#willen my beloved

[hopetilia]

Ehrlich gesagt würde ich gerne sächsischer sprechen, als ich es tue. Mein Dialekt ist mir wichtig und es nervt mich sehr dass ich nicht sicher bewusst code-switchen kann (ich spreche automatisch sächsisch mit meinen Eltern). Jetzt im Westen zu wohnen und null aufzufallen mit meinem Deutsch führt manchmal zu viel Überraschung von Seiten meiner Kommilitonen, dass ich doch aus dem Osten komme - eigentlich nie etwas schlechtes zum Glück - aber ich wünschte ich würde mich dabei nicht immer wie so ein secret agent fühlen.

Anyway, Sächsisch ist geil!! Besonders natürlich erzgebirgisch Sächsisch!! Wenn mir jemals wieder jemand sagt Sächsisch ist hässlich werde ich nur noch mit ihm Sächsisch reden!!

(und wenn mir nochmal gesagt wird der Osten ist hässlich dann genauso)

Achtung: längerer Post.

We have to talk über Dialekte. Um spezifischer sein, ostdeutsche Dialekte.

Ich muss sagen, ich weiß nicht genau wie ich das in Worten ausdrücken soll, aber jedes mal wenn sächsisch als Punchline für einen Witz genutzt wird, könnte ich ausrasten. Das eigentliche Problem ist nicht mal das der Dialekt in einem Witz verwendet wird, sondern das öfters eine Bewertung mitschwingt. Entweder eben der dumme Ossi (weil oftmals auch nicht zwischen den verschiedenen Dialekten im Osten unterscheidet wird und weil die DDR mal existiert hat) oder jetzt in neueren Zeiten der dumme, rechte Ossi. Und wer Dialekt spricht, wird auch eher als ungebildet angesehen. Toll.

(Ich weiß Witze über Bayern und den dazugehörigen Dialekt existieren auch, aber Bayern hat keine DDR-Geschichte.)

Es ist ärgerlich, weil das eine Erfahrung ist die viele Westdeutsche nie haben werden. Ich rede an dieser Stelle von Westdeutschen, denn sollte ich jemals in den Westen ziehen wird mich meine Aussprache und mein Vokabular als ostdeutsch verraten. Und wenn man ostdeutsch ist, haben einige Menschen viele Vorurteile. Ich muss wahrscheinlich nicht mal aufschreiben über welche Vorurteile ich rede.

Ein Gespräch werde ich wahrscheinlich nie vergessen, das hat mich stark geprägt. Ein Gruppenchat auf WhatsApp mit gleichaltrigen und progressiven Menschen. Es beginnt ein Gespräch über Ostdeutschland und Politik. Es fällt irgendwann die Aussage (bedeutungs- aber nicht wortgenau), dass man ja alle Nazis nach Ostdeutschland packen könne, denn die Leute dort haben ja kein Problem damit. Diese Aussage macht mich bis heute wütend. Es ist auch nicht viel besser wenn Leute fordern, dass wieder eine Mauer aufgebaut werden soll. Glückwunsch, keine Solidarität mit ostdeutschen Linken zu haben ist total cool. Manchmal fehlt es an Perspektive, manchmal an Verständnis, manchmal sind Leute auch nur ignorant und haben das Privileg die AfD nur als ostdeutsches Problem zu sehen.

Dieser Post ist eigentliche nur eine Erweiterung meines Wahl Post, aber naja.

[thebugthatruinsyourpicnic]

nederlandse starkidfans my beloveds

[creepychippy]

Twisted Truth - Luigi’s Mansion 3 Fanfic

The whirring of Machinery, static Noises of Light and the occasional Chit-Chatting between some Ghosts echoed throughout the Laboratory that belonged to a certain little Ghost Researcher, who was currently researching something on his Computer.

17 Spectras were given the Duty of protecting valuable as well as important Elevator Buttons that were handed out to them away from a green clothed Plumber.  “He’s a malicious Ghosthunter who wants to stuff you into Paintings.”, as they were told. Most of them have put up a Fight against said Menace but were captured by him in the End regardless, including another Ghoul that was being deployed into one of the dome-shaped Capsules at the Moment, prominent by the all to familiar humming Sound that the trapped Souls got used to after a While.

“Gloria!”, the muscular Swimmer beside her called out, knocking a few Times on the Glass to get her Attention. He in Return got a sheepish Wave from her, her other Hand readjusting the Wig she was wearing on her Head as it got a little bit messed up during the Exchange Process.

“Yeah, I... sadly got captured. The Plumber’s got some groovy Moves however, I tell ya that.”

For a few Minutes, the ghostly Residents exchanged many Words between them, which however died down after a While, as there was seemingly nothing to discuss about anymore. That is however until the quiet Pianist took Note of something.

“Kruller, you seem to be pondering about something. What is on your Mind, if I may ask?”

Upon hearing his named being mentioned, the ghostly Cop snapped out of his deep Thoughts, resulting him glancing around in a confused Manner for a few Seconds before he turned towards Amadeus.

“Ah, I- it’s just-... n-nothing, really...”, he stammered out, his Hand shakingly fixing his Sunglasses. Even though he was one of the few Ghosts who got caught early on, he seemed still shaken up about it.

“Are you sure it is nothing? It appeared as if something is troubling your Mind, at least so it did to me.”, the ghostly Pianist calmly explained while having one Arm behind his back and gesturing with the other.

“Uhm, well...”

For a Moment, Kruller hesitated, but he quickly collected himself.

“Isn’t... it weird? All of this?”

“What do you mean, Dearie?”, a sweet Voice beside him suddenly chimed in. Apparently, the Conversation between the Cop and the Pianist has gotten the Attention of the ghostly Maid.

“I mean, what I’m- uhm... what I’m going to say next may sound strange, but... I don’t believe that the Plumber that Miss Gravely t-told us about is as evil as she makes him out to be...”

Upon noticing that some confused Stares were aimed towards him, his Voice went quieter at the last few Words, as some Sweatdrops were building on his Forehead again.

“Elaborate, please.”, the ghoulish Pianist told the ghostly Cop, his Eyebrows furrowing a little bit.

“I just mean- I mean, look at him. Miss Hellen told us that we potentionally have to face off against an evil Baddie who along a malicious Scientist wants to lock us into P-Paintings and keep us trapped in them forever. However, when I-I watched him through the Cameras from Time to Time, even encountered him-... all I saw was a scared and frightened Human, p-perhaps... lost even...” 

At this Point, every Spectra’s Attention was turned towards the nervous Mall Cop, quietly listening to him explain.

“Lad, Ah fought against Enemies that wanted me dead when Ah was alive, regardless if they were wetting their Pants or not. Just 'cause he was frightened doesn’t mean that he's innocent or that he doesn’t have any ill Intentions.”, a booming Voice that had an scottish Accent to it suddenly broke the Silence that had built itself around the Room just mere Seconds ago.

“Actually... I-I think I have to agree with Kruller in this Case. For someone who is supposed to be ‘a scary and vicious Ghosthunter who wants us locked away forever’, he appeared quite hesitant with attacking me, at least for the first few Moments. Not only that, but we have been trapped inside of these Capsules for Hours now instead of these terrifying Paintings that were mentioned.”, the thin Bellhop chimed in out of the blue as he folded his Arms, him seemingly pondering about something as well.

“Erm, t-that’s not the only Thing, though... P-please take a Look at that Capsule that stands besides Dr. Potter and Ug.”

As everybody turned towards the transparent Device, it turned out that said Capsule was empty.

“N-now look at all of us. Which one of us is missing?”

Thinking about it, everybody eventually came to the same Conclusion.

Morty.

“That is indeed weird. Where is he?”, the green Gardener scratched the Back of his Head, as he was puzzled as to what could have happened to the Movie Director.

Raising his Cap slightly with his gloved Hand, the ghostly Hillbilly decided to throw his own Argument into the Round.

“Well, maybe dat good ol’ Pipsqueak of a Plumber jus’ snatch'd dat shiny Button right out of our dear and beloved Director’s Hands when he wasn’t lookin. After dat, he jus’ left him ’lone to do his own lil’ Thing.”

“B-but don’t you realize something?”

Kruller was now staring at Clem, hoping that he would understand what he was trying to get across.

“It means that the supposed ‘malicious’ Ghosthunter and his little Scientist Friend wasn’t out to capture all of us like we were told and previously had assumed, else Morty would be here with us at this very Moment.”, Serpci exclaimed as the Revelation suddenly came to her Mind.

“Exactly! A-and besides that-”, once again, the intruiged Glances were being directed at the ghostly Cop, “- I-I think there’s something else I noticed...”

Timidly adjusting his Sunglasses as they slipped off a little bit before, he voiced the other Realization he made out aloud to everyone.

“E-every Ghost, i-inside this Hotel, us included, behaved much more... how should I say this... ‘agitated’ or ‘aggressive’ than usual...”

The ghostly Residents quietly looked at each other. Now that Kruller mentioned it, the ghoulish Inhabitants of this Place did indeed act out much more strangely as of lately.

