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thefairyletters · 3 years

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Could you answer this question? I went through a bunch of Sakura fics, many recommended by yourself (many good ones, thanks for your excellent taste!) but I also explored on my own, which is how this question spurred. I was wondering why so many ppl want Sakura to have wood release? &, because it's been a while so my memory's foggy, wasnt wood release sort of a bloodline thing? They had to infuse Hashirama's cells w/ Yamato for him to use it. It seems a little...I guess radical to give it to her? I LOVE Sakura, which is exactly why it kind of throws me off. I think she's already strong as is, & I think being able to utilize genjutsu & slug sage mode are logical expansions of her abilities, so wood release seems very...Idk how to put it but it seems like erasing Sakura. I'm discovering that I truly really dont think I like BAMF Sakura fics a lot bc it just doesnt read AS Sakura. It's like the author's are ashamed of her. Also I dislike when they use Strong!Sakura as a tag on ao3 bc she IS strong that HASNT changed & there's a canonical version of BAMF!Sakura in everything before the Pein arc. Everything after the Pein arc turned the entire series in a bad fanfiction for everyone in itself.

Thank you, I'm happy to know you enjoyed my recs!

That's a good question.

This is what I think makes Sakura badass ➡ here

I love Sakura the way she is, as well. Her development, however, is lacking not in terms of her personality but her skillset. She has impressive chakra control, monstrous strength and is one of the two frontline medics and one of the best healers in the world. She has impressive feats under her belt as well, two of the most remarkable include her byakugo seal and her fight with Sasori alongside Chiyo. But it pales in comparison to her teammates, including Sai and Kakashi. I don't mind that too, because her journey is different than others, excluding Lee and possibly Tenten. She isn't seen much involved in fights, her attacks are repetitive in the show, she isn't bestowed many techniques under her belt and her best moments are in games and novels. It is not her character's fault but Kishimoto who just doesn't use her strength and intelligence which he (and other characters) have mentioned she has.

She is genjutsu type – but has she ever performed one, or even gotten out of one easily? Whats the use of such information if Kishimoto doesn't use it?

She has near perfect chakra control – she should be easily able to perform many techniques and practice different elements, especially water, but earth style and cloning is what we mostly ever see her use.

She has good foundation in Taijutsu – and that should increase her stamina and therefore her chakra coils, and that in turn will ensure she is able to use many techniques.

Her medical and research skills are only next to Tsunade – and we wish to see her revolutionize the medical field which she has but in Borutoverse. That is time skip. That doesn't really relive you much.

She has resistance to mind jutsus, thanks to her inner personality – and theoretically she should be able to even evade strong genjutsus like she did Ino's clan technique (something never been done before) but Kishimoto only used that incredible ability once. ONCE.

She has massive chakra storage and exceptional chakra control and sensitivity – she should be able to master Senjutsu, a field which is all about chakra. Anything that has to do with chakra control is Sakura's playground.

She is more or less an unofficial poison expert – but we didn't see her playing with poison expertly (a poison that even Suna's poison experts failed to break) after Gaara's retrieval arc.

She is the smart and responsible one of team 7 – but Kishi often makes her look both stupid and selfish. We don't see her use her intelligence much. I hate that more than her lacking in the expansion of the skills.

She trained under a political leader – that itself makes her and Shizune great administrators and governors. So, out of everyone, Sakura is the one of the best Hokage material. Hokage is said to be the strongest fighter of the village but that requirement failed us when Tsunade became the fifth Hokage.

She has yin seal – the strongest seals one can make, in their own body no less. It also shows her expert control of her chakra. She can summon one of the big 3 summons. Sealing is more or less code that requires high intelligence and great chakra control that can be fused into the ink. As far as I can tell, she is one of the best candidates to learn Fuinjutsu.

With all these possibilities of her growth – because it is not something we make up but something Kishi has implied she has but never explored – how can one not exploit it? It doesn't mean one doesn't love Sakura for who she is but that its because they love her that they want to give her what she has the right to. She doesn't have to be expert at something to be powerful, just her putting her skills to best use is admirable as it is. I love Sakura for who she is and who she could be.

Now, onto the question as to why people seem to favour giving Sakura wood release, this are the following reasons that I think could be it:

Does it have to be bloodline limit?

Kishimoto gave Hashirama a unique bloodline limit that apparently cannot be inherited by any other Senju. That defeats the purpose of bloodline limit. What makes Senju clan so different? Without Hashirama in the picture, you cannot distinctly identify a Senju clan member aside from their strong chakras. Tobirama is identified for his water techniques. Tsunade has perfect control of her chakra that allowed her to exhibit monstrous strength and incredible healing abilities. How come wood release is a bloodline limit but is not passed down the line?

It is complicated because Tsunade is also renowned for her perfect chakra control just like Hashirama. So, some stories make Sakura a secret Senju clan member because of her uncanny resemblance to Tsunade and Senju clan in general. Pink hair can be a diluted version of Red (Mito) and her chakra control originating directly from Hashirama's lineage.

I personally don't like this because I love Sakura being a civilian child.

It's not a bloodline limit:

So, assuming wood release is not a bloodlimit but a very hard technique requiring precise chakra control and mastery of dual elements Earth and Water, then it is possible for Sakura to practice same technique because of her prodigious chakra control. By that logic, we can also assume that Tenzo inherited Hashirama's unique chakra control to use wood release. Because Orochimaru could have used Tsunade's DNA too if it was only about clan blood. So that rules out bloodline limit.

I love the idea of Sakura practising wood release because it is possible for her to do so. So if an author gives Sakura wood release that she hones with practice and control (ref. fanfic: Labyrinthine) instead of having been gifted with it, I'm digging it.

Nature chooses the wood user:

Naruto universe has many references to spiritual entities such as gods/goddesses, reincarnation and celestial bodies. It is conceivable to make nature an ethereal entity that has its own will. Sakura looks like the embodiment of spring with her petal hair and green eyes, and Hashirama can be compared to wood with his warm personality and appearance, these attributes can make them look distinctly attractive to nature. No other characters remind me strongly of nature than these two so I suppose they can be uniquely selected to be blessed this ability. Tenzo's abilities is the result of human experiment by Orochimaru who always cheats on nature so he is an exception.

I only like this because I like the idea of Sakura being Nature's child.

Most stories that I love don't give her a special edge and only give her more techniques under her arsenal. It is very rarely that I love an OCC Sakura who has a bloodline, a clan or godlike abilities.

After Pein's arc, Naruto turned into a joke. Everyone in team 7 (barring Sakura, Sai and Yamato) and long list of antagonists seemed to get power ups left and right. Sakura got hers in the last moment as a last ditch effort to reunite team 7 as one, a moment that felt so hasty that I couldn't take the show seriously at all. I was so disappointed with the whole war arc. I cringe just thinking about it. I sometimes think if it would have been better for everyone to just die with happily ever after in their mind. That would be tragic but a fitting end because Madara became too OP and Kaguya ridiculously so.

The reason people add 'Strong', 'BAMF', 'Smart' prefixes before Sakura is the reason why people add extra qualities to Sakura's character. They are not satisfied with how Sakura handles herself in fights and many base her fights with the one she had with Sasori. After that, did you see her actively participating in any major fight, barring her attempts to make a score on sidelines? Usually, these fanfictions also justify why she is Tsunade 2.0, something the Naruto failed to show.

By the way, many stories have BAMF tag for Shikamaru, Naruto and Sasuke as well. Are they not already strong af? They don't use Strong tag for them though, and that's because their fighting prowess is already seen. Shikamaru is not much of a fighter as much as he is a strategist and a leader. He is a cool and sly character. Naruto and Sasuke have flashy moves with flashy names under their belt with absurd power levels that puts them in god tier. Sakura has none of that – no signature move that is uniquely her, no clan to back her, no move with a name (barring game moves) – and she is seen useless because she is a healer which is a non-offensive, background job even if it is the most crucial and taxing job. It's significance is even more reduced when people point out how her work is futile because they are again sent to the fight/missions once they are up to go. Most fans only care for visual aesthetics, regardless of how rare and in-demand medics are because of the lack of qualified people who can muster and use medical chakra properly.

Sakura is more than just a healer but in canon she is more or less reduced to that. To make things worse for her, both Ino and Hinata are also shown to have healing techniques. They both also have clan techniques (vastly unknown) with them which makes them appear more 'useful'. Sakura is literally in the shadow of her mentor and her friends.

In Boruto, she is said to be the most powerful Kunoichi of her generation and quite possibly the greatest medic in the world but in Shippuden it is severely undermined. This is also why Boruto fans love Sakura but a bunch of Shippuden fans don't.

I mostly don't judge BAMF/Strong Sakura fanfictions, but I mostly avoid Anbu Sakura fanfictions if I can because I personally don't belive Sakura to be an Anbu material.

I want to add more, but I think I got my point across. Thank you for reading this far. I hope I answered your question adequately.

#sakura #sakura haruno #answered #at least thats what I think #let me know what you feel about this #im so happy to know you loved my recs #naruto #haruno sakura #bamf sakura #she is always bamf #ao3 tags #fanfictions #opinion post

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mentally-in-northern-italy · 4 years

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Raising the Stakes — Oliver Wood x reader

***not my GIF***

Summary: you are the newly appointed Slytherin captain, ambitious to win at least one match after your two previous losses. But when the stakes are raised, you seem to be playing for more than just to clear your name as a “failed” captain.

Word Count: ~3.4K

A/N: OH MY GOSH! I’m so sorry, I know I “announced” that I would be writing my first fic a while ago, but to be honest, I was so overwhelmed with everything else that I had to keep putting it off. Anyway, this fic is super duper long, because I totally got carried away while writing, I’m so sorry! It’s a lengthy one, but if you give this a read, I’d be so grateful! Feedback is more than welcome, as I’ve never really done this before. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!! :)

____________________________________________________________________

The day before a Quidditch game was always tough for you. And, rightfully so, seeing as the pressure that was put on you every single time was incredibly overwhelming. See, this year was not a good year for Slytherins when it came to Quidditch. When Marcus Flint was temporarily suspended from his position as Quidditch Captain due to very distasteful, (what many would refer to as... foul) play, they needed someone who could fill his shoes, and fast.

You just had to be the one who got the short end of the stick.

Being Quidditch Captain came with many benefits, of course -- anyone could see that. You were able to order around everyone on the team, especially the people who you didn’t get along with too well, decide the times for practices to fit your schedule best and if the match resulted in a victory, get all the credit for the marvellous match.

Except every seemingly perfect thing has its flaws, after all. Flint’s shoes as Captain were hard to fill. Many people at Hogwarts may tell you that he is the most disgusting, obnoxious, and arrogant person around… and they wouldn’t be wrong. But what many people cleverly omit is that he is a brilliant Quidditch player -- when he doesn’t resort to cheating. The Slytherin Quidditch team, under his strong guidance, was practically unbeatable. They were doing better than they’ve done in years. Needless to say, when they won match after match, the team’s thrilling victories were all attributed to the fact that they had someone as masterful and godly as Flint as their Captain.

You, however, had a different approach as Captain. While you weren’t an angel, you certainly weren’t Flint. Your approach to leadership may be considered too laid-back for some, but you never wanted to be as overbearing as Flint.

Unfortunately, this approach wasn’t exactly successful. The Slytherin team had now broken their winning streak, and lost two games ever since you were appointed Captain. Naturally, they blamed these losses on your failed leadership.

The first game that was played with you appointed as the new Slytherin Captain was against Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff had a strong team, their plays were tactful and their brilliant seeker, Cedric, almost always managed to pull through and catch the snitch. However, and one can blame it on the fact that this was because you were simply a Slytherin, you and the rest of your team had severely underestimated the sunshine-coloured team. Call it overconfidence or just sheer misfortune, you and your team had not trained nearly hard enough and the match was over extremely quickly, and all the plays that you had devised, hunched over in the common room, all went to waste.

This was a devastating loss for Slytherin, as it had broken their streak. People whispered about you whenever you walked by them in the halls, spreading gossip and judgement because of your failed leadership.

But true to the verdant-coloured house’s core values, they stayed loyal to you. Many excused your failure by simply taking into account the fact that it was your first match as Captain, after all. The second one will be better… right?

Wrong.

For your second match, you took the opposite approach. You trained hard, and made sure that everyone else trained hard as well.

Oliver, the Gryffindor team’s beloved Captain, took notice of how often the Quidditch team was booked under your name. And he would never give up on an opportunity to tease you.

Oliver and yourself, had a complicated relationship. You were never exactly friends… no, that was definitely not the right word. You two had a few classes together, but barely ever talked off the Quidditch pitch. You thought he was incredibly infuriating with his smug smile plastered on his face 24/7 and his thick Scottish accent. But even you, couldn’t deny that he was attractive. He thought you were… well, this bit was a bit more complicated.

He didn’t like you, but he couldn’t possibly hate you. He had always thought you were incredibly pretty and the way you always raised your hand in class was adorable. He loved how out-spoken you were… that is, until you picked up a Quidditch broom.

You could still remember your first match like it was yesterday. You had done a spectacular job as a chaser, scoring not five but six goals against Oliver. And when the Slytherin seeker finally caught the snitch, your team had consequently won that match. You were ecstatic, meanwhile Oliver had decided that it was his new-found goal to beat you. After the match, he had come up to you and told you that you had played horribly. Taken aback a bit, you gave him no response, but only smiled at him coolly. Your smile perfectly disguised your new-found resentment of the Gryffindor, who instead of congratulating you, had just insulted you.

“Training hard, I see,” he said as he jogged over now, to you one evening after a particularly lengthy training session. You were bent over, trying to properly place all the balls in their rightful places in the box.

You looked up to glance at him before turning your head back downwards, paying no attention to him.

“You know, Ravenclaws aren’t particularly skilled when it comes to Quidditch,” he said casually as he took in how attractive you still looked, even when you were drenched in sweat.

“Thank you for your input, Wood,” you said sarcastically, not even bothering to look up.

“No problem,” he smiled at you smugly as you began to stand up, “I think you can beat them. Good luck.”

“Why would you want me to win?” You questioned with narrowed eyes. This was not like Oliver.

“Because no matter what happens in the match tomorrow,” he drawled as he leaned in slightly, “Gryffindor will still beat you.”

There it was.

You groaned and shoved him lightly and started to walk off. You could hear him chuckling under his breath as he watched your receding figure.

But when it came down to it, in the middle of the match, most of your team had begun to realize that there was no way they were going to come out of this victorious if they followed your plays. Malfoy, ever so resourceful, pulled the rest of the team aside and advised them to completely abandon the plays that you once again had worked hard for and try offensive.

This lack of unity within your team inevitably led to another loss.

And your house was not happy.

___________________

So, here you were, eating your breakfast in the Great Hall with extremely shaky hands. You could not afford to lose the match tomorrow. There was no way you could let that happen. That would surely end your Quidditch career before it even started, and the whispering in the halls would not come to a stop. You tried to run through the Quidditch plays once again in your head, to ensure you had them down for the practice tonight when Malfoy swaggered in and took a seat beside you.

“We better not lose again, [Y/L/N],” he grunted as he reached over to grab the jam, “you’ve failed us enough.”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” you snapped at him after rolling your eyes so far back into your head that it hurt a little, “maybe if you played well and followed my plays that I spend HOURS creating, we would do better.”

“Whatever,” he muttered under his breath as he took a bite, “Flint was better.”

With a groan you decided that you had had enough food to eat. You felt as though if you ate anymore, you would surely have to rush to the girls’ lavatory and throw up. You stood up and started to head towards the exit of the Great Hall, not having any particular idea what exactly it was that you were heading towards.

All you knew is that you had to win.

____________________

“[Y/L/N],” called two familiar voices from somewhere behind you.

You had been walking, on your way to the common room, to try to have a final look at the Quidditch plays when you heard the seemingly identical voices.

You turned around to see the Weasley twins, with Oliver, standing in the hallway, discussing something hurriedly. Oliver’s back had been turned to you, but it wasn’t hard to recognize his very distinct broad shoulders that Quidditch had blessed him with.

Oliver turned around and met your gaze, before looking back at the twins confusedly.

“Um, yes?” you said, reluctantly as you walked closer to them.

The twins had a toothy grin stuck on their face which, you decided, was not a good sign. This meant that they were up to something. Oliver continued to look between the two twins and, occasionally you, with a dumb-founded look.

“Ready for the match tomorrow?” one of the red-headed twins asked in a teasing matter.

“Yes, actually, I am,” you said rather defensively. You crossed your arms to try to look more intimidating but this clearly failed as the other twin started to snicker.

“You know, Oli here thinks so too,” the other one started to say as he clapped Oliver’s shoulder, “he’s a little scared about tomorrow. Doesn’t think we can beat you.”

You raised your eyebrows at this. Well, this was a new development. You looked at Oliver for confirmation.

“What? N--” he exclaimed at the twins before the twin to his right shushed him and cut him off.

“Georgie and I think it would be rather fun to raise the stakes, don’t you think?” Fred said quickly before Oliver could interrupt him again, “Motivate him a little, perhaps?”

Oliver had gone back to looking lost.

You didn’t say anything to this but George must have picked up some sort interest in your gaze.

“Tell you what, [Y/N], you win tomorrow and Oli boy here,” he says as he claps Oliver’s shoulders again, making him slightly wince in pain, “owes you a favour.”

