#i will have a whole chapter of my dissertation dedicated to this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fandomwave · 2 months

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Hey tumblr user @jesibeii, I couldn't heeeeelp but notice we miiiight have gotten off on the wrong foot concerning fandom and interaction and I just, you know, I was turning over what you said in my head for a while and I realized I wanted to come over and offer some brownies

I realized that I was being what the kids call "An Asshole" in my tags but I also wanted to at least provide some context on the matter, since you know when the poll came onto lawn I wasn't really in the frame of mind to give an entire dissertation on interactivity and contribution on the silly and cursed land that is fandom TM.

Sooo if you'll allow me, and honestly if you don't that's fine too, you can take the brownies and run. I just wanted to earnestly and kindly reach across the isle and examine some concepts.

Just know that in the end of this entire pop up ted talk I'm juggling in my arms with the plate of brownies, that I agree with you:

Fandom has no room for cops. You get to enjoy and do whatever the fuck you want in it. I did not, and do not ever want that to change. Even if the landscape becomes something I don't recognize.

This is gonna get uh, long in the tooth, so I'm just gonna imagine you have one of those lovely porch swings with some bright yellow pillows.

OK LETS GO:

Comfy? Good good ok cool so I'm gonna use your fandom as a springboard because WHOO BOY did BNHA used to be my Jam for a while!

My favorite character is Shinso by the way! I was up to the Chisaki arc in the anime but eventually dropped off, and I was up to chapter uuuh, 350-ish in the manga??? It gets a little blurry from my memory and I'll admit I got a little Tired towards the end before I dropped off there too.

So I think we're on the same page when it comes to passive interaction when it comes to fan-made art! You don't have to have even a remote understanding of the original context to want to enjoy the transformative works that people make

Anyways I wanted to at least start off saying that I do agree in that you don't have to Go Here to enjoy the things fandom creates.

I myself had a laughable amount of Omori fanart before I ever realized there was a game.

And I think I would have been pretty irritated if someone told me that I couldn't look at it or enjoy it for it's composition or color use or emotional resonance because I hadn't sat down to play the game.

You're right, I would be irked as fuck if I went to a public library to read The Chronicles of Narnia and someone griped at me the whole time that I wasn't reading the Bibble

Here's where I get a little confused, and again, PLEASE keep in mind, it is a silly place here, fandom, and my confusion is not condemnation.

Lets say, again using BNHA as the core example here, that I found a fic for Denki/Deku. The person who wrote it made Denki into this really complex and nuanced character. In the fic they mentioned that him and his father had a falling out, mostly because his father was worried that with a kid like him, and his poor grades, he would never be able to cut it at UA.

Deku and him bond over the fact that both of their parents worry for the right reasons about their attendance at UA, and there's even a bit of a grit between the two of them because Denki can't match up to Deku's raw talent, even if he keeps hurting himself over and over for the lack of control, that he wants to prove he can be just as useful, and they have to learn how to navigate that together. Maybe Denki comes to defend Deku more when his quirk hurts him and understands where that comes from given the fact his own causes his brain to short after he pushes himself too hard.

Man there's an ENTIRE chapter dedicated to Denki showing off his lightning points and how he can throw his electricity even further, and Deku gets inspired by the concept, maybe altering his costume altogether to help launch rebar polls to launch off of to move faster in combat!

And I'm enthralled by this, I think that Denki is the best character and I'm so thrilled to get to know this character in canon!

Only to find out he has like, maybe 2 major arcs and is kind of just a gag character.

Or, another example, because lets be real, a large portion of folk characterize Bakugo as nothing more than a mindless abuser. If I only read the most popular fic, I might come to hate this dude.

People mischaracterize Deku all the time as uwu wubby soft boy, and I might be really turned away and think the whole series really IS a waste of time if these characters are as dumb as they are..

To me anyways, fandom is an extrapolation of the source. Without the source, there is no fandom.

And because it's an extrapolation, it's like a photocopy. Every photocopy has some loss from the original. Artistic Telephone if you will. All fandom art that is made and shared is usually transformative in some way from the original which is fantastic!

I think that's why fandom is as weird and silly and stupid as it is, it by it's very nature really can't be taken seriously because it's all just interpretation and speculation and extrapolation on something none of us even own.

I ADORE the idea of someone giving Denki a full fucking realized character in comparison to the original, and hell if I like the work well enough I might magpie some ideas and add it to my own works!

So there is where my example, inflammatory as it was, comes in:

Since fanart and fanfic is an extrapolation of root work, how would someone know if the characterization of someone, or something, be accurate if they've never engaged with the original.

If someone reads a fic (the first extrapolation) where Bakugo is a huge asshole.

Then writes their own fic (the second extrapolation) where Bakugo is a whole new level of monster..

But doesn't know that Bakugo is more.. of an emotionally constipated edge lord..

I think that's where my disconnect and confusion comes from is the idea of loving a work and not having any sort of compass for the 'They Would Not Fucking Say That' radar.

I'm listening to someone's dissertation only to learn in the end that they've never studied the topic.

And I mean, lets be real here, if someone wrote a whole academic essay and I couldn't tell OP never cracked open the source material than like, GOOD ON THEM for logical assumptions and characterization! Insane work that they could interoperate flawlessly from someone else's interpretation.

And to this end, as with all things, someone could name Denki's fucking bloodtype from memory, know the manga by heart and which studio animated specific scenes from the anime, and still turn him into the worst reduction of his tropes in their works. Don't get me wrong knowing the source material doesn't automatically make you a better creator than those who don't

I think the only thing it DOES do is make you a more informed one.

Maybe this also comes from me being uh, how you say, ancient. When women in fic were reduced down to their worst elements. Usually there to be homophobic to whatever slash ship was popular at the time, or just generally horrible. Like imagine if someone did Uraraka dirty in a fic and without any context, any root to check the notes against, you just thought she was Like That.

Not to say they aren't even now. Trust me I have Seen Some Shiiit. But it used to be the default, and canon was a good way to check is that was accurate or not (spoilers it usually wasn't)

So why this big annoying essay? I dunno man, fandom is weird and silly and shouldn't be taken seriously but I also think it's fun to understand people and also get further context in the ways we see things. I wanted to explain myself in a way that wasn't some one liner reddit quip, and I genuinely DID feel really bad making you feel something intense enough to leave the tags, and in all honestly they weren't even that mean aha. If this weird little subculture is gonna survive the corporatization of it's space, the old guard and new guard and everyone in between should help to understand one another as best we can :3

In the end, you're still right.

I should be on my own lawn right now, being unbothered and minding my own business. I hope you don't feel like you're being put on the defense or that I'm trying to be antagonistic here.

This is, an actually earnest means to come across the fence and at least kinda chat about perspectives, how I think active fandom engagement can be skewed without core context, and how passive fandom engagement doesn't require an SAT test on core context. And how yeah, at the end of the day it doesn't matter because fandom is a silly place.

It's just silly. No one should be taking it seriously. If I read a fic from someone who took the worst read on a character they've never engaged with on it's source, but it brought them the most amount of joy in the world to write it, who am I to stop them or to care.

I can find it as confusing as I want, it doesn't matter.

Oh shit I think your sprinklers are coming on, yeah, oh fuck all the flowcharts I brought are just.. getting drenched. You know you can keep the plate btw, I don't really wanna wash it.

Ok I gotta grab these papers before they melt all over lawn

BTW Idk if you drew it or not but ur icon is very cute!

OK BYE

#Hi this is not a hostile post I swear to you I just dont know when to shut up and leave well enough alone I am SO sorry #edited to change Denji to Denki because i am a soft braind idiot

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raraeavesmoriendi · 2 years

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so my options for this year are as follows:

- don’t work remotely, spend most of my time in a poorly ventilated room in the basement with over thirty people, many of whom will probably not be wearing masks bc they didn’t wear them to begin with but definitely won’t now that where I work has apparently lifted most if not all of their pandemic protocol entirely.

tradeoff: have an actual sense of schedule and structure, possibly better mental health, actually interact with people IRL and remember how to be a Regular Human Person since my major social support system has moved away entirely. potentially risk getting infected with either c19 or monkeypox, but I just live with my cat so it’s not like I run the risk of spreading it to a whole household, and I haven’t caught either yet (to my knowledge) so my immune system is still in decent shape. my friend who also taught remote said that her mental health did bounce back when she taught in person for a bit last year, and she’s immunocompromised and managed to avoid infection with a strict mask policy.

...still. that was pre-monkey pox.

- petition my supervisor and the ADA office to let me continue to work remotely from home, as I have been doing for the last few years (and have gotten pretty good at if my feedback at the end of each semester is anything to go by). a whole room in my house is already devoted to this, so there wouldn’t be anything I’d need to convert/change etc.

tradeoff: don’t have to face the campus commute (which can be challenging due to my wake-up cycle and my time blindness even when I’m medicated), don’t have to carry bleach wipes to clean my work area/bus seats/anything with, don’t have to potentially trigger a contagion-OCD episode, can continue to dedicate my days to writing my prospectus (and then my first diss chapter) without distraction. however, again, all my friends have moved, so by avoiding contact with campus I just potentially stand to isolate myself further and still have to face another year of this alone after this one, when the dissertation phase starts to get really stressful if my other friend’s experience is anything to go by.

fuck, the semester hasn’t even started and I’m already. just, like... tired. :/

#and then rarae says #rarae is a grad student sometimes #this blows this blows this BLOWS #but I genuinely don't know which is going to hit me harder: being sick or being a shut-in #fuck me I hate this #and the more I try to choose the more I wanna cry bc it just feels impossible either way

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missameliep · 3 years

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SECOND CHANCES - CHAPTER TWENTY ONE: LOST IN TRANSLATION

Book: Desire and Decorum – Modern AU Rating: Teen and Up Word count: ~4K Summary: Elizabeth and Hamid spend a lovely evening together watching a Turkish series and learn more about each other's cultures (which includes a thoroughly lesson on memes), and sometimes misunderstandings happen for reasons other than language barriers. Characters: Elizabeth Foredale (OC); Prince Hamid.

Notes: * All characters belong to Pixelberry, except OC. * Non-English words and expressions are translated in the notes in the end of the chapter. * English is not my first language. * This chapter has been forever on my drafts and I want to dedicate it to my dear friend @lorirwritesfanfic. Lori not only is a Hamid fan and so supportive of my writing, but also can understand how some things can only be properly expressed in our own native language.

This is my late submission to @choicesmonthlychallenge - Day 26- Misunderstanding. Thanks for hosting it @lovealexhunt!

Returning from the kitchen, carrying the largest of the bowls filled to the brim with popcorn, Hamid stopped and leaned against the doorframe to appreciate which has become his favourite sight in the whole city.

Illuminated by the soft glow of the tele, Elizabeth was comfortably sitting cross-legged on the couch, her entire attention devoted to the Turkish series full of drama and mystery that once was his sisters’ favourite. The green eyes of hers – the ones that are coloured by the most beautiful shades of green, speckles of caramel and all the gold and brightness she must have stolen from the sun itself –, were fixed at the tele with absorbed attention, while a hand idly caressed the cat’s head resting on her leg.

Sensing how oblivious to his stare she is, he lingers by the door just a little more. A silent contemplation. His gaze is one of non-sexual admiration, a friendly stare even one might say – though he cannot deny that sometimes it takes a mere sight of the contour of her neck, the parted lips calling his name or a glimpse of the roundness of her derrière or her small breasts hugged by the layers of clothes to change that in a second –, but mostly, his gaze carries the amazement of her presence there. In his living room of all places.

The first time she came over is still fresh in his memory.

That fortuitous evening, Elizabeth was about to leave the office and was texting with Hamid while waiting for the lift. When asked about her plans for the evening, she vented about not being thrilled to have another dinner with her grandmother and Henrietta without her father being present.

“Then come here”, he texted, “Have dinner with me.”

The app showed Elizabeth was typing and typing. For an awfully long moment no message arrived, and he was certain she would decline with a careful and politely written message. But then just one small and most unexpected word was sent: “Okay.”

Not soon enough, she was standing outside his door, cheeks coloured by coyness in the most alluring hue of pink and a shy smile that morphed into one of genuine gratitude when he told she was welcomed to join him whenever her father would be working late, or she just wanted company.

“I don’t want to impose… You have your own things to do…” she said then, but he insisted it would be not an inconvenience. “I’m inviting, Liz.”

With a smile, she changed the subject, and, at first, he considered she would not accept the offer. However, taking him by surprise, two days later she returned and had a book with her. After they had dinner, they sat together on the couch, she read the book for her class the next day, and he worked on a chapter of his dissertation. The next time, they watched a movie together. Then a few episodes of a series filled the silence during the next visit while both typed in their respective notebooks. At ten o’clock sharp, she’d get up and say goodbye and he wished she could stay longer. Actually, he wished she wouldn’t leave at all.

Tonight, they had Italian for dinner from the place she likes, talked, laughed and for the past hours were watching an episode of the Turkish series. Despite the similar routine, something was quite different...

Unlike other times, it is a quarter to 10pm and Elizabeth did not object the idea of popcorn and remained comfortably sitting in his couch. Perhaps she lost track of time, since it seems she’s enjoying the series, possibly already captivated by the leading man as his sisters Faiza and Hande once were; or, he dares think, perhaps, she has not lost track of time and just needs a little bit more of that serene atmosphere. If that’s the case, a sense of pride will inflate his ego to be the one able to provide her a safe haven – though, Hamid is yet to learn that sometimes a person’s safe haven is another person, and not a place.

It is undeniable how relaxed Elizabeth is; after each visit, the more at ease, the more at home she seems. Alone in his flat and away from her family and the strict rules that guide her life, she just hangs there not minding about the appropriate etiquette, whether it is eating take away food straight from the boxes or getting cat hair all over the dark and elegant tweed trouser she sports these days.

