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bookwyrminspiration · 3 years ago

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So. Chapter 11. I have many thoughts.

First things first, absolutely amazing, every interaction the characters had felt so natural and fit together so well, and gosh I just...do not have the words to describe how much I adore your writing.

Now time for what I'm here for: you've got me all fired up again! It's been quite a hell of a while since I've done any real theory or predictions, so I might be slightly out of practice, forgive me if I get any details wrong!

And I don’t really know what all of it means yet, but let’s try to get the simple facts laid out first:

Bronte and Oralie send cryptic messages.

Sophie finds a dragon scale in a random desk.

Linh has a connection to the dragons, like Marella.

Dragons are connected with thunderstorms.

So, are we getting dragon!Linh? Because I am so here for dragon!Linh. At the very least, there’s some connection between them. But there’s…something else.

So, the messages from Oralie and Bronte are absurdly cryptic, and that’s so fucking cool and I love it, but I really really want to dig into what they’re saying now. So that’s what I’m gonna do!

Bronte’s message: Secrecy and redundancy compose the toolkit of those trying to hide. It takes a special someone to see the darkness in the world and not participate. Your infectious light is spreading.

Oralie’s message: Secrecy and redundancy compose the toolkit of those trying to hide. Play a melody for me, and tell me what it says. History will have something sweet to say about you.

And you (via Sophie) put a special focus on the words “infectious light” and “history”.

And I will eat my boots if that is not connected to some grand underlying secret underneath the entire story. Now, given that these two are Councillors and have access to confidential files, and Bronte as old as dirt, and the focus on the word history, I’m willing to bet there’s some dark secret within elven history (shocker, I know) that somehow relates to all this monster business. Cause like…it’s hard to make monsters! It’s crazy that the Neverseen and whatever the new group is called have managed to make so many!

(And I haven't figure out the Secrecy and Redundancy part yet, but I will tell you when I think I may have understood it.)

And what’s even weirder is how easy it was for Sophie and the rest of the kids to develop specific monster traits instead of just. Literally dying. And from weird potion mist, too.

Is there something about elves that allows them to turn into monsters? We know the monsters are unnatural, and when I’ve brought up the idea that elves are being turned into monsters you haven’t really denied or confirmed it, just kind of skirted around the topic. And this could also be the reason the humans haven’t been attacked by the monsters- the monsters are made of elves because elves are…somehow compatible with whatever the Neverseen are doing, and they attack other mythical creatures because I’m assuming they share traits similar enough to elves that the monsters have an interest in them.

But it’s also weird how Bronte’s letter (while actually being kind of a compliment, which I find so funny because it absolutely does not read like it, 100/10 characterization points) implies Sophie is spreading something, something infectious, and I’m sure the usage of the word “light” isn’t coincidence either.

Light is really important to elves, like really important, and it doesn’t seem like something Bronte would say, either, what with his…seeming respect for it (from how he acted when at the Point of Purity and journey back). He’d more likely say something like “bravery” or “strength”, given that (iirc) he’s even used those words to describe Sophie before. So there’s something about the word light specifically that was important, and something about the light being infectous.

And now, elves are living underground. And the monsters were said to appear out of nowhere, too, just…out of the blue. Are the Neverseen using the light to create more monsters? What are the monsters for? Can they turn whatever they’re doing off? Are the Council somehow aware of what the Neverseen is doing because they have access to lots of knowledge the main crew don’t, and that’s part of why they fled underground?

And what’s the connection with the dragons?

(I nearly forgot about the dragons.)

From what you’ve posted, you seem to really enjoy the part of dragons that is unknowable and out-of-reach, so much greater than pretty much every other creature in the world. And that also sounds like a way you could describe the void!

And if dragons could access the void, then that would explain how they appear and disappear so fast, and if they control weather that would be how the thunderstorms don’t come in over the horizon, and simply just happen.

But what does it mean? Why did Marella go to them in…what chapter was it again? I can’t remember. Why did Linh react to strongly to the dragon scales?

And Marella may have the wings, but Linh has the scales on her face (although iirc they’re a different color to the one Sophie picked up, so I don’t think it’s hers and I don’t see why she’d attack if it was), so is she a dragon as well? And if they are, are they different kinds of dragons? And since dragons are extremely territorial (from what we’ve seen and can infer so far) is that going to create problems? Linh already reacted terribly to another scale, so if her and Marella’s dragon instincts get worse, I can see how that would go terribly. Or is Linh a different kind of creature?

There’s just…so many thoughts. I barely got into any actual theories here, oops. But that’s…most of my thoughts for now. Hope you enjoyed? I know I personally enjoyed Chapter 11 immensely, thank you for this wonderful AU!

- pyro

woa this is a lot!! pyro!! i am speechless!! I am. I am ahhh!!! I'm glad the interactions felt natural, I was a little worried they'd feel too out of character but sometimes my need to let them mess around with each other takes over

those first four facts you've laid out do seem to be what I'm hinting at--whether you're correct though, I'll let you find out in later chapters. I have more to say about Bronte and Oralie's messages but I'll get to that later. also, I do have more planned for the dragons, which will be fun!!

will be entirely honest i forgot you all don't know what wings Linh has--but!! her connection to the dragons may be related to her wings! everyone has a pair of wings unique to them, so how that translates to her remains to be seen. Marella with the dragon wings and the interests may seem more obvious, but I think Linh is gonna have a lot more mysterious, confusing connection to the way everything works.

Now! onto Bronte and Oralie's messages!! these stumped me for a while because I needed them to be cryptic, but also riddle-like with some kind of meaning that sophie could figure out if she gave it enough thought. of course, as of chapter 11 she hasn't even tried to figure it out, but it's planted that seed in her mind

a cool thing that I just want to point out: there are a few lines throughout the au that i have taken the structure of directly of from the books and altered their wording. One of those was in a previous chapter where I took the "but her mind was stronger than her body" from book one and changed it. I don't remember exactly what i changed it into as it's been a while, but I know that's one of them. and i did it again in this chapter! if you remember the message Bronte had Mr. Forkle give Sophie, "It takes a special someone to see darkness inside of someone and not condemn them," that's the quote I based his unique portion of the message off of. Oralie's also has a meaning tied to an interaction with her, but it's not tied to a specific quote.

for the "infectious light," you are right, that does have a meaning, and it was important it was those exact words. what it turns out to be, however, may not be entirely what you're expecting. and then there's the "history will have something sweet to say about you" which is a little hint to Sophie, whenever she figures that one out. they are trying to send her a message but she needs to figure out what they're trying to say first!! also, the secrecy and redundancy part does have something more to it, but I'll let you continue theorizing about that one.

my apologies if i'm focusing on this part for too long, but I legit spent like half an hour trying to figure out how to word this to set up future scenes and reveals, so I want to share some of that process!

and it is curious how the elven world is the only one affected...

there's a lot of theories for why it was so easy for them to develop those features, maybe their minds adapt to abilities so suddenly that they're predisposed to other changes as well, or they go quicker. maybe it's fragile, guilty minds that enable them to be taken over by horrors like these, whereas humans are exposed to violence and guilt and grief on a daily basis. I might touch on this later in the chapters, so I don't want to spoil anything, but there so many possibilities!!

moving on to the dragons!! you're right, i do think very highly of dragons and like the inachievability of them in this context. they're not just mindless creatures, they're a lot more complex, as we saw with them having abilities like elves. Sophie doesn't know exactly what it was, but she thinks it was tied to the explosive sounds she heard and the change in the weather. and I could tie them to the void! if we going with intelligent creatures having access to the void (like silveny, though her intelligence is very different) then it would make sense to continue that pattern. and it could explain a few of the mysteries left behind after chapter 7 (6? i forget which one)

like i mentioned before, I do have more planned for the dragons, and that does involve both Linh and Marella specifically. so!! I think some of your questions will be answered in the upcoming chapters, but for now I can't exactly answer without spoiling. but! you are asking the right questions!! you are on the right track!!

and it wasn’t exactly scales on linhs face, more they had they same pattern (the iridescent one) but I might've worded it weird so I can see where that came from. as for whether or not she's a dragon, the only thing I can tell you right now is that she doesn't have the exactly same wings as Marella, and i told you in chapter 9 (i think?) that she could easily hide them like Sophie, Wylie, and Biana. The whole mystery with the scale, however, is one of the things that i can't answer without spoiling, so I guess that tells you there's a lot more to that too.

i also have so many thoughts about the au and !! I loved reading all of yours!! I enjoyed it thoroughly!! chapter 11 may seem slower than some of the more action packed chapters, but it sets up a lot of the lore and background we'll need for future endeavors, so i'm glad you liked it!! I think i introduced a lot of questions in this one too...

I might've missed some of your points (there were a lot, which is excellent!!), so if there was something important I glossed over feel free to send another ask so I can go back over it!!

but thank you for reading this au!! talking about it motivates me to write more and make it more complex!! I mean, we're about 84,000 words in and I'm still going, so. there's a lot more to come!!

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violetsystems · 4 years ago

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#personal

As promised, I am projecting less frustration this morning. I think maybe just because the rhythm of things in my life. I read that ritual during the pandemic has been a reliable coping mechanism for many. I have very small rituals. I get a bowl of Yukejang from down the street on Sundays. Same order. Same price. I tap it into a spreadsheet somewhere in the cloud and plan around it. All the way back in September, I chiseled out a budget for myself to figure out how to weather out this situation. The situation as it is continues to morph and shift towards the edges of chaos. This is why I try to keep things normal through planning and maybe a little ritual. I’ve been writing the same three paragraphs here for too many years for me to count. There are actually people out there who get what I’m saying. Sometimes people just like to read them. Other people just like to skim them. But these rituals kind of keep the element of control over your life in focus. Some rituals can go a little overboard. And sometimes some pandemics can go longer than a year. I try to plan for the future all the same without having much to go on. I know that a vaccine needs to happen first. At this point I won’t see that until earliest June. I’ve been seeing jobs in my salary range but nothing I want to spend the rest of my life doing. I’ve made enough money by myself this year to worry about paying taxes. But it isn’t something I really feel is sustainable. And this is where thoughts start to spiral out of control. Which is what brings me back to rituals. I make it through week to week in probably one of the most bullshit situations by looking forward to things. Broadcasting on Fridays is fun even if nobody watches it live. I’ve learned that creating content for output is more important than worrying about the results. For all the intelligent words I write, a lot of the things that come out of my actual mouth on the fly are incredibly stupid and funny to me. I like that that brings me down to earth somehow. Because most of the time I’m wondering if I’m even visible to the naked eye. You can fade away into your own self doubt even if you seem the most confident and together person. This can happen because the world ceaselessly throws shade. People don’t want you to succeed because it complicates things. Doesn’t fit into whatever plan or main questline you haven’t been briefed on. These days I’ve grown less sensitive to suggestion. I follow my own path and rules no matter what feelings it evokes. And yes I feel a sense of dread more often than not. I feel actual mental pain quite often. And that pain doesn’t come from inside of me or the result of things I do other than work out or ride my bike. The pain is the pressure from society to put it all on you. People out there are just as confused, lost and fearful. To have some sort of closure or something to blame lifts that temporarily. It’s not always true. Paranoia and isolation does that to people. Even to me. So I like to focus on the sacred parts of my life that I’ve kept to myself. And ritual keeps me in a predictable mood. That you keep going on week to week because you’ve created space that you and you alone value.

