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softsillytwsted · 4 years

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The Sleep of Blue Roses

I had this thought in my head of a what if story about an Ace betrayal and couldn’t stop myself from writing this until it was done. This is honestly not what I usually write because it’s kinda dark, but hey - it fits October doesn’t it?

Warnings: implied character death, implied domestic abuse, angst, the slow crawl of helplessness

Somewhere between now and back when you were still here, Deuce never understood limits. How can he? You were magicless, but you selflessly faced those impossibly stronger than you and succeeded. Deuce felt that nothing was out of reach when he was with you, with Ace, with Grim, Jack, Epel, Sebek...

When did things go wrong?

After weeks of strategizing a way to rescue Grim, who’s habit of eating everyone’s negative energy finally caused him to overblot, the gray monster was finally back to normal. Looking back, Deuce could only see how reckless and impossible the task was. They were up against a monster that had the combined magic and unique magic of the 7 strongest students from an academy of elites. The situation that promised death loomed over everyone, yet with you there, no one had any doubts they would fail. Not Riddle, not Leona, not Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, nor Malleus. And the impossible was made possible.

And you left this world thinking the impossible can be made possible.

“I arrived in Twisted Wonderland right after my mom contacted me,” you admitted shyly. “I haven’t talked to her since I was a kid because my dad always told me to stay away from her but... I really want to see her again.”

You were in front of the mirror, bags packed and your friends surrounding you. You can finally return back home and with a piece of the Dark Mirror in your hands you can communicate with them whenever you desired.

Deuce beamed at you, “It’ll go great, I know it will! My mother is always kind to me and she wanted what was best for me. I’m sure yours will be the same too!”

Ace hugged you before you left. “It’s seriously going to get so boring without you around. You better contact us or I’ll go over there and kick your ass.” Jokes aside, you and Deuce could tell by the glint in Ace’s eyes that he meant every word. You smiled at him then, because despite knowing each other for a year, the three of you shared an inseparable bond.

“I promise.”

You left them.

Days passed, then weeks, with no word from you. After one month, Ace angrily stormed into the Mirror Chamber and demanded to go see you.

“They do not exist.”

“Of course they don’t fucking exist, they’re in another world- now lead me to them!”

“They do not exist in this world or in any other world.”

“What the fuck do you mean by that!? They were here just a month ago!” Ace lunged at the mirror. His fists futilely pounded on its glassy surface before he tried to shake the mirror out of its placeholder. Deuce had to restrain the wildly thrashing Ace before the ginger stilled in his arms- lifeless. “Whatever, I’m over it.” He took a deep breath and walked away, ignoring Deuce’s and Grim’s cries after him.

If Deuce took better notice of the chill that followed Ace’s steps, maybe things would’ve been different. Instead, he visited the Mirror Chamber until a year passed and he too gave up- only visiting again on occasion, whereas Grim still stops by everyday.

Ace’s friendship with Deuce and Grim were strained at best. The ginger acted the same, but something was different. Like a cherished photo misplaced. Deuce didn’t question when Ace started hanging out with Kalim and Jamil more and Deuce and the other first years less. Nor did he stop to think about why Ace volunteered to do errands for Azul and Crowley. He even looked away when he saw Ace chatting it up with the two princes of the school.

They graduated like this without mentioning the name Y/n.

***

“AAH! Oh no are you alright?” Deuce yelled after you when you somersaulted from a heavy onslaught of his color-changing magic. “I’m so sorry!”

You could only giggle at your current state. Ace warned you not to get close to Deuce while he was changing the colors of the roses, but you assumed being behind Deuce would be safe. You were now paying for your mistakes. “Don’t worry about it Deuce,” you paused. The smile you flashed him revealed a weariness he couldn’t comprehend. “It was my fault too.”

***

Two years later, Deuce finally passed his test to become part of Rose Kingdom’s Elite Division. Right after orientation, he was pleasantly surprised by a visit from Ace who threw an arm over the bluenette’s shoulders and cheekily grinned at him like the two never grew apart. For a long moment, Deuce believed they never did as the two went to a bar to celebrate and catch up. Deuce breezed through all the sleepless nights he spent studying and training; Ace regaled his continuation of his internship.

“They loved me so much they made a new position to get me to stay!” he said. “And guess what? He said that if he becomes prime minister he’ll make me one of his advisors. Not too bad huh?”

Deuce couldn’t be happier for Ace. He always wondered what Ace, who blanched at the idea of the future, would do with his life. He admits, however, that politics was the furthest thing he would ever imagine his friend doing. “Being in the political scene can be dangerous I hear. Luckily I can assign my own bodyguards, including a certain elite policeman.”

This was news to Deuce. He was unaware of any political strife that would need the Elite Division, which specialized in magic-related crimes, to act as bodyguards... Maybe he needs to follow the news more closely. Regardless, Deuce grinned with all teeth and slammed his fist in his palm. “Just leave it to me, no way in hell I’ll let my buddy get hurt.”

“...Glad I can count on you... buddy.”

***

Deuce helped you up and tried to wipe off the paint on your uniform. You didn’t bother telling him that he was only smearing the paint into your clothes because of the look of concentration on his face telling you how hard he wanted to make this right. “Oh Deuce, you ended up painting the finished roses blue too.”

“What? Oh no...” he groaned at the extra work he’ll have to do. Will he be in time for the Unbirthday Party?

“Hey relax, I’ll help you out! We should be finished within an hour if we hurry,” you reassured him. He flashed you a grateful smile which you returned with a soft smile of your own.

***

The time between then and the election passed with a blink of an eye. Once his candidate won, Ace swaggered over to Deuce’s department with the confidence and authority that didn’t fit a 21 year-old advisor. It didn’t take long for Deuce to find himself a part of Ace’s security detail. It took an even shorter amount of time for Deuce to feel like he was slowly crawling into a waking nightmare.

Deuce tried to ignore it, tried to give Ace the benefit of the doubt, but he couldn’t excuse the things Ace did right in front of him. Dismissals of important emergency committees, deregulation of organizations with authority, increased spending on militarized weapons. The public blamed all these new policies on their new prime minister, but Deuce knew who the real mastermind was.

It didn’t take long for him to confront Ace - especially after he realized that the recent strings of overblot cases popping up across the country were a direct result of Ace’s policies.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Ace sneered. Deuce looked away; the gun in his hand hung lifelessly by his side. “You couldn’t even stop Y/n from leaving to die. You definitely won’t stop me from having my way with this country.”

“What?”

“Don’t give me that... You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Ace looked at Deuce like he was a bug beneath his shoe, but the quake in his eyes said otherwise. “You’re hereby dismissed from your post. If the next time I see you and you try to stop me, I’ll crush you.”

Ace walked away from Deuce- just like he did years ago.

“I’ve done too much to have you get in my way.”

***

Deuce felt so lucky to have met you, despite the rocky beginning. You never hesitated to help and encourage him. Sometimes, when his vague idea of an honor student wasn’t enough to guide him, he would look to you.

He wondered if you knew how much he wanted to repay you for being you.

He wondered if he can one day be someone you would be proud to know.

He wondered... what you thought of him.

***

The familiar halls of Night Raven College felt comforting - a temporary balm to the turmoil Deuce felt lately. He had hoped to see some of his old teachers and Crowley, but the school’s headmaster was tasked to find the Magic Mirror, the legendary mirror that the Beautiful Queen used once upon a time. No doubt, this was Ace’s doing.

When Deuce reached the Mirror Chamber, he was surprised to find Grim was nowhere to be found. Deuce ignored the churning in his stomach and thought to himself that maybe he was just early. After all these years, Grim never stopped believing that you would return to them. Crowley always spoke with pity in his voice about how the little monster would visit the Dark Mirror everyday- waiting, staring.

Deuce respectfully crouched in front of the mirror - like a mourner in front of a grave.

“Hello Y/n I’m sorry it’s been a while since my last visit,” Deuce began, he softly smiled while thinking of all the memories he had of you. “I was able to pass the qualifications to be part of the Elite Division. One of my first assignments was actually to guard Ace, can you believe that?”

He paused and tried to gulp down the lump in his throat. “Um… about Ace he… he’s made it big as a politician. He’s my friend and I was happy for him but… a part of me is scared. He’s not the same anymore after you left Y/n. Looking back, I can’t help but think how reckless and dumb we were to risk our lives against people we had no chance against. But we always made it through thanks to you.” Every single sentence, every single word came out in a rush. It was a confession to all the sins he committed letting Ace go. A realization that he could never be the man he wanted you to be proud of.

“You somehow make the impossible possible… I… I really need that right now...” He begged, “Please… I need...”

Deuce didn’t realize he was crying until the tears flowed down his cheeks and onto his clenched fists. He looked up at the Dark Mirror and activated it. “Oh Dark Mirror, show me Y/n.”

“...”

“They do not exist.”

***

“Hey Deuce,” you began as you picked up a blue rose. The two of you were almost done cleaning up the mess Deuce made and you decided now was the time to take a breather. Deuce slouched in the shade of the hedge, too tired to do anything but hum to show he was listening. “In my world, blue roses were never found naturally, so they symbolized the impossible. But after years of research, my world was able to grow one.”

You handed Deuce the rose, its petals shone brilliantly despite its withering edges. Deuce took it curiously and the two of you shared a sweet smile.

“They now symbolize miracles.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #Deuce Spade #Ace Trappola #Deuce Spade x reader #Ace Trappola x reader #twst fic #angst #character death #implied abuse #set in the future

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monomonomagines · 4 years

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October Prompt #17 Scarecrow with Mondo

To say that Mondo was a bit rough with things was an understatement. It normally wasn’t his intention to break stuff or anything and he wasn’t the type to constantly drop stuff or destroy it but you still had to admit that there were definitely times where he’s snapped things in half without even trying to. That all, being the main reason for why he was so shocked that you’d ever want a guy like him to help you with a scarecrow decorating contest.

Of course, that’s not to say that Mondo would let anything get in the way of helping you out even if it was self inflicted so to say. His strength could be his greatest asset at the same as his biggest weakest but that doesn’t mean that he couldn’t put it to use even for delicate work like decorating a scarecrow of all things. Hell, he’d do more than that even. He’d go all out if that’d make you happy!

It wasn’t a long ride for him to get there to meet you with him riding on his hog and all but he certainly did get a few odd looks from the other contestants upon his arrival. Of course, that was to be expected as most people don’t normally see the Ultimate Biker Gang leader or anyone dressed similarly show up to a run of the mill scarecrow decorating contest of all things. In fact, you were sure you caught sight of the judge’s sweating as soon as they saw his intimidating figure even if it was just when he was getting off of his bike.

Regardless, there was no way anyone could ask him to go home or disqualify him for something as simple as his mean looks so you didn’t have much to worry about even if there was a very prevalent air of awkwardness around you both or maybe you just understood that it was just better not to focus on that all.

Giving him a quick hug as he approaches your station for decorating, you were excited to tell him all about what you two were about to do.

“Mondo! I’m so glad you came! I got everything set up so let’s do our best to win this, ok!?”

Laughing at your excitement Mondo flashes you a smile and a thumbs up. “Hell yeah, S/o! We’re here to this fucking thing!”

Mondo wasn’t sure still if he was really cut out for these sort of activities but he could tell as soon as he showed any sort of excitement that it definitely made you happier than anything. You always wanted him to spend time with you it seemed no matter what you two did. He wasn’t going to lie that it made him feel good to have someone hold him in such a high light but he really did mean what he said. He wanted to win this thing with you and would do whatever he could to help you both get that first place trophy!

As soon as the two of you were back at your station and the judges gave the signal to start, you both were working hard on making that scarecrow look like the coolest one out there. That is, until when handling Mondo happened to snap some of its body in pieces.

“Shit! Fuck, I didn’t mean to!” Before he could stop himself from cursing Mondo was already in the process of thinking up ways to make this up to you. He knew he fucked this whole thing up and was ready for you to get mad but when he looked up he only saw you with a focused expression.

“S/o, it’s broken you really don’t have to try to fix it. Let’s just leave and we can go out to that one place you like. I’ll even pa-”

“That’s it!” You exclaim picking up a piece of the scarecrow from before. “If we can’t make a normal scarecrow work then let’s do something different! I can put this piece on the head and put straw on it to make it look like a pompadour!”

“S/o are you seriously gonna make it a fucking yankee scarecrow of all things?” Mondo gasps out, eyes wide from the shock of how you didn’t lose it when he broke the damn thing in half and instead thought to turn it into a strength for the two of you.

“I do! Do you still have that spare jacket of yours I asked you to bring?”

“Yeah…” He trails off, thinking on what you asked. “Did you know this would happen?”

Giving a little laugh and waving your hand in front of you as if to shoo away that accusation you deny his question. “Nah, I just wanted it in case I forgot mine y’know?”

Eyeing you suspiciously for a moment, Mondo shrugged your behaviour off going to his hog to retrieve the second jacket he had, walking back and throwing it to you as he watched you take things into your own hands. He couldn’t just let only you be the one to work on this things though.

“Hey, let’s use some of the bandages and stuff the people making the Mummy scarecrow thing over there are using and cover where he broke! It’ll make it look more authentic and shit that way too!”

Already at work trying to make the hair on the scarecrow you give a thumbs up signaling Mondo to come back quickly and start fixing this bad boy up. It definitely took a lot of finessing and brute force to make some of the pieces work but you both still thankfully got your Yankee scarecrow friend all fixed up in time to wow those judges and wow them it did. If those poor judges weren’t scared enough when Mondo just showed up you should’ve seen them when they noticed him breaking your entire scarecrow in half.

It didn’t take long for them to pass their final verdict, more out of fear than actually accurately judging the other’s craftsmanship but as soon as you two heard your names announced as the first place winners you still couldn’t believe it.

“Mondo, we won!” You exclaim, nearly jumping up and down as they hand you the small first place trophy depicting a tiny scarecrow.

“Fuck yeah we did! Bring it in, S/o!”

Pulling you into a big bear hug, Mondo shakes you around, absolutely beaming. He really thought he screwed things up when he broke your scarecrow but with your quick thinking he didn’t mess up at all. Man was he lucky to have you here with him and man was he going to show you and your awesome yankee scarecrow off as a result! Now all that was left was to ask one thing of you.

“Hey, S/o. I wanted to ask you something about that scarecrow and all. Could we...could we I dunno call it Daiya maybe? I just thought it sounded like a good name for him, Y’know?”

#danganronpa #danganronpa imagines #dr1 #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #mondo owada #mondo x reader #october prompts #mod toko #so I know I could've done something like Mondo fighting a scarecrow and all but like #I really really wanted to hint at him recovering more about the whole Daiya stuff and showing how S/o gets him to feel better about himself #I hope that came across and I hope you all liked this one!

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warau-okami · 4 years

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Why so many Japanese children refuse to go to school

By Alessia Cerantola BBC World Service

In Japan, more and more children are refusing to go to school, a phenomenon called "futoko". As the numbers keep rising, people are asking if it's a reflection of the school system, rather than a problem with the pupils themselves.

Ten-year-old Yuta Ito waited until the annual Golden Week holiday last spring to tell his parents how he was feeling - on a family day out he confessed that he no longer wanted to go to school.