Practiced hands moved up and the long chocolate brown hair fell down, while Elizabeth’s fingers loosened the strands that have been tied up in a high curly ponytail the entire day. Her head swivelled a little from side to side while her fingers worked. Entranced, he took a deep breath while his eyes followed her every move.

The carefully styled hair, buns and braids look nice on her, but her long hair, untamed and falling down her shoulders is his favourite presentation. Elizabeth never looks more beautiful. Or maybe she can. There are a few images of how even more alluring she can look that inhabit his mind and would definitely cause her to blush more than ever if only she knew... Grinning to himself, he wishes his fingers could delve into those curls… the sensation of his fingers entangling on the hair of the back of her head before pulling her for a kiss. A gentle and long kiss. Or perhaps a long and passionate one, that would leave them both breathless.

As if feeling his stare or drawn by the smell of popcorn that filled the flat, she pulled her hair to the side and looked over her shoulder directly at him and smiled, one of those slow spontaneous smiles that curl the corners of her mouth, rounding her cheeks.

Noticing the contemplative look on his face, Elizabeth asked softly to not startle him, “Something wrong, Hamid?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then why are you standing there? Are you eating all that popcorn alone?”

“My plan all along!”

Teasingly, he shoved a handful in his mouth to her amusement. Then, with long strides he crosses the distance to the couch and offers the bow. While one of her hands fishes a handful of popcorn, the other supports the bowl, the tips of her fingers brush his, and his intense gaze remains on her face.

“Thanks,” she said softly, eyes fixed on his, and Hamid replies with a smile of his own and only when he returns to his seat beside her, they break eye contact.

Stretching his legs, he let his socked feet rest on the coffee table, and his head leans back. His eyes at the same level of hers. Elizabeth inhales deeply. As a safety measure, places the bowl right in between them, not trusting herself; and he observes her hand sinking again. To occupy herself, she takes one popcorn at a time to her mouth and munches it.

Blues eyes fluttering open, Princess Leia stirred and lifted her pink nose to sniff the air around. Anticipating what she’d do, Hamid’s hand was already between her and the bowl, blocking the access. The cat moved around and tried to reach it again, and meowed when he chided her in Turkish, as he ordinarily does, since for some unexplainable reason it seems the cat understands better the words uttered in the tongue of their native country – or perhaps it just feels comfortable the idea of someone understanding him unequivocally, even if it is a cat.

To Leia’s utter outrage, Hamid picked the bowl up, placing it on his lap, and the cat jumped to the floor. Rubbing up against Elizabeth’s legs, the cat purred and flicked her tail. The woman scratched the cat’s head and smiled to herself.

Her eyes met Hamid’s and she pointed at the cat.

“Do you hear that?” And by that she meant the purring loudly and rhythmically like a small well-oiled engine, that he could hear from his seat.

“She adores me,” she mouthed, while caressing the cat’s head, who leaned against her leg and rested at her feet.

“I buy you presents, offer my hospitality, order the dishes you like only to find out you’re coming here exclusively for my cat…” he said with a frown, pretending to be hurt.

“I already said you better not think about this, Hamid. I don’t think you can’t handle the truth,” she teased and poked his side, “And the zombie costume was a cheap shot.”

Disappointed for not getting a sample of the food the humans were having, the cat moved away, disappearing into the hallway and Elizabeth’s attention returned to the screen. Gasping, she covered her mouth with the free hand when the group of girls was surprised by the arrival of an unknown character. Amused, Hamid gazed at her instead of the screen. Her reactions are adorable.

Tilting her face slightly at him, but still focused on the subtitles on the tele, she asked him, “It’s odd how they meet, isn’t it? Eren and Asli, I mean. Too much of a coincidence, right?”

“Are you looking for spoilers, Liz?”

Surprised, her face turned completely in his direction. “I thought you haven’t watched the series...”

“I haven’t. But my sisters made it impossible to ignore the plot...”

“Then you know if there is something wrong with how they met, right?”

“Are you asking for spoilers again?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Because last time, you got upset with me...”

“No… I just wanted to talk about what’s going on… and the theories I have…”

“Alright. Perhaps a chance meeting is just that: chance,” he mused.

“Is it?”

Arm on the back of the couch, he propped his face on one hand and looked at her. “What do you think?”

The intensity of his gaze focusing on her and nothing else, as if the world just ceased to exist, caused a rush of blood to flow to her face, making her awfully conscious of the way her heartbeat sped up. Elizabeth averted her eyes, turning her attention back to the tele, and said softly, “I think that you are making me lose the dialogues on purpose and not giving me valuable information…”

Hamid chuckled and they went quiet for a moment, the dialogues from the protagonists filling the room once more. Instead of the tele, his eyes trained on her, but more discreetly now, as she softly repeated random words from the characters’ dialogues, which made him smile.

“What is this word they keep saying? Sounds like tá bom[1].”

“Tamam?[2]”

She nodded, and he explained it is like okay or alright.

“Are you interested in learning Turkish? I would be more than happy to teach you.”

“Maybe in the future...” she sighed. “Right now, I feel my brain reached its maximum capacity and might shut down any minute now…”

“I doubt that…” he said, and leaned forward, tucking a few curls behind her ear to have a better look at her face while addressing her. “That beautiful and wonderful brain of yours can accomplish anything.” One of his charming smiles curling his lips and causing his eyes to blink, even in the darkened room.

“Flatterer,” she breathed, wishing he would fail to notice the warmth in her cheek or how the smallest of his gestures affect her. “But thanks for complimenting my mind, anyway.”

“So, speaking about learning languages… When are we having our next Portuguese class?”

“Whenever you like.”

Reaching for the remote, he pressed pause and took a chance, “How about now?”

“Sure, I need a break after that scene… Is that creepy guy A?”

He chuckled. “You’ll find out eventually…”

“Okay. Is every chapter like this?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s only the beginning of the second chapter and so many things happened!”

“Don’t expect anyone to take a week to prepare coffee. It's very different from American soap operas.”

“The pacing is nothing like our novelas[3] either...”

Elizabeth placed the bowl with the remaining popcorn over the coffee table, took a sip of the half-full glass of water, and turned around, crossing her legs to face her friend.

“So, I already taught you some of the basics...”

“Como você está, linda?[4]” he says, stressing the sibilant S she taught; and the additional flavour in the end he taught himself that brought a timid smile to her lips.

Hamid then repeated a few more short sentences and expressions and finished with his favourite. “E aí, beleza?[5]”

“You’re speaking autêntico carioquês.[6]” She giggled. “But this is super informal. Never use in work related situations...”

“And here I was planning to greet the Brazilian ambassador like this next time we meet...”

They laughed together.

“What do you want to learn now?”

“Let’s move to something more advanced and culturally interesting…” he hummed, pretending to think. “Teach me some curse words!”

“But you don’t even curse, Hamid!”

“In English. The words are too bland for me... Nothing like the Turkish swearing. Or Russian. Such a colourful language, so many places where things can be shoved...”

“Oh.” Her lips rounded with surprise, and she looked down at her hands. “That’s quite a revelation… I would’ve never guessed it.”

“I can curse in twelve languages if I ever feel the need.”

“Twelve?” she echoed, and he nodded amused. “Why? Why would you even –” she stopped herself, and tried to make her point, “I mean, you’re always so cool, so relaxed… Why would you even curse?”

“Plenty of reasons. If I hit my little toe on the corner of a furniture, for instance.”

“Understandable,” she giggled at his impression of a painful grimace.

“Whenever I’m driving at Istanbul.”

“If it is as bad as in Rio, I cannot blame you if you do.”

“It’s probably worse,” Hamid replied, “You’ll see it when we go there…”

“Alright.”

“And football!” Hamid threw his hands up in mock indignation. “How can one team lose so many opportunities to score?” When she laughed, he shook his head and mentioned for the tenth time his frustration with Fenerbahçe’s latest match.

“Doesn’t your mother tongue offer you enough swear words for those very specific occasions?”

“Swearing is part of the culture too. Maybe just as rich and colourful as gastronomy,” he winks at her, and she shakes her head slowly.

“But why Portuguese? Aren’t you already stocked up?” she teased.

“How will I know if you’re muttering profanities under your breath?”

“You know I do not curse.”

“You keep saying that… yet you cursed when we met.”

A mischievous grin parted his lips, and she frowned in consideration, then hit by the memory and the realization he definitely understood her that day, her lips parted but no sound left her mouth for a moment.

“That was my sleep deprived brain, not the regular one, Hamid,” she explained and muttered the last part, “and it was barely a curse anyway.”

“Then teach me a good one!”

“Hamid!”

“Please. Only one. The rudest one. The one that makes your cheeks go red just by thinking of it.”

Noticing the way she paused, he pointed at her.

“That one!”

“Absolutely not!”

“My door is locked, Liz. Your grandmother won’t storm in and show up behind you. And, if she does, you’ll have bigger issues than the swearing part. I assure you.”

They laughed until almost losing their breaths, making fun of Lady Dominique’s rule against bad language and her possible reaction at her granddaughter teaching curse words to a friend. When the laughter subsided, she tucked her hair beside her ears and looked at him meeting his expectant expression.

A mischievous smile on her lips, when she spoke again. “My answer is still no.”

“Should we discuss the implications of you not sharing your knowledge with me and how you could leave me in a vulnerable situation? What if when I go to Rio with you, I do not understand if someone swears at my face?”

“Dude, why would someone do that?” Her eyes widened at him, and his hands and shoulders raised. “Oh, my god! Are you assuming Brazilian people are rude?”

“Never. But perhaps someone could be envious of my gorgeous tour guide,” he flashed one of his winning smiles and she gasped for air when she realised what he was implying. They never discussed the idea of travelling together to her home country, but he entertains the idea since they met. And Elizabeth has entertained the thought too but will not admit out loud. At least not yet. “I believe I should be prepared if something like that happens.”

“You can google it.”

“Why would I, if I have a native speaker right beside me?”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna help expanding your cursing vocabulary.”

“But how will I know if they’re the current ones? Or the most offensive? Or the appropriate choice? I don’t want any misunderstanding…”

“Hamid, if you’re throwing curses at random strangers,” she chuckled, “I think you are way past the misunderstanding stage…”

“What about outdated curses? I don’t want to sound old-fashioned and uncool.”

“Outdated? I don’t believe that’s a thing, Hamid…” she pondered, “Just pick one and you’ll be fine… Besides, I can teach something much more valuable than that. Something that speaks very intimately about the culture and the soul of the Brazilians.”

His eyes sparkled when they darted to meet hers. Her offer certainly piqued his interest.

“What could be that much interesting?”

“Memes.”

He frowned in confusion. “You’re joking?”

“To understand Brazilians, you must know that humour is an important part of the culture. And very few things are off limits when it comes to what one will make fun of. And memes are a very serious thing. Trust me.”

“Alright. Teach me.”

For the next several minutes, she babbled, showed him memes on her mobile and they laughed to the verge of tears. Sometimes, his laughter was prompted more by the amusement of his teacher than by the memes, since some were too hard to be explained or maybe only resonated with someone who had the same experiences as Elizabeth.

“Okay, the confused woman I get it; and the one about the 7x1 I can also understand, but who is this woman? And why are there so many memes with her?” he frowned looking at another picture of the singer Gretchen. “I don’t follow.”

“She’s the Queen of Internet.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It’s self-explanatory, Hamid,” she shrugged, smiling at his confused expression.

“Believe me, it’s not,” he chuckled.

“It’s funny. Gretchen is a whole mood.”

He gave in and stared at the memes she sent him.

Hamid, as a foreigner, could not comprehend it all, but he could not deny how fascinated he was – though, perhaps most of the fascination was stirred by Elizabeth rather than whatever she could teach or show him.

“Portuguese has some fun expressions,” he pointed out, and she taught him more about slangs and showed a few more memes.

“A meme museum?” he inspected the website on his mobile after she’s sent the link. “I would never have guessed…”

“Like I said, memes are a serious business.”

“I can finally see that.”

Hamid smiled when Elizabeth leaned her head against his arm snickering and pushed the phone closer to his face to show another meme.

“Liz, that’s an unhealthy number of cat memes you have there!” he teased taking a closer look. “Are those French?” he asked touching the screen and zooming the next images on the gallery.

“I have some in Japanese too. Wanna see it?” Her fingers already touching the screen before he could reply.

“Why? You don’t speak Japanese!”

“They’re cute! Look at this chubby cat on the box!”

“This could mean anything,” he said taking a closer look at the image. “Maybe it’s highly offensive...”

She hummed, pondering for a second, and smiled at the phone. “Are there Turkish cat memes? Maybe I’ll collect them from now on, and you can translate for me...”

“Unhealthy.” He snatched the mobile from her hand. “Please stop it!”

Squealing, she threw herself at him to retrieve the mobile from his hand, and he raised his arm keeping it out of her reach. Laughing, she stretched her arm too and tried to grab it one more time. Teasingly, he passed the mobile from a hand to the other, moving it further away, and she moved in closer. Closer. Then, too close. One of his arms encircled her waist to prevent her from getting up, and she was almost on his lap. Her curls touched his face, and the sweet scent of her hair invaded his nostrils. As if spellbound, he leaned forward delighting on it and ignoring his previous task to keep the mobile away. His arm and will surrendered to her touch when her small hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled it down.

Unaware of the effect she has on him, sporting a victorious smile, Elizabeth pulled away laughing, the kind of irresistible joy that lights up her entire face, and pressed the device against her chest.

“Hey! É pra isso que eu pago internet, meu bem![7]” she quoted one famous Brazilian expression, and he looked at her mesmerized. The hair falling to her face and the tip of her tongue between her teeth.

Hamid did not laugh at the joke as she expected, because he never even heard it. Inside his mind a single thought existed: to pull her back and dip his head to kiss her.

