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blackberry-gingham · 3 years

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Mermaid reader x teddy!Beatles part 2!

John and George over here!

Paul

Somehow, Paul makes it home with all his Dad's things without being caught

Truly, it's a miracle

But it's not all thanks to avoiding his dad's wrath that he can't believe he's alive...

Whenever he gets some good, quality alone time, he takes out your scale and just admires it

You were beautiful in the moonlight of course, but somehow this scale alone is even more gorgeous in the light of day

This particular scale has a green and blue iridescence to it, and it's the most lovely thing he's ever seen

He honestly feels like he can see a different hue in it every day if he turns it juuuust right

And of course, it is nice to have on hand

Paul assumed you were just using a turn of phrase when you told him it was "for luck"

But it would seem he was mistaken...

Now he doesn't have many stories to tell, but last week there was a calculous test he absolutely was supposed to fail

And yet... He got a B+

A B+ !!!

That's never happened before, even if he did study

Then there was another time he won a nice lot of cash at billiards...

And the time he found a brand new free bus punch pas on the ground...

His dad sure was pleased at that one

He's even been noticing some improvements in his bass playing, particularly on the few times he tried using the scale as a pick

All these thoughts swirled in Paul's mind as he lays awake in bed

He's been so fortunate lately, and it's all thanks to you and your gift

If only he could just thank you...

He feels like it's the least he owes you

Especially considering he accidentally snagged you on a fishing line for your first meeting...

That's it. He's going to do it!

Paul turns over in his bed with a grin plastered to his face as a plan to sneak out to the lake formulates in his mind

He doesn't get the time to actualize said plan until a few days later however

Not ideal, but manageable

He decides on the same plan as last time: late at night, when no one is around

But it isn't until he's arrived at the pier that he realizes he hasn't considered how he'll get in contact with you

Paul paces back in forth in the dark

What to do, what to do...

First he decides to skip some stones

Hopefully none of them hit you, but perhaps disturbing the water will get your attention

When that doesn't work, he settles for something a little more rudimentary

Paul takes as deep a breath as he can, and yells a long "hello?" across the water

He waits a few moments and assumes it didn't work, so he winds up for a second go

As if on cue, you pop up from below the waves with an agitated look on your face first

"Do you mind? Us normal people are trying to sleep!", You whisper yell

But then, you gasp, upon finally recognizing him

"You again?"

Paul jumps a foot in the air, quite startled by your sudden appearance

But he gets his wits about him soon enough, and he drops to his hands and knees, "Yeah, I've been looking for you!"

You give him a sideways look, but Paul cuts you off before you can pose a question

"Before you get upset! I um, I wanted to say... Thank you! You know, for the scale!"

You look at him as though you haven't a clue what he's talking about, then the memory comes back to you

"Oh, um... Sure?"

"No no, you don't understand! All these wonderful things have happened for me and my family, and I- well, we're a bit bad off, so really I-I can't thank you enough! I thought the least I could do was come back and say it"

Your face softens at that

Not many people would consider giving thanks for a mermaid’s gift, they seem to much rather just enjoy the profit

“Of course, uhm...?”

“Oh, Paul!”

You smile at last and tell him your name out of courtesy

“Wow, that’s a lovely name! It suites a pretty bird like you, if you don’t me saying”

Paul gives you a wink, and you laugh in surprise

You assume it was a one off thing, especially as you part soon after having a short chat, but...

He comes back a few more times on separate nights to meet with you and tell you about the latest goings on

And of course, squeezing in his flirting game here and there

At first you're not sure

After all, you've done this song and dance plenty of times before, and things never seem to work out

But Paul is kind, and charming, and polite...

So many things you've yet to experience from a human

Eventually, Paul starts visiting you from a different point on the edge of the lake in order to spend better time together

It’s in the forest, away from the prying eyes of others

This allows him to visit you at all different hours, which gives him far more freedom to see you often

And before you know it, he brings you little gifts, like offerings, whenever he can spare something nice from his good fortune

“You know, we had our first ever gig last night... They loved us! We already have another one lined up!”

Paul talks excitedly, while you rest and listen on the little blanket he’s set out for you both

“That’s wonderful, Paul! Congratulations”

“Yeah, thanks!”, Paul clears his throat and looks away demurely. “It’s all thanks to you, ya know...”

“Oh I don’t know about that, you’re very tal-!”

“No, really it is... I um, I haven't told you this, but I've been using your scale as a pick for my bass here and there and... there's just something, magical about the sound it makes..."

He braces himself a bit, expecting you to feel indignant, no matter what his explanation

But instead you laugh, amazed to hear that it can do that too

And if course, touched to know that a piece of you was able to be with him for such a big event

So, Paul continues his story, "And I mean, the amount of coincidences that had to happen just for us to get in, let alone get another one lined up is too much for chance...”

He laughs casually, then gives a little stretch before putting his calloused hand over yours

Paul almost expects you to flinch or pull away, but... Nothing happens

No, you continue to look at him, a gentle, blissful smile gracing your face

Taking a little risk, he gently strokes the back of your palm

He speaks again, his voice dropping to a bit of a hush so that only you can hear “Not to mention I wouldn’t even have applied for the place if you wouldn’t have encouraged me to, heh”

"Well... I suppose all that's true...", You lean in a little closer to him, resting your head on his leather clad shoulder

Paul nudges your hair with the tip of his nose, with a playful smile, "Now, if only I could think of a way to thank you..."

You pick your head up and smile mischievously back at him

By now, you've begun to enjoy his cheesy little flirts

You glance from his eyes to his lips and back again, "Hm, I might be able think of something..."

Paul bites his lip and gives a toothy grin, leaning in slowly

Not missing a beat, you meet him halfway, gently closing the gap between you

And you soon decide, it's the best thank you you've ever received...

Well, right next to the one that came after it

Ringo

Ever since that day on the docks, Ringo can’t get you out of his mind

He thought for sure he was dead

In fact, he would’ve been for sure if you hadn’t saved him

He owes you his life

All he wants to do is see you one more time...

There was so much he wanted to say before you swam off

So here he is, alone at the abandoned dock for the third time this week

It’s about noon on a Saturday right now

The sun is warm and bright above while the ocean waves lap peacefully to and fro below

Ringo is still nursing several bruises from the last time, and as much as there’s a risk he’ll take another beating, he’s willing to take his chances

Of course, no sooner has the thought crossed his mind, then do the sounds of three familiar boots stomp up the old wood planks behind him

“Starkey! ‘Aven’t you learned you lesson yet?”

“Yeah, this is our dock!”

The boys taunt and threaten, as they approach Ringo once again

This time, he tries to take a stand

Unfortunately, any words he tries to say are washed out by the sudden rushing of the tide behind him

Then, by the laughing and jeering of the other gang

"Wha's that? Can't 'ear ya!"

Another round of mocking laughter, and suddenly Ringo feels about 2 feet tall

When the boys start to calm down, the leader of the teds gets very serious and sheds his jacket before handing iit to one of the others

" 'old this, don't want to soil it..."

But Ringo can barely hear them over the sound of the water

Is it high tide already?

The leader hardly takes a few steps forward before stopping at the curious sight of a sudden, large shadow

All the boys look up to see a massive, tsunami sized wave arcing up and over the edge of the pier

Just as soon as it arrived, it comes crashing on top of the other teds

Hundreds of pounds of water lay them flat against the wood, and by the time they're able to catch their wits and stand, they turn tail, leaving Ringo all alone

Ringo, who is perfectly unharmed...

The remaining pool of water dribbles off the edge of the pier, providing a little something for Ringo to focus on while he tries to collect his own wits

Just then, a gentle tap comes at his lower back, causing him to whip around

Your eyes are just barely peaking over the ledge when you whisper, "Are you alright?"

A great weight feels lifted off of him, as Ringo turns fully to face you

"Me? Fine! D-did you do that?", He nods over his shoulder, breathless, but excited

You smile and nod, "It's a bit... tiring... But it was worth it"

Know that he's calmed down a bit, you do sound a little out of breath

"Oh... Well, thank you... Really, I mean it!", he pauses, and then, "Say, do you want to rest a minute? Maybe on the shore? I can watch and make sure no one bothers ya!"

You're about to interject, maybe tell him he doesn't have to do that, but there's something about the look on his eyes that tells you he's not offering just to be nice

So instead, you agree, and Ringo meets you shortly amongst the brush and the rocks just a stone's throw from the pier

He takes a seat on a rock, as a wave gracefully deposits you on the sand

You crawl a short distance to a rock of your own and prop yourself up on it, enjoying the time to rest

As you get settled, Ringo can't help but admire you

He's focused on your tail and all the intricate, shimmering scales and fins that adorn it

Of course, you notice his staring, "...Does it bother you?"

Ringo snaps out of his daydream, "Huh? Oh, uh no! Not at all!"

He scratches the back of his head, and ducks down a bit

Even behind his scraggly beard, you can see a little blush

"Sorry... I um, I just think you're pretty..."

You're not sure why, but that makes you blush a bit too

You've been told that a thousand times before by humans, sailors, and mermen alike

But when Ringo says it, there's something more... innocent to it

Like a childhood crush, or a romance that blossoms between two close friends

"Oh... Thank you...", is about all you manage to get out

Ringo runs his fingers through his hair, trying to fix it up a bit, "My name's Ringo, by the way... Er, no, actually it's Ritchie, but me friends call me Ringo"

He holds up his hand and shows you a collection of various and intricate rings as though to justify his statement

They glint and gleam in the sun, all the various metals and gemstones like a kalidascope to your eyes

Ringo notices how transfixed you are, and feels a bit encouraged

Perhaps he hasn't scared you off just yet...

He takes a gamble, "Would you like to see them up close?"

You refocus onto him, "Well... If you wouldn't mind, sure!"

Your tail gives a swish behind you, betraying you and your excitement

Ringo hops up and over to your rock and takes as seat right beside you

The proximity startles you a bit, but he seems so excited to show off his collection to you, that you forget all about it

He splays out his hand for you to see, and you end up holding it in yours while he points to the details of each ring, telling their stories

His hands are rough and callused, with a bit of soft hair coming in around his knuckles

They're a bit bigger then yours still, which you find a little humorous

He's like a puppy that's growing into it's adult body, with his short stature yet large hands and ears and eyes...

Now that you mention it, they're just so blue...

"And this one, I- Uhm, are you alright?"

"Hm? Oh, sorry! I just- ahem. You're eyes... They're so pretty"

With your free hand, you gently caress the very edge of his eye socket then give the bridge of his big ol nose a few playful scratches

Ringo's heart leaps in his chest and a gleeful smile slowly spreads throughout his face

See, he's not like John or Paul... They have birds all over them

And what does he get? Teased. Ignored. Sometimes flat made fun of...

So to have such a beautiful woman as you take even a little fancy to him...

He's over joyed

The rings are immediately forgotten, and you tell him a bit more about what you like about him

You like the hair on his face... What is that called?

You like his smile, and the way he laughs...

And yes, you do like his nose, since he asked

Ringo feels like he's floating on a cloud. The genuine affection he's getting from you right now is beyond anything he ever dreamed of

He has to say something...

With a little clearing of the throat, Ringo gathers up how confidence to take oneore chance for the day

"So erm, is there... anyone waiting for you? You know, back there?", You nod towards the infinite sea

You look away, a sad smile tugging at your lips, "No, not really... Why?"

Ringo can feel his heart hammering now, and he takes his chance

"Well I was just wondering..."

He slips one of his precious rings off and hold it out to you

"If maybe you'd like to see each other... M-more often?"

Your eyes light up, and you realize that yes, yes you would like to do that...

He's estatic to hear it, and to seal the deal he slips his ring on your finger

For safe keeping, he says

And before you both part ways for the day, you make sure to give him his first, little kiss

#the beatles #ringo starr x reader #paul mccartney x reader #mermaid!reader #beatles x reader #beatles imagines

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sarah-bae-maas · 4 years

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Reign of Queens Chapter Three

When Aelin fell through worlds, she never dreamt that she would make it to Erilea alive. Half of her dream became a reality, she was alive, but she certainly wasn’t in Erilea. With foes at every corner and a powerful family ready to cull her for invading the body of a loved one, she has no choice but to play the games of the Night Court until she can figure out how to return home, hopefully without dragging anyone with her.

An AU! where Aelin fell into Prythian by mistake.

Masterlist Ao3

Chapter One Chapter Two

(If you’re wondering why I don’t much anymore, I feel like the audio it’s mental illness innit on TikTok sums it up pretty well. But I’m working on it!)

***

Azriel watched as the women hurried in the direction of the city. The woman, he thought, because that was most definitely not Nesta. He didn’t know how though. Because in a way it was still undeniably her. She smelt the same, she spoke with her usual venom, but Azriel had watched his brother’s mate for many years, and the way she moved was beyond the capabilities of Nesta.

And although her words held malice, he also found himself wanting to laugh with her. Like before, when she’d told Rhys he’d look lovely with a blade him in. Azriel had to forcibly refrain from laughing, and to remind himself that he should not find threats on his brother’s life as funny as he did. Azriel never really felt like laughing when Nesta was around.

He did not fly after her, Not-Nesta was too often searching above her. She was a smart one, too. If she wanted to evade him she could have. He could tell the moment they hit the forest’s edge as they were fighting that she meant to flee into the thicket, and she would have been able to if it had not been for Rhys.

That fight alone was proof enough to Azriel that this wasn’t Nesta. He had never seen some of the techniques used, and he found her a worthy opponent. He also took note of her visceral reaction to a whip, which was unusual considering it was Nesta’s weapon of choice.

Azriel did not want to go to Rhys with his theory until he had either proof or information on what Not-Nesta was up to. He could not so lightly break Cassian’s heart.

Velaris was still hesitant after the evacuation, not as many people milling about. Nesta wove through them without a thought – moving around them with footsteps as light as a dancer.

_____

The library was one of the grandest Aelin had ever seen. Sprawling in large spirals and winding in every direction, she could tell why this would be a solace for the women that worked here. Nesta gave her a brief history on the library’s inhabitants, but even if she hadn’t Aelin would have been able to tell. They had the look to them – that undeniable gleam in their eyes that spoke of trauma, of hardships but survival. It was one Aelin had seen in herself, in Lysandra, in little Evangeline. It was a look no woman or person in Endovier would ever have the chance to have. No person in Terrasen, Erilea, the world once Erawan was done with it. Her throat felt tight, and she rested her hand over her heart as if it might subside the pain. One of the librarians noticed and touched her elbow gently.

“If there anything I can get you, Lady Nesta? The usual?”

“Water would be nice, thank you,” her words blurred.

So you know them well? she asked Nesta. Well enough to have a ‘usual’ at least.

Cassian suggested I get to know them. Grow from them. Learn a little something or two.

Aelin didn’t need to ask why that might have been.

The woman returned and gave her a glass of water. After skulling it, Aelin asked after the book. Nesta had already told her that what you tell these women is always in confidence, and not even Feyre or Rhys would ever reach into their minds for information. It was too much of a violation, apparently. Aelin personally thought doing it on anyone seemed immoral. When Nesta explained Rhys’ magic Aelin had vivid flashbacks of the Valg princes at Mistward – but who was Aelin to judge morality?

“We haven’t had it here for years,” the librarian said apologetically. “The High Lord thought it’s presence made us vulnerable to attack.”

Aelin’s face fell; she felt Nesta sigh in regret.

“However,” she continued, “we have books about that book, and ones that date as far back. And if you have a particular subject in mind, I may be able to find you something with comparable content.”

Aelin gave them something better. She asked for a piece of paper to write on and jotted down a few harmless wyrdmarks. She asked for anything that had those symbols, and they gladly helped. Aelin took a seat, recognizing that although all libraries felt like a little slice of home to her, this was not her forte. And honestly, it was about time there was something she wasn’t at least fantastic at.

Aelin didn’t know if it was because she had been thrust into this world of if it had been from her forced rest, but she was exhausted. Even Nesta was quiet. Her eyes were sore, arms heavy, and her shoulders and neck started to ache.

She rested her head in her hands, her heavy eyelids fluttering. Whenever they closed, she saw the face of Rowan – grave, scared, hopeful. She perfectly saw the set of his jaw, and the twitch to his hands. To anyone else, it might seem like he was showing nothing at all. But she knew him better than that. Between visions of him, she saw Dorian. Both Dorians, now that she knew there were two. Gods, she hoped Dorian was alive and well. And she hoped that Chaol had learnt not to be as emotionally stunted as a pin cushion, so he could help his friend through this time.

Aelin wasn’t quite sure when she fell asleep, only that she was awoken by a slamming hand next to her head.

“Nesta, fancy seeing you here.”

Aelin bolted upright and turned to sneer at Azriel, who was closely followed by Rhysand. They both looked well, and although Rhysand was scowling, Azriel looking down-right jovial. An act, if his hard-set jaw was anything to go by.

“What brings you to the library?” Aelin asked casually, as though she didn’t still have drool on her face from her nap and tangles in her hair from where she had pulled at it in her sleep.

“Wanted to do some light reading,” Rhys said, his eyes glowing with something Aelin couldn’t name.

“What about you, Nesta? It’s been months since you’ve come here for a social chat.” Azriel’s hands were fisted too, even if his body was relaxed.

“Keeping tabs on me?” Aelin sneered. Good thing she had spent half her life learning how to talk to pompous men with big bank accounts and bigger egos, otherwise she might grovel at their unworthy feet. Instead, she presented herself as a challenger – as she knew Nesta would.

Azriel looked at her – dumbfounded. “Yes. Yes I am.”

Aelin didn’t expect such an honest reply.

“Don’t you want to know how he is?” Rhys questioned, stepping to Azriel’s side, one of his hands going to his shoulder.

“You look ravishing Azriel, your arm healed nicely I assume. Fae blood does such wonders.”

Aelin knew she had said something wrong the moment the words fae blood left her mouth. Nesta, who before now had chosen to stay out of this interaction, cursed.

Azriel shared a look with Rhys.

“I was not asking about me,” was not what Aelin thought Rhys would say. “I meant Cassian. You haven’t asked how he is.”

Azriel isn’t a fae you dumb fuck. He’s an Illyrian, so is Cassian, and so was Rhys’s mother.

Aelin coughed at the name. It wasn’t something she’d never been called before, but to hear it so softly spoken as though it were a fact was quite jarring.

And ask about Cassian. Please. I need to know he’s okay.

Aelin did just that, and Rhys practically glared at Azriel as he answered. “He’s worried, and Feyre is beside herself.”

