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l-e-morgan-author · 1 month

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Draft cover for the on-newsletter-signup free stories which I haven't finished editing yet. (So you can't have them yet; I'll finish editing them to my satisfaction before I open up my email newsletter.)

Further ramble below; it got kind of long. First about what these stories are about, then more rambling about my current works-in-progress and specifically aspects of Patience, Changing that I'm enjoying. Might recycle some of this for the next newsletter tbh.

A quick and not-edited summary of each story:

Ever Changing, Ever Near - Hadassah is different to everyone else, but despite that finds great joy in the changing seasons.

A Fragile Solace - Hadassah and Nem are friends. Despite what happens after, she treasures the friendship that they have.

Both stories were entered to (different) local competitions and were highly commended. I can't give an estimated story length because at least A Fragile Solace requires a bunch of editing that may lengthen it. Since I no longer have a word count requirement because I'm not planning on submitting them to any other competitions, I can go ham on them.

In case you don't know who Hadassah is, Hadassah is from the 2022(? maybe '23) Inklings challenge, which I wrote about 8k of. I was Team Lewis, portal fantasy. A very rough summary is that Hadassah is an autistic girl in a neurotypical world, one of the peasants of that world and chosen to be sent through a portal. Nobody knows what lies beyond. For Hadassah, what lies beyond is found family such as she hasn't experienced her entire life.

I found getting into her head unreasonably hard at the time, which is why I wanted to write stories about her, and why I haven't finished drafting her story. With more understanding of autistic people and also myself than I had then, I expect that when I get back to that properly I'll find it a lot easier to write.

I also intend to edit The Patience of Hope to be another newsletter freebie - the edited version, I mean. I intend to leave the first draft up on my website indefinitely, even if an edited version is published as part of something else (such as A Quiet Patience, though with the number of novellas I've got planned, that might be quite long...). But that's for a little way down the road, not yet.

As for a general update on writing generally, I've written a little bit more of Hands Made for Gentleness, but not much. That will require a lot of working with it once the first draft is done, but I've written up a rough outline of the rest of the main story beats, and I have a clearer idea where I'm going. I'm ideally going to finish drafting Patience, Changing before I really get back to that, which is about 20k away (yay!). I'm thoroughly into the third act, figuring out I need to know my characters better so the third act will require a good deal of rewriting, even though the bones are good. I'm pleased with the balance of characters, and at times even though I'm going "Hmm this needs work", I can switch that off and just work on it. I've been writing drabbles every day for this month, and currently I'm one (1) day behind. The drabbles have been helpful, providing scene ideas I can flesh out into full scenes, so they might be a bit janky in context, but I can edit that later.

I've really enjoyed two characters I didn't intend to include in this manuscript: Hannah (Patience's aunt) and Connie (who Patience meets in hospital). Hannah is a symbol of the seriousness of anorexia, and I am not looking forward to writing her death. At present the scene I'm writing is set on the 19th of November, 2018, and Hannah dies on the 16th of December, 2018. She's already written the letter to Patience, as well as the anonymous letter Patience doesn't realise is from her and which needs rewriting. But she has to die and it will tear my heart out to write her, though I've got to read at least a good chunk of A Grief Observed (C. S. Lewis) before I write about that. At present her death is set for the third last chapter, but I expect to rearrange things - events that I thought would work for two chapters turned out I'll need to significantly rewrite to get to even one chapter, so I'll probably use those events to close the second act rather than close the second act and open the third act as well, and therefore rearrange things to give enough space for Hannah's death. If I go over my planned word count in these chapters that's fine; whatever works. I just don't want to go under.

Having the 3k aim has been really good, because some of the time it's forced me to write 'filler' that I reread and am convinced I'll keep in, and sometimes it's kept me to only that long which is good practise too.

Oh, and also! The other character I've enjoyed. Connie. Connie's in hospital following a suicide attempt, but the psych ward's full up and she's not considered at high risk so she's in a general paeds ward, which is where she meets Patience. She isn't particularly forthcoming about why she's in, and Patience respects that. She suspects but is only told right at the end:

“You make me brave,” she said to Patience, just before she was transferred. “I came in here with a suicide attempt and you have made me discover I want to live. Live! When living has been a slow death all this time. You make me want to live. I wasn’t going to make it and I was okay with that. Now I’m going to fight, because of you.”

They keep in touch afterwards, and probably when I edit The Patience of Hope I'll include a scene with Connie in it. Because just as Hannah has to die, Connie has to live. I love the way both of these characters add to Patience's journey, but without trivialising her own very real issues. That's definitely something I'll have to do an edit pass to make sure I'm not doing, because yes, in the grand scheme of things Patience's hangups are very small but to her they're huge. Which is why I held off on writing this story for a good five years, and I'm terribly glad I did, because this story is far better than it would have been years ago.

Anyway. I'm rambling. All this to say that while I'm struggling a bit with writing it, Patience is still going swimmingly. I anticipate finishing the draft either by end of this month (stretch goal) or next month (realistic goal). Then I can dive back into Hands Made for Gentleness and maybe plotting The Time Travelling Midwife and/or Hadassah's story on the side.

I'm also having a fantastic time with Patience and Nathan's interactions at thirteen/fourteen:

“You’ll get through it,” he said. “In Christ, Patience. In Christ.” She smiled at him. He was very dear to her, standing there awkwardly and smiling his dear awkward smile back.

#tw suicide #hadassah winter #patience changing #patience shepherd #hands made for gentleness #I forget any other tags I want for this xD taglist coming in reblog

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mewtwoevolution · 8 months

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Tyler was glad to be back out from the med ward. He didn’t think he had to have so many tests for such a small hit to the head. It was just a clip board.

He shrugged that off and picked up his schedule for the day and smiled. Oh cool it was enzyme and food day! He didn’t understand why no one else liked getting the bags of powder into the tankers.

The ever teenaged two happily headed off for the supply closet with the list and his schedule. He loved his job here.

He pushed the cart loaded of dog food bag sized bagged substrates. All mixed together they’d make the proteins and nutrients all broken down already for the tank mewtwo to use and stuff….

Did he have a name? One wasn’t a name it was just a number that he was the first one made right? Hm, he’d have to ask that mew that wanders around if she had a name for him since it seemed no humans had named him.

The door slid open. Tyler ready to get right to work before he was sent by a voice over the speakers that was overly electronic and he wasn’t expecting anyone here at this early hour, “W-what did you say? Who’s there?!”

“Apologies. I asked ‘Are you Mr. Greenwhich?” the speakers asked crackling lightly.

He finally noticed movement and turned to the screen and stared in awe at the grey mew floating whimsically on the screen with bright white eyes, “Woah. What are you?”

“I am designated the Mirage Program. Are you Mr. Greenwhich?” it floated more center screen. Cameras zoomed some and refocused to get a clearer picture of the ‘humantwo’ it recognized he was talking to, needing affirmations of this identification…

“Oh uh, just Tyler I’d fine no need for the formal last name stuff heh,” he smiled to it, “Don’t you have a name? That just sounds like uh, species. Like I’m a HumanTwo, so you’re a mirage program.”

It seemed to stare a moment. Some data appeared behind it flowing from head to neck and back as it processed the question and looked through data banks. The entire action only a second really, “I do not have a name no. I only have my designation.”

He shrugged and chuckled, “Well, just means you get to think of one or wait for someone to give you one! That sounds pretty cool. Anyways, I need to get to work. It’s food day for One!”

“Correct. I was meaning to ask since it is you, Tyler, if there couldn’t be more calcium added for this week’s… ‘feeding’ as you called it.”

“Huh, uh… I can ask? I don’t make these, the nutritionist lab does. Wait, why don’t you ask? Like, send an email or something?” He asked it curiously as he finally went over to one of the two huge stainless steel tanks to punch in the code so the top would unseal and the ladder formed.

“My parameters are not to leave this room. I cannot send my data outward or I would break these parameters.”

Tyler looked over after getting a bag on his shoulder, “Huh? But, you’re like, in the computer screen doesn’t that mean you are everywhere?”

He shook his avatar’s head since it was being watched, “If my parameters are set I cannot go beyond them. I have my own stored data and what data is in this room’s specific servers…”

“Huh… let me send one then,” he set the bag down and got a tablet from the panels near One. He paused a moment to look at the pale mewtwo. He shivered as he could see veins under the thin fur and skin. Always so sickly. Creepy. He stepped over to the screen, “So more calcium right? How much and uh, why?”

“The main drain of resources at this moment is calcium, it might start leeching from his bones if it keeps up at this rate that I can scan… and about an extra 100ml for a weeks amount…”

“Resource what? I think I’m out of the loop,” he frowned as he typed out the email…

“The mewtwo here has a tumor causing resource drain. It is in the lower abdomen. Around the cradle of the hips. It is growing at a rapid pace for such a thing… I have not been authorized to run my own scans. Only to use data given…” he swished his tail idly.

Ty looked up again, “Really? Huh… I guess they’d know more about where you’re good to be. I sent off that email and hopefully we’ll hear back soon.”

“Your efforts are positive,” he replied.

“Uh, positive? Is that the word you wanted?” Tyler asked without thinking before backtracking, “I mean, heh, it’s okay I got what you mean-”

“What would be a more appropriate response?” it asked curiously. The tone evident…

“Er, well if you thought what I did for you was good and you liked it, it’s uh, more like you appreciate it or you’re thankful I did it?”

The data flow from the head to neck flashed up and then it nodded, “Then yes. I appreciate what you did and I thank you…”

“No problem, if it helps mewtwo I’m happy to do it,” he smiled bright and put up the tablet to go back and grab the bag again, “So you learn? Heh that is even cooler. Makes me think of those sci-fi movies but that had time travel.”

“… yes I am artificially intelligent.”

“Man you just get cooler don’t you?”

“My home CPU is running at an optimal temperature-”

“Not that kind of cool,” Tyler chuckled just watching himself as he dumped the powder into the tanker, “You’ll get the hang of it.”

The tablet pinged and a camera zoomed in to see the message, “I see they have replied they will prepare it for this evening… that will be adequate, he would remain stable enough until then…”

“She did? Thanks! You’re super helpful. Maybe some day you can do more than only helping One in only this room…” he climbed back down and grabbed the next bag to take up to dump…

It was about to comment again before a message appeared directly in the room chat, the aviator floating over to the other program, “Its… addressed to me? Nine has requested I begin scans every five minutes…”

Tyler looked over, “Heh, guess he’s going to visit Glimmer again. She really wasn’t taking those coffee burns that well. She’s really small and it was a big cup…” he frowned a moment thinking about that before shrugging, “But hey! That’s good right? Now you can do scanning on your own!”

“Indeed. These new parameters are sufficient. I will narrow down to the immediate area and accurate expansion with this frequency and my own data tools…” his little avatar kicked the chat out of the way to minimize it and he floated to the other side of the screen.

“You can do all that? Can you figure out how to get it out too?” Tyler climbed down and pressed the code to close the lid back and it hissed as it sealed back and a bubbling noise started up as purified water was added and the mixture stirred up with it…

“Yes. Yes I can.”

#the mewning flower #mewten crew #mewtwo #mewtwo oc #Tyler mewtwo #one mewtwo #mirage program #mirage mew

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littlemissmanga · 10 months

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Hey Beth<33 For the fic writing asks 🦋, 💥 and 🧿?

Hi Ezzie!

Let's see ...

🦋what are you most insecure about when you post a fic?

Honestly, it's that my intentions get across - with the characters, emotions, and especially actions. More often than I'd like, I'll reread something I wrote - not even just fics, I'm talking emails, texts, replies, etc. - and realize it was a lot clearer in my head and when I wrote whatever it is, I've left out context or didn't word something very well. So I'm hypercritical of areas of ambiguity ... which leads me to overcompensate and bog down my prose with exposition and unnecessary detail. It's a catch-22 lol. That's why it's so reassuring when a comment hits on something that I was intentionally trying to convey without blatantly spelling it out. It's like "Yes! I did it! I did the communication!" lol

💥find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.

So I know I gotta correct this but I don't have anything posted on my Ao3 account and my stuff on fanfic.net are from when I was in high school so I'm not going to drudge them back to life lol. But I guess a general statement I can say about those early fics without details is that they let me process a lot of the isolation and loneliness I felt in those days. I had my self-insert OC and she could be everything I aspired to but fell short of, and of course she was loved by every character I respected. I needed that feeling, even if I had to create it myself. I wasn't really aware that's what I was doing, but looking back it was clear self-soothing. So they are wonderful for giving me a place to take what I needed and not worry about the quality of my writing. I was able to get through some tough times because of them and I'll always remember that.

🧿what steps do you take to not take things personally if a fic doesn't do well, or if your writing/posting/sharing experience isn't going how you'd like it to?

Oh I like this one!! If I fic isn't getting the same interaction I expect for some reason - because we all expect some level of interaction even if we do write for ourselves - is to reread it. This way, I remind myself why I needed to tell this story, what it meant to me, and what I like about it. If I can't remember those things, then maybe it genuinely wasn't ready to be published and maybe I should work on it more. But usually I can remember and once I do, I'll reread again but with my "editor's" cap like I'm reading a submission for work - that way I can find objective reasons it's not everyone's cup of tea - tone, subject, diction, characterization, etc. - that are understandable, rather than the subjective feeling of just not being good enough so I can shrug and move on. If the disappointment is persistent, I get a snack and tell my support people IRL (who haven't and will never read my writing but know I do write) that I had a disappointing reaction and just wanted to vent that to them so they can validate me without giving more suggestions. My best friend sent over her middle school poetry once to make me feel better lol.

Sorry these got long, but you picked the in-depth questions, so in-depth answers you get!

#thanks for the ask!#i love talking about writing like this #it really emphasizes the community/workshop nature of fanfic circles #rather than holding up masterlists as a popularity contest

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atlanticcanada · 1 year

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Sobeys admits to data breach in fall 2022, alerts customers

It was a cyber-security incident that made headlines across the country late last year. Although the company involved waited until now to confirm it.

The Maritime-based Empire Co. – parent company of Sobeys, acknowledges customers and employees past and present are receiving letters saying their personal information may have been compromised.

Bill Zebedee received his letter in the mailbox late last week from Medical Health Care Services Inc. (MHCSI). It is a company provides group benefits plans and works with pharmacies, including Sobeys and Lawtons.

Zebedee said when he first read the letter he was confused. “I was very surprised because I never heard of the company. I contacted them to confirm it was real,” he said.

The letters inform recipients that an unnamed third party gained access to Sobeys servers Nov. 1, 2022.

Experts say more letters may be sent out.

“This is one particular sub-company within the overall Empire Co. group of companies who may be affected so we may see different kinds of these letters arriving,” said cyber security expert, David Shipley.

The company was heavily criticized for its lengthy silence on the issue for weeks. Business professor Ed McHugh said, the letters come as no surprise.

“This breach was large when it happened because they couldn’t accept gift cards at Sobeys for a while and Lawtons [also] had some issues, so we knew the breach was significant and Sobeys had been very quiet about this matter," adds McHugh.

In an email to CTV News, Sobeys said, “With the help of external experts, we have investigated how an authorized third party gained access to some of our servers and systems. The process to identify what data has been impacted has been extremely complex, and we’ve now reached a point where we can notify those were potentially impacted.”

The retail giant also said, “We have seen no evidence that personal data was accessed or removed from our servers; however, out of an abundance of caution, we have sent notifications to those who could have been potentially impacted and in compliance with our regulatory obligations” adding, “IT security is and has always been a priority for us. Trust and transparency matter deeply and we regret that this event occurred.”

While the letter shares how the information could potentially be used by hackers, Shipley said clearer communication should have been provided much sooner.

“They should have had a media release in an actual press conference and say we’ve started the process of notifying people, so that way we could have had some understanding of who was going to get what notification so people could actually trust them,” he said.

Sobeys has not been alone in dealing with cyber security issues. In recent years, hackers have targeted various businesses and organizations. McHugh said in this case, it is best to be cautious. “Be very vigilant in phone calls and emails and if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.”

As for now, it’s unclear how many letters have been sent out, however, we have learned employees are being offered a one-year subscription to a credit monitoring service. Letters also urge recipients to keep an eye out for possible phishing attempts and avoiding clicking links or downloading attachments from suspicious emails.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/xp1BgRM

#new brunswick #prince edward island #nova scotia #news #politics #canada #CTVAtlantic

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alexcaldownapier · 2 years

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Film Adaptaion - Past few weeks (6, 7 & 8)

There’s bin some scriptin’, there’s bin some castin’ and by golly, there’s bin some extra-curriculars.

Scriptin’

We had a wee chat, our group. We had a wee chat and we said this is the story we’re telling: Kayleigh’s attempts at changing herself for others leaves her unable to discern her self from her performance. We came up with the ending together, changing the previous one where the file of the original avatar file had become corrupted so she couldn’t use it anymore. Instead, we went for a stranger, more emotional, more abstract ending. We still have her changing and changing her body in a dark void, but then she opens the original avatar file and it loads up. The “real” kayleigh then enters the scene and looks at her avatar but it seems so different from her that she ends up leaving it all alone in the game and she quits, choosing not to perform anymore.

