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tseneipgam · 1 year ago

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Everyone looked at her in astonishment. 'You are going to have a baby?' asked Jane. She nodded her head. It was extraordinary to see the different expressions on their faces. A sort of hum went through the room, in which I could catch the words 'impure', 'baby', 'Castalia?, and so on. Jane, who was herself considerably moved, put it to us: 'Shall she go? Is she impure?' Such a roar filled the room as might have been heard in the street outside. 'No! No! No! Let her stay! Impure? Fiddlesticks!' Yet I fancied that some of the youngest, girls of nineteen or twenty, held back as if overcome with shyness. Then we all came about her and began asking questions, and at last I saw one of the youngest, who had kept in the background, approach shyly and say to her: 'What is chastity then? I mean is it good, or is it bad, or is it nothing at all?' She replied so low that I could not catch what she said. 'You know I was shocked?' said another, 'for at least ten minutes.' 'In my opinion,' said Poll, who was growing crusty from always reading in the London Library, 'chastity is nothing but ignorance - a most discreditable state of mind. We should admit only the unchaste to our society. I vote that Castalia shall be our President?' This was violently disputed. 'It is as unfair to brand women with chastity as with unchastity;' said Poll. "Some of us haven't the opportunity either. Moreover, I don't believe Cassy herself maintains that she acted as she did from a pure love of knowledge? 'He is only twenty-one and divinely beautiful'; said Cassy, with a ravishing gesture. 'I move,' said Helen, 'that no one be allowed to talk of chastity or unchastity save those who are in love.' 'Oh, bother, said Judith, who had been enquiring into scientific matters, 'I'm not in love and I'm longing to explain my measures for dispensing with prostitutes and fertilising virgins by Act of Parliament.' She went on to tell us of an invention of hers to be erected at Tube stations and other public resorts, which, upon payment of a small fee, would safeguard the nation's health, accommodate its sons, and relieve its daughters. Then she had contrived a method of preserving in sealed tubes the germs of future Lord Chancellors 'or poets or painters or musicians; she went on, 'supposing, that is to say, that these breeds are not extinct, and that women still wish to bear children ' 'Of course we wish to bear children!' cried Castalia impatiently. Jane rapped the table. 'That is the very point we are met to consider' she said. 'For five years we have been trying to find out whether we are justified in continuing the human race. Castalia has anticipated our decision. But it remains for the rest of us to make up our minds.'

'On we went through a vast tangle of statistics. We learnt that England has a population of so many millions, and that such and such a proportion of them is constantly hungry and in prison; that the average size of a working man's family is such, and that so great a percentage of women die from maladies incident to childbirth. Reports were read of visits to factories, shops, slums, and dockyards. Descriptions were given of the Stock Exchange, of a gigantic house of business in the City, and of a Government Office. The British Colonies were now discussed, and some account was given of our rule in India, Africa and Ireland. I was sitting by Castalia and I noticed her uneasiness. 'We shall never come to any conclusion at all at this rate,' she said. 'As it appears that civilisation is so much more complex than we had any notion, would it not be better to confine ourselves to our original enquiry? We agreed that it was the object of life to produce good people and good books. All this time we have been talking of aeroplanes, factories, and money. Let us talk about men themselves and their arts, for that is the heart of the matter?'

'"Surely you could teach her to believe that a man's intellect is, and always will be, fundamentally superior to a woman'sps I suggested. She brightened at this and began to turn over our old minutes again. 'Yes, she said, 'think of their discoveries, their mathematics, their science, their philosophy, their scholarship - and then she began to laugh, 'I shall never forget old Hobkin and the hairpin, she said, and went on reading and laughing and I thought she was quite happy, when suddenly she threw the book from her and burst out, 'Oh, Cassandra why do you torment me? Don't you know that our belief in man's intellect is the greatest fallacy of them all?' *What?' I exclaimed. 'Ask any journalist, schoolmaster, politician or public house keeper in the land and they will all tell you that men are much cleverer than women.' 'As if I doubted it,;' she said scornfully. 'How could they help it? Haven't we bred them and fed and kept them in comfort since the beginning of time so that they may be clever even if they're nothing else? It's all our doing!' she cried. 'We insisted upon having intellect and now we've got it. And it's intellect,' she continued, that's at the bottom of it. What could be more charming than a boy before he has begun to cultivate his intellect? He is beautiful to look at; he gives himself no airs; he understands the meaning of art and literature instinctively; he goes about enjoying his life and making other people enjoy theirs. Then they teach him to cultivate his intellect. He becomes a barrister, a civil servant, a general, an author, a professor. Every day he goes to an office. Every year he produces a book. He maintains a whole family by the products of his brain - poor devil! Soon he cannot come into a room without making us all feel uncomfortable; he condescends to every woman he meets, and dares not tell the truth even to his own wife; instead of rejoicing our eyes we have to shut them if we are to take him in our arms. True, they console themselves with stars of all shapes, ribbons of all shades, and incomes of all sizes - but what is to console us? That we shall be able in ten years' time to spend a weekend at Lahore? Or that the least insect in Japan has a name twice the length of its body? Oh, Cassandra, for Heaven's sake let us devise a method by which men may bear children! It is our only chance. For unless we provide them with some innocent occupation we shall get neither good people nor good books; we shall perish beneath the fruits of their unbridled activity; and not a human being will survive to know that there once was Shakespeare!' 'It is too late, I replied. 'We cannot provide even for the children that we have.' 'And then you ask me to believe in intellect,; she said. While we spoke, men were crying hoarsely and wearily in the street, and listening, we heard that the Treaty of Peace had just been signed. The voices died away. The rain was falling and interfered no doubt with the proper explosion of the fireworks. "My cook will have bought the Evening News; said Castalia, "and Ann will be spelling it out over her tea. I must go home. 'It's no good - not a bit of good; I said. 'Once she knows how to read there's only one thing you can teach her to believe in- and that is herself' 'Well, that would be a change' said Castalia. So we swept up the papers of our Society, and though Ann was playing with her doll very happily, we solemnly made her a present of the lot and told her we had chosen her to be President of the Society of the future - upon which she burst into tears, poor little girl.'

An Unwritten Novel

Such an expression of unhappiness was enough by itself to make one's eyes slide above the paper's edge to the poor woman's face - insignificant without that look, almost a sym- bol of human destiny with it. Life's what you see in people's eyes; life's what they learn, and, having learnt it, never, though they seek to hide it, cease to be aware of - what? That life's like that, it seems. Five faces opposite - five mature faces - and the knowledge in each face. Strange, though, how people want to conceal it! Marks of reticence are on all those faces: lips shut, eyes shaded, each one of the five doing something to hide or stultify his knowledge. One smokes; another reads; a third checks entries in a pocket book; a fourth stares at the map of the line framed opposite; and the fifth - the terrible thing about the fifth is that she does nothing at all. She looks at life. Ah, but my poor, unfortunate woman, do play the game - do, for all our sakes, conceal it! As if she heard me, she looked up, shifted slightly in her seat and sighed. She seemed to apologise and at the same time to say to me, 'If only you knew!' Then she looked at life again. *But I do know, I answered silently, glancing at The Times for manners' sake: "I know the whole business."

The String Quartet

Well. here we are, and if you cast your eye over the room you will see that Tubes and trams and omnibuses, private carriages not a few, even, I venture to believe, landaus with bays in them, have been busy at it, weaving threads from one end of London to the other. Yet I begin to have my doubts - Ifindeed it's true, as they're saying, that Regent Street is up, and the Treaty signed,° and the weather not cold for the time of year, and even at that rent not a flat to be had, and the worst of influenza its after effects; if I bethink me of having forgotten to write about the leak in the larder, and left my glove in the train; if the ties of blood require me, leaning forward, to accept cordially the hand which is perhaps offered hesitatingly - "Seven years since we met!' The last time in Venice? 'And where are you living now?' *Well, the late afternoon suits me the best, though, if it weren't asking too much "But I knew you at once!' "Still. the war made a break -' If the mind's shot through by such little arrows, and - for human society compels it - no sooner is one launched than another presses forward; if this engenders heat and in addition they've turned on the electric light; if saying one thing does, in so many cases, leave behind it a need to improve and revise, stirring besides regrets, pleasures, vanities, and desires - ifit's all the facts I mean, and the hats, the fur boas, the gentlemen's swallow-tail coats, and pearl tie-pins that come to the surface - what chance is there?

How lovely goodness is in those who, stepping lightly, go smiling through the world! Also in jolly old fishwives, squatted under arches, obscene old women, how deeply they laugh and shake and rollick, when they walk, from side to side, hum, hah! That's an early Mozart, of course -' But the tune, like all his tunes, makes one despair - I mean hope. What do I mean? That's the worst of music! I want to dance, laugh, eat pink cakes, yellow cakes, drink thin, sharp wine. Or an indecent story, now - I could relish that. The older one grows the more one likes indecency. Hah, hah! I'm laughing. What at? You said nothing, nor did the old gentleman opposite… But suppose - suppose - Hush!' The melancholy river bears us on. When the moon comes through the trailing willow boughs, I see your face, I hear your voice and the bird singing as we pass the osier bed. What are you whispering? Sorrow, sorrow. Joy, joy:. Woven together like reeds in moonlight. Woven together, inextricably commingled, bound in pain and strewn in sorrow - crash!'

wanted to or furniture. so he said, and he was in procause their style of furniture, so he said, and he was in process of saying that in his opinion art should have ideas behind it when we were torn asunder, as one is torn from the old lady about to pour out tea and the young man about to hit the tennis ball in the back garden of the suburban villa as one rushes past in the train. But as for that mark, I'm not sure about it; I don't believe it was made by a nail after all; it's too big, too round, for that. I might get up, but if I got up and looked at it, ten to one I shouldn't be able to say for certain; because once a thing's done, no one ever knows how it happened. Oh dear me, the mystery of life! The inaccuracy of thought! The ignorance of humanity! To show how very little control of our possessions we have - what an accidental affair this living is after all our civilisation - let me just count over a few of the things lost in our lifetime, beginning, for that seems always the most mysterious of losses - what cat would gnaw, what rat would nibble - three pale blue canisters of book-binding tools? Then there were the bird cages, the iron hoops, the steel skates, the Queen Anne coal-scuttle, the bagatelle board, the hand organ all gone, and jewels too. Opals and emeralds, they lie about the roots of turnips. What a scraping paring affair it is to be sure! The wonder is that I've any clothes on my back, that I sit surrounded by solid furniture at this moment. Why, if one wants to compare life to anything, one must liken it to being blown through the Tube at fifty miles an hour - landing at the other end without a single hairpin in one's hair! Shot out at the feet of God entirely naked! Tumbling head over heels in the asphodel meadows like brown paper parcels pitched down a shoot in the post office! With one's hair flying back like the tail of a racehorse. Yes, that seems to express the rapidity of life, the perpetual waste and repair; all so casual, all so haphazard. But after life. The slow pulling down of thick green stalks so that the cup of the flower, as it turns over, deluges one with purple and red light. Why, after all, should one not be born there as one is born here, helpless, speechless, unable to focus one's eyesight, groping at the roots of the grass, at the toes of the Giants? As for saying which are trees, and which are men and women, or whether there are such things, that one won't be in a condition to do for fifty years or so. There will be nothing but spaces of light and dark, intersected by thick stalks, and rather higher up perhaps, rose-shaped blots of an indistinct colour - dim pinks and blues - which will, as time goes on, become more definite, become - I don't know what…'

