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icannotreadcursive · 4 years

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So we all know JKR is a moron, and one of the places that shows is in the official Wizarding Schools list. Mostly because there are way too few of them

There are officially 11 of them, and we know 8: 3 in Europe (one of which is in the British Isles), 1 in Russia, 1 in Japan, 1 in Africa, 1 in South America, and 1 in North America. That's a ridiculously tiny number, and almost all of them cover ranges that are ridiculously huge and with such diverse cultures and magical traditions within their range. So let's run through what I consider a sensible distribution of wizarding schools.

Starting with the British Isles, we know we have Hogwarts in Scotland. There would also be one in Ireland—because of the way Irish history has gone, this school likely would have taken a side in the Troubles and therefore be, at least unofficially, either very Catholic or very Protestant. Irish wizarding kids whose families are religiously opposite to the school, or not particularly religious, may then choose to go to Hogwarts instead to avoid conflict. I think there used to beother schools—1 in Wales, and as many as 3 in England, 1 in or near London, and 1 each associated with Cambridge and Oxford universities. The Cambridge and Oxford schools I think would have evolved over time into magic colleges, because I do not believe for a second that there is no such thing as post-secondary wizarding education. The London school can't still exist and have it still make sense that all our Hogwarts friends end up at Hogwarts—if it's a fancy private school, Draco is there not at Hogwarts; if it's a public school Hermione and all the Weasleys are there, not at Hogwarts, and so on. I'm not sure exactly why or when I think it closed, but sometime before the 1990s, probably before the 1950s, Hogwarts absorbed the London school's student pool. The Welsh school I think was a victim of the English destruction of Welsh culture. If it still exists, or has been rebuilt, I think it's very small and teaches at least partially in Welsh.

Moving on to the rest of Europe. We know we have Beauxbatons in France, and I buy that. Then we have Durmstrang, which is allegedly in Scandinavia. “Durmstrang” doesn't sound Scandinavian to me, it sounds German, because it is German. It's obviously derived from the German phrase “Sturm und Drang” which means “storm and stress,” so I feel like Durmstrang must be somewhere that is or has been German-speaking. I'm inclined to put it in Poland in one of the areas that used to be in Prussia, possibly near Danzig. Durmstrang would then serve most everywhere that has ever been part of that which is now Germany, so most of the middle of Europe.

I do think there is also at least 1 school in Scandinavia. And there's going to be 1 in Spain, 1 it Italy—specifically Rome—and 1 in the south-east of Europe, probably Romania or Bulgaria.

That brings us up to a total of 8 major magic schools in Europe, 2 of them in the British Isles, not counting any magic colleges.

You may note I sort of left out most of Eastern Europe. That's because I think there's probably a school somewhere between Moscow, and Minsk in Belarus that serves Eastern Europe and Western Russia. That is still a very large geographical range, but a lot of that area is quite sparsely populated so I think it works out, especially if we expect that there are smaller, more local schools and/or homeschooling coalitions going on. We'll say this is Koldovstoretz, the canon Russian school. But also, Russia is freaking enormous, there's no way there's only one magic school in all of Russia. I think there must be ant least 1 more, out east, but probably there's 2, one out east and one more toward the middle, possibly near Krasnoyarsk.

I'm willing to believe that there is 1 major magic school in Japan, and that's the canon Mahoutokoro School of Magic. That cannot be the only school in Asia.

There has to be 1 in China. Now, despite China's size, I'm actually okay with the idea of there only being 1 major official magic school. China has a long history of centralizing government and education and its vast bureaucracy. I can see there being one school that's been there since, like, the 800s AD. If there is only the one official school, though, there will also be smaller local less prestigious schools, and again homeschooling.

There's definitely at least 1 in India. Mongolia and Kazakhstan are both traditionally nomadic enough that I expect magic is taught much more on a familial, elder-to-child basis without any large centralized schools. I feel like there would be 1 in Korea, because while Korea is relatively small, it is culturally very distinct from both China and Japan and has historically made a point of maintaining that distinction, so I don't think they'd be sending their wizarding kids to either of the neighboring magic schools.

I am going to very conservatively say there's 1 on the Indochinese Peninsula.

That gives us 5 in Asia. With the 8 in Europe and 3 in Russia, we're already at 16 major magic schools.

There's at least 4 in the middle east: 1 in Turkey, 1 in Iran, 1 in Saudi Arabia, and 1 in the vicinity of Israel that focuses on Judaic magic tradition. Exactly where that one is—whether it's within the modern state of Israel or not—is going to depend pretty significantly on how old it is, whether it's born of Jewish cultural revival and reclamation or if it's ancient. It's quite likely there would be more schools than this, it's a large region with longstanding emphasis on education, but let's just go with these 4.

We're at 20 schools.

Africa. Canon gives us Uagadou School of Magic in Uganda. The idea that there is only 1 school to serve the entire African continent is insane. And I don't think there's any way around the fact that it derives from the colonialist and racist idea that Africa and African people are uncivilized and uneducated.

In North Africa, I'm saying there's at least 2: 1 in Morocco, and 1 in Egypt. Because of regional histories, there's definitely 1 in Ethiopia and definitely 1 in Zimbabwe. I expect at least 1 in Western Africa, probably Nigeria. I was thinking that is there's 1 in South Africa (the country specifically, not the region of Southern Africa) there'd be 2, one white one black, because of Apartheid, but on second thought I highly suspect that until quite recently, most or all white wizarding kids in South Africa would have been sent to Durmstrang or Hogwarts, depending on their parents' backgrounds and socialaspirations, so I'm not sure what magic schools there might be in Southern Africa other than the one in Zimbabwe.

This puts us at (a minimum of) 6 schools in Africa, 26 worldwide.

Hopping the Atlantic to North America where it's just as ridiculous to think there's 1 school for the entire damn continent. There's going to be at least 8 in the U.S. alone. An old affluent white one up east that looks a whole lot like its European cousins (that's Ilvermorny), 2 in the south (one that started off whites only, one historically black), 2 in the midwest (again, one white one black), 1 in California, 1 that at least used to be girls only (this one is probably also East Coast), and 1 that focuses on Native magic traditions that's either west/midwest or in or near the Qualla Boundary in North Carolina.

There's at least 3 in Canada: an English speaking one probably east of middle, an English speaking one in the west that probably also gets kids from Alaska, and a French speaking one in Quebec.

I'm thinking another 3 in Mexico and Mesoamerica, one of which was or is closely tied to the school in Spain, and all 3 of which teach different, even conflicting, magical traditions.

We're at 40 schools worldwide.

In South America, we know we have Castelobruxo in Brazil, which allegedly serves all of South America, but that's also stupid, in no small part because Brazil speaks a different language from the entire rest of the continent. So that gives us bare minimun 2 schools: Portuguese speaking Castelobruxo, and another Spanish speaking school. I'm gonna say there's actually 2 Spanish speaking schools, for a total of 3.

Finally, Australia's gotta have 1.

So, using my numbers, which I fully recognize leave out a lot of places and still give most of these schools impractically large ranges, even taking into account home schooling and community-based education, we get 44 Wizarding schools. That's four times the official number.

Like, wtf.

#Harry Potter #meta #harry potter meta #fuck jkr #international wizarding schools #wizarding schools #magic schools #hogwarts #long post

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writingithink · 3 years

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Improbable Multiversal Transcending Temporal Spacetime Event Pairing: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Rated: T Word Count: 7,101 Summary: The best way to show someone you care is to blow up their job ... right? Notes: I'm back! And it's not a Tangled Timelines update (sorry!) But it is something? I've had this in my WIPs for awHILE now, and when I was cleaning my studio the other night I found a planning page for it in a random tote bag and was like ... oh yeah. And the ending just came to me and I love it when that happens. Hopefully there will be another chapter up for Tangled Timelines soon, though!

As always, infinite thanks to my wonderful beta, @hey-there-juliet who is fine with me randomly sending her fics at all hours and with no warning XP

All mistakes are mine, as always.

<<READ IT ON AO3>>

If the other him in the other universe had taken the time to imagine their human life together in a parallel universe, the Doctor doubted he would have pictured this. His imagination, when it came to Rose Tyler, was always quite whimsical. Happiness had made him impractical, really. Because despite all of the drawbacks, all of the reasons he currently loathed himself, the Doctor knew every single reason why the other truly felt like this was the best possible option.

But maybe it wasn’t.

Sometimes, despite it not occurring too often, he was wrong.

They had spent five and a half hours on the beach at Bad Wolf Bay.

(I create myself.)

She had been so upset; said that after everything they’d went through, everything she did to get back, the other him owed her a proper goodbye. She had stopped speaking to him when he told her that, actually, he would never give her a proper goodbye.

And she didn’t let him explain why. Now that he finally could.

Now it had been 57 days since she’d last spoken to him. Since he’d gotten more than a brief glimpse of her with his own eyes. That he’d spent piecing together a picture of what her life had been like here, without him. Such a short time, really, now that it was over (almost over), but yet also some of the worst moments of his entire existence.

It seemed fair that the multiverse would demand just that extra sequence of pain, considering everything he could potentially get in return. What another version of himself could only hope for, bitterly gambling eternities, following their timeline through all of it’s complicated swirls and turns, names weaving around each other, stamping themselves on the structure of creation.

Forever isn’t something that ends.

(How long are you going to stay with me?)

Quite the opposite, actually. And he knew, eventually, she would remember that. Knew it, but didn’t feel it.

The Doctor finally understood what all of the human writers meant about falling in love. Not just the terrifying sensation of the unstoppable freefall, but also the immense pain of crashing into the immovable object at the end of the journey.

They had sat on opposite ends of a Zeppelin. He had gone back to the Tyler Manor with Jackie, and Rose had gone back to her flat. Hoping to see her, talk to her, he had immediately joined Torchwood (once they agreed to his very detailed, highly specific, entirely ironclad contract). Their paths rarely crossed, and when they did it was just tiny, insubstantial moments.

A flash of her at the far end of a hall. Her name in a report (a lot of reports). Snatches of her voice, there one moment and gone the next.

It all made everything hurt so much more, somehow, having her so close but yet further than he could have possibly imagined.

But yet …

His imagination, when it came to Rose Tyler, was still quite whimsical. So when he tried to think of the bigger picture, waxing poetic, alone on his office couch, the Doctor tried to look at the last few years as the impact, and this as the aftershock. Still, philosophical jaunts weren’t exactly a solution to his problem. A temporary solution was moving his office even further away, so that’s what he did.

Plus, he found it kind of fitting, commandeering the inside of Big Ben. UNIT may have it in the prime universe, but in this universe he had the fancy landmark office. Well, office-slash-home (without Rose Tyler, a proper house with doors and things was absolutely unthinkable). Not that it was just about having a private laugh. The gears soothed him, the sound of ticking helped the gnawing emptiness that had filled his mind ever since the TARDIS dematerialized without him in it. The Doctor had thought it was kind of fitting - the closest he could possibly be right now to time.

Not that he wasn’t spending every possible spare moment working on the baby TARDIS, just a tiny piece of coral still, currently sitting in the extended electro-percussive environment chamber. He wondered if, in three years (his best-possible projected timetable), when the new TARDIS would be ready for flight, she would still not be speaking to him.

Incidentally, the emergence of that thought and the start of his supposed ‘self-isolation’ coincided to an alarming degree for how coincidental the two really were. The fact of the matter was, he was busy. Tons of experiments to run, alien equipment to identify, classify (and more often than not remove from Torchwood entirely), a baby TARDIS to tend to, and a backlog of Rose’s mission reports to hack into made spending slightly over three weeks in his tower easy.

The problem was the fact that during that time the Doctor avoided sleeping, barely remembered to eat, and existed on overly sugared tea alone. Not sleeping didn’t put the demons at bay, but at least when he was awake he wasn’t forced to confront the man he never wanted to remember being.

It had been 57 days since Rose Tyler had last spoken to him, and the Doctor detonated a bomb in the abandoned annex Torchwood had scheduled to be demolished and rebuilt.

Then the counter reset to zero.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” she yelled, barging into the top floor lab where he had been checking the readings on the EEPEC.

Everything that he wanted to say to her, and the Doctor was struck mute.

“Whatever plans you think you have, however good of an idea it is, for the good of the planet or, or the galaxy or what, you don’t just go blowing up buildings without a word to anyone! Do you know that everyone else was too scared to come up here and have a word with you, because that highly confidential ridiculous contract you drew up made its way through the gossips and isn’t so classified anymore. Now no one wants to go toe to toe with the man who ‘speaks for the planet’,” Rose growled through the air quotes. “So tell me, Doctor, what genius reason you’ve got for blowing up the Records Annex?”

A slow smile spread across his face.

“It worked.”

“What?”

“Remember ‘run’?” he asked, bouncing away from the baby TARDIS and circling her, picking up his new sonic screwdriver as he did and deadlock sealing the only door off the floor.

“Run?” she frowned as he circled back.

“Run,” he whispered in her ear as he passed, running up a small set of stairs to flip a giant switch that activated the clock-lights outside of their automated timer. Likely no one noticed outside with the sun still out, but it lit up the lab. “Henrik’s basement, Nestene Consciousness, shop window dummies, you and me. How did that night end?” he asked, with a manic grin as he skidded to a stop in front of her.

“Oh, that ‘run’,” Rose breathed, trying to fight back a smile. “You blew up my job.”

“I blew up your job.”

She huffed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes, and crossed her arms. His shoulders fell, exhaustion pressing down onto each and every bone of his new, much more fragile body.

“I just want to talk,” he told her, only a moment away from begging.

“Alright then. Talk.”

Everything he wanted to say to her, and all of it felt disjointed in his overtired mind. Yet she was here now, and if she left he didn’t have a new idea for getting her back again. So he talked.

“I’m sorry. That I made this choice for you, even if it was technically a different me who did it. I’m sorry that this is the best option, the safest option. I’m sorry I never got the chance to explain everything to you before. But I am never going to say goodbye to you, Rose. Never. And I know that the power of words doesn’t translate as well for you, the science of psycho-kinetic-telepathic influence on the elements of creation. But there are some things I can never risk saying aloud. There are some beings that exist, at least in our original universe, that could easily- … still, no matter what universe we’re in, I’m never going to say it. Forever, Rose Tyler. It’s longer than you can comprehend. An eternal silence stretching infinitely ahead, timelines swirling in every direction. This one is ours, if you’ll- if you could just- if you could see in twenty-odd dimensions and focused on individual temporal waveforms, the quantum reality of specific-”

“Doctor!” she shouted when his legs gave out, immediately grabbing hold of him, joining him on the floor.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, but when he moved to get back up she easily held him down. Rose gently manipulated his face, giving him a basic medical check. He couldn’t help but smile a little at how much she had learned while they were away, only to then frown at how hard he imagined it all must have been for her. Floundering, he tried to make a joke. “So, I’m still the Doctor?”

Which went ignored.

“You look like a wreck,” she told him, and it wasn’t new information. The Doctor now made much more frequent trips to the restroom and was well aware of how pale he was, of the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. He had at least been making a disjointed effort to shave, which was another activity that had increased with his meta crisis, and admittedly it had slipped his mind for a couple days.

“It’s not easy, doing this without you,” he admitted. “But if you need more time, I want you to take it. I really am alright. There’s just so much I need to tell you, now that I can.”

“What do you mean, ‘now that you can’?”

“Different universe, firm walls in between. I don’t have to worry about using the wrong words at the wrong time and having cosmic consequences … for a lot of things, not all things. With our timeline in a different dimension and reality back as it should be, at least for the moment, I can tell you all sorts of things. Though the most important one, the one I’m never going to miss an opportunity to say, is that I love you, Rose Tyler. Forever.”

“I love you, too,” she sighed, caressing his cheek for a moment before helping him up. “But I’m still mad at you. Now you need sleep.”

“But I’m not done talking,” the Doctor complained, dragging his feet as she led him over to the sofa in the corner.

“We’ll talk more after you’ve gotten some rest, okay? I promise.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, more horizontal than he remembered being just a moment ago. Something soft and warm ensconced his body. He hadn’t realized how cold he had been until just then.

Another breath and black oblivion overtook him. Peaceful until it suddenly very much wasn’t.

A shockwave. A rift in time and space. A breached void. A crack in reality. A big red button. No more. Howling, howling, howling.

“Wake up!”

His eyes snapped open.

He didn’t know where he was. Nothing felt right; not the air, not time, not even his own body. The Doctor tried to do a quick systems check, and the results were all wrong. His hand flew to his chest, where only one heart was beating.

A choking scream echoed through the space, which seemed to be tick tick ticking, and he didn’t realize that it was him who shouted until soothing hands were brushing through his hair. Vision focusing, he saw Rose Tyler kneeling next to him, or at least it was something that looked like Rose Tyler. She felt too cool. Or maybe he was too warm.

“Are you real?” he asked, hoping that she wouldn’t lie to him.

Just one heart working, and it was beating too fast, refusing to slow down. The air was too thick, he couldn’t breathe.

“Yeah.” A sad smile. “I’m real.”

The Doctor didn’t know if he believed her, closing his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to see the moment she inevitably vanished. “I’m dying,” he told the being-who-might-be-Rose as he shuddered and collapsed back onto some sort of sofa.

“You’re fine,” she lied, but it was a lie she seemed to believe.

“Only got one heart beating,” he admitted, trying to get his breathing under control as his malfunctioning body began to sweat. The room ticked away, and he wondered if all of this was about to explode, if he should be running, if he even could run. His legs felt like lead. So did his arms. The air was too thick, dragging him down.

“That’s-”

The Doctor shut his eyes tighter, tears escaping that he hadn’t even realized were there. She must have vanished, just like he knew she would. And if she was never real to begin with, why did it have to hurt so much for her to go?

