#Little Oaks Independent Publishing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

texasobserver · 9 months ago

Text

”Insects All Around Us” by Digital Edital Editor Kit O'Connell, originally published in the January/February 2024 issue of Texas Observer magazine:

Photography and additional reporting by Fall 2023 Reporting Fellow Paula Levihn-Coon.

The prey is already dying when the hunters arrive.

The sky is dark gray, the air thick with the threat of rain. But that hasn’t stopped over a dozen from gathering. They’re mostly, but not exclusively, older folks—frequently retirees with the ability to take a weekday morning off—and they’re armed with Digital SLR cameras and macro lenses.

Valerie Bugh crouches down over the squirming spots on the stone of the shady courtyard entrance to the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center, prodding at the poisoned insects. Bugh, a gray-haired local naturalist, isn’t responsible for the state of these southern yellowjackets (Vespula squamosa), but she’ll take advantage of it for a photo opportunity. Someone on staff at the center discovered their nest and sprayed them just before the bug hunters arrived, and the entire hive is trickling out from their hidden home in a low rock wall. Bugh warns me to keep my distance from the females, who have fatter-looking bodies with stingers compared to the longer, thinner males, which normally only leave the nest for mating purposes. As I take a step back, she fearlessly kneels by their wriggling bodies, picking the males up and focusing her camera on each in turn.

“I’m trying to find one that doesn’t look dead,” she said. Soon, she’d even manage to document the hive’s queen as it haplessly tried to flee the toxins—a rare catch, though a grim beginning for a weekly ritual that largely focuses on the living.

Katherine Daniels and David Cook, volunteers, take insect photos.

Bugh is the author of 10 short fold-out pamphlets with color photos, with titles like Spiders of Texas: A Guide to Common and Notable Species and Unusual Insects of Texas: Caddisflies, Mantides, Lacewings, Walking Sticks, & More. That’s just one of her jobs: She’s also second clarinet in the Austin Opera. She’s modest about these accomplishments when asked—Bugh is too busy searching for bugs to brag about herself.

Every Thursday morning from February through mid-December, Bugh and her team of volunteers in the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center Fauna Project explore a winding path, gradually aiming to cover the entire grounds over the course of a year, in order to inspect more than 650 species of native plants in the gardens and the 50-plus species of oaks in the Texas Arboretum for their occupants.

With this diversity of native plants comes a diversity in insect population too. Allowing for a few pandemic-imposed breaks and schedule changes, Bugh has otherwise been doing this consistently since 2010, during which time she’s identified almost 3,000 species of insect including over 50 bees, 345 flies, and over 500 different beetles. It’s not unusual to find a new species to add to the garden’s known tiny inhabitant list every week.

As Bugh gets moving, other bug hunters follow her in a pack. One by one and in pairs they break off from documenting spiders and beetles found clinging to the brick walls around the entrance and offices of the center. A few volunteer birders are also on-site, but for the most part, they work independently and seem invisible compared to the cheerful, chattering bug hunters. The group also documents signs of larger animals, from mammals to amphibians, but their main focus is on these tiny crawling creatures, since bugs are the most plentiful fauna present both in this garden and worldwide.

Every Thursday from 2010 to the present, Valerie Bugh leads the Fauna Project at the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center in Austin, Texas.

The bug hunters move in a little cluster, calling out when they find something new for Bugh to examine. The salt marsh moth (Estigmene acrea) caterpillars are everywhere.

“If it’s a salt marsh, I don’t want to know about it,” declares Bugh dismissively, though with good humor. Their hairy bodies remind me of an asp, the caterpillar with a nasty sting. But they’re actually harmless to the touch. Bugh is just frustrated because there are too many of them. Unlike other caterpillars, the salt marsh moths will eat almost any plant, building its hairy cocoons all over.

“Every single plant is their host,” Bugh said.

By contrast, the Gulf fritillary (Agraulis vanillae), another caterpillar present in the day’s fauna count, subsists almost entirely on passion flower vines.

Bugh’s disdain for the salt marsh moth doesn’t stop her from plucking one from the greenery and posing for a photo with it. She’s happy to show off and talk about her fauna friends, even the overly common ones. As she moves around, her tone becomes more of a graduate lecture in entomology, no doubt similar to the insect walks she sometimes leads around Austin. Her volunteers are here to hone their skills at macro photography, to learn from a preeminent local expert, and to expand their naturalist knowledge. Many are members of the Texas Master Naturalist program.

Valerie Bugh holds a salt marsh moth caterpillar (Estigmene acrea) in her hand.

But it’s a social occasion as much as anything, and the bug hunters talk among themselves around me, catching up on their lives. Two have just returned from African vacations and are excited to dish about all the great wildlife photos they got there, documenting large predatory wild beasts. But they seem just as eager to capture the living world’s small inhabitants in their lenses, too.

“It’s an insect safari,” said volunteer Katherine Baker, who told me she relished the challenge of macro photography after over a decade of experience in more general nature photography. She’s been helping count the fauna for about four years now, and always feels among kindred spirits here. But they all orbit around Valerie, returning to her for advice or an ID after wandering off.

Every Thursday for 13 years, naturalist and author Valerie Bugh, far left, has led volunteers in counting and photographing animals at the wildflower center.

“Her knowledge surpasses everyone … she’s just amazing,” Baker said of Bugh.

The gray morning clouds are starting to burn off. As it warms up, the butterflies and others will begin to emerge from the foliage where they’re resting during the rainy, humid part of the day.

“Aha, here’s where the bumblebees are,” Bugh declares with delight as some are pointed out to her. “These are workers and look how docile they are, they’re barely moving.”

Even before the sun appears, I become aware of how the plants around us are full of life, more than first appears to the untuned eye. As I start looking at one insect, like the predatory leafhopper assassin bug (Zelus renardii), a leggy, long-bodied, hungry thing with a venomous proboscis, I spot another, smaller bug crawling along the same bit of wild grass. We allow ourselves to forget in our day-to-day lives, but insects are all over, constantly surrounding and outnumbering us.

Valerie Bugh shines a small LED light on an insect.

On the day we visited, the team spotted seven different kinds of grasshoppers, two types of katydids and one cricket. Hunters often spot the American bumblebee, Bombus pensylvanicus, which is thriving in Central Texas even as its numbers dwindle elsewhere. But lately, its Sonoran cousin (Bombus sonorus) has been showing up more and more in the bug counts.

“That doesn’t bode well for desertification,” Bugh told me. “We’ve had a lot of Western species moving in, birds too, which means the habitat is great for them and a little drier than we’re used to for everyone else.”

The naturalist bug hunters are strongly aware of the harm climate change has brought on our region, and there’s a bittersweet feeling to parts of the morning, a subtle sense that someday soon could be the last day one of these fauna appear in a count.

“The ecosystems are moving east, including tornado alley. It’s not great for the people in the way, and not great for us on the edge of deserts. Think of Austin without any trees. I really like trees,” Bugh says wistfully.

But most insects still spark joy when she spots them. As sure as falling leaves, the appearance of the scorpion flies (which are neither scorpions nor flies) represents the start of true Texas autumn, and they were just putting in their first appearances that Thursday in November.

Bugh can identify a great number of creatures on sight, but sometimes enlists help from collaborative internet forums and apps, or even, in one case, a book of Central American insects published in 1900.

Later, when I come home from the center, I pore over her very detailed homepage, which features a searchable spreadsheet of every creature identified by her team since 2010. I email Bugh to ask what changes she’s noticed over time.

“It is very hard to compare the past to the present since it is short term in geological time but very long term for humans,” she writes back. “Who can say what they’ve learned in over a decade? I bet it is a lot.”

#Austin #Texas #wildflowers #native plants #lady bird johnson #bugs #insects #photography #macro photography #wildlife #wildlife photography #fauna #science #entymology

2 notes · View notes

badmusejail · 2 years ago

Text

The Influence of Type Compatibility in Grafting Pokémon Energy into Human Subjects

Samuel Oak.

Abstract

Throughout all of history the idea of assigning humans the very same types that Pokémon themselves possess has been seen as hearsay at worst and pseudoscience at best with little to no actual research on the matter with true supporters of the hypothesis being seen as heretics or mentally unbalanced.

It is true that the hypothesis has little use in modern sciences but a case has arisen in genetic engineering where the hypothesis may not only hold ground but may prove to solve a critical issue when attempting to breach the barrier between what is human and what is Pokémon.

Introduction

Humans have always been fascinated with Pokémon, even long before they lived in harmony. People all across the world have dreamed of claiming the abilities of Pokémon for themselves--for better or for worse; whether it is to help the world, defend themselves and their loved ones, or merely out of greed.

And for just as long, the idea has been written off as impossible; mere fantasies of idle minds; and yet, the superstition persists--people all across the world independently developing legends of these shadowy beings that possess supernatural abilities [1] whether they be called mages, witches, superhuman, ghosts, or even demons.

Humans ascending into the realm of Pokémon (sometimes referred to as “Human Evolution”) has been until recently an aspect strictly of fairytales, with attempts to confront the concept with hard science only arising within the past thirty or so years.

I myself was at the forefront of this research, with my findings published in a previous paper of mine [2], and investigations into the war revealed implications that the Pokémon League of Johto was involved as well [3] and leaked Interpol files reveal that the organization has a special designation for activities of this nature [4].

However, despite the increase in research during this time, no viable subjects were publicly released, and even in my experiments with Mew I deemed the idea unfeasible. At that time, I had thought that Mew’s unique relationship to all of Pokémonkind would give it a unique advantage in being compatible with humanity, but I have come to believe that I was mistaken.

The Typed Human Hypothesis was brought back into the public light recently by the previous Champion Red, who has proven himself to be a devout follower of the ideology [5] and after reviewing previous research and finding a living hybrid (or “splice”) [6], I believe this could be the missing key as to why, in absence of any other differing factors, any experiments attempting to introduce Pokémon energy into a human are inconsistent and unstable.

Research

The purpose of this research is two-fold: First, to provide reasonable proof that the reaction of human subjects to Pokémon energy artificially introduced into their system is not random, and second to make a reasonable claim that the underlying cause of this phenomenon is due to the Typed Human Hypothesis.

Testing was done with a group of thirty volunteers who over the course of several months was exposed to 18 distinctly “typed” sources of energy, carefully extracted from laboratory Pokémon. Each day, the amount of energy within each volunteer was carefully measured and charted for a total of 540 independent experiments with seven readings each.

Consistently, every reading fell into one of four distinct patterns (Figure A) which can be described as Linear Loss, Logarithmic Loss, Exponential Loss, and No Effect.

In addition, patterns were noticed among the individual’s reactions to the different energies as a whole; participants 19 and 23 shared reactions; participants 6, 13, and 14; participants 2 and 7; participants 1, 5, 9, 10, 15, 17, 20, 24, 25, 28, and 30; participants 8, 11, and 16; and participants 21 and 22. The remaining individuals responded uniquely across the board.

Analysis

The fact that each of the 540 experiments fell uniquely into one of four patterns and that 80% of participants shared their reactions with at least one other participant implies a connecting variable outside of sheer randomness.

The relationship between types are already well understood by the Effectiveness Chart; of which, between two pure types, there are four possible interactions: no effect, super effectiveness, normal effectiveness, and lesser effectiveness.

The fact that these patterns can map so cleanly onto what we already know about types is not a proof of the Typed Human Hypothesis but I strongly encourage the community to open their minds to what has historically been a controversial idea.

Results

The original goal was and remains the use of Pokémon genetics in the enhancement of human individuals and through this hypothesis I hope to find a new understanding of why previous experiments have been so inconsistent.

I now believe that the successful grafting of human and Pokemon energy now relies on the compatibility between the two types--although the exact implications require further research. For example, would it be impossible to graft Dragon-type energy onto a human presenting as Fairy-type; or impossible to graft Fairy-type energy onto a human presenting as Dragon-type? Is the human in this situation the “attacking” or “defending” type? Is the greatest compatibility one that is super effective, less effective, or moderately effective?

The experiment was extremely basic and done with a very limited amount of energy to ease discomfort on the volunteers and does not account for dual typed energy. Further research is needed on the reaction of typed individuals in response to larger quantities of energy.

Nonetheless, the results are promising and a new lead on a field of research once thought dead. Further research on the topic will likely be kept private and I strongly encourage any interested individuals to reach out to me personally.

Conclusion

There is strong evidence that an individual’s own Type dictates how they respond to an attempt at artificially introducing Pokémon energy into them.

With further research, we may soon be able to graft specific traits of Pokémon onto humans. For example, Chansey’s genetic ability to heal to ease the pain of ill or injured humans.

The potential is limitless and may very well evolve humanity onto another level--metaphorically or literally.

References

1. Witches, Magic, and Evolution: Humanity’s Secret History by @fluffghostrp 2. The progenitor Mew and the effects of its energy on humans by Samuel Oak 3. Inside Johto’s War “Facilities” by @fangs-and-knives 4. Leaked Confidential INTERPOL File: HETOPP 5. Discussions with Champion Red by @rebornbythunder 6. Fact or fiction, an in-depth analysis of a Human-Pokemon Splice by Samuel Oak

#|| OAK | the scheming scientist.#|| OAK | VERSE | evil.

6 notes · View notes

darklingichor · 1 year ago

Text

On the Banks of Plum Creek, by Laura Ingllas Wilder; Let the Hurricane Roar, by Rose Wilder Lane

I am putting these two together because they are essentially the same story, and also illustrates, at least to me, that Laura wrote pthe Little House books. As you read this ramble. Keep in mind. "Hurricane " was published in 1933, "Plum Creek" in 1937, but Laura wrote "Pioneer Girl" in *1930* and Rose not only helped her edit it, she typed the whole thing up after Laura finished writing it out long hand.

On the Banks of Plum Creek picks up after the Ingallses move away from Kansas. They settle into a dugout house on the banks of Plum Creek near Walnut Grove, Minnesota.

Caroline isn't enthused about living in a dugout, but Charles has big plans. He's going to plant wheat and he's going to build them a house with the profits. The weather is fine and mild and the wheat is coming up beautifully. The perspective price of wheat and the way the crop is looking inspires Charles to get the supplies for the house on credit and start building. All the while, life is happening. Laura learns some valuable lessons when it comes to minding her parents.

The family meets a Swedish couple and their daughter, who live near by, and eventually move into the fine new house Pa has built.

In the background people keep talking about how the weather is grasshopper weather. Laura doesn't know what that means, but it becomes clear soon.