“T-take Steward for Example. Remember when we talked about the Encounter we had with the Ghosthunter?” 

“Yes, I did.”, the red clothed Bellhop answered while staring at the purple Cop.

“Y-you said that you threw the Luggage inside the Garage at him when he fought against you, right?”

“You did what now?”, the sweet Voice that the undead Maid carried turned into a much more shocked Tone upon hearing this sort of Information.

“I know that you work a lot and are probably under a lot of Stress, but it isn’t like you to suddenly act out like this, Dearie!”

“Well, I... I don’t know what came over me. I just saw the Luggage and my Mind instinctively went ‘throw it at the Plumber’.”

This Time, some concerned as well as worried Glances were shared around the Group.

“A-and you, Chambrea. Please tell us how your Encounter went again.”

“I was peacefully cleaning the Room and saw a pretty Suitcase, but the green Ghosthunter appeared out of nowhere all of the sudden. Out of Panic, I... swallowed the Suitcase and fled the Scene...”

A slight Blush crept across the Maid’s Face as some murmuring from others could be heard. Meanwhile, Kruller decided to explain his Part of the Story, and at the End he finally turned towards the ghostly Chef beside him.

“Well, I was cooking in ze Kitchen as usual, until ze Plumber and his weird Doppelganger suddenly broke into it, which caused me to drop my Dish and.... suddenly lash out... at zem...”

At first, the orange Cook was confidently telling his Part of the Story, but his Voice dropped as soon as Realization dawned on him and he uncomfortably rubbed his Neck.

“Mister Wolfgeist, do you may want to continue?”, Chambrea calmly asked him, however Worry was now stretched over her Face.

“I was playing on my Piano, until that green Plumber walked into the Auditorium. I thought I could ignore him and simply just throw some Chairs at him to scare him off, but he turned out to be much more persistent than what I had previously assumed him to be. After that, he captured some Goobs, causing my Concentration to be thrown off and ulimately leading me to become really mad at him. In a Fit of Rage and Attempt to finally get rid of him, I... possessed my Piano and tried to slam it into him... destroying it in the Process...”

The well known nonchalant Expression that the Pianist carried on his Face was suddenly replaced with that of Dread, as he slowly looked down upon his Hands.

“Um Himmels Willen... what in Lord’s Name just came over me...”

On and on the Explanations went, with most Ghosts expressing the Feelings of Regret and Guilt as well as that of Unease and Concern along the Way and everybody making Revelation after Revelation.

“Just what the Hell is going on?”, Johnny blurted out while holding his Hands against his Head, as the current Situation admittedly made him more and more anxious as well as puzzled.

The DJ next to him tried to talk to the ghostly Swimmer in order to calm him down: “Johnny, Sweetie, please chill out. I’m sure we can find out what exactly is going on!”

“I be sure that Hellen be behind all o' this! I swear on me other Eye!”

“Miss Gravely? Why would you think that she would do something like this?”, Dr. Potter questioned the aquatic Pirate while adjusting his Glasses.

As every Soul was beginning to get into a heated Argument, including Ug who only was able to speak Gibberish, the ghostly Maid noticed that the Bellhop beside her was starting to act more nervously.

“Steward, Dearie, is everything alright?”

“...’s all my Fault...”, he mumbled in a tense Manner, his Sentence being barely audible, and he anxiously rubbed his Arms.

“Steward?-”

“It’s all my Fault!”, he blurted out all of the sudden, causing the Discussions between the Spectras to come to a Halt and look at him.

“How is this your Fault? You can’t be behind all of this, now can you?”

Crossing his Arms, Amadeus proceeded to stare at Steward questioningly, like he was trying to knock some Sense into the Bellhop for even bringin up such Claim.

“A-apologies, Stress got over me again. It’s just... I could have maybe prevented this and I’m blaming myself for it.”

The ghostly Cop gave him a sympathetic Glance and spoke up: “How so?”

“All of you perhaps heard about how a special Guest came to the Last Resort to visit us, correct? King Boo, as I recall. Before he arrived here, everything was running pretty smoothly and-”

“So ya think it was him?-”

Promptly, the ghoulish Pianist held up a Hand towards the pink Electrician.

“Clem, let Steward finish, it is rude to interrupt him when he wasn’t finished talking.”

“M’sorry.”

Clearing his Throat, the blue Spectra continued: “As I said, everything was pretty normal. That is until I went onto Miss Gravely’s Floor to retrieve the Elevator Buttons as well as Instructions and hand them out to you...”

He stopped for a Moment and grabbed at his Bowtie slightly, but collected himself and proceeded with his Story.

“No matter where I looked, there were Sculpures as well as Painting of this particular Guest everywhere. I... I think I even caught some Glimpses of Merchandise of him... Gee, I-I should have warned all of you and talked about it after all of what I have seen instead of keeping it to myself. In Hindsight, it was definitely a red Flag and certainly not normal...”

Some disturbed Expressions where exchanged in the Round, until MacFrights finally spoke up.

“So ya think a small wittle Boo who calls himself a ‘King’ could’ve done all of tis?”

“It wasn’t a small Boo, far from it! He was far bigger than Miss Gravely, his Appereance was much more different as well as menacing than that of a regular Boo and he wore a Crown with a Gem on it!”

“A Gem?”

The intruiged Queen chimed in as her yellow Eyes stared into those of Steward’s.

“Yes, a giant purple one.”

“Hmm, you’re definitely onto something then.”

In a Matter of Seconds, the entire Attention was now focused solely on Serpci.

“When I was alive, I was told Stories about how Kings and Queens amongst the Lands would use Gems that contained great Powers within them to rule over their respected Kingdoms. Even in todays Era, Tales of Folks using these particular Gems to harvest their powerful Abilities and utilizing them to their Advantages still make the Rounds.”, she recalled to the Group, one Hand resting against her Cheek while the other supported her Elbow.

“Of course!”

Ths Time, everybody turned their Heads towards the Capsule that contained the Triplets, since one of them, Ginny to be precise, seemingly remembered something.

“It has to be Mind-Controlling Magic that he’s using against us! Me and my Sisters know about a Tale that took present inside of the Evershade Valley a long Time ago. A Being with powerful Abilities apparently was able to use Mind-Controlling Magic against the Ghosts that reside there in said Area. We were so impressed an fascinated by that Story that we even have a small Replica of the Gloomy Manor inside an Aquarium in one of our Rooms!”

“So-”, Soulfflé kneaded his Temples, “if I’m understanding zis correctly, all of zis Trouble is happening because our dear Hotelowner has an Obsession over a big oversized Marshmallow who decided to trick and manipulate the entire Hotel? Just great...”

Even though it was pretty apparent what was going on, there were still some unanswered Questions that lingered in the Air.

“But what Reason would they have to bring a Ghosthunter here out of all Places, let alone send him after all of us? It just doesn’t make any Sense in my Head!”

Seeing Gloria getting so frustrated, Clem let out a tiny Snicker followed by a sarcastic Comment while he casually leaned back in his Rubber Duckie Floatie that he was lying on.

“Before ya totally break yer Head over such complicated Question, why don’‘t cha ask the Lady who’s behind all of this hersel-”

A familiar humming Noise once again echoed throughout the Room, interrupting the undead Electrician in his Speech, and every trapped Soul turned their Head towards the Source of the Commotion.

A certain ghostly Hotelowner with her beloved Pet was deployed into one of the Capsules this Time.

This was going to be one long an interesting Discussion.

[vow-upon-a-star]

Hypocrisy regarding translations.

“What aren’t you understand? For Lumen Publishing to PURCHASE the rights to translate the novels that means Square Enix allowed it, which means they wanted the translations. Once more, you cannot publish a translation unless you have the approval of the copyright holder.”

This doesn’t apply to the English version for some reason. Nor does it matter Nojima, the man who wrote the novellas, approves of the English version.

“Cloud was her friend, more than a friend, for she had loved him.”

(link)

Nojima also said he wrote each story from the respective character’s perspective. I.e third person limited from Aerith in CoTLS:W. They are not objective statements from Nojima. Whatever let’s ignore this and continue to say he confirmed Cloud and Aerith lovers in multiple languages, except the English one that he supports. There isn’t much to say here, I mean...when the author himself supports this translation over all the others if pretty much makes “well it contradicts the German, French, and Spanish!” when here the author himself is approving the English version. Just...there’s no need to argue. Word of God has spoken. The English translation of the Novella is approved by the dude who actually WROTE the story. 

Cleriths before the English version of the 25th Anniversary Ultimania is released: 

Dark Horse is a major company, this is huge, no matter how you feel about the mistakes and retcons SE just legitimized them!!!!

“They removed the “aisuru mono” that referenced Aerith.”  

すべての決着を …… 少年時代のあこがれ、愛するものを奪った仇、そしてリユニオンの母体—–セフィロス。星の敵として以上に因縁の存在である彼と1対1で 決着をつけなくては、クラウドの戦いは終わらない。

The bolded bit is “Aisuru Mono”   愛するもの

Clerith fan translation: "The enemy who was admired in childhood, took away something loved for the reunion of mother Sephiroth.”

