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#for live action. the bar is descendants so the bar is extremely low
daggery · 3 years
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Gif Maker Appreciation Tag
rules: answer the first half of the questions with gifsets of your own, then answer the second half by tagging gif makers you love!
@iridescentides @deweyduck tysm for tagging me! ❤️❤️❤️
LINK A GIFSET...
Link a gifset you’re really proud of:
definitely the malvie gifset. i feel like if i could solidify this type of gifset as my Style tm i would be satisfied but unfortunately that requires making more gifsets like this one lmao
Link a gifset where you tried something new:
this huma set i tried out channel mixer and i like how it turned out on the individual harry and uma panels esp
Link a gifset that features your favorite character or celebrity:
not a gifset but a little graphic for inej ghafa love of my entire fucking life!!!!! hoping to gif her more from the show in the future when i have more time!!
Link a gifset that you want more people to see:
glowy eyes mal gifset, even though it’s simple it was a gifset i had tried to make several times before but wasn’t happy with for whatever reason until now. gifmaking has rly exposed the way im a perfectionist help. but i do feel like i’ve improved!
Link a gifset that you had fun making:
LOTS of fun making my halloween descendants set, i made it in one day which almost never happens. usually finding the scenes to use is so boring but it was fun to find clips that matched the halloween theme
Link a gifset that you created as part of a meme, challenge, or series:
haven’t made one yet. i did make a simple descendants giffing meme for myself some months ago, but i haven’t posted it yet because i. dont want to commit to it
Link a gifset of yours that makes you smile:
jay eyebrows >:) and i’m still unapologetically obsessed with my xiaohei and wuxian gifset bc it makes me smile but also want to cry in a good way they’re just so found family
Link a gifset that you made for someone else:
the malvie and huma ones^^
TAG SOMEONE WHO...
Tag someone who inspired you to start making gifs:
gonna go out on a limb and tag a non mutual to say i love @wespers jamie’s creations!! they were one of the first gifmakers i followed and even though i havent tried out pale coloring yet, you can probably see a bit of the pale gifset format insp in my first(ish) gifset. so yeah they were an inspo for me to start making gifs and i rly love their recent shadow and bone sets!!! (currently in my queue) <3
Tag someone who makes great vibrant gifs:
@moorsgrimhilde / @malviesbitch sofia is singlehandedly keeping the descendantsedit tag alive with her gifs not to mention how bright and vibrant and pretty they are and i just think thats iconic of her
Tag someone who makes great pale/pastel gifs:
@deweyduck i associate her with like, bal, barbie and ALSO!!! this one ducktales gifset whose colors really stood out to me, it’s so pleasing to look at
Tag someone who gifs for a fandom you love:
@mobei-juns making xiaohei and wuxian sets (latter one currently in queue!) for legend of hei <333 the best shifu-student duo.
@oretsevmal kat’s shadow and bone gifs i adore them, the coloring and text on the malina one is so pretty. also descendants gifs!! i get so happy when i see them
@inejkazjesper the CUTEST jayvie roadtrip au gifset ever. i love gifsets that use clips from videos other than the original movies to create something unique
Tag someone who uses text/typography really well in their gifsets:
@hersilentlanguage i love the text on this jaylos edit with the placement and colors and just nailing the vibes overall, all of their graphics are a+++
Tag someone who motivates you to step up your game:
@iridescentides the way i reblogged this gifset again and almost immediately others also reblogged it to reminisce abt everyone collectively freaking out over it as well.. this gifset was literally a community bonding event. also need to mention your colors i literally dont understand how you do it!! 
Tag someone who you have taken inspiration from:
@hersilentlanguage i haven’t actually posted anything yet BUT i do have an idea or two for future things hopefully :)))
Tag gif makers who you admire and appreciate! (Put as many people here as you want!): 
i can count the number of gifmaker mutuals i have on two hands so everyone’s tagged above :)if you’re tagged do this if you want (invitation extends to you too sparrow for your graphics!) ❤️❤️
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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years
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Delight in Misery (ao3) - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8 (interlude)
The Lotus Pier was a free and unrestrained place in comparison with the Cloud Recesses, and there was no similar prohibition on raising pets. This was a good thing, largely because Lan Wangji had recently started to think of his little found family primarily in animal metaphors.
It was, he concluded, because of the way Mo Xuanyu followed Jiang Cheng around like an imprinted duckling, with stars in his eyes and an unfortunate tendency to try to emulate his actions while possessing exactly none of the temperament required to pull any of it off.
Indeed, watching him wheezing his way through a threat to break Jin Ling’s legs was a sight worth seeing, especially with Lan Sizhui patting him on the back and encouraging him when he temporarily got stuck stuttering on the word ‘legs’.
Jiang Cheng, for all his faults and imperfections, could be terrifying when he wished to be, the blood of the battlefields of the Sunshot Campaign forever impressed upon his bones; with Zidian to hand, he could look commanding and fearsome, decisive and harsh, and with his sharp looks and sharper scowl, he cut a fine picture - even if Lan Wangji knew the truth, that behind all that sharpness was the soul of a grumpy marshmallow.
Mo Xuanyu, with his wild thatch-like hair that couldn’t be controlled no matter their joint efforts and even wilder and far more questionable taste in appearance, couldn’t hope to match him, and really ought to stop trying.
Naturally, Jin Ling looked about as convinced about the threats as he ever was when Jiang Cheng said it, meaning of course that he didn’t care one whit, but despite their initial concerns, he took to Mo Xuanyu quite well. Lan Wangji was initially puzzled by it, given their conflicting personalities, but Jiang Cheng insightfully (for once) pointed out that it was most likely that Jin Ling was willing to forgive quite a lot in exchange for having another person dressed in Lanling Jin gold around to make him feel less awkward about it.
The two of them together were two little goldfinches strutting around in a sea of purple – or, perhaps more accurately, two golden roly-poly puppies bounding around, tails wagging, trying to befriend the Jiang sect’s army of sleek haughty purple cats. They were accompanied, of course, by a small, gentle crane with a most un-Lan-like taste for spicy fish with radishes and absolutely no head for water travel.
(They were working with Lan Sizhui on that. He lived in the Jiang sect now; he couldn’t spend his whole life being seasick!)
“What does that make you, then?” Jiang Cheng asked when Lan Wangji – after incessant prodding – mentioned his thoughts on the subject of their growing nest. “Master Rabbit?”
Lan Wangji glared, but didn’t object to the characterization; regardless of his personality, there was good reason to make the association. This was largely because Lan Xichen had recently embarked on a mission to capture the rabbits Lan Wangji had been – not raising, precisely, because pets were forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, but feeding on occasion when he had the time. He had brought them to Lan Wangji’s new “residence” at the Lotus Pier as a housewarming gift.
(Lan Wangji had no intention of moving out of Wei Wuxian’s bedroom, of course, but Jiang Cheng had long ago exercised his authority as sect leader to clear out the rooms just beyond it to create a small additional courtyard for him, in which he could exercise and meditate without being too far from the main quarters of the Jiang sect leader. As a result, the only change involved in his new, public, and above-board decision to reside in the Louts Pier was adding a new entranceway to make it appear as though they lived in separate albeit adjoining houses rather than living together in just one. Of course, it being the Lotus Pier, the new entranceway involved constructing not only a gate but a new bridge…)
“What exactly are we supposed to do with a bunch of rabbits?” Jiang Cheng had demanded at the time, staring down at them - there were rather more than Lan Wangji had remembered there being, but he supposed that was the nature of rabbits.
“I have no idea,” Lan Xichen had replied, smiling broadly. “But Wangji likes them.”
Lan Wangji had pretended that neither of them existed, and also that he was urgently needed elsewhere.
Later, Jiang Cheng had cornered him, demanding an explanation or else the rabbits would be sent down to the kitchens to be repurposed, and Lan Wangji had reluctantly confessed that they were from the burrow first established by the two wild rabbits Wei Wuxian had caught for him all those years ago.
Naturally there was no more talk of repurposing after that, and three sets of rabbit coops – far more than the rabbits Lan Wangji actually possessed required – mysteriously appeared in his small courtyard the next day.
“Wouldn’t want the stupid things to drown,” Jiang Cheng had grumbled when confronted with the evidence of his sentimentality. “If they attacked your garden and tried to burrow down they’d only hit water, and then where would we be? Awash in bunny corpses, that’s where, and that’s just unsanitary. I have a duty as sect leader to preserve the public health, you know.”
Lan Wangji had initially had some difficulty determining what type of animal Jiang Cheng was. He was as prickly as a porcupine, as standoffish as a hedgehog, as fickle as a cat, as graceful and vicious as an angry goose…
Recently, however, Lan Wangji had met a merchant from the south who had been selling a type of bird he called zishuiji, or purple swamphens – the merchant claimed that they were descended from the famous zhanniao, the poisonfeather zhen bird noted for their purple bellies, scarlet beaks, and deadly venom. Although Lan Wangji was moderately certain that the man was exaggerating for the sake of a sale, he had found himself compelled to purchase several sets to house in one of the empty rabbit coops, now moved to be placed in the main courtyard, nominally to be nearer to the waterways but mostly so that they’d be easily accessible to everyone - and, of course, to subtly harass Jiang Cheng.
It turned out that zishuiji could apparently be treated in much the same way as chickens. They were highly adaptable, but thrived best near water; they were generally shy around humans, but vicious in defending their territory, capable of biting and mobbing when provoked; and they preferred to raise their eggs with company –
Truly, he had found the right bird for Jiang Cheng.
(Not to mention the euphonious imagery of a purple hen strutting around with its purple lighting, zishuiji with zidian...truly, a picture meant for the ages. Lan Wangji determined at once to make a painting of it and insist Jiang Cheng hang it on some wall. Maybe even one of the ones in the main hall, where strangers could see.)
“Some of these are getting used for food,” Jiang Cheng insisted with a glare. “Some of the rabbits, too. There are no rules against the killing of livestock here, you hear me?”
Mo Xuanyu fell in love with them immediately – Jiang Cheng’s theory was that he was entranced by their iridescent feathers, while Lan Wangji’s view was that he recognized the innate Jiang Cheng-ness of them – and quickly took charge of their care, although Lan Sizhui and Jin Ling routinely assisted in collecting eggs.
Jiang Cheng reluctantly admitted, after some time, that the purchase had been a good one, if only because it served to settle their little awkward duckling into place, finally allowing Mo Xuanyu some sense of stability, as if having some type of small duty for which he was responsible was all he needed to believe that he wouldn’t be forced back to Lanling or to Mo village, his original place of origin, which he somehow feared even more than the backstabbing snakepit of Koi Tower.
(“You need to stop calling him a duckling,” Jiang Cheng said, quivering with laughter. “Do you know that could also mean…no, I’m not saying it. Anyway, he’s such an impressionable brat. Did you see what he did with that make-up he bought? He really does look a bit...”
From this, Lan Wangji inferred that the nickname was both extremely apt, extremely unfortunate, and had permanently stuck.)
In fact, despite initial concerns, it had been surprisingly comfortable to bring Mo Xuanyu into their lives at the Lotus Pier.
He was grateful and happy to be there, which helped; Lan Sizhui was welcoming, and Jin Ling somewhat reluctantly accepting, each for their own reasons, which helped more.
Best of all, he was at just the right age to be a regular disciple, and the current Jiang sect was especially welcoming to outsiders, having been cobbled together from a wide range of previously rogue cultivators and the small handful of survivors of the previous sect’s massacres. It improved Mo Xuanyu’s mood tremendously to be around boys and girls his own age, doing the same thing as them, without the weight of Lanling Jin’s expectations on his shoulders even if he sometimes wore their colors.
“He’s never going to be the most martially inclined,” Jiang Cheng opined after a small period of observation. “But he might make a decent administrator.”
Lan Wangji glanced at him sidelong in silent question, since Mo Xuanyu had not displayed any especially notable scholastic talents either. He had started cultivating fairly late, although obviously not as late as Jin Guangyao, but he lacked the other man’s genius for organization and management. Moreover, while his studies did admittedly exceeded the low bar set in Lan Wangji’s mind by Nie Huaisang’s miserable performance, that was a very low bar indeed.
(Nie Huaisang wasn’t stupid, he reminded himself once again. He was in fact extremely clever. And yet, even knowing what he knew, it was so easy to forget…)
“He’s kind and thoughtful of the well-being of others,” Jiang Cheng said, averting his gaze and pretending his cheeks weren’t tinting red. “Calligraphy and math, people skills, that can all be learned, but at least he has the important part down…I told you to stop doing that.”
Lan Wangji ignored him and continued to smile.
“Freak,” Jiang Cheng muttered, then shook his head. “I can’t believe anyone actually listens to you. Least of all me!”
Lan Wangji rolled his eyes. That part was Jiang Cheng’s own fault – he’d been using Lan Wangji as a sounding board more or less from the beginning, and started making him do some of his paperwork as soon as he’d been regularly awake for more than a shichen at a time under the barely plausible claim that it was good for him to exercise his hands. Now that Lan Wangji was officially out of seclusion, Jiang Cheng had promptly shoveled even more work at him – despite the fact that they were supposedly at each other’s throats.
The Jiang disciples that had not been in the loop – most of them, to Lan Wangji’s mild surprise – adjusted quickly, especially after they noticed the long-suffering expressions on the faces of Jiang Cheng’s immediate deputies. They had remained wary for a while, possibly expecting Lan Wangji to seek to implement the Lan sect rules at any moment, but after a time he had managed to win their confidence through his efficient administration and respect for their customs.
He did…rather a lot, actually. He reviewed the sect’s accounts along with Jiang Cheng, managed certain negotiations, oversaw the continuing reconstruction efforts, reviewed submitted proposals –
All things that the Lan sect did as well, but which had never come to him before. Lan Wangji suspected that in many cases, they did not even come to his brother or his uncle, who were nominally in charge of such things; the Lan sect disdained such worldly affairs, while the Jiang sect embraced them.
Although while he was on the subject of being above worldly affairs, it occured to him that he had not had an opportunity to take Bichen out recently, and it would be good to do so. He would need to come up with some excuse to insist on Jiang Cheng accompanying him for a night hunt sometime soon, some reason that would stand up to scrutiny from the outside.
As for convincing Jiang Cheng himself, however, that would be no problem.
“We are going night-hunting soon,” he informed Jiang Cheng, who looked appalled by the very thought.
“You’re joking, right?” he demanded. “Do you know how much work we have to do? The yearly update with the dyer’s guild is –”
“Not for another two months, and preparation typically takes only two weeks.”
“Reconstruction –”
“Does not require constant supervision at this stage.”
“The – there’s training –”
Lan Wangji attempted to convey his feelings on the validity of that excuse entirely through his facial expression, and it must have worked because Jiang Cheng crumbled at once, grumbling to himself.
“Who’ll we leave the children with?” he tried. “Especially with Xuanyu being so new – oh, all right. It’s weak and I know it, you don’t have to give me that judgmental look of yours.”
“If Jiang Wanyin believes that his skills have gotten so rusty that he would be unable to keep up…”
“I’m going to break your legs,” Jiang Cheng hissed at him. “I’m going to – to – oh, wait, actually, there is a reason we can’t go just yet. We’re expecting honored guests!”
Lan Wangji arched his eyebrows.
“You wouldn’t have seen the report yet, it’s still on our desk,” Jiang Cheng said. “You know of the Baixue Temple, right?”
Lan Wangji looked askance, indicating that he had of course heard of the temple, a renowned place of learning, but that he presumed that that was not what Jiang Cheng meant and also that perhaps Jiang Cheng would like to get to the point at some time before their deaths from old age.
“Fuck you too,” Jiang Cheng said conversationally, having learned the nuances of Lan Wangji’s expressions by now. “It was attacked recently, and rumor has it that it was Xue Yang that did it. Yes, the same Xue Yang who did the Chang clan massacre, the one the Jin sect was protecting before they washed their hands of him.”
Lan Wangji frowned.
“They made it through with relatively minimal casualties,” Jiang Cheng assured him. “Out of luck, mostly – when Xue Yang disappeared before his trial, the Nie sect made sure word got out everywhere, and Lianfeng-zun, who might’ve quashed it, even helped spread them, instead. From what I understand, Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen returned to Baixue Temple to make sure it wouldn’t be attacked over their part in Xue Yang’s initial arrest, as it later turned out to be - truly, evil is mundane and predictable. They led the defensive efforts and saved many lives.”
Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen –
Lan Wangji had heard Jiang Cheng speak of them before, of course. Rogue cultivators of considerable fame, who had refused all offers to join any of the sects, major or minor, but instead professed a desire to start a cultivation school of the old-fashioned sort, valuing affinity and merit over blood relation.
Not that that was what had caught the attention of Lan Wangj, or of Jiang Cheng for that matter.
Rather, it was said that Xiao Xingchen was a disciple of Baoshan Sanren, the famous immortal that lived secluded on the mountain. That made him Wei Wuxian’s martial uncle, and both of them were shamelessly interested in all things relating even tangentially to Wei Wuxian, however indirectly.
