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unmaskedagain · 5 years

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Daddy’s Little Villain

So this prompt I think I got months ago. I meant to work on it for quite some time but I never got around to it. I got inspired yesterday so I decided to take a shot. I went completely off memory for this. Its been a while since I watched Young Justice or any of the DC animated shows; apart from the new Harley Quinn one. So sorry about what I got wrong.

A clown with a killer punchline.

A lantern of terror.

The king of Metropolis.

The master of shadows.

A destroyer of worlds.

Different faces, powers, histories but all categorized under one name.

Supervillain.

Ruthless, intelligent, powerful, charismatic, tempting; villains reflect just how easily and quickly this planet, if not the universe could fall under their might. However, none of them started out evil. None of them were born evil. No one is born to be evil.

Marinette, however, came very, very close.

Her biological father was one of the first that came to mind when anyone thought of a Supervillian. He personally had killed thousands, and arranged the deaths of tens of thousands more. He conquered kingdoms, destroyed dynasties, annihilated empires, controlled governments, and used presidents, kings, any old politician as puppets on strings.

And he was a good dad.

He made sure Marinette had the best of everything. The best tutors, the best trainers, the best bodyguards (though Marinette had only ever seen them out of the corner of her eye; hiding in the shadows).

He was even okay with Tom Dupain being a father figure to his daughter. Tom had married Sabine when Marinette was four. However, the acceptance of this came after several failed assassination attempts after the first time Marinette called Tom Papa. Sabine hadn’t been happy that to have protect her new husband from assassins sent by her jealous baby daddy.

Marinette spend most of her days pretending to be a normal girl. The rest of the time she was being trained by near unstoppable assassins in every manner of fighting style her body could handle, learning how to speak various different languages ranging from Spanish to whatever the hell Atlantians’ spoke, hacking and computer skills from former spies, and being taught strategy from some of the greatest military minds that could be bought. (And this was one top of her duties as Ladybug because her dad was still a bit of an asshole.)

He just wanted what was best for her. And he made sure Marinette knew she was loved. He sent her presents every week, letters every day, and she woke to fresh roses in her room every morning.

The presents ranged from diamond tiaras to ancient samurai swords; anything she so much as mildly expressed an interest in was always found at the foot of her bed the next day. The letters were always thoughtful and kind; always wanting to know about her day, and how she was doing. They would appear in her desk sometime during the day. Marinette would leave a reply via email because she was a sane person of the year 2020. She’d wake to red roses every morning to remind her she was special to him. Sometimes she handed them out at school. Other times she gave them away to any pedestrian who looked like they needed a pick me up.

He was a good dad, even if he was never actually around. They talked on the phone and over video chat as much as they could.

He was busy. She understood that.

Trying to take over the world wasn’t easy. It certainly wasn’t the average 9 to 5 job. The Light needed him.

She forgave him for that; just like she forgave him for all the things he did to… ensure the future he envisioned became a reality. They were distasteful, immoral, and most of the time she didn’t have the stomach to listen to 1/12 of all the things he did or orchestrated.

Marinette was always fine with staying out of it. Unlike most Supervillian kids, she never had any interest in taking her place in the family business. Or doing the opposite and doing everything she could to take their villainous family down. No, she had better things to do.

And her father was just fine with that. He could forgive Marinette for wanting a normal life. He just wanted her happy, safe, and well cared for. He kept the Light and Cadmus out of Paris as best as he could.

He could even forgive his little girl when she adorned a mask and became the Hero Ladybug. Though it did prevent him from recruiting Hawkmoth into the fold; he wouldn’t have been more than cannon fodder but still. As long as Ladybug kept out battle between good and evil that encased the rest of the world, the city of Paris, France could be hers. Hell, he would even give it to his baby girl as a birthday present should her desire for it arise. It would be good preparation should he need someone trustworthy and loyal to rule the rest of Europe.

Still he was quick to stop any admiration for the heroes of Justice League. Or at least make sure his daughter didn’t put them on a pedestal like the rest of the world did.

“But they’re the good guys,” She remembered her seven-year-old self protesting. At the time Marinette hadn’t really understood that her father was considered one of the ‘Bad Guys.’ “The heroes.”

“I believe the Justice League’s actions leaves humanity weak,” He told her. “However, even if I didn’t find fault in them, they are only people. They make mistakes. There is good and evil in them; few realize just how easily one side could win over the other.”

Marinette frowned, “You mean go bad. They won’t go bad. They fight for justice and what’s right.”

“What’s right is subjective,” He warned her. “And justice is in the eye of the beholder.”

“But-but they’re superheroes!”

“You know what’s more dangerous that a villain?” He asked her. “Someone who refuses to acknowledge that anyone can become one.”

He would say more on the subject later until he was sure Marinette understood.

He loved his daughter with all of his heart. And Marinette returned the favor.

So when rumors spread, not long after Hawkmoth’s permanent defeat, that the Light’s founder had fallen; was dead, killed in action, murdered by superheroes, Marinette’s heart broke. She always knew the risks of her father’s job, the dangers this world had in it; it was survival of the fittest after all, that was what he taught her.

Nevertheless, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt; that it didn’t burn. And for the first time, the darkest part of her, the part of her that was all her father’s daughter, wanted to make the world feel her pain. However, Marinette was better than that. She wouldn’t blame the world for her sorrows. She refuse to set fire to everyone and everything just because she wanted to vengeance.

No, she was smarter than that. Her father, had he still lived, would expect better from her.

Marinette blamed the Justice League; wonder woman, superman, the Green Lantern. She blamed. Artemis. She blamed Aqualad. She blamed Miss Martian. She blamed Superboy. She blamed Kid flash. She blamed all of Young Justice who set up the plan to bring down the light. (Apart from Batman and Robin who been in Gotham because Robin had all but on his death bed after a fight with DeathStroke.). And they would burn for taking her father from her.

…The only problem was that Marinette wasn’t a killer. She didn’t want to be one unless she had no other choice. So she had to think of another way to get her revenge.

The plan had started out very simple. Slowly the hero Ladybug would start being seen outside Paris; fighting random villains’ here and there; captain cold one day, the cheetah next. Never seen in the same place twice. Rumors spread that she was looking for someone; her partner, Chat Noir. It helped that Chat Noir had been seen in months.

It was just a rumor, of course. Chat Noir had been officially retired. All kwami were taken back. Marinette wasn’t using Tikki to power herself up. No, she refused to use them like Hawkmoth had done. Instead, they were put away and were very well cared for; like well pampered, spoiled pets.

Marinette used her money to buy a replica of her Ladybug suit; better armored though. She used her private plane to travel around wherever she needed to go. The more villains she fought, the more the rumor of the heartbroken Ladybug hunting down the Light to find her partner grew.

The only downside was that Ladybug was rapidly gaining enemies left and right. It wasn’t long before The Light sent people after her. Ladybug was quick to send their minions back to them all but in a body bag.

She had been approached multiple times be members of the Justice League; even teamed up with them multiple times to save the day. They never even feel the near microscopic camera she puts in them. It degrades three hours after but it’s plenty of time for Marinette to get the information she needs.

It took two months for Marinette to learn the identities of nearly every member of the Justice League. She’s quick to destroy any secret identity evidence for anyone who didn’t wrong her. The batfamily was spared. The Green Arrow and his family was spared. (One day soon Oliver Queen would thank his lucky stars that Speedy went solo instead of joining Young Justice. And that Cheshire, who had a thing for the redhead, was an old friend of Marinette’s, whether the older girl remember the bluenette or not.)

The family of Steal would burn though. As would fastest family alive. The king of ocean and his sidekicks. The “human” identities of the worlds’ favorite Martians. Woman Wonder and her sidekick. The Green Lanterns.

The Justice League never saw her coming. All they saw was a pretty fourteen-year-old girl with tears in her big blue eyes as she swore it was her duty to right this wrong. She would fight the light on her own. A young hero, they thought, who did realize just how over her head she really was. Pity was always clear in their eyes. Every time Marinette refused their offer of help, said she could handle it herself.

Marinette was just biding her time. She still needed the identities of Young Justice. When she got that, she would strike. Hard.

It only took three months, and Cadmus capturing little Miss Martian.

By the time, Young Justice arrived Ladybug had already been on the scene. Marinette had already freed an injured Miss Martian and they were trying to fight their way out. The bluenette was beaten, battered, and bleeding. The two girls did their best to fight the bad guys that seemed to come in a never ending storm. It wasn’t long before they were surrounded.

“Go,” She whispered to the green girl. Marinette had always placed the cameras. She didn’t need to alien any longer. “You can fly. Go. I’ll hold them off, okay.”

“I won’t leave you,” Miss Martian shook her adamantly.

Marinette frown, “You have to. You know what Cadmus. You know what these monster will do to you. You have go before it’s too late.”

“I will not!”

“Don’t be a hero!” Ladybug snapped.

“Why?!” A new voice called. Robin landed in front of them. The rest of the Young Justice was “It’s our job.”

The fight was epic. And Marinette could admit that the members of Young Justice were skilled. But they had to be to take down her father, so it wasn’t surprising. Still, she managed to put a camera on each and every one of them.

When it was over, and it was clear more of Cadmus’ henchman were arriving, Young Justice made moves to flee…

Until they realized Ladybug had no intention of coming with them.

“He’s not in there,” Miss Martian told her gently.

“You don’t know that,” Ladybug murmured.

“I do,” Again the pity was clear in redhead’s eyes.

Ladybug shook her head. “You don’t understand. I can’t give up. I won’t!”

Robin put a hand on her shoulder, “Chat Noir isn’t in there.”

“Getting yourself killed will not help him,” Aqualad stated.

Ladybug nodded, gave them a small smile, and then made a break for the Cadmus lab. Then Marinette felt a sharp pain in the back of her head, and everything went black.

She woke up in the infirmary of what she guess was the Young Justice headquarters. With a huff, she got up and marched out of the room. It didn’t take her long to find the teen heroes lounging in their living room. “You guys are jerks!” She yelled at them.

Kid Flash snorted, “We saved you from yourself.”

“Oh you self-righteous little-” Marinette groaned. “I can’t believe you! I can take care of myself” She crossed her arms and stomped her foot.

“Oh yeah because that proves it,” Artemis laughed.

“I’m a hero too, you know?”

Robin nodded. “Everyone knows about Ladybug. But you’re like thirteen.”

“Fourteen! And a half!” Marinette corrected. “Which is basically fifteen.”

The older heroes just looked at her, and then burst out laughing.

Marinette forced herself to think of her most embarrassing memory so that her face would heat up and it would look like she turned red from embarrassment. As if she care what they thought.

The bluenette grabbed a slice of pizza and asked politely for someone to send her back to Paris. She needed to regroup, she claimed.

They tried to convince her to stay. Or let Young Justice or the Justice League help her but she refused. Marinette was back in Paris ten minutes later.

She had the identities of every member of Young Justice an hour after that.

It was time.

Ladybug “tracking” down the Light had been an experience. Technically, she knew enough to figure out various locations they used. However, she also knew enough to know that Ladybug just showing up there would get her killed. It was a move of an amateur hero. And Marinette was done thinking like a hero.

So she put down her mask, ditched her Ladybug gear, and got on a plane. Marinette arrived in Metropolis on a windy Tuesday morning.

It took her until Friday to hack into Lex Luther’s secretary’s calendar to figure where the King of the Metropolis was scheduled to be and another week to decipher the Light’s next meeting. Hacking into pentagon was easier.

Marinette waited watched from the shadows of the remote island she found herself on. She watched as villain after villain arrived. Until Lex Luther, surrounded by bodyguards and personal assistants, arrived in his private jet.

“Mr. Luther!” Marinette called as she stepped out of the shadows where she was hiding.

Guns were immediately pulled on her. The secretary, Mercy, hand suddenly became weaponized. The surprise on their faces were clear. Particularly when they saw the small teen girl standing there.

Marinette smiled.

“And you are?” Lex asked, only mildly intrigued. He wondered just who the child was that managed to be sneak up his men and possible the rest of the Light.

“My name is Marinette,” She answered. “But you and the Light know me as Ladybug. I mean you no harm.”

Lex narrowed his eyes at her. He could see the resemblance. Ladybug and Marinette had the same stature, the same eye color, and looked to be the same age. Still, it could be a trick.

“Two months ago, I broke into one of your building.” Marinette said. “The break in was the news but LexCorp assured that nothing was taken. That wasn’t true. I took the Cuban cigars out of the safe behind the Rembrandt painting. Please. I merely wish to speak with the Light. Somewhere… not even gods among us can hear.”

Well, that assured the villain that it wasn’t a trick. However, for the first time in his life, Lex Luther found himself confused. On one day, Ladybug had been a slowly become a thorn in the Light’s side. On the other hand, the hero had just revealed her identity and now just wanted to talk. About what, Lex yearned to know.

Lex nodded, “Mercy will check you for weapons. Then you will be escorted inside safely. Whether you leave alive will be up for debate.”

Marinette sighed in relief and raised her hands. Mercy, who the bluenette tried to figure out whether she was a robot or a cyborg, was very thorough. She even scanned Marinette’s phone for any traces of explosives.

When it was done Marinette found herself escorted inside, and then found herself a cliché Supervillian lair staring down the greatest supervillains in the world. Ra's al Ghul, Black Manta, Queen Bee, Klarion, Deathstroke, Ocean Master, and their operatives Hugo Strange, Bane, Sports Master, and Cheshire all sat at a large round table. There was four pieces of glass hanging from the ceiling in front of them; monitors, Marinette figured.

And it was clear from the anger on the faces that the bad guys had been informed of exactly who Marinette was.

It was daunting, to say the least.

“You have our attention, Miss Marinette,” Lex said. “Do not waste it.”

Marinette nodded, “I have information on the Justice League I thought the Light would be very interested in.”

“Why would a hero do such a thing?” Ra's al Ghul asked. “Hoping to make a deal? Your information for the return of Chat Noir, perhaps?”

The leader of the League of Shadows didn’t know why the rumor persevered that the Light kidnapped the Parisian hero. He had confirmed himself that it was highly inaccurate.

The bluenette giggled, “Chat Noir no longer exists. He was retired at the same time as Hawkmoth. The Light has never had him. Neither did Cadmus. It was just heavily implied.”

“Yet that didn’t stop you from destroying our labs,” Lex glared. “Ruining missions, capturing my associates. Months of research. Millions of dollars. Gone to hell.”

“You were a tool,” Marinette shrugged. “I used to you get to close to the Justice League. It was never personal.”

Lex felt eye twitch. He should have Mercy shoot her on principle.

“You’re more annoying than Robin,” Deathstroke shook his head at the moxy of the girl.

“It was just business?” She offered. “I needed a way to make them pay.”

“Just… just business,” Lex pinched his nose. He was going to kill her. “What could you possible offer the Light that would stop us from destroying you and everyone you love?”

Marinette smirked. She pulled out her phone and hacked into the monitors. Once she was done, and played a video. The villains watched on the screens with old mild interest on their faces. Slowly the interest faded as shock and astonished looks overtook it.

Lex’s felt his entire body shake. The video had shown undeniable proof that Superman was secretly Clark Kent. It was what he dreams were made of. He could barely stop himself from snatching the phone out of Marinette’s hand and playing it the video over and over again.

Lex forced himself to calm down. He looked at the bluenette hard. A part of him wanted offer to pay as much money as the girl could want for the video. Another part of him realized if Marinette had been a little older he would’ve proposed.

“Superman’s civilian name is Clark Kent.” Marinette smiled, “I have video proof of nearly every member of the Justice League’s secret identities; along with their sidekicks.”

The statement was met with silence. Each villain contemplating the ramifications of what such information could mean; not just for them, but for the world.”

“I think that’s worth a little forgiveness,” Marinette slyly added. “What’s few million dollars in damages compared to bringing down the Justice League once and for all.”

Klarion chuckled, “I suppose some things can be overlooked.”

“Why?” Black Manta asked. “That is what we should be asking. Why betray the heroes?”

“Justice,” Marinette shrugged. “Revenge. I blame them for the death of my father.”

“That’s a good a reason as any,” Cheshire said. Her mask still hid her face.

Sportsmaster gave his daughter a side look, “You never tried to take down any heroes any of the times you thought I died,” He complained.

“Sorry,” Cheshire shrugged. “I was too busy eating ice cream and getting drunk off my ass; it’s how I usually celebrate.”

“Why come to us?” Ra's al Ghul asked still intrigued.

“Why wouldn’t she?” A new voice rang through the room. Marinette stumbled back in shock. She knew that voice. But that wasn’t possible. Right? “The Light is in her blood.”

Door opened and in walked bane of nearly every hero in the world, the Founder of the light, Vandal Savage. “You’ve done well, daughter.”

Her father looked exactly the same as she remember. He was tall, with broad shoulder and square jaw; three pale scars across his face. His hair was longer though, much longer, and was pulled back

Marinette rushed over to him and threw herself into his arms. He hugged her tightly.

“I thought you were dead,” Marinette whispered. Tears stung her eyes. “Everyone said you were dead.”

Vandal smiled gently at her, “And you decided to bring down the world’s heroes in my name. I’m truly touched,” He said. “I wasn’t dead but I was close. I got better.”

The bluenette backed away from her father; realization slowly hit her.

“It’s been months,” Marinette ran a hand through her hair. “You have any idea what I’ve gone through, what I did! You suck! Ugh, I’m telling Mom!”

Sabine Cheng would show Vandal Savage a thing or two once she found out. She was the one who had to dry her daughter’s tears day after day once the news of Savage’s death broke. The Asian woman was possibly only one infamous Vandal Savage was afraid of.

The others villains watched, entranced by the argument between father and daughter.

“You gallivanted around as hero,” Vandal reminded. “To get close the Justice League; leaving me to wonder if in my absence I had lost my daughter to the so-called forces of good. It turned out all my worrying was for naught.”

“You could’ve called!” Marinette complained. “Wrote. Something to tell me you were alive. Anything.”

“At the time it was best decision.”

Marinette glared, “You seriously for even one second I’d team up with the Justice League? Really? Me?” She glared. “I’m NEVER talking to you again!”

“I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart,” Vandal assured the bluenette. “We can kill Superman together.”

“Actually,” Lex interrupted. “I have dips.”

Vandal shot him a quick glare.

The teen girl crossed her arms, “Give me one reason I shouldn’t destroy everything I have on the Justice League?” She asked. “And before any of you threatened to kill me. I only brought the Superman video as insurance. I die; you will never get your hands of the rest of them. So again,” She hissed at her father. “Give me one reason I should hand over my Intel to the Light?”

“…Father’s day’s coming up?” Vandal offered.

“Dammit!”

Marinette stumped over to an empty seat, next to Cheshire, and glared petulantly at the inhabitants of the room. She didn’t care that it made her look like a little kid.

An awkward silence filled the room.

Luther took the opportunity to finally start the meeting as it was the reason they were all there. It was long. It dragged on. Even with Marinette’s intelligence on the Justice League. Everything felt like a stuffy board meeting. Nowhere near as exciting as Marinette once imagined it would be.

The meeting took a short break. Food was brought out. A small buffet. Marinette made herself a plate; she grabbed a fancy steak sandwich, some fruit and chips, and a rather large chocolate cupcake because she freaking deserved it. She thought she was done until her plate was grabbed by her father. He didn’t hesitate to put baked Brussel sprouts provided on her plate.

“Oh come on! No one likes Brussel sprouts,” Marinette complained. “Not even you’re that evil.”

“They’re good for you,” Vandal told his daughter. “And you will eat them.”

“You’re seeing this too, right?” Deathstroke, otherwise known as Slade, asked Bane. “It’s not just me.”

As they ate, the villains shared stories about what they’d been up to. Most just complained about the problems they were having with the Justice League; who fought who, who should they consider for Light membership, and anyone getting on their nerves.

“Some assholes decided to send the wannabe Villain current status moron after me,” Marinette cast a dark look around the room; making it clear she knew they sent the assassin. She didn’t get as much as a single sheepish look. “He kept trying to light me of fire. And then he was accidently pushed off the top of a building, twice.”

Ra's al Ghul nodded at the young girl, “I would like to mention that I have an heir not much younger than you. You would get along quite well, I believe.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes at Leader of the League of shadows, “Are you seriously trying to get me to date your grandson right now?”

Al Ghul didn’t answer her.

Marinette took the opportunity to excuse herself from having to come back, “I’m going to explore the island.” And then see if she could escape before her dad caught her.

“I always blew up your boat,” Vandal raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be taking you home myself.”

“You suck!”

“Love you too, sweetpea.”

Marinette marched out of the room. She’d swim if she had too.

It turned out she didn’t have to swim. Just hotwire Deathstroke’s ride.

She got a video call fifteen minutes after taking off.

“Go for Marinette?” She answered cheerfully.

Vandal Savage’s face appear on the screen, “You stole Slade’s helicopter.”

“Juuussst like you taught me.” Marinette smirked.