Pa is over the moon about the wheat, and talks about it all the time. This crop will secure the family financially.

And then the grasshoppers come. They fly in in a cloud, dampening the sun. They decend on the area and eat everything. Grass, gardens, cloth, the wheat. After destroying the landscape, they laid their eggs meaning next year's crops were doomed as well. And then they all marched off and flew away.

Although the family does have a good Christmas because the church throws a party with gifts for the community, Pa must walk east to find work.

The next year is also plagued by grasshoppers and Pa has to make the trek east again. While the family is waiting for him, a blizzard hits. He makes it home to his frightened family in fairly good spirits because this cold means no grasshoppers for the next crop.

Laura wrote about this real life locust plague in Pioneer Girl and as horrific as the it sounds in the novel, the reality was even worse. And instead of walking east two years in a row, when the grasshoppers hatched again, Charles actually moved his family, which now included little brother Freddy, to Burr Oak Iowa. They went to partner with some friends, the Steadmans, in running hotel.

They didn't know that this was going to be a dark interlude.

Freddy passed away on the way to Iowa, and the pain for the whole family was such that Laura never wrote about it anywhere else.

In the hotel, Mary and Laura worked after school in the kitchen and dining rooms, and babysitting the Steadman's youngest child on the weekends. It was not the safest place to be either. Then the girls came down with measles. None of the family was paid for any of the work they did in the hotel, and the family quit the hotel, and eventually settled somewhat, but things were not great. Fires, violence and drama in the community. Charles had had enough and the family left to head back to Walnut Grove - in the dead of night to avoid debt collection. The best thing to come out of Burr Oak seemed to be the birth of the last Ingalls sister, Grace.

Let The Hurricane Roar was written by Rose and features a young couple, Charles and Caroline, newly married who head west after Charles 's father gives them enough money to make a claim. They live in a dugout, have a little boy, make friends with a Swedish couple living near by, and grow wheat that is destroyed by grasshoppers. Charles must leave to find work and Caroline spends a day in town trying to find work before deciding that it is better to be independent in her dugout with the baby. There is a blizzard that Charles must fight through to get home.

Slong with the basic story, there are several beats that are pretty much lifted right out of Pioneer Girl, including a line about a man who kept bees that left the area after the grasshoppers, saying that he refused to live in a place where even a bee can't make a living.

The writing in Hurricane is much different from any of the LH novels, and even in PG

The Hurricane tells the reader a lot, and doesn't show much until about halfway through. Description is sparse. It's trying to make a point from the get go. Hardship makes for a better life in the end, independence, even to the point of isolation is preferable to being dependent on anyone. Neighbors are nice, but something of a burden in good times and cannot be relied upon in bad times.

This is in direct contrast to Laura's writing which depends on description, and spends little time in exposition, shows more than tells. The characters are much different ad well, people value independence, yes, but are generally community minded founding churches, serving on school boards, helping neighbors.

There is the fact that she took elements of her grandparents and elements of her parents and mixed them together to make the story.

Charles in Hurricane gets money from his father to go out west. This is basically what happened when Almanzo decided to head west. He and Caroline end up on Wild Plum Creek in the Dakota Territory. Almanzo and Laura spent the early years of their marriage in De Smet South Dakota.

In essence, Rose took her parents and grandparents' stories, made a tale to appeal to her Libertarian ideals, and by many accounts, really pissed her mother off (which I'll get to later).

Hurricane isn't bad, it's compelling in its way, and effective for what it was trying to be, and I liked how it ended. However, it also serves as evidence that while the two Wilder women worked together and Rose was a brilliant editor, Laura wrote the classic novels.

#Laura Ingllas Wilder #book #books #book blogging 2023 #On the Banks of Plum Creek #Let the Hurricane Roar #Rose Wilder Lane

0 notes

biglisbonnews · 2 years ago

Photo

Inspired by the Industrial Age, Giant Gears Conduct ‘Rolling Bridge’ Along an East London Channel Cody Dock, a Victorian-era industrial site along the River Lea in east London, is in the midst of a monumental facelift as part of a masterplan to transform the space into a creative hub. A new bridge by architect Thomas Randall-Page connects pedestrians across a recently re-flooded channel, but this is no 19th-century relic. Nodding to its industrial surroundings through the use of weathered steel and bent oak, “Cody Dock Rolling Bridge” has the distinction of being the first of its kind to roll on its axis to make room for passing boats. More Do stories and artists like this matter to you? Become a Colossal Member today and support independent arts publishing for as little as $5 per month. The article Inspired by the Industrial Age, Giant Gears Conduct ‘Rolling Bridge’ Along an East London Channel appeared first on Colossal. https://www.thisiscolossal.com/2023/02/cody-dock-rolling-bridge/

#Design #architecture #bridges #London #Thomas Randall-Page #urban planning #Kate Mothes #Colossal

0 notes

regard-luxury · 2 years ago

Text

The Most Effective Prices On Cigars In Canada

Cigars may be paused and relit afterward, no problem, but it’s instructed you accomplish that within about two hours as they are also considerably perishable. Many instruments create fireplace, however the goal here is a fair flame that won’t torch the cigar nor have an result on its inherent flavors. A torch lighter is the most effective lighter for the task, and an unlimited enchancment over a matchbook or conventional lighter. Thin and lengthy, the Panetela provides a pronounced air of refinement.

The top-tier smokes of the main cigar-producing nations are all excellent in their very own means. They are true agricultural and artisanal expressions of their respective countries. This is obvious cigars in our tasting sections and in our Top 25 Cigar of the Year awards. Sometimes a Cuban cigar wins, typically it doesn’t, as in our most up-to-date Top 25, which was won by a Dominican cigar.

At every stage of the examine screening, two reviewers independently reviewed the research and made choices for inclusion . Final choices had been made after dialogue and consensus was reached on discrepant results. All selected research have been screened by title and summary, and the total texts of the subset of relevant papers were then reviewed. If a cigar has a characterizing taste , however its labeling or promoting represents that it does not, then the product may be, amongst other things, misbranded under part 903 of the FD&C Act because its labeling or promoting is fake or misleading. Similarly, if a cigar does not have a characterizing taste, but its labeling or advertising represents that it does, then the product may be misbranded underneath part 903 of the FD&C Act as a result of its labeling or promoting is fake or deceptive. Throughout this doc, FDA uses the time period “LGBTQ+” broadly when referring to lesbian, homosexual, bisexual, transgender, and queer communities.

Charter Oak CT Shade This combination of tobacco offers the smoker amild to medium bodied smoke. Charter Oak Habano The cigar is medium-bodied with notes of spice; an incredible taste at a great value. Few sufferers have spontaneous remission and the affected cigars person ought to be inspired to stop the causative habit. Chewing tobacco, generally mixed with betel nuts can also be implicated.

Some of the issues raised within the feedback to the ANPRM are highlighted under. They weigh less than cigars and cigarillos, but, extra importantly, they resemble cigarettes in dimension, form, packaging, and filters. Sales of little cigars quadrupled within the US from 1971 to 1973 in response to the Public Health Cigarette Smoking Act, which banned the published of cigarette commercials and required stronger well being warnings on cigarette packs. Cigars had been exempt from the ban, and perhaps extra importantly, had been taxed at a far decrease rate. Little cigars are sometimes referred to as "cigarettes in disguise", and unsuccessful attempts have been made to reclassify them as cigarettes.

Until the ACFR grants it official status, the XML rendition of the day by day Federal Register on FederalRegister.gov does not provide legal notice to the common public or judicial notice to the courts. The Dominican Republic’s premier cigar shop and one of the best place to purchase boxes on-line. Holding an unlit cigar between your lips exposes the mouth, throat and esophagus to cancer-causing chemicals cigars and other toxins. Individuals with disabilities are encouraged to direct ideas, comments, or complaints concerning any accessibility points with Rutgers websites to or full the Report Accessibility Barrier / Provide Feedback form. 11 Ways Smoking Affects Your Looks Surprising impacts of tobacco on the body. Smokers are twice as prone to have erectile dysfunction as nonsmokers.

Discover premium cigars with two distinct blends hand-selected by Julian Van Winkle made solely for Pappy & Company. Our firm headquarters are in Balerna, Switzerland, and everyone seems to be welcome to return and go to our workplaces and humidors. We can ship any of our merchandise to any location around the world in a well timed method.

0 notes

shreddedparchment · 4 years ago

Text

A Wife for Thor Pt.02

10/19/2020

No Lies in a Marriage

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 5,150

Warnings: angst, anxiety, panic attack, language

A/N: As I said in the post earlier today, you’ll probably see updates for this story often right now because it’s at the beginning and I know where I’m going pretty clearly and how to get there and it’s kinda just writing itself for right now. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I love writing this reader with Thor...but I think it’s just because I love writing Thor. haha If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

You sit up most of the night after talking to David, staring out your bedroom window at the small plot of land you call your own.

Your belonging. The only true one you’ve ever had.

It’s a small inheritance, sure but it’s yours. Yours alone. A sanctuary from the feeling of emptiness that you’d once felt wishing for something that felt like home. It’s more than even some will ever have.

You’re lucky.

And now you have to leave it behind?

There’s no denying your own part in this mess. You’d been given a choice and you’d made it, believe this outcome would never come. Yet here you are, betrothed and fated to be Queen of Asgard.

David comes to help you pack because he knows that you’ll be wallowing.

In shock you pack just as asked, essentials only which means for you, only your clothing, your laptop, and a very small collection of books are chosen.

You have no pictures to take with you. No family heirlooms or sentimental possessions. You fit it all into one large suitcase.

Funny. As you pack, you can’t help but imagine the lives your nomadic ancestors had lived. Much like you in these moments as you pack what little you have of your life away; they must have left everything behind over and over in their search for their own belonging.

It only takes you two hours to pack once David arrives and together you lug the suitcase down your little hallway to the front door.

There, a beautiful Asgardian stands waiting, her eyes on your own foggy expression with slight concern as David joins her and they lapse into quiet conversation as you continue to space out, thinking about the life you’re leaving behind.

Really, if you’re honest, it isn’t much of a life.

Yes, you have your routine. This is your house. Your things. But aside from that, there’s nothing here. Nothing but independence and solitude.

That’s enough, some would say. Others would wonder what you do with all your time.

Why hadn’t you found someone to share this life with? Someone who could appreciate the coziness of this place with you.

“Are you ready?” The Asgardian asks, Brunnhilde, her voice smooth but stern, yet not unkind.

You turn to look at her, hair gathered up on her head in a large bun. She’s dressed for the Norwegian weather she’s come from despite it being significantly hotter here.

She’s not bothered by it. Or if she is, she hides it well.

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“No.” She smiles at you, cheek bones so rounded and pretty you almost want to stroke them because you’ve rarely seen anyone so beautiful.

All of the Asgardians are beyond compare when it comes to looks. Even those that are plain radiate a golden aura. Godlike. Thor’s is the strongest and he’s most certainly the most beautiful to look at.

You’d been too afraid to admit it to yourself before because you’d been so decided against marrying him, but Thor is by far the loveliest man you’ve ever seen. Ideal. He’s exquisite.

And you get to marry him. Which doesn’t exactly feel like a bad thing.

Being chosen to marry Thor would be amazing, given the fantasies you’ve allowed yourself to indulge in since the day you met with him, if not for the fact that you know he’s in love with someone else. Someone who won’t marry him. Someone stupid, obviously.

And those fantasies you’d indulged in would never happen with someone else in his heart. So without that, all you have left is duty. Duty to Earth and its people, ensuring their safety and though you honestly don’t think Earth needs it, the assurance from the Asgardians that they will respect humans as the dominant lifeform on the planet.

Yes, the whole Queen of Asgard thing is a little daunting and will probably take over your life, so you can’t blame this mystery woman for not wanting to give up her own pursuits to take care of an entire people. To give up one identity for another? Yours is close enough to blank—your life nearly empty—that for you, this might not be such a great loss and yet, this leaves you wondering what this will do for you career.

Small as it is, you’ve had two books published. Limited releases with not much traction. Still, the accomplishment is your own. One you’re proud of.

Will you have to stop writing?

“There will be a dinner, to introduce you to Thor’s inner circle. Myself, Loki, a few others that serve directly under him.” Brunnhilde is saying, pulling you back to reality.

You look around, having zoned out so thoroughly that you hadn’t even realized you’d boarded a plane and taken off.

“The only one you’ll have to watch out for is Sif. She’s usually pretty nice, but she’s a little miffed about the whole marriage situation. From what I’ve heard, she’s had a thing for Thor since they were children. She’s a fierce warrior. Might want to avoid her altogether if possible. Asgardian women can be a little territorial.”

Lovely, another rival.

“So can human women.” You grumble, already hating the looks of what you suppose will be an onslaught of distractions for your future husband in the forms of beautiful women.

Brunnhilde quirks a brow, raising it high as she considers your words but doesn’t comment further.

“He’s never seen her as more than a comrade in arms. Or so he says.” She sounds unconvinced, but you recognize her attempt to calm you.

You stare, saying nothing more as your world is overturned.

“After dinner, you’ll spend some time with Thor. He wants to talk to you a bit. The wedding will be on Thursday. Thor’s idea. Full of himself, the idiot.” She’s smiling as she insults him, flipping the page of a magazine she’d grabbed from the pocket of the seat in front of her and you realize they must be close friends.

“Did he really pick me?” You wonder, knowing that her personality will only let her answer one way.

Brutally honest.

“Against all our recommendations.” She tells you. “Most of us were pulling for the Hungarian one. She had the schooling and the training. A little too eager for Thor, or so he said. And Loki. Loki was also in favor of you.”

“Loki?!” You gasp, remembering with great detail your chance meeting with the Asgardian prince.

“Oh yeah.”

Why would Loki want Thor to choose you? You weren’t exactly nice to him. Then again, you weren’t really mean either. Just…blunt.

More importantly, after the awkward conversation with Thor and his admission to marrying despite his feelings for someone else, his choice is the most confusing.

“Why did he pick me?” You plead. “Thor.”

“You’ll have to ask him tonight after dinner. I couldn’t tell you other than that he said he wanted someone real. Someone who knew what it’s like to be a normal person. Whatever that means.” Brunnhilde shrugs. “Normal is all relative. Odin, I need a drink.”

The plane ride is over too quickly and the ride to New Asgard even shorter. The village is large but not much larger than the town you’d grown up in. Plenty of houses and public spaces but nothing like a cityscape.

You’re surprised by the more modest choices they’ve made for their homes. Simple houses with wood siding and strong rooftops.