Jiang Cheng had sent several invitations for a visit back when the Chang clan disaster had happened. None had been accepted, which was probably all for the best – he had had to stop inviting them on account of how they’d angered the Jin sect over the matter.
(It had caused Jiang Cheng no end of nightmares, the feeling of complicity in a massacre just like the one that had destroyed his own sect sending him into a spiral of self-hatred, questioning his own morality and righteousness, wondering if his ancestors were judging him and finding him wanting, wondering if Wei Wuxian was –
It had not been a good time, a thankfully temporary reversion back to the bad days closer to the start. But Jiang Cheng was better now.)
“Why accept an invitation now?” Lan Wangji asked.
“They’re planning on hunting him down, I think, and having learned a little bit from last time, they want to get as many allies on board as possible in advance,” Jiang Cheng said, and shook his head at the depressing need to account for worldly politics when seeking to live a righteous life. A lesson hard-learned, for both of them. “They wrote to me first, this time. In return, I plan to indicate that they are welcome to come to the Lotus Pier to try to convince me – we’ll agree to help them, of course, but it’ll be nice to share a meal with them. Maybe some stories.”
“Mm,” Lan Wangji said. “And entertainment, of course.”
Jiang Cheng looked at him.
“We should take them night-hunting,” Lan Wangji elaborated, and Jiang Cheng scowled at him.
“There are oxen less stubborn than you! Donkeys! Geese!”
Lan Wangji was not a goose. A crane, perhaps, like Lan Sizhui – gentle and graceful and well-educated, with a sharp beak that most people overlooked.
He suspected Jiang Cheng would argue instead for the goose.
“I will write to my brother,” he said, opting to change the subject. “Xue Yang is a sensitive subject for his sworn brothers, as you know. It would be best to prepare him should they resume their fight with each other.”
“Oh, that’s just what we need,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “Lianfeng-zun and Chifeng-zun at each other’s throats again…did I tell you about the series of small but extremely irritating disasters that happened that time I was at Koi Tower? The room flooding, the too-thick incense, the – the thing with the cat –”
“I also recall you coming back from a night-hunt with Chifeng-zun with an expression suggesting that someone had put the fear of death into you, yes,” Lan Wangji said.
“It’s Chifeng-zun. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you avoiding any circumstances where he could have the same talk with you!”
Lan Wangji did not deny it. As he was not a sect leader, he could avoid such things with much greater ease than poor Jiang Cheng – who was glaring again.
“You should try harder to get along with him,” he remarked, and Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed even further. “You have many things in common –”
“Lan Wangji. You are, as A-Yuan’s father, permitted to set up as many playdates for him as you’d like. You are not permitted to do the same for me.”
Lan Wangji nodded, indicating that would give that all the consideration it deserved, namely none.
Jiang Cheng made a sound not unlike the whistling of a boiling pot.
Lan Wangji decided that a triumphant but timely retreat was appropriate.
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plush-anon · 3 years
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Would you ever write... a Scooby Doo and Phantom of the Opera crossover?
Ooooo, that would be a tough one to do. I would LOVE to say yes... but I honestly don’t know what I would really write, if that makes sense. 
(now allow me to vibrate intensely in place and hyperfixate over two of my earliest and most influential fandoms for about a thousand words please and thank you)
As much as I love these two fandoms (and I REALLY do. POTO 2004 helped pull me out of a REALLY ugly spiral in middle school - I dare say my worst - and Scooby Doo was THE fandom I first wrote/posted fanfiction for), meshing them would be... difficult.
Some Scooby properties have already played with Phantom some - Stage Fright actually did okay on their Phantom monster figure, esp in that he was a spirit focused on ego and NOT obsessing over Daphne (like they’ve done in other films - thanks Music of the Vampire TT_TT) - though considering every OTHER misstep made in that movie, it’s a damn miracle they even got THAT right. And Be Cool Scooby Doo had an episode with a Ghostly Prima Donna that hits a lot of the same points - amazing opera singer who wreaked havoc on a theatre when scorned by the owners.
(And if you wanna get into the actor side of it, Lego Scooby Doo: Haunted Hollywood’s plot focused on the ghost of a Boris Karloff/Lon Chaney Sr mashup haunting the studio with his horror characters, with the unmasking being the Mashup Actor JUNIOR wanting to carry on his dad’s legacy, a la Lon Chaney Jr. Again, not a great movie, but the mystery/monster element was handled alright)
The meshing of the two doesn’t really inspire much plot to it that hasn’t already been done to pieces. If it’s just a traditional Scooby mystery at a music competition the Phantom is trying to control/ruin, well - just see the above examples.  Regardless of the rest of the movie/episode’s flaws, WB actually did okay with the Phantom-esque elements. If it’s a modern POTO retelling with Mystery Inc trying to stop the Phantom, then, well. It’s basically rehashing Sherlock Holmes and the Phantom of the Opera adaptations all over again (of which there’s at least five and a comic miniseries - no joke, those actually exist), but with wacky hijinks and a talking dog. Not much new or interesting there, IMHO.
It would be VERY tired, low hanging fruit to have Daphne get kidnapped as the Christine replacement, and Velma’s family history is firmly established in Germany from Frankencreepy (and while that movie has... many problems, Velma’s family backstory is actually pretty damn good on its own, barring some minor quibbles over details mentioned).
I guess you could do Fred as like... the descendant of Raoul and Christine? Christine was OG Swedish in Leroux, and Fred’s family is primarily blonde and blue-eyed by WNSD standards (I refuse SDMI on principle). There could be something about Fred being targeted by Erik for conflicting reasons, his spirit sent into extreme emotional flux with what was Raoul and Christine’s great-great something grandson, while another mystery goes on framing Erik for something else... There could be something there, but I wouldn’t be the one to do it; main reason being, I am NOT great at writing Fred. 
For me, Fred is a difficult character to write, period; I have a better time of it with the live action Scooby movies Fred because I can play around with the flaws (read: bashing in the first movie) more. Fred in general is a tough character to write bc he’s played as the straight man, the generic leader (tho I forever mourn my lost draft of my post-SCOOB AU mashup with Orpheus in Eurydice - I actually had him there! *cries*).
More recent stuff plays around with him being an engineer - BCSD played him up as a neurodivergent mechanic, and I love that one to pieces - or a charming enough if frustrating at times himbo (WNSD), or in some cases an obnoxiously jealous dumbass who doesn’t know how to use buttons or listen to basic fcuking instructions (Moon Monster Madness, Music of the Vampire, also WNSD) or occasionally the dude SO obsessed with the Mystery Machine he may actually want to fcuk it (Frankencreepy, Happy Halloween SD!).
On the whole though, he’s not one ever really associated with music except when forced unrealistically (see again, Stage Fright for the sake of Fraphne baiting that they NEVER fcuking act on in these movies, to the point it’s legitimately frustrating and cheap to pull - Stage Fright esp so, bc Fred and Daphne spend the ENTIRE goddamn movie talking about having feelings for each other, KISS ON STAGE, and WHAT do they do?!? WHAT DO THEY DO?!??!?! THEY QUESTION THE KISS AND REVERT BACK TO STATUS QUO GODDAMNIT IT I’M JUST WHY) or when the gang is suddenly a band (WNSD, Legend of the Vampire, a background shot with him playing guitar in Witch’s Ghost, BCSD Screama Donna) or both (honestly all of the above, though BCSD played it for laughs best with Fred on the drums).
The closest we EVER got to Fred being interested in singing/music was an old ‘Behind the Characters’ short Hanna Barbera made for Cartoon Network, where Fred admitted he used to be in theatre and loved singing tunes from Showboat.
So him being the tie to Erik feels like a dead end to me. Not impossible, but still just... yeah, not a clean fit in my mind.
As for Shaggy and Scooby... they have enough problems to deal with without adding Erik on top of everything else. ‘Nuff said.
So yeah, unfortunately I have to say no on this one. There’s nothing I feel like I could do in them that wasn’t already tired (as opposed to the ROTG/POTO mashups I thought up forever ago), but hey, that could just be me.
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Destiel Trope Collection 2019 Day 28: Soulmates
Too Many Zeroes | @isolemnlyswear-iamsuperwholocked Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2896 Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmates Castiel & Dean Winchester, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Strangers to Lovers, First Meetings, Castiel and Dean Winchester First Meet, Lonely Castiel, Misunderstandings, Sexuality misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending Summary: Honestly, Castiel doesn't have any idea why he turns away from the familiar apartment block and enters the local bar on the corner. He tells himself it's because it's cold outside and his coat isn't keeping him warm enough, because his apartment is too dark and lonely, because it's a Friday night and he hasn't gone out anywhere in ages. He tells himself that it doesn't matter if he goes, that it won't delay the inevitable disappointment that's going to happen tonight. But now he's walking through the door, and sitting at the counter, and ordering a drink, so he might as well make the most of the terrible night his soulmate clock finally reaches zero.
Near Misses | @imbiowaresbitch Rating: Explicit Word Count: 27212 Main Tags and Warnings: Cheating, explicit sex, consent, light bdsm Summary: Five times Cas and Dean almost met, plus the time they finally did.
Meeting my roommate...damn he's fine | @roobear68 Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 9725 Main Tags and Warnings: Underage, soulmates, past abuse, social anxiety Summary: Dean Winchester is a genius, who has horrible nighttime anxiety which manifests itself in nightmares. Castiel Shurley is a genius who has social anxiety which manifests itself in him being awkward. Columbia University decided to make them roommates. Fate decided to make them SoulMates.
Collapsed Rainbows | @suckerfordeansfreckles Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 6125 Main Tags and Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, soulmate AU, soulmates, first touch leaves a mark, nurse!Cas, hospitals, blood and injury, hurt/comfort Summary: Dean wakes up on his 18th birthday, giddy and a little scared, and rips his blanket off of himself to start searching his hands for the soulmark that is supposed to appear somewhere on his body today. Nothing. His arms. Nothing. Shoulders, upper body, legs. Nothing. It’s okay, he tells himself, don’t panic yet. But then he rushes to the bathroom and braces himself on the edge of the sink to look up into the mirror, and it’s right there. Black streaks and blotches along the edge of his jaw, dark like ink. Marks like the imprints of knuckles meeting Dean’s chin. It takes him a little while to fully realizes what this means. That his soulmark is there, for everyone to see, right on his face, impossible to hide. That his soulmate’s first touch will be a punch to Dean’s face.
Birds | @lemonsorbae Rating: General Word Count: 1542 Main Tags and Warnings: Soulmates, First Kiss, Fluff, SPN Universe - Canon Divergent Summary: Dean’s just been rescued from Hell by an angel who’s making outrageous claims and staring way too much.
I Knew All Along It Was You | @pherryt Rating: General Word Count: 3157 Main Tags and Warnings: Soulmate AU, Soulmates, blind!cas, self worth issues, Angst, Fluff, Low Self Esteem Summary: Almost nothing is actually known about the new phenomenon of Soul Marks, but one thing is certain - no one's ever gotten one past the age of 30. Dean's 29 and in love with his best friend when his finally appears. His only hope is that Cas has the matching one. He has to, right?
J Train | @drawlight Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7129 Main Tags and Warnings: Soulmates, Romance, Pining, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Feelings Realization, AU - Human Summary: If you want to be somebody, you have to go to the Chelsea Hotel. In 1979, aspiring writer Castiel Novak takes room 109. His roommate is not quite what he expected.
Syncopation | @thebloggerbloggerfun Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 14900 Main Tags and Warnings: Celebrity!Castiel Summary: Dean Winchester is almost fine with not knowing who his soulmate is. He's got a good life, good family, and doesn't mind the one night stands with others who also haven't found someone with their same soulmark. It isn't until Sam shows Dean a picture of the pop-star Castiel - a celebrity infamous for hiding his soulmark among hundreds of other tattoos - that Dean thinks he may have found his soulmate. But how is he supposed to let a worldwide phenomenon know that they belong together - and will Castiel even care?
Fate | @galaxystiel Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1338 Main Tags and Warnings: Anti Soulmate AU, homophobic John Winchester, established relationship Summary: “C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Dean tugged Castiel towards the storefront. “Don’t you want to find out who your soulmate is? Who you’re fated to be with?”
Timer | @galaxystiel Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2147 Main Tags and Warnings: Human!Castiel, Soulmate AU, angst with a happy ending Summary: Dean doesn't have a soulmate, but if he did, he swears it would be Castiel Novak.
Written in the Stars | @lunastories Rating: Mature Word Count: 36900 Main Tags and Warnings: Wing fic, Alien Castiel, Domestic fluff Summary: In the beginning of time itself, there were many Celestials, stardust beings that populated the galaxies. Then, the Fallen came into existence, devouring them. Castiel, one of the last of the Celestials, descended onto Earth by orders of his garrison leader. What he finds there is the soul he lost long ago, the other part of him that he'd been searching for. Dean was a normal guy, living his life and trying to take care of his errant researcher brother. When his brother asks him for a favor, claiming that an alien wants to speak to him, he's of course skeptical. He didn't expect that meeting to change the course of his entire life, throwing him into a war that he wasn't prepared for.
By Any Other Name | @funnywings Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 36695 Main Tags and Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Soul Mate AU, Societal Issues, Established Relationship Summary: After a home invasion ends in the deaths of Amelia and James Novak, Dean and Castiel think the worst of their problems is going to be handling their grief and making sure their niece Claire adjusts to living with them. Unfortunately, despite both James' and Amelia's wills indicating they want to pass on guardianship to Dean and Cas in the event of their death, they are denied as legal guardians since they can not confirm whether they are a soul mates. After hearing this, they contact Charlie, a lawyer who promises to help them.
Duck Duck Boots | @almaasi Rating: Explicit Word Count: 92927 Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Soulmates, Biker Dean, Teacher Dean, Crossdressing Dean, Dean in Panties, Bisexual Dean, Soft Dean, Switch Dean, Bottom Dean, Veterinarian Castiel, Lonely Castiel, Depressed Castiel, Agoraphobic Castiel, Switch Castiel, Dominant Castiel, Matchmaker Rowena, Animal Care, Tantric Sex, Impotence, Magic Realism, Wet & Messy Sex, Accidental Watersports Summary: Castiel doesn’t do one-night stands. Once he hit forty, he figured his time was up, his life had pretty much come to a halt, and there was nobody out there for him. He lives in a cute little village, riding his bicycle between his vet clinic and his cottage; that’s his world, and he’s given up on expanding it. But in one last, desperate attempt to find someone, he contacts Rowena, the local witch, and asks her to summon his soulmate. Rowena brings a storm. The storm washes up a trio of ducklings, huddled for shelter inside the rainboots of the new-to-town kindergarten teacher (and retired motorcycle daredevil), Dean Winchester. Ducklings in hand, Dean seeks out Castiel’s veterinary expertise. Somehow, in a flustered, spontaneous burst of attraction, they spend the night together. And just like that, Castiel’s life starts again. With every passing week they become better friends, sharing deeper intimacies, caring for their duck babies as well as each other. But staying together requires taking risks which neither of them planned for. Dean’s risk puts him in extreme physical jeopardy. And Cas? He has to overcome fifteen years of emotional hurt, just to follow where Dean leads.
Serendipity My Ass | @sternchencas Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 12104 Main Tags and Warnings: doctor!Cas, nurse!Dean, enemies to lovers Summary: Dean Winchester has a particularly bad day. Not only does he have a thousand things to do, like grocery shopping and getting to a doctor’s appointment, he also keeps running into Castiel Novak, an annoying and impolite douche who’s only reason to exist is making Dean’s live a living hell. When Castiel also shows up at Dean’s workplace, things are about to get ugly. After all, Castiel is neither cute nor nice, and definitely not Dean’s type.
Dean, 2 pm | @sternchencas Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1464 Main Tags and Warnings: suicidal thoughts, emotional hurt/comfort Summary: Cas is done with his life. He's ready to end it all. The only thing that might be able to change his mind is one little note in his calendar that says 'Dean, 2 pm'.
Calm, at Peace, Happy | @suckerfordeansfreckles Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1352 Main Tags and Warnings: Soulmate AU, Soulmarks, Circus AU, Getting Together Summary: In a world of color and noise and constant action, Dean often has a hard time grasping just how much calm and ease Cas brings into his life. It shouldn’t be this easy, really, not with how stressful Dean’s life has been ever since he joined the circus two years ago. But since the very first day, since the very first time Dean got to watch Cas perform in the ring, this has been his happy place. The only time he gets to calm down, except maybe for the few hours of sleep he gets every night. It’s been two years, and Dean is still not over it. Will never get over it, probably.
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sadstonewrites · 4 years
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Celestial Steel: Fractured Psyche
Hello friends :) this is my AO3 work that I have decided to begin crossposting onto tumblr in order to reach a wider audience in the Colossus Thirst Collective, as well as just for fans of Colossus in general. This is a large series and I will be posting it in chunks on here, but the full story is already uploaded onto AO3 if you’re feeling impatient. So, without further ado, here we go! 
Also, just to avoid confusion later on, My OC (Lane) uses they/them pronouns and identifies as nonbinary! 