For months he had been attending his primary school with great reluctance, often refusing to go at all. He was being bullied and kept fighting with his classmates.

His parents then had three choices: get Yuta to attend school counselling in the hope things would improve, home-school him, or send him to a free school. They chose the last option.

Now Yuta spends his school days doing whatever he wants - and he's much happier.

Yuta is one of Japan's many futoko, defined by Japan's education ministry as children who don't go to school for more than 30 days, for reasons unrelated to health or finances.

The term has been variously translated as absenteeism, truancy, school phobia or school refusal.

Attitudes to futoko have changed over the decades. Until 1992 school refusal - then called tokokyoshi, meaning resistance - was considered a type of mental illness. But in 1997 the terminology changed to the more neutral futoko, meaning non-attendance.

On 17 October, the government announced that absenteeism among elementary and junior high school students had hit a record high, with 164,528 children absent for 30 days or more during 2018, up from 144,031 in 2017.

The free school movement started in Japan in the 1980s, in response to the growing number of futoko. They're alternative schools that operate on principles of freedom and individuality.

They're an accepted alternative to compulsory education, along with home-schooling, but won't give children a recognised qualification.

The number of students attending free or alternative schools instead of regular schools has shot up over the years, from 7,424 in 1992 to 20,346 in 2017.

Dropping out of school can have long-term consequences, and there is a high risk that young people can withdraw from society entirely and shut themselves away in their rooms - a phenomenon known as hikikomori.

More worrying still is the number of pupils who take their own lives. In 2018, the number of school suicides was the highest in 30 years, with 332 cases.

In 2016 the rising number of student suicides led the Japanese government to pass a suicide prevention act with special recommendations for schools.

So why are so many children avoiding school in Japan?

Family circumstances, personal issues with friends, and bullying are among the main causes, according to a survey by the ministry of education.

In general, the dropouts reported that they didn't get along with other students, or sometimes with the teachers.

That was also the case for Tomoe Morihashi.

"I didn't feel comfortable with many people," says the 12-year-old. "School life was painful."

Tomoe suffered from selective mutism, which affected her whenever she was out in public.

"I couldn't speak outside my home or away from my family," she says.

And she found it hard to obey the rigid set of rules that govern Japanese schools.

"Tights must not be coloured, hair must not be dyed, the colour of hair elastics is fixed, and they must not be worn on the wrist," she says.

Many schools in Japan control every aspect of their pupils' appearance, forcing pupils to dye their brown hair black, or not allowing pupils to wear tights or coats, even in cold weather. In some cases they even decide on the colour of pupils' underwear.

Strict school rules were introduced in the 1970s and 1980s in response to violence and bullying. They relaxed in the 1990s but have become more severe recently.

These regulations are known as "black school rules", reflecting a popular term used to describe companies that exploit their workers.

Now Tomoe, like Yuta, attends Tamagawa Free School in Tokyo where students don't need to wear a uniform and are free to choose their own activities, according to a plan agreed between the school, parents and pupils. They are encouraged to follow their individual skills and interests.

There are rooms with computers for Japanese and maths classes and a library with books and mangas (Japanese comic books).

The atmosphere is very informal, like a big family. Students meet in common spaces to chat and play together.

"The purpose of this school is to develop people's social skills," says Takashi Yoshikawa, the head of the school.

Whether it's through exercising, playing games or studying, the important thing is to learn not to panic when they're in a large group.

The school recently moved to a larger space, and about 10 children attend every day.

Mr Yoshikawa opened his first free school in 2010, in a three-storey apartment in Tokyo's residential neighbourhood of Fuchu.

"I expected students over 15 years old, but actually those who came were only seven or eight years old," he says. "Most were silent with selective mutism, and at school they didn't do anything."

Mr Yoshikawa believes that communication problems are at the root of most students' school refusal.

His own journey into education was unusual. He quit his job as a "salary man" in a Japanese company in his early 40s, when he decided he wasn't interested in climbing the career ladder. His father was a doctor, and like him, he wanted to serve his community, so he became a social worker and foster father.

The experience opened his eyes to the problems children face. He realised how many students suffered because they were poor, or victims of domestic abuse, and how much this affected their performance at school.

Part of the challenge pupils face is the big class sizes, says Prof Ryo Uchida, an education expert at Nagoya University.

"In classrooms with about 40 students who have to spend a year together, many things can happen," he says.

Prof Uchida says comradeship is the key ingredient to surviving life in Japan because the population density is so high - if you don't get along and co-ordinate with others, you won't survive. This not only applies to schools, but also to public transport and other public spaces, all of which are overcrowded.

But for many students this need to conform is a problem. They don't feel comfortable in overcrowded classrooms where they have to do everything together with their classmates in a small space.

"Feeling uncomfortable in such a situation is normal," says Prof Uchida.

What's more, in Japan, children stay in the same class from year to year, so if problems occur, going to school can become painful.

"In that sense, the support provided for example by free schools is very meaningful," Prof Uchida says. "In free schools, they care less about the group and they tend to value the thoughts and feelings of each single student."

But although free schools are providing an alternative, the problems within the education system itself remain an issue. For Prof Uchida, not developing students' diversity is a violation of their human rights - and many agree.

Criticism of "black school rules" and the Japanese school environment is increasing nationwide. In a recent column the Tokyo Shimbun newspaper described them as a violation of human rights and an obstacle to student diversity.

In August, the campaign group "Black kosoku o nakuso! Project" [Let's get rid of black school rules!] submitted an online petition to the education ministry signed by more than 60,000 people, asking for an investigation into unreasonable school rules. Osaka Prefecture ordered all of its high schools to review their rules, with about 40% of schools making changes.

Prof Uchida says the education ministry now appears to accept absenteeism not as an anomaly, but a trend. He sees this as a tacit admission that futoko children are not the problem but that they are reacting to an education system that is failing to provide a welcoming environment.

#news #culture #japan #education #japanese educational system #free schools #bbc #black education

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themummersfolly · 4 years

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Ami du Roi - Ave, pt 1

@nuingiliath @skeleton-richard @ardenrosegarden @princess-of-france @shredsandpatches @harry-leroy @stripedroseandsketchpads

Well this wound up being a lot longer than I had anticipated. You guys are not going to like the ending.

-------

24 October, A.D. 1415

The words fell from his lips in soft, familiar cadence as he rolled each bead of the paternoster between his fingers:

Ave Maria, gratia plena

Dominus tecum.

He had said these prayers every day since childhood, seeking sometimes insight, sometimes solace in the rote words. Even now, they brought him some peace.

Benedicta tu in mulieribus

Et benedictus fructus ventris tui

Candlelight glowed on the gold beads: a New Year’s gift from his cousin, long, long ago in a happier time. As he reached the Amen, he bowed his head once more and whispered a final plea:

Pray for me, Marie.

She had been gone five years now, dead in childbed, giving him his youngest son. He still had not found it within himself to replace her, despite the turmoil, the need for alliances and heirs. If his cousin had been well, he would have urged him to remarry.

If his cousin had been well…

“Mon seigneur.” The tent flap moved and Thierry, his body servant, poked his face through. “Maréchal Boucicaut approaches.”

“Very good, I’ll receive him.” Charles D’Albret folded the paternoster carefully and returned it to its pouch.

If my cousin were well, none of this would be happening.

He stood and stretched – the damp chill brought out an ache in one leg that never really went away. Thierry held the tent flap as he ducked out, buckling on his sword as he went.

Jean Le Maingre, known to most as Boucicaut, stood outside, mud-spattered to the knee. He looked annoyed.

“My Lord Constable.”

“God keep you, good Marshal. How now?”

“The Duke d’Alençon keeps sending me runners.”

D’Albret willed his jaw to unclench. “I’m not moving him. There’s no more room in the vanguard.”

“He’s afraid that by the time his division is brought into play, he’ll have missed his share of the glory. He told me he’s not a carrion bird, to be tasked with picking off the dead.”

“Alençon is a valiant knight, but he can be a fool. I’d have sent him home by now if I thought I could.”

Boucicaut’s mouth tightened in a straight line: agreement. “At least Orleans seems content with his placement, now.”

“I’m keeping him by me on the morrow. This will be his first real battle; I don’t want him getting more ‘glory’ than he knows what to do with.” An image came to mind, unbidden: Louis d’Orleans lying on the cobblestones, his blood and brains mixing with the filth from the street. Young Charles looked so much like him, it was easy to picture him in his father’s place… D’Albret forced the vision down. “The king would never forgive me if something happened to him.” The Marshal nodded. “What else?”

“You’re going to have to have a word with my brother.”

“Geffroi? Again?”

“I caught him and some of his men heading toward the sieur de Graville’s contingent. You know he has a score to settle –”

“Mon Dieu, are the English not foes enough?”

“I’m sorry to make you deal with this. I’ve tried talking to him – you know he won’t listen to me.”

“Well, he’ll listen to me or he’ll sit this one out.”

“Fair enough.” Boucicaut glanced over the Constable’s shoulder. “Pity.”

“Hm?” D’Albret turned, following his gaze into the darkness beyond the pickets.

“The English. They don’t seem to be having so many problems with discipline. We could use an ounce or two of their mettle.”

“I suppose it’s easier to order a smaller host.” Christ, there weren’t even watchfires over there. He realized his hand was clenched on the hilt of his sword; he made himself relax his grip. “The last group of scouts came in half an hour ago. They said the English are still there.”

“Maybe they mean to slip away in the night.”

“We can only hope to be so lucky.”

Boucicaut rubbed his jaw. A scar ran just in front of one ear; a grim souvenir of the Battle of Nicopolis, it had cost him the feeling in the lower side of his face and frozen one corner of his mouth in a permanent, lopsided scowl. “Their Henri doesn’t seem the type.”

“He isn’t. But if enough of his army has the wisdom, morning may find him with just one or two hundreds. Then we can force a capitulation.”

Boucicaut opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment splattering footsteps sounded behind them. The two commanders turned to see a page stumble to a halt.

“My lords – Clignet de Brabant sends word – the comte de Vendôme is telling the crossbowmen to go home – he’s telling them they’re not needed on the morrow –”

“WHAT – Dieu des batailles, I told him earlier to stop.” Boucicaut ran a hand through his hair. “I’m going to kill him.”

“No, you’re not.” D’Albret pinched the bridge of his nose. “Go find the sieur de Rambures, round up the crossbowmen before they get too far, and tell them to stay put. I’ll deal with Vendôme., it’s part of my office.”

Through the camp, past cookfires and armorers and lines of fretful horses, to the tent with the arms of the duc de Bourbon…

“Ah, cousin, welcome!” The duke smiled. He had a cup of wine in his hand; from the glazed look in his eyes, it wasn’t his first.

“Bourbon, where is your brother?”

“My…”

“Louis, comte de Vendôme. Where is he?”

“Uhhh…”

“Go find him and tell him to stop interfering with my crossbowmen. He’s this close to losing his command.”

Bourbon gestured with his cup, spilling wine onto his sleeve, then spilled more trying to brush it off. “Now see here, my lord Constable, they’re not really –”

“JEAN. Go. Find. Him.”

Bourbon froze, D’Albret’s tone snapping him back to the nine-year-old boy caught poking his older cousin’s horse with a stick.

“Ah…em, yes. I’ll go see to it, then.”

D’Albret glared after him as he shuffled off, shouting for the nearest page. His hand strayed unconsciously to the pouch at his belt, fingering the golden beads again.

If the king were well, none of them would dare step out of line.

“My lord Constable?” He turned at the sound of the voice. “Is something wrong?”

Charles, duc d’Orleans stood at the entrance to his own tent, a faint crease between his eyes. D’Albret sighed internally. Yes, of course, everything’s wrong. We shouldn’t even be here, half the camp is as ready to kill each other as the English, and every lordling with a feather to stick in his cap thinks he needs to challenge my command!

“It’s being taken care of,” he said instead.

Orleans watched him for a moment. Young as he was, he was remarkably good at reading people.

“I heard it said that the men from St. Omer thought they’d missed the battle, when they arrived.” He was trying to be light-hearted. D’Albret felt his jaw tightening again.

“Likely they wished they had.”

“Surely it won’t be even a half-day’s work tomorrow, there are so few English. They’re as timid as mice, they know we have them surrounded.”

D’Albret felt as if someone had squeezed his heart. Despite the young man’s looks, he reminded him less of Louis and more of Charles the king, Orlean’s uncle and godfather. Bright-eyed and smiling in spite of nerves, long ago, just outside Roosebeke… “Don’t worry, cousin, think of the glory to be won!”

“That’s not timidity,” he said quietly. “Never mistake it.” Then more harshly: “And I thought you spent time in conversation with the dame de Pizan. She could have told you as well as any that you never fight a cornered army. Men who know they’re doomed will fight all the harder. I’d as lief have her here than all the Princes of the Blood. The woman’s got more sense in her little finger than the rest of us put together.” He began to stalk away.

“My lord, wait.”

D’Albret turned, wondering what new nonsense was about to be thrown at him. The duc stepped forward, so as not to have to shout.

“I… I wanted to apologize for what I said earlier, in the council. I was out of line. I should have shown more respect for your authority.”

“You’re the king’s nephew,” D’Albret replied. “Your authority is at least equal to mine.” Hardly absolution; that was the greatest source of their problems at the moment, and Orleans knew it.

“Nonetheless, I am grateful that you gave me a place in the vanguard. I won’t let you down, I swear it.”

“I may give you orders, orders that you don’t like. Orders that may sound like they’ll cost you some feat of arms.

“I’ll follow them. Whatever you say, I’ll do.”

That squeezing feeling was back in his heart. “There’s something I need you to understand. This isn’t a joust; men will die tomorrow, and not just the English. You’re putting yourself in more danger than you know, and if you falter, whether in body or spirit, you as good as kill the man beside you. I need you to understand how serious this is.”

Orleans blinked. “I understand.”

And truly, D’Albret mused, he thinks he does.

#Ami du Roi #agincourt #ave maria #charles d'albret #charles d'orleans #charles vi #marshal boucicaut #medieval history #medieval france #hundred years war #henry v

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tessimagines · 5 years

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After All This (Bill Weasley x Reader) - Part Five

Pairing: Bill Weasley x Moody!Reader

Summary: (Y/N) and Bill gain an unexpected visitor.

You can find the series masterlist in my bio!

Warnings: a tad of angst.

Wordcount: 2.7k

A/N: There will be a minipart that will come out sometime during the week (but definitely before next Saturday!) Hope you all enjoy :) This chapter isn’t the most plot-filled but the next full-length definitely will be!

October 23rd, 1997

The brisk air wafting in across the sea ruffled both yours and Bill’s hair, your hand wrapped snugly inside his. You walked together down the path leading to Shell Cottage, a comfortable silence between the two of you. The Order’s meeting had gotten to the both of you, it’s heavy nature causing a weariness to set in. Bill was visibly exhausted beside you, his face displaying a sense of tiredness yet also a look of pure concern.

