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sawdustandgin · 3 years

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A Year of Happiness, Joy and Sarcasm: My 2020 in Review

Absolutely nothing needs to be said about the year of our lord 2020 that hasn’t already been shouted from every social media platform like a shrieking alarm alerting us that the ship is sinking. We know. We’re all wet.

I will not remember 2020 as mask-clad because I didn’t take any photos while wearing one.

Every December, I reflect on the year through a short essay, allowing myself many opportunities to gush about the music that I didn’t include on my best-of lists but that I still loved dearly. (Though I guess I skipped last year. I found an abandoned draft the other day…) And consistently, I have regarded each year as one of transition.

I don’t have clear career aspirations outside of wanting to engage with music as deeply and personally as I can; my only concrete life plan is to profile small towns across the country through the lens of its local music scene. So, with this nebulous image of a future endeavor, I have had a tumultuous time with money since losing my job two years ago. I realized fairly quickly, after only a few months of foundering at it, that I was unable to freelance my way to a liveable income. And in all honesty, this was for the best—nothing hurts worse than realizing the activity you are most passionate about has become a chore. I stopped worrying about pitching editors and trying to rub elbows, and I got to work applying for jobs. I, incredibly luckily, secured one after a few more months. The adjustment to being unemployed was a leap for me and my deep desire for a routine, but the adjustment to being employed and trying to maintain a balance between day job and side gig was even harder.

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Then I loosened up a bit. Toward the end of last year, I tried to make a vow to be more consistent with the blog, but instead, I prioritized sleep. At the time, I didn’t realize that it was an either/or scenario and probably would have made a greater effort to avoid my television if I had. But ultimately, I had to accept that my relationship with music journalism was on my terms. And regardless of how [in]frequently I ‘discovered’ new artists (for myself), I wasn’t ‘missing out’ on anything.

And let’s be real, I wasn’t overly eager to listen to new stuff starting around April. I put so much energy into not losing myself in quarantine that I tuckered myself out before shit really hit the ceiling. When I began thinking toward my year-end lists in November, I began to worry that this would be my most deflated best-of season in recent memory.

That’s ok, Zoë, no one really cares about top ten lists, I can hear you thinking, colored by a fascination with my determination. But as a double cancer and pisces moon, I like to cling to the art that moves my soul (read: ~nostalgia~). And so I take great joy in spending all of December and most of January repeatedly listening to my favorite music until I conjure a partially arbitrary ranking system and create playlists galore. It really is the best time of the year.

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Of course, there are always a few titles that need no additional spins, whether due to automatic disqualification or simply because I listened so much that I know it intimately. The automatic disqualifications this year were particularly striking.

A few easy omissions were Chromatica, Positions, and Fetch the Bolt Cutters. Lady Gaga delivered her skip-less album around the time when it became clear that the pandemic was not even somewhat close to containment; my roommate and I cooked to Chromatica every night, singing along to every word. With each new record, Ariana Grande becomes a more graceful songwriter, and it also helps that Positions is a plain ol', boot-knockin’ good time. And the raw power Fiona Apple wields in Fetch the Bolt Cutters would be frightening were she not the perfect vessel to deliver it to us.

Then there is the category of albums that simply didn’t need my (albeit dim) spotlight: Set My Heart on Fire Immediately, græ, and KicK i are each masterpieces in their own right. They each move purposefully through diverse landscapes, each song a new adventure not bound by genre or expectation. Interestingly, Perfume Genius and Moses Sumney were never mainstays in my music rotation, while my love for Arca is unquestioned.

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That leads us to Re-Animator, I’m Your Empress Of and The Mosaic of Transformation, all of which I actively feel bad for disqualifying. I’m too much of a fan of Everything Everything to impartially write about their new album, though it was one of my most frequently played. I have been writing best-of lists for six years now and I would prefer to write about a constantly expanding, diverse group of artists. That means I can’t keep doting on Empress Of, despite her status as one of our best contemporary artists. Me and Us were truly just prelude to her 2020 record, whose title is a formal introduction. Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith is also the most talented analog synth musician that I personally have ever engaged with, and her latest album is everything I could have wanted.

It took some self-control (aka strict time management) to not write a few thousand words about The Ascension. Let’s recall my massive thesis on Carrie & Lowell… Yes, I am a former Catholic who thrives in the ambiguous invocation of Scripture, especially from a songwriter who quite literally shaped my taste in music. Luckily, I’m not nearly as pent up with anger and existential dread as in 2015 when I was, for the first time, processing the physical and emotional distance from my family. This elongated emotional breakdown was spurred by drama between my parents, but was also due to an irrational fear I held about my own mother’s death. Listening to Sufjan Stevens forgive his mother on her figurative deathbed has stayed with me.

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The anxiety I felt about 2020 was almost entirely external, so the gorge formed from the current of The Ascension was not nearly as deep a canyon in my heart as C&L, though it is still an affecting 80-minute journey. Stevens’ production, when coupled with his lyricism, is a breakthrough, though I do hear murmurs of folktronica from earlier in the decade. (I’m begging everyone to listen to Under Our Beds by Consilience.) And for perhaps the first time, there were songs that I occasionally skip. If I still had to commute to work, I bet they would have grown on me. In fact, this would have been a perfect driving album—one that wouldn’t cause me to weep while on the interstate. (oh Carrie. oh Lowell.)

Then there was VOL.II by my dear friend Lauren Ruth Ward. She gave me an opportunity to write a unique interview with her about the record to be printed on the inside of the gatefold, making it a permanent fixture on this most exciting of sophomore albums. I could not justify writing anything more about it, if only to preserve the sanctity of that interview, which I gave more effort and attention than any other piece of writing I had done. It was a wonderful and inspiring experience that I hope to replicate. The most heartbreaking part of the pandemic’s onset, from a social perspective, was not being able to visit Lauren after the record was released.

With all that said, 2020 was about so much more than the music I listened to. All the digital replacements for physical intimacy during lockdown made me realize that my legacy (aka all my music writing) is fragile, locked into the impermanence of the internet. So I took it upon myself to build a physical archive; in the fall, I finalized a zine template, and the first eight issues are in the can. (So far, I have 19 zines planned. Email me if you are interested in having one!)

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I’ve also been living without a front tooth since mid-March. On one hand, it’s been convenient to wear a mask to hide the hole in my mouth, but on the other hand, all I want to do is bite into an apple. (For almost two years before I even knew I had to have my tooth removed, I had been forced to slice apples before being able to eat them. The abject humiliation.) The journey with my dentists and oral surgeon has been excruciating, to say the least. Who knew three people in the same medical practice could have such mightily different styles of care? [Author’s note: I got my crown after writing this essay! :grinning-emoji:]

In sum, it was my image of myself that I was able to see a bit clearer this year. Each year I think that I’ve figured something else out about myself, which had always led me to believe that I am a most-complex, divine being. But I think a more accurate interpretation is that, put simply, I am not static. My thoughts and emotions adapt to life and life doesn’t seem to stop throwing me around like sneakers in a tumbling dryer. My pronouns are now they/them and while I don’t have many specifics as to why, I just know that this feels right.

I hope your year was at least acceptable; 2021 promises a host of new challenges, but I think we can take ‘em.

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#year in review #best of #best of 2020 #music blog #music review #Lady Gaga #Ariana Grande #Fiona Apple #Perfume Genius #Moses Sumney #Arca #Everything Everything #Empress Of #Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith #Sufjan Stevens #Consilience #Lauren Ruth Ward #2020 #year in review 2020

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whereyoursoulresides · 4 years

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DiC Dub. vs Sub, Episode 21/25 - “Jupiter Comes Thundering In”/”Jupiter, the Brawny Girl in Love” Pt 2

After so long, here is part two!!

Because of the massive break in between the two, I’ve had to switch gears a little with my explanations, but hopefully they’ll still appear coherent! Without further ado, the remainder of this episode of Dub vs. Sub!

Previously, I covered the manners in which the episode begins to establish the foundation for both diverging character arcs. Propped with knowledge from both Beryl and Kunzite, Zoisite takes his charge with perfect grace and professionalism. Meanwhile, DiC's Zoycite is introduced as being far keener, promisingly relentless, and a more dangerous adversary. If Zoisite was concealing his fangs, as it were...then we were introduced to Zoycite flashing hers.

If it sounds like I'm bashing a dead horse with this difference a lot, perhaps it's also because the DiC dub seems to do so with as much vigor. Certainly, I can't assume writers' intentions when they re-wrote the character for DiC. However, DiC seemed to find as many opportunities as they can to showcase Zoycite's contrary presentation of Zoisite's original character as often as they can, even when they didn't necessarily have to...

This bit of exposition was given right at the very beginning of the DiC version when no such introduction was made in the original. Possibly, DiC made this change to ramp up the story's dramaticism. However, DiC's reputation for obvious exposition leads me to believe otherwise, especially when it starts cropping up in later episodes more frequently, and for no other reason.

(For example, yes, I understand that the following screenshots are referring to Lita / Makoto. However, if you look at Zoycite’s arc as a whole, it is also an excellent setup to the infamous “Disguise” episode...and I feel it is also a great representation of why DiC so desperately wanted to sow these character changes into Zoycite. For if they hadn’t, and Zoycite remained exactly as Zoisite in all manners except gender... how different would “she” be, a beautiful female soldier fighting for love, than another titular character we know?)

Anyways, I digress, and will return to the above bracketed point once we reach that particular episode. In the meantime, please enjoy the following comparisons remaining from the episode below...

1. Zoycite’s keenness, and further proof that DiC can’t stand empty sound space, even if it’s to imply a character’s softly - and ominous - coming).

2. I wish there was a way I could put audio clips in these tumblr posts, because I do love how both these characters are still portrayed with a sense of play...Zoycite’s acrid, saccharine poison, and Zoisite’s breathy, cotton-candy kiss of death.

3. If I could put in audio clips, this is where we would hear Zoycite’s syrup literally curdle - her voice rips into an edge of monstrous roughness, similar to other other monster-of-the-day characters that were also portrayed by the same actress. Meanwhile, Zoisite’s actor speaks with a softness of a snake beginning to gently suffocate you..

4. Goddamnit Zoi, you are so fucking cute, I will never get over how you call out your own name like you’re a fucking pokemon <3.

(Side Note: Zoisite’s use of his own name may seem vain, but I tend to read it less as a form of vanity, and more of a form of cute-speak. It’s yet another way he downplays the perception of his potential: to evoke the sense of adorableness, of femininity, a way to startle the opponent into a sense of lowered security. Honestly, I’m sure this isn’t so much of an actual farce he puts on and is genuinely how he expresses himself, both on the job and at home, but it works! Note that in the future, whenever Zoycite uses the same tactic, she never says it in the same, diminutive cute way. Her spell-cast is always aggressive, shouted in determination and confidence).

(Extra Side-Note: Another +1 for how many times Zoycite will say she is excited to please Queen Beryl. I’m keeping count for an explicit reason. Infer that what you will, and please imagine it with the same kind of “ding” that’s heard in CinemaSins.)

5. I mean, apart from the usual (Zoycite’s kneejerk reaction is to be antagonistic, while Zoisite is actually only politely informing Makoto that she does not have to engage, etc, ...he literally does not coax, mock or challenge. We will see later that Zoisite treats physical bloodshed and confrontation as unnecessary and only as a last resort, while Zoycite is spurred by challenges) - I also love how Zoycite’s dialogue also reflects this difference. I’ve talked at length at how Zoisite is always unfailingly and elegantly polite before, and now look at Zoycite’s speaking mannerisms: uncouth, aggressive, and filled to the brim with attitude when the opportunity arises. ‘SCUSE ME, indeed!