'What sort of a man is an antiquary, I wonder? Retired Colonels for the most part, I daresay, leading parties of aged labourers to the top here, examining clods of earth and stone, and getting into correspondence with the neighbouring clergy, which, being opened at breakfast time, gives them a feeling of importance, and the comparison of arrowheads necessitates cross-country journeys to the county towns, an agreeable necessity both to them and to their elderly wives, who wish to make plum jam or to clean out the study, and have every reason for keeping that great question of the camp or the tomb in perpetual suspension, while the Colonel himself feels agreeably philosophic in accumulating evidence on both sides of the question. It is true that he does finally incline to believe in the camp; and, being opposed, indites a pamphlet which he is about to read at the quarterly meeting of the local society when a stroke lays him low, and his last conscious thoughts are not of wife or child, but of the camp and that arrowhead there, which is now in the case at the local museum, together with the foot of a Chinese murderess, a handful of Elizabethan nails, a great many Tudor clay pipes, a piece of Roman pottery, and the wine-glass that Nelson drank out of - proving I really don't know what.

No, no, nothing is proved, nothing is known. And if I were to get up at this very moment and ascertain that the mark on the wall is really - what shall we say? - the head of a gigantic old nail, driven in two hundred years ago, which has now, owing to the patient attrition of many generations of house- maids, revealed its head above the coat of paint, and is taking its first view of modern life in the sight of a white-walled fire-lit room, what should I gain? Knowledge? Matter for further speculation? I can think sitting still as well as standing up. And what is knowledge? What are our learned men save the descendants of witches and hermits who crouched in caves and in woods brewing herbs, interrogating shrew-mice and writing down the language of the stars? And the less we honour them as our superstitions dwindle and our respect for beauty and health of mind increases… Yes, one could imagine a very pleasant world. A quiet spacious world, with the flowers so red and blue in the open fields. A world without professors or specialists or house-keepers with the profiles of policemen, a world which one could slice with one's thought as a fish slices the water with his fin, grazing the stems of the water- lilies, hanging suspended over nests of white sea eggs…. How peaceful it is down here, rooted in the centre of the world and gazing up through the grey waters, with their sudden gleams of light, and their reflections - if it were not for Whitaker's Almanack - if it were not for the Table of Precedency!"

' Thus, waking from a midnight dream of horror, one hastily turns on the light and lies quiescent, worshipping the chest of drawers, worshipping solidity, worshipping reality, worshipping the impersonal world which is proof of some existence other than ours. That is what one wants to be sure of…. Wood is a pleasant thing to think about. It comes from a tree; and trees grow, and we don't know how they grow. For years and years they grow, without paying any attention to us, in meadows, in forests, and by the side of rivers all things one likes to think about. The cows swish their tails beneath them on hot afternoons; they paint rivers so green that when a moorhen dives one expects to see its feathers all green when it comes up again. I like to think of the fish balanced against the stream like flags blown out; and of water-beetles slowly raising domes of mud upon the bed of the river. I like to think of the tree itself. first the close dry sensation of being wood; then the grinding of the storm; then the slow, delicious ooze of sap. I like to think of it, too, on winter's nights standing in the empty field with all leaves close-furled, nothing tender exposed to the iron bullets of the moon, a naked mast upon an earth that goes tumbling, tumbling all night long. The song of birds must sound very loud and strange in June; and how cold the feet of insects must feel upon it, as they make laborious progresses up the creases of the bark, or sun themselves upon the thin green awning of the leaves, and look straight in front of them with diamond-cut red eyes…. One by one the fibres snap beneath the immense cold pressure of the earth, then the last storm comes and, falling, the highest branches drive deep into the ground again. Even so, life isn't done with; there are a million patient, watchful lives still for a tree, all over the world, in bedrooms, in ships, on the pavement, lining rooms, where men and women sit after tea, smoking cigarettes. It is full of peaceful thoughts, happy thoughts, this tree. I should like to take each one separately - but something is getting in the way…. Where was I? What has it all been about? A tree? A river? The Downs? Whitaker's Almanack? The fields of asphodel? I can't remember a thing. Everything's moving, filling, slipping, vanishing… There is a vast upheaval of matter. Someone is standing over me and saying 'I'm going out to buy a newspaper?'

#book

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toothpaste-dragon · 5 years ago

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I finally drew some proper fanart of @laughingmist‘s adorable character Melvin! He has such a fun design, and the fact that he’s an adoptive father won me over instantly. It was an absolute pleasure drawing him :>

Not seen here is Melvin eating the flower directly after the picture was taken, haha.

#my art #laughingmist #melvin #melvin darke #this monster dad is a pure cinnamon roll #too good for this world #(or Castalia for that matter)

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steliosagapitos · 3 years ago

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Charles Edward Perugini (British painter) 1839 - 1918 The Ramparts, Walmer Castle; Portraits of the Countess Granville, and the Ladies Victoria and Mary Leveson-Gower, 1891

Oil on canvas; 124 x 184 cm. (48.75 x 72.5 in.). Catalogue Note Christie's Exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1891, this attractive triple portrait shows the second wife and two daughters of one of the great Whig magnates of the Victorian age. Granville George Leveson-Gower, second Earl Granville (1815-1891), entered Parliament in 1837, moving to the Lords, where he headed the Liberal party for many years, on his father's death in 1846. During a long political career serving four prime ministers - Palmerston, Lord John Russell, Lord Aberdeen and Gladstone, he held numerous high offices of state and was associated with some of the most important events and significant issues of the day. As colonial and foreign secretary, posts he held for long periods between 1868 and 1886, he was beset by imperialist crises in India and South Africa, Canada and New Zealand. He also had to cope with the Franco-Prussian War and the ambitions of Bismarck, the aftermath of the great Eastern Question of the 1870s, and the occupation of Egypt that ended so tragically with the death of Gordon at Khartoum in January 1885. His urbane, cosmopolitan outlook was an undoubted asset to his party, while his London house in Carlton House Terrace gave it a social centre in much the same way that Holland House, Kensington, had done earlier in the century. Lord Granville's first wife died without issue in 1860. On 26 September 1865, he married Castalia Rosalind (1847-1938), youngest daughter of Walter Frederick Campbell of Islay, Scotland, and a full thirty-two years younger than her husband. It is she who appears on the left in the picture, now forty-four and looking remarkably youthful for her age. Their marriage was to be blessed with five children: Victoria and Sophia, who always seems to have been known as Mary, are the two girls depicted here. Victoria is seated beside her mother, holding a fan behind her head and an open book, from which she has perhaps been reading aloud, on her lap. Her younger sister approaches with a spray of dog-roses. Victoria was now twenty-four and would remain a spinster for some time, marrying Harold John Hastings Russell, a barrister, in 1896. Sophia married Hugh Morrison of Fonthill House, Tisbury, in Wiltshire. For many years he was prominent in local affairs, serving as High Sheriff of the county, a J.P., and Tory member of Parliament for the Salisbury division from 1918. Both sisters produced children, and both outlived their spouses. The ladies are seen on the Kent coast, looking out over the English Channel. Lord John Russell had made Earl Granville Lord Warden of the Ports in 1865, thus enabling his family to use Walmer Castle as a country retreat. Servants have brought out a wicker sofa, furnished with cushions, together with a side-table, books and newspapers, a footstool for Lady Granville and even a carpet, but to the left looms a large cannon as a reminder of the Castle's original purpose. The juxtaposition of this potent symbol of aggression, cast in uncompromising bronze, and the display of femininity represented by the three aristocratic women, fashionably dressed and indulged with every luxury, does much to give the picture its piquancy and edge. The artist Charles Edward Perugini was aged 52 at the time of the picture's exhibition in 1891 and was at the height of his career, this the picture being one of his most ambitious. He had lavished his utmost skill on depicting the dresses, particularly Lady Granville's grey silk gown, and had devised an enchanting colour scheme in which pearly, iridescent tones are set off by bold touches of lacquer-like red, distributed across the canvas from the table in the left foreground to the geraniums in the right middle-distance. In the past Perugini's speciality had been idealised genre subjects, but these were beginning to go out of fashion and it is hard to resist a suspicion that with The Ramparts, Walmer Castle he was making a bid for greater recognition as a painter of society portraits. Perugini had been born in Naples, the son of a singing-master, but had grown up in England since the age of eight. By 1853 he was in Rome, where he met the young Frederic Leighton, the future president of the Royal Academy and undisputed head of the late Victorian art establishment. Perugini became one of Leighton's many protégés, continuing to receive his financial support well into the late 1870s possibly as payment for studio assistance. Certainly Perugini's style as an artist was greatly influenced by Leighton's, and he explored a similar range of subject-matter, operating, as it were, on the borders between modern life and an idealism in the classical-cum-Aesthetic taste. His Girl Reading, shown at the R.A. in 1878, is a perfect example. Like Leighton, moreover, he was loyal first and foremost to the Academy, where he showed almost every year from 1863 to 1915. In 1874 Perugini married Kate Collins, the younger daughter of Charles Dickens and widow of the Pre-Raphaelite painter Charles Allston Collins. (She was hence the sister-in-law of another novelist, Wilkie Collins). She herself was a talented artist, although she is probably best known to posterity as the model for the distraught young woman in Millais' popular painting The Black Brunswicker of 1860. Perugini too was intimate with the great ex-Pre-Raphaelite. Perugini's portrait of the Granvilles vividly reflects these artistic allegiances. Its high degree of finish and polished surfaces are eminently Leightonesque, while the subject evokes comparison with Millais' Hearts are Trumps, his portrait of the three Armstrong sisters shown at the Royal Academy in 1872, which in turn owes a debt to Reynolds's Ladies Waldegrave. Similarly, if a little more subtly, Perugini's portrait seems to echo Three Ladies adorning a Term of Hymen, Sir Joshua's portrait of the three Montgomery sisters that had been in the National Gallery in London since 1837. The mingling of standing and seated figures in Perugini's design, their conversational interaction, and the part played by flowers (the bouquet in the Countess's lap, the garlands held by Sophia) in linking them together, all suggest that the artist had found inspiration in this monumental work. Only a few portraits Royal Academy were noticed by the critics. F.G. Stephens, the veteran critic on the Athenaeum thought the picture 'pretty and excessively polished, somewhat flat and hard, yet bright, studious, and pure. The ladies are marvellously attired, and beautiful according to the standard of the Book of Beauty'. Stephens felt it was 'Mr Perugini's best work', exhibited to date. The masterpiece to which the artist had so clearly aspired had been achieved.

