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simplyswooningk · 4 years ago

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Fanfiction Teaser: The Strategist| Coming April 2021 to FF.net and A03 | Chapter One, “The Professor & The Madman”

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Ron and Hermione

Premise: Begins Post Half-Blood Prince. “Wars are not for children,” Arthur said with a deep sigh.

“It’s a good thing I’m not a kid anymore, isn’t it, Dad?”

The Strategist

“War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.”-J.R.R Tolkien

“The Minstrel-Boy to the War has gone! In the ranks of death, you will find him. His father’s sword he hath girded on and his wild harp slung behind him. ‘Land of song,’ said the warrior-bard, ‘Though all the world betrays thee. One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard. One faithful harp shall praise thee.’”-Thomas Moore

One:

The Professor & The Madman

Ronald Weasley had never seen Hogwarts so silent. The place seemed frozen, stuck, dead. He shuddered at his train of thought. It had been barely an hour since Albus Dumbledore, largely regarded as the greatest Headmaster Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had ever known, had been laid to rest.

His murderer, Professor Snape, was gone, had left like the ruddy coward he was along with the rest of the Death Eaters. Snape had never been anywhere near Ron’s favorite teacher, but he never could have imagined anything like this. To make matters worse, Dumbledore had trusted Snape. That mistake had cost him everything.

Ron found himself sitting on the Quidditch Pitch. It was empty, no one had a thought for Quidditch. The days of worrying about his Keeper abilities and how to pass his N.E.W.T.S seemed as far away as his life before Hogwarts.

His parents were catching up with old friends, but they had announced that they would be leaving in two hours, his mother was especially was eager for him and Ginny to be at home. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he wouldn’t be staying long.

Dumbledore had given Harry Potter a mission. You Know Who had a secret, several of them it seemed, and they had to find them all and destroy them. Horcruxes.

He, Harry and Hermione Granger were setting off a mission to find and destroy each of those Horcruxes. Seven of them. Two had already been dispensed. And one would only be gone when He Who Must Not Be Named popped his clogs for good.

Apparently, they could be anything. One they knew about. It was the locket of Slytherin. But who knew where they would find that?

And then there was this mysterious R.A.B character who had somehow stolen the locket. No one had the foggiest idea who he was. So, they were heading headlong into disaster without a clue as to what to do.

He honestly shouldn’t have been surprised. After his first year at Hogwarts, having to deal with a giant, living chess set and then a murderous diary, a violent tree and a killer snake in his second had pretty much taught him to be prepared for anything.

There was a part of him that wanted to just go home. A part of him that wanted spend a quiet summer at home, go to Hogwarts for his seventh year and start life in the real world.

But he knew he was kidding himself. With Dumbledore gone and You-Know-Who gaining ground every second, if they didn’t end it, there wouldn’t be a real world. So, he would fight. There was nothing to do but fight. He knew Hermione felt the same way, but if he could’ve kept her away from it all, he would. More than anything, he wanted to keep her safe.

Harry had disappeared somewhere off with Ginny, and although he had had his reservations about their relationship, there were far worse guys for his only sister to date. Although she couldn’t have picked a more troublesome bloke.

Then again, Ginny had always liked trouble. She'd be coming back to school next year. Ron couldn’t imagine what Hogwarts would be like without Dumbledore.

He looked up to the window where the old Headmaster’s office had been. It was hard to imagine anyone else ever being there.

Hs eyes fell to the window where Potions class was. Snape had taught there, pretending that he wasn’t a Death Eater, pretending that he could be trusted. The whole thing made him want to vomit and then punch something.

And then he thought of Slughorn. He apparently had written a fucking book for Voldemort: How To Make A Horcrux: A Guide for Fucking Demented Psychopaths. His mother had often told him that not all Slytherins were evil, but the whole lot of them seemed to be nothing but trouble.

But then again, if he’d wrote the book, he might have the answers.

He made his way back into the castle, grabbed the Marauder's Map from Harry’s trunk and searched for Slughorn’s name. He was in a part of the castle Ron had never ventured. But there was no time for trepidation now.

He made his way to the Teacher’s Wing. He found himself outside Slughorn’s quarters. He knocked, but there was no answer. Normally, he would’ve turned away, but it was no time to waste on civilities.

He walked in. “Professor? Professor Slughorn?”

He heard some shuffling about and he instantly reached for his wand. These days, no one could be too careful.

“Oh, Mr. Wemby!” Ron fought the urge not to roll his eyes. This man literally had taught generations of his entire fucking family and he couldn’t remember his last name. It wasn’t as if they all bore a strong family resemblance and had the same hair color.

Oh, wait a second, it was.

What made it worse was that he’d nearly died because of Slughorn and a box of Love Potion-tainted chocolate cauldrons.

“How are you, my boy? Avoiding more poisonings, I hope?”

“Doing my best, sir,” Ron said with a smile. “If I might have a word?”

“Certainly, my boy,” said the aged professor and Ron noted that he took a rather pointed look at his hourglass. “Although I am in quite of a hurry.”

“You’re leaving Hogwarts?”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t dare. Now, with everything that’s happened. You-Know-Who will come for this place, I guarantee you. Someone will have to help watch over the students. No, I was just heading down to the greenhouses. With Death Eaters knocking on every corner, there’s a couple of plants that I should like to have on hand.”

Ron nodded and squared his shoulders. “Well, I won’t take up too much of your time, sir. Sir, I’m aware of what you gave Harry about...You-Know-Who.”

Ron watched the professor’s face go white. “Sir, believe, I’m not here to give you a hard time about it,” he said quickly. “I just want your help with something.”

Professor Slughorn’s back straightened. "I've already given Harry everything.” His voice was stiff and dismissive, but Ron didn’t have time to get upset.

“I know. But I was just wondering, is there anything else you know that might be helpful. You see, Harry’s going to try and destroy all of the Horcruxes. That’s right, he did make Horcruxes, sir. Six of them, apparently. I'm going with Harry. Me and Ms. Granger. Is there anything you know that may be able to help us? Anything about Horcruxes, anything about You-Know-Who. Dumbledore said you were his favorite teacher.”

The professor scoffed. “Ah yes, my claim to fame. The favorite teacher of the Darkest Wizard our world has ever known. What a nice epithet that will be, I’m sure. Of course, Harry would go for the Horcruxes. He’s Dumbledore’s man through and through.” Slughorn turned thoughtful for a moment. “That may not always be a good thing, mind you. Sit down, Weatherby.”

Ron did as he was told.

“I really shouldn’t tell you much,” the professor began. “It would be quite... well, I suppose none of that will even matter.” He sighed and Ron thought he was looking at a man who was clearly at war with himself.

“I’ve often thought about that night, the night I told him about some of the darkest magic known to Wizarding kind. I believed his curiosity natural, admirable. How wrong I was. The first thing you ought to know is that none of the items will be insignificant. They'll be things that were important to him. But they’ll also be things considered magically significant. He likes power, he like things connected with the past. Dumbledore—,” his voice caught briefly as he mentioned the old Headmaster, “may have told you as much. And his favorite place is this school. It is the only place he ever felt at home.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “Do you think one of the objects is here, sir?”

“Well, there could be no better hiding place, could there?”

“Sir, do you know how to destroy one?”

Slughorn sighed. “I have never learned the spell to create one. But a good wizard is curious about such things. But only curious. What I can tell you is that making horcruxes is not an easy business, my boy. Destroying them is far, far worse. There's only a couple of things in the world that can do so and most of them will kill a wizard just as easily. Basilisk venom, for one. I don’t think I need to tell how hard that is to come by. And no, I haven’t got any. If I did, I'd give it to you. There’s also Fiendfyre. It’ll destroy the Horcrux but if you’re not careful, it’ll take you right out with it. And then there is a Potion.”

“A Potion?”

Slughorn nodded. “Horcruxes, my boy, can be anything. Including flesh and blood. Now normally, you’d just kill the living thing and the Horcrux inside it right along with it. But, if for some reason, you want to remove the Horcrux without killing the host, there is a potion for that.”

Slughorn got up from his chair and walked back to a cupboard, shuffling about for a moment before picking out a small vial with a reddish-black liquid. He brought it back to the table and handed it to Ron.

“This is Actuscaria. It's one of the rarest potions in the world. It's incredibly tricky to make and it has about a thousand different uses, one of them is destroying Horcruxes inside of living things.”

Ron looked at the potion, fascinated, more fascinated than he’d ever been by a potion before. “How does it do that, sir?”

“Actuscaria can only be made by love.”

Ron looked at the professor, blue eyes clouded with confusion.

“As in the act of love.” Ron still looked perplexed. “As in making it, Mr. Weasley.”

Understanding dawned in Ron’s eyes, he turned bright red and eyed the bottle curiously. He was so fascinated that he didn’t realize that Slughorn finally got his blasted name right.

“But not just any act of love Mr. Weasley, the first act of love. To put it into frankly, the potion is made from the blood of a virgin witch.” Ron turned even redder, but if Slughorn noticed, he didn’t let on.

“The blood that is shed during the act of deflowering.” Ron blushed again, this time the color of a ripe tomato. “Also, the blood has to be combined with the seed of the wizard who has deflowered her. Given that she has been deflowered, this combination happens rather naturally. Also, you need the entire fingernail of each of their left hands. Combine that with three drops of phoenix tears, brewed in a cauldron made from dragon’s eggs and the fire lit only with elm wood for eight days and seven nights. But the most important part of this is that the witch and wizard must be in love. Not some childish, silly infatuation, but truthfully, truly in love or it will not work. Horcruxes are formed by murder, a violation against nature. But the act of love, true love at its purest is the very affirmation of nature. It’s Old Magic, you see, nothing more powerful. Guard it, Mr. Weasley, with your life. Even if you never have cause to use it, it’s worth five times its weight in gold.”

Ron reached out a slightly trembling hand to grasp the potion. It seemed so unremarkable, so ordinary. It didn’t look revolting like Polyjuice or deadly like Night of the Living Death.

“Thank you, Professor...for everything,” Ron said, standing up. “I’ll need to finish packing.”

Professor Slughorn nodded and Ron began to walk away. Right before, he reached the door, he turned around.

“Professor, is there anything, anything else at all that you can tell me?”

The aged potions master looked up from his desk. “Yes. Godspeed, my boy. Godspeed.”

Ron nodded. That wasn’t terribly helpful but he knew he meant well. Which considering the circumstances, was probably the most anyone could do.

“Mr. Weasley,” the professor called out before Ron had reached the back of the classroom. “Before you go, if you have a moment, feel free to take whatever you’d like from the Potions Storeroom. If you’re going to try and stop...him, you never know what you may need.”

Ron nodded and with one final farewell, he left the Good Professor to ponder that one fateful conversation. Ron had learned this year how much damage one action could cause.

As he headed back to Gryffindor Tower, he thought of everything the Professor had told him. Was it possible He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had hidden a Horcrux at Hogwarts? He didn’t pretend to know how the psycho thought, he left that up to Harry.

But if you were going to hide something you never wanted anyone to find, where else would you hide it?

He arrived in the Gryffindor common room, which was all but deserted. Hermione was sitting on the couch her legs propped up on her trunk, clearly deep in thought.

He was supposed to meet his parents and Ginny in the Great Hall in a hour and a half. Hermione would be coming with them and then taking the Floo Network back to her house.

She looked sad, she looked worried. She looked beautiful. All he wanted to do was hold her.

It hadn’t been the best year for their friendship. Theirs had always been a friendship of push and pull. But the past year, there wasn’t any pushing, only pulling away.

He honestly didn’t know where it had all gone wrong. Okay, so he did.

Jealousy, immaturity, insecurity, Ginny’s goading, Lavender’s sudden attention, Quidditch fears and Quidditch glory; it had been a toxic cocktail.

They were back on good terms finally. Near death experiences tended to make people forget pettiness. It was nice to know that they could never really be angry with each other. He never doubted her being there when it counted. He hoped she thought the same.

But that was part of the problem...he didn’t know what she thought...of him. He could read her moods like the back of his hand, could tell when she was angry, moody, stressed. He knew how to piss her off like nobody else. But he hadn’t quite worked out how to make her happy.

He had just begun to realize that was what he wanted to do, possibly, probably, definitely more than he wanted anything else.

Denial had long been his picked poison when it came to his feelings for Hermione, but now, now he didn’t want to hide them anymore. But there were a million reasons he had to.

There were a lot of things unsaid. It didn’t make sense to say them now, not when the whole world was at stake. If they lived, there would be time to say it all. But of course, that was a very big if.

“Hey,” she said with the smallest of smiles. He returned her smile and came to sit beside her.

“Where’s Ginny?” he asked. “Mum and Dad are going to be in Hogsmeade in an hour.”

“She’s down at Hagrid’s...with Harry. I think she wants to spend as much time with as she can.”

Ron nodded and then shook his, not needing that particular image in his head. Harry had been his best friend for the better part of six years, but still there were just some things one didn’t want to imagine about their little sister.

“How are you?” he asked. “I mean, really?”

Hermione shrugged. “Fair,” she responded. “It’s a lot to do. A lot to plan. I’ll be coming to the Burrow next week.”

“So soon?” he asked. Not that he minded. But Hermione usually didn’t come to the Burrow until the last week of summer.

“Yes,” she said rather quickly and he got the distinct feeling that there was something she wasn’t saying. “Is that all right?” she asked, brown eyes searching his.

He turned red. “Of course. Of course, it’s all right. I just thought that maybe with everything that’s going on, you’d want to spend more time at home...with your folks.”

Hermione shrugged. “With everything that’s going on, I'd love to never leave home. But that’s not really an option, is it? No use in prolonging the inevitable.”

“Have you thought of what you’re going to tell them?”

Hermione didn’t answer for a long moment and then just shook her head. “I don’t know how to have that conversation. But in any event, have you thought of what you’re going to tell Mrs. Weasley? That's the real dangerous one, isn’t it?”

Ron, despite his worry and trepidation, laughed. “You’re right about that one,” he said with a grin. She grinned back and for a moment, everything was okay.

“We’ll be okay, Hermione,” he told her with confidence he couldn’t quite justify.

She scoffed slightly. “You sound certain.”

“Well, you’re coming, aren’t you?”

She smiled, the first one he could remember seeing that reached her eyes in a long while. Then he remembered his conversation with Slughorn.

“I went to speak to Slughorn,” he said. “To see if he knew anything that could help us.”

Hermione frowned at that. “Ron, we’re not supposed to tell anyone! You could put him in danger.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Hermione, for Merlin’s sake, Harry already told him something. And in case you didn’t notice, all of us are already in fucking danger.”

Hermione bit her lower lip and exhaled loudly, the way she always did when he was correct and she didn’t want to admit it. “Well, what did he say?” she asked finally a long pause.

Ron proceeded to say tell her the gist of his conversation with Slughorn. Although, he left out the part of the instructions for Actuscaria. There were some things he just didn’t feel comfortable talking about. Not with her.

Besides, Hermione being Hermione, she would, at some point, look up the recipe anyway.

“Basilisk venom,” she said once Ron had finished his story. “Where on earth are we going to find Basilisk venom?”

Ron thought for a moment. “I know where. Come on,” he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. They had no time to waste.

He dismissed the way his heart was beating as nerves and anticipation and not having anything to do with the way her hand felt in his. No, that had nothing to do with it at all.

They stood there for the briefest of seconds, hand-in-hand, eyes searching into another and for a second, the never-ending fast-fowarding tape that had been their experience at Hogwarts seemed to pause.

But that moment, like all moments akin to it, ended too quickly.

“We’ve got to hurry,” Ron said blinking rapidly, breaking the intensity of their eye contact.

“You mind telling me where we’re going?” Hermione asked as they raced down the steps of Gryffindor Tower.

“Girls’ lavatory on the second floor.”

