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n7inky-fanfics · 3 years ago

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One Day at a Time

The destruction of the Reapers did not mean galactic peace. While the treaties Shepard had brokered during the war remain mostly intact, there is no shortage of pirates, criminals, gangs, and terroristic organizations bent on creating chaos and destruction. The Council began directing their Spectres towards overseeing and protecting reconstruction efforts and maintaining peace. Now that scientists are close to unlocking the key to repairing the mass relays, the galaxy has settled into unease. No one knows if crime will get better or worse with the relays back online. All factions are getting agitated, and more fighting is breaking out.

Sometimes, Kaidan pities the poor soul on the wrong end of Shepard's gun. More than once, he has heard all sorts of people shout something along the lines of "Oh shit, it's Shepard!" as they realized they were about to die. Shepard is a skilled soldier who dominates the battlefield with equal parts strength and grace. Fighting alongside her can be almost beautiful in an odd and violent sort of way, especially when she used her biotics. It took her almost a year of practice fighting on her military grade prosthetic leg, but she has now found that grace on the battlefield again. In the end, her skills and her career could not be taken by the Reaper War. The galaxy kept its greatest protector.

Today, they are both back on Mars, of all places, fighting a remnant of Cerberus that is attempting to steal more data from the archives. If intel is correct, their goal is to find weapons they can use "for the betterment of humanity", which is their way of saying anti-alien terrorism. Kaidan does have to admit that some part of him enjoys taking down pieces of Cerberus. After all the horrible things he's seen them do, including all that they have put Shepard through, he's glad to eliminate every last cell in the galaxy. It's a worthy career goal.

As the smoke clears, Shepard begins checking the bodies for data pads, hoping to find anything to indicate how many of them are at the archives and what their exact plans are. After all, if this was just an outdoor lookout team, there's bound to be more already inside. She freezes as she reads one of the data pads. Kaidan can barely see her face through her helmet, but her reaction to the data pad can't be good. "Shepard, what is it?"

She clears her throat and says calmly "It's not pertinent to the mission. Let's move on." She drops the data pad and continues towards the entrance. Kaidan trusts Shepard, but curiosity gets the better of him and he glances down at the data pad as he passes by. It currently displays the owner's profile. He can see an image that he guesses matches the body they found it on and a name. "Andrew Mason".

As they enter the archive, they happily find a distinct lack of civilian and scientist casualties. This time, intel learned of the plan early and decided to evacuate the scientists and ship in more soldiers. Unfortunately, Cerberus still puts up a good fight and many of the Alliance soldiers were injured or killed before the Spectres arrived (travel between systems takes more time now that the relays are gone). Shepard hops on to the nearest terminal and accesses the system logs. "Ah, here it is. Someone opened an archive five minutes ago. We can take the tram there."

"Perfect. Maybe this time we'll make it through without getting shot at." Immediately after making the joke, Kaidan winces at the realization that bringing up their last mission on Mars might not be a good idea. Sure, they've worked everything out, but it still could be a touchy subject. He was pretty cruel to her last time, before he almost died in front of her.

"Doubtful." Shepard laughs lightly as they board the tram.

They ride quietly for a moment before Kaidan asks "So, will I get to know who Andrew Mason is?"

"Maybe later. Now's not the time."

"Fair." Kaidan says. He smiles at her, hoping she can see it through the helmet. His is much more open and visually blocks less of the face. Shepard's preferred gear usually allows less visibility, but it also has fewer structural weak points. He noticed a change in her treatment of her armor not too long after he got back on the Normandy, but he's never said anything. Without asking, he already knows why Shepard chooses armor with the most reinforced environment system, and why she carefully and almost obsessively maintains it. He would, too, in her shoes.

He refocuses himself on the task at hand as they begin approaching their destination. They've almost made it when a Cerberus soldier begins firing at the car. They both take cover behind the wall and the dance begins yet again. As the car docks, Shepard throws up a barrier and runs out, shooting at several men in a row as she charges to cover. Kaidan focuses on the heavy trooper slowly approaching from a distance and Reaves. Together, they feed off each other's energy. The can move in sync, watching each other's sixes and supporting each other throughout the entire battle. Before long, the docking zone falls silent as the battle ends.

They take turns clearing doors until they finally get to the archive. They take cover on either side of the door. He opens it carefully, and Shepard immediately swings around to cover him with her pistol. The immediate entryway is surprisingly empty. Shepard gestures for him to follow, then slowly and quietly moves inside the room until they reach a sharp turn. She takes cover against the wall and peers around the corner, gun at the ready. As soon as she does, she is thrown backwards by a large biotic force. Her gun fires before she even hits the wall. Kaidan swings around and unleashes a singularity that pulls the target into the air. Shepard fires again, making several headshots that eventually pierce the armor and hit their mark.

"Thanks for the cover, Alenko." She says, her smile coming through in the sound of her voice. She pats him on the back and pushes further into the room, where the target had been collecting data onto a drive. She plugs the data into her omnitool and runs it through analysis softwares. Liara would be able to tell them more, but it appears that intel was correct. They had been here for advanced weapons blueprints. Shepard begins forwarding the information back to the Normandy, then turns to head back to the LZ. Kaidan follows her.

Getting back to the Normandy and conferencing with Admiral Hackett is no big deal. After the verbal debriefing, they retire to her cabin to write their mission reports. Kaidan's ship, the SSV London (named for the Battle of London that ended the Reaper War), is still getting it's final touches before he'll be able to take it out on a shakedown run, so he rode along with Shepard for this mission and their last several. As they settle into the couch with their tea and data pads, he can't help but smile. This is a good life, one he hadn't expected to attain. Every day, sometimes several times a day, he still finds himself thankful that they had found Shepard after the Crucible. When the Alliance had formally declared her missing in action, with the caveat that she was most likely dead, Kaidan refused to lay down and wait for them to declare her death. He contacted Hackett with an emergency QEC on the Normandy and told him that until they found a body, Shepard was to be considered alive and in need of assistance. They all owed that to her. Seeing her here and now, living her life with him, is something he is grateful for every day.

As Kaidan is putting the final touches on his report, Shepard sets her data pad on the table and walks to her shower, stripping off articles of clothing as she goes. He fumbles over the keyboard, leaving a line of text that reads "ghdhshgdg" as he watches her go. Knowing that he's watching, she calls "finish your report first, and then you can join me." He deletes the line of typos, hurriedly wraps up the report, and follows her for an enjoyable interlude.

Their activities eventually end with them cuddling in her bed. She lay with her head resting gently on his chest, her hand absentmindedly rubbing circles on through his chest hair. He has one arm around her back and gently brushing strokes down her upper arm. He can feel her back subtly rise and fall with her breath. They lay this way for a while before he feels a slight dampness on his chest, where her head is. "Hazel, are you okay?" he asks, looking down at her. Her face is buried in him. She stifles a sob, and he feels the shift in her breathing as she forces herself to cry silently. He wraps his arms around her tighter. "Sweetheart, whatever it is, I've got you." Slowly, she pulls herself back and looks at him. He reaches up to her and gently wipes the tears from her cheeks. She pulls herself into a sitting position against the headboard, and he follows so that they are sitting side by side.

She leans her head on his shoulder and quietly says "You asked about Andrew Mason?"

"Yeah. Do you want to talk about it?"

"I knew him... from before the Alliance." she ends the sentence at barely a whisper. Her shoulders tense and she looks down at the floor. "He was one of the younger kids in the Reds before I left." He gently reaches for her hand and takes it in his as she continues. "I heard he'd gotten out, that he'd joined the Alliance some time after my death. I had hoped he'd do well and go far, but it didn't work that way. I checked his records when we got back to the ship. His team got ambushed by some pirates about seven months before the Reapers invaded. He was discharged honorably for medical reasons, for PTSD. I guess that's when Cerberus got to him."

"Hazel, I'm so sorry." he says.

"The hell of it is that I can see myself in that kid. In what he came from, in his escape. What if I somehow influenced his decision to leave like that? How many kids joined after hearing fantastical stories about my life, only to be swooped up by Cerberus when the Alliance didn't live up to their expectations or to die in battle before they got the chance to reconsider?"

"Hey, stop that. It's not your fault, Hazel."

"How many people died because of me? Will continue to die because of me? Because I failed?" Her voice cracks and she lets out a shuddering breath.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Backup. Failed at what?"

"I couldn't save them all. I can never save them all."

"Hazel, stop. Look at me." He gently places his hand under her chin and guides her to look at him. "You are not responsible for every person in the galaxy. You've spent far too much of your life fighting galactic wars practically on your own. Enough is enough. We stopped the Reapers. Now, we just do what we can to make things a little better. One day at a time, okay?"

She nods and he pulls her into a tight embrace. "One day at a time." She sniffles.

#fanfic #mass effect #commander shepard #female shepard #kaidan alenko #shepard x kaidan #f!shenko #shenko #shepard #fshenko

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brionycl · 4 years ago

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* madison bailey, cisfemale + she/her | you know briony clarke, right? they’re twenty-two, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, their whole life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to around you by free cake for every creature like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole so many plants in an apartment that you can barely walk around, being on a first name basis with the coffee shop baristas, making a chandelier with wine bottles she personally finished thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is august seventh, so they’re a leo, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( ruby, 24, est, she/her )

G E N E R A L:

b a s i c s

full name: briony renee clarke

birth date: august 7, 1998

birth place: irving, nc

sexual orientation: heterosexual

occupation: helping out at her aunt’s antique store and writing freelance articles for anyone that will publish her

education: newly graduated from college with a BFA in Journalism

positive traits: intuitive, saccharine, debonair

negative traits: nihilistic, restless

a p p e a r a n c e

eye color: hazel

hair color: brown black

height: 5′9″

face claim: madison bailey

f a m i l y

mother - janet clarke nee simmons

father - wayne clarke

aunt - pamela simmons

b a c k g r o u n d (tw; alcoholism)

briony was conceived to save a marriage. a shiny new baby was her parents way of clinging to each other. it was to their surprise- and their surprise alone- that this did not work. tending to a baby only heightened their burgeoning marital problems. neither one of them had the patience or tenacity to raise a child so within six months of coming home from the hospital briony was pawned off to her aunt. everyone that knew anything about janet and wayne clarke new this probably for the best. neither one of them had ever held a job for more than a few months and after every job loss they had a habit of finding comfort in the bottle as much as in each other.

briony still sees her parents regularly. they all gather at pamela’s house once a week for dinner. at least that’s the plan. janet and wayne are occasionally too intoxicated to make the short trek. once- when briony was old enough- she rode her bike to her parent’s house just to see what could be more important than spending time with their daughter only to find them both passed out in the living room, bodies slouched into uncomfortable sleeping positions and empty beer cans next to them both.

pamela simmons is an absolute character. she has nothing but love for her sister even though she spent most of her life cleaning up janet’s mistakes. she raised briony on classic literature and old jazz records. her house was decorated as eclectically as her shop- an antique store in town- and she constantly shifted merchandise between the two locations.briony loves the shop. she spends pretty much all of her free time there. eventually, she started working; it started with light organization and grew into an almost management position by the time briony graduated high school.

she went way for college. the plan was always ‘see the world and write about it’. her aunt had an extensive collection of time magazines that fascinated briony to no end. She read and reread her favorite articles until the ink faded. they’re what started her pursuit of a journalistic career.

she rarely came home over breaks. if she wasn’t taking extra classes to graduate early, she was traveling or visiting friends homes all over the country. she never expected to move back home to irving, but life caught her off guard. journalism is a competitive field- and she knew that- but rejection letter after rejection letter and she found herself back in her childhood bedroom, picking up shifts at her aunt’s shop.

she still writes freelance and pitches her pieces to anyone and everyone that will bite, but shes starting to see the appeal in staying in place and letting the world move around her.

w a n t e d c o n n e c t i o n s

childhood friends - she’s been in irving her entire life and she’s pretty personable so she probably has more than one

lost acquaintance- as soon as briony turned eighteen she got the hell out of dodge. she probably had a few friends that she did not maintain contact with. now that she’s back maybe they can rekindle.

unrequited love- briony romanticizes everything so it really wouldn’t take much for her to crush

confidant- someone that’s not necessarily her friend, but they know enough about each other to feel comfortable enough to continue to divulge secrets. maybe libations are involved ?

college friends- this is a long shot, but someone she met in college that for whatever reason moved to irving with her ?

a shop regular- someone that comes into her aunt’s antique shop regularly. they’re on a strictly first name basis, but briony finds herself neglecting other customers just to maintain conversation.

anything really !!

#irvingintro

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t100ficrecsblog · 4 years ago

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an interview with @burninghoneyatdusk (she/her) What are you working on right now? Right now I’m prioritizing prompts for the Bellarke Writers for BLM Initiative, which is a mix of new prompts and requests for WIP updates. I just posted a chapter update of my fic Voices in the Water, which is a canon-verse/everyone is a grounder arranged marriage AU with a bit of a twist, and next I’m working on a new prompt. After that, I’ve got three chapters of All Because of You requested. All Because of You is a modern AU with bellarke as *platonic* coparents. The story is told in alternating flashbacks and present day (every other chapter). The flashbacks focus on them growing closer during Clarke’s unplanned pregnancy and the present is seven years later, where they have to come to terms with their feelings for each other when Clarke gets engaged to someone else.

What’s something you’d like to write one day? I would love to publish a novel one day. For years I had a YA dystopian/time travel trilogy kind of planned but I poked too many holes in it and want to start from scratch in that regard. Another novel I want to write is one that covers three generations of women, looking at mother-daughter relationships, women in society, generational trauma… a lot of stuff. It was inspired by learning about my grandmother’s life more and thinking about how it impacted her relationship with my mother, and in turn my mother’s relationship with me.

For fanfiction, beyond my current prompts and WIPs, I have two other fics outlined. One is an AU inspired by the movie Plus One. The other is a soulmate AU that’s a bit dark and involves immortality, magic, and essentially Bellamy as a villain with a redemption arc.

What is the fanwork you’re most proud of? I think All Because of You will probably remain my most popular, but right now I’m most proud of Voices in the Water. More so than my other fics, it has a more concise plot and I’ve done a deeper dive into Clarke’s character as an Azgeda assassin and I think the reader really gets into her head more than my other multiple POV fics. It’s also my first canonverse fic and I’ve enjoyed diving into that world and expanding upon it where I want.

When did you first start writing fic? I didn’t start writing fic until the beginning of 2019. I first published in February 2019, which was Homesick (It’s a Bittersweet Feeling). It was my first fic and the only multichapter WIP that’s complete right now, so it’s a special story for me.

What frustrates you most about fic writing? I’ve mostly had only a positive experience with fanfic writing. With the exception of a couple stray comments, my readers have been gracious, kind, and most importantly, patient. But I guess it can be challenging when you self-impose pressure because you’re aware that people are waiting for you to publish so sometimes I rush things. I haven’t personally experienced this, but I think that fic writing can also be frustrating when readers feel like you owe them something or unnecessarily offer negative comments that aren’t at all constructive. Some people forget that people are publishing stories for free, in their spare time, often in addition to full-time jobs or school and parenting.

What are your top five songs right now? 1. castles (freya ridings) 2. maniac (conan gray) 3. fired up (grace carter) 4. I am not afraid (g flip) 5. wanna be (betty who)

What are your inspirations? (books, songs, other fic) I take inspiration from all of those things but I would say mostly quotes and random photos on tumblr. I wrote Homesick because I liked the step-siblings/forbidden trope and wanted to write in a small town setting like the one I grew up in. All Because of You was honestly the classic “this is my bedtime daydream story I think about every night” so it’s pretty self-indulgent with the tropes I wanted to use. Voices in the Water was started because I loved the grounder!Bellamy / arranged marriage trope. The wanheda twist came from me reading the 4x11 script to screen with Clarke trying to force herself to shoot Bellamy to save humanity, but realizing that she can’t.

What first attracted you to Bellarke? What attracts you now? I’m not sure I remember a specific moment but I think I remember bellarke being all over my tumblr dash when I started s2 so kind of paying close attention to them during s2. s2 was of course a great season for them and by the ‘knocking on heaven’s door’ scene in 2x16 I was a goner.

Regarding what drew me to them, I think I’ve always loved a good slow burn with the partners/”I’ve got your back” vibe that they have. My first (and biggest) OTP before them was tony & ziva from NCIS which is a really similar vibe although a very different show.

Besides Bellarke, what character or pairing do you like best on t100? I think that Memori is probably my second place ship. Before s7, I would say there was a HUGE gap between my love of Bellarke and Memori, but this season has made me an even bigger Memori fan. I have to say that while I don’t think there was ever a chance of Murven happening, I do understand why people ship it. I think they have great chemistry/a great dynamic and in another life, so to speak, I would have shipped them.

Regarding characters on their own, I just love all my delinquents, but I think that Murphy is solidly my third favorite character. Raven and Octavia are probably tied behind him.

Why did you decide to start bellarkefic-for-blm? I credit the reason to Kara ( @queenemori ). (Sidenote: everyone go follow her! She’s an amazing fanfic writer and overall just a really positive, awesome person to have in the fandom). I remember reading her post - and I won’t try to paraphrase, so please take the time to read her it - but in general it got me thinking about how we as a fandom could support the BLM movement in a substantial way that is more than just spreading posts on social media, and in a way that doesn’t lose momentum as time goes on and the movement becomes less “trendy.” I thought about how many people collectively read our fanfiction and how we provide it for free, and if people could just pay a few dollars or however much they can afford and donate that to the cause, we collectively could make a huge difference. So that’s what I’m hoping this is - making a substantial difference in a way that doesn’t fade in time and also uses the power of fandom in a useful way. We have a lot of power if we collectively put it towards something like this instead of fighting over ships or actors or whatnot. I also figured that maybe we’d have readers who weren’t paying attention to the movement and that maybe because they want to submit a prompt, they’d do some research on where to donate, and that in turn helps educate them on the issue - or is at least a start.