Sometimes other people value it too. And that gets tricky to manage. It isn’t really in my best interest to be at odds with society all the time. I am a loner mostly because I grew up an only child. But I’ve become a lot less sensitive as a result of whatever crucible of destiny I’ve been forged in. I think sometimes when you walk the path of ritual, it’s easy to stay in your lane. For me, for all these years I’ve been doing pretty much the same exact thing in real life often. Mostly to not cause anyone cognitive dissonance enough to fuck with me. Society is a nightmare anywhere you are it seems. Chicago can be batshit insane. It makes me project that like a mirror sometimes when I’m exhausted. And the things that keep me going aren’t always there front and center to hold my hand. I’m tough enough at this point to take it. But it’s a lot of disappointment to live with. The ritual of having a salaried job working with people who seemed pretty much like they were your friends was disrupted by all this a year ago. I got ghosted. I never really understood why. Over the months, I blamed myself over and over again. And then I started to realize people were hopelessly locked within themselves. They couldn’t communicate anything meaningful so they just decided to let it go entirely. Or I did. Communication to me over the years is funny. Sometimes people say the most to me without saying any words. If you walk away from a job after twenty years and everyone you work with pretends you never existed that’s a message. The opposite is true. If you wake up every morning to cryptic interactions on your phone that probably means something too. If you write three paragraphs every week for three years on the internet to nobody in particular, it’s true somebody will read it. Maybe somebody will even have the reading comprehension to enjoy it. The ritual of it is pretty sacred to me. I think people know me well enough to realize I err on the side of authenticity. I don’t like to betray the things that keep me going. I know how it feels to be betrayed. It sounds so cold saying that. But I’m sure we all know it to a certain degree. Some people get so abandoned that they have no choice but to move forward. And how you keep yourself moving at a regular pace in these times is anybody’s guess. Sanctuary is something more than ritual. It’s a space where you feel safe enough to protect the things that keep you alive. A safe spot to pursue your life, liberty and happiness despite the world’s encroaching bullshit around you. After years of pacing the streets here people have varying opinions of me and my rituals. It’s not the most ideal situation by far. But if anyone knows anything about maintaining sanctuary in one of the world’s most in your face cities, it is me. I’ve been to New York enough to know. Chicago is some sort of nightmare zone mix of both coasts. It’s also still fairly affordable to live. It’s also fairly free enough to go about your business with more than a few stares. People are bored, hungry, and anxious. People are looking for rituals and ideas for their own. And sometimes people cross the line of sanctuary and the holy ground gets smaller. I can’t even take out my trash without a dirty look sometimes. And I have to manage it just the same. When I shut the door and mutter to myself about politics and the government or whatever, nobody comes knocking. Or I’m over it quick enough so nobody does. Kind of like here. The good news is spring is here. I can open up the windows and listen to music alone. I can continue to work on my search for meaningful employment wherever that may take me. I honestly think after all this time someone has better ideas on where I belong.

That somebody has most always had to be me. I had to take the initiative in this entire situation. And it’s become something else entirely. I build rituals around that. Some outdated rituals I retire. Kind of like how I was. I used to travel to New York every couple of months before this all went to shit. I think I may go back this summer for a few days. I don’t really have a solid answer for the future in my head. I’ve had more time to enjoy things. I spend way more time learning how to block in Tekken and it actually becomes a whole new game. I could be harassing people in public and on the internet but I’d rather just keep to myself. I am lonely just like anyone would be in this situation. But people communicate with me just the same. And it’s on me to value it enough to interpret whether it’s worth my time. I keep hearing the president proclaim that July will mark our independence from the virus. It’s ironic. I was let go two days before the fourth last year. Still nursing those wounds as you would expect. Simply because there’s no closure. No acknowledgement of anything. And this is what I’ve had to read into. I’m on my own in this. And then again I’m not. I’ve led myself through an absolute shit show daily. And I’ve maintained sanctuary enough to keep doing it. The rituals and sacred things I hold dear are protected by the reputations I uphold. The moral capital I reserve is the real hard work. Because often I would like nothing other than to go apeshit in the face of all this misunderstanding and hallucinatory bullshit. It’s like being a celebrity and a pariah at the same time. Banging your head against the wall trying to read into everybody’s sudden interest in whatever it is you represent in real time. I don’t really know what people want from me at all. And in some ways it doesn’t matter here in America. This is what I’ve come to realize in some respects about freedom. It’s complex, messy and not easily managed efficiently. And yet no other country in the world has this many layers to navigate. If you hold your ground long enough, nobody dares cross the line. I mean nobody. For as funny, sardonic and self deprecating as I can be, people are still ultimately scared shitless of me. I’ve grown to understand that and work on that as best I can in a bullshit situation. And through that I’ve found that staying true to the things you love and care about require meditation. Self awareness and self care are the only weapons to guide you through a process that is meant to break your individual will. I could blame capitalism. I could blame the government. I could unite and tear down the very fabric of society that has kept me invisible and be forgotten all over again. And then I realize both sides are to blame mostly because nobody is really talking to anyone. Entire political parties acting like they meet you eye to eye on the street when everyone has their head slung down low at every moment of the day. And I’m not exactly interested in inviting more people into my life to violate my already questionable boundaries of privacy. Rituals give us the focus to concentrate on the things that really matter to us. Maybe they help us define what is sacred to us. If people respect that the sanctuary grows. If people challenge, question or hijack the narrative, you write them out of the story. It’s definitely easier to control the pen when nobody is on your back to tell you how to write your dreams. I wholeheartedly want that for everybody. A real sanctuary for people to be themselves. It’s not easy to manage. But where ever I end up I know want thing is true. I will always keep things sacred when it comes to you. <3 Tim

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lia-jones · 4 years ago

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Growing Pains - Chapter Sixteen - Dummy

I finally managed to pull the zipper of my dress without tearing apart the lace on the bodice. I looked at myself in the mirror, wondering if this was the perfect attire for dinner. Cryptical as he sometimes could be, I could never exact what Victor really meant most of the time. I sighed. The dress I had picked would have to do, a short rose lace A-line dress with an illusion neckline. Dark grey high heels to match it. Not too “date night”, not too professional either.

Judging from everything we had lived, and knowing the circumstances that we were in, I wasn’t inclined to believe this was more than friendship. Perhaps Victor just wanted someone to enjoy the city with him, and I was nearby. However, I could guess a much better company would be just a phone call away. It was confusing, like most things concerning Victor. Keep it simple, Andrea, stop reading into things. It’s dinner, I thought to myself. But my heart was thumping hard, no matter what I told myself.

I had no time to wonder or ponder anymore, as I looked at the clock and it was already 6:55 pm. I had five minutes to get to the lobby, fully aware that Victor would be moody if I was late. I got my things and opened the door to leave, only to find Victor in the hallway, hand raised, prepared to knock on my door.

“Hey.” I greeted him, slightly startled. “I was just going to the lobby to meet you.”

“No need. I just got ready.” Victor seemed to be in a good mood. “Let’s go.”

We got in the car and the driver took us through the city, pulling near the Eiffel Tower. Victor got out of the car immediately, and before I got the chance to, he opened the car door for me, offering his hand to help me out. Seeing me out of the car, Victor closed the door and motioned the driver to leave.

“Shall we?” Victor offered his arm for me to take, smiling.

I smiled and took his arm, as we walked towards the Eiffel Tower. As we got closer, I realized where we were going.

“Jules Verne?” I asked.

“Yes. One of the best views in Paris, and outstanding food. I trust you’ll like it.”

The restaurant was not as refined as I predicted, but it was still very elegant, and Victor was right, the view over Paris was magnificent. We were led to a table near the window, and I felt like I was floating over the city. The waiter came to take our order, and Victor took over, asking for the tasting menu, and for the waiter to bring the wine right away.

We sat in silence for a while, as I sipped my wine and enjoyed the view.

“God, look at the moon. It’s beautiful.” I said, looking through the window “The view is amazing.”

“Breathtaking.” I heard Victor’s soft voice. I turned to him and smiled, only to see that he was staring at me. Reading me. Like he needed to memorize every detail on my face. I faced him, slightly embarrassed.

“Thank you for bringing me here. Although I don’t think I deserve the reward, I barely worked at all.”

“This is not about work, and tonight I am not your boss. We will not discuss work today.” Victor leaned slightly forward on the table. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“What’s there to know? I’m pretty ordinary.”

“I’ve seen you disarm a man in less than 30 seconds. That’s not ordinary at all.”

“Krav Maga. Obviously, an overcompensation. It just came in handy this time.” I shrugged.

“Still, although incredibly stupid, it was impressive.” Victor looked me in the eyes, hiding his smile with his glass of wine. “What other hobbies do you have? Do you play other sports?”

“Just Krav Maga and some Yoga. How about you?”

“I run, whenever I can. I also enjoy swimming, horseback riding, golf. When the weather allows it, I go rock climbing.”

“None of those are team sports. You really enjoy your solitude.” I remarked.

“I deal with enough idiots at work. I like some time for myself.”

“Yet you are here with me. You could’ve easily ditched me at the hotel.” I teased.

“You’re not an idiot.” Victor suppressed a smile.

“Oh, do I sense a compliment?” I recalled our talk at the ball.

“Just because you sometimes act like an idiot, it doesn’t mean you’re one. Besides, last time I called you an idiot I was severely reprimanded. I tend to play safe, now.” He couldn’t hide his cocky smile now. I laughed.

“To be honest, I really wanted to keep you as far as I could back then.” I made a face.

“What about now?” Victor eyed me carefully.

“You’ve shown some other layers of you. I did too. Things changed.” I walked around the question, trying not to spill the beans.

“You didn’t answer my question. How do you feel about me now?” He pressed, an expectant look on his face. For someone usually so cryptic, he was really acting forward. I decided to through caution to the wind and be just as direct.

“In all honesty, I find you hard not to love.” I stated, looking him in the eyes.

Victor’s face dropped and his eyes widened. He seemed to freeze in time for a while, if not for all the emotions I could see running behind his eyes. I could almost hear the circuits in his brain buzzing, overwhelmed with thoughts my honesty brought to light. He snapped out of it when the waiter came with our first course, clearing his throat. The dishes were served and we sat for a moment, staring at our food, the proverbial fog setting on our table.

