#i had to do a comp project and remembered this old idea

[manonamora-if]

A tradition with the French Comp is to interview the winner of every edition. Since I won Best Game, I got to partake in this tradition, and answer a bunch of fun questions about my entry and my creation process.

The interview is now available on the French IF community website:

Since it is in French, here is the translation, under the cut. Spoilers ahead. Note: the French article was over 2k words...

Interview with manonamora, winner of the contest 2023

This year, manonamora won the competition, with her entry, DOL-OS. We spoke with her to learn more about her creative process and her future projects!

Can you introduce yourself in a few words? How did you discover interactive fiction?

My name is Manon, a netizen under the pseudo manonamora for years.

I fell into the "cauldron" of interactive fiction in the spring of 2021, when a close friend had sent me the link to the game A Tale of Crowns. I liked this type of game, and it made me rediscover the pleasure of writing, so I stayed. It’s really nice in this pot, we’re having fun!

People appreciated the different levels of depth of your participation and the care taken at the interface, in particular. How long did it take you to design it?

It was a bit of a sprint… 😅

I think I started scribbling my ideas on pages about a month before the entry deadline.

I wanted to try to incorporate both themes (archives and trahison) into the game, just for fun. So I took the easiest path and went on to create an archive of different documents, all linked by the theme of betrayal. Of my list of documents that I wanted to include, I was only able to include half at the end (the other remained in draft, due to lack of time).

The idea of using a computer as a framework and interface for the game came up fairly quickly and organically, since the archive alone was not enough, to my liking. This led to the possibility of adding puzzles (something I didn’t necessarily do in my other games) that I could also link to the theme (like the hangman’s solution or opening Théophile’s account) and creating animated and pixelated visuals (like a fake virus downloaded). I even made a list of puzzles and minigames to add so that the computer looks like a real computer (that’s why there is a sudoku in the "games" folder, or the keypad to open one of the programs).

From there, I thought I would just do two blocks of archives: one on the guest’s account, where some of the documents would look corrupt, and another on Theophilus' account, where those missing documents would be. But by writing certain documents, such as the note in the trash and the journal entries (which were not separated from the archive initially), I had fun looking for the links between all the different parts and thinking more about the universe in which this old computer was. That’s how the Jupiter-Broker project became an artificial intelligence project, more than a virus.

What are the things that inspired you?

Other than a title I had written down in my drafts, I’m not sure which source inspired me to choose this genre or framework or use of the theme in this way. I’ve been a big fan of science fiction for as long as I can remember (I had swallowed Asimov in middle school/junior high… and now I’m stuck with the anthologies of short stories) and video games in general (especially the history and universe of these games). Everything that has to do with robots, the advancement of technology, futuristic stories, and human dilemmas that have to do with these first points, I’m passionate about it! I wouldn’t be surprised if, somewhere in my brain, I could pick up stuff from Portal or System Shock or Fallout or Asimov’s Robot Cycle, or even WALL-E and Alien, without really realizing it.

In my notes, the only concrete thing I could find was one of the entries of the Intertact-IF 2022 game jam: Logical Choices, especially in terms of its simplicity, and, finally, the newspaper too.

For the visual, I wanted from the start to have something simple, with the look of old computer in black and green, like my grandmother’s minitel. I really tried to search for minitel page images (I even found a page editor!). On the other hand, trying to code everything, it didn’t really go well with Twine, especially the animation of the blocks that appear one after the other. I was quickly tempted to create the game in minitel pages, but well, I only had 2 weeks left… It was a bit short to learn a new system. So I just took pictures of old computer screens.

Are there any secrets the players might have missed?

There are several little secrets in the game.

The first category concerns the names in the game: the title, «DOL-OS», is based on the Greek deity of the same name, Dolos, personifying treachery (and bam, the theme of the contest; and it sounded good as operating system name). The AI is named Janus, the deity with two faces. The program of Theodore’s diary, in which he was summoned by his organization to write his days, is named «Ind.ic», coming from the French word indic, a person who informs the police.

Something a little more fuzzy can be found in the writer’s draft, which is related to one of my other games, Exquisite Cadaver, where the player plays this writer, who has not been able to write for months. This is not the first time I have included a link to this game in my projects, like the "cocktail" Renaud’s Nightmare in The Thick Table Tavern.

Where do you get your ideas, generally speaking?

A bit everywhere. Sometimes, it comes organically enough looking at the theme or the constraints of a game jam (La Petite Mort, Goncharov Escapes!). Sometimes, it’s just the desire to push a kind of puzzle or a type of gameplay into a project (Exquisite Cadaver, well it was also the theme). Sometimes it’s typing “trope [genre]” in Google and taking the first thing that comes out (SPS Iron Hammer). Otherwise I have some ideas that have been inspired by books (P-RIX – SPACE TRUCKER, by Stanisław Lem’s Tales of Pirx the Pilot) or films (Meeting the Parents, inspired by Meet the Parents). Other projects or ideas for future projects are inspired by books on my nightstand, or conversations with loved ones, or even just random thoughts that come and go.

I’m not trying too hard to think. If it doesn’t inspire me or amuse me, I’ll move on. Creating interactive fiction is all about fun. And I already have a super long list of ideas I want to do…

You only use Twine. Is there a particular reason? Do you intend to try other creative systems in the future? Maybe some of the other entries gave you some ideas?

For the moment, yes. Twine remains my favourite, having been the first program I hooked up with when I started creating interactive games. The software was easy to navigate and rather playful to use (Harlowe has extra help to code in the program) and the program is open source. It was really important for me, who didn’t have any code or programming knowledge that went any further than that techno hour to the colleague where a substitute had taught us to create a basic HTML page. With Twine, it stuck from the start.

And then, personally, I love that the customisation aspect can be pushed as much. You can do hypertext or multi-choice games, dungeons, RPGs, etc. I created a cocktail bar for my participation in the IFComp last year, and there I did a puzzle. I have a friend who has recreated Minesweeper and another who has made Snake with his sauce. Almost anything is possible with Twine!

When I get tired of Twine, I think I’ll try other systems, especially those to create parsers (because making one with Twine is a bit of a mess… /did and done that). And then also test programs made in France. Already during the ECTOCOMP and the Feldo streams of the games of the old competitions, Donjon had intrigued me a lot. And also ink, to make stories that extend to infinity (it takes too much tinkering with Twine for it to work...).

But my Twine fling isn’t over yet. I’ve only been playing with the interface since last summer, and I don’t feel like I’ve discovered the bottom of the iceberg yet. There are still a lot of things I haven’t tested yet, whether it’s in different formats or gameplay. I would like to do some kind of escape room or RPG in the future. I still want to push the envelope a little further…

You participated in the IFComp (the largest English-language event) before participating in our contest. Are there any differences that particularly struck you between the two?

By missing the inclusion of a theme (which the IFComp does not), I think the biggest difference between the two contests is the attitude of the participants and the players. The atmosphere of the French competition is really relaxed and I noticed a lot of support in the Discord. Or even have a person stream all the games on Twitch (it’s very convenient for me who is a loser in parsers…). It’s really positive!

On the other side, there is the IFComp which is really considered the event of the year, where the authors exhibit their best creations, without any real constraints, some having been in development secretly for years. The atmosphere is more professional and harsh towards its participants. There is really a lot of expectation from the entire interactive fiction community. It’s supposed to be the crème of the crop in interactive fiction.

After that, even if the atmosphere of the French-language competition is more chill, I found the level of entries much more uniform in terms of quality. While the IFComp will often have very poor or even zero entries (the bottom of the ranking having an average of below 2.5 out of 10), the overall French competition had a very high level (a sentiment shared by one of the critics on intfiction.org). The attention to each game had a lot of merit, especially as regards writing.

Another thing that struck me as well was the diversity between the systems and formats used—it is possible that the competition, having three times fewer bids than the IFComp, may have influenced my perspective on the subject. But between the French programs (Moiki, and Donjon), the more popular ones (Twine, Inform, ink), or even made from scratch (like the participations of AZ and Narkhos), there were many choices and important differences between uses. It was a fascinating experience that really made me want to try something new.

Finally, I had a very different attitude towards the two competitions. After taking a little slap during the IFComp (arriving in the middle of the stack and having received fair but also severe feedback, read more here), the expectation I had with myself with the contest was less trying to get to a certain position in the standings, but no more fun creating something different. It was much easier to look a little more… healthy competition, with all the lessons learned during the IFComp and new knowledge and experiences between the two competitions.

And on top of that, you regularly participate in game jams like ECTOCOMP or Partim 500, you co-organize the SeedComp! , and you’re going to participate in the Spring Thing. Is there a secret to such productivity?

Delusion that all this is doable in the allotted time. Free time. And spite. But especially the first point. 😂

(this was the gif that came into my mind when I wrote my answer, not part of the actual interview)

Frankly, I’m not helping my cause either. As soon as I find a project that is a bit interesting, I can get all in on it quite quickly and put all my energy and free time into it. It’s not recommended, actually. Even if all these participations taught me a lot of things (and especially to learn quickly), it tires a lot in the end... I am often emptied at the end of each new jam/comp.

It’s probably a little psychological, too. The will to create a lot to leave a trace behind me, a trace that will represent everything I could accomplish, everything I could be able to do or try to do. The desire to prove to others and especially to myself that I can create stuff that I as a child could not have imagined; especially since before 2021, I really didn’t have any programming knowledge… Willingness, or perhaps duty, to prove that I can solve a challenge in a short time (for example: in 4 hours for ECTOCOMP, or two quiet afternoons for Partim 500), or with significant constraints (One-Button and Two-Buttons jams), or just because there’s a piece of spaghetti code that taunts me about unravelling it.

Anyway...

Do you have other projects underway or coming soon? Perhaps you plan to participate in the contest next year?

Of what happens soon, hopefully, The Roads not Taken, a parser made with Twine, will be finished in time for the Spring Thing. I really want to talk about it, but at the same time, it’s more fun if it’s still a little secret… [note: it is now out!]

Otherwise… Too many projects in progress. Between the demos not yet completed, the translations of my old games finished, the organization of game jams (SeedComp! will not be the only one this year…), and the hope of participating in the next IF competitions, I have given myself a lot of work (too much) to do.

Ha ha ha…

Thank you for answering these questions! Congratulations again, good luck and don’t forget to take care of yourself!

#dol-os #dol os #dolos #interview #winning game #competition game

[thaliagrayce]

For the character thing: our homeboy, Jason

thank you i love you this is fun!!!

First impression: I honestly cannot remember, so it wasn't great lol. I think I found him pretty basic, I was a lot more focused on the other characters in his scenes

Impression now: he is my baby brother, I want to wrap him in a blanket and hug him for 40 minutes. he's shouldering the weight of expectation and trying to do it silently, he's self-sacrificing to the point of harm, he needs someone to gently smoosh his cheeks and tell him he's going to be okay

Favorite moment: this is a little one, but that time that Leo and Piper just made an offhand comment about how they found Nico creepy and Jason told them he was great, actually. i don't have my book with me rn so i can't look up the exact quote, but it meant a lot to me that he stood up for Nico (even in a really small way!) when Nico wasn't even there. that's the core of Jason! he does the right thing even if it's a tiny action, even if it means potentially making people uncomfortable! thats his best friend and his girlfriend that he just gently reprimanded! for a dude he's not even friends with yet, but who needs the support! he's kind!

Idea for a story: lol i currently have about 6 wips involving jason, most of which will never see the light of day, BUT! i've got a bodyswap fic in the works where For Reasons Jason and Will swap bodies for three days and aren't allowed to tell anyone about it. this is frustrating for both of them, and the most revealing Jason Detail in the story is how little he actually shares about his feelings with the people around him - it's far easier for Will to keep up the ruse in his body than it is for Jason in Will's

Unpopular opinion: see, i don't know how unpopular my opinions about the boy are, because i isolate myself in the jasico nation where we mostly have fairly similar ideas about him. i guess my most controversial take so far is that I hc him as gay, not bi. i look at his relationships with girls and see a whole lot of comp het and doing what everyone else thinks is best for him. (it helps that he's my personal projection boy <3)

Favorite relationship: blah blah blah jasico blog I LOVE WHAT HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH THALIA COULD HAVE BEEN. I think the two of them would have been SO good for one another, had Richard decided he wanted them close. Thalia could teach Jason how to care less about the good opinions of others and prioritize his own health and moral compass! Jason could have given Thalia a stronger connection to the mortal world and helped her connect her present self with the girl she used to be! They could have found family in one another again, someone who understands the pressure that comes with being their parents' children! SIBLINGS!

Favorite headcanon: he loved punk music and it surprised everyone who met him :) part of it is that thalia used to play it a lot when they were together because she thought it was hilarious to see a chubby little 2-year-old bouncing his knees to Bikini Kill, and even though he might not specifically remember that, angry guitar and fast drums sound Warm to him. another part is the whole 'he rebelled in small ways' thing he had going on at New Rome. y'all remember that? joined the worst cohort, wanted to change the rules, kept refusing praetorship. he wasn't allowed to publicly act out or express his anger, but Green Day had his back!

thanks for sending this!! if anyone else is interested, here's the ask meme!

#mj talks #lol this was longer than expected whoops #i just have a lot of feelings about him! #my boy

[child-of-the-new-contagion]

really gratuitous grace

12:38am: well, talk about gratuitous grace… I'm doing it again, half a week later - twelve r30s this time, I'm being "moderate" cause I'm not going for a new record dose, just another demi-god trip, where I will probably feel like god again, but a lonely god still rubbing up against His own Grain, the infinite cosmos of limitations based on this little personality I am most of the time, like those weaponized changeling virii that cut off their hand to morph into sentient goo that projects itself as an angry voice that wants, that controls, that demands.

well, well, well well well well well well, there's 5 wells in this instance going back to the well well there's an eleven angstrom shell of heaven between the living void and hell well, look what we have here i guess i'm really trying to re-live the glory days, and yet have high high hopes for making something new as well… dosed about 12:35 - the idea was, don't worry about it so damn much, how bout a spontaneous trip with good vibes, a gratuitous grace, at a point where no reasonable algorithm would dare think i would even consider doing this on this date, considering past behavior - or maybe the cleverest algo behind the clever one would

i'm thinking maybe i'll go watch something and see if i can get into the watching movie trip, and see how that works - integrate more, get casual and spiritual at the same time, some profane fusion - maybe keep it thc free, see how that is - see if it's maybe like a couple of great times where i was trying to follow a trippy m night shayama lambda delta movie on ketamine on creek street - lady in the water, lol, that will always be an A movie for me because of the enhancement, you kinda had to be there, you know? yk?

i think i might try watching that star wars series, andor… we'll see how that does me

1:18 pretty sure I'm starting to feel it. Can I try not to be so lazy in the swoon? Also there's the need to pee, strong. Midsection issues…

Scots evolution… in this disconnected watching of episode 1 of andor, strange vibe, not really following, but seems vaguely profound, in a different way than weed makes things seem profound, less vague in that case

I'm profanizing… Connecting to pasts though, magic on its own…

1:30 look at them, those forest people characters They're all so young. This feeling is getting familiar… Why is there such a need to pee? Lol.

