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howelljenkins · 5 years ago

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As a muslim Iraqi American with a significant tumblr following, I feel as though I should let it be known exactly where I stand when it comes to Riordan’s statement about Samirah. I have copied and pasted it down below and my reaction to it will be written down below. This will be the first time I have read it. If you want to engage with me or tell me that I’m wrong, I expect you to be a muslim, hijabi, Iraqi American, and from Baghdad. If you are not, I suggest you sit down and keep quiet because you are not the authority on the way I should be represented.

Like many of my characters, Samirah was inspired by former students of mine. Over the course of my middle school teaching career, I worked with dozens of Muslim students and their families, representing the expanse of the Muslim world and both Shia and Sunni traditions. One of my most poignant memories about the September 11, 2001, attack of the World Trade Center was when a Muslima student burst into tears when she heard the news – not just because it was horrific, but also because she knew what it meant for her, her family, her faith. She had unwillingly become an ambassador to everyone she knew who, would have questions about how this attack happened and why the perpetrators called themselves “Muslim.” Her life had just become exponentially more difficult because of factors completely beyond her control. It was not right. It was not fair. And I wasn’t sure how to comfort or support her.

Starting off your statement with one of the most traumatic events in history for muslim Americans is already one of the most predictably bad moves he could pull. By starting off this way, you are acknowledging the fact that a) this t*rrorist attack is still the first thing you think of when you think of muslims and b) that those muslim students who you had prior to 9/11 occupied so little space in your mind that it took a national disaster for you to start to even try to empathize with them.

During the following years, I tried to be especially attuned to the needs of my Muslim students. I dealt with 9/11 the same way I deal with most things: by reading and learning more. When I taught world religions in social studies, I would talk to my Muslim students about Islam to make sure I was representing their experience correctly. They taught me quite a bit, which eventually contributed to my depiction of Samirah al-Abbas. As always, though, where I have made mistakes in my understanding, those mistakes are wholly on me.

As always, you have chosen to use “I based this character off my students” in order to justify the way they are written. News flash: you taught middle school children. Children who are already scrutinized and alienated and desperate to fit in. Of course their words shouldn’t be enough for you to decide you are representing them correctly, because they are still coming to terms with their identities and they are doing this in an environment where they are desperate to find the approval of white Americans. I know that as a child I would often tweak the way I explained my culture and religion to my teachers in order to gain their approval and avoid ruffling any feathers. They told you what they thought you’d want to hear because you are their teacher and hold a position of power over them and they both want your approval and want to avoid saying the wrong thing and having that hang over their heads every time they enter your classroom.

What did I read for research? I have read five different English interpretations of the Qur’an. (I understand the message is inseparable from the original Arabic, so it cannot be considered ‘translated’). I have read the entirety of the Sahih Bukhari and Sahih Muslim hadith collections. I’ve read three biographies of Prophet Muhammed (peace be upon him) and well over a dozen books about the history of Islam and modern Islam. I took a six-week course in Arabic. (I was not very good at it, but I found it fascinating). I fasted the month of Ramadan in solidarity with my students. I even memorized some of the surahs in Arabic because I found the poetry beautiful. (They’re a little rusty now, I’ll admit, but I can still recite al-Fātihah from memory.) I also read some anti-Islamic screeds written in the aftermath of 9/11 so I would understand what those commenters were saying about the religion, and indirectly, about my students. I get mad when people attack my students.

And yet here you are actively avoiding the criticism from those of us who could very well have been the children sitting in your classroom.

The Quran is so deep and complex that its meanings are still being discovered to this day. Yes, reading these old scripts is a must for writing muslim characters, but you cannot claim to understand them without also holding active discussions with current scholars on how the Quran’s teachings apply today.

When preparing to write Samirah’s background, I drew on all of this, but also read many stories on Iraqi traditions and customs in particular and the experiences of immigrant families who came to the U.S. I figured out how Samirah’s history would intertwine with the Norse world through the medieval writer Ahmad ibn Fadhlan, her distant ancestor and one of the first outsiders to describe the Vikings in writing. I knew Samirah would be a ferocious brave fighter who always stood for what was right. She would be an excellent student who had dreams of being an aviator. She would have a complicated personal situation to wrestle with, in that she’s a practicing Muslim who finds out Valhalla is a real place. Odin and Thor and Loki are still around. How do you reconcile that with your faith? Not only that, but her mom had a romance with Loki, who is her dad. Yikes.

First of all, writing this paragraph in the same tone you use to emulate a 12 year old is already disrespectful. “Yikes” is correct. You have committed serious transgressions and can’t even commit to acting serious and writing like the almost 60 year old man that you are. Tone tells the reader a lot, and your tone is telling me that you are explaining your mistakes the same way you tell your little stories: childishly and jokingly.

Stories are not enough. They are not and never will be. Stories cannot even begin to pierce the rich culture and history and customs of Iraq. Iraq itself is not even homogenous enough for you to rely on these “Iraqi” stories. Someone’s story from Najaf is completely unique from someone from Baghdad or Nasriyyah or Basrah or Mosul. Add that to the fact that these stories are written with a certain audience in mind and you realize that there’s no way they can tell the whole story because at their core they are catering to a specific audience.

Yes, those are good, but they are meaningless without you consulting an actual Baghdadi and asking specific questions. You made conclusions and assumptions based on these stories when the obvious way to go was to consult someone from Baghdad every step of the writing process. Instead, you chose to trust the conclusions that you (a white man) drew from a handful of stories. Who are you to convey a muslim’s internal struggle when you did not even do the bare minimum and have an actual muslim read over your words?

Thankfully, the feedback from Muslim readers over the years to Samirah al-Abbas has been overwhelmingly positive. I have gotten so many letters and messages online from young fans, talking about how much it meant to them to see a hijabi character portrayed in a positive light in a ‘mainstream’ novel.

Yeah. Because we’re desperate, and half of them are children still developing their sense of self and critical reading skills. A starving man will thank you for moldy bread but that does not negate the mold.

Some readers had questions, sure! The big mistake I will totally own, and which I have apologized for many times, was my statement that during the fasting hours of Ramadan, bathing (i.e. total immersion in water) was to be avoided. This was advice I had read on a Shia website when I myself was preparing to fast Ramadan. It is advice I followed for the entire month. Whoops! The intent behind that advice, as I understood it, was that if you totally immersed yourself during daylight hours, you might inadvertently get some water between your lips and invalidate your fast. But, as I have since learned, that was simply one teacher’s personal opinion, not a widespread practice. We have corrected this detail (which involved the deletion of one line) in future editions, but as I mentioned in my last post, you will still find it in copies since the vast majority of books are from the first printing.

This is actually really embarrassing for you and speaks to your lack of research and reading comprehension. It is true that for shia, immersion breaks one’s fast. If you had bothered to actually ask questions and use common sense, you would realize that this is referring to actions like swimming, where one’s whole body is underwater, rather than bathing. Did you not question the fact that the same religion that encourages the cleansing of oneself five times a day banned bathing during the holiest month? Yes, it was one teacher’s opinion, but you literally did not even take the time to fully understand that opinion before chucking it into your book.

Another question was about Samirah’s wearing of the hijab. To some readers, she seemed cavalier about when she would take it off and how she would wear it. It’s not my place to be prescriptive about proper hijab-wearing. As any Muslim knows, the custom and practice varies greatly from one country to another, and from one individual to another. I can, however, describe what I have seen in the U.S., and Samirah’s wearing of the hijab reflects the practice of some of my own students, so it seemed to be within the realm of reason for a third-generation Iraqi-American Muslima. Samirah would wear hijab most of the time — in public, at school, at mosque. She would probably but not always wear it in Valhalla, as she views this as her home, and the fallen warriors as her own kin. This is described in the Magnus Chase books. I also admit I just loved the idea of a Muslima whose hijab is a magic item that can camouflage her in times of need.

Before I get into this paragraph, Samirah is second generation. Her grandparents immigrated from Iraq. Her mother was first gen.

Once again, you turn to what you have seen from your students, who are literal children. They are in middle school while Samirah is in high school, so they are very obviously at different stages of development, both emotional and religious. If you had bothered to talk to adults who had gone through these stages, you would understand that often times young girls have stages where they “practice” hijab or wear it “part time”, very often in middle school. However, both her age and the way in which you described Samirah lead the reader to believe that she is a “full timer,” so you playing willy nilly with her scarf as a white man is gross.

For someone who claims to have read all of these religious texts, it’s funny that you choose to overlook the fact that “kin” is very specifically described. Muslims do not go around deciding who they consider “kin” or “family” to take off their hijab in front of. There is no excuse for including this in her character, especially since you claim to have carefully read the Quran and ahadith.

You have no place to “just love” any magical extension of the hijab until you approach it with respect. Point blank period. Especially when you have ascribed it a magical property that justifies her taking it on and off like it’s no big deal, especially when current media portrayals of hijab almost always revolve around it being removed. You are adding to the harmful portrayal and using your “fun little magic camoflauge” to excuse it.

As for her betrothal to Amir Fadhlan, only recently have I gotten any questions about this. My understanding from my readings, and from what I have been told by Muslims I know, is that arranged marriages are still quite common in many Muslim countries (not just Muslim countries, of course) and that these matches are sometimes negotiated by the families when the bride-to-be and groom-to-be are quite young. Prior to writing Magnus Chase, one of the complaints I often heard or read from Muslims is how Westerners tend to judge this custom and look down on it because it does not accord with Western ideas. Of course, arranged marriages carry the potential for abuse, especially if there is an age differential or the woman is not consulted. Child marriages are a huge problem. The arrangement of betrothals years in advance of the marriage, however, is an ancient custom in many cultures, and those people I know who were married in this way have shared with me how glad they were to have done it and how they believe the practice is unfairly villainized. My idea with Samirah was to flip the stereotype of the terrible abusive arranged match on its head, and show how it was possible that two people who actually love each other dearly might find happiness through this traditional custom when they have families that listen to their concerns and honor their wishes, and want them to be happy. Amir and Samirah are very distant cousins, yes. This, too, is hardly unusual in many cultures. They will not actually marry until they are both adults. But they have been betrothed since childhood, and respect and love each other. If that were not the case, my sense is that Samirah would only have to say something to her grandparents, and the match would be cancelled. Again, most of the comments I have received from Muslim readers have been to thank me for presenting traditional customs in a positive rather than a negative light, not judging them by Western standards. In no way do I condone child marriage, and that (to my mind) is not anywhere implied in the Magnus Chase books.

I simply can’t even begin to explain everything that is wrong with this paragraph. Here is a good post about how her getting engaged at 12 is absolutely wrong religiously and would not happen. Add that on to the fact that Samirah herself is second-generation (although Riordan calls her third generation in this post) and this practice isn’t super common even in first generation people (and for those that it DOES apply to, it is when they are old enough to be married and not literal children).

As a white man you can’t flip the stereotype. You can’t. Even with tons of research you cannot assume the authority to “flip” a stereotype that does not affect you because you will never come close to truly understanding it inside and out. Instead of flipping a stereotype, Rick fed into it and provided more fodder to the flames and added on to it to make it even worse.

I would be uncomfortable with a white author writing about arranged marriages in brown tradition no matter the context, but for him to offhandedly include it in a children’s book where it is badly explained and barely touched on is inexcusable. Your target audience is children who will no doubt overlook your clumsy attempt at flipping stereotypes.

It does not matter what your mind thinks you are implying. Rick Riordan is not your target audience, children are. So you cannot brush this away by stating that you did not see the harm done by your writing. You are almost 60 years old. Maybe you can read in between your lines, but I guarantee your target audience largely cannot.

Finally, recently someone on Twitter decided to screenshot a passage out-of-context from Ship of the Deadwhere Magnus hears Samirah use the phrase “Allahu Akbar,” and the only context he has ever heard it in before was in news reports when some Western reporter would be talking about a terrorist attack. Here is the passage in full:

Samirah: “My dad may have power over me because he’s my dad. But he’s not the biggest power. Allahu akbar.”

I knew that term, but I’d never heard Sam use it before. I’ll admit it gave me an instinctive jolt in the gut. The news media loved to talk about how terrorists would say that right before they did something horrible and blew people up. I wasn’t going to mention that to Sam. I imagined she was painfully aware.

She couldn’t walk the streets of Boston in her hijab most days without somebody screaming at her to go home, and (if she was in a bad mood) she’d scream back, “I’m from Dorchester!”

“Yeah,” I said. “That means God is great, right?”

Sam shook her head. “That’s a slightly inaccurate translation. It means God is greater.”

“Than what?”

“Everything. The whole point of saying it is to remind yourself that God is greater than whatever you are facing—your fears, your problems, your thirst, your hunger, your anger.

337-338

To me, this is Samirah educating Magnus, and through him the readers, about what this phrase actually means and the religious significance it carries. I think the expression is beautiful and profound. However, like a lot of Americans, Magnus has grown up only hearing about it in a negative context from the news. For him to think: “I had never heard that phrase, and it carried absolutely no negative connotations!” would be silly and unrealistic. This is a teachable moment between two characters, two friends who respect each other despite how different they are. Magnus learns something beautiful and true about Samirah’s religion, and hopefully so do the readers. If that strikes you as Islamophobic in its full context, or if Samirah seems like a hurtful stereotype . . . all I can say is I strongly disagree.

I will give you some credit here in that I mostly agree with this scene. The phrase does carry negative connotations with many white people and I do not fault you for explaining it the way you did. However, don’t try to sneak in that last sentence like we won’t notice. You have no place to decide whether or not Samirah’s character as a whole is harmful and stereotypical.

It is 2 am and that is all I have the willpower to address. This is messy and this is long and this is not well worded, but this had to be addressed. I do not speak for every muslim, both world wide and within this online community, but these were my raw reactions to his statement. I have been working on and will continue to work on a masterpost of Samirah Al-Abbas as I work through the books, but for now, let it be known that Riordan has bastardized my identity and continues to excuse himself and profit off of enforcing harmful stereotypes. Good night.

#*#og #rr crit #samirah al abbas #rick riordan

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ilguna · 4 years ago

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Metanoia - Chapter Fourteen (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 5k

Warnings; swearing, mention of murder and torture

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

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If the career districts had their hands on books like these, you would have been forced to read them. Mercilessly. Like, a whole couple of units just studying these useless things. They’re mostly published for the Capitol citizens--which is why they’re not supplied in districts--but imagine having everything you could possibly need to know, in a couple of books.

These handbooks are genius. Even if they’re meant for entertainment and not practical use, they’re fucking fantastic.

Every nine years, one of these books comes out. Inside, they have every tribute that had gone in for those nine years--which comes out to be two hundred and sixteen tributes in total. They have the names, ages, weights, heights, eye and hair colors. Who their mentor, stylist, prep team and district representative was, and so much more.

For example, for the year you won, they start with the tributes and their information.

District One, Deimos Chambers. Black hair, brown eyes. He was seventeen, six-foot-one, with a weight of one hundred and seventy five. His mentor was Gloss, and as for the rest, it seems a little unimportant to you. However, his go-to weapon during training was always a sword, and he seemed to be very skilled in hand-to-hand combat.

Which all career tributes are skilled in, but whatever. You’re all taught to be proficient in something, and it’s mainly hand-to-hand. You’ll hardly see a career tribute try and do shit from far away. You know you wouldn’t bother all that much. From far away, you risk the chances of missing, up close, you can kill them in one goddamn shot.

Deimos’ score was a whopping ten, which is basically what all the comprehensive people had gotten. In his interview he wore all black, and when the lights had been shut off momentarily, the glow in the dark constellations came to life. And it wasn’t that bullshit green color either. It was white, and looked like there were actual lightbulbs behind it all, but the stylist was just creative.

It lists the people he chose to be allies with: Alhena, Zeke, and yourself. How many he killed during the bloodbath, which was one. But in total from start to finish it was three to four, counting assist kills. It says how he died, how many days he survived for, and what he placed.

Next is Alhena Hurley. Brown hair, blue eyes. She was sixteen, five-foot-seven, weighing in at one hundred and thirty five. Her mentor was Cashmere, respectively. Her chosen weapon inside of the training center was a mace, and her special note was that she was strong.

“Not emotionally.” you mutter, snickering to yourself as you continue reading.

Alhena got a score of nine, her interview dress was silver, with black specks on it--which is more or less the opposite of what Deimos had. She killed two people in the bloodbath, and that would stay her number for the rest of the games. She died because she got killed on the third day by someone who was hiding in the trees.

On the District One page, it holds both Deimos and Alhena. Pictures of what they wore during the reaping, train station, parade, interview and inside of the arena. Along with their special picture that would indicate that they were dead. The next page holds their family and friend interviews--if they had any--with the questions that Caesar asked and the answers given by their loved ones.

Then, there’s District Two, starting off strong with Zeke. Blonde hair, brown eyes. Seventeen, six foot on the dot, weighing roughly one hundred and sixty pounds. You guys had the same mentor, so it was Enobaria. He was boring and chose a sword, and his special skill was that he was always moving. More or less, he was quick.

Training score of ten, his suit was a bronze color, while the dress shirt was actually black. It was sorta metallic in the light. Zeke managed to kill one person in the bloodbath, and came out to two to three at the end. And he obviously placed second, because you were the one that killed him so that you could win.

And then there’s yourself. (Y/n) Rosecelli, sixteen. You had fairly short hair when you went inside of the arena--just so that it wouldn’t be grabbed and used against you. You were pretty tall, around the recommended weight group--although, that didn’t really matter in the end--and your mentor was Enobaria. Your chosen weapon inside of the training center was the sai’s and your special talent was being a know-it-all.

You scored a ten, got the same metallic bronze color of a dress with the matching black. Inside of the arena you had killed eight people, placing number one. At the very top of the page it says ‘WINNER!’, like it’s some fucked up game and not a fight for your survival.

It had the pictures and interviews as the others did, but with yours it’s extra special. You get the second interview by Caesar and what outfit you had worn for it. A small section for all the highlights inside of the arena, and then the victory tour, with the celebration at the mansion. All the headlines that you had gotten for being inside of the Capitol ‘willingly’.

And there’s also close-up pictures of all the tattoos you had gotten while you were there too.

It makes you sick knowing that they had produced these for entertainment, when it really could have been for the betterment of future tributes. Apart from all the useless shit they had for profiling the tributes, they literally had their battle plans.

Like for Finnick, it says that he used a fishing net while he and the opponent were in water. He’d get them tangled, and then when he was sure they couldn’t hurt him, he’d just kill them with his super expensive trident. And all the tributes didn’t know to be afraid of him until it was too late.

Just like with Johanna too. She played stupid for her entire time inside of the Capitol, and a little bit into the games to draw people in. She purposely scored low on her private training session--which is no doubt a big setback sponsor-wise. But then she became a killing machine, and almost a legend of sorts.

It made tributes wary of those who pretended to be stupid like that. Gave away their entire motive, because Johanna had done it first, and she won because of it. Anyone who did pose a threat early on would get killed.

It’s the exact reason why you went after the District Four tributes when you did. Your games were directly after Finnick’s, and the thought of one of those fish-eating fuckers getting their hands on you like that was terrifying. So, the only way to eliminate the chance of that happening, is to get rid of the only people who really know their way around water, and nets, and fishing.

Finnick likely hated that, the fact that you went after them specifically when you had the chance. However, you know deep-down that he appreciated that you wouldn’t let them suffer. You just wanted them dead immediately to get rid of the chance of them still being alive. You wouldn’t move from the bodies until the cannons had gone off.

Honestly, your allies should have killed you when they had the chance. If you were smart enough to stand over tributes to make sure that they were dead before moving on, that should have been a red flag. Even when they had wanted to leave tributes to bleed out and die, you’d be the one to finish them off.

Not to mention, you marking your arm after every broadcast of The Fallen was a whole new level of insane. And it’s not like they didn’t notice it or anything, they just chose not to point it out. They knew what it was for and all, but they didn’t say anything.

Someone clears their throat, making you look up from the handbook. You’re not really surprised to see Finnick standing there, in the same white scrubs that you’re wearing.

“Good afternoon.” you flip the page, landing right onto the District Four tributes from your games, “Or evening, I can’t tell in this coffin anymore.”

“The nurses tell me you haven’t left your room in a couple of days.” he doesn’t move from the doorway.

You give him a glance, “Why would I? Peeing in my own bathroom is just the same as the one down the hall. Both have cold toilet seats and smell like cleaning products.”