Oliver opens his mouth to say something but is once again, cut off.

“Anything you want.” Fred said.

“Whenever you want.” George finished.

You opened your mouth to reply but you were unable to find the right words. Of course, you wanted this. You could make Oliver give over all his booked quidditch pitch hours, you could make him carry your books, do your homework---

“Hello?” George said as he jokingly waved a hand in front of your face.

“Uh, yes! I mean, yes. Yes, that sounds good, I guess.” You said as you tuned back into the conversation.

“I--” Oliver started.

“But what if you win?” you ask suddenly as the realization dawns on you. You were not about to add onto your humiliation of losing three consecutive Quidditch matches by becoming Oliver’s personal servant as well.

“Glad you asked, dearest [Y/N],” Fred smirked as if this is exactly what he was waiting for.

“If we win, you and Wood go on a date,” George said with a big smile, “that’s it.”

“A pretty great deal if you ask me,” Fred added in quickly.

Oliver’s expression contorted into absolute shock as his cheeks started to redden the faintest shade of pink. He opened his mouth to yell at the twins but was unable to. Something compelled him to shut up and turn to you, desperate to see what you thought of this. A small part of him hoped that you would agree.

This clever plea presented by the twins had taken you back by surprise, to say the least. On a date? With Oliver? Didn’t he hate you, and you him? You almost wanted to laugh at what a ridiculous idea this was, and you almost did, before you saw that Oliver was watching you with his eyebrows furrowed. Did he want this? Did he not? It seemed pretty harmless, right? Plus, if you declined, wouldn’t that show that you were nervous and unsure about the match?

“Fine. You have a deal.” you said assertively and reached out your hand to shake Oliver’s.

Now, Oliver wasn’t a bright student, but he wasn’t dull either. But at this moment, his brain had completely stopped working as he stared at you, taking in your eyes that twinkled and your perfect lips that looked so soft---

His thoughts were rudely interrupted by Fred’s aggressive approach to bringing his attention back to this conversation; he shoved Oliver, almost causing him to fall over.

“Wha--? Oh, yes. Yes. Date,” he stammered, trying to find the right words, “I mean--, no, not a date. Dea--Deal. Yes.”

He extended out his incredibly sweaty hand to take your noticeably smaller hand in his and gave a firm shake. He smiled at you and you returned it hesitantly before you turned back around to walk away.

What a weird night this has been.

______________________

The match had started nearly ten minutes ago and Oliver had not taken his eyes off you once. It did work in his favour a bit, as you were a chaser, so it didn’t look out of the ordinary at all. But Fred and George caught on quickly and exchanged knowing looks, smirking slightly.

The match, dare you say it, was going extremely well. The other chasers had already scored multiple goals and this offensive-style play was proving to be very effective.

But your head was not in the game. Not at all.

The way that Oliver was flying on his broom, strategically blocking goals and giving a victorious smile each time to the crowd was proving to be particularly distracting. And it may just be your brain playing tricks, but you could’ve sworn you saw him watching you a few times, too.

It was somewhat of a revelation last night. This morning, you saw Oliver in a completely different light. Your mind even tried to convince you that maybe it wouldn’t be that bad if your team lost again. You quickly mentally slapped yourself to get rid of this thought. You had to win.

______________

The match went on for a while after, and it came incredibly close to being a victory for Gryffindor.

But it wasn’t.

Many people blamed it on Oliver’s lazy and distracted gameplay, and many on your brilliant one.

You exclaimed loudly and smiled broadly as Malfoy caught the snitch, and the stands erupted into applause and cheer.

You hopped off your broom and went to congratulate Malfoy and your other teammates, all the while the stands clapped and screamed. It sounded like music to your ears. You were so incredibly happy that your hard work had paid off and you had broken the losing streak.

Your smile faltered, however, as you saw how defeated Oliver looked. This was a major bruise to his ego. He was not used to losing. But you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he looked that disappointed because he would be unable to go on that date. If you were being honest, part of you was also disappointed for the same reason.

_________________

You were sat in the library, trying to focus on your Charms homework but that was proving to be quite… impossible.

Oliver was sat two tables ahead of you, and while his back was turned, you still felt yourself feeling a little flustered.

You had been gazing shyly at the back of Oliver’s head when a sudden tap to your shoulder scared you half to death.

“Hellooo [Y/L/N],” said the slightly taller twin, which you now were able to tell was Fred.

“For Merlin’s sake,” you exclaimed with hand to your chest, “you can’t scare me like that, Fred!” You whirled around to see Fred standing behind you with his infectious smile on his face and George, standing beside him in an identical manner.

“Sorry.”

“What do you want?” You questioned dryly, picking your quill back up again, pretending to get invested in work.

“Congratulations on your win, [Y/L/N],” George said pleasantly as he patted your shoulder, “you played well. It's a shame though, isn’t it, Freddie?”

“Yes, it really is, Georgie.” Fred said, crossing his arms, faking sadness.

You turned around to face them, your eyebrows furrowed, “What? What is?”

“Oh, just Oliver,” George sighed.

“What about him?”

“You know, after the match…” Fred added.

“What?” you said again, curiously. You desperately wanted to know. What were they talking about? Was Oliver alright? Was he mad at you?

“Oh, you know…” George sighed, again, faking disappointment.

“Fred, George, will you please just get on with it?”

“Well, y’know,” Fred said but stopped again.

“Merlin’s beard, you two are infuriating!” you whisper-shouted, “what is it?!”

“Hmm, you seem to care about Oli boy a lot,” George said thoughtfully, with a hand to his chin, “I wonder why that is, eh?”

“Please just get to the point,” you huffed, annoyed at yourself for feeling butterflies at the mention of this ridiculous idea. You were glad your hair was covering your cheeks or else they would surely be able to see you blushing.

“He’s quite disappointed he wasn’t able to go on that date with you,” Fred said smugly, “He was crying about it.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said, turning back to your work. They were only pulling your leg, you could tell.

“Ok, ok, maybe he wasn’t crying,” Fred rushed to tell you, “but he might as well have been.”

“Yeah, right,” you rolled your eyes.

“We aren’t lying, you know,” George rushed to Fred’s aid, “why would we ever do that?”

You snorted quietly under your breath.

“Alright, alright, all jokes aside, we saw you staring at him,” Fred told you, as he sat down beside you, “it’s obvious you like him.”

“And, it must be your lucky day, because he likes you too,” George added, taking a seat on your other side.

“So just ask him out.”

“It’s as simple as that.”

“We’re bloody geniuses, Georgie.”

“We bloody are, aren’t we?”

You were watching this scene unfold in absolute horror. Your cheeks were as red as a tomato and your stomach had dropped. People knew? They knew you liked him? Did you even like him? Did he even like you?

“I don’t know what you two are talking about,” you started, trying to compose the storm raging within you, “I don’t like him, you two are mad.”

“You have a favour, lying around in case you forgot,” George said, wiggling his eyebrows at you, “use it.”

The truth was, you had forgotten. You did have a favour overdue. The excitement of the win had made you forget that you could make Oliver do whatever you wanted.

“I will not do that! Are you two insane?” you exclaimed again. This idea was mad.

“Come on,” Fred whined, “it’s not like he can reject you. Which, if you ask me, he wouldn’t do anyway because he’s so bloody in love with you.”

“No! Absolutely not. There is a reason I’m not a Gryffindor, you know.” you protested.

“Hey! Oliver! Wood!” George shouted, much to Madame Pince’s dismay. She gave him a mean look and carried on reading. You looked at him in shock and harshly whacked him in the shoulder, to which he responded by snickering. What was he doing?

Oliver turned around and looked at you three before furrowing his eyebrows again. He got up from his spot and walked over to your table, while you gave George a murderous look.

“Hi.” he said, quietly, looking only at you.

“Hi,” you muttered back, a little breathless. Merlin, why were you behaving like this? You hated it.

“[Y/N] here, has something to say,” Fred said suggestively, as he stood up from his seat.

“Have fun, you two,” George said as he, too, stood up and walked away with Fred, leaving you and Oliver feeling incredibly awkward.

“So…” he tried to say casually but he was much too nervous to be in your presence.

“Uhh, I--, I wanted to call in that favour you owe me,” you said, thinking quickly before this becomes even more weird.

“Right,” he said gloomily, once again reminded of his loss.

“I…” unable to think of anything, you uttered the first things that came into your head as you glanced down at your incomplete homework, “I need you to tutor me.”

“Tutor you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“At the Three Broomsticks.” you added, not really sure why.

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” he nodded, looking a little surprised at your odd request.

Before you knew it, you were uttering the three words of confirmation that made both of your hearts leap simultaneously, “It’s a date.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows, unsure of what to say. A date? You cringed at yourself for even thinking of saying that.

“A date?” he asked, still surprised, but his tone suggested it was pleasant surprise more than anything.

“Uh, yes.”

“Alright.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll pick you up at 11? Next Saturday?” his heart was beating a hundred times per second but it was evident that the Gryffindor courage had kicked in.

“Yes. I’d like that,” you managed to get out.

“Alright, it’s a date.”

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bluewatsons · 3 years

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Anna Dorn, Why Are Women Obsessed with True Crime?, The Hairpin (May 2, 2017)

There are TV shows, podcasts, and now entire channels dedicated to female-focused murders—is it one big revenge fantasy?

During the season finale of Bravo’s “Vanderpump Rules,” Queen Bee Stassi Schroeder confronts Cool Girl Ariana Madix about why Ariana doesn’t like her (Stassi’s opener: “Why don’t you ever put me in your snapchats?”) The girls are beyond drunk, and Ariana responds by crying about her upcoming cocktail book. Stassi is thrilled to see Ariana vulnerable and comforts her, which Ariana appreciates. Beginning to show a soft side toward Stassi, Ariana says during a conciliatory cheers: “And don’t say I’m mean. I’m not mean. I’ll fucking kill you.”

Stassi takes a greedy sip of her beer, lighting up: “How would you do it?”

Ariana responds, “Well, it would be slow.” Stassi chuckles, delighted. “Because if I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna make it hurt.”

“Well maybe we have more in common than we think,” Stassi says, “because I like the thought of murdering people too.”

“I mean, if we couldn’t go to jail — ” Ariana begins.

“ — Hashtag murder,” Stassi interrupts. “For life. But like the number — ”

Now the women are speaking simultaneously, outlining the hashtag with their fingers: “4-L-Y-F-E.”

Stassi goes, “are we the same person?” The girls break out into wild laughter.

From self-proclaimed addictions to “Law & Order” and “My Favorite Murder,” to bizarre drunken reality TV power plays, it seems women are obsessed with murder. Or at least the idea of it. I’m a criminal defense attorney who has worked on murder cases, and I fully understand the tendency toward dark humor when dealing with traumatic subject matter: it’s sometimes necessary to stay sane. But it’s always struck me as odd the way women flippantly and delightedly confess an obsession with murder, as though revealing a salacious sexual fetish. And when Stassi and Ariana simultaneously uttered “#Murder4Lyfe,” I knew I needed to figure out what the hell was going on.

A 2010 study published by Social Psychological and Personality Science found that higher numbers of women are fans of true crime than men. Accordingly, crime fiction shows like “Law & Order: SVU,” “CSI,” and “Bones,” all boast a majority of women viewers. (Hell, Taylor Swift even named her cat Olivia Benson after “Law & Order”’s protagonist, and then went on to cast the actress Mariska Hartigay in her “Bad Blood” video.) Investigation Discovery (ID), a network that features documentary-style true crime shows mostly of a violent nature, is one of women’s most-watched cable networks on television. The female-focused Oxygen Network recently rebranded to focus on true-crime programming in order to remain competitive, phasing out shows like “Bad Girls Club” in favor of weekly podcasts like “Martinis and Murder.” The podcast “My Favorite Murder,” which is hosted by two women, hit the number 1 spot on the iTunes comedy list just five months after launching in the beginning of 2016.

A recent Atlantic article attributed women’s interest in “My Favorite Murder” and similar media to the “shadow hypothesis,” or the idea that the fear of sexual assault pervades women’s thinking and makes us more fearful generally. While it is unlikely that we or someone we know will be murdered by a stranger, it very likely we or someone we know has been or will be subjected to sexual violence from an intimate partner. Francine Prose wrote that beneath the “frothy, sexy” exterior of HBO’s recent hit “Big Little Lies,” the show conveys “a message about the prevalence of overt and hidden violence against women.” And even if we aren’t subjected to explicit violence, scholar Andrea Dworkin wrote that “penetrative intercourse is, by its nature, violent;” Catherine MacKinnon argued that it is “difficult to distinguish” rape from ordinary intercourse “under conditions of male dominance.”

One theory for the popularity of these shows among women is that after years of social conditioning to be agreeable and passive in the face of constant aggressions from the men they know, watching unfamiliar male perpetrators swiftly and harshly punished by the criminal justice system is a compelling narrative. Furthermore, women can position themselves as the aggressors (in a fictional world where they can “get away with it”) — a la Stassi and Ariana — for the same reason: a revenge fantasy or a sort of inverse Freudian sublimation of the threat.

The Atlantic article declared that women are drawn to these shows and podcasts as a way to ease our anxiety and to prepare us for real-life threats. In 2015, Julianne Escobedo Shepard chronicled her own ID addiction for Jezebel, describing a summer in which she watched the network “in what was almost a state of hypnosis.” As she “became more enthralled,” the “anxiety kicked in” — her dreams became filled with “vague threats in dark shrouds,” her days spent latching locks, “convinced that it was my fate to die horribly at the hands of an evil stranger with a violent past.” The words felt familiar as I read them, as I recall a similar summer — one in which I spent my days with my childhood best friend and true crime addict. Together, we would watch Dateline, 48 Hours, SVU for full days while nibbling dry cereal under blankets on the couch.

I thought the habit was harmless. In fact, I felt closer to my friend. Then one night I left her house to get sushi and became convinced someone in the restaurant was hatching a plan to kill me. My brain concocted an intricate plot, compelling me to wait in the bathroom until I could see his car leave through a crack in the window. I had developed true crime anxiety and, like Escobedo Shepard, I realized it was time to take it “down a notch.” But without the binge-watching, I no longer wanted to watch these shows at all. The obsession was part of the fun.

Psychology Today declared that from a neurological perspective, true crime narratives can be addictive to viewers:

People [] receive a jolt of adrenaline as a reward for witnessing the terrible deeds of a serial killer. Adrenaline is a hormone that produces a powerful, stimulating and even addictive effect on the human brain[….] The euphoric effect of serial killers on human emotions is similar to that of roller coasters or natural disasters.

Escobedo Shepard spoke to a fellow ID Addict from Florida, who admitted to watching the network “all day every day.” She explained the shows keep her “on her guard — especially being a single woman, it keeps me more aware to know what to watch out for.” Anna Breslaw likewise told The Atlantic that she “exorcis[es]” her “anxiety through obsessively reading about true crime.”

Social scientist Amanda Vicary worries that indulging a true crime addiction will only increase viewers’ anxiety, in turn creating “vicious cycle.” Vicary believes the media helps feed this paranoia: “we hear about women getting raped and killed, and we want to know more — possibly as an unconscious way to help us survive if something were to happen to us or to prevent something from happening — and in turn, we end up reading more and more about women being killed, fueling the paranoia.” The “My Favorite Murder” hosts feed this paranoia by concluding at the end of every show: “stay sexy and don’t get murdered.”

“My Favorite Murder”’s implicit thesis is that by being smart and fierce, women can protect ourselves from random attacks from rapists and murderers. The hosts have recounted the story of notorious serial killer Ted Bundy, who would lure his female victims by pretending to have a broken arm and needing help carrying his bags. Essentially, he attracted his female victims by playing into our conditioning to be polite. Accordingly, “Fuck politeness” is emblazoned on podcast merch.

While the idea that women should eschew their training to be agreeable in order to protect ourselves can be a powerful feminist statement, it becomes dangerous when we’re told the consequence is random attacks from serial killers. One of the hosts of “My Favorite Murder” frequently admits to rarely leaving the house. If these programs create anxiety to the point that women end up staying inside, they paradoxically reaffirm women’s place in the home — encouraging the very power imbalance that renders women vulnerable in the first place. Studies show that women are more likely to fear violent crime, despite that statistically men are more likely to be victims. Likewise, in the most publicized cases, the victim is a middle class white woman saved by a white man, and as Tara McKelvey wrote for the BBC, the “perception of victimhood is partly a media creation.”

Author Ariana Reines powerfully concluded in her blurb of Joni Murphy’s 2016 novel Double Teenage, which follows the lives of two girls coming of age in the 1990s: “Are dead women the only kind our culture wants or understands?” Early in the novel, the protagonist watches “Law & Order” every week with her father. She falls into the “comforting rhythm” of a “brutal attack” followed by a “swift rotation of justice.” I recently spoke to Murphy, who called the weekly procedural a “systems project” that repeatedly affirms that the cops and the DA are “doing their best” and “they know how to find the guilty person.” This is particularly comforting in a world where a Stanford athlete drunkenly rapes an unconscious woman found in an alley and is disciplined as leniently as though he were caught underage drinking. But anyone who has worked in or even read about criminal defense knows the way true crime shows portray the justice system is gravely unrealistic. In many murder cases, guilt is elusive. There are rarely eyewitnesses; even if there are, memory is imperfect. Forensic science is unreliable. There is no obvious “good guy,” no one is “evil.” Victims and perpetrators alike are poor victims of a system that repeatedly fails to protect them.