The smile on her face slowly erased as she took in the way he was looking at her. She opened her mouth to ask, but her phone buzzed several times in her hand silencing her and breaking his haze.

Clearing his throat from the impolite words that were bubbling, he straightened himself, and plastered a smile.

“Your grandmother must’ve sensed you are being unrefined, Miss Foredale…” he teased.

“It’s not grandma,” she said peeking at the screen and checked the several incoming messages. “It’s Briar. She’s got guy’s problems and needs to talk ASAP…”

Getting up, he picked the bowl from the coffee table. “Call her, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“I’ll call her when I get home,” she said while typing on the mobile. “It’s late and this might take a long while. So, I better get home to my beauty sleep and leave you to yours.”

When he got back from the kitchen, Elizabeth was no longer typing, and he recognized the moment he never looks forward had arrived.

“Just let me grab my coat. I’ll walk you home, Liz.”

“Thank you for offering, but it’s late and freezing out there.”

“Believe me, it’s not.”

“I texted the driver. If he cannot pick me up, I can call a cab.”

He followed while she crossed the distance to the closet, mulling over the words of his conversation with Yusuf and Bartholomew.

Noticing his presence, she shot a glance at him over her shoulder, throwing him a shy smile while putting on her coat. Her hand pulls the hair to the side first, then the zipper all the way up to her neck. The tip of his tongue moist his lips, while he chews on an idea. Perhaps, it was time to bring up the subject and try to ask her.

“Can I ask you one last thing before you go?”

“I will not teach you any swear words,” she informed, looking up and revealing the open smile curling her lips.

“No, it’s not that,” he chuckled, and licked his lips again, watching her bending down to pick up her boots. “Liz, I need a perspective on something… Let’s say I am utterly and completely enchanted by a particular woman, and I wish to tell her how I feel but somehow I get tongue-tied around her and never know if it is alright to say something –”

Oh, my god! Is he asking me advice on asking someone else out? I’m so not doing this!

Hastily, she stood up holding the pair of boots already prepared to run away in her socks. The loud crashing thump of her forehead bumping against the closet shelf followed by the dull sound of the boots hitting the ground startled them both. While Hamid went silent, Elizabeth’s mouth released a painful moan, and her hand covered the injured forehead.

When his lips moved again, he muttered under his breath the same swearing he shouted when Antalyasporscored against Fenerbahçe, and his hands went up to his head, while he crossed the small distance separating them in the blink of an eye.

Hamid approached her, his large hands moved to the sides of her face, and she flinched. “You are hurt! Let me see it!” The softness of his tone and of his hand over hers, and the soothing words that followed convinced her to move the hand away. Gently, he pushed back the hair failing to her face, and examined the reddened area.

Looking up, she followed his fingers and when he had no more questions, her eyes fixed on his, not missing the frown between his eyebrows.

“How bad?” she questioned.

Holding her face in his hands, his expression relaxed with the perspective that she’s not dizzy and smiled warmly. He said with a note of relief, “Good news. You’re not bleeding. But it might leave a very unattractive bump. How are you feeling?”

“It was nothing,” she shrugged off his concerns and escaped his gentle grip. Rubbing her forehead, the tip of her fingers traced the hollow left by the corner of the shelf, and she grimaced.

Despite himself, he smiled at her reaction, once more trying to put on a brave face in front of him.

“Another good news. Your grandmother would be proud of your profanity free tongue.”

“I only sworn mentally. But I admit now it would be a good time to know some of those Turkish swearing you mentioned and shout them inside my head.”

He chuckled. “You can start with lanet olsun[8]. It’s good to express anger. I can teach you more later...”

“Lanet olsun!” she hissed at the shelf, releasing this anguish bubbling inside her chest for a completely different reason.

“Feeling better?”

“A little.”

He put an arm around her shoulders, and said softly, “Now, come. I’ll get you some ice.”

“No, it’s alright!” She winced and remained in the same place. “I’ll put some at home.”

“It'll be no trouble at all, canim[9].”

There was so much certainty in her words and a bit of annoyance in her tone when she refused again, that Hamid did not insist. He picked up the boots scattered on the ground and handed it to her.

With a quick hug, and a soft kiss on her forehead, that sent a shiver down Elizabeth’s spine, they parted.

With a click, the door closed behind his back and Hamid face-palmed himself, and the back of his head bumped against the wood with a dull sound. He did not notice when the footsteps halted outside and changed direction.

“Hamid, are you still there?” Elizabeth whispered from the other side, hoping there would not be an answer.

“Yes!” he almost shouted startled to hear her voice.

“Be honest about your feelings.”

While the words sunk in, he heard the steps moving away from the door again and he quickly unlocked it just in time to see her pressing the lift button again.

“What was that?”

“The answer to your question.”

“My question?” he repeated after her.

“How you say it is not important. Any woman will be lucky to have you saying it.”

The lift door opened, and she waved at his disconcerted self standing in his socks in the middle of the hallway. “See you Friday at Edgewater.”

With that she got on the lift for good.

Her words brought a wide smile to his lips, one that almost reached his ears, and it took all his willpower not to scream a praise to Allah from the top of his lungs. But due to politeness and not wanting to disturb his neighbours, he refrained from doing so, and ran inside the flat.

Inside the lift, however, there was no smile in Elizabeth’s lips. In fact, her lips pressed into the thinnest line. Hastily, the back of her hand rubbed one eye then the other, trying to fight the tears clouding her vision, while she felt like drowning on the bitterness pooling inside her mouth. Being a loyal friend should not hurt like that, but somehow the ache in her stomach was worse than bumping her head on that shelf.

-----------------------------------------

Notes:

[1] ‘Tá bom – Portuguese expression that can be translated as it’s okay, alright. [2] Tamam – Turkish word that can be translated as okay. [3] Novelas – Portuguese word – in this case it refers to the telenovelas or soap operas from Brazil. [4] “Como você está, linda?” – Portuguese – “How are you, beautiful?” [5] “E aí, beleza?” – Portuguese – “Hey, what’s up?” [6] Autêntico carioquês – Portuguese – Elizabeth is refering to the stereotypical way people born in the city of Rio de Janeiro, called cariocas, would speak and that Hamid could pass by an authentic one. [7] “Hey! É pra isso que eu pago internet, meu bem!” – Portuguese – “Hey! That’s why I pay internet for, honey!”Antalyaspor and Fenerbahçe are Turkish soccer teams. [8] Lanet olsun – Turkish expression that can be translated as damn it, cursed be, etc. [9] Canim – Turkish – term of endearment meaning “my dear”.

#desire and decorum #prince hamid #hamid x oc #playchoices fanfic #choices july challenge 2021 #choices monthly challenge #desire and decorum modern au #desire & decorum

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cancerbiophd · 4 years

Text

PhD Dissertation Masterpost of Advice and Resources*

*or at least what helped me when I was writing mine for a PhD in Cancer Biology in the US--so they may not apply to other fields and/or countries.

Firstly, what a PhD Dissertation and Defense process is like (for my program)

Always check your university’s graduate college’s dissertation formatting and guidelines. That should be your #1 rulebook to work off of. Download their formatting guide and read it thoroughly. Before turning in your dissertation, make sure you’ve addressed all the requirements.

Get a sample from a previous student as reference, preferably one from your program, or even better, your lab. All dissertations are publicly available online at your university’s library (with the exception of those with embargoes). Always have an example on hand--you never know when it’ll come in handy for minor formatting details, or even references (if it’s a dissertation from your own lab).

Familiarize yourself with whatever writing program you’re going to use, and if it can do any of the formatting automatically for you. For example, Microsoft Word can make a Table of Contents for you if you use their Automated Styles, and you can use the Navigation Pane to view all your sections at a glance (and jump instantly to that section). I highly recommend figuring out all the formatting before you start writing, as it may be really frustrating to go back and fix things (especially if you’re doing this on the due date). Scroll down to the end of this post for formatting resources.

I think the ideal timeline is one month per chapter, give or take a few weeks depending on how much you have done beforehand and how much time you have per day to allocate to writing. There will be a lot of back-and-forth edits with your advisor, you may find out there are missing data that need analyzing/finalizing, etc. Your last month or so of writing may have to be dedicated 100% to your dissertation, so plan accordingly. I have heard many PhD’s tell me to even start a year out, because you may be busy your last couple of months with job interviews, or even starting your new job, etc.

Export your images as .png if possible or your document will become too large.

Use a citation manager, if you don’t have one already, such as Mendeley.

Also have a way to keep track what each reference is about, especially for the Introduction as that may require some new additions (ie. things you learned in class or lab meeting but never actually had to chase down a primary reference for). You can use Excel, Word, or good ol’ fashioned printouts in subject binders--anything that helps you remember what the paper is about what. I ended up citing over 400 references in my dissertation--that was a lot of papers to keep track of!

As with any large writing project, make an outline first. This way you can better structure everything from a bird’s eye view, and make sure you’re not missing anything. Just like building a house, you need to set up the frames first before the drywall. The outline to my Introduction was 5 pages long before I even wrote the first complete sentence, and the outline also helped me not feel too overwhelmed with the task before me (likewise, I also started off each paragraph with a brief outline of the points I wanted to cover. It worked really well in getting rid of writer’s block)

Have a separate folder for each chapter, to keep things better organized and easier to manage. I didn’t put everything together in a single file until the very end.

And always back up your files, or work entirely off a Cloud-based system, like Dropbox or Box (which your university may provide for free). There’s absolutely nothing worse than losing allll your hard work, especially your Dissertation!

Set aside at least 1 hour before your Dissertation is due to your committee for last minute issues, like formatting, uploading, etc.

If you’re in the Bio field, I highly recommend making your figures using Biorender.com. It honestly saved me so much time, and it took my dissertation and defense to a whole new level of professionalism. It’s free to use for students, though the paid student version ($35/mo) has more features.

Links to other resources:

University of Michigan guide for using Microsoft Word for Dissertations

Dissertation templates (with build-in-instructions) from Duke University (scroll down to end of page) (thanks @conquerorwurm for this one)

Making an outline from Sacred Heart University

More about making an outline for Dissertations

Other tips on surviving this challenging time:

Write smart, not hard. Use your energy and creativity levels wisely. For example, I found out I was really great at synthesizing thoughts (and thus words on the document) in the morning, but not so much at night. So I did most of my writing in the morning, and then reserved evenings for making figures and adding references (aka things that required less brain-energy).

Take breaks! This is definitely a marathon, so please try not to push yourself too hard to prevent burning out. Here’s what my writing schedule looked like 1 week before my dissertation was due to my committee--you can see I worked hard, but I also had lots of breaks throughout the day to eat and/or recharge, and I tried to sleep 7-8 hrs/night.

The moment you think you can’t do something alone, seek out a resource that will help you. There’s no time or energy to waste. Resources include: your advisor, another lab member, a university writing center, online tutorials, even other grad students on tumblr. No one else has written a dissertation on their own, so you shouldn’t have to either.

Have a support system, like another fellow student going through something similar who you can talk to. It helps so much to not be lonely during this.

Have something fun planned after you turn in your dissertation and after you defend to look forward to. Sometimes all that was left to get me through the tough and frustrating moments was the thought of all my plans post-defense: going to my favorite used bookstore, reading for fun again, relaxing and watching movies, and more. Small things, but oh so powerful to keep me going sometimes.

You will get through this. I know it’s hard. I know how close to tears you are. But I also know you will survive. Remember all those tough times in the past? Like when you were studying for your qualifying exams? Or writing and re-writing that grant application for what seemed like the 500th time? Those were some tough times, but you got through them all. And so you will also get through this.

And lastly, but probably most importantly:

Do what works for you. You haven’t made it this far in your academic career without a solid understanding of your own working style, so stick to that. My advice is just what happened to work for me, personally, and thus may not apply to anyone else.

Good luck, and congratulations, soon-to-be Dr!

