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assignmentpandaa · 2 years

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How to Write a Research Paper in APA Format Style?

Each paper should be properly structured in accordance with the guidelines of a certain style manual.

When writing different forms of academic papers, such as case studies, literature reviews, essays, and research reports, students who study social sciences and behavioural sciences (sociology, linguistics, archaeology, anthropology, political science, etc.) are required to utilise the APA format.

This guide will give you important details on how to structure a research paper in accordance with the requirements of the APA 7th edition. In order to avoid plagiarism concerns and maintain the accuracy of your document, you will learn the specifics of the APA academic writing style as well as how to appropriately reference and format your research paper.

APA Research Paper Format

In papers pertaining to psychology and the social sciences, the APA (American Psychological Association) research paper format is frequently utilised. There is a standard format for citing in this citation, which includes endnotes/footnotes, in-text citations, and reference pages. There are general writing requirements for APA citations in academic writings.

On standard-sized paper (8.5" x 11") with 1" margins on all sides, papers should be typed, double-spaced. You ought to select a legible typeface that is easy to read. Times New Roman 12 point should be used, according to APA. Every page should have a header at the top. Insert page numbers flush right to make a page header. Then, flush left, type the title of your document in full capital letters in the header. The page header, which is a condensed form of your essay's title, is limited to 50 characters, including punctuation and white space.

General Requirements for APA Format

The authors must be clear and concise because the APA style is frequently employed in publications regarding scientific fields. It's important to use formal language, and the primary points should be written plainly. Irrelevant details should be avoided by authors. In general, APA style papers should be as brief as possible while still presenting the author's ideas.

According to APA formatting guidelines, papers must be typed on 8.5 by 11-inch standard-sized paper. The paper's text should be double-spaced, and there should be a one-inch margin on all sides. The typeface should be readable, although most often, 12-point Times New Roman is utilised. Unless specifically instructed otherwise by their lecturers, students are expected to abide by these general rules.

For both students and professionals, the 7th edition specifies a distinct APA title page structure. A student paper will include the following information: the title of the paper, the author's name, institution, course name and number, the instructor's name, and the assignment due date. The title should be one or two lines in length, centred, and bold. The title may use both capital and lowercase letters. Writers should avoid using unnecessary words or acronyms in the title and keep it short. The title page should be double-spaced, just like the body of the essay.

The institutional affiliation of the site where the research was done should come after the title in a formal paper. The author's note, which is broken up into many paragraphs, is also included in these articles. The authors' names and ORCID IDs are listed in the opening sentence (or skipped entirely if none of the authors have an ORCID ID). The second paragraph should indicate any author deaths or changes to affiliation, and the third paragraph should include any acknowledgments and disclosures. An author's note is not necessary for student papers.

Student papers are not required to have running headings, while professional papers always have. In the 7th edition of the APA, the term "running head" has been dropped. Running heads are flush left on the page and are limited to 50 characters, including punctuation and spacing. Additionally, the running head is all capital letters. The page number appears flush right in the header of both types of sheets.

An academic paper's table of contents is a crucial component because it gives readers a summary of the entire thing. Although it is not required in APA, adding a table of contents is counselled for longer articles. The table of contents should be double-spaced and in the same font as the body of the paper.

Subheadings are indented by five spaces, and all main headings are flushed to the left. Lower level heads are permitted, but they must be further indented. For easier reading, all headings should be written in title case and separated from their page numbers by dotted lines.

The table of contents should not be longer than two pages and should list all pages, including preliminary and extra ones. One of the main goals of employing APA style is to make the document easy to navigate, which in turn enables readers to concentrate on the paper's content.

A well-organized paper is built on a strong outline. The introduction, the body, and the conclusion are the three main sections of an APA paper. The thesis statement is in the introduction, which also gives background information for the essay. The primary arguments for the thesis are discussed in the body of the essay.

The conclusion summarises the main topics covered in the body and explains how the paper substantiates the thesis. The list of references is presented after the conclusion. An abstract should be included before the introduction in research publications as well. Although not all research papers will adhere to this exact format, it provides a broad outline.

The title page is followed by the abstract. The abstract, though frequently disregarded, is an essential component of any well-written research article. An abstract's main function is to give readers a synopsis of the research article. The abstract should explain what the research paper is about and what the reader can anticipate as it is the first thing the reader sees when reading the research paper.

A single block-formatted paragraph serves as an abstract. Additionally, the abstract is written on the page with the centering "abstract" label. Given that the abstract must contain between 150 and 250 words, each sentence should be as information-dense as possible for the most impact.

An introduction, a body, and a conclusion make up an APA-style paper. There are indented paragraphs in this section of the manuscript.

The paper's title, which is centred at the top of the page, is followed by the introduction. There is no heading in the introduction paragraph. The opening of an APA-style paper is one of the most challenging parts to write, claims Hamilton (n.d.).

The reference page in APA style includes a thorough list with information about the sources that were used throughout the essay. A new page with the heading "References" in the centre and at the top of the page marks the start of this section. The reference's initial line is flat left, and the subsequent lines are indented. The references are double-spaced and listed alphabetically. The titles of books and journals are italicised, and even if the punctuation and capitalization are not conventional, they are nevertheless used in the source.

The references should be formatted in accordance with the most recent APA format requirements. The reference page is crucial since it acknowledges the sources used in the article; if the sources are cited incorrectly or not at all, the research paper's author risks being accused of plagiarising.

How to Use Numbers in APA

In APA, it is standard practise to write out numbers less than 10 in text and leave numbers greater than 10 alone, like in the following example:

25 kilograms

eight individuals

Nevertheless, there are occasional exceptions, such as when a number is used in tables, measures, when illustrating a math equation, or when referencing time and age. When employing a fraction, commencing a statement with a number, or a phrase or word that is frequently used, it is preferable to write the numbers out in text. These rules for utilising numbers are meant to improve comprehension and ensure uniformity overall.

How to Cite a Research Paper in APA

When citing a research article in APA style, there are precise guidelines to adhere to. The specific formats to adhere to are as follows:

Book: Author, A.A.. (Year of Publication). The Title of work. Publisher City, State: Publisher.

Example: Finney, J. (1970). Time and again. New York, NY: Simon and Schuster.

Website: Author, A.A.. (Year, Month, Date of Publication). Article title. Retrieved from URL

Example: Simmons, B. (2015, January 9). The tale of two Flaccos. Retrieved from {link}

Magazine: Author, A.A.. (Year, a month of Publication). Article title. Magazine Title, Volume(Issue), pp.-pp.

Example: Tumulty, K. (2006, April). Should they stay or should they go? Time, 167(15), 3-40.

Newspaper: Author, A.A.. (Year, Month, Date of Publication). Article title. Magazine Title, pp. xx-xx.

Example: Rosenberg, G. (1997, March 31). An electronic discovery proves an effective legal weapon.The New York Times, p. D5.

How to Use References in APA

Reference list and in-text citation are the two parts of an APA citation. Author rules, date rules, title rules, publisher rules, and the "Retrieved from...URL" notation, if the source was accessed online, are the main components of an APA citation format. The author's last name, initials, and comma are listed at the start of the citation.

Multiple writers are separated by commas, and the name of the final author is preceded by an ampersand. The name of the author should be included in square brackets next to their initials if the source contains authors with the same surname and initial.

The date the source was released is written after the authors' names. "n.d." is written in case the date is not present. Depending on what is being mentioned, the source's title may be formatted differently. For instance, appropriate nouns and the first word must be capitalised in research paper titles. The title of the journal is capitalised normally and italicised.

APA Paper Formatting Basics

Double-spacing is required for all text.

Margins should be one inch on all sides.

The body's paragraphs are all indented.

Make sure the page's title is in the centre, followed by your name and the name of your institution.

all text should be in 12-point font.

Each page must have a number in the upper right corner.

The manual advises placing a space after the majority of punctuation marks.

In the upper left corner, a condensed form of the title (the "running head") should appear.

#assignment writing #research paper writing services

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nxrthmizu · 3 years

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kill em’ with kindness

fandom | miraculous ladybug

genre | lila salt, so much salt

summary | marinette takes the high road to a better life.

w.c | 8.1k

author’s note | had this idea for a few days after i wrote victory tastes bitter, which really blew up on ao3 (thanks for all the support <3). always wondered what it would be like if marinette just. played nice. so here she is, being an absolute badass.

author’s note.2 | okay so since i did not write this in one sitting, i get that the story probably doesn’t flow as properly as it should. will edit if i ever find the will to do it.

Marinette was done. They wanted her to be a model student? Fine. They wanted her to stop being mean? Fine. They wanted her to be friends with Lila? Fine.

Luckily for Hawkmoth, no akuma plagued the sky of the previous night, or she would rain hell on him. There was no more tolerance left inside her to spare, and she certainly wouldn’t go out of her way to make some for the manipulative pest problem Paris has had for way too long.

She looked up into the mirror, having exchanged her pigtails for a low ponytail, strands curled to frame her face. Bluebell eyes glistened with a fire that burned brighter than hope— Hope that her ‘friends’ would see sense. Hope that Adrien would be there for her. Hope that the good guy would always get the happy ending. No more being patient, no more being passive, no more putting up with things she didn’t have to.

If Lila Rossi wanted a battle, then fine, a battle she would get. Marinette was lowering her white flag, replacing it with a battle emblem that scorched red, redder than blood and redder than the anger her friends would feel when she was finished. No more peace negotiations. Rossi wanted a fight, Rossi wanted a challenge. Who was Marinette to deny her from what she wanted?

They didn’t know what was coming for them.

The power of makeup was truly one that reigned apex among the world. A few touches of her makeup brush was all it took to erase her dark eyes from existence, give her skin a more radiant glow (She promised that she’d take time to give it a natural glow after she was done being nice), and ease a cherry-pink blush onto her cheeks, making her freckles stand out more in contrast. Marinette Dupain-Cheng meant business, and when she meant business—

“Good morning, Marinette! You look great today!” The head of the student council, a sensible, down-to-Earth blonde by the name of Noelle smiled, speeding up slightly to catch the bluenette on the steps of Francois Dupont. “Love the new look.”

Ah yes. The new look— A royal blue blazer, detailed with golden embroidery of cherry blossoms bursting at the sleeves and the collar, accompanied by a classy-looking silk blouse tapered with a soft, black felt. The pleated black skirt (Made from heavy cloth so that it wouldn’t flap about in the wind) was lined with a beautiful scarlet at all the edges to complete the look. Knee-high black socks trailed all the way into the slight heels that Marinette had added flower adornments on, just so she could tap a little of her own touch on it.

“Thank you,” Responded the bluenette with a smile.

“Woah! Someone looks like they got a good night of rest.” Madeline, the president of the Art Club teased, flocking to the other side of the girl. “That mascara looks sharp enough to kill, girl!”

Sharp enough to kill?

Oh, that wouldn’t be necessary, Marinette mused to herself, sending out thanks to those who had complimented her on her way to class. Nothing sharp was going to be required for the liar’s downfall— No, no. That would just be too messy, and she wouldn’t even think of staining her new outfit. Of course, the ensemble was crafted from her own hands, as stated by the classic MDC that graced the inside of her blazer, the collar of her blouse, and one of the pleats of her skirt. Besides… Lila wasn’t worth getting her hands dirty.

She was going to do things the right way.

The kind way.

“Good morning, everyone.” She greeted, walking into the classroom, garnering their attention with her punctuality. Every set of eyes in the room were attracted to her, like iron fillings to magnets. Some of the gazes were malicious, hateful; Some were doubtful, wary; One was pleading, as if spelling out ‘Please keep taking the high road!’— And then there was Chloe, who was entirely uninterested.

Good, Lila was already present.

“I’d just like to take a minute of your time. Won’t be too long, I promise.” She took a deep breath, ignoring the imploring gaze that dug at her side, courtesy of a blonde that sat in the front row (And no, it wasn’t Chloe she was referring to). “I’d just like to say…”

The class watched with bated breath.

“I’m sorry.”

Alya blinked. So did everyone else in the room. Stunned faces greeted Marinette’s apologetic one, including Lila’s— She didn’t even have to fake her reaction. What on Earth was Marinette trying to pull off? What kind of stunt was this?

“I realise that I’ve not really been the best version of me lately,” She admitted sorrowfully. I haven’t been the best version of me because I was being boycotted and isolated, “It wasn’t fair to put you all through this,” It wasn’t fair that you idiots had to lose all your reputations because of the words of one liar, “And people got hurt as a consequence,” Me. I was the one who got hurt. “I realise that things haven’t been all smooth-sailing in our class lately, so I’d like to apologise to everyone.” I’d like to apologise for not being able to save you from a liar who only sees her own personal gain.

A practiced breath escaped Marinette’s throat as she waited for her cue— The school bell— And set her bag on the teacher’s desk. Good, everything was unfolding right on time. Not quite far away, there was a distinct clack-clack-clack of someone’s heels— An auburn teacher, perhaps? Marinette reached into her backpack and drew out a package she had meticulously wrapped in brown paper and tied in golden ribbon. Sitting passively on top of the package was a small note, decorated in hand-drawn flowers and a hummingbird in the corner.

“Here,” Marinette strode up the steps of the class, stopping right in front of her former seat— Now Lila’s— Internally taking pleasure in the first time she’d seen the Italian’s true expression. “For you, as a token of my apology. I understand if you don’t want to forgive me,” Marinette swallowed painfully, biting her lip, as if she was trying not to cry, “But I just want to make things right.”

Lila blinked.

What the hell was happening?

The silence was broken by a quiet sob, one that did not originate from Marinette. Instead, Mlle. Caline Bustier stood in the doorway of the class, clutching her books and notes for the day’s lesson, wiping away a tear that dropped from her eye. “Oh, Marinette,” The teacher sobbed, “I’m so proud of you.”

“That’s so sweet of you, Marinette.” Rose sniffed, wiping away a few tears of her own that had started dripping during the bluenette’s speech. Juleka patted her girlfriend’s back, trying to calm the emotional blonde before she cried out a tsunami on top of her textbooks, giving Marinette a thumbs up to show her approval.

Alya beamed, seemingly proud of her former best friend, who had (In her opinion) finally started to see sense. “I’m so proud of you, girl!”

(Adrien was too shocked to form any words.)

“Could you… Open it?” Marinette asked hopefully, ignoring the teacher for the favour of the liar who ruined her life. “I… Just want to know if you like it.”

The Italian could do nothing more than grit her teeth when Alya urged her to open it. What kind of trick was Mari-Brat up to? Never mind— She’d just spin it into something stupid and the class would take to it like starved animals. With no other choice, she tore apart the brown paper, discarding the golden ribbon on her desk. The class gasped, oohs and aahs echoing all around as the package unfolded to reveal a pretty, beige-coloured cardigan, hand-stitched with murals of foxes, jumping livelily among berry bushes.

Stitched into the inside of the cardigan in pastel blue were the words ‘Lila Rossi’, done in an exquisite cursive that could no doubt only come from Marinette’s hand.

“I made it for you myself,” Marinette sniffed humbly. “I know you’re a really great model and you’ve probably seen clothes that are much better than this one, but I poured all my feelings into it. I spent every night of last week working on it, and—” She hiccuped rather loudly, instantly covering her mouth with her hand in embarrassment. “I just hope you like it.”

“I…” Lila was at a loss for words. She had an itinerary full of the lies and stories she would spin that day (“Marinette texted me mean things last night,” she would weep tearfully to Alya, sniffing and wiping away tears on Alya’s shirt sleeve, “I just want to be friends but she just keeps… Attacking me!”) but no matter. A smirk danced along the Italian’s lips. “Did you design this yourself?”

Judging by the smirk that Marinette could practically hear in the other girl’s tone, the liar already had a trick up her sleeve. If Marinette had to guess...

Something along the lines of she stole this design from [random designer], who just coincidentally had the time to be Lila’s friend. Or maybe the friend of Lila’s grandmother. Whichever didn’t matter much, because Marinette was prepared.

Marinette crossed the room in mere seconds, returning back to Lila’s seat with a sketchbook that she’d pulled from her bag. “Here!” She chirped, flipping open the page with an exercised movement, not even having to shuffle through the pages to find the correct sketch. “I brought the original sketch, just in case you wanted to see it so you could get a professional to redo it for you.”