My chest tightened with his lack of reaction. But I also felt some kind of relief. At least I knew where I was standing. And it wasn’t like I professed my undying love for him, or did something reckless like steal a kiss. I looked at Victor, who was still clearly uncomfortable and at loss for words, and cut a piece of the aspic on my plate, tasting it.

“Good.” I hummed in pleasure. “I’m not really a fan of aspic, but this is really good.”

Victor welcomed the change of subject, as he relaxed slightly, his expression becoming his usual poker face one.

“Yes, but just wait until they bring the braised salmon. It’s one of my favorite dishes here.”

“Can’t wait.” I said, smiling, trying to play it cool. “So, besides sports, what other hobbies do you have?”

“I read, listen to music, mostly classical, I cook.”

“I remember you said your mother was a pianist. Do you also play?”

“She taught me, but then I went to boarding school and my father considered it a waste of time, so I stopped.”

“It’s a shame. You have pianist fingers. I had to work extra hard, because, as my piano teacher would put it, I do not have the hands for the keys.” I said, showing him my small hands.

“You play the piano?” Victor frowned in surprise.

“Yes, since I was six. I learned the piano for 13 years, actually.”

“Thirteen years learning the piano is a very long time. You must be really good at it. What are your favorite pieces?

“Vivaldi, all four seasons. Grieg’s In The Hall of The Mountain King.” I hummed a bit of the tune and Victor nodded, recognizing it.

“Interesting choice.” Victor stated, seemingly impressed.

“Yes, I auditioned for the conservatory with that one.” I agreed. “It’s technically demanding, but it’s also very easy to visualize while playing it, it has a very natural rhythm. I like pieces that allow me to make up a story in my head while I play.”

“Why did you choose Economics instead? It seems like you had a very promising career as a musician.” Victor frowned.

“Mostly because I was tired. And you must surely know, your mother being a pianist, the kind of injuries you get when you have to practice hard on a daily basis. I had back and shoulder pain, my fingers would easily cramp with the cold… It was taking a toll on my health. I got accepted in the Conservatory, but then I also got admission to college, so I chose Economics instead.”

“Do you still play?”

“Not since I came to Loveland. I couldn’t fit the piano in my suitcase.” I joked, earning me a chuckle from Victor.

The initial awkwardness from my honest outburst seemed to fade gradually as we engaged in conversation. Victor kept asking me questions about myself, seemingly wanting to know me better and I complied, replying and asking Victor his perspective on all the subjects he brought up. Victor was incredibly sharp and knowledgeable, and the world around us seemed to fade away, and with it, time itself. When we noticed, the restaurant was almost empty.

“Shall I call the driver or do you want to walk back to the hotel, take a stroll, maybe?” Victor proposed.

“Walking would be nice. I would love to take a last look at the city.” I answered.

We walked in silence for a moment. Victor seemed to be lost in his own thoughts until he spoke again.

“What you said in the restaurant…” Victor stopped and turned to me, touching my arm. I felt self-conscious all of a sudden, avoiding his touch.

“There’s no need to make things awkward, Victor. I get it, I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry. You don’t need to worry about me, I’m a big girl. You are not forced to feel the same way.”

Victor closed the small gap between us, holding my upper arms. I was startled by the sudden proximity, and instinctively looked down.

“Look at me, Andrea.” His voice was soft yet demanding. I didn’t comply.

He leaned his forehead against mine, forcing me to face him, but even then I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze. I squirmed again and he tensed his grip, as in to say I wouldn’t go anywhere.

“Look at me.” He pleaded again. “I need you to look at me. Look me in the eyes, Andrea.”

I finally mustered the courage to face him, afraid of what I would see. His expression was a calm, loving one.

“Did I ever say I didn’t feel the same way?” I didn't know what to say. “How can you not see it?” I heard his hoarse voice again.

And like it was the most natural thing in the world, he leaned in and kissed me. It was a soft kiss at first, just enough to taste the wine in his breath and feel the softness of his lips. But it didn’t take very long for me to get totally addicted to his warmth. I pressed his body harder with mine, taking his face with my hand, wanting more of him, and suddenly the fire inside him became brighter. And hungrier.

It was like something broke, something that was helping him hold his emotions back, and he lost all self-control. He was all over me, deepening the kiss with unexpected passion, one hand clasping my curls in the back of my head, the other holding my waist for dear life. I was lost in his arms. Hopelessly open and vulnerable. Gone for good.

Victor broke the kiss panting, his eyes dark, his forehead touching mine. I achingly let go, and it took me a moment to regain my senses, only to find I couldn’t possibly utter a word. I was terrified that the faintest sound from me would break the spell, keep him away from me again, and now that I had a taste, I wanted this more than anything. Victor smiled softly, still holding me in his arms.

“Dummy.” He teased. “Not everyone wears their heart on their sleeve like you do.” He softly stroked my cheek. “But I trust now I have successfully shown you my intentions.”

“You did.” I smiled back. “Now let me show you mine.”

And I kissed him again, reigniting his fire, and instantly melting with its magical warmth.

#Growing Pains - Series #growingpains #mlqc victor #victor x oc #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc fanfic #love and producer #mister love queens choice

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its-freakinbats · 5 years ago

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heaven don’t have a name—q.b.

Requested by fandomizedtrash

A/N—I lost the actual ask because I am a clown, but the general idea was Quentin Beck attempting to seduce a (reader) SHIELD agent to further win the masses over in his attempt to become the world's greatest superhero. What happens when he starts to fall for her himself? (as far as a sociopath like him can fall, that is). I tried not to woobify him too much, (I mean he DID hold a gun to a sixteen year olds head and tried killing like three other minors, along with Fury and Hill, but the man’s a five course meal, so fan fiction I shall write).

Also, I am aware that I may have screwed up by making the air elemental first, as opposed to being the second one that attacks. That being said, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I had way too much fun with this one, friends and foes.

(I used a Jeremy Renner song title for this, what about it)

The energetic music blaring through the bar seemed to add to the uneasiness you felt as you lamented upon the past one more time.

The Avengers were effectively dead, and you still didn’t know what to do with that knowledge.

It had been just over a year since the Avengers had battled Thanos one last time and over a year since your life had drastically changed once again.

You weren’t too sure where your life had gone in the following months as you helped to rebuild the world from the ashes.

Or where it was headed, for that matter.

Despite the pretty words that had been said for your fallen teammates so long ago, it was still so difficult to grow accustomed to a world without them.

Steve, who you had grown to love as a sibling, had given up his life in this time to return to the world that had been taken from him. Last you heard, he was in Brooklyn now, living out his final days in silence. It had seemed he’d gotten the quiet life he’d always desired, something you envied.

Tony, whose heart and mind always competed for mastery over him, had led the final hurrah against Thanos with an act as simple as snapping his fingers. Tony, who had brought the world into the future more than once, just as his father before had done.

And then...Natasha.

Nat, who shouldered the responsibility of keeping the world together in it’s darkest time had given her soul itself, or so Clint had said. Nat, who you’d followed around like a happy pup in your first years at SHIELD, and who had taught you more about being apart of SHIELD than anyone else had. Nat, who you stayed up with most nights to try and fix every single problem during those five years, solved the biggest one by giving her life.

Even a year later, you still couldn’t move on and find purpose in the way that others had.

Thor was offworld with Rocket Raccoon’s crew after shirking his responsibilities as King. Last you heard, Brunnhilde was running the new Asgard like a well oiled machine.

T’Challa, who resumed carrying the same responsibility, was equally busy with restoring Wakanda to the power house that it had been revealed to be. Maybe give earth another long leap into the future, just as Tony had done.

Judging by the cryptic message that Sam and Bucky had left behind several months ago, they had decided to take it upon themselves to bring certain people to justice. An unrelated story a month later had informed you that Helmut Zemo had been declared missing from the Joint Counter Terrorist Center.

Clint and Scott were off with their respective families, each reveling in the retirement that they had sought for so long.

Rhodey followed in retirement, but still interfered as much as he could with what remained of Stark Industries. You thought you’d seen him flying around Manhattan once or twice, too.

Wanda had insisted on hiding out in the meantime, taking up teaching while she did so. You thought it suited her.

Even Carol, who was busy watching after the stars, hadn’t been heard from in months.

You wondered how Fury felt about that.

You couldn’t even begin to think about which dimension Doctor Strange was in at that moment; was he rebuilding elsewhere, too?

While you’d once been part of a team to keep the peace on earth, you were now following Fury and Hill in their attempts at making the world safer, as if there had been any threats in the fourteen months that had passed.

To say you didn’t feel needed anymore was an understatement.

Your finger ran around the rim of the glass as you recalled what had been your breaking point.

You had thought that sharing a celebratory bottle of bourbon with Rhodey had been much warranted, yet it resulted in you divulging your insecurities about the uncertain future. He was more than understanding, and you’d nearly cried when he’d spoken next.

“You’ve spent a year trying to go back to normal. We don’t even know what normal is anymore. Why don’t you try living in the new world?”

Fury, meanwhile, had other plans for you.

He’d stopped you on your way to the airport ticket counter in the middle of the night just shy of a week ago.

“Looking for a little vacation time?”

“Hard to believe that you’re not after everything that’s happened,” you had said. He had crossed his arms in a very Nick Fury way and replied, “Nick Fury doesn’t take vacations.”

You had laughed at that; however, when he had gifted you a mobile device and his usual no-nonsense stare, you knew that your vacation would have to be postponed. Even incognito, Fury still had the ability to frighten you.

Something about electro-magnetic pulses that Hill had noticed, and another lecture about how Earth still needed someone to look after it.

“Your team might be gone, but the idea of the Avengers isn’t. You got anything better to do?”

At risk of sounding like a petulant child, you wished it didn’t have to be you.

It wasn’t all bad, though; Morocco had quite a lot to offer.

You had briefly cursed Fury for taking away your opportunity for self-reflection, but he was right: you had nothing else to go to.

You would always be a part of SHIELD.

You’d always be an Avenger.

With that melancholic thought, you finished your second scotch of the night and slid off of the barstool.

Day two, and the energy pulses had remained stagnant.

‘So much for an otherworldly threat,’ you thought.

You shoved your hands in your pockets as you began to trail towards your hotel, not paying particular mind to the greying clouds in the sky.

It was when a gust of wind made you shiver that you stopped in your tracks.

A glance at your phone reminded you that it was due to be nearly 70 degrees that evening, with no chance of wind.

Or storms.

As you pocketed your phone, you observed the graying skies in the distance and the way the wind picked up.

A clap of thunder roared through the sky.

The uneasiness you had tried to quell with your trip to the bar reared its head once more; was Fury getting under your skin, or was there something more sinister hiding under the ground of Morocco?

Several more cracks of thunder sounded across the horizon, and you were thrown off by just how idyllic it had been just a little bit before.

Not a cloud in the sky, you had mused before entering the bar.

You pulled your hair back when the wind roared louder this time, and you happened to see a few teenagers warning each other in Arabic. Even with a very basic understanding, you gathered that they were telling each other to book it.