Murphy sees “Law & Order” and its spinoffs as offering “utter predictability” where none normally exists — “It is very black and white, a world without much nuance or history or deep humanity.” She also noted that shows like “Law & Order” are told from a male perspective, meaning that women watching “must watch through the male gaze to see characters they might identify with.” The general message these shows is: “you must trust the (male) structures to solve the crimes that will inexplicably happen to you.”

The tongue-in-cheek approach of My Favorite Murder, Martinis & Murder, #Murder4Lyfe is a turn away from the earnest “black-and-white” justice of “Law & Order.” Stassi and Ariana flip the narrative so that they position themselves not with the victim, but with the perpetrator. A recent interview with the My Favorite Murder girls played out similarly:

“As to the future of My Favorite Murder, well… “I think I want to start killing people,” Kilgariff deadpans. “I could get away with it, too.”my f

“Start with me! That’s the final episode,” jokes Hardstark.

But all versions derive from the same place: a fantasy about experiencing agency, having control over what is done with and to our bodies, unleashing the aggression we’ve been conditioned to keep bottled up. The problem is they’re all stuck in the “victim/aggressor mode” — as Murphy told me: “Liberation […] can’t just be a switching but a reorganization and move away from these binaries that cause suffering.” In an era in which the threat to women’s bodies is more intense than ever, it’s time we start examining women’s addiction to terror-inducing true crime programming — in which a fictitiously efficient and male-dominated justice system enacts revenge over dead women — with a more critical eye.

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onestowatch · 3 years

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Amanda Brown on the Artists’ Role in Society, COVID-19, and Advice to Young Women [Q&A]

Amanda Brown has had a hell of a career, but she wants you to know she is just getting started. Born and raised in the Bronx, the Puerto Rican/Jamaican vocalist and songwriter got her start as a fan-favorite on NBC’s The Voice and has made a name for herself backing up Adele, Stevie Wonder, and Alicia Keys… just to name a few.

With a resume apt to make just about any musician jealous, Brown is one of the most in-demand session and touring vocalists in the biz, but parallel to this work, she has been crafting her own artist career, writing mature, alt-pop tracks like “From Here.” Begging questions about self-acceptance and the uncertainty of the road ahead, “From Here,” released in October, became the perfect quarantine companion just before the presidential election as the nation stood at a crossroads. Though she originally expected to spend her year on tour busses and backstage, working with the industry’s A-listers, COVID-19 allowed her a once-in-a-lifetime chance to stay in and tell the stories of the year through her own artist project.

For Brown, her success as a songwriter and vocalist stems from more than sheer talent (though she could easily find success on her innate gift alone). It is her regimented soul-searching and her living by Nina Simone’s mantra “an artists’ duty is to reflect the times” that sets Brown apart from the pack as she builds her profile as not just a vocalist for others but as her own artist.

Ones to Watch spoke with Amanda Brown to recap her unexpected 2020, her advice to young women, and her plans for the new year.

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Ones to Watch: You've been working in various roles as a vocalist/musician for years. How do you approach your own music as an artist differently than the work you do with other acts?

Amanda Brown: When it comes to my work as a solo artist, I don’t hold back. What I mean by that is, when it’s my show and my recording session, I can do, say and sing whatever I want the way that I want! There’s a certain amount of freedom that comes with being a solo artist, accompanied by more responsibility. Whereas, when I am working with other acts, I am subject to the will and vision of those creatives. Not to say that I don’t enjoy those experiences and get lost in the music when I’m on stage. Performing with other acts carries it’s wonder as does my work as a solo artist and I feel blessed to have had the opportunity to experience both.

You've been on the road a lot in the last few years, but COVID-19 this year has forced you to stay home. Have there been any positives to this tough situation?

I definitely miss traveling, meeting new people and playing live shows (while being in the same room as the audience); however, this year has allowed me the opportunity to create music for the sync and licensing world, which I’m enjoying. This year has also allowed me time to myself to think, learn and do things I’ve always wanted to do but never had the time, like gardening for example. I most definitely had a black thumb prior to the start of this year. I believe I’ve grown as an individual, for the better. I’m strong and resilient - those aren’t qualities I would have necessarily attributed to myself in the past, not because they weren’t true but more so because I’d be too shy to say them out loud. Also, witnessing the resiliency and strength of so many others around me has left me inspired and hopeful for the future. Yes, there are many downsides to covid-19, the main one being the loss of life (I lost family and friends this year). With that said, I’m hopeful that we will make it through the rest of this difficult year with the support and love of each other. Community is important and this year has driven that point home for me.

We've seen a lot of people lean on music to get them through such a tough year. What do you think an artists' role is in our society today?

Nina Simone said, “an artists’ duty is to reflect the times” and I believe that to be true. Some artists are called to make social commentary, others are called to reflect upon their personal experiences and the experiences of those in their close circles. Either way, I believe art is a reflection of how an artist may be feeling, what they are experiencing and/or what they see others experiencing. Sometimes art is created to help people forget difficult things that are happening in the world - I believe that to be a reflection of sorts. Regarding myself and my art, I’m am learning to honor my feelings - not to silence myself in order to make others feel comfortable but to dig deep, be vulnerable and honest.

You've used your platform this year to speak on important social/cultural issues, especially in your collaboration with LACES for the single 'they say.' Has using your platform in this way always been a fundamental goal of your career?

I want to be myself and in order to accomplish that, I have to be honest at every turn. I may not share everything but when I do share, I want it to be the truth. Life experience has taught me that certain things should not be tolerated. Sexism, misogyny, white supremacy, homophobia, transphobia, ageism, classism, and any other type of prejudice and discrimination is fucked up and should not be tolerated! We need to stand up to that shit and anyone that seeks to perpetuate those toxic behaviors and systems - I believe that should be the goal of everyone, regardless of whether you’re an artist or not. These social and cultural issues are human issues, and they should matter to everyone.

There are many people who grow up, dreaming of a career like yours. What do you think it took to set yourself apart as a vocalist and artist?

Sometimes I think I know the answer to this question and other times, I have no idea. There are things I could list off like me being hard-working, detail-oriented and studious but I don’t think those attributes alone are responsible for the career I’ve been fortunate to have thus far. I have not made it to this place in my career on my own. There have been so many people that believed in me throughout my journey, encouraged me, recommended me for work and supported my music and artistry. I think it may be a combination of qualities I possess, music training, live music experiences and the individuals that helped create opportunities for me. Regarding my success as a vocalist and artist, I think I’m equally indebted to some of those individuals that helped me as I am to my innate propensity for creating music and art and being disciplined within my craft.

What was a turning point in your career that really changed your life?

I’d say being a contestant on The Voice changed the trajectory of my career. It allowed me to perform in front of a national audience weekly. As a result of being on that show, I’ve had a number of beautiful music experiences playing all over the world and meeting fans of the show and myself. I’m grateful for the platform The Voice allowed me and to those that continue to listen to and support my music after watching my performances on the show.

Do you have any advice for a young woman hoping to create a career in music?

Don’t be afraid to experiment in order to figure out what you like. You will fail. Failure is a part of life and helps us grow. No one can tell you what’s going to work for you and your artistry. Only you can decide what is right for your music and art and the way that you’d like to create and communicate that art. Trust your gut. No one should make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe EVER! Surround yourself with people that inspire you to be the best version of yourself. A career in music is not easy. Educate yourself as much as possible. Make a list of all of your goals, figure out how to accomplish them and then execute them. You will often be the only person advocating for your vision (until you find your team) - don’t give up! If you don’t believe in yourself, your gifts and your art, no one else will.

Looking ahead to 2021, what are some of your plans?

I’m ready to release more music and I can’t wait to perform in front of an audience. My next live show, I may try to hug every single person as they enter the venue, once it’s safe to do so of course. I’d want to collaborate with more female producers and songwriters. I’ve had lovely experiences working with women over the past three years and I want to create more of those opportunities for myself and others. I’m going to continue to build upon the good habits I’ve developed this year and pay more attention to my mental health. More gardening with homegrown fruits and veggies. I want a puppy friend next year, so I’ll be on the hunt for that little guy or gal. Also, people! I can’t wait to see people face-to-face...in-person and without masks or fear of getting sick because it’s no longer a big threat. I understand that all of the precautions we’re taking are necessary but I’m looking forward to the day when we can all hug and hang out together again.

Black Lives Matter! Trans Lives Matter! Stop Policing Women’s Bodies!

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#Amanda Brown #The Voice #pop #alt-pop

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shallowgravesrp · 3 years

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“Don’t doubt the silence for a quiet soldier. You never know if they walk in the darkness, the light, or a little of both.”

Marcel McKinnon

Age: Twenty-Four

House: Slytherin

Affiliation: Order

Career: Auror

Hard stares from across the room. Black robes. Scotch. The knowledge from a new book. Pride. Snow falling on the ground. An ambush on enemies. Greens. Family. Fresh coffee in the morning. Wind howling through the trees. Cracked knuckles. The work of quiet solider. Spells being thrown across a room. Raging fires. Bruised hands. Quiet conversations after a long day. Divide between family. Butterbeer. Watching the stars. The thought of hope. Fighting.

What we all know: The older McKinnon has been hiding a secret since he was a child. Turns out the mother who was supposed to love and care for him did the opposite. People wondered why he was so quiet and alone during Hogwarts, but he never told them why. Having only been close to his sister, Marcel didn't have much of a friend group outside of a few friends. Some figured he would never let anyone close to him, but that all changed when he met Emmeline Vance. Their relationship grew quickly to the point that they now have a child, long before they even talked about getting married. Hopefully the world will let this happy little family last.

TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF CHILD ABUSE

Marcel was born the first child, and only son, of a very powerful pureblood couple. His mother and father have grown up to be very strong and powerful wizards, who did everything they could to make sure their parents demands were met. The two of them didn’t believe in all the same things and often fought about which way was right, but something they seemed to agree on was the idea of raising their children to be strong, like their parents had raised them. When Marcel was born, his parents knew right away that he was going to be a strong willed and warrior of a child. Even when he was a baby, he would find his way into situations and then back out of them before his parents even noticed. As he got older, these habits only increased, until his sister was born. Marlene was the sibling that Marcel had always wanted. Someone who wasn’t as serious as his parents always were, but he knew would share in their family’s beliefs. He loved his sister from the moment she arrived and promised himself that he would always protect her, even if he knew she probably wouldn’t need it.

Marcel had always been the child to follow in what his parents told him to do, being the strong little solider that they wanted him to be. They told him to talk with these people, and only associate with those friends, he did as such. Part of him questioned if he was going to be stuck in this kind of life forever. Unable to pick his own friends and the life he wanted to have. He would keep pretending, acting like he was okay with this life and would always follow in the path that his parents had laid out for him, always being the dutiful son, but what most people didn’t know was that Marcel had been in survival mode. His mother had a temper, and that temper often came with abuse of its own. Marcel did what he could to ensure Marlene avoided their mother’s wrath. He was doing what he could to make sure both him and his sister were okay, no matter how many hits he had to take. His father turned his cheek to the whole thing, acting as though it wasn’t happening, even though he was against it happening. Marcel was fighting to take care of Marlene where his parents failed, and fighting to survive. Eventually it came time for him to go off to Hogwarts. While there was a part of him that felt relief to be away from his home, he still worried for the sister he was leaving behind, not trusting his father to actually protect her.

He had gotten on the train and spent some time with friends he already knew, discussing which house they all thought they would get into. Marcel had known that he was likely for one of two houses, either Gryffindor or Slytherin. Part of him was hoping that he might get Gryffindor and follow in his father’s footsteps, for he had always favored his father. Unfortunately for him, the odds weren’t in his favor, for when the hat was placed upon his head, it almost instantly called out the name Slytherin to the crowd before him. The young boy knew he would be fine in Slytherin because he had friends who were in that house as well, but that didn’t stop him from questioning why. Why would the hat put him in a house that he clearly didn’t feel right for? The answer to that question came a few years later, when Marcel was faced with a situation of his own. A friend he had made from another house admitted that he was a muggle born student, which was overheard by some of Marcel’s friend. Soon he watched as they teased and tried to bully the muggle student, calling for Marcel to join them. This was when Marcel knew that he had a choice; He could become just like the majority of people in house, or he could prove that while he had the attributes of a Slytherin, he was still a good man who believed in everyone having a right to magic.

Deciding to defend the muggle student seemed to seal Marcel’s fate. He was now left with little friends in his own house, but he honestly didn’t care. In all actuality, having less people to deal with gave Marcel the chance to do more school work and learn more about everything and anything he could. He spent the next four years constantly reading books and giving himself the opportunity to thrive in just about any subject he could. His dorm would always be surrounded by books and notes, and even some Quidditch equipment after practice. While his parents hadn’t initially been happy about what he did, eventually his father told him that he was proud of his son standing up for what he believed in, even if his mother wasn’t.

Once he was out of school, Marcel knew already that he wanted to be an Auror. That day he was able to stand up and defend that student, the times he did it afterward helped convince him what he was supposed to do in life. With the additional fact that tensions were starting to grow high in his family and he wanted to get out of the house as soon as possible, Marcel moved into London and got himself a little apartment, and applied to start training with the Aurors. This was another chance in his life to prove himself and prove that he was more than just his name. He wasn’t just going to be a little solider in his life that did every little thing his parents told him. There was more to life and more to him than that. Outside of work, his personal life hadn’t had much going for it, until Emmeline Vance walked into his life.

Marcel had been good at keeping a distance from people, letting people paint him as this mysterious person that no one knew anything about, but Emmeline was different. Something about her kept pulling him back in. The longer they were together, the more he wanted to be around her. The more he wanted to get to know her. However, what he really wasn’t expecting was the news that she was pregnant so early into their relationship. As was expected, he was shocked and knocked off his feet a little bit, but he didn’t miss a beat in being on board. While he never really imagined himself being able to have a family outside of an arranged marriage, he was excited to have this chance with Emmeline. While it wasn’t the ideal situation, they made the best of it and are now parents to a beautiful baby girl. Marcel, being the protective and loyal person he was, now finds himself doing what he can to keep his little family safe.

From a distance Marcel had watched as the war continued to brew out in the world, and even watched up close as it started to tear his family apart. Soon enough, Marcel’s mother was deciding to leave their families home, deciding she didn’t want to be with her husband anymore. Marcel tried to talk some sense into her, tried to tell her that they could still be a family, but she wasn’t willing to listen. Some might tell the story that he had choice at this point, to either go with his mom or stay with his dad, but there was no choice for Marcel. He stood next to his father and sister as they watched their mother walk out the door. He didn’t know if they would ever speak to her again, or if she would even be willing to come together a family in the future, when things were over. What he did know what that there was a war out there, and it was his turn to fight.

EMMELINE VANCE - Marcel had heard of Emmeline through working at the ministry, but it wasn't until he met her that he felt this strong connection to her. He couldn't say what it was, but she somehow worked her way into his life. Now they have a daughter together and he honestly has never felt happier, but he just hopes it lasts.

MARLENE MCKINNON - Marcel has always been close with his sister, making sure to take care of her when she needed it. When it came to their mother's abuse, he never told Marlene about it and made sure she never felt any of it. He would always do what it took in order to make sure she was safe.

AMYCUS CARROW - Amycus always acted like he knows better than anyone, and he's been like that ever since Marcel has known him. While they both kept to themselves for the most part, the moments Marcel does have to spend with Amycus are ones he loathes.

Marcel McKinon currently a CLOSED role with the faceclaim of Chris Wood. He is played by Admin Katie.