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forestwhisper3 · 3 years ago

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"’That makes it even worse. I didn't do those things just so they would like me. I did it because it was interesting. Now, they're all trying to invite me over for tea, or trying to grab my attention over something or other. Mrs. Graham has been the most persistent.’

‘Isn't she the woman whose son you punched for making fun of Cloud?’

‘Yeah. I have no idea what's gotten into her. I thought she hated me for that. Heck, she wouldn't even let me look in the direction of her boys until recently- as if I was gonna corrupt them or something! Can you believe that?’ I snickered a bit. ‘Although be fair, Ethan's adorable and so naïve that with my luck I probably would end up doing just that by accident, but Travis doesn't need help.’"

-Horizons (chapter 4)

"‘...Travis?’

He'd been sitting with his head in between his knees as his arms kept his legs in place, but when he heard my voice, he jerked and looked up.

His eyes were red-rimmed.

Travis was very much like his mother- boisterous and pushy, with a strong dislike for being seen as weak. For that reason, I was sure he was going to say something- to deny what I'd seen and storm off in a huff...

But, he didn't.

‘He was always jealous that I could come up here and he couldn't.’

I gave a start, not expecting him to break the silence. He had looked away, but he was still hugging his legs and his voice was quiet, as if trying to make himself as small as possible.

This wasn't like him at all.

‘Then he'd go crying to Ma when I'd tease him about it, and Ma would get mad at me. It's so stupid, but...’ He gave a choked sob, curling more into himself as he shook. ‘But it's all I can think about! Him and his dumb temper tantrums!’

-Horizons (chapter 10)

He threw his arms into the air. ‘Who else could it be? What, you expect me to believe someone here just found it, thought it looked nice and gave it to ya?!’

‘As a matter of fact, yes!’

She could believe that. Cassie didn't really seem interested in any of the boys in town- although she had been hanging out with Travis lately, but she got the feeling they were more friends than anything. She remembered that a lot of the older women would complain about it before ShinRa came, but after the attack of those monsters, they didn't really say anything anymore. Castalia never mentioned it either, so it made more sense for her to receive something as a random gift than a courting one.”

-Horizons (chapter 11)

...I love the smell of character development in the morning at any time of the day.

(made using these picrews:

https://picrew.me/image_maker/61925

https://picrew.me/image_maker/54346

https://picrew.me/image_maker/1011016)

#Horizons- fanfic #Travis Graham- Horizons #He was going to be a one-off character #No joke #I was only intending to use him up to about the end of chapter 4 or 5 #But he kept coming back and now I've grown fond of the little punk #He has a tag now #That means he's here to stay #He should only be about 14/15 to Cassie's 16 but these picrews make him look older #Just use your imagination to make him look his age okay?#And yes. Him and Cassie formed an off-screen/page friendship after that scene on the water tower #Cloud isn't sure how he feels about it

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theimpossiblescheme · 5 years ago

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My Macavity Headcanons:

He’s the eldest son of Old Deuteronomy and Grizabella who was once groomed to become the next leader and protector of the Jellicles. The problem was, even from a young age, he had a problem with throwing his weight around and being a bit of a bully. Every time someone annoyed him, he would remind them that he was Old Deuteronomy’s son and deserved better, and sometimes his natural exuberance could come across as overly pushy and abrasive. For this reason, Deuteronomy decided not to make him his successor, as he feared Macavity might let that power go to his head and abuse it.

He was always highly intelligent and charismatic, as well as being one of the best fighters in the Tribe. Even before he had his powers of hypnotism, he was charming enough that he could beat the tar out of someone and still have them wanting to be his best friend and go hunting together afterward. Very often he used that charm to his advantage whenever he’d done something less than honorable.

His magical abilities came from a very unlikely source—a millenia-old immortal mystical tom named Foxfire. Foxfire claimed that his powers came from the human gods, which made them much more potent than any gift the Everlasting Cat could give… and he could give Macavity some of that power. Fascinated, Macavity accepted, and Foxfire began mentoring the young tom in secret. Little did he suspect, however, that Foxfire had his own reasons for taking him under his wing…

When he was passed over for the roles that were his “birthright”, he became increasingly bitter and jealous toward Munkustrap, and Grizabella’s encouragement and favoritism toward him didn’t help. One day, he decided to finally reveal to the Tribe what kind of power he wielded… by attempting to kill Munkustrap in cold blood. When that failed, he lashed out with his powers at any onlookers, injuring several cats in the crossfire. This led to his exile from the Jellicles, and Macavity took a “better to reign in hell than serve in heaven” attitude toward the matter.

He always thought of his relationship with Bombalurina as purely physical (what she thought of it was a completely different story), but he had truly been in love with Demeter once upon a time. He was an exciting mate who went out of his way to impress her and make every day they spent together an adventure. But as his obsession with honing his powers and regaining his “birthright” made him more distant toward her over time. He didn’t even realize how much they’d drifted apart until he saw her with Munkustrap… and he was furious. In Macavity’s eyes, Munkustrap had already taken away his place in the Tribe—he wasn’t going to take away his mate, too! So when he was exiled, he took Demeter and Bombalurina with him… if he couldn’t have them, then no one could.

He’s the father of at least ten kits—Jemima with Demeter, Electra with Bombalurina, Hestia, Hades, Thetis, Iris, and Apollo with a queen named Serafina (@uppastthejelliclemoon); Alexei with an unknown Russian queen (@star-freckled-kitten), and Sekhmet and Ares with a queen named Athena. (@dcjelliclequeen33)

His first henchcat was a tom named Traven, whom he hypnotized into helping him bringing new henchcats into the fold and letting him use the Tower of London as his fortress. (@bullseyegames) He recruited Bombalurina, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer shortly after, as well as Griddlebone’s granddaughter Chatalune, an French queen named Calypso, and a quartet of upscale queens who moonlighted as show cats—Fantazia, Sparetta, Jokaste, and Zampalesta. Together, all of them except for Traven subtly catnipped the other Jellicles into amnesia while Macavity kidnapped the contestants for the Jellicle Choice and brought them to be killed by Pushdragon, the last surviving member of Growltiger’s Raffish Crew.

His next recruits included Tumblebrutus’s exiled older brothers, Dionysus and Fleuryfling. He could tell they were disillusioned and angry, and he nurtured those feelings to make them more loyal to him and willing to do his dirty work. The two of them would later help Macavity in kidnapping Old Deuteronomy and holding him hostage until Mistoffelees magicked the Jellicle Leader back home.

He and Calypso cultivated a small “family” of their own, along with a French tom named Fabian–Macavity and Calypso had two kittens named Latinus and Moria, and Calypso and Fabian had Ajax and Lillith. They also took in a pair of sisters named Castalia and Kalliste. When they grew up, however, he started treating them less like kittens and more like henchcats. And after Kalliste disobeyed one of his orders, he had her killed, prompting the other five to run away to hide among the Jellicle Tribe. (@thederpyllamaoflove, @uppastthejelliclemoon)

His last acquisitions as henchcats were a trio of scrappy street cats—Rock, Glacier, and Smoke. Rock and Glacier remind him very much of Munkustrap and Tugger, though he’d never admit it, and he’s way more in love with Smoke than he’d ever want to let on. (@themysterycatt)

The cats outside of the Jellicle Tribe know him as basically the feline Don Corleone—gracious and reasonable most of the time and very knowledgeable about human culture, but certainly not someone to be crossed. He’s also singlehandedly kept the different crime rackets in the feline underworld running smoothly and quietly thanks to his involvement, even moving his head of operations to a warehouse across from a nightclub called the Mouser’s Palace so he could be closer to his associates.

In order to keep inspiring loyalty and camaraderie among his followers, he throws a “henchcats’ ball” every year around the same time as the Jellicle Ball. Sometimes other cats will infiltrate the festivities, but Macavity doesn’t mind too much and even welcomed Mistoffelees when he decided to make an appearance… maybe he’ll get to win them over to his side. (@themysterycatt)

He used to have a luxurious mane much like his little brother Tugger’s, but years of living on the street and neglecting his appearance have made it limp, tangled, and shaggy.

He’s always had a rather high metabolism, which makes it so that he can not only eat whatever he likes without gaining much weight, but also that he can use a great deal of magic at a time without tiring out or burning his paws.

He’s both a hypnotist and a pyrokinetic who also has some mild control over electricity.

#cats the musical #macavity #my headcanons #And on today's edition of 'Screw ALW I do what I want...' XD #Edited to more accurately represent a fan family tree--thank you for letting me know! <3

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uppastthejelliclemoon · 5 years ago

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The Mayhem sisters have grown up. All raised by Macavity,Calypso and fabian. One day, he stopped treating them like his kids and starts treating them like henchcats. Except worse, one day he kills one of the sisters in an outburst, nearly killing the other. The other kids manage to get the living sister and they leave to the junkyard, how will they assimilate to the junkyard life despite being raised by Macavity their whole life?

"RUN CASTALIA!” Kalliste screamed, making her sister stumble back.

“I’m not leaving you!” Castalia protested, but Kalliste shoved her.

“Leave, now!”

Moria grabbed her paw, pulling her away. “Come on!” Holding back tears, Castalia turned and ran, trying not to freeze as she heard her sister scream, the backlash of powers forcing the young queen forward. She felt something within her break, and tears streamed down her cheeks as she ran with her siblings. She tightened her grip on Moria’s paw, reaching out blindly to grab onto Latinus, glancing back and making sure that Ajax and Lilith were with them.

“Where are we going, Cast?” Latinus asked.

“Just keep moving!” Castalia ordered, and the younger cats kept close to her.

Ajax ran ahead, pointing in front of them. “There! Duck into that alley!” The five cats darted into the alley, Castalia throwing her magic around her and her siblings to protect them. They ducked down beside a pile of boxes, shaking fearfully.

