#the actual writings of Edgar Allan Poe too some of them fit here but some actually scare me

[note-boom]

Getting Around Here...

All right, we’ve reached the point where I’ve been told I have 1000 posts on here, so I’m gonna make a navigation/what’s this blog about post so I don’t go insane...

What’s This Blog About?

Basically this started as a realization that I was saving way too many BSD-related links on the app I use to keep track of all my obsessions, reactions to things, etc. So I figured a Tumblr blog would be the solution, and now this is my archive of things I would usually just save as a link elsewhere (plus some thoughts of my own to spice it up a bit.)

Navigation Stuff

Now how do I tag things for future explorations?

Fandom Tags: #bsd, #bungo stray dogs, #bungou stray dogs (will be updated if I switch/tack on other fandoms)

Character Tags: In general, I just use [acronym] [character’s most used name]. Like #bsd atsushi. Sometimes, I use two like #bsd edgar allan poe/#bsd poe or #bsd gogol/#bsd nikolai gogol but only when I’m not sure what their most used name is. There’s also #bsd characters (for unnamed characters or just incorrect quotes) this one (when there are too many characters to tag) and group specific tags (armed detective agency, port mafia, bsd guild, soukoku, shin soukoku, there’s no naming consistency)

Meta Tags: #bsd musings (for literally anything that contemplates bsd) #bsd theories (for theories, specifically) #character analysis (metas about characters)

Specific Media Tags: #bsd official art, #manga things (anything that features the manga panels) #anime things (anything that features anime screenshots and the like) #light novel things (anything referring to the light novels) #stage play things (anything featuring stuff about the stage play) #bsd fanart, #bsd edits, #bsd gifset, #bsd fanfic. Of course, there will also be tags for the light novels specifically, which is usually just bsd [light novel name], and wan.

Additional Tags: #humor, #alternate universe, #crossover, #random fandom spamdom (generally fandom related either because of my tags or the post’s contents itself) #bsd fandom slander (mostly a subset of humor that lovingly slanders the characters) #not fandom spam (has nothing to do with the fandom specifically) #spitting nonsense (my posts) #rambling in the tags sorry (when I get a bit TOO carried away) #note re-reblogs (currently nonexistent but the time will come...i advise blocking this tag lest you wake up to find 50 posts rereblogged because I didn't want to queue them...)

Spoilers tags will be tagged bsd spoilers (for all of them), manga spoilers/bsd manga spoilers, and anime spoilers/bsd anime spoilers.

In (Rambly) Conclusion

Why am I writing this like a three-point thesis...ah never mind.

And that’s how I sort out my obsession with this stupid show. If any other piece of media seizes me by the throat like BSD has, then I’ll probably start posting about it here (but my fixations are usually short lived and thus onto main sideblog they go).

I tend to...ramble in the tags a lot, which I mildly feel bad for (there’s a reason why I generally just privately save things). So if you’re seeing this because I spam reblogged you and you wondered who in the world was crowding your notifs with tags, I’m sorry. I also try not to crawl out of the tags too much, though, just do so if they don’t fit my rambles (oops....)

I try and lessen the blow by slapping most everything on the queue (but I don’t tag what I queue, let there be CHAOS), so maybe that helps a bit?

That said, I DO love tags, so feel free to spam reblog whatever you want from here and comment-tag as much as you want...I LOVE seeing people say stuff (whether I agree or not, this IS just for fun). I don’t usually use the comment/reply section or the like button because I don’t actually do anything in my main blog (I just work off sideblogs, heh), so I’ll likely abuse the reblog button a lot or just hope my vibes of appreciation are psychically felt.

OH RIGHT!! Asks are always open. Feel free to scream at me about literally anything, ask anything, or share cool links and shiny stuff I can reblog/save (the last one especially because I am a magpie of fandom things). I generally have to be asked things to talk about them, so I do warn you that the right ask can really get me going.

And with that, back to spamming I go!

#spitting nonsense #to those of you who reached the end of this post i am shaking your hand #also some additional stuff? #i cope with liking bsd by bullying everyone as much as sobbing over them #and....honestly i cant think of anything #edit: bullying everyone meaning bullying the characters....should have clarified

[oncedied]

3, 23, 39, 42! (writing meme)

Send me some writing questions !! I don’t have internet so this is all answers on mobile someone help me

3. What are some tropes/details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

I utilize a lot of tropes in my writing, considering how tropes are in-part the very backbone of a story. One such example of a trope is the three-part friendship squad trope, where I often enjoy writing works with three main characters, either complimenting or contrasting each other (or even both). One such example is how I handled Mayday, Zuke and Echo in Your Rhinestone Eyes. Zuke — as in canon — is intended to be a complimentary contrast to Mayday. Echo is intended to be a complimentary to both, even though she and Mayday go through some hiccups.

Another thing that is very characteristic of my writing is my use of commas and hyphens to pace sentences a certain way, or add dramatic effect — think like the end of Edgar Allan Pie’s The Tell-Tale Heart; how he uses hyphens to emphasize the desperation of the narrator as he dives deeper into paranoia before confessing his crime. I also have a tendency to use long, descriptive sentences and can often get quite flowery with them.

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

Hmm, that one is a bit tough to decide. Especially considering how I’m always taking inspiration from things and juggling things around to try and find what fits right. I’ve written many fantasy stories, but never anything that’s sci-fi or a mix of both sci-fi and fantasy, but that is something that I wish to change very soon! I would also like to write an AU of a musical, like those Grease AUs people used to make. But instead of Grease it’s idk Rocky Horror Picture Show.

39. Is any aspect of your writing process inspired by other writers or people? If so, who?

Not too sure about writing process since I go by the whole let-things-unfold-organically-fuck-around-and-find-out method, BUT! A lot of my works are inspired by other authors! I particularly take inspiration from Edgar Allan Poe, William Shakespeare, various classical authors, the Wings of Fire series, games and other medias such as Assassin’s Creed, Zelda, Destiny, Borderlands, comics like the Transformers IDW comics, songs and music, dreams I’ve had, mythology and ancient history, and more.

42. Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

There are many comments, but only on one fic tho — which is still one of the greatest I’ve written, and still ongoing once I find the motivation to continue writing for the cookie run fandom. There are 170 or so comments on that fic, and I couldn’t choose just one.

Here are some examples of them. Wasteland, Baby! has brought me over 14 thousand views and still growing strong, and bears over 170 thousand words, the most I’ve ever put towards any one work, and it is still a story I am determined to bring to a close.

To see that these people read my work, were affected by it, even read my author’s notes on the chapters and the spaces in between, and left such adoring words. And I am forever grateful for them. I may have left them in the dark since august or so but these people are my supporters and I will not let them down no matter what. I cannot begin to describe or word how important these praises are to me, how deeply they touch me, and how little I feel I deserve them. I’m just a hobbyist writing little stories for fun, I am not worthy of such high praises that surely should be going towards an actual publishing author.

It’s humbling. It makes my heart sing. And boy do I ever wish I could return how these comments make me feel right back to the sender but every word I write feels like it doesn’t do it enough justice.

#words of a supernova #stellar inquiries #wasteland baby! #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #NSR #no straight roads

[flyingdeskset]

My Guide to Romantic Academia

I have to admit, I’m only new to this myself. I feel like a bit of a hypocrite, trying to teach about something I am myself only learning. But I suppose, I have always been an academic, and I am a bit of an expert in hopeless romanticism. After extensive research, here is what I have come up with (should I put this in two parts? I don’t think so. If you really want to be a romantic academic, you’ll read to the end):

Fashion:

Tops:

Turtlenecks! Any academic’s best friend, they are not only soft and cosy, they are also really cute!

Cowl necks. These are great for winter, and go with literally anything.

Blouses. Specifically with poofy sleeves.

Cardigans. Either the thin, fitted kind or the chunky-knit, over-sized kind; both are great.

Blazers. Don’t know if this should go into outerwear or not. Anyway, these are lovely and go great with fitted skirts and dresses (or jeans, or trousers, if you’re not a skirt-wearer)

Vintage jumpers. I especially love faded mens’ v-necks.

Bottoms:

Pleated skirts. These give off great Catholic school-girl vibes (it doesn’t matter if you’re not catholic. I go to an actual Irish all-girl Catholic school, and I’m not Catholic [nor do I wear pleated skirts, to my dismay])

Woolen skirts. So cosy, and so romantic.

Tweed trousers. I personally don’t own any of these because I don’t really wear trousers, but I intend to buy a pair.

Jeans. Nothing wrong with jeans once in a while! Try to style them with more academic-type tops and outerwear, though.

Outerwear:

Overcoats. Just soft, woolen winter coats. Impractical (since they don’t generally have hoods and I live in the rainiest country ever), but the things we sacrifice for the aesthetic, eh?

Trench coats. These are great for spring.

Hats: berets and caps.

Scarves: honestly, anything. Scarves in and of themselves are very romantic academia.

Gloves: I personally prefer leather, with cotton houndstooth detailing, but this is up to you!

Shoes: oxfords, loafers and pumps (specifically patent) are all great choices. I also love knee-high boots, especially for winter.

Nightwear:

Flannel suits. Stripy flannel. So soft. So cosy. Mine are pink.

Silk suits. Very classy and debonair, and they feel great.

Silk/cotton nightgowns. Another step up with the class! These are great for the summer.

Robes. Any robes, all robes. I recommend having at least three, in various colours, styles and fabrics (you think this is a joke. It’s not. I have four.)

Miscellaneous/Tips:

Dresses (I didn’t know what category to put them in). Vintage is great, but any style that isn’t overly modern is fine.

Fabrics: tweed, wool, cotton, the like. Also, lace. Lace is great.

Colour dos: Muted colours (greys and beiges). Cream is always a win. Jewel tones (emerald, ruby). You can’t go wrong with black, though I try not to go overboard with it.

Colour don'ts: Neon colours are a big no-no. Pastels are a hit-and-miss situation. For example, soft dusky pinks are great, but too much baby blue and you’re straying away from the tortured-academic look. Try and avoid bright scarlets and royal blues.

When wearing basically any top that isn’t a cardigan or a blazer: tuck it in! Whether tucked into a skirt or trousers, this gives off a put together, I-know-what-I’m-doing vibe that is essential (even if you don’t know what you’re doing). It’s also very flattering on a lot of body types.

Of course, fashion isn’t essential to the aesthetic. Adjust this to your tastes!

Media:

Writers/Poets:

Jane Austen

William Blake

Brontë sisters

Lord Byron

Donna Tartt. You know I had to put her in here.

Oscar Wilde (he’s not actually Romantic, but he is Oscar Wilde)(and he’s Irish!)

Maria Edgeworth

Victor Hugo

John Keats

Edgar Allan Poe

Mary Shelley

Henry David Thoreau

William Wordsworth

Feel free to add to this; it’s nowhere near complete.

Composers:

Tchaikovsky

Chopin

Schumann (Clara and Robert)

Liszt

Brahms

Offenbach

Dvořák

Again, not complete!

Movies (because we can’t be 19th century nobility all the time)

Jane Eyre

Dead Poets Society

Kill Your Darlings

Pride and Prejudice

Any other Jane Austen adaptation

Clueless (because of the Jane Austen affiliation!)

10 Things I Hate About You (Taming of the Shrew!)(can you tell I’m making excuses to put 90’s chick flicks in here?)

Becoming Jane

Good Will Hunting

The Princess Bride

Maurice (Hugh Grant!)

Les Misérables

Breakfast at Tiffany’s (honestly, the classy, vintage feeling you’ll get from watching an Audrey Hepburn movie is irreplaceable)

Edgar Allen Poe’s Murder Mystery Dinner Party (not even a movie, it’s just really good)

To be honest, this isn’t even trying to be a complete list. These are just my favourite movies that I can squeeze into the genre.

Lifestyle (the most important bit!):

Carpe Diem. The number one tip for any academic. I feel it’s important to note, this is different for everyone. For some people, ‘seizing the day ’ is skydiving, or dropping everything and travelling the world. For others, it’s simply getting out of the house in the morning, and neither is any better than the other!

Create. This, again, is different for everyone. If you’re a writer, write! This could be a poem, a full blown novel, or just some Oliver/James fanfiction (did I mention I love If We Were Villains?)! If you’re an artist, do art! Whether it’s an oil portrait or a sketch of Richard Papen looking like the lovesick idiot he is, it’s all the same!

Be Mysterious. Honestly, I don’t even know how. I’m still getting the hang of this myself.

Read! Read everything! You don’t have to limit yourself to classics. Also, reading in public is great.

Be polite. Of course, this is a given for everyone. But, if you have the manners of a Victorian lady, it’ll give you definite Mysterious Points.

Drink tea. Or coffee. Or even hot chocolate. And it doesn’t have to be black tea and dark chocolate, because we’re not as bitter as the dark academics.

Take up an instrument. People seem to think this has to be the violin, but it doesn’t. I play the clarinet, and also the ukulele! Whatever is right for you!

Well, I hope this helped people. Remember you don’t have to follow this to the word! Feel free to adapt to your personality, add things, and ask questions!

#romantic academia #dark academia #light academia #fashion #literature #lifestyle #music #romantic academia tips

[mathgeek101]

tag gameeeeeee

tagged by @strohller27 !!!!!!!! Thanks George~

this is a somewhat long tag game, and I have no self control about how much I talk about myself so I'm gonna put it under the cut :)

1. why did you choose your url?

I’m a mathgeek! that's it! Starting in elementary school I went to the junior high school for math classes in the morning, and then at the end of junior high I went to the high school for my math classes again, and was always in math with the grade older than me. I took AP Calc as a junior and got a 5 on the AP test, so it kinda fits I guess. I actually made the moniker for my first email account when I was 13 so I could make a facebook account.

2. any side blogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them.

LMAO I LITERALLY HAVE 4. Anyway first I have two writing blogs: @i-am-rmt for poetry, and @iamrmt for prose. They act as catalogues of my writing! The prose one is basically inactive, but seeing as it’s simply a catalogue I’m not gonna delete it. Then there is @yiling-who my side blog for The Untamed - yeah that Chinese drama that took tumblr by storm. Big thanks to @hoebutnotreally for convincing me to watch it! Lastly is my side blog for DKB @dkbtho . DKB is a rookie kpop group that I’m currently obsessed with! They’re so cute and they self produce and also do all their own choreography and are such skilled individuals and also are so funny 

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

This year on November 23rd will be the 10 year birthday of mathgeek101!

4. do you have a queue tag?

“qute” it’s on sooo many of my posts because I almost exclusively post from my queue..

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

both my sisters had tumblrs, and I guess I just thought “neat, I’ll make one too.” I remember sitting on the couch during thanksgiving break while my family was watching Harry Potter (the seventh movie maybe?) and designing my blog

6. why did you choose your icon?

oh it’s me! My icon has always been me, because this blog is just a messy collection of my interests. My friend (@hoebutnotreally) did my makeup and hair and we took pictures (I posted some here too!)

7. why did you choose your header?

oh it’s me again! I took that picture on a whim with a silly snapchat filter and I thought it turned out neat, so I hid my icon on mobile and I think my blog looks pretty neat that way.

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

9. how many mutuals do you have?

I think it’s my Mushu Zuko post still... I know there’s a way to check, but I’ll just go with that post for now.

OKAY so I’m back after checking and actually it’s my post about reading Call Me, Beep Me - THE klance voltron fic

idk man is there a way to check that, too? I don’t really interact with my mutuals, and I don’t really get the huge hype around them? like, yeah, I appreciate my mutuals, and I love seeing your posts (oh my friend made a post!). I wouldn’t mind interacting with them more, I’m just awkward and suck at talking to people - even people I know in real life and have to make plans with. But all in all, if a mutual unfollows me, I’m not gonna have a meltdown or anything

10. how many followers do you have?

