#the artist's post only has thirteen thousand :(

[bemyvalentinechallenge]

The Be My Valentine Challenge 2024

An event from @timecanalwayshealyou

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

The Be My Valentine Challenge is a challenge for writers, artists, and just any kind of creator, from the first of February to the 14th!

The idea is to create thirteen smaller, lead-up pieces based on the prompts; for example, ficlets/drabbles/one-shots, couplets, small artworks, individual gifs, et. cetera - and finish the challenge with a larger work; a fic, a full poem, a gifset, a big artwork, whatever sparks for you!

They can be a series or separate, and you're free to change mediums or fandoms for different days. If you'd rather create fourteen small works, or all large ones, or a combination of both, that's completely up to you! Prompts can be used after the event, combined, just do whatever! Only "properly" used prompts will be reblogged to this page, however.

The catch; it's all romance prompts, in the spirit of Valentine's Day and because everyone on this site is single and lonely.

Each day has a quote from an iconic or relevant romance film (The Notebook, Red, White and Royal Blue, The Fault In Our Stars, Pride And Prejudice, etc.), an iconic love song, and a romantic cliché, act, or item.

This account will be reblogging a few works (art, drabbles, ficposts, etc.) from the event tag (bemyvalentine2024) each day. Full tagging rules, the transcribed prompt list, and other event details are under the cut. If you're unsure about anything, send in an ask! Happy Creating!

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

There will be an ao3 collection open from the first of February to the fourteenth for submission. Artworks, gifsets, etc. posted to tumblr should be tagged appropriately to be seen as part of the event.

The official spotify playlist for the event can be found here.

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

Anyone who completes this event is considered a Valentine, and anyone who participates is a Lover. At the end of the event, a form will be put out, so if you wish to be tagged in a masterpost, keep an eye out! I won't be fact-checking, it's an honour system, so please be honest.

There will be completion and participation badges, too! They're in the works as we speak!

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

Tagging System:

event tag - #bemyvalentine2024

prompt tag - #bemyvalentineno1, #bemyvalentineno2, etc.

(Or #bemyvalentinealt1, #bemyvalentinealt2, if you use alt promtps)

the theme or specific prompt/s you chose - #love poems, #quote, etc.

fandom or oc - #stranger things, #original content, etc.

any trigger warnings/nsfw tags if needed

and then your own tags!

Only works tagged correctly will be reblogged to this page, so please take note!

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

Transcribed Prompt List:

Day 1: "But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." Because You Loved Me, Celine Dion | Love Poems

Day 2: "I want all of you, forever. You and me. Every day." A Thousand Years, Christina Perri | Growing Old Together

Day 3: "I fell in love with a world through her eyes." Ocean Eyes, Billie Eilish | Love at First Sight

Day 4: "I'd rather die tomorrow than live a hundred years without knowing you." Marry Me, Train | Wedding Vows

Day 5: "My love will keep me from being a lonely spirit." When I Look At You, Miley Cyrus | Long Distance

Day 6: "People do belong to each other, because that's the only chance that anyone's got for true happiness." Home, Edward Sharpe | First Love

Day 7: "It's so nice when you can sit with someone and not have to talk." Sweater Weather, The Neighbourhood | Snowed In

Day 8: "I never wish to be parted from you from this day on." Say You Won't Let Go, James Arthur | Love Letter

Day 9: "You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I'm grateful." Lay Me Down, Sam Smith | Widowed

Day 10: "Hold on, are you writing a song?" I Want To Write You A Song, One Direction | Love Songs

Day 11: "To me, you are perfect." Perfect, Ed Sheeran | Kissing in the Rain

Day 12: "History, huh? Bet we could make some." Love Story, Taylor Swift | Historical Romance

Day 13: "I wish I knew how to quit you." All of Me, John Legend | Making Up

Day 14: "You don't step in love, you fall in. Head over heels." I Will Always Love You, Whitney Houston | Valentine's Day

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

#bemyvalentine2024 #valentine's day #writing #fanfiction #art #art challenge #gifs #poems #poetry #writeblr #poetblr #artblr #please reblog #boost

[mikki-does-simp]

Words aren't worth shit. (Kuroiro Shihai x GN!reader)

surprise you guys, i came back from my grave for the kajillionth time! frankly, i'm slightly sick of interacting with almost of the MHA fandom, but my love for 1B seems to never ever waver, so i'll try my very best to stick to more longform fanfiction and post more-often so that the people who deserve it have actual content.

A/N: i wrote this in literally two adjacent blocks starting at 1AM and ending around 5 AM with a sleep from 4-4:30, so forgive any flow inconsistences or grammar/spelling mistakes because i say fuck the beta

edit: actually never mind next time i will appreciate a beta run more i left so many spaces that were just- *unfilled*

socially awkward kuroiro AND tactical manipulator kuroiro CAN co-exist, it just has to be written in a very specific way, though. despite that, with you, he feels like a cat covered in wet spaghetti, but like, in a good way.

Who the hell came up with the saying "a picture is worth a thousand words"? Or hell, who altered it to have it to relate an action? Kuroiro didn't really seem to convince himself of it, no matter how hard he tried. It wasn't like he was indifferent to works of art- after all, he considered himself a sort of artistic guy... but when it came to a flash, a picture in his mind, a memory- usually it only took up about thirteen words in his mind. He considered himself a writer. Dare he say a poet. He kept piles upon piles of journals of his writing, and where people could not suffice, pen and paper were his greatest confidants. As much as he liked pencils, pens were just- ironically more artistic; even if he had to scribble at the paper if he misspelled a word or accidentally placed the lettering way too close.

He clenched a few papers between his hands, skimming over the writing as he stood in wait for what might be a pinnacle moment of his life. There were too many mistakes in his mind- so many scribbles it seemed like a quarter of each page was just a section or a word, blacked out in ink. He sighed, inwardly admitting that staying up until two am in the morning writing this was a terrible idea it's not like the author is doing the EXACT same thing down to the hour, but he could just not wait. Thoughts seemed to be always running through his head at light speed, from dawn to dusk and in between his dreams like a sickness of his. This is when he started to pace around with the pages in his hand, having to really mentally prepare himself for what he set up on what seemed to be the first impromptu thought of his entire life so far.

Kuroiro had somehow deluded himself so hard that he decided that he was going to profess his feelings for you within the next moment. Or at the very least, his fond admiration for your pieces, large or small that create the entire puzzle. He had slipped a piece of plain notebook paper under your door, even; that's how casual he tried to seem about it, as it could mean a lot of different things under different connotations if you ask someone to meet you. It wasn't a fancy sort of greeting or letter like he would have spent countless hours imagining he would, but it would make due. His pen and paper were becoming restless in it's own right, sick of hearing the same thought in a different variant over and over and over again. He had decided to meet you about fifteen minutes before the dormitory curfew, as to both make it less inconvenient for you and to make sure he had an escape route if anything went wrong. Yet again, his mind seems to be in a race with everything around it, dreaming up every possibility. Every triumph, every pitfall. The churns in his stomach grew more intense as he began to doubt himself,

It didn't take too long for you to meet him, with the casually dressed notebook paper folded in one of your hands. You pocketed it, then closed the gap of distance between you and Kuroiro, standing in front of him with a curious look to the papers in his hand- and how he looked like how he was going to vomit up a hairball. It raised some eyebrows, sure; but you seemed to understand his nature- his mannerisms, his idiosyncrasies: you seemed to accept them as they were, with no complaints otherwise about who he was. Human. A breath of fresh air for a guy like him, really. He didn't even greet you properly for a moment, already seeming to clam up, enamored by your beauty. It took a couple seconds for him to actually remember why he brought the two of you here- but when he did, he slowly looked to the writing in front of him, starting to read it out. Unfortunately for you, it was incredibly difficult to decipher what he was actually saying- he used so many elusive synonyms that the average person wouldn't be familiar with in terms of linguistics, and he would often go back to read a part if he messed it up, or pause for a moment to try and figure out what he was trying to say himself. The more and more he talked, the more Kuroiro realized this the sole brainless idea he had in a very long time- at least in his book, so out of some sort of shame, he started getting quieter as he read. His posture crumpled up more than it was before, and he was mumbling so badly, that it was even hard for him to hear the words that were spewing out of his mouth as he tried to read back He dropped the small stack of papers, much to your confusion; then, much to his incredible embarrassment, he felt his legs start to buckle despite himself as he kneeled to the floor, covering his face with his hands and starting to mumble a little louder about how incredibly awkward this situation was and that you should just forget it ever happened. He couldn't anymore, everything seemed to catch up to him in his incredulity...

You kneeled down to the floor with him, starting to pick up the papers for him. His hand reflexively moved to instantly snatch the papers from you- to hide away and confide yet again in the caverns of pen and paper- but he stops himself, opting to ball his hand into a fist to do so as he starts on an attempt to quell his mild panicked breathing. He felt so... soppy. Dare he say even- pathetic in a way. It took a moment, but he eventually found the strength to look you in the eye, and they lock, the watercolor to his monochrome. You pick up the rest of the pages, and even if it is incredibly messy and out of order, you remember how he reached to grab them from you, and although it confused you on why he would do that, you respected him too much to pry; in a state where he was cracking on all sides of a sphere, where he looked so oddly vulnerable. If you weren't too preoccupied with being concerned about the way he was acting, it would have felt good, about how he seemed to trust you being within this state

"Hey..." you interjected, slowly starting to offer both your held papers; and your free outstretched hand over to Kuroiro, "Take the time you need. You'll find a way to say what you need to say... and I'll flag you down with signals so it won't- get lost within the waters."

You had sort of an idea what was happening- but you could ask for more context later, as Kuroiro seemed a little too nervewracked to answer your questions. He took the both of you off guard, as he shuffled a little closer, his own arms beginning to outstretch as he simply took your simple outstretched gesture to wrap his arms around you in a shakey but gentle embrace. In that very moment, he couldn't believe it but... no words could describe what he felt. He almost lost himself in trying to figure it out, but at the same time, you quelled the tide all the same as you held each-other there.

#mha 1b #bhna x reader #class 1b #mha #bhna #shihai kuroiro #x reader fluff #fanfic #writing #x reader #bhna fanfiction #bhna imagine #mikki fluffpost

[asexualastarion]

ref/expression sheets for two NPCs from my upcoming dnd campaign! everyone say hi to the kingkiller twins! I talked about them a little in the tags on this post, but their full lore is under the cut!

CARRION AND VALENTINE MY BELOVED.......

ok so carrion and valentine have always always always been each other’s biggest supporters in everything. for much of their lives, the only thing they had was each other, so the two are metaphorically attached at the hip. they’re attached in a literal sense, too- the two have actual twin telepathy, and are able to read each other’s thoughts/emotions and feel each other’s pain.

carrion, despite being the “younger” twin, has always been protective of and felt responsible for his brother. they were orphaned in childhood after their parents died in a circus accident, so their childhood was a bit hard. even ignoring his seemingly never-ending illnesses and pains, valentine has always been a bit strange; ever since he was a child, he has been plagued by visions from what was at first an unknown, otherworldly force. as he grew older, the visions grew stronger, and when he and carrion were thirteen, their foster mother threw valentine out on the streets, wanting nothing to do with his strangeness and growing frustrated by the financial burden that his sickliness caused. ever loyal to his brother, carrion refused to stay in a home where valentine was not welcome, and the two spent the rest of their childhood as street urchins. carrion, a born troublemaker with a silver tongue and a sharp mind, soon grew into one of the best con artists the underground had ever seen. and don’t be fooled by valentine’s frailness and kind eyes-- he a mischief maker himself, and would more often than not play a key role in his brother’s schemes. 

by adulthood, carrion and valentine were living rather comfortably on the coin they “earned” from their various schemes and heists. however, despite the niche the twins found as con artists, something still bothered them: valentine’s visions were growing more and more frequent, and whoever was sending them had even tried to speak through his body on more than one occasion, which caused valentine to seize and choke out half formed sentences as he writhed on the ground. determined to uncover which god or entity was trying to communicate with them, the two eventually came to a shocking revelation: the visions were coming from the long-lost sun god, who had been all but erased from history after they had abandoned humanity one thousand years ago, plunging the world into eternal night and an endless winter. based on valentine’s visions, the twins have come to believe that the sun god is not dead or purposefully absent, but rather asleep and in need of rescuing. labeled fools at best and heretics at worst, the two began to preach their beliefs and eventually started a small but devout cult called the Slumbering Dawn. in my setting, the gods’ chosen champions take on the surname st [god], hence valentine’s last name-- he doesn’t know the name of the god he’s championing, so dawn will have to do. valentine is the figurehead of the cult, but carrion is the the leader and orchestrater-- he’s basically applying the skills he used as a con artist but, like, for a good cause now. which brings us to the start of the campaign! the party will work with the Slumbering Dawn to bring the sun back, but spoiler alert! turns out the sun was a little bit evil the whole time and put asleep by the moon for the good of humanity. oopsie! i plan on the final boss fight to be against the sun, who has been awakened by the well-meaning party and who has forcibly possessed valentine’s body. unfortunately in order to kill the sun they’ll have to kill valentine, but what’s a dnd campaign without a little major character death? 

personality wise, carrion is much more outgoing than his brother. he’s pretty much the lovable rogue stereotype: charismatic, quick-witted, slutty, etc. he’s a nice guy, though, despite being a con artist and the leader of a cult. he’s also a hopeless romantic, and head over heels in love with another NPC, ruthie st cyr (yes i stole her name). he loves his brother, and will always be his biggest supporter, and is fully dedicated to the cult, but part of him is a bit insecure about the fact that he isn’t the one who is beloved by a god; does god hate him? is there something wrong with him? is he impure? oh also he’s trans <3 

valentine is shy and reserved, but very kind. he’s just as mischievous and quick-witted as his brother, but a lot more subtle about it. he’s very happy to be chosen by the sun god-- for most of his life he was an outcast and felt like a burden, but now he finally has something to make his life have worth.  he’s still insecure about his position though, and part of him will always worry. is he good enough? does he deserve this? can he really bring back the sun? also he’s gay <3

above all, family is the most important thing to both of them, and they would go to the ends of the earth and back for each other. they may squabble and see the world a bit differently, but they have absolutely nothing but love for each other!

carrion is a mastermind rogue and valentine is a light domain cleric! 

#I love carrion but why did i make him so detailed...babe you take too long to draw <3 #valentine's face got wonky in some of these but i dont want to spend any more time on this lol #anyway tieflings hot #kingkiller twins #carrion kingkiller #valentine st dawn #dnd #my shitty art

[sunnunderthesun]

Fiction: Another Job Interview

In an overcrowded bus, Robi’s demeanour stands out. Anxiety appears to swallow him up. The fine arts graduate is on his way to take his eighth job interview that year after being rejected by uncountable employers in the last thirteen years. He gets off the bus when it stops in front of a private office building and heads towards its open gate. As he’s about to enter the premises, he feels lightheaded because his blood sugar level starts going down.

Three well-dressed men, standing at the gate, approach him. One of them asks Robi, “Here for an interview?” A shaky Robi nods. “Well, you must pay us a thousand rupees to be able to get in,” explains another. Robi rummages through his backpack, takes out a small bottle of sugar cubes and chugs them down with water. “Young man, are you listening to us? Pay us the thousand rupees and we’ll be out of your way,” says the third stranger. Regaining his vigour, Robi begins to explain to the men, “You have no idea how desperately I need this job. I am stone broke and in debt to a couple of relatives who funded my medical expenses five years ago. I don’t have any siblings to help me with anything. I beg you, let me go.” But the men remain unmoved by his story and tell him to give them the money or forget about the interview. Robi phones his friend who reluctantly sends the men money through a popular internet banking service. Robi is then let in for the interview. The receptionist at the office directs him upstairs to the boss’ chamber where the interview has been scheduled to take place. The boss, a lady in her early fifties who reeks of unimaginable wealth, welcomes him in and asks him to close the door behind him. There is no one else present in that sophisticated room besides her and Robi.

“You don’t seem nervous,” says the lady with a grin.

“No. I have been through this many times before. May I sit?”

“Yes, you may.”

She then takes two minutes to examine Robi’s physical appearance as he sits there in front of her, observing an awkward silence. “I have brought some of my best works with me today. Do you want to see them?”

She only smiles which Robi takes as a yes. He places before her his weighty file of traditional paintings done by him over the years and some photographs of his sculptures.

She clumsily runs through those and asks Robi, “What makes you think that I will be impressed by your drawings when I have talented digital artists producing attractive illustrations anytime I need?”

“Well… I believe digital art cannot ever replace traditional art’s aesthetic value. I think you agree with me on this because in your job advertisement you’ve specifically asked for traditional artists to apply. You definitely can’t find my kind of efficiency in a purely digital artist.”

“Your answer’s not too bad. For your information, I am an award-winning digital artist who just hasn’t found any inspiration to create new artwork in a while… Anyway, I was wondering how much you know about my company to be willing to work for it.”

“I read that this magazine was started over twenty years ago and it has been quite successful so far in producing meaningful articles and pictures that a lot of people care about.”

“Three years ago, one of our former female employees posted on her social media accounts that she faced sexism here. Were you aware of that?”

“No. I wasn’t.”

“You should have been. It is important to research into the place and people you are willing to associate yourself with. But, now that you know, what do you think of it?”

“I… I think… I don’t know about her experiences here. But, if hired, I will do my best to… to make sure that my behaviour or conduct never becomes the reason for anyone’s unhappiness in the workplace.”

“I like you. I do.”

“Thank you, ma’am! All I need is an opportunity to prove how valuable I can be to your company.” “Mr. Robi De, why don’t we go through the details of the responsibilities I’d like you to have here?”

“Oh… you have no idea how much I have been looking forward to this!”

For the next two hours, the boss slowly explains to him the duties of an illustrator in her company and enlightens him on its history.

Half an hour before lunch break, she tells a hopeful Robi, “I doubt you will be able to perform all these tasks and become an indispensable employee. I suddenly feel like you need to come to me after you have gained more work experiences elsewhere.”

“No, ma’am, you have to believe me. Just give me a chance to show you how much…”

“Look, young man, you have only worked as a freelance artist so far. You have no idea how things are done in a big workplace like ours. I cannot let anything… anything go wrong here. How much do you know about the corporate culture anyway?”

“This position I have applied for is supposed to be an entry-level one requiring minimum work experience… Did you… did you expect a newbie to know it all?”

“This room has only one door through which we enter and exit, and it’s right behind you. Thank you for being here. I hope you succeed someday.”

Why did you waste so much of my time just to tell me all about this damned place? Why didn’t you reject me earlier? I could have gone home to my sick old parents who need me often! I have left them alone with a new caregiver to come here for this interview, and now after tricking me into keeping you company for three hours, you’re telling me I am not needed here!”

