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herenortherenearnorfar · 4 years

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Final graduation ficlet (which got quite long). A-Qing lives (sort of) and channels ghosts while living out her fashionista dreams. Jiang Cheng is identifiable due to his clothing choices. Light violence and zombies.

The best thing about living in Koi Tower is the clothing. Silk that runs like water between her hands, brocade heavy with embroidery, jewelry that chimes and sings as she moves. She doesn’t feel heat or cold, can’t sense gentle changes in pressure or even most pain. There’s still enough perception in her fingers to map out the bamboo grove and song birds stitched on her favorite dress and feel the whorls of gold and inset jade on her new bracelet.

After the first impolite insinuation about their friendship Jin Ling stopped buying her gifts more excessive than those he gave to the rest of his friends. Ouyang Zizhen, who can describe the grandeur of Lanling’s markets so clearly she can see the hawkers and jewel-bright fancies in her mind’s eye, has been thoroughly scolded by his father on her behalf so many times that they’ve regretfully halted their shopping trips.

Wei Wuxian makes up for it. He doesn’t have money of his own, but his husband is rich and lets him do whatever he wants, and what he wants is to spoil A-Qing whenever he’s in town.

He calls her cousin (biao zhi mei, an affection which makes several martial relationships familial and she thinks retroactively enforces at least two adoptions) and takes her places the boys are too scared to go. Good company though they usually are, they’re rich kids to the core. The streets A-Qing grew up on, back alleys and muddy side streets, are too lowly for little princes. They aren’t like Wei-qianbei, who can banter with street walkers and haggle with counterfeiters. His company is a welcome escape from the pompous brats in Koi Tower. Together with Wen Ning they walk the streets, wearing high collars and low hats for disguise. They sniff about the food vendors until oil and salt fill A-Qing’s throat and coat the remnants of her tongue. Wei Wuxian buys her trinkets, little squares of silk and jangling bracelets of gilt and enamel, louder and more delightful than the demure ostentation of the Jin. When she was young and dreamed of being rich she wanted bracelets up to her elbows, not “restraint” or “taste”.

At the end of every outing Wei Wuxian hands her a little parcel. “From your shushu by the water” he says, as if she has any idea who that is. They’re nice gifts through. Scarves and robes in fine cotton and brocade. There’s stitched florals and ribbons. She makes Jin Ling describe them to her and he reluctantly tells her about violet and turquoise geometric patterns, waxed pale into fabric. There’s one overrobe she especially likes— dark blue, Jin Ling says, with a cracking pattern like mud under the sun, like lightning, like the death lines on her own skin. She can feel the stares on her when she wears it.

The old men certainly stare when she slams open the door and begins tapping her way into the conference room, though she can’t tell whether it’s the crackling midnight robe, the green jade pins in her hair, or the fact that she’s here at all that has them so startled. That’ll teach them to try to distract her with poetry and fancies. As soon as the fine cultivator ladies, who normally scorn Koi Tower’s corpse, swept her away, she knew something was wrong.

It’s bold of them to try to ambush Jin Ling in his own home. They’re going to regret it.

“Xiao-guniang,” Jin Ling says, sounding relieved. A servant takes her arm and guides her over to the table, and A-Qing doesn’t snap at them. She’s learned to pick her battles. “I was just about to send for you. These kind elders have quite the suggestion for me and I wanted your input on it.”

“Is this really the place for a young... lady?” come the protestation.

“My shibo thinks highly of her judgement.” Jin Ling says, leaving everyone to put together in their own heads who his shibo is.

That stirs up whispers. It always does. A Sect Leader, almost grown, consulting her? A corpse under the Yiling Patriarch’s protection, a barely civilized street rat. They might have given her Xiao Xingchen’s name (it still hurts to hear it spoken, still scrapes every time someone calls her Xiao Qing, though even Song-daozhang insists he would have wanted her to have it) and a backstory worthy of tears (’she survived Xue Yang!’ Ouyang Zizhen would cry, passionate and sweet, and Jingyi would add a story of her bravery so embroidered it was unrecognizable) but she’s still a parentless urchin. A girl. A dead thing. There are a dozen reasons she shouldn’t be here.

Jin Ling has the full support of the Jiang and the Lan behind him though, and Nie-zongzhu always compliments her accessories. None of the other, weaker sects can do a thing about it. Politics is a lot like living on the street; the big people make the rules and everyone else puts up with it. The old coots make some noises about propriety, forcing chaperones and moderating the affection A-Qing and her friends can show each other in public, but they can’t get rid of her or mitigate her influence on their young ruler.

At best they can insinuate, and since Jin Ling started making eyes at the visiting cultivator from Dali those insinuations have had increasingly little weight.

What are their words? A-Qing signs, even though she knows perfectly well why they’re ganging up on Jin Ling in a side room. She won it out of Duanmu-zongzhu’s wife, who was sent to distract her. It’s amazing what people will say in the presence of a mute girl-- they think she’s deaf too and talk quite freely. You would think they’d be more careful, since she is, by their own accusation, a conniving abomination, but for all their fear they never quite take her seriously.

“They had some suggestions about the salt trade.” Jin Ling is doing an admirable job of playing the mature diplomat. “Surely they can explain it better themselves.”

“We merely wished--” one of them starts stammering, and another one takes over. “We thought to inform Jin-zongzhu of the opportunity to centralize control of the salt market. The Jin, Qin, and Lan together hold most of the salt marshes, and Jin-zongzhu’s great-aunt ruling in Meishan mean he would be able to get the western brine wells to cooperate with a taxation pact. It would be very beneficial to both the sects and the merchants!”

“They want to put limits on who can buy and sell salt, and they’re willing to levy a tax to make it worth our while.” She can practically hear Jin Ling’s posture, arms crossed, defensive. “Xiao-guniang, I don’t suppose you have any thoughts on that?”

I’ve walked in salt villages, A-Qing replied, leaning her cane against the table so her hands can move furiously fast. It’s not a good life. Brine and heat. If they could only sell to a few merchants they would be underpaid. No choices.

(A maid helpfully murmurs a translation of her words to the rest of the room. Few people have bothered to learn the language she now uses, the one she pieced together with the help of her friends.)

Jin Ling hums. “That makes sense.”

“There’s no reason to hesitate on the behalf of some peasants,” a very bold voice complains. “Their state won’t be improved by empty sympathy.”

“They’re just boilers, of no concern to you Jin-zongzhu. We treat them well.”

Oh. Oh.

She was going to hold back, for Jin Ling’s sake, but now she’s angry. Who of you is Hu Anshi? she demands, mouthing out the sounds of the name and punctuating it with the bracketed meaning (beard, safe, stone) over and over until it’s duly translated.

Reluctantly, one of the many voices in front of her says, “I am, xiaojie.”

Even with her ever sharpening sense (honed by cultivation that she came into late and kicking) it’s hard to differentiate him from the rest of the horde of weakly pulsing qi before her. They all have ghosts attached to them, hovering resentment like a cloud about their heads. Rich men attract desperate hatred better than anyone else. But she thinks she can single out one fuzzy figure with a particularly heavy load of sins and a familiar tinged energy over his shoulder,

A-Qing takes up her bamboo cane and strikes it once on the ground. I talked to your ghosts, she signs with her free hand. They had a lot to say.

That silences them.

Jin Ling inhales sharply and moves closer to her side, hand grazing her sleeve in support. When she shakes her head he withdraws, leaving her alone on in the cool air of the Koi Tower, shivering in her fine cotton and silk. Shivering because she’s letting the change come over her, letting the whispering, angry ghosts attached to Hu Anshi’s back have their say.

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when she took up this route of cultivation. Mediumship is... frowned upon by the sort of people who bear swords and seek immortality. The common people like it though and before she knew Xiao Xingchen, A-Qing made the acquaintance of a number of temple diviners and spirit writers. Some of them even offered her apprenticeships-- blind girls made for good optics. Spirit specialists willing to take on a pickpocket without the slightest inclination towards ghosts were unfortunately untrustworthy by definition. She never took them up on the offers.

Then she died and, like many of the restless dead, needed a way to communicate. Lan Sizhui played her Inquiry a thousand times in those first weeks, to ask her if she was comfortable, to field questions from the other giggling Lans. Eventually A-Qing memorized the song and began to play it on her own, tapping it out with bamboo against earth and fingers against wood. The spirit language, limited in form and structure, was easy to pick up and didn’t need a tongue or eyes.

When you played Inquiry, ghosts answered. A-Qing didn’t mention the questions at first, just did her clumsy best to give offerings to those whose names she learned, to give justice to those small inequalities her late night listening uncovered.

Wei-qianbei, who had what he called a “vested interest” in her wellbeing, learned about it eventually. He was the one who found her in Caiyi town (hidden from Lan and Jin elders alike while some ridiculous politics happened) fighting off possession by the little girl who’d been murdered two doors down a year ago. He was the one who helped her curse the wrongdoer, soothe the restless soul, and settle back into her own cold skin. After that he taught her Inquiry, and how to use the meditations Xiao Xingchen had happily guided her through to solidify her presence and strengthen her energy output. If she was going to get possessed, he suggested, she should be purposeful about it.

He didn’t teach her how to use her corpse strength to drag evildoers into the light. It came naturally enough and only needed a few suggestions from Wen-qianbei and Song-daozhang.

After that things had sort of... spiralled. By the time she went to join Jin Ling, then Jin-zongzhu, in Lanling a few months later, A-Qing had found herself an avatar of vengeance for any number of unquiet spirits. The living consulted her too, when there was bad luck or poltergeists, hauntings or incomplete burials.

As it happened, the highest halls of cultivation have hungry ghosts in need of justice too.

She lived in the north, in a village with no name. A-Qing says as icy incorporeal fingers close around her neck. They were poor and made money by selling salt, because one woman could bring up enough brine in a day to provide a whole family with salt for a year. And it paid. Until one day the merchants came to town with you at their head.

You have to give Zu’er, the maid who’s translating, credit. Even though the hand language drops lots of in-between words by necessity and requires creative substitutions-- earth for salt, sky for day-- she always picks up on A-Qing’s meaning. And she doesn’t flinch as smoke, hot and roiling, begins to peel off A-Qing, which speaks to her nerve if nothing else.

A-Qing taps her staff again and begins drumming out the song of opening, of offering.

Under your guidance they wouldn’t pay them enough to buy firewood from the inland where trees grew, or rice from the flood plains that weren’t salted beyond survival. Salt worth a fortune sold for scraps.

So they starved. Working, salt crusted, they hungered and hated you.

Footsteps echo on the cold marble floor.

“Bar the door,” Jin Ling says next to her, mild and spiteful. Whatever spirit he channels in clan politics, it’s a vicious one. “I think everyone should hear this.”

So a woman took salt on her back and went to sell it someplace else. And who did she meet on the road but the merchants? Do you remember what you did?

“She’s a witch and a liar,” someone, maybe even Hu Anshi claims. A-Qing is too deep in to care. The ghost, who came to her instantly when she played Inquiry this afternoon, looking for answers about this purported plot to head a monopoly, is particularly insistent and clever. She’s been following Hu Anshi for a long time, too weak to strike, too smart to get caught by protective charms and spirit dispelling talismans.

Now she finally has a chance to speak, in a sense of the word.

There is a complication to channeling without a tongue or eyes. She can get around just fine in this body of hers but spirits are rather less experienced. Without Sizhui or another Lan expert most can’t make their wishes known. So A-Qing has to get creative.

As much as she hates to admit it, she knows who she learned this mean showsmanship from. Three years with Xue Yang teaches you a lot about drama.

Cane held out like a divining sword, she advances, letting the spirit half sunk in her flesh and a faint memory of the room’s layout guide her around the table towards the bundle of quaking men. Like cowards, they scatter before her, not even trying to fight back (just as well; she can’t be killed but a sword in the stomach doesn’t make anyone happy). The ghost over her shoulder knows which target she wants to pick and swings about as frightened bodies swirl around her. Hu Anshi might be able to dodge but he can’t hide, soon she has him cornered.

His friends abandon him quickly, fleeing to the edges of the room as she advances. When her bamboo strikes his shaking legs, she gives in and lets the ghost have its way.

The problem with possession is that you have very little control. Locked away in the cool dark of her own flesh, A-Qing can’t even see what’s happening. Jin Ling is there, though, with his Clarity Bell, so she’s comfortable sitting back.

She gave the ghost pretty clear directions; no permanent damage, show how you died. At worst she’ll choke him for a bit before Jin Ling snaps her out of it.

For the sake of her friend, A-Qing tries to be subtle about her skills. Jin Ling helped her form her sign language, stuck with her even in the earliest days when the other frightened juniors were suggesting they report her to the Chief Cultivator, sent her long letters that Lan Jingyi would sprint down from Gusu to read out loud to her. He brought her here, gave her pretty dresses, listened when she talked about hungry children and towns that cultivators never visit. Listened when she talked about frightened female ghosts, begging for their lives, and murdered servants who have never gotten justice. Even his dog has been kind to her, has guided her through gardens and chased away bullies while Jin Ling sat in stuffy rooms doing grownup work. In deference to his family and responsibilities she doesn’t swear even when people act like bastards, she doesn’t run, she doesn’t summon evil spirits indoors without cause.

Sometimes she wonders how long their friendship (bound by oaths though it is) will last. In the three years they’ve known each other he’s gotten tall and deep-voiced, while she’s stayed the same. By the calendar she’s a decade older than him but she’ll never be fully grown. A-Qing is a creature of boundaries, not a girl and not a woman, not living and not dead. Not a destitute orphan anymore but not made for places like this.

More accurately, places like this aren’t made for her. It’s a shame because they clearly need her badly. Who else will give the ghosts and forgotten people a voice?

When the Clarity Bell finally shakes the ghost out of her body, she’s throttling a man with exquisite delicacy, holding his warm and moving throat like it’s the finest china ware. This is how she died, A-Qing thinks. You strangled her and left her body by the roadside. You took her salt and sold it and her family starved.

There’s a heavy hand on her shoulder. “That’s quite enough, I think.” says Jiang-zongzhu, whose voice she bothers to remember.

A-Qing lets the man fall to the floor, gasping even though she barely choked him.

“I told you all to stop talking about your salt plot,” Jiang-zongzhu is shouting above her. “Now you’ve tried to convince Jin-zongzhu alone to go along with your little price fixing scheme? Pathetic. I’ve heard enough of it. Get out. Don’t ever bring it up again.”

There’s a desperate skittering that A-Qing barely notices in the post-possession fog. She assumes the room clears.

“We’ll send the accusations of foul play to the local authorities?” When faced with his uncle Jin Ling always phrases orders as questions.

“A good idea,” Jiang-zongzhu agrees. “Send some cultivators too-- it’s outside of our wheelhouse but there’s bound to be some resentment built up if a merchant syndicate has been running wild through the marshes. Where did you say they were active, Xiao-guniang?”

He’s always polite to her. At first it was a disgusted sort of politeness, a politeness that suggested that she didn’t belong anywhere near his precious nephew. Over time it’s mellowed into frosty gentility and the occasional hand on her arm when she’s lost.

Qing province? she shrugs. South Bo Sea coast.

Signing proper nouns is like playing charades. For qing she points to herself (the words are close enough in pronounciation) for bo she taps her staff. It must make sense though because Jiang-zongzhu doesn’t even wait for Jin Ling’s swift interpretation. “That’s closest to Laoling. Qin Cangye has had a lot on his plate lately. Best to send a letter and some of your men.”

“I guess I should go do that. And I have to reassure the sect leaders I’m not doing demonic cultivation again.” A-Qing frowns and Jin Ling hastily amends, “You did great though.”

“Great is pushing it,” Jiang-zongzhu snaps. “You’re getting a reputation.”

Jin Ling, whose voice is already by the door, isn’t impressed. “They can get over themselves.”

Then it’s just her and Jiang-zongzhu in the room. One heartbeat, one steady warm core. A-Qing turns to go, only to be caught by the arm.

“Thank you.” Jiang-zongzhu says slowly. “You’ve been a good friend to him.”

A-Qing remembers the courtyard with the lotus pond, where she and Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi swore to be siblings in the eyes of the gods. (Though they love their other friends, they were excluded for practical reasons. Sizhui is already related to all of them and needed no further binding. Zizhen is a little in love with everyone and Jin Ling claims it’s bad form to sleep with sworn siblings, so for them to keep their options open he had to be excepted.) It’s a secret oath; Jin Ling doesn’t need the political complication of open sworn brotherhood. It’s still binding.

I try.

Jiang-zongzhu always smells like thunderstorms when he’s stressed. Right now all she can smell is the cloying Jin incense and a sweetness of lotuses. “Keep trying. And don’t be afraid to send for me again if you hear they’re ganging up on him.”