Severus Snape had given the sword of Gryffindor over to the Lestrange’s. It was now in their filthy, death eater hands and sitting away in their century-old vault. Who knew of the numerous Dark Artefacts that it now sat alongside in there, ready to be given to Voldemort at a words muttering.

“I can’t believe that Ginny’s at Hogwarts while those Death Eater bastards are there,” Bill muttered, his words laced with concern. There was a glint of unease in his light blue eyes, one that caused the hairs on your skin to stick up on end. You reached up and placed your other hand in the indent of his elbow, drawing the two of you closer to one another.

“I’m worried about her too,” you said, watching as his eyes glanced over to you while walking. “But she does do a pretty good Bat-Bogey Hex, so she has that going for her.”

Bill gave a small laugh despite his worry for his little sister. Ginny wasn’t the only one you two were worried about, there were so many people that this war was putting in danger. Somewhere, Merlin knows where, three teenagers were on the run. Both you and Arthur were risking so much by simply going to work in the morning and Tonk’s little Baby was set to be born into a world controlled by a mob of terrorists, bringing violence and war to a world that was so quickly losing its strength to keep fighting on.

Shell Cottage was now just ahead of you, it’s swirling patterns of shells only now becoming visible. You and Bill continued to trudge along, though frazzled and drained. Both of you were dreaming of the moment when you’re heads would finally hit the pillows so cozily resting on your mattress.

“Hey, Bill?” You said, you’re eyes fixed on the glowing windows of your suppose-to-be empty house. Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion, your grip on Bill’s arm tightening.

“Yeah?” He said, dazedly.

“The lights are on in the cottage.” Bill’s eyes followed your gaze to the small windows on either side of the door, finding that sure enough, both were glowing with the luminous lights from inside. Bill’s steps became cautionary as the both of you continued to make your way closer to the cottage. Bill was becoming more protective with every step, trying to move his body in front of your own.

You pulled out your wand and felt your grip tighten on it, the familiar grooves of the wood feeling natural in your hands. It had been your mother’s old wand once, gifted to you on your eleventh birthday by your father. It had been a handy companion throughout your life and a constant reminder that in some sort of way your mother was still here, helping you to fight whatever battles you came across.

You moved to stand in front of Bill, your feet treading silently and carefully on the cobblestone path leading to the doorway. Your eyes were pricked to pick up the tiniest of sounds, years of Auror training and work showing in your precise and skilled movements.

“(Y/N), get behind me,” Bill said, his own wand in his hand. His face had turned from a dazed tiredness to total awareness at the situation. You waved him off and continued forwards, your wand outstretched in your hand.

“Now is not the time for chivalry, Bill.” You quietly turned the doorknob to your shared house, doing your best to make sure that your action emitted no sound. As soon as you felt that it had turned as far as it could, you pushed it open, your eyes immediately falling on a tall, lanky figure standing in the middle of the room. Your wand was pointed directly at him when you noticed that he looked way too similar to the man now standing directly behind you to be a real threat.

“What the hell are you doing, Ron?” Bill shouted, dropping wand to his side. You felt yourself sigh at the stunned look on Ron Weasley’s face as he looked at the pair of you with wands in your hands.

“Merlin! You frightened us, you bloody idiot.” You muttered, following after Bill as he rushed forward and wrapped his arms around his stunned younger brother. As soon as Bill let go, you did the same, giving Ron a tight embrace.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, his gaze flickering between you and Bill and finally to the wand that still sat in your hand. You hadn’t realised that you had still been holding it and tucked it quickly away in the pocket of your green jacket. “I just didn’t know what to do because no one was home.”

“Where’s Harry and Hermione?” Bill asked, his gaze flickering around the room. There was no noise coming from up the stairs, and even if they had been up there, you assumed they would have heard you and Bill and come down by now.

“We should probably talk,” Ron muttered. He could barely meet either of your eyes, flickering them away whenever he came close. His hands had begun to fiddle with his jacket, clenching the creased and grubby material. It looked as though it hadn’t been washed in weeks.

“Alright,” you said, looking at him with maternal concern in your eyes. He was so young when you had met him that you had always seemed like an older, caring sister to him. “How about we get you some clean clothes and run you a shower and then we can talk?”

“That sounds good,” Ron said, picking up a dirty old backpack that had been leaning against your couch. You placed a hand on his back and felt him flinch at your touch. Withdrawing and confused, you lead him up the stairs and into the small bathroom between two of the spare bedrooms you had. Leaving him to run the water, you went to go find some of Bill’s clothes for him to wear once he was done, a clean towel in tow before you headed back down the stairs.

Flicking the kettle on, you wondered what had caused the distress to come over Ron. You felt a pull at your heart at the mysterious whereabouts of his two best friends and uneasiness begin to bubble away inside of you.

And with a look in Bill’s direction, you knew that he was feeling the same.

You stirred Ron’s tea with the silver teaspoon, watching the pale, milky liquid twirl around with its movement. Ron was staring at it as though it was the first drink he had seen in ten years, the steam coming out of it and rising deliciously to his nose. He was practically leaning over the mug, waiting on edge until you took the teaspoon out of the tea. As soon as it was out, the mug was in Ron’s hand, his arms rushing up to lift it to his lips. The hot liquid burned his mouth as it touched it, Ron’s face scrunching up and flinching away from the mug as the scalded sensation hit him.

“You right there, Ron?” Bill asked, a look of humorous confusion etched onto his face. “Tea is hot, remember?”

Ron didn’t say anything and instead put the tea down in front of him. He had hardly spoken a word since he had arrived and he couldn’t seem to erase the regretful look from his features.

“Are you hungry?” you asked, trying to make eye contact with him again. His head shot up at the idea of food and he quickly began to nod, as if the simple possibility of food was the best thing to ever happen to him. “Alright, just sit tight. I’ll heat you up some leftovers.”

You walked over to the fridge, pulling out a container of last night’s tomato pasta. Heating it up on the stove, you flinched at the silence that was quickly becoming thicker and thicker in the air. Bill just sat across from Ron, his expression turning more concerned with every minute that Ron didn’t speak.

Putting down a bowl of pasta in front of Ron, you quickly sat down in your place next to Bill. Ron was shovelling the food down, mouthful after mouthful. You assumed it was the first proper meal that the kid had eaten in ages and watched as he cleaned the bowl out in three minutes flat.

“That was beautiful, (Y/N),” Ron said, his face a tiny bit happier at the food now in his belly. He looked between the two of you sitting across from him.

“I suppose you want me to tell you why I’m here, then,” he started, noticeably sinking further back into his chair as he said so.

“Well, I think we’re both a bit confused at that,” Bill said, his eyes stuck on Ron’s ashamed looking face. “Or where Harry and Hermione are or even at what in Merlin’s name you’ve been doing these past few months.”

“It’s a long story,” Ron muttered.

“Well, we have all night,” Bill spoke. His words were followed by a moment of silence from Ron. He collected his thoughts, trying to think of what exactly he was going to say to Bill’s questions before he opened his mouth to speak again.

“Look, I can’t tell you exactly what we’ve been doing but I can tell you that we’ve been doing something for Dumbledore.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, squinting your eyes in confusion. “Dumbledore’s dead.”

“He left something for us to do. Something hard. And it’s been taking its toll on all of us. Especially on… on….”

“On who?” Bill asked, his blue eyes looked at his brother’s similar coloured ones. Both of them looked so alike yet wore very different expressions on their faces. Ron looked as though he wanted to sink back into the chair and become invisible. On the other hand, Bill had a look of worry on every single one of his features. He was pressing Ron for the answers, worried that something terrible had happened and Ron was hesitant to tell them.

“On me!” Ron said, his voice rising into a frustrated shout. “I left them there. I left them in the middle of a forest because I just couldn’t take the two of them anymore! They just couldn’t see it! The can’t see just how hopeless that stupid task is!”

Ron’s face was a bright, fearful red. His breaths were coming out in heaves, the look on his face one of gushing fury. It didn’t stay like that for long though, as his own words began to sink in and the rational side of his brain started to tick. His face lost it’s colour, becoming a pale and empty canvas. He leaned forward, placing his head in his hands, covering his face from the stares coming from yours and Bill’s direction.

“Oh, Merlin, Bill, what the hell have I done? I left them there! They needed me. They needed all the help that they could get and I just left!”

Ron’s voice was becoming raspier with every word that he spoke. Bill didn’t speak another word as he looked across at his younger brother so ashamed of himself. Ron’s eyes were wet with the tears he was trying so hard to hold back. The regret of his actions was so obvious to you and Bill, it seemed to mask the disappointment you should have felt in him.

You reached across and grabbed his hand over the table, watching as his head lifted at the touch. He didn’t smile or speak as he looked between his brother and you, anguish so clearly etched on his face. “You can stay here.” You said, giving him a reassuring smile. “Until you sort out what you’re going to do next. You know you’ll always have a place to sleep here.”

Ron only nodded and then forced his eyes to look up at his brother, Bill giving him a firm nod. You could tell that Bill was disappointed in his brother but that he also felt sympathetic for the guilt he knew that Ron was feeling. Bill got up out of his seat and walked around the table. He motioned for his brother to stand and gave him a hard embrace, a reassuring pat on the back as he did so. Ron’s eyes were still wet and his face was still a ghostly white. Then he jumped as though a thought had just startled him.

“Oh!” Ron said, his voice thin and weak. “I almost forgot.”

He quickly stood up out of his seat and made his way around the table until he reached his filthy backpack leaning against your couch. He reached inside and pulled out a small object, it’s mass completely contained in the palm of his hand. His eyes flashed to yours again, holding out his hand for you to grab the object.

You felt your fingers graze a smooth, glassy surface and picked it up in a single swift move. You let it sit in your own palm as you brought it closer to yourself to get a proper look.

Sitting inside your palm was your father’s old electric-blue glass eye. It seemed so small in your hand compared to when your father had worn it strapped to his face. It was so delicate in your fingers, a single drop would send it falling to the ground and bring it to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. It was a piece of him. A piece of the father you had lost.

“Where…” your voice faltered as the words came out. “Where did you get this?”

“When we broke into the Ministry. It was on Umbridge’s door. She was using it as a security thing, I think. Harry took it and I somehow ended up with it when I… you know.” Ron was looking at the little glass eye in your hand, unable to meet your gaze as he dwelled on his last action towards his best friends.

“I thought you might want it,” Ron finished, picking his bag up off the floor.

“Thank you.” Your eyes wet with unshed tears and your voice was quiet and raspy, a thick and uncomfortable lump forming in your throat.

Ron nodded and left, carrying his bag behind him as he made his way up the stairs. Bill came around to stand next to you, his gaze peering down at the little glass ball in your hand.

“Thanks for letting him say.” He placed a kiss to your forehead and let you lean into his body. Putting a hand over the glass eye, he closed your fingers over it and brought your face to look up at his.

“Why don’t you put it up on the mantelpiece next to the photo of him with his family? I think that’s where he thought the best place would have been for it.”

You nodded at him, walking over to place the glass eye down next to the photo of a newborn baby in your father’s arms – no indication of scars or glass eyes on his face. Your mother stood beside him as she smiled down at you and then up to him, amazement and esteem clear in her gaze.

“Let’s go to bed,” Bill said, taking your hand and turning you to face him. “It’s late.”

You let a faint smile come across your lips, leaning forward and placing a kiss to Bill’s scarred cheek. His face turned a soft pink at the affection. It was an area that made him shy away when he caught it in the mirror, yet he kept his strong gaze on your face. You turned to follow him up the stairs and into bed, your father’s glass eye now in its place watching over the peaceful home that was Shell Cottage.

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bramblepatch · 4 years

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(October 2019′s featured character’s short story, crossposted from my Patreon. Thank you to all my patrons for their generous support! If you’d like to join them, for a few dollars per month you can vote on which characters you’d like to see me develop, and get early access to stories like this!)

The rain had stopped a little before sunset. The sky was clear enough, now, for the last streaks of color to catch in the last shreds of cloud, and in the cool autumn dusk the standing puddles and wet pavement caught hints of orange and pink. Before long, they’d be reflecting the yellow glow of street lamps instead, and the sometime flash of white headlights.

It was lovely. Sunset had a tendency toward loveliness in this neighborhood, in the past few years. Maybe it was just confirmation bias, that a certain teenager noticed how things fell neatly into place to provide a picturesque backdrop on evenings where the nagging awareness that there was a monster somewhere out there prompted them to sneak out. There was no proven link between ambient meteorological anomalies and an active case of Transformative Adolescent Empowerment Syndrome, but Blair was pretty sure this was their doing anyway.

On the other hand, no one else ever seemed to make the connection – practically no one; Blair had brought it up once with some of the TAES veterans in the area, and gotten a sure, that could be happening. Just as well, really. Blair had absolutely no desire to make their case to their aunt as to why they ought to be allowed to go monster-fighting on a school night when with a little luck and a little finesse they could sneak out and slip back in before she noticed they were gone, so the less of a tip-off that Aunt Lizbet had that tonight was a Sunset Knight kind of night, the happier Blair was.

In point of fact, the stocky teenager almost made it out of the building without anyone catching them. Once they’d managed to slip out of their own apartment unnoticed, the hallways of the apartment complex were quiet. The back stairwell should have been even quieter, but as Blair descended to the first-floor landing, the door to the hallway eased open to let a dark-haired kid, already dressed in a practical and slightly sparkly magical girl costume and carrying an armful of raccoon, through.

There was a long beat of shared acute awareness of their delinquency, before Esther spoke up. “So. Team up?”

Blair sighed, and continued past the younger teen toward the ground floor and the exit, although they answered as they went. “Don’t you have a team already?”

“Yeah, uh, Hoshi sprained her ankle in gym class,” Esther replied, and before she could continue, from her arms, Sparkle added brightly, “And Magic Medic Star✧Balm is visiting his grandsire in the far-off land of Canada!”

Blair paused, and looked over their shoulder. “How in the heck did she just make that star sound with her mouth.”

“She’s a raccoon, how does she make any of the sounds with her mouth?” Esther pointed out. Blair considered for a moment, and shrugged; like suspiciously appropriate weather and symbolic costume changes, the exact nature of animal companions was probably without rational explanation. Esther certainly didn’t seem to be waiting for an answer. “Anyway yeah Sterling’s out of town until next week.”

As much as they’d have liked to, Blair couldn’t find fault in that reasoning. Nor could they really justify keeping Esther away from a monster that clearly they’d both sensed the presence of, although they made one more token objection as they reached the back door. “Aren’t you a little young for the whole magical girl thing anyway?”

Esther huffed indignantly. “I mean, a monster crashed my bat mitzvah and I had to fight it, I think that counts for something.”

Blair was pretty sure that did not in fact count for anything, but also they were way too lapsed Methodist to feel comfortable arguing the point. “Whatever. Just don’t get yourself hurt, I don’t have any healing abilities,” they said, holding the door open for her. “Give me a moment, I need to suit up.”

When their transformation sequence had first shifted, Blair had been surprised how simple the new Sunset Knight transformation was. Princess Sunset had been elaborate and overwrought, a multitude of tiny details and dramatic poses; Sunset Knight’s sequence was barely three seconds long, flannel fading into mail, and then armor and sword glowing into existence. A moment later, Blair was on their feet again, grinning with the brief wash of euphoria that the magic always brought with it.

