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nerds-yearbook · 8 hours

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In 1935, while in Tibet, the time traveling alien known as the Doctor (Doctor 2) had his first encounter with the robot Yetis and the Great Intelligence. ("The Abominable Snowmen", Doctor Who vlm 1, TV)

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ladycapuleti · 1 year

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- FANCAST DEATH EATER WIVES in HARRY POTTER -

1. Yvonne Strahovski is Nina Rosier

2. Elizabeth Mitchell is Corinne Travers

3. Gillian Anderson is Narcissa Malfoy

4. Amy Landecker is Penelope Rookwood

5. Kelly Rowan is Laura Selwyn

6. Sandra Borgmann is Barbra Rowle

7. Charlize Theron is Claire Dolohov

8. Anna Gunn is Lorraine Goyle

9. Naomi Watts is Monica Nott

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etherealcharacterz · 10 months

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Lycorys Travers

Lycorys Dereck Travers

♛ Né le 1er avril 2033

♛ Next-Gen

♛ Britannique

♛ Fils de Nick et Penny Travers, née Dawn

⇝ Asexuel, demiromantique

⇝ Poufsouffle

⇝ Né-moldu

⇝ Comédien

⇝ Tim Borrman

☮ Meilleur ami d'Ella Friston et Cleo Abraxas

☮ Ami de Logan Dawn, Nemesis Tremblay, Rhéane Petrova-Woodley, Aislinn Ruewen (dites-moi si vous voulez que je cale en bff !)

☮ Parrain de Callie Abraxas

#présentation #male #travers #dawn #next-gen #poufsouffle #poudlard #rls #né moldu

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asktheheirofslytherin · 2 years

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Did COVID do you in, my Lord? Do we need to perform a gross spell to revive you? Just say the word and it will be done.

No, no, I am very much alive.

Apparently, however, my death eaters cannot seem to survive even ten days without my guidance. There are a number of... mishaps... I am in the midst of clearing up.

I shall return shortly. In the meantime, know that Lucius' hair will grow back, Travers' hand will not, and Avery is permanently banned from the threstral stables.

#voldemort #travers #Lucius #avery #thestral #death eater drama #death eaters #lmao #sorry ive been mia lately #i caught a cold immediately upon full recovery from COVID #and no im not going to crazy maskless parties im getting these illnesses from family #sigh #my immune system is low rn for reasons #maybe ill live in a bubble

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saved-for-me-own-stories · 2 years

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OC-Tober! Days 6-9: Application, Recognition, Kids, Elevator

So I may be pretty bad at keeping up with things. But I do have more of the snippets! And they're a little more diverse (meaning they're from multiple different projects) this time.

Also, with my main project (which by the way is called "The Prometheus Curse"), in order to get a draft finished by Christmas, I've given myself permission to write the stupid version and not bother about editing or making it good. Just so I can get it all down on the page in time. So watch out for poor writing there.

Now, on to the snippets!

Day 6: Application (Day 30: The Good End)

[For context, I was working on one of the last few days of another challenge, which I mostly finished. It's called "AU-gust", and I posted that on one of my other blogs. Yes I'm painfully slow]

Now, with these AUs, timelines can be pretty subjective. Some might say that an event happened, some might say it never did. Some might put the happenings in some vague whenever, some might place it in and around specific points in the story, it might not even matter to others! Some might bring in characters from all over, like I seem to have been doing, and some might just stick with characters who would logically be here at this time. It can be anything.

So with Baron, it could really be a lot of things.

It could be in this vague, indeterminate time, where everybody is there and are happy together, and the plot of the book doesn’t have any application to what’s going on.

Or, it could simply be the timeline of the book, and the characters who would be there are the ones who are there, but things are changed.

Day 7: Recognition (The Prometheus Curse)

It was then that the door opened, and a head popped out once more. “Melisande, d’you think—” The face on the head was flooded suddenly with joyful recognition. “Baron! There you are! And you’ve brought the rest of our guests—that’s perfect! I’ve a surprise for them.” He began to retreat back through the door, then looked back out. “Oh! Hullo, Travers, good man!” And in he popped yet again.

Day 8: Kids (Players)

[This is a more vague project in my mind, and "Players" is more of a working title. But it caught my attention. There may be more from this one later on.]

The little girl burst out giggling, and her parents laughed aloud.

The woman, still catching her breath back, offered Lenny a hand up. This he took. As she was helping him get steady on his feet, her husband and child chattering together, she whispered, “Thank you, Lenny. I think it’s very sweet what you do with these kids to brighten up their day.”

He may have swelled a little at the words, but he only smiled and bowed his head.

Day 9: Elevator (The Prometheus Curse)

(The third speaker is Ruth, by the way. Very sweet little eight-year-old. And Travers is a ghost.)

Travers nodded, but his head was tilted, trying to catch her eye. It was no surprise to Melisande that she soon heard a soft whisper in her mind—is everything all right?

Her mouth shifted ruefully. “Is it ever?” came her whisper in return. As his expression deepened to concern, she added, “Yes, things are fine. I’m only worried about—”

“Ooooh, does the little food elevator come up to this room?”

She almost smiled. That was the same way the last child who came here described the dumbwaiter, in the very same words. “The little ones,” she finished.

That's all I got so far. I will get to Pie, because Pie is good, I need to make Pie. Hopefully more soon!