Lilith pressed close to Castalia, looking around with fear. “What do we do now?”

“We... we need to find the Jellicles.” she said quietly, looking down at her siblings. We need to get to their Junkyard.”

“Will they help us?” Moria asked, and Castalia shut her eyes briefly.

“We have to ask.”

The five siblings walked carefully through the city, Ajax and Lilith scanning the area around them as Castalia led them towards the Junkyard.

Standing just outside the Jelliicles’ territory was a red and black queen and a patched white and brown tom.

“Who’s there?” the tom asked, narrowing his eyes in their direction.

The red and black queen tensed. “Who are you?”

Castalia stepped forward, glancing back at her siblings. “My name is Castalia. Please, Hestia and Calliope know me. My siblings and I need help.”

“I’ll go get Essie.” the patched tom said before running off.

“I’m Bombalurina, and that was Tumblebrutus.” the red and black queen said slowly. “What are your names?”

“These are my brothers, Ajax and Latinus, and these are our sisters, Lilith and Moria.” Castalia told Bombalurina.

Tumblebrutus returned with a familiar grey and red queen following behind him. The queen immediately froze when she saw Castalia, and she tensed. “What are you doing here?”

Castalia stepped forward, reaching out to her sister. “Please, Hestia. Father... Macavity killed Kalliste.” Hestia paused, eyes widening slightly. “He murdered her, and Mother did absolutely nothing, and neither did Papa. She distracted him so that we could escape.”

“Your father is Macavity?” Bombalurina asked, tensing. “And who is... your papa?”

Lilith peeked around Castalia side. “His name is Fabian.”

“Fabian?” Tumblebrutus snapped, glancing behind him towards the Junkyard. “The same Fabian who hurt Calli?”

Ajax stepped forward, looking around nervously. “Please, he’s going to kill us if he finds us!”

“It’s your call, Hettie.” Bombalurina said, stepping back. “Until we get Munk to take a look, it’s up to you.”

Hestia took a deep breath, and smiled slightly at Tumblebrutus as he placed a paw on her arm. “Let them in. We’ll take them to Uncle Straps and figure out what to do.”

Castalia’s face flooded with relief. “Thank you.” Hestia nodded, and Castalia ushered her siblings into the Junkyard. Bombalurina, Tumblebrutus, and Hestia led the five towards the main stage area, where most of the other Jellicles were gathered.

“Uncle Straps?” Hestia called, and a silver tabby looked up. “We’ve got a situation.”

“What are they doing here?” Calliope asked, immediately standing protectively in front of her children.

“This is Castalia, Moria, Latinus, Ajax, and Lilith.” Hestia introduced. “These five escaped from Macavity and came here for safety.” She looked towards her uncle. “There’s no telling what Macavity will do to them if he finds them, but it probably won’t be pretty.” She glanced back at Castalia, shrinking slightly. “We all know that he’s got no problem murdering his own children.”

Munkustrap sighed, looking at his brother, who simply shrugged. He glanced towards Calliope, who was watching the younger ones with something like sadness in her eyes, though she tried to hide it with anger.

“You’re right, Hettie.” the silver tabby finally said.

“So we’re just allowing them to stay?” Jellylorum asked, glaring at the five cats suspiciously.

“We’ve never turned away any cats, no matter their past, and no matter who their parent is.” Munkustrap snapped, and Hestia straightened. “Besides, they're not going to be walking around alone. They’re going to have someone with them at all times.” Hestia looked towards Tugger and Misto, and both toms sighed, sharing a look.

“We’ll look after Castalia, Moria, and Latinus.” Mistoffelees said with a small smile sent towards his daughter. “Heaviside knows Etta’s got a problem with adopting every cat she meets as her sibling.”

“Calli and I will take care of Ajax and Lilith.” Pouncival offered after a silent conversation with Calliope.

“Really?” Lilith asked before she could stop herself.

Calliope nodded. “I’m technically your stepmother.”

“Welcome to the Junkyard.” Munkustrap said with a nod, standing up. “You’re safe here.”

#liv's writing corner

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elencelebrindal · 5 years ago

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Honest Opinion - Hound Asterion

Can’t complain about his Italian name, it’s just a translation for the sake of adaptation (Asterione).

What I will complain about, though, it’s his hideous yellow catsuit.

Overall score (character, not looks): 8/10

Ok, listen. He appeared for... how long? Not enough for me to have a clear view about this character. All I know is that I liked him, and therefore I want to give him a good score, but at the same time he doesn’t deserve a 10/10 because he’s been far too reckless. Though, I cannot hide my happiness at knowing he at least died by the hand (well, by the Eagle Toe Flash) of Marin, instead of Seiya’s. A morbid thought in itself, but what can I do. At this point I can only be happy that these poor Saints didn’t die thanks to an useless teenager.

Enough messing around. Why did I like this character and what my opinion on him? Well, it’s an easy answer.

Asterion, for once, is not straight up presented an inherently bad person. He’s introduced as a Silver Saint that’s struck by grief upon knowing what happened to one of his fellows. I don’t know if I already mentioned it (probably), but something I hated about how they presented the Silver Saints was this insistence on them being evil and “bad guys” and all that crap. I really liked how, contrary to that, they showed a softer side of one of them, even if briefly.

Of course, things went downhill immediately after, as he turned against Marin alongside Moses, but we also got Asterion making amend for his actions, since he actually told Marin he acted like that due to the Pope’s influence.

What I love the most about Asterion it’s his particular abilities, as he’s able to read minds and subsequently elaborate a fighting strategy. It’s obvious he’s capable and smart, and definitely knows what he’s doing, because there’s no way in hell a common fighter would be able to be that strong efficient. He’s been clever enough not only to defeat Marin, but to successfully understand how deceiving she was being.

[Dub digression]

Really short this time. I’ve already tackled this voice actor, as he voices Sage in Lost Canvas, an entry I’ve already done for this series. In fact, you can read it here [...] But I do have something to say about him on Asterion, and it’s not positive. Because that voice is definitely too old for him. Modulated a little bit, but still old. To be fair, all the voices of the Italian dub are older than the canonical age of the characters (listen, I can’t blame them, no one seems a teen in this damn anime, they’re all adults for all care), but Asterion with a voice so old just doesn’t make the cut for me. I think he should have had better, despite the voice actor being absolutely amazing.

You can hear Massimiliano Lotti as Asterion in this video, and have an opinion yourself of how he sounds: Asterione vs Castalia

[End of the dub digression]

Though, stupidity had to be a thing for him to lose. I don’t believe, even for a second, that a Bronze Saint would have been able to defeat him in "realistic” circumstances. His telepathy is way stronger than what a Bronze Saint’s cosmo would be able to shield from, especially if you are aware of the fact he cannot be ahead of an enemy only if an attack is really fast, too fast to be anticipated with mind reading.

So, what made him lose? A plot device. Telling Seiya, who was already enraged. that Marin was his long lost sister. A piece of information that a reasonable person (Asterion included) wouldn’t have disclosed in the middle of a fight, because it’s damn obvious that fury and shenanigans are going to occur.

Luckily, he didn’t just go down. As a matter of fact, true to his Silver Saint cosmo, Asterion managed to use his own technique to knock out Seiya. And I fully appreciated that finally, finally, they showed us something coherent.

All in all, a great character with no screentime. One of way too many with this fate.

#saint seiya #i cavalieri dello zodiaco #knights of the zodiac #los caballeros del zodiaco #os cavaleiros do zodiaco #silver saints #hound asterion #canes venatici #asterion #asterione dei cani da caccia

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cirquenoirerp · 5 years ago

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“She’s always so sarcastic, I can never really tell if she’s serious or not. In fact, it seems like she takes nothing seriously. Maybe when someone dies because of her she will.”

N A M E - Castalia Clare

G E N D E R - Female

A F F I L I A T I O N - Cirque Noire

O C C U P A T I O N - Trapeze/Aerial performer

S P E C I E S - Witch

AGE - 27

FACECLAIM - Danielle Campbell

“LIKE STEPPING INTO A FAIRYTALE UNDER A CURTAIN OF STARS.” -

DEATH TW, SUICIDAL INCLINATIONS TW, CHILD ABUSE TW

Born into the Gemini coven, Castalia grew up knowing that one day she would be required to merge with her twin sister, Callia. This meant that either she would die or she would become a murderer and take the life of her twin sister. There was no real winning, not when the prize was the leader of an antiquated coven of witches who still used such barbaric magic to decide their leaders. This reality weighed on Castalia her entire life, but she never let onto her fears. Instead ran headfirst into any other fear to take her mind away from her impending twenty-second birthday.

As a young girl, Castalia had wanted nothing more than the affection and love of her twin. It seemed that once the pair reached puberty, Callia wanted nothing to do with Castalia, no matter how hard Cas tried, Callia was further away than ever before. It wasn't long until Castalia began finding ways to curb the fear and loneliness that gripped her. Jumping from cliffs, speeding around steeps hills and mountain roads, surfing in self-made storms; Castalia craved the chaos and adrenaline of putting her life in danger. What did it matter if she lived or not? The day she or her sister killed the other was growing closer, and all attempts she made to avoid it all together slipped her grasp. Her fate seemed impossible to ignore and sooner than she had hoped her twenty-second birthday was approaching in under a week.

Dread settled in the pit of her stomach like jagged concrete, and panic robbed Castalia of any sleep as if the nightmare wouldn't follow her into her unconscious thoughts. The night before their birthday, the last together Callia snuck into Castalia's room climbing into bed with her sister like she had when they were children. Surprised and thankful Castalia crumbled in her sister's arms, and the pair spent all night talking in hushed whispers and giggles. By the time the sun peaked through the curtains, Castalia's dread had returned; one night did not make up for over a decade of lost time. They had no time left; just a day of a forced party that the entire coven pretended to enjoy until the moon rose at its highest point and the twins met in the garden for the last time.

Callia assured her sister everything would be okay and through tears Castalia performed the ritual sure she would die, wishing and urging herself to let go so her twin could live. For a moment, fire seemed to rush her veins, and Castalia was left clutching the body of her lifeless sister. A guttural scream pierced the night, and suddenly every premonition her sister had ever had assaulted her mind. Then Castalia knew what Callia had always known; she was never going to win. When Castalia woke over a week had gone by; the power surge of her twins magic and loss at once nearly had the coven lose Castalia as well. As soon as she woke, she was bombarded with requests and responsibility with no time to grieve her sister. It was as if the entire coven, to include their parents had moved on; Castalia could not.