This was all fine and dandy, we talked it through which gave me a better frame of reference for moving forward with the drafts. I also worked in the advice from Kate in her lecture and tutorial, complicating the themes slightly and making her character arc clearer. The draft was sent in. Then came the tutorial with Joe and Demelza. I found this a confusing experience, pulled in two different directions. Joe wanted a more explicit narrative and character arc whereas Demelza (I think) liked the more subtle tone, but felt something was definitely missing in terms of beats. I found this quite hard, getting my head round these notes as they were going in two different directions and there was a lot of “this would work better”, an alternative story rather than a development of the one we had. Kate’s notes then combined both of these directions and sorted my anxieties. She gave me some good advice as well about how to take notes on board - read between the lines. It’s not exactly what someone says, it’s what they flag up. Joe’s desire for a voice-over for example, which was something we weren’t too hot on as a group, was driven by a lack of clarity in the characterisation. So, armed with the new notes and feedback, I went for another dip. I’m quite happy with the final submission - not totally happy. But here’s what I changed anyways. I added in a couple lines that solidified Kayleigh’s motivation - she wants friends she can play with in the metaverse. Wanting friends in general was a little vague and I guess, hard to convey, so added that in. This then helped with the second conversation, making the conflict make more sense, he may be not as mean as credence but he is still rejecting her persona. These were the main changes, but I did choose to stick with the ending we had, despite Kate finding it confusing. I think the ending works as it keeps the conflict/resolution focused on Kayleigh and her relationship with herself. By her confronting the representation of herself, she’s able to see how these performances have eroded her sense of self and caused her to be unable to differentiate between a “truthful” representation and a performance. I also wanted it to be an eerie visual experience that makes the audience quite uncomfortable. I think that’s the thing I’m most happy with in this script - the visual storytelling. I think I’ve managed to get a lot across without pushing the info too hard. I may only think this because I understand what I’m trying to say, and maybe the audience will be entirely lost or not get anything from it. But hey, who knows. I guess I’ll find out when I get my grade back. I think the group’s happy with it? Excited to move forward anyway.

Castin’

Speaking of moving forward, we’ve got a cast! I put out a casting call on a bunch of facebook groups and got a landslide of replies - I’m not putting my personal email anywhere public again. At the end of our casting period, we had 11 tapes so we had a nice selection to choose from - most all of them were pretty good and the people we ended up choosing I think will be excellent. Very happy with the cast.

The kits been booked out nice and early by Natalia - I think it was a good decision to just decide on a set of shoot dates to kind of push us to get everything sorted. Natalia’s trying to get some locations sorted for that weekend so we can let the actors know which days they’ll be shooting to ensure availability. Peer and Rowen are starting the shot list/storyboard and we’ve also started looking at Tom’s room and thinking how to dress it as Kayleigh’s room. We’re moving forward quite well, I think. Very happy with the gang.

Extra Curriculars

I was helping out on a grad shoot - Between Us. Lots of fun, but maybe biting off more than I can chew - between uni and work and three days on set, I was a lil stressed. Loved to see a larger set working with everyone on their shit. I learned a lot - they even took on my ideas for how to light the last shot! rigged it all up for them, was very happy. I started off helping Peer with the sound, booming. But then the other Alex, a sound design student, arrived on the second day to help out so took over on boom while I went over to camera. Really great to see the way they worked - it’s really reignited my cinematography love.

It was a great experience and helped me see the importance of set design (as the production designers were really elevating the spaces we were shooting in) the group dynamic (as everyone worked well together to get the footage they needed) and getting good actors (they really helped the script to work well). All things I want to make sure we get right on our shoot. As I said, we’ve been looking at Tom’s room and we’ve made a plan on how to dress it. We’re also getting along well, all talking regularly about the progress and creative ideas. And, call me optimistic, but these actors seem pretty great.

Feeling good, looking forward to the shoot.

#film adaptation

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stuckinapatriarchalbullshitland · 3 years

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🙂 - ɟ

Hiii babies and dear Anons 👋🏼🤗 Here’s another post with the answers to the asks Mari sent me. Enjoy 🙃

Hi @sawwyouuinadream 👋🏼😄 I’ve already talked about how C exaggerated for the sake of the songs in my ‘💭- ɟ’ post (8th question) [click on the #f anon of this post to see all my others]. As for the rest, you need to understand the difference between our normal life and theirs, especially when they were in the group. You can’t compare your life and what you would do with your girlfriend in their place simply because they’re completely different things. Any parent of famous artists who gets the chance to spend time with their child when they can, seizes the opportunity. I saw it with 5H, I saw it and keep seeing it with Ari, I saw it in Taylor’s documentary, and many others. But not all artists have this luck.

5H were far from home, always around the world, without parents most of the time, and with fans who recognized them. Unlike the other parents who didn’t always have the opportunity to be with them because of work, the most present were Sinu, papa H (Jerry, Ally’s dad), and mama Dre (Andrea, Normani’s mom; as much as Sinu and continued as Sinu even after the hiatus). The only difference is that Camila suffers from depression and variants of OCD (diagnosed in 2015) and for these reasons, Sinu has always tried to be as present as possible. She only became a regular presence after C’s explosion in early September 2016. And, honestly? I don’t know where Camila would be without her mom. I don’t think she could have gotten through most of the things. I don’t think she would be in the industry anymore.

Now, I’d like to remind you of something else: we only see 5/10% of their lives. And that 5/10%, is ONLY what they want to show. You said that Sinu always accompanied C on dates? That’s not true. We saw Sinu with them a couple of times when they went shopping, once for dinner at Katsuya’s, and once at the beach in Australia. And these are literally only five times in what, four years that C was in 5H? Do you really think those were their only dates? Or that those can even be called dates and not just spending time with the mother-in-law? Come on. Try to look at it differently. Try to look at it from a broader perspective. Try to look at the big picture.

I send you a hug 🤗

No, dear Anon. Lauren was together with Camila. That whole conversation was based on Camila teasing Lauren. That episode was another confirmation for me regarding their first kiss. Lauren answering “Kind of” because Camila literally nearly passed out from nervousness is one of the things that amuses me the most.

Oh and, dear Anon? Bread Simplified, aka I don’t know what lips are, was just another one of her PRs. I don’t know how this is still something to doubt about. 75/80% of all Hollywood couples are fake, and as I said earlier, we only see 5/10% of what they want to show us about their lives. I’ve said this before and will write it again: “Any PR relationship involving Camren is simply this: fake, and for publicity and narrative purposes”. Real relationships, dear Anon, are not public ones. They’re the ones we don’t see.

I’m still a little bit confused about your ask actually if I have to be honest, dear Anon. I’ll answer based on what I understood.

None of the five of them are with Syco Music anymore because it has integrated with Sony Music Entertainment and therefore doesn’t exist anymore.

Only Camila and Lauren are with Syco Entertainment simply because only the two of them were asked to sign. Simon never cared about the group per se. He wanted Lauren and Camila from the start and he got them. He created an opportunity to prepare them for that world and for their eventual solo careers. How? By creating 5H. By creating three products (C, L, and 5H) at once that would make him money.

Because, dear Anon, as twisted as it sounds, it’s part of their publicity. I’ll explain myself better. Camren sells. From the beginning. A large part of the 5H fans became their fans BECAUSE of Camren. The labels still use them when needed. For labels, it’s okay to get people talking. It’s okay to get them to speculate, take their name out there, create buzz, create gossip, everything’s okay, EXCEPT confirming it. The important thing is the publicity. The important thing is to sell what they want to sell, and many times, they use Camren to do it. And it works. It works EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. Plus, I think both C&L also had fun doing it to “keep the boat afloat”. More in the past than now tho.

I know about the rest of the pictures because it was said a while back by a guy who said he was yet another ‘insider’, dear Anon. This guy even published an email that was supposed to be from 2017 from TMZ to Roger in which they were supposed to have a meeting to discuss the extension of the agreement made not to publish the dossier. It’s actually old news, and it indeed seems strange to me that you’re only finding out now 🙃 Has anyone ever talked about it here on Tumblr?

But anyway. That he was an insider, I have my serious doubts. That the email picture was specially created, perhaps by him himself, I’m sure of it because it looks more fake than a plastic flower. That TMZ actually has a dossier on them, is very likely because this is another one of the many ways paparazzi agencies make money.

Dear Anon, I guess this ask of yours is due to your reading of my last post. If you’ve read it, then you have also read the sentence that I will now copy: “Everyone’s ready to point the finger when they don’t even know what is really going on behind the scenes”. You’re doing the same thing. You’re doing the same thing because all I see here is Roger did this and Roger did that, but you don’t know that. You don’t know why he did certain things. You don’t know why he didn’t do certain things. You don’t know why he handled some things in one way and some things in another. You know nothing, yet you’re pointing the finger.

I understand that you’re speaking based on what you see, believe me, I understand, but you’re judging without knowing. We know this PR is for Skittles, so what do you know if the deals made were exactly for Roger to promote him more? What do you know if the deals made were exactly for Roger to do or not do certain things? And more importantly, what do you know that Roger no longer has Camila’s best interests at heart? Just because of this show? Come on!

I’ll try to be clearer this time because I’ve noticed that many, like you, didn’t get the big picture of my last post. The labels decide everything. Camila can choose certain things, propose ideas, and be more liberally creative, but she doesn’t have the last word. If Camila comes up with the idea for a video she wants to make, but the labels don’t like it, then she can’t make that video. If Camila wants to perform a song in a certain way, but the labels don’t approve of a thing, then Camila has to change that thing in order to perform it. If the labels say no, then it’s no. Periodt.

Camila accepted the PR. COVID has changed things. She couldn’t expect such a thing. Hell, none of us could have expected a worldwide pandemic. But things turned out this way, and now she’s miserable. The choice she had initially made has backfired on her, and there’s nothing she can do to change that because it’s a legally binding contract. Neither she nor Roger, whom I remind you is also an attorney, can do anything about it.

I made this little scene for you. I hope that with this, you’ll see things a little more clearly.

*During the meeting*

“And that’s the idea” Roger says as Simon continues to look at the various set designs and documents by nodding

“So.. what do you think?” Camila asks anxiously and with a small hopeful smile

“I think we only need to change a couple of things, but for the rest, everything’s fine” Simon replies

“Really?” Camila asks excitedly

“Yes, really” Simon replies with a chuckle due to her enthusiasm “Good job, Camilla”

“Yay!” Camila cheers towards Roger. She’s too happy to care about the cringe due to the mispronunciation of her name. She’s used to hearing him call her that for years now.

“What are the changes you were referring to?” Roger asks him

“Oh, you know, this and this” Simon replies, turning the set designs towards them “It’s a little too…” “Gay?” Camila asks with a laugh, finishing his sentence

“We knew, but she wanted to try anyway” Roger says, indicating Camila with his palm “So, by changing those two things, we’re ready to go? We’re gonna shoot the video in a week”

“Yes, I approve. Everything’s all right” Simon says, handing the set designs back

“Thanks, Simon” Camila says, getting up together with Roger ready to leave the room

“Oh and, Camilla? Remember what we talked about” Simon tells her as soon as she gets to the door

“But-” “Remember what we agreed on” Simon says, interrupting her

With a sigh, Camila nods and turns to look at Roger who smiles at her sympathetically. With another sigh, this time of acceptance and determination, Camila positions herself behind Roger, who’s bending his knees to get down and is bringing his torso forward.

“Um.. what exactly are you two doing?” Simon asks, confused and curious at the same time

“When you tell me to jump, I ask you ‘how high?’, right?” Camila answers him as she climbs on Roger’s back

Simon nods with an even more puzzled expression.

“I’m helping her jump from higher” Roger explains to him

*the end*

This is just a silly example, but I hope it helped you understand the dynamics better. I also copied and pasted another piece of my previous post as a reminder: “If Roger does certain things that you may not like at first glance, before accusing him, please wait. Wait till you see why he’s doing what he’s doing, and then if you really don’t like it, then point the finger. But if you have to do it for no good reason, then don’t. You’d only going to look worse after. Same thing for Camila. They have a reason for doing what they do, so just wait before speaking and judging.”

Have a great day too, dear 😊

I don’t think you’re gonna like my analysis, dear Anon, but you asked for it, so here it is.

I’d like to start by saying that Thinkin’ Bout One is a half-demo. It’s not a completed song and it’s from ‘The Hurting. The Healing. The Loving.’ era, so even before the album title changed to ‘Camila’. I’m talking about the very beginning. When Havana wasn’t even remotely ready to be complete, or recorded if that’s why. When I Have Questions had just been recorded or was about to be recorded. I’m talking about the end of 2016.

The demo is pretty messed up because there is no intro, verses, pre-chorus, chorus, etc., like in a normal song. The quality and the way the demo is structured reminds me a lot of the GarageBand Camila times. To be honest, I think that’s how it was recorded. I think Camila created the demo on her own and then she abandoned it once she started recording other songs that would adapt and fit in the true direction of the album.

The reason I said I don’t think you’re gonna like my analysis is because this song, it’s not about Lauren. I have reason to think this song is for someone else, but without dwelling on that, I’ll explain why in my opinion it’s not about Lauren through my interpretation.

“Where you at

Come baby show me where you at

Finally got time off work

Tryina disappear off the map with ya

What’s love gotta do with it

This my vacation time

Bathin suits and tan line

Thirst trap for your timeline”

Camila is asking this somebody where they are. Camila was still working with Lauren in 2016. She knew where Lauren was because she was with her, this somebody wasn’t. She’s asking them to meet and spend those days she had free together. She’s asking them to go together to a place where they could be off the radar. A place with a warm climate. And she’s not asking them to see it as a romantic getaway, but just as a vacation. Love was the last of her thoughts given what she was going through with Lauren that year.

“Num num num num num

Pass the henny not the rum

I go num num num num num

If I decide to give you sum

Talkin talkin talkin

All this time that we been rockin

Hey”

“Sip a lil this

Sip a little that

Now this ain’t nothin but a fact

I need you come and take control”

This vacation that Camila proposes also included alcohol and other activities, if you know what I mean. I’ll explain the slang she uses here to indicate those two very things.

In case you didn’t know, num is the slang for making out. Henny is the slang for Hennessy, which is a brand of cognac. It’s used a lot together with coke for a simple two-ingredient cocktail, and indeed, Camila specifies that she prefers henny over rum (rum and coke) in her simple two-ingredient cocktail. Sum is the slang for some. Now that you know, I believe you can put the pieces together and better understand the puns she used here.

And that’s all. There’s nothing about Lauren for me. There’s nothing deep about it. Just another distraction. And for me, for my timeline, this event happened during the 7/27 tour break. The break that lasted from July 6 to 26 before starting the North American part.

Hello to you too dear Anon 😄 No, I personally don’t think those scenes represent her experiences exactly as they happened. I think she and Dave (Meyers) represented her experience in a cinematic and straight way, but with symbols that represented Lauren.

For example, the fact that Dylan plays the piano is to represent an artist, aka music, aka Lauren. The flower on the back of his shirt in the kiss scene: Lauren. The book’s scene you mentioned? The scene is represented in winter with snow, yet in her memory, they’re both represented dressed in a light way, aka ‘In Miami, where winters are hot’ (Sangria Wine’s verse 2) [or even in L.A. since the winter climate is much more similar to the spring one]. They both like to read, so the book was a perfect clue. Alcohol and fights were represented in a much stronger way than I think they happened in reality because we all know that Lauren is not a violent person. The moon? There’s not even the need to explain it. Oh and, the fact that she’s holding hands with herself at the end of the video is also a representation of what we saw in the Havana music video. The “I do love you. But I love me more” that we saw there. With that scene at the end of the Consequences music video, Camila shows us that she has finally managed to love herself.

So dear Anon, to me, that video is just an artistic representation of how things went. And thanks. I hadn’t watched that video in a long time, but I went to re-watch it for you, so thank you, dear 🥰

🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍

Aaand I’m done 😄 I hope I was helpful in this case too. As always, I’m available for those who have questions, so feel free to ask 😊 Thanks once again to you for asking me and Mari for making this exchange possible 😍

As usual, remember to be kind, to others and to yourself. Be a good example. Be patient. Be safe and take care of yourselves. I send you virtual love and hugs 🤗🤗🤗 I love you, babies. Always with love, F ❤️

___

This was awesome, thanks again F. BTW, the marks on the asks is a small detail I couldn’t erase but you can read them anyway, so sorry bout that.

#submission #f anon #anon #asks #answers #that small story with Simon

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spencersstrawberryjello · 3 years

Text

Inside Scoop (Chapter One)

Chapter One - The Greatest Regret of my Life

Previous Chapter < - > Next Chapter

Chapter Summary: Dahlia Silvers is on her way to work when she makes a horrifying discovery that will change her life... and lead to her getting tangled up with the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of corpse (violent death), police interactions (please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 2417

A/N: Yay new story!! Ok, two quick things I need to mention before we get into it: one, I have absolutely no clue about the roads in DC and I merely listed two ones that I knew were on a corner. And two: I also have no clue where the Washington Post office is, and am not trying to make any claims about the company in any way, it’s just a reputable news place in DC so I wanted to use it for the story (please don’t sue me Jeff Bezos). Ok that’s all - hope you enjoy!! :)

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It was raining.

I knew we were supposed to get a short shower this morning, but I still groaned as I walked out into the disgusting downpour bombarding the streets of DC.

The only positive thing about days like this was the lack of people on the sidewalk. Generally everyone was dashing to the subway before they could get too soaked, but I only lived a few blocks from work. So I elected to walk.

Usually, that was fine. I had my umbrella, and I got into the office in about fifteen minutes, give or take a few. After that I got my writing assignments for that day within ten, and I got to work.

Usually.

The smell hit me first. Initially, I thought it was just rotten fruit, or something similar that someone had thrown out, but the closer I got the more it smelled rancid, impossible to describe.

The next thing I noticed was the bag.

The woman’s purse had been thrown from her hand. Or maybe it had fallen, I had no way of knowing. All I knew was that I saw it sitting on the sidewalk at the mouth of the alleyway I was about to walk past.

One of the greatest regrets of my life was picking up that purse.

Because when I picked it up, I had to turn and see who it belonged to. And that’s when I saw her.

I wasn’t sure how long the blood had been pooled around her body, but it was dried on the concrete. Her head was twisted at an unnatural angle, revealing the deep slash wound across her throat. Her hands were bloodied, and I had no way of knowing if it was her blood or someone else’s. All I knew was that this woman was dead, and there was no way in hell it was due to natural causes.