6.Further point regarding Zoycite and Zoisite’s divergent opinions of physical or violent confrontation: one disparages it, considering it barbaric, and that he is above it (often literally). The other laughs in the face of it, and has no qualms dishing it out as a threat...or is more than ready to follow it through.

(Also: buzz off omfg)

In fact, we see their opinions play out beautifully below:

7. After being punched, compare these reactions: one promising brutal threat, and the other fucking gobsmacked it even happened. Also, their differences in priorities.

While that may sound like I’m making a dig at Zoisite, I am legitimately not. I know this scene tends to be one of the ones that famously evoke the idea of Zoisite’s vanity, but I tend to read it another way. Yes, Zoisite’s face is precious to him, and yes, it could also be read as a stereotypical portrayal of a feminine gay character.

However, this scene is not meant to illicit laughter. Nor it is not meant for us to startle with incredulity of how silly it is that he is upset his face his hurt. In this scene, Zoisite is truly shocked - his words are less an angry tantrum and more a statement of startled fact. He hadn’t anticipated Makoto could get that close to him, could actually touch him, much could actually strike him. And, in a place that is fiercely protective of, not because of his vanity...but because it is a precious commodity in the main force that drives his arc. (Yes, it’s Kunzite.) It’s no surprise that Zoisite’s beauty and “beautiful face” gets mentioned so often at key moments in his character development. His arc starts with a punch in the face, rises with gentle caresses, and - after a similar injury - crashes.

All of these subtleties, however, are swapped entirely in Zoycite’s case. Her face is not a fragile commodity by which she holds dear...in fact, it is of little importance to her. Her immediate concern is vengeance - more so than the injury on her face, it is her ego is bruised, and damn anyone who dares to make that mark.

Anyways, before I digress further, let’s round back up to the remainder of the episode. These last few scenes only continue to consistently show the differences in Zoycite’s and Zoisite’s professional approach. There isn’t as deep to note, with one exception at the very end...

8. If you haven’t already caught on, Zoycite really wants this fucking crystal.

9. Up above, DiC makes as much of an effort to showcase how much joy Zoycite derives from her job. Being a Negaverse warrior is an excellent honour - your true self - and boy, is she enjoying exerting her power over those below her. Zoycite’s ambition is demonstrated not as an ideal professional characteristic, but the potential in her to throw a coup if she wanted to. She is power hungry, and that grows recklessly to dangerous heights as her arc progresses. Notice that Zoisite says none of these things...because it isn’t power he seeks. He approaches his subject with almost professional indifference: he seeks no more than the objective of his task. And don’t worry, “it will only take a moment”.

10. This has always been one of my favourite scenes. I just love how Zoisite politely “nopes” out, while Zoycite - and I fully believe it - has a fucking victory celebration. (Don’t think for a moment Zoycite is just jesting, she probably told Malachite to set out the champagne before she left on the mission!)

And again, note the increased victorious laughter, where there was none before...

And FINALLY, the one ODD thing that happens a LOT throughout DiC’s version of this character arc. Remember how I mentioned in a previous instalment that DiC seemed to like to inject extra dialogue and laughs that could exposit Zoycite as a fundamentally meaner character than Zoisite?

Hey look, it happened again:

Like, this may not seem like much of a deal, but think about it. We had a scene earlier where Zoisite’s words basically remained the same in conversion (the “order” scene). We’ve had many instances where the original dialogue/script did not need to be changed, and yet was tweaked in just certain places. This seems like a wholly unnecessary change, so why do it?

The answer is: in changing Zoisite’s gender, DiC encountered a whole other problem. And that problem was: a female solider character, who’s primary motivation was love, a love that could be read as more complex, established, and equally both inspirational and problematic ...could end up becoming an unintentional role model for DiC’s demographic. Figuratively speaking, the tragedy by which we all love Kunzite and Zoisite’s humanity for carried a message that DiC feared might be misconstrued as another example of a miracle romance - because at that point, superficially, the character would no longer be any different than Sailor Moon. iIf Zoycite also fought for love, then her motivations would blow a hole right in the Power of Love message that DiC’s Sailor Moon stood for. And, if she was as dedicated to Malachite as Zoisite was to Kunzite - questionably so - it would also rip a massive hole in DiC’s message of Girl Power.

I’ll talk more about this in greater detail as those essential scenes crop up throughout the arc. For the time being, let’s simply observe that for all the animosity Zoycite gets in the DiC version (even by other characters in the same universe), that Zoisite was never perceived in the same way, even by his enemies. And there’s a reason for that.

#DiC Dub vs Sub #DiC Dub vs Sub Analysis #DiC Dub Analysis #dic sailor moon #90s Sailor Moon #Shitennou Syntax #Dark Kingdom Meta #Negaverse Meta #bssm sailor moon #zoisite #kunzite #zoycite #malachite #episode comparison

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hogwarts-riddle · 4 years

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Eternalism: Chapter VI

The day had come at last. Hermione had created something of a calendar with a piece of paper and pencil, marking down the days until the first of September, the day when her and Tom would escape from the orphanage and the clutches of Mrs. Cole to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

She was so excited that she had hardly slept the night prior.

It was probably one of the best days of their young lives. Exempt from the usual chores of the day, Mrs. Cole left them to their own devices for most of the morning as they gathered their few belongings along with their school supplies into the suitcase that they had each been given.

They left Wool's Orphanage behind without so much as a glance backward, making their way across London to the Kings Cross Train Station.

It was a quarter past ten when they arrived, trudging off the bus with their luggage in tow. The train station was packed with muggles as it always was no matter the year. Making their way through the crowd, Hermione dug out her Hogwarts letter, pulling her ticket out of the envelope.

"It says we need to head to Platform 9¾," she read aloud.

Tom's face scrunched up in confusion. "I may not know much about train stations, but I know enough to know for a fact that there is no such thing as Platform 9¾."

She merely shrugged, showing him the ticket with the platform number on it. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she had to force down the urge to tell him exactly where it was and how to get through it. Of course, she couldn't tell him because she wasn't meant to know herself. Playing dumb was a lot harder than it seemed.

With not much else to go on, they headed towards platforms nine and ten. Much to their surprise, and in particular hers, there was a ticket booth sitting next to the very spot where she knew the barrier to be. Upon first glance the booth appeared to be boarded up and empty, but upon closer observation, she spotted a man inside that looked very much like a wizard.

Such a sight came as a relief to her as she had feared that they would have to wait around until a magical family came along and showed them how to get through. That was what happened the first time she had come here with her parents. If only this ticket booth had been around at that time. It would have made things a whole lot easier.

She briefly wondered why they had gotten rid of it, but cast it off to the side as she figured it wasn't all that important. She was just thankful to have it here and now.

"Excuse me, sir, but could you tell us how we might find Platform 9¾?" she marched up to the booth.

The man nodded his head. Climbing out of the booth, he pointed towards the wall beside him.

"All you have to do is run straight at this here wall, best do it with your eyes closed if you're nervous," the man explained.

Tom stared at the wall and then over at the man, bewildered at what he had just heard. "That has got to be one of the most stupid things I've ever heard."

She couldn't blame him for thinking that, as she had originally had the same reaction. It seemed totally barbaric that they expected a bunch of children to run straight into a brick wall, and even more so for those with muggle parents who were none the wiser to magic.

"I don't suppose there's any other way to access the platform?"

The man just shook his head.

The two of them took a few steps back, mentally preparing themselves to go through with this. Tom insisted that she go first, just to see if it actually worked. Had she not been sure that it would, she might have yelled at him for using her as a test subject.

With a deep breath, she picked up her suitcase, gripping it tightly as she sprinted at the wall, pulling her eyes closed seconds before she felt herself go through. For the briefest of moments, she felt as though she was floating in mid air, kind of like she had felt when she travelled back in time, only it didn't last nearly as long and it didn't make her feel like vomiting.

She opened her eyes as soon as she knew that she was safely on the other side. A smile tugged at her lips as she took in the sight of the shiny red steam engine, smoke from the engine hanging in the air enveloping the crowd of witches and wizards as they scrambled around the train.

Soon she would be going home to Hogwarts.

Stepping away from the barrier, she didn't have to wait long as Tom came running through a moment later, his eyes wide and his face as pale as a bed sheet.

"I can't believe that actually worked."

She stifled a giggle, to which he gave her a halfhearted glare.

The two of them made their way through the crowd, trying not to get jostled too much as they searched for an empty compartment. As if by instinct, Hermione headed towards the back of the train where she had always sat with Harry and Ron, but then she stopped as she remembered that there were no Harry and Ron waiting for her.

They didn't even exist yet and wouldn't for another forty-some years…

She quickly shook all such thoughts from her mind and forced herself to focus on the present, something that she had done on many occasions since her arrival. I'm not alone, she silently reassured herself. Tom is my friend now and I need to focus on helping him.

Wishing to avoid the memories that came with that particular compartment, Hermione quickly made a beeline towards the first empty compartment she could find, two compartments away from the one she usually sat in. Together they managed to load their suitcases inside, strapping them onto the shelves before sitting down next to each other.

With a good twenty minutes to waste before the train took off, Hermione and Tom pulled out a big book titled 'Hogwarts: A History' and began to read. They had spent most of their free time back at the orphanage reading all their school books in preparation. Hermione had already read all the books before, but still she re-read them to keep up appearances. They even practiced a few simple spells together in secret, which was a lot of fun.

Had she been told that she would one day find herself not only befriending Tom Riddle, but also thoroughly enjoying his company, she probably wouldn't have believed it. It was funny how these things worked.

Then, the train began to move. There was an uproar of noise as the whistle blew and everyone flocked to the windows to wave farewell to those they left behind in the station. Well, everyone except Tom and Hermione, that is. They didn't see the need to, seeing as they didn't have anyone to leave behind. Nobody would miss them while they were gone during the school year, nor would they miss anybody. They were just too happy to be leaving.

Gradually everyone quietened down and while most of the students returned to their seats, some got up and started walking around.

One such student, a second year dressed in Gryffindor robes, caught sight of them and poked her head in. Hermione thought that there was something familiar about the girl, as if she knew her from somewhere, but couldn't put her finger on where exactly.

"Hello there, you must be first years," the girl greeted them with a smile. "I saw you come in earlier and noticed that you were all alone. Would you mind if I joined you?"

Tom briefly acknowledged her with a shrug before returning his focus to the book they were reading.

Taking that as a sign, the girl sat down across from them, straightening out the folds of her skirt as she did so. No one spoke for the first few minutes, as each seemed to be waiting for the other to start.

In the end, it was Hermione who broke the silence, realizing that Tom wasn't about to do so anytime soon. "I'm Hermione Granger and this is my friend, Tom Riddle," she introduced, holding her hand out towards the girl.

"It's nice to meet you Hermione and Tom," she eagerly took the hand and shook it. "I'm Minerva McGonagall."

Hermione felt her whole body go rigid with shock. She could hardly believe her ears. The girl sitting before them was none other than her future Transfiguration Professor, Minerva McGonagall! She felt half like shrieking in delight and half like crying. She had expected that McGonagall might be around during this time, but she hadn't expected her to be so young and… a student…

"Are you alright? Did I say something to offend you?" Minerva asked, a worried expression across her face.

"No, no, not at all," she quickly shook her head. "I'm sorry, I-I'm just not used to older girls being nice to me."

It wasn't the greatest excuse, but it was the only one she could come up with on the spur of the moment.

"I understand what you mean. Some of the sixth and seventh years aren't the nicest. The head girl, Walburga Black, is particularly nasty. Thinks she's the queen of the world or something."

