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yellowocaballero · 4 years

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He’s Just Not That Into You: Web!Jon and Martin ficlet

Another ficlet written in the same universe as The Convention on Chronographer Lane/The Monster at the End of This Book. As before, you don’t need to have read that to read this. These ficlets are being written as character studies so I get a good handle on the uniqueness of the characters in this AU before I actually write something longer. Which is why they’re...like this.

Very slight content warning for internalized fatphobia and Jon being interpreted as being a creep again. Reverse content warning for Martin’s tasty pasta.

EDIT 2/4/2021: With the release of Sucker’s Bet, which this story was a kind of pilot study for, this story is no longer canon. However, you can still consider it a 15 page summary of that entire story. I’m sad I couldn’t keep the ‘join my spider cult’ thing but we all make sacrifices.

Martin was in the middle of making a delicious pot of pasta when Jonathan Sims crawled in through his kitchen window.

Martin stared at Jonathan Sims, too out of it to even be surprised. Jon halted halfway through his entrance, sitting on the windowsill with one leg swung over it to rest on his floor, one leg on the fire escape above. Martin was on the sixth floor of his flat complex.

“Hullo,” Jon said, as if he was not in his window, “have you reconsidered my offer of -”

Martin threw his spoon at Jon, hitting him squarely on the forehead. Jon cursed, shocked into leaning backwards, and he accidentally topped off the window and onto the fire escape. He landed on the metal grid with a loud crash and a rattle, and the muffled sounds of his cursing echoed through the flat.

After a second to grab a new spoon and turn down the heat on the pot, Martin walked over to the window and wiggled it down again. He looked Jon dead in the eyes as he locked it, before going back to his pasta.

It was good. He should add some pesto and herbs next time.

Martin was in the middle of making a delicious pot of pasta when Jonathan Sims crawled in through his kitchen window.

“Hullo,” Jon said, as if he was not in his window, “have you reconsidered my offer of -”

It was good. He should add some pesto and herbs next time.

***

Martin had never really bothered to learn how to cook, but now that he was unemployed he had plenty of time.

Now that he was unemployed, he had plenty of time for lots of things. He was finally taking up knitting again. Lots of seasons of Jane the Virgin to catch up on. His severance package from the Institute had been pretty good, not to mention the check Rosie had slipped him with a wink that she had worryingly called ‘Hazard Pay’, but this was London and even Martin could only make the money stretch so far. He spent eight hours of his day looking for jobs, touting his five year experience as a librarian and six month experience as an Archival assistant. But there was only so far you could go without a degree, and the market was shit, and really wouldn’t it just be so much easier to list a master’s in library science from some huge, anonymous university…

But Martin had the feeling that line of thought was what had put him on Jon’s radar in the first place.

***

A week later Martin was halfway through a comforting Gilmore Girls rewatch when he heard a knock on his door. He had been fastidiously avoiding answering knocks on the door ever since Jon had pulled his first Jehovah’s Witness impression, but he had ordered a replacement washing machine part and it was arriving that day. He put his knitting down and got up, peering through the eyehole - hair not nearly long enough to be Jon, great - and opened the door.

“Hullo,” the man said in a thick Cockney accent, not looking up from his clipboard, “I got a package here for Mr. Blackwood?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Martin held out his hands to take the little screen and sign for the package. After a second of clumsy fumbling, the man passed the package and the screen over, and Martin boredly scribbled his name. “Thanks, mate -”

But the man was gone, and Martin had realized belatedly that the man had slipped past Martin to enter his flat. He easily slid the cap off, letting his tightly curled hair cascade down to his shoulders, and propped his hands on his hips as he spun in a circle, admiring Martin’s extraordinarily boring and cramped flat.

“Really love what you’ve done with the place!” Jonathan Sims said loudly. “Your sense of interior design is really impeccable, Martin, truly. A man’s home is his castle! Oh, is that vintage chintz? So cute.”

“Get out of my house.”

“Look at this ceramic kitten!” Jon was already in front of his mantle, carefully scrutinizing his little row of ceramic figures. They were fifty pence at the charity shops and Martin found them precious and charming, okay? “Your place has so much personality. My flat has personality too, but I’m afraid that personality just screams a propensity towards arson, so it’s much less impressive. How old is that couch, from the 70s? Very grandmother. Is it inherited?”

Yes. “No,” Martin said, resisting the urge to throttle the man as he dumped his washing machine part on the end table, “and please get out of my flat. I’ve said explicitly I don’t want you where I live -”

“Really, Martin, I’m hardly a vampire,” Jon said, having the gall to look offended as he cradled a little meowing ceramic kitten in his hand. “If I needed permission to enter dwellings I’d never go anywhere.” He paused a beat, something seeming to occur to him. “But I get a lot of permission from many different people of a variety of genders to enter their homes for sex, which I am very good at.” He paused again. “I really am very thirsty. I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a spot of tea…?”

Because Martin was British, he made the tea. But he resented every second of it.

Jon hadn’t started stalking him immediately after he and his weirdo friends had murdered Martin’s boss, but it was pretty close. He had probably thought a week was enough time to emotionally recover from the ordeal of finding out that your boss’ boss was an immortal apocalypse cultist or whatever and that your boss was actually just a plant from a different and somehow creepier apocalypse cult inserted into your workplace to assassinate his boss. He had probably thought that a week was enough time to emotionally recover from the fact that Jonathan Sims - prickly, rude, pretentious Head Archivist with a heart of gold - was an elaborate fabrication, and that the man whom Martin had been falling for had never truly existed at all.

A week had not been enough time.

He didn’t even know Jon’s real name.

“So what is your real name, anyway?” They were, unfortunately, sitting at Martin’s rinky-dink kitchen table, complete with little pock-marked burn scars in the wood and a wobbly leg. Martin had a magazine rolled up and jammed under the leg, which he was uncomfortably aware of as Jon lounged in his hard little wooden chair as if it was a thousand dollar gaming chair. The fake UPS uniform helped make him look like something other than a movie star, but it was hard to disguise the sharp and haughty features and the cold grey eyes. He had kept the ceramic cat, placing it in front of him with its little plainative face turned towards Martin.

“What makes you think it’s not Jonathan Sims?” Jon asked archly, sipping at his PG Tips out of a chipped black mug. He made a faint face. “Sorry, is there cream for this? I hate black tea.”

“You always take your tea black,” Martin said automatically. Jon stared at him until he got it. “Of course. Right.”

By the time he got back to the table with the sugar and cream Jon was going through his mail, with absolutely no shame whatsoever. “Bill, bill, overdue bill. You’re hurting for money, aren’t you? You know, I might know someone who’s hiring -”

“If you’re about to say a giant spider that’s going to lay eggs in my stomach and then burst out of my skin and transform me into a spider person, I have to pass.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Jon blatantly lied. “I just don’t think you’re hearing me out. Has anybody ever told you that you’re very unwilling to listen to new ideas?”

“When the new idea is joining a spider cult, then yes. Actually, no, because nobody’s ever asked me that before I met you.”

Jon didn’t seem to pick up on Martin’s extraordinarily pained expression, or maybe he just didn’t care. He leaned in instead, easily dropping a grotesque amount of sugar cubes into his tea. “Just consider it. Let the idea percolate in your mind. There’s a lot of benefits. No more worrying about money. No more putting in all that work to manipulate people. It’d be as easy as breathing for you. Anybody you want to like you likes you, and anybody you hate has their life ruined in days.” Something glinted with light in Jon’s grey eyes, like a spotlight shining off a raincloud. “Anybody you want to fall in love with you does so instantly. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“All for the low, low price of selling my soul to a giant spider god,” Martin said sarcastically. Jon nodded fastidiously, as if it really was a low price. “Seriously, Jon? I have no interest in any of this. I don’t even know why you’ve singled me out to stalk. I don’t - I don’t like manipulating people, it’s not some kind of hobby -”

“Liar. You love manipulating people.” Jon sipped his tea, as if bored. “Honestly, Martin, we’re all friends here. I won’t judge. You don’t need to virtue signal. We both love manipulating people, getting what we want, putting on personas. We like to control how people see us, no matter what that perception is. You believe that ends justify the means, I believe that good means result in good ends. We’ve very similar.” Something strange entered Jon’s expression, almost entirely hidden by the tea, and for the first time Martin wondered if this was an expression Jon hadn’t meant for him to see. “You’re the only person I’ve ever met who is exactly like me. We should work together. You’re so well suited for the Mother. You’d be a treasured son. Valued, celebrated, loved. Everything you always wanted, you can have.”

Silence stretched between them. Martin let Jon think that he was thinking it over, staring into his own cup of Earl Grey and letting the slowly wafting steam fog up his glasses. Jon sipped his tea again, still posed casually yet attractively. In a brief yet stupid spurt of nostalgia Martin found himself missing the man he thought Jonathan Sims had been.

Stupid. Loving Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist, had been as real as crushing on a love interest in a dating sim. Instead, Martin leaned in, and Jon leaned in to match him. Martin locked eyes with him, as sincerely as he possibly could. No lies, no artifice. “Stop projecting your insecurity about your own bad decisions on me,” Martin enunciated clearly, and Jon’s eyes widened in shock. “and get out of my house.”

He did, eventually. Maybe that was one of a million surprising things about Jonathan Sims, or whatever his real name was: Martin could always get him to do what he wanted eventually.

***

Martin did not spend time thinking about Jonathan Sims, mostly because he had the feeling that this was what Jonathan Sims wanted.

Instead, he frantically piled more and more projects and work into his free time. Ever since he was seventeen, Martin had always held down at least three jobs. His life was a never-ending rotation of a six am to three pm shift at Papa John’s, then a three pm to ten pm shift at Panera, and then stumbling home to stuff a ready meal in the microwave before doing it all over again only to work his third weekend job on the weekends. It had gotten to the point where he had paid the unemployed downstairs neighbor living on disability cheques to feed and occasionally take care of Mum because he hadn’t had time to do it himself. Martin could have have just dropped a job and scraped by on two so he could take care of Mum himself, but - well, it wasn’t hurting anybody. His neighbor had needed the cheques, right?

In comparison, the Institute had been an absolute dream. Work from nine to five, every day, then come home and crash. There had been benefits, insurance. It probably said something that even after discovering that both of his bosses had been cultists to Lovecraftian horrors who wanted to end the world or whatever, it was still the best job he ever had. He even missed it, sometimes - missed listening to Sasha and Tim joke around, missed the repetitive work, missed harmlessly and shallowly crushing on his persnickety boss who sometimes flashed a smile at him that made his heart melt.

Fucker had known exactly what he was doing.

That was what got Martin, even now. What had been the point? Jon had been there to infiltrate Elias’ plans for a Head Archivist, or so Sasha had confusingly explained after the fact. The skeptic, pissy act was to show himself off as an ideal candidate: willfully ignorant, psychologically vulnerable, and utterly isolated from everyone. What was the point of...of...seducing Martin?

The thought made Martin want to die. Imagine living a life where you woke up in the morning and thought to yourself, ‘Today I’m going to seduce the ugly, fat, high school dropout in my extensive long con to save/destroy the world’. It was like he was a movie star in a heist film or something, only cruel and pointless.

Was it just to make fun of him? Martin had thought it was. But as he...interacted with Jon more and more, he got the sense that his fascination with Martin was genuine. He genuinely saw something of himself in Martin.

Unless that was a lie too, and he just needed something from Martin. Unless Jon knew that Martin knew that he was conning him, and that there was another reason -

Martin had the terrible sense that Jon lived his life like this, always guessing and second guessing and triple guessing. It sounded...very tiring.

He didn’t know how to explain any of this to Tim. They got together every so often for drinks - actually, Tim texted him asking to hang out, playing it all cool as if he went out and got drinks with tons of buddies all the time but was doing Martin a favor. Martin had the sense that he was hiding a deep and pervasive loneliness, but these days whenever Martin went down too deep a spiral of teasing out motivations he felt like Jon, so he quickly cut it out.

“What’s there to get?” Tim said, throwing back his pint. “He’s an asshole who pretended to be our friend for months, and he turned out to be a total creep who leads a spider cult. You know, as happens sometimes!”

Sometimes Martin got the sense that Tim was a little bitter about what happened at the Archives. He didn’t really have a good thread on why yet, but he had the sense it was because Tim had ‘adopted’ Jon as his friend very intensely and that made him react badly to the perceived betrayal - no! No psychoanalyzing! Not today!

“It do be like that sometimes,” Martin said wisely, peeling away the label at his shitty beer. The bar was crowded, noisy, and dim, and it was hard to hear Tim over the noise. “I don’t know, though. If that was all there was to it, he wouldn’t be showing up at my house all the time…”

“Wait, what?”

Martin explained in short order, trying not to feel embarrassed about it. Tim seemed to grow increasingly furious, and Martin found himself trailing off uncertainly near the end.

“He’s doing the same thing to Sasha,” Tim said lowly. “Fucking freak.”

“Wait, what? He’s been bothering Sasha?” Jesus, that really was creepy. Come to think of it, Martin hadn’t seen Sasha around lately - she used to come get drinks with them right after they all got fired, but the last three invites she had begged off and said that she was ‘dealing with a lot right now’ and that she was ‘really swamped’. Martin was pretty sure that she was also unemployed, so he didn’t really know what she was swamped with, but it wasn’t any of his business. Maybe she was depressed. “Like, is he also trying to recruit her into the spider cult, or…?”

Weirdly, Martin felt a weird pang of disappointment at that. He had thought that what he and Jon had was special.

Ha ha. As if.

“I don’t know!” Tim cried, frustrated. He was gripping his pint glass tightly, as if he wished he was wrapping his fingers around Jon’s very slim and attractive neck instead. “First he keeps bothering Sasha, and now he keeps breaking into your house and flirting with you -”

“What!” Martin squeaked. “He’s not -”

“He’s a predator,” Tim said finally, as if he was a judge delivering a verdict. “Fucking freak. Martin, next time he drops by, I want you to call me immediately. I’ll kick his ass for you.”

“I’m a grown man, I can kick his ass by myself,” Martin said lamely, fully aware that he had never kicked an ass in his life and never would.

“Don’t let that bully intimidate you,” Tim lectured, like the overbearing big brother Martin had always kind of secretly wanted. “He’s just a grifter, spider cult or not. Seriously, Martin, next time he bothers you call me. I have more than a few things I want to say to the bastard.”

It was heartwarming, almost. “You haven’t seen him since he killed Elias, right?”

Tim looked away, scowling. “Nope. Dunno why, if he’s hassling you two. I’m the only one with some serious questions I need to ask him, and he hasn’t even - whatever.” He looked back at Martin, forcing a great big smile. “Really, if he wants a hottie, why isn’t he knocking on my door, right? Like, come on, I’m single and ready to -”

“How’s the job hunt going, Tim!”

“I’m trying to get back into publishing, what do you think! Kill me!”

Martin liked Tim. If you had asked him four months ago if they were really friends, he would have smiled and deflected, because he was pretty sure that Tim was just that friendly to everybody. Martin always felt insecure with friendly and nice people, because he never knew if they were being friendly to him because they liked him and considered him a friend, or if they were just like that with everyone.

But they still got drinks when they didn’t have to, and the expression of tight and barely controlled rage that flashed through his face when he thought that Sasha and Martin were in danger from Jon was real. Maybe they really were friends.

Maybe there was something deeply buried and long since repressed in Tim that was destroying him slowly from the inside. Maybe Martin and Sasha had that too, that rot: the way Sasha would carelessly invade privacy to hack inside people’s private files without even thinking about it, the way that Martin would almost instinctively balance impression management with playing down to expectations with always dissecting people in a ruthless search for a weak point without even thinking about it.

Maybe they were all bad people, every one of them. It felt sometimes as if Martin had a corrupt and diseased heart, that infected parts of his body with a sick necrosis. He hurt people when he didn’t want to; he said things he didn’t mean. There was something rotten and evil in Martin, and sometimes it felt as if he couldn’t help but pass it along from person to person.

Man hands on misery to man, Phillip Larkin said, it deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can, and don’t have any kids yourself.

Well, Martin had the second part down. He was still working on the first.

***

But Martin was right to worry, because when he woke up at seven the next morning to shamble into his living room, he flipped the light switch to see Jonathan Sims sitting on his grandma couch flipping through his meager collection of books.

“You don’t read very much, do you?” Jon said.

“How did you get into my house.”

“Told the landlord I was the exterminator and needed to get in to spray for bugs.” Jon tossed the book on the battered coffee table - 1984 - and reclined on the sofa. “You really do have quite a bit of spiders, though. Want me to take care of that? Do you want more spiders? I can get you as many spiders as you like.”

The way he sat was purposeful, the way one of his black boots with a low heel was propped on the coffee table, the way his dark and closely cut trousers were slightly splayed, his tight black turtleneck highlighting his figure was slightly hidden by a fine white silk jacket. The small part of Martin’s mind that used to work at a dry-cleaners inanely wondered how difficult that jacket was to keep clean. Most of Martin’s mind was occupied realizing that Tim was right, and that Jon was flirting with him.

“What do I have to say to get you to leave my house,” Martin said, instead of asking why, why, why, why. He knew why - spider cult purposes - but why -

“Lots of poetry collections, though,” Jon said, and Martin knew that he had caught him looking. He had a little half-smile: half encouraging, half shy. “You have great taste. I’m a Yeats fan too.”

Sure. “Name one Yeats poem.”

“The Stolen Child,” Jon said instantly.

Martin narrowed his eyes. “What do you like about it?”

Jon was silent.

“Thought so.” Martin pointed at his door. “Out.”

There it was, a brief explosion, so quick that Martin might have thought he imagined it: grinding teeth, sloping eyebrows, a scowl. A flash of irritation: here one second, gone the next. “I like your poetry, though,” Jon attacked, a different angle. “Your imagery is very vivid.”

What the fuck. “You went through my diary?” Martin screeched.