The guy that did that thing

No cats to worry about as I wobble desperately...

so

1:55 i'm plugging things into other things, getting really complicated. fugal. comp crashed… seems to demand metaphors…. ok, we gotta work up a lather here… it's so strange that i find T in this place, and C, and where is my E? the best of all? can't mix though.

Carry over a gratuity… How are we solving the world's problems now? Is this like when we tried to Knext? Should I invite M? Should I start a religion? We can do what we want from this corner! We demand that we do it E style. It's silly, it's lovely, it's an old doiley, but what was old is young again! We could even have B back, and D too, I remember her, and the bonding of elements to women i loved [I can edit whenever I want, remember, I can interpolate, there's meta-cognition going on now, so I can pass through one state and into another, time-travel even, in the telepathetic field]

not being recorded, except experientially… what the mckenna boys could do with sound

i'm not very real, really? am i? is this some fucking captured not that important crumble?

like those ol dabbley immorality players of oldes… hmmm, trying to raise a second sequel over here….

it all gets streeeetched, including cancer drugs… gettin a little personal here…. oh, the songs and tones of deadly politics… Fuck. Wow. No,.

How can we make words have power again. Assign value. How do we make things valuable again, oh, i feel like i figured it out cause i'm not in a music video….

this case

that case

in any case

crossfire

as long as the series of tubes and weird hand flanges…

shubling…

let us just integrate everything and see what happens [prollly nothing good] it's too dense right now….

the voices are arguing with each other thank you for taking it seriously thank you for laughing, thank you thank you

the heat feels good

M, my friend, join us….

omg, 9-

#dxm #dextromethorphan #dr0gs

[islamicbanana]

Pyramids frank ocean producer

#PYRAMIDS FRANK OCEAN PRODUCER SOFTWARE#

I guess I could get more detailed on specific setups if y'all have questions about certain tones/songs or whatever. Thanks for listening and appreciate the love.

#PYRAMIDS FRANK OCEAN PRODUCER SOFTWARE#

Always send the duet through stereo pair of 1073 (any software based stuff has to leave the computer and hit some kind of circuit board). I play the virtual stuff out of my laptop rig (tools/duet2) into my HD rig. Computer stuff is arturia (best shit ever), battery (can still load all my old mpc sounds!), mtron (baddass). Juno 106, Wurlitzer, b-3 organ, Rhodes (keys). P Bass, epiphone eb-2, Yamaha piece of shit ive had since high school (basses). I play old strats, les Paul, 335 (electrics). Vox chain: 1073/cl1b or 1073/Fairchild 670, also used standalone Avalon 737 (part of a mobile rig we created). Coles 4038 stereo room, RCA 44 for close on violins, u67 for cellos Vocals: U47 and 251 (vintage), M149, sm58 (yup)-Įlec guitars: re20 and m160 (fender Princeton, ac-30)Īcoustic guitars: royer 122 (tube), u47, Km84.īass: DI chain is trace elliot GP12 into avalon 737 (just for eq), then squashed thru 1176. Im kinda rambling like a f*k!n idiot right now, so I'll just list some gear I remember using on the records. I've made music on bootleg versions of cubase (big boi) and on the other end re-tracked vox thru a studer A827- back thru a Fairchild 670 (comp) 1073 (eq) back into tools (part of the post process on channel orange). I love gear, shitty stuff, vintage stuff, new stuff. Through the years, I've realized music should never be forced. If it veers off path, I'd rather ditch it and try again another time. A typical session for me starts with me laying down some musical ideas (guitars, keys, drums) and we'll start laying down some lyric/melody concepts. I find creating ideas from scratch with the artist is much more rewarding and allows for the song and the sound to be catered to the specific project. I used to do the track thing when I was younger, but it never really worked out for me. Id rather go into the studio with the artist and/or writers and create from scratch. My writing process with most artists (including frank) is very artist specific i.e.

#Pyramids frank ocean producer

[willthecleric]

i really wanna have hope that byler will happen, and i agree with all of the subtext you've pointed out, i just have a really bad feeling that they're not gonna pull through :( i haven't watched the movies on the s4 list, so maybe that's why i feel less certain, but i'm just generally unsure that it will actually happen, despite really wanting it to? how can you be so sure that it will? love ur blog by the way! :D

Aww, thank you so much! Well, I used to have doubts too, so I get what you mean. But remember a few different things:

1. Mike is clearly written as gay, seeing as he is very much comp het in S3 (bisexual boys can imagine themselves in love with females, it isn’t some foreign concept and ‘something old people do’). Many straight guys found Mike’s behaviour with El strange. For a reason: he was trying to be straight and took it too far. He was especially mimicking Lucas. Seeing Mike as gay also recontextualizes a lot of his behaviour in S1 and S2. I just don’t understand why they would make Mike gay and give him so much coding for it if they were planning to have him with a girl. Makes more sense to have him bisexual or straight then. I’m not exagerrating when I say that Mike’s main story arc is about him realizing he is gay and coming to terms with that and accepting his love for Will.

2. When originally writing the S1 script, El was supposed to die. They changed it, my guess, because she helped them with a few plot points (mainly as a beard for Mike). I’m not sure why they’d have wanted her dead initially if Mileven was planned as endgame. That on top of Mike being gay is another strike against Mileven.

3. El is way behind Mike intellectually. Mike is very smart, and El doesn’t even know what a State is. It just doesn’t work and Mike is way older than her intellectually. It is creepy and will just get worse and worse. Not sure why they would do that if Mileven was meant to be endgame.

4. The Duffers parallelled Mileven with ET and Elliott multiple times in S1, and told Finn that Mike saw El as an alien or a puppy. Not at all romantic. Mileven was paralleled to Dustin and Dart in S2. In S3 it was mentioned that Mike saw El as a pet. Mike doesn’t trust El. He couldn’t answer when she told him to trust her, and changed the subject when Max said he doesn’t trust her. Mike was also justifiably upset about El spying on him (which El never felt bad about). Mike lies to El and El stalks/spies on him. Most of S2 Mileven was El stalking and spying on Mike and they used ominous music (so clearly it is not meant to be romantic). Mike had no idea she was watching him, and we saw in S3 how he would have felt if he found out about her doing that. They danced to a song about a stalking ex. Multiple movies hint that El stalks Mike in S4 (which is supported by her in S2 and S3). Those S2 Mileven scenes weren’t meant to be romantic, they are meant to be creepy. Not that I blame El. She is confused and doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know any better. The Duffers hate Mileven. They have dissed it many times (which kaypeace has shown examples of).

5. Mike and El do not share interests or even seem to like each other. El thinks Mike’s interests are dumb and that he talks too much. They don’t trust each other, and trust is essential to love. Period. Neither even sees the other as a person. She has been a tool/weapon to him. And an alien/puppy. It’s a part of his using her as a beard. He doesn’t feel bad about it because he doesn’t see her as a person. He did feel some guilt over her death, but most of him wanting her back in S2 was wanting her to fix him. His attitude problem and issues with Max in S2 were about his growing feelings for Will, NOT about El. Mike was angry at Hopper at the end of S2 because he blamed Hopper for keeping his beard away from him. He thougnt if El was there, he would not have these feelings for Will. Mike blamed Hopper for everything. Why he was so angry with him in S3. And El doesn’t see Mike as a person either. To her, he is a sense of comfort and normalcy, like her teddy bears and Hopper’s shirt. She also projected a soap opera character she liked onto him. El only found Mike attractive when she thought he was a bad boy. She didn’t know if she liked kissing him after months of making out. She referred to him as her first boyfriend, implying she was thinking of dating others in the future. There is a reason why she came to Mike three months after the main events of the season. Comfort. She lost her dad and was moving away from her new home. She was seeking normalcy. Mike is that to her.

6. They made the ending with Mileven ambiguous as far as if they are dating or not. Which idk why they would do that if Mileven was the main ship. Why make it ambiguous? I think it was intentionally done that way. El was acting romantic while Mike was more platonic in nature. I think that is to hint towards them not being on the same page. As I mentioned, numerous movies and show canon hints to El stalking Mike and spying on him. Multiple movies have Mike frustrated and not interested. And we already saw how he felt about El spying on him. I think El believes they are dating and doesn’t get it when Mike and others tell her that they are not. She doesn’t understand.

7. They made numerous Mileven and Byler parallels in S3, of S2 Byler moments redone for Mileven, and things happening between both ships in the same season. Byler always won by a landslide. They completely destroyed Mileven instead of building it up, which makes no sense if it’s endgame. Mileven had poor development from the start, and if they wanted to pull it off, makes more sense to work hard to build them up instead. Also driving away the fandom so it’s not popular anymore... why do that? It makes no sense. Queer baits don’t do that. Seems more like a straight bait to me.

8. In S1, homophobic Troy was: shoved by Mike (who is gay), forced to piss his pants in front of the school who laughed at him, had his arm broken, and was made to look like a fool. This shows what they think about homophobes. They also have posted LGBT+ positivity on Twitter. They are not homophobic and do not support homophobia. They are not going to work to please a bunch of homophobic Milevens.

9. According to multiple movies and show hints, Byler is essential and key to fixing everything. The Never Ending Story was repeatedly in S3 for a reason. It’s a hint. Not just at Will being the chosen one instead of El, but also... ‘and there upon a rainbow is the answer to a never ending story’. It’s outright telling us that Byler is the answer. Not only because rainbows are a gay symbol in itself, but Mike is also connected to rainbows as a part of his coding.

10. Multiple movies hint that Stranger Things is a book written by Mike for Will, sharing his story and their love story. Mike is the character who wants to be a writer, and the episodes are called CHAPTERS. That supports Stranger Things being a book. And the book is always written by the Mike character for the Will character. They let it be known that Mike wants to be a writer. It was mentioned as his career goal in his yearbook page, and he writes most of the D&D campaigns (besides the one that Will wrote).

11. Byler is the biggest and main relationship of the show. It’s the relationship that gets the most development, the one that gets the most romantic scenes, the one that gets the most coding by far. And every single pairing (minus Jopper and Ted/Karen as far as I can tell) parallels Byler while it is healthy and happy. The moment that stops being the case, they start paralleling Mileven. Not a good sign for Mileven. And Mileven only parallels Byler a lot because Mike has been using El as a substitute for Will (something that is mentioned by the Mike character in a number of movies, using the El character of the movie as a substitute to the Will character).

Hopefully this helped you (and anyone else) feel better about things. 😃

[randomvarious]

SWV - “Right Here” 18 Top Hits 1/94 Song released in 1993. Compilation released in 1994. R&B

The first wave of R&B girl groups in the 90s was dominated by three separate entities: first, there was En Vogue, who were responsible for starting the whole craze, and then came TLC, who were then followed by SWV. And since this is a post that’s gonna be littered with a bunch of fun, little trivia nuggets, here’s your first one: SWV, which is an acronym for Sisters With Voices, originally wanted to call themselves TLC, based on the first initials of their three members, Tamara, Leanne, and Cheryl. But they received a cease & desist letter from Epic Records, who had the TLC name locked up for the soon-to-be sensational Atlanta trio that was on their own roster. And so, Tamara, Leanne, and Cheryl begrudgingly settled on calling themselves SWV instead.

They began in 1988 in New York with two members, Leanne and Cheryl, who both sang at church, and were in search for a third girl to finish out the group. After going through auditions, they chose Tamara, who, according to a Rolling Stone article, was really shy and originally would only sing with the lights off. The three girls also donned stage names. Leanne would be Lelee, Cheryl would be Coko, and Tamara would be Taj. As a quirk, they sent out demo tapes with bottles of Perrier because they couldn’t afford to send champagne. They would end up catching the ear of legendary producer, as well as the father of the new jack swing fad, Teddy Riley (more on him later), and he would end up getting SWV inked to a ridiculously terrible eight-album contract, which the group never completely fulfilled. But at least they got themselves signed to a major, right?

In 1992, SWV released their debut album, It’s About Time, with most of the production coming from a guy named Brian Alexander Morgan. Morgan has gone on to produce, remix, write, and arrange for a bunch of music superstars, including Usher, Drake, Wu-Tang Clan, Mariah Carey, and Ariana Grande. But his first big opportunity came from...right here...with SWV’s debut album.

In fact, it was “Right Here” that would kick things off for SWV, becoming the group’s first single, before their debut album ended up hitting the shelves. But here’s where it might get a little confusing. That first single isn’t the version of “Right Here” that everyone would end up remembering SWV for. Actually, almost no one remembers the original version of “Right Here,” which is an excellent song on its own. Morgan laced his new jack swing beat with organ, electric guitar, and ringing bells that remind us of Run-D.M.C.’s “Peter Piper” and Snap!’s “The Power,” which both trace back to Bob James’ “Take Me to the Mardi Gras”. And Taj raps, too!

The original version of “Right Here” would peak at #92 on the Billboard Hot 100 and #16 on the R&B/Hip Hop chart. The next pair of SWV singles, “I’m So Into You” and “Weak” would fare much better, both reaching the top ten on Billboard’s Hot 100, with “Weak” going all the way to #1. These singles would then set the stage for the release of a new version of “Right Here,” the one everyone knows and loves, which is credited as a Teddy Riley remix, and was fresh for the summer of 1993. It’s commonly dubbed as the “Human Nature Mix” because of its liberal sampling of the Michael Jackson song off Thriller. That particular mix would also feature on the Free Willy soundtrack, which would also contain and lead with Michael Jackson’s “Will You Be There”. 

(Another famous sampling of “Human Nature” would happen in 1994, too, with Nas’ “It Ain’t Hard to Tell,” which was produced by Large Professor. Now, you could be thinking that the “Human Nature Mix” might’ve provided some inspiration for Large Pro to conjure up that particular beat, but as it turns out, “It Ain’t Hard to Tell” was actually recorded in ‘92.)

So here’s the coolest piece of trivia you’ll run into today. Know who’s delivering that catchy “ess, double, you, vee” line throughout the “Human Nature Mix”? Pharrell. And it’s his first vocal credit, ever! One day, he was performing in a high school talent show with his R&B group, The Neptunes (not his production project with Chad Hugo), and guess who was in the audience? Teddy Riley! Riley’s studio just so happened to sit next to Pharrell’s high school. How’s that for luck? Pharrell would end up writing Riley’s verse on Wreckx-N-Effect’s old school hip hop summer classic, “Rump Shaker,” and the following year he was on the “Human Nature Mix”. There’s also a captivating, “give-it-some-time-to-work-itself-out” kind of “UK Remix” of “Right Here” on which Pharrell raps, and in 1996, The Neptunes (now just Pharrell and Hugo) would receive their first production credits for two songs (and an interlude) on SWV’s second album, New Beginning.