Hermione gulped. She knew all too well just how nasty Walburga Black could be, having been at the forefront of one of her portrait's screaming sessions. How someone like Sirius had come from someone like Walburga was beyond her comprehension. She was going to have to be awfully careful this year and try to avoid her. There was no doubt in her mind that Walburga would show no mercy in punishing those who happened to be in her way.

"So, are you two looking forward to Hogwarts?" Minerva asked, quickly abandoning the previous topic. "I was a bit nervous when I first arrived, but everyone in my house is really nice and made me feel right at home."

Hermione was about to open her mouth to answer, when she heard the compartment door slide open. Standing there was the same boy they had met at Twilfit and Tattings. It was Abaxas Malfoy.

"There you two are!" he came in and sat down next to them without even asking if he could. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Here we are," Tom spoke up for the first time since they had boarded the train.

"You know this boy?"

Only then did Abraxas notice the girl sitting across from them. "What do you think you're doing?" he sneered at her, eyeing the color of her robes. "Are you trying to recruit all the first years for Gryffindor or something?"

"I take it you're hoping to be sorted elsewhere."

The pale-haired boy puffed out his chest. "Of course, I intend to be sorted into the best house of them all. My whole family has been sorted into Slytherin for generations."

Hermione was sorely tempted to punch Abraxas in the nose just like she had his supposed grandson. Clearly the apple didn't fall far from the tree when it came to the Malfoy's. Abraxas was just as full of himself as both his son and grandson would be.

"I reckon my friends here want the same," Abraxas added.

Minerva rolled her eyes at the boy's antics. "It's not for you to decide for them."

They both turned their full attention towards the two of them, and though they didn't say it outright, Hermione could tell that they wanted to know their house preference.

Hermione had thought long and hard on which house she thought she might be sorted into. Obviously, she loved being a Gryffindor, but somehow she didn't know if she wanted to be one this time around. It wouldn't be the same without Harry and Ron and would bring far too many memories. No, it would be better for her to be sorted into a different house.

"I was thinking that Slytherin might be a good fit for me," Tom claimed. "I quite like snakes."

When moments passed and she failed to make a reply, Tom turned to her as well, staring at her with an odd look in his eye. It wasn't a look she had ever seen on him before, so she was unable to discern what it meant.

"None of the houses seem bad from what I read about them, but I was thinking it might be nice to be in either Ravenclaw or Slytherin."

Her answer clearly pleased both of the boys. Minerva, on the other hand, did not seem pleased at all. If anything, she looked rather put out.

"You see, some people are capable of recognizing greatness when they see it."

"Well then, I guess it's safe to say that you're all a bunch of lost causes," Minerva leapt from her seat, her nostrils flared as she stalked out of the compartment.

Hermione felt as though someone had stabbed her through the heart. Now more than ever she wanted to punch Malfoy. He had just caused the woman who would grow up to become her role model to hate her! She wanted to run out after McGonagall and explain to her that she really didn't want to be in Slytherin and that she didn't agree with Malfoy at all, but at the same time, she also didn't want to leave Tom alone with Malfoy. Who knows how much that pompous prat might influence him if she gave him half a chance.

Leaning over, she whispered in Tom's ear, "We don't have to put up with him if you don't want to."

Tom shook his head. "He's less annoying than the girl. I'd rather sit with him than with her."

She was surprised by that to say the least. After their previous encounter in Diagon Alley, she had been under the impression that they didn't like each other. Apparently she was mistaken.

She let out a sigh. Boys could be so difficult to understand sometimes.

#tomione #tomione fanfiction #tomione fandom #tomione au #tom riddle #hermione granger #tom x hermione #harry potter #harrypotter #harry potter fandom #harry potter au #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #fanfiction #HP #AU #eternalism

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bestillmyslashyheart · 5 years

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omg please do a part 2 of the last fic you posted! Its soooooo good!!!!

part one

In the two years since Alex left Roswell in his rearview mirror, Michael had somehow scrambled together a decent life for himself. His heart had cracked open one final time when Alex begged Michael to let him go but Michael stitched it back together, stronger than before.

Alex had kept his word. Since getting his new post, he’d worked tirelessly to take down Project Shepherd. At first, he sent updates to Kyle and Kyle would fill in Michael and Isobel and Max. But then, sometime around the first year, Alex started texting Michael directly.

The texts lasted about a month before Michael gave up one night and just called Alex. He didn’t know where Alex was in the world, certainly not what time zone he was in, but it didn’t matter. Alex picked up. And he picked up every time after that.

For a year, they patched together a relationship that had never quite existed with the comfort of thousands of miles between them. It was easier, somehow, to scream their hurts and whisper their fears when it was just a phone call.

They didn’t talk about Alex’s work much, not unless Alex had a specific update, but everything else was fair game. Their past, the pain they’d caused each other. The present, keeping up with each other’s lives better than they had since they were in high school. And the future. Not as much, no, but it did come up.

It was family dinner night at Max and Liz’s when Michael’s phone rang. The first time, he almost didn’t hear it, only pulling it out as it went to voicemail.

“Who was it?” Isobel asked as he stared at the screen, Alex’s name brightly displayed across it. “Michael?”

Michael shook his head and looked up. “What?”

She laughed. “Who was calling? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Not a ghost, per se, but Alex never called this early. Their phone calls were reserved for the middle of the night. “Uh, no one.” He muttered in reply as the phone started ringing again. “I’m just gonna-”

He pushed to his feet and hurried out the door, oblivious to the sudden silence in his wake. He left his family staring worriedly after him as he crashed outside and the door slammed shut behind him. “What’s wrong?” He answered the phone.

Alex chucked. “Nothing’s wrong. Why would you think something’s wrong?”

“You never call this early.” Michael furrowed his brow. “Something happened.”

“Ah, yeah,” Alex replied. “Something did happen but it’s nothing bad. In fact, it’s pretty good, I think.”

“Oh yeah?”

Alex hummed. “As of twenty minutes ago, Project Shepherd is officially and unofficially shut down. It’s over. All the research has been either destroyed or classified at the highest level, every facility has been located and shut down, and my father and brothers are being court-martialed for carrying out unsanctioned missions on the government’s dime.”

“It’s over,” Michael breathed.

“It’s over,” Alex agreed. “You’re safe. You and Max and Isobel, you’re safe.”

“Holy shi-” Michael laughed. “You did it.”

“Yeah.” Michael could hear the smile in Alex’s voice. “I did it.”

The line was silent for a moment, neither one feeling the need to fill it.

“Are you done yet?”

“What?” Alex’s confusion was evident. “I just told you-”

“Done trying to make up for your family’s sins,” Michael clarified. “Are you ready to come back?”

The silence this time was far less comfortable than the last.

“Michael,” Alex started softly and Michael hung his head. Alex only ever called him by his first name when he was preparing to hurt him. “I-”

“No. Don’t,” Michael cut him off. “It was stupid of me to ask. You made yourself perfectly clear when you left.”

“I’ve got 3 more years.”

“I thought it was 10?”

“Good behavior,” Alex replied lightly. “With everything that happened, I renegotiated my term of service. I’ll be eligible for an honorable discharge in three years.”

“That’s good,” Michael replied, trying to keep his tone equally light. “Three more years and you get your life back.”

“Yeah.”

Michael cleared his throat. “But you won’t be coming back to Roswell.” He didn’t bother phrasing it as a question. At this point, it wasn’t.

“Michael,” Alex breathed.

“I’ve gotta go,” Michael cut him off, turning back to the house. Max was standing on the patio, waiting. “Thank you. For shutting it all down.”

“Of course,” Alex told him.

Michael hung up before either one of them could say anything else.

“Everything ok?” Max asked as he trudged back towards the house.

Michael nodded. “Project Shepherd is officially dead. We’re safe.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “That was Alex?” Michael just met his gaze but didn’t say anything. “I hope you told him thank you. You sure we’re safe now?”

“Alex says we are, so...”

“Well then let’s go celebrate,” Max nodded back towards the house. “No more looking over our shoulders.”

“Yeah,” Michael tried to smile. Max didn’t say anything, just wrapped an arm around Michael’s shoulders and led him inside.

Michael woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and bacon. He was out of the bed and halfway down the hall before it occurred to him to be quiet but the overriding knowledge that nobody should be in his house spurred him on.

“What the fuck?”

Alex didn’t even bother to look at him. He was stood at the stove, carefully plating the bacon and eggs.

“Alex?” Michael asked. “Am I dreaming?”

“You dream about me making breakfast often?”

“Yes,” Michael answered before he could stop himself. Alex paused briefly in his movements before setting the pans back down on the stove. Only after making sure the burners were off did he turn around.

He looked good.

Michael wasn’t sure where he’d been these last few years but it clearly wasn’t stuck behind a desk in a dark room.

“What are you doing here?”

“You should go grocery shopping,” Alex replied as he reached for the plates and carried them to the table. “Your food selection is appalling.”

“I usually eat in town,” Michael replied numbly. He didn’t move. “What are you doing here?”

It had been almost six months since Project Shepherd was shut down. Six months since they’d spoken. Alex sighed. “Could we eat first?”

“No,” Michael denied immediately. “You said you were never coming back to Roswell. What are you doing in my kitchen? Why are you making me breakfast?”

“Technically, it’s my kitchen,” Alex protested lightly. And sure, Michael had set up camp in the cabin after Alex left but that was not the point right now. “I miss you,” he admitted as he sipped at his coffee.

Michael sagged against the wall. “You miss me?” Alex nodded. “Well fuck Alex I miss you too. But that doesn’t answer my question. You said-”

“I know what I said.” Alex let out a breath and stood up. It was only about two steps across the kitchen but Alex stayed where he was by the table. “I miss you, Michael. And I know I said I wasn’t coming back but goddammit, Michael. I really fucking miss you.”

“So, what? You came for a visit?”

Alex closed his eyes briefly. “I still owe the Air Force two and a half more years.”

“So you’re leaving again.”

“Yes,” Alex admitted slowly. “For two and a half years. But then I get my life back and I can go wherever I want.”

“Even Roswell?”

“Even Roswell.”

“And is that what you want?” Michael asked quietly.

“What I want is you,” Alex confessed. Michael stamped down a sob. “I really don’t care where that is as long as I’m with you.”

“Alex,” Michael started. “You can’t just say things like that. Not after-”

Alex rubbed at the back of his head. “I won’t say it was a mistake, re-upping and leaving Roswell, because I don’t think it was. I needed to take down Project Shepherd. I needed to undo my family’s legacy and I needed to make sure you were safe.” He paused. “And I needed space. We needed space. We kept hurting each other.”

“And you think, what? We’ll magically stop hurting each other?”

“Not necessarily,” Alex countered. “I think we are uniquely capable of hurting each other like no one else and I can’t promise we won’t do it in the future. But I can promise you that I won’t leave. That I’ll be here to fix whatever I fuck up.”

“And how are you going to do that if you’re in the Air Force?”

“Come with me,” Alex asked.

Michael stared at him, his jaw dropped. “It is way too fucking early for this shit.”

“I said we should eat breakfast first,” Alex muttered and Michael shot him a glare.

“A head’s up that you were coming would’ve been nice.”

Alex shrugged. “I was planning to come see you today. Didn’t expect to find you living in my cabin.”

Michael looked away as his cheeks flushed. He wasn’t about to admit that he’d moved in because it was the only left of Alex in the entire town. Somehow, he thought Alex might have figured that out on his own anyway. “You don’t honestly expect me to pick up and follow you wherever, do you?” Now Alex looked away. “I’ve got a life here. My family’s here.”

“It’s two and a half years,” Alex said again. “And then we could come back.”