Pairings: Piotr Rasputin (Colossus) x OC
Rated M
Chapter 1
Police are now engaged in a high speed chase on the interstate involving a pedestrian taxi and a biochemical transport truck that was reportedly hijacked outside of the Belrose Pharmaceutical manufacturing plant, a subsidiary of the Rand Corporation. According to authorities, the truck was reported missing and its driver was found killed in the company loading dock early this morning. It is unknown at this time if the driver of the taxi is aligned with the hijackers -
Piotr Rasputin’s phone rang and he frowned at the caller ID. With a sigh, and a careful press as to not break any of the screen (again), he picked it up.
“Wade-”
“Hey Chromedome, you busy?” Wade’s voice crowed over the speaker.
In the background, Piotr could hear police sirens and Bollywood music playing over a radio. Piotr had to mute the television just to confirm what he was hearing, and groaned at the realization that yes, it was Wade in the taxi involved in the high speed chase. How Dopinder had been able to keep his license was beyond him.
“Wade, please tell me you had nothing to do with what I am seeing on news.”
“Okay, then I won’t tell you. But just if, y’know, you wanted to take a break from jerking off the other X-Men and come on down here, for funsies, that’d be cool.”
Piotr pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and leaned forward into his knees, causing the coach to groan underneath him. “Wade, we have talked about this. Our agreement was that X-Men would allow X-Force to operate and not get involved unless necessary, doing so otherwise is waste of resources and risks endangering -”
“But this is necessary! Okay, that last time with the mattress stores being a front for mutant cage fighting was my bad, but do you have anything better to do?” Wade sighed into the receiver. “Don’t make me admit that I actually need your help with this.”
“What about Cable or Domino -?”
There was the sound of a struggle and Cable’s voice came onto the phone. “We’re already here, big guy.” Cable said, “and he’s actually right about this one. They’re transporting about a hundred barrels of biochemical material in that truck, and something tells me that whatever roadblock they set up isn’t going to be stopping them.”
“A suicide bomber?” Piotr asked, jumping to his feet at the realization.
“Looks like it.” Cable confirmed. “I’ve only picked up one heat signature in the truck cabin, but there’s movement in the back with all the chemicals. Might be hostages.”
“Give me that -” Wade yelled from the background. There was a sound of a struggle and Wade’s voice came back on. “But, yeah. Aren’t the X-Men all about protecting civilians or some shit?”
“Well yes but -”
“But nothing, get off your shiny metal ass and get over here! Bring NTW too, fun for the whole family.”
He hung up and Piotr groaned, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Ellie and Yukio just happened to be walking by, and stuck their heads in at the sight of their mentor standing in the middle of the room.
“Who was that on the phone?” Yukio asked, pulling Ellie into the room behind her.
“Guess,” came Piotr’s defeated reply. He was torn - for Wade to admit he needed help was a cause for concern all on it’s own, but if this turned out to be a bust, it would be his head on the chopping block.
“I thought that after that mattress store fiasco, the deal was that we let them go out and make a mess as long as they clean it up?” Ellie asked, annoyance evident in her voice.
“It is deal. But this might be bigger mess than they can handle.” Piotr stood and walked back out into the hall, the two girls tailing behind him. He reached the elevator and pressed a button, all three stepping inside the metal interior. Ellie pressed the ‘down’ button and turned to face her mentor. “What about Cable and Domino?”
“Already there.”
“Scott isn’t going to like this.” Yukio quietly said, saying what all three of them were thinking. The de-facto leader of the X-Men, Scott had a bone to pick with Deadpool and had banished him from the grounds of the mansion on more than one occasion. Not that anyone had blamed him, especially with the amount of antics that Deadpool had the habit of getting into. He had been the one to raise the issue of using resources for X-Force missions, and as much as everyone thought it was kind of a dick move for doing so, he had a point.
Piotr grimaced, knowing he was already going to be getting an earful about this later. “I trust Deadpool, when he says he needs help, we help. Sometimes for better or worse. But, we are X-Men, it’s what we do. For better or worse.”
They descended into the basement hangar and Ellie and Yukio split off towards their respective lockers to get changed. Piotr practically lived in his uniform - more practical that way - and went ahead to warm up the jet.
“Have you eaten? Had water?” Piotr asked, calling out to the two trainees. “I brought snacks.”
“We’re good,” replied Ellie, stepping out in her suit and following him into the jet. A look from Piotr and she took a bottle of water from his duffel bag, if only to placate him. Yukio took a granola bar as well, just for good measure. Piotr closed the ramp and hit a button, the ceiling above the jet opening up above them.
“Buckle in.” He cautioned, taking the controls into his hands and thrusting them upwards. The jet soundlessly came to life and took off like a shot into the sky, leaving nothing but an empty spot in the hangar.
It didn’t take long for the jet to reach the interstate, cutting through the clouds and flying over the skyline at an extreme speed.
“There’s the truck,” Ellie called back into the cabin of the jet. “And the taxi.”
“And the police.” Yukio replied. Looking out the front windows, sure enough there was a solid line of police cars blocking the end of the highway, and more that were closely following Dopinder’s taxi.
“Get us in closer.” Piotr said, his phone buzzing in his pocket. He picked it up and held the phone back from his ear as Wade’s voice screamed into the receiver.
“Hey Chrome-rad, glad you could make it, we have a plan. Like, a super awesome, blockbuster action movie plan -” There was a shout and Wade’s voice was cut off and replaced by Cable.
“We’re going to pull up beside of it and disconnect the trailer from it’s cab -”
“Would you stop doing that!” Wade’s voice came back on. “Then Cable’s gonna use the force to try and slow the trailer down to keep it from going boom.”
“It’s not the force, Wade.” Cable groaned in the background.
“Would you two knock it off?” Domino’s voice came on the line. “That leaves the cab. We reckon there’s about 500 yards between the cab and the police blockade. How confident are you in your landings?”
“Landings?” Piotr asked, looking out the window to see Dopinder’s cab speeding up to pull beside the truck.
“Not all of us can exactly take a truck to the face and walk it off. Get in front of the truck and stop it. And uh, Good luck.” She hung up.
From outside the window, Piotr could see Wade’s red-clad body hanging halfway out of Dopinder’s taxi, reaching for the small space between the cab and the trailer. He flung himself out of the open door and onto the walkway, frantically beginning to cut the cables connecting the truck to the trailer.
“Bozhe moi. Ellie, bring us in low and open the ramp.”
The jet lurched as Ellie dropped it down lower, Piotr’s stomach lurching likewise. The ramp opened up, the wind rushing into the cabin and the road stretching open below him.
“The trailer is loose!” Yukio yelled from up in the cabin, her soft voice nearly getting lost in the noise of the wind. “Jump!"
There was a horrid screeching sound - Cable’s telekinesis pulling the trailer backwards in an attempt to slow it down. Saying a quick prayer to whomever happened to be listening, Piotr jumped feet first outside the jet into the air, quickly falling to the earth.
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momtemplative · 4 years
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One-Act Play
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1.
It was the summer of 2004. I was living at 940 North Street in Boulder, in the strange kind of rental property you can only get away with in your twenties. It was dilapidated and half-swallowed by shrubbery, but also rustic and quaint, a slice of woods in the middle of town. (A raccoon had babies in my ski boots out back.) It was few blocks from the mountains and a few more blocks to Pearl Street. I used to ride a hand-me-down bike that was heavy as wrought-iron down to the Trident Coffee Shop on Pearl Street and pretend I was a “real” writer. 
(I parked and tripped over the very same bike during the very same summer to greet my buddy, Lisa, and her friend, Jesse, who were enjoying a drink at an outside table at the Corner Bar. That was the first time I met Jesse, and the summer of 2004 is when our romance began. But that story is for a different day.) 
I had just quit my job after a year of working as a receptionist at a chiropractic office. I’d had it with a passive-aggressive boss and no growth potential. I was living with my former African drum teacher and his girlfriend. They ascribed fully to the phrase you-only-live-once and they buzzed with a sort of free-spiritedness that would make my mom cringe. So when I quit my (responsible if people-pleasing and self-sacrificing) job, fate had it so I was living with them, with their input that said, Good Riddance. Now what do you really want to do?
In a bold act of maternal generosity, my mom wrote me a check that covered tuition for the entire month of the Summer Writing Program at Naropa’s Jack Karoac School of Disembodied Poetics. (Naropa, a Buddhist college in Boulder, CO.) I signed up for one week with artist /dancer, Michelle Ellsworth, and used the extra on rent and groceries. (I’d been in Colorado for all of two years and I was barely able to make ends meet even before my new status of being unemployed.)
I picked Michelle randomly;  I liked her picture in the brochure. I can envision her now, as clearly as if I had a Fotomatic print of her in my hands. Clear blue eyes like crystals you hang in the window to shoot rainbow-slivers into the space. A wide, shiny smile. She spoke to our crowded class with a quick, giggly cadence, like the tick of a wound-up clock. Any details blur into the oblivion of non-essential memory, but her imprint, like that of a fossilized leaf on a river stone, hasn’t faded in the slightest.
2.
Our assignment was to write a one-act play about anything.
940 North was entirely furnished in one afternoon from the Habitat for Humanity Thrift store, and its décor was mostly provided by an old lady’s estate sale. I had emptied out the closet in my bedroom to make a writing nook. I had an ancient laptop and a borrowed printer. We definitely did NOT have Internet; I had to use the computers at the college for that. This was still an era where Internet could be used intermittently and intentionally—for checking email and other specific to-dos that required only a finite amount of time. This was before Internet was available and necessary for us to receive continuously and at a heavy drip.
I had not slacked. I didn’t procrastinate. To the contrary—I cleared my calendar for this assignment, took it way too seriously and tried WAY too hard. I wanted so badly to be awesome at this, but after two complete afternoons, I could barely pinch out a coherent sentence.
On the due date, Michelle said, “Ok, let’s go around and have everyone tell us about their play.”
Bla, bla, bla, blur, blur, everyone did their assignment, no problem, until the spotlight landed on me with, it seemed, the sound of brakes coming to a screeching halt. I cleared my throat and shifted in my chair.
“I didn’t finish it.” I said. I felt a clenching desire to fold up and hide. The back of my skull droned like the sudden onset of a fever.
She smiled without a fleck of irony. “Then tell me what you did instead.”
Okay...? So many eyes on me...”Honestly? I re-organized my closet. Then I stared at a blank screen.  Then I ate a bunch of potato chips. Then I typed a few words and printed a page, tossed it into the trash, hung out with my roommates and cleaned my toilet. It went on like that for hours, two full afternoons.”
“Well then that’s your play,” Michelle said, giddy with the proposal. “Anyone want to help Heather out with this one?” Four hands from four complete strangers shot up.
3.
Low, behold, later that week, the five of us lined up on stage like human-cogs in the grand machine that was to be our performance.
I, PERSON ONE: typed furiously on a typewriter, then I pulled out the paper and handed it to the person to my left. Then I started again, and it went on like this.
PERSON TWO: crumbled up the paper and threw it into a bucket of water, then put a hand out my way for another paper to crumple and dunk. Our movements were stiff and mechanical.
PERSON THREE: pulled the paper out of the bucket, squeezed it then smoothed it flat on a towel. Then she looked up to pretend-talk to an invisible person, while pulling another paper from the water.
PERSON FOUR: grabbed the wet paper from the towel and handed it to the next person.  Then he shoved a handful of potato chips from a bag open directly in front of him into his mouth, before grabbing and passing another one.
PERSON FIVE: placed the wet paper overtop a balloon that was held steady onto a table with tape, and then another wet paper and another.  
It went like this, a factory line going going going through at least six cycles, each of us doing our part to assemble a visual-thought from beginning to end, without fighting or judging—just reporting.
When the last piece of paper whizzed out of my typewriter and was handed to the next person, I froze. Then, each of the four remaining performers did their respective actions and froze, until PERSON FIVE was the only one moving. He plastered the final wet paper to the balloon and held it up for observation. Then the scene went dark, and, applause.
The idea that there is information (dare I say wisdom, creativity) in the non-doing, the over-doing, and everything in between, shattered my archaic notions of black-and-white thinking. It created grand pockets of space for curiosity to germinate. Curiosity— the grand antidote to perfectionism.
4.
I could not undo this teaching even if I tried. 
I pull it out now as a sort of valuable overlay to everyday life. It breathes oxygen into the mundane moments, and works as sort of a salve when shit doesn’t go as planned, which is the New Normal. Let the record show, I’ve had young kids in my life for the passed decade-plus, so I’m accustomed to lack of control. And yet, I’ve always also had certain chunks of the day when I was guaranteed some sense of command over my own actions. While Ruth was in preschool, 12 hours a week, I worked and did adult life, making choices that actually happened. At a bare minimum, I had that.
Now we are dwelling in the land of a thousand distractions, with no reprieve. There is no boat off this island. No departures in the near future. It often feels like the how the day unfolds is entirely up to some larger sources that I have utterly no influence on. Is Ruth in the mood to play independently for any stretch of time today? Is she up for watching a TV show while I do a little writing? Will she spend more than five minutes on an art project without descending into coloring her eyeballs with face paint or covering an entire palm in glitter glue? One never knows. One can only pray.
Truth: It took me an hour to write and send a three-line email this morning. The staggering disruptions became almost comical. Ruth fell down FOUR separate times. This is an extreme example, almost as if her nervous system could sense my focus was elsewhere and ran a smear campaign against Mom Completing Any Singular Task. But, if perhaps a lighter version, this is a typical day.
Before Michelle, I may have regarded these off-script moments as those of non-doing, small fails to wrestle with until I can get my “actual shit done.” But today I can see there is so much more there. Choices, aggravation, empathy, my physical body, the body of my wild-puppy preschooler, suppressed laughter, expressed laughter, suppressed annoyance, expressed annoyance—all are contained in these moderately priced moments.
Then you add a blizzard. In the last four days, we’ve gotten multiple feet of snow. The world is covered in a suffocating wool blanket, itchy and hard to breathe underneath. The snow outside—higher than the dog’s belly!!—squeezes us between the walls of this house, everything inside seems tighter and louder because of the outside’s sound-deadening insulation.
So there’s my one-act play for today.
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cbcdiversity · 5 years
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Author Interview with Robin Talley
What inspired you to write Pulp?
I read one of the earliest lesbian pulp novels years ago when I was doing research for another book — Marijane Meaker’s groundbreaking Spring Fire, published in 1952 — and I was mesmerized, both by the story itself and by the world it presented. It focused on the relationship between two deeply closeted lesbians living in a time when being who they were meant having to go to extreme lengths to keep their sexuality a secret, and facing horrific consequences if they ever slipped up (which of course they did). I learned that there was an entire wave of these novels, some of which sold millions of copies, all during a time and place when anyone who didn’t conform to expected norms faced terrible oppression. I wanted to explore that culture, and I thought it would be interesting to look at it through the lens of a teenage character in the present day — someone to whom all of this would seem like irrelevant ancient history, until she probes a little deeper and finds out it’s anything but.
Pulp is set in Washington, D.C., with two separate storylines taking place in two very distinct periods in American history — the summer of 1955 and the autumn of 2017. Exactly how different were these two eras?
The main characters in both of Pulp’s storylines are lesbians, but they have very different experiences in how their communities view their sexuality. What are the biggest differences between them?
Here, we do see very concrete differences. One of Pulp’s two narrators, Janet, who’s 18 years old in 1955 and secretly trying her hand at writing a lesbian pulp novel, has known she’s attracted to girls for some time, but had never heard the word lesbian until she read it in a book she found at a bus station. The other narrator, Abby, who’s 17 in 2017, discovers the world of lesbian pulp fiction from an article she randomly clicks on after looking up queer fanfic about her favorite show. Abby’s been out to her parents and everyone else she knows since she was a high school freshman. Janet never considers coming out to her parents — and if they did find out, she assumes they’d send her promptly off to an asylum to be cured. Although there are certainly still plenty of LGBTQ teens in the present day who can’t come out safely — and although conversion therapy is still legal in most of the United States — there’s no question we’ve made massive progress in terms of mainstream acceptance of same-sex relationships over the past few decades, and Abby and Janet’s experiences very much reflect that progress.
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In the 1955 storyline of Pulp, the characters are also living through the Lavender Scare. What was the Lavender Scare, and why isn’t it more widely known?
The Lavender Scare, which happened at the same time as the second Red Scare (again, during the McCarthy era and the years that followed) was a massive effort by the U.S. federal government to identify lesbian, gay, and bisexual government employees and fire them. Police officers raided gay bars and turned over the names of anyone they found to the federal government so they could check their employment rolls. Meanwhile, investigators eagerly took tips from other employees and conducted highly biased interrogations. Anyone could report that they suspected a coworker of homosexuality, based on things like their voice being too high or too low, their hair being too short or too long, or any other personal traits that might be considered a deviation from the expected gender norm. Thousands of people were fired from their jobs and unable to get new ones due to the rumors that inevitably spread. Many were also forcibly outed to their families in an era when outing frequently meant disownment. Suicides of former federal employees were common.
As for why it isn’t more widely known — a lot of people involved didn’t want to talk about it publicly at the time, because that would risk opening themselves up to further scrutiny and potential negative consequences. Plus, of course, the people who have generally been in charge of deciding how history is taught have usually chosen not to center the experiences of marginalized communities, so stories like this one are more likely to get left out of classes and textbooks.