The lady exhibits a calm smile during Robi’s rampage before heading out for lunch. Robi remains in her room for over an hour until she returns.

“I don’t pay people for keeping me company,” said she upon seeing the resolute man standing at her desk fifteen minutes past the lunch break.

“How much more do you need? Do I have to bribe you for this job?” asks a desperate Robi.

The lady sits down in her chair quietly, sips water from her bottle, and wipes her lips with a handkerchief.

“What do you mean?”

“Weren’t the men who made me shell out a thousand bucks earlier yours?”

“I have no idea about what you’re saying, young man. Listen, you need to leave before you get yourself into trouble.”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do?” Robi, furious, inches closer to her.

“The chief minister’s nephew is a dear friend of mine. All I need to tell him is that you tried to rape me in my own office because I didn’t hire you.”

Upon hearing those words, Robi instantly breaks into a cold sweat and his heart rate rises. He can’t utter another word. Struggling to breathe, Robi grabs his phone from his pocket to dial some number in vain. The boss, still comfortable in her cushioned chair, watches him drop unconscious on the carpet in front of her.

Then she thoughtfully opens Microsoft Paint on her iPad. Using only her fingers, she attempts to draw the unmoving man to perfection.

Copyright ©️ Briksha 2021

#story #original story #creative writing #fiction #short stories

[ablackburnarts102-02]

Process Blog Four

Reading Responses:

Chapter Eleven of the textbook reading (Becoming a Graphic and Digital Designer: A Guide to Careers in Design, by Steven Heller, pages 186-203) is about understanding change in the world of graphic design. As someone who has grown up with digital media and design, it's interesting to think about it as something new that people would reject, however I can definitely connect the idea to people in my life who reject the use of technologies such as social media. I like how the textbook mentioned that some people considered it, "nothing more than advance production tools," as I think that is the best way to think of digital design. While it makes it more accessible to people without design knowledge, you do still need those skills in order to make something effective that uses digital tools in order to enhance the product rather than relying on it to create the product that otherwise couldn't have been created. The textbook also discussed how there isn't much that graphic design can't improve in some way, which I agree with though it is fun to consider cases where this might not be the case. One such example is furniture that is made to be very visually appealing and artistic, while leaving the function of the piece less than optimal. There have been many chairs designed with beautiful curves and bold colored plastics that are uncomfortable to sit in, as well as tables and shelves with similar traits that aren't flat enough to serve as useful surfaces.

Chapter Twelve of the textbook reading (pages 204-219) is about original and unique design. This chapter begins by tying to describe and define 'eccentrics'. It goes on to say that, "you cannot replicate what they do - nor would you want to," which does not seem to be accurate to the example images that follow within the chapter. Not only do plenty of the works look familiar in style (such as Charles Anderson's poster designs and the art style that Nick Ace directs in 'Chapter 48: Doom Lyrics'), but these 'eccentric' designers are clearly of some renown if they've been interviewed and used as examples in this design textbook. Who wouldn't want to replicate what they do? There is nothing wrong of course with recognizing the unique talents of designers, especially if they might drive and inspire design trends, but I feel as though this explanation of eccentric is off.

Chapter Thirteen of the textbook reading (pages 220-229) is about transitioning and new opportunities. The section at the beginning of the chapter discusses how with the shifting and changing of language, graphics will be able to, "speak deeper than words". I definitely agree with this sentiment, but I think that it's ironic that it feels like a rewording of, "a picture is worth a thousand words," as that simple phrase gets the meaning across very well, especially for originating about one-hundred years ago (found with a quick google search). There's also an argument to be made that graphics tend to depend on cultural and societal symbols, which can be just as prone to change and evolution as language is.

Chapter Fourteen of the textbook reading (pages 232-245) is about interactive design. The beginning of the textbook discusses how interactive design leaves much more of an impact on people in today's society, especially since they consume hundreds or thousands of images, posts, videos, etc. every week or even day. I completely agree with this, and I think that it is important to consider how to make things more memorable. Making the target audience a part of the experience is a wonderful way to do this, and as an example part art or design, interacting with fans on social media inspires them to keep reacting and make a more personal connection with a creator. Back to interactive design, I always find the experience of moving through websites with animations that follow the mouse and graphics that shift as you scroll are typically more visually appealing than those without.

Reflection:

The class project that we are currently working on is about making logos for fictional characters. I feel very comfortable doing this project, as I've done logo design for previous digital art and design classes. I was very excited to read the project requirements and see that characters from the movie Beetlejuice were an option. Beetlejuice is one of my favorite movies from my childhood, and I have a preference for the "strange and unusual". Lydia Deetz was my first choice because she is my favorite character from the movie (and one of my favorite characters in general) and because I love Winona Ryder. My second choice was Betelgeuse, because he has a lot of typical imagery that could be used such as his green hair and pinstriped suit. Another reason I chose these two characters is because they are the natural choice to choose if picking characters from Beetlejuice. I started off with thumbnails for Lydia based on just a bit of looking her character up on fan-made wikis just to jog my memory on some traits for her that I could be inspired by. When I moved on to Betelgeuse, I used the sheet provided that was mean to be lined with traits and attributes of the character in order to try and spark ideas to combine them. I then redrew the best of these ideas larger in my sketchbook next to my sketches for Lydia.

So far I have picked favorites for both characters. I chose the raven skull holding a quill for Lydia (to represent her love for poetry and the macabre) and a combination of two for Betelgeuse: the triple "BEETLEJUICE" as well as the beetle headed suit. I have already made the font and many color options for the "BEETLEJUICE" text.

[twomillionbees]

tgcf chapter 196 be like

(obv based off this iconic comic)

#ghsdhfadfhsdfj i can't believe i did this #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #xie lian #should i even tag this as #beesart #i guess we're going with it #it was surprisingly difficult to find the original comic #first i found a repost with fifty thousand notes #the artist's post only has thirteen thousand :( #beesmemes #gonna start tagging my shitposts

[girlactionfigure]

Why I’m Leaving Mumford & Sons

I loved those first tours. Bouncing off a sweaty stage in an Edinburgh catacomb we then had to get to a gig in Camden by lunch the next day. We couldn’t fit all four of us and Ted’s double-bass into the VW Polo. I think it was Ben who drew the short-straw and had to follow by train with his keyboard. I remember blitzing it down the M6 through the night, the lads asleep beside me. We made it but my voice sadly didn’t, completely shot by exhaustion, I had to mime my harmonies. Being in Mumford & Sons was exhilarating.

Every gig was its own adventure. Every gig its own story. Be it odysseys through the Scottish Islands, or soapbox shows in Soho. Where would we sleep that night? Hostels in Fort William, pub floors in Ipswich, even the Travelodge in Carlisle maintains a sort of charm in my mind. We saw the country and then, as things miraculously grew, the world. All the while doing what we loved. Music. And not just any music. These songs meant something. They felt important to me. Songs with the message of hope and love. I was surrounded by three supremely talented song-writers and Marcus, our singer with a one-in-a-million voice. A voice that can compel both a field of 80,000 and the intimacy of a front room. Fast-forward ten years and we were playing those same songs every night in arenas, flying first-class, staying in luxury hotels and being paid handsomely to do so. I was a lucky boy.

On stage, to my left Ted, a roaring bear, with his double-bass flying high above him. To my right Ben, with his unparalleled passion for music, pounding at the keys. And Marcus leading us with all the might of a hurricane or all the tenderness of a breeze, depending on what the song demanded. What a blessing it was to be so close to such talent as theirs. It will be with immense pride that I look back at my time with Mumford & Sons. A legacy of songs that I believe will stand the test of ages. What we’ve achieved together has vastly exceeded the wildest fantasies of this shitkicker from Mortlake.

Who in their right mind would willingly walk away from this?

It turns out I would. And as you might imagine it’s been no easy decision.

At the beginning of March I tweeted to American journalist Andy Ngo, author of the New York Times Bestseller, Unmasked. “Congratulations @MrAndyNgo. Finally had the time to read your important book. You’re a brave man”. Posting about books had been a theme of my social-media throughout the pandemic. I believed this tweet to be as innocuous as the others. How wrong I turned out to be.

Over the course of 24 hours it was trending with tens of thousands of angry retweets and comments. I failed to foresee that my commenting on a book critical of the Far-Left could be interpreted as approval of the equally abhorrent Far-Right.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Thirteen members of my family were murdered in the concentration camps of the Holocaust. My Grandma, unlike her cousins, aunts and uncles, survived. She and I were close. My family knows the evils of fascism painfully well. To say the least. To call me “fascist” was ludicrous beyond belief.

I’ve had plenty of abuse over the years. I’m a banjo player after all. But this was another level. And, owing to our association, my friends, my bandmates, were getting it too. It took me more than a moment to understand how distressing this was for them.

Despite being four individuals we were, in the eyes of the public, a unity. Furthermore it’s our singer’s name on the tin. That name was being dragged through some pretty ugly accusations, as a result of my tweet. The distress brought to them and their families that weekend I regret very much. I remain sincerely sorry for that. Unintentionally, I had pulled them into a divisive and totemic issue.

Emotions were high. Despite pressure to nix me they invited me to continue with the band. That took courage, particularly in the age of so called “cancel culture”. I made an apology and agreed to take a temporary step back.

Rather predictably another viral mob came after me, this time for the sin of apologising. Then followed libellous articles calling me “right-wing” and such. Though there’s nothing wrong with being conservative, when forced to politically label myself I flutter between “centrist”, “liberal” or the more honest “bit this, bit that”. Being labeled erroneously just goes to show how binary political discourse has become. I had criticised the “Left”, so I must be the “Right”, or so their logic goes.

Why did I apologise?

“Rub your eyes and purify your heart — and prize above all else in the world those who love you and who wish you well.” — Aleksander Solzhenitsyn once wrote. In the mania of the moment I was desperate to protect my bandmates. The hornets’ nest that I had unwittingly hit had unleashed a black-hearted swarm on them and their families. I didn’t want them to suffer for my actions, they were my priority.

Secondly, I was sincerely open to the fact that maybe I did not know something about the author or his work. “Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak,” Churchill once said, “courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen”. And so I listened.

I have spent much time reflecting, reading and listening. The truth is that my commenting on a book that documents the extreme Far-Left and their activities is in no way an endorsement of the equally repugnant Far-Right. The truth is that reporting on extremism at the great risk of endangering oneself is unquestionably brave. I also feel that my previous apology in a small way participates in the lie that such extremism does not exist, or worse, is a force for good.

So why leave the band?

On the eve of his leaving to the West, Solzhenitsyn published an essay titled ‘Live Not By Lies’. I have read it many times now since the incident at the start of March. It still profoundly stirs me.

“And he who is not sufficiently courageous to defend his soul — don’t let him be proud of his ‘progressive’ views, and don’t let him boast that he is an academician or a people’s artist, a distinguished figure or a general. Let him say to himself: I am a part of the herd and a coward. It’s all the same to me as long as I’m fed and kept warm.”

For me to speak about what I’ve learnt to be such a controversial issue will inevitably bring my bandmates more trouble. My love, loyalty and accountability to them cannot permit that. I could remain and continue to self-censor but it will erode my sense of integrity. Gnaw my conscience. I’ve already felt that beginning.

The only way forward for me is to leave the band. I hope in distancing myself from them I am able to speak my mind without them suffering the consequences. I leave with love in my heart and I wish those three boys nothing but the best. I have no doubt that their stars will shine long into the future. I will continue my work with Hong Kong Link Up and I look forward to new creative projects as well as speaking and writing on a variety of issues, challenging as they may be.

Winston Marshall

[raleighcarrera]

falling

platinum | raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian)

a little while ago i posted about the idea of a soulmate au where the first words raleigh & cadence say to each other are tattooed on them their whole lives, and this... is that. (for @platinumweekend ❤️)

tags: @choicesarehard ; @empressazura; @emomoustache ; @natesewell ; @zigtheeortega ; @pixeljazzy ; @brycemaloliver ; @grigori-girl ; @dulceghernandez ; @bitchloveskcbaseball ; @withbeautyandrage 

~10.5k words | T

i.

the words appear in looping script on his thirteenth birthday, right on time. they curve along the inside of his bicep, innocently punctuated. what’s your name?

“you got lucky,” one of his older cousins tells him, later, when everyone in his family comes by for cake and to ooh and aah over his new tattoo, “you’ll be able to hide that with a shirt or a jacket easily.”

but raleigh sleeps shirtless every night for the next two years, even when it’s cold, so that the words are the last thing he sees with his head pillowed on his arm before he falls asleep, dreaming of the nameless, faceless person who will one day say them, wondering what their voice might sound like when they do.

ii.

she has a more difficult go of it.

being a thirteen year old girl would be miserable enough without the added pressure of the words that practically feel broadcast across her forehead, most of the time. everyone at school teases her constantly and ruthlessly: say something funny, cadence. go on. tell us a joke!

so it’s difficult not to resent the two words scrawled lazily across her collarbone and the person attached to them, especially in the mornings before school when she’s angrily rearranging her neckline and jewelry in the mirror while the bus idles outside.

very funny. she isn’t, really. she’s plenty of things -- determined and passionate and sensitive, definitely, but... no one’s ever found her particularly funny, before.

and no one seems to understand just how much the expectation of having to be funny, one day, is weighing on her, not even her parents, when she finally works up the courage to squeak out, “but how am i supposed to know what i should say?”

her mom laughs indulgently, like she’s already said something funny. her stomach sinks further.

“oh, sweetheart,” she tells her, “don’t worry, it won’t matter. you just will.”

iii.

people ask him about it. a lot.

it gets difficult to keep it a secret as things change around him, but raleigh’s careful to avoid slip-ups and paparazzi photos and he doesn’t say a word about it in interviews, even when he’s asked directly. he’s never seen without short sleeves on, at the very least, and he doesn’t even tell blair and cameron about it.

he sort of wishes he had, though, because as his life turns upside down and he adapts to a new country with a new set of rules and an industry that makes his head spin most of the time it starts to feel more and more confusing, those three words -- what’s your name?

everywhere he goes, thousands of girls blocking the street scream it at him. so how is it possible that whoever’s waiting to meet him doesn’t already know it?

and what does that mean for how the rest of his life is going to turn out? 

what if all of this -- the fame and the money and the notoriety -- is fleeting, and he’s only a few short years from being completely washed up and irrelevant? what if the day he’s meant to meet his person is so far away that he’ll be completely out of the spotlight, by then, with sunset skatepark playing reunion tours and him having spent most of his life alone?

it’s a lot of pressure, for someone who’s already working their way through such a serious adjustment, and most of the time it’s dizzying, thinking about the fact that there’s someone out there who’s supposed to be perfect for him, when everyone he meets seems determined to forget every word they know other than yes, so they can suck up to him as much as possible.

his teenage years fly by in a whirlwind of mistakes and regrets. there’s things he would’ve never dreamed would come his way, like world tours and more money than he can count and so many girls who know everything about him before they even sit down to dinner, but there’s more than that, too.

there’s all the ways the industry weakens his trust until it’s gone, all the people who try to use him for what he can do for them, all the times he stumbles until he finally learns to distance himself by cultivating a persona, by leaning into all the expectations of raleigh carrera and creating something so outlandish it doesn’t hurt as much when disaster follows him around because it’s supposed to.

he watches everything that surrounds him turn fake and plastic and puts his energy only into his music, coasting on the rest. the days are less exciting than when he first joined the band at fifteen; he’s a solo artist, now, and most of the time, he’s just trying to get through.

but chaos continues to follow him and eventually his notoriety is inescapable. his first solo album is self-titled and he somehow manages to get a trademark on the word raleigh, as if the name is now more his than anything that ever belonged to the state of north carolina, and part of him sort of expects the words stamped on his arm to change, once he hits one-hundred million followers on his social channels.

they never do, though, and when he’s alone, and the veneer he’s built up for everyone else fades away, he can’t help but to be fascinated by this person who just wants an answer to the question no one else would ever dare ask him.

iv.

college isn’t exactly the fresh start she was hoping it’d be.

she was a loser in high school and things don’t get much better for her even now that she’s with ‘her people’ at a performing arts university she can barely afford, even with two part-time jobs. 

shane is across the country at a proper state school with parties and a social life and lots of friends who aren’t her, and she’s failing her improv class, proving that she isn’t actually very funny at all. 

boys continue to not notice her and patrons in bars continue to turn away from her one-woman performance, her old acoustic guitar the only constant in a life that feels utterly, unbelievably pointless, most of the time.

it’s like she’s drifting through the days, putting her time in at college in the hopes that it’ll fortify her for what’s next -- her big break, the discovery that’ll get her out of that shitty small town she’s been trying to escape her entire life. she writes hundreds of songs about how lost she feels and hates every single one, dreaming of a time when things might be different and she doesn’t have to second-guess every single one of her decisions.

she doesn’t have much of a love life and tries not to think about that, either.

the person on the other side of those two words stuck on her collarbone is probably looking for someone self-confident, who knows who they are and is comfortable with that. they’re probably expecting to meet someone who has their life together, who, at the very least, has a plan.

they’re probably not expecting a talentless nobody screwup like her, someone who tries as hard as she can yet never seems to make anything work.

things don’t turn around after graduation, either. sure, she manages to find an apartment in a building that’s nice enough and uses the last of her savings on the deposit and trying to furnish it, but it’s only a few weeks of trying and failing to secure a regular paying gig performing before she’s back at smoothie star again, begging for her old job back.

and there’s nothing that makes her feel more like a failure than working the same shifts she had in high school. 

as she hums along to the radio on a random tuesday afternoon when the store is dead and there’s nothing to blend, she wonders what mr.-or-mrs. very funny would think if they walked in and saw her here -- twenty-three years old and flat broke, with a dead-end job and a one-bedroom apartment all she has to show for her very expensive and very useless bachelor’s degree.

that, and a notebook full of half-finished songs about relationships she could only ever dream about and an escape from the miserable small town she lives in that feels farther away with every day that passes.

she can’t imagine they’d be very impressed.

v.

raleigh’s life gets monotonous very quickly. the music takes a backseat to the scandals and for a while there’s a predictable pattern of cause trouble, clean up image, rinse and repeat.

there are girls in between the cycles to help him pass the time. some he likes well enough and some he despises, but for the most part his management gives their recommendations and he agrees and makes awkward conversation for an hour or two over brunch until it’s time to go trash something again.

things get particularly bad after one minor cruise ship hijacking incident. 

but in his defense, no one ever told him that breaking into the harbor and joy riding was a first-degree felony, worsened by the fact that he’d just so happened to crash the boat into the pier while he was trying to dock it. 

at least he’d been sober.

though a monumental fuck up like this felt sort of inevitable; everyone who knew him probably figured it was only a matter of time before he went too far. how could he not when he was always chasing the next high?

still, the image rehab tour that follows is far from what he’d call enjoyable. he has to cut off all his hair and play nice at industry parties and waste time standing around being seen at charity events he winds up just cutting checks for instead of helping out at.

on top of the miserable community service comes the pr bullshit his team so loves -- dozens of tv appearances back-to-back where he’s herded around all day like cattle, in and out of green rooms with crappy coffee and bad catering.

he has no idea that showing up to be a judge on one in a million is going to change his life. hungover and running late, he barely even makes it to the taping of the semi-finals, slinking inside the concert hall in middle-of-nowhere, usa with a headache and some choice words for whoever thought this was the best way to clean up his image.

fortunately, raleigh manages to make his way inside virtually unnoticed. his phone is buzzing angrily in his pocket -- undoubtedly his manager trying to encourage him to hair and makeup or some other absurdity -- but he ignores it in favor of ducking back behind the line near the auditorium doors, only barely catching the last few words of some catty confrontation between two contestants as he goes.

as one of the girls stomps away, he sees the other’s shoulders slump from behind. “guess i’m not making any friends,” she mutters.

it’s clearly said to no one -- not even to herself, really -- yet for some reason, he can’t stop himself from responding. “where i come from, that’s a good thing.”

the girl’s shoulders straighten, but she still doesn’t turn around. “i’m not trying to succeed at the cost of others.”

raleigh smirks, leaning back against the wall beside his guitar case. “you do realize you’re at a competition show, right?”