Lila opened and closed her mouth like a gaping fish out of water. Beside her, Alya’s eyes sparkled, envy still glowing in her eyes at the sight of the intricate foxes, coloured in hazel, gold, and orange threads.

“Thank you, Marinette.” Lila gritted through her teeth, basically seething at the thought of having to thank the girl in front of her, who was smiling like an innocent sunshine child.

The bluenette then turned her attention to her homeroom teacher. “Sorry for interrupting and taking up class time, Mlle. Bustier.”

“It’s not a problem, Marinette,” Mlle. Bustier wiped at her eyes, slightly embarrassed now that the whole class was watching her cry at the sight of her ‘model student’ correcting her wrongs. “E— Excuse me.” She mumbled, clearing her throat. “Let’s pick off from where we stopped yesterday. Open your textbooks to page 63, please.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The rest of the day went along smoothly. Marinette sat at the back of class, as usual, sighing in boredom as class was derailed off course, whisked off by another one of Lila’s tall tales. Honestly, they were already weeks off schedule— How the hell were they expected to sit for the final exam, at this rate?

She huffed quietly to herself, watching Bustier trying (and failing) to act like she wasn’t interested in Lila’s story. The woman— An actual adult— Fell for Lila’s usual tricks like a fool, taking in every single word in drunken thirst. Did Mlle. Bustier really have nothing better to do than get absorbed in a teenage girl’s wild fantasies (in a way it was like that). At that thought, Marinette sat up straighter in her chair, an idea going off like a lightbulb above her brain.

Was it...?

After further thought, Marinette settled back into her chair, humming thoughtfully as she drummed her fingers against her table quietly. Yes... Yes, perhaps.

Perhaps it was possible.

The rest of the lesson passed in wasted time as the class took a major detour to go on a warped journey through Lila’s lies, and before Bustier knew it, the lunch bell had rung. Students chattered animatedly as everyone got up, Mlle. Bustier’s announcement of ‘please go home and study this chapter by yourselves, everyone’ was pathetically drowned out by the rest of the noise.

Marinette collected her things quickly, needing her exit from the classroom to go off without a hitch, exactly the way she planned it. “I’ve got to go back to my parents’ bakery for lunch,” She said shyly, shrinking into herself as her classmates turned to look at her. “I... Was thinking of bringing some macarons back later. Before I go, though... Lila, is there anything you’re allergic to?”

“What?” The girl being asked snapped back as a reply, the words leaving her mouth too fast for her to register. Before she knew it, the whole class was staring at her, mouths agape. “I... I mean.” Clearing her throat, the liar plastered on a sweet smile. “What was it, Marinette?”

“I wanted to bring some macarons back for everyone.” Shyly, the bluenette repeated her plans. “And... Since I’ve been in class with everyone else here for a while, I know their allergies, but not yours. Is there anything you’re allergic to that could be in baked goods?”

The Italian cursed under her breath— Mari-Brat really wasn’t letting up. The bluenette had made sure to cover any ground that the Italian could use and turn back against her. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m not allergic to anything.”

Brightening visibly, Marinette nodded, shooting the Italian a smile. “I know things between us aren’t going to get better immediately, but I promise to do my best in fixing things! See you guys after lunch.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Lila was getting really, really fed up. For the whole morning, she wasn’t able to come up with any reason to blame Marinette. If things kept going at the rate that they were, the class would be fully convinced that the bluenette was a changed woman, and that couldn’t happen. There was, in the end, a downside to having such a gullible bunch of classmates— Sure, they swayed easily to her side, but that meant that they swayed back to Marinette’s just as easily.

Hissing under her breath, Lila looked up to catch Alya and Nino’s concerned looks.

No.

She was Lila Rossi. She was resourceful. She had Gabriel Agreste behind her back. She was powerful. She was not going to let Mari-Brat halt her plans in their tracks ever again.

“I’m going to go use the bathroom real quick,” She said, excusing herself from the lunch table. Perfect! Now all she had to do was come back in tears, saying that Marinette confronted and mocked her in the bathroom, and the class would be all hers, once again.

Little did she know that Dupain-Cheng was one teensy step ahead.

As soon as Lila rounded the corner of the cafeteria, Marinette appeared, having just had a lovely chat with Rose (And Juleka, although it was Rose who did most of the talking). The two were at the front steps of Francois Dupont, having a lovely couple moment that Marinette hated to interrupt— But she needed to have at least a word with them.

“Rose, Juleka!” Marinette greeted, box of macarons held carefully in her arms, as if it were a box of important jewelry instead of just a box of pastries. “Oh— Rose, is that a new watch? I’ve never seen you wear it before!”

“Yep, it is!” Rose beamed, delighted that someone (Besides Juleka) had finally noticed it. “Isn’t it pretty?” Indeed it was. The watch in question was a pretty, intricate-looking thing done in rose-gold metal, with a pastel pink leather strap holding it down. The background of the watch face was a white background with a thin film of rose-gold metal, cut to resemble a wall of precious rose vines.

“It is!” Agreeing wholeheartedly, Marinette offered her classmate a smile. “Oh by the way, what time is it?”

Rose peered at the watchface, returning the answer with an equally-bright smile. “11.47.”

“Thank you.” Marinette thanked, continuing her way through the school until she reached the cafeteria. Just before she fell into line of sight, though, she hid behind a wall, peering over the corner until she spotted the table she was looking for.

Perfect— Lila just walked away. Marinette thanked the gods for all the luck that she was having— Okay, maybe she thanked one god in particular more than the others. Gently, she patted the secret pocket that was sewn into the lining of her blazer— Tikki, who had magic powers, managed to create a miniature ‘room’ inside the secret pocket, with the pocket itself acting as a portal of sorts to the room. After a few seconds, she felt the pocket tap back, managing a small smile of gratitude for her kwami’s constant love and support.

“Hey, Alya, Nino.” Marinette greeted shyly, box of macarons propped up against her hip. “Where’s... Lila?” She hesitated slightly with her question, acting as if it was a little out-of-place to ask about the Italian girl.

“She went to the bathroom.” Nino provided, mouth still full of unchewed food. This gifted him with a smack from his girlfriend (“Don’t talk with your mouth full!” she scolded,).

“Oh, I see.” I definitely see. I know what she’s going to try and pull later— I have to time this properly. Timing is everything.

Marinette continued to make small talk with the two, whom she had not talked to for a very long time. Much to her surprise, they were very warm and accepting, quite unlike the people who slung slurs and accused her baselessly a few days ago. One morning made all the difference to people who believed anything, she supposed.

All of a sudden, something in her chest buzzed, as if it were a fire alarm, vibrating in warning— She had to go. “It was nice talking to you guys again.” She admitted, having briefly dipped into a pool of what their friendship used to be like. “But I have to go. I promised Kagami I’d meet her for a few minutes before lunch ended.”

Alya’s eyebrows jumped up comically in surprise. “I didn’t know you still talked to her. I thought you two were… Love rivals.”

“So what if we were love rivals?” Marinette shrugged with a simple smile. “Adrien is… As much as it’s odd to admit, he’s just a boy. Neither of us let him get in between us. He’s just a boy, and it’d be stupid for us to not get along just because we like the same boy. It doesn’t bother Kagami that we used to like the same boy, so why should I let it bother me? Besides,” Marinette tilted her head slightly. “It’d be stupid to give up a great friendship just because of a boy.”

With her last words still hanging in the air, Marinette turned tail and left, walking faster than usual. She had little time left— As she neared the wall that would shield her from the view of the cafeteria, she sped up her footsteps, practically half-sprinting just so she could get out of sight before Lila Rossi returned, looking like someone just killed a puppy in front of her very eyes.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong?” Alya jumped to her feet instantly, reaching out to comfort her best friend, who was moments away from having tears stream down her cheeks.

“I… I thought she’d changed.” Lila sniffled, biting her lip to appear as if she was desperately trying not to cry.

Alya frowned. “Who?”

“Marinette.” Lila stated as if it were obvious, faltering for a moment— Why had Alya bothered to ask? Shouldn’t it come pretty obvious? The liar dismissed the thoughts and continued in her performance. “She threatened me in the bathroom. She… She confronted me and mocked me, saying… Saying that all of you… All of you are idiots for believing that she’s changed. She… She said everything was an act to turn you all against me.”

Nino’s jaw dropped so far that it touched the floor. “Uh… Dudette, are you sure it was Marinette?”

“Yes!” Lila spun to look at him so fast that it was a wonder she didn’t break her neck. “Are… Are you doubting me? Oh my god, it’s working. She’s turning you guys against me. I just want to have friends, I don’t get why she hates me so—”

“You’re… Absolutely sure it was Marinette? You saw her face?” Alya repeated her boyfriend’s words, emphasising each and everyone of them as she looked Lila in the eyes.

“Alya, not you too.” Lila sniffled, tears basically dropping out of her eyes like big, fat droplets of salt water. “It was her— I saw her blazer, it had MDC stitched onto it.”

An uncomfortable silence settled in between the girl and her boyfriend, neither quite knowing what to say. “Oh. I… I see.” Alya said at last, turning back to her food. “Well… Lunch is almost over. Let’s… Let’s get back to class.”

“Marinette just threatened me in the bathroom!” Lila puffed up, clearly upset now. “She mocked me! She called you guys stupid for believing her act!”

“Dudette.” Nino shattered the ice-cold silence at their lunch table, swallowing heavily. “Marinette was with us the whole time you were in the bathroom.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The tension inside the room was so thick that Adrien could cut it with his bare hands. God, what had happened? The day had started off so well— Marinette agreed to be friends with Lila, god bless the girl— But as it turned out, one hurdle folded over only to be towered over by a taller one.

“Alya—” Lila began tearfully, her pitiful look attracting the sympathy of those who still didn’t know what was going on.

“You claimed that Marinette threatened you in the bathroom.” Alya interrupted. “While she was with us the whole time in the cafeteria.”

Faltering, the Italian struggled to find a way to squeeze herself out of the tight spot. “M— Maybe it was someone else.” Reluctantly, she backed out one trap into another one.

“You said that you were sure! You said that she was wearing a blazer with MDC stitched on it. Marinette was wearing that blazer during lunch!” The reporter shot back, Nino at her side, trying to extinguish the conflicted fire blazing inside Alya’s heart.

The seeds of doubt had been sewn, and Lila was going to have a tough time weeding them out. “I... I’m sorry!” She burst out into tears, sobbing pitifully in front of the class, most of which were already in attendance. “My lying disease is acting up again. I... I can’t help it. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone!”

“Uh... Is this a bad time to ask if anyone wants macarons?” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, standing at the front of the room. Her royal blue blazer had been shed, and it now hung over her arm, properly folded into half. Earlier, she had asked Rose for the time to make sure that she had a witness in case Lila tried to pull another act— But as it seemed, the Italian was determined to dig her own grave and all the work had been done.

The students of Mlle. Bustier’s class shared looks.

“I’ll... I’ll have one.” Mylene cleared her throat, hoping that it would diffuse the situation.

“Me too.” Kim followed, not missing the way Marinette flinched slightly at his words. Most of the words he had said to her of late had not been nice at all— But he justified that with the fact that she was being a bully to Lila, like Chloe had been to Marinette herself.

“Great!” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, slapping on a strained smile. She passed the box to the front row, where Sabrina and Chloe were, gesturing for them to pass the box along until everyone got their fill.

Internally, Lila seethed, anger burning like a wildfire that tore down every lush sign of life in her path. The girl had never felt that livid in her entire life— Who did Dupain-Cheng think she was, having a change of heart out of nowhere, pretending to play along with those oh-so-innocent eyes of hers?

“I... I think I know why my disease acted up again,” Lila sniffled, loud enough to gather attention again. Unsure glances passed around like an object that no one wanted, carried from hand to hand forcefully as no one wanted to hold onto it for too long. “It... It must’ve been because of... Of the cardigan that Marinette made me! You must’ve known that...” The Italian squinted at the cardigan on her desk, “... Cotton triggers my lying disease!”

The bluenette, still passing around macarons, stopped in her tracks. Inside her mind, Marinette was shaking her head, an amused smile on her cheeks. She had to give Lila credit for that one— She would’ve never anticipated that lie from her nemesis. “That’s terrible!” She sucked in a breath, putting on a dismayed look. “I’m really sorry, Lila! I know it seems like I did this on purpose, but I promise I didn’t! To make it up to you, I’ll make you another one.”

Is she serious right now? Lila scoffed mentally. How long does she plan to keep this going? No matter— She’ll eventually drain herself out and I won’t even have to meddle in this matter.

Marinette sniffled, collecting the cardigan pitifully from Lila’s desk. “But to prevent future incidents, Lila, I just want you to know that this isn’t made of cotton... It’s made from the highest-quality of star silk, which is incredibly difficult to produce and is rather expensive. It’s such a pity... I thought that only the best of materials would be deserving to be used to make an apology present... I guess you can’t wear it. I’ll just make another copy of the cardigan with some normal-range silk.” Sighing, the bluenette pretended to mull in sadness for a few seconds before an idea struck her. “Alya! You aren’t allergic to star silk, right?”

The flow of conversation redirected suddenly, with the reporter snapping to attention and nodding eagerly as she realised what was about to happen.

“Then... Since I’ve spent so long on this, I don’t want it to go to waste... Why don’t you have it, instead?” Offered Marinette with a sweet, shy smile on her face.

Lila, still caught up in shock by the reveal of the material— Was then slammed with a wall of flaming anger as Alya squealed, coddling the soft, fluffy material that made the cardigan the exquisite product it was.

“Marinette’s right,” Adrien chipped in with his own two cents, “Father can rarely get his hands on that material— It costs a fortune, and if hand-made... It takes forever.”

“Oh, I wove the silk by myself,” Marinette added shyly after Adrien’s contribution, “So I apologise if it’s not up to the quality of industry-level star silk.”

The reporter gushed, still cooing and running her hands over the gorgeous threads of fabric that made up the cloud-like base of the cardigan, eyes sparkling and the details of the embroidery.

Marinette smiled, returning to her seat without a fuss. The rest of the class continued to pass the pastries around, the perfect description of ‘ignorance is bliss’ as they pretended as if they couldn’t see the way Lila was shaking in anger. Alya, on the other hand, could see nothing but the garment in her hands, her ‘best friend’ having become invisible for the time being.

Just as well that it turned out this way, Marinette hummed, twirling her pen in hand, Let that be my departing gift to Rena Rouge.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Tomorrow arrived like clockwork, never late and always on time. The crowd of students clamouring by the front of Francois Dupont hushed to silence as they parted for two dark-haired women, both of which were giving off waves of confidence. Simple conversation flowed between the two, who were perfect examples of elegance and grace, their traditional-inspired attire complementing the royal-like aura they had.

“This dress is really lovely, Marinette,” Kagami smiled gently, admiring the way the fabric flowed around her. The designer had gifted her friend with a maroon-coloured hanfu-inspired dress, complete with hand-sewn embroidery of a golden dragon curled around Kagami’s waist and neck. The dress was completed with a pleated skirt that went all the way to the heels. At first, the fencer was reluctant about the skirt due to the limited maneuverability, but then Marinette revealed that the skirt was very simple to take off as it was just tied around the waist.

“You look gorgeous in it. It suits you.” Marinette replied, dressed in a similar looking dress. Her hanfu-inspired dress was light pink in colour, with silver threads depicting cranes flying about freely. The pleated skirt was grey in colour, lined with a soft circle of white.

Kagami blushed slightly. “Thank you.” Briefly, the Japanese girl wondered why on Earth Marinette would go and embroider a dragon onto her dress— Was it purely a coincidence, or...?

“I’m really glad you decided to transfer here,” Marinette smiled softly, her dark blue bangs framing her face as the rest of it was gathered into a braid that Kagami had helped weave. “It’s going to be nice! I’ll get to see you a lot more often.”

“We’re in different classes, though.” Frowning, Kagami wondered if she should request a change of homeroom.

“For now.” The designer winked playfully. “Oh, I have to get to class. See you during lunch?”