“She’s thirty weeks pregnant, it’s to be expected that she’s emotional.” Repeating facts was good, showing them that she knew things was good. Calling Azriel a fae had been a strong misstep, one hopefully redacted as a slip of the tongue.

“The baby has nothing – Nesta, what are you doing?” Rhys glanced behind her, taking a peek at the books the librarians had procured for her. Books and – and cookies, bless their hearts.

“Some light reading. Which I was hoping to do in peace, if you would politely leave.”

Good luck trying to get HigH LoRd RhYSanD to do anything. He’s so stubborn he makes you look reasonable. Ask more about Cassian. Ask if he’s still going to Illyria today.

“Is Cassian still going to Illyria today? Maybe you could join him. He might actually like being in your presence.” Aelin smiled sweetly at the two men, trying to distract them from the books she was subtly trying to push aside.

“Cassian has decided to stay home, in case you need him,” Azriel said slowly, carefully deciding his words. Aelin tilted her head, studying him. He was quite beautiful, the kind of beautiful that would have made her do reckless things in her youth. And the darkness that surrounded him… although personified in the male in front of her, it reminded her so much of her Rowan that she wanted to scream. What had become of her in her own realm? What horror was Rowan facing alone? When she did what she did, she did so knowing that she would die. This was infinitely worse in some ways – she had no idea what was now happening at home. Was she comatose? Was she dead, and this was the afterlife?

And a possibility she didn’t want to linger on. That she could go back and be with him. But only if she made it in time. She knew Rowan better than she knew herself, and she ached at the possibility of what he might do if he lost another mate.

He might just try to join her in a death she hadn’t yet been granted, and she couldn’t exist in any version of reality that didn’t have Rowan in it.

That is how I feel about Cassian. He is everything to me, Nesta confessed, the words honest and strained. Tell them they should make him go. He needs a distraction, and I don’t want him seeing me like this. Azriel may assume I’m on a bender, and I don’t think I could cope if Cassian thought the same. Azriel and Rhys would feed him that lie. I fucking know they would.

“He should go. He has so much to do, and I don’t want him lingering and worrying,” Aelin said, looking down to try and seem more passive. Maybe if they thought her harmless, they would leave her be even if something was wrong.

“We tried. He doesn’t want to leave you.”

His gallantry was noted and would otherwise be appreciated. It was also clear he wasn’t the only stubborn Illyrian Nesta knew. The two in front of her wouldn’t budge even if it meant saving themselves from her wrath.

I don’t think they respect you very much, she told Nesta.

I prefer fear anyway.

Aelin hummed.

“Something funny?” Rhys asked, pulling up a seat beside her and swiping one of her cookies.

“I was just thinking… maybe I will go home. Make sure he’s okay.”

What? Why are you doing that? He’ll figure you out, idiot. Or worse, he’ll think I’m on the piss.

Aelin picked up the books, hoping she would be allowed to take the volumes home with her. There, they would leave her be. She just had to hope that if Cassian really was Nesta’s Rowan, then he would love her enough to keep her secrets. Aelin had the whole walk home to think of a lie extravagant enough to get them all off her back and figure out how to ask Cassian to not mention her new choice in genre. Something told Aelin these books differed from the obvious romance titles that lined Nesta’s personal shelves.

I’ll help you, Nesta said. If only so you leave quicker.

#rowaelin #nessian #tog #kingdom of ash #a court of silver flames #acotar #fanfic #feysand #acowar

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beyondthetower · 3 years

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The First Ball: The Shield & The Sorceress (Annette x Felix)

Summary: The war is over, and in the midst of getting the Kingdom back to normal, the King’s council convinces him to throw a celebratory ball.

Characters/Pairing: Annette x Felix

Word Count: 825

Warnings: None

A/N: Of course my second pair would be Netteflix. You know I’m obsessed with them.

The carriage pulled up to the palace in Fhirdiad. It had been a few months since the war had ended, but the castle was a far cry from fixed. Parapets still crumpled unevenly atop towers. High windows were still dusted with soot. The sky had gone back to it’s brilliant winter-blue, but that just made the city itself look down-right ruined.

Apparently the King had been more concerned with getting the people back to normal than getting the palace back to normal. Finally, something he respected about him. Felix stepped out of the carriage, staring out at the castle, remembering that the last time he had been here.

But a ball. Why did it have to be a ball?

Instinctively, Felix held out his hand toward the open carriage door. He kept his gaze on the palace, but when he felt the familiar tug on his hand he gripped it tight as Annette stumbled out of the carriage.

“Ugh, stupid shoes,” she grumbled. “Who thought it would be a good idea to pave streets with such uneven cobblestones?”

He waited patiently until she steadied herself, and once she let go of his hand she smoothed down her dress and hair and looking lovingly up at the palace. Felix wanted to be annoyed, her insistence was the only reason he was here after all, but of course he could never be annoyed with her. So instead, when she beamed up at him in anticipation, he forced something he hoped looked like a smile.

Felix had been used to these events, in a way. He grew up being forced into them, but back then it was more acceptable to sneak off with Dimitri, Sylvain and Ingrid to hold wooden-sword tournaments. He assumed that probably wasn’t acceptable anymore. After all, he was Lord Felix Hugo Fraldarius now. Dimitri had finally been crowned as their king and Sylvain and Ingrid took care of their respective territories. It wouldn’t do to be running around like children. Although, he was pretty certain that if he had asked they would all have agreed.

“So,” Annette said as she linked her arm through Felix’s and followed the crowd toward the large, entrance doors. “Are we going to tell everyone?”

Felix shrugged, looking down at the ring sparkling from her left hand. While he tried to play it off as if it was no big deal, he felt an annoying flutter in his chest every time he saw his mother’s ring on her finger.

“Oh come on, Felix,” she begged, pulling his attention back to her gaze. “They’re our friends, and I can’t keep it from them anymore! I’ll explode!”

“You say that like you’ve been keeping this a secret for years,” he pointed out.

“Well it feels like it,” she sighed. “I’m just so excited and I want to share it with them! They’re like family, Felix, and don’t you go denying it. I know you feel the same way. As much as you hate that fact.”

Ugh. Why did she have to be so cute?

“It’s not a secret, Nette,” he told her. “Tell whoever you want.”

“Then why have you been so weird?”

“I haven’t been weird,” he countered.

“Yes you have, you’ve been weird all week. Ever since I reminded you that this was coming up. What is it?” She paused. “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”

Felix looked down at Annette as she distanced herself from him.

Annette was wearing a new dress, one that she had seen in a small seamstress shop on her last visit to her parents place in Dominic territory. It was a dark, forest green, and while he stared at her he had a sudden urge to tell her that she was being dumb, and that could never be the case.

She crossed her arms and in a way Felix knew was extremely dangerous. Dangerous, because he was well aware that she would be able to get him to do anything she wanted with that look. She might not have known it yet, but she really did have him wrapped around her finger. When he reached out for her hand to reassure her, she softened and beamed at him. He felt his own anxiety fade at the sight of it. He was still not used to the displays of affection it took to be in a relationship, especially in one with Annette. But he did know he wouldn’t trade it for the world. So as forced as his movements were, he still tried.

“Embarrassed?” he asked gruffly. “For you maybe. You’re the one showing up with me.”

“You bet I am,” she said brightly, linking her arm in his again. She squeezed his arm again, her subtle way of thanking him for trying and letting him know she could tell. “And I couldn’t be happier.”

He smiled in spite of himself. He often missed her warmth in those moments she wasn’t by his side. He may not love the event, and he didn’t care much about seeing their old friends, but if it made her happy then he would do it without question. As long as she stuck with him, he would put up with the over-eager excitement once everyone found out they were to be married. In fact, he almost, almost, looked forward to it.

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem #fe: three houses #felix fraldarius #fe16 #fe3h fanfic #annette x felix #felix x annette #felix hugo fraldarius #annette dominic #annette fantine dominic #netteflix #the first ball series

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charliejrogers · 3 years

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Klaus (2019) Review & Analysis

I remember recently discussing with my fiancée how, though there have undoubtedly been a number of Christmas movies released in the last twenty years, none have really risen to the level of a “classic” – something you would want to watch every year as part of a tradition. It’s true I have not seen it, but still something tells me that 2008’s Reese Witherspoon vehicle Four Christmases is not on anyone’s annual watchlist… nor 2017’s Mel Gibson-infested Daddy’s Home 2. We concluded that the last “classic” was 2003’s Elf. And, while Christmas movies don’t have to mention Jesus or religion obviously, please don’t try to tell me that Frozen is a Christmas movie… it’s not! In some ways, given how secular things are, I began to wonder if there even was a market for holiday family fun movies, but of course, I’m an idiot because you can just make a whole movie about Santa Claus. Move over, Jesus, we gotta talk about the reason for the season!

Klaus released last holiday season on Netflix and at least in Chicago I saw billboards for it everywhere. Netflix went all in on promoting this as the next big Christmas movie and had some moderate success; they even grabbed an Oscar nom for best animated picture. Unlike most animated films these days, Klaus was made by neither DreamWorks nor Disney, and it shows. It lacks the refined polish of a Disney/Pixar feature, but also has a heart unlike a DreamWorks picture. The animation style can be best described as a hybrid of 2D and 3D (yet not quite 2.5D). At times the character models look like classic hand-drawn 2D models set within a mostly computer-generated 3D environment. But at other times, they look more 3D. It’s confusing to describe, and inconsistent to watch. It often felt like I was watching a compromise between a studio that wanted a distinct animation style but didn’t have the budget to fully realize it. Still, more often the not it’s a pretty movie.

More than the raw visuals, the movie has a fantastic sense of atmosphere… perhaps even too much at the beginning. Klaus is, in one sense, the story about how a lonely woodsman becomes the legendary Santa Claus, but for such a jolly premise, much of the film is shrouded in shadows and dominated by an oppressive, cold, snowy bleakness. In retrospect, this makes sense as the true triumph of Santa and “Christmas spirit” can only be best appreciated when it brings light to the darkest of places and times. Still, upon first viewing, I was quite surprised and shocked by the dark atmosphere and downright violent imagery on display at the beginning of the film, so much so that I was wondering if this really was a Christmas movie!

The darkness stems from the fact that our woodsman Klaus lives deep within the forest on a far north island, far far from the closest village which is a town called Smeerensberg and is famous for its never ending feuding and wickedness. It’s a genuine Nineveh of the North so it seems. The town’s feud centers around two rivalling clans (the film’s equivalent of the Hatfields & McCoys) and every villager belongs to one clan or the other. The two families’ feuds go back longer than anyone can remember (cave paintings exist that depict their feud), implying an original sin of sorts with the town being more born from hatred than spawning it. Hatred is so foundational that it infects every part of society. Unwilling to allow children to interact with the rival clans in classrooms, children just don’t go to school. Instead, they roam the streets playing pranks on old people and stabbing snowmen with carrots.

For the most part, Klaus lives his life separate from and unbothered by these unruly residents of Smeerensberg. What breaks his solitude is the arrival of a new post officer to Smeerensberg. More than a trivial side character, this post officer, Jesper Johansson, is surprisingly the main character of this movie all about the origins of Santa Claus.

Much like the residents of Smeerensberg, we the audience come to the film with a primary misunderstanding, much of what makes Santa famous today (the home invasion via chimney, the responding to letters, the reindeer-pulled sleigh) were the creative inventions of a spoiler-brat-turned-postman. So despite this movie being about the origins of Santa Claus, being a Christmas movie, you should have guessed that this will be some variant on Dickens’ classic tale. Jesper isn’t a classic Scrooge in that he doesn’t abhor Christmas, but he is self-absorbed, materialistic, and all-around not a great guy. He’s the spoiled son of a successful postal worker who controls a postal empire that looks more like an army. (The true fantasy of this movie has nothing do with sleigh bells and stocking stuffers… it’s the idea that the post office is a well-organized, well-respected, successful enterprise.) Anyways, recognizing his own son’s worthlessness, Jesper’s father decides to whip him into shape, ship him off to the God-forsaken land of Smeerensberg with an ultimatum: Jesper must process 6,000 letters from the town of Smeerensberg in a year or else be cut off from his father’s wealth. The problem? With how ugly the feud is in Smeerensberg, no one needs to write a letter to express their feelings when a cold snowball to the face (or worse) will get the point across quite clearly.

So now with the spoiled postal heir longing for silk sheets as he tries to survive out in the cold boonies, the movie gets a hint of the Emperor’s New Groove flavor… sans llama. It is only by sheer “chance” (we’ll get to that) that when Jesper visits the woodsman in a last ditch effort to find one person on the island who wants to send a letter, a piece of paper falls out of Jesper’s bag as he flees in horror of the woodsman (we’ll get to that). This piece of paper contains a drawing that a little boy made of himself locked in a high tower looking sad. In a very humorous scene, we had seen Jesper accidentally stumble across this drawing and then unsuccessfully try to scam the boy into giving him money so that Jesper could “mail” it back to him, rather than just give it back. Regardless, recognizing the little boy’s suffering, the woodsman decides to do something about it and enlists Jesper’s help. Luckily for the children of Smeerensberg, the woodsman has a barn full of toys. Yes, “a barn full of toys” is as creepy as that sounds and the films uses that creepiness to full effect when Jesper first meets the woodsman. The large, imposing, hooded, axe-bearing woodsman is far from the jolly fellow we know he is destined to become. He’s downright scary and given how violent the town of Smeerensberg is (Jesper almost dies when he first arrives because he’s tricked into ringing the war bell which sends the whole town into violent frenzy), we and Jesper are not wrong to assume the woodsman holds only ill-intentions. Essentially, the first meeting with the woodsman is supposed to be something akin to the reveal of the Beast in 1991’s Beauty & the Beast, a film so scary it sent my then two-year-old sister running out of theater in tears. Ultimately, I can’t speak for the mind of a child, but the tension for me here is certainly lessened by the fact that… well… we know the woodsman is Santa Claus. So even though Jesper is scared shitless and flees after meeting the woodsman, we know that there will be more to their story.

Still, even if not necessarily scary, the film does successfully shroud the woodsman in mystery, and his backstory is slowly and beautifully revealed throughout the film. I won’t spoil it here, but the script does a fantastic job of contextualizing the woodman’s stoic and aloof nature and explaining why that barn is so full of toys. The explanations come naturally and speak to a real human pain that I was not expecting from this film. In terms of emotion, the woodsman’s backstory almost reaches the opening montage to Up. ALMOST, I said, so put down the pitchforks!

So Jesper and the woodsman team up to deliver a present to that first child from the drawing. Or more accurately, the woodsman throws Jesper down a chimney to deliver a present while the woodsman looks on. The ensuing scene when the boy opens his present brought tears to my eyes. The woodsman (and we with him) watching the pure joy of a child receiving a present is truly nostalgic in its most literal sense. It hurts to see such joy, remembering that at one time you too could feel such joy from a hunk of plastic, and knowing you will never feel that way again. It’s a joy that few films outside of A Christmas Story with its the red rider BB gun really nail. Anyways, the little boy sees the woodsman through the window and finds his original drawing of himself locked in the tower which the woodsman leaves behind by accident. He surmises that the postman had devliered his drawing to the woodsman, and the woodsman responded with a present.

After that… well the rumor spreads wildly of the mysterious woodsman who comes down chimneys at night to give presents to children in response to letters. Now, the once dormant post office becomes a bustling hub of activity as children from all over flock to send letters to this Mr. Klaus. Kids even beg to go to school so that they can learn to write in order to get presents (much to the dismay of the disilliusioned teacher who long ago gave up on her dreams of teaching in a town where no child goes to school and had turned to being a fishmonger in order to pay the bills and one day afford to leave the town for good).

Gradually the children, who seemingly had no toys prior to Klaus and Jesper’s escapades, now joyously play together, regardless of which clan they belong to. Initially this upsets their parents greatly, but in the end it’s hard to really hate the parents of your children’s friends. The film promotes an age-appropriate and inspiring, if fanciful and naïve, notion that all the world’s problems would be solved if we all thought like children. As by spreading joy throughout the town, Jesper and Klaus inadvertently make the town a better place to live. It’s the theme of the film (not that they’re subtle about it): one act of good-will always begets another (or something like that). Still, all this doesn’t please the village elders, who abhor the change from the town’s hateful origins. They will ultimately serve as villains trying to put an end to all this gift-giving business.

Of course, there’s another villain of sorts, as well. Despite all the good he’s doing, Jesper is ultimately still motivated mostly by the notion of getting back to his old cushioned life. He is essentially using Klaus and preying on his kindness in order to launch himself back to a life of selfishness. It’s here the story feels most Dickensian, particularly in a scene where the school teacher (now love interest) acts functionally the same to the ghost of Christmas present and takes Jesper to the city center to see for himself the love and joy that he has helped bring to the world. But, still his desires to go home are strong, and, of course, he keeps them a secret. So between Jesper’s inner conflict about where he belongs in life and the external conflict of the community trying to fight back against a change in its culture, the film naturally comes to climax when the two conflicts meet and Jesper must confront both challenges at once.

What I’ve realized in writing this review … is that I am very impressed by the plot’s complexity and depth. The film weaves together at least three solid story arcs (Jesper’s coming-of-age/Scrooge-like-change-of-heart, Smeerenberg’s bubbling kindness revolution, and the woodsman’s aged hero who finds redemption and purpose after so many years alone). That all three feel fully supported and without any bloat is a testament to its absolutely solid writing, and for a kid’s film no less! Furthermore, the “origin” story genre can sometimes fall flat as it can just feel like the writers are writing more Wikipedia entries, explaining how every little aspect came to be more than just telling a good story. I call it the Han Solo trap. As for Klaus, the little tidbits about why Klaus uses reindeer and not horses, who the “elves” who work his workshop are, always clever and grow organically from the plot.

Plus, despite my opening doubts regarding whether the dark tone really fit a “Christmas” movie, the film very capably captures the joys of the Christmas season. Like Christians think about Jesus, Klaus/Jesper bring a world of light into a world of darkness. The film teaches about the importance of creating a loving community, of being selfless, and most importantly of respecting the spiritual aspect of the season. Even if this is a decidedly capitalistic/entrepreneurial movie, the film is not without a spiritual side. The previously mentioned “chance” of the woodsman seeing that initial drawing of the boy locked in the tower is no chance at all. Instead, throughout the film we see that the woodsman is “haunted” in a sense by a ghostly wind that points him in the path of righteousness. The film has its own explanation for what the force behind the wind is, but it is not too far of a stretch to point out the similarities between the wind and the Christian idea of the guiding Holy Spirit. Now, I’m not going to sit here and tell you that the woodsman represents God the Father and Jesper God the Son, (or is Klaus more the Christ figure?) because I think this movie is decidedly not Christian, but more I just want to highlight that I enjoyed that the film allowed for the presence of spirituality, which moves this film from the realm of secular kindness to one that recognizes the power and presence of some spiritual goodness, aligning with how many think of the “Christmas spirit.”