That is, most of the village is modest. Almost at the center of the largest grouping of buildings is a large multi-storied palace.

Just as it did the first time you saw it when you’d been brought for the meeting, you gasp when you see it, admiring the beauty of the structure bathed in afternoon sunlight.

It reminds you of an old Nordic home you’d seen online only on steroids. Four, maybe five stories? All roofs are tall and sharp, parts covered with moss.

Brunnhilde shows you into the main foyer, large and tall room that allows space large enough for people to stand and chat. Here she leaves you and David with a young Asgardian woman. She looks as if she can’t be more than seventeen but from what you know about Asgardian aging, she’s probably hundreds of years old.

She escorts you both to your new room, and you and David gasp at the sight.

Even though it’s smaller than the sitting room you’d been in when you met with Thor before, there’s a large bed immediately to the right, covered in luxurious plum and silver silk sheets. A large dark brown bear skin rug covers the center of the floor. To the left is an extravagant dark oak armoire, beside it a matching vanity with a low cushioned and backless seat.

On the far wall, between two sets of heavy wooden double doors that lead out to a balcony sits a desk and another seat with a black cushion, the same style as the vanity’s chair.

There’s a low hanging chandelier made of intricately twisted wood, reinforced with dark steel. The design of it makes you think there should be candles, but instead you find it furnished with small flame-shaped lightbulbs.

Along each of the walls are beautiful artworks, one of a singular mountain you’ve never seen on Earth. Another a golden palace with a sky of literal space above and behind it. There’s a smaller painting almost right above the bed and the likeness of it is so precise, you gasp again.

David follows your gaze with his mouth hanging open a little but then he chuckles. It’s a throaty sound as he turns away from you and moves further into the room with your bag while you deposit your purse on the bed, eyes glued to the painting.

“These Asgardians seem to be experts at everything.” David says, conversationally. “Their architecture, their music, their wits in battle. It seems even their art is exceptional.”

You’re still too busy staring to reply.

When David speaks again, he’s right beside you, voice dropped in volume.

“It must really look like him, to have you rendered speechless.” He observes.

“Yes.” You agree. “Just like him. Only now he has the eyepatch. He looks the same with two eyes. Less rugged but the same.”

“And he will remain the same, long after you’ve died, I think.” David admits.

“Yeah…” You swallow, looking down at the bottom of the frame.

The thought had only begun to occur to you when you’d been making your way through the city after Brunnhilde had confessed to being over a thousand years older than Thor and Loki.

“For Thor, this marriage will pass in the blink of an eye.” You sigh, feeling a little saddened by truth of that.

You turn around and sit down on the bed, resting your hands on your knees limply as you stare at the floor.

David squats before you, forearms on his knees.

“You’re serving a great purpose.” He tells you. “Ensuring the safety of the human race. You’re the white flag the Asgardians are waving. History will remember you, Y/N. It will not be in vain.”

Your eyes begin to water, and you nod, knowing he’s right.

“I know I just…” Your head gives an involuntary turn towards Thor’s portrait, but you manage to keep yourself from looking. “He’s in love with someone already. And, yeah, I’d never thought about being with someone before. But now that I’m faced with it, now that I know I’ll be his wife—I don’t know that I don’t want him to like me.”

“He may come around.” David consoles. “You’re a pretty girl and nice, even though you bite.”

His teasing draw a small curve of your lips. The levity however is quickly lost at the prospect of your life stretched out before you, never knowing love as your husband covets another woman.

This isn’t what you’d expected. To be fair you hadn’t expected anything, but now the idea of being married to Thor knowing that he’d much prefer if you were someone else hurts you in a way you didn’t know had been possible.

This ache in your chest feels strange and vivid and unbearable.

Your tears flow. David sighs and reaches up to wipe your cheeks, pulling you in for a hug.

Taking his offered comfort, you hide your face against his shoulder, allowing yourself these few moments to really feel the anxiety and sadness this whole thing has brought.

“I’m sorry.” David tells you, his voice steady but sad. “I wish I could give you a better life. I know that this is not what you parents would have wanted.”

You pull back, shaking your head as you gather yourself. “No, David. You’ve been the most supportive person in my life. This is how it’s supposed to be. Otherwise, why would I have the ancestors I have, right?”

David sighs, reaching up to wipe at your cheek.

“Besides, it’s not like I’ll be truly suffering. Not like other people do. I’ll have a good roof over my head, food, money won’t be a worry. How many other people my age can say that?”

David’s gaze becomes skeptical and he purses his thin lips a little. “Is that really how you feel?”

“Fuck no. This whole thing is complete shit.” You argue, then laugh as David chuckles too.

“There’s that fighting spirit. Keep that fire, Princess, and you’ll find a way through this.” He says, and the way the word Princess rolls of his lips makes you feel the way you’d always thought you’d feel had your dad lived to be a part of your life.

“You say that like it’s easy.” You sigh.

Before he can answer, there’s a knock on the door and it opens.

Both you and David shoot up to your feet as Loki walks in.

He’s smiling politely until he sees your face.

“I’m sorry. Am I intruding?” Loki wonders, as you quickly wipe away the tears left on your cheeks.

“No.” You shake your head quickly, voice thicker than when you arrived because of your break down. “No. Of course not. Come in.”

He doesn’t look convinced and his brow is furrowed as he looks you both over then stands with his hands behind his back. He looks neat and exotic wearing a pair of dark pants, a black top with embellishments in stunning emerald, a thin golden chain connecting each side of his high collar to the other.

“I’ve come to make sure that you find the clothing we’ve left for you.” Loki gestures at the armoire.

“I’m-I can’t wear what I brought?” You ask, pressing your hand to your chest, unintentionally sniffing.

“Tonight, you will meet with my brother’s court. It is a formal event that you must attend wearing slightly more traditional Asgardian garb.” Loki replaces his hands behind his back. “Brunnhilde has chosen something she thought would be your color. You have an hour then we’ll send your maid in to fetch you.”

You nod.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Loki asks again.

“You’re surprisingly worried.” You tell him, David moving to open the armoire and get a look at what you’re going to have to wear.

Loki’s face quickly shifts into a smile, his eyes averted as he nods.

“I hear you were the only person other than Thor who chose me.” You sit back down slowly, your hands softly skating over the cool silky sheets. “Why?”

“You were a breath of fresh air.” He admits. “Compared to the other candidates, you seemed the only one with her feet on the ground.”

Looking away from him you pinch the plum sheets.

“Is that why Thor chose me too?” You ask, knowing it isn’t the reason he chose you.

“Whatever the reason,” Loki begins, and his voice is stern enough to draw your gaze. “I’m certain my brother has nothing but honorable intentions. He’s always been the good one.”

“I think that’s true.” You nod, “He has always been the good one, if the stories are to be believed.”

“I make no excuses for who I was.” Loki assures you.

“But I think you and I both know that Thor’s intentions when it comes to me are anything but honorable.” You smile sadly. “I really hate lying. Let’s not lie to each other. We’re family, right? Or will be.”

Loki’s look remains somber, his eyes far away for a moment.

“You’re the right woman for the job. That is the truth.” Loki admits.

“I guess we’ll see.”

Loki nods. “One hour, your highness.”

His words give you a shock, and your left gaping at him as he leaves and shuts the door behind him.

“Well, that sounded strange.” David admits, “But not as strange as this dress. Well, perhaps strange is not the right word.”

You’re still reeling from the your highness as you get and walk to David that it takes your eyes a moment to process the sight before you.

“I am not wearing that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t breathe in this thing!” You whine, hooking your fingers into the ultra-high neckline of your dress.

It’s more like a cage, this piece that goes around your throat and shoulders. It connects to a slightly see-through bodice with soft split threads lining the length of the dress, underneath the top, silver layer is a soft pink one that stands pretty against your skin. It gives the dress depth and offers a pleasant backdrop for the waterfall skirt as it fans out around your feet.

The lattice neckpiece connects to the dress’s neckline with four stiff wire connectors wrapped in the same silver fabric as the rest of the dress.

Your hair, your maid expertly gathered atop your head, shaping it to look as much like you as it can but also keeping it contained with several silver Celtic knot-looking clips. She’d added very little color to your face, telling you that Thor had requested you look as much like yourself as possible so that his court could see the real you.

Even so, you’re overwhelmed by what you see in the mirror as you pass a particularly large one as you and David make your way to the dining hall.

“Don’t fret.” David tells you, reaching over to stop your wringing hands. “Just be yourself. That’s why he chose you.”

“So, what you’re saying is to not be myself.” You nod. “Got it.”

David pulls you to a stop, turning you to face him. Your maid, Estrid, keeps walking a bit then stops leaving you both some space.

“I want you to remember something, Y/N.” David says, low and quiet so that only you can hear him. Well, he doesn’t know that Asgardians have better than human hearing, but whatever. “These people, they need you. They need you. More than you will ever need them.

“Without you, they might have to leave Earth because Thor will never turn against the human race. I don’t know why. We’re not that great.” David shrugs, and your mouth pops open as you breathe a pained gasp.

In this moment, with David’s helpful words, you’re provided with astounding clarity.

“She’s human.” You realize, eyes watering.

It happens so quickly, your breath catches, brain in a frenzy, hands shaking, sweating, your tears flow freely.

You’ve never cried so much in your life and you understand now that this will be your new state of being because what else can you do when you’ve knowingly given your life to a man who loves another human woman which only means that she will also only live for a short time and that means that Thor doesn’t have a lot of time with her so, of course he’ll want to be with her until the day she dies, because she’s the one he really wants to be with, and you’re just the tool to use so that he can stay here with her.

What kind of life have you fated yourself to?

“Your Highness?” Estrid asks, concern painting her voice as you shake your head, too panicked to speak.

David moves you towards the wall, pressing you against it to lean as Estrid moves closer to peek at you.

“Might I be of assistance?” She offers and David turns a smile on her.

“A glass of water, perhaps?”

Estrid hurries away giving you and David the hallway.

“Y/N?” He says, voice hard. “Breathe.”

You look at him, focus on the streak of white in his hair as it falls forward to hang across his brow.

It helps and you shut your mouth and breathe in deep through your nose.

He reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls from it a white handkerchief. With gentle fingers, he coaxes your face up so that he can carefully wipe the tear stains from your cheeks. He takes a bit of the blush they’d put on you, but you don’t care, and he doesn’t either.

“What is it that troubles you? Tell me.” He urges you.

“Um…” You begin, chin quivering and making your voice shake a little. “…I-I-I don’t know how I’m going to be married to him when I kn-know that he really wants to be with s-someone else. I don’t know how…how…how…”

David sighs, shaking his head as he caresses yours. “Then you look elsewhere too. If he sees fit to be with someone else while you’re married, then you deserve to experience love too. Take a lover. Be discreet. No one will know and you will both get what you want.”

“Isn’t that wrong?” You half cry. “I mean, aren’t wives and husbands s-supposed to be faithful?”

David smiles, pulling your head down to kiss your forehead. “Then give him a chance to change his mind. If he doesn’t love you by the end of the year, then he’s a bigger fool than I already think he is. A downright dumbass.”

“I don’t like the idea of someone being with me when they don’t want to be.” You admit.

And David doesn’t need you to explain that this stems from living in the school, waiting for adoption only to never be chosen.

You’ve finally been picked, and this is what it’s for?

“Do you want me to come to dinner? I can insist on it.” He promises. “I’ll even make a scene.”

You shut your eyes and sob once, David pulls you against his chest and once more you hide your face against his shoulder.

Both of you hear her steps before you see her and yet, when you turn to accept your water, you’re frozen as you find yourself face to face with Thor.

He’s dressed beautifully, in black leather trousers, stitched with thick visible charcoal colored strips of more leather. His torso is covered in what you’d consider light armor. More leather pieces in deep gold tones except for the arms which are covered in metallic scales that shine under the hallway lights. His shoulders are draped in a floor length cape, black, thinner than the one you’ve seen him wear before.

A more casual cape, you suppose.

Both you and David are absolutely still, confused by Thor’s sudden appearance.

“I uh…” Thor looks uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he gestures behind him with his right hand, in his left a glass of water. “Estrid looked upset. She said you weren’t feeling well?”

There’s genuine concern in his voice and it surprises you enough to wipe away most of your worries for now.

“I’m fine.” You assure him.

David clears his throat. “I should go. I have my own dinner to eat.”

“No, please. Join us.” Thor rushes to invite him, gesturing back towards the dining hall again.

“No, no. Really.” David uses his hand to refuse, then reaches down to give your hand a squeeze. “Can I trust you to escort Y/N to dinner?”

Your heart swells for David, once again, the father you never had.

“Of course.” Thor nods, smiling at David before moving to you, seeing this as permission to move closer maybe? “I take full responsibility.”

There’s a twinge of bitterness in your chest, a rolling in your stomach as you see David narrow his eyes at Thor.

“I’m going to hold you to that, God of Thunder.” He threatens, and Thor seems to realize it’s a threat because he looks startled. However, he smiles and plays it off quickly, nodding. “Have a good dinner, princess.”

David gives your hand one more squeeze before leaving you and Thor to whatever awkward conversation you’re about to have.

Thor waits until you’re both alone in the hallway before he holds out the glass of water he’d brought for you.

“Have you been crying?” He wonders, voice soft and gentle. Deep too, it settles in your chest and makes you feel stupid for liking it.

“Just a little.” You admit.

“Why?”

“I’m nervous.” And that isn’t a lie. “And apprehensive.”

Also, not a lie.

“And I don’t trust you.” You confess, feeling no qualms about the shock that flits across his rugged face.

“What did I do?” He cries.

“You told me you’re in love with someone else who won’t marry you.” You sigh, taking a long drink of your water. “I’m not exactly excited to be marrying someone who already wants to be with someone else.”

Understanding shifts his expression and he nods, reaching up to scratch at the side of his chin.

“I’ll be honest,” He begins, offering you his arm as you lower your glass. “It was never something I expected either. After watching my parents love each other for many years, their marriage was something I hoped I could experience.”

“Then why didn’t you fight harder for this woman you love? Convince your court! She’s human, right? I’m sure the Earth Ambassadors would be happy to have you marry any human.” You reason, still hoping to get out of this even if the only thing you hate about this now is the fact that he’s in love with someone else.

That fantasy marriage you’d painted for yourself has taken over your inexperienced brain and planted a seed within your heart and you feel like a fool for it.

“They were fine with it. Jane is not ready for marriage and I cannot force her to marry me if she doesn’t want to.” Thor laments, truly sounding sad about her refusal.

