, i decided to start there.

The game was not to be a realistic looking game so i went back to the beginning themes and what the game was about. I had got much inspiration from cartoons like bugs bunny and road runner, and the way they dealt with characters hurting themselves or setting off bombs have this amusing feel to it. this was something i wanted.

Finding tutorials on YouTube, i set to work.

Although i have yet to put any explosions in the game currently, the cartoon style got me and i would try to base all other effects along the same line.

After playing around creating a few different yet similar types, i wish to see them in action.

For this i needed to start work on the collision detection. The idea was - depending on how hard you hit a surface and where, the type of particles, noise and at what volume would change.

Rather then having everything tied to the character who would collide with everything, i decided to have the ground calculate where it was hit (the white flooring/walls would now detect everything). The thought was that if Stan hit and slid down a wall, the impact dust/smoke would spawn at the point of impact rather then on Stan who might have moved on from that spot. The result i think worked out quite well.

Once dealing with the actual point of collision and how i would spawn the effects in, i set to work on detecting how hard Stan would hit a surface. This actually wasn’t an issue and was more of a copy and paste with a little modification since the wizard ( https://oiral.tumblr.com/) helped with, and implemented such a thing back near the start of the project (since future mechanics i want would need it).

Once a few of the effects were done, i tied sound to it all. The sound of Stan hitting a wall at high speed then falling from a height to go splat was very amusing (more then it should have been. So much so i sat back watching and listening to him hit objects for far too long before getting back to work).

One of the criticisms i had when testing was the need to feel more like a stunt man. With that in mind one of a few ideas that came to me and hope to do was having stunts to have more impact and weight. a sense of actual danger. Having Stan hit the ground or wall at high speed would have An ambulance race across the screen when having to repeat a failed attempt.

Although amusing at first, because of the trial and error nature of the game, this might get annoying fast, so i still need to tone it down and call it every other time rather then every time. plus need a siren sound effect..

Talking about sound, Greg reached out after reading my last post and looped the track, so guess that takes care of that job (anything i don’t have to do is awesome!).

The import of some world assets was great and really brings the game to life. Stan has yet to be done yet but he is coming.

(no lighting or post have been done)

With trying to get the feel for being a stunt man, i tried to think how someone like that gets started. In my head they probably have always done crazy things like jump from the roofs of builds etc. (no i haven't researched that haha just a guess).

i had done a tutorial that would walk you through placement of items and the gameplay, but it wasn’t well implemented or well received. Oddly, even though i had the play button flashing to indicate to push it, people completely glossed over that fact (could be the play testers, but il take it on myself that maybe it way not clear).

To date the above gif is all i have done in re-inventing the tutorial. By removing all buttons but the play button, this would see no confusion in what needs to be pushed. This was to be one of a set of small tutorials that would walk the players though the play style of the game. In a brain storming meeting with my partner, this didnt seem the best way to go about it, so this too will be replace with something a little more better suited and the above will become part of the earlier levels as to how Stan becomes a stuntman.

So i was going to leave the assets all 3D since they are all very low poly, but due to performance testing, i plan on changing all assets into 2D sprites. Because i want it playable on most phone and all are different, getting the best performance is of the most importance.

So as you may see, turning the world into sprites made a huge difference. The aim was to get Batches and SetPass calls down as far as i could.

Running two tests for each, i set one at monitor screen size and the other at phone screen size just to see if that helped at all too. From what i took away was models into 4K sprites were the way to go (will drop the size even more too), dropped both Batches and SetPass calls by roughly 3/4, and this was without any optimization in any other way then switching out assets or Occlusion culling (as i did on the top left, which would see even better results. Occlusion culling = not seen, not calculated). The screen size saw most notably a spike in FPS and less strain on the CPU (not fully sure if this would truly transfer over to the phone yet since phones although small, actually are high res, but interesting to know anyways).

On the subject of performance, something it seems i will need to do is object pooling.. because the game is trial and error, it has people creating and destroying items constantly.. which is a major hit to the game performance.. this means a complete over haul of what systems are there currently. Not as hard as i thought it would be, but will take some time before i can get to it..

For those that are unsure what that meant, the way i understood it when learning about it was - the current system works like this -

I create items, and if i don’t want or need them, i throw the items in the bin, then when i need another item, i create another. As you might notice this is not really the best system, as the rubbish collection will become a problem, and its a bit of work to always create a new item from scratch.

Object pooling is more like - I create a new item, and if i don’t want or need them, i place them in a store room. Then when i need another item, i go pick that item up off the shelf.

The UI placement is getting an over haul for the next play test too, to see if it works better then the last. Also UI placeholders replaced with actual assets. Although these are still not final as they may not fit the game once it all comes together.

Test of the new layout and look. ignore the font..

i also did a small intro screen for when booting up Stan, needs quite a bit of polish still, but as a first pass i think i can live with it for now.

Now there is probably a lot i have missed and forgotten, but my partner has presented me with a glass of red, so i will leave it there, and hopefully get better with updates and actually working on this. Till next time, Thanks for reading.

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bluedragonfly71 · 6 years

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Wee White Cotton Curtains.

The adrenaline is coursing through my veins. I’ve just handed in my most recent assignment for Topography and I can assure you I have champagne ideas with a beer budget time frame.

Our project had us learning a font, of which I chose Centaur, then creating a piece on a 20”x26” paper using 6 letters/numbers using your chosen font. I thought I also had to use the computer to create my piece so I spent a great deal of time trying, to much internal agony and frustration, to learn how to use this new to me program. After realizing I would not be able to both learn this program and complete my project I had a meltdown of epic proportions (at least it felt epic to me). Thankfully my merciful teacher assured me I could do the project without using the computer (thank God)! By this point a great deal of time had passed. Worry not! I work best under pressure (just not with computers). I began with a few doodles in my book, then drew a diagram of how I thought I’d like it to flow.

I know, letter dude is adorable!

As I was researching the history of said font I learned it was old style Venetian. I walked into my craft studio when BAM, right there was my idea. My studio window all filled with letter type shapes and would you know it, a Venetian blind!

I could not pass on this tongue in cheek opportunity!

Inspiration in hand I set out making my grid on my watercolour paper. I love grids!

I set to work putting down my ideas then presented it to the class for critique.

I made working curtains from tissue paper, wire and grommets because, well, how cool is that!?! I left the colourwork blank for the time being.

The critique narrowed some ideas such as changing the curtains to cotton and the best colour palette.

With only 24 hours left until hand in, I booked it to the fabric store for sheer cotton for the curtains and to Michaels for the Copic colours I required (not cheap!!!).

That evening and night I applied the colour using both Danielle Smith watercolour and Copic markers. I had determined that two of the four colours used for the Xs were too dark so I put them away then proceeded only to quickly discover I put the wrong two colours away. Sigh. I did not like how dark the colour was and wanted to lighten it so I ombréd from darkest to lightest. Not what I planned, but making it work anyway...to interesting affect. I enjoy making my colour work appear mottled or waterstained. It feels more alive to have that weather worn look.

At this point, late into the night, I glanced over and saw my cat Alice (I am her human) settle in on my ironing board to pull the all nighter with me (she always sleeps with me). Note the camera adds 10 lbs (hahaha).

The next morning with only a few hours until hand in deadline I set to making the wee cotton curtains. I was quickly reminded why I despise sewing sheer fabrics (son of a ...). I had to calculate the finished size, add seam allowances etc. Being from a strong mathematically challenged bloodline said task was more challenging than it should have been. After cutting the size I serged all around the edges then folded and stitched the seams. LOTS of starch was required to keep the fabric firm enough to work with. I added grommets then hand washed and line dried the new wee curtains.

I lightly starched the curtains and gave them a final press with the iron. Time was firmly against me at this point. It was 12:35 and I still had to hang them. After two failed attempts, I managed to get them hung on my watercolour paper. The curtains smell pretty great by the way!

With time rapidly ticking decisions had to be made, and fast. Decency won out and I quickly changed into day clothes from my pajamas.

Out the door I shoot to deliver my assignment with adrenaline coursing through my veins. BOOM, and that’s how it’s done! I realized I had forgotten the top drape curtain once I got there. Sigh. These things happen.

Did I mention how great the curtains smell. Fresh cotton. Mmmmmm!

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huntermiracle752 · 3 years

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Leap Office 2000 Assamese Free Download

LEAP Office 2000 is a complete Indian language software for office applications. It has been developed in collaboration with Mithi.com Pvt. Ltd (earlier Men at Work) This is the most advanced package in LEAP range of products. LEAP Office 2000 has a number of features to make the use of Indian languages extremely easy. Download the latest version of LEAP Desktop. See our What's New article to learn about the most recent release. After you download LEAP you can watch the video below with the setup instructions. Download office 2000 for free. Office Tools downloads - Office 2000/XP/2003 Slipstreamer by Maric Igor and many more programs are available for instant and free download. Trusted Windows (PC) download Sabdalipi 1.0. Virus-free and 100% clean download. Get Sabdalipi alternative downloads.

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Sadly I cannot find my copy of the classic and monumental Kronos Quartet recording (although composed for and dedicted to the Stanley Quartet, 'Black Angels' has never been presented more powerfully (or more fascinating, and ghastly) then the Kronos recording.) -It was actually an inspiration and motivation for the members of the Kronos Quartet- to indeed form a Quartet to begin with!) This work deals with, among other things, ideas about Good vs. Evil forces in the universe. 'Black Angels' is for 'Amplified' String Quartet (as if it really needs that extra intensity!) as well as certain unorthodox percussive instruments, not to mention glasses of water, placed next to the players and filled to different levels to change the pitch of each one.

Many listeners will recognize the movement 'Night of the Electric Insects' as it was used quite effectively in the film 'The Exorcist'. This movement to this day gives me uncontrollable chills; I think it's one of the most sonically frightening pieces of music ever written. **I must add that this performance of the Quartet is not my favorite whatsoever-indeed the intensity and darkness is somewhat lost in the Diotima's performance, and 'Night of the Electric Insects' is extremely tame here.

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Crumb's quartet is like nothing else and I am always fascinated by it; it's a true contemporary masterpiece. When I find the Kronos Qt. Version I shall post it right away, I think everyone should have it in their collection! Anonymous said. I first came across Black Angels in a nice Cikada Quartet's CD released by Cala.

However innovative and unusual I found the remaining pieces (Webern, Lutoslawski) far more rewarding. Gm tech 2 software download. As for the Different Trains I agree the original Kronos recording for Nonesuch established a benchmark yet to be surpassed. That's necessarily a completely subjective appraisal, for I lack the technical knowledge to tell why one version is (arguibly) superior. The strongest point I could make in support of this claim amounts to the Krono's being the first Different Trains I ever listened to. Anonymous said.

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If memory serves, my first hearing of George Crumb was his 'Voice Of The Whale' on very-late-nite FM radio sometime in the late '70's. A few months later I heard it performed at a local 'New Music' festival.