Has it been as successful as you’d hoped? So on the positive side, I do think it’s incredible that in about six weeks we’ve raised nearly $1250 and have been able to donate to a variety of organizations. I’m incredibly grateful for the authors donating their time and the enthusiastic readers participating. I don’t mean to sound negative at all, but if I’m being honest, I do feel a little frustration at the lack of participation across the fandom as a whole or maybe more specifically across the AO3 readers. I know that my WIP chapters average about 1k hits per update. That’s a lot of people. Even if you cut that in half because maybe people are rereading, that’s still 500 people. So why are only about 20 of my readers donating to this initiative? I think it’s a bit discouraging when you look at the percentage in that way.

That’s not to say that I don’t understand that some aren’t financially in a position to donate, but I’ve made it clear that there are other ways to contribute (e.g. signing petitions, writing to politicians) and there hasn’t been traction with that either. So I think that in general, something is always better than nothing and it has in no way discouraged me from continuing this. But I’m hoping that more people are able to participate as time goes on. It’s truly a win-win situation of generating more fanfics for readers and donating to an important issue, so I hope to see the percentage of fanfiction readers submitting prompts increase and am doing what I can to continue spreading the word about it.

I guess in summary what I’m saying is, I’m proud of what the fandom has done so far, but let’s step it up. We can do more, we can do better. Maybe people will get pissed I said that, but idk. If you read fic and can buy a $3 coffee, you can donate to this cause. It’s important. As was Kara’s point, let’s not see this momentum fade when the BLM movement becomes less ~trendy~.

What are some things you’d like to recommend? Instead of writing an essay about all the fics I love, I’d like to link both my bookmarked fics which is my complete list of bellarke fic recs.

I also want to recommend visiting the Bellarke Writers for BLM Initiative writers’ page - these writers are incredible so please go check out their existing works and continue requesting prompts for the BLM movement!

On the note of BLM, I'd also like to link this article. It's older, written in the aftermath of the Charleston attack, but it remains one of the most thought provoking pieces I've read on race in our country.

it was my honor to interview burninghoneyatdusk! honestly, if you aren’t reading Voices in the Water, which is Bellarke except Clarke is an assassin, you should be. it haunts me. she also organized the very cool bellarkefic-for-blm.

#bellarke fic #bellarke #the 100 fanfiction #memori #clarke griffin #interview

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akathecentimetre · 5 years ago

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Hey there, so I really like history as a subject, and I'm pretty good at it. The thing is, I don't know what my career options would be if I studied it, or if I would be able to make money. My parents are heavily discouraging me from taking it as a major. As a 'historian' in training' what's your take? Thank you

Hi there! Sorry for the delay, ‘tis the hectic season…

Oh man, I have so many thoughts for you. Full disclosure: this is something I have worked on a LOT over the course of my graduate career both at my uni and on a national level; most of my advice, however, comes from a PhD candidate’s perspective and may not be directly helpful to an undergraduate, and I should also emphasize that everything I can say on this is very firmly based on the U.S. market only. That being said, a lot of what I can say can be universally applied, so here we go -

The number of history undergraduates in the U.S. has plummeted in the last decade or so, from it previously being one of the most popular majors. There are many interacting reasons for this: a changeover from older to younger, better-trained, energetic professors who draw in and retain students has been very slow to occur, partly because of a lack of a mandatory retirement age; the humanities have been systematically demonized and minimized in favor of the development of STEM subjects, to the occasional benefit of students of color and women but to the detriment of critical public discourse and historical perspective on current events; with many liberal arts colleges going under financially and the enormous expansion of academic bureaucracy everywhere, resources are definitely being diverted away from social and human studies towards fields which are perceived to pay better or perceived, as mentioned in the article above, as being more ‘practical.’ (We do need a ton more healthcare workers/specialists, but that’s a different conversation to have.) But now I feel like quoting a certain Jedi Master: everything your parents say is wrong. Let’s dive into why being a historian is a positive thing for you both as a person and as a professional -

You will be a good reader. As you learn to decipher documents and efficiently and thoroughly read secondary literature, you will develop a particular talent for understanding what is important about any piece of writing or evidence (and this can go for visual and aural evidence as well). This will serve you well in any position in which you are collecting/collating information and reporting to colleagues or superiors, and evaluating the worth of resources. Specific example - editorial staff at publishing houses either private or academic, magazines, etc.

You will be a good writer. This will get you a good job at tons of places; don’t underestimate it. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been astonished (not in a punitive way, of course, but definitely with a sense of befuddlement) by how badly some of my Ivy-league students can write. Good writing is hard, good writing is rare, and good writing is a breath of fresh air to any employer who puts a high premium upon it in their staff. History in principle is the study of change; history in practice is presenting information in a logical, interesting, and persuasive manner. Any sort of institution which asks you to write reports, summaries, copy, etc. etc. will appreciate your skills.

You will be a good researcher. This sounds like a given, but it’s an underappreciated and vital skill. Historians work as consultants. Historians work in government - almost every department has an Office of the Historian - and in companies, writing company histories and maintaining institutional archives. A strong research profile will also serve you well if you want to go on to work in museum studies and in libraries public or private/academic. As a historian, you will know not just where to find information, but what questions you have to ask to get to the answer of how to tackle, deconstruct, and solve a problem. This is relevant to almost any career path.

You will provide perspective. Historians react to current events in newspapers and online - not just on politics, but culture as well (my favorite article of this week is about the historicity of The Aeronauts). Historians act as expert witnesses in court proceedings. Historians write books, good books, not just meant for academic audiences but for millions upon millions of readers who need thoughtful, intelligent respite from the present. Historians work for thinktanks, providing policy analysis and development (a colleague of mine is an expert on current events of war in Mali and works for multiple thinktanks and organizations because of it). Historians work for nonprofits or lobbying groups on issues of poverty, environmental safety, climate change, and minority and indigenous rights. In a world when Texas school textbooks push the states’ rights narrative, historians remind us that the Civil War was about slavery. Historians remind us that women and people of color have always existed. In this time and world where STEM subjects are (supposedly) flooding the job market, we need careful historical perspective more than ever. We need useful reactions to the 2016 election, to the immigration travesties on display at the southern border, to the strengthening of right-wing parties in Europe - and history classes, or thoughtfully historical classes on philosophy and political science, are one of the few places STEM and business students gain the basic ability to participate in those conversations. [One of my brightest and most wonderful students from last year, just to provide an anecdote, is an astrophysics major who complained to me in a friendly conversation this semester that she never got the chance to talk about ‘deep’ things anymore once she had passed through our uni’s centralized general curriculum, which has a heavy focus on humanities subjects.]

You will be an educator. Teaching is a profession which has myriad challenges in and of itself, but in my experience of working with educators there is a desperate need for secondary-school teachers in particular to have actual content training in history as opposed to simply being pushed into classrooms with degrees which focus only on pedagogical technique. If teaching is a vocation you are actually interested in, getting a history degree is not a bad place to start at all. And elementary/high schools aside, you will be teaching someone something in every interaction you have concerning your subject of choice. Social media is a really important venue now for historians to get their work out into the world and correct misconceptions in the public sphere, and is a place where you can hone a public and instructive voice. You could also be involved in educational policy, assessment/test development (my husband’s field, with a PhD in History from NYU), or educational activism.

If some of this sounds kind of woolly and abstract, that’s because it is. Putting yourself out there on the job market is literally a marketing game, and it can feel really silly to take your experience of 'Two years of being a Teaching Assistant for European History 1500-1750’ and mutate it to 'Facilitated group discussions, evaluated written work from students [clients], and ran content training sessions on complex subjects.’ But this sort of translation is just another skill - one that can be learned, improved, and manipulated to whatever situation you need it to fit.

Will you make money? That’s a question only you can answer, because only you know what you think is enough money. That being said, many of the types of careers I’ve mentioned already are not low-paying; in my experience expertise is, if you find the right workplace and the rewarding path, usually pretty well-remunerated.

Specific advice? Hone your craft. Curate an active public presence as a historian, an expert, a patient teacher, and as as person enthusiastic about your subject. Read everything and anything. Acknowledge and insist upon complexity, and celebrate it when you can.

And finally - will any of what I’ve said here make it easy? No, because no job search and no university experience is easy these days. It’s a crazy world and there are a lot of awful companies, bosses, and projects out there. But I do very firmly believe that you can find something, somewhere, that will suit your skills, and, hopefully, your passions too.

Resources for you: the American Historical Association has a breakdown of their skills-based approach to the job market, reports on the job market(s) for history PhDs collectively called ‘Where Historians Work,’ and a mentorship program, Career Contacts, which could connect you with professional historians in various workplaces. There is a very active community of historians on Twitter; search for #twitterstorians. For historians who identify as female, Women Also Know History is a newer site which collates #herstorian bios and publications to make it easier for journalists to contact them for expert opinions. ImaginePhD provides career development tools and exercises for graduate students, but could probably be applied to undergrads as well. The Gilder Lehrman Institute is one of the premier nonprofits which develops and promotes historical training for secondary school teachers and classroom resources (U.S. history only). Job listings are available via the AHA, the National Council on Public History, and the IHE, as well as the usual job sites. And there’s an awful lot more out there, of course - anyone who reads or reblogs this post is welcome to add field-specific or resource-specific info.

I hope this helps, Anon, or at least provides you with a way to argue in favor of it to your parents if it comes to that. Chin up!

#replies #anon #history #academia #education #career diversity #grad school #Caz rambles

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thebrewstorian · 4 years ago

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“Maybe you’ve heard of her husband? Finding Louisa Weinhard.” The Zoom 2020 PCB-AHA presentation.

Last week I was supposed to give a presentation for the Pacific Coast Branch of the American Historical Association conference. That didn't work out... For the COVID-19 reasons. But we did make it work a week later on Zoom and it was terrific!

My talk focused on Louisa Weinhard. Here’s what I said.

I started OHBA in 2013, the first of its kind in the country. 2013 is also when I met Peter Kopp [see photo above left bottom - Kopp is the author of Hoptopia: A World of Agriculture and Beer in Oregon's Willamette Valley] and we’re old hats at presenting together. Though usually we are in the same room. This talk, “Maybe you’ve heard of her husband? Finding Louisa Weinhard,” is based on an article for the Oregon Historical Quarterly I’m working on revisions for right now. I’m going to talk about women in brewing in Oregon, but first I want to talk about silence.

Archives and records repositories are filled with voices. We visit them to learn about our families, past actions of governments, and the activities of private organizations. But they are also spaces that reflect power and document the dominant narrative. Decisions are made by creators, by archivists, and by researchers about what to include and who to exclude – the result can be distortion, omission, and erasure. And so, for all the voices recorded in an archive, there are also many that have been silenced.

As anyone who has done historical research on women knows, their stories weren’t actually hidden, more often they were simply not recorded. The history of nineteenth century women’s work is often told through the story of husbands and sons. They were categorized as wives and mothers rather than business partners or owners. One issue I always cite when talking about researching women is the complications surrounding names: if their first name was recorded in newspapers (not just “Mrs.”), actually finding a maiden name to track genealogy often feels like luck.

Most (all) brewers in nineteenth century Oregon were men, but as I explored beer history more, I found the stories of early Oregon women and their work in brewing fascinating. In my research I found most women linked to breweries weren’t making beer, but I suspected they played an essential role in the businesses success (for example in running the household, child-minding, doing the books, participating in community events, etc.), and I knew that several ran the brewery for a time after their husband died.

I was preparing for an oral history in 2016 with Dana Garves, owner of BrewLab and former brewing chemist at Ninkasi, and I found a blog post she’d written called “Oregon’s First Women Brewers [1879-1908],” which included names and locations. I have since found photos of three of these women: Left to right is Fredericka Wetterer from Jacksonville, Mary Allen from Monument, and Marie Kienlen from southern Oregon. Garves also wrote about Theresa O’Brien from the north coast and Mary Mehl from the south coast. I added names of own, including Catherine Stahl and Frances Kastner from eastern Oregon; Margaret Beck from Capital Brewing in Salem, and Louisa Kiefer from Albany – she’s also Fredericka Wetterer’s sister.

But is there a way to determine the jobs they did or the role they played? I did a lot of online newspaper searching and onsite research in the places these women lived, and the short answer is no. Variables in terms of family structure, geographic location, brewery size, and available documentation make generalizations and specifics quite difficult.

But Henry Weinhard? His is a pretty familiar name and his business was extremely successful. And I was certain researching his wife would be a snap. An easy win and good practice for future work on the other women I’d identified.

I was wrong.

It turned out records for the Weinhards are scant, mostly limited to newspaper articles and ads, government records, lawsuits, and, for Henry, glowing biographies in “books about great men.”

And so I dug.

This is Louisa, who had that very famous husband. Although she was famous in her own right for generosity, as well as her involvement in local church and aid societies, her legacy is marked by both details and silences.

Not to jump to the end of the story first, but the fact that I have this picture is a true testament to my Googling superpowers. I scoured archival collections, newspapers, and books looking for a picture of her, only to fail. Finally, using a string of search terms I can’t remember, I found a 2015 reference to a portrait in an article about the Portland Community College remodel. Days before I finished the first draft of my article, I emailed their Community Relations manager and she sent me a picture of the portrait. It sat on my desk and I saved it on my phone to show people who I was writing about. We have signed the paperwork to have this transferred to the collections at OSU – I was due to pick it up the week everything closed…

Luise Wagenblast was born in Germany in 1832. She lost her mother when she was four, traveled to Missouri at fifteen, arrived in the Northwest at twenty-three, and married a man who would become famous when she was twenty-seven. By the time she died at aged eighty-five, she’d buried her husband and four of her five children.

Through online genealogy sites and local history sources, I pieced together details about Louisa’s family’s move from Waldrems, Germany, a small town about 300 miles southwest of Berlin, to Missouri to Oregon. Although she travelled to Oregon by ship, her brother Gottlieb journeyed with the 1855 wagon train led by Dr. Wilhelm Keil, founder of Christian communal settlements in Bethel (Missouri) and Aurora (Oregon) – thanks to Peter’s dad James for his work on utopian communities in Oregon because it helped me tease out whether they were part of the colony or not. They weren’t.

Through government records, I learned when she was married to Henry and when her children were born. Census records and newspapers documented the family’s moves back and forth across the Oregon / Washington border. Through the census, I also learned about her neighbors, the ages of her children, and if she had servants living in her home. While dates and names are recorded, what isn’t is the scope of her loss, which feels immense. Her son Christian Henry died in 1863 at two years old and daughter Emma Augusta in 1864 at 18 months. Her daughter Bertha Carolina (Bettie) died in 1882 of acute appendicitis at 13. Henry died in 1904 of kidney disease. Just over a year later, daughter Louise Wagner died of heart disease at thirty-two. Only daughter Anna Wessinger, who lived to 87, survived Louisa.

However, mentions in newspaper articles gave me a significant, and somewhat intimate, glimpse into her life through her community activities. She sent roses to the 1903 Portland Rose Society annual rose show and thirty pounds of sugar to support unemployed men at the Gipsy Smith Tabernacle. She donated $100 to a benefit fund to purchase artificial legs for Marjorie Mahr, an actress who lost both legs in a railway accident. When thirteen-year-old Ervilla Smith arrived at the Weinhard house in the middle of the night in 1905 after being assaulted near the Lewis & Clark Exposition fairgrounds and left on the street by a saloon; the family welcomed her, called the doctor and the police, while “Mrs. Weinhard got her something to eat and made her comfortable for the night.” She was a member of the Portland Women's Union and sent money to the Louise Home for Unmarried Mothers and Albertina Kerr Nursery Home. And during the last weeks of her life, she offered money to a woman whose husband was in prison in California so she could visit him.

I have lots of stories that could expand and fill the rest of my time: things I found out about Louisa’s siblings; brewery owners, saloon keepers, gambling, prostitution, and vice; women’s clubs in Portland; or family real estate acquisitions. But since it’s where I found the most detail, I’m going to tell you about how Louisa used that wealth and her position at the end of her life.

In the years following Henry and Louise’s deaths, it is difficult to determine how involved Louisa was in the brewery and family estate business, perhaps no more than in name as an executrix of the estate. What is clear is that she continued to support her German community. The most significant was her donation of a twenty-acre lot in Southeast Portland, worth $30,000, to build a retirement facility for elderly Germans to spend their final years “among their own people.” The Altenheim was to be the “most important of its kind in the U.S.” Newspapers reported that she wanted residents to take advantage of fresh air, good water, and rich soil; and because she valued work, also wanted “helpful occupations for charges” and imagined the home would be partially self-supporting through farming. On August 6, 1911, with 2,000 people present, the cornerstone was laid, which contained pictures of Henry and Louisa, as well as copies of Portland’s German and other daily newspapers. Louisa’s great-grandson talking later about a picture in the newspaper of Louisa at the May 1912 dedication, in an open carriage with the mayor of Portland, described her as looking like queen Victoria, “very short and very fat.” That’s the picture you see here – a find made possible by the University of Oregon’s Historic Oregon Newspapers site. I learned more about Louisa from the news coverage for the Altenheim than in most previous articles about Henry or the business. Beyond a tone-deaf comment about her appearance, I learned that she valued work, self-sufficiency, and cultural traditions, but also that she was part of a community that felt isolated from the rest of Portland. What we don’t hear are her words – in all the press coverage regarding the Altenheim there isn’t a single quote from Louisa.

The Altenheim was closed in 2003 and the building housed the German American Society offices until the property was sold to Portland Community College in 2010. And that’s where her portrait is waiting for me!

Louisa died in Portland on April 23, 1918 and was buried at the River View Cemetery. She was eighty-five years old, had been in America for seventy-one years and Portland for sixty-three. News of her death was carried in several papers.