“Dang, you’ve got a cape now,” Magic Fighter Star✧Strike breathed. “That is so cool.”

“Not bad, huh?” Sunset Knight agreed, propping their sword against their shoulder. The cape in question fluttered in the light evening breeze, as the colors of the sunset sky glinted off the wet pavement. “Let’s go kick some monster butt.”

The monster, it turned out, was perched on top of a bus shelter two blocks away.

“Do they usually… hybridize like that?” Blair wondered, studying the monster from a safe distance. The serpentine, winged form was definitely typical of one of their own common adversaries – but the glowing, shifting galaxy patterns across its scales marked it as one of the space-themed monsters that the Star Squad encountered frequently.

“I don’t know, you’ve been doing this longer than me!” Esther hissed back. “I usually don’t team up outside my team, unless you count Nova! And she doesn’t magic anymore!”

“Ok, ok,” Blair said. “I guess it’s still a dragon. If it’s like mine, magic weapons should do fine against it.”

“Right. Yeah. Magic.”

“Esther, that hammer you’re carrying is part of your magical girl thing, right?”

“Uhhh...” Esther didn’t deny it, exactly, but she took long enough not denying it that Blair kind of figured that was their answer.

“Esther!”

“Not everyone has a special magic weapon as part of their transformation, ok?” she demanded, and Sparkle added, “The hammer’s full of truth! And realness!”

“That’s not anything, I don’t think,” Blair said.

“Yeah, no, probably not,” Esther agreed reluctantly. “I mean, it is a couple of pounds of solid steel on a wooden handle. It’s still pretty good for hitting things with.”

Blair did some rapid mental arithmetic of dragon versus totally unmagical blunt instrument and also of their own willingness to face the irritation and disappointment of Esther’s mentor if literally anything went wrong. “Ok, look, I know you’re the tank of your little team, but you are not getting in close quarters with that thing,” they hissed.

“Blair!” Esther objected, managing to draw the name out to the same cadence as Sparkle whined, “Sunset Knight!”

“Seriously. You can be like, the distraction or something,” Blair insisted. “But I know my sword’s gonna take that thing out, and I have no idea if some hammer you found somewhere will have any real effect. So be the bait or go home.”

Esther pouted. Down the street, the dragon stretched its wings, dark against the fading sunset. Blair gave their temporary teammate a stern look.

“Ok. Fine. Meanie,” Esther conceded. “I get to yell at it, though, right?”

“...yes. You get to yell at it,” Blair agreed.

They had kind of assumed that there would be more strategizing involved, and was a little taken aback when the thirteen-year-old just took off toward the monster, trailing a scattering of starlight as she picked up speed. Blair sighed, and hurried to keep up, glad that whatever magical stuff their costume was made of, it didn’t restrict their breathing the way their mundane binder did.

Esther kept to her word, though, stopping at the curb on the opposite corner to wave her arms and start shouting at the dragon. Blair was thankful that the streets were almost eerily quiet, although they were pretty sure that they saw movement at some of the windows in nearby buildings. So much for no one noticing that they were out superheroing this evening; Blair didn’t expect anyone to interfere, especially if they wrapped this up quickly, but there was a good chance that word would get back to their aunt, and fast. They weren’t sure how public Esther was with her magical girl identity, but they’d been less that subtle with their alter ego.

The dragon spread its wings and took off, in a motion that only mostly seemed consistent with its apparent mass. Esther turned on her heel and started running away, with the raccoon weaving around her ankles in a way that made Blair wonder how she didn’t trip. Not that they wondered long; with a dragon to fight, they put the question quickly out of their mind. They planted their feet and raised their sword, staring down the rapidly approaching starry monster. As they’d suspected, the creature seemed entirely focused on its quarry; if its galaxy theme was any indication, it was as attuned to Esther as it was to them, and their monsters tended to be fairly single-minded. For a moment, they were afraid that the creature wouldn’t be within stabbing range – but even forbidden to actually engage, Esther had good instincts for drawing a monster where she wanted it, and she ducked behind Blair, placing them firmly between her and the dragon.

Just as they liked it.

“At thee, foul beast,” they growled through gritted teeth, the words drawn out by the same instincts that guided their actions while transforming, and as the dragon swooped down, Blair drove their blade through the creature’s chest.

The starry patterns across the dragon’s hide flared brighter for a brief moment, and then it seemed to dissolve in a rush of wind that ruffled Blair’s hair and set their cape flapping behind them.

A moment later, there was nothing left of the monster but a faint coating of shimmering stardust across Blair’s sword, and a brief clattering rain of something onto the sidewalk at their feet. Esther hurried to gather up the fallen items as Blair wiped off the sword on the lining of their cape.

“Here, you take some!” she said, holding out a couple of what appeared to be claws.

“What are they?” Blair asked, a little suspiciously; usually, their monsters didn’t drop loot.

“Meteorites!” Esther explained, and sure enough, when Blair accepted the claws, they certainly seemed to be made of dark, pitted iron – although the tips were more than sharp enough to make them glad that the dragon hadn’t gotten in clawing range of either of them. “Our monsters keep leaving them behind. We haven’t figured out if they’re for anything, yet, but they’re cool.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Blair agreed, as Esther put the rest of the fallen claws into her pockets; Blair’s own costume didn’t have pockets, which suddenly felt like a pretty significant oversight, so they just palmed the ones they’d been given. “Thanks.”

“Soooo… team up again some time?” Esther asked.

Blair sighed, casting their eyes up at the fading sunset colors. Nova was going to tear them a new one for taking the kid along to fight a dragon, they were sure, and usually they fought alone. But it had been kind of fun working as a team. “Maybe. I guess. If you bring the other Stars, no more of this ‘two melee fighters and no support’ nonsense.”

#magical kids #magical girl #short fiction #original fic #fanTAEStic #Blair Faulkner #Esther Sternberg

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the-magnus-archives-archiver · 5 years

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Vampire Killer

Case: 0100710

Name: Trevor Herber Subject: His life as a self-proclaimed vampire hunter Date: July 10th, 2010 Recorded by: Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London

Right then. Been almost 50 years I’ve been meaning to pay you people a visit and get this down on paper, but I finally got here. So where to start? My name is Trevor Herbert, like I put at the top of your form there, and I’ve been homeless for most of my life. In fact if you lived in Manchester there’s a good chance you’d have heard of me. They call me “Trevor the Tramp”. I mean, I’m not exactly easy to miss am I, and I’ve been living there in public view for so long I guess I’ve become kind of an institution. Helps that I’ve always had a kind of uncanny knack for guessing people’s ages. People will come up to me on the street and ask me to guess their age, and I’ll tell them and most of the time they’ll be shocked when I get it right. It’s fun. So everyone around Manchester knows about Trevor the Tramp, sure. I hear someone even made me a page on the Internet and it got a few thousand likes. I don’t know exactly what that means but it sounds nice. Obviously that’s not why I’m here, though, is it? No, I’m here because I have also dedicated my life to finding and killing vampires.

I have killed five people that I know for sure as vampires, and there are two more that may or may not have been. There is one man I have killed, unfortunately, who I am now sure was human, but I also know he was a violent criminal so I try not to feel too badly about that. I’m sure it’s hard to accept for anyone, even an organisation such as yourselves, but I do not have proof to give you except for the vampire teeth that I will leave with this statement. Do not feel bad about reporting me to the police for the murders, as I am sure you must, since I have recently received a diagnosis of late-stage lung cancer and it is doubtful I will be living much longer anyway. That is the main reason for finally putting down on paper the details of the mission I have been secretly undertaking for the last half a century.

I killed my first vampire in 1959. At that point I was still living a mostly normal life, save perhaps for the abuse my family was subject to from my father. He was a vile man who ended up killing my mother in ’56. It was a clear-cut case of drunken murder but the courts ruled it as an accident and my father stayed out of jail. Luckily, myself and my brother only had to endure four months of unpleasantness from him before he finally finished drinking himself to death. I was thirteen when he finally died and my brother was fifteen. Following his death, there were several attempts to rehome us as orphans but they always split us up, and we couldn’t be doing with that, so we’d generally run away. After a while it became so we were happier finding our way on the streets than in another stranger’s home.

It was in autumn of 1959 that we were taken in by Sylvia McDonald. It wasn’t any sort of official fostering agreement, but it was getting to be quite cold at the end of October and it just saw us shivering in a side street next to the Kings Arms Hotel, as it was back then, on Tipping Street before the ring road took it over. Looking back I believe it to have been visiting the pub for the purposes of locating down and outs for use as victims and in my brother and myself, I must say, it successfully found some. It looked like an older woman, a widow I assumed, from the way it dressed in black and had a strange manner, which I now know to be the mark of the vampire, but back then I paid no attention to it. Many of the older folks had lived through both wars and it was not uncommon for them to be somewhat strange. I thought this was the case with Sylvia McDonald and after a small amount of discussion my brother and I agreed to the offer of food and shelter.

Let me say a little bit about the vampire’s manner, because once I taught myself to read I read as much on the subject as I could and it isn’t covered often or clearly in those books I have found. You see, from my own observations I believe a vampire to be more like an animal than a man. That is not to be taken as merely a turn of phrase but more to do with how they work. I do not believe vampires are human in anything more than their appearance, nor have I ever seen evidence that they create more of their kind through feeding. One thing that should be noted is that they do not speak. In fact they are in my experience totally silent, having no need for air and no room in their throats for a windpipe. They are able to make themselves understood, however, with absolute clarity, though the manner through which they do so has never been clear to me. When Sylvia McDonald came to us in the alleyway that day, we understood that was the name it gave itself and that we were being offered a meal and a bed, even though it never uttered a single sound. More than that, I do not recall the fact that it never said a word as striking either of us as strange in the slightest. I have never fully understood how they are able to do this, and I doubt that I ever shall, but I can only assume it to be some instinctive form of hypnosis or mind control.

Another misconception I have always faced when trying to discuss vampires is that people think they cannot go out during the day. They can. While I have witnessed them avoid direct sunlight if possible and wear generally more covering clothes when moving around during the daytime, they seem to have no significant problem doing so. I would describe them as weaker during the day, but whether this is scientifically due to the sunlight or simply because evil has less power in the daylight hours is unclear to me. Sylvia McDonald came to us on an overcast afternoon and enough of its pale flesh was uncovered that, were sunlight to truly harm a vampire, then it would likely have been destroyed.

On that afternoon my brother Nigel and I agreed to go back to the house of Sylvia McDonald in the hopes of a roof over our heads for a little while. She lived on Loom Street, which is still there, though the house itself was torn down long ago and there’s just a bit of scrubland now where it used to be. I sometimes go there to pay my respects, since my brother has no burial or grave I can visit. The house was old, even when I went there in 1959, and entering it I was hit by a stale, coppery smell that I did not recognise as old blood at the time, since I was barely 16 and did not have then the experience I have now. The furniture and wallpaper had clearly not been changed in many decades and a thick layer of dust covered everything. Even the floor was pale with dust except for a stark line where Sylvia McDonald moved, the train of its dress dragging behind it. I remember wondering whether Sylvia McDonald walked exactly the same route through the house always, as I saw other clear lines of passage in the rooms we passed through. None of the furniture looked used and when I picked up a book from one of the shelves the pages were solid with damp and mould. I began to feel very uneasy at this point, but whatever powers of persuasion the vampire had calmed me enough to continue following it with my brother.

We went up the stairs and I was led to a small room with a bed in it. I was made to understand that this would be my room and was left there as Sylvia McDonald led my brother away to the room next to it. When it returned it brought a bowl of fruit and offered it to me. The fruit was clearly a few weeks old and in various stages of rotting, but just to appease the thing I found an apple and a couple of grapes that seemed edible and I ate them. It watched me silently the whole time and then turned and walked out towards Nigel’s room. By this time whatever the creature had done to make me compliant seemed to be starting to wear off, and I was realising just how wrong everything was. I was also realising that it didn’t look like there was any easy escape from the house. All the windows I had seen were barred, and I recalled Sylvia McDonald had locked the sturdy-looking front door behind it after we had all entered. So instead I just laid down in the old musty bed and I waited.

Couldn’t rightly say what I was waiting for, but soon enough it got dark and I assumed Sylvia McDonald had gone to sleep, not yet realising the manner of being that I was dealing with. I wanted some light to comfort me but the old house seemed to have no electricity at all, so I used my cigarette lighter on a candle I found next to the bed and crept towards the door. It wasn’t locked, thankfully, and I left the room assigned to me and walked over to where I believed my brother was. I went in and found him lying in his own bed, pretending to sleep. After a bit of talk it became clear that Nigel was no happier with our situation than I was and we both resolved that another night on the cold streets was better than staying with this strange woman. As we talked through possible ways to escape, however, we heard a rustling sound outside the door, and the handle began to turn. Not wanting to anger our strange host, I crawled under the bed to hide, while Nigel returned to pretending to sleep.

From my vantage point under the bed, I could see the door open and the skirt of Sylvia McDonald enter and move towards the bed. I simply laid there and tried not to make a sound. I am not proud of this and sometimes have a certainty that my inaction led directly to my brother’s death, but most of the time I accept that if I had alerted the vampire to my presence then I would also have died. Either way, the fact of the matter is that I did nothing as I heard the sounds of a struggle overhead and Nigel’s strangled cry. The creature turned quickly and hurled him down, something fell to the floor in front of me, but I didn’t look at it, my eyes locked on Sylvia McDonald as it pounced upon my brother. It opened its mouth for what I then realised was the first time since we met it, and I could see nothing inside save for a dozen long, thick, pointed teeth like a shark. In one fluid movement it plunged those teeth into my brother’s neck and tore out a great chunk of flesh. Blood started to spurt from Nigel’s spasming body, as Sylvia McDonald’s throat began to twitch. Its jaw detached and a long tubular tongue about the thickness of my forearm snaked out of its throat and clamped onto the gushing wound. There was an awful slurping sound, the first noise I’d ever really heard the creature make, as the tongue sucked the blood from my brother’s throat. I just lay there watching as its stomach began to distend and swell, the now bulbous belly straining against the black dress it wore. After the longest ten minutes of my life, the vampire finished. Its tongue retracted back into its throat, still dripping blood onto the now-pale corpse of my brother, and it lay back upon the floor, apparently contented.

As this had been happening all my energy had gone towards not screaming or giving away my presence. But as the vampire lay satiated on the floor, I turned my attention to what had fallen from Nigel’s hand when he had been dragged out of the bed. It was his pocket knife. I had no idea what a small knife like that would do against a creature that seemed far stronger and faster than me, but I didn’t see any option other than to try. I moved so slowly as I reached for the knife that at times it seemed like I wasn’t moving at all. I was worried that the creature would spot me and strike as it had with Nigel, although I now know that smell is in fact the vampire’s major sense and, with all the blood around, there was little chance of it detecting my scent. Grasping the knife in my hands, I crept over towards the creature as it placidly digested my brother’s life, until I stood over it. I felt a sudden surge of rage and adrenaline come over me and with a speed and strength I never knew I had, I plunged the knife into Sylvia McDonald’s blood-bloated stomach.