#ml fic #marinette dupain cheng #Young Justice #Marinette deserves better #justice league

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catboycafe · 4 years

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I Will Now Express Every Thought I Have About Pacific Rim: The Black

⚠️ spoilers for the whole thing baby

I actually forgot Pacific Rim: The Black was premiering today until I saw it in an article this morning! When I first heard about it months ago, I was decidedly not sold on a Pacific Rim anime. Uprising burnt me the fuck out and I don’t have a lot of trust left in me for new entries to the franchise. But I had heard rumblings of Raleigh and Herc being referenced after going into #pacificrim and I decided I may as well check out to see what was up! I binged it in 4 hours and it sure was a whirlwind, I’ll tell ya

The Plot

I really enjoy the setting and initial concept! We’re so use to seeing Kaiju/Jaegar shenanigans play out within these major cities with helpless civilians everywhere that spending so much time in a lonesome desert and these destroyed civilizations was really cool and indicative of the changes Pacific Rim has undergone in the last few years. I also looooved the Desert Settlement from the beginning!! It seemed really homey and picturesque; I wish we’d spent more time with the other survivors and got to see more of their day to day aside from farming and sitting.

I also found the first episode set up to be really tight and well written! I was hooked during the initial flashback, Hayley and Taylor’s fight was really poignant and well acted, and the reveal of Atlas Destroyer felt really huge and epic!!

But once we left the Desert Settlement and the plot started actually moving along, the pacing becomes suuuper rough. We spent way too long in Bogan with Shane and Mei; there’s only 7 episodes and we spent, like, 3? 4? within the confines of that camp and I felt it weighed the plot down. Boy is introduced in the 2nd episode and, because the narrative spends so much time on Shane’s evil machinations and Mei’s back story, we still don’t know anything concrete about his origins or purpose 3 episodes later! That felt frustrating to me

The story beats overall were very predictable. I was able to pick up on Mei’s backstory via her dynamic with Shane in their introductions, so her memories felt too built up and too hollow once they were revealed. The same with the reveal of Boy’s Kaiju form; he was in a big green test tube in a PPDC base - I assumed immediately he was a part-kaiju experiment and again his reveal felt hollow, especially after the glacial pace of it’s development.

Even when events weren’t predictable, they lacked weight. The appearance of several Kaiju Breaches in “Boneyard” felt very cheap for some reason; I wasn’t scared and I didn’t feel tense about these odds mounting against the protagonists. This was just happening and I was just watching.

The Art Direction and Animation

I’m very obsessed with all the new Kaiju we got from this; I love how Copperhead is rendered, they’re a joy to see on screen!! The Rippers are also very cute and deserve little plushies...i love these neat little dogs. Boy’s Kaiju Form is very intimidating with an interesting color palette and I loved seeing him next to Copperhead’s highly saturated design!

That’s unfortunately all that I liked however; All the human character design is unmemorable to me. Every character looks exactly like another easily identifiable anime character from a different property (Hayley looks exactly like Zero Suit Samus to me, for example. And Mei kept reminding me of both Bernadetta Fire Emblem and Motoko Kusanagi from GitS. The list goes on).

I can sort of understand why they’re so bland? A franchise going from Live Action to something as heavily stylized as anime is probably a really difficult transition and these designs are probably meant to be more lowkey than more unique anime designs in order to help that transition. But realistically stylized designs can still be recognizable and unique! These feel uninspired and bare bones.

I have no problem with the switch to CGI animation that modern anime is doing because I know it’s a lot cheaper to produce and it can still be really unique and striking! But The Black’s model animation felt very stilted and inconsistent. I don’t have a lot of knowledge about animating so I don’t think I can accurately describe what I disliked? Wooden is probably the best term. Character movements felt wooden and things like hair and clothes felt plastic.

Impacts also had very little weight. The fight between Tayler/Mei and Copperhead reminded me of when you’re in a dream and trying to punch something, but you can’t punch hard. It was simply too floaty and too soft. The final showdown in “Showdown” was better, but not by much. It was very immersion breaking seeing these Giant Robots and Giant Monsters unable to throw a real solid hit!

Characters

My favorite character was unequivocally Joel Wyrick. We love Joel Wyrick in this house! Joel’s character has real charisma and charm. I love his flirtations with Loa, how his cocky disposition is juxtaposed with his drinking problem and later insecurities over his lost memories, and his genuine kindness shown to Mei, Taylor, and Boy. No one ever plays with Boy, they just run after him and drag him around...but Joel has this moment in “Escape from Bogan” where he kneels down to Boy and helps him collect rocks. It was sweet!

So of course, when Joel dies for absolutely no reason 5 minutes later - pissed! I was pissed! I yelled “COME ON” aloud in my studio apartment! I was genuinely so excited to see him interact more with the rest of cast then, poof. No More Joel.

His death felt like it was for shock value to me rather than actual narrative development. Why kill him when we still don’t fully understand his and Mei’s relationship? Why were they so close? Were they childhood friends, or just coworkers that happen to become friends? Why did he specifically know all the details of Shane’s abuse towards Mei before she did?

What did his death accomplish? It made Mei sad...ok? She was already...very sad. Her running away from Shane already had consequences - the consequences of Shane coming after them for revenge in the future. Why did Joel have to become a causality?

His death is ultimately tied to Mei’s character arc which is, unfortunately, my least favorite :c I find Mei to be a really one dimensional character with a personality, backstory, outlook, and motivation that I’ve seen done a million times before with a million other characters. She feels very out of place in the franchise as a whole - Pacific Rim is, at it’s core, a story about connecting with others. Her self-centric arc and lack of desire to connect outside of drifting really alienates her from the story at large and it frustrates me how long The Black’s narrative spends on her.

Hayley and Taylor were otherwise very interesting in the pilot episode, but become similarly one dimensional at the story chugs on. Taylor’s unflinching (bordering on unhealthy) faith in their parents was really interesting next to Hayley’s complete acceptance of their parents’ death. But once the two of them make up their differences, they lack an interesting dynamic and become very passive protagonists.

Taylor especially has no personality - how would you describe Taylor? He’s...brave. He’s the older brother. He’s a leader? He’s nice? There is nothing noteworthy about him at all, which is sad considering I think he has the potential to be a really interesting way to explore the original movie’s influence on The Black’s story.

Hayley’s grief and self-blame are more interesting than Taylor’s...nothingness, but she still falls into this one-note trope of being the naive, excitable little sister. I guess I feel abnormally frustrated about this flat character writing because Pacific Rim’s incredibly unique cast has always been an inspiration to me! It feels sad that this new iteration into the series is full of what feel like stock characters.

Then we get to Boy. How come Boy can’t have a person name? It’s specifically written in a dialogue between Taylor and Hayley: “I’m not going to call him Chad or Barnaby or one of those names for a baby brother you wanted as a kid,”

Why?

He’s by all accounts a human child when they find him. Yes, he was found in a big green test tube - but he walks and acts just like a human child. The only difference, seemingly, is that he is non-verbal and engages in strange/annoying behavior (running off, eating bugs, etc). So he isn’t deserving of a name?? I don’t know why that makes me so mad, it just does. it’s like they refuse to treat him as a human even before they find out he’s a Kaiju - it’s super weird! How can the story sell me on the three of them becoming found family (like they’re seemingly trying to do) if the protagonists won’t even treat this kid like a kid??

Misc. Thoughts

The callbacks to Stacker, Herc, and Raleigh were cool! I also like that Herc is a major plot point! We love Herc Hanson and it’s what he deserves. I also find Loa’s connection to Horizon Bravo very interesting...and the fact we’re getting Kaiju cultist lore! Love that! Love that!

Fucked up that the only two dark skinned characters were: 1) removed from the story 10 minutes in with no call back yet, 2) Killed after having 1 line of dialogue and fridged for the character development of the blonde white girl. I really need to know what the deal with those 4 characters leaving in the beginning was about - I absolutely thought we’d see them again by now, but no dice

I don’t know how to feel about Ajax and have no clue what their purpose in the story is. They’re cool, but whats the point?

If Mei and Taylor are paired up together romantically, I’m putting Craig Kyle and Greg Johnson in the time out box. Very tired of seeing random hetero romance B plots in stories that can’t even get their A plots together

Overall, it’s kind of subpar! It has the foundations of a really interesting story, but the pacing and characters really took me out of it. I’m interested in Season 2! I know season 2 is already ordered and I’d love to see how things continue to develop, see if the character writing gets any better - but I’m not too hopeful unfortunately. I really really love Pacific Rim after all these years and I’m happy to still be getting content and world building! There’s just sooo much I would change about this however. At least fanfiction’s free!

Thanks for reading all this, I have ADHD and just go on and on if u let me. hmu if You Too have thoughts about Pacific Rim: The Black and have no one to talk abt them with

#pacific rim #pacific rim: the black #pacific rim the black #taylor travis #hayley travis #long post #sorry this is thousands of words. i contain multitudes

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libermachinae · 4 years

Text

Lost Light/Rodimus

Notes: No, I don’t mean the crew. Unedited bc I’ve already spent way more time on this crack fic than I meant to. Rated G, no warnings apply, 2K.

---

It wasn’t Brainstorm’s fault, entirely.

“How the hell did you make a metrotitan spark?”

Just mostly.

“Well, it’s actually an extremely complicated, delicate, precise procedure,” Brainstorm said as they ran for their lives through shifting, narrowing corridors, Rodimus’ engine gunning to keep up with the jet. “It’s something other scientists have been trying to crack since before the war started, but between the exact measurements of the photonic supercrystal and the pattern of coding charges, no one else ever managed to—”

“Okay, forget how!” Rodimus shouted. “I don’t care about how! Or why! Or even at what point you decided to make a massive t-cog to go with it—”

“Actually, Perceptor cracked that one.”

“—or how you got it past Riptide and the rest of security! I don’t care!” A wall appeared front of them; Rodimus swerved around it while Brainstorm pulled into a neat roll. A wingtip brushed Rodimus’ roof. “Assuming we survive this any other way than First Aid scraping our pancaked frames off a random corridor wall, you’re going to tell the whole story to Megatron, and he can use all the practice he’s had with me to tell you exactly how terrible an idea this was.”

“Pancaked?”

“Earth term. Watch out!”

The hallway to the shuttle bay disappeared behind two shifting plates, and Rodimus had just enough time to brake and avoid being crushed. Brainstorm pulled up and transformed, landing at Rodimus’ side.

“Oh, this isn’t good,” he said.

“No kidding?” Rodimus angled his mirrors to look around, but every glance just revealed fewer directions to escape to. “We’re trapped.”

“Not that,” Brainstorm said. “We’re in the abdomen.”

“Belly of the ship, sure.”

“In root mode, the Lost Light’s power core is situated in the lower decks, under multiple layers of plating and insulation to keep the heat from frying everyone around it.” Brainstorm traced a small circle on the plating just underneath his cockpit, then drew it up, toward his chest. “When Perceptor was designing the transformation sequence, though, we couldn’t quite work out how to transport the core with all its extra plating. So, we just, hm, put a pin in it.”

Rodimus stared.

“So, what you’re saying is—”

Brainstorm pointed to the ceiling.

“The power core is one level above us right now. As soon as the transformation sequence is completed, it’s going to come online. The Lost Light’s designed to handle that kind of output, but not standard Cybertronians.”

“So, right now, this moment, we’re standing in the smelter, waiting for it to come on.”

“More like in front of the smelter after the blast doors have malfunctioned, but yeah.”

“Okay!” Rodimus revved his engine. “Well, that’s no good! We’re getting out of here.” He glanced around again. The walls were thick, but there had to be a weakness somewhere. “Don’t you have a drill gun? Or a drill you reformatted into a gun that can still be used as a drill?”

“I have a regular gun.”

“You do not.”

“I do!” Brainstorm insisted, pulling the standard issue pistol from subspace. “I was just about to see if I could do something about the problem of a finite ammo capacity (spoiler, I could’ve) when Light’s t-cog started spinning. I have others on me, but nothing that’s gotten the Perceptor stamp yet.”

“Everything else you’ve got will kill us if we fire it?”

“Might,” Brainstorm corrected, “they might kill you. Percy just hasn’t had time to test them yet.”

“Okay, fine.” Rodimus glanced around once more, optics falling on one feature he’d thus far overlooked. “You know what? We can work with this.”

It’s a simple fact that if you’re desperate to have floor-to-ceiling windows along the vehicle-accessible corridors of your miles-wide spaceship, they’re going to need to be reinforced. Heavily. A full round of shots fired at point-blank from a non-infinite pistol might be enough to get a crack in it, but that’s about it.

Of course, if you then ram that crack with a Matrix-armored sports car dropped from the undercarriage of a speeding jet, you might get somewhere.

Rodimus hit the window bumper-first, vibrations from the impact traveling in both directions throughout his frame. Whatever he was feeling, though, the window was having a much worse time: the crack stretched and exploded, shards of glass whipping out into the empty density of space. Rodimus went with them, and for a brief second he feared he would never stop going, before strong arms and the sound of thrusters secured him.

::We’re alive!:: Brainstorm’s comm crackled to life in his audial. ::And assuming at least a couple people listened to Minimus’ instructions, we should be looking at a good—oh frag.::

::What? How bad is it?:: Rodimus tried to angle his mirrors, but two teal wings blocked his view.

::It’s fine! Don’t worry!::

::That’s my ship, Brainstorm, of course I’m going to worry!::

::It’s alright, Rodimus.::

::Who was—::

A white hand appeared in front of them, large enough that Rodimus could have done donuts on its palm, large enough to punch a moon clear through. Brainstorm’s thrusters were straining to slow them down while Rodimus’ emergency brake slammed on, but momentum seemed committed to mashing them like a reverse rustbug.

The hand shifted, flipping over so the palm was underneath Rodimus, scooping up until his tires were just skidding across the metal surface. Forgetting to release his brake, his swerved before he came to a stop, swinging around and taking in the full view of his ship as, with a final ripple, her plating shifted into place.

She glowed. From the fuel rods around the corona of her helm and the winding lanes of windows around her arms, legs, and sides, light streamed from her, but not so much that she hurt to look at. Her optic band was a solid magenta and, Rodimus suspected, unseeing, but even that gave off a light that drew the eye, even as Rodimus felt the increased pressure of the hand lifting them up. In their ascent, they passed her chestpiece, the bow of the ship, and through the viewscreen Rodimus saw a decent portion of his crew, staring back out at him.

They came to a halt in front of her faceplate, and from this distance Rodimus could see the wavering patterns of optical lights, perhaps attempting to generate an expression. Ratchet would demand a look at Perceptor’s coding, he thought, a moment before the Lost Light’s voice returned.

::Hello, Rodimus, Brainstorm.::

::You gave her a comm suite?:: Rodimus asked, glancing at Brainstorm.

::Didn’t you check the ident?:: Brainstorm returned. ::She’s using the communications hub.::

::Oh.:: He glanced at her again. ::Can you access all of our major systems like that?::

::Yes.::

::Cool. Neat.:: An independent Cybertronian with the ability to quantum jump. And they’d been doing so well staying off the bad side of this reality’s Galactic Council.

::Do you have a name?:: he asked.

The optic lights wavered, shifting without meaning.

::Of course,:: she said. ::Drift named me Lost Light.::

Rodimus spluttered.

::How do you know that?::

::I have complete access to all in-network records,:: she said. ::My ‘memories’ extend as far back as my registration five million years ago, though they become more comprehensive within the last several decades, starting with the commencement of your quest.::

::Anything anyone ever dispersed via in-house networks, saved to a private console, or was automatically logged by the systems is up for grabs,:: Brainstorm said. ::Makes introductions pretty simple, at least.::

::Sounds like a fancy way of saying she’s got the worst possible first impression of everyone, but sure, that’s an optimistic way of looking at it.:: Brainstorm had climbed off him, so he transformed and took two steps forward. ::I’m Rodimus, your co-captain. Though, you already seem to know that.::

::Yes. I know all of you.:: For a moment, Rodimus thought they were moving again, but it was the large helm tilting forward. ::Thank you, by the way, Brainstorm. Though I unfortunately agree with Minimus Ambus’ preliminary assessment of your actions, I do appreciate this opportunity to be alive.::

::Like creator, like creation, I guess!::

::Wait, you talked with Minimus?:: Rodimus asked.

::Of course. I’m speaking to everyone right now,:: Lost Light said. ::I’ve been looking forward to this.::

::Wow. You’re either going to be Swerve and Misfire’s missing trinemate, or their biggest competition.::

::I do not find either of those options appealing.::

::Oh, yeah, that’s fine!:: He waved his hands. ::Just a joke. You can do whatever you want, now, you’re your own bot. Well, within reason, I guess. We might need to make another new officer position for you, and then—::

::I will continue to perform my duties, Rodimus. You have no need to worry in that regard.::

::Oh, good.:: Rodimus’ spoiler sagged and a few bubbles of trapped air escape his vents. Brainstorm’s scheme hadn’t dehomed them, at least.

::If you wouldn’t mind hearing it, I do have a request.::

Rodimus’ spoiler twitched back up.

::Sure!:: he said. ::After everything we’ve put you through, we owe you, huh?::

::I would prefer you not consider it that way,:: she said. The connection crystalized and strengthened into a private transfer as Lost Light cleaved Brainstorm into his own channel. ::After reviewing the records, I find I admire you, Rodimus.::

He stared.

::Oh?::

::Despite what you call a poor first impression, I have observed a crew that cares for each other and looks after its most vulnerable, with you as the spark that inspires such communal behavior. You act for the good of others, you encourage selflessness and self-improvement. Does that sound correct?::

There was nothing to hide behind on the palm of her hand. That observation could not kill Rodimus’ instinct to flee.

::I, uh. I don’t know?::

A flicker around the optic band again.

::Oh. My apologies. I have only just started to engage in pattern recognition, and it is possible my assessment is—::

::It’s fine!:: Rodimus assured. ::Sorry, you did fine. Um, yeah, I guess you could say all those things about me. Not everyone would, but if that’s what the logs are telling you, you should trust your instincts. Maybe just like, make sure to update them with your own observations?::

::Acknowledged.:: There was a pause, and Rodimus imagined she was sorting the suggestion among her priority trees. ::I will maintain my assessments as an ongoing process. However, if I am utilizing my initial understanding of each crew member as a basis to form a more informed conception of their character, then it is logical to assume that there must be some element of validity to my initial evaluations, correct?::

::Uh, sure?::

::Excellent.:: Her whole visor brightened, a straightforward positive that must have been easier for her programming to calculate than the emotions it had been trying to convey before. ::Then it is not unreasonable for me to hold to my initial conviction that I admire you, Rodimus. If you have time, I would like to get to know you better.::

::Huh. Uh.:: He hated to make assumptions, but the way her visor sparkled seemed more coordinated now. ::Can you give me one moment?::

::Of course.::

He hopped into a channel so well worn it felt like sinking into his own thoughts.

::Rodimus? Are you okay?::

::I’m fine, Drift,:: he said. ::Just, uh, need some advice.::

::Just advice? Not a rescue? Rewind and Perceptor managed to map out a way down to the shuttle bay, if you need an out.::

::No, no,:: he insisted. ::I’m just… I really don’t want to assume anything, but I think it’s possible my ship just asked me out?::

::Oh, yeah.::

::Oh, yeah?::

::I mean, she did,:: Drift said. ::Before you and Brainstorm broke free, she commed everyone, introduced herself, told them her favorite thing she knew about them, then asked about you.::

::Do I… want to know what she asked about?::

::Depended on the person. Swerve got interrogated about whether you’re available.::

::Swerve?::

::The Lost Light Insider pegged him for a rumor monger and she ran with it.::

::Cool. Great.::

::Hey. Really, you okay up there? Tailgate’s halfway through the vents, we can come get you, if you need.::

Rodimus pointed his gaze down to the deck, though he was too far away to see anyone individually. It was possible the ship’s exterior cameras were still streaming to the command screens, in which case Drift would undoubtedly catch his disapproval.

::Please make sure Tailgate doesn’t get squished, I don’t need Cyclonus seeking vengeance against our ship.::

::Sure. But seriously, Rodimus, are you okay?::

Rodimus spun his wheels with a flick.

::I’m fine. I just… isn’t this, I don’t know, kind of taking advantage?::

::I mean, she asked you, and—wait, are you interested?::

His engine heated up and Rodimus started to pace.

::I don’t know! Maybe?::

::Aw, Rodimus!:: He could imagine Drift’s face: goofy smile, softly dimmed optics. ::Hang on, I’m patching Ratchet in.::

::No, hang on, you don’t have to—::

::You’re saying yes?:: Ratchet demanded as the new connection crackled through.

::I don’t know,:: Rodimus insisted. ::I could? She’s attractive. And she knows a lot about me and hasn’t decided I’m worthless slag.::

::Rodimus,:: Drift chided.

::Hey, look, I’m not saying that about myself,:: he countered. ::Just that it’s a conclusion she could have come to, but didn’t. And I guess I kind of like that?:: He shrugged. ::I wouldn’t mind getting to know her. First new Cybertronian we’ll meet for a long time, you know?::

::Sure,:: Ratchet said. ::Follow her lead, but be up front about your expectations.::

::Both of you will have bots looking out for you,:: Drift promised. ::Seems like she and Nautica are already hitting it off pretty well.::

::Alright.:: Rodimus smiled. ::Okay, thanks guys. I think I can handle it from here.::

::Sure you can,:: Drift said.