A weight rested on top of him, and he would never forget the feel of her. He vaguely wondered what it meant for him, to be having tactile hallucinations. Olfactory hallucinations. Even the buzz of time that had never left her skin after she took in the vortex was present.

“You’ve still got two beating,” Rose whispered as his arms wrapped around her in a tight hold that didn’t feel nearly strong enough to keep her. He wasn’t strong enough to keep her.

Her heart beat steadily over where his right heart had failed.

“I’m scared,” the Doctor admitted, eyes still closed though it was oddly easier to breathe.

“I’ve got you.”

“Please be real,” he whimpered, even as his mind grew foggier.

She said something, but he didn’t know what. Everything was fading away, darkness becoming darker, becoming void.

Nothing.

The Doctor awoke alone on the couch in his office. According to his time sense, he had slept for eighteen hours and twenty-one minutes. He felt better than he had in weeks, but also so much worse. He grabbed his pillow and screamed into it.

“What’s wrong now?”

The pillow dropped from his hands and his eyes locked with Rose’s as she raced up the slight stair onto the platform that separated his primary workspace from the rest of the top floor.

“What?” His voice cracked.

Rose Tyler sat next to him on the couch, hand immediately resting on his forehead, primitively gauging his temperature. The Doctor cleared his throat before trying again.

“Rose, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad, I’m so very, very glad you’ve come.” Her hand dropped away and he was able to get a good look at her, dressed in a pair of his boxers and one of his shirts (Jackie had bought him a ridiculous amount of clothes before he left the manor, all of which he sent out to be cleaned). He swallowed audibly. “W-why are you wearing my clothes?”

“‘M locked in here. Door’s deadlock sealed.”

Flashes of memories began to speed through him. Attaching a re-calibrated Tziklian implosion grenade to a newly-repaired retroreflective Clishtahrr drone. Obsessively trying to circumvent his vision in order to peer at his own timeline, making himself sick. A contained rift event in the lower levels of the tower that made him feel like he had looked into the untempered schism again.

(Run, run, run!)

“I’m sorry. I don’t … I’ll just …”

He pushed himself up onto unsteady legs, found his sonic screwdriver and unsealed the door. And he wished he hadn’t trapped her with him, even if he was starting to remember why (inky black terror crawling up his spine, wrong universe, wrong universe, wrong universe).

“Do you remember what happened yesterday?” she asked, following him as he went to check the TARDIS on autopilot, looking as if she was worried he would collapse (again).

“It’s coming back to me,” the Doctor admitted. Still had a good four hours to go before the shatterfry process would be complete. He straightened his shoulders, trying to stand tall as he turned to face her. “Things got a little, uhm, unpleasant. I’ll do better.”

“Unpleasant,” Rose scoffed. “I’m pretty sure you had a bleedin’ breakdown!”

“It’s been a difficult regeneration,” he deflected, turning away, leaving the platform and making a beeline to the tiny kitchenette tucked off to the side. Tea. He just needed more tea.

“So, this how it’s gonna be, then? All that stuff about wanting to talk, but now you’re just done?”

He nearly spilled the kettle with the speed of his turn, brows furrowed and mouth falling open. “What? Of course I want to talk!” the Doctor exclaimed. “Just, er, what did I say? Before?”

Memory was still a bit of a blur. Successful energy funnel for the TARDIS’ growth tank. Vodka tasting different in a universe without potatoes. Reports saying: Correct universe. Wrong time - past. No contact.

“You don’t remember?”

“I said it was coming back to me, it’s just not coming in the right order.” he sighed, refocusing on the tea.

“Well, what’s the last thing that you vividly remember?” Rose asked, moving around him, easily finding mugs and sugar and milk.

“Thirteen days ago, creating a temporal disruption chrono-field manipulator. Needed to siphon rift energy for our TARDIS. She needs a very specific growth environment.”

“Thirteen days?! Wait, siphoning the-” She leaned against the tiny countertop and covered her face with her hands. The only sound for a few moments was of the electric kettle quickly boiling the water. “Our TARDIS?”

“If you want,” the Doctor muttered, lifting a hand, wanting to touch her, but then thinking better of it. He clenched his fist as it dropped to his side.

Rose groaned as she turned back to him. “Of course I want that, you daft alien git! But you don’t exactly make things easy, do ya? I spent years getting back to you, and then suddenly there’s two of you and one of you abandons me just like I was always afraid of, but one of you stays and I’m expected to be able to process any of it? And then for weeks it’s an effort just to give myself space, knowing that wherever I go you’re so close, part of me wondering why I’m even trying to stay away when all I wanted for ages was to be back with you. Then suddenly you’re gone! I still know where you are, but there isn’t a chance that I’d actually run into you. And I still don’t know what to feel, but coming here yesterday, seeing you … I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so broken.” There were tears in her eyes. His nails dug into his palms with the effort it took not to wrap his arms around her, to wipe them away. “I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault.”

“It’s not. It’s my own fault. You haven’t done a single thing wrong,” he assured her.

“That’s not true and you know it,” she tried to laugh, but it came out watery. “I’ve been an absolute cow. And I still haven’t answered your question. You’d said some things about words being a type of science, and that you could say things here that you couldn’t in the other universe. Like you were paranoid, under surveillance or something? I think you tried to describe how your time sense stuff works, but you almost fainted.”

“Fifty-seven days without you and that’s what I was talking about?” The Doctor grimaced.

The kettle clicked off.

“If it makes you feel better, it was kinda romantic. The stuff about not saying goodbye and forever and blowing up my job.”

“Blowing up your what?!”

“That’s why I had to come here. You blew up the old Records Annex.”

“Riiiiight. That explains the drone bomb. It’s not like they weren’t going to blow it up anyway. Didn’t I help?”

Rose rolled her eyes before moving to fix both their teas. “We’ll get into that later. Right now I don’t even want to talk about us. I wanna know about you, what you’ve been doing these past two months. Because I didn’t even stop to think what this all must be like for you.”

Cuppa in hand, the Doctor led her back to the couch as he tried to think of how best to explain something that he barely understood himself.

“I was created in a two-way human-Time Lord instant biological meta crisis. Hundreds of years as one being, then suddenly two. Exact same mind, almost the exact same body, but different enough that I can barely comprehend existing in it. If you remember, the first forty-eight hours of the regeneration cycle are complicated and dangerous. Barely a few hours into mine I was dropped outside of the prime universe that all Gallifreyans are meant to exist in, cut off from all telepathic contact as the walls of reality continued to sway, slowly falling back into place. It’s been … an adjustment. Sometimes things don’t feel real, even when they are. Sometimes things feel incredibly real, even when they aren’t.”

“You had a nightmare,” Rose told him, placing a hand on his shoulder, thumb rubbing soothing circles through his layers. “I woke you up, tried to help. You didn’t think I was real. You thought you were dying, because you only had one heart.”

He tried to smile, and the action felt painful. “Sounds about right.”

“I’m sorry. If I hadn’t been so selfish-”

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for. I want you to put yourself first.”

“But I can’t stand seeing you in pain like this. What can I do to help?” she asked, a desperation in her eyes that he couldn’t bear.

“You’re already helping,” the Doctor sighed, finally giving in and leaning into her touch, lying his head on her shoulder. It was the closest he’d felt to time since they’d been left on that bloody beach.

Memories were still racing through his head. Energy coils radiating artron energy into a centrifuge. The smell of burnt flesh against the remains of a Bverni navigational system. Reports saying: Correct universe. Wrong time - future. No contact.

“The other Doctor said that you needed me.”

He laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“Yes, because he needs you. He also said that I was dangerous. I am. He is. We are. But you already knew that. It’s easy, you know, to yell at yourself. Not often that there’s actually a separate you there to yell at. I destroyed the Daleks, but we’d already done that before we met. In fact, so did you. The other me was lashing out, knowing what he would have to do but not wanting to do it.”

“That’s another thing,” Rose said, moving to face him, dislodging his head, “you said that us being here, in this universe, was the best, safest option. What was that about?”

“Something’s coming. Has come. Ended and began. There’s a massive paradox surrounding me in the other universe. Incredibly dangerous, potentially catastrophic. All I know is that it has something to do with a woman named River Song who claims to be my wife.”

“Your wife?!”

“I said claims. And she did seem to be telling the truth, besides the fact that what she was saying was entirely preposterous. My soul is entirely bound to yours.” The Doctor took her hand and squeezed it. “So I think I have an idea of the kind of man I’ll have to become in order to keep the universe intact.”

“What’s that?”

“A liar. If she is going to believe that I could possibly join myself to someone else, someone who isn’t you, I’m going to have to lie. I’m going to have to forget. I’m going to have to lie so well and for so long that even I believe the fiction I’ve created for myself.”

He wondered what the other him in the other universe would think, then, whenever he caught a rare glimpse at their timeline surrounded in gold, bound with Rose’s for all eternity. What kind of explanation he would craft. The Doctor shuddered.

“But that sounds horrible!” she cried.

“It’s the sacrifice he’s making for the sake of the universe. My timeline is dangerous and someone, something is tampering with it. You and I made one tiny little paradox and it almost destroyed everything. This one is circular, might be able to be maintained, but the scale of it, Rose. And who knows if it will even work. River seems great and all, at least I hope so, but I don’t think she has much of a handle on time travel. That, or she’s a manipulative psychopath. Suppose that’s a surprise for the other me to find out.”

Rose sniffled and he pulled her into a hug.

“He’s going to be all alone.” The words were muffled into his shoulder, his shirt growing damp with her tears. He cringed and tried to think rationally, that of course she would feel this way, that it had nothing to do with how she felt about him him. But then again, maybe it did.

“He won’t be alone. He’ll find someone. I always do, eventually.”

“B-but I-”

“We’ll figure it out. How to get you back there, once it’s safe,” he whispered into the top of her head. Maybe that would be it- what she needed this him for. And if so, it would be enough. It would have to be enough.

“Really?”

The Doctor nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“So it’s not- you really weren’t abandoning me here?” Rose lifted her head, eyes brimming with a hope that had been missing before.

“Never.” The word felt as if it was torn out of his very being.

She cupped his cheek, stubble beginning to smooth out into the beginnings of a beard. He really needed to shave.

“I thought you said to never say never ever?”

“That was before.”

It occurred to him that he had tea, so he took a sip - it had gone cold.

“Oh, right, all the, uhm, psychic-kinetic-telepathy science stuff.”

He opened his mouth to correct her - she was very close, though - but was interrupted by the ringing of the giant clock. It was heavily muffled by the sound proofing adjustments he had made while setting up the office, but still audible enough.

“It’s eight now, yeah?” Rose asked, even as she moved away.

“Yes.”

She walked over to his desk, where the Doctor now noticed a pile of her folded clothes sat. He frowned when she brought them over to him.

“Do you think you could sonic these clean for me? I’m gonna quick hop into your decontamination shower.”

“Th- there’s a proper shower, it’s two floors down. First left, third right, door marked ‘Security Level Alpha’.”

“What, really?”

“Didn’t want random lab techs using it. Has a retina scan. It’ll let you in.”

Rose laughed, ruffled his hair, and gave him a kiss on the cheek before disappearing to get ready for work. The whole thing left him confused. He went through his list again, checking and double checking to make sure that this all was real . It was, just as it had been all morning.

More memories. Recalibrating the tower’s new sub-basement weapon’s vault. Burnt toast and no more jam left. Reports saying: Correct universe. Wrong time - future. Contact made.

It wasn’t fair that she had spent almost an entire day with him yet he had missed most of it. Still, he sonicked her clothes, as well as his tea. Finished his cuppa, and then had a second before Rose came back from her shower.

“Why’s there no one around?”

“Dangerous radiation leak,” the Doctor shrugged. “I fixed it almost as soon as it happened, but apparently there’s ‘procedures’. How’d you get in?”

She bit her lip, fighting a smile. “Mighta shot a few of your doors,” Rose admitted, picking up an electro-pulse blaster off of a nearby cart. Non-lethal on organic matter. Very effective on fancy doors. “Nobody told me anything about a radiation leak, though.”

“Classified radiation leak.”

“And why’s that?” she scowled, hands on her hips.

“Everything to do with time travel is classified to this office. Bethany is not being very cooperative about putting you down as a liaison-whatever. Please believe me, I wasn’t trying to keep anything a secret.”

“Oh.” Rose glanced over at the EEPEC, absently biting her thumbnail.

The Doctor didn’t know what she was thinking, didn’t know if he should ask. After a moment she disappeared into the loo to change, promising to be back in a tick.

It was a funny multiverse, really, that his reunion with Rose Tyler would be such a stilted thing. That it would be about him and her, but not this him. Acknowledged with a few questions after his health, sure, but that was just polite. She’d always been compassionate, caring for others. Rose didn’t see him as the Doctor. Not the proper one. Sure, she used his name, but it would be easier for her to do that this time around.

He looked just like him.

He was him.

But he wasn’t.

Memories were still coming. Adjustments to Torchwood’s alien tech retrieval protocols. Nutrition shots. Reports reading: Correct universe. Wrong time - past. Contact made.

He went through the list again. Still real.

Unless it wasn’t.

Unless he wasn’t.

What would have stopped the other Doctor from knocking him out and uploading him into a matrix? Giving him a half-life with a programmed Rose Tyler?

The air here felt wrong.

(Wrong universe. Wrong universe. Wrong universe.)

“Doctor!”

(Daleks exploding. “What have you done?!”)

Pressure against his hands. Why was it so dark?

The Doctor opened his eyes to see Rose in front of him, pulling his fingers away from his palms. Oh. He was bleeding. Hadn’t even noticed.

“Sorry, sorry.” He spun away from her in order to grab the first aid kit from his desk.

“What happened?” she asked, vibrating with barely contained panic.

“Nothing, nothing. Things just got jumbled for a second,” he assured her, efficiently cleaning his palms and wrapping them in gauze in a practiced motion.

“How often do you-”

“Hard to say. I’ve been graphing them. Seems to be stress contingent, but generally decreasing. My senses are gradually acclimating to this universe, so I have to hope that once they do, I’ll be fine. Perfect. Molto bene. No inconvenient lapses.”

“Stress? What h- oh.”

He didn’t like the sound of that ‘oh’. The Doctor clenched his jaw before facing her.

“We still haven’t talked about us,” Rose pointed out, approaching him slowly. Like he was a wild animal. Like he would hurt her. “And you … you don’t really remember yesterday still, do you?”

“Not really.”

His hands hurt. His body ached. One heart, and it was beating so quickly that he was sure it would give out.

Rose wrapped her arms around him and he automatically returned the embrace.

“Maybe I should just call in,” she suggested as she pulled away. “We can just take the day?”

“Or don’t and stay anyway,” the Doctor couldn’t help pointing out. “Some bits have come back, and didn’t they send you here?”

She burst into laughter. “Oh my god, they did!”

And it was beyond words, how great it was to hear her laughing again. To see her smiling.

But …

That was wrong.

Rose was upset with him.

Time didn’t feel right.

The air tasted off.

Wrong Universe. Wrong Universe. Wrong Universe.

The Doctor staggered backwards.

His respiratory bypass was malfunctioning. It was like it wasn’t even there. He couldn’t get air into his lungs.

Everything went black.

There was a shot of gold, and then a different kind of black.

“Doctor,” said a whisper in the dark. “The timer went off for the TARDIS. ‘M I supposed to take her out of that thing?”

A TARDIS timer?

TARDIS … timer …

The timer for the extended electro-percussive environment chamber!!!

The Doctor shot up from where he had apparently been lying on the couch and ran over to the EEPEC, swiftly shut it off, removed the tank housing their baby TARDIS, and then poured in the pre-prepared aqueous nutrient solution before inserting the tank into the quasi-dimensional artron chamber (currently set to it’s highest opacity setting).

“Hah!” he exclaimed, punching his fist in the air and itching to switch the chamber’s outside view settings to transparent. He turned to Rose, opened his mouth to ask her, and then paused.

It all came back to him, all of it, not just the jumbled recollections he had been getting earlier. Apparently he had fallen into a healing coma, and it seems to have been just what he needed … but it all truly hadn’t been fair to Rose. Though, to be fair, she was currently smiling like it was Christmas, so-

Christmas. Healing comas.

Huh.

“Shall we switch it to transparent?” the Doctor asked, unable to reign himself in any longer. “It was clear when Benny - quite the coincidence, right? - helped me set it up. This is a quasi-dimensional artron chamber. It’s funnelling in rift energy and centrifuging artron particles, and the end result in that chamber is the specific environment needed to properly grow a TARDIS. Well, along with the chrono-nutritio aqueous habitat. Benny describes looking into it as being similar to taking DMT, which, by the way, is completely inaccurate. It’s exactly like looking into an Eye of Harmony. If it’s malfunctioning, it’s like looking into the untempered schism, which I don’t recommend. But everything’s stable now, we could-”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to look into the vortex?” Rose interrupted, and …

“Right … erm, well ,” he hedged, scratching the back of his neck, “I mean, it isn’t actually the vortex, but you’re probably not completely wrong. Best not risk it.”

Excitement abating, the Doctor slumped against the chamber and at that moment realized that he had been changed into jim jams.

Jim jams. Healing comas.

Huh.

At least these were his own pajamas, and not some ‘friend’ of Jackie’s, though how strange was it that he owned his own pajamas in the first place?

“C’mere,” Rose said, beckoning him back toward the couch, which she was sitting next to, but not on. Not your typical decision, but he had likely taken up all of the space earlier. “I made you some tea.”

It really wasn’t worth it, cataloguing the similarities between this and when he had first regenerated into this body … even though the list did seem to be growing.

“Perfect! Just what I need!” the Doctor smiled as he walked over, taking a seat next to Rose on the floor.

Silence fell as he sipped his tea, and he found himself unsure of what to do or say next. There was too much to say, and he’d certainly done a piss poor job of organizing his thoughts earlier.

“Feeling better?” she asked, after another moment.