It burst like a sick balloon, and blood began to pour out. The creature’s eyes shot open and it clutched at the wound desperately. Its throat was not capable of uttering a scream but its face displayed a silent pain and anger as it flailed on the floor. Stumbling back, trying to wipe the blood from my eyes, I felt an unexpected burning in my hand. I realised I’d touched the still-lit candle on the bedside table. I don’t know what I expected to happen when I grabbed the candle and pressed it to the dry part of Sylvia McDonald’s dress. I was just trying to find anything else I could do to harm it before it could recover from its split belly, but I certainly didn’t expect it to catch like dry tinder. The fire spread quickly over its repulsive form, though it did slow somewhat where the clothing or flesh was still moist with blood. It struck me that the vampire must be a very dry creature when not fresh-fed and engorged. Perhaps I had struck before the liquid could spread throughout its body.

Whatever the reason, Sylvia McDonald was alight, and to such a degree that the rest of the room was starting to catch fire as well. I was distraught at the idea of leaving this house without my brother, but he was clearly dead and I needed to escape. I recalled the vampire had been carrying a handbag when we first met it, and had used a key from it to lock the front door. It did not have the handbag with it now, though, so I began to desperately search the other rooms of the house, trying to find it. I did find it in the end, in what I assume to be the vampire’s bedroom. I’ll not describe it in detail, except to say that it appears to be where the creature took most of its meals. Hopefully that makes the picture clear enough for you. I found the key, though, and escaped that house before the fire did me any serious damage. I was terrified of the police coming and thinking I was a murderer, so I didn’t stick around. I just fled into the night.

It was almost a decade before I encountered another vampire. I’d been living on the streets all that time, occasionally in and out of various institutions, and had just about managed to convince myself that Sylvia McDonald had just been a bad reaction to the stress of watching my brother’s murder. It was in the late 60s that I learned different. It was 1968, I remember because that was the year United won the European Cup, and I did quite well out of it – people being generous to begging when they’re happy over a sports win. On a Friday night I would generally spend my time around the Oasis Club in Lloyd Street and hit up for change anyone who was slightly the worse for drink. Well, this night in particular I was doing quite well, as it was a warm June evening not too long after the Cup Final, and everyone was in a good mood.

Now about half eleven that night I spied a stranger all turned out for dancing, making his way from the club with a lady friend. I reckoned they might be good for a tanner, so made my approach. I gave them the spiel and waited. The man looked at me and I understood he wouldn’t be giving me any money, and I stepped away. It was as he turned to leave I realised that he hadn’t opened his mouth, and memories of Sylvia McDonald came rushing back to me in a flash. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I followed behind them at a distance. I didn’t try to hide or disguise myself, as I had long since learned, and it’s true now as it was back then, that no-one pays any real attention to a tramp. As I watched, I saw the clearly drunken woman asking this stranger questions and each time he’d just look at her and she’d smile as though he’d given some reassuring answer and stumble on behind him. All the while he never once opened his mouth.

I didn’t rightly know what to do about this. I had no weapon save my brother’s old pocket knife which I had kept sharp all these years, and while I was pretty sure of what I was seeing, I was still hesitant to attack with no provocation and no plan. As we walked, I kept an eye out for any discarded wood or timber and, sure enough, noticed a broken wooden palette partially sticking out of a bin. I grabbed a long shard and used my knife to quickly hack it to a point, ignoring the splinters. While I had not, at that time, done much research into the creatures I faced, believing as I did my experience as a youth to be the product of a disturbed mental state, I was still aware of their supposed weakness to wooden stakes. I had now followed the vampire, who I would later find out called itself Robert Arden, and its victim back to the building where it apparently lived. It let itself in the front door and the woman followed. I wasn’t fast enough to get in before the front door closed and obviously didn’t have a key, so I went round the windows and, luckily, it seemed the vampire lived on the ground floor.

I watched through the window as it led its victim into a sparsely furnished living room. I couldn’t see any obvious signs of previous slaughter, but I remembered how cleanly Sylvia McDonald had sucked up all the blood from my brother, so this did not strike me as odd. I gently tried the window and found it locked, so searched the garden for the heaviest stone I could find and watched what was happening inside. I had to be sure. Soon enough Robert Arden moved smoothly behind its now-seated prey, and finally opened its mouth to reveal those rows of shark-like teeth I knew would be there. I hurled the rock I held through the window, showering the room with broken glass and causing the woman to scream in shock. Robert Arden raised its head in surprise and for one moment our eyes locked and I knew I had made a terrible mistake. The woman looked at her monstrous companion and, seeing his now open mouth, screamed her terror even louder. In a single movement, far quicker than I expected, Robert Arden was through the window and on me. I struggled and fought, but it was far stronger than I was, and I could barely keep its jagged teeth from finding my throat. It was the first and last time I ever touched a vampire’s skin with my own. The flesh was cold and spongy, like the inside of a bruised apple, and I felt bile rise in my throat even as I fought for my life.

Finally, its teeth bit into my neck. Not enough to kill me outright but with enough force to cause the blood to flow. At that moment I saw a sort of frenzy enter the eyes of Robert Arden and with a spasm its leech’s tongue surged from its throat and I felt it attach to my neck. I do not know if you’ve ever felt your blood being sucked out of you, but I would not recommend it.

Now it is at this point I have something of an admission to make. For the three years preceding this event, as well as on and off through the years since, I have had a relationship with the drug heroin. I tried it for the first time shortly after Nigel’s death and since then I have periodically relapsed. I have always tried to keep this a secret, as I am aware that I have a certain reputation to uphold and I would not want it to be damaged with the revealing of my addiction. But it is important to this account, as I believe it was whatever heroin still remained in my system that night that caused the vampire Robert Arden to remove its tongue from my neck and start to shake, as though having a violent choking fit.

I lay there, trying to compose myself enough to fight back, when I became aware of the screaming. The woman, who had been brought in as a victim, was standing over the flailing Robert Arden, stabbing it repeatedly with a kitchen knife. Strong and quick as it was, the vampire didn’t seem to be able to cope with the sudden onslaught of violence and was on the ground. This gave me the precious seconds I needed to get to my feet and locate my improvised wooden stake. I took aim and plunged it into where I believed the thing’s heart should be. It was easier than I thought it would be – the chest was soft and yielding and there didn’t seem to be any ribcage to stop the blow. Robert Arden went rigid and froze, apparently unable to move its body, though I saw its eyes darting around wildly.

It was at that point the woman whose name I never discovered, dropped the knife and ran. I never saw her again, but she had already saved my life. I took out my cigarette lighter and set Robert Arden alight. Like Sylvia McDonald before it, it caught fire in a matter of seconds and, by the time the police arrived, there was nothing left but a small patch of scorched tarmac. I was lucky that night, and nobody saw anything or called the police before I was finished and had made my way from the scene but I was always more careful after that.

Following that night, though, I was never again worried that I might have been wrong about the existence of vampires. I always kept my eyes open for them, although sometimes I was too eager, as was the case of Alard Dupont who I killed in 1982 and later discovered was a human. It is my belief that they are very rare and feed only infrequently, as all evidence I have seen points to their feeding being fatal. If there were many vampires or if they ate often, the number of disappearances would quickly become noticeable to the rest of society. I do not know what they do with the bodies of their victims and this has always perplexed me, as they do not have any mechanism for eating solid food and I do not believe there are many, if any, cases of murder where the body is found completely without blood. I certainly do not think they rise as vampires themselves, as the vampire population seems far too small for this to be a possibility.

Archivist Notes:

According to Martin, who was here when they took this statement, it was at this point in writing that Mr. Herbert announced he needed some sleep before continuing. He was shown to the break room where he went to sleep on the couch. He did not awaken; unfortunately succumbing to the lung cancer right there. Martin says the staff had been aware of how serious Mr. Herbert’s condition was and had advised him to seek medical aid prior to giving his statement, but were told rather bluntly by the old man that he would not wait another second to state his case. I can’t decide whether this lends more or less credibility to his tale.

Regardless, there is substantial evidence to support the version of events told by Mr. Herbert in all aspects except the vampirism. There is a news report of a 1959 fire that consumed a house on Loom Street and apparently claimed the life of an 18-year-old boy, although no mention is made of the homeowner, and a police report from 1968 confirms the disappearance of Robert Arden in Manchester amid circumstances of violence, including a broken window and signs of a fire, though no human remains were found. There is also a murder report concerning one Alard Dupont, whose partially burned corpse was found in his home on August 2nd 1982. Unfortunately Mr. Herbert was never able to give details of others, so we cannot corroborate further.

There was, however, a small bag left on top of this statement, which appears to contain six shark teeth of varying sizes. According to correspondence with the Zoology Department at King’s College, they didn’t match any currently known species.

Personally, I don’t know what to think. I certainly don’t believe in wild tales of vampirism, but I can’t help but notice that the statement above appears to be a photocopy of a photocopy, and can’t find these supposed vampire teeth anywhere in the Archives or the Secure Containment Room. I don’t know where the originals are but the file number is listed among multiple information requests from the Institute’s government and law enforcement contracts. It may be that they take Mr. Herbert’s statement far more seriously than I do.

Source: Official Transcript and Podcast (MAG 10 Vampire Hunter)

#the magnus archives #magnus archives #MAG #MAG10 #MAG 10 #VampireKiller #Vampire Killer #Statement #The Hunt

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blackidyll · 7 years

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Somehow it’s the end of October? Where did the time go? Anyway, it means that December is almost here and I should work on sending out Christmas/holiday cards sooner than later in case international mail decides to take three months again and delivers them in Feb/March instead. My dear usual suspects, you’re on my mailing list and I’ll be using the same address as last year. Please let me know if you’ve moved since! You can still reach me at the same address ^^

If anyone else reads this on their dash and would like a card, let me know. Doesn’t matter if we haven’t really talked before -- I like sending and writing cards, and somehow in my head that’s easier to do than writing an email or sending a chat message, and I’m a terrible hoarder of pretty notepaper and cards and envelopes, so please give me the excuse of using some of that up so I can.............buy more.......... hahaha.

There’s some pointless rambling under the cut that you can ignore, it’s just me getting things off my chest. There’s no autumn here in the tropics, so if it’s getting wintery wherever you folks are, please have some apple cider or cocoa on my behalf, please and thank you ❤

I've been pretty tired most of this year.

Like, 2017 has been horrible to most people with all the natural and unnatural disasters, but I think it's also the daily grind things that really wear on you, and it piles up and piles up until you can't quite a remember a time when your shoulders aren't straining under the weight of it all.

I've been taking things on a daily basis frequently this year, but it also means I've neglected a lot of things along the way in an effort to keep sane. So that's a lot of messages or emails or even comments on my fics that I haven't gotten to or replied in a timely matter, and I apologize for that. I love and cherish every message or comment I get, and especially to the close friends who continuously poke at me for weeks until I finally reply -- thank you. I needed that. Please keep poking at me until I eventually reply that I'm not dead. I don't know what's wrong with my head this year except that it's easier to keep silent and, I don't know. Just think of things I want to say in my head but never actually say them aloud/write them down in black and white.

Anyway, the governmental paperwork for my aunty has finally gone through and my mom and other aunty now have legal right to deal with her assets and so on (yes, it's been months, but also: anything dealing with the government takes fucking forever, even if all your papers and things are in order). On another aside, if you're old enough to have assets to your name - property, vehicles, even if you have savings in the bank account, WRITE A WILL. My aunty updated her will and had it notarized shortly before she passed away -- she had known medical conditions -- and here we still are five months later, just released of the red tape. I know it is depressing as fuck to think of wills when you're in your twenties or whatever -- which was my reaction whenever I saw the will-writing agencies setting up booths at my workplace -- but after going through all of that with my aunty? Write that will. Whoever you're leaving behind is going to be dealing with grief and doesn't need the additional headache of getting boxed in by bureaucracy.

Things at work are getting better now that I got out of the cesspit of backstabbing, manipulations and politics. Holy fuck. I'm still in the same office, but after a lot of silent screaming at myself for my own blindness and stupidity, I maneuvered myself out of a really problematic team and away from a particularly vicious backstabbing team member and now I'm much happier with my new team. I still have to deal with seeing the backstabber at work every day, but hey, she's officially alienated almost the entire office and she's drowning under her work, so the vindictive part of me takes great pleasure in witnessing that.

I was in a car accident a week before my birthday -- I'm physically perfectly okay! But since the motorcycle smashed right into my side of the car (I wasn't driving, but it was my vehicle) that was... really fucking scary. So yet another aside, sometimes it's really worth it to spend a bit more money and buy a safer car. My car has a superstrong reinforced steel beam between the front and back doors, and that's what took the brunt of the motorcycle impact, instead of, you know, the door, which would have caved in and crunched ME up. So. My paranoia and anxiety about driving? Has about increased tenfold, and my insurance premium is back to its shitty high levels, but I finally got my car back and it's beautiful and pristine after two months in the workshop and I'm just pretty grateful to this one tonne hunk of metal that I normally am quite leery of because it could easily kill others but... then again, it did also keep me quite safe.

I don't know. It's been a lot of near misses this year. Things are shitty but they could be a lot worse. On another plus, my phone's battery has been steadily dying since I went to New Zealand last year and fried (froze?) it in the cold winter air trying to take photos of a waterfall until it couldn't go ten minutes without dying, and I just went to a repair shop to get my phone pried opened and changed the battery and it seems the new battery is working great *crosses fingers* So I can use my phone a little longer without forking out yet another chunk of money for a new phone.

And today, I wrote and submitted a letter to resign from my apartment's joint management committee, which is yet another cesspool of manipulations and backstabbing and really dodgy activity, and I know I should care more because it's my apartment building too and they're making decisions using the money that all residents contribute, but frankly all of it is just not worth the fucking stress. I'm out, and thank goodness for that.

It feels like a lot of things in my life -- my aunty's death, things at work, the car accident, the political stuff with the apartment committee and even my phone -- are slowly getting fixed or dealt with. Hopefully that will be mirrored in my mental state and I can end 2017 getting to a slightly healthier frame of mind instead of all the sleepless procrastinating "I don't want to deal with reality" habits I got into this year.

So. Last two months of the year. There are a lot of people I owe replies to, and I really need to get on that. I haven't been active in fandom much -- the Victuuri Big Bang was an exception and I have to thank my wonderful artist because they really really motivated me to keep writing with all these gorgeous artwork -- but I've joined the 00Q Reverse Bang again this year (didn’t manage to join any YOI holiday exchanges though)... so, there should be more activity from me fandom-wise in a couple of months.

#*#there's a lot of pointless rambling there #i'm aware I'm shouting into the void #but the abyss is a pretty nice place to just talk your feelings and thoughts out to you know?#you don't have that pressure or expectation of getting a response and needing to respond in turn #but i'm serious about the card thing #if you've got a fandom or pairing or whatever let me know #i'll probably write a couple of fic sentences in the card ^^

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lovehaswonangelnumbers · 5 years

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New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/intuitive-astrology-mercury-retrograde-october-november-2019/

Intuitive Astrology: Mercury Retrograde October-November 2019

By Tanaaz

Mercury makes its final retrograde for the year 2019, from October 31st to November 20th, through the sign of Scorpio.