“Yes?” Jon looked slightly flummoxed. “I was doing research. People like it when you display interest in their hobbies.”

“I am making coffee,” Martin said, voice strangled, “and I am making breakfast. And if you refuse to leave, you are not saying a single word until I’ve had caffeine.”

And then Martin refused to acknowledge Jon any more. Martin quickly realized that Jon hated this very much, used to being the center of attention wherever he was, and it was an extremely effective method of making him throw himself into a kitchen chair and sulk as the coffee pot sputtered out a cup. Martin focused himself on heating up the pan and cracking a few eggs into a bowl, whisking it absentmindedly as he clenched his mobile.

He should call Tim. He had never known Jon to get violent, but that didn’t mean anything. The guy was...he was…

He glanced back at Jon, who had his arms crossed and was frowning down at the stained wood of the kitchen table. He didn’t seem to know Martin was looking, and it occurred to Martin for the first time that this might be the authentic Jon: tired and frustrated and uncertain what he was doing wrong.

The eggs sizzled on the frying pan, and Martin pushed them around with a spatula. “What do you like on your eggs?”

Jon looked up, surprised, before rearranging his expression into something cool and distant. “Surprise me.”

Martin served them cheesy with herbs, just for that. When Jon took a bite he looked surprised, as if he had been expecting something spiteful and received only something good in exchange.

When he put a cup of Early Grey in front of him, with sugar congealing on the bottom and rosy brown from the cream, he looked surprised again too.

“You’re excellent at reading people,” Jon said, carefully directly after Martin had a sip of his coffee. “Mother would -”

“Do you want to make a bargain?” Martin asked.

That caught Jon’s attention. He smiled winningly, leaning in, hair carefully arranged to fall over one shoulder in a painfully attractive way. “I could be convinced.”

“If you knock on my door at a reasonable hour, then I will let you in and we can talk or whatever. I’ll make us tea. I don’t care.”

Jon’s grin only widened, and when Martin felt a foot brush his leg he had to fight the urge to jump a foot in the air. “What’ll I do in exchange?”

“You let up on the sales pitch,” Martin said severely, and physically moved his chair further away from Jon. “And you stop lying to me. And for christ’s sake, stop pretending you’re into me.”

Jon blinked, expression falling in shock.

He scrambled to paste something back on, but it was as if he couldn’t decide. Martin saw him half-cycle through different expressions, different appearances: abashed, eager, flirtatious. It was as if he was frantically guessing which Jon would work best to convince Martin to do what he wanted, but he just couldn’t decide.

Finally, he weakly asked, “What makes you think I’m not into you?”

Martin couldn’t help it: he scoffed bitterly. “Guess someone like you was never asked out as a joke in secondary. Nobody would honestly find me attractive. Everything you do is calculated, Jon, and I’m not vain enough to think the flirting is an exception. It’s obvious.”

“I’m not obvious,” Jon said, physically fighting to keep his expression from twisting into anger. It was...obvious. He eventually forced his expression into something wide-eyed and sincere, reaching out a hand to place on Martin’s arm. It was warm, but it settled oddly on Martin’s skin. Something about it didn’t feel like a human arm. “That’s just your low-self esteem talking, love. When I look at you, I see -”

“A sucker?”

Jon opened his mouth, then closed his. His hand was still on Martin’s arm. Martin didn’t know why he hadn’t shaken it off. “I see someone very kind,” Jon said, almost lamely. “I like that in a man.”

“Yeah, sure.” Martin shook his hand off - disgusted with Jon, disgusted with himself. Someone like Jon - attractive, confident, smooth - could never understand how it felt. He didn’t know why he expected him to. “I don’t know why you aren’t leaving me or Sasha alone, or why you’re trying to recruit us both into your spider cult -”

“I’m trying to recruit Sasha into my vigilante superhero team, actually.”

“Whatever. Point is, if I can’t get rid of you, I don’t want our conversations to be exhausting. These...games you’re always playing,” Martin waved his hand demonstratively as he chugged coffee with the other, “are tiring. Maybe - maybe you and I are similar, Jon. But the difference between us is that I find these games tiring. I don’t like doing it. I - what I want is a relationship where there’s no games. Where I can just be me and the other person can just be them. Don’t you want that too?”

Jon stared at him, eyes wide, almost shocked, almost hesitant, almost hopeful.

Finally, he said, “I only trust three people.”

“I’m not asking you to trust me,” Martin, who trusted nobody, said exasperatedly. What did it say, that the leader of the spider cult trusted more people than Martin did? “I’m just asking you not to lie to me.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Jon said, before pausing a beat. “I’d trust you if you joined my spider cult.”

“You’re shit out of luck, then. And you’re not going to convince me.” Martin took another sip of his coffee, hiding his trembling hands. “Because you can’t lie to me, Jon. Face it: I’m almost as good as you are.” He smiled wryly. “As good as someone can get without supernatural powers, anyway.”

Jon stared at him, just stared, and Martin let the moment linger in silence as he cut into his eggs. Finally, he said, “You’ll tolerate my presence if I agree to drop the act.”

“Yep.”

“I’m not sure how to drop the act,” Jon admitted, somewhat embarrassed, as if he was admitting to not knowing how to tie his shoes.

Martin rolled his eyes. “Do your best. You must have been normal at one point.”

“When I was normal,” Jon said, “nobody tolerated me at all.”

The shocking honesty made Martin almost gag on his coffee. Jon’s eyes widened again, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just said, as if he had never meant to say it. As if nobody had ever heard it at all.

“Now that we’re actually getting somewhere,” Martin said, tactfully not touching that barrel of worms - er, spiders - with a two meter pole. “Can you please tell me your real name? Unless it was, like, wiped from your mind by your spider mom? Is this like one of those cult things were they rename you for indoctrination purposes?” Something terrible occurred to him. “Is every guy in your cult named John and every woman named Annabelle? It was just a fake name you gave to Elias, right? Right?”

Jon - whoever he was - stared at Martin, completely and utterly dumbfounded.

Then he laughed, long and hard, hoarse and wheezing and breathy, and Martin knew that this, at least, was real.

***

Martin: I think I’ve taken care of the Jon thing

Martin: Probably

Martin: The guy’s kinda hopeless

Tim: ya sash said that hes cool

Tim: apparently shes a vigilante now? or smth? Idk

Martin: Yeah that seems about right

Martin: At least she’s living her best life?

Tim: ya good for her honestly

Tim: ….so does Spider-Man KNOW how to use all eight of those arms ifyaknowwhatimean

Martin: WE! ARE! JUST! FRIENDS!

***

“ - so then after my father passed tragically of brain cancer, I was raised by my emotionally distant and disaffected Gran. I think she’s the one who taught me that if I ever want anything in life, I have to secure it for myself. I’ve been very independent ever since I was a child, and although my social skills have always been naturally lacking I’ve worked to compensate for that by studying the art of social interaction. I guess you could call it somewhat of a special interest of mine, I like to sit in coffeeshops with my sister Annabelle and study passerby -”

“Uh huh.”

“Did you know forty percent of Britons own pets? I think it reveals interesting things about the human psychology. The domestication of dogs has always been fascinating, of course. Did you know that all dogs are descended directly from the grey wolf? There were other wolf species at the time, but they’ve long since gone extinct.”

“Wow.”

“I know! The evolution of what we today determine as dog breeds were only created in the Victorian era. I’m sure Jonah would have had some thoughts on that, if I hadn’t fed him to my mother. Actually, few people know this, but our modern conceptualization of the wolf pack hierarchy has been thoroughly debunked. Alphas and omegas only exist in captive populations. Tell that to the werewolves, huh! Actually, I organize the weekly Avatar poker games - you can come if you’re interested, great way to make some money - and I actually did tell that to the werewolves, and they were not very happy with me -”

“Jon? I can’t hear the movie.”

“Right, right.” Jon passed Martin the popcorn. “So what’s this one about?”

Martin scooped up a handful of the popcorn without shame, feeding it in a steady stream into his mouth. “About a guy who gets turned into a fly.”

“That’s fun,” Jon said warmly. “I turned a guy into a fly once. He got stuck in a spider-web immediately and everything, it was quite entertaining.” At Martin’s horrified look, he quickly followed it up with, “Gerry had found out that he was illegally evicting tenants who were undergoing cancer treatment, asking for rent before it was due and physically intimidating the tenants and everything. He also stole one thousand dollars worth of goods from Whole Foods and everything, which is quite funny if you think about it -”

“How does someone steal a thousand dollars with of stuff from Whole Foods? It’s a grocery store.”

“I know, right!” Jon threw up his hands, accidentally sending some pieces of popcorn flying. “The rich are the true parasites, Martin! I’m speaking as an insect person!”

“Word.”

Martin ate more popcorn, and noticed Jon carefully brush his crossed legs against Martin’s knee.

Well, he was trying. He’d stop pretending to like Martin eventually.

They’d get there. ;

#my writing #tma #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfic #tma fanfic #web!jon #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #ME? WRITING JONMARTIN? ITS LESS LIKELY THAN YOUD THINK #tim stoker #feat. tim's protective streak martin's low self-esteem and jon's theater special interest #ftr jon is sex-repulsed and never had any intention of actually going there with martin he just knew martin was into him #offscreen jon was throwing chairs like 'WHY CANT I SEDUCE THIS MAN WHO I SIN LOVE WITH ME'#gerry playing video games: because you actually like him back and you can't handle feelings that are genuinely your own #jon: 'i think ill just flirt harder actually'

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jae-daddy · 4 years

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magic (4)

Draco Malfoy Fanfic

one / two / three / five / six

pairing: draco x reader genre: shifting realities, romance, clown shit plot: you mistaken shift realities too well and end up in harry potter universe with draco malfoy as your companion a/n: i need to stop getting carried away and writing so much lmao. hope yall enjoy it <3 not edited

"Can’t you magic this, so it’s a bit bigger?” You walked out wearing the white and green jumper Draco got for you.

Draco just ignored you and straightened his collar. His hair brushed back, and the black suit stark against his pale skin.

He was undeniably the most attractive human you had ever seen. The TikTok, movies and pictures did not do justice to his beauty. The one that existed in your universe dulled down his beauty.

You had realised on the second night you spent here, that while Draco did look like Tom Felton, he was, in fact, not Tom Felton. It was him, but not him. It was Draco Malfoy. In this universe, no Tom Felton was playing the character, it was just Draco Malfoy, and he was magnificent.

Your eyes met his sliver ones through the reflection, making you frown as you gestured to your outfit.

“I was hoping for a more oversized, boyfriend’s-jersey aesthetic,” you muttered as you spun in front of the mirror. “I mean, it’s not bad, but a little bigger would just be perfect.”

“It won’t make a difference,” Draco sighed, as he turned to face you. “You will still remain a hideous muggle.”

You rolled your eyes at him, as he walked past you. “Not everything is about you Malfoy. This is about self-confidence and love.”

“Are you coming?” He ignored you, as he held the door open for you.

You looked at him with butterflies dancing in your stomach as your palms got sweaty. You gulped as you looked beyond him to the dark hallway outside.

Your eyes glanced at Draco’s face to find him watching you impatiently. You wiped your palms on the pair of joggers you had borrowed from Draco.

You were nervous. You had thought about leaving this room a thousand times over the past week, but now that the moment was here, you were scared.

What if you didn’t remain invisible? What if you’re somehow caught?

What would happen to you? What would happen to Draco?

Your shaky gaze fixed on Draco once more, and his face softened slightly as he gave you a small reassuring nod.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. With your fists clenched tightly by your side, you marched outside of the room. You felt yourself brush past Draco, and the door close behind you.

You remained still; your eyes shut tight as you stood there unmoving.

“Let’s go, muggle,” Draco whispered in your ear, making you jump. He looked at you his eyes lighting up with amusement as he smirked at you. He was enjoying seeing you so on the edge.

“I wouldn’t worry as much if I were you,” Draco pulled you by the elbow as he began strutting down the stretching hallway. “My parents have left for the game long ago, and no one is here to see you in all your disgusting muggle glory.”

You glared at his head, before relaxing by his side.

He led you through the maze, called Malfoy Mansion, until you were finally outside.

You almost hissed as the sunlight assaulted your eyes.

“I feel like a vampire,” you muttered, making Draco chuckle.

“You really do not want to feel like a vampire,” he snickered, making you turn to him with eyes wide in surprise.

“No way!” You gasped. “There are actual vampires here? Are they hot?”

Draco peered at you with absolute disgust, “I will choose to ignore whatever you just said.”

“I guess not then,” you sighed as you folded your arms and stomped behind him. You hoped you could get a little mixture of every supernatural fantasy, maybe dip your toe into the Twilight world before you returned home.

Your steps stopped as you approached a beautiful red car. It was a real vintage that you only saw in movies or sportscar conventions. The top was down, and you were ready for a vintage seventies trip.

“Wow,” you awed as you ran your fingers over the cool metal as you made your way to the passenger side.

“I know,” Draco smiled brightly, as he sat into the driver's seat.

You stared at him before snorting at his ridiculous actions.

“Does this car drive itself?” You snorted at him as he put on his sunglasses. He pointed to the middle, and just like magic, another pair appeared. You put them on rolling your eyes.

“It can,” he shrugged after a moment, before starting the engine with a button. “But I like driving it.”

“Draco, do you even have your license?” You quirked an eyebrow at the boy.

“Of course I do,” he sneered, but he was too happy to make it hateful. “The only reason I got this for my birthday last year was that I passed.”

“Aww,” you swooned at him, sarcastically. “Daddy bought you a nice car for your sweet sixteen?”

Draco smirked at you, bringing his glasses down a bit before winking, “I’m twenty-two.”

The car drove off speedily, as he rammed the pedal.

“Fuck off,” you shot back. “You’re still in high school.”

Draco just snickered, the wind blew through his hair. He rested his elbow on the edge, letting the wind run through his fingers. He smiled, as tilted his head back and you almost screamed at him to look at the road.

“We learned about your education system in muggle studies,” he spoke, not looking at you. “It is quite a scam, really. But we do not have what you muggles call universities. Hogwarts and other magical institutions teach everything you need to know.”

“Then how do you become a scholar?” You furrowed your eyebrows. It doesn’t make sense that education is limited to just a few years of study, and then expect wizards to know all.

“You work in that field, you dedicate your life to that magic,” he shrugged, before continuing. “The wizarding world is not built on capitalism where jobs are everything. Wizards do not need a job to survive.”

You nodded taking it all that in. You sunk into your seat and looked at the scene that rushed past you. It was beautiful.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still in Hogwarts,” you frowned at him.

Draco just sighed, annoyed. “Hogwarts is all the education a wizard needs. I shouldn’t have to spell out that would take some time. Each Hogwarts year is two years long.”

“The maths doesn’t add up.” You muttered, folding your arms as you turned away from him. You watched as the plain hills and lakes rushed by you.

You closed your eyes and welcomed the cold crisp wind jolting you awake.

“Don’t stress your pretty muggle mind,” was all Draco said.

__________

“Draco,” you stopped the blonde boy as he reached for another vile. “I know I’m not an expert at magic, but I do have a feeling that it is quite possible to overdose on potions.”

Draco stared at you, his eyes examining you and then the bottle in his hand. He sighed as he put in back.

“I guess two should be enough,” and then as an afterthought put two more into the inner pockets of his jacket. “Alright, stand still now.”

He pulled out a small jar from his bag and he opened it to reveal black paint. He dipped two fingers in before motioning you to come closer. You stood in between his parted legs, as he sat on the hood of his car parked a few miles away from where the Quidditch World Cup was taking place.

You gasped slightly as the cool paint touched your face. You tried hard not to look at Draco’s face, despite the burning feeling of his gaze fixed on you.

You gulped to calm your heart that was beating louder than it should be.

Draco’s fingers dragged along your cheek, leaving two lines. And then he held your chin with his thumb turning your face to the other side.

Your eyes met his piercing ones, and your breath got caught at the back off your throat.

God, you thought he was gorgeous from far away. But right now, from this close, you realised there were no words to describe just how incredibly good-looking he was. His skin was clear, soft and reminded you of snow-covered mountains in the middle of blooming winter. You realised his eyes weren’t blue or grey, no, there were a colour that reminded you of winter mornings.

You felt your cheeks heat as his eyes took you in.

You felt his fingers touch your face with the cool paint.

Draco took his time, his hands moving slowly as he softly ran his fingers along your cheeks. You didn’t want them to ever stop, you wanted it to continue.

You wanted his fingers to trace your ear, then travel down your neck, and keep moving south.

You bit your lip as your eyes shut involuntarily.

You could feel the vicious victory smile plastered smugly on Draco’s handsome face but you couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes.

Draco’s fingers stopped on your cheek by your ear, and you thought it was over.

But then you felt the ghost of his touch trail down. His knuckles tracing the slope of your face for the slightest moment, and then it was gone.

He pushed you back, making your eyes shoot open.

You stared at him, glowering, before fear flashed through them as Draco pulled out his wand.

He snorted, as he rose a perfect eyebrow at you, “Scared, muggle?”

You rolled your eyes as you chuckled at him, “Are you trying to create sexual tension with me as you do with Harry Potter?”

Draco took a deep breath as if holding onto the last bit of self-control he had. He opened his eyes, burning with anger, his jaw locked.

“You’re not denying it,” you smirked, folding your arms.

“Do not test me, muggle,” he sneered, his voice dripping with so much anger, you took a step back in fear.

The smirk fell from your lips as your eyes bounced between the ground and the vicious muggle-hating boy.

He cleared his throat after a moment, his stiff body relaxing slightly. You didn’t follow his shift in tension and remained on the edge of the road not nearing him.

Draco noticed but didn’t say anything.

“Time to make you invisible.” He got up from the car, and walked towards you, his wand dancing between his long fingers.

___________

“I’m so excited!” you giggled as you turned to a sour-faced Draco. “I’ve never gone to quidditch game before.”