“of course, but...” her hair ruffles with what sounds like a huff. she’s still not facing him, staring off at where the other girl she’d been talking to had run away. “that doesn’t mean i’m not rooting for everyone here to share their music with the world.”

“what a sweet sentiment,” raleigh drawls sarcastically, almost feeling a little bad for her and her naivety. this poor girl is going to be eaten alive. “it won’t last.”

her body tenses, her shoulders tightening again. he can almost see smoke start to pour from her ears before she spins suddenly on her heel to face him. 

whatever sharp retort had been on the tip of her tongue gets swallowed with a blink as soon as their eyes meet. something like electricity crackles in the space between them, strengthening the invisible pull he’d felt when he first stopped behind her. instead, she only asks, “what’s your name?”

vi.

the man in front of her snorts. “very funny.”

a smile tugs at her lips. “very funny, that’s a weird name.” this is unlike her -- the quick comeback, the flirting. usually being face-to-face with a guy as good looking as the one talking to her now made her want to wither away and die, but something about the stranger standing before her sets her instantly at ease. “so, are you gonna tell me, or not?”

now it’s his turn to blink at her. a hand lifts to rub at his jaw. “huh. you really don’t know who i am, do you?”

cadence’s eyes narrow as she assess him. there is something vaguely familiar about that crooked grin, she’s sure of it. 

at the very least, it’s an excuse to stare at him, and she does, moving her eyes slowly over the tattoos poking out over his jacket collar, the line of stubble on his sharp jaw, the glint of mischief in his eyes.

her helpless gaping is interrupted by a sudden shrill scream. “oh. my. god! is that raleigh carrera?!”

everything clicks at once. as a wild group of girls corner him, she realizes where she’s seen that smile before -- on just about every tabloid cover known to man, plastered all over convenience stores and the internet with headlines about his latest bender. in fact, she’s pretty sure he was just in the news for something similar -- crashing a yacht or something else ridiculous like that, something that only someone as rich as raleigh carrera could have accomplished. 

then she realizes what he’d said to her, as soon as she’d turned to look him in the eyes. very funny. 

her heart stops. all she can do is stare wide-eyed at him as he dispels the girls clamoring for a selfie, snapping back to the present when he waves one large hand in front of her face. 

“sorry -- what?”

“i said, what’s your name? it only seems fair, now that you know mine, and all.”

“cadence,” she answers numbly, “i’m -- um, i’m used to your hair being longer.”

“cadence,” raleigh repeats, smiling at her, “so you do know who i am.”

“what do the magazines call you again? r&b’s time bomb? puerto rico’s hottest export? you’re kind of notorious.” she blinks at him, then admits, “i’ve heard your songs.”

“seen the tabloid covers too, eh?” the expression on his face suggests he’s almost proud of them.

this is surreal.

“didn’t you crash a yacht or something?” she asks, brain whirring into overdrive as she tries to process what’s happening. he doesn’t seem to have realized it yet, which gives her a moment to gather her thoughts, something that feels impossible when she can’t push the way he’d scoffed very funny out of her mind. 

“or something. insurance paid out a couple million in property damage, but...” raleigh trails off, brow suddenly furrowing. he stares at her silently for a beat too long, then slowly turns a dull red. “hey, what’d you say earlier, again?”

cadence wets her dry lips, trying not to panic. stay calm, she silently coaches herself. raleigh carrera is not your long-awaited soulmate and you are not doing this in line to audition for one in a million. “i said -- what’s your name? and then you said...”

oh god, this is happening. her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she fidgets with the neckline of her top, tugging it to the side so raleigh can see the two words on her collarbone. 

“very funny,” he mutters, “oh, jesus fucking christ. you can’t be serious.”

“me?” she demands, “you’re the one who --”

“next up,” calls a voice suddenly, cutting sharply through their argument, “contestant #9,276.”

her blood runs cold as she realizes that’s the number she’s wearing pinned to her shirt. she can feel herself start to sweat; how the fuck is she supposed to perform like this? she wants to throw up. why did this have to happen to her now? this was her shot -- her one fucking chance --

“hey, easy.” there’s suddenly two strong hands on either side of her shoulders, and she startles as raleigh stares at her from up close, closer than he was just a moment ago. “relax, okay? you’re gonna be fine. you’ve got this.”

“but --” she starts, then realizes her mind is racing too quickly to even articulate what she wants to say. she settles for shaking her head, eyes wide and panicked. “i can’t just -- oh my god, i’m going to throw up.”

“here,” raleigh directs, “take my guitar. prince gave it to me as a birthday present.”

prince?! she mouths hysterically to herself, as he flips the latch on his case open and pulls out the instrument. “how is this supposed to help me?”

“just trust me,” he says, giving her a gentle nudge towards the auditorium, “now go.”

she does, stumbling forward with the most expensive piece of equipment she’s ever held in her hands in her life alongside her, drawing in a deep breath as she makes her way onto the stage.

she can do this.

everything else will have to come after.

vii.

the thing is -- she’s talented. exceptionally so. 

he can tell she’s a little nervous, but maybe that’s just because he’s used to looking out for that sort of thing; he could probably recognize it more easily than the average person would. it probably has nothing to do with who they are, how he notices the nuances in her body language...

her belt is impressive. her voice is stunning, clear and uniquely melodic. his guitar looks spectacular in her hands, and cadence plays it like she’s been practicing on it her entire life. 

he tries his best to look nonchalant, feet kicked up onto the seat in front of him, but when she locks eyes with him from the stage he knows he hasn’t succeeded. raleigh’s breath catches, and he stares back at her, transfixed by the way her dainty hands cradle the neck of the guitar and strum the strings, how her lips purse around the long, emotional high note at the end of the song’s chorus.

she’s really very pretty. 

he’d probably be lying to himself if he said it doesn’t make him a little bit jealous and uncomfortable, watching how she and avery fawn over each other when she’s finished. he’s probably a much better suited match for her, clean cut and pristine as he is. 

he wonders if she’s disappointed that it’s him -- that it’s now, when she’s clearly on the cusp of something great all on her own.

it’s a lot to think about, and so he dips out of the auditorium before she finishes up, rushing outside with his heart pounding. it’s not until he’s halfway through the crumpled pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket that raleigh starts to relax even an iota, and of course that’s when the stage door he’d left propped swings open wide and cadence’s sneakers hit the asphalt beside his boots.

“uh, you can’t just leave me with this thing,” she says, apropos of nothing, and as he stares at her he realizes she’s talking about his guitar, which she’s holding in one hand like it’s a dead fish. “this costs more than everything in my apartment combined, i’m sure.”

he shakes his head at her, laughing as his fingers flick ash from the cigarette he’s holding. “no way -- you should keep it. you two looked perfect together.”

she hesitates, looking down at the instrument again. he can see in her eyes that she’s torn; it’s obvious she knows the right thing to do is to refuse a generous gift from a stranger, but she wants to keep it, and already his mind is racing as he considers what else he could give her that would excite her like that -- a private flight, a tour of his penthouse, a million dollars. 

“are you sure?” cadence asks, without looking at him, and the hesitancy in her voice makes him realize how unsure she really is. she’s the one who’s wondering if he’s disappointed in her.

he licks his suddenly dry lips and drops what’s left of his cigarette to the ground, finding he doesn’t actually need the rest of it, anymore. “positive.”

viii.

they don’t actually get to spend a lot of time together, while she’s filming. she has to focus and it seems like she’s always busy, somehow -- not that she sees raleigh very often in the first place.

the days are spent rehearsing with avery and cramming in as much mentoring as possible, and when she can pull herself away from fiona’s lessons on image to get home at a reasonable hour she collapses into bed pretty much immediately, out like a light from the whirlwind of the day and hardly even aware enough to dream.

but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about him. she does, especially on the rare occasions she manages to catch a glimpse of raleigh walking around in the studio, or on one memorable evening she stays late in the auditorium to bang on the piano keys of the beautiful, enviable baby grand on set and startles to find him leaning in the doorway, watching her play.

it’s all a blur and wildly difficult to process; just when she thinks she has a grip on things she remembers the private moments she’s had with raleigh and her emotions tumble to pieces again as she lets the weight of the implications of what’s going on between them crush her completely.

one moment sticks out on her as being particularly worrisome, insofar as how it bodes for the rest of her life. 

it feels like something significant from the moment raleigh offers to help her warm up; they’ve hardly had a moment alone together in days and she still has absolutely no idea how she’s supposed to talk to him or what she should say, but for some reason the conversation flows easily and she hardly has to think about the (no doubt incredibly stupid-sounding) words coming out of her mouth.

“you’re going to kill it,” raleigh says finally, once they’ve worked through all the exercises in his arsenal, “you really don’t need my help.”

never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine someone like him would say something like that to her. “you think?”

“i know it,” he answers confidently, shrugging his shoulders like it’s that simple. “and you should, too.”

there’s a moment of silence where they just stand there staring at each other, ignoring the restless murmuring of the crowd outside that’s waiting for him to slip into his seat at the judge’s table. she’s effortlessly lost in raleigh’s eyes, so fixated on the intensity of his gaze that she doesn’t realize he’s leaning in closer until it’s too late.

“insurance policy,” he mutters, before he kisses her, hands cupping her face gently. 

for a split second, she stands frozen, shocked totally still. then, her brain reboots enough to propel her into motion, and cadence gets with the program enough to wind her arms around raleigh’s waist and pull him closer and kiss him back, until her heart’s lurched up into the throat she’d just been warming up, pounding relentlessly.

they make out until the roar of the crowd is deafening -- until it’s impossible not to acknowledge it any longer. 

of course raleigh’s a life-ruiningly good kisser. why wouldn’t he be? why should any of this be easy?

it’s only a few simple touches, but raleigh’s mouth leaves her dizzy and lightheaded when she’s supposed to be concentrating on performing, and, independently of the way she’s blinking at him in stupid shock, cadence already knows she’ll never be able to kiss anyone else ever again without thinking about him.

“i have to get out there,” she gasps between desperate presses of their lips against each other, grasping ineffectively at his clothes while his fingers tug her hair out of shape.

“be late,” he suggests, “it always works for me.” 

but she’s not him. she’s not like him -- they have nothing in common. they come from different worlds; they’re two completely opposite people.

and yet every minute with raleigh is like coming up for air after being underwater for years, like the knots of guilt and shame and awkward embarrassment she’s carried around for her entire life without understanding why she has them are slowly starting to undo themselves, unlaced by his careful fingers.

they make it out there. eventually.

before she knows it, confetti’s raining down from the ceiling and falling all over her, and she locks eyes with raleigh from across the room to find his lips pulled into a genuinely affectionate grin -- lips that she’d just kissed for the first time a fucking hour ago and, seriously, what is her life now -- his eyes bright and excited. 

things just keep getting weirder and weirder, but the way they’re beaming at each other like idiots in a room full of thousands, broadcast on national television, too, makes her think things might be pretty great, too.

ix.

it sort of takes them a long time to getting around to talking about it -- the soulmate thing.

it’s not that he doesn’t try. he does, but she’s got a lot going on, these days: a big move and a new record deal and days filled with songwriting and nights out being seen. he’s still on his image cleanup tour, while she’s at it, so his fake smile stays fixed on his face throughout another boring week of restaurant openings and charity events and talkshow appearances before he finally gets the chance to spend some time with her again.

they text here and there, but nothing pans out until the stars align and they manage to slip out of the back door of a nightclub unnoticed together after a night of dancing too close for the comfort of her publicist while avery and the others cause a commotion at the front entrance to distract the press.

she goes back to his penthouse with him. he can’t remember the last time he brought a girl back to his apartment just to talk, and especially not one who spent the better part of the evening in a sparkly minidress grinding against him. 

but here they are.

“so -- how’s the city treating you?” raleigh asks, pouring them both a drink he doesn’t want from the bar cart in the corner of the room for something to do with his hands.

cadence shrugs from where she’s perched on the edge of his sofa, tugging at the hem of her dress. “good, i guess. it’s honestly all kind of overwhelming.”

“yeah,” he nods, passing her one of the glasses in his hands and taking a seat on the ottoman in front of her, close enough to see her face in perfect clarity but still maintaining a distance that he hopes is respectful. “i know what you mean. when i first came here after joining sunset skatepark everything felt so... huge.”

“totally,” cadence answers quickly, nodding in a way that’s almost aggressive. “i mean, there’s so much pressure to deliver an album right away, but i want it to be perfect, and the studio is so different from, like, writing songs in my room at home, and i... i guess i feel kind of homesick, but -- not for my hometown. i hated that place.” there’s hesitancy in her gaze when she asks, “do you know what i mean?”

“yeah,” raleigh says again stupidly, because the truth is -- he knows exactly what she means. cadence has just articulated something he could never quite put into words better than he’d even thought the sentiments to himself. “it’s like... nostalgia for something you don’t even want.”

“exactly,” she breathes emphatically, and then they’re kissing again, and she’s in his lap on the ottoman and he definitely brought her here to talk, for sure, but is it really so terrible if they get a little sidetracked on the way to their destination?

well -- they wind up making out for hours. so, there’s that.

it’s not part of the plan but it’s a hell of a side quest, memorizing the shape and feel of her with his hands while her lips pull every last bit of breath from his lungs, until he’s lightheaded and dizzy in a way no other girl has ever made him, before. it’s to the point where when he finally finds it within himself to push her away, he’s uncharacteristically nervous -- something that’s never happened to him before, not even on the night he lost his virginity.

“i really did ask you over to talk,” he says, voice hoarse.

cadence licks her lips and then beams at him, eyes sparkling. “i know.” she shuffles delicately back onto the couch, lingering in his lap for only a moment before pulling away entirely. he stuffs his hands under his thighs to stop himself from reaching out for her again. “sorry i haven’t been around more.”

“you don’t have to apologize.” raleigh shakes his head. “i should be apologizing to you, i feel like... i should be the one who’s around, to help you with all of this. or at least -- i want to be. i don’t know if i’ll be any good at it.” 

he blinks, surprised by his own honesty. he hadn’t meant to say all of that, but the words came up before he was cognizant of them and now they’re out there, and there’s no taking them back -- especially with the way she’s looking at him, all soft and sweet and happy.

“well, you don’t have to be good at it,” cadence murmurs, reaching out for his wrists and tugging his hands free so she can interlock their fingers effortlessly. they fit together like puzzle pieces. “you just have to be you.”

x.

her budding relationship with one of the biggest names in r&b doesn’t have much time to bud at all before it’s rudely plucked from the plant and stepped on.

she finds herself blinking at fiona in confusion as the words take some time to process. “you want me to do what?”

xi.

raleigh balks at his manager, shaking his head emphatically. “no,” he spits out, “absolutely not.”

xii.

“cadence, it’s not a big deal,” fiona tells her, very nearly rolling her eyes. “everyone does it. you go on a few dates, play up the relationship for some photos, social media eats it up -- boom, you’re a star.”

“i don’t know,” she answers hesitantly, mind drifting back to the photographers that have already been following her around, screaming about avery when she ducks into the car with him. things with raleigh are... new, and complicated, and do they really need to add public scrutiny into the mix as well? “i just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“it’s a great idea,” fiona sighs, shaking her head. “all our focus groups agree. the label thinks it’s best, what with your single taking so long to put out.” she opens her mouth to protest -- it’s not like she’s dragging her feet on purpose -- but barely has a second to get a word out before fiona continues, “besides, raleigh does this all the time.”

her teeth bite at her bottom lip uncertainly. “he does?”

“of course. chantal clearwater? she was a pictagram model when they met, and now she’s opening shows at paris fashion week. it’s just business.”

it’s not, though. it could never be just anything, for reasons no one else knows about except the two of them, for reasons she’ll never tell. “well... what did raleigh say about it?”

xiii.

“i said no, frank.” he’s annoyed, now, and his manager knows it, raleigh’s arms folded across his chest and his eyes set into a glare. “n. o. no.”

“and i hear you, but is it really the end of the world? she’s exactly what we’re going for, and i know you already get along --”

“which is exactly why i don’t want to do this. so pick someone else. anyone else.” he’s not going to let his label turn her into one of the girls he has to be seen with for fake photos and mutually beneficial positive press. 

for so many years, he’s watched people fake feelings and use each other -- willingly participated in the using himself, too, more times than he can count. he never cared about any of it before.

but being with cadence doesn’t feel fake, and he doesn’t ever want it to. and he knows that if he agrees to this, everything he enjoys about spending time with her will disappear in favor of the ugly, plastic decay that’s eaten away at so many of his personal and professional relationships before. organic, genuine time with her will become strolls near celebrity hotspots, angling just right to help the cameras get the perfect shot. he’ll show up to support her at shows because her publicist called him, and their time together will become some manufactured narrative meant to push their labels’ agenda, until six months down the line they don’t even recognize themselves or what might’ve been if they’d done things a different way.

“look, there isn’t anyone else. her team’s already agreed to it, and i’ve got brunch set up for sunday. all you have to do is play nice for two fucking months, raleigh. is that so impossible for you?”

yes. already he feels a deep-seated desire to go somewhere and break something, to tear through the flower beds in central park with his motorcycle and wink at the cameras when they catch up to him.

instead, he storms out of the office he’s in, and into the sunlight, tugging the hood on his jacket up and melting into the crowd on the corner so he can be as anonymous as possible when he picks up his phone and calls cadence.