And now for something probably even less people know about. Although the “Human Nature Mix” is credited to Teddy Riley, it’s not his work. It’s Brian Alexander Morgan’s, the guy who also produced the original version. Riley’s name was merely attached for marketing purposes only. The label probably thought that if they sold the single as a remix that was made by a production superstar who was using a Michael Jackson song(!), it would move more units than if they said it was by Morgan, which is a name that barely anyone knew. And it seems like the label was correct in its calculus. Even though it didn’t end up hitting #1 (it hit #2), the “Human Nature Mix” remains SWV’s most remembered song, and you can credit it for leading to a re-release of SWV’s debut album, which at that point would add the remix, and would help generate over two million copies sold.

And come to think of it, how many songs can you name in which the remix ended up becoming far more popular than the original version? Before the advent of EDM, anyway. And “Ignition (Remix)” doesn’t count, by the way. That totally misunderstands what a remix is. There’s like a handful of tracks that come to mind: a pair of Amber remixes by Hani and Thunderpuss (”One More Night” and “Sexual (Li Da Di),” respectively), another Thunderpuss remix of “It’s Not Right But It’s Okay” by Whitney Houston, a Latin house remix of Madonna’s “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” by Pablo Flores and Javier Garza, and of course, Todd Terry’s remix of “Missing” by Everything But the Girl. But the “Human Nature Mix” of “Right Here” might be at the top of the list. Lots of people aren’t even aware of the original’s existence. When you say the words “’Right Here’ by SWV,” everyone just assumes you’re talking about the “Human Nature Mix”. When the song is included on compilations, a lot of times the words “Human Nature” aren’t anywhere to be found, like on this random German comp I have that gathered 18 of the top songs from January of 1994. That’s how much more popular the “Human Nature Mix” is than the original. Let me know if you can think of any other remixes that hold a similar status.

One more thing before I get to the music video. This mix is so different from the original. The original version has a much harder edge and clearly took way more thought and effort to put together than the “Human Nature Mix” since the “Human Nature Mix” primarily just coasts off of the Michael Jackson sample. It doesn’t mean the original’s better though. It’s definitely great, but it’s trapped in the new jack swing era, and for that reason, it doesn’t have the staying power of the “Human Nature Mix”. Sometimes a producer finds something that’s easy enough to cobble together and it just manages to hit really good. That’s definitely the case here. The “Human Nature Mix” is just so fluffy; it was perfect summer radio then and it’s perfect summer radio now. It’s like an R&B counterpart to DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince’s “Summertime,” which came out a couple years beforehand. In fact, if I were doing a nostalgic 90s summer mix, I would probably line those tracks up back-to-back (”Rump Shaker” would be somewhere in there, too). There’s just a super relaxing, enjoyable airiness that both songs seem to possess. Oh, and speaking of DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince, you know who provides the background vocals on Will Smith’s “Men in Black” song? Coko from SWV. Wild, right?

So, anyway, the video. It sucks. It just does. It’s not memorable at all, besides the awkward, intermittent slip-ins of footage of Michael Jackson performing “Human Nature” from his Dangerous tour and some clips of Free Willy swimming and breeching. It’s really a missed opportunity for the group. Apparently, there’s another video without Michael and Free Willy, too, but I can’t find it. It sounds like it’s boring though. Oh well.

The first single off of SWV’s next album (”You’re the One”) would do very well for itself, too, and that album would manage to go platinum. But they’d get lost in the fold soon after, while En Vogue and TLC would end up building much more on their prior success. And TLC would come out on top for the late 90s with songs like “No Scrubs” and “Unpretty”.

SWV made good songs, but they weren’t marketed well, at all. Case in point, your last bit of trivia: Taj was a contestant on Survivor in 2009. No, not Celebrity Survivor. Just regular-ass Survivor. No one knew she was Taj from SWV and she didn’t tell anyone on the show either. This lady helped sell millions of records for fuck’s sake. I guarantee you every contestant on that show knew an SWV song and they had no idea who this woman even was. Isn’t that kind of insane? I mean, SWV were by no means one-hit wonders, and they weren’t super popular for that long, but they were definitely an early 90s R&B staple. Anyway, for what it’s worth, Taj ended up finishing in fourth on Survivor. She’s also married to soon-to-be Hall of Fame running back Eddie George. 

So, there it is. One of the greatest and most popular tunes of the 90s. A song everyone likes that has a lot of fun, interesting facts that surround it. Shame that these girls couldn’t sustain their success for the remainder of the decade, but at least they and Brian Alexander Morgan gave us this indomitable classic.

#r&b #rnb #r&b music #rnb music #r n b #r n b music #rhythm and blues #rhythm n blues #rhythm & blues #music #90s #90s music #90's #90's music #90s r&b #90's r&b #90s rnb #90's rnb #90s r&b music #90's r&b music #90s r n b #90's r n b #90s r n b music #90's r n b music #90s rhythm and blues #90's rhythm and blues #90s rhythm n blues #90's rhythm n blues #90s rhythm & blues #90's rhythm & blues

[alarawriting]

52 Project #5: Rosetta Stone

When Triala was twelve, a transmute spoke to her.

She'd never told anyone else the story.  One of the defining characteristics of transmutes was that they didn't speak.  And she had only been a child, and had come within a hair of being killed.  People would say she had hallucinated.  They might even take her to the Magicians, suspecting a traumatized mind.  But she knew what she'd heard.  And the transmute hadn't killed her.

She and the other children in her age group were going to the Magicians to be tested for Magic aptitude.  Already Triala had known that she didn't want to be a Magician.  She feared the transmutes, like everyone on Majer, but she felt a powerful fascination with them as well.  She had to be a Ranger, because only the Rangers got to see transmutes on a regular basis.  Even if it was only to kill them.  Unfortunately, if you had Magician aptitude, you became a Magician whether you liked it or not, and Triala had a deep and disquieting suspicion that she had it. She heard things, and remembered things that couldn't possibly have happened to her.  So she was very tense that day, fearing the interview with the Magicians.

A local Lifeliner brought her and the rest of the locality's 12-year-olds to the huge tree that housed the Magicians' testing center.  They were all made to wait in the outer rim, while the Lifeliner, a woman of clan Ringart, talked to the Magicians.  Then the testers came out, and called for the children one by one, in the order of their birthdates.

As one of the youngest of the twelves, Triala had a while to wait.  So she sat while child after child returned, known now to have no Magic within them-- or did not return, taken away to the training places.  The wait was driving her crazy with dread.  Magicians never deliberately encountered transmutes; close contact with the creatures generally drove them insane.  And Triala wanted to see transmutes.

She got her wish.  When there were four children left, one of the wooden chairs exploded out, the color draining from it as it melted into gelatin.  Triala sat frozen, shock and horror and fascinated excitement paralyzing her, as the gelatin recomposed itself into an evor, a stationary swamp animal with tentacles.  The tentacles lashed out, only seconds after the chair's melting, and caught the Lifeliner in the gun hand before she could get her weapon aimed.  She dropped the gun and screamed as the tentacle dragged her in.  "Kids! Get help!"

The door was blasted open, and three Magicians charged into the room. They tried to form a triangle around the transmute, which changed again, pulling itself in, and leapt.  A huge mouth with devouring teeth flew at one Magician before he could focus his power, and it ripped his head off and swallowed it.

The two other Magicians began to chant, trying to pen the transmute into a protective box as it charged for the entrance.  But without a third, all they could do was keep it in a corridor, and before they could narrow the corridor and crush the transmute, it had reached the first protective door, which it yanked open.

On the other side of the protective hall, the second door came down and transmutes swarmed inside.  Probably there were only five or six, but to Triala it seemed like thousands.  More Magicians arrived to fight.  A slender young man, no older than an eighteen, tried to get Triala and the other three children to safety.  A transmute smashed in his skull, and then tore a little boy apart for good measure.

Jesee and Marin, the other surviving children, clung to each other under a table, trembling and crying.  Triala was trembling too, but she didn't feel it.  She felt numb, strangely aloof.  Despite the blood and the viciousness of the battle, she couldn't quite make herself believe that the transmutes might kill her.

She glanced at the inner door that led deeper into the complex.  It had been sealed off with a metal safety door, protecting the rest of the complex from the transmutes, and essentially writing off the children in the waiting room.  Unless the Rangers showed up in time to rescue them, there would be no help for them-- the complex couldn't be endangered any further for the sake of three children.  The Lifeliner, Marin's mother, was dead, her body strewn in chewed pieces all over the floor.  All the Magicians were dead.  There were also dead transmutes virtually everywhere.

But there was still at least one alive.

The transmute approached.  Jesee and Marin scrambled back, yelling, "Triala, it's coming!"  But Triala was frozen.  The transmute held a vaguely humanoid shape, with huge, luminescent eyes that trapped Triala in fascination.  She couldn't move.  She didn't really want to.

The transmute was so beautiful.

Its skin was pearly luminescent, and the light from the overhead algaelamp made colors dance on it.  Its body was fluidity and grace incarnate.  A human shape made of gelatin, flowing in and out as it moved forward.  It hadn't manifested a mouth, or any other threatening appendage, and its eyes were pools of silver ocean water.  Triala had been out of the swamps just once to visit the ocean, but she had never forgotten how ocean water sparkled, so clear.  

It told her that she had been tested already.

There were no words.  But she knew the transmute had spoken.  Not in language, even the language of mental speech.  Pure thought, with no words.

Behind her, Jesee and Marin screamed.  Triala spun.  They had both been caught by a wounded transmute-- tentacles were wrapped around both their necks.  As she watched, they slumped.

"Let them go!"  she screamed at the transmute.

She heard it say that they would not die.  The thought that she interpreted as "death"  carried overtones of other concepts-- the extinguishing of an annoying light, the squashing of a bug.  Then it gave her to understand that humanity would believe she had been tested already, and had no magic.  Only, what it seemed to be saying was that she had no fearsome human power, and that this was somehow true.  Or perhaps that she could make it true, if she wanted.

She had not been tested already.  And if she was understanding mindspeech-- or something like it-- she had to have Magic.  But it could be true, if she said it to her fellow humans, in the human language that the transmutes couldn't speak.  It would become the truth, if she said it was.

It said to tell no one of this.

And then the Rangers arrived, and cut down the remaining transmutes with lasers.  Jesee and Marin had been poisoned by sleep venom, but would recover.  The Rangers told Triala just how lucky she was. "That transmute was about to go for you.  Why didn't you run?"

She didn't know.  It was as if she were waking up from a dream, now.  It struck her suddenly what danger she had been in.  "I-- I-- couldn't..."

"I hear that happens.  You were unbelievably lucky we got here in time.  Another minute, and you and your friends would have been mute meat."

She knew it wasn't true, but she didn't contradict it.  The transmutes had killed and died to talk to her, just to her. How could she explain that? She couldn't understand it herself.

She told everyone she had been tested for Magic, and had none.  No one checked her story.  She was never tested again.

She never spoke of it, ever.

***

In the flit on the way to her first real mission as a Ranger, Triala thought of that.

The situation they were going into was similar.  The transmutes had broken into a school, killed all the Professionals, and-- as far as the Magicians could tell-- hadn't killed the children yet.  No one knew why.  It was unclear whether transmutes understood the concept of "hostages"-- certainly no human had ever held a transmute hostage against another.  More likely, they planned to kill the children and impersonate them, in yet another useless attempt to mimic humans.  Of all the species on Majer, native and starborn both, humans were the only ones that transmutes could not successfully imitate, because humans were the only ones with language.

"So what do they hope to gain?"  Aisander of Korita asked.  She was a slim, pale-skinned redhead who had consistently been at the top of the class-- though never quite as high as Triala, whose grades were outrageously good.

"What do you mean, Korita Recruit?"  Dilman Ranger asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I mean-- if they know we won't be fooled, why do they bother?"

"If they don't understand language, what makes you so sure they know we won't be fooled?"  Dilman Ranger asked sharply.  "They might have no idea what keeps tripping them up.  Never assume you know how the transmutes think."

"Besides,"  Dereg of Mattorn said, eager to score points, "kids often don't talk right away after a trauma like that.  If a transmute plays an unconscious kid, it might get back as far as that kid's Treehouse before it gets caught, if the Rangers are careless."

"Good point, Mattorn Recruit.  If we rescue any kids, we make them talk before we take them back."

"Do you really think there'll be any kids to rescue, Ranger?" Triala asked.

Dilman's face darkened.  "Doubt it."

"I heard they sometimes kidnap children,"  Aisander said.

"It happens, yes."  He turned to Triala.  "It happened to you, Morell Recruit, if I remember the dossier on you right."

Triala nodded.  "When I was a small baby.  About 2 or 3. I disappeared for close to a year following a transmute raid, and then turned up again.  No one knows why."

"No one knows why transmutes do anything,"  Dilman said.  He checked the flit comp.  "We're almost there.  Morell-- don't get so fascinated with the transmutes they kill you.  Mattorn-- no heroics.  Neither Morell nor Korita's going to be impressed by stupid stunts. Korita-- don't be soft.  If it looks like a kid but it doesn't talk, we can't take chances."

"What if it's a baby?"  Aisander protested.

"Not that kind of school.  It's for sevens and up.  All the kids will be linguistic.  Any that aren't are transmutes.  Shoot them before they get you."

***

When Triala had been training for her Ranger status, the transmute lack of language had been given as the cause of the war between the two species.

"We probably started it,"  the instructor had said.  "The first humans who came to Majer didn't much care what they destroyed, and the transmutes probably fought to defend themselves.  But there's no way to call a truce.  Their memories seem to be as long as ours, and they're probably as intelligent-- but they don't have language."

"What about mindspeech?"  a student had asked.

"Any Magician that actually manages to get through to a transmute goes crazy.  They go catatonic or aphasic, lose their own language.  Or else they just turn totally psychotic.  Human minds can't connect with transmute minds-- they're too different."

"But they must communicate with each other,"  Triala pointed out.  They were wrong, though she wouldn't say it.  Transmutes could communicate with humans, if the humans were young enough. She remembered.

"Undoubtedly, but no one knows how.  Pheromones, maybe.  Or body language-- something incredibly subtle, that won't be affected when they take different forms.  Maybe some kind of mindspeech.  But whatever it is, it means nothing to us.  And our language means nothing to them."

It was something that nagged at Triala.  In the beginning, she hadn't been able to understand why Magicians couldn't communicate mind-to-mind with transmutes.  Later, a Magician from Farest, on the other side of Majer where they spoke a different tongue, had mindspoken to Triala, and she'd understood the barrier.  It was not as if the Farestina was speaking her language; it was as if, for that brief moment, she understood Faresti.  Mindspeech went through the language centers of the brain.  You couldn't mindspeak to a baby, and so you couldn't mindspeak to a transmute.