My next encounter was the Kronos Quartet recording of 'Black Angels' when it arrived at my local record store. They remain my favourite pieces. Though I have heard other interpretations of 'Voice.' , I have never heard another 'Black Angels'. This will be an interesting listen. My mad obsession has always been collecting music.

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A program to recover lost or forgotten passwords to files/documents created in Microsoft Office applications: Word, Excel, Access (share-level), Money, IE. Most passwords are being recovered instantly; the password to open in Word/Excel 97/2000/XP can be recovered using brute-force and dictionary attacks, optimized for speed (about 5 million passwords per minute on PII).

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A program to recover lost or forgotten passwords to files/documents created in Microsoft Office applications: Word, Excel, Access (including user-level passwords and owner info), Project, Money, PowerPoint, Visio, Backup, Schedule+, Mail. Can also reset MS Internet Explorer (3/4/5) Content Advisor password, and open password-protected VBA projects via the backdoor. More InfoDownload

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With Add-in Express for Office and VCL you can create powerful, fast and easy deployable plug-ins for all available Microsoft Office versions, including Office 2010, 2007, 2003, 2002 (XP) and Office2000. Add-in Express is completely based on the Rapid Application Development (RAD) paradigm which allows creating professional application-level Office plugins without coding their GUI. Also, Add-in Express provides your add-ins with version-neutrality, ... More InfoDownload

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SSDocument Converter is a component for converting Microsoft Office2000 documents into HTML, TXT, RTF and various other formats. Our DLL is COM object and developers my call it from Visual Basic, C#, VBA, VB.Net, ASP, ASP.Net, Delphi, Java or other language. SSDocument Converter may convert files between these formats:DOC to HTML, DOC to RTF, DOC to Text, XLS to HTML, XLS to CSV, XLS to Text, PPT to JPG, GIF etc. Requirements: MS Office2000 ... More InfoDownload

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This add-in enables you to print Microsoft VBA version 6 & 7 source code in color of your applications across the entire Microsoft Office2000, 2003,2007,2010 and XP suite of applications: Word, Excel, Outlook, Access, PowerPoint, and FrontPage and any other VBA enabled software. You can create and save your own output styles by customizing the fonts and colors settings for keywords, strings, constants, procedure headers, line numbers, page ... More InfoDownload

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A program to recover lost or forgotten passwords to files/documents created in Microsoft Office applications (all versions up to Office 2002/XP): Word, Excel, Access (including user-level passwords and owner info), Project, Money, PowerPoint, Publisher, Visio, Backup, Schedule , Mail. Can also reset MS Internet Explorer (3/4/5) Content Advisor password, and open password-protected VBA projects (created in any application) via the backdoor. Most passwords ... More InfoDownload

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A program to recover lost or forgotten passwords to files/documents created in Microsoft Office applications (all versions up to Office 2002/XP): Word, Excel, Access (share-level passwords only), Money. Can also reset MS Internet Explorer (3/4/5) Content Advisor password. Most passwords are being recovered instantly: for MS Access; for MS Word/Excel 95 and older; for MS Word/Excel 97/2000/XP: password to save, document protection password, workbook ... More InfoDownload

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Three essential and full featured office applications: Kingsoft Writer, Kingsoft Spreadsheets and Kingsoft Presentation are designed with the familiar Microsoft Office 2003 user interface and functionality. You will be surprised that many features work EXACTLY the same way as Microsoft Office. Switching from Microsoft Office to Kingsoft Office requires no re-training. The Google Search toolbar provides one-click Internet search capabilities ... More InfoDownload

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writingsofawanderingwonderer · 7 years

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Katy's Everything Wrong With Bob's "Everything Wrong With CinemaSin's 'Everything Wrong With Sherlock Holmes'"

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Alternate title: Why CinemaSins shouldn't be destroyed.

Another alternate title: That One Controversial Essay That's Finally Going to Lead to Me Getting Eaten Alive by People on Twitter. Maybe.

Okay, so to get you old corks up to speed: Recently, there's been a surge, and absolute pandemic, of YouTube videos cropping up titled something along the lines of, "Everything Wrong With CinemaSin's Everything Wrong With _______", wherein the video nitpicks (their words, not mine) CinemaSins' nitpicks of a film. There have also been a bunch of comments on Twitter and YouTube saying that CinemaSins should pack up their things and hop it. To stop making their videos.

This is where I come in. And you reading this comes in.

It's hard for me to explain why I'm making this essay. Maybe it's because I want to play the Devil's Advocate in a contained, spaced environment. Maybe I want to give everyone reading this a different perspective on the matter; something to mull over and consider and take away before we decide to write something off as "bad" or "useless" or of low quality. Maybe I consider CinemaSins an old friend and I'd like to speak up for them, even though it's hard because I'm not used to voicing an unpopular opinion out loud, and I'm super-nervous about this. Maybe it's because I want to give a meta statement about how you can nitpick a nitpicker who nitpicks another nitpicker, and that continually nitpicking the next nitpicker will either create a wondrous nitpickception that we can all learn from, or spiral out of control into a lesson that nickpicking nitpickers nitpicking is a futile effort...

But for some reason, I've been overcome with a fierce desire to write this.

So, there you go. I'm making this now.

To structure this academic essay, I'm going to use an "Everything Wrong With CinemaSin's Everything Wrong With _______" video to make several counter-arguments. I'll be using Everything Wrong With "Everything Wrong With Sherlock Holmes" by Bobvids. (Thank you, Bobvids, for letting me use your video as an example. You're quite a trooper and a good sport! And I love your editing style!).

To add upon Bobvid's video's goal, this essay's goal is to nitpick a video nitpicking another video.

Nitpickception?

*cricket chirps*

Ahem. This essay's goal is also, like all my essays here, for educational purposes. Albeit, in a roundabout way.

To keep track of things, I'll add timestamps and quotes from Bobvid's video as I comment on them. I will skip over some parts of the video to prevent this essay from being over a hundred years long.

0:49 Bob: Why call them "movie sins"? One of the CinemaSins guys said it was "[...] because it's a more flexible & nebulous definition." But I guess they never realized "sins" has an extremely negative connotation. Of all the words they could've used, "sins" is the least flexible or nebulous.

Me: They're called "sins" because "no movie is without sin," as their slogan goes (the implication being that any film, no matter how beautiful, wonderful, and perfect it is, has flaws and should be discussed and acknowledged on some level. Because that's how future films grow as an art form. By learning from the past's mistakes). The word "sins" is nebulous because we all contain it, no matter how good or bad we are. He sins. You sin a little. They sin a lot. And I'm sinning right now. So it really is a flexible and nebulous definition.

1:14 Bob: Why have a movie sin timer when YouTube tells you exactly how long a video is?

Me: Because it's a reference/homage to the "gate" used in filmmaking. The "gate" is a black border placed around a piece of film or storyboard that lists the time, scene number, and name of the person who submitted the shot. When I'm animating professionally, I'm given a gate that lists these things, and every time I hand in a shot, I have to "check the gate" as the old filmmaker's term puts it, to make sure everything's in order. The gate even times the frame number (like the CinemaSins' timer and unlike YouTube's video timer), which is super important to include, because it makes it easier for a supervisor to give feedback ("Katy, could you please fix the foot-clipping issue that appears on frame 298? Thanks!"). So YouTube actually doesn't tell you exactly how long a video is (which is very, very frustrating if, like me, you like using YouTube videos as animation reference and want to scrub between individual frames without using an app like Reeview.it Player or Anilyzer)

Me: Here's an example of a film gate:

1:24 Bob: Why is the text of what's being said showing up at the bottom of the screen? Not only is it redundant, but YouTube lets you upload subtitles which is easier to do than premiere titles, lets viewers disable it if they don't need it, and also lets you edit text after the video's uploaded.

Me: Because, 1) the average YouTuber genuinely doesn't know all of YouTube's features, including toggling closed captions (seriously, I've seen several YouTube commenters complain that a person in a video was talking too fast, not realising that you can turn on subtitles and/or adjust the speed of the video. Youtube kinda makes it a wee bit tricky to find all its hidden features. Did you know that you can change the sub's font typeface, colour, and size? Did you know you can scrub through video frames using "," and "." but only sometimes? Well, now you know. You're welcome.)

Me: And, 2) Because YouTube's subtitles do not properly time (nor fit) all of its text onto the screen in full sentences if the speaker is talking fast or saying a lot, making the subtitles cut off midsentence. It is this for exact reason why it was so challenging and annoying for me to transcribe what you were saying throughout this video! And why is was MUCH EASIER for me to transcribe CinemaSins' subtitles in comparison (my typing fingers hurt soooo much right now). CinemaSins' method lets the viewer read subtitles in full and complete sentences, taking things in in a easier-to-digest way. They've also used it for gags where they change the font typeface or size midsentence to add emphasis.

Me: First image: Bobvids subtitles for CinemaSins (note how it's cut off midsentence). Second image: CinemaSins' subtitles (see how they're easier to read?).

Me: Also, why the Dickens did you subtitle CinemaSins if their subtitles are already in their part of the video? Isn't that hypocritically-and-ironically-redundant?!

1:37 CinemaSins: This film production logo is so ballsy I straight up have no idea what company it's for. But good job on being ballsy enough to NOT include your name, mystery production company.

Bob: That's Silver Pictures. You may know them from producing Weird Science, Lethal Weapon, Predator, Die Hard, Road House, Demolition Man, and The Matrix. They're allowed to have some balls.

Me: In all fairness, I literally haven't seen any of those movies you've mentioned (Weird Science looks interesting, I'll check that one out. I've now added it to my library list.) except for The Matrix, which I didn't really like due to its lack of humour and its tonal issues. So using a nameless logo really doesn't help you get more people to know about your company if they're unfamiliar with it or have forgotten what your logo looks like. So why do it? Pointless! Mad as a hatter!

2:25 CinemaSins: Robert Downey, Jr. is a handsome, fun, charismatic lead actor... who cannot do an English accent to save his life. Is it too much to ask that SHERLOCK HOLMES actually be British?

Me: I think CinemaSins is making note on "cultural appropriation," a prevalent thing in Hollywood (an American actor playing an English character), rather than literally how well an actor can do an accent. I mean, when oh when are we going to see a film where Simon Pegg plays Sherlock Holmes?! We're waiting!

2:58 CinemaSins: I don't know how good at deductive reasoning he is, but he wouldn't have been able to guess that that guy had a floating rib.

Bob: It's easy to guess considering floating ribs are the last two sets of ribs on your rib cage and are a natural part of human anatomy, which Sherlock is proficient in.

Me: It's NOT easy to deduce, considering the GUY IS WEARING CLOTHES, THEREBY COVERING HIS RIBS SO YOU CAN'T TELL IF HE HAS FLOATING RIB SYNDROME. Also, SHERLOCK IS CURRENTLY ENGAGING IN A FIGHT WITH SAID GUY. Have you ever tried to assess the state of a guy's ribs while having a fisticuff with him?

Me: Also, you used like the third Google image result that appears when you search "floating ribs," and I don't know how to feel about that, because I think you should have used the fourth Google image result instead, as that diagram illustrates things more clearly in my opinion (it shows the ribcage from the front, which was how Sherlock was viewing the man, rather than from the back).