As he lets go of her her hand brushes his trailing sleeve. In an instant her fingers graze over silk brocade and fine patterned cotton. The texture is familiar and she instinctively grabs the fabric to feel the delicate embroidery and the stiff, thick woven cotton that still smells ever so slightly of wax. She can imagine the patterns inked on, maybe lotuses? Greenery? The colors are definitely shades of purple, blue and green.

A-Qing smiles as Jiang-zongzhu pulls away and stalks out.

The best thing about Koi Tower is the clothing, which sits against her skin and reminds her of the people who have taken her in.

The second best thing is getting to terrorize entitled rich people.

#the untamed #fanfic #graduation ficlets #a-qing #jin ling #jiang cheng

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dishearteningmediocrity · 3 years

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So I know I post far too much about Colin Clive, but sometimes you find something that has to be shared. This article appeared in the March 18, 1930 edition of the Brisbane Telegraph, though it seems it’s a reprint from somewhere else. But it’s an article Colin wrote about his experiences in the play, his thoughts about playing Stanhope, and what making the film was like (answer: muddy.) It isn’t startlingly revelatory or anything, but I was definitely excited to read his perspective on things, especially since he tended to avoid publicity and really didn’t like talking about himself. At least that’s my impression from what I’ve read. Anyway, hope some of you find this similarly interesting!

Here’s the transcript because it’s very hard to read:

Greatest War Play

Miracle of “Journey’s End”

Just over a fortnight ago, “Journey’s End” became a year old (writes Colin Clive in “Answers”). That anniversary performance at the Prince of Wales Theatre in London was, I think, the most thrilling of any that I have ever played in; for whenever I came off the stage during the course of it, and so could forget my part for a moment or two, I found myself automatically reflecting upon the most wonderful year of my life—the year in which I had the good fortune to be chosen for one of the leading roles in the most wonderful play of the century.

The romance of “Journey’s End” is, I suppose, well-known to almost everyone by now. The author, R.C. Sherriff, was a clerk earning a small salary in a London insurance office when he wrote it for members of the Kingston Rowing Club to perform when their annual dramatic show took place.

The club turned it down as being unsuitable for amateurs. Sherriff then submitted it, on the off chance of its being accepted, to several of the theatrical producers in London. They also rejected it.

“A play with no woman in the cast?” they said. “Good gracious no! The public would never stand for it.”

But the Stage Society saw the possibilities in “Journey’s End,” and presented it at one of their Sunday night performances.

The reports of the critics were so good that Maurice Browne decided to buy it and put it on for a regular run. Its success was instantaneous. It is now being shown in nearly all of the world’s capitals, having made fortunes for both Sherriff and Browne, and a name for every member of its London cast. In addition, a talkie of it has just been completed at Hollywood under the direction of James Whale.

Is it surprising, therefore, that I cannot thank Dame Fortune enough for what she has done on my behalf during the past year?

I was never able to serve in the war on account of my age; although it was only by a matter of months that I missed it. But the fact that I did miss it was the most disappointing thing I have ever experienced in my life.

THE NEXT BEST THING

But now I feel that my disappointment has been mitigated to a certain extent; not so much because of the help that “Journey’s End” has given me in my stage career, but because I have been able to do the next best thing to undergoing those longed-for experiences. I have re-enacted them in the most realistic of all war plays.

“A poor substitute!” I can hear many ex-Service men exclaiming. Admittedly I am running into none of the dangers, facing none of the hardships which they had to undergo; but by playing the part of Stanhope eight times a week I am beginning to know just what the Great War must have felt like to every man who went through it. That is to say, I think I can understand this better than most of these others who were unable, through age or disability, to “join up.”

Firstly, I am finding out what a physical strain it must have been. I cannot tell why I should be feeling a strain of this kind as a result of playing my part: but I undoubtedly do feel one.

Secondly, I am getting to know what a terrible strain it must have been on the nerves to live, day in, day out, to that accompaniment of gunfire—a strain far more terrible than I ever pictured, in my most imaginative moments, before “Journey’s End” commenced. I can, in fact, understand perfectly how badly Stanhope must have needed his regular drams of whisky to keep himself from “cracking up.”

PLAY’S MOST STIRRING SCENE

Incidentally, a lot of nonsense has been talked, by the few people who have seen fit to criticize “Journey’s End,” about this need of Stanhope’s for the whisky bottle. According to them, the British officer is accused, through it, of having to become a drunkard before he could do brave acts. The point they miss, of course, is that Stanhope, in his zeal for his duty, had gone without leave for a long time; and that, being a very highly-strung individual at the best of times, this had reduced him to a nervous wreck.

And I have noticed that the same critics, with their overwhelming desire to be destructive, always pounce upon Stanhope as representing the typical British officer, and never upon Osborne, the quiet ex-schoolmaster who is the truly brave character of the piece.

While on this subject, I would like to mention, in consequence of many inquiries, that I consider the whisky-taking scene in the first act to be quite the most stirring of all that I, personally, take part in. This may occasion some surprise, for I have found that most people imagine the scene in which I threaten to shoot Hibbert, one of the junior officers, for cowardice, to be the most impressive of all.

I cannot feel, as some readers may now be thinking, that I am actually taking part in the Great War itself when I am on the stage, for if I did so my acting would suffer.

I admit that I found it hard to remember that I was only acting when I took part in the trench scenes while the film of “Journey’s End” was being made at Hollywood.

I was then up to my knees in real mud, with shots being fired all round me and with men going wilder than would ever have been possible on the stage.

A striking tribute to the extraordinary realism of this episode was a remark which an American onlooker made to me after it was over.

“Well, if that wasn’t just great?” he drawled. “You know, it has made me wonder if you guys over in Britain didn’t have something to do with winning the War, after all?”

#Colin Clive #Journey's End #R.C. Sherriff #Stanhope #It pleases me very much that he says Osborne is the truly brave character of the piece.#The word disappointing seems an odd choice for avoiding the hell of WWI #but I guess if you've been groomed for the army all your life you might feel that way #Also his choice of the words highly strung to describe Stanhope #Oh Colin you really were perfect for the part weren't you

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elliemarchetti · 4 years

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Red Queen Pride and Prejudice AU (Part 2)

Part 1

Masterlist

Tag list (if you want to be tagged in all my work or only a specific fandom/fic dm me or write an ask): @lilyharvord

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That Miss Skonos and Miss Barrow should meet to talk about the party was perfectly obvious, but the attentive invitation Wren received from Miss Samos and Lady Haven was a real surprise: her gentle manner increased the two's goodwill towards her, and although her mother was considered unbearable and some of her friendships, including Gisa and Tramy, not even worthy of mention, the feeling of wanting to get to know better both her and Mare was openly expressed. Wren received this attention with great pleasure, but Mare still saw arrogance in their behavior towards everyone, barely mitigated in the presence of the homeowner, whose admiration for Wren, reciprocated, was more than evident, although the younger had noticed with pleasure that it wasn’t likely to become public knowledge, since Wren combined a great intensity of the feelings with a composed temperament and a uniform cordiality in the manner, which protected her from impertinent suspicions. Mare talked about it with a dear friend, Miss Farley, the daughter of a colonel discharged after a bad wound that had practically made him blind in one eye.

"Maybe in this case it can be positive", Diana replied, "to be able to hide it from other people, but sometimes to be so wary has its drawbacks. If a woman hides her own affection with the same skill to the one who is the object of it, she can lose the opportunity to conquer him, and it’ll be a very poor consolation to think that the world is equally unaware. We’re all free to start a slight preference, is more than natural, but very few of us have such feelings that they really fall in love without being encouraged. Nine times out of ten, a woman would do better to show more affection than she feels. It’s indisputable that Samos likes Wren, but he may never express more than that if she doesn't help him do so.”

“But she’s helping him!” exclaimed Mare.

"Remember he doesn't know her the way you do, therefore he may not understand it," the other wisely suggested. Although Diana wasn’t married, she always had good advice, whether it was sentimental, about family or neighborhood disputes, and the suggestions she was giving her, if it hadn’t been the romantic Wren she was talking about, would’ve been really good; although closer in age, Mare's two closest friends were very distant in terms of social class, and couldn’t be more different in character, which made the idea of organizing a cognitive meeting that wasn’t a social event of extended dimensions, a folly.

"Well," Diana said, "I wish Wren with all my heart to be successful, but if she married him tomorrow, I believe that she would be as likely to be happy as she would be studying his character for a year. Happiness in marriage is just a matter of luck: as much as two people can know each other thoroughly previously, or have similar characters, that won’t affect their happiness in the slightest, as they will always find something later that will divide them. Maybe it's better to know as little as possible the defects of the person with whom

you’ll spend the rest of your life, or we’re all destined to die alone.”

Both girls burst out laughing, and in the hilarity of the moment, it was far from Mare's mind to be in someone else's thoughts; General Calore had barely admitted at first that she was pretty, and at the ball he had looked at her without any admiration, as it had happened in their subsequent meetings, where he had done nothing but criticize her with his friends. But as soon as he convinced himself that her face barely had any nice features, he began to find that her intelligent dark eyes were able to render her expression beautiful, and although his critical eye spotted more than one symmetry flaw in her physique’s proportions, he was forced to acknowledge that she had a lean and pleasant body, and those discoveries had only been followed by others, equally embarrassing. Of all this, she was completely unaware; for her he was only a man who made himself unpleasant everywhere and didn't think she was beautiful enough to invite her to dance. Yet he began to want to know her better, and as a first step towards a direct conversation, he paid attention to her exchanges with others. This way of doing caught the girl's attention, and while they were at the Skonos’ house, where a large group had gathered, she spoke to her friend about it.

"Why was General Calore listening to my conversation with Colonel Farley?"

"It's a question that only he can answer," replied the other, "but if he does it again, let him know you're noticing his strange behavior."

Mare took her friend literally, and the girl soon found herself forced to distract her from teasing the poor young man, who seemed incredibly uncomfortable, inviting her to play and sing for the little gathering. Following her performance, it was her sister who took her place on the stool in front of the piano, and though the youngest of the Barrows had neither genius nor inspiration, vanity had provided her with determination and a pedantic and presumptuous way of doing things that made her get everything she wanted. Mare had been listened to with much more pleasure, although her voice didn't sound so good, but Gisa, at the

end of a long concert, was still pleased to obtain praise and gratitude from everyone, except for the General, who had remained in indignant silence for that way of passing the evening, which completely excluded conversation, and was too busy with his own thoughts to notice having the owner of the house next to him until he started talking.

"What an enchanting pastime for young people!" the man exclaimed, looking at the couples, including his daughter and Mr. Samos, who had started dancing. "On the other hand there is nothing like dancing; I consider it as one of the main refinements of civil society. "

"Of course, sir; and it also has the added bonus of being in vogue among the least civilized societies in the world. Any savage can dance. "

The man just smiled, as if he had realized something that was obscure to Cal, an attitude that annoyed him immensely, but never as much as his attempt to make him dance with Miss Mare, who seemed to have no intention of giving him the honor, despite his good disposition. Her reluctance, however, hadn't hurt her in the eyes of the gentleman, who was thinking of her with a certain satisfaction when he was approached by Miss Samos.

"Can I guess the subject of your reverie?" she asked, turning her gaze to the room and covering her thin, pale lips with a glass.

"I would say not," he replied, sardonically.

"Let me try: you are considering how unbearable it would be to pass many evenings like this, in such company, and I absolutely agree with you. I was never bored that much! The nonsense, plus the noise; the nullity and the importance that all these people give themselves! What would I give to hear your comments on them! "

"Your hypothesis is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was engaged in more pleasant things: I was meditating on the great pleasure that two beautiful eyes can give. "

Miss Samos immediately stared into his face, and asked him to tell her who was the lady who had the merit of inspiring such a reflection. Cal replied intrepidly, mentioning Mare's name, but had to quickly placate his friend's sarcasm and remind her that he hadn't forgotten their agreement, if only not to attract too much attention. Unfortunately, the General couldn’t suspect that he had been overheard by the young Gisa, who, returning home, reported everything to her sister just for the sake of hearing the malice that her mother would’ve expressed towards that man so cold that he hadn't even bothered to compliment her performance.

"From the way I hear you talk, you must be the silliest girl in the neighborhood," her father retorted. "I had suspected it several times, but now I'm convinced. "

Gisa was so disconcerted that she almost began to cry, and it was only her mother's intervention, and the subsequent quarrel between her and her husband, that allowed her to reach her room undisturbed. As for Mare, she listened, since her father's opinions were always well thought out, and certainly more reliable than those of her mother or even her brothers.

"From what you say, those two have been friends all their lives, and even their parents were friends before them, so it wouldn't surprise me if they secretly agreed to get married, if they were left without a partner for too long,” Mr. Barrow decreed, putting an end to the discussion, at least aloud, as his words reverberated for days in his daughter's mind, until the importance of the news was outclassed by a letter that came directly from the Hall of the Sun: Wren had gone on horseback to a lunch with Miss Samos and Lady Haven, but she had been surprised by a thunderstorm and now remained a guest of the Samos until her indisposition, which consisted of a severe sore throat and a pounding headache that had barely allowed her to write that note, had passed. Seriously worried about the matter, and despite her father arguing that she was going to be fine, Mare had decided to visit her, even though, with the ground made extremely muddy by the rain, making the carriage completely unusable, and given her ineptness as a horseman, she was forced to go by foot.

"How can you be so foolish?"asked her mother, rhetorically, " You won’t be presentable once you get there!”

"I'll definitely be presentable to see Wren, which is all I want," she replied, and Gisa's objections were to no avail since she was even supported by Shade and Tramy, who were willing to visit the Farleys, who lived right off the street. It was just dawn when the trio left the house and took the road to the Hall of the Sun, but as soon as she separated from her younger brothers, Mare continued along the shortcuts she remembered from when she was a child, walking briskly through field after field, climbing over fences and leaping puddles with agile impatience, eventually founding herself in sight of the house with sore ankles,

muddy socks and a face that shone, warmed by the exercise. She was ushered into the breakfast room, where all the residents, except for Wren and Mr. Lucas, were gathered and where her appearance caused a huge surprise; that she had walked three miles so early in the morning, in all that mud, and alone, was almost unbelievable to the two young ladies, and Mare realized they despised her for it, yet they welcomed her with great courtesy, as opposed to General Calore, who spoke very little, and the owner of the house, who didn’t said a word, probably upset by her unannounced arrival, or feeling as if she was questioning whether her friend was being properly cared for. The answers she received regarding that specific issue weren’t particularly encouraging: Miss Skonos had slept badly due to the high fever and she wasn’t feeling strong enough to leave her room. Mare was pleased to be immediately led to her, and Wren, who had refrained from expressing in her note how much she desired such a visit only for fear of creating alarm and disturbing, was very happy to see her come in, although she couldn’t have much conversation, and once Miss Samos had left them alone, the two merely had breakfast in silence. Once they finished eating, they were joined by their hosts, and Mare began to like them more when she saw how much love and care they showed for Wren. The pharmacist arrived, and after examining the patient he said, unsurprisingly, that she had caught a severe cold, and that there wasn't much to worry about; he advised her to go back to bed, and promised to get her some medicine. The advice was promptly followed, as the fever had risen and the headache had worsened. Mare didn’t leave the room even for a moment and the other ladies weren’t away for long either, but since the gentlemen were out, in fact they had nothing else to do. When the clock struck three times, Mare realized she had to go, and she said it very reluctantly. Miss Samos offered her the carriage but Wren seemed so anxious about parting with her that Miss Samos was forced to turn the carriage offer into an invitation to stay for the time being at the Hall of the Sun. Mare accepted gratefully, and a servant was sent to warn the family and to bring back a supply of clothes.

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geeky-writes · 4 years

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The Phoenix Project - Story Preview

Superfamily, Alternate Universe

Clearing his throat, Steve squeezed Sam’s shoulder as he raised his glass in the air, nodding at Sam, Carol, and Bucky to do the same.

“To Riley,” he said, clear and true.

“To Riley,” the rest said simultaneously before all four of them downed the contents of their glasses. Steve grimaced as the sharp liquor burned its way down his throat, fighting against the urge to cough. He wasn't that much of a drinker, especially of the hard stuff, as Bucky liked to call it, but out of respect for Sam he hadn't protested when Sam had ordered five rounds of what had been Riley’s favourite brand of whisky.

“So, have you been out to see the kid yet?” Carol asked once she set her glass down, waving the waitress over for another. “How old is he now?”

“Yeah, I just saw him yesterday when I brought Riley’s stuff out to Erin. I think he’s six months now? Something like that. Looks just like Riley too, poor kid.”

“Mmm. And how’s Erin doing?”

Sam gave a shrug, downing his second glass of whisky so fast the waitress barely had a chance to set it down.