“What?” Hermione asked as she ran beside him, their hands still tightly clasped.

“Chamber of Secrets,” he said in a hushed whisper though the halls were nearly deserted.

They got there in record time. Ron had never known it to be so easy to sneak around Hogwarts. Without Dumbledore’s presence, nothing felt safe.

He didn’t like that feeling. Hogwarts’ had been his family’s home from home for centuries. Despite everything he had been through in his six years there, he had never felt truly, truly at risk.

Of course, the Ministry would do everything they could to keep everyone safe. But if he was going to judge by the stories Bill had told him about the early days of the First War, he wasn’t exactly filled with confidence.

But now wasn’t the time for his fears to get the better of him.

He gripped her hand tighter as they entered into the bathroom and found themselves facing the row of sinks.

He felt for the Snake-shaped clasp hidden since Tom Riddle had walked these halls. It felt weird doing this without Harry, he had to admit. But he had a feeling had things were going to get dicey, Harry would need all the help he could get.

“How do we get in?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Parseltongue,” Ron said as he thought back to the last time he’d been there. Parseltongue always sounded creepy and disturbing to him, but Harry mumbled it a lot in his sleep. Ron had only picked up on it subconsciously, but he hoped he had enough not to botch it.

The whispery, slithery words felt unnatural and harsh on his tongue, but it worked. The tap began to move and Hermione gasped in awe.

“Oh, my god,” she whispered as the tunnel to the Chamber of Secrets opened.

“Come on,” he said. “We’ve got to jump,” Ron told her. “You may want to hold on.”

Hermione peered down the tunnel, eyes wide. “Hold on to what?” her voice was highly confused.

“To me,” he said motioning to his shoulders.

“Oh,” a blush crept across her face and Ron pretended he didn’t notice as he fought his own burning cheeks. Her arms wrapped around the top of his chest and he prayed that she couldn’t feel his heart beating, though he knew it was pounding.

Her little hands clasped around him, delicate and dainty but he knew what damage those hands could do. The contrast simultaneously amused and aroused him. But he shook himself of those thoughts. Focus, focus, she’s only a girl.

But of course, even as they jumped down the tunnel, he knew he was kidding himself. She was The Girl. The Girl He Wanted, The Girl He Needed, The Girl He Loved. Love?

It seemed so foreign, yet as they whooshed down the tunnel, he could think of no reason to dispel it. He loved her. When the fuck had that happened?

It was unsettling to be with the notion of love as they were sliding down a dark, creepy dangerous tunnel in preparation of an even more dangerous mission where the best-case scenario was if they won, they most likely be dead as a result.

They slid down the tunnel and Hermione rapped his shoulders tighter as their speed increased.

Ron cast a silent Cushioning Charm because the memory of barreling into hundred thousand mouse skeletons was far from his favorite thing.

They landed with a thud and Hermione’s hands instantly left Ron’s shoulders. He was surprised by how instantly he felt the loss of her touch and how much he longed for it again.

“Oh, my God,” Hermione said as she looked around. There was rubble, dust and ash everywhere.

“We’ll have to bombard our way through,” Ron told her pulling out his wand. “Three tons of rock dropped last time, so let’s be careful.”

Hermione nodded and pulled out her own wand. “I’m right behind you,” agreed with a grin.

He took her hand in his. “If we need to make a quick exit, Side-Long Apparation?”

She nodded and they pressed forward until they reached the Chamber Door.

Another round of Parseltongue from Ron later, the door opened and they found themselves in a room which they had only heard about secondhand from Harry and Ginny.

“Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” Hermione asked as they entered the Chamber.

Ron pulled a look. “Are you serious?” he asked. “Yes, I've spent my free learning the secret language of psychos.”

“Not all Slytherins are evil, Ronald.”

“Name one you like.”

He had her there. She gave no answer and merely shrugged.

They both paused when their eyes fell upon the basilisk skeleton.

“Bloody hell,” whistled Hermione as she took the whole thing in.

“Hey don’t sweat it. It's dead. We’ve got living monsters to worry about. What's that Shakespeare quote you always say, ‘Hell is empty and all the devils are here’?”

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. “I said that once three years ago. You remember that?”

Ron colored slightly and shrugged in reply. “I guess. Let’s get the fangs.”

He started to kneel down, reaching to grab a fang.

“Ron, wait! We should remove those with magic. What if you accidentally scratched yourself?”

Ron had jumped back at her words. “Oh, right. Brilliant, you are.”

She smiled at that and pulled out her wand. They carefully magically removed twelve basilisk fangs from the remains of the vicious snake. Hermione conjured up a backpack for them to place them in.

“You know, Ron,” Hermione said as she zipped up the backpack. “This is going to be really dangerous what we’re doing.”

He nodded, as she rose to stand right in front of him. “Have you thought about it, if we don’t make it?”

She nodded and then shrugged, though he thought he saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes. “I have. But it doesn’t really matter, does it? What matter is—,”

“Harry,” he finished for her. “Harry has to make it through. That's what the prophecy said.”

Hermione sniffled. “Harry,” she agreed. “God, if I had known that we may not be coming back next here, that we may not be coming back at all, I would’ve done so much so differently.”

He looked at her for a long moment, wondering if she was talking about what he thought.

He looked down at his shoes. “Me too,” he began rather meekly. He lifted his face to meet hers again and smiled. “I think about all that time I spent worrying about Quidditch. Like that matters now.”

“Ron, I’m sorry about the birds, if I never apologized for that before.”

He grinned. He hadn’t been expecting her to say that. “Thanks,” he said honestly. “I’m sorry about...everything.” Although, he couldn’t remember what he apologizing for. But he figured it was best to cover the bases.

She chuckled lightly. “You don’t know what you’re apologizing for, do you?”

He shook his head, amused by her ability to see right through him. “Not really, no. But I figured it couldn’t hurt. I'm sorry about Lavender.”

She shook her head. “Don’t apologize,” she said. “It wasn’t your fault she fancied you. I just overreacted...a bit.”

He raised his eyebrows. “A bit?”

“All right, a lot. I just I can’t believe you fancied her.”

“Well, I didn’t...I mean not really.”

“Ronald, that’s horrible.”

“I know,” he said somewhat guiltily. “It’s just she fancied me, and I guess I fancied that and before I knew it, it had gotten out of hand. Then you weren’t speaking to me—,”

Hermione scoffed. “Oh, so you were trying to stick it to me by snogging her? Real mature, that is.”

Ron found his ire rising. “Oh, and just what the fucking hell were you doing with McClaggen, then? Research into the mind of right arrogant pricks?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t!”

“Well, I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t....” he trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence.

But Hermione was having none of that. “If I hadn’t what, Ronald?” she folded her arms and waited and he knew she would wait. Because the only person more stubborn that him was her.

He knew he wasn’t about to admit to rational behavior, which is why he did not want to admit it.

“Ginnyutoldmeukissedkrum,” he said quickly and primarily to the floor.

“What?”

He sighed. He didn’t want to have this conversation. But maybe, just maybe, now wasn’t the time to leave things unsaid.

“Ginny told me you kissed Krum.”

Hermione blinked very fast for a few moments, the way she always did when she was thinking. She looked confused, then she looked agitated, then she looked annoyed. Very annoyed. At him.

“You mean two years ago?” she asked her voice dripping with derision.

His eyes looked at the floor again. “Well...yeah.”

“Let me get this straight: you started snogging Lavender because Ginny told you about me and Viktor?”

“Well, I started snogging Lavender because she started snogging me, but I can’t say that didn’t have something to do with it.”

Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes. She raked a hand through her hair. “This is all so silly. You could’ve talked to me about that, you know?”

“I can’t talk to you about him,” he said honestly. “It makes me crazy.”

“Why?!” she exploded. “Why does it drive you so mad?”

“Because,” he snapped, just as heated. “Because,” he said somewhat more calmly once he saw the look in her eyes. “I just...it’s the thought of him with you...instead...instead of me.”

He hoped he didn’t look as crestfallen or as foolish as he thought he sounded. But he was sure he saw pity in her expression.

“Oh, Ron,” she said softly. She shook her head again and he knew she was thinking that he was an idiot. “You didn’t even know I was a girl back then.”

He colored. “I did. I knew you were a girl. I just didn’t know back then that you meant something to me...as a girl, you know, not just a friend.”

She blinked and her face lifted in kind of a smile. “It’s all right,” she said. “I understand.”

“You do?” he said, surprised.

She nodded. “I go red with rage when I think about you and Lav-Lav.”

“I noticed,” he said wryly thinking of birds pecking his flesh.

“You know, all this could’ve been avoided if we had only spoken to one another,” she said with a resigned sigh.

He nodded. “You’re right. You're always right.”

“Not always.” She looked

“You know if I had known if we weren’t coming back here next year, if we might not be coming back at all...I would’ve asked you to the Yule Ball. I would've gone to Slughorn’s Christmas Do. But in my defense, I didn’t know you were asking me out.”

She raised her eyebrows, but he didn’t give her a chance to respond.

“I mean maybe I thought or maybe I hoped but it doesn’t matter. The point is if I had known how high the stakes were going to get, I would’ve done a lot of things.” He took a breath, not wanting the moment to pass. “Most of all, I would’ve done this.”

He leaned forward, way, way, way forward, since compared to him, she was practically house-elf sized. He waited for her to stop him, waited for her to push him away or flee from the expanding closeness between them.

In the back of his mind, he didn’t know if he had the right to do this, after all, no admissions of feelings had passed between them. Then again, maybe when you knew each other as well as they did, words were a little less necessary.

He kept leaning until their faces were inches apart. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears, his heart pounding dramatically.

His lips brushed against hers, softly, slowly asking a question. He thought he felt her gasp or shiver or something he couldn’t quite name. Her lips were soft and they tasted like honey. He pressed his against her lips harder, asking the question again.

She answered, her lips playing over his in return. God, he was kissing Hermione. And she was kissing him back. It was nothing like those lung-collapsing snog marathons with Lavender. It was soft and sweet and...intimate.

He dared himself to be bold, there was no point in turning back now. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. She felt small and frail against him and a wave of protectiveness ran through his veins, barely reined in by his desire to keep kissing her.

Her mouth opened and suddenly her taste was everywhere, on his tongue, in his mind, in his heart. Her hands clasped around his shoulders, bringing him deeper and he heard her moan slightly.

That one, little breathy exhalation went straight to his cock. All the things he wanted to do to her rushed through his brain in a series of flashes. Suddenly his lips were on her neck, chasing the sound that fell from her lips. Her skin was feather-soft against his lips and all he wanted to do was mark it, claim it as his own.

His lips lingered on a spot underneath her chin which caused another raspy moan, louder than the one before to fall from her lips.

Ron felt himself harden, and they were close enough where he knew she could feel it. Something in the back of his mind told him to stop, but he couldn’t. He was addicted to having her in his arms, on his skin, and the sounds and shudders she made as he touched her. His lips sought hers again for another deep, nearly bruising kiss.

His hands began to roam up her waist, she shifted closer to him, her foot kicking the backpack. One of the basilisk fangs fell out and clattered to the ground.

That one sound snapped Hermione back into reality. She pulled her lips away abruptly. Her hands left his shoulders and she moved an inch away.

Ron’s eyes shut open, afraid that he had gone too far, pushed past the limit. He waited for to say something. Waited for the inevitable heartbreak he knew was coming.

“We can’t do this,” she said softly.

He instantly deflated but tried to hide it. “You’re right,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t sound shaky. “I’m sorry, I should have never. I didn’t mean to...take advantage of you and I can’t blame you if you want to slap me or hex me or send more birds but I've still got scabs from that so if you could lay off—,”

“Ron, what are you talking about?” She looked up at him, confused. “You didn’t take advantage of me.”

They both blushed as the weight of their action sunk in.

“Soooo,” Ron tested the waters. “You don’t want to hex me?”

She laughed softly. “No, no, quite the opposite actually.”

He couldn’t help but beam at that. She placed a hand on his face, cupping his cheek. “We can’t do this...not now,” she quickly amended. “Right now, we don’t matter. The only thing that matters is—,”

“Harry,” interjected Ron. “The only thing that matters right now is Harry. Harry has to make it through.”

She dropped her hand from his face and matching sad, resigned smiles crossed their faces.

“We could die,” Ron said briefly. He wasn’t sad, or even upset about it. He knew it was a fact.

Hermione nodded. “We could. But that really doesn’t matter either, does it?” She shook her, frustration clouding her features. “You know, this year was a waste. When I think that we could’ve just...”

“Spent all year snogging,” Ron suggested for her. No use in beating around the bush anymore

She rolled her eyes. “You did spend half the year snogging.”

Ron shrugged sheepishly. “Well, yeah, but she wasn’t you.” He enjoyed the smile on her face at his words.

“Are you scared?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Not of dying. I’m more scared of what’ll happen if we don’t win. But I was scared of dying before I lived.”

“You’re not anymore?” she seemed surprised.

“Nope,” he said with a rakish grin. “I’ll get to remember the last five minutes for as long as I live. So, if You-Know-Who pops my clogs tomorrow, that’d be all right.”

She laughed. “You’re impossible.”

Ron grinned. “Yes, and you love me.” He had meant it as a joke, it was supposed to be a joke. But she didn’t laugh. She just stared into his eyes for a long pause.

When she did speak, her was clear and earnest. “I do.”

He felt like he’d gotten hit with a Stunning jinx. But then she was staring up at him with her huge brown eyes, a hint of fear at the edges and he realized she was waiting for him to say something.

“I do too,” he said quickly. She smiled and reached for his hand again, their fingers intertwined.

A long, sincere beat passed between the two of them. But it ended all too soon. “So, if we win and we don’t die,” she said an edge of humor. “Can I get one of your Weasley sweaters?”

He laughed. “You can have them all.”

“And your Quidditch jersey?”

“Let’s not get carried away,” he said, mockingly scandalized.

They stared at each other again and All Ron wanted to do was kiss her again. He thought she was thinking the same thing too, but she looked away.

“We’ve got to go. Your parents will be ready to leave soon.”

He nodded. She was right. “Yeah, yeah, we should. Oh, I totally forgot. Slughorn said we should go to the Storeroom, pick out whatever we think we may need.”

Hermione went straight into Hermione mode. “Ronald, why didn’t you say so? We haven’t got all day, have we? Let's go!”

She picked up the backpack, shrunk it down and stuck it in her pocket.

“Ronald, come on!” she beckoned him forward and out of the Chamber.

Despite everything, the danger they were in, the uncertainty of the future, and the deranged, powerful psychopath who wanted to destroy everything he held dear, all he could think of was if and when he’d ever kiss her again.

#fanfction #hp #hermione granger #ron weasley #romione #post-hpb #teaser

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unaskedformagnustheories · 4 years ago

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UNASKED FOR MAGNUS THEORY #4: THE SILENT

This week’s theory is one of my more self-indulgent. It’s also probably being proven wrong as I type. So if you see this and you’ve listened to MAG 181 already, try not to laugh at me too badly. I just want to get it down before I have to refile this Google Doc under “dead wrong” tomorrow. What is this crazy, semi-coherent theory you ask? Well? Basically I think Adelard Dekker, Mikaele Salesa, Gertrude Robinson(?), Gerard Keay, Christopher Meyer (and maybe the coroner’s uncle from MAG 36 and Alard Dupont) might have been part of an underground society that figured out how to weaponize the powers by fragmenting/channeling multiple entities at the same time - evading attention while manipulating things to their own end.

Read on for my decent into madness.