Castalia wanted an escape, she needed an out and when Cirque Noire rolled into her city, and she found herself enamored with the future her sister always knew she was supposed to have Castalia left everything of her own behind; taking a few sentimental items of her sisters and literally ran away with the circus without any intention of ever looking back no matter how long her coven searched; she would never go back to that hell.

“TO BE, RATHER THAN TO SEEM.” -

Castalia drips with sarcasm and cruel quips so often that anyone who has known her for any amount of time believes that she's kidding when in fact she usually is very serious. It's mostly a defense mechanism, an attempt to keep everyone else around her at an arm's length too afraid that it will all get snatched away in any moment. Castalia lives life to the fullest, as recklessly as possible, never saying no enjoying every stolen moment of life as if it is her last.

” I CANNOT STOP DREAMING ABOUT YOU.“ -

Your infatuation -

Mina Malaurie is the entire reason you decided to run away with the circus. You touched her once and a future you didn’t think you deserved flashed before your eyes. She’s a peculiar and intense woman and you’re always wanting to know more about her. There is nearly nothing you wouldn’t do for her just to make her happy. However, you’ve been reluctant to take any permanent steps with her into any sort of future for the simple fact that you feel like you don’t deserve her or any happiness.

Your best friend -

The Cataclysmic was your first real friend within the circus. The pair of you indulge in reckless behavior together. He was the one who introduced you to the fun of riding a motorcycle and you’re the one who convinced him to trick ride at shows. You trust him without reservations and would never purposefully betray him. He is the family you wanted when you lost your twin all those years ago.

Your hookup-

The Coquette is easy to fall into bed with. She’s gorgeous and unattached, you can spend the night with her then go on with your day as if the night hadn’t happened. She is a promising distraction from the life you’re running from and the girl who you push and pull knowing the future is unavoidable.

The Hell Cat (Danielle Campbell) is written by (REY - SHE/HER - EST )

#lsrp bio #danielle campbell #oc rp #skeleton rp #supernatural rp #takenbio #performer #death tw #suicide tw #child abuse tw #castalia clare #witchbio #cirque noire #the hellcat

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inspirited-goddess · 6 years ago

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11/11/11 Tag Game

I was tagged by @insearchof-solace literally a month ago and since I’m just now getting to it, I won’t tag anyone or ask questions at the end but will instead do it just for the fun of it xx

Rules: Answer 11 questions, ask 11 questions, tag 11 people!

1. What’s your favorite genre of scene to write (action, fluff, angst, etc)?

- When I imagine action, the scene flows perfectly in my head...but putting those words to paper will always be The Greatest Challenge™️. I do enjoy writing fluff, though, because it’s fluff! 🥰

2. Would you tell anyone that you write, or only a select few?

- Well most people who know me irl know that I write and have been for several years; it’s no secret, and when I meet new people and we get to know each other I let them know that writing is my hobby and my dream career.

3. Do you ever read your work out loud?

- No, because most of the time I write at night and don’t wanna wake my family (I share a room with three siblings), but I do use the read-aloud option on Microsoft Word so a robotic voice reads it for me. I’m able to hear and see all the mistakes as I follow along.

4. Which are you more interested in, character or plot? Or is it pretty equal?

- It’s pretty equal. Most of the time the plot makes for incredible characters, and other times, if you have a badass female antagonist or just a chaotic good character, I will NUT cherish them forever without really caring for the plot

5. What’s your favorite type of relationship to read about in fiction?

- If it’s healthy, I’m all here for it. That stalker/abusive/manipulative/toxic/etc. shit isn’t and never will be attractive and enjoyable to me. Miss me with that bullshit!!

6. Have you ever used an OC for roleplay?

- Ew, no.

7. Which do you have more fun writing: characters who are the most or least like you?

- I don’t think about myself at allll when creating/writing characters lmao

8. What are some of the names you haven’t used, but would love to give a character one day?

- YOOOO I CREATED A FREAKING LIST FOR THIS!! I’ve been adding various names for future potential characters to this list for almost two years now, and they are: Urbana, Alena, Qaron, Bez, Castalia, Andromeda, Ara, Nym/Nyma, Midnyte, Horizon, Ceres, Tade, Elias/Elyas, Clyde, and Astraea, but the list grows whenever I hear/see a name I like

9. What time of day are you most motivated to write?

- It’s not a matter of motivation for me, it’s when I’m actually willing to sit down and write. I would do it more often than I currently do, but improvising a desk is hard and very annoying when I don’t already have one. But I do usually write at night

10. Do you prefer large scale or small scale stories (i.e. characters saving the world vs characters who live fairly normal lives dealing with personal struggles)?

- Ew, I get bored hella easily by the ordinary-life based stories and typically enjoy the “characters saving the world” type book, because those are usually fantasy. I won’t shit on the other genres, though, because they have excellent writers. However, if the two concepts are intertwined, it’s even better.

11. What are you reading right now? Has it inspired you in any way?

- Unfortunately I haven’t sat down to read a book in a while (school/work and life is a bitch) but many of the books I have read have contributed something to my writing by either how the characters are portrayed, how the author conveyed their words through various wording/lines, and how they made me feel, because I want to make people feel like that reading my work one day

If you read this far, thanks for sticking around and learning something about me through my answers! Don’t be afraid to tag me in more of these tag games xx

#tag #tag game #writing tag #writers on tumblr #writeblr #about my writing #11/11/11 tag

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awesomehardgivercollection · 4 years ago

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innuendostudios · 7 years ago

Video

youtube

Superposition, a 25-minute dissection of Life is Strange’s genre fuckery. As ever, you can keep this work coming by supporting me on Patreon. Transcript below the cut.

Maybe you knew this already, but Life is Strange is a weird-ass video game, one that is, by turns, a nakedly honest point-and-clicker about teen girls and a psychosexual freakout on the nature of choice. It doesn’t exactly marry these two themes painlessly and I’m, frankly, unconvinced it’s trying to.

Mechanically, Life is Strange - a game by Dontnod - is a mostly faithful iteration on the Telltale adventure game model: a lot of mid-90’s LucasArts design, several recent innovations, and a heaping dose of Heavy Rain. Like a Telltale game, you navigate a 3D world and interact with your environment using context-sensitive button presses. And, like a Telltale game, play consists of simple adventure game puzzles, plot-branching decisions, and a whole lot of dialogue. Like a Telltale game, it’s released in five episodes, where choices you make in one will alter the contents of episodes down the line, and it has the same notifications that a choice will have consequences, the same frequent autosave to keep you from replaying too much of the game, and the same breakdown at the end of an episode that compares your choices with those of other players. But one hallmark of a Telltale game that is conspicuously absent is the thing that makes Telltale’s choices so meaningful: the timer.

A timer at the bottom of the screen ticking down every time you make a decision enforces a particular type of play. See, Telltale doesn’t want you to deliberate on your choices, Telltale wants you to act on your gut, which sometimes means making a choice you come to regret and having to live with it for the rest of the game. But, in Life is Strange, players are given the ability to rewind time, letting them see the all results of just about every choice, every puzzle, every line of dialogue, before making up their minds and proceeding. Players can deliberate forever. If you were to keep two saves going so you could see all outcomes of your choices, that would be playing against Telltale’s design philosophy, which is about living with your decisions, but, here, save-scumming is a core mechanic.

Now, I dunno what the developers’ thought process was, but I like to imagine them coming up with this idea and then asking, “OK, say a person could actually do this, could see every possible future stemming from their actions and pick the one they think is best; what would the logical endpoint of that story be?”

Hahaaahahaahaahaaa, okay. Okay. Alright.

The plot mechanics of Life is Strange are fucking bizarre. It is, in essence, two entirely different stories rolled up into the same package. These two stories contain all the same characters and all the same plot points, but exist in wildly different genres and have wildly different themes. For the first two-and-a-half-ish episodes, you appear to be playing a tender coming-of-age story, while the second two-and-a-half-ish are a Lynchian psychodrama that seems designed with the express purpose of complicating, then rejecting, and, ultimately, attempting to devour the coming-of-age story and erase all records of its existence. And then, in a truly bugfuck climax, the game point-blank asks you, the player, which of these two stories you want an ending to.

Why don’t we start at the beginning?

Max Caulfield is a student at the prestigious Blackwell Academy in her hometown of Arcadia Bay. Like a lot of people her age, she’s a little awkward, a little shy. She’s on her own for the first time - several years earlier, she and her family moved to Seattle, and her parents are still there while she’s moved into the Blackwell dorms. Max hasn’t maintained any of her local friendships, and, while she gets along with everyone who doesn’t actively hate her, she doesn’t have a group, or any close friends, except maybe the boy who has a crush on her. She’s also devoted to photography - it’s what she’s here to study - and greatly admires her photography teacher, but she’s too nervous to submit her work to the big photo competition, despite her teacher’s encouragement.

One day, after an intense vision in her photo class, Max bears witness to the school bully pulling a gun and shooting a girl in the bathroom, and, in that moment, she, as if by instinct, discovers that she can reverse time by up to a minute or two. After a bit of trial and error she manages to change history, preventing the girl’s death. And, that strangeness aside, she steps back into her normal life with her newfound abilities.

This is the setup for a very particular genre of story, albeit one with a more fantastical bent than usual. This genre has a name, but I’m only going to say it once, because it’s long, and German, and when American’s start dropping long, German words into their sentences they come off as seriously pretentious and even I have limits. But the word is Bildungsroman.

Now, English-speakers often use this term interchangeably with “coming-of-age story,” but it’s actually a specific genre with specific themes. The novel most often referenced as the first… story of this kind is Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship, and other notable examples include Jane Eyre, The Glass Bead Game, and A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Classically, these are stories about indecision, about a youth, pulled in many directions, trying to decide what kind of adult they’re going to be. The tension is not between protagonist and antagonist - traditionally, there is no real antagonist - but between protagonist and society. The adult world has expectations of the main character, and that character needs to decide to what extent, as a grown-up, they want to satisfy those expectations and to what extent they want to pursue their own happiness. The usual emotional arc of a… German coming-of-age story is accepting that maturity means taking on the world’s demands - shouldering your share of society’s burdens - and learning to fit your happiness around that responsibility: Wilhelm Meister leaves the theater and becomes a doctor, Jane Eyre marries on her own terms, Joseph Knecht leaves Castalia to become a teacher in the larger world (though sometimes the battle between personal happiness and social responsibility is not resolved simply).