Now, let’s be clear, this is a fun, family classic, but it’s not a perfect film. In fact, I downright disliked the first twenty to thirty minutes, for the aforementioned tonal reasons, but also because I really disliked Jason Schwartzmann’s voice acting in the lead role of Jesper. My dislike lessened with the introduction of the woodsman, but it never went away fully. I can’t help but think this movie would be better with a different actor voicing Jesper. Everyone else does an adequate job with the voice work. J.K. Simmons as Klaus takes on an almost Batman-like stoic gruffness, and Rashida Jones as the teacher and love interest is just fine. And, again, I never really fell in love with the art style and it sometimes distracted me, and I found the soundtrack, particularly the main song to be rather lame and too much “of its time” than the typically timeless, more Broadway productions that Disney/Pixar put out. Still, director Sergio Pablos has done something I did not think possible. He and his team created a *new* Christmas classic, one that I’m sure will be played on an annual basis in many households across the world.

***1/4 (Three and a fourth stars out of four)

#klaus #klaus 2019 #jason schwartzman #rashida jones #j.k. simmons #sergio pablos

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ninja-muse · 4 years

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i’m trying to branch out and read outside my genre (fantasy) do you have any book recs for someone whose heart is in fantasy but needs to see what else is out there?

Hi anon! Thanks for the ask! Fantasy’s such a wide genre, and this is such an open ask, that I’m mostly going to be recommending books with similar feels or themes from other genres, to push you a little outside the fantasy bubble and introducing you to different genres and types of storytelling. If you have a favourite subgenre or trope or author, I can maybe get a little more specific or offer read-alikes.

Also, I don’t know if you knew this before asking, but fantasy is my favourite genre too, so some of these recs are books that pushed me out of the genre as well, or that I found familiar-but-different.

And this is getting long, so I’m going to throw it under a cut to save everyone scrolling.

Science fiction

the Vorkosigan saga by Lois McMaster Bujold - This is space opera, which means it’ll have fairly familiar plots except with science-y things instead of magic. There’s an heir with something to prove, heists, cons, and mysteries, attempted coups and assassinations, long-suffering sidekicks, and a homeworld that’s basically turn-of-the-century Russia but with fewer serfs. It was one of the first adult sci-fi books I read and genuinely liked.

The Book of Koli by M.R. Carey - I finished this recently, and the second book of the trilogy just came out. This is post-apocalyptic sci-fi, but not grim or particularly complex. (Some SF gets really into the nuts and bolts of the science elements; this isn’t that.) Basically, Koli’s a teenager who wants more than his quasi-medieval life’s given him, and finds himself in conflict with his village (and then exile) because of it. I could see where the story was going pretty much from the start, but I loved the journey anyway.

The Martian by Andy Weir - This doesn’t have much in common with fantasy, but it’s my go-to rec for anyone who’s never read science fiction before, because it’s funny, explains the science well, and has a hero and a plot you get behind right away. In case you haven’t heard of it (or the film), it’s about an astronaut stranded on Mars, trying to survive long enough to be rescued.

Foreigner by C.J. Cherryh - This is an alien first contact story, about a colony of humans in permanent quarantine on an alien planet. The MC is the sole social liaison and translator, explaining his culture to the aliens and the aliens to the human, and working to keep the peace—until politics and assassins get involved. It’s been over a decade since I read this, so my memory’s blurred, but I remember the same sort of political intrigue vibes as the Daevabad trilogy, just with fewer POVs.

Who Fears Death by Nnedi Okorafor - One from my TBR. It looks like dark fiction about women, outcasts, and revenge, which sounds very fantastic and the MC can apparently do magic—but it’s post-apocalyptic Africa.

Speaking of political intrigue and sweeping epic plots, the Expanse series by James S.A. Corey has both in spades. Rebellions, alien technology, corrupt businesses, heroes doing good things and getting bad consequences, all that good stuff. It takes the science fairly seriously, without getting very dense with it, and will probably register as “more sci-fi” than my recs in the genre so far.

Oh, and Dune by Frank Herbert is such a classic chosen-one epic that it barely registers as science fiction at all.

Graphic novels

It’s technically fantasy, but assuming you’ve never picked up a graphic novel before, you should read Monstress by Marjorie Liu. Asian-inspired, with steampunk aesthetics, and rebellions and quests and so many female characters. It’s an absolutely fantastic graphic novel, if you want a taste of what those can do.

I’d highly recommend Saga by Brian K. Vaughan. It’s an epic science fiction story about a family caught between sides of a centuries-long war. (Dad’s from one side, Mom’s from the other, everyone wants to capture them, their kid is narrating.) It’s a blast to read, exciting and tense, with hard questions and gorgeous tender moments, and the world-building somehow manages to include weaponized magic, spaceship trees, ghosts, half-spider assassins, and all-important pulp romance novels without anything feeling out of place.

Historical fiction

Hild by Nicola Griffith - Very rich and detailed novel following a girl growing up in an early medieval English court. It’s very fantasy-esque, with battles and politics and changes of religion, and Hild gets positioned early on to be the king’s seer, so there’s “magic” of a sort as well.

The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry - A widow goes to the Victorian seaside to heal and reawaken her interest in biology. Slow, gentle, lovely writing and atmosphere, interesting characters and turns of plot. Doesn’t actually deliver on the sea monster, but still has a lot to recommend it to fantasy readers, I think.

Yiddish for Pirates by Gary Barwin - The late-medieval Jewish pirate adventure you didn’t know you wanted. It’s funny and literary, full of tropes and set pieces like “small-town kid in the big city” and “jail break”, and features the Spanish Inquisition, Columbus, the Fountain of Youth, and talking parrots, among other things.

The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett - A thousand pages about the building of a cathedral in England, mostly focusing on the master builder, the monk who spearheads the project, and a noblewoman who’s been kicked off her family’s land, but has several other plots going on, including a deacon with political ambitions, a war, and a boy who’s trying so hard to fit in and do right.

Sharon Kay Penman - This is an author on my TBR, who comes highly recommended for her novels about the War of the Roses and the Plantagenets. Should appeal to you if you liked Game of Thrones. I’m planning to start with The Sunne in Splendour.

Lady of the Forest by Jennifer Roberson - Either a Robin Hood retelling that’s also a romance, or a romance that’s also a Robin Hood retelling.

Hamnet & Judith by Maggie O’Farrell - A novel of the Shakespeare family, mostly focused on his wife and son. Lovely writing and a very gentle feel though it heads into dark and complex subjects fairly often. A good portrait of Early Modern family life.

Mystery

There’s not a lot of mystery that reads like high, epic, or even contemporary fantasy, but if you’re a fan of urban fantasy, which is basically mystery with magic in, then I’d rec:

Cozy mysteries as a general subgenre, especially if you like the Sookie Stackhouse end of urban fantasy, which has romance and quirky plots; there are plenty of series where the detective’s a witch or the sidekick’s a ghost but they’re solving non-magical mysteries, and the genre in general full of heroines who are good at solving crimes without formal training, and the plots feel very similar but with slightly lower stakes. Cozies have become one of my comfort-reading genres (along with UF) the last few years. My intros were the Royal Spyness novels by Rhys Bowen and the Fairy Tale Fatale books by Maia Chance.

If you like your urban fantasy darker and more serious, and your heroines more complicated, try Kathy Reichs and her Temperance Brennan novels. Brennan’s a forensic anthropologist, strong and complicated in the same ways of my fave UF heroines, and the mysteries are already interesting, with a good dash of thriller and a smidge of romance.

Two other recs:

Haunted Ground by Erin Hart - The first of four books about a forensic anthropologist in Ireland, who’s called in when the Garda find bodies in the peat bogs and need to know how long they’ve been there. They’re very atmospheric—I can almost smell the bog—and give great portraits of rural Ireland and small-town secrets, and since not all the bodies found in each book are recent, they also bring interesting slices of the past to life as well.

A Burnable Book by Bruce Holsinger - This is essentially a medieval thriller about a seditious book that’s turned up in London. I liked the mystery in it and that it’s much more focused on the lives of average people than the rich and famous (for all that recognizable people also show up).

Classics

Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift - I swear this is actually one of the first fantasy novels but few people ever really class it as such. Basically, Gulliver’s a ship’s doctor who keeps getting shipwrecked—in a country of tiny people, a country of giants, a country of mad scientists, a country of talking horses, etc. It’s social satire and a spoof of travelogues from Swift’s time, but it’s easily enough read without that context.

Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll - Another, slightly later, fantasy and satire! Even more amusing situations than in Gulliver’s Travels and, while it’s been a while* since I read it, I think it’ll be a decent read-alike for authors like Jasper Fforde, Genevieve Cogman, and that brand of light British comic fantasy.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare - Also technically a fantasy! I mean, there are fairies and enchantments, for all it’s a romantic comedy written entirely in old-fashioned poetry. It’s a pretty good play to start you off on Shakespeare, if you’re interested in going that direction.

On the subject of Shakespeare, I would also recommend Much Ado About Nothing, Macbeth, and King Lear, the first because it’s my favourite comedy, the others because they’re fantasy read-alikes imo as well (witches! coups! drama!).

the Arthurian mythos. Le Morte D’arthur, Crétien de Troyes, The Once and Future King by T.H. White, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court by Mark Twain, etc. - I’ve read bits and pieces of the first two, am about 80% sure I read the third as a kid (or at least The Sword in the Stone), and have the last on my TBR. Basically, these stories are going to give you an exaggeratedly medieval setting, knights, quests, wizards, fairies, high drama, romantic entanglements, and monsters, and the medieval ones especially have different kinds of plots than you’ll be used to (and maybe open the door to more medieval lit?) **

Beowulf and/or The Odyssey - Two epics that inspired a lot of fiction that came later. (There’s an especial connection between Beowulf and Tolkien.) They’re not the easiest of reads because they’re in poetry and non-linear narratives, but both have a hero facing off against a series of monsters and/or magical creatures as their core story.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley - The first real science fiction novel. It’s about the ethics of science and the consequences of one’s actions, and I loved seeing the Creature find himself and Frankenstein descend into … that. It’s also full of sweeping, gothic scenes and tension and doom and drama.

* 25 years, give or take

** There are plenty of more recent people using King Arthur and associated characters too, if this "subgenre” interests you.

Other fiction

Vicious by V.E. Schwab - I don’t know if you classify superheroes as science fiction or fantasy or its own genre (for me it depends on the day) but this is an excellent take on the subject, full of moral greyness and revenge.

David Mitchell - A literary fiction writer who has both a sense of humour and an interest in the fantastic and science fictional. He writes ordinary people and average lives marvelously well, keeps me turning pages, plays with form and timelines, and reliably throws in either recurring, possibly-immortal characters, good-vs-evil psychic battles, or other SF/F-y elements. I’d start with either Slade House, a ghost story, or Utopia Avenue, about a ‘60s rock band. Or possible The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet, which I fully admit to not having read yet.

Devolution by Max Brooks - A horror movie in book form, full of tension and desperation and jump scares and the problems with relying on modern technology. The monsters are Bigfeet. Reccing this one in the same way I’m reccing The Martian—it’s an accessible intro to its genre.

Son of a Trickster by Eden Robinson - Contemporary fiction with a slight literary bent, that doesn’t pull its punches about Indigenous life but also has a sense of humour about the same. Follows a teen dealing with poverty and a bad home life and drugs and hormones—and the fact that his bio-dad might actually be the trickster Raven. Also features witches, magic, and other spirit-beings, so I generally pitch this as magic realism.

The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones - Another Indigenous rec, this time a horror novel about ghosts and racism and trying to do the right thing. This’ll give you a taste of the more psychological end of the horror spectrum.

Eliza and Her Monsters by Francesca Zappia - A good example of contemporary YA and how it handles the complexities of life, love, and growing up. Follows the writer of a fantasy webcomic who makes a friend who turns out to write fic of her story and who suddenly has to really balance online and offline life, among other pressures. Realistic portrait of mental health problems.

Non-fiction

The Book of Margery Kempe - The first English-language autobiography. Margery was very devout but also very badass, in a medieval sort of way. She went on pilgrimages to Jerusalem, was possibly epileptic, frequently “saw” Christ and Mary and demons, basically became a nun in middle age while staying married to her husband, and wound up on trial for heresy, before talking a monk into writing down her life story. It’s a fascinating window into the time period.

The Hammer and the Cross by Robert Ferguson - A history of medieval Norse people and how their explorations and trade shaped both their culture and the world.

A Time of Gifts by Patrick Leigh Fermor - Travel writing that was recommended to me by someone who raved about the prose and was totally right. Fermor’s looking back, with the aid of journals, on a walking trip he took across Europe in the 1930s. It’s a fascinating look at the era and an old way of life, and pretty much every “entry” has something of interest in it. He met all sorts of people.

Tim Severin and/or Thor Heyerdahl - More travel writing, this time by people recreating historical voyages (or what they believe to be historical voyages, ymmv) in period ships. Severin focuses on mythology (I’ve read The Ulysses Voyage and The Jason Voyage) and Heyerdahl’s known for Kon-Tiki, which is him “proving” that Polynesians made contact with South America. They both go into the history of the sailing and areas they’re travelling through, while also describing their surroundings and daily life, and, yes, running into storms and things.

Hope this helps you!

#bookblr #booklr #fantasy #read-alikes #answered asks #book recommendations #rec lists

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myhauntedsalem · 3 years

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13 Creepy Camping Encounters That Will Put You off the Great Outdoors

1. The Crying Girl

“When I was younger probably like 10 or 11, I went camping with my family. I’ll just get right into it. It was about 1 or 2 in the morning, and I couldn’t really sleep. The tent me and my brother were in was really hot, and very uncomfortable. Anyway, while I was trying to go to bed I heard a very faint whimper. I tried to ignore it because I figured I was just tired. Our campsite was along a road with many other camps nearby. The whimper started to get louder, and then turned into crying. I heard footsteps outside of our tent, and a girl crying.

Now let me tell you, it didn’t go faint, it got louder and louder. It remained in the same spot the entire time. That’s so important because, it indicates that she was looking at our tent site, crying. It gets worse, then it turned into a full on scream for a few seconds, then cuts out. When she started screaming by brother woke up. We both look at each other and just get all the pillows and stuff our head under them.

I couldn’t sleep at all that night. I’m just glad we left the next morning.” – Keithic

2. The Shaking

“This happened to an acquaintance of mine and his son. This took place back in the early ’90s.

He had taken his young son for a father and son type hike out of Skagway. If any of you are familiar with Skagpatch, there is quite a network of trails above town at lower Dewey lakes.

So, it’s evening, dinner done, tent up, bed time. Sometime later, around midnight, he’s woken up by the tent shaking violently, then silence. Then again. Keep in mind its late August, and pitch black, I mean as pitch black as you can get under the heavy coastal rain forest with no moon.

This shaking kept up for over an hour. He had no idea what it was. He went out with his headlamp, yelled, and heard nothing. Would go back in the tent, then it would start up again. He could here footsteps whenever it happened.

He was pretty shaken up by the next morning as you could imagine.

He reported it to the troopers, and the only thing they could come up with was someone with a night vision set up messing around. Or something else…” – Yukoner

3. The Middle of the Woods

“This happened to me when I was little. I went camping with my older brother and my mom. I was about 7 or 8 and I went to bed around 10 in a sleeping bag inside my tent with both my mom and brother. Some time during the night, I don’t know when, I woke up somewhere in the middle of the woods still in my sleeping bag. I had no idea where I was or where my tent was. I screamed for my mom and I heard her calling back for me in panic but she was easily 100 yards away or so. To this day I have no idea how I ended up in the middle of the woods still inside my sleeping bag. Gives me the chills.” – cckaufmann

4. The Hanging Man

“Hiking the Appalachian Trail in Pennsylvania for a week in…2006 and my brother and I came across a young man who had hung himself. We sprinted up to the bluff where he was strung up. I wrapped my arms around his waist to take weight off his neck while my brother cut him down with his Leatherman. He had thrown the rope up over a tall branch and lashed it off with a clove hitch at the trunk like you’d hang a bear-bag. Must’ve climbed the branches and dropped once laced in. We probably shouldn’t have even tried, he was dead for sometime before we happened across him. Fortunately no critters had come to tear him apart before we found him, it would’ve only gotten grislier from there. Called 911. Ended our trip pretty damn quick.

I don’t know why we tried, it was very obvious he had been dead for some time. Don’t know how long, he was very cold and smelled pretty bad. Intuition to help someone and adrenaline that clouds your judgement I guess? It was kind of a fucked up day so I don’t really remember my thought process.” – Anonymous

5. Scratches

“About one month ago, we are riding a favorite trail up near Camp Verde. Oldest son is leading, youngest is following him, a friend behind him and I am sucking up rear. Come over a hill and I see my youngest son with all of his gear off and his jersey. I came up asking what was wrong, thinking that he crashed, He said his back was burning. I looked and there were three scratches across his back. Looked like claw marks. No blood, but very distinct. He had a chest/back protector on so there is no way a tree branch or anything got him. We finally got him geared back up and headed out. About 30 minutes later, we reached a spot where we always stop for a break. I asked him to take the jersey off so that I could see the scratches again. They were completely gone.” – THB

6. Music in the Night

“A couple of years ago my brother bought a large piece of land out in the middle of nowhere, about thirty miles or so from cell phone reception. It’s quiet, there is no light pollution, no paved roads, and not a lot of people around.

Shortly after he bought the place, two of my brothers (the land owner and another), me, and our families spent a weekend camping on the land and doing our best to clean it up; people had used it as a dump, there were many downed trees, etc. On the second night we camped there, I woke up in the middle of the night to take a leak. As I was walking to the bushes in the dark, I realized that I could faintly hear music. This didn’t strike me as odd because I knew my brother had a radio in his camper. I finished up and went back to sleep with no further thought on the matter.