The combination of the sight in front of me and the smell of decay permeating the air sent a wave of nausea through my body, and my eyes watered as I turned away, vomiting on the sidewalk not far from where the woman laid. I fumbled to pull my phone out of my pocket, my hands shaking as I dialed 911.

“911 what’s your emergency?”

“Someone’s dead. It’s a woman, she - I was on my way to work, and I just found her - holy shit…”

“Ok ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down please, everything will be ok. Can you tell us where you are right now?”

“Yeah, yes,” I forced myself to breathe, stepping out to the edge of the sidewalk in an attempt to read the street sign in front of me. “Right by the corner of 9th and G Street NW. There’s an alley a few feet away from the intersection. She’s…” I turned back to the woman’s body for a moment before forcing my eyes away again. “I don’t know what happened. It looks bad, I -”

“It’s ok ma’am. What is your name?”

“Dahlia. Dahlia Silvers.”

“Ok Dahlia. Is there anyone else with you? Or around you?”

I scanned my surroundings before responding shakily, “No.”

“Is the woman alive?”

“No.” I don’t know of anybody who could survive their throat being slashed.

“Ok. A team is on their way, but I need you to stay calm for me, ok?”

I nodded, despite the fact that she couldn’t see me. “Alright.”

“Good. Can you stay on the scene so that investigators can speak with you when they arrive?”

My first thought was that I was going to be late for work. It’s actually kind of funny, in retrospect, how unimportant that is compared to the discovery I just made. But the thought was still there.

“I think this would be a valid reason to call in sick.” I replied. The woman on the other end of the phone laughed lightly.

“Yes, I think it would. Would you like me to stay on the phone with you until the team arrives?”

“No, I’m just… I’m going to walk away a bit? Is that ok? I can’t… I mean, I’ve seen pictures and videos of stuff like this, but I didn’t think it would be so -”

“As long as you’re nearby, everything should be fine. It’s understandable that you would need to move away from the body.”

“Ok. Ok,” I took in another deep breath, “I’m ok.”

“A team should be there in a couple of minutes.”

The line went dead, and I sunk down against the wall of the building by the alley, far enough away that the smell of death couldn’t follow me. I felt like it was in my clothes, in my hair; for a second I thought I was going to throw up again, and I put my head in my hands, forcing myself to breathe until the investigators arrived on the scene. I had half a mind to realize that it wasn’t raining anymore, but I couldn’t be bothered to figure out where I’d dropped my umbrella. My clothes were sticking to my skin, and everything on my body felt viscerally wrong.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen images of dead people before; I was a young adult, and I liked movies. Obviously I was used to gore. But the stench… nothing could’ve prepared me for that.

I was surprised at the sheer number of people that showed up: I mean, there was a CSI van, which I expected, but a black car pulled up behind them, as well as two city police cars. Immediately, the CSI team got to work, and the rest of the people began piling out of their cars. The first person to take notice of me was one of the police officers, and he immediately made a beeline for where I was sitting on the sidewalk.

“Are you Dahlia Silvers? The woman who called in the body?” He asked. I nodded, and he held out his hand to me, helping me up on unsteady feet.

“Thank you.”

“‘Course. Now, I’d like to ask you a few questions if that’s ok?”

I nodded again, and he began a surprisingly long tirade of questions. Why was I passing by, where was I going, did I walk this street every day, what did I see first, did I touch anything on the scene, did I know the woman, had I seen anyone else - everything I should’ve expected but didn’t even think about in the wake of everything I’d just witnessed.

I answered accordingly: work, work, yes, the purse, the purse, no, no - I mentioned that the vomit was mine, and that I’d picked the purse up with the intent to return it to whoever dropped it. I mentioned that the first thing I picked up on was the smell, and that I had no idea what happened. Only that my day was perfectly normal, and then -

“Excuse me, officer?” A new voice cut into our conversation, a woman. I turned to look at her, noticing the FBI logo on her jacket immediately. “I’d like to speak with Ms. Silvers for a moment, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course Agent,” He nodded, rejoining the larger group that we were standing a bit away from. I knew he was still watching me, but I couldn’t be bothered to worry about my status on this case’s suspect list right now. I was still trying to process the fact that there was a fucking dead body about five feet away from me.

“Dahlia Silvers?” She asked, as if she didn’t already know. I nodded, and she smiled, introducing herself as well.

“I’m Special Agent Prentiss, I’m with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Immediately my brow furrowed with confusion. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Well, we study -”

“No, I’m sorry, I should’ve been clearer: I know what the BAU does. What is the BAU doing here, in DC?”

“We’re investigating a string of recent murders, and we believe that this one is most likely connected to the case.”

“... If there have been enough murders here that your team needed to come down, why aren’t any of the news stations covering it? I haven’t heard anything about this.”

“We’ve put a block on most of the press until we can gain a better understanding of the situation. I understand why you might feel betrayed by the media -”

“It’s not like that at all,” I rushed to correct her, not realizing I’d cut her off again, “I’m a journalist. I work for The Washington Post. Our office is like three blocks away, that’s where I was headed when - when I saw her.”

The woman nodded, a sympathetic expression on her face. “I’m sorry that you had to see all of this.”

“Thank you,” I gave her a small smile. I did appreciate it, but honestly, I’d recovered from the sight pretty quickly. I’d started working in crime journalism recently, and that came with it’s fair share of gruesome images and stories of tragedy flooding my computer. Hence the reason why my lack of knowledge on these murders was a concern. “I’m just confused as to why I didn’t hear about the murders, while working for a news site. It would make sense for a few stories to slip through, or for our CEO to announce something to us writers - how the hell did you manage a full media block?”

She laughed a bit at my bluntness, but said, “We got here very shortly after the first murder. We were able to restrict almost all stories about the event immediately.”

“Almost all? No, you guys got all of them - I have a keyword filter set up on Google to email me whenever a seemingly newsworthy event happens in the surrounding area, and I feel like ‘local murder’ would definitely count as newsworthy.”

“That’s… surprising, but it makes sense. Never underestimate the power of Jennifer Jareau - that’s our press liaison, she handles -”

“Oh yeah, I know her! I’ve spoken with her a few times when you guys have had cases in DC.”

“Right! Yeah, she’s great…” She got a sort of far-off look in her eye for a moment before she cleared her throat, “But that’s not what I’m here to talk to you about. I know that you spoke with the local police already, but I was wondering if you’d be willing to return to the station with us so we could interview you a bit further - you’re not under arrest, you’d be free to go at any time, we just have a couple more questions.”

I was hesitant, but at the same time, there was an itch in the back of my mind. An itch to know more. If this was a chance for me to find out what’s been going on, no way in hell I’m saying no to that.

Plus, if I did say no, that would be incredibly suspicious.

So I nodded, allowing Agent Prentiss to lead me back to the black vehicle that arrived with the slew of police cars. She opened the passenger door for me before shouting to someone who I’m assuming was one of her coworkers.

“Reid! Stay here and investigate the scene - I’m going to escort Ms. Silvers back to the station, and I’ll be back to pick you up.”

I heard a faint response before she shut the passenger door, climbing around to the other side and allowing me a glimpse of whoever she was talking to.

He was standing on the pavement, still looking at the car, nodding as I’m assuming Agent Prentiss said something else to him. The blue sweater he had on over his button up presented an interesting contrast between the pantsuit I’d seen Prentiss wearing, and the ridiculous query of the nature of the BAU’s uniforms crossed my mind before I turned my attention back to the matter at hand.

The matter at hand being, of course, discreetly staring at the man in front of me.

His curly hair rested almost at his shoulders, and I was mesmerized as I watched him speak, one hand flying and the other holding onto a thin wooden cane. Finally, he nodded definitively before turning back to the crime scene, and my eyes snapped to the driver’s side door as I heard Agent Prentiss slide into the seat next to me.

“Oh please, don’t let me interrupt your staring at Dr. Reid,” She held up her hands in mock defense, trying to keep herself from laughing, “I’m merely the driver.”

“Sta - what, I wasn’t staring, I -” I immediately started to defend myself (even if I totally was staring at Dr. Reid), but Agent Prentiss laughed again.

“Relax, Ms. Silvers. I’m only teasing. He is quite a good-looking man, isn’t he? Not my type, but I’m not blind.”

I blushed, acknowledging her statement with a nod as she put the car in drive, pulling away from the curb. As we started down the road, the full weight of the events that just occurred finally hit me.

I found a corpse.

I was on my way to a police station.

I might be the main suspect in an ongoing murder case. I hadn’t actually asked about that yet.

It was almost as if Prentiss had noticed the shift in my mood - honestly, there’s a chance she actually had, she was a profiler - because she broke the silence with a question.

“Ms. Silvers? How are you feeling?” She asked. I just shook my head.

“Please, call me Dahlia. And honestly, I have no idea how I’m feeling. I… well, I’m sure I don’t need to say that nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”

“I’d be surprised to hear you say it had,” She laughed. I laughed a bit too, though I couldn’t ignore the anxiety eating at me.

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t processed it yet,” I said honestly.

“You’ve gone through a lot in the last hour,” She agreed, “And I hate to say it, but you’re going to have to go through a little bit more. We’re here.”

We pulled into the police station, and she put the car in park, hoping out. I followed suit, and we both headed up the walkway to the front doors.

I was practically trembling with nerves, but at the same time, excitement coursed through my veins at what I might learn.

The BAU might’ve put a blockade on the media from the outside, but I was getting the inside scoop.

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namjoonchronicles · 4 years

Text

dissertation | yg

↳ genre fluff, domestic, established relationship

↳ words 3.1k

↳ summary many people doubted your union, how exactly an artist with as much influence as yoongi be a husband to a wife that is still studying.

↳ warning that side of adulthood, lockdown because of pandemic, mentions of anemia

↳ song kodaline ‘saving grace’

It was a thunderstorm that night, when Yoongi laid in bed alone. Face shone by the light on his phone and he was squinting to see the news article clearer. He ran his fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp gently-- a habit he had. He glanced at the time mark on the top right corner of his phone, then to your side of the bed that remained empty. It’s 2:34 AM. Rolling several times over the width of the bed, Yoongi set his foot on the floor and made his way out the opened door where the light from the hall was still on. The ash blue hallway hall, and the wooden floor that creaks under his weight would not guarantee a smooth entry, but his concern was that you might have fallen asleep on the desk, although this was highly unlikely. He just wanted to check.

Took a peek, through the door gap of your study room. Lights on, papers everywhere, whiteboard filled with medical jargons he doesn’t understand. Your laser focused eyes, glasses sliding down your nose, pen in between your lips and typing sounds filled the room. Your purple pencil case unzipped with its contents scattered, next to the coffee mug. And the calculator facing down. Your phone is close by although Yoongi predicts it to be in silent mode. As it had been, since 2010. That’s why you never answer his call the first time. And when you’re in this study mode, an airplane could land in the living room and you wouldn’t even notice. Heck, if he was talking to you in this state, you would look at him blindly and heard absolutely nothing he said. Yoongi knows too well. After the short peek that went unnoticed by you, Yoongi waddled to the kitchen and ran the coffee machine to start.

He scratches his temple while he ensures the machine begins working, then walks to the fridge. Yanks it open to see what is inside. Some old ripen kimchi, newer batch kimchi, some milk and apples. He ran his eyes through several more things and took out two apples. He bought this for your fibre intake. The last visit to the doctor, you were recommended to take more fibres in, as well as iron because you are still anemic. Despite the considerable diet change by Yoongi, the blood count doesn’t project the effort. It was then decided by the nutritionist and doctor, together, that you have to take pills as well as monthly checks while they send your blood result to the lab for thalassemia management, if diagnosed. Yoongi carefully ran the apples under the water, gently. He begins to peel the skin with a knife, and then, wedges them. He places them in the bowl and by then, the coffee has started to pour into the mug he had prepared underneath.

The blue light from the screen is making you pinch the bridge of your nose. Creases begin to form in between your brow as the numbers you obtained from the experiment did not become tally to the theory, suggesting a mechanical error. With the restriction order loosening up, going down to the lab is allowed, but you figured that many other post-graduate students might squabble for a time slot to use the lab.

“Should have calibrated the thing before I started the experiment,” you silently cursed underneath your breath.

Yoongi pushes the door open with his back and reveals a tray, scuffling and making a lot of noise. He set the bowl with apples and switched the cold coffee mug with a new piping hot one. Your whole face lights up.

“Why are you not asleep yet?” you sang. Eyes following him. “How can I sleep, when you’re suffering like this,” he said in a straight voice, almost emotionless, that makes it hard to believe that he was being affectionate. But that’s Yoongi for you. “There were apples in the fridge?” “Don’t lie, we bought them together… If I don’t wedge them out like this, you won’t even eat it,” he nags, “Did you even take the pills for today?” “I did,” you shoved one wedge in your mouth.

“Before or after the coffee?” He was standing next to you and your head was tilting back to see him. “Before,” you chuckled through your nose.

Yoongi turned his attention to your work.

“Is there still a lot to do?” He mutters, kneeling by the table next to your chair. You comfortably circled your arm around his neck from your chair and buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent and nodding as a response to his question. He smells like bedsheets, you thought to yourself. Yoongi’s wedding band shone under the bright light of your study room, and as he is careful not to disturb your work, he couldn’t help but worry about your mental state. He knows just how much stress you could handle and even if you weren’t shy away from an extremely stressful situation, it is the first for this kind of work environment. You told him that the mindset of working from home is entirely different from the ones actually working in the work area. But he always reminds you that, you weren’t working from home, you are at home, working.

“I saw the numbers and I knew that it was tally with the theory we learned in lectures, and have been hammering my head on what went wrong, so I checked on my methods and it was all correct, so it must have been the machine,” you turned to the side to see the laptop, still clinging onto him. Yoongi turns to the side and plants a kiss on your hair, standing up slowly.

“What do we do?” Yoongi leans his hip on the desk and folded his arm, looking down at you who is by now, pouting, helplessly.

“Either I go back to the lab and redo the whole painstakingly slow experiment, or just write the whole report and blame it on the error, and thicken my skin when my doctor screams at me for incompetency to run experiments, and ruin my credibility for the rest of post graduate pharmacy faculty,” you shrugged sadly.

Yoongi pouts too, now.

“Don’t stay up too late,” he gathers your head and sandwiched your face between his hands and kisses the skin between your brows, while your hand slid down his hip then over his butt, before grabbing the butt cheeks, playfully. You watch his back grow smaller and smaller as he gets to the door, leaves a gap between the door and the door frame big enough for an ant to enter, and leaves you to your work. You turned sideways to the word documents you have, and then to the calculations on the board on the far left of the room, and just, let out a massive sigh.

Several times the alarm clock vibrates on the bedside table next to you, and your hand would swiftly grab them to snooze mode, every single time. That eventually stops when the heat from the duvet chases you out and when you realise that it was no longer noon, it was actually almost 3pm. Your head pounds immediately, and even then you were counting the hours you slept to see if it was appropriate. Eversince the lockdown began, your sleep schedules have become even more disorganized. Doctor said looking out the window would help, but walking outside once in a while to get groceries proves to be even more helpful than the former. Yoongi always gets the groceries because he usually cooks. Now that the lockdown has slowly lifted, Yoongi started to go to the company building to resume his work, but you’re stuck at home because the university recommended studying from home.

Apart from having to use the lab now and then, there is no need for you to constantly be at the university. Even the lectures are held online, and assignments are submitted through emails. Group work is discussed through video conferences. But you’re an old school gal who always preferred to have her notes printed so you could scribble over the things you needed to do, and it makes organising tasks a lot easier. Walking into the study room, you saw the printer not where you set them. In fact, it has its own table with rollers on them, the cables are hidden and neatly bound by the computer, ready for use. The overall set up is neat. It made you smile first thing in the day. Because you knew who had done it that way, and you wondered how he made all this--assembling the tiny table and putting rollers on it, so quietly, that you managed to sleep through it.

At the office, Yoongi was just leaving a small meeting room. He has his facemask down covering his chin as he sifted through the papers handed to him by one of his staffs. The staff is standing nearby to wait on his comments. Upon waiting the staff realises that Yoongi had a bandaid on his thumb.

“A minor accident today, nothing to worry about,” Yoongi shrug it off and quickly turned the attention away from him, “...I think it looks pretty good, try to proceed with it first, and show me how it sounds.”

“Through email or Kakao?” “Kakao, because I don’t have the laptop fixed yet and the ones at home are out of discussion,” Yoongi added a chuckle at the end, slapped the staff’s shoulder and excused himself, just when his phone vibrated an incoming message. And a photo, sent by his wife.

“Babe?” - wife

It reads. A photo followed. Of the perfectly set up study station of his wife.

Yoongi smiled and dug his tongue to his cheek, clamping his lower lips between his teeth. He types a reply while leaning to one side of the office wall, by the hallway. Crossing his ankles.

“You’re welcome. Study well~~ Also, we’re having takeouts tonight.” - yoongi

The message chimes in. A jar of cookies in arm, you were nibbling on one java chip cookie while unlocking your phone to read Yoongi’s message. That’s strange. Takeouts?

“But I can cook. And its weekdays.” - wife

”Nonsense. You pulled an all-nighter last night. We are having takeouts. There’s this good new restaurant the staff had been hyping. Think we should go there.” - yoongi

”Okay… whatever you say then. <3 - wife

Yoongi shoves his phone in his back pocket and walks down the hall to his studio. On the way there, he passes by Hoseok who was just leaving.

“Where are you off to?” “Getting lunch, want to go get lunch together?” “Sure.” “Namjoon is joining us too, I’m waiting for his reply.” “Great…you guys decided where?” “There’s a BBQ house I know that sells really good broiled chicken feet.”

Twenty minutes went by since the last text with Yoongi and you had been staring at the calculation on the whiteboard thinking about Krispy Kreme’s premium donuts. You wonder if the outlets are open, as they should be because the lockdown never closed businesses. Yoongi would know, you figured.