Anonymous translator: “The one admired in boyhood, the enemy who took away a loved one, and Mother’s reunion body Sephiroth. ”

Clerith fan translation: With all determination…

Sephiroth�� an idol in his early youth, the one who took away his dearly beloved, and then the prototype of “reunion.” Not only he is the enemy of the Planet and the above reasons, also because the 1-to-1 fight with him is not yet settled, Cloud’s battle is not end.

Cloti Anonymous translator

Settling it all… A longing for boyhood, an enemy who robbed loved ones, and Mother’s reunion- Sephiroth. “In addition as the enemy of the planet, if Cloud doesn’t settle score with him one on one, clouds’s battle will not be over

Anonymous translation: 

To the settling of everything..... The one idolized in boyhood, the foe who snatched away loved ones, the Reunion of his mother's body—Sephiroth. More than a fateful existence as enemy of the Planet, Cloud's battle will not end unless things are settled with him, one on one.

“The French and Japanese are clear!”

Bataille decisive…

Son idole ge jeunesse, l’assassin de ses proches et la piece maitresse du project Jenova : un ex-SOLDAT nomme Sephiroth, C’est un dancer pour la planete, et Cloud doit le battre en duel afin d’en finir une bonne fois pour toutes.

Clerith translation of the French version:

“Last battle…

His youth idol, the murderer of his close relatives/loved ones (in french they use the word proches which can mean both of the meanings) and the centerpiece of Jenova project : an ex Soldier called Sephiroth. It’s a danger for the plant, and Cloud must fight him to defeat him once and for all”

Anonymous translation of the French version:

Decisive battle …

His youthful idol, the killer of his loved ones and the masterpiece of Project Jenova: an ex-SOLDIER calls Sephiroth, It’s a dancer for the planet, and Cloud has to duel him in order to finish once and for all for all.

The French translation is clear guys. But what about the Japanese aisuru mono? Why would the French do this?!

Oh. 

Hey, what about the German translation?

Die Letzte Entscheidung...

Sephiroth: Clouds idol, doch sein held vernichtete Clouds heimatstadt und war verantwortfich fur den Tod vieler Menschen. Als er sich zum Feind des Planeten erklart, fuhlt Cloud sich schicksalhaft mit ihm verbunden. So lange er ihn nicht im direkten duell besiegt, wird der kampf fur Cloud niemals enden.

Sephiroth: Clouds idol, but his hero destroyed Cloud's hometown and was responsible for the deaths of many people. When he declares himself an enemy of the planet, Cloud fatefully feels connected to him. As long as he does not defeat him in a direct duel, the fight for the Cloud will never end.

And finally, we have the English version.

The End of Everything

Sephiroth –the hero of Cloud’s youth, the man who took everything from him, and the foundation of the Jenova Reunion Theory. Cloud’s battle cannot end until he confronts the enemy of the Planet and settles things, man to man.

The Japanese,  French, German, and English make no reference to Aerith specifically, but rather reference Sephiroth taking away many people/things from Cloud without any being more important than the other. 

As a side note, it makes little sense for Cloud and Sephiroth’s final battle having to do with solely Aerith, considering he wanted to settle things with Sephiroth before Aerith was murdered. 

Dark Horse did not remove “a reference to Aerith” because there was no reference solely to her.

This is eyes 目

And this is ears 耳

It's a typo. ”This guy are sick.”  “Aeris” and referring to Rosso as a “he.” 

Like the French version doesn’t have mistakes? Since we’re at it, let’s look at something the French translation did that is absent from the Japanese and English version. 

“Aerith s’est finalement rendu compte qu’il etait manipule par une autre concsience. Alors qu’il l’attaque, elle refuse de se defendre et lui parle comme une mere quis tenterait de calmer la rage de son fils.”

Aerith finally realized that he was being manipulated by another conscience. While he’s attacking her, she refuses to defend herself and speaks to him like a mother trying to calm the rage of her son.

vs the German version

Aerith merkt, dass Cloud von einem fremden willen gelenkt wurde. Obwohl er selbst ihr gregenuber gewalttatig wird, spricht sie auf ein, als ware er ein kleines Kind, und meint, dass es nicht seine Schuld war.

Aerith realizes that Cloud has been controlled by someone else. Although he himself violently greets her, she speaks as if he were a small child, saying that it was not his fault.

The Japanese:

クラウドが別の意思に支配されていると気づいたエアリス。彼に暴力を振るわれても抵抗せず、「 あなたのせいじゃない」と子どもをなだめるように言いつづける 。

Aerith realized that Cloud was being controlled by another will/person. She doesn’t resist him even as he strikes her violently, saying “It’s not your fault” over and over to try and calm the child down.

Aerith realized that Cloud was being controlled by another will. Without resisting his violent attack, she continues to say “It’s not your fault”, in order to soothe the child.

And the English version:

In my opinion, the English version did cleriths a solid here. I do believe that the “anti-clerith” English version would be favored by shippers since the French translated it very differently. 

While I’m still beating this dead horse let’s look at the French translation’s version of Cloud and Tifa’s love. 

Pendant sa jeunesse, Cloud etait un jeune rebelle qui s’isolait des autres enfants, car il voul’ait croire qu’il etait different. A ses yeux, neanmoins, Tifa etait une personne speciale. C’est dans ses souvenirs que l’on decouvre cette romance ephemere.

During his youth, Cloud was a young rebel who isolated himself from other children, because he wanted to believe that he was different. In his eyes, however, Tifa was a special person. It is in his memories that we discover this ephemeral romance.

Ephemeral of course means, fleeting. This has been used as canon proof by CA that Cloud’s feelings for Tifa were short-lived and fleeting. Here it states there was a short-lived romance.

This statement is contradicted in the same book, in the same language.

Pendant des années, Tifa et Cloud ont secrètement eu des sentiments l’un pour l’autre. Avant la dernière bataille face à Sephiroth, ils arrivent enfin a se les avouer.

Anonymous translation

For years, Tifa and Cloud have secretly had feelings for each other. Before the last battle with Sephiroth, they finally manage to confess.

You can read this post here about what this translation means. 

Let’s move on to the German version! Which...is pretty different. 

Als Cloud klein war, wurde gleichaltrigen Kindern gemieden, Der einsame und ausgestoßene Cloud erschuf seine eigene Erklarung und glaubte, etwas ganz Besonderes zu sein. Fur ihn war aber Tifa damals sehr wichtig. In seiner Gedankenwelt wird deutlich, wie innig seine Emotionen damals fur sie waren.

When Cloud was little he was shunned by kids the same age. The lonely and outcast Cloud created his own explanation for it and believed to be something special. But Tifa was important to him back then. In the world inside his mind it become clear how deeply his feelings for her were.

In case your wondering, innig translates to “intimate” when doing a literal translation. The French says ephemeral, the German says intimate. You could say, “Well it doesn’t matter because it is in the past!” which brings me to the German translation of the highwind scene.

Scene: When Tifa is alone with Cloud on the night before the final battle and she doesn't know what she should tell him

For years Cloud and Tifa have fostered feelings for each other. Before the final battle against Sephiroth both can finally admit them.

The Japanese version:

  明かされた本当の願い 幼いころのクラウドは、同年代の者たちから孤立し、自分は特別だと思いこもうとする、ねくれた子どもだった。そんな彼にとって大切だったのがティファ——淡く幼い恋心が�� 精神世界にて明かされる。

Anonymous fan-translation:

“As a young child, Cloud was rebellious and isolated from those around his age, so he would try to convince himself that he was special. As such, Tifa was important to him. A childhood awakening of love is revealed in the mental world.

English version:

In his youth, Cloud strayed isolated from his peers. He was an eccentric child who always viewed himself as different from the rest. The only person he held close to his heart was Tifa. Their love is brought into the light when Tifa explores Cloud’s subconscious. 

Japanese Version: 

明かされた本当の願い 長年、互いに好意を抱いていたティファとクラウド。セフィロスとの最終決戦を目前にようやく、相手を求める気持ちを確かめ合えた。

Anonymous fan-translation:

For many years, Cloud and Tifa have been holding favor for one another. At last facing the impending final battle with Sephiroth, they confirm together their feelings of desire towards one another

English version:

Tifa and Cloud have cared for each other for many years. Only before the final battle with Sephiroth are the two finally able to realize the depths of each other’s feelings.

THE BEST PART IS NONE OF THIS MATTERS!

TL:DR; ALL CLAIMS BY THE SAME PERSON:

And this isn’t even the full post I was going to post. There’s plenty of hypocrisy regarding the Novella translations, but I feel that Nojima (the actual author) supporting the ENGLISH translation above all others pretty much shows which translation of the Japanese version the author supports. 

[royal-writer]

Irreplaceable

This was definitely supposed to be a mini wth why’d it get so long???

“What about Matilda?”