Without waiting for a reply, the blue-eyed girl moved away gracefully, leaving Kagami in confusion.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Good morning,” Marinette greeted gracefully, sweeping into the classroom with her bag over her shoulder and a package in her hands. This package was clearly not as exquisitely-wrapped as the one from the day before, as it was just brown paper and some rough string.

Alya brightened at the sight of her friend, shrinking away slightly whenever Lila tried to say anything. Sure, the reporter did shake off the initial reaction and respond to whatever her ‘best friend’ said, but the damage had been done.

“Here’s your new cardigan. It’s made from the same material as your shirt,” Marinette smiled warmly, placing the package on Lila’s table. “It’s a little different from the one I brought yesterday, but I still poured in all my emotions when I made it, so I hope you’ll accept it.”

Through a gritted smile, the Italian thanked the designer, clenching her fists under the table. That was the second time in two days she had to thank Mari-brat! She swore that if she had to do it again a third time, she was going to slap someone.

“Oh, Marinette!” Alya called out excitedly, wearing the cardigan that was originally supposed to be Lila’s. “This cardigan is so soft! It’s really amazing to wear! As expected of you, girl!”

The bluenette stared back at the reporter, wavering for a bit. She had a feeling that Alya wanted something from her...

“So... I was wondering...” The reporter’s expression turned sheepish, with Marinette’s internal thought-train going ah, there it comes— “Could you remove this and put my name instead?” Alya picked up the corner of the cardigan, pointing to the inside of the garment, where ‘Lila Rossi’ was embroidered on.

“Ah...” Marinette didn’t even have to fake her nervousness. We already agreed on this, She told herself, No more doing free stuff for people. No more. “Sorry, Alya. My parents need a lot of help in the bakery recently,.. You know how it is! Family always comes first. I’ve already taken out a lot of time to make the cardigan for Lila... And I promised Kagami I’d go out with her this weekend. I’m afraid I don’t have time...”

There was no missing the way Alya’s face fell instantly. “Couldn’t you put off Kagami for me? Aren’t we best friends?”

“I thought Lila was your best friend,” Feigning an expression of innocence, Marinette tilted her head slightly. “You shouldn’t go around saying things like that, Alya. You might hurt Lila’s feelings. Besides, a promise is a promise. I wouldn’t want to hurt Kagami’s feelings either. Not to mention— I gave you that cardigan for free. That was two weeks’ worth of hard work. I’m afraid I don’t have the ability to take time out to alter it for free either. If you really want to get it done, you could ask an external tailor to do it for you. I know a few who can do really good embroidery.”

Alya faltered. “But... We used to be best friends...”

Snorting mentally, Marinette continued to hold her calm composure. “Like I said, you really shouldn’t say that, Alya. Lila might get upset and we don’t want to hurt her feelings— Right, Adrien?”

The blonde jumped when the conversation turned to him out of nowhere. All of a sudden, every eye in the classroom was fixed on him. “R— Right, of course.” He said, forcing out each word.

Satisfied, Marinette nodded, still wearing her ever-so-kind smile. “Exactly.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Hey, why don’t we all go out and have a picnic outside during lunch?” Alya suggested loudly, jumping up as soon as the lunch bell rang. “Marinette, you can come along too!” Something inside the reporter’s chest was stirring, and with the events of the past few days, Alya felt like she just had to quench that unsettling feeling— And the first step to that was to mend things with Marinette, even though it was the bluenette’s fault for always having been biased to Lila. Alya smiled, proud of herself. She would be the bigger person, she would forgive Marinette, she would integrate the designer back into the class again.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Marinette replied just as quickly, “We don’t know what Lila might be allergic to— She could easily trigger a reaction if we go out, especially since it’s spring.”

A collective choir of groans rounded the class.

“Well, I’m going to go back to the hotel to have a first-class meal,” Chloe turned her nose up at her classmates. “... Dupain-Cheng, would you like to come?”

Shock painted the faces of the whole classroom. Did Chloe just... Ask Marinette something... Politely?

“I’d love to take that offer, Chloe.” Responded the bluenette, graceful and flawless as ever. “Perhaps tomorrow?”

“Suit yourself. They’re serving lobster today.” Chloe huffed. “If you’re really that busy, then fine. We can discuss...” The Mayor’s daughter trailed off as she blushed.

The bluenette giggled knowingly. “You’d like to commission a dress from me, right?”

“... No.”

“...”

“... Maybe.”

“Alright.” Marinette nodded. “Then maybe it’ll be more convenient if I head over to the hotel after school. I’ll need to take your measurements and we can discuss the prices after.”

“Whatever.” Chloe waved her away haughtily, a poor effort to cover up her embarrassment. “Sabrina. Let’s go.”

“Chloe?” Alya guffawed. “Why are you commissioning something from Marinette?”

Rolling her eyes as if Alya had just asked the stupidest question ever, Chloe answered plainly. “Because she’s one of the up-and-rising designers in the industry? Have you seen what Dupain-Cheng is wearing today? Celebrities are already fighting for spots in her commission list. Even my mother and Gabriel Agreste acknowledge her talent. I’m not dumb, Cesaire. I can recognise a future fashion queen when I see one.”

Wow, Marinette breathed, looking at the stunned faces around the room, Chloe sure knows how to create an impression.

“W— Well.” Stuttered the reporter after Chloe made her big exit. “Then... What about going to the bakery for lunch?”

“Didn’t Lila say she saw a rat in the bakery the last time she visited it?” Marinette pointed out. “The health officer checked the surveillance and the claim was dismissed, of course, because my parents make sure the bakery is as hygienic as possible— But I’m sure Lila is traumatised from that incident. I wouldn’t want to force her to come along to the bakery— And we wouldn’t want to leave her out either, right?”

This elicited another round of groans.

Oh, I am enjoying myself way too much, Marinette chuckled mentally.

“Then— Then...” Alya struggled visibly before she was put out of her misery.

“It’s fine, Alya.” The designer reassured her. “I wouldn’t want to bother Lila. I’m sure she’s still upset at me. You guys go ahead. I have to go back to the bakery to help my parents out. See you guys after!”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Slam!

Lila fumed, hand still pressed on her locker door. What. The. Hell. Was Mari-brat trying to do? She didn’t miss the way some of her classmates sent her unsatisfactory looks after that pre-lunch stunt that Marinette had pulled.

And what was the thing about high-and-mighty Chloe commissioning from Marinette?

Sure, Lila would admit that the cardigan that the designer made was indeed gorgeous, and the fabric was smooth and velvety, a quality unlike any of the clothing that Lila had ever had the privilege to touch— But surely a lowly brat like Dupain-Cheng couldn’t be that popular... Right?

Dammit, hissed the Italian girl, Maybe I should’ve tried being friends with Mari-brat instead of Cesaire.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Is that... Marinette and Kagami?” Nino gaped, prompting Alya to turn around. It was true— Walking up the steps of Francois Dupont together were the two blue-haired girls, a gentle smile dancing on Kagami’s lips as Marinette talked animatedly, her hands waving around quickly to further elaborate her point.

Students lounging around the entrance for lunch couldn’t tear their eyes off the two and their matching dresses. Sure, the two girls had walked into school the same way that morning— But now that the afternoon sun was high up in the sky, the golden and silver embroidery was glinting luminously, revealing the true caliber of Marinette’s craft.

“But... They’re rivals.” Stuttered Alya. She just couldn’t understand... Weren’t they supposed to hate each other?

“They both like Adrien but they can still get along,” Nino remarked thoughtfully, taking a bite from his sandwich. “So Marinette wasn’t lying about going to meet Kagami yesterday.”

Alya was silent.

“Alya? What’s wrong?” Worried, Nino put a hand around his girlfriend’s shoulder, care and concern shining through his honest eyes.

“If... If Marinette doesn’t get jealous or biased over someone who also likes Adrien...” Alya started quietly, eyes still fixed on the two girls, “Then why was she so against Lila?”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Mlle. Bustier?” The teacher looked up at the voice of her favourite student. Fondly, she smiled. Marinette had finally seen the light and changed her ways, becoming the helpful, generous, kind Marinette that served as a great example for her peers. “May I make an announcement before class ends?”

“Of course, dear.” Mlle. Bustier gave permission instantly— Marinette was taking up the reins of leadership again! The teacher couldn’t help but do a happy dance internally.

“I have an announcement to make, so if everyone could listen, I’d be really thankful.” Marinette started, her clear blue eyes meeting those of her classmates.

She took a deep breath. This is it. I’ve done what I needed to do, now it’s time to finish the job.

“These past two days... Have been great,” Marinette started wistfully. “I really missed hanging around everyone, just like we did before,” Before you all turned your backs on me and stabbed me when I wasn’t looking, “But I can’t deny— And neither can you— That the things that have happened... They had a really deep impact. And I’ve realised that I can’t just ignore that damage that has been done.” The damage that has been done to me. “So, for the better of everyone— I’ve decided that I... Will transfer classes.”

It was as if an explosion had gone off in Mlle. Bustier’s classroom.

“Girl! You can’t do that!” Alya exclaimed in dismay, “We can fix things! Everything has been going well these few days, haven’t they?”

“Dudette! Honestly, we forgive you.” Nino sighed, “Things just aren’t the same if you’re not here anymore.”

Adrien didn’t say a word, but the imploring gaze he wore said enough. Please don’t leave me here alone. We promised we’d fight together, right? As long as both of us know...

Marinette held her hand up to silence them, and the classroom, just as swiftly, became the deadly silence that followed post-disaster. “I understand. But once again, this is for the better,” — Of my mental health, “I’ve talked to Mlle. Mendeliev, and she’s agreed to take me in. I believe that once the changes have taken place, we can all grow more freely without restrictions.”

In the corner, Mlle. Bustier was tearing up and dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve.

“Mlle. Bustier,” Marinette turned to her teacher, no malice in her eyes. “I’ll be under Mlle. Mendeliev’s care now.”

“Marinette...” The teacher sobbed quietly, with Chloe shooting her a look of disgust from the front row.

“It’s not going to be easy for any of us,” Marinette turned back to the class, “But with time, I’m sure we will all prosper. Especially since you will now be under the care of our one and only Lila Rossi.”

Adrien looked like someone had just killed a puppy in front of him.

“Since I am the current class president, I thought I’d pass on the duties onto the most capable person in our class.” Marinette explained warmly, never moving her gaze away from the bewildered Lila. “Lila has the most connections in our class out of all of us, and she’s met so many CEOs and entrepreneurs that she must know a lot about organising and planning. I’m sure you can do it, Lila, but...” She paused. “You can handle it, right?”

“Y— Yeah. Of course.” Lila stuttered.

“You promised the class that you’d get BTS to perform for the year-end fundraiser since you were supposed to be in an arranged marriage with their youngest member, Jungkook.” Marinette continued, God I am enjoying myself too much honestly, but I ain’t going to stop now, “And you said you could convince your godfather, Bruce Wayne, to allow the class to go to Wayne Enterprises for this year’s class trip.”

“She said she could convince Tony Hawk to give me an internship, too!” Alix chipped in.

“And that she’d bring me along the next time Prince Ali asks for her help for a charity cause!” Rose smiled.

“She said she’d introduce me to the CEO of Graham Films!” Nino’s eyes shone at the idea.

The class continued to talk all over one another until Marinette silenced them once more. “Now, now. Let’s not overwhelm Lila. We wouldn’t want her to be overworked or to feel like the expectations are set too high, right?”

The class agreed, nodding along.

Marinette made eye contact with Lila, offering her a sweet smile as she did so. Lila, on the other hand, had no taste for such politeness. Instead, she straight-out glared at the former class president.

This is your problem now.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Marinette! I was hoping to catch you before you went home,” Alya panted, having been able to find the bluenette in the locker room before the designer slipped out of her reach. “You... You’re really serious about leaving?”

“Yeah.” Smiled Marinette, organising her textbooks into her bag, dusting down her skirt. Noticing Alya’s crestfallen expression, she took the initiative to continue the conversation. “Is there anything else, Alya?”

“Did you... Did you really hate Lila because she liked Adrien, too?” The reporter asked somewhat timidly.

Marinette giggled. Normally, when the girl giggled, you could hear a gentle tinkling of wind chimes— But at that moment, Alya heard the freezing winds on Mount Everest instead. “Don’t be silly, Alya. All this over a boy? Besides, I’m over him.”

“Then...” Alya swallowed difficulty. “Lila... Really was lying this whole time?”

The gaze that swept across the reporter was stone cold, and it made Alya feel as if she was dangling over a valley of jagged rocks. “What do you think, Alya?” Even so, the bluenette maintained a sweet smile.

“She was. She was lying the whole time.” Alya suddenly felt as if she had a shortness of air. “This whole time—”

“Oh, good for you. You finally learned how to see further than one feet in front of you.” Marinette hummed. “I’m proud of you, really. But I’m afraid that I don’t have the time to listen to you slowly come to conclusions after I’ve tried making you see sense for the past half a year. I tried to stop you from ruining your futures, but I guess determination was always one of your good traits.”

Alya slipped to the floor, having lost the feeling in her legs. She placed one hand against the lockers for support as she shook, weakly looking up at the girl who she was once so proud to call her ‘best friend’.

“Marinette?” Kagami’s voice rang through the room, indicating that the girl was waiting at the doorway. “You said you were heading to Bourgeois’s hotel after school— Would you like a ride?”

“That’d be nice, Kagami. A moment.” The designer looked down at her friend and smiled, albeit a little sadly this time— And then she lowered her voice.

“Determination was always one of your good traits.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Marinette,” Adrien perked up at the sight of the bluenette leaving the school doors— Side by side with Kagami, who looked ready to draw a sword and start a duel then and there.

“This’ll just take a minute, ‘Gami.” Marinette reassured, gently patting her friend’s arm. “Why don’t you get in the car first? It looks like it’s going to rain.”

Reluctantly, Kagami nodded. “Alright.” Warily, the fencer stepped down the stairs and into the car— But even as she sat in the vehicle, she watched over her fellow bluenette like a hawk, ready to jump out and challenge the blonde if the situation called for it.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say. Luckily for him, the designer decided to start the conversation.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” Marinette smiled softly. A few months ago, when she looked at Adrien, she would see the kind, generous, pure-hearted boy with the finest golden hair and the brightest green eyes. Now? All she saw was a spineless, sheltered, passive child that was afraid of confrontations.

“For what?” Adrien looked at Marinette, and no longer did he see the cute, pigtail-adorning girl that would blush fiercely everytime he tried to talk to her. Instead, he saw a beautiful, young woman, a rock that had pulled through all the odds to become a vibrant, iridescent diamond.

Marinette was glowing with confidence, her presence diffusing into the air around her and triggering eyes to look up every time she walked by. There was something about the way she held herself that just made the woman demand awe and respect from those that crossed her path. The old ‘Clumsinette’ had been shed like an old snake skin to reveal a treasure, a better version of the bluenette that had always been waiting for her time to come.

Bluebell eyes met green ones just as rain began to patter down onto the streets of Paris. Marinette glanced up slightly, not at all bothered as she smoothly retrieved an umbrella from her bag, holding it out for the blonde to take. A flush of deja vu burst through Adrien’s veins and through his skin as he took it with a mumbled thanks, eyes blown wide as Marinette let loose her hair from her ponytail, pulling her blazer over her head to avoid getting her head wet.

Adrien could only gape as Marinette uttered familiar words back to him, a knowing smile dancing across her lips as she ran off into the rain as if an invisible weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The bluenette looked lighter, brighter, ready to take flight and soar towards the success that her crops of hard work had finally started to bear. Before the blonde model knew it, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had slipped out of his grip, already spreading her multi-coloured wings to land among the stars.

“Thank you for telling me to take the high road.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

this was both satisfying and tiring to write...

#ml salt #ml saltfic #saltfic #lila salt #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien salt #miraculous ladybug #alya salt #[ris writes]—✧

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lastsonlost · 4 years

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The star begins a libel trial against a U.K. tabloid that called him a "wife beater." No matter the verdict, he's destined to lose.