@carsgeek24

#oc tober #the prometheus curse #chapter work #my writing #snippets #baron #naphtali #travers #melisande #ruth #salt and light

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wordsmusicandstories · 2 years

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P.L. Travers & Mary Poppins

Pamela Lyndon Travers, creator of the “Mary Poppins” series, was born Helen Lyndon Goff on 9 August 1899 in Australia. When she emigrated to England in 1924, she began to regularly use the name P.L. Travers, already employed in her days as a dancer and Shakespearean actor on the Australian stage. It is said that her wealthy relatives did not approve of her performances, so, being…

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#actress #book #legends #Mary Poppins #myth #novels #poetry #prison #pseudonym #reader #Travers #writer

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digitaltariq · 2 months

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Tim Travers and the Time Traveler's Paradox Overview: Sci-Fi at Its Greatest

Abstract - Area of interest movie tackles grandfather paradox with humor and heartwarming kick, expertly carried out by veteran sci-fi comedy forged. - Low-budget sci-fi with elaborate rationalization avoids plot holes, provides aptitude and witty humor in an entertaining and distinctive fashion. - Distinctive tackle self-destruction delves into human situation, exploring private development and love inside a mad scientist's time-travel quest. Time journey is a premise in movie that's infamous for complicated paradoxes and plot holes. It is a difficulty so frequent that many sci-fi followers merely settle for it as inevitable, and most time-travel movies do not even attempt to handle it. Tim Travers and the Time Traveler's Paradox is an exception to this. Written and directed by Stimson Snead, this low-budget sci-fi movie was a direct results of Snead's frustration with time journey motion pictures and the way they side-step the plot holes they create all too typically. Science geeks and sci-fi style followers will particularly love this area of interest movie, which excels at what it got down to do. The particular paradox that Tim Travers and the Time Traveler's Paradox (attempt saying that 5 occasions quick) addresses is the "Grandfather Paradox," which asks: what if a time traveler went again in time and killed their grandfather? They might now not exist, which suggests they'd not have the ability to return and kill their grandfather — thus, a paradox. Tim Travers is a reclusive mad scientist who, after all, makes a time machine. He goes again in time one minute and instantly kills his previous self, kickstarting his personal model of this paradox which Tim turns into decided to know.

Small Finances, Massive Concepts

Tim Travers and the Time Traveler's Paradox 4.5/5 DirectorStimson Snead Runtime110 Minutes WritersStimson Snead Execs Hilarious and considerate strategy to lifelike time journey A surprisingly heartwarming kick Nice performances from an skilled sci-fi comedy forged Cons Often will get slowed down in scientific logistics Produced by North By Northwest, Tim Travers and the Time Traveler's Paradox is low-budget sci-fi in all its glory. It is surprisingly humorous, decidedly irreverent, and even a bit gory. The movie is predicated on a brief made by Snead as a ardour challenge, whereas he was ready on one other film which fell by. Left with cash, time, and an award-winning quick in his fingers, Snead determined to show his script right into a feature-length film. Solely 90 days later, taking pictures was wrapped. The overarching theme is finest described by Snead in an interview with Washington Filmworks: "This complete movie is a comedy about self-destruction through which a man is looking for an evidence for one thing which has no rationalization." The film depends closely on Samuel Dunning, who performs Tim Travers — all 21 (or extra) variations of him. Dunning portrays each with ardour and nuance that exhibits off his unimaginable appearing abilities. In some ways, that is an elaborate and well-executed one-man present paying homage to Multiplicity, however with a time machine as a substitute of cloning. With that stated, the movie additionally boasts a powerful supporting forged of veterans in each sci-fi and comedy: Felicia Day, Joel McHale, Keith David, and Danny Trejo.

A Sci-Fi Movie That Addresses the Continuity Time Journey Paradox

Whereas there are some time-travel movies that truly make sense, even the most effective of them (Primer, Timecrimes) stumble over some plot holes. Tim Travers and the Time Traveler's Paradox does its finest to keep away from plot holes with an elaborate rationalization involving continuity that's maintained by the observer, and due to this fact stays unbroken. Whereas there is perhaps one or two small questions left by the top, the movie principally pulls off its inner logic (so far as a non-physicist can inform). Most significantly, it does so with aptitude and witty humor. Straight away, the opening credit and music set the scene for a extremely distinctive and stylized sci-fi movie. As is just correct with sci-fi, the primary scene exhibits us the time machine as Tim powers it up for the primary time. The movie then cuts between Tim's work on the machine and an interview he did with James Bunratty (Joel McHale), a conspiracy-minded radio host who's a parody of Alex Jones. He additionally meets Delilah, Bunratty's radio producer who's snarky, cynical, and performed by Felicia Day in what will be the funniest and finest function of her profession to date.

Associated 5 Time Journey TV Reveals That Had been Straightforward to Comply with (& 5 That Had been Very Complicated) These 10 collection could vary in high quality, however use time journey for attention-grabbing and efficient plots. Very like a mad scientist himself, director Stimson Snead was pushed by his want to see a time-travel film that took its paradoxes to their most excessive — and hilarious — conclusion. Together with writing and producing the movie, Snead co-stars because the pissed off murderer Helter, who questions his sanity after killing similar copies of Tim Travers a number of occasions.