Rodimus cut the call and switched back to Lost Light’s channel. Brainstorm was wandering around behind him, still engaged in his own animated conversation with his creation.

::Still with me?:: he asked.

::Of course.::

::Great,:: he said, offering her a smile and a flicker of his headlights. ::So, yeah, I’m down to spend more time together.:: He leaned down until he was sitting, crosslegged, on her open palm, brushing the smooth metal with his own hand. ::You can tell me all about what it was like that time we were getting chased by space pirates.::

::I look forward to it,:: she said. The platform of her hand drifted closer, until Rodimus could have reached out and brushed his fingertips against his facemask. He could have felt afraid, then, but he didn’t. Instead, he felt a warm light in his spark as he regarded Light, the familiarity and comfort that came with meeting an old friend face to face for the first time.

#maccadam #rodimus #transformers #crack #my writing #oneshot #lost lightimus

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roseskiesandbutterflies · 4 years

Text

Killer Queen - Chapter 12: Thank God It’s Christmas

Summary: Life is easy when things go your way. I know this from experience. I also know that that can disappear in an instant and that you have to be able to rely on your friends. Luckily my name is Arabella Ruth White and I’m the fifth marauder. But I want to show you the girl behind the mask. It takes a lot of work to be this fabulous, darling. (This story is also on Wattpad and AO3 of the same name.)

A/N: So hello again! I know it’s been 3 months since I last updated this fic, and a lot has changed since August so let me catch you up real quick. First of all, in the UK we basically came out of lockdown only to go back into it last week so that’s great. I’m in Year 11 now which is the last year of high school if you didn’t know, and I’m in the middle of my mocks right now, so my free time has plummeted. This unfortunately means that updates across all of my fics will be much slower for the foreseeable future, or at least until Bojo finally cancels our exams. We can but hope.

I hope you enjoy this chapter! Sorry it’s kind of a filler but I promise that the plot is properly about to kick in, just like I said a couple chapters ago. I’ve realised that I’m now the same age as these characters which makes things a lot easier in terms of writing them realistically. Also I’ve decided that all of the characters and just this whole fic in general has main character energy which is Good. We love to see it. Anyways I shall see you next time! Hasta luego.

Warning(s): swearing

Word Count: 3.1k+

Inspiration: random headcanons I found on Tumblr and Pinterest, The Boy Who Killed God by SeraMGrigori on AO3, All The Young Dudes by MsKingBean89 on AO3, Sweet Things by Cocomouse on AO3

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26

Ask/comment to be on my taglist! Let me know if it’s for a specific fandom(s). Full list is in my bio.

Ruth had her face pressed right up to the glass of the tiny kitchen window, making it smear up from her breath, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. She curiously watched her cat, Sooty, cautiously interact with the much larger cat from down the road, circling each other in a manner that would be rather ominous if the former wasn’t a quarter of the latter’s size. Sooty was almost completely obscured by the overgrown grass that was screaming to be cut; Ruth wouldn’t have even known he was outside if it wasn’t for his extraordinarily long tail poking through.

“Ruth, why are you sitting on my poor washing machine?” her mother came in, half amused, half concerned, “You’re going to break the damn thing.”

She gasped in mock offence and turned round to look at her, “Are you trying to say something, Mum?”

She gave her a knowing look and said, “You know that’s not what I meant. Now, you didn’t answer my question, what on earth are you doing on my washing machine?”

She jumped off before Jocelyn could chastise her any further, “I’m waiting for the boys. We were saying about going down the pier or something today so we could give each other our presents, and I’m waiting for James’s parents to apparate them all to our garden. And they’re taking forever,” she pouted, elongating the last word way more than necessary.

“Well, what time did you tell them to come round?”

Ruth thought about it for a second before saying, “Around one o’clock, I think.”

She raised an eyebrow, “And what time is it now?”

She looked at the ground and mumbled, “Half twelve.”

“Well, there you go. You have half an hour, and you haven’t even got dressed yet,” she pointed out.

“But-”

“No buts. You’re not going out in your dressing gown so go and get dressed,” she said, playfully swatting Ruth with the tea towel and chasing her out of the kitchen.

She laughed maniacally as she ran out of the room, “But Mother, I am dressed,” she said, taking off her dressing gown like a stripper.

“Then why are you wearing your dressing gown?” Jocelyn asked exasperatedly.

“Because it’s bloody cold!” Ruth grinned.

“Language,” she muttered, shaking her head with a smile but sobering up when she noticed Ruth’s face fall, “What’s up with you?”

She faltered for a moment, caught off guard by Jocelyn’s quick observations, “Mum, did you, erm, did you hear about Melanie?” she grimaced with the fear of treading grounds such as those. Her cousin hadn’t mentioned anything about who she had told about the pregnancy, so for all Ruth knew, Jocelyn didn’t have a clue and she was about to get Melanie into some serious trouble.

Luckily for them both, Jocelyn’s face softened with understanding, “I heard. Your aunt told me all about it a couple weeks ago.”

“What do you think about it all? I mean, Christ, Mum, she’s only seventeen,” Ruth sighed, running a hand across her hair with an anxiety that she hadn’t even realised she had been suppressing.

“Come here,” she said, taking Ruth into her arms and holding her for a moment, “She’s going to be okay. She’s not alone, remember that. She’s got your aunt and us and that boyfriend of hers. She’ll be fine.”

A sudden knock at the window followed by four familiar faces made both Ruth and her mum look up in surprise, followed by a disappointed laugh from the former when she noticed that Sirius was only wearing his signature leather jacket, with no hat, scarf or gloves. She opened the kitchen door to let them in, hugging each of them as they entered.

Jocelyn smiled at the group before winking at her daughter, “I’ll make myself busy, then. Have fun today,” she said as she left with her steaming cup of tea.

Ruth grinned before turning to the boys, “Sirius, darling, it’s December, not June. Where the hell is your coat? And don’t tell me you’re too cool to actually keep yourself warm,” she added before the boy in question could say anything.

“Leave it, Ruth, I’ve been trying to talk some sense into him all morning, he won’t listen,” James sighed dramatically, sounding scarily like an exhausted mother.

“I won’t listen? You’re the one who nearly strangled me with that damn scarf!” Sirius exclaimed, looking desperately to the others for back-up, only to be met with shrugs.

“You dress appropriately for the weather, or you face the consequences,” James deadpanned, before bursting into laughter from the miffed expression on Sirius’s face.

“God, you really have become your mum, haven’t you?” Peter smirked, holding back his own laughter.

“Shut up, Pete!” he whined, stomping on the ground petulantly.

“Now you’re my brother,” Ruth snorted.

*************

The fresh air bit at their noses as they made their way down the bustling high street, bracing themselves against the crisp December wind. Sirius was still the only one not wearing a coat, the rest of the group bundled up in their Gryffindor scarves which may or may not have been the only scarves they owned. Except for fifteen-year-old-grandmother Remus, who absolutely had a worrying obsession with anything you could make via knitting and the like. Peter had been positively swallowed up, and between his hat that looked about two sizes too big and his scarf, you could only see his eyes and the top of his nose.

“It’s a bit nippy out here, lads,” Ruth said, just as an icy gust of wind hit them, bringing tears to eyes, and actually making Peter stumble a little bit. As Jocelyn said at every possible opportunity, the wind was always stronger at the seaside.

“Is it really, Ruth? Gosh, I hadn’t noticed, thank you for telling me,” Remus glared at her, which would have been tenfold more menacing if half of his face wasn’t concealed by windswept hair.

“You are most welcome, dear Remus,” she grinned, sticking her tongue out at him in defiance.

“Children. Actual children,” Sirius muttered in a tone not at all dissimilar to that of an exasperated father.

“Says the one who refused to put his scarf on because he’s a stubborn bastard,” James said pointedly.

“Oh, you’re still going on about that one?”

“Always, my dear boy, always. I’m already making sure my best man’s speech mentions it at least twice,” he said proudly.

“He’s gotta find someone to marry first,” Peter pointed out, voice muffled from under his scarf.

“And what’s that supposed to meant, Pete?” Sirius rounded on him, forgetting completely about James’s strange obsession with his lack of winter clothing.

“Well, I don’t know but it might have something to do with the fact that you’ve never had a girlfriend for longer than three weeks,” Ruth shrugged.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Ruth,” Remus laughed, “But she does have a point, Sirius.”

“Why are you all ganging up on me, it’s very rude,” he huffed, “Anyway, it’s not my fault that I want to win the bet me and Ruth started in third year.”

“Darling, you’ve always had the option to pull out and admit that I am proud to be the biggest hoe that Hogwarts has ever seen,” she said with as much faux innocence as one can muster while talking about sex.

Sirius was silent for a moment before pointing out, “Wait, hang on, I’ve had a girlfriend for longer than three weeks. I went out with Emmeline Vance for about five months!”

“You mean you were on again, off again with Emmeline Vance for about five months,” Remus raised an eyebrow.

“You’re both gonna end up clapped as anything by the time we leave,” Peter mumbled as they walked through the threshold of their destination: Ruth’s beloved record shop.

Cromer’s one and only record shop was a favourite haunt of Ruth’s. If anyone wanted to find her during the school holidays, the record shop would be the first place they would go to, the second being the arcade on the promenade because they have the best games darling, and the third being the beach. It never seemed to cross anyone’s mind to look for her at her own home; it was a generally unspoken rule of sorts in the town that seeing Ruth at her house was as rare as seeing a double rainbow. It was the place where a good part of her pocket money went to, and the owner was incredibly grateful to have such a loyal customer. Ruth just told him to consider himself lucky that his was the only establishment in walking distance of her house that supplied her with her vinyl obsession. And oh boy, did he do just that. The White family were responsible for a good twenty per cent of his sales.

They filed into the shop, instantly taking off their hats when the somewhat aggressive heat hit them. The limited daylight spilt in through the floor-length windows that flanked the door, highlighting the records on show. The shop itself was rather small, with only two aisles running straight down to the till. They were separated by cases upon cases of albums, packed like sardines into their crates and sorted semi-alphabetically. Posters adorned almost every available space on the otherwise dull walls, looking over the customers with a keen interest. Underneath them were further crates, these ones pushed back against the walls and full of singles, which were ordered even more haphazardly than the albums if you could believe that. Ruth made her way down one of the aisles, leaving the boys to browse artists that they barely even knew. At the back end of the shop sat the counter, behind which sat the owner, Steve.

Steve was a rather short and stout man who had the grave misfortune of looking around a whole decade older than he actually was. That was more so to do with the way with which he held himself, and the fact that he wore those glasses that had a chain attached that you only see on elderly men, than his physical appearance. He had a terribly receding hairline that seemed to creep back every time Ruth came into his shop. She reckoned that he’d be completely bald by the time she left Hogwarts for good. He always seemed to wear the same attire, consisting of loose-fitting trousers and a grey t-shirt that always had a stain that Ruth would rather not enquire after. His fingers were coated with a nicotine stain that you only get after smoking for a good few decades, teeth and fingernails tinted yellow.

His smile was warm, and his eyes lit up like a match when he noticed Ruth walking up to the counter, “Arabella, good to see you!”

“You too, Steve, how’s everything been these past couple of months?” she asked, leaning on the counter with her elbows.

“Not bad, not bad,” he said, “A lot better than this time last year, that’s for sure. Thanks, by the way, for the advert in the newspaper suggestion. Business has gone up a great deal since then.”

“Well, I couldn’t let you give up the shop that easily, could I? Nah, you’ve supplied me with the very best music these past few years, it was the least I could do,” she beamed.

He smiled gratefully at her before glancing at the boys behind her, leafing through bands they’d never even heard of for the most part, “I see you’ve brought your mates at last.”

Ruth snorted as they all poked their heads up and waved at the same time, each one oblivious to the other, “Yeah, I thought I might as well, I’ve been putting it off for too long.”

“One of them your boyfriend?” he winked, laughing at Ruth’s mortified expression.

“No! God, no, that’s a horrible thought,” she shivered, recoiling in disgust.

“What’s a horrible thought?” Sirius asked as he sauntered up to the counter.

“Your face,” Ruth muttered as he swatted her shoulder, mouth agape in shock.

“How rude! I can’t believe you would say something like that!” he gasped before turning around and whining, “James! Ruth’s being mean to me!”

It was then James’s turn to gasp in disappointment, “Is she? Oh, come here, I’ll protect you from the meanie,” he said in the most motherly voice he could muster, opening his arms and hugging Sirius while glaring at Ruth.

She stared at them in disbelief, looking at Remus and Peter for guidance, only to be met with shrugs. She resolved to simply shaking her head in exasperation and turning to the ‘new releases’ section of the shop.

*************

“You know what we should do,” Ruth said, holding up a chip to emphasise her point, “We should go on a gang holiday when we’re older. Just go travelling for a couple of weeks or something.”

They were currently sitting on the beach which, as you can probably imagine, isn’t the most pleasant of experiences in the middle of winter. The harsh wind nipped at their faces and Peter’s nose was crimson with the cold, but they found themselves sitting there anyway, watching the teal waves advance and retreat under the December mist that lazily rested on the ocean’s surface. They were sharing a couple of bags of chips that they’d bought from the chippy just aound the corner from Ruth’s house, trying their best to shield them from the prying seagulls circling the skies above them like hawks.

Peter audibly gasped with excitement, “We should get one of those caravans that muggles used to drive all the time in the sixties.”

“Yes! And we could charm it so it’s bigger on the inside like the tents they have at the Quidditch World Cup!” James added, ecstatic just to have been able to chime in with a Quidditch reference, let alone about the actual holiday. Sirius grinned stupidly as they high fived, making Ruth cringe and groan like an embarrassed daughter having to watch her parents kiss. Though, once she thought about it, that analogy was pretty accurate, perhaps more than she would have liked.

Remus held out his hands in suspense, something he always did when he’d thought of a master plan, “Two words. Tardis. Caravan.”

The sounds that then erupted from the group could not be described as human, more like a group of over-excited seagulls.

Once they’d calmed down, which took more time than it probably should have done, James suggested, “We should go to France so Sirius can show his French off!”

Sirius glared at him, muttering under his breath and by doing so, proving James’s point, “Putain de chienne. Je ne me montre pas, vous seriez tous perdus sans moi.”

“Oui, oui, er, baguette,” Peter snorted, rubbing his arm when Sirius hit at him playfully.

“Right, well,” Remus cut in before they jumped at each other’s throats, “Presents? The whole reason we’re here?”

“Gosh, Moony, here I was thinking that you were here because you wanted to see us and enjoy our company, but no, you just want your damn chocolate,” Sirius huffed.

Remus blinked at him for a second before asking tentatively, “Moony?”

“Moony,” he nodded.

Remus pinched his brow and sighed, “I’m going to regret asking but why?”

“Werewolf. Moon. Moony,” he explained as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

He raised an eyebrow at him, “Do I get a say in this by any chance?”

“No. I’ve thought of names for all of us, actually. I’m Padfoot, Peter’s Wormtail, Ruth is Silverspot and James is Prongs,” he counted off his fingers before nodding resolutely.

James smirked, eyes gleaming and Ruth already knew what he was going to say, “Am I Prongs because of my big–”

She slapped a hand over his mouth and glared at him menacingly, “Finish that question and I swear to God, James, I will slap you into next year.”

“Sirius, I think you’ve had far too much spare time on your hands,” Remus said while James and Ruth engaged in a very mature staring competition that lasted all of ten seconds.

“Yeah, five days without us and you’ve given us all nicknames,” Peter added, looking rather concerned for his friend’s mental state.

“Do you want me to change yours to Massive Knobhead?” Sirius asked with a scarily fake smile on his face.

James cut in before any fighting could ensue, “Okay, let’s get on to the presents, shall we?”

Sirius just shrugged and made a noise of vague agreement, while Peter just looked rather relieved to avoid conflict.

*************

“Sirius, will you keep still!”

It was the fifth time that Remus had had to utter those words in the past two minutes, much to everyone’s annoyance and to Sirius’s amusement.

“Keeping still is for wimps!” Sirius announced with a stupid grin on his face before ruffling his hair once again.

“My fingers are gonna fall off from the cold at this rate,” Peter scowled, shooting daggers at Sirius with his eyes. Remus had given him a polaroid camera for Christmas after he’d been going on and on about wanting a muggle one all year, and he’d been trying his best to get a photo of the others for what felt like hours.

“Sirius stand still or I will petrificus totalus your sorry ass,” Ruth groaned, and James had to suppress a cheer when Sirius finally, finally, did as he was told. Peter took the photo as quickly as he could and waited patiently for the photo to develop, grinning when the image came into colour. “Let us see, then!” she exclaimed impatiently, holding her hands out like a baby would and snatching the photo from Peter.

“Oi, careful, I did not wait that long for Sirius to stop moving for you to just rip the bloody photo in half,” Peter huffed, re-joining the group with a false reluctance.

James grinned when he got a look at the photo, “Oh, Pete, that’s a bloody good photo. You should be a photographer or something,” he said, ruffling Peter’s hair playfully as the boy’s face flushed red.

“He’s got a point, Wormtail,” Remus mused, watching Sirius’s face light up at his use of the nickname, “It is a good photo. Though it’s weird having us stood still for once, I’m so used to us being in magical pictures.”

“I like it,” Ruth smiled, glancing at the boys affectionately, “I think it makes it even more special,” she paused for a moment, inhaling the very essence of that moment and relishing in it, “Happy Christmas, lads.”

#hp #Harry Potter #Harry Potter fic #harry potter imagine #Marauders #marauders era #marauders fic #marauders fanfiction #70s marauders #James Potter #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #peter pettigrew #marauders oc #marauders headcanons #marauders imagine

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natsunoomoi · 4 years

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Chinese Romance Novels in English

So by chance and obviously successful marketing, I’ve had a lot of web novel apps being advertised to me and out of boredom I downloaded one and got hooked real bad.

The first app I got I think I might delete because most of it seems like trash and was clearly like American wannabe writers. I kind of just read the first few chapters of one story that they happened to put into an advertised Facebook post and I just wanted to continue the story 1 or 2 chapters just to get off the cliffhanger, but the story itself actually isn’t that good and the character motivations seem kind of stupid. The main character also seems kind of like a Mary Sue where like she is just special by some huge coincidence of fate and it’s kind of annoying. Like the beginning part was alright, and then it took a sharp turn when the first guy she was into that rejected her decided for some stupid reason to challenge her new guy who accepted her and then when he claimed to not concede a fight to the death, he went absolutely apeshit and somehow it traveled into dark magic. Idek. Plus like...almost all the stories on that app for some reason have to do with wolf people and packs? Like it’s obviously some kind of trend inspired from Jacob and Twilight and I don’t even like that series. And in addition to that, it’s like on par with the famously former Twilight fanfiction 50 Shades where it has some really uncomfortable unhealthy depictions of BDSM relationships. Like it’s just kind of thrown in there for no reason...? Like whatever floats your boat, but you can totally write it in there in a more sensible way and not just like throw it in randomly. In that sense, maybe it’s actually worse than 50 Shades. Seriously a lot of the stories on there read like horribly written fanfiction by a 12 year old. I was 12 once and my stories then were no better because I had too many ideas and wanted them all in. That’s how much of a mess those stories are. This one I just mentioned is the better one. There’s another one I started reading that’s much worse that’s like a high school drama that I barely remember the story too, but I remember the person putting in a whole ton of One Direction lyrics, which I think is going to get the person and the app sued because lyrics are copyrighted and the writer shamelessly pointed out they are a Directioner and to unlock new chapters you need certain items that you can earn or buy and basically they’re definitely making money off of it.

But then similar to how I found this app, I found another app that had Chinese romance novels translated into English in the same way I found the previously mentioned app through a Facebook ad, which is cool cuz I don’t often get to read literally anything with main characters that are Chinese let alone Asian. Most of the Asian protagonist media I consume is from Japan and I just gave up on looking up anything in Chinese cuz I honestly didn’t know I could find any in English.

But damn, the quality of writing is rather good. The translations could use some work and consistency where sometimes the translator doesn’t know common English expressions or there’s grammatical mistakes in newer chapters or sometimes I think they’re speed translating too fast and accidentally mix up characters. But the story itself is top notch and suspenseful. I’ve been reading non-stop for the last week and a half and caught up and am awaiting new chapters. Sometimes there’s bits where character decisions are a little frustrating or like some of the plot twists are like again or like how come this person can’t catch a break, but I got invested in the story so quick.

There’s two in particular I’m enjoying right now. One is Irresistible Romance and the other is Thorny First Marriage on Bravonovel. It’s actually a bit pricey to charge for diamonds and pearls to continue the story, but I felt like it was worth it because I did want to read more and didn’t regret it. I actually started a third today just because I ran out of chapters in those two. Both are similar in that the male lead that the female protagonist is with or trying to get with is like a rich Chinese business man that is so well-known for their business acumen and power via their company that they can strike fear into the hearts of other people and companies. So there’s like some intrigue and like really fascinating maneuvers and media manipulation.