If there's a single word to describe Johnny Depp's status at the moment, I'd go with zugzwang, which chess aficionados know to be the moment when a player basically gets cornered into making a move that will inevitably lead to an even more inferior position. On Tuesday, the star actor appeared in a London courtroom to take on the U.K. publisher of The Sun for characterizing him as a "wife beater" in the print edition of an April 27, 2018, online article. Unfortunately for Depp, it seems to be a defamation trial that's a no-win situation.

Depp appears to think that success is achievable at a proceeding that will last several weeks and feature all sorts of inside details about his life plus celebrity friends including Paul Bettany and Winona Ryder. Depp is claiming that during his tumultuous marriage to Amber Heard between 2015 through 2017, he didn't actually throw a phone at her, slap her across the face, and grab her by the hair, as she once testified in a deposition during one of the nastiest divorces in Hollywood history. Perhaps Depp will play audio tapes in an effort to claim his ex-wife was the abusive one in this stormy relationship. It won't matter because there's really no reversing the damage that Depp has incurred these past few years.

That should have become obvious on June 26 when it was revealed that Disney was working on a new Pirates of the Caribbean, this time featuring a female-fronted cast led by Margot Robbie. In other words, at the exact moment when a U.K. judge was deciding on whether to actually proceed with Depp's libel suit after the actor's attorneys breached a court order by failing to turn over a series of text messages concerning the procurement of drugs, Depp may have lost his most lucrative role. A source tells The Hollywood Reporter that Jerry Bruckheimer would like to at least nod to the popularity of the Captain Jack Sparrow character in the coming film if the controversies die down, but at this point, Disney is resistant. Depp is too controversial. (Disney didn’t respond for comment.)

So Depp will pursue a favorable verdict and a nominal damages award from a trial that's playing out under English defamation standards — in other words, where the burden of truth is on the news publisher to establish rather than Depp. Meanwhile, over the next few weeks, amid an international pandemic, Depp will surely incur additional reputational harm from these prying court proceedings, the impetus for which was a column questioning J.K. Rowling's defense of Depp being cast in the adaptation of her book Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. It's hard to sue one's way out of controversy.

Given this situation, it's no wonder Hollywood insiders are increasingly puzzled over Depp's moves. I spoke to several industry attorneys and publicists, all of whom offered some variation on the theme that the public would likely have forgotten Depp's years-old troubles but for court actions that keep reminding everyone.

“One of the things you’re always balancing is, how do you respond to accusation? Do you add more fuel to the fire or let it dissipate?” asks Howard Bragman, a longtime crisis manager in the entertainment industry.

Says Neville Johnson, an attorney who has previously brought suits against tabloids but questions the star plaintiff's wisdom here: “Depp doesn’t need the money [from any damages award] and it is not going to enhance his reputation.”

***

How did Depp find himself at the point of zugzwang? More and more, one has got to question Depp's reliance on attorney Adam Waldman. Depp has many attorneys, and the others seem to be the ones actually doing the hard work in court, but Waldman has become Depp's mouthpiece and also looks to be the lawyer who has emerged as the star's svengali of sorts.

Who is Waldman?

A search on Google (where he referred this reporter instead of agreeing to an interview) yields some clues, though hardly anything definitive. Unlike most attorneys, Waldman maintains no bio page these days. A few years back, Waldman's D.C.-based Endeavor Group did have a working website, but no longer. A trip to the Internet Archive reveals that Waldman once took credit for overseeing "all corporate aspects" of the landmark antitrust trial United States v. Microsoft, being the "principal architect of several ground-breaking initiatives" including the Center for Global Development, and even predicting the 2009 financial crisis with a "seminal law review article" authored all the way back in 1993. That would be when he was a student at American University, which did indeed confirm his graduation in 1995.

Waldman, according to reputable press reports, seems to have been involved in various dealings with the Kremlin, Russian oligarch Oleg Deripaska, and Wikileaks founder Julian Assange. He had a lucrative ($40,000 per month) lobbying contract with Deripaska, was registered as an agent for the Russian government, visited Assange nine times in one year at the Ecuadorian embassy in London, apparently in connection with efforts to strike a deal with the DOJ, and more. His associations have become fodder for intrigue among reporters and lawmakers even if there’s a lack of public evidence of anything more than Waldman having a talent for landing recurring, if minor, roles in real-life Russian political dramas.

I'd say that Waldman's foray on the periphery of the industry hardly matters, except that it appears Depp is publicly burning bridges with the sort of abandon that one hardly ever sees among big Hollywood stars. Depp's recent legal pursuits include battling his former money managers over the disposition of hundreds of millions of dollars; splitting with longtime transactional attorney Jake Bloom; and, of course, continuing to face off against Heard again and again and again, including in a separate defamation suit against her over an op-ed she wrote for The Washington Post. That latter case is currently scheduled for trial in Virginia in January 2021.

That's a lot of legal work, and Waldman appears to have taken on a central role. As Stephen Rodrick put it in an often-cited Rolling Stone article, "Waldman seems to have convinced Depp that they are freedom fighters taking on the Hollywood machine rather than scavengers squabbling over the scraps of a fortune squandered."

Waldman is also conducting a public experiment on social media. In a nutshell, do tactics of preaching to a choir of a small number of Twitter accounts achieve anything outside of politics? Most attorneys don't pick fights with the media during a big case, particularly in the weeks before trial. Not Waldman. For weeks, he's been goading reporters at The New York Times who apparently are investigating him, and he's been whipping his followers into a frenzy with attacks on Rodrick, Variety ("Saudi Arabia's Variety"), THR ("too much corruption") and other journalists and news publications. (That said, Waldman may not be above going to his own favored media outlets. Depp's attorneys have been accused in court papers of leaking to outlets like The Blast, which seems to be to Depp what Fox News is to Trump.) He's also litigating on Twitter, presenting evidence procured from Depp's cases, and overall, exhibiting highly unusual behavior for a working attorney.

To what end? That one is very hard to answer. But if anyone in Hollywood is ready to take on "fake news," the ticket of Depp-Waldman should be deemed real contenders.

***

In the era of #MeToo, allegations of misconduct get attention — and deservedly so — but some newsrooms have traditionally made a distinction between behavior in the workplace and domestic conduct, with the latter being perceived as tabloid fodder. This time, though, an ugly divorce proceeding has transformed into something quite more.

Alas, the trial of John Christopher Depp II v. News Group Newspapers Ltd has now begun.

On July 7, Depp himself took the witness stand and accused Heard of being sociopathic, a narcissist, and completely emotionally dishonest. He insisted her "sick" claims of abuse are untrue. And in opening statements, his attorney David Sherborne said, "This is not a case about money. It is about vindication."

Depp, in fighting a battle against an unflattering headline, is merely going to draw more attention to The Sun's accusation that he's a "wife beater," especially once Heard gets on the witness stand. At the end of it all, no matter the verdict, this trial will likely do nothing to tamp down the controversies that have tarnished his career. He's elevated a tabloid columnist's random musing into something that's going to be covered by serious news outlets for weeks, months, years on end.

For that, Johnny Depp should regain his senses and fire his lawyers.

Vindication ain't possible. The damage is done. That's the only thing a successful libel claim shows.

__________

What kind of Weinstein bullshit is this? So what, If he gives up on getting Justice for what hes been through Hollywood might throw him some crumbs?

JUST SHUT UP AND SUFFER IN SILENCE! ACCEPT THE LIES THAT WERE SPREAD ABOUT YOU! LET YOUR ABUSER WIN!

I wonder if this clown would tell metoo victims not to get Justice?

#justiceforjohnnydepp

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awgeog2260 · 3 years

Text

Oral Histories: Why they Should be More Acknowledged in Qualitative Research

Originally I enrolled in this course (it is not required for my program) because I wanted to gain research skills in case I decide to do a masters program or do research with a professor at some point after my undergrad. But after the first two weeks I realized how valuable the course content and textbook material is for any consumer of knowledge. Thinking about where we get our information from and how we know this is reliable, is crucial to reflect on in 2021, when there is an abundance of information at our fingertips. We must be able to decipher what is legitimate information and what is not - or just make conscious decisions about what we indulge in. I also found week two on critical reflexivity, power, and subjectivity particularly interesting and again, felt like this kind of learning should be taught to a broad array of people, as it is very relevant in our lives not just as potential researchers, but as knowledge consumers. Thirdly, the Week 6 lecture and the incorporation of oral histories and tradition as a part of qualitative research and data resonated with me.

Personally I think that oral histories tell a story in a way that modern interviews or traditional history books can not. The part of human geography that I find interesting is the individualized human perspective. I like hearing stories from people who were there when a particular event unfolded, or who was living in a geographical place before it shifted into an entirely different landscape, or someone who has personal lived experiences and knowledge in a field that maybe doesn’t make it into our history classes. Right now I’m reading a book called Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer, I am sure some of you have heard of this as it was #1 on the bestseller list for some time.

The author is also a plant scientist and a member of the Potawatomi Nation. She uses oral histories that her mother told her to solve mysteries in the world of botany, and that is a lot of what she writes about in Braiding Sweetgrass. She explains that when she was an undergrad student research plants, she would ask her professors questions like “why do *flower A* and *flower B* always grow together in meadows?”, and the professor would tell her that is not a scientific question. She decides to research this topic more on her own, by asking her relatives that grew up collecting wildflowers and other plants for traditional medicines. Without spoiling this part of the book, I’ll just say that there was a scientific explanation to this question, just not one that was a part of traditional western research. It is important that we document the lives and histories of people before they are forgotten. These histories can also be told through maps and illustrations, later being used to maintain the integrity of these people’s experiences in museums, radia, television, or books. These oral histories seem to be often left out of research, especially in academia. I have tried citing information that people have verbally communicated to me throughout my life in an academic paper and was quickly shut down. To have richer, more inclusive research, we should include oral histories more often.

What are some ways you have seen oral histories used in qualitative research? I would be so interested to know!

References: Kimmerer, R. W. (2013). Braiding Sweetgrass. Milkweed Editions.

#oralhistories #qualitative research

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larrydrosalez · 4 years

Photo

I like relaxed language and I like blackness. This anthology is a celebration of both.

tawk

Sometimes we’re afraid to talk. Yes, WE. This might be about black talkin, but this here is for you too Sandy-Sue and Jin-Woo. I know you’ve had those days when somethin forces you to speak or preach or teach something you’d be much better off talkin about. You scour your brain in search of synonyms you learned in an English class (some time ago) or for some phrase you picked up from your favorite politically active musician – all for nada – because, in your scavenger-hunt for eloquence, you end up with 1000 syllables that don’t say anything. Trust me, I know the feeling. (Deleting those Gs and forgoing those apostrophes a few lines up still has me wary of some impending doom. O_o) [imagine the courage it took to include an emoticon.]

It is this fear of writing the way I feel most comfortable expressing myself that convinced me that this anthology needed to be compiled. It needed to be compiled and needs to be delivered to every writer that thinks their words aren’t good enough and to every reader that thinks some writer’s metaphors are too big and meaning too small. I want this anthology to combat any notion that in poetry white high-language is right language and that slang is to be reserved for Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou. This anthology, black-tawk, is intended to act as an examination of Black-American identity in contemporary poets through their specific use of colloquial vernacular, to be referred to as black-talk. These poems are compiled in order to reject “high language” (white-talk) as the only suitable means of intelligent and normative expression and that slave-talk is the only example of recognizable black expression. I seek to find a contemporary river of black voices that flow somewhere between a Mattie and a Michael Eric Dyson (and certainly above a Tyler Perry.)

So what does black-talk between a Mattie and a Dyson sound like? It sounds like black people you hear talking every day. There are no meanings lost in abstract metaphor, no need to keep a library assistant on call and there’s the occasional glimpse of slang. Nah, I ain’t only talkin ‘bout that talk you hurd on the corner’a 3rd and Main, because while that’s beautiful, this anthology hopes to reveal subtle currents of vernacular that black poets use to express blackness. Of course there’s more than a heap of uses of slang’s shining star - “ain’t,” but he’s joined by “nuff” and “betcha” and even “cd” (could.) And these are sometimes decorated by the absence of punctuation that lends itself to an exploration of space and caesura to create natural and lulling speech patterns that mimic the way black people talk. You won’t find Queen’s English here. Nothing like what Jamil (Robert Sims) in his poem “pre-sentence Report” (page____) refers to as “…nouns that // old Sigmund couldn’t EVEN spell.” Though in his poem Sims speaks of medical jargon, there are certainly poets that employ a sort of poetic jargon requires too much energy to decipher.

Not that deciphering is all bad, we wouldn’t want lazy readers, but when simplicity is forgone merely to sound poetic, the authenticity that makes poetry beautiful is lost. Stephanie Pruitt, a young poet from Nashville, could write novels about the process and love involved in getting her hair hot combed in the kitchen – but she doesn’t need to. Her haiku “Hair raising” (page _____) is beautiful in its ability to, concisely, resonate with black girls everywhere. “Hair burning in the kitchen” could easily become “kinky fibers laid straight by heated comb permeates the air in the place meals are made,” but it doesn’t need to. Now the form of haiku is innately simple but this same current of simplicity can be found throughout the anthology in various forms.

black

Sometimes we’re afraid to be black. Yes WE. This might be about black talkin but if you change black to “chino” or “country” this here is for you too Jose and Billy-Rae. It’s about black talkin because black talkin is what I know best. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been made to feel afraid to express my blackness (or asian-ness or mexican-ness.) If a university environment is any representation of the real world, and I fear it may be more forgiving of race, people don’t want black people to be black. Every scorned sagging pant, every kinky twist pressed to oblivion, every set of braids chopped off for a job where suits and ties are need can serve as a testament that black people aren’t allowed to be black.

Oh, but that’s not true, we have a black president! – right, having one black president negates the pressure every white professor ceo quarterback vice-president student government official city official member of congress employed contributing member of society member of congress places on black people to act white right.

…

I needed space to let that sit. The minority will always be made inferior when evaluated against the majority. Being black isn’t wrong, it’s just not being white. There are thousands of conversations to be had about blackness and black identity and defining what “black” is, but this is not a research paper and I am not an anthropological expert on the matter. So you ask, what does blackness have to do with this poetry anthology, and what does that contribute to life? Well, blackness is in the everyday things that black people do. There is no singular blackness. If you’re a black girl that gets a perm and a silky-smooth 32” Remy, you’re exuding blackness just as much as the sister pickin her afro every morning. If you’re a black boy with clean locks sitting proudly on the shoulder pads of your new Armani suit, you’re exuding blackness just as much as the scruffy brother in the newest Js and a tall-tee (although I personally detest tall-tees, that doesn’t negate the blackness found wearing it.)

Since poetry is a manifestation of expression based on personal experiences, black poets should be allowed to be black poets, right? No. An Essay by Evie Shockley entitled “All of the above: Multiple choice and African American Poetry” included in the introduction to the anthology “Rainbow Darkness,” edited by Keith Tuma, examines the reasons black authors are not allowed to be black authors. In short, he states (and I agree) that black authors (I would say all black artists) are subjected to “the poetics litmus test.” They must be judged based on political allegiances and racial “authenticity” rather than ability or talent. If a poet talks like Langston Hughes, they are authentically black, which is good, but they are a “black” poet not an “American” poet. According to Shockley, in order to receive the privileges “American” poets are afforded:

“An African American poet has had to avoid writing in styles or about subjects that are recognizably “black” in favor of “universal themes” and conventional aesthetics. Or she could slip in the back door by appearing willing to narrate ‘the black experience’ for white consumption in ways that do not fundamentally deconstruct white (liberal) understandings of race or directly advocate revolutionary social change.”

