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helliontherapscallion · 4 years ago

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(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Thursday (Part 2)

Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday (Part 1) Friday Saturday Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: panic attacks, swearing, puking, concussions, mentions of injuries/bullying, homophobia

Word count: 5,138

After school, you were sitting on the couch as you furiously typed on your keyboard at an extremely fast pace. You were on a roll with these essays, they were probably going to be finished by the time you had to go back to the school to get on the bus with the team. You figured that you could even finish Annie’s essay and get started on Sammy’s US history presentation on the sociopolitical climate of the United States in the mid twentieth century to today. However, instead of covering a variety of topics like the rubric requested you to do, you were only going to talk about the significant events that happened to the LGBT+ community starting with Stonewall and going to Obergefell v. Hodges. You were also going to go in depth about how even if there are more opportunities available and more laws set in place to protect for LGBT+ people in the present then there were in past, members of the LGBT+ community still suffer heavy discrimination in the workplace and in the public. With receipts of course, the assignment required a minimum of three pictures per slide, and the group chat was a perfect source.

After that was done, you would email Sammy’s teacher (you had her last year for US history and you knew that she had a son in the grade below you currently transitioning from female to male) that you were the one that did her project and send screenshots of Sammy calling you slurs. Luckily for you, you had receipts of her being transphobic in the past that you could also send. Everything was effortlessly falling into place for you today.

As you were typing, the front door swung open and two overly excited fifth graders ran into the house and up the stairs. A tired Schlatt followed them. “I will never know how the hell Phil keeps up with them.”

“I dunno, maybe because he’s already raised three kids before.”

You watched as your uncle jumped and whipped his head over towards you, his hand clutching his chest. He lightly glared at you, “christ kid don’t do that, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

You smirked at him before turning back to your laptop to continue typing the essay. You were almost done with the conclusion paragraph on Annie’s essay and you wanted to get to Sammy’s presentation as fast as possible. As you were typing, you felt a warm air fan across your neck and your uncle’s voice right next to your ear, “whatcha typin?”

You lept off the couch and almost fell into the coffee table before steadying yourself and deadpanning at Schlatt. “I was typing an essay before you interrupted me.”

He snorted, “it looked like you were on a roll, just thought I’d see what my beloved niece was writing. Can I read it?”

Your eyes lit up as an excited grin split your cheeks, “yeah, but lemme catch you up real quick. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie got mad at me a few days ago and wanted me to do some homework for them as a sort of payment. But after they pulled that little stunt in the lunchroom yesterday, they decided to be little bitches to me and call me slurs. So naturally, I decided to change the essay prompt into an in depth analysis about discrimination LGBT people face from their peers on the daily. My english teacher’s really against homophobia and the project’s worth twenty five percent of our overall grade, so it’s perfect.”

While you were rambling on and on about your detailed plot for revenge, Schlatt couldn’t help but be proud of the person you’d become. A major part of him was impressed that you came up with a detailed plan so quickly, that meant that his cunning nature was rubbing off on you and that made him ecstatic. Sure you mentioning not being straight was new to him, but he was prepared to accept you for whatever you identified as. He didn’t care how people identified, he just cared if they were good people. And his niece was one of the best kids he knew. He’d let your slip up slide for now until you felt comfortable enough to properly come out to him.

“That an amazing plan, fuckin brilliant. Though, you could do more.”

That piqued your interest, “I’m listening.”

“Do you have any blackmail?”

Your eyes glinted with sudden understanding, “why yes I do, uncle dearest. I just so happen to have thousands of texts from them talking shit about each other and basically the entire school. And them being incredibly racist. They would be destroyed if that came out.”

“Two things. One, never call me that again. Two, perfect. Keep it as leverage if they try to do something. You don’t pull out all the good cards in the first round, you wait for the right moment to strike so you can win. You need to constantly defend yourself against other players and anticipate their every move. If you leak everything right now, you won’t have anything to use against them if they have something up their sleeve you didn’t know about. Patience is key in things like this.”

You absorbed every single word that came out of his mouth like it was the holy gospel. Although he was your uncle and you loved him with all your heart, but he was a sly bastard when he wanted to be. He knew his way around fighting and manipulating people just right, so you were incredibly happy that you were on his good side and he absolutely adored you. Though questionable and morally gray, he was giving you advice because he cared about you and you’d be an idiot to not heed his advice.

“That’s genius, Uncle Schlatt. What would I do without you?”

“You’d get along just fine without me, you would’ve gotten there eventually. You’re smart. I’m just givin you a little push in the right direction.”

“I honestly would’ve never thought about waiting, I was so dead set on getting revenge that I would’ve just leaked everything all at once. I want them to feel how I felt when they were around me. I-” you paused. Would this make you the same as them? You’d be screwing up all their grades, Adrian’s job, and Sammy’s athletic career. You came to the chilling realization that you’d be the same as them. You’d be as manipulative as they were. “...Uncle Schlatt, would that make me the same as them?”

“Fuck no! You’re always gonna be better than them no matter what. When they’re at their best, you’re always gonna be a whole lot better than them. They deserve what’s happening to them, it sounds like they put you through so much shit the past few years. I actually think you could do a whole lot worse to them if you’re willing to put more work in, but it’s your plan and if you think that what you’re doing is too much,” he darkly chuckled, “you wouldn’t like my idea.”

“You’re right, they deserve everything I have planned for them. God, I don’t know what I was thinking, ‘would that make me the same as them,’” you mocked what you said earlier, “what a load of shit. Anyways, thanks Uncle Schlatt. I’m gonna get back to writing this. They’re due tomorrow and I wanna finish as much as I can before I have to go.”

“Alright, whaddya want for dinner? Phil’s gonna be like thirty minutes late from work so I’m cookin tonight.”

Oh no. No, no, no, no. That man can barley cook boxed mac n cheese, let alone anything else. He’d burn down the house if you left him alone in the kitchen with the stove. “On second thought, why don’t I help you with dinner? We can make some chicken alfredo.”

“Awe, you’d rather hang out with me than finish your homework? Ya really do love me. C’mon let’s start.”

The process of making dinner was… interesting. Multiple times, Schlatt almost spilled boiling water on himself and he even managed to burn the pasta while it was in the water. How he even managed to do that you’d never find out, you had your back turned cutting up vegetables and herbs at the time. That was when you subtly started to take over in the kitchen, giving him smaller tasks while you handled everything else. You felt bad for Tubbo, his father can’t cook for shit.

By time you finished, about an hour passed and Philza had come home and changed out of his work clothes. The two adults sat at the table discussing something that you didn’t pay attention to while your brothers and cousin were in the living room waiting for you to finish dinner. Finally, you set the table and it was time to eat.

Because you couldn’t have many fatty foods before any matches or practices, you had made a separate plate for yourself that only had plain pasta, chicken, and broccoli. You were surprised with how well it turned out, you were following an iffy recipe you found on the first link Google brought up.

After dinner, you went upstairs to put your uniform on and pack a little bag full of things you might need: a small blanket, some snacks, a water bottle, and a portable charger. Oh, and fuzzy socks and a pair of crocs. You could never go wrong with fuzzy socks and crocs. Feeling a vibration in your pocket, you pulled out your phone.

Hales : )

(Y/n), I’m omw to your house

Gonna give you a ride to the school

(Y/n)

Hales you don’t have to give me a ride, I can drive

Hales : )

Don’t care

Omw, be there in like 7 mins

You swiped out of yours and her conversation and opened up the family group chat

(Y/n)

I don’t need a ride to the school, Haley’s giving me one

She’s gonna give me a ride home too

Dadza

Alright, thank her for me

Tell her I said good luck too!

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do

Dadza

(Y/n), do everything he wouldn’t do

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Fuck you I’m a good influence

Dadza

You’re really not

Wilby

^^^^

Technology Sword

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Fuck all of you

You heard Haley’s car pull into the driveway and dashed out of your room with your bag. Just as you put your hand on the doorknob, a hand stopped you.

“Coat.”

You grumbled as you reached past Philza to grab your coat. After you slipped it on, you were pulled into a hug. “You’re gonna do great out there. I know you’re gonna win this, we’ll be watching in the stands.”

“Damn right she’s gonna do good, she’s my niece after all.”

Schlatt pulled you away from your father’s hug and tried to ruffle your hair before you swatted away his hand, “don’t. You have no idea how long it took me to get a perfect ponytail. I have an ungodly amount of hairspray and bobby pins in my hair right now.”

“Fine. You’re gonna kick their asses tonight.”

Tommy and Tubbo pushed past Schlatt and both tackled you into a hug making you stumble slightly back.

“Kick their asses good (y/n)!” Tommy cheered, making you crack up before one stern glance from Philza completely stopped you. “Tommy, don’t say that. (Y/n), not funny.”

“Alright, Haley’s waiting for me. I gotta go, love you guys!” As you turned to walk through the door, you could hear your family following you and shouting “good luck”. You felt heat creep up on your cheeks as Haley rolled down her window and wove at your family with the biggest grin on her face.

“Thank you! We’re gonna take home the gold for sure!”

You hopped in her car as she rolled up the window and chuckled. “I love your family, they’re always so full of energy. It’s refreshing to see compared to how boring my family is.”

You glanced at your entire family gathered on the front porch. Tommy and Tubbo were practically vibrating with excitement, Wilbur and Techno calmly smiled and wove at you, Philza was grinning widely at you as you saw his mouth forming words that you couldn’t hear or read, and Schlatt was grinning cheekily at you. You raised your hand to wave at them as they vanished from view when Haley pulled out of your driveway. You smiled softly, “I love em too.”

The car ride was relatively quick with the same soft indie pop music floating from the speakers and an easy going conversation with Haley about the match tonight. You both thought that you could beat the other team if everyone focused 100% and played exactly like you guys did in practices. If everyone did that, you would be unstoppable.

Luckily for you and Haley, you were the first ones in line to board the bus so you two got the back seat with Zara and Jazzy sitting across from you guys. The hour long bus ride passed quickly and lively with you four passing around your phone and playing some mad libs, you were sure that by the end of the last game you four were laughing and crying. Sometime in the middle of the trip, you noticed that Haley would start to lean on your shoulder and continuously glance at you as she laughed. You desperately wanted to believe that it was because she liked you, but she was straight and she was your best friend. She was probably trying to make sure you were having a good time.

When the team had gotten to the opposing school and left the locker room to stretch in the gym, you could hear your family start to scream your and Haley’s names from the front row next to you, Tommy and Tubbo being the loudest amongst them with Philza trying to get them to quiet down so you could focus. You felt your cheeks heat up as you smiled at them and Haley wove enthusiastically back at them. Zara was laughing at you two. Stretching went by in a flash and before you knew it, you were on the court facing the opposing team.

The first match was won by the opposing team by five points. The second match stretched on and on until it was won by your team narrowly by two points. The team was going to have to shape up in the third match if you guys wanted a chance at winning, the opposing team was good. Before the third match started, Coach Williams called for a time out so you guys could talk about strategy. Before Haley could go back onto the court, you pulled her aside.

“Hales, we need to do what we practiced. The other team won’t be expecting it at all, I’ve been setting you up this entire game. They’re never going to expect you setting me up for a spike.”

“When are we going to do it though? We need a better plan.”

“I’m sure the opportunity will come and both of us will recognize it. We just can’t do it too early in the game though, that’ll ruin their surprise.”

“(Y/n), I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“When do I not Hales? We gotta get gold this year.”

The third round went by with both teams constantly swapping places until you both were tied fifteen to fifteen. You saw the ball flying towards Haley, giving her the perfect opportunity to set you up for a spike. “HALEY NOW!”

You watched as her face hardened in determination as she pretended like she was going to spike it by jumping high in the air and stretching her arms back, making the opposing front row players all gather in front of her. Much to their surprise, she launched it towards you as you leaped up and went for the kill. The stinging of the ball hit by your wrist and the smack sound the ball made when it slammed onto the open gym floor was something you’d never forget as the crowd around you went wild over the unexpected play. You could hear the high pitched screaming of Tommy and Tubbo over everybody else. Glancing at them over your shoulder, you saw them jumping up and down on the gym floor and looking at you with awe filled eyes and gaping mouths. The rest of your family looked at you with similar expressions, their cheers echoing in your mind. Winking at them, you turned back to your team and went straight to Haley. Clapping a hand on her shoulder, you pulled her into a quick hug, yelling over the raving of the crowd. “HALEY WE NAILED THAT!”

“HOLY SHIT I DID NOT THINK THAT WAS ACTUALLY GONNA WORK!”

“You have such little faith in your setter! You wound me Hales.”

“Well, I would have more faith in you if you weren’t chaotic on the court, sweetheart.”

You felt yourself surge in happiness at the nickname, but you couldn’t afford to focus too much on it. Your team only needed one more point to win best in the state and go to nationals. It would be the first time in your team’s history if you reached national level, and you’d be damned if you were the one to screw it up for them.

The last rotation went on for a while, each team fighting tooth and nail for the state championship title with clashing determination. You tried your best to block every hit and try to set Haley up for a spike, and you were successful for the most part, only missing a few blocks. You saw the setter adjacent to you set the spiker up for a spike and jumped up in time to try to block it, your arms stretched upwards and your palms out. Only, the ball didn’t hit your hands. It collided painfully with your nose, ricocheted off your face with a thwack and sailed over to the other side of the court. Your head whipped back as your body followed suit and flew backwards onto the floor. Without giving you any time to react, your head bounced back and cracked against the polished hardwood floor of the gym. Everything went black.

“...(y……”

“..(y/n)......”

“(Y/n).”

You faintly heard someone calling someone’s name over the continuous ringing noise. Was it your name? It felt right, so it had to be your name. You peeled your eyes open to see a blurry figure hovering over you. It was swirled with tans, browns, and backs. After a while of the figure repeating your name, it slowly became more recognizable, albeit appearing twice in your vision. It took you a while to figure out who this was before your muddled brain recognized Haley.

“Hales! There’s two o’ya. Twice as beautiful babe…” You slurred out as you attempted to smile at her.

“Oh thank god, PLEASE WE NEED A DOCTOR SHE HIT HER HEAD!” Her usually angelic voice gritted against your brain like sandpaper making you cringe as pain exploded in your head.

“God babe you’re so loud, why’s so bright? I-wha's goin on?” You blearily tried to move your head to look around only to be stopped by a pair of large hands on each side of your head gently holding it in place. You moved your laggy eyes around to look at the figure. He was a blonde man with blue eyes and a hint of stubble on his chin. His eyebrows were knitted together and he looked… he looked… your brain worked to figure out why he looked how he looked. Who was he?

“Please don’t move hun.” His muffled voice was baritone. You squinted at him trying to figure out who this man was.

“Who th f-fuck… why?”

“I’m your dad hun. Do-do you not recognize me?” You made a noise in the back of your throat as your stuffy brain finally put a name to the face.

“Dad- wha’s goin on? I’on feel so good…”

“Shh, I know, I know. Just stop moving and talking. Everything’s fine. I’m here. You’re okay.”

“Mmk… Dad, where are we? I’ont know- you’re so quiet.”

“Stop moving so much. You’re on the floor in a gym. You just won your team the state championship. Now stop talking please.”

Huh. So that’s why everybody seemed to appear from above you. You strained your eyes to look around you, but you could only see your dad’s face hovering above you. “Shit I- who’s aroun’ me? Where’s Hales?”

“I’m right here sweetheart. I got the doctor, Mr. Minecraft.”

Your dad’s face moved away from your vision so fast that it made your head spin and your stomach twist. Another face appeared above you that you once again didn’t recognize.

“I’m Doctor Martin, can you tell me your first and last name?”

“Uh, (y/n) Minecraft?”

“Good, what month are we in right now?”

“Nov-November?”

“Close, it’s late October. Can you tell me who this,” he pointed to your dad, “is?”

“S’my dad Phillip.”

“That’s your dad Philza.”

The questioning stopped as he suddenly shined a blinding light into your sensitive eyes. You hissed as you tried to move your head away from the offending light only to be held in place by your dad’s hands. Your head spun as you moved too quickly and a wave of nausea hit you, making you groan and move your arm to cover your eyes. Your hand was stopped by something warm and soft wrapping around it and holding it tightly. Everything was so overwhelmingly and painfully bright and loud. You wanted to make it stop.

“Mr. Minecraft, your daughter appears to have a concussion. I don’t have the tools on hand to determine the severity of it, but it’s worrying that her pupils are asymmetrical, she’s delirious, and has slight memory loss. I understand you live about an hour away from here, and it’s alright for you to take her to a hospital closer to your house. Make sure you keep her alert.”

Your delirious mind only registered about half of what came out of the doctor’s mouth. You mumbled gibberish as you once again opened your eyes to look around. You were only briefly able to crane your neck to the left. Several figures large and small were standing behind your dad. Your family, your mind supplemented. Slowly, your mind was starting to recognize your surroundings even if there was currently double of everything and everything was blurry.

“I’m going to help you stand up. Do ya think you can do that?”