In Irresistible Romance, the main character is an actress that had a really shitty relationship with the loser President of her management company who was cheating on her with another actress and he had convinced his fiancee (the main character) to basically give up her life for him and help him to push the actress that he was ultimately having an affair with. The main character, Yan Wen, gives up the final straw when like he ditches her at the Marriage Registration Office for some lame excuse where he’s with his mistress and by chance the rich guy in this story shows up at the Registration Office and gets stood up by his own prospective fiancee although for him it was a random girl he picked from a pile just to satisfy his family getting on his case about not finding a wife. So basically because the main character grows a spine and decides fuck her fiance she’s not going to just take his bullshit, she asks the rich guy, Jiang Sui-an, if he’d mind marrying her. He totally accepts though and they get married on the spot. He seems at first to be kind of a cold-hearted jerk, but he’s actually super cool. Like he marries Yan Wen just to get his family off his back, but then after he does some research into his wife and finds her super interesting and as she begins her journey of trying to take back her life from her ex-fiancee and his stuck up bitch mistress, he like finds out and helps from the shadows and like realizes she’s actually super cool too. And then like through the whole process they actually fall for each other and are super sweet and have each other’s backs. They have a really beautiful and healthy relationship where they can each have their own separate lives and do their thing, but they get supported and help when needed.

It was so refreshing cuz like the rich CEO thing was like a huge fetish for sure especially after 50 Shades, but like a lot of people noted, that relationship was hella unhealthy. This story though, Sui-an lets Wen take her time fixing her career and life in her own way and like postpones announcing their marriage so she can set things right herself. He totally supports her space and her own decisions, but if he ever sees that she needs an extra boost or gets backed into a corner by some unexpected thing, he steps up and lends a hand. But ultimately he leaves everything up to her decision. And like on her end too, she’s totally a really good supportive wife and tries to make sure she doesn’t worry him too much and that he gets plenty of sleep and eats regularly, and she even tries to help him where she can with his work. They are so cute together. Along the way a lot of other people try to defame Wen or pull some shady entertainment world tactics, but she stays poised and lets the truth come out on its own or even does some defensive research and stuff. It’s so good.

Plus, writing-wise it’s really fascinating how they intertwine the online commentary tabloid headlines into the story so you can see different angles. And then when they write the antagonists’ sides they give you their internal dialog POV so you can understand the situation the best. The actual story and plot development is so good.

Then Thorny First Marriage, holy shit the intrigue. Plus for the most part, the main character is most like my personality only I’m not a former journalist. It’s just a lot of her reactions and sassy thoughts to things are really similar to me and how I feel like I would react if I was in her position. There’s a few times where she does things that I don’t think I would necessarily do or I would do things a bit more drastically, but so good and I identify with her. Writing-wise I don’t think it’s as good as Irresistible Romance because there’s been two times where they kind of forgot about something that they mentioned in an earlier chapter, so they have some issues keeping track of their plot twists, and there’s a few times where I’m reading like, “Why don’t you just tell them what happened and then they’d STFU?”

But yeah, this story starts out with the main character, Xia Zhi, waking up in the presidential suite of a hotel and not knowing how she got there and distinctly feeling like she was raped and finding some...remnants on the bed next to her. As the plot develops you find out that her asshole husband, who had never touched her himself for some reason and has the spine of jellyfish, sold her to some rich guy for 2 million bucks (she finds out later). What the actual hell? What kind of husband pimps his wife to another man?! And like she gets a pregnancy test later and somehow someone blabs to her mother-in-law and her mother-in-law totally doesn’t believe her and she knows that her son and her were never intimate, so she throws her out of the house. Then some dude that’s like some kind of secretary or assistant just comes by all stalker-like that appears to be from some rich guy that knows her and basically coerces her into going with them and going to some mystery safe house mansion. She’ll be cared for there by two staff, but she also tries to escape and find out who tf this guy is and if he’s the Dad. She still has a job and goes to work as a journalist, but gets assigned to interview some rich VP of a famous company. All the while she’s trying to get a hold of her asshole husband to find out what the hell happened to her that night she didn’t remember where she got super frickin’ drunk at his company party. This dick has been in hiding and trying to avoid her for some reason since that night and he finally calls back in the middle of her interview and because she’s freaking out about her unexplained pregnancy she unprofessionally takes the call. The rich VP, Sang Qi, ends up calling her boss and getting her fired, which I mean, obviously. That’s a thing where I probably wouldn’t have taken the call. One of the differentiating things between her and me. But how she reacts to being fired, yeah, that’s totally me. She runs into Sang Qi later at a rich people shopping mall shop and somehow manages to steal his phone and starts a plotline where she tries to use it as leverage to like get back at him and make a living for herself that also involves him being crafty and like kind of tricking her into some situations like confronting her ex-husband. And then like at some point she remembers a custom cufflink she remembered finding in the room she woke up in that one time and starts to wonder and suspect if maybe Sang Qi was the guy cuz he does have those kinds of things. And she like looks at the cufflink she has that she took from the room as evidence, but she has to do a direct comparison. He like uses GPS to find her mansion prison and tries to take back his phone and Zhi gets like even more suspicious that he is the guy cuz for some reason he knows how the balcony door at the place works even though it has a weird af lock, and they have witty banter and somehow he ends up staying over and she tries to sneak in his room at night to check out his cufflink but he catches her. And like hot damn, so much intrigue. After like a ton of frustration with trying to interrogate everyone around her about who the baby Daddy is she’s just like f it, I’m not going to be your baby incubator and tries to go get an abortion (I would’ve gone way sooner) and before they can start the procedure Sang Qi shows up and claims to be the Dad, and then afterward also takes care of her because she’s allergic to anesthetic. Since she knows who now they like stay together and stuff and she tries to question him about that night, but he actually has no memory of it either cuz he was super frickin’ drunk too. It’s just a lot of unanswered questions. And like since he’s supposedly the Dad, he tries to get closer to her, but she won’t let him really. There’s a lot of witty banter between them and like he even helps her out with her loser husband by getting him demoted. Over time they actually become fond of each other and like used to each other, and it’s really sweet. He actually is there for her and helps her on a number of occasions even though she doesn’t really trust him cuz of course he bought her right? But then little by little you see them really start to like each other and it seems like he might be more interested whereas Zhi is like more reserved because he’s her captor as far as she knows. But then just when you think that maybe they’ll get together, Qi disappears and then the process of him showing up you find out who the actual Dad is and a whole lot of family drama, and other drama where like you actually don’t know where Qi stands, and it like isn’t until like where I am that you find out he was actually upright the whole time. It’s so stressful but it’s so good.

There was a couple of times earlier one where there’s misunderstandings with other people, where I was like, dude, just tell the people your asshole husband sold you for money. I think they’d be more understanding of your situation if they knew.

And then like...for me, I like Qi and I came around to him after awhile, but like I suspected him and didn’t like him toward the beginning especially because he didn’t do or say anything that made him seem trustworthy. He never really lies except for one thing (about being the father), but also he like isn’t that truthful either, or rather, he doesn’t stop to actually explain himself properly which would have made Zhi not like freak out or mistrust him and would have made me not mistrust him. Like I shared a lot of Zhi’s fears because she was in an unfamiliar situation and being manipulated like a puppet by someone with money, and this guy claims to be the one that bought her like an object to be a baby incubator. I and the main character can’t respect that no matter how nice he is. If he admit he didn’t do it at the beginning it would have made all the difference. It’s a trek to find out who though. And at first even that guy sounds disgusting, but like where I am in the story maybe not? Like almost sympathetic.

The only one that I like really hate and disgusts me is her original husband. Like eww. He’s such a greedy asshole. And like later on you find out that actually he lied to her about how much he sold her for and it was actually more. What the actual fuck?! It wasn’t bad enough that you sold your wife for money, but you had to lie to her too about how much it was so you can hide the money from her? And for such a long frickin’ time he tried to coax her to come back and to not divorce him. What the actual hell? What kind of delusion is he living in?! But like also her original husband reminds me of someone I knew in real life when I was in uni. He was a friend of mine initially, but at some point he started making really uncomfortable jokes and it seemed like he liked me or something. I never viewed him that way, but we just hung out. And then at my uni because there was a huge rush to like try to figure out 2nd year housing, we arranged to do a co-ed roommate situation where like me and another girl and him and his friend would stay in apartment from our second year. To me that seemed normal cuz other friends of mine did that too because there’s only so many people you know and you have to try to snatch up and apply for apartments as soon as possible. There were long wait lines and I actually hadn’t thought about it until the last minute, so I didn’t see it as having much of a choice. But he started making cracks and fantasizing about neighbors and people misunderstanding and thinking we were married, which I didn’t find funny and how and why when there were other people we were living with too? It made me super uncomfortable and during the summer he was kind of like a stalker and tracking where I went so I just started avoiding him every chance I could. After awhile thinking about him made me feel physically ill. The next year after that my roommate decided to move out with two other girls into a different apartment (after unsuccessfully trying to make him leave). But the whole thing with how Zhi’s first husband was written totally reminded me of that guy. Especially with the lame excuses when confronted and stuff and not thinking and his unhealthy tie to his parents’ way of living.

That said, finding these stories are kind of like an unexpected comfort. I wish I could find someone as supportive as Sui-an or Qi. Especially when the men I’ve met in my life were just as bad as some of the other male characters or arguably worse. I’ve been bullied by the guys I fell for, I’ve liked some guys that were way too moody, I’ve had guys that liked me that were not creepy too, but I just wasn’t interested in them or the timing was just wrong, I’ve given up someone I really cared for because a mutual friend of ours crossed a line and then posthumously went kind of crazy from the grief, and I’ve met guys that were really fucking stupid and didn’t know how to act appropriately in a professional situation and actually sexually harassed and retaliated against me. I’m so tired and almost 4 years into living in Japan, I’m starting to realize that because of that last one, I think I gave up on my life because of trauma. Just hurt too many times, so don’t even think about love anymore cuz why bother? It took awhile for me to even be able to become a functioning human being again after the PTSD of harassment. I was really bad and freaking out because the guy that did it was so frickin’ stupid that he like wasn’t actually responsible enough to know the things he shouldn’t do and it was freaking me the hell out that he just didn’t know when he crossed a line. So I ran away to another country and tried to rebuild some semblance of a life for myself. Now my home country is a goddamn mess and I’d be in a worse position to go home, but at the same time, although my heart has healed enough to the point that I can function as a human. I am not at all motivated to look for anyone or let myself care for someone ever again. When I was younger I had so many dreams and really wanted a family. But now I am sad to say I have resigned myself to believing that that will probably never happen because I am apparently plagued by horrible people. I haven’t met horrible people since I’ve been in Japan, but I also don’t go out and talk to anyone other than co-workers and students because I’m busy and in my free time I want to introvert. It’d be kind of nice if I was lucky and had a kind of random chance like Yan Wen cuz like, I just can’t and don’t want to put up with low quality people.

That said, I was talking with my boss and co-worker the other day and we were discussing how China’s population problem with the bachelor society so there’s a lot of men but less available women to be their wife, so I was kind of wondering if that was also kind of how come so many modern day Chinese romance novels seem to involve a rich CEO. I suppose in China right now the chance that you could marry one is greater than anywhere else in the world because of the population problem, so maybe they’re trying to promote moving there and marrying them. LOL I’d be kind of suspicious of whether or not they’d be able to be like actually good husbands for real, but I suppose there probably is some sense of desperation.

And then because I ran out of chapters to read for today because I have to wait for them to translate more, I started another one about a Bossy Ghost Husband? It’s kind of creepy at the beginning, but the ghost husband thing has been something I was kind of curious about because you can marry the dead in China. But like for real I also wondered if youkai really are real or not and if you could unknowingly marry a youkai or something too, so basically it’s right up my alley too. And then also because my life is garbage I was like seriously thinking and wondering if it would actually be so bad to be single to the people who know you around you, but married actually to a ghost and have a ghost husband to go home to? Like would that actually be bad? I suppose in that same vein, it’s not much different from WoL having a secret relationship with Emet-Selch, but yeah.

Anyway, all of this gave me a lot to think about.

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wellesleyunderground · 5 years

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Wellesley Writes It: Interview with Patrice Caldwell ’15, Founder of People of Color in Publishing

Patrice Caldwell ’15 is the founder & fundraising chair of People of Color in Publishing – a grassroots organization dedicated to supporting, empowering, and uplifting racially and ethnically marginalized members of the book publishing industry. Born and raised in Texas, Patrice was a children’s book editor before shifting to be a literary agent at Howard Morhaim Literary Agency.

In 2018, she was named a Publishers Weekly Star Watch honoree and featured on The Writer’s Digest podcast and Bustle’s inaugural “Lit List” as one of ten women changing the book world.

Her anthology, A Phoenix First Must Burn – 16 stories of Black girl magic, resistance, and hope – is out March 10, 2020 from Viking Books for Young Readers/Penguin Teen in the US/Canada and Hot Key Books in the UK! Visit Patrice online at patricecaldwell.com, Twitter @whimsicallyours, and Instagram @whimsicalaquarian.

Wellesley Underground’s Wellesley Writes it Series Editor, E.B. Bartels ’10, had the chance to converse with Patrice via email about publishing, reading, and writing. E.B. is grateful to Patrice for willing to be part of the Wellesley Writes It series, even with everything else she has going on!

EB: When did you first become interested in going into writing and publishing? Did something at Wellesley spark that interest?

PC: For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved writing. It’s how I best express myself. That love pretty naturally grew into creating stories. I’ve always had a very vivid imagination. I’ve also always been pretty aware that publishers exist. I remember at a young age noticing the logos on the spines of books (notating the imprint/publisher), so by the time I was a teen I could recall which publishers published my favorite books (served me very well in interviews, haha) and was curious about that process. But I was a theater kid, intensely, that’s what I thought I would do, but then I decided to go to Wellesley and majored in political science (especially theory—I took ever class Professor Grattan, she’s brilliant) but then dabbled in a bunch of other subjects, including English. I think English courses definitely strengthened my critical thinking, but I absolutely do not think you have to be an English or creative writing major in order to work in publishing or be a writer. My theater background is just as helpful as is my political theory one. (I have friends who are best-selling authors who did MFA programs and others who never went to college.)

Wellesley was my safe space. I came back to myself while at Wellesley. I wrote three (unpublished) manuscripts during my time there, starting the summer after my first year, and I held publishing and writing related internships. I also took a fantastic children’s literature course taught by Susan Meyer (who’s a children’s author herself!) that changed my world. I highly recommend it. We studied children’s literature, got to talk to an author and a literary agent, and we wrote our own stories. I later did a creative writing independent study with her, and I truly thank Professor Meyer for expanding my interest in writing and publishing.

EB: How did People in Color Publishing come about? What goals do you have for the organization? What would you like people to know about it?

PC: I founded People of Color in Publishing in August 2016 to allow people of color clearer access into the book publishing industry, better support networks, and professional development opportunities. It really is about sending the elevator back down for others after climbing (& maybe even assembling) the stairs.

We’re currently working towards nonprofit status. You can learn more about us and our initiatives at https://www.pocinpublishing.com/ and sign up for our newsletter, which is incredibly well done. As you’ll see when you visit the site, the organization really is a team effort. I don’t and couldn’t do this alone; I’ve had an amazing team with me from day one. We each play to our strengths and work really well together. (The org is very active on Instagram and Twitter, too!)

EB: I am really excited about your collection A Phoenix First Must Burn, coming out from Penguin Random House on March 10, 2020. What inspired you to put together that anthology? What was challenging about the process of compiling the anthology, and what was rewarding about it?

PC: Thank you; I’m so excited for it as well. I talk about this more in the book’s introduction, but I was inspired by my eternal love for Octavia Butler—the title even comes from a passage in Parable of the Talents—as well as similar adult market anthologies like Sheree R. Thomas’s Dark Matter, and wondering what one for teens would look like. The answer is power and imagination like I’ve never before seen, in the form of a kick-ass, #BlackGirlMagic anthology that’s hella queer—I love it and wouldn’t have it any other way.

Before I became a literary agent, I was a children’s book editor. The editing of these stories was the easy part. It was super fun. The hard part was wrangling of everyone, haha. Thankfully they were amazing to work with and I wasn’t doing it alone—my then editor Kendra Levin also has a fantastic editorial eye.

As for what was rewarding, my younger self needed this. Like I said, it’s Black and queer. Since Toni Morrison passed, a day hasn’t gone by in which I’ve thought, about how she wrote for Black people, especially Black women, unapologetically. I feel that deeply. I got to work with some of my favorite writers writing today. How often does someone get to say that, you know. And, I grew a lot as a writer. I never thought I could write a short story, but I did. We’ve been getting some really great early reviews (like this beautifully-written starred review from Kirkus, OMG!) But going back to how my younger self needed this, the most rewarding thing has been the people who’ve reached out how excited they are to read it and how much they’ve been craving a book like this. It’s a dream come true. A dream I strategized to reach, worked my butt off on, and so yeah, I’m over the moon.

EB: You're also the author of a YA fantasy book (publication date TBD) in addition to the anthology. How is the experience of writing a fantasy novel different and/or similar to compiling an anthology? What advice would you give to someone writing their own book (of any genre)?

PC: It’s such a different experience in that writing this novel is all me, especially because it hasn’t sold yet (I’m finishing revising it now). My agents are amazing, with an excellent editorial skills, and so they’re certainly there to help and advise me should I need them—and then I have author friends I can ask for advice too—but ultimately if I don’t write this book, it doesn’t get written. There’s no one else to nudge.

The similarities, however, between novels and short stories are that ultimately, I’m the same writer, I’m the same person. For instance, I love experimenting with structure. My story for A Phoenix First Must Burnbegins in the present, goes back in time, and ends again at the present. The story I just wrote, for Dahlia Adler’s Shakespeare-inspired anthology, is epistolary—told partially in journal entries, and my third short story (for an unannounced thing) takes place partially on the set of a scripted reality TV show, so there’s definitely going to be script excerpts throughout. My novel is similar in that it’s told through three women, but two of them are narrated in first present tense (like, I am) whereas one is in third past (she was). And then every few chapters I have an excerpt of something from this fantasy world’s archives—oral myths passed down about various gods, peace treaties made over the years, accounts from the war that just ended, etc. It’s been a huge challenge and lot of fun.

I didn’t have the skills to pull this book off when I started writing it, which is something I think a lot of writers deal with at some point. Therefore, I had two options: put the book down and write something more manageable or take the time it took to write this. Neither option is better than the other—the best option is what’s right for you, and I didn’t have anything more manageable that I was as passionate about, so I had to write through it. When you’ve tried everything you can possibly try (including breaks, they’re important!) to unstick your story, you have to write through it. You have to deal with the voices (including sometimes your own) saying you can’t, and the only way to truly deal with those voices is to show up to the paper, the screen, whatever it is, and write. In writing and believing in my own work before anyone else has, I’ve found my confidence. Confidence in your own writing is key because only you can write the book you want to write <3.

EB: What are you currently reading?

PC: Realm of Ash by Tasha Suri. I just loved herdebut novel, Empire of Sand, and I’m so pumped to be diving into this one. Badass women, incredibly rich worldbuilding, and very cool magic as well as a lot about access to forgotten history and assimilation into other cultures.

My Dark Vanessa by Kate Elizabeth Russell. It is getting fantastic early reviews and was pitched as a 21stcentury Lolita (by one of my agents who sold it actually) and given all the #MeToo conversations, it has ended up being super timely. I hated Lolita (could not finish), and I love this book. Oh, and Stephen King loved it, which for me is an auto-buy. It’s out March 10, 2020.

The Midnight Lie by Marie Rutkoski. You definitely don’t have to love someone’s books to be friends with them, but in this case, Marie is a friend whose work I’m obsessed with. It’s set in the same world as another one of her series—one of my favorite series that’s like game theory in a fantasy world and begins with The Winner’s Curse. Marie is brilliant, this book is brilliant, and it’s also very queer. It’s out March 3, 2020.

Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik. This book has been getting the best of reviews and praise, so it’s been at the top of my to-reads list for a while, but I started reading it because a friend mentioned that it has multiple POVs all in first person (which is very unusual), and like I said, I love playing around with stuff like that. This is book is a masterpiece.

As you can tell, I love reading books. I also love book hopping, so I’m always reading a bunch at once. I’m on a bit of a fantasy streak right now. But from October to December 2019 I read like a romance novel a week (sometimes three a week, haha) and revisited my favorite urban fantasy series, so if you’re into those check out Chloe Neill’s Chicagoland Vampires + Heirs of Chicagoland series, Tessa Dare’s Girl Meets Duke series and of course our very own Jasmine Guillory, my favorite of hers thus far is The Wedding Party). After I’m done with my revisions, I wanna take a writing break and sink into Emily Wilson’s translation of The Odyssey and Dan Jones’s The Wars of the Roses: The Fall of the Plantagenets and the Rise of the Tudors.