In Pulp’s 2017 storyline, the main character and her friends are very conscious of social justice and regularly go to political protests. Why did you include this thread in their story?
Like the characters in Pulp, I live in Washington, D.C., and for years I’ve witnessed and attended many, many demonstrations that are also attended by many, many local teenagers. Teens have always been engaged in politics and social justice, because they understand that these issues touch their lives directly and that one day their generation will be in charge of deciding how to approach these questions. Teen activism has taken on a deeper resonance under our current administration, which is going out of its way to harm marginalized communities. It’s been wonderful to see so many young people speak out and take action when they’re up against something so terrible, and I wanted to capture a little of that in this story.
What do you hope readers will take away from Pulp?
That none of this is new. We’ve been fighting for social justice for many, many generations. Some of the arguments we’re having now are different from the arguments we had in the mid-twentieth century, but in a lot of ways, many of them aren’t that different. We’re currently witnessing a movement to go backward, with politicians attempting to re-litigate issues that many people in my generation naively grew up thinking had already been resolved. We have to be mindful of what came before us so we don’t repeat the mistakes of the past, and so we can fight back against the people who want to take us there on purpose.
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Robin Talley is the New York Timesbestselling author of five novels for teen readers: Pulp (coming November 2018), Our Own Private Universe, As I Descended, What We Left Behind and Lies We Tell Ourselves, all of which focus on LGBTQ characters. Her first book, Lies We Tell Ourselves, was the winner of the inaugural Amnesty CILIP Honour and short-listed for the CILIP Carnegie Medal. Her short stories have appeared in the young adult collections Toil & Trouble: 15 Tales of Women & Witchcraft, All Out: The No-Longer-Secret Stories of Queer Teens throughout the Ages, A Tyranny of Petticoats: 15 Stories of Belles, Bank Robbers and Other Badass Girls, and Feral Youth.
Robin lives in Washington, D.C., with her wife and their daughter. She enjoys reading about queer characters, analyzing Disney movies, and chocolate. You can find her at www.robintalley.com.
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jjbaconsumedmysoul · 7 years
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Weather Report x Reader: “Hope”
It was your fate to be pushed around, trampled over by the bitter murderers and thieves who had ended up getting caught by the law. No matter how much you screamed, how hard you fought back, the prisoners would knock you down. But that was before you met them. You probably wouldn’t have survived long at the Green Dolphin Street Prison if it weren’t for them.
You thought nothing of it as you freely traversed the halls. It was one of the few times you were allowed out of your cell, and you didn't want to spend it with any of the other prisoners. However, you heard a noise.
You bit your lip in irritation, not wishing to cross paths with anyone when you were in such a foul mood, but the hushed footsteps were far away, so you brushed them off for the time being. It was about time for you to head back to your cell anyway. So you rounded the next corner.
However, you caught a glint out of the corner of your eye, and paused. It had been a man, standing at the bottom of the stairwell. A strangely clothed man, with a tattered navy body suit and a tall and fuzzy hat. But he had disappeared as soon as you caught sight of him, right into… into the wall?
Your curiosity drew you down the stairs and to the cold stone wall. It was strange, this sudden occurrence didn't startle you. You had your fair share of paranormal incidents in the past. In fact, that was what had landed you in prison...
Curiously, you descended the stairs, eyeing the corner where you swear a man had been just a moment before. As you approached the scene, your hand lifted to the stone, expecting to feel the rough and grainy texture of the bricks. You gasped.
There was only air. Your fingers slipped through the wall as if nothing was there, disappearing beyond the grey rock. Carefully, you reached your arm further, into the portal, or whatever it might have been.
Suddenly, you felt a hand grasp your wrist. You let out a short cry as you were yanked through the wall, gasping to regain your breath as your body was forced to the ground, a strong and muscular frame driving you to the floor. Your head reeled as it snapped against the hard floor and you winced in pain. He pinned down your arms, allowing you no room to so much as lift your head.
When your dizziness had faded and your lungs began to work again, though your body still trembled with the shock, you inspected the man. It was the same man you had seen disappear at the bottom of the stairs. His dark and striking eyes seemed to bore through your soul itself. He seemed wrathful yet stoic, almost as if he was interrogating you without even using words. His firm grip wrapped around your wrists, his thighs caged your pelvis. Your face flushed at the surprise, the fear, and his own harsh intimidation. He continued to scrutinize your form, his gaze tracing every inch of your body for some hint of recognition. Yet he never spoke.
“W-Who…” The words escaped your lips through the pants and gasps. “Who are you?” You winced as your question was met with a sudden force, pushing you even further into the floor. It was then that you noticed where you were.
It was not the cold stone floor of the prison. It was a soft red rug. In the corner of your eye, you could see a large grand piano looming over you, a chandelier lighting the elegant room.
But the man shoved you again, his face looming closer. You squirmed as his hot breath tickled your cheek.
“Who are you?” His voice was low, almost a whisper. But he was terrifying all the same as his sapphire eyes pierced through your thoughts. You began to stutter, but knew not what to say. You were a prisoner, like everyone else, like him… He was a prisoner, wasn't he?
He shook you again, this time growling menacingly.
“My name is (y/n) (l/n)!” You spat out as you gasped. “I’m just another inmate, I saw you slip through,” Your voice shook as you searched for words. “You walked through the wall and I followed,” His grip began to loosen.
“You’re not a user?” His eyes continued to study you as his sultry voice permeated the silence.
“A… A user?” You raised your eyebrow in confusion. Then, you heard another voice.
“Weather, what are you doing?” The tone was high and boyish, innocent. Far too innocent for a prison inmate…
The man who had been pinning you to the ground sat up, his eyes still distrusting and scrutinizing, but less harsh than they had been before. You stared up at his broad frame, your face burning with the flood of emotions: terror, confusion, embarrassment. A boy appeared over his shoulder. He spoke again.
“They’re telling the truth. They don’t know anything. They don’t even know that they have a stand.” You lay frozen on the ground as the muscular man slowly climbed off of you. Gradually, you sat up as you inspected the two: The tall, dark man with the large fur hat, the small boy in the baseball uniform.
“What’s a stand?”
You finally learned why supernatural occurrences always seemed to follow you throughout your life, why you couldn’t get along with others, why you were different. But it was okay, because they were different too. They all had stands, and still managed to live a relatively quiet life, albeit in jail.
But still, they had saved you from the hell that was Green Dolphin Street Prison. It became your home. The music room became your home. Each day you would visit Emporio, Anasui, and, the one whose company you enjoyed most: Weather. Weather Report was quite an interesting name, it almost made you giggle with an amused curiosity every time you said it out loud. You still couldn't quite pin down what you liked about him.
Soon after you met him, he apologised profusely for his actions. However, though he seemed confident, he was still extremely awkward in his actions. You couldn't help but chuckle nervously as he stood there, just inches away from your face, his eyebrows still furrowed and stern as he uttered a quiet “I am very sorry I attacked you. I will try not to do it again.”
Several weeks passed, and you grew close to all three. Any time you were allowed out of your cell was spent in the music room. For the first time since you entered the iron gates, you felt close to someone. Sometimes you skipped meals so you could spend some peace and quiet with your only friends. However Weather seemed to express a bit of concern when you told him this, frowning and pensive as he leaned against the wall. He was always caring in his own way: he didn't express it through smiles or physical affection. He showed his compassion when he showed up the next day with a large basket of fruits and chocolates.
You gasped and giggled as you gladly accepted the offer.
“Weather! You really didn't need to do this for me!” He forced the package into your arms with a solemn expression. However, you could see the faintest tint of pink across his cheeks, and he avoided eye contact, a gesture which was quite unusual for him.
“You need to eat. It's not good to skip meals.” You smiled at his tenderness, and followed your first instinct of pulling him into a hug. A small gasp slipped from his lips, but you pretended not to notice as you drew back, taking the large gift from his hands. He turned to excuse himself, but you grabbed his shoulder before he could even take a step.
“Please, stay Weather.”
This was the perfect time. Neither Emporio nor Anasui were there at the moment, and you had been wanting a chance to speak with Weather alone. Even if you spoke to each other every day, you never had the chance to ask him about himself, about how he came to the prison, who he was before he discovered Emporio and his stand. You enjoyed the small talk you two had made, the strangely philosophical conversations, the jokes you made that completely went over his head. But you wanted to really get to know him.
He heeded your request as you set the basket of treats on the small table. You reached for a bar of chocolate, carefully unwrapping the foil to break off a small chunk. Weather raised his eyebrows as you handed a it to him. He seemed curious, bemused. He slowly accepted the piece, bringing it to his lips and nibbling at the corner. You took a small bite of your own, relishing in the delicious taste.
“So, Weather,” You began, not really knowing how you should start the conversation. But considering that Weather wasn't much of a smooth-talker himself, you felt you had nothing to lose. “How did you get that name?” You glanced up at him, innocently, with unbridled curiosity. His composure seemed to buckle under your gaze, and he quickly swallowed the bite of chocolate.
“I-I,” His face grew flustered as he stammered, and his fists clenched as his brow began to sweat. But he quickly regained his calm and stern stare. “I don't know. I don’t know anything before this prison.” Your face grew hot with embarrassment for asking him such a question. “I have no recollection of my real name, my real family. I don’t know where I came from or how I got here–” Your arms wrapped around him in a tender embrace. It was sudden for both of you, you had no idea you were even reaching for him until your bodies intertwined. You felt distant from the situation, as if you couldn't control your actions. You just couldn't imagine the pain, the hurt he must have gone through. Just a few months alone in the prison had taken its toll on your psyche, but to be here as long as he had… No friends, no memories to look back on… No hope.
Hope was the only thing that kept you going. At first it was hope that you would one day see the outside world again. But as that dream grew distant, you looked forward to the smaller joys in life. You stayed positive only knowing that you would get to see him each day...
You gasped as he coiled his arms around your own frail form, returning the gesture with that tenderness that he so rarely showed to others. A single tear ran down your cheek and onto his shoulder. You slowly realised that the music room was only a temporary escape from hell. The prison had taken your entire life, his entire life. But in his arms you felt the comfort of hope.
He seemed to open up to you after that day. He was stoic in his conversations with Anasui and Emporio, but when he was alone with you, he confessed his true feelings, his observations and interpretations of prison life, his frustration with the situation. And you confided in him all your difficulties with the tormentors you still met everyday on your way to the ghost room. You chuckled when he offered to confront them, to attack them, to put an end to all your troubles, but you shook your head. Though you were flattered slightly by his strange compassion, you didn't wish his condition to worsen. He may get caught, his sentence become extended, his residence moved to solitary confinement.
It was several days later that you met Weather Report in the room as usual. You were reading a book in the lone chair when he barged in. Usually, he would sneak up on you unannounced, but today, he stomped, bewildered, into the room.His face was flushed red and he huffed as if he had run straight from his cell. You immediately stood.
“Weather, is something wrong?” You rushed over to his side, grasping his hand as if to console him. He opened his mouth to speak, but remained silent. You, however, were still concerned, though his composure was slowly returning to normal.
“I,” He took a shallow breath, “I just… It’s nothing, it’s silly.” He pulled his hand out of your grip, turning his back, but hesitated. You instinctively placed your hand on his shoulder.
“Weather, please, if there’s anything I can do to help…” Your voice cracked unexpectedly, and he slowly spinned on his toes. He didn't look into your eyes, yet didn't shy away from your tender touch.
“It was just a dream,” He muttered, “A nightmare, I–” he paused, but you encouraged him to continue. Even something as trivial as a bad dream was a cause for concern if it drove Weather into such a frenzy. You walked him over to the wall, sliding your back down it's surface until you were seated on the ground. There was no couch in the room, so you parted the seat on the floor next to you for him to join.
Catlike, he sprung to the ground, crossing his legs as he placed his hands in his lap. You urged him to tell you everything, and he did: he told you of his nightmare, how he dreamed he had met his mother, and the brother he never knew. He dreamt his mother had forsaken him, and his brother tried to murder him. Then, he paused. At this point, both your hands intertwined with his, sitting in his lap. You leaned your head on his shoulder as you soothed him by tracing your thumb across his fingers.
“Then you came.” You stiffened slightly, curious as to what he meant. “You saved me from the pain. You comforted me and held me…” His gaze was frozen on a point in the distance as you stole a look at his reddening face. “And that’s when I woke up. And my heart was pounding and I couldn’t breath. And I had to see you.”
His head fell limp as he stared at the both of your hands. You remained silent for a long while, just listening to the sound of his breath. You couldn’t quite pin down what you were feeling, it just pained you much to see Weather breaking like this. He constantly barred his emotions from the eyes of others. But one small provocation was enough to make him explode like this.
Finally, however, it seemed he had calmed. His hands no longer trembled, and his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Without so much as a thought to what you were doing, you placed a tender kiss on his cheek. Your pulse began to quicken at your own gesture, at how much you enjoyed touching your lips to his soft skin, how much you wanted to cradle him in your arms forever.
His head tilted to glance at you out of the corner of his eye, and you flushed for no apparent reason, your gaze wandering anywhere but those striking blue irises. Your focus locked on his lips for just one second. Then, gently, he began to lean into your form, and your eyes shot back up to his. You could see indecision and nervousness in his expression as he placed a hand to caress your cheek. But, strangely, there was also hope. Your toppled backwards just a bit, but his sturdy arm caught you before you could fall to the floor. You could feel your skin tingle as his face inched closer. Your eyes fluttered shut as he closed the gap.
His lips were almost cold to the touch. Yet they were still soft and supple as they tenderly kissed you. His thumb stroked your cheek, and you shivered, his other arm pulling your chest to his. He was delicate in his actions, as if he didn’t want to hurt you, or offend you in any way. But you still felt the passion behind his touch, his hunger for your lips against his.
However, slowly, he separated, though his forehead still rested on yours. It was only then that you noticed your beating heart, your heaving chest, your churning stomach. You gasped as his hand began to run through your hair.
“I’m sorry,” You were taken aback at those first words to come out of his mouth after he had kissed you. “I’ve never done something like this before, I’ve never felt this way–” His body grew rigid. “Well, not that I can remember.”
“W-Weather,” you began to stammer, placing your palms on his strong chest to support yourself. “You don’t need to apologize for anything. Just the fact that you’re here, that you can open up to me, that actually enjoy my company,” Your entire body shivered as you said it. “It’s more than I had ever hoped for.”
His eyes darted down once again to your lips, and he quickly looked up at you, as if asking permission. Your lids closed as you felt the tender touch of his lips once again. He was less inhibited this time, as his hand traversed up and down your side, grasping your hips, your waist. You grew courageous as well, escalating the kiss by trailing your fingers across his nape, pulling him closer, parting your lips only slightly as you pecked and sucked. He gently lowered you onto the ground, and you gasped as your back hit the rug.
He loomed over you just as he had that day when you first met, and he pulled his lips back so he could gaze at your form for just a second. But his eyes were kind rather than stern, his touch was gentle rather than harsh. He stared at you, lovingly, as leaned down to place a soft kiss on the skin of your neck. Your eyelids fluttered shut and your fingers squeezed his shoulders as he trailed his lips down your collarbone. He nibbled lightly and you let out a small gasp, but he continued, gently sucking the top of your breast. You squirmed slightly as a soft whisper escaped your lips.
“Weather,”
His lips abruptly left your chest as he stared back into your eyes. A small smile can to your lips, and you reached to stroke his cheek with your knuckles. He shuddered and his head leaned into the touch. You brought his lips once again to yours, but just for a moment, before uttering:
“I love you.”
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storylikethewind · 7 years
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Canada Day and Canadian Exceptionalism
 (It’s not quite Canada day here yet but i’m not sure if I’ll be on tomorrow and i’ve been having some comprehensibility issues so i want to type this while i can make some knd of sense). There’s also not actually a lot of in-depth information here. My brain is kind of fuzzed and all over the place.But i wanted to get it out just in case so this is just another reminder that Canada is a colonial settler state. It is stolen land, much of it still unceded land, meaning that the first nations peoples never officially signed over anything and it was taken by force, and by rights indigenous people should still control what goes on there. The Canadian (and previously British) government that colonized it is guilty of the genocide and continuing oppression of and violence against First Nations, Metis, and Inuit/Circumpolar peoples. Besides straight genocide, Canada and the RCMP have established residential schools and trends like the “”sixties scoop”” to attempt to strip indigenous peoples of their identity and erase languages (they were also hotbeds of abuse). Native communities experience unforgivably high rates of poverty, addiction, suicide, and environmental violence (particularly in water quality) due to systemic racism and federal and civilian indifference. Nothern communities are heavily exploited-Canada seems willing to violate the land with pipelines, fracking, and other destructive measures but thinks seals are a cute enough part of nature to warrant unnecessary protections, at the expense of Inuit lives. Today indigenous people are still fighting for reparations, the return and proper treatment of their land and sacred saces, and the reformation of the (shitshow) “Indian Act” (particularly in regards to injustices against native women and those of ‘uncertain parentage’), among many other issues. Violence against indigenous women is so epidemic and police/non-native indifference so deeply entrenched that even though they make up only 3% of the population, they make up 10% of female victims of homicide, and are at an extremely increased risk to be victims of other violent crimes and sexual violence. A national enquirey is still on going and many indigenous people and groups have been expressing frustration because the governemnt still isn’t listening to them on this issue (among MANY, obviously).