“Lucky you,” he muttered, sourly, his eyes following you. “Your first game, and it is in the Minister’s box.”

You just giggled as you skipped along, only to stop when you noticed the older Malfoy laughing with some old man.

Draco came behind you, his breath brushing your ear, “Stay behind me.”

You nodded trailing behind him.

You didn’t speak or move while you were around Lucius Malfoy. You weren’t sure if you were even breathing at times.

You must’ve been doing a good job because Draco would look over his shoulder occasionally to check if you were still there.

You watched Draco meet the other old men, and kept looking around for someone who might be suspicious.

It wasn’t until halfway through the game when Draco got up from his seat and turned to his father.

“Would it be alright for me to go greet Goyle and Crabbe?” He asked, his eyes darting to you for a split second. “I’ve spotted them down in first.”

Lucius Malfoy just waved a hand, but Draco didn’t need more as he began walking away, with you hot on his heels.

“Oh my god,” you whined as you both stopped somewhere on the stairs. “I couldn’t even enjoy the game properly I was so scared.”

Draco stared at you for a moment before snorting.

He pulled out a ticket from his coat, and then, after a second, a lady with a cart appeared.

“Greetings, sir,” the lady grinned, before gesturing to the cart. “What would you like?”

Draco lifted an eyebrow to you as you took in the delicious food displayed.

“Hotdogs?” You asked Draco who hadn’t looked away from you. “What is traditional to have at these games?”

“Two hotdogs,” Draco told the lady, and instantly two appeared in his hands. He didn’t say thank you, and the lady didn’t wait, disappearing right after.

He handed you one.

“Thank you,” you whispered, taking a big bite. You chewed the most delicious hotdog you had ever tasted, and Draco snickered as he saw your eyes widen.

You rolled your eyes as you saw him begin to gloat from the pride of his Wizard world, and how your muggle realm couldn’t even compare. He was right, but you couldn’t stand his smug face.

You sniffled as the cool wind ran through your hair. You looked out to the field where a team scored another goal.

“Good thing you got merch for the winning team,” you smiled at Draco who frowned.

“I was hoping they would lose.” He clipped back.

“You would rather have me visible, then stand next to you in clothes supporting the losing team, Draco,” you shook your head at him, giggling.

Draco looked out onto the field, “Or maybe I’m living through you.”

Your smile flattered as you took in the young boy.

There he was standing in the middle of the finals of the biggest quidditch tournament of the season. The crowds roaring behind him in the bright stadium lights as he remained polished in his black suit and perfect hair. He couldn’t even support the team he wanted.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he spat as his eyes looked at you. “I don’t need your pity, filthy muggle.”

You glared at him before looking above you.

“Oh my, it’s Harry Potter,” you gasped.

Draco followed your gaze and then growled in distaste, rolling his eyes.

_____________

Draco’s father had disappeared by the time you returned to the Minister’s box, but neither of you minded. You walked through the crowds as you took in all the different people jeer around you.

You followed the crowd as it led towards a ground filled with tents and lights.

“What’s that?” you breathed looking over the crowd milling over the place.

“That’s the sewer,” Draco spat scanning the area with disgust. Your eyes met his and he rolled his eyes as the poison lessened. “It’s the breeding ground for muggles, blood traitors and mudbloods.”

You ignored his bad behaviour and looked over at the place in longing instead. You took in the rides, music and laughter and felt the need to go there.

“Can we go?” You asked Draco in the sweetest way you could.

“No,” he bit back in disgust.

“Please?” You begged, making Draco’s face curl into a sneer.

“Fine,” you huffed and began marching off by yourself. “I’ll go explore by myself. You can wait for me here if you want.”

You heard Draco groan in frustration before you heard loud footsteps behind you, “Five minutes.”

You turned to him with a huge grin, “Thank you!”

Draco rolled his eyes and followed your happy skipping form into the campsite.

However, your happiness didn’t last long. An unsettling feeling settled into your stomach making it churn with nerves. You looked around the campsite you were pretty well inside, and you felt your hands begin to shake.

The air thickened with ominous energy, some darkness, but you couldn’t put your finger in.

“What’s wrong?” Draco ordered from beside you. You turned to look at him with glazed eyes. He stared at you, his brows furrowing.

A little kid ran up to you, holding onto your hand, “Do you want to know your destiny, mam?”

You turned to the kid, your mind raging, but you nodded offering him a small smile.

Draco muttered something under his breath but followed closely behind you nonetheless.

You looked at the site, and images began flashing through your mind. It was scenes from the movies. It was the golden trio, and the Weasley twins... and something else, something else you couldn’t remember.

Suddenly, you remembered screams and pain.

You looked around looking for some clue, but you couldn’t remember.

The kid took you inside a tent, a dark-faced Draco behind you, his eyes focused on you.

And then it hit you.

Hot. Flames. Fire. Lucius Malfoy. Death Eaters.

You turned to Malfoy with wide-eyes but it wasn’t almost as if he saw your mind.

“We need to get out of here. Now.” He ordered, grabbing your hand and pulling you away.

Before you were out, you turned to the kid, your throat dry, “Run. Get your friends and family, tell everyone to run, now.”

The kid looked frightened but then nodded running off.

Draco kept leading you out, and somewhere in the distance, a woman’s bloodcurdling scream rang through the night.

You both turned to see flames erupt across the sea of tents, spreading fast. Draco’s grip tightened on your hand as he began running towards the forest.

You could feel the heat of the flames closing in around you. The temperature rising with every step you tried taking away from it. And then you were beating it, the flames moving further and further away as Draco took you to the forest.

You stopped at the edge and turned to the sight in front of you.

The music, lights and happiness all burning in the flames of hell now. Screams and cries tore through the night, and you felt your heart tear into pieces.

You fell onto your knees as each cry of pain cut through your skin. You held onto Draco’s hand, squeezing it tight to keep you in reality. You closed your eyes as a heartwrenching sob fell from you.

Your body shook as uncontrollable sobs raked through your body.

You could’ve stopped it. You could’ve done something. If only you remembered.

Your hand gripped the front of your jumper, thumping against your chest as you silently shook as your sorrow and guilt tore through your body.

Draco didn’t move. He stood there, cold.

His hand limp in yours as you squeezed it tight.

“Shouldn’t you be getting that one out of here?” His cold words spoke. You opened your eyes to find the golden trio. Your eyes met Hermonine’s for a moment before Harry and Ron dragged her away.

Draco didn’t move. He watched as flames raged on. He stood there as you clutched onto his hand as if your life depended on it.

The camp was nothing but smoke and ashes when you finally stopped crying. You felt empty. You didn’t have anything inside you.

Draco bent down to your side, his voice void of any emotion, “Let’s go.”

You turned towards him, letting him help you up. Once you were standing up, you looked into his eyes as tears fell from your eyes.

“I could’ve saved them, Draco.”

#draco malfoy #draco #draco x reader #draco x y/n #Slytherin #Draco angst #fluff #harry potter #jaedaddy #Malfoy #magic #hope y'all enjoy it #im having too much fun writing this #shifting realities

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reaperlight · 3 years

Note

Do you have any lawryght headcanons?

@greenpactbosmer Thanks for the ask!

Headcanons... ooh boy, well...

(Oh and I saw you had another ask there too but I think I may have misunderstood the prompt/what was being asked? In any case I should probablt edit the paragraphs of brain vomit that came out of that but until then here's more paragraphs of brain vomit, uh... sorry 😔)

Anyway...

Headcanons for lawryght can vary greatly from fic verse to fic verse but let's see curtent HC generally...

These three getting together in a canon-like universe...

The RyukxLight will either be established relationship or at the very least Ryuk is more helpful to Light and his plans than in canon to the point Light feels secure enough in his position so he can give L a chance and not feel like he has to kill him immediately so a relationship could actually develop between Light and L beyond "oh no, he's hot... I still have to kill him." (Also expect Light to be even more arrogant and insufferable because he thinks he's immortal and has the power of deathgod and anime on his side.)

Ryuk and Light getting together: And then they were roommates (oh my they were roommates) and there was only one bed--Shinigami don't really need to sleep but Light doesn't know that and the bed is comfy so Ryuk doesn't fell the need to tell him.

They are both extremely bored. Ryuk is absolutely fascinated with this human--he may not be on Light's side (or so he claims) but the entertainment value is beyond his wildest dreams. He is smitten, even if he doesn't admit it. If Light is curious about something hell try at least once... Or Light may be trying to get free Shinigami eyes out of him and they catch feelings.

L enters the picture... Ryuk doesn't mind sharing 1. Hes immortal and bored and... two interesting humans! This is so cool! 2. Shinigami don't have the same ideas about monogamy. 3. Headcanons about Ryuk vary depending on if rule 36 valid up to this point in the ficverse. (I.e. Chad!Ryuk vs. Virgin!Ryuk)

L and Ryuk--L is very disturbed to learn that his case actually has a supernatural component and is more leery of Ryuk than of Light at first. This lasts for all of the moment it takes to remember that Light is Kira and Ryuk is afraid of tennis balls.

After 5 minutes of soul searching, L can admit to himself he has a thing for monsters--both internal and external.

Assuming they are all alive and this takes place in early canon this shippable version of L is probably more interested in having fun then bringing Kira to justice. Either that or he has become disillusioned with the status quo or hurt and and wants revenge to the point that he's willing to entertain Light's way of doing things.

If its post series, maybe Ryuk is bored so goes looking for Light in Mu and ends up pulling both Light and L out of Mu because their souls are intertwined and once restored as humans or Shinigami or something shippable in the afterlife then it's just learning to rely on each other as they forge a new arrangement in the Shinigami realm.

Top/bottom it's not assigned seating Regardless of bedroom positions or what arrangement they have out of the bedroom Light is the dom/one in charge of this arrangement in bed... but subs L and Ryuk unionize and gang up on him. Light is a dom in bed but not always a top. L as a sub but not always bottom. Ryuk as a service top or power bottom. Ryuk doesn't really feel pain like humans do and will go with whatever he and his partners find interesting.

Contrary to rumor Light and L aren't always fighting over who gets to top. Fighting is for chess matches, clashes of ideology, and the last chocolate eclaire--not the bedroom. Consent, safe words, and mutual respect are all very important.

(The safe word is vegetables)

Light is very dom. In every relationship before or since. Except there's Ryuk, looming over him. Making him feel kinda excited and confused and then theres that stupid sexy voice of his... But ryuk is the exception. (But he might let L fuck him if he asks nicely and submits to Kira's reign.)

When they sleep together Ryuk likes to keep them both wrapped in his wings. He likes being the little spoon sometimes though...

L gets Ryuk addicted to apple desserts.

Light frequently ends up cleaning up after the other two. Ryuk helps when he remembers but typically L is a brat.

Light: How can you stand to live like this?

Ryuk: I was formed in a dustbowl.

Light: Yes, it shows.

L [throwing candy wrappers on the ground]: Why are you doing that, that's what Watari is for?

Others who might potentially join the polycule under the right set of circumstances: B, Mikami, Aiber, Matsuda...

Some very noncanon AU ideas...

Superhero aus (current wips)

Winning and ruling the world(s) au (current wips)

Light gets in trouble (of either a mundane or supernatural variety) and Ryuk goes to L to ask for his help because he's the only human he can think of who would be clever enough to help Light and because of supernatural restrictions Ryuk can't save Light by himself. L is annoyed to have his fun ruined by having it confirmed that Light is Kira in this way, pissed that Light could get himself into a situation like this, and also pissed at himself that Ryuk doesn't even need to threaten him to want to risk everything to save him. After they save Light, L decides there's no point in continuing the kira case because it no longer interests him. He returns INTERPOLs money and after Light recovers from his ordeal the three go on vacation looking for something interesting but less hazardous than their previous ordeal. L becomes fascinated with the supernatural and wants to go ghost and cryptid hunting, seeking out ancient mysteries and Ryuk has plenty of leads in that. Light is still more interested in becoming god of the new world but "fine, if you guys insist..." (he doesn't want to admit he's having fun too). They drive around in L's pink crepe van huntjng ghosts, solving mysteries. Light occasionally writes the names of murderous jerks and people who are assholes to L thst they meet along the way while Ryuk laughs and L scowls in a mildly disapproving way but never really discourages him.

Au inverting the dynamics so its established relationship of lawlight first and then Ryuk joins the polycule: AU where Light and L are the same age and are childhood friends and when Light finds the Death Note they become Kira together. Ryuk is fascinated by them both and slowburn they realize their feelings for each other.

Or... Human!Ryuk and mundane college AU Ryuk is in a metal band and is probably studying art and helps rival law students Ligtt and L to chill... at least until Ryuk gets in trouble for drug possession and then Light and L compete to be his better defense counsel.

Monster AU werewolf or vampire au that's canon adjacent--Ryuk bites Light, Light goes on to monster better than Ryuk does then Light bites L, the monster hunter who falls for him...

7. Haunted house au

8. The quarantine au--Light is annoyed because now killing as Kira feels rather pointless. L is annoyed because this is boring. Ryuk is having a blast because they're playing with him a whole lot more. If L and Light doesn't just use the L screen, Ryuk is always in the background, having floating, juggling apples photobomb the zoom calls.

And suddenly Ryuk is important.

Ryuk runs errand for them because he has no danger of catching the plague. They play video games, watch movies, bitch at each other, and get into pointless arguments over stupid things.

Also L makes them custom masks modeled after Ryuk's fangs just because.

Other ideas:

Wammys house and lawryght

Option 1: Wammy's house tooth rotting fluff, adopting all the orphans

Option 2: Wammy's house evil, B was right. It's really just about being raised as a weapon. It's like the stormtrooper program for genius orphans that may not have actually been orphans before the institute took an interest in them.

Option 3: Wammy's house complicated. The institute really is trying to do better, is the best place for the kids and while not perfect its closest thing to home/family they have.

Lawryght and Morality

These 3 can be awful enablers of each other's worst qualities. Then again...

Light: Huh, Ryuk thinks we're going too far. Maybe we should rethink this.

L [already has the prisoner tied up and being forced to listen to polka music on repeat]: But where's the fun in that?

Finding a home together

With Kira and a Shinigami as his boyfriend L feels secure enough to do more normal things he's been denied all his life.

With Ryuks help, Light finds the names of all of L's major enemies and gets to writing in the Death Note.

Light: Be mad if you want. I'm not sorry.

L tries to be mad, and fails. He can't help but feel relieved that they're gone.

He might even entertain the thought of having a permanent address.

He still enjoys traveling though.

Also L gets a kitten

The cat loves chasing Ryuk's feathers.

The cat likes Light's lap the best because Light went out of his way not to look at the cat.

....

Ah, that was probably way too long. But thanks for letting me ramble! 😆

#death note #lawryght #detectivedeathgods #light yagami #ryuk #l lawliet #headcanons #headcanon #fanfic #fanfiction #comedy #crack fic #dn crack #crack treated seriously #lawlight #ryght #terraito #deathgods #death note au

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elizabethanism · 3 years

Text

This piece was originally written for the Asahi Shinbun newspaper, and published in the evening edition, on 13 May, 1977. It was reproduced, with the addition of the photo of Kurosawa and Tarkovsky in Solaris pamphlet. It was also published in Nihonkai Eigasha, June 1978. It was again published in Image Forum No. 80, March special issue, 1987, under a different title: Solaris: A Nostalgy toward Nature on Great Earth. Finally, the article appeared in The Complete Akira Kurosawa, Vol 6, Iwanami Shoten Publishers, Tokyo, 1988, with the original title, Tarkovsky and Solaris. The article was translated for Nostalghia.com by their Japan correspondent Sato Kimitoshi.

"Tarkovsky and Solaris" by Akira Kurosawa

I met Tarkovsky for the first time when I attended my welcome luncheon at the Mosfilm during my first visit to Soviet Russia. He was small, thin, looked a little frail, and at the same time exceptionally intelligent, and unusually shrewd and sensitive. I thought he somehow resembled Toru Takemitsu, but I don’t know why. Then he excused himself saying, “I still have work to do,” and disappeared, and after a while I heard such a big explosion as to make all the glass windows of the dining hall tremble hard. Seeing me taken aback, the boss of the Mosfilm said with a meaningful smile: “You know another world war does not break out. Tarkovsky just launched a rocket. This work with Tarkovsky, however, has proved a Great War for me.” That was the way I knew Tarkovsky was shooting Solaris.

After the luncheon party, I visited his set for Solaris. There it was. I saw a burnt down rocket was there at the corner of the space station set. I am sorry I forgot to ask him as to how he had shot the launching of the rocket on the set. The set of the satellite base was beautifully made at a huge cost, for it was all made up of thick duralumin.

It glittered in its cold metallic silver light, and I found light rays of red, or blue or green delicately winking or waving from electric light bulbs buried in the gagues on the equipment lined up in there. And above on the ceiling of the corridor ran two duralumin rails from which hanged a small wheel of a camera which could move around freely inside the satellite base.

Tarkovsky guided me around the set, explaining to me as cheerfully as a young boy who is given a golden opportunity to show someone his favorite toybox. Bondarchuk, who came with me, asked him about the cost of the set, and left his eyes wide open when Tarkovsky answered it. The cost was so huge: about six hundred million yen as to make Bondarchuk, who directed that grand spectacle of a movie “War and Peace,” agape in wonder.

Now I came to fully realize why the boss of the Mosfilm said it was “a Great War for me.” But it takes a huge talent and effort to spend such a huge cost. Thinking “This is a tremendous task” I closely gazed at his back when he was leading me around the set in enthusiasm.

Concerning Solaris, I find many people complaining that it is too long, but I do not think so. They especially find too lengthy the description of nature in the introductory scenes, but these layers of memory of farewell to this earthly nature submerge themselves deep below the bottom of the story after the main character has been sent in a rocket into the satellite station base in the universe, and they almost torture the soul of the viewer like a kind of irresistible nostalghia toward mother earth nature, which resembles homesickness. Without the presence of beautiful nature sequences on earth as a long introduction, you could not make the audience directly conceive the sense of having-no-way-out harboured by the people “jailed” inside the satellite base.