W.G. Maclaren, General Superintendent Pacific Coast Rescue and Protective Society, wrote a letter to the editor that was an unfettered tribute to her good works and the hidden nature of her charity. He said that during the hard times of 1907, she bought $100 worth of tickets for the Portland Commons, and distributed them among “men who were out of work and in need of food and lodging.” He went on “She gave me orders that I was not to allow any unfortunate person to go away hungry and agreed to meet the expenses of feeding them.” He continued, “there never was a case of a mother or child in sickness or distress that Mrs. Weinhard knew of where she would not give assistance” and concluded she was a “good woman with one of the best hearts where human suffering was concerned that I have ever known. I believe that the people of Portland should know something of what she did during her long residence in this city for the benefit of Humanity.”

This last sentence feels like a final reminder that she gave freely to charitable causes and individual people, not for personal recognition (and maybe not for our historical record) but for the purpose of bettering others.

In researching Louisa, I found a handful of touchingly personal details that I couldn’t verify. The Weinhards supposedly had a house in Astoria and a farm of 620 acres in Yamhill County. An Oregonian article, written in 1954 when Louise Weinhard Wagner's home was being demolished, noted a 4-foot stained glass window with a woman sipping from a wine glass, said to have been installed by Louisa Weinhard as a gift with the house. The names Henry and Louise/a are handed down to subsequent generations in their family. And Louisa herself was immortalized in Brewery Block Two, a 242-unit high-rise residential building built on the location of the original Weinhard brewery in Portland.

But the last bit of sparkle to this story is a connection I made with one of her descendants on ancestry.com. I found Lizzie Hart, her great+ granddaughter, which had pictures of Louisa’s granddaughter and Lizzie’s grandmother. I wrote her and said “I’m an archivist. I have this picture of your relative and I’ve written this article about her, would you like either?” Fortunately, she wasn’t creeped out by this...

Instead, through our ongoing correspondence she has given me a more personal perspective on the Weinhard family and validated my work in this area. My research has added a dimension both the story of the women in her family and in her own personal understanding of how she fits into it. Her family story was the story of men.

I can’t end with a quote from Louisa, but I can end with one from Lizzie “What you are doing in your work -- the recovery of women's stories, painstaking as it may be to grapple in the dark room of the dominant narrative -- is such an important task to undertake on behalf of our futures.”

***

For more on archival silence, see

Carter, Rodney G.S. 2006. “Of Things Said and Unsaid: Power, Archival Silences, and Power in Silence”. Archivaria 61 (September), 215-33. https://archivaria.ca/index.php/archivaria/article/view/12541.

#louisa weinhard #prepinkboots #beer history #women in beer #Henry Weinhard #portland

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path-of-my-childhood · 6 years ago

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New Reputation: Taylor Swift shares intel on TS7, fan theories, and her next era

By: Alex Suskind for Entertainment Weekly Date: May 9th 2019

Snakes begone. The 29-year-old superstar is back with a new album and a new outlook on life. We go inside the pop monarch's latest chapter.

THE PALM TREES ARRIVED IN FEBRUARY, seven in all, set against a pastel blue backdrop with superimposed stars. It appeared that a new Taylor Swift era was upon us — that the old happy-go-lucky Taylor was not, in fact, dead. Or did it? It was only an Instagram photo, just one more picture in an infinite content scroll. But it also came from a pop star known for prodigious hint-dropping, whose fans turn every piece of info into an online archaeological dig.

As expected, the summery post sent Swifties sifting through each detail with a fine-tooth comb. What did the trees symbolize? An overdue vacation? A recently purchased beach house? A secret palm-frond collection? Or maybe, as many surmised, it was new music. One Twitter user predicted that the number of stars in the background of the photo hinted at a single drop: “There’s about 60/61 [stars]️. There’s 61 days until April 26, FRIDAY, a SINGLE RELEASE day!” Another said it was the unofficial announcement of her next LP: “Okay so in this picture there are 4 palm trees on the left (4 country albums). There are two palm trees on the right (2 pop albums). There is one large palm tree in the middle. This represents her new album.” These may sound like ludicrous conspiracy theories — for the record, they were mostly correct — but they fit firmly within the Taylor Swift Musical Universe (it’s like the Marvel Cinematic Universe but with more guitars and fewer Stan Lee cameos).

“I posted that the day that I finished the seventh album,” says Swift about the photo. “I couldn’t expect [my fans] to know that. I figured they’d figure it out later, but a lot of their theories were actually correct. Those Easter eggs were just trying to establish that tone, which I foreshadowed ages ago in a Spotify vertical video for ‘Delicate’ by painting my nails those [pastel] colors.”

It’s now April, and the 29-year-old pop star is in a Los Angeles photo studio, giving her first sit-down magazine interview in three years. She wants to discuss the art of placing hints inside her work, as well as the upcoming record, which she recorded as soon as she finished the Reputation Tour. She’s also keen on detailing her own obsessions, talking up the TV shows, books, and songs that help shape her outlook on life.

Over the past 13 years, Swift has perfected the pop culture feedback loop: She shares updates about her life and drops hints about new music, which fans then gobble up and re-promote with their own theories, which Swift then re-shares on her Tumblr or incorporates into future clues. It’s like a T-Swift-built Escher staircase of personal memories and moments that tease what’s next. “I’ve trained them to be that way,” she says of her fans’ astute detective work. Swift is a pop culture fanatic herself (see: the jean jacket she’s wearing on the EW cover) and has an innate understanding of the lengths her audience will go to be a part of the original creation. “I love that they like the cryptic hint-dropping. Because as long as they like it, I’ll keep doing it. It’s fun. It feels mischievous and playful.”

Through this approach, Swift has designed the ultimate artistic scavenger hunt — and it’s easy to get swept up in its drama, even if you don’t listen to her music. Her moments aren’t always hidden, either. Sometimes Swift highlights aspects of her world just so fans feel like they’re on the journey with her. Like the time in March 2018 when pop singer Hayley Kiyoko was accused of shading Swift after mentioning her name during an interview. On Tumblr, Swift re-shared a fan’s post, adding commentary that defended Kiyoko, which immediately dispelled any conflicts between the two artists; Swift’s post subsequently received more than 29,000 notes. Four months later, she invited Kiyoko on stage during the Reputation Tour to sing her hit “Curious.” Kiyoko returned the favor when she had Swift join her that December at a benefit on behalf of the LGBTQ organization the Ally Coalition to perform “Delicate.” Fans of both artists were elated by the mutual support.

The feedback loop also extends outside of music. In October 2018, Swift broke her silence about politics by publicly endorsing two candidates for office in her adopted state of Tennessee, while encouraging her followers to register to vote. She kept up the civic momentum through Election Day when she asked fans to post selfies after voting; Swift then eagerly re-promoted her favorites on Instagram stories.

This practice of sharing and re-sharing and sharing again is why listeners consider Swift one of the world’s most accessible pop stars, someone willing to not only interact with her audience but invite them to secret listening sessions, or make the occasional surprise visit to their wedding or prom. It’s a symbiotic relationship, one that, as Swift tells EW, helped her dig out of the darker era of reputation. “It’s definitely the fans that made that tonal shift in the way I was feeling,” she says. “Songwriters need to communicate, and part of communicating correctly is when you put out a message that is understood the way you meant it. reputation was interesting because I’d never before had an album that wasn’t fully understood until it was seen live. When it first came out everyone thought it was just going to be angry; upon listening to the whole thing they realized it’s actually about love and friendship, and finding out what your priorities are.”

Then, during the Reputation Tour, she had an epiphany: that despite the caricature that she thought had been created of her, there were many people who saw what others had simply refused to. “I would look out into the audience and I’d see these amazing, thoughtful, caring, wonderful, empathetic people,” she says. “So often with our takedown culture, talking s— about a celebrity is basically the same as talking s— about the new iPhone. So when I go and I meet fans, I see that they actually see me as a flesh-and-blood human being. That — as contrived as it may sound — changed [me] completely, assigning humanity to my life.”

At tour’s end, she channeled that positive energy into the studio, recording the new album in just under three months. But the fast pace won’t mean a short LP. Swift confirmed that her seventh record (she hasn’t announced a title yet; the working nickname among fans is TS7) will include more songs than any of her previous releases. “I try not to go into making an album with any expectation,” she says. “I started to write so much that I knew immediately it would probably be bigger.”

The project will also feature a mix of old and new collaborators (on the candy-coated lead single “ME!” Swift brought in Panic! At the Disco frontman Brendon Urie and coproducer Joel Little, both of whom she had never worked with), but she is unsurprisingly coy about doling out much more information, as if doing so would break the carefully honed T-Swiftian feedback loop. “There’s a lot of a lot on this album,” she says. “I’m trying to convey an emotional spectrum. I definitely don’t wanna have too much of one thing…. You get some joyful songs and you get the bops, as they say.” There’s also, she adds, some “really, really, really, really sad songs,” but “not enough to where you need to worry about me.”

She gives us one more clue: The true distinction between TS7 and reputation is in the delivery. “This time around I feel more comfortable being brave enough to be vulnerable, because my fans are brave enough to be vulnerable with me. Once people delve into the album, it’ll become pretty clear that that’s more of the fingerprint of this — that it’s much more of a singer-songwriter, personal journey than the last one.”

The past month has seen a deluge of Swift activity, from the release of the new single to dropping more hints in interviews about the record and its title, which is apparently hidden somewhere inside the “ME!” music video (current fan guesses include Kaleidoscope and Daisy). But if the Easter eggs from the pop star seem like a business-as-usual routine, she says this album does indeed mark a new era of her life, where she’s been better able to prioritize what’s important to her.

“Our priorities can get messed up existing in a society that puts a currency on curating the way people see your life,” she says. “Social media has given people a way to express their art. I use it to connect with fans. But on the downside you feel like there are 3 trillion new invisible hoops that you have to jump through, and you feel like you’ll never be able to jump through them all correctly. I — along with a lot of my friends and fans — am trying to figure out how to navigate living my life and not just curating what I want people to think living my life is. I’m not always able to maintain a balance, and I think that’s important for everyone to know about. We’re always learning, and that’s something that I also had to learn — that I’ve got to be brave enough to learn. Learning in public is so humiliating sometimes… Do I feel more balanced in my life than I ever have before? Um, probably yeah. But is that permanent? No. And I think being okay with that has put me in a bit of a better position.” Strong words to live by, to quote, to re-share, to tweet back to her, and see if she’ll respond.

You can read the original article HERE.

#the whole thing =)#taylor swift #interview #entertainment weekly #by taylor

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yousayparty · 4 years ago

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The right place, the right time, and the right amount of exclamation marks

The history of Vancouver via Abbotsford British Columbia’s You Say Party is a storied one. Imagine this: trapped in a never ending nightmare of suburban dystopian hell, you form a band. With the simple adjective of having fun, spreading a message, making people dance - you leave the confines of a religiously stifling community. Within a few years you’re playing the world’s top festivals, winning awards, and wooing critics.

But now I find myself piecing foggy bits of memory fragments together with duct tape and hairspray. Like stickers on a dive bar bathroom stall, I know I was there. But why and for how long? I feel like I’m sifting through a shoebox of handbills and press clippings like some True Crime podcaster placing myself at the scene.

I’m not sure where I first heard the name You Say Party! We Say Die! but it caught my eye. It was an era of exuberant band names. !!!, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Shout Out Out Out Out, Hot Hot Heat, Fake Shark- Real Zombie! And my own band GoGoStop! It was also a time when bands out Vancouver’s sleepy conservative suburbs were starting to break out: Witness Protection Program, The Hand, Fun100.

It was exciting. There was a sense of community. Of people just wanting to have fun. Perhaps we were shaking off the anxieties of a post 9/11 world, or shrugging off the self seriousness that was emo and hardcore. We still made mix tapes and zines- scoured Terminal City and The Straight for new bands. There was this new social networking craze called MySpace that had yet to be a ubiquitous omnipresent corporate behemoth that dominated every corner of our lives. We were called Scenesters not Hipsters. Everyone was in an art collective.

Adorned with white belts and one-inch pins; asymmetrical hair cuts and red velvet blazers we set out to prove Vancouver wasn’t No Fun City at now long shuttered venues like the Marine Club, the Pic Pub, and Mesa Luna. I didn’t drink at the time so dancing, and by extension dance punk, had become my saviour- bands like The Rapture, Les Say Fav, Pretty Girls Make Graves to name a few. When Mp3 blogs became a thing, I immediately downloaded The Gap from their 2005 debut Hit The Floor! and loaded it on my 100 song iPod shuffle. I like so many others, became an instant fan.

I moved into what could only be described as a punk rock compound- 3 houses that were owned by a former Christian sect that we dubbed Triple Threat. Members of Bend Sinister, No Dice, Witness Protection Program, and Devon Clifford from You Say Party and Cadeaux (and Whiteloaf) all lived there. He drove an orange 1981 Camaro Berlinetta to match his bright red hair and big personality. We would walk to the greasy spoon Bon’s Off Broadway to get terrible but cheap breakfast and to watch The coffee Sheriff pour undrinkable refills of sludge. It was like living in the movie Withnail and I, but funner. We all wore pins that said Do You Party? on them.

It felt like Vancouver was blowing up and You Say Party was the hand-clapping drum majorette leading the pack. Ladyhawk, Black Mountain, Radio Berlin, New Pornographers, Destroyer, S.T.R.E.E.T.S., The Doers, They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? And The Organ highlighted just how tight-knit and diverse our scene was. Relentless touring and glowing reviews for You Say Party’s sophomore Lose All Time ensured they were head of the class, despite being unable to tour the US due to a previous border snafu.

Lose All Time sat on top of the Earshot charts for what seemed like forever. Famous for their frenetic live shows, and aided by stunning videos, their sophomore effort was a clear progression from Hit The Floor! It still harnessed the visceral rawness of their origins, but hinted at a confidence and maturity that was to come. The title of Lose All Time was a reference to the discombobulation of constant touring and it too was a hint of what was to come.

The touring would take its toll. Fuelled by Chinese Red Bull; a well document public dustup between band members at a bar in Germany would throw everything into uncertainty. But it was that turbulence that would set the stage for XXXX and after a restorative tour to China, the stage was set for the penultimate You Say Party record.

Flash forward to 2009 and the city was on edge. Everything was about to change. Vancouver was preparing to host the world amidst the unfolding Great Recession. Anti-Olympic protests ramped up. A gang war raged in the streets and made international headlines, tucked behind Swine Flu hysteria and the ongoing imperialist war on Iraq.

It seemed like all the venues started closing and all our friends were moving to Berlin or Montreal. We starting looking in. Is this the city we want? Was it just growing pains? This kind of introspection is clearly reflected in XXXX. If Lose All Time was a record the band wanted to make, XXXX was a record for the people; a record for the city of Vancouver; a record for 2009.

"I finally feel like a singer, rather than a dancer who loves being in a band" said Becky Ninkovic at the time. It’s a perfect quote. One that succinctly captures the maturity and focus of the record. After a breakdown for Ninkovic, a year of rest and vocal lessons, Exclaim! announced XXXX to be a career resuscitation.

And it was. Going back now and rediscovering the record is such a magical thing. Opening for You Say Party with my band Taxes in 2008, I was impressed with the new material even if was a little jaded (I mean I was almost 30). But now with time and space I can see the songs they were working on were truly timeless. Laura Palmer’s Prom could so easily slot in with the latest 80s synthwave revival along alongside bands like Lust for Youth, Lower Dens, and Chromatics.

Overall, XXXX sounds like an exhale. A moment of stillness when you know you’ve made something extraordinary. When you know all those moments combined; moments of sheer terror, adrenalin, elation, boredom, and longing- culminate in a piece of art that once you let go of it- you just know in your gut that it’s right. It draws you in, wrestles with a brooding tension, then sends you into a churning whirlwind of tight drums and buzzing synths. It’s a remarkable achievement.

There’s plenty of vintage YSP sass throughout. “She’s Spoken For”, “Make XXXX”, and “Cosmic Wanship Avengers” are all classic synth punk gems, but the it’s in the subdued that the album really grips. “Dark Days”, “There is XXXX (Within My Heart)” and the sprawling Kate Bush like ballad “Heart of Gold” are the hallmark of a band that is comfortable exploring the limits of their genre. While lyrically quite positive, the melodies are daunting. Indeed, as Pitchfork put it, “the slower pace and more sentimental outlook of XXXX gives listeners the necessary space and encouragement to surrender to the band's emotional message”.

And it was a message they would finally return to the US with in 2009. The band was poised for mainstream breakout success. They were long listed for the Polaris and they won a Western Canadian Music Award for Best Rock Album of the year. Much has been written about what would happen next. I don’t want this article to be about the tragic onstage death of drummer and friend Devon Clifford, but it’s inexorably linked to the band’s story.

And I can only really tell it from my point of view. I wasn’t sure I would go to the funeral but a mutual friend told me that Devon would want me to go. Portland Hotel Society, a local housing provider which Devon had thrown the weight of his passion behind, rented a bus to drive out to Abbotsford. I held up pretty well until my friend Al Boyle got up to play. Then some yelled “Spagett”. Then Krista and Becky sang “Cloudbusting” and I lost it.

The band would try to carry on. Krista would leave the band and Bobby Siadat and Robert Andow of the band Gang Violence would fill in for touring. When that didn’t go as planned Al Boyle who had been in the punk band Hard Feelings with Devon would replace Bobby. They officially went on hiatus in 2011 only to reunite a year later with Krista back on keys and a drum machine in place of Devon.

And while the band’s self titled 2016 release would be their moment of closure, the reissue of XXXX is one of celebration. Celebration of what they made with Devon. Celebration of a near perfect moment in time. A capsule of a entire city at it’s peak. The band has changed. The scene has changed. And I’ve changed. But there will always be XXXX within in our hearts.