But if they couldn't speak to each other...  Triala had fantasies in which it turned out that the transmutes only wanted peace, wanted to negotiate coexistence, and if only the two species could talk...  No one would ever know, though, as long as they couldn't talk.  So they were doomed to kill each other, and there was no hope for peace.

When Triala became a full-fledged Ranger, and had some influence, she planned to push for experiments between captive transmutes and children with Magic.  It had to have been her age, that had enabled the transmute to talk to her.  If another child could be found who could speak to transmutes, perhaps Majer could finally find peace.  Right now, though, she was a green recruit on her first real mission, and she couldn't afford to think about peace.  She had to kill transmutes on sight, or they would kill other humans, such as her.  And Triala of Morell Clan was rather fond of life.

***

The school had been built low, where the major branches interlaced into a canopy over the swamp below.  The outer part of the school was built between two major branches, covering forty-five degrees of the tree's surface.  It was built out a good seventy feet; inside, it would be even bigger, where the builders had bored into the major branches and the tree itself.

One of the walls had been broken down.  Dilman pulled the flit up by it, and pointed it out.  "What's that look like to you recruits?"

"Wood rot,"  Dereg said promptly.  "They'd have injected it in, waited a few weeks for it to rot out the wood, and then just kicked the wall in."

Dilman nodded.  "The school should've kept up with its monthly sprayings.  They could've stopped the rot before it got that far.  Let's go in.  And be careful.  This isn't a sim."

Triala knew it wasn't a sim.  No matter how detailed the sims got, they never quite conveyed full smell and tangency.  The scent of rotting wood, blood and feces wafted from inside the school-- recent death, not long enough to produce rotting meat.  The feel of the uncertain creaking boards beneath her feet, the musty chalkboard smell of the air.  The luminaries, globes of water filled with glowing algae, had been smashed, and dim dying algae lay in stinking puddles across much of the floor.  The light was thus reduced to the dim half-tone that made it through both the forest overhead and the ceiling windows.  In several places, the window plastic had been gouged out, and lay forlornly on the floor underneath a skylight.  Occasionally they encountered an adult's body on the way in, sprawled bloody and torn.  Some of the bodies were remarkably close to intact, with dark bruises on their throats indicating a strangling death.

"I don't like this,"  Dilman muttered.  "Where're the kids?"

Triala felt she was being watched.  She kept twisting around to see, but there was no one.  Not even furniture-- transmutes could imitate wooden furniture, but there wasn't even that.  Just dead bodies.

What prevented transmutes from taking the form of dead bodies?

That was an incredibly paranoid thought.  She'd never heard of transmutes taking the form of dead humans before. But she couldn't see what would stop them-- it would solve the language problem, and a freshly killed body would still be warm, so the transmute wouldn't have to go to the trouble of cooling itself.  Perhaps a bloody, torn body would be too dangerous for them, but a body that had been strangled to death...  Paranoia saved Rangers' lives.  She was on the verge of drawing and shooting the dead when Dereg, on point, called, "Found the kids!"

As the others turned the corner, Triala did shoot the bodies.  They didn't twitch or transform.  They sizzled as her beam cooked them, but that was all.  She was being too paranoid, maybe.  Quickly she ran to join the others.  

There were six living kids, huddled together around the corner.  More dead bodies, of adults and other children, were strewn everywhere.  "Names!"  Dereg barked. Transmutes could imitate crying.

"Don't be so rough!"  Aisander complained.  But the kids knew the drill.  Terrorized as they were, they'd still had it drummed into their heads that they needed to speak, to identify themselves as human.  Each of them choked out a name, some sobbing so hard that the name wasn't recognizable-- but the point was to prove they were human, and human speech was recognizable even if individual words weren't.

Triala felt very nervous.  No transmutes.  There were no transmutes.  Maybe she hadn't been too paranoid.  Raising her gun, she said, "Dilman Ranger, I think the bodies--"

She got no farther.  The corpses shifted, as if they'd somehow understood Triala, jerking to their feet and taking different forms.  Despite the fact that Triala had already started to bring her gun into firing position, Dilman outdrew her and blasted two of the transmutes.  A third took the form of a springing creature and leapt for Dilman, but Triala shot it.  Then transmutes from the deeper recesses of the school poured in.

"Ambush!"  Dilman shouted.  He and Aisander dropped back to protect the kids, leaving Triala and Dereg to find cover and help pick off transmutes in the crossfire.  Assuming they didn't get killed first.  Triala rolled behind a metal room divider and fired, taking out a transmute that was practically on top of Aisander.  One got Dereg, coming up underneath where it had been impersonating a severed torso and dragging him down.  Triala couldn't see what happened after that, because a transmute leapt over the room divider and on top of her.  She twisted and flung it off before it had a chance to bite or sting her.  It came back at her, and she fired, cooking its center-- but at the last second it shifted almost all its mass into tentacles, leaving only a thin membrane to be cooked.  The tentacles shot out at her.  There was nowhere to dodge-- she was trapped by the metal divider.  One tentacle wrapped around her gun hand, numbing it.  The gun went flying.  Another grabbed her leg and yanked her to the floor.

Then the tentacles released her.  Triala didn't question impossible good fortune.  Some sixth sense she had never felt in the sims told her that more transmutes were coming over the divider.  She ran, away from her partners, away from the transmute that had attacked her.  Her gun was being guarded by a small transmute in the shape of a cat.  If she could get back to the flit, there were spare guns.  If she could get back--

The floor, destroyed from within by wood rot, gave under her.  In the split second as it gave, Triala understood that the transmutes had herded her here.  Then she fell, shrieking.  There were no major branches beneath her, no strong branches at all.  Her fall to the swamp 80 feet below was almost unbroken.

***

A large number of people on Majer had dreams that they could fly. They would pull up their legs and throw out their arms and they'd be flying.  Or they'd leap and not come down, or they'd flap their arms.  There were some who speculated that there'd been places on Terre, the world of humanity's origin, where the gravity was light enough that they could fly.  Others dismissed this as nonsense, the fancy of Terre-fantasy writers.

Triala had never dreamed she could fly.  But in her life, she had dreamed frequently of breathing swamp water. She would dream of being in the swamp, feeling the water cool against her body, and having no breathing difficulty at all, as if she had gills.  She would dream of the swamp, not as the dull gray murderous thing it was, but as a magic place full of shifting lights, luminescent fish, and wondrous creatures.

Apparently she was dreaming that again.

At least, she was here under the swamp, floating gently, sinking slowly downward, but she felt no real need to breathe, and no sense of pressure.  So it must be a dream.  And when the transmutes surrounded her in their various beautiful swamp-adapted forms, with long flippered legs, streamlined bodies, and shining big eyes, she felt no fear.  This was a dream, after all.  She made no move to stop the transmutes from catching her arms and tugging her with them, gently drawing her through the swamp water.

She was not afraid, but she was curious.  So she tried to ask, "Where are you taking me?"  But the dream had this much verisimilitude, at least; she couldn't talk underwater.  Her words came out in a gurgle.

The transmutes told her that they couldn't hear her.

It was the same strange not-speech the transmute had spoken to her years ago.  And like that, it was virtually indecipherable.  Do not hear? Cannot hear? Do not understand? Are not listening? The not-words echoed, strange and nonsensical, in her brain, overlaid with so many possible meanings she could not precisely decide which.  There was also a sense of kinship-- that they should be able to hear her, that it was her fault they could not.  But transmutes could never understand humans.

Slowly it dawned on Triala that she was in considerable pain.  The dreamlike absence of sensation ebbed through growing stages of hurt, until it felt as if her chest had been crushed and her legs were broken.  As pain returned, true consciousness did as well, and her senses cleared.  This was not a dream.  She had plunged 80 feet into the swamp, lost consciousness, and awakened, underwater.  Breathing, underwater.  With transmutes taking her someplace.

I hurt, she thought.  Oh, gods, I hurt.  It was the only thing she could think, a repeating litany.  Her brain was too occupied with the gradually increasing pain to notice anything else.  It was strange that she was breathing underwater, but strangeness could wait until she was no longer in pain.  Which, she thought, might be several years.  It was her impact against the water she was feeling.  Triala would be very surprised if any bone in her body was left unbroken.

Of course, she ought to be dead.

One of them told her that she should not be in pain.  Or that they didn't want her to be in pain.  Or that they would take the pain away.  Something like that.  Triala turned toward the transmute on her left, positive it had talked, but what had it said?

Then it manifested a barbed stinger.  Suddenly afraid, Triala tried to pull away-- too late.  A sharp jab in her chest, and then pleasant numbness, spreading through her body once more.

She felt dreamy, but would not succumb to it.  She had to think.  That ambush back at the school-- that had been an ambush, set up by the transmutes to specifically take out Rangers.  They were smart enough to know their primary enemies.  The ones that had engineered that trap had been unusually smart-- Triala had never before heard of transmutes impersonating dead bodies. Why had they used that technique this time? And why hadn't they killed her when they had a chance?

She was breathing underwater.  Transmutes were taking her somewhere.  Talking transmutes.  But they didn't speak in language-- they seemed to be communicating in concepts, in pure thought, the precursor of language.  These pure thoughts, uncontaminated by words-- were they what drove the Magicians mad or aphasic? The greatest difficulty they presented Triala with was that they were vague and hard to understand.  Was it that she was not as sensitive as the Magicians? Or that she was more?

Talking transmutes.  A dream come true.  It refused to add up.  How could she be breathing underwater?

Why is it I can understand transmutes?

They passed through a transmute city.  Triala might have caught her breath in recognition, except that she didn't quite seem to be breathing.  Broken branches, major and minor, tree stumps that didn't rise above the surface of the swamp, honeycombed with cells that held transmutes.  All the ones they passed had eyes, which they kept firmly averted away from Triala and her escort.

She remembered the stories of the kidnapped children, some of whom reappeared.  Of adults who disappeared into the transmutes' catacombs, never to return. Was that what they intended for her?

Then they rose up into a grotto, hollowed out from a tree stump, high enough to rise above the water.  Triala had seen photographs of caves, high in the mountains on the northern part of the world.  This was like a cave.  Enough wood remained to create a sloping floor that rose gently from below the water's surface to about a foot above, and then became a plateau, occasionally dipping back down into a puddle.  There was more wood overhead, a ceiling blocking out the dim sun of the swamp. Triala's three transmute escorts began to glow as they entered the grotto, their bioluminescence providing the only light.

For a second, rising from the water, Triala couldn't breathe.  She choked, feeling something in a band around her neck gape open uselessly.  Then the pressure in her neck eased, and she sucked in a gasping surge of air, musty and swamp-smelling.

The flapping sensation she had felt disturbed her greatly.  She put her hand to her neck.  There was a swelling there, going down as she touched it. Quickly it was gone.

What the hell--?

Her escort tugged her forward, telling her she must come.

Triala stepped forward-- and realized that she had healed.  There were no longer any traces of the injuries she'd suffered when she fell.

And she knew this place.  Her eyes widened.  This cave was in her dreams, her nightmares.  Had she been held captive here when she was a baby, prisoner of the transmutes?

The transmutes gestured her over to a hole in the wood.  A small, square hole.  By the light of the transmutes, she peered inside, and saw--

--a baby's skeleton.

And she knew whose.

Triala jerked to her feet.  "No!"  she screamed at them, the three silent figures.  "No! I'm human! I'm human!"

They could not hear her.  Or did not understand, or whatever they were saying.  They told each other that she hid her thoughts, or disguised them, like the invaders did, the despoilers.  One complained that Triala was a failure, absorbed.  Another protested that she would hear, she would accept, she would understand.

They were trying to tell her she was a transmute.  Human infants had not yet learned to speak.  Transmute infants had not yet learned not to.

Put a transmute baby in a room with a human one.  The human one had to be old enough that it could speak a little bit. Transmutes did in fact know what human speech was, and that it kept them from imitating the invaders.  They couldn't speak it, couldn't imitate it, but they knew it when they heard it.  So take such a baby and pair it with a transmute baby.  Tell the transmute infant-- since you and it are both prelinguistic, since you share thought, not words, it will understand you-- tell it that it must mimic the human.  Lavish care on the human, food, attention.  Praise it and play with it when it speaks.  Ignore the transmute baby except when it is fully human, an exact replica of the human it mimics.  And praise it when it speaks, as well.

Until the baby forgets it was a transmute.  Until its birth-gifts go dormant, as it takes on the identity of the human child.  Then release it back to the humans, who will train it to speak and behave as a human, never imagining that it is not.

Triala of Morell died in infancy, allowed to expire by her transmute captors, when their own infant had replicated her sufficiently.

Triala of Morell's tiny bones lay in a wooden grave, in a transmute grotto.

And a transmute who bore the same name crumpled to the floor in anguish, hands pressed to her face, understanding.  They had watched her all along.  They had known that if she joined the Magicians, she would be lost to them, so they created chaos by killing her testers.  Afterward, she collaborated, telling the humans that she had been tested, and they'd believed her.  The transmute power to change what others perceive, to alter what they believe, channeled through the human power of language.

They'd set a trap for her.  Transmutes had always had the power to impersonate human dead.  They had chosen not to do so for a century or two, keeping it in reserve for when they would truly need it.  They had used it this time, just so they could get her back.

They asked her if she understood.  Or told her that she understood.

And she did understand.  The more she heard in pure thought, the less necessary the translation into language was, and therefore the easier it became to understand.  Consciously she tried to think without words, telling them that she did understand how-- but not why.  What was the reason?

The concept that came back at her was so dense it was difficult to unravel. She would be a boundary/bridge/assassin/spy/diplomat.  In languages, the overtones were mutually contradictory, and she sent a lack of comprehension at them.

They replied that she was a transmute that could imitate humans.  She could teach them how to do it.  One thought she could infiltrate human society and destroy the invaders.  Another felt she could make the humans stop their war against transmutes.  She could speak for the transmutes to humanity, could be the ambassador between the races and bring peace.

Humans would assume that one who claimed to speak to transmutes was insane, she tried to tell them.  If medical science could not reveal what she truly was, they would put her in a madhouse, and if it could, humanity might well kill her in a spasm of superstitious fear. The idea of a transmute that could, in fact, speak like a human, could pass for human so well it itself thought it was human, would terrify most humans.  But she wouldn't destroy humanity for the transmutes' sake, even if she could, which she doubted.  She had always dreamed of ending the war, not of committing genocide.  And she knew nothing of her transmute heritage-- she had grown up a human among humans.  If it came to genocide, she had already chosen sides, when she became a Ranger.

Of course, when she'd chosen sides, she hadn't known what she was.

They reminded her, sharply, that she was thinking in words again, and they couldn't follow.

She sent at them a question.  Why had they brought her here?

They replied it was so she would know what she was.

But I don't know what I am.  If I ever knew what it meant to be a transmute, I've forgotten it.

???