Your gaze shifted from the kids to the storm again, and you frowned. It couldn’t be Thor back, could it? His storms were always so much more...organized. This was unprecedented. Disorderly.

Was Fury right? Was it another extra-terrestrial attack?

You blanched at the thought of Thanos returning somehow.

Small groups of people slowly exited from the block you stood at, some of them muttering about the buzzkill weather.

Another, much larger gust of wind hit you, nearly throwing off your balance.

Your phone rang then, just as another loud crash of thunder was heard from the mass that grew in the sky.

“Energy pulse is rising. What do you see?” Fury said on the other end, as straight to the point as ever.

“Far from what the forecast predicted,” you breathed. “A massive stormcloud with the wind speed of something I’ve never encountered.” At that, you shivered as another long gust hit you.

“Marrakech isn’t known for tropical storms,” Fury pointed out. “And even if they were, they wouldn’t be giving off the kind of readings that this thing is. Keep your eyes up. I’ll do the same. If either of us see something, we alert the other ASAP, understood?” Fury concluded. You gave an affirmative before hanging up your phone. As you pocketed it, you furrowed your brow.

Why couldn’t the world go more than a year without some sort of cosmic disaster raining down on you all?

You reprimanded yourself for thinking Fury had no business sending you out this way.

He was absolutely paranoid, but he was right.

He was always right.

You gazed at the growing storm, and were taken aback by it as your eyes were able to properly register what it was. The maelstrom, if that’s even what you could call it, had arranged itself into a body. Moreover, it looked like it had a face.

You dropped your gaze long enough to observe the passers by in the area. While most of them were tucked into each other to avoid the freezing wind, you saw that a few were recording the unprecedented change in weather.

Your focus shifted to the area over which the amalgamation was hovering. You were no Clint, but you could see that people were still leisurely occupying the area.

You began jogging in the direction of the storm; you heard a few people telling you to turn away from the monster, but you ignored their cries to leave, and continued your trek.

Fortunately for you, there were very few tourists to actually escort from the area. Occasionally, you veered from you path to order people out of the area and to find a safe place, trying your best to sound calm.

As you neared the creature, the wind grew more and more violent, and you did your best to remain vigilant about the occasional sign that the wind had picked up.

You jogged from your route to approach a small group of people looking around wildly and speaking to each other frantically; one appeared to be trying to calm down a couple, and was speaking quickly in French.

“I need you to get out of here,” you said as you approached them, but half of the married couple stopped you.

“Mon fils!” the older woman cried as you approached her. “Où est mon fils? Mes Louis?”

You quickly calmed her as best as you could, and promised you’d find her son. When she refused to move from your side, you insisted that they find the nearest shelter. The boy’s mother stood for a moment, unwilling to leave her son behind. You felt your heart ache slightly at that, but you were adamant that they leave as soon as they could.

Another older woman informed you that the boy and his friend were last seen across the shopping center, right in the eye of the storm. You masked your cynicism, and thanked them for their time. The second woman nodded, and muttered reassuring things to the boy’s mother before leading her away.

Once they began to make their way in the opposite direction, you turned and started for the storm.

The closer you got to the maelstrom, the more things were being picked up. For a while, you did a pretty good job at avoiding tree branches and the like.

In your attempt to dodge a large remnant of a window, however, you managed to leap right into the path of more debris.

You grunted as the wood knocked you right to the ground. Pain blossomed on the right side of your face, and you had to brace yourself against the road before standing back up to continue your venture.

Just under one hundred feet from where the creature was hovering, you ended up in a small, seemingly abandoned market. You heard the sound of someone swearing in French, and looked around until you found a teenager not too much younger than Peter Parker.

He was clutching his phone angrily, and sitting on the ground as he tried to make a phone call.

His wet eyes found yours, and he seemed slightly hopeful.

This had to be the missing kid.

“Louis?” you asked.

He nodded again, before growing worried.

“Ma famille?” he asked frantically.

“Sûr,” you told him calmly, as you helped him up from his spot.

“Your family took shelter nearby,” you said, silently thanking Steve for the many French lessons he’d gifted you. “If you can’t find them, then get to safety before the storm gets here.”

The kid shook his head, his eyes going wide in panic.

“My...friend, Blase. He’s stuck,” the boy said.

Before you could ask him where the other kid was, Louis began to jump over debris to lead you to where the other boy was. In a nearby parking lot, you saw a boy around the same age laying on the ground. He groaned in pain as he gripped his thigh.

True to Louis’ word, you saw that the other boy was struggling underneath of the remnants of a roof. You kept your cool as you approached him, and you prayed to whoever was up there that the kid wouldn’t lose his leg in the middle of the storm.

Louis spoke gently to his friend, assuring him that you were there to help them out.

“Blase?” you said. The boy was fearful as he looked at you.

“I’m going to get you out of here, okay?”

He nodded stiffly.

“Louis, I need you lift as much as you can from that side,” you ordered. The boy was only too happy to help. You grabbed the other end of the wreckage and lifted as much as you could. You didn’t blame Louis for running away to get help. The thing was heavy.

Once you lifted it up substantially, you peeked under to see the state of his leg.

From underneath, you saw that the boy’s leg looked crushed. You kept your face even, not wanting to scare either of them.

“Can you move from under?” you asked, and you started to feel the weight from the debris grow heavy. Blase grunted, but wiggled his way out from underneath the roof. When he was far enough away, you told Louis to let go.

The two of you dropped it, and you rushed over to check the other teen’s injury.

“There’s nothing I can do for you here. I need you two to go back. Maybe find your family along the way, but definitely get medical assistance if you can.”

As if to emphasize your point, the creature roared again. Without missing a beat, you helped Louis pick up his friend, and helped adjust his weight accordingly.

“Thank you,” Louis said, and you nodded in response.

Blase opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing. You followed him to see what had surprised him so, and couldn’t believe the sight.

A newcomer had arrived on the scene, dressed in what you could only compare to Roman armor.

It wasn’t anyone you recalled from the attack on the Avengers base last year, and you didn’t seem to recognize him from SHIELD’s radar so many years ago.

You were mesmerized as he flew around the monster, striking it often with green bolts not unlike what Wanda produced. Who was it? It wasn’t often you were missing so many different variables in an equation like this.

You felt your feet inch you closer to the attack.

You pulled the gun from your holster, and warned the kids one last time.

“Go!” you said over the shrieking of the storm. Louis glanced between the gun, the storm, and you. Without another word, he adjusted his grip on Blase, and the two began their trek around the fallen trees.

As you turned around, you could practically hear Fury in your ear telling you to book it before you were crushed like a bug under the monster.

But God were you curious.

Perhaps this is what Hill meant when she said that interfering was your downfall.

You jogged to get as close as you could without catching the attention of the creature. The more you looked at it, the more perplexed you grew. Perhaps it was an alien? If Thor was real, there wasn’t any reason that the Titans from Greek mythology couldn’t be real, right?

The stranger in the sky must have caught you staring, for when he was close enough, he called over his shoulder.

“You need to stand back. I don’t want any casualties,” he ordered from behind his helmet. Your gun was repositioned in your hand and ready to fire.

“Standing back isn’t really in my job description,” you shouted over the wind.

“Do what you like, but a gun isn’t going to do very much in a situation like this!”

He kept his gaze on you for a few moments longer, before swooping around to narrowly dodge a hit from the monster. In his departure, the creature managed to spot you on the ground below him.

You jumped over the debris that lay scattered around the area, and narrowly ducked the fist of the creature. It wailed again, and you turned around to fire a shot into it.

To your dismay, the shot did nothing but piss the creature off. You could see the flying man’s helmet turn in your direction.

In his moment wasted to watch you, the creature attacked its nearest enemy.

It knocked the man to the ground, and began to follow where he landed.

Shit.

Unsure of what else to do, you decided to get it’s attention again.

“Hey! Earth’s had more than enough weird stuff the last ten years, thanks!” you shouted at the monster, unsure if it would actually hear you. It roared in your direction, and rather than run, you shot at it a few times. You hoped that the flying man would be able to get his bearings again, and soon.

You ran away from the creature, doing your best to keep it from destroying more of the city than it already had.

You jumped over the nearest car and ducked behind it, gun still ready.

You took a few moments to catch your breath. What would your next step be? Calling Fury? You thought it a bit overkill to send in so much help when you had the green guy helping you out.

Assuming he wasn’t completed demolished from landing on the ground as hard as he did.

A nearby roar was heard again, and you cursed.

You stood up and shot one more round into the creature.

It saw you, and began lifting up some parked cars to throw in your direction.

As you ran, you were able to duck the cars, but were caught off guard when you were knocked off of your feet by the monster itself.

You weren’t sure how far you were thrown, but you had managed to land in a field.

Your back took all of the weight as you landed, and you released nothing more than a strained gasp on impact. You felt the breathe leave your body and were unable to move for a moment.

As you struggled to prop yourself up on your forearms, you saw the creature was still turned toward you.

From behind it, however, you could see that the newcomer had gotten back up. With his gaze in your direction, you felt he was trying to communicate something to you.

You crawled over a few feet, and grabbed the gun that had fallen from your grasp. You fired what very well may have been the last round in your gun, and swore as the monster advanced on you faster.

‘Anytime, green guy,’ you thought.

As if on cue, green bolts of light went through the creature’s middle. The monster turned around to attack the newcomer, but it moved too slowly. An inhuman sound came from it, and it slowly moved its hands around to catch it’s antagonist.

It was futile, however, as more of the same green light came from the man’s hands in a steady stream. You watched in wonder as the creature roared a final, deafening roar.

It collapsed into nothing, and you slid the mostly empty gun into your holster.

As you pushed yourself up, you felt a groan build in your throat. You stumbled your way across the field and into the parking lot. Fortunately for you, you were able to collapse upon a fallen palm tree.

The pain that you’d been doing your damndest to ignore took over most of your senses; you’d thought that the adrenaline had masked most of the pain in your face, but that changed when you were thrown by the typhoon-thing. You hated to think of how it would feel once the adrenal fatigue hit you.

“Son of a bitch,” you swore after you moved your jaw around.

You felt, quite honestly, like shit.

As you admired the now clear skies, you saw the mystery man’s silhouette against the setting sun, until he was before you. As he got closer, he dropped and walked your way.

“You’re bleeding,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I noticed,” you said, resisting the urge to groan.

“Thanks for helping out,” he said then. “It was exciting to have an Avenger for backup.”

You were suddenly unsure of how he was able to see through his helmet.

“The Avengers don't exist anymore. Not in the way they used to,” you added, wiping your admittedly unsanitary sleeve at your head injury. “Or have you been living under a rock the last year?”

“Something like that,” he said with a hint of amusement. “Listen, are you okay? You seem like you’re pretty hurt. You took a pretty bad fall back there.”