While Mercury won’t officially go retrograde until October 31st, we are going to feel its energy slowing down in preparation from around October 12th.

Mercury Retrograde can sometimes be viewed as an annoyance that can bring delays, miscommunications, technology breakdowns, and even an increase in anxious energy, but this usually happens only when we are pushing too hard and acting too fast.

We have to remember that we are a boundless, infinite, abundant soul living in a body that is not really any of these things, and sometimes we need gentle reminders to slow down, pause, and digest, and that’s exactly what this final Mercury Retrograde of 2019 intends to do.

All through the month of October, we have been challenged and pushed by some heavy planetary alignments, and the retrograde of Mercury will actually help us to catch our breath and take another look at what has come up for us.

Mercury also happens to go retrograde in the watery sign of Scorpio on the same day as All Hallows Eve, the time when the veil between this dimension and other dimensions are thin.

As the planet that rules over communication, Mercury going retrograde at this time actually enhances our subtler, more intuitive methods of communication and allows us to access these gifts with greater ease.

If there is someone we wish to talk to on the other side, whether it be a loved one or our angels, this is actually the perfect time to do so.

Along with being able to connect with our loved ones on the other side, this energy is also excellent for soul to soul communication too.

While regular avenues of communication may not be favored under Mercury Retrograde, soul to soul communication can actually be extremely healing.

If there is someone you wish to confront but don’t quite feel ready to, or if there is someone you wish to get closure with but can’t talk to for whatever reason, soul to soul communication can be a good fix.

Simply close your eyes and think about the person you wish to speak to. Ask your guides and angels to help you connect to their soul. Once you feel this connection, begin by communicating with them either out loud, in your mind, or by writing them a letter.

Chatting soul to soul also allows you to both leave your egos, wounds, and triggers behind and instead, offers an opportunity for more love, understanding, and forgiveness.

Another great version of this technique is the Ho’oponopono prayer, which is also wonderful for bringing healing, closure, and forgiveness when you can’t talk face to face.

All through 2019, Mercury has been retrograding through the water signs, signaling that the Universe has been asking us to work on strengthening our intuitive voice and intuitive gifts.

Now, as Mercury makes its way through the last water sign, we are going to come full circle and perhaps learn something new about the way our intuition speaks to us and how our intuition shows up in our lives.

In fact, pay attention to your intuition during this final retrograde cycle and see if you can pick up on any clues or intuitive hunches that you may be feeling.

If something feels off, or if you receive some information that doesn’t seem quite right, this Mercury Retrograde would be the perfect time to investigate further before making a conclusion.

While Mercury Retrograde is typically not a good time to start new things, it is a good time to go back over things and to revisit information to ensure you haven’t missed anything the first time around.

We also have to move slow, so don’t allow others to pressure you into making a decision or doing anything that doesn’t feel right.

Venus is also very active during this Mercury Retrograde and may stir themes similar to what came up for you when Venus was last in Scorpio, which was from October 2018 into early January 2019.

As Mercury nears the end of its retrograde, the focus is going to shift to the thoughts that run through our minds.

Very often, our mind likes to play tricks on us. It can make something seem worse than it is and it can also color our experiences or our way of seeing the world.

Our mind is powerful and is something that can control our lives if we don’t pause, reflect, and pay attention to the thoughts we are telling ourselves.

We all know that the world can be a dark and scary place sometimes, but we also know that there is good in the world too.

When we spend our time wrapped up in the darkness of life, it doesn’t really change anything. All it does it make us feel more miserable and unsafe, and we tend to notice the darkness more.

It’s not that we need to ignore the darkness, but focusing on the beauty and positive sides of life can be a much happier and lighter frame of mind to be in.

Under the final Mercury Retrograde of the year, we can do a mental inventory and figure out what thoughts we want to keep close to us, and which ones we want to discard.

Try to reframe any negative thoughts. Try to remain optimistic and hopeful, and don’t be afraid to stop consuming things that instigate negativity and fear such as watching certain news channels or scrolling through certain social media accounts.

Work on creating a healthy, peaceful, and serene environment for your mind and you will find that Mercury will be able to recharge your mental batteries with greater ease.

Mercury will go direct on November 20, but won’t return to its full speed and strength until December 8, just in time for the holiday season.

And as we wrap up the last Mercury Retrograde of 2019, be sure to also celebrate all moments when you:

Listened to your intuition

Checked again when something felt off

Chose to see a delay as a blessing

Allowed yourself to slow down

Confronted a painful truth

Realized something was not what it seemed and took action

Communicated using your other senses

Expressed yourself clearly and thoughtfully

Expressed yourself at all

Genuinely listened to what another person was saying

Forgave someone – including yourself!

Stood up for yourself

Did a phone detox

Worked through miscommunications

Didn’t get triggered by something you heard or read

Identified a trigger

Calmed anxious thinking

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becomethatgirlyoufancy · 7 years

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Chapter 2 - I Can’t Even Work

Shock. Pure shock. Nothing else processed through my mind. It was running a million miles a minute, and everything in my entire life that could have possibly led me to this very moment played out. Every pathway, every decision, every tiny moment that could have made it possible for the one dream I never truly dared wish to come true, was racing through my mind. Somehow, someone. No. Shaun. Andrew said that Shaun was the one who recommended me. But how? Where had he discovered me? Had he seen one of our shows? Our channel on YouTube? My own personal channel of original songs and covers? Had he heard my name somewhere?

At this point Claire and Steven had made it outside, looking for the both of us. I remember seeing Claire’s worried face, Steven with a look of confusion. My subconscious focused on the familiar visage of my best friend, watching as her own emotions played out as she heard the news. First a look of worry, as I was clearly shell-shocked. Then excitement as she found out a headliner wanted me, and finally a confusing mixture of shock and … jealousy? as she found out that it was the one band I would never say no to. The one band that I would follow to the end of the Earth if they asked me to join. Of course we both knew what my answer would be.

I took a deep breath, realizing my brain could probably use the oxygen as it awoke from its stupor. I looked at Andrew, who had never looked happier to be my manager at this point. He knew how much this meant to me, how much their music had done for me. I knew he loved that band as much as me, and that he appreciated that this was a big moment for the both of us.

“When? How on earth was this decided anyways?” I sat down at one of the tables, realizing Claire had already taken a seat and honestly looked very odd to me at the moment. Andrew joined us, as we all processed this news.

“Shaun Huberts is getting married, and since he’ll be leaving the band for a bit, they need a replacement. Their US tour starts in September, so you’d need to leave within the next few days to meet them and start practicing. As for how, Shaun apparently saw your videos online where you covered some of Tegan and Sara’s songs, and was impressed enough with that and your live performances to feel that it should be you.”

The shock took over again. Would this ever feel normal? Hopefully in a few months when I was back, I wouldn’t feel so crazy. I turned as Claire sat forward, arms crossed.

“So you’re saying she’ll be gone from the end of July, until mid October? What about our shows? We already have some booked, and tonight could’ve been our big break.” Was she pissed? Or was I dreaming? Her reaction to this was alien to me.

“Are you seriously pissed right now Claire? I’ve been offered my dream job and you’re worried about yourself.” She scoffed at me.

“This dream job will last a few months. Then what? You could’ve spent that time building your own career with us.” She sat back, arms still crossed.

“Claire, this is going to build my career. You can’t play with someone this well known and not get some recognition.”

“Recognition in the gay community maybe, but not everywhere else. They’re still just as nameless as we are.”

I couldn’t handle this right now. “Claire, either be happy for me or shut the fuck up. I can’t with you right now. Really.” I turned to Andrew, who looked apprehensive.

“Tell them I can leave tomorrow. Call them now, whoever you need to call. Arrange it for as early as possible. I can meet them wherever they need me to. Just don’t make me sound too desperate for this, ok? Oh, and make sure they know that I’ll need my manager with me for any contracts, or deals, and that everything is to go through the both of us. I trust you, but I don’t want either of us signing something without the other. Past that, you do whatever you need to do.” I stood up, ignoring Claire as Andrew hugged me very enthusiastically. Steven hugged me and sat back down with Claire, and I left to get my things and head home, ignoring the glare pointed at my back.

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

I had to admit that I was really glad we’d come back to Sara’s apartment for this discussion instead of mine.

Sara was livid. When we’d signed on with a bigger label, we’d thought we’d worked it out to have most of the control, like we always had. This was the first time the label had stepped in without letting us in on the decision, and my sister wasn’t handling it well. Sure, Shaun had hand picked this girl, which was slightly reassuring, but as soon as Sara had Piers on speakerphone, she let him have it.

“How could you let them do this without speaking to us?! We know nothing about this girl! We’ve never heard her play, we don’t know anything about her history, and we have no idea how she’ll get along with everyone. This isn’t a decision to be made lightly. She’s starting off our tour with us. She’ll end up sharing a dressing room with us, and probably get stuck on our bus because they aren’t going to put her with the guys! Piers, what the FUCK is going on here?”

“If you’d let me explain Sara, I would. I understand your concern, I really do.” I shook my head as Sara tried to interrupt.

“The girl’s great Sara. Shaun did well picking her. I saw her play tonight and she was fantastic. Her names Melanie Taylor. She’s 25, squeaky clean record, works as a proofreader for a local publishing company, somewhere up in management. She’s smart. Gorgeous. Fits in well with your aesthetic. Great with her fans. She’s flying out in the morning to meet you both, and start practice. If you don’t like her, I need to know tomorrow, or we won't have time to find someone else. Just give her a chance though ok? Her manager was even nice. He’ll be there too. Says he’s a huge fan.”

Sara still looked pissed, so I finished the conversation.

“Sounds good Piers. We’ll meet her tomorrow. Have her come to my place, and tell her to be ready to give us a taste of what she can do. We’ll treat her to dinner, and see how it goes. We’ll give you our decision tomorrow night.” Sara looked a little calmer knowing she had an out, but we both knew it wasn’t likely to go over well if we said no.

“Thanks Tegan. Her flight arrives around 10am, so she’ll be at your place around noon. I’ll get her set up at the hotel, and then bring her over myself. See you tomorrow girls.”

“Bye Piers.” We said it in unison, something that always seemed to amuse Sara. She took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly, something I know her therapist had been reiterating in their sessions. I was already in the kitchen making coffee, since that always seemed to help her, when she joined me. She took the steaming mug and inhaled. I could see she was already calming down.

“When does Emy fly in? I know you wanted to spend the break with her.” I finished making my cup and took a sip, adding more sugar before finally sitting down with Sara.

“She gets in tonight, and she wanted me to ask if you wanted to go to dinner. She’s thinking sushi, of course, so we need to find a place. She’ll also be here tomorrow when Melanie arrives.” She took a sip of coffee and wouldn’t meet my gaze, so I knew something was up.

“She’ll be here to keep you calm, you mean.”

She looked at me pointedly, not admitting I was correct.

“It’s not that big of a deal Sara. Shaun said she was great, and he’s hoping to rejoin us at some point, plus he’ll be here for practice to make sure she gets everything right.”

“You know how I feel about adding people to the band. It took forever to find Shaun in the first place. We have practically no say in this now, and it’s honestly too late to find anyone else.”

I relented, knowing this would be an argument I wouldn’t win.

“Let’s just see what happens tomorrow, ok? Piers already knows that she needs to be ready to play something for us tomorrow. I have everything she would need to play a couple songs, and if it’s honestly not enough, we’ll tell Piers.”

Sara drank her coffee in silence, and I knew that was the best reaction i’d get out of her on this.

#tegan and sara #tegan quin #sara quin #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3fic #archive of our own #fanfiction.net #romance

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legendsmag · 5 years

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Skyler Valentine-Griffin opens up about “Royalty”,and hints at what’s coming next!

Shortly after dropping “Goddess” in January last year, the self styled Rap Goddess, Skyler Valentine embarked on the ‘Goddess World Tour’ and dropped “Royalty” 28 track album in October. The world was expecting an announcement about tour dates for it, but instead it was announced that Valentine had married Blaize Griffin and that the pair were expecting their first child together. It seems that the Queen of Rap is still going strong with features popping up on Penny Lane’s new album “Stripped” and some new freestyles! Recently, we got the chance to sit down with Skyler and chat about Royalty, and what’s coming next for her, exclusively for Legends.

LM: “Thanks for taking some time for us today!”

SV-G: “Absolutely. I always have time for one of my favorite magazines”

LM: “So, now that your getting closer to the end of your pregnancy, we know that people are starting to get antsy to know what the future’s going to look like for you. So first, we thought we’d start with asking you what your top five favorite songs from “Royalty” are?”

SV-G: “ Awe. First of all, I just want to give my fans a shout out, because I just love you all so much, and i can’t thank you all enough for all your love, support and encouragement over the years. Ahh, I don’t know why everyone thinks that’s any easy question to start with, cause I really do love each one, or else it wouldn’t be on the album, you know? But if I have to pick, in no particular order, I think I’d say: “Best Life”, “LLC”, “Bed”, “Hard White” and “Majesty”.

LM: “Can you give us any insight to if you have plans to announce tour dates for ‘Royalty’?”

SV-G: “ Royalty was my fifth album, and I wanted it to mark it as really special to me forever, so i made sure it was also my largest album to date. i really wanted to make sure that there was something on it for everyone, which I feel I managed to do, so I’m like, really really, proud of it. That said, some of the tracks on it, i wrote while I was still writing the ‘Goddess’ album that i didn’t include there because i didn’t feel it fit that theme, and the majority of the album was written while i was on the road. I fully did have plans to tour ‘Royalty’ album but I found out I was pregnant when it dropped,so that changed my plans. At first, I considered doing a small tour after the baby was born, but honestly, I have zero plans to leave my family after our baby is born for quite some time, and by the time that happens, I feel like it’ll be time for new music anyway, so no, it’s not getting a tour. “

LM: “That’s a little bit of disappointing for your fans, but we understand! So does this mean you’ll be taking a hiatus completely for the foreseeable future then? “

SV-G:” I don’t ever stop working really, to be honest. I jot in my notebooks all the time, whether its a lyric I thought of, or just a quick concept or whatever. So not really in that sense. I just won’t be doing anything that forces me to not be in LA, with my children and husband until I decide otherwise. “

LM: “ Fair enough! How does it feel to have a feature and a freestyle on the charts right now while adjusting to motherhood?”

SV-G: “ Great, obviously. I mean, Im surprised “Bust Down Barbiana” is sitting at number 5 right now. The freestyles that I did were really just for fun and to give my fans something to jam to while I focus on myself, Blaize and our daughter. So i’m really feeling the love from that. But everything in my life is going great right now. I’ve never been happier.

LM: “That’s great to hear, Skyler! We’re wishing you and your family the best, and we can’t wait to what you have in store for us in the future!”

#Skyler Valentine-Griffin #penny lane #blaize griffin #Stripped #goddess #Royalty #exclusive

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lifeisaboxofcereal · 7 years

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No clue who this is addressed to, nor what the purpose of this is/will be, but feeling exasperated that nothing helps me feel better, how about I give venting via writing a shot.