I saw this film late at night in a preview room in Moscow for the first time, and soon I felt my heart aching in agony with a longing to returning to the earth as quickly as possible. Marvellous progress in science we have been enjoying, but where will it lead humanity after all? Sheer fearful emotion this film succeeds in conjuring up in our soul. Without it, a science fiction movie would be nothing more than a petty fancy.

These thoughts came and went while I was gazing at the screen.

Tarkovsky was together with me then. He was at the corner of the studio. When the film was over, he stood up, looking at me as if he felt timid. I said to him, “Very good. It makes me feel real fear.” Tarkovsky smiled shyly, but happily. And we toasted vodka at the restaurant in the Film Institute. Tarkovsky, who didn’t drink usually, drank a lot of vodka, and went so far as to turn off the speaker from which music had floated into the restaurant, and began to sing the theme of samurai from Seven Samurai at the top of his voice.

As if to rival him, I joined in.

For I was at that moment very happy to find myself living on Earth.

Solaris makes a viewer feel this, and even this single fact shows us that Solaris is no ordinary SF film. It truly somehow provokes pure horror in our soul. And it is under the total grip of the deep insights of Tarkovsky.

There must be many, many things still unknown to humanity in this world: the abyss of the cosmos which a man had to look into, strange visitors in the satellite base, time running in reverse, from death to life, strangely moving sense of levitation, his home which is in the mind of the main character in the satellite station is wet and soaked with water. It seems to me to be sweat and tears that in his heartbreaking agony he sqeezed out of his whole being. And what makes us shudder is the shot of the location of Akasakamitsuke, Tokyo, Japan. By a skillful use of mirrors, he turned flows of head lights and tail lamps of cars, multiplied and amplified, into a vintage image of the future city. Every shot of Solaris bears witness to the almost dazzling talents inherent in Tarkovsky.

Many people grumble that Tarkovsky’s films are difficult, but I don’t think so. His films just show how extraordinarily sensitive Tarkovsky is. He made a film titled Mirror after Solaris. Mirror deals with his cherished memories in his childhood, and many people say again it is disturbingly difficult. Yes, at a glance, it seems to have no rational development in its storytelling. But we have to remember: it is impossible that in our soul our childhood memories should arrange themselves in a static, logical sequence.

A strange train of fragments of early memory images shattered and broken can bring about the poetry in our infancy. Once you are convinced of its truthfulness, you may find Mirror the easiest film to understand. But Tarkovsky remains silent, without saying things like that at all. His very attitude makes me believe that he has wonderful potentials in his future.

There can be no bright future for those who are ready to explain everything about their own film. —Akira Kurosawa.

#Asahi Shinbun #andrei tarkovsky #akira kurosawa #Solaris #Film #Cinema #Kino #men i love #film theory

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quadraphonictypewriter · 4 years

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An article from the June 1975 edition of Yugoslavia’s Dzuboks [Jukebox] magazine. The first four pages of the article talks about the Deep Purple concert there on March 16, 1975 in Belgrade, and also mentions the second Yugoslavian concert in Zagreb, and the press conference beforehand. The last two are an interview with Jon Lord.

Below the cut is the complete transcript of the article (which I got by typing the whole thing out and doing a translate-and-refine process).

Setlist of the Belgrade concert

THE ARTICLE:

Rock business knocked on our door • No more old and new "Deep Purple": it's just Richie, Jon, David, Glenn and lan • Surrounded by the irresistible pressure of a powerful sound

Five of Mercedes' limousines drove away on Tuesday, March 18, in the early afternoon, selected the members of Deep Purple to the Zagreb airport, from there they move on to Scandinavia (some joked, "Eurovision Song Contest"), and thus ended the beginning of their European tour, and the entire course of the Yugoslavian tour. Two cities, 12,000 people at concerts, big money circulation… the rock business has knocked on our door as well.

The predecessor of the band, whose exact number we could not find out (but there were over two dozen people), was in Belgrade as early as Friday to prepare the ground for the arrival of the stars. A day later, in the morning, the sports hall, "Pionir", began to take on the appearance of an exhibition hall - electronic equipment: from huge trucks, metal structures moved slowly to the stage, and on Sunday evening they rumbled so that your face cramps into a painful grimace.

The equipment, of course, needs its own attendants: there were so many that an uninformed passerby would surely think that every sound box was in the hands of some man.

But one should not exaggerate: the bulky guys in t-shirts with the inscription, “Deep Purple European Tour 1975," among whom the uninitiated tried to find the familiar faces of the musicians, are earning their bread honestly. It is a routine team so far in the service of many world groups, for which the foreplay of a rock concert means routine, while for the spectators in Belgrade everything looked quite spectacular.

HAPPY PRESS CONFERENCE

Our first meeting with Deep Purple took place on Saturday night, at the Hotel Yugoslavia, under the patronage of Jugoton. The Zagreb record company sold just over 100,000 copies of the album in Yugoslavia, so it decided to present the band with gold plates as a token of gratitude, at a special prepared press conference. Instead of the agreed 8 PM, the boys arrived two hours later: by that time, not all members were allegedly at the hotel. Some colleagues, however, had already sniffed out guitarist Blackmore, which later proved to be a successful catch, as the gloomy guy Ritchie didn't attend the press conference at all and completely distanced himself from the crowd forming around his colleagues.

While a large number of media representatives patiently waited for the conference to begin, many became bored and left. At 10 PM, David Coverdale, Glenn Hughes, and Ian Paice arrive. They sit behind the plush-covered table and look around the room, with the photographer pit and journalists looking at them with interest. At the very moment we begin to ask questions, Jon Lord appears to welcome applause. In the Deep Purple quintet, he seems to be the most familiar phenomenon.

UNIQUE DEEP PURPLE

During the conversation, Jon Lord often mentioned the names of Hughes and Coverdale, still considered newcomers to the group: “We have been together for about twenty months, actually two years, and we can't call them newcomers anymore. They are an integral part of Deep Purple. The change in lineup came naturally, as, after all, in all the periods of our career, all the ups and downs were natural. I doubt we ever did anything hastily. In that sense, Glenn and David come as an expected sequence of developments, events in our career."

"I guess we brought fresh blood to the group," Hughes interjects. "Like when charging a discharged battery. No more old and new; Deep Purple: it's just Ritchie, Jon, David, Glenn, and Ian!"

Jon Lord: “Seven years is a long period in this business. Whoever endures becomes an institution, and that implies the fact that you are domesticated everywhere. However, we cannot allow ourselves to constantly repeat things that have already been done. It would bore me, and the audience as well! At the same time, if we do things that we enjoy as creators, our audience will also enjoy it.

Success is a beautiful thing, but when it comes, the challenge disappears. With the arrival of Glenn and David, this desire to challenge with new achievements has returned to us and now I want to keep it…”

On the other side of the table, where Paice and Coverdale sit, the conversation unfolds in all directions. The members also mention too many (unimportant) things for us to follow. The conference has long since lost its atmosphere of formality. In fact, everyone is having fun as best they can, especially since the hall is now mostly filled with people who are neither journalists nor musicians: there are staff from the escort team, girls, observers, the organizer…. Five plates of sweets, arranged on a stand behind the table at which the conversation takes place, are moved to the other end of the hall to be handed out as a show for photo-reporters. Eventually, the foursome receive commemorative plaques, but instead of Blackmore, the fifth copy comes into the hands of the group’s personal manager.

A PIONEERING ROCK CONCERT

Belgrade's Pionir venue was allegedly not filled to the last seat, although the atmosphere in the hall has given the impression of a sold-out audience. Kragujevac's Smak has just done its task of warming up the audience, and now there is a break that, in fact, should not have happened, but in such circumstances, the audience should be given the opportunity to get excited while waiting for the stars.

They are located in a safe area, in the hallway below the stands, which are a bit shaky. Judging by the sounds coming from the locker rooms, the men are obviously having a good time, and I hear Jon Lord playing some kind of boogie-woogie on the electric piano. Only one photo-reporter manages to reach them: he ignores the ban from the corpulent bodyguard.

Then, at the invitation of the so-called "stage manager", Deep Purple leaves the room behind the escort, as he makes his way to the stage with a bit of unnecessary nervousness. In the almost complete darkness, no one notices them taking their places behind their instruments. It is only when the spotlights flash, as the group moves into “Burn” that it roars terribly and excitement overflows the masses. In the fog that covers the stage, David Coverdale plays with the microphone stand, Paice changes the sides of his drum set, and Hughes jumps around joining Coverdale as two voices. My first impression seems to be to move away from the incredible pressure of a powerful sound.

Everyone around me seems to be experiencing the same torture of "Heavy Metal!"

LORD: HEAVY METAL - A FICTIONAL TERM

And while the band begins "Stormbringer,” the second song of the set, it only amplifies the intensity of the sound and I remember Lord's statement from 24 hours ago: “I don't even know roughly what it means, heavy metal. The term was coined in the American press, and if you ask any English or American musician, everyone will tell you they don't know what it means. I don't like that label, in fact, I don't much like it. I understand that “heavy metal” means noisy music that hits you here, there, everywhere. But I always called it rock and roll. "Led Zeppelin," they were always just a rock band, we were always just a rock band."

But, in practice, when a man who is only at a distance of ten centimeters has to shout in your ear to be understood, such a statement does not seem at all convincing. Although Lord is partly right when he says, "The idea of a rock band, I suppose, is to affect the masses, but not on an intellectual, but on an emotional level."

That's just about the point of a "Deep Purple" concert. It provided an opportunity for an authentic experience of a rock event. You can listen to how much you like a live rock band, but there is an invisible line between the unacceptability of music that leaves you at a distance and the seemingly same stage event that you automatically get involved in, whether the process is due to simply belonging to a gathered audience, shouting, or trying to escape.

Deep Purple, meanwhile, goes from song to song from the albums Stormbringer and Burn. When you take a closer look at them individually, perhaps the most interesting is the withdrawn Blackmore, who prefers to play rather than present. He is a good, and more importantly, convincing guitarist, although he often uses effects of which, however, the most spectacular, i.e. breaking the instrument, he did not have the honor to present. At one point it seemed to me that he was ready for it too, but he wasn’t - or he simply refrained.

And Paice impresses with surety. Deep Purple in general are great instrumentalists, no doubt about it. Only, they do not perform a type of music that exhibits instrumental skills, so you become aware of this skill only with such direct contact. On the other hand, they are not a typical show-group, and keep their stage effects to the level of the standard mood of rock performers.

ZAGREB - AND GOODBYE

The Purple concert lasts approximately two hours. If in the first part the program remains more or less easily recognizable, over time it takes on a freer form of rock jam-session, with occasional solos by Lord, Paice and Blackmore. Hughes leads the conversation, Coverdale supports the temperament of the hall, as if he wants to give the audience signs to stay in an equally frenetic mood until the end.

In Belgrade, and especially under the roof of the great Zagreb sports hall, the audience, by the way, should not be encouraged to be in a good mood. And that the mixed enjoyment of the audience at the front of the stage should not take on a dimension of excess, the ready family of Purple's bodyguards, who will intervene only in extremely dangerous situations, are also worried.

I doubt that the Zagreb concert was significantly different from the Belgrade one, except that I gained an interesting experience, i.e. that the loudspeaker was louder in areas further away from the stage than directly in front of it. The function of this equipment seems to have been exhausted in maintaining the volume intensity, while the effort to tint the sound spectrum has shifted into the background. No wonder, then, that tinnitus has become an infection that will - if nothing else - remain the most memorable memory of this occasion.

Dražen Vrdoljak

Darko Glavan talks to Jon Lord, organist of the group “Deep Purple,” which recently visited Belgrade and Zagreb, showing us what a concert of real "hard rock" masters looks like.

The Deep Purple concert was one of the rare opportunities to feel the ritual of a real rock concert in Zagreb. The Deep Purple rockers, routine masters of "hard rock" have shown an excellent knowledge of the mechanics of arousing rock fans, consciously choosing the marginal area between music and stylized stage effects. The emphasis on movement and visual spectacle to some extent limited the members of the ensemble in more fully expressing the art of mastering instruments, which was expressed only in shorter instrumental sections.

The successful concert of Deep Purple argues two theses that I have been advocating for a long time.

The first of them, which could be seen without the performance of Deep Purple, is the expressed need of the domestic audience for performances of top world rock groups and their willingness to spontaneously, without any inhibitions, join as equal participants in such events. Deep Purple's performance confirmed that a significant section of rock music primarily relies on multimedia effects, in which one of the essential aspects of a creative act is an event in which the audience participates at the instigation of the performers. Such manifestations should not be seen as some kind of music or perhaps "applied" or "instructed" music, but as a special form of artistic activity that requires specific models of critical approach.

Before the performance, Deep Purple held a press conference at the Hotel Yugoslavia in Belgrade, where they were presented with commemorative plates handed to them by "Jugoton" for the 100,000 albums sold in Yugoslavia. On that occasion, we spoke with Jon Lord, the unofficial boss of Deep Purple. The author of the text, Drazen Vrdoljak, also took part in the discussion

ONLY ROCK AND ROLL - OTHER NAMES DO NOT FIT

Youth Weekly - Many critics term your style commitment as heavy metal music. Do you agree with such classifications and did you consciously initiate such a style of rock music?

Jon Lord - Let's face it, it's not a term we accept, or like... We actually hate it... I don't even have a rough idea of what the label "heavy metal" should mean... We've always been a rock band, “Led Zeppelin” have always been a rock band. I want to devalue that term, because I don't like it... it was invented by an American journalist, but I don't know a musician who could explain its exact meaning. I guess it’s kind of synonymous with the noise that haunts you here, there, everywhere. But we call it rock and roll, I've always called it rock and roll..

Youth Weekly - So the main goal of your ensemble was the creation of original excitement, early rock and roll, in the conditions of a more developed electro-acoustic technology?

Jon Lord - Yes ... it's rock music. It affects the masses on a level that is not intellectual but emotional. It's not just for our band - that's the essence of all rock bands.

Youth Weekly - The album Deep Purple in Rock is the biggest success of your career. How do you rate it today?

Jon Lord - That album matured in the band members for about two years ... it was a very significant album, it definitely established the band. Honestly, although I run the risk of sounding immodest, overpowering, I think Deep Purple In Rock is a masterpiece within the framework of rock. I think we said a lot about rock at the time and with that album.

Youth Weekly - On your first albums you performed many successful versions of songs by various composers, such as Donovan’s "Lalena", "Help" by Lennon and McCartney, "Hey Joe" and "River Deep, Mountain High," not to mention the first hits like "Hush" and “Kentucky Woman." Is it possible to include another such song in your repertoire even today?

Jon Lord - If you want to record someone else's song, then you have to add a new dimension to it, elaborate it musically in terms of your own taste and expression ... if that doesn't work for you, then it's better to record your own material.

Youth Weekly - So, at the moment, there is no more pronounced possibility to edit a composition by another author?

Jon Lord - In fact ... on the new album we will include another song ... I can't remember exactly which song it was, it was Ritchie's idea ... but it's not certain because if we don't succeed in properly performing a song, we would rather use our own. Take the Beatles for example .... their songs are very difficult to perform; after their performance you get the impression that they got the most out of it.

THE ROLE OF ROCK CRITICISM

Youth Weekly - What kind of music do you listen to in your free time?

Jon Lord - Diverse music, everything I can hear ... if you are an architect by profession then you are always trying to find out how your competitors build houses, if you are a musician then you have to constantly monitor how other musicians play music .... that is, after all, your job. Music is not heavenly, ethereal, it is something earthly just like building houses. Music is a craft in which you constantly have to improve and that is why it is very important to respect the work of other musicians.

Youth Weekly - Could you single out a few favorites?

Jon Lord - There are many of them, but most often it is not a specific soloist, composer or ensemble, but usually a few songs from a single album .... I rarely like a complete album, I usually single out something that later possibly affects my work ... .I like, for example, some numbers of Yes, and Led Zeppelin... but I don't have a favorite band. But, let's say, if I say I don't like a certain album, it doesn't automatically mean I think it's bad. This mistake is often made by critics - they attack an album because they didn't like it and thus declare it a loser and a failure. They should be more careful and thoughtful in such articles.

Youth Weekly - We in Yugoslavia have taken a large part of our knowledge about rock music from the English or American rock press. What is your attitude towards rock criticism?

Jon Lord - I'm not against criticism ... but there are many critics I can't trust anymore. I'm not saying this because of possible bad reviews from my group or my solo projects - I knew a lot of honest groups, which created and played great music and which were ruined due to the negative evaluations of some critics. The critic has one advantage over the musician: he cannot be answered to at once. This bothers me because when I see an article in the newspaper that I do not agree with, all I have to do is write a protest, but the moment it is published - the essence of the discussion loses its meaning and relevance. Led Zeppelin are one of the world's leading rock bands. But for concerts on their American tour, which is just underway, they regularly get bad reviews, even though every ticket is sold out for their performance ... They work hard every night, play for a long time, and can't see the meaning of the critics' negative attitude. But there are also people I still trust, for example, Chris Welch from Melody Maker.

Youth Weekly - How do you think a critic should act?

Jon Lord - You should comment, express constructively and honestly your personal opinion instead of presenting your views to the audience as an undeniable fact; it is not a fact, it is only a judgement.

I AM NOT A MUSIC MACHINE BUT A MUSICIAN

Youth Weekly - In addition to working within Deep Purple, you have realized several independent projects. Why did you decide on such appearances?