North by Northwest Productions Travers is hunted by this murderer as a result of, in a humorous ode to Again to the Future, he stole plutonium from terrorists to energy his machine. That is only a minor inconvenience to Travers, who cares solely about understanding the paradox he created. He realizes that the velocity of causality, which strikes on the velocity of sunshine, can not catch as much as him the place he at present is — one minute forward of it (from his perspective). Subsequently, he should one way or the other modify his time machine to create a door that can present him what the paradox seems like. A few of this will get a bit slowed down in jargon, (science nerds might be elated by Tim's theories and brainstorming), and most of it could go over the heads of audiences, however the try alone is spectacular. Snead clearly cared concerning the "how" of time journey and got down to make a sci-fi film that's (most likely) scientifically correct and at last satisfies questions on time journey which are normally glossed over. A Hilarious and Bizarre Tackle What It Means to Love Your self Snead introduces the story as a movie that particularly doesn't use time journey as a approach to discover the human situation... however he could also be making an attempt to fly underneath the radar right here. In any case, as attention-grabbing as a sensible time-travel story could also be, it would not be fairly as memorable if Tim Travers wasn't additionally compelling, with a satisfying character arc that develops together with the plot. Tim Travers is anti-social, to say the least. He thinks he would not want individuals, and his self-proclaimed mission assertion in life is "to face alone with God on the finish of time, and inform the bastard off." Some a part of Tim is clearly at battle together with his mad-scientist aspect although, as a result of he will get the time machine working... after which goes on a date with Delilah.

Associated The Greatest Time Journey Motion pictures of the 2000s, Ranked A few of these motion pictures are among the many best of the 2000s, and so they're all important tasks that revolve round time journey. As Tim gathers 20 different variations of himself to try to modify the time machine and witness the paradox, they every start to alter and develop aside. Because the film says, "A couple of hours can change an individual." The model of Tim that follows up with Delilah later turns into extra emotional and hopeful, at the same time as his most aggressive model turns into extra unhinged and chilly. Amid the side-splitting humor and in-depth science, the humanism of the plot sneaks up on viewers. Even at first, the thought of "loving oneself" is extra literal — and peculiar and hilarious — than significant. However that does not cease the film's hidden message from shining by: not solely is it potential to study to like your self, additionally it is potential to like and forgive the deepest, darkest variations of you. Just like how The whole lot, In all places, All At As soon as approached nihilism within the face of the multiverse and emerged as a narrative about household, love, and the that means of life, Tim Travers and the Time Traveler's Paradox evolves right into a story about loneliness, loving oneself, and hope — regardless of Stimson Snead's insistence that it's simply concerning the time journey. Audiences on the Cinequest Movie Pageant will have the ability to see Tim Travers and the Time Traveler's Paradox on Saturday, March 9 at 7:00 p.m. on the Hammer Theatre Heart in San Jose, and Wednesday, March 13 at 2:20 p.m. on the similar theater. Yow will discover tickets and more information here. Read the full article

#Paradox #Review #SciFi #Tim #time #Travelers #Travers

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information-2-0 · 8 months

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#passer #à #travers

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pratikaraba · 8 months

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Travers Eğri Olursa Ne Olur?

Eğer bir travers eğri ise, aşağıdaki olumsuz etkileri gözlemlenebilir:

Sürüş Performansı: Travers eğriliği, aracın sürüş performansını etkileyebilir. Eğri traversler, aracın stabilitesini bozabilir, direksiyon tepkisini etkileyebilir ve yol tutuşunu azaltabilir. Bu durum, aracın kontrolünü zorlaştırabilir ve sürüş güvenliğini tehlikeye atabilir.

Tekerlek Aşınması: Eğri traversler, tekerleklerin düzgün bir şekilde temas etmesini engelleyebilir. Bu durumda, tekerleklerin bir kısmı daha fazla sürtünmeye maruz kalabilir ve hızlı bir şekilde aşınabilir. Ayrıca, tekerleklerin dengesiz bir şekilde aşınması, araç üzerinde titreşimlere ve düzensiz bir sürüşe neden olabilir.

Süspansiyon Sistemi: Travers eğriği, aracın süspansiyon sistemini olumsuz etkileyebilir. Süspansiyon sistemi, aracın yüksekliğini ve sürüş konforunu sağlamak için tasarlanmıştır. Eğri traversler, süspansiyon bileşenlerine aşırı yük binmesine ve hasar oluşmasına neden olabilir.

Yakıt Tüketimi: Eğri traversler, aracın düzgün hareketini engeller ve sürtünme artırır. Bu durum, aracın daha fazla güç harcamasına ve yakıt tüketiminin artmasına yol açabilir.

Lastik Patlaması: Eğri traversler, tekerleklerin düzensiz bir şekilde yere temas etmesine neden olabilir. Bu durumda, lastiklerde aşırı stres oluşabilir ve potansiyel olarak lastik patlamalarına yol açabilir.

Detaylı bilgi için tıkayın https://pratikaraba.com/travers-egri-olursa-ne-olur.html

#pratikaraba #birliksanayisitesi #beylikdüzüsanayi #ototamir #arabatamiri #araçbakım #periyodikbakım #beylikdüzüototamir #beylikdüzüperiyodikbakım #lastik #yakıttüketimi #yakıtfiltresi #süspansiyonnedir #süspansiyonsistemi #travers

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malibuzz · 8 months

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L’État du Mali mobilise 100 milliards de Francs CFA à travers l'emprunt obligataire par appel public à l'épargne (État du Mali 6,50% 2023 / 2030

Le ministre de l’Économie et des Finances a l’honneur d’informer le public de la clôture de l’emprunt obligataire par appel public à l’épargne « Etat du Mali 6,50 % 2 0 2 3 – 2 0 3 0 ». L’opération a été réalisée par la SGI Mali, arrangeur et chef de file du syndicat de placement, avec comme co-chef de file : la SGI Togo. Cet emprunt obligataire, lancé le 03 juillet 2023 sur le marché financier…

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#100 milliards #2023 / 2030 #50%#6 #appel public #épargne #État du Mali #EMPRUNT #Etat #francs Cfa #Mali #mobilise #OBLIGATAIRE #travers