“Eh, you know how it is. The kid keeps her pretty busy, probably helps keep her mind off of things, ya know? Keeps her from dwelling on it.”

“Yeah, that’s what Maria always says too,” said Carol. “She calls Monica her anchor all the time, says she would've been lost without her.”

“Yeah, I guess I can see that.” Sam let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “I dunno, it all just kinda sucks though.”

“Yeah, it does,” agreed Bucky. “Kinda almost makes me wanna take a shot at them every once in a while. Let them see what it’s like for a change.”

“Yeah, but that’s the same kind of thinking that got us into this whole damn mess in the first place,” said Sam. “It’s not a matter of who shot first anymore, it’s all about who keeps shooting.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to Riley’s wife and kid,” Bucky snapped, slamming his glass down onto the table so hard that Carol jumped. “At some point you just gotta either say stop, or fight back. This whole constant patrolling thing is just a massive waste of resources.”

“Well, isn't that what this newfangled thing we're starting tomorrow is supposed to address?” asked Sam. “The next phase, or some shit like that?”

Carol scowled, shooting Steve a questioning look. “Yeah, I guess so. You okay there, Cap?”

“Oh, yeah,” replied Steve, plastering on a smile he had no doubt that Carol could see right through. “Just a bit tired, you know? I was at Ma’s house all last weekend trying to help her out. Her arthritis has gotten pretty bad lately, so I’ve been trying to fix up some stuff around her house to help make things easier on her.”

“Yeah, well, tell her I said hi next time you talk to her, okay?” said Carol as she glanced at the timepiece fastened around her wrist. “I’m already late to meet James.”

“Will do.”

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna get going too, Steve,” said Sam, nudging him in the arm. “I got some stuff to go over before we start that fancy new class tomorrow.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Bucky as he rapidly downed his third glass of whisky. “See ya tomorrow, Steve.”

“Sounds good,” said Steve. “See you guys then.”

As soon as he was alone Steve dropped his chin to his chest, gripping his head between his hands. He had been trying to hide it from his friends, but Riley’s sudden death seven days ago had thrown him for a pretty big loop, one that he hadn’t yet managed to shake. It had been just another routine mission, scouting the skies above Langara in the new X-301 aircrafts with Sam and Riley, something they had all done too many times to count, when, while testing out the banking arc, Riley had pulled back just a split-second too late, ending up just a hair over the hardline DMZ.

And the very moment the tip of his wing tripped that invisible barrier, the enemy’s automated anti-aircraft defence system kicked in and he was immediately taken out, the resulting fireball so blinding that Steve almost flew head-on into Sam before he was able to recover.

Steve shuddered as he recalled the searing heat of that fireball, and the shock that he’d felt at seeing someone he’d spent nearly every single day with for the last three years suddenly vanish, and being completely and utterly helpless to stop it.

It was like Sam had said; that they had been up there just to watch.

And now there was yet another Langaran test-pilot widow, and yet another Langaran child growing up without a father.

Just like he had.

It took him a few more seconds to realise that none of the others had bothered to leave any credits behind for their drinks, something that brought a slight smile to Steve’s face as he dug into his back pocket, peeling off the required number of bills and laying them on the table. He’d get them all back the next time.

In fact, if his memory was correct, and it always was, Bucky had managed to skip out on paying the last three times, something Steve would be sure to pass along to Sam once he saw him again.

Getting to his feet, Steve grabbed his worn brown leather jacket and slung it over his shoulder, checking his timepiece on his way out the door. It was only 1600, and since he’d already completed his aircraft double-check and filed his mission report for the day, that meant he had plenty of time to make one of his hospital visits before he returned to the barracks for dinner.

Outside the sun was shining, the autumn air crisp and cool as Steve mounted his motorcycle and took off in the direction of the base hospital, smiling as he felt the breeze whipping across his face and through his hair. He never bothered with a helmet, something he knew drove his ma mad with worry, but he had always rather enjoyed living a bit dangerously, and since he had been driving motorcycles even longer than he’d been flying aircraft, Steve figured he didn't need to worry about a helmet.

Especially since he had driven out to that hospital so many times he likely could’ve done it in his sleep.

“Hey, Sharon,” Steve said as he arrived on the paediatric floor, smiling fondly at the pretty, blonde-haired nurse sitting at the nurses’ station. “How’re you doing today?”

“Hey, Captain!” Sharon replied, shooting Steve a quick smile. “It’s always good to see you. How’s it going over on the flight deck?”

A stab of pain pierced Steve’s heart, one that he pointedly ignored. He didn't feel like talking about Riley’s death yet again.

“Oh, you know,” he said quickly. “Patrols and more patrols. I’m starting a new class tomorrow though, so maybe things’ll get switched up a bit.”

“Oh. Well, that sounds like fun,” said Sharon. “So, you here to see someone?”

Steve gave a nod. “Yeah, thought I’d stop by and see what Tyler’s been up to. Is he still here?”

“Actually, he’s not,” answered Sharon. “He finally turned a corner about three days ago and was just discharged earlier this morning. The doctors expect him to make a full recovery.”

“Aw, that’s wonderful!” Steve exclaimed, even as he felt a pang of regret. He had really enjoyed getting to know Tyler.

“I’m just sorry that I didn't get to say goodbye to him.”

“Yeah, especially with the nasty type of pneumonia that he had,” Sharon said with wide eyes. “Kids really are resilient, you know?”

“Yeah, they sure seem to be,” said Steve. “Is that why you love working with them so much? ‘Cause they’re resilient?”

“Oh gods yes,” Sharon said, nodding swiftly. “That, and they don't complain about stuff nearly as much as adults do.” She gave her keyboard a tap and grabbed another chart off the counter, one that was so thick that its binding was starting to fray. “There is another kid who just came in early this morning, though, and I’d wager that he would really appreciate some company. Especially from a hotshot pilot like yourself.”

“Oh? What’s his name?”

“Peter,” said Sharon. She tucked the chart to her chest and leaned forward, lowering her voice. “He’s got a pretty bad heart, poor kid, and when he came in this morning… well… if I ever have to see another kid’s face that awful shade of blue ever again, it’ll be way too soon.”

Steve winced, crossing his arms across his front. “How bad is he?”

“Pretty bad.” Sharon huffed out a sharp breath as she bit her bottom lip, lowering her voice even further. “I’m not really allowed to talk about his family, but… let’s just say that he needs a pretty expensive operation, but there’s a lot of mitigating circumstances out there that are muddying the waters. It just sucks because he doesn’t deserve any of it, you know? And yet he’s still the one that’s suffering for it.”

Anger welled up inside Steve’s gut, so strongly that it almost frightened him. He hadn't even met the child and yet already felt very protective of him. “Okay, but you're not saying that his parents—that they’re—?”

“Oh no, that’s not it at all,” Sharon assured him. “I don't think I’ve ever seen a more overprotective father than this kid’s dad. I mean, the only reason he’s not in there with him right now is because he was afraid that he’d get fired. It’s just… well… you know our government, right? I mean, you're around part of it every day, so…”

“Just the military part,” said Steve. “I don't really know much about what goes on in the civilian aspect.”

“Well… like I said. It all just pretty much sucks.” Sharon tilted her head, giving Steve a warm smile. “I’m sure he’ll perk up once he sees you, though. He’s a real sweetie, but he’s pretty down at the moment.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I’m here,” Steve said. He tapped his palm on the counter, returning Sharon’s smile. “Thanks, Sharon.”

“Sure thing.”

Stepping down the hallway, Steve paused just outside the door to Peter’s room, his mind swirling with what Sharon’s cryptic words could possibly mean. What sort of mitigating circumstances could exist that would be murky enough to prevent a child from getting a potentially life-saving surgery, especially if he was as bad off as Sharon made it sound?

And she had only mentioned the boy’s father, so did that mean he didn't have a mom? Or that the mom wasn't involved?

Ultimately Steve knew it really wasn't any of his business, but yet he couldn’t help but wonder.

Inhaling a deep breath, Steve gently knocked on the door.

“Come in?” a small voice responded, weak and timid.

Stepping inside the room, Steve was greeted by a young boy, maybe ten or eleven years old, with probably the biggest and sweetest brown eyes that he had ever seen, partially hidden by a mop of brown curls that hung across his forehead. The boy’s skin was ghostly pale, nearly as white as the various bandages covering the three separate intravenous tubes, but he smiled kindly as Steve approached him, letting out a weak, wet cough as he raised his hand to wave hello.

“Hello,” he said, tilting his head as his eyes narrowed. “I’m Peter.”

“Hello Peter,” said Steve, attempting a smile. This boy was far, far sicker than Tyler had ever been, and Steve wasn’t quite sure he was comfortable with that yet. “My name is Steve.”

“Hi Steve,” said Peter. “You're not another doctor?”

“No, I’m not,” answered Steve. “I’m actually a pilot with the Langaran Air Corps.”

“Oh,” Peter said, eyeing Steve suspiciously. “Okay, so then why are you here?”

The prologue for The Phoenix Project will post on Monday, March 23rd, with new chapters posting weekly until the story concludes 😊

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racingtoaredlight · 3 years

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RTARL’s 2020 NFL Season Week 11 Extravapalooza

Holy moly, we’ve already made it to Week 11. I’m honestly conflicted over whether or not this is a good thing. In terms of basic pandemic mitigation practices, the NFL conducting its season is fucking insane. These guys are all well-compensated pros, but they’re still taking risks well above and beyond what they normally do, and I truly feel pretty shitty about that. In addition, the fact that some stadiums are allowing thousands of fans inside during games is a crime against humanity, and it really lays bare how craven and sociopathic the ghouls who own sports franchises are.

With that said, it’s extremely hypocritical of me to be so disdainful of the NFL’s current existence, since I watch the games, set my fantasy lineup, and generally enjoy all the stuff that comes with an NFL season. I usually bristle and roll my eyes whenever a sporting entity trots out the whole “We feel like we’re helping society by providing a distraction from everything going on” line, but in this case, with where we are right now as a country...the NFL really is doing that. For me, anyway. Is the stress-relief that the NFL provides to me and millions of other people worth all the bad stuff that comes with it? I don’t know. Probably not. But, I’d be lying if I said I’m not thankful that it’s there.

My picks are in BOLD, and the lines come to us courtesy of our friends at Vegas Insider. I use the “VI Consensus” line, which is the line that occurs most frequently across Vegas Insider’s list of sportsbooks. Your sportsbook of choice may offer a different number, and if you’d like my opinion on said number A) you are insane, and B) leave a comment below and I’ll try to answer at some point before things kickoff today.

EARLY GAMES

Tennessee Titans at Baltimore Ravens (-6)

It’s odd to have a game between a pair of 6-3 teams widely considered contenders that feels like a “must win” for each scuffling side. A great man once said “Desperation is a stinky cologne,” and the Titans absolutely reek coming into this one, so I’m giving them the edge. Baltimore being down two starting defensive linemen when Derrick Henry comes to town also factors into my pick, but nobody wants to hear that nerd shit, gotta go with my GUT, baby!

Philadelphia Eagles at Cleveland Browns (-2.5)

Hey, Cleveland doesn’t have to play in the middle of a tornado this week! There will still be driving rains, though. Fortunately, the Browns are built for the slop. RBs Nick Chubb and Kareem Hunt are both ridiculous, but I’d like to give a special shoutout to G Wyatt Teller, who is currently Pro Football Focus’ highest-graded player...in the entire NFL. That’s some grade A beef! DE and straight-up superhuman Myles Garrett is out for this one, which is an enormous blow for the Cleveland defense. If I had any confidence whatsoever in Carson Wentz I’d think about taking Philly, but that young man is a mess.

Pittsburgh Steelers (-10.5) at Jacksonville Jaguars

I’m once again betting on the Steelers playing down to the level of their competition. The Jags kept things close against the Packers last week, there’s fight in them thar cats.

Cincinnati Bengals at Washington Football Team (-1.5)

I’m still extremely nervous for Alex Smith the entire time he’s on the field, but I have to admit there’s something magical about him making it all the way back to being exactly as Alex Smith-y as he was before (minus the scrambling ability, obviously). Washington RB J.D. McKissic has 16(!) catches on 29(!!) targets over the two games Smith has started. If this continues J.D. is going to owe Alex a cut of his next contract, and possibly the mineral rights to his legs if the need arises.

Today is Cincy RB Gio Bernard’s birthday, so LOOK OUT LADIES!

Atlanta Falcons at New Orleans Saints (-3.5)

I’m making this pick based on the assumption that New Orleans really does roll with Taysom Hill at QB for the entire game, because that’s what all currently available information indicates will happen. I really do wonder if that’s going to be the case, though. I’ve read a couple of things speculating that the reason Hill is starting is that if Jameis plays he’s likely to reach various incentive clauses in his contract and cost the Saints a bunch of money. That seems utterly ridiculous to me, because why the hell would you bother signing him at all if this is how you were gonna roll? Then again, I’m not a Football Man, so maybe my un-browned normie brain just doesn’t understand.

Detroit Lions (-3) at Carolina Panthers

CATFIGHT!!!

The Lions are the orange kitty in this scenario, because Matthew Stafford will be playing through a torn thumb while not having WR Kenny Golladay or RB D’Andre Swift at his disposal.

New England Patriots (-2) at Houston Texans

The concept of an “emotional hedge,” first introduced to me by RTARL commenter Beer, is in play here. I have NO idea if the Patriots are actually decent or not, and this has all the makings of a letdown game coming off of their unexpected win over Baltimore. Reigning Defensive Player of the Year Stephon Gilmore is expected to be back for the Pats in this one, which is very nice. RB Sony Michel is also likely coming back, which could muddy the backfield and take touches away from Damien Harris, which is less nice.

The Patriots have an atrocious rush defense, but Houston’s primary RB, Duke Johnson, is far better as a receiver than as a straight-up runner, so I’m not sure they can take advantage all that much. In addition, Duke’s receiving skills are mostly squandered because QB DeShaun Watson hates checking down and seemingly prefers to take sacks while looking for throws downfield instead. Wait, why the hell am I picking Houston here??? Is this what hedging is? I don’t like it!

LATE GAMES

New York Jets at Los Angeles Chargers (-9.5)

It feels weird to lay 9.5 points with a 2-7 team, but such is the power of the Jets’ ineptitude. To New York’s credit, they were competitive in two of their last three games (against NE and BUF), but those two games were sandwiched around a 35-9 beatdown at the hands of Kansas City. We would all feel better if the cool, young Chargers steamrolled these sad sacks in a joyous explosion of big plays, and this pick is my attempt at speaking it into existence.

Miami Dolphins (-3.5) at Denver Broncos

I don’t know why I have an affinity for Drew Lock, but I do. He probably appeals to the same part of my brain that delights in terrible movies and horrible jokes, which is the most backhanded compliment I have ever given anyone in my entire life. Drew's gonna tough it out and try to play through a rib injury this week, which is gutty and admirable and all that, but I can’t imagine it’s going to help his already shaky accuracy.

Green Bay Packers at Indianapolis Colts (-1.5)

The Packers are getting their best defensive player back in CB Jaire Alexander, which will make life more difficult for increasingly-noodle-armed Colts QB Philip Rivers. Conversely, Indy’s defense is among the best in the league, so I don’t really see a carnival of offense coming from the Packers, either. Honestly, this should be a close, well-played game between two exceedingly competent squads. The kind of game where there will be long stretches where nothing major happens, but you can point out random shit that happens away from the ball and talk about line play and really sound like you know what the fuck you’re talking about. A tremendous game for fraudulent football-knowers everywhere.

Dallas Cowboys at Minnesota Vikings (-7)

It would be an INCREDIBLY Vikings move to lose this game outright. The return of Andy Dalton is being treated like it’s something that’ll get the Cowboys somewhat back on track, but prior to his injury he looked like crap, so I don’t really know where that’s coming from. Also, while he was out with a concussion he had a bout with COVID-19 that “hit him hard.” It’s tough for me to imagine he’s going to play BETTER coming out of what sounds like a truly shitty few weeks.

SNF: Kansas City Chiefs (-7.5) at Las Vegas Raiders

A lot has been made about how pissed Kansas City is about the Raiders taking a supposed “victory lap” in their team bus around the Arrowhead parking lot after their win over the Chiefs earlier in the season, and I’m choosing to completely buy into this narrative because it’s fucking hilarious. If K.C. has already reached the “needing to exaggerate/outright invent slights to get up for regular season games against inferior opponents” portion of their reign, we’re in great shape for entertainment purposes going forward.

MNF: Los Angeles Rams at Tampa Bay Buccaneers (-4)

I don’t remotely trust Jared Goff against Tampa Bay’s defense. I do think this is probably our SMASHMOUTH NOSEBLEED GRIND IT OUT Game of the Week, and I can already see Tom Brady screaming at his offensive linemen at some point after he gets popped a couple of times during a single possession. Should be fun!