“Uh, it’s...it’s nothing I haven’t felt before,” you stammered before attempting to stand up. You struggled slightly, and he offered a gloved hand to assist you. You took it, all the while suppressing a hiss.

“I know,” he replied. “If I remember correctly, you're the one who takes the most hits out of the group.”

You scoffed, and didn’t bother to hide the cynicism in your voice.

“Yeah, tell that to Tony Stark, or Natasha Romanoff. From what I hear, they got the worst of it.”

He didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, so the two of you fell into an awkward silence.

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t at risk of immediately dying. I should get going,” he said after a few moments, turning the other way. Just as he braced himself to fly, you caught his arm.

“Wait!”

He paused and turned to face you, and you let your arms drop to fall awkwardly at your sides while you spoke.

“You...I don’t know who you are.”

“Yeah, that’s probably true,” he replied.

You ignored his comment

“I mean...heroes aren’t masked symbols anymore. Heroes don’t get secret identities, not with—with governments and whatnot to monitor all of that now.”

“You’re right, they don’t. Not here, anyway,” was all he said.

You frowned, unsure of what he meant by that. Was he an alien, too? Was earth pulled into another inter-planetary dispute amongst aliens?

“So, what’s your game?” you asked, not bothering to hide your suspicion. He seemed to pick up on your tone pretty quickly.

“Look, I’m not here to join the Avengers, or get some sort of award,” he assured you after a moment. “I’m just trying to stop a threat I should have stopped sooner.”

That answered next to none of your questions.

“You know who I am. Why can’t I know who you are?” you pressed.

“That’s a long conversation. I’d prefer not to keep you out so late after all that’s happened.” There was a beat, and he spoke again.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Soleil.”

You frowned when he used your codename. No one had used it in a long time.

“Make sure to get looked at,” he reminded you, before turning away.

He flew away with a trail of forest green behind him, unknown to you and to the rest of the world.

You wondered where the guy had been this whole time. Who was he, and why was he just now emerging? Was he known to the other heroes, and you were just now catching wind of it?

As he disappeared from your line of sight, you turned your gaze back to the evening sky. As the sun set, the first few stars began emerging for the night, and you wondered just how many surprises this new world held.

The sound of a medical vehicle approaching surprised you, and you began the slow trek back to your hotel; you didn’t want to speak to anyone, not with the million questions that might be asked.

It was then that you felt another sharp sting as you breathed in.

Maybe he was right. You were hurting like a motherfucker just about everywhere.

●

Quentin sat on his bed while the rudimentary footage of the attack played over and over again on all of the major news networks; the first elemental had been pulled off without a hitch.

Without a major one, anyway.

He thought he’d been thorough when ensuring that the Avengers were nowhere to be found. As far as he was concerned, the Avengers were practically disassembled.

At first glance, he’d hardly recognized her. He’d wondered how she’d gotten all the way over to this part of the world with no backup tagging along.

What to do with a loose end like her?

Janice had called earlier, asking if the woman should be confined to the hospital under the guise of massive internal injuries.

Then, a thought struck him with the force of a lightning bolt— how the masses did love their superhero stories, and none was more heartbreaking than his. A battle-hardened warrior who had lost everyone who meant anything to him, as well as his home, no matter how hard he had fought to keep all of that?

How the sympathy and support would grow when he became involved with one of the original Avengers, someone just as broken and lonely as he was.

Someone who was disillusioned, and needed someone like him to give her hope.

“Keep an eye on her, actually,” he had said. “Let me know when she’s discharged, and try to find out where she’s staying,” he requested of his co-worker. “We could use someone like her.”

Then, he’d pondered just how he’d get her on his side. What did he know about her?

He knew she was the youngest to join, and did so during the Chitauri attack in 2012. He knew she had an affinity for blasters, something he noticed she was missing that evening. He also knew that she was one of the few original team members left.

The footage on the television continued to play, and he looked away briefly to answer a call from another coworker.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sending you the files you requested, and then some. Let me know if you need additional information,” Victoria said. Quentin pulled away to quickly scan his incoming mail.

The more he saw, the more he smiled.

“This should be plenty. Thanks,” he said appreciatively before hanging up.

He opened the first file, one that had been leaked when SHIELD was under fire back in 2014. He settled into the armchair as he started reading.

He had thought that maybe he’d have to add another casualty to his list, but the more he thought of the alternative, the more his smile twisted.

How poetic it was that it would be one of the Avengers who would ensure his acclaim with the rest of the world.

#Quentin Beck #quentin beck x reader #quentin beck x oc #mysterio #mysterio x reader #mysterio x oc #spiderman #spiderman: ffh #spiderman fanfiction #Avengers #avengers fanfiction #hdhan

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ciestessde · 5 years ago

Text

Phantasma Magica Ch. 10

STORY SUMMARY

Clockwork and the Observants send Danny to Hogwarts on a special mission. But, cryptic as ever, that Old Stopwatch never actually told him what would happen on it!!! “All you need to do right now, Daniel, is stay focused on your mission. And remember, the-” “‘The Lions with the time-turner, lightning-bolt scar, and hair like fire are friends; watch out for the rat; and the black dog is not a threat.’ Yeah, you’ve only repeated that a few dozen times today.”

Next → ← Previous (First)

*Knock-knock* “You may come in.”

Lupin entered. Dumbledore stopped his pacing and sat behind his desk. … He was frowning.

“Thank you for coming, Remus.” “I assume this is about Danny,” Lupin sat in the chair Dumbledore provided him. Dumbledore nodded, his eyebrows furrowing. “I’ve given much thought to what you’ve told me about him. You claim the phantasm is… friendly. However, you also acknowledge that phantasms survive--” his tone darkened “--off of eating souls.” “Yes. That’s what Danny told me. However, Danny eats substitute souls…” Lupin trailed off. Dumbledore was nodding.

“... I… understand your sympathies for the boy. And I agreed not to pursue him. However.” Dumbledore’s eyes seemed to actually burn. “Unlike a werewolf… a phantasm is a continual threat to my students’ safety. What if he were to run out of these ‘substitutes,’ for example? Would he hunt the dementors and break our tenuous peace with them? Eat the Hogwarts’ Ghosts?” Lupin didn’t have an answer for him. “And as you have said yourself, this is the first -- the only -- time we know of that anyone has had a remotely civil interaction with a phantasm. I trust your judgement that the boy does not MEAN us any harm. But we have no way of knowing that that will last.” They sat in silence for a while.

Dumbledore sighed. He looked pained. “... I’m sorry, Remus. I won’t attack the boy. “But I cannot allow him to remain here unsupervised.”

Few things felt better than floating lazily through the air on a warm Spring night. Danny felt sorry for the humans: stuck inside, having to study for exams. When the weather was just turning warm… Not that he was able to completely relax. His meal trips for Sirius and 2nd-Hermione took up a bit of time. But on the whole… Danny was actually getting bored again. … As in, REALLY bored! Which was NOT something he thought he’d be when he first arrived at this crazy school. But he’d explored every inch of it! Or, he thought so, anyway; the place was practically a maze. But if there was any part he’d missed, he’d have to congratulate whoever built or hid it (if he ever met them). Because of that boredom, though, Danny resorted to something he never thought he would: He had started studying school subjects for fun. Which, granted, magic subjects were inherently more entertaining, but the textbooks were still somehow just as boring to read as normal ones! The two subjects that interested him most were Astronomy (of course) and History of Magic. (The teacher of that class -- aside from being a ghost??? -- was still extremely boring, but the history itself was actually pretty neat.)

He also started visiting Buckbeak to get the hippogriff more comfortable around his presence, just in case the appeal didn’t work out. The chances of which were… pretty good, if Draco’s returned good mood was anything to go by. Turns out the bully’s father really was influential, and he certainly didn’t keep it a secret that the creature’s execution would be because of that influence. In fact, he seemed pleased by it. Danny had gotten tired of pranking Draco himself, but the boy’s attitude about Buckbeak grated on his nerves so much that he bribed Peeves (with some items from the Hogsmeade joke shop) to do it for him. … It worked… for… a few days, anyway. ...Which was pretty good concentration, for a poltergeist. When a letter arrived saying that an executioner would be attending the appeal, Danny took that as a sign that his plan would probably have to be used, after all. He made sure there was a space ready for the creature in the big room under the castle (called the “Chamber of Secrets,” he found out from Hermione), destroying the basilisk carcass and making a nest for him. He hoped the trip through the ground and walls wouldn’t freak Buckbeak out too much when the time came…

But really. An executioner? To an appeal? For the “crime” of scratching a kid’s arm?! It was like this “Ministry of Magic” WANTED him to hate them!

The Trio, oddly enough, actually seemed to think their chances of winning the appeal were pretty good. He wished he could share their optimism. They were visiting Hagrid almost every evening at this point -- using Harry’s invisibility cloak, of course. If nothing else, the company and constant reassurance was keeping Hagrid’s spirits up.

The appeal took place the same day of the students’ last exams. Which meant that they wouldn’t find out the ruling until after they had finished. Or, in Danny’s case, that he had to keep one eye on Hagrid’s hut during the Divination exam. He would have just floated next to the hippogriff for the whole day, waiting to make their escape, but… It was just too tempting!

He actually sat in on two other, earlier, exams: The Astronomy test, to see how he compared. (He might not actually have been able to take it -- but he was proud to say that, if he could’ve, he would have gotten “top marks!”) And the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam -- because it was a magical obstacle course, which… it was just FAR too entertaining to pass up watching!

But he didn’t watch the Divination exam for the entertainment value. He needed to know whether it was actually possible for humans (magical or not) to see into the future. Because if they could… it meant that the Observants -- Clockwork’s bosses -- weren’t the only ones with that power. He wasn’t sure how, but he thought that might be useful information, in the future…

But, uh… The answer seemed to be a resounding “no.” Every student that came up to tell her what they saw in the crystal ball… A few of them took it seriously, but most seemed to just be making stuff up. And the teacher, “Trelawney”… was falling for the stories hook, line, and sinker! Danny stayed until the last student ONLY because it was Harry. Who, indeed, did what everyone else did and made something up.

”Well? What do you see?” prompted Trelawney, dressed in her usual ridiculous beads, bangles, and spangled shawl -- looking like a glittery insect with her giant, thick glasses. “Er -- a dark shape… um…” “What does it resemble? Think, now…” “A hippogriff.” “Indeed!” She scribbled something on her parchment. “My boy, you may well be seeing the outcome of poor Hagrid’s trouble with the Ministry of Magic! Look closer… Does the hippogriff appear to… have its head?” “Yes,” Harry stated firmly. “Are you sure? Are you quite sure, dear? You don’t see it writhing on the ground, perhaps, and a shadowy figure raising an axe behind it?” “No!”