“Yeah they are opened, Why?” - yoongi

“I am craving for the ones with the KitKat on, I think my period is coming on soon…” - wife

“We can have that as desserts later no problem, I sent you lunch, and it should be there in 25 minutes. - yoongi

“Yay! What are you having?” - wife

“Broiled chicken feet with Hoseok and Joon.” - yoongi

”That’s not...what you got me… right? - wife

”Of course not, I got you Kimchi jjigae with tofu, and some kimbaps.” - yoongi

Phew. For as long as you’ve gotten married, not once have you doubted that Yoongi wouldn’t understand your palate. But he is quite a prankster sometimes. Even if he is not as savage as your inlaws are, to put strange food in front of your plate, there’s a certain degree of cheekiness of him at stake. You were a bit of a picky eater should it hit you at a specific time of the month. Sometimes you could eat chicken liver with minor problems, sometimes you would vomit at the thought of it. Yoongi had been dealing with the latter, quite a few times now. You have about 3 blister packs of anti-nausea pills at home just to cope with it. Acquaintances and distant relatives would insinuate that you were pregnant, but that isn’t the case. Doctor said it would be difficult to have a baby with your anemia uncontained, and you and Yoongi both would not risk having a child while you were struggling with it.

It is just not worth the while. The risks are too great. Malformed, cleft-lips, premature--the list of risks are endless. Let mommy take care of herself first.

Hoseok drove to the restaurant he was talking about. They got a room to themselves, abiding the social distancing rule with several chairs spread apart. When the food arrives, Yoongi could understand why Hoseok loved the chicken feet. It’s savory down to the bone. He picks the pickled yellow radish with his chopstick and devours it with a mouthful of rice. Hoseok began asking if Yoongi would consider taking his wife here. Namjoon was sitting there answering a call, and had to leave the room so the sound of the grills didn't distract him from the call. Yoongi downed a glass of chinese tea before answering with a groan.

“She doesn’t eat those things. Chicken feet, gizzards, those weird smelling things that don't go away even when you cook it properly…” “Don’t she have that thing, anemic? Anemia, the blood disease?” “Yea, she’s on pills treating that, and I’m also fixing her diet, but she is plunged with work so she takes in more coffee, so that would disrupt the pills function, I heard from the doctor. The woman is a caffeine addict, I don’t think she’ll slow down anytime soon, especially not now.” “I see. She is pretty stubborn…”

Hoseok suddenly burst out laughing, and the reason was, “I remember that one time she went on a full force rant on why you shouldn’t place the picture frame where it was, how did it go though? She went like, why is it on the far left of the light like that…”

Yoongi’s eyes quickly disappeared as his smile grew wider at the memory. He remembers that day so well. You both just moved into the apartment you are living in now and several arguments were brought out as the apartment progresses into a living space and more and more things come in.

“I was the man of the house,” Yoongi pauses and, “So we hang it the way she wanted.”

When Namjoon walked in, Hoseok was full-blown laughing.

“You honestly think I would win against her? She’s a fucking scientist… It’s her world, I’m just living in it, bro.”

Yoongi’s lips pursed as he took another meat into his mouth and chewed, with one knee propped up. The boys continued to talk about their future plans. The games they could watch and eventually, work and where they are heading next. Namjoon was visibly cornered by it all so they were working out balancing work and passion, and it’s usually a difficult thing to do. They were lucky to be loving the job that helps put food on the table. But love can turn to hate so easily. Along the way, one could hate it so much, one could consider leaving it. It would feel like a good choice at the time, but eventually, they will think about longevity, and what makes money. Which is the reality of living.

Yoongi’s whole world is music. And your whole world is science. Both are the opposite side of the same coin. Through the differences, there are many quarrels and conversation shoved under the rug for later days. It is never comprehensible why one would do such a thing, in the perspective of a stranger, but when you are in a relationship, tolerance is as important as communicating, and the two go hand-in-hand with each other. It is only in a relationship that you see someone whose upbringing is so completely different from yours, try to understand the way you were brought up and the values you grew up with, the same way you try to understand theirs. They could be the one who mindlessly folds the doormat messily after they leave the bathroom and doesn’t fix it. Or they could be the one who is passionate about feeding cats but never cleans up after the poos. Or you could be so rigid in your ways of doing things that you simply cannot be flexible.

Or walk the room with their hair dripping wet and leave trails of water droplets around the house. Or leave the dishes in the sink unwashed because it's ‘only one mug’. Or they could use the coffee machine without wiping away the spills that could attract ants. Or have aesthetics that are so different from the ones you like. Maybe they prefer a cupboard with its insides all showing, no doors. Or like to collect designer shoes that cost more than the things you deemed more necessary than that of shoes. Or they might leave their shoes unarranged at the front step and it might drive you crazy how they continuously do this even after countless times, reminded not to.

Or how he is so thoughtful enough to send you the KitKat premium donuts you mentioned just hours ago. Or how he carefully ensured that extra tofu is added in the kimchi jjigae because he knows you love them. Or how he has those printers set up so neatly without you worrying how messy it looks. He had the motion-detecting LED light installed on the balcony so you don’t have to turn on the lights when you want to walk outside. Or how he throws everything away when you say you need to talk. Sure he might fall asleep halfway. Sure he flips the doormats when he leaves the baths. Sure he left his one mug in the sink and went to bed without washing it.

But he also waits 20 minutes for you to get ready because you lost track of time, reading your reports and spotting the error in your datas. And he also smiles when you climbed into the car, with a heaving chest and sparred breaths. And he orders your favourites quite fluently, down to the preferences and drinks. And you might love the way he looks when he is literally just existing. There was no one else that looked so mesmerizing the way he does when he drives. Or when he eats, or when he was thinking, and listening.

At the end of the day, it wasn’t the flipping doormats or the one mug in the sink that became the issue. It was who would still want to hold you even after all these years, in complete darkness and in the brightest day. It was who would still feel you were worth their time, despite having only 24 hours in a day. It is the person you fell asleep thinking of, and woke up looking at.

You keep me strong when I can't carry on

When you lose your feet, fall down to your knees and your heart's about to break I will be your saving grace When your eyes can't see, take my eyes from me When you're lost and losing faith I will be your saving grace

Be my, be my, be my saving grace Won't you be my, be my, be my saving grace

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janiedean · 3 years

Note

anniversary prompt! MCU, Steve Rogers and Tony Stark UNDERSTANDABLY also have class conflict (does not have to be serious but like. So many missed opportunity here)

HELLO ANON HERE WE LANDED LEMME SEE WHAT I CAN DO WITH THIS

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"Rogers, you know you don't have to look that constipated?"

Steve, who knows he must look exactly like that, tries to not roll his eyes as he also tries to not tear away his tie.

His silken shirt feels wrong on him. The tailored trousers and shirt... even worse. He doesn't want to know how much that tie he loathes cost, and he turns to look at Tony who is wearing a similar outfit except most likely even classier and who looks like he was born with it.

He certainly doesn't look constipated.

Of course he doesn't.

Steve also knows that... well. He's hardly the kind of rich person who'd look down on him or his mother back in the day. He knows he gives away in charity as much money as he can fiscally spare every other year. He knows he certainly doesn't hoard it. It's just.

It's just.

"Can't I just hate high society galas where I have to be present for PR but where I don't want to be?" He mutters, taking a sip from his glass. It's crystal. That champagne must be good. The only champagne he ever drank before waking back up in this damned century was in France during the war and it was cheap, and when he was in New York... yeah, champagne. They could barely even look at people sipping it in the restaurant of the Ritz when they passed in front of it back in the day.

"You can," Tony shrugs, "but it won't get you out of having to attend them. And fine, they're boring, but -"

"Whatever," Steve sighs, "I don't think you get it."

"Isn't that what you just said?"

"No," Steve shakes his head. He grimaces as he drinks more of that champagne. Fuck, he misses Bucky, but he couldn't join Sam in Europe this time, and he hates that he sent him off on his own, but - eh. He had to attend this. Fuck. "No, I didn't. I just, I don't belong here. I never did. This is just wrong."

"This?"

"I don't mean the party. I mean - the clothes, the crystal, the goddamned caviar -"

"That's... you know, standard high society gala stuff?"

"Yeah, well." He finishes the drink. "In my day, if I even tried to walk in front of the Ritz while this kinda shit was happening, they'd literally come outside to say whoever was inside shouldn't even see me out of the window. Sorry if this doesn't change anything."

He slams the glass back on the next table. He doesn't know how he doesn't break it. "I need a moment. Please just make something up if they ask where I am," he says, and then stalks out of the room and finds a balcony.

I wish Bucky was here, he thinks, he'd fake this way better than I could.

Bucky isn't here, though.

He isn't.

He wonders, how many kids could pay a decent private school for a year with the money that just one of those suits people wear inside that place cost them? They probably won't even wear them twice.

He feels like throwing up.

He thinks he'll wait a bit before going back in.

"Humor me a second," Tony corners him the next day - they had an Avengers meeting and everyone noticed Steve was still off, of course, and obviously Tony also did, and for a moment Steve wishes Bruce had come after him because maybe he would at least get it, but it didn't happen, and -

"Sure," Steve sighs, "I think I know what it is about."

"I mean, you did run off the other day and don't worry, I handled it, but what was that about?"

Yeah. Yeah, he doesn't get it.

"I told you," Steve sighs, "I don't - that's not my place."

"Nonsense," Tony shakes his head, "you were invited -"

"No," Steve interrupts, "that's not it. I've been telling you, and I just - did you miss the part where I told you that in the thirties if my shoes broke I'd fix it putting old newspapers inside because I couldn't spare the money for a new pair? Even second hand?"

At that, Tony stops for a moment, good, at least maybe he's realizing the issue.

"No," he finally says, "but you're not in the thirties and we pay you quite handsomely if I can say so."

"That - doesn't really change that I've been here... a few years and I don't exactly splurge now, do I?" Steve shakes his head. "I wasn't born like... like you, and I'm not saying it as... anything but a fact. You don't forget not having enough money to pay all the bills and having to choose between electricity and heat, Tony." He wonders if he should say it or if it's not worth it, but - but Tony's a friend, more or less, and Howard - Howard sort of got it, back in the day, not as much as Steve would have liked, but sort of, so - so. He can try. "And when I took that trip after the Chitauri, I did go around the country. I wasn't joking."

"Okay, and?"

"And, I've gone through places where people needed three jobs to barely pay rent and all the bills and I could understand where they came from because I had been there, too many of them could barely read and I thought it would have been better since my days but it didn't seem like it, I've ran into people sleeping in their cars because they could afford either that or rent and they chose to keep the car and I used to be like them once, and now I should mingle with people whose clothes cost like... an entire year of their income? I feel guilty. I feel like I shouldn't be there. And I feel like all the money that went into that party could have been better used. And I don't - I mean, it doesn't mean that I think you are bad for having the money because you're nowhere near that kind of stuck-up, but that's your floor. Not mine. Is it clearer?"

Tony just stares at him, biting down on his lip, then -

"Clearer, Capsicle, clearer. Go cool off. I got it."

He does sound like at least he's not going to ask any further.

"Good," Steve says, and heads out. He thinks he needs to punch some more sacks of sand through the damned wall. Maybe he will work that stupid party out of his system.

"You know," Tony tells him a week later, cornering him after the latest team debrief, "you never asked what happened at the end of that gala."

"No," Steve says, "because I said I wasn't going to go and then I was kind of forced to and I refused to look at the schedule and I figured I'd make something up. Why?"

"'Course you figured you would," Tony says, "and you aren't even that good at it, Rogers. Anyway, you had to be there because they were offering you some kind of award for your services to the nation. Which also included money."

"Which I don't need."

"I know," Tony sighs, "here."

He hands Steve what looks like a copy of a check.

"I even went through the hassle of printing it because I know you like your paper trail."

Well, yeah. It's a copy of a check. For -

"How much fucking money was that?"

"A lot of it," Tony shrugs, "exactly the amount on that check. Which I said I would cash for you because you suddenly were called on Avengers business, and I did cash it because if we waited for you it'd just stay there for the next ten years, but then I figured you'd rather have that money going there, so."

Well.

"You donated the whole of it to the Nebraska Farmers Union?" He asks, blinking at reading the beneficiary.

Tony shrugs. "Well, they were around when you were around and they seemed like they could benefit from it, and like you'd have approved, so. I mean, I doubt I'll ever get it but I can see why you wouldn't want to mingle. In between us, those galas are a bore."

He laughs, and for the first time since he went there, he doesn't feel like punching another ten sand bags before getting his shit under control.

"Good to know that it's just not me not being adjusted thinking that," he wheezes, and then, "thanks, by the way. I would have given that money to them or some organization like it, so."

"Excellent," Tony replies, "next time you want to skip on that just warn me which other one you'd want to give your prize money to."

"Maybe I will," Steve replies, finding that he means it, and decides that maybe he's not going to punch any sand bag today and he can just go back to the debriefing room and hang out with the others - honestly, he's been punching his way out of this since that damned party, he might as well not for once.

"What," Tony says, "you're finally not looking constipated? Hallelujah, Rogers, finally, we were all wondering if you'd ever come back to the world."

"Shut up and go to all those galas in my place from now on and I won't anymore."

"Guess I can just drag Bruce there and tell him to sass those people for you."

"Deal," Steve says, "but you are getting that organizations list."

"You do have my email," Tony winks at him, and -

Yeah. He does, doesn't he?

He shakes his head and follows him back where the others are.

He absolutely is finding out each single organization like that that survived from his days after. He so is. After all, if he somehow has money now, he can use it the way he wishes he could back in the day, right?

#steve rogers #tony stark #anonymous #ask post #my fic #anon i really hope this is like... anything like what u thought bc i don't know what happened #watch steve give money to every union that survived since the 20s #ten years anniversary promptfest

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927roses-and-stuff · 4 years

Text

Miracles in Gotham: Chapter 3: Unwelcome Discoveries (Part 1)

Hey, guys! This fic is inspired by @ozmav mav’s Maribat AU. Shoutout to @mystery-5-5 for brainstorming ideas with me for this fic.

Midterms have got me acting up. Despite the quarantine, I literally wasn’t motivated to write until the moment I could use writing to procrastinate. Absolutely brilliant logic. Truly. Thank you guys so much for the wait and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

If you want to see more, follow: #miraclesingotham or ask to be added to the tag list.

P.S. For the sake of continuity, I’m going to ignore the Heroes United thing because that episode was basically a fanfic of the fanfic and as much as I loved the animation and the new characters...I’ve seen better plots and explanations for a lot of the similar problems in the Maribat fandom. Also Sparrow is probably a reference to Batman, anyways. Also, canon has just gone out the window...I guess...whoops.

P.P.S. Swearing tw, death tw.

Please remember this is rated M for a reason. Also, it is my headcanon that not everyone who dies during the akuma attacks come back. Of course, it’s not mentioned in a children’s show, but I’ve always seen the Miraculous Cure as a cure for physical, non-living objects as they’re easier to fix, and lives take a lot more effort and energy from the user to revive. And since Marinette is a child, there’s not going to be a lot of energy to spare.

Tag list: @northernbluetongue @spicybelladonna @my-name-is-michell @legendaryneckjudgestudent @lokiifriggasonn @zerotosiki

First Previous Next Fanfic

To the members of the Justice League…

I am writing to you as Chat Noir, superhero of Paris and holder of the Black Cat Miraculous of Destruction, and partner to Ladybug, the official Guardian and the holder of the Ladybug Miraculous of Creation. I come to you with a plea similar to ones that we have sent you a year ago. The magical terrorist, Hawkmoth, is still at large here in Paris, France. If you are not aware of who he is, Hawkmoth is a domestic terrorist in Paris who relies on the power of the Butterfly Miraculous to create a physical and amplified manifestation of a person’s negative emotions, using the victim as a host, using magical butterflies as his form of transmission. These are called akumas. The akuma allows Hakwmoth to essentially get inside the mind of his victims and manipulate and amplify their emotions. We have been fortunate enough to have a failsafe in Ladybug, who can repair any physical damages, and even bring back lives, from these attacks. However, both Ladybug and I have reached our wits’ ends with no lead to Hawkmoth’s true identity. The people of Paris are suffering both from emotional trauma and the physical trauma of being subjugated, manipulated, experiencing bouts of amnesia, and even resurrecting multiple times. Hawkmoth has even taken to exclusively targeting a middle-school class at College Francois-Dupont.

Ladybug and I are aware of the risks superhero presence may bring since we will not survive a fight if any more experienced superheroes such as yourselves are akumatized. However, I feel that we have no other choice. Our Master has recently been put out of commission and the rest of our comrades have had their identities compromised. Ladybug is now the Guardian of the rest of the Miraculous. And although she will not approve of my plea, even your advice or insight will be of use to us.

Please consider our plight and contact us as soon as you can.

Chat Noir

Bruce Wayne was not a perfect man, he will admit. However, he did pride himself on his sense of logic and adaptability to most situations, as long as they stayed within the mortal realms of believability that is. Magic, however, or anything pertaining to the supernatural was out of his forte; in fact, he often liked to pretend it did not exist despite having acquaintances and enemies whose entire lives revolved around it. There was a reason he did not tolerate the prolonged presence of meta-humans in Gotham, after all.

He re-read through the email once, twice, again and again, desperately wishing that it had not been his shift to look through the messages that the Justice League received on a daily basis. Why couldn’t it have been Superman or Wonder Woman? Or better yet, Dr. Fate or Zatanna, never mind the fact that the latter was technically retired. Any of them would’ve made sense of this gibberish that was laid out in front of him.

Initially, he thought it had been a coded message. It made perfect sense, in his opinion. The only concrete fact he could dissect out of this nonsense was the presence of a domestic terrorist and how they were targeting some middle school students for whatever reason. His mind recalled the recent conversation he had with André Bourgeois yesterday. Even he had mentioned a domestic terrorist going after his daughter’s class, which was why he reached out to Bruce, since Bruce would be the most fitted to protect them with his resources, despite Gotham being the crime capital of the world. He nodded to himself; the facts were consistent then. There was a terrorist and middle school students were the targets.