'Cause every time it rains

You're here in my head

Like the sun coming out

Ooh, I just know that something good is going to happen

And I don't know when

But just saying it could even make it happen

Sean Orr Vancouver, BC January 2020

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We are so excited to reissue a limited run of XXXX on clear vinyl through Paper Bag Records Vintage for Record Store Day on August 29th! Support your local stores & grab this album on vinyl for the first time in 10 years! https://recordstoredaycanada.ca #yousayparty #YSPWSD

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About Sean Orr Sean Orr is a writer, musician, artist, activist, and dishwasher living and working in the unceded Coast Salish territories of Vancouver, B.C. Besides his twice weekly news column in Scout Magazine he writes for Beatroute and has written for Vice Magazine and Montecristo among others in the past. He’s the frontman in the punk band Needs and also has a pickle company called Brine Adams. Twitter | NEEDS | Tea & Two Slices | Flickr

#yousayparty #xxxx #vinyl #reissue #paperbagrecords #yousaypartywesaydie #dancepunk #seanorr

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fortheheavenssake · 5 years ago

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PG MM Anon Interpretation Collection- 8

54.

💜🙏🏻PG INTERPRETATION OF MM ANON..ON ZERO SLEEP🙏🏻💜

💜💜🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻💜💜

MM Anon

This was very tough!! My best on zero sleep!!

skippyv20

MM ANON … “ I just hope they don’t take the children”… the return of the Valkyrie … HOPE springs eternal …another future PR hiatus …… fashion fluff……… “grapple them to your soul with hoops of steal”. …… “separate tables”…decisions, decisions…… “ justice, what bloody justice”……it’s the only solution. 🎼” who are we to disagree “🎼

“ I just hope they don’t take the children”…

I think this is regarding the Asian tour that the D and DOC are going to be undertaking to Asia. Security must be a nightmare and there was previously mention by MM ANON of a family tour, but l truly hope they don’t take them along on this particular tour.From the Express…

Prince William and Kate under armed guard for high risk tour - terror police on alert

FIREARMS OFFICERS will shadow Prince William and Kate on their tour of Pakistan in the autumn because of “a potential flashpoint”.

the return of the Valkyrie

In Norse mythology, a valkyrie is one of a host of female figures who choose those who may die in battle and those who may live. Selecting among half of those who die in battle, the valkyries take their chosen to the afterlife hall of the slain, Valhalla, ruled over by the god Odin. So our girl is in the toughest part of her battle as she returns to the U.K. SS has let loose horrific rumours about numerous royal family members. Boorish, foul, vulgarity, she makes me physically ill! Frankly she doesn’t care who lives or dies metaphorically of course, she intends to inflict as much damage as she can!

HOPE springs eternal

“Hope springs eternal in the human breast; Man never Is, but always To be blest. The soul, uneasy, and confin’d from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come” is a quote by Alexander Pope. We must keep our spirits up, keep on fighting this battle however devious and grotty it gets. We need to keep our royal family in prayer🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 where there is life, there is hope.

another future PR hiatus

PR hiatus where? Future? What are we expecting? Will she refuse to go to SA and hide out?? Interesting, l am very intrigued by this.

fashion fluff

The capsule collection or whatever she calls it with Smart Works are fluff. Cheap quality, foreign made, means lots of $$$££££€€€€ for our girl, and Bumble app is aligned with a Smart works which means these women will get poor quality cheap clothes, then pay to register to find a mate!

“grapple them to your soul with hoops of steal”

MM ANON has used this before from Shakespeare’s Hamlet. The essence meaning is once you’ve tested out your friends and found them trustworthy, hold onto them! Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, l can’t recall who said that. The BRF are united, they are clear on the goal, their eyes are on the prize. With the exception of the issues with PA, a big worry, they are united. The one question l have, MM ANON, you wrote steal, not steel, was that a typo?? Or the financial thievery and merching is being dealt with! Oh please!

“separate tables”

Whose separate tables, will this be PH and mm whilst on the SA tour?? Or are PC and PA dining at separate tables. MM ANON this riddle is hard!!

decisions, decisions

Many decisions and choices are imminent, PA cooperation, the SA and Africa tour. What to do, when to do it. I do think they have enough on her to end this but they are looking at connections and getting all the pieces of this corrupt puzzle. For her what other lies will she leak online or wherever she does what she does.

“ justice, what bloody justice”

Justice in terms of PA being requested to be interviewed by the FBI. PA appears extreme edge, with the incident l wrote about elsewhere. Also, mm, at what point will there be justice. PP must be so angry that HMTQ his beloved, is burdened so at this point. GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

it’s the only solution.

PA submit to an interview, talk with investigators. It has to be done and dealt with.

🎼” who are we to disagree “🎼

Sweet Dreams, Eurythmics, Annie Lennox from Aberdeen😁😁😁😁

Sweet dreams are made of these, some of them want to hurt you etc you know the song. Lots of dreams put on hold, some shattered. It must be devastating for both HMTQ and PP to be dealing with all the issues with mm, now with PA and the big bust-up he had with a top aide requiring PC to step in.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you so much dear PG! We really do appreciate this!😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

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51 notes

Sep 9th, 2019

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55.

💜🙏🏻PG INTERPRETATION OF MM ANON🙏🏻💜

💜💜🙏🏻 THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻💜💜

MM Anon

MM ANON ……an embellished De-generate … a PR mired ……the phantom infant …… an exposure of confinement … Andy-panned-y…… “six of one……”……… “ that dammed elusive pimp…… “sympathy for the Devil “…… and the winner is……not today thank you!!……” pretend it never happened “ …… Charlotte is at Uni

an embellished De-generate

AN embellished DE-generate.

ED has a U.S. talk show. Told slew of lies about meeting visiting feeding amw. Now that may be embellished!

PA , as the Duke of York presented in his dress military uniform at the ceremony marking 75th anniversary of liberation of Bruges. The Duke of York was present in his role as Colonel of the Grenadier Guards and laid a wreath at the Charles II memorial in the Belgian city on Saturday morning.He was a guest of Prince Laurent of Belgium, the brother of King Phillipe, and the pair later inspected a guard of honour in the market square. His public reputation has very much soured with his connections with JE and GM. I hesitate to use the word degenerate but others haven’t. All sorts of negative press culminating yesterday in that hilarious stupid blind item A meets B , Z knows D etc etc garbage. Now who do you suppose spewed that ?Hmmm, who would have a motive??? No need for any crystal balls. The medals are the embellishment.

a PR mired

PR mired, let’s refresh ourselves on what mired means. Mired can be cause to become stuck in mud, lies or slime, cover or spatter with mud or lies or slime, or involve someone or something in a difficult situation. Who has been mired in slime? Who has been filthy like that. You know! Who throwing mud or worse, everything in the media in hopes that something’s sticks to hurt the other side as much as possible!! You know, l hVe no need for names.

the phantom infant

Well this is amw, Darren, Dolly whatever your frame of reference is. This supposed infant has yet to actually clearly be seen, and be seen alive and moving, and PH interacting with it. Phantom….unseen shadow….the shadow knows…remember that old show/radio show? Yes l love old radio shows esp Johnny Dollar, but l digress!

an exposure of confinement

Confinement was the old fashioned word for being in the family way which is the lesser old fashioned way of saying pregnany🤣🤣. OH PLEASE MM ANON!! PLEASE LET HER FAKENANCY BE EXPOSED !!! Pretty please with sugar on top!

Andy-panned-y…

PA is being panned in the media. Numerous negative, critical, accusatory articles. The big one also was the alleged argument with a ‘top aide’ which very nearly came to blows, necessitating PC to intervene. The Palace is trying to downplay the seriousness of it.

“six of one……”

Six of one, half a dozen of the other, basically meaning that one has two options of choices to make are equivalent or indifferent. In either case it’s a bad outcome, usually. So who is this relating to? PA. Cooperating with interviews with the F.B.I. or remaining angry, on edge, uncooperative. At some point, an international subpoena could be issued, involving the international court or the star chamber which MM ANON has referenced several times in previous riddles. I studied up on the star chamber, it goes back to 1486 when the King Charles, l think Charles ll was named head of the COE. Anyhow , it’s fascinating and may become relevant as this court deals with wealthy, political or aristocratic people that the regular courts are hesitant to deal with.

“ that dammed elusive pimp

Where is MA??? No sightings in NYC. Is he in custody??? Is he in witness protection??? WHERE IS HE? I bet he has made a deal and has been singing his lungs out!

“sympathy for the Devil “

This classic song by TRS? Interestingly this song refers to Russian connection, U.S.President Kennedy……?JE referral, as an aside! This is most definitely our girl SS PR in overdrive seeking her to be out for sympathy because the big bad British press are all meanies and are unnecessarily picking on little innocent madam. CANT YOU HEAR MY SARCASM??😜😗😉😗😆. Nope not buying it, no sympathy!

and the winner is

Voila, they love me! They really love me! I am aging myself, remember when Sally Field won the Oscar and she said that? Wellour special one won Tatlers prestigious, coveted, rare Social Climber of the year 🥇 award!😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

not today thank you!!

Prince Andrew’s relationship with JE has caused several public engagements to be cancelled.The Duke of York’s upcoming appointments in Northern Ireland have been called off amid media scrutiny surrounding his links to the disgraced financier. Organizers withdrew invitations to the prince, with one worrying his attendance would ‘change the narrative’ about the event in question. A ceremony at Portrush railway station to mark its £5million upgrade are among the engagements to be cancelled.

” pretend it never happened “

Carry on,,nothing to see here, weekend in NYC was fabulous, besties and even on the jumbo trot as HRH with her shy non-royal wave. Or alternative may be PA pretending the row with the ‘ top aide’ never happened.

Charlotte is at Uni.

Our dear Princess Charlotte is madly truly deeply in love with 🦄 unicorns. She had one on her backpack/rucksack, first day of school. I think she was also seen with a unicorn purse all glittery during the summer.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you so much! Looks great!😊💜💜💜

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17 notes

Sep 10th, 2019

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56. Sept. 11

💜🙏🏻PG INTERPRETATION OF MM ANON🙏🏻💜

💜💜🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻💜💜

ON THIS SOMBER DAY WE REMEMBER🕯

I apologize for the lateness, l had a good friend drive in and spend the day, was very lovely💜🙏🏻☺️

MM Anon

MM ANON …… the hot zone …… “ were all getting older,old thing”…… Together?????……… a caring cabal …… double bluff…… “ such a caring person”…… “gather thee rosebuds”…… like a Biohazard ☣️ …… “ she’s a bloody virus”…… suddenly ‘ last summer …… Sharon Stone Cold…🎼 “ She’s just a Devil woman “🎼 …… “they made their beds” ……… “just read the bloody comments”.… sword of Damocles

The Hot zone

Tv show in America based on the Ebola virus appearing in chimpanzees in a research lab in the suburbs of Washington, D.C., and there is no known cure; a U.S. Army scientist puts her life on the line to head off an outbreak before it spreads to the human population. Unfortunately, in reality West Africa had an outbreak on Ebola that was the largest in history. It started with cases of EVD in the forested rural region of southeastern Guinea, reported by WHO (World Health Organization) in 2014. Soon, cases were discovered in Liberia,Sierra Leone, which border Guinea. It eventually through international travel spread to the U.S. Africa still has many diseases and often travellers are vaccinated or given anti-malarial drugs and sleep under netting to protect from insect born infections.

“ were all getting older,old thing”

PP and HMTQ musing to one another how the world has changed in their lifetimes, what is currently happening. Supporting and upholding one another, the combined have survived numerous wars, deaths, terrorism in many forms, family break-ups, PR nightmares of unimaginable proportions. Yet, they are still standing firm, one with the other. This brings tears to my eyes. GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Together?????

D and DOS going to SA together? It seems by this to be of great question of whether they will both be going, given the number of question marks and given the itinerary. Time will tell what is to come.

a caring cabal

Dare l say this is Skippy’s blog and everyone here! I truly believe it is! God bless you 🐼 for your unwavering faith and devotion to HMTQ and bless all who are here!💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

double bluff

A double bluff is an action or statement that is intended to appear as a bluff but is in fact genuine. Whose double bluffing here? There are many possibilities here. There is the heir and a spare. Is she thinking somehow she will end up Queen if there is enough malicious gossip as been spread a few days ago which l won’t speak of. I personally think this is LG playing games with her, cat and mouse. She is playing so many games with so many people simultaneously, with so many lies, it’s mind boggling and then add substances to the mix! It’s maybe a quadruple bluff of a happy life. If you read her two twitter accounts, the two l know of, life is grand, and simply couldn’t be better. I especially love American English with British terms thrown in, both usually spelled wrong and used in the wrong meaning!!

“ such a caring person”

Our beloved Peoples’ Princess! No one outshone her wonderfully innate caring and the manner in which she expressed it. We see it living on, instilled in both her boys, yes l said boys! They’re our boys, out Wills and our Harry. We will never stop loving them, praying for them wanting them healthy, happy and carrying out their duties and displaying their mother’s caring manner.

“gather thee rosebuds”

It’s so beautiful, l had to share it. There is an old hymn similar line, give me the roses while l live, trying to carry on, useless the flowers that he give, after the soul has gone. I LOVE that hymn🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻.

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

Robert Herrick - 1591-1674

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

Old Time is still a-flying;

And this same flower that smiles today

Tomorrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,

The higher he’s a-getting,

The sooner will his race be run,

And nearer he’s to setting.

That age is best which is the first,

When youth and blood are warmer;

But being spent, the worse, and worst

Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,

And while ye may, go marry;

For having lost but once your prime,

You may forever tarry.

Basically live life well, to it’s fullest, kindness, lovingly, and meaningfully. I don’t need to explain further, l thought in sharing the poem, all would be blessed by it and take to heart it’s meaning.💜🙏🏻💜

like a Biohazard ☣️

Let’s review the definition of a biohazard. A biological hazard, or biohazard, is a biological substance that poses a threat to the health of living organisms, primarily humans. This could include a sample of a microorganism, virus or toxin (from a biological source) that can affect human health and could also be a substance harmful to other animals. The way life has been lived, in terms of extreme sexual behaviours, there are very real possibilities of HIV, HEP(hepatitis/ various types of liver disease). or other STD’s.( sexually transmitted diseases)

“ she’s a bloody virus”

Again PP, infecting anything and everything negatively, jinx at tennis matches. Just pure evil machinations, selfish intentions and from some of the photos the way Catherine is glared at and the children, especially the one photo where Catherine is pregnant, my mind shudders with what possible thoughts might be going through someone’s head.

suddenly ‘ last summer

1959 film of Tennessee Williams’ play, a young woman is traumatized and committed after witnessing her cousin’s violent death on a trip to Europe. Her aunt, wants to hide the events of her son’s death and attempts to bribe young surgeon to perform a lobotomy on the girl. But he vows to find out the truth about what caused her condition before taking any action. By the way a lobotomy is a surgical operation involving incision into the prefrontal lobe of the brain, formerly used to treat mental illness.

Also song, by the Motels, love that song, about being stuck in memories of a summer fling.

Wonder if institutionalization is the route of dealing with a person is the lesser of two evils as per yesterday’s riddle clue??

Sharon Stone Cold

Sharon Stone, that scene from Basic Instinct keg crossing, that photo from the tennis on Saturday with madams sitting position was sooo familiar. Stone cold, hard, no emotion, self-focused on meeting one’s own needs, wishes goals desires etc. Yeah, again, just going to put that there, you’re all smart!! You know!!

🎼 “ She’s just a Devil woman “🎼

She’s a devil woman with evil on her mind by the great Sir Cliff Richard, who by The by has had his own legal troubles which l will not go into. If you desire and are not aware, there is a plethora of information online, not all true! Friday, is Friday the 13th and full moon, to those on the dark side an especially EVIL day. This song, the lyrics is description of a narcissistic evil woman, l will just leave it there for you to think if that sounds like anyone that is in the media. Extra prayers for everyone this friday🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

“they made their beds”

The saying, you made your bed, lie in it. The public is nearing the breaking point with PH and beyond with mm. That’s the attitude, let them rescind their titles, over to America and be celebrities!! No more public £££££££££! PH we ARE WITH YOU! You remain in our prayers! WE ARE VERY MUCH AWARE YOU ARE SERVING HMTQ!

“just read the bloody comments”

Again that word, PP, angry, comments by the millions regarding the conduct of the Sussexes, her by choice, him by assignment. Just utter frustration and anger at this horrendous situation and the entire conglomeration of issues that are going along with it.

Sword of Damocles.

This will require a bit of story telling/ explaining.According to the story, Damocles was pandering to his king, exclaiming to him that he was truly fortunate man of great power and authority, surrounded by magnificence. In response, the king offered to switch places with Damocles for one day so that Damocles could taste that very fortune firsthand. Damocles quickly and eagerly accepted the king’s proposal. Damocles sat down in the king’s throne surrounded by every luxury, but the king, who had made many enemies during his reign, arranged that a huge sword should hang above the throne, held by only by a single hair of a horse’s tail to evoke the sense of what it is like to be king: though having much fortune, always having to watch in fear and anxiety against dangers that might try to overtake him. Damocles finally begged the king that he be allowed to depart because he no longer wanted to be so fortunate, realizing that with great fortune and power comes also great danger. The long and the short of this

is, perhaps madam is slowly becoming “woke” to the fact that her life choices have led her to a very very dangerous intersect, prison, institutionalizations, or worse by her enemies who were formerly her “friends”/backers.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Wow! Fascinating! Very impressive dear MM Anon and dear PG! Thank you!🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

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42 notes

Sep 11th, 2019

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57.

💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG LATE INTERPRETATION ON MM ANON 🙏🏻🙏🏻💜

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

MM ANON … 🎼 “ blackbird singing in dead of night”🎼…… not a problem …… anything and everything …… more porn……there’s not a hole black enough …… redacted ………… me myself and I… … 🎼 you either got or you haven’t …………”🎼………… on your own AGAIN!!!……… give a DOG a bone ……… a Belgrave secret …… not really a secret, whooops!