“hey raleigh,” she chirps as soon as she picks up, sounding far too cheerful for someone who’s likely had an equally as miserable early morning meeting on a friday. “guessing you heard the news?”

“can’t i just call you to say hi?” he grumbles, ducking his head as he strolls through the intersection with the mob of people crowded along fifth ave, turning down the next side street so he’s alone again, with no one following, just like that. 

“well, you can,” she teases, and some of the anger he’s carrying around with him fades, dissipating into nothing and evaporating like smoke. “but you’re not.”

“no, i’m not,” he agrees with a sigh, shaking his head. “you sound surprisingly cool with it, though.”

“should i not be?” cadence laughs, but he can detect a thread of nervousness in her tone. “i already want to hang out with you. we have the same friends and work in the same industry. we’re... probably going to go on dates anyway, so... how hard can this be?”

god. she has absolutely no idea. part of him thinks it’d be cruel to burst her bubble, but he should warn her, shouldn’t he? 

she sounds so optimistic about it, though. it’s hard to feel anything but hopeful when her voice turns up like that at the end. in the back of his mind, there’s a voice that’s not his suggesting maybe this time, things will be different. 

surely he knows better than to think something as ridiculous as that, though, right? 

“well, i guess it’ll be interesting, at least,” he muses, slowing his steps by the entrance to the subway. 

he’s going to lose his signal just as soon as he heads underground, and he’s not quite ready for that, yet.

xiv.

time with raleigh flies by. 

it doesn’t feel like they’re fake-dating -- they do everything she hopes he’d want to do with her anyway, like go out to eat at fancy restaurants and take walks through the park and bounce melodies for songs off of each other, facetiming late at night from their apartments or on the days he visits her and micah in the studio. 

he’s by her side for the release of her first single, and her first music video, and through it all, raleigh plays the role of the doting partner perfectly, holding her purse on the red carpet and feeding her paella at a strategically-placed outdoor table and fetching her coffee order when she’s too busy to stop writing for even just five minutes.

in the blink of an eye, it’s time to put out her album -- just like that. 

raleigh’s perfectly charming through that process, too. he shows up on time, says all the right things, and keeps a drink in her hand all evening long, so that when she’s finally done making the rounds and can enjoy herself after the entertainment and the networking and the schmoozing she’s giggly and touchy, doing her best to steal him away from the crowd.

“what were your other relationships like?” she asks, half expecting him to brush her off, though he’s always indulged her before. they’ve never really gotten this personal. “fake or... otherwise.”

“they’ve all been fake,” he shrugs, “and i can say with confidence that you’re the best one i’ve ever had.”

“really?” cadence smiles, chin propped up on her hand as she leans over the bar. “be honest. what did you really think, when you realized it was me?”

“what?” he asks, pushing the empty rocks glass in his hands around on the bar top, “you mean this thing?” he gestures at his arm, covered in expensive, custom tom ford, and the tattoo laying innocently beneath it.

“uh huh,” she confirms, “‘cause i was totally like oh shit.”

raleigh laughs, loud and wild, the sound swallowed up by the noise of the party around them. no one nearby is paying them even an ounce of attention, and it’s fun, to be anonymous at her own party, invisible to everyone in the room except for him. “i can imagine. i wouldn’t want to be stuck with me either.”

cadence shakes her head -- that’s not what she’d meant. but before she can protest, he rolls his glass between his palms and thoughtfully continues, “i guess i was a little surprised. it felt like i’d been waiting forever to meet you, so part of me was like, fuck, we’re doing this now? and i never thought it’d be someone so...”

“boring?” she suggests, eyebrows arching when raleigh’s expression immediately twists into one of disagreement, his nose scrunching up with distaste.

“no,” he huffs, “so... good, i guess.” she stares at him as he reaches for one of the waiting tequila shots on the bar, pulling it away from the line he’d set up for the crowd he’d been with before she’d tugged him to the side to talk, leaving the drinks untouched. raleigh knocks the shot back -- no salt, no lime. he’s had twice as many drinks as she has, and she’s definitely feeling them -- she has no idea how he’s even still upright, no worse for wear other than a few slurred words here and there. “but you just are. it’s like every song i’ve ever written was about you, and i just didn’t know it yet.”

the noise of the party fades in favor of the pounding of her heart, loud like a kick drum in her ears. she bites her lip and stares at him, watching as raleigh shakes his head at himself, dazed. “you okay?” she asks quietly, leaning in a little across the bar. 

raleigh’s quiet for so long she has to wonder whether or not he actually heard her. just as she clears her throat and opens her mouth to repeat herself even louder, he nods, reaching across the bar and squeezing her hand before dragging her back over to the line of tequila shots waiting for them to enjoy.

the night is a blur after that, and there’s patches of the evening that are fuzzy in her memory the next morning, but she knows she’ll never forget the gentle kiss goodnight raleigh gives her when he helps her stumble into the car back to her apartment at dawn.

xv. 

things go really well, until they don’t. 

they have a blissful six months together with more fun than he’s ever had with anyone. slowly, he learns every single thing about cadence and returns her openness with honesty of his own -- honesty that feels strange and unfamiliar but weirdly thrilling, in a way, made easier every time one of his stories pulls a laugh or smile from her. 

it seems unnatural, having a honeymoon period that goes on for so long. in the entire time they’re dating, he doesn’t destroy a single thing -- doesn’t even want to, which is the weirdest part of it all. 

there are some moments that catch him completely off guard. more than a few times, he hardly even recognizes himself, she turns him into such a different person. 

he doesn’t hate it, though -- just the opposite, in fact. raleigh realizes he’s really starting to like the carefree, far from jaded person he is when he’s with her, though it only hits him for real when he’s watching her storm away from him on liberty island, eyes fixed on the angry sway of her hips.

he stews on it on the long ride back to his penthouse; the game had, admittedly, been starting to wear on him. but he’d gone along with it because it was supposed to benefit her -- he’d agreed to the stupid public breakup and following the rules and not seeing cadence in public for the foreseeable future because it was what she wanted, and -- frankly, it felt like a stupid fucking decision.

not that it lasts long. he starts texting her just as soon as he’s done washing electralite out of his hair and doesn’t make it more than twenty minutes when they first see each other again at the moda gala before he’s sneaking off with her, ducking under the velvet rope that demarcates the planetarium as ‘off limits’ with her hand tucked neatly in his.

“maybe this is better,” cadence muses between sips of her drink, her eyes on one of the stupid glass exhibits he couldn’t possibly care less about. “now we can just be together -- no pressure. our relationship is ours again.”

their relationship. is that what this is? they’ve spent a lot of time talking about who they are and what they like and don’t like, kissing and touching and holding hands. throughout it all, he’s done his best not to buy into the ‘soulmate’ bullshit too heavily, but over the last few months it’s been hard to deny that there’s a reason he was meant to meet her, that she’s been changing him from the inside out.

“what’s on your mind?” she asks, turning towards him with an open look of genuine curiosity on her face, like she really wants to know. 

“it’s nothing,” raleigh answers at first, reflexively, like he has so many times before. no one has ever really wanted to know. but cadence’s eyebrows arch, and she waits, patiently silent, and then the words tumble out of him. “it’s just that -- my whole life, i’ve watched other people use each other. so many people are just interested in the concept of celebrity status. so i played the game. never trusting anyone.” 

he shrugs. a hand lifts to rub his jaw, and he looks back to meet her gaze just in time to see the little smile playing at her lips, like she already knows what he’s about to say. “but it’s different, with you. you make me not want to be that person anymore. when i’m with you, it’s the only time i feel anything real.”

“raleigh,” she murmurs, her expression flickering before her face does something that cracks his chest wide open. her eyes go all shiny and sparkly and her cheeks crease with a grin, and the way she laughs is so ridiculously joyful the hand he has stuffed in his pocket curls into a fist to stop him from doing something stupid. “i feel the same way. i just... this whole thing, i know it doesn’t always -- work out, but... with you i really want it to. i’ve never felt this way before about anyone, and i think...” 

there’s a pause as her lips purse thoughtfully, and then she says the words that make it impossible for him to do anything but close the distance between them and kiss her over and over again: “i think even without this tattoo it’d be you, anytime, anywhere.”

xvi.

being raleigh carrera’s (real, confirmed, 100%-authentic) girlfriend feels almost too good to be true.

raleigh is... everything she never knew she wanted in a boyfriend, wrapped up into one tall, dark and handsome package, with a loud, goofy laugh and a deep, sexy voice that sends a shiver down her spine whenever his mouth so much as lingers near her ear for too long. 

it turns out that, despite their differing status in the industry and her initial assumptions that they came from two completely different worlds, they’re actually on the same page about pretty much everything. she finds that the pressure of the word she’d held in such high regard for so long -- soulmate -- disappears entirely where he’s concerned because being with raleigh is just fun. 

there’s motorcycle rides and boat trips and hours up late talking about everything and nothing; facetime calls with his mom and shopping trips where the stores are kept open late for them so they can shop alone, in an empty boutique, like every teen movie she’d ever watched growing up.

there’s late nights in the studio and either of their apartments where they both noodle around on their guitars and improvise half-hearted duets, content to just work in the same orbit as each other for as long as possible.

raleigh’s texting one night on the couch in her living room when she plucks out the melody to who i’ll be on her old acoustic, sitting on the floor in front of the tv.

he looks up before the first verse is over. “what’s that one? it sounds good.”

“oh -- just a song i wrote in college,” cadence hums, already downplaying it as she lifts her shoulder in a shrug. “i got stuck, never finished it. ellis made me sell the progress for some other writer to finish.”

he frowns, pushing up onto his elbow. his phone is tossed carelessly somewhere among the couch cushions. “why?”

“because i was taking too long with the odyssey,” she sighs. “it was kind of my only option. it’s weird, though -- thinking about someone singing something that was so personal to me.”

“play me what you had so far,” he says, and so she does, hesitating for only a second before strumming the chords, singing the lines she had slowly. 

when she’s done, she looks up to find that raleigh’s slid to the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees as he leans in as close as he can get with the coffee table in his way. “okay -- that was beautiful. you should finish it.”

she shakes her head, setting her guitar down. “i can’t. they already sold it. and even if i wanted to... i don’t know how it ends.”

raleigh’s legs spread in invitation and she stands to walk around to the couch, slipping into his lap and leaning back against his chest. his hands are tender as he rubs them across her shoulders, sliding up her back before one lifts to brush a lock of hair back behind her ear, his pointer finger pushing her glasses up her nose affectionately. “maybe one day you can write something else with the same theme,” he suggests, and she tries her best to smile even though it feels like a dream lost, somehow -- a ridiculous thought, given that she pretty much has everything she ever wanted, but the way she feels all the same.

“maybe,” she sighs, the kiss he drops to her forehead a bandaid on a wound that’s been doing its best to heal for what feels like her entire life.

xvii.

he’s never brought a date to the vinyls before. 

there’s been plenty of after parties he’s stumbled out of with a girl on his arm, sure, but cadence is the first person to sit by his side during the ceremony, and he’s surprised by how much he likes having her next to him.

then again, he’s self aware enough to realize he’d like being pretty much anywhere, with her.

still -- the awards are a lot less boring with her around to kiss and stroke his hair and make snide commentary about the rest of the attendees with, and when she squeezes his hand goodbye to rush backstage and get ready for her performance he misses her instantly.

what happens next makes him endlessly regretful of the fact that he’s not backstage with her.

he rushes around just as soon as he can, pushing his way through security and frantically scrambling technical assistants to find her exactly where he thought he might, between ellis knight and fiona, looking lost with her head in her hands.

she seems equal parts broken and pissed in a way that tugs at his heartstrings and makes him a little bit proud. raleigh shoves through the crowd to get to her and slips an arm around her waist. he’s only caught the tail end of the conversation they’re all having, but he knows enough to know that “you can’t bench her. that’s bull.”

ultimately, though, it doesn’t matter how much they stomp their feet. she’s under contract, their hands are tied, and he walks away seething at the unfairness of it all, this shitty industry that’s turned on her when all she ever wanted to do was make music.

she cries in the car back to her apartment to pack her things. there’s no way he’s letting her go home to iowa or idaho or indiana without him, and he barks at his team over the phone until they agree to move his appearances around so he can make that happen, his free hand clasped tightly in hers until he physically has to let her go so she can unlock her front door with trembling fingers.

cadence tosses clothes haphazardly onto the bed and he silently and precisely moves to folds each piece for her, until she gives up and sinks down onto the edge of the mattress, defeated. 

wide eyes filled with tears lock onto his, and he watches her bottom lip wobble before she says, “you really don’t have to do this. come with me, i mean. i know i messed up, and -- you have so much else going on. i don’t expect you to --”

“i’m coming,” he states firmly, setting the sweatpants in his hand down and stepping closer to her, sitting beside cadence on her bed. “what happened tonight was fucked up, cadence -- it shouldn’t have happened at all. i’m not going to let you go through this alone.”

“but --”

“but nothing,” he says, and before the words have even left his mouth she’s falling into his arms with a soft sound of gratitude, mashing her face into his chest as she sniffles.

“thank you,” cadence mumbles, sounding so unsure of herself it makes him wonder if she’s ever had anyone show up for her when it mattered most before, or if that’s yet another thing they unfortunately have in common. 

xviii.

raleigh tries his best to cheer her up, but it’s still hard, feeling like she’s let the entire world down. her fans. herself.

there’s something embarrassing about showing raleigh her apartment back home and the person she was before she met him -- all the places she felt most uncertain and where she experienced some her worst self-doubt, the room that still has the smoothie star apron hung up in the closet.

but there’s also something exciting, about being totally off the grid with him. no one knows they’re here and there’s no paparazzi waiting to snap photos of them -- especially given the fact that they don’t leave her building for the first three days she spends moping around while raleigh orders all the takeout he can get his hands on.

it sort of reminds her of when they first met, and there was nothing to do but learn about each other, though now there’s a familiarity to him she relies on, a unique raleigh-ness that feels more like home than this shitty apartment ever did.

still, she struggles, and the weight of the world doesn’t let up until zadie shows up with her fanmail and avery does his best to make her smile with a beach trip and some fancy new toys and a day in the sun with a drink in her hand.

eventually it’s just her and raleigh again, out by the fire after everyone else has gone to bed. her stomach is full of s’mores and her cheeks hurt from smiling for the first time in weeks, and it’s a shock when she realizes she feels content, even after everything that’s happened -- almost as though things will all work out for the better no matter what happens next.

“oh my god,” she gasps suddenly, cutting off what raleigh had been saying as her eyes light up and she hastens to stand. “i’ve gotta -- i need to -- oh my god.”

just like that, she knows how her song ends.

recording it is a process, but raleigh calls in some favors and gets them studio time and agrees to be featured on the song even though she knows he’s still working through a sound change that he feels unsure about.

but it means a lot to her, having him crammed in the booth at her side, singing into the same mic. they sound almost unbelievably good together, too, raleigh’s harmonies on the words that finally resolve that lost feeling she’s been harboring her entire life making something deep within her wriggle up happily, wagging its proverbial tail.

the fact that raleigh remains by her side throughout the entire fight with her label, the long nights of despair agonizing over what her next move is going to be and even the moment where they decide to break into indio, of all places, means more to her than she can ever say. she feels markedly less nervous about the entire thing every time she turns her head to the side and sees him, right there next to her -- right where he’s been this entire time -- smiling encouragingly and squeezing her hand hard in his.

though it’s not until they’re up at the top of the ferris wheel that she realizes how precious what she has really is. it’s not until he looks her dead in the eye and says, with that same soft earnestness he’s awarded her since they first met at the one in a million auditions that feel quite literally like a hundred years ago, “cadence, everything you want is on the other side of fear. and i want you to have everything you want,” that she truly understands that’s what between them is special and rare.

not because of any tattoos, or any preconceived destiny. not because of who they are and their status and the fact that people take pictures of them when they’re out in public together.

but because of this -- all these real moments of genuine connection they’ve been fortunate enough to share since fate threw them into each other’s paths.

“raleigh, i love you.” the words are said easily, not a moment’s hesitation behind them. 

just before she crosses over in the cart to kiss him until they’re both breathless, raleigh gifts her the brightest smile he has and says, “i love you, too.”

xix.

the night is a blur from the moment he first takes the stage with his old bandmates to when he finally finds himself alone with cadence in a rundown old motel a few miles out from the festival in the desert.

he can’t recall ever being so happy, so of course he doesn’t remember every agonizing detail of the evening, though he does know he doesn’t feel the need to have a single beer with cadence around, twirling barefoot in the grass and giggling when she leads him up to the room they’ve borrowed.

afterwards, when they’re sitting on the roof together in the blanket they dragged off the bed, he reflects on the wild year they’ve had with her in his arms, fingertips tracing the delicate very funny scrawled across cadence’s collarbone.

he feels... free. completely liberated. like there’s absolutely nothing and no one that can get to him, now, like he’s untouchable, like he doesn’t care about a single thing that happens after today and how perfect things have been. 

“i think i’m actually freer than i’ve ever been,” he muses, where his lips are pressed into her hair, “i can take my sound in any direction i want.”

“i’m so happy for you, raleigh,” cadence returns genuinely, tilting her head back so he can see her upside-down smile. 

his arms tighten around her. “i’m so excited for what you’re gonna be doing, too. i’m excited for us.”

“yeah,” she sighs, “who knows what’s next, right? now that ellis let me out of my deal...”

he can hear the thread of worry undercutting the words. he shakes his head, hands rubbing up and down her arms. “you can worry about that tomorrow. for tonight, just enjoy the comeback. what you did out there was amazing.”

“what we did,” she corrects, and he blinks up the stars as he realizes she’s right -- they’re a we now. he’s part of a we again, after being on his own for so long.

the phrases bounce around in his head, unfamiliar and foreign. me and my girlfriend, he thinks to himself, cadence and i. we’re going to be late. we’ll be away that weekend. we just started watching that show. we, we, we. 

“what we did was amazing,” raleigh amends, the words slow to come out but feeling right all the same. “whatever we do next will be amazing.”