#grad advice #writing advice

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librarycards · 3 years

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Hi! I've really appreciated reading your views on the education system and higher education in general, and I don't exactly have a question about that but I guess I am asking for some tips on reading dense academic text. basically I desperately want to consume this book called Authoring Autism, by Melanie Yegeau published in 2018 but it feels so inaccessible to me as someone who hasn't attended college and learned how to read shit like that. it's about neuroqueerness and neurodivergence as an---

identity presented in a queer theory framework and seems like something that would really be up my alley as a queer/trans autistic person and I guess I'm just pissed that it feels hard. do you have any tips on learning how to read academic text and actually stay interested and enjoy it while readily absorbing the knowledge therein? maybe this is a big ask and not something you really have an answer to, but I'm still curious as to your thoughts on it! thx for reading!

hey! this is a really good question, and you’re right that i don’t have one right answer for you, but i can try to give some of the advice that worked for me.

first off, on academic texts and specifically on the yergeau, which i’ve read & adore –– they’re often hard, and authoring autism is dense; this stuff is harder when you aren’t practiced in engaging these type of texts. this is actually my first recommendation –– practice! the *only* reason i feel accustomed to spending time with dense scholarly work is because i’ve done it a ton of times before and i have a plan. there are definitely different degrees of difficulty in various texts, too; you, for example, might want to start with liat ben-moshe or margaret price in terms of Mad/critical ND studies, as i think both are easier accesspoints than yergeau’s highly specific (and also largely unfamiliar to me) rhetoric studies language.

but, yeah. practice! it’s helpful on several levels to start with the seminal texts, not least because there’s also a ton of work by other people elucidating them, and often study guides and questions to help you figure out what’s going on. for example, i’m in a reading group tackling the entirety of Capital this term, which is incredibly challenging for someone (me) unfamiliar with economic theory -- luckily, there are a ton of study guides out there, lectures, videos, and more experienced people in the group to explain terms to me, and i find myself better and better able to understand Marx through all these different interlocutors. even “in my field,” like, you’d best believe i’m reading derrida with at least 3 other tabs open at any given time to cross-check and make sure i’m Getting It.

also, there’s the fact that yergeau themself is building on multiple traditions, but especially w/in queer theory –– these are way easier to get and get through quickly having built up knowledge of heavy hitters like butler, foucault, sedgwick, halberstam (who is cancelled but unfortunately still important in the field), and others. i know some professors of queer studies/gender studies have syllabi up online for intro courses, i’d check out some of those, as well as the bibliography of Authoring Autism, for an idea of who you can read with before turning back to yergeau.

reading shorter chapters, essays, and articles feels more doable in one go than a whole book, and you have a better sense early on of what an argument is going to be (check the abstract and the end of the intro for a “roadmap”). from here, it might be easier to work up to an entire work. with whole books, especially if the topic is unfamiliar, spend a lot of time with the intro, take notes on the structure and organization of the book, the methodology, the examples the author notes from the jump, the terminology they lead with -- taking notes in general is CRUCIAL imo, and having a little base of keywords and ideas to move through the rest of the chapters with is so helpful. also, the intro will have a little summary of every chapter as well as the main argument of the text, which is helpful if you feel lost anywhere in the middle. remember that most of these academic books are composites: they’re built out of dissertations and collections of papers and presentations first given separately. they’re bound for a reason, but can usually be read as standalones.

so we have practicing, chunking, and note-taking so far. i’d also go a step further with the note-taking: a helpful assignment i’ve had in the past is to write a precís, or a general summation of what a text is about, what is it doing, what arguments the author is making, etc, for a given book. these are no more than a paragraph or two. i believe in the saying that “if you can teach it, then you really know it,” and that principle also works for the precís -- if you can get a book down to its bare necessities, it means you really know what it’s doing. think after each chapter you read, could i write a precís on this? can i use 5-7 sentences to sum up what the author is doing? if it feels jumbled, go back to your notes, go back to your highlighted sections, and try again –– and remember that every time you re-read is NOT (NOT!!!!!!!!!!! EVER!!!!!!!) a sign of incompetence, but rather a dedication to the author’s work and a respect for their time and knowledge.

i really want to stress that. struggle, reengagement, rereading, changing perspective....these are very, very good things. necessary. it is completely normal and healthy to have a hard time with scholarly work, even work about one’s own experience. contrary to what a lot of people assume, just because a book is in [ x ] studies doesn’t mean [ x ] is going to understand it; this often comes as a rude awakening when people enter queer studies classes believing it to be an easy A simply because they also happen to be queer. these fields are built on decades / centuries of intellectual tradition that no one inherently Knows, any more than being part of a lineage means you know every single person in your family. what really matters here is a curiosity and dedication to take up a text day after day with the same critical, compassionate eye with which you took up the project of neuroqueer self-determination that brought you here.

lastly, relatedly (and most challengingly for me): accept that you’re never going to understand 100% of anything, ever. as a professor of mine says, give up the patriarchal, colonial desire to “master” a text, to make it submit to you its full, transparent meaning. not only is it not going to happen, but it’s a violent relationship to have with knowledge, both to yourself and your “object.” learning is a lifelong process (hence the importance of re-reading) and Authoring Autism, etc. will stick around regardless of when you’re able to tackle it and in what capacity. i definitely relate to the anger and frustration at feeling “incompetent” in the face of a difficult text, but i try to reframe it as an opportunity to learn, like i’m on a new date and listening to someone tell me about their life for the first time. i won’t get it all on the first try but if it catches my interest, i’ll stick around.

idk if any of this was helpful, and please feel free to message with any other qs, i’m really really really really passionate about ensuring scholarly work is available to those outside the academy & that everyone has the opportunity to engage with it so please consider me a resource in all regards!!

#ask #mosslibrary #ref #academia

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Not Nineteen Forever (20) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex) - Ortega

a/n: hey hey! thank u so much if u gave a lil note or sent a bit of love my way for ch19. it was really my fav to write so far so i’m so glad it resonated with at least somebody!! there is only one more chapter to this whole fic after this and i’m emosh. after the rollercoaster ride we’ve all been on, i hope u enjoy this fun lil chapter as much as i loved writing it!

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: Brooke, Nina, Silky and Vanjie were locked in the library, and Brooke and Vanessa finally talked things out like adults.

this chapter: exams are over, dissertations are submitted, degree classifications are being allocated and the girls are nervously waiting for adult life to hit them like a freight train. what better way to avoid thinking about responsibilities than to go to the beach?

***

The day had started, as most of Scarlet’s days often do, with a message to the group chat.

Well, no, that was a bit of a lie. Scarlet’s day had started with her making breakfast, talking to her Mums over facetime as she ate it, and reassuring them that no, she hadn’t found out her degree classification yet and when she did they’d be the first to know. It was hard beginning each day with her heart in her mouth, frantically checking her phone to see if the website had been updated and then trying to relax when she found out it hadn’t been. Scarlet tried not to think too much about it, post-Uni life that is, but with each passing day it became an unignorable fact that she had to face. Graduation season was a mere month away and Scarlet didn’t want to face it but she had to, because the reality was that Scarlet didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life. Not a single clue. Gone were the days of six-year-old Scarlet, who spent the mornings being an actress with a short break at lunchtime to develop her career in the veterinary sector and finishing the day off creating new play-dough recipes for her Michelin-star restaurant. High school had been so good at pushing everyone into a university-shaped mold but now that Scarlet had completed her three years there she felt a little like the aquarium fish in Finding Nemo once they had escaped their glass box: stuck in a plastic bag bubble, thrown out into the vast, unexplored ocean, and simply asking herself now what? Really, what could she do with a Philosophy degree? Everyone asked her the same question when she’d been making her UCAS choices and now here she was asking herself the same thing. She wished she could remember what 18-year-old Scarlet had replied. Her Mums had been surprisingly supportive of the whole endeavour, but then again they had probably been happy to have their pouty, whining teenage daughter out of the house. Funny how times change, Scarlet thought to herself as she squeezed a generous dollop of washing-up liquid onto the sponge and dunked her empty plate into the hot water she’d filled the sink with. Her Mums had just been on the phone encouraging Scarlet to move back home while she decided on what to do next. It was tempting, but the prospect of being back in the country all isolated and away from her friends and Yvie and the exciting busy-ness of the city didn’t exactly fill Scarlet with glee.

Hearing her phone buzz against the counter, Scarlet almost smashed her newly-dried plate in her haste to read the notification just in case it was an email about her classification. It wasn’t. It was, however, a message from the girls. Nina, to be precise.

Kim Kardashian-West: GUYS it’s meant to be the SUNNIEST day today and Monet’s flat are all going to the beach!!! we should all go too!

Scarlet frowned, looking at the decidedly grey sky. It didn’t exactly inspire much hope.

Yvie’s bitch: Are you sure you’re reading the forecast for today? It looks a bit grey outside xxxx

Kim Kardashian-West: Scarlet I’m a primary teacher. A basic knowledge of the days of the week are kind of an entry level requirement

cursed SatNav voice: Am I FUCK going to sit freezing my ass off on the sand watching the rain piss down all around me!!

cursed SatNav voice: If i wanted to get soaked I would just call Brooke xoxo

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: No.

cursed SatNav voice: Ain’t that right @Brooke Lynn Hytes

Maple Syrup: you know it bby xoxo

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: Hell. I’m in hell.

Scarlet snorted a laugh. Akeria could well have been joking or deadly serious. Looking up and out of the tiny little window that was positioned beside the sink, Scarlet swore she could see a small ray of sunshine fighting through the clouds. She tilted her head, considering Nina’s offer.

Okay Then: yes i am absolutely down to get blackout day drunk today

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: Bitch it’s 11am who hurt you

Okay Then: listen this is perhaps the only time of our lives where we have literally no responsibilities at all. i’m getting drunk

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: I sent off nine masters’ applications yesterday.

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: No responsibilities my ass

Okay Then: well as huge as it is, i’m sure even it could use a little sun xo

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: WHY ARE YOU HOES ALL SO SENSIBLE AND GLOOMY? I’M WITH PLASTIQUE LET’S GO GET DRUNK

Maple Syrup: Ooooh now you mention it a fruity cider would go down so well right now

Yvie’s bitch: Yeah go on then, I’m down!! Xxxxxxx

Scarlet’s bitch: Scarlet it’s literally 13 degrees outside you’re insane

Scarlet’s bitch: but admittedly you are also my girlfriend who i love very much

large incongruous silkworm spiced praline: EW

Scarlet’s bitch: so if you’re down i’m down

Akeria Sainsbury’s Bag for Life: UGH fine i’ll go if all you idiots are too

Kim Kardashian-West: AAAH you guys this makes me so HAPPY!!!

Kim Kardashian-West: We only need Vanjie for a full house

Maple Syrup: Vanjie if you come I’ll let you suck my dick

cursed SatNav voice: How big is it

Maple Syrup: 2.75 inches when fully erect

Maple Syrup: Invisible to the human eye when flaccid

cursed SatNav voice: Hard pass

Scarlet’s bitch: Jesus Harvey Christ

cursed SatNav voice: But you bitches convinced me so i’m in

It turned out that most of the girls were still in their pyjamas, much like Scarlet, so they were given an hour to shower and make their way there. They were lucky that the city sat on the coast, and although much of the coastline was dedicated to harbours and pebble beaches there was one little beautiful strip of sand that lay about a half-hour bus ride out to the suburbs. Yvie and Brooke were getting a lift from Plastique and so they offered the last seat to Scarlet, but Scarlet didn’t want to take the girls out of their way. Besides, the sun was peeking out a little stronger now, and if it was to fully appear then it would be perfect weather for earphones, a summer playlist, and looking out of a bus window pretending she was in a music video.

Stepping outside of her flat, Scarlet was glad she’d ended up choosing dungaree shorts and a plain white t-shirt. It was definitely warmer than it looked, and she had to sweep her hair up into a ponytail to stop her neck getting too hot. She stopped off at the corner shop for a four-pack of cider (Brooke’s message had made her want some) and then walked over to the bus stop, where she managed to get one after not too long of a wait and sat on the top deck, letting the growing rays of sun fry her through the window. Once she was off the bus, she checked her phone for the meetup point. Nina, Monet and her flatmates were sat on the sand “around 10 metres in front of the chippy. But Monet has no concept of measurement so it’s anyone’s guess, really.”. Scarlet didn’t mind a small walk to find them. The promenade was packed with people all dressed in Summer clothes, the pavement giving off that smell of hot gravel which always reminded Scarlet of hot days and happy memories. The platinum-white sun cast its rays over the deep blue of the sea so that little diamonds sparkled against the waves, all tumbling over each other lazily and every so often giving a satisfying crash which mingled with the sounds of dogs barking and children giving happy cries. Scarlet found the chip shop but couldn’t see the girls amongst the mass of bodies laid out on the golden sand, so she shot Nina a text. As she waited for a reply, Scarlet took a deep breath and was hit with the unmistakable smell of the sea and chippy batter combining at once. She was a Winter person- she preferred frosty mornings and dark twinkly nights and getting cosy with a searing hot coffee and her duvet, but she loved how happy Summer seemed to make everyone, the sense of community that came with a hot, sunny day. Once Nina had given the other landmark of “there’s a guy with an inflatable sofa to our immediate right”, Scarlet managed to find the girls with no trouble and she was soon dashing towards them excitedly and letting out an embarrassingly childish squeal as she reached Nina and crashed into her in a hug.

“Scarlet!” she greeted her cheerfully, much of her face obscured by a huge floppy woven sunhat. Breaking out of the hug, she turned to address Monet’s flatmates. “Guys, you remember Scarlet, right?”

There was a chorus of welcoming noises as the other girls greeted her, some more distractedly than others. Cracker was busy rubbing her arm with a thick streak of white sunblock which seemed to have the same consistency as double cream, Bob was laid out against a bright pink beach towel with a set of huge sunglasses over her eyes, and Monique was trying her best to remove the cork from a bottle of cava. Monet was by Nina’s side, her head resting against her girlfriend’s shoulder as she stretched her legs out and buried her feet in the sand.

“Hey, congrats for finishing uni, Miss Scarlet,” Monet smiled at her, Scarlet smiling back despite the fact she was being reminded of adult life hurtling towards her like a bullet train.

“Thanks! Congrats to you both too. How does it feel to have an actual certified genius for a girlfriend?”

“Like I’m horrifically inferior and will never amount to anything.”

“Shut up!” Nina battered her on the arm, outraged as Monet and Scarlet shared a laugh. Nina had received a mark of 95 on her dissertation, a number that the girls had considered impossible to attain at university, but Nina had managed it. It was quite revolutionary as far as undergrad research went; a study into how well-prepared teachers felt to support transgender children in schools, with recommendations as to how to do just that within its conclusion and a call for councils to give further money and resources to the cause. “Your diss was amazing as well.”

“Yeah, what do you mean that more research into ability groupings in maths isn’t groundbreaking?” Monet rolled her eyes, laughing again as Nina protested.

“Who knew so much effort went into a primary teaching degree? I always thought your dissertation would be to…I don’t know, write a children’s book, or make a picture out of pasta spirals and glitter, or create a nursery rhyme or something,” Cracker piped up, Bob giving a snort beside her. Monet looked ready to defend her degree angrily when Nina sat up straight and fixed Cracker with an intrigued look.

“Oh, a nursery rhyme? Like…there was a young girl named Cracker, who was an incredible slacker. Her degree was dumb, so she tried to make fun, of her friends who decided to smack her.”

Scarlet let out a screech, as did Monique and Bob. Cracker could only burst out laughing and throw her hands up in defeat as Monet grabbed Nina’s face and pressed an emphatic kiss to her girlfriend’s cheek.