Essätha watched the contemplation shift over her Lord Amon’s face as he leaned into the sofa pillows. She loved the way his eyebrows furrowed; the creased lines of concentration in his expression as he thought deeply. It was a small thing among many that was so adorably irresistible about him. These little bodily quirks and tells; and the way his gaze went far off as he sank into another realm where everything around him seemed to fade off.

“It’s not my favorite,” he finally admitted. The circling motion of his pads continued to stroke against the back of her hand even as he pondered. She his anchor; and his touch a marvelous flame coaxing against her skin. Tingles raced after where he touched her so gently.

“Charlotte?” she prodded.

“I like that one. I’m not fond of the nicknames usually representative of Charlotte, though.”

“Like what? Carly?”

Amon’s expression shifted slowly, his eyes trailing back to her face. He wore a smile effortlessly as he gazed upon her through the dark pools of his regard. His fingers swept over her hand as he raised it gently, placing a kiss over the top of her knuckles.

“I often heard Charlie, actually.”

She stuck her tongue out slightly at the remark. Definitely not.

Her Lord sniggered at her distasteful expression, and lowered her hand back into his lap.

“Well we can’t just consider girl names,” Essie scolded, flipping her hand over to grasp his palm. “I know you’re adamant they’re a girl, but there is a possibility it’s a boy.”

It was impossible not to laugh at the snorted sound of disbelief that he gave now. She couldn’t tell if he was really so stubborn to believe himself incapable of being wrong, or if there was something unspoken in his certainty. He accepted her teasing with good-nature and understanding, but a small part of her couldn’t help wondering if perhaps his longing for a daughter was partly interweaved with the loss of the young Marie who he’d adopted as his own years ago.

After a deep brooded sigh, Amon finally relented with a grumble: “I do like the name Johnathan.”

She offered a playful little smile, cooing, “Not Amon?”

“Pelor no,” he chuckled, squeezing her hand.

“Mmm. Perhaps you are right,” Essie agreed. “The name is quite irreplaceable.”

He scoffed at her quietly. His free hand reaching up, framing the side of her face as he leaned in.

“Come here, you devious little flatterer.”

A wild grin of excitement flashed across her face. She held her breath with anticipation as she leaned forward. Eyes closed; listening rather than seeing. Feeling the faint billow of her husband’s breath fan over her as she shivered, and the way he hitched for air as he came short of her lips. The rasp of his beard against her; soft and well-groomed as he pressed a delicate kiss lightly to her mouth.

She shivered instinctively. A heavenly wreath surrounded him so close that smelled of all things that brought her home. Loving invitation curled in the ghost of a smile held to his face even as he held her steady and kissed her with such tenderness that everything else seemed to dissolve away.

Essätha exhaled slowly as he pulled away; aware of the shakiness in her lungs. Her eyes opened slowly to meet a gaze so familiar to her heart now that she adored with everything she had.

“You are cute,” he remarked with mirth, “but I am neither egotistical nor cruel. There is expectation enough, being born with noble blood. Being called the senior or second of a man’s name with a reputation such as I would be a cruel burden. Besides that, I like the challenge of picking out something special for our little one.”

Our little one. She could almost sob at those words. It was still such a new and fresh concept to her mind that it brought butterflies surging into her tummy. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to it. This was her life. Every day was a new day to love and appreciate; surrounded by people who cared about her, with friends and family on every side. An endless sense of support and devotion. A man who she loved and valued more than all life’s frill and gold; more than the air in her lungs or the beat of her heart.

They were sharing a life, together. And they had made life, together. There was nothing in the world she wanted more. She would exchange none of it, then or now, if it meant giving up an ounce of the endless happiness she had now.

“Johnathan’s nice,” she agreed, scooting across the sofa to lean further into her husband. “How do you feel about Rainier?”

“My honest opinion?” he inquired through a large grin.

“That bad?” She pouted, reaching up to guide her fingers through his mane of black hair.

“Atrocious.”

With a sharp inhale, she pulled away and wrinkled up her nose. The only link between them now was her fingers still wrapped between his, resting upon his leg.

“How callous of you.”

“You wanted honesty, my Lady.”

“Gandalf, then?”

“Sounds like a wizards name.”

“Willen?”

“He was a nice fellow, my darling Essätha, but it is a rather tasteless name.”

He was goading her. She could see it in the grin plastered on her face. A mocking taunt as her cheeks inflamed to glower at his amusement.

“Barnabus,” she countered proudly.

Amon gave pause, much to her pleasure. She leaned back further against the couch as the gears of his mind virtually seemed to turn before her.

“I think not,” he finally announced. “I do love the gesture, Essie, but it doesn’t roll off the tongue very well.”

They fell silent. Mulling in a mute void. Pondering names to themselves, where one would nearly open their mouth to a suggestion and a pointed finger before sinking back into their seat with a huff, the idea tossed aside. Filtering in the hush, and coming up blank.

Essätha hesitated. She clenched to Amon’s fingers, dragging his attention from the floor he’d been analyzing in a daze back up to her.

“… What about Fontane?”

The curious joy in his face collapsed faster than any catastrophe she’d ever seen in her life.

A taste of iron burned on her tongue. Whispers turned to roars in the back of her cascading thoughts. She could make little out from the wall he put up between them. She was shuttered out of her house; the window of his soul, quick as a jolt of lightning. A handsome mask stood between her, and her endearing husband.

Pain. Anger. Hurt. Repudiation. Vexation. More distress, and a quiet rage.

By the Gods, what had she done.

“M’lord-”

He released her hand, and a shard of ice plunged into her heart. She fell helplessly. Swallowed by darkness as she reached out for him, but even beside her he was already too far away to reach.

“No,” he bit out harshly; his voice thick as he began to rise up from the cushions.

“I will not name our child after that- that-”

He cast a glance her way, and she flinched. He was nearly unrecognizable.

With a curse in elvish muttered to himself, the Lord of Briarton turned away from her. His cloak whipped out; snapping in the air with finality. His boots were heavy on the floor. Each one a strike driving in the stake wedged between her ribs as she turned her head to watch his retreat for the door.

“M’lord, I’m sorry-”

She didn’t know if he heard the words, yanking the door open to step out.

It closed with ominous gentleness behind him.

Ashamed and drowning in guilt, she reached out for the pillow he’d been leaning against with trembling fingers. Placing it to her chest, she rested her chin against the plush fabric, trying to control the instability of her breathing as tears crowned the ends of her lashes. They wettened the top of the pillow as she buried her face within it, and the comforting smell of woody earthen cologne.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled; choking into the pillow which gave no response to her apology.

She should have known better. Not all wounds ever healed. Not all things could be forgiven. It had been a terrible, awful presumption to think that maybe, just maybe he could try remembering the man’s name in good light if it was placed upon someone he already loved. A way to honor someone gone too soon.

Curling around the pillow, Essie dropped onto her side, sinking into the upholstery.

All she could do, was hope he would be okay.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It would be supper soon. It was almost the same time, every day.

She saw Amon only once since earlier. Passing by the window, she spotted her beloved husband knelt down in the soil of the garden. He was ridding it of weeds in with more brutality than necessary. A grim line on his face; sweat and dirt speckling his brow. Though his eyes were too far away from the second story to read, she could imagine clearly the look upon them.

Seeing him like that brought back a strange wave of daje vu that made her stomach drop through the floor.

Not wanting to kindle the wrath of his sorrow, Essätha tasked herself with working on the crochet blanket she’d gathered supplies to make a few days ago. It was a mindless task, and so much easier than sewing up clothes or making a quilt. It held little rules or qualifications, and she’d had some practice working on place sitters to get the feel for it prior. She might not be the best artisan, but she was going to try her damndest to be the best mother she could be.

The pattern looped under and around with ease. Delicate pale colors woven together with the tug of each piece of yarn. She was thankful to keep her hands busy, and much of her mind. When she fell too absent of her work and began to wander back to the tension in the air as Amon had left, her careful work began to unravel and she was placed back into her focus once more.

It felt the opportune time to work on something new to her. She still had a lot of learning left to do, it seemed. A weight on her shoulders as much as her spirit.

The door to the sitting room creaked softly as she worked on the tapestry.

“I’ll be down shortly,” she uttered softly; her eyelids hanging low as she droned on the task.

Feet scuffled against the floor, and the door closed softly.

Her hands fumbled with the hook; feeling an unmistakable jolt in her heart.

Ignoring the painful twist in her gut, the Lady of the Emerald Expanse went back to her crocheting with quivering fingers. Her teeth clenched and released nervously and furiously on the blanket.

The thump of boots moved slowly through the room. The vibrations echoed into the soles of her shoes, and straight through her.

A large shadow moved past the sofa, quiet and slow. It approached the front of the coffee table, and leaned down slowly.

Essätha glanced up as the hourglass vase was sat upon the middle of the small stand before her. Sitting arranged in a tight bouquet within the vessel stood a mountain of flowers from the garden, all preened and picked at the peek of their bloom. Their scents wafted up to her nose; a mingling of sweet tones.

“I’m sorry.”