Finnick cracks a smile, coming into the room now, “What’re you reading?”

“Hunger games handbooks.” you hold it up for him to see briefly, “This is the year I won, and these are the tributes you mentored.”

Finnick comes over, and you turn the book so he can read it a little.

Brook Giles, fifteen, five-foot-eight, around one hundred and fifty six pounds. He has bleached brown hair and blue eyes. His training score was a nine, he wore a classic light blue and white suit during his interviews. His go-to weapon was a sword inside of the training center and he died on the first day because you killed him.

“One of my first takeouts,” you watch his face, wondering if he’ll get mad if you talk about it so carelessly, “It was almost fun.”

Finnick meets your eyes, “You were scared, just like the rest of them.”

“I killed him because he reminded me of you.” you then turn to the girl, “And so did she.”

Mira Osborne, sixteen, blonde hair and green eyes. Five-foot-five, one hundred and forty pounds. She wore a white dress that barely went to her knees, some blue accents here and there. She scored an eight, her go-to weapon was a spear. One kill, and only a few days later she’d die because you’d find her hiding in a cove.

“I was fifteen when I watched you win, and I knew that the following year I’d likely be picked to volunteer. I realized that I didn’t know how to swim at all, and the thought of ending up in a net, scared and drowning was more terrifying than anything I had come across up until that point of my life.” you smile, looking at Finnick now, “So, I dug a hole in my backyard, filled it with water and taught myself how to swim.”

Finnick stares, as if he doesn’t know if you’re kidding or not.

You aren’t.

“Of course, as extra precaution I chose to go after them first. Anyone who got in the way was an added bonus to my kill streak. I hunted Mira like she was a fucking deer and I was starving.” Finnick’s silence is what you expected for telling him information like this, and you’re not even done yet, “And had you not been my soulmate, you, Mags, Katniss, Peeta and Johanna would have ended up just like her.

“And I wouldn’t have stopped until you were all dead.”

Finnick straightens up, stiff. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but snaps his mouth shut.

Smug, you smirk, “What? Did you suddenly realize that I’m exactly who I told you I was?”

Finnick turns to leave, and you wait patiently as he goes towards the door frame. But then he grabs the chair by it, and takes a seat. Although, just by looking at his body language, he doesn’t want to be here. And he doesn’t want to let you win this either.

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you flip the book open again, “You’re making a grave mistake.”

“Stop telling me that.”

You glance up, “Is it because you know that I’m right and you don’t want to admit it? You know you’re leaving a nice, capable girl that would love to settle down, have kids and grow old with you. For someone who’s an insufferable bitch that hates the life she’s been given, and everything that she’s ever cared for gets killed or leaves her.”

“Is that why you won’t let me at least be friends with you?”

You take in a deep breath, “No, I don’t want you near me at all because you’re you. You’re Finnick Odair, darling of the Capitol. You’re Finnick Odair, the youngest victor in history who was also given the most expensive gift ever sent inside of the arena.” you laugh, “Oh! And you’re Finnick Odair, the man who also exposed Snow for who he is. Which lets you be in the spotlight more times that you’re worthy of.”

“So you think you’re not worthy?”

It’s like a blinding rage for a split second as you hurl the twenty-five pound book straight at Finnick, “I can’t fucking stand you!”

Finnick catches the book just barely before it hits him in the face, “(Y/n)--”

“No.” you cut him off, “No, you don’t get to pretend like you’re the voice of reason here, because you’re not. I’m a fucking nightmare, and even I know when enough is enough.” You get up and off of the bed, grabbing a hold of the necklace Tanith gifted you. As you begin to leave your safe place, you point at him, “I know what the fuck is wrong with you.

“You hopped from what you think is one broken girl to another. But news flash, Finnick, I’ve lost much more people,” you get down to his eye level, “I lost my entire family when I got home to District Two after I won my games. And it wasn’t just my immediate family, it was distant aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents. Everyone who was even a shred related to me, is now dead. I’m the only one left of my fucking bloodline.”

You stand up now, “Losing Tanith is nothing compared to what I had lost then. I wish I had grown a pair and stepped off the fucking hovercraft to bury her, because doing that wouldn’t have been nearly as much as a hassle compared to dealing with you.”

Finnick doesn’t say anything, and you don’t wait to see if he does either. You go straight out, ignoring the nurses that stare at you, because it really is the first time you’ve left the room in days. Everything is delivered to you, if there’s something you want, they’ll go and get it.

You have a vague idea of where you want to go, just getting there is going to be the problem. Typically, even if you do leave the room, someone will follow you out to keep an eye on you. You remember very vividly, a certain nurse standing at an arm's distance from you, during Coin’s last speech. When she announced the liberation of the prisoned victors.

A joke. This whole place is one fucking circus.

Just as you expected, the floor is pretty vacant. Here and there, someone will wander in and out, but that’s really it. You give a look behind you, confirming that there isn’t a nurse following you just yet. Then, you take off towards the elevator.

You barely remember how that one doctor used it, but it shouldn’t be that hard. You press the button, bringing the lift to you. When it stops and makes the annoying sound, you pull the guard rail up, and then step inside. Pulling it down again, you can see one of the nurses round the corner.

You give her a bright smile, punching the top floor, “Tata.”

The elevator starts moving up, and you give her a wave. Then, she’s blocked out by the cement flooring.

For the rest of the ride up, you cross your arms and wait, staring straight ahead. Your game plan is to head to the woods and don’t stop walking until you’re lost. Hopefully, no one will think to follow you out there.

The elevator stops at the top floor, allowing you to be met face to face with a band of people. They’re pulling up the guard rail before you even have a chance to reach for it.

Katniss is on a stretcher, her sister is hovering over her. Haymitch, Beetee, Gale and Boggs are nearby. Not to mention all the other people behind them.

“Geez.” you move out of the way, allowing Katniss to be wheeled in. Beetee and Gale fit themselves on, but Boggs and Haymitch don’t follow.

There’s not nearly enough room for them all to fit on the elevator, anyway. And apparently it gives Boggs to grab a hold of you before you can escape.

“Where are you going?”

You give him a kind smile, “I was given the okay to clear my head for a little.”

“Why are you still in scrubs, then?”

You make a face, shrugging, “Don’t ask me, they’re the ones that told me I was free to go whenever.”

Boggs doesn’t look convinced, and honestly, neither does Haymitch.

“Fine, I made a breakaway because I can’t fucking stand it in there.” you pull your arm from Bogg’s grasp, “For a district that’s all about equality, I don’t see why it should matter if I come up here to disappear for a little while. Or the fact that I’m being followed around when I do leave my room because you guys think I’m some sort of Capitol bootlicker.”

Haymitch laughs, “Same old (Y/n).”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” you then look at Boggs, “Don’t send anyone to follow me. I’ll come back when I feel like I’m ready to breathe stale air and eat shit for dinner.”

“Had you expressed your distaste for District Thirteen earlier, we might have taken you right back to District Two.” Boggs says.

You raise your eyebrows, “Earlier? When did you go?”

“A couple hours ago.” Haymitch says, “We just got back.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “Great, my only way out of this shithole and I wasn’t even aware of it. It’s funny how you brought the guy in the wheelchair and not the girl who literally grew up there her entire life.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time.” Bogg says, “Enjoy your walk.”

The elevator is back, and they step on. You turn around and leave, heading straight towards the opening. You can already hear the chirps of the birds and you’re nowhere near the door.

You pick up the pace, jogging right past the people that work out here. One of them waves, and you raise your hand in acknowledgement. The smile doesn’t even come across your face until the sun is in your eyes.

You take a sharp left, taking the trail for the most part. When you’re out of the sight of those inside of the building, you slow your pace, taking your time with getting lost.

You’re not even kidding when you say that it’s literal fresh air. This smells and tastes nothing like what goes underground. It’s stale, and out here it’s sweet. It must have rained a couple days ago or something because the plants have that smell to them--petrichor.

After a while, you detour from the trail, heading into the trees some more. You weren’t kidding when you said that you’d like to get lost. Being out here, wandering for hours on end is going to be more entertaining than reading those depressing handbooks. On top of that, you won’t have to see Finnick’s face for a while.

He really does get on your nerves. Him pretending that he knows every single detail about you, and claiming the opposite of what you tell him is pissing you off. You’re a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them. You’d rather be told the heartbreaking truth than have someone lie through their teeth. So, you assume other people like it that way too. It cuts out a lot of unnecessary drama.

Unless it’s another person’s lie, then you’ll play along. If they want to fabricate things for their own gain, then have at it. Who are you to say no to them?

With Finnick, you’ve told him several times, over and over that you can’t stand him. And he acts as if that’s all going to magically change if he forces you to get used to his company or whatever. And you even dumbed it down for him, explained what the deal was. You don’t want him, you don’t need him. You want or need the help.

He doesn’t need to stick around after that wish has been fulfilled. All he’s doing is hurting his own feelings.

At this point, it might just be the challenge of getting you to like him. Show some kind of friendship just so he can drop it. You wonder if you fake it, he’ll finally leave you alone. You might just have to try that out until he realizes that you’ve had an entire personality flip.

Finnick would probably see that it’s a facade but might go along with it just to see how long you can keep it up for.

It’ll be your own personal game. How long can you be nice on the outside and calm on the inside until Finnick does something completely absurd that it makes you flip your shit? The time starts now.

You take a deep breath, going down the hill carefully, because you can clearly see the river. Off to the left some more are shoeprints and the trail that you had supposedly detached yourself from. It doesn’t really matter anymore, as long as you can sit here and be by yourself, you’re fine.

You get as close to the water as possible, taking off the shoes and rolling up the scrubs. You let your legs sit in the water as you lean back on your hands, staring at the scenery. It truly is a beautiful place here, but you’d never want to stay. Even if District Two is in shambles, you want to go back.

It’s your home. It holds so much grief and terror, and yet you just want to be back in the comforts of your own town. You want to see all your old neighbors before your victory. And see Victor’s Village overflowing with people always, no matter how annoying they were.

They’re all dead now. The only surviving victors from District Two is Lyme, and yourself. Everyone else is dead. Enobaria, Neysa, Tanith, Sorcha, Brutus, Edmond, Zavian and everyone else. Lyme had filled you in, that Snow had them all killed, and anyone else who proved valuable went with him.

Lyme and Paylor are lucky to be alive.

You’d literally give anything to talk to one of them again. To relive Tanith showing up uninvited in your house the morning of the reaping. You would have been so much more gentle than usual if you had known that it would have been the last real conversation without gloom hanging over your heads.

At least you’re lucky to say that your final goodbyes to her and Zavian wasn’t terrible at all. You were able to hug them both and tell them just how much they meant to you. Even if it wasn’t really heartfelt for Zavian, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world he could have heard.

And now they’re gone, and you’re still alive.

“Lucky me.” you murmur, finding a rock and tossing it into the water.

It’s funny how you only feel bad after all those people are dead. You would never in your right mind would have ever thought of being kind to those people until now. You’ve got some genuine guilt on your hands.

Edmond and Neysa really had tried to act in your best interest. They knew your limits, but you like to think that you can push it. Like Edmond making sure you’d be sober and not make a fool of yourself in front of all those people at the train station. He wasn’t doing it to restrict you. And even though he didn’t show it the best way, you could have at least tried to understand.

Neysa just wanted you to get good allies. She wanted to give you a fighting chance, and had you just followed what she wanted, you wouldn’t have been so waist-deep in shit with distrust from Finnick’s alliance. She knew something you didn’t when it came to the fact that you shouldn’t go off alone inside of the arena.

And yet you like to be independent.

There’s a crunching of leaves beneath boots, making you dip your head for a moment. You sigh through your nose, raise your head and then look over your shoulder. It’s exactly who you thought it would be, but he’s not wearing those white scrubs anymore. He’s also got some clothes draped over his arm.

You squint at him, “Are you wearing a suit?”

“Not the reaction I was expecting.” Finnick’s got his signature smile on his face, showing off his dimples.

You turn away before you can say something mean.

“I figured you’d rather run away in something much more fashionable.” Finnick stops behind you.

“How’d you know?”

You stare at the water for another moment, before pushing yourself up, brushing off the dirt from your butt, knowing full well that it’s still going to be there. In Finnick’s hands sit some familiar ripped black jeans, but a navy blue shirt.

“I see they have a pattern.” you hold up the shirt to see, “And it has a breast pocket too.”

“The pink shirt was thrown away since you destroyed the hem.”

“I was anxious.” you reason, placing the shirt back.

You take off the white scrub shirt, making Finnick turn his head away. A smile appears on your face, because he acts like he literally hasn’t seen you naked before--cough cough, after you got bit by spiders. Butt ass naked, it wasn’t just Finnick who saw you completely nude. You flashed the whole fucking country.

They probably couldn’t keep that in, and had to change the camera perspective after that.

You pull on the shirt, and then you pull off the bottoms, being sure to wipe your muddy feet on them to clean off your feet.

“So what made you follow me out here this time?” you ask, taking the jeans and pulling them on.

“Your stunning personality, as always.” Finnick looks over now, “And the fact that Haymitch and Boggs wanted me to follow you out here. I tried to tell them it wasn’t the brightest idea, but they had me do it anyway, gave you a thirty minute head start first, though.”

“Smart of them. I’m assuming you saw Katniss, then?”

“Seems like she’s been taking hit after hit lately.”

“Imagine getting strangled by your fiance.” you laugh, and Finnick joins in.

“Imagine getting punched by your soulmate.” Finnick gives you a look.

You roll your eyes, “Okay, you have to admit that you deserved it.”

“Whatever makes you feel better about yourself.”

You press your lips together, stomping your foot into the boots since you’re too lazy to untie them. You repeat the process with your left foot, which takes a lot longer. Finnick just laughs at you the entire time, since you refuse to go down and fix it yourself.

“Let’s get serious for a moment.” you look at Finnick, and he looks a little afraid, “It’s nothing bad, you might even think I’m lying for a second.”

“That’s not--why would you say that?” he laughs.

You take your dirty scrubs from his hands, “Because I think ahead.” you tap the side of your head, “Anyway, I honestly want to apologize for what I said earlier.”

Finnick’s eyebrows skyrocket, and you can’t help but to laugh, “You’re being serious?”

“I am.” you start towards the trail, “And I would also like to apologize for everything that I’ve said before that. And all my actions too, like if I punched you or threw something at you.”

“Where’s all this coming from?” Finnick asks, “I mean, I accept but you gotta tell me why.”

You look at him, “I was thinking before you came out here--obviously--that people aren’t really out to get me. I don’t have to be independent and fight by myself anymore, not when there’s people with the same… struggles. You get it, right?”

Finnick’s impressed, “I do.”

“You know, a genius once told me that I’m not as dislikable as I like to think.”

It takes Finnick a moment before it clicks in his head. He’s the one that said it to you.

“A genius, huh?”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

He nods, “Well, if we’re apologizing for things--”

“We’re cool, you don’t have to.”

Finnick ignores you, “--I’m sorry for approaching you so strongly.”

“You thought that it was the only way to get through to me, I get it. If someone has their walls up, sometimes the only way to get them down is if you meet their energy.”

“Do I even know you?” Finnick laughs.

“Oh, the glory of having an epiphany.” you smile, giving him a look, “So what are we dressed up for?”

“Your newfound freedom.”

“The fuck?” you laugh.

“Haymitch and Boggs convinced Coin to get you a little more freedom, which means that they weaseled me in too. We get a dorm, get to eat with the others and we can come up here whenever we want.”

“I have a feeling this is a little bit of bullshit.”

Finnick chuckles, “How did you know?”

“You can’t deceive me, I see through most of the shit you and your buddies do. I pay attention. I knew you, Johanna and the others were in an alliance before it was formed. And I also knew that you were planning a rebellion, and all you asked is if I was a loyalist.” you get back to walking, “You could even say that I’m a little insightful.”

“I’ll give you that one.” Finnick agrees, “Also, before we go back inside, you should know something else.”

“What did you do this time?” you look at Finnick.

He’s stopped walking, and so you do too, “I’ve ended things with Annie completely.”

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair metanoia #metanoia #metanoia chapter fourteen

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bonaintan · 4 years ago

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A Journey to KGSP/GKS: Study Plan

After a very long while, I finally managed to post this! This, I guess is my final post on A Journey to KGSP/GKS Series. I’m still considering whether or not to make a post about the interview. I’m not sure I can cover this topic well since my experience is limited to the interview session in the Korean Embassy. Even I heard that each Embassy has its own way of conducting the interview, including the questions given. Anyways, on this post, I’ll be sharing on my experience in writing a study plan (or statement of purpose for the Graduate degrees) for the GKS Application. If you just started preparing the GKS Application, you may want to check my previous posts on the guideline to the application forms and personal statement essay or read my experience in applying for the 2016 KGSP/GKS-G.

So, as we’ve known, a study plan is another important stage to showcase the applicant’s ability in planning his study in Korea. One needs to explain his/her plans before coming to Korea when doing the study in Korea, and after graduating from the Korean university.

Study Plan template (2021 GKS-Undergraduate Application)

Statement of Purpose template (2021 GKS-Graduate Application)

When preparing for the application back in 2016, I tried to find as many resources as possible. I joined the KGSP Global Applicant Facebook group, searched awardees from Indonesia and other countries online through Facebook and Instagram, and contacted them to discuss their experience and ask for some advice. I then found Mas Nasikun’s blog, a KGSP awardee from Indonesia who did his Master’s degree program at Seoul National University. I was especially very grateful for his posts on how to write a study plan. His posts on KGSP Application are still there and anyone interested in applying for this scholarship will surely find it very useful.

Here I’m making a kind of brief guideline in writing a study plan. I divide them into plans before, during, and after studying in Korea.

Plans before going to Korea. Here, you need to write down things you have been doing and will be doing before going to Korea. This mostly covers Korean language preparation. I believe that ‘taking Korean language courses’ shouldn’t be necessarily on the list. There’s a bunch of fun ways to learn a language, especially the Korean language. What is better than watching Korean TV shows and being whipped by the actors and actresses? (Not watching one?) Okay, if you still doubt whether you should start learning the language by now, I urge you to do so unless you just apply for fun and ‘luckily’ see yourself get a seat at the end. Especially for those who never got anything related to Korea, get yourself used to how Korean language sounds is an important first step that will take you further lightheartedly. I met people who hardly heard the Korean language until they reach the country, and they struggled within one-year language training which I believe could have been less tormenting and fun instead. One year is short if not to say insufficient, trust me.

I was far from fluent when applying for this scholarship program (well, I still am), but I wasn’t unfamiliar with the language either. If there was only one effort in learning the language that I invested the most, it was listening to Korean songs. I wasn’t into K-dramas before coming to Korea, and I could barely make any time to go to a language center. I started learning Hangeul (Korean alphabet) while preparing for the application but just started self-teaching on basic grammars around 2 months before my departure in August. I wasn’t confident in mastering the language in one year, plus my over-anxiety told me to do something to lessen my stress in the future. Still, I knew I should’ve started earlier.

So, you need to explain that any plans during this time are to prepare you for life in Korea and of course the degree program. Here, you also need to mention your goals during the language training program. You may divide it into two semesters; what things you will do and the level of Korean proficiency you aim in the first and second half. There are many programs you can participate in during language training, such as the Buddy program, voluntary work at Korean schools, cultural festivals, etc. You may do your research and mention what you’re mostly expecting to do to improve your Korean skills.

Plans during your study in Korea. This section is a little bit different for GKS-U and GKS-G applicants AND applicants via Embassy and University Track. GKS-U applicants are provided a separate section for this part whereas, for GKS-G applicants, this part is combined with the plan before coming to Korea. Regardless, the best way to deliver this part is by setting a timeline for your plan, either per semester or per academic year.

For GKS-U applicants, I personally think that you can simply mention the number of credits in total to graduate and the average number of credits every semester. As for the course, you can mention some courses you’re particularly interested in and the reason (for example, those courses are in line with the topic interest of your final project/thesis, or they will be beneficial for your future career). These are basic information, so make sure you check the curriculum and graduation requirements! Other things to include are plans on taking short-term courses during summer/winter break and organizations/clubs/other student activities you will want to join (check on the university/department website for reference). Don’t forget to elaborate on why you need these activities (project it to your future goal).