“Yeah Dad.” You lifted your upper body off from the ground with a gentle hand on your back helping you sit up. Fighting the wave of nausea that slapped you in the face, you reached up to rub at your eyes. A hand once again stopped you. You peeked your eyelids open and lightly glared at whomever stopped you. “Hales you’re lucky you’re so cute I woulda slapped you. I like holdin but you’re bein annoying. Stop.” You attempted to make your voice sound firm, but the words that came out of your mouth were slightly slurred.

She was silent as she helped her dad haul you to your feet. Once on your feet, you saw the room spin and felt yourself start to sway slightly. An arm wrapped itself around your shoulders and pulled you close to them so that your weight was supported. They were a little taller than you were making it easy to lean on them.

“...Can you walk?” A deep, monotone voice rumbled the chest of the person you were leaning against.

“Mhm. ‘M not weak.” Though your limbs felt like they were made of molasses, you placed one foot in front of the other slowly. The person moved alongside you, “you’re doing so good, keep going.” That sparked familiarity in you as you stopped in your tracks and tried to look up at the person you were leaning against making the person tighten their arm around your shoulders when you almost fell over.

“Tech?”

“Yeah, it’s Technoblade. Just focus on walking. You’re almost out of the gym.”

When you realized that you were out of the gym, you sighed in relief. It was so much quieter and darker. Though it was still relatively bright, it was better than the gym.

“S’better.”

“When we get her to the car we can give her some sunglasses or something if it’s still too bright for her.”

“Wilbs-”

“Focus on walking.”

You huffed in irritation, “don’ tell me what to do bitch.”

You felt Techno’s body jolt slightly as he chuckled, making your head throb at the sudden movement. “Just walk.”

When you walked outside, you shivered as you felt the cool air nip at your exposed skin. Right, you were in your volleyball uniform. “I’ll go pull the car around, you guys stay with her.”

You saw a tall brunet start to walk away from you. Uncle Splat? Uncle Schmat? Whatever his name was, you were sure he was your uncle. You tried to snuggle closer to Techno, craving warmth but never being satisfied. Where was your uncle?

After a while, you saw a car moving towards you and blinding light pointed right at you making you cringe away and groan. Techno started to slowly walk towards the car. “C’mon (y/n), you’re almost there. When you’re in the car you can relax.”

“Tommy, Tubbo, and Techno, you’re in the back row. Schlatt can drive and Wil, you’re taking the passenger seat. I’ll stay with her in the middle row so she can have some room to lay down.” Tommy and Tubbo were with you? Why weren’t they talking, they usually were very vocal.

“Tom, Tubbs didja like the game?”

They didn’t say anything as they climbed into the car. Did they not hear you?

“They’re just… tired (y/n).” Your dad’s voice reassured you as he took Techno’s place holding you up.

“I wanna nap. ‘M so tired.”

“You can’t sleep yet. We gotta get you to a doctor first.”

“Mm. Makes sense.”

“Let’s get you in the car hun.”

As he helped you climb into the car, you felt an overwhelming wave of nausea wash over you making you lose your balance and almost faceplant into the cloth seats. You felt yourself being gently, yet urgently taken out of the car and led to grass as you felt your esophagus shorten. Something burning made its way up your throat and spewed into the grass. You felt someone rubbing your back as you puked up your dinner.

When you were done, you reached up with a shaking hand to wipe your mouth. “You feelin better? Think you can get back into the car or do you need to sit down for a bit?”

“Car.”

After some difficulty, you were successfully in the middle row of the car laying down with your head on Philza’s lap. Soon enough, your shoes were taken off and a blanket was draped over you.

“(Y/n), what do you remember?”

You scrunched up your face as you squinted at Philza’s face. “I remember playing volleyball with Hales. She’s so pretty, she’s straight though. I remember the other team hitting the ball, me jumping, then nothin. Wha’ happened?”

You watched as Philza winced, “well, you got everything right so far. You got hit in the face with the ball so you fell and hit your head on the floor. You were passed out for a minute before you woke up. It was a pretty nasty fall, we’re going to the hospital now. How’re ya feelin?”

“Head hurts, ‘m seein two of everything, an I can’t think.”

“Do you know what a concussion is?” You nodded in his lap slightly, “you probably have one.”

After a while of talking, you were slowly starting to come to your senses and your speech was clearing up, but your head was still too stuffy to think about what you were saying before you said it. You didn’t have a filter.

“Do you wanna tell us about your week so far? Do you remember most of it?”

“Mhm, it was shit. On Monday I had a panic attack and Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were being bitches to me all day. They fucked up my back. On Tuesday, they got mad at me for ditching them and they had me do their homework, had another panic attack, and Haley told me that someone took pictures of our boobs ‘n stuff and they were gonna leak it to the school if Haley didn’t stop hanging out with me. Haley and I almost kissed, but she’s straight. Pulled an all nighter and Wednesday I accidentally came out to Tech and Wil and had another panic attack. Annie, Adrian, and Sammy took more pictures of me through my window, Annie outed me to the entire school and slapped me. Another panic attack, skipped the last two classes and felt like shit the entire practice. Today Adrian and Sammy told me to kill myself and I had another panic attack. ’S about it.”

As you were going through your week, the hand that was previously gently stroking your hair had frozen as the car was enveloped in a tense silence. Luckily, Tommy and Tubbo were passed out in the back seat so they didn’t hear how bad your week was. Everyone awake knew that you had a few bad days this week, but they didn’t know the full extent of it. You watched as Philza’s expression had turned downright murderous, but you didn’t really care. You were busy talking about your week.

For the rest of the car ride, Philza asked you simple questions like what your favorite color was, your favorite animal, basically your favorite everything. Eventually, the car pulled into the hospital parking lot and Philza helped you get out of the car. “Schlatt, can you take the boys home so they can get some rest? I’ll stay with her.”

“Yeah, I’m on it. Don’t cause too much trouble (y/n), we all know you can raise hell.” He watched you for a reaction, but when you didn’t react, he coughed. “Well, I’ll see ya later kid. Good luck.”

The car drove off leaving you and Philza at the front of the emergency room building. “It’s gonna be a long night (y/n).”

“I gotta finish Annie’s essay and Sammy’s presentation though.”

“No you don’t, I’ll email your teachers.”

You two checked in with the front desk before moving to sit on the uncomfortable chairs. It was going to be a long night. You were so tired.

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actualbird · 5 years ago

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nobody asked but here i analysed polygon’s “unraveled” and bon appetit test kitchen’s “gourmet makes” and i think they are similar and use three key story elements to their success | a 1.9k word long analysis by an unhinged creative writing fresh grad trying desperately to use their degree to connect two dots

If you asked me who my favorite internet celebrities are, I would not hesitate for a second to answer. Brian David Gilbert from Polygon and Claire Saffitz from Bon Appetit Test Kitchen. They’re awesome! They both host popular YouTube webshows about video games and cooking respectively, two things I am terrible at and don’t do very often. And yet I am enraptured by every episode of their shows. Why? How?

My thesis is this: Polygon’s “Unraveled” and Bon Appetit Test Kitchen’s “Gourmet Makes”, while wildly different shows on many levels, are extremely similar in how they use three key story elements very, very, well.

These three story elements are 1) Plot, 2) Character, and 3) FAWWIEOT (it’s an acronym, I’ll explain it later, I promise)

Let me start with the first and most basic story element these two shows wield amazingly: Plot.

Plot is, in simplest terms, what “happens” in a thing. This is what you’ll find on a movie’s Wikipedia page summary, the details of what went down, the events that took place, the things that occurred. There are many different types of plots because there are many different types of stories, but one of the most basic kinds of plots is very clearly illustrated by something called Freytag’s Pyramid.

Freytag’s Pyramid is a very simple plot that is moved forward by a non-negotiable in many, many stories: conflict. All is well, the line is straight, then a challenge arises and things start to escalate. At the climax, a decision or a group of decisions are made that leads to a de-escalation of the conflict, bringing things down until we are back at a flat line and the conflict has been resolved.

Every single episode of Gourmet Makes can be plotted onto Freytag’s Pyramid

Nearly every single episode of Unraveled can be plotted onto Freytag’s Pyramid too (with the exception of some, like a number of the categorization episodes, the Kojima name generator)

I know what you’re thinking. “So what if Gourmet Makes and Unraveled fit on some funky pyramid? What does that mean?” Well, dear reader, it reveals to us just one of three reasons why these shows are so enjoyable.

Freytag’s Pyramid is basic as shit, and yet it is one of the first plot structures taught to fictionists because people, up to this day, like it. Why? Because Freytag’s Pyramid fulfills two very important desires that we, as humans, love. 1) The desire for there to be a problem and 2) the desire for that problem to be resolved. It scratches our eternal itch to want to watch shit go down but doesn’t leave us up on a cliffhanger, it gives us our catharsis.

Gourmet Makes gives you the entertainment of watching Claire struggle with her task. Then Gourmet Makes shows you Claire slowly and surely rising above the challenge (notable in literally every episode of Gourmet Makes). Unraveled makes you watch BDG work himself up into a frenzy trying to do something stupid, but then Unraveled shows the payoff of...of watching BDG do something stupid, but this time towards some kind of resolution (very notable in the latest Unraveled “How to increase your stamina with terrible video game tactics”).

It is clear to me that Gourmet Makes and Unraveled both use plot in a way that gives viewers satisfaction. But what keeps them coming back for more?

Well that leads us to the second story element: Character.

People love Claire Saffitz and BDG.

Don’t believe me? Look through the tags of literally any gifset of either of them. Here, I did it for you. Here’s some tags for Claire:

And here’s some tags for BDG:

It’s pretty obvious to see that these two are well loved, but why? It’s not just because they’re both good looking, it’s because Claire Saffitz and BDG, with how they are presented in their shows, are good characters.

Claire Saffitz in Gourmet Makes isn’t scripted. She brings her own human frustration, determined hard work, and joyous glee to the show and it makes watching the show all the more enjoyable. BDG in Unraveled, however, is scripted, but he brings to the table his chaotic performance and ‘off the shits’ lecturer energy that brings the viewers in. Regardless of their differences, Gourmet Makes and Unraveled are similar when it comes to character because of one thing: they actually have characters.

What am I talking about? Well, for a period of time on the internet, people in the cooking media sphere and the video game media sphere settled for video content that was divorced from who was presenting the information. Videos like the ones from Tasty where everything was filmed top down and you only saw two hands perfectly putting ingredients into a bowl. Videos like the myriad of video game walkthroughs or video essays that are presented only by a disembodied voice who also seems allergic to actually having fun. This is content that hinges on the fact that people like seeing cooking or video games and that the presenter will mostly just be a background thing.

Bon Appetit Test Kitchen and Polygon both did not want to succumb to this style of presenting information. They both made the decision to bring their presenters into their video content, highlighting their respective presenters’ personalities, quirks, and styles. This is evident in all of Bon Appetit Test Kitchen and Polygon’s video content, not just Gourmet Makes and Unraveled. Do I watch Bon Appetit's show It's Alive because I want to actually make foccacia? No, it's because I love how Brad Leone mispronounces words and makes me laugh. Did I watch "Fixing Anthem’s boring mech’s with ballsy design" because I actually give a shit about video games? No it's because I love how Pat Gill jokes about fake testicles and also I think he's hot.

The fact that there are actually characters for us on screen to see, makes Gourmet Makes and Unraveled good shit. We’ve got a plot with clear conflict, but that means nothing if there are no personas for us to root for. Gourmet Makes and Unraveled gives us these personas. They give us Claire Saffitz whom we want so desperately to see smile and succeed. They give us Brian David Gilbert whom we want so desperately to see go a little bit crazy. They give us people to connect to, and that often bridges the gap to viewers who honestly don’t give a shit about cooking or video games. Viewers like me who just keep coming back to Gourmet Makes and Unraveled because of the fact that these are characters I care about, these are characters who I want to see smile after finally nailing the recipe or slowly take off their suit as they tell me shit about Zelda I don’t understand.

Gourmet Makes and Unraveled utilize plot in a way that makes these webshows satisfying, and they use character in a way that makes these webshows accessible and keeps people invested.

But they go further.

This brings us to our last story element, not exactly a common or rudimentary one, but an important one nonetheless: Fucking Around With What Is Expected Of Them.

(I know there’s probably a legitimate literary term for this, but sue me, quarantine has kept me stuck in my house since March, so I may have forgotten the exact words I learned in class. FAWWIEOT will have to suffice.)

The gist of FAWWIEOT is that stories have been around for fuckin ever, and because of that, there are clear patterns and tropes that stories follow. FAWWIEOT is the recognition of those patterns and tropes, using them, but finding a different outcome or flair to make themselves special, to make themselves stick out. Kinda like when you’ve got a fic on AO3 tagged with ‘friends to lovers’ but also tagged with like, I dunno, something completely random like ‘character is also a dragon’. Use the tropes, but do something different. Give the audience something they already know, then throw in something new to make them remember your content specifically.

Gourmet Makes and Unraveled FAWWIEOT (I’m using the acronym like a verb now, this is my post, I’m allowed to) very purposefully using an important technique: Flaws.

The standard trope of a cooking show is the chef easily talking to the camera as they perfectly put the ingredients together. All the food comes out perfect on the first try and everything is heavenly and wonderful. Classic cooking shows like Barefoot Contessa (hosted by Ina Garten) and Everyday Italian (hosted by Giada de Laurentiis) followed this pattern, and it made for good television.

But who fucking watches television these days? Everything is online now, and the internet is vicious. If you aren’t interesting, the internet will throw you out to the gutter. So how did Gourmet Makes set themselves apart?

By showing you that things aren’t perfect after all. Gourmet Makes shows you every trial that Claire tries, they show you her successes, but also her failures. They show you when she gets tired and hopeless, they show you when she bounces back and tries again. Gourmet Makes made a cooking show that was flawed, and people loved it.

And what about Unraveled? The design of Unraveled, from BDG’s suit and mug to his presenting style, key us in to the fact that we are watching some sort of lecture. Some kind of educational performance. Personally, this makes me think that Unraveled is FAWWIEOT-ing academia and basically any other media where an “expert” talks at you.

The standard pattern of experts talking to you are basically like TedTalks. You have somebody very well versed in the topic trying to explain to you something, showing you their hypothesis, their process, and their findings.

Unraveled FAWWIEOTs expertise by making BDG research the most crazy shit like OSHA regulations or the Geneva Convention, make the wildest hypotheses like ‘Monster Energy in the morning will be a good idea’ or ‘Sonic is blasphemous’, and then, ultimately, completely unravel himself. The expert in Unraveled isn’t an all knowing being who is always right, he is flawed (and loses his marbles, more often than not.) And we love it.

FAWWIEOT-ing is key because of how it gives us a pattern we know, and then does something new. Novelty is important on the internet, and Gourmet Makes and Unraveled have made a name for themselves on the unique way they Fucked Around With What Was Expected Of Them.

Gourmet Makes and Unraveled are two of my favorite webshows on the internet as of now, and there are many reasons why, many reasons I didn’t include in this post. What I wanted to do here is to highlight how these shows use story elements to be good content because at the core of these videos, even if they aren’t literary fiction, they are good stories. Good stories with a plot that satisfies us, with characters we can see and love, with new twists that keep us on the edge of our seats.

Good stories make for good content, and Bon Appetit Test Kitchen and Polygon have me as a subscriber for as long as they continue on this road.

Thanks for reading!

(Read my other Polygon-adjacent analysis essays at actualbird.tumblr.com/tagged/nobody-asked-but

If you have any suggestions or ideas for more Polygon-adjacent analysis essays I can write, send me an ask!)

#polygon #batk #bdg #unraveled #nobody asked but

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ruzek-halstead · 4 years ago

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🌺 challenge accepted 🌺 prologue 🌺

pairing: luke patterson x julie molina

luke and julie go to rival high schools, but come together at a party after their latest ‘friendly’ match. luke starts off on the wrong foot but redeems himself by the end of the night, by inadvertently becoming julie’s knight in shining armour.

“save it for your groupies, patterson.”

high school au

series masterlist || masterlist || ao3

warnings: swearing, non-con elements (nothing graphic), fluffery

“Go Nick! You’ve got this baby!”

Julie rolled her eyes as her best friend Carrie screamed her support for her boyfriend directly in her ear.

She was never overly fond of these school events, what with all the testosterone, but Carrie made sure to drag her along to this soccer game. It was a friendly game, mostly for practice, but there was nothing friendly about it. Cornwall High School has had a rivalry with Illyria High School for as long as she can remember; it’d always been talked about in the local news. And now that she was a senior, it still hadn’t changed.

She didn’t know many of the Illyria students. All she knew was that her best friend Nick (who was also the captain of their soccer team) had an intense rivalry with Illyria’s team captain, and so she had no choice but to support him and hate Illyria’s soccer team too.

It’s friendship; you don’t question it.

“Yes baby, GO!”

Julie rolled her eyes again, shoving Carrie away from her. “Shit Carrie,” she snickered, “stop screaming in my ear!”

“I’m sorry,” Carrie replied sheepishly, “but I have to make it loud so he thinks I’m paying attention and actually know what’s going on.”

The girls pass the time by chatting about their latest English essay due this weekend; Carrie had most of it done already, while Julie merely had her topic picked out. It was then that they heard the tell-tale sounds of a goal. Carrie straightened instantly, getting ready to jump to her feet and cheer on her team, but was instantly silenced by the sea of red cheering excitedly. Player number seven, dressed in a red jersey with the name Patterson had scored a goal against Cornwall, and they were most definitely not shy about it.