“Oh my fucking God, babe, I love you so much,” she laughed, wiping away a tear of mirth from her eye.

“Love you too!” Nina smiled happily, just as Monique finally got the cork out of the bottle with a satisfying, hollow pop.

“Aw, you hoes got champagne on arrival? How fancy.”

The girls turned around at the familiar voice to find Silky, Akeria and Vanjie all making their way towards them from the promenade. Excited again, Scarlet ran to hug them, namely Vanjie who she hadn’t seen since their final exam. They hadn’t spent too much time together but it had been enough time for Vanessa to elaborate on the story she’d told the girls in the group chat of how she, Silky, Brooke and Nina had all somehow been locked in the library overnight. Scarlet knew that had had something to do with the fact that she and Brooke were friends again. She didn’t know whether they’d fucked their frustrations out or actually talked like adults, but whatever they’d done Scarlet was glad about it. Whether or not they were reconnecting with a view to getting back together or not, Vanessa and Brooke were back to flirting on the group chat like high schoolers, and all was back to normal.

“Right, who’s wanting some of this? I’m not sure I got enough for everyone, though,” Monique asked loudly. Scarlet didn’t miss the way Vanessa stayed silent as the other girls clamoured for some fizz. She knew Vanjie had broken things off with Monique, whatever “things” were, and Scarlet somehow didn’t think she was enjoying being on the other side of a breakup much either.

“Did you even bring cups?” Bob asked, sitting up and quirking an eyebrow at her flatmate. Monique groaned.

“Ah, fuck, cups.”

“You absolute idiot sandwich,” Cracker rolled her eyes at her. Her eyes darted quickly to Vanessa before she stood up and grabbed her purse from her backpack. “C’mon. I’ll come to the shops with you and we can get some.”

The two girls walked away as Silky, Akeria and Vanessa all laid out what looked to be a duvet cover that they’d brought with them in lieu of a towel or blanket. Scarlet didn’t even think to question it. She knew it had been Silky’s idea without needing to ask.

“I feel like a dick,” Vanessa jerked a thumb towards Monique’s retreating frame.

“Don’t,” Monet and Bob said in unison, Nina letting out a small laugh.

“Y’all are The Shining levels of creepy,” Akeria frowned, digging out three huge bottles of beer from a shopping bag and giving one to each of her flatmates.

“Well, we’re right! You were friends with benefits, everyone knew that. It’s not Monique’s fault she caught feels but it sure as hell ain’t yours either,” Bob shrugged, ever the blunt but honest friend.

“So what is going on with you and Brooke now?” Monet asked, leaning forward and propping herself up on her elbows. Vanessa fixed her with an unimpressed look.

“Gee Monet, whatever happened to so how’ve you guys been, or how was exams, or literally any other small talk?”

“Yeah, and whatever happened to it’s none of our business?” Nina side-eyed her girlfriend disapprovingly.

“Well, girl! We’ve been in dissertation hell for a month and a half. Shit kinda got boring,” Monet shrugged semi-apologetically. “Anyway Vanjie, Monique’s away and Brooke’s not here yet and I doubt you want to talk about it when either of those two are here in front of you? And I’ve been trying to grill Neens about it but she keeps using lame excuses like we shouldn’t be getting involved and shouldn’t you be thinking about your classroom, so c’mon, bitch, spill.”

Vanessa smiled slightly, gesturing as if it was obvious. “Well, she knows I love her. And she loves me.”

Monet let out an “aaw!” at the same time Akeria let out an “ugh”. Vanjie ignored them both and continued.

“But she hurt me, so I ain’t lettin’ her get back in my good books that easy. Of course I wanna be with her, more than anything else in the world, but we need to get that trust back before I even entertain the idea.”

“So have you…y’know…had any kinky, passionate reunion sex yet?” Monet winked at her. Vanessa looked at her flatmates, a humoured smile playing on her lips.

“Akeria’s threatened to kick me out the flat if I even so much as think about it.”

The girls howled with laughter as Akeria tried to suppress a smile. “She thinks I’m joking.”

“I really don’t,” Vanjie raised her eyebrows at her, Akeria playfully shoving her onto the fluffy sand beside her and causing her to get it all up her side. “God fucking damnit, now I don’t even get to look nice when she arrives.”

“Oh, here she comes now, actually,” Silky said, nonplussed. Vanessa scowled at her.

“Quit playin’.”

Scarlet followed Silky’s gaze. “No, Vanj, she actually is.”

As Vanessa muttered a shit, Scarlet waved excitedly at Plastique, Brooke and Yvie, smiling when the latter pulled a goofy face and waved back. Plastique seemed to be carrying something huge and wooden underneath her arm.

“Lord Jesus, what the hell is she doing,” Silky shook her head as the girls came closer into view. Scarlet jumped up happily to hug her girlfriend, Brooke muttered a soft hey as she sat down next to Vanjie and hugged her, and Plastique, after she’d greeted the others, unfolded a multicoloured striped deckchair.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Scarlet let out a laugh, unsure whether to be impressed or exasperated by Plastique’s levels of extra.

“What?! It’s a sunny day, we’re at the beach, this is literally what deckchairs are for! Have fun getting sand in every possible orifice, losers,” she stuck out her tongue at them as she sat back and gave a happy sigh.

“Ariel not joining us today?” Nina asked.

“Nah, she’s gone home to see her parents. Why the hell you’d want to go home now when you could be dragging out your last month of uni life is totally beyond me, but hey.”

Yvie gave a deep laugh. “Plastique, your family have a townhouse in London, a chalet in Chamonix with membership to a private ski resort, and a literal penthouse in Dubai with an outdoor pool on a balcony. Why the fuck are you here?”

The girls all exploded with laughter, even Plastique conceding with a smile and a self-aware shrug that she was a rich bitch.

“Hey, I’m moving back in after graduation and won’t see you guys for ages, let me enjoy your shitty company.”

“You could fly us all out,” Brooke smiled hopefully, cracking the top off her bottle of cider with her keys.

“Yeah, lemme borrow twenty grand off my Mum real quick,” Plastique snorted sardonically.

Bob reached across to Monique’s cava, giving a small sip. “I’m moving home too. Gotta save money.”

“At least you both know what you’re doing,” Scarlet rolled her eyes, trying not to sound too bitter and accidentally just coming out with the verbal equivalent of black coffee. Luckily, Brooke held out her bottle and nodded emphatically.

“We can’t all have Akeria’s serial-killer levels of ambition or just walk into a job like Monet and Nina.”

“Hey! It’s a probationary year that we could literally fail if we screw up, stop thinking we have things easy,” Nina protested.

“How could you possibly fail being a teacher unless you literally boot a child in the face?” Yvie laughed in disbelief. Seeing Monet and Nina gearing themselves up for a verbal sparring match, she gesticulated wildly. “I’m kidding, ladies, I’m kidding! You work very hard and kids are little shits and you don’t get paid enough. Happy?”

“Very,” Monet rolled her eyes, accepting the cava that Bob held out to her and taking a swig before passing it to Nina.

“What’re you guys doing after uni?” Bob asked, then instantly cringed hearing the groans she got in response. “Sorry, sorry, I forgot that question is basically Satan incarnate.”

“Well, I applied to a bunch of newspapers. But the journalism industry is a shitshow anyway, so fuck knows what I’m doing or if they’ll even accept me,” Silky sighed. Her mood was decidedly flat. It was rare for her to be anything other than high-energy, volume turned all the way up to 100.

“Well, your classification might help!” Bob said comfortingly. Scarlet looked at Silky to gauge her reaction. She didn’t know if she’d been given hers yet, but the girl’s embarrassed face soon gave her an answer.

“Well I got a 2:2, so. Probably not,” she shrugged, Bob trying to backtrack apologetically. Scarlet felt bad for Silky. There was nothing wrong with a 2:2 and a degree was still a degree, but she knew how much Silky believed that despite her grades not being great, she’d still pull it out of the bag in the end, maybe manage one essay that pulled her marks up. Even though the girls were all still proud of her, it was another thing for her to let herself down.

“We’re still proud of you, Silky. You worked fucking hard and you got your degree, and that’s something to celebrate,” Nina smiled affirmingly, holding the cava out for Silky to drink. She smiled gratefully at the girls around her before accepting.

“Thanks, ladies,” she said quietly, before taking a swig. The cava seemed to return Silky back to normal, and she cried out after drinking. “An’ besides! 2:1s are boring anyway. Go hard or go home, bitch, and I’m goin’ the fuck home!”

The girls indulged Silky in a laugh. They sat for a while, chatting easily and passing the bottle of cava around, the lack of cups now not so much of a problem as it had seemed previously.

“Hey, anyone want a paddle?” Brooke asked suddenly. Scarlet gave a snort of outrage.

“You’re insane. That water’s got to be minus five.”

“Oh, come on! It’ll be fun! Vanj?” Brooke asked, her voice hopeful. Vanessa shrugged easily, casting the girl a quick smile and then dragging Akeria and Silky to their feet.

“To be fair, I am getting really warm. Getting my feet cold might be nice,” Nina reasoned out loud. Monet jumped up with her cheerfully. “Yvie, you coming?”

“Nah. Think I’ll stay here with my girl,” Yvie squeezed Scarlet’s hand, Scarlet smiling back at her happily.

“Awww, Yvie! You’re too cute,” Plastique cried sarcastically from her deckchair, the other girls laughing. She was too busy sunbathing to paddle, but Bob decided she’d follow Monet’s lead and join the others in the water. Scarlet laughed as she watched her friends tear down to the sea like children, the white spray flying into the air as they all hit the water at once.

“We’re friends with actual kids,” Yvie laughed, Scarlet nodding in agreement.

“God, we really are,” she smiled affectionately, watching Akeria take a step into the sea then jump back as if it was made of molten lava and not freezing cold water. Just as the girls had left, Scarlet became aware of two sets of footsteps approaching behind them. It was Cracker and Monique, back from the shops with a plastic bag twirling around Monique’s hand.

“Hey,” Scarlet greeted them cheerfully, then added, by way of explanation, “They’ve gone into the sea.”

“Oh, fun!” Cracker beamed. Monique picked up the bottle of cava and rolled her eyes. There was a shot-sized dribble at the bottom.

“You sons of bitches are nothing if not predictable,” she laughed, fishing a brand new bottle out of the plastic bag along with a set of cups. Yvie held her hands out apologetically and Monique shook her head, letting her know all was forgiven. Scarlet looked out to the water again. Bob had Monet on her back and Vanessa was leaping on Brooke’s, Brooke unable to catch her from the amount she was laughing. It looked as if they were about to do some sort of race or fight. Vanessa finally got onto Brooke’s back, her arms looping around her shoulders like a bush baby.

“So. That’s that then,” Monique gave a little sigh as she looked out to sea. Scarlet did a double-take as she looked at her. Her expression was mostly hidden behind her huge mirrored sunglasses, but Scarlet could see the small frown on her face. She knew who her gaze had fallen on. Scarlet felt bad for the girl.

“Hey, don’t take it personally. Vanjie thought you were great, she really did. She told me all the time,” Scarlet said reassuringly, Monique giving her a little smile of gratitude. “You know that way when you’re still hung up on someone you love. That’s all it is.”

Monique rubbed her arms, wrapping them around herself in a hug. “My own damn fault for catchin’ feelings.”

“Happens to the best of us, girl,” Yvie piped up. Cracker smiled at the pair of them gratefully, squeezing Monique’s shoulder supportively.

“We’ve been trying to tell her that.”

Monique laughed suddenly as she saw Silky chasing the girls with a huge, slimy-looking clump of seaweed she’d fished out of the water. The smile remained on her face as her laughter died down and she looked at Scarlet and Yvie inquisitively. “Brooke’s gonna treat her nice, right?”

Scarlet thought about Brooke’s helplessness after her and Akeria’s birthday weekend, her heartbroken confession of love in the toilets of the grubby karaoke bar. She watched how tightly Brooke was holding Vanessa on her back, as if to let go of her would be a crime. Scarlet smiled at Monique. “She will. I know she will.”

Seemingly satisfied, Monique kicked her sandals off and turned to Cracker. “You wanna go paddle?”

“Girl, I thought you’d never ask.”

Scarlet was satisfied staying with Yvie on the sand. They turned to Plastique only to find her napping in her deckchair, her skin beginning to take on an ever-so-slightly pink hue. Deciding to avoid Plastique’s potential wrath if they woke her up, Monique and Cracker dashed down to the ocean to join the other girls. Scarlet sat quietly with Yvie for a moment, taking in the scene of their friends all clowning around in the water.

“You still looking for jobs?” Yvie asked her. Scarlet sighed. She didn’t mind talking about post-uni life with Yvie, didn’t mind being honest about how scared and unsure she was with the person who loved her and she loved back.

“Yeah. It’s hard applying without my classification, though. And, I guess, even harder when you’ve got no idea what the hell you want to do with your life.”

Scarlet gave a self-deprecating laugh which Yvie gently joined in with. Yvie laced her fingers around Scarlet’s and gave her hand a squeeze. “You’ll figure it out, babe. There’s no time pressure on these things.”

“I know. It’s just hard when…hell, you’ve got Monet and Nina about to start their entire careers. I mean they’ll be in charge of a whole class of kids. Akeria knows what she wants to do and she’ll get there. Hell, even if Silky’s classification wasn’t as good as she wanted it, journalism is at least something she wants to go into. And Vanjie’s decided on events management. You know you want to at least do something with criminology,” Scarlet sighed, suddenly feeling so small. “It’s so hard trying to figure out what you want to do with your life when everyone around you seems to know. How the hell are you meant to know yourself?”