Small talk. He could definitely do small talk.

“Mmm yes, very much so.”

“Better enough to talk?”

The Doctor coughed, having swallowed his tea incorrectly (bloody hybrid body, still acting up), before nodding. Rose moved onto the couch and he scrambled to join her.

“So,” she began and paused, face scrunching up in concentration (it was nice to know that he wasn’t the only one who found this whole business incredibly awkward), “I guess … what is it that you actually want? Aside from a working TARDIS, that is.”

His brows furrowed.

Sure, there were plenty of ways he could answer that question and have all of them be true, but he had a feeling that she was looking for a specific type of ‘want’.

Problem was, the Doctor wasn’t quite sure what that was .

“What?” he asked, in lieu of any better things to say (as the runner up response was to ask for some jam, or maybe a banana, or some of the takeaway from the shop down the corner and blimey, he was hungry).

“This whole time, all of it, since you c- since you were- since you stopped just bein’ a hand- ” the Doctor had a list of complaints and corrections that he barely held in “- nobody’s asked what you wanted. The D- the other Doctor chose for both of us, really, and I hadn’t really looked at it that way before. An’ I wanna know. What do you want?”

Removed from the actual experience itself (and therefore not feeling incredibly, deathly ill), visions of the slight peek he’d gotten four days ago of his own timeline played in his head.

The Doctor grabbed Rose’s hand, weaving their fingers together.

“I want this.”

She smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Care to elaborate?” she asked with a slight laugh.

“Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p’. “Because as long as you’re happy, everything else is just- just semantics. I mean, obviously it’s going to be a bit dull until the TARDIS has grown enough for proper travel, but I think we can make do?” At least, he really hoped so. It hadn’t been going swimmingly so far, but the Doctor sincerely hoped that he could chalk all that up to the initial side effects of the meta crisis, compounded by all of the, er … technical difficulties he had run into while constructing the TARDIS’ growth tank. Also, his new hybrid body needed much more maintenance than he was used to, including sleep. Really was rubbish without regular sleep. Such a waste of time.

“So, if I were to suggest you moving into the flat?”

He opened his mouth, intending to immediately agree, but then frowned. The TARDIS was here, after all. And he absolutely could not move her. Not at this stage. Not until she could connect to other dimensions on her own. The Doctor looked over at the quasi-dimensional artron chamber, once again wishing that he could switch it to transparent and watch the process unfold.

“How moved in is moved in?” he asked once he forced himself to turn back toward Rose.

“You’d sleep there, shower there, eat some of your meals. Most of your clothes an’ stuff would be there. Y’know. It’d be where you live. With me. If you want.”

“And that’s what you want?” he double checked, trying not to telegraph his surprise - he must have missed a lot while in a coma, as last he knew they were teetering on the edge of a row.

Rose rolled her eyes, and that was much more in line with where he thought they were at, er, relationship-wise.

“Well, I don’t fancy living in a clocktower office. When I’m done working, I’d like to not still be at work, ta.”

She did make some excellent points … but still, it all implied that they would be staying together. And that was what he wanted, of course it was, but the Doctor still couldn’t help but feel he had missed something crucial despite the fact that he could now remember everything clearly.

“You blew up my job. ”

“I love you, too. But I’m still mad at you.”

“You’ve still got two beating.”

Maybe there wasn’t something to have missed. Human emotions were relatively complex, after all, and there was no rule requiring them to happen in isolation.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asked, realizing as he did that to Rose it was coming from seemingly out of nowhere.

This was confirmed as she blinked, brows furrowing.

“I don’t know. Maybe a little, but …”

“But?” the Doctor repeated, unable to stand the suspense.

“It’s hardly the first time we’ve had a fight, yeah?”

He nodded, unsure of where she was planning on going with this and hoping that he wouldn’t need to begin apologizing for every insensitive thing he’d said or done since they first met. It would take ages.

“Well, we always end up workin’ it out. And we did live together, travelin’ on the TARDIS, whether we had a row or not, so …” Rose shrugged, now examining her fingernails.

Speaking of the TARDIS, though …

“First things first,” the Doctor began, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood up and began pacing, “I want it on record that I would absolutely love to live in a flat with you, with carpets and doors and things. Assuming we’d spend much of our time traveling about, that is.” He turned back toward her, having paced his way back over to the TARDIS’ QDA chamber. “The thing is, it’s … I don’t want you to think that- the TARDIS. She needs me here. This is a critical development period. For the next three to six months, the TARDIS will be growing in the chamber, learning how to connect to and create dimensions. Until she can manage it, I can’t move her and she requires near-constant monitoring. Every hour or two.”

“She’s like a newborn baby,” Rose commented, getting up and joining him at the chamber, where she stroked the side.

“Exactly.”

“Well, I suppose this’ll have to do then,” she reluctantly … agreed? “As long as we’re living in the flat as soon as she’s moveable, mind. The bathroom here is two floors away.”

“It’s a clocktower, Rose! There’s only so much space.” The Doctor scrunched up his face as he said the word.

“Then why’d you pick this place? I know because of the Rift, but doesn’t it stretch further than just the tower?”

“Nope,” he shrugged.

It’s not as though he hadn’t checked.

“Really?”

“Small rift.”

“Yeah,” Rose laughed, “a small rift right under Big Ben.”

The Doctor laughed with her, amazed that he finally could.

Then he frowned.

It was all a little too good to be true.

Was this real?

“Hey.”

He refocused. Rose was right in front of him, their eyes locked.

“You were getting that look in your eyes,” she informed him.

“Look? What look?” the Doctor asked, though he was pretty sure he already knew. Some sort of dazed tell, some sort of glaringly obvious indicator that his grasp on reality was failing him.

“This look you get when you start thinkin’ you’re in the wrong universe.”

Wrong universe, wrong universe, wrong universe.

“Well, I am in the wrong universe,” he couldn’t help but point out.

“Yeah, I know. Me too. But y’know what?”

Rose wrapped her arms around him, and it was almost as if she were his tether, grounding him to this new reality they’d found themselves in.

“It’s better with two.”

#TenToo x Rose #doctor x rose #pairing: rose x doctor #timepetals #fic: improbable multiversal transcending spacetime event #fandom: doctor who #my fic

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haosvteen · 4 years

Text

I Found You | soulmate seventeen series

a/n: this is my first traditionally written imagine i’m posting here, so i hope you like it!! i’m a little bit nervous to post, so please let me know how you like it :)

minghao x reader | soulmate seventeen

~ - fluff

word count: 3.2k

main masterlist

All you could focus on is the ticking of the clock and the tapping of your pencil on the worn-out wooden desk. No matter how hard you tried to tune into your professor’s monotone voice lecturing about string theory, your mind kept wandering elsewhere. Literally anywhere else. At first, you started thinking about why you had to take this class anyway. It didn’t have anything to do with your major, so what was the point? But as soon as that thought came, it went, and you were trying to decide where to get lunch after the unnecessarily long class ended.

Leaning down to your side and reaching into your backpack on the floor, you pulled out a brown leather-bound notebook. Running your fingers over the intricate gold designs adorning the spine, admiring the swirls and flowers, you placed it on your desk and flipped it open. Gliding your pencil across the unlined, seemingly old paper, you wrote “What do I get for lunch? My stomach is about to grumble in class”.

You run a hand through your hair with a sigh and look back up at your professor, once again trying to figure out what he is attempting to explain. One-dimensional strings? Quantum gravity? It meant nothing to you. Thankfully, Hao had been helping you almost every night. Honestly, you felt a little bad because he was trying his hardest to make it simple for you, but the content was essentially impossible to understand. Your brain just doesn’t seem to cooperate when it comes to physics.

Looking back down at the notebook below you, you received a response: “What about that pizza place you like down the street from your apartment?”. Just the thought of the greasy slice of goodness makes your stomach emit an audible grumble, causing several heads near you to turn your way, judgmental looks behind their eyes. After taking a moment to apologetically smile at them and deal with your embarrassment, you jot on the paper, “Hao, you’re a genius how do you always know what I want?”.

Almost as quickly as you finished writing your sentence, you see Hao’s handwriting appear letter by letter on the page. “It’s because I’m your soulmate, duh”. You lean your head on your hand and smile to yourself, noticing the students around you start packing up their books and leaving the room, signaling to you that class had finished.

After closing all of your books and stuffing them in your backpack, you slung a strap on your shoulder and started to make your way out of the classroom. Before you had the opportunity to escape into the hallway, your professor called to you, “Ms. Y/L/N, would you mind seeing me for a moment?”

Slowly turning around, you made your way up to the front of the classroom where he was wiping down the blackboard for the next class. It felt as if you were walking to the gallows due to the tone of his beckoning. “Yes, sir?”, you asked, curious as to what this may be about. Had he noticed you weren’t paying attention? That you were writing in your soulmate journal?

“As you know, final exams are coming up and I am concerned about your final grade in this class. In order to pass, you need to earn at least an 85% or higher on the final,” he nonchalantly said, not even bothering to make eye contact with you as he began to pack up.

You knew that you were not the best at physics, but you did not realize your grade was so low. That you would basically have to eat, sleep, and breathe the subject until the end of the term. “I’m so sorry, is there any extra credit I could possibly do? I’ve been trying my best, it’s just that-“, before you had the opportunity to finish your statement, he had cut you off.

“You haven’t been trying your best, though. Far too often I see you writing away in that notebook of yours and I highly doubt your taking notes.” You didn’t even know what to say in response to that because he was right. You weren’t taking notes. But could you be blamed for wanting to talk with your soulmate? Somewhere along the way since your 16th birthday, you and Hao discovered that you lived in different time zones so there were only certain times of the day you could talk to each other…one of those times just happened to be during this class. If only your professor understood this.

As if the gruff man in front of you read your mind, he continued, “I am assuming that is your soulmate journal?” Silently giving a small nod, you internally cringed for what was to come because based on the raised eyebrow and demeaning glare, it could not be good. “You know all of that’s bullshit right?”. Your jaw slightly dropped because you were not expecting that to come from your professor’s mouth.

“Statistically only 32% of people actually end up with their ‘soulmate’? No one even understands the technology of these journals or where they come from. Researchers haven’t been able to find conclusive evidence of the accuracy of these journals. The odds are higher that you will end up with someone in this class rather than whomever you are speaking to through those pieces of paper. I suggest you keep this in mind for the remainder of the semester,” your professor concluded and hastily marched out of the classroom.

You are dumbfounded. You didn’t know what your professor wanted to see you about, but in no way did you suspect that. Alright, maybe you suspected him addressing you about your poor grade, but that rant? Probably would have been the last thing you guessed. After overcoming the initial shock of the encounter you just were on the receiving end of, you shook your head and finally left the room.

Walking down the street to your favorite pizza place (as Hao suggested), you couldn’t stop thinking about everything your professor said. Was it really true that only 32% of people end up with their soulmate? And now that you thought about it, having someone’s writing showing up in some magical journal you get on your 16th birthday seems a little impractical too.

After taking a seat at the small pizzeria, you took a bite, the cheese stretching, and about to fall off the slice. You wiped your greasy fingers off on a napkin before pulling out your soulmate journal to write to Hao, telling him his suggestion was an excellent choice.

While waiting for his response, you decided to do a little bit more research about the probability of soulmates ending up together. With a simple google search, thousands of articles came up about the illegitimacy of the journals, however, there were equally as many describing the validity of them while recounting people’s personal positive experiences.

After reading article after article, you couldn’t help but question if you would actually end up with Hao. You’d never had to think about it before. Your whole life, you had always been told: “whoever you write to in your soulmate journal is who you will find true love with and be forever happy”. You didn’t have a reason to question it either because you love Hao. Even though you had never seen him, you knew that you love him.

Your parents were connected through the soulmate journal and found each other, so they raised you to believe that the same would happen for you. The difference is that your parents had known each other since they were six years old. It was easier for them. You didn’t even know where Hao was from. You had your guesses considering his timezone, but you really knew nothing else. The journal would erase writing that held personal information (which sounds kind of…magical? but everyone has a notebook in which they can speak to their soulmate, so who’s to judge when that is an aspect of your world). When you first got your journal, you immediately wrote in it, providing your social media handles so your soulmate could find you. However, with every letter you wrote, they disappeared twice as fast.

There were many sleepless nights you complained to your friends about how hard it was because you just wanted to find him. You just wanted to be able to see his face. Hear his voice. Almost everyone you knew found their soulmates easily, but you were what felt like the only one left without your soulmate. Especially one on the other side of the world.

Becoming so wrapped in your thoughts, you picked up your pen again and wrote in the journal, “Hey…have you ever thought that we maybe…won’t end up together?”.

“What do you mean? Of course, we will end up together. We’re soulmates. That’s the whole purpose of this journal,” Minghao responded.

“I know, I know, but my professor just told me some stuff today. It’s stupid and I know I shouldn’t even worry about it, but he said that only 32% of people actually end up with their soulmate,” you explained. Sitting up in your seat, you started to get a little anxious. You know that Hao hated talking about this stuff.

“Y/N, I’ve told you this so many times before. We will find each other. I will find you. Don’t listen to the statistics,”. As you see the words appear on the paper in front of you, you can’t help but think…what if? What if you don’t find each other. Taking a moment to logically think about it, there is really no definitive way to track the other down. It all happens by chance.

As you placed your pen on the paper, about to write back, Hao’s handwriting appeared again. “I don’t want you to worry about this. The universe wants us together. It will find a way.”

With a sigh, you simply responded, “You’re right, I’ll talk to you later” and quickly drew a heart. You closed the journal, hoping it would help the thoughts leave your head, but you couldn’t stop the constant what-ifs running through your mind for the next days.

During that time, you did more research and truly discovered statistically how low the chances are that you will find your soulmate. There are 7.5 billion people in the world, what are the odds you find your person?

Things between you and Hao were never really the same after that.

It started out slowly. You would happen to forget your journal at home when you went out and instead of running back to get it (like you usually would), you didn’t bother. There were days that turned into weeks where you wouldn’t write to Minghao at all. Every so often you would maybe leave a kind message telling him to have a good day, but there were no longer meaningful conversations between you two. You even started seeing other boys. If statistically, you were not going to end up with Minghao, it was okay to start looking elsewhere.

Having been raised on the idea that this person on the other end of the journal is who you will end up with, no ifs, ands, or buts about it, didn’t allow you to experience young love the way many people do. When you turned 16, all of your attention went immediately to Minghao…because you were 100% sure you would end up with him. Now that you knew the small likelihood of that actually happening, you allowed yourself to find happiness. Even if it wasn’t with your soulmate.

Not to say that you forgot about Minghao. You could never forget about Minghao. But no matter how much you wished that it would work between you two, you knew the reality of the situation.

Several years had gone by. You and Minghao would write to each other in your journals sometimes, but never at the same time. Typically, you would write a message every several months to update him about what was going on in your life and he would do the same. Even years later, you still regret leaving him the way you did. You cannot imagine what providing little to no explanation did to him, but you were young. You didn’t know how to handle it.

But now, your life was completely different from those years ago when your best friend was through a journal. You had a career that you loved, amazing and supportive friends…there wasn’t more you could ask for. Except that you still hadn’t found someone. You thought that it would be easier to find a boy to spend your life with, even if it wasn’t Minghao, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Everyone was just looking for people to hook up and have one-night-stands with as they waited to find their soulmate. No one had accepted the reality of the situation as you had. While some might say that you were being pessimistic, you liked to think of it as being logical.

It was 8:54am and you were stumbling all over your apartment in an attempt to get dressed while simultaneously pack your bag for work. You were sure that you set your alarm for 6:30am so you had ample time to prepare and have a relaxing morning before you had to leave to catch your train. The image of the 6:30am alarm on your phone being switched on was ingrained in your mind, you knew you turned it on. Technology works in mysterious ways.

While tugging on the first appropriate shoes you found, you swung open the closet door that contained your sweatshirts that were still appropriate for work. This was your go-to when you were running late and today was definitely one of those days. As you swiftly opened the door, a book fell down from the top shelf. Your soulmate journal.

The panic of the morning immediately halted. It had been years since you had even looked at it. You shoved it away in a random box while moving to this city for your job and you honestly hadn’t thought about it since. While the memories of your conversations with Minghao flooded your mind, you decided to pack it in your bag. Maybe you would write to him while you were on your lunch break.

Grabbing the last of your items, you hurried out the door, trying to make it to the next scheduled train. As you exited your building and began running down the busy sidewalk to the train station, the crisp air whipped against your face. Your nose and ears were numb, but that was the least of your worries.

Your lungs felt like they were on the verge of exploding as you approached the train and saw the double doors sliding closed. “Hey!!! Someone hold the door!!! Please!!!”, you shout breathlessly, hoping to catch the attention of anyone inside the warm transport. To your luck, someone heard you and stuck their hand outside. Little did they know they were saving you from having to wait another 30 minutes for a train.

As you quickened your pace to enter the train, you smiled at the man who held the doors open for you, “Thank you so much, if it weren’t for you I would even more late for work than I am now”.

“No problem,” he said while making his way to a seat. Taking a moment to smooth out your hair, you followed behind him trying to find a place of your own. After looking around, the only one you found available was right across from that same man.

You looked at your watch and couldn’t help but watch the seconds and minutes tick away, making you more and more late for work. Stealing you from your trance, your phone began ringing. Noticing that it was your boss, you couldn’t help but let out a heavy sigh.

Before you had the opportunity to say hello, he was screaming into your ear, “Y/N where are you?! We need you here now!! This is unacceptable behavior.”

“I understand, I apologize. I’m on my way, sir. I will be there as fast as I can,” you responded, trying to keep your cool. After some more several unkind words, your boss hung up the phone. Running your hands over your face, you look up to see the man sitting opposite you, staring at you with wide eyes and a slightly agape mouth. You gave him a small smile and looked away, trying to ignore the look he continued to give you.