‘What the heck is with this teacher? She’s been leading the students into “making” these doom-ridden predictions the ENTIRE exam!!!’ “No blood? No weeping Hagrid?” “No! It looks fine, it’s -- flying away…” ‘C’mon, Harry. I know you want Buckbeak to be fine, but if you’re going to make something up to pass, make something up that will, y’know -- get her to pass you.’ But the teacher sighed and said, “Well, dear, I think we’ll have to leave it there. ...A little disappointing,” ‘Really, though? Are ALL predictions bad? Can’t the Universe give GOOD visions?! What kind of “prophet” ARE you?!!!’ “... but I’m sure you did your best.”

Harry packed up and turned to leave, Danny about to phase out through the wall, when-- “IT WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT.” Danny reeled around, almost attacking her -- The lady’s voice had become loud and harsh, and her body had gone rigid. Her eyes were unfocused, and her mouth sagged. But as soon as Danny realized what was going on -- he paid extra close attention!!!

“THE DARK LORD LIES DORMANT, TRAPPED BEHIND LIGHTNING. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE DUSK… THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND RELEASE HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT’S AID, BRINGING TERROR WITH HIS LIGHTNING PRISON. TONIGHT… BEFORE DUSK… THE SERVANT… WILL RELEASE… HIS MASTER…”

Trelawney’s head fell onto her chest, then snapped back up, and like that -- it was over. Harry tried to get some kind of explanation from her, but she didn’t seem to remember what had just happened. And Danny was inclined to believe she wasn’t faking it, because during that little episode… She had been radiating time aura.

… Also, it was just the kind of vague, unhelpful wording the old Stopwatch LOVED to use when giving any hint or warning. Because, really? “Trapped inside lightning”? “Release his master”? How was that helpful?!?! ‘Well…’ Danny tried to decode the message on his way to Hagrid’s hut. ‘I guess this means my vacation is over. “Lightning prison”... ‘That probably means Harry. The “servant” MIGHT be Pettigrew…?’

Deciding it would be better to keep a closer eye on Harry for the night, Danny turned around. If he had learned anything from his training under the Master of Time, then he knew that prophecies were meant to be broken! But when he got to the Gryffindor common room, it was to see the Trio headed out with grim looks on their faces. He whispered to Hermione (who was used to him appearing at her ear), “What’s going on?” “Buckbeak lost the appeal,” she whispered.

He followed them down to the hut. ‘I have a bad feeling about this, but… No point trying to change things until I know what to change…’ Hagrid was trembling and pale when he answered the door. “It’s us,” Harry hissed. “We’re wearing the Invisibility Cloak. Let us in and we can take it off!” “Yeh shouldn’ve come!” But he let them in, anyway. Rifling through his cupboards, he asked, “Wan’ some tea?” “Where’s Buckbeak, Hagrid?” Hermione asked hesitantly. “I -- I took him outside.” His hands were trembling as he poured, spilling milk all over the table. “He’s tethered in me pumpkin patch. Thought he oughta see the trees an’ -- an’ smell the fresh air -- before --” The milk jug slipped from his trembling hands and shattered on the floor. “I’ll do it, Hagrid,” Hermione offered, moving to clean up the mess. “There’s another one in the cupboard,” he said, sitting himself down in one of his giant chairs.

While Hermione cleaned, Danny decided to help in the little way he could. He couldn’t steal Buckbeak away just yet -- he needed the officials to see it was him, or they might -- no. Or they WOULD just accuse Hagrid of hiding/freeing the creature. So for now, all Danny could do was find the spare milk jug in the cupboard. But when he looked-- There, hiding inside an empty jug -- in a place NONE of them would’ve thought to look (the man’s specialty, it seemed)... Was the rat form of Peter Pettigrew. ‘Knew I had a bad feeling!’

Danny snatched him, quickly phasing outside so that no one could hear his squeaking. “Don’t even think about it,” he growled to the invisible, writhing rat in his hand. It just writhed harder. “If you keep squirming…” He let his hand get colder and colder, “I’ll just have to freeze you in place.” The squirming stopped, but the rat still trembled.

Danny heard voices. It was Dumbledore, a couple older men (one of whom he recognized as the Minister) -- and a man with an axe. ‘Oh, great…’ He would have to steal Buckbeak AND keep hold of Pettigrew, now. Danny took a deep breath. ‘Okay. I can do this. We have a plan… Please stick to the plan, guys…!’ They did. He heard the backdoor of the hut open, and the Trio’s footsteps quickly moved to a place farther away from the hut. The officials were almost there. Dumbledore’s presence made Danny a little nervous, but… No time.

He turned visible with a roar. The four wizards jumped, drawing their wands, and Hagrid stumbled out of his hut. Once he had their attention, Danny wasted no time in freeing Buckbeak. He burnt the rope tethering him to the pumpkin patch, grabbed the hippogriff around the neck, and was just spreading his energy into him to turn them both intangible when-- -- Dumbledore snapped out of his shock.

“Irretio idolon!”

It was just like he remembered -- though the memory was fuzzy. Except he noticed something about the spell he didn’t have the chance to last time. He wasn’t holding anything last time.

It wasn’t just as though he were trapped in a net -- he was trapped in a net that kept him from touching anything else.