429! I love you guys! When I post about my followers I always tag it with “i love you guys”

11. how many people do you follow?

I’m following 147 blogs.

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

does the Mushu and Zuko post count? Does “hockey is one letter away from hickey” count? I also made a post about Poe Dameron vs Edgar Allan Poe and Po from Kung Fu Panda... you decide. I tag all my original posts with “mine”

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

too much! jk I’m on it very frequently, but lately I’ve been watching youtube videos over scrolling on tumblr

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

nah. Once I did have someone reply to a post I made somewhat rudely, and I replied to them and they didn’t say anything, so if that counts, then I WON.

15. how do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

eh, they’re pretty dumb, and I’m pretty neutral about them, but I also understand that it’s problematic.

16. do you like tag games?

yes! I really enjoy talking about myself I guess! Wow! Most people honestly do love talking about themselves, and it’s even easier when it’s online and I don’t have to deal with people’s real time reactions :)

17. do you like ask games?

LOVE them. sometimes I wish I was a famous blogger so people would ask me stuff from ask games, but I also don’t reblog them that often.

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

ohhhh uhhhhhhh,,,,,,,, idk man

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

nah, I don’t interact with them enough for that

20. tagging

uhhh if you’ve made it this far and you want to do it consider yourself tagged :)

#mine #tag game #thanks George!!! #it was a lot of fun reading your post :)

[earlgreyteaforhere]

book recommendations?

Hello Anon! This is very vague, but I will take this as an opportunity to recommend some wonderful books across all sorts of different genres. Put on your seat belt, wear a mask, log into your goodreads app, and prepare to be bombarded with an even longer never ending TBR list. 

||Nonfiction||

Notes of A Native Son by James Baldwin: If you haven’t read anything by Baldwin yet, this is a great place to start. This book is a collection of ten nonfiction essays primarily focusing on issues of race in America and Europe. Baldwin’s writing style is unlike any other, and in my opinion, is the equivalent of jazz on the page if such a thing does exist. His words will get you lost and challenge your understanding of the world as you know it, only to bring you to the profound realization that you did not in fact know the world very well at all. 

The Empathy Exams by Leslie Jamison: I wouldn’t necessarily call this a medical memoir, rather this book is a collection of essays focusing on empathy via stories relating in some way to medical topics. Jamison’s writing style is highly engaging and she forces the reader to ask themselves some very difficult questions about themself and their role in the world. Empathy is a complex thing, and if you’re interested in understanding the nuances of the subject, and perhaps learning more about yourself, I would very much recommend this book. 

||Historical Fiction||

Small Island by Andrea Levy: Set in and around WWII, the story follows the main characters Hortense, Gilbert, Queenie, and Bernard in a rather nonlinear recounting of events taking place in Jamaica, England, America, and India. The novel explores the complicated issues of Great Britain’s colonization of Jamaica, and the rough transition for Jamaican’s living in England to help support the wartime effort. I listened to the audiobook for this one and the voice actors did a fantastic job of giving each character a distinct and easily identifiable voice and personality. I think there is also a BBC adaptation of the book. 

The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto by Mitch Albom: Not sure if this technically qualifies as historical fiction, but I’m putting it here because it does a great job of tracing a lot of the evolution of modern popular music. I will never stop recommending this book. The novel is narrated by the entity of music and follows the life of Frankie Presto in a sort of Forrest Gump like fashion. I won’t say much about the plot, but I will tell you this book will make you laugh, cry, and everything in between. Please read this book. 

||Fiction||

Less Than Zero by Bret Easton Ellis: This book is told from the pov of Clay, a wealthy kid from California who goes to college in the Northeast. The novel follows his time at home during winter break and highlights the more unsightly aspects of the rich elite on the West Coast. This book made me feel sort of dead inside and pessimistic about the world, so I’m not sure it would be the best book to read right now given current events. But if your mental health is stable and in a good place, this is a quick read and an all around good book. 

Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan: While the movie received some harsh criticisms, I really enjoyed this book. Kwan has a unique style and is able to tell the story from many different points of view without the characters getting lost or blending together. Often times I have a difficult time keeping track of names and relationships if there is a large cast of characters, but Kwan does a fantastic job. If you enjoy juicy family drama and heartwarming friendships, I recommend giving this a read. It’s also set in Singapore which was a first for me to read about and definitely convinced me to add a trip to Singapore on my bucketlist. 

||YA Fiction||

We All Looked Up by Tommy Wallach: I read this book in two days when I was fifteen and it immediately found a permanent place in my heart. This book is about the potential end of the world from the perspectives of high school students in a style reminiscent of The Breakfast Club. I remember reading this and thinking “wow, this dude just really gets it” because Wallach perfectly captures my teenage angsty self. This is also a fitting read since it seems like the world is ending these days. I also recommend Thanks For the Trouble by Tommy Wallach because it’s an incredibly unique, intriguing, and just plain weird story. Wallach enjoys ambiguity in his stories, so if you’re into that kind of negative capability, then his books might just be a good match for you. 

The Illuminae Files by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff: This is technically YA sci-fi, but this is my list and I’m putting it here anyway. I’m personally not much of a sci-fi reader, so I don’t remember why I thought to pick up this series, but I am so glad I did. Illuminae has pretty much every sci-fi trope you can think of all wrapped into one marvelous multi-media kick-ass space story. The books themselves look thicc, but don’t let that turn you away. Despite the books having many pages, the story is told through emails, security camera footage logs, journal pages, text messages, and many pictures which makes for a speedy read. I recommend the Illuminae Files for those who don’t read sci-fi, but are willing to give it a try. 

Emergency Contact by Mary H. K. Choi: I read this book at pretty much the perfect time in my life and I think that’s probably why I enjoyed it so much. The book is about Penny and her journey as she begins college at UT Austin and the anxieties/challenges that come along with that. Friendships, mother/daughter relationships, romance, drama, and a whole lot of social awkwardness. I’d recommend this to college students and or those about to go to college because I think most will find this book quite relatable in at least some way. The book reassures us that we are not alone in our awkward transition stages of life. 

All For the Game by Nora Sakavic: This series is about a fictional sport called exy. Yes, that’s right, I’m recommending you books about a sport. Exy is sort of like lacrosse, but like better, more aggressive, and more drama. The series is about the main character, Neil Josten, who is on the run from his mob boss dad. Neil finds solace in exy and is actually not that bad at it. He goes to college, joins the Palmetto State Foxes exy team, and it’s all uphill (downhill?) from there. This series has unforgettable characters, lots of drugs and violence (don’t read if that triggers you), lots of gay, and lots of exy. For a book series about a sport, All for the game is amazing and I recommend it to everyone looking for a binge read. Note: I’ve heard physical copies are hard to find, but the ebook version is available through the kindle app and probably other places too. 

||YA Fantasy||

Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas: oooooookay here we go. This series makes me weep just thinking about it, that’s how much I love it. I don’t think I’ve ever read anything that just hit me. so. hard. So many emotions. The series follows Celaena Sardothein, an assassin, and essentially her journey to becoming herself. Vague, I know, but I seriously cannot give anything away. SJM’s worldbuilding is next level and her characters are probably my favorite aspect of any and all of her books. I’ll also recommend her A Court of Thorns and Roses series here for the same reasons even though it’s been rebranded as “new adult fantasy.” Celaena is probably my favorite main character of all time, and I cannot fully express how much her story means to me. Throne of Glass is easy to follow and great for getting into the fantasy genre if it’s something you’ve never read before. Please give these books a try, I am begging you. 

The Remnant Chronicles by Mary E. Pearson: The first book of this trilogy easily has one of the most shocking plot twists I have ever read. If that doesn’t pique your interest, I don’t know what will. Sorry. The Remnant Chronicles is a sort of milder fantasy than Throne of Glass, but fantasy nonetheless and super underrated. I’d recommend this series to people who enjoy stories about the politics of fantasy worlds, romance, and friendship. I let my little sister read my copies and she got through them in less than a week (I think) and could not stop raving about them. 

The Raven Cycle by Maggie Steifvater: I think magical realism is a better genre for these books, but I’m putting them here under YA fantasy anyway. Fight me. Above anything else, you will fall in love with these characters. Set in Virginia, the Raven Cycle is honestly strange (in a good way) and tells the story of a group of friends’ quest to find some sleeping Welsh king. While the series is mostly about finding that damn king, there is a healthy amount of romance, swearing, clairvoyance, yogurt, latin, and all around good times. Steifvater’s writing style is unique, and with that it is admittedly a bit difficult to get into at first. But please stick with it! I promise it’s worth it! One of my favorite series ever, highly recommend. 

||Short Stories||

Here is a list of short stories I enjoy. Not gonna do a whole synopsis for each, but take my word for it and pls read them.

-Tall Tales from the Mekong Delta by Kate Braverman

-Two Kinds by Amy Tan 

-The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

-Jealous Husband Returns in Form of Parrot by Robert Olen Butler

-The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas by Ursula K. Le Guin

-Girl by Jamaica Kincaid

-The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allan Poe

-The Secret Goldfish by David Means

-The Lottery by Shirley Jackson

-A Temporary Matter by Jhumpa Lahiri

-The Cavemen in the Hedges by Stacey Richter

-The Bad Graft by Karen Russell

-Eveline by James Joyce

I hope these recommendations are helpful in contributing to your summer reading and on-going TBR list. This is probably not what you were expecting when you simply asked “book recommendations?” but here you go. Happy reading, whoever you are. 

:)

#Book Recommendations #nonfiction #fiction #ya #ya fiction #ya fantasy #fantasy #scifi #short story #historical fiction #books #tbr #summer reading #books recs #anon #trc #tog #acotar #aftg

[justformyself2]

P.S. I Love You (p4)

Hi guys, welcome to the last part of the series (awnnn). This was very fun to write, for real, i really feel proud of this story and i love the original so much that i included some dialogues from the actual movie in it. Well, i hope you guys liked it as much as i did ♥

The Rom-Com Writing Challenge is brought to you by my dear creative friend @lullabieswrappedinlies​. As the title says, this is inspired by - the great at making me cry hard movie- ‘P.S. I Love You.’ if you haven’t seen it, go see it before you read this

BEFORE YOU JUMP IN BE ADVISED:

.This series contains spoilers from the movie P.S. I LOVE YOU.

. Pairing: Reader x John Krasinski.

.It contains strong language.

.It contains angst and grieve.

. IF you want you can read this along with the amazing soundtrack from the movie CLICK HERE

NEW HERE? CLICK FOR PART THREE.

(Y/N) POV

"John, did you wrote some of the letters?"

You expect his answer, and at the same time, didn't feel prepared for it.

He walks away to put the empty glass on the sink, and when he stayed there, looking out the window, without saying a word, he said everything.

Your chest clenches like a fist. Your legs retreat towards the living room, where the TV was on without a spectator. Everything else was automatic behind the blur; You, placing the glass, with the untouched water, on the cabinet, grabbing your purse and heading out to the door.

"(Y/N) wait." His steps are right behind yours while you were going down the stairs, agile, but you don't have the velocity on your muscles to make up for it, and because of that, his grip becomes inevitable.

"(Y/N)." He calls again. The blur gets intense, and it pours out of your eyes, along with the confusion. You make it to the pavement, and outside, the daylight was almost over, but the winds were still warm against your skin, warmer on the arm his hand grabbed.

"Look, just let me explain, please." He places himself in front of you, avoiding the next step forward.

"What? What do you want to explain? That you wrote the letters I thought MY husband wrote? Did he even knew about this? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING TO TELL ME?" You are aware of the stares received from strangers passing by. "How can you assume this?" "Gerry is not the type of guy who would quote Edgar Allan Poe, or say things like 'fiasco' or 'idyllic.'"

The hyperventilating John in front of you, with an expression you could only describe as lost. At this point, you could only wish he would stop trying, but he doesn't.

"Maybe he wanted to, intentionally, because of you." You sigh heavily.

"Then why do these letters sound exactly like what you wrote on Denise's birthday card? Why it sounds exactly like the letter you wrote to me before I went to Ireland? The words, the quotes. The ps: I love you, did you wrote it?" Your troath was starting to hurt, as an invisible fist was being gulped down along with tears. "Look, please, lets come inside so we can talk."

"Are you insane? You thought you could take advantage of a situation like this? He was your friend, my husband, what did you think you would be getting out of this?" He tries to reach your arm one more time.

"DON'T, don't touch me. I can't believe this."

"Hear me out, okay? He asked me to do it. Gerry knew, he asked me to help him write the letters for you, believe me, or not, he was getting weaker each day, I couldn't deny."

A third party approaches from the side, switching his attention for a minute. A white, skinny bald man with a red apron holding a baseball bat, which with he is softly beating his open palm, was looking directly at John.

"Everything all right over here?" His eyes narrow, while John's rolled back.

You get stuck for a second, and then a stuttered "Yes." comes out your mouth automatically when you looked at the bat he swung over his shoulder casually. "Are you sure?" He asks again, and you nod. "Yes, I was about to leave, thanks." "(Y/N) Please, can we have this conversation inside? Then if you never want to talk to me again, I will understand. I will quit the job, disappear from your life. I promise." John took over, ignoring the threatening body language of the man, who was now retreating inside the small bakery with a few people watching from inside.   His eyes aimed hopeful towards you, who was swallowing dry. "I don't know if I can believe you, John. Do you know what this is looking like to me?" You watch the hope inside the hazel eyes shift. "I need you to trust me this one last time."

JOHN'S POV

I watch her occupy the space on the couch, and stayed inclined, with her elbows on her knees, as if he was ready to leave at any moment, and I couldn't blame her. I take the spot further away and decide to start talking before she could actually leave. I had to swallow my fears first.

"When Gerry had the idea, I tried to talk it out of him. I really did, but he was firm, stubborn. He wanted at all costs to be here for you even after he was gone, and he would do it with or without me. It was some days before he got really bad, and when he was starting to hit a certain state, I couldn't deny anymore, I just couldn't. As you said, he was not very good at writing about feelings, but he did write some of the letters before I agreed to help him; some other ones I had to finish by myself when he was getting worse." I take a brief pause to search for something on her expression, but only found a could, distant observative glance. "He just needed help, and you weren't supposed to find out any of this, but of course you did. We both counted on you not paying this much attention." 

"(Y/N) It was no secret that we once...You know, felt something for one another in a weird timing, but then you met Gerry, and I respected that. I'm not the type fo guy who pulls schemes or crazy manipulations to get what I want. I'm not the type of guy who would try to benefit from such a situation, and I know that you know that."

She reclines back on the couch, covering her eyes. I could see the wetness on her cheeks. Something seems to dislocate inside of me.

"I have the last letter, and he also left a recording." I get up, aiming towards the bookshelf, trying not to get too concerned about her lack of responses. The letter and the tape, already inside the player, with a piece of paper written 'For (Y/N) only,' were currently where I intentionally placed; behind the book I bought last week with a very fitting title, ' The Last Message Received' from Emily Trunko.

"This one I didn't knew about. He wanted to be only for you. I also haven't heard the recording, mark brought me a couple of days after he died." I collect the items and proceed to stay firm while offering them to her, knowing that the countdown was closer to zero, soon enough she would be out of that door again, and there would be nothing I could do about it. She grabs the tape player first, and then the letter carefully without making eye contact.

"I'm sorry (y/n). I thought I was helping. I really did. I understand how bad it all sounds, but seeing how you were today made me understand why Gerry wanted this." She is quietly staring at the tape player, still holding it on a fist. She presses play, and Gerry's voice filled the room.