“Alex-”

“Or not,” Alex continued over him and Michael’s heart stopped. “Or we could wait until I get out and then come back and we can try again then, if we want to, but I don’t want to wait. We’ve lost enough time, I don’t want to lose any more.”

“Why?” Michael forced out. At some point while they spoke, Alex had taken the two steps across the kitchen and was now merely inches away.

“Do you remember what you said to me when I left?” Alex asked softly.

“If you love something, set it free,” Michael replied immediately.

“If it comes back, it’s yours,” Alex finished. He reached out and drew a finger along Michael’s jaw. “I’ve always been yours, Michael.”

Michael couldn’t take it anymore. He closed the gap between them and dug his hands into Alex’s hair as he pulled him into a kiss. Suddenly, the world made sense again. It was like everything had been a little off ever since Alex left but he was back and he was back in Michael’s arms and things just snapped back into place.

“You’re insane,” Michael told him when they separated. “Absolutely batshit insane to come in here after two and half years and just expect me to pick up and follow you wherever.”

“So that’s a no?” Alex asked. “Because you’re sending some mixed signals here.”

“Fucking crazy,” Michael muttered as he kissed him again. “We’ll figure it out. I don’t know how yet, but we’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah?” Alex asked.

“Yeah,” Michael breathed into his mouth as they crashed together again.

#malex fic #rnm #my fic #i was informed that military services are 5 years not 10 as i said in part 1 so handwavy fic logic to make it 5 #Anonymous

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perlocutionary · 6 years

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Notorious, pt. 12 - Stuart Twombly

Description: You may have finally met your equal. After a drunken stupor, you can’t seem to remember whatever you did. But Stuart does. And perhaps, today is the day you finally found out what exactly went wrong. Relationship: Fuckboy!Stuart Twombly x Reader

Word count: 2745

Title: Where is your body guard at?

Part 1 - ... - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13

Never had I thought that you could miss someone as much as I missed Stuart in the last days. Many friends had come and go during my short life here on this earth, but never had one shattered my world as much as not talking to him. When I got nervous for a presentation, Stuart wasn’t there to comfort me, and pep talk me into next week. When I did something stupid, he was the first I wanted to text and tell about my mishap – but he hasn’t answered any of my texts, so why would he answer them now?

One full week has passed since the last time I saw Stuart Twombly in class – one full week since I last heard him, and my heart ached.

I had to force myself to go out and about – I didn’t want to converse with anyone. I avoided my roommates as much as I could, leaving when I knew everyone was busy readying themselves for their day. I skipped almost every class – except for the one with Stuart.

But he never came. I would be anxiously waiting for him to show up – up until the professor started with his lecture. Then, my mood would deflate as rapidly as the concentration levels dropped in the room. He was doing everything in his power to avoid me – and he was doing a damn good job doing so.

Everyone was having breakfast together at the place I called home, and I couldn’t bear sitting with them and interacting. Instead, after sending another text to Stuart, which I know will be left unanswered, but read nonetheless, I sneaked out and went to get some solitary breakfast.

And here I am, waiting in line in the same coffee shop where it all started. Where I had a conversation about Stuart with my best friend, and where I saw him leave with a girl he had just strung around his finger. The place where I was still certain that my life style would be the one I’d take to my grave, and where Stuart Twombly was just a big name rolling around campus – because of all his accomplishments.

Where I was one hundred percent sure I would never meet my equal and fall head over heels for him as well. How things can change in the span of a few months.

“Here’s your coffee, Y/N.” Michael, the barista, smiles as he shoves the paper cup in my direction, pulling me out of my weeping trance as I snap my head to him. “Oh, thanks.”

He wipes the counter as he lingers, his lips mumbling his question before he lets his eyes avert to me every once in a while. “You okay? Haven’t seen you in a while.” “Eh – been better. Hey, get me a croissant too, will you?”

He winks as he hands me my pastry and nods his head to one of the tables, my eyes following his motions. “If you want to feel better, the boy has been staring at you as soon as you stepped foot inside.”

I let my eyes rake over the lanky blonde, eyebrows furrowing in thought and my lips pursed. It’s when his eyes snap up from his phone something lights up in the back of my head, but I can’t pinpoint it. He smiles at me, waving briefly before taking his own cup and taking a sip.

I leave the counter without a second thought and I stroll over to the male, scraping my dry throat. For some reason, my hands get clammy, my heart starts beating rapidly and nervous take over my entire body. “Hi – uh, excuse me.”

I immediately draw his attention and he gazes up. I’m taken aback by the black eye he sports, already fading against his pale skin. It does nothing to take away his vibrant smile though and I feel my nerves dissipate slowly the longer I am in his presence.

“I – you seem familiar. Do I know you?”

A humorless chuckle leaves the blonde, and as soon as the sound reaches my ears, a shameful color makes its way onto my cheeks. His posture, his grin, the way he shakes his head. I have met him before.

“Splendid to see you left your body guard at home, love. Wouldn’t want another run-in with that one.” His British accent is heavenly and I’m sure if I had ever shared a bed with this man, I would’ve remembered. He doesn’t seem like my type though, and my brain is wrecking itself trying to make any connections.

Instead, my eyebrows furrow and I almost glare at the young man.

“What are you talking about?”

The incredulous look that overtakes his features almost makes me laugh out loudly, but I can refrain myself at the last moment. He rubs along his freshly shaven chin, tapping his pointer finger against his lips as he appears to be deep in thought.

“What? You can’t remember?”

A little shake of my head answers his question – but I think, seeing as how I can’t even remember the poor boy, I’m sure he should know that I wouldn’t remember anything regarding a body guard of sorts either. I’m wiggling back and forth on my feet, the hot coffee sloshing in my cup as I try to balance it together with my bought treat.

“Apparently not, no. What are you talking about?”

The nervous undertone in my voice is clear, and my nervous fidgeting doesn’t stop there. This conversation is making me highly uncomfortable that knows me and I have absolutely no clue what he’s speaking about. The fact that his frown gets deeper with every answer I give him worries me as well.

“That lad with the glasses, always wears a damn beanie on his head even though it’s scorching hot out?”

My heart sinks to my feet when I realize who he is talking about. My voice drops in volume, my gaze averting to the floor. “Yeah, Stuart?”

The blonde motions to his fading black eye with a grimace that shows the hatred he holds for Stuart Twombly. But I understand, if anyone were to give me something so solid it would last for over a week, I wouldn’t be too pleased with said person either.

“Complementary from him.” His fingers trace over the sore spot and I see him wince from the small touch – must’ve hurt like a bitch when he received the blow then. I honestly can’t believe Stuart would do something like that, and I’m showing it as my eyes grow the size of golf balls.

“I – uh – what?”

I have a feeling this conversation is going to take a while, and so, I motion to the vacant seat opposite from the blonde whose name I still am not re-familiarized with.

“Do you mind if I sit uh – ?”

His response is quick, the grin back on his pink lips.

“Newt. Be my guest, love.”

A simple motion of his head allows me to move, and I drop my food and coffee onto the table before taking a seat. I take a bite of my croissant, mumbling my question with a mouth full – and then, when I realize what I’ve done, I feel another heat wave of shame overtake my features.

“As in Isaac Newton?”

His boisterous laughter makes a few heads in the café turn around to inspect our interaction. I shyly look down, taking a sip of my drink as I wait for him to stop laughing and answer. I nervously busy myself by taking another big bite of my croissant as Newt’s laughter slowly dies down.

“You asked me the same thing that night. Yeah, my mom was a science geek.”

I stop chewing as I stare directly at him. His words spur something in my memory and now I can indeed remember talking to him. He had gotten me a drink, and that way we started talking... Wasn’t he part of Ben’s frat?

“I – what happened? That whole evening was a blur.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh, albeit again, nervously, but it brings a small smile to Newt’s lips.

“First of all, I didn’t know you were someone’s bird. I would’ve never even tried anything if I had known.” Newt raises his hands in self-defense, drawing another chuckle from past my lips. I’m already way more comfortable, even though this situation is so absurd it would be one for the books.

I shake my head at the lanky blonde, contradicting his words quite rapidly.

“Newt, I was not in any relationship. I would never have done anything with anyone else if it were the case.” And I meant my words. There is not one hair on my head that would ever consider cheating on someone – and if I ever did get the chance to show Stuart how much he meant to me, I’d make sure he knew that. I made an honest mistake and I’ll have to carry the consequences with me to my grave – to be a bit overdramatic, of course.

I nod my head with a small smile, which falters as my thoughts wander south, ushering him to continue with the story and tell me what happened that regretful night.

“We started talking, at the beginning of the evening. And it seemed like we were having a nice chat, but then that beanie-boy …” I roll my eyes with a grimace. This is what I had always witnessed my male friends do whenever they were speaking about their competition.

“Stuart.”

A groan leaves his lips as he too rolls his eyes at me.

“Yeah, yeah. Stuart, came up to you. He said you should stop drinking.”

A hum leaves my lips as his words piece my memory back together piece by piece. I can vividly remember what has happened, and I feel my throat constrict at my actions. In what drunken stupor was I to think shagging with a random guy would ever get me over the rollercoaster of feelings I had for Stuart Twombly.

“And I didn’t.”

A snort slips Newt and it makes a tiny growl escape from my lips. For him, this all seemed amusing. But in hindsight, this was probably the dumbest shit I had ever done – and I had done some pretty stupid shit in my life.

“If any, I saw you chug down your drink twice as much. I thought he maybe was an ex or whatever, and I really didn’t think twice. My own buzz was quite nice at that time.”

I hum in acknowledgement, pushing the last bite past my lips and munching loudly. Coming here instead of trying to be social with my roommates seemed to have proven fruitful. I would’ve never run into Newt, or even spoke to him, if I didn’t come here on this calm Saturday morning.

“Sounds like stubborn ol’ me, yeah. But did we – “

I hold my breath when I don’t finish my sentence but wait for him to answer it anyway. My indications were clear, and I feel my heart hammering loudly against my chest when he takes a second longer to reply.

“Ah, no, love. Your Stuart thwarted that.”

Another eye roll on the outside, but another knife to my fragile heart at his words.

“I – He isn’t mine.”

Newt tsk’s at me, and a glare forms straight away – I open my mouth to say something, probably rather rude, if you ask my opinion.

“No man would act so furious if he weren’t dealing with his girl, Y/N.”

My heart flutters and falls at the same time. Did Stuart already consider me his girl? I would understand if Stuart never, ever, in a million years, spoke to me again. I would ban him from my life as well.

“But how – “ He knows immediately what I’m about to ask, and he wastes no time answering me.

“Did I get my black eye?”

A small nod of my head accompanies my words. “Mhm.”

Newt sits straighter, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans onto the table. It looks as if he is about to tell the story of a lifetime, and I’m sure, if I weren’t in it, and the one in this mess, I would enjoy it very much so – perhaps even grant him a laugh or two.

“We were getting nice and cozy… Stuart barged in. Gave me a nice remembrance.”

Well, not the sensational story I was expecting. But, nonetheless, the littles bit amusing. A small smirk forms onto my lips and I have to suppress it when I speak – but I presume Newt thinks my words hold no meaning. “I’m so sorry.”

And when he raises his eyebrow expectantly, I know my thoughts were on point. “Don’t be. Can’t say it isn’t the first time it happened.” Newt chuckles, awkwardly running his hand along his neck. I didn’t see him as the home wrecker type. Everyone has his dark little secret, I guess.

When I don’t say anything, he picks up the conversation once more.

“At least tell me you got the lad in the end, at least then my black eye didn’t happen in vain.” Newt laughs again, but his laughter dies down as soon as he sees my frown settle onto my features. I feel tears well up, but I push them back, staring up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly.