For GKS-G applicants, I recommend writing down your study plan per semester since dividing into two academic years may limit the details. Depending on the major, you may set different goals each semester. Generally, I believe, the first semester would be the time to strengthen your fundamental knowledge regarding your field of study while adapting to the Korean education system. Some may have chances to start consulting with their academic advisor/professor even working in a lab. In the second semester, you may need to start working on your research plans. Here, you may briefly explain the thesis research you want to do. Most Master’s degree programs in Korea require a thesis for graduation so make sure you prepare one. Unless you’re applying for the Research Program, no need to go very detail on this. Three important points to include when explaining your research plan: what the research topic is, why you want to work on it, and why Korea and/or your university choice is the best place to carry out this research. In the third semester, you will probably need to sit for a comprehensive exam and start conducting your research. For social science and humanity students, you should prepare the ethical clearance application by the end of this semester or during the semester break so that you can start conducting your research, especially, collecting the research data, as the new semester begins. Finally, you may wrap up your final semester by completing the thesis and publishing or submitting a research article to a journal (some departments have it as part of graduation requirements).

For Embassy track applicants, I don’t think you need to elaborate on your 3 university and major choices and the reasons behind every choice. You likely apply for similar if not the same major. Despite different names, the focus study should be the same and that’s what you need to elaborate on. What I did back then is briefing the reason I applied for that major (I already mention it in the Personal Statement so I just briefly explain it here) and what topic of study I will focus on my thesis research. For university track applicants, you may explain the reasons for applying to the major and the university of your choice and your study plan followed by the plan each semester.

Plans after graduating from a Korean university. The keyword for this part, I believe, is future career. And the best way to show the reviewer your enthusiasm and your visionary side (regardless of how vague the future life is yet), is to name your future goal. I think telling what kind of job you aspire and some motivations behind it would work. Another important point to include is whether you will return to your home country or stay in Korea after graduation, accompanied by things you will do afterward. Again, this part may seem vague for some, especially for GKS-U applicants. Still, you need to make it as detail as possible, regardless of whether you’ll change it someday in the future or whether it seems unattainable for now. Dream big! If you plan on going directly to a graduate school, briefly explain what motivates you to continue your study and what field of study you’re going for. For GKS-G applicants, I guess their work for this part shouldn’t be too difficult as some are likely to already have a job and/or know where they’ll go after receiving the degree.

----

I hope you find this post helpful and may as well be a reference for writing your study plan. Best of luck with your GKS application and your study in Korea.

#korean government scholarship program #KGSP #global korea scholarship #GKS #studyinkorea #Korean Scholarship #scholarship for graduate programs #scholarship for undergraduate programs #student life #university life in korea #SouthKorea #studyplan

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purpureumwrites · 4 years ago

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Darth Vader x Reader | Twin Moons | Chapter 2

A/N: Not gonna lie, it’s kind of a slow fic. I’m mainly concerned about writing this without falling into out of character, which is fairly easy since none of this would ever actually happen in canon. It’s a delicate balance. Anyway, if anyone has any suggestions for headcanons or short stories about any other universe just let met know! ^^

Summary: You and Vader get to know each other. He would never admit it, but he might find you kind of interesting. Training begins.

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 , Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Warning: None.

Word Count: 1092.

Tagged: @shads121

Only once had you travelled across space and not on a ship as massive as this one. The Executor, as you had heard some of the officers call it, was Lord Vader’s vessel. His name you had also learnt when others approached him, he hadn’t bothered to waste any words in doing so. When some uniformed worker guided you away, he showed no sign of acknowledgement.

In the last few days, you didn’t see him. You had been given a uniform, some instructive books about the history and achievements of the great Galactic Empire and a small chamber in the maze that the ship seemed to you. Through the steel walls, pipes and wiring, you kept sensing his presence and, to your surprise, not just his, there were others less intense.

Truth be told, you had never met anyone with powers like yours before. The idea of finding more was exciting but you could feel, somehow, that they wouldn’t be as thrilled by the idea.

That afternoon, a young man gave you a message from Lord Vader. You were to meet him in an hour.

When you got to the room, Vader was standing in front of a window, staring into the stars. He heard your light steps getting closer and stop a few feet from him. He was pleased by how you had become aware of his position and the respect you had to show all by yourself. And more importantly, he could feel the force flowing strongly through you. It wasn’t like most. He quickly understood, since you had no comprehension of the concept, that you hadn’t been taught about the light or the dark side and the result was an unsettling balance between both.

“Closer”

You took three careful steps towards him.

“Now that you have learned enough of the Empire, you’re ready to learn the ways of the force. You haven’t refused any of our requests until now. Why is that?”

You stared at his back.

“I… had been alone for years. All I had was what you call the force, the temple and the sea. It was enough, it spoke to me, it kept me company.” you paused for a second, reflecting. “When I saw you walking out of the temple, it felt right to follow. I can’t really explain it.”

“The will of the force”

You shrugged. “I guess. I’ve sensed others like us, in the ship.”

“They have their own mission. You will not be training with them.” He answered as he turned around in time to see your shoulders fall in disappointment. “You… are my responsibility now.”

The next weeks were dedicated completely to studying the force and its complexity. The pieces were falling in place, concepts and sensations that didn’t have a name before now did, all thanks to this group called the sith and their knowledge. They seemed a bit extremist to you, but that explained how things were done around here.

Once Vader decided your theoretical knowledge was extensive enough, he called you to a big room. There, you spent hours meditating, reaching people and places he asked you to with the force, lifting heavier objects each time… Even then, it didn’t feel like training. You had watched, secretly, the inquisitorious practice. It wasn’t pretty. It didn’t take you too long for you to find out that the mechanical limbs they had were a result of their training with Vader. In the following session with him, you couldn’t help but worry if at some point you would have to suffer such loss. He didn’t say anything, but he did notice your hesitancy. He knew why, your secret trips might go unnoticed by the rest of the crew, but he knew everything that happened in his vessel. In fact, he was amused by it.

Judging by how easy you had complied to every order, he quickly assumed you would be submissive, easy to control. He was secretly pleased when he realized you had been watching the inquisitorious after being told not to. But it also raised the question of how much rebelliousness you could be actually hiding and how many doubts you were keeping. That was the purpose of all those sessions, as he was sure you had already noticed, to test the extent of your powers and your character.

He took advantage of your inexperience to collect some details. He didn’t want to barge into your mind yet, as you would probably notice. But he was able to collect some glimpses. Something about you were a mystery. Why would you be all alone, away from everything? How did the Emperor come to know about you? What was happening in that temple of yours? His master had given him little information about you. Yet another test for his apprentice, he assumed.

It usually irritated him to waste so much time training someone, especially if he didn’t know the outcome of it. In your case, it turned out it didn’t bother him that much. You were usually silent unless you really needed to say something. No small talk, no trying to appeal to him. You caught up very quickly with his mood and intentions, though that was mainly the work of the force.

It always surprised him how it flowed through you. You had no concept of the light and dark side, and even after all the reading and studying, you didn’t seem to be able to channel one specifically. That realization reassured him. He would never have to worry about all the trouble that entailed teaching a future sith. You would never be able to become one. But you could become tremendously powerful, free from the burden of the jedi’s and sith’s concern from turning to the other side, from the rules of the institutions. He just had to find the appropriate leash to keep you loyal.

After a few weeks, he informed the Emperor of his conclusions. You were very talented. Your lack of fighting skills was compensated by the strength you showed in the manipulation of the force. Even if you would never wield a lightsaber, it would be wise to teach you the basics.

Darth Sidious listened patiently to his apprentice. He could tell. He may not like the girl yet, but he tolerated her, he might be even curious about her. Unusual for Vader. If it didn’t weaken him and her potential was used for the sake of the Empire, he didn’t really care. He sent him on his way with the mission of beginning her real training.

#darth vader x reader #darth vader #darth vader imagine #darth vader headcanons #star wars imagine #star wars headcanons #star wars x reader #darth vader twin moons #twin moons

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script-a-world · 5 years ago

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Clearly there are some settings which make no sense scientifically. But how do I decide when to intentionally ignore reality, can't bother to do research, don't understand research, and thus create scientifically impossible places? When are such things considered be offensive or overused cliche or have a reader point out the impossibility and can't get into the story? I'm guessing some of this might be structural issues instead of world building?

Tex: One of the perils of attempting to write about highly technical subjects is that you run into the issue of not understanding your writing. I do raise a nominal objection as your first sentence, because sensibility is a sliding scale based on one’s familiarity with a given subject. I don’t know crap about, say, textile art (however much I might have bluffed readers in the past - no, no, this is just good googling skills on my end), but that doesn’t mean the textile arts are an inherently incomprehensible subject.

Scientifically, automobiles were once thought to be insensible. Scientifically, phones were thought to be a flight of fancy. Scientifically, 3D printing was improbable. Scientifically, quantum computing was the stuff of sci-fi nerds who just wanted to slap the “quantum” label on everything.

And yet we are now on the verge of robotic vehicles, mostly functional smartwatches, laser printing cells (PDF), and quantum computers (VentureBeat, IBM).

So I would argue that the insensibility of a setting would be due mostly to, yes, a structural issue - on the part of the author. No matter what you put into your world, internal consistency is key; nothing, no matter how ostensibly outlandish, will make sense if you contradict yourself.

I’ll volley a few questions back to you:

“[...] when to intentionally ignore reality” - Are you ignoring reality entirely, or just parts of it? Why? How does that decision benefit your world? How does it detract from your world?

“Can’t bother to do research” - Is it because you are discouraged by the breadth of your comprehension of a subject, compared to the subject’s depth? Or is it because of something else?

“Don’t understand research” - Is this because you don’t understand the academic papers that turn up in your search results, or because you have a fundamental lack of or misunderstanding of the given subject? Or is it because of something else?

“When are such things considered to be offensive or overused cliche” - As someone who intentionally arranges their studying around the plausibilities of the future, I would quite frankly be delighted to see more conceptual stretches of the imagination in this regard, as do many others on this blog, and beyond it. Why have you already passed judgement on the offensiveness or clichéd-ness of incorporating scientific things? Is this related to your other comments?

“[...] or have a reader point out the impossibility and can’t get into the story?” - If you are writing to please a specific individual or demographic, you are inevitably always going to fall short, because it’s genuinely impossible to meet every single item on a group’s wishlist without devoting your life to it (not an entirely worthy pursuit, in my opinion, but alas). What made you decide to be so concerned over the potential reaction to your stories that you worry about it before the story is even written?

I think I will put the majority of my curiosity’s weight on the last bullet point, as I’m seeing similar themes with the other portions of your question. It’s a fruitless endeavour to tie yourself into knots over a possible (not necessarily probable!) reaction - and quite likely from a stranger, to boot. Education is a relatively easy situation to fix, so long as you’re patient with yourself; dealing with anxieties over readers is… not so easy.

I can really only recommend that you take a close look at the goals of your worldbuilding, and see where you contradict yourself - once you have that in hand, it’s a relatively simple yes/no process of what concepts you want to keep. If the issue of decision comes from a lack of understanding, then make a note to yourself to seek out either the million wikis we Pylons utilize ourselves like any other worldbuilder, or to chalk it up as a genuine lack of context.

Please understand that even someone who’s dedicated their life to a certain aspect of science won’t know everything about it - that’s the point of research! We’re constantly asking ourselves questions, and pushing the envelope of known boundaries. Star Wars has lightsabers, but we don’t need to know how they work; likewise with holodecks in Star Trek. So long as an audience is reasonably entertained with the least amount of head-scratching, you can get away with handwaving quite a lot.

Lockea: On a scale between Star Trek and Star Wars, how “hard” is your science fiction?

I mention that mostly to illustrate that science fiction exists on a continuum, wherein science fiction with more “science” than “fiction” drives a story towards the harder end rather than the softer end. Also, a story’s place on the continuum will change based on what we know and understand about science.

I feel like everyone always beats me to saying all the important stuff about questions, so I’ll just give a few thoughts from my personal experience as a science fiction fan with two engineering degrees and a thesis about robots on the moon (yes really, I wrote my thesis on AI for moon robots). I really, really, love the creativity of science fiction writers. I think so often in defending the genre, we can get caught up in saying things like “science fiction predicted XYZ!” Well, sure, I may have studied Isaac Asimov’s three laws of robotics in my introduction to engineering ethics course, but I was also greedily reading my way through “The Hunger Games” by Suzanne Collins at the same time. The fact that I sincerely doubt Panem will ever happen didn’t dampen my enjoyment of Katniss’s story. It was a fun read and it gave my friends and I something to talk about that wasn’t “feasibility of Battlestar Galactica” during our daily lunches.

The thing about writing science fiction is that, without a doubt, there will be someone who knows more than you about a topic who reads your story. Most of the time, I end up being that someone since everyone likes to talk about Skynet and robots taking over the world to a roboticist who sincerely refers to artificial intelligence as artificial stupidity. Y'all are seriously overestimating the field, my friends. Nonetheless, I still enjoyed “Captain America: The Winter Soldier” even as I thought how impossible Project Insight would be. Honestly, something every READER of science fiction needs to make peace with is the fact that writers will get something wrong. Writers, despite their best efforts, are not always going to understand that a facial recognition algorithm will fail if you introduce tiny amounts of random noise and are thus going to treat The Algorithm™ as infallible in your crime drama novel.

It’s not the writer’s fault, though.

That deserves to be on its own line. It is not YOUR fault if you get something wrong. Would it be nice if science literacy was just better all around? Of course! But it’s not your fault if your science literacy isn’t up to snuff enough to parse the article I cited above. It’s also not your job. Your job as the writer is to tell the most interesting story you can and to maintain your own internal rules and logic such that the reader never breaks the willing suspension of disbelief.

I watch Star Wars and get really into the light saber fight scenes and forget that light sabers are basically impossible to make. Star Wars has the Force, which is basically magic, and that’s okay. Really. I KNOW it’s not possible, but I still have a lot of fun watching it!

So yeah, write that story about how the robots are going to take over the world. I’ll probably enjoy reading it even as I laugh off my friends telling me that I will be the first to die in the robot apocalypse (of course I will -- I have five robots in my living room alone).

Constablewrites: Tone and consistency are the biggest pieces of this for me. If it’s the kind of story where the answer to “How does this work?” is usually a detailed and plausible explanation, then getting an answer later that is implausible or slapdash will stand out more. But if it’s the kind of story where the answer to “How does this work?” is “You push that button and it goes whoosh” from the start, my expectations adjust accordingly. (It’s possible to have the latter version in a story that is mostly the former, frequently when it’s played for last. Again, tone is key.)

So yeah, a lot of this is execution and the way the story sticks to the rules it sets for itself, and also how central the implausibility is to the story. A realistic thriller that relies on cartoon logic for a background bit might be a little jarring, but not nearly as much as a realistic thriller that relies on cartoon logic to set up its main showdown. The more central it is to the story, the more consistency and accuracy matters. Learning how to balance this can take some practice and some insight from beta readers.

#pylons #research #believability #worldbuilding #Anonymous

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twilight-seer · 4 years ago

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Gaining Trust

How do you gain the trust of other people, especially the ones with serious trust issues? This article shall highlights the answers for this question.

Building trust in a friendship, relationship, or therapy and counseling clients can sometimes be difficult, annoying, and seems like a never ending work. You know that you are trying your best to be friendly, compassionate, and understanding, but why does it doesn’t seem to work?

In this article, would be using some external sources and information to facilitate the brainstorming and synthesis of the answers into a well-organized steps and methods needed to build trust.

To be able to build trust, one must learn the skills of active listening, but what is active listening?

According to Wikipedia, active listening is:

Active listening is a technique that is used in counseling, training, and solving disputes or conflicts. It requires the listener to fully concentrate, understand, respond and then remember what is being said.

Active listening involves listening with all senses. As well as giving full attention to the speaker, it is important that the ‘active listener’ is also ‘seen’ to be listening - otherwise the speaker may conclude that what they are talking about is uninteresting to the listener.

Interest can be conveyed to the speaker by using both verbal and non-verbal messages such as maintaining eye contact, nodding your head and smiling, agreeing by saying ‘Yes’ or simply ‘Mmm hmm’ to encourage them to continue. By providing this ‘feedback’ the person speaking will usually feel more at ease and therefore communicate more easily, openly and honestly.

It will take me lots of time to compile all the other ambiguous and repetitive steps in active listening, I will just create my own version.

Active listening is listening to understand, not to respond.

Understanding requires a degree of empathy, comprehension, and memory retention.

Questioning, Reflection, and Thoughtful Responses are the ones that signifies and serves as evidence for active listening.

Be aware of the other person’s intentions and see if they really want to talk, vent their feelings, of if they want to know more about you before doing active listening.

Active listening is only one of the steps for gaining the trust of other people, it is a simple and effective step, but without the other methods, it won’t be able to gain the trust of others alone.

Trust is such a fragile thing. As fragile as a woman’s heart, and a person’s ego.

A person whose trust is already broken won’t be able to heal as quickly nor as completely.

Your job is not to make their trust issues go away, but to put them aside for a while so you can have a good conversation without the same “I don’t do that, I don’t trust this and that” kind of thinking. You can do them with the following methods:

Active listening - Listening intently and patiently to the other person.

Neutral Compassion - Understanding their negative and weird point of view but not confirming it neither insisting your point of view. Similar to how a mature dad talks with his old mature son.

Tactfulness - Proper wording, structure, and language when communicating to the person to prevent as much misunderstandings as possible by addressing technicalities, making intentions clear, and solving future misunderstandings.

Openness - Becoming open-minded and not easily shocked by anything, as if you are an old sage who have understood and seen all that is there to be seen in the world, that you know the feelings that lie deep inside the person’s words and actions.

Sincerity - Speaking in a gentle, calm, and relaxed manner made to make your intentions perfectly clear and good without the need to directly say it to the other person. Shows your desire to understand, help, or support the person you are talking with, usually combined with Empathy.

Enthusiasm - A more energetic form of Sincerity, it is being cheerful, optimistic, and a fun person to spread positive energy, infect others with happiness, and become a living proof that the world isn’t all dark.

Vulnerability - Showing and expressing your emotions, weaknesses, and suffering to other people, not for them to laugh at it, but for them to appreciate and acknowledge how strong and courageous you are to become a “human” in this world where they loathe their own species. It helps the person to understand in a more subtle yet clearer way, that it’s okay and perfectly fine to trust other people.

Good grief, that’s a lot of skills. I won’t be able to get them all in a single session or a ten session of experiments and operations. Many of them are against my own character so it will take a long time for me to get accustomed to it. Well we got an entire lifetime to learn it so let’s do this.

I think we are still missing the most important thing in building trust… I wonder what that is.

Is that love? professionalism? No it’s not that.

It’s time.

Time is the most important and essential thing in building trust and physical buildings or constructions. It accounts up to 35% of the chart of trust, being the highest out of all the contributing factors in building trust. But wait, what’s this “chart of trust”?

The chart of trust is:

35% - Time

20% - Active Listening

13% - Tactfulness and Openness (Comprehension and Linguistic ability)

12% - Neutral Compassion (Gentleness)

10% - Sincerity

5% - Vulnerability

5% - Enthusiasm

To explain and give the rationale for this chart, it would be wise to give an example, a situation or- Understand how difficult it takes to build the trust for those with extreme trust issues.

In a case study I’ve recently read before, there’s this woman who went in therapy and spent many weeks and sessions with the therapists saying how she cannot express herself or answer the question because of her own trust issues.

So instead of asking questions or directing the therapy, she let the patient express herself. Sometimes, they would spend many hours doing nothing in the office, and won’t start the session until the patient finally got bored and start to speak for herself.

(Note: This isn’t a good idea when you’re not a therapist or neither did the patient willingly come to you to help her face the issues and problems. Doing nothing for a long time might make the person come to the conclusion that you are uninterested and a waste of time, so it is suggested that instead of doing nothing, they would do gentle and light activities that subtly remind the person of their own problems until they get comfortable enough to express themselves such as listening to music, story telling, or playing light games.)

Then the time came where she finally got comfortable enough to express herself, she got angry, expressed sadness, and despaired about the events that was crippling her mind for many years.

But what did the therapist do? No, he didn’t immediately controlled the direction of the session, neither did he just passively observed the woman, instead he complimented her ability to express herself and that he is interested on it by using first person pronouns and self-expression words.

Oh geez this is getting boring but you get the point. I’ll skip to the main content.