"Hey, baby. It looks like you got the last letter, hun? I'm proud of you and less worried because I know I left the best people to care of you for me, so don't be sad and don't look back now. I will always be with you every step of the way, that is why I wrote all these letters, and that is why John helped me with all of them, I know this will sound weird, but I kind of guilt-trip him into doing it, so don't blame him from keeping it from you. He is a good guy, and there was no one else I would ask to help me but someone who understands how it is to love you and also understands about writing you letters. It's okay, I'm not mad you kept his letter, not anymore, at least, but in an ironic way that was my sign, you see, it all worked out the way it was supposed to, don't need to feel weird or guilty. I was lucky enough to have a place in your heart, and I have no regrets. I know you will be strong enough to move on, but I still can't move on without telling you, out loud, that you changed me. You made me a man by loving me, and for that, I'm eternally grateful, literally. You made my life (Y/N), but I'm only a chapter in yours, there will be more. I promise." There are coughs before he could continue. (Y/N) eyes are closed, and her cheeks are becoming wet again.

"So here it comes, the big one. Don't be afraid to fall in love again. I know you will see the signal. I know you will watch out for it when life as you know it ends. P.S: I will always love you."

The recording stops, everything stops, as we both were sitting quietly, only breathing, right then in there I knew she understood, without saying anything else.

I also understood that at some point, Gerry knew she would find out, he expected her to, the tape as proof, proof that he tricked both of us, but the fact that we listened together, that she wanted me to listen along with her was a variant. Now she as also exposed, now I knew she kept the letter i wrote to her before the trip to Ireland, a type of realization that sunk deep like a punch in the stomach, throwing me back into the past violently. 

Everything that I said and meant it on that letter, pouring my heart out, making a promise to wait for her became vivid as if five years was an only illusion as if the past me was woken up again to be in this moment as if his job was to make me restless to shoot the question:

"You kept my letter?"

She moves, still avoiding looking at me. "I keep a lot of things." She is quick.

"Why?" but I was not giving up since there was nothing to give up for, that was it, that was the moment. I feel it in my skin and trusted the vibration running in all directions, the warmth with brought me. She also knew. 

"I waited for you." "I know, but I couldn't, that was why I traveled in the first place." The back of her hand presses over the irritated skin under her eyes once more when another random tear ran down. "You couldn't?" My forearms started to shake slightly and I try to contain myself harder than I have for all of these years, and a feel like a dam, whose walls with cracks were unable to support the force of the water, her force. I was reaching my breaking point only after seeing her marry another guy, only after helping him write her letters, only after hearing her say that she just couldn't, that was the last push.

"When my dad left, I was fourteen, and I said, that's it, never again, no men. Then years later, I meet you. God, I was so scared of how much I wanted you, of how quickly it was and how terrified I was when I all I ever knew was abandonment, with my mom always saying 'that is just how men are' at least ten random times a day. After your letter, I decided to leave, take a break, if you would really wait for me as you said then that was the sign." She smiles randomly while observing the tape player still in her hands, and nervously bite her lips. "Unexpectedly, in Ireland, I met Gerry, and with the little time I had with him, I realized I would never have any control of what would happen, of who would leave me of who would stay. He taught me how to be alive, fearless like him, how not to let my past dictate my future, and even after death he is still teaching me. I will always love him for that. I made my choice without even knowing I made it, and I’m still doing it, but now I know he got into my life for a reason, like a sign, just like you. Do i sound crazy?."

Her voice cracks. 

“No.” I answered catching a tear with my thumb. She smiles and I feel at peace like I haven’t felt for years.

Her wandering hand reaches mine, who was still shaking.

" Are you still waiting?" "Always."

#RomComWC #RCWC #fanfiction #story #p.s. i love you #movie #John Krasinski #writing challenge #john krasinskixreader

[whats-the-story-tc]

4th of February, 2020

"The One with Aphrodite and the Tempest"

[LONG POST WARNING]

You know it's cold outside when V wears a sweater. I swear this woman owns only 3 types of upper body clothing — flannel, striped or something with cats on it, with the occasional something grey.

First time I spotted her before Physics, she was crossing the "bridge" with the relentlessness of a warrior. Here's to another cheery day at school, I thought. I was already tired and half asleep by then and it wasn't even 10 AM yet. Pocketwatch Friend told me to hold on, as we only had 3 more classes left, "two of which you'll enjoy." I don't think I need to specify that one.

Rumours spiralled that, even though we were having double Literature today, V would have us write a previously promised Grammar test. We all started studying in a complete state of panic. What we didn't expect is that, indeed, she was going to quiz us—but in spoken word instead, by the usual rolling of her magic geek dice.

There's this competition between a girl and a boy. He jokingly claims he is better than her at everything, she challenges him. Whichever one of them has better grades at the end of the year wins. V is an absolute fan of this competition, and is pretty vocal about her support for the girl. She was V's first victim today, and when she failed to answer her questions, V, shoulder leaning against the wall, smiles and asks her "How are you gonna win this competition then, babydoll?" Haven't heard her use this pet name for any of us in a hot minute. We're usually fairies or kittens lately. (Pet naming children as a teacher is a thing here folks, don't get alarmed. Our homeroom teacher, for example, calls us her darlings all the time.) Now that I think about it, I don't think she ever called me personally any of these. The day she does is probably the day I die.

Next one up was Know-It-All, who, contrary to his pseudonym, knew fuck all about romanticism, and basically bullshitted his every answer very stupidly, having us all in a laughing fit during those ten minutes he was in the spotlight for. The faces V made were the best, I swear. She tried so hard to be polite and not to say what she thinks, and, in the process, looked at me every half a minute or so like a cry for help. Pocketwatch Friend, who also noticed it and thought it interesting, later explained it as "You're the one who's a bit higher up the intelligence scale out of all of us, of course she looks at you. And you're the one who talks to her." I don't think I was of much help, though. I was giggling the entire time. Especially when V admitted "I have no idea what's going on."

Her third and last victim was Bandana Friend's best friend, and the entire time she listened to her, V was sat in her chair, leaning back, legs crossed, absentmindedly chewing on her pen/holding it to her lips in concentration. When I tell you I could barely keep my calm, I mean it. I'm more attracted to her personality and wit than I am to her visually, but like... holy shit, you guys. The situation only worsened when she started writing on the blackboard, left hand in her back pocket... Thank God she wore a sweater. Were I exposed to that waist of hers, I don't think I'd still be alive to tell the story. "Take your hand out of your pocket," I muttered in agony, through gritted teeth as I watched her. Pocketwatch Friend had a lot of fun at my expense.

We read Edgar Allan Poe's The Masque of the Red Death today, featuring the character of Prince Prospero. V, sitting on top of her desk as she always does, asked us if that name was familiar, and left us a little time to think. Then she looks straight at me with her usual looking-at-me expression and just waits in silence. I'm panicking and probably going red in the face under that gaze that was simply too close, and, with a hand on my chest, nervously asked her "Me? Why are you looking at me?". You guys. Eyes are the first thing I usually notice in a person, the one thing I am a sucker for. And this woman has eyes to live and to die for, unparalleled by anything of this Earth and beyond. Under eyes like that, I think anyone would've struggled to form coherent thoughts. I think I know what Sappho felt when she wrote Fragment 31. As she went on to explain, she was looking at me because there is a character with the same name in Shakespeare's The Tempest. She still associates me with him, it seems. Oh, the nostalgia. Fun fact, Hamlet was the topic of our very first conversation out of class back in October 2018.

In the lunch break, I vented to my friends how I can never really impress her, no matter how hard I try. She and I both know what I know, it just frustrates me that no matter how precise and fancy I get, even then I fuck things up, or miss my chance and I can never surprise her. Turns out I was boo boo the fool. Again.

In The Masque of the Red Death, there's this ongoing motif with the clock striking, which symbolises the coming of Death. As V was talking about this, and how it frightened the guests of the masquerade, I said "I guess you could say their clock was ticking." And what do I know, she not only calls it good, but when I looked at the blackboard, she actually included it in the analysis notes! I said something useful. I was absolutely over the moon.

The Boys in the Back, in their usual mood yet again, were talking non-stop. As I looked at the annoyed V, I could read "for fuck's sake" off her lips before she told them off. Goodbye, V the professional, hello, V the civilian. I had a good laugh.

I don't know how partying came up in conversation, but Blonde Boy in the Back asked V: "Miss, do you go clubbing sometimes?", to which she answered "I'm too old for that". You are still a bloody millenial, dear, stop acting like you're sixty. But, on the topic of old ladies, when we spoke grotesque, scary and bizarre, she brought up having a room full of porcelain dolls or an old lady with a house full of cats, who looks cute on the outside but is quite creepy, I immediately went "Umbridge". At first, I didn't think she heard me, but a few seconds later, she tied what I said into what she was going to say. I feel valid.

Today, we had some rain and incredibly strong winds. "There were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before." As a girl from my class was reading these lines, another strong gust of wind came with a whistling sound, making the windows tremble and everyone went silent. "I think it just arrived." I said immediately. Another strong blow. "[Name], I think you conjured it." I said, and looked at V, leaning over her book, trying not to react, but I think I might have seen the faintest smile run across her face.

Towards the end of the lesson, V told the gang in the back to pass notes instead of talking, to which I said "old school", and she did that thing again where she repeated what I said. Then cats came up once again, I think it was Debate Friend saying that a cat staring at a wall for an hour is creepy. "Cats will stare at a wall for an hour anyway cuz cats are crazy." V said, without missing a beat. I'll have you reminded that V owns a cat herself. And, apparently, a Netflix account, as she mentioned having seen Episode 1 of Moffat's Dracula with the boyfriend yesterday. May I just say... couple goals.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

#tc #tcc #teacher crush community #female tc #female teacher crush

[theparanormalperiodical]

Is Stephen King's IT Based On A True Story? The 7 Real Life Stories of Evil Clowns

With autumn just around the corner, that can only mean one thing: Halloween season is finally upon us!

But you can snort your pumpkin spices and layer your scarves all you want. There’s only one thing I am in anticipation for this autumn.

It’s the horror flicks.

Every October, a chaotic mix of horror films hit the cinemas, leaving us paranormal fanatics spoilt for choice.

But only when you cut out the rushed screen time plays that were written purely to coincide with the most wonderful time of the year, that is.

I’m not here to talk about crap, however.

I’m not here to bitch about clunky jumpscares, and the movies with more holes in a plot than in your prep school tights (“Mum, they’re fine!”).

I’m here to talk about IT Chapter 2.

The IT sequel – alongside Stephen King’s other horror hits – is set to complete one of the cinema phenomenons of this decade, and its influence on pop culture is just one echo of the incredible story the movies tell.

If you’ve been trapped in the sewers with Pennywise for the last 27 years, let alone the Clown Craze that’s followed us in and out of cinemas, here’s a quick rundown of the book/film:

A rag-tag group of misfits start noticing odd patterns in their small town. Namely, kids start to go missing. And this tends to happen roughly every 30 years, just like clockwork. Cue some freaky shenanigans evoked by an evil entity who is represented by an image of a clown/whatever you fear, and here we are.

Now, the book/films sits on this 27-years rule. It’s set between when they were young, and when they were several decades older and once again face It.

We last see It half kinda dying (but if there’s a sequel y’all know that’s BS) in the midst of the 1980s. And the new film brings us screeching back to the phenomenon that is once again haunting Derry. 

Like I said – and as you will well remember – when the last flick came out, there was a Clown Craze. There was this cultural obsession, even a criminal wave using clown masks and attire to scare the innocent bypassers. Viral videos were scored with Pennywise-esque thumbnails.

(I’m pretty sure I even went a club night that was clown themed…)

So, it got me thinking: have evil clowns ever actually existed? Has anything ever emulated the character that titled one of Stephen King’s most famous books?

Unfortunately – in more than one case – the answer is yes.

Why does the answer have to be ‘yes’.

In today’s edition of the Paranormal Periodical we are going to be discussing why we all hate clowns, the cases of actual evil clowns, and urban legends that echo these cases.

Let’s get spooky.

Why are we so afraid of clowns?

I’m pretty sure that no one in the history of ever has liked clowns. In fact, that’s actually a key part of the book.

Pennywise supposedly thinks children love clowns, and that it will entice them so he can take them away for his feeding purposes.

And believe it or not, Stephen King wasn’t the first guy to write an evil clown into literature.

Clourophobia – or the fear of clowns – is a common phobia, and has been played upon since the 19th century by the king of horror himself, Edgar Allan Poe.

And only a decade before King published It in the 1970s, several mock comic books hit the stores with ‘Evil Clown’ blaring across the cover. ‘Frenchy the Clown’ as he was known might not be the malovalent entity that is core to King’s novel, but he does echo the dark themes we pick so easily out with clowns.

Even academics have outlined our unease when it comes to these supposedly comical figures.

The University of Sheffield did a study which confirmed this universal fear of clowns today.

In particular, they deduced that children don’t like clowns as they are unknowable. The thick layers of makeup, the potential threat that could be disguised by jokes and silly clothing.

And why wouldn’t they be?

*Ok, this has nothing to do with like spooky shit but can I just air my thoughts right why and how do clowns exist now like surely we teach kids not to talk to strangers who act weird and you don’t know and that’s literally the purpose of clowns and like yall can say I’m a trigger libtard whatever but a lot of the basis to clown makeup must be based on blackface look at the lips and the hair or even trying to mock disabled people by how they act*

Even academic figures lie Wolfgang M. Zucker take this point further. Zucker claims there are strong similarities between clown figures and the cultural depiction of demons and other terrifying creatures.

Deathly white faces, the freakish features.

This is what makes Pennywise the Dancing Clown such a standout character.

And it’s also what makes the following real-life stories of evil clowns quite so distressing.

Here are the 7 cases of Evil Clowns that you have to hear about:

This might be the Paranormal Periodical, but there is nothing supernatural here. And its probably the lack of ghost-based legend that makes these evil clowns so like Stephen king’s iconic character.

And we start with probably the most horrific case: John Wayne Gacy, aka Pogo or Patches the Clown.

From 1972 to 1978, John Wayne Gacy murdered, tortured, and raped over 30 underage and young adult men. Most of the bodies were buried around his home, and some were even disposed in a nearby river.

He even made plans to fill the crawlspace in his home – where he had crammed over 20 corpses – with concrete and essentially make a new mass grave on top of it.

This twisted and depressing tale carries further into the innocent image his community impressed upon him.

Gacy frequently performed as his clown alter-egos at local parties, charity events, and at children’s hospitals. Even outside of this, he met a First Lady, was active in politics, and was even awarded the title of Precinct Captain for his services to the community.

And if all this wasn’t terrible enough, the reasoning behind his clowning days further darken his tale:

Gacy claims his clown alter-ego allowed him to regress into his childhood which was fraught with emotional and physical abused from his father.

And so, the ‘Killer Clown’ label has been bestowed upon this case.

Interested in hearing more? Check out the full story here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Wayne_Gacy

Our next evil clown doesn’t stray too far from the predatory behaviour of John Wayne Gacy.

The man behind Klutzo The Clown – A. Paul Carlock – was charged with the possession of child pornography and of child molestation back in 2007.

Like Gacy, he was a force within the community, working as a police officer and a volunteer for the Big Brothers/Big Sisters scheme. It was even noted when he was alive that he had a fondness for children.

In fact, he was categorised as a ‘Christian clown’ before the accusations were brought to light.

He was hired as a police officer in 1973, yet they only found evidence (pictures on his laptop when he returned from an overseas trip) in 2007.

Upon finding the evidence of his predatory and paedophilic behaviour, he immediately began to show signs of illness, dying 39 days after his arrest. And its for this reason that his case is seen in a different light to mine.

The disgusting details tend to be overlooked as his death brought in a lawsuit regarding whether he was neglected and mistreated after his arrest.