#marauders rp #dark rp #lsrp #marauders roleplay #hp rp #marcel mckinnon #taken #takenm #o #order #mention: emmeline vance #mention: marlene mckinnon #mention: amycus carrow #marcelmckinnonbio #tw: child abuse

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sikereviewdotcom · 4 years

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strawberry shortcake s2 ep1 - horse of a different color

this one was suggested by someone who couldnt keep their mouth shut and not sing the strawberry shortcake intro theme in the middle of our economy class

no one wanted to hear that, but they went ahead and then i actually followed up on that train of thoughts i remembered about the fucking cartoons and i knew it pronto: its a must-see shit its like slightly above the level of magical school bus series, but the final rating is for the fin not the beginning so lets begin this horseshit:

were reviewing “horse of a different color”, it focuses indeed on strawberrys horse, honey pie pony (its her entire damn name, how sweet right? like all of them, i got diabete from this review but its the cost of maintaining this blog anyway, the kids are playing together on a that tree having fun jumping around like chimpanzees hooba hooba but sadly our filly quickly realizes she cant play king kong with them and keep falling on her ass,

yet since theyre all retarded or young (id say its a fifty-fifty case for them kinda normal ig, i mean they ARE literal 6yo) they try several ways of getting her up on that tree, not thinking how to get her down if they ever were to succeed (good for them: aint happening) its child labor too btw, from an horse still same deal what if honey pie fell down on them? crushing them corpses with her mighty pounds? the findus company would be delighted to hear such news, im sure its some quality (sweet ass) horse meat

once it all fails she understands a horse isnt meant to climb a tree, too big too fat its four legged, not even entertaining the relationship giraffes have with trees

but it aint over, then (after a talk with herself) hp hears the laughters of a bunch of kids which catches her attention, it always does who can ignore that sorta noise? although she aint annoyed by it shes just into the idea of riding a bike now, shes even gonna get a go at it oh yea thats it we finally found her human hobby gogdamn shes a backward furry

of course it fails aswell since she has no hand for the handle and shes heavy so i guess its the reason why she rides into w/e and cant stop? because otherwise she couldve also just.. actually it makes no sense does it? i mean she couldve easily stopped the ride actually how is that kid bike even holding her? ive never tried putting a pony on a bike for 6 y/o but i doubt about its capacity in not being crushed aswell as i doubt in the kids bones not being severely damaged after a visit under honey pies horsy buttcheeks

but all of that really makes her sad: she cant play with her human friends and shes the only horse around strawberry land or whatever see me tearing it for her, theres so much emotions in this episode especially after that filly trynna get kids to get into some horseplay horseshit like dude theyre only 6, lets go easy on them, might have a problem with the parents of the kids watching this episode no one even thought how fucked up this one part is? sure horseplay isnt only sexual or w/e but it still is the visual of 6yos on all four jumping around and neighing together with their ass a little bit too exposed wow im going on a dangerous road here? aint i? not gonna sue the writers im sure it was their subconscious speaking probably got issues from their childhood, eventually got them sorted out since 2004 what do i know? aside from me not caring

back on track : after seeing horsey being so sad the kiddos decide to get her a horse friend but where the fuck? they got no idea, they are proud nonetheless and go tell honey the good new until they are like “wait but we have no idea where to find horses!” ofc we get a big reveal, some serious strawberry shortcake lore: actually all the horses, ALL OF THEM FROM THE ENTIRE FUCKING PLANET are on one (1) single island: ice cream themed to diversify it all they are just chilling over there in ponyland and for some reason this one here got lost or idk guys she took the boat and checked the rest of the world out as an even younger filly, found strawberry and her friends and decided now she was a centaur slash humanrry furry human, idk you get it but shes their friend and so on to introduce the concept of an AWESOME island full of equestrian activity and ofc ice cream but its kinda lame because who cares? everythings already made out of food, also why isnt the ice cream melting? its one water? nevermind for the introduction as i was saying, hp sings an horrendous sounding song it deteriorated my ear drums they got pierced or something or maybe im exagerrating? either case horses cant sing:

so to the ice cream land they go, huh

of course it wouldnt be a big adventure without an almost broken bridge oh no whatever shall we do? could we possibly cross it safely? lets try it out guys: yay it worked good for us little stress and suspense it was wack how they got honey pie out of the hole her big ass hoove made im mesmerized by the power of friendship and sugar at this point, just in full awe for the rest of the episode probably over dosed on all the ice cream flavoured horseshit, i got some all over my mouth its dripping on my desk i gotta clean that later

next thing we know: horses its all this episode is about (aside from labor) but you see, so far hp would switch between normal human language and neighing well turns out her other fellow equines can only neigh and so they just neigh together while our english well-spoken mammal translates to the moronic kids who just smile smuggly

of course the animals are having a welcome party then, dancing around while the morons are just bored, harsh one being a cartoon character isnt it guys? w/e theyre gonna ask for honey pie to come back home now, convinced that her natural habit isnt her place and she loves them too much to just leave them and never come back and break any plans they ever had together- oh shit looks like shes leaving forever huh? what a plot twist mark that on the bitch quota for today

the first one to leave is the little boy btw, important thing to note: hes the biggest pussy he cant even face reality: oh no, no more pony back time before sleep thats quite a bummer, downer and man how are they going to survive now they got no animal to watch over them? jesus theyre soon, on the boat (idk where they got it from idk why suddenly theyre on a boat because then theyre once again gonna cross that bridge but ok) anyway yea theyre having a relationship crisis during that ship trip yada yada ah and the bridge, because (see i do not call them morons for now reasons obviously they deserve this title not only because theyre 6 but also because they are just daft:) they proceed, once in the middle of the bridge all 4 of them, to stop and wonder

“will the bridge be able to hold all of us? wont it break? damn i wonder if it will crack” and they talks without moving until vlam: a tree comes and breaks it (dont ask) so now theyre in trouble:

back to ponyland: bitch pie realizes how much she misses her actual friends and that she can speak english which her other horse friends cant do so she is special and probably abnormal, shes a big outcat of the pony society and has no other reason but to escape her incoming death sentence for fraternizing with the humans of course none of the second part is true, she just wants to see the kids again so she says asta la vista baby to the neigher team and runs away see, she hasnt taken the boat and yet also arrive to the bridge? why a boat sequence then? i will skip this for now but it WILL play in the rating, imagine im the parent of the youngster watching this crap and i have to endure it

if it sucks this bad and is this illogical i might just get bored and change the channel, idc my progeny aint gonna be watching this in either case, ill make them watch political debates then interrogate them on what they learned after what but it wasnt actual political debates just random furry youtuber venting with their fursona sprites animated and thats how you make your kids retarded, the kick of this joke is that i aint planning on getting any kids but totally gonna make them watch classics too such as the attack of the killer donuts as soon as they reach 6 so they wont be dumb and probably not getting diabete or w/e in their adulthood

then honey pie saves the kids btw all of them, heavy shit

and they all go back to strawberryland, happily after a big “wow i missed you sm, you are my real friends w/e if you dont look like me i aint speciest guys really!” theyre all vegan too btw so this works for them i havent watched enough strawberry shortcake episodes to know if they ever eat meat but i have doubts seeing how theyre into a very cannibalistic diet which include eating dessert when obviously thats what they are at least half part, this cartoon raises a lot of political questions it may have a deeper value than i first attributed to it

the end: another terrible song plays about horseshit and how tasty it is

thats all folks

so the rating: big 6/10, so you know 5/10 if its a decent kid show where im highly eager to click on the x and get back making jams but nah

surprisingly enough, i only wanted to stop watching half of the episode and not the entirity of it so credits for thats since im an adult and not a kid, imagining kids enjoyed this sweet childish cartooness or w/e now why +1? its because of how many political questions it raised, how it made me think about our society and cakes yknow its more than kids having a conflict with an horse it talks about veganism, specism, handicap, cannibalism, the management of the limited ressources were exploiting and so on yea really makes you think, its subliminal messages to make kids smarter: they watch their dessert-imbecile counterparts doing bs and then get it right irl: good ah- it also makes it better for you when youre watching this with your kid, you suddenly transcend to another level of spirituality, existential crisis activated or at least reasoning mode or w/e youre willing to name this the point is you arent bored still despite all of this i rated it quite low for such a serious kid cartoon what couldve possibly made me tic? 1) kids are morons and cant understand all of this, not clear enough for the targeted public 2) projection onto the characters/dialogues from the writers of their childhood traumas (the horse play event didnt go unnoticed, karren brown) 3) my little pony ripoff 4) its controversial, our society, especially in 2004 couldnt understand the depth of this shit and finally 5) i got so much ice cream flavoured horseshit all over my desk god help me this is so filthy what a fucking mess i would totally recommand it to anyone who feels like being blown away by the statements made in this work of art 6/10 but really we all know in the future, itll be a 9/10, some ahead-of-its-time-crap

tg, out

#strawberry shortcake #cartoon review #cartoons #sike reviews #child labor #pony labor #art #classic #diabete fuel #reviews

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insectchurch6-blog · 4 years

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seminar company tochucsukienhcm

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#to chuc hoi thao

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tleecacc · 4 years

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Virginia Lee

My mom came into this world on November 11, 1922. She loved that she was born 11/11/22. And she loved that it was something genuinely unique. That it held all the axioms of synchronicity.

She often proudly told the story of when she was born, how she was so tiny the doctor’s did not expect her to live. As a last resort, a last ditch effort to save her life, the doctor gave my mother horse serum. Apparently that was a thing. And when she made it through the night, the doctor came in the next morning to tell her mother and father that miraculously she was gaining strength. He said to her parents, my grandmother Eulalia, and grandfather Daniel, ‘this little girl is a fighter’ …That she was.

She was born into an era that included the great depression. She lived through a world war, and so many incredible changes that the 20th century presented its almost unfathomable. Some of which she out right rejected, others she eventually either accepted or adopted. Her first microwave oven was used as a bread box for years before she agreed to learn to use it properly. She was the original, ultimate minimalist. She saved wax paper, rubber bans, bread bags and aluminum foil. She abhorred the idea of just throwing things away after one use, which culminated in receiving food gifts wrapped in layers wax paper, encased in at least two bread bags, held tightly together with six rubber bans. She was also a vitamin freak and insisted on a well balanced diet. We were not allowed to leave the house without drinking orange juice that was kept in as air tight a container as possible, so as not to lose its rich life giving force. She detested impracticality. We’d by her gifts to make her life easier but she would eventually admit to one or another of us, ‘Its so unnecessary, I don’t need it’ ‘I’ll never use it. My old (fill in the blank) works just fine’ etc.

I thought she was the most gentle person ever to touch her feet to this earth. And I believed she couldn’t possibly love anyone as much as she did my brother’s and sisters and I, until she met her grandchildren. My mother held an extraordinary amount of love in her heart for each of them.

She found her spiritual path in the love and devotion she exhibited towards her family everyday of her life, and to every person she encountered, with few exceptions. She prayed for all of us everyday. Harder if she thought we were in special need, a heart was aching, someone's health was in question, a soul was at risk… or you spent time in bars which is the same thing… so yeah, she prayed a lot.

My mother was one of 11 children born to Daniel and Eulalia May. When you come from large families such as ours, you can spew out the names of your offspring or siblings in successive order as if it were one name. For my Mother’s family it was

BobDorthyVirginiaMaryRitaBillLoraineDaveDanBarbaraTom. And by the time my mother was 14 years old, she was a mother to her 8 younger siblings, as her mother was rarely well. She never complained about that role. She loved her brothers and sisters and was devoted to their care. She loved each of them and their individual take on life. She was very proud of the life they each garnered for themselves and their children. She was happy to see them living in a world less harsh than the childhood they endured. She held an extraordinary capacity of love in her heart for each of them. And she took their needs on without the least bit of resentment or regret.

My mother’s family moved 17 times in her years at home. In a family with six gorgeous women you can imagine the stir it caused within each neighborhood they were adopted into. They were the May girls. With their flowing red, auburn and black heads of hair, their Miss America smiles and that undeniable May sense of fun loving humor. To say they were gregarious almost doesn’t do their personalities justice.

My momma was beautiful, physically and spiritually. She loved her life. She was radiant in the outdoors and pushed us daily to be out in the fresh air. She was athletic. Mom made the varsity field hockey team as a freshman. She never drove a car and so walked everywhere. And I mean everywhere. Which may explain the athletic prowess of her children. As toddlers, when the newest sibling took over your spot in the stroller, we had to run along side her to keep up. Although she only stood four foot eleven, she had legs that moved incredibly fast. This tiny, feisty, determined woman walked everywhere and loved every minute of it, so it was hard on all of us to see the loss of that freedom in the recent months when her health finally took that joyful ability away.

According to my mother, the advent of television was humanities downfall, and she was determined to get us children out of doors in the fresh air. She loved picnics in the park and spending time in our large back yard (‘you can’t find a back yard like that just anywhere’). She took us places on busses when my dad did not. We rode to the Art museum, Steinberg, downtown, the Muny free seats, all of forest park really and of course Cardinal Glennon Hospital. A place I believe they new her by name. She made sure we learned to swim, rode bikes, and spent as much time as possible at Jamieson park. She ensured we ran, play ball of any and every kind. All of which we each embraced and learned to love. And to this day we, each of us appreciates her love of nature, because she instill that same love in each of us.

We woke every morning to a good, most often hot breakfast. We were not allowed to escape without first downing a glass of orange juice. Our nutrition was high on her list. Good food on our plates was something she did not often have as a child and often went hungry. I think she is the only person I know who actually did walk uphill to and from school…in worn-out clothes and ill fitting shoes. So to my mother, giving your children what you didn’t have meant that we had everything that was important. Sometimes more, but never less.

She made Christmas Eve our best family celebration every single year. And the tradition goes on today, and will never fade if most of us have our way. It was one occasion that brought us together without fail with all of our clashing personalities, boisterous voices, our loud laughter, and our undying competitive spirits. And an occasional cartwheel from Uncle Laurie. It wasn’t always easy. It was always crowded. And nothing gave her greater joy than to see us all hugging and joking and telling stories, especially if they were about her. She never once let us for a minute question her deep abiding love for us, and she laced all of it with her Irish, indelible May family sense of humor.

My mother was hilarious and she’d be the first one to let that be known. Her sense of humor was one of her great attributes and oh so contagious. My mom instilled in us a basic truth, that one can get through any hardship with prayer and an ability to laugh at ones own foibles. Besides, they made for better stories. And she was the ultimate storyteller, often laughing harder than everyone in the room. She’d sometimes be laughing so hard you couldn’t make out the punch line. And she loved a good practical joke. She once turned off the kitchen lights and laid herself out on the floor, playing dead, to scare my brother Scott, after he and my brother Chris had just spent an hour telling my sisters and me scary stories in the dark. Stories and antics that made us scream with fear and laughter, except maybe Laurie. She screamed alright but then burst into tears….of course…Because Laurie cries at everything so, grain of salt. But man she got him good. And laid there on the floor laughing so hard her belly shook.

She had the most contagious smile. Broad and genuinely warm and engaging. Her laugh was the most incredible music I’ve ever known. If she was telling you a story that she found particularly hilarious, it was all she could do to get the words out as she could hardly breathe. In those moments it didn’t matter that you might not be able to understand her, her joy was a gift.

She made our life so amazing. Nine kids in a 2 bedroom house with a 1/2 story attic big enough for 5 girls to share, like a dorm room. A finished basement where we could roller skate when it rained, or play ping pong or pool and a room that held a zillion board games, blocks, bats, balls, snow suits and boots, a record player, dart board, and the electric trains we set up every Christmas. She taught us to play cards, and never complained when we turned up the stereo or radio when we girls were doing dishes, or dad was out of the house.

She pitched whiffle balls, set up our croquet game or let us use her clothes line for badminton or volleyball. She let us dig in the dirt, play with the hose when it was hot, had my dad build us a sand box and a swing set. She taught us how to cross stitch and made paste with flour and water to stick our construction paper cutouts together. She was unstoppable. She was the ultimate mother. I am who I am today because on 11/11/22, the day God took his wand and cast stardust across the universe and breathed life into my sweet sweet mother, the tiny infant that was not expected to live. She fought for her own life and that of her children and grandchildren with love and prayer and sheer determination. She fought with a deep love for life and heart felt prayer from her soul, for each of us.

The last day she was awake, she gave me a message to pass on to her children. It was a moment I will never forget for the remainder of my own days, and worth repeating often.

‘Tell the children I said goodbye.

Tell them that I love them so much.

Tell them to be good to their mother’s and dads, they love them so much

I love them so much’

I said, I promise momma, I love you so much

She said, ‘I love you more.’…I love you more. How could I ever argue that.

Addendum:

Since the funeral, I have wanted to finish my acknowledgments of the remainder of my siblings that I did not mention at church. Sorry, I lost if after Peggy…

To:

My brother Christopher Dennis, for all the quiet stoic patience that my mother instilled in you. I remember how you always got on your bike and ran errand for mom as a kid. How you took on babysitting duties and made those times fun for us. How you rarely, if ever, complained about life in the middle of 9 kids. How much joy you gave her with the attention and love you gave to our brother Mark. It made her so happy. Mom loved you so much and I could always see her appreciation of you and your gentle way of being. When I look at you, I see that part of her in you.

Mark Joseph, wish you could read and understand me so I could tell you how incredibly much she loved you. Words could never convey.

James, I’m happy she is finally able to bestow all of herself on you now.

Carol Lee. Mom loved you so so deeply. She worried about you constantly, and was so grateful to be able to be there for you in the hard times you suffered from a disease doctors knew very little about in your younger years. She was always so happy to hear your sweet voice on the phone, and to know you were okay. I know she hated leaving you. Thank you for always staying so closely connected to her.

Laurie Lee. She thought she was finished having her passel of children, but as she was apt to reminded you, she decided she had room for just one more, and that was you. I love how much you loved her. How you kept in contact with her and worried about her. You were her last and she enjoyed spoiling you with her time and attention in the years when you were the last be at home with her before grade school. She always noted your generous heart, and you are more like her in that way than many, you just cry more…then again maybe not. She was so proud of you and how hard you worked for the sisters. You are so devoted to your own family, and working for the nuns is almost as good as having a priest for a son…, but not quite so don’t get a big May head about it. Lucy I am so grateful to have been there, to bare whitness, as you, her youngest child, knowing this would probably be her last meal bravely spoon feed her, through tears of course, that last bit of ice cream. I will never forget it.

Finally I come to Scott David. This one, will get to me the most. I spent many hours over my lifetime watching my mom with her own struggles, for her strength to take care of her brood with little sleep, for her ability to keep going after a particularly difficult day with the Bear, which were many, to fight her own depression from being overwhelmed with the enormity of the load she bore everyday from the sheer logistics of her life. But you Scottie were my hero in that. You could make mom laugh with just a one liner as you came barreling through the door. You were a true angel in mom’s life and therefore all of our lives. You brought her more joy with your own May sense of humor than all of us put together. You made her day, everyday that you were near her, and for that I could never repay you. I relished every single moment of watching you, with your quick and whitty sense of irony, make her laugh, make her smile, make her silently giggle. Thank you for all the Johnnie Carson nights you spent with her. I enjoyed watching the two of you at that hour more than any other hour of the day, because you could always bring her relief with your own joy of life. Thank you for all the practical jokes you put up with from her. They were the best and I was always on board with being in on them. You as much as mom taught me that with a humor, everything, no matter how difficult, can be made better, could be eased. I can never find the words to express how much hope you brought back to us when you lifted her spirits. Thank you for giving her so much joy. I don’t know what she would have done without you in her life.