“Stuart isn’t talking to me anymore, since that night. I couldn’t decipher why – but you’ve given me the answer I’ve been craving.” I clear my throat loudly, washing away the constriction I feel with one of my last sips of cold coffee.

“Glad to be of service – I guess?”

I reach over and let my hand drop onto his, giving it a light squeeze as I grant him with a genuine smile, something that’s quite rare these days.

“I – I got to go, Newt. But, thank you. It was nice meeting you and knowing about it.”

His hand turns underneath mine, squeezing right back as he leans back in his seat. “Likewise, Y/N. I hope things turn out for the best.”

A small, tight nod is all that’s left for me as I raise to my feet. I dump my leftover in the waste bin on my way out, and I take one last glance at Newt to see him contemplating – although I have no idea what that might be. I’ve already opened the door when I’m stopped.

“Wait!” Newt yells after me and I stop in my tracks, throwing the lanky male a look over my shoulder as I push my sun glasses down from my hair and up the bridge of my nose.

“Let me at least give you a lift home. For uh – the trouble?”

I feel my shoulders tense up as I take a deep breath, my smile a little less genuine than before as I address the man. “That’s alright, Newt. Thanks anyway. I’m glad I ran into you, it put a lot of things into perspective.”

He hums in return, nodding his head along with it and turning his whole body in his seat so he’d be shifted toward me. “Then text me when you get home safely, yeah? You seem distracted.”

With a few words, I finally depart – alone to be with my thoughts.

“I will. Bye!”

I know understand why Stuart had treated me the way he had. If I were him, I wouldn’t even have taken the time to even bark in my direction – so in all essence, he was and forever will be a better person that I will ever be.

I can’t help it when I feel the waterworks erupt violently, streaming steadily down my cheeks as I make no attempt to wipe them away. I kick a rock off to the side, sobbing loudly when I watch it roll down the road and away from my view.

Him ignoring me the last few days, it was all justified. I had hurt him in a way that I would never want to be, and he had every right to ban me from his life. Another sob rakes through my body as I wipe ferociously at my eyes, probably staining my cheeks with rundown mascara.

Whole week I had been trying to think of a game plan, one that would win me my best friend back – and perhaps even more. But now, I wasn’t so sure if I deserved another shot.

Forever tag: @flirtstiles @mischiefandi @ssweet-empowerment @fuckwhateverfuck @behind-my-hazeleyes27 @itsbilescallmebiles @7e6205 @daddyxraeken @lovelynerdytraveler @redstringlovers @suggsmate @dylxnob @bojabee @voidkitsune24 @beingafangirlistheonlylifestyle

Stuart tag: @sataninsatin @cece-lives-here @dancingalone21 @europha @letmebeyoursforever @voidwriter @anneistrash @thesecretlifeofmeinmyhead @acambridge

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junker-town · 3 years

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Media Club: ‘Valhalla’ has forced me to reinterpret some of my favorite literature

It turns out that even a video game version of history can help you see ancient art through a fresh perspective.

I’m still playing Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla, although I’m getting perilously close to running out of things to do. And yes, I’m still having a lot of fun. Recently I ran into a quest which disconcerted me a little bit because it felt so formulaic, the sort of pointless, petty nonsense one might have found at the beginning of Oblivion, but the ending of this little vignette was subversive and funny enough to legitimately crack me up.

Valhalla is the most lore-heavy of the Assassin’s Creed games I’ve played, integrating Norse mythology in big, bold fashion. Naturally this spurred me to go back and polish up my somewhat frayed subject knowledge; I’ve had a good time catching up by browsing through the Poetic Edda and Kevin Crossley-Holland’s The Norse Myths. But I don’t think there’s any shock that Valhalla players will find out about Odin, Loki and the Viking God gang. What has really surprised, however, me is how it’s changed how I related to one of my favorite pieces of non-Norse literature.

The Ruin is an Old English poem found in the manuscript of the Exeter Riddle Book, which was written in the 8th or 9th century, about the same time as the Viking invasions of England which Valhalla uses as its setting. Here’s the beginning from Michael Alexander’s translation:

Well-wrought this wall: Wierds broke it. The stronghold burst ... Snapped rooftrees, towers fallen, the work of the Giants, the stonesmiths, mouldereth.

Rime scoureth gatetowers rime on mortar. Shattered the showershields, roofs ruined, age under-ate them. And the wielders and wrights? Earthgrip holds them — gone, long gone, fast in gravesgrasp while fifty fathers and sons have passed.

The ghosts of a forgotten age, of time eroding away the foundations of certainty, is a familiar motif, evoked perhaps most famously by Percy Shelley in his Ozymandias. I was lucky enough to grow up within easy walking distance of the ruins of a Roman villa, and I can still remember the look at feel of its stub walls, the empty ghosts of lives. And indeed, it’s that villa which always came to mind whenever I thought of this poem.

What Valhalla has done, however, is made me understand on a visceral level how the poet behind The Ruin would have seen the Romans. As a child of modernity, the Romans are a historical curiosity. Their ghosts are interesting in a number of ways, but at best they’re faint, fleeting impressions. To the early medieval English, they would have appeared very different. As an example, here’s a (bad, sorry) screenshot from the Valhalla version of Colchester:

Until I played through this game I didn’t properly appreciate the degree to which these people would have been living in the shadow of those who came before (i.e. ‘the work of the Giants’). Even in their absence, the Romans would have dominated the country, and the Germanic tribes from whom the English descend had displaced the only people on the island with any real claim to that heritage, the Romanized British.

The early English* had, in effect, invaded a country which constantly reminded them of their marked inferiority relative to the ancients. While we might interpret the ruins as sad ghosts, the poem has more resonance if it’s understood as standing in the blasted remains of the giants and angels of antiquity, that powers beyond their comprehension had been overthrown and destroyed and that their towns were built upon their mouldering bones. I knew all of this, of course, but playing (indeed, living) through a world where the fact is inescapable makes it much, much more real.

*I’m trying to move away from the term ‘Anglo-Saxon’ in light of recent scholarship, which suggests it’s far more often used as a racial signifier than as a specific English time/cultural one.

There’s a contempt in my initial response to The Ruin. The works of those who went before, claiming immortality, is nothing compared to what modernity can achieve. We live, in a material sense, at the apex of human civilization. The past cannot touch us, and thus we are, as a whole, a little bit drunk on our own power. If we lived on the ruins of a people we could only barely imitate (the castle didn’t properly reach English shores until after the Norman conquest), on the other hand, if the past loomed above us, eclipsing our hopes and dreams ... well, I think the work takes on a markedly different flavor when their original context is more easily grasped.

I didn’t expect Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla to have me re-interpreting poetry. This game is full of nice surprises!

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mst3kproject · 7 years

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1108: The Loves of Hercules

I kinda miss the shorts and the black and white films in the new series, but I was happy to see a Hercules movie in the lineup! It feels like MST3K getting back to its roots. This is a particularly awful Hercules movie, too, short on feats of strength and long on romantic melodrama – and never once does Herc bend prison bars or pretend to drink a love potion! Get with the program, movie. Along with napping, those are his defining acts!

An encampment of some sort is attacked by the Ecalian army, who proceed to slaughter everybody there including Hercules' wife Megara. Hercules naturally goes looking to have a few words with the King of Ecalia about this, but when he arrives at the city he learns that the man is already dead. If he wants vengeance, it will have to be against the king's daughter, Deianira. Obviously Herc's not gonna take revenge against a girl for something she didn't even do – instead, he immediately falls in love with her, only to learn a few days later that she's already promised to a man named Achillo.

Herc leaves Ecalia in a huff, and after slaying a hydra even cheaper than the dragon in The Magic Sword, he arrives in the land of the Amazons. Their queen, Hippolyta, drinks a potion that makes her look like Deianira in order to win Hercules' heart. He is surprisingly okay with this, and fully prepared to stay with her until she gets sick of him and turns him into a tree... but then he learns that the real Deianira is about to be forced to marry her father's killer.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting here going, “Megara? The redhead who died in the opening scene? Remember her? Anybody?” Apparently not.

When a female character is killed off so that her death can spur a male character to action, this is colloquially known as 'fridging', after the time Alexandra DeWitt was killed and stuffed into a fridge just to piss off her boyfriend, Green Lantern Kyle Rayner. Among non-hack writers it is generally frowned upon as both sexist (implying that women's lives are important only insofar as they matter to men) and lazy (there are better, less cliché ways to motivate your character). This movie's treatment of Megara is one of the purest examples I've ever seen. She is introduced only so that she can be killed, and killed only to make Hercules go to Ecalia, where he promptly forgets all about her when he meets Deianira. Megara has served her entire purpose in the first couple of minutes, and is never mentioned again. One wonders why they bothered paying an actress to play the part. If she's gonna be that irrelevant, why even show her on screen?

This movie claims be be about The Loves of Hercules, but the fact that it forgets about Megara the moment Hercules meets Deianira makes it seem doubtful that he actually loves either of them. If Megara were so dear to him, surely he would grieve for her a while, rather than immediately wanting to run off with her killer's daughter. And if he didn't love Megara, to whom he had apparently been married for some time, why should we believe he loves Deianira? He barely knows Deianira... it seems like there's a lot more lust going on there than love, especially when he's so willing to accept Deianira's double in Hippolyta. We get a Hercules who seems to blunder from woman to woman without a lasting attachment to any of them.

This is the biggest problem with The Loves of Hercules, but it's a long way from the only one. There's also Mickey Hargitay. I've seen Mickey Hargitay in a couple of films before – besides this one, he was the detective in Lady Frankenstein and Anderson in Bloody Pit of Horror (god, I've seen a lot of terrible movies). I kind of want to say he was better in those, but now that I think about it I'm pretty sure he was dubbed in both so it's actually quite hard to gague his performance. It's better than in the non-MST3K Loves of Hercules I watched, which was a re-dub in which all the characters were stoic and British. He does a lot of Dull Surprise™ and postures like he's in a silent film. His 'feats of strength' do not communicate impressive power – he just looks like a guy struggling to balance a prop tree.

Nor does it help that in comparison with Steve Reeves and Alan Steele, he makes for a relatively skinny and baby-faced Hercules. Hargitay was 1955's Mr. Universe, and he's certainly in admirable shape, but he's just not up to 'demigod' levels. He looks like the Hercules Ryan Gosling would have grown up into. Apparently Hargitay got the role because the studio wanted Jayne Mansfield, and she would only agree to be in the movie if Hargitay, her husband, played Hercules.

Then there's the monsters. Amusingly crummy monsters are stock-in-trade for a Hercules movie, usually realized by people in ridiculous costumes. The Loves of Hercules is rather ambitious here. Rather than giving us a distinctly un-threatening lion or a guy in a lizard-man suit who clearly can't see anything, we get a full-scale three-headed dragon standing in for the Lernaean Hydra! It is significantly uglier and less mobile than its Russian cousin in The Sword and the Dragon, and looks kind of like one of the animatronics from Disney's Jungle Cruise ride. It's laugh-out-loud obvious how careful the actors are being not to damage it.

These movies are never very faithful to the source material, so it shouldn't bother me that their 'hydra' bears only the faintest resemblance to its mythological inspiration... but it does. The hydra is my favourite of Hercules' twelve labors – it's some kind of reptilian monster that Hercules tried to defeat by cutting off its head, only to find that multiple (usually three) heads grew back from each stump. This makes it an excellent metaphor for a problem that needs to be addressed at its source rather than just having its symptoms brushed under the rug, but it also serves to make a point that most of these movies ignore: Hercules isn't stupid.