“Doesn’t she care that you’re marrying someone else?” You wonder, watching his expression as he begins to lead you towards the dining hall.

“In a way.” Thor nods. “She and I want to be together, but Jane is devoted to her work. She could not make the time for the obligations marrying me would entail.”

“Sounds selfish.” You observe, hating Jane a bit because she has what you didn’t know you wanted. Maybe not exactly Thor himself yet, but the love he has for her.

Thor says nothing for a moment, thinking probably. He stops walking and you stop beside him.

“I would not want her to give up her passions. In marrying me, Jane would lose her identity. Which is too important to her to give up. I could never ask her to do it.”

“Because you love her.” You agree.

“Yes.”

“Which is why you find it so easy to do it to me.” You explain, realizing it as you speak it. “Because you don’t care about me. Therefore, my identity has little value. To you.”

Thor’s speechless, staring at you as your own heart pounds. You don’t know where you conjured the audacity to say the words out loud as they came to you, but they’re true. Truer than even you know.

“I do care.” Thor argues softly, looking at your hand wrapped around his bicep.

“You don’t, Thor.” You shake your head, politely disagreeing.

“Yes, I do!” He argues, this time a little more heated.

“What do I do for a living?” You challenge and he stutters, thinking hard.

He furrows his brow, crinkly creases at the corners of his eyes as he ponders.

You observe it’s loveliness. Truly a creature of perfection even with the gold and black metal patch over his eye. If he cared about you, you might actually fall for him. If he gave two shits, you might be a goner.

“Your family left you an inheritance!” He points out, as if this is what you do.

“You don’t remember?” You ask, knowing the answer. “I told you when we met, though I only mentioned it in passing.”

“How am I expected to remember then? If you were not specific?” He retorts.

“If I’d been Jane, you would have remembered.” You tell him.

“No.” He disagrees. “I’m always this inattentive.”

You laugh once, shocked by his candor. “You’re such a liar.”

“I’m not! Ask anyone once we’re seated. They’ll all tell you that I never pay attention or listen. To anyone!” He insists, and you laugh again because he’s being sincere.

His gaze is slight shock as he looks at you, then it softens, and he chuckles with you.

“Why are you laughing?” You ask him.

“I don’t know.” He chuckles again. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, I suppose.”

This sobers you and your laugh dies off.

“Can I ask a favor?” You look at him, trying to read him like you’ve never tried to do so to anyone before.

“Of course.” He nods.

“I know you don’t love me. And I know that the likelihood of you loving me at any point in our marriage is nonexistent, but I really want to try and make this marriage work. I want it to be as real as possible.

“Which means I want you to be honest with me about everything. I don’t want any secrets. I don’t want to think you’re talking to or meeting Jane because you’re acting suspicious. If you have to see her,” And he seems to understand that you mean, if he feels like he needs to for his own sake, because he loves her. “I want to know that’s what you’re doing. Please, don’t make a fool of me, Thor.”

Thor considers you for a moment, absorbing your words as you wait for his response.

Instead of giving you what you want, he gives you a long head-to-toe. “I was right to choose this gown.”

He chose it?

“You look exquisite. Just as a princess should.” He admires. “Come, let’s go introduce you to my friends.”

As he pulls you towards the dining hall, your heart begins to pound again as nervous energy courses through your veins setting your limbs to white noise again. Tingly.

“They’re all very eager to meet the woman who will be Queen of Asgard.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You worry.

Thor chuckles.

“I’m right there with you.”

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #arranged marriage au #royal au #marvel fanfiction #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fic #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fic #thor x you #king!thor x you #marvel au #a wife for thor #a wife for thor pt02 #thor odinson x reader

680 notes · View notes

strangerays · 3 years ago

Text

Nothing in Particular Update #2

It’s the Nothing and Particular and Everything update part two: the electric booglaloo. This one is long, so strap in.

It’s been a while since I wrote an update for this story. To be honest, this one gave me a lot of stress, but here I am! Writing this story feels like it is going very slow. I keep telling myself I’ve made a lot of progress (which is true, I have) but for some reason it doesn’t feel like I have? This is likely just my own insecurity. To be frank, I can’t believe I’m still writing this story. If you had told me in February that I’d still be writing this when the weather got warm, I would have laughed.

I am SO excited that I will finally be able to focus on writing now that I’m out of school. I’m afraid to speak the rough deadline that I’ve given myself for this story (the end of August-early September) but now that I’ve spoken it into existence, I hope I can finish! (I hope I can stop watching dumb videogame playthroughs and listening to The Magnus Archives and get something done)

Here is a link to the story introduction and previous update!

TAGLIST (ask to be +/-); @wannabeauthorzofija @a-completely-normal-writer @baguettethebooklover @corkytheguar @writeherewaiting

STORY CHANGES/THOUGHTS/IDEAS:

Here is a big one: I’ve been trying to write this story for myself. I started writing Ray’s story from a place that was personal to me, but I feel like, as that part of myself has begun to heal, I’ve started to think about what a reader would want out of the story. I’m realizing that this is my story so it has to be what I want. Drafts are drafts for a reason, so I’m going to try to get better at letting myself explore what is fun to me.

I always thought I was a discovery writer (I still sort of think I am) but as I’ve finished small sections of the story, I am finding that it’s very helpful to do a rough outline of scenes in upcoming chapters. (I also recommend turning to this if something doesn’t work and you need to retrace your steps!) Just helps me feel more organized!

Jude’s character has got to be one of the most difficult personalities I’ve ever written. Putting her beside Ray just makes it harder. Where Ray is secretive and keeps to herself, Jude is ready to unpack her entire life’s story to anyone. I find that I really have to slow down when writing their interactions. I know this is going to be nowhere near perfect in the first draft, but I think it is a main contributor to my slow writing.

I really like this little narrative I’ve created in the background of the main plot with Ray and Lonan. I love writing these scenes because it’s a way for me to use Lonan when he’s not actively with Ray and to show why Ray is predetermined about things at certain points. Also I love their friendship so much <3

CONGRATULATIONS TO ME on starting to read again because I forgot how much of a help reading other people’s stories can be when you’re struggling with your own oml

I now have a set timeline for the story! Takes place ~4-5 months.

I did that thing where you write a letter from the characters’ perspectives and that was kind of fun

Also just for fun I thought I’d add in that I spent an hour and a half last week filling up a page in my sketchbook with diagrams of the plot. It feels good to be a mad scientist

EXCERPTS UNDER THE CUT!

*At this point, I’m only sharing writing that I am really proud of in order not to spoil the story! This is because I am unsure whether I want to publish this story someday. With that said, that does NOT give you permission to steal my ideas!

CHAPTER: NIGHT CRIES

In the last week of summer, I did everything I could to avoid post-vacation blues. I rode my bike along the gravel roads with no destination, wore my dark sunglasses to people-watch, and fed salami to the minnows that floated on the cusps of boulders. Usually, I sat still for so long that my elbows turned a deep shade of red and the blood in my toes buzzed.

New pockets seemed to open up in Point Blink every day. And with them, came new people. Most of them were older – a middle aged woman who caked her lipstick on, an uncle estranged from his brother, a couple who had miscarried. I hadn’t forgotten about the kids at Mothouse. It was impossible not to think about them. It wasn’t just that I’d never seen them before.

The girl’s limp cigarette bled a trail of smoke that seeped into my Vans. My shirt folded like skin over my bed post. Haunted the room – foiled my mauve sheets and teased my locks. Swept the curtains apart and heated the oak floor. Beams of moonlight leapt to my bookcases; highlighted the posters from various podcasts and bands that I listened to. Wind whistled when I was too still. She forced me to look outside, onto the dark cul-de-sac lit by the reflections of forming rain puddles. No matter whether I sat at my desk or burrowed under my sheets, I felt out of place. She made my bedroom louder. She made my bedroom quieter.

I decided it would probably be best if I never saw her again.

To be honest, I don’t remember much about writing this chapter because it was over a month ago (sorry) but I’m still quite happy with the prose! This comes in after Ray sees Jude for the first time at Mothouse. Based on a first impression, decides that she might want be friends with Jude.

CHAPTER: SORRY

If you spend any long amount of time with someone, you’ll become a thief to their behaviors. If I stared long enough, trees began to replace all of the people we’d ever seen. Oaks had roots that serpentined the ground like children splashing in the bay, pines with needles like spindly old hands, maples with hollows like watchful eyes – all things Lonan had taught me to observe.

CHAPTER: GHOSTS

Then there was the sea – violent and knowing as it romped within bays and alcoves. She had eaten me many times before, both my father and Lonan too. Gulped them as if they were shining plastic wrappings left behind after a meal. I spited her for inviting me once again. I reached up again to grapple with the next rung. It twisted and offered a low whistle.

In these two chapters, Ray is on a photography trip with her class. This is the first time she’s been on this annual trip without Lonan. She left that morning with a goal of being independent and learning to get on with one of the only people she has felt close to. I realize now that the Ghost excerpt sort of sounds like her dad and Lonan have drowned?? Which was not my intention??

CHAPTER: A DIVINE INTERVENTION

“Do you believe in ghosts?” A raspy voice teased from behind me. Cigarette smoke tickled the words, like they were stuck together with jelly inside of her. The question wasn’t particularly calming, but it strengthened my grip on reality. As if the foiled leaves, bark, and dandelions had sprung from the ground and begun to float, they came crashing back down.

I was made of stone.

“I’m not a ghost,” Jude said. “If I was, a ladder would be a pretty counteractive way to outrun me. I could just float up there and haunt you.”

“Maybe you’re a ghost,” she asked, her voice distant.

I shifted my grasp up and down the sides of the ladder. “What?”

“Don’t you believe in ghosts?”

I was reading back some of Ray and Jude’s conversation and there are so many snippets of dialogue that make me laugh because I totally forgot I wrote them... but UGhhH I don’t know if I want to share them because I don’t know whether or not I want to try and publish the story someday. Speaking of that, it’s sort of because it’s so personal to me? I don’t know (this is for future me to pursue) Honestly though, reading these back has made me really happy :)

I wanted to shake her by the shoulders. She acted as though Point Blink could breathe – as though corpses in the cemetery might pull the grass away like dead skin, neighbors would draw blades, and blood-salt would stain her clothes rather than that from the sea. “Trust me, they’ll forgive you. But, I’m just saying, most people around here don’t care nearly as much as you think so. Most of them are way older anyways, so they’re tired of us.”

“Is that you complimenting yourself?” Jude asked.

“Not intentionally,” I said, “but I will take it.”

She laughed. “You shouldn’t be so nice to strangers.”

I wasn’t trying to be. I just didn’t think I wanted her to dislike me.

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing or a good thing,” Jude said. “Being good gets you tucked into a thousand different memories. Being good makes you live a lifetime.”

I almost laughed, but then I wondered what I was to her now. “I don’t talk to lots of people.”

“Sometimes there aren’t many people to talk to. But I thought you would have loads of friends.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I thought you would too.”

Alarm like grief lit her eyes, but she laughed. I did too.

“You hardly know me,” she said quietly.

Then the girls explore some old newspapers and letters in a fire tower! Spooky fun!

CHAPTER: YOU LET THIS HAPPEN

This isn’t a major spoiler as it’s literally in the blurb I wrote, but Ray and Jude are caught (targeted..??) in a fire. Ray is brought back to a field where she is questioned.

CHAPTER: NOTHING HAPPENS

He was quiet for several moments while he painted a picture with what little details I had given him, then said, “It’s unfair. I think that’s why it hurts.”

“Because we almost got hurt?”

“No. Because it came true.”

His gentle, ragged voice made me think I could tell him anything. Sometimes, I think that, even then, he knew I left something out.

Ray talks to Lonan after the fire... She’s being a bit dishonest about what actually happened.

CHAPTER: WHY NOT

I remember how the barest amount of red light glared across Lonan’s entire scalp and washed his boyish curls magenta from the roots out. When Jude leaned back on the counter, she melded into the darkness.

This chapter is just part of the narrative that I created with Ray and Lonan’s friendship. There isn’t much I want to spoil from it, but I liked this paragraph!

CHAPTER: INEVITABLE

“We didn’t do anything,” I said.

“Someone did. Why won’t you believe me?”

“I think I would remember whether or not someone was there with us,” I said, “even if we didn’t have the picture.”

This was untrue. I hung lots of photos in my room. A long time would pass before I went to a restaurant again, or a specific coven on one of the beaches, or an outfit that I wore, and I would look into one of my pictures and remember it, and then I would be quite angry with myself that I had almost forgotten that thing forever.

“I don’t think you understand what I mean,” Jude said. I didn’t like the way she’d lowered her voice. She sounded different every time I saw her. She reached out her arm so our photos were side by side and our fingers were almost touching. “I don’t think you want to.”

Ray finds herself alone in the school’s dark room with Jude. Based on the contents of one of her photos, she tries to convince Ray that there is more to the fire than what meets the eye.

CHAPTER: (this one is untitled)

I didn’t mind that he followed me everywhere. Even when he was quiet, I didn’t find it strange to be around him. We sat silently through films and went on walks. Once, he had fallen asleep while watching The Iron Giant in my bed. I didn’t know if I should wake him up once it ended. I tried not to stare at him. He’d rolled onto his side and bundled himself in one of my blankets covered in stars up to his shoulders so only his small face poked out like a baby owl’s. His soft breath messed his dirty gold coils. They were at their longest. Except for the ebbing light from a candle on my desk, my house was asleep – Lonan needed to go home.

For the first time, I wondered if anyone cared where he was.

Another small part of the little friendship narrative! (This really is the part of the story where I get nostalgic for my childhood, isn’t it) Ray starts to discover more about Lonan’s home life in this part of the story, but there’s not much that I think I want to reveal about that for now.

CHAPTER: THE CRUX OF IT

Why did I feel so paranoid? I found myself staring out the window, into the film of blue that the late sun shown onto the grass and trying to remember what summer felt like.

My main problem was that I didn’t know how to talk to Jude unless it was about Sugarfell. I ran from the hush of cigarette smoke behind closing doors and heard her loud voice in conversations. Even though there might have still been a part of me that wanted to be friends with her, I didn’t have much to base that feeling off of. I could have spent hours clicking the little pieces of her that I had together, but the crux of it was that I would never know Jude unless I forced myself to.

For some reason, that really scared me.

I spent all week trying to think of what to say to her. By Friday afternoon, I still had nothing.