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wimaccrane · 9 months

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130 Ton Double Girder Overhead Crane

introduction introductionSection 1: The Core Elements – Double Girder Overhead CraneSection 2: Crafting the Control CanbinSection 3: The Uses of Extreme Heavy Duty Cranes 150 Ton and AboveSection 4: The Edge of Control Cabin Over Remote ControlSection 5: The Imperative of Travers in Heavy-duty CranesSection 6: Determining the Price of your Crane Projectconclusion In an industry where colossal…

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#130/5 ton crane #AC in crane #control cabin #control canbin #crane application #crane industry #crane installation #crane manufacturing #crane pricing #crane project #crane safety #double girder overhead crane #heavy-duty cranes #travers #wimac crane

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hope-and-roll · 9 months

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Harmony Shacklebolt

"Good people are like candles : they burn themselves to give others light." _ Unknown

- Harmony Rose Shacklebolt, épouse Dunckin - Née le 24 août 2007 - Originals - Anglaise - Sang-Pur - Poudlard, Poufsouffle - Hétérosexuelle - Psychomage - Jenna Coleman. ~ Fille de Kingsley Shacklebolt et Rose Travers ~ Petite soeur de Melody Shacklebolt ~ Mère de Gabriel et Pearl Dunckin ~ Belle-mère de Coraline Abraxas ~ Grand-mère de Juno Dunckin * Meilleure amie d'Ashley Morgan * Petite-amie de Jamie Dunckin Trivia : - joue du piano - Baguette : bois de pommier, crin de licorne - Patronus : cygne - Epouvantard : tous les gens qu'elle connaît, la regardant avec mépris et haine Playlist : Harmony : Human - Rag'n'bone Man Believer - Imagine Dragons High hopes - Kodaline The fixer - Brent Morgan Ashley & Harmony : Talk to me - Cavetown Melody & Harmony : Hello - Adele Treble heart - Anna Graceman Dynasty - MIIA

Jamony (Jamie x Harmony) : Run - Jasmine Thompson Symphony - Zara Larsson Jamie à Harmony : It was always you - Maroon 5

#Shacklebolt #Travers #Poudlard #Poufsouffle #2006-2007 #Originals

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tpc-tangled-au · 10 months

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Chapter Seven: Frey

For that brief time, everything was perfect. But then that time was ended.

The warning of the heralds held true—evil did come upon the kingdom of Othrys in the dark of night. An evil that, as I understand, had tried to take root many times since the prince’s birth.

Yes, but they had set guard against it, hadn’t they? Many a fine man kept watch, and kept ‘em out! Hence the golden childhood you told of, dear Sharp Eyes.

They did set guard. That’s how I know now that evil ever tried to enter in before. But they could not hold forever.

Yes, and in the end, it was children’s eyes that saw the dark deeds of that night.

Your eyes.

…Yes. Yes, my eyes.

Frey crept through the dim halls, as careful and quiet as if he were trying to sneak up and catch a bird. Or steal one. Stealing was for him the more likely simile.

Din HAS to be here somewhere. Probably in some deep, dark dungeon, like in the Blackguard’s fortress. He resisted the urge to groan aloud. Heck. Why didn’t he run faster? He’s a teenager, for goodness sakes! Years older than me! He should know better.

The tramp of armed men echoed nearby. Frey caught his breath and pressed against the wall, listening. The footsteps came near. They passed. Then they faded. He let out a sigh, but only softly.

Heck. See now? See what I’m going through just to get him out? He should be grateful. This more than makes up for my running off while he got collared for what happened.

His conscience nudged him, but he shook his head and crept on. Besides, fessing up would do no good. That would just land us both in prison. And telling my fine guardian about it wouldn’t help much either—why, he’d make us give it all back! Or else burn it for witchery.

Frey peeked round the corner, swiveling his head. Then, spying no one, and hearing no one, he crept down the next hall. Not a soul had seen him. And he’d make sure none would.

He smiled smugly at his capabilities. Well now, I’m pretty skilled at skulking along, I’d say. I’m stealthy enough. I should be in and out of this place with Din in no time. He nodded. This is definitely the best plan.

There was a gigantic crash that shattered his confidence into the sharp shards of a gasp. In his startlement, Frey stumbled back a couple steps. And a couple too many—he rammed right into the wall. The collision knocked the wind from him and he slipped down, hitting his side on the floor.

As the clattering, collapsing clamour rolled to a silence, Frey gasped as quietly as he could manage, trying to recover his breath. And his dignity. Well, he thought, elbowing himself up, maybe my reaction was a LITTLE extreme, but it wasn’t so ridiculous as all that. After all, at least I didn’t scream like a child.

Once he’d salvaged his pride, Frey turned his ears toward the sound. There was still sound. The odd clatter or two, hushed voices (not like guards), and… sniffling. Not a dog, trying to find a foxhole, nor anything ghostly—he and his partner had seen plenty of those (Din moreso, of course). He could recognize the difference between a living voice and a dead one. No, this sound was the sound of a child, hurt and trying very hard to be brave.

Frey’s heart twinged. He knew that sound. As much as he’d have denied it aloud, he knew exactly how it felt to try and be brave.

A last clank, and then light footsteps, heading away. He glanced around: no one was near. No one seemed to be coming. But with as loud a noise as the one he’d heard a moment ago, he was sure they soon would be. And Frey needed to move before they did.