This provides a perfect explanation concerning why black poets are pressured away from talking black. Even I question whether or not I want to be “that black poet” every time my mind wants to pen a thought about kinky hair, “unique” names, or encounters with racism. Just as the fear of talking convinced me of the necessity of this anthology, the fear of being black doubly convinces me that there are people that need this.

black-tawk

I like relaxed language and I like blackness and this anthology is a celebration of both. These poets aren’t afraid to be black even when they’re not talking about black things. This collection includes poets just talkin and poets just being black and poets talkin about being black – none afraid to share their identity and the language they speak. Ntozake Shange isn’t afraid to write poems in a manner that is supposed to be talked. Sapphire sees the significance of what Claireece P. Jones has to say, and how she says it. Celes Tisdale saw the need for people to hear what inmates from Attica think. All of these voices have been gathered to fight the fear of being Black regular Mexican Asian poor Jamaican poorly-educated well-educated strange normal smart dumb black-tawking.

black-tawk is right. Don’t be shamed of it. These are your peers.

my tawk

And now that I’ve splattered you with my thoughts/rants about blackness and language and wooed you with my semi-intellectual prowess, I’d like to free myself of the black burden – a burden that has weighed heavy on my mind since I started compiling these poems. What is the black burden you ask? For me, it is the false interpretation that any black voice is THE black voice. To those reading in hopes of better understanding the black race based solely on the compilation of a 22-year-old-half-black-half-mexican-and-japanese-middle-class-college-guy I say: I am not THE black voice. I am not THE black voice. I am not THE black voice. I, like the poems selected for this anthology, do not represent the entire black race or encompass all Black-American identity. There is no anthology or single person that does. I, and these poems, do however represent a current of thought, a movement, towards talking. Towards tawking. Towards tawking black. black-tawk. Enjoy.

youtube

#thoughtsscatteredgrammarbent

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 5 years

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I Met A Boy

Based on I Met A Girl from Bells Are Ringing

Read on ao3

Summary: Roman’s met a boy. A wonderful boy. A most fabulous boy! Logan just wants him to shut up and let him work.

Warnings: Author was a tired mess when they wrote this, they also edited while a tired mess, no looking it over now that I’ve rested because we die like men

Pairings: Royality, Analogical

“Oh, Loooooooooo-gannnnnnnnnn!”

“I will pay you every cent in my bank account if you cease your thought process before it becomes verbal.”

Roman flopped onto his roommate’s bed, ignoring Logan’s cry of annoyance as his laptop jumped up in his lap and his sheets were crumpled. “I know you’re broke, Lo- your bribery won’t work on me.”

“It was worth a try.” Logan responded, going back to his typing as soon as he had gotten his laptop back in place. “I have too much work to do to deal with whatever problem you have imagined up for yourself today.”

“Ah, but today the problem is the opposite of a problem!” Roman exclaimed, ignoring Logan’s bewildered stare. “Oh, Logan, I met a girl! A wonderful girl!”

Logan blinked at him. “Roman… you’re gay.”

“Logan, I’m allowed to simply sing the praises of women, am I not?”

“Not in that voice.” Logan responded. “You have a certain tone when you are referring to your romantic interest of the week.”

“I do not!”

Logan glanced at Roman before resuming his typing at a quicker speed. Before Roman could ask what he was doing, Logan was turning the computer towards him, two sound waves lined out on the screen.

“This is your voice when you are simply praising something.” Logan clicked the top sound wave, a brief audio bit of Roman explaining why theater was so amazing playing. “This is your voice when describing the object of your affections.” The second sound wave played, this time one of Roman waxing poetic for his crush of one month ago.

“When did you record these-”

“Analyzing the wave frequencies, the differences in pitch, and how your general tone wavers throughout the sentence, it is easy to discern the difference between your appreciative rants and your more passionate ones.” Logan finished, a small smug smile on his face.

Roman considered the information for a moment before asking, “How long did you spend on this?”

“Three hours.” Logan replied with a shrug. “I finished my finals’ paper for astrophysics, I have time.”

“The finals aren’t for another three months!” Roman exclaimed before shaking his head. “Wait, no, nevermind. I’m about to break rule number one: never question the nerd. And I think you may just be trying to get me distracted from my most divinely important story!”

Logan frowned and turned back to his laptop. “I may have been.”

Roman grabbed Logan’s laptop and threw it over to his side of the room, it landing on Roman’s messy bed with a soft thunk while Logan glared at him. “You’re not paying enough attention to meeeeee.”

“You are incredibly childish.”

“One of my charms.” Roman said with a grin. “Now, because you are too much of a know-it-all for your own good, you spoiled my entire plan, and your punishment is giving your undivided attention to I!”

Logan sighed before leaning against the wall. “What plan would that be?”

“To pretend I was simply singing the praises of a girl so you wouldn’t mock me for having another crush.”

“I firmly believe you’ve had one on almost every boy at the school at this point.”

“It’s not my fault I’m so devilishly handsome and hopelessly romantic!”

“What does being ‘devilishly handsome’ have to do with you having crushes?”

Roman smirked at Logan and winked. “It just needs to be said every once in a while. Otherwise you might go and forget how utterly magnificent your roommate is!”

“If you are not quickly reaching a point, Roman, I really must return to my work.”

“You’re no fun.” Roman pouted before continuing, “But if I must move on from describing myself, then so we shall go on to describe the shooting star of beauty that is Patton dearest!”

“I find it doubtful his last name is actually dearest.”

“Shh. My story. And Patton, oh, if his last name isn’t dearest than the universe has made a grievous error- he’s a fabulous creature, Lo, made of stardust and wonderful dreams, and of that I haven’t a doubt in my mind.”

“Humans can’t be made of wonderful dreams.”

“Than perhaps he is not human at all, but instead an angel, fallen from the Heavens!” Roman suggested, sitting up on the bed at this, looking towards the ceiling before he placed his hands over his heart, sinking back down onto the mattress as he added, “Though that hardly seems right, given that I am the one who has fallen- fallen for him.”

“I feel you may be getting overly excited.” Logan said, watching his roommate stare star-struck into the space before him. “Is Patton not just another boy in your seemingly endless line of crushes?”

“I suppose… suppose you might say that.” Roman replied. “You’ve not seen him. To your ignorant mind, he might be just ordinary, just another boy. But Patton, Patton’s a special boy, Logan. He’s not like the others.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “So you’ve said many, many times before. I just fail to see what truly makes him different.”

“In theory, nothing.” Roman responded, sitting up on his knees so he could reach towards Logan, tracing his fingers over his face as he said, “He’s got two eyes, two lips, a nose, and a pair of ears, just like anyone else.”

Logan swatted his hands away. “I don’t feel you needed a prop to explain that concept.”

Roman shrugged as he pulled back. “It’s much more fun. But as I was saying- he may be normal to you, to a million people, but to me?” Roman slid off the bed, spinning around the room as he said, “I see the most enchanting face that’s ever been, features arranged just so. My pulse races when I realize I’m met such a marvelous boy!”

“You’re being overly-dramatic again.” Logan commented as he watched Roman spin about.

“Excellent!” Roman yelled as he ran into his bed, falling backwards onto it, clothing flying out of their messy piles on the bed from the impact and Logan’s laptop sliding to the side. “Being just plain dramatic wouldn’t come close to properly describing how he makes me feel! Oh, Logan, Patton’s rarer than- than-”

“Uranium?” Logan supplied.

“Rarer than uranium! Fairer than pearl! Clearer than diamond! Richer than gold! Not a thing in this earth could compare to him!”

Logan groaned. “Could you at least sing his praises a touch quieter? The RA will have our heads if you don’t.”

“But I can’t quiet down, Logan!” Roman replied, bouncing up so he was standing on his bed. “I’ve found me a treasure of a man, and I want to shout it to the whole wide world!”

“Roman-”

Their door slammed open a moment later, their RA glowering in the doorway. “It’s two hours before lights out, will you two-” Virgil stopped when he saw the scene. “What is- what is even going on?!”

Roman leapt off the bed, grabbing Virgil’s arms and pulling him around in a twirl. “I’m excited, nightmare on dorm street, and you know why?!”

“I don’t want to know.” Virgil responded, struggling in Roman’s hold, unable to free himself.

“I’m in love! I fell in love today, with the most wonderfully magnificent, perfectly perfect, heavenly view of a man!” Roman extolled, letting Virgil go, only for the RA to tumble onto Logan’s bed.

Logan glanced over at him as Roman continued to twirl himself around the room. “I apologize for this.”

“Nah, it’s no problem.” Virgil responded, moving so he was properly sitting on the bed, scooting closer to Logan as he did so. “Well, the noise certainly is, but I’m sure he’ll tire himself out soon enough.”

Logan chuckled. “I’m quite sure he will.”

“I’m a little surprised you’re still putting up with it.”

Logan nodded at his laptop across the room. “He confiscated my laptop, and with it, he took my ability to get any work done. I also know from good experience attempting to escape Roman when he’s in a ranting mood will only result in being picked up and flung back here by him. It is not an experience I need to repeat for a fifth time.”

“A fifth time?”

Logan looked away, slightly embarrassed. “One of those attempts was made while… slightly inebriated. The other four were made out of sheer desperation.”

Virgil laughed. “If Roman was my roommate, I’d be attempting escapes out of desperation every day.” Virgil immediately turned to look at Roman, expecting him to protest about who would want to escape his incredible presence. When he didn’t, Virgil shook his head. “He’s really far gone, isn’t he?”

“Apparently so.” Logan agreed, watching Roman run into a wall and simply spin away from it without a single pause, adjectives Logan was quite sure were made-up spilling from his lips all the while. He sighed. “Love truly makes one a fool.”

“Guess that’s why I’m so stupid.” Virgil said, getting a confused stare from Logan before Virgil shifted, moving so that he was flopped against Logan’s chest. He looked up at the now blushing college student, smirking. “I figured I’d give you ‘til finals were over to join me in the cave of fools, but the moment so readily presented itself, well, I just had to.”

Two minutes passed with Logan not responding, and Virgil was starting to wonder if it was possible to break a human so bad they never blinked again, when Logan gently slid Virgil off of him, stood up almost stiffly, and then bolted out of the dorm.

Virgil sighed as he stood up. Figures he’d fall in love with a track star.

“Does he always try and run from his problems?” Virgil asked Roman, not too surprised when the other didn’t answer. Sighing again, Virgil started his own run across campus. Safe bet to think the smartest kid in the dorms would head for the library, right?

Roman didn’t even notice when he was left alone in the room, continuing his senseless dance, singing his own senseless song,

“Oh, yes, that’s what I’m so excited about

A boy, a boy!

Such a wonderful boy.

I met a boy today!

And I fell in love today!

I met a boy today!”

#ts roman #ts virgil #ts logan #ts patton mentioned #analogical #royality #I met a girl #ts sides #sander sides #fanfic #fanfiction

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 028 [Ten Million Madness]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Author’s Note: Okay, so I feel to the need to say something because I’m kinda disappointed. So, I write out each chapter on paper because I write best that way, and then I can type it out on the computer to basically re-write/edit it to add more details to the basic premise for each chapter. Well, I ran out of paper in the original book, so I got another one. The problem is that this new book was from the dollar store, so it’s a bit smaller and the margins aren’t as big on either side of the page.

Three pages, front and back, in the old book averaged out to about 2.5k words or better. However, the same amount in this new book has just barely been scraping 2k. I feel bad, but it’ll be worse if I go mixing up the chapters to make them longer. I’ll continue to try more pages until I can get back to that 2.5k average. Not sure if anyone noticed or cares, but it’s really bugging me so I felt the need to say something lol (> ツ)>/*

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

Word Count: 2,078

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

〈“Right now, I’m giving it all my all. Looking for the hidden truth, wake me up, open my eyes. Even the soul inside of me, I’ll burn it up without anything remaining.” B.A.P, “Wake Me Up”〉

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

I stood off to the side, watching as the other students scrambled around trying to form teams and think of strategies. Several students from class A were surrounding Bakugo, trying to convince him to choose them for his team. I had considered asking to join him, too, but his attitude from after the race seriously put me off.

“Wait, remind me what your quirks are again.” He said, his face blank as he was overwhelmed by them. “And your names.”

I scoffed, covering my mouth. I mean, same, though. I should really start a list of the people I still need to learn the names of. I felt a tug on the leg of my pants, followed by the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.

“Jen, be my partner,” Mineta demanded, his eyes wide as he looked up at me. “I can be the rider and you’ll be the horse. Just imagining those pump boobs between my fingers gets me -”

“Who said you could say my name you prick?!” My eye twitched in anger as I brought my foot back, slamming it into his face and punting him across the field. He landed behind Octo, who he referred to as Shoji, and started whining about how all of the girls had refused to partner with him. I wonder fucking why.

What a fucking freak.

I glanced at Izuku. No one was even looking in his general direction, poor guy. I did say that I would look out for him and protect him… but this is just the sports festival and everyone is gonna be gunning for him. That’s a shit-ton of extra effort for whoever plays the horse. Still… I sighed deeply and started in his direction, pausing when slim fingers gently wrapped around my wrist, almost hesitantly. It was French Fry. Wait, why is he shaking like that? He’s clutching his stomach… must’ve overused his quirk in the last round.

“What’s up?” I asked, turning toward him.

He forced a smile despite the pained expression on his face. “I was hoping… you would like to be my partner.”

I glanced back at Izuku. Ochaco was chatting happily with him and another girl was quickly approaching them. Who knew he was so popular with the ladies? I turned back to the blonde, whose smile had lessened. “What’s your name again?”

“Yuga Aoyama, mademoiselle.”

“Aoyama,” I tested the name on my tongue before smiling at him. “Sure, why not. Let’s be partners.”

His face brightened, blonde locks swaying as he tilted his head. “Thank you!”

I nodded. “I’ll be the horse and I’ll carry you on my back. You focus on grabbing headbands and I’ll do my best to keep people at bay with my fire, okay?”

“Are we going after Midoriya?”

“Nah, that’s way too much trouble.” I scratched my cheek, glancing at the greenette. Both team Todoroki and team Bakugo were glaring at team Midoriya. “Everyone sees the big number, but not the big picture. A lot of teams are gonna be goin’ after him, but the smart teams will use the chaos as a smokescreen to stack up smaller numbers. We’ll be one of those teams.”

He straightened his back, arm loosely clutching his stomach. “I’ll do my best, mademoiselle!”

I grinned, wagging my finger. “My motto has always been to work smart, not hard.”

“I also have an idea, if you’re interested? I promise it’s magnifique.”

I raised a brow curiously, crossing my arms. “Alright, I’m listening. Let’s hear it.”

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

“Oh, goody, it’s time to get this party started!” Midnight announced, happily.

“Hey, hey, look alive! After fifteen minutes to pick teammates and talk strategy, thirteen cavalry teams are prepared to go head to head!”

“I see some unexpected student combinations,” Aizawa commented.

“Come on, everyone put your hands in the air! It’s time for an arena-bumping U.A. battle royale! Let me hear you scream~!”

I gripped Aoyama’s thighs when he hopped onto my back. “Wrap your legs around my waist, I’m gonna need at least one of my hands free for defense and I don’t want you to fall.”

“Right!” He shifted his weight, crossing his ankles across my stomach. His right arm was tight around my neck, the other resting on my shoulder so it would be free to grab headbands. With my two-hundred and five points and his five, we only came out to a total of two-hundred-ten points, but that’s fine. That number will be much higher when all of this is said and done.

“Let’s get this party started! One final countdown before the game starts! Three… Two… One…”

“Begin!!” Midnight shouted.

I sweatdropped as most of the teams made a beeline straight for Izuku’s team. “Idiots,” His group started to sink into the ground and he pressed a button in his hand, launching his team into the sky. Oi oi, is that shit even allowed? Ah, but Shadow is working so hard to defend, how fucking adorable! Shit, no, stay focused, dumbass. “Let’s set this place on fire, Aoyama!”

He nodded as his arm tightened, his fist clenching around my shirt.

While Invisigirl’s team was focused on Izuku in the sky, I rushed behind them and Aoyama reached out for her band, only to have it snatched by a blonde kid I had never seen before. I huffed, chasing after them. “Get ready to grab, and hold on tight!”

I lifted my left hand, increasing the temperature of my skin. I don’t want to set this kid on fire, I just gotta burn him enough where he releases his grip on the band. Shouldn’t be too difficult considering the fucker is carelessly swinging it around his finger without a care in the world. I focused on the spot behind his team – please oh great and powerful taco god, let this work! Aoyama squeaked in surprise as I teleported, clutching onto me for dear life. Pain shot through my skull but I did my best to ignore it, grabbing the boy’s wrist with my hand. He hissed in pain, the band falling from his fingers.