Following on from this, we have Martin Evanick.

His clown alter ego, Vlad, certainly expressed a killer-clown vibe synonymous with Pennywise, but it seems his intentions didn’t actually stray to far from the character he sought to emulate.

This metal-band drummer pleaded guilty in 2013 to creating child pornography. He was also found prior to this to be a child molester and rapist.

Another clown to fit the bill of evil is actually a relatively recent case.

Back in 1990, a woman opened the door to a clown who promptly handed her balloons and a floral gift.

The clown then proceeded to shoot her, leaving her for dead.

For 27 years, there was no answer for this bizarre and deadly attack.

Well, until now, that is. Sheila Keen was charged with first-degree murder. She married the husband of the victim, and the later developed DNA evidence provided the key to the case.

Unfortunately, evil clowns don’t always act alone.

And it’s these next cases that vouch for this.

Across many countries in the last few years we have witnessed random groups of people dressed as clowns or donning clown masks who chase, harass, and even attack innocent people seemingly in broad daylight.

One of the most documented cases of this is actually from France. Back in 2014, the French were apparently terrorised by a group of clowns who physically attacked anyone who just so happened to get in their way.

One of these clowns was arrested for beating a pedestrian with an iron bar whilst clad in a clown costume.

A student even had a severe cut to his hand whilst defending themselves from a clown wielding a axe, and Schoolchildren were eve chased down the street by a clown following close behind with a chainsaw.

Shit bro.

But it was only in 2016 that the phenomenon was fully realised.

The 2016 Clown Sightings – which even feature on Wikipedia, now – summarise the frequent reports of people disguised as evil clowns.

However, as this is evidently a broad case, we cannot pinpoint the extent or nature of the ‘evil’.

For some it appears a practical joke, possibly even playing on the build up to the 2017 release of IT.

But the original cases have actually been traced back to 2013, from which a creepy clown was spotted in Northhampton. It was eventually found out to have been created by filmmakers to drive up traffic and fame for their Facebook page. In fact, they used the ‘sightings’ to evoke the fame they sought.

From scary clown pranks littering Youtube, to urban legends feeding on upvotes from Reddit, it appears it has not been grouped as an ‘evil’ or ‘criminal’ set of occurrences.

Even on October 25, news outlets in the US reported on threats of a potential ‘purge-like’ event carried out by clowns on Halloween. The only attack resembling this – which I assume was merely a hoax – was an attack carried out by 20 people in clown masks on a family in Florida.

No arrests were made.

There were many cases in the UK, but these only amounted to petty crimes, threats, and scaring people passing by.

But the widespread nature of it certainly confirms it as a phenomenon. 80 percent of US states witnessed this phenomenon, and the Wikipedia page is crawling with country-by-country listings of ‘killer-clown’ cases.

Do you remember the Clown Craze?

And do you have a personal tale to share about any creepy ass clowns?

Make sure you let me know!

#it #it chapter 2 #it 2017 #it 2019 #it part 2 #it movie #Stephen king it #scary clowns #halloween #clowns #cloyne #horror #horror movies #spooky stories #ghost stories #murderers #criminal cases #scary stories #real ghost stories #real life ghost stories #john wayne gacy #pogo the clown #patches the clown #pennywise #Stephen king #based on true events #based on a true story #horror films #ghosts #demons

[lucifers-trash-stash]

Run From Me: Chapter Six

Summary: There aren’t many solutions to escape becoming a member of The Mad Titan Thanos’ harem. All you can try to do is to run and pray he doesn’t find you.

Word Count: 3,352

Chapter Warnings: Some violence

Run From Me Masterlist

After seeing Thanos yesterday, I’d been on autopilot for the whole day. When I ate breakfast with Elsy, Tuella, and Aphua, I listened to Elsy clamour away about whatever was on her mind while nodding politely and eating my food, not really taking anything in. Tuella seemed to notice my distant attitude and offered me a small smile, but ultimately left me be. 

I told them goodbye, and for the first time in a long while, I wandered back to my room. I flopped on top of the covers, laying there and staring up at the ceiling. I hated being in this room during the day, but now I took comfort in it. It made me feel like a prisoner, yet also kept me hidden from those that might want to talk to me. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone; I needed to think. 

Closing my eyes, I stretched out my limbs on the bed, grounding myself. I still wasn’t certain how I truly felt about Thanos. It was a confusing mess; one minute I felt hot and bothered, and another minute I felt scared and hopeless. I crave his touch along my cheek, but his stare yesterday reminded me just how powerful Thanos was. He could murder me without a second thought. What if I didn't give him what he wanted? What was stopping him from going back on his word that he wouldn't hurt me?

No matter how I put it in my mind, I kept returning to that conclusion. That no matter what kindness he gave me, he still had so much more authority and influence under the surface. The fact that many of his women refuse to leave their rooms for fear of his might was proof enough of that. 

And yet… why did he still fascinate me? As afraid as I was, I was morbidly curious about him. He was intelligent, and a part of me wanted to pick his brain, try to figure out why he is the way that he is. Another part was interested in knowing how sex with him felt like. I wasn’t a virgin, I knew a few things. But how did he compensate for smaller partners? It was probably much more than simply a tight fit, and I almost wished Elsy had gone into more detail about his… attentiveness. That way I wouldn’t be sitting here spending my time thinking about it and further digging myself deeper into the hole of my embarrassing carnal desire for him. 

I rubbed my palms against my eyes, trying to focus on something else. My thoughts ran back to the Edgar Allan Poe book in my bag. I was so flustered yesterday that I hadn’t bothered opening it back up. How could I focus on such grim prose when all I could think about were Thanos’ eyes? His cool, grey eyes. 

Sighing, I sat up in bed and began to pace around the room. I really wasn’t sure what I was doing, mostly just trying to keep my mind occupied. Wandering over to the window, I stared outside. The vast expanse of the universe always interested me as a child, but I’d never imagined actually being out in the thick of it and certainly not being captured by the Mad Titan that wanted to cull it. With my forehead pressed against the cool glass, I let my eyes glaze over for a moment as I took it all in.

A knock at my door yanked me out of my daydream, and I shook my head to pull myself together. I inhaled deeply, fully expecting a guard to be standing outside and requesting for me to see Thanos in his room. But when I opened the door, it was a much smaller and more petite figure. 

In the doorway, Aphua stared at me expectantly through her sapphire blue hair. Her shawl today was a dark turquoise, hiding her body underneath. I often wondered if she was naturally cold-natured or if she just preferred these clothes. 

After a brief moment of awkward silence, I realized I should probably say something. “Oh, Aphua, how are you doing? What’s up?” I asked.

Before answering, her hands emerged from her shawl, holding a small parcel in her hands. She held it out, pushing it towards me and into my hands. Confused, I peeled the fabric back, revealing a half sandwich and a few slices of ripe Yaro root. 

My brow furrowed, and I looked up at Aphua. Before I could ask what this was for, she said, “You missed lunch. I didn’t want you to go hungry.”

I blinked. It barely felt like any time had passed since I came to my room. Had I really missed lunch? Aphua’s silver-eyed gaze didn’t seem to me like she was lying, so I figured I really must have spent all that time spacing out and doing nothing. 

“Thank you,” I told her, giving her a grateful smile. Aphua’s head tilted down to look at the floor, but I could have sworn I saw a small smile on her lips as well. She left without another word, and I watched as she shuffled back down the hall and out of sight. 

Closing the door behind me, I took a bite of the sandwich. Nothing like an Earth sandwich since it was Gordgan meat instead of ham and cheese or egg salad, but close enough. What I wouldn’t give for a bag of Doritos or a juicy, greasy McDonald’s burger or even a nice bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup from my mother. That last thought made me sad, so I ate my sandwich and turned my attention to my bag. 

Setting the rest of the food on my bed with the sandwich still clenched between my teeth, I pulled out one of my journals. I plucked the photo of my family out of the pages and propped it up on my sheets so I could look at it. Mulling over the memories in my journal, I took another pensive bite. It helped to reread the images of the past even as much as writing them down did. They were more real that way, more at the forefront of my mind. Trying to imagine what my father would say to me in this situation. After a moment of turning that thought over in my mind, I realized that he probably wouldn’t have a good answer for how to deal with simultaneously hating and lusting after a giant purple behemoth that would put Andre the Giant to shame. Mom probably wouldn’t be much better, and I smirked at imagining her trying to come up with solutions like she always did. No problem is too big, she’d always tell me, it can be broken down into smaller pieces and dealt with that way. 

Perhaps it was an issue of breaking things down into smaller components. I bit into a ripened Yaro root slice. Thanos was one big issue that could be dealt with in smaller ways. Keeping on his good side was one way. Would it be easier to deal with him if I obeyed him, gave him what he wanted? Right now I was still untrustworthy, and it seemed he had an eye on my every move. 

With a huff, I fell back against the bed and threw an arm over my eyes. I didn’t want to consider that was my only possibility of getting out of here. But what else was there? If I put my head down and did what I was told, he would eventually ignore me for long enough time for me to plan an escape. Except that wasn’t me.

I let myself drift for a while, letting my mind take me to other places. Every fluttering of my eyes opening and then closing again felt like minutes instead of hours. A serene calmness swept over my limbs, and I laid there, floating out in an empty space. 

I wasn’t sure what had woken me out of my stupor. Out of nowhere, sudden inspiration flit across my mind and I shot up in bed. I stared into space, suddenly aware of what needed to be done. I couldn’t sit here like this, trying to decide what I should or shouldn’t do. I needed to act. I had to find out once and for all where the escape pods were kept. That would be the first step in a series of many steps I would have to take before I could get out of here. If I didn’t do this now, I would forever continue to make excuses as to why I couldn’t.

Quickly slipping on my boots and throwing my jacket on and my bag over my shoulder, I crept to the door and poked my head out into the hallway. Not a soul was roaming outside, so I slipped through and shut the door behind me quietly. Trying to compose myself, I took a few deep breaths before making my way toward where I knew the restricted area was. It was the only place on my map that I hadn’t plotted out so that had to be where all of the important planet destruction activities went on.

I knew there was a chance I would be caught almost instantly, but I was going to take the risk. It was better than what Thanos could do to me if I stayed. Seeing his simmering rage was something I never wanted to experience again. Even if he didn’t, just knowing the possibility that he could easily hurt me was something I didn’t want to chance. Immediate death is better than a lifetime of mistreatment.

After a few more winding passageways, I was here. The cut off point. No one was around this particular hallway, but I knew that what lies beyond would be crawling with Chitauri and other assortments of alien guards. I had to be stealthy, which I had become accustomed to in my many years of planetary travel. But while that was easy to do when those environments were rich with foliage to blend into and other nooks and crannies, that was rather hard to do on a massive ship with long, smooth hallways with no places to hide. I just had to pray that I wouldn’t get caught before I could sneak into one of the control rooms. 

As I slowly proceeded, I made mental notes of which passages I was taking so I could log them in for later. If there was a later. At this point it was do or die, and I had to keep my wits about me now. 

Soft talking came from somewhere behind me, and my body began to tense up. It would be a matter of time before they turned the corner and found me. Frantically, I pushed the entry buttons on the doors that lined the walls, but all were locked and wouldn’t budge. Fuck! I had barely accomplished anything!

I didn’t want it to end like this. Against my better judgement, I scurried a bit quicker down the hallway, continuously looking over my shoulder for the source of the voices. I kept slamming the buttons for each door I walked past, but nothing happened. My heartbeat was deafening in my ears, and I tried my best to focus, but to no avail. 

Hoping to hide behind the corner of the next hallway, I quickly turned without checking to see if the coast was clear. That’s when I slammed against an armored chest, gasping and trying to scramble backwards. But it was too late, and a hand gripped my wrist tightly, causing me to wince. 

Two Chitauri guards stood before me, leering down at my form. I knew that the Chitauri were a merciless species, eager for any opportunity to torture, maim, and slaughter anyone that stood in their way. Trembling, I watched in horror as the one that held me spoke in chitters, “Where do you think you’re going, whore?”

“I’m not a whore!” I sputtered, trying desperately to regain control of myself for long enough to get out of this mess. “I just turned down the wrong hallway was all! You expect me to figure out where I’m going when the hallways are a fucking labyrinth!?”

The other Chitauri guard scoffed. “You shouldn’t be getting lost in the first place. Your only job is to spread your-”

“Don’t you fucking say it you piece of shit!” I grunted as I tried pulling away - failing again - and driving the heel of my foot against his ankle. His boots were armored though, so the effort was futile. 

He began to say something more, but another voice interrupted, “You’ve become quite predictable, haven’t you?”

The three of us turned our attention towards Maw, who slowly approached from an entryway behind the guards. My eyes widened as I gazed inside, realizing just how close I was to some sort of control room. Thanos was nowhere to be found, but it was obvious from the aliens at their respective stations and the technology lining the walls that this was one of the many control rooms that would be required to power such a massive vessel. I would have been more in awe of the set up if I wasn’t in this predicament. 

“We found one of the Lord’s whores wandering around,” the guard that held me spoke up, shaking my wrist as I struggled to regain my balance. 

“I can clearly see that,” Maw coldly snapped as he narrowed his eyes at the two guards. “Let her go. You’ve already tossed her around enough and if you do any more she will receive bruises. I don’t think I have to remind either of you what happened to the last guard that left bruises on his property?”

Without hesitation, the guard released me from his tight hold, but I was about to stumble backwards from tugging away too hard. I braced myself for an impact against the ground, but instead I felt a force hold my back steady and straighten me up, no doubt Maw’s doing. 

“But we must return her to-”

“I’ll take care of it. I wouldn’t trust the two of you to transport her safely considering how you manhandle someone who could hardly be perceived as a thinking organism, let alone a threat.” The two guards exchanged chastised glances before following their orders and walking back to the control room, leaving me alone with Maw. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” I said, attempting casualness with a lopsided smile, trying to weasel my way out of more reprimands. I should have known better.

Unamused, Maw laced his fingers in front of himself, looking down at me. “My patience with you wears thin, Terran.” His hands then unclasped, one sliding down my back as he urged me to move, pushing me back down the hallway from where I’d come from. The action and his touch sickened me, and I shrugged his hand away as soon as he allowed me to. 

“For a woman who is constantly spouting off that she can take care of herself,” Maw began, using his power to make my legs stop and therefore focus my attention entirely on him. His fingers brushed against my cheek, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. “You play the damsel in distress rather well.”

“Do not,” I spat at him.

“Really?” His voice drawled in a hum. “Because it seems that through our each and every encounter, you’re constantly needing help. And we provide it to you because we understand how difficult it must be to adjust here.” Maw leaned closer, his head dipping down towards mine. I flinched instinctively, but with his hand gently gripping my chin - careful not to leave bruises - I couldn’t pull away very far. Trying to throw off his magic was just as futile. As if I were an amoeba under a microscope, he tilted his head to the side as he stared down at me dispassionately. “But there will come a time, Terran, when our kindness will dry up. Your little games will cease to be amusing, and Lord Thanos will punish you accordingly. As he should have done far sooner.”

Maw suddenly let me free from his grasp, and I stumbled back a few steps before regaining my footing. With a snide smile crawling up his lips, he glanced down at me and continued, “I certainly think he will. Before this you were just a nuisance, but now you were trying to escape. Perhaps I should tell you of what Thanos does to those who try to run?”

My heart thudded harshly in my chest as I tensed up. I had fucked up bad this time. I could only hope Thanos’ punishment was swift, so I might be able to quickly recover and come up with a better plan than the idiotic one I had just tried to enact. What was I thinking, running around blind? In the moment it seemed rational, but with Maw and his smug grin staring me down, I knew this was the dumbest decision I could have made. 