Julie watched as Illyria’s team players gathered together for a group tackle (they literally tackled each other to the ground; seriously, what’s the appeal?). Player number seven, who she could now identify as Patterson, was smiling proudly, appreciating all the attention from his teammates. She recognized him as the team captain that Nick loathed.

Nick may hate him (which by extension, means she does too), but she had to admit, he was unfairly attractive. Like so much so, that it pained her to actually have to hate him so much (he had the cutest smile). But from what she’s heard from Nick, Patterson was a bit of a douchebag; however, Nick was a teeny bit biased.

“Damn, I’ll be hearing about that later,” Carrie huffed, eyeing her boyfriend on the field. Nick was wearing a royal blue jersey with the number fourteen and even from their distance away, they could pick out his sagging shoulders.

The referee blew the whistle for half time shortly after Illyria’s first goal and within seconds, Carrie was already tugging on Julie’s sleeve. She knew there was no point in fighting the tiny blonde, but she also wanted to check in with Nick, since she didn’t get to see him before the game. So, Julie allowed herself to be dragged down the bleachers to where her team was hydrating and cooling themselves down.

“Hey babe!” Nick greeted Carrie with a cheery smile, much to the ladies’ confusion. “Jules, you came!”

Carrie shared a hesitant look with Julie. “You’re not upset about Illyria’s goal?”

Nick’s jaw clenched so quickly, Julie would have missed it if she blinked. “There’s still time to turn it around; it’s just a friendly game.”

Julie raised an eyebrow.

“Fine. Coach said I have to ‘be the bigger person’ and ’set an example’ or we’ll be banned from finals if there’s so much as one fight.”

Julie laughed, “there it is.”

She surveyed the crimson team a few feet down and quietly admired how unbelievably attractive they all were. Aren’t boys supposed to be awkward and dorky looking in high school? She took notice of the team captain sauntering in their direction with some lackeys. Julie instantly knew it was a recipe for disaster.

“What’s the matter, Miller?” Patterson sniggered with a malicious bite in his tone. “Need your groupies to console you before your unavoidable loss?”

Immediately, Nick threw his water bottle to the ground and charged in their direction. “Are you kidding me, Patterson?” He snapped, as Julie, Carrie and a few of his teammates held him back. They cannot afford to get into any more fights.

“Who are you calling a groupie?” Julie whirled around and barked at him. If Patterson was surprised at her response, he didn’t show it. “Now, shut the hell up before I go over there and shove my foot up your ass!”

She could hear howls from all around her, including from Patterson’s lackeys. The captain himself just smirked as he backed away, hanging off his taller blonde friend. Then he had the audacity to drop his right eyelid in a wink.

“Ugh!” Julie groaned, whirling back around in disgust. “What a douchebag.”

Nick threw an arm around Julie’s shoulders and pulled her in for a hug. “Thanks for that, Jules,” he murmured softly, “or else I definitely would’ve punched him and gotten suspended.”

“Anytime bro, you know I’ve got you,” Julie replied, bumping fists.

Carrie smiled fondly in their direction, “wow, how did I get so lucky?”

“Not sure,” Nick quipped, “because we definitely got the short end of the stick.”

He doesn’t move fast enough when Carrie aims a punch at his gut.

🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺

The game ended 2-0 with Illyria taking the win. It was a tense finale, but everyone left the field in one piece and ready to blow off steam in other ways. A Cornwall student was throwing a party in their house (re: mansion) and both teams were invited out of respect.

It was honestly a recipe for disaster but Julie was excited.

So, when she arrived, she headed straight for the kitchen to grab herself a soda. She already knew Carrie would be spending most of her time with Nick, but it was alright because Julie respected that and she honestly liked being a free spirit at parties. She could mingle with whoever she wanted and do whatever her little heart desired.

She noticed Illyria’s students celebrated their victory in a respectful manner, which was surprising to everyone. It seemed as if both team’s players were getting along, and that was highly unusual and unexpected.

But Julie was alright with that. She highly expected someone to bust out the karaoke machine, because there was nothing better than watching soccer players absolutely butcher everyone’s favourite songs.

She decided to venture throughout the house and look for familiar faces. She spotted Nick and Carrie dominating at the beer pong table (they were playing with soda of course; while they could all be relatively reckless, none were above the law). She watched as Carrie sank the winning cup and Nick wrapped her up in a spinning hug.

They’re absolutely adorable, Julie thinks as she takes another sip of her drink.

“Hey!” She heard a soft voice from her right and turned to see a tall blonde boy with a friendly smile; he was the one Patterson was hanging off of earlier when he winked at her. “Sorry to bother you, I’m Alex.”

Julie shoots him a nervous smile, curious as to why the hell he went out of his way to talk to her. “I’m Julie,” she replied, shaking his outstretched hand. “You’re on Illyria’s team, aren’t you?”

Alex nodded his head. “Yeah. My best friends and my boyfriend are on the team too,” he explained. “I just wanted to apologize about what happened at halftime.”

Julie blinked in surprise. “Oh,” she mumbled dumbly, “it’s alright. I’m pretty good at dealing with ignorant douchebags.” She doesn’t think she's said anything wrong until she sees Alex’s awkward smile. “Oh no, was your boyfriend the ignorant douchebag I told off?”

“No,” Alex laughed, “I’m dating the goalie, Willie.”

Julie breathed out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God.”

“That ignorant asshole is Luke,” he explains, grinning mischievously. “He’s my best friend, even though he definitely is a dumbass sometimes. But really, most of the time, he’s a total sweetheart.”

Julie’s nose scrunched up in disgust. “I wonder why I didn’t get that vibe at all?”

Alex laughed, stealing a glance behind Julie. “He really is,” he rushed, “and I’m so sorry but he’s coming over right now.”

In response, Julie whirled around to see Luke, roughhousing with a tall brunet dressed in flannel and another tall boy with his dark black hair tied up in a man bun,

“Hey,” the boy with the man bun greeted Alex, kissing him on the cheek; she assumed that was Willie. He quickly turned his attention to Julie and shot her a friendly smile (why were they all so nice? She’s supposed to hate them!).

The boy in the flannel started waving at her manically, even though he was only a little distance away. “Hi! I’m Reggie!”

She smiled back politely, and her eyes flickered over to Luke. He doesn’t seem to recognize her until his green eyes make eye contact and realization dawns on his features. “Oh hey! I know you! You’re Miller’s groupie!”

Julie watches as Alex’s facial features drop and he reaches across to slap Luke upside the head.

Julie rolled her eyes, because just one short conversation with Luke, and she remembered why she disliked (most) Illyria students. “And I’m leaving,” she responded in a clipped tone. “It was nice to meet you!” She directed towards Alex, and shot the remainder of the group a warm smile.

“Uh — yeah,” Alex replied, surprised she was singling him out. “We should hang out sometime! If you’re uh — up for that,” he trailed off, scratching his head. Julie smiled and moved along. “No? Okay.”

She continued to wander the premises, finding an isolated corner behind the pool. It was a small garden and she was admiring it, while trying not to trip and fall. She had a habit of being the clumsy one out of her friend group.

“Hey cutie,” she heard a deep rumble from behind her. “What’re you drinking?”

Julie whirled around (much too fast apparently) because the unknown figure grabbed her forearm to keep her upright. She didn’t recognize who he was, but she noticed the Illyria keychain hanging out of his jacket pocket.

“Thanks,” she mumbled breathily, moving uncomfortably away from the unknown man. The corner she was in was mostly deserted, but there were still a few people around. She kept her face calm and passive.

His eyes dart down to the red solo cup in her hands. “May I?”

She glanced down at the cup and thrusted it in his direction. If he wanted it, he could have it because she was definitely not taking it back after some stranger helped himself to it. “Yeah, take it. It’s all yours,” she replied, shooting him a small smile. “I should probably go find my friends…”

“Oh, don’t leave yet,” he insisted in a gravelly voice. “We should spend some time together.” Julie was starting to feel slightly uneasy. “Or we could get out of here, go somewhere quieter; have our own party.”

Now Julie was starting to get annoyed.

“No, thank you,” she pushed away from him to try and place some distance between them. She didn’t know who he was, and he was getting much too close for comfort. “I have to go.”

The stranger latched onto her wrist with an iron tight grip; Julie’s eyes widened. “You can’t leave yet,” he emphasized in a menacing tone. “You don’t just lead someone on like that and leave.”

“Excuse me?” Julie snapped angrily, attempting to rip her arm away from his grasp. “What the hell? I literally just met you.”

The unfamiliar stranger still didn’t let up. “You mean you didn’t come out here to a deserted corner so I would follow you?”

Julie’s eyebrows narrowed at the stupidity of his statement. “Of course, I didn’t! Now, let go of my arm, I’m leaving!” When he didn’t let go, she huffed in frustration. “Dude, I’m serious. Let me go right now!”

It felt like she was trapped in a game. She could see the stranger’s eyes and the unhinged glint in them, and she could feel his grip tightening ever so slightly. She was positive she could just throw her knee up and nail him in the groin to make a quick escape, but she found it ridiculous that it would have to get to that point.

Her mysterious stranger seemed to find this amusing, because he was smirking like all hell; Julie wanted to throw up.

She noticed he was starting to inch forward, and she could feel her brain starting to shut down. She could feel the panic bubbling in the pit of her stomach and all she could do was thrash around wildly in hopes that she could escape his grasp.

“Stop moving!” The stranger hissed, gritting his teeth in frustration.

Julie was five seconds away from kneeing him in the groin and making a run for it when she heard a familiar voice.

“Hey O’Donnell! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The stranger holding onto her arm instantly straightened and Julie felt herself stop moving as well. When she peered around O’Donnell, she spotted Luke Patterson. She let out a nervous breath at seeing a familiar face.

“You better let her go unless you want me to knock you on your ass.”

Julie shot O’Donnell a smirk as she finally rips her arm free of his grasp. She can see the marks he left on her skin and she wants to punch him in the throat.

“We were just having some fun,” O’Donnell replied, clearing his throat and meeting Luke’s eye line.

Julie scoffed; she can feel her confidence growing once again now that she feels more comfortable. “Have some fun, my ass!” She shouted in retaliation. “You are disgusting, get the hell away from me!”

She watched in satisfaction as he backed away, like a puppy with his tail between his legs.

“This isn’t over,” Luke threatened in a low voice; Julie had to strain her ears to hear it. “Get out of my sight.”

Julie straightened her clothes angrily; she was annoyed that happened and she was annoyed she wasn’t able to fend off his advances with the same badass energy she tried to exude in everything she did.

“Hey, are you alright?”

She nearly forgot about her saviour until he spoke again. He stood a few steps away from her; he seemed hesitant to approach her, maybe because she was just manhandled by some stranger and he didn’t want to startle her.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied softly. She’s perfectly aware she’s supposed to hate him, but she can’t think of a single reason why she should right now. “Thank you.”

“Please, don’t thank me for that,” he sighed in disgust, “I would do that for anyone. It just isn’t okay.”

There was a comfortable silence present between them, as they just stood there, listening to the distant thumping music. She couldn’t help but notice he looked really good; he was wearing a white band t-shirt with the sleeves cut off (that did wonders for his bright green eyes) and simple black jeans. She really couldn’t remember why she was supposed to hate him.

“You’re one of Miller’s friends, right?” He asked, looking to continue the conversation. He still kept his distance, and he was looking at her almost as if he was shy. Julie didn’t believe a good looking guy like that could be shy around anyone.

At the reminder of Nick and the rest of her friends, she also remembered how he referred to her earlier. “Yeah, I’m one of his groupies,” she teased with a smirk.

“Ah, I’m sorry about that,” he apologized, scratching the back of his head with a forced, painful smile. “I tend to say stupid things around pretty girls.”

The smirk Julie was wearing instantly dropped. She’s all good with fun and games when flirting, but as soon as it gets serious and someone shows an interest in her, she shuts down and becomes as socially awkward as they get.

She’s positive she’s going to say something stupid.

“Save it for your groupies, Patterson.”

There it is.

He doesn’t seem phased, mostly just amused. “I gave them the night off,” he chuckled. “My name’s Luke, by the way.”

“Hmm?”

“Luke Patterson.”

“Ah yes, you’re my best friend’s rival,” Julie recounted, feigning innocence. “Oh, he would absolutely die right now.”

Luke smirked, finally moving closer in her direction. “You really think he’d mind if I were talking to you?”

Julie seemed oblivious to his obvious interest in her. He was moving closer, maintaining eye contact and admiring all of her features. “Are you kidding? The only reason he didn’t beat your ass earlier is so they didn’t get banned from finals,” she explained, “but clearly I had no problem holding my own when it comes to pretentious, pretty boys.”

“Honestly, all I took away from that was that you think I’m pretty,” he admitted honestly. “And that you’re a badass.”

Julie’s smile dimmed slightly, remembering the earlier events that transpired.

“Hey,” Luke murmured softly, reaching a tentative hand onto her shoulder. “What happened before was not your fault. I have no doubt in my mind you would have kicked his ass to hell and back. I can’t imagine how you felt, but I’m really glad I was here.”

Julie glanced at his hand on her shoulder, but he didn’t move it. “I’m glad you were here, too.”

His hand gently trails down her arm, to where a large bruise is already forming on her wrist.

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

She sent him a shy smile. “I think you’re going to have to fix me a drink first if you want to find out.”

Luke’s smile widened, and Julie momentarily forgot to breathe because he had the most beautiful smile she had ever seen.

“Challenge accepted."

🌺

hope you all enjoyed!! a couple things to note:

the school names come from the movie she’s the man (best movie ever - go watch it now on prime)

we don’t have a last name for nick yet, so i made one up. was inspired by new girl’s nick miller (best character ever - go watch new girl on netflix now)

77 notes · View notes

dumblydork · 4 years ago

Text

Colourless

Two posts in one day? And the second way quite so long?? I've outdone myself :D

So everyone, here's some Hinny angst for you! I've never written angst so I know this is not one the best things I've written, but it would mean the world to me if you guys could tell me what I could have done better!

This was an idea I was playing around with sometime, because I wanted some Veritaserum action in a fic, and then Slytherin!Ginny was born :) This is the first time I've written a morally grey character, that too our Gryffindor Ginny. It's quite the contrast haha

Fair warning, there's deceit (think spiked drinks) which goes down in this fic. There's no other specific trigger warnings I can find, but if there's something you guys see, let me know and I'll edit it to show them.

All in all, I hope you're in mood for some angst. If there's anything you want to see written, please do not hesitate from messaging me, and I'll do my best to get it done!

Note- in this one shot, Ginny and Ron are not siblings. Essentially, Ginny is not a Weasley *cue the sacrilege*

-----

Ginny had had enough. The stares from across the room, like molten emeralds shining with loud, unspoken thoughts. The shy touches from when they passed in the hallways together, with their fingers brushing and nerves alighting into a bright golden flame. She had had enough. All this playing around, shying away was now getting to her. Her and Harry had been doing this for the past six months, which led to many almost kisses before he drew away with a slow smirk on his face, sharply contrasted to the apprehension evident in liquid jade eyes. Was she not being obvious enough? She always leant in, always held his stare and bit her lip in the most inviting manner she could think of. All in all, she was sure she was being the most obvious person on the face of the planet, then why did that apprehension not leave those magnificent eyes of his?

She was a 120% sure that Harry James Potter was arse over tit in love with her, and if that made her a narcissist, so be it then. She fully reciprocated these feelings by the way, and was currently sat in the empty common room, stewing over ideas of how to get the confession out.

Her potions textbook remained open in front of her from when she was doing her homework, the page open on the Draught of Living Death. Her incomplete essay lay limply to the side, having been forgotten in favour of more inviting scenarios involving a man with a lopsided grin and jade eyes. She was all alone in the room having stayed up to complete Potions essay due at lunch tomorrow. But given her current state, even a blind man could tell she was definitely NOT doing Potions.

As she let out a long sigh, a heavy wind blew through the open window, chilling Ginny back into reality. She rubbed her arms with her hands, cursing the dying fireplace. A simple Incendio could alight it again, but she was sat facing away from the fire and it would be too much work to get up and light the fireplace. Instead, she settled for tightly wrapping the moss green and silver scarf around her neck, and focusing back on the essay with a shake of her head.

“Draught of Living Death is often used,” She read slowly from where she had left the words incomplete, chewing the top of the quill. She looked into the textbook, but frowned when she realised the wind had blown the pages to another topic. With a sigh, she leant and grabbed the textbook from where it lay on the table, separated from Ginny by 13 inches of parchment. As she heaved the book onto the front, pushing her parchment away, her eyes fell on what Potion was headlined on the page.

“Veritaserum.” She mumbled, a finger on the edge of the page, paused in the motion of flipping it. She blinked once. Twice. And then her frown eased out as a slow grin made it’s way onto her face. She knew what to do.