She lifted her head at the husky voice, sliding the folds of the blanket made so far off her lap and on the couch.

Her Amon’s eyes were downcast; shrouded in a cloud with eyebrows pulled low.

Slowly, he stepped around the table. She held her breath, wringing her hands as he came to sit beside her.

“You don’t-”

“No, I need to apologize,” he stated softly, reaching out for her hands. Her shaking stilled as he cupped them in his own. A firm grasp, but no less careful of her delicate features. His fingers caressed over the back of her hands as he brought them to his face, lacing kisses between her fingers and down her hands.

With a sad smile, she unfurled one of her fingers to stroke along the inside of his cheek.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” she disagreed. “I made a thoughtless suggestion without thinking of how it would affect you, or how you’d feel about it. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It wasn’t my place. If you’d had the idea, it would have been different. My love I’m so sorry, I never meant to cause you agony-”

“It’s okay,” Amon whispered softly against her hands; luminous eyes upon her. “I don’t hold it against you, Essie. I know that your intentions were in the right place. You don’t need to apologize.”

“You were only trying to mend and bring peace; to help people here and here no longer. I understand, because I know that is who you are. You care deeply about those around you. You want to build bridges, not tear them down. You were only trying to help.”

“But I do need to apologize. I should never have walked out on you as you did. It was a thoughtless action. I’m sorry if I worried you, my dear. I’m even more sorry if my brazen foolishness hurt you in anyway.”

Wearing the faintest smile, she continued to pet along the shape of his cheek as she murmured, “I would rather you take the space you needed in the moment, then say something difficult to take back later, my heart. I was worried; I am worried, but I understand that I pushed where I should not have. I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

Amon’s gaze dropped from hers, to their hands. His rough fingers sat wedged between hers; wriggling as though they could be any closer. The haze that lay upon his gaze still a lingering shadow of old wounds.

“You did not know Fontane as I did,” he stated. “I do not blame you for not understanding my reluctance and aversion to the name. The man; or ghost, you met was a mere short span in time compared to my years I lived with him. They are not memories I can simply forget, Essätha.”

“I am sorry I was so ill considerate of your feelings, and your past connections, m’lord,” she repeated, feeling the tug of remorse gnawing at her once more.

A waning smile grew on his face. “If it comforts you, you are forgiven my darling. Though know there is nothing to forgive.”

“I could say the very same,” she echoed, her smile growing by a fraction.

A deep hum resounded in Amon’s throat, and he released her hands. His body inclined towards her slowly as he reached out timidly for her.

She scooted closer, happy to sink into his warm embrace and strong arms once more. Breathing in the smell of sweat and woody notes on his skin. A blanket of light and warmth surrounding her once more, melting the aching shard of ice that felt like it had settled into her chest much of the day.

As rhythmic circles worked against her spine, a tender voice tickled close to her ear: “Let’s go share some dinner. I don’t want little Essie to get hungry, and start a fuss.”

Snorting with her giggles, Essätha gently swatted him upon the shoulder.

“We are not naming them Essätha.”

“You’re right,” he agreed; his voice almost proudly snotty as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck. “That name is irreplaceable. Angels do not share names, after all.”

“Shush your mouth,” she scolded, her eyelashes fluttering as Amon pulled her slowly into his lap to hold her to chest.

“What about Hepsiba?” he mouthed against her throat, a smile searing into her skin.

Snickering as the brush of her husband’s whiskers teased her torso, Essie reached up to cradle his head beneath her chin. She hummed softly into his hair, a sudden wave of emotions prickling tears to the edge of her vision.

“I love it.”

[freedom4theboys]

Burg Hauska / Hrad Houska 👹 With my beloved sons I visited this castle frequently every year..it's just around the corner and close to Doksy lake. There is the legend, that the devil is under this castle. Check Google for it... It's a magical place with lot of energy... My sons made wishes at the wish fountain... Thier one and only wish always was, being with me, with thier Papa. That they now are taken away against thier will and wishes to this far far strange place must be like a trauma for them. I fight for my sons - the future will be right. We all here fight for you....❤️❤️❤️ The pics are from 2019 - our last trip to this castle. Ich bin ein Vater, dem seine geliebten Söhne heimlich in einer Nacht- und Nebelaktion entzogen wurden und in die ferne, fremde USA verbracht wurden. Zwei Jungs, denen ihre Heimat und Familie hier von heute auf morgen grundlos "weggenommen" wurde und die jetzt gegen ihren Willen in einem fremden Land sein müssen. Mit meiner Familie, Freunden und Anwälten kämpfe ich für Gerechtigkeit und für die Rückkehr der beiden Jungs. Mit meinen Beiträgen versuche ich, den beiden eine Stimme zu geben, wo sonst geschwiegen wird. Ich versuche auch die tolle und von den beiden geliebte Heimat zu zeigen und natürlich die Erinnerung an sie zu erhalten. Wer uns unterstützen möchte, kann das gern über den Supportlink in meiner Bio tun. ❤️ . I'm the father of 2 sons which were taken against thier will in last October to the US. 2 kids, which lost thier family and friends here in Germany over night, which were taken away from thier father and which need be in a foreign country without all what they love. Together with my family and friends I fight for the return of them back home to a happy and save future. I publish this post to give my sons a voice and to made this case public and hold the remembering of great times. If you want support is, you can check the link in my bio or just write me a PM. . . #heimkehr2021 #rueckkehr2021 #cascademt #greatfallsmt #lassdiejungsfrei #heimat #liebe #bringtheboysback #brüder #hradhouska #devil #wish #czechrepublic #heimat #mystical #energyplace #custodybattle #trauma #proudfather (hier: Houska Castle) https://www.instagram.com/p/COFWd4EHbt1/?igshid=xw86y9yeqjq7

[the-record-newspaper]

Dr. Pinkerton honored at Love Light Tree Ceremony at hospital

Shown above are Doreen, Jerry, Randi Lynn and Joshua Pinkerton at Sunday evenings’ Love Light Tree ceremony at Wake Forest Baptist Health Wilkes Medical Center. Record photo by Ken Welborn.

From Staff Reports

Dr. Jerry “Joe” Pinkerton, Jr., was honored by the Wilkes Medical Center Auxiliary during the annual Love Light Tree ceremony held at Wake Forest Baptist Health Wilkes Medical Center on Sunday evening.

He was honored for his 27 years of service to the community and the hospital.

“Dr. Pinkerton is a kind and compassionate person who is so beloved by the staff and all his patients,” said Auxiliary Board member and past President Deborah Sullivan.

After being announced as this year’s honoree, Pinkerton complimented the hospital and all levels of the staff and employees there and the members of the hospital auxiliary. He said he was thankful for the hospital for allowing him to live his dream, which is practicing medicine in a small town.

During her introduction of Pinkerton, Sullivan said, “This year’s honoree has wanted to be a doctor since he was a little boy. He was a very good student and well spoken, but his handwriting was ‘messy.’ Even his teachers used to tell him that one day he would become a doctor.”

She added, “Our honoree received his bachelor’s degree in biology and psychology from California Baptist College in Riverside. He earned his medical degree Oral Roberts University School of Medicine in Tulsa, Oklahoma specializing in internal medicine and pediatrics. He completed his residency at Morristown Memorial Hospital in Morristown, New Jersey, where he also served as chief resident. It was during his at ORU that a lovely young nursing student from Long Island caught his eye.”

She was speaking of his wife, Doreen, a well-known local musician.

The Pinkertons moved here in 1993. “They decided to give Wilkes a look,” Sullivan said. “They liked what they saw and felt like it would be a wonderful place to raise their family. It would also help fulfill his dream of being a small-town doctor.”

In Wilkes, Dr. Pinkerton began working at The Department of Rural Health as a primary care provider for adult/pediatric medicine at West Wilkes Medical Center. He later joined with Dr. Joel Swofford at Medical Associates of Wilkes, which is now Novant Health.

In 2001, Dr. Pinkerton, who is know to most as “Dr. Joe,” decided to establish his own private practice in West Park. In 2011, his practice joined Wilkes Regional Medical Center Physicians Network. In January of 2015, Dr. Pinkerton became the Chief of Medicines for Wilkes Regional Medical Center and still served in that capacity.

When WRMC became part of Wake Forest Baptist Health, Dr. Pinkerton decided to become a full time hospitalist. The following January, he accepted the position of assistant director of hospital medicine at the hospital.

Dr. Pinkerton and his wife, Doreen, have four children: Dr. Derek Pinkerton, Elisa, an occupational therapist, Joshua, a seminary student, and Randi Lynn, an English major at Appalachian State University.

Sullivan closed with words written by Dr. Pinkerton’s daughter, Elisa: “My favorite memories  involve sitting outside patient rooms while he rounded on Saturday mornings, and riding in the passenger seat as we trekked through snowstorms to make home visits. He sings at the top of his lungs early in the morning, drives three hours to change your tire (or 20 hours to drop you off at a camp so you don’t have to ‘worry about turnpike traffic or toll booths),’ blows up glove balloons for kids all over the world, has song lyrics for every situation, and is unafraid to stand up for what and who he believes in. He taught us to love learning, listening and traveling, but most of all, he taught us to love others without pretense.”