Last Week’s Record: 7-5-1

Season Record: 65-68-5

#Sports!#Footballl #NFL #Gambling

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transformersvn · 4 years

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Thoughts on Transformers: War For Cybertron - Siege

General conclusion: Very pretty, though the writing isn't fantastic. I had fun with it. If you're a Transformers fan (and if you’re on this blog you probably are), you'll probably enjoy it. If not, you might have some trouble knowing who's who, but you should still enjoy the visuals.

(Coming at this from a background of mostly TFP and MTMTE/LL.)

Under a cut because this got long. Going through The Good, The Bad, and The Spoilers.

The Good:

It's really pretty. There's an almost claymation quality to the animation and I really like the heavily scratched but polished look everyone has. The lighting is really well done too.

With a few exceptions (coughProwlcough) the G1 character designs work pretty well.

For some reason, I find Shockwave tapping on his datapad with his gun-arm very funny.

The voice acting is mostly good. Megatron's good, and I have to give Starscream and Wheeljack credit for actually putting a voice on rather than sounding like generic Autobot #3.

I liked their approach to Starscream. And Ratchet's backstory is a bit more interesting than just "the medic".

If you're a G1 fan, there's a good chance you'll see your favourite character at some point.

There are a lot of nods to Transformers lore.

Megatron's propaganda moments were pretty well done (and his portraits were amazingly ridiculous).

Megastar shippers will be happy.

The Bad:

There are a *lot* of characters, very few who are named clearly. I'm coming to this from knowing a lot about Transformers and I'm still struggling with the 2nd-3rd tier characters at times. I can make a guess and it's usually right, but I think a newcomer would have a hard time of it - especially given all the palette-swapping.

The writing is pretty mediocre. The plot makes very little sense and everyone's kinda trope-y. At least once it sounded like Optimus disagreed with himself during one conversation, but it turned out he was making a weird reply to Elita.

Speaking of Optimus, his voice actor isn't the best. It's a very Batman-y take on Optimus and it's plagued with weird pauses in his speech that muddy his meaning. Not helped by his vague motivations.

Ultra Magnus. Just, Ultra Magnus. I can accept him making poor choices (ones that are kinda justified in fairness), but he doesn't follow through in any meaningful way. Then his arc makes even less sense as the series unfolds. Plus, he didn't quote a regulation once - if you can shoehorn in Soundwave saying "inferior", why not have Magnus do what he's well-known for doing? It's worse than Shockwave not getting to say "logical".

The fight scenes are a bit confusing at times, weird cutting mostly.

Can we stop coding the Decepticons black? Please? The former-slaves-who-rose-up-but-then-grasped-power-and-turned-evil narrative is pretty uncomfortable these days. Yes, I know this is coming from a cartoon in the '80s, but there's only so far you can mitigate things with Optimus's stance on revolution.

It could've used a few more episodes to let things breathe and maybe show some of the consequences of Decepticon and Autobot choices.

The Spoilers:

If you'd lined up the main Decepticons and asked me which one was going to switch sides, I wouldn't have needed previous knowledge of SkyJetfire to know who it was going to be. It's a bit bad when you colour-code their optics, even if it is staying true to G1.

Speaking of Jetfire, someone needs to slap the word "honour" out of writers' hands until they can figure out what they're actually trying to say. The only reason Ultra Magnus didn't shoot Megatron in the back when given a chance should've been because he still thought there was a way to reason with Megatron, *not* because his honour couldn't allow him to shoot someone in the back.

People "die" offscreen way too often only to reappear and have other people surprised. How durable are Cybertronians? It's a bit plot-armour-y and the Decepticons have quite a bit of generic mook stupidity that's a bit frustrating when they fail to check bodies. And even when they do and find Impactor's arm, he's still alive? But Skywarp didn't survive despite being good to fly for a while after being shot?

My goodness, who could this mysterious cloaked stranger with Ultra Magnus's distinctive shoulders be? Ultra Magnus?!?! I never would've guessed.

If Ultra Magnus had the Alpha Trion Protocols and *still* ended up doing a wishy-washy surrender (it could've been so much better if he'd actually had any kind of leverage against Megatron and truly attempted a peace treaty, but it ultimately felt like a drawn-out suicide by warlord) what's to say that him passing on the Protocols to anyone else would work better? Why would Optimus listen any better to someone new?

(I would've liked it if Bumblebee had kept the Protocols and then they could've leant towards Hot Rod showing up to get passed the Matrix of Leadership too, get a new generation of people who can actually make use of the things and not spend their time waffling about faith.)

Optimus is such a bad leader. I don't think I can stress this enough. Especially when you've got Megatron on the other side who's mostly decisive (if evil) and it's clearly working for him. Optimus feels very impulsive and always falls back to "just have faith in me" when he can't find a good reason for what he's doing. I shouldn't come out of this thinking that if I was in Megatron's position of having to work with Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus during the initial revolution, then I would've snapped too.

Optimus's decision with the Allspark made so little sense. Yes, keep it out of Megatron's hands, but it seemed highly likely that he was going to kill *everyone* left on Cybertron with his stunt. How is that better?

#non VN stuff #transformers #WFC #war for cybertron #siege

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ficauthor · 4 years

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You can erase memories but not love.

Jimmy neutron fanfiction? in 2020? on my blog? more likely than you think.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25206202

Pairing: Jimmy/ Cindy

Warnings: none

Jimmy Neutron 2005

Simplicity was the best form of action in this sort of situation. He just needed to not overthink it. That was all, just pop in and out. A quick bullet point to strike off his to-do list. He just needed to… he just needed to check. That was all. Just to be sure. Double check that there weren’t any stray mistakes. Just to be certain that he’d actually truly fixed the timeline. It’d been awhile, far too long if he thought about it logically, since Libby’s party. Should have checked as soon as it happened.

Really he should have jumped over to his lab fifteen whole years in the future the second everything had blown over. As soon as Libby and Ci- as soon as Libby stopped berating him. Instead he let it fester, the worry, scientific curiosity overtaking more processing power than strictly necessary. After all, he reasoned day after day, week after week, Robocop had disappeared with his failed gift. That was the truest proof anyone needed to see that the alternate future had been broken. Unfortunately that wasn’t what he was worried about. Well that wasn’t strictly true, there was some small concern, even without the serum turning Libby evil there was always the risk of adverse effects. Regardless, that wasn’t what he wanted to check. Not truly. No the true source of his worry was more personal in nature. Yet…

Every time he went down to his lab, fully intending to turn forward time on the arch, his stomach churned. The thought alone of what may lay on the other side setting everything within him off. The future was much more delicate than he’d assumed. All Hypotheses he’d banked on had predicted that time was a constant, something only partially malleable by him or anyone else. Everything that had happened would happen and had always happened. Jumps to the past, even when it came with a change to his present never felt real in the same way. There was a tangibility in them that felt more like a series of options, like they were diverging paths he could always retread. They were paths that he had retread. After the first mistake of time it was as simple as reversing what he’d done. But now?

He didn’t know where those paths went, and couldn't see their ends. Couldn’t predict where they would lead. Hypothesis was hypothesis for a reason, there was always room for interpretation or mistake. Time wasn't exactly something they could cement into a full theory. Though he liked to think of all the scientists he was possibly the closest to understanding it. Maybe that was ego, he’d seen how fast his own future had dwindled. It’d smacked him in the face, how in so little time, in just fifteen years he could be so stupid. Lose what he found so valuable to himself. Crammed even further in his head was that angry bitter marriage. Washing Cindy’s mother’s feet and getting yelled at by her.

Set in the in between He worked about making a much smaller version of his Chrono arch. Heart clambering up his throat beating faster should be physically possible. He ran the final batch of tests on the mini arch. If he knew not better, He’d think his heart had grown arms and was clawing its way out.

But it was time.

After a month of putting it off it was finally time. No longer could he go on without knowing. Without checking, his future self would remain in his mind in that constant state of being. Stupid to the point of farse, and genius to Nobel prize level, both consistent and remaining at the same time. Regardless of impossibility. Married and miserable and unmarried and successful. A schrodinger's problem of his own twisted making, both back to normal in the exact state of being that he wanted, and also in a fate he didn’t want. Was it better or worse that it was a marriage to Vortex of all people? That his fate was tied to hers in specific? A state of flux where they were either miserable together or happy apart. All of this would be simpler, so much simpler, if he just understood where they stood. That blasted Island had done nothing but muddy the lines further. He wasn’t going to become a victim of time. Unlike all of the greats he had a time machine, he had succeeded where all the others had failed and had made himself able to predict and escape his folly.

He fiddled with his watch as the arch thrummed to life... his modifications to make it more stable seemed to help. It'd really taken some damage when the cop bot went through even, the mini double seemed stubborn from the damages caused by that. He supposed it was the paradoxical nature of it, it was changing the timeline by going back thus scrambling things. Though he could not be certain. Time wasn’t exactly the constant that He’d hoped it was.

All his calculations seemed to point towards the portal remaining stable if he went through and back with no major deviation. Especially since he wasn’t going to change anything if he didn’t need to. Quick pop in at the lab, check Vox’s records, and then head home. This time the hole was going to be much much smaller even to mitigate the damage. Just large enough to carry him. It was even collapsible stored with just enough energy to transport one person there and back, hopefully. He’d run the numbers at least twenty times to be sure, time was after all not what he thought it to be. Roughly though the smaller the hole the better. At least he hoped. Last thing he needed was to rip an irreparable wound in time.

Goddard barked, circling around him no doubt eager to join him on an adventure. He’d have to go over Goddard's code and systems. Just to make sure, he didn't like the way the other Goddard’s shining plating had rusted and corroded, his processors no longer sparking or glowing with as much vigor. That however was a problem for him when he returned from his trip.

"No boy!" Jimmy called him down while Goddard wasn’t exactly living flesh he didn't know how much energy transporting him to would exert in the arch. If he was lucky Goddard would just be counted as inanimate, if he wasn't? Well it was just easier to go on his own.

Goddard whimpered looking down.

"Awh I'm sorry boy," he kneeled down scratching his chin the gesture soothed his dog," but it's better this way. Fewer variables. You understand... don't cha Goddard?"

He let out an excited yip wagging his tail before rushing over to his lab bed and curling up on it. Jimmy turned back to the Chrono-arch with any luck his adult counterpart shouldn't even know he's there. He’d set the arch to send him there at roughly mid-day, a time where most people were at work or school.

Easy in, easy out.

James Neutron 2020

"Aw, our little boy is moving out!" His mom cried out her voice filled with emotion. She’d gotten a little clingier in the weeks leading up to this. Her green eyes crinkled at the edges in the evenings as she pushed for him to stay longer with them. Tea and cookies always set out as she tried to squeeze in as much bonding as possible.

He usually acquiesced. After all who was he to refuse her baking?

They were in their fifties now. Weren’t getting any younger, their streaking grey making that clear. Dad’s solid blocks that grew from the temple's hair still roughly the same as always. Made sense there really wasn't much for him to change, His dad liked his haircut and wasn’t going to change it. His mothers own greys took root from the center of her hairline. Swirling down long and loosely curled, his mother always managed to look elegant even in the most bizarre of situations. She’d long since ditched the bangs that had framed her face in his youth and now went for a much more modern layered look. Both not quite elderly Neutrons were in surprisingly good shape for their ages. Mom ran a cycling club and Dad a dancing troupe in their retirement. Though, James supposed that a little over a decade of running from his experiments and nemesis will keep one in shape. Nothing quite got the blood pumping like running for your life! His dad often joked. He wasn’t wrong, most of the town was able to run a recent marathon better than expected for a reason. Still even with their firmly grasped remnants of youth he wasn’t about to squander what was left. Dad’s recent accident had made the dwindling time clear as glass.

"Mom," James whined out," I moved out four years ago!” he reminded her with a laugh as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a smothering hug,” I'm just finalizing my lab movement."

They were smiling but there was something off about it. If he hadn’t grown up watching them try to hide their fear or sadness because of experiments he wouldn’t have been able to read it. Underlying his theory there was a twinge of uncertainty. While his Autism Diagnosis a few years ago had largely altered nothing in his life he found himself less and less certain about his abilities to read people because of it. He’d always been an awkward kid but he’d assumed for the longest time that it was just the disparity between intelligence's. Yet those little handbooks and pamphlets he’d been handed made him uncertain. It’d helped in some ways to know concretely where his differences lay, yet naming it alone added a veneer of difference. He was not like others.

Especially those diagrams of facial expressions. You couldn’t really quantify human emotion like that, and believe him he’d tried, he’d done his best to figure out the exact chemical balances that correlated to happiness, sadness, anger, all of them, but time and time again the results were meddling at best. Even his old invention designed to scan and read expressions had truly backfired.

"And I'm not a kid anymore,” he pouted at his mother, he was a grown man thank you very much! He didn't see Teen or child him going out and paying taxes or arranging their own therapy sessions now did he? ” I'm 27 and-"

His father put an arm around his shoulder effectively silencing him," we know Jimbo but you'll always be our little boy!"

James smiled leaning ever so slightly into his father's embrace. Embarrassing as he was, he wasn’t exactly about to turn down a patented Hugh Neutron hug, even a half sideways one. Something about the warmth and softness of his sweater vests and the steadiness of his arms was comforting in a way so few things were.

"Well I'm not gonna be far,” he reassured the last thing any of them needed was for one of them to cry, because then they’d all be crying. As soon as Dad’s big eyes spilled it was over for all of them,” our new apartment is only 40 minutes out and the new lab 45 I'll text you the location I swear."

Mother smiled a weak trembling thing held with emotions he could hardly read, half translated and murky with multiple meanings," I know honey and we're both very happy for you both, it's a big deal that you're both living together now but it just won't be the same." She brushed a strand of hair from his eyes, he’d forgone the gel today, even with most of the work done his hair usually fell out of it by the end of it. “We won’t be able to check up on you to make sure you’re sleeping and eating right anymore.”

“You also won’t have anymore explosions shaking the foundation of the house,” he offered in a half joke,” just think of how much better the insurance will be without needing to worry about it cracking?”

She laughed,” I’d be fine with the price sweetheart.”

"And of course, we'll miss Goddard!" His father exclaimed, bending down and petting the aforementioned dog. He had some slight rust in his joints, James was due to replace them soon, and his code was a little messy having originally written it when he was still in elementary school but he still glowed bright and jumped as eager as ever. There was nary of creak in his body.

A smile cracked on James' face at the mention," I actually got you guys something!" He rummaged through his satchel

"Awh Jimmy!" his mom’s voice cracked.

"Now, son,” the raw sound was in his fathers tone as well,” housewarming gifts normally go the other way around."

"I know,” His friends made sure to remind him of that fact when he’d made them but it wasn’t like that. “Think of this as a 'thanks for putting up with me putting you guys in mortal peril for so long' gift."

He pulled out a space compressor box, the newest and most stable. Man the explosion from the first one had really been a wake up call, he’d since made sure to tighten the math and double check for dangerous variables. He fiddled with the buttons until the gifts popped out. Gasps came from his parents.

"They have some of Goddard's tamer features,” he started looking away from the pair scratching the side of his face,” None of the really experimental ones, so they won’t burn the carpet or anything,” he reassured eyes catching a particularly bad mark near the stairs,” but if either of you ever gets in trouble they can defend you in a pinch."

"Oh, Jimmy!" His mother exclaimed tears welling up in her eyes. She picked up the one that was clearly hers, a small compact Cat bot. In the years since designing Goddard he’d ironed out how to curve metal more consistently. Goddard, like most old dogs, was resistant to change. Further than that, resistant to an entire overhaul of his design, but the test pieces couldn’t just go to waste. So the usable ones, the ones not weakened by too much soldering, went towards this project.

Dad’s bot was of course a Duck, though he did have a few extra, secret features that were a surprise.

"I haven't named them," he said, rubbing the back of his neck as their gazes pierced him again. God how had he ever thought he was neurotypical? He kind of laughed at the idea now, it was lucky that he ,Carl, and Sheen had found each other at such young ages. Their connection at being outcasts made more and more sense the more they learned with age. "I thought you'd both want to do that-" He inhaled sharply as they collected him in a hug. The warmth of the cat's servos pressed into his gut. It was kind of nice.

“Thank you son,” His father murmured as his mother collected herself.

When they finally separated from their embrace he didn't comment on the wetness in either of their eyes, and they returned the same courtesy.

His father was quick to speak,a hand offered in assistance as always," Need any help with your equipment."

Flashes of his father trying to help him but inevitably causing some sort of mess played before his eyes. Not to mention the older man’s knee was still in repair. His glowing brace made that clear, not that the man would heed it any attention. There was a reason James had made certain that his brace wasn't going to leave until the projected date it was healed. Well meaning as the man was he wasn’t going to forget the way his father had crashed the Hover car anytime soon.