EXHIBIT A: The Key of Solomon. Acquired by Gertrude Robinson in 2007, The Key of Solomon caught my eye with the following passage - found on a torn scrap of paper found by The Archivist in his exploration of the tunnels under The Magnus Institute (MAG 70): “They have for adversaries the Satariel, or concealers, the Demons of absurdity, of intellectual inertia, and of Mystery”. While I don’t think actual demons will come into play this late in the game, this is a very interesting quote taken from a book that we later learn was “one of the few volumes that contained elements from several powers” (MAG 80). In that same episode Leitner confirms the book was destroyed after proving itself to be too volatile, but could it be Gertrude learned a few tricks before disposing of the thing? The person who told Jurgen Leitner about the books called them “coded spell books”, and while Leitner seemed dismissive of this description, I wonder if there’s a kernel of truth in the simplification.

EXHIBIT B: We know that opposing powers can cancel each other out. Gertrude used a man touched by The Vast to stop The Buried’s ‘Sunken Sky’ ritual. Heck, she contemplated using Gerry to stop The Unknowing because of his affiliation with The Eye. The Ceaseless Watcher has trouble seeing anything to do with The Dark, etc., etc., but what happens when you combine three or more powers? Answer: silence. Like Smirke’s buildings, and Breekon & Hope’s depot after it’s been cleared out - places where multiple powers interact are described as empty. Silent. Almost as if they can’t exist in one space without creating some sort of self-destructive feedback loop. Is it so impossible to think someone with enough canny could channel that? Use it for their own purposes? EXHIBIT C: Adelard Dekker. In MAG 63 whilst trapping the Not-Them in a table, the statement-giver observes that Dekker’s lips were “moving rapidly though no sound came out of them”. In other words, he was silent. Somehow managing to wield a power strong enough to actively contain the creature. It’s potentially a stretch, but Jon also notices Not!Sasha has torn strips of paper when he goes rifling in her desk (MAG 57). We know that Not!Sasha went poking about the tunnels as well. Is it possible she also took interest in the remains of The Key of Solomon? Was she trying to understand or gird herself against whatever had left her vulnerable when she was bound?

[Archivist’s Note: Dekker is also described as wearing an outfit similar to the one Gerry Keay is found in when he arrives at St. Thomas’ with Diego Molina. It might be a bit on the nose to assume there’s a uniform if these folks are as organized as I’m making them out to be (they could be completely free agents who stumbled on the same hack), but I’m also not saying there isn’t.] EXHIBIT D: Gerry Keay’s poster. One of the first times we see our collective dead gay goth son (MAG 4) the statement giver comments on a poster supposedly painted by Mr. Keay bearing the caption: “Grant us the sight that we may not know. Grant us the scent that we may not catch. Grant us the sound that we may not call”. Tacked onto the bottom of a giant eye, the painting seems to only lend itself to one entity, but we know Gerry never fully gave himself to The Eye and the caption seems to speak to concealment. To silence. Even mysterious scents seem to be a reoccurring phenomena in the Magnus universe in places touched by more than one power. Did he know more than he let on when he met Gertrude? Do I maybe just want his last thoughts to be more resonant? “[His mother] would not claim his last moment. He was silent” (MAG 63).

EXHIBIT E: When Gerry wakes up in St. Thomas he’s missing both a red-leather bound book, and a brass amulet (I need to make a separate post about how I think brass is used to trap/contain the entities at some point), but for now I’m mostly interested in the fact that he tells the nurse ‘Yes. For you, better beholding than the lightless flame” as if he has a choice. As if he has any modicum of control on what happens next.

CONCLUSION: This tinfoil hat really is tight. I might have to have it surgically removed. I know I didn’t really get into how Salesa is involved (really, it’s mostly because Annabelle Cane has taken an interest), or how I think he was meeting Alard Dupont in 1982 when Trevor Herbert killed him, or that I suspect if Gertrude was part of the gang, she went rogue and Salesa (and maybe Adelard?) faked his own death when they realized she was more of a threat than an ally. As always, I am very much aware that I’m probably over-complicating things and just need to go take a nap. SUPPLEMENTAL: I lied. I’m going to give a quick and dirty version of why I think brass is a method of containing the entities here:

1. Gerry’s brass pendant (MAG 12). 2. Brass grate covering the entrance to the Serapeum of Alexandria (MAG 53) 3. Brass boxes in Christopher Meyer’s house, holding assorted artifacts touched by the entities (MAG 60) 4. Brass urn requested by John Amherst (MAG 36) - this one’s odd because it’s requested by John Amherst, but if the coroner’s uncle who seems to know more than he’s letting on is a part of this same secret society here, Amherst might just be taunting him. Rubbing his face in it, as it were. 5. The Sarcophagus wrapped in copper bands (MAG 64). Copper, yes, but brass is an alloy made from combining copper & zinc, so this might just be an early attempt. 6. A brass handle is on the door containing the first victim from MAG 86, Tucked in. It is worth noting that the statement giver here, was convinced someone else had been in the house before he called the police. A belief that is ignored/dismissed. Could it have been someone we know trying to trap the beast? SUPPLEMENTAL TO THE SUPPLEMENTAL: In MAG 95, Basira is seen reading “Introduction to Alchemy” - talking about Venus and the various properties of copper. If there is something here, is she hip to the trade secret? She’s certainly extremely good at being silent/popping up without people noticing her, but I have no idea if it’s intentional, or if she’s just stumbled across something. Seriously, if you’ve made it this far, thank you for listening to my TED talk. You’re awesome. I’m insane, and I don’t know how the eff you pulled something sensible from that cesspool of text. but it’s fun not to be in this alone! Cheers

#the silent #tma #tma theories #the magnus archives #jon sims #jonathin sims #gerry keay #mikaele salesa #adelard dekker #gertrude robinson #basira hussain #the key of solomon #getting down to brass tacks #no?#that pun was awful?#alrighty #i'll be seeing myself out

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xellandria · 5 years ago

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The meatgrinder one-shot that was originally going to run this week got delayed a week because our DM got sick (feel better, Jim! <3), but that’s fine with me because it gave me time to finish off my characters. We’re each running three level 3s—I stole/borrowed/inherited one from one of our other players (who was feeling really character create-y lately), repackaged the backup character I’d rolled to continue in our main campaign if my current one died for the second, and then had one more slot to fill.

Littlehands - level 3 Kobold Warlock (Great Old Ones/Pact of the Chain) Str: 10 (0) Dex: 10 (0) Con: 14 (+2) Int: 13 (+1) Wis: 10 (0) Cha: 15 (+2)

Littlehands’ hands aren’t actually little for his regular body—they’re actually mostly proportional. Instead, he gets his name (nickname?) from his usual profession: hanging around with his pack of similarly-aged adolescent kobold friends, playing pranks on people by pretending to be a mysterious dragonborn. You know, the whole “kids in a trench coat” thing? Yeah that, except ~fantasy,~ lmao

At some point he got separated from his goonie squad—hence the lack of them here (though now I kinda want to design 3-4 more kobold teenagers, help)—though whether he’s actively searching for a way back or just kinda going with it is largely irrelevant since he’s almost certainly going to die during the one-shot. Unless his patron can save him. I dunno about that one, though...

In the meantime, he's also an Old Ones warlock, meaning he can telepathically speak to other language-speaking folks within 30 feet (regardless of whether they speak his languages or not). I like to think he's like that stereotypical thirteen-year-old on Xbox Live. You know, braggadocious, anything that goes wrong is obviously not his fault and here's why, lots of "suck my hemes" or "is your clutchmate hot" or "that's not what your mom said last night" nonsense. I have absolutely zero doubt that I will roleplay none of this when the time comes, given how low RP my group tends to be in general and the nature of this one-shot in particular, but that's fine lol Anyway his "patron" is Zoamelgustar from Slayers NEXT because why not, I know nothing about the lore in the 5e universe we're in and just because I got myself ridiculously attached to this throw-away character doesn't mean I have to take it all seriously at the same time. That's also where the clasp for his ridiculously oversized cloak and the belt buckle on his (currently girded because I was proud of my weird digitigrade legs on the first fullbody sketch I made and didn't want to cover them up lol) oversized skirt/kilt/whatever came from. Maybe he found a dead adventurer somewhere and stole their (her?) fancy bits, including a weird talisman to a deity whose horns were like, totally just like his, bro.

Littlehands is... not really a great character for pure D&D min-maxing—we use the array system for starting stats on these one-shots and there wasn’t a way to bump his charisma (and thus his spell modifiers and save DC) up one more point. On the flip side, I also couldn’t make his dex as low as I wanted to because Kobolds get a +2 dex mod so 10 was the lowest I could get it. I thought making him sort of clumsy because he’s wearing a gigantic oversized cloak (and gigantic oversized robe/skirt/kilt/whatever, though I’ve girded it in the full body sketches because I liked how his legs came out and didn’t want to cover them up lol) made sense, but I’ve done the best I can with what I had, lol. There’s a chance that we’ll level up these characters from 3 to 4 in the course of the one-shot, and at that point he’ll be a little better, but there’s no debating that he’s not really an optimized character. That’s fine, though, since he’s destined to die. Probably.

#xellart #dungeons and dragons #kobold #original characters #official art d&d kobolds have these weird dog noses pasted on reptile snouts #it's very strange but I guess that's just how we're gonna roll now #I had an actual reference/idea board for him #which was a novel experience #he's not super original but that's fine #I like him as is #(and he's not as cool as bob's littlehands but that's fine too)

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sincerelymarinette · 4 years ago

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A Recorded Life (48/50) - Miraculous Ladybug

Words: 1597 Chapter Summary: Time to figure out what they found at the Agreste Mansion and take some action. Soon enough this war with Hawkmoth will end... Author's Note: I lowkey love this chapter. Gives out underdogs some more screentime :) only two chapters left and I'm so excited to write them!! ALSO, IT'S OFFICIAL! There will be a mini-sequel!! Mayve 5-10 parts because I really want to touch on what happens after this story in my youtube au universe and I feel like the chapters of this youtube au have been lacking actual videos oops. Keep an eye out for that after the story ends! (On wattpad, it will be posted in the same book!)

Prev / Next / Masterlist

Tracking

---

Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Rena Rouge found everything they needed at the mansion. Alya was able to download pretty much everything on Gabriel's computer, even the locked stuff. It would take her a little longer to crack it, but she would get into that soon enough. Plus, there was a hit on the bug. They all knew it wasn't them because it was planted as they were leaving last time, and it wasn't Gorilla because he has been staying at the Bourgeois hotel to accommodate him while he's out of a job. He wouldn't go back to the Mansion; it would put him at risk, and Adrien didn't think that was a possibility.

Since the bug had a hit, they got out of the Mansion as fast as they could. They don't know what would happen if they ran into Hawkmoth without the full team, and with their guard down, it was better to stick together. Luckily, getting back to the bakery was easy, and as Alya worked on her computer with Nino, the other three listened to the bug.

There was a lot of muffled noise, like walking and random buzzing, but once they heard a deep voice, they all perked up. It wasn't the easiest thing to understand, but they were still able to get something out of it.

"That Akuma was a mistake," The voice of Adrien's dad grumbled. "They needed to shut up."

"Well, it's too late for that," Nathalie's voice came through much quieter. "We shouldn't even be here. We should get back to the-"

It got quiet, and the team assumed there was a silent action that made them stop. "No, I need to check on something," Gabriel insisted. "We will go back to being off the gird soon. Just trust me," He said.

"Yes," Nathalie said. "You're sure Adrien doesn't know about the Etserga home?" She asked.

"Positive. His mother and I kept it a secret from him just in case. Sure, this wasn't its intended use, but it's working-" They paused again. "They've been here...recently. We have to go," He said quickly, and their footsteps followed, running.

Adrien looked confused. "The what home?" He said just above a whisper.

"I heard et-something," Chloé said.

"Alya," Marinette turned to her. "Anything about a home starting with e-t?" She asked. Alya nodded as she typed away, and a few seconds later, put her head in her hand.

She sighed loudly. "Well, we never did say Hawkmoth was the smartest. He's got something in here about Etserga, but it's a locked folder. I'll get into it, just give me a few minutes," Alya said. "But that's Agreste spelled backward," She laughed slightly and went back to typing.

Adrien turned back to the group and looked more confused than before. "I wonder why they kept it a secret from me," He said. "Seems like they were always planning to do something evil."

Marinette put her hand on Adrien's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Adrien," She said. "You know we're right here with you. He won't get away with this."

Adrien didn't respond, but a small smile grew on his face, and he shut his eyes, laying his head on Marinette's shoulder.

---

"I don't know how much time we'll have," Rena Rouge warned as she held her flute in one hand and her phone in the other. "I can hold the Mirage of us, but we don't want to take any risks," She said.

"We'll be quick," Carapace promised. "We just need to get confirmation that this is the right place," He reminded.

Queen Bee scoffed as she nearly tripped in the forest. "No wonder Adrien didn't know about this place, it's in the middle of nowhere!" She complained.

"Yeah, I think that's the point of a hideout," Carapace joked. "I still don't understand why they didn't tell him."

"Gabriel's weird, why would he?" Rena Rouge said. "Okay, stop, we're getting close," She said and put her phone down and bringing her flute to her mouth. Once she finished her song, the three blended in with the forest surrounding them. They didn't want to get too close, but this would protect them from even having the chance to be seen. "We have to be quiet, too, don't forget," She told them.

The three heroes were silent once they got closer, they had no idea what could be in this forest, and they don't want to be caught off guard. If Hawkmoth found them snooping around, they would lose everything they've been working towards.

"There's a house," Queen Bee whispered and pointed straight ahead.

"That's gotta be it," Rena Rouge nodded, looking down at her phone and back up at the house. It wasn't very big, and looked a bit run down. Probably to make it look like no one lived there, keep it out of any suspicion.

The group moved out of direct sight of the house and hid behind a few trees. "Just because he can't see us doesn't mean we shouldn't be careful," Rena Rouge said. "Let's do this quick and get back to Marinette and Adrien," She said.

"Got it," Both Carapace and Queen Bee responded at the same time.

"Shell off," Carapace called quietly. It took Wayzz a few seconds to adjust to being out of the bracelet, and Nino gave him a quick snack. Once Wayzz adjusted, he took his part in the plan. Wayzz sighed. "He's definitely in there; I can feel Nooroo. He's sad and nervous," He said. "I've felt Nooroo before, but this is much worse," He reported.

Rena Rouge nodded. "Great. I'll let Marinette know we're coming back. Suit up and let's get out of here," She said. "This ends soon."

---

Adrien and Marinette sat out the visit to the woods. They knew Alya, Nino, and Chloé could handle it alone, and it could have caused issues if all five went. Besides, Adrien was exhausted, and if they were right, this fight could happen sooner than expected, and Adrien needed to be rested.

He still couldn't believe that his mother was in a secret garden basement the whole time. It had been years, and he thought he and his father had finally gotten through all the pain...but no. Adrien needed a mental break, which is also why they stayed back.

Adrien and Marinette sat on the couch with a random movie playing. Adrien was focused on the movie, and it was nice to have a distraction. Marinette distracted herself with editing a fashion video she filmed a few weeks ago- she had a few as "in case" recordings if she was going to miss an upload day. Though her upload streak has majorly died recently, due to essential circumstances, editing videos always got her mind focused and off the superhero world.

She decided to take a break and look at some recent comments on her videos. She was a little afraid of what she would find, but she wanted to know what her fans thought.

I miss marinettes daily videos but i hope her and everyone is doing okay. I can't imagine the kind of mental and psycial stress the crew is under right now. Mari, we stand behind you!!

I love mari and her crew. I can't wait for them to kick hm's ass once and for all. You guys got this!

ugh i get why she cant upload but i miss her and adrien. they always make me so happy

Adrien idk if you read mari's comments but if you do: I love you and I hope you're doing okay, I can't imagine what you're going through and I wish you the best. Mari give Adrien a big hug from all of us!

I can't wait to see how the world changes after they get rid of hawkmoth, like that will be iconic. I hope they record his demise.