After accepting the honor, Dr. Pinkerton lit the Love Light Tree atop the hospital.

Special music was provided by Grace Kingdom Choir, with Director Rodney Graham. The welcome was given by Deborah Sullivan, a past president and member of the hospital’s Auxiliary Board, who also dedicated the tree. The invocation and closing prayer was by Reba Graham of Wake Forest Baptist Health Wilkes Medical Center. Comments were by Susan Bachmeier, chief nursing officer.

The ceremony was followed by a reception.

The Love Light tree has around 20,000 lights, which are sold as a fundraiser for the WMC Auxiliary. One light is $5, lights for a husband and wife are $10, lights in the star are $25 each, and lights at the star points are $100 each. For more information about purchasing a light, call 336-651-8162.

Each year the auxiliary picks someone to honor during the event. But that’s a secret until the night of the ceremony.

Past recipients include: John Wesley Bryan, Jr.; Norma Stevenson Hubbard; Dr. William Lumsden Bundy; Ruth Long Graham, RN; Hugh Durant Stetler; DeLoris Porter; Alvin A. Sturdivant, Jr.; Fred J. Schilling, III; Russell G. Pearson; Louis M. Kinney and Annette Kinney; the hospital Maintenance Department; the hospital Dietary Department; Steve Critz; The David Henson Family; Dr. Jack Dawson; Dr. T.R. Bryan, Jr.; Mark Cullison; Sieglinde Duncan, RN; Dr. Duane H. Smith; Barbara Willens; Betty Shelton; Debbie Ferguson; Heather Murphy, Paul Hugger, Dr. John Bond, Arnold Lakey, Dr. John Bennett, the Surgical Nurses staff, Dr. Dariel L. Rathmell, WRMC CEO Gene Faile; Dr. Joe Fesperman and his wife, Sarah, John and Barbara Overby; Violet Francis, and Dr. Jon W. Thompson

In August of 1951, the Auxiliary of Wilkes General Hospital was organized. Their first duty was to escort more than 4,000 visitors through the new hospital.

The auxiliary has over 250 members and assists in buying needed equipment, hosts an annual tea for employees and doctors, and helps with landscaping areas around the hospital entrances. Auxiliary volunteers also assist in many departments such as the pharmacy, the admitting office, maintain a gift shop and the information desk in the main lobby.

Since 1958, the Auxiliary has honored Dr. Fred C. Hubbard by offering a scholarship to worthy students who are interested in entering the nursing field.

[stefselfslagh]

De Tien Waarheden van Malin-Sarah Gozin.

In De Tien Waarheden stel ik een interessante sterveling de vraag: “Wat zijn de tien dingen die je in de loop van je leven hebt geleerd en die je als waarheden durft te verkondigen?” Het resultaat: bruikbare levenswijsheden, niet zelden verpakt in snedige oneliners. (Foto’s: Karel Duerinckx)

Afgelopen zomer werd ze voor het eerst mama. En zondag gaat op Eén haar nieuwe fictiereeks - Tabula Rasa - in première. Het leven van scenariste Malin-Sarah Gozin (42) zit op kruissnelheid. Al garandeert dat nog geen innerlijke rust. "In mijn hoofd is het zelden stil."

Malin-Sarah Gozin doet geeuwend de deur voor me open. Ze heeft de voorbije nacht nauwelijks geslapen: haar vier maanden oude dochter Juno Rose is ziek en heeft tot 's ochtends vroeg gehuild en overgegeven.

Koffie moet ons redden en dus duikt ze de keuken in om twee Nespressobrouwsels van het sterkere type klaar te maken. Niet veel later hoor ik water op de keukenvloer kletsen. "Note to self: plaats in het vervolg een lege kop onder de koffietuit", zegt ze wanneer ze op zoek naar een dweil weer de woonkamer komt binnengelopen.

Tijdens ons gesprek zal ze voortdurend met Juno Rose in haar armen rond de tafel wandelen of haar al wiegend tegen zich aan drukken. "Zie mij hier nu doen: nog maar pas mama en al één groot multitasking-working-mom-cliché." Ze zou haar dochter een flesje willen geven, maar ze durft niet. "Voor we het weten, zitten we hier in een scène van The Exorcist", zegt ze. Voor wie de horrorfilm in kwestie niet kent, drie woorden: groen, slijm en projectielbraken.

Omdat ik nog niet eerder aan een tafel zat met vrouwen die Juno Rose en Malin-Sarah heten, informeer ik bij de oudste van de twee naar de betekenis van hun voornamen. Ik leer dat Rose naar grootmoeder Rosa verwijst, Juno de godin van de vruchtbaarheid is, Sarah refereert aan de vrouw van de bijbelse figuur Abraham en Malin ontleend is aan een personage van de Zweedse schrijfster Astrid Lindgren. "Mijn ouders hebben aan de Zweedse ambassade een attest moeten vragen om in het gemeentehuis te kunnen bewijzen dat de naam Malin wel degelijk bestaat. Tegenwoordig mag je je kind om het even welke naam geven - zelfs Juno Rose - maar toen nog niet." (lacht)

Malin-Sarah Gozin is in televisiekringen een begrip geworden. Als scenariste en showrunner (lees: creatief eindverantwoordelijke) van Clan en Connie & Clyde bewees ze dat je ook met eigengereide, donkerkomische fictie kijkcijfersucces kan hebben.

Tussen de première van haar eerste serie en die van haar derde liggen nauwelijks vijf jaar. En ze is niet meteen van plan om haar arbeidsethos bij te stellen. "Ik had verwacht dat ik na de geboorte van Juno Rose softer ging worden. Dat ik geen seconde van haar zijde ging willen wijken. Maar ik was nog geen week uit de kraamkliniek of ik zat al in de geluidsstudio om Tabula Rasa af te werken. Al was ik 's avonds wel superblij dat ik mijn dochter opnieuw kon knuffelen."

Wanneer Juno Rose na een tijdje soezerig haar ogen sluit, dient Malin-Sarah zichzelf nog wat extra cafeïne toe. We kruisen onze vingers en gaan fluisterend over tot de orde van de dag: het bespreken van tien onwankelbaar lijkende waarheden.

1. De Waarheid Liegt Altijd In Het Midden.

"'De waarheid liegt altijd in het midden' is een zin die ik in de mond legde van Rebekka Goethals, de jongste zus in Clan. Ik bedoel ermee dat de waarheid niet bestaat. En dus altijd een beetje liegt. Door welke ogen kijk je naar de wereld? Dát bepaalt wat jij als waar beschouwt. Iedereen heeft zijn eigen versie van de waarheid."

"Subjectiviteit is in mijn werk een terugkerend thema. In Clan wordt wat goed en kwaad is volledig bepaald door het subjectieve standpunt dat je inneemt: dat van de arrogante Jean-Claude of dat van de moordlustige zussen Goethals. En Tabula Rasa (waarin Veerle Baetens een jonge vrouw met amnesie speelt, red.) gaat over de subjectiviteit van ons geheugen: wat willen we ons wél herinneren en wat niét? Ons geheugen creëert voortdurend mythes: het censureert of vervormt gebeurtenissen om ons te helpen emotioneel te overleven."

Bestaan er behalve subjectieve ook objectieve waarheden? Dat de nazi's smeerlappen waren, bijvoorbeeld? "Zelfs als ik een verhaal zou schrijven over een nazi, zou ik op zoek gaan naar het goede in die mens. Misschien was hij wel een fantastische papa of een begenadigd muzikant. Ik hou ervan om de complexiteit in mensen bloot te leggen. Als ik naar een film of serie kijk, vind ik het geweldig om op een gegeven moment vast te stellen dat ik niet meer kan oordelen over een personage. Dat ik het niet langer in het vakje 'goed' of 'kwaad' kan onderbrengen. Zo gaat het in het echte leven namelijk ook: niemand is alleen maar zwart of wit."

"Als studenten mij om tips vragen, zeg ik altijd: 'Herschrijf een scène zoveel keer als er personages inzitten. Sluip van de ene huid in de andere en beleef dezelfde gebeurtenis telkens op een andere manier. Het zal je helpen om empathie te kweken. En word je er geen beter schrijver van, dan toch een beter mens.'"

2. The Owls Are Not What They Seem.

"'The owls are not what they seem' is een bekende oneliner uit Twin Peaks. De fans hebben jarenlang gedebatteerd over de preciese betekenis ervan. Ik denk dat ze er nog altijd niet helemaal uit zijn." (lacht)

"Voor mij betekent die zin: mensen doen zich anders voor dan ze zijn. Wat wij van onze soortgenoten zien, is vaak maar het topje van hun ijsberg. En ik heb geleerd dat het de moeite loont om ook onder het wateroppervlak te kijken. Als we allemaal wat nieuwsgieriger zouden zijn naar de diepere lagen van onze medemensen, zouden we hen niet zo snel in een hokje stoppen. En zouden we veel toleranter zijn."