"Thanks, dad but Sheen and Carl already helped me with the really heavy stuff a few weeks ago. Goddard and I should be able to handle this on our own. It's mostly collecting the last remnants of Vox's hard drive and a few odd projects.” Specifically some of his oldest ones that had been pushed the furthest into corners of his lab,” Besides Cindy should be here soon, she gets off work in a bit."

His mother placed a kiss on his forehead she had to lean up and James crouched down to help but the sentiment was there regardless.

"Just call us if you need anything."

"I will mom!" He shouted back as he headed to the old lab.

The house hadn't changed much since his youth.

The pictures of the family were updated and the wallpaper replaced (it desperately needed it after that chemical accident), but most of the original furniture was still there. It was honestly jarring for James. The change was good, he knew that, his parents knew that, hell even his therapist knew that but it was still hard to deal with. Something in his brain was just hardwired to detest change. Kind of like Goddard if he thought about it. Even the best of coders put a bit of themselves into their projects.

He sighed," you ready to get the last of it all Goddard?" He asked, hair hesitantly held just out of range of the scanner.

The canine barked his tail wiring as he wiggled excitedly. Even ran in a little circle, his high energy even now infectious. James smiled at it, if there was at least one thing consistent in his life it was Goddard.

"Then let's take a trip down memory lane," he said, scanning his hair for the last time.

Jimmy Neutron 2020

Stepping through the pink and purple light was once again a jarring swirling mess. His vision swam and stars flew past his eyes but after a vigorous head shake it was cleared. If he ever wanted to travel through time again he’d have to find a better way.

Best to get started as soon as possible

"Alright, Vo- He stumbled looking around in shock.

The Lab was very empty.

Exceedingly so, it looked like back when it was just a basement, well bigger than before but just as barren. The lack of projects in the room made his voice echo around bouncing on the concrete. Had he been robbed? There was nothing there, nothing! Just a few boxes pushed far in the corner with a mess of wires spilling out. His remnants of the Chrono-arch were gone, the cloning machine... well that one was probably good. His hover car, rocket, alien space car. Everything. All of those memories were gone! Burn marks from inventions and stains from spills were covered by other less familiar scorches and discolourations. There was nothing left of what was once his lab.

His giant costume fit computer screen for Vox was missing! Everything was gone! All that was really left were a few... well he was pretty sure they were computers but they looked nothing like the bulky ones he retrofitted at home. Computers back at home were much thicker, the monitors taking up large swaths of space and the clunky towers that housed everything important were so big head to get help to move them. Instead the one he was looking at was nothing like that. It was sleeker, thinner, with nicer screens and a cleaner color palette. Not to mention he couldn't see where the hardware as a whole was being stored; there was no tower for it.

Huh, he might have to consider making his own computers thin like these.The keys on the keyboard were much sleeker too. Each of them shallower than the mismatched ones on his custom keyboard, each of them rounded into a smooth flat shape. Carefully he picked it up. To his surprise, the screen came up with a keyboard. Once it was lifted he could hear the hum of the electronics and the gentle whir of his fan. All of the hardware was internal, and much more compact than he thought feasible. Genius it really allowed for a more compact and portable design.

"Vox?" He asked the device. Perhaps his future self had set her code into this form. It would be more convenient to have a more portable Vox. Maybe when he returned it be good to set on a cleaner smoother design like this.

Something whirred to life behind him. There were some bigger monitors that he’d missed somehow. When off they blended cleanly with the wall, now one he could see that they had no discernible edges. Still they were smaller than the one at home. Furthermore they looked much more temporary, like they were set to be removed.

"Analyzing voice pattern. Please state name and age."

"Jimmy Neutron age 12 and a half."

More noise went off as the system compared notes.

"Partial match to James Issac Newton Age 12 from the year 2005. Confirm please?"

Jimmy wasn't too sure what to say to that," uh?"

"Analysing," Vox's smooth voice reverbed," analyzation inconclusive. Intruder, Intruder, Intruder."

The entire lab was screaming with Vox's synthesized voice.

"AUgh ah!" Jimmy cowered, covering his ears," No no no no, Vox it's me! it's Jimmy!"

He motioned his hands up and down trying to get it to register that it was too loud. He’d programmed her to understand his body language, it could read certain gestures but it wasn’t working instead she continued on. Its voice echoing in the near-empty lab.

James Neutron 2020

He was halfway down the stairs to his lab, when Vox started to go off. Loud and screaming, maybe his next alert system should be a bit less shrill.

"That can't be good!" he exclaimed, glancing at Goddard before hurrying down the stairs. It wasn’t like Vox to go off at nothing, which meant something was really wrong. Vox only went off for really bad cases. After some really bad break ins he had to change the protocols. Still he could hope it was just one of his friends messing around in the lab accidentally setting off something they shouldn't

Something told him that wasn't the case.

"Goddard warm-up your stun ray, we don't know who's in there."

At the foot of the stairs was his hand scanner still clearly dormant. It shouldn’t be dormant like that. Especially if it was Just Carl or Sheen goofing off in there. Shoulders tense and raised he put his hand on the scanner causing it to light up. His scanner would stay on for an hour after use. And after that the Light above the door would glow until whoever entered left. Neither were alight right then. He usually used it to alert either him or Cindy to the other being in there. Meaning that someone had gotten in either long ago and stayed past someone else leaving, or without having to go through his precautions.

Unsheathing his own stun gun from his pants he opened the door to the lab and crept in.

His eyes bounced around frantically searching for the intruder. His mind instantly went to all his different foes from when he was younger. He'd defeated them. They all had. But there was still that lingering thread of fear. Even with all of his moves for redemption he was still wary of his clone. It’d have been an awfully long time for him to have waited to turn but it wouldn't be the first time that his doppelganger had tried to trick him. Or the second, or the third, or the fourth.

Okay so he might be a little gullible.

Then there were the others. If his clone could escape his own dark matter dimension hell then the others could escape the prison. Maybe he should have let them all stay in the past but that wasn't safe. It was never going to be stable to allow them to linger in the cretaceous period and the BTSO had promised that their containment was the most secure in the country. If even one of them had gotten out again... The threats alone some of them made, some of the actions they’d followed through on. It made him jumpy sometimes, gave him nightmares. His therapist said it was trauma. Lingering on the past wasn’t going to get him anywhere, he allowed his blaster to make a threatening high pitched whine as he moved it side to side. The sound didn't do anything but people found it more threatening when a malfunction had led to it so he wasn’t going to disable it.

Finally, his gaze lowered a bit and he was met with-

"You! You're!" the high pitched stunned voice of his own past self stammered. The boy looked shell shocked and nervous to be anything but the real deal. Even little Eddie with his intelligence hadn’t quite hammered down cloning. No his specialty was still firmly in the realm of weapons. Though his therapy was helping him unpack some of his anger. Seemed tempers ran in the family a bit.

"Intruder, intruder, intruder! engaging Attack mode in 5. 4-"

"Vox disengage."

"Affirmative James Neutron. Attack mode Disengaged.

“Goddard you too boy,” he added on at the remaining weapons all clicked back into place and powered down.

With a whir and bark, he powered down his stun gun before turning to Jimmy cocking his head to the side. His younger self looked up at him, his hand rubbing the back of his neck," Uh hi..." he waved, lifting his free hand up slowly.

“Vox confirm voice sample as Jimmy Neutron circa 2004 to 2006.”

“Affirmative,” her voice echoed. The room filled with a recording dated from moments before, “Jimmy Neutron,” his own younger voice repeated from the speakers. “Conclusive, voice belongs to Jimmy Neutron from 2005. This is improbable, Prime weapons sir?”

"No, continue to disengage. Thank you Vox."

"You're welcome sir."

Well that settled it, it was in fact him and not some trick, even his clones had different voices that Vox didn't really quite read the same. James examined him looking for injuries or some sort of explanation on his person for his arrival. He was still wearing the big baggy t-shirts James saw. He also hadn't reached his growth spurt yet either. Hair was still styled to be half his height. He looked like he was about ten or eleven. Which made sense, that was about when he had developed the Chrono-Arch. He didn't remember this visit as a kid though, despite even his best attempts. He desperately racked his brain but it was foggy and indistinct almost as if something was keeping the memory from him. There had to be some reason for his past self’s visit. He must have just forgotten it in the mess of everything that had happened since then. He could hardly be blamed if he did forget, there was a lot that happened to him during his school career.

"What's this?" the younger him asked, pointing to the table.

James looked," That? oh, that's my laptop. I guess those weren't really common when I was young huh..."

He racked his brain for the technology that was available as a kid. Much of it was deeply disappointing, part of why he went into invention so young.

Recognition flitted on Jimmy's face," A laptop? but the ones commercially available are so bulky! Not to mention expensive!"

"Yeah, well," James said," innovation does that."

Jimmy nodded in understanding. He was accepting this all fairly well," where is everything?"

"Well, I'm moving out."

"Why?"

"It's just time."

Jimmy nodded, seeming to take that information in as he reexamined the now empty lab in a new light. What he’d give to remember this, it’d be nice to have insight into what was rattling in the boy's head.

“What about all of that?” Jimmy asked, pointing to a pile of his oldest intentions, at the top was one of his later models of the hypo-ray.

“Less refined inventions,” he supplied,” I didn’t need it right away so I was storing it here till now.”

“Oh.”

A beat of silence filled the room as neither James nor Jimmy spoke up.

"So, Jimmy," he said, eventually chewing out the syllables. "What brings you to my time? Any disaster that you need advice on or something?" He didn't know what to do with his hands. He never did but there was something about seeing himself, as a kid at his most insecure that made him doubly unsure. Little him was still hardly taller than his elbows.God had he really been so small? He remembered hitting his growth spurt late and being the shortest of the group but this was extreme.

"No, I'm just here to, uh, double-check the timeline, I have to ensure that it wasn't ruined by the tampering." he smiled, but there was something off about it. He must be rattled from the time travel if he remembered correctly traveling to the bad timeline had been jarring to the senses. The portal wasn't really designed for comfort like some of his other inventions. It was strictly utilitarian,a lot of his inventions back then were.

"Well," he said, racking his brain to remember all of the important beats," Libby is not in power enslaving Retroville to do her bidding and listen to all her music. So that’s good. In fact, people listen to her music willing. She's a pretty good singer. Somewhat popular in niche communities.”

"Really?" Jimmy asked,”She'll be glad to know that, she's still a little mad at Carl, Sheen, and me for the whole party thing."

Probably for the best if he didn't mention the fact that she’d be upset about that for a while. Looking back on it he really couldn't blame her for her reaction. Almost all of her gifts had been destroyed.

James chuckled," yeah she still brings up time to time when we all get together."

Just last week at their semi-regular game night she’d used it to make Sheen give her the upper hand in game. A dirty tactic but she was right, all was fair in love and war and unfortunately for Sheen and everyone else she was going to use Sheen’s big heart against them to win.

"Oh, we're still friends with her?" Jimmy asked, seeming genuinely caught off guard.

"Well yeah," James said," why wouldn't we?"

As mad as Libby had gotten about the gift thing it wasn’t like the group of them hadn’t gone through worse together. Even if she would’ve stopped talking to them for awhile she would have come back for whatever the next adventure was. They were all just to invested in that back then.

Jimmy shuffled his feet," Libby and Cindy just always seem so annoyed with me, I just kind of assumed they stuck around because Libby was seeing Sheen."

James nodded, memories of those feelings were starting to filter back in. Time however had softened their edges and left it blurred like looking through fogged glass," No we're all still friends, Me, Carl, Sheen, Libby, and Cindy. In fact Ci-"

"Are Carl and Sheen still doing what they're supposed to?" Jimmy interrupted, almost too eagerly.

James looked at him. It was weird of him to cut James off. Sure He used to be really bad about letting people finish a sentence but Jimmy had cut him off like there was something he didn't want to hear yet," uh I guess, it's been a while so I don't remember the predictions fully but Carl is breeding Llamas, and Sheen is a successful male model. He also stars in Libby's music videos sometimes. Reasonably she refuses to let him sing."

Jimmy nodded," Makes sense, his singing is so bad that the school chorus rejected someone for the first time in fifty years."

"Well he hasn't improved with time I'll tell you that." James smiled as he remembered the last time Sheen had tried," He just croaks out the most out of tune lyrics and we all have to put in earplugs till he tires out."

Jimmy chucked. The smile didn't stay long, however," and me- you?"

That might be it. Why the other him was so nervous? Now that he thought about it the alternate future for him was simply to be a normal dude. "Well I'm moving to the city, just received a couple of Nobel prizes with my team," Jimmy's smile returned in full. He was proud of himself too, he and his experiment partners had worked really hard on that. Having the group push him to accept the award was really warming. Though they all should've gotten to go up there too.

"I knew it!" Jimmy exclaimed jumping up excitedly," my genius was finally recognized by the scientific community, now she'll have to recognize I'm smarter, because that contract didn't mean anything to her! She sti-"

"Wow," James laughed, he’d forgotten that he used to be like this," Cind was right, I really did have a pride issue." He’d have to apologize to her later for doubting her claims. Chalk his disbelief up to pride if you will.

"Cind? Do you mean Cindy? Vortex?" the bashful look returned to his face as he looked down and shuffled his feet," You and her aren't, she and I? I mean you aren't?"

James furrowed his brow examining his younger self. "Aren't?" It’d be so much easier if the younger boy would just spit it out. He couldn’t understand what he was getting at.

"Well you know," he ducked his head," mar-"

The sliding door opened," James," a voice called out softly, speak of the devil," you almost done? we have to get home- is that?"

"Cindy?!" Jimmy called out, looking panicked.

Cindy gave James an exasperated look," what did you do Neutron?" she asked almost fondly," did you test another time machine? After what happened last time?"

James sputtered," me? I didn't do anything. It was him! And in my defense it was partially Eddie’s fault!" Really his cousin's penchant for violence and fondness for weapons wasn’t his fault.

Cindy gave him a look," I thought you were supposed to be a genius?

“Hey!” Both of the Neutron’s present and past called out, though James' younger version sounded much more indignant.

“ He is you!"

James quickly quipped back in return. “Well sorry for the inconvenience madam I guess you were right and the density of my enormous skull has finally caved in.” This was their element of comfortable bickering back and forth. Trading light insults and criticisms in one breath and then calm and soft words in the next.

She snorted at him,” I’m always right, you nerd.”

“Well of cour-”

"How did you get in here!" Jimmy called out, interrupting their banter," I erased your memory of how to get into my lab!"

Cindy gave him an incredulous look. " you mean to tell me that you wouldn't tell your girlfriend how to get into your lab?"

Jimmy gagged," Girlfriend?"

Cindy turned to James," thanks I'm really feeling the love."

"I'm not the one saying anything," he gestured wildly.

Cindy pinched the bridge of her nose," need I repeat myself again. He is you."

"I don't even remember this happening?”

Cindy stepped forward and moved his head around. She ignored his younger self's protests to their interactions, moving right past the little Neutron to James,“What are you doing?” James finally asked with a laugh as she held open one of his eyes and peered into it. Not that he’d complain her eyes were a pretty shade of green, but his own were now drying in the crisp lab air.

“Checking for brain damage obviously,” she returned,” clearly if you can't remember you spent one to many nights down here soldering without proper ventilation.”

“That was one time!” She gave him a look,” okay but it only happened for a month!”

‘Stop!” Jimmy squeaked out,” this is weird.”

“Newsflash kid this whole situation is weird,” Cindy said, James noted, however, as she said that she stepped back. “You sure this isn’t one of their shenanigans?”

He nodded,” I don’t remember this but Vox ran an analysis and confirmed. I think it didn't work the first time though because the weapons were engaged.”

Cindy looked up at their storage seems and said,” Yeah I can see that Number three is stuck again,” she pointed up to the one crammed blaster that was half shut in the mechanism. He swore under his breath that it would be so finicky to repair later. He reached up and pushed it into the ceiling hole. The metal squeaked shut.

“You’re right.”

“I’m always right,” she pushed with a laugh.

“Eh,” he gestured vaguely his own smile cracking through.

Cindy laughed,” shut up.”

“This is bad,” his younger counterpart muttered, drawing them back to him.

“Huh?”

“This is really bad,” the boy repeated,” really really bad I didn’t fix the timeline at all!”

“Fix the-?” Cindy gave him a look.”What did you do?”

“I think this is still about the evil Libby timeline.”

“Oh that would make sense,” She nodded. “But then why would you not remember anything?”

James tapped his chin with his knuckle as he thought muttering under his breath, “I don’t know.”

“Personally I’m still voting on brain damage,” Cindy offered with a smile,” But knowing you it’s probably also an experiment gone wrong.”