The early going of Life is Strange fits snugly into the… genre. There are even subgenres that are “coming into one’s own as a student” and “coming into one’s own as an artist,” which revolve around mentor characters, so tick those off the list as well. After discovering her powers, Max runs into the girl from the bathroom in the parking lot and realizes it’s her best friend from childhood, Chloe, and the two become nearly inseparable. When Max reveals her abilities, Chloe enlists her in the hunt for Rachel Amber, a friend of hers who vanished recently, and what follows is less a traditional plot than, typical of the genre, a string of vignettes, this one loosely structured around a search for the missing girl. These various episodes gives Max many windows into lives she could lead. Stick it to the mean girl, or turn the other cheek? Down-to-earth boyfriend or maybe unpredictable girlfriend? Reach out to the girl being mistreated by a security guard, or take a photo for art? These are all hallmarks of the genre: questions of ethics, the wholesome love vs. the wild love, dedication to others vs. dedication to art.

You might think that the ability to call do-over on any decision would make these choices easier, but you’d be wrong - time travel makes all of them harder! Dedicating yourself to photography means breaking a hurting girl’s heart; kissing the wild love means devastating the wholesome love. At one point, Max changes history so dramatically that she actually visits an alternate timeline, where she’s popular with the girls who had previously mistreated her but isn’t friends with Chloe at all. This only drives home that, no matter what life she leads, there will be a cost. She can’t have everything; there is no one right answer. No matter what she chooses, she’s doing wrong by someone. This sets up the classic arc where she’s going to have to make some big decisions about what maturity means to her, and those decisions will involve sacrifices.

At least, that’s how it works on paper. In practice, the game only sometimes strikes that balance where all options have merits and drawbacks and no one is empirically better than the others. More often it’s like, ok, you’re trying to get into this RV but there’s an angry dog inside: do you distract the dog by throwing a bone into the parking lot, or kill the dog by throwing the bone into traffic? And that’s a fake choice. No one kills the dog. Why would you kill the dog? And then there’s the small mercies, like keeping someone from getting splashed by muddy water, which… ok, that isn’t a sacrifice; there is no reason not to do that.

So let’s say the time travel works as an imperfect metaphor for youthful indecision. And what pleasures can be drawn from this section of the game are to do with how much you enjoy earnestness. There’s a commitment from the designers to tackle subjects that are very uncommon to video games - from teen suicide to euthanasia to budding queer romance - and it’s hard not to respect their willingness to go there. Real effort has been put into addressing these subjects seriously, and these sequences can be very affecting… even as none of them entirely hit the mark. The scene where you talk a suicidal Kate off a rooftop, for all its intensity, is, mechanically, Kate quizzing you on how much flavor text you read in her room earlier; the sequence where alt-universe Chloe wants to die takes great pains to not be ableist towards paraplegics while still being kind of ableist towards paraplegics; and the budding queer romance often seems about two sentences away from turning into a late-night Showtime erotic drama that is obviously written by middle-aged men. But it’s not crass! The game’s heart is on its sleeve, and the writers clearly mean everything they say even when they don’t entirely know what they’re talking about. And if you can appreciate sincerity even as you acknowledge its failings, then you can appreciate the game for what it is: it’s like Max, awkward but well-meaning, naive, possessing a good heart and still kind of ignorant.

And that’s Life is Strange.... until the second half of the game happens.

In this story, time traveling teenager Max Caulfield and her best friend, Chloe Price, hot on the trail of the missing girl, Rachel Amber, discover that her story was not a tragic one of a wayward youth getting in over her head with her drug-dealer boyfriend, but one in which she was sedated, photographed, and murdered in an underground facility straight out of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. In trying to track down the boy they think is responsible, Max suddenly drops to the ground with a needle in her neck and watches helplessly as her best friend dies from a bullet to the head, then wakes up tied to a chair by the real killer: her photography professor, Mr. Jefferson. This is a story about regret, choice, and loyalty, full of serial killer monologues and hallucinatory imagery; a story where people look in the sky and see the moon doubled and the beach fills with the bodies of dead whales.

After two and a half episodes of vignettes, Life is Strange has decided it has an honest-to-goodness plot, one that bears a striking resemblance to, well... the designers want me to say Twin Peaks, but, honestly, the greater debt it owes is to Donnie Darko: Max is guided by an animal figure only she can see and who is probably the spirit of a dead character; Chloe is a teenager who’s only alive due to the interventions of a time traveller and this is causing a number of supernatural events to occur; just before the climax our hero is up on a hill coming to a difficult conclusion after watching her girlfriend die as a curious weather pattern descends on the town below; Chloe realizes that maybe the only way to set things right is to go back in time and die like she was originally fated to and then none of this awfulness will have ever happened; and multiple episodes end with tracking shots of all the major characters montaged together while melancholy pop music plays underneath… it’s not subtle.

As you can imagine, going from Jane Eyre to Donnie Darko is a bit of a tonal shift. In fairness, the game does set all these threads up in the first half, and it’s not like the coming-of-age story disappears (the euthanasia subplot actually happens past the midpoint), it’s just that what used to be background texture have become subjects in their own right, and they make the coming-of-age story look pretty out of place, Like, the love triangle between Chloe, Max, and Warren made sense in a coming-of-age story but it’s just ridiculous when your relationship with Chloe is tearing apart the fabric of reality and Warren is just a dude. In this story, the antagonist is not society but the very literal villain you thought was the mentor figure. The narrative tension is not about Max finding herself but about fixing mistakes, and hopefully not getting murdered in the process. Chloe is not a wild love but the possible instigator of the apocalypse. And Max’s powers are not a metaphor for indecision but a pointed meditation on what it means to be a protagonist, but more on that in a minute.

This half also has some ideas about choice that complicate what choice meant in the first half. There’s a scene where you try to get information from Rachel Amber’s ex-boyfriend, and, thanks to Max’s powers, you can see it play out a lot of different ways, but you start to realize that possibly the only way that nobody gets hurt… is if you killed the dog earlier in the game. Four episodes in Life is Strange decides it actually is a game about living with decisions you can’t undo!

When I started this video talking about Telltale, that wasn’t just an easy point of reference - what originally seemed like an interesting take on the Telltale model now seems as though it has a bone to pick with games of that type. The complaint so often lobbied against Telltale is that it promises your choices will have significant impact on the story; lots of people criticize them for not delivering on that promise, but Life is Strange seems to criticize Telltale for making the promise in the first place. Why, the game asks, should you even want that responsibility?

I mean, let’s look at how Max escapes Mr. Jefferson’s studio. Earlier in the game, Max discovers that she can travel to any point in the past that is captured in a photograph. So, through the photos Jefferson has on hand, she starts leaping back to different points in the game’s continuity adjusting her decisions, trying to tweak the timeline, undo mistakes. She’s looking for a scenario where she is free, Chloe is alive, and, if at all possible, no tornado is bearing down to wipe Arcadia Bay off the map, in case you forgot that’s a thing that’s happening. As when she first used her powers to save Chloe, it takes some trial and error, but she pulls it off - Mr. Jefferson’s in jail, Chloe is safe, and, hey, she even got her photo into that competition, and, what do you know, she won! Instead of tied up in a murderer’s photography studio, she’s in San Francisco with a new and better mentor figure, and her art is up on the wall, and she’s the toast of the show. This is a hyper-idealized ending to the coming-of-age story - after finally making up her mind and taking decisive action, Max has come into her own as a student, an artist, and a young woman.

Then she checks in on Chloe. There is always a cost.

Stories about teenagers who develop superhuman abilities often frame themselves as coming-of-age stories - it’s not a coincidence how many fall back on the puberty metaphor. Even without time travel or gamma rays, growing up means gaining power and independence one didn’t have as a child, so everyone is expected to learn - let’s all say it together - “with great power comes great responsibility.” But, however much superpowers serve as symbols for growing up, they are also wish-fulfillment. We may agree that Peter Parker should use his newfound strength with discretion, but it still feels good to watch him beat up the bully. And we may be saddened by Uncle Ben’s death, but we’re still glad that it turns Peter into Spider-man. Because that’s what we’re here to see. That’s a tension endemic to the genre - that, on the one hand, power is dangerous and must be be used sparingly, and, on the other hand, power is awesome, and we pay money to see characters wield it. And law and order, good and evil, life and death are all present not as subjects deserving of their own films but as means of centering a protagonist in an interesting story, compelling him to use his awesome powers, and teaching a boy how to be a man.

This tension is at the heart of Telltale games, as well, and most games in that model. They may present as being about futility, about being a miniscule player in an enormous, losing game, but the plot still contorts itself to ensure the most dramatic and impactful decisions rest on the protagonist’s shoulders. And however terrible that responsibility is implied to be, players play because they want to make those decisions, and complain when they are not impactful enough.

In Life is Strange, Max comes to realize that all the bizarre occurrences - the moons, the whales, the tornado - have been caused by her leaping through time. That she can’t set things right because trying to set things right has and will only ever make things worse. This isn’t just a false ending; this is an evisceration of the game you thought you were playing for the first two and a half episodes. Max gives up her perfect ending and goes back to the studio in one last effort to save Chloe, while the game stares down the player and says, “How dare you think this was a coming-of-age story. How dare you think time travel was a neat way to work through your indecision. How could you think a power this great could ever be used responsibly? How could you think the consequences for your mistakes would be borne by you and you alone?”

This sets up an arc where Max will have to do what superhero movies almost never do: truly reckon with how dangerous real power can be.

This point gets hammered for the rest of Episode 5. I got rescued by Chloe’s step-dad, and when he learned Chloe was dead he killed Mr. Jefferson, and the game was like, hey, do you want to go back and change that? And I was like, I don’t know anymore. I could, but will changing things just make them go even more wrong? And when I go back and save Chloe, will any of this have even happened? And, fuck, there’s a tornado gonna come kill all of us anyway, so is there any scenario where this choice even matters? Then, above ground, the game still let me perform those small mercies, but, like, great, you’re welcome, hope you enjoy the five minutes I just added to your life cuz you’re still gonna die and it’s all my fault but I want my girlfriend back so I’m gonna jump back one more time and make things just a little bit worse.

Even when you do get Chloe back, the game has made you aware of the horrible cost your entire community will pay for you having used your powers to save her again and again and again. Your only goal has been to fix your mistakes and you’re being punished for having even tried! The game deposits you on a hill to watch as Hell descends on the town below, and then tells you, in so many words, “This is the price you paid for your friend.”

And then it asks, “Would you like a refund?”

Seeing what’s happened to Arcadia Bay, Chloe says that, if there’s a chance it will undo everything that’s occurred, she wants you to go back in time to the bathroom and let her die. Maybe that’s just the way fate wanted things to happen. And it’s up to you to grant or deny her wish.