[Here is a google doc (still getting updated, from the looks of it) of indigenous organisations to donate to. I’m going to try to get more specific links in here later, but I need to organize all my bookmarks. Look at the Highway of Tears site for just a small example of the vast MMIW issue and the National Indigenous Women’s Resource Center for a wider view. Alethea Arnaquq-Baril’s film Angry Inuk is focused on the cultural prejudice and systemic violence inherent in anti-sealing, but also touches on a lot of the issues faced by Inuit in Canada (its also just a great movie and everyone should watch it)
Unsettling Canada 150 is a specific call to action and fantastic breakdown of why the 150th is nothing to celebrate, and is based on activist Arthur Manuel’s book Unsettling Canada: A National Wake Up Call. It includes written resources, videos, samples of the book, and specific organized actions on July 1st.]
Canada was also a slave-owning, slave-trading state and many places in Canada were built on the backs of slaves, and anti-Black violence is endemic in Canada. The famous McGill University was named after a slave-owner. Canada has seen the same systemic injustice and violence for Black people in its prison systems, its schools, its historical erasure. Desmond Cole talks about it in his documentary The Skin We’re In and Charmaine Nelson talks here about how erasure works in Canadain education under a veneer of “inclusivity” that dominates Canada’s international image. (An example: going to uni in Nova Scotia, I learned about Africville, a Black community in Halifax that the city tore down and forced everyone out of. It became a focal point of a powerful cultural/political movement among Black Canadians, especially on the east coast. But schools almost never mention it, and even for life-long, non-Black residents of the province, they had almost never heard of it until then). Canada also has entrenched Islamophobia and xenophobia. We, like the US, interred Japanese and Japanese-descended residents and passed laws against so-called “Barbaric Cultural Practices”. We continue to detain immigrants and refugees and have plenty of white supremacist groups and hate groups in our borders. (Read Sarah Adjekum’s article on “The Myth of Canadian Exceptionalism” for a good overview of a number of issues).
We’ve had eugenics and the forced sterilization of the mentally ill, and those with mental disabilities in particular still face stigmatization and difficulty getting treatment (I went off my meds living in Canada because even though I had healthcare, it didn’t cover my psychiatrist or pills, and it lead to several psychotic breaks. I know that’s anecdotal but the point is Univeral healthcare isn’t always). 
Despite Trudeau frequently using pride as a photo-op, LGBTQIA+ groups still suffer prejudice and violence, particularly where they intersect with race (violence against two-spirit people is often included in the MMIW discussions), and transgender Canadians still face a huge uphill battle and transphobia in the medical community. “Universal Health Care is the best” is not a good enough answer when so many important things are still out of reach.
This is all really basic stuff but I think thats the problem--lots of Canadians still dont know it or, more likely, don’t want to think about it when they could be feeling smug and superior to the US. American exceptionalism is ridiculous because its so unwarranted, but I think Canadian exceptionalism is even more dangerous because the country has such good PR, so no one outside thinks there’s a problem. And inside, lots of Canadians (especially white, and straight, upper-class, English-speaking, neurotypical/non-disabled etc.) don’t want to admit it. The idea that Canada is a good country for everyone is insidious and wrong and claiming it is further endangers and erases all the people who suffer. Being ‘better than America’ in terms of colonialism and violence is such a low bar its near meaningless. We need to be much better, period, and we need to listen to all the people calling for justice instead of ignoring them because they don’t fit Canada’s friendly, peaceful branding.
Sorry this isn’t very well organized let me know if the links dont work or if something should be added/removed
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strayraccoon · 7 years
Text
A Taste of Venderbight
A continuation of my crossover between Kekkai Sensen and Fallen London / Sunless Sea. [Link] Turned out bigger than I expected. Again, apologize in advance for mobile users
Everything in the Neath is absurd. You prepared yourself the moment you were taken into the Neath as London sunk, whatever the subterranean world would throw at you, you were determined to be relentless. Yet the absurd scene before you had thrown you off your feet. Figuratively and literally.
Darcy Pearce's lips met Klaus', for a brief seconds which felt like an eternity to you. Your literary rival seemed to be savoring Klaus' lips to the fullest before they parted. Klaus became extremely tense afterwards, the back of his neck and ears turned beet crimson. Darcy Pearce looked at you triumphantly, lifting his chin ever upwards, exhibiting his dominance.
'You thought you're going to kiss him first. But alas, it was me, Darcy' 
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Your descend into Venderbight madness started a year after Darcy Pearce's attempt to pin you as one of revolutionary party supported, ending your literary career prematurely. Fortunately, an unlikely savior whisked you away minutes before the constables could get a hold of you. With aid from a vigilante group, Libra, you managed to clear your name, send your rival to exile, and was invited into the Shuttered Palace as strawberry on top. It didn't come at a price, obviously, but one you're willing to pay.
As one of new member of Libra, you're tasked in observing individuals and social circles within the Shuttered Palace, therefore adding another layer of complexity on your daily activities. There were other observers like you posted throughout the city. Compiled reports on odd activities and slight rumors might save someone in need. Similar issue occurred to your case as well. One of Libra members overheard Pearce's drunken boast and reported it to the inner circle. Hence sparking the incident.
For a year, you have been spending most of your time in the Shuttered Palace, reciting your poem and novels. Socializing with the higher echelon of society. Other than that, you would be in Libra's headquarters, bringing some snacks you smuggled from the palace's kitchen. Most of your time in the headquarters would be compiling reports and chatting with the lunch trio and Chain, sharing the day's loot (snacks and takeaways). On occasion, you would be joining the actions. Hard shooting lessons from K.K often saved you from a pinch. Though, you would be mostly running along with Leo in not-a-fighter club or getting thrown around by other members with better affinity at fighting. Libra's most feared enemy would be the vampires, elder beings who maintain their immortality by drinking blood. This is a good reason for Libra to provision their members with silver equipment. As for you, silver bullets and cross as a charm against blood-suckers.
On brief chances, you would be sitting in Klaus' greenhouse, drinking tea with him and discussing literary work. He's definitely educated in literature field and a good critic. Klaus, Steven, and K.K gave you a lot of inputs on your works before they are submitted to your editor. The Libra's executive director would sometime request that you would tone down the 'Master of Crime' character in your novels, knowing he's based on Klaus himself. To that request you would simply grin mischievously. Long story short, brief chances became an unspoken arrangement and you always looked forward to each 'Tea Party'.
On one day, Steven and Klaus mentioned a trip to Venderbight, one of the bigger Tomb Colonies due north of Fallen London. Death does not come naturally in the Neath. Those who died would remain as rotting corpses. These unfortunate souls would spend the rest of their remaining time, as much as their flesh allowed, in the tomb colonies. Far away enough from the living beings, preventing them from unnerving the Londoners. It is a fate shared by everyone living in the Neath.
'To Venderbight it is, we have to make the trip' Steven said as he set down a filer on Klaus' desk. His eyes were blood-shot red and stubbles decorated his chin, Steven had been overworked yet once again. 'I've made arrangement for the other items, but only this one require further inquiries'
The owner of the desk ceased playing chess-like game called Prosfair and read Steven's file. Klaus considered for a moment, scratching his chin while reading the file. 'I suppose so, we can't afford to turn this opportunity sour. Gilbert, could you make the arrangement?'
'Certainly, Young Master' Gilbert nodded gracefully, ever ready at his position behind Klaus. The butler didn't exhibit his utmost attention in his expression, yet he noticed your excitement. 'Who else will be going? I see our poeta is interested as well, ohohoho'
'May I?' you asked, but it was clear to the others that you were excited at the prospect.
Klaus covered his mouth elegantly in order to hide an amused smile, yet he was beaming 'I don't see any reason to prohibit you from it. I remember you need a struck of inspiration for your upcoming work'
'I did mention something like that' you answered and tried to recall whether you did mention suffering from a writer's block during one of your tea parties. You didn't catch Steven and Gilbert grinning.
'Oho~' . 'Heehe..'
'This is going to very much exciting! I have never left London before. After it's sunk, mind' you admitted honestly. 'To be fair though, I could not even remember London before it's covered in dark smokes and low hanging grey clouds'
'You're pretty giddy for going to place you were about to be exiled at' Steven commented non-chalantly, sipping his black coffee as he returned to his seat.
'No need to remind me of that'
Despite having almost exiled into the tomb colony yourself, you were intrigued in visiting Venderbight. You thought it would be a good experience and a chance to seek inspiration outside the humdrum of the Fifth City. A simple escapade away from London's stuffy air filled with smoke, sewage odor, and cheap musk. Away from prying eyes and gossiping noblemen in the Shuttered Palace.
You mused at the thought of Venderbight, your mind racing with the possibilities of stories unfolding within. A battle between a protagonist and bitter rival, perhaps? Chasing the villain through maze-like alleyways, ending it with a duel where only one escapes. The villain received unnatural power from an unknown patron, per chance? You were giddy with the possibility.
Ships of all kind and origin docks in Wolfstack Harbor, coming from all direction in Unterzee. The Docks itself were bustling with activity, with various produce/merchandise shipped in and out. Harbormaster and constables busy inspecting the cargo, ensuring there were no contrabands brought into Fallen London. Should one was caught carrying contrabands, there will be huge fine involved and possibly free lodging in prison. There were sailors both on and off duty traipsing about the harbor. There were also 'land lubbers' like you, who seek passage to other islands in the other side of Unterzee, far beyond home waters of London.
Strange wonders were in the far reaches of Unterzee. Iron Republic, elusive Elder Continent due south, an artificial sun callen Dawn Machine, an undergound Volcano, a palace made of ice due north, Seas of Coral, the Khanate, Fathomking's Hold where drowned dead reside, and so many other wondrous locales you wish to visit. For the time being, Venderbight beckons.
You walked along the docks, carrying a small suitcase for the travel, passing a few bars where fishermen and sailors alike enjoying their pints of beer during shore leave. The atmosphere were rowdy but honest, unlike masked companies in the Shuttered Palace. From within each tavern and bars, sea shanties could be heard. It gave off an impression that the sailors brought the Unterzee with them onto the land. Alas, you couldn't stay and listen for too long. You carried on until you reached a fish market.
Near the fish market you could see stalls selling seafood dishes. Most of them were using Unterzee fish instead, but they were delectable still. There were London staples such as fish and chip or fish pie. More exotic establishment offered sliced raw fish or cured fish. On good days, there would be fresh sea urchin on sale. Easterner fish market would provide a variety of fresh catch and cured products for specific clientele.
For a London-bred such as you, fish and chip or pie would be a more reasonable choice compared to those heavy on spice. Observing both stall owners preparing their dishes, you were mulling over which you would buy. Fish pie with gravy and mashed potato or fried fish and chip. Skewered grilled fish. Fresh clam with simple lemon and parsley dressing. Those were hard contender to choose from. In the end you chose fish and chips because the owner provided a practical paper cone made of old Gazette papers for travelers on the go.
'Sauce or vinegar?' he asked, pointing at two bottles which obviously contained the forementioned sauce and vinegar. He seemed to be anticipating your answer, so did the pie stall owner behind him.
'Vinegar' you answered, thinking you'll need something acid and fresh for fried food.
'Good choice there, always trust anyone who prefers vinegar' the stall owner grinned as he liberally poured vinegar over your portion of fish and chips.
'Please' the fish pie stall owner beside him scoffed 'Nothing beats fish and thick sauce'
'That's why you're stuck selling pie and I sell chips, damn bastard' replied the fish and chips stall owner 'Here you go, extra chips on the house for your friend'
'Eh, sure thanks. Friend?' You received the chips gratefully. The moment you turned your back, you found Klaus standing behind you. He was wearing a travel coat over his usual vest and suit. A blue shawl was left hung on his coat instead of tied around his neck, which made him appeared akin to Italian mafia don you saw in still movies. None of the stall owners were taken aback with Klaus appearance as they were used to shady characters. Gilbert was beside him, carrying a small trunk. Then you realized the stall owner was referring to them. 'Oh'
'Welcome, welcome. Young Master! Try a bit of my fish and chip, you'll get hooked in no time!'
'Don't listen to this bollocks, grab me pie instead. Made with quality dough and fresh eel directly from local fish market'
'Interesting' Klaus muttered after taking and tasting one of your piece of chip.
'Have you never had this before?'
'Unfortunately, no. Madam was quite strict with Young Master's upbringing. ' It was Gilbert who answered your question as Klaus was busy eating your fish and chip eagerly. Humming cheerfully as he did so. When you looked at your paper cone, there was nothing left.
'Eh...’ 
'Young Master...'
'M-my apologies, I'll buy you a fresh portion' Klaus stammered, realizing he had practically eaten your meal.
'Glad you like it, Young Master! Vinegar or sauce?' the stall owner grinned, clearly amused by the scene unfolding before him. He had prepared another batch for freshly fried fish and potatoes ready on his drying tray. To emphasize his question, he pointed towards his sauce bottles with vinegar and sauce within.
Klaus pondered for a second then said cheerfully, 'Let's have both, then we can share and compare. Also, one portion of fish pie please. Gilbert, I remember you talked about eating fish pie in the docks. So this one here is for you'
'Indeed I did, so you remembered it, Young Master' Gilbert said cheerfully.
'There's people like this too, huh?' the fish and chip stall owner commented as he prepared both portion as requested. 
The pie stall owner simply shrugged 'Nothing beats fresh fish, eh!'
'Yep, yep' replied the chips stall owner 'Can you even imagine curing fish? Hear tell people up in Norway eats rotten sharks!'
'Eh, remember that one fish cook in Uptown? He used to cook strangest of catch. From deep in Unterzee. I'd say our Surface brothers are far better compared to him'
Klaus listened to the stall owners chattering about an odd duck of a fish cook intently, at least until they handed him his orders. Klaus and you shared portions of fish and chips with vinegar and sauce, while Gilbert keeps his pie until he returned to Libra headquarters.
The three of you reached the dock where the sea vessel which would take you to Venderbight was docked. Some ship hands were busy working on the ship's cargo.  Another were taking notes of the ship's cargo and inventory. You recognized some crates of wines and mushroom for export purposes. There were separate cargo space reserved for ship supplies, whether spare parts or crew and guest meal. Then you noticed a stack of wooden coffin rattling some distance away from the other cargo. You knew right away those coffins contained tomb-colonists.
'Scary bunch, 'eh? Pay 'em no mind. They'll rot in the cargo hold' one of the sailors addressed you as he noticed your uneasy gaze towards the coffins containing tomb-colonists. He then pointed at a well-dressed man nearby. He was talking with Steven and K.K, who had arrived at the Docks earlier 'Captain's over there'
Steven noticed the three of you approaching and waved his hand. 'Took you long enough...anything left for me?' he said in pleasant tone, as he peeked into paper cones both you and Klaus held. He took one from the batch with thick sauce.
'Bah, sauce lover' commented the Captain. He turned towards the newcomers afterwards 'Welcome to my ship, the Odyssey. You'll have a fine trip to Venderbight, no problem. We'll just have a brief stop at Hunter's Keep then straight to Tomb Colony. Hopefully there would be no trouble aside from clouds of sea bats. We'll have no encounter with Sea Crabs enroute to Venderbight. Unless you're asking for a detour to Stone Sphynx or something'
'I'll leave the route planning to your discretion, good Captain' Klaus said as he bowed slightly, to which the Captain returned politely. In turn he addressed K.K 'How's your children, K.K. Will they be fine with you away from home for some time?'
'No need to worry, my husband is taking care of them' K.K answered, then glared at Steven 'It'd be better if I didn't become a pinch hitter, though'
Steven merely laughed weakly.
'I thought you were coming' you exclaimed in surprise.
'Unfortunately, I'd have to hold on. There's an incident in Veilgarden again, there's a lot of feather ruffled this time around' Steven said as he scratched his head. 'That's for me to take care of, you three have fun in tomb colony'
Klaus nodded excitedly, K.K sighed, and you replied excitedly. The Captain then called foe the threw of you to embark on the ship. Steven stayed with your group until the three of you are settled in respective rooms and leave minutes just before the ship departs from dock. He had to run back into city proper the moment he saw pillar of fire coming from the general direction of the city, with Gilbert behind him.
The Odyssey embarked out of Wolfstack Docks after thorough custom inspection and inventory checks. It's steam whistle resounded throughout the docks, signaling a departing ship into the darkness of Unterzee, far beyond home waters. Slowly but surely, the vision of home would be drowned beneath dark horizon. You looked at Fallen London from a distance. The gigantic city would be engulfed by darkness were not for its skyline and a certain pillar of fire somewhere within the cityscape.
 As It was the first time ever you sailed from Fallen London, constantly swaying ship was only the first of your woes. It didn't take long for continuously swaying ship and waves to induce seasickness into you. With your stomach churning and head spinning, you spend most of the time sleeping inside your cabin, utterly defeated. Even so, you found it difficult to sleep as the ship constantly sway due to unterzee waves.