The hydra was a monster Hercules could not defeat by brute strength alone – he had to use his strength in a smart way. In the myth, he burned the neck stumps so that they couldn't heal, then dipped his arrows in the hydra's venom to make them extra-deadly to all the monsters he'd have to fight later. The Disney version actually kept the spirit of this idea even as they changed the ending. Without a torch on hand, Hercules instead brings down a cliff on top of the hydra, trapping it under tons of rock that he can escape from, but it can't. This is sort of the inverse of my point from a few reviews back about brains and hands: brains aren't much good without strength to do the work, but strength also isn't much good without a brain to direct it. By making the hydra a creature Hercules can just stab to death, the episode loses all its meaning.

A lot is also lost from our impression of Hercules' intelligence, which wasn't exactly riding high anyway after he seems unable to remember more than one woman at a time.

Finally, of course, there's The Loves of Hercules' other monster and supreme What The Fuck moment, the Totally Random Sasquatch. It was only on the second viewing that I realized this was supposed to be the 'monster Alcyone' the peasants mentioned rustling their cattle. When describing him to Hercules and Deianira before the stampede, they call Alcyone a thief before they call him a monster, and use the word 'monster' in such a way that it seems like a metaphorical description of a human thug, rather than a literal one of Bigfoot. With the cattle stampede and everything that follows to distract me, I'd forgotten all about Alcyone by the time we actually met him, and the sudden arrival of an ape-man seemed to come completely out of the blue.

In fact, even after realizing the connection, this is a weird, weird moment. What is Alcyone even supposed to be? The closest thing I can come up with to Bigfoot in standard Greek mythology is a satyr, but Alcyone is even less satyr-like than Torgo. The writer Hanno the Navigator referred to a tribe of savage ape-men who supposedly lived around Sierra Leone, which he says the natives called gorillai (yes, this is where we get the word), but that's a long way from Greece and the story is fairly obscure. As far as I can tell, Alcyone is exactly what Jonah and the bots first took him for: a totally random Sasquatch. Between him, Cry Wilderness, Om the Caveman, and Gulfax the Poodle-Wookiee, I think we can officially dub Season 11 the Bigfoot Season.

As long as I'm here, 'Alcyone' is a girl's name in Greek. It refers to a type of bird.

The Loves of Hercules is pretty competently made in most respects. Even with some of the shortcomings in the casting, acting, and effects, it could have fallen into the 'hokey but charming' category, if only it hadn't forgotten about Megara. The way she simply ceases to exist, as if women are like shirts and you can just pick a new one when you lose the old (or something similar if the one you originally wanted is no longer available), gives a very poor impression of both Hercules and the writers and makes it difficult to really get into the romances that follow. In a film about the loves of Hercules, that's a fatal mistake.

#mst3k #reviews #the loves of hercules #all these movies have bigfoot in them #women in fridges #my cheese steak #60s

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psychotherapyconsultants · 5 years

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How to Cope with Tragedy and Loss

“To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.” – Thomas Campbell

People often ask me how I deal with tragedy and loss. I have experienced what many would say is an abundance of both. Yet I remain resilient, optimistic and happy with my life. I’m happy to share my thoughts here on what works for me. Maybe it will help others as well.

A 2018 study found that serious loneliness spans across human lifetime, with particularly acute periods in the late-20s, mid-50s, and late-80s. The study also found that wisdom serves as a protective factor for loneliness.1 Behaviors that define wisdom include empathy, self-reflection, compassion and emotional regulation. These are modifiable, meaning you can do things to increase your wisdom throughout your life, thus providing a buffer against loneliness and, presumably, helping to boost resilience in the face of tragedy and loss.

Find something to occupy your mind.

I discovered an unexpected benefit to keeping my mind occupied when I was dealing with the early stages of loss after the deaths of my parents and brother. The pain was searing, unshakeable, and felt like it would last forever. I did have homework to tend to after my father’s death, which happened when I was just entering my teens. Somehow that seemed to temporarily numb my grief, pain and loss. For my brother and mother, however, the sorrow seemed vaguely familiar, like a painful wound reopened. I was an adult and had children of my own, knew what death meant and that healing would take time. That didn’t make the experience any less painful, just something I knew I would eventually get through. Fortunately, I had work to occupy my mind, especially in the first few weeks after their deaths. When there was a deadline, or I knew others were waiting for my completed work, it spurred me to keep going. Yes, there was still the tinge of sadness lurking on the edges of my thoughts, but I could and did keep going.

Shifting from emotional to contextual aspects of triggered memories helps with the ability to focus on the task at hand. That’s according to 2018 research published in Cerebral Cortex.2

Unburden your pain and lift your spirit with prayer.

My parents taught me to always say my prayers before going to bed. It was so much a part of my upbringing at home, as well as reinforced at Catholic school, that daily prayer has become a lifelong habit. The other bonus with prayer is that it helps me let go of my pain and lifts my spirit at the same time. I have no idea how this happens, other than to revert to my religious instruction that God will take our sorrow to relieve our burden and heal our souls and spirits. In fact, it’s not just at bedtime that I find prayer helpful. I like to pray upon waking and whenever I encounter difficulties or emotional upheaval. I may not immediately get the answers I seek, but I always feel better. I know that powerful divine forces are looking out for me.

Treat yourself with kindness.

I cried myself to sleep on countless nights after my father died. I felt his loss as much physically as emotionally. It was like a part of me had been ripped away and the wound refused to heal. I didn’t want to eat, barely thought about what I wore or noticed others around me. My mother was my salvation, taking care of me with love despite her enormous pain. Later on, when she and my brother died, I already knew that good self-care is one of the ways to help with the healing process, so I forced myself to eat healthy meals on a regular basis, get a good night’s sleep, and do other things to treat myself with kindness. It may sound like simple advice, but it works. When your body (and your mind) is in pain, tending to your physical and emotional needs through good self-care helps you cope with tragedy and loss.

Get out of the house and be with other people.

When the hours just seem to drag by during the day and obsess about how bad you feel or the memories and thoughts of the tragedy and loss you’ve experienced overtake you, the best thing you can do is to leave the house and be with other people. The effort you put into doing this – and it will be a struggle, especially at first – will be worth it. You’ll be distracted a bit from your pain and sorrow, paying attention to who’s around you, what they’re saying (again, you’ll have to force yourself to do this at first), and getting to and from your destination. Even if you go to the mall and wander through the stores, you’re surrounded by people. Sit by a coffeeshop or restaurant or in the lounge area and people watch. Think about where they’re going, what their stories are. Of course, spending time with loved ones, family members and friends is preferable, but if they’re not available, go somewhere, anywhere and be with people.

Have someone you can call whenever the pain and sorrow gets too much.

It isn’t only the death of loved ones, family members and friends that I’ve had to grieve about. I’ve also gone through a fairly extensive list of accidents, surgeries, personal misfortune, medical and emotional crises and more. The worst feeling is being alone at night and afraid to let anyone else know what I’m going through. It’s important to have someone to call whenever emotions become overwhelming. Just talking can help transition through the most intense pain. It doesn’t have to be about the pain, although that sometimes is necessary and those closest can perhaps sense that their willingness to listen is vital to your healing. A 2018 study by Michigan State University of National Guard members formerly deployed in Iraq and Afghanistan found that the quality of family and relationships improves life satisfaction level and decreases suicide risk.3

Spend time outside in nature.

The healing power of nature and spending time outside is well documented. In fact, natural surroundings provide a ready and easily accessible remedy to sooth body, mind and spirit. Gardening, walking in the neighborhood or park, going to the beach — these are healthy ways to allow nature to work its wonders. It doesn’t cost anything, either.

Do something to help another person.

When not mired in sorrow and pain, no doubt you’ve noticed that others are experiencing troubles of their own. You can see in in their faces and it shows in their slowed gait, slouched posture, and shying away from others. Say something kind or welcoming to those around you, for they likely need the expression of human kindness more than you know right now. When you feel your own pain, remember that others are also going through pain or loss and could use a little help from someone like you. Donate something to charity, whether cash or non-cash items. Help a neighbor. Offer to do errands or chores for someone who needs assistance. This helps that person out and also provides a measure of solace for you.

Express your feelings in a journal or diary.

Some things you don’t want to say to anyone else. This could be words you left unsaid to the one who’s now deceased, or revisiting memories of that person that are both joyous and painful but just as intense. You might be angry, ashamed, filled with guilt, regret and any number of powerful emotions. When you write about your feelings, however, you take away a smidgeon of the pain. Whatever you write is personal and only for your viewing. You can burn, shred, delete or otherwise discard it afterwards. The power of releasing your emotions has already occurred. If you do keep your journal, months later you can re-read your earlier entries. You can reflect on what’s changed in the interim, how much you’ve healed.

Tackle chores around the house.

Most of us have things that require our attention around the house. By tackling household chores, we’re not only keeping busy, we’re also doing something useful. Be sure to keep a list and cross off items as you complete them. It may seem small comfort, yet it does produce a sense of accomplishment.

Take up a hobby or activity.

When all the chores are done, you’re finished at work, others may be too busy or occupied to spend time with you, and you want to spend a few hours doing something productive, find a hobby or activity you enjoy.

Footnotes:

Lee, E.E., Depp, C., Palmer, B.W., & Glorioso, D. (2018, December 18). High prevalence and adverse health effects of loneliness in community-dwelling adults across the lifespan: role of wisdom as a protective factor. International Psychogeriatrics. Retrieved from https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/international-psychogeriatrics/article/high-prevalence-and-adverse-health-effects-of-loneliness-in-communitydwelling-adults-across-the-lifespan-role-of-wisdom-as-a-protective-factor/FCD17944714DF3C110756436DC05BDE9

Iordan, A.D., Dolcos, S., & Dolcos, F. (2018, June 14). Brain activity and network interactions in the impact of internal emotional distraction. In other words, focusing away from emotion is better for better working memory performance than dwelling on recollected memories. Cerebral Cortex. Retrieved from https://academic.oup.com/cercor/advance-article-abstract/doi/10.1093/cercor/bhy129/5037683?redirectedFrom=fulltext

Blow, A.J., Farero, A., Ganoczy, D., Walters, H., Valenstein, M. (2018, December 3). Intimate relationships buffer suicidality in National Guard service members: A longitudinal study. Suicide and Life-Threatening Behavior. Retrieved from https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1111/sltb.12537

from World of Psychology https://psychcentral.com/blog/how-to-cope-with-tragedy-and-loss/

#World of Psychology

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trendingnewsb · 6 years

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Woman says Franken groped, kissed her without consent in 2006

(CNN)A woman said Thursday that Minnesota Democratic Sen. Al Franken groped her and kissed her without her consent in 2006 while she was on a USO Tour overseas.

Leeann Tweeden is now a morning news anchor on TalkRadio 790 KABC in Los Angeles and posted her story in a lengthy post on the station’s website.

The incidents happened before Franken was elected to the Senate in 2008 and was seated in 2009 following a recount.

Tweeden described the harassment as being part of a script for a USO skit where Franken wrote where he’s supposed to kiss her. She writes that Franken repeatedly insisted they rehearse the kissing scene despite her protests. When she relented, Franken, “put his hand on the back of my head, mashed his lips against mine and aggressively stuck his tongue in my mouth.”

“Senator Franken, you wrote the script,” Tweeden wrote. “But there’s nothing funny about sexual assault.”

She also included a photo in which Franken appears to grabbing Tweeden’s breast while she’s asleep.

“I couldn’t believe it. He groped me, without my consent, while I was asleep,” Tweeden writes. “I felt violated all over again. Embarrassed. Belittled. Humiliated.”

In a statement to reporters, Franken said he doesn’t remember the forced kissing, but said he shouldn’t have conducted his behavior as he did in the photo.