The next morning at breakfast, I mentioned the radio and music. Several other people recalled waking in the night and hearing music, but no two people heard the same music. Finally, the brother who brought the radio woke up. I asked him about the music and he seemed a bit freaked out. He woke up sometime during the night and went outside to smoke. He heard music as well and had assumed it was someone else. I should mention that he was the only one with a generator and a radio. It wasn’t his radio we heard, it wasn’t anyone else’s either.

I’ve been back several times, but I’m a bit freaked out by that place at night. I have fun while I’m there, but I’m almost always armed and I don’t sleep in a tent anymore, I sleep in my SUV with the doors locked. It may seem kinda dumb, but realizing that everyone heard different music when there are no people, no functional radios, and no electricity is quite creepy.” – goat-of-mendes

7. The Light

“We were in a river-side cabin one night in Northern Michigan. I had just stretched out when a huge crack erupted from the woods. Both of us thought it was a branch or old tree that had fallen.

After he turned off the living room light, we noticed that the light coming from the windows was abnormally strong. This sent our nerves to a new high. The light seemed to pulse several times and got so bright at one point you could have read a book by it. It couldn’t have been a car as we were almost a mile off the road on a dirt trail. Plus, the light came in from all the windows equally.

Every so often we would hear a strange humming noise that penetrated that cabin. This lasted almost half an hour. We talked about just running out to the car and leaving but neither one of us wanted to go outside.

After the light went out, we sat on the couch, occasionally putting forth theories on what it could have been. Around four o’clock in the morning, there was another loud crack. We worried that the light might come back but nothing happened.” – R. Bassil

8. Blue Spectre

“My friend and I were walking just outside of the circle of cabins. It was a bright night with all the stars shining and the moon was well lit. There was a campfire going, and in one of the big cabins there was a party going on with music and so on. We were walking, and we both got a really weird feeling, as if we were being watched. We both turned toward the sea… we saw a blue figure, very tall – about 7 feet – walking through the trees. It made no sound at all. It was a bright blue and glowing figure walking through the forest. It was emitting a shimmery aura, and my friend and I both became very frightened. We shouted at whatever that thing was and we were asking it what it was. We got no reply, of course, but we expected one. We stared as it walked away and out of our vision; we didn’t dare follow it.

We then ran back to the group of people at the camp fire, screaming and describing what we saw. Another friend of mine claimed he was watching it from a distance not far from were we were and was just as frightened as I was.” – Devin

9. Footsteps Upstairs

“Not something I experienced, but my sister and her husband did.

My family used to have a cabin on a lake in the Northwoods. It’s a lake with no public access. On the other side is/was an old Girl’s Camp that the state was letting fall apart. The camp had a large, two-story main house that was mostly intact at the time.

My sister and her husband decided to check out the camp one day. They canoe’d over and started to walk around. They went into the Main House first. They walked around for a bit. And then they heard heavy footsteps upstairs. These footsteps turned into someone running heavily towards the stairs.

My sister and her husband booked it out of the house, but they could hear the steps coming down the stairs and on the main level as they ran out. They opted to run around the house instead of heading back to the shore.

They never saw who it was, but they heard them enter back into the house. And then they heard them storm back outside again. They went into the woods this time and heard someone running in the woods after them.

They took the long way around the lake back to the cabin.

My dad and I had to go back later that day to get the canoe. We never heard or saw anything.” – joftheinternet

10. Geocaching

“I’ve been geocaching in the woods many times, and occasionally one runs into caches with weird things in them. The creepiest was an ammo box with only a handful of finds that contained broken doll parts and a handwritten note that said “Look behind you”. I definitely had the heebie-jeebies and double-timed it back to my car despite it being the middle of the day. It’s crossed my mind before that geocaching would be a great way for a serial killer to lure people out to remote locations.” – Anonymous

11. Who Followed Us?

“This happened in 81 or 82. Not sure anymore.

I had made friends with a fellow I worked with and offered to take him gigging for frogs. He was from the city and had never spent any time in the woods at night. The farm I had permission to do it on was only about a mile from my place. My friend showed up at 10:30 or so and I gave him a gig and a flashlight. We decided to walk to the other farm. We didn’t get far before we both heard something walking in the dark to the side of us. I’ve been in the woods all my life and I’ve had plenty of deer follow me but I wasn’t going to tell him that. It was clear he was getting spooked. We climbed a fence and continued on. Then we heard something else climb the fence.

Deer don’t climb fences. I tried looking around with the flashlight but he wanted none of it. We could see the house lights of the place we were going to and he ran off on me and beat on the guy’s door until they let him in. By the time I got there Mr. Barber, (the land owner), and his wife was out on the porch and wanted to know what was going on. Mr. Barber and I went back and had a look around but found nothing. My friend refused to walk back and Mr. Barber gave us a ride back to my place. We never did find out what or who it was that was following us.

My friend decided that frogging wasn’t for him. He has also refused to go on several fishing trips I have invited him to. I can’t say I was too comfortable with what happened but I haven’t let it stop me from frogging.” – Smoker

12. The Circle

“I was backpacking in New Hampshire and camped out for the night after a day hike. I wondered off from our fire to go take a piss and stumbled upon a circle etched into the ground with tuning forks surrounding the circle standing up straight…It looked like a creepy ritual circle and it bugged me out so I booked it back to the group.” – ITS_A_BADTIME_BOB

13. The Gator

“Few years ago I was camping in the Everglades in Florida with a few friends. We all had gone into our separate tents and were starting to fall asleep. The area was pretty noisy with bugs, crickets, birds, etc. I heard this very low vibration, sounding almost like a low roar. it was powerful enough to vibrate in my chest. Suddenly everything in the forest shut up. no bugs, no birds, nothing. about thirty seconds later my phone vibrates and its my friend in the other tent texting me asking if i heard the same thing. the four of us kept texting each other, wondering what it was. about ten minutes later all the animals slowly started making noise again. I slept that night with my machete at arms reach.

A lot of people are saying it might have been a gator. We were in an elevated area that was far from any streams or ponds. Its possible there might have been a pond with a gator that we missed, but the very big ones tend to hang out in lakes.” – Biggs180

#13 Creepy Camping Encounters That Will Put You off the Great Outdoors #shared stories #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits

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piesandstars · 4 years

Text

Raising Werewolf Cubs Under His Bed

Posted on Archive of Our Own here.

Riddle laughed his high laugh again.

“It was my word against Hagrid’s, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student… on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls… but I admit, even I was surprised how well the plan worked.”

Um… hey. Hey, Tom? Mr. Riddle? Dramatic ass “I am Lord Voldemort” person-sir? Do you mean human children???!!! Hey Joanne, do you mean human children cause werewolf cubs? Werewolf cubs have gotta be human children.

There are four explanations for this line that I can think of. One Doylist (explained out of text), three Watsonian (explained within canon).

The first explanation: JK Rowling did not come up with werewolf lore until after she had written the third book. That explains why she keeps writing about people being afraid of werewolves in the Forbidden Forest even when it wasn’t a full moon and shit like this. She just hadn’t come up with the facts yet.

This explanation, while probably correct, is boring as hell and we will be disregarding it.

Explanation number two barely warrants an entry. Riddle was trying to think of a magical creature and just said werewolves without considering what that would mean. This is somehow more boring than explanation one.

The third explanation is more fun. Wizards are, to put it kindly, mildly, and with some of the love in my heart, dumb as shit.

The Hogwarts education system is shaky at best. Thinking of how little math wizards know makes me want to cry. I would say something like “The class of History of Magic is so poorly taught that I doubt any of the students even know that ___” but like. The class of History of Magic is so poorly taught that I can’t come up with an obvious example of Wizarding history.

Due to the shaky Hogwarts education system, I can partially excuse Ron for being stupid in the area of “what are werewolves” when he talks about werewolves in the Forbidden Forest in book two, as of his two Defence teachers the more competent was Quirinus Quirrell.

(Lockhart’s teachings on lycanthropy involve him curing someone of it by sticking a wand down their throat and saying a spell, which… If it were that easy then Remus Lupin would have had a much better life. If he could fix his furry little problem by eating a wand, the man would have had unicorn hair and cypress soup every night for the rest of his life.)

(That being said, Ron should know more about werewolves. Molly or Arthur should have taught their kids things like that.)

Tom Riddle, in contrast to Ron, went to Hogwarts before the position was cursed. Given that he was the one who cursed it, this makes sense. Riddle had a stable education that, theoretically, involved a competent professor. He should know better.

But also, wizards are dumb as shit.

They seem to have no standardization to their education except for aiming for the OWLs and NEWTs. What educational standards has the Ministry released for teachers to follow? Probably none, that would be too competent. (Ignoring book five, ew.) Just because werewolves were covered in DADA during Harry’s time at Hogwarts doesn’t mean they were in Riddle’s. Maybe they were covered in Care of Magical Creatures, which Riddle would almost certainly not take. Or maybe they weren’t covered at all.

So maybe Tom Riddle hasn’t learned about werewolves in school. He knows about them when he’s older though, so what gives?

Here’s the thing. This Tom Riddle hasn’t had his dark magic field trip yet, the one he goes on after he graduates. What if he doesn’t know about werewolves, but he thinks he kinda gets the gist, and, being Voldemort, assumed he was correct.

Hagrid could have been raising puppies under his bed and Riddle could have been like. “Ah, yes. These are werewolf babies. I am correct on this and will not be corrected by anyone ever because I am the pinnacle of all things knowledge.”

Diary!Tom Riddle is #ForeverSixteen. He is a teenager who insists on being called “Flight of Death” (or, incidentally, Flight from Death, which, yeah). He wears eyeliner, he listens to fascist!MCR, he wants to commit genocide, you know, just regular teenage boy things. Yikes.

(Can you imagine 72-year-old Voldemort having to interact with his 16-year-old self? This insolent boy who doesn’t even know what werewolves are? Harry wouldn’t have had to destroy the Horcrux, Voldemort would do it himself to get the kid to stop talking.

Tom Riddle, age 16: “Lord Voldemort is my past, present, and future.”

Tom Riddle, age 70ish: “You’re about to be past due if you don’t shut up.”)

Anyway, that’s our third explanation. Tom Riddle is dumb as shit. This is backed up by the fact that 1) he is sixteen, 2) wizarding education is a hot garbage fire, 3) grown Voldemort is dumb as shit. He refuses to do research into things he thinks he understands in his seventies, why would he be any smarter at age sixteen?

This explanation is less boring. This is the one that I consider to be the closest to canon one. This makes sense, and it involves making fun of Voldemort’s dramatic bullshit and narcissism, which I approve of.

I like this explanation.

But explanation number three? It doesn’t hold a candle to explanation four.

See, here’s the thing. I believe that Voldemort is dumb as shit and that his education could have been pretty spotty.

But I also think that the boy that has rediscovered Horcruxes by doing too much research would not be completely ignorant of what werewolves are and how they work. They’re considered to be Dark Creatures™ so he would have come across them at some point when learning of the Dark™ Mysterious® Arts©.

So what if.

What if he wasn’t talking out of his ass?

What if Hagrid WAS raising werewolf cubs under his bed? Or, not cubs. Cubs implies non-people.

What if Hagrid was keeping werewolf children under his bed while he was attending Hogwarts?

Picture this: 11-year-old Rubeus Hagrid gets his letter for Hogwarts. He’s overjoyed. His father is a bit surprised that Hagrid, a half-giant, received his letter, but he is also overjoyed.

(The fact that Hagrid got into Hogwarts at all with wizarding prejudices as they are is honestly remarkable. We know that the Wizarding World is awful about treating those who aren’t pure-blooded wizards like people and Hagrid being a half-giant isn’t exactly subtle.)

So Hagrid goes to Hogwarts. He learns. He makes friends. He probably gets in quite a bit of trouble with teachers because he’s never been someone with a ton of common sense or tendency to follow rules. Being in trouble doesn’t bother him too much, he’s young and usually, he doesn’t think about consequences for his actions. Besides, often the reward is worth the risk.

So Hagrid finishes his first year having loved the experience. And he goes home for the summer.

Let’s say that Hagrid and his dad live on the outskirts of a relatively small Muggle town. They’re not quite in the wilderness, but they’re not quite in the town proper either.

A new family, the Canids, has moved next door since Hagrid has gone off to Hogwarts. They have two children roughly Hagrid’s age, a daughter named Freki, age 12, and a son named Geri, age 10. Given Hagrid’s friendly nature and the general boredom that comes with a long summer, the three of them quickly make friends and begin to spend quite a bit of time together.

(Forgive my mixing of Norse and Latin etymology here, I refuse to spend more than three minutes googling names that mean “wolf wolf” or “moon moon” that haven’t already been used in canon.)

Then, one day when they’re hanging out, something weird happens. What exactly it is, I’m not sure. Maybe a branch breaks while they are climbing a tree and no one gets hurt, despite how high up they are. Maybe Hagrid says something unthinkingly cruel on accident, and Geri’s feelings get hurt, and Hagrid’s hair gets turned pink. Maybe Freki finds a magical creature that Muggles aren’t supposed to be able to see. Maybe their father is off fighting in World War II (it is 1941, after all), and there is some unsetting news from the front, and one of the kids causes a sunny day to become a rainstorm.

However it happens, Hagrid figures out that he’s got two underage wizards on his hands. And he knows Freki (age 12) hasn’t received her Hogwarts letter.

Hagrid has never been one to keep his mouth shut. The man at the age of 62 let slip to a group of eleven-year-olds that 1) he had a three-headed dog, 2) the name of the dog was Fluffy, 3) Fluffy was guarding something that was owned or created by Nicholas Flamel, and 4) you can put Fluffy to sleep by playing any kind of music ever. He is not one for subtlety, or for secrets. Honestly, he might have told these kids about magic on accident even if they hadn’t shown signs of being wizards.

So he confronts the kids about the strange things that have been happening. Freki goes dead pale the second he opens his mouth. She begs him not to tell anyone in the village that there is something unnatural about them, Rubeus, please, you don’t know what people will do if they find out.

Hagrid’s confused. If they find out what exactly? Having magic is wonderful, you get to go to school and learn and make friends and discover all sorts of interesting facts and creatures and-

There are two ways this could go.

Either Freki and Geri don’t know about magic and they are delighted to hear about this wonderful place where they could be themselves, and also maybe they could get some help for this weird thing that has been happening to them since they were little kids and there was a wolf attack. Hagrid has to figure out very quickly how to deal with the fact that 1) he has to explain magic to his two friends, 2) his two friends are werewolves, 3) his two friends will not be accepted into wizard society, and 4) he also has to explain that.

Or Geri and Freki already know about magic. They didn’t know that Hagrid knew (they are in a Muggle town, after all), but they knew about magic. Maybe their mom was a witch and dad a Muggle. Maybe the other way around. Maybe both parents are wizards. Maybe they are the descendants of Squibs. Whatever their parental background, they have heard about Hogwarts. And they know the reason that neither of them had gotten Hogwarts letters, know the reason neither of them would ever get Hogwarts letters. And gently, sadly, they explain to Hagrid their situation.

And as Hagrid finds out that they’re werewolves and starts to process what that means for them and their future, Hagrid becomes indignant. And I mean Hermione-founding-misguided-but-well-meaning-organization-SPEW level indignant. I’m talking “thou shalt not insult Albus Dumbledore in front of me” level indignant. Indignant might not be the right word. He gets angry.

Remus Lupin will be the first werewolf to legally receive schooling at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But if Hagrid has something to say about it? Freki and Geri will beat the record illegally by about thirty years.

(This is a man who has been alienated his whole life for his half-giant status. He knows the feeling of being discriminated against for something he can’t change about himself.)

(This is also a man who tried to raise a dragon egg in a wooden cabin. He doesn’t necessarily think things through.)

And so begins Operation Get-My-Friends-A-Wizard-Education.

Phase One: Preliminary Education.

Hagrid spends the rest of the summer teaching these two kids everything that he can remember from his first year of school. He’s got a month. He’s got his books. He’s got enough determination to intimidate God. He’s only got the one wand, but he’ll make do.

And as late August comes? He thinks they’re ready as they’re gonna get.

Phase Two: Smuggling Time.

Now, Hagrid is an oversized lad. And one of the things that comes with being an oversized lad is oversized clothes. And one of the things that comes with oversized clothes is an oversized trunk.

Hagrid also has an undersized father with an oversized heart and an undersized sense of what is a normal and sane thing to do. (The man had sex with a giantess for Pete’s sake!)

With a little convincing, said undersized father could make said oversided trunk be even more oversized on the inside.

Geri and Freki? Welcome to the Hogwarts Express, viewed from the luxury seats of “Inside Hagrid’s Trunk.” No complimentary beverages, I’m afraid, and the view’s not great, but all the oversized clothes end up being quite comfortable cushions.

So Hagrid smuggles two kid werewolves into Hogwarts.

Phase Three: Ah, Shit, Didn’t Think This Through… Er… Live Under My Bed I’ll Bring You Homework

So they live under his bed while he teaches them everything that he is learning in all of his classes, sometimes in the dorm room when no one else is there, sometimes in the Forbidden Forest when they can sneak out, sometimes in empty rooms around the castle. They spend each full moon as deep into the forest as they can go, hoping against hope that they won’t hurt anyone and they will be safe.

(In this universe, the rumors of werewolves in the forest came from somewhere. The stories of glimpses of wolves through the trees during this time were passed down through the generations. “My aunt’s cousin’s friend’s dad saw a werewolf in the forest” may not be the most credible of sources, but in this case, it holds a grain of truth.)

They are careful, and, for a while, they don’t get caught.

How long are they at Hogwarts? I don’t know. A while, certainly. A month? A semester? A full year? Maybe they make it through to when the Chamber of Secrets was opened and everyone became more suspicious and more alert before they were found out.

Once they are caught, the Canid children are promptly sent home. After all, you can’t have monsters in a school like Hogwarts, and what are werewolves if not monsters.

The staff lets Hagrid off with a warning, thinking maybe this was a one-off occurrence of idiocy. But they do view Hagrid with more suspicion after that. After all, he brought monsters into the school. Who’s to say what he’ll let in next?

That being said, Tom Riddle’s probably just dumb as shit.

Posted on Archive of Our Own here.

#harry potter #hp #hagrid #fanfiction #kat talks #look ma i over analyzed #my fic

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owlways-and-forever · 4 years

Photo

Throughout our lives, we all say so many words that we don’t mean. Thank you, it’s beautiful. I hate you. I don’t love you, I never did. But what about the things we never say?