Hypno-ray still tucked in the corner caught his eye," That’s it! Of course. You're a genius Cind!"

“What?” his younger self asked.

“It is?” Cindy pressed.”

He hit his own head," that's why I don't remember, older me, or me now erased my memory of this event happening!"

Cindy nodded a mildly impressed look in her eye,” Gotta Say Neutron that smoothly removes worries of ruined timelines.”

“It does doesn’t it,” he preened feeling distinctly proud of himself.

"No!" Jimmy exclaimed panicked," I have to fix the timeline!"

“Fix?” He and Cindy both asked.

“This!” Jimmy gestured to the two of them,”Whatever is going one between you two!”

He tilted his head, really taking in his younger panicked self. "There's nothing to fix, I'm happy."

The responding scoff surprised James," well I'm not! I don't even like Cindy!"

Cindy rolled her eyes,"Sure, tell me one thing though,” Jimmy looked up at her defensively,” has the island incident happened yet?"

His blush told them all they needed to know.

"See you do like her," James smiled gently gazing at Cindy.

"N-no,” his younger self floundered eyes darting around desperately for an answer he wasn’t going to find,” I don't- I- that's just a residual effect of love potion 976/J!" he was clenching his fists now as if he were going to fight them. Wouldn’t be the first time he'd gone for the violence route. Maybe he should also Hypno-ray himself into therapy.

Cindy turned to James with a shrug," I'm not dealing with the exhaustion that comes from dealing with an eleven-year-old you, I'll just take some stuff to the hovercar and meet me when you're done."

“I’m twelve and a half!” Jimmy exclaimed indignantly.

James nodded. "We'll talk later I promise," gently grabbed her hand. She smiled nodding, and with a kiss on the cheek, she left the lab.

Jimmy Neutron 2020

This future was not what he’d expected. It was not what he had wanted. Adult him was tall and weird. His hair was long enough to reach past his shoulders and was pooled into a low ponytail save a few stray strands. He held himself with more confidence than the bad timeline, that future possibility of him was hunched, his shoulders turned as inward as possible. But he wasn’t the same as before either. There was something less rigid in his shoulders, he just appeared to be expressed in a different tone than before. Even clothes were also more casual. Then there was Cindy. She looked physically similar to the adult Cindy of the bad timeline but now her hair was in a messy bun and her clothes were much more casual. Her face was even devoid of the blue eye shadow and glittery lip gloss that his, that current Cindy wore. Not that he actively payed attention to that sort of thing, their relationship was strictly professional after all. Sometimes the glitter just caught the lights of the lab. As soon as Cindy left he fell into an awkward seating position on the concrete. It was cold down there. Older him, James, was stupid after all.

"So here's the thing,” James sat next to him on the cold concrete. The Hypnosis-ray was held in his hand but powered off. His voice was soft, much softer than Jimmy had ever managed to get it. He sounded like mom did when she comforted him after something went wrong,” the love potion didn't really work like how we thought."

"What?" There wasn’t anyway, he’d run all of the tests, he had perfectly emulated the pheromones and chemicals related to love. He knew what he was doing gosh dang-it!

James chuckled," you can't make people fall in love. It was, an infatuation potion. All it did was mimic a lot of the physiological responses that come with attraction, eventually, it wears off," there was something in his tone, like how Jimmy sounded when his experiments went wrong. The disappointment at another failure.

His brain twisted at the words. He’d been so certain. The math alone had shown it, had he really been so wrong? "But Carl still likes mom!" he grasped onto finally, if anything didn’t prove the potion then maybe that would. He couldn't be wrong. Not again. What kind of genius was wrong as often as he was right?

James winced," yeah that one was embarrassing,” that was putting it lightly,” he eventually got over it though. He's even seeing someone now."

"Really Carl got a girlfriend?" Not a lot of girls in the class really liked Carl that way. At least that he was aware of.

James shook his head,” Nah you’ll forget this anyways but he’s got a boyfriend now, after high school, he realized he was bisexual."

"Oh..." he paused, unsure what to do with this information.

They were quiet again for a while, the both of them looking around the lab examining what was left, and the stains left on the floor from what was taken. It was empty and hollow in the glorified basement. He didn’t think he could ever leave his Lab.

"Er, how long..." He finally spoke up.

His older self jolted, "What?"

"Till the love potion wears off?"

"A week, if that.” he shrugged,” it was hard to tell really since each of us already had feelings for each person the potion worked on. The potion just made it harder to ignore.”

So he couldn’t even master chemical reactions in the human body. That was deeply disappointing, then maybe his disaster with the perfect candy should have clued him into that fact.

“W-when did you-” he took in a breath,” we start liking her?”

There was a pause as James thought,” Do you remember the first Yolkian attack?"

Jimmy nodded slowly, apprehensively. He remembered that event in perfect clarity. Everyone was so disappointed in him when they learned about his hand in it. All of it was his fault.

"Well, that was the start of it. If I'm honest,” a gentle smile crossed his face. It seemed to soften the features of his face into something rounder than before,” when she came to comfort me and over time that grew."

Despite himself he was thinking of that moment. Dark and cold in that prison, the metal and alien concrete much much colder than that of home. His tears rolling down his face while all his friends, classmates, everyone blamed him. Yelled at him for effectively signing their parents death warrants. Regardless of their feud though it was Cindy who came to him. Who comforted him. Propped him back up. As soon it was all over though they went back to normal. She hated him again. It didn't make sense.

"But I hate her!" Jimmy insisted but he knew didn't sound as sure as he had before. Cindy was mean, she made fun of him all the time, and she didn’t take his experiments as seriously. She was the one person that was the hardest to impress, no matter how hard he worked she always found some flaw. Some details that he could improve on. Regrettably she was always right. It was always something that made the invention better (when she wasn’t suggesting he paint it pink or put her name on it that is).

Worst of all he trusted her judgement, she was always right when she pointed out a danger, or flaw. She’d never really steered him wrong since they’d become friends.

James shrugged," it sometimes felt like that, but that's just cause I'm bad at handling my emotions. Trust me this stuff gets a lot clearer with a therapist and when you're no longer constantly in denial about hating your own body."

"I-I don-"

"I'm gonna stop you there little-me.” There was a sigh as his older self sunk into himself. Bizarrely he found himself recognizing it at the way he sighed when he had to admit something he didn’t want to. ”Okay, so, we were jealous of Cindy.”

“That’s ridiculous! I-I’m not jealous of Cindy of all people! She’s- she’s a girl,” he stressed the unspoken clear, he wasn’t. He wasn’t a girl.

James winced muttering something indistinct below his breath,” Not because she was a girl but because she found comfort in it like we couldn't. It-” he faltered, almost pained like the words were hurting him to admit,” It’s wrong but I was jealous that she could have had what we wanted but made the choice to honor that wasn’t her. It felt like a slap in the face even though we were just doing the best we could do. Both me and her. But eventually, I stopped being jealous of her for that. I grew up, because they were my emotions to deal with not hers. My hurt. And there were other things I didn't like, sure. The fact that she always told me I was wrong. Even though I definitely needed the ego check. And she constantly made fun of me for my height and head. But once she learned how uncomfortable it made me and why she stopped. Not to mention, we were just as bad you have to admit. We gave as good as we got."

"Cindy wouldn't- she's mean and bullies me all the time! That wouldn't be the line for her!"

A deep pained sigh racked through James' body," of course she stopped. You know why she wouldn't cross that line.”

"So you never erased it from her mind?"

James shook his head," I thought about it even ages after the body swapping thing, I always feared she'd bring it back up. But she didn't. And eventually I told Carl and Sheen. The whole class ended up learning eventually," he winced at something," but everyone was fine with it. Even Butch knew not to touch that with a ten-foot pole…” he snickered,” Cindy and Nikki would have murdered him."

"Okay," he said eventually, slowly he didn't believe the words James was saying. How could he? none of this made sense. It felt like these were things that happened to someone else. Not to mention he had no clue who the hell this Nikki was.

"How did you stop being jealous?'

James blinked, something about that question was clearly tripping him up," I don't really know I can't exactly remember. I just woke up one day and it was easier, eventually I did the rest an- oh."

"Oh?"

A wry chuckle echoed in the lab, "I'm pretty sure I just Hypno-rayed some of my jealousy away when I-you- augh whichever. When I was Hypno-rayed to forget this I think I also did a two for one and got rid of the biggest parts of my jealousy."

Jimmy looked down," so I really don't get a say in this? I don't get a chance to change it?"

James sighed," do you really want to? Wouldn't this information affect how you act around her? Your friendship? Do you want to lose that?"

Jimmy Neutron 2005

"Hey, Jimmy!" Carl was at the entrance of the lab waving at the camera," they just got a new baby llama at the petting zoo!"

Jimmy blinked, clearing his eyes, he was hunched over a project in the corner. Was it really that late already? He asked himself, looking at the clock. He didn't really remember a good chunk of the day. "I guess time flies when you're inventing," he muttered. There was some dried spit on the side of his mouth, he whipped it and tilted his head to his computer, "Vox let Carl in."

Carl screamed as he fell down to the chute into the lab," Jeez Jimmy can't you have an elevator, I feel like my scapula is gonna pop!"

"You were saying about the llamas?" he asked dully his brain still struggling to focus on the missing hours of the day.

"Oh!" Carl was smiling wide now," yeah they got a new one, it's small and spotted-"

Jimmy had already turned to his worktable the words of his friend being tuned out. His brain was just so unfocused, and he’d heard this llama rant before.

"That's nice Carl," he said in the spot he did last time they had this conversation. It'd been a long week since the Zoo had welcomed their newest llama

"And Sheen is going with Libby and Libby is dragging Cindy over-"

"Uh-huh - wait Cindy's going to be there?" Jimmy asked, trying to sound like he wasn't interested.

"Yeah," Carl dismissively waved his hand," and the baby llama has a Cat friend that was abandoned in the llama pin. And the llama mother took the kitten in to now they're friends," Carl's voice was pitched high and soft like it always did when he talked about llamas.

But Jimmy wasn't thinking about the llamas.

"Well I guess, I do need a break from inventing..." he slowly admitted.

"Yay!" Carl did a tiny hop," Come on let's go everyone is meeting up at the Candy Bar!"

"Okay," he said with a smile as he removed his goggles and gloves.

James Neutron 2020

"Did it all work out okay?" Cindy asked her boyfriend. A smirk on her face

"Yeah," James said with a returned smile,”you enjoyed that all entirely too much.”

“I was just teasing him,” she grinned,” you used to be so uptight.”

He rolled his eyes, putting down the heavy box holding the last of his things from the lab in the back of the hover-car. He gently kissed her on her cheek. "Sorry about all of that."

Cindy giggled," so I take it since the world isn't warping around us that you erased his memory?"

"You already know the answer to that Vortex."

She smiled," Yeah but what was it he was saying? That he doesn't like young me?" She batted her eyes dramatically. “How ever will I recover from this.”

James crawled into the seat next to her," Oh can it, you know I was a mess then, besides you weren't any better!"

She blushed," that's not the point Nerdtron."

"Oh it's not?" he asked with a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned forward his lips a breath away from her ear," cause I remember a certain someone wanting to abandon her life and live on a deserted island with me forever? Someone blonde and very pretty?"

"You promised to never bring that up again!" she squeaked out her ears lighting up just as red.

James laughed punching in the codes to his hover-car," you're the one that brought it up first."

"Did not!" She shrieked back with an embarrassed chuckle.

"Did too in the lab!"

As Cindy sputtered and argued back with fire in her eyes and a broad smile on her face James felt content. It took them a long time to get where they were. Yet in the end, it was worth it. he leaned in and kissed her gently effectively shutting her up while he started take off.

"What was that for?" she asked as they started home.

"Nothing," he shrugged," I just love you."

#Jimmy Neutron #Cindy Vortex #Jimmy/Cindy #Jimmy Neutron/ Cindy Vortex #JimmyxCindy #Jimmy Nuetronx Cindy Vortex #trans! Jimmy Neutron #Autistic!Jimmy Neutron #Bisexual Carl wheezer #i have head cannons i wanna share #this fandom may be dead but im not #im gonna just share this and hope the like three other people who are in the fandom rn read it #this is for you babes #i could tag this more with more info but im big lazy #hope you enjoy #My Writing #uwu sorry to the people who read the orriginal i just didnt like it lol.#itsbroadly the same i just expanded on it #an extended cut if you will lol. it was just too short for me

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insanetwocubes · 4 years

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So.... every lyke little bit of... viral piece of information. You need to take into account how it makes people feel (by understanding how if makes you feel).

If the feeling necessitates a certain course of action, you need to provide lyke a suggested call to action that you think will work decided on research and facts.

If it provides a necessity for inaction (there is no war in ba sing se) you need to look into that and evaluate if that is progressive.

Uhm one thing though.

If you always have a call to action isn't that like a perpetual feeling of things not being good enough?

Maybe the course of action can be something like praise and encouragment to continue positive action. Maybe it can be an important piece of study to find out how to recreate the course of action.

And could just be asking the course of action to just listen and feel empathy or gain more information on the world. But you have to vet that information so you know it is accurate. And add more sources for people to find more info on the subject.

Uhm. Either way, I'm not gonna lie, it's manipulating people. But if a lack of regulation is gonna lead to fascism, I think this is a sign something needs to be done.

Not that a central source of regulation is necessary. I think moving to a decentralized form of self-regulation is the future. Since more and more problems, especially mental health problems are best solved on a case by case basis.

Also maybe if we have a higher contrast of what helpful posts look like versus unhelpful posts, we can train people to better instinctually know what kind of info to trust.

This is obviously one of those unhelpful posts lmao. Everything on this blog is. This is a mental health blog. It's not for the public, it's for feelings, not fact or action.

So important things to keep in mind. Accuracy to reality, what is progressive for humans to believe, and the call to action whether it's to support something or learn something.

Something I read in an article likened the ability to publish on social media to being a proffessional news publisher. If you post and even reblog on tumblr or retweet on twitter, you are ethically resposible for the effect your posts and reblogs have on your followers. It is your responsibility if you mislead or are not transparent about the purpose of your blog.

Well okay. You are way past overthinking this and making it all the way undoable. What are the minimal steps here?

The minimal steps start with regulating yourself before you try to change the world. If you see something that makes you feel any type of emotion strong enough to reblog, notice your feeling and remember that this is the feeling you are passing on to your followers. If the feeling makes it harder for you to move on you need to provide a course of action to mitigate that negative effect. You either find a solution or a plausible source for a solution. Either to the problem that the article is about or how to resolve your emotions should someone else share your reaction. If the emotion helps you move on with your day or even encourages you, your suggested course of action is to spread the word by reblogging the post. Reblogging the post is an already implied suggestion through the platform so you don't have to add anything other than reblogging it yourself.

This applies to tools and posts that are already informative. Be careful when it comes to good news, though. Some of it is normalizing bad situations and discourages action. Things like "Teachers donate their holidays so dad can be with his sick daughter" is actually bad news about how the dad would've lost his job if he took off to visit his sick daughter without the other teachers helping. That's just one example. Some More News did an episode on it.

Cute animals doing cute things doesn't fall under this category so the call to action there is to just share the good feelings. I hope this makes sense.

Works of art and fiction is obviously fair play for mindlessness. The only course of action there is to continue to be entertained and maybe if inspiration does hit you, take advantage of that energy to create something yourself. Same goes for stim videos and other things that calm you down that are not lyke news about the world y'know. If something you see in fiction makes you mad or feel negatively, that's lyke a start to a whole new article. I mean I guess you can do research into how to resolve your feelings but I would leave that as strictly optional since the effect of fiction is usually to entertain you first, which is a positive feeling and any other feelings are secondary.

But if a work of fiction makes you re evaluate the world, this is the time to make your own post and share your research if you think it will make the world better suited for you.

Speaking of personal experiences and personal posts. This is where things get hairy. It is very important to share your own experience of life. No one is going to know what's going on in your head if you don't say it. It sometimes impossible to solve your own problems without putting them into words. And often times the times that we need to say something is mutually exclusive from the times that provide solutions. In cases of those posts, I would suggest to make an effort to separate venting and call of action. When you're venting, your call of action to your audience is to listen and empathize or sometimes ask for more information or help. This is where transparency of your blog comes in. If you make it clear that a post on your blog is venting, fewer negative reactions will come to it. However if you muddy the lines of venting and a call to action without thinking critically or providing accurate information, this is where communities regress. If you make a post that follows the lines of "this person did a thing and it triggered me therefore all people should stop doing that action." There are very few instances where you can get specific enough with your call to action that it doesn't have a negative effect that you can't percieve at first. If you aren't doing the research and really looking into solutions, you aren't thinking critically, you're thinking emotionally.