“I certainly don’t remember the rehearsal for the skit in the same way, but I send my sincerest apologies to Leeann,” Franken said. “As to the photo, it was clearly intended to be funny but wasn’t. I shouldn’t have done it.”

Franken released a longer statement several hours after his initial one, where he described a lengthier apology and said he “didn’t know what” was in his head when he took the actions in the photo.

“The first thing I want to do is apologize: to Leeann, to everyone else who was part of that tour, to everyone who has worked for me, to everyone I represent, and to everyone who counts on me to be an ally and supporter and champion of women. There’s more I want to say, but the first and most important thing—and if it’s the only thing you care to hear, that’s fine — is: I’m sorry,” Franken said in the email statement.

He continued, “I respect women. I don’t respect men who don’t. And the fact that my own actions have given people a good reason to doubt that makes me feel ashamed.”

Franken continued to say he didn’t remember the exact actions of the rehearsal skit, but added, “I understand why we need to listen to and believe women’s experiences.”

At a news conference, Tweeden was asked if she accepted Franken’s apology.

“There’s no reason why I shouldn’t accept his apology,” she said. “I wasn’t looking for anything.”

Tweeden also recounted her 2006 encounter with Franken during the news conference, describing in detail the moment in which Franken kissed her.

She said he stuck his tongue in her mouth “so fast.”

“All I could remember is that his lips were really wet and it was slimy. In my mind I called him fish lips the rest of the trip because that’s what it reminded me of,” she said.

Tweeden said she “pushed” Franken off, and that she almost punched him.

“I pushed him off with my hands, I just remember I almost punched him … Every time I see him now, my hands clench into fists,” she said.

After the incident, which Tweeden said she did not report at the time, she said she made sure she was never alone with Franken again.

Asked whether she believes Franken should step down, Tweeden said that “people make mistakes.”

“I’m not calling on him to step down,” she said. “That’s not my place.” However, she added that her opinion may change if other women come forward with similar allegations.

The comments about Franken come at a time when Congress is conducting a review of its policy for addressing sexual harassment and how it handles complaints. The House held a hearing on the issue earlier this week, and both chambers have now required mandatory sexual harassment training. The changes to Capitol Hill follow the ground-shaking allegations of sexual harassment and misconduct that have swept industries, organizations and institutions worldwide.

Franken acknowledged that cultural change in his revised statement.

“Over the last few months, all of us — including and especially men who respect women — have been forced to take a good, hard look at our own actions and think (perhaps, shamefully, for the first time) about how those actions have affected women,” Franken said.

Tweeden said she’s coming forward now after hearing testimony from women — including California Democratic Rep. Jackie Speier — who have shared similar stories of men in power who have committed sexual harassment and sexual assault.

“I want to have the same effect on them that Congresswoman Jackie Speier had on me,” Tweeden wrote. “I want them, and all the other victims of sexual assault, to be able to speak out immediately, and not keep their stories –and their anger– locked up inside for years, or decades.”

Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell, a Republican from Kentucky, said the issue should be referred to the ethics committee.

“As with all credible allegations of sexual harassment or assault, I believe the Ethics Committee should review the matter. I hope the Democratic Leader will join me on this,” McConnell said in a written statement. “Regardless of party, harassment and assault are completely unacceptable—in the workplace or anywhere else.”

Franken said he would cooperate with the committee’s investigation.

The allegations have already been injected into politics, with the National Republican Senatorial Committee tying senators running for re-election to Franken and the National Republican Campaign Committee demanding that Democratic candidates who had received campaign money from Franken to return those donations.

Washington Sen. Patty Murray, the highest ranking woman in the Democratic Senate leadership said Franken’s apology “doesn’t reverse what he’s done or end the matter”.

Murray said, “This is unacceptable behavior and extremely disappointing. I am glad Al came out and apologized, but that doesn’t reverse what he’s done or end the matter. I support an ethics committee investigation into these accusations, and I hope this latest example of the deep problems on this front spurs continued action to address it. “

Franken mentioned Tweeden on the Senate floor in September 2010 and called her a “beautiful woman” during a speech about his past USO tours and the jokes he would tell regarding the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy.

“And during the show I would, I was kind of co-host with a beautiful woman named Leeann Tweeden, and we’d do comedy routines, we’d introduce music, we’d introduce cheerleaders,” Franken said. “I’d go out and do a monologue, and this is something I would do, I’ve done for a number of years, and I’d go out and I would say, you know, I’ve done now seven USO tours and every year I’m just more and more impressed with the US military, except one thing I do not get, it’s the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy.”

This story has been updated and will continue to update with developments.

Read more: http://ift.tt/2mBVdtp

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#IFTTT #Viral News HQ

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chrispavesic · 7 years

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The temperature starts to change, the days grow shorter, and that means it’s fall subscription box time!

(Actually it was 90 degrees here yesterday. We are having some strange weather this year in the Midwest. But I digress …)

My FabFitFun box arrived this week, and it is jam-packed with fall goodies that I can’t wait to dig into, as well as a few items that can be used year-round. Here they are in no particular order:

Mer-Sea & Co. Scarf – Blush Ombre

This scarf/wrap is very soft and a lovely color. It is billed as the ultimate companion – from the plane to the city streets and best of all, the washer and dryer. I like the fact that it can be machine washed, although I would use a mesh lingerie bag to protect the fringe.

It is 100% polyester and sells for $98 on the Mer-Sea & Co. web site.

On a side note–I requested the blush-colored Jetset Diaries Cable Knit Beanie to match the scarf ($49 on the Jetset Diaries web site.) You can see from the box photo that I received the black one. Ah well … I will be giving it away as a gift.

I received two products from Whish: The Mud Mask came with the original box. The Almond Lip Scrub was an add-on. Their products are Leaping Bunny certified: Paraben free. Sulfate free. DEA and TEA free. Petrochemical free. Phthalate free. Naturally sourced with organic goodness. Made in the USA. I’m looking forward to trying these out.

The trèStiQue Matte Color & Shiny Balm Lip Crayon is a handy two-in-one product that features a creamy, lightweight lip color crayon with a natural matte finish, and a BB lip balm for added shine and moisture. It retails for $28.

The bright pink seems more like a spring/summer color to me, so I will probably save this until then. I like the fact that it is both a color and balm in one “crayon.” I might order a darker color just to try the formula this fall.

Private Party Gym Bag – Will Workout For Cupcakes: Because we all need motivation to work out. Although my bag should say “Will workout for coffee!” The bag retails for $49.

My TagAlongs Hot & Cold Gel Pack

This type of hot/cold gel pack is nice to have on hand. Unlike the typical ice-packs I use in a cooler, this is flexible and can be shaped to fit wherever you need it. They do recommend wrapping a towel around the pack before applying it to your skin.

This retails for $15.

Imm Living Coxet Wire Heart Ceramic Jewelry Holder – Retail value $33. This jewelry organizer is ceramic with a rose gold metal insert that stands and forms a heart-like shape. It measures 5 inches in diameter and it’s about 5 inches tall.

Deco Miami Lavender Cuticle Oil – Retail value $12.50. This is 8-FREE · TPHP-FREE · VEGAN · CRUELTY-FREE according to their web site. The ingredients as listed: MINERAL OIL • ISOPROPYL MYRISTATE • CARTHAMUS TINCTORIUS (SAFFLOWER) SEED OIL • ARGANIA SPINOSA KERNEL OIL (ARGAN OIL) • BAMBUSA VULGARIS EXTRACT (BAMBOO EXTRACT) • TOCOPHERYL ACETATE (VITAMIN E) • ASCORBIC ACID (VITAMIN C) • FRAGRANCE • VIOLET 2 (C.I. 60725)

It smells like lavender, but does not list lavender oil in the ingredients.

Molr Dental Club Organic Carbon + Coconut Teeth Whitening Powder and Toothbrush: I haven’t tried this product, but it looks interesting. This toothbrush set uses the power of activated charcoal to clean and whiten teeth as it binds teeth-staining pests like wine, coffee, and plaque. It retails for $43.95.

And finally another Add-On–Brazilian Kiss Cupuaçu Lip Butter Doce de Leite.

I have to admit this is the item I am most excited about in the box. I am a fan of the Bum Bum Cream–you can read about that in my post “Battle of the Bum Bum Creams.”

This is a lip butter infused with nourishing Cupuaçu, Açaí and Coconut Oil. It does not have a taste and smells heavenly. (It is so hard to describe but if they bottled this scent I would wear it as perfume.)

Verdict–was it worth it to me? Yes. There are enough items in the box that I will use to make it worth the $49 subscription. And the items I will not use I will give as gifts.

That’s it for my box. Let me know what you think. Do you get the FabFitFun boxes? How did yours differ? Share your thoughts in the comments below.

Disclaimer: This is not a sponsored post. All products have been purchased by me.

I would like to offer you a glimpse into Starter Zone, the first book of my new YA/LitRPG series, The Revelation Chronicles.

PROLOGUE

I was born into a world where silicone still ruled. Where the products of the earth outshone those of the sea. Integrated circuits ran all electronic equipment and scientists strove to make the conducting lines smaller and smaller. Silicon Valley tried, and failed, to make chips fast enough to upload human consciousness.

The Revelation came a few years later from the hydrologists. They designed a system that did not use silicone, but instead worked with water molecules. The hydrologists managed to imprint the consciousness of a human mind on a single drop of water.

The water was to be kept in self-contained, sealed aquariums—pure, undiluted, eternal—where virtual realities were constructed to meet every need and desire. All of human knowledge encoded and stored in literal pools of data and integrated with the drops of human consciousness. It was, the hydrologists claimed, utopia achieved.

The obscenely rich were the hydrologist’s first clients, many taken near the end of their lives. The procedure did not always work, but there were enough successes to spur people’s interest. People suffering from terminal illnesses volunteered to be inscribed, and the hydrologists worked and refined their process. Private companies formed and competition forced price wars. Hundreds of customers grew to thousands, and then to millions. There were landmark court cases arguing whether or not health insurance should cover the cost of the inscription—whether or not this was a medical procedure designed to save lives or a form of physician assisted suicide. The law struggled to decide if life ended when the body was drained to a dry, leathery husk, or if life continued inside those glowing, sealed aquariums.

I was thirteen when the governments seized control of the laboratories, first in the Eastern European countries. Then the labs of Europe and the Middle East were swallowed up. Terrorist attacks soon followed and destroyed most of the civilized world over the next three years. The United States, Canada, and Greece, those bastions of democracy, did not fall until the very end. Of course, by then no one cared whether or not the government or the private companies ran the uploading programs. Many of the aquariums ruptured in the strife and the droplets, imbued with human consciousness, re-entered the water cycle of the planet.

CHAPTER ONE

As the sun hovers near the horizon, ready to dip below and plunge the world into darkness, the weather changes for the worse. Clouds gather. Peeking out my window and over the outline of rooftops in the distance is what looks like thunderheads moving toward me in the invisible polluted gusts of wind.

I try not to think about the coming storm as I methodically pull on my boots and zip up my jacket. It is supposed to be waterproof, but I would not risk going out in anything above a light drizzle. Water has a way of seeping through even the best defenses. There’s also a lining that’s overly warm for a summer evening. I’m already sweating and the discomfort adds to my nerves.

I check the hunting knife strapped to my left leg. It was one of the first weapons purchased for me by my dad back when the sporting goods stores were still open for business. He didn’t think I was ready to handle a handgun at thirteen, but he taught me to shoot a rifle in the open fields by our house, helping me hold the weapon steady until I grew strong enough to support the weight. Now, three years later, I have a handgun, a Ruger semi-automatic, but bullets are scarce and loud noises are problematic. My small ammo stash sits in the bottom of my backpack next to the gun.