3:21 CinemaSins: This guy seems to be late to the ceremony. He also didn't get the memo that they all didn't have to wear the hooded robes.

Bob: It's explained later that this is Lord Coward, who is using a robe to hide his identity.

Me: Yes, but WE, the audience, don't know that at this point in the film. So as we watch this for the first time, we're all thinking to ourselves, "Why aren't all the people wearing dark robes?!" Confusion that's resolved through later context is still confusion.

Me: Also, that joke made me laugh and reminded me of that absolutely ridiculous "robes scene" from the movie Dungeons and Dragons.

Me: And let's address the elephant in the room. No one like to be the one to yell "The Emperor has no clothes!" so please let me be the one to do it for you (and get eaten alive for it). The reason why so many people are jumping on CinemaSins right now in particular is because they did a Wonder Woman video. It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to see that the timelines add up.

Me: For those people who are like me who don't really watch American superhero films* (because we're too tangled up waiting with baited breath for The Adventures of Tintin sequel, because that's the comic book hero we grew up reading), Wonder Woman was a film that was well-received after what one reviewer described as "a long line of waiting apologies."

*Me: Footnote: I've watched The Incredibles and Batman 66, and I really liked those.

Me: Because Wonder Woman was a film that's popular, CinemaSins got in a lot of trouble because... apparently, people can't handle other people poking fun at something they like.

Me: Really, people. I'm disappointed in you. You're better than this.

Me: I hope I'm wrong about this, and people are just upset over CinemaSins' fact-checking. But one has to wonder why all the nitpick comments/videos started appearing now at the same time.

Me: Maybe I'm just weird, but I love it when people poke fun at stuff I like. Even my own work. I like watch LPs of my game played by others who are making cracks at it. I've been waiting for CinemaSins to do a video on one of my favourite films, The Adventures of Tintin: The Secret of the Unicorn, but to no avail. Even CinemaSins pokes fun at itself before other people did. But many people don't seem to be able to handle neither criticism of a work that is near perfect, nor laugh at a joke at the expense of a film they like.

Me: And, not to put too fine a point on it, Bertie, but that's part of a bigger problem.

Me: CinemaSins has a right to exist. Critiquing a video game creator's work is fine, I love getting criticism, in fact. It helps artists grow. But please, stop making posts and videos saying that CinemaSins should die. It isn't decent. And stop making comments like, "CinemaSins doesn't watch the films they cover." They would have to watch the films at some stage to edit the video together.

Me: Now, Bobvid also points out some flaws that are genuinely flaws in CinemaSins' videos (to the best of my knowledge), and that's something that CinemaSins can work on to improve and grow their repertoire. It is not, however, a good reason to have CinemaSins wiped off the face of the Earth.

Me: Just because I don't like something doesn't mean it shouldn't exist. I don't like something doesn't mean it should exist. I don't like strategy games, but I'm happy others enjoy them. I'm happy strategy games are becoming successful again.

Me: And yet, some people think that visual novel games shouldn't exist. Why? Because they don't like them.

4:46 Watson: How did you see that? Sherlock: Because I was looking for it.

CinemaSins: Sherlock doesn't say, "because even though it's clear, it reflects light and is still visible to the naked eye."

Bob: Yes, you and I can see it, but that doesn't mean Watson was able to see it from his perspective. Watson was rushing Blackwood and wasn't paying attention.

Me: Due to the Kuleshov Effect, and because Watson and Sherlock are standing next to each other by the end of the sequence, we can assume that Watson can see what Sherlock sees in this shot. Crumbs, due to the magic of Prevalent Film Language, we conclude to this thought without even registering it on a conscious because of the way the sequence is shot (shot of object, followed by shot of Watson and Sherlock looking offscreen in the same direction = they are looking at said object).

Me: Also, I noticed you labelled Sherlock and Watson as "Sherlock" and "Watson," respectively, in the subtitles. For proper design unity, shouldn't you have labelled them both by their first names (Sherlock and John) or their last names (Holmes and Watson)? I'm nitpicking, but that's the point.

5:44 CinemaSins: Yeah sure. You're totally under arrest, but you can walk around without anyone holding on to you to make sure you don't try to escape.

Bob: This is showing that even police fear Lord Blackwood. Though I guess it could be a setup for one of your sh**ty jokeyjokes too.

Me: *Still sniggering from CinemaSins' gag.* *Pauses.* *Put hands on hips.* What's wrong with jokey jokes?! Even if they're afraid, they're the police. It's their job to apprehend this guy, so it looks ridiculous when they don't. It's reaching Thompson and Thomson-levels of police bumbling in an otherwise darkish action film.

Me: Details add up. If a film has a ton of tiny details that don't work, they can add up and wreck the enjoyment of the film (see videos that analyse shot-for-shot remakes, like Psycho and Beauty and the Beast to see what I mean). I know artists who have worked on Rick and Morty and have talked about meetings discussing the design of a paper cup that a character has to hold. A paper cup.

Me: I've seen Twitter people make the argument that films are not meant to be totally logical, and instead are meant to hit you on a metaphorical level (that's why Disney's Snow White works). And that CinemaSins uses logic and literalisms too much. But (at the risk of explaining a joke, which I don't like doing) remember that we as creators often pose a statement that we don't agree with to make our viewers both laugh and self-reflect on whether we are telling a truth or not. I hope this makes sense.

Me: Also of note: Bob doesn't censor swear words in the audio nor the subtitles of this video. I had to do that myself. Even though CinemaSins censors swear words. And both CinemaSins and myself have stated publicly that we're fine with swearing used in videos. We just censor them in videos/essays respectively out of consideration for others who may not like hearing them.

Me: It's also sometimes important to censor video essays in case someone wants to use the video in an academic environment, such as being shown in a film school class that has strict profanity regulations (for example, Games As Literature's YouTube videos have been known to be showcased in academic courses on Video Game Theory, which is why he tries to exclude any swearing or gore in his videos).

Me: While we're on the subject of nitpick-jokes, I'd like to take a moment here to point out that that bit where CinemaSins points out that in one of the background areas of a two-second scene in Kingsman has a paper towel roll is hung the wrong way is one of the funniest things I've seen in a long time. Seriously, I was howling when that popped up!

Me: Several people on Twitter were asking why CinemaSins was funny. While I'm highly, highly against explaining jokes ("comedy dies quickly under the microscope"), I can try to maybe go point-to-point and explain why their jokes touch the funnybone. I'll bring Powerpoint slides.

8:12 CinemaSins: While I appreciate the way this movie uses boxing to show off Holmes' superior mind, the idea that a reclusive, agoraphobic investigator would regularly participate in chaotic grimy street fights. Is beyond what my suspension of disbelief can bear.

Bob: Holmes' penchant for boxing comes straight out of Arthur Conan Doyle's original stories, so suspend that disbelief because people have been doing it since 1890.

Me: While Sherlock being a skilled boxer is indeed canon in the novels, many Doyle fans (including myself, screenwriter Max Landis, and co-creator of BBC Sherlock, Mark Gatiss) consider this to be a flaw in the Sherlock novels, as it often totally imbalances the foil relationship between Holmes and Watson. Watson is meant to be more of the brawn than Sherlock because Sherlock is more of the brains than Watson. Making Sherlock a skilled fighter makes Watson less useful. Because of this, it's perfectly accepted (and often considered an improvement) among many Sherlock fans to re-write Sherlock as being flawed at fighting (in BBC Sherlock, Sherlock is terrible at using a gun on numerous occasions, and fails miserably at trying to box the Golem in season 1, episode 3.) and even works that are heavily-inspired by Sherlock Holmes use this dynamic (Max Landis is the creator of BBCA's Dirk Gently, where Dirk can be taken down in a fight very quickly and is surrounded by friends who are physically stronger than him; and I am working on The Butler Detective, which has the detective character Mel Ambrose being physically weak in a fight, and Tuski Brown being surprisingly strong from buttle-ing).

Me: The following images are from Max Landis' Twitter account:

9:59 Preacher: You are sentenced to death for the practice of black magic.

CinemaSins: Victorian London was pretty backwards, but not that backwards. Were they? Were they?

Bob: Considering a [demonic ritual abuse] panic of our own happened in the 1980s, it's not that strange at all.

Me: Yes, but Reality is Unrealistic. There have been written accounts of farmers seeing cows spontaneously exploding, but if I had put a scene in my slice of life farming video game (The Journey of Ignorance) where a cow explodes, no one playing the game would say, "That's improbable, but realistic." They'd say it was unbelievable. As the saying goes, "Truth is stranger than fiction, because fiction has to make sense." If you want the audience to believe something that's improbable, you either have to create a fictionalised world where it seems less improbable, or you have to do what Fargo does and write a disclaimer at the beginning saying that the events are based on a true story... Even when that's not true.

Me: Also, ritual panic isn’t strange? What?

10:58 Bob: It's pronounced "sh*t," not "[BEEP]."

Me: -_- And you say CinemaSins does jokeyjokes?

Me: I feel like I need to add a swear counter or something to this video at this point. 0_o

13:27 CinemaSins: Pretty sure there would be a separate woman's jail. Right? Right?

Bob: Up until 1902, men and women were held in the same prisons in London. Quit asking rhetorical questions. And. Do. Research.

Me: What, am I supposed to crack open a bally history book every time I finish watching a bally episode of Jeeves & Wooster?

Me: Look, critiques come in all shapes and sizes. Some write in an academic style (Roger Egbert), some candidly (Jeremy Jahns), some scathingly (Ebert again), some focus on the editing side of things (Folding Ideas), the animation side (AniMat Reviews), and others write like they're a modernised version of a PG Wodehouse character from the 1930s (me).

Me: My point is, some critics, like CinemaSins, critique films as they are, as the film is playing, in the moment.

Me: You know. Like the way an average audience member watches a movie?

Me: Let them. And let CinemaSins. It's a valid method to judge a film. "It takes all sorts to build a world." There's room for critics who review films by how they captured people emotionally, but there's also room for critics who observe films on a more literal level.

Me: I feel bad about critics like who critically assess both good and bad films. They make me laugh the most with their snarky with, yet they get a lot of flak for it. One independent gave development team (we dare not speak its name, unless in hushed whispers by candlelight on a full moon) even went as far as to try and sue several critics for negatively reviewing their games. This attempt to silence the critics all led to... well... Let's just say that the Streisand Effect amuses me to no end.

Me: I know there's this dislike towards negativity and "caustic critics," but it's actually healthy to have a good whinge.

Me: If you honestly can't stand CinemaSins' negative tone, then check out their sibling channel, CinemaWins. It takes good and bad films and points out the good or awesome elements in those films.

13:50 CinemaSins: You might be thinking "Amazing sense of smell doesn't make a good superhero," and I would respond by saying, "Remember Hawkeye? He gets to be a top tier avenger and all he can do is shoot a [BEEP]ing bow and arrow."

Bob: Hawkeye has a hoverbike, f**k you!