----

Having gotten the idea was one thing, but actually brewing it was another. It took a complete 28 days to brew, and it was extremely difficult to get right. They hadn’t done this Potion yet since Ginny was still in sixth year, and Veritaserum was taught in theory to NEWT students only. But she had figured a way out as well- the seventh floor broom closet was the perfect place to brew it. It was unused and actually completely forgotten by students and Filch alike. Ginny had stumbled across the room a few days ago and had pushed it’s existence to the back of her mind. But here it was, as if made for this purpose and this purpose only.

So on the day of the new moon, she got started. Acquiring the ingredients was easy enough. Being a star Potions student, she had access to the Slug Club, where old Slughorn was so busy blowing his own trumpet that it was quite easy to weave him into a story about how Ginny needed the ingredients for ‘research’ and academic purposes only. It took a few tries, but right before she got started Ginny had procured all the ingredients. Whilst she was on the quest for ingredients, Ginny had gotten to reading the recipe over and over again, essentially imprinting it onto her neurons. By the time she was bringing the water to a boil inside the grey cauldron, she could recite the steps off by the heart. Yet her eyes remained focused on the book, as she mentally recited the steps. After water came in one vial of Ptolemy followed by stirring anti clockwise. She did it carefully and with so much precision that even Sluggy would be put to shame. By the time the first part of the recipe was finished, Ginny was very satisfied with the product as she poured the incomplete potion into a glass vial for maturation. It was the exact shade of grey as mentioned in the textbook, and Ginny was a happy woman as she went back to the Slytherin dormitory.

The second part of the recipe simply leaving the bottle to rest in a dark place, only bringing it out on the day of the full moon so that it could absorb the moonlight and reach the finished stage. By the time Ginny was done with this step, the potion looked how it was supposed to look as per the textbook. It was colourless and odourless. According to the book, this recipe made a Veritaserum which was potent for an hour and half, which was enough time to finally get the confession and FINALLY start dating him.

After the brewing, the next complex step was administering it to Harry, but that turned out to be the simplest mission of all- she slipped a few drops in as Harry was talking to Ron, and Ginny watched from the Slytherin table across as Harry happily sipped on the pumpkin juice. She had to corner him before anyone asked any questions to Harry and his sudden frankness made them suspicious. She waited for an opening- Harry was left alone for a few minutes in the hallway after breakfast, as Ron and ran up t the dorm to get his lost books, and Hermione went to the washroom in the meantime.

“Hey Harry, could I speak to you for just a second?” Ginny smiled, approaching him. Harry turned around and smiled back. “Of course you can.” He said, and Ginny walked towards a secluded corner, away from other students.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Harry asked.

“First, could you tell me if you possess a Deathly Hallow?”

Oh yes, she knew all about it. Whispers had been going around Slytherin that there was something passed down to Harry which was one of the famed Hallows- only ever found in fables. Harry’s eyes widened as he looked at Ginny. She stared back, wondering if her potion would work or not. This was not the best trial question, but asking about something obvious would be confounding. Pushing away the sudden heaviness in her stomach as she inhaled Harry’s troubled expression, she took an inaudible breath.

“The Invisibility Cloak is with me. It was my father’s.” He spoke with great difficulty, as his handsome features contorted into a frown. It was clear that he was trying to suppress this fact, but looks like the Veritaserum was quite effective. Ginny stepped closer, ignoring the increasing discomfort in her stomach. “And what do you think of me?” She whispered, her mouth close enough to Harry’s. He looked straight into her eyes and without any visible discomfort this time, spoke. “I fancy you. Quite a lot.” As he finished, he let out a breath as if finally released. Ginny frowned- his confession did not uplift her like she thought it would. The space between them stretched and stretched, and despite being only a few inches apart, the realisation in Harry’s eyes put them oceans away. He stepped away, the earlier electrified atmosphere now suddenly limp with tension. Anger, even, Ginny realised.

“You did not slip me Veritaserum, did you?” He said to Ginny, features cool but eyes exhibiting a crescendo of anger.

“I, I,” Ginny stammered, earlier confidence lost towards this cold Harry.

“You what, Ginny?” He said, now his voice slightly wavering.

She looked straight at him, having avoided his eyes all along. She stared into the green depths, pushed the sudden guilt gnawing at her, and spoke, willing her voice too sound as cold as his. Sh was proud when it came out the intended way, shining steel cold, reflecting her house colours. “Yes, yes I did. It was time to get a confession out of you so I did.”

Harry’s eyes widened, before the anger in them was lost, replaced by a hollow look. Somehow, Ginny felt better when he was angry, but this sort of resignation made her feel worse.

Hear yourself, silly girl! You're a Slytherin. She straightened up, willing herself to lose the discomfort weighing her down like rocks.

“And if you’d just asked me, I’d have told you. I would have told you everything I fancied about you. And if you even asked me about the Hallows, I’d have told you that too. I hate deceit and liars, Ginny, and this is nothing less than it. Nor are you any better than those other slimy Slytherins, which I was mistaken about. I hope you’re happy with yourself now.” Harry spoke, his voice a chilling octave. He stormed off and away from Ginny, who suddenly shuddered, falling to her knees in the little alcove.

It was then she let the tears slip, surprising herself with it as well. She inhaled deeply, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Her and Harry seemed irreparable now, no matter what Ginny did. She cried there in the alcove for a few minutes, because she was a heartbroken girl in the end. Except her heartbreak was her own doing- she was responsible for two scarred hearts now. As her tears dried up, Ginny stood back up, rubbed her face and walked away from the alcove, guilt and shame weighing her down, sinking deep in her.

---

And there it is, morally grey Slytherin!Ginny :) I think I like her duality of thinking of spiking drinks and then feeling absolutely like shit when it actually has dire consequences. I might explore more of our beloved characters as morally grey, so let me know if I should or stick to Gryffindor principles :D

Taglist: @amy-herondale-chase // @purplepygmypuffskein // @ginnypxtter // @alwaysmagica1 // @norakelly // @coffee-fandoms-and-chaos //

If you want to be added to my Hinny taglist, please interact with the pinned Taglist post on my account!

#hinny #harry and ginny #harry potter #mention of deathly hallows #invisibility cloak #taglist #gryffindor!harry #slytherin!ginny #interhouse #green and silver #hinny angst #maybe some mutual pining #bad decisions #deceit #veritaserum #potion brewing

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melissanovels · 4 years ago

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♡ Chapter 4 of TRANSIENT TIME TRAVELLER is out! ♡

○ Read on my Website ○ Read on Tumblr (below) ○ Read on Ao3 ○ Read on Royal Road ○

TTT is an LGBTQ+ historical fantasy novel about Aida, a time traveller hellbent on proving the innocence of a 1,200-year-old dead queen, and Lorian, an escaped princess-turned-officer who wants to drain the royal blood from their body, & the two coming together with the help of their mischievous future selves.

♡ Reblogs are appreciated! ♡

Read Chapter 4 Below:

She flipped through the third history text she’d finished that week, trying to spot any more clues she’d missed. It was lunch time, so she’d yet again found herself in the campus library instead of the dining hall or open piazzas with the other students. She’d tested the librarians and found that not many of them came around this corner of the ancient building. It let her eat her lunch of bread and butter in peace.

She pushed up her glasses as she leaned over her spine-broken books. It’d been two weeks since the semester started and she’d already finished all of the reading and had a head start on her essays and future projects, giving her ample time to read up about her new country’s history. One of the key aspects of wanting to get into Durante Academy was this library. More than 40,000 books were archived here. Everything from pre-classical recipes to first editions of history texts. She’d discovered a new biography on Eve’s life. Her favorite color? Burgundy. Aida couldn’t wait to buy a dress in that deep shade of royalty.

But she was getting nowhere today. Not only did this volume not have the answers she was searching for, there was a bug burrowing into her brain.

She hadn’t spoken to Lorian since the day they first met. It shouldn’t have mattered, being that he’d only done her a favor. She couldn’t remember a lot about what happened because she’d gotten completely baked, but she remembered that they’d bonded, right? That’s what people did, right? Or acquaintances at best. Her sisters often talked to one another about school, boys, girls. Their favorite actors and which ones they wanted to marry, what they wanted to be when they grew up. They’d never asked Aida what she wanted, never cared about her passions, but this boy had. That had to account for something, didn’t it?

So why hadn’t they talked since?

And why the fuck did it bother her so much?

Someone giggled. Down the aisle of books, three girls from one of Aida’s history classes were hiding. They had their hands cupped to their mouths as they whispered and pretended not to be looking at Aida. As a distant grandfather clock chimed for one, they ran off, their black dresses catching on their long legs.

Aida bit hard into her bread and chewed the tough crust so she couldn’t hear her thumping heart.

It didn’t bother her.

They didn’t bother her.

Her stomach growled in upset, so she organized her borrowed books and readied to leave. All she’d managed to find today was a new spelling of Queen Eve’s name—“Eta,” though scholars said this might’ve been a nickname used only by her loved ones—and, unfortunately, a new drawing of the Colosseum’s interior.

She didn’t know why she put so much time into these dead monarchs. Who were they but people who started and ended wars, who fucked and died vigorously and left palaces as their tombstones? The crown was now tolerable at best. No ruthless killings of Visatorre in the Colosseum, none that were publicized. She was able to go to school now, it wasn’t banned anymore. So why put all this time and energy into a system that didn’t give a damn about you in the first place?

“Aida?”

She started. She recognized that voice, and all of her nagging suspicions and fears suddenly disappeared with her upset stomach.

Lorian bounded up the library steps two at a time to meet her. He was waving, like she wouldn’t see an officer coming at her. Well, officer-in-training; she couldn’t let him get a big ego around her. “There you are!” he said, and took off his hat in a bow. “Good afternoon. Did you have lunch yet?”

She shuffled her books together and wiped any sort of emotion from her face. “How do you keep finding me? Are you spying on me?”

“Of course not. I’ve heard from the teachers that you enjoy spending your afternoon’s here, and I had a free afternoon to myself, so I decided to come find you.” He looked around without his eyes catching on anything. “A little medieval here, is it not? Different from the newly upgraded buildings.”

“A building built two hundred years ago with history dating back to the Classical era is medieval? No.”

He smiled that smile of his that irked her. “You have me there. So, have you learned anything more about Eve?”

She was surprised he remembered that. “Not much, only that—”She checked her notes. “People who loved her called her ‘Eta’, like how some Aldaían call their spouses ‘ama’ for ‘beloved’. That’s not well-known.”

“I didn’t know that, and I’ve been taught a lot about Roma’s history. You know, I didn’t know that she’d killed King Julius II’s wife. I was taught she’d killed him.”

“He’d killed himself a few days later. That’s what the books say, anyway. What books did you read from that? I’d like to research that topic. Most books say the opposite.” She started putting away her books. “Back when we were indulging in unfavorable substances, I pegged you as someone who didn’t know much about Eve.”

“I was…incapacitated at the time. Do forgive me if I said anything too obtrusive to you. I don’t remember much of what happened.” He looked around the now empty floor. “Please keep that night confidential. I don’t want it to harm either of our reputations.”

“What, two young people enjoying one another’s company with a natural reserve akin to morphine?”

“I mean two young people spending their time in…a woman’s bedroom. At night. It’s highly provocative, and I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“It was my dorm room, but sure. I’m sure that Roman standards suggest you spending your time elsewhere.”

“Please, don’t think me immodest, Miss Mirko. Aida,” he corrected when Aida gave him a look. “That had been my first day on the job. I’d…left my home quite suddenly not too long ago, and I was still getting my bearings when I was allowed entry as an officer for this prestigious Academy. I sought only to do the right thing, though I did enjoy our company that evening.”

“The evening spent with me talking at you for three hours straight about shit only I find interesting.”

“On the contrary. I found much of what you told me quite interesting. I was true on my word about never meeting a person as outspoken as you are.”

“Because the upbringing was that bad?”

He only nodded. “Very.”

“Then that’s something we have in common.” She stood on her tiptoes to put away a book on a high shelf. Lorian went to help but stopped once he realized she had it.

“Were you taught history in school?” Aida asked.

“In my teachings, yes. I didn’t really go to school, I was more so homeschooled. Why?”

“Because not many of us were lucky enough to be taught history. The good stuff, anyway. The shit that makes you think. A lot of what’s done in Bělico is taught orally. That’s how it was with me before I pushed for secondary schooling. Some of the schools don’t accept Visatorre into the school system. They’re still stuck in the past. I was the only one in my graduating class. It’s why I care so much.”

“That’s quite admirable. Not many people our age are adamant about getting the word out like you are. Most people just learn what’s needed to pass and carry on.”

“It’s the stuff that everyone should know about. What else we gonna learn about? The current royals? Gag me, I can’t stand them.”

Lorian offered to place one of the books on the high shelf. Aida tried it herself before giving in and lending it to him.

“Do you know if…the Bělico queen has done anything?” Lorian asked. “You’re from Bělico, right? Is she alright?”

“Queen Beatrice?” Aida asked. “Fuck no. I haven’t even seen the queen in person and I lived there all my life. She’s just like the queen here.”

“How so?”

Aida gave him a curious look before carrying on. He was a part of the royal guard, how did he not know about political affairs? “All they do is sit on the sidelines while their husbands do all the work, and it’s terrible work. Absolutely dreadful. If I were queen, I’d be like Queen Eve, who got shit done during her lifetime. Irrigation? Reconstructed. Trade routes from here to Aldaí? Reinvented. She’d helped to fund the first school for the blind, did you know that? She was interested in eyesight in a time which eyeglasses hadn’t been invented yet. Roman scholars would lead you to believe the good and loyal Romans did all that, but no. It was done by a queen whose city no longer exists. I’d honor her by doing everything she couldn’t do and more. I’d rework the entire system of Lyrica.”

“Will you now?” Lorian asked, leaning down to meet her eyes.

She tasted a sense of sarcasm on his tongue. She fought against it and stared into his eyes. It was hard, doing that with some people, but not so much with him. “Yeah, I will.”

“How—”

“I’d fix the school systems first. All children deserve to be taught, and it’d be the easiest change from a financial standpoint. Aldaí is progressive when it comes to this, so we can leave that to Prince Zaahir and that new princess he married. What was her name again? Beatrice and Lu…”

“I-I don’t recall,” Lorian said quickly, “but I agree with you. Aldaí is very progressive.”

“So then, if we can work out some type of stronger alliance with them, we then get to work on local modernization through the help of showing that the crown actually gives a fuck about us. We never see the royals, ever.”

“They do make public appearances from time to time,” he defended.

“Yeah, bullshit, I’ve never seen them. If anything, they only visit the biggest, strongest cities that’re pouring lyria into their pockets.”

Lorian shrugged in agreement. He looked like he had more to say on the matter but kept quiet so as not to interrupt her.

“So, I’d make them do more public showings. It might make the extremists angry, maybe make them more targets than they already are, but the monarchies have to show the people that they’re fighting for them. It’s exactly what Eve did in Siina. She was such a vocal, public figure, always visiting street markets and meeting with the people. And how do they do that?” She pointed at Lorian.

“I haven’t the faintest—”

“By listening to the people, yes, thank you. Open up more administrations and city councils so the people can be more in charge of their fates than the fucking officers and Constables frightening us into submission. No offense.”

“None taken.”

She looked down at one of her history texts. “We’re in a golden age of the world. No one is fighting one another. We’re not wasting hundreds of gold lyria on war strategies or extra officers. The last one was back in, what 1137? Twenty-two years ago? Back when we were babes? And that was just a fourteen-month fling where important Bělican crops weren’t being properly regulated across the sea because of unforeseen trade agreements. It left Roma without sugar for nearly a year. You see, I could change the world if I was given the chance, but I can’t do that because I have a fucking circle on my forehead!”

Her voice travelled across the library, skipping up the stairs and across the aisles of hidden knowledge. Lorian pressed his thin lips together, pretending he was an officer for the crown and did not enjoy breaking the rules.

Aida cleared her throat. She was getting ahead of herself again. She was going to push him away by being herself. She dialed it back. “The only chance I have is to become a historian. I might not be able to get a job right away, but when I graduate with a diploma from this Academy, I know someone out there will take me seriously.”

Lorian gave that considerable thought before nodding to himself. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I take you very seriously.”

“Course you do. The first time we met, I was fucking naked.”

“E-excuse me, I averted my gaze. I have values.”

“Like a true gentleman.”

Lorian opened his mouth to say more, then caught on whatever she’d said and smiled. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

She smiled back at him. She didn’t know what she had with this officer-in-training and why they clicked as well as they did—he was charismatic, helpful, charming, kind, easy-going. Everything she wasn’t. She hadn’t seen him in action, but he was probably good at his job, and had more friends than he knew what to do with. Total opposites in every regard, aside from the fact that they could share a blunt and be perfectly content with simply being near each other.

She frowned, not knowing why that made her so sad.

The heavy, wooden double doors leading to the main halls opened, and one of Aida’s advisors, Mister Omar, came out. He had a note in his wrinkled hand and his balding head was sweating from getting from his officer to the library before lunch period ended.

Lorian stepped back from Aida, self-conscious about how close they were to someone’s eyes. “Well, I should be off, then.” He bowed and put on his hat to cover his eyes. “Farewell, Miss Mirko, Mister Omar.”