"Ik zat op de trein ooit naast een vrouw die er heel gewoon uitzag. 'Een bankbediende', dacht ik bij mezelf. 'En anders de secretaresse van een verzekeringsmakelaar'. Bleek het een kunstenares te zijn die in haar atelier ongelooflijk gesofisticeerde protheses maakt van armen, vingers, benen en tenen. Zo zie je maar. Mensen zijn veel kleurrijker dan we denken."  

Hangt de Twin Peaks-quote in grote letters boven haar schrijftafel? Om haar eraan te herinneren dat ze haar personages meerdere psychologische lagen moet geven? "Daar heb ik geen reminder voor nodig, dat gebeurt vanzelf. Ik bedenk graag twisted plots. Niks leukers dan zorgvuldig een bepaalde realiteit creëren en er vervolgens een venijnige draai aan geven. Zodat de kijker alles wat hij gezien heeft meteen opnieuw wilt bekijken, maar dan mét de zopas gedane ontdekking in het achterhoofd."

3. Als koffiekan kan alles.

"Toen we nog klein waren, gingen mijn broer, mijn zus en ik vaak naar mijn vader met de vraag: 'Papa, kan dit? Papa, kan dat?'. Hij antwoordde dan altijd: 'Als koffiekan kan alles.' Een onnozele woordspeling, maar wel één die veel voor ons heeft betekend. Mijn vader leerde ons met dat zinnetje om niet te snel op te geven. Om onze dromen na te jagen. Het was zijn versie van 'the sky is the limit'."

"De uitspraak 'Als koffiekan kan alles' heeft ook onze creativiteit aangewakkerd. Sinterklaas had bij ons thuis niet de gewoonte om wat we hem vroegen zomaar voor de open haard te droppen. Barbiemeubels, bijvoorbeeld, kregen we niet. En dus maakten we ze maar zelf, met wasknijpers en lijm. Want als koffiekan kan alles."

"Ook een kerststal kochten wij niet. We haalden gewoon een grote zak klei in huis, gingen samen rond de tafel zitten en boetseerden zélf het kindje Jezus. (lacht) Ik ben mijn ouders dankbaar voor hun do it yourself-beleid. Ze hebben er onze vindingrijkheid mee aangescherpt. Als er in dit huis iets kapot gaat, vind ik altijd wel een manier om het te repareren."

Is de koffiekan-woordspeling ook een bron van schuldgevoelens? Want als alles kan en iets lukt je niet, ben jij degene die gefaald hebt. "Touché. (lacht) Als iets mislukt, heb ik inderdaad de neiging om mezelf dat te verwijten. Om te denken dat ik niet hard genoeg mijn best heb gedaan. Terwijl dat niet noodzakelijk zo hoeft te zijn. Zeker in de liefde heb je de realiteit niet altijd zelf in de hand. Koffiekan, maar liefde soms niét. Ook al doe je nog zo hard je best."

4. Ah my beloved, fill the cup that clears today of past regrets and future fears. (Edward Fitzgerald, Engels schrijver)

"In mijn hoofd is het altijd druk. Ofwel denk ik na over wat er gebeurd is, ofwel over wat er nog moet komen. Ik ben nogal prikkelgevoelig, mijn brein verkeert in een vrijwel permanente staat van overdrive. En dus moet ik mezelf soms een mentale rustpauze gunnen. Mijn hoofd bevrijden van past regrets and future fears, zoals Fitzgerald zo mooi schreef. Dat doe ik door in bad te gaan, aan yoga te doen of in de sauna te gaan zitten. Me op mijn lichaam concentreren helpt om mijn geest op stand by te zetten."

"De future fears waar Fitzgerald het over heeft, nemen bij mij steeds vaker de vorm aan van worst-case scenario-gedachten. Als mijn vriend een uur later dan voorzien nog altijd niet thuis is, denk ik niet: 'Zijn meeting zal uitgelopen zijn.' Nee, ik denk meteen: 'Hij heeft een dodelijk ongeval gehad.' En een nanoseconde later zie ik hem al in zijn doodskist liggen."

"Een tijdje geleden was ik op een prijsuitreiking van de tv- en filmindustrie. Tijdens de pauze trad er een kinderkoor op. Vraag me niet hoe het komt maar plots zag ik voor me hoe in die zaal een bom ontplofte en heel dat kinderkoor uit elkaar spatte. Dat beeld was er ineens. Zonder dat ik mij ertegen kon verzetten. Ik moet me daar toch eens voor laten behandelen. (lacht) Die worst-case scenario's zijn voor mijn job misschien wel interessant, maar ik vind ze behoorlijk beangstigend."

5. Creativiteit Bloeit In Eenzaamheid.

"Ik sluit mij regelmatig van alles en iedereen af om - zoals Nietzsche zegt - de windstilte van de ziel te ervaren. Ik zit heel graag alleen in de zetel in onze woonkamer. Dan zet ik wat muziek op, slenter ik een beetje op het internet rond, blader ik door kranten en tijdschriften of staar ik gewoon een tijdje doelloos voor me uit. Die momenten zijn belangrijk voor mij. Ik heb ze nodig om leeg te lopen. Het is op die momenten dat nieuwe ideeën ontstaan."

Een paar jaar geleden bezocht ze in Los Angeles de writer's room van Mark Cherry, de bedenker van Desperate Housewives. Ik vraag of ze daar iets geleerd heeft behalve dat de kans op goeie scenario's stijgt wanneer je zeventien scenaristen kan betalen. "Ik was in die periode mijn allereerste script aan het schrijven: het scenario voor Clan. En ik herinner mij dat ik het een hele opluchting vond om vast te stellen dat de writer's room van Mark Cherry vol post-its hing. Ik dacht: 'Yes! Zo ziet mijn appartement er ook uit.' Dat vond ik om één of andere reden geruststellend." (lacht)

 Ze wijst me op een belangrijk verschil tussen Amerikaanse en Vlaamse series. "In Vlaanderen draaien we alle afleveringen van een serie in één keer. Als je een plotgedreven verhaal verfilmt, is dat een groot voordeel: je weet op voorhand waar je naartoe moet werken. In Amerika zijn ze op het moment dat de eerste aflevering wordt uitgezonden nog volop aan het schrijven. Dat heeft ook zijn voordelen: als één van je personages niet aanslaat, kan je het in de volgende aflevering wat wegmoffelen. Maar de keerzijde van de medaille is dat Amerikaanse scenaristen niet op voorhand weten waar ze gaan eindigen. En dat zié je gewoon aan sommige series. De plot van Lost bijvoorbeeld ging nergens naartoe. Hadden de Lost-scenaristen van in het begin hun einde gekend, hadden ze hun verhaal wellicht veel beter kunnen vertellen."

6. Als Je Je Gezicht Naar De Zon Richt, Zullen De Schaduwen Achter Je Vallen.

"'Als je je gezicht naar de zon richt, zullen de schaduwen achter je vallen', is een spreekwoord van de Maori, de oorspronkelijke bewoners van Nieuw-Zeeland. Het betekent, vrij vertaald: negativiteit is bad energy. Het leven is zoveel makkelijker als je de dingen positief bekijkt."

Is voortdurend positief zijn na verloop van tijd ook niet ongezond? Je moet toch nog kunnen ventileren wat je niét goed of niét leuk vindt? Al was het maar om mentale constipatie te vermijden. "Ik pleit zeker niet voor een happy-happy-joy-joy-bestaan. Er zijn mensen die hun leven altijd in superlatieven vatten en dat heeft inderdaad iets krampachtigs, iets onechts. Maar dat neemt niet weg dat sommige mensen zo negatief zijn ingesteld dat ze je van al je energie beroven. Dat soort figuren mijd ik als de pest. Ik heb zelf ook een donkere kant. Maar ik probeer er andere mensen zo weinig mogelijk mee lastig te vallen."

"Wist je trouwens dat ook de Indianen mooie uitdrukkingen hadden? Als ze in een omgeving waren die hen bekend voorkwam, zeiden ze niet: 'Wij kennen deze omgeving'. Ze zeiden: 'Deze omgeving kent ons.' Dat is toch mooi? Daar zit poëzie in, een andere blik op de wereld. Nee? Cultuurbarbaar." (lacht)  

7. Het Beste Plan Is Géén Plan Hebben.

"Ik heb in mijn leven nog nooit concrete plannen gemaakt. Ik heb bijvoorbeeld nooit gezegd: ik wil scenariste worden. Maar ik ben wel Germaanse gaan studeren. Waardoor ik vier jaar lang werd ondergedompeld in de mooiste verhalen die ooit geschreven zijn. Achteraf kan je dat zien als een logisch opstapje naar mijn huidige job als scenariste. Maar op dat moment was het gewoon een keuze ingegeven door mijn buikgevoel. Door de vage drang die ik voelde om iets te maken, om iets te vertellen."