Sighing, she tried to think the idea again, without words this time.

They seemed to understand.  One asked her if she wanted to learn.

Yes.  She couldn't make a decision until she knew what the stakes were, and what weapons she would have to fight with.  She gave them her assent.

They told her to come.  

She followed her guides into the water again, and the gills rose on her neck automatically.  She couldn't consciously change herself-- she couldn't shed her human form-- but that was all right, the others told her.  She would learn.

The only transmute with a name swam off with her new companions.

#52 project #alara original writing #science fiction #psionics

[crowfeets]

re: nanonovel project

it has been my nanonovel attempt since age 16 and i have had these ocs since age 12

im STill working on it and want. to make a finished manuscript even just for myself

i gravitate to fantasy and scifi but for some reason this bastard thing wants to be contemporary

i still don’t have 99% of a plot

garbled summary below

what i do know is it’s about this 23 year old comp sci student named hart who is greek-canadian and autistic and dyslexic and has cptsd and anxiety and is Depressed As Hell tm and he’s recently dropped out again and survived a suicide attempt. and is staying on his much cooler sister’s couch.

(her name is em and she is a 30something goth bisexual tattoo artist with dreams to set up her own woman owned shop and marry her gf of like over a decade. her gf is a black trans punk and has a band and probably has a day job. probably several day jobs. she is Also thinking of proposing. also she needs a new name. a cooler name. they also have a one eyed black cat named mrs. peabody.)

and isaac izzy, 29, law student (might change cause it’s a goofy name really. in this iteration that is Also the name of his abusive shitty dad so uh.)

is like this disaster manchild rich hedonist desperately trying to do anything to feel a single serotonin and im like. he has cptsd too but also prob adhd n stuff. he’s lebanese and white and was raised by his white dad. also trauma around mom stuff maybe but i don’t want to fridge her.

he gets kicked out and cut off by above shitty dad. and remembers a friend from a business conference or business school or some shit, spoilers it’s em, and asks if he can cross the border and like stay with her. and shes like “yeah lol chill.”

i bet you can see where this is going this is INCREDIBLY self indulgent.

izzy shows up like hey haha im ~technically homeless~ and hart is like wow you are the single worst person i’ve ever met i can’t believe i’m going to sleep with you.

n like plot stuff about trauma and toxic masculinity and being a gay dude and ideas about what it means to be a man and queer and internalized homophobia also like found family and healing from trauma and realizing it’s ok to be vulnerable and get help.

these two doofuses learn about themselves and grow as people and confront trauma and fall in love and it’s awkward and sappy. and every woman around them is a million times more competent and emotionally together.

IDK IM STILL ON DRAFT ZERO but i want. to get this thing out just for me. maybe no one will ever see the finished thing but it won’t leave me alone haha.

#my own trash goobers tag #crowtalk #suicide ideation ment // #abuse ment/

[ponett]

Welp... it’s over. After nine years, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is over. I just got done watching the series finale with Anthony and, just like I knew I would, when the credits rolled, I cried my eyes out

I should probably say something, huh. I’ve been sharing thoughts like this mostly on Twitter lately, but I started using Tumblr to blog about MLP, so I don’t think it would be right to post this anywhere else

I have a complicated relationship with MLP:FiM. It’s a show that got really hit or miss after the second season, and it has a fandom so toxic and so full of edgy libertarians that it scared me off from formally participating in fandoms for the rest of my life. But it’s also probably my favorite TV show of all time. There are other shows that are much better written, that have more to say, that are more consistent, even including several other cartoons from the same decade. But I think I’d be lying to myself if I said it wasn’t my favorite show

No other piece of media has had as massive of an impact on my life as My Little Pony

I grew closer to some of my closest high school friends because of our shared enthusiasm for the show. I started PonyPokey with Jake and Derek and made a bunch of bad videos and got invited to be on a wildly disorganized BronyCon panel with Jenny Nicholson in 2012. (We went on stage immediately after Lauren Faust’s panel. I barely said a word due to stage fright.)

After years of being too afraid to share my art online, I started putting more effort into learning digital art so that I could draw ponies. It started out rough, but with the drive to improve, I quickly got better. I started Fluttershy Replies. For the first time, I had an audience. I had people who cared about my work and supported me. Even as times have changed, many of you have been following me since way back then

Around the time I came out as bi in 2012, I got really into MLP shipping. Writing sappy comics and drawing sappy art became an outlet for my years of pent up feelings, and helped me sort out a lot of stuff. My Little Pony also completely changed the views on femininity that had been beaten into my skull since childhood. Suddenly, it wasn’t this strange, alien thing to be afraid of. MLP, at its heart, is a show about how there’s no wrong way to be a girl. That’s an incredibly powerful message. Rarity wasn’t a vapid snob. Fluttershy wasn’t a background character who got made into the butt of the joke. Pinkie wasn’t a ditz. These were characters written to be empathized with. And writing about my own feelings from the perspective of Fluttershy felt... right. It took me a few years to fully process those feelings, but eventually, I realized the truth. I was a trans woman. And a cartoon about horses was the first step on my path to realizing this

In 2013, one of the roughest years of my life, I decided to download RPG Maker on a whim to give myself a distraction. Naturally, my first instinct was to make a game where Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash kiss. What was initially supposed to be a short, Fantastic Game-esque playground of silly little jokes spiraled out of control and became Super Lesbian Horse RPG, a game that I poured my heart and soul into over the course of a year. And then, a couple years later, my desire to preserve the ideas from my copyright-infringing fangame also spiraled out of control, as all my creative projects do, and became SLHRPG’s successor: Super Lesbian Animal RPG. SLARPG isn’t really a reskinned MLP fangame anymore--it’s more like a new game inspired in part by my old project. The story has been drastically rewritten, the characters changed, the levels and gameplay redesigned. Most of the cast of the new game wasn’t in the original project in any form. There’s much, much, much, much, much more new content than old left in the game. And the original game had already strayed so far from the canon anyway. But I’m also not sure it would exist without MLP

I made a bunch of friends online, including close friends I still have to this day. I met the people like Bee and Thomas who I’m still working with on SLARPG. Most importantly, because we both blogged about MLP and had some mutual friends, I met Anthony, the love of my life. We’ve been together for five years now and supported each other through good times and bad. This is the lamest, corniest, stupidest thing I will ever say in my life, but he’s the Rainbow Dash to my Fluttershy

...

So what about the finale itself? (spoilers, obviously)

I have... mixed feelings on the finale. There were some things that really annoyed me in there. But also, like I said, I cried, so I think it’s safe to say they did good overall

I think the thing that stuck in my craw the most was Discord. Which I guess shouldn’t be surprising. I’ve been saying for years now how I hate Discord, how he spits in the face of everything the show stands for. He’s an obnoxious elderly manchild who constantly causes problems on purpose and torments his so-called friends the second they stop paying attention to him. But they have to put up with him and give him infinite second chances, because he’s a god and Celestia said they had to reform him

The overarching plot of the final season is that Queen Chrysalis, King Sombra, Tirek, and Cozy Glow (a Darla Dimple-esque filly villain from season 8) had teamed up with Grogar, a “new” villain taken from G1. While this goes on in the background, Twilight is making her preparations to become Celestia’s successor, as we’d known would be her destiny since the day she got wings six years ago. The villain team-up stuff was genuinely fun, and a highlight of the season for me. But then, in the three-part finale, it’s revealed that Grogar was actually Discord in disguise, and that he’d been intentionally trying to orchestrate a big attack on Twilight’s coronation so that she and her friends could save the day and get a big confidence boost going into her reign as princess. This is like... one of the most bafflingly stupid plot twist of all time. It’s literally the end of the show, and Discord has learned nothing. He’s “nice” now, but he’s still intentionally causing huge problems and putting everyone’s lives in danger to solve his problems. He freed four different villains they’d already defeated just so Twilight could beat them again, and in the process they literally blew up the goddamn castle in Canterlot and nearly killed everyone. And yet... they still forgive him, because they have to

I did, however, think that the last two-part adventure episode was fun overall. It tied a nice bow on much of the series, bringing back a bunch of old friends (including cameos from the movie cast!) to band together and save the day. Of course, in the end, they beat the bad guys with a big rainbow laser and sealed them in a statue. You know, even though a previous season finale was all about how solving their problems with a friendship laser and sealing the villains away never worked. Also, Cozy Glow might be evil, but she’s still literally a child? And now her petrified body is on display in the center of Canterlot? What the fuck????

I’m complaining a lot, but again. It was fun overall. It was nice to have one last big adventure, and to have the mane six reflect on how they’d grown since Twilight moved to Ponyville

...

And then we got the actual final episode. And boy did this one hit me HARD

I’m so glad that they ended on a quieter episode about the main cast’s friendships, because that’s what the show is actually about. The two-part adventures to save Equestria every season are fun, but that’s not the real show. We all came back every week for Twilight and her friends

There are things I can complain about here, too. Spike being a buff adult dragon with the voice of a child is fucked up. I’m still not used to seeing Twilight be Celestia’s size. But more than anything, I was always worried that we’d get a Harry Potter ending, where all the characters are paired off into arbitrary marriages so they can all have kids. Thankfully, this didn’t really happen. The only one who had a kid was Pinkie, who apparently got married to Cheese Sandwich (Weird Al’s character) at some point. Like, they literally shared two episodes together, with no hint of romance? But then they got married and had a kid off-screen??? What the fuck???? A lot of people also think that Fluttershy ended up with Discord, and I know I’m massively biased against that ship, but... I mean, they teased the FlutterCord shippers, but there wasn’t really any actual textual evidence that they were any closer than they had been previously. Y’all weirdos who ship Fluttershy with an obnoxious elderly man can interpret that as being “canon” if you want, I guess, but it’s not

The other relationship that shocked everyone in the finale was Applejack and Rainbow Dash, who... appear to be a couple? It’s definitely hinted at. I have... very, very mixed feelings about this. I mean, okay, obivously I’m the big FlutterDash fangirl. But I think AppleDash is cute, too! The problem is that, like... they’ve barely interacted in years? Like, they had a lot of episodes together in the first two seasons, but then the writers barely ever had them interact past that point. I can’t even remember when the last time we got an actual episode focusing on them was. And no, the one where Rainbow takes Granny Smith to pony Vegas doesn’t count

Like... yeah, it’s cute. It’s a nice gesture. Lyra and Bon Bon getting married in the background was also cute. But we can do so, so much better in 2019. We have so many explicitly canon lesbian couples in cartoons. Couples that actually kissed, or got married, or showed feelings for each other. Rainbow and AJ barely even fucking talked to each other in the final few seasons. I dunno, it just feels very hollow to me. Even the Equestria Girls crew admitting they were pushing RariJack felt more substantial to me, because at least they were given on-screen chemistry and lots of canon interaction

But in the end, complaints aside, the finale was about Twilight moving back to Canterlot, and worrying that her friendships would fade because of it. Honestly, I think this is what the finale of the show always would’ve been. It was the perfect story to end on. And boy, it hit really close to home

And then the last song happens, reflecting on how things have changed, but how they’re all still friends. And we see all the other friends they made along the way. And the camera zooms out, and the book from the opening of the very first episode closes, bringing the entire nine-year saga full circle

And then I started sobbing really hard in Anthony’s arms

...

I dunno. I just got done nitpicking a lot, but I still think that the last episode was a good and very emotional ending for the show

I’m going to miss this show dearly. I know it will be back in a new form, and that the leaks indicate that it’ll still star slightly different versions of the Mane Six. I’m also used to shows like this getting rebooted. Hasbro cartoons are honestly lucky to last past three seasons. FiM, on the other hand, got over 200 episodes, a theatrical film, a few specials, some shorts, a bunch of comics (which I still need to read), and a spinoff human AU series that was also really great. There’s no shortage of content, and I’m sure I’ll be returning to the series for years to come. I’m also glad that the show managed to go out on a high note

But still. It was a constant presence in my life for nearly nine years. Even as the quality got really hit or miss, even as they took the premise in strange directions, even as the crew of the show grew more and more dominated by men, it was still a show I could rely on to always be there, 26 episodes a year. I’ll miss it. I hope what comes next is just as good, if not even better. I also hope it’s gayer

I was going to end my ask blog, Fluttershy Replies, around the time the show ended. I’m not sure if I’ll do that just yet. I don’t know. I think that might be a bit much for me to process emotionally. Too many doors closing in my life in quick succession. But I do want to do more with it. These characters will be special to me for the rest of my life

I mean shit, I haven’t even drawn StarTrix yet. I’ve still got a lot of work to do with these horses, folks

#bobby thinks about horses

[waternilly]

The End of an Era

Ship: Blackleg Sanji x f!OC Language: english Word count: 1.5k Warnings: none Ao3 link: here | Wattpad link: here Summary: Musicals! But what if this time the rivals were lovers in real life?

Many weeks and hours of hard work had come to their end. Tonight was the big finale of the musical Florence had built with both old and new friends over the semester. It hadn’t gone without troubles, but they had made it in the end.

As she waited between the wings on the side of the stage, the young woman let her mind drift off.

She thought back about the moment Mozart l’Opéra Rock had been announced as this year’s project. How all the students who would graduate in June shared the same excitement and thrill at the prospect.

She remembered the audition and how learning the lyrics to “Si Je Défaille” had been easy, being engraved in her memory ever since she was ten. She also remembered when she had to show up at the next audition to sing “Tatoue-Moi” on demand of her professor.

Florence had already performed as a male character in a previous project and she knew the professor’s demand was far from innocent. They had something in mind.

And she was right. The next week, once auditions for both singers, actors and dancers alike were over, the results were published.

1. Florence Moire ..... Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

A smile had crept on her face instantly. But what made her even happier was the name just two lines under hers.

3. Sanji Vinsmoke ..... Antonio Salieri

Not only would she perform as the main character of what was probably her favourite musical. The one to act as her rival was her own boyfriend.

Images of her sweet Sanji in black hair and eyeshadow had immediately crossed her mind and she couldn’t wait to see it happen.

That evening, the entire crew had gone to a local student pub and celebrated all night long. Florence lost count of how many times she got congratulated or all the teasing her and Sanji had gotten for acting out rivals.

It was one of Flo’s favourite memories. Everything felt right. No pressure or stress related to the production, school or the internship yet. Only pleasure, joy, excitement.

Rehearsals had started the same week, beginning with a script reading. Songs from the original musical were played whenever they were reached throughout the session. A few voice cracks and poorly acted sentences were uttered, but they were laughed off.

Florence and all the singers then went through some coaching first. Even though they were all decent already, they were still merely amateurs. Some had gotten such lessons the previous years, but everyone welcomed the tips from the teacher with open arms.

While those were reaching their end, they simultaneously started rehearsing with the actors. Their friends had already started learning their lines and now it was time for them to do as well.

To help with that process, Florence would often play the entire musical as background noise while studying or working on anything, to Sanji’s greatest amusement.