Here’s the deal. I’ve been involved with this guy for about 5+ years. Lets call him owl. Its the first thing I looked at in my apartment trying to come up with a code name instead of publishing this guys name who any of you reading most likely already know his name via any of my fb posts in the last 5 years. I met him my freshman year at UD. Ballroom dance team. To this day I dont even know if I can explain what drew me to him. He was cocky and confident, cheeky, and cute. He danced. He was a Marine. He seemed so out of my league as a dorky, naive, super awkward freshman that didn’t know anything about college culture. I learned quick that a few dates does not mean we’re dating, and that he was a man of many many ladies. I learned quick that he did not really take my feelings into consideration but I would put them aside and accept any interactions or affections that were given. We had a connection and I had fun with him. I just wanted to go with it.

I went with it for all four years of college. Always waiting for when he’d finally be ready to commit. Or see how much I do for him. How I’m always there, good times and bad. Even when he really really pisses me off. Waiting for him to see that I was his best friend the way I saw that he was mine. Waiting for him to stop messing up with me, appreciate me, cherish me, want to show me off.

I’m gonna be honest, that never came. Not in college. I didnt date anyone else. I didnt get involved with anyone else more than a few months, and those involvements were usually the product of me and owl being in one of our phases where we were on the outs and he was not talking to me. but once we were good again sure enough I’d lose interest in whoever it was that I was entertaining in that time. I regret a lot of that. Not giving others real chances, because they actually deserved them and wanted them.

But with him it was always like a game, like a chase, never ending, suspenseful, thrilling, exciting, passionate, never a boring moment. Always keeping me guessing. I hated it but I loved it. He didn’t respect me, and he didnt respect my feelings, but still I stuck around. It’s only now that I’m seeing that I had slowly been losing respect for myself, so what incentive would he have for respecting me when I was being a hypocrite? Our dynamic was one of push and pull. There were the times he’d pull me in and never want to let me go, and then without warning he would push me away and leave me feeling abandoned and confused as to what I did to deserve it.

He hurt me a lot. Never physically. Never. Never forced himself on me, I never once was physically scared of him. But emotionally. Every year there was at least one incident. One big fight that seemed like the be all end all. That would leave me in my dorm crying with my roommate wondering how he could be so cold and harsh towards me after everything I’ve done and everything we’ve shared. Always wishing that he would miss me and realize everything and change. It was a clear cycle, and I’m not stupid, I was very cognizant of it, but idk, i liked it and i was still waiting. What I had with him was so different and special I couldnt let it, or him, go.

Last year, October, we had a big falling out. That was really the be all end all. I knew because, and as stupid as this is or sounds, in all of our fights we had never unfriended each other on facebook or done something as extreme or defining as that. We always left doors open. But with this, he burned all bridges. He made a facebook status about me. He wanted all of my things out of his place. He 100% snapped. It was over, he broke things off and our 4 years of being together but not really together, was over.

I spent the next 5 months in therapy and trying to keep busy with friends and classes and trying to find myself again. So much of my identity was dependent on him and associated with him. All of my memories included him. Even dance reminded me of him. I was so lost. And missed him so much but had motivation to work on myself and for once be comfortable and happy with being on my own. I remember one particular session with my therapist in which she told me that if I still have hope that we will reconcile one day, I need to completely let go of what we had. Put it to rest, let it go, mourn it, and leave it in the past, because there was too much to be fixed and too much wreckage to salvage anything. That if we were to ever reconcile it would have to be a completely clean slate. Free of the past transgressions. So that night I blocked him. I blocked his number, his facebook. his snapchat, everything. It was hard and scary but I did it in hopes that thats what I needed to do even if temporarily and symbolically leave our 4 years together in the past.

2 days later was Valentines day. I was supposed to go to a devils game with a friend and she cancelled last minute because she was sick. I reached out to everyone in my phone to try to find someone to go with me because I did not want to spend valentines day in bed thinking about him and missing him. Nobody could come to the game. I was offered a shift at work and almost took it but someone hopped on it before I could. So i was left with chinese food and netflix. I let myself cry and be upset, and feel the hurt remembering our past valentines days together. And then my mom came to my room and let me know that jake was coming to the house. shit i said his name. whatever. she let me know that he asked permission to come and clear the air, and that he would be there in 40 minutes.

He was there in 30, and we sat down, with my best friend as a third party, and we talked for 5 hours. About everything. Anything. All the grievances we had with each other. What we realized. What we regretted. And he told me that he loved me. That he needs me in his life, and said all of the things that I had waited 4 years for. I kept thinking about how right my therapist was, about letting go and letting them come to you, about starting fresh, about leaving the past in the past.

The months that followed were the epitome of a honeymoon phase. My god. we were finally doing things right. He was showing me off, appreciating me, never wanted to let me go, it was everything. I dont think I’ve ever been so happy. We were so in love with each other, so excited, couldn’t wait more than 2 weeks to visit each other again. We moved in together. We made an apartment a home together. We started new jobs and set goals. We motivated each other, supported each other, and wholeheartedly loved each other. I finally felt like I was in a functional and healthy relationship. I felt so loved every single day and I finally understood what people meant about that unbelievable feeling of being in love with someone who was just as in love with you. We did and learned so much together. We had setbacks, and tiffs here and there, but we worked through each one.

Theres a lot in between then and now, but I don’t think it’s worth getting into or explaining. All I can say is that I don’t know how we went from that, to this. Not speaking. Not looking at each other. An apartment that was once so full of love and laughter now only has silence and tension.

He has problems. And to be honest. I’ve always known that but never wanted to accept it. I have problems too because I am very compliant. The relationship became emotionally abusive. I am mentally abused. And he has left me hating myself when I dont even know who I am. I don’t regret staying with him. I don’t regret getting back with him last year. I dont regret anything. All i’ve done is love and give as much as I possibly can. Im not angry. More than anything, i’m disappointed.

I thought he was it. Actually. I know he is. If he were to get the help that he needed. But in a normal relationship, when there is an issue, you don’t feel that your partner becomes a completely different person. That’s not normal. And right now, I don’t know who he is. For the past 2 weeks I have been wishing I could just snap him out of it. Grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Show him a photo of us and see him come back to me. I have written heartfelt letter after heartfelt letter. Debating giving one to him in hopes of softening him up and coming out of this haze of anger and hatred hes in right now. But thats not normal. I shouldnt have to snap him out of anything. I shouldnt have to wish he’d come back. I shouldnt have to plead and beg for him to remember our good times to soften up. None of it is normal. He dissociates. And when i look at his eyes hes not there. I know this sounds dramatic but it’s true. It’s scary, it’s hurtful, it worries me, but it’s true. He completely detaches, and it’s as though he never knew me. As though we never shared a single experience together. And nothing I do can bring him out of that place. As I write this, I feel like I’m writing or remembering someone that died. And thats because essentially, that is how I feel. the man i spent the past year with loving and learning and GROWING died. He’s gone and I dont know why or where he is. And i’m left with this fraction of myself that doesn’t know how to cope with any of it.

He’s not good for me. Its not worth it. I deserve better. I’m going to be so much happier without him. These are all words that an infinite number of friends or loved ones can say to me but the fucked up part of all of it is that I don’t want better, I want him. I know that I will never be able to fully let him go. It’ll never be fully over. And i will always love him. I care about him more than I care about myself. Which is a big part of the problem.

I don’t know where to go from here. Or how to cope. I don’t know what to do. All i know is that I miss him with every fiber of my being. I can’t open my phone gallery because the last photos I took were with him and I can’t look at them. I made a new facebook to run away from it all. Nothing I do makes me feel better. Friends. Work. Gym. Margaritas. Movies. Its all a distraction from missing the person who made me smile ear to ear every morning, and exhale peacefully every night. Even now as I write this, hes walking around the apartment and its as though Im a ghost. He doesnt see me. Acknowledge me. Notice me. And while I used to see him and feel overwhelming love, I now just feel hated. Complete hatred. As though I ruined his life, when all I ever tried to do was make his life better.

So friends, that is my story. I don’t know how it’ll end but I can tell you for sure that I will never be able to hate him or be angry with him. And I will always love him. What comes next for me, I have no idea. I thought writing all of this out would maybe help me have some sort of epiphany but no epiphany came.Sometimes I wish I could have my mind wiped clean of all of this so I wouldnt have to deal with this pain. But I cant. So this is going to suck. For a long while. I’m going to be upset for a long while. I hope at the end of this I can find myself and be a version of myself that has value and pride. I want to be the Bren that loves herself, respects herself, values herself, and is proud of herself. The bren that marched on washington for womens rights in the world needs to march for her rights in her life. More than anything though, I hope he finds himself. I hope he does what he needs to do. I only ever wanted him to be happy. Even if it was at my expense.

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mikemortgage · 5 years

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Smart cities may be too smart for their own good

Canada has a rich history of innovation, but in the next few decades, powerful technological forces will transform the global economy. Large multinational companies have jumped out to a headstart in the race to succeed, and Canada runs the risk of falling behind. At stake is nothing less than our prosperity and economic well-being. The Financial Post set out explore what is needed for businesses to flourish and grow. You can find all of our coverage here.

“I don’t think I’ve ever said anything about smart cities,” says Dan Doctoroff, chief executive of Sidewalk Labs, Alphabet Inc.’s urban innovation arm. “I really don’t like the term.”

That dislike is a little bit unfortunate, because, whether Doctoroff likes it or not, he happens to be in charge of Canada’s most high-profile smart city project: “Google’s smart city” — as it is called in one news story after another — on the Toronto waterfront.

Just how smart the Sidewalk Toronto project will ultimately become is still a bit hazy. It might be a technology-infused, data-driven, futuristic neighbourhood “reimagining cities from the internet up” as the company was once fond of saying. Or, critics say, it could turn into a company town that subverts the democratic will of governments and sets bad precedents for data collection, privacy and digital surveillance.

At this point, Sidewalk Toronto is largely open to interpretation, which is precisely what makes it such a perfect example of a smart city project: it’s big, ambitious, technology-driven and, most importantly, still an idea, a vision, a proposal that hasn’t been realized yet.

Even something as seemingly straightforward as planning to use self-driving cars causes confusion. Will the project close all the streets in the neighbourhood and only allow autonomous vehicles? That doesn’t make much sense for an area that covers only about 12 acres and can be walked from one end to the other in just 10 minutes. Instead, it might plan the streets and parking spaces in a way to accommodate self-driving cars, which is a little less groundbreaking.

Proponents also talk about “tall timber” construction, using wood in innovative ways to make new kinds of buildings, and a radically different approach to public space in the buildings. Concept drawings generally feature hexagonal paving stones, allowing for flexible streetscapes that can be changed to suit different kinds of usage.

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But Doctoroff and the rest of the Sidewalk Labs team consistently say everything is a work in progress and all the ideas are open for discussion, consultation and revision until a final Master Innovation and Development Plan (MIDP) is submitted — supposedly by the end of June — to Waterfront Toronto, the federal-provincial-municipal governing agency.

Even after the MIDP is published, years of permit approvals and construction plans await before any buildings are ready for occupancy. Of course, there’s also the matter of the money — likely billions of dollars — to implement that plan. Sidewalk Labs has already committed $50 million to just get this far in the process.

But whatever the Sidewalk Toronto project becomes in the years ahead, the drive for smart cities isn’t going anywhere, even if a lot of urbanists would really appreciate a little rebranding.

Doctoroff isn’t alone in his distaste for the “smart city” term. Most people who work in urban technology and innovation cringe because it’s become an annoying buzz term such as “the internet of things” or “blockchain.”

The term also implies that today’s cities are dumb, but tomorrow they’ll be smart, which belies the enormous engineering, planning and management already embedded into every modern city.

Nevertheless, the prospects for smart cities have captured the public’s attention. According to an October Surveymonkey poll for the Financial Post, 35 per cent of respondents are excited for Canada to partake in smart city projects during the next decade. By comparison, only 18 per cent of respondents were excited about artificial intelligence, and just 13 per cent were excited about self-driving cars.

The federal government is also on board, having launched the Smart City Challenge in 2017 to fund municipalities that apply technology in novel ways to make life better in their communities.

The case for smart cities at its core goes something like this: urbanization has steadily intensified for years, putting them at risk of grinding to a halt and collapsing under their own weight. The solution, evangelists say, is to apply innovative technology and thinking to do things such as route traffic more quickly, use energy more efficiently and make residents healthier and happier.

Of course, the devil is in the details, or, more specifically, the data.

Through the second half of 2018, Sidewalk Labs has faced mounting opposition from activists who want to know who will own the data associated with the Toronto project.

Privacy is the most obvious concern, but policy advocates prefer to talk about data governance, which is a catch-all for questions about who owns and operates the urban data sensors, who has access to the data they collect and what the data can be used for.

For example, sensors embedded in buildings could dynamically control heating and cooling systems to improve energy efficiency, but also track people as they move around. Should that system be operated by a private company or the government? If the data is anonymized, should it be available — either sold or freely given away — to third parties that could mine it for other purposes? Should police have access to the data if it would help their investigations?

In China, authorities are using cameras and facial recognition software to automatically identify jaywalkers and send them instant fines by text message. Many Canadians might think that crosses the line from a smart city to an authoritarian, state-run city, but the line is increasingly fuzzy.

Kurtis McBride, chief executive and co-founder of Kitchener, Ont-based Miovision Technologies Inc., which makes systems to manage traffic flow in urban environments, has spent a lot of time thinking about these data and technology issues.

McBride said he’s still waiting for a consensus “architecture” for how smart city systems fit together. Right now, he said, companies are hoping to dominate urban technology the way America Online (AOL) became king of the internet before an open system based on web browsers and pages took over.

“When an ultimate architecture and protocol emerges for the smart city, the impact and the possibilities are going to be so much more profound,” he said.

McBride said the tussle to define future smart city standards is part of why the Sidewalk Labs project is so contentious and controversial: people worry that it will help set a precedent for how data is managed across myriad future projects in Canada.

As a result, he said, government should be taking the lead in making data governance rules.

“It’s very dangerous if we assume that the private sector is responsible for thinking about privacy with respect to data,” McBride said. “That’s the opposite of democracy. The people should set the rules about how data can be used and not used, and then corporations should follow those rules.”

Finding a common architecture also addresses bigger issues than just traffic lights and public infrastructure, said Matthew Boukall, vice-president of product management and data solutions at real estate adviser Altus Group Ltd.

Boukall said he is seeing plenty of smart city-type innovations embedded into new buildings, but each building at this point is essentially an island. Eventually, he expects a network of connected buildings will manage things such as energy consumption.

In the case of Sidewalk Toronto, the company has proposed that an independent “civic data trust” would analyze and approve all urban data proposals to help ensure transparency and privacy.

Kristina Verner, vice-president of Innovation, Sustainability and Prosperity at Waterfront Toronto, which has been helping to facilitate the Sidewalk Toronto public consultation process and will ultimately provide oversight on the final MIDP, said a lot of the issues around privacy can be addressed by anonymizing data right from the beginning.