Love you Momma,

Theresa Lee

#grandmaginny virginialee

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daggerzine · 4 years

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Other Music documentary (2019- directed by Puloma Basu and Rob Hatch-Miller) review by Dina Hornreich

“It is harder to put together than to take apart.” A plain and not-so simple comment coming from the former Other Music Record Store co-owners, Josh Madell and Chris Vanderloo, who are prominently featured in the film, as these words underscore a scene in which their crew is dismantling their once hallowed CD sales racks in preparation for the store’s reluctant closure. OM used to herald as a beacon of hope in NYC’s bustling offbeat East Village neighborhood, a cultural hub known as St. Marks Place – not far from New York University. (If you asked any New Yorker for directions, they would enthusiastically tell you to simply “get off at the stop for Astor Place Station from the #6 or #4 [subway] train: you will see the gigantic cube immediately after exiting the station...can’t miss it!”)

The OM store opened its doors in 1996, and officially closed in 2016. Twenty years is a very good run for any kind of establishment such as this one, especially in the Big Apple – a fact that was not taken lightly by the two makers of this film who each were an employee and a regular customer at the establishment themselves! And like the store itself: the film is an endeavor for music nerds by music nerds. (And, obviously, this Dagger Zine review is no different.)

For creatively inclined weirdos like us, OM was a place of refuge. It was a major meta-musical mecca that happened to take the form of a retail outlet which is a very bold endeavor to consider: an unusual existence as a cultural outlet that strove to challenge our knowledge, expand our awareness, and promote the discovery of completely unknown (even uncomfortable) expressions. This mentality was not conducive whatsoever to the slick sales-driven experience one might come to expect upon shopping for any traditional kind of consumable commodities. And we certainly did not receive that kind of treatment while shopping there anyway!

OM’s purpose was contrary to basic principles of economics because it was run by artistic types who believed in a much higher purpose behind what they were selling: it was a community focused approach. In doing so, they completely confounded the basic notion that we were purchasing mere commercial products to be unloaded for profit (like toothpaste). The store’s very existence was a subversive act of culture jamming in and of itself. This information in conjunction with a solid awareness of the cut-throat and risky nature involved with doing any kind of enterprising endeavors in NYC is extremely pertinent. (I was once told that any restaurant in NYC would be far more successful if it were in another location simply because the competition alone would be considerably less stiff.)

Instead, they were offering something very unusual to their customers by incorporating some kind of pseudo-quasi-intellectual discourse using extraordinarily inventively stylistic fusions and/or varied often inconceivable sonic experiments to create such astute, pithy, and massively passionate descriptions that would be entirely ineffective as a sales strategy to the less tolerant/picky shoppers at the overpowering Tower Records across the street. The store had a unique energy that was entirely its own manifestation. Bin categories had mysterious names such as: in, then, decadanse, etc. that baffled even the artists whose own work was often filed underneath them, as evidenced by the hesitant testimony provided by indie rock luminary Dean Wareham (of the bands Galaxie 500 and Luna). In fact, these idiosyncratically descriptive insider taxonomies were typically used as a rite of passage upon orienting new store employees to OM’s unique aesthetic.

The delectably raw live in-store performance footage of more acquired tastes, but definitely well-loved by those “in the know,” included bands who simply could not have thrived in the same ways at more conventional outlets: The Apples in Stereo, Neutral Milk Hotel, The Rapture, etc. The most delightfully peculiar act might have been delivered by a performer named Gary Wilson whose legendary appearance began with him surreptitiously entering the store while beneath a blanket and then (from behind the scenes, presumably) covering himself in talcum powder prior to seizing the stage with unabashedly alarming flamboyance – with only the playful tunes that would we expect to appropriately match that indelible image so gloriously!

And that was precisely the point: they were unequivocally rebelling against more conventional music consumption habits by offering an entirely different kind of taste-making experience that was kind of less palatable overall – and, in doing so, they even helped launch the careers of some important figures: Vampire Weekend, Animal Collective, and Interpol. The description of the “consignment” process for emerging artists who managed to attain a place on their sanctified shelves seemed extraordinarily modest considering the scope and nature of the impact it offered. There was a lot of social currency behind the OM brand.

The inclusion of a parody skit starring Aziz Anzari and Andy Blitz (available here as well https://youtu.be/YN1mKiQbi4g), followed by the various customer testimonials (including actor and musician Jason Schwartzman), indicated that they may have exuded more than a hint of an unflatteringly, even off-putting, air of NYC hipster pretentiousness akin to that portrayed in the Nick Hornby book, Stephen Frears movie, and/or the new Hulu series (involving both Hornby and Frears): High Fidelity. However, there were clearly very good reasons for them to do this: They represented an extreme mishmash of strange characters who collectively embodied all the historically marginalized shapes, sizes, colors among other attributes that would not have been celebrated (or considered marketable) elsewhere. If they weren’t a little snooty, they probably would have been mocked entirely – as evidenced by an astute and pithy comment by a long-time store employee describing Animal Collective as appearing like a “sinister Fraggle Rock on acid.”

These artists never aspired to becoming real “rock stars” anyway – on the contrary, they embodied the antithesis of that concept. (A point made abundantly clear as they bookended the film with footage of ordinary musicians simply marching through the streets of NYC.) Literally, OM offered shelter to those of us who are able to truly appreciate the anthemic idea behind the phrase: “songs in the key of Z.” It was a place for gathering the outsiders among outsiders, in other words.

It is impossible to ignore various impressive personalities who made appearances throughout the film, in both large and small roles. This includes but is not limited to major NYC scene contributors such as Lizzy Goodman, author of the equally compelling and similarly themed book: Meet Me in the Bathroom: Rebirth and Rock’n Roll in New York City 2001-2011. Footage in the film included key figures in influential bands including: TV on the Radio, Le Tigre, The National, Vampire Weekend, Yeah Yeah Yeahs (all of whom are also featured in Goodman’s book). You can also see glimpses of varied lesser known, yet supremely compelling figures of that era, including writers Kandia Krazy Horse and Geeta Dayal, and former store employees such as Lisa Garrett and Gerald Hammill.

These conversations take place until we eventually witness the demise of Tower across the street (and its many ilk of like-minded big box stores) which clearly signaled the ever-looming end for Vanderloo and Madell’s opus-like enterprise. A point that musician Stephin Merritt, best known for so many stellar masterpieces with his longest-running outfit, The Magnetic Fields, emphasizes upon casually observing the degrading presence of a fitness studio franchise that has since taken up residence in the spot that used to house Tower’s second floor. (I failed to try and restrain myself from recalling a new sense of irony from the lyrical lines that Merritt himself had written and recorded around 1991: “Why do we still live here.. In this repulsive town? All our friends are in New York.”)

There is also a bit of an underlying insinuation only apparent from random customer shots throughout the store regarding a possible impact from the Rough Trade Records shop that had recently opened in Brooklyn around the time of OM’s closing. This is exceedingly apparent to this biased writer herself who personally ventured out to that Williamsburg location last year for an in-store performance with NYU Punk Professor, Vivien Goldman, who had just published her own book Revenge of the She Punks. An event whose audience clearly included some members of the OM community featured in this film as I recall the store had heavily lauded her Resolutionary compilation album release prior to its official closing.

As the film successfully affirms the significance behind record store culture (especially in a global hub like NYC) which has long been hailed as a sacred gathering space for various misfits and weirdos who might find significantly less understanding and/or productive social outlets in other circumstances; its unavoidable bittersweet conclusion dramatically asserts how disappointing it is for us to witness the complete loss in their consistently tenuous financial viability as we are well into the digital information age – if not for the simple fact that paying for music (or any kind of intellectual property) is more commonly perceived as an anachronistic practice which is a clear and painful affront to all the prescient creative geniuses who are struggling to make an honest living off their work.

The film highlights the many multifaceted aspects that we fondly and endearingly associate with the appreciation of music that lies at the heart of the irrational fervor behind record collecting culture: the smell of the vinyl itself, the enormous visual impact around the artists’ choices for cover art, the substantial weight it possesses when we remove it from the sleeve, the delicacy necessary to handle vinyl so as to minimize any potential damage, its often very limited quantities as it is not cost-efficient to produce (the obscurity is intrinsically part of the exhilaration surrounding this “hunt”) among other substantial inconveniences that more or less confirm this as an unproductive – if not entirely illogical – endeavor overall!

Of course, it has always been very apparent to us that we were engaged in some insanely addictive bizarre kinds of quests that kept leading us to this absurd little locale in the first place – desperately trying to pacify some nebulous and insatiable deep cravings that we couldn’t always articulate… yet it always kept us coming back for more! As Mac McCaughan from the bands Superchunk and Portastic, as well as co-owner of Merge Records, astutely concludes: “They knew what you wanted before you knew.” (Of course, they did!)

The overarching and staunch message of this film is most apparent during the final closing scenes when we are eavesdropping on a conversation that the former co-owner, Josh Madell, is having with his young daughter about simply streaming the Hamilton Soundtrack on Spotify because the vinyl copy would have cost her $90 in the store. Perhaps even more ironic, of course, might be suggested by the very relevant context in which we find ourselves today: the annual Record Store Day celebratory event with which the film’s re-release was planned to coincide obviously could not happen. As a result, I was reluctantly watching it, albeit self-consciously, on my 13” laptop screen in my home office during the self-quarantine of COVID-19. Half the proceeds for the “tickets” were to be used to support one of my favorite local record shops here in Denver, CO, Twist and Shout, who may or may not be able to reopen as this pandemic situation evolves.

There are bigger questions to contemplate as the tide of change has only just begun in ways that only a tragedy, such as a worldwide pandemic, can facilitate for even the most obstinate luddites who have no choice but to incorporate regular use of digital formats in their daily habits – and we totally have, of course! This documentary remains as unequivocal evidence of the viability behind OM as it stood as an historic cultural hub that transcended the fundamental premise behind a commercial retail outlet. (Even though retail was once considered the only aspect of the industry where substantial money could be made. In fact, a measure of an artists’ success was often the number of albums they actually sold.) As its impact clearly exceeds its impressive years as a store-front operated business, it may also indicate a shortcoming in mainstream outlets who tend to ignore, silence, dismiss, and otherwise relegate the disempowered voices in our community – which, of course, are the major reasons that forced us to seek out these alternate forums in the first place.

The role of arts and culture for society is in fact to provide the very same opportunities that OM offered to us, which is (to reiterate that point from above) to provide an opportunity for discourse that challenges our knowledge, expands our awareness, and promotes the discovery of the completely unknown (even uncomfortable) expressions. These conversations give our lives meaning and force us to continually improve ourselves on many levels. While such commentaries could be considered an acquired taste or even an entirely esoteric endeavor, the crucial sensibilities they offer hold enormous potential for a world that honestly seems to need to hear from us… now more than ever!

If only we could find a better way to invite the integration of our perspectives into the bigger conversations? So that we can participate in the innovations for the changed world that will be waiting for us – and to ensure that it will be a more inclusive place for all of us. Which is perhaps what we ultimately (and so desperately) need, want, and deserve. The alternatives seem frighteningly Orwellian… at the risk of seeming a bit histrionic.

http://www.factorytwentyfive.com/other-music/?fbclid=IwAR3wtvtOKKC46YmfwjB6zv0wp5GMh4YBHFuWk0aLOti5m2NSs8PFChjrK4M

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areyougettingenoughoxygen · 4 years

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Don’t Listen to the Nay-Sayers, I’ve Got a Love for Pokemon Sword/Shield

As I was trying to figure out something to post about this week, I was also trying to get a Grookey egg for a friend. That turned into me getting off the computer, laying down, and just playing Pokemon Shield. It may have been a good idea: not only did I hatch a shiny Grookey for myself after only 21 eggs as well as found a shiny Gigantamax Hatterene online, but I also found something I wanted to write about.

DISCLAIMER: I wrote this the day before the Direct came out talking about the new Expansions, so those will not be discussed in this write-up.

I’m presenting at the Pop Culture Association’s National Conference in April, with my topic being about how Pokemon’s fanbase refuses to evolve alongside the games. My research over winter break from school was supposed to be playing through all 8 gens of games, but I keep finding myself just playing Pokemon Shield. It may just be because I’m procrastinating, but I have Pokemon Red up on my 3DS just sleeping while I’m actively playing Pokemon Shield. Sorry Charmander, but the Galarian region is calling to me.

Before I got Pokemon Shield, I was one of the people who was in disbelief over what was deemed “Dex-It,” a term given to the fact that not all previous Pokemon would enter the region of Galar. Even more soured on the Pokemon Sword/Shield hype train, once reviews for Sword/Shield came out giving the game extreme praise, I began having almost resentment towards the title. How could a game with half the Pokemon and graphics looking like they came out of a Nintendo 64 rank better on IGN than any game since Black 2/White 2 (including the infamous Omega Ruby/Alpha Sapphire “7.8 - too much water” ranking)?

Regardless, I decided that I wanted it near release, and it’d be unfair of me to judge a game based on what people said rather than what I felt about it. The weekend that Pokemon Sword/Shield came out, I worked Friday and then doubles on Saturday and Sunday so that I could use the tip money that I accumulated towards Pokemon Shield. That Sunday, I walked over to my local Gamestop and picked up my copy, took it home, and started up the game. I was so exhausted that I only got to the starter selection portion of the game before falling asleep, but once I had my energy back, I went to work with my Pokemon buddies.

I almost always choose the Grass starter (except for lieking Mudkips in Gen 3), so Grookey was a natural choice for me. Besides, just look at that face. How could I NOT choose Grookey? Something that Pokemon Sword/Shield did better than any Pokemon game before it though is giving each and every starter a distinct personality. When Leon (the champion of the Galar region and your rival Hop’s brother) sends out the three Pokemon for you to select between, you’re treated to a cutscene of Grookey, Scorbunny, and Sobble interacting with one another. My heartstrings were tugged as I chose Grookey and Hop chose Sobble, leaving Scorbunny all alone. Leon assured Scorbunny that it could come with him and Charizard though, and I found myself elated that all three starters had homes. I hadn’t even had a Pokemon battle yet, and I was already invested in what would happen to the three starters in the game.

Hop won’t be the only rival you encounter throughout the game though, as many trainers are looking to advance in the challenge to become Pokemon Master. Marnie, alongside her faithful Morpeko, is also fighting to be the best like no one ever was. Cheering her on are Team Yell, which take on the roles of redeemable baddies much like Team Skull of Sun/Moon rather than outright baddies like Team Rocket. Both Marnie as well as Team Yell favor Dark type Pokemon, with the new Galarian form of Zigzagoon being a favorite of Team Yell. While Marnie has a competitive nature, she never is outright rude to the player, making her a more favorable rival to encounter during your journey. Contrasting Dark type trainer Marnie and her helpful attitude is Bede, a pastel trainer with a bad attitude who favors Psychic and Fairy types. While his interior is cold and ruthless, his relationships with Chairman Rose and Gym Leader Opal make him more endearing as the game goes on. Each rival you encounter has a satisfying end to their journey, showing that even if you don’t achieve your dream of becoming Pokemon Master, you can achieve a different dream.

I don’t want to spoil the story for anyone reading this who hasn’t played Pokemon Sword/Shield yet, but I would venture to say that it’s the best story out of any game in recent memory. Of course, it follows the routine of start your journey, earn badges, challenge the champion, become Pokemon Master, but there are many surprises alongside the way. Just when I thought the game was over, a few hours of more content strung itself along before I was able to claim my title of Pokemon Master and beat up Leon’s Charizard.

I’m not sure how other people play the game, but the Pokemon Camp feature of the game really connected me to the Pokemon that I had in my party along the way. It’s similar to the Pokemon Amie and such of yesteryear, but with a few changes. Your Pokemon can actually interact with one another, for starters. My Pokemon would chat with each other, race against each other, and sometimes even fight each other (which I had to break up). You can create curry dishes for them, and they joyfully gobble up your food if you cook it well enough. Seriously, one of my favorite parts of the 125+ hours I’ve put into the game so far was when after cooking curry, a stray Hippopotas came to my camp and wanted to be in my party, alongside a ribbon he received for being a Curry Connoisseur. I gave him competitive stats and an Everstone, and I named him Roux after his love for curry.

The main story itself only took me around 35 hours to complete, and the postgame only took a few more hours, but as I said above, I’ve put 125+ hours into the game thus far. One of the reasons for this is the Wild Area, which is a welcome addition to the game for people who like exploration. After you’re thrown into the Wild Area, you learn after a period of time which areas you’re supposed to be in and which ones you need to get out of as soon as possible. Rather than having a sign saying DON’T GO HERE, you’ll encounter Pokemon impossible to beat. I myself used Pokedolls for the first time ever in a Pokemon game to allow myself to get away from Pokemon who were 20+ levels above me just so that my team wouldn’t black out.