🎼 “ blackbird singing in dead of night”🎼

This song, from 1968 by The Beatles is not really about a blackbird. The term bird, in England is a slang term for a female. The black African American struggle in the southern United States, was used metaphorically.Along with McCartney’s “Helter Skelter”, “Blackbird” was one of several White Album songs that Charles Manson interpreted as the Beatles’ prophecy of an apocalyptic race war that would lead to him and his “Family”of followers ruling the US on countercultural principles. Manson interpreted the lyrics’ repetition of the word “rise” as a call to black Americans to wage war on their white counterparts, and instructed his followers to commit a series of murders in Los Angeles in August 1969 to trigger such a conflict’.

For our context, there has been an intentional multi-media goal to draw in and play the race card on behalf of madam. We have seen it repeatedly and many people ie “sugars” have been drawn in and are being used to further an agenda. This continues to grow, worldwide and is , l believe one of the most difficult issues that LG and his team have in dealing with madam.

I also am wondering if this draws on DR. Where is she??! The term singing, other than sits obvious meaning, is term term when one is in legal trouble being interviewed and tells about whatever the criminal plan is, who is involved, what has been done, and what is the ultimate goal. Has DR began to sing?? I wonder.

not a problem

Anything and everything Madam, has done anything and everything for fame, power, $$$$$$£££££€€€€. I am 100% certain she is capable of anything. She is narcissistic and thinks only of what benefits her, has no moral compass. I also am 100% certain she has done things that myself for example, as an educated woman, she has done things l have never heard of, in this regard l am referencing sexual context.

more porn

As l just stated, it would not surprise me if more evidence of past vulgarities have arisen. I pray for those in LG team who have to actually view and deal with such content. This has to take a toll on a person.🙏🏻🙏🏻

there’s not a hole black enough

A black hole is a region of space/tike exhibiting an acceleration of gravity so strong that nothing can escape from. The litany of information gathered about madam is so incredibly large, the people she has been involved with, the conduct, is so enormous that using the metaphor of a black hole is to help us to understand the difficulty and enormity of what they have been dealing with. Trying to unwind all the threads, than aligning them so they connect and can be used in legal proceedings.In terms of just making this garbage disappear, it’s not possible, literally meaning the black hole could not contain it and prevent it from escaping out into the ether.

redacted

Redacted, we hAve seen this gem many, many times, especially in high profile cases or agents working undercover. The paperwork submitted in legal proceedings at times are made public. In the U.S., the Freedom of Information Act, often news agencies file in court, to publicly display what the proceedings are about. However, if information is critically sensitive, to national security, to those still working covertly, some information is held back from the public, or the term is called redacted. When you read the information eventually made public, you will see black lines covering some of the information. This can be very frustrating for journalists or those who just want or those who need to know. So, in this context, this is a multi-national situation, different laws, different countries. I think this is telling us, that we should prepare ourselves that we may not be given a lot of information that we want eventually. We need to understand the reasons, as l explained above.

me myself and I

Me and shadow, popped into my head. This is the best description of madam now. NYC was crickets 🦗, no paparazzi, nothing like the baby shower weekend. I thought today was interesting, all the police officers with their motorbikes, no crowds, they were not needed. She looks more and more alone each time we see her, which makes it important that we continue to see her. Quite pathetic attempt by SW in the media today saying how great full she was that madam came to tennis 🎾, but not so great full that madam was invited to the Italian restaurant that SW and her family went after the tennis!

🎼 you either got or you haven’t

This is interesting MM ANON, you clever lady, l ask again was this a typo that the scale was separated from the word havent? Old blue eyes sang this, and the crew he ran with, Dean Martin, oooo remember Peter Lawford, how handsome. But l digressed yet again

This song is all about style , class, elegance. You can wear a quarter of a million dollar wedding dress and look awful. Style, the way one carries oneself, interacts with others, treats people and just generally lives. You cannot buy it!!! Madam does NOT!!! Have it!!

”🎼

Refer above!

on your own AGAIN!!!

Well her big speech was done, an hour of “work” on her first day back from “surrogamegnancy” leave! She has to rush home for FEED TIME😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄! Unbelievable! Yet, with madam, of course it’s believable!!

give a DOG a bone

Obvious meaning, give doggy a bone for a treat! However, our dear MM ANON doing the uppercase. DOG, the obvious meaning to me is Delusions of Grandeur! This we know is madams prime reason for existing. She is the most important person to ever exist, is perfect and everyone loves her, they should, she’s perfection. Got a bit of news for you madam, YOU ARE NONE OF THOSE THINGS!!!!

a Belgrave secret

Sherlock and John discover that a case of blackmail is more than just a threat to topple the monarchy. Sherlock: Season 2, Episode 1.“A Scandal in Belgravia” Love Benedict Cumberbath! Fabulous series!

The episode depicts Sherlock Holmes confrontation with a dominatrix who has compromising photos taken with a female member of the royal family. The photos along with other valuable information which makes a target for various political factions. Belgravia is a district on London adjacent to the grounds of Buckingham Palace.

Not really a secret whooops!

Not really a secret any longer that she really is not a member of the BRF.Rarely have l seen HRH used in the media, now DOS, until today. It’s mostly been mm. Oh l felt sick for that lovely lady who curtsied her, sickening.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you so much dear PG! We are honoured….as sick as you feel…you still think of us all, we love you PG!😊💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Sep 13th, 2019

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58.

💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG INTERPRETATION OF MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

MM Anon

MM ANON … a stream of unconsciousness … “feed the hungry”…… “AND THE CROWD WENT …home”…… “when is she auooooof to Africa”?…… shares drop at M&S. …… 🎼 “ all in all it’s just another”🎼……… “matter of fact, it’s all dark”……… “not Christmas, not bloody ever”!!…… “Little Lottie, a lovable rebel that one”…… “the monarchy is secured”. … “an adventure playground, no your highness’ no! an adventure PARK”

a stream of unconsciousness

The capsule collection was the goddesses contribution to solving all the women’s seeking employment problem if you’re a person in very limited size range, enjoy black clothes, mostly, England is not New York where everyone wears black all the time. A bag that costs more than any item, and if truth be told she was determined to have that bag in the collection because a similar one she herself had donated, was rejected by a woman that she was attempting to ‘style’ for her job interview. Yes folks, that’s how vindictive things are, instead of a reasonably priced non-leather, thought she was vegan, but l digress, handbag not a weekend bag, would have been a much better and certainly more affordable option to purchase. She just has no consciousness , sense of awareness if you will, beyond herself, she really doesn’t. The greatest evidence beyond many things we observe about her, was the ‘speech’ she gave yesterday, in between constantly playing with her hair/wig, so unprofessional and gross, she mentioned herself ALOT, l read 38 times in a five or six minute verbal ramble. This is madness, umpire narcissistic madness!

“feed the hungry”

Well, this could be about charity and assisting or donating time, money or food. This is reference madam’s quick escape from the no crowd show up yesterday, except those invited. Must have been a humiliation but l don’t know if she has that level of self awareness or emotion. But her quick getaway excuse was feeding time. Not my baby, my precious or for goodness sake even little Archie or a pet name as most mums have. Every single thing about this woman is strange, not normal, bizarre and selfish.

“AND THE CROWD WENT …home”

😂😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣MM ANON, you’re so cheeky. Yes the massive, enormous invisible crowd that waited to see madam yesterday, which necessitated a slew of policemen on motorbikes standing by lest the invisible crowd got out of hand. She stayed about and hour and left for”feeding time at the old corral “. If it weren’t so pathetically wasteful, reverse racism, it is actually quite hilarious.

“when is she auooooof to Africa”?

I am laughing because auooooof sounds like a howl when you say it and since it’s not only Friday the 13 th but full moon as well, l think MM ANON is , along with asking a legitimate question, she is giving us a good belly laugh. THANK YOU MM ANON AUOOOOF! 🐺 🐺 🐺 🐺😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

shares drop at M&S.

Marks & Spencer, for those who don’t is a major British multinational retailer that specialises in selling high quality clothing, home products and food products. It is listed on the London Stock Exchange and is a constituent of the FTSE 100 Index. M&S has been in financial difficulties awhile now and is to be demoted from the FTSE 100, Financial Times Stock Exchange for the first time in the latest sign of the declining fortunes of the retailer, which was a founding member of the leading City share index.

🎼 “ all in all it’s just another”🎼

Brick in the wall…..l remember this intensely from Pink Floyd album, The Wall! Grade ten l think, we were so scandalous😂😂😂, the line we don’t need no education we don’t need no thought control, we changed that line to birth control😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂oh we were rebels🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🙃😁. Pink Floyd, by the way ,fantastic album, Dark Side of the Moon, another moon reference MM ANON! 🌕

Each and every time we see madam, it’s another piece of craziness, self aggrandizement, selfishness and all the while looking a mess. Her hair, which could have been in a high ponytail or braid or a hair and for goodness sakes, on a windy, the amount of time she spent fussing her hair was distracting, unprofessional and quite gross. Designer or off the rack, nothing ever fits right. She look exceptionally square shaped yesterday, l do believe SpongeMeg is her stylist! At least for yesterday!! Everything she does, is another brick in the wall of information gathering, and in building legal cases(cases).

“matter of fact, it’s all dark”

MM ANON, you must love Pink Floyd! MM ANON you have done your research to tie in the riddle with the full moon tonight 🌕. Dark side of the moon, lots of existential and scientific talk about this, it’s all dark, no only one side faces earth and the other the sun etc etc. However, we are referencing madam not Pink Floyd now. Everything she does, most of the things she has ever done are dark, selfish, a lot of vile, vulgar things and who knows what else. She present with an aura of “be wary”. Reading or listening to her “speeches” always self-focused. Nothing dude for humanitarian reasons, fauxmanitarian.

“not Christmas, not bloody ever”!

PP raging at the idea this charade will continue and they will have to have madam with them for Christmas

I can only imagine his anger and frustration!!

“Little Lottie, a lovable rebel that one”

This is referencing our beloved Princess Charlotte. Her nickname was Lottie in preschool, l think that is ever so sweet. She definitely has a mind of her own. One of my favourite memories is the day of Prince Louis’ Christening, as they walked out of the Chapel, she told the photographers assembled there for the photos for the press “YOU’RE NOT COMING!” I still chuckle at that. I look so forward to watching her grow up.

“the monarchy is secured”

With D AND D Cornwall, but ESPECIALLY long term the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge who are such sound individuals will be excellent when times comes for William to be King and Catherine Queen. They have a beautiful family, the children are being so well raised as well rounded individuals. The Monarchy is safely secured, God willing, for several generations.

“an adventure playground, no your highness’ no! an adventure PARK”

Catherine and the team did a superb garden for the Chelsea flower show. It was beautiful and lovely watching the Cambridge children playing there. The Duchess of Cambridge surprised guests as she joined Mary Berry, of The Great British Baking Show and her books fame, at the Back to Nature festival at RHS Wisley in Woking on Tuesday morning, September 10, 2019. Kate, 37, returned to work as she opened the new site, which has been inspired by the original design she created with Adam White and Andree Davies for the Chelsea Flower Show in May. The Back to Nature Garden includes features from the original garden at RHS Chelsea, including the hollow log and boulders from the waterfall, as well as the wildflower meadow, hidden burrow and rolling hill from RHS Hampton.

Both Kate and Mary joined children on a ride in a trailer pulled by a tractor through the grounds to the site of a Back to Nature Garden Festival taking place at Wisley until September 15. New elements include a “bouncing forest”, where visitors can jump on trampolines surrounded by trees, two treehouses, linked via a walkway with slides, and a living willow pod. The garden at RHS Wisley will be a permanent feature for children and families to enjoy. The project for Kate has been part of her work on early years and how spending time outdoors can benefit young children. The Duchess even brought along her own children to play in the Back To Nature Garden before its grand opening this summer. The Cambridges released rare footage of Prince George, six, Princess Charlotte, four, and one-year-old Prince Louis helping their mum to collect moss, leaves and twigs to decorate the garden.

The DOC is marvellous, anything she puts herself into , succeeds, what a blessing she is to us all. She and William, have given us so willingly entry into their family life, appropriately. We love them for it because we absolutely love each of their children uniquely!💜💜💜

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Wonderful! I am always in awe of you both! Fantastic! Much appreciated PG, especially when you are feeling poorly! Prayers for you our dear PG! God Bless you!🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Sep 13th, 2019

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quicksilversquared · 5 years ago

Text

Crash and Burn: Chapter 3: From the Ashes

Everyone in Paris had always assumed that if Hawkmoth were to die, it would be mid-battle with the superheroes, or maybe in a jail cell years down the road, after being defeated. No one expected him to die suddenly in a car crash on a sunny afternoon.

Least of all, his son.

links in the reblog

oi staff where’s the page break line

Adrien's day started with a media fuss about the fact that Gabriel Agreste wasn't getting a funeral, just a private burial. Adrien would have ignored it- after all, he had other things to deal with- but one article was suggesting that perhaps Gabriel Agreste had been Hawkmoth and that was why there was no funeral.

Groaning, Adrien rolled his way out of bed and headed downstairs to prepare a media statement saying that the reasoning behind having no funeral was because his father hadn't been a good parent in years, if ever, always putting work before family; that Adrien had been planning on cutting off contact with his father anyway once he was through university and on his own because he didn't need a toxic presence like that in his life; and that despite what the press wanted to believe, the decision to not hold a funeral for his father was entirely based on that. There was no point in him dedicating the time and effort to put together a funeral to celebrate the life of his father when his father had never spared any time for him, and besides, Adrien had exams and the rest of his life to think about.

Either he would come off heartless and cold to the media, or he would make a good chip in his father's reputation. Considering that a number of people already had an inkling about what his father was like- there had been articles commenting about the lack of Gabriel Agreste at Adrien's assorted sporting events before and more than a few reports about how he blew people off and regularly insulted his designers- the claim that father and son hadn't been at all close was hardly coming out of nowhere.

By the time lunch rolled around, new articles had been posted with Adrien's official statement. They all seemed to take the statement at face value, thankfully, and it was a much more relaxed Adrien who slouched down in front of his TV after he finished his lunch. That was one crisis averted, at least for now.

And then Nadia Chamack popped up on the TV screen, announcing that she was going to be interviewing people around the Louvre about their responses to Ladybug and Chat Noir's unwillingness to release Hawkmoth's identity to the police and to the public.

"Oh, not this again," Adrien groaned, muting the TV before pressing his hands to his face. Ladybug had said that it would probably take a bit for the interest to die down, but couldn't they give it a break for even a little while? "I don't really want to listen to a bunch of people talk about how apparently they have the right to screw up my life even more-"

"Kid." Plagg's voice cut Adrien off mid-complaint. When he looked up, his kwami was staring at the TV. "Look."

Adrien looked. Onscreen, Rose and Juleka were talking to Madam Chamack. On a small banner across the bottom of the screen, text read In Favor of Ladybug Keeping Hawkmoth's Secret.

Adrien managed a smile at that. At least there would be a couple people in Madam Chamack's piece that weren't clamoring for the release of Hawkmoth's name. They would be in the minority, surely, but at least they were there. People would have to admit that not everyone in Paris shared the same point of view. It wasn't much, but it was something.

And then the familiar faces kept coming.

Mylène and Ivan made an appearance, apparently out and about in the area for a picnic. Adrien turned the sound on long enough to catch Mylène decrying both the pressure on Ladybug and Chat Noir to change their mind and reporters' attempts to figure it out independently, pointing out that the search would involve harassing people who just suffered a loss in their family no matter how the reporters did it and that was just plain cruel. One dissenter followed them, but they sounded less than certain about their opinion after hearing Mylène's words.

Madam Chamack approached a group of roller skaters next, and Adrien spotted Alix's distinctive spiky pink hair among the skaters as they told the camera that they supported Ladybug and Chat Noir's decision, too. A group of university students told her the same thing, chattering with each other how having the information out could impact the remainder of Hawkmoth's family even though they had been declared innocent, and a flash of familiar teal hair in the back of the group made Adrien do a double-take.

That was Luka among the group. Adrien had thought that his university was on the far side of the city.

The next two passer-byes were strangers, who admitted that they were curious but that they could see everyone else's points about why making Hawkmoth's identity public would be a bad idea. They were followed by Aurore and Mireille- seriously, how were all of these people that Adrien knew just happening to be passing by?- then another dissenting stranger before Jagged Stone, Fang, and Penny all showed up to tell Madam Chamack that they stood by the superheroes' stance, too.

"What on earth," Adrien said, leaning forward with a bit of a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. "Where did Jagged Stone come from? How did he just happen to show up when Madam Chamack was interviewing people? That's so- oh. Of course. Of course she would."

The answer to his question had just appeared on the screen. Madam Chamack had approached Marinette as she headed across the square to join Rose and Juleka in their impromptu picnic, and everything fell into place at once.

Marinette had been talking to a lot of people over the course of the morning and also spending a lot of time tapping at her phone. Adrien had thought at the time that it was a little strange- normally Marinette didn't spend that much time talking to people and she definitely didn't spend that much time on her phone- but he had written it off. As class representative, Marinette was in charge of the end-of-year picnic and could have easily been collecting suggestions for what people wanted to do before exams were on top of them. It was obvious now that that wasn't the case at all. She must have been recruiting people to show up at the Louvre.

As for how Marinette knew about the live interviews in the first place, well- her mom knew Madam Chamack, so Marinette could have overheard when and where they would be taking place. And considering how irritated she had been with Alya earlier with the 'Hawkmoth identity debate', it was just like Marinette to organize as many people as she could to be in the area so that she could control the narrative being presented.

He was being protected by two incredible girls, it seemed. Ladybug stood between Chat Noir and reporters, and Marinette was providing a civilian intervention.