“absolutely,” cadence confirms, with conviction, like it’s something she believes wholeheartedly.

and though he has no idea what to expect or what it might be, a large part of him is inclined to agree with her -- she’s been right about everything else so far.

xx.

one year later, she’s finishing a set in berlin, the last stop on a sprawling european tour that had taken she, avery, micah and raleigh across the continent for dozens of performances to sold-out crowds of thousands screaming her lyrics back to her. 

if her contract with overknight had been a dream come true, signing to wilshere records is heaven incarnate. cadence’s trip through the u.k. with her new label is proof enough, and the chance to meet new fans with new stories to share that she could connect with is one she’s taken to with enthusiasm, the experience made all the sweeter by the fact that her favorite people get to be by her side throughout it all.

berlin’s crowd is one of the best, and she fully expects to end the tour on a high note, head banging to the last few notes of ‘knockout’ before raleigh’s planned entrance for the last song of the night, so they can sing the duet that’s closed out every show they’ve had on the tour together. 

when he struts out with his guitar, waving and grinning at the crowd, she can’t stop herself from smiling stupidly at him, just like she does every time she sees him join her on stage, every time she realizes that this is their life, that this is something they do every night, now.

though her grin falters when raleigh pauses in front of his microphone and asks, “berlin, do you mind if i talk a little bit before i start the song? no? cool, because i’ve got an important question to ask.”

her eyes widen. cadence’s mouth drops open and doesn’t close throughout the entire speech raleigh gives her, even though thousands of people in the crowd are filming every moment of her gaping like an idiot, snapping close-ups of her shocked face.

the arena practically vibrates with screams when he drops to his knee, popping the box in his hand open so she can see the giant diamond ring nestled inside of it. 

“so?” raleigh asks, and cadence can just barely hear him in her in-ears with the way her heart is beating frantically up into her throat, as wild as the crowd’s raging around them and then some. “whaddya say, babe? will you marry me?”

as if the answer could ever be anything but yes. she nods, laughing as she launches herself into his arm for a kiss that’s too grand to be given on stage, though that’s hardly going to stop her -- not tonight, at least. tonight, she’s okay with the whole world watching their every move, just one more time.

“oh, i don’t know if it’s going to fit,” raleigh jokes as the ring slides easily onto her left hand, amping up the theatrics for the fans still watching them avidly, even up in the cheap seats.

cadence rolls her eyes playfully at him. “very funny,” she praises, and the grin he offers her in return is so loving -- so knowing, with the secret that only the two of them share and every weird piece of their history included in it -- that it takes everything she has to shove him away so they can perform instead of dragging him down to the floor to kiss him over and over again.

clumsily, she flubs a few notes of love who i’ll be on her guitar. from across the stage, between the bridge and the chorus, raleigh jeers, “someone hasn’t learned to play with the extra weight on their left hand, yet, i see,” and when she flips him off while belting out the last lines of the verse, his raucous laughter is all the harmony the final few bars of the song needs. 

#platinumweekend #platinum #raleigh carrera #raleigh carrera x mc #cadence dorian #raleigh x mc #raleigh x cadence #myfic #long post #well. this sure took me a long time DFJGHDFJHGDFJKGH so i hope you guys like it !! it was kind of a new style for me 😳

[hephaestiions]

So, just saw you mention Blaise/Theo in one of your asks—talk to me about your feelings on them? It’s a ship I just saw some fanart of, and I’m intrigued™️ ❤️

@shealwaysreads bella you really should not have asked (even though i am very glad you did), because i have many feelings and they’re all mostly angst because i only sometimes headcanon theo living past the age of eighteen. but have some very general, broad thoughts on them that have nothing to do with death or being eighteen or anything that isn’t a very soft (or about as soft as hogwarts slytherins get anyway) friends to lovers situation:  

by the time blaise is an eleven year old sitting with an old mouldy hat on top of his head that bellows slytherin after telling him– quite mortifyingly– that he’d do rather well in hufflepuff, he has a lot of rules about living life. some of them are his mother’s– sharp smile and sharper nails and don’t let any of them get too close darling, it never works that way. some of them are survival– you learn after coming too close to death one too many times with too many men who see a little boy with a penchant for adventure as more of a hindrance to a life of leisure with his mother than anything else. and some of them are just him– make acquaintances easily, but make friends only with the people you can afford to care about forever. smile, never laugh, they don’t need to see the way you look when you aren’t faking it. life is a dinner table and you are the host.  

except theo careens into his life with a glass of pumpkin juice he wasn’t keeping an eye on because he was trying to split his attention between a book and the hem of his too long robes that he wrote to father to get fixed, but father said he didn’t have time, and really how much time could it possibly take and oh– blaise! oh, i’m sorry, i didn’t see you there, oh–! and blaise is rushing to simultaneously clean off pumpkin juice and reassure this anxious boy with fidgety hands who keeps looking at his face and then looking away as though he expects to be punched and is a little awestruck by the fact that he isn’t being punched. 

and blaise’s manual of rules to navigate the high, treacherous seas of life is drowned in pumpkin juice and childish adoration that blossoms over the years into a kind of unconditional love that he tries to keep hidden but can’t because it spills like the ink from the spare quill he keeps around because theo chews all of his. blaise is all sharp and all smiles and all sarcasm and witty banter when he’s twelve, when he’s thirteen, when he’s fourteen, when he’s fiftee– blaise, blaise! theo is in the upstairs bathroom, i think he hurt his spine– blaise? and someone no one in the slytherin common room has ever met emerges from beneath the facade, painted with panic and love and a bizarre sort of genuineness that leaves everyone feeling uncomfortable. 

have you ever heard the only exception by paramore? think of it as their theme song. 

they finally get together when pansy has enough of it towards the end of fifth year and takes them both by the arm and shoves them into the bathroom and leaves them there for four hours to ‘sort their shit out’. theo begins to apologise– i don’t know what’s gotten into her– and blaise waves it off– it’s pansy, whatever it is has been in there for a while now. and they sit on the tiled floor and stare at each other for a while and burst into laughter. they laugh and they laugh and they laugh until it hurts too much. and then blaise asks him what he’s thinking and theo says, as if on autopilot, all my thoughts quiet when i’m with you and then blinks, confused, as though he really hadn’t intended to say any of that and then one thing leads to another and they’re kissing, sprawled and awkward and uncomfortable against the wooden bathroom door. 

i actually have less thoughts about theo, and i think that’s actually a pretty accurate representation of his personality in general. blaise is a sword, he has mastered the art of taking up space while remaining immaculately sharp. theo on the other hand... theo is a paintbrush. capable of creating worlds of wonder but a little worn down and weary himself. he is– he’s my little tragedy. i imagine him to be this artistically inclined, quiet boy with a sharp tongue and softness where no one expects there to be any. as the years pass and his father's presence in his life as a tangible influence rather than a distant concept strengthens, the art is leached from him little by little. the smiles bleed away and the softer side is lost under an avalanche of panic and grief when his mother dies and his father starts regularly disappearing for meetings with– with fucking voldemort.

he becomes surlier, someone all his friends flinch away from on his bad days. blaise can only stand on the sidelines and watch because nothing he can do will actually bleed into that dark part of theo's heart that has been tainted by the darkness of his father's words and convictions. theo used to play quidditch but he gives it up in sixth year because his right ankle is too weak from the crucios his father aimed at his legs when theo said in a fit of rage, you don't inspire anything in me except the urge to run as far away from this godforsaken prison as possible. he can't stand on it and the only time he allows himself to cry about it is when blaise finds out and kisses the arch of his foot and says, i will carry you where you can't walk.

i had no actual plan for this answer because i got a little too excited about sharing my thoughts on theo and blaise so it’s going to end at this abrupt juncture, but i have thousands of more words about them in sixth year after theo takes the mark and post-war (some with mcd, some without) that i will not pack into a single tumblr post to spare us all <3 

anyway, if you ever feel like reading 2.6k of E rated Theo/Blaise hurt/comfort in sixth year then here you go. 

thank you so very much for asking and letting me ramble for this long about these boys, it means the world <33 

#theo nott #blaise zabini #theo x blaise #blaise x theo #do they have a ship name #a ship name that is not thlaise because i refuse to use that #anyway #geets writes #geets.txt #shealwaysreads

[foxghost]

Joyful Reunion, Chapter 56

Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1 Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang Masterpost | Characters, Maps & Other Reference Index

Book 2, Chapter 14 (Part 1)

By the next morning, the rain has stopped, and Duan Ling has spent the night only half asleep with a slew of thoughts making a mess in his head, somehow managing to smoothly and peacefully live to see dawn.

Everything that had happened the night prior feels like nothing more than a lifetime lived in a great long dream, and now he begins to think about how he will guarantee his own safety from now on. Lang Junxia is one of the four great assassins; in other words, he must have a martial artist of Wu Du or Chang Liujun’s calibre or higher by his side at all times. He may not be able to stay within arm’s reach, but he has to be at least within their sights.

What about when he’s at his lessons? Duan Ling’s mind quickly runs through all the possible scenarios once he starts thinking. Lang Junxia probably won’t make a move during the day; infiltrating the chancellor’s estate in broad daylight is too lofty of a goal. He’ll probably be fine as long as he’s with Wu Du at night. Then during the day, should he study with Mu Qing as before? It may be a bit risky still, but living will always involve some degree of risk.

After breakfast, Wu Du takes out a new wooden box and heads for the door. Duan Ling hurries after him.

Wu Du looks Duan Ling from the top of his head down to his toes speechlessly, and comes to realise that he’s still scared about that thing from last night.

“Where are you going? I’ll go with you.” Duan Ling takes the wooden box from Wu Du, holds it up with both hands, and looks at him expectantly.

Wu Du can only take Duan Ling along, his mind wandering as they enter the chancellor’s estate. Soon afterwards, he says quietly to Duan Ling, “You heard everything Wuluohou Mu said last night, right?”

Last night Duan Ling’s mind was entirely elsewhere, and none of his attention was on Lang Junxia’s words, but now that he thinks about it, it suddenly occurs to him that something doesn’t feel right.

“He said that a carriage from the chancellor’s estate was stopped outside,” Duan Ling says with a frown.

“Shh. If Chancellor Mu brings it up later, you don’t have to say anything. Let me explain.”

Mu Kuangda is having breakfast, and as though he knew Wu Du was going to come first thing in the morning, he bids the servants serve Wu Du and Duan Ling each a cup of tea, while Chang Liujun sits nearby polishing his sword.

Wu Du takes the box and puts it down in front of Mu Kuangda, opening it towards him. The inside is separated into nine compartments arranged in a three by three grid with a different kind of medicinal ingredient in each. Then he unfolds a sheet of yellow paper and puts that in front of Mu Kuangda also.

“Lord chancellor, the formula you gave me previously used clashing ‘cold’ and ‘heat’ ingredients, and the combination of the ingredients was bizarre. It would have been easy for any ordinary doctor to realise that it’s poisonous, thus drawing unnecessary attention. I’ve revised the formula thrice, swapping seven of the ingredients for four, and then added two others that are usually used in supplements to come up with this. I’ve given it a name — ‘Soup of Nine Souls’.”

“Very good.” Mu Kuangda asks, “What does it do?”

"It looks like it’s for placating frequent dreams, to supplement for a lack of yang energy, and beneficial to overall health. Once it’s taken, the patient will have less dreams. However, it will gradually trigger an imbalance in the heart meridian during the day. You can see the effects after three doses. The patient will be anxious all the time, plagued with worries, and in the long run it’ll wreak havoc on their ability to think clearly for years to come.

“If they in turn take medicinal decoctions for calming the mind, or heart supplements, instead of helping, it’ll give rise to drowsiness, leading to the patient wanting to sleep all the time. And if they keep doing that, it’ll gradually lead to the failure of the heart meridian. If they try to take tonics made of ingredients that trend ‘great heat’ or ‘great dryness’ such as ginseng and cistanche, their body will start to fail after a single dose. Several more of that and it’ll cause haemorrhaging from the eyes, the ears, the nose, and the mouth, leading to death.”

“Very good.” Mu Kuangda is more than satisfied. “Is there an antidote?”

“Castings of the ice silk worm and essence of the snow snake. One can make an antidote out of those two things. The steps to make such an antidote is written on the reverse side of the page.”2

Mu Kuangda reads the formula over several times, a hint of approval plain in his eyes. He nods slowly. “You really do live up to your reputation.”

Wu Du doesn’t say anything and finishes the tea.

Mu Kuangda continues, “Last night the wind was strong and the rain came violent and swift. Did you sleep well, perchance?”

Duan Ling listens between the lines and realises Mu Kuangda must already know. Lang Junxia was able to guess that Mu Kuangda would know, Wu Du also knows that Mu Kuangda knows, only Mu Kuangda himself doesn’t know that they know he knows …

All these twists and turns are truly hard on the brain, but thankfully Lang Junxia has given them that particular reminder so now they’ve gone from a passive position to a place where they can take the initiative. Though whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing is still up for debate.

Chang Liujun watches Duan Ling with smiling eyes. Duan Ling hasn’t come back from his thoughts yet, and assumes that Chang Liujun is likely just rejoicing in Wu Du’s misfortune again.

“I went to the Blossoms Pavilion last night,” Wu Du says casually, “brought the little one to broaden his horizons.”

“Oh?” But Mu Kuangda is smiling already. “Well you must have enjoyed yourselves.”

Duan Ling apprehensively recalls what Lang Junxia told them: If Mu Kuangda brings it up, just tell him the truth. And instantly several ideas flash through his head and it all becomes clear. Lang Junxia is extremely smart, actually; this way, he’s handed the initiative entirely to Wu Du. The fake crown prince wants to bring Wu Du to his side, yet Wu Du is in the enemy’s camp. So what he can do is sell this information to Mu Kuangda in exchange for his trust first, then lie in wait. He’ll be Mu Kuangda’s retainer in name, but in reality he’ll be on the crown prince and Lang Junxia’s side, becoming a double agent — a far more beneficial result.

Of course, such an arrangement is only applicable to Wu Du — because he’s true to his feelings.

“We didn’t really enjoy ourselves.” Wu Du replies, “A lot has happened in the past, and after some thinking I believe I need to give you an explanation, Lord Chancellor.”

Mu Kuangda is quiet for a moment before he nods. Smart people know exactly when to speak and when to stop. Clearly he does not need to say more.

“Lord Chancellor, I can never forget the kindness you showed me by asking for mercy on my behalf.” Wu Du says, finally, “If there’s nothing else, then please excuse me.”

But Mu Kuangda is saying. “Please wait.”

Wu Du is about to get up, but Mu Kuangda is giving Chang Liujun a glance, and Chang Liujun produces a letter.

“I may need to ask you to do something else for me,” Mu Kuangda continues, “First take a look at this letter.”

Duan Ling wants to see it, but he doesn’t dare peek — even though he’s extremely curious.

Mu Kuangda turns to him. “Wang Shan, since you’re with the young master everyday, even if you haven’t become one of my aides, your position is not far from one. There’s no need to act like you’re treading on eggshells. A young man should say what he ought to say, and not act too far beyond his years.”

Duan Ling knows that Mu Kuangda is clearly treating him as one of his own because Wu Du has declared where he stands. Duan Ling hasten to answer respectfully, “Certainly.”

Wu Du opens the letter and finds an army dispatch. There’s no address, and no signature; it contains some proof of military spending as well as weaponry held in reserve, training plans over the winter, as well as an account of using fourteen thousand and eight hundred taels of silver to purchase Ferghana3 warhorses from Xiliang.

“Can you tell whose handwriting this is?” Mu Kuangda asks.

“It’s Bian Lingbai’s handwriting.” Wu Du says, “A general stationed in Tongguan. Pacification Commissioner of Guanxi.”4

“Correct.”

Duan Ling doesn’t know who that is, so he doesn’t say anything. Why is Mu Kuangda suddenly showing Wu Du a letter? Does he want to send him to kill someone?

“Bian Lingbai has served in the army thirteen years.” Mu Kuangda says, “He started his career in Shandong5, and he’s had more than twenty military engagements with Liao, both big and small, with a mixed record of wins and losses. When the Yelüs seized Shangzi, Bian Lingbai attacked the Khitan army’s rear formation by surprise and was decorated for his service. After the capital was relocated to Xichuan, he was made Commander-in-Chief of the Shandong army. Seven years ago, he joined hands with the General of Tiger’s Might6 Han Bin, and turned against the late emperor at Mount Jiangjun to seize the military from him.”

“Kill him?” Wu Du says offhandedly.

Mu Kuangda doesn’t say anything, and takes another sip of tea. Sunlight slants though the window panes at his back.

“While the late emperor did not bother to punish those under Zhao Kui’s command,” Mu Kuangda says, “I cannot afford to do the same. This man has been colluding with Xiliang for a long time — buying horses, reinforcing his troops, increasing the size of his army without explicit approval. The proof is the letter in your hand. It’s a record of his secretly stockpiling armaments and embezzling military funds to buy warhorses from the Tangut.”

“If we don’t put an end to him now, given enough time he may prove a challenge to the central government, and become hard to control.”

When lives are involved, Mu Kuangda has always been exceedingly prudent.

“I got it. I’ll head out over the next few days.”

Duan Ling thinks, that’s not good. If you’re heading out, what am I supposed to do?

Mu Kuangda says, “In addition to killing him you must also gather proof that he’s attempting to seek independence.”

Wu Du furrows his brows slightly, and does not answer.

“Wu Du.” Mu Kuangda says, “Killing cannot be the only thing you know how to do.”

Mu Kuangda gets up and paces to the veranda. A soft summer breeze brushes by, setting the wind chimes to a light clinking.

Wu Du says, “I’ve met Bian Lingbai once. He’s a highly ambitious man. I share at least part of the blame in General Zhao’s death; he’s not about to have a pleasant conversation with me — he’s liable to pull a knife on me before we even get the chance to sit down.”

“You know how to disguise yourself, no?” Chang Liujun interjects suddenly.

"A disguise is only good for lying low. If I want to collect evidence that he’s colluding with Tangut and seeking independence, then I’ll have to talk to him. Speech, mannerisms — these are hard things to imitate for long.”

Mu Kuangda falls into a thoughtful silence.

“There is another way.” Wu Du says, “I can arrest him, interrogate the details out of him, and then hand him over to you, Lord Chancellor. Whether the testimony turns out to be a confession under duress or the truth, well that isn’t any of my business.”

“That won’t do.” Mu Kuangda shakes his head slowly. “His Majesty will spare this man’s life, that’s for certain. Even if we have conclusive evidence, he’ll be banished to a remote army post and exiled at most, leaving him the chance to make a comeback. What I want is for him to die beneath Tongguan without making a splash — not to have him killed with great fanfare, giving his army a chance to mutiny.”

“What if I go?” Duan Ling says suddenly.

The room falls quiet at once. Duan Ling knows that what he said is utterly absurd, but he has no other alternative. As soon as Wu Du leaves, his own insignificant little life may as well be a slice of meat on a chopping board, and Lang Junxia can slice him up however he likes.

“You?” Wu Du sounds like he’s just heard the most fantastical story in the world, and he says to Duan Ling, “I’m going there to kill someone!”

Mu Kuangda though, seems rather surprised. He gives Duan Ling a glance and says, “Truly, you never cease to amaze. Let him speak. See what he comes up with.”