> I hope they don't, that will be traumatic for Adrien to see everywhere. For all of them really, please be considerate

>> yes taking him down will be iconic, but we need to remember they are actual people...TEENAGERS having to do this

mari adrien alya nino chloe thank you

Mari is a BOSS, you're doing amazing. I'll keep watching all your videos over and over and over again to keep supporting you in any way I can. I'm not from Paris but i know they love you!!

Marinette was pleasantly surprised by how kind most of her comments were. They were sensitive to her situation, but she wasn't sure what changed. She hasn't been on social media at all recently, so maybe some nationwide campaign about being kind to the heroes happened. Honestly, she wouldn't be surprised at this point. Nothing really surprises her anymore.

"They're there!" Alya, Nino, and Chloé shouted as the burst through the door.

The sudden noise scared Marinette and Adrien, and they were both staring at the group with wide eyes, more awake than ever. "Wayzz could feel Nooroo. We found them," Alya clarified.

"Great," Marinette nodded, set her computer on the couch, and stood up. "Then we go through with the plan."

"If I may," Wayzz flew from behind Nino. "You all are a great team and I support the plan. But please remember that Hawkmoth has made it clear that he does not care that you are kids or his son. He is ruthless," Wayzz said. "And he's not holding back anymore."

Marinette looked from Adrien to Tikki, who was floating next to her. She looked back at the group as a whole. "Then neither are we."

---

@lady-of-the-roses-and-lilies @bookishserendipity03 @avatheexceed @gkz10 @coccinellegirl @kat-thatoneweirdo @strawberryblondish @snow-swordswoman @lilgaga98 @evufries @toodaloo-kangaroo

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nationsleet54 · 4 years ago

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Wedding Dresses Custom Made Only In Order To

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Bride and groom hug. Ảnh Cưới of the wedding where wedding event mass ceremony is sealed by your son's bride and groom by getting. Wedding photos won't be complete without this traditional injection.

Have your son's bride and groom make a "shot" database. No, I don't mean a regarding their favorite drinking shots; I mean a connected with the photography shots they will be guaranteed to have taken on their big event. Here are some Wedding photo shot examples: bride with mother, bride with maid of honor, special couple with bride's maternal grandparents, etc. You will probably want them to get as specific as possible and go over it with these types of make sure they didn't leave anyone out. A married relationship day "shot" list additionally give you something to search off when you take each picture. Don't let record cramp your creativity, don't use anything but it making certain everyone of significance on the bride and groom find yourself a picture with them. If are usually space concerns, you will want to get the enclosed arcade style booths. Since lighting plays the key role in photography, you need to ensure it really is appropriate. With arcade booths, there isn't any problem regarding additional lights as the particular enclosed but is appropriate concern when you go using open booths. Then, ensure the wedding photographer gets a duplicate of record as well as the planner when it comes to trusted lover. This way, you can make sure the wedding photographer knows what to anticipate and a person is there making sure nothing is skipped. When you rent a photo booth, typically comes through having an attendant who assists people in operating the software and ensures it works fine. Yet, if your photo booth doesn't a great attendant, print the instructions and stick them in the booth guests. Included in two different types, classic arcade and open booths, these booths offer fun to your guests. Classic boxed-in booths are just a little cozy and fit in 2-4 people at a time whereas open booths can accommodate around 10 friends. Make positive that you and also the wedding photographer have a understanding of the you are having. If you didn't discuss black and white photos with him prior to your shoot but have some listed, he or she not gird yourself. When you consider a winter wedding, it is not just indoor photographs that is actually special. There are many wonderful tips for outdoor pictures too, weather permitting. It really is a regarding fun to bundle up in a beautiful velvet wrap or fur coat and head outside for a (brief!) photo session. Is acceptable of a bride dressed in her white gown and glistening bridal jewelry against a snowy white background is truly breathtaking. Think about how dramatic it glimpse to have the groom within a black tux set against all that white. Situations scene dimension by standing near some trees with striking papers. The Ring Shot - Long gone are the days of taking pictures of your wedding day rings regarding bride and grooms poker hand. Now, the rings are photographed on their own, sometimes with props such as scrabble correspondence. Artfully arranging the rings on the flower stem, putting them on a shadow hand in the sand or stacking them by letter tiles spelling out "I Do" are all great approaches to showcase the symbolic bracelet.

#Chụp Ảnh Cưới

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chrysalispen · 5 years ago

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a very rough bit of sappiness from a WIP i have on the back burner, just so y’all know i’m not dead LMAO

====

Standing frozen before her bedchamber door all but vibrating with anxiety, trying not to grab handfuls of the Doman dressing robe that had been a nameday gift to herself last year, Aurelia found herself wondering what in all the seven hells she was thinking.

While still a student at the Valetudinarium she had attended a bridal shower for a young woman whose mother had been a friend of her aunt's. The majority of the gifts bestowed upon the bride had been of the practical variety, but she recalled in particular one carefully wrapped box passed amidst the flurry of gifts and foods and the nigh-unending flow of Dalmascan merlot. It had come with a knowing wink and a "to be shared with your husband."

That message had been as cryptic to her as an Allagan hieroglyphic, until the moment the box’s lid had been removed and a chorus of piercing shrieks had erupted in scandalized delight at its contents: a sheer lacy black corset and a matching scrap of fabric that barely qualified as smallclothes.

A maid of seventeen winters not long in the capitol, she had never seen its like before. Her shocked reaction had prompted a fresh wave of laughter and not a few mutters about "rustic sensibilities" as the giggling bride placed the box on the hearth along with the piles of other gifts. She still recalled her own wide-eyed stare and the embarrassed heat in her cheeks, as she'd caught sight of both in the reflection of the mantelpiece mirror.

Over ten years later, peering into a hallway mirror to view the results of painstaking preparation, she felt the same distressing sense of acute self-consciousness. This set covered far more skin than that remembered bridal gift, but the delicate-looking straps of the garter belt supporting her thigh-high silk stockings somehow seemed every bit as salacious as that bare scrap of cloth. They peeked slyly beneath the hem of her robe like a half-revealed secret, no matter how snugly she wrapped it about herself for some semblance of modesty.

She was, if she were entirely honest, about two seconds away from hiding in her closet for the rest of the night.

Oh, for the gods' swiving sake, Laskaris, you can face a bleeding legatus on the battlefield but you can't be seen in some frivolous Thavnarian frippery? Gird your loins - with that ridiculous robe if it please you - and get on with it.

Unclenching her fists, Aurelia quickly opened the door- and paused, lingering small and shy and hesitant at the threshold. Nero still sat in her chair at the writing desk where she kept her journals, awaiting her return. His normally straight and exacting posture was a relaxed forward slouch, the laces of his fine shirt loose and open, chin braced upon his knuckles and his elbow upon the desk's well-worn surface.

She could follow that characteristically hawkish gaze of his through the gap in the gauzy curtains of her bedroom window to their idle contemplation of the night sky beyond, if she cared to do so. She might have done in truth, were she not so charmed by the look of him in the moonlight, strangely serene and for once quite untroubled by the workings of the world.

A peasant's face, her aunt would have sniffed: its features were what the aristocratic sensibilities of the capitol would call ‘coarse.’ Broad and strong and quite often haggard- although as he sat lost in whatever thoughts held his attention in that moment, the angles and lines of his face were nearly smooth, and the watery light lent an almost dreamlike cast to high cheekbones and strong nose and square jaw. Even his ever-present shadow of a beard seemed lovely to her eyes. It gleamed in soft shades of aurum and auburn upon alabaster, deliberate suggestions of a painter's sponge upon a canvas.

No matter the time of day, it was a face she privately loved to look upon, especially when he seemed to be happy- or, at the very least, content. She wasn’t all that certain she had ever seen him genuinely happy, and the thought was both saddening and sobering.

But, she thought, it was accurate. Nero was possessed of a quick mind, a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue. He was also an intensely private man - as secretive about his true self as he was his personal junkets - and so unguarded instances like this one were so few and far between that she had learned to appreciate them. He’d notice her silent perusal quickly enough, of course; he would let fly some witticism or other and she would respond in kind. This soft window would fall shut before her eyes like all the others and perhaps it might resurface at some later date and perhaps it would not.

It was all very predictable- and probably, Aurelia thought, also for the best. She feared these moments as much as she cherished them, for she was always afforded the briefest glimpses of a man she knew it would be possible to love were he ever to allow it.

And were you ever possessed of sufficient courage to wish for it.

--but tonight was not the night for such somber considerations. She had made a promise, one she intended to keep.

The sound of the falling latch at her back wrested his attention away from the window, and the moon's spell was broken.

Even so, he nearly returned to his quiet contemplation for all of a brace of seconds before her sigh caused him to snap sharply upright in his seat, startling at her presence in a double take that might have been comical were the entire situation not so nerve-wracking.

She offered an uncertain smile, arms still folded over her chest. "Did I interrupt?"

"Not at all. You were on that call for quite some time." She didn't have to see his smirk to know it was there; she heard it in the teasing note of his voice. He was humoring her, knew she was dancing around some subject or other, simply wasn't sure what or why. "I was half-minded to send a search party."

She was very aware of the thin silk of her robe's hem whispering against flesh, perhaps an ilm or two higher than the lacy tops of the hosiery. The straps on her thighs and the metal clasps that braced her stockings would be visible the moment she stepped into the golden corona of light cast upon the floor by her lamp.

Anxiety nearly overwhelmed her again and she froze in place, uncertain how to proceed.

"I-..." Her mouth felt as dry as the dunes of the Sagolii. "Yes, I suppose I was. I..."

She made her slow approach on near-silent feet, hands clutching at her silk: staring at the floor, at the window, at the wall, anywhere but his face. Above all, she was afraid to see the sardonic amusement that must surely be writ large in his eyes. She knew she could not possibly be the least bit enticing, stammering and sweating mess that she was. She didn't need the reminder.

She drew up short when her shin struck the lip of the chair.

He'd shifted his knees, spreading them apart to allow her space. One of his hands settled over one of her white-knuckled fists where it grasped a handful of silk and curled so tightly into the weave that her fingernails had distended the fabric (a distant part of her mind fretted over it; she'd probably ruined the godsdamned thing).

"....I had something to give you," she began. With a deft touch his fingers wound into the curl of her grip as if it were a piece of malfunctioning machinery and gently divested it of the silk she'd clutched. "It's... it's a surprise, so..."

"Not the robe, I assume."

There it was again, that smile in his voice, the one that put her in mind of a cat playing with a mouse it had caught. She paused, an idea blossoming to life in the back of her mind.

"No, not the robe. It's- actually, can I borrow your hands for a moment-... oh hells." She'd caught the unintentional innuendo a moment too late to take it back, and as if on cue, she saw the white flash of that toothy grin in the heartbeat before Nero began to cackle. "Damn it, no! I meant-"

He was openly laughing now. His hands had dropped to brace her hips, squeezing affectionately through thin silk.

Aurelia was so annoyed at her own clumsiness that she quite forgot her anxiety, and released a loud and irritable sigh, her posture drooping with disappointment like a wilting flower. "This was not my intention, I shall have you know."

"I am quite aware. Were you attempting to seduce me? Gods know I'm flattered, I'm just trying to figure out why the deuce you're acting like a bride on her wedding night." Playfully he tugged at the now quite rumbled panel over one of her breasts. "Are you naked under there or are you hiding contraband? Is that it? Diamonds? The imperial crown? A very small basket of coeurl kittens?"

Hells below, now she was laughing, hard enough to make her legs wobble. The whole mishap was too bloody ridiculous not to find humor in it.

"I'll keep guessing if you don't tell me," he warned. She swatted at his fingers, tried to scowl, ruined the effect by shrieking with laughter when he began to tickle her sides. "Is this some sort of extremely specific roleplay? Am I meant to be punishing you for a smuggling infraction-"

"Smuggling infraction," she chortled, gasping with laughter, "Scaeva, you pillock-"

"Oh, Tribunus, I've been a very naughty girl," he trilled, "perhaps if you would let me go I might show you the kitten in my pocket-"

She took the opportunity to attack his sides, cackled when he yelped and tried to grab her wrists. They mock-wrestled for a handful of moments, until her legs gave out beneath the force of her own mirth. Nero caught her as she pitched forward and buried her face against his chest, howling with the absurdity of it all.

It felt good, cathartic even, and all her low-level terror vanished.

Mutual accord came about when each abandoned their efforts in turn. Aurelia sat upright to see the other Garlean smiling at her, his hair already tousled, still chuckling.

"Contraband," she scoffed aloud. "Honestly, this robe barely covers my arse let alone aught of substance."

Put at her ease and amused by the night's misadventure despite herself, Aurelia paid little heed to the fact of her modest weight seated astride his long legs- until the friction of warm, rough palms skimming over the tops of her stockings served as a sudden reminder. The lower hem of her robe had slipped out of place during their tussle; the Doman silk sat bunched nearly at her waist, leaving her thighs exposed to his perusal.

Deft fingers continued their lazy exploration, pausing just long enough to catch in the garter belt's suspenders and give each ribbon a cheeky little tug, until their owner was bestowed with two generous handfuls of backside, neatly wrapped in soft lace and satin.

He gave a slow and experimental squeeze, and any retort she might have made died upon her lips before it could form.

"Contraband," the one-word observation was delivered with such a deadpan blandness that it would have been simplicity itself to miss the avaricious gleam in his eyes. His smile had turned from playful to wickedly speculative.

A soft laugh, this one ever so slightly tremulous, spilled forth from her throat - not nervousness, but anticipation.

His hands gave her rear another squeeze before retreating: calloused fingers tracing patterns in the lace and dragging against plush smoothness, coming to rest upon the tops of her thighs. She could hear her heart hammering in her ears. His eyes were the color of a clear Coerthan sky, wintry and bright.

"May I?" He leaned forward until he was close enough to rest his head against hers, the soft heat of his breath whispering against her cheekbone. She could feel the slight indent in her skin: his third eye pressed carefully against the smooth ridge of her brow. It was a gesture as intimate as any kiss. At length, she was able to whisper: “I was rather hoping you would.”

#chrysalispen writes #just some sappy shit with idiots in denial

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thegreatcorpus · 4 years ago

Text

Leyte Normal University

College of Arts and Sciences

Language and Literature Unit

EVALUATION OF MEDIA CONTENT TRHOUGH LANGUAGE USE

A Concept Paper

Submitted by:

FRNZA MAE G. ARCEGA

JOSHUA D. DAGAMI

MARY JANE LABUTAP

BAEL AE2-1

Submitted to:

MR. ROGELIO TICOY, JR.

Instructor, Language and Media

July 15, 2020

DEFINITION OF TERMS

The term “media linguistics” has been formed based on the combination of two key components “media” and “linguistics”, the subject of this new discipline is the study of language functioning in the sphere of mass communication. In other words, media linguistics deals with overall complex research of a particular social field of language usage. (Luginbühl, 2015)

Language registers refer to the levels of formality are used in different situations and scenarios. It is important to be conscious on how we are going to use language appropriately in presenting our messages, when to use a specific register and in what type of media platform it should be used. Topic, audience, purpose and location should be taken into consideration when choosing a register. According to Nordquist (2019), “there are five existing language registers. It includes frozen/static register, formal register, consultative register, casual register and intimate register.

Language style also known as stylistics, is the study of style used in literary, and verbal language and the effect the writer/speaker wishes to communicate to the reader/hearer. It attempts to establish principles capable of explaining the particular choices made by individuals and social groups in their use of language. It strengthens the contact with the reader and heightens their awareness. (Lamichhane, 2017)

Grammar refers to the structural regulations and rules that govern the construction of phrases, sentences and words in any language. This is because they are extremely important for the communication that is desired. Although, some might argue that correct grammar and spelling does not really matter, especially in advertising, like what Paul Suggett (2010, as mentioned in Sommerfield, 2014) statement “A sentence that is structured beautifully, obeying all the laws, and bylaws, of the English language, is not what advertising is all about. In fact, in advertising you don’t even need to use real words, good sentence structure, and proper punctuation, or obey any of the rules that were drummed into you in school.” Indeed, using grammar seems like an uphill battle, but media content without it is a suicide.