He early on realized that the one he tenderly referred to as ‘princess’ was nervous about the pressure put upon her shoulders. He often reminded her that the professor wouldn’t have given her the part if they didn’t believe her to be capable of it. He also loved to add that she would make for a great Mozart and an amazing rival, which would often help her calm down, at least temporarily.

As the dates approached and the rehearsals became longer -every song being performed in their entirety, accompanied by the dancers- the pressure among the whole crew rose. People started worrying about costumes or set pieces not being finished on time, about black outs on stage, about wigs falling off or ladies tripping over their massive dresses.

All of these faded shortly after luckily and everything was done in due time. The final rehearsal in full costume and make up also reassured everyone about what they had created. Which meant, representations could start. But not without some last minute preparations.

Bonney was left with her bright pink hair despite the professor’s reclamations who feared she would steal the show. The young woman’s determination was stronger however and she refused to incline, making her the very first pink haired Constanz Weber.

Luffy, who interpreted everyone’s favourite comic relief, Rosenberg, got his hair coloured grey with sprays often used for Halloween. It was slicked back and his face was painted bright white with two outrageously red spots on the cheeks. All of it, topped off with pencil-drawn eyebrows and two fake moles.

Sanji agreed to changing his style for the occasion. He got his hair dyed in a dark brown and slicked it all back except for one rebellious lock. Needless to say he was a sight for sore eyes like this. But every evening, before the representation, the benevolent make up artists who were fellow students painted his eyes with black eyeshadow, crayon and eyeliner. Black lipstick had also been considered at some point but was eventually discarded. And aside from all of that, he also walked around with black painted nails for a week.

As for Florence, the main thing she had to do was get a haircut. Her pixie hair had grown out during the semester and it required some touch ups. She was the one who had the wildest, most natural hairdo. It only got comped and sprayed to create some extra volume, but nothing too perfect. Her eyes got the same treatment as her lover’s however, which they liked to point out.

And then it was time.

The premiere.

Everyone was nervous to their core while simultaneously trying to help their friends calm down. Singers and actors alike reunited back stage to warm up their voices, a loud buzzing sound filling the room. Dancers took that opportunity to stretch and prepare as well. The entire crew was in its own bubble, in symbiosis with each other. Any conflicts that might have existed before were forgotten for now.

“Are you nervous, my love?” Sanji had asked his girlfriend just before she had to walk on stage.

“Yes,” she admitted.

With a smile, he had said: “You’ll feel better once you’re up there.”

She thanked him with a smile.

“Maybe turn on your microphone before it’s too late though,” he had teased.

Florence agreed, flipped the switch and ran up on stage. Sanji had been right. Merely seconds later, as she was uttering her very first line, she was calm, confident, poised. Every movement, every sentence flowed naturally. She felt good, at home.

To everyone’s surprise, nothing went wrong during the entire first act, which their professor naturally pointed out backstage during the break. They also complimented everyone’s acting, singing and dancing, clearly ecstatic with the result.

Flo knew what would come next. Someone started playing music while another person shouted to turn off the lights. Everyone jumped around and loudly shouted in unison with the music. A few even climbed on the table in the middle of the room to dance on it in a silly way, making the whole crew laugh.

That little tradition remained during the entire week of run, lasting the entire entre act every time. A twenty minute break of partying halfway through the musical.

Except it was now time to walk back on stage for the last time.

A loud ominous music played and Florence stepped into the light.

She gave everything she had in her, jumping and running around on stage.

Sanji then walked up himself, followed by Bonney who gave her best vocal performance yet.

Before long though, they reached the end of the musical and with it, the famous “Vivre à en Crever” scene. The only time Flo got to sing with her boyfriend throughout the entire performance.

She started, careful to keep a steady and clear voice. Then Sanji joined in. And ultimately, they sang together.

It was always one of the most poignant parts of the show and Florence had lost count of how many times she had almost kissed Sanji during it, never giving in however. Until now, whoever didn’t know them personally couldn’t have guessed they were a couple.

But that was about to change as it was time to salute and Florence had an idea in mind.

Once everyone had bowed in their usual position, they all started singing the most famous song of the musical -”Tatoue moi”- to celebrate the final representation. Florence took advantage of the context to ask Bonney to switch places with her since she was traditionally between her and Sanji. Florence wondered if the audience would react and how if they were to. By now, majority of the public wasn’t even from their college.

She started by just tangling their fingers but soon enough they were smiling at each other while singing eye to eye. When they reached the end of the song, Florence stood on the tip of her toes and pecked Sanji’s lips. He only grinned down at her before kissing her back.

Audible gasps, soon followed by extra cheers, could be heard throughout the audience. The public’s reaction was even better than what Flo was hoping for. She imagined the surprise it could be to see two people you pictured as rivals during the past two hours suddenly kiss. It amused her as well.

It might have been her last performance with this great crew of people but Florence had no reason to be sad. They had all gone out with a bang; Ace, Kid, Bonney, Sanji, herself. That night wouldn’t be one of mourning the end of an era. It would be a night to celebrate what they had achieved.

A/N: Bit of a cheesy ending yes, but oh well ^^” Please let me know what you thought of it, I haven’t written 3rd person fanfics in English in literally so long! Also, yeah, OC! Long time since I last wrote one. Any comments are welcome ^^ Thank you very much for reading <3

#one piece #one piece x oc #one piece scenario #one piece imagine #sanji #blackleg sanji #sanji x oc #blackleg sanji scenario #sanji scenario #nille writes #english #mor #mozart l'opera rock #mozart l'opéra rock

[pandawritespoorly]

With Time: Chapter 33 - The Sun’s Going Out

Author’s Note: Woo! Saturday again!

A warning that Adrien is not doing so well. He's struggling, and you may feel uncomfortable reading it. I want you all to prioritize your mental health over my story.

What's this? A strong language warning? It's been a while! 'Bullshit'.

Chapter Summary: Adrien is fine.

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“Alright Chloe,” Marinette says as she takes a seat across from the blonde, “What did you want to talk about?”

“I’ve been working on… a project. For a while now. Originally, I was going to talk to you about it in, like, November, but Adrikins and Sabrina both mentioned that you weren’t doing so well - ‘cause it was cold.” Chloe snaps her compact shut, putting it in her purse and looking at Marinette.

She clasps her hands together, placing them on the table and leaning forward seriously, “I’m starting a non-profit. For bullying. I want you to help me.”

Marinette is taken aback, this is certainly not what she expected. On reflex, she asks, “Why?”

“I know that I can never undo what I did, all those years, when we were kids, but I want to do something to make up for it,” Chloe looks away for a moment, “I did awful things, even when I was trying to be better,” she looks back at Marinette, “I let things with Lila get as bad as they did. I could have done something. I should have helped you before it got to the point it did. I’m so sorry for that. I could have spared you from… so much. It’s… I’m so sorry, Dupain-Cheng. For everything. So, I figured, there’s no use moping about it! I wanted to do something! So I figured… I can try to help? Help other people, and make something positive from all I did.”

Chloe looks down at the table. Marinette can only guess how badly she feels. The Chloe she knew would have never admitted she was wrong, have never tried to do anything like this.

This. This is... 

Amazing.

Marinette stands, rushing to hug Chloe tightly, “Oh, Chloe, that’s an amazing idea. I love it so much! Thank you! I’m so proud! You’ve become such an amazing person!”

Chloe blushes slightly, but eventually shoves the short girl away (gently), “Ugh, I know. Sit down like a civilized person, why don’t you?”

Marinette can tell from her tone that she’s not saying it in a mean way, just a Chloe way. Marinette smiles at her and sits down, ignoring the stares from the other people in the cafe.

She’s so proud.

“Anyways,” Chloe brings them back on track, “I’ve been working on setting it up for a while now. At first, I wasn’t even sure what I could do, but Sabrina suggested a non-profit, and then… well, yeah, here we are.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I’m not really sure, but this just seemed  like your sort of thing, because you know, you’re so you - one of those people that’s just good. It’s almost sickening how nice you are, honestly.”

“Thanks!”

Chloe glares at her. “See! You took that as a compliment! Ugh! You’re ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! Whatever.” She flips her ponytail for effect, “It’s called Everyday Heroes, and it’s going to be focused on educating people on bullying and helping the victims. You could probably work as a speaker on bullying - if you are comfortable with that, of course - which would fall under the scope of ‘education’ I guess. Or just spread the word. If you can think of anything, I’m open to suggestions.”

Marinette hums, “I could do that. Need any help with fundraisers? I can help there too.”

Chloe brightens. “Yes! That’d be great!”

They talk a little longer on the non-profit, exchanging ideas and planning. After a moment, they pause. Chloe sips on her drink and looks at Marinette.

“So, I heard about Adrien. What Gabriel and Lila did…”

Marinette scowls, “Ugh, that.”

“Right?! The only reason that no one is doing anything is ‘cause he’s some dumb old white rich guy. Sabrina brought it up to her father, who brought it up with his superior, who threatened to fire him for even considering going after Gabriel. I mean, can you say ‘corruption’?” “He’s being completely isolated! Sure he’s around people, but they’re not good people-” Marinette pauses at this. She’d always insisted that the class was still good.

They are, right?

She knows they are, but Lila… Lila has twisted them into something dark.

Something bad.

“...good people for him, anyways. This is- this is-” She clenches her hands into tight fists, feeling her nails bite into her skin, “Ugh!” she growls.

She remembers herself. She can’t get mad. That’s not allowed. Not while Hawkmoth is still a threat.

“Come on Chloe, let’s go back to the bakery.” She stands, placing some money down to cover her drink.

“I guess I can go with you,” Chloe sighs.

Marinette smiles. When they get outside, she wrinkles her nose at the chill. She may not be at risk of hibernating anymore, but that doesn’t mean she has to like the cold.

Waving at Maman and Papa as she leads Chloe through the back, she marvel’s at how much has changed in just one year. Less than a year actually.

There’s the whole… Dupont mess. She doesn’t want to think about that.

Chloe though! Now she can bring her to the bakery and no one bats an eye because she’s not a bully anymore. She’s a friend!

“Okay, so I brought you here because I figured that you could help us out. We’re planning to take down Lila during the music comp-”

“I’m in!” Chloe interrupts immediately.

Marinette’s eyes twinkle in excitement, “I thought so. Give me a minute to get everything out.”

Chloe nods, taking a seat on the chaise.

Marinette buzzes about the room, taking out papers and lists. She takes a large rolled-up paper out from some corner, placing it near the pile she’s made as she goes to grab a few last things.

Returning to the mess, she sorts it seemingly at random, moving some this way or that after a quick glance. When there’s enough space cleared, she unrolls the biggest one, spreading it out across the floor.

It’s a schedule for Concours d'arts musicaux, as well as a map of Collège Françoise Dupont.

Marinette takes a sheet of paper from another pile, unfolding it to reveal a rather lengthy list titled ‘Lila’s Lies’. Some are highlighted.

As she makes a few final rearrangements, Marinette says, “Obviously we aren’t going to debunk everything, because we don’t have that much time, but we’re going to assume that the rest will fall if you give the push.”

Chloe gives her a flat look. “Really? You’re making quite the assumptions on their intelligence here.”

Marinette glares. “They’re smart people, Chloe. It’s not their fault they’ve been manipulated.”

“Smart? Sure, when I think ‘smart’ I think a guy with glasses thinking his eye could have been gouged out with a paper napkin.”

“Ignoring that, they’re smart people.”

“Sure. You tell yourself that Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe retorts.

Marinette ignores her. “Anyways, the current game plan is to get Jagged, Prince Ali, Mrs. Rossi in to debunk her lies there. We’ll also play parts of the recording from when she, uh, saw me at the museum-”

“I want to hear that.”

“Chloe, really, it’s fine,” Marinette tries to reassure her.

Chloe shakes her head. “Nope. I want to hear it.”

Marinette sighs, handing Chloe the phone so she can listen. The blonde looks furious by the end. Marinette cuts in before she can say more, “How about you use your anger constructively and help me finalize the plans for the competition?”

---

“... and after fencing you have a picnic date with your girlfriend. It will last at least four hours. To offset the time lost, you will have extra lessons for the next two weeks. Any further dates will do the same. Ms. Rossi is aware of this and has assured me she will plan accordingly. That is all, enjoy your breakfast, Adrien.”

“Yes, Nathalie,” Adrien says robotically. Turning to his plate he can’t even muster up the energy to be disappointed in the small portions. His old dietician had retired. The new one was trying his best to ‘go by the book’ and be very exact in his portions for someone of Adrien’s size and weight. Nevermind that the old one had noted that he seemed to have a ‘worryingly fast metabolism’ given how many calories he loses, and should be fed accordingly.

Nope. That didn’t matter.

Nothing matters in regards to Adrien Agreste.

He’s just some pretty toy for people to show off.

His plate is only half done, but suddenly he’s not hungry anymore. Finishing early gives him approximately ten minutes of free time, so he goes to his room.

In the past, he’d have used this time to play games or text his friends, but now?

Now he just goes to his bed, staring up at the ceiling and focusing on thinking of nothing at all.

Plagg has other plans.

“Kid, this isn’t healthy.”

“Plagg, everything has been properly planned out so that my physical health and wellbeing will be at their peak. I-”

“Well, firstly, that’s bullshit.”

“Such language is not befitting of the Agreste brand.”

“Well thank me I’m not a part of that. Neither are you. A family shouldn’t be a brand first, family second. Adrien, this isn’t healthy for you mentally or physically. It’s only been like a week of this, and you’re a completely different person. I’m worried about you, kid.”

Adrien sighs. He doesn’t have the energy to argue.

This is just his life now. Plagg should accept that - it takes less energy than to fight it.

“Your friends are trying their best to help you out, but Nathalie and Gabriel are playing interception big time. Felix’s appointments aren’t being prioritized-”

“It’s a waste of time anyways. Father wants me to be the perfect face for the Agreste brand. Perfection requires sacrifices, which I have to be willing to make,” Adrien’s voice cracks as he speaks.

Plagg nuzzles into him, trying to provide comfort as best he can. “You aren’t perfect. It’s just a fact of life. You shouldn’t have to be making these sorts of ‘sacrifices’.”

They lay like that for a while before there’s a knock on the door.

“Adrien. Your extra practice for Concours D'arts Musicaux begins soon. Your bodyguard is waiting for you, it is time to go.”

He can’t muster up the energy to call out his usual response, simply rising to grab his stuff and go. Plagg settles around his neck, hidden by the collar of his shirt.

As Adrien approaches the car, he sees the Gorilla give him a concerned look.

He’s fine.

The drive consists of silence. Adrien is sitting up straight and staring ahead of him blankly.

He’s fine.

They arrive, and he exits the car. He keeps his face passive and maintains perfect posture as he enters the building for practice. Adrien is fifteen minutes early as is expected of him. One must make a good impression for the first whole group practice.