My only critique of the Wild Area is that there are admittedly portions of it that look as though they came out of a Nintendo 64 game, specifically the graphics of the trees in the game. Before a friend got the game, I walked up to one of the berry trees and showed him how they would become see-thru and comprise of green dots where the treetops were supposed to be. We both laughed at how bad it looked. However, as bad as these graphical errors are, they never took away from my enjoyment of the game.

As a competitive player, I like how much simpler it is in the game to make your Pokemon in fighting shape. Instead of every single Pokemon having to be products of Daycare Eugenics, you’re able to use readily available berries to reset your Pokemon’s EVs, give them purchasable vitamins to give them desired EVs, use Bottle Caps to max out IVs, and even use new mechanics found in Mints to change the nature of your Pokemon to something viable. I was able to take the Grookey that I started the game with and make him competitive just using the post-game mechanics available. This also makes it so that you can use the shiny Pokemon that you find, rather than hoping and praying that you get the exact stats you want for one. My original Grookey-turned-Rillaboom, Lucio, is able to compete alongside his daughter, shiny Grookey-turned Rillaboom, Lucia.

I have a love/hate relationship with the online play in Pokemon Sword/Shield though, which could be attributed to how online play works in any Switch game period. I’ve grown to enjoy joining Pokemon Raids with people online, but I hate how you basically have to be actively trading to find any new Raids, especially with how frequently Raids fill up. I’ve got a box filled with baby Grookeys to mystery trade to people while I wait to battle Gigantamax Pokemon and eventually curse to myself while throwing out a Pokeball and failing to capture it. The trade off for the wait rarely pays off.

For my criticism of online play and the graphics of Pokemon Sword/Shield though, there’s so much more to appreciate about the game than that. I don’t know if I’d throw out “best Pokemon game ever,” but I definitely agree that it’s the best Pokemon game since Black 2/White 2. Damn you IGN for having me agree with you.

If any of you reading this happen to be interested in my future presentation of Pokemon info at the 2020 Pop Culture Association National Conference, be sure to watch out for future info. I’ll let y’all know when I’m presenting the closer it is.

#blog #pop culture #video games #personal #pokemon #pokemon sword #pokemon shield #gen 8

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gavillain · 5 years

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Maleficent

I guess I kinda like this one? ;)

Lol, jk, Maleficent (from Sleeping Beauty/Kingdom Hearts) is my favorite fictional character of all time. I love literally everything about her. All of this is on my villains’ list entry on my profile, but I’ll copy and paste it here so I can get my praise for her out there.

So oftentimes when I set out to explain why Maleficent is my favorite villain, I struggle a bit. Usually in villain list entries I just go over the elements to them that I like with a bit of analysis and personal narrative mixed in for good measure, and I'm certainly going to do a bit of that here. However, that's not really the big picture. Maleficent is more than the sum of her parts, more than whatever interesting analysis I could pin on her, more than some childhood story I can relate back to you. She's literally a villain I could go on for a paragraph gushing about how excited I get by the back of her head, I love her so much. She just transcends explanation; she is villainous perfection incarnate. She is the perfect model who all my other favorite villains are in some form or fashion a reaction to. She is fundamental.

Though really, when you get down to it, there's not really some big huge secret to why Maleficent is simply the best. She's just the perfect blending of elements to create a whole that never could have been achieved if anything was handled slightly differently. No other villain is quite that same perfect balance of threatening, regal, powerful, charismatic, entertaining, visually stunning, and intriguing all put into a single package. And because all of these facets to her are there, they create a solid entirety that can only truly be described as a masterpiece.

So let's actually get into some of those parts that make Maleficent the greatest Disney villain of all time and my personal favorite villain period. First there's her name. The word "maleficent" is a Latin derived adjective meaning "doing evil or harm." Her very name describes the evil that she inflicts upon others. Yet, though "maleficent" is an English adjective, it's not one with widespread popular use. However, even to a casual viewer who might not know that "maleficent" is anything other than the character's name, the meaning behind her name still gives the same impression because it phonetically sounds like a blending of the more commonly used words "malevolent" and "magnificent." Her evil and regality both are phonetically ingrained within her very name, yet unlike the ridiculously derivative names that you may see crop up in bad fanfictions or pretentious fantasy novels, it still very much sounds like a name. It rolls off the tongue beautifully, yet it's not complex, and from the moment you hear it spoken, you know she's not someone to be trifled with.

The next big element to Maleficent that warrants discussion is, of course, her magnificent character design. And Disney is of course known for their incredible artistic vision, but, from where I'm standing, Maleficent is one of those figures where that vision is most apparent. Sleeping Beauty on the whole is designed to emulate the style of medieval tapestry, so for Maleficent to blend, she had to become essentially a meeting ground between the demonic religious symbolism apparent in pre-renaissance art as well as a believable human female form. She couldn't be too monstrous or the climax with the dragon wouldn't have the same emotional resonance, and she couldn't be too human or they'd risk her just looking like the Evil Queen again and clashing with the stylized and intentionally different look of the rest of the film. And if you look at the concept art for her, you'll see that it took a while to get to just the right design.

So why is this one of the great Disney villain designs to the point where it's pretty much the gold standard that all of the villains in the 90s were in some way looking to duplicate? Well, first of all, there's those medieval demonic elements that crept in. The horned headdress (yes, it's a hat) is the most obvious detail, clearly meant to invoke the idea of the Devil, later complimented by her vocally invoking all the powers of Hell. From these horns we know she's an inhuman force of evil and sin before she even speaks a line. Her dress has a motif of flames in the sleeves and train, again, invoking the notion of Hell fire, and the collar of the dress is based on bat wings. And not only does all of this character design shorthand her evil, it harmonizes together beautifully thanks to the purple, black, and green color scheme that is applied in just the right way. Not to mention, of course, that the entire design foreshadows her dragon transformation in the climax (put a pin in the dragon for now).

This design is one that honestly never fails to make me gush in awe. It's such an artistic masterpiece that flows so elegantly and powerfully that I by and large credit it's incredible design for getting me to love villains in the first place. When I said earlier that I could gush about the back of her head, I genuinely meant that. A lot of people scoff at character design being used as a metric for liking a character, but in the realm of animated film, character design and animation is job number one. And here's the truth of the matter: Maleficent would still be on a pedestal among Disney villains even if she was just this magnificent character design. But she's not. She's more than just this magnificent, unparalleled design.

When a design as beautiful as Maleficent's, finding a voice that can breathe life into it in a way that harmonizes and accentuates the quality of the design is not an easy task. A poor voice casting could have killed Maleficent right where she stood. Thankfully, Walt personally suggested that they bring back Eleanor Audley, who had previously worked with them on Lady Tremaine. Audley of course blended so well with the animation because she was such a talented actress and because Maleficent's facial expressions were modeled on Audley's own. But Audley in general turned in the greatest performance as a villain that I have ever seen. Her delivery is just melodic, and she brings a great degree of power, control, and arrogance to the role simply through voice. It's absolutely stunning.

Of course, Audley's not working alone on that front. The actual dialogue writing on Maleficent is top tier stuff as well. These two elements working in perfect harmony helps gives Maleficent one of the most subtle yet charismatic personalities in all of Disney. She's stern, powerful, and she inspires fear in all who encounter, yet she's not just some domineering bully. She also has a delicious little playful quality to her, such as when she pretends like she's embarrassed about showing up unwanted and pretending to leave without causing a scene directly before cursing Aurora. She's coy, and she uses that to play with her enemies' emotions. But if you test her, she'll explode in violent storming rage. She's this beautiful blend of powerful regality, playful coyness, and loud wrathfulness – a perfect evil personality.

Her role in the story isn't especially complex. She's a fairytale villain, and she fulfills that role nicely. She's not complex or deep with a tragic backstory; she doesn't need to be. She's a fantasy evil incarnate, and she does it marvelously. Every bit of misfortunate that befalls the characters in Sleeping Beauty is directly attributable to her. She allows her minions to do some of the dirty work, but most of the time she's right there taking action for herself. She curses Aurora, causing King Stefan and Queen Leah to miss out on raising their daughter, and she later kidnaps Prince Phillip and plans to keep him locked away until he's an old man so that when he awakens Aurora, he'll be old and she'll be young. She uses time as a weapon to inflict suffering and misery. For all that she hurls lightning, her modus operandi is almost always to cause internal pain and strife, and I love that quality to her.

A lot of people tend to oversimplify and misrepresent her motivation as her just being upset that she wasn't invited to a birthday party, and, honestly, that's such a blatant oversimplification that it barely deserves to be dignified. Maleficent is a villain entirely motivated by her arrogance and desire for respect. Any act of disrespect to her is an act of war, no matter how insignificant it might seem. She lets no affront to her go unpunished, and that's why she's so terrifying. Though also, what's nice about how her motivations aren't spoon-fed to the audience is that it leaves a lot of room for interpretation. We're left with a lot of questions about why Maleficent cares so much about disrespect, and every possible answer makes her more interesting. She's a perfect example of how effective "less is more" can be in storytelling.

And of course, it all culminates in the best finale ever put into a Disney film: the final battle against the dragon. Actually, there's no dragon anywhere in the original Sleeping Beauty fairytale, but because Sleeping Beauty was striving to be a grand medieval fairytale fantasy epic unlike anything the studio had ever produced, and because having Prince Phillip throw a sword into a human looking Maleficent would be unseemly for a family film, they decided to put the cherry on top with the most recognizable medieval fantasy creature to face against the brave knight in shining armor. And it really is the perfect climax to the story. Prince Phillip, who is wielding the Sword of Truth and Shield of Virtue and fighting on behalf of true love, clashes against Maleficent, who invokes all the powers of Hell to become a Satanic creature motivated by hate and pain. It is the ultimate symbolic battle of good triumphing over evil, and the fact that Maleficent so perfectly incarnates that evil makes it all come together.

So, naturally, it is already very apparent that I greatly admire and enjoy Maleficent and think she's an incredible villain. Yet, the question still remains: why is she the number one spot? Why was she the villain who clicked with me on such a profound level that I can write an over four thousand word essay on how much I like her purely recreationally? The answer is honestly pretty simple: consistency. Maleficent is the one villain who, no matter where I am in my life, she's always to some extent at play.

She was my favorite villain when I was a kid whose movie's tape I wore out rewatching. She was my favorite villain to drag my parents to the Disney store and start my collection of villain merchandise I have to this day. She was my favorite villain at the Disney parks when I'd visit and watch her in the shows. She was my favorite video game villain when I got into Kingdom Hearts as I got older. She was my roleplay character who I played on the side while playing Hades. She was my favorite villain to edit with when doing the villain tournaments. She’s my favorite villain who I write for on a consistent basis with my fanfic. And she's my favorite villain now with all of that looking back and still having the same enthusiasm for her as the first time I watched the movie.

In a kind of bizarre way, Maleficent has been one of the biggest constants in my life. No matter how things have changed, no matter where I've gone or what I've become, she's always been right there, holding my hand through all of it. Other villains and characters, love them though I do, come and go in phases. Maleficent never does. She's always there, and in some way, every single villain who I love has some element that links them back to her. She's that inescapable bedrock to everything fictional that I love and hold dear.

She's the Mistress of All Evil, one of the greatest villains of all time, the single most important fictional character in my life, and my absolute personal favorite. Long may she reign!

#Maleficent #Sleeping Beauty #The Mistress of All Evil #opinion #long post

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ammar-b-shakir-blog · 5 years

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Edison’s Life & Its Inventions

An article about Edison's life and its inventions:

Admiz Melton writes: One day Edison bought all of Faraday's writings and sat down to study the height and slept there. When my eyes opened in the morning, he was sitting and reading. We were both going to a hotel about a mile away for breakfast. What Edison did read was his mind wandering. Somehow he told me, Adams, I have so much work to do, and life is so short that I have to hurry so badly that I have to go to bed. Started running Most of the things we often use in our daily life are ancient and modern inventions of science. Behind all these inventions is the hands of great scientists and inventors who worked hard and achieved a high standard. One such name was Miss Elwid Yason. Edison was probably the greatest inventor in history. He attended school for only six months, but the invention of his bulbs and phonographs changed the lives of millions of people. Edison has patented 1,000 inventions in his life. In reference to Edison's great service to humanity, Henry Ford once suggested that distant life should be called the Edison covenant. Edison praised extraordinary intelligence in these words: a verdict on the idea and a nascent decision on a sweat. He proved this belief by working all the time that he was just at meal time. Edison seemed to find everything strange. He experimented with pharmaceuticals and proposed a program for people's comfort. He was very close to the invention of the Red U. and he used nuclear energy. Predicted about Edison always strives to create things that can work under normal methods without spoiling and easily repair and improve the inventions of other

Early Life:

Edison Milne was born on February 5, 1847 in Ohio. Samuel Edison and Nanny Edison were the seventh child. Edison's grandfather was Judith Holland and mother was from Canada. The family emigrated from Amsterdam to the United States in the 8th century. Seeing the boy's curiosity and passion, his family called him Elva. Elva used to ask them questions constantly. How does the bird escape from the chicken poop? What makes the bird fly? Why does the water extinguish the fire? His school teacher couldn't even answer some of his questions. If no one was able to answer his question, he would try to get the answer from his own experience. One day, Elva learned that bubbles fly because they have gas. So he sent a boy to sidelight. Feed three sauces of safflow Elva was convinced that when the boy's stomach was full of gas he would start flying. But instead, the boy fell sick and lay on the ground, and the world began to feel him spinning.

At the age of seven, Elva moved with her parents to Ho Chi Minh, where her parents started a grain and litter business. Elva entered a public school and hurried the teacher to ask a lot of questions. The teachers used heavy leather keys to kill the children who asked them questions. One day, Elva told the district school inspector Ho Edna's son, Hoyna, is dirty and unable to study. Elva ran home and told her mother. She would go straight to the teacher and tell her in incredible words (Elva is more intelligent than the teacher's entire body in little swallows) and she dropped him off from school. Thus, the regular recognition of Elva Edison lasted only three months. His mother intended to teach him by playing the game, which was unusual at the time. His mother made education a game for him. At first he was surprised at it, but very happy later. He began to learn so fast that his mother could not teach him any more. When Elva was nine years old, her mother introduced her to a book written by Richard Babe Parker, a well-known teacher of the mid-nineteenth century. Elva Edison refused to accept her writings. She repeated each experiment to prove the author wrong. Elva had more than a hundred smells of different chemicals. She had poisoned all the smells to keep her family members away from them. Charles Bachelor, a friend of Elva's, says: "One night I returned, and I was sitting at the dockside, and in front of it was a pile of alchemy and other books, some as high as five feet." He was studying all day and night. In a few weeks, he had looked at all the books and prepared a volume based on his abstracts. He also did many experiments on farms. From the age of nine to twelve, he spent many years in the history of Hume, England, the rise and fall of the Empire, Potter's Discovery of the Senses, and Tuton's Principal of Teacher, Fla. Now it was fall. At the age of twelve, he got a job as a train boy in a grenade trunk train. He used to save newspapers, candy, tea, and peanuts in the train (which runs between Port Huron and Detroit). Was. In his spare time, he experimented with merchandise and chemicals in an empty container. He bought a press and started publishing his own newspaper (the Herald Daily). Due to its unique nature, it began to go hand in hand. It was the first newspaper to be published in a moving train.

Chemical experiments in Elva's train hit him hard. One day, a fire broke out in the foreshore pen, causing a flare in the train's car. At this point, the conductor hit the powerful Elva's ear. Received and threw her out of the box with her chemicals, printing on it and other things. The incident caused Elva to become deaf. However, Elva attributed her deafness to another incident. While she was trying to board a moving vehicle, the conductor pulled her by the ear and brought her to the platform. Edison said a few years later (I He felt something break in his head.) My deafness started from then on and it only increased.

Edison, though not completely deaf, but in the last years he could barely hear the screams. His depression could have ended with a concussion, but he refused to have surgery. Edison did not mind being deaf but thought of an easy way to get one. Edison escaped Barmouth's mouth because of his ear impairment. It happened that Edison bought a large pile of old books in doodler and he took it and left for the house at three o'clock in the night. In fact, a watchman saw him and ordered the thief to be considered. Jason couldn't hear because he was deaf. The guard fired the bullet, but the bullet passed through Edison's ear. Thus the great inventor survived the target. After the train wreck, Elva started to save the newspaper at the stations. One day at the Clemens Railway station, Elva noticed that a freight train was moving towards the station at Mulla Zam's son. Elva rescues the baby in a timely manner. Thanks to the station, Mulazam taught Elva to use a telegraph in return.

.Early Inventions:

1868, In Boston, Edison worked as a telegraphist in Boston. He completed his first invention, which he sought to sell. It was an electronic voting machine that resembled a machine used in legislative assemblies in various states. It recorded the votes of members of the legislature on a large board. Elva Edison took it to Washington and Congress A committee heard it, but the chairman of the committee told him that the machine was not in the Congress's priority: it takes about 5 minutes to attend. Your machine had to make it work. Elva Edison was very angry with this behavior and said that no I will not invent anything that is not needed. And he kept the words of his words. After that time he committed himself to these words in urgent need of the world. Elva Edison emigrated from Boston to New York in 1940. She had nothing and obtained permission to sleep in the futures of an employee of the Goldandecar Company. Elva Edison used her time to understand the stock ticker most of the time. The telegraph was the kind of machine the company used to tell brokers about the price of cocaine. A few days later the stock ticker broke and Edison surprised the manager by fixing it because everyone else had failed to fix it. At that time, the manager offered him $ 5 for a supervisor job. It was great. Edison's busy brain continued his experiments on the stock ticker. It made it so much better that the president of the Goldland Stock Telegraph Company, Jazel Marcel Lefferts, expressed his interest. The leaflets sent Edison a payday and asked what amount he would take to patent his stock. Edison made a decision that he would say $ 5 and accept up to $ 5. He hesitated and said, "Well do Jazel Fur, you offer me .....", Leffer Toss thought for a moment and then said, "Do you accept 3 dollar ? For a moment Edison found it difficult to control himself. He grabbed the desk to keep himself upright and said gently yes! I think it will be fine.