“Um … I don’t have any concrete ideas, for now. I’ll have to get there first. It’s outside Tongguan, right? If Wu Du pretends he’s part of my … household? Maybe General Bian wouldn’t suspect me if I’m the one to approach him?”

Mu Kuangda falls quiet once more. A furrow appears between Wu Du’s brows and he’s about to speak up to stop Duan Ling, but he catches Duan Ling staring at him imploringly.

“That’s feasible.” With that reminder from Duan Ling, Mu Kuangda seems to have figured out something. “Last year, Bian Lingbai was transferred back to Tongguan from Mount Jiangjun, and it’s getting close to the anniversary of Zhao Kui’s death. What identity can you use to see him with though?”

Speaking, Mu Kuangda turns to Duan Ling, who grows somewhat fearful beneath his gaze lest he gets a eureka moment at some point and notices a hint in his features and grows suspicious. But right now he has no other option but to make this gamble, knowing that Mu Kuangda is only scrutinising him because he’s trying to come up with a suitable identity.

“You can’t be Zhao Kui’s son.” Mu Kuangda mumbles to himself. “Zhao Kui had three sons and one daughter, and they were all beheaded. What about an adoptive son? Wu Du, what do you think? Would baiting him into committing treason fish out what we want?”

Baiting him into committing treason is truly an extremely shrewd move.

“But how are we going to explain why Wu Du’s going there?” Duan Ling asks.

“That won’t be a problem. All I have to do is write a letter appointing Wu Du to investigate the whereabouts of the sword of the realm, the Zhenshanhe. Meanwhile Wu Du will use this as an opportunity to meet with Bian Lingbai. That’s all it’ll take for Bian Lingbai to believe it.”

Wu Du says, “Zhao Kui has a nephew named Zhao Rong, and his father Zhao Pu was a deputy captain of the coast guard under the Shandong jurisdiction. Zhao Pu was shot and killed by an arrow during a pirate7 raid four years ago, and Zhao Rong was captured and drowned. But not many people know that, as Zhao Kui was the only one who received news of his nephew’s death, so we can get in contact with Bian Lingbai under this name.”

“That will work.” Mu Kuangda says, “Let me think about this some more, and see if I can come up with a way that can accomplish all of our goals in one fell swoop. Go home for now, and wait for me to get everything ready.”

I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎

The ingredients mentioned before these ‘ice silk worm’ and ‘snow snake’ stuff are real ingredients. The worm and snake stuff is fictional, though not new, in wuxia. ↩︎

Ferghana horse. ↩︎

Guanxi means “areas west of the gates/passes”, or areas west of Tongguan, along the western border. ↩︎

The original text used Guandong, which meant “east of the gates”, those gates being the major gates along the Great Wall such as Yubiguan. But since that’s a meaningless location that can’t be found on a map, I changed it to Shandong as that’s the area they’re referring to. ↩︎

Incidentally, this was also Zhao Yun’s nickname under Liu Bei. Historically there were three Generals of Tiger’s Might during the three kingdoms period. ↩︎

The Chinese word Wokou were often translated to Japanese pirates, and the word itself literally meant “dwarf pirates”, but the ethnicity of these pirates varied over time. You can basically think of the word wokou as simply “pirate”, in the same way that typhoon is just a word for hurricanes when they happen in the Pacific/Indian Ocean. ↩︎

#相見歡 #fei tian ye xiang #joyful reunion #xiang jian huan #fox translates things

[duplicitywrites]

Creator Tag Meme: Top 5 of 2020 ✨

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Tagged by: @being-luminous​, thank you so much!

Tagging: @sonder-writes​ @minryll​ @tomriddleswearjar​ @itsevanffs​ @alfiisha​ if you want to!

---

there are many more works i could link here; this is but a sample of what i feel i am most proud of in this moment.

sometimes, i do feel like i carry a tiny piece of everything i write around with me, keeping all the people and worlds that i dabble with alive in my mind. i’d love nothing more than to immediately brain-dump an entire story into a google doc, but alas technology has not gotten quite that advanced yet. maybe someday!

happy new year, everybody! may 2021 bring you compassion, kindness, and limitless growth.

---

5. But For You, I Did | time-travel fix-it, age difference

this story will always have a special place in my heart. as one of my most successful works in 2020 (and posted at the start of the year, no less) it is one of the stories i feel really helped me learn what i wanted to write. the feedback i got was truly incredible and i am forever grateful.

---

When 11-year-old Tom Riddle arrives at Platform 9 and 3/4, he meets fifth-year Prefect Harry Evans, a Muggleborn Slytherin at the top of his year. Harry knows exactly what it's like to have no one understand you…

But Harry Potter, who has de-aged himself and gone back in time, may find that his efforts to win Tom over work a little too well.

4. No Body, No Crime | murder mystery, tragedy

i know i only posted this recently, but it’s quickly grown to be a favourite of mine. despite the dark themes of this story, i think it will, in many ways, set the tone for some of my writing this year.

Harry works as a car mechanic in a small town. He and Ginny are best friends, their bond the product of a traumatic event that scarred them as children.

Now they are adults with separate lives, it seems inevitable that they will drift apart. That is, until Ginny confides in Harry that she thinks her husband—the charming, enigmatic Tom Riddle—is cheating on her.

---

3. The Office Tribute | office AU, rom-com

i have said it about a thousand times: i will never be this funny again. truly this story was a delight to write, and was a bright spot during a dark time for me personally. thank you to all of you who read, enjoyed, and laughed along.

Tom Riddle is a domineering boss with a stick up his ass, and Harry has just volunteered for the potentially lethal task of getting him to cheer the hell up.

---

2. In the Daylight Again | time-travel fix-it, enemies to friends to lovers

the thing is, this story wasn’t originally intended to be so wholesome. what it ended up being was a fascinating exploration (at least for me) in the relationships we have with others, the relationship we have with ourselves, and the ever-present argument of nature vs nurture.

Harry Potter travels back in time on behalf of the Order of the Phoenix to retrieve a thirteen-year-old Tom Riddle.

When they arrive in the future, Harry and Tom must wait for an indeterminate period under sealed wards as the timeline rights itself in Tom's absence.

---

1. Till Death Do Us Part | voldemort wins AU, angst

to date, this is one of the stories i am very proud of finishing. it takes the top spot this year by a narrow amount, mostly because i feel this story helped me grow as a person as much as it helped me grow as a writer. i don’t write dark themes lightly, but writing this enabled me to feel more comfortable with it.

When Harry becomes the Dark Lord’s prisoner, his only solace is in the fact that his eventual death will set Wizarding Britain free.

#tag game #everything here is tomarry hah

[whaler13bg]

The fascinating thing about Taylor is that she built her brand, music, and stardom herself. She started with a simple Myspace page, where she built a platform that fostered a one-to-one connection with fans because she intuitively understood that this would accelerate her brand reach. She responded personally to each and every comment that she received on that platform. And any time she would get a request for an autograph or a photo she would comply. Taylor once even did a thirteen-hour meet-and-greet session—which turned into seventeen hours—where she personally signed autographs for and took selfies with three thousand fans. She knew that every fan who stood and waited in line to receive an autograph or photo would be a fan—and brand advocate—for life. These brand advocates would spread and share her music and message with all their friends. Even though Taylor ended up physically meeting only three thousand people, she probably reached around a hundred thousand people that day. Each interaction she had was not limited to a single moment: fans would not only tell their friends about it but would also post images, autographs, and videos that they took at the event on their own social channels. The average Facebook user has 338 friends, so if each of her fans shared those images she could potentially reach up to 1,014,000 people. Fans would go out and spread the word for her. They’d tell all their friends and social connections, “I love Taylor Swift!” or “I just got this awesome photo or autograph.” Taylor still makes time for events like this. She attends fans’ birthday parties, weddings, and bridal showers. In 2014 she showed up at a bunch of fans’ houses with Christmas gifts and more than eighteen million people viewed the videos of the Christmas gift deliveries. In 2017 she invited select groups of fans to her homes in London, Los Angeles, Nashville, and Rhode Island for listening parties of her sixth studio album, Reputation. These kinds of events are Taylor’s ways of giving back to her fans, while generating massive attention and interest. This works for her because she’s genuine. She doesn’t just do this to manipulate the system. Not only is she smart, talented, and appreciative of her fans’ time, she has a good heart. And it’s this heart that has fostered brand loyalty, which grows like wildfire. Yet Taylor can only be in so many places at once. In the beginning of her career she was living in Nashville. Although she could have an autograph signing and connect with three thousand fans in that location, she couldn’t always make time for fans in other parts of the world. Her fans in New York, London, China, Hong Kong, India, and Japan were not able to connect with her. By focusing on her online presence, however, she could connect with people all around the world—and quickly. Before meeting with my team, Taylor had spent around $75,000 to $150,000 on an all-Flash website that required two days to make a change every time she wanted to update it. When I looked at the analytics, people were spending less than thirty seconds on the website, and 90 percent of people were bouncing off the homepage as soon as they landed on it. I wanted Taylor to maximize the potential of her website, to go back to the fundamental idea behind her brand—one-to-one interactions. With the right strategy, she could leverage her website to foster stronger connections among her fans. My pitch was that with the technology platform my team developed, we could build an entirely new site on spec for her in six hours. In a meeting, I showed her how we could dynamically change any element of the website in real time. She could change the background, move the navigation, change out the navigation, and control every element of that website, which gave her the power and creativity to constantly evolve how she wanted to express herself to fans. For example, every time she launched a new album, she could quickly redesign the entire website within minutes to match the aesthetic of the new album. This ability to rapidly change the website allowed her to foster a more powerful connection with her fans by allowing her to express herself how she wanted, when she wanted, in the same way she was able to on Myspace early in her career. Over the course of two years, using the platform my team built along with some brilliant community-building technology platforms that we partnered with, we collectively took the time that fans spent on her website from less than thirty seconds to more than twenty-two minutes. How did we create such an uptick in time spent on her site? By giving fans a reason to stay there. We facilitated communication between the fans because we realized that Taylor herself could only talk to so many fans at once. So we built a  community where fans could communicate with each other about their love for Taylor and her music. We also built a system where fans could turn their Facebook profiles into Taylor Swift fan sites in less than sixty seconds. It automatically extracted fans’ names and photos along with Taylor’s photos and album covers so they could have their very own fan sites. The fan sites were built on the same technology platform we used in creating Taylor’s website, so fans were able to customize and personalize all the elements of a fan site. Fans felt connected to Taylor, as if they were a part of her team—they could use the same platform that she was using and take any aspect of it and recreate it themselves. In a few months, more than thirty-five thousand fan sites were created using this platform. I don’t have exact figures, but I’m sure this was a record for the most fan sites ever created for a specific artist at the time. Witnessing how well fostering stronger connections with fans worked for Taylor’s brand planted a seed in my head. I learned that if fans felt connected, they were willing to share content, messages, and products with everyone they knew. Once I realized the power of this, it became a critical part of my whole approach. I realized that you don’t need to spend millions of dollars on marketing to reach the masses—you just have to get people to share your messages for you.

One Million Followers: How I Built a Massive Social Following in 30 Days by Brendan Kane

[buzzdixonwriter]

I've Told You A Million Times To Avoid Cliches Like The Plague

Recently a year old re-print of a 1959 Writer’s Digest article by Donald Westlake started circulating on social media.

First off, if you don’t know who Donald Westlake is, go find out.  You like rough edge crime stories, try his Parker books published under his Richard Stark pseudonym; you like funny crime, dig up the Dortmunder series under his own name; you like odd ball history, check out Under An English Heaven “being a true recital of the events leading up to and down from the British invasion of Anguilla on March 19th, 1969 in which no one was killed but many people were embarrassed.”

Second, Westlake was a serious writer in that he took the craft of writing Very Seriously indeed, no matter how light hearted and funny some of his books could be.  He wrote a blistering letter (later turned into an essay) in the fanzine Xero (starts on page 97) where he excoriated  the sci-fi field of the era as being neither artistically nor commercially viable.*

So who am I to challenge this master’s assertions?

Well, I take the craft of writing Very Seriously indeed myself, and to quote a late, lamented friend:  “Fools rush in, and there we are…”

The Writer’s Digest article is a mixed bag, partially a quick off-the-cuff job for a few bucks, partially a valid observation on pitfalls in writing popular fiction in September of 1959.

Bear the date in mind, it’s crucial to this discussion.

This was an era when Americans read a lot.  Millions of people subscribed to The Saturday Evening Post or dozens of other slick magazines (not to mention the digests, which are what the form the old genre pulps mutated into), and this meant each week dozens of new short stories or serialized novels were available to them (and that’s not counting non-fiction).

Westlake in 1959 was commenting on an over saturated market, one where too many writers and editors simply replayed old tropes over again and again because they knew a significant portion of their audience felt comfortable with them (this is particularly true in the slicks, more so than the digests).

Westlake divides his 36 plots into three groups:  Mysteries, science fiction, and slicks.

My first quibble lays in what Westlake means when he says “plot”.

From the original article:

“A plot is a planned series of connected events, building through conflict to a crisis and ending in a satisfactory conclusion. A formula is a particular plot which has become stale through over-use.

“My own working definition of plot is what I call “5C.” First, a character. Anybody at all, from Hemingway’s old man to Salinger’s teenager. Second, conflict. Something for that character to get upset about, and for the reader to get upset about through the character. Third, complications. If the story runs too smoothly, without any trouble for the character, the reader isn’t going to get awfully interested in what’s going on. Fourth, climax. The opposing forces in conflict are brought together. Like the fissionable material in an H-bomb and there’s an explosion. Fifth, conclusion. The result of the explosion is known, the conflict is over, the character has either won or lost, and there are no questions left unanswered.

“5C: Character. Conflict. Complications. Climax. Conclusion.”

All well and good, but in his article Westlake provides almost no examples of same.

To me, a plot is a quick summary of a story that lays out beginning, middle, and end:   G.I. Joe captures a Cobra secret weapon but doesn’t realize what it is.  Cobra needs to get the weapon back without alerting the Joes to its potential, and the Joes must figure out what Cobra is after before they can get their hands on it.

(There’s a lot you can do with that plot.  It can be a slam-bang action oriented story, a techno thriller, or a slapstick farce depending on your angle of attack.)

What Westlake presents are more along the lines of story springboards:  ”What would happen if…”

A lot of the situations Westlake presents are rife with potential: “John Smith is sitting in the park, feeding the other squirrels, when a beautiful girl runs up, kisses him, and whispers, ‘Pretend you know me.’”

Okay, let’s list the possibilities, shall we?

She’s being stalked by a creepy guy and needs protection…

She’s been hired to set Smith up for some reason…

She’s mentally disturbed from trauma in her past…

She’s a flipping psycho intending to kill Smith…

She’s a secret agent slipping a secret code in Smith’s pocket…

She’s a silly college girl doing this on a dare, unaware Smith is a serial killer…

Six stories right off the top of my head, and each one could be played in several different ways, from deadly serious to over the top farce.

That’s a lot of potential in a single trope.

Here’s another: “John Smith, private eye, is sitting at his desk, when Marshall Bigelow, thimble tycoon, trundles in waving thousand-dollar bills and shouting, ‘My daughter has disappeared!’”

Well, d’uh, isn’t that what private eyes do?  Find missing people?  Or uncover who committed a crime when people don’t want the police involved?  Or find out if a spouse is cheating?

Name a private eye story that doesn’t play off some variant of this.  From Murder, My Sweet to Harper to Shaft, hiring a private eye to find a missing person is a perfect way to get a story started.  “You find my Velma.”

Of the dozen story springboards he offers in his mystery section, none are unworkable, though two remain overly familiar to this day and probably are best avoided unless the writer can provide some incredible new spin.  

The science fiction section is more problematic, and here’s where I suspect Westlake was slumming (there ought to be an article on the type of articles one shouldn’t write for Writer’s Digest that includes articles like the one Westlake wrote).

Seven of the eleven clearly reference classics of the genre, and if this wasn’t a deliberate dig at those authors on Westlake’s part, one can only argue that while they may be shopworn now due to retreads by the untalented, these ideas remain strong enough to support a good story.

The other four remain headscratchers.  Two -- Adam & Eve and “atoms are tiny solar systems” -- are indeed hoary old ideas, burned off by EC comics earlier in the decade. 

I can’t say there weren’t thirteen year old aspiring sci-fi writers who submitted these to publishers and editors back in the day, but they seem more likely to have been found on the pages of fanzines (i.e., what sci-fi geeks had before the Internet) than a professional slush pile.

We know Westlake was active to some degree in sci-fi fandom of that era; could those two tropes have come from seeing those stories in the pages of amateur magazines?

The remaining two ideas represent a ribald attitude I don’t recall seeing in sci-fi digests of that era.

Oh, sex was starting to rear its beautiful head in science fiction, and there were a few cutting edge stories, but these two seem more like set ups for smutty fanfic, not genuine submissions of the time.

Again, something I’d expect to see in a fanzine, not a professional market.

Like I said, I think this tips off that Westlake is having us on, that this whole article came off the top of his head in a matter of minutes instead of being carefully thought out.

On the other hand, his critique of slick magazine fiction seems pretty spot on and devastating.

While he covers several sub-genres, his primary focus seems to be on stories written for a female audience, the type found in McCall’s and Ladies Home Journal.  He doesn’t come close to a dozen examples, however, as several (even those labeled as sub-examples) are just the same story springboard in different settings.

Two of his bad examples, however, stand out quite clearly as a dislike (whether personal / professional / aesthetic, I can’t tell) aimed at a specific series of stories found in The Saturday Evening Post, i.e., the Alexander Botts, tractor salesman stories of William Hazlett Upson.

One of Westlake’s verboten plots isn’t even a plot but a literary device: “Any story told in an exchange of letters”.  The other one that ties into Upson’s oeuvre is “Joe Doakes, a traveling salesman for a paper clip company, gets involved in some pretty unbelievable adventures in a small town in the Midwest. The other participants are a local belle and a salesman for a rival paper clip company.”

The two combined describe Upson’s Botts stories to a T.  The second one is richly ironic since Westlake eventually used the same basic premise for his Dortmunder series (the only change being Dortmunder is a thief, not a salesman; po-tay-to, po-tah-to).

Finally, Westlake left himself a huge out with “If you can take one of the 36 clichés listed above, and give it a brand new twist, so it doesn’t look like the same story any more, you may have a sale on your hands. If you search hard enough in the magazines on the stands today, you’ll find one or more of these variations currently in print.”

Look, I get it.  I’ve faced deadline doom before myself, and more than once have fired off a short piece that contained all the depth of a dixie cup.

This isn’t the worst writing advice I’ve seen, but it’s far from the best, and Westlake coulda and shoulda done better.