Basic emotional regulation strategies involve finding and using tools that help you contol the effect your emotions have on you in a healthy and sustainable way. An unhealthy way of dealing with emotions is falling into a generalization fallacy. If you muddy your venting by making your call to action a generalization of a certain type of people, you are spreading an unhealthy and unsustainable fallacy on your audience. Since it's an unhealthy strategy, it regresses the community.

Like I said. Most things that have to do with mental health are best dealt with on a case by case basis. Yes, it's more work. But imo a healthy community is worth the work.

What about memes?

Good point. So what we know so far is that memes hold an opinion of their own. A meme of something is a commentary on it.

Are they fiction or non-fiction?

Sometimes they are, sometimes they aren't.

So lyke a joke, right? It's commentary, but also it's entertainment.

Not everything that is entertainment is fiction.

Obviously lyke a meme like reposting in the wrong neighborhood is pure fiction. Just a funny sequence of imagery and songs. But there is a type of meme that is a commentary on the real word. Even if it uses fiction to state that commentary. We'll see what exactly to do about those. The ones that are pure art and fiction are mindless. But if something is a commentary on the real world, take very much care to pay attention to which facts it takes for granted and if those facts are accurate and if those facts are progressive for humans to believe in.

But then going back to art. A lot of art is commentary. Lyke videos and stuff.

Then same thing applies. You evaluate which biases and assumptions the commentary relies upon and if it's actually helpful to believe in the implications of such art.

Uhm we'll see if I come up with any more kind of guidelines. Again this is written just for me. Even if it doesn't sound like it. This just helps put my thoughts together.

~Flare

#Progressive guidelines #Dicerolls #txt #things1said #intersysconvos #things4said #like if you read reblog if you want

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washerdryer2clearance · 6 years

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How To Spot A Good Used Car Just From The Ad

When you buy a used car it can be a frustrating experience with many people feeling helpless and frustrated with no clear direction to go in. Buying a used car in a private sale will take a great deal of time but by reading into the content of the used car ad you can get a good best shapewear idea as to the mentality of the seller and potentially the condition of the car as well.

Ads that are very descriptive, including pictures, and detail the vitals about the car, its previous history, as well as the past and current mechanical condition are best. By providing detailed information about the car you are more easily able to determine if the car is a potential candidate for a good deal and worth taking the time to arrange an in person inspection with the seller. You could literally spend a lifetime looking at overpriced and unreliable cars when searching for a good deal.

Identify sellers who are serious about selling their used car. A descriptive and detailed ad will tell you that this car owner is serious about selling the car and understands what information is needed in order to actually consider pursuing the car further. A used car ad should tell Maternity Shapewear you the following information:

-Year of the car -Make and model of the car -The mileage currently on the car -Engine size -Transmission type (standard or automatic) -The current mechanical condition -Previous maintenance and repair history -Location of the car -Certifications & emission test information -Asking price -Telephone number

Avoid wasting time by skipping poorly written car ads. Ads that include less information than this are a time waster. washer dryer clearance If you are very interested in the car, or you suspect that the car might be a good deal despite the lack of information available in the ad, you can elect to pursue the car further by contacting the seller via email or telephone.

The only real downside of chasing the seller around for more information is that you can easily find a never ending supply of used cars for sale with non descriptive ads. You are better advised to spend your time pursuing the used cars for sale in which the current owner has made a concerted effort to provide you with the pertinent details about the car already.

Used car ads that have some information but lack certain critical information like the amount of mileage the car has are likely a waste of time also. Any person who posts an ad for a used car without the mileage of the vehicle is either trying to hide something or is simply not serious about selling the car. The vehicle mileage is one, if not the most important feature of a used car and should be included in every used car ad.appliances houston A great all around car with very low mileage is worth a lot of money. A great all around car with very high mileage is basically worth nothing. In almost every case where a somewhat descriptive ad for a used car exists where they do not specify mileage you will find that the car has high mileage. This is especially true with used cars being sold by dealerships as they specialize in promoting the good aspects of the car while neglecting to mention the negative aspects of the car.

Local classified newspaper ads are a great location to begin your search for a used car. Most small and local publications will have the classified section available online in addition to being in print, however many of these local publications charge for placing ads. This can help to eliminate some of the less serious sellers from testing the waters with an asking price well above the actual value of the car.

If you are going to shop from free online classified ads for a used car you will need to become very discerning about which vehicles you pursue to avoid wasting your time. Shopping from local paid classifieds that are listed online will be the best of both worlds as they car dealerships in houston are quick and easy to navigate while discouraging to sellers not motivated to sell their car.

The most popular location for used car ads is currently available online. Just ten years ago local newspapers and simply "driving around" were the best ways to shop for used cars. Now you can find hundreds of used car ads every day on online resources and classified websites like craigslist, kijiji and various buy / sell publications.

Any person who has ever sifted through the craigslist used car section knows just how much garbage is floating around on the internet. Since you can post an ad for completely free in seconds from the comfort of your own home there are many cars for sale which are well overpriced. Additionally to the convenience of these selling mediums, the fact that the ads are free encourages people to post cars for sale when they are really only testing the waters so to speak.

Free online classified car ads can be a waste of time. If you had to pay to post an ad to sell your car you would probably take more time to write the ad and determine the actual value of the car luxury cars houston before trying to sell it. For this reason, and more, online classifieds require additional scrutiny over more traditional methods of used car shopping.

The best used deals come from motivated sellers so try to locate used car classifieds which require payment in order to place an ad. This alone will weed out the vast majority of overpriced cars being sold half heartedly by people. This will allow you to dial in on the cars which are being sold by eager sellers who are willing to part with a little money if it helps facilitate the vehicle being gone. If you can find a seller that really needs to be rid of their old car, the likelihood of getting a good deal dramatically increases.

It is not uncommon to buy a car from someone who has already bought a new car. These used car sellers are especially susceptible to low-ball offers to take the car off their hands. By contacting sellers who appear to be in a hurry to sell their used car you can increase your Houston SEO Expert chances of finding someone who will take a low offer.

When you call a seller you are evaluating them not just the car. In addition to the ad itself, you can learn a great deal about a used car by speaking with the person selling the car. It takes absolutely no technical skill to be able to evaluate the motivations of a person selling a used car, however this is one of the most important things that you can do increase the likelihood of finding a good deal on a used car while mitigating the risk of buying a lemon. Washington is wrapped in nature's beauty. Diverse terrains make it even more stunning. From the rugged-pure beaches, high-rise mountains, desert lands, green forests to active volcanoes, the state has everything. Well, to explore the Evergreen State, you need to have a good transportation facility.

Even though public transportation is available in Washington, remote areas require a car. Washington's state routes are well- developed and offer great connectivity. And a car will obviously give you the much needed freedom. Imagine you don't have to leave early to catch the bus, because you have a car. It will take you faster - anywhere and everywhere you want.

Once you decide on buying a car, you will have to think about several things. This article gives you a comprehensive SEO Company Toronto explanation of the many things involved in buying a car.

Money Makes the World Go Round

It may sound cliché to you, but it's the fact. You need money to buy everything. Although you always have the option of loans, it is better if you have some cash with you.

Car is not an expense, it is an investment. Your car will be with you for more than 3 years. Hence, you must take a well- thought out decision.

Consider several expenses that you will have to incur over the years. It starts with the registration process, taxes, insurance and fuel. Also consider the maintenance of car. I would like to advise that you should go for a car only when you can afford it. There is no point in buying a car which becomes a trouble for you.

Also think of auto loans. There are several options for you in the State of Washington. You can visit lenders what career is right for me and dealers or also get online and search for an auto lending company. The best thing about using the web is that you don't have to get out of your house to avail an auto loan. So, get online and search for your perfect car loan.

Thinking of finance is useful as it will help you to narrow down your list.

Do You Believe In "Old Is Gold"?

A car's basic work is providing you comfort and quick travel. And, with technological advancement, cars run many more miles than before. So, a pre-owned car can easily work for you. If you don't consider new car as a status symbol, then a used car is just fine for you.

After you decide on the used car, it's time to move on to the next set of questions.

What's The Purpose of Your Car?

Every individual needs a car for different reasons. So, decide why you need it. If you have a large family, a minivan will be useful to you. If your job requires more of off-road driving, then SUV business analyst certification will suit you. If you live in the Olympic Peninsula, then a convertible won't be of much to you. As the region receives heavy rains, you will need something like SUV to tackle the muddy roads.

Also, make a list of all the car applications that you require in your car. So, if you need power steering, write it. Mention things like good mileage, safety devices, stereo, etc.

What Are The Car Buying Options In Washington?

The State provides you many options to choose your favorite car. You can go to a local dealer and search for the car. You can also go for the private party option by buying a car from your neighbor or your cousin. Web is the latest addition to the list. Just type - in the car you want and you will get a long list of options to choose from.

The most important thing to keep in mind is that you should and must avoid dealing with a curbstoner. The Washington State Department of Licensing is very active in spreading awareness regarding such dubious individuals. A curbstoner often poses as the owner of the car but actually is an unlicensed dealer. If you buy a car from him, then early childhood development transferring car title to your name becomes difficult.

Does Choosing A Car Ends The Process?

Well, the answer is no. First of all you must never choose a single car. Have at least 2-3 options with you. Consider these cars on the basis of following factors and choose your perfect car.

Take Precautions Against Lemon

The Washington State lemon law is for new cars, but even pre-owned cars can be covered under it. Confused?

Well, let's make it clear.

You cannot just call your car lemon and get your money back. It needs to be certified by an arbitrator. Now the arbitration request can be filed by second or subsequent owners if the vehicle was purchased within 2 years of the first delivery (delivery to the original retail consumer) and the car has no more than 24,000 miles on the odometer. The other condition is that a request must be received by the Lemon Law Administration within 30 months of the original retail delivery date.

This means that if your car is older than 2 years or has an odometer reading of more than 24,000 miles, you are not protected by the Washington State Lemon Law.

So, whenever you buy a used car make technical schools near me sure that the vehicle is working fine and it comes with manufacturer's warranty. If you don't do so, then settling claims will become a very torturous experience.

What's The Vehicle's Story?

Get the Vehicle Identification Number (VIN) of all the cars that you have chosen. Once you put the number in the database, you will get information about the car. It will give you detail of the car's history - problems, accidents, repairs. Also, call the previous owner and ask him about his experience with the car.

What's Your Car's Score (Miles)?

To buy a great car, it is important that you stay away from odometer fraud. Check the condition of pedals and the tires. The original tires generally last for 60,000 miles. So, if you see new used appliances houston tires and a lesser odometer reading, be alert.

Also, check for warranty cards and service reminders to get more idea about the car miles.

Clean Car Emission Requirements

After you choose your favorites, make sure they meet the clean air requirements. If your car is older than 2009, you won't require to be certified. Also, previously-registered vehicles with more than 7,500 miles won't require the certificate.

But all other cars which are newer than 2009 and have odometer readings lesser than 7,500 miles are required to fulfill the requirements.

To check whether the car is certified, ask the seller/dealer and also check the VECI label. The Vehicle Emissions A+ certification training Control Information (VECI) label in the engine compartment will help you know whether the vehicle is certified.

Clean and Clear- That's how The Title Should Be!

The car's title will establish you as the legal owner of the car. The title should be valid and shouldn't have any liens against it. If you want to check a car title, you can contact the Washington State Department of Licensing at (360) 902-3770.

Mechanic - Proof

Once you are sure about the car, get it checked from the expert.

Ask your trusted mechanic to do a thorough check. Ask him to tell you clearly about any faults and problems.

As the mechanic approves your choice, you will be assured of your choice.

Do remember the simple adage of our schooldays - Precaution is better than cure. Take proper precautions in plus size shapewear buying a car, it is hundred times better than sulking over a bad car decision.

#washer dryer clearance

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olwog · 6 years

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Today we learn that not all well planned days bear fruit and not all fruitful days are well planned.

“Fancy a walk on Friday”, the Pilgrim is asking as she’s on half term and wants to fill the days with meaningful activity. “Certainly”, says I showing her a walk I’d been working on around Rosedale. “That’ll do, we’ll recce it”, she responds and I’m happy ‘cos we have a plan.

Twenty minutes later and we’re doing the walk plus a visit to a close relative on the East Coast and an hour after that we’ve added a visit to friends also on the coast. It’s going to be a full day!

So we’re up at the crack of dawn(ish). Actually, it’s about ten and we’re running quite late to do the things we want so modifications are in order. I’ve already planned a bale out part of the walk that would reduce it by two thirds and it was, by now, a reality.

So…we’re up late…we receive a call from Pauline; “Could we come early?”, well, of course we can, nothing’s in stone, so the walk’s on hold whilst we go there first. Who needs a plan anyway?

The ‘run out’ is via Hole of Horcum a place etched in my memory as we spent many hours there with handmade hang gliders. The objective was to see how long we could remain aloft as we glided (if we were lucky) to the bottom. We’d then have to gather the machine up and carry it back to the top, it certainly kept us fit.

Modern hang gliders and paragliders can be bought for £1000 plus already working and so efficient they cover 250km (160 miles) or more on a good day. You need a license now but in those experimental days we’d build a kite out of aluminium alloy tubes, high-grade airframe wire and ripstop nylon.

You could buy one of course but they were more or less what you could build and building it was more fun and cheaper. The other advantage was that you knew the quality to which it had been lovingly built. There were times you’d be three or four hundred feet up and at that height with the wind singing in the wires your mind would occasionally wander and questions would conjure themselves out of thin air, “Did I tighten that bolt?”, and “Should I have tensioned the front wires a little more – or perhaps, less?”. Then there’d be a period of time when confidence wained followed by a tightening of grip on the ‘A’ frame and a minuscule shift of weight forward that would result in the kite descending gently to a height that would only cripple rather than kill.

Of course, most of our flights consisted of sitting on a board (the seat) that hung from the main frame allowing movement in any direction on a single plane and it was these movements and shifts of body weight that changed the centre of gravity of the machine and made it turn, fall and, if the circumstances were right, climb.

Take-off was as follows. Grab the ‘A’ frame and with the help of a couple of wingmen run down the ridge like a toboggan team then push gently on the ‘A’ frame and, at the same time sit on the plank that would be swinging around wildly behind your bum. If your coordination on this flight was good then you got to stay airborne; however, if you mistimed any element then you’d end up in a tangled heap halfway down the ridge!

In those days the inefficiency of the machine meant that getting up to more than fifty feet was a luxury and heights of two or three hundred feet were the result of taking off from a ridge that was two or three hundred feet up and very, very rarely, a particularly lively thermal! This take-off was rather more precarious and any error as you left the ridge resulted in a rather more dramatic descent followed by an abrupt stop; it was not for the faint-hearted.

So… with a visit to friends rescheduled and the visit to close relative a failure our plans are in tatters but still a good day, we’re on our way back now and taking the Blakey Ridge route to break the monotony but still with Rosedale as an objective when I spot ‘The Seated Man’. It’s just a spec in the distance but I’m confident I’m right so call out, “It’s the man!”

The Pilgrim is driving and after a quick double take on the surrounding area near the car, followed by a glance up the road she asks, “Man, what man?”

I can see her point, if the quiet contemplative atmosphere of the car that I’d been driving had been shattered by a non-sensical outburst by one of the occupants I think I’d have had a view on it!

“It’s the statue, the sculpture thingy”, says I in a fit of descriptive eloquence.

Neither the Pilgrim nor Emma have a clue what I’m talking about so I try again.

“It’s the Dalesman, The Man in the Seat looking down the dale. He’s supposed to look like Jeremy Corbin”, I try to explain.

None of this is making sense to the other two so I ask to stop at the side of the road and suggest we walk to it and get a mildly enthusiastic ascent.

It’s no more than 15 minutes from the road along a track that’s muddy but not too bad as to make walking difficult just slow. It’s bitterly cold though and we meet a couple coming the other way. We’re wearing buffs or scarves around our faces in an effort to mitigate the biting wind so identifying others similarly clad is impossible; how terrorists and bank robbers manage is a mystery. I’m chatting away to the Pilgrim and turn to mention the up-coming swamp when I discover she’s not there and realise that for the last 20 yards I’ve been talking to myself. She’s identified an old colleague although how is anyone’s guess. It’s not the first time we’ve met someone from way back on the moors but it still seems surreal.

A few reminiscences later and we’re on our way again and as we reach the top I hear appreciative exclamations from my chums, it really is impressive. If I’m honest I’m quite relieved that they find it as impressive having made such a jump into the unknown visiting something that I’d only read about and that they’d not even seen in an article.

As we approach the size becomes clear and a couple of ‘wows’ later we’re sitting on its feet with cameras working overtime.