“Y/N?” you heard him say.

“Oh, me?” you questioned, to ensure that he was talking to you. Hopefully whatever he has to say won’t take too long because the train was due to stop in three minutes and you had to get off immediately.

He responds with a nod, eyes still as wide as a deer in headlights, “I’m Minghao”.

With that, your expression imitated his. Minghao? As in your Minghao?

“Wait, I don’t understand. You’re here?” you asked because last time you read a message from him in the journal, he hadn’t moved or mentioned traveling. Well…the last time you had touched the journal was years ago.

Minghao quickly moved to rummage in his bag. After a few moments, he pulled out a brown leather-bound notebook…with gold designs on the spine…swirls and flowers.

Before you knew what you were doing, you also began to dig in your bag for your soulmate journal…that happened to fall out of your closet today…that you wouldn’t have opened if your alarm would have gone off…

You immediately opened the old journal for the first time in years. The first words you see are, “I found you”.

Looking up at Hao, tears began to form in your eyes. You hadn’t admitted it to yourself, but it had been so hard without him. It’s like whenever you weren’t with him, everything was so much worse. Even if you only knew each other through the soulmate journal.

The train came to a screeching stop and the people around you began standing and exiting to the station, but you two remained seated. There were some people giving you some strange looks, but they didn’t realize that two people who were meant to be together had finally met. That you and Hao had met.

“I’ve looked everywhere for you,” Hao said as he stood up. “I told you I would find you.”

You couldn’t help yourself, but run up and wrap your arms around him. The arms you wanted to hold you since you were 16. You could finally feel him. Hear his voice. See his face. You could be with him. Not just through pieces of bound paper.

You pulled away from him and looked up into his eyes. Your cheeks were tear-stained, but you couldn’t help it. “We are not a statistic,” Hao softly whispered. His eyes flicked from yours, down to your lips. He moved his hands up to your face, using his thumbs to wipe the tears that won’t stop cascading down your cheeks. He leaned into you slowly, softly pressing his lips to yours.

“I found you,” Hao said so only you could hear, as he leaned his forehead against yours.

He found you.

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lord-tathamet · 3 years

Text

Dinner Plans

A short story almost two years of age, that I once wrote for a university class. Found it again, dusted it off, polished it slightly, but let it retain that little bit of amateurish writing simply to marvel at how far I’ve come with my writing ever since.

Enjoy.

For the fifth time in the last two hours did the man with the moustache and sunglasses look up from his research and look at the face of the clock of the broken church. He scowled beneath the moustache, but forced himself to look at it regardless.

4:18 pm.

They were late, as per usual. He shook his head and focused back on his literature. He made the mental note to have a number of alarm clocks be send to each of them for next time. Flatteringly Photoshopped pictures of the Mexican coast reflected in his sunglasses while his eyes skimmed through the brochure's whimsical descriptions of the rich culture of its indigenous people and beautiful beaches. He skipped through a couple of pages until he found what he was looking for. A decidedly too sharply fined and too pale fingernail stabbed into the page displaying the photograph of an ancient, grey pyramid.

The man sitting behind the shining aluminium table was tall, narrow and sharply dressed: a suit jacket with bloodstone cufflinks, black suit-pants, a clean white shirt only slightly wrinkled and two buttons open. His legs ended in a pair of shiny, pointy shoes. His face was stern and angular, with pronounced cheekbones and a pointed chin. Bushy eyebrows sat above the pair of sunglasses that protected his eyes against the sun, and a long white moustache grew beneath the hooked nose which gave his appearance a certain roguish charm. A wavy mane of grey-white hair surrounded his face and hid the pointed tips of his ears, giving him certain qualities akin to an old lion. It was difficult to clearly guess his age, but anyone briefly passing by and glancing at him would take him for a very spry looking gentleman in his mid-fifties.

Leaning in on his read, the man with the white moustache made a few notes on a small block of paper. The pen he used was black, ornamented with silver filigree and absurdly expensive, as was the ink held within. Next to the note pad stood an untouched and by now cold cup of coffee, its content as pitch-black as a dark winter night and reflecting the bright afternoon sun above. Disgusting in taste and disgustingly cheap in comparison, but he needed the table, and none of the waiters would bother him as long as he had at least one beverage in front of him, as maligned and untouched it was.

Cars rolled by exhuming grey fumes, the nearby fountain shot water into the air and people passed his table. Most of them in casual summer clothes, sundresses and cargo pants and shirts and some of them even with hats to gain some shade. For a moment, the man looked up from his notes and allowed himself a brief indulgence – the eyes behind the sunglasses darted from one healthy neck to another. A small, wolfish smile parted the pale lips and if there had been anyone to pay close attention, they would have gained a brief glance at his very pointed, very sharp and unusually long canines.

“Good afternoon, count.”

The man in the white moustache begrudgingly pulled his eyes away from his current mark – a lovely Turkish woman with streaming black hair that was climbing the stairs around the fountain just a shy dozen feet from his table, close enough for him to smell the sweet mixture of blood and perfume she exhumed – and he turned to the youth that had seated herself opposite of him, soundless and sudden as if she had appeared out of the thin air.

“And to you, countess. You are looking lively as always.”

She seemed young enough to be his granddaughter, though no one within their right mind would have thought to imagine a superficial familiarity between the two. A girl of fourteen years, with a healthy, rosy complexion and flowing, lush dark hair that curled at her shoulders, the sunshine twisting golden shimmers into its waves. Large doe-like eyes that projected innocence and hid a vicious intellect, a petite body that suggested fragility and cloaked the strength to bend iron bars as if they were straws. She was in white, of course she was, a pretty, knee-length dress and a white handbag in her lap and with her hands folded atop of it. The lid of her bag, the man with the moustache noted with a mild amusement, was riddled with numerous, colourful stickers and badges, and around her wrists hung several loops and bands of tiny gemstones like rainbow wreaths.

They were the only change about her since their last meeting.

“Thank you. My sincere apologies, there was an unfortunate delay with the train between Kassel and Hannover.” She shook her head. “More than five centuries since the invention of rail transport and still a simple thing like an open door may stall a train's journey for almost an entire fifteen minutes.”

She nodded at the travel brochure still open in front of him. “Are you already planning your next journey? I thought you would stay in Berlin a little while longer.”

“I am a traveller at heart, milady. Although my beloved home will always be in the heart of Europe, the other continents do possess their own charming allure,” he replied, setting the brochure and note block aside. “And besides, it has been a while since I have last visited the Americas. There must be much exciting game to be hunted there.”

“Always about excitement, is that the reason you wanted us all to meet here of all places?” The countess nudged her chin toward the broken church spire in the background, a disgusted sneer cracking her face. “And mirroring glass everywhere around us. One of these days, your thrill-seeking hunts might cost you your life.”

“How would the youth of your seeming generation say? No risk, no fun.” The count let his eyes wander around the square for a moment. “Where is Laura? The two of you were practically bound at the hip when we last met.”

The young-seeming woman stiffened in her seat. The snarl dissolved into a very neutral, very calm expression that seemed like it was carved from marble. “Laura is... no longer with us.”

A single eyebrow rose, but otherwise the count's face remained unmoved. “Hunters?

“No.” There was a subtle tremble of her lip, the count noted, before she continued: “She could no longer bear it, she told me, moments before she drove the knife through her own neck. She betrayed me, just like the others before her.”

“My condolences.”

She nodded, her face remaining neutral. “It has been over three decades since. I have moved on as best as I could.

“In fact,” she allowed herself a smile,” I happen to have a date just after we met up with our friends.”

“You still insist on fraternizing with your prey?” The count sneered. “Now that is a carelessness that will get you killed one day.”

“Because unlike you, I seek actual companionship?” Her eyes glinted like sharp icicles in the sun. “Because unlike you, I do not wish to to prolong myself in solitude and run afoul like some pack-less dog? Because I want to spend this blasted eternity with someone like myself?”

Blue flashed and briefly turned red. For a moment, the two stared at each other with an intensity not unlike of two big cats, every individual muscle tense and ready to pounce. Then as quickly as the moment came, it passed.

“I did not mean to insult you, milady. Forgive me. I only worry about others of our kind. We are already so very few remaining,” the count sighed.

“Do not kid yourself, count. You care for nobody but yourself,” the countess replied, but she too relaxed in her seat.

The next five minutes they spent in silence. The count returned to his brochure, only briefly looking up to take notes and to send another quick glance up at the clock tower. The young woman had produced a smartphone from her handbag and immersed herself in the screen, brief smiles lighting up her face in between her typing and the brief ping of sent messages.

“Empusa will be here in half an hour,” she said after little while and looked up from the screen. “She is picking up Lamia from the airport and helping her through customs right now.”

“What about Schreck?”

“The sun is still up, remember? He will meet us after dusk.”

“His mutation is as highly fascinating as it is impractical,” the count murmured. “Why didn't they update me about it?”

“We do possess a text chain, you know. I'm surprised you are not part of it, since you are always the one organizing our meetings.”

“I refuse to touch one of those damnable Apps ever since Lestat sent around pictures of his own rectum to everyone.”

“Suit yourself. Why the Americas?”

The count tapped his finger on the table. “The Mexica people of pre-Columbian America possessed fascinating religious rites related to blood sacrifice to honour their gods...I wonder if there might be others of our kind still in their old territory.”

The countess fiddled with her smartphone. “Sometimes, I admit, I envy your ability to travel without restraint. I tried everything, yet I still must return to my family's tomb ever so often.”

“Have you considered moving your tomb in its entirety, stone by stone? There are still many old woods and mountain valleys unmolested by human hand. I am sure the hags you usually travel with would be most grateful for the exercise.”

“I have tried, once, when Laura was still with me.” A twinge of sorrow crept across her face. “I wanted to go far, far away from home and take her with me. But then, my body began to wither, my senses to decay the longer I prolonged returning to my tomb for a night. Laura, too, could not go long without a place to return to. Horse-carriages can only get you so far. And when we tried to move a single stone, what little strength I had left in that moment was about to leave me.”

The count hummed. Then his own phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, swiped across the screen, read the message in silence. A wolfish grin split his face.

“Then you'll be happy to know that I plan on putting an end to these laws that seem to bind us.”

“What to you mean?” The countess leaned forward, an eyebrow arched.

“I planned on surprising all of you when Schreck, Lamia and the others would be gathered with us, but I might just as well reveal it all now,” the count smiled and leaned back, hands tapered together. There was a red gleam to his eyes, behind the sunglasses. “In my studies of the Americas, I came across a new initiate to our little circle – one that shares many of my own tastes and wishes to help others of his kin. Among such, is breaking the accursed bindings placed upon us.”

He extended a pointing finger. “He is currently sitting on the other end of the Breitscheidplatz. The tall man, olive skinned, with the gold rings in his ears.”

The countess followed his direction, narrowed her blue eyes to a glint. “What is his name?”

“The old Mayan people called him Camazotz. And he might very well be one of the first of our kind to walk this earth.”

On the other end of the square, the tall, olive-skinned man with golden rings in both his ears turned his head and nodded at them. His eyes gleamed in a blood-red, and for just a moment, both of the undead nobles could catch a glimpse of his shadow flickering across the wall behind him.

For just a split-second, they saw the shadow of a bat the size of a small house, stretching its wings and enveloping the street within its grasp.

#dracula #vampire #vampires #supernatural #carmilla #nosferatu #fanfiction #?#definitely fanfiction #horror #modern day #my writing #fiction

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tokiro07 · 3 years

Text

I was thinking about Medaka yesterday as I am wont to do, and I realized something

Her Skill, The End, is way more broken than I ever gave it credit for

Consider the fact that she copies Aka’s Five Focus Skill by HEARING about it. This process is described as playing Telephone with other people’s powers, which implies that Medaka can actually customize the exact parameters of powers she gets. This is already somewhat true anyway, as The End’s specific ability is to perfect abilities and techniques, but now she doesn’t even have to have to start with an accurate base and could potentially create new abilities by thinking of them

So what if she were to cross over into other contexts?

In the Dragon Ball world? Medaka could definitely master any given ki technique: Kamehameha, Dodonpa, Destructo Disk, Hellzone Grenade, Special Beam Cannon, FInal Flash, Spirit Bomb. Everyone has ki, it’s just a matter of knowing how to use, Medaka can definitely do it easily. Abilities that are specific to certain races? You’d think she can’t do those cus she doesn’t have the physiology for it, but given that she has witnessed many Skills from Ajimu that allowed her to alter her physiology to match various animals, it’s not hard to imagine Medaka being able to alter her physiology to match aliens, even if she has to create a new Skill for it on the spot. In doing so, she’d have access to Namekian regeneration and asexual reproduction, Majin pliability and absorption, and most importantly, Saiyan transformation. Given that she has perfected versions of both Maguro’s Analysis and Naze’s Remodeling, she could very easily determine the exact biological mechanism of the Super Saiyan form (gathering S-Cells to a specific point at the base of the neck) and then remodel her own cells to have the characteristics of S-Cells. This would probably be especially simple for her because she already basically has her own human equivalent of Super Saiyan in her War, Altered and End God Modes, so she’d probably combine the concepts to create Super God Mode. Even if she can’t do that, it probably wouldn’t matter, because she’d have absolutely no problem learning Ultra Instinct (which is very similar to the perfected form of Auto Pilot that she got from Takachiho) and attaining divine ki to enter a new form that she’d probably call True God Mode (being that she’d be using the literal powers of a god)

How about One Piece? She could definitely learn Haki, and would most certainly have Conqueror’s Haki (”she’s not used to standing in front of others, she’s used to standing above others”, Hitoyoshi, chapter 1), but the much more pressing question is whether or not she could copy Devil Fruit. The short answer is no, but the long answer is that she doesn’t have to. As I said before, all she needs to know is that a power exists in order to copy it, she doesn’t need to have a complete understanding of it. Since Ajimu has an inexhaustible number of abilities, chances are good that any ability that can be used by a Devil Fruit (being made of rubber, turning into a specific animal, etc.) is something that Ajimu is also capable of if she didn’t demonstrate it directly to Medaka, so while Medaka wouldn’t become a Devil Fruit user by interacting with one, she would definitely be able to replicate the abilities of their Devil Fruit without losing her ability to swim

Naruto? Any given jutsu, for sure, and as we established earlier, Kekkei Genkai should be no problem. Not that she’d need to bother with something like the Sharingan, since for all intents and purposes, The End is a perfected Sharingan: not only can she visually break down any technique or ability she sees through Observation and then perfectly replicate it, she also improves it and doesn’t even necessarily need to personally witness it in the first place. The only advantage she’d get from the Sharingan would be unlocking the Mangekyou Sharingan without needing to witness the death of someone close to her, but even then, she’s literally watched Hitoyoshi die twice, so she’s got that covered too

Bleach? She’d need to awaken spiritual sense first, but given that normal people did so just by being around Ichigo for an extended period of time, that’s not too much of a stretch. After that, any given kido or reiryoku technique would be easy enough, but anything beyond that is a bit trickier. I think she could copy the abilities of a Zanpakuto, but she wouldn’t necessarily manifest one just because she’s copied one. That said, if Medaka were to get an Asauchi (a blank Zanpakuto base), she would most likely be able to use the Shikai and Bankai of any Shinigami she faces (even if they don’t have their Bankai yet, I’d imagine), and would possibly be able to use the abilities of Arrancar as well. I’m willing to bet that her Zanpakuto would actually be Asauchi itself, as they are ostensibly considered the “ultimate Zanpakuto” due to their infinite possibilities. Though obviously her mother was never attacked by a Hollow, it’s not hard to imagine Medaka being able to use Fullbring just from being exposed to Hollow reiryoku, which would definitely linger on any Shinigami even in miniscule amounts. I imagine that she’d choose either the flowers from completed suggestions or the Medaka Box itself as her Fullbring, given how much weight they hold for her. Getting a Hollow mask and become a Visored would probably be a simple task too just from understanding how to manipulate reiryoku and knowing what a Hollow is, which in turn would likely allow her to use the specific powers of any Hollow she meets or learns of. Quincy techniques are generally related to specialized equipment, but with enough control of her own reiryoku, she could probably recreate any generic Quincy technique and even Yhwach’s Letters

Shaman King? Same deal as Bleach, she needs to unlock spiritual sense first, but once she has, she would definitely be able to master both Hyoi Gattai and Over Soul in no time, as well as being able to act as a medium like Anna. Now, when using Over Soul, the resulting abilities are based on a number of factors, such as the identity of the spirit in question, the medium channeling said spirit, the imagination of the shaman, and the quality of the spirit. While Medaka could probably make something like O.S. Spirit of Sword with just any spirit and any medium, the Over Soul itself would lose potency by nature of the incompatibility of the shape, the spirit and the medium. Of course, that’s assuming that she’s using any old spirit. We already know that Medaka’s mother Hato, who is of similar monstrous skill to Medaka, was able to manifest herself to Medaka in her inner world, so if Medaka were able to commune with the dead, I think it’s fair to say that she would, without question, enlist Hato as her guardian spirit. With that, all issues of compatibility go out the window; the combination of the two of them with their superhuman abilities would, without doubt, allow Medaka to recreate any Over Soul she wants without difficulty, likely all channeled through something like her signature fan

The only power system I can think of that may pose any semblance of difficulty to Medaka would be Hunter X Hunter’s Nen, but even then, her nature more than makes up for any deficit. Right off the bat, Medaka would be a Specialist capable of at least 100% proficiency in all six Hatsu categories. As demonstrated by Ging copying and extrapolating Leorio’s Emission Hatsu, Medaka could very easily deconstruct and recreate the mechanisms of other Nen user’s Hatsu, but she could not use The End to perfect a Hatsu. Since Hatsu are empowered by their weaknesses and limitations, the act of removing those weaknesses would make a Hatsu less effective. She could potentially add her own limitations to increase their output, which she would probably do anyway, but striking the balance between limitation and impracticality might still prove somewhat difficult for Medaka, especially since most Hatsu are highly personalized. That said, this is only a problem if Medaka constrains herself to using Nen in those contexts; if Medaka wanted to reinterpret a Hatsu as a Skill, there’s very little to stop her from doing so. Kurapika Chain Jail? Chain conjuration Skill + enemy is powerless when bound in chains Skill. No limitations needed. Beyond that, simpler Hatsu would be easy; Reinforcement Hatsu very rarely use limitations because of the nature of how basic Nen manipulation works, Transformation Hatsu just change the characteristics of one’s aura, and Emission just removes Nen from the body, all very simple techniques to recreate. Manipulation and Conjuring would be more difficult, but again can be circumvented through Skill Creation

Even Undead Unluck, where abilities are granted by one’s metaphysical connection to an eldritch manifestation of natural laws, Medaka could again easily just create a Skill to approximate the ability. It’s not like immortality and luck manipulation haven’t been explicitly shown in the context of Medaka Box.