There are three words that form a lie more than any other. A lie when they are said, and the greatest lie of omission on earth. They are the lie that will damn your soul and condemn you to an eternity of regret.

I love you.

o . o . o

Padma flitted her quill over the parchment, turning the ink into a beautiful sketch. It took form as she went, gradually taking on the appearance of a spectacular bird. The mangerie was probably what she missed most about Nagpur. The animals they kept were truly beautiful, and Padma had loved to sit in front of the enclosures and sketch the animals while she communed with them. They didn’t have a byangoma in the menagerie, and Padma had never actually seen one of the famously rare birds. Parvati claimed she had seen one once on a vacation with their aunt to Uttar Pradesh, but Padma wasn’t so sure about that. Of all the animals she knew about, Padma most longed to see a byangoma. They were supposed to be incredibly beautiful, and if one dropped a feather on you, it was said that you would be granted a glimpse of your future and a droplet of wisdom. Though the birds are typically sightless, a few drops of blood from a witch or wizard could grant them sight and create an everlasting bond between the two.

“What’s that?” Anthony asked, startling Padma as he leaned over her shoulder to look at the drawing she was sketching across her parchment.

“It’s nothing really,” she answered quickly. She didn’t try to hide her sketch, but she didn’t typically allow anyone but Parvati to see her designs. Still, Anthony slid around her and claimed the seat next to her, continuing to gaze at her drawing as if it were completely enchanting.

“That’s so pretty,” he breathed, his eyes flitting up to meet hers briefly before returning to the drawing. “What is it? It kind of looks like a phoenix but…”

“Airy?” Padma finished, and Anthony nodded. “Byangoma are the elementals for air like phoenixes are for fire. They’re my favourite animal, but I’ve never seen them. I probably never will now.”

“Why not?”

“They haven’t been seen outside the Indian subcontinent in decades,” Padma explained.

“And you don’t think you’ll ever go back there?” Anthony asked, one eyebrow raised doubtfully.

“Probably not,” Padma shrugged. “My family is here now. What’s there to go back for?”

“Do you miss it there?”

He looked at her with such depth of feeling, far more than any fourteen year old had any right to. Padma felt both uneasy and utterly at home under his gaze.

“Quite a lot, but that doesn’t mean I should go back,” she replied. “I miss sugar, but that doesn't mean I should eat it for every meal.”

Anthony smiled at her analogy, crinkling his hazel eyes.

“Well maybe there’s a way to help you miss home a little less,” he suggested.

“Maybe.”

o . o . o

Anthony practically skipped through the halls, eager to find his best friend. He had some news he was simply dying to share with her.

“Padma!” he called out as he spotted her shiny black plait, and he broke into a jog to reach her.

“Hey,” she greeted, smiling as he caught up. “What’s going on?”

“I just got a letter from my parents,” he panted, grinning from ear to ear. “We’re going on vacation to the foothills of the Himalayas this summer.”

“That’s lovely,” Padma replied, a slight pang of jealousy twisting her stomach.

“They said I could bring a friend!” Anthony continued, practically jumping with excitement.

“That’s very kind of them, it’ll be so much fun for you,” she answered, again feeling a surge of bitterness that she couldn’t help.

Anthony’s expression soured slightly, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Padma? Do you not want to go with me?” he asked, his voice taking on a sudden uncertainty that hadn’t been there moments before.

“Do you really want me to go with you?” she replied. Padma was sure that he was simply being polite. He would probably much rather go with Michael or Terry.

“Of course I do!” he insisted, reaching out and grabbing both her hands. He couldn’t imagine why she would ever doubt it. “You’re my best friend!”

He refrained from saying any more, the way he always did. Somehow Anthony could never find the right words to really convey how much he cared about Padma. It was pointless anyway, he knew she didn’t feel the same way about him.

“I… I would love to,” Padma answered, although her expression was still sad. “But I don’t think my parents would like it. Especially if Parvati couldn’t come too.”

“Why don’t you at least ask them? It can’t hurt, can it?” Anthony pleaded. There really wasn’t anyone else he wanted to bring on the trip. It hadn’t even really been his parents’ idea, he had asked them if Padma could come.

“I’ll ask, but don’t get your hopes up,” she said with a wry smile. Padma was always the pragmatist.

o . o . o

She didn’t feel good about it at all, but Padma really didn’t want to upset anyone, least of all Anthony. And he’d be so hurt if he knew the truth. She hated it even more because she wanted to go with him so badly . But if she told Anthony how much she wanted to go on the trip with him, he’d be furious that her parents wouldn’t let her. He’d probably try something dumb and gallant and show up at her family’s house to introduce himself and win her parents’ over. And then he would find out the truth, that she never even wrote and asked them.

But Padma knew exactly what her parents would say. It would start with a polite declination, saying that it would be unfair to allow Padma to go when Parvati wasn’t even invited. If Padma pushed the issue, then the real reasons would come out. The problem wasn’t that her sister wasn’t invited, it was that Anthony was a boy . Her parents would assume that they were dating - probably assume that he had dishonourable intentions for the trip - and they would never approve of her dating him. Not just him, anyone. If they knew the things Parvati got up to at school… not that Padma would ever tell on her sister.

She didn’t want to start a fight with her parents, or stir up any mistrust. They’d always had a good relationship, and Padma wanted to keep it that way. Asking if she could go on the trip with Anthony was just a recipe for disaster. So she didn’t. She pretended to write home, and then she would pretend to get a letter back, but really it would be Parvati the whole time. Her sister had agreed to help her no questions asked. Well, not exactly no questions. But as Padma walked down to breakfast on the agreed upon morning, she felt dread tugging at her stomach. She hated doing this to Anthony, and she hated it for herself.

“Everything okay, Padma?” Anthony asked, sliding into the seat next to her with a concerned expression on his face.

Padma painted a dismayed expression on her face, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment. She tossed it onto the table in front of him, watching his eyes follow the little ball.

“Go on, read it, it’s okay,” she said, encouraging him while keeping her expression downcast.

Anthony reached out and took the letter, unfolding it carefully. His eyes scanned left and right, drinking in every word. Padma knew what it said by heart.

Padma chutki,

Your father and I have discussed the matter at length, and agreed that we cannot allow you to go on this trip. It wouldn’t be right to send you so far away without your sister. We simply are not comfortable letting you go on this trip unsupervised at your age. I am sorry Padma. We are happy to see you in a few weeks.

Love,

Amma

Anthony eyed the letter with disappointment, and Padma thought even a bit of suspicion. His thumb ran over the edge of the parchment idly as he thought it over.

“They really won’t let you come?” he asked, his face impossibly sad.

Padma shook her head, conjuring up tears at the idea of being forced to stay behind. Anthony took one look at her despair and his expression softened as he reached out to touch her hand.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered consolingly. “Maybe next time you can come. After graduation, we’ll do a big trip together, okay? You’ll be an adult then, your parents won’t be able to stop you from going if it’s what you want.”

Padma didn’t have the heart to tell Anthony that her parents would always be able to stop her, no matter how old she was. It’s just the way their family worked. She nodded her head in a grim confirmation.

“Okay, I’m gonna go, I want to meet with McGonagall before class starts,” Anthony said, giving Padma a quick side hug. Then he was off, shoveling down a piece of toast as he rushed out of the Great Hall.

Padma breathed a sigh of relief. Once more, she had successfully avoided dealing with any feelings she might or might not have for Anthony.

o . o . o

Anthony trudged through the lush forest, sunlight glowing through the trees overhead. He could hear all kinds of fauna echoing in the canopy. He wasn’t supposed to be off on his own, but his sister was annoying him and their parents always took Leah’s side.

He heard a magical sounding caw echo high above him, something entirely ethereal. It floated on the air, drifting down to him slowly like a feather in the wind, back and forth, back and forth. Anthony looked around him, searching for the source of the beautiful song, scouring the branches for some clue. At first, nothing seemed even remotely out of place, but then he saw it - a shimmer of royal blue and deep teal. He knew instantly what it was, he’d seen them sketched on Padma’s notebook enough times.

Anthony felt a pang of sadness grip him. This was Padma’s dream, she’d wanted it for so long. She wasn’t someone who talked about her desires often, but this was one she couldn’t resist giving voice to. And even still, Anthony knew that she wanted it more than she would ever say. He nearly wished that he was wrong so he wouldn’t have to tell Padma that she’d missed it.

The beautiful bird fluttered down to land on a low hanging branch in front of him, which dipped and swayed under its weight. The byangoma was stunning, almost celestial in nature. Anthony could feel an awareness emanating from it, and he knew that every story he’d heard about the intellect and sight of byangomas was an underestimation.

“Hi,” he whispered, taking a careful step forward.

The byangoma cocked its head to one side, evaluating Anthony, and he could tell that it was reading him and deciding whether he was trustworthy. As if by instinct, Anthony knew that he ought to ask the bird a question, but his mind was alarmingly blank.

Worry not, the bird seemed to say to him, a melodic voice echoing in his mind. I know the question in your heart.

It flapped its wings and took flight, circling Anthony closely and dippings its wings so that its feathers brushed against his face and neck. The world around him faded away sharply, a hazy vision surrounding him instead.

He sat at a wooden table in a brightly lit kitchen, Padma sitting across from him. She was laughing, and he knew it was something he said - a story or a joke - that was making her eyes crinkle happily. The scene shifted. Padma stood next to him, her wand out, tension written across every feature. Sparks and streaks of light were illuminating the night sky, and Anthony could see a shadowy army approaching. He could feel terror tearing the air around the castle to pieces and the fall of rubble made the ground quake. Another shift. He stood on the banks of the Black Lake, with Padma in front of him. She was wearing a yellow sundress, so different from her usual school uniform, but he didn’t think she’d ever looked prettier. She was smiling shyly at him, and she kept rocking forward on her toes, like maybe she wanted to reach out to him. Anthony wanted to wrap his arms around her and hug her close, maybe even kiss her.

The vision disappeared and reality returned as Anthony blinked his eyes. He felt the byangoma’s feathers brush against his face once more, and saw it begin to fly away. One of its feathers shed from the bird and drifted through the air, landing in Anthony’s outstretched fingers.

Tell her, the byangoma’s voice echoed through his own mind.

“Tell her what?” Anthony called out as the byangoma began to fly away, his fingers curling around the heavenly soft feather.

Tell her.

o . o . o

Anthony was practically vibrating with excitement as he stood on Platform 9 ¾. He’d enjoyed his trip to India immensely, but it had still been a very long summer, and he couldn’t wait to be back at Hogwarts with all his friends. Especially Padma. He’d missed her a lot, more than he had expected to. And Anthony had been thinking a lot about his revelation on his trip. The byangoma had seemed insistent that his future was with Padma, but he was sixteen, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to think of any kind of future that involved another person. Love was simply not something that was in his equation.

And yet… the more he thought about it, the more he started to think that maybe there were feelings there after all. Maybe he did love Padma. The problem was that he just wasn’t sure. Normally, he would talk to Padma to sort out any confused feelings he might be having, but he couldn’t bring her into this if he wasn’t sure. He just wished there was some way to know, some mathematical equation that could tell him the right answer.

“Everything alright?” Padma asked, appearing next to Anthony so suddenly that he jumped in surprise. “You look very concerned about something.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, smiling lightly. His whole heart had eased just looking at her. “I was just thinking about love.”

“That’s quite a serious topic,” she teased, a smile electrifying her face. “What brought that on?”

“Oh, you know,” Anthony answered vaguely, waving his hand, “just getting older. Our friends are starting to date more, and I was just thinking, you know, how do they know?”

“I don’t think they do,” Padma replied, more seriously. “Isn’t that the point of dating? You think maybe you like someone, and then you spend more time with them to find out.”

“But it’s different, isn’t it?” he countered. “It’s not the same as just being friends with someone. It’s gotta be more than that..”

“Sure,” she agreed. “But it’s also a leap of faith.”

Anthony nodded, his gaze drifting along the platform. The train was starting to bustle as students climbed aboard, hauling their trunks with them. The windows were becoming crowded with kids whose noses were pressed to the glass as they waved goodbye to their families.

“Come on, don’t want to miss the train,” Padma joked, tugging the sleeve of Anthony’s shirt to draw his attention.

“Right,” he agreed, shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts. “Let’s go.”

They surged forward with the other students, climbing onto the train. Anthony boarded first, turning around to offer Padma a hand. He knew she didn’t need the boost, but he liked doing little things like that for her. It showed he cared. And he did care about her, probably more than anyone else in his life. He just wasn’t sure that it was romantic .

“Okay, come on Anthony, you’ve got to tell me everything about your trip!” Padma intoned as soon as they were in an empty compartment. Michael and Terry would probably join them eventually, but for the moment they were on their own.

“It was amazing,” he answered, his face lighting up with excitement. “We saw so many different things, and the history is fascinating. I had no idea there were so many incredible witches and wizards from India, and, if I’m honest, I feel a little bit bad about it. It made me wonder how many accomplished wizards are looked over in our lessons just because they’re not British, or European. Am I looking over them too?”

Padma smiled kindly, fully understanding what he was saying. “Not intentionally,” she reassured him.

“I’m not sure that’s better,” he said, frowning.

“But you know now, and I know you, you’ll make a conscious effort to do better,” Padma replied, reaching out and patting his hand.

“There was something else, something incredible,” Anthony said, changing the subject slightly.

Padma quirked an eyebrow, eager to hear more. But instead of speaking, Anthony reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, carefully pulling out the feather. Padma’s mouth dropped open in amazement as she looked at it, and instinctively she reached out to touch. Anthony thought he saw a flicker of disappointment cloud her face as her skin brushed across the feather and no magic happened.

“You saw one?” she breathed, her eyes wide.

“Yeah, I did, and Padma it was amazing ,” he whispered, excited to share the experience with her. “It was so beautiful, I mean beyond words, and you could just feel how smart it was. Except it wasn’t just intelligent, it was this feeling of wisdom and foresight and just endless knowledge.”

“Did it show you something?” she asked curiously.

“Yeah, it did, it showed me…” Anthony stuttered, not sure how much to tell her. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he couldn’t tell her the truth either. No matter the byangoma’s advice, he just wasn’t ready for that, so he settled for a half truth. “It showed me war. It’s coming, Padma, and it’ll be worse than last time.”

“Well, I think everyone who isn’t in denial knows that,” Padma replied, her forehead wrinkling. “It didn’t show you anything personal though? By all accounts, it’s not like them to reveal something so broad in scale.”

“Well, it showed me fighting and…” he stopped again, his heart constricting painfully at the memory of that particular scene.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me,” Padma assured him.

Anthony nodded, grateful for her understanding. He swallowed the fear that had risen within him and smiled. He wiggled the feather against her fingertips, laughing at the grin that broke out over her face.

“It’s yours,” he said, glancing down at the feather. “I want you to have it.”

“You…?” she breathed, blown away by the gesture. “I can’t take that, Anthony, it’s yours.”

“I know, but it means more to you,” Anthony replied. “And I feel bad that you weren’t there to see it yourself. It’s the least I could do.”

“You don’t have -”

“Please, just keep it,” he grinned. “Use it to inspire some more beautiful sketches.”

Padma smiled shyly, uncertain how to accept this gift. It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever given to her, and it felt strangely intimate. Especially given the way he was looking at her, like he was seeing something new in her. She wondered if this would change things between them, and the thought that it might made her nervous, but it wasn’t entirely bad. There was something different with Anthony that she didn’t quite understand, but she knew that it wouldn’t go away. He would always be special to her.

o . o . o

Padma ducked under the red streak of light, taking a few steps back. She didn’t know who the Death Eater under the mask was, but they were a good dueler. With every spell they were forcing her further back, leaving open a strategically placed window overlooking Hogwarts’ grounds and the battle that was unfolding below. Padma knew the window was their target. Well, the window and her demise. It was an obvious strategic move - the higher ground provided the opportunity to help out those below and potentially turn the tide of the battle. Padma had been using that very advantage only ten minutes earlier, before the Death Eater had shown up.

“Bombarda!” Padma fired back, her spell deflecting off the Death Eater’s protective shield, rocketing into the wall instead. Chunks of stone pelted them, but neither paid any attention to it.

Concentration was key in this.

Padma cast three spells in quick succession - expelliarmus, reducto, bombarda again - hoping that a frenzied offense would be to her advantage. If the Death Eater was too busy trying to ward off her spells, he couldn’t attack. At least, that was the plan.

It did not quite unfold that way.

The problem with fighting adults was that they simply knew spells that Padma hadn’t learnt yet. With a complicated wriggle of his wrist, the Death Eater had managed to conjure up a silvery shield that hung in the air while he sent other curses flying toward her. His aim was off, having to duck around his shield, but she still felt the sting of one of his curses as it brushed her arm.

Padma gritted her teeth and brandished her wand again, ready for another attack. She deflected a few more spells from him, and let loose some of her own, but neither seemed to make much progress. It was a stalemate, and one that she would be stupid to think would end in her favour. The longer this went on, the more she tired, and she was just a student. She wasn’t used to duelling extensively like Death Eaters and members of the Order.

The Death Eater made a slashing movement and she braced herself for a fatal blow, but it wasn’t directed at Padma - rather, someone standing behind her. She turned quickly to look, casting a protective shield as she did, and her jaw dropped. Anthony stood about ten paces back, his palm flat against his stomach as swirls of red blood bloomed across his shirt. His eyes were wide and for a moment he looked childlike again, like when she had first met him, so youthful. But his vitality was fading before her eyes, the life flickering away. Anthony’s knees wobbled and gave way, hitting the ground hard.

A surge of anger took hold of Padma and she turned her attention back to the Death Eater. She howled with rage as she thrust her arms forward as if she could push the vile person away from her. Blue waves pulsated from her hands, seizing the Death Eater in their grip and hurling him backward. He landed on the floor with a fatal crack as his head hit the stone. Padma didn’t spare the Death Eater a second thought, turning immediately to Anthony, rushing toward him just in time to catch him before he hit the ground.

“What are you doing?” she asked, anxiety turning her voice into something bizarrely high pitched. “You’re not supposed to be here! You were supposed to be with Neville!”

“Ron said…” Anthony struggled to get his words out. “Ron said… you were in trouble.”

His eyelids fluttered, and Padma wiggled a little so she could lay his head on her thigh. Her hands tugged his shirt away, finding the gash that split his skin in two.

“I’m fine,” Anthony, she soothed, waving her wand over the cut. She didn’t know much healing magic, and she cursed herself for that now, as her spells failed to make any kind of difference.