His eyes scanned the shadowy hall behind him, watching it fade into gloom and refusing to feel small. Might should’ve found out where the dungeons are before I snuck into the king’s castle. Skulking don’t help much unless you know where you’re skulking to.

Ideas came into his head—crying out that there was trouble in the dungeons and following the guards, or finding a ghost and spinning some story to get it to take him. There’d probably be some way to trap it there. If it was anything like the Blackguard’s dungeon, the cells would be able to hold a ghost.

But then his eyes turned back toward the direction of the noise, of the sniffling of a child trying to be brave. He bit his lip, uncertain.

Heck.

Scrambling up with as much stealth as he could, Frey followed the footsteps. He could think of something to tell Din about the delay.

A couple corners away, he found the source of the noise, or at least of the racket: a suit of armour, in pieces and scattered across the stone. The sniffler must have knocked it over. He stared at the mess of metal for a moment.

It wasn’t the only one of its kind—seven suits lined the hallway, each slightly or drastically different from the others. The fallen suit was not the first in the hallway, nor the last. But it would’ve been the finest of the lot. At least, from all Frey could tell. Its sword gleamed almost with its own light, like a candle behind a paper, and the insignias of its blue shield caught his eye. He was almost tempted to take them up himself, test their weight.

There was a whimper, quickly muffled in (he knew) an attempted courage. Frey took a last glance at the armour, then hurried on, swift as a little brown fox.

Besides, he thought, almost chidingly as he turned his back, why should I care about getting all gussied up in knight gear? Heck. You’d think I was just some little kid playing pretend.

As he followed along, wiping all awe of the armour from his thoughts, the sounds changed. He began to hear less of the footsteps and more of the whispers, cautious and quiet. Almost too quiet. These hallways all flowed together like so many mapless rivers. He began to feel all too close to losing the current he was trying to follow. And he began to feel all too silly for the try.

But as he waded on through the shadows, groping for a sign, something stopped him. A sound, very close by. A voice, probably no older than his own.

A song.

It was the song that saved him. With its tune could be heard the sniffling, and he followed them both. He came closer and closer to finding. Then, there they suddenly were. Almost too suddenly—he had to dart back behind the last wall to keep from being seen. Once he was sure he was safe, he peered discreetly around the corner.

There were two children. Six and seven, he guessed (and Frey was always right about ages). Golden hair and brown. Both in their nightclothes. One was a boy (the sniffler), covered in dust and already-forming bruises. The other was a girl (the singer), wrapping a bandage round the boy’s arm. A feathered felt cap dangled from his other hand. A carved wooden box stood open at her side.

Frey listened a little closer to the song, but found he couldn’t understand it. Some unknown language had crafted the words. And… well, perhaps it was only the time of night. Perhaps it was only the strangeness of the striking scene. But to Frey’s mind, it might as well have been the language of the fairies.

No. Heck. Don’t be silly. It’s just a language from a place I’ve never been. Not from Fairyland. Only a baby would believe that.

Wherever their homeland, the foreign words formed almost a magical effect. As the girl sang, binding the arm, her hands seemed steadier than any grown-up’s. As she sang, ever so gently, the boy’s sniffles and whimpers died down, calming his stifled sobs. As she sang, even Frey’s sharp attitude waned, like a dagger lowering in his hand. Such a strange song! To his heart, its flowing lilt felt as simple and sincere as a farmhouse by a stream, and as alien as the notion of a home.

For a moment, he wished himself such a place. For a moment, he felt himself a child. And he did not hate the feeling, and he did not despise the wish.

But there. Now she had finished, and the song was over. She sighed and began putting the remaining bandages into her little box. And it was suddenly clear that no magic had been wrought. Blood was visible in the white of the bandage. Bruises had not vanished. Frey was eight years old no longer. But calm remained even still.

The boy smudged away the dusty tear-stains on his face. Then he looked at the girl. “What song is it?”

She looked up from her work. “Hmm?”

“I—” He sniffled, fidgeting with the rim of the cap in his hands. “I heard your grandfather humm—ming it afore. I heard you sing it afore t—too.”

“Oh… you did?” She turned her gaze back toward the box, seeming a little embarrassed. But the shadows would show no sign of a blush.

“Is—is it magic?”

At that, her smile broke like a laugh upon her face. “No, Naphtali, it’s not magic. It’s not grand enough for that. It’s just an old Scottish song.”

Frey nodded sharply at that, recovering his old, adultish attitude as if recovering a hat he’d let blow off. See? Not Fairyland.

“Me grandfather says it’s been with our family for generations past,” she continued.

“Ev—ven past him?”

“Oh, long past. He says it helps to steady the hands and steady the nerves. For both nurse and patient,” she added, giving him the smile.

The boy—Naphtali, she’d said—returned her a smile of his own, then wiped his nose and sighed. “Well, I think it’s grand enough to be magic. It made me be brave.” His grin grew, and he gripped the cap tighter. “Why, it could make me be brave if I got stabbed by a evil wizard, or smashed by a great troll, and then I’d be all better!”

As if such notions summoned all his courage, this Naphtali clapped the cap to his head, its plume bobbing, and hopped to stand on his seat. He lifted his arm as if it bore a sword and let out what must’ve been a mighty battle roar. Then he winced and clutched his chest. “Ugggghhhh, I’m dying…”

“Naphtali!” The girl glanced around, eyes wide, but hand covering a smile.

“The wicked one got me!” he gasped dramatically, sinking down. But he almost immediately popped up again, singing loudly (in almost the same tune), “DOMMY, get that to Ann Two-Bar! Dommy, get that to ANN AND PAN!”

She tried to shush him, no longer hiding her grin. “You silly, you’ll wake the whole castle!”