I left off writing with Ray actively avoiding Jude’s little investigation into the arsonist. Ray doesn’t want to be involved in this because she feels that it will throw her sense of normalcy off course. She really just wants to learn how to adapt to a life without her best friend. (It doesn’t help that she’s got fresh trauma)

What will Ray decide? I don’t know. We shall see. (just kidding I know)

Sorry this update was longer! I think I would like to start updating more often than once a month just because they would be shorter and those of you reading this won’t forget what happened in the last update. There are thousands and thousands of words that didn’t show up in this update because - like I said - I don’t know whether I want to publish this story ever?? I’ll probably talk more about this in a separate update.

Thank you so much to those of you who read about my story! I hope you enjoy it!

p.s. btw I now have a myWriteClub account! You can check it out here and stalk me as I tragically fail my writing goals!

#ffs writing this update was like throwing a boulder into a lake #there was so much I wanted to share #it's really difficult to decide what to share as sometimes a paragraph that I'm really proud of will be really spoilery #I can only imagine this will be more and more difficult as I get further into the story #ANYWAYS #I feel like I'm really beginning to see who my characters are <3 #I feel like a proud mother #To be honest #I kind of hated Jude in the beginning #but now I feel like Ray hates her too so that makes me like her #haha im so mean #tune in next time for a Sapphic spy date

16 notes · View notes

eeereja · 3 years ago

Text

Job at hand: Must know 16 programming languages

Everything from waking up in the morning to seeing the weather every day before going to bed at night can now be seen in just a few clicks. This has been made possible by the development of technology. To put it more clearly, for the benefit of software and various applications. Software dependence is increasing with time. "Software is eating the world," said Marcy Andresen, a U.S. technology entrepreneur and investor. "The whole world is now in the grip of software. These much-needed or useless software is created by coding." Coding is done using programming languages. There are many languages in this programming. Some of these languages are very popular and more helpful in the job field. An organization hires programmers according to the type of work. So before learning programming, one should have an accurate idea about the fields of work. The popular business magazine Business Insider has compiled 18 popular programming languages based on a survey of stock overflow and TOB index.

The report highlights the languages that are currently popular and in demand in the job market.

Java

Java is a programming language. Since Sun Microsystems designed Java in the early '90s, it quickly became one of the most popular programming languages in the world. This language is now used to create applications for the mobile platform Android. In addition, various business software is created with the help of Java.

C is a programming language. It was created by Dennis Ritchie and Bell Labs while working in the '70s. . The first purpose of creating the language was to use it to write code for the Unix operating system. It soon became a widely used language. C has had a profound effect on many programming languages. The most interesting aspect of it is its portability. Programs written in this language can be run on computers of any operating system.

Python

Python is a high-level programming language. It was first published in 1991 by Guido van Rossum. Much emphasis has been placed on the readability of the program while creating it. Here the programmer's work is given more importance than the computer. Python's core syntax and semantics are very brief. However, the standard library of the language is much richer. Among the big projects that have used Python are Zop Application Server, Emnet Distributed File Store, YouTube and the original BitTorrent client. Among the big organizations that use Python are Google and NASA. Python has multiple uses in the information security industry. Some Immunity Security Tools, some Core Security Tools, Web Application Security Scanner WAPT and Fazar TAOF, are particularly noteworthy.

PHP

PHP is a scripting programming language, which was originally designed to create websites. It incorporates command line interface capabilities and can use standalone graphical applications. Rasmus Lordruff invented PHP in 1995. Most of it is used to create web servers. It can be used for free on almost all operating systems and locations. According to Wikipedia, PHP is being used on more than 2 million websites and 1 million web servers.

Visual Basic

Visual Basic is abbreviated as VB. Software giant Microsoft launched the language in 1991 as an improved version of the old Basic language. As per Wikipedia, it is the most broadly utilized programming language in PC history. Although it is an old programming language, it is still used today.

JavaScript

The JavaScript programming language is very popular for creating web-based applications. Java has nothing to do with this. JavaScript is being used on popular website sites around the world.

And

'R' is an open computer programming language created for statistical work. The fruit of the tireless and relentless work of world-renowned statisticians. It is not just a programming language but also a statistical package and an interpreter.

Google develops the programming language 'Go.' Its structure is not at all complicated like other object-oriented languages. There is no question of sub classing here. It has brought different dimensions or different tastes in object-oriented programming in the use of interface. It has the imprint of Python language. Google always favors Python a little bit. Like Python, it supports Go and Slice, which allows you to refer to a specific part of an array with a simple syntax.

Ruby

Ruby is another popular programming language. It very well may be utilized to foster work area applications and web applications. Its different mainstream systems make the work simpler. Its various popular frameworks make the work easier. It is much easier to maintain the code in this language. No need to comment too much. If you look at the code, you can understand the purpose of the code. Ruby has no semicolon. It is White Space Independent. The use of brackets is very low.

Swift

Swift Steve Jobs is the programming language of the famous tech giant Apple. This language works faster than Objective-C. It can be easily learned. Programmers can write the code at the same time to see its output. Swift is powerful and efficient as a compiled language, as simple and interactive as any other popular language.

Objective c

Objective C is a reflective, object-oriented programming language. Smalltalk's message exchange system has come together with so many C languages. It is currently used mainly in Mac OS X, iPhone OS. It is based on the OpenStep standard - the main language of the NextStep, OpenStep and Cocoa frameworks.

Pearl

Larry Wall invented the Pearl language. It was first published in 1986. Features have been borrowed from C, Born Shell, Oak, Sed, and Lisp in this language. It is highly effective in string processing.

The other five programming languages on Business Insider's list are gravy, assembly language, Pascal, Matlab, etc. If you know these well, there will be no problem in getting a job worldwide. A programmer does not have to be unemployed if he is fluent in these languages.

- Mahmudur Rahman

2 notes · View notes

eryiss · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter One - The House

Summary: Freed and Laxus live incredibly different lives. Freed is a corporate lawyer in the capital city, and Laxus works as a handyman in a countryside hotel. Despite their differences, their lives collide when Freed inherits a house in Laxus’ village, and hires him to make the derelict building liveable. But the closer they get, the more they seem to offer each other. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as my admission for Fraxus Day 2020, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus. It ended up becoming a multi-chapter, and I thought the first chapter should go up today, as a holloween gift. The next one will be published on thursday, and will continue on weekly.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter One – The House

Freed hadn't expected his mother's death to be so tedious.

He should probably feel more emotional about it. He and his mother had no ill-will towards one another – there was no tragic secret nor history of arguing or abuse between them – but he found himself oddly unbothered by hearing of her death. Not a numbness of any kind either, he felt very much the same as if a colleague had told him their mother had passed. It was just an event that had happened, and something that affected his life, but not his emotions.

His apathy probably came from the fact he and his mother hadn't spoken for years. Again, not for any great reason, just because they didn't. He and his father had always been closer, and when he had died four years prior, Freed had grieved and got over it as best a person can. His mother was the worker of the family, and thus the emotional relationship hadn't been as strong. Neither had made an effort to connect in their adulthood, only really linked by his father. And so once he had passed, there wasn't really any reason to speak. Neither person was overly emotional, so they didn't seek comfort in one another's arms, and instead just drifted off.

And so, the death of his mother was tedious.

Death was followed by a lot of things. The need to plan a funeral, people being completely unaware of how to act around him, and an odd amount of pity coming from people who didn't know him at all. Freed was something of a pragmatist, and as such it became an experience he didn't want to repeat. At least with the death of his father, he'd had his sadness to distract him. But this was just, well… tedious.

Perhaps the worse thing to have happened occurred two days prior. As was customary after someone passes, there was a reading of the will. A pointless exercise for this instance, given Freed had literally inherited everything. Freed knew this already – he was his family's lawyer for god's sake, he drafted the damned thing – but he still had to attend the reading. So, for an hour in a busy work week, he was forced to travel down two floors in his building, and sit there while another lawyer – Natsu Dragneel, who had actually interned under Freed for a year – explained the law and what the will meant. To the man who had taught him it!

Further adding to the annoyance of the situation, almost everything he'd inherited had strings attached. There was a lot of debt, from both loans and gambling, apparently. Freed's credit score was going to take a hit, given how much there was. There were also her belongings, which he would have to look through at some point. She also apparently owned property, which was now his.

This would be good, had it not been for its location. Freed's life was centred in the city, this house was in the middle of the countryside, miles from what Freed considered civilisation. Why she had owned a house there was beyond Freed, she was more metropolitan than him; she lived in Era and Era alone. But unfortunately, now it was his.

So now, he was nearing the end of a three-and-a-half-hour train ride.

He was going to sell the place, of course. Why his mother hadn't done so confused Freed, given her debts. Property values were high in this area, many rich older people wanted to retire there, and a three-bedroom cottage was perfect for that. But he needed to see it, speak with estate agents, and sign away the rights. All in all, tedious.

When he got off the train, he was hit by how different it was to Era. It was open, the air smelt different and it looked like an illustration from a Victorian romance novel. All very idyllic, but Freed had no intention of staying long enough to appreciate it. Instead, he located the taxi service, and ordered a car to his new property.

Apparently Uber hadn't arrived there yet.

The car came soon enough, and after a few failed attempts to illicit more than a curt answer from Freed, it was a quiet ride. It took about forty minutes, and Freed watched as fields passed by, the atmosphere dampened by the scent of manure filling the air. People raved about the fresh air in the countryside, but Freed much preferred the smell of petrol and faint piss of Era to literal crap. Better the devil you know.

Thankfully, the smell of muck spreading was interrupted when his phone lit up. He glanced at the contact name – 'Estate Agent' – before lifting it to his ear and accepting the call. He needed an evaluation for the property, and apparently this man was the best in the area. Hopefully the fastest too.

"Mr Clive," He greeted, leaning back.

"Mr Justine," The estate agent replied in a more jovial tone. "Just to let you know, I'm at the property and waiting for you. There's been a few evaluations over the years and they're all pretty similar, so it shouldn't take long."

"Thank you," Freed nodded to himself, glancing past the front seat to see the GPS saying they should be at their destination in about five minutes. "I'll be there soon."

"Great," Gildarts' grin was audible in his tone. "Sorry that you had to come down here to deal all of this."

"It's not your fault," Freed said placatingly, though not honestly. "The sooner it's done, the better."

"Couldn't agree more," Gildarts grinned.

"Why had it been evaluated before?" Freed asked, brows furrowing slightly.

"Apparently your mother has tried to sell it a few times. Twice with independent online stores, and once with an estate agent. Clearly it didn't go well," The man laughed. "But we'll be more successful. We know what we're doing."

After some pointless pleasantries, the call was ended. Freed found himself frowning; a cottage in this area should have been sold without any difficulty. The fact this one hadn't, despite its perfect position and seemingly positive qualities, didn't bode well. He tried to be optimistic, but at this point, it was almost certain that even selling the house would further add to his annoyances.

It was ten minutes later – it took longer than expected because he got caught up in traffic caused by a heard of cows crossing from one field to the other, followed by an uncaring farmer who glared at the taxi as if it were an affront to his lifestyle – when he saw the house.

It was clear as to why his mother couldn't sell it.

The place was practically derelict. In its prime it would have been the ideal village cottage, with white walls and a slated roof. It would have had a garden filled with perfectly trimmed flowers, a large but well-groomed oak tree, and most likely a cliché dog running around. Unfortunately, the house's prime was clearly centuries ago because it embodied the world decapitated in a way Freed had never seen. The roof was falling apart, the garden filled with so many overgrown plants nothing else could be seen, and a window was hanging out of the wall. It was unliveable, and practically unlovable.

Perfect. His mother had left him debt, three wardrobes filled with wrinkled clothes, and a building nobody could use without a death wish. Now his hopes of selling the place was unrealistic.

As he approached the building, a man made his presence known by leaving a car with a smile on his face. He was older than Freed, in his late forties if Freed was being kind, and he gave a polite 'Hello' as he approached. It was clearly the estate agent, who was showing a lot more optimism than Freed felt at that moment.

"Mr Justine, nice to meet you in person," He greeted.

"Likewise," Freed nodded, though his tone didn't reflect the sentiment. Gildarts laughed.

"I can see from your face that you were expecting something a little… different," The man chuckled, and Freed found himself annoyed by the man's enthusiasm. "You probably thought it'd be a little more liveable, didn't ya?"

"Something like that," Freed agreed, looking at the building almost accusingly.

"Well if it's any kind of relief, the building's structure is actually very secure. I won't lie, there's probably hundreds of problems going on in there, but at least the roof isn't going to collapse on our heads," The agent laughed, and in any other situation it might be less grating. "I can explain the details as we look through it, I'm sure that you want to get this done quickly."

"If that's possible."

Gildarts nodded, then jogged back to his car. When he returned, he was holding two hardhats that one would see on a building site, and Freed looked at it warily. Gildarts smiled and patted him on the shoulder with an unneeded amount of strength.