Klaus and K.K took turns in checking your condition. It was mostly the nervous Libra leader, bringing mineral water and light meal.  In general he tried to make you feel  more comfortable. You swore you could hear K.K giggling outside your cabin.
The only times you were able to walk free on the decks was the moment The Odyssey docks in Hunter's Keep. An isolated island not far from the Fifth City, just at the border of home waters. A solitary mansion erected on the island. The captain was making supply drops for three noble sisters who lived in the island. All the while you and your company waits inside the ship as the captain warned you against taking a stroll around the island. It was for a reason he would not divulge but a good one nevertheless.
'What sort of affair are you having in Venderbight? Not many deliberately visit the tomb colony while they're…alive' you said to Klaus on one moment you're free of seasickness and the confines of your constantly swaying cabin. You recalled tales from Venderbight. Colonies of dead men wrapped in bandages. Only the bandages were not to cover wounds but rather tying rotting flesh together. Sea captain would bring tomb-colonist coffins whenever they are passing by Venderbight. Simple delivery made for good echoes, which in turn would be used for either a night in Venderbight bar or buying supplies.
Klaus, who leaned his arms on the deck's railings, hair constantly swaying under cold sea winds, answered, 'We're hosting a meeting with a dignitary coming from the Surface. For all purposes and intentions, we need to leave a good impression. Therefore we need to recruit a good chef. I heard from some of our friends in the Palace, there's a talented one working in Venderbight. He used to have a restaurant near palace district'
You knew exactly who he was talking about, as one of palace dignitaries couldn't stop raising praises, 'The Bandaged Poissonier in the Vengeance of Jonah, I recall. Supposedly prepare divine seafood dishes. Combining seven flavors while maintaining its balance? How is that supposed to happen?'
'It happens when you've cooked for prominent figures in the Neath. Before his journey to Tomb Colony, this poissonier used to cook for the Khan and even the Empress herself' K.K explained as he leafed through a dossier Steven left behind in a hurry. 'Hmmhmm, quite a reputation he built. I can't wait to sample his dishes~ I wish I could bring some for my hubby~'
'That is something to look forward to' Klaus said to you, encouraging you to be patient on the journey to Venderbight.
You could feel the blood rush to the back of your neck, and the edges of your ears felt like burning. You addressed K.K then, 'You look pretty fine, K.K. Do you sail a lot?'
K.K grinned, knowing full well your attempt at misdirection. 'I traveled for some time, yes. That's before I met my husband. One tend to settle down after establishing a family after all. What do you think, Klaucchie? Do you think you will settle down in the Fifth City?'
Klaus inclined his head, pondering for a moment then answered. 'Most likely, this is where our work is needed. Are you implying we should broaden our efforts to Khanate and Iron Republic as well? I must admit there's little information we have gained from each...'
''No,no, Klaucchie. That's not what I meant. Do you think you'll be able to establish a family here in the Neath is what I'm asking' K.K sighed in disbelief how gullible and serious the Libra leader is.
''Uh? Oh...um" Klaus uttered in exasperation after realizing K.K's real question. He scratched the back of his neck. 'I...suppose so"
''Hmmhmm, got a candidate in mind?" K.K inquired further, both in tease and pure curiosity.
You thought this has gone into a dangerous region, so you quickly attempted to divert the topic ,'So...so! Did you know that Norway men eats rotten shark and shark blood pudding?!'
''Wh-why yes! I had heard that sharks in Norway waters are extremely venomous and have tougher skin. So the locals have to cure them for at least a month before consuming the meat. Hear tell the shark meat is extremely pungent" Klaus chimed in, panicking.
''Oh, you two" K.K muttered in disappointment, but secretly was happy with the development.
Venderbight, the tomb colony where your rival was exiled into, was as dire as you heard in stories provided by sailors and Singing Mandrake guests. The city was dark yet unnervingly functioning. There was unnerving silence hung about the city, as well as permeating odor of preservatives. A dark humongous pillar stood tall in the middle of the city. On it's base were a few residence building and its top couldn't be viewed as it was far above visible skyline of Venderbight.
On the docks were normal human mingling with bandaged men. As it was in Wolfstack Docks, the bandaged men acted as custom officers and harbormaster or workers. They  were checking the shipments, especially so for wooden coffins containing tomb colonists. Indeed the shambling 'corpses' makes you unnerved most of the time, but the atmosphere was intriguing enough to call you for a brief walk throughout the city.
Both K.K and Klaus were not affected with at all. The ship crew, on the other hand, preferred to stay on board instead of taking the chance getting a leave on shore. There were a couple of bars down in the docks, but most men wouldn't risk taking a shore leave due to their fear of tomb colonists.
The three of you navigated the city, seeking for a particular restaurant owned by this well-known poissonier, the Vengeance of Jonah. An auspicious name for a store, but it's quite catching as a lot of Londoners speaks praises of the restaurant. With its sublime seafood cuisine in general, particularly the highly praised chef himself. The Fifth City lost a prominent figure once the poisonnier
Following directions provided by bandaged locals and shopkeepers, the three of you traversed winding alleyways. Fortunately there were a few boards directing tourists and locals alike to Vengeance of Jonah. Unfortunately for you, your literary rival was waiting for you in the middle of an alleyway as if he had known of your arrival beforehand. You knew there was a risk of encountering Darcy Pearce in the tomb colony, but assured yourself the chance was low it's practically impossible.
You cursed yourself internally for not being careful enough. Before any words were traded between the two of you, Darcy Pearce approached Klaus and did the unexpected. Both of you and K.K were stunned with Darcy's action. After he finished gloating, K.K instantly drew her handgun.
'Ah, ah, ah. Is this what you guys do to polite company? I was merely greeting him. You're going to be the one drawing the first shot' Darcy claimed, his tone indicated him being on the higher ground. He lifted both of his arms in mockery before continuing, 'I did no damage to you three'
K.K was having none of it, therefore she screamed in anger 'You damaged Klaucchie innocence, damn it!' as he pulled her handgun's trigger
Darcy Pearce remained calm, letting the bullet came to him, even on the last second he made no effort to evade the pullet. In fact, the bullet went through him effortlessly, as if he was mere fog. Klaus and K.K's eyes widened witnessing the sight, knowing what entails. Darcy Pearce was no mere mortal, he had turned into vampirism. Their on the spot conjecture was supported as Darcy smiled, revealing sharp upper fangs.  
'Who did this to you?' Klaus asked after wiping his lips with the back of his hands. His gaze which normally gentle turned determined, to the point where even the hardiest of soul would relent. By every Gods in the Neath, when he gets serious, it became intense.
Darcy trembled for a bit before returning to his smug behavior, 'A benefactor, I must say. Someone who would like to appreciate my art for eternity'
'You got a name, or do they think you're too insignificant to be a real acquaintance?' storm rages inside you, which you tried hard to quell but couldn't help but unleashing it in your sentences. Your stomach churned and it was not only from seasickness that ailed you these couple of days.
Your inquire seemed to make a real dent on Darcy Pearce's pride, as your question hits the mark.  He hissed, mixing in venomous words as best as he could, 'What of it? What matters is that I've got more than enough power to defeat you, take my rightful place in the Shuttered Palace. It's too good for shitty novelist such as you'
'Standard villain speech. 0/10' you commented.
Your words managed to taunt Darcy Pearce into acting. He disappeared in one second, and another appeared right in front of you, his visage filled with pure jealousy and hatred. You pulled out your gun, trying your best to remember K.K's teaching. Klaus, knowing that Darcy is directly attacking you, quickly approached your position trying to defend you. K.K on the other hand, went on the offensive. Bullets fired, coagulated blood shield appearing near you. Darcy's frustrated scream. Everything happened at once.
'Tch. I see your over the top characters wasn't all a figment of your imagination' Darcy spat. He didn't disappear quickly enough to avoid bullet hail.
'Reality is stranger than fiction' K.K grinned, her handguns ever focused on Pearce.
'This isn't exactly the right time for literature review' Klaus interjected, but his focus remained fixed upon the rogue poet. He observed that Darcy's wound isn't healing as fast as he thought. Darcy's has not been turned long for him to have better control on his new nature.
Darcy touched his bullet wound, he wasn't pleased with the searing pain and lodged bullet inside his flesh. He quickly retreated into the darkness of Venderbight alleyway. For reasons unknown to you, you dashed from where you stood, chasing after the disappearing figure. You could barely heard Klaus calling your name as blood rushed into your head. You could feel yourself boiling in anger. Not now, not now, not ever.
You followed a trail of blood deep into old Venderbight district, the residences and buildings around you gradually became older and decrepit. To the point where walls had shattered and fallen, only a few pillars and house frame remained standing. The moment you saw Darcy's figure at the edge of your sight, you shot. The gunshot noise echoed unnervingly. Darcy continued to retreat and the dance went on. Neither of you relent in an endless carousel dance.
At one point you arrived at ruins of an amphitheater. You could see the architecture in its glorious days. But at that moment, there were only remains of a golden age and emptiness. There were thin mist around you.
Darcy appeared before you, to which you automatically shoot your gun. But at that one point where you needed the most, the gun ran out of bullets. In your rage, you forgot to reload your hard earned Carrow's Steel gun. Seeing the realization in your face, Darcy grinned, two unnaturally sharp upper fangs decorated his white teeth. He slammed you onto the floor of the amphitheater. In a quick succession he planted his booted leg onto your chest. There was not enough force to break anything, yet it was enough to push the air out of your chest.
'Lucky bastard'
He kicks
'If it weren't for you…'
He kicks
'…my…dience…'
He kicks
'MINE!...ALL… …THEM!'
You covered your face and turned into a fetal position to protect vital areas as Darcy Pearce kicked you. Without anyone backing you up, you were literally a punching bag against newly birthed vampire. As weak as he is, Darcy Pearce was stronger than a normal human. When he was satisfied kicking you, he straddled you and reached for your neck. He was about to crush your neck when his hand started burning. You weakly reached for your neck and found silver chain and cross.
'AAAAAARGH' Darcy Pearce screamed in pain as chain and cross shaped wound didn't cease to burn his flesh.
At that moment, a gunshot resounded throughout the ruined amphitheater. A silver bullet drove through Darcy's right arm. He screamed in pain. Before he could react, a numerous amount of cross-shaped spears rained down on him. Klaus crouched beside you, checking your condition. You could feel the temperature around him raised to a dangerous degree. A glint in the darkness was the only thing you need to tell you where K.K was.
Darcy Peace didn't die that easily, he appeared from under cross-shaped spears. His wounds slowly regenerated. He addressed you then, 'I'll be making waves, big enough to engulf you all in it. For now, I'll just take this small victory' to which afterwards he deliberately licked his lips in the most seductive manner he could muster.
K.K once again shot at his direction. Klaus created a spear using his blood technique. But at the time the bullets and spear about to connect with Pearce, he had turned into fog, leaving the dangerous substances planted into nearby alleyway walls.  You could hear his laughter echoing till it disappears completely. 
In the end the thought of your rival coming back with worse force behind him made your malady even worse. You returned to the ship and confined yourself inside the cabin, not before the ship's doctor tend to your injuries and preached on about how one should take care of their own welfare and health. Especially after seeing what happened to unnatural deaths in the Neath. You felt disappointed for not being able to sample the Vengeance of Jonah's finest cuisine, but you would sense nothing even if you drag yourself to the restaurant. With less swaying on the boat you managed to catch a bit of sleep. Though your dreams were not peaceful.
You woke up to the ship's steam engine noise, sound signals signifying that the ship is embarking from Venderbight docks. You forced yourself to drink some water and exited your room. Your wounds aches still. When you reached the deck, Venderbight had been some distance away. What was in lesser distance was Klaus, who once again leaned his arm on the railings.
'Hey'
'Good evening'
Klaus' greeting made you automatically checked your pocket watch. It's 22.00 in the evening. They didn't need to embark so late at night, but the crew were more than happy to put a distance from Venderbight. You sighed, the trip you looked forward to became a complete fiasco thanks to your unrelenting rival.
'How's your…wound?' Klaus asked, hesitating.
'It's still aching. Here I thought writers could only lift pens' you answered, trying to lightened the mood.
'Is that so? Good to know' Klaus replied. You caught a short chuckle between breaths. Though there's still an awkward atmosphere between the two of you.
'How's the tasting?' you asked, trying to divert your mind from Darcy's unfortunate greeting.
'There were no words best to describe it' Klaus beamed in glee, recalling the dishes he had in Vengeance of Jonah. 'They weren't jesting in regards of the chef. The poissonier will be hired for the meeting next month. His prices and kitchen requirements are steep, nevertheless it's manageable and definitely worth the investment'
'That does sound wonderful' you commented, trying to hid your disappointment.
'He doesn't do takeaways, unfortunately' Klaus said in disappointed voice, then continued 'But you'll definitely have some of his cooking on the meeting. Please look forward to it'
'Oh right, that I will' Klaus reassurance perked you up.
You couldn’t help but smile whenever Klaus was around. You were too busy imagining kinds of dishes the Poissonier would prepare for the meeting to realize that Klaus was approaching you. He slipped an index finger under your chin and slightly lifted your face. Then he brushed his lips against yours ever so gently. Taking great care that his protruding fangs did not pierce your skin. It was short, but you could sense a hit of spiciness. Heat of chilies in the background. He left at the right moment, whether Klaus realized it or not, which left you wanting for more. You could hear him muttering under his breath shyly, '…all I can do for now'.
There was an uneasy silence between the two of you, which lasted for a short time. Mostly thanks to K.K appearing at the right time, 'Oh my God, Klaucchie, that was so BOLD'
'W-wait, this is not--' 'No, no! Not what you think!'
Steven merely laughed after he finished reading the reports, in addition to K.K's testimony to chain of events. Not the rest of Libra members. Whenever either you or Klaus present, they would deliberately use words such as taste, aroma, and other culinary related vocabulary. Both of you and Klaus would be beet red whenever the shenanigans occurred, and you swore you could see some white mist exuded from the Libra's leader himself. You were seriously considering to throw a thick dictionary at the rest of your colleague in Libra, especially on Zapp who continuously harassing you, as proxy for the more pleasant souls like Chain and Leo. After all, hitting Chain would be downright impossible and improper.
'Are you writing this into a novel?' Steven asked as he grinned, once again sipping his coffee from his favorite mug. He looked more disheveled compared to he was before you left for Venderbight.
'Probably not, romance is prohibited. I think…' you said, unsure, while re-reading your report on encounter with your former rival turned mortal enemy in Venderbight '…this counts as one, yes?A drama of sorts in the Shuttered Palace would be good. The nobles don't watch romances, you see. They like it but never admit it openly. You can't arrest something that does not exist'
'I noticed'
'Now stop grinning before I make you cast Mister Darcy. You know what that entails' you hissed.
To which Steven merely raised his hands in defeat gesture, but a smug smile still remained on his face. His smile grew into an annoying grin as he saw Klaus approaching, 'Ah, here's the Hatter. Have fun, you two'
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crystalelemental · 7 years
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Atelier Sophie Opinions
Atelier Sophie is the most laid-back Atelier game I know, and will probably remain as such since Firis apparently brings back a time mechanic.  Sophie is, I feel, a solidly average game.  I have few complaints, but there are also no elements that stand out as particularly exceptional compared to other entries.  It’s just all-around good.  And you know what that means?  I finally have a baseline to work as a comparison between all other games in the series!
CHARACTERS Sophie - Sophie is your happy-go-lucky alchemist, who is generally cheerful and wants to do her best.  She earns a lot of points for being completely willing to bypass alchemy training in favor of just getting the cauldron of knowledge, and has some excellent reactions to character jokes, with my favorite being her just leaving when Tess makes any sort of suggestive joke.  She's a fun one.
Monika - She's alright.  Not the most interesting in the bunch, but decent enough.   She's very religious and is a great singer, and spends a lot of time with the church helping out with the kids.
Oskar - Okay, I hate this guy, and I don't know why.  His character isn't BAD, he's just kind of a bumble-headed nitwit.  He runs around ignoring his job and talks to plants a lot, with this mentality of "plants are better than people!"  It just rubs me the wrong way, like those people who insist pets are better than people. They're not, and they'd be just as shitty as other people if they could talk and weren't reliant on you for survival.
Julio - A knight of the church who is tagging along with Sophie, hoping to find alchemy to help some guy who was turning into a monster.  He's a dedicated knight whose creed tells him to focus on helping the people in front of him, heedless of consequences.  Which...alright.  I can appreciate that. Again, not the most interesting in the bunch, though.
Harol - Similar to Oskar, I really don't like this guy.  I think it's the same issue, where he just ignores his job for the longest time.  Whereas Oskar is just an idiot who runs off to do his own thing all the time, Harol actively avoids it for fear of not living up to his father.  He's at least a little more understandable, and his story arc isn't bad at all, I just don't like him.