“Farewell,” Mister Omar said, and watched him leave before whispering to Aida, “Miss Mirko, I just received a letter from the dean. He said he wishes to speak with you as soon as you’re available.”

“What does he wish to speak to me about?” Aida asked. “I was just getting back to my classes. You can’t fight me for choosing to spend my lunch here.”

“I don’t believe it’s about your elongated breaks in this great Rosalia Library,” he said, trying to be funny and failing. “Uh, no. Well, here. You can read it for yourself, but it came with a message saying to come to him before the end of the day.”

Aida took the letter.

In Regards to the Termination of Aida Mirko’s 6-Year Scholarship

She covered her mouth. Something inside of her split open and was releasing a foul rot in the pit of her stomach. Her hands went cold, her face hot. She strained her eyes to see if anything more had been written on it, but that was it. A simple declaration that had taken all of her hopes and dreams into bettering herself and the world and throwing it out like an unwanted child.

She ran. Fighting on her cane to make her go faster, she broke around the corner and ran out of the library. She wouldn’t read the rest of the letter. There wasn’t any time. She’d go to the dean and fight. She’d demand her right to be here and fight. They wouldn’t take this knowledge away from her, not now.

She pushed through the pain and trotted down the wide marble steps from the cloister into the open courtyard. Here, students in black and white uniforms continued their lunch in peace. Girls decorated flower crowns and boys tackled one another to the grass like toddlers. A couple flirted with one another near the well in the center of the yard. Aida ran past them all. This was all a mistake. It had to be.

The dean’s office was one of the older buildings covered in ivy, right beside the church that students seldom used. At the front gates, two statues of lions acted as guards for the door. Two actual officers stood watch over the building at all hours of the day. The leather holding the rapiers on their hips were worn from use.

Aida forced the wheeze back into her throat. “I have…a letter from the dean. Open the gates. Please,” she added, wondering if these grown men would care for novelties like “please” and “thank you.”

The two men looked at one another, then shrugged and went to open the gate.

She barreled in before they fully opened the door and knocked furiously on the knocker. Beside the dean’s home was his personal horses and carriages. Aida had locked-on to his carriage, as she’d thought about egging it multiple times, but beside his carriage were two other carriages she didn’t recognize. They had the King’s Lions engraved on them in gold: a Constable carriage.

“Fuck,” she cursed, then shook the thought out of her mind and knocked louder. “Dr. Falco!” she announced. “Dr. Falco, it’s Aida Mirko. I’m a freshman who just started this year. You called to speak to me. May I please come in?”

The door unlocked twice, and one of the dean’s maids welcomed her with a bow. “Hello, Miss. What was it that you wished to—?”

Aida let herself in.

“Excuse me, Miss!”

It was a magnificent house that smelled of syrup and old collections. Books on shelves she could never reach and busts of naked men and women from a tainted royal line. Walking around a terribly gaudy zebra pelt, Aida snaked into the main room and knocked on the door.

It opened upon her third knock.

Dr. Falco was sitting in a large chair behind a mahogany table. Around him were papers and texts, and behind him, a map of the world was centered between two windows. Bělico in the west, Aldaí in the east, and Roma centered amongst it all, even though the Earth was, in fact, a sphere, and nobody was truly in the center of anything.

Between Aida and the dean stood three men. Two wore the same uniforms and pants as Lorian, but their ages and medals told her they were actual officers, not ones training to please the king and queen.

The other man, one with curly brown hair and golden aiguillettes and sashes across his jacket, indicated who he was immediately.

The Constable looked down at Aida with hollow eyes. They were cold and dark, as if he was looking at a sheep ready to be slaughtered. He set down the document he was reading and turned to face her. One hand went to his waist belt, to his rapier handle which shone gold in the sunlight. “Welcome, Miss Mirko,” he said.

Aida gulped at him knowing her name. Constables were leaders of twenty, sometimes thirty men in Roma, and with the air of stuffy egoism on him, this man was probably high in rank.

She swallowed back her fear. “Why was my scholarship terminated? What have I done wrong?”

“That’s the thing. Have a seat, my dear.”

She didn’t.

The Constable waited. “My name is Carmello Carmine, right-hand Constable to Her Majesty the Queen.”

She didn’t blink.

The Constable narrowed his eyes, then focused on her cane. “I’ve been informed that your scholarship to this school was for six years based on the principles of your excellence in history and language as well as your race and upbringing.”

“And?” she said, itching to fight him for how he said that.

“And a law has just been put into place to make amendments to that initial proposition. Under the new, current law—”

“What law?” she interrupted. “I never heard anything about that in the paper.”

“The law,” he pressed, “indicating that it is unjust to allow a student any favorable outcomes when it comes to the acceptance rate to any Roman academy.”

Aida looked over the letter about her scholarship expulsion. “So what does that mean? I’m still enrolled into the school, aren’t I? I earned it. I left everything I had for—”

The Constable picked up his paper again. “The dean and I were going over your academia records and attendance rates.”

“I’ve been to every class!” she said. “I even started doing extra credit!”

“And,” he said, ignoring her, “unfortunately, we’ve concluded that your grades do not meet the qualifications to earn the scholarship for the next six years. Unless you can come up with the funds to attend this coming year, which we’ve estimated that someone who’s living on-campus would come up to 510 gold lyria, we unfortunately cannot enroll you into Durante Academy at this time.”

Aida tried doing the math in her head, hating herself with how long it was taking her. She thought it cost 450 gold lyria per semester, not 500 and change. Her mother didn’t even make that in a year with the farm. For six more years, at 500 gold lyria a semester…

She dropped her head. “I don’t have that kind of money.”

He lowered his paper. “Then I’m sorry to deliver the news—”

“But that’s not fair!” she exploded. She tried digging for any sort of advantage to keep her at his level. It was like fighting with her mother. Her eyes were watering.

“—that after this semester—”

“No!”

“You will no longer be able to attend Durante Academy as a student.”

Aida tried to read her letter again, searching for a loophole that already made her acceptance to this Academy shaky, but she couldn’t think. No matter how much she fought these people to be seen as equal, it’d never happen. It’s what Queen Eve had tried to fight for and failed. It’s what people like her had fought for for centuries and failed. All because of these kings and queens and these rules they bent to make their world more hateful.

She grit her teeth. In history, they said that the Visatorre queen had killed the king’s wife. Others said she’d killed the king. Aida had never believed either statement, but now, feeling the anger pulse in her ears, her eyes water in front of four men aiming to hurt her, she wouldn’t have blamed her for wiping people like this off the face of the fucking planet.

Holding back tears, she threw her walking cane at the Constable, scattering their papers and spooking the Constable backwards. “Fuck you! Fuck you and the crown you serve! All of you deserve to be buried in the Catacombs for the amount of shit you do for us!”

“Good God, Miss!” he said, staring down at her thrown cane. “Control yourself!”

The other officers unsheathed their rapiers, but the Constable held out his hand to make them put them away. “Miss, do you realize what you’ve just—”

She spat on the ground, cursed their mothers, and left, tears steaming from her bloodshot eyes.

“Miss!”

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. She’d worked for years to get here, she’d dedicated her life to this cause she believed in. She was to learn all this new information she was hoping to uncover about Eve and for this stupid bullshit country, but she hadn’t done shit.

Her mother was right about her.

She left the house through the back, through the gardens and near the horse-drawn carriages. She didn’t want those damn officers seeing her like this, and she didn’t want to be seen leaving the headmaster’s home in tears.

The chickens in the nearby coop clucked at her. The hens pecked at the ground while their rooster counterparts watched from the top of the coop.

The door to their coop was left open, letting them roam the contained land.

Aida cast a seething glare at the house behind her, then at the carriages left unattended.

Then she crawled into the chicken coop and started collecting her throwing eggs.

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stormquill · 6 years ago

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mahpiohanzia | chapter five [Remus Lupin/Reader]

You are an Animagus-in-training nearing the end of your education. He is Generic Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher Replacement #7. Your final year at Hogwarts couldn’t possibly be any stranger than the previous six...but seven is one of the most powerful numbers in magic, after all.

Author’s Notes: Co-written by Andrew. Follow the blog @mahpiohanzia.

Notes: march's update is late, but I'm hoping to still have april's out on time!

we're still on a canon timeline at the moment, starting of course with Harry's very rudely interrupted Quidditch match. i love the idea of you finishing up your animagus training by exploring with mcgonagall and i could probably write a whole series alone about your misadventures tbh. a lot of stuff is happening in the next chapter (December), there's a slight chance I might have to split it in two? but we'll see. what do you think our dear Professor Lupin should get for Christmas? :3c

please let us know what you think! your absolutely lovely, fantastic reviews are what keeps us going, and we cherish each and every one!!

The weather remained stormy throughout the first week of November.

After Halloween night’s break-in, the atmosphere at Hogwarts grew tense with rumors. Sirius Black had somehow managed to get into the castle and attack the Fat Lady—Gryffindor’s common room portrait—when she refused to grant him entry to the dormitories.

As a result of the incident, dementor activity increased tenfold.

Though the dementors weren’t supposed to cross into the grounds, they disrupted Saturday’s Quidditch match mid-game, making Gryffindor’s seeker pass out on his broom a hundred feet in the air. If Malfoy hadn’t still been milking his injury and gotten Slytherin’s match rescheduled, the victim that day could have just as easily been a Quidditch player from your house.

How could such an accident have been allowed to happen?

The incident made you even warier of the dementors’ occupation; you never felt safe from them, especially not when you could still catch them out the corner of your eye, drifting aimlessly like enchanted smears of ink across the distant landscape. Even from afar, they filled you with unease. You were finding it more and more difficult to concentrate.

On the night of your first Animagus transformation with Snape and McGonagall, returning to your human form took an hour of careful focus. Not being able to use your wand to revert back made the task exponentially more difficult; though you were warned of this beforehand, it didn’t make the inability to change at will any less terrifying. You needed practice, practice you couldn’t do on your own, as you had to wait for your Ministry of Magic registration to go through before transforming without supervision.

In the meantime, you trained with McGonagall as often as her schedule would allow.

The exhausting drills of transforming from one form to the other and back again took place in her office. Once you got the hang of it, she started transforming alongside you, leading you on excursions on lunch break or between classes. As a raven, you would follow her around the school grounds, through small spaces and crevices you would have never noticed otherwise, mapping out shortcuts around the castle. Sometimes, you even got the chance to terrorize Mrs. Norris. McGonagall would pretend not to notice.

McGonagall’s Animagus was that of a sleek grey tabby cat. Her movements were graceful, postured, and sure, which was a stark contrast to your novice, unwieldy handling of your own feathered mass. You were still getting used to maneuvering properly—sometimes, you would clip a pillar mid-flight, or misjudge your landing and fall off a given surface. On one occasion, you flew straight into a library window and shattered it into a thousand pieces; when you heard Filch’s curses of frustration approaching from a distance, you and McGonagall exchanged glances, and ran.

Above all, you found the hardest thing to reign under control was the powerful animal instinct nagging at you from inside your head. If the voice wasn’t trying to get you to fly higher or draw your attention to random shiny objects, it was alerting you to McGonagall’s presence.

Fake cat. Fake cat. Fake cat.

‘I know,’ you kept telling yourself. ‘Shut up, already, I know.’

The most memorable outing occurred the following week.

To familiarize you with navigating natural terrain outside the castle, McGonagall took you just outside of Hogwarts grounds, where you found a dementor floating directly in your path. It was the closest to one you had ever been—the massive black wraith hovered in place, wearing cloaked, tattered robes whose edges faded into billows of ever-moving smoke. Whenever a human passed it, you noticed, it would give a slight turn of its hooded head, like a dog checking a scent in the air.

You and McGonagall walked directly in front of it.

The dementor did not notice either of you.

You couldn’t get your mind off the revelation throughout the remainder of your classes. Strangely enough, being in your Animagus form was the one instance you had ever felt safe around a dementor. You did not ask McGonagall about it, lest she suspect you of wanting to sneak away from the grounds on a regular basis&mdash. Somehow, the discovery felt like forbidden knowledge you weren’t supposed to have.

Dementors could not tell the difference between Animagi and normal animals.

You were still thinking about it when Defence Against the Dark Arts ended. By the time you handed in your spell theory essay, you were the last person in the classroom.

“Just the Slytherin I wanted to see,” Lupin spoke up, taking the parchment from you. “You seem a bit distracted, today. Everything alright?”

You'd let idle thoughts cut into your attention in-class. That was a problem. “Sorry, Professor. Lots of studying this week. I feel like the moment I stop, everything I’ve learned will come pouring straight out of my ears.”

“The joys of seventh year. Might I recommend earmuffs?”

You smirked, and he smiled up at you warmly.

“Well, now I feel terrible asking this of you,” he started, “but would you be able to meet me after classes this evening? I was quite ill last weekend and could do with some help catching up.”

The request took you by surprise—his proposition to have you as an assistant had only come a little over a week ago. “You’ve already spoken to Professor Snape?”

“Oh, yes. Seemed thrilled with the idea, actually. Did he not tell you?”

“It...must’ve slipped his mind.” You knew full well that was a lie.

To say you were astounded was an understatement. Though you picked up on Lupin’s sarcasm—it was impossible to imagine Snape being ‘thrilled’ about anything—the fact remained that Snape had given Lupin his approval to take you on as his teaching assistant. No summoning you for a meeting in his office? No passive-aggressive remarks during Potions? No pushback at all? You couldn’t imagine what Lupin may have said or done or promised to get Snape to agree so readily. The thought alone was oddly terrifying.

“I know you’re busy,” Lupin winked. “Think you can pencil me in?”

The wink he shot you was like an arrow to the heart.

How could you say no?

Being a teacher’s assistant was dreadful work.

As November trudged on, you were visiting Professor Lupin’s office after school two to three times a week. Half of your time was spent helping him organize sixth-year curriculums, while the other half was spent grading assignments to his unreasonably thorough specifications. Terrible as it may have been, you couldn’t help but think that if Lupin's standards for helping his students were just a little lower, assisting him wouldn’t have proven to be so tedious; you hadn't realized there was so much work behind the skilled instruction he made seem so effortless.

Still, you had accepted the position for completely selfish reasons, and those reasons were proving worthwhile.

You enjoyed receiving the random owl at lunchtime asking if you could help him after classes. Grading through twenty essays on the same topic was just another form of rote repetition for your own studies. Marking sixth-year answers wrong, but also having to detail why they were wrong, did much to help cover the gaps in your knowledge from your academically void year with Lockhart. The trouble was worth seeing what pun would appear on Lupin’s tea mug that day, and the stolen glimpses of him at his desk, focused, nibbling at the end of his quill as he read across parchments.

The bits of colour you had during your week made the rest of it feel that much more desaturated.

Today, you were studying outside, a large table all to yourself due to the colder weather keeping everyone indoors. You were running through multitudes of steps and ingredients for Potions, your many notes spread across the wide stone tabletop. Before your N.E.W.T. classes, you had always thought Potions was an exact science with no room for variation or interpretation, but Snape had done well to prove you wrong. Skipping a single one of his classes would have proven disastrous to your studies, as the majority of the material he provided had absolutely no mention in the assigned textbook; it was frustrating, but following Snape’s generous liberties to the book’s instructions yielded flawless results, results he would be expecting you to replicate from memory.

You looked over the Shrinking Solution recipe for the thousandth time, seeing but not reading any of the words.

You’d rather be flying.

Being an Animagus was invigorating in ways nothing else was. Everywhere you looked, the world around you was recontextualized with new possibilities. What would it feel like to fly over there? Could you reach that point without getting tired? How long would it take to touch that tree in the distance and come back? Five minutes? Ten?

McGonagall had warned you of this, of how addicting your Animagus form could be at first. She told you it was important to regulate your thoughts, to have strict control over your random urges to transform and escape. You had the rest of your life to fly, after all. You just had to stay grounded for another couple of weeks.

Another couple of weeks...

Breathing in a lungful of crisp autumn air, you tried once again to focus on your Potions studies. You realized Snape’s in-class instructions for the Shrinking Solution was almost completely different from the textbook’s—quite literally, all they had in common were the damned ingredients.

Already overwhelmed, you glanced up from your notes.

You spotted Lupin across the field.

He was clearly in a hurry, carrying stacks of parchment and fast-walking down the corridor, when a first-year stopped him to ask something. A split-second of exasperation flashed across his face before melting away, all at once—then, he was talking, his explanation to the young student full of kind smiles and enthusiastic hand gestures. Even when he was stressed, he was happy to be helping.

You found his unbridled enthusiasm enchanting.

To your surprise, you sensed someone approaching you from behind; the sense itself was a weaker, more diluted version of the same instincts you had when you transformed.

“Afternoon, Professor Snape,” you greeted without looking.

You felt a swell of pride at how you managed to give him pause. All it took was years of study and the ability to turn into an animal to keep him from sneaking up on you.

“Afternoon,” he said, flatly. “How is the assistant’s position faring?”

“Very well, I think. Unless you’ve received news of the contrary.”

He acknowledged your attempt at humour with a sarcastic little hum. “You may be wondering why I approved the request.”

“I’ve learned not to question your judgement, sir.”

“Though wise of you, in this instance it would be useful for you to know my reasoning.”