Me: Having a hoverboard is not a skill. Shooting with a bow and arrow IS a skill. I actually have to state this? I mean, he could give that hoverbike to anyone with a compatible drivers license and they could fly it in Hawkeye's place.

Me: Or was that another one of your jokeyjokes? *Wiggles eyebrows.*

Me: Also, WHO THE HECK IS HAWKEYE?!

14:23 CinemaSins: Movie repurposes "old-timey" footage from Les Mis and Shanghai Knights.

Bob: Les Mis, Shanghai Knights and Sherloch Holmes all filmed in Greenwich. I guess it's a sin to shoot in the same location. Is this just a sh**ty jokeyjoke or a legit piece of criticism? I honestly can't tell.

Me: It's a reference/homage to Hollywood constantly filming in certain locations to do film shoots (especially Canada, due to its tax differences). You see camera crews filming stuff all the time and even handing out notices that give info on what film/show they're working on and how long they'll be there. I'm probably in the background of 257 different films and television shows simply because I'm Canadian.

Me: Canadians have very, very mixed, passionate feelings about being used to film American movies that are virtually never set in actual Canada, so I'd count this as a movie sin, yes.

14:48 Bob: Why are jokes about ejaculating allowed in these videos but cursing isn't?

Me: For the same reason double entendre jokes were allowed in 1971's "The Two Ronnies," but cursing wasn't: Because double entendre has a layer of subtext that hides its taboo nature from younger audiences (making it often "go above their heads"), but swearing doesn't. Unless you censor it in some way.

Me: The Two Ronnies' comedy sketch "Crossed Lines" literally has every other line a sex-related joke and it's considered to be a masterpiece of English double entendre. Check it out.

17:46: CinemaSins: The three main characters take down all-20-plus henchmen without the slightest injury.

Bob: By "20-plus henchmen" do you really mean six dudes?

Me: Hey, we're all allowed to hyperbole. I've been doing it like 50 times in this essay alone. :D

17:53 Adler: Moriarty. Please don't underestimate him.

CinemaSins: Irene is just saying "and we need a plot for the next movie."

Bob: Would you prefer the sequel to have a villain that comes out of nowhere, or is teased a little bit? Do all those Marvel post-credits scenes with Thanos make you really mad?

Me: I would prefer a film to be restrained enough to not sequel bait and allow itself to be its own, self-contained story.

Me: Also, sequel-baiting is slowly growing to be a hugely frowned-upon trend in films. It can smack of the creators being over-confident that they'll get enough money to warrant a sequel (The Last Airbender film anyone?) and well as manipulating the audience in an underhanded way. People are getting upset over sequel hooks, especially this year (2017) with films like King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (which was revealed to be a setup to six more films. I kid you not.), The Snowman (which was planned on being possibly a franchise. Which is ironic, since the film is literally incomplete but was released anyway), The Dark Tower (which was meant to lead to a television series), and Murder on the Orient Express (which ends with a sequel hook that, if you've read Agatha's Christie's Death on the Nile, creates a staggering plotting issue that I honestly have no idea how the writers will get around if the sequel does get made).

Me: I don't watch Marvel movies, so I don't know if Thanos makes me mad. Would he make me mad? Probably.

18:55 Bob: (Final Tally) Closing remarks: I have never seen someone simultaneously watch and not watch a film before. So thanks for that I guess.

Me: I've never had to type so much nitpicking-related stuff about a nitpicker before. Not since last Tuesday. So thanks for that I guess.

Me: No, really, thanks for that, Bob. This was cathartic. Genuinely.

Me: If people want to nitpick my nitpick of nitpicking and nitpicker who is nitpicking another nitpicker who's nitpicking a movie, please fell free to. Whatever you title it is bound to be hilarious, and I could do with a jolly good laugh.

-Katy

Also, here's Bobvid's YouTube Channel. *cough*Shameless plug he didn't ask for but I'm adding it anyway.*cough*

Bob, you've been a sweetheart. Keep making your videos.

"I hated this movie. Hated hated hated hated hated this movie. Hated it. Hated every simpering stupid vacant audience-insulting moment of it. Hated the sensibility that thought anyone would like it. Hated the implied insult to the audience by its belief that anyone would be entertained by it."- From Roger Ebert's review of North (1994)

Gee, I hope I don’t come off as too narky in this essay. This is such a big experiment. I’m so nervous about this ahhhhhhh--

#films #literature

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yuvilee · 5 years

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12th November 2019: 2019-20 ART4001 Critical Debates EXHIBITION VISIT

Table of content:

Introduction: Lost and found, displayed and hidden world Main part: Floating World Preservation and artistically approach Re-Print Create connections Thoughts in general about my V&A visit Disconnected reconnection Conclusion Notes: Books and articles Pictures

Visited Exhibitions:

Exhibition 1 - Victoria and Albert Museum: Manners and Modernity: Ukiyo-e and etiquette on the Seibu Railway Exhibition 2 - Victoria and Albert Museum: Landscape and Language in Artists' Books Exhibition 3 - Victoria and Albert Museum: Making an Impression: The Art of Relief Printmaking Exhibition 4 - Victoria and Albert Museum: Beatrix Potter’s Art: 'drawn with design' Exhibition 5 - The Barbican: Into the Night: Cabarets & Clubs in Modern Art

Introduction

Let’s start with a question everyone comes across in his/her life eventually, sometimes more often, sometimes less often - that depends on how concerned or engaged a person is: how do we, as adults, encourage good manners in our society?

Or, to be less precise and more about the bigger picture, how can we see the forgotten and the unseen things around us?

Not the news and discussions happening around us right now, those on the internet, on TV, on Podcasts, Newspapers or SocialMedia. It’s about things that got lost between the news, between the SocialMedia about self-expression and individualism. How can we learn to really look and conserve something before it gets lost forever? Before we can do that, we need to know that things are there to be conserved, that this object might soon be gone, not relevant anymore, something as mundane as library cards, postcards from holiday stays, letters written by hand, advertisement for the circus or theatre, or something that could be lost forever, such as a language, maybe due to changing society and etiquette or because no one speaks it any longer.

Most of the answer is to collect those things, record them and display them to make people aware. This, however, needs people that do look openly around and find and collect. People that are aware of something becoming lost otherwise and organisations that want to help to conserve and have the financial backing and space to put those things on display.

We live in a fast-paced world - news that was current 2 hours ago could already be outdated right now; just like following a sports game, news about ongoing investigations or Twitter posts. Part of right now is already in the past. We live in a fluid world.

Exhibitions often display past events and art and because they can teach or imbue us with new ideas, I chose to visit some and find inspiration for my own work.

Floating world

Above: My screenshot of Japanese woodblock prints (ukiyo-e), (2019).

With short-lived art representing the day's events, the displays of ‘Manners and Modernity: Ukiyo-e and etiquette on the Seibu Railway’ translate Japanese wood prints to the modern era. They teach us, while remembering the ‘good old days’ of manners and customs, and open us up to be more aware of our surroundings with a funny twist. Maybe this funny attachment to daily nuisances gives the viewer enough self-awareness through humour.

My thoughts: It seems to be a common theme in public transport around the world to use humour and subversion to instil manners. What else uses this kind of mix for similar incitements? The boundaries between art to advertisement can be blurry. At what point does advertisement become art? When does art become advertisement? (This is nothing new, see the Pop Art movement beginning in the 60s) Where else might art be used as a starting point for advertisement? Besides this example, what other places use humour to instil manners nowadays?

Above: My screenshot of Manners and Modernity: Ukiyo-e and etiquette on the Seibu Railway, (2019).

(Not completely related but similar funny commercial for manners in public transport(1).)

Preservation and artistically approach

Above: My screenshot of UNESCO Atlas of the World's Languages in Danger, (2019).

Landscape in artist’s books: Although unfortunately, no audio recordings of the language were preserved in this project by Nancy Campbell, this exhibition is still important and cleverly composed(2). The melting Arctic changes its course. What is left of it will never be the same again. The combination of an endangered language with polysynthetic, ambiguous words places the urgency of climate change in a new context. The combination and contrast between color, white parts, and font creates a multi-layered aesthetic. It is combined with other artist’s books such as ‘Die wiese; The meadow: eschenau 1986-2013′) by dutch artist Herman de Vries, who documented his work of bringing a small patch of farmland back to its original state(3).

My thoughts: How can artists take part in preservation and renovation? How should artists treat such a topic? Should they behave like archaeologists or can they be in free correspondence and take an artistic approach? Is there public interest and funding? This display was quite small, hence my question whether this kind of exhibition would draw more people in if it would be on extensive display with more artist’s books? Are people even interested in artist’s books showcasing sujets like this?

Above: My collage of Landscape and Language in Artists' Books. Left: Campbell, N. (2011) How to Say ‘I Love You’ in Greenlandic: An Arctic Alphabet. Right side: de Vries, H., de Vries, S. (2013) Die wiese; The meadow: eschenau 1986-2013, (2019).

Re-Print

Making an Impression: The Art of Relief Printmaking. Well-known methods of expression, such as printmaking, can be set on display to present an overview, a variety from current art directions, and highlight special variations over the decades. Relief printmaking has been around for a long time and the exhibition shows that this method is constantly being redrafted and readapted to current art movements with an appropriate voice and scaffolding.

My thoughts: The displayed works showcased a broad variety of fine art to newspaper illustrations, once again underlining the question of art versus commerce. Is it necessary to draw a line, as exhibitions like this and the mentioned Japanese works with different backgrounds back to back?

Entering this exhibition I was asked by the staff whether I knew about this exhibition or was just passing by. This exhibition spanned two rooms and had a broad display including Munch, Picasso, Beatrix Potter, and William Blake who have a massive show at Tate Britain right now(4). However, this exhibition was barely visited. I believe displaying artwork in context to a classification, influence, certain methods instead of a focus on one’s Oeuvre, can present new and interesting impressions to visitors.

My pictures of the exhibition ‘Making an Impression: The Art of Relief Printmaking’, (2019).

Create connections

Beatrix Potter's art: 'drawn with design': The display is rather short-winded with mostly sketches and some letters she made for her childhood friends. These are showing a very sincere and interested approach for her surroundings without revealing too much about the subjects of the letters (meaning: no additional information on display).

Introducing this aspect of her encourages visitors to rediscover something handmade or even to send a letter to someone dear.

The fact that they have mainly shown sketches gives the whole exhibition the charm of imperfection. The sketches show that she really learned to draw animal characters through observation. While sketching from the sketches myself, I overheard visitors saying, "Oh, I should do that!". An exhibition can remind people of certain cultural values and perhaps even bring them back to pick habits up again or at least to try to.

My thoughts: I wonder whether there were only so few letters left? Could exhibitions like these get people back to crafting and handwriting? By displaying sketches, are exhibitors serving the broad audience or is this rather for a niche audience? How can letters be presented so that everyone can read and enjoy them when considering the difficulty of some handwriting, language differences, and font size.