EB: What future projects/goals do you have for yourself and your career?

PC: I spent most of Wellesley working towards two goals: being published and working in publishing. In doing so, I accomplished a lot in a very short time, and I totally wrecked my mental health—it took most of 2019 to rebuild that. I’m trying to live more in the present and enjoy that. Career wise, I’m just gonna trust that I’m already doing the work I need to do and that I have the support systems I need to help me keep doing that. And for a personal goal, I have been wanting to spend more time in Paris—I went back for the first time in ten years for all of February 2019, and just loved it. My whole soul felt at home, so I’d like to take some French lessons to fill in the gaps (I took French from middle school through sophomore year at Wellesley and achieved proficiency, but I want to become fluent). And then I want to visit more for longer and see where that takes me.

EB: I so admire your freelance hustle, and as someone attempting it myself, too, I know that sometimes it feels like you have to work 24/7 to make it possible. How do you set boundaries for yourself and your work? How do you take care of yourself?

PC: So, I’m a literary agent and a writer, which means my entire income comes from commission I make from the writer client projects I work on and sell as an agent and advance payments (and hopefully royalties down the line) as a writer. That said, I didn’t become a literary agent until June 2019, and didn’t get the first payment from a client book I sold until November, so most my income is still coming from writing (for reference, I received my first advance check in fall of 2018).

As of now, balancing the two isn’t that hard for me. But you have to understand that I was first an editor and a writer, so I had to do most of the deadlines for A Phoenix First Must Burn while also going into an office 5 days a week, from 10-7/8pm. Now, I manage my own schedule.

My main “freelance life” struggle was that I was diagnosed with ADHD this year. When I left my full-time, salaried job, at the end of 2018, I didn’t realize just how helpful that structure had been. To me, that structure was only ever a limitation. I felt like it was ridiculous with all of this technology that we all had to be in NYC, I felt like editors needed to be more proactive, I preferred to travel to book festivals and teach at workshops and meet writers where they are, etc. etc. But then, without that structure, everything fell apart. Suddenly, tasks that used to take me five minutes could actually take me five hours because I only had myself to answer to. I would hyper-focus on everything but what I needed to be doing. It was a really hard time for me because I had all of these things I wanted to do now that I finally had more time to do them, but ADHD had other plans—I constantly felt like I wasn’t achieving what I knew I could because I had done it before.

I had to learn to forgive myself. This is how my brain works, and there are a lot of strengths to it (like if I remove distractions like the internet, I can hyper-focus for hours, I’m a fantastic problem solver, and I thrive in chaos—all things that help me excel at my work). Learning to forgive yourself for not accomplishing all the things, whether you have a mental illness or not, is really important.

You also have to be hyper-aware of your strengths and weaknesses. What are things you know you’re just not good at? Can you pay someone else to do it? Is there an app you can download that can make that task easier? I delegate and outsource every detail-level thing that I can because I’m horrible at details and I’ve finally accepted that that’s okay. One person cannot do everything forever; it’s not sustainable.

And then you also have to say no. If you can afford to say no to something that doesn’t really interest you / have a high payoff, do so. That is how you set boundaries. My health has become so much better ever since I started saying no to more things. Why? It gives me time to do other things, those things I’ve been saying forever I’m going to make more time for (like French lessons and reading books for fun). Now, my evenings and weekends are for non-work things. I love my jobs they’re still jobs.

Trust that you’re on the right path. Trust that you have the support systems you need and if you aren’t or don’t, dream and strategize towards those.

Ultimately, I am the happiest I’ve ever been and that’s because I finally stopped focusing my whole life around my jobs, stopped caring what people who aren’t paying my bills think, and started living my actual life.

EB: What else would you like our readers to know about you and/or your work?

PC: I have a website, Twitter, Instagram, and a newsletter. If you enjoyed this interview, definitely sign up for my newsletter (& check out past issues) as I always give creative life pep talks, share recipes and what books and tv shows I’m loving. I think of my newsletter as a longer form version of my Twitter. My website is a pretty standard website—you can find out more about my own books, my clients, events I’m attending, etc. there. And my Instagram is slightly more personal, with pretty pictures of my face and my book haha, and I share daily/weekly updates about my writing there via IG stories.

And, of course, buy my book: https://patricecaldwell.com/a-phoenix-first-must-burn

Thank you so much for having me and for reading. Happy New Year!

#wellesleywritesit #Wellesley Writes It #Wellesley #Wellesley College #Wellesley Underground #wellesleyunderground #Patrice Caldwell #EB Bartels #E.B. Bartels #class of 2010 #class of 2015 #Wellesley '15 #Wellesley '10 #People of Color in Publishing #publishing #writing #people of color #PoC

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superchartisland · 5 years

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Lemmings (Psygnosis, Amiga, 1991)

Gallup all formats individual formats chart, Computer & Video Games Issue 114, May 1991

[Elements of this post are based on sections of a previous piece I wrote on Oh No! More Lemmings.]

AAA of the 1980s has been a story of computer games as a source of surging creativity in the UK, but also a story of a local audience in splendid isolation. The compromised remakes of Japanese games that made it to #1 in the UK were pretty much a one-way trade. By the end of the 1990s, British developers would be responsible for two of the world's most famous and successful games. Those games would be made to a much bigger scale. In 1991, as mainstream games got more complex, for them to be the effort of one or two individual programmers was already increasingly rare. It was a time when having the right conditions for teamwork paid off.

A small team called DMA Design made Lemmings, which is not quite one of those giant British games but did sell millions and get ported to a large proportion of the world's game formats. Lemmings’ hook is inspired by the Disney-constructed idea that the rodents of the title deal with over-population by rushing off cliffs en masse. The game’s ‘lemmings’ are more human, tiny people with white skin, blue clothes and green hair who drop into each level from an undisclosed location and walk steadily forward until instructed otherwise, even if it's to their own doom. Each level has an exit back out of its world, and your task in Lemmings is to use a set of limited abilities to work out a route to get your team of charges from A to B, where sometimes B is across the C, or A and B are both in L. You can get lemmings to knock through walls, block others from moving forwards, build bridges, blow shit up, and so on, with each level giving you both a different map and a different number of each of the abilities.

Once Lemmings has got through teaching you how its abilities work, it moves on fast to both using them in increasingly complicated combinations and making you think laterally about ways to use each one. The form of the appeal of this is highlighted in a mock warning on the game’s cover and title screen text scroll disclaiming responsibility for “loss of sanity, loss of hair, loss of sleep”. The suggestion is that the appeal to the player lies in their own frustration, or at least in building that frustration to the point where the relief of release from it is ecstatic. The ideal Lemmings level, perhaps, should appear initially impossible until a sudden mental breakthrough that reveals it’s really easy, followed by the realisation of a complication that renders it impossible again. And so on, perception swinging wildly but settling in on a mid-point final realisation that yes, everything is accounted for and it’s just about doable. Here is where the decision to make each level goal a percentage of lemmings safely to the exit, and often a percentage below the optimum outcome, is a particularly smart one. The slack sometimes allows a sudden realisation that you are losing lemmings to lead to an improvised solution on the fly and resultant success, and that’s another exhilarating feeling of its own.

As a logic puzzle loving, computer game playing child, when I got a brief chance to play Lemmings on a family friend’s Amiga it immediately became one of my favourite things ever. It was an unusual type of game, but it’s easy for me to see how its developers’ policy of getting as many demos of it as they could out there worked so successfully, and how Lemmings had such an impact across the UK and beyond.

There is still a statue of lemmings in Dundee, the game’s hometown. A port city on the East coast of Scotland, Dundee is something like the 50th biggest urban area in the UK and has a totally outsized place in the UK video games story. You could put it down to random happenstance that the handful of people led by Dave Jones who made up DMA Design were from Dundee. But a game like Lemmings coming from Dundee is no more complete coincidence than the procedural space exploration of Elite being the work of Cambridge maths and science students was.

Dundee was once the centre of the jute industry, making fibre for bags and ropes. As the economic viability of that dried up, many skilled (and mostly female) workers transferred to working in a new form of production at the Timex watch factory. Later on, watch sales not being what they had been, that factory diversified into making other technology. It was perfect for our old friend the ZX Spectrum. For Dundee, that meant lots of Spectrum computers available on the cheap, a low-risk chance to experiment, and other opportunities besides. And with that availability, there was an increased chance for connections and community. The Kingsway Amateur Computer Club, where many of the makers of Lemmings met, for instance. For Dave Jones in particular, the Timex connection was more direct as he worked there as a Spectrum tester. When he was made redundant, he used the money to support him and his friends in Dundee to form DMA Design and a few years later they developed Lemmings.

With their own experience with home computers and with British audiences in mind, they made Lemmings for the Amiga first. DMA also drew on a recent British lineage of games led by resource management and clicking on menu options, like Supremacy and Populous (almost as crucial to Lemmings’ form as the lemming was that other rodent-derived computer item, the mouse). Lemmings was a collaboration right from the start, even the most basic animation of the tiny characters being the work of two people. Lemmings wouldn’t be the same without all of those contributions. To take one obvious example, it wouldn’t have the same warmth without Brain Johnston and Tim Wright’s familiar but copyright-avoiding soundtrack, taking “Ten Green Bottles”, “London Bridge is Falling Down” et al on a toytown funk trip. Beyond even a list of credits though, as the series of particular circumstances which brought DMA together in Dundee show, every game is the result of a whole community, providing skills and resources in the right place and right time along the way.

Even above its problem-solving, what stands out about playing Lemmings is that the same message of collaboration is integral to the game itself. So many games that I’ve played for AAA have been about the lone wolf, the highly able individual prevailing against the odds. In the Britain of the late ‘80s, perhaps it’s no surprise that messages of individualism resonated with the prevailing culture. For alternatives, we have seen sports games where you take collective charge of a group of people, and there were precedents for successful games that had you overseeing large populations, even if Populous and SimCity didn’t make it to my UK #1s list. But sports games are limited to a different kind of competitive narrative, Populous had the player as a God and SimCity as combination planner-architect-builder. You were still the one responsible for taking all of the actions. In the more radical Lemmings, you can’t create earthquakes or new electricity supply lines or do anything at the macro level. All actions must be carried out via an individual lemming. The player is but an advisor, or as Martin called the player’s role in the Lemmings post for his original AAA, “an avatar of community spirit”.

It’s not long into Lemmings before you reach situations where you need different lemmings to support each other. Two lemmings might need to be send ahead so one can turn the other around to dig their way back to the group. One lemming might need to build a staircase to put another in place to remove another obstacle. Individual lemmings take actions but afterwards they get subsumed back into the herd. You can only succeed by getting lemmings organised to work together, and they succeed or fail as a group. Each lemming that reaches the end of a level has depended on the resources of the level and the skills of other lemmings being in place along the way. Text on the title screen tells players to remember that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.

The lack of narrative ego is striking. While as the player you are in a head-to-head battle of minds with the level designers, within the narrative world of Lemmings the player is taken out altogether. Even outside of the game itself, Lemmings welcomes further collaboration. There are tests of physical precision and speed in some levels, but with so much of test the game provides being mental, it lends itself to sharing thoughts and ideas. My best memories of playing Lemmings aren’t of playing it by myself, but of sitting with my mum and my brother and working as a team to come up with different possible solutions. Fittingly, it turns out that this was similar to the process by which DMA themselves designed the levels.

There are signs of something darker in Lemmings too, particularly in hindsight. It's in the choice it offers you each time you play a level, a more dramatic version of the deal in Dizzy that if you lose, at least the game will entertain you in the process. If you decide that you can’t complete a level, or you just get bored, you can double click the mushroom cloud icon and watch all of your lemmings explode to maximum dramatic effect, a choreographed carnival of cute violence. The lemmings’ tiny stature and outsized physical expressions, wonders done with a few pixels like the way they shrug when they finish building a staircase, encourage the player to care for them, but the player can blow them all up too.

That’s only a discordant note if you don't look too closely. The game is filled with grizzly traps that kill lemmings in inventive ways, squashing or incinerating them out of nowhere. It turns out, in fact, that those animations were the origin of the whole game, the point in another project at which it became clear that the tiny animated people had the personality to stand alone. There's an irreverence and black humour very recognisable from other British culture in going on to make the cute save-the-lemmings game but still leaving the horror in there. Lurking within Lemmings is the power of a particular kind of anarchic freedom and its possibilities. DMA would go on to take the idea of just letting the player blow everything up and make Grand Theft Auto, after all.

Wherever it started from as a game, though, the strongest message that comes through from Lemmings is the generous one about the importance of people working together. Without everything that community and collaboration provided along the way, Lemmings wouldn’t have been possible, just as its lemmings can only reach their goal by building on the work of many.

#every number one #Lemmings #Amiga #retrogaming

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college-student-in-her-twenties · 3 years

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My Main Takeaways from Attending a College-Level Writing Class as an Adult

Not everyone followed the classic graduate high school, pick a career when you are 18, go to college for four years, graduate, and get a job sort of path. Whether life got in the way, or you simply did not feel like college was for you – I want you to know that it is okay. Life is full of unconventional surprises, nothing goes according to plan, and sometimes you got to pave your own path.

With this in mind, and being in my twenties, I never pictured myself going to college. I love my job reached a point where I consider myself successful. I did not need an ounce of secondary education to get to where I am right now. But then there was a pandemic, and the world was upside down, and I started working from home. I had so much free time, and I realized I could attend college via Zoom. While I find online meetings absolutely dreadful, I thought to myself; I can get this “thing” over with. By “thing,” I am referring to getting a degree.

Fast forward, I applied to Florida International University, I got accepted, I was asked to pick out a major at age 23, I said business (I regret this, I am switching to something less math-centric), and there I was attending my first class. People usually say they feel a knot inside their throat when they are nervous. Well, I felt like I had 27 knots inside mine. While I only knew my classmates through an online realm, I was terrified. I have never been more afraid of 18-year-olds in my life. There was a voice inside my head shouting, “what if they realize I am older?”. They did realize I am older, not because of my looks, but because kids these days look up their classmates on Instagram and send them DM’s. Weird if you ask me, but hey, there were like one or two slightly older people like me in each class, and I felt a bit better about myself. As a slightly older generation, we have to get adjusted to change. Things are not the way we remember them; nobody takes notes in their notebooks anymore. Everyone brings their computer to class and uses an iPad with a journal app to take notes.

While there is so much you can learn online, college makes you step out of your comfort zone. Nothing like a good ole writing class to make you sit down and think about every single choice you have made in your entire life. While in the outside world, we all have access to Amazon books, Khan Academy, and sketchy PDF versions of texts, let’s be honest, none of us are reading them. Instead, my Writing & Rhetoric forcefully exposed me to so many narratives with points of view different from mine. The writing prompts of the class made me sit down and psychoanalyze the way I expressed myself. How my definition of language is rooted in my family’s culture and the places I lived in. As the kids these days say, I was “SHOOK.” While I do not think a person needs college to be successful in their professional life, college incites thinking. You have so many spaces dedicated to discussions and you get to receive feedback from professors who are the brightest people in their fields. As cliché as it sounds, you are forced to step out of your comfort zone.

Going back to why I personally decided to enroll, I required a serious change of pace. I needed to be exposed to other things; I was having a mini Eat, Pray, Love moment, okay? I was already doing all the eating by ordering all the Uber Eats all the time. It was time for that Pray moment; since I am not religious, the closest thing to a sermon that I will watch are TedTalks and god, did I have to watch those while in class. I had to listen to people that I would not typically want to listen to; I browse the internet all day, every day, and would not click on those talks if they popped up on my Youtube. Good thing I had a professor who made me listen to them. I learned so much. Did you know about the Sudani genocide? I did not.

Every assignment taught me something. Watching the Sudan Genocide TED Talk opened my eyes to so much. Not just the gory details of a mass tragedy, but the author explained how powerful sharing her trauma was to her. I thought she was inspiring, and then again, this is an example of a story I would have overlooked if I had not chosen to take this writing class. Now, for the sake of conciseness, I will list my main takeaways from the course. I want everyone reading this blog to also benefit from being exposed to different points of view and appreciate how they can make you a better writer.

Let’s get started.

Tip #1: Never stop writing. There is no such thing as a final draft, and there is something you can always work on or improve about your writing.

Most people do not think of themselves as “writers,” but anyone who can put words together and grab pen and paper are technically writers. What I learned throughout this class is that writing involves practice and dedication. While not everyone has hours and hours to devote to their writing, you can always make sure you at least re-read what you wrote down. Whether it is a text, a Tweet, or a cover letter, make sure to re-read. Even the most seasoned writers make minor spelling and grammar mistakes. Perhaps a sentence you wrote down made more sense in your head than it did on paper; fix it. You will improve your writing by a lot if you stop for a second and re-read.

As writer Richard Marius explains in his essay Writing Drafts, “Some writers cut up their first drafts with a pair of scissors. They toss some paragraphs into the trash; others they paste up with rubber cement in the order that seems most logical and coherent.” The writing process is different for all of us, but it will always involve some sort of re-writing. Adding, removing, or cutting up paragraphs and sentences. Finding new and improved words and expressions to give a better meaning to our thoughts. Writing is a messy yet beautiful process that I had forgotten about and that you probably have too. My advice to you, is to figure out a way to practice your writing. Whether it is starting a blog like this one, writing a letter to a friend, or finding a random essay prompt and writing an essay for yourself. The more you practice, the better you will get.

Tip #2: Embrace your identity. Everyone has a unique origin that makes them who they are. Whether it is your nationality, race, the languages you speak, where you grew up, or who you are surrounded by –make that a part of your writing—no more hiding your true colors.

Before this class, I rarely ever made a point to communicate my background through my writing. Every time I had something to write, I was as neutral as possible, which made my writing lack personality. Times have changed drastically in the last few years, and writing has become the ultimate way of self-expression. Do not be afraid to include cultural elements in your narratives, whether it is a word in your native language with no translation to English or expressions that are particular to your culture. Celebrate your heritage through your writing, and do not shy away from embracing who you indeed are. While I know you will not be writing a full-blown narrative about how your parents are immigrants, I recommend you put this tip into practice in your daily life. Perhaps include details about yourself on your next Instagram caption or Facebook status update. LinkedIn could be the perfect place to reflect about your heritage and the relationship it has with your profession. Your writing shall be a reflection of your true self.

Tip #3: Always keep your intended audience in mind. Make sure your writing suits the audience you are writing it for. Fix your tone, syntax, and structure to cater to the right audience and suit your genre.

This is such an essential tip! For example, when I am writing for my blog, I can say whatever I want and anything I feel. I can incorporate jokes and pop culture references. I can be as sarcastic as I want and as unapologetic as I feel on that given day. The same goes for my social media accounts and private conversations with friends. When writing a formal document, or cover letter that a potential employer would read, I would use a far more serious tone. I would shy away from jokes and opt for formal words. I would ensure my writing is sophisticated and concise. My goal would be to sound eloquent and respectful because I keep my intended audience, the potential employer, in mind.

Tip #4: Do not be afraid to get real. Feel free to write candidly about anything you want, whether it is a personal story or an issue you feel strongly about. Effective writing can help you tell your stories and effectively share your thoughts.

I struggle with this one a bit. While I can be personable and talkative, I am private about most things in life. Going back to the TED Talk about the Sudani woman, Emi Mahmoud, she convinced her audience and gave life to her poetry by opening up. If we did not know about her trauma, her words would not be as impactful. If you watch the conference, you will learn about the warplanes she could hear every morning while eating breakfast and how her hometown became a war zone. That is so impactful and heart-wrenching. Think of writing as a cathartic experience, it will allow you to release whatever experience is causing you trauma and allow you to connect your audience better. Writing about your experiences and who you are, makes you seem more human, which essential to communicate to an audience.

I genuinely hope you read through these tips and at least apply one of them to your writing. Before enrolling in college, I thought I was an excellent writer, and while I am probably not bad, I lacked depth. I did not sit down and think of the purpose of my writing and who I wanted to reach. I seldom opened up and did not let my writing embody who I am. Beyond the four tips stated above, my most important takeaway from this class is to be a fearless person and allow that to translate into my writing.

This philosophy can be applied to anything in life. For instance, if you want to go to college, do it. If you do not want to pick out your life at age 18, that is okay too. If you are 40, have kids, a job, a dog, and a mortgage, but feel like there are things you want to learn inside a classroom that Youtube cannot teach you, go to college! You mind your life, your choice. It is time for people to feel empowered to whatever they want at their own pace.

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thranduilsperkybutt · 7 years

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ThranduilsPerkyButt’s 8,000 Follower Challenge

Oh my gosh, darlings! We’ve reached 8,000 followers! Out of this world, I know! I never expected to get this many followers, but here you all are, and I cannot express the warmth it brings to my heart to know that you enjoyed my stories enough to follow me. Thank you, truly! I’ve been kind of obsessed with challenges as of late, so I decided to try out making my own challenge, maybe, and see how it goes. It’s my first ever one that I’ve made myself, so I get if no one wants to write the prompts lol, but hopefully some of you do!

| Rules & How to Sign Up |

You don’t have to be following me, but that would be rad if you were. :)

You can write anything! Smut, crack, fluff, angst, smangst, smluff, flangst, etc.! Whatever! I just wanna’ read it! And, in the true spirit of my multifandom blog, you can write from any fandom you want as long as it is a fandom from my fandom’s list (found here), and any character(s) you’d like from that fandom!