Jon Lord - As a member of a group, I have been working professionally for a little over seven years. There is a danger that we will turn into an institution, and the institution implies that you are established at all levels, while I am constantly striving for new challenges. This, after all, made us change our line-up at one point - but now we have to avoid the mistakes we made in the past, and that makes us not feel overconfident about ourselves. Personally, I do not like everything to flow easily, I am ready to face difficulties. You can’t play forever what you played yesterday. You would get bored, and if you get bored, the audience gets bored too. You try to surprise the audience, you try to surprise yourself if possible, and I think it is. If you are excited about what you are playing, you will also excite the audience. I don’t think music has ever stepped forward if not experimented. So, one has to experiment. A conscious dream that my experiments are not vital to the musical life of the world, but for me personally they are, and unfortunately, people are not currently given the opportunity for that, which I will certainly accept

Youth Weekly - What does your latest album Stormbringer mean to you?

Jon Lord - Stormbringer was recorded last summer in Munich. It is our second album with bassist Glenn Hughes and singer David Coverdale. The songs are close to what we have always wanted to play, a bit softer and more moderate than our characteristic sound. After Burn we got closer, so we were more relaxed. I think, after Machine Head, it’s our most successful album.

Youth Weekly - Plans for the future?

Jon Lord - The next album will be a bit more rocking, we will start recording it on April 10, again in Munich. This year we will perform a little less and play mostly in countries we haven't visited so far - in South America, Malaysia, Indonesia, etc. We are preparing for an English tour, but this year we are not planning a tour of the USA ... we need a vacation, we don’t want to be musical machines rather than musicians.

Darko Glavan

Recording: Vican Vicanović

#deep purple #jon lord #ian paice #david coverdale #glenn hughes #ritchie blackmore #deep purple mk iii #interview #article #kelly.txt

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chenoehi · 4 years

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My thoughts on Grammys, BTS, and the Academy's supposed 'diversity'.

Can't do 'Keep Reading' on mobile guys so if you don't care about it keep on scrolling.

The only BTS music I thought might have a slim chance for a nomination was "Boy With Luv (ft. Halsey)" as a pop duo collaboration. That was it. Anything more than that was just wishful thinking.

The Academy (both Grammy and Oscar's) talk about diversity when controversy comes up, they give some Black artists and actors awards, they look like try-hards, and then the next year they repeat history. Each year more men continue to be nominated than women, even in years that women dominated the industry. Each year artists who push boundaries continue to be overlooked or less favored than more traditional artists. Each year recognition continues to be bulk awarded to the most basic artists with the most basic styles with the most basic music, often times the same (mostly white) artists each year. No one get me started on always having to award artists like Taylor Swift or Ed Sheeran or Adele each year they make music, despite whether or not what they put out is actually good, original, or better than what they did the year before. I'm not singling them out, but I think they illustrate my point. I will make one exception for Adele because she is a phenomenal singer, although I did not personally believe 25 deserved to sweep; I've been told by fans that Ed Sheeran is a good performer, so I'll give him that but I'll keep my thoughts of his music and the rest of my opinions to myself. But I get tired of artists like these getting nominated every time or almost every time they put music out and then getting awards every time they're nominated, hence sweeping. It gets tiring when the music that frequently-awarded artists put out sucks and they keep raking noms because of who they are.

There is absolutely nothing BTS or any other Asian et al. artists can do to beat that system. None of the criticism in the world has changed it thus far and I don't know that anything ever will. It's a hard institution to tear down. They will use "diverse" artists for ratings by inviting them and having them hand out awards and, in BTS's case, making such a big deal as to even display their Grammy outfits in the museum, and then they will refuse to nominate them.

It's a back handed compliment to non-Western artists. The Academy is saying they're good enough to help win over a predominantly younger and more diverse generation of viewers but they're not good enough to be awarded for their achievements.

What's worse is, the only expectation I had was for the Academy to invite them as performers despite whatever minuscule nomination they might have garnered, because it's been clearly hinted they would attend another Grammys and the Academy would frankly be fools to not have them perform after the shitstorm going on the pop industry rn. If you know anything about the Taylor Swift situation (you may not be able to tell which one because there are always so many) who knows if she will be performing this Grammys, and her medley of her songs was supposedly going to be a highlight; something's always stirring things up so who knows if certain artists don't end up going at all or bow out of performing. Ariana Grande bailed on the 2019 Grammys because the Grammy producer wouldn't let her perform songs she wanted to, and these kinds of disputes happen and artists who are nominated become no-shows. So, the opportunity to invite a group with a huge following, who have already proved to increase ratings, seems like a sure move right?

But BTS can't exactly perform at the Grammys if they're not nominated for a Grammy; I don't see them doing a tribute any time soon either. And if the Academy even dares to invite them at this point for a performance it will be an insult and a transparent ratings grab. BTS may still go to avoid appearing as if their pride has been wounded or just because they want to go regardless. They know better than their fans how it feels to lose, to be discarded, to be overlooked. This is happening to them first and foremost, not us. And if they decide that they will deal with this the same way they dealt with all their other struggles, to push on, perform for their fans, and use the opportunity of exposure for what it's worth, then support them and their decision. I, for one, won't be watching it live regardless of whether they are there. If all the Academy wants is ratings from BTS fans when they are fine with treating them like garbage, they won't get ratings from me.

I fully believe that the Academy is not only discriminatory to non-Western, non-white artists but that failing to nominate BTS for any award at all is out of fear. Fear that their traditional, safe artists will be offended and boycott the awards if they lose out on a nomination, fear that their fanbases will retaliate, but more importantly, fear that BTS or any other gigantic force of a non-Western artist may be a shoe-in for whatever award they are nominated for and potentially sweep if allowed to compete with all other artists. This comes after BTS won Best Group at the Billboard Music Awards this year. Their first time being nominated for a major U.S. award category. It wasn't even a Best New Artist schtick. It was a main category and they were up against established, popular, Western groups like Imagine Dragons and Maroon 5. It comes on the heels of Super M earning number 1 debut album and beginning a successful tour they are on right now. It comes after Blackpink performed at Coachella and toured the country. It comes after NCT 127 and ATEEZ toured the country. Even TXT, a months old group, had successful showcases in major U.S. cities.

The Academy is too racist and xenophobic to acknowledge Asian artists--they always have been and they always will be. The most diversity we'll see is the nomination of Black artists, but still only 2 were nominated for SotY whereas 4 were nominated for RotY. I don't know the exact numbers, but any time I've ever kept up with the awards I don't see very many other diversity groups being represented in nominations either, such as artists with disabilities or LGBT artists who have different gender expressions and identities or sexual orientations that impact their music, performance, and artistry. Halsey's intimate performance at the BBMAs with that female dancer was huge because that's just not something that's really done. Still. And any time it does happen it's a Britney and Madonna moment all over again, it's a fetish to everyone. Progress has been made but it's very minuscule in comparison to the 'diversity' touting approach they've taken.

I'll just leave the words of this morning's Rolling Stone article here:

So, the Academy selectively extends its diversity goodwill just as they always have. No shade to the artist, but just using this example of Lil Nas X versus BTS, you have a young Black, gay artist who started his career in late 2018. He's nominated for some of top Grammys with a minimal discography--an 18-minute EP. This is groundbreaking, it's great. BTS, a 6-year-old established group of young Korean artists who break nearly every record there is and dominated Western charts this spring, and they continue to chart Billboard and Western streaming platforms. They earn no nominations.

The two artists ironically happen to have a collaboration in the form of Old Seoul Road.

Congrats to Lizzo and Lil Nas X (that's not shade at Billie btw) but this tweet from the New York Times is so unbelievably misguided because the Academy's conception of diversity is like seasoning with mostly salt, a little pepper and no cayenne (hate to use that analogy but am I wrong?):

I do appreciate that some artists who don't get nominated a lot got nominations, but looking at the list of top awards I just can't imagine how some of those got through. And I listen to a lot of different music and some BTS stans may have know idea who the fuck Bon Iver is and I'm not saying they don't deserve nominations period, but when you look at the list it's just mind boggling how a song like BWL that was listened to and appreciated like a summer anthem would be could not be included in that mess. (Vampire Weekend for Album of the Year, what, who the fuck, is that, they've been around since 2006, that's when I listened to nothing but metal and rock and I don't, know who the fuck this obscure band is? I may have heard of them once eons ago but they apparently made no impression? I'm sorry). I won't go as far as to say BWL was a Western summer anthem because much of the gp still doesn't know them, this is true. But apparently that's never stopped the Academy before. Bonus, anyone remember Bon Iver winning Best New Artist over Katy Perry all those years ago? No, just me? Good times. (Respect to Bon Iver, I'm just making a point that a lesser known artist won that award over a popular artist and the public went "waH?" Bon Iver being nominated for Record and Album of the Year this time honestly has the same effect as before because what is Hey, Ma even. I listen to Indie music so. What it is.)

Anyway. That's my thoughts. Expect nothing and you won't be disappointed is a myth. You will always have room to be disappointed in humanity.

Edit: while I'm at it, a big, massive fuck you to the Academy for never nominating Halsey for Without You.

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agent-yolk-writes · 5 years

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Friends Like You and Us - Venom!Reader - Ch. 6

I really gotta post this after I updated it on AO3 goddamn

In today’s episode: The gang puts too much thought into planning, you have terrible codenames, and you wonder if the circus is in town.

Don’t forget to reblog so others can see it! If you want something featured, don’t be afraid to drop an ask. We’re almost around the halfway point and it’s all downhill from here. Get your thoughts in now or forever hold your peace,

AO3 Version | Masterlist (TBD)

After scrambling to figure out a plan and translating interdimensional slang, the plan goes as follows:

1. You enter the building with Ham in a backpack. Peni has hooked all of you guys with little telecommunicators that can fit into your ear. They look like they can be passed off as the cool new earbuds you’ve seen your classmates wearing.

1a. Peni, SP//dr, and Noir will be outside as backup should anything happen along the way.

2. Get through the guards by showing your ID, which indicates a trusted employee of the building, Mary, has granted an outsider, you, permission to enter the building and their individual office. That’s it, that’s your only access.

3. While you do what your aunt asked you, Ham goes in the vents and finds a way into the Alchemax section upstairs. There he’ll find anything that could help figure out what happened to Spider-Man.

From there, depending on the situation, it could go two ways.

4a. Ham retraces his footsteps in the vents and gets back to your aunt’s office.

4b. If Ham needs to be recovered, you’ll “accidentally” stumble into Alchemax, claim you’re trying to find the bathroom, to retrieve Ham and any data he managed to recover.

5. Leave without raising any suspicions, if possible.

A simple plan in five or so steps. You’re taking the usual subway route to her office with Ham squished inside your mini backpack. It’s uncertain what Peni and Noir are doing above ground, but you could imagine them hopping between buildings in a cool montage like that cool cartoon of those ninja lizards. Thankfully this cart was almost packed to the brim, so no one can see, Ham included, tendrils wrapping around your hand and giving a comforting squeeze as if someone was actually holding your hand.

You got this. We believe in you.

I...I dunno. It sounded too easy in my apartment.

We can handle anything that comes our way.

“I sure hope so.” You muttered, glancing at the people close by to see if they’re looking at you. Swinging your bag around so it’s hanging in the front, you subtly zipped open the bag to look at the cartoony companion. At the sign of first light, he hisses at the sudden stimulation by squinting his eyes for a few seconds.

“Are we there yet?” He asks, a bit bored.

You glanced over at the display showing how many stops are left. “Not for another stop or so. How are you feeling in there?”

Ham sighs at the response. “I knew I should’ve brought something to read.” He pulls out a sleeping mask and puts it over his eyes.

“It’s either this or waste SP//dr’s fuel but doing about three trips back and forth.” You could feel some glances over your way, so you lower your voice a bit. “Anyone with a phone is going to post it on Twitter and we really don’t want that. Especially if it’s going to be on Insider Edition tonight.”

Your communicator buzzes to life, even with all the concrete around you.

“Actually, it’s powered by the psychic link between me and my spider friend in the suit.” Peni corrected you.

“There’s a spider...in the suit?” You said with genuine surprise.

“Hey now, you didn’t ask.” Well, she has a point there. “Oh heads up, here comes your stop.” As if on cue, the overhead speaker announces your stop. It doesn’t help your heart kicking up a notch in anticipation. A thousand scenarios are running through your head as you tried not to give Ham a whiplash putting your bag in its proper place. You even straighten out your blouse as you exited the subway train. Despite only being bonded for a week, it felt strange wearing clothes outside of your symbiote. All there’s left is to pray to your not-so empty head that everything can and will go right for a simple infiltration.

“This is Black Spider. I’m in position.”

“Spider Pig here. Let’s get this show running.”

“Mecha Spider is ready when you are!”

“This is Classic Spider, cruising for a bruising on the bench.”

…

You should’ve opposed to using codenames. This is an in and out, not an actual heist. If anything, you could’ve at least used different spiders to call each other by. It’d make sense if you refer to yourself as, for example, Black Widow rather than Black Spider. In the end, it’s all apples to pears.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled on the ID card you knew was on you just to make sure it's really there. It doesn’t go bad for another year, so they can’t stop you by saying it’s expired. If one of your aunt’s coworkers spotted you, then the suspicious glares from security will weaken. They swap floors every six months or so for security purposes. You haven’t been in the building proper since...ten months ago. Hopefully, that retired Sergeant got mobilized to the main floor. If he got moved to Alchemax, then you’ll have to pray for Ham’s safety-

Said spider-pig poked his head out. “What about my safety?”

“Nothing.” With Venom’s help, your arm pushed your smuggled package back into your back of the cramped bag. With Venom’s sixth sense you can almost feel Peni and Noir staring down from the roof of a neighboring building. “Let’s go.” With a shaky step, you begin your ascent up the stairs and entered the revolving door.

To your left, you see the guest desks and the CCTVs in an open room behind the woman at the desk. She had her head down, so she’s probably on her phone. Directly in front of you is the series of elevators being guarded by a single security guard, a glorified elevator worker if anything. You vaguely remember him, but it might not be the same vice versa. Through the handful of people coming in and out, you make your move to the first elevator open.

Your aunt’s workplace is one of the higher floors, so it’s going to be a while in this metal death trap. It became empty quicker than you expected, not that you don’t mind.

“What’s your status Black Spider, Spider Pig?” Peni said through the communicator.

“Entering the building was a success, no complications so far.” You whispered back. You try not to stare at the camera you know is staring at you in the corner. ”Pretty much going to be a smooth ride up.” Was the last thing you said before said smooth ride came to a halt at a different floor.

Oh no, someone else is coming up.

If you don’t make eye contact and shuffle to the side, maybe they won’t-

“Oh look, it’s you.” Oh no, it’s her.

You forced your eyes to look at one and only Stacy Adams from your school. She’s a senior, just a year above you. She’s one of the most popular people in your school and like every high school movie out there, she thinks she’s the queen of the institution. The only reason she could be here is that senior intern experience your school offers where seniors spend three of the five day school week learning. To your chagrin, it looks like today is one of those days.

She hates your guts for some reason. You couldn’t recall what you did to piss her off. Maybe she got jealous of you a guy that just so happens to be a friend of your friend. You did, however, ate her boyfriend aka the top varsity football player bound for Ohio State, so there’s that. In your defense, he attacked you.

We should eat her as well.

Shush, you.

You eyed the security camera in the corner.

Not yet.

“Hey, Stacy...weird meeting you here, huh?” You mustered up whatever you can to pretend you’re happy to see her.

“It’s weird meeting you here.” She shoots back. “Should I report you for skipping school to trespass?”

“Unlike your daddy’s money, I actually know people here.” You replied before you could process it. So much for putting up a fake front.

Stacy, of course, wasn’t having it. “You don’t need to know people if they’re hiring a fucking clown.”

“A fucking clown? Oh wait, is that who you’re seeing after Kyle basically ghosted you? Wooow Stacy, how faithfu-“ You didn’t get a chance to finish it when a handmade sharp contact with your cheek. You weren’t sure if the sting was from the palm or the sharp nails she raked across your skin for extra damage.

Your heart was beating so loud in your ears. Whether it was Venom’s boiling rage or your own, it almost affected the next step you were about to do. If it wasn’t for Peni bringing you back to Earth with, “-ck Spider, is everything alright in there?” in your ear, you would be deep in bloodshed.

Instead, you calmly removed your earpiece and stuffed it into your bag. You hope she notices the unhuman bend of your arm.

“Look, I don’t have time for you.” You said lowly, voice borderline a growl. “I’m going to do my thing, you’re gonna do your thing, and then you’ll continue to pop your gum loudly every time I even blink in your direction. Got it?”

Stacy stares at you like you grew two heads on the spot. Your cheek tickles a bit as Venom heals the scratch marks.

She started sputtering some nonsense to try and get something in before the elevator finally slowed down to your aunt’s floor. Time to finally get out of this cramped box.

But first…

As you took a step out of the elevator, you couldn’t help but turn around to face her one last time.

“Oh, by the way…” You said with a growing devious grin. “Kyle’s brain was absolutely delicious.” Venom couldn’t help but join in at the last second, but it got the results that you wanted. Stacy tried charging at you but the closing doors were quicker. You could hear her banging at the door all the way up. Ah, you’ll remember the face she made. You wonder if her boyfriend had that same expression.

Ham decided to pop his head out once you used your aunt’s card to get into the bathroom. He had a sponge lodged into his ears that managed to take out by pulling it out of one ear with a comical pop. You’re too

“Geez, took you long enough. Thought the catfight was gonna take foreeeever.” He complained.

“Well sorry for having enemies, I guess.” You replied as you readjusted your communicator. “This is Black Spider. Um...Sorry that I went AWOL there. Bumped into a rather unpleasant classmate of mine in the elevator.”

“About time! Thought about going in there thinking you croaked.” Noir’s voice crackled through his mic.

“Weren’t you able to hear anything from Ham’s mic?”

Peni answered your question with, “The microphone is designed to cancel out any background noise so whoever’s talking into it can be heard. You’ll never find anything better for noise cancellation!”