Magic of Menlo Park

23 years ago Edison established his first workshop in Newyark, New Jersey, with money from Lefferts. It was there that he began to manufacture his own stock-ticker. In the year 2, he modified the typewriter's steel components with wood. It also corrected the intonation and ink distribution of words. Edison Improved Typewriter It was possible to write with machine speed much faster than Yes. Edison Menlo came in. That same year, he improved the telephone by adding a car bin transmitter. This was a very important step in making the telephone workable. Before this change people had to smell the telephone very loudly. Edison's inventive phonograph or record player has been named the most innovative invention in the world. In this regard, no one had ever made a practical model of phonograph, and the specimen was brand new and untouched. Edison has always called phonograph his favorite invention. The idea of a phonograph came about when he was trying to find ways to automatically record telegraph messages. He wanted to record messages on a rotating plate on paper pads. That disk is like today's phonograph. He was walking around. Edison learned from his telegraph analyst how the diaphragm is being made or how the discharge is triggered in the disc that reacts to the sound waves. He made an opening or one that had a caffeine attached to the cabin. On his neck, one of the elbows was opened in which the opening had been cut. I went or mine! Six o'clock baby eats. And I have promoted a ton of wood. Edison decided that he could recapture those moles rather than give them something. Then he can make the word abusive by saying that he has two. Edison made a note and ordered his cousin's footman to take a cue from Crowley or make it. Croatia did, however, confused her, but he confused her. He was asked to make something that was neither alchemy nor evil, but it was mica goodness. On the contrary, Edison did not destroy anything that could be completely mica-good. C could not imagine who used Edison to make this device but he took it and built it. When the C-C, the cylinder-shaped machine comes with Z. Edison's wings or you ask what it is. Edison unintentionally said, "Oh, this machine will smell. He wrapped the fort's foil on the cylinder's neck! The baby at six o'clock eats. He smelled this alphabet in the machine's silence. The machine gave Edison's words every chance. The croc's face turned white with movement. Edison, however, remains a diamond.

Electrical light (BULB):

Light bulb (bulb) Didn't I like the style of the new photo shot? Many two-headed people worked on this concept for years. The Russian-born Michael Najnier Paula Jiblo was persuaded by Pir's family to be archery at the time, but Edison wanted younger boys and girls who could be used at home and at home. Coin - in fact, it was the gas of the heart that was the main source of energy. In 1879 AD, Edison brought out a successful soliloquy of LED light. He did just that for the second time to observe all the flame minutes, which could illuminate the roaring light. The employee was sent to Azzone and another to the jungles of Japan. He had tried about three thousand things for a minute. On 19 October 1879 , after several attempts, Car Edison's fibers were finally able to be applied to the filament bulb. The bulb gave great light. By the morning of October 7, the precious bulb was burning. Finally on October 7, at 2:30 pm, Edison decided to raise two latches, which caused the bulb to burn. On the 5th of September Edison's lightning flashed a new invention of light. Edison became known all over the world as the magic of Menlo Park. Edison won the patent for electric light in January. Edison did more than 3 experiments for the invention of the bulb. In 9 AD, Edison moved to New Jersey, the large and modern Libya rotary of the West and Najj. He spent most of his time working on his new inventions. He organized many companies to develop his inventions. By the end of the decade, Edison began producing animated films and films. He made a comedy based on the inventions of George Eastman and others. In 2 AD Edison combined phonographs and cameras to create spoken pictures. The machine showed some flaws and Edison put it aside. Other people later fixed the flaws. At first people thought of animated films as a toy, but Edison saw them with the hope that it would be through education. He predicted that one day it would change other ways of teaching. Some of his later inventions and distortions include storage irons Tissimeters, cement mixers, duct phones and photocopying machines. From his first patented invention (Golden Artificial Plant to Artificial Rubber) to Edison's society Participation continued at the same pace. He died in the West and Najj on 18 October 1931 at the age of 84.

Edison’s Friends:

Edison had no special close friends. He often liked to be with Henry Ford, Harvey Fairestone and John Barrows. But he worked hard for hours, not having much time for friends. Used to be Throughout Edison's life, his work has always been a joy and a friend to him. Edison was a musician. Despite being deaf, he claimed he could hear the speaker of the phonograph with his skull. Edison was not a religious man but he believed in great intelligence. One time he told his friend that although he is known as a great inventor in the world, he cannot create even the simplest of life. Edison's most important work for the world was not only to invent electric light, but also to map the world's first power plant to reach millions of people. Edison received so many awards for his achievements that he had to say that I needed a mole to produce them. In 1956, Edison's laboratory was declared a national heritage. In 1959, her house was also declared a national heritage. The fact is that not only in life but also after death, the honor and fame that came to the part of Edison, which is very fortunate.

#informational

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susanpallmannhitegd-blog · 5 years

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Inquiry 2 - “Crescendo”

Background

I am taking six classes this semester, and five of them deal specifically with art/design. Most of them have to do with the context and ideation behind art, and I really enjoy these because they provoke some interesting ideas. The philosophy class I’m taking, aesthetics, especially likes to deal with art as a way to portray things that you wouldn’t usually be able to - kind of seeing it as an alternative to speech for things that speech or writing fails to evaluate.

Although yes, most of these are about art, I find that there are a lot of parallels to the world of design. The obvious one is that design is visual communication, but I like to take it deeper than that. I’ve always loved putting meaning into my work on a deeper level, even in something as subtle as the colors (in some for-fun works, I made my name the hex color #bada55 just for giggles), and perhaps, for me, that’s where I find the art in design.

Anyway, these classes have prompted a lot of interesting discussions with friends of mine, and one of them led to us trying to paint a color without using that color - instead working off of how that color feels visually. Our pieces relied more on shape and composition, and it turned out to be a really interesting thought experiment and produced some pretty cool abstract works:

So imagine my surprise when the next day our workshop was to create something based on how music made you feel! I included this not to take away from the workshop, but because I think the color exercise was really when my concept for Crescendo began - how to make something visual in a way we’re not used to.

Concept

Conceptually I wanted this project to build on the aforementioned background, but doing that in a class about adventuring didn’t sound very challenging. Usually that means it’s time to seek out a more interesting angle, so I thought: why not make unconventional branding? Usually a brand has to be made with purpose in mind, but in a class about adventuring, surely it’s appropriate to pursue expressive and conceptual branding instead.

The Brand

Crescendo is what I called my made-up concert hall. I thought a music arena might be a good choice because usually they don’t need to advertise themselves too heavily - the focus is on the musicians visiting, because everyone has heard of the venue already. Crescendo is a music theory term meaning to get louder, notated by an angle bracket of varying lengths, so it seemed like an appropriate name and unique marker.

When we did do the “digital mixtape” exercise in class, I found that I reused a lot of visual elements, no matter how the song changed, largely transparency, lines, and circles. What I find interesting (and incidental) is that music notation is largely made up of the same. Most notes are lines and circles, with differing fills to notate length of the note. I decided to use these three design elements to build my branding, and this decision was made before the font was attempted.

Not Quite Futura

So believe it or not, this actually isn’t my first kind-of-a-joke font...

A year or so ago I partially designed a font I nicknamed “Discount Helvetica” for a poster about modern design. Neither font is really intended to be popular or necessarily a real font, but both allow for an in-depth personal study of how type works. At worst, if I ever do decide to make a real font, I’ll know from experience what details to pay attention to. Thanks to the first font being a much more complicated grotesque, I didn’t have a whole lot of difficulty with “Not Quite Futura.” Most of it was just shapes. Despite the name, this was not made by looking at Futura at all. The proportions were based on the serif Ovo, as it was still fairly rounded, but quite readable.

Once I did all of this, however, the transparency created by the shapes to make the letterforms just... wasn’t pretty. To some degree I had to pick and choose which overlaps to keep. The end font hints at how it was made, but it doesn’t give away everything, probably for the best.

Promotional Media

I don’t think it has been much of a secret that I love Josef Müller-Brockmann‘s work, and Swiss modernism in general, but that’s because it makes a lot of sense to me. The way this style portrays music has always resonated with me, so it was definitely a thoughtful decision to build off of that for my own work. Fortunately my color scheme and shapes and use of transparent layers definitely keeps the posters distinct.

It’s important also to consider the context. These posters are something I imagined hanging in a really large frame (much larger than the printed ones I could bring in to class) - the kind of thing you see in malls or subway stops. A viewer should be able to look at these and recognize an artist they love and the style of the concert hall.

While definitely this project didn’t seek to be especially conventional, it is worth noting that this strategy of eye-catching, but stylistically memorable posters is something I’ve seen in the real world before. In Melbourne, Australia, which I’ve spent a little over a month in, many of the train stations have poster campaigns that you get accustomed to. You do not even have to read it to recognize the “Dumb Ways to Die” train safety campaign. You see a cute figure being chewed on by a shark and remember to avoid that yellow line. It seems to function well there, so my choice in using a recognizable style over hitting the viewer in the face with the logo is based somewhat in experience.

The tickets turned out to be one of the most fun parts, which surprised me. There was something really satisfying about holding them in my hand, and they are definitely the kind of thing I would want to keep to remember a concert by. I did get a comment that they look kind of like plane tickets, but I think I will just attribute that to the fact that I’ve been in considerably more planes than concerts. ;)

Taking it Back to the Screens

The great thing about conceptual branding as an idea, though, is that it can truly be applied to anything, including interaction, and that is an area I hope to explore in future adventures without question. To kind of illustrate the possibilities, I did a very brief mockup of an app to keep track of your tickets to Crescendo’s shows, but the point was more how this concept of line, circle, and transparency, can inform interaction elements, even the little things we might not think of.

A really great real-world example of this is the loading icon on Google Home’s setup app, which I will link to as I don’t think I can get the gif on this post. Those colors and shapes are all throughout their branding. They could have left the loading icon as some typical spinning wheel, but instead took the opportunity to make it something personalized that still reminds the user of their identity. That’s the world I tried to step into, and why I think simplifying branding down to shape, opacity, and color has an appeal. You can do a lot more with branding that starts simple than something that is confined to a logo. Probably something to keep in mind for the identity systems class next semester.

In this screen you can kind of see how my branding is influencing the hamburger menu we’re all so used to. Firstly I made the hamburger a little more rounded. There aren’t many squares in any of my brand materials in this project, so I tried to round out the form without losing the idea that it’s a menu. I also had the idea that when clicked on, interactive elements would then gain color and transparency, kind of like how music comes to life when someone touches an instrument.

Looking Back

Did it work? I will admit (and hopefully this doesn’t shoot my grade in the foot here) that this isn’t something I’m most proud of. I think I can do better, but I had one week and I think sometimes the deadline requires choosing a less-than-inspired idea.

However, I don’t think the experience wasn’t valuable, as I learned and thought about a lot along the way. There are aspects of interaction and conceptual unification that I had never considered before that got to be explored. I got to practice with designing a font, and further embed conceptual elements into that. I have really flashy tickets to concerts that don’t exist. Oh, and it was fun? Even if I wasn’t in love with the idea, there were lots of new things to explore along the way as I fleshed it out anyway, and I think that’s really the point.

As for if it is effective or not, I think it’s cool that most of the people I asked who professed to be really into music said the concept resonated with them visually.

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multi-fandom-geek-deal-with-it · 6 years

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Hi, I’m Ginny Weasley and This is my story-Fanfiction

AN: Hey there, I am Ermory nice to meet Y'all. So this story is a story that is originally translated from Italian so I am terribly sorry if grammar or dialogue that comes from the book is wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own either the plot or the characters, the plot is from EmPotter and the characters are from JK Rowling's mind

Link to the original story: https://efpfanfic.net/printsave.php?action=printall&sid=1166371#17

Fanfiction Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12927209/1/I-m-Ginny-Weasley-and-this-is-my-story

Prologue

The frogs croaked in the small green pond, the hens below amusedly cackled here and there creating havoc among the chickens, as the warm summer breeze blew pleasantly, rippling through trees and grass. A red-haired figurine was facing her window sill, absently looking out over the garden at the pond - the same pond in which her elder brothers had tried to drown her if it had not been for his mother's hoarse screams.

Ginny Weasley had just turned eleven: she was a thin, petite girl, her pretty face sprayed with freckles, below her big brown eyes and thick red hair: a flame red that went on orange, which Ginny liked to compare with the sunset.

Although she had received the letter a few days ago, the girl wanted to try herself to control her magic, and, furrowing her brows in contraction, made the petals of flowers on her windowsill open and close like a kind of submarine coral.

If only her mum had seen it!

Her mother would have certainly disintegrated her and since Ginny had received her letter she had become, if possible, even more, paranoid and hysterical. Not to mention the thrashing screams thrown into the kitchen when the girl had waved her Hogwarts letter all over the house, shrieking with happiness.

One thing that had made her crazy was the fact that her older brothers, Fred, George and Ron, had been spending hours making bets to guess which house their sister was going to end up with.

In short, it was bad on their part to reiterate that she would never be a Ravenclaw because she was too stupid, and the girl nearly burst into tears and cursed for that because now she should have to learn that her brothers liked to joke, even if she was not sure that this was really a joke.

Although it was hard to make her parents proud when their six sons had already done everything before her, the little Weasley had confidence in herself and would never let them down.

"Empty beds!" the mother's voice from the courtyard echoed in the room. "You could have crashed ... I was out of anguish ... But what did you care?"

What else had her brothers done?

Although curious to immediately rush down to investigate what they had accomplished this time, she was too angry. Angry with them for the fact that they excluded her yet again, like playing Quidditch.

She dominated her impulse of curiosity, giving way to pride and arrogance dominate, but she could not. After five minutes, she had opened the door impatiently and ran downstairs.

"The sky was overcast, mum"

"Do not talk with your mouth full!"

"But they were starving him to death, mum"

"The same is for you!"

Ginny quickly entered the kitchen, even more, intrigued by the words she had just heard, but stopped short: her eyes were immediately drawn to a boy, a boy who had no red hair of the Weasley, a boy who looked incredibly like... the famous Harry Potter …

She could not believe it.

The mysterious boy turned to the girl and Ginny saw that it was him, she let out a little scream and ran away again.

She made the stairs two at a time, even three at risk of falling and breaking all her teeth, and immediately shut the door to her room hoping not to have attracted too much attention, even if it seemed impossible. The girl noticed that the floorboard outside the door is still bobbing, because she heard the noise against the wooden door.

She tried to focus on the 'Ginevra's Room' name plate to change it in her mind - she hated her entire name of baptism (not to mention the second 'Molly'), but failed.

So, Ron, Fred and George had flown to Harry Potter's house to take him here to the Burrow? Was that why my mother was so angry? Yes, and Ginny should have imagined it. She had heard her brother scoff at the fact that his best friend did not answer the letters, while a certain Hermione Granger did. The reason for the lack of answers to all those letters, Ron attributed to Harry's bad guardians. She had to expect something like that.

However, at the moment, it's needless to say that her little heart was beating at a thousand miles per hour: she had seen the most famous wizard of the world, live!

Not that she had not seen him before, because Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter had met once on the first of September of the previous year, at the King's Cross station before taking the run-up and emerging on the track nine and three quarters.

"Excuse me"

A trembling voice came faintly behind Ginny's shoulders and the little girl turned around: a thin boy, with messy black hair and shining green eyes, looked at her and her family through his round glasses.

Ginny stared at him for a long time, childishly attracted by that boy ... but she did not have the slightest idea that it was Harry Potter. She knew nothing about him but it seemed he had already left a mark in her mind ...

"Hey mum, let's see if you can guess who we just met on the train!" exclaimed Fred excitedly, getting off the train. "You know that black-haired boy who was near us at the station, do you know who he is?"

"Who is it?"

"Harry Potter!" the twins answered in chorus.

Ginny's heart gave a somersault.

Who would have thought that the boy she had long observed was Harry Potter?

"Oh, mum, can I get on the train to see him?" the little girl asked her mother in her most desperately pleading tone, because the boy's eyes had almost stunned her. "Mum, please ..."

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and that poor boy is not a zoo animal!" the mother blurted out and Ginny told herself that this was absolutely a lost case, and that it was probably not worth the trouble.

She thought desperately that maybe he would see her again in passing in the corridors at Hogwarts, when it was also her time to go to school, the following year …

But she was wrong. He would see her again, yes, but at her house for a month!

She turned towards the window and leaned over to see what was going on downstairs, past the kitchen garden that could be seen outside her bedroom: the twins and Ron were teaching Harry Potter how to get rid of the garden gnomes.

She even had the idea to get on the desk for a better view, but then told herself it was a bad idea. If Mum came right in then she could even think of suicide! She would not have thought the girl was looking at Harry Potter, right? Even if she had done nothing but talk about him all summer with her brothers ...