Anthony’s breathing grew more shallow as his life continued to seep from the gaping wound, pooling red and sticky around them. Padma wanted to brush her fingers through his hair and caress his face, but she didn’t want to smear blood across his skin. He didn’t need to die like that, with shadows of his own blood across his cheeks, feeling that stickiness on his face. He was going to die. He was going to die because he was hurt and she didn’t know how to heal him. Padma tried to suppress the hiccoughing sobs that wanted to rise forth. She would never forgive herself for this - how could she?

“Padma,” he whispered, his eyes fixing on her with a look that was so deep she felt like she would drown in it. “I’m scared…”

“It’s alright,” she answered, finding his hand and lacing their fingers together. “It’s alright. You’re not alone. I’m here.”

He whispered something as his eyes closed, too quiet for her to hear. Three words that might have changed everything if they’d been said sooner. She didn’t know what he said with that last breath, but honestly, what did it matter? Because the words that she needed him to hear were still stuck in her throat. She had been too much of a coward to say them for so long, and now the words died with him, and regret took their place.

He would never know. Maybe he had hoped, maybe even optimistically believed it might be true. But Anthony had never known for sure, and now he never would.

o . o . o

Padma ran her fingers over the shimmering blue feather, feeling the softness with every nerve like an electric current. It was her most prized possession, and she hated the idea of being parted with it, but somehow she knew that it belonged with Anthony. He had given it to her, and she couldn’t think of anything more meaningful than laying it to rest with him. She looked down at his face, still and serene, but somehow twisted. She thought that anyone who ever claimed that the dead looked like they were sleeping was a liar. The body in the coffin before her looked nothing like a sleeping Anthony, it looked like a wax figure, and a poor one at that. It might have all the physical features, but it couldn’t come close to capturing Anthony’s spirit, or the way his smile made her heart leap in her chest. All of that was gone, and it wasn’t coming back. Not for all the byangoma feathers in the world.

Twirling the feather lightly by its stem, Padma felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and she wished they would go away. She didn’t want to cry, not when these were the last moments she would ever get to spend by his side. It was hard to come to terms with the reality that the whole future she had imagined would never happen now. Not only would it never happen, but Anthony would never know that she wanted it. A life with him. Because no matter how much it had scared her, Padma had never been able to imagine any partner but Anthony.

Padma bowed her head and began to recite a hymn from the Rig Veda, placing the palms of her hands together.

“Yam se milen, pitaron se milen, shreshth svarg mein, mukt ya aadeshit krtyon ke gun se milen*,” she began solemnly. “Leave sin and evil, seek anew thy dwelling, and bright with glory wear another body. Go hence, depart, fly in all directions: this place for him the Fathers have provided. Yama bestows on him a place to rest in adorned with days and beams of light and waters.”

“That’s a beautiful prayer.”

Padma turned around quickly, still feeling jumpy after the battle and the months of war that had preceded it. But it was only Anthony’s mother, looking like her heart had been ripped from her. She looked so much like him, with dark curls and hazel eyes. She was petite, much shorter than Padma, but beautiful.

“Thank you, Mrs. Goldstein,” Padma replied, inclining her head toward the matriarch. “I’m sorry about Anthony. I’m going to miss him very much.”

“Please call me Rachel. You’re Padma, aren’t you?” she asked.

Padma nodded, fidgeting a little and making the bangles on her wrist jingle softly. Rachel smiled gently at her, reaching out to grasp her hand.

“Anthony cared about you a great deal,” Rachel assured her, her voice choking up a bit as she wiped away a stray tear with her free hand. “Seth and I would love to have you over to our house for dinner any time you’d like. Perhaps in a month or two. You could share stories of Anthony at school.”

“I’d like that very much,” Padma replied, squeezing his mother’s hand in return.

Rachel squeezed Padma’s hand once more, and pulled away, turning to her family. Looking around, Padma realized that Anthony’s family were the only ones still in attendance, and she immediately felt self conscious. As difficult as it was, the time had come for her to say her final goodbye.

Padma looked at Anthony’s face once more, thinking of the things she’d never told him, and she felt sadness engulf her in one of the waves that had been sweeping over frequently since the battle.

“Goodbye,” she whispered, turning away from the casket. Padma knew it was only a farewell in the physical sense - she would carry this love with her always.

#hp #hp ff #hp fic #anthony goldstein #padma patil #gen writes

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drowning-in-neon · 3 years

Note

can I ask the whole cryptid sheet 4 u like I actually want u to answer them all 👉👈

cryptid asks

you are so wonderful, thank you so much, you can always ask the entire ask sheets lkfjaljhgajg

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

QUESTIONS:

Cryptid: What kind of otherworldly/cryptid/folk lore being do you identify with the most and why? ---- probably a ghost? maybe specifically a poltergeist. ghost because i often just feel... unseen. i feel like i can’t really engage with people,, and that they don’t engage with me, and that i just sort of float around unnoticed as a general whole - except for when i’m particularly “goofy” or “out there” and putting on a show, which is where the poltergeist thing comes in. i feel like poltergeists just... you know. they want attention but nobody notices them unless t hey make a ruckus. that sort of thing, you know? i feel like i have to be at maximum, The Most, all the time just to be noticed or loved and it... sucks. wow this got deep um. next question.

Rock: Things you collect? ---- all sorts of things; gemstones, plushies, Beetlejuice stuff, music, notebooks/journals, hoodies, books...

Neon Lights: What's your aesthetic? ---- it changes all the time, i’m kind of a chameleon. punk/grunge are a pretty constant part of my style though i feel like. idk, you’ve always described my aesthetic so much better than i can, @cartoonsun

Crystal: What color palette do you think descibes your personality the most? ---- dark colours, earthy colours, neutral tones... idk. dark green, black, grey, white, brown, dark blue, dark red.

Forest: What's your favorite place to explore? -- anywhere and everywhere. i want friends to explore urban areas with so we can do photoshoots and stuff lately, since i’ve explored lots of forests but not so many cities.

Spirit: Do you believe in magic? ---- I do!

Stars: What's your Zodiac Sign? ---- Leo Sun, Taurus Moon, and Scorpio Rising. The Scorpio side is really the only one I relate to usually; I’d love to see what Leo traits people think I have though.

Eyes: Describe your appearance! ---- i often tell people i look like a drunk hobo most of the time so... that

Blood: What's your biggest fear? ---- saying goodbye. loss. never being worth anything. never being loved. but i’m also scared of the dark and of super deep water so

Ghost: Have you ever had a paranormal experience? ---- not that i’m certain of; weird things have happened around me before but i never was sure if they were paranormal or not.

UFO: What places are on your travel list? ---- anywhere but here. some on the top of my list though are los angeles, ireland, scotland, wales, england, australia, and denmark.

Grave: What do you think happens after we die? ---- i don’t know. and that’s terrifying to me. because i want to know that this isn’t all there is. i want there to be something else.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

scenarios:

Neighbour: If you would live in an eerie town in the middle of nowhere, one of those where everybody knows something is wrong, but nobody talks about it, what would your role be? ---- i think i’d probably play the role of the outsider. you know, the quiet punk.gay kid in high school that everyone mocks or stays away from because of all the rumours, or the member of the town that everybody thinks is the bad guy because of rumours and a general predeliction to stay away from others. you know, the character who ends up as a red herring cause everyone is sure he’s up to no good but it turns out he was innocent, but it’s too late because nobody believed him and now he’s dead.

Street Light: You run through the dark and you think something is chasing you. In the distance you discover one single street light. Do you run towards it, knowing you will be able to see better but also you will be spotted much easier? Or stay in the dark? ---- I would probably run toward the light; not just because my instincts would tell me to, but because if I’m sure I’m already being chased, then clearly the creature didn’t need light to find me. So light will either help or simply not change anything.

Haunted House: You hear scratching noises from the attic, too loud to be caused by a squirrel or a raccoon. At the same time you hear a knocking at the basement door, but you know that everybody else is in the kitchen. Which one do you investigate? ---- okay, so everybody else is in the kitchen, which insinuates that we’re all awake and it’s not necessarily nighttime. which is good because my room is directly beneath the attic, but despite that, i’d still probably just hope it was nothing and sit frozen in fear. BUT since my family is presumably awake, i will unabashedly go and tell my parents about... probably the knocking at the basement door first, since it could possibly be someone they invited over or what-not. or that’s what i’d hope they would tell me. on my own... outside of freezing in place, i would probably check the basement first too because the attic isn’t accessible without a really tall stepladder anyway, which i don ‘t have.

Corn Fields: It's 2 am and you've been driving for hours. Suddenly your car slows to a halt. The gas tank is empty. In the distance you can see faint lights. Shouldn't there be only fields and abandoned barns for the next 10 miles? Do you try your luck and get out in the dark to seek help or wait in your car until the sun rises? ---- this is tough. i’d probably panic and call AAA tbh, but i’m assuming AAA isn’t an option here. in that case, i’d probably wait for sunrise and just hide in my car. especially if i know th ere shouldn’t be civilisation for another ten miles, who knows what those lights are

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

choose:

Fae: wings or fins? ---- wings, 110%.

Conspiracy: aliens or cryptids? ---- both but i have to say cryptids on this one.

Road Sign: city or country side? ---- is there an inbetween option? if not, countryside.

Foot Print: Mothman or Big Foot? ---- i can’t choose. mothman is my boy but bigfoot is seen the most in my state. i love them both i’m sorry

Deer: antlers or fangs? ---- BOTH. but if forced to choose, i’d go with antlers.

Adventure: haunted houses or cemeteries? ---- hmmm. i’m not sure. it depends on a lot of things, but based solely on aesthetics, cemeteries.

Moon: early bird or night owl? ---- night owl lmao

#asked and answered #about me #journal #vin #thank you so much for this; it's a rough and terrible night and this was a nice distraction

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the-star-the-idiot · 4 years

Text

Marbles

It was a hot summer day, when a particular man found himself driving down a quiet country road. He was on his way to a town far away to visit some family members. It had been ages since he met with them and he was thrilled to get to see them again. He thought about how big his niece and two nephews must have grown in the time he’d been gone. While driving, he listened to his favourite cassette tape, featuring multiple songs excellent for road trip entertainment.

The cassette was old and would glitch out every now and then, skipping and distorting audio, but it didn’t happen often enough to bother the man, so he had never seriously considered fixing or replacing it. Instead, he found a certain charm to his old, extensively used cassette.

Lately, the summer heat had been unbearable, and this day boasted a heatwave among heatwaves. Even with his window rolled down, driving at high speeds, he could feel his dress shirt stick to his skin and caught himself breathing as though he weighed tens of kilos more than he truly did. He was not an old man, nor a heavy man, but he was quite sensitive to the scorching sun.

“I need to find a place to stop,” he thought to himself. He feared he was close to passing out from heatstroke, and his water bottles had been running dry for the past couple hours, not to mention they had gotten warm long before he had finished drinking them, so he had not particularly enjoyed his moments of rehydration.

As if an act of mercy from above, he passed by a Bed & Breakfast sign. The next turn would lead him somewhere he could get some rest, water and food. The man was eager for the opportunity to freshen up with a shower and a change of clothes. He cursed himself for sporting a suit during one of the country’s worst heatwaves in modern history. Barely a kilometre after the sign, he found another, identical to the first, accompanied by the awaited turn off the main road. After a while of driving through a somewhat dense forest on a thin gravel road, he found the place he had been looking for.

Yet another sign, identical to the other two, stood before the yard of a humble, well-kept, red, wooden house. The man quickly found a place to park his car, next to another car which he could only assume belonged to the owner of the house. Upon exiting the car, he was met with the sight of a young girl past the corner of the house, in the backyard. She seemed to be playing, dancing while observing something he couldn’t see, too far past the corner. “Can I help you, Sir?” a woman’s voice was heard asking. The man quickly fell back down to reality and turned towards the person talking to him. There stood a beautiful woman who looked to be in her early 30’s, sporting a dark red sweater and khaki jeans. Her long, straight hair glowed red in the sunlight. He cleared his throat and enquired about a room for him to stay the night. “Why yes, there’s plenty of room,” she said and smiled sweetly at the man. “We currently don’t have any guests, so you’ll be free to choose whichever room you’d like.” The woman continued, explaining that there were three rooms available, two of identical size and price, and one larger, albeit more expensive room. The man was surprised as to how deceptively spacey the house was, given its rather small façade. Nevertheless, he chose the larger room; he enjoyed having a lot of space, especially regarding the bed. Having chosen the large room, he would be finding himself in a comfortable double bed. “Well, come on in and scope your room out,” said the woman. “I’ll be happy to help with any luggage you’d like to bring inside.”

Inside, the man found himself in a tidy, clean house. The floor looked newly-waxed and all the wooden furniture boasted a neat, white colour. “You’ve got quite the impressive home, Miss,” the man said. “Why, thank you!” the woman replied and laughed lightly, in an almost embarrassed manner. “I don’t have much to do when there aren’t any guests over, so I often find myself trying to keep everything in check.”

Once the two were done moving some of the man’s luggage to his room, the woman invited him down to the kitchen for coffee. The kitchen smelled as though he had walked into a rustic, Italian restaurant, and he saw two large pots on the stovetop, one with a lid on top and the other without, letting a gentle steam rise from it. The two sat down at each end of the kitchen table once the man had received his cup of coffee. “So what brings you past this area?” she asked, gently stirring her cup, to which she had added a sugar cube and a little milk. “I’m on my way to meet some relatives,” he responded, needlessly stirring his cup as well, to which he had added nothing. He enjoyed his coffee black. “I haven’t seen them in quite some time, seeing as I live pretty far away, and I’ve never been particularly good at staying in touch.” The two talked briefly about family and the importance of talking to even the more distant relatives every now and then. “So you’re going alone?” the woman asked after a short while. “You’re not bringing anyone with you? Your wife?” The man cleared his throat and smiled awkwardly. “I’m pretty much all I’ve got back where I live,” he said. “Practically all my family lives where I’m headed and uh, I’ve never been particularly lucky in my romantic endeavours. A couple girlfriends here and there, but nothing too serious. Never married.” “What a shame,” she responded, smiling sweetly at him once again. “I’d imagine a handsome man like yourself would have been quick to get tied down by some lucky girl. Either something’s wrong with you, or something’s wrong with the girls you’re seeing,” she continued and laughed, to which the man responded with a hearty laugh. “So, how about yourself?” the man asked. “I assume the girl in the back is your daughter, so surely…” “Legally, yes, not biologically,” she said. “I adopted her from a close friend of mine who grew too sick to take care of her. It would be nice to find a man to alleviate the situation of raising a child, but…” she stopped to smile once more at the man. “I suppose whatever’s plaguing your endeavours are plaguing mine as well.” “C’est la vie,” he said slowly, gently sipping his still warm coffee, trying not to burn his mouth.

A moment of silence coated the kitchen, an awkward tone. The man didn’t quite know how to continue the conversation, but to their rescue came the little girl from the backyard. “Mommy!” she said excitedly. She looked to be around the age of six or seven. Her hair was a bright blonde and her eyes were the strongest shade of green the man had ever seen. She wore a white summer dress and looked as happy as any child would on a summer day. “Hi, sweetie!” the woman said in an equally excited voice. “Did you have fun outside?” “Uh huh! I played with the marbles again!” the little girl responded. The woman smiled sincerely at her before quickly realising she still had a guest at the other side of the table. “Oh, right,” she said and laughed. “As you can see, pumpkin, we have a guest over. Would you like to greet Mister, um–” she stopped herself, realising she had forgotten to ask the man his name. “Florence,” the man butted in. “You can call me Mister Florence. Pleased to meet you, little lady.” “Hi, Mister Florence!” the little girl said, just as excited as when she came in. She certainly didn’t seem shy around new faces. “My name is Eden, and mum’s name is Scarlett!” The three of them shared the pleasantries of a proper greeting, and shortly after that the little girl scurried away to wash up and change clothes before supper. Scarlett had been preparing Pasta Bolognese, which would soon be ready.

“It’s a simple, not very presentational meal,” Scarlett said once all three were sitting by the table, acting as though the food she’d made was nothing impressive. “But I hope it tastes good all the same,” she continued. Eden didn’t skip a beat and immediately began eating. She looked as though she enjoyed it very much. Her mum smiled at her, eating from her own plate quite slowly. The man took a bite and was met with a plethora of flavours dancing in perfect harmony in his mouth. A hint of garlic, a mild acidity from the tomatoes, and a prominent taste of fresh herbs, not to mention a perfect balance of salt and lemon pepper. “Wow,” he uttered after swallowing his first bite. The woman waited patiently and with eager curiosity for him to continue. “This might be the best Pasta Bolognese I’ve ever had,” he then said, to which Scarlett replied by smiling proudly. “I’m glad you like it, Mister Florence,” she responded. They all ate mostly in silence, as they were too busy enjoying the food to make proper conversation. As much as the man relished the food, however, he couldn’t help but enjoy the ice-cold water he drank beside it even more. He had almost forgotten how dehydrated he had felt ever since arriving. Each sip came with a pleasant, refreshing rush throughout his body.

After the meal, the sun seemed to have evaded them. Florence took notice to how dark it could get despite it being summer and made an off-hand comment about it. Scarlett explained to him that even though the forest around them wasn’t particularly dense, it was just enough to block out the sun once it lay low enough. It was particularly dark indoors, in the rooms where the lights weren’t on. Scarlett and her daughter seemed like they were fans of preserving electricity. “Well, I suppose it’s best this way, I am quite tired after the long drive,” Florence said. “Would it be alright to use the bathroom to freshen up before I go to bed?” he then asked. “Yes, of course, you’re more than welcome to,” Scarlett responded. She showed him where the bathroom was, and requested he’d turn the shower off while soaping up. It was a rather spacious bathroom, and the shower had plenty of elbow room. There was no bathtub. Once again, the man thought about how deceptively large this house seemed to be. Having been given a towel, he locked the door and went about his business, relieving himself before stepping into the shower. The water was cold and pleasant, though slightly shocking, like taking the first step into the fresh water of a river. He let out a heavy sigh of relief and went about his shower routine, turning off the water in between to soap up per Scarlett’s request.