These people with the highest trust issues are one of the most broken humans in the planet. Always trying to gather themselves and fix it, but no matter what they do the sand falls outside their hands, unable to take any shape without a container. Technically, they are already “broken” in a sense, but in order to continue living, all humans must believe that they are alive and whole, thus creating the holographic illusion of a glass shattered with cracks on the inside and outside, being hold together by lots of duct tape and glue. This illusionary and projected sense of self is what they believe they are, so instead of acting like a broken corpse, they strive to act like an extremely fragile and technically dead versions of themselves to continue living.

So it is of utmost importance to handle them with care, to treat them in the gentlest way possible, and allow them to take all their time in the world. This may seem easy while reading this article, but this is one of the most difficult thing that some humans have to do, which is many levels of difficulty than a triple 280 degree air screwdriver backflip combo.

It takes lots of time and patience so if you haven’t experienced waiting for at least a year or two for something trivial but important to you, then it would be almost impossible. Patience is a legendary skill, being the only active skill that doesn’t have any cooldown and whose effects transcends time and space. You will need lots and lots of time, commitment, and perseverance to acquire that skill, so yeah, that’s the point it won’t be easy.

Now you may start think why these kind of annoying humans who have done little contribution to society should be given that much attention, time, and special treatment. But the answer is rather simple. Ask yourself, do you think you have contributed many things to the world? Have you really earned your right to exist and live? And do you deserve to be happier than millions of people? No you don’t, and neither do they. If you get treated by an enlightened therapist to unlock your potential and find yourself within just a year, then you would be 1000x better than you currently are. The same thing can happen for them, except they would need it more than you for hundreds of reasons. Stay put and use your critical mind to discover your weaknesses instead of criticizing others.

So where are we? Oh that’s right, we’re discussing about how to gain the trust of the most cynical and vigilant humans on the planet.

I placed the sincerity below the chart because some humans doesn’t want anymore self-pity and empathy from others, they are already blaming and feeling bad about themselves a thousand times per day, and they don’t want you or anyone else to increase that number. They want to solve their problem, make themselves whole again, express their feelings, and be understood by other people. They do not need any of your annoying sympathy that doesn’t really help or comfort them in any way. One must be gentle, neutral, and tactful instead of absorbing all their negative energy just for the sake of empathy.

Vulnerability is low on the list since making yourself worse than other’s doesn’t really help nor teach them anything. If tell your parents that Bob got worse grades than you on the test where you got a D, would your parents be happy or satisfied about it? No they won’t, so these attempts to self-deprecate just so others can feel better about themselves are quite inefficient, negative, and primitive. They won’t always perceive it as you expected, so you better off using the other techniques and skills on the chart unless you’re not a therapist and you are talking to your friend, then it can be a good way to establish socio-emotional connections and add more depth to your friendship.

Enthusiasm is great and cool, but most of the time, instead of being helpful to other people who have trust issues, it makes them more suspicious and guarded to you especially if you act like the church guy always knocking on the door to give flyers and pamphlets that almost no one reads or like the salesman trying to sell an overpriced item by projecting and combining their enthusiasm and positivity with it. However, it is a great thing when it comes to friendships and relationships and for people who only have a moderate degree of skepticism and not those extreme ones.

So overall, the most important things here to build trust is Time, Active Listening, Tactfulness, and Neutral Compassion. One cannot learn it by just practicing it in the head or imagining scenarios, like they say, practice makes progress, and learning from mistakes makes perfect.

Humans… are such fragile creatures. Emotionally vulnerable and socially exposed, you wonder how these fragile creatures manage to reach the top of the food chain. Is the duct tape really that strong? Maybe they found a way to cover their weakness? Well it’s not that surprising. They are built and made to break and grow, so their parts are always replaced often, where they eventually become not an unbreakable diamond, but a beautiful glass, filled with water, wine, and the cheers of the lively crowd.

“Remember this feeling my child, this feeling of childlike trust where you wander around the world, trusting everything that you see to be good and nice, without any worries of rejection or regret.”

“Trust no one, and betray the world around you. Don’t trust yourself, and betray your own self.”

#philosophy #trust #empathy #listening #psychology #connect #life #article #humanity

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kingofthewilderwest · 5 years ago

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Do you feel Hiccup’s personality in RTTE is different than his personality in the movies? If so, would you chalk it up to him still working on growing up, or say it’s the writing? Personally I just feel his personality is slightly more brash and self-centered than he is in the movies. I still love him with my whole heart of course and I LOVE RTTE but I can’t help but feel his personality is a little... off. Also apologies if you’ve already received a similar ask before.

It’s an interesting topic! I like to consider it from both a meta framework (Doylist) and in-universe accounts (Watsonian).

As you said, Hiccup’s personality feels slightly different in RTTE versus the movies. I agree. The difference is objectively there. The showrunners gave us a brasher, bolder, more aggressive Hiccup in the shows.

However, for me, difference doesn’t automatically mean OOC or off. I like to think about it as different flavors of Hiccup. It’s common for a character in a large franchise to have the same core personality and role throughout the franchise, but when you compare individual pieces of media, how the character is spun, or what traits are focused upon, differ from piece to piece. You’ll get permutations where the character feels more violent or confident or humorous, but it’s still the core character you can recognize.

Hiccup has brash moments in HTTYD 1, and that feature got highlighted in the shows more strongly. But it’s still emanating from his core character as a dragon-loving, out-of-the-box-thinking, revolutionary, impulsive, heart-on-his-sleeve young man.

Tony Stark and Natasha Romanova have different flavors depending on which comic series you’re going through with which writer. They’re different between the comics and the movies, they’re different between the animated movies and the television shows and the MCU, and heck, they’ve got different flavors for every MCU installment they’re in. You can still analyze and connect an ongoing consistent narrative from Tony Stark from IM –> IM2 –> Avengers –> IM3 –> AOU –> etc., but frankly, the different writers for the MCU give us obviously different Tonys regardless of continuity. It’s how it is.

So brasher rtte!Hiccup is an obviously different flavor. We can see that the writers of RTTE handle him objectively differently than Chris Sanders + Dean DeBlois handles him in HTTYD 1 + GOTNF, and how Dean DeBlois handles him in HTTYD 2 + HTTYD 3. Regardless of continuity, those differences exist.

But that doesn’t mean Hiccup’s character growth can’t be connected between film and show. I think that, if we want to, we can give a cohesive, comprehensive account of how Hiccup grows through the years. I don’t think it’s bizarre to say that a sarcastic, awkward, impulsive, sometimes brash teenager in a war-centric society (HTTYD 1) becomes more confident when he’s given responsibilities and fits in better with his peers (ROB –> DOB). As he’s faced with more enemies, his confidence continues to grow, and he understands his identity as a dragon protector who thinks outside the box, sometimes meeting enemies with violent solutions to save the day (DOB). But his newfound confidence and leadership skills get tested with an enemy who challenges his strengths, an undercutting experience that can make Hiccup more irritable and brash as he tries to process what’s happening (RTTE). After going through his most dangerous set of circumstances yet, he’s tired of fighting and wants peace, remembering how well that worked in his youth. But now that he’s no longer able to be that carefree kid flying with dragons, he’s questioning his identity and future (HTTYD 2). He’s forced into leadership, where he must mature into an adult who will selflessly give up dragons to the wild (THW).

I watched friends between the ages of 15 to 20 do drastic character developments like that. I had one friend go from an academically-centered goof to a rude cocky pothead to a mature selfless youth group leader in five years, and it all made sense why he changed as he did. And frankly, Hiccup’s more consistent than that. XD

While it’s a lot of smacking together official materials and intentionally reading those materials in light of “Let’s fit this together,” that’s the fun of experiencing any large franchise. Large franchises are always us choosing whether or not we feel like the latest character presentation fits in with the other pieces, and we as fans have the right and interest and valid right to put those pieces together. Stories are meant to be both critically analyzed (looking for where writing could improve) and accepted for our imaginations (bringing materials together into a cohesive whole). Fans have a right to look at Luke Skywalker in TLJ and say, “Yeah, I can see him growing into that,” or not. It’s not wrong to read it either way - or both ways!

So to me it means it doesn’t have to feel off when we see tetchier rtte!Hiccup. I think we can look at the in-universe world, see the circumstances Hiccup is in, and say, “Yeah, that kid’s still growing.”

Personally, I think it’s a lot more fun to say, “Yeah, that kid’s still growing.” I enjoy talking about Hiccup morphing through the years and going through that slightly cocky phase in his middle teens. It makes sense to me. A sarcastic kid who’s used to being ostracized is now given lots of respect in the tribe, everything is going “right” for him (beating bad guys and saving dragons!), and so his ego and temper might spark up to match. Once he realizes he was being brash, he could pendulum hard the other way (I had a pendulum moment in my own life when I was 21) and seek peace to a fault… only later coming to a balanced middle. And as someone who loves all things How to Train Your Dragon, from the movies to the television series, to me there’s nothing more fun than to read the world together as one!

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writtenbyhappynerds · 5 years ago

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Unit 9: Don’t Like, Don’t Read

Welcome to the last unit of Fanfiction 101. We saved this for last because it is most applicable at this time. As well as the notion of, “don’t like, don’t read,” we are going to discuss criticism as a whole, commenting, secondary readers, and plagiarism. Let’s jump into it.

There is only one true example where the idea of, ‘Don’t like, don’t read,’ is a valid claim and that is in fetish fanfiction. If you are writing smut or fanfic that is meant to serve a specific fetish/kink, then put that in the description and then you can inform the reader that if it isn’t their cup of tea they shouldn’t read it. That is the only time this comment is valid because not everyone is actively seeking out Johnlock BDSM or inflation porn. Everything else, from opinion pieces to serious fanfiction is fair game to be critiqued because we as writers are putting it out on a public platform. If you put something online it is unrealistic of you as a writer to expect no one to ever try and tell you what could be wrong with it. It is also on us as writers to acknowledge that every idea we have isn’t a gem. They’re not all winners, and a story that you’ve written perfectly in your head may not translate well on paper. It is on you to grow and adapt the narrative to become even better.

Criticism is not a bad thing. There is a difference between constructive criticism and hate, and hate is usually along the lines of, “this is stupid. You’re a terrible writer.” Because we post things on a public platform we have to be able to take criticism, which gives you the opportunity to grow as a writer. Feedback from your audience allows you to become better at your craft because writing is not a talent. It is a skill, and it is one that improves only by rewriting and editing over and over again until you get it right. I understand that it’s sometimes difficult to get feedback though because it requires work on the reader’s end as well as the author.

To readers, if you are anxious about commenting or feel bad about critiquing someone’s work in a public post, message them privately. The authors are hungry for criticism. Every comment on Fanfiction 101 I have replied to; for everything from the comments on the exams to the comments on the units themselves because clarifying and aiding and taking in feedback makes not only these courses, but my writing capabilities better. I understand how readers think and the positive comments of, ‘This is amazing!’ or ‘I like this already’ are nice to see but they don’t tell the author how to make a story more enjoyable. Personally, if I critique someone’s story I’ll message them privately, tell them I’ve read one of their pieces, and that I have some notes. Now, sometimes it goes over very well and you feel a friendly bond with the person whose work you’re critiquing. When I comment on a piece, it’s because I want it to succeed and I want it to be even better than it is. Sometimes, you get blocked, as I recently did, because the author isn’t emotionally available to accept that there are issues with their work. It happens. It’s water off a duck’s back, and you move on knowing you did what you could to try and help. This leads me to a specific aside:

It is not okay to make fun of another author’s work. To all my readers, do not say that you won’t name a specific work to protect the identity of the writer, but then give me enough context clues that I can find the fanfiction on Google. That is not okay. Making fun of someone else’s fanfic is just mean. I was writing and posting fanfic when I was a sophomore in high school. A lot of fanfiction writers are young kids/teens, and they don’t deserve that. I will come for you if I see you making fun of someone’s fanfic. That isn’t constructive. It isn’t helpful, it’s just mean.

Your fanfiction may sound really great to you the writer because in your head you can see it play or pan out. Sometimes you the author can see the whole narrative in your head and it’s just a matter of putting it down on paper. I’ve been there. I see you. I myself usually write endings as quickly as I can so I have an event or thing to work towards. However, your audience isn’t reading your fanfiction with all the context you’ve given each scene in your head in mind. There is a solution. I detest the term ‘beta readers.’ The lovely lady working on Fanfiction 101 has read every story I’ve ever written that’s been publicly posted since the beginning. This is because she has read a lot of fanfiction, and knows what’s been done before and what hasn’t. I would never designate her as a beta reader because her voice and input in these stories help shape them just as much as I do writing them. Hence, she has and always will be, the Editor. The first person to read. Your first reader or critic doesn’t need to necessarily know what fandom you’re writing for. When your editor knows the fandom, they can provide a second set of eyes regarding the continuity or characterization of the main cast. When I tried to write Agents of SHIELD fanfic back in the day, I got my ass handed to me on both those things time and time again by the Editor. There are several questions you can ask your first reader. To apply them, they are questions we will ask you about Fanfiction 101:

1. When did you feel that the narrative was lagging? This can help you find the more boring sections. As far as self-editing goes, your readers will feel what you feel. If you feel that something is dragging, the readers can pick up on that. If you don’t care about what you’re putting out you can’t expect the readers to care.

2. Did you notice any inconsistencies in the characters or the plot, times, or places? Consistency is key. If you have stated a truth or law of the world or principal for a character you should stick with it.

3. How did the balance of dialogue and description feel? Or, for stories like Fanfiction 101 the balance of examples and information. Some stories are dialogue-heavy, others are description-heavy and there should be a happy balance to avoid the dreaded, ‘show-don’t tell.’

4. Did you ever get confused as to who is speaking? This can help you figure out if you need to make a character’s voice more distinct, or if you need to add additional tags to let the reader keep track.

5. Were there any parts that confused or frustrated you? If so, what are they and why? On the flip side, are there any parts that made you laugh or that you enjoyed, and why?

Take one of these questions and answer it in your own words in the comments. This can give me and the Editor feedback on how to improve our writing. These questions aren’t written law. You don’t have to ask them when your secondary readers look over your work. However, someone who is not you should be reading your stories before you publish. You’ll catch lots of mistakes and flaws that way. Look to the people you trust; the people who will tell you what’s good. If you’re uncomfortable with having someone read your stories, read them to yourself out loud. You will catch your own mistakes, much like you’ll catch uncomfortable dialogue. If you desperately need a secondary reader, slide into my DMs. The Editor and I will happily take a look.

Super long author’s notes or author’s notes in the middle of work are unprofessional and tiresome. If you do intend on having author’s notes, limit yourself to a maximum of 3 sentences. The readers are not going to read author’s notes that are incredibly long, and the Editor and I have encountered author’s notes that are longer than the actual chapter. That’s too much breaking of the third wall. Notes like, “didn’t have time to check the spelling/grammar lolzr sorry!” Get Grammarly. It’s free. Notes in the middle of the text take the reader out of the immersion and show me as a reader that you aren’t confident enough to convey what you want to. My Immortal is filled with author’s notes smack dab in the middle of the text. Don’t be like My Immortal. If we’ve taught you anything, be better than My Immortal.

Finally, let’s talk about plagiarism. Fanfiction is copywritten work. Sometimes very very popular stories will be copied almost word for word. Or, the premise is the exact same and only the character has changed. This is not okay. It’s fine to read a story and be super impressed, but you don’t have the right to copy someone’s work. Another thing that isn’t cute is pretending you have no idea what someone’s talking about. If your story opens with the main character fighting a Minotaur and killing it with its own horn, don’t lie to the audience and pretend that you’ve never read the Percy Jackson series. The readers are not stupid, don’t treat them as such. If you are inspired by another work or story, link the original at the end.

So that’s it. Next week we will post the final exam of Fanfiction 101. It’s comprehensive, covering all 9 units. The Editor and I want to first and foremost thank everyone for sticking with us and coming back every Sunday to see what we have to say. From two people who have read and written a lot of fanfiction, we wanted to share our knowledge and help whomever we could with simple mistakes and errors. Thank you, for reading. Our final exam is next week, and we will have one more post to discuss the future of Fanfiction 101. We’ll see you then.

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coffeebased · 5 years ago

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Would it be terrible if I kept doing this: popping onto WordPress once a year, for a week, just to chirp energetically about the things I’d done the previous year, before disappearing into the aether? Who would sanction me? Other than myself, of course, but I think that I have enough things to distract my conscience. My annually-updated reading blog hardly takes precedence over my other responsibilities and the reparations that have swallowed up my life.

I know that I was due one more blog post in January 2019, about reading stats being compared across the years. How convenient it is that that is exactly what I shall be doing now, here in January 2020.

My ideal posting schedule for 2020 will be as follows:

2019 Books I have read and my 10 favourite ones (right now! Oh, happy day!)

2019 Reading Statistics (1/11)

Reading Statistics: 2013-2019 (1/18)

Goal-setting for 2020 (1/25)

This was the system I tried to implement last year. Two out of three posts completed is still a failing mark. And goodness knows if I will manage to stick to that schedule this year, let alone what happens after those posts. That’s every Saturday for January settled. In previous years I used to do everything in one big post and that was great, like, very cathartic, but posts had gotten more and more unwieldy.

This is such a heartening beginning to a blog post: complete abandonment to the four winds. No commitment! Just my own satisfaction. In 2020, forget overpromising, we are lackadaisically mentioning that we have some ideas that may or may not push through.

I read 126 books in 2019! You can view the complete list: here. It’s the second least number of books I’ve read since I started documenting my reading habits in 2013. I’m not really surprised since I spent most of the year gathering data in the field or studying. More on that in succeeding blog posts.

Previous year-end reading posts are here: 2013 | 2014 | 2015 | 2016 | 2017 | 2018 a b|.

My Ten Favourite Books from Those I Read in 2019

The Sparrow and Children of God by Mary Doria Russell

In 2019, humanity finally finds proof of extraterrestrial life when a listening post in Puerto Rico picks up exquisite singing from a planet that will come to be known as Rakhat. While United Nations diplomats endlessly debate a possible first contact mission, the Society of Jesus quietly organizes an eight-person scientific expedition of its own. What the Jesuits find is a world so beyond comprehension that it will lead them to question what it means to be “human”.

Kid Gloves: Nine Months of Careful Chaos by Lucy Knisley

If you work hard enough, if you want it enough, if you’re smart and talented and “good enough,” you can do anything.Except get pregnant.Her whole life, Lucy Knisley wanted to be a mother. But when it was finally the perfect time, conceiving turned out to be harder than anything she’d ever attempted. Fertility problems were followed by miscarriages, and her eventual successful pregnancy plagued by health issues, up to a dramatic, near-death experience during labor and delivery.This moving, hilarious, and surprisingly informative memoir not only follows Lucy’s personal transition into motherhood but also illustrates the history and science of reproductive health from all angles, including curious facts and inspiring (and notorious) figures in medicine and midwifery. Whether you’ve got kids, want them, or want nothing to do with them, there’s something in this graphic memoir to open your mind and heart.

The Raven Tower by Anne Leckie

For centuries, the kingdom of Iraden has been protected by the god known as the Raven. He watches over his territory from atop a tower in the powerful port of Vastai. His will is enacted through the Raven’s Lease, a human ruler chosen by the god himself. His magic is sustained via the blood sacrifice that every Lease must offer. And under the Raven’s watch, the city flourishes.

But the power of the Raven is weakening. A usurper has claimed the throne. The kingdom borders are tested by invaders who long for the prosperity that Vastai boasts. And they have made their own alliances with other gods.

It is into this unrest that the warrior Eolo–aide to Mawat, the true Lease–arrives. And in seeking to help Mawat reclaim his city, Eolo discovers that the Raven’s Tower holds a secret. Its foundations conceal a dark history that has been waiting to reveal itself…and to set in motion a chain of events that could destroy Iraden forever.

Lent by Jo Walton

Young Girolamo’s life is a series of miracles.

It’s a miracle that he can see demons, plain as day, and that he can cast them out with the force of his will. It’s a miracle that he’s friends with Pico della Mirandola, the Count of Concordia. It’s a miracle that when Girolamo visits the deathbed of Lorenzo “the Magnificent,” the dying Medici is wreathed in celestial light, a surprise to everyone, Lorenzo included. It’s a miracle that when Charles VIII of France invades northern Italy, Girolamo meets him in the field, and convinces him to not only spare Florence but also protect it. It’s a miracle than whenever Girolamo preaches, crowds swoon. It’s a miracle that, despite the Pope’s determination to bring young Girolamo to heel, he’s still on the loose… and, now, running Florence in all but name.