Instead of the gun, I carry an extra-light crossbow as my go-to weapon. I can hand-make the bolts so I don’t worry about running out of ammunition and the shot is relatively silent. I carry the spare bolts in a quiver strapped to my right leg. It’s awkward when running, but I can draw the bolts fast when needed.

My little sister, Alby, has loaded her own backpack. I lift it to test the weight and then pull a few things out. I place them in my own pack without comment. I help her position the lighter pack over her shoulders, tightening the straps so that it will stay balanced. She always tries to do more than she should, but I don’t like the way her face has a perpetual pinched, strained look or the deep shadows under her eyes. She looks far older than her seven years. This scares me more than everything else and that fear threatens to register on my face. I force myself to stay calm.

I check her raincoat and boots, making sure everything fits snugly. I help Alby pull up the hood of her coat, tucking in a strand of dark hair that has escaped her ponytail. As frightened as she is, she manages to give me a smile. I smile back, trying to present a brave front. As my dad used to say, “fake it till you make it.” Over the last few years, I’ve been faking confidence more and more often for Alby’s sake.

“Ready to go?” I ask with all the false cheer I can muster in my voice. I take one last glance over the motel room that had served as a temporary home for the last few days, looking for anything that we might have left behind. The room is swept clean. No trace whatsoever that we had ever been there.

Alby nods. “Ready, Cami.”

“If we get separated, remember to keep going north,” I say. “Follow the road till you get to the park, then take the walking paths. No matter what happens, keep going. Stop when you get to the Stone River. I’ll meet you at the bridge in the center of the park where we used to feed the ducks, okay?”

She nods again, looking up at me with those dark eyes so full of trust. I hug her, because if we do get separated, there isn’t much hope we will ever see each other again. I need to keep up the pretense of hope, though, because that’s all we have to keep us going.

Stone River Park is at the very limits of the city and the area surrounding it is relatively unpopulated. I figure that once we are out of the city, our chances of survival will dramatically increase. After reaching the park, we can follow the Stone River north. There’s bound to be deserted houses in the country and less chance that any of the gangs would be interested in the meager pickings outside of the city. We might even be able to find a place to stay before winter.

I crack open the door of our motel room. It is still light enough to stain everything with graying shades of color. The setting sun casts long shadows between the buildings, so I depend more upon my ears to find signs of other humans. I hear no motorcycle engines and no voices, only the wind, blowing and moaning, and the far-off call of a bird. The coming storm appears to have cleared the streets. They are deserted except for empty, crashed vehicles abandoned in every lane.

Alby and I had been lucky to reach the motel a few days ago. The single-story building is on the outskirts of the main town and catered to big rig truck drivers and other traffic from the interstate. I had found the skeleton key in the motel office after climbing in through the bathroom window. Alby and I spent the nights scouring every room for supplies.

No one had broken into it before we got there. Too many other rich targets to go around. But inside each room was a mini-fridge filled with snacks. Even though the electricity had been turned off, the chocolates and small bags of honey-coated nuts were edible. The tiny bottles of alcoholic beverages in each fridge did not seem useful, but I kept a few. They might be helpful in starting a fire someday when we made it outside the city. We even discovered coffee filters and a small bottle of chlorine bleach—a major score for treating our drinking water.

If I hadn’t spent days secretly peering out the dark windows of the motel, I might believe my sister and I were the last two people left on earth. But I know that out there, behind the ruined buildings and boarded-up windows, there are at least a few pairs of eyes whose owners would kill us without a second thought. My eyes flick toward the two bodies hanging from the traffic lights in the nearby intersection. They hadn’t been moved. Good.

The daytime usually belongs to looter-gangs, each with spray-can marked territories in bright displays of color that start on the buildings and drip down toward the pavement. The gangs wear something marked as well, usually a jacket or bandanna that will stand out from a distance. The snipers hole up in their nests and target anyone who encroaches on their gang’s territory. They particularly looked for members of other factions trying to increase their terrain.

Paint tags don’t show up well after dark, though, so the gangs have started leaving their victims as warnings to others not to encroach on their holding. These bodies have been hanging undisturbed in the intersection for several days, indicating a lack of activity in the area. I can only hope that the gangs have moved inward, toward the center of the city and more supply-rich targets.

No one is ever going to catch the murderers, or the ones who strung up the bodies like macabre trophies, and put them in jail. They’ll just go on and do it again and again. Like animals in the jungle—except that animals are not cruel.

We were lucky to go unmolested by the local gangs. Heaven knows we don’t look like we have much of anything, and we don’t look threatening, but that will only last for so long. Someday someone will try to kill us, possibly for no other reason than wanting to watch us die. The whole world, it seems, is at war, and no one is on my side except Alby. We only have each other.

A streak of lightning splits the sky almost directly overhead, making me wince. It is followed by a heavy clap of thunder. As frightening as it is, the bad weather is to our advantage. No one wants to be caught outside in the rain. Everyone is more afraid of fresh, untreated water and what it can do than they are of each other. But I believe we can make it out of the area and to shelter before the rain poses any danger.

In fact I’m betting our lives on it.

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whatthisweek-blog · 7 years

Text

Week one was...eventful

It’s been a week, y'all. But it's been an action-packed one, so these updates will be in two parts.

Trade

Trump signed an executive order withdrawing from the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP), fulfilling one of his many campaign promises within the first days of his administration. TPP is a free trade agreement between 12 countries that border the Pacific Ocean and comprise of approximately 40% of the world economic output. Under the benefits of TPP, countries expected reductions in tariffs and boosted economic growth, with the possibility to foster closer relationships with respect to economic policies and regulations. The other countries participating are Japan, Malaysia, Singapore, Peru, Chile, Mexico, Canada, Brunei, Australia, and New Zealand. Automobile manufacturers, pharmaceutical companies, and agriculture are just some of the industry that would be affected by TPP. TPP would have been considered President Obama’s landmark achievement on trade. Obama faced criticism from the Democratic Party, with both congressional leaders and presidential candidates Bernie Sanders and Hillary Clinton arguing that TPP would ship American jobs overseas. The deal would increase competition between the cooperating countries labor forces. The deal would also require countries that currently do not do so to abide by international labor laws. Some GOP lawmakers did support the agreement; Senator John McCain (R-AZ) “called the decision [to withdraw from TPP negotiations] ‘a serious mistake’.” China, a nation with the growing influence in the region, is noticeably absent from TPP; however, with the US withdrawing, China can further secure its economic influence in the region.

Trump has also vowed to renegotiate NAFTA with Canada and Mexico. This, in conjunction with the Mexican wall construction, makes some speculate that there's a global trade war on our hands.

Abortion

I addressed updates related to abortion in this ask. If you have any other questions (or if there’s something I missed that you want me to write about), let me know!

Science & Environment

President Trump has endorsed the developments of both the Keystone XL and Dakota Access Pipelines, both of which were ultimately scrapped during the Obama administration’s tenure and stirred widespread protests. Proponents of pipeline development argue that these projects will create jobs as it bolsters oil and energy production. A State Department analysis found that Keystone would create about 4,000 construction jobs if constructed in a two-year period and a total of 50 permanent jobs once put into operation. The memo invites TransCanada, the company trying to develop the Keystone, to re-submit its permit application for consideration.

The Meskwaki and several Sioux tribal nations have strongly opposed the Dakota Access Pipeline, arguing that the government failed to consider environmental concerns, potential water contamination, and regulations/established treaties between the federal government and Native American tribes (the pipeline would potentially endanger sacred Native American sites and burial places -- remember Standing Rock?). Environmental groups have also opposed these pipelines, fearing chemical leaks and further contributions to climate change. The Army Corps of Engineers previously denied the project a necessary easement to construct Dakota Access, but the memo asks for the agency to reconsider.

Trump also announced a new policy called "Expediting Environmental Reviews and Approvals For High Priority Infrastructure Projects." Opponents are concerned that this order would take shortcuts or omit typical evaluations for projects at a great risk and cost to the environment. He also directed the Secretary of Commerce (Wilbur Ross is his unconfirmed pick for the job) to look into streamlining the permit process for domestic manufacturers and create a plan for “Made in the USA” pipelines, which prioritize the use of materials and equipment produced in the US whenever possible.

And let’s not forget the leaked memos stating that the EPA, USDA, and other federal agencies could not update blogs and social media accounts. These orders also instructed that all communication with the press should be authorized and vetted by the White House. The National Parks Service previously came under fire after retweeting a side-by-side aerial shot from Obama's 2009 inauguration and Trump's own last week. Several NPS Twitter accounts appeared to defy orders, tweeting things like climate change statistics; while those tweets were removed from official accounts, several NPS employees created "alt" parks social media accounts as a form of protest.

The EPA has received special attention by the Trump administration; EPA scientists were ordered to stop publishing their research and that all data should not be published unless approved by the White House. The science community, up in arms that years of data either risk removal or political partisanship, have moved to organize a March for Science. Scientists have even encouraged others to run for office.

(Fun fact -- not many scientists run for office! I've written about this phenomenon before in the Brown Political Review)

Immigration

In "Enhancing Public Safety in the Interior of the United States," Trump took aim at sanctuary cities that have vowed to protect undocumented immigrants. The EO would strip sanctuary cities of federal grants (except those that pertain to law enforcement) and create a weekly comprehensive list of criminal actions committed by aliens and any jurisdiction that ignored or otherwise failed to honor any detainers with respect to such" undocumented immigrants. This states that deporting undocumented immigrants that have committed criminal offenses are a priority; however, the language suggests that all approximate 11 million undocumented immigrants would be prioritized for deportation, as those who were not inspected by border control committed a criminal misdemeanor or those who remained in the country on visitor visas, committed fraud. This is an expansion of the Obama administration's policies to deport undocumented immigrants who committed serious crimes. It also mentions adding an additional 10,000 border patrol officers.

He also signed a separate EO committing to fulfill one of his infamous campaign promises to build a wall along the Mexican border; this order requests the Secretary of Homeland Security (Sec. John Kelly) to begin planning the design and construction of the wall, as well as produce "a comprehensive study of the security of the southern border, to be completed within 180 days of this order,” and “project and develop long-term funding requirements for the wall, including preparing Congressional budget requests for the current and upcoming fiscal years.” The order also instructs the DHS secretary to allocate resources towards constructing and operating detention facilities. Finally, it instructs executive agencies to report and tally all sources of federal aid provided to Mexico’s government in the last five years.

The announcement of this EO spurred President Enrique Peña Nieto of Mexico to cancel a visit to the Oval Office. Additionally, the administration faced backlash when officials said that a 20% tariff on Mexican goods might be implemented to pay for the wall's construction.

Housing

This didn't happen this week, but it's something I haven't seen enough coverage of so I'm including it. Two versions of the Local Zoning Decisions Protection Act of 2017 (this link leads to the House bill, but there’s Senate bill of the same nature) aim to reverse HUD’s Affirmatively Furthering Fair Housing Rule (AFFH). AFFH aims to bolster the Fair Housing Act by creating a geospatial database that would allow housing authorities/HUD grantees to examine patterns of segregation, racially and ethnically concentrated areas of poverty, and disparities in housing opportunity. Agencies that received HUD funds already were required to comply with Fair Housing rules; AFFH asked these housing authorities use this data to examine fair housing patterns and set priorities and goals accordingly. Lawmakers objecting to AFFH cite government overreach in local planning decisions as justification for overturning it.

Stay tuned for Part 2! And as always, questions, comments, and suggestions are welcome!

#immigration #trade #housing #abortion #science #environment #policy #politics #donald trump #potus45 #united states #government

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