On one of the other screen monitors, he had pulled up records of College Francois Dupont School for a background check using a VPN to connect to French service networks. Both the email from this Chat Noir (Selina would get a kick out of that) and André failed to mention the terrorist’s intentions with these kids. However, looking through the different classes, there had been a special note besides Mme. Bustier’s class that stated:

“High vulnerability to akumas.”

This was where Bruce was once again stumped. Of course, he really couldn’t deny the existence of magic, but accepting that meant accepting that the terrorist used magical butterflies as his form of attack. Bruce wasn’t a qualified psychologist or any sort of specialist, but surely magical butterflies could not give you emotional trauma, mind-control, or even as Chat Noir had implied, a means to murder.

Bruce scanned through Mme. Bustier’s class to look for anything that might be different from other classes. If he recalled correctly, this was the same class that André’s kid was in. He took note of the name, Chloé Bourgeois, and other notable names such as Adrien Agreste (who’s father was a fashion mogul and a model in his own right), Lila Rossi (a diplomat’s daughter), Max Kanté (a genius, and he noted to himself to see if that held true when the class was under his supervision), Marinette Dupain-Cheng (the class president and the designer of a recent rock album according to Jason who had obsessed over the cover for a few weeks before Alfred confiscated it), and Alya Césaire (an aspiring journalist who ran a blog called the Ladyblog).

Okay, he rationalized. While not all of these kids were significant, some, like the Mayor’s own daughter, would be prime targets for a terrorist, so that made some sort of sense in Bruce’s mind.

He sighed again, wishing that he had a cup of coffee or an energy drink with him at the moment. Unfortunately, Tim’s recent addiction meant no one could have it. Bruce scoffed underneath his breath. Alfred had really weird rules when it came to show “family support.” Tim was a grown man who should suffer his own consequences. Alas, no one argues with Alfred lest they risked his wrath.

Bruce hovered over the link under Mlle. Césaire’s file, the Ladyblog. Perhaps it would give him some answers.

As a bright ladybug designed website popped up, Bruce realized he might have been so wrong.

He scrolled through the website thoroughly from the latest posts to the earliest. He noticed a concerning trend where the later blog posts centered more around one of Césaire’s classmates, Lila Rossi, and shaky videos of a red and black spotted figurem and a black cat figure fleeing the scene, or fighting some sort of abomination that Bruce did not even attempt to understand. In one video it was the two heroes against a flock of pigeons, or a gigantic baby, or whatever else. Bruce had half a mind to dismiss the entire blog as based on falsities, however one of the videos caught his eye.

It was a video titled: “Syren: Paris Going Underwater!!”

That was concerning, considering a flooded Paris would’ve featured on international news, not just on an amateur blog by a middle schooler. Fortunately for him, the video quality was clearer, allowing him to watch as the camera recorded the scene of that day.

Bruce jolted awake and snapped to attention when he realized it was being filmed on a rooftop, and that the water levels were still rising as the video progressed. From what the camera captured, there were only a handful of people on each rooftop; not even making up a fifth of the Parisian population in total.

What the fuck?

Then, as the video concluded, gigantic swarms of red and white bugs (ladybugs?) filled the camera’s frame and when it disappeared, everything was back to what he presumed was normal. The video then faded to black, posting statistics that chilled Bruce to the fucking bone.

“Death count: 1.528 million Parisians

Resurrection count: 1.51 million Parisians

Injured count: 10 000 Parisians

Permanent death count: 18 000 Parisians

In honour of the Parisians who were not revived and were injured during the attack, the Ladyblog, offers our condolences, and will help in any way we can online and offline. The akuma victim, as always, will remain anonymous for safety purposes. Links to help organizations and donation funds to the peoples and families affected will be posted below. Additional links will be posted for available online mental health services.”

And, if Chat Noir was to be believed, some people had died multiple times.

After making sure the video was not doctored in any way (though that would be cruel to assume about a kid’s blog), Bruce sent Chat Noir’s email (along with the earlier videos from both heroes and an email from Marinette Dupain-Cheng that he had found) and all of the links he had amassed to his own computer in the Bat Cave before closing all the tabs on the monitors. Swerving around, he stormed to the Batmobile, eyebrows furrowed in solemnity.

Magic or not, whatever terrorist was plaguing Paris had a pretty damn high casualty count, and the only people that were stopping him were this Ladybug and Chat Noir people, who did not seem to be properly equipped (the Ladybug heroine was using a yoyo, for fuck’s sake) to deal with someone of this power. Not to mention, Bruce winced, their mentor was “out of commission” whatever that meant, with their peers being compromised, so they probably had no outside help.

And it seems, Bruce’s features darkened into a scowl, his dear friend André Bourgeois had a lot of explaining to do. Police department has it handled, his ass.

In the meantime, he was going to make damn sure the class under his care would have a relaxing reprieve even if he had to lock up every villain in Arkham Asylum himself.

________________________________________________________________

Dear Diary,

The talk with Chat was a bust. I know he thinks I don’t trust him, but I wish he knew how much I’m trying to, but it’s not as simple as he makes it out to be...right? And of course I trust him with my life, but as the Guardian, I can’t just make impulsive decisions like going to other superheroes, especially when there’s no guarantee they would help us, or can even be trusted in the first place! And I can’t just reveal our identities to each other either. It would put Chat and the rest of the Miraculous at risk. And I really don’t want a repeat of Chat Blanc…

That future will never happen on my watch. I forbid it.

Speaking of other superheroes, I think there might be someone though, who could help us, even a little bit.

Marianne.

She wasn’t a Guardian, but she was a Ladybug user for a while and was really close to Master Fu. She must know something. She’s in London so she might not be available but...

I’ll check up on her today after class! If she has any helpful advice, I’ll be sure to share it with Chat too.

Gotta go!

Bisoux,

Marinette

Scrambling to get ready, Marinette fumbled with her pigtails and shoulder bag simultaneously, trying to make sure that her pigtails were just right. Tikki zoomed around, helping her get ready by shoving stray pens and pencils into her pockets. When they were done, Marinette rushed downstairs, swiping one of the freshly-made quiche along the way. Just before she exited the store, she turned back to give her Maman and Papa a smooch. Hastily, she then left the bakery, the bakery’s bell ringing behind her as she sprinted to school.

It was a mystery for most people, but despite living less than five minutes away from the school, Marinette was always late. Marinette liked to blame her Ladybug duties when Tikki asked, but she knew better. She had the habit of being late since before she knew the Miraculous existed.

To be fair though, Marinette usually slept in because she was exhausted from schoolwork, designing,

and Ladybug duties. Was it her fault that Hawkmoth liked making 3 AM akumas? Was it her fault that coffee- for all the espresso and sugar she dumped into it, and despite all those hipster blogs saying otherwise- did nothing to help her stay awake? Of course not. If anything she was a victim here; a victim of late night akumas and faulty biology.

Fortunately for her (and her quiche), she was actually earlier today than usual. She could see students milling around the courtyard behind the school. Some sat with their friend groups while others huddled to catch up on the homework from the night before.

Unfortunately, one of those groups was Lila and her friends. Lila sat on one of the picnic tables, talking about whatever grand adventure she supposedly went on or whichever famous celebrity she supposedly saved from a rare type of cancer or something while her friends sat around her, captivated with every word. Marinette rolled her eyes. It was too early for this.

She steered away from them towards the other side of the yard, where she could see Alya and Nino cuddling while finishing their homework. She glanced back at Lila, who waved at the couple before going back to whatever story she was regaling to her loving audience. It was probably because Alya and Nino hadn’t seen Lila greet them in the first place, but Marinette couldn’t help feeling a bit happy that they didn’t return her greeting.

“Morning, guys!” She greeted as she approached their table, sitting on the other side.

Alya looked up first. “Hey! You woke up early today,” she teased, giving her shoulder a friendly nudge.

“Heh, guess it’s my lucky day today,” she said. As she sat down, she began eating the quiche she had swiped earlier. “Well, almost, anyway.”

Alya rolled her eyes and smirked. “You live in front of the school. It’s your own damn fault at this point.”

Nino, who had been pouring over a worksheet that was due today, finally looked up. Upon seeing Marinette, he smiled. “Hey, dude. You’re actually early!”

At Marinette’s exasperated groan, both Alya and Nino fell into giggles, Marinette shortly following along.

“Keep that up, and I’m not gonna let you guys eat at my place for lunch,” she teased, wagging a finger at them.

Alya wagged her own finger, engaging in a finger sword fight. “As if your mom would ever let us starve!”

Marinette laughed, as she wrapped her finger around Alya’s and lightly slammed it onto the table, declaring her victory.

“Okay, okay, you got me.” Marinette went back to eating her quiche, devouring it before it got too cold. For once, she was in a pretty good mood.

“Hey, Alya, Nino,”

And of course, she just had to jinx it.

Marinette didn’t even try to join in the conversation to acknowledge Lila’s presence. If Lila wanted to talk to her, she needed to stop lying about everything; and with her supposed “lying disease,” that wasn’t happening anytime soon. She only wished Adrien was here so someone could sympathize with her.

“Oh, hey Lila,” Alya greeted, having gained her hand back and waved. “Ignore Nino here. He forgot about Mendeleiv’s worksheet due today.”

“Oh, I see.” Lila said. “Well, you know, Nino. If you ever need help with science, one of my cousins actually won a Noble Peace Prize for his contributions in molecular chemistry.”

Nino, to his credit, only muttered an “uh huh” before turning the worksheet over and frantically scribbling all over it. Marinette briefly wondered if Nino understood what he was writing down- or if he cared.

Alya perked up. “Wow, that’s amazing Lila! What did your cousin do?”

Lila smiled bashfully, and looked away, waving her hand. “Oh, you know, it was the discovery of some man-made element.” Marinette had to give Lila credit- she knew how to fake her blushes really well. “I’m nowhere near as smart as my cousin, you know? All the scientific words get me so confused!”

Marinette buried her head in her arms. Did she need to be here for this? She could just slip away? Glancing at Lila, who caught her eyes, she decided against it. Like hell she was letting Lila take away her time with her friends.

Alya laughed good-naturedly. “Oh, I understand completely. English is so much more of my forté, you know?”

“Yeah I totally get what you mean.” Lila stopped laughing as her gaze landed on Marinette. Only she seemed to notice the glare she gave her. “Oh, hi, Marinette. Glad to see you’re early today.”

“Yeah,” she deadpanned. “Hi.” With a fake smile, she robotically waved at her.

“Well, anyways I got to go. See you later Alya.” Lila said, waving her fingers before finally walking away. Marinette exhaled. Thank kwami. She may have been less obnoxious today but that was probably because of Alya’s presence.

Speaking of, the said girl turned towards her. “You could be nicer towards her.”

“She almost got me expelled.” Marinette had had this conversation with Alya many times before. At this point, her responses came like clockwork. She contemplated telling Alya’s threat back in Lila’s first day, but she really wasn’t ready for the backlash if Alya accused her of lying.

“Well,” Alya stuttered. “It was because she has an illness that makes her lie uncontrollably.”

Marinette was pretty sure there was no such illness but at this point, Lila had somehow convinced everyone it was an actual illness. That, or no one wanted to point out the obvious lie, including administration. Which would be pretty negligent of the school admin so she hoped not.

“Alya, if it was just an illness that makes her tell lies, pray tell, who put the test answers in my bag and the necklace in my locker?” she asked.

“Maybe, well,” Alya tried coming up with an answer but failed, thereby changing the subjects. “Look, both of you are my friends, and I don’t want to get in between the two of you.”

Marinette sighed. “Yeah, yeah.” She picked up the discarded quiche container and her bag. “I gotta go to class and see if Mme. Bustier needs help.”

Alya frowned. “Marinette, wait.”

“It’s okay, really.” Marinette assured her, before walking away. When she was climbing up the steps to the entrance, she sighed heavily. She didn’t really understand Alya’s logic sometimes. If she knew about Lila’s supposed lying disease, why did she put Lila’s trash on the Ladyblog? If Alya knew Lila’s lies had led to Marinette’s initial expulsion, why still defend her? Marinette shook the thoughts away, not wanting to get into that impeding headache. Lila Rossi was never worth her time.

When she reached the entrance, Lila was leaning against the doors, her arms crossed. Her olive green eyes were glaring right at her.

“Dupain-Cheng.”

“Rossi.”

Lila strutted up to her, getting uncomfortably close to her face. “I told you what would happen if you didn’t play along.”

Marinette stared back, unimpressed. She really had more pressing issues than this weird power play Lila wanted to play. Leaning back and stepping to the side, she said, “I already told you I’m not scared of you, Lila.”

Marinette didn’t spare her another glance. In some ways, she pitied Lila. What kind of life did you have that you were so desperate for attention you lied about everything, and tried to get rid of anyone else who called you out?

She really hoped Alya would soon see sense. Adrien had once told her to take the high road, and honestly? Sometimes, it felt good to not let Lila’s lies get under her skin.

Then again, when did Lila ever go down so simply?

#miraclesingotham #maribat #its so long itll be two parts #rip #tw:death #tw: swearing #it was rated m for a reason guys #daminette #not there yet tho #mlb season 3 spoilers #maribat fanfic #mlb x dc #ml x dc

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tfw-no-tennis · 3 years

Text

the animorphs continues, david trilogy style

here we are...we finally arrived....the david triology

I did remember a good amount of these books from when I read these when I was like 11. but I also forgot a lot an hooooly shit

WHERE TF DO I EVEN START. so that shit slapped obvs. it really felt like the series has been leading up to this - all the characters have had to make really difficult no-correct-answers decisions, and it leads up to this - the ultimate shitty situation with absolutely no good, clear solutions, and everyone gets to contribute to the awful conclusion!

one thing that really stood out to me is that with David's inclusion as this kind of ‘outsider’ within the group, even though none of it was from his POV, we still get a huge sense of the animorphs being an extremely well-oiled team, who all know and trust each other very well - especially w/Jake as the leader - Jake has to make a lot of decisions in these books but the other animorphs always listen to him

this all probably didn’t help David, who was already thrown into a completely crazy situation, and who now has to deal w/this group of kid superheroes who work very well together. it also doesn't help that David doesn't really try to find his place on the team

anyways I love how much wild shit happens in animorphs always. like they try to steal the blue box as birds and then David chases them off w/a bb gun? and then they end up in this huge alien showdown with visser 3 and his troops in David's house? batshit

also the hilariously 90s part w/the email...lmao. like its the 90s so there's no way to shut off the automatic email remotely, they HAVE to go to David's computer, and they also can just unplug it...lmao they should've just taken out the phone lines tbh

also I completely forgot about the whole plot w/the world leaders meeting and the yeerks and stuff. that really served to ramp up the tension and also make it obvious that David was an outsider as he consistently fucked things up then played it off

also KAA did a masterful job of making David juuuust a little sympathetic in book 20, but still Off enough that you're like ehhhh I don't know about this guy...then he goes full awful creep and it becomes obvious that there’s no way they’ll be able to let him stick around in any capacity

the bit where David kills the crow for no reason is the first Real indication that this is gonna go seriously wrong. but even before all that, his conversations w/Marco gave me like, school shooter vibes

these books are full of some REALLY good tension. the whole end of book 21 was so tense - they've been gearing up for this mission for days now, and they’ve had to do some crazy stuff to get where they are, so the realization that it’s all a trap is completely chilling

and then when David tried to betray them to visser three...the gravity of that decision is unmistakable, because then the yeerks would find out that the animorphs are (mostly) human children, and they’d even know who they are, and that would be the end

I loved the part where David tries to act like he was just setting up an ambush w/his betrayal to the visser, and Jake immediately has everyone play along - and they do. earlier in the series someone - probably Rachel or Marco - likely would have ignored Jake bc of how slimy David was acting, but they've basically become a highly efficient military squad at this point, and it was a perfect slow slide into that over the last 20 books, and now is the time when the reader kinda realizes this (at least for me)

even if they don’t agree w/Jake and think they should just address the David problem right then and there, they all trust Jake as their leader to make that decision

also the fact that these are the first books to do the ‘to be continued’ thing rather than wrapping the plot up...it really made it feel all the more tense

in other books I normally look at the page count and go ‘ok so this conflict will be solved in this scene cause there are only 15 pages left’ (which is st I do a lot I now realize lmaooo I can pretty much gauge what’ll happen based on how many pages are left - and I do this when I read fanfic too, by looking at where the scroll bar is...anyways)

BUT w/these books its totally up in the air cause they can end anytime and just get continued next book, which makes it so much more tense imo

also I fucking loooove the part in book 21 where they’re hiding out with that little pool of yeerks - and I actually bookmarked some pages for these liveblogs, so I have quotes, this one from Jake -

‘There was something wrong about killing defenseless slugs. I was pretty sure about that.’

Oh, Jake, that opinion is gonna change someday....

it is a little ironic considering he jacuzzi’d those yeerks in like book 7 or w/e. but alas its still a fantastic line that serves to show in the end how much things have changed

also I love that the decision not to kill those defenseless yeerks end up helping them later - the yeerks check the pool bc they’re so certain that if the andalite bandits HAD snuck in, they surely would have killed the helpless yeerks. but they didn’t, so that means the andalite bandits didn't sneak in....

I like when the characters do a morally good thing and are then rewarded by the narrative for it - it’s pretty rare in this series, where there are usually NO morally correct choices (such is life) or they’re actively punished for making a ‘good’ decision (one could argue that the decision to make David an animorph instead of letting him become a controller was a morally good decision, but it had dire consequences).