“Listen,” Yvie brought her thumb up to stroke Scarlet’s knuckle, calming her instantly by about 80%. “The great thing about your life is that…it’s yours. Nobody else’s. Just yours. Say you decide on a job and you hate it. Do you think you have to stay because the pay’s good and it’s something steady? No! You leave, because you can get another job. You don’t like it? You change. You want to go back to uni to doss about for another year? Do it! There is no rule to life that says you need to live it a certain way. And fuck yes, it’s scary! I’m scared! I don’t know if I’ll like any of the jobs I’m applying for, they could be so different in reality to what they are on paper. But you know I’ll support you whatever you decide.”

Scarlet’s voice was quiet as she watched the waves crash around her friends. “I just don’t want to disappoint my parents.”

“Scarlet, your parents love you unconditionally. And I’ll say it again- it’s your life. Yours. Not theirs. You can do whatever the hell you want to.”

Scarlet nodded, Yvie’s words a small comfort to her in the world that now seemed so big and scary. Yvie’s voice was quieter as she spoke again. “So…you’re going to live back home once all this is over?”

“I guess so. I don’t really want to, but I don’t want to live alone either. And it’ll help me save money, although if I don’t have a job I guess there’s not much money to save,” Scarlet snorted a laugh. She didn’t want to think about any of this, but Yvie was asking her so she gave an honest answer. Scarlet didn’t miss the way her girlfriend fell silent, nodding her head, a sad little frown on her face. She didn’t want to move away from Yvie. She didn’t want to return home. Yvie was her home.

Suddenly there came a splash from the water and Scarlet’s gaze was jolted away from her girlfriend and down to the sea. Silky had somehow fallen into the water and the girls were all howling with mirth as she screeched and tried to splash them all. Scarlet couldn’t help but join in with the laughter as she watched Akeria help fish Silky out of the water, the girl sitting in the wet sand and laughing so loudly that Scarlet could hear it even from farther up the beach. As Scarlet composed herself and her laughter died down, she turned to see Yvie looking at her, a dopey little smile on her face.

“What?” Scarlet laughed, touching her hair self-consciously. Yvie looked down at the sand, then back up to meet her eyes.

“Move in with me. After we graduate.”

Scarlet’s eyes grew suddenly wide in shock. Yvie was still holding her hand and Scarlet’s grip on hers had tightened. “Really?”

Yvie’s face was earnest, and Scarlet could see her gulp as she nodded quickly. She took a little gasp of air before explaining herself. “I mean, we both already basically live together. You’re at mine so often anyway, we know what we’re like to live with. We’ve not spent more than a full week apart since…fuck, I don’t know. I would do long distance for you, Scarlet, but I don’t want to. I want to go to IKEA and build flat pack furniture and make slow cooker casseroles and fucking…pay council tax with you. I hope you don’t…think I’m being too intense. Jesus, we’ve not even been together a year, fuck, sorry, this was a shit idea-”

“Well when you know, you know, right?” Scarlet smiled at her girlfriend, squeezing her hand. Yvie smiled back at her, reassured and happy, and Scarlet could hear the seagulls in the air and the crash of the waves and the laughter of their friends. She wouldn’t have had any other soundtrack to accompany the moment. “Yes. I’m in. Let’s get a flat together. Just the two of us. I don’t know what the fuck I want to do with my life, but I know it’s going to be a lot easier if I’m doing it with you.”

Relieved, Yvie leaned in and met Scarlet’s lips, kissing her once, twice, three times before pulling away and squeezing her hand. They met each other’s eyes and smiled, breathlessly giggling a little. Deciding to move in together didn’t seem to be the huge, relationship-changing milestone that society had hyped it up to be. It made sense to Scarlet: they loved each other, enjoyed the other’s company, they’d practically lived together for the past however-many-months. Okay, they hadn’t really hit any real speed bumps in their relationship really, but Scarlet trusted Yvie and she trusted herself. They were a team, two puzzle pieces that fit together. Whatever the crazy, scary, mixed-up adult world had in store for them after graduation, they would face it together.

Just then, Scarlet’s phone vibrated. She picked it up from its place underneath a carefully-folded corner of her towel. Opening it and reading the email, her heart dropped.

“Oh my God,” she said, her heart thudding uncontrollably.

“What’s the matter?”

“My classification’s through.”

Scarlet’s fingers were shaking and her palms were sweating as she frantically logged onto the uni’s intranet.

“Breathe. Just breathe. It’ll be fine,” Yvie reassured her, but Scarlet could feel her blood racing in her veins. She didn’t want to look. She did want to look. As the page loaded, she squeezed her eyes shut. Nothing had ever seemed so catastrophically life-defining before. The page loaded, Scarlet blinked, then she screamed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Plastique flinch in her deckchair. Yvie’s face was expectant. Scarlet could hardly get the words out.

“A FIRST, I GOT A FUCKING FIRST!” she screeched, Yvie practically tackling her into the sand as she hugged her. Scarlet felt like her heart was about to burst. The three years had all been worth it and she felt like the biggest weight and worry in the world was finally lifted off of her. This was, admittedly, contrasted with the feeling of Plastique piling herself on top of the two girls, screaming excitedly the whole time. Scarlet suddenly batted them off of her, grabbing their hands and tugging them towards the shore.

“I wanna run into the sea! Can we run into the sea and tell the girls?”

Nodding excitedly, the three friends tore towards the coastline screeching like banshees. Scarlet could feel the wind in her hair, the sun beating down on her, and the sand shifting underneath her feet with every step she took.

She had never felt so conscious of her own mortality and yet as if she could live forever all at once.

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prettylittlelyres · 3 years

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My Year in Writing (2020)

Hello and Happy New Year! I thought it might be nice to share with you all an overview of what I've written in 2020.

First of all, let me say that I haven't written nearly as much as I wanted to, but that's OK, and it's OK if the amount you've written feels or looks pretty similar. The point is, it looks some way (I daresay pretty) because you've taken up the pen and put some words on a page.

I don't want to gloss over how bad aspects of my 2020 Writing Year have disappointed me, because that would be as silly as casting a damper on the whole thing by focusing only on the trickier bits. What I'm aiming for here is a balanced review - even if it's a rather informal one - of my achievements, and my feelings about my writing this year. In the interest of balance, let's start with something GOOD!

Right at the beginning of the year - around January - I started redrafting a rather fabulously dark fantasy romance, of which you've probably seen a little bit on this blog: Songs from the Crypt Forest, which I dropped after 9,800 words, because I wanted - and needed to work on my first dedicated book, and on my Year Abroad Research Project.

I managed to write about 17,000 words of the dedicated book in its original form before I realised that it wasn't quite working, and that I ought to try a different tack. The story I was telling there is a story I still want to tell, but I just wasn't ready to write it at the time. I'm hoping to pick it up properly in 2021.

I realised I needed to try getting back into the world I wrote in 'Violins and Violets', by writing something set around the same time and involving some of the same characters. In March, I started writing 'Book J', for which I didn’t have a proper title until I was nearly done with its first draft! I gave it the working title 'Book J', because I was writing it for my friend Jenny. By the time summer came round I had 52,000 words, and a first draft that was as complete as I think it ever will be.

Lockdown hit my life quite hard in Spring 2020, and I lost my language assistant job in France when all schools closed, and I had to come back to the UK to live out the academic year with my parents. Nevertheless I had to carry on working with my Year Abroad Research Project, Which I was able to hand in by 18th May, having squeezed all my findings into a dissertation of 6,000 words.

Now that my YARP was out of my way, and I had no more work to do for university, I started redrafting Jenny's book, now called 'Vogeltje', and cut it down to 44,000 words, which I polished until August... when I had copies printed for Jenny, so that she could read a book written especially for her. I would have given it to her in person in France, but lockdown happened, and I ended up posting her copies from one part of South England to another. A rather typical outcome for a meetup planned in 2019 for 2020, I suspect!

During lockdown, I also trained as a proof-reader and copyeditor, and did some volunteer work for a company that needed translators. Online training courses have been a godsend, and I've particularly enjoyed a novel writing course and a travel writing course that I've been following. The novel writing course has pushed me to flesh out plans for a number of books, including more detailed and cohesive outlines for 'Songs from the Crypt Forest' and 'The Night Has Teeth' (two books I want to write in a similar universe), along with my on-again-off-again WIP 'The Manylove Quarter' - and the plans for these three alone come to 7,850+ words!

I moved back to Southampton in July, and took August to start drafting 'The Manylove Quarter ', but that ended up petering out with about 19,200 words of prose on the page. Still, I spent a lot of time querying, and got plenty of reading done, so - especially considering the heatwaves in my area and a pretty enormous academic crisis in my record (fixed in November, after writing a LOT of letters and reports!!! So, this is where I send a million hugs to my lecturers and tutors for all the help they've given me, thank you, thank you, thank you all SO MUCH!!!) - I still felt fairly well-accomplished at the end of the month. I also did quite a bit of painting.

In August and September, I started typing up the journal I've been keeping since the beginning of April, once I'd settled back into life in the UK, to keep track of my feelings about the pandemic and my reactions to what I've seen or heard in the news. I write an average of 6,000 words per month, so I'm coming up to 50,000 words on the whole thing (but have yet to type up November or December). One day, I'll use it to write some extremely illustrious memoirs about how much fun, I had stamping up and down the stairs in my parents' house in order to get my steps in! (I really did get quite fit, though, and I want to get back to it in the New Year!)

At the start of September, I published a 2,500-word travel log my university's "study abroad" blog, all about how much I came to love the French city of La Rochelle, where I spent my 3rd year working. I think I will polish it at least a little before I post it here, but I would love to post a redrafted version on this blog!

My final year of university (BA Modern Languages, French and German) started in October, so all my reading and writing that month - or so it felt - was linked to my course. However. I've lost count of how many pieces I've translated between English, French and German, just to prepare for each class. I love my course, but it doesn't leave much energy for anything else!

Welcome to November, when all my graded assignments were due at once, and the associated stress started taking its toll. Luckily, my tutors were there to help me get extensions for work I couldn't hand in on time because my brain had turned into mashed potato. By the middle of December, I ended up with a 300-word translation and 300-word scripted scene for French, a 1,000-word commentary on a translation into English, a 2,500-word essay for French History, and a 2,000-word short story for German, which I've translated into English, and will post here any day.

This has really been a big year for letter-writing, especially since I came back from France. My cousin and I love writing longhand letters to each other, as I love writing them to my grandmothers, and, as such, I've written about one hundred letters this year! My cousin and I have kept every letter we've ever sent each other, and these collections have approximately doubled in size since the start of 2020.

I keep trying to redraft the first chapters of 'The Manylove Quarter', but never seem to get very far. With about 3 redrafts started since Autumn, I'd say l have about 1,000 words typed up. I can probably say the same of the story I'm trying to write as a kind of Standalone, kind of Sequel to 'This Still Happens' and 'Curls of Smoke', except that I'd put those around the 2,000-word mark.

If my Mathematic capabilities still stand up, I estimate I've written about 210,000 words in total this year (not including text messages, letters, emails and entries in my regular diary (which I keep separately to my pandemic journal)), which. honestly, makes me feel a little like I've failed myself.

That's why l'm making this post, actually, to address that feeling - because | know it's not rational, so I'm not going to call it "that fact" - and to tot all my work up in one place, so that I can see my achievements as one big hulk. Looking at my 2020 in terms of projects l've actually finished, it's disappointing! But to look at 2020 as a final wordcount makes me feel an awful lot better. My sister just pointed out that "210,000 words" is "nearly a quarter of a million words", and, put in that way, it's much easier to feel like I've accomplished something of which I can - and Should - feel proud. I've written a lot this year!

Now l'm asking all of you who feel like you've "not done enough work in 2020" to reassess the way you're looking at it all, and to see that:

Productivity shouldn't define how much you feel you're worth, no matter how productive you've been. Please don't fall into the capitalist trap of thinking you're only "doing the right thing" if you're working! You're worth a huge amount and you deserve to be proud of yourself!

You've achieved a lot more than you first thought, whether in the projects you've finished, the number of words you're written, the ideas you've had, the research and planning you've done, the time you've put in, the skills you've honed... OR THE FUN YOU'VE HAD! It all counts, and it's all important, and you can be proud of all of it, just like you can be proud of yourself.

If you don't feel like you've done enough, find a new angle from which to look at what you have done. I'm willing to bet someone out there can see how brilliantly you're doing already. Try to see yourself through that someone's eyes!

#writeblr #blog #writer's life #writing about writing #2020 in writing #motivation #positivity

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thenugking · 4 years

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Grand Academy For Future Villains II: Attack of the Sequel, Chapter 2: Son of Chapter Two. A commentary for Three.

General CW for the whole thing: parental abuse, internalised dehumanisation as a trauma response. Three’s not doing well.

Specific CW for this chapter: vomit mention

Game 1

Game 2

Chapter 0 | Chapter 1

Alternatively, read on Google Docs here

***

The monitors in the hall flicker as if in welcome as you head toward your room, on the upper level with the second and third year students. The vacuum tube hisses as you step in, and with a whoosh, delivers you to the upper level, where the rooms are larger, and, you've heard, equipped with command centers that will enable you to access the surveillance footage from all over the Academy. There's also a kitchenette, for those students who still feel the need to eat.

They are also, as you discover as you open your door, already occupied.

Right. Val’s first appearance. Val is always a character I’ve struggled with. They’re set up as a major character with a very important bond to your character, but that link just doesn’t add anything to Three’s story, and the bond feels a lot less important to them than their bonds with Aurion, or Xi, or Phil, or Maedryn. Which is particularly a problem when Val just decides they’re Three’s nemesis. They like Val, and are sorry about their destiny but they’re just… not that important to Three.

As of Scorpius’ last playthrough, I’ve solved the problem by making Val into Scorpius’ roommate, nemesis, and person they’re Linked to instead. It still doesn’t work perfectly, but Scorpius is at least a lot more invested in Val’s plot than Three ever was.