The wonders of the future could not be thanked enough.

You pushed Ham’s head back in the bag at the sound of the bathroom door unlocking for someone else. This is your cue to leave and head to your aunt’s office.

The first phase of the plan is now successful. Now that the second part is about to be achieved, you’re looking forward to the idea of getting away without being caught. Well, you almost did, but that doesn’t count in your books.

It should be smooth sailing from here, right?

...Right?

#spiderverse #spidersona #x reader #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse x reader #spiderman into the spiderverse & reader #spiderverse x reader #venom x reader #venom & reader #venom symbiote x reader #venom symbiote & reader #venom/reader #venom symbiote/reader #reader insert #my writing #friends like you and us

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quazartranslates · 3 years

Text

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH39

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 39: Star Death Reality Show (XXII)

This sound was like a signal to escape. Janet, Alex, Jing Siyu and Jing Sixue ran away in fear, wishing to escape to the ends of the earth.

"Take Lara away, get back! I’ll lead it away, I can deal with it!" Qi Leren kicked Du Yue and told him to act quickly. He shot at the monster's head to attract its attention, and prepared to take it somewhere far away and solve it with his own hands.

The monster came out. The swollen amphioctopus broke from its host body, and Francis's body was like a deflated balloon hanging off the amphioctopus, but this space alien had revealed its true appearance—an odd tentacled creature shaped like an octopus, which was covered in Francis's blood, and had changed from a mass of parasitic "seeds" in the body to a dangerous predator full of viscous body fluids.

Its speed was extremely fast. After breaking free from the shackles of the human body, it rushed toward Qi Leren at an amazing speed!

Qi Leren stopped shooting, picked the flashlight up off the ground, sped up his strides with all his strength, and rushed through the corridor deep in the institute at an inhuman speed!

The boundary between prey and hunter was difficult to distinguish. Both sides were sure that they were the hunter, but it wasn’t known who would die.

The S/L Data’s thirty seconds had passed. At this time, Qi Leren, who didn't have an immortal body, could only rely on his own abilities to handle this difficult opponent. At a gallop, Qi Leren realized that the distance between the octopus and him was getting farther and farther, and he was running fast enough to get rid of this fast-moving monster after having broken the shell.

He looked back, glancing out of the corner of his eye. This monster, which looked like an octopus, came after him as quickly as if it was sliding on the ground. Fortunately, it still didn't run as fast as he did. Seeing that there was a T-shaped intersection ahead, he immediately cheered up and prepared for the final battle.

Three, two, one, do it!

Qi Leren bit the ring off his hand grenade and threw it behind him. He pushed his running body harder, jumping around a 90-degree corner, and hugged his head on the ground.

Boom—

A huge explosion sounded around the corner, and the flames from the explosion lit up the whole passageway. Even Qi Leren, who was lying on the ground, felt the immense heat and shaking, and countless debris blew out and sprayed straight into the corridor ahead. Hiding in the vertical position of the T-shaped corridor, Qi Leren survived the explosion unharmed.

It was over.

Qi Leren stood up and was about to lift his foot to go out when Chen Baiqi's warning came to mind again. He breathed a sigh of relief, kept on alert, and carefully stepped around the corner with his gun drawn.

The explosion had made this area ahead unrecognizable. The body of the octopus had been blown apart, and several tentacles were thrown on the metal wall, sliding down slowly together with mucus, dragging out a scarlet liquid trail. With the loss of its tentacles, the octopus would only move helplessly a few times before falling to the ground completely dead.

All the four mature amphioctopuses had been dealt with, which meant that requirements could be almost declared for this task. Even if there were still a few newly spawned parasitic amphioctopuses in the contestants, they could be easily distinguished by detecting them with the instruments. But to kill people... Qi Leren imagined the scene with a heavy heart.

Once parasitized, it was hopeless. All he could do was let the parasitized people die happily.

Qi Leren pursed his lips and felt a little dry cough. His throat choked by the smoke was also a little painful, but it was still within tolerance.

He should find Du Yue and meet with him first. Qi Leren thought about it and walked along the way back.

At the moment he walked around the corner, the flashlight in Qi Leren’s hands suddenly swept onto a reflective object. When he looked intently, it was a half-open iron door, just at the end of the corridor where he had escaped the explosion just now. That is, at the bottom of this T-shaped intersection, there was no other fork in the road at its end, only a lonely door.

There was no sign on the door, no words, no letters, no special symbols. It was just a heavy iron door, half-hidden, and it was dark inside.

Qi Leren's heartbeat suddenly slowed, and his intuition whispered vaguely in his ear, encouraging him to move forward.

He pushed open the door, and the flashlight lit up the dark space. This small room was an office with desks, bookshelves, and office chairs.

There was also a computer: the same laptop that Qi Leren had been worried about, afraid of, and looking forward to.

His heart jumped wildly. Qi Leren took a deep breath, slammed the door, rushed to the computer in three steps and two steps, took out the prepared mobile power source from the item bar and connected it, and pressed the power-on button with trembling hands.

When the familiar boot screen appeared, Qi Leren clenched his hand and couldn't help tapping on the desk. Hurry up, open it quickly, and let him try again. Could he play Nightmare Game again? He had too many doubts that he needed this game to answer.

After the boot was finished, the mouse cursor moved to the icon of Nightmare Game and double-clicked.

The game interface appeared, and Qi Leren's heart was about to jump out of his throat. He held his breath and moved the cursor to "Save and Load".

Countless save files jumped out, arranged in reverse chronological order, and the last one was in the chapel in the Village of Dusk. At that time, he had gone through rows of old pews and was faced with a choice in the depths of the church: to the left or to the right.

He had saved the file, then walked through the door to the right, received the Holy City task, and had his first death there. In the real Nightmare World, he had chosen to go left, and then he met Ning Zhou in the graveyard outside the door, who had come to sweep Maria’s grave.

What if this time, he chose to turn left in the game? Would he meet Ning Zhou?

This problem had once bothered Qi Leren, but now he could prove it.

[…Reading save file, LOADING……]

[File read completed. Player "Passerby A", welcome back to the Nightmare Game.]

In the game, Qi Leren’s character named "Passerby A" went to the left door under his command. Qi Leren hardly dared to breathe, and countless chaotic thoughts berated him. For the first time, he was strongly aware of the fear that overthinking could bring.

The wooden door opened, and the game entered a cutscene animation. He could no longer manipulate his character, but watched him walk forward.

Outside the door was a gravel path occupied by shrubs and weeds. He went straight ahead. All the greenery in this sunset did not give a feeling of peacefulness, but instead filled his with anxiety and unease.

Qi Leren didn't know whether he wanted to see Ning Zhou in the game or not. His yearning heart was looking forward to meeting him again, even if it was separated by a cold screen. But reason made him resist. He didn't want to see Ning Zhou as an NPC in this game, because he didn't dare to ponder the hidden meaning behind it.

No matter whether he wanted it or not, in the dim afterglow of the sunset, Qi Leren still saw a figure standing in front of the tombstone.

So familiar, because he was so deeply imprinted in his mind, but so strange, because they were separated by the layer of a cold screen.

The figure appeared on the screen murmuring and, just like every NPC, the lines were displayed on the screen:

[Mom, I’ve fallen in love with someone I shouldn't love. He’s made me confused...]

Qi Leren's eyes had just seen this sentence when the words were blurred instantly.

It turned out that on that day, before he had walked from this church and seen Ning Zhou, Ning Zhou had once said such a thing in front of Maria's tombstone.

This was a lost Ning Zhou. At that time, he had not yet firmly believed that he would be willing to exile himself for his love. He was hesitating, unsure and uneasy, but he had no one to talk to. He could only come to his mother's grave and tell her quietly, even if he couldn't get an answer.

Qi Leren covered his face in front of the computer, tears flowing down his fingers and wetting the keyboard. He never knew he was such a fragile person; even if it was just a few words he had never heard before, they made him burst into tears.

He wanted to rush into the screen, embrace that lonely back, and comfort the lonely wandering soul.

But his approach would only wake up the lost man.

"Who’s there?" Ning Zhou appeared again on the screen.

Qi Leren woke up from grief. Ning Zhou had discovered his existence!

He couldn't make any answer. It was just a game with pre-written dialogue. When the game didn't give him options, he couldn't say anything.

They looked at each other without saying a word. They were as unfamiliar as two strangers.

They were indeed strangers.

Footsteps came from behind, and the Qi Leren in the game turned his head. Along this path full of weeds and shrubs, he saw a man walking towards them, bathed in the sunset from where he had come.

His words were also subtitled on the screen: "Passerby A? Ning— Ning Zhou? Why are you here?"

At this moment, Qi Leren was shaking and unable to breathe.

A familiar person stood there, looking surprised and shyly at Ning Zhou behind him.

That was himself.

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[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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tariqk · 4 years

Text

More Minecraft grumping

Cut to spare the dash.

Things I really don’t like about Minecraft, honestly:

The early survival game is inaccessible

Here’s the thing about early Minecraft survival: you’re plonked in the middle of the wilderness, with absolutely nothing, and literally the first thing you got to do is punch a tree and find a safe place to spend the night before you get beaten up by monsters.

That’s it. You could spend the night hiding in a hole, probably crafting and mining something in the middle of the night, while hostile mobs wander areas that aren’t lit up, waiting to, basically, kill you. And you’ll stay in this precarious situation for at least a few days, as you 1) make a place to sleep, 2) build shelter, 3) get supplies to venture out, and 4) don’t die, because if you die, you lose your stuff.

This is a game marketed to mass audiences. For children, even. And it can be so manifestly unpleasant I have no idea how it got popular so quickly.

I don’t actually have a problem with this, actually! I positively enjoyed some of that experience, and some of that tension makes for some fun gameplay and entertaining stories — like the one where I found a white horse, tamed it, named it, and then proceeded to take it to a foolhardy exploratory quest before it fell under a hail of arrows (RIP Binky 2019–2019).

And I don’t even have a problem with the learning curve, because I’ve learned and thrived in environments like Dwarf Fortress. I use emacs for gods’ sake. Low accessibility and high difficulty environments are my jam.

But getting here involved more than a dozen start-and-stop moments of gameplay where I literally quit the game, deleted the save, and went to bed in disgust. It’s stupid. It’s aggravating. I can’t believe that this was ready for mass market, what with the lack of telegraphing and the pretty damn high stakes from the start, that the only people who’d play this would be gamers who are familliar with the tropes, already know a little about Minecraft lore, and are invested to try and try again.

To be fair, they’ve made some things easier: they’ve included guidebooks with recipes to automatically load items you already know into the crafter, there’s an official guide online, and if need be, you have cheats. But consider:

If you need to cheat to get the game accessible, there is something wrong with the core game loop.

You can’t create a guidebook and then rely on players gaining “enough experience” to access them to make the game more accessible.

You can’t just bloody have a guide that a person needs to open a browser, or buy the book, to get by.

Survival is very much a non-starter if Minecraft is your first serious game, you get frightened or suffer from anxiety in trying to stay alive, and you have difficulty optimizing your moves to get the best result.

Redstone is a mess

Actually, I have no opinions on how redstone is implemented on a purely technical basis. It’s a system, it’s mostly Turing complete, that's… interesting. What pisses me off is how the Technical Minecraft community is… well, frankly, hard to get into, hard to gain proficiency in, and looks fairly clannish, insular and… honestly a drag to Minecraft’s further development, if Minecraft was to get developed further.

Like I’ve talked about this before, but the existence of the Technical Minecraft is entirely dependent on a class of software behavior that you could make an argument are actually bugs. Zero-tick pistons, anomalous sticky piston behavior with blocks, quasi-connectivity… these weren’t intended consequences for the developers of Minecraft, and they’ve said so before.

Say what you want, but honestly if the only reason why a developer reverted a bug-fix because a bunch of small, clannish, insular, and loud minority were making complaints, I’d honestly ask how much value those people should have in how you run your business.

But that isn’t all. I had taken to writing down notes because I wanted to figure out how certain redstone constructions worked, and even the simplest designs suffer from the following:

There appears to be no standard way of sharing schematics and designs for redstone creations.

Most of the instructions are in video, which is a terrible medium to instruct in, because you don’t have a way to skim through the resource, the presenter literally doesn’t have to say anything more than what they do on video (and thus can be as vague and contradictory as they want).

Most of the instructions are in the nature of, do everything this way, except this section, in which you need to do (flurry of movement as the presenter puts in a slightly different design that you better be able to catch). It’s “simple”. No, it’s fucking not.

Another thing that bothers me is that, fundamentally, most redstone designs are hand-crafted, which is mind-boggling. For one, if you are just starting redstone in Minecraft, you’re going to be sitting with the same toolkit that the most experienced users of redstone are. You’ll still be laying down redstone lines and putting in comparators. You’ll still be dealing with the janky and inconsistent behavior that experienced redstoners are. You’d still be debugging your creations with the same tools experienced redstoners are. And like, you’d be doing it with nary any institutional or technical support, because… reasons?

It’s like you progress from electrical engineering to low-level programming to high-level programming to virtual machines to virtualization… so that you can get back to electrical engineering again? Using skills that may or may not transfer well into other fields? Why?

And there are consequences for this as well, which I’ll get to in a bit, but also, I need to talk about how the community gets around this problem, which is basically…

Modded Minecraft replaces the problems vanilla has with other problems

Specifically? One of them is performance.

I don’t know if you’ve tried 1.12.x and then compared it with 1.15.x, but the differences are night and day. Like, I run a potato computer, mostly because we’re broke af and don’t have the scratch for a l33t gaming machine, but… well, yeah. What’s occasionally janky in 1.15 is literally unplayable in 1.12. What takes 5 minutes to load in vanilla takes up to thirty minutes in modded Minecraft.

And sure, this will sort itself out as modders eventually take advantage of the new architecture and optimizations within 1.15, but in some other ways, it won’t. Mostly because the nature of modded Minecraft is that it literally has to interface with the literal source files to generate or insert new code, and since mod-makers don’t have access to the code pipeline and the tools that they can use to optimize the game, well…

And we’ve only talked about the Java Edition, and not Bedrock, which I suspect will be even more tightly incorporated into the platforms that it runs, at the cost of having less open infrastructure, and as a result, more consequences to mod performance and stabilty.

But another thing that bothers me about modded Minecraft is how so many mods are just… Minecraft, but more. More power, more game mechanics, more technical additions, more mobs, more enchantments… but half the time the resulting game feels bloated and overly-complex.

This is funny because it literally sounds like I’m contradicting myself over the fact that early Minecraft survival had too little in terms of letting itself be accessible, so you’d think I’d welcome mods that worked out some of these gaps with things that made player lives easier.

But what I’m looking for is a realignment of how the game approaches players, not as a punitive, inaccessible system where difficulty is a mask for what is ultimately shallow gameplay, and what we get from modded Minecraft is more stuff. Sometimes, in some modpacks, just so many things that several mods do the same thing that the other mods do.

It’s kind of telling that every time I see a modpack that includes Draconic Evolution the first thing I think of is I better not get into Draconic early, because if I do the rest of the game will literally break, because I have no idea what the hell the mod creators are doing there, but when your damage scales allow you to three-shot the Ender Dragon final boss, that mod breaks the game. Doesn’t matter if you make a boss that’s three times tougher than, say, the Wither. Game’s fucking broken.

There are some good approaches: FTB Academy and other questbook mods do give players a chance to orient and align themselves with what to do, without forcing players to have to go through the anxiety and terror of not knowing what to do, and keeps them engaged far longer than they should be, but honestly… ultimately what you’re doing is more stuff, just through the lens of what the mod wants you to do.

Plus FTB Academy has Draconic and you can literally two-shot the Guardian of Gaia, which is supposed to be so tough that metal music starts playing and it can cause effects that are twice as worse as the Wither… well.

Is it just me or are there only dudes in this party?

If I have to count the number of people who weren’t cis men or boys in the time I’ve been lurking around Minecraft’s YouTube channels, I can quite literally say that the number would be less than half a dozen.

That’s very bad. When your visible community is 95% cis dudes and everyone else aren’t there, it tells me that:

The game alienates literally everyone who isn’t a cis dude

The player base are driving away anyone who isn’t a cis dude

Part of the reasons for #1 are, well, I’ve mentioned them above: it only really allows people who have the time and wherewithal to plug into an activity that offers no real benefit outside of the game itself, most of the fantasies it caters to is power fantasies of vanquishing more and more powerful opponents, and there’s barely any community support for newcomers.

So that’s no surprise that the kind of people who are popular Minecraft YouTubers are dudes who are either bad at explaining what they do, are inarticulate, or… well, to not put it too unkindly, dicks. I mean, Minecraft’s recent rise in popularity and relevance was, sadly, because PewDiePie was playing it. So that tells you everything.

And we haven’t even gotten into the fact that the playerbase looks pale as fuck, so you know that’s a thing. I’m seeing a few Indonesian-language Minecraft tutorials on YouTube, so that’s neat, but otherwise… it’s pretty white-dominated.

And this all assumes that the causes are all because of structural inequalities, not active fuckery against marginalized folks. I honestly don’t know how often that happens, though I wouldn’t honestly be surprised if it did. I mean, it’s not as if the game isn’t associated with nasty folk like PDP… and hell, even the original creator, who, to their credit, Microsoft and Mojang have sidelined, is a homophobic and racist dude.

But, yeah. I mean, $CHILD_1 and $CHILD_2 are still at it with Minecraft, and I’ll be around to help them through, hopefully to steer them away from the nasty stuff. But still, ugh. There are so many reasons to be grumpy about this game.

Mind you, at least it isn’t Roblox.

#Minecraft #grumping #accessibility #a whole bunch of things #structural inequality #representation

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somar78 · 5 years

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The Rising Sun Workshop x Young Henrys Custom Postie Bike Chopper – The Hopper

The Postie Bike is an Australian institution, they’re a lightly modified version of the Honda CT110 specifically built for Australia Post – an Australian government institution famous for its ability to find new and creative ways to not deliver your mail.