Ok and the part I have to talk about w/these books of course - everything w/Rachel. bc damn Rachel really goes through it in this trilogy. I absolutely LOVE the character development she gets, and I especially enjoyed the way her and Jake's relationship was developed

anyways, one of the best and most fucked up quotes of the series, from Jake’s POV in book 21 -

<Ax? I think Tobias is dead,> I said. <I think David killed him.> <That would be a most terrible thing,> Ax said. <Yeah. Get Rachel. If David’s killed Tobias, we may have to do a terrible thing, too. Get Rachel.>

AUGHHHHH fucking chills I swear. also eternal love for them saying dead/killed/etc and never shying away from it. it really wouldn't have the same impact if they used the normal kid-safe PG words

but yeah Jake asking for Rachel when he thinks that they may have to hunt down and kill David? phewwww.

and the significance of this is never downplayed. this essentially confirms that Jake sees Rachel as the one who is willing and able to do the dirty work - and specifically in this case, it’s also likely bc it was Tobias who was ‘killed’ and he knows how Rachel feels about Tobias

but like, that’s so fucked up, I love it. they give this situation the exact amount of weight it requires - ch1 of book 22 has this part from Rachel -

‘If David had hurt Tobias, I would... But what was the point in making threats? I didn't need to make threats. I knew what I would do. So did Jake. That’s why he’d sent Ax for me.’

at first, it seems like Rachel is on the same page as Jake, but when it becomes clearer later that Jake sent Ax specifically to get Rachel bc she could do the terrible thing that had to be done - instead of just bc they needed reinforcements and she was closest - then things change

but even when Rachel gets rightfully upset later over this, you get the sense she still never really sees any option other than to kill David. it’s not even the ‘killing David’ part that upsets her, it’s that Jake, her cousin, immediately thinks of her as the person to do the deed

so, another fantastic quote from Rachel -

‘Tobias was dead. Jake might still die. And I was going to have to go after David. I was going to have to hunt him down. I was going to hunt him down and destroy him. No, not destroy. That was a weasel word. It was vague, meaningless. I was going to kill him.’

fucking WOW. like really. that bit right there is just perfect quintessential dark animorphs. it just subverts the classic kid-friendly phrasing, using words like ‘hunt down’ and ‘destroy’ instead of kill. But Rachel says it like it is. she’s not going to destroy David, she’s going to kill him.

But then a few pages later, after Ax tells her the quote where Jake asks for her specifically -

‘It definitely made me feel strange. Jake had called for me specifically. Because he wanted someone who would do precisely what I was planning to do. Like I say, I’m not big on feelings, but something about that felt wrong.’

I say it a lot but wow do these kids need So Much Therapy. these are like...8th graders. jesus christ. when I was in 8th grade I was busy planning sims-playing get-togethers w/my fellow 13 year old friends. christ animorphs

and fuck, the part where Rachel threatens David’s family, and shoves a fork in his ear? jesus. and the fact that Jake knew that Rachel was going to threaten David and let her go do it...

and then afterwards, Rachel says -

‘I felt...not exactly ashamed. But I knew I never wanted to talk to Cassie about what I’d just told David. Or Tobias. Or even Marco.’

I'm gonna make some leaps here but I think it’s really interesting that Rachel even mentions Marco here, and says ‘or even Marco.’ like, the ‘even’ seems to imply that Marco would otherwise be somebody she WOULD talk to about something like this.

which...kinda tracks, tbh. Marco is Mr Ruthless, he’s a cold, pragmatic strategist when he isn’t cracking jokes as a coping mechanism. it makes sense that Rachel would talk to him about things like this - he would make jokes, but he’d also understand

I'm just so interested in all the highly varying dynamics that exist within the group okay

and then right after Rachel says -

‘But I swear at that moment I hated Jake far more than I did David. I should have told them all what had happened. But Jake already knew, didn’t he? Jake, the smart, determined leader, already knew all about me.’

that's fucking daaark okay. It paints this picture of Jake having become this master manipulator who knows all about Rachel’s violent tendencies and is using them to his full strategic advantage

Oh my god okay and then all the stuff w/Saddler, christ. I had completely forgotten about that plotline but there was so much fucked up stuff there, too

and the scene where Rachel gives some good life advice to her little sister, and it’s a good bit to remind the reader and characters of the world outside of animorphs conflict...and then David speaks up.

that was such brutal mood whiplash, when you realize that David is morphed and hidden in Rachels room somewhere...fucking chilling

that whole scene just oozes disgusting creepiness. David’s fixation on Rachel specifically, and his rage at being ‘bested’ by her, really feels like misogyny to me. while David butted heads w/Marco, you never got the same sense of anger and disgust that he displays towards Rachel.

and the line where he says ‘hey, enjoy your shower’ made me shudder in disgust. christ. there are a lot of revolting, dark implications there.

also, book 22 obviously does a ton of fantastic character work for Rachel, but it does the same for Jake, too. and Cassie, but ill get to that later

we get to see so much of Jake as a leader and a strategist here, and pitting him and Rachel against each other (so to speak) makes for some excellent characterization, like when Rachel starts questioning why he asked for her -

“I thought David had killed Tobias. I thought he might kill me. I wanted...firepower.” “I see. You wanted me for my morphs.” It was a good answer. It could have almost been true.

and then we get a brief pit stop at the children's hospital where the fucked up parade continues - David morphed Saddler, Rachel and Jake’s injured/dying young cousin, and is pretending to be him, miraculously recovered from his accident

and meanwhile he DUMPED THE REAL SADDLER’S BODY DOWN AN ELEVATOR SHAFT. I literally cant, what the FUCK.

and they never really follow up on it but the whole family and all the Drs think its this miraculous recovery against all odds, but then obviously David disappears and therefore so does Saddler - do they ever find his real body? how completely fucked up that must have been - so much worse than if saddler had just died from his injuries - the miraculous recovery completely overturned by a bunch of stuff that doesn’t even make sense to anybody except Jake and Rachel....

anyways, after all that completely fucked up bullshit, we have the Jake and Rachel confrontation, Jake’s whole speech about Rachel is amazing, but here are my highlights -

“I think you’re the bravest member of the group. I think in a bad fight I’d rather have you with me than anyone else. But yeah, Rachel, I think there’s something pretty dark down inside you. I think you’re the only one of us who would be disappointed if all this ended tomorrow.”

I mean, christ. imagine your fellow 13 year old cousin saying this to you. oh MAN. and I love so much that Jake isn’t wrong, but he also is? he understands what Rachel will do, but not why she’s doing it. and I talked abt it before but Rachel has found herself in this box of ‘the brave/reckless blood knight,’ and feels pressure to live up to that reputation.

so how much of it is a façade that she puts on bc she’s expected to, and how much of it is how she really feels? well, she got that reputation initially for a reason, but she gets pushed more and more in that direction as the series progresses, both bc of the unintentional pressure to live up to her role as the Xena of the group, and bc it’s really, really useful to have somebody like Rachel on your side

Then Rachel says -

‘I tried to look at myself the way Jake saw me. Was it true? Did I love this war?’

I'm gonna lose it, these poor fucking middle schoolers. Rachel, listen, you’re 13, you’re a child soldier, of course you don't love the war you’re fighting...I need every child therapist on the block to come here right now

like jesus being 13 is hard enough without all this nonsense. it’s such a tenuous time in development, and add something like this - someone like Rachel, who is somewhat pigeonholed by society as ‘vapid, pretty blonde who loves to shop’ would of course flourish in an environment where she gets to show how much of a 3-dimensional Person she is - she can love shopping and also kick ass! nice! but also, like, trauma.

So then Rachel says this about Jake -

“Jake, you’re a leader now. You make life-and-death decisions. All the time. You’ve learned to do that. And,” I added bitterly, “you’ve learned to use people. You use them for their strengths and their weaknesses.”

Fucking read, wow. I feel like Rachel is absolutely correct here, if not simplifying things a lot. like, yes, Jake does make these unfathomable decisions on the regular, but he’s got tons of conflict over every single thing he does, and there was a lot of uncertainty and trial-and-error leading up to this. but she is correct that he’s learned, and is clearly a lot more comfortable in his role as a military leader now.

I just love the contrast these two have. Rachel, with the burden she carries as the bravest - the fighter of the team, who must be relied on in battle and to do the things that nobody else will do - and Jake, the leader, who has to make decisions knowing that he could get his friends killed at any time, and still trust that they’ll listen.

And then Jake says -

“But everyone draws their own line[...] For example, see, I used to think my line was drawn at using my friend, my cousin, to do my dirty work. Guess that turned out not to be true. Sorry, Rachel.”

And then they hug and vow to murder David together, as a team. Heartwarming cousin bonding! Again, so much therapy.

So yeah I love that scene. especially when you take into consideration Rachel’s ultimate fate, and Jake’s part in it. excuse me while I go weep.

Anyways, to the end. THE ENDING....it gets me every time. I’ll never be over it. I don’t remember much about animorphs from when I read it at age 11 but I really really remember the ending to book 22. The way they masterfully set David up, the rat morph, the pipes, THE LEGO, the reveal that they planned the entire thing, the moment when David realizes what’s going to happen to him....oof. It’s not something I could forget, even w/my notoriously horrible memory when it comes to media

Also I feel like there was more subtle misogyny when David insists on humiliating/subjugating Rachel, just because she proved earlier that she was stronger and smarter and better than him...eugh David is just such a disgusting creep that you don’t even end up feeling bad for him even though he’s a middle schooler being handed a fate worse than death. I mean, he tossed a dead/dying kid’s body down an elevator shaft in a children's hospital. I’m pretty sure he deserves this.

And here’s the part where I talk about Cassie. because even though she didn’t get a POV book in the David trilogy, she still got some brutally fantastic character development. here we see David starting to realize what’s happening -

‘Cassie was crying. David hadn't asked who the mastermind of the plan was. Who it was who had so accurately appraised his emotions, his need to build his ego, the fact that he would choose me to be his “companion.” Cassie, of course. Cassie had worked it out, step by step, after Jake and I had failed to come up with anything. For Cassie, it was an improvement over the alternatives. See, no one was going to have to die. But David’s life would end, just the same.’

CASSIE. The dark horse, except not really, bc this is perfectly in line with what we know about her, especially coming off book 19, her last POV book before this. in that book she makes some absolutely awful decisions, all to avoid having to kill somebody.

After all of Jake and Rachel’s badass vows to take David down, it’s Cassie who finds the solution.

To a lot of people, David’s fate could be considered worse than death. To Cassie, it’s a better alternative. That speaks volumes about her, and I love it.

Also, the MANIPULATION. Cassie in the David trilogy really gets to flex her interpersonal manipulation skills, which I love to see. It’s such a fascinating aspect of her character; a really interesting use of empathy

Like the scene in book 20 where David freaks out as a roach and she manipulates him into not giving them away by pitting him against Marco, someone who David doesn’t get along with, by saying ‘if Marco can do it, can’t you?’ because she knows he’ll fall for it. And he DOES.

And then the part in the cafeteria where she basically plays the ‘good cop’ to everyone else in the group’s ‘bad cop.’ Not ONLY does she manage to get David to shut up and listen to her, she also posits her theory that he wants to blue box to trade it for his parents - which his reactions to her questions confirms as true. and nobody else in the group suspected this.

She lures him into a sense of security by talking kindly and quietly about how she understands how he feels, then hits him with what she knows and gets him to confirm it, which then allows Rachel to accurately threaten him.

And then Cassie, offscreen, comes up with the entire plan on how to trap David as a rat, because from the beginning she had him figured out. David didn’t pay much attention to Cassie - more misogyny tbh, as Cassie is the girl on the team who isn’t an aggressive, feminine blonde - and that ended up being a huge reason for his downfall.

David also didn’t pay much attention to Tobias, and clearly didn’t see him as human at all, and that made Tobias very valuable after David assumed he had killed Tobias.

Ok, back to the ending - the fact that it was Rachel and Ax who stayed there to wait the two hours for David to become a nothlit....

Rachel says -

‘Jake’s a good leader. He knows when to use us. He knows when to protect us. He knew he had to protect as many of his people as he could from what was going to happen.’

fucking brutal. TWO HOURS of listening to this awful kid beg and threaten and barter. I can’t even imagine.

And Ax too! He gets overlooked a lot as an alien, and it’s probably true that all of this impacts him differently than the other human animorphs, it can’t be in any way pleasant to have to sit there for two hours and act as a living timer to count down this kid’s life. Ax is a kid, too, and an isolated one at that, being the only Andalite on the team.

So yeah that scene is awful. Rachel even says -

‘Two hours. But that two hours of horror will last forever in my mind. If I live a hundred years, I will still hear his cries, his threats, his pleading, each night before sleep takes me. And beyond sleep, in my dreams.’

I know I’m beating a dead horse here, but jesus christ, THEY NEED SO MUCH THERAPY. The fact that one of the constants in all of the POVs is the nightmares that all the animorphs consistently have....geez

Okay so I know in my last two liveblogs I ended them by comparing animorphs to another series - hxh and mtmte - but I honestly am drawing a blank for this...

I guess the only thing I can think of is to compare it to mob psycho 100, which is another very good, very subtly subversive series

In mp100, the entire Point is that the very powerful psychic middle schoolers DON’T end up using their powers to fight life-or-death battles against adult enemies in order to save the world and whatnot. the Point is that that’s fucked up, and these kids shouldn’t be responsible for something like that, no matter how powerful they are

and basically the character who says all that is Reigen, an adult who actively prevents the middle schoolers from joining what would be some very traumatizing fights

basically my point here is less to compare the two shows and more to say - the poor animorphs could really use a Reigen huh. like, they seriously need an adult who’ll step in and say ‘wait a second, these kids are doing WHAT? hold the fucking phone, no way, get some actual adults in here to solve this shit. not today!’

the closest they could've come to an adult figure in their lives is Elfangor and he dies like 5 minutes after giving them superpowers, soooo....

man mp100 slaps I should rewatch it. anyways yeah the theme of this post is ‘the animorphs need therapy and also a stable adult figure in their lives to help them not get traumatized all the time’ thank you for coming to my ted talk

#this is like a whole ass thesis lmao i have quotes and everything look at that #lj reads animorphs #had to fix that tag bc it used to say 'read' instead of 'reads' smfh #animorphs

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atths--twice · 3 years

Link

Chapter Nine 9/9

The Kosher Deli December 25, 2017 One week later

Mulder looked up from an email from Cera, as the bells on the door jingled, announcing an arrival. It was not Scully, but an older man and a little girl wearing hot pink furry earmuffs and a matching coat. They walked past him and he watched them approach the counter, smiling as the girl looked at all the cookies, as she decided on which one she wanted to buy.

He looked back down at his phone, at the photos she had sent over and he shook his head. The night she had been attacked in the amusement park, she had captured pictures of Elinor, unbeknownst to her until a couple of days later.

Elinor had not appeared as a ghost, but as a slightly out of focus person, getting clearer the closer she came to Cera. Not an angel in a graveyard, but a vengeful woman in her wedding dress. Mulder shook his head at the physical proof of an apparition that he held in his hand and all he could think was that it had nearly cost Scully her life. Not worth it.

Nothing was worth that.

“Hey,” Scully said, suddenly beside him and he jumped as he turned to look at her, locking his phone and putting it into his pocket. “Scare you?” She smiled as she sat down carefully, taking a chip from the bag in front of him.

“What have I been telling you for the past few days? I don’t get scared, remember?” he lied, his heart racing in his chest.

“Hmm,” she hummed, eating the chip and taking another. “Couldn’t wait for me?”

“You said twenty minutes and it’s been... at least thirty. So, I needed something to tide me over.”

“I believe the new established understanding is, if it’s longer than twenty minutes, bacon is involved. All the bacon.”

“Jewish deli, Scully,” he quipped, looking around and she laughed softly.

“Touché,” she said as she stood up just as carefully as she had sat down, brushing off her hands, and sliding off her coat and leaving it on her chair. “I’ll go order for us, you wait here and keep the table.” She stared at him and he raised an eyebrow. “Pastrami on rye, extra mustard, pickle on the side.” He kept staring and she smiled. “Coleslaw, unless the potato salad looks homemade.”

“Ahhh, Scully…” he said, more than a little aroused.

“Twenty five years, Mulder,” she said, shrugging and walking away.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Twenty five years.”

He sighed as he watched her waiting in line, seeing her unconsciously rubbing gently at her chest. Knowing it was the ache of the bruises that covered the skin beneath the black sweater she wore, he shook his head, rubbing at his mouth.

They had only arrived home yesterday afternoon, after Scully had spent a couple of days in the hospital, making sure she was all right after nearly dying at the Boudreaux house. The ambulance had arrived not long after she had passed out and taken her to a hospital nearby, him following behind in the car.

He had not been allowed back until she was in a room, no matter how he had raged or flashed his badge. When he had finally been allowed back, he had walked into her room, believing she was asleep and causing him to pause in the doorway. But then she had opened her eyes and reached her hand out to him. He had walked over to her, grasping her hand and kissing her forehead, before resting his against hers.

“Thank you,” she had whispered, her thumb rubbing over the top of his hand.

“Scully,” he had whispered, pulling back to look at her.

“Stay with me. Don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She had tugged at his hand, trying to move over, groaning as she did. “Hey… careful. Let me help you.”

He had helped her shift over a bit, took off his shoes and suit jacket, and slid beneath the blankets beside her. Lying on their sides, she had nestled into him, his arms wrapped around her, and her hand grasping at his shirt.

“Mulder…” she had sighed, her breath warm against his neck, falling asleep almost instantly.

In the next few days, she had quite a few visitors for someone who knew no one in the area. Sheriff Lavonne had come to take their statement and her eyes had flicked to Mulder’s as he stood in the corner of the room, listening to her doctored version of events.

She had already told him what had happened, or what she thought had happened, shaking her head as she had said she did not know what was real or imagined.

“You think you imagined it, Scully?” he had asked, and she shook her head with a sigh.

“I don’t know, Mulder.” She had looked at him with a shrug, looking down as she rubbed the blanket between her fingers. “How can I explain to others that I believe I was trapped inside of a mirror with a woman who died over 150 years ago? I can barely comprehend it. How can I explain that without ending up in the psych ward?”