"I like her," Plagg said approvingly, watching as Marinette launched into an impassioned explanation of why she supported Ladybug and Chat Noir's decision, pointing out that Hawkmoth's family had been very brave in going to the superheroes when they could have just hidden the Miraculous and let the akuma attacks come to an unexplained end. "Very clever. Underhanded, maybe, and manipulative, but used for all the right reasons."

On screen, Madam Chamack was looking as though this interview thing wasn't quite going the way that she had planned. She had clearly tried asking Marinette a few follow-up questions and gotten completely flattened by Marinette's thought-out answers, and now she wasn't quite sure what to do.

"So that's the, uh, lycée and university population pretty well covered," Madam Chamack told the camera. "And, uh, a couple adults shared their views as well. Let's approach some of our more seasoned Paris residents! Sir, do you have a moment?"

The camera panned out to show an elderly man lugging a bag of flour across the plaza. He looked irritated at the sight of the camera, muttering something under his breath, but he came over to join Madam Chamack anyway. He seemed oddly familiar, too, and Adrien furrowed his brow, trying to place him. Was he a former akuma, maybe? Perhaps a recent one? For some reason, that didn't seem quite right.

Plagg cackled. "Oh, this one should be good."

"Today's hot news is that Ladybug and Chat Noir refuse to release Hawkmoth's identity to the public now that he has died," Madam Chamack told the man. "The police and the public want to know who Hawkmoth was. What are your thoughts?"

"In my day, people respected the opinion of the experts!" the man said in a half-bellow straight into the microphone that had Adrien scrambling for the remote to turn the volume down. "And Ladybug and Chat Noir are the experts here, because they're the one who know how the Miraculous work and have been the ones fighting all of the akumas." He scowled at the cameras. "All of these petitions and ignoring experts' opinions and acting as though the public's opinion should be the final judgment- that's not how you're supposed to do it!"

The familiar line had Adrien practically choking on his laughter as he finally placed the face with a memory. "Marinette's grandpa! No wonder I remember him! He's a character, that's for sure."

"All this push for scoops and hits and views- that's not how you're supposed to do it!" Roland Dupain continued, slinging his bag of flour over his shoulder so that he could punch his fist into the palm of his opposite hand. Madam Chamack was starting to look like she rather wanted to sink into the pavement. "In my day, we had responsible reporting! News reporters considered the consequences of information going public before smearing it across the headlines! We called this kind of shameless digging and pushing no-good, trashy tabloid reporting!"

Plagg was howling with laughter. "Oh, I love him, too!"

"Ah, thank you," Madam Chamack managed, and Roland Dupain nodded shortly before stomping off back across the plaza. "I think that's all we have time for right now. Uh, there were a lot of interesting and at times unexpected opinions and a lot for Paris to consider. Back to you, Alec!"

Adrien grinned as he shut the TV off, catching sight of a baffled Alec before the screen went dark. "Oh, Marinette is my favorite. I do worry a little bit, though- most of Paris won't notice the theme there, but Alya will, if she watches it. And she might call out the planting people on the scene on the Ladyblog."

Plagg made a face. "That's true, but all it would take is people saying that they were there together for some completely normal reason- like, all of your classmates except skater girl had picnic stuff with them- and Madam Chamack just happened to pick them all to interview because they were easy to approach or something. It's not like they were approaching the reporter lady, she was approaching them. And does Alya know Marinette's grandpa? You only know of him because of when he got akumatized."

"I'll have to ask Marinette." Adrien pushed himself up off of the couch. "But right now, I have homework to do. And I'll get you more cheese."

Plagg cheered, following Adrien at once.

@staff why’d you get rid of page breaks

Marinette looked rather like the cat that got the cream when Adrien entered the classroom. Alya wasn't there yet, so Adrien sat himself down next to Marinette and grinned at her when she looked up. "Someone had a busy lunch hour."

"Shhh. Don't let anyone hear." Marinette leaned closer to him, though, clearly not at all upset. A small smile was playing at the corners of her lips. "So you saw the interviews?"

"And all of the people you planted? Sneaky, sneaky." Adrien snorted at Marinette's preening grin. "But what if Madam Chamack does more interviews or Alya picks up on the fact that most of those people know you?"

Marinette snorted. "What do you take me for, an amateur? I have backup plants, those weren't all of them. I'm actually surprised that as many of them were picked as there were this time around. And I have an ear in the Kidz Plus studio who can give me a heads-up about what's going on there. If they do another round of interviews, I have the plants that weren't interviewed this time ready for the next round. And there are a lot of them who Alya won't recognize- friends of friends and coworkers of people I know and friends of my parents' and their bakery staff. And Alya doesn't know my grandpa. He was the last person that Madam Chamack interviewed, by the way. I don't know think you've met him, either."

Adrien grinned at the memory. "How did you persuade him to come out and do that, by the way? Wasn't he that old-timey akuma that didn't like new stuff?"

The giggle that Marinette let out was absolutely adorable. It was also a little devious. Actually, scratch that, a lot bit devious. "Oh, it wasn't hard. I just had to agree to go bake with him this summer and learn how to make some of our bakery's items the old-fashioned way. He's been dying to get the chance to teach me. It's not that I didn't want to before, but I just haven't had the time during the school year."

Adrien could relate to that. Still, he couldn't resist the urge to tease Marinette, just a little bit. "Should I be concerned about how good you are at this whole deception thing?"

"I only use my powers for good, I promise!" Marinette grinned at him. "Would you like to join me for the baking lessons? I know you've enjoyed watching my dad make stuff."

Adrien perked up immediately. Learning how to do Dupain-Cheng- or, he supposed, just Dupain- baking? Yes, please! "Ooh, yeah, I'd love to!"

Even though most of the interviewees had been planted, it seemed like the general attitude at school was more split now than it had been before. People had heard normal civilians like themselves admitting that their curiosity about Hawkmoth's identity wasn't worth destroying Hawkmoth's family's relationships and job prospects by creating a bias about them, and they were actually starting to listen.

There were still dissenters, though. And it didn't help that the Ladyblog was one of them. Alya had moved on to claiming censorship, which was actually ridiculous and was very much not likely to help her secure a reporter job in the future.

(Adrien had to wonder how many articles on the Ladyblog were going to end up getting edited or deleted entirely as Alya went through her journalism program in university and she realized that they were in bad taste or weren't good examples of reporting. He had noticed that Lila's video and the subsequent article follow-ups had quietly vanished as soon as Lila's lies came to light, and there were a couple earlier articles that had been edited to sound a little more professional and not so fangirl-y. Some of her earlier mistakes could be written off as inexperience and excitement, but the later ones?

Alya should have known better by now.)

It didn't escape Adrien's notice that Marinette was talking about literally anything other than Hawkmoth as they went through their afternoon classes. She told him about her parents' plans for trying to make some new treats for the summer, and about some of the designs that she was working on, and mentioned some of her own plans for summer break. It was surprisingly normal conversation, especially considering that Adrien had kind of expected that she would be fired up from her success with the interviews and eager to talk about the planning that had gone into them, and he had to wonder why.

Was it because Hawkmoth's death was sudden and recent and Mr. Agreste's death had been the same, so she didn't want to inadvertently poke at any sore spots? Did she suspect who Hawkmoth had been? Maybe it was just because she picked up on the fact that he needed something normal right now.

Or maybe it was because of the fight that Marinette had gotten with Alya over Hawkmoth's identity and she was sick of the topic. According to Nino, the two girls still weren't on speaking terms by the end of the school day.

"Alya's actually even more ticked off now, because she thinks that Marinette set up a bunch of those interviews near the Louvre," Nino told him after school, once both Marinette and Alya had gone their separate ways. "And she confronted Mylène and Rose about it, but they said that they just happened to be in the area with their picnic and Marinette got invited last-minute, which is why Alya hadn't been told. Which is still kinda strange- like, how likely is it that they would go to the Louvre for a picnic? And Alix was there, too- but I guess it's possible?"

Adrien tried not to laugh. Marinette's team clearly had their excuses lined up. "I guess. And it's not like it's a bad location."

Nino made a face. "It's crazy busy there, though. I'd much rather just go to a park. And it's also weird- like, I know that Alix was super-curious about Hawkmoth's identity before, and the rest of them were, too. I mean, they weren't so intense about it that they would join the people following Ladybug and Chat Noir around to yell at them about it or anything, but they weren't exactly supporters of Ladybug and Chat Noir not telling Paris until Marinette got to them."

Adrien could only shrug. "Well, Marinette made good points. She's persuasive."

"Oh, not you, too!" Nino exclaimed. "I think that people are exaggerating the potential effects on Hawkmoth's family, if they actually didn't know about him before. It couldn't possibly be that bad."

"See, that right there is why it would be bad," Adrien shot back, pointing at Nino. "People assuming that his family actually did know. Ladybug and Chat Noir said that they didn't, so why don't people trust that?"

"Uh, maybe because Ladybug and Chat Noir are two teenagers, not trained professionals, and people lie?" Nino suggested. "And the police are trained to pick up on lies, so they should be the ones doing the interviewing. Not Ladybug and Chat Noir, who are just trained to fight akumas."

Oh, for... "Didn't Chloe once say something about a little creature giving her her powers as Queen Bee?" Adrien pointed out, remembering one of Chloe's superhero vlogs. It had been super annoying at the time to have her sharing Miraculous secrets with the world, but now? It was positively useful. "Isn't it likely that Ladybug and Chat Noir interviewed Hawkmoth's little creature? Like, if I were in their shoes, that would be the first thing that I would do."

Nino paused, mouth half-open as he struggled to find an argument. After several seconds, he frowned, his mouth closing fully. "...huh. I guess, yeah." He groaned. "There goes the last of Alya's decent justifications for them needing to share Hawkmoth's identity."

Adrien didn't say anything to that. It sounded like Nino was still on Alya's side, even though he didn't have a good reason, and that was frustrating.

"Dunno if I'm going to say that, though," Nino added, running one hand over his hair. "She's already not super-happy about so many of our classmates changing their minds, and I'd like to actually finish the year with a girlfriend, thanks. And I can't deny that I'd really like to know, too."

"Right," Adrien managed, feeling more disappointed than he was willing to let on. He had been hoping that his friends wouldn't be in a fight right now because the timing was obviously less than ideal, but clearly no one was going to budge on their position. Not that he wanted Marinette to budge, because obviously she was right, but Nino and Alya? Couldn't they see that they were wrong?

He didn't know who he was kidding. Alya could be stubborn as a mule. She wasn't going to change her mind.

At least he had Marinette, Adrien thought as Nino bid him good-bye and headed off. Even if Alya got angry at him about the Hawkmoth thing, he wouldn't be the odd one out in the classroom.

@staff let me tag you you cowards

He got a message from Ladybug after school on Friday that she wanted to meet up at midnight. Adrien groaned- that was late- but he couldn't deny that the late time made sense. Despite the fact that Marinette's interview plants were helping change some people's opinions about finding out Hawkmoth's identity- clearly she had ears in more than just the Kids Plus studio, because several of the main TV stations had done the interviews and come up with similar results- he and Ladybug still hadn't been able to go out and about without people bugging them, yelling after them as they ran across the rooftops. The portion of the population that still wasn't agreeing with their decision was very vocal about it. The only way that they could was by going out so late that people wouldn't be able to see them. Still- midnight?

Even though it was nearly summer and days were longer than ever, that seemed late. Maybe she was just being extra-careful because of recent events.

Chat Noir didn't know what to expect when he met up with Ladybug on top of an abandoned warehouse, one that was large enough that no one would be able to see them from the street. Maybe she just wanted to check in on him, but they couldn't exactly spend a lot of time hanging out with it so late. Even though it was the weekend, he couldn't just screw up his sleeping schedule by staying up long past his usual bedtime. He had studying to take into account, and he had his normal activities still to consider.

His stomach dropped when he spotted the nervous look on Ladybug's face as he approached her. In a flash, he started thinking of what that might mean. Had the police or the mayor made some sort of order that they had to comply with? Had Master Fu told her that they had to share Hawkmoth's identity with Paris? Was there something wrong with the Miraculous? Had Nooroo revealed that another household member had been working with Hawkmoth, or maybe he had reconsidered Nathalie's culpability?

"You look like you're about to panic," Ladybug commented, nerves vanishing into a frown as he joined her. "Did something happen?"

Just like that, the rising terror vanished. "I- no? It just- it looked like you had bad news to share, maybe, and I just- I was trying to think of what it might be, and-"

"Oh! Oh, no, nothing bad," Ladybug assured him hastily, reaching out to take his hands. "Just- something I was nervous about. I was talking to Master Fu today, and he suggested that we be less visible for a bit, because we keep getting harassed whenever we go out and people aren't going to forget about Hawkmoth and move on if they're seeing us every day."

Chat Noir's stomach dropped. Out of all of the possibilities that he had thought up, the possibility of losing Ladybug as his support system hadn't been one of them. Of course, they could still transform and talk via their communicators, or meet up late at night so that no one would see them- it would be summer soon, he could stay up then- but it wouldn't be the same. He- he needed Ladybug. She knew everything that he was going through, and could help him more than anyone else could, and, and-

"And I didn't want to have to stop seeing you," Ladybug continued, and suddenly he could breathe again. "I know- I know that you haven't told anyone in your civilian life about everything, and that it's good for you to be able to talk about it if you want to, and you're probably not getting enough hugs, and I would miss you too, obviously, and-"

Chat Noir couldn't help but grin. Ladybug was babbling, which meant that she was nervous about something but not something bad. He knew her well enough by now to know that if it were bad, her words would be punctuated by long silences and nervous lip-biting. "Uh-oh. Here comes the word vomit."

"-it's not fair that- hey! It's not- I'm not-"

Ladybug spluttered as Chat Noir laughed. "You are babbling. I'm not going to bite, my Lady. You can spit it out."

Ladybug let out a huff, her tensed shoulders finally relaxing. "Ugh. Okay. Fine. So anyway, I didn't want you to lose any support or not be able to talk, so I got- I got permission from Tikki and Master Fu to reveal my identity to you so that we can still see each other. I don't want you to feel any pressure to reveal your identity," she added hastily as Chat Noir's jaw fell open. "Like, if you want to come over to my house in a trench coat and sunglasses and a hat to hide your costume, that's fine. But I want you to know where to find me if you want to talk about anything, or just hang out, or- or anything, really."

Chat Noir nodded, swallowing. He hadn't been expecting a reveal tonight, but this- he had been hoping to learn Ladybug's identity for a while now, but he had all but given up hope that it would happen any time soon. "O-okay."

"I'm just a bit nervous about it," Ladybug admitted, giving herself a little shake. "Give me a minute."

"It's just me, my Lady," Chat Noir reminded her, stepping forward to give her a quick hug. "Nothing to be nervous about here."

"I know, it's just- no one besides Master Fu and my kwami knows my identity, and I'm not used to transforming in front of people." Ladybug squared her shoulders, then closed her eyes. "Okay. Tikki, spots off!"

Chat Noir shielded his eyes as a pink flash lit up the rooftop. As soon as it faded, he lowered his arm and then a grin split his face.

"Oh, of course you're Ladybug," Chat Noir chuckled, reached forward to scoop his detransformed partner up into a hug. "Of course you are. Who else could it be? You're perfect."

Marinette's cheeks flushed pink in the moonlight. "I- I'm-"

"I saw you on TV, working to persuade people not to dig about Hawkmoth's identity," Chat Noir told her, burying his face in her hair for a long moment. Of course Marinette was Ladybug. She had been protecting him in and out of the mask, throwing absolutely all of her energy into it and going above and beyond to keep him safe. "And I heard rumor that you were in charge of organizing to have people who support us in the area to get interviewed for TV."

"Lies and slander," Marinette said primly, sticking her nose up in the air. She gave up the charade after a second. "I had help from Pollen and Trixx and Wayzz. They staked out at the main TV stations and let Tikki know if they heard anything about interviews, and then I sent out mass emails to my contacts with the where and when and which station, so people knew what to look for."

Chat Noir grinned. That was his Ladybug, always the planner.

"You know where I live, right?" Marinette asked, snuggling back into his hug. Her arms twined around his waist. "If you want to come at night, you can just come in via the balcony. I can hide a key for you up there. And I could give you my phone number, too, so I can know if you're coming over. Or Plagg could probably look it up, too, on your communicator."

"Right," Chat Noir agreed happily, instead of telling her that he already had her number. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he wanted his secret for just a little bit longer. He hadn't come to their meeting expecting to reveal his identity, and he just wanted a little time for the idea to sink in. "I know where you are. I've visited you before, princess."

"Of course you have. Your kitty nose came sniffing around for treats." Marinette grinned up at him, and how had he not made the connection before? That look was pure Ladybug. "Now you can come 'round for the treats and the company."

"I came for the company before, too!" Chat Noir protested, knowing full well that she was kidding. Marinette knew that he enjoyed her company. "And to be your model, too, on more than one occasion."

Marinette giggled again, squeezing him in a hug, and the two of them ended up sinking down to sit on the rooftop together. Chat Noir pulled Marinette into his lap- after all, his suit protected him from the cold, rough rooftop and she wasn't transformed- and the two of them spent nearly an hour there on the rooftop, talking and just hanging out before finally deciding that they had to go home.

Chat Noir was practically bubbling with happy energy as he headed home, slipping through the window back into his room. Detransforming, he spun around the room before flopping down on his bed. "Ladybug is Marinette!"

"Surprise," Plagg drawled, landing next to him. "No wonder she was willing to get into a fight with Alya over the whole Hawkmoth identity thing."

"Right, because she personally knows me." Adrien rolled over to look at Plagg as a thought hit him. While most of Paris had only found out about Hawkmoth's death several days after Mr. Agreste died, Ladybug- Marinette- had learned about it less than 36 hours later, and knew for a fact that she had found out about it within that timeframe because they had just met up the day before everything happened. "Plagg- she knows that Chat Noir lost his father at the same time as Adrien did. There- there's no way that she doesn't suspect that I'm Chat Noir, is there?"