That’s only the beginning. Because Girolamo Savanarola is not who—or what—he thinks he is. He will discover the truth about himself at the most startling possible time. And this will be only the beginning of his many lives.

A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine

Ambassador Mahit Dzmare arrives in the center of the multi-system Teixcalaanli Empire only to discover that her predecessor, the previous ambassador from their small but fiercely independent mining Station, has died. But no one will admit that his death wasn’t an accident—or that Mahit might be next to die, during a time of political instability in the highest echelons of the imperial court.

Now, Mahit must discover who is behind the murder, rescue herself, and save her Station from Teixcalaan’s unceasing expansion—all while navigating an alien culture that is all too seductive, engaging in intrigues of her own, and hiding a deadly technological secret—one that might spell the end of her Station and her way of life—or rescue it from annihilation.

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me by Mariko Tamaki, Rosemary Valero O’Connell

Laura Dean, the most popular girl in high school, was Frederica Riley’s dream girl: charming, confident, and SO cute. There’s just one problem: Laura Dean is maybe not the greatest girlfriend.

Reeling from her latest break up, Freddy’s best friend, Doodle, introduces her to the Seek-Her, a mysterious medium, who leaves Freddy some cryptic parting words: break up with her. But Laura Dean keeps coming back, and as their relationship spirals further out of her control, Freddy has to wonder if it’s really Laura Dean that’s the problem. Maybe it’s Freddy, who is rapidly losing her friends, including Doodle, who needs her now more than ever.

Fortunately for Freddy, there are new friends, and the insight of advice columnists like Anna Vice to help her through being a teenager in love.

Tiempo Muerto by Caroline Hau

Two women meet on the island where they shared a childhood. One is looking for her mother, the other her yaya. One is an Overseas Filipino Worker, the other an heiress. In an old bahay na bato haunted by scandal and tragedy, secrets and ghosts, the women find their lives entangled and face the challenge of refusing their predetermined fates and embracing their open futures.

Gideon the Ninth, The Locked Tomb #1 by Tamsyn Muir

The Emperor needs necromancers.

The Ninth Necromancer needs a swordswoman.

Gideon has a sword, some dirty magazines, and no more time for undead bullshit.

Tamsyn Muir’s Gideon the Ninth unveils a solar system of swordplay, cut-throat politics, and lesbian necromancers. Her characters leap off the page, as skillfully animated as necromantic skeletons. The result is a heart-pounding epic science fantasy.

Brought up by unfriendly, ossifying nuns, ancient retainers, and countless skeletons, Gideon is ready to abandon a life of servitude and an afterlife as a reanimated corpse. She packs up her sword, her shoes, and her dirty magazines, and prepares to launch her daring escape. But her childhood nemesis won’t set her free without a service.

Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Reverend Daughter of the Ninth House and bone witch extraordinaire, has been summoned into action. The Emperor has invited the heirs to each of his loyal Houses to a deadly trial of wits and skill. If Harrowhark succeeds she will become an immortal, all-powerful servant of the Resurrection, but no necromancer can ascend without their cavalier. Without Gideon’s sword, Harrow will fail, and the Ninth House will die.

Of course, some things are better left dead.

Sixteen Ways to Defend a Walled City by K. J. Parker

This is the story of Orhan, son of Siyyah Doctus Felix Praeclarissimus, and his history of the Great Siege, written down so that the deeds and sufferings of great men may never be forgotten.

A siege is approaching, and the city has little time to prepare. The people have no food and no weapons, and the enemy has sworn to slaughter them all.

To save the city will take a miracle, but what it has is Orhan. A colonel of engineers, Orhan has far more experience with bridge-building than battles, is a cheat and a liar, and has a serious problem with authority. He is, in other words, perfect for the job.

Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self-Delusion by Jia Tolentino

Trick Mirror is an enlightening, unforgettable trip through the river of self-delusion that surges just beneath the surface of our lives. This is a book about the incentives that shape us, and about how hard it is to see ourselves clearly in a culture that revolves around the self. In each essay, Jia writes about the cultural prisms that have shaped her: the rise of the nightmare social internet; the American scammer as millennial hero; the literary heroine’s journey from brave to blank to bitter; the mandate that everything, including our bodies, should always be getting more efficient and beautiful until we die.

Thanks for bearing with me. Keep a weather eye for the next post.

[Reading] My 10 favourite books from 2019 Would it be terrible if I kept doing this: popping onto Wordpress once a year, for a week, just to chirp energetically about the things I'd done the previous year, before disappearing into the aether?

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pomegranate-belle · 6 years ago

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For Day 6 of MattFoggy Week: Past or Future

That’s right folks, we’re busting out the TIME TRAVEL!

It’s still in shambles, but have some bits of what I usually call the Obligatory Bittersweet Time Travel AU, even though it has literally my very best pun title ever: “The Temporal Forecast is Decidedly Foggy”

—

The day it happens, his mind and heart war between the cold shock of losing the most important person in his life and the colder knowledge that this was always coming someday. Matt Murdock is dead. Really dead. There’s a body this time, and Foggy can barely look at it but he forces himself to. Forces himself to examine every scar, every birthmark, to make sure. To make sure this isn’t an evil clone or an illusion or—

It’s not. Everything is exactly as it should be.

Except that Matt is dead.

He died saving a kid, so at least he’d be happy about that, Foggy thinks. Not that it does him any good.

—

“Could I go back?” Foggy asks quietly. “Could I change it?”

Strange sighs and fiddles with his sleeve cuff, a troubled expression on his already troubled face.

“Those are complicated questions, Franklin, with complicated answers.”

“I know, I just— Would I be able to try? Would you let me? Or is it a... Is it one of those butterfly effect things, where I’ll, I don’t know, destroy the whole timeline if I sneeze in the wrong place?”

That at least brings a smile, wan, to the sorcerer’s face, and Foggy mirrors it back at him.

“The universe is a fragile thing, but it’s not as fragile as all that. If I sent you back... Time would bend around your existence. Make room for you. If unraveling the universe were as simple as a man’s wish to save someone he loved, well, I’m sure the universe would have ended many times over by now.”

It’s... A lot to digest, but the gist is simple.

“You’ll help me, then,” Foggy realizes.

“Time is contradictory by nature, both flowing and immutable. If you do this, you will never return to this time, and you have no guarantee that your presence in the past will make any significant difference in his fate.”

“Yeah,” Foggy agrees softly. “I know. But he’s... This is what I want to do. I’ve already made up my mind.”

Because it’s not that he ‘doesn’t want to live without Matt’ in the suicidal sense — at his core, Foggy just isn’t that sort of guy; even at his lowest, he’s always wanted to live. If this wasn’t an option, Foggy would figure out how to deal with that. But, as things stand, this is an option. It might be a weird one, but Foggy has learned to embrace mystical weirdness wholeheartedly.

“Franklin—“

“C’mon, Doc. It’s fine. I always wanted to be Marty McFly.”

—

This. Isn’t right. Foggy can feel it in his bones, that it isn’t...

He spins in a slow circle, taking in the street around him, and—

Yeah, there.

The Chinese place he and Matt used to love, the one owned by the same family for three generations that they had gone to after finals every semester. It had been crushed during the Chitauri alien attack, and never rebuilt. Situating himself directionally, Foggy moves his gaze upward. But the garish point of Avengers née Stark Tower is nowhere to be seen.

“Ok,” Foggy says, gently, trying very hard not to knock himself off the knife edge of calm he’s feeling. “Ok. So. A little further back than I was thinking.”

—

The newspaper trembles in his hands, pages rustling obnoxiously.

“Hm. Ok. A lot further back than I was thinking.”

Which is bad. Really, really bad, because the plan had been to have Strange help him out with the aftermath — what to do, new identity, the whole shebang. Assuming he survived rushing into danger to save Matt, obviously. Only, Foggy’s about a thousand percent sure that Stephen Strange was not the Sorcerer Supreme — or, in fact, any type of Sorcerer at all — in 1996. So.

—

Which is the point that he realizes why the date is so familiar. How could he not, after spending years watching Matt try to muscle his way through his father’s death alone?

—

“I’ll trade you my watch for your bat,” he offers hastily. “Look, it’s— it’s a really expensive watch, ok, you pawn this and you could get a new bat, but I really need—“

“Yeah, alright,” the kid says, suspicious but holding out his hand for the watch.

Foggy tosses it at him, and the boy drops the bat to catch it before racing off down the street. Foggy grabs the discarded bat and hefts it over his shoulder.

“Yup, this is a terrible idea, Foggy Nelson,” he tells himself.

Not that it’s gonna stop him.

—

“You even think about touching the Murdocks again, and I’ll make you regret it,” Foggy growls, standing over the gunman and pressing the bat to his windpipe — channeling Matt’s intensity as best he can. “You tell your bosses that too.”

“Oh yeah, and you’re gonna make me you fat fu—“

And Foggy’s, you know, just not in the habit of taking that sort of verbal abuse. He gives the guy a nice hard kick in the nuts that has him swearing a blue streak.

“Dickhead.”

There’s a rough sputter of a laugh, then, but it doesn’t come from Foggy or from the goon on the ground. It comes from Jack Murdock, slowly levering up to his feet and swiping blood from his nose and mouth. He spits a glob of worryingly red saliva onto the pavement.

—

“Who are you?” Jack rasps.

He sounds, Foggy thinks with a slight pang, a little like his son after a fight. Well. His chronology’s off, Foggy supposes. Matt after a fight sounds like Jack after a fight. And speaking of chronology... He’s pretty sure telling people his actual name might make the universe implode somehow, but it’s best to give out something he knows he’ll remember to respond to.

“Percival Franklin. You can call me Percy,” Foggy says wryly, offering a hand.

Jack shakes it with a painfully familiar grin dancing at the corners of his bloodied mouth.

“Jack Murdock. But I guess you knew that already, huh.”

“Big fan of your work,” Foggy replies, totally blasé.

And he means the boxing, really he does. After all, though he’s never seen Jack Murdock box in person he’s described enough of the videos to Matt to have a pretty comprehensive understanding of the man’s career. So. Definitely the boxing. He may just also mean the very good genetics Jack passed on to his charming and insufferable vigilante son.

—

“Matty’s a good kid,” Jack says. “Deserves better than... Well. Than to have an old man like me. I’m supposed to be taking care of him, but half the time he’s the one taking care of me.”

“I knew a guy like that once,” Foggy replies quietly, neglecting to mention that the person in question is the same. “Those are the ones you’ve really gotta watch out for, huh? Real tough and independent. But if you look, they need things just like anyone even if they won’t say it. Maybe your son tries so hard to take care of you because he needs you, doesn’t like it when you’re hurt. He deserves to have a dad that loves him, and that’s exactly what he’s got. That’s what I think.”

—

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Foggy tells him.

He’s the one that should be worried. Matt’s just— so little, and Jack, despite his bulk, looks a bit gaunt around the cheekbones. Foggy wants to feed them both and bundle them in blankets, which is a terrible instinct to have when they don’t know him from Adam and all his money is decades in the future. Jack offers a familiar crooked smile that makes Foggy’s heart ache.

“Doesn’t mean I won’t. What you did for me, for my boy... Hell, I can’t pay that back. If you ever need anything...”

Foggy shuffles his feet.

“Well. Uh. If you’re offering... I could really use a place to crash for the night.”

—

A chill creeps up Foggy’s spine. After years with a superhero for a bff, he’s learned to trust his hinky gut feelings, so Foggy’s pretty sure he’s being watched. Unfortunately, the hinky gut feelings do not come with a handy compass pointing him in the direction of whoever’s creeping on him. Which is— unfortunate.

It could easily be a simple mugger, or maybe one of Roscoe Sweeney’s guys. But it might also be one of those freaky-ass Hand ninjas, attracted by the mystical weirdness of Foggy’s time traveling. It could be Stick. Somehow, that feels like the worst option of all. There’s no way he’s going to let that abusive dickhead anywhere near Matty, no way no how. He’ll— he’ll train Matty himself if he has to. Not in the martial arts stuff because that is lightyears beyond Foggy’s self-defense skill set, but... The senses. He can help with those, maybe.

—

Across town, the last of Roscoe Sweeney’s enforcers heads down a dark alley. His intention is to find somewhere to lie low, to wait out his boss’s anger and the cops’ search attempts until he can get out of town.

There’s a loud clang from behind him, and he startles, whirling around to face... Someone. Something. The darkness is too thick to pick out more than a vaguely humanoid shape.

“The— the hell do you want?”

“You went after the father and failed,” the shadowy figure growls, low and menacing. “So you came after the boy. That was a mistake.”

—

“How do you know all this stuff?” Matty demands, his fingers still sliding unerringly across the pages of his book.

For all his scholastic prowess, Foggy has never mastered reading and speaking at the same time. It was always something he’d admired about Matt, and knowing he acquired the skill so young is startling.

“I, I had a friend,” Foggy explains distractedly. “My best friend was like you.”

That makes Matty pause.

“Just like me? Even...?”

He lifts his small hands from the Braille to gesture at his ears. Foggy smiles.

“Yeah. That too. He taught me about the things that helped him.”

—

“You don’t have to be alone,” Matty says stubbornly. “You’ve got us now.”

Foggy tries hard to blink back the tears, presses a hand to his mouth for just a moment as he gulps down the sob caught in his throat.

“Yeah,” he agrees, his voice croaky and weak. “Yeah, I’ve got you now.”

—

Foggy’s never actually met Stick, and it’s not like Matt could have described what he looks like, but when an old blind dude with a perpetual scowl starts cropping up around every corner, well... A person gets Suspicions.

—

Foggy’s breath catches painfully in his chest. It’s been— years now. Foggy’s gotten what few hallucinations of his Matt’s return he was going to have out of his system.

And yet.

A familiar silhouette graces the skyline, crouched on the corner of a roof across the street — and there are two stubby little horns on his head.

Foggy can’t stop the sob building up in his throat, but he presses a hand to his mouth anyway, tries to muffle it.

“Matt...?” he chokes out once he can breathe again.

There’s a slight shift as— as Daredevil tilts his head, and then he darts away over the rooftops.

#mattfoggy #mattfoggyweek #writing #daredevil

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bukegumin · 6 years ago

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Personal skill development and goal

Now I have stayed at Sunderland University for five months. When I came shortly, but it was enough to make me feel worthwhile. In my opinion, this school can provide everything I want, all the facilities, teachers, and staff are professional. I have never heard of anyone who has sought academic help from a school or teacher, and the library has a lot of online databases that can download all the papers and reports you want without spending a penny. Thinking and analyzing myself for personal development is very important for my future life.

Self-evaluation

Excellent: optimistic and positive, self-motivated, team-oriented and collaborative, with strong innovative meaning, strong hands-on practical ability, and self-learning ability. Strong enthusiasm for the cause, strong sense of responsibility, principle of doing things, calm, consider the problem is comprehensive and thoughtful; face the problem to develop a good habit of independent thinking; be honest and kind to friends, can get along well with others; the only deficiency Is a bit introverted, not very communicative, not good at expressing

Professional values

Based on family conditions, first consider the higher-paying jobs, and have the opportunity to learn from them and gain new knowledge for the chosen career; of course, if there is no wage income limit, I will consider my favorite job first. At the same time, consider whether the job can achieve your goals or your own ideas; finally, consider whether this job is suitable for me, whether my ability is competent, and so on.

According to my own interests and the majors I have studied, I will make a preliminary plan for the coming year as follows:

Personal development, interpersonal relationship, and willingness of the personality of the will: During this period, we will do a good job in the basic work of the career, actively complete the tasks, strengthen communication, humbly ask for advice, maintain interest in new things, and be close to the complex society. As well as people who are optimistic, I believe that there will always be solutions to any difficulties encountered, and they will dare to adhere to themselves but learn to listen to others first. Be able to uphold justice and uphold one's own principles,

Lifestyle, hobbies: In a proper social environment, try to form a regular and good personal habit, and participate in social activities such as gatherings, as well as necessary fitness activities, such as walking, playing badminton, etc. Reward social charity activities, such as actively participating in donations to help the poor, blood donation activities, and so on.

For professional interests, although I am not sure that I am in a specific occupation, I really don't like to learn theoretical knowledge, so I am more loyal to the actual work. Maybe my hands-on ability is generally not very strong, so during college, I will focus on developing my own hands-on ability to lay a good foundation for future careers. I have always believed in my ability and treated things very seriously. I pursue to be able to do things better, to have my own opinions on things, and to learn from others' good methods and listen to other people's suggestions.

Then, Talking about the reading skills I have learned. Learn the background of this book. Before I read a book, I will quickly search the Internet to see the background of the writing, the environment, the author, and then browse the book's comments, find a concise summary of the summary, read the recommendation. This key step can help me prepare for what I want to read and let me know the author's motivation. Once the focus of reading is clear, it is time to ask specific questions. Write down five to ten specific questions that you would like the author to answer. By asking some questions before you start, you first set up an objective basis for why you read this book. These questions will make it easier for you to determine if your reading has achieved your goals when you read them. Before I start reading the first page, I will first study the catalog to see how the chapters and chapters are constructed. Then I browsed the book and the section title. Next, I read the chapter outline and even the conclusive chapter. Anything that looks like a short summary will be read first (and frankly, I often read the last page before reading the first page). Then I was ready to start reading the preface. Readers often want to plunge into the book, but the time spent viewing a book is a rewarding investment. This step will also protect me from wasting time reading mediocre books! In the process of reading, we must develop a habit of reading with purpose and focus, so that we are good at discovering key points, new problems, new ideas, and new materials when reading. Some point at the beginning and end of the article to point out the central idea, while others express the central idea through the main events, as long as the main event can quickly determine the central idea, and so on. If there is a direct discourse in the text, mark it down; if not, just summarize it in a short discourse. Thinking after reading. After you have finished reading a book, stop and give yourself some time to make a final summary and evaluation. Go back to the inside pages of the book or write these ideas in your notebook. Construct a mind map. When you finish reading a book, you can re-screen it in your mind. The blurred place can be folded back. Then you can make a mind map of the whole book (or a part) and sort out the main characters, deeds, opinions.

Reading an English original and encountering a word you don't know, don't worry about it. You can try to guess the meaning of the word according to the context. After reading it, check it out to see if your guess is accurate. Over time, you will find that your skills are becoming more and more proficient, and you will be able to cope with the exams when you encounter words that you don’t recognize in reading comprehension.I recommend all kinds of newspapers, because many of the articles in the newspaper are commentary, and the writer persuades you to believe his point of view. This is the same purpose as the one you wrote.

Then, with regard to word skills, my general opinion is that it can only be regarded as a kind of pure physical labor, and it requires repeated manual labor. I mean that learning English requires repeated memories. Memory is the reflection of past experience in the human brain. It includes four basic processes of memorization, preservation, reproduction and recall. Its forms include image memory, conceptual memory, logical memory, emotional memory, and sports memory.

However, the enemy of memory is forgotten. To improve memory, the essence is to avoid and overcome forgetting. I will concentrate on my class. When you remember, you can only concentrate on your mind, concentrate on distracting thoughts and the outside world, and the cerebral cortex will leave a deep memory trace and not easy to forget. If the spirit is distracted and used with one heart, it will greatly reduce the memory efficiency. Strong interest. If you are interested in learning materials and knowledge objects, even if you spend more time, it is difficult to remember to understand memory. Understanding is the foundation of memory. Only things that you understand can remember and remember for a long time. It’s not easy to remember if you just rely on rote memorization. For important learning content, if you can understand and memorize, the memory effect will be better. Over-learning. That is, on the basis of remembering the learning materials, remember a few more times, to the extent of memorizing and remembering. Review in time. The speed of forgetting is fast and slow. For those who have just learned the knowledge, it is an effective means to strengthen the memory traces and prevent forgetting. Frequently recalled. When studying, constantly trying to recall, can make the errors in the memory be corrected, the omissions can be made up, and the difficult points in the learning content can be remembered more firmly. In my leisure time, I often recall the objects I remember in the past, and I can avoid forgetting. Audiovisual combination. Simultaneous use of language functions and visual and auditory organ functions to enhance memory and improve memory efficiency. This is much better than a single silent read.