To that question, he had no answer.

Arielle, Davis, Cera, and Adam had come to see them, eager to tell their story of what had happened.

The four of them had met up, sharing the stories each had heard over the years concerning Elinor and Mary. When they had hit a dead end, they had done the same as Mulder, scouring past records for any information. They had called family members, friends, and friends of friends, asking if anyone they knew had ever mentioned or knew of stories related to Mary and Elinor.

They had found a person related to James Cormier, a man who had heard his mother tell stories that she had heard about lost loves and being sure to choose the right person as your life partner. To never settle for the most beautiful or wealthy because both will fade. But love, it lasts and remains forever, no matter a person's social standing.

“Better to be poor and happy than rich and miserable,” Arielle had said and the others had agreed, but then debated that being happy and a bit rich would not be so bad. They had all laughed and then they continued the story.

After they had spoken to Reese, James’s distant relative, they knew what they needed to do.

“Truth be told,” Davis had said, shaking his head. “The minute Arielle showed me the pictures Cera had taken a few years ago, I knew what we had to do, but I was terrified to actually do it.”

“I was too,” Arielle had said, taking his hand and looking at him with a nod. “I felt nauseous at the thought of even being there. But then, we went and saw Farrah and Tyler in the hospital, something I had been unable to do until then, and I wasn’t scared anymore. I was fucking pissed.” Davis had nodded in agreement, clenching his jaw.

They had driven out, stopping at a hardware store for sledgehammers and protective eye goggles, gaining curious looks, but no comments from the gum chewing young girl who had rung up four people buying such items in the middle of a storm.

When they had pulled up to the church, Arielle and Davis both had a moment of hesitation, breathing hard and shaking in the pouring rain.

“But then Cera…” Arielle had said, tears in her eyes as she reached for her friend’s hand. “She grabbed my hand and that was all I needed. She nodded and we walked together in the rain, determined to end it.”

Knowing exactly where it was, Cera leading them, still holding Arielle’s hand, they had each taken a sledgehammer and put on their goggles, lightning flashing and the rain making it harder to see, but not impossible to get their task finished.

Simultaneously, they had hit Elinor’s headstone and the large statue of Mary that had been ordered to be erected there by Mary’s mother Elizabeth, years after Mary’s death.

“Hany, the slave girl who had been befriended by Mary, had also been entrusted with letters Mary had written when she was the most ill regarding her concerns about Elinor, that were to be given to her mother after Mary’s father had died,” Adam had explained. “Mary did not like her father and he did not seem to care for her either. After his death, Hany came back to that house she had lived in as a slave, and told the truth she had kept secret for years. Mary’s mother had the statue made as a sense of revenge: that Mary would always be there no matter where Elinor was. So… that bitch had to come down.” The other three had nodded vigorously and Mulder had looked at Scully, impressed by the little group of badasses.

Not stopping until both were piles of rubble, they had fallen to the ground, everyone but Adam crying, feeling free, the rain washing them clean.

“I didn’t even feel cold,” Arielle had said, crying and wiping her eyes. “For the first time in nearly two months, in the pouring rain, I didn’t feel cold.” She had looked at Mulder and he had nodded with a smile before glancing at Scully. She had wiped at her own eyes and looked at him, understanding that their actions had not only saved them, but had been what saved her as well.

When Scully had been released from the hospital, they had gone to see Farrah and Tyler, who were now awake and making a slow recovery, much to Doctor Audrey’s relief.

“It’s going to take a long time for them to heal,” Scully had said, taking a deep breath as they walked down the hallway, slowing her steps for a second. Taking another deep breath, she had placed her hand on her chest, giving him a nod. “I’m okay. Just some bruising.” He had stared at her, knowing he had been the one to put the bruises there, in his desperate attempt to keep her heart beating, and she had shaken her head.

“I’ll take the bruises over the alternative any day,” she had said softly and he had nodded, placing his hand on the small of her back as they had continued out of the hospital.

“Food should be up soon,” she said, sitting beside him, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Great, I’m starving.”

“Maybe this will help tide you over until then?” she asked with a smile, placing a black and white cookie in front of him on a napkin. He nodded as he looked at it, breaking it in half horizontally, two pieces of equal amount of both colors.

“Look to the cookie, Elaine. Look to the cookie,” he said, quoting Seinfeld and he handed her half. She laughed and nodded as she took a bite and he did the same.

“Order for Fox? Fox, your order is ready!”

“Really?” he asked, staring at her and shaking his head. She shrugged, not meeting his eyes until he started to get up and she looked at him, her eyes shining. “I’ll remember this, Miss Scully, mark my words.”

“I’m sure you will… Fox,” she giggled and he shook his head with a smile as he walked up to the counter.

“Fox?” the girl at the counter asked.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he muttered, and she nodded, sliding their tray of food toward him.

“Thank you for coming in today, Fox. And Merry Christmas!” He looked at her and nodded.

“Happy Holidays to you,” he said, picking up the tray and turning around. He shook his head as he saw Scully grinning at him as he walked back to their table.

“Did you get the food okay then, Fox?”

“You best watch it,” he said, setting the tray down as she took their plates off of it, and he moved the tray to the side.

They ate in silence, sharing food back and forth as they always had, and he found comfort in the comfortable. Glancing at her as she stopped eating to take a deep breath, he shook his head needing to tell her something that had been on his mind.

“I know I’ve joked that I don’t get scared anymore,” he said quietly, setting his sandwich down, and wiping his hands clean. “But… I was more scared than I have ever been when I couldn’t bring you around. You were so cold-”

“Mulder-”

“I thought I’d lost you, Scully. I really did.”

“Your panic face was showing?” she teased and he looked at her, his expression serious.

“I’m not joking. I’m not-”

“Mulder,” she said quietly, covering his hand with her own and squeezing his fingers. “I know. I… I was scared too. Very scared.” He nodded as he looked into her eyes and they spoke the best way they knew how; silently. He squeezed her hand with a deep sigh and a nod and she squeezed back.

Not saying anything further, words unnecessary, they sat quietly holding hands, in a busy Jewish deli on Christmas afternoon, her head resting on his shoulder, as life bustled on around them.

#XFCase2020 #The X-Files #XF Fanfic #New Case #Coming Home #Christmas together #Sitting together as the world carries on

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gracehcreates-bct · 3 years

Text

W8 Studio - Project into the public

X-Challenge

I entered my team into X-Challenge, but unfortunately our group was too big to do the whole project so we split ourselves into two and did the app and boot cleaner as seperate ideas.

Boot Cleaner Prototype

Kent made a boot cleaner prototype over the weekend, using cardboard and pvc pipes. Not included is the spray, which would be situated underneath the boot.

Survey Results

I sent out the survey on facebook, first to the Creative Technologies Year 3 page and then my neighbourhood community’s page. So far there are 62 responses.

1. How often do you go on walking trails?

Once a week - 11 people Once fortnightly - 7 people Once a month - 23 people Once a year - 18 people Never - 3 people

2. Who would you usually take with you? (pick between 1 - 2)

Family - 46 people Friends - 19 people Dogs - 12 people No-one - 11 people

3. Have you heard of the Kauri Dieback Disease?

61/62 people have heard of Kauri Dieback.

4. If yes, how do you think preventing it is to New Zealand’s forests in the future? (on a scale of 1 - 10)

Average is 9.1, with 6 out of 60 people who answered this question ranking it below 8.

5. What would make the boot cleaner more convienent?

About 17 out of 62 thought that the boot cleaner was fine as it is. Two people answered there should be more of them.

Answers about the station itself: - Maybe if it was longer so you can keep moving as you clean. So others don’t get held up behind you. - If more people could use it at the same time. - Maybe a larger, flatter station - Proper set up like your picture - as some are only a mat and can easily be avoided - A seat to sit on when spraying shoes with the stuff. Very hard to work hose on one foot with a pack on - Regular servicing - I guess it's a bit of a bottle neck, depending on the popularity of the trial maybe it holds people up? - Have more of an obstacle that makes it so you get in slower. Therefore, making you clean your shoes more thoroughly? :D - Better maintenance sometimes they are worn out - Clearer instructions Easier to use Maybe a video

Answers about boot cleaner: - I guess if it rotated it might get more sit out from the grooves? Also, with covid I try to avoid touching anything and this this old style and the spray gun you have to touch - Have a cleaner for jandals. This one doesn’t work so well - Foot activated sprays. Physical barriers that force people to activate the spray to get thru the barrier. - Weight based means children and lighter people don't activate it so perhaps something that doesn't get activated by weight that you walk through. Shallow enough to just cover sole of shes/boots - Maybe some foot level spray system. Sometimes balancing on one foot to spray is tricky - the spray trigger should have a novel so that it covers each shoe in one spray - Fixed brushes as shown here. The hand squirter and hand brush combination is too difficult to manage. Lose balance and give up - A hand held brush to scrub the side of shoes. - No spray, just scrub and step - A device to clamp around shoes and spray all around - Rotating brushes - Making the brushes not worn down. Last bush walk I went on the brushes for your feet were too worn down and didn’t work very well - Bending down is tricky so a system that doesn’t make you bend over is good - If it always had disinfectant in it. - It having the spray stuff in it and not be empty - Not have to use the hand spray bottle that is found on some stations. - Find it ok as it is, but prefer the one that sprays your shoes when you stand on it to the hand held one - Automatic - probably some type of automated boot cleaner - I am liking the new "hop on to spray" pads

Other: - It’s fine but something to keep the spray from coming up and wetting your shoes and ankles would be good-keep it to the soles - designing something the birds might use, as it's far more likely to be transmitted by them. - An agent that actually is proven as working on phytophthora - I think the boots cleaners are possibly okay, it's the dogs i always think , might be more carriers especially as often off lead when they shouldn't be. - Nothing. I think it’s clearly marked with instructions and you can’t miss them at the beginning and end of tracks. One time there was a DOC guy there educating people how to clean boots properly which was helpful cos I had actually been doing the process the wrong way around prior to that! - RGB LEDs, to attract the kids - maybe having someone employed by like doc or something to make sure there are ppl washing their shoee

6. How effective do you think the covid tracer app was in preventing the spread of covid-19? (on a scale of 1 - 10)

Average is 7.3, with only 5 people out of 62 ranking it below a 5.

7. We are designing an app and deciding on the content, what is most appealing to you?

Treasure Hunt - #1.82 average Augmented Reality boot cleaner - #2.06 average Running statistics tracker - #2.11 average

8. Why did you choose the previous answer? Otherwise, give us an example of something you’d like to see on it.

About 5/46 people answered that they couldn’t see the image I had used, which is my own fault but the survey website is difficult to understand. 4/46 directly said “Treasure Hunts are fun”. Two people said it didn’t matter as long as it was simple to use.

- Statistics can drive behaviour - Treasure hunt appeals to families using tracks - There is a general lack of information about Kauri Dieback at the boot cleaning stations especially Tane Mahuta - information would result in adherence - The question wasn’t clear to me so I chose the fun option. No idea what AR boot cleaner is - maybe I didn’t click on something? - Seemed the most applicable (Augmented Reality) - Didn’t really have a view. Not sure what the point of the treasure hunt and A4 - I just think the treasure hunt idea has more appeal. Not clear how it works - A map of dieback - Information on Kauri on the area you are about to walk in, how many, if have any signs of disease - Definitely make it fun to use, stats make it interesting - learn with play: Tree/ nature trivia, e.g. like: what tree is this? (photo) - Sounds more fun (Treasure Hunt) - Fun makes things engaging. Also, running is boring. - Treasure hunt might make it more interesting for the grandchildren I take hiking. I know what AR is but I cannot imaging it being useful for book cleaning. - Links with GPS - Easy to find information for the novice /infrequent tramper - I didn't see how the answers linked to the app. What's the purpose of the app? If it's just to track like the covid app it doesn't need anything else on it. Most people who run in the bush would use another app already. - if i got it my main , objective would be to help with Die-back .Stats would be interesting so No.2,Treasure hunt No.3 , as kids grown up , but even if younger i might have put 3 , but would be good for younsters - I may take my child if there is a treasure hunt as part of the app/walk - The AR boot cleaner would encourage people to clean their shoes properly because it would make cleaning more fun and accurate. - I like stats - and I like the new aspect of the covid app where you get a little sticker icon when you get 14 days diary entry. - Got to be something interesting and fun. Maybe as an incentive add in spot prizes provided by possible sponsors.. - NZ health statistics - Interactive is fun and makes you feel involved - More visually appealing (Treasure Hunt) - More fun makes people more likely to use. - Don't understand what the boot one is - Routes recommendation, especially secret/not popular spots. Treasure hunting is a bit like that - Treasure hunt seems rewarding. AR seems interactive. Statistics sound boring - I think that if you make it a sort of game it will encourage people to get into the nitty gritty parts of shoe! - Not sure why I'd want a virtual boot cleaner tbh. Other content could be birds to look out for.. bit of history, exercise tips - Helps me know which parts of my boots are clean :)

9. Thank you for taking the time to do this. Any other ideas/feedback for us?

- Anything to help contain the spread and educate people is good-Tane Mahuta was our first experience and there was no information and no reception to be able to Google it. - Would love people to be encouraged to use the boot wash more. - Good idea to encourage behaviours that will stop the spread. Well done - no, its communist propaganda - I develop apps myself, but I am doubtful about their applicability to Kauri Dieback reduction - An alarm when boots are not cleaned properly. - Still not sure what your app will do. - Good luck , please put a reminder if possible the importance of dogs on leads in areas where needed.PS We do own a dog! - Thank you for your work - I put 10 as meaning it is very important. You don’t say how the scale works though - Kauri Dieback poses a serious issue and I'm glad theres a project looking at this!! 🙌 - I would just try to be really focused on the problem you want to solve. Is it boot cleaning, is it awareness, is it history, is it fitness

Additionally Miles emailed Dr Gerth, so we have an interview with her on May 27th.

#CTEC708

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orisitme-blog · 4 years

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Writing My Novel – Lessons Learned Part 1

So, it has been just over a year since I published my first novel. In my previous working life, we would always have a ‘lessons learned’ meeting a couple of months after a project went ‘live’ in an effort to try to understand if we could have done anything better and it occurred to me that I should do the same with my novel. So, adapting my project life-cycle knowledge to the process of novel writing, here goes:

Requirements

Before you start any project, you should of course define your requirements – and so I did (sort of). I didn’t really think too much about who the book was for other than anybody who was interested in Brexit and satire but I did plan every character and summarized every chapter. What surprised me was how much the characters and the story I was telling changed as my tale started to unravel. My characters altered states and made their opinions known in ways I had not imagined. Like a tree through the seasons, swaying one way, then another, losing leaves, being lopped, then regrowth. A lot of regrowth.

My conclusion then on being clear on what you want to write is of course - yes, be clear on the genre and who your audience is but don’t attempt to nail it all down at the start. Writing is a creative as well as a technical process and although you do need to ensure your basic structure is right (a bit like building a house) for many writers the process is organic (I say ‘for many’ – there are of course some who can sit down and plonk words down onto a page in their correct story-telling sequence first go) but most writers are not like that - I know I’m certainly not. So, my lesson learned for the future is to set down a framework, write a first draft with summary chapters, find out who appears, get to know them, see where they take me and what they get up to then rewrite, rewrite, rewrite.

Mentoring

I was finding certain chapters in my novel quite difficult to write and so I decided I needed some guidance, somebody to help and advise me. I did my homework, selected one of the top agencies and paid a few hundred pounds for their mentoring service. They selected a mentor from their pool of consultants and she worked with me, she read my manuscript and offered guidance. It worked well. She was helpful and worth the money. Would I do it again though? Maybe, if I could guarantee I would have the same mentor, otherwise probably not. My lesson learned is that it is expensive and I am now aware of how ‘hit and miss’ the process can be. I was lucky, I got a good mentor, it could have been so different…

Editing

I obviously needed an editor so I used the same agency for the editing process. Why not? The mentoring had worked well after all. So, I sent in my finished masterpiece … manuscript for a quote. It was just under 70,000 words. Now, I will be the first to admit that I was a little fuzzy on the editing process at the time (it is all so much clearer to me now). So, I called the agency and I discussed with their reception lady what needed to be done. She gave me a hefty four figure quote and explained to me that for my money their editor would do a copy-edit, a check for punctuation and grammar and also proof read my novel. I knew there was a fair amount of work involved so I agreed.

For just over three weeks, nerves on edge, I waited for the return of my manuscript. Waited as one might wait for a child returning from their first school trip away. However, all I can say is that when I did get my manuscript back it was as if I’d gone to pick up my child and found her sitting on a bench in the car park having gone nowhere at all. I will say at this stage that the three weeks away from my novel helped me to look at it in a completely new light. I read it with an air of detachment and spotted all of the previously unseen errors and niggly mistakes that I hadn’t previously been able to see because I was too close to the content – take note, I noticed these things after it had been through their editing, punctuation, grammar and proofreading processes! I could not believe the state it was in. To be brutally honest I was a little embarrassed that I had submitted it in that state in the first place. They were not at all embarrassed about taking my money and not doing the work though.

The only aspect of human discord that I am good at is how best to avoid confrontation. Which is generally what I do. That said, when a company, blatantly takes the piss out of you (I’m sorry they are the only words that I think of to accurately describe what happened) then I feel duty bound to make a stand. So, I evaluated the situation and considered my options. I am a great believer in being careful which battles I choose to fight in life but it became obvious to me I had to do something about it. I couldn’t let them get away with it. As a start I contacted the agency, I mentioned that I was a bit surprised at the manuscript they had sent back to me and asked if maybe they had sent me the wrong version.