Daydreams of the two falling in love reigned in Ginny's mind indefinitely …

Life with Harry Potter at the Burrow was a paradise for Ginny Weasley, even if the girl did not remember not to making a fool of herself in the boy's presence: she tended to drop everything when he was around and so appeared more clumsy than usual; she got used to going purple and not saying anything, which was not in her nature; otherwise, if she had to say something, it was mostly nonsense.

But the worst moment was when Ginny caught Harry looking at himself in the mirror above the fireplace, and the mirror roared, 'Put your shirt inside your pants, shaman!'. Ginny began to laugh like crazy, much to the irritation of Percy (who was trying to study who knows what) and the impatience of his brothers.

On Wednesday, Mrs. Weasley woke up early to go to Diagon Alley. But at that moment, the group, which also included a certain Hermione Granger and her parents, had split up.

Ginny and her mother, after going to Gringotts with the others, were walking alone into Diagon Alley to buy all the school supplies that she needed - except the books, which they would buy all together at Flourish and Blotts.

"Mum, Madam Malkin's!"

"No, we will not go there," said the mother. "Your uniform will be second-hand. Remember, we've already talked about it!"

"But mom ..."

"Ginny, do not act spoiled! I'm sorry, but this is decided. Here we are!"

She dragged her daughter into a shabby-looking shop that seemed to be standing solely by magic. If the mother had not dragged her there, Ginny would never have noticed that there was a store at all: it didn't have a sign, and inside there were very few lights that made it seem all dark and claustrophobic.

"Hogwarts?" asked a smiling little witch. "I have what you need ... follow me, follow me"

Ginny obeyed and followed her into the back, where she was made to try the ugliest tunics she had ever seen. Even those of Ron (which were also second-hand) were not so ruined! In the end, she had to settle for a grey and little frayed tunic, as well as a pointed hat (as the list said) a pair of gloves similar to those in dragon leather, and a winter coat.

Leaving the shop, Mrs. Weasley noticed her daughter's afflicted face.

"Well, when you grow up I'll buy you a new, shiny black tunic," she said encouragingly, and Ginny smiled as she consulted her list.

"Um ... uniform, textbooks ... accessories yes, then: brass scales"

"We already have it at home"

"Telescope"

"You will use Bill's"

"Set of glass or crystal tubes"

"Charlie had so many ... and we do not even miss the main ingredients for the potions!"

"A cauldron?"

"We have to buy this, the store must be right ... here, around the corner"

They entered a shop crowded by students, which was full of scales, telescopes of mixed sizes (Ginny was immediately fascinated by one that was very large) as well as cauldrons of all kinds: from solid gold to pewter.

Despite the crowd that were there, they got out quickly. Ginny, in the joy of having finally bought something new, bumped into a tall, thin girl with thick, brown hair and big hazel eyes, making the girl's cauldron shatter by her feet.

There was a terrible noise and everyone turned to them: some boys, who also seemed to be of the age of Hogwarts if not of Ginny's age, giggled loudly. Ginny helped the unfortunate girl pick up her cauldron, ignoring the puffs and laughter of the others. Mrs. Weasley shouted reproach at her daughter as the other girl's mother tried telling her that it could happen to anyone.

"Sorry ..." Ginny muttered embarrassedly, red to the root of her flaming hair. "Did you get hurt?"

"Oh, it's nothing!" the girl replied gently.

"Let's go, Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley hissed.

"Demelza, let's go too: this place is too crowded" echoed the girl's mother, much softer than Mrs. Weasley, and the two girls looked at each other.

"Then we'll meet at Hogwarts," said the girl named Demelza, with a gentle smile.

"Yes ... see you!" Ginny greeted her and hurried out of the shop hoping that the crowd will already forget everything.

They did not talk about what had happened in the store, and Ginny only tried to imagine what was going on in the mother's head: having children making more noise than a Centauri herd was exasperating.

They walked for more than ten minutes without saying a word, only throwing occasional glances at each other.

They passed theEeylops Owl Emporium, which sold all kinds of animals, though owls dominated. Ginny's eyes were immediately caught by a white and fluffy cat, but did not dare to breathe: she know that her mother would never buy it. They also went by the pharmacy and then back to the Leaky Cauldron, then Ginny, stopped short and rushed to the window of Quality Quidditch supplies.

"Oh, Quidditch!" blurted her mother with disapproval.

"Look mum, look! The new Nimbus Two thousand One! Mum, look!"

The handle of the racing broom gleamed in the sunlight, and it was the last one still unsold. Ginny, knowing as much as she did about Quidditch and brooms, saw from a glance that it was far ahead of the old Two thousand model.

"Just like your brothers ... come on, let's not waste time with these broomsticks!" Mrs. Weasley said impatiently, but Ginny did not seem wanting to move from the window. "Come on, you can't even ride a broom like that!"

How many things you do not know about me, thought the girl irritably. Her mother didn't know that it was since she was six that she snatched, whenever she could, her brothers' brooms to train for Quidditch: she wanted to be prepared for when, one day, she would present herself to audition for her House at Hogwarts.

Her mother now got mad and Ginny told herself maybe it was time to move.

They continued to the end of the street, where a cramped and dirty shop stood. A sign, with faded golden, said Ollivanders, wands of superior quality from 382 BC.

The two entered and a little bell announced their entry.

The shop was just like itself on the outside and an old man with big light eyes peeked out of the gloom.

"Hello, Mr. Ollivander!" Mrs. Weasley said cheerfully.

"Good morning," he replied softly. "So what do we have today? A Weasley, is it not ?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded vigorously.

"What's your name, miss?"

Ginny stared at him puzzled, then said her name specifying to call her with the diminutive.

"Oh, Ginny ... short for Ginevra ..." Mr. Ollivander pulled out a long measure tape. "So, what's the arm with which you use your wand, Miss Weasley?"

"The right one, sir," she replied.

The wand maker set about taking measurements from the shoulder to Ginny's fingertips, then from the wrist to the elbow, from the shoulder to the dusty floor, from the knee to the armpit and finally took the head circumference while Ginny had her fist in her mouth to stifle the laughs: her mother gave her a look of pure threat.

"Here, that's enough," Ollivander announced. "Miss Weasley, try this: maple and dragon-heartstring, ten inches, very flexible."

Ginny took it, with shaking hands, and waved it.

The disaster was imminent: the shelves burst into the air and Ollivander snatched the wand from her hands.

"Try this"

The girl obeyed but caused the destruction of an oil lamp.

Ginny tried, tried, tried again and finally ...

"Eleven-and-a-half inches, willow and phoenix tail feathers." Ollivander handed her a beautiful black wand and Ginny grabbed it.

She realized that it was the right one when a sudden heat ran through her arm with a pleasant tingling and from the tip of her new wand a trail of red and blue sparks emanated like miniature fireworks. Mrs. Weasley smiled and Ollivander had a satisfied expression on his face, he then said in a croaking voice:

"It's the wand that chooses the wizard"

After paying seven galleons of gold for Ginny's wand, the two hurried through Diagon Alley to reach the others at Flourish and Blottsfor the textbooks: Ginny obviously would have them secondhand, like all the stuff she owned.

They met Fred and George in Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop and Percy's in a crowded, junk-filled shop, and they headed off to the bookstore where they were sure they would find Mr. Weasley in the company of Mr. Granger.

"Oh, that sounds like a fascinating book," Fred mumbled, chuckling and pointing to Percy's new book: Prefects who gained power, A study of Hogwarts prefects and their later careers.

"Stop it," he snapped.

"Oh-ho, very ambitious, boy," George said back.

"Stop that nonsense"

"But Percy!" Ginny intervened, who could not help eavesdropping on their conversation, leaving her mother's hand. "Did you not always say you wanted to be Minister of Magic once Fudge was dead?"

"Ginny, for God's sake!" her brother hissed, looking around in terror. "Shut up too and walk with mum!"

The girl could not understand.

They walked for more than five minutes (Fred, George and Percy argued all the way but that wasn't really new) and reached the bookshop, which was crowded with an unusually long line. The boys could not figure out what that crowd of middle-aged ladies like Mrs. Weasley was doing, but Ginny had guessed it from a big sign, hanging from the windows of the upper floor:

Today, from 12.30 to 2.30

GILDEROY LOCKHART

will sign copies of his autobiography

Magical me.

Mrs. Weasley was now fixing her hair very nervously.

"What's wrong with her?" Fred said, widening his eyes, amused.

Ginny laughed and pointed to the sign.

"Oh, damn it!" Fred moaned, too disgusted to laugh, "If I knew I would have came in ..."

"Guys, here you are, good!" said her mother while Ron, Harry and their friend joined them. "In a minute we'll see ..."

The girl craned her neck: Gilderoy Lockhart emerged from the shelves and sat down gracefully at a table. The wizard had a head of blonde and wavy hair, and wore a turquoise dress bringing out his eyes. He showed a radiant smile, while winking to every witch.

Ginny blinked, thinking he was really beautiful.

The first words of the man were:

"Is it ever possible, but is that Harry Potter?"

Ginny turned to the boy but Lockhart leaned forward, took Harry by the arm, and dragged him until he found the boy with himself in the front row: Harry went as red as Weasley's hair; Lockhart shook his hand; the photographer of the Daily Prophet took countless photos one after the other; and the audience burst into loud applause.

Ginny joined the applause in an excited way and Hermione Granger smiled at her, clapping her hands. Ron gave her a look of profound contempt as Fred and George laughed at Percy, who was livid, covered with dense gray smoke from the cameras.

It seemed that the vision of Harry and Lockhart was perfect.

"Smile, Harry!" the man exclaimed, exposing his very white teeth. "You and I, together, are worthy of the front page. Ladies and gentlemen what an extraordinary moment this is! When young Harry entered Flourish and Blotts this morning to buy my autobiography, which I am now happy to present to him", the crowd applauded again. "He had no idea that he would go away with the entire collection of my works, for free. Ladies and gentlemen, I have the great pleasure and pride of announcing that in September I will assume the position of Defense against the Dark Arts Professor at the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry of Hogwarts! "

Lockhart put a stack of books in the arms of the boy. Harry came out of the crowd, staggering slightly and approaching Ginny, who clutched her cauldron (full of second-hand books that were bought by her mother) in her fingers so hard that her knuckles went white. Harry Potter threw her Lockhart's books into the container, gasping from the effort.

"You take these, I'll buy them ..." he muttered.

"I bet you liked it, did you not, Potter?" Suddenly said a shuffling voice, and Ginny turned: a thin, pale boy with a pointed chin and blond hair that was nearly white turned to Harry mockingly with a perfect grin on his face. "The famous Harry Potter can not even go into a bookstore without making the front page!"

Ginny stared at the boy: how dare he? Now it was not Harry's fault that even a famous writer of works, Gilderoy Lockhart, admired him because he was famous. She noticed that she hated that blond to death and didn't even know why that affirmation gave her so much trouble, so much that ...

"Leave him alone, he did not want all this!" she snapped and the boy turned to her.

"Oh, look Potter ... you got yourself a girlfriend!" he exclaimed and Ginny blushed violently.

Why had she intervened? Yes, the blond's statement had bothered her particularly without a reason and it had been very brave of little Weasley to rebuke him, since it was the first time she went by saying something logical in the presence of Harry Potter... but now why did she have to become an all-one with her red hair?

"Guys, it's crazy inside, let's go out!" said Mr. Weasley struggling through the crowd, with Fred and George on his heels.

"Well, well, well ... Arthur Weasley," said another shuffling voice, and Ginny looked up.

"Lucius" greeted her father in an icy tone.

A man identical to the blond boy was standing behind him and holding a hand on his shoulder with a sneer exactly identical to what his son had: Lucius? Then it was him Lucius Malfoy! But then... the kid with the pointed chin must had been Draco Malfoy, the bitter enemy of her brother Ron!

"Overwork at the Ministry, Arthur? All those inspections ... I hope they pay overtime," said Lucius Malfoy mockingly, and taking the second-hand Transfiguration Practical Guide for Beginners from Ginny's cauldron, then continued. "Of course not, what's the point of dishonoring the wizard name if they do not pay enough?"

"We have a very different idea about what dishonors the wizard name, Malfoy"

"It seems clear to me ... Going around with Muggles ... I thought this family could not fall any further"

Ginny opened her eyes, mortified and horrified, then her cauldron flew in the air: her father had rushed onto the man, hurling him against a shelf while dozens of books fell on their heads.

"Take it, dad!" Fred and George shouted in unison.

"No, Arthur, no!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked.

Ginny, Harry, Draco, Ron, and Hermione all stared at the scene, frozen and speechless as the crowd withdrew: Hagrid was telling others to step aside as he separated the two injured men. Mr. Weasley was cut on his lip and Mr. Malfoy in one eye, still clutching Ginny's Transfiguration book.

He looked at her with malignant contempt and gave it back to her.

"Keep this little girl ... take your book ... it's all your father can give you!"

Ginny, whose eyes were full of tears, thought she had never had a worse day than that.

When they got home, Ginny immediately dived into her bed, flipping through the pages of her second-hand books with curiosity and forgetting what happened at Flourish and Blotts even though she did not really want to read them all like Hermione Granger, whom Ron had often talked about how much of a nerd she was.

She was amusedly went through the images in Thousand Herbs and Magic Mushrooms, then took the Transfiguration one, and something slipped out from inside, landing with a thud on the floor.

Ginny picked up a diary.

It had a shiny, shabby black cover with a date that was fifty years old and the girl wondered if it was worth opening. Her father had told her so many strange stories, like a little book that burned your eyes when you opened it, or there were books like Sonnets of a Sorcerer that caused the unfortunate to speak in verse for a lifetime ... maybe Ginny would have made the end of the old witch who lives in Bath: forced to stay with her freckled nose glued to the pages.

But mum would never have put a diary like that in her cauldron!

Ginny opened it and noticed that on the front page was written 'T.M. Riddle '. She flipped through the pages but realized, with dismay, that there was nothing written. The pages were yellowed and was visibly empty.

So her mom had not bought it! Someone had bought it to the bookstore and in the joy of seeing Gilderoy Lockhart had forgotten it in her cauldron. Yes, it had to be like that.

The girl still flipped through the pages impatiently, as if expecting to see any message appear, even just 'Dear Diary' or "Eleven thirty: Hogwarts library' or maybe a name, a surname and an address- but nothing. So, she took her quill and ink and wrote something on it.

My name is Ginny Weasley.

Ginny's eyes widened: her writing was gradually disappearing, as if the page had been of an absorbing material. She felt the point where her quill had made contact to see what was wrong but quickly withdrew her hand: on the page, there were forming other words she had never written and with a different writing from hers, a firm and neat writing.

Hi, Ginny Weasley. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you get my diary?

Her eyes in fright and surprise, and went almost close to screaming.

How the hell did that journal answer? What was she supposed to do? Should she show it to someone before using it? What was that little diary that looked so harmless, dangerous or bewitched?

She could even hear the screams of her mother inside her head; her father's reproaches; the snorts of her brother Percy who repeated to her that she had been too unwary, that she ought to grow up someday... but she could also hear the applause and the congratulations of the twins for listening to her instinct, without worrying too much about the consequences, like a real Gryffindor.

I found it by mistake in my cauldron in Diagon Alley, she replied. When I went to buy school supplies for Hogwarts.

Oh, Hogwarts! First year?

Yes, it's my first year but I already know a lot of things: I have six brothers older than me.

Are you excited?

Very. I've dreamed of going to Hogwarts since my older brother went there. But I must say that I'm also a little nervous for this first year.

Why should you be?

Well, I have to live up to my parents' expectations: Bill was a head boy; Charlie captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team; Percy is a Prefect; Fred and George are a bit 'combines school disasters but have good grades and everyone loves them; and Ron has a fantastic best friend. Do you understand? In the family, it is expected that I will live up to the others but if I succeed then, nobody will consider it a great thing. Above all, because I am the only girl. I just want to make my parents proud and I will succeed in spite of everything!

Oh, but you're very smart, Ginny Weasley! Tom Riddle commented. We must always have confidence in ourselves, that is how we achieve our goals and goals.

Ginny smiled happily: gullible, idiotic, paranoid ... the diary was absolutely harmless!

What was wrong with a diary on which someone had imposed a spell to make sure that it answered and that, moreover, it gave advice? It could not do any harm, in fact, it would be of great help to let off the pressure and to tell all the things she could not say to anyone but it, which certainty would not have opened his mouth otherwise. It had been fortunate that someone had forgotten it.

Sbe decided not to discuss it with anyone, a wise decision too, because surely Fred and George would have confiscated it: an object so curious certainly would not go unnoticed, especially in the eyes of all her brothers.

"GINNY! LUNCH IS READY!" her mother cried out suddenly and the girl winced.

I have to go, they're calling me for lunch. See you soon! she threw down a few lines and answered her mother.

"COMING!"

But before doing anything, she hid the diary beneath the bed for good: that thing was hers. It was the first time that she possessed something exclusively of her own and she would give it her heart.

So that is the end of the first chapter, nice. Do you like all the hints?

Please do a review but don't be too harsh, English is not my mother language and I still need an editor, I will try to update every week but I have my GCSEs starting in two days, so wish me luck.

Again the link to the original story in Italian is this: ?action=printall&sid=1166371

Have a nice day

~Ermory

Editor: Helena Haansilton

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