Plagg snorted. "Yeah, I bet she has her suspicions already. There were too many similarities there for Ladybug to ignore. But I'll also bet that she's been doing her best to ignore them until you decide to reveal yourself, so you can at least feel like you're in control of that information."

Adrien could only grin helplessly, still over the moon about- about everything. Marinette was so thoughtful, and kind, and gorgeous, and of course she was Ladybug. How did he get so lucky?

Even with as late as it was, it took him a while to settle down enough to fall asleep, too caught up in thoughts about Ladybug. Once he finally did drop off, Adrien slept well for the first time since his father's death, dreaming about ladybugs and going on a picnic in the park with Marinette at his side. He woke up late, rolling out of bed with a smile and a leisurely stretch, one goal in mind.

"I think I'm going to go over to Marinette's house today," Adrien told Plagg as he got ready for the day. "I just- how could I possibly stay away?"

Plagg considered him. "Are you going over as Adrien or as Chat Noir?"

Adrien just smiled, checking his reflection in the bathroom mirror before heading out into his room. "I'm both, aren't I?"

"That's not an answer!"

Half an hour later, with breakfast eaten and his school things packed up in his bag so that they could at least pretend to study, Adrien headed out the door with a wave to the Gorilla. He headed through the streets on the familiar route to Marinette's house, going around the park instead of through, avoiding all of the families hanging out and enjoying the sunlight. Lazing in the sun sounded fun, of course, but he had a bit of a different place to relax and enjoy the sun in mind, up on top of a certain bakery with a lovely dark-haired girl by his side. It didn't take long to reach the bakery, and Mrs. Cheng let him in at once. With a fresh croissant in hand, Adrien headed upstairs, excitement replacing the last bits of lingering anxiety with every step.

They were Ladybug and Chat Noir. They had closed one chapter of their life now with Hawkmoth's death, and now they could move forward together. Maybe there would be bumps in their road and times when things got tough, but they could handle anything together.

With a smile on his face, Adrien rounded the last set of stairs and came face-to-face with the door. With one last deep breath, Adrien moved Plagg to his shoulder, raised his hand-

And knocked.

Fin.

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #crash and burn #adrien agreste

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mbavholidayexchange · 5 years ago

Photo

To @whatcanisayimgay, from @dxlilith

Title: So Your Best Friend Is A Spy

Rating: T

Summary: Not Provided

Ao3 Link: N/A

Content

Whitechapel

Sarah lies on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about absolutely nothing. It was pleasant. For the first time in months, she had no homework, no bad guys to fight, not even a babysitting gig. Her summer was free and open to do whatever she pleased and there was no one to stop her.

Knock-Knock

Well, almost no one. Hovering outside her window in an all black leather outfit was her best friend and fellow vampire Erica Jones. Sarah smiles. Erica had told her just that afternoon that she would be in the city and wouldn’t see her until next week. Sarah runs to the window to let her in.

“I’m going to kill him.” Is the first thing that comes out of Erica’s mouth as she throws a large dufflebag onto the floor.

“What did Benny do now?” Sarah eyes the bag, hoping that wasn’t a snack in there.

“Benny? No not him.”

“Rory?”

“No.”

“Ethan?!”

“Sarah, our lives are so much bigger than those three stooges. And it’s Frederick I’m going to kill.”

“Uhhhh…who’s that?”

“Not important. Do you have a overnight bag? What about that PINK one your dad got you for your 15th birthday?”

“Uh, it’s in my closet.”

“We’re going to Italy to retrieve something because Fredrick is useless and now I have to go into the Vatican and steal it back.”

“The Vatican? As in the holy city the pope lives in? Can vampires even step foot in there? Wait why am I going? Why do you…”

“Sarah.” Erica uses her vampiric speed to close the distance between herself and Sarah. She looms over the shorter girl and puts her hands onto either one of her shoulders. “You’re asking a lot of questions we don’t have time for. Let’s pack up, leave your mom a note. We’re catching a red eye in…” Erica pulls out her cellphone from her jacket and checks the time. “Two hours.”

“Two hours!” Sarah pulls back. “Erica you’re going to have to tell me way more if I’m supposed to go across the globe with you in two hours.”

“Fine.” Erica sighs. She heads directly to Sarah’s closet door and opens it. It takes her all of five seconds to find Sarah’s overnight bag and start packing away some articles of clothing. “Do you remember when I told you that I became a recovery agent for the council?”

“No.”

“Well I did.” Pleased with the selection of clothing, Erica leaves the closet and heads for Sarah’s en-suite bathroom. “And I have to recover something from the Vatican and you’re coming with.”

“Why?” Sarah pops her head into the bathroom as Erica dumps her makeup bag into the overnight bag.

“Because when we were six you said you wanted to go where spaghetti comes from.”

“You remember that?” Sarah almost whispers. The very logical part of her brain which had begun to sound a suspicious amount like Ethan, was telling her to not even humor Erica. Wasn’t them being teenage vampires enough of a fictional plot device as is? But the do anything for Erica part of her brain was already in Rome, shopping for cute clothes and flirting with attractive Italian shoe makers.

“Of course I do.”

Italy

“So recovery agent is just another word for spy?”

“No. Spies infiltrate, get disguises, finesse their way into things and stop megalomaniacs from blowing up the world. Recovery agents recover things. In this case, Vlad’s Amulet.”

“And the amulet is special because?”

“It’s not. It’s just one of those, super ancient, super historically significant things that people and vampires will pay millions for.”

“And it belongs to Anastasia?”

“Her family’s organization yeah.”

“Okay but I feel like you lied to me about going to Milan for lattes and authentic Prada wear.”

“What? I would never lie about lattes and fashion, how could you say such a thing?”

“Because we’re currently creeping through an secret tunnel underneath the Pope’s house!” Sarah practically yells but remembers they’re supposed to remain hidden so it all comes out in a rushed whisper.

“I told you, I had to make a quick stop on the way. This is like, the easiest retrieval I’ve ever done.” Erica stops in her tracks and points above her to a small square door and latch. “ Look, we’re already here. Five minutes and I promise you a super cute purse and matching shoes?”

Sarah is skeptical but says nothing as Erica jumps up through the trapdoor. She hears Erica’s footsteps, then a muffled sound. Soon there’s a scuffle and Sarah is about to jump through herself when Erica’s face appears in the opening.

“Got it.” She produces a necklace and dangles it. It was more like a giant red hunk of ruby delicately laced with gold. “Now for some new shoes.”

London

“When you said we were gonna go to see Big Ben, this isn’t really what I imagined.”

“Yeah, it’s a lot smaller than I thought it’d be.”

Sarah sits on the ledge of the highest chamber of The Elizabeth Tower, the clock face just underneath her. As annoyed as she is with Erica ruining their evening, she was absolutely in love with the shoes she’d gotten her so she tries to focus on admiring them.

Erica is holding up the last of the henchmen by his ankle, searching his pockets for the artifact he was supposed to have. The other seven henchmen were knocked out, sprawled across the ground around her.

“I think I’m gonna eat this guy. He has great skin and hair so he has to be full of vitamins.”

“Ugh, I’ll meet you at The Eye. We’re still doing that right? Or is there another…”

“No, this lead was a dead end. I’m all yours, after this brief snack.” Erica’s eyes turn yellow and her fangs grow out.

“Don’t steal anything from him okay?” Sarah warns before jumping off the ledge.

Budapest

“Now this! This was a great idea.” Sarah sighs as she slips into the lavender milk bath until the water is just under her chin. It was meant as a forgive me for dragging you to more than three retrievals present from Erica.

“I told you. We’ll feel as smooth as silk and smell like sweet dreams.” Erica slips into the tub next to Sarah, the water reaching her collarbone. “Then we can go to the festival and watch the fireworks and have a nice night out.”

“And you promise there’s no retrieval?”

“No retrieval. No intel. It’s radio silence for the Council from me.”

“Then what’s that big vase?” Sarah points to the large stone vase sat behind Erica’s head.

“It’s part of the decor Sarah. Jeez, trust issues much.”

“Erica, it’s literally humming and doesn’t match anything in this room.”

The walls are cream with subtle paintings of lavender plants. The tub, faucets, towel bars, all gold plated and there are small white candles lit everywhere. The vase looked like a kindergartener bowl of concrete with squiggles craved into it.

“Okay so I snagged it while you were getting that facial but pick up isn’t until tomorrow.”

Sarah only grumbles and lowers herself under the sweet water and attempts to wash away her annoyance. She would never admit how much fun she was actually having. She settles for splashing Erica in the face.

Russia

“Wait so that was the Vlad the Impaler amulet?”

“Or so says Anastasia. Don’t really care. Long as she provides me with my next upgrade, I’ll bring it to her.”

“Upgrade?”

“Yeah. She has an ability that allows me to learn vampire powers faster.”

“Like what?”

“Like this.” Erica takes Sarah’s hand in hers and with the other, slips it around her waist. She brings the shorter girl towards her and they spin in a circle.

Suddenly Sarah feels dizzy and weightless. Gone are the cobbled streets of Moscow and in their stead are the marble white floors of a grand ballroom. Soft music plays all around them as twinkling candelabras seemingly float along with the notes. Erica is now wearing a black half mask but her yellow eyes shine brightly through. She’s in a glittering dark blue suit with tails and leading Sarah is a slow waltz. Sarah dances along, realizing rather belatedly that she’s in a massive pale grey gown with tiny butterfly accents that tickle her exposed collarbone.

“Erica?”

“It’s a type of glamour.” Erica smiles, her fangs peeking through her dark red lips. “It actually just started to snow.” As if the word snow was the magic one, the ballroom disappears and both girls are in their normal winter wear, just outside a café. It is in fact snowing and Sarah leans into Erica to stay warm.

South Africa

“Most civilized communities of vampires have councils. Anastasia’s just so happens to be a front for an organization that collect and protect vampiric artifacts. And it spans the globe so sometimes, I get several assignments outside of Canada.”

“That didn’t answer my question about sun block.”

“Oh, vampires under the equator do NOT go out before dusk.”

“Even a top recovery agent?”

“Even me.”

“So what do you wanna do while we wait for the sun to go down?”

“This bed is big enough for two.”

“It is.”

“And there’s a do not disturb on the door.”

“Is there?”

“And I may have retrieved the duty free cargo on our way here.” Erica reaches under the bed and pulls out a giant, airport sealed bag filled to the brim with sweets and snacks.

“Gossip Girl or Pretty Little Liars?” Sarah asks, already snuggling into her blankets.

“Grey’s Anatomy.”

New York

The painting measures floor to ceiling and takes up a third of the room. It’s oil on canvas and like the rest of the pieces in the museum, perfectly preserved. The scene is of a battlefield, drenched in blood, blacken sky, a lone figure riding on a black horse with a head impaled on his spear.

“Wait. I thought you already found the amulet.”

“I did.”

“So what’re we doing here?”

“I got some info about there being an even older artifact.”

“And they’re just gonna let you take it?”

“Nope.”

“You’re going to steal it, aren’t you?“

“Already did.” Erica holds up the small figurine. The same figurine that Sarah had been admiring in the Egyptology room three exhibits ago.

“Erica you’re going to get us caught!”

“Am I? Vampires don’t show up on film remember?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Let’s go get some lattes and head to Bryant park.” Erica leans in and takes Sarah’s arm and leads her towards the exit as armed guards and staff run pass them in a panic.

California

“This is the life.” Sarah sighs to herself. She’s wearing 200 spf in a super cute mermaid green two piece under a massive rainbow umbrella. The summer was almost over and while traveling was definitely exciting, traveling with Erica proved to be a little more stressful than she had ever it imagined.

“Sarah, can I ask you something?”

Sarah removes her sunglasses and looks over to her left. Erica wears a blood red monokini, her water soaked hair sticking to her cheeks and neck and the sunlight glistening off every inch of exposed skin. In other words, she was stunning.

“Go ahead.”

“You know I love you, right?”

Sarah sighs again. “Another retrieval?”

“No. I need to know that you know, I love you.”

“I love you too…”

“No, I love you.” In a blink of an eye, Erica is in her personal space. She pulls Sarah up so they’re both sitting up and almost touching noses.

“I…uh….Erica.”

“I know you love me back.” Erica smiles, her fangs flashing. “I can sense your blood whenever we’re together and you’re not mad at me.”

“Umm, I don’t know how I feel about you just dropping this out of the blue.”

“It’s not out of the blue. I’ve been trying to show you how much I love you this entire trip.”

“I mean, I just thought you were dragging me along your missions.”

“That too. But I can’t hold it in anymore. I love you Sarah and I want to be with you forever and sometimes I feel like you care more about Beevis and Butthead than me so I thought if I took you away…”

“I’d realize how much I actually am in love with you?” Sarah smiles.

“Precisely.” Erica smirks. Sarah giggles but notices how intently Erica is still staring at her. She doesn’t need vampire senses to know she’s waiting for an answer and is at the edge of her seat.

Whitechapel

“So that’s where you guys were all summer?”

“You almost sound jealous.” Sarah takes a sip of her french vanilla latte. After two months of running around the globe, she was finally home, catching up with Ethan. They sat across one another in a booth tucked into the corner of their favorite diner.

“Only a little. It’s not like I’ll ever get outta here. Not any time soon anyway.” He takes a sips of his green tea. In lifting his mug, Sarah notices the ring on his pointer finger. It’s a thick silver band with a perfectly round white opal set in the center.

“I didn’t know you did jewelry.”

“Oh? This?” Ethan holds up his hand to give Sarah a better look. “Benny made it. It stops me from having nightmares and allows me to filter my visions, allowing for better control of my powers.”

“That’s really sweet of him.”

“Yeah…um about that.” Ethan fumbles for the words and Sarah is almost certain what he is about to say. “Benny and I are…well, we’re dating.”

“O.M.G! It’s finally official!?”

“Yeah…wait, what do you mean….finally official? Did you think me and Benny were dating before?”

“You guys are practically married so yeah.”

“Sarah.”

Both brunettes turn their heads towards the door. Making her way over to them was Erica. She had an entirely too smug look on her face as her eyes zeroed in on Sarah’s.

“Hey Erica.” Sarah smiles. She stands up, her arms extended for a hug but instead is swept up into Erica’s arms where she is kissed soundly on the mouth. Sarah feels weightless, she does every-time Erica kisses her. She hopes it stays like that for the rest of eternity.

“You guys should probably get a room.” Ethan coughs.

“Jealous?” Ethan turns his head back towards the door where Benny is standing, hand still on the door. “Cause I can totally sweep you off your feet, if that’s what you want.”

Ethan’s face splits into a crooked grin as Benny takes three long strides towards him. Soon he’s standing over him, taking Ethan’s face into his hands and just staring down at him with those dark green eyes that always make Ethan feel like nothing else matters.

“Who are the ones that need the room now?” Erica smirks, Sarah snug against her side.

#mbav #my babysitter's a vampire #mbav holiday exchange #mbavholidayexchange #serica

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laceyraye-blog1 · 5 years ago

Text

Three Reasons You'll Want to Fly With Just a Carry-On Bag

Are you considering flying with only a carry-on bag? If you are, then this is a great article for you because I always, mostly always, now only fly with a carry-on bag. This is a relatively new thing for me though. I used to always fly with a carry-on AND check in a piece of luggage, whether I was flying short haul, long haul, two nights or seven, I would always take a carry-on and check in a piece of luggage, even if it was just a small case.

But then not too long ago I got chatting to a fellow jet setter who was telling me that she had switched to flying with just a carry-on and all the joys of doing so and she suggested that I should give it a whirl too and so I did. And well it's fair to say that I am too converted!

When I travel i'm all about organization and ease, I have this image in my mind that I will strut around the airport and board the plane with the grace and glamour of a Goddess.

My reality? Well, lets say that's an image that I'm still working towards but its true to say that flying with a carry-on has me a little closer to my dreams.

Here are my top three reasons why I think you might consider flying with just a carry-on bag.....

Number One It will save you money! Checking in luggage with most major airlines can really bump up the prices of your flight. Obviously prices vary between major airlines but in general they range

between $15 - $25 per bag per flight. If you are a couple looking to fly a-round trip, you are potentially looking at an extra cost of $100 on your flight which I'm

pretty sure we'll both agree that's $100 we'd rather keep for vacation spends!

Number Two It will save you time! You will save unnecessary wasted time waiting to collect your luggage at the conveyor belt. OK, it's not a great deal of time, or is it? I've wasted a whole hour before waiting for luggage at the conveyor belt and let's be honest it's never a nice experience. Everyone's edging around this small space, watching the luggage move on past, and there's always that one person who stands right in front of you at the wrong time, or you stand yourself next to the family whose children have spent 5 hours on a plane and have no patience to wait around any further and who can blame them. I can definitely think of better ways to spend my time, and anyway do Goddesses wait for their luggage?! So yes, for me its Goodbye conveyor belt and Hello Pina Colada!

Number Three It makes you pack smart and travel light! The key to traveling successfully with just a carry-on bag is to make sure that you take the time to pack smart! What does packing smart mean? Well it means learning the art to minimize and organize! Let's divulge:

Minimize: The key to minimizing is to think in advance about what you are going to wear and how you can utilize each item of clothing that you're packing. I know this is obvious but do you do it? Before your next trip take some time to sit and think about how many days and nights you're going away for and actually plan each outfit for each day and night.

And then look at your outfits and think about how you can wear each item more than once. I know it sounds like a bit of an ordeal but actually it is quite fun to do and you'll be so pleased you did when you've less to pack and then of course less to wash, dry and iron when you get back.

Organize: My most favorite way to organize any travel bag is to pack with packing cubes. If you haven't used them before or even heard of them before then you are in for a treat. Packing cubes are independent bags, generally made of nylon and in the shape of a cube, hence the name. They are a great packing tool that will keep you super organized.