You were both watching Lupin from across the field, now. At this point, Lupin had taken a seat on a nearby bench with the first-year, placing his papers aside completely to review something in their textbook.

“I trust you are familiar with the recent incident involving Sirius Black.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Suspicions and security alike have been heightened across the board,” Snape continued. “As Professor Lupin’s aide, I will need you to keep an eye on him. Report to me of anything...suspect you may find. Understand?”

You kept your reaction neutral, though your mind began racing at once.

So Snape approved Lupin’s request just so you could spy on him? This seemed to be coming out of nowhere. Yet, if Snape was resorting to asking you for help, it meant he had suspicions that weren’t being taken seriously by other members of the faculty. That included the other teachers. That included Dumbledore. Though you had no idea what led Snape to believe Lupin had anything to do with Sirius Black, Snape would not have brought his concerns to you lightly.

He also would not have trusted you, lightly.

You had several questions. Now was not the time to ask them.

“Understood, sir,” you said simply. “I’ll keep you informed.”

To your mild frustration, being mysteriously enlisted to keep secret tabs on Professor Lupin only served to make the man more attractive. Snape would not have levied his wariness without good reason. You always had the sense there was more to him than he let on—now you were sure of it.

But what on earth could he have been hiding?

Several days had passed since your conversation with Snape, and all you saw of Lupin thus far was one severely overworked teacher trying to manage way too many students at once. Were all the teaching positions at Hogwarts this strenuous? McGonagall’s iron temperament and Snape’s perpetual state of irked impatience suddenly made a lot more sense—it was a wonder any of your professors had free time, at all.

You were grading papers at the small side-table and extra chair Lupin had brought into his office for you. Your stack of assignments was running as thin as your tea was empty; it was getting late, and you were on your last paper. Quill in hand, you read the next answer on the exam before you.

You snickered, louder than you intended.

The sound of your laughter put a reactionary smile on Lupin’s face. “What is it?”

“‘Why are they called The Unforgivable Curses?’” you read aloud from the parchment. “‘The Unforgivable Curses are named as such because they are curses that are unforgivable.’”

“Well. It’s not wrong.”

“It’s not right, either,” you said, marking the paper. You flipped through the textbook beside you to cite the exact page where the proper answer could be found. “You’d think being thrown into Azkaban would be a more memorable punishment.”

“Things like the Unforgivable Curses and Azkaban are abstract concepts to those who have no knowledge or experience with them. They're little more than scary stories, to most.”

“I never thought of it that way,” you admitted. “I suppose most people have never seen an Unforgivable used, before. I know I haven’t.”

Lupin made a thoughtful noise. “Pray you never have to.”

You glanced at him. This was the second time you’ve heard him make a vague reference to some terrible experience, voice laden with an unexpected severity that carried an unspoken weight. He had some personal experience with the Unforgivable Curses, that much you could gather. The morbid curiosity of the revelation had you treading lightly.

You tried to keep your tone curious. “Don’t you think it’s something we should see?”

“How do you mean?” he asked, still scratching at his parchment.

“You’re the most practical Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher I’ve ever had, Professor. Wouldn't you agree that we should see every spell and its effects, so we would know how to recognize them in a duel?”

“You’re suggesting I ask for a volunteer?”

There was a gentle edge to his voice that wasn’t there before.

“Well, not a student,” you said. “Maybe a Doxy, or something.”

“No living creature deserves to suffer an Unforgivable Curse. Not even a Doxy.” He sounded final. “Ethical considerations aside, there’s a certain level of intent required to cast such spells—an amount of darkness within you needed to make it work. To speak plainly, I don’t believe myself capable.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How do we defend against them, then?”

“You run.”

The sudden ice in his tone made your blood run cold. You wanted to ask him of his experiences. You wanted to ask him what he’d seen. With a few well-placed questions, you had stolen a glance into a depth of him—the same depth he kept well-hidden, the same depth that drew Snape's suspicions.

Lupin suddenly looked rather tired, as if he knew he’d revealed too much, and you realized too late that you had given him the wrong impression. You had no interest in the Dark Arts, yet your house colours betrayed you; if your questions had come from anyone else, it was curiosity, but because they came from you, it was a warning sign.

“It’s getting rather late,” he said, rising from his desk. “I need to return some creatures to the lake before it gets dark. We can finish up next time.”

“Would you like me to come with?”

“No need. It’s a simple errand, I can manage on my own.”

Lupin had his back turned to you as he gathered several large glass jars from his bookshelf, a large cloth draped over each to shield their inhabitants from direct light. You had encroached on a sensitive topic, and now he was trying to put distance between the two of you to dispel the awkwardness.

You didn’t like how that felt.

“I’m sorry, Professor, it was ignorant of me to suggest—” The apology tasted too much like self-pity, so you stopped yourself and rethought your words. “Like you said, Unforgivable Curses are just scary stories for people who have no experience with them. But I’m sure they’re nightmares, for those who do. I should have kept that in mind before speaking of them so lightly.”

You noticed he stopped shuffling through his shelves.

Getting up from your desk to approach him, you made sure your hands were outstretched by the time he turned to face you.

“Let me help, Professor.”

He stared at you for a moment before handing you a jar.

The walk down to the Black Lake was cool and quiet; the temperature continued to dip as the sun lowered, the slight breeze now biting against your exposed face and hands. You carried two large glass jars apiece, with each jar containing a different-coloured Hinkypunk from third-year lessons from the previous weeks. Hinkypunks were somewhat dangerous pests that were easy enough to dispose of, and though you didn’t question his decision, you were surprised Lupin was going through all the effort of returning them where he found them. Somehow, you imagined he was also the kind of man who escorted wandering spiders from his home without harming them.

One at a time, you released the creatures with no issue. Though they were normally aggressive little tricksters, the Hinkypunks didn’t seem too keen on attacking you once they were set free, instead taking their miniature lanterns and disappearing with a puff of smoke and a squelching shriek.

On the way back to the castle, through the thin layer of fog floating above the Black Lake, you spotted a large cluster of what appeared to be slimy balloons floating in the water.

“What are those?” you asked.

Lupin peered over to where you were looking. “Plimpies, I reckon.”

You approached the waterside to get a closer look. You were familiar with Plimpy eyes as a potion ingredient, but you had never seen the whole animal before. “What happened to them?”

“Merpeople handiwork, from the looks of it. They consider them a bit of a pest, so they tie their legs in knots and let them float away. As you can see, Plimpies inflate when they get stressed—they gather along the shoreline, eventually, and are left to the mercy of nearby predators.”

You thought getting the opportunity to see the Plimpy close would make them look less like balloons, but it had the exact opposite effect. They looked like regular fish hit with Inflating Charms and frog legs cobbled to their undersides—only, their long, skinny legs were tied up in complicated nautical knots that shouldn’t have been possible with organic appendages. There were about twenty of them, give or take. The longer you stared, the creepier the scene became.

Rolling up your sleeves, you squatted by the shoreline and grabbed the one nearest to you. You pulled out your wand from your inner robe pocket. “Deimplicitus.”

The Plimpy’s tangled legs untied. You tossed it back into the lake. It bobbed around for a bit before deflating with a very rude noise and disappearing beneath the water.

You grabbed another Plimpy and started over again.

Lupin called at you from a distance, a small laugh in his voice. “What are you doing?”

“You go on ahead,” you called back, throwing the second freed Plimpy into the lake. “I’ll catch up.”

“It’s nearly dark. If you’re caught outside the castle without a teacher at this hour, you’ll get detention.”

“It’s alright, just go back without me. I won’t be long.”

Unable to leave you alone in good conscience, Lupin watched as you repeated your process, over and over again, with several more of the magical fish floating helplessly at the shoreline. You would grab a Plimpy, perform a Detangling Charm on it, and hoist it back into the water, where it blew a giant raspberry before sinking below the surface. You were ankle-deep in the lake. The bottom of your robes were getting soaked.

Burying his hands in his pockets, Lupin walked over to you. “You really should just let nature take its course, you know.”

“I doubt I’ll disrupt the magical ecosystem by doing it just this once.”

“But why bother?”

“Because I saw them. So I can’t just leave them.”

To your surprise, Lupin pulled up the knees of his trousers, and he knelt down to help.

The two of you continued the task in silence, the quiet broken only by the occasional, hilarious sound of a Plimpy deflating. The sun had already dipped below the horizon by the time you cleared out the cluster. The last fish in sight bobbed in the crook of a large log nearby. You leaned further into the shore, reaching out to get it.

The log moved.

In an instant, the large, wood-like creature rounded on you and snapped at your outstretched arm, sinking its teeth into your wrist. You shouted in surprise—the shock of it sent you reeling backwards, and you landed on your bottom as the creature waded off into the fog.

“Are you alright?” Lupin asked, already at your side.

“I’m fine,” you hissed, quickly getting back on your feet. “Just a Dugbog, I think.”

“Probably here for the Plimpies. We appear to have interrupted dinnertime.”

“How rude of us.”

“Not to worry, Dugbog bites aren’t venomous,” he said, already reaching for your arm. “They tend to get a little nasty if not looked after properly, though.”

Lupin held your wrist in his hands, rotating your forearm to examine the wound. To both of your surprises, there didn’t seem to be any blood or broken skin.

That’s when you noticed what saved you.

You cursed. “The bloody thing made off with my watch!”

“Quite quickly, too. Perhaps it was on a time crunch.”

The snort of laughter you gave was most unbecoming.

From the corner of your eye, you saw a familiar giant of a man approach the two of you from afar.

You turned to him and smiled. “Evening, Professor Hagrid.”

He called you by name. “And Professor Lupin! Blimey, it’s after sundown. What are yeh doin’ out ‘ere so late?”

“My assistant and I were returning some creatures to their natural habitat,” Lupin explained. “What brings you to the lake tonight, Hagrid?”

Hagrid raised the net he was carrying. “Harvestin’ Plimpies.”

You paled, but Hagrid misinterpreted your look of shock completely.

“Now, don’t you look at me like that,” he said defensively. “They make a fine soup.”

Lupin leaned towards you so only you could hear. “Told you we should’ve let nature take its course.”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, which was met with Lupin trying—and failing—to hold back the cheekiest grin you’d ever seen on the man. Unconsciously, perhaps, he hadn’t yet let go of your hand, and in a rush of fleeting courage, you let yourself curl your fingers around his own for a moment.

Just a moment.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #lupin x reader #harry potter imagine #mahpiohanzia

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hcneymilkks · 5 years ago

Text

STRAY KIDS Seungmin ‘Likes’

In the 21st century, Social media has taken up our time. The term likes and comments always follow us around. How many likes do we get? Are the comments always positive? To Seungmin, it seems stupid, but as time goes on, he finally realizes how much it can change a person.

Pairing: Seungmin x Hyunjin

Genre: Angst (i think)

Warnings: none

NOTE: may or may not be a little rundown of what a whole book may be about (hehe)

Click.

Seungmin smiled. The light breeze ruffling his auburn hair. It was a cloudy day, rain starting to fall. The post-rain smell starting once again as the droplets hit the long green grass. Seungmin packed up his camera and school books, deciding the day were to end.

Few stops on the train, few bus rides and a little bit of walking, he was home. Home to an apartment he and Hyunjin share. It was fairly spacious. Two bedrooms each with a large closet, the bathroom, living room and kitchen is shared. Rent much less than what other college students pay.

"Hey I'm here." He took off his shoes and placed his camera and keys on the side table.

Hyunjin stared at the auburn boy sprawled out on the couch and giggled. "Rough day?"

Seungmin nodded his head and groaned. "I have an essay due next week, two presentations to do in two weeks and an art project due by the beginning of next month."

"Poor baby. Anyways I have food cooked, let's eat first and then tell me all of your problems."

Both the boys sat facing each other, nothing but chewing and sips heard. The sun had started to set behind Hyunjin, casting an orange glow on his honey coloured hair. Seungmin did nothing else but stare. Seungmin knew he was attracted to Hyunjin. Heck, even most people in his Collage are attracted to him. But Seungmin knew Hyunjin never liked the attention. He was a soft-spoken boy who liked the library and was an introvert. Never really into parties, loved politics, and is a member of the student council. Seungmin smiled. He knew he could never let Hyunjin go.

"Uh is there something on my face?" Hyunjin tilted his head.

Seungmin shook his head, quickly taking a sip of his water. Too much daydreaming.

"Thank you for the food, it's amazing as always. You know, instead of being a Political Science major you can be a cook. They get paid great, you get to try and create new recipes, and you are always in the back, away from people." Seungmin explained in a sing-song voice, the pitch going higher and louder as he emphasized on being away from people.

Hyunjin chuckled and brought his plate to the sink with Seungmin following. "Min, that actually doesn't sound like a bad idea, but you know how much I love politics, science and history. Taking this major is actually making me step out of my comfort zone which I want to happen."

Seungmin stayed silent, saying a simple 'oh' and putting his plate in the sink as well.

"But if all else fails, I will become a chef and give you free food for the rest of your life."

_____________

It was now eight in the evening. Both of the boys had their daily chores done and were now in the living room. One looking for something to watch on Netflix while the other cursing at his computer.

"Goddamn why won't you work?"

Hyunjin sat down beside Seungmin who looked like he was about to explode. "And I thought the younger generation was supposed to know how to work the newest technology."

"Bitch! You're only a few months older than me shut up."

Hyunjin slid the computer closer to him. "What the heck are you doing anyway?"

"I'm trying to upload the photos I took today. I need to post them!"

Hyunjin shook his head. "Give it to me."

The younger obeyed and gave the camera to Hyunjin.

"Okay, so you plug the cord into this USB port here and then plug the other side into your computer. Press select and upload the different pictures that you want."

"Okay...so how do I get them on my phone?"

Hyunjin sighed. For someone who was smart and creative, he was very dumb.

Moments later and the photos were posted, Sungmin smiling.

"Wow you know a lot about computers, you should change your major to computer science or software engineering."

"Nah bro that's too hard. Besides, I don't really like math. Anyways, where did you even post the photos?"

"On Instagram, duh."

"What's an Instagram?"

Seungmin almost dropped his phone in shock. Ten years of knowing this guy and he doesn't know what Instagram is? Oh, how did he fall in love with such an idiot?

"It's a social media app where you can share photos, like and follow content, and make online friends."

"Okay....What's the big hype about it. Why are you so into it?"

"I'm not into it." Seungmin looked the other way and blushed.

"Yeah says the baby who almost cried after he couldn't figure out how to make his computer work." Hyunjin playfully rolled his eyes.

"Hey! You take that back!"

_______________

Ding!

Hyunjin was confused, just who in the world would message Seungmin at this time? Seungmin was a likeable guy but was somewhat picky with his friends.

Could it perhaps be a girl?

Hyunjin shook his head. There was no way that Seungmin became straight all of a sudden. Not even his horrible flirting experience with Jeongin could change his mindset. At least, that's what he thinks.

"Sorry. I should probably put my phone on silent." Seungmin reached out for his phone when Hyunjin put his hand on top of Seungmin's and smiled.

"Don't worry about it. This account must be pretty popular."

Seungmin blushed and smiled. Oh, how easy it was for him to sway with any words that came out of Hyunjin's mouth.

"You should make one. You know, for the experience."

Seungmin stood up and bid Hyunjin a goodnight afterwards, leaving Hyunjin alone with his thoughts.

________________

"Chan how do you make an instagram?"

The Student Council meeting didn't start until half an hour, but Hyunjin decided to be extra early for the sake of some advice.

"Uh? You just make one? What's with all the questions? I thought you vowed not to go back on social media?"

Hyunjin sighed. "I know but I want to run for the next student council election as president and in this day and age people use social media more than ever."

"okay okay there buddy no need to sound like you were born with no internet. I'll help you." Chan was the current president but was graduating this year. To keep the student council running each year there would be elections, Chan had hoped the day would come that Hyunjin would run.

"Chan I still don't understand how to post."

"Ohmygod Hyunjin just do it like this." He took the phone from the younger boy's grasp, much to his complaints. Chan picked the photo they took of Hyunjin outside of the student council room and clearly showed step by step how to add filters (as if he needed it), how to hashtag, and what to caption.

"And I thought the younger generation knew how to use Instagram." A backpack was thrown and someone fell to the floor, groaning.

____________________

Seungmin started to cough violently.

"Hey man are you alright?" The freckled boy, Felix, patted his friend's back while someone was trying not to laugh.

"I-im fine." He said weakly, few coughs here and there. "Just went down the wrong pipe."

"Drink some more water then, it will help."

Both the blond and the aburn haired boys looked at the squirrel-looking boy.

"Are you stupid? Seungmin just almost died from a liquid."

"I'm fine I s-"

"Yeah but that liquid wasn't water Felix. Now his throat is all dry and needs to hydrate it with water."

"Jisung that's stupid, everything is made out of water. Where did you even get that information?"

Seungmin tried to speak louder but the two bickering boys wouldn't stop.

"I'll have you know that Tumblr is a reliable source for information."

"See this is why your IQ is a four."

More bickering.

Heated tension.

All because Jisung said something stupid.

"Guys enough! I'm alive and that's what matters." Seungmin took a sip of water to soothe his raw throat, hearing a ding coming from his phone.