This custom Postie Bike chopper was built as a collaborative effort between the Rising Sun Workshop and Young Henrys, two iconic Sydney establishments that are very high on the must see list for visitors to the harbour city who have a soft spot for motorcycles, or beer, or motorcycles and beer.

The Rising Sun Workshop

The Rising Sun Workshop is a motorcycle workshop and award winning restaurant, with elements of both a bar and a cafe thrown in for good measure. Anyone can go visit for coffee, tea, beer, lunch or dinner. Locals can sign up and become members, allowing them to bring their motorcycle in and work on it using one of four hydraulics lifts, with fully appointed tool kits and workshop equipment.

Perhaps most importantly there’s also a resident master motorcycle mechanic on site named Brad Coles, who provides advice, guidance, and assistance to people who have limited experience working on engines. Brad is known for having the skill and patience levels of a Shaolin monk and he’s a talented off-road rider to boot.

Young Henrys

We’ve featured the work of Young Henrys on Silodrome previously, they’re a rapidly growing craft brewery in Sydney located just down the road from the Rising Sun Workshop in Newtown, not far south of the CBD. The brewery has been going from strength to strength since it was founded in 2012 by Richard Adamson and Oscar McMahon.

The team are known for their frequent releases of limited edition batches, and for their welcoming bar that operates right out of the brewery inside an old warehouse. One of these limited edition batches was called Motorcycle Oil after its rich dark color, and another was “Foo Town” lager, a special beer created in collaboration with the Foo Fighters to celebrate their ninth studio album and their “Concrete and Gold” tour down under.

The Hopper – A Custom Postie Bike Chopper

The familiar purr of the Postie Bike is immediately familiar to all Australians, it usually means the junk mail has arrived. Thousands of retired Postie Bikes have now been sold into private hands and they’re proven popular as cheap daily transport.

This Postie is unlike any other, it’s the result of a months long project at Rising Sun Workshop involving dozens of workshop regulars and staff, all captained by resident wrench Brad.

The primary goal was to turn the Postie into an eye-catching and entirely unique custom motorcycle that could be displayed at music festivals, be put into liquor stores, bars, and pubs that stock Young Henrys beer, and most importantly, the bike had to function as a draught beer dispenser including a tap, hoses, and cooling. You just park the bike next to a keg, hook it up, and you’ve got ice cold draught beer on tap.

Fitting all that equipment onto a CT110 with its 87 kilogram (192 pound) kerb weight was always going to be a challenge, the choice to make the bike into an Easy Rider-inspired chopper made it more challenging still.

At this point I’m going to turn it over to Brad to explain the fabrication-intensive build in his own words:

We had a meeting at RSW, threw out some ideas on what we wanted it to look like, and took a lot of influences from the 70’s Easy Rider chopper scene. The bike had to have the ability to pour beer from it somehow. It had to be a rideable and registed bike, and had to be over the top.

From that meeting, I drew up a sketch of the bike, and then it was all built from that original sketch.

The fabrication work was quite involved, from the hand bent sissy bar, and forklift tires that would allow the fitment of a custom made mini pallet that allowed a “magic box” to be mounted. The magic box is a special esky (an Australian beer cooler) that allows the beer to be chilled down through the lines as it comes from the keg.

A springer front end was fitted to the bike, and lengthened 150mm. We fitted different wheels to the original hubs, and went with a 19” front, and 16” rear. With the front end and wheels changed, we now needed the frame stretched, so that also got 150mm length added into it. We made up special jigs to allow the frame and front end to be welded back together and remain straight and true. All of that work has been reinforced correctly to maintain structural integrity of the bike.

We hand-bent and welded up the very narrow handlebars, as well as fitted a 5 litre mini keg onto the backbone to supply the fuel to the bike, that runs through a hand bent copper line, that resembles a line on a still. It also conveniently holds a beer can, for display purposes only of course.

The seat pan was made from alloy, hand bent, shaped and welded up, then had it custom trimmed in 70’s metal flake vinyl. The gold and white colours of the seat are meant to resemble the colour of a beer, and beer head. Naturally we also had to get custom length cables made to fit.

We used the original lower frame support, but modified it to fit the new frame length with some custom detail pieces, like the spanner shape that connects the frame to the support. It now has forward control foot pegs, with a custom-made brake linkage fitted. Being a centrifugal clutch meant we could also make a hand shifter, that incorporates the old brewery tasting bar counter top beer tap handle.

The bike also has a custom exhaust with a 70’s style kick up at the back.

We had some alloy plates cut and machined for branding, as well as allowing the beer decal to be placed when being used at events. We also fitted a set of twin rectangle “Dixie” headlights that came out of Japan. Purpose Built Moto blinkers, and a mini speedo. Almost everything else is the original equipment like footpegs, controls etc, or been custom made for the bike.

The biggest challenge on this build was time. We had members help on the build, and that was always going to be the case, but like everyone, life gets in the way, so building a custom bike takes a back seat. We had many delays with the bike, like motorcycle accidents, deadlines shifting, running a workshop, overseas holidays and as the collaboration was always about building an amazing bike on a small budget, the labor or build hours would just be put in whenever possible. It did mean a bunch of 16 hour days, but the end result speaks for itself.

I don’t know how many hours went into the build, but it is safe to say between everyone involved, with everything around the build, including filming social media short videos etc we would have hundreds and hundreds of hours in it.

If you’d like to visit Rising Sun Workshop you can click here.

Follow the Rising Sun Workshop on Facebook – Instagram

All images: Chris Corboy – Corboy Photography

The post The Rising Sun Workshop x Young Henrys Custom Postie Bike Chopper – The Hopper appeared first on Silodrome.

source https://silodrome.com/custom-postie-bike-chopper/

#cars

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nitewrighter · 6 years

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for the movie soundtracks thing: light of the seven from game of thrones season 6

You know I can’t say no to my boy Ramin Djawadi. I love this composition though! Kind of sinister Funeral-y vibes, am I right?

Note: We don’t actually know if Gabrielle Adawe is alive or not in the Overwatch Universe when Overwatch got shut down, so this fic might have to be edited in the future if/when we get more lore.

—-

The memorial service was held in the Court D’Honneur at the Palais des Nations, a fairly humble but dignified assembly with countless flags flying at half-mast. Gabrielle Adawe stood at a podium in front of a seated crowd, with Geneva’s Celestial Sphere a few yards behind her and her scarf wafting in the wind. She scanned the crowd and saw a few recognizable faces. Torbjörn Lindholme sat stone-faced, while Reinhardt was hunched over slightly next to him with people behind him still struggling to see past his shoulders. Angela Ziegler was there, looking on forlornly as Lena Oxton sobbed into the shoulder of Winston next to her. There were many international dignitaries, representatives of Numbani, Ministers of Oasis, and the families of those lost in the blast at Zurich making up for the bulk in the crowd, but the number of civilians at the margins was depressing. In many ways, they weren’t just commemorating those lost in the destruction of Zurich Headquarters—with the Petras Act now going into effect, this was a funeral for Overwatch the institution itself. And yet so few came. So few mourned. But who could blame them after Overwatch had lost the public’s trust? Gabrielle Adawe inhaled and folded her hands in front of herself on the podium.

“My appointment to the position of Under-Secretary of the UN was not what I had hoped it would be,” she said, speaking into the mic, “It was not an acknowledgment of my statesmanship, but rather, a gesture of necessity, with my predecessor having perished in the early omnic attacks on humanity. We were all terrified, desperate people in those days. In its conception, Overwatch was—, to use an American colloquialism, a Hail Mary pass. A pooling together of our best and brightest individuals and resources in our darkest hour. Even as I was picking out some of the most brilliant scientists and soldiers for Overwatch’s task force, my mind was filled with so many doubts as to the fate of humanity. Jack Morrison never had those doubts. For Jack Morrison, as long as Gabriel Reyes was by his side, there was no threat too great to face, no life too small to save.

“With Overwatch at the forefront of the fight, humanity was able to turn the tide against the omnics and end the Crisis, and in rebuilding our world from the destruction of the Omnics, there was a dream that they would serve as champions of peace and progress for the benefit of all humanity. In the end though, they were all only human themselves. Just as capable of harm and corruption as you or I. We have been disappointed, heartbroken even, by the scandals that shook Overwatch in its later years, and we were right to feel so. But we also love to forget that our heroes are human. We make them far more than we could ever hope to be, and far more than they actually are. For all their flaws, Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes were two men who only wanted to build a better, safer world. And in many ways, they succeeded. In the 20 years since the Omnic Crisis, we enjoy a markedly improved quality of life and technology elevated to heights not previously thought possible. They have built a better world, and it’s our job to see that it keeps getting better.

“With the ending of Overwatch, we must not think of this day as an ending to heroes, but a calling. We must be our own heroes now. We must live out the dreams of peace and progress Overwatch wanted for humanity. We must maintain hope in the face of adversity. All of these were principles Overwatch stood for, and in spite of Overwatch’s ending, they are principles we must continue to stand for. For the sake of our heroes and the sake of ourselves. All we can ever give this world is our best.”

A ripple of applause rose up from the crowd as the camera panned out and a newscaster spoke. “Speaking up next in the memorial ceremonies is acclaimed poet laureate and—”

“Turn it off,” a voice croaked across a dark room filled with the steady beeping of a heart rate monitor. Moira clicked the monitor off and walked over.

“The hell are you wearing on your face?” said the voice as Moira turned her head towards its source.

Moira touched her fingers over the metallic half-mask now extending from her forehead, over her blue eye, and ending past her cheekbone, “Souvenir from Zurich,” she said.

“Looks stupid,” muttered the voice.

“Could look worse,” said Moira with a shrug, before clearing her throat. “Well, lab results say you’re stabilized,” she said, flipping through some lab results on her tablet, “Structurally, at least.”

“It hurts,” said the voice.

“I got to you as quickly as I can, but your current pain level… it’s the best the other scientists and I can manage without knocking you out,” said Moira.

“What’s…what’s happening to me?” said the voice.

“Survival of an organism is contingent on two states: Homeostasis, the maintenance of an organism’s baseline equilibrium, and transistasis, the adaptation to one’s environment. I’m afraid these two states are far more… evident in you than in other organisms.”

“Mirror,” said the voice.

“I’m not sure that’s a good—” Moira started.

“Mirror,” the voice insisted.

Moira turned the camera on on her tablet and then stepped next to the bed the voice was coming from, and hesitantly held the tablet out. Two hands, grayed with death with black smoke streaming off of them extended and took the tablet.

“… I’m sorry, Gabriel,” Moira said as Gabriel Reyes looked at his own face in the tablet’s camera.

Gabriel’s breath shuddered and he ran a hand down the side of his face, chunks of it falling away into black smoke as one of his now-red eyes twitched. He looked like death. Blackened veins clawed up his grayed face, his scars were flaking away into smoke and ash, “No…” he said quietly, “No–this isn’t…”

“My working theory is that the explosion catalyzed some kind of…. trauma reaction in your SEP serum that ended up targeting the nanites of my treatments, attacking tissues of your body, including your heart, and that Doctor Ziegler’s biotic resurrection ended up cementing your cells into a permanent state of… I’m not sure what to call the processes they’re going through—Necrosis? Apoptosis? It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

“You have to fix it,” said Gabriel.

“I don’t know how to,” said Moira.

Moira was not a person who was in the habit of saying she was confused or that she didn’t know what to do. The sentence seemed unnatural coming out of her mouth and it made the world seem to crumble away from Gabriel. Moira herself was pacing, running her long fingernails through her short hair.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” muttered Gabriel.

“It was bound to all come crashing down sometime…” said Moira, “And now that it has…”

“There’s going to be a power vacuum,” said Gabriel, “Overwatch gone. Lots of little organizations scrambling to rule the rubble. Going to be a bloodbath.”

“It’s all we can do to shut them down and keep them in line,” said Moira.

“’We?’” said Gabriel.

“Giorraíonn beirt bóthar, Gabriel,” said Moira, “I told you, I’m with you. But we’re both going to need all the help we can get.”

Gabriel huffed.

“And I’ll find a way to improve your condition, I promise you. It’s just as important to me as it is to you.”

“Taking all this in stride, as usual,” said Gabriel.

“Adaptation is key to survival,” said Moira, “We were never the people Overwatch wanted us to be. Not truly. Now’s our chance to be who we were meant to be,” she stuck her fingernail underneath the metallic half-mask on her face, peeling it off to reveal a crumbling lattice-like pattern of black and purple on her skin stretching over the portion of her face the mask previously covered, black smoke trailing off of her skin like the smoke trailing off of Gabriel’s own body, “Both of us,” she said with a smile.

#overwatch #overwatch fanfic #Gabriel Reyes #moira o'deorain #Soundtrack prompts

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maskmass22 · 2 years

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What Is Thai Food & How Does Thai Delicacies Differ Between The Regions?

Because it's a excellent match with kimchi, bossam is all the time cooked after Gimjang (김장), which is a standard Korean occasion when kimchi is made in massive quantities for the winter. Bossam is eaten by dipping it in ssamjang or salted shrimp and wrapping it in lettuce and perilla leaves. Galbijjim is a dish made mostly from braised quick ribs of beef. However, there is additionally one other much less frequent selection using pork ribs. Without query, it’s an acquired taste which I’m proud to say I’ve acquired on our most up-to-date trip to Taiwan. Like lu rou fan and beef noodle soup, the gua bao or cua pao is doubtless considered one of the hottest Taiwanese foods. Often known as a “Taiwanese hamburger”, it’s mainly a kind of sandwich made with braised pork stomach sandwiched between two halves of a Chinese steamed bun . It’s sometimes dressed with pickled mustard greens, coriander, and floor peanuts. This is among the most fascinating things we’ve eaten thus far in Taiwan. 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Not solely is this meal fast and scrumptious, it is also brimming with unexpected flavor! Have your sausage and eat it, too — so long as it's nestled into a bed of quinoa and hearty broccoli. Mint, lemon juice, and contemporary scallions transform yogurt into the last word fast sauce, too. The greenback sign has a negative connotation in clients' minds and it makes them much less likely to make large purchases. When selecting a colour scheme in your menu, you additionally need to ensure that your colours complement each other and that you have got a constant theme. Additionally, your shade scheme should also match your corporation's model. So, you would not need to have an electrical blue menu at your whiskey bar or a neutral brown menu at a child-friendly restaurant. Restaurants that have an intensive number of drinks may also need to make a separate beverage menu so they do not take up an excessive quantity of space. 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#外燴

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klcthebookworm · 6 years

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Mission on Mimban 9 of 12

Previous Installments

Introduction, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven,Eight,

What Happens in the Chapter

Chapter Nine opens with Luke and Leia's chat as they walk down the tunnel. Luke thinks of a new plan, but Leia dismisses Halla as a delusional old woman who wants the Kaiburr crystal to defeat Grammel. Luke brings up having to find it before Governor Essada and his people. Leia shudders, and Luke asks what could have happened on the Death Star to affect her so. Leia does not tell him. They find the linchen-fungi that glows in the dark, so they don't need to use their lumas. The underground is a wonderland of multicolored stalactites, an underground stream, a bottomless pond, a miniature forest of helicites, cantilevered mushrooms, and a tall stand of something resembling paralyzed bamboo encased in quartz that ring when struck.

Just when Leia's come around on her opinion of Mimban "If Mimban is ever settled formally, everyone should live underground," the ground shatters under her feet and Luke has to pull her out of the new pit. They pass on smooching, despite the obvious set-up for it. They continue on with the spelunking, testing the ground with the lightsaber and holding hands as they forge on. The path ends at the shore of a vast underground lake, so wide that they could not see the far shore.

We have a nice bit of problem solving as they figure out how to make a raft out of a leprous lily that grows where the underground steam meets this lake and paddles out of selenite crystals. With those preparations made, they make camp and both pass out from exhaustion.

They wake up after twelve hours of sleep and the concentrates for breakfast now taste good. They slide the pad-boat into the water and start paddling. They hug the wall on their left, where the path had vanished into the water. Eventually Luke's imagined terrors subside and he wonders about Leia if the experiences they'd gone through so far on Mimban had had a mellowing effect on her. Leia's common sense has not been affected as she shoots down Luke's offer to do all the paddling.

Several hours after lunch, Luke calls a halt to the paddling. He's nervous about a pop-plop sound, too erratic to be drip water from the ceiling. Everything goes quiet and they resume paddling. When Luke calls a second stop upon hearing the strange sound again, Leia sees and is rendered speechless by a trail of fat bubbles that was arrowing rapidly toward them.

Luke fights the lake monster with his lightsaber, and falls into the water. Leia gets into a tug-of-war with the lake monster with Luke as the rope. Finally the monster gets tired of lightsaber hits and leaves them alone. Leia has a nice screaming fit after Luke is safely onboard the pad-boat again.

After several more luckily uneventful hours paddling, the far shore finally comes into view.

An ancient dock protruded from the dry ground ahead. While no boats of any kind were in sight, the long finger of metal extending out into the water left no doubt as to its function, its alien design notwithstanding.

Luke had less luck identifying the purposes of the numerous structures clustered all along the shore. Many appeared raised from stone, others had metal walls, and some combinations of both materials. No matter what the compositions, every one displayed signs of considerable age.

The lake is not a new feature underground if the ancient and vanished Thrella built a dock. Leia refuses to get her feet wet when they reach waist-deep water, so Luke carries her the rest of the way. She apologizes for her behavior and reveals she can't swim. They hike through the abandoned city and Luke keeps having the something is watching me sensation. He turns around to follow movement he saw out of the corner of his eye and ends up cutting the Coway behind them in half. Five more block their path ahead. Leia arms herself with a broken stalactite and wields it like a dagger.