“Kiddy-kid, me too, bid me a snort! DOMMY AND ANN DORK-A-DUST!”

“That’s not even the right words!” she cackled. Oh, she was laughing now. Laughing like it was the first time she’d ever laughed before.

“WHOOP!” And he sprang up straight again, posing like a tournament champion. “See, Sharp Eyes? I’m allllll better! TADA!” Naphtali flexed his arms, then flinched and grabbed his bandage. “Ow.”

At the ridiculous scene, Frey couldn’t help but snicker. Then he darted back behind the wall, realizing his mistake as the two voices fell silent. He held his breath. They hadn’t seen him, had they? A moment trickled past. Then the girl called Sharp Eyes whispered something about how ‘the goblins’ would catch them if they didn’t hurry off to bed. The boy named Naphtali protested loudly that he’d fight them all, every one.

But by then, Frey was slipping away. He’d lingered too long already. If he wasn’t careful, the ‘goblins’ might catch him too. Ha! Only my goblins are tall and wear red uniforms. And they already caught Din.

He was pondering all the strange things he’d heard and seen that night—the towering suits of armour like silent knights, the flowing song’s not-quite-magic, the pair of children too young to be sweethearts, the talk of red goblins in the halls—and thinking what a funny tale it might make on paper. But in his pondering, he forgot his skulkiness. He rounded a corner a little too carelessly and crashed face-first into another person. For a moment, all he could see was red.

“Who are you?” demanded a voice not meant for sharpness. A gloved hand grabbed his sleeve. “What do you think—oh.”

The ‘oh’ softened the man’s tone, and the grip turned only to a hand on his shoulder. Frey turned his eyes up. There indeed stood a guard, a tall soldier, vigilance in his very features. But his gaze seemed kind, even in its caution.

Frey knew what it meant at once. All this dark-haired man saw before him was a youngster astray in the halls. Not some dangerous invader. It would’ve been a relief, if it hadn’t been so irritating to be seen as a child.

“Well, lad,” said the guard with a tiny smile, “roaming the castle of Othrys in the middle of the night is usually reserved for guards and ghosts. And you’re neither of those.”

“No need to beat around the bush, soldier,” Frey replied, knocking the hand from his shoulder carelessly. This condescension wouldn’t work on him. “If you’re asking about the crash, I’ll tell you now, it wasn’t me. I was an innocent bylistener, same as you. If you’re asking about something else, just tell me.”

“I was asking about something else—your reasons for being here, of all places, at this time of night.”

“Sure you were,” he dodged, folding his arms. “I can tell small talk when I hear it.”

The soldier tilted his head at the boy, eying him curiously. “Let’s say I was asking about the crash. What would you say if I asked you what you knew about it?”

“And what would you say if I was telling the truth?”

“If it was the truth, it would be my part to believe it. But it would be your part to tell it. And that is a part far more mature than lying or making excuses.”

“Well, then, let—”

Frey stopped. Frowned as he stared at the man. Turned a furrowed brow toward the floor. That last comment had struck him. It would be childish to make excuses. Not that he had done anything worth making excuses for. But as for lying…

He angled his eyes upward. There waited the soldier for truth. Well, he’d prove himself the more mature. He’d tell him truth.

“It was a boy and a girl. Mainly the boy, I think. I didn’t see it, but from what I saw and heard after, he must’ve knocked over a suit of armour. The one with the blue shield. He got himself a little injured, so the girl fixed him up. She…” His words stalled, memory making description difficult. “…she sang a song.”

The soldier’s guarded gaze softened, and Frey knew at once the man believed him. Believed him from experience, at that. Whoever the pair were, he knew them, and knew them by heart. Perhaps one of them was his child.

His theories went unspoken. The guard nodded and straightened. “I see. Well, that certainly solves the mystery of the crash. Do you happen to know where our culprits went?”

There, Frey’s newfound honesty fell. His cunning cut it down.

Unless my guess is wildly wrong, these two have done this kind of thing before. Makes things easier for me. It’d be almost natural to believe a drop of dishonesty in a whole storm of truth. Besides, his mind added, pushing aside conscience, I’ve already proved myself.

“Once the boy was bandaged up,” he continued, mostly in earnest, “he started pretending to be some kind of knight. He got excited and ran off, and she followed him. I heard him yelling about fighting goblins in the dungeon.” He shrugged. “I figured that must’ve been where they were headed.”

The guard fell into uncertain silence, as if considering the story. He glanced at Frey once more. At last, he nodded again. “Very well. If they are headed to the dungeon, we can’t let them get far.”

For a moment, Frey’s plan to find his partner seemed to be working beautifully. But his success was short-lived.

“Herald!” The soldier called down the hall. “Here! Herald!”

Within seconds, a form materialized at Frey’s side, so solid-seeming he almost thought it was a living man. But his eyes had been trained by Din’s. He caught the white glow, almost unnoticeable, in the old man’s form, and the light in his eyes that came from no earthly land. A light that no earthly hand, living or dead, could ignite.

The first thought that entered Frey’s mind as he took in the sight of him was of sheer astonishment—a Delivered. That ghost herald is a Delivered. I’ve never seen one—I-I almost thought they didn’t exist! The second was confusion. How old WAS this man when he died? He looks like he must be a hundred and three, or… or a hundred and four.

“Jacob Reuel,” said the soldier, nodding. “Good man.”

The Delivered nodded in return, as sagely as a faerie and as merrily as a child.

“I need you to go down to the dungeon and see if Prince Prometheus and Melisande are there. If they aren’t, wait for them a while.”