The idea behind packing cubes is that they will keep your clothes compartmentalized so that you can find everything you need easily but they will also help you to maximize every inch of your bag because they will compress your garments creating more space in your case, which is exactly what we are striving for with our carry-ons.

They also make it easy to unpack because you can slip your packing cubes straight from your travel bag and into your drawers and then you can head straight to the pool, beach, mountain, restaurant or conference, whatever waits ahead for you.

I've found that I generally only need 3 packing cubes to fit into a carry-on bag, they come in sets of different sizes so you can determine which is best for you depending on which style of bag you travel with.

Switching from checking in a piece of luggage to just my carry-on was a relatively easy transition for my weekend getaways. It took a little more adjusting when it came to a 7 night break. I was just so used to packing in a certain way, which really translates to packing too much, but with a desire to give it a go and a little focus on packing smart, I'm pretty sure you will learn to love it just as much as I do.

Here's to traveling our beautiful planet with grace and glamour.

Lacey Raye is a keen traveler. She appreciates every opportunity to explore and enjoy. Whether it be for a weekend in a new city or a week long beach break. She currently helps run a website where they sell a wide range of overnight bags. You can visit their site at http://www.MyOvernightBags.com

#overnight bags #weekend bag for women #travel tips

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eidetective · 5 years ago

Text

(wip preview of something based on this.)

“How many confessions so far?”

“Twelve dozen, last I checked,” Crawford said, shifting papers on his desk in that sort of way people do things when they want something to do with their hands but can’t think of anything productive. “None of them had any details. Until this morning. Then they all had details.”

“Freddie Lounds?” Dr. Graham said—hissed, more like it—and didn’t turn away from the wall of photos. He hadn’t since he’d come into the office; Chiyoh had heard stories of him, of that thing he did, whispered like an urban legend among trainees and faculty alike. She wondered what she saw in the eight eerily similar faces of dead girls a scant ten years her junior. She wondered what he would have seen had he been there in Elise Nichols’ bedroom, Crawford at his shoulder and real FBI making cracks about spooking easily.

Crawford nodded. “Some genius in Duluth P.D.—took photos of Elise Nichols’ body with his cell phone, showed it to his friends. This morning it was front page news on Tattlecrime.com.”

“Tasteless,” Graham muttered, as though Freddie Lounds’ mere existence was a personal slight against him. Chiyoh had heard that name as well, plenty. Not a legend but a cautionary tale. An unscrupulous, ambulance-chasing tabloid reporter who spelled trouble for anyone she set her sights on.

“I agree.” She had read a few articles once, and felt they’d made her stupider. Graham glanced at her over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. At once she felt pinned like a moth to cardstock, awkward in her ill-fitting polo, though his eyes, intense behind his glasses, focused slightly off to the side of her face. “—I have trouble with taste.”

“We have that in common,” Graham said, trailing a finger along one of the strings pinned to the corkboard. Then, in a sudden motion, he was sitting at Crawford’s desk, holding out a thermos Chiyoh only just realized was his in offer. “My thoughts aren’t often tasty.”

Chiyoh considered that.

“We have that in common.”

“No effective barriers.” He poured out a cup of what turned out to be very strong coffee, and Chiyoh took it gratefully. The coffee wasn’t very good, a little too watery and slightly burnt. Aunt Murasaki would have considered it unworthy of the word. Chiyoh would have preferred tea, but the taste was an acceptable sacrifice to have the caffeine and a hot cup in her hands. “But we build forts, don’t we? Or what we see colors everything else we know.”

“Are you talking about me or about yourself, Dr. Graham?”

Graham stared down into his own cup of coffee and smiled. He was undoubtedly handsome, but something about the expression didn’t suit him, made him less attractive.

“You tell me. Associations come quickly, don’t they, Fujiwara?”

He pronounced her name well, almost the same as she had when she introduced herself. Not the way Crawford did, too long on the “wa” with a hard R.

“As you say.” She smiled thinly. “We build forts.”

Graham looked up at her and blinked several times. Chiyoh had the peculiar feeling he was looking through her, past her.

“You have to,” he said. His voice had changed, but she couldn’t put her finger on how. “You’d never last in the FBI without them. You walk into a crime scene and it speaks to you with noise and clarity, whispering those associations that are an affront to the values and sense of morality you pride yourself in. But it didn’t start with the Academy, did it? You heard those whispers long before you found your way to the FBI. No amount of forts can protect you from that. On some level you know that, but you’ve been building them for so long you’ve forgotten how to stop.”

Chiyoh put down her cup far more forcefully than she meant to, nearly spilling the coffee. Crawford was staring at Graham like he’d grown a second head; Chiyoh suspected she was looking at him much the same way.

“Who are you meant to be psychoanalyzing?” The words came out in a near whisper, though in the moment she’d thought before she’d spoken, she’d pictured herself shouting. Graham met her eyes properly for the first time at that, naked curiosity on his face, and Chiyoh turned away, looking to Crawford for backup. “Agent Crawford, this is—”

“That wasn’t psychoanalysis,” Graham interrupted. “That was empathy. You didn’t tell her very much about me, did you, Jack?”

“Get back to class, Fujiwara,” Crawford said, grim gaze still fixed firmly on Graham. He didn’t have to tell her twice; at once Chiyoh collected her bag, and though she would never call it such, she fled the room.

———

Chiyoh was woken up before six the following Monday morning by a call on her cell and the nagging beginnings of a migraine.

“Number nine,” Crawford said the moment she picked up, and he gave her the gate number for a seven AM flight. Chiyoh took two Aspirin and emailed her professors her excuses; at least the understanding that they could take their concerns to the head of Behavioral Science if they had an issue with her absences had kept her marks intact.

She knew it must be different before she even got to the airport. There was a certain amount of vindication in knowing she was right, that the pattern would change—he had taken the next girl soon, after all—but there was more to it than that. It had changed too much. It was too soon. Her instincts told her that the killer would have escalated gradually, that he wouldn’t have been able to bear replacing Elise until he felt secure, until he’d assuaged whatever guilt he felt over his failure.

What was waiting for her in the field was more than different. It was surreal.

She stared at the mounted body in mute shock, watching crime scene techs chasing away crows from the dead girl’s pale form, draped elegantly over the trophy stag whose antlers were piercing her mutilated torso in a near-identical pattern to the holes in Elise Nichols’ chest and stomach.

The girl had dark auburn hair, and blue eyes stared fish-like and lifeless from her pale, freckled face.

The scene was appalling in both its beauty and its cruelty. A scene born from nightmares. Chiyoh shivered through her heavy coat.

“Minneapolis PD’s already put out a statement,” Crawford said. “They’re calling him the Minnesota Shrike.”

“The butcher bird,” Chiyoh heard herself say.

“Impales its prey on branches or barbed wire,” Agent Price explained; Chiyoh saw he knew it was for the others’ benefit rather than hers. “Rips their organs right out of their bodies. Keeps them in a little birdy pantry and eats them later.”

Mozu no hayanie. Chiyoh moved closer to look at the horrible incision down the middle of the girl’s chest. Agent Zeller was doing the same, a penlight in his gloved hand.

“She was still alive when he put her here,” he said, hoarsely. “And he took her heart.”

At once she could see it. Prying open the girl’s ribs. A knife under the sternum, blade pointed up. Familiarity with butchering animals, but she knew how to butcher animals too, and that—she’d never do that to an animal.

Zeller must have seen something on her face, because he forced a smile.

“I thought you said you didn’t spook easily.” It would have had more bite to it if he didn’t sound so nauseated.

“Is this what you consider easily, Agent Zeller?” Chiyoh replied, and turned to see Crawford watching her, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m not sure if it’s sloppy or shrewd,” he said.

“He wanted her to be found.” There was no other reason for it. This was so obvious it was almost petulant. “As if he’s mocking her. Or perhaps he’s mocking us.”

Crawford leaned over the body, eyes dark and face drawn.

“Where did all his love go?”

Love. That struck her, then—pieces fitting together all too easily now that what she was witnessing could fill in the blanks. There was no love here, there was—art. Performance. This girl’s killer had had little sympathy for her and certainly had no love. He had taken her heart as if to drive the point home, as if he were standing here telling them as much. She was little more than material to him.

“The man who tucked Elise Nichols into bed couldn’t have done this,” Chiyoh said. “He loves these women. He shows them what he thinks is kindness, and he consumes them so he can keep part of them inside himself after their deaths. This would offend him. He would never have disgraced her like this.”

“You think this is a copycat?” Crawford was incredulous.

“This is indifferent,” Chiyoh insisted. “This girl’s killer didn’t care about her. Her death would have been slow and painful. He didn’t torture her, but he paid no consideration to how much she suffered. He had so little love for her that he cut her heart out of her chest as soon as it stopped beating. Our cannibal is not so unfeeling, and he would never leave a body to the scavengers like this. He’d have no reason to. He took Elise Nichols home to her family, and every other girl has vanished completely. He has somewhere to do his work, somewhere with an antler room.”

Crawford exchanged looks with his fellow agents, but at least seemed curious to hear what she had to say. Chiyoh turned back to the body, looking at the once-pretty face with renewed interest.

“The intended target must be someone close to him. I think it would have to be a daughter or—maybe a sister who fits the same profile. He has a protectiveness toward them, all of them—whoever she is, he’s terrified to lose her.”

“What about the copycat?”

Chiyoh shook her head.

“Perhaps you should ask Dr. Graham,” she said. “Isn’t he supposed to have a knack for the monsters?”

———

She dreamed of a black stag that night, the animal that had borne the burden of the body that had been identified as Cassie Boyle given new life cloaked in the feathers of the crows that had perched upon that scene of horror.

Her dreams were not often so esoteric, but nor were the cases she’d ever studied in a classroom. It still frustrated her to wake in a cold sweat like a child having nightmares, a sharp pain hammering behind her right eyebrow. She needed to be sharp—Crawford wanted her doing some legwork today, investigating the lead from the shred of metal Agent Katz had turned up. It was going to be a long day and she was off to a poor start.

She took a couple Aspirin and as long a shower as she could justify to herself, as though she could wash away the anxiety that clung to her like the dead, glassy eyes of the crow-stag were still watching her.

There was a knock at the door while she was still half-dressed and toweling off her hair. Mood blackening further, she hastily pulled on a cardigan and pajama pants, expecting Crawford ready to chastise her for being unprepared.

Instead she was met with Will Graham, dressed in a sharp gray overcoat for the brisk October morning and carrying a plastic shopping bag and his thermos.

“Good morning,” he said. He wasn’t wearing the thick-framed glasses he was in Crawford’s office, giving her an unobstructed view of his eyes, and he looked entirely too awake for anyone to be before eight in the morning.

“Good morning,” propriety demanded she reply. “Where’s Agent Crawford?”

“Deposed in court.” Dr. Graham still wasn’t meeting her eyes, but the simple absence of the glasses made his face seem much more open to her. “It’s been years since I worked for the FBI, but this isn’t my first rodeo. He asked me to escort you.”

“I see.”

The moment dragged. The chill in the air was thoroughly uncomfortable, underdressed for it with her hair still damp, but Chiyoh knew it would be rude to close the door on him without pretense, and he clearly hadn’t come here just to tell her that. Graham caught on quickly, opened the shopping bag enough that she could see a few Tupperware inside.

“I brought breakfast,” he said. “Would you mind if I came in?”

“A bit,” Chiyoh said, but stepped out of the way to let him inside anyway. “You cook?”

“Here and there.” The contents of the Tupperware turned out to be cornbread pancakes and thick, slightly overcooked breakfast sausages, which Graham doled out onto a couple of plates, pouring out what Chiyoh was surprised to see was green tea from the thermos, as though he had somehow divined what she was thinking the last time they shared a drink. The food was still warm, the tea was hot, and Graham had, vaguely endearingly, brought a few plastic packets of maple syrup that Chiyoh suspected must have been pilfered from a diner. “I used to only cook for my dogs, but I had more free time once I opened my own practice. Picked up the habit.”

He was humanizing himself to her, she recognized that. Offering personal information as an invitation for her to engage with him, ask him about himself. Informing her he has pets to present a more sympathetic personality.

She simply nodded and took a bite of sausage, taken off guard at how delicious it was. It was clearly homemade, which she hadn’t been expecting—juicy, well-seasoned, a bit spicy. Even the slight char didn’t detract from the flavor, though the texture was a bit tougher than she’d have expected. The pancakes, too, turned out to be well-made, if slightly soggy from the time spent steaming in the Tupperware. The sickly-sweet syrup was balanced out by the bitterness of the tea. Mismatched as the flavors were, she found herself enjoying it immensely.

“This is very good,” she said, and Graham, who had been watching her eat with the slightly unsettling intensity Chiyoh had realized was his resting expression, brightened.

“Thank you.” He speared a piece of sausage with his fork. “I would say I owe you an apology for ambushing you, but if I’m apologizing to you constantly it’s going to get tedious. I can’t exactly turn it off.”

“The—ambushing?”

“The observing. I imagine you can’t, either.”

Chiyoh nodded, thoughtful. “I noticed you avoid eye contact.”

“Eyes are distracting,” Graham said, and immediately met Chiyoh’s eyes, holding her gaze, not fleetingly, but with every bit of that intensity. Making a point. “You see too much. You don’t see enough. And it’s hard to focus, thinking—those whites are really white, or he must have hepatitis, or is that a burst vein?”

Chiyoh smiled around a bite of pancake, and she was the one to look away first. To her embarrassment, Graham seemed to find that amusing, but he didn’t press it.

“I would think your patients would consider that rude.”

“Some of them do.” Graham shrugged one shoulder. “Some of them find it comforting that their psychiatrist doesn’t quite think like everybody else, either. Albeit something more in line with Asperger’s and autism than narcissists and antisocials.”

“But you can think like narcissists and antisocials,” Chiyoh said. Graham raised an eyebrow. “There’s quite a bit of talk about you at the Bureau. About—”

“About the specific way I think.”

Chiyoh nodded.

“I can think like anybody. Call it an active imagination.” He took a long sip of his tea. “What about you? Top five percent in your class, a Master’s in criminal justice, Bachelor’s in Psychology…”

“It sounds like you’ve been investigating me.”

“Not at all. But I’m curious.” Graham set down his cup and looked at her frankly. “Jack lost a trainee in the field before. Another young woman, in fact. I’m curious what it is about you that inspired him to take you out of your classroom when the last time he did that, his trainee was—most likely—killed.”

He had a remarkable ability to turn conversations on their head, leaving her feeling defensive and off balance. She tapped her fork against her plate, taking a few seconds to breathe.

“I believe this qualifies as another ambush, Dr. Graham.”

“That’s exactly what I meant about apologies getting tedious.”

“One would be nice.”

Graham leaned back in his chair.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and despite all odds, it actually sounded genuine. Chiyoh sighed, dabbing up the last of the syrup off her plate with one final bite of pancake.

“Perhaps Agent Crawford has more faith in me than you do,” she said.

“I doubt that,” Graham replied. “I doubt that very much.”

Before Chiyoh could process if that was a compliment or an insult, Graham pushed on.

“Jack tells me you think the girl in the field was killed by a copycat,” he said. “The devil is in the details?”

“Exactly so.”

“What gave it away?”

“Everything.” Chiyoh shook her head. “It was a perfect negative. Almost as if it were deliberate—as if he wanted to show me the inverse so I could see the Shrike in its reflection. There couldn’t have been a more perfect crime scene if I had asked for it.”

Graham seemed to consider this as he sipped his tea.

“Different pathology, same design?”

“Perhaps. Did Agent Crawford ask you to profile the copycat?”

“He asked me to profile the Minnesota Shrike,” Graham replied. “To supervise you profiling the Minnesota Shrike. So—yes, he did, insofar as the existence of this copycat is relevant to the profile of our cannibal.”

“And does your role as supervisor allow you to tell me whether you agree with my profile?”

“I do.” Graham nodded. “You have excellent insight. You’ll be an asset to the FBI when you graduate.”

It was franker than Chiyoh was expecting.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

She paused for a moment, watching him sip his tea, looking satisfied with himself at catching her off guard with a simple compliment.

“Have you been reconstructing the copycat’s thinking?”

“Yes,” Graham said; he sounded unconcerned by it. “His and the Shrike’s. The Shrike is an interesting one, there’s no doubt about that, but the copycat—an intelligent psychopath, a sadist, is very hard to catch. There’ll be no traceable motive, no patterns. He may never kill this way again.”

“Hmm.” Chiyoh leaned forward in her seat, seeking Graham’s eyes. “I don’t think the copycat is a sadist.”

Graham raised his eyebrows. “What do you make of him, then? The mutilation, removal of organs? Cannibalism itself is considered by most to be particularly sadistic.”

“I believe he’s killed before, and causing unnecessary suffering isn’t what excites him. He wanted it to be obvious he wasn’t the Minnesota Shrike.” A message. A killer’s methods turned into an unparalleled means of expression. It sounded vaguely paranoid, but everything about the scene had been so targeted. “He may not be a cannibal, either. He’d have no reason; cutting her heart out of her chest painted a clear picture already.”

One corner of Graham’s mouth tugged upward.

“Interesting. I’ll recommend Jack takes your insights into account, Chiyoh.” Graham stood, gathering up the Tupperware and dishes to leave them to soak in the kitchenette’s small sink. “You should get ready. This is going to be a long day.”

Chiyoh blinked. She had expected him to say something—do you mind if I call you Chiyoh, something to that effect. He didn’t; he seemed to take it as a given that they were on acceptable terms for him to address her by her given name now.

And, more peculiarly, she realized that that didn’t bother her.

#drabble.#this is way too long to call a drabble and there's more i'm still working on but #i don't have another tag #mun's writing #it's the wanting that keeps us alive. | will & chiyoh #v: teachings that do not speak of pain have no meaning. | role reversal 2 #guess that has a tag now #i still can't decide if hannibal exists/is the ripper in this universe so the miriam reference is vague #general content warnings for stuff that happens in aperitf

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