This final decision is the game offering you two very appropriate endings for the two very different games you have been playing. Per the themes of the… coming-of-age story of the Germanic persuasion, Max’s arc is learning to sacrifice for the greater good. She can’t have it all, she can’t satisfy everyone, and sometimes doing right by your society means giving up something you love. In the battle between personal happiness and responsibility, responsibility wins. Sometimes the wild love is someone you have to let go of - be grateful for your time together and kiss her goodbye. She knows what’s right - it’s better this way.

Per the themes of the Lynchian psychodrama, have you fucking lost it?? What about the last 12-odd hours of gameplay in which trying to change the past universally makes the present worse gave you the idea that going back “one more time” could possibly fix anything? Have you learned nothing? Yes, you fucked up, and all of this is your fault, but in real life people have to live with their fuckups, even the big ones. No one has the right to change history. You can’t keep trying to control this. This is bigger than you and Chloe. You have to let go.

That’s about as incompatible as two endings can be. In one, all the themes of the first half of the game are thrown in a lake and Max never finds her place in society because society gets eaten by a tornado, and in the other the whole psychodrama plotline and all its attendant themes are literally erased from history. Whichever you pick, whichever plot you decide is the right one, a sizable portion of the game will be rendered meaningless. And we should acknowledge that these two themes, Sacrifice For The Greater Good and Learn To Live With Your Mistakes are not, in real life, things we get to choose between. Maturity means doing both.

If you elect to keep Chloe alive, Max and Chloe wordlessly drive out of town. And maybe it’s meant to be an unresolved ending that sticks with you for a while - T2 meets Thelma and Louise - and that might be a pretty bold decision if the game didn’t autosave right before The One Choice You Can’t Make Twice, which means everyone is going to reload 5 minutes after they finish and watch the other ending which is just… is just in all conceivable ways better. The ending where Chloe dies is longer, it has proper closure, there’s this funeral scene that is so cathartic it doesn’t even make sense (you two never even met Chloe in this timeline, why are you here???). And it confirms that, yeah, you didn’t have to live with your mistakes, going back would have fixed everything. Worse, it boils the ending choice down to Who Do You Love More, Chloe or Everyone Else?, the reason fans have dubbed the ending “bay or bae,” but whether or not you love Chloe the mostest isn’t really what all that stuff about fucking up the timeline was getting at. If ever a game needed to pull a Swapper and erase your save after you make the final decision, this was it.

And that’s how Life is Strange ends. I honestly can’t tell you if this game is good, I can’t even tell you if I liked it, but I think… I think I loved it? I mean, that last decision is kind of bullshit, but I got real choked up making it. Now we’ve got word that both a sequel and a prequel are in the works, and, frankly, I’m apprehensive. There is a certain power to starting with an emotionally resonant genre and then ramming it headlong into a weirder, darker, more ambitious genre, and that’s a move that only works when you’re not expecting it. Do I wanna critique how effectively Life is Strange goes off the rails when once I was dumbfounded that it did at all? Life is Strange was like nothing I’d ever played, for good and for ill; a sequel will like at least one thing I’ve played already. And I don’t even know if I should like this game! When people talk shit on it, I don’t even disagree, and yet here we are. Ah, fuck it. I don’t even know. Life is Strange, everyone. Wowser.

#Life is Strange #adventure games #video essay #telltale #dontnod

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ivytarablair · 7 years ago

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WOMEN SWEEP THE HUGOS, I LOVE IT

https://www.theverge.com/2017/8/11/16127310/2017-hugo-awards-n-k-jemisin-science-fiction-fantasy-books

https://twitter.com/SFF180/status/896094928215842816

WHAT COULD I POSSIBLY TYPE HERE??

From The Verge: Women swept nearly every category at the 2017 Hugo Awards

by Andrew Liptak @AndrewLiptak Aug 11, 2017, 3:31pm EDT

Here’s the full list of nominees and winners (in bold) for 2017’s Hugo Awards:

BEST NOVEL

The Obelisk Gate by N. K. Jemisin

All the Birds in the Sky by Charlie Jane Anders

A Closed and Common Orbit by Becky Chambers

Death’s End by Cixin Liu

Ninefox Gambit by Yoon Ha Lee

Too Like the Lightning by Ada Palmer

BEST NOVELLA

Every Heart a Doorway by Seanan McGuire

The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor LaValle

The Dream-Quest of Vellitt Boe by Kij Johnson

Penric and the Shaman by Lois McMaster Bujold

A Taste of Honey by Kai Ashante Wilson

This Census-Taker by China Miéville

BEST NOVELETTE

The Tomato Thief by Ursula Vernon

Alien Stripper Boned From Behind By The T-Rex by Stix Hiscock

The Art of Space Travel by Nina Allan

The Jewel and Her Lapidary by Fran Wilde

Touring with the Alien by Carolyn Ives Gilman

You’ll Surely Drown Here If You Stay by Alyssa Wong

BEST SHORT STORY

Seasons of Glass and Iron by Amal El-Mohtar (The Starlit Wood: New Fairy Tales, Saga Press)

The City Born Great by N. K. Jemisin

A Fist of Permutations in Lightning and Wildflowers by Alyssa Wong

Our Talons Can Crush Galaxies by Brooke Bolander

That Game We Played During the War by Carrie Vaughn

An Unimaginable Light by John C. Wright

BEST RELATED WORK

Words Are My Matter: Writings About Life and Books, 2000-2016 by Ursula K. Le Guin (Small Beer)

The Geek Feminist Revolution by Kameron Hurley

The Princess Diarist by Carrie Fisher

Traveler of Worlds: Conversations with Robert Silverberg by Robert Silverberg and Alvaro Zinos-Amaro

The View From the Cheap Seats by Neil Gaiman

“The Women of Harry Potter” posts by Sarah Gailey

BEST GRAPHIC STORY

Monstress, Volume 1: Awakening, written by Marjorie Liu, illustrated by Sana Takeda

Black Panther, Volume 1: A Nation Under Our Feet, written by Ta-Nehisi Coates, illustrated by Brian Stelfreeze

Ms. Marvel, Volume 5: Super Famous, written by G. Willow Wilson, illustrated by Takeshi Miyazawa

Paper Girls, Volume 1, written by Brian K. Vaughan, illustrated by Cliff Chiang, colored by Matthew Wilson, lettered by Jared Fletcher

Saga, Volume 6, illustrated by Fiona Staples, written by Brian K. Vaughan, lettered by Fonografiks

The Vision, Volume 1: Little Worse Than A Man, written by Tom King, illustrated by Gabriel Hernandez Walta

BEST DRAMATIC PRESENTATION – LONGFORM

Arrival, screenplay by Eric Heisserer based on a short story by Ted Chiang, directed by Denis Villeneuve

Deadpool, screenplay by Rhett Reese & Paul Wernick, directed by Tim Miller

Ghostbusters, screenplay by Katie Dippold & Paul Feig, directed by Paul Feig

Hidden Figures, screenplay by Allison Schroeder and Theodore Melfi, directed by Theodore Melfi

Rogue One, screenplay by Chris Weitz and Tony Gilroy, directed by Gareth Edwards

Stranger Things, season 1, created by the Duffer Brothers

BEST DRAMATIC PRESENTATION – SHORTFORM

The Expanse: “Leviathan Wakes,” written by Mark Fergus and Hawk Ostby, directed by Terry McDonough

Black Mirror: “San Junipero,” written by Charlie Brooker, directed by Owen Harris

Doctor Who: “The Return of Doctor Mysterio,” written by Steven Moffat, directed by Ed Bazalgette

Game of Thrones: “Battle of the Bastards,” written by David Benioff and D. B. Weiss, directed by Miguel Sapochnik

Game of Thrones: “The Door,” written by David Benioff and D. B. Weiss, directed by Jack Bender

Splendor & Misery [album], by Clipping

BEST EDITOR – SHORTFORM

Ellen Datlow

John Joseph Adams

Neil Clarke

Jonathan Strahan

Lynne M. Thomas & Michael Damian Thomas

Sheila Williams

BEST EDITOR – LONGFORM

Liz Gorinsky

Vox Day

Sheila E. Gilbert

Devi Pillai

Miriam Weinberg

Navah Wolfe

BEST PROFESSIONAL ARTIST

Julie Dillon

Galen Dara

Chris McGrath

Victo Ngai

John Picacio

Sana Takeda

BEST SEMIPROZINE

Uncanny Magazine, edited by Lynne M. Thomas & Michael Damian Thomas, Michi Trota, Julia Rios, and podcast produced by Erika Ensign & Steven Schapansky

Beneath Ceaseless Skies, editor-in-chief and publisher Scott H. Andrews

Cirsova Heroic Fantasy and Science Fiction Magazine, edited by P. Alexander

GigaNotoSaurus, edited by Rashida J. Smith

Strange Horizons, edited by Niall Harrison, Catherine Krahe, Vajra Chandrasekera, Vanessa Rose Phin, Li Chua, Aishwarya Subramanian, Tim Moore, Anaea Lay, and the Strange Horizons staff

The Book Smugglers, edited by Ana Grilo and Thea James

BEST FANZINE

“Lady Business,” edited by Clare, Ira, Jodie, KJ, Renay, and Susan

“Castalia House Blog,” edited by Jeffro Johnson

“Journey Planet,” edited by James Bacon, Chris Garcia, Esther MacCallum-Stewart, Helena Nash, Errick Nunnally, Pádraig Ó Méalóid, Chuck Serface, and Erin Underwood

“nerds of a feather, flock together,” edited by The G, Vance Kotrla, and Joe Sherry

“Rocket Stack Rank,” edited by Greg Hullender and Eric Wong

“SF Bluestocking,” edited by Bridget McKinney

BEST FANCAST

Tea and Jeopardy, presented by Emma Newman with Peter Newman

The Coode Street Podcast, presented by Gary K. Wolfe and Jonathan Strahan

Ditch Diggers, presented by Mur Lafferty and Matt Wallace

Fangirl Happy Hour, presented by Ana Grilo and Renay Williams

Galactic Suburbia, presented by Alisa Krasnostein, Alexandra Pierce and Tansy Rayner Roberts, produced by Andrew Finch

The Rageaholic, presented by RazörFist

BEST FAN WRITER

Abigail Nussbaum

Mike Glyer

Jeffro Johnson

Natalie Luhrs

Foz Meadows

Chuck Tingle

BEST FAN ARTIST

Elizabeth Leggett

Ninni Aalto

Vesa Lehtimäki

Likhain (M. Sereno)

Spring Schoenhuth

Steve Stiles

BEST SERIES

The Vorkosigan Saga by Lois McMaster Bujold

The Craft Sequence by Max Gladstone

The Expanse by James S.A. Corey

The October Daye Books by Seanan McGuire

The Peter Grant / Rivers of London series by Ben Aaronovitch

The Temeraire series by Naomi Novik

JOHN W. CAMPBELL AWARD FOR BEST NEW WRITER

Ada Palmer

Sarah Gailey

J. Mulrooney

Malka Older

Laurie Penny

Kelly Robson

#Hugo Awards #Women in Scifi #Ada Palmer #n.k. jemisin #seanan mcguire #ursula vernon #ursula k. le guin #lois mcmaster bujold #vorkosigan #the expanse

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forestwhisper3 · 3 years ago

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Okay, so I’m doing random internet browsing today, right? And just for the heck of it, I decide to look up online keyblade creators just to see if those are a thing. One of them that I came across doesn’t let you design what it looks like, but it does tell you a name and stats for one based on your name. Figuring, “why not?” I put in the name Ignis, after my SI/OC, and found the results/description a little funny and strangely accurate (although the name does leave something to be desired).