Jacob Reuel smiled as if all the world was worth smiling at and saluted. Then, turning his head, he winked at Frey. In an instant, he was gone, and Frey hadn’t the least chance to process the questions he wished he could have asked.

In fact, he hardly had the chance to process the word ‘prince’ before the guard spoke again. “Now, then,” he smiled, quietly friendly (and far too kind for Frey’s experience), “I think it’s still your part to be honest. Can you tell me who you are, and why you’re wandering the castle so late?”

Frey only missed about a half-beat. “I’m a new pageboy. However, I wasn’t told where to find the privy in my debriefing, so I went to find it myself. That’s when I heard the crash, and went to investigate.”

The man’s eyes slipped shut for a second or two, and Frey thought he heard him let out a quiet breath. As if he were dealing with some familiar annoyance. But his eyes were open again too quickly to tell. “Why are you dressed like a street urchin, then?”

“I’m off-duty.” Frey folded his arms as if offended. “I wasn’t given any off-duty clothes, so I had to wear my own—meaning these magnificent robes.” And he gestured with faux-grandeur to his shabby garb.

“We did take in some new pageboys recently…”

“There you are, then!” Frey threw out his arms in justification. “And now that I’ve done my part, I hope you remember yours?”

“That I do.” The man paused, eying him for a moment. “Do you recall the name of the man who gave you your duties?”

Though this gave his heart a jolt, his tongue was quick. “I’ve heard a hundred new names today. And I must be honest, I never was the best with them anyways.”

“Travers.”

He snapped his fingers. “Ah, Travers! I remember him now!” He tried to come up with a description vague enough not to give him away. “Yes, a couple of the other pageboys were talking dirt about him, but really, I didn’t see what was so bad.”

The dark-haired soldier leaned down, a keen look in his eyes, but a smile almost of amusement on his face.

“That’s me.”

Heck.

Frey grabbed the man’s arm with both hands and jerked. It didn’t do a great deal. But it did knock him just off-balance enough to distract him. The boy tried to dart around and disappear into the shadows. A hand on his own arm whipped him round again.

“Now you listen,” said ‘Travers,’ patiently commanding, “I don’t know what you’re doing here—”

“And you never will!” answered Frey, spinning and yanking out of his grip. He took off, running back and forth with nimble feet. He heard the man shout behind him. He heard footsteps following. But he also heard both slowly fading as he rounded dark corners.

Ha! This Travers fellow is slow on his feet. The boy smirked. Even if he knows these halls like the back of his gloved hand, there’s no chance of him keeping up with me.

Confident that he was well evading his pursuit, his thoughts turned to plans. He could continue his search for Din, of course. But now that guard was on the alert, and likely would set the rest to attention soon enough. And, too, there was the Delivered down at the dungeons. Din had never talked of fighting one of them, if it could even be done.

Before he could make any fraction of a decision, however, a shrill sound froze his steps and his blood. A scream, splitting the air like a crack of thunder.

A child’s scream.

Heart in his mouth, Frey glanced around. None were in sight. By the sound, nothing was nearby. Had it been a ghost?

Suddenly, there was another scream, quickly muffled. Nevertheless, it lasted long enough to give him a direction. Hardly thinking, he ran toward the sound. He may as well have been swept up in an unstoppable current.

He passed the suits of armour, silent as statues. He passed the bench where the boy had leaped up, so confident in his heroic games, and where the girl had laughed, so delighted by her friend’s antics. He passed beyond all the places he’d ever seen.

At last, not far from where he’d glimpsed the children last, he found them again. And they were not alone.

There by a window, silhouetted against a shadowy sky, stood a hooded form, not tall but looming like a hanging tree. And it gripped the golden-haired boy to its chest, seizing his mouth with talon-like fingers. His kicking legs dangled above the floor.

But he had a friend fighting for him. The brown-headed girl ran to catch up, her voice turned no longer to song but screams for help. Her little hands reached out for him, trying desperately to pull him loose. Beat off the arms that clutched him. Pry the cruel grip away. The felt cap was clenched in her hand.

In her attacks, she grabbed at the cloak, and the hood jerked from its head. The hair it revealed was long, and grey as dust. In the ragged moonlight, the woman’s face (for woman it was) twisted into a snarl. Frey stared at her features, mystified. Oh, he could guess ages. But the age in this face stretched into impossibility.

The ancient woman did not see him. Her fury was turned toward the girl at her waist, assaulting her in feeble fierceness. Sneering, she reached within the folds of her cloak. When her withered hand reemerged, it gripped something with a cruel, curved gleam. Frey had seen enough knives in his time to know exactly what it was.

Before she could drive it into her attacker, the woman suddenly screamed. The knife clattered to the floor. Frey’s eyes darted, and he saw her other hand, bloodied, and the boy’s teeth locked onto it like a crocodile’s.

Frey shrank back into the shadows, heart pounding. What now? Oh, heck, what now? His mind told him this dust-haired harpy was a witch. His sense was determined she was a kidnapper. Either way or both, she was dangerous, and seemed to have a strength beyond her shriveled appearance.

His blind steps stumbled, and he caught his breath. When his gaze dropped to the floor, he found his stumbling block wooden: a box, lying on its side. Some of its contents were scattered on the floor, leaves and bits of cloth. He’d seen that box. It was the girl’s box. A box that could be…

That could be enchanted.

Frey’s eyes widened. He remembered. A day came to his mind—he and Din, selling off a similar box they’d stolen. He remembered what Din had said to the man. He remembered the spell his partner described (for after all, he could say the words without worry). But Din had seen the close attention he’d paid.