Which meant he was forced to let go of Buckbeak… And Pettigrew.

~~~~~

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#Harry Potter #Danny Phantom #phantasma magica #phicc #atrieisan

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calsmusecollection · 5 years ago

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RULES.

repost , don’t reblog ! tag 10 ! good luck !

TAGGED. Found it on an old blog TAGGING. Whomever wants to

For The Outsider

This has been in my drafts for SO long, and I just am tired of it being there. So I just filled out any easy questions I’d skipped and crossed out the others. I’m sorry it’s not done but it’s been avoided for like a year so... yeah...

BASICS.

FULL NAME :

The Outsider, Sanct

NICKNAME :

Black Eyed Bastard, Black Eyed Devil, Black Eyed Groom, Whale Satan

AGE :

17/4000+

BIRTHDAY :

The calendar was different than. Roughly speaking it’s the 20th day in the Month of Rain that he was born human and the Fugue Feast when he merged with The Void

ETHNIC GROUP : ///// NATIONALITY : Pandyssian LANGUAGE / S : Yes. All. As a human he only knew one and it has long since died out SEXUAL ORIENTATION : human: Homosexual, Void: Demisexual (generally only his Marked) ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : human: Homoromantic, Void: Demiromantic (Generally only his Marked) RELATIONSHIP STATUS : Single CLASS : human; destitute, Void; beyond such human designations HOME TOWN / AREA : The town’s name was lost to time. It was on the Southern part of Pandyssia CURRENT HOME : Void- seems to be taking a particular interest in Dunwall/Gristol PROFESSION : Boredom.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR :

human; yellow-going toward white, Void; Black, Post-void Human: Black

EYES :

human; clear blue, Void; Black including where the whites should be. Some people imagine specks of light, or fire in them. He’d deny anything that wasn’t pure black, Post-void Human: Light blue green

SCARS

pre-void-human; too many to count, Void; none, post-void-human verses; a scar that goes across his neck as though to sever both arteries, scars on either wrist indicative of being bound

TATTOOS :

Nope

HEIGHT :

5′6″ (short Void is short)

((I looked up the average height of people in 2000 BCE which would be roughly 4000 years ago if I can do math, and in fact the number I came up with was 5′3″ for men but the sample size is small. The average for the Roman army was 5′7″.))

WEIGHT :

120lbs??

(I dunno I’m really bad at weight...)

BUILD :

Slender

FEATURES :

Nothing special

ALLERGIES :

None really

USUAL HAIR STYLE :

Messy. Not in a deliberate way. More of a ‘what’s a brush?’ sort of way...

USUAL FACE LOOK :

A neutral expression that airs on the side of criticism or confusion.

USUAL CLOTHING :

Dark pants and dark boots and a dark jacket over a white shirt. He wears rings on some fingers. Silver. Which he is loath to contemplate parting with.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S :

He’d tell you he’s beyond such emotion. But he is rather scared of no longer existing. Death maybe. But more than that.

ASPIRATION / S :

None

POSITIVE TRAITS :

NEGATIVE TRAITS :

MBTI :

ZODIAC :

TEMPERAMENT :

SOUL TYPE / S :

ANIMALS :

Whales. Rats

VICE HABIT / S :

Stalking the Marked, Being needlessly ominous, sweet food

FAITH :

He once worshiped the Leviathan. He’s learned to worship nothing

GHOSTS ? :

Eh. Trapped spirits maybe

AFTERLIFE ? :

Nope. Just Void

REINCARNATION ? :

Nope. Just Void

ALIENS ? :

Why not? Though he’s not seen any

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT :

Humans are so... stupid. To think such things last

ECONOMIC PREFERENCE :

He’s beyond such things

SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION

Annoying god-like being

EDUCATION LEVEL :

Zero... or... all of eternity? It’s hard to pinpoint

FAMILY.

FATHER :

Unknown

MOTHER :

Unknown

SIBLINGS :

none

EXTENDED FAMILY :

Unknown

NAME MEANING / S : Outsider- a person who does not belong to a particular group.

Sanct- Ghost

FAVOURITES.

BOOK :

The Young Prince of Tyvia

MOVIE :

5 SONGS :

Drunken Whaler

DEITY :

Himself. He loves himself the most.

HOLIDAY :

Fugue Feast is always entertaining

MONTH :

Month of Rains probably

SEASON :

Summer

PLACE :

Seaside

WEATHER :

Stormy, just before the sky opens up and it starts to rain

SOUND :

Whales singing, Steal clashing,

SCENT / S :

The sea on a warm day, fruit tarts

TASTE / S :

fruit tarts, sweet drinks

FEEL / S :

Ocean waves crashing on the shore, the feel of a breeze, the warmth of touch

ANIMAL / S :

Leviathan and rats

NUMBER :

COLOUR :

Blues

EXTRA.

TALENTS :

BAD AT :

TURN ONS :

“You Fascinate me”

TURN OFFS :

Predictability

HOBBIES :

TROPES :

AESTHETIC TAGS :

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : if you could write your character your way in their own movie , what would it be called , what style would it be filmed in , and what would it be about ?

A1 :

The Outsider doesn’t deserve a movie. But if he had one it would have some sort of one-word title that helped no one guess what it was about. Like.. “Time” or “Forever”. It would be some sort of ridiculous indie film that is trying so hard to intellectual that all concept of linear storytelling is lost. Symbolism takes the place of narrative. And you leave the theater feeling as if you’ve lost days instead of a mere hour. It’s supposed to be about what it’s like to be him in the Void. And maybe it is. No one can be certain.

Q2 : What would their soundtrack / score sound like ?

A2 :

Ethereal for want of a better term. With that sort of undercurrent of creepy as shit. The sort of music that either has no lyrics or the lyrics contain no chorus. It’s just this story that’s being sang in airy tones over deep music.

Q3 : why did you start writing this character ?

A3 :

He wouldn’t leave me alone. I tried to get my bff in rl to finish the game and save me from The Outsider but they never did and I had no choice but to find someone else to satisfy him.

Q4 : what first attracted you to this character ?

A4:

He’s.... neat? I dunno. I played the first game and I think I only got through some levels because I kept telling myself that there would be another shrine if I could just get to it. How I get my muses is dumb. They show up in my head and declare themselves deserving of my time >.<

Q5 : describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

A5 :

How disconnected he is. Like he can seriously upset someone and not even register that he did. And that’s the antithesis of me and it hurts me every time.

Q6 : what do you have in common with your muse ?

A6 :

We think people are interesting? That’s... about it...

Q7 : how does your muse feel about you ?

A7 :

He tells me I play him wrong. No matter how I play him. It’s always wrong. And he hates his backstory. And he wants me to be more cryptic. And. And. And. -_-’ He’s a judgmental little brat.

Q8 : what characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ?

A8 :

Everyone? I think I really love him dealing with people who don’t have marks a lot.

Q9 : what gives you inspiration to write your muse ?

A9 :

I rewatch the clips of going to the shrines for one thing. And I have a few songs that remind me of him. And I I just... I guess you’d call it meditate? I zone out for a few moments and try to clear my mind of anything that isn’t void.

Q10 : how long did this take you to complete ?

A10 :

.... shhhhhh... some questions need no answers....

#long post #Headcannon: Outsider

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cogentranting · 6 years ago

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Come Daredevil season 3, how do you think Matt's gonna reveal to Karen and Foggy he's alive? I don't think they'll learn at the same time, and to be honest I actually kinda feel that Karen will know by the end of the first episode, while Foggy and Marci will probably learn much later.

Here’s the thing about how I speculate about tv shows and movies and whatnot: I don’t really come up with one theory and stick with it. Instead, I tend to spin out all the different options as I see them. it’s like a flow chart type thing that splits into a bunch of different branches. So let me give you a little run down of some of the different visions I see for it:

- First question: how long is Matt “gone”? Does he A. return as soon as he’s conscious and able to walk out the door or B. Stay with the nuns for X amount of time?

-If A. Does he still need medical attention? If yes, I can see a version where he stumbles up to Claire’s doorway and collapses into her apartment. If he’s still in bad enough shape, it might end up being Claire contacting others to say that Matt’s alive. If so, Claire’s gonna call Foggy, because she doesn’t really know Karen. If Matt is making the calls, I still think he calls Foggy first. I’ll address why below.

If he does NOT need medical attention, I say he chooses to go to Foggy first because he and Foggy ended Defenders on slightly better terms. Also I think Matt has, at this point, had Foggy help him out enough times while simultaneously hating it, that he knows how to weather Foggy’s anger. So no matter what the emotions going on in the reception, Foggy will ultimately have his back. And Foggy really occupies a place as the brother, while Karen is currently the Ex-girlfriend. If you need a place to crash, go with the brother. But in this scenario Matt is back pretty quickly, after meeting up with Foggy, I think his reunion with Karen will be pretty quick.

In this branch, the reunions are basically just Matt calls them up or shows up on their door and they have a happy reunion. Yay Matt’s alive! They’ll work out their issues later, but right now they’re just happy he’s not buried underneath a building.

-if B. (Matt is gone a longer amount of time) the reason becomes important. Is Matt 1. unable to return immediately after he’s better because the people who found him are not allowing him to leave? or 2. is he choosing not to leave? I actually think B is a little more likely, because they probably want Matt to be able to fight and stuff at some point this season and if they pick up too quickly he’s got a lot of healing to do. Also, this allows for a bigger gap between Defenders and season 3. That bigger gap gives Matt’s “death” more impact because people have to live without him longer, allows them to push everyone’s story lines a little further along, let’s it fit more naturally within the timeline for the Netflix MCU in general and jive better with real world passage of time, creates more drama between the characters when Matt does return, and the more spaced out big take-over-New York/destroy-Hell’s-Kitchen type events are the more realistic it feels (as opposed to The Hand tries to rule the world and the next month here comes Fisk again).

- Option 1. Matt’s rescuers also holding him captive to some degree makes a certain amount of sense to me because: they saved this guy from an impossible-to-survive situation but kept it a secret; Maggie Murdock is there and there is definitely something sketch about her so why not this? If this is the case, then Matt doesn’t have to just return, he has to escape, and is potentially being pursued when he comes home. This narrows his options. It probably prevents him from breaking the news gently and more likely means he shows up at someone’s house and is immediately asking them to hide or arm him. It also means that Matt may not even be choosing who he goes to, just whoever is nearest. Or, what would be really fun, he goes straight to someone who can help him out in his situation: Jessica. I don’t think a Jessica appearance is likely, but boy I would love one. But between the others, I think it’s a toss up who he goes to first. The picture I have in my head though is night time, person here’s banging on the door, opens it, Matt comes rushing in, person is in shock but before they can even ask questions he’s telling them to take cover, or something like that.

-Option 2. Matt chooses not to leave and return home right away, but why? There’s a possibility that he either goes chasing off after Elektra or stays for some out of the box reason (like they’re a secret cult and he decides to join because it sounds fun) but I can’t predict anything about these possibilities so I’m just gonna leave them at that. Most likely, if he’s choosing to hang around and let everyone (aka Foggy, Karen and Claire. Matt needs more friends.) believe he’s dead, it’s because of his mom. I’m sure comic readers have more information (I don’t read comics, I don’t want your information in this case, let me be surprised) but for those of us just watching the show, we know next to nothing about Matt’s relationship with Maggie. We don’t even know if he’s ever met her. If he has, when did he last see her? Did he know she was alive all these years? What does he know about her? Did he ever try to find her? Why didn’t she step in when Matt’s dad died? Matt probably has questions he wants answers to. OR Matt is angry that she let him grow up alone (and possibly for stuff from before, because his dad knew she was alive and didn’t make any move to connect her with him in case of emergency so it could be that he was keeping Matt hidden) and Matt tries to push her away but she has some specific information or something she offers to get him to stay.

Matt hanging around to bond with his mom potentially has major implications for his eventual return. While in the other options Foggy and Karen get to mostly just be happy that Matt’s alive, this option introduces a betrayal of trust in that Matt is apparently choosing to let them believe he’s dead at least for a time. So they’re gonna be mad. Which brings us back around to, why does he choose to return? Was he always planning on coming back and just delayed it for a bit? In which case his reunions probably look about the same just with more anger thrown in. Or was he planning on using his “death” as a chance to get away from everything and just start over until something (Fisk?) made him feel like he had to come back? If that’s the case I can see him like leaving cryptic messages for Foggy and Karen that get them to meet him someplace and Matt being his dramatic self and stepping out the shadows and their reunion doubling as a strategizing meeting. Or it might be that Matt returns while trying to still hold onto the idea of keeping his “death” in tact and leaving when this all over. In which case we might have an episode or a couple of Matt sneaking around Hell’s Kitchen trying to avoid everyone and never actually telling Foggy and Karen he’s back, but instead they just discover him. And then they’re really really mad that he didn’t come to them.

In any of the given situations, I think there will be a little bit of trepidation, particularly from those who knew more about the whole Hand bringing people back to life situation (I think Claire and Foggy both knew at least a little). The characters should be asking the question: did we really get Matt back? or something else? And really that’s a question the audience should have at least a little– was Matt saved from the brink of death, or brought back to life? I think it’s the former, but it could be either. And even if he never actually died, there is the question of whether he recovered completely naturally or whether something shadier and more magical was involved. Questions that characters and audience need addressed before they can fully celebrate Matt’s resurrection.

tl;dr: I hope Matt shows up at Foggy’s door in the middle of the night, exhausted or injured, and just goes “surprise! Not dead!”

#daredevil #defenders spoilers #dd season 3 #askbox #matt murdock #WAY more detail than you asked for

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anonwords · 4 years ago

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monday october 12

i dont really know what to write about since nothing interesting happens often. and i don’t want to write anything hopeful since the virus is still at a critical level in the us, and election day is less than a month away which just adds to the stress and grimness, since all the polls say biden will beat trump but that exactly what was predicted on election day 4 years ago. tr*mp says if he wins, then its the will of the people but if he loses its rigged and he won’t transfer power. they asked this mf point blank to denounce white supremacy and he told his followers to stand by. i hate thinking about all that because it’s scary to think what will happening the future if he’s elected again. im not saying biden is gonna solve everything but he’ll do a hell of a better job than whats happening now. 45 has let 220,000 americans die from the virus, and he might join them since being diagnosed a week ago. doctors say he’s fine but the same has been said about another conservative figure who was just as old as trump. it took a month for him to die, and the last time we saw 45 in public he was gasping for air. i hope he dies that way.