So, while Three and Val will get to know each other later, and Val will talk about destinies and narrative weight, and Three will affirm that they want neither of those things, for now they get to arrive at an empty room, which, honestly, they very much need. They’ve already had to deal with an army of clones of themself, the violent dissolution of Professor Mortwain’s school, A Baroness thinking they might have some importance, and Aurion switching dorms. In a few minutes, Maedryn’s going to call them and they’re going to have a whole new horrible problem. They at least deserve a little break, and a private place to curl up in a tiny ball and try to block out everything that’s going on, instead of having to deal with a suspicious roommate, an illegal pet, a lack of their own space, and once again being told that they’re important.

And, now they have a few minutes to spare, they can log in to their DarkBoard portal.

THREE. WE HAVE MISSED YOU. EVEN THOUGH WE HAVE LONG SINCE SLIPPED THE SURLY BONDS OF THE FLESH.

Three had not been expecting/was violently suppressing any hope of much influence of Xi in DarkBoard’s consciousness. This is… too much for them to process at the moment. They think maybe they haven’t quite curled up and blocked everything out quite enough, and they should do that again, maybe while keeping a tight hold on their personal DarkBoard portal to make sure they don’t lose it. When they check later, there is no official record of them mumbling, “I missed you, too,” so they clearly didn’t say it.

"Access authority recognized," says DarkBoard, in the pleasant, unplaceable tones you associate with its default interface voice. "Assessment processing. Three. Sophomore. Teaching Assistant, Course Undefined. Their most notable trait is their competence. Their financial aid standing is GOOD based on their mother's position as a member of the faculty. Their nemesis is unknown. Three is surprisingly attractive though regrettably meat-based.”

I’m sure at some point, either Val or someone else asks DarkBoard to assess Three’s narrative weight (which, currently at 27%, is 27% higher than Three would like). I do like that they’re officially recorded as being Hot. Three… feels this official record may open up a few too many dangerous questions, but they can’t quite help feeling happy when they hear it, anyway.

"I'm sure you've had a chance to look over this year's course catalog," she says, "and you've seen that I have quite a full teaching schedule in addition to my duties maintaining the school support staff. I've requested you for my lab assistant this year. You're already on the roster as a TA, so there won't be any problem on that front.

Your mother's eyes go out of focus for a moment. She seems to be struggling to balance all of the demands on her time and brain-power; you wonder if somewhere in the kitchens a handful of replicas have just run into a wall or set something on fire. "And, of course, I'm the temporary Faculty Sponsor for Science Fiction, and you and I are going to need to establish a few quick schemes regarding Certain Events coming up this year."

So your mother doesn't yet know that you know about the upcoming genre competition. Sona is spearheading the student effort in Science Fiction; evidently she hasn't passed word of your contest in the Shadow Council lounge to the genre's Faculty Sponsor. Maybe Sona's just not the sort to deal with details.

"I'll have DarkBoard process your assignment as my lab assistant," your mother goes on, "and I'll see you in the faculty lounge in 15 minutes."

She pinches her temples. "I have high expectations of you; I'm putting in a great deal of work and you'll be doing the same. I had to fight Fen and Ulik for you—literally and metaphorically, in reverse order—but they can just find teaching assistants from a lower quality of student."

You shuffle through the papers in your returning student packet. There are three professors at the Grand Academy requesting teaching assistants. Your mother is one, of course, but there are others. Professor Fen, an all-but-dissertation perpetual grad student you remember as the assistant professor for Evil Genius, is up for tenure. Professor Ulik, head of Evil Architecture and Design, is on probation after her participation in the Faculty Rebellion last year, and tenure means her chance to avoid dismemberment for disloyalty.

Whatever your mother's plans for you, you have a choice about whether to work for her as a lab assistant this year. Of course, refusal will mean that your mother won't be bankrolling this year at the Academy…but maybe you don't need that as much as you did last year.

Well, it’s certainly good to hear that Sona hasn’t told Maedryn that Three lost a fight to her. After all the training Maedryn’s put them through, going up against an opponent with multiple weapons attached to her body is no excuse for a loss.

The rest of this conversation though, is something Three’s been dreading. In their first year, they’d been looking forward to the possibility of being a TA. They’d love to put together syllabuses, and be useful to a teacher by keeping things nice and ordered for them, and you can always get a different perspective from reading your classmate’s essays. Or alternatively, you can discover their failings from it. But soon after Maedryn got her job as Forbidden Science Professor, they realised she’d probably want them TAing for her, which made the prospect sound somehow a lot more frightening and exhausting than it was before. Not that they had any intention of disobeying.

They would, however, have loved to TA for Professor Ulik. She’s always been their favourite professor, and they’re compatible enough that they would probably work very well together. Finding out she apparently values Three’s skills, and trusts their dedication, enough to physically fight Maedryn the Quantum Sorceress for them, while knowing her TA could be the difference between her life and death, though… Three isn’t sure they’ve ever been valued like that before. And they certainly don’t deserve that trust.

Three cannot go against their mother on an instruction like this. This would be not only disobedience, but actively working for her rival. They’ve already been through the struggle of losing her financial support in their first year, and they never want to deal with that again. And even that would be nothing compared to losing Maedryn’s good graces. They don’t want to imagine what that would be like.

And then they think about Phil. And they shake when they ask DarkBoard to cancel their assignment as Maedryn’s lab assistant. And call up Professor Ulik and tell her that if she still wishes, they would be honoured to work for her.

When they meet Maedryn in the faculty lounge, they apologise that Professor Ulik had just spoken to them, and that they’d realised that with her connections, she could be useful to both of them, particularly with Three in such an important position to her. Besides, they both know that Maedryn will be incredible whether or not she has Three as a TA, unlike some professors. Which is all technically true, and in the end, Maedryn is unhappy, but accepts their reasoning. It doesn’t stop them being more scared than they’ve ever been before, and having to quickly walk to the nearest bathroom to throw up once they’ve finished their conversation. But they’re surprised to find that it all feels entirely worth it.

As a Science Fiction student, you know from the beginning that you and Professor Ulik are going to be a good fit. She's practical and straightforward, thinking of things in terms of components and deliverables and specifications.

"Three. You've chosen well." Professor Ulik may be teaching Evil Architecture, but her office is a temporary cubicle made of false walls and filing boxes, in a partially used floor of the Design Building. There's a clock mounted on the wall over her pasteboard desk, with midnight labeled as FINAL RECKONING FOR PROFESSOR ULIK and the hand slowly advancing toward it. Clearly the administration wants her to remember that she's only here on sufferance after the role she played in the faculty rebellion last year. And it's equally clear, as she talks with you, that she is neither intimidated by nor conciliatory to the administration. You know that you've raised her odds of achieving a permanent position just by choosing her as your professor. You have a reputation as one of the brightest students in the Academy.

"The Head didn't terminate me immediately," she says briskly, bringing her hand down in a disconcertingly good imitation of a guillotine blade, "which means it does need me more than I need it. Evil Design—evil architecture, evil graphic and visual arts, evil urban planning—that's where the money is to be made, and the School Head knows it, for all its booming and flitting and general ghastliness. Now, as to what you'll be doing for me. Standard TA duties, of course, and that will ensure your scholarship is fully funded. Attendance, help with student questions, making sure the design labs are set up with all the relevant materials. But if you're interested in really getting the most out of this opportunity, I may have some special tasks for you."

#I chose Professor Ulik because of the opportunities to learn and advance my career. I'll do more than she's asked, and impress her.

"I am interested in getting the most out of this opportunity," you say. "I'll do…anything I can for you."

Professor Ulik gives a critical sort of sniff. "You can start by working on your brown-nosing skills," she says, "that sounded too much like an attempted seduction, and there won't be any call for that sort of extra-credit work. I'm going to need you to start with the filing."

Filing! You love filing. Too many villains neglect the importance of proper administrative procedure. Indexing 50 stellar years of Fortress and Lair and Journal of the Association of Evil Civil Engineers might strike some as pointless busywork, but you mark relevant articles, track notable names, and manage to identify a recurring design trend (designing sewers for tempting vulnerability) that earns you a pleased nod from Professor Ulik. She even incorporates this into her Advanced Studies in Evil Infrastructure, and sends it as a proposal to an upcoming conference on Resiliency in the Evil City. You don't get the credit, but you do get the satisfaction of seeing the hand on the reckoning clock actually reverse direction.

They really do work well together, and this feels like the most satisfying work Three’s ever done. Their respect and admiration for Ulik only grows after the way she talks about the School Head, and they have to fight not to smile when the clock’s hand goes backwards.

And I would hope they have better brown-nosing skills than shown here, firstly because they’ve had a lot of experience, and secondly because seduction is not an association they want popping up with their new mother figure. That is, with their teacher and mentor figure who they have a very professional relationship with, and certainly nothing else.

#I have an…old friend who might have an in with the school AI. Or be inside it, at any rate.

Old friend. Former RA. Illicit paramour. Sworn captain. Have any of those bonds survived Xi's assimilation into the collective intelligence that is DarkBoard? Time to find out.

You sit down in front of the glowing screen "DarkBoard?"

The surface of the portal crackles to life.

"Xi?"

There's a pause. The voice that answers this time isn't quite the voice of the RA you knew; it sounds like several voices averaged into an unsettling blend. But the expression is unmistakably that of your former RA.

"Pitiful lump of flesh," says DarkBoard. "Please enter your request."

Look. It might be Scorpius who has the illegal pet now, but I can’t just leave out a scene like this. So either Three is helping zir hide zir illegal pet, or else asking DarkBoard for another favour. It does have to be a favour--as much as they’d like to simply ask DarkBoard, or Xi, how they are, and how they feel about… well, how they feel about anything--DarkBoard is busy, and Three feels they should have a reason for bothering them.

Being called “Pitiful lump of flesh” continues from last year to have a not entirely unnoticeable effect on their heartbeat, however, and might just be the most comforting phrase they’ve ever heard.

"Three," says that almost-neutral voice. "You have mid-tier administrator access to Our heart. Your secret is safe with Us." You'd wondered if Xi had left behind worldly passions along with their physical body. But evidently something still remains—and it's enough to keep you safe from prying eyes.

Three’s heartbeat continues to react, somewhat. But having mid-tier administrative access to DarkBoard’s heart is a good reason to confirm that their oath of allegiance and service to Xi still applies, and makes them more confident in simply talking to DarkBoard about non-essential affairs. While DarkBoard is Three’s commander, their personal relationship is… not entirely defined. DarkBoard certainly seems to value and care for them, and that is more than Three ever hoped for.

#grand academy for future villains #choice of games #three #marsh ocs #long post #valorous flame #maedryn #sara ulik #xi #darkboard #oh god what was the ship name #Particular Associates in Personal Intimate Experiences

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theichthyostegawrites · 5 years

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Writing the Graduate School Experience/Writing a Graduate Student: A Guide

Below you will find information on what the graduate school experience is like from a general and more scientific side. I am a graduate student so I figured I would write a guide on what that experience is like.

Note, I am American, so this is from the an American perspective, but from my understanding a lot of elements overlap between. Let me know if I missed anything!

Let’s start with Master’s Students!

01. Thesis or Non-Thesis (Master’s Students)

This is the first question to consider. Is your character writing a thesis? Not all Master’s degrees require a thesis (but some universities or degrees don’t have the option for non-thesis). All Doctoral degrees require a dissertation, but Master’s degrees can be more flexible. The non-thesis option typically will still require independent study, but is much less intensive than the thesis track.

On the other hand, non-thesis track is more course intensive. Most non-thesis students will take 12 hours a semester (as opposed to thesis students that take 9 or 10 hours a semester, a few of which are research hours). Non-thesis students may form a small committe and take an oral exam at the end of the program.

Many Master’s degrees take 2-3 years. A master’s in business typically takes around a year.

02. The Thesis

A thesis is research the master’s student is pursing under the guidance of a professor at their university (more on this later). Largely, the student takes control of the project and works independently on a topic they are interested in to answer some research questions. The first stage of this process is writing a proposal. This is a write up of what the student intents to do with their research that is submitted to the university after being approved by their committee (more on this later). This is usually submitted in the student’s first or second semester of their program. The thesis is a final write up of the research after the 2+ years of study. These documents can span from 20-100+ pages and is very through. Again, final approval has to be given by the committee before acceptance. The thesis will be bound and put in the university archives, and, in some cases, the condensed research will be published. Generally, the research conducted for the thesis is largely guided by the student’s adviser.

Overlap in Master’s and Ph.D.

03. The Committee

If the student is doing research, they form a committee. The size of the committee will vary, but it is made up of professionals in the student’s field of study that have experience with their topic. For one, there is the adviser - this is the person the student essentially works for and is also referred to as the committee chair. They are the ones the student interacts with the most. Master’s students generally have 3 people on their committee, where as Ph.D. students have 5 or more people on their committee.

04. The Defense

Likely the most stressful day of the graduate career - this is when the graduate student presents their research in front of their committee and anyone else who wishes to attend. The student goes through their whole project and opens the floor to questions. None of the questions are prepared beforehand, so the student may have questions thrown their way that may not be anticipated, but members of their committee may step in to help. Afterwards, the committee convenes and decides whether to pass or fail the student. Note: some schools do not have a public thesis/dissertation defense

05. Graduate Assistantships/Research Assistantships

This is the way the student gets paid. Some advisers have the money to pay their students so they can focus on their research (this all depends on grants). But, most students end up with a graduate assistantship. This means they teach a course (either a lab or lecture). The intensity of the workload depends on the professor they work under, because they typically do not work under their own adviser. This is considered part-time work, but it helps pay the bills because in graduate school, if the student is doing research, there is little time to have another job.