After regarding my expression for a moment more, he turned away and my legs were suddenly back in my power. I shifted slightly as Maw gestured with his finger to follow him. “Come along now. The longer you stand there silently dreading your Lord’s punishment, the longer it will take to atone for your pitiful attempts at fleeing.”

I trailed behind him, staring daggers into his hands, held behind his back. “At least I tried.” 

Maw scoffed. “If you call strutting straight into a guard infested location ‘trying’ then I suppose you did accomplish that which was otherwise a failure.” Out of the corner of his eye, he looked over his shoulder at me. “Really, do you Terrans truly believe that struggling in a hopeless situation is commendable? Fate is inevitable, Terran, you will do well to learn that fairly quickly, lest you fall into more trouble than you are worth.”

I held my tongue. There was no point in answering him. I had lost. I had to accept that fact and move forward. Otherwise Maw would be happy to stand there and berate me even further. I suppose in a way I had to take his advice. There was nothing left for me to do except to keep my head down, get my punishment from Thanos, and move on from there.

When we arrived at Thanos’ room, Maw almost walked right in without knocking, so giddy with the idea of tattling on me that he almost forgot his own strict manners. He ushered me forth beside him, and I saw Thanos turn in his chair to glance at the two of us. He sat up in a more formal position as we stopped before him at a respectful distance, his stern glance bearing its weight down on me. 

“My Lord,” Maw began, drawing Thanos’ gaze to his subordinate. “I regret to inform you that I found your newest acquisition attempting to leave our ship.”

I tried to choke back a snort. Regret, my ass. Overjoyed, more likely.

Thanos’ steely eyes returned to me. He assessed me for a moment, before finally speaking. “Well?” He asked expectantly, “Does Maw speak the truth?”

I forced myself to lock my gaze with his in challenge. “Yes, Master, he is correct.” I spat the word at him, trying to make my displeasure clear. 

Thanos inhaled deeply for a moment. Without looking away from me, he ordered in a firm tone, “Thank you, Maw. You may be excused. My human pet and I are to have a short discussion alone.”

Even though I was watching Thanos carefully, I could almost sense the smile that curled along Maw’s face as he turned and swiftly exited the room. As the door clicked shut behind me with a foreboding finality, I felt the dread begin to settle in my gut.

I was alone with the Mad Titan, and I had no idea what he would do with me.

#run from me #thanos #thanos x oc #thanos x ofc #thanos fanfiction #thanos fanfic #my fanfiction

[chicagoindiecritics]

New from Jeff York on The Establishing Shot: ROBERT EGGERS’ PSYCHOLOGICAL THRILLER “THE LIGHTHOUSE” CHARTS A COURSE FOR MADNESS

Original caricature by Jeff York of Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe in THE LIGHTHOUSE. (copyright 2019)

Filmmaker Robert Eggers reminds me of Edgar Allan Poe. His movies are filled with gloom and doom and madness. Like Poe, Eggers too fancies dramatizing the horror of confined spaces, bullheaded protagonists, and compulsive behavior. In THE WITCH, a stubbornly religious family’s pride kept them from seeing all the tempestuous goings-on around their 1630s farmhouse until it was too late, and the devil took ahold of each of them. In THE LIGHTHOUSE, a prideful man lets the tempestuous goings-on at a remote lighthouse on the eastern seaboard slowly but surely drive him to madness. Poe would be very proud.

THE LIGHTHOUSE, co-written by Eggers and his brother Max, is set in the 1890s and starts with two new lighthouse attendants shipping into a remote island to man the lighthouse there. Thomas Wake (Willem Dafoe) is the gruff and bushy-bearded veteran, while Ephraim Winslow (Robert Pattinson) is a walrus-mustached newbie. They’re there to replace another male duo who just finished a three-month stint. The four men cross each other, two coming up the hill, two going down it, saying nothing to each other, like ships passing in the night. The symbolism is exceedingly clever.

Immediately upon getting there, Wake takes charge, instructing Winslow on what his tasks are and most of it is the most awful kind of menial labor. Winslow must haul all their supplies, clean the small cottage where they’re staying, and even carry the buckets filled with their feces and urine down the hill each morning. At one point he even has to paint the lighthouse, precariously hanging from a few ropes being held by Wake. It doesn’t end well.

Wake, on the other hand, hogs all the important jobs. Only he is allowed in the top of the lighthouse, and he takes charge at mealtime too, cooking whatever he sees fit to feed them. At first, Winslow struggles just to get used to the schedule, the chilly weather, and all the different odd jobs he must manage each day. He’s not fond of Wake’s bossiness or bluster, nor his tendency towards flatulence, but the young man nonetheless tries to connect with him as friends. They share some tales, sing some sea chanteys together, and compare their pasts.

It turns out Winslow has had all kinds of vocations, none lasting more than a few months, and a history of never staying in one place very long. Wake chalks it up to Winslow’s youthful immaturity, but there’s something more to it. Winslow’s demeanor would suggest a strong anti-authoritarian streak, and very likely, a history of violence to go along with it.

Winslow resists Wake’s attempts to get him to drink more and more, as it’s clear he has trouble holding his liquor.  But he caves, and the more Winslow drinks, the more his mind starts to run away with all kinds of paranoia and suspicion. What goes on up at the top of the lighthouse becomes an obsession with the young man as he imagines all sorts of crazy things. He even imagines Wake having sex with some sort of tailed sea monster up there while manning the light. 

Soon enough, the job, the resentment, and the enclosed spaces all start to get to Winslow. Making matters worse each day is how Wake barks his orders and constantly reminds Winslow of his lower station. The younger man doesn’t like being treated like a lackey and his rage boils. His drinking accelerates, his imagination runs wild, and soon enough, he’s completely losing his grip. Is that an actual mermaid he sees splayed out on the rocks, beckoning him for sex? Are the seagulls purposely tormenting him? And is the inclement weather pinning them down inside just happenstance, or is it the work of a vengeful God or even the devil who wants to drive them mad in their inescapable claustrophobia?

In many ways, the story reminds one of Poe’s THE TELL-TALE HEART, and indeed Eggers did make a short film of that legendary story in 2008. Here, the old man with the eye is replaced by Wake, whose crotchety style, grunting, and farting start to grate on Winslow’s nerves. Their surroundings become a prison to Winslow and soon enough he even imagines Wake wanting to kill him. For a job that supplies light for passing ships, Winslow’s world gets darker and darker.

This is a two-hander essentially, as the mermaid (a bewitching and comely Valeriia Karaman) is only seen fleetingly during some of Winslow’s fever dreams, and the two men are exceptional. Dafoe can do macho bluster in his sleep, but here he pushes his performance to the edge of being irritating, showing a man who isn’t aware of just how selfish he’s become over the years. His performance is funny, sometimes monstrous, and always fascinating. 

Pattinson, employing a heavy east coast accent, knows how to brood and glower like he has a master’s degree in it, but here, he’s more vulnerable than he’s ever been. His unraveling is very gradual, and it’s a superbly calculated performance from the first second to last. And yet, through it all, he keeps us hoping for the best for him. In fact, your heart will break a little as he goes madder and madder. 

One does wish that Eggers had expanded his comfort zone as much as his two leads. As he did in THE WITCH, he proves he’s an excellent filmmaker who knows how to light, write, and pull great performances out of his cast. Eggers knows how to build dread and create bizarre tableaus to terrify an audience. Still, he is a touch too restrained, showing an artist’s elegance even when he’s showing a pile of dead fish. At times, you wish he’d go a little mad too, lose some of the restraint, the “just-so” of his framing. 

It’s great that Eggers fancies darker material and he’s expert at creating psychological horror that showcases man as monsters that far eclipse any in the sea or on land. Eggers is very much a modern-day Poe, but one who could stand to show a little more of that writer’s madness. Eggers’ movies are exquisite; he just needs to let ‘em rip more. 

from The Establishing Shot https://ift.tt/2oHHOSp via IFTTT

from WordPress https://ift.tt/2MqT2DR via IFTTT

#IFTTT #WordPress #CIFCC #film critics #movies #film #Chicago

[calleo-bricriu]

Sometimes I start to think I might read a little too much.

So, I found this particular Muggle author in one of those, "It looked weird on the shelf and why not?" sort of ways that I often find books in Muggle shops.

Did a little bit of digging in to the author, William Lee Howard; apparently he was a fairly widely disrespected doctor that most other doctors viewed as a joke but that people who were not doctors thought was somehow brilliant.

Off to a good start.

The majority of the guy's books have to do with--not so much medical things but more, "Why everything is your wife's fault, trust me, I'm a doctor,” and by occasionally shouting in text about how he’s not a quack.

There were also two aimed at teenagers and I found a few chapter names completely self aware in one of them:

"Self-Abuse--How to Stop it--The Quacks" - Written as though he wasn't one.

"Environments and Diseases Which Rust Brain-Tools" - I'm going to start using Brain-Tools, I don't care that it's ridiculous. I like it because it's ridiculous.

Anyway, onto the book I'm mostly through.

It's the only one he published that wasn't--well, probably wasn't--intended to be some kind of medical book and it's the first one he had published.

No, it’s a story. A rambling, poorly written story.

The Perverts, 1901.

It's a bit difficult to read, not because it's as shocking as claimed but, because this guy just...rambles in a horribly disjointed manner that makes it difficult to follow what the hell is going on in his little story.

But, fine, I've read worse, just needs more focus; about halfway through, I stopped because it struck me that I've read this before.

Not this book specifically, the story, the entire plot, only the version I've read, while still written by a prose-y, rambling whackjob, was coherent and had much better flow to it.

Also, you could pretty easily follow the plot, as flimsy as it was.

In fairness, that one also probably could have been accurately titled The Perverts but there's always been a lot of unnecessary filler and prose in de Sade's writing (and he was at least self aware to the point that the last page of one of them essentially invites you to throw the book into the fire if you found reading it unenjoyable; tempting, but it's a heavy book and makes a good paperweight).

This man clearly read Justine (or The Misfortunes of Virtue) at some point; some similarities between bizarre things like that are bound to happen, pun intended given the topic, but this? This was very close to being the exact same book, just with renamed characters and a different time period setting.

de Sade wrote his in two weeks while in prison (and it shows) and this idiot somehow made it worse in terms of readability.

Oh, and the dedication? "To the memory of Edgar Allan Poe as a tribute to his genius, and in recognition of his struggles with a psychic incubus."

Okay.

I'm most amused by the fact that his last book was a book on "how to live long" and he died before he was 60. Must not be very good advice in that book.

And then I started skimming his other books and this has got to be one of the most unintentionally funny things I've read in awhile, "It has been my fortune――for so I consider it――to have been brought into intimate relations with men who are failures."

Good way to start.

"Many of these despondent and useless men have been guided into places where they fit." He's stopped using his brain-tools and it's not even chapter 8, which is where he talks about not letting your brain-tools get rusty.

(( Just a warning, there’s a short excerpt from the book that has some very literally, direct, and violent homophobia in there. ))

"teachers forced much useful and also useless stuff into unwilling brain cells" - I'm not entirely sure a man who blatantly ripped off one of de Sade's shortest works should be speaking poorly of teachers.

"How frequently have I heard the remark, after explaining to a young man who came to me a complete failure: “Why didn’t my father see all this?”" - You know, at this point, I'm almost certain that the only patients he'd ever seen were ones he made up or, more likely, ripped off from other case files and just changed the names.

"THE OUTSIDE LUNGS――THE SKIN" ...no.

He seems to think the skin does the same thing as the liver? What in the hell kind of medical school did this man attend?

"If a healthy boy should have his body――up to his neck――wrapped in tin foil, or any similar substance which would completely close the pores of the skin, he would soon have headache. This would become very severe, followed by loss of consciousness and finally convulsions――fits followed by death. Now this would occur even if he were in the open air. You can see by this fact that the lungs cannot alone cast off the poisons in the body" - First, weirdly specific scenario. Second, what he's describing is heat stroke not poisoning.

If people were listening to ridiculousness like this and taking it as valid health advice, no wonder so many died before they hit 30. I just went through an entire chapter of this idiot explaining how the skin is the body's main detox organ with only passing mention to things like, you know, your liver and kidneys, and that everything is caused by your dumb ass poisoning yourself by not bathing three times a day, constantly drinking water, then "exercising violently".

"Now it may sound funny to you, but the truth is, that if the boys in the past had really known as much as the chipmunks, we should have very few asylums for the insane or hospitals for the horrible diseases." - At this point I'm starting to wonder if I'm actually reading this or if I'm hallucinating it.

"About fourteen years of age you may feel a gradual soreness in the nipples. This will increase and sometimes be a little annoying. Now don’t become frightened and try to recall some blow you have received there." - This feels like a very, very specific panic that I'm pretty sure only happened to the author.

"Of course the HABIT of self-abuse means ruin to both brain and body. It is degrading to your true self, causes a loss of self-respect and makes a coward of every boy and man." - I get the feeling, by this point, that everything this person writes is just projecting.

"[...] bubbling spring of manly life." No.

"So never sleep with a man, except your father." - How is that less weird?

And we go from, go ahead and sleep with your dad to, "If you should be so situated that you find yourself in bed with a man, keep awake with your eyes on something you can hit him with. At the slightest word or act out of the way, HIT him; hit him so hard that he will carry the scar for life."

Just sleep on the floor if you're that damn paranoid.

"Keep your goat by and in you always." ...what? There are no circumstances whatsoever that would result in me wanting any part of a goat in me.

"CHAPTER VIII ENVIRONMENTS AND DISEASES WHICH RUST BRAIN-TOOLS" - I'm definitely stealing brain-tools. Based on everything else, I'm pretty sure mine are considered rusty somehow.

I don't think I'd take advice about brain-tools from someone who spent entire paragraphs talking about how he thinks people who live in far Northern climates hibernate.

What else have we got here? Dance hall women will ruin your life, you might be a man but you'll be a MAN in big letters if you go into the navy somehow, the navy should be bigger so it can consume more lower case men--I guess that makes sense as this was written in 1911.

"Don’t think that you know more than your mother about what is best for you. You don’t." - Wow, okay.

"I saw the girl, or rather woman, when she was twenty-four years of age, and recognized her by the peculiar conformation of her face. It was the face of a girl giggler. Her facial muscles had become so developed by her uncontrolled girlish habit that nothing could be done for her. " - What on earth is the "face of a giggler"?

"Don’t kiss anyone but your mother and father." - ???

"Don’t use arsenic in any form for your complexion or to give your face a plump appearance. Some of you will tell me of a girl you know who has a nice plump face from the use of arsenic wafers." - Maybe don't eat rat poison. Eating rat poison seems like a bad idea just in general.

Apart from don't giggle, don't kiss anyone, and don't take arsenic what is wrong with you? The entire book aimed at women seems to be a lot of, "For the love of everything don't touch ANYTHING without wearing gloves and also maybe burn your gloves every night and just use new ones the next day, the world is made of filth and full of diseased people. Try to stay outside in the sun without touching anything instead."

Interesting to read in the context of not having vaccinations available for all of the diseases mentioned; I don't know why it bothers me to see tuberculosis written as consumption though but I DO know why it bothers me that this idiot keeps saying sunlight will cure all of those diseases.

It really won't, you'll just die in a brightly lit room instead of a dark one.

"Don’t try to keep awake either by mental effort or that injurious resort of drinking coffee." - Well, I've been failing at that since I was about 15.

"Sleep always alone. Sleeping with another person is unsanitary." - ...uh huh.

"The hair should be washed frequently in water with a little powdered borax, but remember you wash the hair only to clean the scalp, nothing should be applied to the hair directly."  - Borax is corrosive, and how in the hell do you clean your scalp without also getting something on your hair, you can't just remove your hair and put it back later.