Can exhibitions support educational organisations like The National Literacy Trust tackling literacy issues in children and adults? A quote on their website struck me:

‘Overall, fewer children and young people in 2017/18 said that they enjoy writing compared with the year before, decreasing from 50.7% to 49.2%.’(5).

My collage of the exhibition Beatrix Potter's art: 'drawn with design'. Left: exhibition panels, right: detail of her letters, (2019).

Thoughts in general about my V&A visit:

Should an exhibition be measured by its amount of content? If I would be interested in themes like the ones above, how can I find such exhibitions, when advertisement is mostly for larger exhibitions.

How educational should exhibitions be?

The ones I visited were displays of material only, none of them were interactive or provided additional digital information. Does an exhibition nowadays have to be modern to lure more visitors in? Is there something like exhibitions tailored for scholars and exhibitions for a bigger audience? Should those perhaps exist?

Disconnected reconnection

This brings me to my last exhibition, Into the Night: Cabarets and Clubs in Modern Art, which showed a combination of forms of expression, art in paintings, print and objects, poetry and music as well as interior and exterior design. The cabarets, cafés and clubs all tried to actively imbue people with new ideas and provide nourishment for artists of all kinds to create an interdisciplinary exchange and networking platform. At the same time they were meeting points for a certain scene, which had certain manners, a certain language, and expression which made them appealing for a niche clientele.

The displays were of broad variety, showcasing the scene in different cultures from all over the globe. Colour schemes, architecture and art on display gave each area a distinctive vibe. While Mexico City and Ibadan (Nigeria) were very colourful, northern Europe Cities were more settled in colours and in a closed framework (especially Strasbourg). A surprise somehow was Tehran to me, I knew that it had a western-related history in 1966 - 69, but seeing actual parts of it made me sad. A similarly interesting situation for me personally was when other students pointed out paintings in the part about Berlin and I was able to explain to them the Expressionism and Dadaism scenes in Germany and about ‘degenerate art’ and its prohibition and destruction in the rise of the Nazi era.

But there was a sterile disconnection between the lively scenery they depicted and the visitors. There was some music to be heard, some videos played and some rooms somehow recreated, but everything seemed far too dull, items separated into areas for advertisement, areas for art and areas for the interior. Thus, the exhibition in its form remains closed to the viewer in that it can not show everything, because not everything could be restored.

My thoughts: I can imagine it to be a big task to display so many different parts equally. I recognised many female artists and ethical minorities on display. Did they prioritise those? Could this exhibition work in other venues even better, perhaps with the possibility to showcase more audio and audio-visual samples? Would a documentary series work even better? VR could have been added, too, did they consider it? I felt disconnected from this exhibition even though I found it very interesting and I am interested in learning more about different aspects of it such as Tehran’s past, Ibadan, Hannah Höch(6), Harlem’s history and music from its cafés and clubs.

My collage of the exhibition Into the Night: Cabarets and Clubs in Modern Art, (2019).

Conclusion:

We can only see what an exhibition shows to us and that is never the full representation of the original thought or the past that is depicted in an attempt to conserve it. The limitations are many, in terms of venue size, available exhibits, or the chosen media. Much could have been shown differently by using different technological solutions but the question remains - what was intended to be shown, and did it achieve this result? Nevertheless, as long as people collect, exhibit, and attempt to show, items and ideas can be preserved for others to a degree and more so they can inspire visitors to their own ideas.

Notes:

Books and articles

Megginson, T., (2011) Don’t behave like an animal on public transit, Asocio. Available at: https://osocio.org/message/dont-behave-like-an-animal-on-public-transit/ (Accessed on: 17th November 2019).

cf. Campbell, N. (2011) How to Say ‘I Love You’ in Greenlandic: An Arctic Alphabet, Oxford: Bird Editions. (On her website further information as well as a video about the book can be found. Available at: http://nancycampbell.co.uk/work/artists-books/how-to-say-i-love-you-in-greenlandic-an-arctic-alphabet/ (Accessed on: 17th November 2019).

cf. de Vries, H., de Vries, S. (2013) Die wiese; The meadow: eschenau 1986-2013, Eindhoven: Uitgeverij Lecturis B.V..

cf. William Blake (2019-2020) [Exhibition]. Tate Britain. 11 September 2019 – 2 February 2020.

National Literacy Trust (2019) Children and young people’s writing in 2017/18. Available at: https://literacytrust.org.uk/research-services/research-reports/children-and-young-peoples-writing-201718/ (Accessed on: 17th November 2019).

I only knew her from my studies about picture books and artist’s books. cf. Höch, H. (2008) Bilderbuch, Berlin: The Green Box.

Picture(s)

Victoria & Albert Museum (2019), [Screenshot]. Available at: https://www.vam.ac.uk/articles/japanese-woodblock-prints-ukiyo-e (Accessed on: 17th November 2019).

Victoria & Albert Museum (2019), [Screenshot]. Available at: https://www.vam.ac.uk/event/RnRde4V8/manners-and-modernity-ukiyo-e-and-etiquette-on-the-seibu-railway (Accessed on: 17th November 2019).

UNESCO Atlas of the World's Languages in Danger (2019), [Screenshot]. Available at: http://www.unesco.org/languages-atlas/index.php?hl=en&page=atlasmap (Accessed on: 17th November 2019).

Landscape and Language in Artists' Books (2019-2021) [Exhibition]. Victoria & Albert Museum. Tuesday, 5 November 2019 – Sunday, 4 April 2021.

Making an Impression: The Art of Relief Printmaking (2019-2020) [Exhibition]. Victoria & Albert Museum. Monday, 9 September 2019 – Sunday, 13 September 2020.

Beatrix Potter's art: 'drawn with design'. (2019) [Exhibition]. Victoria & Albert Museum. Monday, 18 February – Sunday, 17 November 2019.

Into the Night: Cabarets and Clubs in Modern Art (2019-2020) [Exhibition]. Barbican Centre. Friday, 4 October 2019—Sunday, 19 Januar 2020.

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georrggiiaaa · 5 years

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evaluation for place of words

On the day of our brief we were given two words to base our book around. One word would be for the setting and one would be for the context; mine were symbol and political. To begin with we wrote a list of 20 synonyms for each of the original words. At first we thought it would be easy to come up with a list of 20, however, after some time we had to resort to thesauruses to complete our list. From the list I managed to whittle it down to 3 pairs of words and eventually came up with a final set: opinions and leaders. I wanted to make it a book full of quotes which are opinions on, well of matter of opinion, the four most (in)famous politicians in the news at the moment: Theresa May, Donald Trump, Nigel Farage and Boris Johnson. One theme I definitely wanted to incorporate was that it would be a satirical book.

From here I went onto find my text. I watched several episodes of ‘Mock the Week’ and ‘Have I Got News For You’ and listened out for any segments about the specific leaders I have included in my book. After this I decided to read news articles on events I knew about that I could create both a reaction from the reading audience and to relate my imagery to.

I then started to create some rough imagery. I decided to go with collage as the style of imagery I wanted to create. To start off I looked very broadly on Pinterest at collage illustration to see what sort of thing I could create and after this went onto looking at specific artist such as Katy Lemay. I wanted to include metaphorical imagery in my piece; what I mean by this is that when a word is mentioned, lets say orange for the Donald Trump page, I would include oranges in the collage. I thought that this would help to add to the satirical element of the book.

Throughout the project I think the most drastic changes I made were to do with the typography. My first mock up compared to my last has a huge difference. I started off with a point size of 15; however it makes a huge difference once you print out the mock up as it looked huge! Since then I change it to 9pt. I also changed my fonts as in one tutorial the body text was described as ‘Microsoft default font’ which isn’t the vibe I wanted my book to give.

I think this has been a learning curve for me; I may have started the project thinking I had plenty of time however 7 weeks flies by when you have the much work to do!

I found the feedback extremely useful... especially the group criteria sessions as this enabled me to gain feedback from another students perspective. I learned a lot of things as no one in the class has the same style and I think this can be great when giving constructive criticism.

I think there are definitely areas of my practice that need improvement. Some of them are basics like reading through my work properly to prevent widows and orphans; some are more technical like my editorial skills when using a grid on indesign.

These areas are new to me and I have learnt a lot of skills. These include the workshops and inductions I did with Joseph using letterpress and bookbinding. I found these so useful as I knew I already had an interest in them, letterpress especially, and now I can add it to my skillset.

Overall I am fairly happy about how my project has turned out overall. However a huge part of it I would change is the amount of progression I have recorded. I think that because I was focussing a lot on the blog and adding all of the sessions into that I had forgotten about recording my processes. However as this is my first project I will definitely learn from this and try to record more throughout my next ones.

I would also change the way I bound my book. I was so eager to finish I think I rushed it in the end with the stapling and didn’t align it properly.

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razzmatash · 7 years

Text

Doubt (ffxv)

Pairing: Gladio x f!oc

Word Count: 3927

Ao3 Link

The Misadventures of Eerie: Insomnia --- Outlands

Summary: Sex first, dinner second. They did it backwards so where does that leave them?

Note: Dusty belongs to @artsybizaar <3

Rubbing the back of her neck, Eyra walked out of her room and sighed happily. She could smell coffee and breakfast and she was so happy for that. She hadn’t been looking forward to making her own this morning. Granted she hadn’t really wanted to get out of bed either. Gladio hadn’t stayed that late last night but she’d slept like the dead after he’d left. She hadn’t even stayed awake long enough to say goodnight to her uncle.

“Morning,” she said softly, kissing his cheek as she moved past where he was sitting.

His gaze flicked to her and then back down to the tablet in his hands. “Morning.”

She paused, glancing at him again. Something was odd about his tone. “Is something wrong?” she asked, pouring a cup of coffee for herself. No point in dancing around it.

“No.”

That was a lie but she finished with her coffee and grabbed the covered plate on the counter. Setting her breakfast down, she climbed onto the barstool across from his and gave him a look. “Kal, out with it,” she said. “Something’s bothering you. Did something happen? Did I do something?”

Kal kept looking at his tablet before he sighed and put it down. “No, you didn’t do anything, Eerie. Nothing bad.”

But she had done something. Taking the cover off the dish, she nibbled on a piece of toast for a moment. Wasn’t too hard to figure out what the problem was since there was only one thing that had changed recently. “This about Gladio?” she asked quietly, sipping at her coffee.

He sighed again, wrapping his hands around his cup but not drinking it.

“Uncle,” she said firmly. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I’m your uncle and I've been responsible for you since you were six,” he said dryly. “It’s my job to worry about you, Eerie.”

“Well, what are you worried about? I thought you liked him.”

“Haven’t really had a chance to form an opinion of him since I only really talked to him yesterday morning while you were still asleep.”

Eerie leaned back in her chair and thought about that. “Nothing happened while I was drunk,” she assured him. “He didn’t take advantage of me if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Kal stared at her across the table.

“Do you want like a detailed report of what happened?” she asked, staring back at him. “We had sex, twice, and I’m not dumb, we used protection both times.”

“That’s not,” Kal groaned and shook his head. “You’re an adult and we’ve had this conversation before. It’s your body and your choice who you share it with. I know you’re not dumb when it comes to keeping yourself safe. I’ve never doubted that, Eyra.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said shortly.