"The roof itself won't fall, but there's always a chance that the ceiling tiles might, so we can't be too careful, can we?" He chuckled loudly, placing on his hat, and walking into the building. Freed, after a moment of hesitation, joined him.

~~~

"So, you're sayi-" A small scratch. "-basically unsellable."

Freed ground his teeth together slightly. He was pacing down a village high-street, holding his phone to his ear and trying his best to listen to Evergreen's stuttering voice. Apparently random country roads were perfectly fine with phone signals; but for the most built up area for miles, it was practically impossible to have a conversation without some kind of interference. It was something very quickly grating on his nerves.

"Essentially, yes," Freed sighed, sidestepping a couple walking towards him. "It's too run down for anyone to want to buy it. My estate agent said the best thing to do is to see if a property auction will take it and sell it cheap."

"Why don't you-" Another scratching sound. "-it down. Sell the land-" A quick, high pitched noise. "-farmer or property developer."

Freed's muscles tenses slightly at the suggestion. He had thought about that, but of course when he had told Gildarts that it was the logical course of action, the man had looked at him with something akin to pity in his eyes. He had then patted the man on the shoulder – again making Freed's body jerk slightly with the power behind the action – and added another layer of annoyance to this ridiculous situation.

"Apparently it's a listed building, and has some kind of historical preservation status," Freed sighed, slowing slightly when the buzzing on the phone went quiet. Hopefully, he had a stronger signal now. "Essentially meaning, the building has to stay."

"If it's so important, why did they let it get so run down?" Evergreen asked, voice clear now.

"They didn't, my mother has been receiving phone calls and letters from local council about it for years," Freed wiped at his eye with his free hand, deflating slightly. "Which I will now be getting, I suppose. Along with the letters and phone-calls from debt collectors, no doubt."

"How much would it sell for as it is?"

"Optimistically, 25 thousand. Since you can't make any modifications to the outer building, something in this state is hard to get customers for."

It wasn't anywhere near enough to cover his mother's debts, even when combined with the savings he was unwilling to give up. Though a successful corporate lawyer and having saved a substantial part of his earning for over ten years, Freed was by no means rich. His family came from money, but never gave any to him as they wished for him not to be spoiled. So far it hadn't mattered, but now with six figures of debt from nowhere, his comfortable life seemed unstable. This wasn't helped by the fact he only wanted to use his savings as a last resort; he'd saved this money for himself, not to give to online casinos because of his mother's apparent addiction.

"Couldn't you make it a bit more marketable," Evergreen suggested, and Freed found himself irrationally irritated by the chewing he heard. They were colleagues, and he knew that her lunch break wasn't for another hour. "Tidy it up slightly."

"It's not run down, it's unliveable," Freed grunted. "The windows are boarded up, the garden practically a jungle, bare floorboards, furniture that is practically rotting, and a bird had nested on the oven."

"Maybe plant some flowers and bake a cake when showing people around," Evergreen joked, and Freed almost laughed.

He couldn't resent his mother. He did love her, and perhaps if he had made some kind of effort in talking to her then maybe the debts wouldn't have happened because she could talk to him about her gambling. Of course that regret was pointless now, thinking about what he could have done wouldn't change anything. He just had to deal with the consequences.

"You'll figure something out," Evergreen spoke up again.

"I know," Freed nodded. "But I'm not quite sure exactly how, yet."

"Well, I've just checked, and there's a nice-looking hotel near you," Evergreen smiled, and Freed could hear the clicking of a computer mouse through his speakers. "All good reviews, apparently a brilliant kitchen and very nice staff."

"Good for them," Freed said with furrowed brows.

"I've booked you a room," Evergreen declared, clearly grinning. Freed went to speak but Ever went first. "You're staying there for a week. You can either spend it thinking what to do next with your house, or just have a nice break, which you're overdue. Climb one of the mountains or something. I'll have a suitcase sent down with everything you need."

"No," Freed said firmly.

"I don't believe I gave you a choice, dear," Evergreen smiled. "And I've already paid for it. If you stay, consider it a gift. And if you don't, you'll be in even more debt, and I'm much worse than any bailiff you can think of, and we share an office, so I will make your life miserable."

"You're both blackmailing and threatening me," Freed grunted. "I could technically sue you for workplace harassment."

"Yeah, but you're my lawyer so you'd have to argue with yourself," Evergreen laughed. "Which you could, you've got an ego big enough you probably crop up on those reddit pages about people who think they're really smart," Freed let out an indignant sound at that, and Ever just laughed. "Just take some time off, you know you have to have a week off eventually. Why not just do it now? Enjoy the countryside, smell the fresh air, read a book."

"I read constantly, the fresh air is laden with the scent of literal shit, and so far the countryside is a pointless expanse of green that makes me want to take on more cases against environmentalists."

"Oh stop feeling sorry for yourself," Evergreen laughed. "Find your hotel, get yourself a drink, and relax for a week."

After a second of consideration, and a deflated sigh, Freed spoke again. "What's the hotel called."

"Fairy Tail Inn," Evergreen read aloud. "Sounds a bit cliché, but the rooms look great and the reviews are all good. Should be at one end of the high street, at the top of the hill."

Freed looked back over his shoulder, he had walked past the hotel in his search for a reliable amount of signal. He hadn't paid it much attention, as it was at the start of the conversation and he'd been attempting to understand any of what Evergreen was saying, but it looked nice enough. The only real reason he had actually remembered the place was because he was fairly sure they had mistaken the two spellings of the word Tail. He started to walk back up the steep high-street, telling Evergreen that he knew where the place was.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it then," Evergreen smiled, and the buzzing on the phone returned slightly. "See you in a week. Oh, and text me a picture of the house when you're tetchy so I can make fun of you. Bye!"

She cut herself off before Freed could reply, and the lawyer rolled his eyes slightly.

When he reached the top of the hill, he walked through a quaint beer garden and into the Fairy Tail building. He was confronted with a small front desk, behind which a woman with a light bob smiled up at him. He walked towards her, scanning the name tag – Lisanna – before she gave a polite introduction to the hotel.

"Are you here to eat, or to stay sir?" She asked, voice enthusiastic and happy.

"To stay," Freed explained. "I believe my friend just made a reservation for me. Freed Justine."

"One moment," She smiled, leaning down, and typing on the computer.

As she worked, Freed glanced around the lobby area. From the outside, the building had been incredibly rustic looking, and Freed had feared slightly that it was going to be as old fashioned and outdated inside as well. But it was contemporary, clean, and relatively nice. It was clear that it was made to look farmhouse-ish while keeping all the needed amenities, making a distinction from the branded hotels while also keeping to a high quality.

They had a few certificates hung on the walls, mainly hotel awards from different companies. There was also something proclaiming 'MAGNOLIA: Village of the Year 2019' in proud prominence. Freed vaguely wondered if this was something all businesses got, or if Fairy Tail was some kind of hub for the town.

"There you are," Lisanna said suddenly, and Freed turned back to her. "Room 17. If you'd like to follow me, I'll take you there. I can carry your bags if you'd like."

"I don't have any bags with me, actually," Freed said, and Lisanna looked at the floor with a frown to confirm his words. "This is rather impromptu, I'm afraid. I'm having a suitcase sent down here, I expect it'll be here tomorrow."

"Oh, okay," Lisanna smiled, though Freed could clearly see she was somewhat confused. "What brings you to Magnolia, if you don't mind me asking? We don't get many people here in autumn, you're our only guest actually."

"It's not for pleasure," Freed explained. "I inherited some property, and selling it isn't as easy as I thought, so I'll be here for a little while."

"Is that the Albion House?" She asked as they turned a corner.

"Yes," Freed answered a little slowly.

"Oh, sorry, that probably sounds a bit creepy that I know it so fast," She laughed. "It's just that news sort of travelled about it getting a new owner. It's been run down for a while, and people thought that maybe the new person would try and renovate it. But if you want to sell it then that's your choice of course, I hope it goes better than it did with your mother-" She stopped talking, and clearly looked uncomfortable. "Oh, I'm sorry. For your loss, and for that."

"You don't need to do that," Freed waved her off. "I'm not going to start crying at the sound of her name."

She looked relieved at his reaction, and Freed tried not to show a small scowl on his face. The young woman hadn't done anything wrong, but the fact she knew both the house and the fact his mother had died meant that other people knew as well. He had hoped that, at least for one week, he wouldn't have to deal with people knowing about his bereavement. Apparently he wasn't even going to be given this.

"Is the house important for some reason?" Freed asked as they climbed the stairs. "It's got historical preservation, and you said people were interested when they found out I own it."

"Not exactly," Lisanna smiled. "I think all the buildings in the town have that status, they want to make it look like it did when it was made. Personally, I think they do it because the council makes a lot of money from film shoots coming here," She laughed a little. "And we're a fairly small community, so news gets around. They were the same when it got sold last time, actually. They thought it'd get renovated too."

"So my mother wasn't the reason it looks like it does, then?"

"I've never seen it in a better state," Lisanna shrugged, before pausing in thought. "I think there's a painting of what it used to look like in your room. That's a coincidence."

She laughed to herself before continuing to walk, Freed following her. They walked through a few more corridors and up another staircase before they stopped at the old looking door of one of the rooms. Lisanna pulled a key from her pocket and opened the door, revealing the room that was to be Freed's home for the rest of the week. Freed walked in after, and looked around.

It was a nice room, also designed to look like it belonged in a farm house while still being relatively luxurious. It was on the smaller side, clearly Evergreen hadn't wanted to spend too much if the single bed was telling, but nice enough. A private bathroom, TV, and area for making drinks. It was essentially everything one could want from a hotel room. Although the fact that the slanted roof above the bed was low did make Freed pause; he would have to make sure not to bang his head when he awoke.

His eyes fell to a painting on the wall. Sure enough, there was an illustration of the house he'd been inside, only in a much better state. It looked rather homely.

"It's nice, isn't it," Lisanna smiled. "I think that's why people want to see it renovated. Just because it's nice."

"Well, perhaps soon it will be," Freed mused. "I'll most likely have to sell it to a retail auction, they often attract people looking for cheap property to work on, or so my estate agent said. So perhaps that'll happen."

"You don't sound enthusiastic about the idea?"

"I was hoping for more than an auction house would be willing to pay, I must admit," Freed sighed, still looking at the painting. "It's a last resort, but I doubt I'll find a better offer over the next week."

"You could renovate it and sell it when you're done?" Lisanna suggested.

"My knowledge of property development extends to the legal side only," Freed chuckled to himself. "If I were to try and work on it, there's a good chance I'd set it alight. I expect that doesn't align with the preservations society's rules."

"I suppose not," Lisanna laughed. "I should get back to the desk and leave you alone. Breakfast is served from six until twelve, you get it included in the price of the room. And if your bags come I'll bring them up for you, or have my brother do it since he's working the desk tomorrow If there's anything else you need, just call reception," She smiled. "And we hope you enjoy your stay."

Freed watched her leave, before standing alone in the room and letting himself decompress for the first time since he arrived.

Peculiarly, he found his gaze land on the painting.

#Fraxus Day 2020 #Fraxus Day #Fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #fairy tail #fanfic #writing #event #Multichapter #Word Count 3.9k #Fuckyeahfraxus

17 notes · View notes

gravitascivics · 4 years ago

Text

FROM CAMBRIDGE TO NEW HAVEN

Whereas this blog took a turn toward Yale College two posting ago, it left the reader with little information as to the developments at Harvard during the 1600s. This posting hopefully will modestly fill in the gaps in that story. The main reason for looking elsewhere relates to the quality of leadership experienced on the Cambridge campus.

This period saw subpar administrations beginning with Harvard’s first president, Henry Dunstar, who became embroiled in the religious turmoil between the scholastics and the Separatists – the strong Puritanical believers who took on the moniker, Baptists. He was eventually forced to resign and was followed by a succession of men that were not able to bring under control the rowdy student body. They were Charles Chauncey, Leonard Hoar, Urian Oakes, and John Rogers – these men were either physicians or clergymen.

Finally, in 1684, almost fifty years after its founding, Harvard hired its first effective president with the curious name, Increase Mather.[1] At the time of his acceptance of the position he was already well known as the pastor of the Old North Church of Boston where he secured the highest reputation among the second-generation New Englanders. From the get-go, Mather’s appointment had some political intrigue since his ascendency staved off direct control of the college by the English government.

One thing Mather accomplished was to upgrade the faculty. Two additions to that group would prove of particular consequence; that would be the hires of William Brattle and John Leverett. Brattle strongly insisted on Cartesian logic to attack skepticism – the belief that nothing is knowable. Leverett proved to be more independent of religious ideas and ideals and eventually assumed the presidency of Harvard in 1707. His more distinguishing posture led to his support of a new church.

As Allen Guelzo describes it,

Leverett would … talk more about virtue than about redemption, more about reasonableness rather than mystery, and he put his entire support behind the organization of a new church in Boston, the Brattle Street Church, whose Manifesto of 1699 proclaimed the church Congregational, not by reason of Scripture, but by the Light of Nature.[2]

Eventually, a rift developed between Increase Mather and Leverett, as Mather attempted to block the ascendancy of Leverett to the presidency, but it proved too late. This antagonism stemmed from the belief Leverett was drifting too far away from Calvinistic beliefs. And this discordance would be picked up by Mather’s son, Cotton Mather.

This drift, ironically, led like-minded advocates, headed by Cotton, to look to Connecticut to start a new college. That would be New Haven, and this younger Mather convinced Elihu Yale to provide the bulk of the funds. The irony continues, since it would be Yale College, through the work of its post-graduate tutor, Samuel Johnson, that would in time take the lead in promoting Enlightenment ideals and furthering the use of reason and the objectification of study that would lead the scholarship of that day.[3]

While surely other writers have commented on this next concern, what follows are the ideas of this blogger. And that has to do with a source of contention between Enlightenment thinking and Puritanism. Earlier, this blog introduced the acronym, TULIP. The letters stand for the various beliefs Puritans claim. The “U” stands for unconditional election which means one does not get to heaven through good works, but through being selected by God to be so rewarded. This smacked as antithetical to Enlightenment ideas.

The Enlightenment not only rejected the notion that a person knows such a thing, but that belief undermined human capacities to reason. Why a person is “saved” or not, must depend on more than the whimsical biases of some almighty power. If that contention were true, it would need to be discovered as a tangible reality to be believed and since such a belief can have such far-reaching effects, it is of no small matter. This writer believes that such disconnect underscored the ongoing discord between Enlightenment thinkers and the Puritans.