"Cold baths will keep your flesh firm and hard; will take off fat if you are too fat, and put on flesh if you are too lean." - Cold baths just sound unpleasant. There was also this whole section where he talked about how women specifically sweat fat out through their hands. I don’t have much for formal medical training but I’m confident that that’s not a thing that happens.

Speaking of, I particularly like that, in the book aimed at women, he's very adamant about daily bathing and in the book aimed at men it's more, "Eh, once per week is probably fine."

"EAT PICKLES AND CANDY IF YOU CRAVE THEM." - Unnecessarily aggressive sounding there, "Doctor". All I can picture is this quack screaming that in someone's face.

I guess it's kind of good to know that I have more extensive and accurate medical knowledge than someone who somehow got through school and earned the title of Doctor.

Oh, and I'm most amused by the fact that his last book was a book on "how to live long" and he died before he was 60. Must not be very good advice in that book.

Kind of want to read that one next.

#antiques #old books #bad advice #homophobia cw #it's kind of amazing anyone survived at all #so my assumption is nobody listened to weirdos like this #sinday

[mariniacipher]

But Light Sides Do

Inspired by @quillfics42 onehot “Dark Sides Don’t Do Holidays” 

Summary: Patton gets his fellow Light Sides to make a christmas gift for their new housemate. 

Character: Patton, Roman, Logan, Virgil is mentioned and has a small appeareance at the end

Pairings: none, platonic L(A)MP

Warnings: none

Words: 1.761

“But why?” Roman whined, ignoring the way Logan rolled his eyes as Patton gave him a stern look.

“Now Roman, I know you don’t like Anxiety much, but I won’t stand for anyone here not getting a present on Christmas!”

“However good your intentions may be, I don’t think that Anxiety would necessarily appreciate your efforts, seeing his apparent disdain for the holidays.”

“I understood 80% of that sentence!” Logan’s eyes would get stuck at the back of his head one of these days. “But really, Logan, why not make an effort to make Anxiety feel more included? We don’t even really know him, and he probably moved here for a reason- Maybe he’s another Light Side!”

“Yeah, right, that dreadful- dork looks ready to kill a man and you think he’s a Light Side? He should try lightening up first, if you ask me,” Roman grinned at his joke, to the amusement of no one, except Patton who laughed out of politeness,”Also, his eyeshadow is absolutely garish, you’d think he doesn’t even TRY!” Roman threw an arm against his head as he fell against the logical Side next to him, who only smirked as he let Roman fall to the ground, making no effort to catch him. “TRAITOR!” The prince wailed from the ground, gripping one of Logan’s legs, gesturing dramatically with the other arm. “How could I, the all-beloved, talented, beautiful, charming, favoured Side of all be betrayed like this- by my own brethren no less!”

Before Logan could reply, already moving to pinch his nose, he fell. Roman grabbed the other’s leg, breaking out into thunderous laughter, only getting louder at the logical Side’s disgruntled expression. But his laugh was quickly cut off in favour of high-pitched squeaks, Logan wasting no time at all tickling him into submission, a cruel smile on his face.

“Unprepared for retaliation? A shame, for the prince to go down due to such an easily avoidable error.”

“Hey! Let me- Let go of me, you fiend! I demand to be freed- Patton! Patton, save me! Save me from this vile villain!”

“No- Patton, please-”

High-pitched laughing filled the living room, interrupted by screams. Patton’s smile was absolutely innocent, a stark contrast to Roman’s positively gleeful one. Logan, meanwhile, was crying for help. “Aww, come on Lo, we can stop as soon as you agree to helping us with anxiety’s present!”

“Us?”

“Yeah, of course, or do you not want to help?” Patton smiled, as sweet as a cherub, while Logan yelped on the ground in front of him, and Roman wasn’t frightened, per se, he’s a prince after all, but well- a prince always does good deeds whenever he can!

“No- I can’t wait, Patton, we shall show that Grinch the joys of Christmas! I am already thinking of ideas,” he grinned, conjuring a scroll of parchment and a self-inking quill, writing down the headline- “A Gift For A Grouch”- in pink, glittering, cursive writing.  

Logan relaxed as Patton moved away from him in favour of looking over Roman’s shoulder as the creative Side jotted down ideas, calming his breathing and his nerves. Patton and his incessant tickling, it was humilitaing.

“Hey, Lo, c’mere, look at all of Roman’s ideas!”

“Yes, very fascinating- what would he do with a set of Magic: The gathering cards? He doesn’t have anyone to play with.”

“I was brainstorming, genius,” Roman muttered, striking out the idea. “Besides, I think we all know the obvious winner here-”

“Yeah, the onesie!”

“No- You mean the collection of works by Edgar Allan Poe, correct?”

“No! The make-up set, you fools! He obviously needs it.”

“Kiddo, don’t be mean!” The only reply Patton got was displeased grumbling, but he went on unbothered. “And we don’t know if he even likes that scary stuff, or if he already has it, if he does.” “And scary stories belong to Halloween, not Christmas.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t know his size, so we can’t make him a hoodie either, not even regarding how strenuous it’d be to make a hoodie in such a short amount of time.”

“Uh, I can conjure?”

“But it’s a present, it should be handmade!”

“Okay, well, we can’t very well sneak into his room and just measure him-”

“-I could! It’s what I did to get the measurements for your Christmas sweater last year! Did you know that you sleep-talk?”

“No, I… did not, Patton. Thanks for informing me of that,” Logan noted, stiffly. He’d definitely get a lock tomorrow. Maybe earlier.

“You’re welcome! Oh! What if we get him a housewarming present?”

“And what would that be? Maybe a stocked wardrobe?... I don’t think I’ve seen him in anything other than that hoodie in years, it’s a crime.”

“Roman!”

“I can’t help it if it’s true!”

“Well, maybe he just gets cold quickly?”

“I think it’s more likely to be a coping mechanism, seeing as Sides usually have a deeper connection with what they embody, and hoodies being widely considered to be calming for people dealing with heightened anxiety due to stimulating the skin, offering warmth and comfort, as well as hiding the person’s figure.”

“Either way, we could make him a blanket! That way, he’d be warm, and whenever he uses it he can remember that even though none of us expected this, he is welcome here!”

“A grand idea, Padre!”

“Thank you Roman!”

“It does seem fitting. I’d suggest Princey designs it, for obvious reasons, while Patton and I make the actual blanket.”

“That emo nightmare won’t know what hit him, it’ll look so amazing!”

“Remember that it’s supposed to fit his aesthetic!”

“Shall do, dear Patton!”

“Aaand he’s gone. Well, let’s start on the actual blanket. Would you mind conjuring all we need, and get Thomas to research the process behind making a blanket, I don’t think I’ve got one in my records, and you’re more familiar with creating a sudden flash of interest in one of these,” he fished for a flash card, just to be sure,” DIY-projects.”

“Course, Lo. Ohhh, how about we make it weighted?”

“Like the one we made for Roman, so his incessant moving wouldn’t keep him up even longer? Well, I don’t see anything wrong with it, although it’d be a considerable amount of extra work.”

“I’m sure we’ll manage!”

So it was decided.

Roman came down with his drawing pad just a few minutes later, Logan planning how to do the actual blanket, guessing how much Anxiety would weigh to calculate the amount of pellets they’d need, and how much cotton would be needed to make it pleasantly soft, while Patton hummed christmas carols to himself, rolling out a batch of sugar cookies he’d quickly thrown together, before lining up a batch of different cookie cutters to make as many different shapes as possible. He especially liked the pumpkin and the elephant ones, as they always made Logan pinch his brow in that adorable, confused way of his.

It didn’t take long for Logan to be finished with the match behind it, and he sat next to Roman- Patton subtly keeping an eye on them, to make sure they wouldn’t argue too badly- looking over the prince’s designs and offering both praise and criticism. Both working towards a shared goal, it was easier to accept each other’s differences, easier to appreciate the other’s strengths.

The end product was a mix of black, purple and red, with stripes of white on the upper side, truly capturing Anxiety’s emo style, even if it seemed a bit more goth than his usual aesthetic. The flannel pattern wasn’t the main subject of their pride, though. That would the underside of the blanket, where they’d settled for a soft, crocheted blanket from Patton, in a light violet tone that looked like the clouds in the twilight of the dying sun, a calming colour with black embroidery they’d added, at the start just to proof that they were better at it than the other. The final product was a mixture of extravagant floral swirls and linear, geometric shapes, somehow slotting together perfectly. Patton squealed as he saw the two pieces of fabric, hugging both of them, and crinkling the blankets, almost choking on his own breath and excitement.

Patton had the most experience with the sewing machine, ,so he was the one sewing the blanket together, Logan weighing the pellets and mixing them with cotton to put into the patterns of the quilt and Roman eating some- not all!- of the sugar cookies- “A snack deserves a snack!”- and decorating the others, singing festive broadway and disney songs under his breath to avoid Logan getting into another tirade about waking their new housemate.

A bit more than an hour later, the quilt was finished, and the Sides looked it with pride. Anxiety would surely love his present! Patton wrote a quick note to put on the folded blanket and, seeing as Logan was barely seeing straight and Roman had offered to carry him to bed, walked upstairs and to Anxiety’s room, knocking quietly to check if he was awake, before slipping inside to quickly put the blanket on the desk, but- the kiddo was freezing! He was freezing, even under his numerous blankets and covers, this wouldn’t do! Patton covered the dark Side with the quilt, tucking him in as the kiddo snuggled deeper into the weighted blanket, quickly stilling, a tenseness leaving his form that Patton hadn’t even noticed was there. He put the note on Anxiety’s bedside cabinet and snuck out again.

“Merry Christmas, kiddo!”

~

They all tried to cover their disappointment when Anxiety failed to acknowledge their gift, if anything only growing more hostile with time, and never once uttering a thank you. Unknowing that the dark Side had accidentally knocked their note under his bed when reaching for his phone, Roman saw no reason not to let his hurt turn into bitterness, enjoying to get a rise out of the ungrateful Side. Logan, of course, had no such emotionally based reasoning, but if pressed he would admit that the other Side’s dismissal of their efforts was a tad… rude. But then again, he probably thought it a silly gesture, with his talk of Dark Sides not “doing” holidays, so he’d be glad to respect his views. Patton tried to stay nice, but wrapped under his covers, he was hurt- but he kept on hoping, he was sure Anxiety was nice under all his snarling and teasing!

He’d eventually be proven right, but none of the Light Sides knew that yet.

#sander sides #sander sides fanfiction #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #christmas ficlet #continuation i guess? #let's hope this isn't awful #platonic logince #fluff #some angst in the last paragraph but not much

[thechillicount]

Bungou Stray Dogs Questionnaire

Rules: Complete all the questions you want, expand and explain your answers as much as you want, and have fun!

If you can, tag some people you want to join in on the fun!

So I tag anyone that sees this and wants to do it to have fun! Everyone is welcomed!

Thank youuuu @usagiomega

What ability would you have in the BSD universe?

(That one's hard~!)

Melodic Speed: The more I listen to music the faster and agile I get. Pretty simple, I like simple. It could get to the point that others are unable to see me because I'm that fast. (I combined two things I do most often, listening to music and being slow. Totally not inspired by Hamatora.)

If you could claim someone's ability in BSD, whose ability would you want?

(Don't say Chuuya's, don't say Chuuya's)

I'm really tempted by Edgar's ability. To trap people in books until they solve the mystery inside? I'd say dope! That would also make me write more as I have a few people I'd like to trap, just for fun~

What group/organization would you join?

Port Mafia for sure as I'm a villain at heart but still want to have a reliable and strong family around me. Also because I can wear a lot of black. But Mori can stay locked in his room.

Which BSD character do you identify with the most?

Honestly Ranpo. I do the exact same things that he does, laze around and eat baked goods. But that's only on the outside.

On the inside I identify with Chuuya a lot. Him hating betrayals is something that hits too close to home. Him wanting to protect Port Mafia that took him in after his previous group pushed him away. Him being loyal as heck not even knowing if he'll be able to stay forever or not. Like I said, hits too close to home.

Who are your top five favourite BSD characters?

(Surprise surprise)

Dazai: The very first time he appeared I took him for an asshole, which he kinda is. But then I quickly grew to like him as I was getting interested in his character on a deeper level. I like his two faced personality, he acts derpy and cute only to turn into a mischievous sadist that he truly is. The Dark Era also made me gain respect and much more love for him.

Chuuya: He introduced me to BSD when I first saw him in this MEP (bless and R.I.P MDS). So in 2016! I even remember watching BSD during Christmas Eve dinner under the table! Not gonna lie, his looks hooked me in. When I finally got him after so many episodes I was interested even more. He has some history with my boy Dazai? Show me, tell me! Until recently I've been thirsty for some more Chuuya and got it in the new season, I'm still gonna read the actual light novel though. But nonetheless, I'm satisfied. I actually hope BONES doesn't make him an another main character because I like him as he is. I like redhead hotheads like Chuuya or Taiga Kagami. Also, I was already a huge fan of GRANRODEO in 2016 so hearing Kishow was a blessing. All thanks to Kuroko no Basket. ♡

Oda: His precious heart made me love him! He just wanted to write, to take care of the kids. Each time I remember my heart cries a river. And each time something new comes to the BSD universe with him in it I love it but also can't take it.

MANGA SPOILERS

Tecchou: First of all, I really like the concept of Hunting Dogs. Second of all, this boy is precious. Justice fighter who respects people that want to protect others. The whole scene with the cafe owner moved my freaking heart, I kid you not. Unlike other members of the Hunting Dogs he doesn't want to bring down ADA just because they're supposed criminals but because it's his job to keep the country and it's people safe. And so he's doing it, no matter what he must do. I'm pretty sure that if he would find out the truth he'll try to stop his teammates and explain who's the real villain here. I hope it happens! His habits are also hilarious.

(Translation by Dazaiscans of course.)

Michizou: I don't know if I can count him as a "favorite" yet but I really liked what Asagiri-sensei and Harukawa-sensei did with him. The reveal is one of my favorite manga scenes ever! I'm looking forward to seeing more of him as I was dying to since I started watching BSD. I won't forgive him for hurting Gin though, that's one huge minus.

(Translation by Dazaiscans of course.)

Are there any authors that you'd want to bring into the BSD universe that hasn't arrived yet? Or do you have OCs?

Oh boy, here we go!

I do have one author that I think would fit very well. He's a polish poet from a romanticism era (my fave) that wrote poems, epics, ballads. His name is Adam Mickiewicz ladies and gents. Why do I think he would fit? Well, he was born in Poland that didn't actually exist and people were fighting for its freedom. So fight was already in his blood which he later on proved by becoming a commander in a battle. He was in a lot of conspiracy groups. And because of that I feel like fitting in BSD is just a matter of what kind of organization is he going to be in. He even had contact and made friends with Russian Decemberists, made enemies with Pushkin (who already is in BSD). If Adam would be in BSD I believe he'd have contact with the Rats before they fled to Japan. And because of his conspiracy origins I say he spied on the Rats from within. As for his ability I believe it would be some fighting type one as real life Adam took part in battles. I wanted to give him an ability that has something to do with his play "Dziady" but I haven't really decided yet.

Favourite Scene(s)?

Anime

Dazai floating in river; Dazai nullifying Atsushi's ability; Chuuya's reveal; Atsushi and Akutagawa fighting Fitzgerald; Atsushi hugging Kyouka; Any scene with Oda; Any scene with 15 year old Chuuya and Osamu except for the hand holding one; Fyodor killing Karma, (I'm so sorry)

Manga

Chuuya shooting bullets using gravity; Tachihara's reveal; Yosano's backstory; Mori and Fukuzawa's fight; Fukuzawa and Fukuchi scene; Any Tecchou scene; Hunting Dogs being chaotic; Chuuya getting tired and punching everyone; Dazai getting shot; Edgar getting scared by his ringtone; Dazai and Fyodor in a chess duel; Any Sigma scene.