Aoyama snatched it and I jumped back just as the boy reached out for my face, his hand flaming. Huh, does he have a fire quirk, too? It seems to be hurting him, if that pained face is anything to go by. He held his hand out, fire shooting toward us. I can probably withstand it, those flames are pretty tame, but Aoyama can’t and my job is to protect him at all costs. I swept my hand across the air in front of me, a wall of flame sprouting up between us and clashing with the fire he had thrown at us. I used this opportunity to put distance between us – I’d rather not get caught up in a drawn-out battle over one fucking band, it wasn’t worth it.

Plus, you know, effort. I swear after this stupid sports festival is over, Imma fucking sleep for three months. I’m gonna turn into a fucking bear and hibernate.

Aoyama tied the band around his neck, breathing out. “We’re up to six-hundred, mademoiselle.”

I nodded, “Good job.”

“Wow! Barely two minutes have passed since we started and it’s already a total free for all! Yeah! Watch those headbands! You can even ignore the ten million points and go after the other chart-toppers!”

“Goddamn it, Mic,” I growled out, glaring at the commentator’s box. “Keep your fuckin’ ideas to yourself, you damned cockatiel!”

Izuku took off to the sky again and Bakugo jumped off of his horses, using his explosions to propel him toward them. Dark Shadow blocked him, of course.

“Woaaah! Bakugo has been separated from his horses! Is that even allowed?!”

He started to fall, only to have tape wrap around his waist and pull him back down to his horses, one of which was Flex Tape himself.

“He never touched the ground so technically it’s okay!” Midnight gave a thumbs up.

Seriously, what the fuck even is this game? Sheesh, these guys ain’t messin’ around, they’re actin’ like their lives depend on it. I don’t get paid enough for this shit.

Oh wait, I’m not getting paid at all. What a buzzkill.

“Behind us!”

I jumped to the side just as a green hand swiped by my face. “Rin?”

He grinned, sitting atop a large, hairy guy that ran on all fours. “I told you to call me Hiryuu!” His horse jerked forward and Hiryuu made a grab for the band around Aoyama’s neck. I slapped his hand away and he tried with the other.

“Sorry, Ryuu.” My fingers wrapped around his wrist and I tugged him forward. “Aoyama!”

His chest pressed against the back of my head as he leaned forward. Just as his fingers grazed the band, I noticed something transparent shooting toward us. The air solidified, forming a chain with a hook on the end. Within seconds, the headband was snatched from Ryuu’s head.

I snapped my head to the side, eyes narrowed. It’s that black-haired boy that was with Doc Brown’s love child. He’s one of the horses for that loudmouthed silverette from class B. “Damn it,” I jumped back as Ryuu tried again to grab the band. “Sorry, bro, gotta jet!” I focused on the opposite side of the field – there’s far too many teams in this one area and I need breathing room. With just two of us, it’ll be bad to get surrounded.

I teleported, sweat rolling down my cheek as my head throbbed painfully, making me clench my teeth.

“Are you okay?” Aoyama asked worriedly. “You’re shaking.”

I huffed, leaning over. “I think I… just discovered the… limit of my teleportation… awesome…” Shit, I don’t think I’ll be able to use it anymore, at least not until I recover a shit-ton of stamina.

“Now, who wants to take a look at each team’s place so far?! It’s been seven minutes so let’s get those rankings started on the screen! Hold on here… this is an unexpected turn! Other than Midoriya and Winchester, class 1-A’s not doing so hot! Even Bakugo is losing!”

“What?” My eyes snapped to the screen. “No way… He’s at zero?” A sudden angry aura grabbed my attention and I looked across the field – of course, it was coming from Bakugo. It was directed at that blonde guy with the fire quirk. Bakugo, you better not leave me up here alone, bro. Get those damn points back, you bastard.

“And now, we’ve reached the halfway point of the game! As the cavalry battle enters the second half, it’s anyone’s game! Class 1-B has made an unexpected showing, but who will wear the ten million points in the end?! That’s the real question, sports fans!”

The throbbing in my head started to dull a bit and I squeezed his thighs. “Aoyama, we’re going for the group that stole Ryuu’s headband. That’s one-hundred-twenty-five points, and if we can grab that silver-haired bitch’s seven-hundred-five, we’ll be at fourteen-thirty-five. That’ll put us in second place for now. Let’s see if that plan of yours actually works out for us.”

He swallowed hard. “L-Let’s do it! Apres la pluie le beau temps!”

“No idea what the fuck you just said but let’s hope it’s something helpful. Alright!” I grinned, bending my knees. With fire under my boots, I propelled myself forward, rushing straight toward the unsuspecting silverette and his team.

“Tetsu!” The ravenette noticed us, but not fast enough.

My hand turned red as it shot toward the rider. His arm shot up, blocking the blow as his skin turned to metal. “Well, shit…”

He grinned, showing off sharp teeth like Kiri’s. “Hey, that tickles!”

I matched his grin. “If that body of yours can turn to steel, then that means I don’t have to hold back, right?” My hand erupted in flame and I pushed against him. The flames spread across his metallic skin, sweat appearing on his face from the intense heat. Aoyama’s hand shot forward, fingers clutching the band around the silverette’s neck.

I felt the air around us changing, a chain shooting out from the ravenette. Shit! I slipped my hand up, burning the side of the band around his forehead and it fell into Aoyama’s hand just as large transparent hand shoved us away.

“Our band! He got it!” Aoyama cried.

I cursed as the transparent chain returned to its owner, Aoyama’s band landing in his hand. “Goddamn it.”

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

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📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

#rise above it #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #anime #writing #creative writing #writeblr #scenario #scenarios #anime scenarios #anime scenario #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfics #anime fanfic #anime fanfics #first person #series

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terramythos · 4 years

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TerraMythos' 2020 Reading Challenge - Book 3 of 26

Title: Shriek: An Afterword (Ambergris #2) (2006)

Author: Jeff VanderMeer

Genre/Tags: Weird, Memoir, Historical (like... in a fictional world lol), Horror, Fantasy, War, Mushroompunk (yeah), Postmodern, Female Protagonist, Disabled Protagonist, First Person, Unreliable Narrator.

Rating: 7/10

Date Began: 1/19/2020

Date Finished: 1/29/2020

Shriek: An Afterword is a pseudo-memoir by a woman named Janice Shriek about the troubled lives and relationships of her and her brother Duncan Shriek in the strange, fungus-riddled city of Ambergris. While Janice believes Duncan is dead, he's apparently found her manuscript and makes extensive edits and commentary throughout the story. (This is indicated in parenthetical sentences, like this one.)

The closer I get to the end, the closer I get to the beginning. Memories waft up out of the ether, out of nothing. They attach themselves to me like the green light, like the fungi that continue to colonize my typewriter. I had to stop for a while -- my fingers ached and, even after all that I have seen, the fungi unnerved me. I spent the time flexing and unflexing my fingers, pacing back and forth. I also spent it going through a box of my father’s old papers -- nothing I haven’t read through a hundred times before... On top, Duncan had placed the dried-up starfish, its skeleton brittle with age. (I kept it there as a reminder to myself. After your letter to me -- which, while reading this account, I sometimes think was written by an entirely different side of your personality -- I wanted to remember that no matter how isolated I might feel, separated from others by secret knowledge, I was still connected. It didn’t help much, though -- it reminded me of how different I had become.)

To qualify my rating, I have to be honest. This book is officially separated into two parts, and I found Part I -- which makes up about 60% of the novel -- pretty boring. On the other hand, Part II is brilliant, and everything coalesces beautifully in this second act. Is it worth it? I thought it was, but I understand anyone who tries and gives up.

Even though Shriek is technically a standalone, I would strongly recommend you read City of Saints and Madmen (#1) first. Both Duncan and Janice are key characters in two of those stories (The Hoegbotton Guide to the Early History of Ambergris and The Transformation of Martin Lake, respectively), and there are references and connections all over the place. I’m not sure if Shriek does a great job introducing Ambergris to new readers, so people starting here will be pretty lost without reading the first book.

Just to clear the air, I really liked this book... overall. As I said, the first half-or-so of the book was pretty rough, but the second half redeems it in a lot of ways, even justifying certain writing/plot decisions that didn’t gel with me at first. However “it gets good eventually” is not really an excuse for the rough first half. Hence the mediocre rating. I was close to giving this book a 6/10, but I found that I appreciated the first half much more by the time I got to the ending, so that bumped it up a little. Maybe I’ll enjoy this book more on a reread when I can see the patterns and know where they’re leading ahead of time.

Before I dive into my issues with it, I’d like to discuss the strong points of this novel.

At a base level, VanderMeer is a great writer. He has a mastery of the English language that always delights me when I read his stuff. So even when I struggled to like this story in the first half, his wordplay and prose were entertaining and thought-provoking.

I loved the format. The story basically has two protagonists, since you see things from Janice’s point of view and then Duncan’s interpretations-- but it’s in a very postmodern way, not just a perspective switch like most novels do. Duncan’s commentary often brings much needed humor or heartbreak, depending on the situation.

In particular, any scene in which Janice and Duncan interact directly is brilliant. Janice recalls a scene, but her memory is faulty (like anyone’s), so sometimes she forgets what they talked about, or interpreted an interaction in a certain way. Then Duncan dives in with his own commentary, supplying information Janice didn’t include or forgot, or correcting something she said, or offering an alternate interpretation... these scenes were fascinating to read and some of my favorite parts of the novel.

There’s a lot of fun revelations and Easter eggs for people who read City of Saints and Madmen. In particular:

My favorite story in the first book was The Cage, which is a work of fiction within the universe of Ambergris by a man named Sirin. In particular there is a very creepy and distinct monster that plays a pivotal role in the story. However, since it’s technically fiction within fiction, that monster and the events didn’t really happen in canon... right? Imagine my surprise in this book when Janice encounters and describes a very similar monster. This struck me as odd, until I got to epilogue/afterword at the end... written by Sirin, and everything clicked. He got the idea for his “fictional” monster from Janice’s account in this story. He doesn’t state this outright, but it’s the only explanation that makes sense. I loved that. It was like putting a puzzle together and it would have been so easy to miss. And there’s the extra horror that something like that really exists in this world. There was other stuff like this but this one stood out to me, and I’m sure there’s other things I missed.

This mostly concerns the second half, but the war sequences and memories are horrific and brilliant. It's very World War II-esque with a unique twist to it (the awful fungal bio weapons one of the sides uses). In particular, the war is introduced with a chapter about a ceasefire opera staged in the broken city... without spoiling it, it’s an excellent and intriguing self-contained story.

And the horror chapter about the Festival, which is conspicuously absent in the rest of the story? Just so goddamn good. VanderMeer strikes just the right chord with me when it comes to horror. It’s always fresh and intensely creepy.

If you told me this during the first half, I wouldn’t believe you -- but I ended up loving the characters and finding most of their relationships fascinating. This is a heartbreaking story and it really hit home by the end.

With that lofty praise, what’s my issue with Part I? The simplest way I can put it is that the struggles Duncan and Janice face are so mundane. They would maybe be interesting in a generic work of fiction, but here they felt out of place. For example, Janice’s arc concerns her rise to fame, which leads to success, which leads to lavish parties and orgies, which leads to excesses and a drug addiction, which leads to a suicide attempt, which leads to rehab, which leads to a diminished life of poverty. Yes, these can be interesting and harrowing problems in the right context, but the strongest point of these books is the setting, and there was nothing that tied these events to Ambergris. You could easily go through and change the character/place names and it wouldn’t seem off.

Duncan is a little more interesting in this regard, because his is a story of obsession. In particular, he’s obsessed with the gray caps (strange humanoid mushroom creatures that haunt the pages of these books), and it takes over his life until he becomes totally discredited as a historian. But even he falls into this trap when he becomes a college professor and has an affair with one of his much younger students (Yikes! Though it is treated as creepy within the story, at least). That takes over most of his character’s emotional core from that point.

Said student -- Mary Sabon -- is a core antagonist in the story. Janice in particular obsesses over her and her personal vendetta against her, and honestly even with the second part I was never really sold on this or cared about it all that much, so I was disappointed it took up so much of the story.

All of this would be one thing, but there’s all sorts of tantalizing hints about more interesting things. The gray caps probably have some ulterior motive that no one knows! There’s this crazy eldritch Machine hidden underground! Duncan is sort of turning into a mushroom! But these are only teased before the story pivots back to something comparatively uninteresting. Rather than encouraging me with the cool foreshadowing, it just got grating because it meant there were more interesting events and stories going on that I didn’t get to see for some arbitrary reason. Janice also rambles and goes back and forth quite a bit. This is clearly intentional (after all, you learn in the end this is a mostly unedited draft -- at least in the fiction of the story), but even so, it can be hard to follow at times.

Part II justifies a lot of this because these hints do pay off. You DO get to see a lot of the interesting stuff in detail at this later point of the story, and it’s not always what you expect. There’s overt and subtle dramatic irony and contrast between what characters go through in the first half versus the stranger, more profound traumas of the second half. You learn Janice is suffering from some severe PTSD and it explains a lot of the manic style in the first half. But again, is it worth 245-ish mediocre (to me) pages? I think that probably depends on the reader. I had a problem with it-- but clearly a lot of people don’t, based on reviews I’ve skimmed. Many put the book down and don’t finish it, but that’s true for any book. Hell, lots of people preferred the first half, so who knows.

Ultimately, I’m glad I read this book. For me it really does come together in an amazing way toward the end, and I found myself really caring about Janice and Duncan. If you read City of Saints and Madmen and want more of the characters and the world, then definitely give this a try. But it is a pretty niche book as these things go, so I can’t recommend it to everyone.

Anyway, I’ve come this far -- so I’m going to read Finch, the final (for now?) installment in this universe.

#taylor reads #7/10 #2020 reading challenge

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selenapostea · 4 years

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Mobile apps for lawyers in 2020

While we owe smart phones a debt of gratitude for familiarizing us all together with the epic, ongoing avian/swine fight (now having an Easter edition!), there are also a myriad of programs that may increase productivity and efficiency for attorneys. Taking a break from our traditional blogroll, in this week`s Sociable Attorney Round Up, we give you-our top 10 smart phone applications for the legal profession. Whether you`re an L1 student or experienced lawyer, odds are that you`re rocking an iPhone (fingers crossed for iphone-5) or you pledge allegiance to the Android army. Useful attorney cell applications for all these phones array from applications that protect legal reference material to document management suites to basic apps that act as a clock to monitor your billable hours. When enhanced with mobile applications that are effective and relevant, you'll be able to use your smartphone to untether yourself from your real world desk. You can now work everywhere, the bus, the beach, waiting in line at the DMV"¦the choices are limitless! Obviously, just because you can doesn`t suggest you should"¦but that`s still another subject completely. You`ll discover a mixture of I-OS and Android based mobile applications below, complete with a brief review as well as their respective Industry link for downloading. Have a legal application that you couldn`t live without? Tweet at us (@sociablelawyer) on that smart phone of yours and let us know!

LogMeIn Ignition

Price: $29.99, Platform: I-OS and Android, Needs: iOS 3.0 or later |Android version 1.5 and up, Buy Links: iOS Marketplace | Android Market Over 125 million devices worldwide run LogMeIn service to supply remote-access to comprehensive personal and enterprise. From your palm of your hand, you're able to remotely get a grip on your Computer or Mac directly out of your phone that is smart as though you were standing in front of it. From this solitary app it is possible to view, transfer and save your self documents or folders between your entire devices using a straightforward click. You can also remotely operate any business program you might have installed on your computer from your own phone. With you, the contents of your desk-top are always with LogMeIn Ignition. Installation is simple enough, as nicely. Purchase the mobile application out of your phone`s respective marketplace, produce an online account with LogMeIn Ignition, install the software in your computer and you`re ready to go mobile. For people who see "9 to 5` as simply a a a vintage Dolly Parton monitor, this cellular application is the definition of un-Tethered.