Only reader inserts, please! There must be a “reader” character (A.K.A. “you” or “Y/N”). No OCs. Sorry!

You can choose multiple prompts, because I’m going to let the prompts be open. That means they’re all free game for everyone! Feel free to use them as you see fit!

You can change the prompt’s pronouns (he/she/we/they/etc) to fit your fic, but nothing else can change! The prompt has to be included in your fic in some way.

See a prompt you like? Great! If you want to join, send me an ask that includes the prompt(s) you’ve chosen so I’ll know what list(s) to put you on. I won’t be accepting people any other way than through my ask box! You don’t have to tell me what character/fandom you’re writing for, but you can if you want!

Please include the character/fandom above your fic when you post it, as well as any and all warnings that could be associated with your fic. If it is over 500 words, please add a -keep reading- cut!

Be sure to tag me (@thranduilsperkybutt) in the fic as well as mentioning the prompt(s) and that this is for TPB’s 8,000 Follower Challenge.

Tag your fic with #thranduilsperkybutt and #tpb8000followerschallenge

If I don’t ❤︎like❤︎ your fic within 24 hours, feel free to send me a link via IM because most likely I didn’t see it! I wanna’ read all of these and give credit where credit’s due! My like will show up as my main blog (megmeg-chan) liking your post! When I reblog it on TPB, I will unlike it. (I will also reblog it on my main & include it in a masterlist I’ll make when the challenge officially closes.)

The deadline for all fics to be in is two months from now on January 1, 2018, so you should have plenty of time! If you need an extension, please message me! I’m pretty lenient, so we can totally work something out!

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Alright, then! There are 30 quote-like prompts beneath the cut! They’re pretty random and I just wrote up whatever came to mind that I thought could possibly inspire cool fics. I will reblog your fic if you choose to write one, as well as make a masterlist for all of the fics once the deadline comes.

| Prompts |

1. “I’m in love with you! Why are you acting like that’s a crime?”

2. “Maybe if you didn’t eat everything you came across, we wouldn't be in this mess!”

3. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you shouldn’t stick your hand anywhere that you can’t see. This isn’t an Indiana Jones movie and I’m not sticking my hand in there!”

4. “Are you going to help me bury this body or what? You were all ‘ride or die’ before.”

5. “Did you do any work while I was gone? Or were you just sitting here playing Fallout 4 all day?”

6. “Yeah, he tried to take over the world, but I’d still be down if he asked.”

7. "I can’t believe that this is happening. I thought I was gonna’ be a virgin forever!”

8. “For once, I’m not completely terrified of letting you take the lead on this. Either I’m getting used to your shenanigans or I’ve completely given up trying to stop you.”

9. “You spent $300 dollars on movie tickets in one weekend? What?”

10. “Why is there a life-sized cardboard cutout of Gordon Ramsay in your kitchen?”

11. “I leave it with you for one day and my computer is whirring so loud that it sounds like it’s going to explode. Please don’t tell me you went on any shady pornsites.”

12. “If you play that song one more time I am going to throw your phone out the window and the aux cord with it!”

13. “Look, Professor, I know the paper was supposed to be due today, but you see, it’s a long story...”

14. “I love coming over to your house. I mean, your dog is so welcoming.”

15. “Netflix and chill? More like Netflix and fuck my brains out.”

16. “You get me and that kind of scares me, to be honest.”

17. “Hey, I know I’m calling you late, but I’ve had a bad night that resulted in me actually considering eating at Denny’s and I need you to pick me up.”

18. “Did you seriously just say ‘your mom’ as a comeback? In 2017?”

19. “I really hope my future soul mate is doing great right now, because someday I’m gonna’ need someone to help me emotionally get through that shit you just pulled.”

20. “You... found my tumblr.”

21. “You can’t just go around bashing people’s heads in when things don’t go your way! You’re going to run out of people at some point!”

22. “I tried so hard to keep myself from falling for you. At the beginning, I even told myself, ‘You are not going to fall for him,’ but here I am, madly in love with you and regretting every minute of it, because you’re completely incapable of feeling the same for me.”

23. “Don’t just say you love me. I’ve had people say that to me before, and you know what? People lie. Show me that you love me.”

24. "Let’s get out of here. Go someplace else that’s far away, okay?”

25. “Can we never speak of this again?”

26. “If there’s one thing I learned from tonight, it’s to never trust you with the keys to my car again.”

27. "I don’t want to be anywhere other than right here, right now, with you.”

28. “How’s my favorite customer? You getting the usual?”

29. “Alright, that’s it! You’re taking a break. Put down the textbook, I’m going to show you something.”

30. “You don’t even realize how you sound right now, do you?”

I hoped you liked some or at least one of them, darling! (^.^”) Let me know if you want any!! <3 xx

#writing challenge #tpb8000followerchallenge #8000 follower mark #posts by me #Followers appreciation

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beatsfortheillperth · 4 years

Text

Words with ENTRO//

ENTRO// hailing from Melbourne, Australia is a beat-maker that is making moves within Australia and beyond, showcasing quality sounds that express the eccentric joys of hip hop, not to mention the bounce it induces in the day to day lives of its appreciators.

Which was something that drew me in about ENTRO//, first listen. His ability to change up the atmosphere around well-known rap tracks and their vocals in a way that doesn't take away the integrity from the original is truly blessed.

ENTRO// adds components that trigger the soul with his collection of vocal laced escapades in his various releases. Those ENTRO// escapades are evident in albums like "Tōge" and "Hands Free" released June of this year and "Tōge" October of last year.

Teleport back to 2018 and chill on ENTRO//'s flawless ode to Jazz and Soul "after hours" his nine-track wonder available like all ENTRO// releases via Bandcamp. "After hours" as an album, highlights, and samples moods and sounds that are timeless, it simply can't be missed if you're a lover of soul-infused musical displays.

Not to mention one of his earlier beat-tapes, "Etcetera" released in May 2016 that shows the development and dedication to beats ENTRO// has embodied since the beginning.

You'll notice ENTRO//'s creative response and fluency has shown his dedication to staying true to the roots of a song, and this is evident from the early days for this truly inventive beat-smith.

Innovation at it's best is what you can expect when you hit play on an ENTRO// track. So chill and take in the words of this Australian talent, making music for the soul, body, and mind, much love.

Hey ENTRO// thanks a lot for the opportunity to share words. First off, I thought I'd ask a few random quick questions to get things started.

Favourite Food: Sushi

Favourite Beverage: Red bull

A track to cry to: Jesus is the one ( I have depression)

A song to break it down to: ethereal - Playboi Carti

Last piece of art you brought, and what drew you in about it: Commissioned a piece from Melbourne artists @cactvs - portrait of me and my partner

Views on Reincarnation: donno

Views on Tea: Green

A childhood memory in regards to music: My mum used to listen to Macey Gray and I hated it lol

Go to Album of All-Times: Saba - Care for Me

Favourite Place to Eat in Melbourne: Korean BBQ

What you enjoy doing in your downtime: Video games, making clothes

Favourite Location: Osaka

Thanks for that ENTRO//. So, I thought I'd ask, what inspired you to give producing a go in the first place? Did you play any instruments before you picked up beat-making? How many years have you been at it and what brings you the most joy when you're making music?

I've played instruments since I was young. Guitar and drums mostly. I also learnt viola at school but that sucked ass. I've picked up piano recently too.

I just enjoy creating things I like, all the music I release is stuff I enjoy listening to myself.

When making music, do you have a routine you follow or a way you set your creative environment up before getting onto a track? If so, how do you find this benefits your mood and your creative output?

Not really, I just sit at my studio and listen to music, roll up some broccoli, look for samples, make drum tracks. I'll find something that sounds cool and go from there.

What does ENTRO// mean and represent to you? What is something you're trying to share through your music?

ENTRO// is just a form of expression for me - I just share what I enjoy making and am blessed to have people enjoy it the same way I do.

Melbourne has such a well, developing community for beat-makers and musicians in general, much love to those based in Melbourne bringing up other artists. Artists like Amin Payne whom we interviewed a while back and SADIVA whom we are in the works of words with too.

Humble individuals devoting themselves to sound, really feel that.

What do you enjoy about living and creating in Melbourne? And what do you feel Melbourne has to offer musicians that may be unique, compared to other areas in Australia you have visited or lived in?

Melbourne is hella diverse when it comes to music, and we're lucky to have a lot of opportunities to play live and network with each other. Everyone is super supportive too, it's nice to have a community like that.

Can you share more about HIGH BIAS a monthly event based in Melbourne that you are a part of?

High Bias is originally an event brand me and my partner put together with Fiftyfive. Through everyone's support and our amazing community, we've grown into a multi venue event group, as well as a clothing brand and micro cassette label.

HIGH BIAS I believe is a label as well, focusing on Mirco cassette releases for artists creating in the realms of Hip-Hip and Jazz and also supplies quality merch and vintage apparel through their website too, love the concept.

HIGH BIAS Website - https://highbias.supply/

Can you share what HIGH BIAS means, believes, and represents collectively?

High Bias was originally a homage to the "good old days" of lofi, before Spotify playlists and anime beats. We focus on the culture we fell in love with - and try to share that with everyone else.

These days, we've expanded our scope to become a platform for all things "sample culture." Essentially that means anything that reinvents conventions or turns them into something new. We try not to limit ourselves on what we want to do - we take each thing as it comes and decide as a group whether it's something we believe in and want to represent or not.

What is the feel of the live, monthly shows known as "Lofi Lounge"?

Lofi Lounge is pretty much what it sounds like. Lofi beats in a basement lounge bar. We also host jazz bands and hip hop crews, artists and video DJs too. We focus on creating a vibe rather than a show, we want it to be somewhere to chill with homies and catch up with the community.

And with the restrictions in place with Covid19 here in Australia, has HIGH BIAS had ideas for online shows?.

We think live streaming shows is quite over saturated right now - and it's not something we're excited about so its not on the cards right now.

What else can we expect from HIGH BIAS in the coming months?

Once venues start to re open we'll be back with our usual programming. We've got some more clothing drops on the way too - and finally a little secret project in the works with Good Mood Melbourne, but we can't speak too much on that right now.

Are you hoping to have HIGH BIAS in full swing again after restrictions have been lifted?

Absolutely.

What do you think you enjoy most about being a part of HIGH BIAS? And finally, what do you feel encouraged the move to start selling quality threads? The collection is mint by the way.

Thanks! High Bias allows us to support the community and share things we love.

We started making threads because outside of music, I've always been big on clothing and streetwear. It's another avenue of expression. We aim to make clothes that are sustainable and affordable, while still focusing on design and cuts.

What do you love most about expressing a part of yourself through music? Do you feel your music makes you feel vulnerable sometimes? If so, how do you overcome and embrace those feelings?

It's always enjoyable creating something, I do it for myself first and foremost. I'm just lucky to have people that like it as much as I do. Making music isn't a vulnerable thing for me.

When I first started sharing my music it was a little frightening putting it out to the world - but you kinda just have to do things like that sometimes and cop the feedback. Makes you a stronger person.

With everything going on worldwide at the moment with protests, illness, and lack of employment, what do you think creatives should be doing to show their support for those affected?

I don't think it matters who you are, people should look out for their friends and family - think global act local.

What do you feel creatives within the realms of Hip-Hop should be doing to show their appreciation for the roots and fore-creators?

As a white dude I don't like to speak on what we should be doing as it's not my place. But what's most important is to listen, be respectful and know that we are guests in this culture.

Would you say you like to explore various genres? What do you enjoy most about adapting and creating your own sound?

I donno, as a music fan I listen to many different genres, but when it comes to creating music I do what feels right. I'm really into that heavy 808 type stuff right now, so I try to blend jazzy, soulful stuff with that.

Let's go back and talk about your earliest beat-tape released in 2016 known as "Etcetera".

For me, this release as a whole is dosed in those smooth tones and jazzy feels that had me thinking to myself,

"Surely, you'd been producing a while before you released music?",

"Etcetera" is a blessed release to play track 1 to 10.

Favourite track for me is "INFAMOUS", much love for the skills displayed in this timeless release.

Link to Etcetera here - https://entrobeats.bandcamp.com/album/etcetera

Can you share how "Etcetera" came about and also, why the name Etcetera? Can you remember what your thoughts were like on the release date? What atmosphere were you trying to create with this release?

Etcetera is actually just a collection of beats I made in the early days. It's not something I revisit often but it was a good benchmark of what I had made at the time.

Do you have a favourite track from "Etcetera"? If so, what beat and why? Finally, what inspired the names of the tracks on "Etcetera"?

I don't really have a favourite from that album, I actually barely remember it lol. When I name tracks there's nothing special too it, it's normally a play on the original samples name, or a line from an acapella I used.

Thanks for that. Can you share a little about Lab Co and what they represent? You've released with this collective quite a bit.

What do you feel Lab Co represents and, what do you enjoy about releasing and creating with Lab Co? Where is Lab Co based?

Lab Co is literally just a crew of homies from mostly Melbourne. We're not as active as we once were but we all still play the same shows and catch up all the time.

It came together through us all being heavily involved with BeatLab, a show put together my Walla C and Clay Adams.

They gave a lot of us our first shows - and it grew from there. It's amazing having a tight knit crew around you, I love all those guys and girls and am forever grateful for it.

Going back to 2016, you also released another beat-tape in that year, "Wave '92" which is a full release consisting of 26 tracks that you put together for Melbourne based label Groove Penguin Records and HIGH BIAS.

For me, there are too many added goodies for me to choose a favourite.

You supply variety and innovation when it comes to working with beats and, your style feels very natural.

Link to Wave '92 here -

https://entrobeats.bandcamp.com/album/wave-92

How did this release come about and what inspired you to create it?

Also, what do you appreciate about having the opportunities to work on your music with other local curators and labels?

Funny enough, I was working a cafe at the time and got talking to the dude who runs the label as he was a regular customer. One thing lead to another and we put together the tape. It was awesome meeting everyone in that community and learning the ropes. I appreciate them for putting out my first physical release, meant a lot.

2018 was a good year for experimental Hip-Hop in Melbourne with the release of the HIGH BIAS compilation "local cuts [comp #01]" which showcased the works of producers and beat-makers that have played at the monthly Melbourne shows "Lofi Lounge".

Insane tracks by artists such as SADIVA, ohwell, and yourself are featured in local cuts and it's such a release.

Bounce, emotion, and soul are all present in this comp, cheers to all involved.

Link to "local cuts [comp #01]" Here- https://highbiassupply.bandcamp.com/album/local-cuts-comp-01

Your track "i'm lazy these days" for the compilation was a smooth jazzy number. The piano simply carries you away, much love.

What's it like to perform at a "Lofi Lounge"? Also, what was it like to make "i'm lazy these days"? Clever track name btw.

Performing at Lofi Lounge is pretty chill.

We let people do their thing and just facilitate them.

I'm lazy these days was literally thrown together in 20 min cus I forgot to make a beat for the tape lmao, hence the name.

Does your family know you make music? If so, what does your family think about your sound and how do they show support for what you do?

Yeah! They're real supportive as well, they think cus I got a couple million plays on Spotify that I'm like a big deal, so it's kind of cute lmao

Away from music, what does your day to day activities usually consist of? Does your day to day inspire or influence the music you make?

Not much right now cus of isolation, but it's normally a lot of going to shows, seeing homies, playing video games. Inspiration comes from experience for me. Whether it's listening to new music or getting hyped from someone else's success.

Can we look with a wee bit more detail into your August 2018 release "after hours"? Which has to be one of my favourite albums by yourself.

Jazzy vibes that suit day or night layered in drums that make the heart skip a beat, vibrant and balanced, I've found myself playing "after hours" on repeat. Thank you for the effort you put into this one.

Link to after hours here -

https://entrobeats.bandcamp.com/album/after-hours

You produced this album in 6 months too, what was that like?

Just like any other project for me, I catch a certain vibe and run with it till I have something

Did you create any deadlines for yourself with this release? Also, what was "after hours" like to create?

I never do deadlines, I try to release at least one full length a year but it's more important for me to make sure the music is ready before pushing it out.

What atmosphere were you trying to create with this 9-track blessing?

Just some lounge type hip hop beats - I didn't think too much about this one but I do think I really refined my style at the time when it came to that release.

Do you have a favourite track from this release, if so, which one and why?

Nokia 3310 by far - it's just such a tasty sample.

Last year you released "Tōge" a 14 track album that showcases lofi hip-hop laced in all things phonk and jazz, with drums that add bounce and has the head-bopping till you hit the last track "Class Is Over", to the way you worked the vocal samples in "Tōge" which also needs to be commended.

Nice work yet again on this release, I feel it's a must cope for anyone who enjoys experimental hip-hop. "Tōge" seems to show how you subtly change your sound and still hold that integrity within your work, it's blessed to hear through-out this entire release.

When one purchases this release, you're also gifted with 11 bonus musical blessings that are just worth the purchase, much gratitude for the additions.

Link to Tōge here - https://entrobeats.bandcamp.com/album/t-ge

Can you share what "Tōge" was like to create? What encouraged the vocal samples you worked with in this release? And finally, what did you enjoy working on most with this album?

Toge for me was my departure from lofi. I was experimenting with 808s and slower tempos, triplets etc. I started using Acapellas from modern rappers I liked, putting it into a different context over my type of beats. It was refreshing to do something different.

If you still have it in you, I would love to discuss "Hands Free" which you released at the start of June this year.

This album has your track "double cheese" in it and this track was my introduction to your sound.

Your take on "Double" by Smokepurpp and NLE Choppa just blew me away, subtle alterations to the vocals that enhanced drums as I had never heard them before. You added another layer of soul with your take.

I knew at first play you'd be someone I'd love the opportunity to share words with so before we end, I'd just like to thank you for what you're doing within music here in Australia.

Back on "Hands Free" what inspired you to put this release together?

Link to Hands Free here - https://entrobeats.bandcamp.com/album/hands-free

Nothing in particular, I had been working on some new music and with all the time off I've had recently it was a good time to put something together.

What were your nerves like with this release? What inspires you to release bonus tracks with your releases?

No nerves or anything like that. The bonus tracks on that release are for the people that prefer the instrumentals. I like to include them for anyone that buys the album.

Also, what drew in in about the particular songs you chose to sample for this album as a whole and how does this release resonate with you as its creator?

I was actually listening to a lot of Jetson, baccyard and Soudiere at the time so that was kind of the vibe.

Any upcoming releases or collaborations in the works that you would like to share more details about?

I'm always working on music so I'll have some stuff out again soon. Some singles and maybe another EP before the end of the year.

Can you recommend any artists from music and beyond that you feel our readers would benefit from checking out?

Aside from who I mentioned above, as well as everyone in Lab Co - I'd have to say some of my influences when I first started out.

bsd.u, p00k, aNTOJE, mdbnd, AKTR, bugseed,

Any Last Words?

Thanks for having me!

youtube

ENTRO// - Dime Bag

Support ENTRO// Here:

Soundcloud -

https://soundcloud.com/entrobeats

Bandcamp -

https://entrobeats.bandcamp.com/

Spotify -

https://open.spotify.com/artist/1D0OXZyaPPpi1IIXPHnbwt

Instagram -

https://www.instagram.com/entro__/

Twitter -

https://twitter.com/entro__

Youtube -

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC5ju9lC_y1R-aSgSHQ-VAhA

Special thanks to Bonny Scott, Corey Leonard, Dani Caffs and @thelisteningpartyco for the brilliant photography

#phonk #lofi #entro//#interview #beatsfortheill #onlinemagazine

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phansb · 7 years

Text

the blue sun

Inspired by one of Dan’s 2010 tweets, and the lack of 2010 date fanfics.

TW; Homophobia (slight, like 0.5 seconds), F slur, Swearing (because Dan)

Word count: 12k, apparently (imagine shutting up)

[Btw i lowkey wrote + edited this at 6am on no sleep and i deadass havent wrote anything in 3 years so this is probably shit but oh well. Also yes this was sponsered by Dixy Chicken #AD. i did far more reserch on some random resturant in manchester’s menu than i ever truely wanted too.]

//quotes from phil: “your skin looks nice under the blue sun” (sky)

As he walks through Platt Fields Park, Dan wonders. He and Phil have been together for half a year. Everything is still so new, so uncertain. But comfortable. And wanted, needed. It was a foreign feeling. In past relationships he would have never traveled 300+ miles just to walk in a park beside someone, but this is different. Feeling Phils shoulder rub loosely against his own in pleasant silence, it’s the happiest he’s been in far too long. “Nice weather today, huh?” He stiffles a snort-laugh. “Really? We’ve only been dating for seven months and you’ve already resorted to talking about the weather? Am I that boring?” Phil smiles at him fondly. “Not boring, but it is nice out today.” It is. It’s late May and the sky is a clear, soft blue. The clouds are milky, and the grass is a sweet green. “Not as pretty as you.” Dan is glad they’re still in ‘the honeymoon stage’. A time where he can say things like this with no fear or reprocussions. New. “I said it was nice out, not pretty. You dork!” Now he snort-laughs. "You’re nice too!“ They both ascend into giggles for a moment, before the air turns back to peaceful silence. And he was right. It is new. But comfortable. "How about we head towards the pond?” “Okay.”

ii.