(Translation by Dazaiscans of course.)

Favourite Quotes from the Authors/Characters?

(Thank Gods there's bsd-bibliophile~ Great help!)

Mine has been a life of much shame.

- Dazai Osamu, No Longer Human

To love someone is to put your life on the line. I don't take it lightly.

- Dazai Osamu, "Female" from Self Portraits

Bad people are to be found everywhere, but even among the worst there may be something good.

- Fyodor Dostoyevsky (Фёдор Достоевский), The House of the Dead

It is better to be unhappy and know the worst, than to be happy in a fool's paradise.

- Fyodor Dostoyevsky (Фёдор Достоевский), The Idiot

A fool with a heart and no sense is just as unhappy as a fool with sense and no heart.

- Fyodor Dostoyevsky (Фёдор Достоевский), The Idiot

(I'm currently reading Dostoyevsky in my literature class sooo)

Life is worth living as long as there's a laugh in it.

- L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

Because when you are imagining, you might as well imagine something worth while.

- L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

People laugh at me because I use big words. But if you have big ideas, you have to use big words to express them, haven't you?

- L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

(One of my favorite books ever)

That threw me for a loop...is that my ringtone?

- Edgar Allan Poe getting scared by his ringtone, Chapter 55

(I had to)

Certainly, people are sinfully stupid. But what's so wrong about that?

- Dazai Osamu, Chapter 46

(Can I wait till Friday for that? I'll try)

Who would you want to bring to life to be your best friend? Waifu/Husbando?

There are a lot but I'm gonna go classic and say Chuuya. I'd love to make fun of him for being shorter than me and watch him go berserk. Like I said, I'm a villain at heart. I love him tons though! Dazai is also a pick as he's already very similar to my best friend. I have weird friends.

How has Bungou Stray Dogs changed you as a person? Did you learn anything from it?

I learned that I strive to write as good as Asagiri-sensei because his writing is amazing in my opinion. BSD also introduced me to a ton of Japanese authors as it's the case with most of its watchers. And even though I don't have a lot of time to read their books now (school and grade chasing as I only have 3 weeks to improve them), I'm going to read EVERYTHING I CAN during summer vacations. Good luck to me~

#bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs manga #bungou stray dogs spoilers #bsd #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #bsd tecchou #bsd tachihara #bungou stray dogs questionnaire

[amelia-friend]

Not a Superhero

Cute Wellenore and/or AnnaPoe modern au fluff, or time travelling Wellenore. Just all the Fluff!

Secret Santa Present for @valentine-lang. I really hope you like it!!

HG is awkward, Lenore is always right, Edgar is a Disney princess, and Annabel is terrifying and amazing (but we knew that already).

Or the modern/bookstore/superpowers AU that almost definitely isn’t what the prompt asked for, but I wrote anyway.

Available on AO3 here

HG Wells is not a superhero.

He could be, that’s what he’s been told his entire life, but he isn’t.

He got his telekinesis (a fairly common power, but quite high level anyway) around age ten (early, but not abnormally so), and when combined with his (by most people’s standard; very high, but not supernaturally gifted) intelligence – he’d make a great superhero.

But he’s shy and awkward, almost painfully so, and he’d much prefer spending time with his books and his inventions than all that running and saving and interacting with strangers.

HG Wells is not a superhero, but he likes it that way.

The bookstore is not new. The paint is peeling, and the door creaks, and there’s a hundred things that need fixing.

The bookstore is new to HG.

He’s just moved, and managed to get lost on his way home, and stumbled across the old building entirely by accident.

It’s late and it’s raining and he really, really wants to be home – so he doesn’t go inside, but he does make a note of the name, and a mental promise to return when he has time.

When he has time, turns out to be not the next Saturday, but the one after – a sunny morning heralding the start of the warmth of spring. It’s the perfect morning to spend in a bookshop.

And that’s how he ends up outside “The Raven” once again, peeling paint and creaking door and all.

It’s cooler inside than he would have expected given the heat, and there’s not the usual cloud of dust he normally associates with shops like this, but it’s nowhere near sterile. The light filters gently through the slightly clouded windows, and the smell is the classic mix of books old and new, and he’s never been here before, but somehow, he feels as though he has come home.

There’s a red-headed woman behind the desk with a smile like the sun, and he turns down her offer to help him find what he’s looking for, in preference to simply spend some time (as much time as he can) simply browsing through the books.

There’s a lot of books.

Three floors, floor to ceiling shelving, and the store goes deeper than he would have expected from the outside. There’s the usual new fiction craze near the front door, with crisp covers and handwritten notes of recommendation on most of them; there’s the children’s section that holds no interest for him, but is bright and colourful and soft and if he was still ten he would have loved to spend an hour and his parent’s money there. There’s the cooking; and the crime; and the biographies; and the histories; and the travel guides.

There’s a lot of books.

He could wander for hours – days – and still be surprised every time he turned a corner.

He keeps going to the back – the books get older and more interesting the more he looks; and he isn’t quite sure what he’s looking for, but the small basket he had picked up at some point gains a friend in a book, then two and three and four, and they just keep getting better.

He even found the shelf of his books – written under a pseudonym of course. He had steered clear of that shelf as soon as he realised.

There was a steady stream of customers – he can hear the bell above the door semi-regularly, and the red-headed woman at the desk greets them all just as cheerfully (and sincerely, he really believes) as she greeted him – but they all seem to be searching for something in particular, or if they don’t browse, they don’t end up as deep in the maze as he has ended up, and he looks up from his current book (he meant to glance through the first few pages, and is now at least twenty five pages deep, and it’s definitely going in his basket to come home with him), as he realises he hasn’t actually seen another person for almost twenty minutes.

And of course, that is exactly the moment he (actually literally) walks straight into the woman in the white dress, and manages to send both their (not exactly small) piles of books flying into the air.

Lenore Poe is not a superhero.

She had considered it once, as a child – the way she considered being a ballerina or a chef or a fashion designer.

She considers it sometimes as an adult – anything to pass the boredom of working in her brother’s bookstore.

Her powers don’t really lend themselves to “superhero-ing” though.

She got her powers at thirteen – materialisation (Edgar called her a 3-d printer once. She made sure he never said it again). They’re pretty useful in her day to day life – she’s never more than a thought away from that specific book a customer wants, or that little thing she’s misplaced but really needs right now, or (her favourite) more than ten seconds away from the perfect glass of anything she wants (so useful when Edgar is going through one of his “hermit” phases – although considering his “hermit” phases last at least three times longer than his “normal human being” phases, should she consider them the other way around? She doesn’t actually care).

For something that can fit in her hand, she can do it a hundred or two hundred times a day with basically no effort required. For something about the size of the average person it takes more concentration and more time, and requires real non-materialised food waiting for her when she finishes. In an emergency, she can create something as large as a car (but she will need to sleep for like a week afterwards, and it better be a real emergency).

So yeah – not the most useful superhero-ing gift in the long run.

She tried to materialise a house when she was seventeen. She doesn’t really know why. She was seventeen and showing off and teenagers think a lot of things are a good idea when they really aren’t. She gets about three rooms in, and then she wakes up four days later in the hospital. She hasn’t tried again since.

But the alcohol is unlimited and free-flowing, she hasn’t paid for her (perfect in every way) clothes since she was sixteen and she has pretty much everything she could want (except a job that doesn’t make her want to claw her eyeballs out).

Lenore Poe is not a superhero, but her life’s still pretty great.

And then all the books freeze in mid-air, before a quick twitch of HG’s hand sends them flying back to their original owner.

He’s trying to stammer out a coherent apology, and she looks more amused (and kind of impressed) than anything else, and that’s about the time he realises she’s wearing a name tag, and she obviously works here.

Lenore.

It’s a pretty name.

“I’m HG,” he finally manages to say without embarrassing himself too much.

“You’re not meant to be here,” she tells him, and he’s confused for a moment (It’s not the usual response to that statement, and he spends more time than he should considering normal and usual responses to common sentences and statements). “Only staff back here.”

And that probably explains why there weren’t any other customers nearby, and he can feel his face turning burnt tomato – which she finds almost adorable more than anything else.

Except there’s no time for him to apologise, because she simply goes on to say – “I’ll take you back,” she offers – except it’s not really an offer – he’s not supposed to be there. “You find everything you were searching for?” She asks, already leading the way back to the actual part of the shop customers were meant to be in.

“And then some,” he replies, completely truthfully, following right next to her.

“This is Annabel,” Lenore introduces, once the pair get back to the front desk and HG can see actual sunlight once more, and realises he spent almost two and a half hours among the book stacks. “She is like literal human sunshine.” There’s an underlying something, and Annabel gives a sharp look (or what is intended to be a sharp look – she’s Annabel, she’s much too good for something like that.), and HG is definitely missing part of the story, but he knows better than to actually ask (he knows better now, that was a social lesson he learnt the hard way).

Annabel is quick at her job, and the books are run through in seconds (and placed into a paper bag with – what else – a raven printed on the front). Lenore hands his receipt over, and then he leaves; a cheerful ‘goodbye’ from the two working in the shop, and a still awkward smile, and half a head nod from HG in return.

“I saw you write your number on the receipt,” Annabel remarks, once the door has completely shut and HG is at least halfway down the street.

Lenore’s response is nothing more than a raised eyebrow, before she disappears back into the book stacks once again, leaving Annabel to greet the next customer through the door.

He texts her that afternoon.

How he managed to make a text sound awkward and unsure and exactly how he spoke, is beyond her, and she gets the feeling that he thinks it’s probably a joke, and it would actually be a pretty cute moment, except…

Except that’s when Edgar (and his usual army – only half joking – of birds and random mammals) decided to make an appearance.

Edgar Allan Poe is not a superhero.

Not that that would be a surprise to anyone – Edgar Allan Poe is practically infamous for hating people (excluding a select few. Read: Annabel Lee – and Lenore when she forces her way into his office because “it’s been two weeks Edgar, you need to leave this room. Shower, eat, interact with humans for a change and maybe even see the sun. It won’t kill you. I might though.” He pretends not to hear the last bit, she probably doesn’t mean it.), and that’s not exactly a great trait for a superhero.

He has his books, and he has his birds (and the various other animals who trail in now and again, but he prefers the birds. The ravens hold a special significance for him), and he has Lenore (even if he wished she would be a little bit … less … at times) and Annabel (she’s his friend – if you don’t include his sister – basically his only friend, and she’s wonderful and amazing and everything and sunshine, and it’s not exactly a secret that he wants to be more than that, but as long as he doesn’t lose her, he doesn’t care what they are).

He sees the way people (society, Lenore, Annabel) look at the superhero – those chosen few elite who are obviously so much better than everyone else, and for a moment he wants to be one (even if he hates – most – people, even if his powers really aren’t suited to helping, well, anyone human) even if just so she looks at him the way she looks at the superheroes.

Not that talking to animals (zoolingualism, a teacher had referred to it, once upon a time when he was twelve and confused why animals would follow into school, and why he had birds literally sitting on him and around him no matter what he did, and why the outdoors had suddenly got so much … chattier, and why the other children couldn’t understand him when he spoke – although that last one might have just been adolescent bullying, because other people didn’t have a problem understanding him, even in the middle of a conversation with one of his birds or random creature that wandered into his life) is that great of a superhero power. He can’t make them do anything, they just exist and chatter and annoy him, and despite it all, he still wishes he could be a superhero (for Annabel).

But he can’t and she won’t look at him like she looks at them (at least – not for superhero-ing), so he leaves daydreams behind for children, and goes back to his writing. He’s only been locked in his study for less than a day, he’s got time to finish this next piece before Lenore comes to break his door down herself and drag him (sometimes actually physically) to the kitchen, or sends Annabel to knock gently and accomplish the exact same thing.

Edgar Allan Poe is not a superhero, but sometimes he wishes he could be.

Everything shifts about three weeks after their first meeting.

HG has fallen into the habit of visiting the store almost every day on his way home from work, and most days on his way to work as well.

Sometimes it’s just Lenore in the front, and sometimes it’s just Annabel. Sometimes it’s Edgar, on his own, usually in the middle of a conversation with a bird, of which HG can only just understand the human half of the conversation (Edgar is very weird. This is not a recent occurrence).

But they’re becoming friends – like actual proper friends that HG doesn’t have many (read: any) of. And he likes it. He likes having friends. It’s nice.

It’s nice when Lenore is bickering with Edgar over the shop, or the animals, or his fashion sense, or his life, or his (very obvious) infatuation with Annabel. It’s nice when Edgar deigns to join them, or sends some random rodent downstairs with a note attached to its neck and Lenore screams before she realises it’s an ‘Edgar Animal’, or when Edgar is dragged out of his office by a sudden angry Lenore. It’s nice when Annabel does, basically anything really, Annabel is just about perfect in everyone’s eyes. She made cookies one time. Those were very nice.

It’s nice when they treat him like a friend, as well.

Sometimes he buys something, sometimes he buys lots of things, sometimes he doesn’t buy anything – just stays there for hours until the sun has long set and they need to lock up, and he needs to go home.

It’s nice having friends, but he’s still not very good at it.

(He’s trying)

So – it’s a Sunday, just over three weeks after the first time HG met Lenore and Annabel (just under three weeks since HG met Edgar and was almost attacked by an owl who wanted his goggles. That’s another story. Actually, wait – that’s the entire story. Lenore thought it was funny. Annabel fussed a little. Edgar disappeared … somewhere), when the screaming comes from outside.

It’s not uncommon – the screaming. They live in a society where 99% of the population, and like 5% of them decide their life purpose is to become a superhero.

They have their fair share of supervillains as well.

This guy has ice powers – pretty classic supervillain stuff. Does the power decide the villain-y? Or were they going to become villainous anyway and the powers only helped? (The middle of an attack is probably not the place for such musings, HG)

They’re probably safe inside, and the superheroes will be along in like two minutes to deal with this guy – so they move further away from the window, closer towards the book stacks, but it’s not like they’re in any real danger.

That would be the moment a stray icicle punches a fist-sized hole in the large store window – and the pointed (like, literally like a spear tip, this is a really sharp icicle. How did this dude do that? Natural icicles are pretty blunt – it’s fairly difficult to murder, or even assault, someone with a regular natural icicle. Really not the time, HG) end came flying towards HG’s head.

Annabel Lee is not a superhero.

She wanted to be when she was a child, she had the heart for it (like that was the most important thing), but when her powers didn’t kick in at ten or eleven or twelve, she moved onto other ideas of what her future would look like.

When her powers didn’t kick in at thirteen or fourteen, she didn’t really notice. When they hadn’t come by fifteen, she knew her parents were getting concerned, but she didn’t mind too much – there were other kids in her year that didn’t have theirs either.

Her powers came at sixteen. She was the last in her year. She wished they had never come.

It really had been an accident. There was an exam, and she was stressed (it was an important exam), and she doesn’t really know what happened between then and the alarms and the screaming and the running. It really had been an accident.

She had always been known as “sweet” and “nice”, but now (after having to move to a new school, where all questions of her powers were shrugged off with a “they’re not that interesting” and a change of subject, and everyone just goes with it, except for one Lenore Poe in her new class and her – a little / a lot – weird brother in the year above) she was the “sweetest”, the “nicest”, the “embodiment of happiness and flowers”, and the “literal human incarnation of sunshine”.

If only they knew how true that last one was.

Annabel Lee is not a superhero, but she would have made an amazing supervillain.