“What do you mean?” she asked, confused.

“Eerie, you’ve gone from simply seeing him on your jogs in the park to having sex with him twice in one day.”

“We had a date too,” Eyra pointed out, suddenly feeling self conscious. She knew her uncle wasn’t trying to shame her for having sex; Kal had never cared about who she had sex with or how often. As long as she was safe, he was fine with it. But she didn’t know what this was.

“Was it actually a date?”

“Uncle,” she said, frowning at him. “Why would you say that? Gladio’s a good guy. We just kinda did this backwards.”

Kal pursed his lips before shaking his head. “I just worry about you, Eyra. I don’t want you rushing into something and getting hurt because he’s not on the same page as you.”

She stared at him, even more confused. “I’ve had one night stands before and you’ve never acted like this with them.”

“Because they were just one night stands,” he stressed. “You both knew that and accepted it. You’ve been interested in Gladio since you met him, enough for me to realise who he was without actually being introduced when he showed up in my house. You want a relationship with him but do you know what he wants?”

Eyra kept staring at him. She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected this and it was kind of dulling her whole enjoyment of yesterday. She hadn’t thought to even doubt Gladio’s intentions, not with what he’d said while they’d been together. But now Kal was making her wonder if he actually meant it or if he’d just said it in the moment.

“Shit, sweetie, I’m sorry. Not the best conversation for the morning.”

She waved her hand, trying to smile for him. “It’s okay,” she said. “You’re just looking out for me.”

He looked sad now. “I’m still sorry. I didn’t want to throw all of that at you this morning but I haven’t really seen you since you went out the other night.”

“Uncle,” she said, smiling properly for him. “I know and…you’re right. Just because I want him to be my boyfriend, doesn’t mean that’s what he wants.”

“Eerie,” he sighed.

“Uncle,” she countered. “It’s okay. Like I told him, I’m a big girl. I can handle it if it was just sex.” And she would. She’d be very disappointed though and…hurt if she was honest with herself because if he was just looking for a booty call, what was with dinner? Or cuddling with her? Or staying the entire fucking night with her when she’d been drunk?

“Eat your breakfast,” Kal said softly. “Try not to think about it for now. When will you see him next?”

She shrugged, picking up her fork. “Don’t know. Not like either of us have a lot of free time.”

“Well, I’m sorry for shoving this at you before your shift.”

“Don’t be, Uncle. I’m not. It’s something I need to address before I get in too deep.”

He stood up, coming around the table to kiss her head. “I have to go start up the kitchen. Swing by before you leave and I’ll have something for you to take.”

“Okay,” she agreed, watching him walk to the door. As soon as he was gone, she dropped her fork and pressed her hands into her eyes. “Fuck,” she muttered. This was not what she had needed this morning. Not when she could still feel his hands moving over her. Not when she had seen the red marks on her breasts from his mouth. Not when she’d been trying to figure out when she could see him again. God dammit.

Forcing herself to eat quickly, breakfast sat heavily in her stomach as she went back into her room to change into her scrubs. She didn’t glance at her bed as she pulled them on, tried not to think about how they’d lazily talked after they’d had sex. Laying against him, tracing patterns on his chest while he’d stroked her back and played with her hair as they’d talked about nothing in particular.

Eyra shook her head sharply. She needed to get her head in work mode. She didn’t need this kind of distraction before she went into a shift. She’d been gone for two days so who even knew what kind of shit show she was about to walk into at the hospital.

Grabbing her bag and coat, she picked up her phone and hesitated for a moment. The simple solution would be to text Gladio and ask him what they were. Was it just the booty call that he’d talked about in the first place or the more he’d mentioned in the next breath? But it was six am and she didn’t think he’d appreciate her texting him this early in the morning, no matter how early she’d called him the other night.

And she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer to that right now.

The phone got shoved into her pocket and she left her bedroom. A quick check to make sure she had her keys and she was out the door.

Swinging into the diner, she poked her head into the kitchen. “I’m heading out, Uncle,” she told Kal.

He looked at her and she could tell he still regretted what he’d said. “Lunch,” he said, pointing at the bag set near the door.

She picked it up and started to open it.

“No, Eerie, have it be a surprise for you.”

Blinking at him, she smiled. “Alright. I’ll see you when I get home,” she said, ducking back out.

“Stay safe, Eyra.”

She waved over her shoulder as she left the diner. The city was still asleep around her as she started down the street toward the station. She’d barely gotten her headphones untangled when she felt her phone vibrate. Ignoring it was hard because she really wanted to see who it was but she forced herself to get sorted before she did.

Tapping through the gates to the trains, she plugged in her headphones and her shoulders dropped a little as she saw the message on the screen, along with who it was from. And then she immediately felt bad.

Still alive?

Dusty. She’d be concerned about why her friend was awake at this hour but she wasn’t sure exactly where Dusty was in the Outlands right now. Must have been one of the outposts or small towns if she actually had service on that piece of shit she called a phone. Yep. Heading to work. You?

The platform was mostly empty but she still moved toward the front of it, putting distance between her and everyone else.

Idiots making my life difficult. I just got off shift. Wanna tell me about the party?

The party. Right, that was why she’d been at the club the other night. She’d completely forgotten in light of everything else that happened. It was alright, she wrote as a train pulled up.

It was empty so she quickly found a seat and huddled down in it.

What happened?

Eyra pursed her lips. There wasn’t much point in keeping it a secret and Dusty would be madder at her that she hadn’t said anything when she found out. Because she would find out. There was no way Eyra would be able to honestly keep this a secret for long. …I got laid.

She squeezed her eyes shut as soon as she hit send, knowing what she had just opened herself up to. Sure as shit, her phone buzzed almost immediately.

Wait, WHAT?!

Her nose wrinkled a little but she couldn’t help her smile. At least Dusty was responding the way she expected. Before she could respond another message came through.

Who the fuck did you sleep with?! Wait! The guy from the park?!

Of course she remembered. Although, it wasn’t like she really had a guy in her life beyond the one she’d been running into on her jogs. Yes, him.

The sun stung her eyes a little as the train came out from the underground and she stared out at the city without really seeing anything.

Yes, him? That’s all you have to say for yourself? Fuck that, Eerie! Deets! DEETS!

A startled laugh left Eyra before she nearly dropped her phone when it started ringing. “Dusty, oh my god,” she said, still laughing as she answered.

“Hey, best friend getting laid deserved an actual, real conversation!”

Eyra shook her head, glancing around to make sure the car was still empty. “You’re horrible.”

“And you’re not giving me what I want. What happened? Tell me everything!”

“Everything?” she echoed.

“You know what I mean, bitch. Stop stalling!”

Grinning despite herself, Eyra quietly said, “Well, he finally texted me back the other night after I gave him my number weeks ago and in my drunken state…I called him at one am.”

“You fucking didn’t!” Dusty cackled. “Oh, my god, Eerie, what?!”

“He was the first number that came up,” she said, sighing. “If you’d texted me last, I would have called you.”

Dusty snorted. “Fat lot of good that woulda done you. But what happened? He obviously answered.”

“Yeah, came out to the club and everything.” He wouldn’t have done that if it was just a booty call right? Even if that’s what he’d originally thought it was? “Walked my drunk ass home too.”

“Holy shit, seriously? He got you to walk across the city?”

“It was more I wouldn’t get in the cab,” she muttered, ignoring the way it made Dusty laugh. “He spent the night because it was late and…we had sex the next morning.” She glanced around the car and was glad it was still empty. She probably should have thought about where this conversation was going to go before she’d answered it in public.

“We had sex the next morning? Want to try again?”

“What do you want me to say? I asked him to have sex, he said yes, we had sex.”

“Ugh, you haven’t gotten laid in how long? I haven’t gotten laid in longer. Give me a little more than that, please? You’re acting like it wasn’t good.”

“It was good,” Eyra said softly, tugging on the chain around her neck. “Better than good. I’d say it was the best sex I had if it wasn’t for that second time.”

“Second…?! Explain!”

Her gaze flicked up as she saw a couple people walk onto the car. “Can I call you back?”

“No! You’re not leaving me in suspense all fucking day over this!”

Eyra rolled her eyes. “Well, after that first time,” she said quietly, “we went out on a da…dinner. We went out for dinner and I didn’t want it to end there. Neither did he so he stayed longer.”

“Barring the lack of details, what was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Eerie.”

“Dusty.”

“Eerie, seriously.”

“My uncle,” she muttered, flicking an imaginary piece of lint off her bag. “I was fine and then he had to mention that maybe it was just sex. That maybe dinner wasn’t a date and all he was looking for was a booty call.”

Dusty snorted. “You’re usually the one calling people for that,” she muttered back. “But hey, did it feel like a booty call or the start of something magical?”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Seriously though,” she said. “Did it feel like a date or a booty call?”

Eyra looked out the window again, sighing. “I thought it was a date,” she admitted. “I wanted it to be a date.”

“Dinner isn’t usually involved in booty calls,” Dusty agreed. “Honestly, from everything you’ve told me, you two have been flirting for months. Months. A guy generally won’t put that much effort in if all he wants is in your pants. Did he pay for dinner?”

She blinked, frowning slightly. “Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Eerie, come on. The guy likes you and at least he seems decent enough if he walked you across Insomnia.”

“Yeah,” she said softly.

“Hey?”

“Mm?”

“How big is his dick?”

“Dusty!” Eyra laughed, quickly covering her mouth at how loud she was. “What the fuck?” she hissed.

“Big? Thick? Small? Deets!”

She shook her head and pushed herself off her seat. “I can’t believe you.”

“Tell me!” she said, dragging out the words.

Stepping off the train, she walked across the platform and muttered, “Biggest I’ve had yet.”

“…Including toys?”

Her nose wrinkled. “I didn’t fucking measure him,” she growled, tapping her card against the gate to get out. “But maybe?”

“God damn! You walking alright?”

Eyra rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Yes, you are, beside the point.”

She groaned. “That’s not what I meant!” she growled, moving up the stairs.

“Well, if mister dick bigger than my toys fucked you as good as you keep not telling me you should be sore.”

“I’m alright,” she said. “Guess I got used to him.”

Dusty laughed sharply. “Girl fucks him twice in one day and thinks she’s used to his dick? Wow, Eerie.”

“Shut up,” Eerie laughed. “I mean, it won’t matter anyways if it was just a one time thing.”

“Okay, sweetie, come on. You know the simple solution to this and you’ve been dancing around it the entire conversation. If you want an answer, ask him.”

Pausing at a street corner, Eyra sighed. “Is it stupid that I’m scared?” she asked softly.

“No. You’ve never really been in a serious relationship before so why wouldn’t you be scared about maybe being in one? Especially if Kal put that one night stand thought in your head. But, Eerie, seriously, you need to talk to him. There’s no point in working yourself into a tizzy over this for either outcome. It would be better to know as soon as possible if this was just a one time thing so you don’t get your hopes up for more. But, honey, what if he wants that more too? You really going to sit around and fret when you’re literally holding the technology that can give you an answer right away?”