Semiotics, also called semiology, is the study of signs and sign-using behavior. The Swiss Linguist Ferdinand de Saussure, one of its founders, defined it as the study of “the life signs within the society”. On the other hand, American Philosopher Charles Sandres Pierce defined sign as “something which stands to somebody for something” and contributed its categorization into three namely: icon, index and symbol. He added that a sign can never have a definite meaning, for the meaning must be continuously qualified. (Encyclopaedia Britannica, 2020)

Pragmatics deals with utterances, by which we will mean specific events, the intentional acts of speakers at times and places, typically involving language. Logic and semantics traditionally deal with properties of types of expressions, and not with properties that differ from token to token, or use to use, or, as we shall say, from utterance to utterance, and vary with the particular properties that differentiate them. (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, 2019)

INTRODUCTION

Media is deeply rooted in our lives that it is significant in our personal lives, as well as in business, politics and society. Its importance has grown exponentially. It seems like the world is lifeless without it.

Rapid development of the print and the electronic media, quick growth of virtual communications and the Internet have enormously changed people’s lives, giving stimuli for the development of the whole range of information society theories. (Luginbühl, 2015) It creates an overwhelming feeling which made people to take every information that is served on the table. Oftentimes, it misleads people that is why it is important to critically think and evaluate media content.

Patton (1987) defined evaluation as “a process that critically examines something. It involves collecting and analyzing information which include its activities, characteristics and outcomes. It is done in order to make judgments and to ensure that they are as effective as they can be. It can help us identify media content.

This paper aims to provide criteria that will help media users in evaluating media content of different types of media through language use.

DICUSSION

Media content can be evaluated through representation, audience, institutions, language, ideology, narrative and genre, but we are only going to focus on how language is used in these media types. It is also called as media linguistics.

There are six different types of media: Print Media, Visual Media, Electronic Broadcasting Media, Outdoor Media, Transit Media and Digital Media. Each media type will be evaluated on how language is used, specifically language registers, language style, grammar, semiotics and pragmatics.

PRINT MEDIA

Print media represents the oldest and the most widespread type of mass media published on paper. It includes books, circulars, journals, lithographs, memos, magazines, newspapers, pamphlets, and periodicals. (Oxford Reference, 2020)

Evaluating print media content in terms of:

Registers: Papers with an international audience usually use formal register.

Stylistics: It follows formal type of writing. it also uses a hierarchy of information to guide the consumer’s attention towards the most important statement/topic. Claims or statements are supported with evidence either in text or figure. Author’s information is usually detailed to make it easy for prospects to contact them and it holds them accountable for any problems on their published article.

Grammar: In this type of media, correct grammar and spelling should be observed. Based on the study conducted by Appelman & Bolls (2011), grammatical errors can affect the credibility of news stories and the amount of time and effort required to read them. Such errors increases reading difficulty and lower readers’ perception of credibility.

Semiotics: Effective print media design is bold and clear. Fonts should be easy to read and high quality graphics should work together. A few prominent graphics will do a much better job that having numerous elements scattered throughout the page. Contrast is everything. It highlights the most important parts of the message to create some visual appeal. Monotone color palette or tones that are very similar to each other are refrained from using.

Pragmatics: The main function of headlines and titles is to inform the reader briefly about the text that follows. They also signal of the paper’s attitude to the facts reported. Also semantically, the headline can be interpreted due to its literal meaning and inferences that readers reach depending on their cognitive knowledge. In order to demonstrate the meaning in its full efficiency, pragmatic aspects are also helpful in specifying the purpose of the article by making appropriate sense. The writer can use different stylistic devices such as discourse markers and connectors, metaphors, rhetorical questions, and emotive words to facilitate the interpretation of the utterances and attract readers’ attention. (Ismail, 2016)

VISUAL MEDIA

Visual Media as defined by the International Visual Literacy Association is ‘a group of vision competencies a human being can develop by seeing and at the same time having and integrating other sensory experiences. (Welsh & Wright, 2010) In addition to this, it is as a set of competencies that ‘enable a visually literate person to discriminate and interpret the visual actions, objects, and/or creative use of these competencies, we are able to communicate with others. (Debes, 1969) it includes images, paintings, videos and infographics.

Evaluating visual media content in terms of:

Registers: Papers with an international audience usually use formal or casual register to attract a wider scope of audience. Lasquite (n.d.) stated, that visual communication is a key component in visual content marketing. Every marketer understands the value of sending the right message to consumers.

Stylistics: Content of this type of media is not going to be plain and boring if they are full of interesting characters and places, if they are connected to themes like good vs. evil etc. and if they have engaging prose that the audience can appreciate.

Grammar: Bradley (2010) said that design elements are like letters and words. When we add design principles and apply them to our elements, our words, we form a visual grammar. As we learn to use both we enable ourselves to communicate visually. In life we can communicate through the spoken word or through gestures. In design we’re bound by a visual language. Even the words on the page are made up of characters of type which are abstract shapes. Written language itself is a visual representation of spoken language. Bradley also stated that the visual grammar, is the context within which we study design principles. When we learn to use girds or better understand typography or color we are doing so in order to communicate more effectively with our audience. The principles are the trees. Visual grammar is the forest.

Semiotics: Parsa (n.d.) stated that in visual semiotics iconic signs look like its object. They are more ‘motivated’ signs. The indexical signs draw attention to the thing to which it refers. The symbol signs, - e.g. a red rose is a symbol of ‘passion’ in Valentine’s Day and means ‘love’– are unmotivated or arbitrary. In a different culture this color of flower may not signify ‘passion’ or ‘love’. Also, any information, if not directly provided, is gained via a process of interpretation. Texts are not always produced recognizable codes in a communicative process. Usage of symbolic narratives, metaphors and metonymy may restrain the comprehension and signification of the text. In other words, in the exploration of the connotations and the associations, one requires to “make interpretations”. It also includes the material used, camera angles and color filters.

Pragmatics: David Lodge, writing in the Paradise News, says that pragmatics gives humans "a fuller, deeper, and generally more reasonable account of human language behavior." Without pragmatics, there is often no understanding of what language actually means, or what a person truly means when she is speaking. The context—the social signs, the image, body language, and tone of voice (the pragmatics)—is what makes utterances clear or unclear to the speaker and her listeners.

ELECTRONIC BROADCASTING MEDIA

Electronic media is the media that one can share on any electronic device for the audiences viewing, internet to transmit facts, skills, understanding, knowledge and appreciation with the aims of to attract general publics in general and marketers in particular. Popular examples of electronic media are television and radio. (Wikipedia, 2020)

Evaluating electronic broadcasting media content in terms of:

Registers: Electronic broadcasting media sometimes use formal register because less rigid but still constrained, where communication is expected to be respectful, uninterrupted, and restrained. Slang is never used and contractions are rare. However, it also uses consultative register. often in conversation when they are speaking with someone who has specialized knowledge or who is offering advice

Stylistics: Electronic broadcasting media is combined with a general negative view against excessive foul language has tempered electronic broadcasting into a much more “family friendly” media form. They use electromechanical energy or electronics for public to access the content. Main resources of electronic media are CD-ROM, online content, slide presentations, audio recordings, video recordings and multimedia presentations. Emotional appeal and repetition is highly observed.

Grammar: Electronic broadcasting media encompasses any form of media that is primarily consumed through listening. The grammars that they used in conveying the information to the audience are appealing and interested in the ears and eyes of the viewer.

Semiotics: Electronic broadcasting media uses connotation since they are designed to generate culturally-significant meanings. Iconic sign is usually used in advertisements of this media type. Advertisers do this, not only through repetition, but also through the combining of symbols, bringing words, images and music together into one meaningful and coherent composition.

Pragmatics: Its language contains plural codes, which interact to create new meanings or messages. Electronic broadcasting media uses the language without any opinion to the audience and convey the information just like they are interacting to the audience.

OUTDOOR MEDIA

Outdoor media is typically consisting of any advertising seen outside of the home, and is primarily grouped into a few specific categories such Billboards, posters and transit to name a few. Outdoor advertisements are the best medium to inform the moving population. Once an advertisement board is installed at a place, it usually remains there for a fairly longer period. What is best in outdoor media is that it can be displayed at a place where best impact can be created. (Nguyen, 2020)

Evaluating outdoor media content in terms of:

Registers: It uses casual register because it is probably use when you consider how you talk with other people, often in a group setting—marketers to be specific. Use of slang, contractions, and vernacular grammar is all common in Outdoor media. Also, Outdoor media uses the static register wherein it contains government agency rules, proposed rules, and public notices.

Stylistics: Outdoor media often uses public notices in advertising to different locations. It also uses figurative languages to make their advertisement more reliable and catchier to the commuters or even to the tourists. Outdoor media uses visual techniques to make the viewers more attentive and languages are more powerful in visualizing their ads for the commuters and tourists to have a desirable view.

Grammar: Just like any advertising and marketing strategy, outdoor advertising requires research and preparation so that their use of grammar may not be mistaken because it can affect their viewer’s insight about their advertisement.

Semiotics: When it comes to branding and advertising, semiotics can provide some amazing insights. In some cases, the sign can be an exact representation of the thing being signified, while in other cases, it may be a symbol associated with it. In outdoor media, they use image to visualize the product being sold. They also use word to convey a message with the same effectiveness as an entire picture. It uses the Rule of Thirds and The Golden Mean.

Pragmatics: Outdoor media uses words and images to advertise their products and the words and pictures that they are using, connects to the understanding of the people. The words and images they used are more attractive, catchy and have a bigger size for their viewers to be more interested in their advertisement.

TRANSIT MEDIA

Transit media refers to advertising placed in, on, or around modes of public transportation: buses, subways, and taxis, as well as at bus, train, and subway stations. Transit media can be a great way to reach a really diverse audience: families traveling to daycares, professionals heading to work, tourists navigating a new town, or even students making their way to a local coffee shop. (Hendricks, 2020)

Evaluating transit media content in terms of:

Registers: Conversational register is often used in this type of media because of its target audience.

Stylistics: Placing a message outside targets a larger audience and is recognized by three quarters of passing individuals. It serves as a last minute reminder or as impulse motivator at pricely a time when real and potential consumers are on the move. Exterior bus posters, displayed on the front, back, and sides of the vehicle, offer advertisers high exposure, particularly in largeurban areas. There are commuters and tourists, or people in cabs, rental cars, and on foot who can see the rolling billboard go by. According to "The Complete Guide to Creative Out-Of-Home Media Forms," bus exteriors are available in 80 to 85 percent of the top 100 markets in the United States on more than 36,500 buses. The bus exteriors provide "mass audience exposures" that are repeated and reinforced as they follow the same routes every day. The more innovative, intriguing and humorous it is, the better.

Grammar: The message should be brief consisting of at least 3-5 words.

Semiotics: It also helps that nearly all transit ads are available at eye level with large graphics and text. The message should be legible. Colors are used to contrast each other. It builds a recognizable format or layout that catches the briefest eyes contact.

Pragmatics: Every transit agency that advertises has guidelines dealing with "objectionable" material. The problem comes in defining what might fall into that category. Seventy percent of the respondents indicated that they had formal, written guidelines addressing ad content. The restrictions differ throughout the transit industry, but generally include some variation of the following prohibited content: illegal, indecent, or immoral ads; political, alcohol, or tobacco ads; libelous, obscene, or profane ads; ads that ridicule individuals or groups of people; advocacy of or opposition to a religion, denomination, tenet, or belief; violent, criminal, or anti-social behavior; false, misleading, or deceptive ads; adult materials and services; explicit sexual material; pornography or businesses that traffic in pornography; and advertising that appears as graffiti, gang signs, or symbols.

DIGITAL MEDIA

Digital media are any media that are encoded in machine-readable formats. Digital media can be created, viewed, distributed, modified and preserved on digital electronics devices. Examples of digital media include software, digital images, digital video, video games, web pages and websites, social media, digital data and databases, digital audio such as MP3, electronic documents and electronic books. (Richard, 2013 as mentioned in Wikepedia, 2020).

Evaluating digital media content in terms of:

Registers: It uses casual register or consultative register because it is probably use when you consider how you talk with other people, often in a group setting—marketers to be specific.

Stylistics: User-generated content raises issues of privacy, credibility, civility and compensation for cultural, intellectual and artistic contributions. The spread of digital media, and the wide range of literacy and communications skills necessary to use it effectively, have deepened the digital divide between those who have access to digital media and those who don't. Each digital media network has its own intended purpose and audience. Understanding this and matching your content and tone to the proper social media outlet is imperative for success..

Grammar: Gumpart & Cathcart examined how new media develop their own grammars, the way individual acquire media literacy, and the effect of media literacy on ways people relate to the world and each other. It concludes that people develop different states of media consciousness based upon the… media grammars, and that particular consciousness produce media gaps which separate people.

Semiotics: When it comes to graphics, it uses color psychology. Photos and videos can boost your social media strategy. Tweets that feature images earn 150 percent more retweets are favorited 89 percent more and lead to 18 percent more clicks. Typing in all capital letters is visually alarming, they also communicate that you’re upset (and yelling) about something. It should be avoided. When used correctly, hashtags will increase your online visibility and followers. When used in excess, it looks spammy and becomes ineffective.

Pragmatics: Its language contains speech acts like constatives (assertive, concessives, suggestive, suppositive, responsive), directives (request, question & requirement), expressives (thank, accept, reject, negative opinion & positive opinion) and attachments (link, code & log).

CONCLUSION

Media has evolved rapidly over the last couple of centuries. These changes brought a lot of convenience in accessing different types of information, from typical newspapers to our smartphones. It provided an ocean of information these days, but “we need to be critical enough not to drown in hoaxes and misinformation.” Hence, it is our duty to be responsible consumers of information, regardless of media type, and to examine every small detail we see and hear on the media. Indeed, “media is a blessing for humans as it plays a vital role in our personal lives and many other walks of our lives.” It lies upon us who decide whether “media is a blessing or a curse.”

REFERENCES:

Gray, J. (2008). How to move into moving media: Transit Media. Journal of Marketing. Retrieved from https://journals.co.za/content/mfsa1/2008/04/EJC74350

Gumpert, G. & Cathcart, R. (2009). Media grammars, generations, and media gaps. Retrieved from https://doi.org/10.1080/15295038509360059

Appelman, A. & Bolls, p. (2011). Article Recall, Credibility Lower with Grammar Errors. Newspaper Research Journal. Retrieved from https://doi.org/10.1177/073953291103200205

Herrmann, E. (2015). Language Register: What is it and why does it matter in education? Retrieved from https://exclusive.multibriefs.com/content/language-register-what-is-it-and-why-does-it-matter/education

Nordquist, R. (2019). What is Register in Linguistics? Retrieved from https://www.thoughtco.com/register-language-style-1692038

Eilders,C. (2016). Print Media. Retrieved from https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/epdf/10.1002/9781118541555.wbiepc193#accessDenialLayout

Wikipedia (2020). Digital Media. Retrieved from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/digital_media

Wikipedia (2020). Electronic Media. Retrieved fromhttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Electronic_media

Oaks, D. (2011). Rethinking the role of grammar in advertising and marketing curriculum. Retrieved from https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/073953291103200205?journalCode=nrja#:~:text=It%20was%20observed%20that%20grammar,retention%20and%20low%20perceived%20credibility.