Its proper title is ‘Seated Man’ and was commissioned by David Ross Foundation. David Ross was the founder of Carphonewarehouse and owns Castleton Rigg which is the land on which it stands. The artist is Sean Henry and it is commissioned to stand (or sit) on this ridge looking down Westerdale for five years. It has been reported that it is an exiled Jeremy Corbyn sent to the moors to reflect and I do think there is a remarkable resemblance. It’s seriously impressive standing 3 metres high and cast as a painted bronze.

We love it and I would urge you to walk the half mile off the road to see it ‘live’ and take your bairns, it’s safe and the walk will do them good.

We make our way towards Blakey and the Lion Inn turning left towards our initial objective of Rosedale Abbey. We pass Fat Betty which is a stone offering an element of confidence to travelers over many hundreds of years. There are references to these crosses from the 12th century.

Fat Betty is a stone about four feet high and has various legends that justify its existence i.e.

two nuns from Rosedale Abbey got lost in the fog and eventually died in the extreme cold on the moor and this commemorates their lives.

Another legend is that a farmer’s wife died and he found her body at this spot and he set up the cross in her memory

and the final one that I’ve found is that a nun called Margery or Margaret died at this point in her journey across the moor and the cross was set up in her name and was originally called Margery’s Cross.

We carry on towards and then down into Rosedale to Rosedale Abbey which is a tiny hamlet that’s grown up around the priory that was destroyed by our lovely King Henry VIII during the Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1536. It’s a lively little community now with St Mary & St Laurence Church, a school, a shop, some public lavatories and a pub, what’s not to like?

We park the car and make our way to the public footpath and walk north towards Northdale. The weather over the last few days has been seriously wet and cold so the track is muddy and there are mini-streams of water running off the fields. There are flocks of sheep looking at us as if they think we’re nuts as we yomp through the field of clingy and energy-sapping mud that sucks at our boots and result in sounds like a honeymooning couple on their first night. We need to pick and chose our route as some parts of the field are clearly boggy and there is no way to can gauge the depth; the sheep, in the meantime are scratching their heads at the stupidity of these humans tackling this terrain ‘for fun’.

The bonus, if there is one, is that the icy cold wind that stung our faces on the moor is not evident here. We can see that it hasn’t abated as the clouds are scooting across the sky at a fantastic rate.

The river is meandering along the valley floor and on the banks, there are trees in winter livery but with signs of spring in the form of tiny buds shining green as their content matures and swells against the tightening skin.

The track is getting wetter and we decide on a re-route just short of the wonderfully named Bell End Farm which will take us back along a farm track towards Haygate.

In fairness, the new track is no better than the boggy conditions at the bottom of the field but at least we’re heading back towards the car.

Just before Haygate Farm, we enter a field that is populated with some friendly ponies who make no secret of the fact that they’ve seen us. Within a few minutes, they’ve positioned themselves on the track so that we have to approach them and anyone with a large-animal phobia may well be intimidated. We’re not and talk to them as we push between them, there’s lots of snorting and head tossing but they seem to appreciate the attention as we stroke their velvet noses.

At the gate, we hear a shout from a lady near the cow-byre. I first wonder if our presence is not appreciated but it’s anything but. She’s asking if we’re OK and if the ponies are worrying us. I call back in the negative and thank her for her concern. I’ve mentioned before the friendliness of the natives and they’re evidence personified here at this farm.

As we pass through the farm the owner engages in a lively conversation and tells us about the weather since Christmas and it’s easy to understand the reason for the bogs and mud.

We move on through the yard and exit onto the small backroad that takes us back to Rosedale Abbey and the car.

We got to all the places we intended but not how we intended and it meant we got to see the ‘Seated Man’ as an added bonus.

Thanks, Cecilia and Emma, a great day with wonderful company…G..x

Rosedale and the Seated Man Today we learn that not all well planned days bear fruit and not all fruitful days are well planned.

#Fat Betty #Moors #North Yorkshire Moors #Photographs #Photos #Pictures #Ralph&039;s Cross #Rosedale Abbey #The Seated Man #Yorkshire

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mystlnewsonline · 6 years

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New Post has been published on https://www.stl.news/big-towers-to-rise-near-historic-jamestown-90m-payouts/70816/

Big towers to rise near historic Jamestown: $90M in payouts

NORFOLK, Va/January 20, 2018(AP)(STL.News)— A big change is looming on the horizon near Jamestown Island, site of Britain’s first permanent settlement in North America: 17 transmission towers — four nearly as tall as the Statue of Liberty — are set to rise to help meet Virginia’s growing energy appetite.

But not everyone is electrified by the prospect, never mind the $90 million the utility is spreading around to blunt the impact on this tourist region steeped in early American history.

The project calls for stringing power lines across the muddy James River, an undertaking the utility says is vital to maintaining the region’s power supply as aging coal-fired plants are mothballed. Richmond-based Dominion Energy already has begun the federally required payouts. And the so-called mitigation funding is providing rare windfalls to local groups in an era of dwindling public dollars for preservation efforts.

Groups receiving the money have expressed gratitude, though some remain opposed to the towers.

“It was not our intent to benefit. We would rather not have the project,” said Robert Gray, chief of the Pamunkey Indian Tribe, which received $4.5 million in payments. “Once those towers go up, the cultural landscape is ruined.”

The project could take nearly two years to complete. Work has already begun on foundations for the towers.

Eventually, the power lines are to cross a 4-mile (6.4 kilometers) stretch of the broad James River within view of the eastern tip of Jamestown Island, although not its historic fort. To accommodate river barge traffic, four of the towers are to rise as high as 295 feet (90 meters) — just shy of lady Liberty’s 305-foot (93 meter) height from the pedestal’s ground level to the torch.

More than 400 years ago, Britain established Jamestown, aided by Capt. John Smith, a colorful adventurer and explorer who is part of the tourist draw here.

Because power lines would cut through areas with historical significance, the federal government required the mitigation funding by Dominion, which is flowing through an array of state agencies and nonprofit foundations.

The Pamunkey Tribe, for instance, will use its money to expand its fish hatchery and other projects. Another tribe, the Chickahominy, will acquire 105 acres (42 hectares) along the river. Money will also bolster shorelines, improve water quality and help to preserve five battlefield sites associated with the American Revolution and the Civil War.

Dominion says the towers are crucial to providing reliable service to 600,000 people living between the York and James rivers, including the city of Newport News, as well as a Busch Gardens theme park and Joint Base Langley-Eustis — a combined U.S. Air Force and Army installation. The lines will carry electricity from a nuclear power station across the river and other sources, compensating for the coal-powered plants shutting down because of new clean-air regulations.

Dominion spokeswoman Bonita Billingsley Harris said the project’s location poses the least impact of the options considered.

Critics, meanwhile, are still calling for Dominion to run the transmission lines underwater or elsewhere. But Dominion said the underwater proposal would balloon costs from $180 million to at least $500 million, with ratepayers absorbing the expense. Harris also said underground lines would be inadequate for meeting future power needs.

Conservationists are fighting the project in court, saying it should be redesigned or relocated.

“You can’t solve the problem with money,” said Sharee Williamson, an attorney for one opponent, the National Trust for Historic Preservation. “This is one of the most significant historical resources in the United States. It tells the story of some of the earliest beginnings of our nation.”

Williamson said the power lines will extend across the water on a portion of the river that has lacked crossings of any kind for miles, a rare phenomenon on the East Coast. But Dominion contends the James already flows through a well-developed region and has steady maritime traffic.

In October, a federal judge rejected a request by conservation groups to immediately halt construction. But the judge said the merits of the case will be considered as it moves forward.

Besides Jamestown, founded in 1607, the area includes the Carter’s Grove plantation, a National Historic Landmark built beside the James River in the 1750s. There’s also the Colonial Parkway, a scenic route linking Yorktown, Williamsburg and Jamestown.

The power lines would be visible from Carter’s Grove, some lookouts along the parkway and the eastern tip of Jamestown Island.

Among groups benefiting from Dominion’s payout is Belmead on the James Inc., which hopes to preserve more than 2,000 acres further upriver. The group is getting $750,000.

Belmead, a former plantation site, also housed schools for black and native American students between 1895 and 1972.

“I think irony is a good way to frame it,” Belmead vice president Joe Elton said of benefiting from the power lines. “But it’s the way of the world. If there’s an opportunity for us to do something good for conservation out of the funding that’s available, we’re certainly going to take advantage of it.”

By Associated Press, published on STL.NEWS by St. Louis Media, LLC (TM)

#$90M #Big towers #Dominion #historic Jamestown #payouts

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rebeccahpedersen · 6 years

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“Offers, If Any.” What Does That Mean?

TorontoRealtyBlog

Are you familiar with this phrase on MLS listings?

“Offers, If Any.”

Just as the “48 Hours Irrevocable” phrase was big in the 2017 Fall market, I think the old “Offers, If Any” is going to be huge this spring.

Let’s take a look at what it means, what it’s meant in the past, and how much confusion it can cause…

There are two things that today’s blog will not be:

1) About mortgages 2) Over 3,000 words

It’s funny – when I first started this blog back in 2007, the people helping me with it told me, “Blogs should be about 200-300 words,” and also added, “It’s something you should really try to update at least once per week.”

My first blog post ever was 449 words, including the intro.

The body of the post itself was five paragraphs.

Call me crazy, but that’s not enough to explore ANY topic on the planet.

And while I know that brevity isn’t my strong suit, I also find many articles out there today to be lacking.

Even in the major newspapers, I find myself scrolling down, and thinking, “That’s it?” The articles never really seem to do the headlines justice.

In any event, the year-end 2017 blog posts, 2018 predictions, and hot topics regarding mortgage and debt seemed to really get my fingers flaming, but from now on, we’re back to the norm.

The 2018 market hasn’t really “started” yet, per se.

It’s taking time to develop; a lot more than it did last year!

To have a market, you need interactions between buyers and sellers, and you need sales.

So far, we have minimal new listings. And I said “new,” FYI. Yes, there are a slew of active listings, but of the 1,714 freehold properties listed for sale, only 325 of them, or 19%, were listed in 2018.

A handful of properties have sold, and I’ve seen the first “bidding war” erupt with 16 offers on a west-end condo last week, but there still aren’t nearly enough sales to come to any conclusions about how the market is starting.

In 2017, it was somewhere around the third week of January when I turned to a colleague and said, “Something is really strange with this market.” All the sub-$1M freeholds were selling with bully offers, and the market had this unreal upward momentum.

In 2018 thus far, I can’t even give you an opinion on where we are in this market, and I think I’ll need a full month of data, and experience, to (TK)

So that brings me to this concept of “Offers, If Any.”

Let me show you what I mean:

It’s simple enough, right?

It’s like saying, “If we have any offers, we’ll review them at this time, at this place, and we ask that if you register an offer, you do so by 5pm.”

Unless I were making this into its own blog post, you’d simply read the above, and wouldn’t think anything of it.

But the presence of those two words, “if any” after the word “offers,” can be a game-changer in this market. It’s strategic in nature, and it can make everything abundantly clear, or completely muddy the waters.

The phrase “Offers, If Any” has been on MLS listings for years, but before this year, it was didn’t really mean what it suggested.

The idea that there would not be offers, ie. the presence of “if any,” was so far-fetched in previous years, that the presence of “if any” was basically the listing agent rubbing it in your face.

Take a $900,000 property, that’s listed at $699,900 in February of 2017, which ultimately gets 28 offers and sells for $988,500.

“Offers, If Any,” the MLS listing reads.

And you’re thinking, “Oh, yeah, sure! If any, right? As though you won’t get offers?”

You used to see that on the listing, and you’d think the agent was being condescending.

This year, however, the words “if any” have meaning.

We’re only two weeks into the year, but I don’t think we’re going to see the same spring market we saw in 2017, or anywhere close to it.

As a result, the “under-listing” strategy (if you can call it a strategy), will be far from automatic.

The “real estate kiss of death,” as I have always referred to it, is listing your property for $999,000 with a hold-back on offers, not selling, and then re-listing the next day at $1,200,000.

I have done that exactly once in my fourteen years.

I wrote several blogs about “listing and re-listing” in the spring of 2017. You can read one from May HERE.

But the 2017 listing-and-re-listing was because the market changed overnight in April, and through May, sellers had yet to adjust – both to the new listing strategies, as well as the decrease in price.

In 2018, listing and re-listing is going to be a killer.

And thus it’s up to the seller, and the listing agent, to assess risk tolerance, and enact a strategy.

Let’s say you have a house that is worth $900,000.

There are three listing strategies that you can enact in 2018, as I see it:

1) List at $899,900, offers any time.

2) List at $899,900, hold back offers.

3) List at $799,900, hold back offers.

And each of those listing strategies could have its own subset of strategies.

Take #1 for example:

1a) List at $899,900, offers any time, with 24 hour irrevocable (or 48 hours, if you want). We call this the “soft holdback,” and it was prevalent in the Fall of 2017.

1b) List at $899,900, offers really, truly, any time.

1c) List at $919,900, thus over-pricing as the house is “worth” $900,000, but you want to know for certain that you’re not leaving money on the table.

As far as #3 goes, it’s risky!

If you don’t get the response you need in order to push the $799,900 list price up over the $900,000 value of the home, then you have no choice but to re-list higher, and incur the “real estate kiss of death.”

If the market is truly balanced this spring, then a lot of buyers will feel as though they don’t need to “play the games,” and the seller who under-lists, terminates, and then re-lists, risks offending the buyer pool.

To get that $900,000 offer, based on a $799,900 list price, you might have only needed two offers in some years, or at the very least, three. But what will it take in the spring of 2018? Four offers? Five? Time will tell.

As far as #2 goes, this is where the 2018 market will be interesting.

I know this sounds crazy (I’m being facetious…) but maybe, just maybe, listing at fair market value will become a “thing” in 2018.

It’s almost a chicken-and-egg situation.

What are you deciding on first when listing: whether or not to hold back offers, or the price?

Do you start with, “We’re going to hold back offers, now do we list at $899,900, or $799,900?”

Or do you start with, “We’re going to list at $899,900, no do we hold back offers?”

As I said, this is where the 2018 market will be interesting.

And it’s where those words “If Any” come into play.

The agent and seller who want to list at fair market value, but still want to try holding-back offers “just in case,” will write on the listing, “Offers, If Any.”

They want to signal to the market that they’re not under-priced for competition, and they don’t want to scare buyers away.

They want to ensure that buyers know this isn’t the spring of 2017, and houses won’t sell for 150% of the list price – especially this one!

So the “If Any” is really saying what it means. “We’re priced at $899,900, which we think is reasonable. And if we get any offers, we’ll review them at this date.”

How else can you convey that to the buyer pool?

I mentioned something above about “muddy waters,” and if you’re with me on this blog so far, you already know where this is going.

The listing for that $900,000 house, with a $799,000 list price, might say, “Offers Reviewed Monday January 15th at 7:30pm.”

But it might also read “Offers, If Any, Reviewed Monday January 15th at 7:30pm.”

So what I’m getting at is, there’s nothing to stop a listing agent from trying to trick the buyer pool, once they think they’ve got it all figured out, into thinking a property is fairly-priced, when it’s not.

What else is new?

As it always has been, it’s up to the buyer to do their homework, use comparable sales, and determine what they think fair market value is.

It’s too bad, because right when you think there’s some clarity in the market, you realize, there isn’t.

Personally, I think we’re going to see a lot more properties this spring listed at fair market value, rather than being stupidly under-listed like they were last year. I just don’t think sellers will have the risk tolerance, and if they’re smart, they’ll think about this before listing, rather than acting surprised – and hard-done-by, when the strategy fails.

I think listing at fair market value is the way to go, or even slightly above fair market value, in lieu of holding-back offers.

It’s a decent strategy, when you think about it.

Real estate has no fixed value, and it’s not like a share of stock, where millions of the identical item trade every day, with values traced to the very penny.

So if you think you’ve got a $900,000 house, maybe you price at $924,900, and with “Offers Any Time,” the first few buyers that walk through the house and love it, decide to act right away, and come in at or near the list price, rather than risk losing out.

I would absolutely choose that strategy over listing at $699,900, and hoping I get 10-12 offers and $200,000+ over the list price.

So having said all this, what do you think: is it going to be tougher this spring to be a buyer, or a seller?

As many readers have pointed out, last spring, you could list a beat-up RV for sale and you’d get multiple offers.

So will it be harder for sellers to analyze, implement, and follow the right listing strategy? Or will it be harder for buyers to cut through the pricing games and listing inconsistencies, which are designed to be easier than in 2017, but might end up being harder?

It’s too early to tell, but we’re getting there, every-so-slowly…

The post “Offers, If Any.” What Does That Mean? appeared first on Toronto Real Estate Property Sales & Investments | Toronto Realty Blog by David Fleming.

Originated from http://ift.tt/2mzki4R

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