Slowing as she neared the hospital, Eyra thought about that. She never really had had a serious relationship. It had mostly been flings and they’d been over before they’d really gone anywhere. But she’d been interested in Gladio for months now and hadn’t made a real move on him. Was it because right from the start she had wanted more than just sex? And now was she terrified it was just sex because she wanted more now?

“Eerie?”

“I’ll text him,” she promised.

“And?”

She laughed. “I’ll tell you,” she added.

“Damn rights you will!”

“I’m almost at work, Dusty,” she said, starting up the stairs. “I’ll text you okay?”

“Text him first! And call me when you get home!”

She rolled her eyes again. “Yes, Mom.”

“Shut it and do it!”

Hanging up as she shook her head, Eyra made herself tap on the messages icon. He hadn’t messaged her since they’d talked about where to meet at the mall. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that she’d told him she was a big girl and she was. It was one simple question and hopefully a simple answer. She just had to ask.

Fuck, how did she ask?

Walking to the locker room, she wracked her brain, trying to think of how to phrase this. Do it wrong and she’d seem desperate or needy or any other thing that wasn’t attractive. But she needed to know.

She’d gotten all of her stuff put away and was five minutes away from having to clock in when she picked up her phone again.

Boyfriend?

That…was a horrible way to phrase it. Holy shit, she needed to not send it like that. Her finger hovered over highlighting the entire thing to delete it. She couldn’t ask it like that. She needed to think of a better-

“Eyra! Come on, we’ve got our work cut out for us!”

Jerking, she looked at the speaker. “Oh, fuck, seriously?” she growled.

The other woman shrugged and jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “C’mon.”

“Coming,” she sighed, looking at her phone again. Her eyes widened when she saw that the message had sent and she nearly swore again. What?! No! That wasn’t! Fuck!

“Eyra?”

Setting her phone to completely silent, she shoved it in her pocket and slammed her locker closed. Holy fuck. That was just great. That was just fucking great. She wasn’t going to look at her phone once today. She should just delete his number and block it so she wouldn’t have to see the response to that. Fucking. Idiot. She was never listening to Dusty again.

The text slipped from her mind as her shift started. There wasn’t much time to think of anything but the job as the hours ticked by.

Her feet ached as she stood at the main nurse station and just breathed. A couple days off wasn’t enough to make her forget what this place was like but she missed the whole not having anything hanging over her head while she didn’t have a shift. That wonderful drifting she had done all day yesterday thinking about-

Eyra wobbled as she remembered why she’d spent most of yesterday drifting and what she had done this morning.

“Girl, go take your lunch. You’re running yourself off your feet!”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, putting her hands in her pockets and gripping her cell phone. Had he texted back? Had he read that stupid fucking message and actually given it a response? She sure as fuck hoped not.

“I wasn’t asking, Eyra. I was telling and as your boss you have to listen to me.”

She scrunched her nose. “I’m really fine.”

“Don’t care. Go. It’s been five hours. Take your lunch.”

Blowing out her cheeks, she turned on her heel and walked away. She hadn’t realised it had been so long already. That was the nice thing about working here at least. Most days went by fast enough that you didn’t notice how long you’d been working. But she really didn’t want to take a break now that she’d remembered the text she’d sent.

She grabbed her lunch from her locker, still ignoring her phone. She made it into the cafeteria, tucking herself into a seat near the windows. Scrubbing her hands over her face, she grimaced at herself. What was she doing? She’d asked him to have sex while she was drunk, left the bathroom door open so he could have sex with her when she was sober, and invited him upstairs after they’d had dinner. She could check a damn text message to see if he’d answered her or not.

But the phone was quickly placed face down as soon as she checked the screen. He had texted her. Holy shit, he’d texted her back. Taking a deep breath, Eyra tried to find some of that boldness she usually had and turned the phone back over.

Girlfriend?

She stared at the screen, her heart in her throat. Had he…? Was that a confirmation? Granted, it was a stupid as fuck text so he might not understand. It wasn’t like she’d messaged him again to explain since she’d been embarrassed at what she’d sent.

She started to write him back but her thoughts were all over the place. How did she clarify this? Did she need to clarify this? Did he understand what she’d been trying and failing to say? She blinked when the little bubble popped up to show he was writing her as well.

Just so you know, that was the best thing anyone has ever sent me.

...what do you mean? It hadn’t seemed that great to her. It was probably the dumbest thing she’d done, beyond asking him for sex when she was drunk...or calling him at one am.

Babe, you texted me at six am asking if I was your boyfriend. What isn’t the best about that?

Eyra let out an explosive sigh and slumped over the table, pushing her lunch to the side. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Well, he’d definitely understood her...and wait. He’d called her girlfriend! Staying on the table, she grabbed her phone again. So...that means we’re dating right?

We better be since I’ve told anyone that asked where I’ve been that I was with my girlfriend.

She bit down on her lip to keep from smiling and pulled her phone a little closer to her. She liked that. She really liked that. Good.

Brat.

She grinned at her phone. You have no idea.

I’m gonna find out.

Her smile softened as she sat back up. If you stick around, yeah.

Babe. I’m not going anywhere.

#final fantasy #ffxv #gladiolus amicitia #gladio amicitia #gladiolus x oc #my writing #fanfiction #the misadventures of eerie #part one insomnia #eyra ulric

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illyriantremors · 8 years

Text

Beneath the Stars Chapter 3

Chapter: I II

AO3 Linkage

Summary: Feyre finally makes it to her first art class of the week with Amren, but details over the class's end of year exams are hardly the relaxing getaway Feyre was hoping for. Luckily, a certain someone she met at the start of summer turns up with a surprising offer that could help take her mind off things.

Chapter 3

The smell of Room 701 was thick with paint. I could have died in that smell - the heavy acrylic that burned the insides of a person’s nose when it grew too pungent, like gasoline straight from the pump.

I found it soothing. I’d known it my entire life.

Mrs. Weaver could be a total Trelawney at times, but even when she was throwing pencils and banging her yardstick on the whiteboard to get our attention, I never felt better.

Goodness, how I missed this classroom.

Mrs. Weaver wasn’t in the room when I stopped in early on lunch to get ready for class, but Amren was. The sharply pointed ankle booties peaking out beneath one of the easels told me as much.

“Oh my gosh, Am - how the heck was Spain?!” I exclaimed, cringing to hear a little of the valley accent native to my region creep out of me in my enthusiasm. But who cares - Spain!

Amren didn’t move an inch. I sat down at the easel adjacent hers and started getting my brushes out regardless of the fact that I didn’t know what our first assignment would be. Amren hadn’t cared. She’d already painted a handful of dragons with mustaches in the corners of her canvas.

“Thrilling,” she said as though bored, but with Amren everything always sounded dull coming from her. To say Spain was thrilling meant it truly was. “Everything there is culture - the art, the museums, the-”

“The food??”

Amren finally set her brush down and deigned to look at me a touch indignant. I flicked my eyes up at her urging her to be honest. She sighed and said as though admitting a great shame, “I had tapas no less than three times a day in Granada.”

“That’s my girl!” Amren rolled her eyes, but I could see her lips flickering towards a smile.

“You sound like Morrigan.”

Ignoring the fact that I didn’t know who Morrigan was or why I sounded like her, I barreled on, “You look good. You’re nice and tan and your hair isn’t as pointy as it used to be.” I took the tip of one of my brushes - a clean one - and flicked the underside of Amren’s intensely blunt bob. The jet-black hue only made it that much more menacing on her already angular face. “I’d say a summer in Spain did you good.”

“Indeed,” she drawled, adding a handlebar mustache to one particularly orange and scaley dragon. “And how did you piddle away your summer? Please do not tell me you spent it all with that horrible boyfriend of yours?”

“Tamlin is not horrible!” She merely grunted. “Well he’s not. Compared to the rest of my family, he’s a saint.”

“The fact that you have to compare is indication enough, no?”

I didn’t reply and just as Amren turned to consider me in my silence - she was the one person I was generally chatty around - Mrs. Weaver buzzed into the room dripping in her crocheted shawls and vibrant costume jewelry.

“Feyre! Amren!” She clapped her hands together and they trembled tightly in front of her. “I am so glad to have you girls back again this season! Amren, I told you AP Studio Art would be a good idea.”

Mrs. Weaver always referred to school years as seasons. It felt like a more apt expression of the shifting times in our lives - like art come alive, she told us. Under her breath, Amren muttered, “Season hasn’t started yet, but anyway…”

I shook my head amused and prepared my station as the rest of our class filtered into the room at the sound of the bell - all five of them. Mrs. Weaver stood in front of us clutching her yard stick, a sort of security blanket for her, trembling with excitement. In my head, I waited with baited breath every time she did this for her to shout, “Look into the beyond! Use your inner eye to see the future!” Sadly, she never did.

“This season is going to be a vastly critical time in your lives,” she began after welcoming us all together. “The AP board, as you well know, has kept the same standard for examination in May, but the subject matter they’ve chosen for your projects is going to be challenging - self portraiture.”

Collectively, the entire room groaned.

“Can’t we just paint the canvases black and be done with it?” Amren asked. “That’s all they really expect from us anyway.”

Mrs. Weaver’s yardstick came flying down beside her with a snap on the air. “You most certainly will not! Unless of course, Amren dear, that is how you feel it best to express yourself.” She gave Amren a rather sharp look, but quickly regained her poppiness. “Between now and the exam deadline in May, you will have to complete no less than ten individual pieces under the theme of self-portrait for the commission board to review. Normally the exams are sat at the end of May, but given that you’ll be sending your art off for review, the work will be due at the start of the month, so I expect you all to be on task with this.”

She went around our little circle of easels and handed us the pages detailing the rules and limitations of our submissions. Another packet. At least this one was only two pages long and Mrs. Weaver had changed the font to a curling, friendly script.

In her opinion, all fonts that one did not have to guess about at least a few letters were offensive.

Ten pieces in slightly less than eight months was actually pretty tight. And self-portraiture? I was going to need a lesson from Van Gogh himself to figure out where to start on that one.

But the parameters weren’t horrible upon closer inspection - students may choose any medium with which to produce their pieces and submissions may be contained within any size or shape necessary as deemed by the student to represent their work.

I could work with that.

Amren apparently could too because her exam syllabus was already lying at her feet, a dusty pointed shoe print covering the top corner.

Mrs. Weaver set us to work on our easels for the remainder of the period with the simple task of putting down whatever first came to mind when we considered the word self as a way of getting us started preparing for our senior AP project. I knew Amren was bored when she started adding top hats to her dragons.

My canvas remained blank for a long time. Whenever I thought of the word self I thought of me, which I supposed made sense since the self was me in a weird meta sense my English teacher probably would have loved to hear more about. But who I was and what I saw in myself was a mystery.

I was an artist - yes, but artistry didn’t define me even if it fueled me. I was a daughter and a sister, but all of those bonds felt broken just then. I guessed I could have connected myself to Tamlin, but I was never one of those girls who defined herself off of whoever she was attached at the hip to.