Once finished, he stepped out and began drying himself. He felt extremely tired, and this feeling seemed to grow heavier by the second. He took his time drying up, unable to go any faster. The whole house was quiet, save for the occasional creaking of floorboards. All the man could hear were the soft sounds of the towel slowly moving against his hair and skin. He placed the towel around his waist, opened the door, and was just about to step out when he noticed a figure standing outside the bathroom. It was Scarlett, with her arm extended toward the door handle. The both of them expressed shock. “Goodness,” she exclaimed, jolting her hand back. “I’m sorry, I thought you had already gone to your room.” “No, I’m sorry,” he responded. “I didn’t expect–” Florence interrupted himself. With the light from the bathroom hitting her, Florence couldn’t help but take notice to her clothes, or rather lack thereof. She was wearing purple lingerie, a sort of see-through nightgown. Her breasts were in full view, covered only by what was essentially a violet-hued filter. Realising he was ogling her, Florence quickly averted his eyes and began nervously stammering, trying to apologise for looking at her in such a manner, but unable to form a coherent sentence. He then closed the door and closed his eyes in a panic. “I’m sorry,” he finally said after collecting himself. “I, uh, didn’t mean to stare. I’ll just wait a moment for you to go, and then I’ll go to my room and we can pretend this never happened, okay?” Scarlett didn’t answer, and the man made the assumption she had agreed. After waiting for a few seconds, certainly enough for the woman to have made herself scarce, he carefully opened the door, sighing in relief when he didn’t find her standing there. He shut off the light and exited the bathroom, turning toward his room, but was met with a silhouette before taking even a few steps. There she stood, in the dark corridor. The man couldn’t make out any details, but averted his eyes once again anyway. “If you’re sorry about looking, then at least now you can’t,” she said. “I don’t think I mind, though. Besides, this was my fault. I’m sorry for startling you.” “No, no,” he retorted. “It’s not your fault at all. I shouldn’t have taken so long. I didn’t realise I was being so quiet.” Scarlett giggled quietly in response. “Well, this house is rather quiet,” she said light-heartedly. “Really, though, it’s fine. It was just a little mishap, right?” “Right,” he answered quietly. “A slight, misfortunate coincidence, stumbled upon by chance,” he thought to himself, and that’s all it was. She slipped past him and opened the bathroom door, and he looked back at her. She turned on the light before closing the door, peeked her head out and looked back at him as well, giving him a sincere and reassuring smile. She then closed the door behind her, leaving the man to go back to his room. His thoughts were all over the place as he went to his room, but once he lay down in the soft, cosy bed he quickly lost track of his mind and fell into a deep slumber.

The flip clock rang loudly in his ear. It was precisely 8 o’clock in the morning. The man felt as though he was boiling in the heat. “Another scorcher,” he grumbled to himself. He flailed around as he got dressed, and stumbled his way to the kitchen with the luggage he had brought indoors, where he was met with the fresh smell of coffee. “Good morning!” said Scarlett with a happy tone. The man awkwardly cleared his throat before he could bring himself to respond. “Good morning,” he said. He felt a bit embarrassed about last night’s mishap, but looking at her it seemed as though she had completely forgotten about it. “Sleep well?” he asked, anxious to not let silence fill the room. “Like a log,” she responded. “How about yourself?” she asked as she presented him a cup of coffee. “Same here, seems being in a car for hours on end knocks me right out,” he said and laughed a little to himself. “I’m afraid I can’t stay for breakfast, I ought to get going immediately,” he continued. Scarlett looked slightly disappointed for a fraction of a second, then quickly smiled and said she understood. They briefly talked about the price for a one night’s stay, and after the man finished his coffee and paid for his room, he made his way out the door and to his car. Scarlett stood by the door of the house, watching him prepare for his drive. “Goodbye, Mister Florence, have a safe trip,” she said, smiling sincerely at the man. “If you happen to pass by on your way home, you’re free to stay another night should you feel the need,” she added. “Thank you very much,” he replied before climbing into his car. “I might take you up on that offer,” he continued right before he closed his car door. He thought about his family, his niece and two nephews, and smiled to himself as he turned the key. The car cranked, but it didn’t start. He turned his key again, same result. A third try, but it wouldn’t start. “Shit, what now?” he muttered as he exited his vehicle. “Something the matter?” Scarlett asked, still standing by the door. “It sounds like my battery’s dead,” he said. “You don’t happen to have any jumper cables you could lend me, do you?” Scarlett shook her head, but offered to call for help. The man thanked her and went back indoors with her. He waited by the kitchen table, listening to the woman’s call with the mechanic in the other room. He could hear her stating the suspected problem, as well as a couple other possible issues which the man hadn’t even considered. It seemed she knew a thing or two about cars. She gave her name, the man’s name, and the address before thanking the mechanic in advance for his time and efforts. After hanging up, she relayed the message that there would be someone to fix the problem in an hour or so, two at most. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” she said. “Feel free to have some breakfast, this one’s on the house.” “That’s very kind of you, thank you,” he responded, grabbing himself a small stack of freshly made pancakes. “Say, I haven’t seen your daughter around this morning. Does she tend to sleep in?” he asked while coating his breakfast is syrup. “Oh, no, she’s been awake a while,” Scarlett answered. “She’s most likely outside, playing with the marbles again. She treats them like they’re her best friends.”

Marbles. He hadn’t thought much of it the evening prior, most likely because he was focused on other things, but now it had caught his full attention. “She seems quite enthusiastic about some small glass toys,” he said with a slightly puzzled look. “They’re not toys, Mister Florence,” Scarlett said. “It’s quite the interesting phenomenon, actually, and as far as I’m aware it only occurs in this area, in these woods,” she continued and offered to show him what she meant after breakfast. He had some time to kill before the mechanic would show up, so he finished his pancakes quickly and followed her to the backdoor, where he was met with an unbelievable view. Eden was dancing in front of possibly hundreds of glass marbles, all of them floating in the air as though they weighed nothing. As the light of the morning sun hit them, they refracted it onto the grass, splitting it into different colours. “They’re natural,” Scarlett said and pointed to a bed of flowers near the corner of the backyard. “Sprout from those flowers there, during spring and summer. They stick around for months, just floating in the air in the middle of my backyard, disappearing without a trace when autumn rolls around.” “Incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Florence said. “I can see why your daughter likes them so much,” he continued, clearly mesmerised by the scene in front of him. He asked if he could get a closer look, to which Eden turned around, having heard them talking, and gestured excitedly for him to come near. He looked at Scarlett for approval, and she nodded at him, smiling as sincerely as always. Up close, the view was even more fascinating. The marbles were colourless, save for a fraction of the light passing through them being reflected and dispersing into a well-known spectrum of colours inside them. Upon close inspection, they were without question made out of glass. “What kind of flower sprouts glass marbles?” he thought to himself. Eden continued to dance next to him, but when he lifted his hand, reaching for one of them, she stopped, although he didn’t notice. She looked intently at his hand. Scarlett noticed Eden’s sudden shift in behaviour, and realised quickly what was happening. “I wouldn’t–” She spoke too late, and he made contact with one of the little orbs.

Suddenly, there was no Mister Florence to be found. He, along with the marble he had touched, had vanished without a trace. Eden looked back at her mother, and the two looked at each other for a short moment. Then, Eden smiled, giggled and quickly returned to dancing with her floating friends. Scarlett smiled back at her, and shortly after she stepped back indoors, closing the door behind her and making her way to the phone. It was a beige push-button phone attached to the wall separating the hall and the living room. She dialled a familiar number. “Franx Mekanix, Frank speaking,” said the man on the other end. “Hey, Frank, it’s Scarlett,” she said. “Listen, I have an empty car in front of my house that needs towing.” “Again?” Frank asked. “Again,” she replied. “One of these days you’ll have to tell me how–” Frank was interrupted by Scarlett giving him a stern tone. “No. I won’t. I don’t pay you to ask questions,” she said. “Do what you want with the car, just make sure there’s no trace of it. Pick it up as soon as you can.” Frank sighed, but agreed and said he’d be on his way immediately, on the condition that he’d be paid in cash this time. Scarlett agreed, and hung up.

Next thing she knew she was emptying the trunk of the car standing next to hers, moving practically anything she found that wasn’t bolted down to a fire pit in the woods, about two hundred metres behind her house. She and her daughter would spend several summer evenings barbecuing at that spot every year. Once she was done piling the luggage and other things as neatly as she could in the fire pit, she made her way back to the car, making a detour through the house to grab a screwdriver, and removed the license plates. She brought both of them into the house, cleaning them in the kitchen sink the best she could, then after letting them dry they were brought up to her bedroom.

An hour later, Frank arrived with his tow truck. He got right to work, with Scarlett sitting by the front door, watching him. Once he got done with that, he approached Scarlett. “Another mysterious car missing both its license plates and its owner,” he said, faking a smile at her, to which Scarlett seemed unfazed. “Anyway, I’m all set and ready to go,” he continued. “What do I owe you this time?” she asked. “Seeing as this gets riskier every time,” he responded, followed by him briefly muttering to himself as he tried deciding on a price he deemed fair. “How’s a hundred bucks sound?” he then proposed. Scarlett sighed quietly under her breath, but agreed and handed him the cash. They didn’t say goodbye, instead awkwardly nodding at one another as Frank began driving away.

A few hours passed, and evening had come. It was about 9 o’clock, with the sun hanging low and the forest blocking out its faint, red light, leaving the house in the dark. Scarlett had just finished tucking in Eden for the night. She made her way to her bedroom, where she changed clothes, from a casual outfit she had picked out for the day to a black dress that fell below her knees. She applied some make-up to her face and picked out a dark red lipstick – her favourite colour. Afterwards, she picked up the license plates that had been resting on her vanity desk, and kissed each one, living a dark red kiss mark on both of them. She placed one of them in the bottom drawer on the right side, with the numerous others she had collected over the years. She took the other one with her as she left the house, bringing a matchbox, a cannister of lighter fluid and a bottle of red wine with her as well, and made her way to the fire pit. She placed the license plate atop the pile and generously sprayed the lighter fluid over everything that lay in the fire pit. She lit two matches tightly held together, and gently threw them at the fire pit, stepping away as the fire quickly rose and engulfed the mound of luggage and other things. The wind was still, allowing the flame to dance gently, as she opened her bottle of wine. With each sip from the neck of the bottle, a tear slowly grew larger and larger in the corner of her eye. As sips turned to chugs, the first tear fell, followed by many others, and when the bottle eventually ran dry, she let out a pained cry into the empty night, throwing the empty bottle at the side of the fire pit, causing it to shatter against the stones. She fell to her knees with her head in her hands, sobbing loudly, with the crackles of the fire being the only other noise accompanying her.

#Marbles #Story #Horror #Short story #Horror story

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blossom765 · 4 years

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Watched Frozen 2

Finally watched frozen 2 and I have some spoilery thoughts so be warned:

First off, this was a pretty good movie but I wouldn't say mind boggling great

First off, the way everything starts

It starts with a flashback of of Elsa and Anna as kids and listening to a story and a lullaby from their parents. Then it moves to Elsa and she just starts hearing this voice. And I didn't really like that very much. It just happens, there's no trigger, no set up, just stars because the movie starts. That problem persists for quite a lot through the movie. Things happen, there's not really a big trigger. Like when the elements attack Arendalle. Why attack now after all this time? Because Elsa sang a song? Because she said now she wants to go into the unknown? That's not a good enough trigger.

There's also the huge amount of songs on the worst places. Don't get me wrong, these songs are the shit and I'll probably be listening to them for years. They're far superior to the soundtrack in Frozen 1 but, that's kinda the problem. I feel, that one of the reasons Let it Go was so popular was because it was levels above the rest of the songs in the movie. Can really put for the first time in forever on the same level as let it go. For the first time in forever was great but it wasn't as huge as let it go and that's because we knew that that was the movie's main song. ( Little Mermaid had Part of Your World and Aladdin had A whole new world). And that's the problem. In this movie, all the songs are on a high level. It's like they were trying too hard to find the next let it go but they tried too hard so there's no one song that stands out from the rest. I don't really see Frozen 2 songs having the same impact let it go had but maybe that's just me. And about that part about putting the songs in the worst places, I wasn't kidding. In the first part of the movie, there's like 3 songs barely 5 minutes apart. In the first movie, they not only had songs that told the story instead of just being random songs, but they also felt like time had passed in between them. Here it just feels like their shoving songs in there. And Olaf's song about understanding things when he's older was put in an incredibly awkward place. This scene had ominous tone with the spirits throwing things out of wack and they thought this was a good time to put a comedy song. I do feel this is a better song than Olaf's frozen 1 song but at least that song was put in a better place of the movie. I think only 4 of them were placed in good places. And lost in the woods just takes us out of the movie. It was a good song but, come on. ( Lullaby, Show Yourself, Into the Unknown, The Next Right Thing )

Another thing that bothered me was Anna and Kristoff's relationship. When reviewers said that Kristoff's whole thing was about proposing to Anna, they weren't kidding. Other than saving Anna a few times, he has nothing to do except try to propose to Anna and he disappears in the third only to randomly reappear. When Anna and Kristoff kept having misunderstandings, all I could think off was how bad their communication was. Like how is it the time to think about marriage. If this was real life, this would have been one short ass marriage. Why didn't they address they? Why couldn't they have had Anna and Kristoff have a small conversation about how they need to communicate more? It doesn't even need to be that long.

I really wish I could have seen more of Elsa's and Anna's mother but oh well.

The animation is great but I wish they'd have showed more settings than just dark settings. But, I'm sure with the advancements this movie made with animals, we'll get more movies with this amazing animation talent and with different settings.

There's also that one scene where Elsa sees parts of the first movie including when she's singing let it go and she seems embarrassed by it. That was an important moment. That was a step in the direction of her being free. Why would the movie make fun of that? Bad idea, such a crazy bad idea.

The movie is way to fast. That has a lot to do with how everything happens because the movie is happening, not because there's an in-universe trigger to start things.

I also didn't really like that destiny thing thrown in about Elsa being the fifth spirit. This is more of what I don't like. I don't really like how destiny pull the character to do something. I prefer if Elsa was just both with these powers and the spirits choose her to be the next spirit based on her actions. But, whatever.

I didn't really like how they were ready to destroy the dam and Arendalle without thinking about the people. I know it had to happen but at least mention that they'll be destroying people homes. And these people didn't do anything or know anything, it was just their ancestors. Actually, it was just the king and a few of his soldiers!

There were a lot of characters that were introduced and had very small roles. Maybe we'll see them in Frozen 3. I believe a lot of these issues are here is because the creators assumed the first movie would be it and they only made a sequel because of good the first movie performed. At least now they know that if their movie does well, the higher ups are probably gonna want a sequel. I'm sure if they make a frozen 3, then they will expand more on the underdeveloped mythology. I'm okay with that with another sequel. I would prefer more original works but I'll take an animated sequel over a live action remake any day.

Now, let's get to something that a lot of people are split about. Elsa is a bad protagonist. Some people say she's great, others say she's emo and has no personality. To be honest, I can see where both are coming from. You see, Disney's characters, especially their princesses, don't have much personality diversity. They all have traits like hopeful and cheerful and often exude a sort of innocent childness. Think Anna, Rapunzel, Cinderella, Auora, Tiana, Jasmine. You can tell when they're happy and cheerful. They're all so energetic. They all have their big smile happy moments. So, when we see a character like Elsa for the first time in Disney, it can be a little jarring or a little unique depending on the person. I do prefer Anna with just how much energy she brings but I am glad Disney made a character like Elsa. It's not your fault, it's not mine. It's just what we've come to expect from Disney.

Also, is Elsa immortal now?

Also, did that part from the trailer where Anna pulls a sword from Kristoff and swings it ever in the movie? If not, what the hell? I would have loved to see it.

How does destroying the dam save Elsa?

Is that voice coming from the ice land ( I don't remember the name) itself?

So, is the horse and Bruni the lizard spirits? And of so, are they causing everything in Arendalle? I'm still so confused about this mythology, it's really underdeveloped.

Was that beautiful autumn Forest scene from the trailer ever shown? Again, what the hell?

And, how bloodthirsty are those Giants? How far are they gonna go to kill one tiny person? Jesus!

But, time for some positivity. I really loved the ending with Elsa staying in the enchanted Forest with the Northuldra. I'm glad that she still felt out of place being the only one with magic. Being the only Muslim in your school, being the only African American in your neighborhood, etc. It's a problem people can face. It's why a lot of people feel less out of place when they're surrounded by people like them. ( Like when they go to their family's home country ) the way they handled it was pretty good. You can be with your own culture and people and still be with people who are different from you. It's a better message than just having the usual "follow your dreams" Disney message. I loved how Anna became Queen. If we get another movie, I'd like to see more of what Anna does as Queen. And a smart way to do this is that Anna and Elsa aren't that far apart in age so I'm sure they've had close to the same amount of training so I'm sure Anna knows a lot on how to be Queen. And I love how Anna and Elsa followed their own lives but still have easy contact. Just like families today.

There is a lot wrong with this movie but there is so much that's good. The music, the animation, the ending, the message. It's done so much that's great. I'd still highly recommend it. I expect that future movies and possible future frozen sequel will have better writing.

Thanks for coming to my thought talk 😘

#frozen 2 #frozen 2 thoughts #frozen 2 spoilers

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b-grademoviemonsters · 4 years

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The Velocipastor

Premise according to IMDB: After losing his parents, a priest travels to China, where he inherits a mysterious ability that allows him to turn into a dinosaur. At first horrified by this new power, a hooker convinces him to use it to fight crime. And ninjas.

Premise according to us: Every so often, in an otherwise ordinary life, a movie comes along that is so visionary, so transformative and so ahead of its time that your life is never quite the same afterwards. It probably goes without saying that this is not that film. But damned if we didn’t enjoy the heck out of it anyway.

Wow, that’s high praise there. Honestly, coming across this gem after some of the dross we’ve sat through of late was like going to sleep beside the Trumpster (you nestled in your comfy bed, him prostate and unblinking in his cryovac chamber) and waking up to see a shirtless Justin Trudeau standing over you holding a breakfast tray piled high with croissants and a huge bowl of Nutella.

Mmmm, Nutella. That’s so good smeared across croissants! Right... yes... croissants. Because that would definitely not be the only place we would be smearing Nutella in this scenario. But moving right along…

Ah yes, back to The Velocipastor. Now, where were we? Well, I was about to share my general rule of thumb about this kind of movie. Which is that if the words ‘WTF’ come out of my mouth within the first five minutes, followed by vigorous thrashing of the rewind button, then we’re onto a winner. And these guys managed it with the below shot. *cue supermassive spoiler alert*

You see, during the film’s first few minutes or so, a horrific car bomb kills the family of the film’s hero priest right before his very eyes. But instead of a glorious explosion of sound, violence, body parts and middle aged parental polyester across the big screen, the director merely added a descriptive tile in a font I think came standard with Windows Office 98. I mean, have you ever seen a more excellent manifestation of having no budget than this?