Corneria - An oddball.  She's from a different land, but doesn't know her father or apparently where she's from.  She's on a mission to find out, though, and uses her duplication alchemy to hopefully spread the word until either her father comes to find her, or she hears of him.  Duplication alchemy allows her to make multiple copies of items, which she sells back to you.  She's basically your wholesale shop.  The oddity is she reportedly shrinks when using this power?  I dunno, it's weird.
Leon - Objectively best girl.  Leon shows up and just kinda settles into the town to make clothes.  She's tough, confident, and is generally just a pleasant character to have around.  I also would like to offer massive credit to her character for not once pulling an uncomfortable fanservice scene like almost any other character in her role would do.
Fritz - This guy I like.  He's a retired mercenary who loves puppets, and creates dolls routinely to put on excellent shows.  We don't learn a lot about him, aside from he's a bit eccentric, but that's all I really needed.  I appreciate the guy a lot.
Plachta - I have odd feelings about Plachta.  On the one hand, she has the most history and is one of the most significant characters in the game.  On the other, a lot that is shrouded in mystery until the end of the game.  She made the Cauldron of Knowledge, sealed it away, and helps you get to it, only to remember she sealed it away so her former friend/current enemy can't revive with it and cause problems with their dangerous alchemy.  She's given a doll's body, and I feel like that's appropriate, because she's fairly flat-affect, but willing to go to extremes to prevent catastrophe.  She's outright willing to kill her friend, and did so once before, just to stop them from causing problems with a bad form of alchemy.  All of this should line up perfectly to make a character I really appreciate, but for some reason she's just okay.  I really don't know why.  More of her personal history may have helped, but...right now I'm just not that invested.
Tess - Tess works at the Cafe, and constantly has on a bunny outfit.  I...am not sure why, but...sure.  She's very plucky and energetic, and a goof among goofs.  She winds up being alright as a character, which I wouldn't have expected at first.
Pamela - The ghost girl from the Arland games returns, only this time she's a nun for some reason.  She's still dead and definitely a ghost, but is here, somehow.  There's a point where they mention a teddy bear, so it almost makes me feel like this is prior to the Arland games?  Weird.
Logy - Oh, and Logy's here.  But not the Logy we know.  He looks the same, but is a blacksmith, not an alchemist.  He seems to have little to no knowledge of alchemy at all, and...quite honestly, it's very confusing.  I have no idea what's going on with this.  Is the implication that this is post-Dusk trilogy and this is like a descendant or something?  If this is trying to tie the last two trilogies together, it's doing so in the most confounding way possible.
Horst - Bartender man.  I have nothing of value to say about him.  He sure is there.
Marguerite - I probably spelled her name wrong.  I’m not fixing it.  She’s Oskar’s mom.  She earns points solely for calling Oskar out on his bullshit of leaving his job to go talk to plants.  Nothing else stood out about her.
Luard - Some guy really into Ablution Alchemy.  It's this super dangerous form of alchemy that takes from nature and produces very little, but what it produces can be anything.  See, your form of alchemy takes few resources, but can only produce certain things with the combinations you use.  You're limited in that sense.  Ablution Alchemy can take any resources and produce anything it wants, but it needs a lot more stuff to make it work.  Luard is really into this, because you can get anything you want.  Luard's more focused on the present and what's good for the here and now, while disregarding future problems.  He'd be really interesting if there was a sufficient justification for his actions beyond just really wanting to be able to pull this off.  There's something about a village that experienced famine, and was solved with Sophie's brand of alchemy back in the day, but it doesn't really inform his motivations in any way.  He's just a bad guy for the sake of having a bad guy, I feel.  Also, it kind of irks me how they introduce this form of alchemy, which would be an excellent way to explain how the Dusk started, after Shallie messed up their ending.
STORY The story is simple.  Sophie is an alchemist working in the town of Kirchen Bell. Her grandmother, who was also an alchemist, recently passed away, and Sophie inherited the atelier, as well as a book that begins to talk and float when she writes a recipe into it.  The book is Plachta, an alchemist from the distant past, whose memories have been lost.  Your goal is to bring back Plachta's memories, at first to find the Cauldron of Knowledge, which will allow any alchemy to be performed at any skill level, and later just to help Plachta out.  As her memories return you continue to progress toward attaining the cauldron, and learn more about Plachta, and why she was sealed in a book, and why her memories have gone missing.  It's not too bad, and there's an attempt at a twist in terms of introducing the antagonist, but it was pretty easy to see through so nothing special.  The game’s strengths are entirely in being an easy-going slice-of-life style story, and I can appreciate that.
SETTING I feel like this is in an odd place, in that the setting suggests that alchemy can be used for negative purposes which created the Scar of the Land.  We also get the specific name from Ablution Alchemy, which is the alchemy that takes up considerable natural resources to produce little in response, but you get anything you want.  It's an interesting idea that can showcase how a disaster arrived, and it's pretty easy to see how people might gravitate toward that form of alchemy over something more limited but eco-friendly.  The damage it can cause is established and present within the world, but at the same time, we don't get the same grand feeling as in Ayesha or Escha and Logy.  There's an issue, but it's still in a phase of "people shouldn't do this and as long as they don't things are fine."  We're not at a level where things are just too late and we're trying to pick up the pieces.  So while the location is fine with some interesting elements, it feels a bit less unique due to being an easily remedied problem instead of something that should be nigh-impossible to fix.
ALCHEMY SYSTEM This is a big change.  When performing alchemy, you select your materials, and then place them on a grid within the cauldron.  Within the cauldron, there are locations with differently colored dots that, when you place a material on them, adds a significant amount of bonus to the trait meter that item occupies.  The color of the dot doesn't matter so much as the color of the material.  For instance, if you have three effect bars, and you choose a red, blue, and green material to occupy each, you're going to have a rough time getting to maximum trait effect for all three.   However, if all three materials were red, it would be much easier.   Why?  Because there's a counter at the top of the screen that tells you what percentage of the cauldron is occupied by which element type.  If you have scatter, the element levels are going to be low, and only the highest is applied.  So if you had the red percentage at 20%, green at 15%, and blue at 10%, only red would be applied; the other two would gain no bonus at all. However, if all three were red, you might have a red percentage at 65%, and then each bar gains an extra 65% of what they had.  It's kind of complicated, but again, in that sense where it's easy to learn but hard to perfect.  I love it.
There's also a difference in the type of cauldron used.  For instance, depending on how you develop your cauldron, you can flip materials horizontally or vertically or rotate them, and some effects can give you bonuses to elements depending on how many orbs you collect.  The type of cauldron used will directly determine the outcome of synthesis, and you can swap between cauldrons as you wish.  This creates a very dynamic synthesis system that's largely based on selecting the appropriate type of cauldron, and putting in materials in the correct order, and the correct locations, to best apply traits and properties of items.  It's a delightful system, and definitely the high point for this game.  The only real drawback is that it sounds like a 5x5 cauldron is optimal in many cases?  Because bonuses are based on the percentage of the cauldron occupied, a smaller sized cauldron has the benefit of applying higher bonuses.  There’s also the issue of the best cauldron being a synthesis of all other cauldron effects, including the one where you have 60 seconds to figure it out, which I hate.  Of all the things to put time pressure on, why the most delicate option?  It doesn’t even really do anything beneficial for you, it just makes you run the risk of failure, which really only means I have to soft-reset ten billion times to make sure I get it right.  It’s just a level of tedium I didn’t appreciate in the end-game.
BATTLE SYSTEM Battle is odd.  XP output feels very low, across all enemy types, and so level ups are hard to come by.  However, level ups are also tremendous.  I've seen characters gain 10 points in a stat in one level up, which is like 5x the typical output of a level for this series.  Other characters have gotten things like 8 attack, 7 defense, 9 speed in one level, which is just unreal.  This would make it seem like Shallie, where stats are tremendous, but with a low start and a massive buildup.  This isn't quite the case, as it turns out.  Final stats in Sophie are actually surprisingly low.   That's because your max level is 20.  At level 20, you stop gaining stats. Level 20 isn't hard to hit, and I'd say I got there around mid-game.  The real fun starts after level 20.  You continue to gain XP, and to gain "levels," but instead what you get are skill points.
Yes, skill points are back, and are way more fun, because they seem more specialized.  You still have the standard few that boost stats by a minimal amount, and the skills that improve on your attack skills.  However, there are many that are specifically tailored to characters as well.  Some, like damage reduction, are available for everyone.  But most characters seem to have a high degree of specialization, such as Harol being about cutting wait time between skills dramatically, or Cornelia being about incredible speed to ensure more basic attacks, or Monika being about improving healing skills, reducing damage, and boosting evasion. It's far from a perfect system, but it's tremendously improved upon the Shallie method, and I really love the changes.
If there's one thing I can definitely lament, it's the weapon and armor creation system.  They went back to basing it off of improved cloth or ingots, and you can't just take one piece of armor as an ingredient to add to the next stage up. This is incredibly bothersome to me.  Worse, with the quality cap being 999 again, it's really hard to reach max quality for some things, and outright impossible to do so for the best weapons/armors, unless you utilize a glitch in the game.  Needless to say, that's exactly what I did, because if it's in the game it's fair.   Maxing out your quality is known to flat-out double the base stats of the armor, so it's a very useful thing to accomplish.
The other detriment is enemy variance.  There are not many enemy types in this game.  There are a lot of locations, but it gets annoying when you travel to all these spots only to be visited by the same like 5 enemy types repeatedly. Considering the limited number of different enemies available at all, it makes it especially crappy that so many are just re-skins.  By mid-game, I had encountered maybe 15 different enemy types max, and of those 5 were puni types, and 3 were wolves.  I'd really like to see more variance, or at least more of the concept of "here's a big, one of a kind enemy type to fight for funsies."  I don't think I encountered any bosses until really late in the game, which...not gonna lie, kind of a downside.
Last thing to note: there’s a damage stat to weapons.  No, not your attack, your damage.  This is a very odd distinction, in that attack will tend to push your characters damage toward its upper limit, but damage numbers ultimately determine how much you deal, such that a change in damage from like 30 to 40 can result in hundreds of extra damage being dealt in combat.  I have no clue how the formula works.  All I know is, everything is based in these damage numbers, because if you get them high enough, the game’s just over.
OTHER MECHANICS Plachta's memories are the core of this game.  See, unlike previous games, where you learn synthesis by purchasing or obtaining reference books and materials, this game has you figure things out for yourself.  Sophie has to come up with the idea for a synthesis from battling monsters, gathering specific materials, or getting specific traits on synthesized items.  In some cases, you even gain ideas by examining certain locations.  Plachta, as your reference book, will give hints about what to do to find the ideas, at which point you are then able to synthesize them.  Certain items, however, are locked behind Plachta's memories, and you need to synthesize or complete requests or battle tough monsters in order to unlock those memories, and be able to progress. You remember how I said the motivation counter in Shallie seemed pointless? Sophie keeps the idea of not having a time limit, but instead introduces Plachta's memories as your mechanic to keep you moving.  You can mess around and gather things you need to make better equipment as long as you want with no downside, but you need to get around to quests and things at some point or the plot won't progress.  This makes Sophie just about the most relaxing of the Atelier games to date, as there is literally no rush to accomplish anything at any given point.  There are exactly two missable events: one is for the true ending and is easily identifiable, and the other is for a specific character event, which you are given several notifications about prior to its occurrence.  It's such a laid-back game, and honestly, that's really nice.
Speaking of Plachta, there's a mechanic where you put different materials into her doll body to enhance stats and thankfully change her ridiculous outfit to something better.  I...never really used it.  I did it twice: once to test out, and once upon learning you could change outfits if you changed her qualities, so I immediately shifted her ridiculous default to...okay, the other one was also ridiculous, but at least she had real clothes.
Vouchers are back as well.  When you complete quests, you gain vouchers, which can be exchanged for certain items.  Some items are great, some are garbage.  Unlike in Rorona, I never really felt the need to get vouchers?  The accessories seem good overall, but often have points of being sub-optimal. They'll likely get you through the game no problem with them, but I can likely create better once I unlock the recipe.  With no time limit, there's no harm in making things myself, after all.
Also making a return is adventuring gear.  You have a bunch to choose from, but really you just want to expand the backpack's maximum capacity, increase the movement speed on the map, and increase how much you gather at one time. These items are great and cool and all...but are severely unimportant in the grand scheme of things because there is no NG+.  I am not sure why there is no NG+, but there isn't one.  This means that if you miss one of the missable events, have fun reloading a save or starting over entirely, idiot.  This also means that getting maximum effects on any of these items isn't as critical, as it won't really help you at all in NG+.  Seriously, removal of NG+ feels so weird.  It makes sense.  You have infinite time and thus can get anything done.  But it's SO WEIRD.
You can also give gifts to people, which I guess means this is a dating simulator game now.   Honestly, I hate that mechanic.  It doesn't really do anything, but it was necessary to participate at times because for the longest time Logy wouldn't unlock a place I needed to go, but after boosting friendship with several gifts he changed his tune.  For party members, this is wholly irrelevant, and you should never, ever do it.
Lastly, the rumors.  At the cafe, you can buy rumors.  Most are just information about characters and their preferences for gifts, but some are worth a couple hundred cole, and will unlock different enemy types, or different material types in specific locations, for a short period.   Let's just get this out of the way: rumors suck.  They are easily the worst part of this game, and probably the worst mechanic in the series.  The concept that materials necessary to character events don't show up naturally anywhere and you have to buy randomized hear-say about it, which then only lasts a short time, doesn't really make much sense.  Similarly, if there are going to be boss enemies, just have boss enemies. The fact that getting any of these things to trigger is hidden behind a massive pool of other rumors and which ones are available is 100% luck-based is just infuriating.   Having no time limit is the only way this is acceptable, but even then you spend a lot of time just sleeping to try and force the game to give you the rumor you want.  It's not the most engaging way to handle things, and the world honestly feels a lot emptier because of it.  Most regions tend to have the same types of materials and enemies, unless you activate the random rumors.  As a result, nothing about the location feels particularly more dangerous than anywhere else, so there's no real sense of progression.  Which leads me to...
ADDITIONAL COMMENTS The traits you get early on are really good, and at a very early point in the game, you can get Attack/Defense/Speed Boost/Enhance traits.  Thanks to infinite time, you can cycle through the traits to create the best possible combination traits, such as Well Rounded Power (+25 to all stats), and the +40 Attack/Defense/Speed traits as early as you want.   This results in a situation where you're blasting through everything with virtually no issue.  Because all areas feel very same-y, there's no location where the improved stats meet much resistance, unless you activate rumors.  Which I think is my issue.  In every other game, there are story-based bosses scattered throughout that you have to face, or at least areas that are super dangerous without new gear, in order to keep you on your toes and make sure you're pushing your alchemy skills forward.  That...doesn't really happen here.  You get the best traits really early on, and then nothing stands a chance for the rest of the game.  I'm not one to complain about a lack of challenge, but I am one to complain about having virtually no feeling that anything was supposed to be a threat.  There's no sensation at almost any point that something I randomly encountered was tough, or that any specific region was a threat.  It's all just...there, with virtually nothing to distinguish one place from another aside from which color the enemies are, and the two or three locations with any hint of lore behind them.   Coming off of the Dusk trilogy especially, this seems to be a lot more noticeable.
CONCLUDING THOUGHTS I have my own points about Sophie that I'm not a fan of, including my decision that I dislike not having a time-limit, but it's ultimately still a fun game that is way more laid-back than previous entries.  I think it hits a very solid average for the series, offering very little that stands out as something exceptional, but having no particularly significant flaws.
If you enjoyed this (for some reason), consider checking out the write-ups for the other games in the series as well!
Atelier Rorona Plus Atelier Totori Plus Atelier Meruru Plus Atelier Ayesha Plus Atelier Escha and Logy Plus Atelier Shallie Plus Atelier Sophie Atelier Firis
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defendourhoodz · 7 years
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Jumpolin Returns to East Austin - Que Viva Jumpolin! Que Viva the Boycott of F&F, Blue Cat Cafe!
In a surprise and welcome announcement, Jumpolin Piñatas has shared that they are returning to East Cesar Chavez after nearly two-and-a-half years without a storefront. Defend Our Hoodz continues to stand with them and welcome them return to East Austin.
We highly encourage Austinites to support Jumpolin and purchase their piñatas, party supplies, party rentals, and custom piñatas at their new location, which formerly housed Julia’s Crafts, at 6205 E Cesar Chavez St.
This is all exciting news and we are extremely happy for the Lejarazu family. They held out hope that they could someday bring Jumpolin back to the street where they had operated for 8 years until the forces of gentrification, in the form of landlords Jordan French and Darius Fisher, tore their livelihood down to the ground.
Of course, the first question to Defend Our Hoodz will be: Does this mean the boycott of F&F and Blue Cat Cafe is over?
Nope.
Just like we never demanded for Rebecca Gray to step down, we have never demanded that Jumpolin must return to the space they were evicted from, or even that they have to return to the barrio.
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Our boycott has been enforced to deny profit to Jordan French and Darius Fisher at the site of demolition, to hold them accountable for their act of systemic, white supremacist violence. We have demanded that Jordan French and Darius Fisher leave East Austin (and Austin for that matter). They are parasites on the community. Like other incoming gentrifier landlords, they only see East Austin for the money they can make off of it at the expense of the longtime residents. 