Basically, while it seems like one could say “Medaka is only OP in the context of Medaka Box,” the fact that The End is effectively meant to be “plot armor as a super power” makes it vague enough to be applicable in any given context, circumventing the limitations of other universes. It can easily be extrapolated to be used on the physical, genetic, mental, spiritual, and even magical level, and even if it can’t, all that revelation would do is reveal to Medaka that The End is imperfect and thus needs to be further fine-tuned to perfect itself. The only real limitation on The End is Medaka’s own ability to understand how both it and the target actually work (since she wasn’t able to copy Styles until she learned how to actually use one of her own and has never been shown directly creating a Skill despite the fact that she should be able to with The End or Hanten’s Skill Creation ability)

I guess what I’m really trying to say here is that any “what-if” match up against Medaka is inherently doomed to end either in her favor or a tie at best if the opponent is similarly OP because her character was literally designed to be capable of overcoming anything in a similar vein to heroes like Superman or Goku, and there’s a certain schoolyard joy in knowing that the protagonist of my favorite series can stand shoulder to shoulder with the likes of them

#medaka box #analysis #my theories #long post

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mcs001hercules-blog · 5 years

Text

Ideological Views in Hercules

At the surface level, Disney movies are widely-known around the world for being cute and funny to watch, while also teaching kids many great lessons that are still practiced in society. But many Disney films manifest hegemonic codes and ideologies in a subtle way that result in influencing generations of children to believe in these views because they shape our minds and how we understand the world. These views can be prominently seen in Disney’s Hercules.

The hegemonic code of masculinity can clearly be seen in Hercules. Antonio Gramsci states that:

It is the phase in which previously germinated ideologies become ‘party’, come into confrontation and conflict, until only one of them, or at least a single combination of them, tends to prevail, to gain the upper hand, to propagate itself throughout society – bringing about not only unison of economic and political aims, but also intellectual and moral unity, posing all the questions around which struggle rages not on a corporate but on a ‘universal’ plane, and thus creating the hegemony of a fundamental social group over a series of subordinate groups. (Gramsci, 76)

The group that dominates men are handsome, white, muscular, wealthy, and physically able men. Towards the beginning of the movie, Hercules is seen as a scrawny, sort of geeky, male with the strength of a god which does not match his figure. During the scene in which he is training to become a true hero, Hercules goes from an awkward adolescent, to a very muscular and chiseled man. He starts to form a more physically inferior body type with massive arms and a big chest. Because he looks like this, he is able to attract the female protagonist, Meg. Audiences can see a male contrast between Hercules and his trainer, the satyr, Philoctetes. Phil’s physique is completely opposite to that of Hercules, he is a smaller, older man with a round abdomen and short arms. Phil can also seen chasing and getting rejected by many girls when Hercules finds him. This contrast teaches boys that if they cannot meet the standards of physical appearance similar to that of Hercules, then there are not considered masculine. This view also teaches young girls who they should ideally be attracted to.

Another body image that influences girls minds is Megara, the female protagonist. As she wrings out her wet hair on the rock, Phil tries to flirt with her but is quickly rejected. Hercules realizes that Meg is beautiful when she is glowing by the water. He is in complete awe of her that he ignores Phil and starts to stutter as he talks to her. While Meg walks away, her swaying hips are highly accentuated, along with her tiny waist. Her disproportional and unnatural body type leaves girls thinking that that is what they should look like. She is highly sexualized and is seen as an object of desire. The movie gives young girls an unrealistic vision of a body that does not actually happen in real life. This impacts the way girls will feel about their body when they get older.

In a classic Disney plot, the female ends up getting in trouble while a prince comes to her rescue to save her. While Hercules and Phil are flying they hear a scream and Phil says “sounds like a DID, damsel in distress”, which follows the Disney template of a girl needing to be saved. Megara is first seen being menaced by a centaur, but is then saved by Hercules because of his godly strength. Meg is portrayed as young and vulnerable, needing to be saved by him on several occasions. Being deemed a hero or savior add to the hegemonic idea, that society sees men in a certain way in order to be perceived as masculine. With the personality trait as a savior, also comes independence. A man must be a leader, face terrifying situations, and almost make all the decisions for the women. They must be willing to put their life on the line for a woman. This can be seen when Hercules tries to intervene and Meg tells him to move along, but he continues to try to save her. The example showcases the perception that men should be saving the women and fighting for them because it is the manly thing to do. Henry Giroux explains the theory of public pedagogy is “pop culture has become the primary educational site wherein youth learn about themselves and the world” (Giroux, 253). Children watching Herculeswill have affected views on how men should be treating women. Although impractical, young girls will grow up believing that a man must carry hero-like traits to even be thought of someone they could fall in love with.

Raymond Williams writes that the concept of ideology is "a system of beliefs characteristic of a particular class or group; a system of illusory beliefs – false ideas or false consciousness – which can be contrasted with true or scientific knowledge; the general process of the production of meanings and ideas” (William, 55). In Hercules, all five muses are African-American women whose songs sound like gospel music. Although Disney may have been trying to create diversity in this film, it did not make sense to put African-American women in a movie that was supposed to take place during the ancient Greek times. Because they sang gospel-sounding music, it added to their stereotype, a characteristic to their particular class in Williams terms. This inconspicuously gives children the idea of what African-American women supposedly act.

The movie is filled with implications that are subtly put in by the producers. During the song “I Won’t Say I’m in Love”, the muses encourage Meg to fall in love with Hercules, even though they find him attractive themselves. The way the muses are portrayed, reinforces the oppression women of color face. The movie is teaching children about culture studies, just as Giroux argues. Another example of an implication that influence kids is that babies should come out of wedlock. In the original Greek mythology, Hercules’ is the son of the god Zeus and mortal Alcmena through a love affair. Disney did not add that detail into the movie and altered it so that Hercules was Zeus and Hera’s son. The perception for kids is that parents should be married and love affairs are not favorable.

Disney’sHerculescontains many ideologies and hegemonic codes that suggestively influence young children. Although Disney’s movies are innocent and for entertainment to teach life lessons, they are slowly manipulating a large number of people around the world to believe certain views because of the way characters are portrayed.

Works Cited

Giroux, Henry. “Public Pedagogy and Rodent Politics: Cultural Studies and the Challenge of Disney.” Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies, vol. 2, no. 1, 1999, pp. 253-266.

Gramsci, Antonio. “Hegemony, Intellectuals and the State.” Cultural Theory and Popular Culture: A Reader, ed. John Storey, pp. 75-80. New York: Routledge, 1994[2013].

Williams, Raymond. “Ideology.” Marxism and Literature,pp. 55-71. New York: Oxford University Press, 1977.

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blucmoon · 3 years

Photo

━ ☾ ⊹ ( kim chungha, cis female, she/her ) say hello to KWON YENA, the TWENTY FIVE YEAR OLD that seems to have a lot in her hands with HER job as an ART TEACHER! beyond that, they seemed CREATIVE AND DEDICATED upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of RESERVED AND IMPRACTICAL though. she seems to live in a 2 BEDROOM APARTMENT in SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA. anything else to add? oh, yeah! she’s also A SINGLE MOM OF A FIVE YEAR OLD GIRL!

– basics

full name: kwon yena

goes by: nana

birthdate: feb 02, 1996

age: 25

gender: female

ethnicity: korean

religion: atheist

spoken languages: korean, english.

current living conditions: 2-bedroom apartment on the 18th floor of her building. decent sized and 15 minutes away from the college she works at and a 10 minutes walk from sooah’s elementary school.

occupation: teacher at k-arts in the school of visual arts.

– relationships

father: kwon chanyoung (alive) polite.

mother: kwon kyungmi prev. seo kyungmi (deceased) good terms.

older brother: kwon namhyuk (alive) close, good terms.

aunt: seo hana (alive) really close.

– physical traits

height: 161cm

weight: 50kg

eye color: dark brown

hair color: currently dyed black, long.

tattoos + piercings: has her daughter’s birthdate tattooed in roman numerals on her ribcage, peonies on the left shoulder.

– personality

mbti: infp “the mediator”

moral alignment: true neutral “the undecided”; act naturally, without prejudice or compulsion.

strengths: idealistic, seek and value harmony, open-minded and flexible, very creative, passionate and energetic, dedicated and hard-working, loyal, devoted, sensitive to feelings, caring and interested in others, values close relationships.

weaknesses: too idealistic, too altruistic, impractical, dislikes dealing with data, takes things personally, difficult to get to know, sometimes loses sight of the little things.

yena is a true idealist, always looking for the hint of good even in the worst of people and events. she likes searching for ways to make things better. while she might be perceived as calm, reserved or even shy she has an inner flame and passion. she’s guided by her principles, when deciding to move forwards she will look to honor, beauty, morality and virtue, being led by the purity of her intent, not rewards and punishments. fantasy worlds particularly fascinate yena. she can often drift into deep thought due enjoying contemplating about live overall. she relies more on intuition and is more focused on the big picture though she can be particularly meticulous when it comes to her students’ art or her own.

she places emphasis on personal feelings and her decisions are more influenced by these concerns rather than by objective information. When it comes to making decisions, she likes to keep her options open and tends to delay making them just in case something about a situation changes. she experiences a great depth of feelings but she largely processes these emotions internally. yena has an incredible sense of wonder about the world.

– background

1st momentum

the kwon family was highly renowned in the business world, not only for how perfect the family seemed to be, but also because the head of the family, kwon chanyoung, was an extraordinary business man with a love for charity and helping others as well as other social reasons. he was a firm believer that the moment to change the future was now. yena was the second child in the family, younger than his brother by 3 years. despite the age gap, both kids always enjoyed one another’s company, that and the mischiefs they always managed to pull with their family and friends. yena was a well-behaved kid despite this, following orders most of the time. those rare times she didn’t were due they not making a lot sense or being correct in her own books. since young, she’s always questioned every single thing and wondered out loud the reason to do this or that. her parents always fed her curiosity with the answers she sought, fully knowing that it was better to let that inquisitive spark live than having a girl without her own criteria.

2nd momentum

as they grew up, the siblings became even more inseparable even when they weren’t in the same school or years. as for yena, she started to show her love and talent for arts and her parents enrolled her in a high school with a prestigious art program which allowed her to experiment different mediums and techniques to find out that she was extraordinary when it came to oil painting and sculpting. there she met her first love and dated him for around 2 years before breaking up. high school helped her to get prepared for college life in both, the art department but also in the entrance exam, which she successfully passed and enrolled in the korea national university of arts.

3rd momentum

college. the place where one truly finds themselves. this period in her life made a huge difference in who she was going to become in the future. upon arriving, yena noticed how competitive and extremely ambitious everyone was when it came to their art… which further motivated her to excel in every aspect. soon, yena managed to become a hot topic as someone labelled her as a “freshman prodigy”. her artworks proved to be top quality and exquisite, minimum details and corrections were pointed by her professors, but what marveled everyone the most was how it seemed like the title didn’t get to her head and she always remained humble and kind to anyone who asked her for help. this caught the attention of several guys who wanted to have at least a date with her. at the end of her first year, she started going out with someone from the design department. no one knew how or why it happened, but it did and yena was completely head over heels for the guy. he was kind, polite and liked to go full-on nerd mode when it came to topics that interested him, which was utterly endearing for her and so they dated for around a year and a half before everything changed.

4th momentum

suddenly, at the end of her sophomore year things went downhill. desperation took the form of mascara tears running down her cheeks as the two lines in a cheap pregnancy test, which she got in a haste from a convenience store, confirmed her fears. she was pregnant at the age of 19. yena was well aware that it could potentially change her relationship with her boyfriend and family. still, she decided to keep it a secret until she visited the doctor to confirm the results.

when telling her boyfriend about it, he acted in a way yena never expected him to. he was surprised, to say the least, and didn’t want to believe he was the father as he was always careful to bring protection with him. yena explained that it wasn’t a 100% effectiveness rate… and then he accused her for cheating, claiming that he wouldn’t take responsibility.

heartbroken, yena decided to go home that night to also tell her parents the truth whom were extremely disappointed. nonetheless supported her when she decided to keep the baby. their relationship, though, wasn’t the same as it used to be. her father was cold and drew a line yena knew she’d never be able to cross and her mother constantly looked at her with what she recognized as pity and disappointment.

not being able to take it anymore, she decided to move with her aunt, who completely understood the situation as it was similar to what she went through years ago. her parents didn’t stop her and other than paying for her college, only because it was something they didn’t want her to leave unfinished, they rarely talked ever again. yena was able to finish the following semester but decided to temporarily leave school as her last trimester approached.

5th momentum

in march, her baby was born and she named her sooah. thankfully, both of them were healthy. yena became a single, 20 years old mother. despite her young age, she matured as her baby grew up and became completely devoted to her without dropping school. with the help of her beloved aunt looking after the baby in the mornings, yena picked up her education and managed to finish in time after cramming a whole semester. after that, she decided to get a masters degree so she could become a teacher. all this while taking care of her baby and having a part-time job to support them both. her parents noticing how hard she was working to give sooah a better life, decided to help her for a little bit until she got back on her feet, but it was also because they little sooah won both of their hearts in their very first meeting.

now, at the age of 25, she’s a renowned teacher at her alma mater while sooah is in kindergarten.

– her daughter

full name: kwon sooah

birthdate: 27/03/2016

age: 5

gender: female

personality: sooah is smart, creative, and unconventional. she is also laid-back, disorganised, and non-judgemental. out of chaos comes genius, but due to her lack of organisation she often has trouble applying her energy and finishing projects. she is quiet, reserved, and a thinker. prefers to stay at home rather than go out and make friends. has a rich inner fantasy life and is a fan of science fiction and fantasy. prone to eccentricity. she is polite, compassionate, and thoughtful. goes out of her way to help people, and is sympathetic to the plight of people she has little in common with. does not mind a messy environment. she is quiet and does not make friends easily, but she cares deeply for the friends she does make. she is emotional and anxious. her imagination can work to amplify her fears, because she considers all the ways in which things could go wrong. she is strongly affected by horror films. sooah is hard to get to know as she is shy and sensitive. she naturally prefers to be alone or to have just one or two friends, and her tendency to be anxious and afraid makes her nervousness around people more intense.

#INFO.TXT #YENA.EXE #LOC.SEOUL

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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How Star Trek: Next Generation’s “The Chase” Changed Canon Forever

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What do space heists and archaeology have in common? The answer is one of the most important and bizarrely under-appreciated episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation: Season 6 banger, “The Chase.” Written by future Battlestar Galactica showrunner Ronald D. Moore and Joe Menosky, and directed by Jonathan Frakes, “The Chase” is a perfect example of a late-era TNG episode insofar as the characters all feel super-cozy, and the story has a subtle intensity without resorting to a ton of explosions or violence. At the same time, “The Chase” also offered a Watsonian answer to a question with a seemingly very obvious Doyle-ist answer: Why do Star Trek aliens look the way they do? In “The Chase,” we learn all about the rules of Trek aliens, and along the way, the TNG lore is expanded in other big ways, too.

“The Chase” aired on April 26, 1993, and as such, exists in the interesting time when TNG and DS9 were airing new episodes simultaneously. DS9 had already expanded the canon of Trek by permanently parking itself in the histories of both the Bajorians and the Cardassians, but in doing so, DS9 had also brought another Star Trek plot element back into vogue in a big way: The ancient space mystery! These kinds of stories usually focus on a long-dead alien species that had a profound impact on history and influenced everyone’s basic perception of why things are the way they are. In a sense, the entire first season of Star Trek: Picard falls into this story phylum. In the 1993 DS9 pilot, “The Emissary” — which aired just six months before “The Chase” — we learn the ancient gods of Bajor, the Prophets, are really timeless aliens from another plane of existence. This kind of idea is nearly as old as science fiction itself, but prior to DS9, Star Trek did this all the time. The notion of ancient and influentially alien races pops up in TOS a lot, including references to “the Old Ones,” in “What Are Little Girls Made Of?” and “Catspaw.” There’s also Sargon’s race of energy beings from “Return to Tomorrow,” who low-key take credit for the existence of humanoids. This idea also pops up with “the Preservers” in the episode “The Paradise Syndrome.” Before “The Chase,” TNG had a few episodes like this, too, including “The Last Outpost,” and pivotally, the Season 2 episode “Contagion,” the first time we learn that Picard had previously considered a career in archeology before staying on the career path that led to starship captain.

The notion that Picard has an Indiana Jones-esque tendency embedded in his personality is one of the smarter layers in his character. I love Kirk, but, other than horseback riding and mountain climbing, his hobbies are comparatively kind of generic throughout TOS and the films. (Sulu has more unique hobbies!) One of the reasons the character of Picard is so easy for people to embrace is his multifaceted love of all sorts of stuff that doesn’t have much to do with exploring space. In “The Chase,” we get a character-development metaphor that illustrates this is the ancient artifact called the Kurlan naiskos, a statue with little statues inside of it, representing as Picard says, “the many voices inside the one.” The storytelling lesson? Cool characters work better when there’s contradictory stuff inside of them.