Then talk to manage time. The necessity of efficient manager time management Why do efficient managers manage time? This is a matter of opinion. However, because many college administrators do not manage the time scientifically and effectively, they often cause exhaustion, but they can’t catch big things, small things can’t catch them, and waste time is widespread. There are many reasons for the waste of efficient management time. Subjectively, on the one hand, it may be because managers want to do too many things, but because there is no scientific distinction between priorities and even lack of clear goals, It leads to a lack of prioritization of work, and may end up with no tail; on the other hand, it may be because it is not good at authorization, it has to spend a lot of time on specific matters, or because of hasty decision-making, the entire school time and other resources are wasted. Objectively speaking, the reason for efficient managers to waste time comes from superior leadership, work systems, and living and working conditions. Regardless of the reason, once the time of the efficient manager is wasted, the damage to the entire department or even the entire efficiency is extremely great, which may lead to the efficient and inefficient repetitive work of the department, the unit and the whole, and the final result is not good. In order to avoid the recurrence of wasted time, it is necessary to manage the time of efficient managers. Efficient managers never have time to do everything, but by managing time, they are guaranteed to have time to do the most important things.

According to the situation, the classification memory and chart memory are used flexibly to shorten the memory process. Or use the methods of editing, taking notes, making cards, etc. to enhance memory. best time. Generally speaking, for me, 9-11 in the morning, 3-4 in the afternoon, and 7-10 in the evening is the best memory time. I like to use the above time to memorize hard points and learning materials, and the effect is much better. Science uses the brain. Scientifically use the brain on the basis of ensuring nutrition, active rest, and physical exercise to maintain the brain. Only by preventing excessive fatigue and maintaining positive and optimistic emotions can we greatly improve the efficiency of the brain. This is the key to improving memory.

Defining the goals that you want to achieve, making yourself aspirations for longing and pursuit, and forcing your attention to focus on reminding and urging yourself to complete tasks; second, relying on self-control and self-regulation, with a strong will All kinds of outsiders are struggling to fight, reaching out to the ears, and quietly overtaking my mood.

Mastering the rules and methods, and paying attention to scientific principles should run through the entire learning process of students. There are three steps in this learning process: one is the preparation, the second is the class, and the third is the review. Prep is to understand yourself, mainly to understand what you don't understand.

About English Listening List the words you need to pay attention to during class. List some of the words you often hear during the class. Bring this list to the class and pay attention to the words above. Every time you hear a word, make a mark next to it to see which words appear most frequently. When preparing the list, you can write in advance the words that you think need attention. For example, if you are learning about tourism, you can write more travel English vocabulary. This kind of listening practice allows you to understand and grasp the context and specific usage of these words in specific scenarios. When you are familiar with the most frequently heard words, you can turn your attention to other words on the list that are less marked. Ask your classmates. After you have learned a lot with the teacher, asking for more classmates will also make you gain something. Find a classmate who is willing to study with you. Listen to a podcast, speech, song or other audio content together, and then find some words to test each other.

Two people can learn from each other to learn from each other - some words that you don't understand, maybe your classmates understand, and vice versa. In addition to improving your English listening, this will also allow you to increase your understanding of each other and relax more in class.

Academic planning is the most important stage of life learning habits. Hard work and hard work, every step of university life is not only a reliable guarantee for completing university tasks but also a necessary condition for future work and lifelong learning. I give myself 2 hours a day to do my favorite things. In this semester, I started to learn video production, hoping to become a good video producer, hoping to share my joy and happiness. During the video production study, I plan to collect some Sunderland videos every week to show the international students' struggle and hard work in Sunderland, hard work and sweat, harvest joy and so on.

Improve interpersonal communication skills, learn how to behave, and learn how to do it. Carefully plan your own study plan, take the initiative to train, humbly ask the teachers and classmates to do their own work seriously, really care about each classmate, and get along with the students. Students in the school earnestly practice making friends and accumulate rich extracurricular knowledge. You should fully understand your major, consider whether you are studying or working in the future, test your knowledge and skills, improve your sense of responsibility, initiative, and frustration, and begin to selectively supplement other professional knowledge to fill yourself.

To sum up, When you look up at the sky, don't forget to be down to earth. Looking up at the stars and down to earth must be combined. At the same time of starting a business, we must move forward step by step, and finally, achieve success. At the same time, recognize the gap between the current state and the ideal state, pay attention to the focus on time, and take precautionary measures on the risk to eliminate interference, and do not blindly compare.

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redfoxwritesstuff · 6 years ago

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Silent Song #6

Well this is a bit latter then normal. Song’s going to go from twice weekly updates to every Friday for a bit as I prepare for a move. Just over 5k words this time around.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

chapter 6

With breakfast completed, the team broke for training and whatever else it was they filled their time with. Tony left Hotaru with orders to make herself at home but if she was honest, she didn't really know how to do that and so she wondered the compound aimlessly. Two floors above hers, she found another living space. While it did have a bar and fridge, it wasn't set for making meals. Mostly, she found halls with closed doors and conference rooms with glass walls.

At the highest floor, the voice of Jarvis advised her that the floor contained the private quarters of Tony Stark and that she was not authorized to enter. As only door on that floor wouldn't open for her, she retreated back to the floors she considered her home. It would make sense that Tony would keep a private apartment in the tower. At no point did she find where the mystery man Jarvis spent his time, hiding away.

The floor below hers held a library and media room, among other things. With little else to do, a book would at least occupy her time. Much of the books however were of academic subjects and far to advanced for her. Hotaru wondered if it was that they were too advanced or if she was simply stupid, as her captors always said Maybe anyone else would understand these subjects. For a moment, she wondered of Tony was really still that boring but decided that there very well could be another library in the building with better leisure reading that she hadn't found yet.

Unknown to her, Loki watched as Hotaru explored the tower. He followed in the shadows, careful not to be observed by her. Did he need to hide? No, not really. But while under house arrest, what else could he do to entertain himself. At least following the little Firefly filled his time.

He watched as she fluttered about the library, picking up and putting back books of all subject matters. While he could point her down the hall and around the corner where the second half of the tower's library was kept, he was curious about what she would pick. That of course was if she picked anything at all.

Hotaru stopped in front of the selection of books on mythology and history. They seemed oddly out of place to her but she was happy to find something that wouldn't straight read like a textbook or academic journal. After sifting through her options, she settled for a book on Norse mythology and carefully picked it up.

“Were you truly going to be so cold as to let me take the fall for Tony's missing coffee?” Loki spoke from directly behind her, snagging the book from her as she dropped it in her fright. Again, she screamed yet no noise came, just the soft whoosh of the air passing through her throat and mouth. Hotaru shook her head at him while dramatically clutching at her chest.

“Your heart is fine.” Loki flipped through the book, reading a few pages here and there before handing it back to her. “Most of what's in here is inaccurate, you are aware of that?”

Hotaru smiled at him and shrugged her shoulders. She could have assumed as much but really, what could she do. Without her notepad or pen, she had no way to really give voice to why she picked the book beyond that she did. Even if she had her notepad, could she explain with just a note or two?

“If you wish to know of the Gods, I have much better books then this.” Loki spoke, wiggling the book in his hand. “However, should you wish to know of my Brother and I, you'll do well to ask the source.”

When Loki finally handed the book back to her, she looked down at it for a moment, unsure as to what she wanted to do. It took a moment for her to decide that she knew far too little about the people who surrounded her. All she knew is that they saved her, that they were associated with her brother and that they were not normal. Additionally, she still had questions about the man who was clearly mistrusted but allowed to roam free.

Loki seemed to be waiting for her answer and so she shelved the book before turning to face him again with a small smile. He grinned down at her, deciding that she would at least be an interesting diversion. Further, he would annoy Stark by knowing the little Firefly better than her own brother.

“Little Firefly?” Loki spoke softly as he extended his hand to her, bowing slightly at the waist. Hotaru. It was her opinion that he looked noble, regal even, in his black on black suit. With nothing else to do, she rested her hand in his and offered a mock curtsy.

“We'll have to work on that curtsy of yours, Little Firefly, should you have need to properly greet me in the future.” With a swift movement, he straightened and took her hand, placing it in the crook of his elbow as he laughed. His hand rested on hers as he lead her through the halls in the direction of their rooms. Loki was well aware he was being overly familiar with her and that Tony had cameras over most of the tower and would likely see. That was the point, to irritate his jailer while keeping up the most innocent air.

Hotaru didn't know that it was a game for Loki. All she knew is that he was a intriguing man and if she could learn more about him and his brother through books, she was going to accept the chance. Books could talk to her without expecting answers from her that she had to figure out how to give. Books were safe, she decided as they walked. Books were friends.

Glancing up at Loki, she wondered if he was a friend also. She wondered about the chains and wished she had her notepad. Without it, she settled for using her free hand to write on his shoulder. 'Who are you?'

“I am Loki, Prince of Asgard, King of Jotunheim, brother to Thor, King of Asgard.” The answer was simple in his mind as he glanced down at her, eyebrow cocked. He had a feeling that wasn't what she meant but she didn't know him and he liked that. Having been kept locked away for much of her life, her opinion of him was untainted by the things he did, the things he was forced to do. She knew nothing of the mistakes he had made. She didn’t know that he was King of an empty rock.

For a while, she accepted the answer. She hadn't know he was royal. She was never told Thor was a King. If she was to treat them differently, she couldn't tell and so decided to continue as she was. To change now could risk punishment, if it was not what they wanted. Oh how she longed for the days when she knew what was expected of her. Was it possible to miss being a captive?

For a short moment, his hand left it's place atop hers as he opened his bedroom door for them, stepping inside and holding the door for her until she was inside. Only when she was lead to a set of bookshelves did he allow her to free her hand from his arm.

Many of the books were in a language other than her own. Each and every one was bound with great care and skill, reminding her of books from long ago. In her time, quality and care was replaced with speed and efficiency. Softly, she ran her fingers along the spines of books, feeling the supple leather bindings. She hesitated over on titled 'A History of Asgard' before looking back to Loki.

“You may.” With a nod he granted his permission and she carefully took the heavy book from its place. Hotaru was thankful for the clear granting of permission, something she was finding hard to come by. “It holds the story of our Father, his father and our people. Much more accurately than Stark's books.”

For a moment, she stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. Damn, how she wished she had a voice. She settled for looking around. Loki's room was much the same as hers in the most basic sense. The layout was similar at least. The windows were draped in dark green fabric, pulled back partially, the blinds behind it pulled up, letting light into the room. Rather than the long shelf under the window sat a plush bench, covered in rich green fabric and made of dark solid wood with gold accents, just the same as the rest of the furniture in the room. His bed was draped in black and green. It stood tall and imposing in the room, four post banisters reaching toward the ceiling. The bookshelves were tall and heavy, full of books.

“You can sit.” Loki offered when her eyes returned to him. “Or, if you would rather you can take it and return it when your finished.” After hesitating for a moment, Hotaru nodded her thanks and made her way to the door where she hesitated again in the doorway. “If you should have any questions...” Loki motioned to himself rather than completing the sentence, leaving his meaning clear yet open.

With one last smile to him, she left him to duck into her room where she grabbed her pen and notepad before heading back into the living room where she perched herself into a armchair and waited out her time with her nose in the book.

Clint came back some time later brandishing his shopping bags of goodies and a pleased grin on his face.

“I'm home with gifts!” Clint called with slight victory dance, earning him a smile, wave and silent laugh from Hotaru as he made his way into the living space.

As Clint put away his shopping, she returned to her book. While she had been reading in peace, she had hardly made a dent. It was written in English however the phrasing was different, causing her to often have to re-read passages. In reality, her reading comprehension was likely compromised as well, it had been years since she last read more then a few words at a time and even longer since she read anything nearly this dense.

Before she knew it, Clint was sitting on the coffee table facing her and nudging her leg with his foot. Finally dragging her attention from the history book, she looked up at him and cocked her head to the side.

“I got you a notebook.” Clint nudged her again when her eyes went back to the book. It was interesting and he was interrupting her story. It felt safe to give him a hard time, Hotaru was enjoying ignoring the man. With a sigh she closed it and set it aside, giving him her full attention and a thin smile. It was clear he was excited however and that excitement is what drew a true smile from her.

The notebook was only presented when he had her full attention. “I hope you like it,” Clint started, face split by a large grin as he pulled out the notebook and handed it to her. “I went to a actual stationary store, feel lucky Taru!”

It was solid backed with a spiral binding. The cover was black and decorated with misty swirls of red that could almost be a flowers. Flipping it open, she found clean white lined pages, each page was able to be cleanly torn from the book, allowing her to clear conversations if she wished. Hotaru smiled at him in thanks as she moved to grab her claimed pen from next to him but just as quickly but Clint tossed it away.

“Nope! No more scratchy pen snatched from some lobby 20 years ago.” As Clint spoke, he pulled out a package of brand new pens. After peeling back the packaging, he offered one of the pens to her before setting the package next to him. “Try her out, take her for a test drive, see how she writes.”

Clint was so excited about the pens that Hotaru couldn't resist giving in to his somewhat childish demands. It seemed silly to her as she wrote out a simple 'thank you' note before deciding the pen did indeed write better and added 'you're right, it's nice' , but later that night, she would understand. When she was sitting alone in her room, doodling on her new notepad with the colored pens that wrote so smoothly, it hit her.

Writing was her voice, or as close to it as she would ever have and it was something she only just recently obtained. Did she want her voice to be a pen that hardly write while it scratched up the paper and sticky notes? It did in a pinch, but was that what she wanted the world to see her as, to hear her as? It was something she never considered before, but a crisp new notebook that had a dark and mysterious cover presented much better than sticky notes.

Each pen was dark, the ink just a few shades lighter than black, but each was colored differently. She had a blue, a red, a purple, a green and a black pen. With them, she had the ability to color her words, as one would color their spoken words with the tone of their voice, if she wished to. Each pen wrote easy and clearly, each had a fine tip and left smooth lines. Each pen was perfect. Just what she didn't know she wanted, what she didn't know she needed.

Clint did also get her a new sticky note pad, one shaped like a firefly and a small purse, just large enough to hold her notebook, pens and sticky pad. She could carry them with her, have them as needed and not have to worry about having her hands full. Hotaru hugged the packed back to her chest as she sat on her bed with a small smile on her face and her heavy borrowed book in her lap.

Next to her sits a pile of sticky notes where she took notes of what she read, in a lame effort to try and keep the stories straight. Maybe a history book wasn't the smartest choice for first reading material in years, but she had hoped to understand the man who lent it to her a bit. Yet the book was full of stories that could be myth for how outlandish some sounded.

Each story seemed full of words she couldn't pronounce in her mind, words she could only guess to the meaning of. Hotaru fell back on her bed and wondered if by any chance Loki had some Asgardian children's books- something more on her level but by some stroke of luck, written in english and not whatever language was clearly the native tongue where he was from. Maybe Loki would read it to her, explain it to her as he went. It was a silly thought, she would never trouble him with that.

Loki found her some time later, asleep on her back with the heavy book half off her lap and bag loosely clutched in her arms and a sea of sticky notes littering her bed. He hadn't intended to seek her out, but her chamber door was open and he was retiring to his chamber for the night. Curiosity drew him to her.

Blue eyes scanned notes as he cleared the bed, taking in the level of effort she was putting into reading the history text. It would be easier for her if he just explained it, if he just read it to her but he wasn't so sure anyone would wish to be around him so long. But she didn't know, she was unaware of the monster he was. Maybe he would offer, he decided as he placed the last of the sticky notes on her desk.

Next, he plucked the book off her lap and set it on the desk as well before returning to her and carefully working her bag out of her hands and hanging it up behind her door. The useless girl couldn't even get herself to bed on her own and Loki wanted to be irritated at having to put her to bed. It wouldn't do for her to sleep half on the bed after all.

Before picking her up, he pulled back the covers and dimmed the lights. Hotaru was so small in his arms, so very light. She fit so well cradled against his chest as he moved around to the other side of the bed. So well, in fact that for a short moment Loki just held her before setting her in bed and tucking the blanket around her. He told himself that he was just taking a moment to soak in the warmth that seemed to radiate off her body.

Loki didn't allow himself to wonder about what she had gone through in her short life. Questions of her past, her scars and her life were quickly shut down. She would tell them in time, should she wish. They didn't need to know more than what they saw when she was found. He himself knew how hard the demons of the past could be to talk about, to face at all.

With the small girl settled into the bed, Loki took a moment to pull the covers up to her chin. She was so small, had such a hard life and yet, somehow she still lived. She had been through so much more than he had, yet she seemed to hold no hate. Fear? Yes, she had plenty of fear but she seemed so willing to open herself.

Loki left her with the lights till on, dimmed so as to not plunge her into the black night but low enough to allow for restful sleep. Just as the door clicked closed behind him, he gave her one parting glance.

In the security of his chambers, Loki found himself unable to settle for the night. He didn’t particularly need sleep and so unless he was able to relax, it was unlikely he’d pass the night resting. Would Stark watch the cameras and see Loki coming from the room in the darkness of the night? Oh how Loki hoped so. Maybe he even went against his own protocol and had cameras in his darling sister’s room. Wouldn’t that tickle Stark, to see Loki holding her, tucking her into her bed for the night.

The simple fact that this thought occured to Loki as an afterthought was lost to him, even as he paced and planed the night away. With each pass in front of the door, he listened. How he, or anyone, would know if the Little Firefly were to find herself locked in another nightmare, he didn’t know. Oddly enough however, he didn’t want to think about her being trapped in whatever dream had haunted her the night prior.

And so he paced. And thought. And annalized. Every sound was scrutinized. Was that the wind or was it the sound of a small girl fighting a tangle of blankets? Loki fully intended to be the first to her side, should she need anyone. Stark would have little chance to get from the top of the tower to her before he could.

That was the reason, the only reason he left his chamber that night. It was the only reason he opened the door to her’s and the only reason he found himself standing at the side of her bed. It was the reason he reached out and softly brushed the hair from her face. That was why he left, just as silently as he had come. That was why he went to her side two additional times during the night.

Tony was in a sour mood that morning. He got little sleep and when he did, he was haunted by nightmares. In his dreams, Loki won. In his dreams, Loki ruled the world. In his dreams, when Loki didn’t win, Loki would betray them again and again.

The worst however, was the most recently added to his nightly collection of horrors. Loki, putting Hotaru in a cell. Loki standing over her bloody. Loki sending monsters from the depths of the universe to consume her. Loki leaving her in a bloody, broken heap for him to find.

Thor said Loki was reformed. Loki had been behaved, for the most part for the last two years. Loki fought by their side during battles. But even now, Tony Stark could only see the Loki that stood in the living space on the top floor of Stark Tower, calling a army to destroy the world.

Tony had figured checking the cameras would put his mind at ease around 11 the night prior. He could see the light coming from her open door and Tony was going to close the window until he saw him. Loki.

Tony watched as Loki went into her room. Tony watched as the shadow moved through the doorway and the light got dimmer. It was only when Tony made up his mind to go down and remove Loki from her room that he emerged, closing the door behind him.

That is how Tony spent much of his night. Clutching glass after glass of scotch and watching the hall camera. Jarvis was set to wake him at any movement in the hall, but Tony still watched. At times, he dozed. Each and every time Loki visited her room, Tony watched.

It was only when morning brought life to the tower that Tony set about going to work. He didn’t need food. He didn’t need to rest. He had coffee in his rooms and his lab. He needed to think of a way to get Hotaru to tell him why she wouldn’t talk. Only if he knew, he could fix it or hire someone if he couldn’t do it himself.

Hotaru waited again to come out of her room. Again, she had woken early with the sun. It wasn’t until nearly eight that Clint commented that she had been sleeping in. Breakfast was cooked and coffee drank by much of the team, the food was getting cold.

“Lady Stark is not still sleeping.” Thor offered in passing.

“Then why hasn’t she come to breakfast?” Clint was almost whining. He had made her perfect bacon, crispy hashbrowns and was waiting to make her an egg fresh. Reheated eggs were never good.

“It's likely that she is waiting for someone to fetch her.” Thor offered after thinking for a moment.

“Of course she is. She’s a servant, a slave. Without direction, they do nothing.” Loki’s words were sharp. Had he been the only one to realize that she wouldn’t just stop being a slave because they told her she was ‘free’?

“Loki, she is a free Lady now. She is free to come and go.” Thor was the only one who spoke, the Clint and Natasha sat in silence considering Loki’s words. Steve had left to train almost an hour ago and Tony had been absent all morning.