They lay in the grass, in more comfortable silence. But a worry fills Dan’s head. Soon he’ll be headed home, far from Phil. It worries him, how much time they spend doing nothing. Playing video games or watching movies, afternoons in the park. There will be plently of time for nothing later, whenever later is. “Should we do something?” “Do what?” Phil raises an eyebrow at him. His eyebrows brownish-red against his night black hair. Very expressive eyebrows. Nice, gentle, thin. He never thought he could find so much to love about someones eyebrows. “I dunno, something. It feels like we’re wasting time.” “We’re always wasting time, Dan.” “But we’re just lying here.” “Together.” And that shuts him up. Because truthfully, no matter what it is, as long as its with Phil, it’s fine. And so it’s fine.

iii.

After, they decide to head to 'Dixy Chicken’, right by the park. It’s a decent place. And although Dan has never been one for cheap fast food, it’s nearby and he’s willing to eat anything at this point. “Two soft drinks, a burger and a chicken dish please.” Phil orders and they sit down. “Can I pay?” Phil asks, although it’s obvious he’ll somehow convince Dan to let him. “You always pay, let me.” “You’re young Dan. I’m a Uni graduate, it’s on me.” “You don’t have a job Phil.” “You have to get home soon too. Your parents would rather you have money. "Phil. It’s seven pounds. I think I can manage.” “But-” “Please.” Phil reluctantly agrees, much to Dans pleasure. Although Dan would never say it, he sometimes feels he’s a burden on Phil. Apart from paying for the train there and back, Phil does everything on his visits. Always pays for the food, buses and movies. And they always stay at his (parents) house. Not to mention the general emotional weight of Dan as a person. He wants to help more, to pitch in. If he’s gonna spend the rest of his life with this man, he doesn’t want it to be Phil’s job to take care of him. “What are you thinking?” Phil asks. He didn’t realise how long he’d been staring into space for. “Nothing.” “Well, our order is ready, should I-” “I’ll go get it.”

iiii.

Dan wasn’t stupid. Sure, he was young, dumb and in love. But he wasn’t stupid. And he knew that although homophobia had lessened in the past few years alone, it probably wasn’t a great idea for him and Phil to hold hands or kiss in a public place. “Kids could be watching!” “It’s a sin!” “You’ll infect the youth!!!” “Burn in hell, faggots.” It doesn’t feel like a sin, but he’d rather not be shouted at by strangers on such a perfect saturday afternoon. Still, walking around downtown alongside his boyfriend, it felt only natural to be linked in some way besides touching shoulders. He grazed his fingers along Phils knuckles slowly, and Phil looks up at him. Dan glaces at his soft pink lips. Oh how he wishes- So he links his fingers with Phils, silent but confident. Phil looks questioningly at him, and he nods. And so they keep walking, and it’s good. A few people stare, one man grunts disapprovingly, but good. It’s amazing for him, actually. How could this ever be a sin?

iiiii.

“It’s getting chilly out. Want my jacket?” “Pfft, what are we, sixteen year olds on a second date?” “No, we are eight-teen and twenty-three on our twenty-somethingth date and i’m offering you my jacket because it’s cold. And I don’t want you to get hypothermia.” “From a few late May chills?” But Dan takes the jacket. “It is getting cold, but the sky is still pretty-” “-nice.” They both laugh louder than they probably should in such a public place, for a moment. “I-it’s nice out. The s-ky is nice!” Dan says through gasps. This wouldn’t be so funny a joke to anyone else, and it wasn’t really to them, but it was a fond memory. Phil then cools down, and eyes Dan for a second. Although Dan couldn’t see it in himself, his hair was adorably curling at the tips now. Chocolate brown swirls. His cheeks and nose were red, a few freckles and spots across his cheeks. A soft smile with softer lips, and eyes you could melt in. Everything about him was perfect in Phil’s eyes. “Your skin looks nice under the blue sun,” he says absentmindedly, before turning away. “What?” “It’s pretty.” Replies Phil. Dan’s face flushes lightly, but he asks “What the fuck even is a blue sun Phil?” “A poetic way of saying the sky, my darling.” He does a little bow and smirks. “Who on earth calls the sky 'the blue sun’” Dan asks, through childish giggles. “Me, obviously.” “I’m tweeting that!”

iiiiii.

It’s dark out now, and the two are headed back to Phil’s place via a city bus. “The stars are hard to see from Manchester City, but they’re getting clearer.” Dan notes. “Yeah, I like the night sky.” “It usually reminds me of how big the universe is. And now small and unimportant I am,” Dan says wistfully “but now it just reminds me of you.” “How?” “Its mysterious, and dark. It has so many beautiful parts. Everyone loves it,” He sighs “And it lights up my life.” “Only you could make night-time bus rides through dirty downtown streets romantic, Daniel.” Dan laughs, “But am I wrong? No. Seriously Phil. You’re the light of our lives. Of my life.” “You’re the light of my life too Dan.” Then he thinks. “So if i’m the universe, what does that make you?” “I am but a tiny glowing star in your infinite universe.” “To me, you are my universe.” “Dork.”

//fin.

#phan #phanfiction #dan and phil #daniel howell #amazingphil #we love a writer 😍😍❤#jk im not a writer i got someone i met on tumblr a month ago to proofread this lol

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wandernona · 7 years

Photo

Hi again!

As I promised you long, long time ago, I am going to share you my story: experiences I went through during my very first work in Jakarta couple months ago. I took notes last time --just so you know, I am no longer working there but I think it might still be worth telling. Whether later you’ll get inspired or fall asleep, here you go.

Pic source via Google

I had notes taken in August 2017..

My very first job after graduation

Here I am landed in one media agency in the capital city of Indonesia. In the world that I’m living in, I was not familiar with the existence of ‘media agency’. And now I am working as a media planner. It started last September in 2016 when I came to one of this job-opening event held in Kuala Lumpur. I entered the room with my head full of thoughts of which table and company should I first come to. So I decided and came to this table. I then handed my CV as the person in charge during that day started to conduct the short interview session. It went well, except that I didn’t know how to answer what that company was about back then. But days after that, I got a call and informed that I got accepted to do the three-months internship with this agency.

What an experience! I didn’t fear anything back then as soon as I introduced myself to everyone in the room. Everyone seemed pretty busy and still, I didn’t get any single clues of what might happen to me after that. Days passed by as I went through all the responsibilities and job desk, I realized I didn’t prepare myself enough to enter this job. I never actually majored in marketing or advertising, and it had been ages since I use Ms. Excel. I thought I will learn a lot about digital marketing but what I did back then was nothing more than technical works such as chopping the newspaper every morning (that was how one the colleagues kept teasing me about to describe the ads tracking activity). Another thing was to bring the wasted paper into the paper shredder machines or sometimes just typing out the notes that I wrote down during the meeting session with random vendors.

Aside from that, the job was pretty much related to media studies I learned at Universities. From all the confusion of those new things and deadline, works thrown with instruction but no guidance –I held myself back, inhaling, exhaling, and I came to the realization: Life before AND after University? They are two different things. I had no choice than to learn it by myself or ask people around whenever they’re not busy with work. Three months passed and slowly, it started to make sense to me, how the company evolves and how the work flows, and each of everyone’s responsibilities in the room. In my last day, I got this empty feeling of not learning much about digital marketing and advertising, but I must admit, it’s a new world to me and such a short of time to get to know it makes me feel like losing.

Living in Jakarta for the first time

As I was still craving for the experiences, I decided to move out from Kuala Lumpur and apply to the same company, with its branch located in Jakarta. The feelings were still going on and off inside me, my brain couldn’t function enough the day I went to the office and met everyone. At that moment when I shake hands with them, I wasn’t so sure if this is what I actually want to do forever. But I know that I really want to learn and this company gives what I expect it from the start: transfer of knowledge and connection. And it is something priceless and valuable. I mean, I could have just read all those books about advertising or any online references of media planning, but it never makes sense to me. I had to actually learn it by doing it.

In my case right this time, I am currently not only experiencing my very first workplace after graduation, but also am trying on living in the new environment. New city: Living in Jakarta alone for the first time. Aside from the traffic jam that keeps giving me headache day by day, adjusting myself to surroundings never felt this exciting. With the friendly people around –greet and guided me in between their little free time of the works, I could feel the warmth around this new family of mine. I feel grateful.

Working in beauty industry nowadays and #SocialMediaUse

I used to think makeup is just one thing for women that need to cover their flaws, nothing more beyond that. I used to think we shouldn’t be bothered to talk much about it since beauty comes from the inside, remember? I was like: I bet there will not be much of things to say about makeup other than the variety of its colors and its function to colored the lips and cover the pimples. The thing that I didn’t know back then is, the beauty industry covers a lot of different topics. During the meeting, we always came up with the whole plan of how we promote and create awareness of the product existence to the market in so many ways I could never think of. It never occurred to me at first on how women think red lipstick can brighten their day, until I got involved in the team to create the idea itself and come up with a plan and strategy on how to plant it in the audience mind, by utilizing the social media and the influencers.

The role of social media influencers are so much important for the industry, with their communication to their own audience is so impactful and beneficial. For some of them, especially the makeup artists and the beauticians, I think they have the potential to create their own economy in a world where improving your appearance never seems to hit a recession. Interesting, right? What comes to your mind when you watch those beauty gurus on You Tube? Was it simply just because they look pretty -it entertained you? That’s one enough reason where the makeup and beauty industry fill in that confusing gap and get something out of this phenomenon. Well, this is not breaking news, but I guess not many people out there are aware of this fact, especially when the outcome is: they eventually go to the department store and buy the product.

The beauty field is filled with many chances to meet and work with fascinating people. I can see that from the past month I experiencing working with client and all agencies, most of them that choose a career in beauty come from a creative and artistic background. Makeup, skincare, hair, nails, are all areas that promote the creative process, and sharing my ideas during the meeting with all of them, it really takes my creativity to a whole new level. Or at least I could say that, I get inspired –in so many ways.

I used to judge people that involves within the beauty industry and how insignificant are those things in life. When it actually takes such long time and big efforts to come up with one plan just to launch one single product. It takes more than one creative ways to use the social media as the platform to influence the target audience in the market. As it is bad enough to know that a lot of people nowadays spend most of their days going on Instagram and browsing random things on You Tube, it is a good opportunity for them to do business, even great to advertise themselves with the free platform provided online. This reminds me of the topic of final year project that I did last year, to get to know how young adult female perceive the content of those video blogs. Whether the industry wins the heart of the audience and succeed to make them buy the product, the very important fact is that how media platform becomes a powerful thing to influence and control the decision of the market. Powerful enough to create the perception and control the decision of the market. Again, this is not new information.

In the other words, I learnt social media at this company. I learnt digital marketing and how good I am with ppts + Ms Excel at this company. I learnt how to get work done at this company. And most importantly, I learnt how not to judge a book by its cover here.

So, should I start Vlogging?

After a long day at work I stayed up late into the night pondering the question ‘what would I like to do in life?’ The concept of Key Opinion Leader (KOLs), those who performed online and attracting lots of viewers has been around for a while. It brought my attention since long time ago by seeing those influencers that promoting the best beauty product to the audience. I embraced the idea immediately and since this plan has always been in my bucket list –to be someone that can inspire others, I decided that I want to be an influencer too. One of the near future resolutions this year is one to build my own channel on YouTube. I’ve always wanted to be on the camera and telling story to others, so that people in anywhere and anytime get informed and inspired by the stories that I tell. The other things I need to do before I die is to publish my own book, and to travel around the world and completing my mission to visit all continents.

And evidently, as Indonesian internet advertising market is showing the stronger growth from time to time, I think it is very smart for all of us to actually produce something instead of only consuming, by using the free online platforms to express yourself, creating awareness and positive impact on those potential audiences, and better –to make money out of it. Coz, why not?

#experience #firsttimer #lifeaftergraduation

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logh-icebergs · 7 years

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Episode 16: A New Tide

Fall 796/487. The Battle of Amlitzer Starzone wraps up as a big win for the Empire and a big loss for the Alliance—though not for Yang’s fleet, which is able to escape mostly unscathed. Reinhard decides to punish Bittenfeld for fucking up royally, but Kircheis convinces him not to, much to the sinister Oberstein’s chagrin. Then, twist! The Kaiser dies of a heart attack! There’s no direct male heir, so a bunch of vaguely related randos jockey for position before it’s decided that the throne will be awarded to Frederich IV’s grandson, the five-year-old Erwin Josef II. Over in the Alliance, Yang is appointed Commander of Iserlohn, where he immediately hires all his misfit friends and co-conspirators to help make Iserlohn the best party fortress in the galaxy. Meanwhile, Reinhard and Kircheis touch each other a lot (in the past and in the present), and Reuental and Mittermeyer, unable to go on a date during an actual battle, FaceTime instead. Annerose actually gets to be happy for once.

Reinhard and Kircheis

There is SO MUCH telling body language in this moment: their hands simultaneously reaching for each other, Reinhard’s lingering touch on Kircheis’s shoulder, Kircheis’s tiny head tilt down... It’s unfair that they can’t just kiss onscreen, isn’t it?

It’s been a couple episodes (and at least a few in-universe weeks) since our central couple have been in the same place at the same time, and you’ll recall they parted on complicated terms. But as has been the case in the past, Reinhard and Kircheis are nothing if not good at compartmentalizing. Kircheis may not approve of Reinhard’s Oberstein-inspired methods of late, but that doesn’t stop him from carrying out his orders to the letter and looking forward to a happy reunion. And Reinhard’s concerns about the tension between them at this point seem only to heighten his relief at Kircheis’s safe and successful return home.

Even during this period of uneasiness between the two of them, Kircheis’s mood at the prospect of seeing Reinhard again is unambiguously positive. And very sweet.

Of course, Reinhard’s public display of intimacy with Kircheis upon his return, however restrained, has the sinister Oberstein on edge, which only increases when Kircheis unabashedly follows Reinhard into his private quarters following his harsh reprimand of Bittenfeld.

Mittermeyer clearly also notices Kircheis unsubtly walking after Reinhard, but he minds his own damn business. (That’s kind of Mittermeyer’s thing, as we’ll see much more of later on.)

But luckily for us, Kircheis cares about what Oberstein thinks exactly as much as is warranted (not at all), so he’s about to exercise some special privileges, and we get to watch.

Influential Kircheis

We’ve heard a lot about Kircheis’s ability to influence Reinhard—Annerose has encouraged it; Oberstein has been wary of it—but until now Kircheis has been almost entirely agreeable, even when he doesn’t agree. If he really does have significant sway over Reinhard, it seems like he’s been playing it pretty close to the vest. Actually, it turns out he’s just been saving up his Influence Reinhard Chips to spend on something worthwhile: what he sees as Reinhard’s callous treatment of a subordinate.

Whenever we get glimpses into the inner workings of Reinhard and Kircheis’s relationship, it’s worth an in-depth examination, and the episode 16 Bittenfeld conversation is a doozy, so get comfortable.

After his first request for Reinhard to reconsider his punishment of Bittenfeld is met with indignation, Kircheis abandons that line of inquiry and moves onto something less direct but more uniquely accessible to him: Reinhard’s emotions.

Yes, it’s a conversation about feelings! There are a few things about this whole scene that make it something only Kircheis can do—the setting, the straightforwardness, his eventual successful persuasion of Reinhard to his way of thinking—but the most pronounced is definitely its subject matter. It’s safe to say that, with the probable exception of Annerose, Kircheis is the only person in the entire galaxy who could initiate a conversation about feelings with Reinhard von Lohengramm and live to tell the tale.

The trouble with dating in the workplace: Once Kircheis has made clear the level of intimacy necessary to having this conversation, Reinhard gets annoyed that he’s still using such an official form of address (kakka).

Of course Kircheis being Kircheis, the least formal address he can muster is Reinhard-sama, but here at Icebergs we don’t believe in kinkshaming. Let your freak flag fly, Kircheis!

Kircheis proceeds to perform some highly accurate armchair psychology on Reinhard, and posits that the true object of Reinhard’s anger is not Bittenfeld but (gasp!) Reinhard himself. This, of course, pisses Reinhard off but only because of how true it is, proving yet again that he is among the most relatable characters in LoGH.

Reinhard’s adorably self-contained mini-tantrum, above, fazes Kircheis literally not at all, which I find to be super touching—Kircheis says something that he knows will get under Reinhard’s skin, and then makes it clear that it’s safe for Reinhard to process that emotion openly in his presence. He’ll wait. Also worth noting is that, while Reinhard expresses anger and frustration in public quite frequently (as we’ll see far more of in the future), usually whoever is unlucky enough to be standing near him at the time becomes anything between wary and downright terrified, as can be seen in these moments from episode 15:

It’s to be expected that the random low-level officer above on the left would flinch spectacularly at Reinhard’s, um, amazing line there, but even the pathologically stoic Oberstein is not immune to standing slack-jawed in the presence of Reinhard’s fury. Kircheis, who has been Reinhard’s constant companion for a decade, knows what to expect from Reinhard and is not even a little bit afraid of him. I imagine Reinhard must find that very comforting.

When Kircheis gets to the point of why he followed Reinhard in the first place, he does finally lose his composure a bit—and for Kircheis, as I’ve discussed, a bit of lost composure goes a long way.

Kircheis’s general affect is one of carefully controlled size and strength. This is only the second time we’ve seen him lose his cool, and just like when he did in episode 9 (below), his impassioned movement fills the screen far more than his usual calmness does.

Emotionally unrestrained Kircheis can barely be contained by your TV screen.

Whether it’s his unleashed passion or his reasoning that does it, Kircheis is able to convince Reinhard, and after letting the anger flow through him for a bit, Reinhard calms down enough to admit that Kircheis is right, and he shouldn’t punish Bittenfeld. Reinhard starts to walk away, then turns back to ask Kircheis something, and we are blessed with what is definitely one of the top ten softest moments in all of LoGH:

Soft-eyes Reinhard is a gift among gifts, we are not worthy. This exchange is just so sweet and pure, I love these two boys.

Supportive Kircheis

Episode 16 is All About Kircheis... with respect to his relationship with Reinhard, of course. We’ve already seen how Kircheis is able to exercise his much-talked-about Influence Over Reinhard, and now it’s time to delve deeper into another aspect of their dynamic: Kircheis as emotional protector.

Given the toll Kaiser Friedrich IV has taken on Reinhard’s life, you might expect for him to be happy when the Kaiser suddenly drops dead of a heart attack, but this is Reinhard, so you’d be wrong. Instead, Reinhard is profoundly frustrated that he doesn’t get to deliver some kind of appropriately cruel killing blow himself against the man who bought Annerose ten years ago. Kircheis, too, is frustrated, but for a different reason.

Kircheis’s nod here is ambiguous: At first glance he obviously agrees with Reinhard because of Annerose’s mistreatment at the hands of the late Kaiser. But his feelings are more complicated that that because, as always, he filters them through his feelings for Reinhard.

In response to Reinhard’s angry musings, Kircheis has a brief but frankly kind of incredible memory in which he fails the Reinhard-Bechdel Test so dramatically that I again feel kind of awful for intruding on what are clearly very private thoughts. Kircheis’s memory fills in an apparent blank in the episode 4 flashback, and is below basically in its entirety:

Contextually, it would make sense for Kircheis to be remembering the 15-year-old Annerose being taken away to become the Kaiser’s concubine—it’s what Reinhard was just talking about, after all. But Annerose only gets just enough screen time to confirm that yes, she’s the one in the car that Reinhard and Kircheis are chasing after.

Instead, both the camera and Kircheis are focused on how devastated Reinhard is. Kircheis doesn’t flash back to losing Annerose—he remembers supporting Reinhard (physically, even!) through the trauma of him losing Annerose. Of course Kircheis is angry at the Kaiser for what he did to Annerose: Annerose was basically family for the short time that they were neighbors, and besides, it was a really objectively fucked up thing that happened to her. But the emotion that shows on his face when Reinhard bemoans his missed chance to personally murder the Kaiser is not about Annerose; it is, as always, about Reinhard.

And when Kircheis accompanies Reinhard to his long-awaited reunion with Annerose, the camera again tells us what we already know: Kircheis’s emotions, conveyed via a close-up of his tear-filled eyes, are in response to Reinhard finally getting his sister back.

Iserlohn, assemble!

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the galaxy, people are actually having fun instead of being sad, angry, and vengeful. We’ll learn a LOT more about the ins and outs of life on Alliance-occupied Iserlohn, but suffice it to say that I (Elizabeth) want to live there, and specifically if anyone can figure out some way for me to go drinking at a gay bar with Dusty, I would ask that you please let me know.