Nguyen, G. (2020). Types of Outdoor Media. Retrieved from https://penji.co/types-of-outdoor-advertising/

Oxford Reference (2020). Print media. Retrieved from https://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/oi/authority.20110803100346392

Lewis, J. (2020). Semiotics in Advertising. Retrieved from https://smallbusiness.chron.com/examples-semiotics-advertising-38593.html#:~:text=Semiotics%20are%20frequently%20used%20in,symbol%20that%20signifies%20something%20else.

Encyclopaedia Britannica (2020). Semiotics. Retrieved from https://encyclopaediabritannica./semiotics

Authors:

Frenza Mae G. Arcega

Joshua D. Dagami

Mary Jane Labutap

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apparitionism · 5 years ago

Text

Mercury 11

This is basically just one scene. It was going to be more (and this scene was going to be better), but I’m being fussy about what follows it, so I figured some content, sooner, was better than more later. (Some previous content: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, and part 10.) I was additionally having a little hiccup of trouble figuring out exactly how to start this part... but “in the middle of things” is usually a good rule, particularly when the “things” in question are important, so “in medias pie” it is!

(P.S. to anon who asked about a masterpost: That’s too much housekeeping for me. But you’ll find I’m diligent with tags, plus my tumblr has search and an archive, so you shouldn’t have to scroll too much. Also, much of my stuff can indeed be found on AO3, where I move it after posting on Tumblr, usually with copy and/or content edits, depending on what seems warranted. Thanks for asking!)

Mercury 11

“But this pie,” Myka said with her mouth full.

“Has rendered you ill-mannered and inarticulate,” Helena said. “Interesting.”

“And here I thought demolishing cars was gonna be the entertainment,” Pete added.

They all had to work hard to be heard over the soundtrack provided by the derby: the roar of engines, the sharp bang and crunch of metal colliding with metal at speed, the shouts of extremely invested spectators. Myka had been paying some attention to it before she embarked on this trip to pastry-girded key-lime paradise. She hadn’t had any idea that bliss was in fact a combination of citrus and... whatever other things it was combined with, here in this very-nearly-literal slice-of-heaven pie, but Pete was right: this had been a really educational trip.

Ida said, “This is closer to what I’d call a show.”

“Here in Wisconsin?” Pete asked.

“Anywhere. Is she always like this about pie?”

“I’ve only known her five years,” Pete said, “but I think it’s safe to go with ‘never in her life has she been like this about pie.’ Or maybe anything.”

“Well,” Helena began.

“Don’t say it,” Pete advised.

Ida temporized, “She doesn’t need to. Everyone understands innuendo. And subtext.”

Myka didn’t care, not even a little—not about the kind of show she was putting on, not about how innuendo-y and subtext-y Helena was getting with regard to what Myka might find heavenly in other contexts—as long as nobody took this miracle of a pie away.

She certainly hadn’t expected this to be the outcome when she, Helena, and Pete had taken the lengthy walk—thankfully, in their normal configuration, with Myka reclaiming her “run interference” slot between Helena and Pete—to the site of the demolition derby, some distance away from the fairgrounds proper, accompanied by what had seemed like an additional fair’s worth of people. Were these things really so popular? Maybe Pete was right, maybe “the IRS” should sponsor one in Univille. For purposes of general sociability, because for all Myka didn’t like the place, she did still care what its denizens thought of her, and if—“Bet these’re cow pastures in real life,” Pete had said, interrupting her speculation. That prompted Myka to start taking careful note of where she was placing her feet during that long walk along not a path as such, but rather through grass that had been marked at irregular intervals with spray-painted arrows.

“You’re so prissy,” Pete said.

Myka shrugged that off. “Maybe. But cows. Or rabbits. Nobody with sense in their head want to walk in anything they leave behind.”

Helena said, to Pete, “Are you as unnerved by bovines as you are by lagomorphs?”

As a dig, it seemed mild, even polite, but Pete reacted as if she’d reached across Myka and slapped him. “Leave me alone! I’m not scared of anything unless it’s freakishly huge!”

They were passing the cars’ inspection area: the same spray paint had been applied to a piece of plywood, leaning against a fence enclosing those cars, to spell “INSP AREA.” It could have meant “inspiration area,” Myka supposed, but people with clipboards had seemed to be inspecting rather than inspiring, or being inspired... she tried to think of another word that began with “insp.” Nothing came to her.

“Size-wise,” she told Pete, “the bumpers on that Sable over there must be giving you nightmares already.”

Pete looked where she’d indicated. He did a cartoon double-take. “Are those even legal? I think I just found my horse.”

“I like the Pinto next to it,” Myka said.

He scoffed, “Nobody likes a Pinto.”

“The ponies enjoyed a brief vogue when I was a girl,” Helena mused, as if to herself. “Would that the car were painted like those...it’s a shame that a pinto—and, in fact, a sable—shouldn’t resemble their namesake animals in some way.”

Myka said, “I guess we can call my Pinto a Palomino, then. The color’s why I like it.”

“That’s not a good reason,” Pete said. “Not for a demo derby.”

“It’s a great reason. Look.” Myka pointed toward a corral ringed with bleachers. “There’s a lot of mud over there, where I assume they’ll do the demolishing, right?”

Pete nodded. “Mud slows ’em down. Safer, plus it’s a better show. Upset it’s gonna be such a messy show, Miss Prissy?”

“My point is, the Pinto’s yellow, so I’ll be able to keep track of it through the muck, while it does its demo-ing. Or gets demo-ed. As I watch it happen, because I’ve got a horse—almost literally—too. Do you want me interested or not?”

He glanced at the Pinto, then looked back at Myka. “Not sure,” he said, like he thought she was trying to trick him.

“You wanted us here so bad you won it,” she reminded him.

“Mostly wanted to make you suffer.”

“Then I think your win is more of a ‘win,’ because I refuse to suffer,” Myka told him. “Not about this.”

She was holding Helena’s hand. She had been, for the entire walk, “because I didn’t get to on the Ferris wheel,” she’d said when she first reached for the contact, her voiced reason in response to Helena’s questioning did-you-not-recently-express-objection-to-public-displays eyebrow, and it was true as far as it went. But what had compelled Myka to make the small display, really, was that she’d needed something, and this was simple. Uncomplicated. Something to bank against whatever was going to happen later, in the hotel room. Which she was, she had to admit to herself, doing some pre-suffering about. Because she didn’t know.

Helena declared, as if to assure Myka that she too felt both the simplicity and the need for it, “I’m not suffering either. Not about this.”

She gripped Myka’s hand tighter. It did feel good. Myka echoed the pressure, and one corner of Helena’s mouth curved up.

Pete rolled his eyes. “You two are gonna wish so hard that Myka won that duck bet.”

“It was a bet that concerned ducks?” Helena asked.

Myka grimaced. “I’ll tell you later.”

“I wonder,” Helena said, jauntily, “whether the poultry competition might include a Rouen or two.”

“I’m gonna regret this, but: okay. That’s a...?” Pete prompted.

“Giant mallard,” Helena said, with even greater cheer. Pete groaned, and Myka found herself wanting to kiss Helena: for being clever, but also as yet another instance of that bankable, uncomplicated touch. She almost said that out loud—“I want to kiss you,” simple, like that—but she understood that if she did, she’d have to deal with Pete about it. Because of ducks.

“Well, I don’t see any of your probably-made-up freak-ducks around,” Pete said. He added a taunt of, “I do see the two of you practically sittin’ in a tree, though.”

“Mature,” Myka said.

“Water off a Rouen’s back!” Helena announced.

Her insouciance made Myka again want contact, like a kiss, but more than that—but still simple. Basic. The most basic.

Pete must have seen and read that thought as it crossed Myka’s mind, crossed her face, for he said, “Jesus, Mykes, just jump her and get it over with. Get yourselves behind the bleachers and take care of business.”

Nobody had taken care of any behind-the-bleachers business, of course, but Myka had kept on holding Helena’s hand, even as they sat on the uncomfortable aluminum of those bleachers and listened to engines rev in preparation for entering the corral. Pete had taken it upon himself to explain the derby’s rules to Helena: “...and they all go in and they have to hit another car every minute, or maybe it’s every two, but anyway if your engine bonks out you get a little while to try to restart it but if you can’t you’re out, and they break that piece of wood by your window to show that you...” Myka listened with one ear, but mostly she concentrated on not finding a reason to loosen her clasp. The interlacing of their fingers had moved from “this feels good” to Helena’s barely fleshed bones pressing too solid against Myka’s, giving rise to an uncomfortable ache... but that ache was no reason to let go; rather, it was a reminder not to. Bodies, real ones, felt pain. So Myka sat on aluminum, listening to engines rev, not letting go. Banking it.

She’d been banking it, still, when Ida arrived, asking, “How did we ever live without the ability to text?” (Pete had said, as they sat down, that he would text Ida to join them, “because maybe she’s done with judgy-judge-judge and can bring us some leftovers.”) She’d looked at Myka and Helena—specifically, looked at their joined hands. “Well,” she said. “Another distraction?”

“Maybe,” Myka acknowledged. From something freakishly huge...

“How are you?” Ida asked Helena. “Did your summit go well?”

Helena smiled at the word. “As well as such a thing could. I suppose one might call the outcome détente,” she said. Myka, too, had smiled a little at “summit,” but as for “détente”... well, there was a lot to be said for that in the relations between several of her nearest and dearest. But she wasn’t sure how she felt about the idea of any relaxing of tensions between Helena and Emily Lake’s girlfriend. “It’s been a very strange two days,” Helena went on to say.

“That isn’t news to me,” Ida said, which prompted in Myka another Amen, sister. Ida added, “But I’ve got something that will make everything better.”

“Fruit spreads?” Pete asked, with great hope. He pointed at the small hamper she held. “That looks like something.”

Ida nodded. “Something. But better than fruit spreads.” From the hamper, she produced—with a “ta-da!”—the key lime pie. Pete gave a gasp that Myka judged both overdramatic and unwarranted; it was just a pie, albeit one that nearly matched her Pinto for color; if she’d thrown it at the car, no one would have noticed the spatter, not that she was in the habit of throwing pies at cars. This one hadn’t been thrown at anything, but it did look a little the worse for having traveled in close quarters: not show quality anymore. Given the crumbled edges of its crust and slightly dented surface, it might have been any pie at all. Ida then handed out plastic forks and paper plates, and if anyone near them in the stands around the fenced patch of mud recognized the picnic as larcenous, they kept it to themselves.

Pete took his fork up with his usual enthusiasm, dug in, took a bite, then closed his eyes. “This pie is freaking awesome. In an ‘I could literally die now’ way.”

“I told you, you literally can’t beat it,” Ida said.

While Myka had respected that particular “literally” when Ida said it yesterday, she wasn’t sure she believed it today in any kind of existential sense. Hence her astonishment when she found her own first bite to be... was “rapturous” outsize, as a word or an idea, to apply to the experience of eating pie? It didn’t matter what word she used, though; she wielded her fork with even more gusto than Pete, and she felt a niggling worry that this was, for her, unseemly, yet the combination of the unprecedented pie and the certainty that it was nutritious was irresistible. The mouthfeel alone was enough to knock her out—unctuous, yet with a sharp slash of lime-presence tanging on the tongue... she’d noticed Helena ignoring her own serving so as to watch Myka. “What?” Myka had asked. “It’s good for me.”

“I am prepared to offer to any and all attending deities,” Helena had said, amusement animating her face, “my prayer that your recently espoused belief does not wear off.”

“I’m prepared to livestream it so everybody on the planet can testify later that it happened,” Pete had enthused. “Also so Claud’s head explodes when she sees it.”

And so it was that the only words Myka had managed to come up with in her own defense, “But this pie,” had caused everyone to express even more opinions in the matter.

Fortunately, however, they let her keep eating. “I feel like I’m somebody else, how much I’m enjoying this,” she now said, not bothering to pause before scooping up another forkful.

“Interesting,” Helena said again, and her tone told Myka that something was waiting to be interrogated there... but she was extremely unwilling to turn her attention away from the pie.

Meanwhile, the cars destroyed each other. None of it mattered to pie-intoxicated Myka, except the Pinto, a little, because she could in fact keep track of it in the muck. It was surprisingly agile, “her” Pinto. Or Palomino. And if the derby had engaged only her eyes, that would have been fine, but exhaust and mud and the crowd’s sweaty enthusiasm hung heavy in the air, congesting her nose and clogging her lungs; she resented that it interfered with her experience of the pie. Its rich citrus viscosity was similarly condensed, on her tongue, but far more pleasurable... but wait, she thought, thickness... a dictionary-page memory... “fr. L in- + spissus slow, dense”: “Inspissate!” she exclaimed.

Pete and Ida both said “What?” and Myka looked up from her plate, ready to explain about “insp” and areas—but her neon pony caught her eye at just the right, or wrong, instant for her to witness its driver’s failure to recognize a danger for what it was: it received in that moment a dramatic T-boning from a seemingly unthreatening even-more-compact car. She yelped and upended her plate, which landed face down on the aluminum at her feet. It had held one last bit of inspissated key lime and... whatever else it was combined with, a last bit that she’d told herself she wanted to savor, but that she’d in all honesty been about to shovel into her mouth with abandon. She made a decision that was really no decision: she lifted the plate, scraped the spattered filling up with her fork, and willed herself not to think about dirt.

“Not one word,” she said, her mouth again full, to Pete and Helena. “Not one word out of either of you.”

Neither said anything. Myka chose to ignore their thunderstruck expressions, because she still had that precious morsel of pie in her mouth.

“Good choices,” Myka told them once she’d swallowed. She licked her fork. She took note of Helena’s expression as it shifted from shock to avid appreciation of her licking her fork.

TBC

Again, minimal tags, but here, an essay might mention things like strongly held beliefs, and how our strongly held beliefs shape our behavior, and why we so strongly hold the beliefs that shape our behavior, and that it is indeed interesting when a shift in belief (about anything: from sugar’s nutritional value to who we actually are) leads us to engage in behaviors that make us strangers to ourselves—regardless of whether we know of that estrangement at the time it’s occurring. When you think about it, in terms of selfhood, each of us might be said to be a cult with exactly one member. (I realize that doesn’t entirely hold up, but I’ve spent a little while thinking about it.)

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #Mercury #part 11

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mycasandstarrs · 6 years ago

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SPN 10x05: “Fan Fiction”

As a former theatre kid, this episode brings me so much joy.

“Ghost? Meet Winchester.”

There’s our girl!

“Where is the Samulet?”

“Oh! I took it off. It kept hitting me in the lips, and...”

“That amulet is the symbol of the Winchesters' brotherly love!”

!!!

“There is too much drama in the drama department.” Well...yeah.

“Why couldn't they just do ‘Godspell’ like good little skanks ? Instead it's this... awful, unbelievable horror story. Hmm! Like that stuff really happens! Huh, theater is about life, you know? Truth! Truth! Where is the truth in ‘Supernatural’?”

What the fuck kind of teacher is this??

I had a theater teacher who told us theatre was magic. I think she would’ve liked Marie’s play about Supernatural.

There she goes.

“I mean, it's close, but it's just.... It needs a little more grrrr!”

Our very special title card.

“Sundown” by Gordon Lightfoot

Our beautiful Baby.

Dean awake before Sam? A shocker.

“A teacher in an all girls school went missing in Flint, Michigan. She was heading to her car, disappeared, and nobody's seen her since.”

“Dean, there's nothing here that even remotely suggest there is a case.”

“There is nothing that even remotely suggest there isn't a case. Boom!”

Logic!

Hell yes!

Thank you, thank you, thank you Robbie Thompson.

“Ugh, theater kids. Great.”

“What? I was a theater kid.”

“Barely. You did ‘Our Town’, which was cool. But then, you did that crappy musical.”

“The - ‘Oklahoma’? Hugh Jackman got cast off of ‘Oklahoma’.”

“You ran tech, Wolverine.”

Hey, Techies are just as important as the actors.