While Jisung and Felix went back to the topic of Fortnite, Seungmin had opened his Instagram to see a new follower.

"No way. He actually did it."

__________________

Two weeks have passed and Hyunjin's following has increased. Everyone wants to know about the boy who came out of his shell to become the upcoming year's student council president.

Hyunjin felt happy, loved, accepted. He no longer was the shy boy in class who sat alone in front who was too scared to ask questions or voice his opinions. He could thank Instagram for the change.

But someone felt that Hyunjin was changing too much, for the worse.

Seungmin believed that too much social media for someone can change their whole demeanour. He didn't realize it would change his best friend.

"Hey Seungmin, do you think M5 or R3 would make me look better?"

It was one of those rare days where Hyunjin stayed back at the apartment. Many parties on campus and Hyunjin wanted to go to all of them. Accompanied by Changbin and Minho of course.

Seungmin had chosen to always stay at home, finishing up an essay that was due in a month.

"Um....what are those?"

Hyunjin looked at Seungmin, as if he was an alien from area 51. "Are you kidding me Seungmin? It's the Instagram filters from the new update. Gotta look good for the gram."

Seungmin rolled his eyes and mumbled a whatever under his breath. Hyunjin sighed and picked M5, posting the photo not a second longer.

"By the way, the student council wants to throw a party in our apartment, are you okay with that?"

Seungmin closed his laptop as he couldn't concentrate any longer.

"Why not throw the party at Chan's house? It's way bigger than here. Plus I hate parties so why should it be where I live?"

"Well jeez Seungmin sorry to hit a nerve. Sucks that my roommate won't even attend a party with me for once."

Seungmin felt his heart break. "A roommate? I'm not even your friend?"

"You stopped being my friend after I realized you're a loner and so boring. Like really Seungmin? Taking pictures of the sky is so creative there are tears in my eyes."

Seungmin stood up to get a glass of water. "No one asked you for your opinion Hyunjin. Let me remind you that I suggested to make an Instagram account for fun, not to change your whole fucking personality."

Hyunjin went into the kitchen and smirked at Seungmin. "Oh I see now, you're jealous. Jealous that I have more followers than you, jealous I'm more handsome than you, jealous-"

"Shut up! You're not Hyunjin. Hell I don't even know who you are. Fine! Have that stupid party here, I won't be attending and don't fucking ask for me. You have gone low Hyunjin. I don't even know who I fell in love with anymore."

Seungmin left the room without another word, slamming the door to his room.

Hyunjin stopped for a moment. "He loves me?"

________________

"Thanks for letting me stay here Felix, I'm sorry about that."

"No worries mate. You're always welcome here."

A ding goes off on Felix's phone and he gasps.

"Chan's throwing a party, wanna come?"

Seungmin groaned. "Come on Felix you know I don't do any of that. Plus the NOD Magazine at the University posts about the parties and posts photos. I can just read it and feel like I'm there."

Felix sighed. "Well if you ever change your mind, you know the address."

Felix soon left for what he called was the party of a lifetime with Jisung, Seungmin curled up in a ball watching Netflix.

A ding soon came from his phone.

Felix: if you change your mind mate, here's the address [Address]

Seungmin groaned, one party couldn't hurt right?

Oh but it did.

As Seungmin opened the door to his own apartment, he was welcomed with the shouts of "KISS, KISS KISS" and two people kissing.

Who you may ask?

Political Science major Hwang Hyunjin.

and,

Journalist Yang Jeongin.

___________

NOD MAGAZINE; BREAKING NEWS

Hwang Hyunjin has won the title of Student Council President for the 2019-2020 year!

But that's not all;

HWANG HYUNJIN IS TAKEN LADIES, TAKEN BY A MAN NAMED YANG JEONGIN.

Sources closest to them have said that they have feelings for each other and have taken it to the next level.

Congrats to the new couple we wish them well!

Seungmin sniffled.

"Stupid Hyunjin. Stupid Seungmin. If only I said nothing about opening an Instagram account he wouldn't have changed."

he could have been Seungmin's from the beginning.

now Seungmin is welcomed to the apartment with an empty feeling.

his heart more fragile than ever.

MASTERLIST

#stray kids #seungmin #hyunjin #jeongin #i.n #han #jisung #felix #lee know #minho #chan #changbin #woojin #university au #student president

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mudakun · 3 years ago

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The Problems of Creativeness

...also happens to be the title of a short, biting sci-fi tale by Thomas M. Disch; I use it as a half-ironic tag over on my blog but have been saving it as title. (in case you haven’t noticed or cared, I like to use old sci-fi story and movie titles as blog post titles as a sort of mood-setting thang over at heartsoffuriousfancies dawt com) I need to write -something- over there, if only because my (gasp) 10yr anniversary for the blog is approaching in September. I haven’t abandoned it, or even announced a formal hiatus. I do drop by and reply to occasional comments and sometimes, I run search+replace to fix terminology problems that might inadvertently position my ramblings as allied with odious netouyo.

So why have I not posted in 3/4 of a year? I lost my theory-moe-mojo. I think I blew it all on last year’s (or was it 2 years ago’s) big 4-parter on conventions of depicting intimacy in Japanese manga and anime. I am still proud of it but it became obvious that I wasn’t getting my point, my thesis or whatever, across.

A similar thing happened a few years earlier when I examined 3 somewhat-lesbian-ish yuri works, ending in a detailed examination of the Bakemonogatari effort; Hanamonogatari (which, btw I lurv to death and Suruga Kanbaru is in many ways a far better lead than buddy boy, and I like buddy boy) Here for the record: Too Het series: The “use value” extracted by straight-gaze works using queer characters is that these can do things that -by convention- straight charas are seldom shown doing. Lives of others: Tasteful, light queer desire is consumed for its iyashi feels. Hanamonogatari both lampshades and deconstructs the practice; it is a masterfully plotted tale. I then ran out of any “big” theory-ish thangs I wanted to grind on about. On a whim, I created an “imaginary friend”/ fictional interlocutor/ foil/ straight lawn mower/ OC? So I could do crummy dialogue-ish style grinds on smaller topics. It was either this, stop blogging or start doing new season anime reviews. Ack-chu-ally... The anime reviews ended up as meandering Twitter threads. Post screencaps, try not to be toooo slaggy, except for creeper shit that deserved a kick or two.

Even so, I generally just do a “nope, not for me, you may enjoy it, whatever” Why waste powder?

For instance, there are TWO summer 2021 high fantasy young lad hero isekai anime on right now; One is more “hard realism” and the other is already building a monster-girl harem. The latter is clearly more bullshit cliché than the former but I am enjoying it far more than the first -- which routinely slips in gratuitous child abuse shit to bolster its “realism” cred. ISEKAI, remember? FANTASY. Pleasant diverting escapism. If I want human scum acting scummy, I watch a video of CPAC.

Strangely enough, the monster girls in question are not shy about killing baddies, which is refreshing, even if they do pull their punches -most- of the time out of a sense of decorum towards their “young master”. The “realism” one could have used a few more dead baddies, right from ep1. Bhut Nooooo because our hero is... -something-. Bleh.

Even the Light Novel version of the Slime-taming Shed Builder Isekai from last year had him quietly, offstage, KILLING entre bands of bandits that threatened his forest cave home. Good on him. Do I have to endlessly re-watch Castlevania to see some obvious problem disposal? Which is not exactly a theory-moe-ish subject for one of my usual essay/posts. Which leads me to IRL. Obviously, a year -plus- of pandemic has not improved my outlook and I am sorely missing my special someone in Japan (she can’t visit me and I can’t visit her) and I really, really miss her. I DO feel better lately in that both of us are now fully vaxxed, and while we both have our share of “gettin’ older” complaints, we are healthy. So... writers block apologia post? There are a few other thangs that annoy/ get in the way but all in all, I like the way the last decade has gone in manga and anime. I have been watching casually for EONS and decided to fan out on it a decade ago and I will proudly state that I now will watch anime before I bother watching almost all live-action “movies” or shows. The overwhelming majority of them now provoke an almost-reflexive URUSAI/ STFU reaction.

The J-Drama “Camping Alone” was tolerable. Maybe it is the subtitles? Whatever. If worst comes to worst, I have 2 extra homebrew discoveries/ recipes/ tricks that I can post. One involves a novel use for grocery store Ginger Ale, the other a method for creating VERY hard cider. I can’t think of anything else.

#TheProblemsofCreativeness

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nannynest · 4 years ago

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These tips will help you prepare your children for pre-school tests.

Are you worried that your child is overwhelmed by the preparation for a test?

Let's say your child loves school. They love their teachers and classmates. They do their homework every night. They are trying their best, but that enthusiasm and effort isn't translating into the academic gains and grades they desire. This may sound familiar? The key to teaching your child how to learn is to develop effective study skills which are taught at our play group in Mira Road.

It's not about one thing that makes you a success in the classroom. It's about the right combination of attitude, habits, effort, and willpower. This recipe relies on strong study skills, which are a learned behavior. Katie O'Brien, Hunter Maats, and co-authors of The Straight-A Conspiracy explain that Straight-A students aren't born. They're created. Every student in India can get the grades they want without stress. It is much easier to manage your emotions and put aside distractions and create a simple study plan that makes learning more enjoyable and faster than parents and students believe.

As a parent, what can you do to help your child learn the skills necessary for academic success? And how can you see the benefits beyond the classroom? These are some tips to help you get started.

Designate a study area for your students.

Is your child able to study at their desk? You should ask yourself whether it is well-lit and free from distractions. You should keep a range of study materials in your area such as colorful post-its and highlighters, pencils and pens, and scratch paper. Your child should be encouraged to own the space by allowing them to decorate it. Also, teach your child how to organize their desk every night so that they are ready for the next study session.

A planner is a must.

Effective study skills require time management. Make sure your student is familiar with how to keep track of homework. Make sure they write down the due dates for projects and homework, especially if it is given to them by their teacher in advance. It is important to keep up with these assignments. Preparing for important tests requires that your child breaks down the content and creates a review schedule. You can break down large projects in a similar way. Together, you can set milestones and work with your child on a schedule to complete these parts. This will help to reduce procrastination and cramming, as well as build confidence by helping your child manage their workload. Our Nursery school in Mira Road focus on developing such strategies.

Make sure to take effective notes.

Cornell Notes: Have you ever heard of them? Cornell Notes is a classic note-taking method that can be used to help your child retain the information they have learned. Studies show that handwriting notes is more effective at retaining information than using a computer or taking notes. Active reading strategies, such as taking notes and highlighting key themes or passages, can be very beneficial for retention.

For tests, practice.

It's not the best way to make sure your child is ready for the test. Encourage them to use flash cards or practice tests, and encourage them to be more interactive. It is a good strategy to ensure your child understands the material by asking them review questions and having them give short essays-style explanations.

Avoid cramming.

It is better to study a small amount of a subject each day than it is to spend more time on a single topic. Your student can be helped to create a study plan that allows them to practice different subjects over time. Even as little as 10 minutes per day can help. Encourage your student to take smart breaks between studying. A 15-minute break every hour can help students stay focused and productive.

Encourage your child to ask for help.

Maybe your student has difficulty understanding a lesson or the homework assignment. Asking for help when this happens (and it happens to all of us at one time or another) is crucial. Learn how to talk to teachers early and ask for help. Don't be afraid of raising concerns with your teacher. Another important lesson is to teach your child how you can help them build good working relationships with their classmates and ask for their support.

Avoid distraction.

Your student should learn how to turn off their devices and put away their computer. Multitasking can also hinder learning. Encourage your child to concentrate on one subject for a sustained time before moving onto the next. To maximize their ability to focus and make the most of the time they spend studying, it is important that your child develop healthy eating and sleeping habits.

Parents have many options to help their child learn the study skills that will make them a success in school. These great resources will give you more ideas:

These strategies can help you make it easier.

Your child can help you map out a study schedule for test taking.

A study schedule can be created, ranging from 15 to 30 minutes per night, depending on how old the child is, how much material they need to cover and how much homework they have to do.

This will allow you to manage your time better.

Decide what types of questions you will face on the test.

There are three options: essay, multiple-choice or short-answer.

Ask your child to tell you what he thinks the test will look like.

Take a look at the notes and sections of the textbook that address these topics.

Ask your child to identify the pages that were highlighted by the teacher and if there are maps, charts or additional reading he should know. We teach such things at nursery school in Mira Road.

Study questions from the teacher should be carefully reviewed and your child can help you write down key information and answers so that he can return to them later.

Keep in mind the basics of test-taking. For your child to remember and organize information, one tip is to use the five W's: who?, what? when? where and why. Teach test-taking skills. Your child should read the test through and answer all questions correctly. Then, she can return to questions she is unsure about later. This is not just to reinforce knowledge and understanding but also to build confidence in your child and lay the foundation for a lifetime full of study skills.

Continue with testing. Recommend your child for being cooperative and taking the time to study for the exam. If you aren't satisfied with the results, speak to the teacher.

Is your child worried about Friday's big test?

Is he unable to focus during studying?

It's not hard to see how stress can be caused by test-time.

These steps will make test preparation easier and help students feel confident for the next exam.The first two types of essays require students to be able to recall a lot of details and facts. For essay tests, it is important to think about the bigger picture.Discuss class notes, textbook chapters, questions, and other materials with your child and find out what you think is the most important information. Your child can help you write down key information and answers so that she can look them up later.

#play school in mira road #Playgroup school Mira Road

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mightywriting · 7 years ago

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Applying to College? Get Smart(er)

Spring is in the air, and, if you’re a high school junior, you may feel torn between tackling the future by prepping for college admissions and touring campuses, or enjoying the present as you camp, travel, or hang out with friends. But what if you could both prepare and have fun? What if your extra-curricular goal was to simply become more interesting?

In letter to prospective college applicants, Fred Hargadon, legendary dean of admissions at Stanford, Swarthmore, and Princeton, wrote, “...the person you will spend most of your life with is yourself, and therefore you owe it to yourself to become as interesting as possible.”

College admissions consultant Irena Smith shared Hargadon’s sound advice with me. As she explained, being interesting and engaged is the root a seemingly intangible quality that colleges look for in students: “intellectual vitality.” This quality goes beyond scores, grades, and extracurricular activities to encompass a deep-seated curiosity, a desire to engage with and understand the world. It’s a quality that can’t be faked, but can be cultivated—by spending time in libraries and museums, by listening to TED talks and podcasts, by solving diabolically complicated math problems or researching color blindness in fruit flies or trying to find the sweet spot between literal and literary translation from one language to another, by reading omnivorously and chasing the questions that grab your imagination. In other words, being interested is what makes us interesting.

FINDING THE SPARK

Sounds good, but on any given day, you might feel neither interested nor interesting. You might be saddled with watching your younger siblings, or obsessively drawn to mindless Youtube clips.You might be feeling just plain tired. Where do you find that spark?

Output—of any kind—requires input. And this is especially true when it comes to making our brains run. Start by inhaling something smart and satisfying. Take a close look at your life, and you’ll find you’re surrounded by wondrous things. There are the obvious events—an eclipse or a SpaceX launch—but also more subtle wonders. Concocting the perfect Japanese cheesecake or dissecting a politically relevant hip hop song or mastering a perfect dunk shot can charge your brain with curiosity. The key is to not be satisfied with a simple WOW. Slow down, and delve in to understand your amazement. You might analyze ingredients or lyrics or the arc of a thrown ball. You might dig up some history, or make comparisons. In other words whether you’re hooked on baking or basketball, don’t just think WOW, ask WHY.

ASKING WHY

To get in gear, talk with an interested friend or family member or write for a few minutes about why something, almost anything, appeals to you. And if nothing appeals? Engagement works just as readily in reverse. How do you think research into mosquito control took off? Sometimes irritations, as well as injustices, are the catalyst for discovery.

Keep in mind your first reasons for interest (or aggravation) will likely be mundane. Because it’s cool. Because it’s fascinating. Because it’s annoying. Or I’ve just always liked science or history or [fill in the blank.] Investigate further. And, yes, this may mean you Google the topic, read articles, listen to podcasts, watch a TED Talk, call your great aunt, or even join a club.Think of this research as a conversation in which you listen, and then contribute with some lively ideas of your own.

If you dig deep enough, you’ll no doubt discover something personal: a satisfaction in solving for x, an admiration for how Queen Victoria broke with courtly tradition. An old family recipe. Who knows? Whatever it is, it’s your spark, so kindle it—bring it to life.

Note: For those are thinking that to dissect or analyze will “ruin” the fun. I firmly disagree! Whether you’re learning to sew your own Victorian costume, exploring the surface of Mars using VR, or coming up with original choreography for a senior project, the funnest moments are acts of discovery. And discovery requires a mind in motion.

With your intellectual vitality sparked, you’ll be more ready to contribute to class discussions, and to engage in meaningful conversations. And we haven’t even gotten to college applications yet: cultivating intellectual vitality can naturally lead you to a powerful reading list for those schools that require one, and give your teacher recommenders plenty to gush about. You’ll likely be more engaging in campus interviews as well. And the icing on the cake? An impressive college application essay topic, straight from your own brilliant head.