‘And don’t you even think about trying that spell,’ he’d warned after the man left, scowling. ‘I don’t want a partner like our clients—you want to take advantage of their obsession, not get one yourself.’ His frown had gone lopsided, and he’d mussed Frey’s brown hair without looking. ‘Best to leave the magic to someone it can’t use, kid.’

Heck. Frey rolled his eyes at the memory. As if I’m so immature as to LET it.

All his thoughts flashed through like the lightning of a coming storm. He scooped up the box, as silently as possible, and glanced into the hallway again.

The moon had torn the clouds to tatters since last he saw it. It gleamed, full and round, in the frosted window. By its light, the old woman grabbed the boy’s bandaged arm, almost twisting it. The pain squeezed a cry from his lips.

“Leave him alone, y’ heartless hag!” The voice of Sharp Eyes slipped into a brogue as she battered the kidnapper with her fists. A clawlike hand to the face sent her sprawling, scratched and bleeding. The boy called Naphtali shouted her name and struggled furiously against the grip on his arm, trying to fight. But the grip only tightened.

Frey flinched, but tore his eyes away. He didn’t have time to think about them. He had to set the spell. Once he did, he’d throw the enchanted box at the—well, he refused to call her a witch—for a distraction. The three of them could make a break for it. Then, if the guards caught her, and his plan saved them, he could (as a recognized hero) get Din free. And how he’d gloat about using the spell to accomplish it all!

He ran through his memory to find the words of that old charm. Once he was mostly sure he had them, he started whispering them as quietly as he could. Right hand holding the box out in palm. Left hand touching its rim with fingertips.

The hint of a grin traced his features. Din hasn’t got a clue what he’s talking about. I’m not a child. I know what I’m doing. And I’m completely in control.

It didn’t last.

As he whispered, power began to flow, not out of him, but through him. A power he had never felt the likes of in his life. He could feel it, thick and sticky as blood on his fingertips. Before he had a chance to realize what was happening, the current swept over his mind, drowning his thoughts. He didn’t even try to save them.

The words of the spell fell from his lips like heavy rain. And suddenly, his voice was not his own to command. All around him was lost in wild storm, and his vision seemed to glaze over black.

Frey did not throw the box. He did not yell for the others to run. He had almost forgotten they were there. Voices screamed, glass shattered, but they didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered. All he could see was the box, eerie light gleaming through it like moonlight through frost. All he could feel was power, heady as wine and limitless as a raging sea, ready to destroy him, swallow him up, drown him in the taste of its darkness.

He wanted it to.

Suddenly, something shoved him, shaking him furiously. In the motion, the box dropped from his hands. And the sea’s fury was shut up in a second. A lid may as well have been clamped over it. Then, before he even realized what was happening, he was on the floor, and someone was hitting him, beating him with small fists. He barely felt it.

Words rang dimly in his ears. “Thu balach aingidh! Cruaidh agus aingidh!”

The black haze of his eyes began to part, and he saw a girl’s face, streaked with water and blood. She was hitting him. She was crying.

He shook his head, trying to form words. But they weighed down his tongue, and his mind was heavy with the aftermath of the storm.

“How could you?” she choked out, fury flashing in her tears. “How could you help that horrid witch? O, dè rinn do làmh? You and your black magic let her get away, and now she’s ta-take…” A sob caught in her throat, and she covered her mouth. “She’s taken him…”

Frey got to his feet. As the girl collapsed, weeping bitterly, he walked past her without another thought. He didn’t even notice the felt cap as he stepped on it.

His steps stopped only when they reached the fallen box. Closed. Its lid had been knocked shut when it hit the floor. He crouched and picked it up. His fingers pulled and pried, but it would not open. Locked, naturally or magically. The sea would not come through that opening, not by his power. If he wanted to taste it again, he would have to find other sources.

So he left it. Turning, he went down a small corridor as soldiers’ feet and kings’ shouts and children’s sobs echoed behind him. They didn’t see him. And he didn’t care to see them. Old women could leap from every window, and red goblins could chase them all the night, and it wouldn’t matter to him.

Frey hardly noticed when his escaped partner ran up to him, shaking him by the shoulders. He was still in a daze. His mind was still lost in that horrible tide, and the waves trembled at his fingertips yet.

Oh, he was not a child now.

~~*~~

[Chapter 1/Writing the Story]

[Chapter 6/Seeing the Lights] ... [Chapter 7/you are here!] ... [Chapter 8/The Lighthouse]

Also found on AO3, if you'd like to hop on over!

#tpc tangled au #the kingdom of othrys au #salt and light #the actual fic #naphtali #melisande #travers #salome #this one got dark #i am so sorry

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asktheheirofslytherin · 2 years

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Has anyone accidentally activated the dark mark when in awkward moment like the shower or doing the devil's tango w/ a partner .

What's the worst moment Snape activated it and do u ever get irritating of it.

You people seem to be under the impression that even the slightest touch would summon me. Someone must press their own index finger to the Mark and hold it for at least five seconds. I can also choose to ignore the call, and can instinctively intuit who is doing the calling.

So no, I have not been summoned to any nudity.

The most awkward summoning was Travers, who had poison ivy all over his left arm.

In terms of Severus- he was not the one to do the summoning but he was there: it was a group of young death eaters in a pub, and one summoned me on a dare.

I contemplated ignoring it, but showing up proved to be far more entertaining.

#voldemort #snape #severus #dark mark #summoning #Travers #poison ivy #lol

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etherealcharacterz · 10 months

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Penny Dawn