All of this led me to avoid the idea that I was entirely blank inside, just as blank as the canvas staring at me. It was stark white - pure and untouched like the walls of my bedroom since I’d decluttered for the move.

The move that was happening tomorrow.

I swallowed. I wouldn’t do this here. Freak out. Art class was a safe space - a happy space.

The bell ringing snapped me awake.

“Feyre, you didn’t create anything,” Mrs. Weaver said a touch more than disappointed when she came round to my easel. I would have to come up with something eccentric to put her off.

“Sometimes nothing speaks more to a person than too much of something, Mrs. Weaver.”

Your inner eye has seen into the beyond!

Again, I was denied my vision.

“Well done, dear,” she said with a pat on my head before stopping at Amren’s easel. Amren sat back in her seat with a snarky look on her face, waiting to see what Mrs. Weaver would make of her dragons. Not much, it would turn out. “Well, you do enjoy your jewelry, Amren, but I expect an actual effort next time.”

Amren ran her hand along the many multi-colored bangles adorning her left arm, trinkets I supposed from her recent summer vacation.

I pulled my backpack together and stood to leave. “I don’t know how you do it, Am, but I envy your gusto.”

Amren snorted. “What happened over summer, Feyre?” she asked dead cold.

I tried not to break our walk out, shrugging casually. “Nothing really.”

“I don’t know how you do it, Feyre,” she mimed, “but I don’t envy your ability to lie. It sucks.”

I almost chuckled. “My mom left and that’s about it. Nothing interesting, like I said.”

Now, Amren did stop walking even as I pushed the door open. I paused when she didn’t catch up and felt a heavy weight I’d tried to ignore press in on my chest at the serious look she threw me. “What do you mean your mom left and that’s it? Aren’t you upset?”

Upset didn’t even begin to cover it - but again, I wasn’t going there.

“Not really. Oh and we’re moving. Guess I lied again. Can we go now? I’m starving!”

Amren caught up with me and swooped in so she was standing right in front of me, seeming a tall and fearsome pillar for one so short. “That’s why you didn’t write to me all summer. You usually email me constantly-”

“It’s not like you ever reply.”

“Besides the point! What happened?”

I shook my head looking up towards the ceiling - anywhere but the truth - and threw my hands up. “My parents had a fight, first night straight after school let out. Mom left. Dad drank. I went to a party. It was a merry summer and now my dad is moving us all tomorrow and I don’t have any choice in the matter.” My arms fluttered once more at my sides. “The end.”

“You always have a choice, Feyre.”

I whipped around and found - Rhysand? - Rhysand, that was his name, leaning coolly against the lockers outside our class and jumped back startled to see him there.

I’d almost forgotten about that night I’d met him at Lucien’s party. Our school was so large, it was hard to remember a one-night chance encounter, but the reality when I was being honest with myself was that I had secretly tried to forget the night. I had woken up the next morning feeling guilty for leaving Tamlin behind and then flirting with someone else, even if Rhysand was the one who had done 99% of the flirting.

Because really, he had. Flirting - and irritating. Mostly, he irritated.

“You learned my name,” was the first thing I could think to say to him and he gave me an infuriating smirk for noticing.

“Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?”

“Well you certainly are old.”

Rhys pushed off the lockers to stand next to Amren. “That’s why I’m senior class president. Only someone very old would have enough wisdom for the job. Thank goodness I’ve aged gracefully or it wouldn’t have mattered.”

“How very shallow of you, Mr. President,” I said, budging to inch past him so I could get to the parking lot faster.

“Ooh, bedroom names already. I like it.” He mimed straightening a tie on his shirt, which was crisp and buttoned enough that he could have been wearing one. This time, it was a deep magenta. “Would you prefer First Lady or Madame Secretary?”

I rolled my eyes and forced myself past him into the rush of leaving students with a muttered, “Please.”

“How about Senior Chair of Arts & Drama?”

“I take it you two know each other,” Amren said, sidling up next to me in step.

“No,” I said at the same time Rhysand sung out, “Yes.” I glowered at him and found him smirking like a cat at me. I also noticed he chose to walk next to me rather than on the side of Amren who I assumed he was here for since she was on SBC herself.

“The Senior Chair of Arts and I met at a party this summer,” Rhysand explained sounding as though he enjoyed this far too much.

“What are you prattling on about?” Amren snapped. “There is no Senior Chair of Arts & Drama.”

“There is now. You should have told me you were artistic,” Rhys said, turning his attention back to me. “I would have offered over the beer I stole from you at Lucien’s had I known.”

Amren stopped walking completely and pinched at his shoulder across me. “You were at Lucien’s this summer? What in the hell were you doing there?”

“Not important, Amren, love,” he replied though, picking an imaginary piece of lint off his shoulder. I noticed his tone was much less jovial. Amren glared at him. “We’ve been sorely lacking a figure for that department on Student Body Council for far too long. The job’s yours if you want it.”

It took me a few moments of silence to realize he was being completely serious. No flirtation. No weird humor. He was actually inviting me to join him on his cabinet.

“You’re crazy,” I said before those violet eyes had a chance to get me again. “What in the world am I going to do on Student Body Council?”

He took my lack of an outright no as encouragement. “Oh I can think of plenty of things you can do. I assume you’re handy with a paintbrush?”

“Ha-ha.”

“No really. My dear cousin will be ecstatic not to have posters for special events that suck anymore. We could use a good eye on activities programming. Does she have a good eye, tiny one?”

“Yes…” Amren dragged the word out dangerously, but Rhysand hardly noticed. I’d never seen Amren take this kind of mocking before with so little reaction - by her standards, anyway. There was a story there - one I didn’t know about and I thought I knew Amren pretty well.

“Well then you’re perfect,” Rhysand said pure and simple. “So what do you think, Madame Chair?”

We stepped outside and I spotted Tamlin across the quad waiting for me. I waved when he spotted me, but even at a distance, I could tell he didn’t look thrilled. His phone was out, the telltale sign of Newspaper meetings to come. My stomach churned.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” I said swiveling to a halt so I could cut off the conversation. “I have no desire to make my life any more busy than it already is. My senior art project alone is going to kill me.” And then as if Rhysand were no more important than a fly, I swapped my attention to Amren without another look in Rhysand’s direction. “Am, I’ll see you Monday.”

“But-” Rhysand cut himself off when he saw who I was walking towards. His face went stone cold and his hands were suddenly deep inside his pockets. He sounded okay, at least, when he called after me, “Alright, Madame Chair. But if you change your mind, the offer stands. It’s a long way til Winter Formal yet.”

I looked over my shoulder at him, my mind catching on the mention of our school’s annual mid-year dance. “Don’t hold your breathe. And don’t call me that!”

“What, Madame Chair? Even as I kept walking further and further away, Rhysand couldn’t seem to let the conversation wither and I had an even harder time not obliging him. “What am I supposed to call you then? Something tells me you won’t accept goddess divine.”

“Feyre works just fine, thanks!”

“Feyre,” he said, musing on my name like a sweet piece of candy he’d waited all day to press onto his tongue. “I can work with that.”

I’ll bet you can, I thought resisting the urge to wipe the sweat off my forward in relief, though there was a definite laugh ghosting in my throat.

“Were you just talking to Rhys…?”

“Hello to you too,” I said kissing Tamlin on the cheek and I sounded happier than I thought I would.

Rhys.

I chewed on the shorthand of his name, finding it interesting that Tamlin had used it.

“Not really. Come on, let’s get going already. I’m starving and a double-double sounds amazing right about now.”

Lucien stood a few feet behind Tamlin, his entire expression sour. “Actually…” Tamlin said and my chest fell mid-breath.

“Newspaper?”

“Newspaper.”

I nodded. “Well okay then, more fries for me, I guess.”

Lucien drew a rather sharp breath even for him and looked away so I could see his face, but he was definitely pissed off about something.

Tamlin looked pained as he wrapped his arms around me. “One more week, I swear and then it’s done.” Lucien made a derisive snort.

“I know, I know, I just miss you sometimes is all.” I leaned my chin against his chest and looked up at him enjoying how the dark green of his eyes played in the sunlight. “You’ll be there tomorrow, right?”

“As long as everything goes smoothly at the meeting tonight-”

“No,” I said hotly pulling back a space. “You promised you’d help me move. Please don’t ditch me for this. You’re at Newspaper all the time and this move,” I lowered my voice so I wouldn’t have to suffer Lucien overhearing, “Tamlin, I can’t do this alone.”

He kissed my forehead and I found myself leaning into him a little more. “I’ll be there. Promise.”

“Thank you,” I said in a deep exhale onto his chest. “It means a lot to me that you’d give up a day of something I know is really important to you.”

Lucien snorted - again, and I felt Tamlin’s body stiffen around me. He let go of our embrace and readjusted the straps of his backpack. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said with a bright smile, wide like a cloudless sky in the spring.

“You’re an idiot,” Lucien said after Tamlin had walked away. “I hope you know that.”

Not this again.

I moved closer to my little terror of a friend and crossed my arms with a deep sigh. “What in the hell is the matter between you two?”

“You should ask him that.”

“Or I could just ask you since you’re the one making snippy comments and scrunching your face up like someone just spit on you every time Tamlin so much as breaths.”

Lucien stared pointedly at the ground, his own arms crossed over his chest.

“Come on, Lucien,” I relented. “I’m not just his girlfriend. I’d like to think that after a year of hanging out with you by association that we can talk every now and then.”

The look Lucien gave me was pained - incredibly so. There was tension in the way the delicate muscles of his face held themselves, so tightly stitched together that the elegance was gone in favor of a secret, silent war I wasn’t privy to.

“There’s nothing the matter with me,” he said finally. “I’m perfectly amiable as always. Tam’s the one trotting around with his nose in the wrong book while the teacher watches.”

I had no idea what he meant.

“Give him time, Feyre.” His body broke hold on the strain keeping it in place. He sounded, well, defeated. “He’ll come around.”

By the time Lucien left me in the quad to go home, apparently deciding the solitude was worth avoiding the sufferings of an early dinner with me, the school had emptied and my car was one of the last ones in the student parking lot.

No Tamlin. No Lucien.

No one.

I vaguely wondered where Amren and Rhysand had gone off to and had a strange desire to find out.

Me - on Student Body Council. What a joke.

Flipping the engine on, I gripped the steering wheel focusing on the way my finger tips went numb the harder I squeezed. When I could barely feel them anymore, I peeled out of the lot and drove home alone.

AN: AP stands for Advanced Placement. AP classes are essentially college prep level classes that require a huge exam at the end of the year graded on a scale 1-5 and if you pass with a high enough score, some colleges will give you college credit for them. I never took AP Studio Art, so my knowledge of this exam was changed to fit this fic. Also, In n Out is a California fast food chain that most of us on the west coast hail as THE burger place to eat. The double double Feyre references is two patties and two slices of cheese on the burger as opposed to one like normal.

#beneath the stars #bts: a feysand fic #bts #myfic #feysand #feyre #rhysand #moriel #nessian

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