“Does she know how to be free? Brother, tell me, if you told one of Asgard’s slaves that they were free, all crimes forgiven, what would they do? They would leave. But if you told the same to their children, born into Asgard’s hands and working alongside their parents?” It wasn’t often they spoke of the captives Asgard collected. Their people were ones of battle and war, captives and slaves seemed to come hand in hand, though they were always treated with standards and their children could earn their freedom, few did. Most adults were prisoners of war, warriors who surrendered rather than give their lives in a lost battle and their families.

“They would remain stagnant.” Thor finally admitted.

“Loki speaks true.” Wanda’s accented voice broke the short silence that had descended. “Just as she had to learn to be a slave, she will have to learn to be free. It will take time. It is something she may well never master.”

“I’ll go check on her than.” Nat offered, standing. “Clint, get her egg going. Wanda- I don’t think she’ll ask to go shopping. I don’t think she’ll ask for anything. You’re right.”

“I will be ready after she eats.” Wanda agreed as Nat made her way to the hall. Loki was disappointed to not be the one to fetch her but it wouldn’t do to see too eager. Not when he didn’t have confirmation that Stark was watching the cameras.

Nat knocked softly on the door and was met with silence. It should have been expected yet for a moment, she waited for someone to call out to her, granting her entry. Hotaru’s silence was something that would take time to get used to. Natasha knocked again before popping her head into the room.

“It’s me.” She called as she waited for some acknowledgement from the girl. Hotaru was sitting at her desk, nose in a book that Natasha had never seen before. “What’s that?”

Hotaru lifted the book up and showed the cover.

“A history of Asgard?” Natasha read aloud. “Thor must have lent it to you. A bit heavy for my taste.” Hotaru shook her head ‘no’ as Nat was speaking.

‘Loki lent it’ Hotaru wrote out in her notebook in a pen that was just almost purple as Natasha leaned a bit over her back to read. ‘Did you put me to bed last night?’

“Nope, wasn’t me. Probably Tony checking up on you.” She shrugged as she spoke. “Come to breakfast, Firefly.”

Hotaru nodded and packed her notebook and pen back into the bag. She liked the purple pen.

“You know, you are free to come and go from your room whenever you want. Come out when you wake up, join us for breakfast whenever you want. You are welcome, you are wanted.” Nat spoke softly as they walked. It was a reminder meant just for her. The sincerity in her words was not lost on Hotaru.

When she sat, she was greeted with a warm plate of food, a fresh egg and a slice of toast. Clint was dancing to music only he could hear as he was pulling out jars and lining them up in front of her, alongside a jar of toothpicks.

“For today’s preshopping lesson,” Clint drew attention to him as he sat the last jar down. “We will learn what Hotaru likes on her toast.”

The man was far to pleased with himself but Hotaru couldn’t help smiling just the same. Each jar held a jelly, each labeled with a different fruit. There was also a few nut butters. Natasha and Wanda took places at her side and they were soon joined by Thor. Even Steve made an appearance, sweaty from training.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, using a hand towel to mop his face as Clint set to work popping open jars.

“Clint wishes to learn the Firefly’s toast preferences.” Wanda declared as Clint grabbed a toothpick and stuck it in the peanut butter, scooping some up and handing it to Hotaru.

Clint made a thumbs up, a maybe sign and a thumbs down, making it clear that those were how he wanted her to report her findings. All eyes were on here as she laughed. It would never stop being weird, to see her do something that should have sound. She offered a thumbs down and Clint removed the jar from the line up.

Steve seemed the most bothered by it, his blue eyes flicked from her to Clint and back. The others had spent more time with her, not that she had been around long. Clint just shrugged in return to his questioning gaze and handed Hotaru another toothpick, this time with a chocolate nut butter that earned a ‘maybe’.

The first spread she liked, grape jelly, ended up on her toast so she could eat her breakfast. In between bites of eggs and potatoes, she sampled the rest of the spreads. Soon, clint had a “Firefly approved” list of spreads that he intended to set out for her every morning. Eventually, the little firefly may feel safe enough, brave enough to venture into the cabinets at pick a spread herself but they were beginning to realize, that may take longer than they expected.

Loki watched from the sidelines, forgotten and ignored. As he often was. It was better to watch, see how the others would react. It allowed him to plan his own path. In the background it was easy to observe how the others interacted with her. Some were more comfortable then others. Some found her silence deafening. She interacted best with those who made points to adjust and treat her normal and so that's what he decided to do. As if that wasn’t already how he was treating her.

As they watched her eat, the people in the room each came to the realization that this would be their greatest mission. It was a unspoken agreement, each made independently within their hearts and minds. Some not even aware of it.

Their greatest project, as a team. Each and every one of them had a past, each one of them had a past, some worse than others, but none of them came as broken as she, except maybe Bucky. None knew that Loki held a broken soul as well. But most of them was strong enough on their own to recover, to reach out and accept the help they needed.

Hotaru however, they feared for her. She had no sins, she had no part in the fight. She was pure. They each decided in their hearts that they would see her healed. They would see her shine. They would protect her, guide her and eventually, she would blossom. Eventually she would shine. Like a little firefly, she would be a light in their darkness.

To them, she became a symbol without even knowing it. To the team of defenders, to the Avengers, she became the single embodiment of the innocents they fought to protect and at times failed. They would save her, for every one that they could not save during the battle. For every innocent that died, that would die, they would save her. Their redemption rested in the heart of one Hotaru Stark.

May she heal quickly so that their souls would no longer be pained by the innocents lost. May she heal quickly, so that they could heal the guilt in their hearts. May she heal.

Chapter 7

taglist: @bambamwolf87 @dangertoozmanykids101 @kristinaraven99

#loki (marvel)#loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #loki fanfiction #loki x oc #loki x ofc #loki laufeyson x oc #loki laufeyson x ofc #loki odinson x oc #loki odinson x ofc #loki of jotunheim #loki of asgard

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juliadelvecchio · 2 years ago

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Jan 23. Tompkins Ch 2 + 6

Julia Del Vecchio-- Readerly Exploration #1

Main Idea: Ch 2: Reading and writing are constructive, meaning making processes. Ch 6: The ability to read and write accurately, quickly, and with expression (known as fluency) can be developed through instruction, guided practice, and independent reading and writing.

Nuggets: While reading chapter 2, so many things stuck out to me. First, I remember reading The Giver and I absolutely loved that book! I liked the Mini Lesson to come up with literary opposites because all I could think about is how it would be such a great opportunity to learn from my students! Secondly, I remember a readers theatre performance that we did in 6th or 7th grade after reading the story of Esperanza Rising. The girls did their own play with costume changes and everything and the boys did their own; it was hilarious! Lastly, the point about using computers to write was interesting to me. I never used computers in middle school to write papers, it was always by hand. I think using a computer would be much easier, but I would also miss the traditional, old school sense of using a pencil and paper. Sadly, I do believe there are many downsides to technology for children these days. In chapter 6, i appreciated the section on prosody. It is no question that expression and phrasing play a huge part in understanding the meaning of the author. I would be interested in reading more about how to build students skills in this area.

Readerly exploration and habit: Reflect on the contributions of reading experiences to reader identity in an effort to better articulate who he or she is as a reader: Based on your successes and struggles reading this text, write down two or three goals for yourself as a reader for your next reading assignment.

As I was reading, I was reflecting on how I really struggle to read textbooks like this. I’m glad that this is an option for a readerly habit and I think it will be a good one to start with this semester because it will get me thinking about how I can get the most out of these readings. I have never been the best at reading comprehension and it is hard to focus or be engaged when the readings are pages and pages of information. I don’t find that I retain most of it unless I am taking copious notes which takes hours, and it feels like wasted time. Sometimes the big picture is hard for me to pick out and so I read and overthink every sentence to try to see where it might fit into a big picture theme or main idea when I should just read through the whole text.

For my next reading assignment in a textbook like this, my goals are to:

Begin to make a list of things from the textbook that I actually want to incorporate in my future classroom– I think this will give me a lot more motivation to read and I will take more practical content from the book

Weed out the things that aren’t as important– If I am struggling to read a section and I’m not attaching any meaning to the words while reading over them, then its time to move on to a section which I can actually grow from to make better use of my time and keep my engagement with the text (I can return to the section im struggling with later)

Either workout before reading, or read in the morning so that I can focus better/be more productive when I set out to read for long periods of time

I think this reflection was helpful in my understanding of this week's readings because it is (hopefully) a large step in becoming a better reader which is what this reading was all about. Just by setting reading goals for myself, I was able to connect more with the intent of the author of this literacy textbook. They obviously dedicated much time and effort to giving teachers more knowledge, and organized steps/systems to help make their students better readers (like explaining in detail the 5 steps of reading and writing in chapter 2, and supporting fluency development in chapter 6).

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everlarkficexchange · 7 years ago

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DUALITY

Written by: @justajjfan

Prompt 37: Her family murdered, so mail-order-bride Katniss marries Peeta who seems sweet at first; the location is remote; something unnerves her. Could Peeta have an evil twin? Or an alter ego? Is Dr. Aurelius really helping or is he not what he seems? Can she trust anyone? Even herself??? [submitted by Anonymous]

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mental health (the prompt pretty much says it all)

Acknowledgements: My thanks to the anonymous prompter. Your prompt struck a personal chord with me and I knew I had to try and do it justice. I hope I have succeeded.

To @sunsetsrmydreams. Not only was this wonderful human being my beta, she took time out from writing her own stories for EFE to make this beautiful banner for me. I also need to credit her for the title of my story. I was stuck for one and she came to my rescue. Thank you friend.

To: Everlark Fic Exchange. Thank you for giving writers the opportunity to showcase their writing skills. This has been a wonderful experience for me personally.

To: @javistg and @xerxia31. Thanks for your patience and answering all of my dumb questions. 😊

************

My eyes stay fixed on the three freshly dug holes in the ground and with so many people gathered here to say their final goodbyes, I barely register Hazelle’s whispered voice. “Katniss dear, would you like to say anything before they start?” I shake my head. What good are words. They won’t bring them back.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust……”

I should have been there. I would have heard them coming. If only I didn’t choose that night to check the snares that Gale and I had set in the early hours of the morning? If only I stayed in bed. Maybe my body would be buried in the cold, wet ground as well. That would be better.

My trembling hand reaches inside my coat pocket as I recall those words that will forever haunt me. Fingers desperate in their search to touch the one thing that calms me. “For my dandelion, always.” The note attached never revealed its giver but as I grip tightly to the silver locket running my thumb ever-so gently over the intricate painting of a dandelion, I find what I need. How fitting the rain begins to fall so heavily now as I watch the remains of my family being lowered into the ground. The heavy drops mask the tears that I ashamedly try to hide. No one will ever see me cry.

After my family were brutally murdered, the house that I was born in was no longer mine. Repossessed with all evidence of that horrific night erased, readied for a new family to move in.

The murderers were never found. Peacekeepers reported that my father was warned that his illegal dealings in the hob would inevitably catch up to him.

But my father had no enemies. Everyone knew him to be a kind, honest and hardworking man. This was one of many lies Cray and his cronies spun to cover up something far beyond my comprehension. What little possessions my family owned were sold and the money given to the undertaker as full payment for my father, mother and sisters’ burial.

Gale’s mother Hazelle insisted I stay with them but this meant another mouth to feed. After his father was killed in a mining accident, Gale took his place and worked double shifts to help support his mother and siblings. The last thing they needed was an added burden. So, marrying a stranger from one of the richer districts or the Capitol seemed my only choice.

What options were there? I had no means to support myself other than hunting but that was becoming increasingly dangerous with the spate of recent floggings and hangings. People were scared to trade with me which made my situation even more precarious. Even after the Hunger Games were abolished years ago, the Capitol kept its firm grip on each district insisting their Peacekeepers were there to enforce law and order. Sure, the reaping of our children ceased but the oppression of its people remains. There are whispered rumours of a revolution but that’s all they are…whispers.

Many women including those from the Capitol either died or became infertile after the ‘great sickness’ which left a huge demand for young, single and fertile women. The Capitol were quick to introduce the Mail-Order-Bride Initiative to combat the decrease in population. The decision to sign up was made easy and seemed the lesser of two evils after Head Peacekeeper Cray made his odious intentions clear to me.

As a token of the Capitol’s good will, I was given a small sum of coin for registering which I gladly gave to Hazelle. What I didn’t expect was to receive my summons at the end of the first week. I walked through the district in a haze…I’m going to the Capitol.

Saying my goodbyes to the Hawthorne’s was hard and the lonely walk to the train station even more so, as I stopped to take one last look around District 12. I have lived here for all my eighteen years and memories are all that’s left. There is nothing for me here.

“You don’t have to go through with this Katniss. Madge can get us into the Justice Building and file for a marriage licence. We can be married by the end of the day. It’s not too late.”

Gale rushed to meet me after his shift ended still trying to convince me to marry him. But I can’t let him sacrifice his happiness. It would be a debt I could never repay and we would hate each other in the end. His heart belongs to Madge and I could never allow my situation to come between them. He will always be the big brother that I never had and I know his future is with the kind, petite fair-haired girl waiting for him at the edge of town. As for me, my future awaits in the Capitol.

“It’s too late Gale. I was married to my husband by special proxy yesterday. It’s done!” I snap, cringing at my abruptness.

Gale stops in his tracks. “Who is it? Did they tell you?”

I shake my head. He knows the rule forbidding mail-order-brides from knowing the identity of their husbands until their first meeting. This became law and a guarantee that brides would not back out. The punishment for refusing to honour their contract was dealt with severely although it was unclear what that punishment was. These brides were never seen or heard from again.

“I’m sorry Katniss, I wish there was something I could have done.” Gale says.

“None of this is your fault and I appreciate your offer…I do but you need to go and be with Madge and have lots of babies.” I tell him, trying my best to sound positive.

Gale kisses the top of my head and hugs me tightly before releasing me. The whistle blows telling me it’s time to leave.

“I’ll write if I can.” I say as I board the train.

Taking my designated seat on the train, I look in astonishment at the opulence that surrounds me. The Capitol is out to make an impression. It’s clear no expense has been spared as I take in the shining brass, crystal and mahogany tables overflowing with food. I suppose it’s meant to ensure that the new initiative is successful but right now, I have no interest in it.

Looking out of the window as I wave to Gale, I notice another man lurking in the shadows. It’s the town drunk Haymitch Abernathy and normally I wouldn’t think twice about seeing him but something about the way he is staring at me sends a shiver down my spine. I at once shrug the feeling off. I’m being paranoid.

I’ve been travelling for a few hours and my head is already filled with so many questions, I watch the countryside pass me by, hoping to distract myself. The speed of the train is faster than anything I have ever known and I begin to wonder what life in the Capitol will be like for a girl from the Seam. What sort of man picks a bride from a catalogue and pays an undisclosed amount of money for the privilege? Will he be a kind man or a monster like Cray? Will he want children? Of course, that’s the whole idea surrounding the initiative. My stomach twists painfully at the thought.

“Miss Katniss Everdeen?” A strange voice asks.

Startled, I look up to see two men in black suits, peering down at me. Their faces void of any expression.

“Yes, I’m Katniss Everdeen.” I say, as my eyes flick from one face then to the other.

“Your paperwork please.” One of the men orders. He takes it, reading over each line carefully, giving me an appraising glance before he slaps the packet into my hand.

“Everything seems to be in order. If you will follow us Miss Everdeen.” He says, gesturing for me to stand. “Bring your belongings with you. You will not be returning.” The other man adds.

Not returning? I don’t have much in the way of possessions apart from my locket that I keep close to me. I have a change of clothing and my mother’s blue dress and hairbrush as well as Prim’s homemade soap, all neatly packed in my father’s old hunting bag.

The train stops and I am escorted off. The two black-suited men signal the guard on board, allowing the train to continue its journey. There are no buildings in sight and I can’t help feeling a little anxious.

“Why have we stopped here and why am I the only passenger to disembark? My papers state that I am to be delivered to my husband in the Capitol.” My heart rate quickens as the train begins to roll away.

“We have special orders to deliver you in person Miss Everdeen. The hovercraft is due to land in approximately three minutes.”

“Hovercraft? Where are you taking me?” I begin to shout as fear takes hold.

“Calm down Miss Everdeen! We are not at liberty to discuss details with you. Please refrain from speaking with us until we reach District 13. You will be met by your husband’s representative as soon as we land.”

“There is no District 13! You need to take me to the Capitol.” I insist but stop, hearing a strange humming sound approaching from above.

Looking up, I am stupefied at what I see. I’ve only ever seen a hovercraft on the compulsory viewing station that the Capitol insists all citizens watch but seeing one this close, doesn’t compare. I’m almost ashamed to admit my disappointment once on board. Cold, hard steel and emptiness. There doesn’t appear to be any viewing windows either so I stare into the blankness. How different from the train.

I feel like a prisoner strapped into my seat but I am told it is for my safety. The flight is long and bumpy and I am somewhat relieved when we finally land.

Flanked by the two dark-suited men, I walk out of the hovercraft onto a steel platform and from the lack of any natural light, I surmise that we must be deep underground.

There is a middle-aged man waiting at the entrance of a large door. As I draw nearer to him, there’s a kindness in his eyes that looks familiar. A calming shade of blue. I shake the thought from my head.

“Hello Katniss. Welcome to your new home.”

I shake his outreached hand and look at him curiously.

“You don’t remember me, do you? Has it been that long?” The man asks. “Your father used to bring you and your sister to my bakery every Sunday. Don’t tell me you forgot about my famous cheese buns? I believe they were your favourite.” He says proudly.

The Mellark Bakery. Yes, I remember now! “Mr Mellark?” I ask to be sure. He nods. “I don’t understand any of this. I was supposed to go to the Capitol…to my husband but I was taken off the train and brought here…to a district that doesn’t exist! And now you! Everyone said you and your family moved to the Capitol.” I exclaim in my confused state.

“Yes, we did but …” Mr Mellark begins to say. “We have a lot to discuss and I promise to tell you everything you need to know but first please accept my condolences. I was shocked to hear what happened to your family, we all were. Your husband was so distraught when he found out and wanted to send for you straight away but our agents were keeping a close eye on you and the moment you registered for the Capitol’s new initiative, we seized the opportunity.”

There’s a slight pause before Mr Mellark continues. “I know how confusing all this sounds and you must have a million questions to ask but for now I must get you settled.”

“You bet I have questions and I’d like my answers now! You can start by telling me who ‘he’ is and why have ‘agents’ been watching me?” I also want to know more about the Mellark family, but I don’t’ ask.

“All in good time my dear.” He says, gesturing for me to walk with him. “Your husband is anxious to see you but we need to get you checked by our medical staff before you can enter into the general population. Don’t worry, it’s standard procedure.” He reassures me.

My thoughts run wild as I follow Mr Mellark to some sort of medical facility and then to an examination room where a woman wearing a white coat over a grey uniform is waiting. She instructs me to strip from my clothing and step into a special shower and scrub from top to toe. Unlike Prim’s sweet-smelling lavender soap, the soap they use here has a bleach-like odour to it but I don’t dare complain.

A clean greyish cover-all is left outside the cubicle which I assume is for me to wear afterwards. I am about to dry off when another woman in a similar white coat enters the cubicle and begins to gather my clothes. My quick reflexes take the woman by surprise as I lunge for my coat. Not caring that I am wet and naked, I grasp the locket in my hand and hold it firmly to my chest.

“Don’t be alarmed. Your things will be returned to you once they are properly disinfected. She tells me reassuringly. “Extra care will be given to whatever you have in your hand, I’ll see to it myself.”

I take a few shaky breaths and relent, slowly handing over my locket. “Please…it was a special gift.” I plead, a little shocked at the sound of my quivering voice.

The woman nods and smiles kindly as she gently removes the locket from my hand. “It’s beautiful. I’ll take care of it.” She promises, before turning to head out the door.

Minutes seem to slip by as I am given several shots, vaccinations I am told and blood samples are taken. My teeth are checked and my wet hair is inspected with a special comb. Two hours later, I am given the all-clear and relieved to find Mr Mellark waiting for me at the end of the corridor.

My steps towards him quickens. “My things…they took my things and I want them back.”

“They’re already in your quarters.” He confirms. “I am sorry about all this Katniss but you may recall from your lessons in school about the ‘great sickness’ that almost wiped out all Panem. Even in our remote location, District 13 was not immune and suffered a huge loss of life. These strict health regulations were introduced soon after. Now, let’s get you to your assigned quarters. You’ve handled all of this surprisingly well but I suspect you’re tired and a rest will do you a world of good.”