Google Reader

Price: Free, Platform: Android, Demands: Android version 1.6 and up, Purchase Link: Android Market Your mobile gadget was personalized for by an RSS reader, the feeds are aggregated by Google Reader out of your favorite websites into one cellular app that is handy. Of Above the Law blog avid reader? Big on Huge Legal Brain, possibly? Not only does the Google Reader app make it a cinch to a DD your favorite weblogs or websites, it syncs with all the net edition you could already have fullyloaded along with your preferences. An important feature is that this mobile app supports offline studying; download everything via Wifi and you`ll never be trapped underground on the tunnel again with no comfort of Lawyerist in your palm (only one week left to enter that Fujitsu ScanSnap s1300 give away!). With functions like the capability to track keywords and searches across various news and search web sites along with the choice to "share` anything across your different social networks, Google Reader is is among the the most extensive feed apps on the market.

Droid Law

Price: Free, System: Android, Demands: Android version 2.0.1 and up, Obtain Link: Android Market DroidLaw is a legal reference cell software that contains the following in its foundation application: the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure, the Federal Rules of Evidence., the Federal Principles of Appellate Procedure, the Federal Rules of Criminal Method and the Federal Rules of Bankruptcy Procedure. Additional reference supplies, for example the United States code or U.S. Constitution add-on, are accessible in the Android industry for a payment. As of March `11, 3 1 state codes within their entirety are available for obtain as add-ons in the Android Market, with a promise by the developer to b-ring all fifty state codes by year`s finish.

Black`s Law Dictionary, 9th Edition

Price: $54.99, Platform: I-OS (coming soon to Android), Requires: iOS 3.1 or later, Buy Link: iOS Market Regarded as the most extensively cited legislation e-book in the world, Black`s Legislation Dictionary mobile application for I-phone provides over 45,000 conditions (with spelling pronunciations for over 7,000) and not quite 3,000 quotations directly to your handheld. With genuine time and progressive look up search functions, this mobile app is the authorized dictionary for today`s law pupils and lawyers alike. Integrate with your WestLaw login for full access to hyper link cross references (will pull up and redirect to your mobile browser). You`ve utilized the dictionary. You know the advantages. Now encounter it all a T the touch of your finger tips, any-time and anywhere. Using an application for Android coming soon, Black`s Legislation Dictionary mobile app is a luxury given the cost but a necessity provided the worth.

Cam Scanner " Phone PDF Creator

Price: Free, Platform: iOS and Android, Needs: I-OS 3.1 or later | Android edition 2.0, Buy Links: iOS Marketplace | Android Market Very rarely does one visit a lawyer lugging a transportable scanner along with their laptop, briefcase tablet and latte. In case you find yourself in need of a PDF image in a pinch, maybe while meeting a consumer a T your local Star Bucks (no brick and mortar office for you!), Cam Scanner turns your phone right into a document scanner using the created in camera. Simply snap a picture of receipt the paper document, agreement or even discussion and you may get the cropped and enhanced image that is scanned in the app. Once converted to a PDF, you've the choice of storing tagging or even uploading your documents into your cloud server to give others.

PocketJustice

Price: Free (Limited), System: iOS and Android, Requires: I-OS 3.1.1 or later | Android model 2.1 or over, Buy Links: iOS Market | Android Market PocketJustice "brings the U.S. Supreme Court down to earth` and in to the palm of your fingers. This cell application provides situation details and audio on constitutional regulation cases from the Supreme Courtroom canon. While the free version includes information for the best 100 constitutional legislation cases, the premium edition for $4.99 affords customers access to all 600 circumstances. In many cases, PocketJustice even provides synchronized and searchable transcripts pulled from the Court`s public proceedings. Curious as to what knowledge Justice Sonia Sotomayor is bringing to the bench? PocketJustice has you covered there, too. Users can see voting alignments and biographies of all 1 10 justices within the app. Additionally, the new "share` function lets you send note-worthy instances out via email, Facebook and Twitter.

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shramith54 · 4 years

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Reflective E-portfolio

Week 2: Starting Out

I arrived in Melbourne in February and had to wait for a month for the semester to start. So, I was eagerly waiting for the start of the semester. I had purchased a lot of notebooks and stationery to get me started however I was in for a surprise on the first day when I saw most of my classmates using their laptops to take notes. I haven’t used any of the notebooks I bought and took me a couple of weeks to get used to using my laptop to study. I quickly had to learn to organize all of my study materials into files and folders on my laptop to help me with my studies. I knew studying in a different country is going to be completely different from what I was used to. Therefore, my approach going in during the first week was to get myself adapted as quickly as possible. I also found at the weekly PowerPoint presentation on each subject to be very useful to help with studying and a great way of keeping track of the topics that are covered during the week.

Artifacts

My notebook collection ( Shramith’s gallery)

Week 5: Teamwork

During my group assignment we came up with a lot of good ideas and our execution was very good considering the circumstances. We had to deliver our presentation online which proved to be quiet challenging. we decided to stick to the task we were assigned and not completely overhaul our presentation. The leader of a group must know when to delegate tasks and share the workload. Their responsibility includes recognizing that something has changed and the group needs to act accordingly( Frassl, Marieke, A , Hamilton, David , P, Denfeld & Blaize, A 2018 ). All members from my group delegate tasks to themselves to ease the workload of the team. We were quick in coming up with subtle changes to our presentation when there was a change in the platform for the presentation. The subtle changes I had to make to remember my content while presenting such as having a couple of stick notes stuck on my wall for helping me present online. Peer feedback was crucial in highlighting our coverage on different aspects of the topic. I intend to explore and take different approaches in researching for further topics to improve on my writing skills.

Artifacts

Sticky notes on my desk wall ( Shramith’s gallery)

Peer feedback ( Shramith’s laptop gallery)

Frassl, Marieke, A , Hamilton, David , P, Denfeld & Blaize, A 2018, ‘ Ten simple rules for collaboratively writing a multi-authored paper’, PLOS computational biology, vol. 14, no. 11, pp. 1-8, viewed 18 May 2020, Proquest database

Week 7: Self-management:- motivation and resilience

Just a couple of weeks into the semester and we had to shift online for our classes. I had never been part of an online class before so I found it for the first couple of weeks to sit in front of my laptop. I tend to become a tad lazy during this period as I had nowhere to go and the classes were virtually a step away from my bed. When a felt my focus dropped significantly, I started to find new spaces around the house to just bring in a change. I started sitting in the kitchen and after spending about 40-50 mins there I started to move to the common area for the next 40-50 just to change the environment. Initially when I got a job balancing it with my assessments became a task. I started to schedule my days and the amount of work I had to do each day to complete my assessments on time while I was working. It was a challenge to stick to the schedule I had worked out as I would be exhausted after I got back from work and the tasks, I had to complete seemed very daunting. I decided to reschedule my tasks for the day to help ease the burden and It has helped me maintain a good balance between work and my studies.

Artifacts

Studying in the Kitchen ( Shramith’s gallery)

Week 9: understanding and utilizing feedback

The grades I received by my teacher on my research essay (A3) in business communication for which I had put in a lot of time was overwhelming at first. However, after I read the entire feedback which consisted of things I had done well and highlighted the things I need to work on I got done to solving the issues for other assessments. I had never used the TEEL structure before. I referred to the weblink my teacher had suggested to help with the TEEL structure which I tried to incorporate in my research essay(A2) in management of sporting organizations. I also tended to not proofread my work after editing out grammatical mistakes in my assessments. Without proofreading my work, I never used to notice if my sentences were linked to one another and if it made sense to the reader. One of my friends back home suggested I use the read-aloud program on Microsoft word to proofread which has helped me with my other assessments as well. One of the major things I worked on was my use of in-text and secondary citations. I didn’t know the difference between the two until I spoke to my teacher and did some research on my own. I now have a better understanding of in-text and secondary citations and how to use them appropriately.

Artifacts

https://emedia.rmit.edu.au/learninglab/content/paragraph-structure

Week 11: Managing assessments

My strong-points this semester for most of my assignments have been researching for information and referencing it with the help of Holmesglen Harvard guide. Before I start searching for credible information, I make a note of all the things I know about the topic first. This helps me come with keywords and terms which help me find relevant information that I want to include in the assessment. I need to improve on using the information I have collected to answer the topic question of the assessment. I need to spend more time proofreading and editing minor errors as they tend to build up during the assessment. The other thing I need to improve is my in-text citations and secondary citations and usage of quotes in my assessment. I need to work on breaking up my paragraphs into smaller ones as I tend to fit all the information, I collected into one big paragraph. During the process of working on my weakness before submitting I feel a bit more confident as I have spent more time on things, I need to improve. I also feel a bit more relaxed before submitting as I constantly get feedback from my teacher on my assessments which always helps me improve on my academic skills.

Week 13: Future Strategies

Learnings

Studying in a different environment was always going to be a challenge and going online for practically the whole semester made it a lot tougher to get used to studying in a different environment. In all my years as a student I had never studied online and I always preferred to study on campus to experience university life. I had no idea how to go about studying online and first it did get difficult to use to but I still managed to learn a lot about writing reports and essays, making good presentations, and understanding how to reference and use citations in my assessments.

Skills and attributes

There were a lot of skills I discovered and developed which I never paid much attention to. One such skill was my communication with my teachers. I never asked many questions to help with my work and get feedback on my work as I was always afraid of my work being wrong and not appropriate. When I was encouraged to ask questions, it felt very comforting and now I communicate a lot with my teachers to get from my work and I feel a lot more confident when I hear their thoughts on my work and encourage me to come up with more questions. The other major skill I developed was my balancing my studies and my external interests. This is made me much more efficient and start working out a schedule to manage my studies and my interests better. I have started to plan to manage my tasks for my studies and external interests to ease the load of work I do daily.

Positives of this semester

1) Getting myself more involved during class by asking a lot of questions.

2) Asking for guidance from my teachers when I need it.

3) Adapted considerably well to studying in a different environment

4) Striking out a balance between my studies and external interests.

Improvements for the next semester

1) Spend more time on my assessments

2) Keep Working on my writing skills

3) Use my textbooks more for getting more information for my assessment.

Artifacts

My E-mail ( Shramith’s laptop gallery)

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kuro-gossips · 5 years

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Splashes of Colour

Chapter 3: Shades of Orange

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Newt blearily blinks his eyes and is immediately greeted by Theseus’ and Leta’s faces, anxiety and concern plain as day on them.

“Newt!” Leta’s expressive chestnut eyes soften as he comes to as she inquires about his health. “How are you feeling?”

“W-what happened?” The former Hufflepuff questions, confusion gracing his features. He doesn’t need the other two to explain because his memories come flooding back: he remembers Theseus and himself arguing about the upcoming war, he remembers feeling lightheaded and exhausted, and then he remembers succumbing to that exhaustion.

Theseus’ brow is furrowed, his voice is quivering slightly when he speaks, “You passed out and we brought you to the Ministry’s infirmary. Have you been eating regularly and sleeping enough? I know you’re prone to forgetting these kind of things, Newt…”

The freckled wizard replies, indignantly, because for once, he has been taking proper care of himself, “I have!”

Theseus just gives him a look that says that he doesn’t believe a word coming out of his brother’s mouth. The mediwitch chooses this moment to enter the room, returning with a diagnosis on Newt’s well-being. The three of them stare expectantly at her, to which the brunette can’t help but sigh. She glances at the clipboard she is toting and starts to read from it.

“It’s not exactly clear why Mr. Scamander fainted. The most likely explanation is acute fatigue from overworking yourself.” The witch discloses and the Head Auror sends a knowing and smug expression to Newt.

“Of course I was right about this.” Leta rolls her eyes in exasperation at the Scamander brothers’ antics. These two always have a complicated relationship, no matter how old they are.

“As of now, I would advise Mr. Scamander to get some rest and to abstain from strenuous activities.” With her job done, the mediwitch excuses herself from the room.

“You heard her, now you have to join us for dinner, okay?” Theseus declares, leaving no room for argument. Newt decides it’s time to graciously admit defeat and assents. After his discharge papers are filled and filed, the trio head back to Theseus and Leta’s place in London.

Newt inquires if he can help with anything, but the other two are adamant about him being not only a guest, but on medically-advised rest, so he arbitrarily thinks about what’s going on in his life, while he is seated on their couch. The dark-haired witch moves gracefully around the kitchen, wand in hand, and casting spells to prepare a meal for them. Theseus is busy setting the table and aiding where he can with dinner. Several minutes fly by and the meal is complete. Theseus sits himself at the head of the table, leaving Newt and Leta to awkwardly face each other; although, they try their best to avoid any semblance of eye contact. The blonde Auror attempts to make small talk, but it quickly goes nowhere. Leta grabs ahold of Theseus’ hand, soothing his uneasiness, and her fiancée offers her a sweet and loving look. Theseus never ceases to be amazed with the witch’s ability to understand his underlying feelings at any given time.

The younger Scamander brother can tell that the two of them are deeply in love and he knows that it is the soulmate bond that ties them together even closer, so he has to break the silence by asking, “What is it like to be soulmates?”

Soulful brown eyes turn towards him and after a beat, she retorts, “Why, Newt, you’ve never been one to fancy hearing anything about soulmates.”

“Ah, well,” She has him there, but Newt thinks quickly on his feet, “I came across a pair of Graphorns a couple of months back -- the last breeding pair, in fact -- but it is said that they are creatures that mate only once and for life. I just wanted to see if I could draw some parallels between humans and Graphorns for the second edition of my book.”

Naturally, Newt would raise a question that pertains to his love of magical beasts. Theseus muses. The two lovers exchange a brief glance, before venturing on.

“How to explain it…” Theseus ponders, “It’s like a missing puzzle piece has finally been found or--”

“-- or you never have to voice your insecurities because your soulmate simply knows already.” Leta finishes. The engaged pair nod in agreement and continue blabbering on such niceties about being in a reciprocated soulmate relationship that Newt actually feels sick. He wonders why he couldn’t have had a less difficult soulmate -- Gellert Grindelwald of all people!

A particular portion of the conversation catches his attention, “-- we’ve noticed the strangest phenomenon recently. It feels like we’ve grown stronger, in a magical sense. And when we’re physically too far apart for too long, we can feel it dampening.”

In an abrupt realization, Newt’s dilemma regarding his health makes sense. No one knows that the world’s most infamous Dark wizard is the magizoologist’s soulmate and so undoubtedly, no one has made the connection. His deteriorating strength and weakening magical abilities can be attributed from being geographically isolated from Grindelwald. Hence, after they’ve concluded dinner, Newt makes a hasty retreat back to his house, muttering excuses about how he needs to rest, but he needs to escape from the lovesick couple and the newfound answers he’s discovered. When he’s finally in the warm embraces of his bedroom, he curls up in a fetal position and weeps. He doesn’t want this.

***

The day has just turned to evening and the sky is overcast, clouds gathering as a storm brews. Newt stumbles through the crowded streets of non-magical London. He notices that Theseus is indeed right about the Ministry assigning a tail to him. He hates the idea that not only could they prohibit him from travelling, but also to add surveillance. His innate reaction is to cross the street, just in time for line of sight of the Ministry’s employee to be cut off from him as a car rolls by, and he ducks behind the corner of a building. He peeks out and whispers, “Ventus.”

An overwhelming gust of wind propels said man back, even as he tries to resist by opening his black umbrella, garnering weird looks from Muggles passing by. Newt smiles, not quite a smirk, and feels the tap of a finger on his shoulder. When he looks in the opposite direction, he catches sight of a black leather glove waving. Then, it gestures to the top of a building, where he can see a tiny figure brandishing the top of their hat at him. Newt shakes his head as he grips the glove and is transported to the rooftop. He steadily makes his way across narrow ledges to where a middle-aged man with greying auburn hair and a full beard is waiting: Albus Dumbledore. The curly redhead presents the glove back to the Hogwarts professor as he greets him with amusement in his voice, “Dumbledore. Were the less conspicuous rooftops full, then?”

Dumbledore doesn’t turn to look at his former student from the sight before him, but he fondly states, “Well, I do enjoy a view. Nebulus.”

Fog descends over the city in front of them and the two of them Disapparate to Trafalgar Square. They stride past the landmark lions as they converse.

“How was it?” Dumbledore inquires and at this Newt frowns, before he responds.