And another point, this writer wishes to highlight, that with objectified thinking having a Cartesian starting point of total ignorance, epistemological thinkers, since the days of the 1700s, have delved into what are the implications of Enlightenment thinking. One such scholar was Eugene Meehan in the mid-twentieth century. He provides the following list of criteria by which one can evaluate or ask questions of any theory, but given its thrust, they seem most applicable to scientifically derived theories. The list is:

• Comprehension: Does a construct explain as many phenomena related to the area of concern as possible?

• Power: Does a construct control the explanatory effort by being valid and complete in its component parts and in the relationships among those parts?

• Precision: Does a construct specifically and precisely treat its concepts, making them clear in their use?

• Consistency or Reliability: Does a construct explain its components and their relationships the same way time after time?

• Isomorphism: Does a construct contain a one-to-one correspondence with that portion of reality it is trying to explain?

• Compatibility: Does a construct align with other responsible explanations of the same phenomena?

• Predictability: Does a construct predict conditions associated with the phenomena in question?

• Control: Does a construct imply ways to control the phenomena in question?[4]

This is offered so that the reader can get a sense of what Enlightenment thinking has led to.

That is a highly disciplined way to look at, to measure, and to model what some aspect of reality is. Of course, such knowledge, as it is accumulated, leads to application of it and the advent of engineering. But a question to ask in terms of this blog’s story: was this influence limited to the New England colonies? The next posting will look at Virginia and Pennsylvania.

[1] Apparently, the name Increase was popular among Puritans during the time in question.

[2] Allen C. Guelzo, The American Mind, Part I – a transcript book – (Chantilly, VA: The Teaching Company/The Great Courses, 2005), 40.

[3] See posting, “A Yale Turn,” of this blog. It was published April 27, 2021.

[4] While this blogger cannot find from which of Meehan’s works this originates, the reader is directed to work of this now deceased academic. That is Eugene J. Meehan, Contemporary Political Thought: A Critical Study (Homewood, IL: Dorsey Press, 1967).

#Harvard #Yale #Enlightenment #Puritanism #Eugene Meehan

1 note · View note

hello-robin-goodfellow · 4 years ago

Photo

Bone

A lengthy independent comic book series by Jeff Smith that took 13 years to complete, mixing the sensibilities of a joke-of-the-day comic strip like Pogo with the sweeping story of an epic fantasy à la The Lord of the Rings. Jeff self-published the series in its original run, collecting the issues in groups of six or so in nine total volumes, until Image Comics picked it up for a time. A second printing came under Scholastic, Inc., for which Jeff's friend Steve Hamaker colored each and every page. The series eventually won several Eisner Awards and Harvey Awards, and propelled Jeff Smith into immense independent comic book acclaim.

It tells the story of three cousins, who happen to look like humanoid, bone-shaped Cartoon Creatures. They are exiled from their town called Boneville and become lost in a Magical Land called the Valley, where they meet an energetic old lady (Gran'ma Ben) and her beautiful grand-daughter (Thorn). Together, they're caught up in intrigue, magic, and adventure.

Characters

The Bone Cousins

Fone Bone: The main protagonist. Fone Bone is the most dependable, resourceful and most moral of the Bone cousins, and tends to be viewed as the "good" Bone since he's never involved in any of Phoney's moneymaking schemes. He's polite and friendly, and pretty good at thinking on his feet in a crisis. He has a huge crush on Thorn, but has problems telling her about it.

Phoncible "Phoney" P. Bone: Previously the "richest Bone in Boneville"; Phoney is a greedy, hotheaded schemer who always has a new plan for making money. The problem with his plans is that they tend to backfire and end with him being chased off by an angry mob.

Smiley Bone: The most happy-go-lucky of the cousins. Smiley is a friendly and loyal guy, but rather short on brains and not the most adept at telling right from wrong, which is why he so often lets himself get involved in Phoney's schemes. He pretty much adopts Bartleby the Rat Creature cub.

Friends and Allys

Thorn: Thorn was the titular character of the comic's earliest incarnation, and even now can be said to be the real protagonist of the series. She is a young girl on the verge of adulthood, who can talk to animals and who befriends the Bone cousins when they are lost in the valley.

Rose "Gran'ma Ben": Gran'ma Ben has the strength of ten elephants and can outrun any cow in the valley. She has lived peacefully with her granddaughter Thorn on a small farm for fifteen years, after the "big war".

Lucius Down: The owner of the Barrelhaven Tavern, he's a gruff and temperamental but ultimately kind-hearted old man, whom everyone knows has been "sweet on" Gran'ma Ben for decades. He's a constant foil to Phoney Bone and has ruined more than one of Phoney's moneymaking schemes.

Ted The Bug: Ted is a tiny little insect with a knack for "gettin' while the gettin's good." Nevertheless, despite his diminutive size he's helpful and surprisingly resourceful, and somehow he always seems to know everything that's going on.

The Great Red Dragon: The mysterious protector of Thorn and Fone Bone, and a master of last-minute rescues. He's a laid-back and lazy sort who at first glance doesn't seem very formidable, but he has a number of strange powers and is feared by the Rat Creatures.

Bartleby: A Rat Creature cub that ran off from the other rats and befriended Fone Bone and Smiley.

The Possums: A family of possums — Miz Possum and her three kids — that Fone Bone meets during his first winter in the valley, and who show up sporadically to help him out.

Roderick: A baby racoon whose parents were eaten by Rat Creatures. Plays a minor part in Bone, but is one of the main characters in Quest for the Spark.

The Orphans: Roderick's friends; a group of young animals in the same situation as him.

Jonathan Oaks: Lucius's assistant at Barrelhaven. He's a young and affable guy, though not terribly bright.

The Villagers: The human inhabitants of Barrelhaven village; usually peaceful enough, but in general rather small-minded, xenophobic, and easily led. The most commonly seen are Wendell the tinsmith and Euclid the farmer.

The Disciples of Venu: Also known as the "Veni-Yan" or, more insultingly, "stick-eaters," they are a group of hooded monks who have dedicated themselves to the study of the Dreaming. They were once the elite warriors of the kingdom of Atheia, but after the war they have the reputation as wandering beggars.

Taneal: A little girl who lives in Atheia; she's a young priestess and shrine-builder who tries her best to keep the faith of Venu going even after it was outlawed.

Taneal's brother: Never actually named in the comic, but he's Taneal's older brother. Smart and resourceful, he knows everyone in Atheia, especially who to bribe in order to get your way.

Teacher: Gran'ma Ben's old teacher; he's an old and somewhat cantankerous old man who runs a small rooftop kitchen and is... not as good a chef as he thinks he is.

Headmaster: The head of the Diciples of Venu and possibly the oldest human character in the comic.

Mermie: A seventh-level "dreaming master" and steadfast alley of Gran'ma Ben.

Villains

The Lord of the Locusts: A nightmare spirit who long ago wanted to escape from dreams and experience the waking world, which he attempted by possessing Mim, the Dragon Queen. He was defeated and imprisoned by the other dragons, but is still able to contact and influence dreamers in the waking world, plotting to be free once more.

The Hooded One: A mysterious hooded figure who's the highest servant of the Lord of the Locust. Spends the first two-thirds of the story preparing for war, and looking for "the one who bears the star," who will aid in freeing the Lord of the Locusts.

Kingdok: The King of the Rat Creatures; a brutish and vicious monster who nevertheless is basically only a puppet for the Hooded One and the Lord of the Locusts.

Rat Creatures: Rat Creatures are the resident monsters of the valley; they're strong and bloodthirsty predators but also incredibly stupid. Encountered in ones or twos they're more comical than scary, but in large numbers they're terrifying. There are thousands of Rat Creatures, but two of them — a duo of foot soldiers — play fairly large roles in the story as Ineffectual Sympathetic Villains who in Quest for the Spark end up having a Heel–Face Turn (as well as getting their own names, "Smelly" and "Stinky.")

Roque Ja: The "Master of the Eastern Border." Roque Ja (and not, as he will constantly remind you, "Rock Jaw") is a gigantic mountain lion who initially sides with the Hooded One and the Rat Creatures because he hates them slightly less than he hates the dragons they oppose.

Lord Tarsil: A former Veni-Yan warrior and ruler of Atheia. He hates dragons with a passion and has outlawed all "worship" of them, including the old religion.

The Vedu: The sect that Tarsil formed; an off-shoot of the Diciples of Venu who follows different teachings and act more like bullies than protectors.

An Animated Adaptation has been in Development Hell for several years. In the '90s, Nickelodeon Movies, having just released the hit film The Rugrats Movie, had an alarmingly misguided vision of what they wanted it to be, and Jeff was the one who bailed out of the deal. The rights were then held by Warner Bros., and the reports on the production team were that Animal Logic, the studio behind Happy Feet and The Matrix, would animate, P.J. Hogan (My Best Friend's Wedding, Confessions of a Shopaholic, the 2003 live-action Peter Pan) would direct, and it would be adapted for the screen by Patrick Sean Smith (ABC Family's Greek). In 2016, Mark Osborne (Kung Fu Panda, The Little Prince) became the new director, while he and Adam Kline replaced Patrick Sean Smith as the screenwriters.

Jeff was initially fighting for traditional 2D animation, since he used to run his own animation studio called Character Builders that contributed to films like Space Jam, and was the studio that was originally slated to animate the film. According to the interview above, Jeff is fine with the change because the outcome of the movie is not in his control, even though he will have executive-producing credit. He STILL remembers his original preference, though, and fans continue to prove this. However, it was not to be. After several years with little progress made (and no release date appearing on Warner Bros.' slate of upcoming animated movies) the rights to adapt the comic went up for sale again.

In 2019, Netflix secured the rights to the franchise with plans to adapt the comic into an animated series. Time will tell if they are successful.

#bone #jeff smith #comic books #fantasy #comics #genre fiction #ideas #inspiration

8 notes · View notes

babysackville · 4 years ago

Text

Monday 4th August 1828

4 50/60

In spite of sprinkling my bed with vinegar bit last night - on the box of the Independent coach at 5 55/60 - stop 5 minutes at the great coach office higher up the street (Argyll street) opposite the tower - stop at 7 ½ at the Hamilton Arms, Hamilton, for 5 minutes but do not change horses till, after passing the fine 5 arch bridge over the Clyde and Evan, stop at Wishaw at 8 20/60 -

A native of Berlin on the coach - said the best part of the scenery on the Rhine was from Cologne to Colmar - he traveled per coach not like our coaches (the German malle poste in fact) carried only 9 passengers from Berlin to Cologne 80 German leagues or 400 English miles - Accum Frederick the book leaf stealing London Chemist, has built a house at Berlin - teaches English and chemistry - Humbolt gave gratis lectures twice a week last winter before the King and such as he chose to admit - going to publish a complete set of his works - set down our Berlinois and an Englishman at Cartland Crags to go down to the stonebyres falls, and stopped at the Clydesdale Inn, Lanark, at 9 50/60 - breakfast off again at 10 ¼ - in 3 or 4 minutes, right, ruined church, old Lanark burying ground - at 10 25/60 on 1 side the road (right) wall of the fir plantation (house not seen) of Bonniton (Lady Mary Ross) on the other (left) Lanark race ground one mile round a nice looking little course - said to be good races here - good red road, made of (said the coachman (sitting on my left) left handed - the 1st left handed coachman I ever saw in my life) burnt stone - all the stone hereabouts red sandstone - fine-ish open country - thorn hedges -

The mail had turned off 6 miles before Lanark and we should get into her road (for a little way) 17 miles from Lanark - at 10 35/60 cross the Clyde, Homeford bridge handsome 5 arch red sandstone bridge - at 10 55/60 sort of moor all round, partly cultivated partly sweet gale and heather closed by the Bigger hills in the distance - at 11 35/60 change horses at Chester Hall Inn (lone house) comfortable Inn enough coach from Edinburgh meets us here - take up passengers and luggage and off at 12 - between Hamilton and Lanark bull without horns, polled, i.e of the Galloway breed - never before saw a bull of this breed - cutting hay grass beyond Chester Hall Inn - Telford did the 8 miles of new road to Lanark and surveyed the whole line [?] from Sterling to Caerlisle 110 miles - at 12 35/60 pass over Duneaton bridge 3 arches over Duneaton river good river - falls into the Clyde just below the bridge -

At 1 12/60 change horse at Crawford - neat white Inn neat small church straw thatched partly blue-slated village - the ruin of Carwford castle (belonging to the Colebrooke family) just on the other side the Clyde (still a goodish river) neither large nor picturesque as seen from the village - more like the ruin of an old gable under house than a regular castle - a few old shabby trees around it and ? at a little distance a neatish white farm house nearly hid among the old trees and farm buildings - at Crawford (thro which the mail passes) the mail-road distance from Glasgow to Caerlisle is marked Glasgow 40, Caerlisle 54 = 94 miles; but the distance we go (vide itinerary) is about 119 miles - on asking the coachman why we did not as I had understood at Glasgow we should, pass thro’ Kilmarnock (22 miles from Glasgow) he merely said the coach did not go that way today - No Beauty in the vale of Clyde from Chester Hall Inn to here (Crawford) bleak, bare hills, goodish sheep-pasture and not very good land bottom - no wood - the hills nearer Crawford and beyond brown heathery wildish and bare a peat moss just on getting out of the village - no orchards all the way from Lanark neither did I see any about Hamilton - why Clydsdale the orchard of Scotland - no part left for it but the 14 ½ miles (charged 15 miles) from Lanark to Hamilton and in the 1st 2 miles from L-[anark] only saw to little orchards when there before -

Off from Crawford at 1 20/60 - at 1 35/60 2 roads that to the left, the mail road to Carlisle - we take that to the right, to Dumfries and pass over 1 arch stone bridge over broadish stream which most at a very short distance fall into the Clyde below - the village of Leadhills or 5 miles from where the 2 roads meet - Leadhills lies between us and Sanguhar (pronounced Sankar) Clyde close left, and handsome 3 arch bridge and Newton, Lord Newton, a good, comfortable-looking square, 3 story, red sandstone house (like an English shooting box) and small village of Ellwell foot consisting of ½ dozen straw thatched cottages and a white Inn - we had had rain but not much, from 11 20/60 from ¼ hour but it began to rain about 1 ¾ and rained very heavily for about an hour, however I was not much wet, I have my tartan cloak which was soaked thru’ wild, bleak, bare road (on the ascent) till about 2 ¾ when we reach the head of the glen of Dalveen where began the property of the Duke of Bucleugh - here too changes the course the waters which on the other side ran towards the glen the German ocean and here ran towards the Atlantic - the Curron run down along the glen - the lofty precipitous green mountains occasionally stripped with shingle, the narrow green glen with its little rapid stream (the Carron), the road gradually descending along the mountain side (made about 14 year ago) fenced off like the Simplon with set stones at 2 or 3 yards distance, the steep height above and the steep depth below, very fine - luckily the rain was rather abating and I could hold aside the umbrella to look about me - not expecting the fine glen perhaps it struck me more - in 10 minutes down the little white one-story Inn and turnpike (lone house) - change horses in 5 minutes and off again at 4 (peats here) in 5 minutes more turn left with the Carron and out of the glen of Dalveen [?] and enter wide bare-hilled valley along the bottom of which the Carron flows down a little shallow glen (as it were within the wider glen) unpicturesque because no wood till a mile or 2 from Drumlaurie castle (duke of Buchleugh) here we get pretty will wooded - a few gentle seats all along here and there from Glasgow but not in general conspicuous enough for me, on the top of a coach to note them down - Drumlanrick castle distance right , old house-like castle conspicuous among woods -