Mr Mellark tells me before he leaves that he will come for me in a few hours. Relief fills me when I walk into the small bedroom and find my possessions laid out neatly on a large double bed. My locket has been placed on top of my freshly washed and pressed clothes and I frantically look it over for any signs of damage but am grateful to find none.

Feeling restless, I begin to look around my lodgings…no, ‘quarters’ Mr Mellark called it. I place my hair brush on top of the tallboy and open the first drawer to find neatly folded shirts, socks and male underwear inside. I shut the drawer quickly and take a breath feeling the rush of embarrassment spread over me. I walk over to the small closet and find pants and other items of clothing hanging. Of course, I will be living with my husband in these quarters. Isn’t that what married couples do?

I lay on the bed and try to rest but my mind is swirling with so many thoughts that I give up after an hour. To occupy my time, I decide to change into my dress and fix my hair in a braided bun. Reaching to the chain around my neck, I take the locket and rub it gently before I tuck it under my dress and sit on the couch. Nervousness aside, I want to look presentable to my husband. With nothing left to do, I wait.

There’s a knocking sound at my door and I rush to open it. Mr Mellark is on the other side with a huge grin on his face. He has changed into a fresh pair of grey pants and shirt and his hair is combed back neatly. He’s also clutching a small bouquet of wild flowers and my heart sinks. Oh God, is Mr Mellark my husband?

He notices the panicked look on my face as he greets me. “There’s nothing to be worried about Katniss, I promise you will be well looked after.”

“Are you my…are we…married? I manage to splutter out.

Mr Mellark lets out a bellowed laugh to my dismay. “No! Whatever possessed you to think such a thing?” He says regaining some composure.

My hands go to the sides of my head feeling the onset of a headache. “I’m so confused right now. Everything is happening so fast. I don’t know what to believe…or who to trust and then I see you’ve changed into fresh clothes and the flowers…and well, I thought…I…I really don’t know what I thought!”

Muffling his laughter, Mr Mellark explains. “Ah yes, I can see why you thought that. Your husband asked me to give these to you. He picked them himself. You’re not angry, are you?” I shake my head. No, the flowers are a lovely gesture.

“Good, now it’s not every day I get to witness a toasting and this one is special.” He replies. “You may be legally married on paper by the Capitol’s standards but it’s not official until you toast. Are you ready Katniss?” He asks enthusiastically.

Marriages in District 12 are not considered official until a couple perform a toasting ceremony. But we’re not in District 12 so I’m caught off guard by his eagerness.

Before registering, I was made aware of two stipulations relating to the Mail-Order-Bride contract. The first one being brides will marry their husbands by proxy. The second is that brides will engage in the marriage rituals of their husband’s district once they officially meet. Knowing full well what is expected of me, I convinced myself that these ceremonies would mean nothing. A toasting from my own district however, is something I wasn’t prepared for. I willingly signed up for this and so I give the only answer I can. “Yes.”

A lift takes us downwards and when it finally stops and the sliding doors open there is a sea of greens, reds and yellows. It’s an underground arboretum and the smell of fresh soil and pine is exhilarating.

Gathered around a cleared area is a small group of people. There’s a woman sitting on a bench that I don’t recognise but the three men who are standing next to her, I do. They all look a little older since the last time I saw them but there is no mistaking them. There is one other member of the Mellark family that is noticeably absent but I don’t care to ask.

My eyes seem to have a will of their own and lock onto the youngest son. He may not be as tall as his brothers but his broad shoulders and obvious muscular physique does not go unnoticed. He glances at me but quickly looks away. His face blushes red.

In the corner of my eye, I see a lone figure of a man in a dark suit, standing to attention.

“It’s okay Katniss, he’s just an official that is required to witness the toasting. Our independence from the Capitol came with special dispensations. This was one of them.” Mr Mellark explains. I make a mental note to add this to my growing list of questions.

“Now, you remember my sons?” He asks as we walk closer to the group. Brandon the eldest and Rye the middle son both greet me with wide smiles as I nod, my mouth gaped open not knowing what to say.

“The young woman seated over there is Brandon’s wife Lavinia. She’s unable to speak but is happy to be here for your toasting.” The woman called Lavinia smiles and waves shyly.

“Peeta, aren’t you going to say hello?” Mr Mellark gestures for Peeta to move closer to me.

Peeta takes a few hurried steps towards us then takes a deep breath before speaking. “H-h-hello Katniss. I’m Peeta Mellark…your husband.”

My knees start to buckle beneath me but I manage to stay upright. “Hello Peeta.” His name falls from my lips in a whisper and I am suddenly struck with a rush of heat from within. It has been over four years since I saw him last and now…I am his wife.

Memories flood my thoughts. Catching Peeta glaring at me in school or in passing and how he would quickly avert his gaze just like he did moments ago. He was shy but as time went by, I noticed a shift in his mannerism. Peeta’s sweet smile was replaced by a blank almost vacant look and he became withdrawn. We never spoke, not really. Only sharing fleeted glances but I felt a strange sense of loss when he and his family moved to the Capitol.

“You…you were the one who bought me?” My words sound cold and I want to kick myself.

The smile on his face disappears. “Please Katniss, don’t say it like that. I wanted to come for you. I tried but…” He stops to take a breath. “This was the only way and you’re safe now…with me…and you look beautiful and you’re my wife.” He babbles.

“She got that part dummy! Get to the toasting already!” His brother Rye yells impatiently. “Ow! That hurt.” He protests, rubbing the back of his head.

“It was meant to!” Brandon says, sounding rather pleased with himself at his quick delivery of a slap to Rye’s head.

“You’re doing great Peeta, keep going.” His oldest brother says encouragingly.

All this adds to my confused and overwhelmed state but when I look to Peeta, there’s a sadness in his eyes. He looks down at his feet and nods muttering under his breath before speaking. I barely catch it. “I wanted to come for you Katniss…but I had to get better.”

He had to get better?

Mr Mellark places his hand on Peeta’s shoulder. “We can talk about this later son reflection time is almost over.” His father announces.

Peeta lifts his head and straightens his shoulders “Yes, I’m sorry.” Clearing his throat, Peeta looks at me and I am mesmerised by how blue his eyes are. “Katniss Everdeen, I would very much like for you to toast with me, if you will allow it.” He says sweetly.

Those words hit me like a ton of bricks. I am bound to Peeta by the marriage laws of Panem and that should be enough but how can I deny him? I could have done a lot worse. “Yes, I’ll allow it.”

Peeta smiles and whispers under his breath before walking over to Lavinia who is still seated on the bench. She hands him a small covered tray and he thanks her before bringing it me. “I’m sorry we can’t light a fire but I toasted the slices in the kitchen ovens myself. They’re still warm.”

He carefully removes the clean cloth and at that precise moment my stomach begins to rumble at the aroma of freshly toasted bread. I realise I haven’t eaten since this morning. “We get to eat at the end of reflection.” Peeta whispers smilingly.

Everyone gathers around as Peeta and I begin to toast. It is a simple tradition, one that dates back hundreds of years but to those from my district, it is one that has special meaning. No words are needed. Just the feeding of toasted bread to each other which signifies a couple’s commitment to love and protect one another no matter what.

Peeta gently places a piece of toasted bread in my mouth and tells me he will always protect me. I chew slowly trying to think of something to say. The words “thank you” spill from my mouth as I feed him my piece of bread and I know as soon as I say them, how inadequate they must seem but he smiles and chews. It is done…we are now bound together by the laws of District 12.

There’s shouts of ‘hooray’ and ‘congratulations’ from Peeta’s brothers and father. Lavinia walks over to us smiling and hugs us both. I look to see the dark-suited man is walking towards the lift satisfied that we followed the rules. I turn to Peeta and catch him staring at me but this time he doesn’t look away. Neither do I. Before long, a woman’s voice comes through the loud speaker announcing reflection time has finished and dinner will be served in the communal dining hall.

As we enter the dining hall, I begin to feel a little intimidated by the large number of people gathered in one place. Peeta tells me this is where everyone in the district eats regardless of rank or position. “Don’t let their stares worry you. They do that to all new comers.” Peeta must sense my discomfort and is quick to reassure me.

He sits next to me, handing me a rather large serving of meat and vegetable stew that smells amazing with two freshly baked bread rolls on the side. I question where his meal is and he tells me he wasn’t hungry so he piled his serving onto mine. That won’t do.

“No Peeta, I’m not going to take your food. You’re going to share this meal with me or I don’t eat either. Okay?” I say stubbornly handing him a heaped spoonful of stew.

“Okay.” He yields and eats the first spoonful before filling it with more stew to hand back to me.

“Aww, look guys they’ve only been married an hour and she’s already bossing baby brother about.” Rye says but quickly looks down to his food and continues to eat quietly after both Mr Mellark and Brandon give him a look. Lavinia who has been quiet, covers her mouth trying to hide her smile.

After we finish eating, I listen intently to Mr Mellark and Brandon talk about life in District 13. How everyone is assigned duties for the common good of each citizen. There are three square meals a day and everyone has the freedom to speak their own mind without the fear of receiving a lashing or something worse. Brandon calls it ‘democracy’. Everyone undergoes basic military training and thirteen has its own elite Peacekeeping squads. I cringe at the mention of Peacekeepers but Peeta tells me they are nothing like the ones back in District 12.

When Brandon tells me that every citizen in thirteen has access to free ‘state of the art’ medical care, I think of my mother and sister. They were natural born healers and would have flourished here. Their knowledge of herbal medicines and salves would have proven invaluable. Peeta sees me deep in thought and gently brushes my hand with his fingers. Surprisingly, I don’t flinch at the sudden contact. In fact, I find it comforting.

The overall running of the district falls to President Alma Coin and she was instrumental in freeing District 13 from the tyranny that is the Capitol.

It doesn’t seem fair. How could District 13 thrive in secret and ignore the sufferings of others? There is so much more I want to know but that annoying woman on the loud speaker announces meal time is over and sleep time is due to start. Everyone adheres to these rules and only those with specifically assigned roles are exempt. This will take some getting used to.

Peeta slides the door open and waits for me to enter our quarters first. I take small hesitant steps inside and I can’t help feeling nervous. This is my wedding night after all but I’ve never done anything like this.

“I know what you’re thinking Katniss but you don’t have to worry. I would never do anything to hurt you or do anything you don’t want. I’ll be sleeping on the couch.”

“We’re married now Peeta. I’m supposed to obey my husband.” I say almost robotically.

“No! I don’t want you to obey me Katniss. I didn’t marry you like this for you to think you owe me or you have a duty to fulfil. That’s not why I did it.”

“Then why did you do it Peeta?”

He pauses. “You’ve gone through so much. Losing your whole family and your home. I knew you were out of options when you registered for this initiative. The thought of someone touching you, hurting you like they did to Lavinia. It would kill me.”

Peeta stops. He shakes his head not wanting to continue but I insist. “Did someone hurt Lavinia?” He nods, closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath.

“Lavinia was a mail-order-bride too. Her husband was a cruel man from the Capitol. She couldn’t fall pregnant and so he sold her because she was ‘flawed goods’. She was assigned to an escort agency but refused to service their clientele. As punishment, they cut out her tongue and shipped her to District 11 to work in the fields. Lavinia’s an Avox.”

My breathing stops as I take this all in. Lavinia never said a word during our toasting or dinner because…she couldn’t.

“How did she get to be here?”

“Lavinia and a few others from District 11 devised a plan to escape. Brandon and his squad were on a routine reconnaissance mission when they found her, barely alive. The other escapees never made it. The thought of something like that happening to you…”

Peeta’s clenches his hands into tight fists and I can see the tips of his knuckles turning white. “I won’t let anyone hurt you Katniss.”

I take his hands in mine and bring them to my lips softly kissing them. “I know, because you will always keep me safe.” I say to him softly.

Peeta nods and stares into my eyes and I wonder if he will kiss me but he doesn’t. “We’ve both had a big day. I think we should get ready for bed.” He says bringing me back from my thoughts. “I’d like to show you around tomorrow if you like. I’ve been relieved of my duties for a few days and it may take some time before you are assigned one. It’s not home but after a while you’ll see that it’s really not so bad here.”

It’s not home but I will try and settle in for his sake.

We take turns in the bathroom and ready ourselves for bed. Peeta has already laid blankets and a pillow on the couch and makes himself comfortable.

“Good night Katniss. I’m so happy you’re here with me.” He says from the couch.

“I’m happy I’m here with you too. Good night Peeta.” I say softly before entering the bedroom and turning off the lights.

I have been in District 13 for ten days now and still haven’t been assigned any duties but Peeta tells me to enjoy my free time while I can. He leaves in the early hours of the morning to work in the kitchen bakery until midday then he comes back to our quarters to shower and change. The rest of the afternoon and night are ours to spend as we wish and quite often Peeta takes me down to the underground arboretum during reflection time because he knows how much I enjoy being there.

Things progress slowly between us. We both agreed to share the bed after I would wake in the middle of the night from one of my nightmares only to hear Peeta whimpering in his sleep. His nightmares would often leave him shaking and calling out for me. So, every night he holds me in his arms and I rest my head on his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart which always lulls me to sleep. Peeta says that holding me in his arms helps him too. I’m glad.

Most mornings, Peeta wakes up smiling and eager to get to work so he can spend the rest of the day with me. But these last two days have been a struggle for him and even though he tries to shake it off and tell me that he’s just tired, I know there’s something more.

Walking back to our quarters after dinner, Peeta places his arm around my waist and I snuggle closer to his body, letting him know I’m perfectly okay with it even though I was a little annoyed with him earlier. Peeta snapped at me today when I asked about his mother. I remember her always angry and almost every day she could be heard yelling at her boys. Peeta mostly.

‘I’m sorry I got angry today Katniss. I’ve been a little edgy lately but I promise things will get better soon.” Peeta tells me.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. You know that, right?” He nods. “You’ve been a bit out of sorts lately but you know whatever it is, you can talk to me. We shouldn’t have any secrets between us.” I tell him honestly, remembering how my parents would always discuss things together. “You’re not sick of me already?” I add jokingly.

Peeta turns me to face him and cups my face in his hands. “Don’t say that Katniss…don’t ever say that.” He says pleadingly and kisses me softly on the lips. This is the first time Peeta has kissed me there and the tingly feeling leaves me wanting more but we are interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

I turn around to see an older gentleman with spectacles looking a little flustered. “Oh, my apologies for the intrusion but I’ve been looking all over for this young man. Your father said you were heading back to your quarters.” The man continues.

“I haven’t seen you for a few days now and my secretary informed me that you keep cancelling your appointments.”

Peeta doesn’t say anything and holds onto me tightly.

The man turns his attention to me. “Ah, this must be your beautiful bride Katniss. I’m pleased to finally meet you. Peeta has told me so much about you during our sessions. I feel like I know you already. I’m sorry, where are my manners. Let me introduce myself, I’m Dr Albert Aurelius.”

Peeta spoke about me before? I take the doctor’s offered hand and shake it. “I wasn’t aware that Peeta was sick. Is there something I should know?” I ask, turning to my husband.

Peeta looks to the doctor but doesn’t comment. There’s a look of anger in his eyes and I know he’s keeping something from me.

“I’m afraid that is a discussion you need to have with your husband.” Dr Aurelius replies. “Peeta, I can only stress the importance of you sticking to our scheduled appointments. Now, I have some free time tomorrow around 2:00pm. You can bring Katniss along. I’d be happy to speak with both of you.”

“No! I don’t want Katniss to be there.” Peeta practically shouts and I find myself a little hurt at this rejection.

“Very well Peeta, but I still expect to see you in my office tomorrow at 2:00pm.” The doctor confirms.

Peeta only nods in agreement. Dr Aurelius smiles and bids his farewell before leaving in the opposite direction.

Perhaps I’m being a little hasty in my decision but I instantly feel distrust towards this doctor.

Peeta doesn’t say anything and I decide to stay silent for a few minutes but my head is full of questions that needs answers. “Why do you need to see a doctor Peeta, are you sick?” I finally ask.

“No. He’s not that kind of doctor.” Peeta answers trying to be non-committal.

“Well then, what kind of doctor is he?”

Peeta is silent as we approach our quarters choosing to ignore me.

“Peeta, you’re not answering my questions. If there is something wrong with you I think I should know.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me! Why does everyone say there is!” Peeta’s tone grows harsh.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.” I say as I take a step back.

“Forget it! Just leave it…maybe he was right all along.”

“He? Peeta, who’s he? Dr Aurelius? Maybe I should go with you and see this doctor tomorrow.” I say, trying not to let my emotions carry me away.

“Drop it Katniss. I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t want you talking to Dr Aurelius okay! Things will get better, you’ll see.” Peeta stops at our door and slides it open with such force that it rattles.

He’s talking in riddles and it’s infuriating. “No, I won’t drop it. We need to talk. I want to help you.” I demand as we walk into our quarters.

Peeta has his back to me. “He doesn’t need your help!” A voice sounds and I look around the room thinking that someone snuck into our quarters without me noticing. But there’s no one here but Peeta and I.

I must have imagined it. So much has happened to me these last few months that my mind is surely playing tricks on me. Did I just here Peeta say ‘he’? Before I can say anything, Peeta tells me he is going to get ready for bed and closes the bathroom door behind him muttering to himself.

Pacing the room, I wait for Peeta to finally come out of the bathroom as thoughts run through my head like a freight train. The subject about his mother was brushed aside and he did the same with Dr Aurelius just now.

Initially, going into the Mail-Order-Bride Initiative without feeling or care was just a means of survival. I would never allow myself to have a strong connection with my husband but this is Peeta! Whether it was luck or fate that brought us together, I know I have an important role to play in all of this.

I no longer want to be that lonely girl from District 12. No! I’m his wife now and I’m going to help him get through whatever this is and to do that we need to talk about everything, even the deep stuff. I have that right, don’t I?

When Peeta finally comes out from the bathroom, I meet him by the couch.

My heart feels like it’s going to explode from my chest but this needs to start somewhere. “Peeta, where is your mother?” I finally ask the question that has been playing on my mind.

He sighs deeply and shakes his head. “You don’t need to worry about her Katniss. She can’t hurt either of us ever again.”

But that answer does nothing to satisfy my curiosity so I ask him again. “But what happened to her.”

“I’d rather not talk about her right now, okay?” Peeta begins to rub his hands nervously against the fabric of his pyjama pants before standing abruptly to pace the room.

“No, you can’t keep brushing me off like this. We need to talk about it.”

“Please Katniss, I don’t want to talk about her, not now…just not now!”

“When Peeta? You keep saying that. We can’t start our lives together with secrets.” I start to explain but am interrupted by Peeta…only it’s not his voice.

“HE SAID HE DOESN’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT HER!” The words coming from Peeta’s mouth are sharp and cold. What is happening?

“Peeta?” I reach out my hand to touch him but he pushes me away.

“LEAVE PEETA ALONE!” He growls.

The voice coming from Peeta’s lips is not his. Unfamiliar and much deeper, it hits me like a punch. I watch in disbelief as his face morphs, revealing a cold, fierce expression, the line of his jaw clenched, making his features appear more angular. When I catch his eyes I shiver, the pupils have blown, changing from a deep blue to an unending pool of black. Am I imagining all this? I don’t know if I can trust what I’m seeing. “Peeta please, what’s wrong.”

“I SAID LEAVE PEETA ALONE!” Peeta is looking down at me but when I look to his eyes it’s not Peeta that I see. Fear races up my spine.

He is staring angrily at me and those dark eyes shake me to the core. My body starts to tremble as I take the few backward steps needed to reach the door. With my hands behind my back, I feel for the door handle and once I have it in my hand, I slide it open and run. I run so fast that I don’t realise I have gone down six flights of emergency exit stairwells before I stop to catch my breath.

I search for somewhere to hide. Somewhere I can sort out in my head what I just saw. Do I even trust myself to believe it? As I frantically look around my surroundings, I find a small storage room that is unlocked and rush inside locking the door behind me. I crawl behind some shelving and curl my knees tightly to my chest. I reach for my locket bringing it to my lips and I do something that I have not done in a long while. I begin to cry. Salty tears sting my eyes and the more I try to supress them, the more they flow.

Oh God! That wasn’t Peeta.

#Springtime Edition 2018 #justajjfan #Prompt 37 #submission

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