“They’re still convinced that you sent me to New York.” He’s referring to the three wizards he had the displeasure of meeting during all five of his appeal hearings.

“You told them I didn’t?” The other retorts, but the former student seems disgruntled with his reply.

“Yes, even though you did.” The author scrutinizes his professor’s face, looking for changes in facial expressions as he continues with his deductions, “You told me where to find that trafficked Thunderbird, Dumbledore. You knew that I would take him home and you knew that I’d have to take him through a Muggle port.”

The Hogwarts teacher digresses, “Well, I’ve always felt an affinity with the great magical birds. There’s a story that’s passed down in my family: a phoenix will come to any Dumbledore in desperate need. They say my great-great-grandfather had one, but that it took flight when he died, never to return.”

Newt looks at him with incredulity, “With all due respect, I don’t believe for a minute that’s why you told me about the Thunderbird.”

There is a noise behind them as a figure of a man appears through the fog, causing the two to Disapparate away again when they spot him. When they reappear, they have relocated to a bus station and board a parked, empty bus.

“Credence is in Paris, Newt. He’s trying to trace his real family. I take it you’ve heard the rumours regarding who he really is?” Dumbledore reveals, leaning forward from his seated position. Newton is very much aware of the first part, but the rest is news to him.

“No.”

“The purebloods believe he’s the last of an important French line, a baby whom everyone thought lost…”

“Not Leta’s brother?” The younger wizard interrupts, briefly, surprise written all over his features. He hasn't heard much about the Lestrange’s long lost son, except that he was taken out of Europe in fear of his life. Not to mention, he hasn't been in close contact with any of the Lestrange family in general.

“That’s what they’re whispering. Pureblood or not, I know this: an Obscurus grows in the absence of love as a dark twin, an only friend. If Credence has a real brother or sister out there who can take its place, he might yet be saved.” A beat passes, during middle-aged man's account. “Wherever Credence is in Paris, he’s either in danger or a danger to others. We may not know who he is yet, but he needs to be found. And I rather hoped you might be the one to find him.”

Dumbledore conjures a card with a glowing golden symbol on it and the Hufflepuff examines it with confusion, “What’s that?”

“It’s an address of a very old acquaintance of mine. A safe house in Paris, reinforced with enchantments.”

“A safe house? Why would I need a safe house in Paris?” The magizoologist sputters, raising an eyebrow in question, mouth slightly agape.

“One hopes you won’t, but should things at some point go terribly wrong, it’s good to have a place to go. You know, for a cup of tea.” The wizard’s blue eyes sparkle in amusement as he says this.

“No, no, no -- absolutely not.” Newt vehemently refuses. A Muggle enters the driving compartment, forcing them to depart and they Apparate on to a bridge and Dumbledore spells the bright lights that line the bridge to darken.

“I’m banned from international travel, Dumbledore. If I leave the country, they will put me in Azkaban and throw away the key.” Newt deplores, like he can’t believe that his former Professor is asking him to do such an insane task.

“Do you know why I admire you, Newt? More, perhaps, than any man I know?” Newt is caught off guard by the flattery, but the older wizard persists nonchalantly, “You don’t seek power or popularity. You simple ask, is the thing right in itself? If it is, then I must do it, no matter the cost.”

He watches through his fringe, green eyes cautious as he counters, “That’s all very well, Dumbledore, but, forgive me for asking, why can’t you go?”

“I cannot move against Grindelwald. It has to be you.” The Hogwarts professor pauses, taking in Newt’s face. The younger’s face contorts into despondency because Dumbledore is requesting that he partakes in the fight with the rising Dark Lord. The other doesn’t realize that Grindelwald and Newt happen to be soulmates. Even if Newt hates the circumstances that are wrought upon them, he isn’t completely sure he can fight his soulmate while he feels so utterly powerless at the moment. “Well, I don’t blame you, in your shoes, I’d probably refuse too. It’s late. Good evening, Newt.”

Dumbledore disappears with a snap of magic.

“Oh, c’mon!” Newt exclaims, throwing his arms up in defeat. The older’s empty glove returns with the the business card in hand and tucks it into his breast pocket. The auburn haired man is irked to say the least and manages to grumble, “Dumbledore…”

***

The freckled man returns to his humble abode in London. After the ordeal with the escaped baby Nifflers and addressing the Kelpie’s wound, Bunty and Newt hear a crash from above the basement.

“What was that?” His assistant’s voice shakes with fear as they gaze upwards, the faint echoes of footsteps wandering around upstairs.

A pensive look on his face, the magizoologist answers, “I don’t know, but I want you to go home now, Bunty.”

“Shall I call the Ministry?”

“No, I want you to go home now. Please.” Newt sneaks up the stairs, careful not to make any undue sounds until he is able to see who has decided to drop in on his house uninvited. He’s not sure what to expect when he pushes the door leading to his living quarters open.

Jacob Kowalski and Queenie Goldstein are standing in the middle of his living room, suitcases scattered on the floor next to them. His blonde friend has an air of nervousness mixed with excitement, whereas Jacob seems to be inebriated and is currently bumbling about with the broken pieces of a vase that originally decorated a table close by.

The younger Goldstein sister is fluttering around her beloved, trying to retrieve the damaged parts so she could fix them with magic, “If you could just give it me… Just give it to me, sweetie. Just hand it over. Oh!”

The couple notice Newt’s presence as they spot his head peeking around the corner. Jacob blurts out with undisguised elation, dropping the remnants of the vase without a care, “HEY, NEWT! Get over here, you maniac!”

He flings his arms around a delighted, but surprised Newt. Queenie gives him a grin, looking sheepish at their sudden appearance.

“We hope you don’t mind, Newt? We let ourselves in; it’s raining cats and dogs out there! London’s cold.”

The redhead barely shrugs before he faces the stocky man and says, “But you were supposed to be Obliviated!”

“I know!” The Muggle says, but his features show no sign of shock or disbelief.

“So-- but--” Newt fumbles for the right words to say in a situation like this.

Jacob is quick to break the awkward conversation with his account, “It didn’t work, pal. I mean, you said it, the potion only erases bad memories. I didn’t have any. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I had some weird ones. But this angel… this angel over here, she filled me in on all the bad parts, and here we are, I guess?”

“This is wonderful!” He looks around for Tina, but doesn’t find her. “Where’s Tina?”

“Oh, it’s just us, honey. Me and Jacob.” Queenie tells him.

“I see.”

The room descends into silence before the blonde witch’s sweet voice tears through it, “Why don’t I make us some dinner, huh?”

“Yes!” Jacob shouts, loud and unruly, almost causing Newt to flinch back at the volume. The younger Goldstein observes the dark circles underneath Newt’s normally brilliant green eyes and his slightly sunken in cheeks; his face is more angular than she remembers when she last saw him in New York and it seems like his clothes don’t fit quite as well. The blonde witch notes this in the back of her mind to bring up later.

Once the woman finishes preparing a meal for three, she abruptly states, “Tina and I aren’t talking.”

“Why?” Newt glances up from his meal, making momentary eye contact with her, before looking to the right.

“Oh well, you know, she found out about Jacob and I seeing each other and she didn’t like it, ‘cause of the ‘law.’” Queenie imitates her sister’s voice, mockingly, “Not allowed to date No-Majs, not allowed to marry them. Blah, blah, blah. Well, she was all in a tizzy anyway, ‘cause of you.”

“Me? Why would she be in a tizzy over me?”

“Yeah, you, Newt. It was all over Spellbound. Here: I brought a copy for you.” She summons the magazine titled ‘Spellbound: Celebrity Secrets and Spell Tips of the Stars!’ and Newt’s face is plastered on the cover. The headline reads: ‘BEAST TAMER, NEWT, TO WED!’ The magazine flips open to a picture of Theseus, Leta, Newt, and Bunty standing side by side at his book launch. In the photo, Leta is standing close to him, a hand resting on his shoulder with a soft smile spread over her full lips. Queenie points at the magazine and reads, “‘Newt Scamander with fiancée, Leta Lestrange; brother, Theseus; and unknown woman.’”

“No, no, they got it wrong. Theseus is the one marrying Leta, not me.” He denies, still observing his non-magical friend’s odd actions.

“Oh! Oh dear… Well, see, Teenie read that and she started dating someone else. He’s an Auror. His name’s Achilles Tolliver.” Newt fails to see how Tina’s dating life is pertinent to him, but he doesn’t interrupt his female friend. Jacob and Queenie trade a look before laughing at the man’s last name. A pregnant silence ensues, but then Newt wants to talk about Jacob’s tumultuous behaviour: eating sloppily, humming to himself, and then attempting to drink from the salt shaker. Queenie quickly proceeds to cover for him, snatching it, and replacing it with a glass.

“Anyway… How have you been doing, Newt? I hope New York isn’t still haunting you. You don’t look so well, honey.” She confesses, forehead wrinkled in concern.

“I’ve been well, everything’s good.” Newt brushes off her concerns with a dismissive wave of his hand, but the blonde Legilimens is unconvinced, even if she chooses not to press. She attempts to delve into his thoughts, but they are in such a disarray that she gets a headache from trying to sort through them. Instead, she is only able to feel the most prominent emotions -- despair and confusion. Her immaculate brows pull up further, but a look from Newt tells her not to go further with her line of questioning. Queenie respects his judgment.

“Okay, well… We’re real excited to be here, Newt. This is a-- well, it’s a special trip for us. You see, Jacob and I, we’re getting married!” She showcases her engagement ring and Jacob tries to toast with this cup, but ends up pouring the beer all over his head.

“I’m marrying Jacob!” The man bellows and there is no doubt in his mind now that Queenie has managed to bewitch his friend and he levels her with a fierce glare. He knows she is capable of reading his mind and he uses this to his advantage, You’ve enchanted him, haven’t you?

“What? I have not.” She replies as she hears the first coherent thought pass through his consciousness.

“Will you stop reading my mind?” Newt says aloud, but he is still speaking to her mentally.

Queenie, you’ve brought him here against his will.

“Oh, that is an outrageous accusation. Look at him. He’s just happy. He’s so happy!” Queenie is affronted by the implications of his thoughts. He returns her statement with a disbelieving look.

Newt draws his wand out from his pocket and points it at the dark-haired male, “Then you won’t mind if I--”

Queenie jumps in front of Jacob, trying to shield him from his line of sight. “Please don’t!”

“Queenie, you’ve got nothing to fear if he wants to get married. We can just lift the enchantment and he can tell us himself.”

Several painful moments elapse and at last, she moves aside, her gaze downturned in a sense of shame.

“What you got there? Whatchu gonna do? Whatchu gonna do with that, Mr. Scamander?” Jacob teases, a grin stretching his face wide.

“Surgito.”

Jacob reacts as though a bucket of cold water has just been poured over his head, shaking, and a cloud of pink smoke forms into the shape of a heart above his head, still wet from the beer. He comes to his senses and glances around, confused.

“Congratulations on your engagement, Jacob.” Newt announces and Jacob’s wide brown eyes stare at him.

“Wait, what?”

Newt looks at Queenie and Jacob turns to see his beloved standing adjacent to him.

“Oh no.” He realizes he has been taken against his will. Slowly, he gets to his feet and she reads his mind. With a sob, she runs to close her case, but her lipstick and a fragment of torn postcard fall out. She then proceeds to flee the apartment. “Queenie!”

Jacob glances back and forth between the departing witch and his close friend, debating on who to address first, “Uh, it’s very nice to see you. Where the hell am I right now?”

“Oh, um, London.”

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to go here!” His voice carries infinite amounts of frustration, before he stomps out, chasing after Queenie with another cry of her name.

***

Queenie dashes out of Newt’s house and down the street, tears streaking her cheeks. Jacob runs after her, his face red and livid, and it colours his tone as he asks, “Queen, honey. I’m just curious, when were you going to wake me up? After we’d had five kids?”

The blonde whips around and nearly growls uncharacteristically, “Why is it wrong to want to marry you?”

“Okay--” Jacob attempts to butt in, but the woman barrels forward.

“To wanna have a family? I just want what everyone else has, that’s all.” Her eyes are shimmering with more tears, such a beautiful blue, despite the dim lighting of the street. They stare despondently at one another.

“Okay, wait. We talked about this, like, a million times. If we get married and they find out, they’re gonna throw you in jail, sweetheart. I can’t live with that. They don’t like people like me getting married to people like you. I ain’t a wizard. I’m just me.”

“They’re real progressive here in England and they’ll let us get married proper.” She is shaking as she explains how the culture and laws in Britain are not as backwards as they are in America. The man approaches her and wipes a solitary tear from her cheek.

“Sweetheart, you don’t need to enchant me. I’m already enchanted! I love you so much.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but I can’t have you risking everything like this, you know? You’re not giving us a choice, sweetheart.” Jacob counters, almost pleading her to understand how tough this is for him as well.

“You’re not givin’ me a choice. One of us had to be brave and you-- you were being a coward!”

“I was being a coward? If I’m a coward, you’re a--” The Muggle cuts himself off, but it’s already too late because Queenie has read his mind.

“-- Crazy!”

“... I didn’t say it.”

“You didn’t have to…”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that, sweetheart.”

“Yeah…” Queenie is forlorn as she responds, “You did.”

“No!” He tries, but she has shifted away from his reach and is almost running away from him. He can hear the pain in her voice as she says her next words.

“I’m gonna go see my sister.”

“Fine, see your sister.” The mustached man is exhausted from proving his case and he gives in.

“Fine.” There is a sense of finality in her tone and Jacob instantly regrets everything he’s said as Queenie vanishes from the streets of London.

“No, wait! No, Queenie! I didn’t mean it… I didn’t say nothing…” But he is alone on the street.

***

Newt is conflicted, miserable at causing such a ruckus, but he catches sight of a torn up postcard. He crosses the room to pick it up and then mutters, “Papyrus Reparo.”

The ripped pieces come together and mend; it shows a beautiful landscape somewhere in Paris. The neat handwriting on the back says:

My dear Queenie, What a beautiful city. I’m thinking of you, Tina X

He can only imagine that the reason Tina is in Paris in the first place is because she is looking for Credence. Just like so many other people are and he can’t help but be concerned for the boy’s well-being. As soon as Jacob arrives back at his residence, the two pack up and head to Paris as well.

***

Only moments ago, Grindelwald has procured his new hideout in Paris, after killing the occupants of the house. Following the months of his imprisonment, he hasn’t felt quite up to par to his usual self, but it’s nothing that affects or worries him all that much. The pale platinum-haired man has spent much time fascinated with the seemingly weak magizoologist -- the one responsible for his capture -- but after the events in New York, he knows that appearances can be all too deceiving. An uncontrolled vision hits him as he is contemplating how to go about approaching Credence at the circus.

He Sees Newt sitting uncomfortably at a table, fumbling through a meal, with another man who resembles him in some ways and a dark-skinned female, pretty and elegant, but wholly not his definition of beautiful. He is sure this witch is known as Leta Lestrange. Grindelwald only catches the tail-end of their conversation, but he can tell that they are discussing soulmates.

“-- we’ve noticed the strangest phenomenon recently. It feels like we’ve grown stronger, in a magical sense. And when we’re physically too far apart for too long, we can feel it dampening.” Leta explains, gesturing wildly, and it is easy to put the situation Newt and himself in perspective after hearing this. There is a white flash of light, subtle and delicate, and then, his vision changes to Newt conjuring up his Patronus to send a message to someone. The thing that captivates the Dark Lord’s focus is the fact that the animal that is invoked is not some common, non-magical beast, but rather an extraordinary Kelpie. The curly haired wizard speaks in soft words, mentioning someone called ‘Bunty,’ before the Kelpie lends him a nod and bounds off to deliver the message.

Grindelwald returns to reality, slightly befuddled from the experience as he usually is. A Patronus that appears in the form of magical creature is so exceedingly rare that he thinks, How interesting this soulmate of his is.

#grindelnewt #gellert grindelwald #newt scamander #fanfiction #fantastic beasts #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fanfic #theseus scamander #leta lestrange #queenie goldstein #jacob kowalski #soulmate!au #soulmate!au where you see black and white until meeting them #let the angst continue #grindelnewt fanfiction #crimes of grindelwald #splashes of colour

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