Long story short – they explained to me that copy-editing, punctuation/ grammar and proof-reading were separate processes, that my novel now needed to be proofread and if I wanted it done they would give me a quote. I pointed out to them that I did understand that they were separate processes but that they had quoted me a sum of money and told me that proofreading would be included – they therefore set my expectation level so it would be fair enough for me to think that the work would be done. I then (and this is the reason I had little hesitation in confronting them in the first place) included in my reply the email in which they had confirmed exactly what they said they would do. Without the email as evidence it would just have been an ‘I said/ you said‘ scenario and who can be bothered with that? They then came back to me and confirmed that the work they sent back was, overall, to a standard with what the industry would produce (I tell you this lot did not make the publishing industry look good at all!) but that they were prepared to offer me a small refund or a slightly larger amount on a credit note. I wish I was kidding.

I then decided to add a little detail as to why I was not satisfied with the work they had done. I pointed out that their editor had introduced a couple of punctuation errors, when referring to two of the characters had spelled their names incorrectly and in one chapter a baby – who was a boy at the beginning of the chapter was a girl by the end of it! This was in a single chapter and she never picked up on it. It is basic editing and I know, I know, I’m embarrassed by it but my excuse is that it was my first novel. To this day I have no idea what their editors excuse was for producing such sloppy, unprofessional work. Apparently this woman has written a book on editing. I despair.

When an organization behaves in such a way the damage they do in trust – not only to their own company but to the business as a whole is immense. That said, the last contact I had with the agency, they put their hands up, admitted their mistakes and provided a solution. I work on the principle that in business – as in life – anything can go wrong at any time and all you can ask when it does is that the parties involved are open, honest and discuss and correct their mistakes in a non-tricky way. It’s called integrity. Eventually they did that so good for them.

We eventually agreed on a 50% refund.

As a result of my experience I decided to rethink the whole editing process for my future novels, in part 2 of my blog I will discuss how I got my novel edited and the lessons that I learned from the editing process. I will also talk about the mistakes I made during the publication process – there were several - the main one being the title! I can’t believe I chose such a rubbish title for my novel - too late now though, I’m stuck with it!

S.A.Lama

Author ‘Brexit comes to Bedwell Ash.’

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cordonia-continued · 4 years

Text

Captivated

Chapter 21

AU - TRR Liam x MC (Riley Taylor)

A/N - Set after the Tariq scandal is cleared. Liam ends his engagement to Madeleine and proposes to MC as per the original story, but Riley turns him down. This AU follows their life from then on.

I work in investigation and my best friend's husband is a body guard so apologies if this chapter turned out too ‘techy’, I tried not to make it like that and to keep it very brief while still trying to be accurate, although they do say write about what you know!

Word count - 3,366

@kingliam2019 @imjusthereforliam @amandablink @hopefulmoonobject @texaskitten30 @mom2000aggie (let me know if you no longer want to be tagged)

catch up here

Liam is sitting at the long highly polished walnut table in the main conference room at the palace, he’s been locked in a meeting all morning with several of his advisors discussing budget cuts and he’s just about had enough. He’s welcome of the interruption when Bastien knocks on the door. His mind soon turns to concern however when the guard enters without waiting for an invitation. He looks up from his notes in surprise at the intrusion and sees the look on Bastien’s face, he knows immediately that something’s wrong. He rises from his seat and excuses himself as everyone around the table stands on ceremony with him. He follows Bastien down the hallway in silence to his study. He takes a seat at his desk as Bastien shuts the door firmly behind them.

“What’s wrong?” Liam asks as soon as the door is shut, knowing from the concerned look on Bastien’s face that this isn’t the time for pleasantries.

“Sir, don’t be concerned but I’ve had a call from Mara, they seem to have mislaid Lady Riley.”

“What?” Liam’s face creases in confusion. “What do you mean mislaid her? She not a wallet Bastien, how can you mislay her?” Bastien’s heart thumps wildly in his chest, he had hoped to avoid having to impart this news on his king, had hoped that Mara would have called him telling him that she had found Riley in a shop or cafe by now.

“They can’t find her sir. They stopped on the way to meet Drake and Duchess Olivia for lunch on Main Street. Somehow, and I don’t quite know how yet sir, Lady Riley went into a store and that was the last anyone saw of her. Her phone was found on the pavement with its screen smashed. There is no trace of her anywhere on the street or in the other shops. She’s not turned up to meet Drake.” Liam notices what appears to be shame and regret cross Bastien’s usually calm and competent face.

“What? How long ago did this happen?” Liam’s jaw sets ridged and Bastien notices a vein popping out on his strained neck. He bows his head avoiding the Kings steely eyes.

“About 30 maybe 40 minutes ago sir.”

“How has this happened Bastien? Where was Mara for Christ’s sake? You need to find her now!” Liam yells.

“I’m on it sir. She probably just went shopping and lost track of time, or ended up on a different street and got a bit lost. Don’t worry just yet, I’m sure it’s nothing. I need to go and makes some calls. I’ve got guards going to the loss location now. We’re getting the security footage for all along the street as we speak. If nothing turns up in the next hour I’m going to inform the police and set up a control centre in the conference room. Don’t worry Your Majesty, we’ll find her.”

“You had better Bastien.” Bastien nods and leaves the room, racing down to his office.

Liam’s phone silently buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, his heart hammering as he looks at the caller ID hoping it’s Riley. It sinks when he sees it’s Drake.

“Drake?”

“Li what the hell’s happening? Where’s Taylor?”

“I don’t know. Bastien’s just told me they can’t find her. Drake why is she not with you? I thought she was meeting you and Olivia for lunch? Where the fuck is she Drake?” As soon as Drake hears the usually calm Liam curse he knows that it’s serious.

“Shit Li, stay calm. We’ll find her. She has to be there somewhere. You know what she’s like, she probably saw a kitten and followed it and got lost or something. Me and Liv are going to stay here in case she turns up. Keep me updated yeah.”

“Yes of course, same goes for you too.”

“Yep sure thing buddy. Speak soon.”

Liam sits down on the couch in his study and puts his head in his hands, panic rising through him, adrenaline pumping through his veins making his hands shake. He stands, his legs trembling, and walks over to his desk, picking up the phone he presses the button for his assistant.

“Gabriella please dismiss the gentlemen in the conference room. Tell them something unexpected has come up. And cancel my meetings for the rest of the day. Please field any phone calls unless they are from Bastien, the police or...” his words catch in his throat. “Riley.”

2 hours later and there’s still no trace of where Riley disappeared to. Liam enters the conference room as Bastien’s team and plain clothes police officers are setting up phone lines and computers. A uniformed man walks over with Bastien, he bows and holds out his hand.

“Chief of Police, Officer Beckett. Pleased to meet you Your Majesty.” Liam shakes his hand. “I want assure you sir we are doing everything we can to locate Lady Riley. I have my best team on it and we will be working around the clock. The ports and airport are on high alert.”

Liam nods in response. “Bastien I want to stay here, I won’t get in the way. I need to know what’s going on.” It wasn't a request but a command.

“Very well sir. We are currently reviewing the security footage from the shops and the highways agency. We have a very narrow time frame in which she disappeared so we hope it will give us some results. A team of police officers are taking statements from anyone that we can identify who was in the vicinity at the time.” Liam nods his head in understanding. Bastien looks at the King gravely and lowers his voice. “I have an officer on the way to the Beaumont’s, we need to search Lady Riley’s room, see if anything’s missing, find out if she’s taken any clothes or personal effects, check if her passport is still there. I have asked an officer to be posted at the estate going forward until we have a clearer picture of what’s going on. We know that the letters and calls we recently identified were addressed to her there, I’ve spoken to the Duke of Ramsford and made him aware of the situation and he has agreed to allow us to place a tap on the phone line there. We need to be ready for the possibility of a ransom demand being sent. At the moment we have no lead on whether this is a planned attack by a known enemy of the crown or something else. Or if she’s gone of her own volition sir.”

“She wouldn’t do that Bastien.” Liam assures him.

“Sir at this point we can’t rule anything out. I have stationed guards at the restaurant she had planned to go to today in case she makes her way there, I have contacted Drake and Duchess Olivia they are on their way here. If you receive a call on your personal mobile phone from an unknown or unrecognised number don’t answer it and alert me immediately.”

Liam looks directly into his guards eyes. “Bastien you have to find her.”

“I know sir. I will.” He nods.

An hour later Drake and Olivia race into the conference room. Liam’s surprised as Olivia pulls him into an uncharacteristic hug. Drake fires questions at him. Liam holds up his hands.

“Drake slow down. I don’t know anything yet. Just that she was there one minute and gone the next. We have no ransom demands or contact from anyone claiming to be holding her.” He leads them over to the sitting area where they all perch nervously on the edge of the armchairs. They sit in silence as Olivia mindlessly drums her fingernails on the side table next to her. Like hail on a glass pane, the noise is as relentless as it is loud. Each click of the French polished nails on the table echoes the tumultuous thudding of all of their heart beats.

“Olivia!” Drake eventually snaps. “Quit it!” She glares at him, her face rigid with tension. As Drake looks at her he can’t help thinking that she seems to have aged a decade in the past few hours. She gets up and pours them all a cup of coffee from the pot on the low coffee table in front of them. She takes her cup, cradling it in her hands but not taking even one sip. She paces the plush carpeted floor back and forth asking the same questions that they’re all thinking but no one knows the answers to. Where is she? Why did she leave her phone? Why the hell was Mara not with her? What the fuck was she thinking going off on her own?

Waiting is easier for Drake than it is for the feisty Duchess. He’s had plenty practice while fishing. He leans back in his chair and closes his eyes trying to clear his mind of the intrusive thoughts that are creeping in. He knows Taylor wouldn’t go off on her own and not let him know she was safe, she would know how much he would worry about her. Olivia is firing her questions at an unresponsive Liam who’s engrossed in his laptop, scouring every known news website for any information that may have been leaked to them, reading every comment on Riley’s social media in the hope of finding a clue, continually refreshing his email in case a kidnapper tries to make contact that way.

As the productivity of the police and guards go on around them, time for the trio slows to a trickle, minutes and hours blend into each other. Eventually Bastien calls Liam over to where he is standing looking over the shoulder of one of his technical officers.

“Your Majesty I think you need you to see this.” He points to the image of the inside of a store displayed on one of the large computer screens set up on the table. Bastien then addresses his officer. “Lucas go and take five please.” The techie gets up wordlessly from his chair and wanders off to the coffee and pastries that the palace staff have set up along the far wall. Bastien takes his place pulling a chair over for Liam. He presses play on the footage and Liam’s heart leaps into his throat as he sees Riley on the screen.

“These are the last movements we see of her sir. Here she is entering the shop. She goes directly to this aisle, picks something off the shelf here and then we see her from the other camera angle.” He switches to another clip. “Here. She goes to the checkout clerk and pays with her credit card. She leaves the shop here. The cameras in the front of the shop are broken. We don’t see anything after she walks out of that door.” Liam nods not taking his eyes off Riley on the screen.

“Sir we have confirmed from the footage and with the store clerk what her purchase was. It explains why she wanted to make the purchase herself and why she wanted to go into the store alone.” Bastien pauses and takes a deep breath, he lowers his voice so only Liam can hear him.

“Your Majesty, Lady Riley purchased a pregnancy test.”

Liam’s head snaps to his guard as his eyes go wide.

“What! Are you sure?”

“Yes Sir. I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you.”

Liam gulps audibly. “No, don’t be. Thank you Bastien. I’d rather no one else knows about this. No one Bastien, do you understand?”

“Of course Your Majesty. Lucas my digital investigator who enhanced the footage and Mara who spoke with the store clerk are the only other people who know.” Bastien can’t look at Liam as he says the next words. “Sir I hate to say it but we can’t rule out the possibility that this is the reason for her disappearance. It could be that she doesn’t want to be found at the moment, maybe she needed time to come to terms with whatever the result was.”

Liam closes his eyes and presses his fingers into them. He’s silent for a long moment. Thoughts swirl around his brain. He shakes his head but he can’t dislodge them. He wonders why she wouldn’t have told him about this; is she worried about how he would react. He wonders if she’s scared or excited at the prospect of becoming a parent. Maybe Bastien is right – would she be scared enough to run; to leave him alone carrying the burden of never knowing what happened to her. He can’t even begin to think about what his own feelings are on the subject, not with so much worry in his stomach about where she is. He addresses his guard with a certainty that he doesn’t quite believe.

“No. She wouldn’t do that. I can’t believe that she would do that. And we know from the time stamp that she text Drake after she left the shop. Why would she have done that if she was planning on leaving? And she wouldn’t leave her phone.” Liam rises from the desk.

“Have you contacted Jacob Henley?” He asks, not wanting to hear the answer, Liam wonders if she would have confided in Jacob rather than him and hopes to God that it’s not true. He can’t even imagine the pressure that Riley must feel at potentially carrying the heir to a country when she’s she’s not even married to its king.

“Yes sir.” Bastien responds, he merely shakes his head no as an answer. Liam understands and can’t quite decide if he’s relieved or not.

“I need to take a minute, let Drake know that I’m going to get some air. I’ve got my phone, please call me straight away if anything changes.”

“Yes sir.”

Liam leaves the conference room and walks with heavy legs to his study. So many hours have passed since Riley was last seen and they have no leads. Fear curls up inside him and clings to his ribs, settling uncomfortably in his chest. He feels powerless. The not knowing is torturing him, thoughts of what might have happened creep into his mind, images of the love of his life being hurt or alone, crying or in pain. He walks over to his cabinet and takes out a decanter of scotch, he pours a large measure into a crystal glass and downs it in one gulp immediately pouring another. He takes his glass over to the leather couch and sits down heavily. He rubs his hand over his face, trying to rub away the thoughts that torment his mind. He sits alone staring blankly at the palace gardens beyond his window for some time until there’s a quiet knock at his study door. He ignores it, knowing if it was Bastien he would have called him or burst into the room already. The knocking starts up again a moment later before the door knob slowly twists and the door creeps open. A sombre looking Drake peers around the door frame.

“Hey Li, ok if I come in?” He asks with uncertainty in his voice.

“Yeah sure Drake.” Liam sighs. “Help yourself to a drink.” He lifts his glass to his friend. Drake makes his way over to the cabinet and chooses a decanter of whiskey. He pours a large measure and takes a seat next to Liam on the couch.

“You ok?” Drake kicks himself as soon as he’s said the words out loud.

“Not really no.” Liam shakes his head. And Drake winces at his own stupidity.

“Yeah, stupid question. Sorry. I don’t really know what to say.”

“It’s ok. You don’t need to say anything. Thanks for just being here.”

Drake shakes his head. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else. You know that. Olivia is staying over, she’s claimed a guest bedroom, sent one of your staff out for clothes and toiletries. Although I don’t know that anyone will do much sleeping. And Maxwell has not stopped texting me. He tells me he’s having a bit of a breakdown, although I’m hoping that’s what he meant and it was just his phone that autocorrected it to breakdance, the thought of him dancing at a time like this seems wholly inappropriate. But then again it is Maxwell we’re talking about here. He’s keeping me updated with the goings on at the Beaumont Estate through emojis.” Liam can’t even muster a smile for his best friend.

“Is there anything happening in there?” Liam gestures towards the direction of the conference room.

“Everyone seems to be busy but they’ve not given us any kind of update.” Liam nods. “Don’t worry Li, we’ll find her. She’ll be ok. She’s got to be. She’s probably just lost. She’ll be back before you know it with some grand story about how she lost track of time after finding an injured puppy and how she nursed it back to health with the help of a group of ragamuffin street kids, finding common ground by singing show tunes, or you know, something equally as farcical.”

“I hope so Drake. I can’t live without her.” Liam’s voice is barley a whisper. Drake knows exactly how Liam feels, his own heart echoes the same sentiment. The two men sip their drinks in silence for a long while until Liam eventually breaks it.

“Drake.” He takes a deep shaky breath. “Bastien said that she might have chosen to leave. Do you...do you think that she might have left because she wanted to?” Drake can see his best friend is holding back tears. Drake quietly contemplates the question before answering honestly.

“No Liam, I don’t think Taylor would do that. And if she did want to leave she would have told you first, probably in a big dramatic argument knowing her.” He smiles thinking of how Riley would never let anything go. She’s steely and determined, headstrong and impetuous. “She wouldn’t have wanted you to worry like this. She knows how much you love her. She wouldn’t leave her phone, she’s glued to the damn thing most of the time.” Drake smiles softly at the memory of arguing with Riley about having her phone permanently glued to her hand, remembering her asking him to take a dozen photos of her in the same God damn pose for Pictagram, how he wishes she was here badgering him to take her picture now. “And she would have definitely told Maxwell. She wouldn’t let people down.”

“Then that means that something’s happened to her Drake. Which is worse.” Liam’s voice breaks. “Someone’s taken her. I don’t know what to do Drake. I feel so useless.” A tear slips out of the kings eye and runs down his cheek. He wipes it away angrily.

“We don't know that Li. And it’s ok to have emotions. It’s normal to let them out from time to time you know. We can stay in here for a while.” Liam drains his glass and puts it down on his desk. He clears this throat and fixes his face into a much practised and disciplined unemotional façade.

“No. I need to get back in there and see what’s happening.”

He stands and Drake sees his friend transform in front of his eyes; brave on the outside, leading from the front regardless of personal cost. Everyone else has to see him as flawless, the polished version of himself to inspire confidence. Whilst Drake knows him as a friend he can’t help but respect him as a king. He doubts that the citizens of the country Liam reigns over could ever comprehend how much he has given up for them; he’s always the king that they need, stoic and strong. Drake sees the man underneath the crown, the man afraid of not being enough, of failing in his duty, of his purpose being unfulfilled. He sees a man that loves truly and deeply with his whole heart. A heart that’s in the process of breaking. Drake knows, because Drake’s is in the process of breaking too.

#choices trr #trr fanfic #the royal romance fan fic #choices fanfic #liam x riley #king liam #liam x mc #trr mc x liam #trr drake #trr bastien #trr liam

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