He’s fine.

A soft touch to his arm alerts him that someone wishes to speak with him. Of course, he obediently turns to face them. He hopes he’s able to help, because the last thing he would want is his Father to find out he’d been useless.

He’s fine.

“Adrien?”

He finally registers the owner of the voice and touch. Allegra. She’s standing before him, holding a bag from the Dupain-Cheng Bakery. She’s frowning, but it’s the first time in weeks he’s actually sure he didn’t do anything to cause it.

It’s a relief to not be a disappointment for once.

“How are you?” Her voice is still soft, gentle. It’s far from the monotones of those in the Agreste mansion.

“I’m fine.” It’s a reflex.

“No, honey.” She puts a gentle hand on his arm, a touch he could easily shake away if he wanted, “No you’re not.”

He screws his eyes shut, shaking his head desperately, and hugging her tightly. She returns the gesture, petting his hair and making comforting noises while leading him out of sight.

The last thing he needed was for someone to post a picture of The Adrien Agreste seemingly crying. Father would have his head.

It’s a few minutes before he finally lets go. He looks at the ground, “I’m s-”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” she says immediately. The whole group has gotten quick with that response after being Marinette’s friend.

He remains silent, so she continues, “We figured out pretty quick that even with Felix trying to schedule appointments, they weren’t really making it a priority. He got a call that it had to be ‘postponed due to the prioritization of Adrien’s social life’. As if. How are you really? You look pale, honestly you shouldn’t be here if you’re sick.”

He sighs, “No, I’m just…” he hesitates, looking for the right word, “...tired. Father is really cramming in a lot.”

She looks at him suspiciously, “How are you food wise? That old man had better be feeding you.”

“Yeah, he’s feeding me.”

“But…?”

Adrien wonders if she’d care or not. Should he mention it?

Sure, the new dietician cut back on his food, but he hasn’t had much of an appetite anyways.

“I have a new dietician, so my portions have been reduced, but I haven’t really been hungry anyways,” he mutters.

She frowns, “We figured that you wouldn’t be eating enough. Mari sent food with me for you.” She shoves the bag towards him, “I’m under orders from all of them to make sure you eat at least one whole pastry.”

He smiles for the first time in…

How long had it been?

He ends up eating all the provided pastries, and she takes care of the trash for him, and they walk to the main room together.

---

Adrien has finished his homework. He’s done fencing. He’s reviewed Chinese.

He continues to mentally go over his day, assuring himself that he’s done all he’s supposed to, while intentionally ignoring the four hour (it lasted six by the end) date he’d gone on.

Except now he is.

Six hours with he-

No, not ‘her’. His girlfriend.

Just thinking it makes him feel nauseous. Gross. Filthy. Unclean.

He might actually be sick.

The whole thing was a nightmare. Sitting in a park with her. She was constantly touching him, leaning against him, running her hands through his hair.

He doesn’t want to think about how often she kissed him.

A soft knock at the window pulls him out of his thoughts.

Ladybug.

He hesitates. This-

“Kid, you haven’t been going on patrols. She’s got to be worried. Talk to her.”

Adrien had been avoiding Ladybug, even after the three akumas they’d had, he just… he had to get back to his schedule. There would be huge consequences if he went missing for too long. As for patrols - he just wanted to sleep.

He’s tired of being awake.

Plagg is right though, and he really does miss her.

He lets her in.

“Oh, my sweet prince…” Ladybug caresses his cheek, looking at him worriedly.

Adrien doesn’t say anything, just appreciating her company.

“Come on, let’s go. No patrol tonight, I just think you should get out of here.”

Chat Noir and Ladybug take off, and he’s content to follow her lead. He’s not entirely surprised when she lands on her balcony and releases her transformation.

He follows her inside.

“Do you want to detransform?” It’s a question, not an order. Despite that, he feels his ears droop in shame.

“No, I’m sorry. I just… I don’t want to be Adrien right now.”

She smiles sadly, “That’s purr-fectly fine Kitty.”

He still feels bad, and- hey! “Did you just make a cat pun?” His ears and tail perk up.

She smirks, “Purr-haps.”

He grins, “I love you so much!” He rushes forward and picks her up, spinning her in circles. She giggles.

“Want to watch a movie? Or an anime? I have popcorn and pastries.”

“Yes.”

He sets her down and she carefully leads him up to the loft. A bowl of popcorn, a tray of sweet pastries, and her laptop are already there. She crawls to the end, holding her arms out to him.

Chat flops down next to her. She has him choose a movie, and they settle in.

It’s almost like a-

...a date.

Just like that he’s back at the park. That’s all it takes.

“Adri-love! There you are my sweet!”

Lila rushes up to him, not hesitating to kiss him dramatically.

“Hi,” he manages.

She frowns. “Oh no, what’s wrong? Normally, you’d call me something cuter.”

He can translate - cute nickname or else.

“I-I’m fine, my, uh, peacock.”

She pauses, then nods, accepting the name. She kisses him again, which he guesses is supposed to be a reward.

He feels sick.

Her hand grabs his, and she leads him towards the blanket she has set up in a secluded corner of the park. Normally, he’d be grateful that the usual paparazzi isn’t around, but he really wishes that someone - anyone - would be here.

He doesn’t want to be alone with her.

He doesn’t want to be with her, period.

“Chat? What’s wrong? You’re crying.”

Marinette.

He’s with Marinette.

He’s safe.

She’s already paused the movie and set everything aside. She brushes his hair aside, studying him.

“N-nothing,” he whispers.

“It’s not nothing if it’s bothering you - your feelings matter. A very smart cat-boy told me that once.”

He wishes she’d hug him.

He’s relieved she doesn’t.

“I j-just, I had- I- a d-d-date tod-d-day…” he stutters. More tears threaten to fall, but he’s supposed to be perfect.

He hears a sharp intake of breath.

“Do you want a hug? Is touch okay?” She’s well aware of how Lila treats him, and doesn’t want to do anything he’s uncomfortable with.

You know, the way you treat people you care about.

Chat Noir hesitates. His day has been filled with nothing but touch so cold it burned, or the poisonous leaching from her.

Well, not quite only that.

He’d hugged Allegra. That had been nice. A warm hug, not burning, not freezing. Just… caring.

It’s only when he nods that she finally reaches out to him. Burrowing his face in her stomach to hide the tears, he finally lets himself cry softly.

Marinette doesn’t comment on the tears, or the quiet hiccuping of his sobs. She just pets his hair comfortingly.

“It’ll be alright, love. You’re okay, you’re safe. You are absolutely amazing. You’re my favorite person in the whole world - my kitty. Everything will be okay. I promise,” she murmurs. She continues to whisper quietly to him for sometime, eventually just humming a soft song.

It’s the calmest he’s felt all day.

A low purr stutters out of him, and he can tell she’s smiling, even if he can’t see her. He knows she wouldn’t tease him for crying in front of her, but her shirt smells like her, so he doesn't move.

He’s missed her so much.

---

Author’s Note: That child. I feel so bad. For those of you worrying, the competition is soon.

Wondering why Adrien called her a peacock? Well, I was looking for words that meant 'showy/conceited' and that was there. Not to mention one of the villains of Paris is a peacock.

So Chloe, huh? I've been planning this for a while. Like Chloe said, that meeting was originally planned for November.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave any thoughts, theories, constructive criticism, or anything really in my ask box, in replies or through reblogs. I love seeing what you think!

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#miraculous ladybug #with time #fanfic #adrien agreste #chat noir #plagg #marinette dupain cheng #allegra #lila rossi #forced dating #adrien isn't doing so good #strong language #chloe bourgeois #Chloe redemption #crying

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

👀

send me a 👀 and i’ll post a snippet of art/writing that i never got around to finishing this year (r.i.p)

okay so here’s the tea on all the things that didn’t get finished in 2019!

2019 was the year of abandoning short stories lol oops! Here’s the hit list: :’(

1. Growing Season

This is such a hard hit because who doesn’t want to read a story about a woman replacing her boyfriend with a cactus, narrated BY the cactus?? I’d love to revisit this story because a) it’s told in my fave POV (first person directed to “you”) and b) “you” is an apathetic college dropout who goes for the hard dRAG after a bad breakup with her boyfriend, and c) because a cactus NARRATES it.

I’m at a little over 800 words in this story (it def gives me Sea Life by Eliza Robertson vibes).

2. Phantom Limbs in D Minor

Biggest hit! I’ve been working on this story since March, made good progress in the beginning, and slowly began drifting from it. I’ve chipped away at it sporadically over the last few months, and I’ve made it my goal to finish it over break! I don’t see myself hitting this goal, but I do hope to actually finish this story because I feel like it contains some of the best prose I’ve written and I love the vibe! I’m at over 2k words with a scene of about 1k floating around. I’ve actually toyed with making this story a novel because the scope seems quite large, but I definitely want to finish the short story before I think about that more! We follow chaotic Linda as she stress renovates her childhood home (a past! commune!) after her mother’s death. Linda is so precious to me, and I’d love to give her a story! If New York by Ex:Re was a person, it would be Linda lol. 

3. Anatomy of a Swinging Door

I’m making a statement, and my statement is that this is my designated cult story which means it must happen in the future. This was originally my “test out first person retrospective” story, though I think the point of view isn’t working super well here, but we’ll see! I conveniently wrote a logline for this story when I was trying to narrow down the scope, so here you go: A young woman visits her childhood home on the one-year anniversary of her brother’s disappearance and meets the new (and strange) family who lives there. 

(cult!)

So the second round of tragedies goes toward novels, AKA Houses With Teeth (which I can share excerpts from!). 

4. Houses With Teeth

I really struggled with this book this year, because it came to be in a time where my writing was getting an overhaul (though I didn’t realize it at the time)! I’ve learned a lot about intention in writing over the last year, something the Fostered series has lacked (oops). This led to me being very unsure about where I wanted to go with this book in particular--the same route as all the others (weird contemporary with dystopian elements that haven’t fully gone away yet) orrrr plan out something a bit more literary! I’ve fought with myself over this since April, and still don’t know where I’m going, but I’m missing my chaotic diva narrator Reeve and would love to get back into her head! 

This book has gone through about 3 openings, and I haven’t fully landed on any yet. I’m rethinking how I want to start this book, but taking my time with Moth Work to work me up to the timeline in HWT (which takes place about 8 months after the end of Rewired). I think I’ve shared most of this!

Some excerpts of first person retrospective Reeve (AKA Rachel trying to be Emma Cline looool):

Though the church was only a fifteen minute walk from the apartment, I packed a picnic basket of cha siu bao and a bottle of red wine and wore heels so they would know I wasn’t Christian. The basket wasn’t mine and neither were the bao—these were both things I’d taken from Liu. This wasn’t the first time I’d stolen from her. I’d once taken her fifty-dollar jar of saffron from the pantry because I’d heard it was the most expensive spice and wanted to feel rich. I took her jade Buddha necklace because she’d left it in the back and I wanted to feel cultured in her city, I wanted to become her history. The saffron jar was replaced. She didn’t comment when I wore the necklace at my next shift. This was why Liu and I worked well together. She pitied me so would never fire me, even when I skipped shifts and cussed at the customers. I felt entitled to her things because she was kind to me. I felt entitled to her kindness. 

lol I haven’t read this in months and it made me laugh #valid:

I crossed the street before the streetlight changed because this is how I lived in New York City. The world was unfair and lightless and I was an atheist who believed in God, walking in five inch heels on a busted road in the ghetto so I could get enough holy water to drown the ghost out of my apartment. 

When all else fails, add a dash of mother:

The air that summer was always the same: dense and wet, even on the good days. It clung to my arms and threatened to erode the skin there, even when it wasn’t sunny. I remembered my mother’s insistence of sunscreen when I was a child; before the pool, in the pool, out of the pool, when we weren’t even at the pool. Her hands were always cold and the sunscreen was always liquid—Izzy was never good at temperature or putting things in the right places. She’d put the instant coffee in the fridge and the cream on the counter. She’d cook the eggs too long and the ice too little. My father would criticize her as a joke and she’d threaten a divorce. This was the only thing I knew was true about my mother. Sunscreen was expensive, so I never bought it. 

Reeve bringing out the drag:

“Grab me a pack of cigarettes?” I shifted the picnic basket so it rested in the crook of my elbow.

“ID?”

“You don’t need my ID.”

“I ID every customer. You’re nothing special, baby.”

The man’s mustache wilted in the tungsten light of the variety store, spindly like loose threads. My father had grown a mustache like that once, and it took only two nights before my mother cut it off in his sleep. Izzy was brash like that, and I wanted that too; to find a pair of scissors in one of the aisles and chip at that flaccid mustache. There was nothing special about this man, either. All men in New York City tried to look like that; facial hair like coiled up leeches, a gut they pretended wasn’t a gut, but the fault of an unflattering polo from their wives. I imagined the snip of the kitchen scissors on my father’s upper lip, the same snip I heard the next day when he clipped the evergreens lining the walkup. There was something coarse about how similar it all was—pruning trees, grooming facial hair. I had turned twenty that spring—it would’ve taken only a minute for him to pass me a pack, but this was too easy. I wasn’t biological in New York City; I shouldn’t have been. 

5. Fostered But It’s Magic

So this was never meant to be a full project, though I had hoped to write a bit of it just for fun and never got around to it! FBIM (obvi working title lol) is exactly what it sounds like: the Fostered series but with a magical twist! I don’t write very much genre fiction, nor have I ever written fantasy, but a few months ago, felt drawn to the idea of putting Fostered in a magical world (my comp titles are SHREK 4 meets HOWL’S MOVING CASTLE). 

I don’t have any of this written, but I do have a few notes which I can share! 

I didn’t realize I’d made a tag yourself writing these notes but (I’m Lonan):

Reeve is a magical con artist who runs her own business selling bootleg magic. 

Lonan is absent and part bird

Harrison *believes* he is #magic free but has been recently getting hot flashes during nightmares.

Foster has an in-home herbalism business where he helps mostly the elderly and children. He has a cart that he wheels monthly into town. Kind of a failing business.

The gist is that Harrison (who we’d be following) can’t sleep due to hot flashes and nightmares of his ex (@ Lonan) and is referred to a small business run by a clairvoyant who promises to make all psychological problems disappear—relationship issues, sleep issues, life issues. This clairvoyant is actually Reeve who is telikinetic of some sorts, and doesn’t actually provide magic, but manipulates (usually weak) brains, AKA tricks people into paying her large sums of money when she gives them no magical help in return. We ALSO have a “past” plotline, and this is the very loose logline I’d written down (tho if I ever write any of this, is subject to change):

After being tormented by nightmares of his ex lover resulting in violent hot flashes and an inability to keep up employment, Harrison seeks a magical intervention. When the clairvoyant he hopes will cure his strange ailment turns out to be a con woman—and his old friend—he is thrown back into the past and forced to rekindle relationships he thought he’d left behind.  