Omar’s bday was last night and I got him michael jackson’s off the wall picture vinyl. i also bought the cake, which was fantastic. his girlfriend didn’t come, which was great because i don’t know if seeing her would’ve done to me. I didn’t drink, just smoked and we played cards. he was very fucked up off an edible i made for him, with the weed i was smoking. im so happy he liked it. he loved the cake too, which i would’ve baked for him but that would’ve been too much (I still need to maintain a level of deniability when it comes to my feeling for him). I didn’t sit next to him but I found myself staring when i started to smoke, as the strain I smoke, gelato, typically makes me really hungry, and really horny (its the perfect date strain). his lips looked so soft, and his hair is so cute. he says he’s balding but I don’t mind. he’s always going to be so handsome. his mother loves me but i don’t know how she’d feel if we were together. would she let me stay the night like she let his past girlfriends?

Josh told me he lost his job at amazon because he accidentally left early. Literally probably the hardest worker in the whole damn warehouse, and they just up and fired him. he said he’s gonna find a job and i think he wont ask for money because he had been pulling in a thousand a week at amazon for a while. I want to be up there, and all that needs to happen is that i need to fix my car. then find a job obviously. build some credit, build work history while staying with josh, and we can get an apartment. but I’m still kind of iffy on working. there are the obvious health reasons, and I was making a lot of money on unemployment. when they start giving more again, I’ll be saving a lot. but if i find a job, I will make Significantly less money. and then i’ll start to have to pay for car insurance and rent and i want to get my teeth fixed and it’s just a really stressful time right now.

So this week r*an haywood of ach*evement hunter and ad*m kovic of funh*us were fired from r*oster teeth, the parent company of both those properties, for engaging in extramarital affairs with fans of the companies. the first lets plays i ever watched were from ah, since 2013, back when it was classic ah with the classic lineup of geoff, gavin, michael, ray, jack, and ryan. just six guys in a room screaming at each other over min*craft or gta. I discovered funhaus when roosterteeth acquired them in 2016 or 17, and I have been hooked since then. classic lineup included bruce, james, lawrence, spoole, elyse, joel, peake, and adam. much edgier content, and an older demographic. these guys were just on another level of comedy and gaming. this past wednesday, a google drive link was posted to 4ch*n, that included hundreds of pictures taken by adam of himself nude and in lewd positions, all screenshotted by a fan he was sending them to over instagram. there were some photos of ryan as well, and some are alleging he raped a minor, but its all here-say at this point. all the members of their respective groups made tweets talking about how shocked and hurt they were (some were less than surprised and made tweets explicitly calling out adam, and some tweeted cryptic song lyrics that represented the situation well). they say never meet your heroes and over the past five years, i think thats becoming a proven point. Im still attracted to adam, even though i know he’s an asshole cheater. i remember just absolutely drooling over his big arms and chest, and when burnie burns confirmed he had the biggest cock in the company, i was over the moon. well let me just say that’s the last straw for me. no more white men for me EVER. im totally done with them. its sad to see adam leave when so many of the original lineup have gone (its just james and elyse now). it really won’t be the same now. ah will survive this, and i will just have to wait until they put out official response videos up explaining everything.

it’s fall now, and cuffing season is upon us. I wonder what its like to have someone that is truly invested into you, who make it their business to make you feel cared for. I want the weather to be cold soon, so i can just lay in bed all day and cuddle my body pillow and be warm, and think about my future man and all the ways i’ll take care of him and all the ways he’ll take care of me. i wanna make him soup and bake pies and keep him full and he’ll take me to the pumpkin patch and it will be cloudy and we might even hold hands. just boys being boys. dressed nice and warm with flannels and hoodies and boots. i would even drink coffee again and we’d sit at the coffee shop and hold hands to keep warm. my small hands in his big strong hands. just a thought ive been kicking around in my head.

#oct 2020 #floe #phillip glass

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emmagreen1220-blog · 6 years ago

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New Post has been published on Literary Techniques

New Post has been published on https://literarytechniques.org/foreshadowing-in-literature/

Foreshadowing in Literature

Foreshadowing in literature is used to create suspense or mood, to hint at upcoming events or plot twists, or to reveal important character traits. Foreshadowing can be created by the narrator or the characters themselves, through descriptions and dialogue. Foreshadowing can also be created by shifting the plot structure of a narrative and using flashbacks or flash-forwards to relay important information about past or future events to the audience.

10 Examples of Foreshadowing in Literature

To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee

“The weather was unusually warm for the last day of October. We didn’t even need jackets. The wind was growing stronger, and Jem said it might be raining before we got home. There was no moon. The street light on the corner cast sharp shadows on the Radley house… We turned off the road and entered the schoolyard. It was pitch black.”

Scout’s description of her and Jem’s journey to the school for the Halloween pageant creates a mood of suspense and fear, foreshadowing the fateful events that will come later. The night is very dark with no moon; the only shadows come from streetlights which cause shadows on Boo Radley’s house, the source of the neighborhood children’s legends and fears. Scout and Jem are having a difficult time walking to the school because it is so dark, and Jem didn’t bring a flashlight because he didn’t realize it would be so dark. When they leave the pageant, they are the last ones out of the school, and the night is even darker. Footsteps follow the children, and eventually they are attacked by Bob Ewell who finally makes good on his threats to get back at Atticus for embarrassing him in court.

Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

“A great event in my life, the turning point of my life, now opens on my view. But, before I proceed to narrate it, and before I pass on to all the changes it involved, I must give one chapter to Estella. It is not much to give to the theme that so long filled my heart.”

Pip narrates his tale from the present so most of the novel is told in a flashback format. Here, Pip is relating the turning point of his life, foreshadowing that there are many changes that are upcoming soon, right after he gets through discussing Estella again. The tone which Pip uses here to tell the reader about the upcoming events foreshadows that Pip’s relationship with Estella does not work out, and that the changes he undergoes aren’t necessarily pleasant ones.

The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allan Poe

“The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was a point definitely settled–but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong. It must be understood that neither by word nor deed had I given Fortunato cause to doubt my good will. I continued, as was my wont, to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my smile now was at the thought of his immolation.”

This chilling opening by the narrator, Montressor, to the audience reveals a terrifying foreshadowing of vengeance and murder for Fortunato. Montressor reveals that Fortunato has insulted him in a way that can never be forgiven, and he has decided to make sure that Fortunato will never insult him– or anyone else– again. He lays out in cryptic detail that he has managed to keep Fortunato from suspecting his true intentions, but that he has waited for the moment to get his revenge. This scene sets the mood of the story, and foreshadows Fortunato’s unfortunate untimely demise.

The Scarlet Ibis by James Hurst

“At that moment the bird began to flutter, but the wings were uncoordinated, and amid much flapping and a spray of flying feathers, it tumbled down, bumping through the limbs of the bleeding tree and landing at our feet with a thud. Its long, graceful neck jerked twice into an S, then straightened out, and the bird was still. A white veil came over the eyes and the long white beak unhinged. Its legs were crossed and its clawlike feet were delicately curved at rest. Even death did not mar its grace, for it lay on the earth like a broken vase of red flowers, and we stood around it, awed by its exotic beauty.”

James Hurst explores the psyche of brothers in this short story, which features the unnamed narrator and his younger, disabled brother named Doodle. Doodle was born with a weak heart, and was predicted to not survive, let alone be able to walk, run, go to school, or do anything else little boys are supposed to be able to do. The narrator makes it his mission to help Doodle overcome these obstacles, partly because of his own shame at having a brother who isn’t “normal.” Throughout the story, the color red is used as a motif to mirror Doodle’s own red appearance as a baby, and whenever he strains with physical exertion. The scarlet ibis itself symbolizes and foreshadows Doodle’s death. It is a bird that has traveled an unlikely journey far from its home in the tropics, much farther than it should have gone, and in death, it is still beautiful and graceful, with a curved neck and bent legs. This death scene of the ibis, coupled with Doodle’s fascination with the bird, foreshadow Doodle’s own death later on.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson

“‘Poor Harry Jekyll,’ he thought, ‘my mind misgives me he is in deep waters! He was wild when he was young; a long while ago to be sure; but in the law of God, there is no statute of limitations. Ay, it must be that; the ghost of some old sin, the cancer of some concealed disgrace: punishment coming, pede claudo, years after memory has forgotten and self-loved condoned the fault.'”

In the second chapter of Stevenson’s cryptic novella, Mr. Utterson, Dr. Jekyll’s lawyer, is becoming increasingly worried about his client’s well-being. His friend Richard Enfield had already imparted a story to him about a man named Edward Hyde trampling a young child in the streets and paying £100 to avoid a scandal. The check he provided for the £100 was signed by Dr. Henry Jekyll. In these lines, Utterson is worried that Dr. Jekyll is being blackmailed by Mr. Hyde for some sin he committed many years ago; however, these words also serve as foreshadowing because Dr. Jekyll is in trouble because he has fallen in love with the darker side of himself that he repressed many years ago. This darker side is allowed to come out with a special potion as Mr. Hyde, which is slowly taking over Dr. Jekyll completely.

The Lord of the Flies by William Golding

“‘Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill!’ said the head. For a moment or two the forest and all the other dimly appreciated places echoed with the parody of laughter. ‘You knew, didn’t you? I’m part of you? Close, close, close! I’m the reason why it’s no go? Why things are what they are?'”

Simon has an imaginary conversation with a pig’s head, which the other boys have erected on a stick. It is covered with flies, and Simon begins to call the head “The Lord of the Flies.” The head’s conversation with Simon reveals that Simon is starting to understand the truth about what is happening to the young boys stranded on the island: there is no real beast that is chasing them. Instead, they are battling against each other. The true beast is inside them all, and it will destroy them. Simon’s conversation with the head foreshadows his own death, Piggy’s death, and Jack’s savage behavior which turns the rest of the boys against Ralph.

The Giver by Lois Lowry

“Almost every citizen in the community had dark eyes. His parents did, and Lily did, and so did all of his group members and friends. But there were a few exceptions: Jonas himself, and a female Five who he had noticed had the different, lighter eyes. No one mentioned such things; it was not a rule, but was considered rude to call attention to things that were unsettling or different about individuals.”

Jonas and Lily have just met Gabe, the newchild their father has just brought home to take care of until he is able to thrive better. Jonas and his sister Lily both notice Gabe’s eyes, and how rare they are in the community. These eyes foreshadow something very special about Gabe and Jonas. In fact, the Receiver of Memory of the community also has the same pale eyes, and Jonas is later chosen to become the new Receiver of Memory. Their eyes connect the three in a way that is special and different from the community, especially as Jonas discovers that he can give memories to Gabe. This leads Jonas to form a strong connection to Gabe, and to save him from the community before they can “release” him, or send him to Elsewhere.

A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini

“‘I want you to take me to your cinema,’ Mariam said now. ‘I want to see the cartoon. I want to see the puppet boy.’

With this, Mariam sensed a shift in the atmosphere. Her parents stirred in their seats. Mariam could feel them exchanging looks.”

Up to this moment in the novel, Jalil, Mariam’s father, and Nana, Mariam’s mother have been portrayed in black and white, good and evil. Jalil’s visits to Mariam are a saving grace from her mother, who treats Mariam with utter disdain. However, when Mariam finally makes a request from her father– and especially one to be seen in public with him– the atmosphere shifts and foreshadows that something has irrevocably changed in their relationship from this request. The next day, Jalil does not come to get Mariam, and she walks down to Herat. She soon discovers that her father is ashamed of her, and by leaving her mother’s kolba, she sends her into such a depression that Nana hangs herself.

The Monkey’s Paw by W.W. Jacobs

“‘It had a spell put on it by an old Fakir,’ said the Sergeant Major, ‘ a very holy man. He wanted to show that fate ruled people’s lives, and that those who interfered with it did so to their sorrow. He put a spell on it so that three separate men could each have three wishes from it.'”

This section from Jacobs’ short story reveals both foreshadowing and theme for the story. The monkey’s paw is bewitched, and is intended to grant three wishes to three men. While Sergeant Major Morris is obviously perplexed by the paw and tries to warn Mr. White against using it, he also tells the White family that the intentions of the old fakir who put a spell on it was to show that people can’t interfere with fate. Mr. White wishes for £200, and while he receives it, it is because his son Herbert is killed in a machine accident at work. His next wish, to have Herbert back, results in a strange knocking at the door and Mr. White wishing for his son to be dead again. They know that the real Herbert would not have been at the door; they could not change their own fate.

The Lady or the Tiger? by Frank R. Stockton

“The girl was lovely, but she had dared to raise her eyes to the loved one of the princess; and, with all the intensity of the savage blood transmitted to her through long lines of wholly barbaric ancestors, she hated the woman who blushed and trembled behind that silent door.”

In this excerpt from Stockton’s cliffhanger short story, he uses foreshadowing to hint at what the princess’ choice will be. She comes from a line of semi-barbaric people, and her father, the King, is especially barbaric in his tournaments of judgment. The fact that the narrator continues to focus more time on these elements that are mixed in the princess’ bloodline gives a clear indication that she likely chose the door with the tiger and watched her lover being ripped to shreds rather than allow him to be happy with any other woman but herself.

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