"Ik heb lang in de non-fictie-afdeling van de tv-industrie gewerkt. Als researcher, redacteur, eindredacteur en format developper. Die jobs combineerde ik met productionele taken. Zo deed ik bijvoorbeeld fieldproductie op de set van de reisprogramma's die ik bedacht had. Op een gegeven moment namen de productiejobs echter de overhand. Ik voelde dat ik mijn creatieve ei niet meer kwijt kon. Er iets moest veranderen, maar ik wist niet meteen hoe. Wel, uitgerekend in die periode ben ik tijdens een slapeloze nacht op het idee gekomen dat tot Clan geleid heeft. En maakte ik de overstap naar fictie. Met andere woorden: ook toen heeft mijn vage drang zich zonder plan vertaald in iets tastbaars. Fictieseries maken, was echt thuiskomen voor mij."

8. Als Je Iets Doet, Doe Het Met Zeal.

"Zeal is het Engelse woord voor ijver. Ik vind het een mooi woord omdat ik er het Nederlandse 'ziel' in herken, wat staat voor 'het persoonlijke, het intieme'. Je moet deze waarheid dus begrijpen als: wat je ook doet, leg er iets van jezelf in."

"Je voelt het meteen wanneer iemand iets van zichzelf in zijn job legt. Een ober die je met zeal bedient, geeft je een veel warmer gevoel dan een ober die op routine zijn shift draait."

"Ook de films en series die met zeal gemaakt zijn, haal je er zo uit. Van een film die zonder persoonlijke betrokkenheid - dus louter op basis van vakmanschap - gemaakt is, vraag je je een paar maanden later al af: heb ik die nu gezien of niet? Met een film die vanuit een persoonlijke drang is gemaakt, heb je dat niet: die kruipt gegarandeerd als een wormpje in je hart."

Wat als je ervan droomt om kunstenaar te worden, zeg ik, maar geen grammetje talent hebt? Is het in dat geval niet verstandiger om niét al te dicht bij jezelf te blijven? "Als je schilder wil worden terwijl je geen enkele aanleg hebt om te schilderen, betekent dat dat je jezelf niet kent. En als je niet weet wie je bent, kan je natuurlijk ook niet dicht bij jezelf blijven. Zelfkennis is het begin van alle wijsheid."

9. Als Je Niet Met Jezelf Kan Lachen, Laat Anderen Het Dan Doen.

"Bij ons thuis werd er vroeger regelmatig geplaagd en getreiterd. Ik heb dus al op jonge leeftijd geleerd om mezelf niet au serieux te nemen. Als ik iets onnozels doe, mag iedereen mij uitlachen. Ik ben ooit met mijn cowboybottekes - en met de elegantie van een jong nijlpaard - onderuit gegaan op de houten vloer van een chique Italiaans restaurant. In het bijzijn van Herbert Flack dan nog. Ik ben toen keihard met mezelf beginnen te lachen. Om vervolgens te maken dat ik op de wc zat." (lacht)

"Ik heb er geen enkel probleem mee dat mensen met elkaar lachen. Dat kan zelfs een daad van liefde zijn. Een milde manier om je medemens een spiegel voor te houden. En dat is soms nodig. Hoe ouder ik word, hoe meer ik merk dat volwassenen eigenlijk helemaal niet volwassen zijn: we gedragen ons vaak net als kinderen. Dat is niet erg - integendeel: laten we vooral nóóit volwassen worden - maar het is wel belangrijk om het te beseffen. Om onszelf niet belangrijker voor te doen dan we zijn."

10. The Proof Is In The Pudding.

"De volledige uitdrukking luidt eigenlijk: 'the proof of the pudding is in the eating'. Maar ik vind 'the proof is in the pudding' gewoon beter. Plastischer: je ziet de proof in de pudding zitten zoals een boon in een Driekoningentaart. (lacht) Maar beide zinnen betekenen natuurlijk precies hetzelfde: of je in iets slaagt of faalt, weet je pas als je het gedaan hebt."

Neemt haar beoordelingsvermogen ook na drie series nog geen shortcut? "Ik weet snel of ik zelf iets goed vind. Maar niet wat de rest van de wereld ervan gaat denken. Ik mix in mijn series graag verschillende genres. Dat maakt het moeilijk om op voorhand in te schatten of ze gaan aanslaan. Als mensen mij vragen of Tabula Rasa een succes gaat worden, moet ik eerlijkheidshalve antwoorden: 'Ik weet het niet. Ik weet alleen dat ik mijn best heb gedaan om een goeie pudding te maken.'"

Ze zegt dat ze nu al uitkijkt naar de dag waarop Tabula Rasa goed en wel gelanceerd is en ze - in het gezelschap van een leeg blad papier - opnieuw van nul kan beginnen. "Ik ben dan net een mes dat het eerste laagje van een onaangeroerde klomp boter mag wegschrapen. Heerlijk. (lacht) Al ga ik me deze keer niet onmiddellijk in iets nieuws storten. De voorbije jaren zijn nogal hectisch geweest. Ik ga eerst een beetje mentaal kuieren voor ik er weer invlieg."

Wanneer ik haar bedank voor haar waarheden, haar tijd en haar doorzettingsvermogen zegt ze: "Mijn dochter en ik hebben het er nog redelijk goed vanaf gebracht, vind je niet? Ik ben niet in slaap gevallen en heb mijn woorden meestal in de juiste volgorde uitgesproken. En Juno Rose heeft maar een paar keer gehuild en je niet één keer ondergekotst. Wat wil je nog meer?” (lacht)

[freedom4theboys]

My post from Christmas 2020:

Dieses Jahr wird es leider kein Weihnachten hier in der Heimat für meine beiden Söhne (8 und 9 Jahre) geben. Die beiden wurden gegen ihren Willen und ohne Ankündigung Ende Oktober heimlich in die USA verbracht und sind seitdem dort. Kontakt zu den beiden besteht nur sporadisch und unter willkürlichen „Vorgaben“ und Kontrolle. Die Kinder werden regelrecht von mir und ihrer Familie in Deutschland abgeschottet.

Die beiden sagten noch am Ende der Herbstferien, die wir gemeinsam verbrachten: „noch 12 mal schlafen und wir sind wieder bei Dir, Papa“ - auch hatten wir schon das gemeinsame Weihnachten geplant. Mein kleiner Sohn hat zB sogar noch ein Bild gemalt, wie er sich Weihnachten „bei Papa“ vorstellt. Alle, die uns kennen und erlebt haben, wissen, was wir für ein harmonisches Miteinander haben und wie wichtig wir uns gegenseitig sind. Für meine Söhne war es immer das Größte, wenn sie Zeit mit ihrem Papa verbringen durften. Die wenige gemeinsame Zeit nutzten und genossen wir stets in vollen Zügen.

Sie sind hier fest verwurzelt, hier ist ihre Heimat, hier ist ihre Familie, ihre kleine Schwester Avina-Tilda, Großeltern, Freunde, kurzum alles, was den beiden wichtig ist. Das alles haben meine Söhne von heute auf morgen über Nacht verloren.

Ich schöpfe natürlich alle juristischen Mittel aus, um die beiden wieder zurück in ihre geliebte Heimat zu holen, und die Sache auch richtig aufzuarbeiten.

Für den sehr kostenaufwendigen Rechtskampf und die Recherche habe ich einen MoneyPool eingerichtet, der Link ist hier unten.

Wer uns anderweitig irgendwie unterstützen will oder auch mit Infos zur Aufarbeitung des Falles beitragen kann, kann sich gerne melden. Helft bitte alle mit, damit die Jungs endlich wieder nach Hause kommen und glücklich sind.

Bedanken möchte ich mich bei allen, die uns bisher schon zur Seite standen.

https://paypal.me/pools/c/8vqyZ9EGfm

English :

Unfortunately, there will be no Christmas this year for my two sons (9 and 8 years old) here at home. The two were secretly brought to the United States against their will and without any notice at the end of October and have been there ever since. Contact with the two is only sporadic and subject to arbitrary “guidelines” and control. The children are literally isolated from me and their family in Germany.

At the end of the autumn vacation, which we spent together, the two said: "Sleeping 12 more times only and we'll be with you again, Papa" - we had also already planned our Christmas together. My youngest son even painted a picture of how he imagines Christmas “at Papa's”. Everyone who knows and has experienced us together knows what kind of harmonious coexistence we have and how important we are to each other. For my sons it was always the greatest when they were allowed to spend time with their papa. We always used and enjoyed the little time to the fullest that we had together.

They are firmly rooted here, here is their home, here is their family, their little sister Avina-Tilda, grandparents, friends - in short everything that is important to both of them. They lost all of that overnight, overnight!

Of course, I am using all legal means to bring the two back home to their beloved ones and to deal with the matter properly.

I have set up a MoneyPool for the very costly legal battle and research, the link is below.

Anyone who would like to support us in any other way or who can provide information on how to deal with the case is very welcome to get in touch. Please help, so that the boys can come home and be happy finally.

I would like to thank everyone who has stood by our side so far.

https://paypal.me/pools/c/8vqyZ9EGfm