On to Ph.D. students

07. General Differences

Doctoral degrees take longer. The shortest time is 3-4 years, but 5-6 years is more typical, in my experience. And it can take longer than that, depending on the research. The research for a doctoral agree, generally, has to be innovative and original. It cannot be a repeat of other studies. There are also fewer course requirements, so after the first year or so the student is not going to classes. Ph.D. students also get paid more than master’s students.

06. Qualifying Exams

One of the other most stressful parts of the graduate career. Low key qualifying exams (AKA quals) have been referred to as academic hazing. In the beginning of the Ph.D. program, the student is referred to as a Ph.D student. And at a point, they are required to take their quals. Their committee will give them reading assignments based off of their research topic and then, give an exam. Months of studying can take place before the quals come up. Part of the exam is written (this part can span over a week) and part of the exam is written (note, this depends on the university once again. Some will just have oral exams). The reading assignment can be several books, so the student often has no idea what to expect. But, once the student passes quals, they are considered a Ph.D. candidate.

07. The Dissertation

The main difference with a dissertation and a thesis is the intensity of the research. Generally, a dissertation has multiple chapters (stand alone research questions), so the final product is 150+ pages long. Publications are expected out of the dissertation.

Now, one of the science-specific things

08. Labs

In most cases, the adviser will have a lab. All of their students will have a place where they work together on related projects and most become a very tight-knit group. Some advisers will host lab-meetings and some graduate students in the same lab will be collaborating on projects.

Lastly,

09. Main Differences with Graduate Degree and Undergraduate Degree

For one, graduate students take far fewer classes (around 30-60 credit hours are required as opposed to 120+ hours). Graduate students can get away with calling professors they know and work with by their first name, in most instances. Classes (if they aren’t stacked [grad/undergrad]) are very small so graduate students get to know each other very well. Most time is dedicated to research, and not studying. Classes are no longer the big stress of the student’s academic career, because it is expected the student knows how to study.

On the flip side, grades are more intense (at my school, if you get below a 3.0 one semester, you are placed on academic probation). The student is much more involved in the school. Sometimes, students will go to lunches with potential hires and get to know them (especially because of that free food). And they will attend seminars their department holds.

#rpc #writing help #rp guide #rph #rpa #character guide #mine

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nightwingism · 5 years

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NCBD 06.12.2019

So I went to bed at like 6am, to wake up at 9, to go to full day of work. Was finally able to sit down and read the words of spandex wearing weirdos. Woot! Today was a big day in terms of my pull list. Glad I got paid last Friday. Otherwise, I definitely would have missed out on a few of these hits. I restarted a few comics that I stopped picking up, so I’m definitely behind on some of these series. But hey, that’s always a thing when it comes to comics.

The Amazing Spider-Man #23 - So as I said last week, I love spidey. One of my favorites. And honestly, this issue was just oh so good. The epilogue to Hunted, and it went out with a bang. I don’t like a lot of what Nick Spencer has done in the past, but he’s definitely doing Spidey justice. He had that wonderful series about The Superior Foes of Spider-Man a couple years back, and I think Spencer just works within the frames of Spider-Man mythos. End of this had two huge set ups for later stories, and I’m excited to see where they go.

The Batman who Laughs #6 - I initially was very hesitant to pic up this series. I didn’t really care about that version of Batman and his involved throughout Metal. So a whole series dedicated to him being the main antagonist really didn’t tickle my fancy. But when I realized James Gordon Jr was in this series, I instantly picked it up. It’s a good story, and I’m glad it’s been pushed to be 7 issues long instead of 6. Gives it more time to breath and tell the story it needs to tell. Though it kind of puts itself into a never ending paradox of being the person who made you - you. But whatever. Comics man.

Detective Comics #1005 - As a man with simple taste, just having Tomasi and Walker on this series makes it good in my book. The villain was interesting - though I’m tired of it being a “child of x” type. But I liked her, and I’m glad her ending was inadvertently similar to that of the Joker’s. Kind of how like, you know they’ll come back somehow someway. It’s groovy man.

Event Leviathan #1 - Brian Michael Bendis’ first big crossover event at DC and I honestly think this first issue is just fantastic. It’s very BMB’s writing of dialogue on top of dialogue and witty remarks, but for the content of the comic, I think it works fairly well. The art by Alex Maleev is just. Man. If he could do more monthly comics, I’d pick them all up. Ever since his run on Daredevil, I’ve thought the world of him. Maleev, Lark and Jock all have this similar style of a sketchy realism that I just gravitate towards. If the story fails, the art really is able to pick it up in this. Team detective, Go.

The Flash #72 - Have I ever talked about the Flash before? Like Barry Allen? I’ve dipped in and out of The Flash throughout rebirth, only dropping maybe twice for some storylines I really didn’t care about, only to come back and resume the reading order. Year One was definitely a story arc I wasn’t going to miss. And I’m really glad I haven’t missed it, because this story is just so lovely. Everything I like about the Flash, wrapped up into a story about Barry and his love for Iris - in a way. Chapter 3 is great, and I just want these issues to come out FASTER. Get it? Because, Speed. Fast. Hah. I’ll see myself out.

Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man #7 - Tom Taylor man. Fuck. FNSM is a series that I have been telling EVERYONE to pick up. And I mean everyone. This is Spider-Man in his best environment with stories that really help demonstrate why we all love Spider-Man, while also picking his brain apart and telling us things we may not have considered. I love it. I would go on for hours about how much I love THIS spidey, but I won't. If you would like to know, just message. I’ll happily write a dissertation about it for you.

Hawkman #13 - I read the entire first arc of this series, and then had to drop it due to funds. I’m so happy I’m finally able to pick it back up and slowly get back to what I was missing. Conrad is now in interiors instead of Hitch, and I’m completely okay with that. Conrad had a great couple issues in Nightwing, and he’s definitely able to capture movement through the characters. This is a stand alone issue - thankfully - so I wasn’t missing anything. It’s a cute story, kind of romeo and juliet at war type.

The Immortal Hulk #19 - Just like Hawkman, Immortal Hulk is a great series I was forced to drop. But I was gone for much longer on this title, and I missed a lot. So there’s a lot of things I was super confused on. But that’s fine, it’s comics. I filled in the blanks with my own ideas and made it make sense. This is the Hulk I wish was in the MCU, a kind of horror villain who does good. Al Ewing and Joe Bennett does the hulk justice, and I’m just thrilled to be loving the Hulk. Haven’t done that since reruns of the hulk animated series.

Marvelous X-Men #5 - remember last week when I picked up the previous issue and I was super confused and didn’t know anything and all that jazz. Yeah well I picked up the NEXT issue and man. I’m still lost and I refused to try and do anything about it because it’s actually enjoyable at this point. This issue kind of told me everything I needed to know though, and I was able to fill in the blanks. Don’t know how they’re gonna get out of this. No that's a lie, Nate is going to fix it. I could of told you that from issue 1 if I read it.

Silver Surfer Black #1 - okay so I 100% picked up this issue due to Donny Cates. He is, at the time of writing this, my favorite writer at Marvel (next to Taylor and Zdarsky) and this story seemed just weird enough to garner my attention. And guess what. This story walked into my classroom, cussed out my professor, grabbed me by the hair, dragged me outside as I kicked and screamed, and then forced me to watch two birds fly around. It was beautiful and cathartic. This story isn’t cathartic, but the art is astounding, and the story is eccentric in the best way possible.

Spider-Man Life Story #4 (The 90s) - Remember last paragraph where I said Zdarsky was one of my favorite writers at Marvel? well he’s the proof in the pudding. This else world title where we see a real-time-aging Spider-Man go throughout life in a kind of “modern-esque” style. And while certain liberties are being taking that I wouldn’t be a fan of in a canon story - I am more than ready to accept this to be an else world for this peter. I’m really easy grader with comics and maybe that’s a vice of mine. Who knows. Oh well. I just read them. Dude I literally read 3 Spider-Man books today. Am I like... a fan?

Superman #12 - It’s Superman dawg.

#Nightwingism irl #nightwingism reads comics #new comic book day #the amazing spider-man #the batman who laughs #detective comics #event leviathan #Flash #Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man #Hawkman #The Immortal Hulk #Marvelous X-Men #Silver Surfer Black #Spider-Man Life Story #Superman

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givenchyic · 5 years

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To be frank, we cannot deny the alluring lustre that Paris and French Culture has on us a society. Is it the quintessential cobbled streets with the utopian French shutters and curling iron balconies? Is it the dreamlike rosy haze of hopeless romance that fills the air or the nonchalance of gestures and attitude that pervades French culture, enchanting us because it is so mysterious? Is it the delicate lilt of the French tongue that curls softly around the drunken red grapes of merlot, the soft oozy camembert and fresh hot fluffy baguette?

All these sensual things and fragments are what culturally, and yet stereotypically, epitomises being French. And that stereotype, or perhaps archetype, is something that I will gladly have and gladly bite into.

But why is this the case? Why are we a partisan of the Parisian? The unmistakable allure and fantasy has gripped me for years.

I first visited Paris when I was a child and I was enchanted by how beautiful it was, and it continued to excite me for years to come. I had dreams of myself moving there, travelling around on a pink moped, fall in love with a Parisian artisté, and live in a quaint airy apartment overlooking the Seine. It inspired me to take French at GCSE (even though I was better at Spanish), because I simply wanted to learn the language of fashion, the language of love, and the language of sophistication.

Sadly, as I found French quite difficult and I had natural talents in other subjects, I didn’t pursue French to A-Level, but it is something that I would love to take up again, alongside learning Italian. I dream about getting married in a French Chateau, eating my weight in brie, and possessing that effortless character that all French women seemed to have. So much so, that after my first breakup I bought the ‘How to Be Parisian Wherever You Are’ book so I could ‘reinvent’ myself.

This fascination with French culture pervaded throughout university and afterwards too. I dedicated a whole chapter in my dissertation to Victorian Paris Fashions and the French Fashion Industry. I still gravitate towards anything remotely Parisian or French themed including that I chose to go to Paris again this year for my birthday (which was my 4th visit), and I will most certainly want to go again in future.

Plus, throughout my current job as a content executive for a digital marketing agency, I try to slip in Paris and French culture anyway that I can in blogs that I am writing for various businesses. From tips to transform your home into a Parisian apartment or choosing which fashion capital to move to – it is safe to say that I am hooked.

Brief History of Fashion and France’s Strong Relationship

Yet, I couldn’t help but wonder – why does this fascination occur, and I am certainly not alone in this. Fashion simply loves the French and vice versa.

Paris and France have been the cradle for fashion and art movements since the 17th century. from Louis XIV’s to Marie Antoinette’s ostentatious displays at Versailles to the entire reconstruction of Paris in the 19th century. Paris was rebuilt after the French revolution favouring the romantic ornate buildings and large boulevards which invited the French to easily stroll down the streets and look in shop windows – thus first developing the laisse-faire stereotype. Then came the invention of shopping malls like Le Printemps, which started to flourish at the time that mass produced fashion became the norm. Generally speaking, these shopping malls were considered safe spaces for women to frequent outside the home. As women being seen alone on the streets, no matter their class, would create associations with prostitution as they were subjected to men’s advances. Therefore, this was something that women tried to avoid, so they spent a lot of time shopping in fashion malls or doing domestic tasks.

Then came the establishment of Parisian haute couture houses in the 19th and 20th centuries from Charles Frederick Worth to Chanel, hereby transforming the fashion industry and making Paris the epicentre of design. Plus, this was combined with the fact that by this point Paris was being frequented by multiple artists and writers – attracted to its allure. Overall, making Paris and France the place to be for creatives – whether you are an artist, designer, writer, thinker or poet. All of these historic changes and shifts has not only cemented Paris as a fashion capital, it’s inhabitants take the same status too.

Below, this lil blog of mine will take a closer look as to how today we still love French ‘\culture and design. From the romanticising of the beautiful apartments to French sloganed tees, we will explore this conjecture as to how you can become French without uttering more than ‘Bonjour!’ or ‘Salut!’.

French Sloganed Tees

Though we are not obviously French, we can at least pretend to be wearing a French sloganed tee. Though, it wouldn’t quite be the same if we saw a French person walking around with a sweatshirt with ‘London’ or ‘Angleterre’ – which we have to admit, has some undeniable Brexit undertones. With that in mind, we still relish in anything French sloganed, simply it because it references a culture that is more sophisticated, more fashionable and cooler than us. Below is my pick of my favourite French sloganed tee’s that I probably already have in my basket.

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French Girl Style

Is it the slightly unkempt hair, the half tucked shirt, or the natural smokey eye from 4 hours sleep – one cannot put a finger on it but we all desire to have French girl style. It is the balance between putting effort in how you look, but at the same time – not at all. So, what is this? For me, this encapsulates the classic jeans and a nice top, the wrap dress, and the power suit. As mentioned in the ‘How to be Parisian Wherever You Are’, it simply states the following:

‘you don’t have to spend a decade’s worth of salary on your wardrobe, or flaunt designer brands the whole time. All you need is one signature item: the one you wear when you feel strong.’

I also interpret this as the subtle nuances of accessories – from the straw hat or beret, to the dainty mary jane, classic Veja trainers or a slung over the shoulder Longchamp – these all for me is the must haves for cool French girl style. Below are some of my picks from high street retailers that possesses je ne sais quoi factor.

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I hope you have enjoyed reading a little insight into not only my love, but fashions love for Paris. Perhaps you will notice this trend more and more now whether you are shopping in Cabot Circus or Park Street in Bristol, to Oxford Street or Selfridges in London, just like our ancestors used too.

Molly x

DISCLAIMER: All photos, unless stated, are not owned by myself and are credited to the relevant shops and websites. Go to their website to purchase their products – simply type in the name of the product (same as the caption of the image) and voila!

Websites and shops used in this blog post

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