It’s also helpful when those “many voices” can create cool stories. In High Fidelity, John Cusak’s Rob Gordon explains character development like this: “What really matters is what you like, not what you are like… Books, records, films – these things matter!” With Picard, the vastly different interests that feel divergent from his Starfleet persona — hard-boiled noir novels, archaeology — help round him out in a way that you can imagine him as a real person, existing beyond the confines of the TV show. But, prior to “The Chase,” the archaeology thing hadn’t really been explored in any real way. It’s almost like in the final two seasons of TNG, the writers remembered Picard has a cool intellectual superpower called “archaeology.”

After “The Chase,” we get a Season 7 two-parter called “Gambit,” in which Picard goes undercover using his former archeology professor’s name, Galen, to track down—you guessed it—ancient pieces of an alien artifact that could have untold power! The interstellar adventures of Galen Jones never really took off as a TNG spin-off, but again, if you squint, aspects of Star Trek: Picard don’t feel that far off from “The Chase” or “Gambit.” (As post-” Unification” stories, these episodes also double-down on the idea that Picard is personally invested in the history of Romulus and also making peace with the Romulans in general. Thanks, Spock!)

But. The reason why “The Chase” is so important to Star Trek canon isn’t just connected to the ongoing character development of Jean-Luc Picard. Picard’s personal stakes in unlocking an ancient archeology mystery help make the episode move, but the larger revelation of what is going on is slightly cooler. There’s a scene where Picard is describing the four billion-year-old genetic mystery and the camera slowly zooms in on him, really letting you know that this shit is about to get real. It goes like this:

“It’s four billion years old. A computer program from a highly advanced civilization, and it’s hidden in the very fabric of life itself. [SLOW JONATHAN FRAKES ZOOM LENS BEGINS, OMINIOUSLY.] Whatever information this program contains could be the most profound discovery of our time. Or the most dangerous.”

The culmination of “The Chase” is all about various governments trying to unlock the secrets of the genetic computer program to figure out its secrets. This is the Raiders of the Lost Ark stuff. The Klingons think it’s a giant weapon. The Cardassians think it’s an unlimited power supply. Belloq thinks it’s a radio for talking to God, even though nobody invited him. Even the Romulans are in on it, wanting to obtain this four billion-year-old puzzle for themselves. In the end, the big revelation is that all the “humanoid” bipedal species we’ve seen throughout Star Trek were created intentionally by an even more ancient set of humanoids. This tap-dance with real science doesn’t contradict evolution per se, but in the ancient message the ancient humanoid woman says: “Our scientists seeded the primordial oceans of many worlds, where life was in its infancy. The seed codes directed your evolution toward a physical form resembling ours.”

Star Trek Villains Who Actually Had a Point

By Ryan Britt

Why Star Trek Needs More Characters Like Captain Lorca

By Lacy Baugher

So, the TLDR is that in the Trek universe, we evolved naturally, but only because we were given a push. This is as close the Trek canon will come to the notion of panspermia, the real-life theory that organic life could have been intentionally seeded on Earth. But, Trek alum Ronald D. Moore would revisit this idea in a big way in his famous reboot of Battlestar Galactica. This has all happened before and it will all happen again… sometimes, in a different franchise.

So what’s the big deal with the revelation that all the humanoid alien species share a common ancestor? Well, the knee-jerk answer is that this episode provided bandaid on the slightly unrealistic notion that most aliens in Star Trek just like humans with different foreheads or wrinkled noses or funny ears. And that’s true, “The Chase” does provide a Watsonian answer for why the Star Trek universe looks the way it does, at least when it comes to extraterrestrials. Haters might say this was a bad idea because it called attention to something that doesn’t need explaining, sort of like the Trek version of the midichlorians. But, that negative take misses a slightly larger truth, which debunks an important myth about the foundation of Trek.

The reason why The Original Series mostly tackled aliens who looked like humans in bad make-up is only partially an economic one. Yes, it’s widely impractical to do Hortas and Gorns every week, but in creating the writers’ bible for TOS, Roddenberry also made it clear that humanoid aliens were part of a dramatic choice, not just an economic one. In early pitch documents, Roddenberry describes “the parallel worlds” concept like this: “It means simply that our stories will plant and animals life, plus people, quite similar to that on Earth.”

Roddenberry wasn’t just doing this to save money. The “parallel worlds” concept was clearly something he wanted so the stories would connect with a casual viewer and not just hardcore science fiction fans. Prior to Star Trek, the general perception of filmed science fiction was that it was genre dominated by “Bug-Eyed Monsters.” By introducing the “Parallel worlds” concept, Roddenberry was creating a buffer against the series becoming too much like monster-of-the-week science fiction. Yes, this decision conveniently saved a little bit of money, but it’s very clear that wasn’t the only factor. Even at the beginning, Star Trek wanted to do humanoid aliens not because it was easy, but because telling those stories would be more interesting.

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What Moore and Menosky did with “The Chase,” was to come right out and make that dramatic choice into a thoughtful and exciting episode. The physics and biological science of the Star Trek universe might not exactly line up with our own, but the way in which the various shows prioritize people over technology is a relative constant. In “The Chase,” TNG reminded everyone that Star Trek was always about telling stories about people, even if those people were literally aliens. In this way, “The Chase” didn’t so much as change canon, but rather, clarified it. The reason why the Romulans, Humans, Cardassians look the way they do has an answer. But the real answer to that question requires even more introspection than the episode has time for. Which, in a nutshell, is what a lot of good Trek is supposed to do. “The Chase” is both an overt metaphor and a hardcore in-universe story at the same time. Many voices, inside the one.

Editor’s note: Norman Lloyd, the actor who played Professor Galen in “The Chase” (and inhabited many, many other roles in his long career) passed away earlier this week. You can learn more about his life and career here.

The post How Star Trek: Next Generation’s “The Chase” Changed Canon Forever appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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livinginlandmarketing · 4 years

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Catherine Iveson, 17, a senior at Mater Dei, with her horse Waldo at the Huntington Central Park Equestrian Center in Huntington Beach on Tuesday, November 10, 2020 put her love of riding horses on hold to study for the ACTC. Cat, as her family and friends call her, finally had to travel to New Mexico and Nevada to take the ACT test after the pandemic canceled her plans to take the test locally. (Photo by Leonard Ortiz, Orange County Register/SCNG)

Mater Dei High senior Catherine Iveson approached her college entrance exams with a level of determination and responsibility that would make many parents proud.

The 17-year-old from Costa Mesa put one of her favorite extracurricular activities – competitive riding with her horse Waldo – on hold to focus on taking a weekend prep class for the ACT, one of the most common standardized tests for college admissions.

“It was as much about time as it was about finances,” she said of the decision. “It’s impractical to do both.”

But the trade-off turned out to be just the start of the sacrifices for Iveson and her family amid the first college application season of the pandemic era.

Iveson traveled outside of California not once, but twice, with her parents to take the ACT after the coronavirus pandemic and ensuing shutdown canceled testing opportunities in-state.

She drove with her parents to New Mexico and Nevada, joining other California high school students who journeyed hundreds of miles this fall to take the traditional admission exams – though most private and public colleges have said they are not requiring them because of the pandemic.

“It’s like if you decide you want to run a marathon, and you spent eight months conditioning, and they said, ‘Oh, sorry there’s no marathon’ you be like, ‘No, I want to run the marathon,’”Iveson’s mother, Erin, said of the decision to still find a way to take the exam.

“She still wanted to do it. If you worked really hard to get that number for schools in hopes of acceptance, you really want a chance (to take the test).”

In a response to the pandemic and the physical closures of many high schools, the California State University system and its 23 campuses temporarily suspended SAT or ACT requirements for students applying to be freshmen in the fall of 2021.

The nine-campus University of California system made the same concession, but says students can still submit test scores, which might be used for course placement.

Private universities such as California Baptist in Riverside also temporarily suspended the admission test requirements for its incoming freshmen.

“Due to the circumstances and limited test availability, we didn’t want to have that barrier for students if they weren’t able to get a test,” said Taylor Neece, dean of admissions for Cal Baptist. “I am not aware of any universities in California requiring the SAT or ACT for the fall of 2021.”

But for a variety of the reasons, the quest for high school students to take the exams continues despite the stance of universities and obstacles for the efforts.

A recent morning in Peoria, Ariz. provided a snap shot of this landscape. On Saturday, Nov. 7, the most recent date for SAT testing, about 20 cars with California license plates were spotted in the parking lot at Centennial High, a host site for the exam.

On that same day, more than 200 testing sites in California reported cancellations, according to an online database for College Board, the nonprofit organization that administers the test. The database showed 72 testing sites available in California.

“So many people left the state to take the test,” Erin Iveson said. “So many went to Phoenix. So many went to Utah, Las Vegas.”

Iveson was first scheduled to take the ACT in-state on April 4, just a few weeks after the pandemic physically shuttered schools in mid-March. But the cancellations soon began to arrive, one after another.

“They canceled the April 4 test, they canceled the May test, they canceled the June and the July,” Erin Iveson said.

But Iveson didn’t want her prep class with AR Academics in Newport Beach to be for naught. As she searched online for open test sites, she decided to plug in the zip code of her cousins in New Mexico.

Bingo.

She found an open seat for Sept. 12 in Las Cruces, N.M., about 750 miles from her home in Costa Mesa.

“Every California zip code was either canceled or going to be canceled,” she said.

So Iveson and her mother made the two-day drive to New Mexico (this was well before California issued its travel advisory). Fortunately, they arrived early enough to handle another hurdle. Iveson needed a negative COVID-19 test within 72 hours of the exam.

The duo responded by driving about 50 miles to El Paso, Texas to take a rapid COVID-19 test before heading back to Las Cruces for the classroom exam.

“Just these crazy hurdles,” Iveson said. “They didn’t have tests in Las Cruces that would come back that day in a rapid test.”

For the ACT exam, she said all the students from California were placed in the same room, with social distancing and masks required.

Iveson, who maintains a 4.4 grade-point average, felt she performed well on the ACT, but didn’t quite hit her target score.

A few weeks later, she took the ACT again at a “pop-up site” in Las Vegas. The ACT offers the sites to accommodate students affected by the pandemic.

Iveson made the trek to Las Vegas with her father, Mark, and earned the score she had hoped for.

“After giving up so much to do prep and to really dedicate myself to it, I was not going to stop until I was really satisfied with my score,” she said. “I was happy with my score.”

Iveson’s interest in some highly ranked colleges also fueled her desire to take the ACT. She lists the University of North Carolina, University of Washington and Vanderbilt University among her favorites. She has already been accepted at the University of Arizona.

North Carolina, Washington and Vanderbilt are not requiring SAT or ACT scores, but Iveson didn’t want to leave it to chance.

“The college admission process is already so daunting and it’s so competitive,” she said. “Even though schools are saying that they won’t consider you differently if you don’t take the test, how are you really supposed to know? That’s not a very comforting thing.”

Palos Verdes High senior Maya Whitcomb said she submitted her SAT scores – taken as a sophomore – in her application to Middlebury College in Vermont despite entrance scores – including the SAT subject exam – being optional.

“My scores were pretty strong and I felt representative of what I’m capable of,” said Whitcomb, also a runner in track. “Just another data-point for them. It definitely couldn’t hurt.”

But there are alternatives besides admission exams for students seeking to raise their profile with universities.

At Cal Baptist, for example, Neece said grade-point average and essays are both excellent targets.

“You don’t want to be defined by just a GPA number,” he said. “You’re more than a number, so the essay is really your opportunity to showcase yourself, your talents, your strengths and your fit for the institution.”

The UC application, due Monday, Nov. 30, presents applicants with a series of short-answer questions.

The common application gives students an option to write about how the pandemic has affected them.

Joe Liu, executive director of Sylvan Learning of Irvine, has seen students prioritize the college essay.

He said at least two high school seniors from the center who recently earned $1,400 Wescom scholarships plan to put some of the money toward tutoring to improve their essays.

“They’re using that scholarship money to enhance their college essay and some are using it to help with their classwork (and) to prepare for AP exam,” Liu said. “They’re definitely utilizing that money wisely.”

The Ivesons made some cost-saving steps on their trips. They stayed with family, for example, in New Mexico, but still ended up spending several hundred dollars on hotels and food on their travels.

They also know that not all families can afford such trips, and Iveson said she is grateful for her parents’ support.

“We survived it,” Erin Iveson said. “It’s a lot of extra stress. It’s financial. It’s emotional.”

IE Black Equity Fund launches Black Friday Giving Campaign

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John Aguilar of San Bernardino celebrates his 100th birthday

California Supreme Court refuses to halt San Bernardino civil trial over COVID-19 fears

-on November 27, 2020 at 01:35AM by Dan Albano

#riversidenews

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herethereandeverywheretravels · 6 years

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Ep.8: Coastal Break // MIAMI,  FLORIDA

You’d think with me being in Miami, one of the most stunning places I have visited to date, and also a place with such a lively atmosphere, I would have been up and out bright and early taking it all in. Not this guy though! Instead, I stuck to what had become my routine at this point and hit breakfast up with my laptop.

I spent the morning posting up the final DC blog and tweaking the pictures from it, too. So far on the trip, I had been touching up all the pictures off my phone from each city, but then only using maybe 10% (if that) for pics to post up on the likes of Instagram or in the actual blog. So, I have essentially been spending a lot of time touching up pics that haven’t even been getting used.

After editing all the Washington pics I decided that moving forward I would just edit what I need to use because otherwise, it all gets a bit tedious and time-consuming. When you consider how little time I spend in each location this makes it a very impractical approach.

Anyway, once the pics and what not were done, I began to look at my options for getting to Orlando for Universal Studios.

Turns out that the one day-one park ticket came to $120 in total, and the bus there was an extra $25. Ouch! This was not helping my already overspent budget. Busline specifically do the Orlando - Miami run so I went with them over the usual Megabus, Greyhound, etc. Next up was accommodation. As there were no Hostels around Orlando, I decided to go for Air B&B for the first time in the trip. I found a place a short walk away from the park which came to about $90 for two days in total ($60 for the room plus the usual taxes and crap they drop on you over here.)

With all the admin taken care of, I finally decided to head out. It was around midday at this point so I caught the sun at its peak. I set off south down Ocean Drive this time, toward the base of South Beach. My plan today was to walk to the pier and check it out, head up to Little Havana and then travel over to Bayside Market.

A quick 15-minute stroll through Ocean Drive and South Pointe Park eventually got me to the pier, and from here you could see the whole run of South Beach Coast as it extends North out of sight. I took a few snaps and then decided to walk to a nearby carpark to book an Uber.

The use of an app like Uber is pretty essential if you’re on South Beach and are looking to get about. The problem with the area is that its public transport is pretty poor and it’s also quite slow. Additionally, Miami’s South Beach is pretty boring with the exception of the beach and stores along the front, so if you want to do anything except lounge around, you need to travel off the small island to get there, which, takes a good 10/15 minutes. Miami Uber also offers an option called Uber Express. This is very similar to Uber Pool where other people share your journey for a reduced fee, except that rather than only picking people up on your route, it also picks people up away from your route. This inconvenience comes at a significant discount, however. For example: Say a normal Uber is $15-$20, The Pool would be $10-$12 and the Express would be around $5/$6. It’s a huge saving if you’re using it lots and have the extra 5/10 minutes spare. Another side factor of using it is that it may ask you to walk for a few minutes to meet the driver on their route, as opposed to the usual pick up from wherever you set the marker. Still, I highly rate it!

Ok, I will stop plugging Uber now (at least until they get me on commission!). I ordered the Uber Express but didn’t walk to the marker due to some initial confusion on my part. To cut a long story short, the driver and I spent too long trying to find one another, and the app timed out and canceled the ride. As the driver was leaving a nearby carpark, however, we spotted each other. I spoke to him in person and we agreed to try ordering through the app again. This wasn’t working properly though so I just offered him cash up front. This way, he saved out on having to pay Uber their cut and I could just get to where I wanted nice and quick. I jumped in and he took me to Little Havana. To be perfectly honest, I was a bit shocked at it upon arriving. It just looked like a pretty poor area and didn’t really have anything going on there. Even on its main street, it was bare with the exception of the food stores and restaurants. I didn’t even get out the car in the end. Instead, I said to the driver who had driven me around Little Havana patiently that I would give him some extra dollar to take me to Bayside instead. So we did that!

I should probably note my use of Samsungs translate app (S-translate) during this time too… There are so many first language Spanish speakers in America who struggle with English, especially in Miami, that trying to communicate in English with them is virtually impossible. I found the S-Translate app really helpful for helping with this. You can speak into it or type, and it translates to whatever output language you choose from the system. Naturally, it helped massively with talking to the driver to make sure we were both on the same page. I was lucky that he was a really nice dude and was happy to keep running me around town. I must have been in that Uber 30/40 minutes by the time he had dropped me off and he stayed super friendly start to end. He even allowed the payment total to be up to me. Absolute gent.

Yet, oddly enough, like Little Havana, it was highly recommended online. I do have to note that there is a small Amphitheatre like area there which does host several free shows throughout the day too - I just didn’t happen to be there when one was running. So, if you planned it right you could probably spend a few hours there enjoying yourself. Once I was done walking around taking pictures I decided that I would get a few shopping items and some food while I was by the main city.