  © Buzz Dixon

   *  He wasn’t alone in his opinion, though ironically the 1960s proved to be one of the most fertile eras for the genre.  Yet Westlake and other writers such as John D. MacDonald, Frederic Brown, and John Jakes left sci-fi for other genres because it couldn’t support them either as artists or professionals.

#Donald Westlake #writing #how this writer's mind works #William Hazlett Upson

[jaehyun-eclipsed]

Before I Met You | Thirteen

Updates: Sundays

Pairing: NCT (Jaehyun, Lucas, Mark, Jaemin, Johnny) X Reader/OC

Genre: Romance, Angst, Coming of Age

Summary: Four. There were four people before I fell in love with you… Here are their stories.

Warnings: Some swearing and mentions of mature content

Before I Met You Masterlist

Prev | Next

Choi Jisu.

Interestingly, I don’t actually know Jisu personally. I only know of her. She’s a year older than me and I only recognize her because she was dating an upperclassman from my high school when he became a student here. She was always tagging him in their photos together.

I scoff. No wonder I hadn’t been seeing those lately. She has a new man. I sigh. Small world.

I select her profile and begin clicking through her viewable photos. Jisu is an avid photo taker – and not the artistic kind. She’s the kind that clearly demonstrates the need to post about everything she does for social, and ultimately, external validation – as illustrated by her endless number of publicly available photo albums, allowing me to quickly discover that she participates in beauty pageants… and wins.

And as I juggle all that information, it starts to make sense. She’s used to being the center of attention. In fact, she likes being the center of attention and being treated like she’s important, hence her behavior regarding Jaemin opening the door for her. She has “high maintenance” written all over her.

As I continue browsing through her photos, I notice that all of the pictures she had with the guy from my high school are gone. Jisu clearly likes publicizing all of her relationships while she’s in them… and then quickly deleting any evidence of them as soon as they’re over as if they never even happened.

Wouldn’t that bother her? Having all 700 of her Facebook friends be able to pinpoint when she started a new relationship and with whom. One boyfriend after another – someone who clearly has difficulties being alone. It’s common for a lot of people, but why would you want everyone to know?

Her second most recent album that’s titled “Third Year – Summer” is where I find the photos of relevance – the photos showcasing her new and blooming romance with Jaemin. Most of them are pretty standard: dinner outings and various dates to the park and ice cream parlor.

My nostrils flare as I glare at the screen. That scumbag. Blatantly flirting with me when he has a girlfriend that he has conveniently left out of every conversation we’ve ever had!

I don’t know what to do with this information.

Wow, Jaemin! You probably thought you were so slick – and I’ll admit, you had me there for a second! But you made the mistake of bringing her home and coincidentally, I happen to know her. That last bit isn’t your fault, but really, what are the chances in a school with thousands of people?

I am not okay with this! We’ve already had an experience of a guy with a girlfriend flirting with me and it didn’t end well!

Am I just supposed to back off? But I didn’t do anything. I’m not even supposed to know anything!

I huff in irritation. I genuinely need help in physics and Jaemin has been quite helpful the last couple times I asked him. I conclude that I have two options: continue what I’ve been doing and act like I know nothing or find a new physics tutor.

The first option is purely convenient since he lives right down the hall and I know he can help, but it tests my moral conscience. The second option is more work on my part because I’d have to go through the tedious task of finding a new person and determining whether or not they’re any good.

But then I ask myself another question: am I actually doing anything wrong? I’m not the one who’s flirting. I can’t control how he acts around me. I’m not even supposed to know about this… but my conscience reminds me that I unfortunately do know about this.

Goddamn. Why’d I have to be home at this time?

Screw my conscience, I need help. My grade is more important and the flirting is kind of flattering.

And that’s the thing about the supposed “ignorance is bliss”: it can be taken away from you at any time, without your consent.

Hydroxyl groups are alcohols including methanol, ethanol, etc. They are polar and can form hydrogen bonds. Have the ability to assist in dissolving compounds such as sugars.

A carbonyl group is a carbon atom connected to an oxygen atom via a double bond.

I roll my eyes and chuck my highlighter to the side, sighing in annoyance as I look around the empty dining room. I’m so lame. It’s Friday night and I’m sitting at home studying.

Despite having adjusted a bit better at the beginning of my second year, I still haven’t made many friends that I can hang out with. The “friends” I have are mostly acquaintances – classmates that I could contact if I ever need anything for class. That’s why I was quite thrilled that Jaemin seemed pretty cool and that he actually liked spending time with me. But I’m not sure how I feel about this new revelation. Based on the superficial facts, I have qualms to pick with his moral compass.

So I started contemplating other housemates I was interested in getting to know – people I could come home to and hang out with in the common rooms. Jaemin’s other roommate – Jeno – seemed worth speaking to. Renjun is polite, but he’s built a nearly impenetrable wall to his friendship. Perhaps he’s just more comfortable with guys.

I turn my head when Jeno walks into the dining room. We make eye contact for several seconds before he turns away and continues into the kitchen. That’s how it always is with him. He’s always expressionless when he looks at me, but his eyes appear to betray him with that lingering glance that tells me he knows something.

I hear the opening of cabinets, the clanging of pots and pans followed by the stove fan being turned on.  

I don’t know what’s so scary about going up to new people – like you’re constantly afraid of being judged for talking to them. I know they don’t care, but this feels different considering Jeno and I have seen each other many times, never acknowledging each other, just… staring.

Jeno? He’s nice. You should introduce yourself to him!

Jaemin’s encouraging words convince me to get up from my seat and walk into the kitchen. Jeno is standing in front of the stove, cutting vegetables. Slowly, I walk up to him, tilting my head and peering up at him. He jumps a bit when he turns around, startled by my sudden appearance.

“Hi,” I say with a smile. “Um, you’re Jaemin’s roommate, right?”

“Yeah!” He returns a wide grin. “I’m Jeno.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N.”

He extends his hand out to me, barely gripping my hand – almost as if he’s afraid he’ll break it – and lightly shaking it up and down.

“Jaemin told me you’re a chemistry major?”

“Yeah, how about you?”

“Biology.”

We proceed to ask each other the standard series of questions: Where are you from? What classes are you taking this semester? Are you part of any clubs?

And of course, I always mention my struggles with physics because I’m half hoping he’ll have another suggestion in case I decide I want to jump the Jaemin-ship.

“Oh yeah, I took physics last semester,” he responds. “It was terrible because I hate math so I’m taking a break this semester. You should ask Jaemin for help. He’s much better at it than me.”

Goddammit.

“Yeah, I’ve been asking him for help. He’s been helpful…”

A silence passes between us and when I look up at Jeno again, he has this weird look on his face. The corner of his mouth is upturned and his eyes are – well, they look like they’re undressing me. And then I realize that it’s nearly identical to that mischievous look Jaemin has.

Good Lord, do all three of you have the same look?

Actually, you know what? I don’t want to find out.

“I’ll let you get back to cooking,” I say, abruptly heading towards the door. “It was nice meeting you.”

“What were you doing?” Jia asks when I return to our room towards the end of Saturday night.

“I was doing my physics problem set and studying for the bio midterm next week.”

“Ooh,” she coos suggestively. “Were you with Jaemin?”

“No. He’s going to help me tomorrow because went to a football game tonight.”

Hmm… I bet Jisu was there with him.

There’s a stupid grin on her face when I turn to look at her. “Do you like him?”

“No.”

“Really? You guys look like you get along really well.”

“Yeah, he’s fun to hang out with.”

“But you don’t like him?”

“No.”

“But –”

Thankfully Jia’s laptop starts ringing. Her parents are calling her from Beijing. I excuse myself, grabbing my laptop, phone, and water bottle to sit in the little inlet in the hallway until she gets off her call.

I know she suspects something and her inexperience with boys is what naturally makes her curious. According to her, she’s never had a crush on anyone. Not sure I totally believe that. And she’s not aware of anyone who has ever had a crush on her. Actually, she’s never had any guy friends and had once asked me how you communicate with them, her tone almost implying that they were an alien species. Like I said, she’s been quite sheltered most of her life. So she’s slowly learning things. I only wish I wouldn’t have to be the one she asks to tell her what a blowjob is.

When I left my room, I noticed that Jaemin’s door was cracked open. Actually, it’s always cracked open like that. And normally, it’s quiet, but tonight, I quickly learn, is a much different story.

“My girlfriend fucked up the pizza,” Jaemin says disdainfully.

So she was at the game…

“How do you fuck up pizza?” Jeno asks.

“She got cheddar pizza.”

“Cheddar pizza?”

“It doesn’t taste bad.” I hear the microwave door slam. “But it still tastes kinda weird. She also gave me a bunch of coupons.”

“For what?” Jeno asks.

“This one says ‘fifteen minutes of oral.’”

I nearly spit out my water. The hell?

“Fifteen minutes?!” Jeno responds in disbelief. “Can you even last fifteen minutes?!”

“Shut up!”

“Wait, maybe you can see if it can be fifteen minutes total,” Renjun says. “So if it takes you ten times to get to the fifteen –”

“You fucking –”

The rest of Jaemin’s crude response is muffled due to a loud crash. I imagine he threw something at Renjun given that Renjun and Jeno are uncontrollably laughing and I have to cover my mouth to prevent myself from laughing out loud. 

“But yeah,” Jaemin continues. “She gives me these coupons like, ‘You win this fight,’ ‘I won’t get mad when you fall asleep on me,’ ‘I won’t complain when you say you say you want to hang out with your guy friends’ –”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jeno interrupts. “She won’t complain when you say you want to hang out with your guy friends? Isn’t that sorta… shouldn’t that be a given?”

There’s a look of horror on my face as I process what I’ve just heard. Jisu sounds… let’s just say I would not want to be dating her.

“Exactly! She’s crazy!” Jaemin exclaims. “If I spend more time with her, I get more of these things and they’re kind of useful. But I don’t want to spend more time with her…”

“I didn’t really talk to her at the game, but she didn’t seem like she was enjoying it much,” Jeno says.

I purse my lips and run my tongue along my front teeth, completely stunned and quite frankly, somewhat amused that I happened to be out here at the time they were discussing this.

Wow, Jaemin, that sounds like a really secure relationship. Congratulations. If you hate her so much, why are you even dating – oh – the fifteen minutes…

All of these revelations were a disappointing confirmation. First, Jaemin actually does have a girlfriend. He said the G word himself. Second, Jisu is just as high maintenance as I had been able to analyze from her photos. And third, Jaemin is a liar! Well, actually, he hasn’t lied to me. He’s just conveniently left things out.

The alarm bells in my head have started ringing off the hook. At first, they were just there in the background, an occasional beep to warn of a possible danger. But I think now is safe to say that he’s a flirt – and he’s good at hiding it. That’s what makes him so dangerous.

The next afternoon after meeting with Jaemin, I had scheduled a call with Mark. We finally managed to figure out a time that worked for both of us and I had insisted that it was quite important. I was quite irked as I had actually confirmed that third assumption from last night.

I walk up the stairs shortly before my call time, taking note of Jaemin’s door slightly ajar again. As I near my door, I pause when I hear Renjun’s voice.

“Where’s Jaemin?”

“I think he’s out with –”

Dammit. Did he say Jisu?

“Again?”

“Yeah, he hasn’t been very happy lately,” Jeno responds.

“He should just break up with her,” Renjun says.

I continue onto my room, trying to make my footsteps almost silent to make sure they don’t suspect anyone is listening to them, but I nearly drop my things after hearing Renjun’s next question.

“Do you know anything about Y/N?”

“I talked to her once. She’s nice. I think Jaemin likes her though. She’s pretty attractive.”

“Do you think she knows about –?”

“I don’t know –

Suddenly, I hear someone coming up the stairs and shortly thereafter, one of my neighbors rounds the corner. I make eye contact with her, realizing how weird it is for me to be standing in the middle of the hallway. Quickly, I begin acting like I’m shifting my things into one arm in an attempt to grab my keys.

– Probably not. Jaemin never brings her here.”  

“Hey, Y/N!” she greets.

Fuck.

“Hi…”

I turn away quickly, tapping the key fob against my door and run inside.

“No, Mark, I’m serious! He has a girlfriend!”

“How’d you find out?”

I relay to him my story from last week – walking by Jaemin’s room and overhearing Jisu by happenstance, strategizing my method of figuring out who she was, the Facebook discovery, the coupons…

“And he’s been flirting with you like that? And spending three plus hours with you helping you do your homework?” he asks in disbelief. “Yo, Y/N, this guy sounds like trash.”

“He was helping me with physics today and I asked him who he went to the football game with and he said he only went with his roommates. He lied straight through his teeth!”

“I mean, it’s not like he’d actually tell you. He hasn’t told you before.”

“I kept trying to ask him some questions that would easily allow him to say something about it, but he never did.” I purse my lips. “He’s not stupid though. He probably knew I was fishing for information.”

“Wait, wait, wait, I have another question, Y/N. Who gives coupons like that?!”

“Uh… an insecure person?”

Mark lets out a loud sigh. “I mean – I – I can understand giving out coupons for like… a massage or to cook their favorite dinner. You know? Something cute like that. But these are just weird.”

Clicking my tongue, I respond, “Yeah, that was my conclusion. He doesn’t seem to like her very much though. Not sure why he doesn’t just break up with her.”

“Yo, he’s probably scared.”

“I was just hoping that you wouldn’t also confirm that he sounds like trash.”

“Why? Do you like him?”

“No, I’m not interested in dating him. I think he’s fun to hang around and I want to be his friend, but I feel like that’ll be kinda complicated.”

“Do you know what his girlfriend is like?”

“Only from what I’ve seen and overheard. She sounds –” I scrunch my face is displeasure “– high maintenance. She does beauty pageants… and wins.”

“So she’s pretty,” he concludes.

“Yeah, she’s pretty. I don’t really know why he’s interested me if he’s dating this pageant girl.”

“What are you talking about? Y/N, have you looked in a mirror? You’re really pretty,” he says. “And I’m not just saying that because I’m your friend.”

I’m thankful that Mark can’t see my expression since we’re talking on the phone.

“I met his roommate the other day. I don’t – I don’t know how I feel about him. He was looking at me like he was undressing me.”

“See! I told you!”

“But Mark, he’s a college guy. He’s probably interested in sleeping with any girl that’s at least a seven and is okay with ‘no strings attached.’”

Mark is silent for a moment.

“Y/N?”

“What?”

“You know that you just admitted that you’re at least a seven, right?”

“…your point?”

“I’m just saying! Anyway, you know that there’s only one reason why Jaemin wouldn’t tell you he has a girlfriend, right?”

I have a feeling I know what the reason is, but I entertain Mark’s question.

“What’s that?”

“That he’s looking for someone else… someone else meaning you.”

Prev | Next

Before I Met You Masterlist Masterlist

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct dream #wayv #jung jaehyun #jaehyun #nct jaehyun #jung yoonoh #nct lucas #lucas wong #wong yukhei #mark lee #nct mark #na jaemin #nct jaemin #before i met you

[svtskneecaps]

i’ve been enabled

here’s the sitch on the goddamn harry potter hogwarts mystery app game

it fucking sucks

here’s my main issues in a handy list i’ll go down later:

the gameplay

energy

art / visuals

the story

the writing

the choose your own adventure like elements (technically gameplay since there isn’t much else l m a o)

and i have receipts for most of this stuff. fun fact, i’ve been taking videos of all plot relevant events since year 1.

some context:

i’ve played up to year 3 myself. i have watched up until the very beginning of year 5 in someone’s youtube series (will bits? that was his main character [henceforth referred to as MC]’s name, however that was a year ago and it was in the background like a podcast so the details are sort of fuzzy. i have not played the game since march (it’s september, ish), but i’m loading it up as i type this just to get a feel for it

idk whether to assume my audience has or hasn’t played the game. i’ll keep my complaints as clear as possible.

i’m mainly an author so the storytelling sections are where i’m really going to pop off, since that’s something i have the most experience with and passion in, but i’ll be touching on everything else because compounded it’s all pissing me off lmao

[a couple hints at spoilers for maybe an event in year 1, and year 3, but nothing major]

let’s start with: THE GAMEPLAY

there isn’t any

literally. there’s like. zero gameplay.

you tap some highlighted figures, and then sometimes you get to trace a little shape, and sometimes you get to play rock paper scissors to fight somebody (they did manage to make duelling slightly better but it’s still not good by any standard)

sometimes you get to choose between three dialogue options, but those have barely any impact on the story or on your character. any impact they have is limited to a couple stat points, or maybe some house points, or like. some event at the end of the year. but like barely any make any real serious difference (but i’ll touch on that more later)

and then there’s the factor of stat points (and this gets kind of mathy, so feel free to skip to the bolded sentence)

for those who haven’t played the game, you have three stats (empathy, courage, and knowledge) that you can level up by taking classes, 1, 3, or 8 hours, for various rewards

back when i stopped playing, i had gained 8914 points in courage. if i recall correctly i was only about halfway to leveling up that stat. if you take an 8 hour class, you receive consistently 200 stat points, with a possibility of extra rewards that i can’t count for since those are randomly generated.

to get those 8914 points, i would have had to take 44.57 8 hour classes (while 8 hour they only take about 7, counting for the 2 hours it takes my energy to recharge to full). with 44.57 classes taking 7 hours each, to get halfway to level 24, i would have had to have done:

THIRTEEN STRAIGHT DAYS OF GRINDING, ASSUMING THAT ALL I HAD BEEN DOING WAS CHECKING ON THE HARRY POTTER HOGWARTS MYSTERY APP

and again, I WAS ONLY LIKE HALFWAY TO LEVELLING UP

I AM BARELY BEGINNING FOURTH YEAR. I AM NOT EVEN HALFWAY THROUGH THIS GAME.

i think they’ve fixed this now; it said i had 8914/1550 courage and when i got stat points it fixed itself and jumped me from level 23 to 28, so thanks for that jam city.

but it doesn’t change the fact that the grinding is fucking horrible and i’ve done my fair share of hours, and who knows what it’s going to look like when i get to a higher level again

the energy

yes, i know it’s an app game. i know they want my money. but holy FUCK the energy recharges disgustingly slowly, and every bit they expand my energy bar is an insult

“here, have another energy capacity!” they say, and then add to the amount of energy it takes to complete a task at the same time, so now shit just takes me even damn longer

it’s an insult. don’t think i didn’t fuckin notice jam city.

since it’s an app game, naturally, energy requires paying real world money or the (semi) rare in-game currency to get more if you blow through your bar. they want your money. i know they want my money, but it doesn’t make me any less disappointed by how damn blatant they’re being. app games like bakery story probably also want my money, but at least those are still fun to play.