And then the ice is gone, because fire and ow, that definitely removed some hair from his face – that fire was too close to his face.

And then he remembered that he’s telekinetic; and sends a sudden blast that gets rid of the rest of the ice (and also kind of makes the crack in the window worse – sorry Lenore – but it was already cracked, it was going to have to be fixed anyway).

But windows and telekinesis and ice will have to wait because HG turns around and Annabel is glowing. And Annabel is On Fire. And when did this happen?

And suddenly the “literal human sunshine” phrase Lenore had introduced her with makes more sense – but HG had assumed Lenore was using ‘literal’ in the common ‘figurative’ sense (in that Annabel was a very nice and sunny person) not in the actual ‘literal’ sense (in that Annabel is, yes, very nice, but also able to set herself and other things on fire. Like the sun.)

It’s terrifying and it’s also kind of really awesome at the same time.

The “fight” lasts maybe two minutes from that point.

Annabel ignores both Lenore and Edgar, and storms out to the street, all righteous anger and (yes) literal fire.

And what hope did ice (especially ice from what looks like a seventeen year old kid) ever have against the burning fury of the sun.

None.

That’s how much hope ice had, from the moment he broke the shop window.

Lenore tried to materialise a house when she was a teenager and put herself in the hospital; Edgar tried to organise an animal revolution when he was a teenager, but quickly realised that while he could talk to animals, he couldn’t make them do anything they didn’t want to do, and they didn’t want to revolt; HG tried to use telekinesis on himself so as to fly when he was a teenager, and ended up breaking both his legs, and was stuck on bed rest for far too long. Annabel tried not to use her powers as a teenager.

And this kid tried to take over the world, or take over the city, or terrorise this one street, when he was a teenager. Because teenagers are stupid, and don’t make the most rational decisions, and sometimes taking over the world seems like a good idea at the time.

(It’s never a good idea to take over the world. The easy bit is taking over the world, but then you’ve got to run it. And then there’s no time for anything else, just because you thought taking over the world would be fun.)

The actual superheroes turn up about three minutes after the boy is turned into a soaking wet random kid in the middle of the street.

They smile, they greet the people now starting to come out onto the streets, they say something hopeful and utterly meaningless, and then they leave with the ice villain wannabe in tow.

Being a superhero actually seems pretty boring when you put it that way.

There’s a sound from behind him, and HG turns to see Lenore spraying Annabel down with a fire extinguisher (she’s never been as good at putting her own fire out as she is at putting other people’s fires out. That probably means something, but right now it means she gets covered head to toe in white foam while her best friend tries not to laugh at the sight.).

Right – the fire thing. That’s still a thing.

The next little bit of time passes in somewhat of a blur. There are hot drinks all around – one tea (a proper one), one hot chocolate (a proper one), one regular coffee and one coffee strong enough to kill a standard human.

Lenore takes charge (it’s her shop just as much as Edgar’s, and he seems pretty useless at the moment, if the ever-growing number of small mammals surrounding him is any indication), and somehow HG gets roped into helping out (he should have escaped sooner).

(He’s kind of glad he didn’t)

Edgar’s arguing with a cat (don’t focus on it, just ignore it, Lenore advises him), and Annabel is proving that she actually is literal human sunshine in the common figurative sense, as well as in the literally literal sense HG’s just discovered.

And maybe it’s a good thing these people are not superheroes.

These people were never meant to be superheroes.

And that’s perfectly fine by them.

#Poe Party Secret Santa #valentine-lang #shipwrecked comedy #poe party #wellenore #fanfiction #mine

[sssoto]

Get to Know the Writer Tag!

And here we go again with another tag! This time I was tagged by @brandonmcmann n.n

1. Favourite fictional villain?

I can’t just choose one, I need to have a scope to work within! So I’m gonna say my favourite Disney villain, and pick Frollo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame, because that dude creeps me out and I love it <3

2. What do you think makes a good hero?

A good hero or a good protagonist? I mean, for a hero, I would assume that bravery would be a pretty valuable trait. To defeat the bad guys and overcome the obstacles and all that, yanno?

3. Do you prefer writing lit fic or genre fiction?

I’m actually not even sure what I’m writing. To some degree I would say genre fiction because there are genres I find super intriguing and want to explore (such as horror/mystery/other worlds), but I’d say my writing has an element of lit fic to it as well as it explores human nature and social issues quite a lot. I don’t even know, fam.

4. Favourite fictional hero?

Okay, this I seriously cannot answer lol. There are too many, TOO MANY I SAY.

5. What are your thoughts on fanfiction of your work?

Omg I love it!! Please give me all the fanfiction! The thought that people would be so invested in my characters that they’d want to spend time in their heads and imagine them in different scenarios makes me so happy and flattered <3 Besides, my project is literally fanfiction, so it would be hypocrisy if I was anti-fanfic lol!

Personally, I don’t understand the stigma around fanfiction. Fanfiction is basically just adaptations of existing stories and characters, whether that be fictional or something else; even creative fiction about real historical figures is fanfiction to some degree, it’s just fanfic about true events lol. Adaptations are made all the time anyway, especially in the film business, so why judge? Are the Jane Austen books published by contemporary authors any less fanfic than a 100k story posted on AO3?

I know there are people concerned with copyright too, but the moment your work is out there, peope are free to use it whatever way they want as long as it’s personal and not for monetary gain (unless you have a special arrangement and permission). Otherwise artists wouldn’t be able to make fanart, the talented editors here on Tumblr wouldn’t be able to make gifs and aeshetics and manipulations, and in general fan community would just be a lot less creative. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

6. Would a video game adaptation of your current WIP be possible?

Um.

I think the question is: would a novelization of my current favourite video game be possible?

The answer would be YES.

7. Which famous author/writer (dead or alive) would you like to meet?

Omg too many. Oscar Wilde, Edgar Allan Poe, HP Lovecraft, Jane Austen, JK Rowling, Laini Taylor, Stephen King, Charles Dickens, HC Andersen...

8. Who would play your MC if your work was turned into a movie/TV show?

Hmm Ben Barnes? He had the look in that Dorian Gray movie!

His face isn’t right tho. Hmmm. I don’t really know that any actor I’m familiar with would be the right fit for Daniel as of now!

9. Favourite satire novel?

I don’t read a lot of satire specifically, but I think I would say Pride and Prejudice. Or The Importance of Being Earnest, though I’m not sure if that counts? Probably not since you asked for my favourite satire novel, not play lol

10. Favourite word to use?

I do like to say indeed a lot in my prose lmao.

Thanks once again for tagging me, @brandonmcmann! I’m not gonna tag anyone, but if y’all wanna answer these questions, go ahead and consider yourself tagged! <3

#writeblr #Amnesia the dark descent #disney #the hunchback of notre dame #fanfiction #personal #tag game

[buriedunderbones-blog]

EDGAR BONES APPLICATION

I realised that after the original main got hacked I didn’t re-post my application and I thought it would be helpful/interesting to have it somewhere that can be accessed by everyone. (It was a while ago now though so Ed now may differ a bit from my first idea of him. Also there may be some mistakes or spelling errors oops) Anyway, under the cut is my app for Ed!

DESIRED CHARACTER Edgar Bones

FACE CLAIM William Moseley 

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

I find Hufflepuffs that really defy the house’s stereotype really interesting and in particular love the dark and brooding artist vibe of Edgar. I’m a huge fan of poetry and I can’t pretend that his name alone didn't interest me because of Edgar Allan Poe (& I can imagine he would be low-key pleased about sharing a name with one of the greats), but I was just so enthralled by the character, which is strange for me because I’m rarely drawn to characters I don't know at least a little bit about. The idea of a ‘loner’ Hufflepuff is super captivating because I can imagine how difficult it would be to be surrounded by people constantly asking how you are when you just want to be alone and stewing in angst. He obviously exhibits a lot of typically Hufflepuff traits; he is very good at giving solutions to problems and empathising with people, he’s hard working, loyal, and he has his head in the clouds a lot. However, he doesn’t appreciate empathy when it’s directed towards him, he is a ride or die friend to only a few people and doesn’t really fret over the rest, and he often prefers to be lost in thought than down on earth. His issues with commitment stem from his lack of communication skills; he can write down what he’s feeling, but it’s often hard for him to verbally open up to others. He isn’t particularly quick to anger, but he often jumps into fights just to feel the thrill of it; Edgar bottles up a lot of his emotions and, while he also lets them out through artistic means, he doesn't have a physical outlet. Part of him also just finds the feeling of bones cracking under his knuckles fascinating. He was definitely the type of child who killed ants with a magnifying glass, not out of cruelty, but morbid curiosity. The poem ‘Alone’ by Poe really resonates with how I see Edgar; he just doesn’t relate to a lot of the people around him and while they all focus on the blue skies, he cannot help but see the clouds. I usually find it really difficult to match characters to an Enneagram of personality number, but Edgar is definitely a strong 4. He is very much focused on being himself and idealises sadness and fantasising, but sometimes in trying to find and be himself, he loses sight of his core values. He has a lot of Ravenclaw in him, but ultimately he isn't calculated enough to be a Ravenclaw and he doesn’t value intelligence and learning above all. He has some Slytherin qualities, but he isn't ambitious or cunning enough; he doesn’t really lie (but he does withhold truth with silence) and he’s content to keep his dreams in his head. He can seem quite impulsive, but he doesn’t have that true Gryffindor recklessness (at least not for the same reason they have it: he isn't scared of death). He fights for the cause, not because he’s particularly passionate about it, but because he knows it’s the right thing to do. He may stray to the darker things in life and have trouble figuring out where he stands morally, but he’s loyal to his family and knows he will always stand with them. I’m not sure if these are reasons or me just explaining why I love him so much. He’s weird and he’s an outcast; he doesn’t fit in, but that’s what makes him all the more interesting. While a lot of people in his situation would reject the people who made him feel that way and join more radical groups (eg. death eaters, aversio) to feel like they belong, Edgar doesn’t do that. He knows that even if his opinions and experiences differ to that of his family, he'll stick by them no matter what. It’s that loyalty that makes him a Hufflepuff and stops him from floating away into his thoughts to the point of no return. (I could really go on forever, but I’ll stop)

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

He would work well with someone who balances him out and is willing to let him have alone time, but also doesn’t let him wallow in self-pity. He find it hard not to develop an emotional connection through sex, but he has a lot of commitment issues so casual sex can be a bit of a problem. (he does it anyway though) He’s mostly homosexual; although I wouldn’t completely rule out a m/f ship, I see him working better with guys.

♔ CREATE ONE (oops) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

-A MOCK BLOG ( buriedunderbones.tumblr.com ) where you can find the following: -A MOODBOARD ( https://buriedunderbones.tumblr.com/post/160438771802/edgar-bones-aesthetic-moodboard-no-one-remembers ) -AN AESTHETIC ( https://buriedunderbones.tumblr.com/post/160440824792/edgar-bones-aesthetic-those-of-wit-and-learning ) -A PLAYLIST ( https://buriedunderbones.tumblr.com/post/160438809257/edgar-bones-playlist-listen-here ) -I also did a little past/present/future gif post  ( https://buriedunderbones.tumblr.com/post/160446099697/and-all-i-loved-i-loved-alone-childhoods-hour )

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it:

Edgar frowned thoughtfully, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. “I don’t know if this counts really because its not an invention, as such, but it would be nice for invisibility cloaks to be more easily accessible.” He paused, unsure if he should continue. “I think- well, it’s, um, difficult sometimes to find a secluded place to think.” Edgar stuttered out, his mouth never had been quite on the same wavelength as his brain. Often people assumed he was shy, but he just struggled to get the right words on the tip of his tongue and by the time he finally managed most people stopped listening.

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you:

An almost fond look overtook the wizard’s features as he remembered the Forbidden Forest. Nobody took Edgar Bones for a rule-breaker, but he often found the best places to be alone were the ones off-limits. He had actually spent a night there, in his sixth year, up in a tree observing the wilderness and pouring into his moleskine. It was nice to be completely immersed in human silence, listening only to the animals tearing each other apart in the night. It was as though he didn’t exist at all. “I would go myself; as much as I love my family they just don’t get it.” He explained truthfully. “And I’d take my journal and quill, or does that count as two objects? I’m not really familiar with the semantics of the hypotheticals…” He trailed off awkwardly.

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

The hesitation on his face clearly indicated that the answer was ‘most of them’, but Edgar persevered with trying to come up with something more eloquent. “I feel a lot of emotions,” he struggled. “But I struggle to express them to other people, sometimes I don’t even want to. So, I suppose, I find it difficult to make the decisions that depend on showcasing my vulnerability.” Edgar shrugged slightly, as though to indicate he had nothing more to add.

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you?

“The spoken word is arbitrary; it’s what they don’t say that really counts.” His reply was more confident this time, but Edgar had always felt strongly towards the subject. Perhaps, it was because he was known to hide his own true feelings and knew exactly how cutthroat the human mind could be. Or perhaps he’d just heard whispers behind his back for too long to really worry about the sting of an insult that only reached his ears.

WRITING SAMPLE

The vast body of water rippled dangerously with life. Edgar sat alone at the edge of the Great Lake and gazed upon its magnificence. To some people, such depth and area may appear intimidating, but Edgar was no stranger to his insignificance on a universal level. He picked up a small flat stone from the damp sand and flicked his wrist, skipping it over the lake’s surface. The stars shone brightly, reflecting off of the black water, giving the illusion that the wizard was himself part of the night sky. Edgar had always been strangely calm, it was a sense of peace that others couldn’t begin to comprehend. He didn’t bother himself with questions of existence and life; he found a freedom in knowing that, in the grand scheme of things, he didn’t matter. He embraced the philosophy and sought comfort in the idea that if his actions had no large scale effect, then he need not bind himself to the morals of the many. This oncoming war, however, could serve to change Edgar’s whole being. 

The electricity in the air buzzed through him, wind whistling through his golden locks, and Edgar looked blankly at the grounds around him. Hogwarts castle was visible in the near distance, standing tall and regal as it had for many years. He envisioned the walls collapsing, turrets tumbling, silver bricks colliding with solid ground. Chaos wasn’t an unappealing idea to Edgar, but he would rather be contained by reasonable limits than let the world be overtaken in a blaze of fire. The Order of the Phoenix was supposedly a way he could stop that from happening. 

Amelia looked at him, eyes brimming with determination and hope. “We could really make a difference Eddy; this is our chance to do something.” She looked at him like he looked at the stars above, and he was powerless to resist. 

At first, Edgar was vehemently against the idea. He wanted to remain neutral. Not that he feared the danger that accompanied fighting the darkness; he had never been scared of death. Edgar spent his youth squashing insects and pulling the wings from butterflies, just to observe the consequences. His adolescent self channeled that feeling through his fists, acting out in violence to feel the emotions that escaped him. The sensation of his lip spitting and blood exploding from the gash was enough to make him grin. He wore black eyes like they were works of art speckled across his face.

The circle of people parted to let Edgar leave. He walked with a rare confidence, hands splattered purple and red. People started, open-mouthed, and he felt his anger balance out, tossing an easy ‘you should see the other guy’  over his shoulder. 

The other students sometimes laughed at him, but Edgar knew they’d all want him on their side in times of battle. He would protect his few friends with everything he had. No, he didn’t have the strongest morals, nor did he claim to, but of all the badgers his bite was the worst. 

However, for Edgar, a war, even one he wasn’t particularly tied to, could become quicksand. His embrace was wholehearted or non-existent. And, as he looked upon the place he had called home for so many years, Edgar whispered out into the open, empty air. “It’s not about the cause; it’s those standing by you that make the fighting worthwhile.” 

#he made his peace with letting go #Edgar bones application #edgar bones