After I had arrived, I didn’t end up spending too much time at Bayside Market in the end. There just wasn’t an extensive amount of things to do there really. If you’re not dining at a restaurant, Taking a boat/bus tour or shopping, there isn’t much besides viewing the mariner to do. Yet, oddly enough, like Little Havana, it was highly recommended online. I do have to note that there is a small Amphitheatre like area there which does host several free shows throughout the day too - I just didn’t happen to be there when one was running. So, if you planned it right you could probably spend a few hours there enjoying yourself. Once I was done walking around taking pictures I decided that I would get a few shopping items and some food while I was by the main city.

I wrapped up the errands in an hour and decided that as it was still early in the afternoon I would head back to South Beach and catch some rays on the beach. I called another Uber and made my way back to my hostel. From here, I dropped off the non-essentials and head down to the beach. I must have spent 30 minutes walking up the golden shores covering the whole length of the Ocean Drive section before doubling back on myself and finally settling close to the stretch of sand 5 minutes from my Hostel.

I spent a bit of time tanning here (burning…) before deciding to move further up the beach. I was trying to find somewhere a bit lively to pitch up but there wasn’t anything really going on around 4pm. Just sunbathers and families doing their thing. I spent a bit more time here and decided to make my way back. It was then, getting up for the second time I realised I had burned. I could just feel it all over my shoulders, neck, and for the first time ever, the back of my legs. Even though I had been spraying myself with Factor 30 regularly *sad face*. I seemed to have mostly burned around where my vest was, so I take it that the vest had rubbed it off. up top. My legs I just hadn’t topped up after dipping my legs in the sea so it’s no surprise that they burned.

After getting back from the beach I had a quick shower before attempting to go back out to the shops for some aftersun cream and some snack essentials. It was at this moment I got held up for about 45 minutes at the hostel. A spontaneous thunderstorm hit us from nowhere, so strong that is was blowing chairs around the front porch of the hostel. From blue skies to that in the sake of 20/30 minutes. Mental!

I eventually made it out to the shops though, picked up what I needed and head back to relax at the hostel on my computer.

That was pretty much a wrap!

Fin.

#USA #Miami #florida #travel #traveler #traveling #instatravel #blog #blogger #blogging #welsh #nomad #ontheroad

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daughter-of-the-prophet · 6 years

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Morrigan (Tv Tropes “Origins”)

Absolute Cleavage: Combined nicely with Sideboob.

Abusive Parents: Being raised by Flemeth definitely qualifies. Particularly heartbreaking is the story of how as a young girl she stole a golden mirror, as she had never been given beautiful gifts, only practical ones. She ran back to the Wilds with it held tightly in her hands for fear she would drop it, only for Flemeth to find out and smash it against a wall.

Ambiguous Disorder: Likely due to her upbringing, she displays several signs consistent with Antisocial Personality Disorder.

Animal Motifs: Being a Shapeshifter, this is to be expected.

Shale comments that Morrigan resembles a bird, particularly the way she gazes at people.

And, as noted below, she does have a rather magpie-ish interest in jewelry.

Some have compared her attitude to that of a cat.

Sten knows a viper when he sees one.

Ascend to a Higher Plane of Existence: She passes through an Eluvian to a place that is neither Thedas nor the Fade. It is impossible to know at this time if this is simply another dimension or another Plane of Existence.

Bad Powers, Bad People: The most ruthless and unpleasant of the companions, she starts off with spells tilted toward destroying things and screwing with people’s minds.

Because You Were Nice to Me: Ilona is the first friend Morrigan has ever had in her entire life.

Berserk Button: Morrigan greatly values freedom and hates it when people are imprisoned, such as Sten. Those who willingly submit to imprisonment - such as the Circle of Magi - earn even more of her contempt. Also, as a Vain Sorceress, she has another fear:

Morrigan: "You… do not truly think I look as my mother does, do you?“

Alistair: "Have you really been thinking about that all this time?” Morrigan: "I am simply curious.“ Alistair: "And not insecure in the slightest, I’m sure.”

Morrigan: "I think I look nothing like her.“ Alistair: "I don’t know. Give it a few hundred years and it’ll be a spot-on match.”

Morrigan: "I said that I look nothing like her!“

Alistair: “All right. Got it. Totally different. I see that now”

Black Widow/Death by Sex: She tends to respond to men hitting on her with threats of this sort. Like mother, like daughter.

Broken Bird: Has the detached, cynical personality, the troubled backstory, and the dark Gothic look. This is further reinforced by the mirror story, as well as some of her other dialogue, which suggests that Morrigan is secretly desperate for a connection with the outside world, but she doesn’t know how to go about it after years of Flemeth’s abusive upbringing.

Dark Action Girl: Combined with a Lady of Black Magic.

Dark is Not Evil: Subverted. When Ilona first encounters her, Morrigan muses about whether she’ll immediately assume she’s evil because she’s one of the (legendarily evil) Witches of the Wilds. Once she’s spent a little time on the team, though, she turns out to have a very nasty Darwinist streak and in the end, it turns out that she’s been assigned to help the Wardens solely to perform a dark ritual and capture the soul of the Archdemon for purposes unknown. She gets a little closer to playing this trope straight in the ending of Witch Hunt, given that she’s apparently had enough time to defrost a little further.

Interestingly enough, Morrigan is one of the more innocent and naive characters, having only ventured out of the wilds a few times and never truly interacting with anyone other than Flemeth. Moreover, her beliefs are a result of Flemeth conditioning her to think and act in this way as it is strongly hinted that this would make it easier for Flemeth to take Morrigan’s body.

Deadpan Snarker: She doesn’t get along Alistair really well. Thus their banter is highly snarky.

Defrosting Ice Queen: Throughout the story, Morrigan starts to consider Ilona as a friend to the point where she sees her as the sister she’s never had.

Depending on the Artist: Her facial structure tends to vary between official depictions. Compare this in-game screenshot with these two illustrations. She looks like an older version of her Origins self in Inquisition, which makes perfect sense since ten years have passed.

Deus Sex Machina: Though not used to titillate the audience, for once.

Disappeared Dad: Her biological father is unknown but is heavily implied to have been of Chasind origin, reinforced by the fact that more than one character has pointed out that she resembles a Chasind. Given Flemeth's penchant for killing her lovers, it's unlikely he survived the encounter.

Druid: A bit of a Deconstruction of the type. While not fond of cities, she doesn't go on about it. Though she's clearly a Social Darwinist, she doesn't go out of her way to try to get anyone killed but Flemeth, and that only after she realizes that Flemeth's working on killing her. She's clearly modeled after the D&D druids but doesn't care for such notions as balance.

Eerie Pale-Skinned Brunette: The first half of which is odd, considering she has spent most of her life outdoors.

Even Evil Has Standards: Morrigan immediately expresses disgust that Sten has been caged like an animal in Lothering to serve as darkspawn chow by the "mercy" of the Chantry. Though he did kill innocent people, the story makes it clear that being captured by the darkspawn is one of the most horrible fates imaginable that nobody deserves.

Even Evil Has Loved Ones: Morrigan is not exactly one of the good guys, but while she and Flemeth argue and snipe at each other, it's clear she cares for her mother very much.

Evil Cannot Comprehend Good: The very idea of acting altruistically seems to be both alien and offensive to her for most of her time in the group, presumably due to Flemeth's teachings.

Evil Counterpart: Could be considered this to Wynne.

Femme Fatale:

She has a two-part dialogue with Sten in which they speak about the Qunari act.

Multiple instances where she talks about women only needing to bat their eyelashes to get men to do what they want.

The Friend Nobody Likes: And vice versa. The only people who get along with her to any degree are Zevran, Brutus, and Ilona.

Graceful Ladies Like Purple: She's a Lady of Black Magic who mostly wears purple and black. Violet is often emphasized with her in official artist's depictions, as well as occasionally being the color of her magic.

Hates Being Touched: Well, at least when it comes to simple greetings. Morrigan's just not a handshake person; she doesn't in the least understand the need for it.

Hollywood Atheist: Not so much in the reasons for her non-belief, which are fairly realistic, but in that her atheism goes along with being selfish, misanthropic, and actively contemptuous of religious people.

Hot Witch: Lampshaded, not that it's all that unusual for the setting.

Impossibly Cool Clothes: The blouse of her 'robes' are loose and draping from the shoulders and down the front, yet has a laced cinch at the back. It's possible but difficult to make and impractical to wear. Especially implausible as most of what she knew about humans came from observation, but there are no role models shown for her design.

The Robes of Possession (which presumably belong to Flemeth) share the same design.

Ineffectual Loner: Morrigan’s not a “people” person. In camp, her tent is placed away from all the others, and she has her own private campfire where only Ilona bothers to visit her.

Insufferable Genius: According to Alistair, who tries to use a Chantry-related question to mock her for it.

Jerkass: Almost all the time. As noted above, the only people who seem to get along with her are Zevran, Brutus, and Ilona.

Lady of Black Magic: Well-spoken, cunning, and evil, she has a look of wild elegance and favors very destructive spells.

Licked by the Dog: By Brutus, of course. In Witch Hunt, she’s actually rather pleased at how happy he is to see her.

Love Redeems: Morrigan’s personality during her appearance in Dragon Age: Inquisition was likely the result of Ilona befriending her. She behaves with much more warmth and compassion.

Magic Pants: Whenever Morrigan strips down to her underwear for any reason, she's always wearing a white bra and panties, even though she clearly doesn't wear a bra with her standard outfit.

Her original concept art, on the other hand, depicts her wearing a bra underneath her robes.

Meaningful Name: The Morrigan was a shapeshifting Celtic deity of war and death, but she averts the trope since the lead writer said that Morrigan is named after a character of a friend of his and all similarities with the Celtic goddess are coincidental, as they are with Morgan le Fay.

.Seems the outfit designers didn't get that memo. The crow feathers on her shoulder are symbolic of the other Morrigan.

In-universe, she seems to be named after a legendary Avvar warlord famed for her powers of seduction as well as her skills as a fighter. Given what Flemeth sent her to do, this was probably an intentional reference on her part.

Nature Hero: An unconventional Evil Counterpart of the standard version. Instead of a kindly Friend to All Living Things, she lacks compassion for anything barring a scant few exceptions, embraces social Darwinism, and doesn't hesitate to resort to murder if someone gets in her way. She's Nature Is Not Nice personified.

No Social Skills: She is largely tactless and ignorant of/annoyed by social mores; she considers shaking hands an offensive breach of her personal space, for example. This is because she was raised in the wilds, largely forbidden to interact with outside world.

No Sympathy: A big part of her character. Morrigan just doesn’t do empathy. She may surprise the audience every now and then, however - once befriended, she genuinely cares about Ilona and her feelings, expressing sympathy over the death of Ilona’s mother and having girl talks with her.

No, You: Notably in one of her conversations with Alistair:

Alistair: "So let's talk about your mother, for a moment..."

Morrigan: "I'd rather talk about your mother."

Alistair: "But there's nothing to talk ab— And besides, isn't your mother a scary witch who lives in the middle of a forest? Much more interesting."

Morrigan: "To you, perhaps. You would find the moss growing upon a stone interesting."

Not Good with People: She freely admits that due to her time in the Korcari Wilds, she's better at understanding animals than people.

Not So Different: To Flemeth.

Oblivious Guilt Slinging: Ilona unknowingly invokes this in Morrigan after befriending her. It doesn't stop Morrigan from following through with her true objectives, but it's clear that she feels guilty about it. However, when she finally reveals her true intentions to Ilona, instead of getting angry at her, Ilona understands and holds no hard feelings towards her.

Odd Friendship: Any friendship she forms, given her complete lack of social skills. It's especially notable with Ilona.

Only Friend: Morrigan admits that Ilona is the first friend she's ever had and that she views her almost as a sister.

Pet the Dog: She apologizes to Ilona for her jerkass tendencies and admits that she appreciates her friendship.

In Witch Hunt, she practically does this literally. When Ilona finally catches up to her, both Morrigan and Brutus are quite happy to see each other and she even cracks a rare smile.

At the Lothering Chantry, when Ilona asks the revered mother for her blessing, Morrigan respectfully kneel along with the rest of the party. Contrast this with her usual dismissive attitude towards the Chantry and religious belief in general.

When Ilona admits that her mother was killed during an attack on her family’s castle, Morrigan responds with genuine sympathy for her loss.

Pre-Climax Climax: With Alistair in order to conceive a child to complete a dark ritual that would prevent either him or Ilona from dying after slaying the Archdemon.

Raised as a Host: After finding Flemeth’s grimoire she becomes convinced this was her mother’s intent for her and asks Ilona to kill Flemeth for her.

Raven Hair, Ivory Skin: She has pale skin and black hair, and a few characters often comment that she’s very beautiful.

Sequel Hook: You just know the child she conceives with Alistair at the end is going to show up again. And of course, he does — in Inquisition.

Sideboob

The Smart Guy

Social Darwinist: Flemeth raised her to be a pretty severe example of this. As a result, Morrigan believes that people who can’t solve their own problems without help are worth less than nothing. It actually explains many of Morrigan’s more Stupid Evil tendencies. Perhaps the best example is in the “Broken Circle” quest, where she insists Ilona should leave the Mages to their fate, claiming that their current plight is their own fault, for a) agreeing to be caged in the Tower in the first place and b) not being strong enough to stop Uldred before things got out of hand.

Stalker with a Test Tube: Her real reason for joining the party is that she needs to become pregnant by a Grey Warden in order to complete a dark ritual.

The Starscream: To Flemeth, albeit out of self-defense rather than ambition.

Stupid Evil: Often falls into this. She seems to take the position that helping others is universally wrong, even if such aid is explicitly rendered solely on the condition of later repayment (and even if the person being helped is absolutely critical to stopping the Blight).

The Tease: Towards Sten and even occasionally Alistair.

Token Evil Teammate: Morrigan actively disapproves of acting selflessly and helping others.

Too Many Belts: Her outfit features a skirt that appears to be made out of rags and strips of cloth stitched together with belts.

Took a Level in Kindness: Takes one over the course of the story after Ilona befriends her. Similarly, despite her constant irritation at Brutus, she broadly smiles upon seeing him again at the end of Witch Hunt.

This follows her into Inquisition, where Morrigan comes across as warmer and more compassionate most likely because of Ilona befriending her.

Troll: A large portion of her conversations with other companions is this, particularly with Sten.

Sten: "Paarshara! Why do you pester me?“

Morrigan: "Because ‘tis amusing, that is why”

Tsundere: Oh yes. Type A, mostly tsuntsun, but Ilona’s kindness brings out the deredere (as much as she is capable of, anyway).

She eventually apologizes for her behavior in a very roundabout Tsundere-ish manner.

Tykebomb: One of many raised by Flemeth. Unusually, she ends up defusing herself to a certain extent, planning Flemeth’s death the moment she realizes her end use; it’s not until Witch Hunt that she finally slips her leash altogether, though. Temporarily, anyway.

Vain Sorceress: She’s a magpie when it comes to jewelry.

Verbal Tic: Almost all of her dialogue is spoken in a sing-song rhythmic style, which is not that noticeable at first but becomes far more apparent the more characters talks to her. She also has a noticeable fondness for the word “'tis,” and she uses the “over” instead of “too,” as in “overlong and "overmuch”.

Voluntary Shapeshifting: Her specialization.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #Morrigan #Tv Tropes

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alianniegould1991 · 4 years

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brajeshupadhyay · 4 years

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Joe Biden names Kamala Harris as running mate to take on Donald Trump, Mike Pence in Nov

If Joe Biden’s selection of Kamala Harris is met with a cold shoulder by some on the Left, she is likely to be embraced by Biden’s most important electoral constituency within the Democratic Party: Black voters

Joe Biden selected Senator Kamala Harris of California as his vice-presidential running mate Tuesday, embracing a former rival who sharply criticised him in the Democratic primaries but emerged after ending her campaign as a vocal supporter of Biden and a prominent advocate of racial-justice legislation after the death of George Floyd in late May.

Harris, 55, is the first Black woman and the first person of Indian descent to be nominated for national office by a major party, and only the fourth woman in history to be chosen for one of their presidential tickets. She brings to the race a far more vigorous campaign style than Biden’s, including a gift for capturing moments of raw political electricity on the debate stage and elsewhere, and a personal identity and family story that many find inspiring.

Biden announced the selection over text message and in a follow-up email to supporters: “Joe Biden here. Big news: I’ve chosen Kamala Harris as my running mate. Together, with you, we’re going to beat Trump.” The two are expected to appear together in Wilmington, Delaware, on Wednesday.

After her own presidential bid disintegrated last year, many Democrats regarded Harris as all but certain to attempt another run for the White House. By choosing her as his political partner, Biden may well be anointing her as the de facto leader of the party in four or eight years.

A pragmatic moderate who spent most of her career as a prosecutor, Harris was seen throughout the vice-presidential search as among the safest choices available to Biden. She has been a reliable ally of the Democratic establishment, with flexible policy priorities that largely mirror Biden’s, and her supporters argued that she could reinforce Biden’s appeal to Black voters and women without stirring particularly vehement opposition on the right or left.

While she endorsed a number of left-wing policy proposals during her presidential bid, Harris also showed a distinctly Biden-like impatience with what she characterised as the grand but impractical governing designs of some in her party.

“Policy has to be relevant,” Harris said last summer in an interview with The New York Times. “That’s my guiding principle: Is it relevant? Not, ‘Is it a beautiful sonnet?’.”

In a Twitter post Tuesday, Harris said she was honoured to join Biden on the ticket. “Joe Biden can unify the American people because he’s spent his life fighting for us,” she wrote.

For all the complexity of Biden’s vice-presidential search, there is a certain foreordained quality to Harris’ nomination. She has been regarded as a rising figure in Democratic politics since around the turn of the century, and as a confident representative of the country’s multiracial future. Harris sought to capture that sense of destiny in her own presidential campaign, announcing her candidacy on Martin Luther King Jr Day in 2019 and paying frequent homage to Shirley Chisholm, the first Black candidate to seek a major party’s nomination.