the art / visuals

now i’m not an artist. nor am i a 3-d modeller. but if solo indie devs and 10 men teams can make video games that have to have models with a much fuller range of motion (since there’s ACTUAL GAMEPLAY and not just little cutscenes of characters moving around) and that don’t make me sick to watch, then jam city working on a HARRY POTTER GAME should be able to (jk rowling fucking sucks but her books have brought in so much goddamn money that they can afford to pay their devs enough to make the game look good; in this case i’m not entirely sure where the blame lies)

there’s like. 10 motions characters can use while in the cutscenes and talking. like 10. and i can recognize every one of them, and there is not a single motion unique to a character. the characters are something i’ll touch on later in the storytelling sections, though. just, please god give them SOMETHING even SLIGHTLY different. like make two versions of a couple of the crowd animations at LEAST, so that when people celebrate at the end of the year there’s not twenty people in the shot doing the same “pump my fists in the air in celebration” motion at the exact same time. PLEASE.

sometimes animations in story events and classes sync up too, which is. beyond distracting. like it’s completely immersion breaking and i mean please, please jam city, if you haven’t fixed that please fix it. please.

the animations that roll in flying class are fun, ONCE. when you’ve seen them eight hundred thousand times because you’re grinding up your courage stat, they get hella boring. all of the classes are like this to some extent but flying is the biggest offender since those were the longest animations. if they haven’t implemented a skip button since i last played it, they should. they fuckin should.

also the fertilizer animation in the greenhouse scenes is gross. you pick up a deformed cone of dirt with your shovel like a slice of cake and then shove it clipping through the edges of a pot, where it disappears without a trace. i hate it. jam city please make the game look good.

if you still play the game please tell me it looks better; i’ll be playing through a couple things after i post this but it’s hphm. it’s gonna take me a goddamn long time to hit all the points and confirm whether what i complained about has been fixed or not

also also, wearing dresses is so distracting, especially while dueling. the way the dress flexes around your legs is like you’re wearing clothing made from jello and when my character does the idle animation her hands clip through her skirt, and there’s all kids of glitches with hair where it clips through outfits (and why in the fuck do the necklaces float a full foot from the character’s body)

the storytelling

alright there’s a lot to cover so strap in

i’m not mad about the story having some of the same beats as harry potter. whatever, right? if it worked, it worked. having a big climax at the end of the year just works well for storytelling. having a school bully antagonist also works well for easy storytelling (it’s kinda cheap, but whatever works, right?) it’s what you DO with the archetypes you use that makes or breaks your story

jam city broke it

i don’t know how to organize my thoughts so here’s a bulleted list

it is very clearly obvious they wrote this as they went along (ex. a previously unseen character pops up in year 3 and was supposedly the best friend of your greatest enemy in previous years) and didn’t think to fix the plot holes

there’s too many goddamn characters (i love them, but with a big cast comes a whole host of problems [I WRITE FOR A KPOP GROUP WITH 13 MEMBERS, I HAVE A LOT OF EXPERIENCE WITH THAT], and we’ll get there)

there’s too much goddamn filler for the sake of forcing us to spend time and in-game energy (yes i KNOW it’s an app game and they want our money but THEY COULD BE A LITTLE MORE SUBTLE ABOUT IT)

what honestly pisses me off the most about it is that IT COULD BE GOOD

IF THE STORY WERE GOOD, I WOULD FUCKIN IGNORE ALL OF THAT OTHER SHIT

but it’s not, and here’s the biggest gripe i have:

none of the choices you make matter. none of them. to the point where it’s immersion breaking at BEST

for example, while my MC is a hufflepuff, i know a lot of people play in slytherin. scenes where snape gets upset with your character and takes away house points no longer make sense for a slytherin MC, because snape would be infinitely more likely to give you three years of nightly detentions, or pitch you off the astronomy tower, than he would be to take house points from slytherin

honestly, they should have waited. if they wanted to put choose your own adventure elements into the game, they should have planned out every single one of those story arcs in detail, and THEN released the game. they could leave some of the more basic choices in and those choices only mattering for short term effects wouldn’t irk me as much as it does right now because THERE WOULD BE CHOICES THAT MADE A DIFFERENCE.

your very first choice over how you felt about your brother’s disappearance only matters for what wand you get (which i immediately forgot which really says something about the impact of that choice :)))) ). no matter what you pick, you still end up chasing after him for the rest of the game, so who cares?

story beats don’t land different based on your house. you could absolutely play it that merula hates you regardless of your house, that’s fine. just remember that if your MC is slytherin and lives in the female dorms, she probably shares a room with merula. which makes things fucky for all kinds of reasons, none of which jam city addresses in the current game, as far as i’m aware

also, there’s the deal with rowan

rowan is a character that goes into your mc’s chosen house no matter what (and as rowan changes pronouns with your player, i’ll be using “they” [or “she” as my player is a she and that’s what i’m used to; i’ll try to refrain but i might slip up occasionally] ). as far as i can tell, rowan’s personality remains the same no matter what house you’re in. they don’t try to play up the traits that match the house, rowan is just usually a sweet bookworm. why would the hat have put them in gryffindor? rowan khanna for me has never seemed to display any gryffindorish traits; or at the very least, no traits that should be prioritized over, say, the ravenclaw traits they have VERY STRONGLY (since rowan fills a sort of hermione role; rowan knows things about things and is your go to for research)

can we just put rowan in ravenclaw? sure, it would make it hard for fans in different houses to communicate between each other about the story for a time since certain sequences of events would play out differently, but here’s the thing:

if events play out differently based on your choices, people will want to play your game multiple times to get every ending

that’s the fun of a choose your own adventure game. if events play out distinctly differently if you’re a hufflepuff or a ravenclaw or a slytherin or a gryffindor, then people will want to play through the game four times at LEAST, once for each house, to get all the fun pieces of story (WHICH MEANS, they’ll be spending more and more time and using more and more energy, so you can make the same amount of money off people buying energy and watching the ads and maybe MORE while being able to cut out some of the more shitty pieces of filler)

in the current version, your house is just, what color are your robes and who is your prefect. i haven’t watched anyone who wasn’t a hufflepuff, but i’m sure that certain scenes and conflicts play out the exact same no matter what house you’re in

as an example, your house should affect how the duelling confrontation in year one should have gone. snape and flitwick should have different dialogue based on whether you’re a slytherin, or a ravenclaw, or a gryffindor, or a hufflepuff. snape fucking hates gryffindors, so he should be far less lenient against gryffindors, and on the flip side he should be battling between himself with how strict to be if you’re a slytherin; maybe he hates your guts because of a grudge against your brother, but you’re still in his house and we all know snape plays favorites. flitwick should be more disappointed if you’re a ravenclaw, because that’s his house and he had higher expectations for you. neither of them have many ties to hufflepuff that would skew the confrontation in a drastic direction, but had this been the first version of the game, then the confrontation that plays out in the current version we have would work fine for hufflepuff; you’re one of flitwick’s favorite charms students and he taught you this skill, and he’s disappointed to see you use it in this way, but not nearly as much as if you were one of his own

AND NOW PEOPLE WANT TO PLAY THE GAME MULTIPLE TIMES TO GET ALL THE DIALOGUE, WHICH MEANS MORE TIME, MORE ENERGY, AND MORE MONEY, JAM CITY, ARE YOU HEARING THIS??? MORE MONEY!!!!! IT’S A WIN WIN FOR EVERYONE

while we’re at it, change jacob to match his house. if you’re still gonna make him have the same house as the MC, make him match it. from how all the characters describe him that bitch is as slytherin as they come, if you’re gonna make him a hufflepuff with me then give him a clear, hufflepuff motive god damnit

finally,

the characters

there’s too many.

the problem with a big cast is no one gets enough screen time and some characters end up getting shunted to the side. that’s just what happens. you HAVE to zero in on four or five side friends and let the rest of them slip to the side. looking at my friends menu there are 17 characters you can befriend, not including hagrid, the quidditch crew, dobby, talbott, and chiara (since those are, as far as i know, unlocked via side quests, which are... fine. i don’t have any particular gripes about the side quests except for the thing with lupin being twice the size of tonks which, if you’ve read the seventh book i don’t need to explain how weird that is to you)

and BECAUSE there are so many, a lot of them have to be defined by one trait. ben is a coward, rowan’s clever and booksmart, penny has her hand on the school’s pulse and makes potions, liz likes creatures, charlie fuckin loves dragons, tonks likes pranks (seriously that’s her whole personality), andre likes clothes, barnaby is a dumb jock that likes creatures

like, traits are fun. but if that’s ALL THEY HAVE, that’s when things get a little fucky

how many of these characters have dimensions? i’m in year 4 chapter 4. the first screen recording of the game i took was on december 5 of 2019, and assuming i played about a minimum of 8 hours a day (”““played”““) until the final screen recording [may 20, 2020] before i dropped the game for about six months (i know for certain it was more than that, since i had some kind of activity going on at just about all times for at least a month of that, but i’ll take the generous estimate), at bare minimum that makes 1344 hours i spent playing this game, or about 56 days (keep in mind, this is a LOW estimate)

in those 56 days of gameplay, i don’t know ANYTHING about the characters other than their utility in my quest. i don’t know penny’s favorite color or even her favorite potion to brew, or how and why she started and when [there’s a reveal in third year that i watched someone play through, but i don’t know if i ever played through it myself; i don’t have any screen recordings of the event]. i don’t know anything about ben or his family aside from the fact that he’s muggleborn. i know some basic facts about barnaby’s family, and that he’s tough and likes creatures. rowan grew up on a tree farm and i have a vague recollection of her mentioning siblings. do we know anything about them?? do i know anything about how the characters interact with each other?? are barnaby and liz friends? they both like creatures. do they talk to charlie?? do ben and penny hang out while we’re not there? are ben and jae friends?? are jae and charlie??? DO THESE CHARACTERS EXIST WHEN THEY AREN’T NEEDED FOR THE CURSED VAULTS???

why in the fuck don’t i know these characters?? why don’t we know anything about tonks other than her affinity for pranking?? there’s a sharp bias in who the writer’s favorites are (they like the characters with angsty pasts they can twist around; what do we know about ben aside from his blood status? and he’s been around since first year; he’s the second friend you unlock. i know more about barnaby and i’ve known him for a much shorter time)

if you separate the routes, you get a chance to zero in on certain characters and actually develop them. if you’re a gryffindor, you befriend ben, charlie, and jae much more quickly and they make up the closest of your friends, along with rowan, if jam city is determined to keep their tutorial character constant across all plotlines (i still think rowan should be solely a ravenclaw, but i’ll allow rowan’s house to change so long as their personality shifts to emphasize certain qualities in order to match the change in house; your house should not just determine the color your robes are)

if you’re in slytherin, maybe you befriend barnaby in place of ben in the original game, or maybe there’s an arc where you clash heads with merula (who can still be an enemy even if you’re both in slytherin; merula doesn’t like competition and the MC is exactly that) and the rest of the slytherins in your year find themselves caught in the middle; maybe there’s an arc where your MC finds themself totally alone without allies due to the conflict between them and merula (might i suggest year two, while coming up on the climax of the year?)

hufflepuffs get to focus on tonks and penny much closer. ben can also be in this plotline, but he shouldn’t take center stage (characters should cross over plotlines, but only take center stage in one, aside from perhaps rowan if rowan remains constant). maybe chiara can get implemented into the main plotline to fill out the roster, and if not, diego caplan can get implemented earlier (i haven’t met him yet and know nothing about his character)

and ravenclaws get the ravenclaw characters BUT YOU GET THE POINT, i don’t want to bore anyone by repeating myself; this is long enough as is

what i’m saying is, these characters all have a different enough base that each route will be different just by focusing on different characters; ben and jae will respond to a situation much differently than penny and tonks might, which would ALREADY shake up the storyline of each house based on which house you choose in the beginning, and then characters overlap plotlines so you could leave hints in each route to the other characters’ unique backstories and motivations that leaves the player wanting to get to know the rest of your WELL DEVELOPED CAST (((MAKE SURE THEY’RE WELL DEVELOPED OR THIS WILL NOT WORK)))

WHAT I’M SAYING IS, THIS GAME COULD HAVE BEEN SO GOOD

if they put more effort into the story then maybe i would have gunned through the hufflepuff route so quickly and then restarted to go through all the rest of them. if you want people playing your game for longer then THAT is the way to go

yes, it will take time. yes, it will take effort. but you know what?

IT’LL ALSO MAKE YOU A FUCKTON OF MONEY FROM PLAYERS PLAYING EACH ROUTE IN FULL AND THEN PLAYING THEIR FAVORITE ROUTES AGAIN SO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WAITING FOR

anyway, what i’m saying is, i hate this game so much because of the potential it had to succeed, and the potential it had to be a really good game. even if they didn’t change the gameplay much, even if they didn’t change the models, i could get past ALL OF THAT if the story was interesting

so uh. jam city, if you’re reading this, please. i will let you take away all of my days of playing this. i will let you render all of my progress obsolete and send me plummeting back into my first year at hogwarts to go through the game again, if you JUST, MAKE, MULTIPLE, ROUTES!!! MAKE MY CHOICES MATTER DAMN YOU!!!!!!!!

i’m also willing to let you use the ideas i posited here without credit or payment. because that sounds like a legal hassle and i am far too lazy to deal with that sort of thing, i just want to play a good game. please. please give me a good game to play.

also, make energy take 3 minutes to recharge. please.

so uh

TL;DR : i hate this game. and i wish i didn’t hate this game.

#harry potter hogwarts mystery #hphm #idk if i want to bother making this show up in the tags but i did put a lot of work into it #i'll try lmao #penny haywood #rowan khanna #charlie weasley #ben copper #fuckin idek what else to tag #bill weasley #andre egwu #barnaby lee #not kpop #shut up vic #seriously vic shut up it's a harry potter mobile app it's not that deep l m a o #tulip karasu #talbott winger #the ladies love talbott i gotta tag him lmao #oof i'd tag jae but like i'm 80% sure somebody in kpop has the exact same name and i don't want this showing up in those tags #but uh it might anyway just cause i tagged it with 'not kpop' #so uh #sorry? i did try #liz tuttle #i didn't even namedrop half these people #merula snyde #ismelda murk #is that enough tags #can i stop now #i'm gonna stop now #thanks for enabling me guys

[migleefulmoments]

I..... can't believe Abby just posted 'meta' relating Lucy Goosey from ATOM to her evil version of Mia. Lucy is the kid version of Mother Goose, someone Chris has named MULTIPLE TIMES as his favorite character. This is a gold mine of tinhat tropes- contradicting themselves while showing they know nothing about the source material they are trying to analyze. It makes me feel bad for Chris, that his books are warped like that by people that pretend to be his fans.

I just sent Metaloma a DM about this very thing. Not only does she have no concept of the source material, but she also doesn’t get the pun that starts the entire piece “Lucy Goose pronounced “Goosey”’. Instead, she claims it reminds her of Darren pronouncing Mia’s last name “Which is not how it looks”.  Um, dunce head, EVERYONE who pronounces Mia’s last name correctly pronounces it “not how it looks”.  That is some low key racism there Abby since the names that are pronounced “not how they look” are names that come from other languages. The rest of the meta is as you said, a gold mine of cc tropes as well as Abby’s twisted school-girl fantasy of Mia’s personality and behavior- none of them real. 

I was reading about Ezmia earlier today as I wondered what fairytale the name originally came from. I couldn’t find anything but I did read a synopsis of Chris’s character. Five-year-old Ezmia was abandoned and alone in the forest after her entire village was slaughtered. The Fairy Godmother found her and raised her and “She became a fairy in the Land of Stories, a kind, honest, loving young woman who loved to help others”. The other fairies were jealous, evil magic dust was thrown and Ezmia’s became isolated and lonely.  You can read more (X). Abby must not remember that part of the story because Ezmia’s story is sad and deserves some empathy. Basically, her story is ccDarren’s story.  

I was also struck how the description of Ezmia’s adult personality is literally the exact description that Abby uses to describe Mia:

Appearance and Personality "Once upon a time, there was an enchantress," the Evil Queen began. "She was unlike all the fairies and witches that had ever lived before her; she lived without consequence and lived on desire and desire alone. She gave herself anything and everything she wanted, never caring how or who she hurt by doing so."[1]Standing in the doorway was a tall and beautiful woman. She had long magenta hair that floated and rippled above her like slow-moving flames. Her eyes were violet with long feathered eyelashes like moths' antennae. She wore a long purple gown with matching gloves and a high collar. A ghostly cape flowed around her and through the halls like a thick sheet of smoke

Abby’s post: 

Let’s Talk about the Book Again, Shall We? I was inspired by the excerpt of sequel!

This post is about the character, who I don’t think is M, though in later books, who know (she seems to perhaps have a turn in A T/ale of W/itchraft?), but I think she less desirable traits are absolutely modeled after M.  Some of my fav quotes under read more.  C I love you, I laughed at loud at some of these lines.

Lucy Goosey or as she pronounces it, “Goo-say” which we would know if we had any “class.”  Just reminds me so much of D pronouncing PBB’s last name which is not how it looks:)

C’s introduction of Lucy Goo-say:

“The girl wore a black bowler hat, an oversize black jumpsuit, big black boots, and a bottlecap necklace.  She carried a small suitcase made from a taxidermy porcupine, and a canteen made from a beaver skull was draped over her shoulder.

On describing her perception of her talents:

“We are not just a family, we’re the Goose Troupe! You can’t have a band without its star tambourine player.”

And:

“and exceptional talent… don’t forget exception talent.”

And

“And I have thousands of adoring fans.”

Our Lucy hates performing in the Southern Kingdom, due to the restrictions, described as follows, which are admittedly horrible but makes me think of things that would be of concern to our fake Mrs.:

“They’ve got all these rules about what artists are allowed to do.  We can’t sing profanity, we can’t play loudly, we can’d dance crudely, everyone has to be clothed- it takes all the fun out of it! I can’t even bang my tambourine on my hip without being fined!”

On describing Ms. Goo-say’s bedroom:

“As she stepped inside, Brystal had to remind herself she was stepping into a thirteen year old girl’s bedroom, because Lucy’s chamber looked like a tavern.” Huh, tavern, Swiller’s favorite type of place.

And my Favorite line perhaps in the entire book as it describes PBB, I mean L/ucy, so well and is a sign in her bedroom (this line wakes me want to kiss C it is so fabulous):

“PLAY HARD, WORK HARDLY.”

And upon meeting a troll, Lucy  describes herself as a “celebrity” and declares:

“I’m Lucy Goose, of the world renowned Goose Troupe. I’m sure you have been to one of my shows.  Me and my family have performed for trolls and goblins all over the In-Between.  We’re kind of a big deal around here.”

The Troll replies:

“oh yes, I remember you.  You’re the fat girl who hit the obnoxious box of chimes until I had a splitting headache.”

Remind anyone of a member of an internationally renowned touring band?

#chrisspeaksthroughatom  #atomspoilers