At 3 ¾ island in 2 or 3 minutes more pass thru’ the neat little village of Cornbrig or Thornbrig? (Slates or rather flags put on diamond-wise here and afterwards, because in the common way they will not drain each other so well) wildish, wide country bounded all by ranges of hill - pretty well wooded southwards - red sandstone fence walls and but few thorn hedges here and ever since leaving Dalveen - at 4 change horses at the very good village or nice neat little town (houses chiefly 1 story high) of Thornhill - old fluted column with sort of fret-work capital surmounted by a diminutive looking flying horse - stands on a high, large base a pedestal (hexagon?) 3 steps running all round it - called the market cross - red sandstone town, but mostly washed over and generally white -

Off at 4 10/60 - open habitable, green more populated country - peat moss just below the town - at 4 ¾ come down up the Neth, board good river - (the flat banks seem rather wooded and pretty) pass the 3 brothers (a fine large green oak of 3 exactly similar boles from 1 stock) and at 4 51/60 cross handsome, 3 arch, red sandstone bridge (Algirth bridge) over the Neth, and change horses at 4 55/60 at a mere cottage and little stable 8 miles from Dumfries - at 5 ¼ (little distance left) almost hid among the trees, Ellisland (6 miles from Dumfries) as (as pronounced) the farm occupied by the poet Robert Burns - the house and farmstead still as when he left it - at 5 35/60 see (left) in the distance beyond us peeping from among the trees, the ruins of what the coachman calls the Old College of Dumfries - Cross and Clooton (as pronounced) over 1 large arched red sand stone bridge and pass thro’ the small village of Clooton - prettyish or fineish drive from our 1st coming down upon the Neth to Dumfreis and goodish land 3 or 4 miles from Dumfries - Cross fine 7 arch red sandstone bridge (an older red sand stone bridge of 7 arches at a little distance right also over the Neth) over the Neth (fine river here) and enter Dumfries, and stop at the Kings arms at 6 - very civil people and could have staid there comfortably seems a good inn - excellent hodge podge and some hot roast beef and a little baked pudding but hardly time to eat - dined in 12 minutes - had been quarter hour upstairs changing the paper of my napkin much of my cousin -

Nothing to see in the town, but Burns’ monument in the old church yard - 3 churches (all and town too red sandstone) with neat spires - very nice, neat, pretty town - no trade - depends on its cattle market - great market for pigs from Ireland - Thorn hedges and fertile all (off from Dumfries at 6 ½) round the town - save where the large peat moss just out of the town, and now so accustomed to this can scarce think the comforts of a Scottish town secure with a peat moss - capital road - white villages and houses scattered all around - very few horned cattle - the polled all here abouts i.e the Galloway breed - asked if they were good milk cows, yes! but excellent beef - at 6 55/60 1st turnpike from Dumfries - 2 roads - left 16 miles to Annan - hilly - the mail road - could go the other in as little time, but several gentleman’s seats that way, and ‘it suits’ to have a church on each road - right, our road, 17 miles but pay only ½ toll that way - from here the country plain, flat, not wooded - nor pretty neither picturesque -

At 7 10/60 see the Solway Firth and 2 stooks of oats cut - had ask before why so corn was so much forwarded than the rest, particularly 1 patch of oats quite yellow,and another close to it quite dark green - ‘Oh! because the land’ (of the yellow oats) ‘was lighter’ - at 7 35/60 change horses at the end of the little white village of Clarensfield (as pronounced) - Pass close under the very neat good and small white row of houses called Cumertree and at 8 ½ cross 3 arch red sandstone bridge over the river Annan and enter the good red sandstone but pretty white washed, town of Annan - handsome church steeple - the towns always better as nearer England small coal smoke here - off at 8 40/60 - getting too dusky to see much - disappointed that we do not pass thro’ the village of Gretna Green but change horses at 9½ at a little white Inn by the road side ¼ or ½ mile from the village - the mail changes at the Inn (excellent built by Col. Maxwell to whom Gretna belongs for himself but his wife did not like it so let it for an Inn and it is one of the best on the road) in the village -

At 9 50/60 at the last turnpike in Scotland - the girl gave the coachman whisky - 4/. per gallon duty on it in England, and not drinkable there - so tasted with the coachman by way of adieu to Scotland and her whiskey, thou’ I had been all along the road musing whether to go from Carlisle to Selkirk (6 miles from Melrose Abbey and 60 miles from C-[aerlisle] according to the coachman) per mail which leaves C-[aerlisle] every morning at 7 for Edinburgh - I ought to have gone from Glasgow to Edinburgh and thence by Selkirk, but feared time and knew not exactly the mail-road - almost immediately after leaving the last turnpike cross bridge over the Sark another great stream that here parts England from Scotland - soon afterwards pass the cast iron bridge (one of the 1st of these bridges) over the broad Eske - the tide comes up as far as here - tis called the head of the Solway Firth said our coachman -

Heavyish rain for about 20 minutes before getting into Carlisle - alight at the blank space a second rate sort of not very comfortable coach house at 10 50/60 - by the negligence of the guard my box (caravan) of light things taken off and left at Dumfries - to have at 5 p.m. tomorrow - so I must stay here whether I would or not - about 1 ¼ hours heavy rain early in the afternoon (vide above) but very fine evening from about 5 to 10 ½ and fine morning till it began to look threatening about 11 -

[Left margin: about ¼ hour or perhaps 20 minutes passing the glen of Dalveen - maybe about 2 miles long of fin[?] [?] perhaps a mile of the very fine? the Carron falls into the Neth]

(Diary reference: SH7MLE110041 & SH7MLE110042)

#1828 #august #scotland #anne lister #anne lister code breaker

3 notes · View notes

entergamingxp · 4 years ago

Text

Celebrating Blackness in Gaming’s Past, Present, and Future

June 9, 2020 2:30 PM EST

During times like this, it’s especially important to highlight and celebrate black heroes, casts, and developers themselves in video games.

With what’s been happening in the past and especially in light of current events, it’s important to reflect on the video games that have centered or been inclusive of black characters, as well as games led by black developers. Representation has been an ongoing conversation in video games (and other forms of media), and the desire for new stories told from the perspectives of diverse voices and backgrounds has only continued to grow.

In recent years, more games have been releasing that highlight black characters or have been created by black developers. A large chunk of those games are created by independent developers, who have far more creative freedom to craft the kinds of characters they would like to see in games. Even rarer are games led and published by black developers, with many of these narratives still being told by white creators.

But compared with the amount of white protagonists (and all or mostly white casts) that we often see in video games, there’s still so much work to be done. As we’ve been seeing in the past week, plenty of black creatives have been given the long-due spotlight to showcase their talents as opportunities from companies are finally opening up. I truly hope this will lead seeing more blackness reflected in both the games that we play and their internal development talent.

That said, there have been notable black characters and stories told through video games that are worth highlighting. Below, here are some of the most prominent games of the past several years that either star a black character, have a significant (as in mostly) black cast, or were made by black developers.

Telltale’s The Walking Dead

Many fans were enraptured by the first season of The Walking Dead, which introduced two lead black characters: Lee Everett and Clementine. Their relationship and overall story arc–backed by some seriously powerful writing–gave birth to one of the greatest narratives in gaming I have ever witnessed. After Lee’s death, seeing Clementine grow far too fast as she fights for survival while reconciling her perceived role in her father figure’s death is moving and harrowing. Most of all, Telltale’s The Walking Dead creates a sense of constant urgency and dread that completely sucks in the player and doesn’t let go until the very end.

Mafia III

Set in 1968 New Orleans, Mafia III follows the exploits of Lincoln Clay, a war veteran who aims to build a new criminal organization while seeking revenge on the Italian mob. The game holds an extremely uncompromising gaze at systematic racism while allowing for the black protagonist to empower himself and take back power from those who would strive to oppress him. The characters are compelling, and the setting and story of Mafia III offers a rare gaming experience that interweaves the experience of actual blackness in its narrative.

Chromatose

Chromatose is an upcoming indie title by a black lead developer going by the moniker Akabaka. A visual novel and JRPG blend influenced by Persona 3, it follows the protagonist as he awakens in a strange nightmare after a fall that should have ended his life. Amnesiac strangers are also trapped in this world for their own unique reasons. The haunting visuals filled with strong color contrast convey a tale filled with danger at every turn. Between a captivating and diverse cast, excellent monster designs, and a fast-paced battle system, Chromatose seems to be shaping up to be a gem of an indie game.

Watch Dogs 2

Watch Dogs 2 takes place in a fictionalized version of the San Francisco Bay Area and stars Marcus Holloway, a hacker who works with the hacking group DedSec to take down the city’s advanced surveillance system known as ctOS. Having the black hacker Marcus taking the lead role in this game adds a unique perspective on the plot that deals with fighting back in a system designed to strip away power and silence its citizens. Seeing him fight tirelessly and slowly gain traction against the city government is incredibly empowering and strengthens the overall narrative even more.

Murder By Numbers

For fans of the excellent Ace Attorney series comes an indie game with a similar approach to storytelling, over-the-top characters, and investigative gameplay. Murder By Numbers takes place in 1996 Los Angeles and stars Honor Mizrahi, an actress on a hit TV detective show. Unfortunately, her boss winds up dead just moments after he fires her and she finds herself forced to investigate his murder in order to secure her own innocence. Putting aside the harsh reality of black women being kicked out of their own careers, the game does well in emulating the fun and often ridiculous style of Ace Attorney while establishing its own charm. Much of that charm is attributed to Honor herself, who’s plucky, determined, and resourceful, as well as her interactions with her robot sidekick SCOUT. Murder By Numbers is a fun and lighthearted foray complimented by Picross-style puzzles that’s worth checking out.

Apex Legends

Seemingly (but officially unconfirmed) in response to the Overwatch controversy surrounding its lack of playable black women, the free-to-play Battle Royale game launched with two black women characters: Anita Williams and Ajay Che. Not only that, but these two were and still are front and center in the marketing of Apex Legends, which is very notable. While the game is light on lore (as games in this genre tend to be), both of them have very separate upbringings, personalities, and combat proficiencies. From what we know of them, they have well-fleshed-out motivations for why they fight. And I really love the touch that Ajay is a healer, an archetype you don’t tend to see associated with black women characters.

She Dreams Elsewhere

This indie title is a true rarity in that the entire party is black and stars a black woman protagonist. She Dreams Elsewhere is a surrealist adventure RPG where you traverse protagonist Thalia’s dreamscape along with her friends. She must come to grips with and confront her mental health conditions, and escape from a never-ending coma. One part Undertale, one part Persona, it’s a game made beautiful through its retro simplicity and haunting soundtrack that combines black music such as R&B, funk, and jazz. Not only do we have that level of diversity and culture, but the characters themselves–especially Thalia–are fleshed out and fully-developed. When pitted against the well-designed monsters using abilities grounded in reality, She Dreams Elsewhere truly ups the surrealism surrounding its setting and atmosphere.

EQQO

EQQO is a unique title, in terms of both its passive storytelling and gameplay, as well as the fact that it’s inspired by Ethiopian mythology. This game is the tale of a mother as she weaves a great story of her son born blind yet full of life and love. The puzzle-based exploration and gameplay is presented as a mythological legend slowly unfolding as the mother, playing as the narrator, tells it. Gorgeous orchestrated music complements the visuals in a harmony that gives even more depth to the narrative. Seeing this level of care and detail with a mythology that is rarely represented in gaming gives me hope that the future will bring more games like this one being created and given proper attention.

Cyberpunk 2077

It’s exceedingly rare to find a triple A title’s universe created by a black person, and yet the upcoming Cyberpunk 2077 is just that exception. Mike Pondsmith is best known for his work for the publisher R. Talsorian Games, where he developed a majority of the company’s roleplaying game lines. His most recent project is the collaboration between himself and CD Projekt Red, Cyberpunk 2077, which takes place in his own Cyberpunk RPG universe. Pondsmith’s involvement in the video game’s development mostly focuses on the game world aspect and mechanics as well as his general input, such as shooting a bulletproof backpack to test just how a bullet would react with it; for implementing in the game properly, of course.

Streets of Rage 4

The triumphant return of the wildly popular 2D side scrolling beat-em-up franchise, Streets of Rage 4 stars a cast almost entirely of black/POC fighters including newcomer Cherry Hunter. Wood Oak City falls under the control of a new crime syndicate led by Mr. X’s children, the Y Twins, who are planning on brainwashing the city with the use of hypnotic music. The plot, while simple, is a great excuse to beat up some mooks and the character designs, animation, and music are phenomenal. Also that’s not to mention that Cherry, Floyd Iraia, and Cherry’s father Adam Hunter are featured very prominently on the cover and the general advertising. It’s great to see a beat-em-up starring so many cool black characters.

Earthnight

A love letter to classic fast-paced 2D platformers (think Sonic the Hedgehog), Earthnight uses the genre to tell a tale of a bleak dragon apocalypse where humans have been exiled to space, forced to live in orbit above the planet. Protagonists Sydney and Stanley team up one day and decide to skydive back to Earth, taking out as many dragons as they can along the way. The 2D animations are breathtaking; everything from the ripples in their clothing, to the fluidity of their general movements, to the colorful and insane monsters that can take up nearly the entire screen are stunning. It’s clear there was a lot of love and effort put into this game. I also need to mention how much I love Sydney’s design and the way she’s front and center in the trailers. How can you beat a game that lets you fight dragons because a little girl and a dude had enough?

Broken Age

Broken Age released back in 2014 and 2015 as two separate acts by Double Fine and starred protagonists Vella Tartine and Shay Volta (played by Masasa Moyo and Elijah Wood, respectively). While initially their narratives are completely separate from each other, as the story unfolds you realize how intertwined they really are. What makes the storytelling so satisfying is that because the protagonists are kept separate for so long, their individual character arcs can develop in a satisfying way without interfering in the overall story. Vella, the young black girl, in particular had a very strong and compelling story worth experiencing. In Broken Age, seeing her deal with traumatic events as she fought back against a seemingly unavoidable force of destruction made for an excellent real-life comparison to black struggle.

Here are some honorable mentions of other games featuring black/POC characters that, though they didn’t make my list, are worth checking out:

Assassin’s Creed Origins

Half-Life: Alyx

Afterparty

Treachery in Beatdown City

Where the Water Tastes Like Wine

Dishonored: Death of the Outsider

Beyond Good and Evil

Remember Me

If you’re looking for more black indie talent, check out this Twitter thread as well as this one. For a huge directory of black game developers and their projects, check out the Black Game Developers website and consider supporting them.

And finally if you’re a Black, Asian, and/or Ethnic minority, Code Coven is offering scholarships for their Intro to Game Making Course, which will be open until June 10, 2020.

Are there any games or developers you know of that deserve a mention? Feel free to sound off in the comments!

June 9, 2020 2:30 PM EST

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/06/celebrating-blackness-in-gamings-past-present-and-future/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=celebrating-blackness-in-gamings-past-present-and-future

1 note · View note