Throughout her rise, Harris has excited Democrats with a personal story that set her apart even in the diverse political melting pot that is California: She is the daughter of two immigrant academics, an Indian-American mother and a father from Jamaica. Harris was raised in Oakland and Berkeley, attended Howard University and pursued a career in criminal justice before becoming only the second Black woman ever elected to the Senate.

Still, Harris was far from a shoo-in for the role of Biden’s running mate, and some of Biden’s advisors harboured persistent reservations about her because of her unsteady performance as a presidential candidate and the finely staged ambush she mounted against Biden in the first debate of the primary season. Jill Biden, the former second lady, called Harris’ debate stage remarks a “punch to the gut” at a fundraiser in March.

In the end, however, Biden may have come to see the panache Harris displayed in that debate — when she confronted him over his past opposition to busing as a means of integrating public schools — as more of a potential asset to his ticket than as a source of lingering grievance. Indeed, even in the bleaker periods of her presidential candidacy last year, Harris maintained an ability to excite Democratic voters with the imagined prospect of a debate-stage clash between her and President Donald Trump.

Minutes after the announcement, the Biden campaign released what they called a fact sheet — “Biden-Harris: Ready to lead,” read the subject line. Perhaps in recognition of the attention paid to tensions between the Biden family and Harris surrounding the debate stage attack, the release included a section titled, “Kamala’s partnership with Joe Biden”.

The document noted that she served as attorney-general of California when Biden’s son, Beau, was attorney-general of Delaware. “The two grew close while fighting to take on the banking industry,” read one bullet point. “Through her friendship with Beau, she got to know Joe Biden. From hearing about Kamala from Beau, to seeing her fight for others directly, Joe has long been impressed by how tough Kamala is.”

Biden’s choice drew immediate praise Tuesday afternoon from some of his former rivals for the Democratic nomination. Senator Amy Klobuchar of Minnesota, herself a onetime candidate for the vice-presidential slot, called it a “historic moment” and praised Harris’ leadership, experience and character.

The Trump campaign responded to Harris’ selection with a statement branding her as “proof that Joe Biden is an empty shell being filled with the extreme agenda of the radicals on the Left”. Katrina Pierson, a spokeswoman for the campaign, attacked the policy stances Harris adopted during her own presidential campaign and highlighted her past attacks on Biden.

“Clearly, Phony Kamala will abandon her own morals, as well as try to bury her record as a prosecutor, in order to appease the anti-police extremists controlling the Democrat Party,” Pierson said.

After leaving the presidential race in December, Harris turned her attention back to the Senate and found new purpose amid a wave of nationwide protests this spring against racism and police brutality. She marched beside protesters and forcefully championed proposals to overhaul policing and make lynching a federal crime, often speaking with a kind of clarity that had eluded her in the presidential primaries on economic issues like health care and taxation.

Harris is likely, however, to face some scepticism from the Left — and attacks from Trump — over her record as district attorney of San Francisco and attorney-general of California. She has struggled in the past to defend her handling of some highly sensitive cases, including one involving a death-row inmate seeking to obtain DNA evidence for his case, as well as her decision to defend California’s death penalty in court despite her stated opposition to capital punishment.

In perhaps her worst moment of the 2020 primary race, Harris during a debate appeared entirely unable to rebut searing criticism from an obscure rival, Representative Tulsi Gabbard of Hawaii, who demanded that Harris apologise for having prosecuted so many people for marijuana infractions. At other times, Harris struggled to articulate clear positions on litmus-test issues like single-payer health care.

But if Biden’s selection of Harris is met with a cold shoulder by some on the Left, she is likely to be embraced by Biden’s most important electoral constituency within the Democratic Party: Black voters.

Indeed, his choice reflects an emphatic recognition of the diversity of the Democratic political coalition and the foundational role that Black women in particular play within the party. Black women are among the most loyal Democratic constituencies, and without their overwhelming support Biden would have been unlikely to secure the Democratic nomination in the first place. By nominating a Black woman for national office, Biden appears to be acknowledging the immensity of that political debt.

He considered at least five Black women for the job, including Susan Rice, the former national security advisor to former President Barack Obama, and Representative Karen Bass, before ultimately settling on Harris. While Biden never described race as a central criterion in his decision-making, he stressed repeatedly throughout the process that he was reviewing a highly diverse group of candidates, including Latina and Asian-American candidates.

Biden faced only limited pressure from voters and Black elected officials to select an African-American running mate, and polls found that even liberals and Black voters themselves mostly believed that race should not be a factor in his decision. But the political atmosphere that took hold after the killing of Floyd in Minneapolis seemed to demand a running mate who could speak with great authority on matters of racism, law enforcement and social inequity — and there is little doubt that Harris will be called upon to do just that.

Some Democratic leaders also urged Biden to choose a Black running mate for purely strategic reasons, arguing that an increase in Black turnout across the South and Midwest could improve both Biden’s chances of winning the Electoral College and his party’s odds of winning a majority in the Senate. Still, it remains an open question how much Harris will help Biden and his party in that respect: Last year, she never garnered strong support in the diverse primary states of South Carolina and Nevada, and opinion research conducted by Biden’s team in recent weeks suggested she was not especially compelling to Black voters.

The question of Biden’s potential running mate was an urgent issue even for his core admirers, some of whom supported him in the Democratic primaries because they believed he could win the election but worried about whether he would be able to generate passionate enthusiasm for his candidacy. Part of Harris’ task now may be to stir the energy of Biden’s coalition in a way he has seldom managed to do himself.

The immediate political impact of Harris’ selection could be relatively muted in a campaign shaped so heavily by forces of extraordinary scale, most of all a global pandemic that has claimed many tens of thousands of American lives and pushed the economy into a painful recession.

Yet it has been clear for months that Biden’s vice-presidential decision would have unusually weighty implications for the Democratic Party, and for national politics in general. If he wins in November, Biden would become the oldest president ever to hold the office, and few senior Democrats believe he is likely to seek a second term that would begin after his 82nd birthday.

As a result, when Democrats formally approve Harris as Biden’s running mate this month, they may well be naming her as a powerful favourite to lead their party into the 2024 presidential race.

Biden’s age — 77 — also may have heightened the importance of finding a running mate with thoroughly convincing political credentials. Biden himself seemed sensitive to that reality, reiterating often that he wanted a vice president who would be ready to assume the top job immediately.

“The first and most important attribute is, if something happens to me, the moment after it does, that that person is capable of taking over as president of the United States of America,” he said at a fundraiser in May.

The vice-presidential search was at once highly public — involving tryouts on television and in online campaign events for more than half a dozen candidates — and surprisingly discreet for a campaign that has weathered a sizeable number of leaks over the past 15 months.

Much of the process was carried out by a committee of four trusted advisors named by Biden in late April: Former Senator Chris Dodd of Connecticut, Representative Lisa Blunt Rochester of Delaware, Mayor Eric Garcetti of Los Angeles and Cynthia Hogan, Biden’s former chief counsel.

Aided by a team of lawyers, this group held interviews with a range of vice-presidential prospects and delved into their political records, personal finances and private lives before referring a smaller number of them for interviews with Biden.

The field of women considered was certainly the most diverse array of vice-presidential candidates in history, beginning with a pool of more than a dozen contenders that included governors, senators, members of the House, a former UN ambassador, the mayor of Atlanta and a decorated combat veteran. The group included two Asian-American women and the first openly gay person elected to the Senate. Dodd in particular is said to have pressed for a large list with some unconventional names on it, to give Biden maximum flexibility in his choice.

By the end of June, a smaller cluster of candidates had emerged as strong contenders, impressing the screening committee in interviews and reaching a point in the process that involved extensive document requests from Biden’s lawyers. Among that group were Harris, Senators Elizabeth Warren of Massachusetts and Tammy Duckworth of Illinois, Representative Val Demings of Florida, Governor Michelle Lujan Grisham of New Mexico, Bass of California and Rice, the former national security advisor and UN ambassador.

Yet more than in any other recent vice-presidential process, it was also plain enough from the start that this one would be decided by one person, and one person alone, with an unusually well-developed sense of the vice presidency and firm convictions about how to do the job right. After all, Biden is the first presidential candidate in 20 years to choose a running mate after serving as the vice-president himself.

On the campaign trail, Biden constantly fielded inquiries about a possible vice-presidential pick, leading him to craft a well-honed answer about his criteria. In addition to being able to assume the presidency immediately, if necessary, Biden’s running mate must be “simpatico” with him on critical issues of the day, as well as on a broader vision for how to lead the nation.

Biden’s running mate should also balance him out with “some qualities that I don’t possess,” he has said.

Perhaps most importantly, he has emphasised the need to select a vice-president with whom he could have the same trusting, candid relationship that he had with Obama.

“We disagreed on some tactical approaches,” Biden recalled at a fundraiser in April, describing the lunches he and Obama had “where everything was on the table.” But, he went on, “It has to happen in private. You always have to have the president’s back.”

Alexander Burns and Katie Glueck c.2020 The New York Times Company

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framing-visualculture · 4 years

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What’s with digital wallpapers in Chinese homes?

This article was originally published on medium.

In China, copying is not at all bad. There is a term “Fu Zhi Pin,” referring to copies of things made with such craft and exactitude that it is worthy of study in a museum. Fast forward to 21st Century and contemporary Chinese domestic space. Copying, or maybe copy pasting, is celebrated, but in a different way. The trend of plastering wallpapers of digitally rendered nature and blog space backgrounds onto walls and floors of Chinese home is an intriguing one. How did the copying of Western architecture in residential communes and homes lead to saturated, digital wallpaper and Karaoke style lighting design to be the preferred taste of the older generation? The answer lies in breaking down the aesthetic of “China Too Cool.”

Knock-offs, counterfeits, unoriginal. These are the words that usually come to mind when we think about things “Made in China.” As China has risen to become the largest export economy in the world, exporting over 2 trillion US dollars worth of goods in 2017, it has become no exaggeration to say that in almost every region of the world, everyone must own or at least have encountered something manufactured in China. In today’s episode, we’re going to consider goods and cultural productions made in China, and question the stereotype of unoriginal counterfeit goods. To do so, we’ll first look at what’s China’s fascination with copying, and then examine architecture and interior design choices to understand the phenomena of tacky, repurposed aesthetic taste that I call “China Too Cool.” The term “Too Cool” is the phonetic English translation of a subcultural style “土酷” (Tuku), which in Chinese means “tacky cool.” The emphasis should be on the English term “Too” and not the Chinese “Tu” as in tacky. It should be considered in its double meaning of both outdated and cool, cooler, coolest — too cool. This style is marked by an attitude of poking ironic fun at but also embracing the stylistic elements of dated popular taste.

To get a visual image of Too Cool, think of the Microsoft rainbow word art on a full background of digitally rendered nature, printed on a glossy, plastic laminated cheap notebook. For visual references, I suggest going to the Instagram page of @butterfly.minmin, a 3D graphic artist who is the living embodiment of the saturated visual overkill of Too Cool.

This dress is set against a digital backdrop of QQ chat, China’s online messenger popular in the early 2000s. It is now regaining popularity with Gen Z users, to set themselves apart from their parents and grandparents who are using WeChat.

There is a long-standing tradition of imitation art within China that boasts of its own classification system. The highest form of simulacrum bears the essence of the original — the qi, or in English, the “life force” — to the extent that the image evokes and becomes a “real” substitute of the original. In this case, art imitates and reproduces life, capturing not a perfect copy of the appearance but its essence. We can see this in traditional Chinese ink painting, where the mountains and lakes do not look realistic, but they exude the spirit of the sublime beauty of nature.

A Chinese ink painting by the late artist Zhang Daqian. He topped art sales in 2011, surpassing Picasso.

The act of perfecting copying is also highly regarded by the Chinese as “testament to cultural and technological achievements.” Journalist and Columbia University professor Alexander Stille points to two Chinese terms, “fangzhipin” and “fuzhipin”, to explain the Chinese attitude toward the copy: “Fangzhipin is closer to what we would call a reproduction — a knockoff you would buy in a museum store — whereas fuzhipin is a very high quality copy, something worthy of study or putting in a museum.” These instances of copying are for the sake of understanding the beauty of form and structure, of technology and craftsmanship, and of artistic achievements. For the Chinese, to perfectly reproduce something shows thorough understanding and extraordinary craftsmanship. Value is perceived in the skill of making, not necessarily in having a new idea.

In the book Original copies: architectural mimicry in contemporary China, author Bianca Bosker examined the intriguing phenomena of “simulacrascapes.” These are themed residential communities in China that replicate archaic European and American towns. For instance, you will have “Little Paris” residencies that feature a miniature Eiffel tower in the middle of its park, or a replicated Venetian neighborhood complete with a canal running through it.

A replica of Venice in Dalian, a modern port city in the North-Eastern part of China

While both the Western and Chinese intellectual elite sigh at the “backward” mass scale replication projects, quick to dismiss them as “kitsch”, “fake”, “unimaginative and cliché”, Bosker provides a more nuanced reading of the phenomenon, explaining the conditions for their existence and viewing them as “monuments to the ‘New China’.” These mass scale residential simulacrascape developments, aimed at the expanding middle class, owe their success to their visibility as “coveted status symbols.” Much like the conspicuous logos of branded goods, these themed residencies featuring the trademark forms of Western cultural achievement are meant to signal wealth and luxury. Beneath the surface of “West worship” actually rests a mindset of Chinese superiority, the conviction that all the good things of the world can be found in China, and tailored to Chinese taste to resemble Chinese peoples’ conception of the foreign — the historical tourist spots showcasing the celebrated moments of Western culture.

Let us now examine the interior choices made by home buyers: by looking at the domestic space, we get a glimpse into the popular taste and preferences of individuals. A little search on Zhihu.com, China’s Quora/ Reddit, brought me to revealing explanations of popular contemporary Chinese interior design choices. What the term “European-style” translates to in China is literally: chandeliers, Greek columns, pompous gilded Rococo motifs and gaudy Baroque furnishing.

Notice the chandelier, Rococo bed frame, and wallpaper, and heavy curtains.

Italian philosopher Umberto Eco once explained that such “eclectic frenzy” and “compulsive imitation” “prevail where wealth has no history.” This aesthetic had seen an earlier manifestation in America, in the seemingly “artificial regions” of post-urban California and Florida and it is happening now for the Chinese nouveau riches, especially after the disruption in historical, cultural, and aesthetic richness as a result of the Cultural Revolution. The Rococo motifs and Greek columns, once elements of high culture and luxury are today considered archaic and kitschy for their irrelevance and impracticality to contemporary urban living. This is especially so after the new standard of design elevating functionality over appearance set by the Bauhaus school and Modernist architecture.

A more interesting development of this interior appropriation is how these “European style” copies evolve into mutations with Chinese characteristics. What is kept of the “European style”, in other words, the elaborately ornamental Rococo and Baroque, is the essence of sensory overload, but the manifestations are more in keeping with “current” trends.

State of the art 3D renderings extending your living room to a fantasy world of nature.

One image from Chinese Quora Zhihu.com shows the design on a sliding closet door (top left). It features bright, saturated colors of blue skies and soaring birds, a high-definition landscape rendering of detailed grass, gradient-infused lotus plants in the foreground, a flat pictorial space, and an unmistakable uplifting mood. It is all too much. It’s too artificial, too uplifting, too bright, too much, “Too Cool.”

This was a photo in a series uploaded by a millennial netizen expressing her disbelief at her parents’ interior design choices for their new house on the outskirts of the main city. She is not alone in her lamentation; threads voicing outcry over outlandish new wedding home designs gifted by their loving parents are ubiquitous on the Chinese Internet, gaining popularity and resonance with every “Like”. Among those are bed frames with a Microsoft logo that acts as a lamp, a virus-molecule-like structured lighting fixture, a bedroom with crowded magenta rose wallpaper and magenta bed sheets, big digitally rendered aurora flowers, and a kitchen floor fully covered with a stock image of retreating seawater and sandy beach.

Imagine cooking in this kitchen. You can almost pick the salt from the sea water.

These acts of personalizing your living room wallpaper or lighting fixtures are popular with older people from small cities in China. That, combined with their love for nature and saturated colors result in a home of digital pretense of nature.

In order to understand “mom and dad’s” unwavering belief in the aesthetic choices of these interiors, we have to put things into context and perspective. Whatever is “fashionable”, “trendy”, or “cool”, “has always to be differentiated from the mainstream.” So we have to ask: in comparison to what are these design choices cool and trendy? If we think about the older, simple countryside homes with wooden furniture and undecorated walls before the rapid urbanization and digitization of China, then all the examples I have presented exhibit an extraordinary sense and creativity in being different. They are most likely not going to be defined as refined and classic, but in terms of “coolness”, in terms of novelty, these interior designs might stand a chance, even if only within the circle of “mom and dad” or small-town folk.

Globalization and localization aren’t just buzzwords for the marketing director, they can be felt when you enter the doors of these Chinese Too Cool interiors. From replicating western architectural clusters to recapturing the essence of newfound wealth and self-expression, Chinese designs take on a life of its own. To only see the designs as tacky knockoffs would be a missed opportunity to embark on a nuanced cultural reading of Chinese thinking.

This article is an excerpt based on my essay “China Too Cool: Vernacular Innovations and Aesthetic Discontinuity of China.” In my essay, I propose Too Cool as a lens of understanding the generational and economic differences in modern China set forth by the country’s rapid urbanization. I talk about cultural productions made during the cultural revolution and right after during the economic reform of Open Door policy, cultural appropriations of Bollywood and poor copies of Japanese anime, as well as bizarre Taobao aesthetics. The overarching theme and mood is a relatable one of displacement and using creativity to regenerate meaning and identity. If this interests you, you can get a free pdf version of my essay here.

#china #chinatoocool #contemporary china #chinese homes #interior #design #architecture #mimicry #copies #aesthetics #rococo #digital nature

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