They missed the huge banner advertising the show??

hahahaha, their faces are hilarious. Granted, if I found out someone made a musical about my life, I’d be speechless too.

“If there is case... It probably has something to do with all of this.” It has everything to do with it.

Marie, writer/director, and Maeve, the stage manager. (Fun fact: I was a stage manager once! Lots of fun, work, and telling people to shut up and pay attention.)

“I'm Special Agent Smith. This is my partner, Special Agent -”

“Smith.”

“Smith. No relation.”

Again with the joke.

There’s plenty of singing in Supernatural, mostly from you, Dean.

“If there was singing, it would be classic rock. Not this Andrew Floyd Webber crap -”

“Andrew Lloyd Webber.”

Love the improv correction.

Don’t shoot down “Carry on Wayward Son”, Sam.

I also had a theater teacher who went through a divorce.

“Maeve, right? You're the stage manager?”

“And I understudy Jody Mills.”

Maeve would make a great Jody!

“I'm gonna throw up.” Shush, Dean.

“I mean, I gotta say, it's kind of charming. The production value, and the...” I love Sam’s sincere interest tho.

Rule #1: You never touch the props.

“Why are they standing so close together?”

“Um...Reasons.”

“You know they're brothers, right?”

“Well, duh! But... Subtext.”

We gotta address that.

“You know, back when I did tech in school, we had two CD decks-”

“I'm sorry, I have to go sign the delivery.”

Aww Sam! I would love to hear his theater stories.

Pfft, Sam.

“There's no space in Supernatural.” We got close to it...

“Chuck stopped writing after ‘Swan Song’. I just- I couldn't leave it the way that it was! I mean, Dean not hunting anymore, living with Lisa?! Sam, somehow back from Hell, but not with Dean?! So, I wrote my own ending.” I don’t blame her.

“Dean becomes a woman.” Would still wanna see that happen in an episode.

“So, Sam came back from Hell. But without a soul. Then, Cas brought in a bunch of Leviathans from Purgatory. They lost Bobby. And then, Cas and Dean got stuck in Purgatory, Sam hit a dog. They met a prophet named Kevin, they lost him too. Then Sam endured a series of trials, in an attempt to close the gates of Hell. Which nearly cost him his life. Then Dean? Dean became a demon. Knight of Hell, actually.”

S6-9 summary, courtesy of Dean.

Here comes the second hand embarrassment.

“That is some of the worst fan fiction that I've ever heard ! I mean, seriously, I don't know where your friend found this garbage!” Oof, I still don’t like that.

“Siobhan and Kristen are a couple in real life. Although, we do explore the nature of Destiel in act two.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Oh, it's just subtext ! But, then again, you know, you can't spell subtext without.... s-e-x.”

!!!!!

Hi, Jensen.

“I don’t understand.”

“Me either.”

“I mean, shouldn't it be... Deastiel?”

LMAO SAM.

“You know... How about Sastiel? Samstiel?”

“Ok, alright. You know what? You're gonna do that thing, where you just shut the hell up. Forever.”

Teasing brother, Sam.

“This whole musical thing, everything, it's... It's all a coincidence? There is no case?” When is it ever just a coincidence?

“Get in the car!”

!!!!!!!

BUT HE NEVER DENIED IT THOO, that’s all i’m saying.

“You know, we should've done ‘The Outsiders’, like I told you.”

Maggie’s the second person to get kidnapped.

“I called the cops, and a bunch of adults just told me I have an overactive imagination.” :(

“It is all real. And so are we. I'm Sam Winchester. That's Dean.” NO NO NO.

“You guys are way too old to be Sam or Dean.”

“Oh, yeah!”

“More of a Bobby/Rufus combo? Maybe.”

How old do they think Sam and Dean should be???

“We are what the books called hunters.” They believe that.

First guess: a tulpa.

“How do you kill an idea?”

“Well, in ‘Hell House’, Sam and Dean burnt the house down, to take out the one tulpa they hunted.”

Correct!

“Gird your loins. It's horrifying.” Umm...okay.

I love how reluctant Marie was to burn her prop.

“What?”

“It’s not a tulpa.”

“Say it one more time, but just a little bit more Arnold--”

LMAO, Dean.

Calliope.

“According to the lore, Calliope manifests creatures from the story she's tuned into.”

The show must go on.

An understandable panic attack over the possibility of getting eaten.

“Is Marie gonna get eaten?” Shush.

I love when Dean calls people “champ”. It’s so sweet and endearing.

“If Sam and Dean were real, they wouldn't back down from a fight. Especially my sweet, brave, selfless Sam. There's nothing he can't do.” !!!

“I used this for my one-woman ‘Orphan Black’ show, last year.” Marie is the theater kid I would’ve lowkey wanted to be.

“Writer. Director. Actor. I'm gonna Barbra Streisand this bitch.” FUCK YES! KICK IT IN THE ASS!

Dean fixing Stage!Cas’ tie!!

Funny Sam asked for Chuck...

“Oh! I-I, I love him. I do! But honestly, the whole author introducing himself into the narrative thing, it's just not my favorite. I kind of hate the meta stories.” I politely disagree.

“Alright, listen up, girls. Now, you're all here, because you love ‘Supernatural’.”

“Actually, I was hoping we'd do ‘Wicked’.”

“I want you to get out there, and I want you to stand as close as she wants you to, and I want you to put as much sub and add text, as you possibly can. There is no other road. No other way. No day, but today.”

“Did he just quote ‘Rent’?”

“Not enough to get us into trouble.”

“Ghooooost-facerssss!” This episode just adds wonderful years to my lifespan.

You know what I would pay to watch this play in full???

“The Road So Far”

There it is.

The misunderstood thumbs up, lmao.

Sam goes bye bye.

Maggie and the teacher.

They were in the school’s basement.

Hello, Calliope.

“I’ll Just Wait Here Then”

Nothing makes me more emotional than seeing the audience fall in love Stage!Cas, much like we did with our real Cas.

“If I have to sit through that second act, one more time... There's robots, and tentacles, and space. I can't even.” lol

“A Single Man Tear”

That exorcism special effect is so wonderful! I can see how they do it now, but from the audience’s POV, it’s absolutely magical.

What the hell did the audience think Dean was doing??

“We're through the looking glass, here, people. Strike the wendigo set, let's prep the priests costumes. And Sarah? Get understudies into hair and makeup.” Maeve’s a A+ stage manager.

“Supernatural has everything. Life. Death. Resurrection. Redemption. But above all, family. All sorts of music you can really tap your toe to. It isn't some meandering piece of genre dreck. It's... epic!” Agreed.

Stage!Dean is a pro if she could keep singing with everything going on in the background.

lmao at the one guy putting on his poncho.

Original Stage!Sam knocks out Calliope.

Understudy!Sam kills the Scarecrow.

Sam kills Calliope. A trifecta of Sam Awesomeness.

RIP Calliope. Killed by Sam.

The audience must be wondering how they managed to do that for years.

“Take a bow, Sammy.” Take a bow too, Dean.

“Thanks for saving my friends.”

“Sure.”

“You know? If you'd cut your hair a little, you'd make a pretty good Dean.”

Aww.

“Dean? You never should've thrown this away.” YYYEEESSS

“It never really worked. And, I don't need a symbol to remind me how I feel about my brother, so...”

“Just take it. Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

I love Dean’s panic when he realizes he just called a teenage girl a “bitch” without meaning to, lmaoo.

Take it away Stage!Winchesters!

Let me tell you, I literally bursted into tears when they started singing “Carry On Wayward Son”. It’s beautifully done.

Starting with Stage!Mary, who is more or less Square 1 of the entire story.

i remember a lot of people being upset about Cas not being part of the family lineup at the end, and I get it. But if Marie was only going off of the first 5 seasons, it makes sense that she didn’t see Cas as family yet because Sam and Dean didn’t see Cas as family yet. They’re just one year shy of that.

BUT the same girl who plays Cas is on stage as Adam, a technical Winchester. You could say Cas took over Adam’s role as the third Winchester “brother” because canonically speaking, that’s the highest title Sam and Dean have given Cas.

“Who's that?”

“Oh, that's Adam. John Winchester's other kid. He's still trapped in the cage, in Hell. With Lucifer.”

lmaooo. Awkward.

“Don’t you cry no more.” I sing, while crying.

I wish he had kept the Samulet Part 2 on there.

A picture perfect ending.

...One last surprise.

“Oh my gosh! But wait... That means that- Calliope came for me or for-?” Did Marie know who he was?

I thought it was Cas...

I legit lost my goddamn mind when I saw him.

A perfect episode of Supernatural, in my most humble opinion.

#supernatural #spn summer rewatch #spn liveblog #spn 10x05 #fan fiction #our 200th episode :')

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jdgo51 · 2 years ago

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The Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur)

Today's inspiration comes from:

Unlocking the Secrets of the Feasts

by Michael Norten

Editors Note: Amazing prophecies of God’s plans for the world can be found embedded in the customs of the feasts of Israel. The intricate detail of the prophecies illustrated in the observances of these feasts provide insight into God’s plan for the ages. On the evening of October 5th, Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement begins and it continues through the evening of the 6th. For Jews, it is a day of repentance to God often observed by 25 hours of fasting, going to synagogue and praying. Yom Kippur is considered the holiest day of the year and it brings an end to the High Holy days for the year. For Advent and Passover we shared excerpts of Unlocking The Secrets Of The Feasts which were both received with overwhelming response. Enjoy this excerpt for Yom Kippur!

"'The Second of the Fall Feasts

The Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur) follows closely after Rosh Hashanah. We read in Leviticus 23:26-28:

The Lord spoke to Moses, saying, ‘On exactly the tenth day of this seventh month is the Day of Atonement; it shall be a holy convocation for you, and you shall humble your souls and present an offering by fire to the Lord. You shall not do any work on this same day, for it is a day of atonement, to make atonement on your behalf before the Lord your God.’

And Exodus 30:10 says:

And Aaron shall make atonement on its horns once a year; he shall make atonement on it with the blood of the sin offering of atonement once a year throughout your generations. It is most holy to the Lord.

The Jews consider the Day of Atonement the holiest day in all, for it is on this day that Israel would be forgiven of their sins or would face judgment. Devout Jews tell me that this day understandably brings plenty of anxiety into their hearts. Isn’t it wonderful that we believers in our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ have the peace and assurance that our sins are forgiven eternally, because of what He has done on the cross! Yom Kippur literally means “Day of Covering.” The word Kippur also means “ransom.” It is to show God’s willingness to cover the sins of the previous year. While the animal that was sacrificed had to be one year old in order to provide atonement for the previous sins for one year, Christ, being eternal, provided atonement for an eternity!

Leviticus 16:29 gives further instructions on how the Jews were to observe Yom Kippur:

On the tenth day of the seventh month you shall humble your souls and not do any work.

In explaining what must characterize the act of humbling oneself, the rabbis say one must avoid eating and drinking, bathing or washing, marital relations, putting on perfumes or lotions, and wearing leather shoes. Now “refraining from the wearing of leather shoes” threw me. I asked about it and was informed that wearing leather shoes signified luxury. They wear comfort socks instead!

According to Leviticus 16:31–33, the high priest was to put on his linen garments and was to make atonement for the Most Holy Place, the tent or temple, the altar, himself (high priest), the priests (Levites), and the people (Israelites) — all in that order. Leviticus 16:3–4 states:

Aaron shall enter the holy place with this: with a bull for a sin offering and a ram for a burnt offering. He shall put on the holy linen tunic, and the linen undergarments shall be next to his body, and he shall be girded with the linen sash, and attired with the linen turban (these are holy garments). Then he shall bathe his body in water and put them on.

This is not the colorful robe the high priest usually wore. This was a plain white linen garment. This observance was to be performed once a year according to Leviticus 16:34:

Now you shall have this as a permanent statute, to make atonement for the sons of Israel, for all their sins once every year.

The procedure had four parts as spelled out in Leviticus 16:13–14: take fire from the altar of incense, offer sacrifices and place the blood of these sacrifices in a bowl, sprinkle the blood in the Holy Place and upon the mercy seat of the Ark seven times. The ingredients of the incense are found in Exodus 30:34:

Then the Lord said to Moses, ‘Take for yourself spices, stacte and onycha and galbanum, spices with pure frankincense; there shall be an equal part of each.’

"There is now total access to God because of the redemptive work of Christ."

— Michael Norten

The Scapegoat

One of the most important aspects of the observance of the Day of Atonement was the scapegoat. We read in Leviticus 16:7–8:

He shall take the two goats and present them before the Lord at the doorway of the tent of meeting. Aaron shall cast lots for the two goats, one lot for the Lord and the other lot for the scapegoat.

Then verses 9–10 add:

Then Aaron shall offer the goat on which the lot for the Lord fell, and make it a sin offering. But the goat on which the lot for the scapegoat fell shall be presented alive before the Lord, to make atonement upon it, to send it into the wilderness as the scapegoat.

Laying both hands on the head of the goat, the high priest then confessed the sins of the people. After that he sent the goat away to the wilderness by an appointed person. This fulfills the requirement explained in Leviticus 16:22:

The goat shall bear on itself all their iniquities to a solitary land; and he shall release the goat in the wilderness.

This also ties into Isaiah 53:6, which says:

All of us like sheep have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; but the Lord has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him.

The Talmud, Tractate Shabbat Folio 86a, states: “How do we know that a crimson-colored strap is tied to the head of the goat that is sent [to ‘Azaz’el]? Because it is said, ‘If your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow (Isaiah 1:18).’ By a miracle this crimson-colored strap turned white, thus showing the people that they were forgiven of their sins.” It then explains: “Rabbi Ishmael says, ‘Now did they not have another sign? There was a crimson thread tied to the door of the sanctuary. When the goat had reached the wilderness, the thread would turn white, as it says, “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow.”’ That is fascinating, but this becomes totally amazing when another section of the Talmud (Yoma 39b) says: “Our Rabbis taught: ‘During the last forty years before the destruction of the Temple the lot [‘For the Lord’] did not come up in the right hand; nor did the crimson-colored strap become white… and the doors of the Hekal (the temple) would open by themselves.’”

After Christ was crucified, the crimson strap on the scapegoat and the crimson thread on the temple door never turned white again! Apparently, God was reminding the Jews that Jesus is the true scapegoat once and for all. Jesus fulfilled the promise of both goats. He paid the penalty for our sins and removed our sins as well! Since the lot that was drawn for the goat for sacrifice to the Lord never came up in the right hand, this, too, was a sign that God did not accept their offering again. Hebrews 9:11–12 says:

But when Christ appeared as a high priest of the good things to come, He entered through the greater and more perfect tabernacle, not made with hands, that is to say, not of this creation; and not through the blood of goats and calves, but through His own blood, He entered the holy place once for all, having obtained eternal redemption.

As already noted earlier, the Talmud says that the temple doors were found open by themselves each evening. In his writings, The Wars of the Jews (Josephus Complete Works), Josephus said, “At the same festival (Passover)… the Eastern gate of the inner court of the Temple, which was of brass, and vastly heavy, and had been with difficulty shut by twenty men, and rested upon a base armored with iron, and had bolts fastened very deep into the firm floor, which was there made of one entire stone, was seen to be opened of its own accord about the sixth hour of the night.”

This is similar to the tearing of the veil, which is a sign that there is now total access to God because of the redemptive work of Christ."'

Excerpted with permission from Unlocking the Secrets of the Feasts by Michael Norten, copyright Thomas Nelson.

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trinuviel · 7 years ago

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ALL IS SUBTEXT - A Case for Jon and Sansa (part 5)

This is the fifth installment in my analysis of the romantic subtext in the scenes between Jon and Sansa in seasons 6 and 7 of Game of Thrones (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4). I’ve examined the different techniques that the show employs to create this subtext through primarily visual means. This post is is a direct continuation of part 3 and part 4 where I began examining the romantic tropes that inform the scenes between their. Once again I’ve had to break up my analysis because there are so many tropes in play and I am trying to be meticulous in my analysis. So here is yet another very long post.