Wait, so there was no explosion, no body parts and no gore... and that’s a good thing? YES! A very good thing. Because it shows they get the essence of B-grade monster movie making, which is that the budget may be small, but the tongue-in-cheek ideas don’t have to be. Talk about happy days!

Still, exploding parents is a pretty awful thing to happen to someone so young, right? Totally. But luckily our hero priest Fr Doug has the wise words of mentor Fr Stuart to ponder as he mourns his loss while sipping - nay sculling - the blood of Jesus Christ in a way we’re fairly certain the Vatican would not be keen on. “Your parents died Doug. That’s what parents do. They die on you.” Dibs putting that on a commemorative T-shirt.

So how exactly does a shattered soul such as Doug then rebuild from there? Well it’s simple. You go to the place where, in the words of Fr Stu, “you think God will not follow.” In this case, China*. And we know it’s China because, despite its resemblance to an everyday tract of north American wilderness, we are offered a few subtle clues. Namely the word ‘China’ appearing on screen in massive type and the sudden arrival of a warrior chick in a white martial arts suit and a vaguely racist bamboo peasant hat. Mind you, we don’t get too much of a look at her since she’s busy copping an arrow straight through the chest from a random ninja in the forest. Then comes the indignity of spending her final moments with our hero priest, who takes one look at the gushing bloody wound and arrowhead embedded prominently in her torso and reaches for the obvious question only a man anyone would ask in the circumstances: “Are you hurt?” Honestly, in her shoes, we would have passed him the cursed dinosaur tooth of the Dragon Warrior too. *note this film predates the arrival of the coronavirus.

By the way, just rewinding matters for a second, I couldn’t help but notice that Doug somehow managed to drive to China ... from the US: Yes, we clocked that too. But rather than get bogged down in logical exploration, let’s just assume Sarah Palin was the film’s geography consultant and move on.

OK, done. Next minute, we’re suddenly back in the US, where Doug is having some bad dreams and feeling hungry* and a prostitute called Carol is being roughed up by her pimp Frankie Mermaid, whose subtle moniker refers to the fact he’s “swimming in bitches”. Frankie old mate, you are so going to die. But not, apparently, before sending Carol out into a dark forest to drum up some business. *if you get what we mean

Wait, is that really where hookers hang out these days? #askingforafriend Well not if they want to make any money, no. But hey, no sacrifice is too great in the pursuit of #plotdevelopment. And just as we type that here it comes, in the form of an armed offender keen to separate Carol from her cash. If only there was someone, anyone, who could just randomly stumble into the forest and rescue our damsel in distress. Oh wait. Is that Fr Doug? Boy, he looks kind of hungry* *if you get what we mean

Next minute: It’s the next morning and a surprisingly buff Fr Doug is in the hooker’s bed. But not like *that*. Because she just wants to chat. Or at least to engage in some very unsophisticated single entendres about how “last night was amazing” even though “it all happened so quickly”. Fortunately her blow by blow* account sets Doug’s mind at ease, except for the bit where he turned into a dinosaur and ate someone. Which he does not believe. Because, and say it with me here religious zealots, “Dinosaurs never existed.” * Wash your mind out with soap - this is a common expression, not a sexual euphenism... yet.

Of course they didn’t. Well I assume she eventually convinces him he’s part velociraptor and that they should use his powers to rid the world of evil. But we don’t want to give away the rest of the movie do we? No, we most certainly do not want to spoil the sure-to-be-hugely-unexpected plot twists of a movie called The Velocipastor. And honestly, half the fun is in the surprises. So instead, let’s just share a few of the queries we asked each other along the way: * Did that guy really just say he’s going to survive the Vietnam War without taking a single hit? I mean, has he ever seen a war movie? * Really? You bought nunchakus to a fight with ninjas? Really? * Wait, does that exorcist have goblin ears? * Are they honestly going to boink for the first time under a chenille duvet? * No, I mean seriously, under a chenille duvet????

Wait, if our hero is a priest, then who is the prostitute boinking? Sorry, can’t answer that. But *cough* The Thorn Birds *cough*.

Well at least tell us Frankie Mermaid bites it bad: Again, mum’s the word. But let’s just say confession isn’t always good for the soul, especially when you may or may not be confessing to a certain earlier car bomb murder.

Intriguing. Well to something you can tell us, did the film get good reviews? To answer this let’s turn to our beloved critics over at the IMDB: “This movie cured my cancer and my acne, my asthma is gone and I don't need my glasses anymore.” Nuff said. Final verdict? Yep! And that’s without even mentioning the best ninjas versus dinosaur fight scene EVER committed to film. EVER. Which I really wanted to film and post here but #respectforcopyright.

Vanilla vodkas needed to sit through it (out of 10): None. And that would be true even if we hadn’t just drunk our own body weight in sugar-free soft drink.

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vienna-salvatori · 4 years

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1, 3, 6, 9, 12, 13, 17

That was quick!

1) Have you ever broken a bone? No. Given how many trees I’ve fallen out of/ times I’ve tripped over nothing/ walked straight into something, this is a bit of a surprise.

3) Do you have a “type?” Uh, maybe? I’ll think that I know, and then I’ll see a really really pretty woman somewhere and have a minor crisis because I’m so gay someone help please. For a more long-term relationship, though, I’d definitely want someone kind of similar to me- someone I can just ramble about fandoms with for hours, and who will laugh at the same things.

6) Have you ever experienced anything supernatural?Possibly. A few years ago, I was in the UK with my family. Me and mum ended up wandering around a country manor house which was supposedly haunted- we went “oh cool”, took a picture of the stairwell the ghost was supposed to appear on, and kept going. When we checked the pictures later, there was a vaguely human-shaped outline visible in that photo. (I might see if I can track down the picture and post it, later. It was pretty cool.)

9) What is your favorite kind of literature? I’m a big fan of urban fantasy, assuming it doesn’t devolve straight into (heterosexual) romance. I like having elements of something weird- sci fi or fantasy- popping up in really mundane situations, it tends to make for cool worldbuilding which is often more complex than high fantasy stories.

12) Do you have or want any tattoos or piercings?There’s nothing I’m absolutely desperate for. That said, one of my friend groups has talked about getting matching tattoos when we meet up again. I’d be pretty nervous about it but these people mean everything to me so I think I’d probably agree sooner or later.

13) What’s your favorite scent? Something about pine forests always makes me relax.

17) What is your race/nationality? ... this could easily turn into a complex ramble about identity. I’m from New Zealand originally, so if I had to say something, I’d probably go with Pakeha (a Maori term used for white and non-Maori New Zealanders). I’d definitely pick that over Australian, although I’ve lived on this side of the Tasman for over half my life now. It’s even more complicated by the fact that my dad is from Ireland, and my mum is Canadian but born to Hungarian immigrants. Sometimes I think the easiest answer to this question would just be “no”. (I have four citizenships. No, I don’t know how I was able to do that.)

#mine #asks

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myhauntedsalem · 5 years

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13 Creepy Camping Encounters That Will Put You off the Great Outdoors

1. The Crying Girl

I couldn’t sleep at all that night. I’m just glad we left the next morning.” – Keithic

2. The Shaking

“This happened to an acquaintance of mine and his son. This took place back in the early ’90s.

He had taken his young son for a father and son type hike out of Skagway. If any of you are familiar with Skagpatch, there is quite a network of trails above town at lower Dewey lakes.

He was pretty shaken up by the next morning as you could imagine.

He reported it to the troopers, and the only thing they could come up with was someone with a night vision set up messing around. Or something else…” – Yukoner

3. The Middle of the Woods

4. The Hanging Man

5. Scratches

6. Music in the Night

7. The Light

“We were in a river-side cabin one night in Northern Michigan. I had just stretched out when a huge crack erupted from the woods. Both of us thought it was a branch or old tree that had fallen.

8. Blue Spectre

9. Footsteps Upstairs

“Not something I experienced, but my sister and her husband did.

They took the long way around the lake back to the cabin.

My dad and I had to go back later that day to get the canoe. We never heard or saw anything.” – joftheinternet

10. Geocaching

11. Who Followed Us?

“This happened in 81 or 82. Not sure anymore.

12. The Circle

13. The Gator

#13 Creepy Camping Encounters That Will Put You off the Great Outdoors #paranormal #ghost and hauntings

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ireddeadredemption2pc-blog · 4 years

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Red Dead Redemption 2 PC

Red Dead Redemption2 PC

The old west feels brand new again.

Oh Jesus Christ, what have you done? “Thomaschen 978 wants to know why a dozen carcasses and a couple of horse corpses are placed on rail tracks bordering the early industrial city and are the New Orleans stand-in St. Denis.” You killed half. village.” PC Games For Free

We are on round two of the recurring corpse pile. My poses got the idea to jump in front of the train after a few rounds of Lose Your Friends and Toss Them in the Sea in the Couple Friendly Strangers. Like GTA 5, Red Dead Redemption 2 has its own bowling minima, we explain to Chen in a roundabout way that provokes his fear. Die in the shared open world of Red Dead Redemption 2 and you’ll react fast enough to move your corpse around. Best RPGs games pc

The boy is in line with us. We should make it bigger. As the train comes around again, another pose tries to take us out. The chain defends us but does not bring it back to the tracks. He goes away screaming. Death of a true warrior.

Red Dead Redemption 2 could be the biggest, most humble videogame ball pit for an annoying story about impulsive children, the forced disintegration of the community, or simply a quiet and reflective hiking simulator. It’s just about what you need it to be, and it’s good at it.

Just hours before the corpse-bowling, I was alone through the icy forests, stepping into the long shadow cast across the snow by the rising moon. I heard a gunshot from a distance. The tracks of some wolves marked snow in the same direction. I saw them who won. Anytime I pay attention and look closely, RDR2 is the result of my curiosity. Best Racing games on pc

The mind-numbing expanse that makes up the vast world of RDR2 speaks to the creative force of a development team with an intense, obsessive dedication to realism (and all the money and time needed to do so). Like how my friends’ characters flare up when I fire a gun at them, how animal carcasses disintegrate over time, how NPCs react according to a sloppy or bloody outfit, how to stir through a doorway. Scares everyone everywhere.

It is hard to believe that RDR2 is so deep and wide and is also a harmonious, playable thing. I was already playing it for days worth the console version. This is why I am particularly disappointed that it ended up on the PC to some extent.

For every non-taught multiplayer adventure, disconnect or crash on the desktop, desktop. The rock star’s best storyline and character so far has been filmed through Frame Hutches’ slideshow and addressed over the launch weekend.

RDR2, one of the best Western games and one of the best open-world games I have ever released with enough stability issues, is recommended for the hard way until everything is completely smooth.

Morgan trail

EVERY PRETTY VISTA IS SOMETHING TO LOSE THROUGH ARTHUR’S EYES.

The story genre of Red Dead Redemption 2 follows the dying days of the Wild West. The sprawling industrial world faced the bandits and social downtrodden of Arthur Morgan’s small band, an imperfect but loyal, loving and self-reliant community.

Capitalism is reducing its value as resources to humans. Indigenous USA America is driven from the plains to make way for ‘civilization’ and commerce. The forests are brought down for timber, the hills are cut down for coal, and Morgan’s chosen family is caught in the middle, forced to flee, assimilate, or respond with violent protests is done. They do all three.

This is Rockstar’s most serious drama, and it’s really, really long. If you are running, the story ends after 40 to 50 hours and then continues for 10 to 15. The main story missions of Red Dead 2 feature distinctly rockstar fare: ride to a destination that is talking to everyone, tightly scripting though, entertaining things, riding, and chatting to the final destination.

Missions are often thrilling action sequences or artificially mundane pictures of wrench labor and trade, full of long-winded Bespoke animations, and outstanding performances. They are only hopelessly harsh, to the point where it feels like I am following the stage directions rather than playing the role of a vagabond in the Old West.

Step out of line in these campaigns and this is a failed situation. As opposed to Red Dead Online, there are very few of them that encourage players to think for themselves, each designed to advance the story. The RDR2 show is at least a spectacle of the slow pace of life in the Old West.

This is not the death and theatricality of a lifetime; My favorite missions include shoveling, drinking wine with a friend, proposing an old romance and riding a hot air balloon. Working through a greater rut, stricter tasks are considered meaningful in the end anyway, inspired by extraordinary, ambient world-building and characterization.

Side missions, minigames, small activities, and random world events — whether they hunt great guns, capture a play, or stumble upon a woman trapped under a horse — all set Arthur’s character and setting in subtle, rich ways. Please inform.

Nested in the third act of a fully animated and voice theatrical performance, something like 10 minutes, it is possible that the response button is pressed after an artist has included a telephone. Arthur would shout, “Hell with the telephone!” It is an optional activity, a long one, and an option is to react in that short window. I think most players will remember this, but this is Canad Response 1 through 3 because this is something Arthur would say, a rageless goofy set his way in the right way.

He would write complete, real diary entries about the 50-hour campaign, sketching memorable scenes and depicting the state of affairs of his chosen family, which people once knew changed their fortunes between hope and despair. It is meant to be a completely alternative reading, but a refreshingly intimate take on a masculine figure that unsettles many doubts and hopes as to the next person.

He sings himself on a lonely ride and lowers his old body in the mirror. He will have an exciting conversation with the horseshoe woman as he gives her a ride into town, both commenting on the troubles of working for wealthy, ungrateful men as a growing necessity. I feel it all. Best horror games on pc free

Hillbillies can capture him after making the camp, a couple may try to rob him after inviting him to dinner, a man with snakebite can come out of the forest by stumbling and tell him to suck venom is. These haphazard encounters portray brutal life on the fading frontier, as nature pushes back against inner poppers who want to change it. Arthur is the perfect vessel to see it

This is because Arthur Morgan is one of the darkest human characters I have played during a great turning point in American history, playing a playful, cruel and compassionate role according to differing theories.

The game world, beautiful as it is, is made more beautiful and tragic by how it is ready to play it on every occasion. Every beautiful vista has something to lose through Arthur’s eyes, power lines and train tracks, cut through the skies, and the rest of his life is slowly filling with factory smoke. Just about everyone sees a sad end in RDR2, too. This is a story that I might not sustain every moment, but I will not forget its brutal arc or the man in the middle of it all. God damn is it sad? An apocalypse that led to this.

Ren Der Reflection

Assuming that you are able to run it at high settings, the biggest strength of RDR2 is how it exquisitely renders the Old West setting on PC, drawing more attention to the nuanced details that make it. This is one of the best looking games I’ve seen and a rare experience that justifies a new GPU or CPU.

Better draw distance and a greater range of vegetation detail were added, making some vistas look photographic. Long shadows vary from walking or roaming between places to rides, to cute nature tours. Due to animal attacks, bullet holes, rain, mud, or rapid flow of blood, the markings on the clothes are caused by very high-resolution textures, which tell a very little story about your friends.

A new photo mode makes it easy to share those moments of amazement. The way the player rides on RDR2 for just sightseeing and sounds is an important feature. I am desperately trying to get an artistic portrait of my horse’s silhouette to sit against the moon, yet another self-proclaimed goal was tolerated by this ridiculously large complex game.

With 2080, i9-9900K and 32GB of RAM, I can run RDR2 mostly on ultra settings with some resource-intensive settings completely off or switched off. But some hardware combinations are proving troublesome for RDR2, leading to random crashes in some APIs and, more recently, to a hotfix, leading to hitching problems for some 4-core CPUs.

During the first weekend, I couldn’t spend more than an hour without crashing on the desktop, though Vulcan switched from DX12 (which gives me better framerates) back to static stuff. Sometimes the UI malfunctions and I cannot select a select or purchase option, the map fails to appear, or I get paged unexpectedly from game servers.

The graphics settings are almost too much as well, and probably confusing. In our test, only a handful of settings affected performance by more than 1-2 percent. Large residuals, the mapping between MSAA, volumetric lighting, and parallax occlusion, affect performance by 5 to 25 percent. Most of them don’t make a big visual difference anyway and are best left out.

The way the settings are presented is made to feel underdeveloped: a huge list with unclear presets that require tinkering to make RDR2 run in a satisfactory framerate. It is hard. The PC should be the best place to play, not the best place to play, after all, after a few patches. It’s a shame for a game to look good. upcoming pc games

Cowboy poetry Red Dead Redemption 2 PC

Like in singleplayer mode, in Red Dead Online I can make my goals reasonable and watch them. The problem is, it is basically hamstrung by a frustrating multiplayer leveling system that locks basic equipment and cosmetics behind long XP requirements that can meet hours, perhaps days,

The option is spending gold, premium currency, items and clothing to unlock them immediately. A fishing pole is not available until level 14. A damn fishing pole in an outdoor recreation game. This is not spectacular and is a terrible way to invest players.

out a basic suite of tools (fishing rod, bow, varmint rifle, nice hat, etc.), Red Dead Online opened up widely. I have largely ignored traditional matchmaking modes such as gunfights and horse races, cheap thrills, I will play much better versions in different games, to have fun. It led to the most inventive, serene, real, and sometimes buzzing echo I’ve ever had.

I once walked into the middle of a fire in Blackwater and took the player corpses one by one to the church cemetery. Some were captured and participated in the ‘burial’ of their friends. A corpse thanked me for the gesture. Later, in an extended streak of criminal activity, my pose and I caught another player and instead of killing them on the spot, we rode into the swamp and threw them into the garter infected waters. I got the idea to act like a friend. Best pc games 2017

On a less absurd note, I set myself a constant goal of earning strictly enough money from hunting to buy cool-weather gear and a fine rifle. I am going to hike in the mountains and find the best way to hide there, a wild mountain man adorned with animal skins, which almost touches the floor.

In the meantime, I’m stopping gunmen across the city by running through the streets and calling for a parley. I am participating in an eight-player ballroom. I am living the life of a normal cowboy in the best shepherd game. I hope it clears up soon.

RDR2 PC System Requirements

OS : Windows 7 SP1 64bit

Graphics Nvidia GeForce GTX 770 2GB / AMD Radeon R9 280

Processor: Intel Core i5-2500K / AMD FX-6300

Memory: 8 GB RAM

DirectX: Version 11 Or 12 Support

Storage: 150 GB

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