Despite the odds in numbers, this is such an uneven fight it's almost funny. Luke slices up two of their spears. Leia dodges the third spear, trips him with her legs, and then stabs him in the skull. One Coway switches to an axe and gets his legs cut off with the lightsaber. Another with a spear loses his spear hand at the wrist. The last one jabs at Luke with his spear so Luke cuts off the spear point. He throws the shaft at Luke and runs away. Leia's last opponent keeps her at bay with his spear and retreats when he sees Luke approaching. Luke takes him out by throwing his activated lightsaber in the Coway's back.

Meanwhile, the smartest of the Coway is running uphill and climbing over a huge pile of rubble from the ceiling. Leia upgrades her weapon choice to one of the axes of the dead Coway and flings it at the runner. She scores a hit on his right shoulder. He tumbles down the other side of the rocks and they climb after him, desperate to keep him from alerting others. The chapter ends with Luke and Leia staring down at what is on the other side.

What I Liked

The water [of the underground lake] was as black as the inside of the Emperor's mind. Yeah, a description that a) feels Star Wars and b) something that Luke would think of! And I do believe this is our first hint that the Emperor is the evil heart of the Empire. To double check my belief, I found the 1976 hardback of the first movie's novelization published by Del Rey Books in my library. I believe my father bought it and it found its way onto my shelves next to the paperback novelizations of the next two that I bought at used books stores. I replaced these copies with a 2015 Books-A-Million edition that put all three in one hardback, but I wondered if they had edited to reflect what we know from the prequels. Surprisingly, they did not change the Prologue between the two editions. Here's the passage that described the Emperor of the Galaxy:

Aided and abetted by restless, power-hungry individuals within the government, and the massive organs of commerce, the ambitious Senator Palpatine caused himself to be elected President of the Republic. He promised to reunite the disaffected among the people and to restore the remembered glory of the Republic.

Once secure in office he declared himself Emperor, shutting himself away from the populace. Soon he was controlled by the very assistants and boot-lickers he had appointed to high office, and the cries of the people for justice did not reach his ears.

Having exterminated through treachery and deception the Jedi Knights, guardians of justice in the galaxy, the Imperial governors and bureaucrats prepared to institute a reign of terror among the disheartened worlds of the galaxy. Many used the Imperial forces and the name of the increasingly isolated Emperor to further their own personal ambitions.

The Emperor we get in Empire Strike Back and Return of the Jedi is not this Palpatine described, and by the time we get to the prequels, the character is a Machiavellian devil. Don't get me wrong, I prefer my Palpatine as the Master of the Sith controlling the whole galaxy brought down low after twenty-ish years of complacency, miscalculating just how hard abused beings will fight back (including Anakin and the Rebellion in that), and failing to factor in the murderbears (Ewoks). I'm also tickled to find evidence of changes in motion, as it were.

No Virgin Alarms go off during this camping scene.

Crossing the lake has more of the in-character moments for me.

Out of excuses, he stared at the lake. "I hope this lake's not as wide as it looks. I don't like traveling on water."

"That's not surprising," soothed the Princess, knowing that on the desert world of Tatooine where Luke had been raised, an open body of water was as rare as an evergreen.

It took 194 pages in my paperback copy for Foster to finally remember Luke is from a damn desert! The resulting fears in Luke's mind are pretty good too, believable from someone who has never seen water like this before.

I like the lake monster encounter and its introduction.

It rose.

A pale amorphous form, shining with phosphorescence, in color it was not unlike the great wandrella. But compared to the lake-spirit the worm-thing was a familiar creature.

There was no face, nothing recognizable in that constantly altering form. It lifted short, thick pseudopods of a whitish substance clear of the surface. They gleamed brightly in the dim cavern light. Luke thought he could see partway through the creature, and strange shapes swirling about it internally.

I kind of hate that ILM didn't take a stab at this kind of monster. Nowadays it would be easiest to use CGI, so I'm curious as to what the old school approach for film would have tried instead.

What I Found Problematic

Given how Grammel treated you, Leia, I would think you'd be on board turning him into a frog. Sure, be skeptical that you can actually do that with the Force, but don't mock the old lady.

Luke asking about why Leia is freaking out over an Imperial interrogation and what happened to her on the Death Star doesn't bother me as much as his reaction. Leia charged out of her cell and took charge of her rescue and then he was thrown into the pilots' ready room. So it's perfectly reasonable that he missed her trauma until she fainted after Grammel told them about the Governor.

She turned memory-haunted eyes on him. "Maybe I'll tell you someday, Luke. Not now. I'm not... I haven't forgotten enough. If I told you I might remember too much."

"Don't you think I could take it," he asked tightly.

She hasten to correct him. "Oh not you, Luke, not you. It's me, my own reactions I'm worried about. Whenever I start trying to remember exactly what they did to me that time, I start to come apart."

And Luke immediately follows Leia's confession with a heartfelt apology for prying. No, that is not in the text at all. Leia changes the subject and they discover the lichen-fungi that glows underground. I'm torn about this characterization, because making the trauma survivor (typically a female) soothe who is prying into the trauma by making it all about themselves is such a common response. It's believable as written (shocker from Foster I know).

This dynamic needs to be drop-kicked into the sun.

So I want to rewrite this with an added apology from Luke. His empathy fueled by his Force Sensitivity should make it a lot easier for him to pick up on how badly Leia is still hurt by the Death Star events. He is in love with this woman, offer some damn comfort. But Leia won't be in my version.

This is the lamest just kiss I have ever seen written:

Rolling away from [the gaping blackness], the Princess caught him with a hand, her weight halting his slide. Now Luke rolled clear, came to a panting stop on her chest. For a long moment they lay like that, suspended in time. Then their eyes met with a gaze that could have penetrated light-years.

Err, is Luke on top or are they on their sides chest-to-chest? Not only am I having trouble visualizing them on the ground, this really needs Mark Hamill and Carrie Fisher's expressive faces to make me feel it. Not that I really want to feel the twincest.

Wait a blooming second, where did all this equipment come from? After checking his timer he woke the Princess. You didn't have a time piece hiking to town. Luke checked his tracom. Okay, maybe you had that earlier when you were searching for the beacon, but why wasn't it named? Luke brought water from the stream in a collapsible cup. Why are we just now seeing this stuff when it should have been shown on the first hike in Chapter Two (Did they have incomplete survival packs because these things were not mentioned in the text there.) If they didn't have these things in Chapter Two, where is the text that says these items came from the swamp crawler? Who edited this work and never caught this inconsistency?

Why, Foster, why? I liked the battle with the lake monster, even if I think the lightsaber should have a bigger effect. But then you go and ruin it by making Leia scream after it's all over. Since when is Leia a screamer? Was it just a set up for this?

Her voice rose slightly. "I'm ready to get out."

"Believe me, Leia," he replied, taking her hand in his, "I'm in just as big a hurry as you."

This is Luke Skywalker, who hardly needs an excuse to give anyone comfort and would seize Leia's hand without her having hysterics. If anyone deserves to have hysterics it is HIM, our poor desert farmboy dragged underwater again by something trying to eat him. Hello PTSD flashback to the Death Star trash compactor.

Leia can't swim. This is information that should come up at the beginning of a journey over water not at the end. And even if she can't swim, stop being a wuss and get your feet wet. Because Leia is a lot of things but a wuss isn't one of them.

Interracial warfare, perhaps, or maybe sequential decadence ending in their being overwhelmed by aborigines like the greenies. I'm wondering about what happened to the ancient aliens of Mimban too, but damn the phrasing of this sentence just rubs me the wrong way.

That's not how lightsabers work! They have an automatic off switch. No throwing it at fleeing opponents and expecting it to remain on, unless you are using the Force to keep it on.

What Changes in My Fic

Showing better trauma victim support: Mara's trauma is so different from Leia and with the bond between her and Luke, I don't see this conversation even having the massive misstep of Luke making it all about him. What will they talk about during this hike?

Lumas will be changed to glow rods. And do a better job with explaining where the equipment comes from.

I want a line from Mara about how bad they are at keeping watch when they wake up.

The underground lake is a good opportunity to touch on what swimming lessons the Alliance has given Luke.

The lightsaber effects the lake monster. Unless it doesn't for the same reason lightsabers don't seem to boil water. Research this.

My revision of the after lake monster fight: Luke's clingy because oh-crap-I-could've-drowned! reaction has kicked in and Mara has pulled him back onboard. Mara discovers she's not opposed to clingy or more accurately hugging with Luke.

Plot events time. Helping Writers Become Authors further explains this breakdown. It probably hasn't escaped anyone's notice that the scenes in the past few chapters have not ended up on the outline. While thrilling obstacles to overcome, they have nothing to do with what I have identified as the plot: getting the Kaiburr crystal before Grammel does. When will we get back to that plot? I have no idea, but I decided to fill in these scenes under the Action section.

Hook 1% mark = Crashing onto Mimban

Set-up 1% - 12%

Inciting Event 12% mark = Finding the Imperial mining outpost

Build-up 12% - 25%

1st Plot Point 25% mark = Luke and Leia agree to find the Kaiburr crystal with Halla

Reaction to 1st Plot Point 25% - 37%

1st Pinch Point 37% mark = Meeting with Grammel

Realization 37% - 50%

Midpoint or 2nd Plot Point 50% mark = Prison break

Action 50% - 62% = Wandrella chase, Lake monster fight, Coway attack

2nd Pinch Point 62% mark

Renewed Push 62% - 75%

#rescue the farmboy au #star wars legends #splinter of the mind's eye #literary analysis #reference notes #mission on mimban

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quazartranslates · 3 years

Text

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH34

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 34: Star Death Reality Show (XVII)

In front of the laser corridor, the world in front of them was dark, and even the corridor’s emergency lights were not turned on. Standing here was like standing on a dark cliff, and taking one step forward would lead to falling into the abyss.

Qi Leren turned on the flashlight, its dazzling light reflecting off the metal wall.

He walked forward carefully, for fear that the power would suddenly come on, but he also knew that it was impossible, and that there was still ten minutes before the time he and He Yi had agreed upon. He could successfully reach the door and wait for the power to be restarted. The defense system in this corridor and the identification system on the door were started at the same time. In theory, there was enough time for him to brush open the door with his ID card and leave the underground research institute.

Even if there was an accident, such as an early recovery of the power supply, this time he had already made an escape plan, which wouldn't be as awkward as the last time—that is, if he had to use S/L again. Thinking of the Prophet's warning, Qi Leren felt somewhat guilty.

He solemnly apologized to the audience, saying that this adventure might scare everyone, and then turned off the camera. Without doing this, there was no way to not make the audience suspicious. If he really let them see the abnormal situation in the laser corridor, there was no way to explain it!

Once again, Qi Leren stood in front of the door. The electronic card reader for the ID card couldn’t work because there was no power, so Qi Leren could only wait silently.

Eight minutes to go.

Qi Leren was a bit absent-minded. He was eager to get out of here and return to the world on the surface. He would tell Dr. Lu and Du Yue what had happened inside, and then they would think about it together. Time was running out. They had to find the four contestants who had been infected as soon as possible, kill them, and isolate the suspects.

There was still much to be done.

If the situation got out of hand, Qi Leren intended to ignore He Yi's dissuasion and bring Dr. Lu and Du Yue into the underground research institute, which was probably the simplest clearance method for this copy, but by doing so, there will be very few rewards... A bit of a loss.

With a zi sound, the sensor lights lit up, first far away then nearing. Qi Leren were shocked and stared at the card reader, which showed words he couldn't understand and the patterns of fingerprints. Qi Leren was overjoyed and quickly raised the ID card.

At the moment when the ID card was about to touch the card reader, the card reader suddenly went white. After a few seconds, a pattern reappears on it—a circle that looked like a clock, and there were strange numbers blinking in the circle. The symbols changed as the dots appeared in the clockwise direction...

People who have restarted electronic devices must be familiar with this pattern, but the vicious timing of its appearance made Qi Leren stunned.

The alarm of didididididi— sounded in the channel behind him, stinging his eardrums, and the laser beams at the end of the channel appeared again!

He couldn't say if he was angry or relieved. Qi Leren felt at this moment that the boot had finally dropped. He even thought wryly that he was still suffering from bad luck. Fortunately, as long as he waited for another half minute, He Yi would cut off the power again… If he didn't make any mistakes there.

Qi Leren, who had confidence in this venture, suddenly became suspicious.

Would He Yi really turn off the power? Would he really do it? If he didn't turn on the power, and he waited stupidly at the door and missed the best time to escape...

No, he couldn't wait. Take a gamble! Believe He Yi or believe in himself?

Qi Leren took the initiative, swiftly jumped up, and rushed forward, making a leap and running again. He crossed two laser lines and the next three were skillfully crossed. However, when the laser net was formed, he still could not rush out of the corridor, because the first group of mesh laser networks was formed too early.

But if he saved once, it would be enough!

Qi Leren ran the whole way. At the moment when the first group of laser nets was about to touch him, he saved his position. The laser nets collided with his body and destroyed him in an instant. At the same time, the laser nets that had destroyed the intended target disappeared.

Qi Leren was resurrected in the same place, unable to hesitate, and rushed out of this death trap without looking back before the second laser net could form!

The agreed 40 seconds had already passed, and the power supply had not been cut off, but Qi Leren was relieved: Fortunately, he chose to believe in himself. Reality had taught him never to gamble on any luck.

He leaned against the wall and recalled the Novice Village from when he had just entered the game. He had met a murderer in the hospital. What were his choices at that time?

He chose to hide, wait, and pray. If it was him now... Qi Leren smiled silently. Now he would want to kill that chainsaw killer, so would he even need to use S/L? After all, it was just an ordinary weak human being.

It had only been two months, but he was totally different from before. This change was not only reflected in his combat effectiveness, but in his sense of fighting. He had somewhat gotten rid of an ordinary person’s mentality of wanting to hide and had begun to deal with the endless dangers in a more active way. It was thanks to Chen Baiqi—her demonic training methods had made Qi Leren realize that shrinking from fate was much worse than "just don’t act recklessly".

After recovering quickly, Qi Leren took his gun in hand and set off, walking towards the power room.

He Yi must have had an accident over there. Qi Leren didn't believe that He Yi deliberately sabotaged him. He Yi knew that he had survived going through the laser corridor once, so he wouldn't be sure that this method could kill him. If Qi Leren had a narrow escape, he would be in big trouble. If he really wanted to plot against him, He Yi could have shot him in the head when he wasn’t paying attention, there was no need to wait like this.

A pi sounded in silence, and Qi Leren suddenly stopped and looked back in confusion. This sound... It seemed that the door at the other end of the laser corridor had opened.

Did someone find an ID card and come in? Qi Leren ran back quickly with his gun. He saw that the door at the end had indeed opened, and there was a figure poking around.

"Qi Leren! You’re still alive!" From the end of the long corridor, Dr. Lu waved excitedly at him.

"Qianbei, qianbei, are you okay? We’re here to save you!" Du Yue emerged from behind Dr. Lu, and they were like two mice clinging to the door, eyeing the cheese in the mousetrap.

"Don't come in! There are lasers!" Qi Leren shouted frantically.

"Okay, Du Yue and I found another ID card and finally got the door open. What should we do now?" Dr. Lu asked.

"You just wait, don't close the door, I'll go to the power room and turn it off, then you can come in safely," Qi Leren said.

"Then hurry back," Dr. Lu said.

"We’re waiting for you!" Du Yue shouted.

Relieved, Qi Leren turned to leave, took two steps, and then stopped. After learning his lesson, he explained, "He Yi is here. We figured out that the glowing stone is a parasitic monster called amphioctopus. It will parasitize the human body and multiply rapidly to infect other people. At present, about four people have been infected. Mark and Xue Jiahui are almost certainly infected, and Annie is also very suspicious. I’m not sure about the other one. Don’t trust anyone and don’t wander around until I get back!"

"I understand." Dr. Lu waved him away.

This time Qi Leren really left and went to the power room.

It was quiet, quiet everywhere, a disturbing silence. Qi Leren moved very fast, but his steps were very light. How did he develop these cat-like steps? Qi Leren didn't really want to recall it. But thanks to Chen Baiqi's demonic training, he had learned how to do this in three days, which was more than enough to cope with the current situation.

Coming to the floor where the power room was located, Qi Leren held his gun and quietly moved closer to his destination. The power room door was open. There were bright lights inside and rows of tall machinery and equipment running with a buzzing sound, but no one there. He Yi was not there.

Qi Leren frowned. Where was He Yi? At this time, he couldn't run around by himself. His sudden disappearance seemed to tell him that there was a new danger here.

What could it be?

Qi Leren didn't know, and he couldn't search for it now.

Dr. Lu and Du Yue were still waiting for him at the door. Should he continue to delay here, or turn off the power and go out?

Qi Leren hesitated for a moment, then flipped the switch.

The old machines made a slow plaintive wail, and they stopped working altogether. After doing this for several more times, these machines that hadn’t been maintained would likely break down completely. Qi Leren felt that if they weren’t in a copy, but in the real world, it would be impossible to turn on the standby power that had been idle for hundreds of years.

The lights went out, and this underground research institute became a dark paradise.

Qi Leren's ability to see in the dark hadn’t improved after the shell was broken, so it was impossible to see his surroundings clearly without any light source. He had to turn on his flashlight and run along the emergency passage towards the top floor.

This time, Qi Leren ran very fast, as if some monster was chasing behind him, and he didn't have light footsteps. After all, for a man running in the dark with a flashlight, the weight of his footsteps was meaningless. He passed through the winding halls and returned to the front of the laser corridor smoothly with his excellent memory of the terrain—

It was as if he had a faint premonition in his heart.

The door was open, but Dr. Lu and Du Yue were gone.

In the boundless darkness, in the boundless silence, as if he was the only one left on this deserted planet, stationed in the long night, watching the awakening monsters open their jaws and come towards him.

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