Anyway, newly-minted Admiral Yang is now officially in charge of Iserlohn, so it falls to him to appoint all the usual suspects to important positions under his command—Dusty, Schenkopp, Frederica, and of course Poplan and Konev all get special mention.

Work it, Poplan!

Earlier in the episode, we see Yang and the, uh, gang seeing Cazellnu off at the airport—despite it not actually being his fault, he’s been banished to a remote frontier planet as punishment for the Alliance falling victim to Reinhard’s aggressive starvation tactic back in episodes 13 and 14—and Yang takes the opportunity to casually ask his friends to work for him in an official capacity when they get to Iserlohn.

We also see some great (as usual) Alliance streetwear, as well as Cazellnu’s wife, Hortence, who has finally blessed us with her presence. Rebecca is sure to talk more about her in the future. Possibly more than is strictly necessary.

There’s a nice little bit of exposition in the background of this scene that’s conveyed, like so much else in LoGH, through facial expressions: Listening to Yang start to fill out the roster of people he’s taking to Iserlohn, Julian’s face betrays his fear that he might not be among them.

This isn’t the last time Julian telegraphs his emotions to the viewer without saying anything, so make sure to keep a close eye on his expressions, especially when the camera makes a big point of it like it does here.

This potential drama is resolved off-screen, but seeing the worry on Julian’s face at the airport makes the reveal that he did get to come along after all a really sweet moment.

Julian and Gensui are ready to be photographed for the Winter 796 Sears Christmas Catalog cover.

Stray Tidbits

What the hell kind of anime bullshit is going on in Phezzan?? I neither know nor care.

These buildings look like they were designed by Dr. Seuss.

Two things: First of all, I love that Reuental and Mittermeyer check in with each other after a battle. We don't see anyone else do this for non-essential reasons, and it's adorable. Second of all, the loop on this gif cracks me up. Mittermeyer is 5+ inches shorter than Reuental; you can't just copy and paste their chairs!

So did Mittermeyer get a tiny chair in order to make him look Reuental's height, or did Reuental get a huge chair to make himself look small? Future historians can only guess.

#Legend of Galactic Heroes #Legend of the Galactic Heroes #author: Elizabeth #Empire #Alliance #Reinhard #Kircheis #holding hands #Iserlohn #Julian

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the-revisionist · 8 years

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The Tristan Chord, chapter 15

[Edited to fix typos, thank you @farminglesbian, and to change a musical selection that came to me out of the blue.]

xv. the book of miracles

The tragedy isn’t that love doesn’t last. The tragedy is the love that lasts. —Shirley Hazzard, The Transit of Venus

“High fructose corn syrup.”

The phrase, dropped like a gauntlet at dinner, brings idle conversation to a halt. It is spoken by Lawrence, who points in a very melodramatic j’accuse fashion at Flora.

In turn, Flora blinks at him slowly, decides he’s playing at something, and giggles.

Why do I not have normal children? Caroline wonders. One is terrified of Latin and cries at soppy commercials on telly, the other apparently hears voices and is seriously considering going to clown school. The jury, however, is still out on Flora. Please be normal, she silently begs the child. If I screw you up somehow, I won’t be able to bear it. Meanwhile the others assembled around the table—Alan, Celia, and Greg—stare at her, awaiting a Solomon-like proclamation on Lawrence’s bizarre declaration.

Caroline makes them wait. She gulps wine, girds her loins, and unfurls a mighty sigh. “What are you on about?” she asks Lawrence.

“She said it.” Lawrence wags his finger at his sister. “The other day. Quite clearly, I might add. At breakfast, I swear she was looking right at the cornflakes box—”

Greg gasps. “You didn’t let her eat any of those, did you?”

“What? No.” Irritated at the interruption, Lawrence screws up his face in a profoundly unattractive fashion, the expression on a scatological scale somewhere in the not-so-vast plane between taking a shit and actually smelling one.

“Good,” Greg says, “because they do have high fructose corn syrup in them. Corn flakes are the devil.”

God, I am going to be completely pissed before this night is over if this keeps up, Caroline thinks as she polishes off her second glass of wine. “Can I quote you on that?”

“That’s not the point,” Lawrence says. “The point is, like, totally out of the blue, she just says ‘high fructose corn syrup.’ Just like that. And I was like, ‘What did you say?’ And she looked all smug and wouldn’t say anything else! Not a single word. And she won’t say it now. She just won’t. I’ve been trying all day to get her to say it.”

Bright with paternal enthusiasm, Greg gives it a go: “Flora. Sweetheart. Say, ‘high fructose corn syrup!’”

Celia pinches her brow.

Thoughtfully Flora regards her dinner plate. She positions several tiny pieces of broccoli upright on their stalks near a mound of uneaten casserole, creating a little mini-forest surrounding a hilly terrain. Caroline interprets this as a potential clue to a future occupation: Maybe she will become a naturalist. Or an urban planner. Or a demented celebrity chef.

“See? Nothing. She’s gaslighting me,” Lawrence says.

“Very significant achievement for two years old,” Alan observes. His mobile pings and he pulls it out of his pocket.

Celia glares at him. “Don’t look at it.”

“Just a peek.”

“I said don’t look at it.”

“I’m looking at it.”

“Don’t look at it.”

“I have to!” Alan protests.

“It’s dinnertime. You’re being very rude.”

“You know I have to,” he repeats. “Could be urgent.”

“They’re fine. The worst is over, that’s what the weather service says.”

“It’s still raining,” Alan says plaintively.

It’s been raining for a week, and as a result the valley is flooded. Well, Halifax is flooded; as for Harrogate, Caroline cannot help but summon words of wisdom from Gillian’s own personal saint, Morrissey: the rain falls hard on a humdrum town. It’s not exactly flooding of biblical proportions all around, as a rather hysterical local weatherman had decreed, but bad enough that Gillian’s farm and sheep have felt the effects: washed-out roads, power out, ruined hay, sheep driven to higher ground, and bad enough that Raff has been bunkered at the farm alone with his mother for three days and serving as the reluctant point person in keeping everyone else informed via increasingly irate and desperate texts to his grandfather.

“Well?” Celia prompts. “What does our Raff say?”

Alan squints at the mobile and enunciates slowly: “‘Is matricide a crime?’”

Lawrence gives his mother an inscrutable look. Caroline glares back in a manner that, she hopes, conveys that she will not be very easy to kill. Which he should certainly be aware of by now. He sulks and resumes surveillance of his sister, who tosses a piece of broccoli in his direction; whether it’s a peace offering or a come at me bro challenge cannot be discerned.

“Oh, dear,” murmurs Celia.

“Also, they’re almost out of toilet paper!” Alan places the mobile on the table. “That settles it. I think I should go out there.”

“But the roads may be bad, love.”

“Roads are fine now, rain should stop tomorrow.”

Celia’s eyes narrow. “Thought you said Gillian isn’t convinced the rain will stop.”

“Well—”

“‘She knows rain,’ you said. You always make her sound like she’s some sort of bloody American Indian, out on the prairie doing a rain dance.”

“There’s a mental image,” Caroline says. She starts clearing the table.

Alan frowns. “Harry will come with. If I ask, he will. We’d be all right, together. I just want to know they’re all right, want to see with my own two eyes.”

“Why don’t you sleep on it?”

“‘Sleep on it,’” Alan grumbles. “You’re just hoping I’ll forget.”

“Yes, dear, I am.”

In the kitchen Caroline stacks plates on the counter and grabs a casserole dish to scrape out before putting it in the dishwasher. As she turns around she finds her mother has magically materialized before her with the shocking stealth of a malevolent, enchanted garden gnome; rearing back to avoid certain collision, the contents of the dish—mixed remnants of noodles, various vegetables, and crumbly tofu in some kind of peanut sauce that Greg said was inspired by West African cuisine even though Caroline thinks he probably knows as much about West African cuisine as she knows about Renaissance poetry or the inner workings of her Jeep—find themselves gloppily splayed against her chest before gently sliding down her shirt and plopping onto the kitchen floor.

She counts to ten—normally an effective way of tempering her reactions, but in this case with random food gunk clinging to an expensive silk blouse finds herself going full on sacrilegious: “Jesus Fucking Christ!”

Lawrence enters the kitchen and then quickly backpedals out.

“Must you sneak up on people like that?” Caroline shouts.

“Must you swear like that? Gillian really is an awful influence on you.” Celia frowns at the floor. “Now that’s a right mess.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“I’m sorry but I wanted to talk to you alone, while I had the chance,” Celia says in an undertone.

“Well you’ve a captive audience now, so fire away.”

“You need to go to the farm tomorrow.”

Of course, the old woman would ask her to do precisely the one thing she does not want to do. “Why?”

“If you don’t go, Alan will and he’ll drag Harry along, and those two together—good God. If they don’t get stuck in the mud somewhere or lost God knows where while chasing errant sheep, Harry will drink all of Gillian’s wine and you know how she gets about that. In other words, they will drive her right ’round the bend and none of us, ever, will hear the end of it—well, I won’t hear the end of it, because she’ll blame me for not keeping her father put. She said as much to me when the rains started. She actually called me, can you believe it? She never calls me unless someone has a gun to her head. But she told me to keep him here.” Celia pauses to recharge from this breathless petition and plays with her necklace—pearls, a gift from Alan on their first anniversary. “He’s in fine fettle these days but I know, I just know, he will push himself trying to help her if he goes out there now and I don’t want him to risk making himself sick again.”

“I understand, but why me? Why not send—Greg?” As Caroline marvels at the nonsense out of her mouth, Celia seems to seriously ponder it but exactly five seconds later they burst into simultaneous fits of laughter.

“You are really funny sometimes,” Celia chortles.

“I know. Missed my calling.”

“But really, love. It’s not like you’d have to actually do anything strenuous. Just take them some food, you’ve got that leftover origami—

“—orecchiette,” Caroline says.

“—oh, and toilet paper, and just sweep the floors, wash the dishes, say an encouraging word or two and you’ll have done your duty.”

Like a wife, Caroline thinks.

“So will you?”

She sighs. “If you think it will—”

“Ah, wonderful! Thank you, love! You’ll go tomorrow then, will you? I’ll tell Alan right now.” Celia whirls out of the kitchen.

“I didn’t say yes yet,” she shouts at Celia’s retreating form.

Celia cackles triumphantly. “You’re my favorite daughter!”

She stares at the greasy smears on the floor.

The beginning of the flood had arrived at a most inopportune time: immediately after the pub kiss, which had left her fiery-cheeked and dazed on the ride home, quietly holding herself as she stared at pearl drops of light random and fleeting against the panorama of darkness. Twice William asked if she was all right. Later, alone in bed, she touched herself briefly and found no satisfaction in doing so. Bored before I even began, she had thought and then, oh Christ, quoting Morrissey, and finally, dismally she threw herself off the cliff into sleep. She woke to a morning heavily cloaked in rain and fog, the relentless downpour hissing with such persistence that when it briefly let up three days later the air rang with empty glory, not unlike the ripe silence following the violent peal of church bells.

At least Raff will get a good laugh out of seeing her in Wellies; she will actually get use of the pair that she bought years ago at the last threat of flooding. In fact, she is excited to wear the boots because they are a lovely, glossy black that will go smashingly with practically anything. Oh Christ, she sighs, and imagines the women’s mag headline: Dressing for Natural Catastrophe: What to Wear!

The drive to the farm the next afternoon is fraught with detours and muddy roads along a horizon that reminds Caroline of a Rothko: dark gray land and light gray sky cauterized together with a ragged white line across the horizon, the gleaming line absorbing every bit of light that daytime can possibly spare. Splinters of thin, light rain fall against the windshield. In the drive up to the farmhouse the Jeep gets caught in a muddy rut; she manages to back out and then maneuver around it, but the flood-damaged dirt road is bumpier than usual and despite the Jeep’s otherwise excellent shock absorbers Caroline gets a shaky, tediously unsatisfying ride that brings to mind the nadir of her sexual relationship with John.

As she pulls up within sight of the farmhouse she sees that Raff has spotted the Jeep from afar and he awaits her impatiently, bouncing on his heels. She is unprepared for the intensity of his greeting: He throws himself into her arms like a long-lost son or lover. She doubts she will receive a similarly enthusiastic reaction from Gillian; Christ knows you certainly don’t deserve it, she thinks.

“Thank God!” he says. “A normal person.”

“It’s nice to be thought of in that way,” Caroline replies.

“Please tell me you brought—”

“—toilet paper, yes, and pasta, sandwiches, biscuits, salad—”

“None of that healthy stuff for us,” Raff says. “Oooh, look at those fancy Wellies! Very chic, Cazza. You look like a farmer on telly—like you could be on a show about a sheep farmer who solves murders all the time.”

Caroline rolls her eyes in mock exasperation. “So where’s your mum?”

“Out in barn. I find it’s best to keep her out there, away from polite society.”

After they’ve unloaded the Jeep she reluctantly follows Raff out to the barn while he talks of dead sheep, wet hay, and power outages; the sheep were two dumb, young ewes that fell down a ravine, some of the hay might be salvageable but at least half of it might be bad, and the power is back on.

They find Gillian pulling an empty wheelbarrow into the barn. From the knees down her jeans and boots are spackled with mud. Her left elbow looks skinned and the sleeve of the flannel shirt on that arm is torn, and her hair is greasy and pulled back into a ponytail. At the sight of Caroline she drops the wheelbarrow; the clatter echoes and Caroline jumps. Gillian frowns and tugs at her work gloves.

Over the past week Caroline has rehearsed various speeches in her head ranging from the florid to the plainspoken, but all these thoughtful peregrinations made her wish she could simply present Gillian with a Venn diagram of intersecting emotions where each panic-riddled state or practical consideration included Gillian as the common element. Additionally the circular aspect of the diagram alluded rather obviously to Caroline’s typical mental roundabouts on the subject. Even allowing for Raff’s presence, what comes out of her mouth is still light years from either an articulate summation of the current chaos of her mind, or a poetic expression of inchoate desire:

“I come bearing toilet paper,” she says.

As expected she gets Gillian’s flinty look of irritated incomprehension, not unlike the time Greg tried to educate her on the nutritional value of mung beans in refutation of Gillian’s steadfast refusal to eat anything called mung.

“Sometimes you don’t get the hero you want,” Raff says as he claps a hand on Caroline’s shoulder, “but the hero you need.”

Gillian shuffles, stares at the floor. “That’s great.”

“There’s food,” Raff adds. “She’s brought food.”

“Good.” Gillian pretends that peeling off work gloves and tossing them onto a tool bench is an effort requiring both massive strength and supreme concentration.

Resigned to his mother’s surliness, Raff merely shoots her an exasperated look.

Look at me, Caroline thinks, but now Gillian busies herself with wiping dry the handle of some dangerous-looking tool that could easily be used for disembowelment and so she quickly turns her attention back to Raff. “Are you hungry?” she squeaks at him.

“I am, but I was gonna shove off—” He hesitates, fixing a glance on his mother. “—if that’s still all right.”

Gillian nods, digs around in her jeans pocket. In flight, the keys to the Landy flash across the barn.

Raff swipes at the air and catches them. His face softens as he jiggles the keys in his palm. “You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah. I told you it’s all right. So go on already, go see your girls. Come back tomorrow.”

Not content to proffer a mere thank you, Raff strides across the barn and engulfs his mother in a bear hug. Caroline allows herself to be amused at the spectacle of Gillian squirming, looking irritated, then pleased, then smiling, and then berating her son’s manhood: “All right, stop hugging me before you start growing ovaries.”

Would that be such a bad thing? Caroline decides not to say this.

“I love you, man,” Raff drawls oafishly in imitation of an American drunkard.

This makes Gillian chuckle and Caroline experience a brief fit of jealousy. There was a time when she used to make Gillian laugh; was that gone now, did the leaden intensity of this thing between them somehow drain the light from their relationship as the cursed, bloody flooded valley drained the sun from the sky?

She clears her throat and asks, “Is there anything I can do?”

Back to the squinty glare. “Yeah.” Gillian grabs a wide broom. She swaggers in Caroline’s general direction and then effortlessly tosses the broom at Caroline, who manages an awkward catch of it. “Sweep in here. Muck it out a bit.”

Once again irritated at Gillian’s behavior, Raff asks pointedly, “What are you gonna do?”

“Well,” Gillian drawls as she continues walking away from them, “since we’ve got toilet paper, thought I’d celebrate by taking a shit.”

They watch her leave. While she walks down the path to the house she occasionally glares up at the sky, as if daring it to rain more.

Raff shakes his head. “She’s really too much.”

You have no idea, Caroline wants to say. Instead she hugs Raff again before he sprints out to the Land Rover. As he drives away, he waves with frantic, grateful desperation, as if she ceded a place on a lifeboat for him. It’s like Titanic and she is Leonardo DiCaprio, Raff is Kate Winslet, and Gillian is the fucking iceberg. No matter, Caroline smiles bravely in a quintessentially English well chaps we’re doomed fashion while waving listlessly back at Raff and murmuring, “God help me.”

After sweeping the barn Caroline sits gingerly on an ancient stool that should be consigned to the woodpile. The stool wobbles and abruptly she stands. She rubs her back, stares at the large metal tool chest tucked under the tool bench. The red enameled exterior has clearly seen better days; the tool chest’s squat body is covered with dents and dings and dirt. There are five drawers of varying sizes, ranging from the smallest at the top to the largest at the bottom. The largest drawer looks a bit crumpled, as if it had been targeted in Gillian-driven fit of pique; as a result, it does not close properly. Caroline is not certain what compels her—other than sheer nosiness—but she pries open the drawer. It is crammed with books: Both paperbacks and hardcovers, all in varying stages of age and decrepitude. History, poetry, literature. Even a Stephen Hawking book. Philip Larkin. J.B. Priestley. Wallace Stevens. Barbara Tuchman. A book called The Transit of Venus catches her eye—her hope that it is actually about astronomy is immediately dashed by an abstract, pastel cover that indicates it’s a novel or perhaps poetry. Some of the paperbacks are warped with damp, their pages as furbelowed as the skirts of a Victorian matron.

All of these, Gillian’s books–as hidden and damaged as she is.

Caroline knows now that she has misjudged Gillian from day one. Thought she was reckless when in fact she possessed patience borne from a lifetime of denials and disappointments. Thought she was fragile and frail until Caroline discovered the untold muscles and sinew coiled under her skin and the sure and steady grip of her hands. Thought she was an uneducated rube and not a woman who secretly read books in a damp dim barn—probably because she didn’t want her shit husband to find out and knock her upside the head and who does it now simply because it’s a force of habit or is unwilling to admit to anyone that she needs the grace of solitude. Or both. Thought she was incapable of fidelity or love when she would gladly accept the smallest scrap of anything remotely resembling love, including its many seductive duplicities.

Tell me a lie, tell me you love me.

The glinting rain, which had stopped shortly before she arrived, picks up again, deepening the puddles and dips along the rough path that leads to the farmhouse. She imagines Gillian walking this path everyday, through all kinds of weather. Day in, day out. Sun warming her skin, wind stiffening her clothes, rain soaking her bones, snowflakes dusting her hair. Or on days when she’s hungover, or menstruating, or too wired on coffee, or walking with a spring in her step because she had if off with someone she met recently and it was good. Or walking slowly because Eddie has broken her ribs and they’re still mending.

Gillian told her this story while in that strangely lucid state of drunkenness that lent itself to her compulsive confessions: She had been too frightened to go to hospital because they would have asked too many questions, so she spent a fortnight in bed feigning a bout of flu to everyone until finally, with her torso bound up with bandages—the perpetrator himself had gently wrapped her up while crying and saying it will never happen again, I swear to you—and stuffed with as much paracetamol and oxycodone as she could take, she went back to work, doing some light chores every day. The path to the barn every morning was the hardest bit, she had said, like walking a gauntlet and every uneven step sent waves of pain beating against her core; once she got past that, everything seemed easier. A miracle then, a bloody fucking miracle that she did not die, a miracle that the man Celia Dawson reacquainted herself with after so many years was not just a widower but a bereft parent showing them photos of his lost child—a handsome, weary woman with haunted eyes the elusive shade of sky, sea, and earth commingled. There, that’s her, that’s my Gillian.

Caroline riffles the stiff, yellowed pages of The Transit of Venus. As words flutter by she encounters her name in the book several times. There are signs and miracles on this rainy day to be interpreted and treasured in equal measure, and the last one is divination for the disbeliever: She stands here looking at Gillian’s books and know that this, all of this, is heading where it’s heading despite her complete and utter lack of faith.

CHAPTER SOUNDTRACK:

The Smiths:

“There is a Light That Never Goes Out” “William, It Was Really Nothing,”

EDITED TO ADD:

Patricia Barber, “You Don’t Know Me”

Note: The great Shirley Hazzard died recently, so the reference to her novel in this chapter is a hat tip to an extraordinary writer who, I fear, will not be as remembered and revered as she should be.

#are we cool vincent #Caroline x Gillian #the one with the books

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