KNOW YOUR TROPES

The ambiguous romantic subtext in the scenes between Jon and Sansa exists almost entirely on the level of the visual - and that means that we have to pay close attention to non-verbal cues, costume design, image composition and editing.

I have previously mentioned that tropes are excellent tools when it comes to creating subtext because they function as a narrative shorthand. They rely on audience familiarity and genre conventions, which mean that there’s no need to spell things out - and subtext exists at the level of the unspoken.

So without further ado, let’s have a look as some more JonSa scenes where romantic tropes are in play.

Gentle readers, gird your loins - this post is hella long.

Declaration of Protection. This trope occurs when the hero’s motivation is built around protecting another person. This is usually the love interest but it can also pertain to other kinds of relationships (as well as larger entities such as a home or the realm as per Jon’s season 7 arc).

Both seasons 6 and 7 make it clear that Sansa is the hidden reason for many of Jon’s actions. She’s the one that gives him the will to live and fight again. She shakes him out of his depression and disillusionment after he’s been resurrected - and he is determined to protect her at any cost. The night before the Battle of the Bastards, Jon issues a solemn declaration of protection when Sansa states that she’ll never let Ramsay take her alive, hinting that she’ll kill herself if Jon loses the battle.

(GIFs by https://giffferrplanet.wordpress.com/2016/06/23/game-of-thrones-the-night-before-the-battle/)

Sansa’s reaction is heartbreaking. No one has be able to protect her since her father died and her scepticism in the face of Jon’s promise is understandable yet so very sad. However, the thing to notice here is Jon’s sad puppy-dog face when Sansa leaves - now it isn’t just Winterfell that hangs in the balance, Sansa’s very life rests on his shoulders as well.

Battle Couple. This trope pertains to a couple who are partners in combat:

This is the kind of couple where bullets figure prominently in the story of their romance. Where “war buddy” and “significant other” are synonyms. If you harm either one of them, the survivor will kill you as surely as the sun rises. (TVTropes)

Jon and Sansa may not fight side-by-side in the physical sense but Sansa’s presence at the parley with Ramsay (as well as her involvement with raising troops, etc) puts them into the territory of Battle Couple. Furthermore, the visuals repeatedly puts them side-by-side to emphasize them as a team.

The parley with Ramsay offers a number of shots that presents Jon and Sansa as a united front.

In short, they look “beautiful and majestic” together (as the script explicitly states).

Ruling Couple. This trope is generally used in relation to a monarchial setting:

A ruling couple, on the other hand, are equal or near equal partners, and may even be Happily Married. Rather then one ruling and one staying in the palace they jointly rule. The rulers will rely on each other as trusted counselors and they will be The Good King and The High Queen in one. Perhaps they will show this by receiving audiences on two thrones. Perhaps the consort will have a regular seat in the royal council and a vote. Perhaps even the two of them will discuss deep and labyrinthine affairs of state during matrimonial activities.

On many occasions, they will also be a Battle Couple. (TVTropes)

Jon and Sansa may not be a Ruling Couple in the traditional sense (not yet anyway). However, the visuals repeatedly show them sitting side-by-side, looking regal, when they interact with their bannermen.

The shot below is an especially strong visual because it offers a simple yet effective image composition. Jon and Sansa are placed firmly in the centre of the shot, framed by the large hearth that forms a pale background against which and they stand out visually. They are further framed by the black silhouette of the bannermen. This, along with the slow zoom in, serve to highlight them visually in a way that ruling couples often are presented. Once again, Jon and Sansa look beautiful and majestic together.

This shot is not only visually striking but it may very well be narratively significant as a piece of subtle foreshadowing. The kingmaking scene follows the most narratively important reveal in the entire show: the revelation of Jon’s true parentage as the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. Immediately after this revelation, Jon is chosen as King in the North based on his status as Ned Stark’s bastard son and he’s thus elected under false pretenses even though he is unaware of his true parentage.

Placing the parentage reveal before the kingmaking is an interesting (and very deliberate) editing choice because it introduces the possibility that Jon’s parentage may become a problem for his kingship in the future. Jon’s true parentage relates to several popular tropes: Really Royalty Reveal, Hidden Back-up Prince, Secret Legacy - or as I like to call it: the Hidden Prince. When a narrative employs this trope, the truth will ALWAYS come out and it is always be of extreme narrative importance. While Jon relinquished his kingship in season 7, his status as a leader in the North may very well be further imperilled when the truth comes out. There’s been written several metas on how a marriage between Jon and Sansa would effectively unite the competing claims to North and unite House Stark firmly under Jon’s leadership, so I won’t go further into this argument here.

Rather, I’d just point out that by placing the parentage reveal right before a scene that invokes a visual iconography of a ruling couple in such a strong image composition, the show simultaneously teases the likelihood of a future conflict as well as its possible solution - in one single image!

When Jon is declared King in the North, despite Sansa having the heriditary claim to Winterfell, he turns to Sansa to gauge her reaction. he wants her to approval before he accepts the kingship - and she smilingly approves without uttering a single word. Yet another instance of them being in accord.

It is a move that is similar to this interaction between King Leonidas of Sparta and his queen Gorgo in 300 (2007) - spouses in accord, there’s no need for words.

Whilst Sansa isn’t Jon’s formal co-ruler, the show continues to seat her next to Jon when he exerts his authority as king. This is especially important since Winterfell’s Great Hall lacks the visual stage-setting of power that characterizes the Red Keep and Dragonstone. Jon’s “throne” is just a regular chair and he is placed on the same level as his subjects - yet he maintains a certain distance by standing behind a separate table at the end of the room, right in front of the visual centre provided by the hearth. The table acts as a physical and visual barrier between him and his bannermen so even though he’s not physically elevated above his vassals, he does inhabit a space that is sectioned off from them (though he quickly moves beyond it). Sansa inhabits this same space, right by his side!

However, Davos also sits next to Jon, at the same side of the table. Here it is important to pay attention to the image composition! As you can see, Davos is seated a bit farther from Jon than Sansa - and this slight separation is visually emphasized by the hearth where the light reflected on the lower mantel creates a visual barrier between Jon and Davos. No such barrier exist between Jon and Sansa - and the slightly skewed perspective also makes them look closer to each other. In short, though three persons are seated side by side, Jon and Sansa are grouped together in a visually distinct manner that evokes the iconography of a Ruling Couple.

Even their costumes support this trope! @jonsalways has penned an amazing costume meta that about Jon and Sansa’s costumes in seasons 6 and 7. She notes that the colours and the overall silhouettes of their costumes match each other, which not only makes them look good together but also serve to underscore them as a team. I’m going to quote her here because she cuts to the heart of the matter in such a succinct manner:

When you look at the items they wear (it) is also wonderful. They both have a cloak, a cape, a dress/shirt, a “metal necklace”, a collar over the necklace and a belt. Every single detail in Jon’s costume has a equivalent on Sansa’s. It’s almost as they wear the female and male version of the same outfit.

When they are side by side, they look beautiful because their costumes match in pieces and their silhouette look just right. It’s comfortable to look at them because they look so similar. It’s almost like you don’t see two characters wearing two different concepts. You see them together as one whole concept. If they could switch their cloaks/capes, the colors would work just fine. And they are the only Starks whose costumes do that. Michele Clapton does it for a reason.

The elements mentioned in the quotes work on the level of the visual sub-conscious, i.e. we simply notice that they look aesthetically pleasing together but it is seldom something that the general audience give much thought to.

However, there are obvious symbolic elements to their costumes that we are most definitely are meant to notice; elements that also work as statements about their characters and their narrative journeys. In the case of Jon and Sansa, the symbolic element is the Stark direwolf, the heraldic sigil of their House - and this element tells the story of two characters travelling towards the same destination in season 6 and on parallel lines in season 7.

In season 6, we see Sansa visually reclaim her identity as a Stark through an act of (literal) self-fashioning: she makes a beautiful dress where the bodice acts as the canvas for the presentation of the Stark direwolf, made with materials that probably are supposed to evoke the natural landscape of the North - such a irregularly cut squares of mother-of-pearl (that made me remember the wonderful mussel shell necklace that Karsi wore in season 5).

Sansa’s homemade dress is a profound act of self-reclamation. She emblazons her chest with the ancestral symbol of her family - almost as an answer to the way the Lannisters put their heraldic stamp on her neck in season 3:

Throughout the season she’s repeatedly insulted as being no Stark - Lord Glover tells her House Stark is dead and Lady Mormont snidely calls her both a Lannister and a Bolton. Sansa answers that she will always be a Stark - and it is written on her body for all to see.

Jon is also wearing a single direwolf on his costume to match Sansa. However, his symbol is much more discrete in form and placement - probably both for reasons practical and symbolic. Sansa is the trueborn Stark after all. Jon’s cloak is a gift from Sansa, she made it herself - and the show actually takes the time to show us this:

We don’t see Sansa make the dress that is so important to her identity - but we get to witness her make a garment for Jon that is invested with a profound emotional, symbolic and political value. When Sansa gifts Jon with a cloak stamped with the Stark direwolf she wordlessly acknowledges and claims him as a Stark for all the world to see - the very thing that always has been Jon’s greatest wish! It is really very beautiful - she’s the one that makes a matching pair out of them (since she probably also made her own Stark fur).

Politically, Jon’s new cloak is also significant - not just because of the Stark sigil but also because it is just like the one Eddard Stark wore! The patriarch whom the North once were sworn to, for whom they went to war! It is a politically savy move because Sansa Stark understands that clothing isn’t just about covering your body, it is also a language.

(the two edits below are by @baelerion)

Season 7 builds on this symbolic aspect of Jon and Sansa’s costumes. Now they both wear a pair of direwolves facing each other. Notice how they wear the Stark sigil on the same part of their bodies in both seasons - on the chest and then at the neck! Once again they match.

The double direwolves are interesting because, unlike season 6, their stories have moved beyond becoming Starks (again). Now their narrative journey is about their partnership and that is signalled by the double direwolves. They have to learn to act in tandem. While they have their differences and instances of miscommunication, season 7 is about them acting as a ruling team, as King in the North and Lady of Winterfell - two titles that originally belonged to just one person. Once again they are being posited as two halves of a whole - the ruling pair of the North, which is formalized when Jon names Sansa his regent before he travels south.

Interestingly enough, Jon and Sansa’s double direwolves have their echoes in two earlier costumes. When Bran acted as Robb’s regent in season 2, he wore a gorget just like Jon’s - and when Robb attended the Red Wedding as KitN he wore a pair of direwolf clasps just like Sansa’s! Now the costumes are reversed, the gorget for the KitN and the clasps for his regent. An interesting detail that very likely is significant, considering Michele Clapton’s symbolic and narrative approach to the costumes of GoT.

Even down to the smallest detail, the costume design presents Jon and Sansa to the audience looking like a ruling couple; a couple that are on parallel narrative journeys. It is also worth noting that it is only Jon and Sansa who wear the Stark sigil in season 7! Neither Arya nor Bran appear to wear the Stark direwolf even after they’ve returned home to Winterfell. Perhaps that is because it is Jon and Sansa who are the leaders of House Stark and the North.

I’m going to return to the issue of image composition in relation to the Ruling Couple trope. When season 6 aired, HBO released this wonderful and very memorable photo. (I’ve reversed it for visual variety)

This beautiful image doesn’t actually match what we see on out TV screens! This is a still photograph, taken by a separate photographer (a unit still photographer). Not only do we not see this exact pose in the episode in question but it is also clear that this image has been through a graphics editor since the bluish tint from the episode has been removed in favour of a stronger visual contrast with the background so Jon and Sansa’s figures capture the eye immediately.

Still photographs like this are created specifically for publicity and marketing. This image became very popular with the media outlets that cover the show - not surprisingly since it is one of the most visually arresting images among the promotional material released to the press. This image became a very popular header picture in several reviews, think pieces and post-season articles, such as this one in TIME where a possible Jonsa marriage is discussed.

I hesitate to name this photo “iconic” because I think it is too early to use that designation. It is, however, an extremely striking image with the clear-cut profiles, the matching costumes and the sharp silhouettes against the light background - there’s no visual “clutter” to distract the eye from the regal couple. Jon and Sansa really stand out against the background and everything from the direction of their gazes to their matching colours and silhouettes tie them together visually as a couple. They look like a king and queen in this image and since it was a popular choice with the media outlets, it is an image that has repeatedly been presented to the people who follow the coverage of the show online. That kind of image repetition can also work to plant the idea of Jon and Sansa as a couple on the subconscious level.

This image is pretty much the incarnation of the line from the script about Jon and Sansa looking “beautiful and majestic”. They look like a King and Queen, there’s no need for crowns here.

No other couple has looked as regal as these two in the entire show!

In contrast, one of the most popular stills of Jon and Dany from season 7 is markedly different. @jonsalways has noted how Jon and Dany’s costumes never truly match, neither in colour nor in silhouette. That also is very apparent in this image. What is even more interesting is the fact that this composition doesn’t convey harmony and togetherness like the regal image above, which makes sense since Jon and Dany isn’t one the same page in this season. Not only do they have conflicting interests and goals, the one is also intent on subjugating the other. In short, they don’t look like a romantic couple.

In terms of body language Jon and Dany are completely out of sync and there’s a distinct lack of communication between them. Whilst Dany is gazing at Jon, her body turned towards him, Jon’s attention is elsewhere. He faces away from her and doesn’t even seem to acknowledge her presence. When compared with the JonSa image above, the background almost feels visually “cluttered”, which also means that it is much less attention-grabbing than the first image. When it comes to drawing visual attention to something, less is generally more.

As said, the regal image of Jon and Sansa doesn’t appear in the show itself. The closest the show matches the promotional image is this double profile shot:

This shot is of particular interest in relation to the Ruling Couple trope because the image composition adhere to a common iconographic schema for portraits of royal couples.

Fx in this coin minted for the 70th wedding anniversary of Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip.

Or this design for a stamp featuring Crown Prince Frederik and Crown Princess Mary of Denmark. These are but a few example from a vast number of offical royal portraits.

Throughout seasons 6 and 7, the show presents the audience with a large number of visuals that depict Jon and Sansa in a manner that is associated with ruling couples.

Interestingly enough, the Stark-centric cover of Entertainment Weekly in 2017 positively screams Northern Royal Family! This is of course a group portrait of a group of siblings (even though Jon is actually their cousin). However, not only is Sansa placed next to Jon (instead of fx between Bran and Arya), the combination of a standing male and a seated female evokes a time-honoured compositional template for official royal portraits. I’ve included a couple of examples for comparison.

Crown Princess Victoria and Prince Daniel of Sweden.

King Frederik IX and Queen Ingrid of Denmark.

Then there’s this lovely portrait of Crown Prince Frederik and Crown Princess Mary of Denmark.

This is a slightly different variation on the pose but it is also a popular one in royal portraiture. Notice how we also have a very similar image of Jon and Sansa in the last episode of season 6?

It is unclear whether the cinematographer consciously chose to model these shots of Jon and Sansa on popular visual conventions for royal portraiture. It is entirely possible that these similarities are coincidental to a certain degree. By that I mean that when we see a lot of pictures, certain types of composition becomes so familiar to us that we don’t register them consciously. However, I do think that the similarities between the image composition in the shots where Jon and Sansa are placed side-by-side are the result of some conscious choices, especially since directors and cinematographers often turn to art for inspiration (like Dan Sackheim took inspiration from Caravaggio’s art for Jon’s resurrection scene).

To be continued...

(GIFs and edits not mine)

#jon x sansa #jonsa #meta #all is subtext #romantic tropes #costume design #actuallyjonsa

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