Just remember, a great essay and even college acceptance is a happy side effect of engaging your brain. The real gift is your own rich life. Finding what you love and tending to it, you’ll skirt boredom, combat cynicism, and no doubt make the world better. So what are you waiting for? Go explore!

Happy (and mighty!) thinking,

Laurie

Friendly personalized College Application Essay help available at http://mightywriting.org/college-app-essay-coaching

Contact Laurie Filipelli — [email protected] or 512-415-6882

#college advice #college applications #college essay #college admission #college interview

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whynotredameessay767 · 4 years ago

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adventuresinlibraries · 5 years ago

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New Moon Girls Magazine

New Moon Girls Magazine- Girls are Beautiful as Themselves

Volume XXVI Issue #5: May/June 2019

Editor: Helen Cordes

Winner of the Golden Lamp Award - The Association of Educational Publishers, 2006

As a member of the Girl Scouts of America, I spend every other Saturday morning with leading activities with a curious and energetic group of 6-year old Daisies. I got curious as to whether there were any good magazines out there to engage them as readers and empower them as people.

In Mags, Zines, and gURLs: The Exploding World of Girls' Publications, the author Katherine Bayerl explains that “Drawing a line between magazines that offer a healthy, smart image of girlhood and magazines that are primarily fluff is hard to do.” she posits that the best way to do this is to look to the girls themselves. And, she explains that publishers are finding that giving a voice to a diverse set of girl’s perspectives and voices is the best way to do this. Bayerl, (2000)

I took a trip to my local Barnes and Noble and found the magazine section. My face fell. There are many options for teens and adults but very few choices for children. Most of the children’s choices are focused on crafts and STEM. But, as soon as I saw New Moon Girls, I knew I had found what I was seeking.

This magazine is written by kids. As a long-time reader and writer, I remember the moment where I realized that writing was a way to change the world. This magazine builds confidence by giving children a voice in an uplifting way and emphasizing a healthy outlook toward girlhood.

The cover is bold and simple. Splotches of red, green, and yellow bring attention to the various headings on the page and make a reader feel happy on sight. Right on the front, it says the publication is “Girl Created” The May/June Issue features circular portraits of girls against a white background. What drew me in were the words underneath each picture, “Creative, Empathetic, Kind, Helpful, Inclusive, and Strong” The cover echoes the Girl Scout Law that we recite each meeting. I love that it encourages all kinds of positive character-based traits adding another dimension to the title of the issue “Girls are “Beautiful as Themselves” focusing on the internal attributes of girlhood instead of the physical.

The pages inside are brightly colored, and the circles and bold swatches of color run throughout, a continuing visual motif that helps the readers eye travel across the pages.

Articles in this month’s issue include “Mood Swings”, “Pizzapalooza”, “Girls are Beautiful as Themselves” and “Fairy Story Contest” The magazine is easy to navigate with large headings and easily located page numbers.

Regular sections ask and answer questions, feature a quick overview of a girl somewhere in the world who embodies the values in the issue, introduce girl produced art, poetry, and stories. There is even a coloring page.

The girls featured in the issue are 10-14, although one New Moon intern pictured is 18. The age group represents a good swath of the demographic the publisher's target of girls aged eight and up. The article about how to cope with mood swings is a good example of this.

“Aaaaak, if you’ve ever boomeranged from one emotion to another, find out the why and how of dealing with it. “ the intro reads.

The language is informal and straight forward, the playful “Aaaaak” balancing the gravity of the topic.

The advice given is practical and kind. And, the author’s perspective is that of an older sister or mentor. The page features a picture of the writer and intern, an 18-year-old girl. Including the photo gives kids the clue that the material is written by someone who understands how kids think because she was recently one herself.

One of the tips included “When I find a trigger to my feelings, I then see if there’s something I can do about the situation. I ask myself: What if anything could I have done to prevent feeling this way and what can I do to stop? Is there a bigger problem going on that I need to address before I can effectively deal with my feelings?” This kind of straightforward cognitive-behavioral approach is useful and takes into account the age of the reader and the idea that socio-emotional learning should be taught. Oliver, (2018)

The article on mood swings is serious. But the issue isn’t afraid to get silly. A page called the “Persuading Game” features short persuasive blurbs written by kids. This month’s choices picks are “Pet Rocks Are the Superior Pets” and “Why Cats Should be Used as Dust Mops”. A spotlight on the Kindness Rocks project is included at the bottom with the corny yet effective title “Rock On!”

Another way the magazine targets its intended audience is by offering them activities to engage in. There is a coloring page, engaging younger readers. And the interviews with readers show somewhat older girls that they can be activists, artists, or sports enthusiasts, and enjoy a wide variety of hobbies.

This mix of immediate content and activities kids can consider for later, extends the time kids can take thinking about the content. This increases comprehension and teaches kids to think deeply about what they read. Many pages have instructions included about how kids can participate in the making of the magazine itself, including hyperlinks for submitting content, like in the art gallery page. This might remind parents of the magazine Highlights, whose reader created pages were some of my favorites as a young writer.

The last thing that drew me to this magazine was its focus on diverse moments in women’s history. The calendar on page 32 includes holidays and special days, like “National Peanut Butter Cookie Day” but also includes birthdays of famous women like Grace Lee Boggs, who was a Chinese-American fighter for civil rights. And, the last page features a biography of journalist and civil rights activist Ida B. Wells. It was written by a reader, who’s bio is included at the bottom and includes a book recommendation where kids can find more information.

Most magazines that allow children a by-line would get my vote. But this one is particularly stellar. It focuses on character and true empowerment and gives kids lots to think about and do.

Other magazines for that empower by accepting kids submissions are:

BAZOOF! Winner of the Parent’s Choice Award, “is a health and creativity print publication with a digital option. It is set in a bustling city in outer space that readers visit as they turn the pages. Along with much fun and adventure, educates on nutrition, personal care, fitness, healthy lifestyles, character development, eco-education—all in a creative and zany style! Filled with short stories, comics, recipes, puzzles, games, crafts, jokes, riddles, pet care, interviews, healthy snacks, sports, true stories, fun facts, prizes and more!”

Skipping Stones:

a global issues magazine for tweens and teens whose submissions policy reads “ We invite youth (ages 7 to 18 yrs.) writings on intercultural, international or multicultural understanding and/or nature & environmental theme. Essays, letters, stories should be exactly 30 words or 30 sentences, and poems should be either 30 words or 30 lines, exactly.“

Find it at skippingstones.org

And, Stone Soup, a magazine of literature and art accepting submissions from kids ages 4-13. Stone Soup is now in its 46th year and has added a website component.

Bayerl, Katherine. “Mags, Zines, and GURLs: The Exploding World of Girls' Publications.” Women's Studies Quarterly, vol. 28, no. 3/4, 2000, pp. 287–292. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/40005489.

Oliver, Brandie. “Department of Education Social Emotional Learning.” Indiana Department of Education Social Emotional Toolkit Learning: Built Upon A Neurodevelopmental Culturally Responsive Framework, Indiana Department of Education, 2018, https://www.doe.in.gov/sites/default/files/sebw/sel-toolkit-final-updated-cover.pdf.

#magazine

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yourcycleyourfood · 8 years ago

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I Tried Whoopi Goldberg’s Medical Cannabis for Periods, and It’s Awesome

Can You Really Treat Cramps and PMS With Cannabis? We Tried it to Find Out.

by Beth Winegarner

via wearyourvoicemag.com

The uterus contains some of the strongest muscles in the human body, so it’s no surprise that for some people who have periods, monthly menstrual cramps hurt as much as a heart attack. Ten percent of them suffer crippling endometriosis pain — which Girls creator Lena Dunham discussed in an unflinching essay last fall. But even for menstruating people whose reproductive systems are, theoretically, functioning as nature intended, cramps and PMS can be hell.

Actress Whoopi Goldberg says she suffered a “lifetime of difficult periods,” and that the only thing that brought her real relief was marijuana. (Two years ago, she wrote an essay called, “My vape pen and I, a love story.”) This spring, she teamed up with Emeryville, California-based Maya Elisabeth, a whiz at making and selling cannabis edibles, to launch a new line of products aimed at relieving menstrual pain and PMS.

“Relax” tincture:

This stuff is pretty great. Each dropperful contains “about” 3.3 milligrams of THC, along with St. John’s wort, elderberries, cramp bark and raspberry leaf. I’m very sensitive to THC, so I like the fact that the tincture lets you get just a small amount (or more, if you want it). It also tastes much less skunky than some other tinctures I’ve tried. Taken under the tongue, it begins to work within about 20-30 minutes, alleviating cramps and other body pain and leaving you in a more chill state of mind. They also suggest putting it in tea or a “sparkling beverage,” but I didn’t try it that way.

“Savor” sipping chocolate:

Chocolate is one of my best friends (I could probably write a love letter to it like Whoopi’s missive to her “Sippy”), especially when my period is on its way. This raw cacao spread comes in a little pot; it’s quite solid, which makes it challenging to scoop some out for hot cocoa (or just eat it straight with a spoon, because come on). It’s dark and delicious, with that herbal cannabis twang. It’s also potent — I made a mini-serving of cocoa with a small amount of the supposedly high-CBD, low-THC stuff and still felt kinda high. They claim that each four-ounce jar contains four 20 to 25-milligram servings. I think I’d be flat on the floor if I followed that hot chocolate recipe.

“Rub” balm:

Last year a doctor prescribed me Voltaren, a topical anti-inflammatory gel, for tendonitis in my ankle. It provided immediate relief but also made me feel totally stoned for about a day afterward. The doctor told me she’d never heard of such a reaction. Whatever. The Whoopi & Maya balm, which contains cannabis and some of the same herbs as the tincture, is what I wished the Voltaren had been: it provides almost instant pain relief without getting you high. To be fair, I didn’t try it for cramps; I tried it on my ankle, my hands after a long day of typing, a crick in my neck — it worked well for all of them. One caveat: it comes with Whoopi & Maya’s “signature” scent, “amber moon,” which is pleasant but a little on the perfumey side.

“Soak” bath salts:

All “high on bath salts” jokes aside, this soak doesn’t really get you high, despite containing about 25 milligrams of THC. These soaks come in three scents — unscented, amber moon and lavender — and contain epsom salts, lovely moisturizing oils and, of course, THC. It’s hard to say whether it’s the epsom salts or the THC that soothed my achy muscles and cramps, but either way, a long bath in the lavender-scented soak was pretty much like floating on a marshmallow cloud while your personal celebrity dreamboat gives you a massage. The oils leave you a bit, well, oily, but they absorb in nicely if you decide not to shower them off. The only way this bath could have been better was if I hadn’t had to constantly keep my tub-loving kitty from trying to drink the water.

by Beth Winegarner

via wearyourvoicemag.com

want to eat in tune with your menstrual cycle? follow yourcycleyourfood

#menstrual #luteal #menstrual cycle #period #food #whoopi goldberg #medical cannabis

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zillowcondo · 8 years ago

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This & That: July 7, 2017

Book

—Wine All the Time by Marissa A. Ross

Released this past June (27th), the official wine columnist of Bon Appétit magazine shares an accessible book about wine and the culture of France’s drink of choice. Discover how to find the best wine on your budget, accurately describe what you are tasting thereby being able to describe what you want when stepping into your local wine shop, and master the art of pairing wine with food. In a playful tone, Ross takes readers into a previously mysterious (perhaps) arena and sheds light on what initially, but unnecessarily seems daunting to understand. (Read this article to get a taste of her approach to wine.)

Film

—The Hero

Sam Elliott. The voice, aptly described by film critic Peter Debruge as “wet-gravel”. In many ways his new film, The Hero, which debuted at Sundance earlier this year, purposely has many similarities to his own acting career except one glaring difference – Elliott continues to get scripts while his character, Lee Hayden, the faded-glory Western star, does not. Have a look at the trailer and look for it in movie theaters now.

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Francophile Find

—A Paris All Your Own: Best-Selling Woman Authors on the City of Light by Eleanor Brown

The New York Times bestselling author, Eleanor Brown who joined me on the podcast last summer when her book The Light of Paris was released, has just released a compilation of essays from well-known and beloved women authors who each have written books inspired by Paris. What makes each essay unique is how different each of their experiences of the City of Light were. Who are some of the authors you may be wondering? Here’s a quick peek: Paula McLain, Therese Anne Fowler, Meg Waite Clayton, M. J. Rose, Susan Vreeland, Cara Black, Lauren Willig, and Julie Powell (author of Julie & Julia). Phew! Now this book looks perfect for traveling to Paris from the comfort of your own home. Frugal travel. (For more summer reading ideas, check out TSLL’s 10 Summer Books for 2017 here).

Shopping

—Diane Lane’s camera in Paris Can Wait – Leica C Digital Camera

Since the post which offered shopping opportunities to duplicate Diane Lane’s wardrobe scene in her most recent film Paris Can Wait in the weekly Style Inspiration post, many of you have emailed asking about the camera as well as her tote. Well, the good news is I have found one of them and will continue to keep my eye out for the other. Leica C digital camera in rose gold is the exact camera seen below. While it is pricey, if you are a regular photog, it might be worth saving up for.

—AMO Lover In the Cards Jeans

Just this past Tuesday on the weekly Style Inspiration post, cropped ankle jeans were the focus of summer time classic style. And while I shared a handful of shopping options on that particular post, I recently came across this pair from Forward’s shopping site that are worth checking out. Perfect for spring or summer, the hue is light, worn and hits at just above the ankle (again, check the length to confirm for your height) and is a simple straight leg style with a comfortable waist height.

—Engineered Garments Cinch Pants in Khaki

Another essential for summer is the khaki pant. But why not make sure the khaki looks tailored and well fitted? These cinched pants (in the back) would be beautifully paired with a loose fitting white linen shirt and white camisole. And I have found a classic white linen button up that goes easy on the budget here from The White Company that I think you will love. Be sure to check it out.

Technology

—Sudio Bluetooth earphones & headphones

I regularly listen to my iPod when I go on my daily walks with my dogs, but I must admit I have had a few “conversations” with the earphones due to the tangled mess created by the cords more times than I would like to admit. But not anymore.

Sudio Sweden’s new Bluetooth technology made available in their Vasa Blå earphones eliminates the cord. Capable of up to 8+ hours of listening time, the headphones can connect to any device that is Bluetooth compatible. Your smart phone? Yep. Want to have a conversation on your walk without the pesky cords? Yep. I have been using their Vasa Blå rose gold white earphones (seen below) and love them. With studio sound quality, I feel as though I have surround sound wherever in nature I may be, and they make it easy to skip ahead or back in your playlist as well.

If you’re curious and in need of becoming untangled, TSLL readers have a special discount. Simply enter TSLL15 at checkout for any of their items and receive 15% off your purchase. Happy listening!

Television

—Odd Mom Out

It’s back. Odd Mom Out‘s star Jill Kargman who plays mom on the Upper East Side who just doesn’t fit in, Jill Weber, returns for its third season. Premiering on Bravo Wednesday July 12th at 10 pm, tune in for the antics, the laughs and a summer viewing good-time. Have a look at the trailer below.

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~recipe for Caramelised Red Onion & Goat Cheese Tarts~

Summer warmth and good, fresh food. How was your Fourth of July celebration? I am not sure, but I think some people may still be celebrating, traveling and vacationing. When did this particular holiday weekend begin anyway? Last weekend or on Tuesday and run through this weekend? Either way, summer is here and the pace is perfect and flexible.

Trying new recipes, exploring new topics in my writing, reading intriguing books, watching Le Tour de France and some tennis at Wimbledon. Yep, pretty much, that is my summer at that moment, and it’s quite sweet. I do hope yours is sweet and delicious as well. Below are more than a few articles I think you might enjoy. Until Monday bonne journée!

~Are you watching Wimbledon as much as I am? If you are, the all-white dress code has always intrigued me. Discover how many athletes have bent, but not broken this rule over the years.

~Speaking of athletes, your abs will get a workout with this 6 1/2 minute ab routine from former Olympic swimming champion Dana Torres. (I tried it. My abs hurt. It’s tough, but doable. Now, I am determined to stick with it. We’ve got this!)

~Finding the balance: here are 7 tips to try to make your work and personal life work meld well together

~I must admit, I gravitate towards books and posts when the phrase “French Woman/Girl” are in the title. Why does it work and what does that mean? Read this article to find out “How to Sell A Million Dollar Myth Like a French Girl”

~Does this post fall into that category of the French seduction? 10 Things You Need in Your Kitchen According to Parisians . . . perhaps, but their points are worth considering.

~David Leibovitz’s latest recipe shared on the blog proves many of the points shared in the above post to be true. Fresh, top quality, simply delicious.

~As a local in Bend, the French cuisine is one of the few that has been ignored . . . until now. Take a look inside the new French Market dining establishment for lunch and dinner.

~Have your shopping habits changed as you have grown older? Most likely for the better, and here are a few more things to consider “Shopping Mistakes to Avoid After You’re 30”

~It really is true, money and fame are actually a byproduct of true success, and here are 8 signs to prove the point.

~Speaking of success, these 10 things are habits that the most successful people do each day.

This & That: July 7, 2017 published first on http://ift.tt/2pewpEF

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