Read on below the cut if you’re curious:

Also did one for Castalia for the heck of it, and I’m dying.

Keep in mind I only input the first name for these two, and further messing around showed me that results will be different if you add a last name. If I put “Castalia Allen” into this thing, it gives me this:

A little different, but still kind of similar to the first. Interesting.

Oh, here’s what I got when I put in my actual name (first and last). It’s...jeez. I honestly choked a bit while I was drinking some water because what the hell?

Seriously, what is with these stats? And the rest of it, for that matter? The name, description and keychain are all some Mary-Sue looking stuff and that makes me uncomfortable.

My name’s not even unique. I have no idea why this program would decide this would be my keyblade.

Anyway, despite the last result, this was pretty fun. I’ll leave the link for this below just in case you want to mess around with it too. If you’re up for it, lemme know what you get! I’m curious.

https://en.shindanmaker.com/864025

#Just mucking around on the internet #I wonder how this thing works #I thought it was pretty accurate for Ignis and Castalia but with my own name...#No #Makes me WAY better than I am #So...yeah #Back to exploring the interwebs #P.S.#If you do this try making one for Vincent Valentine.#It's hilarious.#It's a bit more accurate if you only use his first name #But his has still convinced me that these are are hit-or-miss kind of thing.

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westmeathlibrary · 8 years ago

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2017 Hugo Award finalist announced

Best Novel

All the Birds in the Sky by Charlie Jane Anders check the library : https://goo.gl/HJ3YKu

A Closed and Common Orbit by Becky Chambers check the library : https://goo.gl/oVCEIP

Death’s End by Cixin Liu download the ebook : https://goo.gl/3YDwKM

Ninefox Gambit by Yoon Ha Lee check the library : https://goo.gl/p5eooA

The Obelisk Gate by N. K. Jemisin check the library : https://goo.gl/TvFNpU

Too Like the Lightning by Ada Palmer

Best Novella

The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor LaValle

The Dream-Quest of Vellitt Boe by Kij Johnson

Every Heart a Doorway by Seanan McGuire check the library : https://goo.gl/H4SIYd

Penric and the Shaman by Lois McMaster Bujold

A Taste of Honey by Kai Ashante Wilson

This Census-Taker by China Miéville check the library : https://goo.gl/zqmWk6 | Download the ebook : https://goo.gl/9FCm9X

Best Novelette

Alien Stripper Boned From Behind By The T-Rex by Stix Hiscock

“The Art of Space Travel” by Nina Allan

“The Jewel and Her Lapidary” by Fran Wilde

“The Tomato Thief” by Ursula Vernon

“Touring with the Alien” by Carolyn Ives Gilman

“You’ll Surely Drown Here If You Stay” by Alyssa Wong

Best Short Story

“The City Born Great” by N. K. Jemisin

“A Fist of Permutations in Lightning and Wildflowers” by Alyssa Wong

“Our Talons Can Crush Galaxies” by Brooke Bolander

“Seasons of Glass and Iron” by Amal El-Mohtar

“That Game We Played During the War” by Carrie Vaughn

“An Unimaginable Light” by John C. Wright

Best Related Work

The Geek Feminist Revolution by Kameron Hurley

The Princess Diarist by Carrie Fisher check the library : https://goo.gl/yf29oF

Traveler of Worlds: Conversations with Robert Silverberg by Robert Silverberg and Alvaro Zinos-Amaro

The View From the Cheap Seats by Neil Gaiman check the library : https://goo.gl/c51s8q

“The Women of Harry Potter” posts by Sarah Gaile available online : http://www.tor.com/tag/women-of-harry-potter/

Words Are My Matter: Writings About Life and Books, 2000-2016 by Ursula K. Le Guin (Small Beer)

Best Graphic Story

Black Panther, Volume 1: A Nation Under Our Feet, written by Ta-Nehisi Coates, illustrated by Brian Stelfreeze

Monstress, Volume 1: Awakening, written by Marjorie Liu, illustrated by Sana Takeda check the library : https://goo.gl/CIUaFP

Ms. Marvel, Volume 5: Super Famous, written by G. Willow Wilson, illustrated by Takeshi Miyazawa check the library : https://goo.gl/uBYW7Q

Paper Girls, Volume 1, written by Brian K. Vaughan, illustrated by Cliff Chiang, colored by Matthew Wilson, lettered by Jared Fletcher check the library : https://goo.gl/Yzw5YD

Saga, Volume 6, illustrated by Fiona Staples, written by Brian K. Vaughan, lettered by Fonografiks check the library : https://goo.gl/05n1hk

The Vision, Volume 1: Little Worse Than A Man, written by Tom King, illustrated by Gabriel Hernandez Walta check the library : https://goo.gl/xDTSNm

Best Dramatic Presentation – Long Form

Arrival, screenplay by Eric Heisserer based on a short story by Ted Chiang, directed by Denis Villeneuve

Deadpool, screenplay by Rhett Reese & Paul Wernick, directed by Tim Miller

Ghostbusters, screenplay by Katie Dippold & Paul Feig, directed by Paul Feig

Hidden Figures, screenplay by Allison Schroeder and Theodore Melfi, directed by Theodore Melfi

Rogue One, screenplay by Chris Weitz and Tony Gilroy, directed by Gareth Edwards

Stranger Things, Season One, created by the Duffer Brothers

Best Dramatic Presentation – Short Form

Black Mirror: “San Junipero”, written by Charlie Brooker, directed by Owen Harris

Doctor Who: “The Return of Doctor Mysterio”, written by Steven Moffat, directed by Ed Bazalgette

The Expanse: “Leviathan Wakes”, written by Mark Fergus and Hawk Ostby, directed by Terry McDonough

Game of Thrones: “Battle of the Bastards”, written by David Benioff and D. B. Weiss, directed by Miguel Sapochnik

Game of Thrones: “The Door”, written by David Benioff and D. B. Weiss, directed by Jack Bender

Splendor & Misery [album], by Clipping

Best Editor – Short Form

John Joseph Adams

Neil Clarke

Ellen Datlow

Jonathan Strahan

Lynne M. Thomas & Michael Damian Thomas

Sheila Williams

Best Editor – Long Form

Vox Day

Sheila E. Gilbert

Liz Gorinsky

Devi Pillai

Miriam Weinberg

Navah Wolfe

Best Professional Artist

Galen Dara

Julie Dillon

Chris McGrath

Victo Ngai

John Picacio

Sana Takeda

Best Semiprozine

Beneath Ceaseless Skies, editor-in-chief and publisher Scott H. Andrews

Cirsova Heroic Fantasy and Science Fiction Magazine, edited by P. Alexander

GigaNotoSaurus, edited by Rashida J. Smith

Strange Horizons, edited by Niall Harrison, Catherine Krahe, Vajra Chandrasekera, Vanessa Rose Phin, Li Chua, Aishwarya Subramanian, Tim Moore, Anaea Lay, and the Strange Horizons staff

Uncanny Magazine, edited by Lynne M. Thomas & Michael Damian Thomas, Michi Trota, Julia Rios, and podcast produced by Erika Ensign & Steven Schapansky

The Book Smugglers, edited by Ana Grilo and Thea James

Best Fanzine

“Castalia House Blog”, edited by Jeffro Johnson

“Journey Planet”, edited by James Bacon, Chris Garcia, Esther MacCallum-Stewart, Helena Nash, Errick Nunnally, Pádraig Ó Méalóid, Chuck Serface, and Erin Underwood

“Lady Business”, edited by Clare, Ira, Jodie, KJ, Renay, and Susan

“nerds of a feather, flock together”, edited by The G, Vance Kotrla, and Joe Sherry

“Rocket Stack Rank”, edited by Greg Hullender and Eric Wong

“SF Bluestocking”, edited by Bridget McKinney

Best Fancast

The Coode Street Podcast, presented by Gary K. Wolfe and Jonathan Strahan

Ditch Diggers, presented by Mur Lafferty and Matt Wallace

Fangirl Happy Hour, presented by Ana Grilo and Renay Williams

Galactic Suburbia, presented by Alisa Krasnostein, Alexandra Pierce and Tansy Rayner Roberts, produced by Andrew Finch

The Rageaholic, presented by RazörFist

Tea and Jeopardy, presented by Emma Newman with Peter Newman

Best Fan Writer

Mike Glyer

Jeffro Johnson

Natalie Luhrs

Foz Meadows

Abigail Nussbaum

Chuck Tingle

Best Fan Artist

Ninni Aalto

Alex Garner

Vesa Lehtimäki

Likhain (M. Sereno)

Spring Schoenhuth

Mansik Yang

Best Series

The Craft Sequence by Max Gladstone

The Expanse by James S.A. Corey check the library : https://goo.gl/BPqw2h

The October Daye Books by Seanan McGuire check the library : https://goo.gl/pRAJ0l

The Peter Grant / Rivers of London series by Ben Aaronovitch check the library : https://goo.gl/GIdO7V

The Temeraire series by Naomi Novik check the library : https://goo.gl/c1cOrM | Download the ebooks : https://goo.gl/eN4Zar

The Vorkosigan Saga by Lois McMaster Bujold check the library : https://goo.gl/sHAx1C

John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer

Sarah Gailey

J. Mulrooney

Malka Older (check the library : https://goo.gl/rCgf0x)

Ada Palmer

Laurie Penny (check the library : https://goo.gl/wx7yfm)

Kelly Robson

#Hugo awards #science fiction #book awards

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