“All of the personally identifiable information that could be collected here needs to be de-identified and delinked from the broader data sets, so that you don’t run into a situation where there’s a bit of a surveillance city kind of involvement happening,” she said. “It should be a neighbourhood that’s really grounded in privacy.”

But de-identified data collection isn’t the norm in the rest of Toronto. Subways, streetcars and buses have CCTV cameras and that video footage allows people to be identified. Moreover, the Toronto Transit Commission and other public transit agencies in the Greater Toronto Area use Presto cards and have handed over personal data about users to police on dozens of occasions.

Doctoroff believes Sidewalk Toronto will define a higher standard when it comes to urban data collection.

“We want to go much further than the status quo, which is essentially kind of the Wild West out there in terms of the collection of data in the public realm,” he said. “With CCTV cameras proliferating everywhere now, sensors all over the place, we actually believe at the end of the day that we need a stronger data governance regime.”

Teresa Scassa, Canada Research Chair in Information Law and Policy at the University of Ottawa, and a member of the Waterfront Toronto Digital Strategy Advisory Panel, said policymakers will likely continue wrestling with these policy questions for a long time as the technology develops.

“We are tinkering and fiddling. There’s more reform probably coming,” she said. “It’s urgent on one level, but at the same time, it’s just going to constantly be a work in progress.”

Several critics following the Sidewalk Toronto project said the most useful thing to come out of the whole process might be to spark a serious policy discussions, even if it means Sidewalk Labs becomes a lightning rod for criticism along the way.

However, Sidewalk Labs is likely an anomaly in the real development of smart cities. A single company doesn’t usually get to develop a sweeping master plan for a swath of prime real estate.

A normal smart city company might look more like Uber Technologies Inc., which started as a simple ride-sharing app, but has since expanded into a broad spectrum of urban transportation services: taxis, carpooling, electric bikes in some cities, Uber Eats food delivery and even a minibus service, which recently launched in Egypt.

Instead of being a planned, government-driven vision, Uber grew organically, sometimes clashing with governments that wanted to regulate the company.

Andrew Salzburg, Uber’s global head of Transportation Policy and Research, said Uber Pool is a good example of how the company was able to use its data and product delivery abilities to create a service that allows people to share rides when they’re going in the same direction.

“Data is part of it, but it’s also the whole platform, and the ability to handle millions of requests at the same time,” he said. “It’s actually very hard to get to scale and have enough people going in the same direction to then make it possible to offer a carpooling service.”

Uber has also launched a system called Uber Movement, which provides aggregated, anonymized data on travel times within urban centres, based on data pulled from millions of rides.

Salzburg said Movement is a bit of an olive branch to demonstrate the company is interesting in working cooperatively with municipal governments, instead of doing battle with them as it has in the past.

“Fundamentally, we built a layer technology to move riders around, move food around and for services,” he said. “But now that we have that in place, there’s an opportunity to go back to governments in cities of all sizes, and say, ‘Hey, what are the problems that people have been working on for a long time that technology can help solve?’”

It’s entirely possible that Sidewalk Labs is mired in controversy precisely because it is taking a more thoughtful approach, asking permission to build a smart city, whereas Uber is begging forgiveness for barging in and disrupting urban transportation after the fact.

But as the technology develops, organic, piece-by-piece urban innovation — by companies, services and tools such as Uber, Presto and Google Maps and Street View — will likely be far more important in shaping policy, data and governance in the future of cities.

from Financial Post http://bit.ly/2Gc96GQ via IFTTT Blogger Mortgage Tumblr Mortgage Evernote Mortgage Wordpress Mortgage href="https://www.diigo.com/user/gelsi11">Diigo Mortgage

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popculturecraziness · 5 years

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Top 10 of 2018

For the first time in a long time, I was able to have two feet on solid ground for an entire year. My personal life managed to avoid having grand tragedies for an entire year, and I finally found the sense of stability I was looking for.

As a result, it felt like I was finally able to enjoy watching movies in a way I couldn’t in previous years. It really made me aware of how half of the moviegoing experience is what you bring to it. Sometimes a movie reaches you, and sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes you watch something at a time when you shouldn’t and as a result it lands with a thud. Sometimes you watch something at the exact right moment and it hits a homerun. It’s impossible to watch every movie in ideal circumstances. It’s impossible to pretend that we did.

So I’m not going to pretend my Top 10 is filled with the objectively best films of 2018. I don’t know what that list would look like, or what it should be. I don’t think anyone does. Instead this list is one of the films that stuck with me the most throughout the year. The films that managed to make me think or smile or cry at a moment when I needed to think or smile or cry. They are the films that had the most value to me at the end of the year. I saw 190 new releases throughout 2018, and these are the ones that managed to connect with me the most. There’s something to that, I think. Or well, at least, I hope.

10. Game Night

I was having a tough time filling this spot on my list. In my head it became a slot for a movie I enjoyed but with some type of reservation. The one thing they all had in common was that they would make me feel smart for including it in my Top 10. Black Panther, Burning, If Beale Street Could Talk, Widows, The Favourite... all films that would certainly make me look like I understood the film year I was talking about. Look at me! I know what we are supposed to care about! I get it. And I probably could have written a good rundown of my enjoyment of each of those films if I wanted. “I liked it, with some reservations!” was certainly was the basis of my Top 10 of 2017 list.

However, while trolling through that tier of “I liked it, with some reservations!” films I saw my review of Game Night, and in what felt like a divine moment, I knew what was going to end up making the list. Game Night is an over the top comedy that was squarely aimed right at my heart from the moment the two leads met while playing bar trivia. Broad yet smart, willing to hide gags in its plot that I didn’t realize existed until months after and filled with top-notch comedic performances we should have talked about more (we failed you, Jesse Plemmons), Game Night is the type of film that lends itself to being rewatched time and time again when you’re having a bad day. It’s not fancy, but in it’s weird, “people getting sucked into planes” way it’s comforting. Movies like that matter just as much as the ones that make you feel like you are using your full IQ to understand. So thank you Game Night for the laughs.

9. Shoplifters

In what may be the biggest cinematic crime of 2018, my dad called me during the climatic scene of Shoplifters. He called me so much that he bypassed the Do Not Disturb function on my phone. Thinking it was an emergency, I stepped outside the theater to call my Dad and realize that he wanted help with his Roku (a machine I do not own) and that he needed help with picking a movie on Netflix (after six minutes, he finally went with the suggestion of Outlaw King).

It’s not very often that I get jealous of the critics who get screeners and get invited to screenings, who are able to make careers out of seeing everything and anything and figuring out what is worth other people’s time. But in that moment, I did. I wish I had the time and resources to go back and see the six minutes of Shoplifters I missed. I feel like I would be able to rank it much higher on this top ten if I did. Shoplifters is a gorgeous movie about what it means to be a family, and what we are willing to do to keep together as one. It’s emotional, it’s heartwrenching, but it’s always filled with love. I wish I could have seen the moments where the story reached its peaks, instead of standing outside, looking at a photo of Nicole Kidman in Destroyer while going through my Dad’s Netflix queue with him.

On the bright side, my dad did enjoy Outlaw King. So, at least one of us got something out of that phone call.

8. Wildlife

Finding yourself is one of the hardest things to do. It’s true if you are a young teen trying to make sense of who you are going to be. It’s true if you are a man who is trying to find a new career after years of thinking yourself to be something else. It’s true if you are a woman who thought of herself as a wife and mother and suddenly realized that there were other aspects of herself that were waiting to be explored. Finding yourself is hard. And it is an endless process.

Wildlife paints this truth in a lovely, understated way. Finding yourself isn’t as grand and lush as cinema usually presents it to be. Usually, it’s quiet and kind of messy. Usually, there are hurt people in your wake. Living your best life might lead to collateral damage to others. Wildlife manages to let this be a truth without letting it overwhelm you in sadness. It’s a minor miracle in that sense.

7. Cold War

My expectations were high for Cold War, and in some ways I left disappointed. It wasn’t the perfect, tragic love story I thought it was going to be. In particular, the beginning of the love story at its center was too opaque for my personal taste and the ending too on the nose.

However, I haven’t stopped thinking about Cold War since I left the theater. It’s the kind of film that stays in your mind, the kind that makes you want to read everything you can about what other people are saying about. Cold War is the film that revitalizes the inner film-lover in a person and that’s invaluable in a world filled with thousands of releases to sift through on a yearly basis.

And on a technical level? It’s perfect. It’s cinematography doesn’t waste a single shot. It’s soundtrack is perfectly compiled, with songs being rearranged and translated to let you know that the world is changing. It doesn’t dilly-dally between scenes and is willing to let less be more. Plus, it has the best coats you’ll see on screen all year! Maybe that doesn’t mean anything to you, but it means so much to me. A top ten worthy achievement, if you ask me.

6. What They Had

What They Had was saddled with the weirdest release schedule of any film I wanted to see all year. It was in and out of New York theaters in a blink of an eye, and I was lucky to be able to catch it when it randomly emerged at one of the New Jersey arthouses I frequent. I saw it in a theater without heat, and the fact that I didn’t feel like complaining about how cold I was while seeing it probably nominates it for conclusion on this top ten list all on its own.

What They Had has turned out to be a hidden gem of the 2018. A moving portrait of a family in various stages of crisis, who are trying to figure out the central crisis of the moment: what to do about the mother who is suffering from Alzheimer’s and the father who is unwilling to let her go and recognize the end of their love story. From top to bottom, What They Had boasts one of the best ensembles of the year. Robert Forrester especially manages to hit the exact right notes of a gruff father who doesn’t know how to handle that his personal world is ending.

What They Had was forgotten in theaters, but hopefully it is able to find an audience when it reaches streaming. It deserves one.

5. The Old Man & The Gun

The Old Man & The Gun is many things, but most strikingly, it is a tribute to the age of the movie star. We don’t have many of them left now. Famous actors are either rending their garments in a bid to gain awards, or signing up for whatever superhero movie will have them in a bid to gain money. There’s no more room for performances that get by on a twinkle in the eye and a suave set of charisma. Cinema doesn’t have a place for them anymore, and The Old Man & the Gun seems to recognize it while giving Robert Redford a swan song for the ages.

It’s a performance that’s going to be forgotten by most awards giving bodies, but it’s my favorite performance of the year easy. Redford charms and charms and charms and you can easily tell why so many bank tellers are willing to just give away their money to this man. He cons the audience just as well as he cons his marks. It’s not all just easy smiles and winning politeness though, Redford lets you know the depth that lurks beneath the surface. The trouble his character has letting his old life go, the trouble his character has doing anything else. It’s moving in a way that a film about a bunch of old bank robbers shouldn’t be.

There’s no greater character study in cinema this year. And no film had a more perfect ending in my estimation. I’m sad to see Robert Redford retire, but more importantly I’m sad that movies like this are becoming such a rarity.

4. Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse

Back in October, I was lucky enough to be at the NYCC panel where they screened the first 35 minutes of the film. And even though the animation wasn’t complete and even though I hadn’t seen the full story, even then I knew, that there was’t going to be a better animated film in 2018.

2018 in animation for the most part felt tiring. There were a lot of sequels that were generally good, but nothing awe-inspiring. There were a lot of dump-offs whose names I couldn’t remember if I tried. There was the problematic Isle of Dogs and the uninspired The Grinch. For the longest time I was worried that the genre was hitting a rough patch, happier to do what worked in the past than forge ahead and try new things.

Thankfully, Spider-man swooped in to save the day. The animation was inventive and bold and playful. The story was funny and heartfelt and fun. Everything about it felt fresh and exciting, and like a bold call to animation studios everywhere that more could be done with the medium. Spider-man: Into the Spiderverse was a reminder of why I love animation and why I love comics. It changed the game by going back to what was lovable about the mediums it was working from, and became the most fun film of the year in the process.

3. Can You Ever Forgive Me?

I hated all the parts of myself that I could see in Lee Israel. The loneliness. The sense that life owed you more than you were given. The belief that you deserved to be recognized more for how smart you are. It wasn’t close to being a mirror image, but it felt like a warning shot all the same: you could end up like this if you wanted to, you can see the ugliest parts of yourself become the most prominent.

Can You Ever Forgive Me? isn’t a comfortable movie to watch. It’s not one that leaves room for fuzzy feelings. It’s a film that rolls around in some of the ugliest of human emotions, but it’s a film that lets you understand where those emotions are coming from. It paints a full portrait of the criminal and her life, and in doing so lets you become empathetic to a character who may seem like the most loathsome of people. The thing that the film doesn’t let you forget though is that we all have that type of loathsome person within us, that we all can end up becoming our worst selves if we’re just as lonely and desperate. It has a beating heart underneath all the ugliness that I found impossible to resist.

2. Eighth Grade

I grew up in the millennial era, but there is so much about Eighth Grade that I found intensely relatable. All the scenes where Kayla spends minutes trying to get the perfect angle for her snapchat feed? I saw my Saturdays wasting millions of hours posing in front of my digital camera in a sad attempt to get the perfect Myspace photo. The scenes where Kayla awkwardly tries to fit in with friend groups and ends up striking out? I saw my one time valiantly trying to find a friend group of my own. The scene at the end where she talks to her dad wondering if he’s disappointed in her? It’s the kind of talk I always wish I did have with my dad.

Eighth Grade is every painful moment you remember living through when you were a young teen, and its a miracle it didn’t end up being the most miserable film of the year. Instead it finds the humanity in the humiliations, and the hope that lives at the end of the day. Maybe, your past was awkward and lonely but it doesn’t mean the future can’t be and it doesn’t mean you can’t find pride in yourself at the end of the day. The fact that Kayla is able to do that ends up being one of the most moving things I have scene at the movies this year.

1. Minding the Gap

I wasn’t expecting much from a documentary about skateboarders who board to escape their troubled home lives, especially after seeing the dreadful mid90s the week before. What I got was the biggest emotional catharsis of 2018, one that was so strong that I had to pause the movie and watch it over two days because I had just become so emotional.

I don’t have a ton in common with the subjects of Minding the Gap. I am a white female who grew up in the New Jersey suburbs. They are for the most part minority men who grew up in the Rust Belt. I wasn’t expecting to find much of a common ground with the film, but it ended up hitting on some hard truths I don’t like thinking about in my daily life. The way your parents shape you. How your parents can hurt you deeply, but you still love them anyway (even if it’s not the wisest thing). The worries that all you took from your parents are their worst qualities and how you won’t be able to avoid passing down similar hurts to the ones you love. And most importantly, the things we use to escape those fears. The hobbies and friendships that help us get through the day to day.

Watching Minding the Gap was like going to therapy in some ways, and it was proof that film has a way of unraveling in us the things we don’t want to face while letting us reach the emotional catharsises we need. It may seem like a throwaway documentary about skateboarding, but it’s the most essential film of the year to me. It still brings about a strong, pure emotional reaction when I think about it months later.

I didn’t know that was possible with film. But like with many things, I was proven wrong.

#top 10 #10 things...#by: kacey #year in review #minding the gap #eighth grade #can you ever forgive me?#spider-man: into the spiderverse #the old man and the gun #what they had #cold war #wildlife #shoplifters #game night

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