Some dialogue I wrote down ft. clairvoyant Reeve being Reeve:

H: Why are you doing this? 

R (reapplying lip colour): Is my lipstick distracting you? The colour is dazzling.

H: It’s bullshit. 

R (abruptly stops drawing on lip colour): The lipstick? 

H: Your work.

My fave interaction tho has to be this bit I’d noted down with pure Foster comforting Harrison after a nightmare:

Foster *reading on couch when Harrison wakes up in #panique*: What happened? Harrison? Do you need some eucalyptus? 

*do u need some eucalyptus*

That’s basically all the writing related things I didn’t finish in 2019! I’d love to explore them all in 2020 though! Thanks for asking. :)

--Rachel

#writing #fostered #amwriting #writeblr #writerblr

[mynameisbluenotjane]

This is for a class

So, I’m taking this online comp 1 class. For our final project, my teacher wants us to take something from American culture; a person, place or idea. It can come from high culture (ballet) or low culture (monster truck rally). The idea is to then take this thing and advertise it somewhere. 

Because of reasons, y’all get the pleasure of reading, or scrolling past, about why y’all need to vote. 

Big surprise. It’s an overloaded topic, but 

A) it’s July

and B) I wrote a speech about why 18-25 year olds need to vote and I didn’t want to do more work than I had to. 

To make life easier, if you don’t want to read any more, keep scrolling, no judgement. If you do, there’s more under the cut

While I was doing research for why people my age weren’t voting, I came across this lovely video from Obama from like 9 months ago:

and this became the basis for my entire speech. 

Within this video, three of the excuses he talks about are registration issues, problems voting, and issues with the candidates. 

This https://www.vote.org/ walks you through how to check if you’re registered to vote, and you can register right there online if you aren’t. You can also check where you need to physically when it’s time to vote. (I haven’t actually had the chance to try the second part yet, but the instructions seem fairly straight forward)

Also, there are a bunch of places you can go to get registered to vote other than the courthouse. My campus had a booth set up in the union for like a month before the midterm elections last year. Also, the farmers market in my home town has a booth where you can register and they’ve been there every week this summer. We had a sidewalk sale last week and there was a tent send up by the local newspaper where you could register. I’m sure wherever you happen to be reading this from there are lots of places like that.

Now, when it comes time to do the actual voting, I’ve heard so many people tell me they couldn’t get home to where they were supposed to vote in time. There’s this really great thing called an absentee ballot. 

For those who don’t know what an absentee ballot is: If you aren’t going to be where you’re registered to vote on voting day, or you can’t get to the building you’re supposed to go, you fill out an absentee ballot. Your vote will get counted along with everybody else’s, all you have to do is mail it in before the end of election day. You can print off one from vote.org (see above link), but if you’re in college on a campus, I bet you can find an absentee ballot somewhere already printed off and waiting for your vote. 

We’re almost do the end. 

Candidates being unrelatable is becoming less of an issue (go you guys for making noise), however it’s not improving enough to improve the 18-25 turn out. Our age demographic is frighteningly small. I don’t remember where I saw the statistic, but I think it said that only 14% of 18-25 year olds voted in the 2014 election. I know it’s a really old statistic, but I don’t think it’s gone up much in the last five years, given some of my real life peers. 

If the candidates are unrelatable to you because you don’t know what they stand for, this website is a hub of information. Sure, it takes a while to weed through the extremist views, but when I’ve gone looking, I’ve found both sides of the argument. Besides, there’s always Google. Just stick with new sites and websites with “edu” at the end to make narrowing down where to find information less of a headache. Plus, we all have that super politically informed and aware friend who knows everything. I’d go there first, then start looking in the direction you feel more inclined towards. 

This wasn’t as long as I thought it was going to be, but I just want to close with this:

I’m really early for the next presidential election, but hopefully by doing this, I can give my age group a head start for the next one. Unfortunately, we don’t have the luxury of not caring about what’s happening around us anymore. We have to show those who are before us how much we care, or we’ll be the children who cried wolf. Voter registration and voting is a lot easier than you think, and the only way to make the candidates care about us is to make them. I hope that anyone who is apathetic towards politics, or those who didn’t vote in the midterms and were able, won’t make that choice next time.

#2020 election #american politics #american culture #i don't know #what else do you want #i just want an a #please hear me out #i just want to pass my class #wish me luuuuck #please don't hate me

[fanders-fic-awards]

Birthday Surprise (Summer Fic Comp 18)

Summary: Virgil always wanted to make Roman’s birthday a one he could remember but never thought he was up to the challenge. But with the help of his two boyfriends and a big bounce house, Virgil was sure this year was a year Roman would never forget. [Romantic LAMP]

Trigger warnings: None!

Word count: 2,021

Ballot

Out of all the sides, Roman’s birthday was typically very…laid back. When you have an extra drama queen like Roman, you’d expect some big old grand scheme but nope. The prince much rather stays home in pajamas with his boyfriends all cuddled up watching some Disney movie marathon with some snacks and presents. It was…slightly odd in Virgil’s eyes but if it made Roman happy, Virgil could get behind it.

Though here was the downfall of all of this: the presents. Every year Patton or Logan managed to come up with some amazing gift or whatever and Virgil always felt that he came up short no matter what he did. It could be a poster, art, even serenading Roman for the love of everything holy and yet Virgil always felt like he just wasn’t doing the best. Doesn’t mean Roman felt that way but…Virgil knew. Or, so he thought he knew.

Though that didn’t matter. This year, Virgil was going to give Roman the best gift ever. He had been planning it for years now and it was finally time to put this present into motion. But there were some problems with his plan. One: there were a lot of miscalculations and struggles along the way but he asked Logan for help who was glad to help. Virgil never explained what this was for, but Logan never dares to push the topic with Virgil. When it was all over, Virgil gave Logan a quick peck on the cheek and left. God his boyfriend was so cute sometimes.

Two: decorations. Virgil had been trying to think of things Roman liked specifically but was coming out short. Patton would probably know! Going to Patton, he managed to sneak the questions into their conversation and wrote down the answers. Red, white, Moana, Prince Charming (of course), Mulan, Stitch (huh), and a few more things. When all was done, Virgil told Patton he wasn’t feeling well and decided to call it early that night. Giving Patton a quick kiss on the cheek, Virgil was off for the last part of this big project.

Roman.

Making his way to the Prince’s bedroom, Virgil knocked on the door sheepishly. Shifting from weight to weight, he bit his lip as Roman opened the door. God, he was so beautiful. His hair was disheveled, eyes lid half opened, a random t-shirt and boxers. Did he wake him? Oh god, maybe Virgil should just leave and–

“Virgil?”

“Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Virgil blurted out.

Roman chuckled softly, “Virge, it’s fine. I needed to get up anyway. Did you need something? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah I was just wondering uh–” fuuuuck, “if you could hypothetically go out and do something for your birthday, what would you do?” This was part three of the present. To see what exactly Roman wanted for his birthday. Virgil had a hunch of what he wanted due to Roman always blabbing on about what he wanted. Then again, Roman always blabbed on about he wanted and it always changed at the drop of a hat. He needed specifics.

Raising a brow at Virgil, Roman stared at his boyfriend confused. Virgil proceeded to smile shyly at Roman and Roman just shrugged it off as nothing. “I would…” Roman stopped to think about it. Huh. What would he do? Then the idea struck him. A childish grin spread from ear to ear practically on his face while staring at Virgil. Virgil took note that even he was tired, his eyes still twinkled with stars in them.

“Have everyone on a bouncy house.”

Okay, noted. “What type of bouncy house?”

“A huge one!” Roman beamed as he started to wave his hands, “it’d be in the shape of a castle and when you walk in, everything is made to fit the bouncy house. A bouncy couch, bouncy bed, blankets, everything! And then, when we’re tired, we bring a laptop in and cuddle while watching a movie…why do you ask?”

“Just very curious is all,” Virgil smiled before pulling Roman down by the collar to kiss him on the cheek, catching part of his lip, “I’ll see you at breakfast,” with that, Virgil was gone.

Roman stood there stunned. Blinking slightly, he shook his head out and let his head whip from side to side, trying to spot his little dark and stormy nightmare. Seeing Virgil had truly left him alone and confused, it got him wondering why he was exactly changing but didn’t push the subject. Instead, he went downstairs while Virgil peeked out from the bathroom and grinned. This was going to be the best present Virgil has ever gotten him. Ever.

Then again, that was earlier in the year.

Now, it was a month before Roman’s birthday. It was hectic, to say the least for Virgil. Juggling the videos, Thomas, his boyfriends, and this gift was starting to take a toll on him. His insomnia was through the roof, he lived off of caffeine and probably looked like such a hot mess. His boyfriends noticed it as well. They tried to coax Virgil into taking a day off, staying in bed, just–anything than this. Virgil always protested but finally caved in two weeks exactly before Roman’s birthday.

“Now, you’re allowed to leave your room unless it’s for the bathroom, okay?”

“What about food?”

“You can text one of us and we’ll bring something up for you,” Patton told Virgil, “now, I’m going. I’ll see you later, love you!”

“Love you too.”

After Patton closed the door, he sat there for a minute one or two. When he finally heard footsteps going down the hall and leave, Virgil sprung out of bed. This was the break he was looking for. Sinking down, he popped up in Thomas backward. So maybe he told Thomas one day what his plan was and he got full permission to make this huge bouncy house appear. Not like anybody would see it since the sides had the power to choose who got to see them and who would think Thomas is insane.

Virgil had summoned the huge bouncy castle. It was red and white with gold decorative outlining on the door frame and windows. After kicking his shoes off, he crawled inside, he looked down at the floor. Gold. Good. Looking up, he bounced around making sure everything was in place. A couch, some chairs, play swords, mask, anything else Roman conjured up that he wanted, he could. Going up the stairs that took Virgil forever to freaking make, he noticed the big area with multiple beds. Smiling, there was a pile of different blankets ranging from Disney to science. They were all fuzzy, Virgil made sure that.

Going up one more flight of stairs, he was on the “roof” he guessed. It was sturdy–like when you’re on top of one of those bouncy slides which reminded him to had a slide. It looked like a castle for sure. Two towers and the middle of the walkthrough that Virgil was leaning over to look over at the house with a smile. Everything was coming together.

“Virgil!” A voice shrieked.

Freezing, Virgil eyes snapped down to spot Patton, in awe and fear staring up at him.

“P-Patton!” He stuttered out, “what are you…what are you doing here?”

“I came to find you! You’re supposed to be in your room resting. What is this kiddo?”

“…Roman’s birthday gift.”

“…it is?”

Nodding, Virgil stared at the fatherly figure. Patton just stared at the castle before taking his shoes off and crawling inside. Taking this as a hint, Virgil made his way back inside to find Patton climbing up the stairs to the second floor in awe, “woah, kiddo. How long have you been planning this?”

“Years. I’m so close to being done, please, Patton, let me finish it.”

“Mmmm,” Patton thought, “fine. Under one condition! I get to help, please??”

“…Deal.” Grinning, Patton cracked his knuckles, “let’s get to it.”

—-

Then it came to be the big day. Roman’s birthday. After enlisting Logan in on the gift, they decided on a plan. They’d send Roman on a little treasure hunt. He’d enjoy it, they were sure. So that’s why when Roman woke up and snapped into his clothing, the red sash saying ’HAPPY BIRTHDAY’. Practically kicking his door down, he glowed with excitement. Running down the stairs, he expected everyone downstairs at the breakfast table. Sliding into the kitchen, he saw…nobody. What? Looking around, his smile faltered before noticing something on the table.

‘Hey, there kiddo! Expecting us for breakfast? Well, you’re in for a surprise! Go to the one place that we’re always summoned by our favorite guy!-Patton’

So they were having breakfast with Thomas? Exciting! Sinking down, he popped up into Thomas’ kitchen expecting to see them. Instead, he was greeted by another note.

‘Expecting us here? Not quite. If you could please make your way out to the backyard, you’ll find a very nice surprise-Logan’

“…Okay?” He asked aloud.

Letting his feet carry him through the living room and to the back door, he sunk down before popping back up. Instantly, he was greeted by Patton and Logan. They were dressed like…princes?! Patton had a light blue prince outfit on with a grey sash to represent his sweater. Logan was a black one with a dark blue sash to represent his tie.

“Happy birthday!” Patton squealed while Logan nodded, “Happy birthday, Roman.”

“Thanks, guys,” Roman caught Patton who threw himself onto Roman to give him a kiss, “you didn’t have to dress up for me.”

“We wanted to!” Patton pulled back.

“Thank you guys,” Roman looked between them smiling before it faltered. “Mmm, where’s Virgil?”

Then it appeared. The biggest bouncy house ever. Staring in awe, Roman let his jaw drop. It’s exactly what he described to Virgil earlier in the year. Is that why he needed to know what it was?! Closing his mouth, he shook his head out seeing the castle and looked between the castle, Logan, and Patton, “is that for me?!”

“Possibly. You have to answer to him,” Logan explain.

“Who’s him?”

“Me!” Virgil popped up. He was dressed in all black attire with silver buttons and a purple stash, “I only let the cutest of prince’s in my castle,” he crossed his arms over his chest, “are you a cute prince?”

Roman was grinning like a madman seeing Virgil all dressed up for him. He looked so cute, Virgil would admit it, but not aloud, “I am! And it’s my birthday so that makes me extra cute!”

“Mmmm, I’ll be the judge of that,” Virgil said before disappearing. He crawled out of the house in record speed and walked up to Roman, lips together. Leaning up, he grabbed Roman’s sash and pulled him down into a kiss. Roman gave out a small squeak before kissing back, his arms instantly wrapping around Virgil’s waist. When he pulled away, Virgil tilted his head slightly while thinking, “I approve. What do you guys say?”

“I approve!” Patton grinned.

Logan chuckled and walked over. Putting a finger under Roman’s chin, he lifted his head up and captured his lips into a quick kiss. Pulling away, “I also approve.”

“It’s settled, you’re the cutest prince.”

Roman laughed as he hugged Virgil as Patton and Logan joined in, “oh thank you, guys. I mean, this is too much, truly I didn’t mind just staying in and cuddling. Who’s idea was this anyway? This must’ve taken forever.”

Shyly, Virgil smiled, “it was me.”

“Oh my god,” Roman shook his head, “that’s why you were practically the walking dead. You’re so lucky I love you,” kissing Virgil quickly again, he then kissed Patton and Logan before kicking his shoes off, “let’s go!”

Patton laughed and followed Roman in, the two of them practically throwing themselves into the castle. Virgil chuckled and walked with Logan. As they crawled in, they were greeted with pillows hitting them in the face. Conjuring two more pillows a pillow fight ensued. Roman ended up under everyone after a while in a huge cuddle pile.

Best. Birthday. Ever.

@mis-sinful