We assert that F&F, Blue Cat Cafe, and all the businesses that profit from gentrification are part of the wave of making longtime residents feel like strangers in their own community. Their presence directly leads to the higher property taxes, higher rents, and landlord exploitation that pushes out the working-class of East Austin.
As encouraging as it may seem, the return of Jumpolin can not be seen as a reversal of gentrification in the East Austin Barrio. A reversal of gentrification would mean seeing the community serve the working-class, and not the incoming wealthier, mostly white residents. 
It would mean that community members would not be evicted, their rents hiked, and their homes foreclosed on. 
It would mean that the elderly would not have to fear that they will push the limits of their fixed incomes, raising their stress and worsening their health issues. 
It would mean that schools and public facilities that were neglected for decades, when most white Austinites wouldn’t cross East of 35, would not be facing closures now that the wealthier, whiter newcomers don’t have a need for them, or because they won’t send their kids to school with poor black and brown kids.
It would mean that the police wouldn’t harass black and brown residents to serve and protect scared white people. 
While the landlord who brought Jumpolin back deserves credit for trying to maintain a Mexican-American cultural presence in the barrio and support displaced Austinites, we also know that their action is an exception to the rule. 99% of the landlords in East Austin, or in any part of the city, only operate based on one motive - profit.
This is why we seek to build the power of the community to hold exploitative landlords accountable. As a single organization, we have the capacity to maintain the fight against F&F and Blue Cat, but we believe that a boycott of all the gentrifier businesses would create power towards actually slowing and someday stopping gentrification.
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If the thousands of working-class residents of East Austin decided to show their force through collective action - through pickets and calling out those who profit from gentrification - the hipsters, the house flippers, and the slumlords would think twice about seeing East Austin as their ‘up-and-coming’ trendy neighborhood. Instead, the working-class would be ‘up-and-coming’ and moving towards preserving the community that has always been theirs.
The bars, restaurants, high-end convenience stores, cat cafes, etc. are the amenities that developers and landlords seek out in order to cater to the wealthier newcomers. They directly increase the property values and ability of the landlords to profit and transform the community. To cut off their profits would begin to reshape the terrain of gentrification and return power to the community.
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We look to Boyle Heights in East Los Angeles for inspiration, where community members have upheld a boycott of all the incoming art galleries, because they know they are used by developers to raise the profile, and property values, of working-class neighborhoods. They have successfully shut down one gentrifier gallery and more are sure to follow, challenging the ability of developers to use the galleries as part of their speculation, a process now known as artwashing.
Developers are clear about how they use art and hip businesses to push gentrification but still many average people are in denial. The average person still wants to believe this system is meant for everyone, that if you just work hard, you can make it. But it’s politicians, sell-outs, and the wealthy who put out this lie when they want to justify why individuals in our communities are poor or as a whole we continue to see disproportionate poverty, crime, and low education in working-class oppressed communities. 
Did East Austinites not work hard for generations, only to be thrown out once the conditions had been created for maximum profit? Did Jumpolin not work hard but still came to work one morning to see their business and merchandise in ruins? We can not individualize our experiences, they must be placed in the context of the system we live under.
We live under a system of white supremacist capitalism and it’s a lie to claim otherwise. In order to truly create a society of equality, we must first tear down the one that keeps its boot on the neck of the poor, of the oppressed, of the historically exploited, especially the descendants of enslaved Africans and the indigenous of this continent who saw their land overrun by invaders. Through the course of this country’s history, the descendants of these racist white invaders ended up segregating Black, Brown, Asian and Indigenous people in our urban cores (or on reservations) in order to create ‘safe spaces’ for themselves. This government and economic system reinforced that process, illustrating how it was never meant for anybody except wealthy, property-owning white people.
So while Jumpolin has happily returned to East Austin, we remain on guard. We will continue to enforce the boycott of Blue Cat Cafe and F&F and work towards expanding our power to hold the profiteers from gentrification accountable. We know that we can not stop our fight until we fundamentally transform the conditions that allow for gentrification and must achieve real progress for the working-class and poor. Unlike the wealthy ruling-class, we do not measure progress by the trendy businesses they build or the profits they reap, but by the ability of our oppressed communities to thrive without the fear of seeing their community torn down for the supposed crime of not having as much money as the next person that comes in.
We will continue to organize for revolutionary power to build a world that puts people before profit, where gentrification and the story of Jumpolin are talked about in history classes as examples of a savage past.
Que Viva Jumpolin!
Que Viva the Boycott of F&F and Blue Cat Cafe!
Que Viva East Austin!
Que Viva El Pueblo!
Fight Gentrification with Revolution!
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mugspoetry · 7 years
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Man vs God
The Gods have always despised humankind
From the moment they emerged, mewling and blind
An acrid explosion of sordid childbirth
Sent to ravage, pillage and desecrate the earth
Shuddering sobs from the heart of the womb
Crawling naked into an irradiant tomb
A sickening gash on a wound filled with contempt
The world was a disaster, dark, diseased and unkempt
And after countless years of this asinine human unease
The earth became malicious, cold, dead and diseased
So the Gods sent the Devils down into the earth
With orders to ruin it for all it was worth
And in a great battle of hatred, fury and fire
The earth was lit up, an enormous funeral pyre
The sickening mess that was left of humanity
Was butchered and maimed, a wondrous calamity
And now what’s left of the planet smoulders in fire
And great wreaths of smoke taunt what remains in the mire
The birds lie listless, blackened and charred
Smoking like pitiful, malignant cigars
Melancholic ash and mournful steam
Boiling and buckling like some nightmarish dream
Hissing and wailing in a tumultuous tune
Of stagnant starvation and disconsolate doom
Bright rivers of magma ostentatiously sing
As they blister and burn everything
The seas evaporate leaving cities adry
Sucked of their moisture they wither and die
Streams of lava revel in this murderous plunder
Tantalizing the ether like lightning and thunder
They embrace the ruins of what once had been
And dissolve them into nothing, leaving only a dream
The dead call out as they slowly melt away
Voices as low in timbre as the sun in the day
A song of dismemberment, violence and rage
Sung in a riveting and frightfully malevolent age
The world now lies empty, fallow and bare
Like some mangled denizen from a Machiavellian nightmare
Wreathed in an aura of a great, burgeoning death
There is no sound, no colour, no light and no breath
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A thousand years pass, a vast epoch of time
But silence prevails like salt water and brine
The fetid soil remains rancid and bruised
By the stains of the souls whom life did elude
But then in a flash, in a marvelous, magical moment
The earth opened up in a bright burst of atonement
And from the depths of the mangled, murderous soil
Emerged a tendril of green, a mystical coil
A shoot of life, launched into the ether
Blind and mewling, confused and in fever
Desperately searching for moisture and birth
After clawing its way through miles of earth
Within seconds it’s joined by a plethora of siblings
Green plants emerging as brave, fortuitous saplings
The world becomes a viridescent carpet, peppered with shoots
As old, broken soil opens up to new roots
From what once was dead, blackened and charred
An eviscerated void, from which all life was barred
Now emerges a lush tapestry, perfectly aligned
Providing the fuel to sustain humankind
With mouths agape the gods helplessly gaze
Incredulous, shocked, terrified and amazed
Their careful, ruinous, murderous plan
Has been thwarted by this green, perennial clan
With great shouts of anguish the shoots push through the earth
Like a woman being mauled whilst trying to give birth
In bright raiment’s of colour and gleeful screams
The rapturous vines claw through the seams
Emerging victorious they stand on their toes
Breathing in shadows and the world’s dormant woes
Filtered and transformed, they turn dust into snow
Exhaling oxygen and seeds which will grow
Within hours the world has been retransformed
From a grim, desolate plague to a wondrous horde
Of shrubs, sprouts and shoots of tumultuous life
Which pierce through the years of malicious strife
Tenuous forests bleed limbs and leaves
Uprooting the earth with bountiful trees
A bright, mottled raiment of verdant mystery
Engulfing the skies in a green tapestry
Small insects, timid mice and blind, stunted moles
Crawl out from their dark, malevolent holes
Blinking fortuitously in the eye of the sun
They leap and they bound, they spring and they run
In a great vortex of life, beasts grow and evolve
Repopulating the earth with dogmatic resolve
Toothed, furred and scaled, winged, grounded and pawed
Reptilian serpents, jagged and clawed
Systems flourish and dense jungles emerge
Deserts and arctic, sand and snow converge
Savannahs and mountains burst forth from the ground
In a climatic, ecstatic, thick gush of sound
Clouds build fortresses in great alabaster plains
Sucking in dissonance and exploding in rains
As water pours, heavy and expedient from the skies
The soil jumps joyously to receive its prize
Rivers flow thick, jettisoned and desperately vague
Smashing hills into valleys, like some barbaric plague
From the depths of these rivers come plants, frogs and pike
A chaotic assortment of underwater life
Where the rivers expand and the earth disappears
The seas emerge, lightly salted by tears
As the Gods realize in disbelief that they have absolutely no say
In the way of the world and the world of today
And the sea forges deep, briny and blue
Cultivating plains of coarse, saline hues
Unlocking vast chambers stored in the earth
And releasing Neptune’s dark, fanciful mirth
Of tremendous behemoths, scaled and oily
Visceral beings, malicious, unholy
Patched together from nightmarish dreams
Forming creatures of unworldly extremes
Leviathan’s gather in maddening, haphazard circles
Of seaweed, starfish and omniscient turtles
Like moths to a flame or a flame to the sky
The oceans breed demons whom none can defy
Bodies are never buried in the depths of the sea
They spiral downwards, in endless misery
In this world and the next, the sea is unknown
A questionable place, filled with unanswered moans
And finally from this scaffolding, this tremendous design
Emerges once again the frightfully brutish mankind
Evil and cruel, arrogantly shocking
Murderous, malicious and blatantly mocking
One part fear and two parts hate
Contempt for each other reigns innate
He is thrust into the world so tender and bare
Soft skinned, weak boned with only a light covering of hair
The Gods collapse as they view this rebirth
Once again mankind triumphs and rules over the earth
“Perhaps man has struck a deal with the devil?” they say
“ For how else would he emerge here today?”
Within mere hours of being alive and breathing in air
Man has already enslaved, murdered and stripped bare
The entire ecosystem and all it contains
Leaving nothing but discarded animal remains
They build rudimentary shelters of hemlock and grass
Forge weapons of steel, copper and brass
Light fires and sings songs of worship and rage
Heathens and pagans firmly take back the age
They begin to build a civilization again
Fighting, clawing and spreading pain
Pyramids, pantheons, statues and gold
Leaving the world bleak, icy and cold
Burdened by monolithic conceptions of self
They envision a world of material wealth
They craft languages that divide and obfuscate
Spreading insidious rhetoric that spawns fresh hate
Societies form, they spread roots and they grow
Feeding on flesh and the crops that they sow
Complex economies of barter and trade
Letting some grow rich from the goods that are made
Salaried bondage furrows their souls
Through usury, corruption and nepotistic control
This insipid system of interest and gold
Blights their morality and renders them cold
With vice and venom comes chaos and greed
Malignant, ill tempered and driven by need
Great wars are fought again and again
Causing endless turmoil, hatred and pain
Through colonial rancour and classist dementia
Along with spiritual dissonance and racial hysteria
They embark on a maddening rush to embellish their lives
Deep within the folds of apathetic divides
They domesticate reveries, they standardize flaws
They embellish systems of mindless, inflexible laws
They craft intricate societies of complexity and distaste
They taint and truncate, they destroy and debate
They slaughter the forests with perverse apathy
And mangle the oceans with fecal entropy
They live finite, indefinable, material lives
A myopic existence within their grumbling hive
And so the Gods desperately try to intervene
Sending plagues, burning bushes, giant floods and disease
However man is too callous and cunning to care
He simply creates holy books to control what is there
Although, by this time it is already far too late
For mankind has begun his epic migrate
He has colonized the world and built cities and trade
Embedding himself within all that was made
The Gods need a miracle, something tremendously cruel
A ploy to rid the earth of mankind’s dark rule
However the only option available to them
Is so evil, malicious and entrenched within sin
For man has believed since the very dawn of time
That there is a plan for him within this paradigm
He calls it ‘heaven’ and ‘life after death’
And believes that after he dies he will still have breath
Thus religions are formed to enforce this great lie
And they believe they will live even after they die
So even when life becomes remarkably bleak
Humans still strive for the eternal life that they seek
However when you tell man that after he dies
He will just rot in the ground and feed the flies
And that his soul will simply cease to be
He then loses both his will to live and his sanity
And thus the God’s plan is set into action
Through a vision mankind is shown this distraction
And when he realizes that there is absolutely no point to his life
That it’s meaningless, stagnant and filled with strife
Just waves of misery, hatred, torment and bile
Disease, destruction, disappointment and guile
He loses his mind and goes completely insane
As misanthropic hatred clouds over his brain
For he realizes that there is nothing out there for him
And that nothing can save him, least of all religion
Suddenly life is no longer a canvas of limitless scale
And death is no longer a distant, mysterious tale
Thus the world descends into anarchic rage
A chaotic, diseased, myopic rampage
Terror permeates every single sphere
Pervading the masses with mind numbing fear
Insipid and diseased it tumbles and screams
And the world stares in shock as it bursts its seams
It causes cities to crash and churches to fail
As prophets decay and dead children wail
Whilst merchants and thieves perform sickening deeds
And Kings and Queens bow down on their knees
Whilst armies lay wreaths at the feet of the trees
And corpses dance, so agile and free
The world sways between rage and despair
As people convulse and tear out their hair
Whilst their bodies decay and rot in great piles
Of clotted blood, sweat, tears and bile
As eyes leak down faces in scarlet streams
And chests cave in beneath their unease
Whilst lungs are shredded by parsimonious disease
And the sweet smell of death sweeps through the breeze
As fingers lie slack in disrepair
Bones gnawed to stumps that taunt the air
Crimson crayons that draw in the sand
A tale of woe and the destruction of man
They lie in great masses and bleed in the soil
Tongues lying listless and gums trodden frail
Blackened teeth hanging thick with rot
Shattered and carelessly left on the spot
Where bigots lie splattered and smeared in the earth
Clutching bibles and money for all that they’re worth
Great cities are shattered into shards of wrath
Torn apart by a reverent psychopath
Cribs lie callous and hopelessly bare
As pregnant women howl their despair
Whilst their bodies bloat and stagnate in great waves
Of clotted blood and small unmarked graves
Limbs lie scattered in great murderous forests
Like some jagged arrangement from a demonic florist
Ripped from sockets and thrown asunder
They sing to the birds in a deep alluring thunder
A song of tilting tumultuous reveries
That speak of the killing of sanctimonious deities
Who were skinned and raped with a wooden stake
Before being tied to a cross and drowned in the lake
Innocent virgins were swept into palaces
Showered in gold and butchered by phalluses
Their carcasses hung in great dripping mounds
Of fresh, nubile flesh that was passed all around
Children were sent to slaughter their siblings
And to gather their bones and slowly start whittling
Knives and blades of femurs and spine
Helped by their victims to try save some time
Strong healthy men were ripped into halves
And then quartered and drawn and compressed into salves
That were applied to open wounds to speed up decay
And allow the maggots to swim, dance and play
Regal women were turned into slaves
They were rid of their limbs and forced to behave
Gouged and defiled they would crawl in great circles
Providing amusement like vile, stunted turtles
Soldiers were baked in large ovens and turned into clay
Their screams echoing murderously as they slowly turned gray
Their wives were then fed the lungs of the dead
Thinly pasted in bile, like butter and bread
Butchers were gathered and painted bright red
And thrown to the bulls who trampled them dead
Servants then groomed and saddled them like horses
Drilling iron hooves deep into their corpses
Emperors and tyrants were boiled and blackened
Ground into pastes and thoroughly splattered
Throughout the streets and smeared on the walls
Inside bathrooms and on the ceilings of halls
The world swiftly shuddered and tore out its eyes
Flesh flowed in rivers as the people all died
Children and parents dropped dead on the spot
Where they were magnanimously raped and left to rot
Cities caved in and oceans trembled
Mountains cracked and rivers rumbled
The sky shattered into blistering shards
That punctured the earth as it was caught completely off guard
Deflated and dying the world slowly imploded
Hissing through space in endless convulsions
Chaos reigned as it folded over itself
Consumed by fires from its great mineral wealth
The Gods looked down and howled with laughter
Their amusement walked hand in hand with the slaughter
The shock of having to endure mankind’s return
Was wholly erased by watching him burn
With humans defeated the skies were theirs
No longer would they meddle in the God’s affairs
For the spirits had spoken and bargained with fate
No more would mankind reap havoc and hate
The black sheep of the world had been viciously killed
Their planet broken in half with nothing to rebuild
Their putrid little rock was finally dead
And all who lived on it now lay curled in bloodshed
And so comes the end of a time
Where malevolent humans ruined all that transpired
And finally now there is nothing again
Just stretched across space, a giant bloodstain.
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