#the geode in the corner is my favorite part

[allthingsnerd01]

Star Wars The High Republic: Fallen Star Review

So I FINALLY finished the Phase 1 adult novels of the High Republic. Fallen Star is the culmination of the story that begins in Light of the Jedi. This story primarily takes place on Starlight Beacon with brief flashes of what is going on “on the outside”. Again the Jedi and the Republic are trying toreturn to a state of normalcy after the events of the fair from the Rising Storm, believing that they now have the Eye of the Nihil in their grasps, Lourna Dee. Little do the Jedi know, Lourna Dee, while cornered, is not the orchastrator of the Nihil, and a new even bigger threat lies ahead for the Jedi, Republic, and most importantly, Starlight Beacon. 

*****SPOILERS BELOW*********

The story follows Jedi Elzar Mann, Stellan Gios, and Padawans Burryaga and Bell Zettifar and they attempt to rescue those aboard the impending crash of Starlight Beacon. Thanks to a team of Nihil sent to Starlight from the EYE himself, Marchion Ro, the space station that ones brought hope and safety to those in the Republic, now brought nothing but devastation and fear! Not only are the Jedi attempting to save Starlight and get everybody off the space station, they are also battling an unknown in the force, one that seems to be inhibiting their connection to it. While the Jedi are tasked with saving Starlight, rescuing those who are aboard, and battling this big unknown while not being able to fully call on the force, the Republic is forced to sit and watch, all to the pleasure of Marchion Ro. 

The Jedi must find new ways to rescue those aboard and stop the impending crash that face Starlight Beacon. This means that instead of relying on the Force to guide them, they begin to use other resources that are available to them, the people aboard Starlight. We learn relatively early that the Nihil had planned this attack early, sending small teams to attack systems that are far away from Starlight, pulling the Jedi and the republic resources away so that they would not be able to reach the stranded space station to assist. Stranded traders, smugglers, and transporters from the planetary devastations, all make their way to Starlight for assistance, not realizing that they will be in even more danger once they arrive. Luckily for the Jedi, they are able to team up with some of the civilians, mainly Affie, Leox, and Geode and come up with different modes of communication and attempt to get the other’s off the station as soon as possible. 

Personal Opinion!

I really like Fallen Star, more so than I liked the other adult novels of the High Republic. I think the reason for that is because the story was more localized. I had really struggled with reading the first two novels of this series because I felt like they jumped all over the place. The stories were great, but I felt like every time I started to get attached to a character, or was really learning more about them, we would jump to a different character, handling a different situation on a different part of the galaxy. That is not to say that I didn’t enjoy them, It just took me a really long time to read. Fallen Star was different. All of the characters were pretty much in the same area, dealing with the same situation and managing the same struggles and difficulties in the force. 

I really loved that they tied the story up well, while also leaving the ending opened for more. I finished the book late last night and was shocked with how the Epilogue concluded, but it left me craving more, which I guess is the point. I think my favorite part of this story is Elzar’s “redemption”. Rising Storm found Elzar leaning into the dark side of the force, while this story found him clawing his way back to himself and what it means to be a Jedi. Personally, Elzar is my favorite character from the High Republic as I feel like he isn’t just a straight forward Jedi. He struggles with disconnecting from his emotions, he struggles with his feelings for those around him and with forming attachments to others. Honestly, Elzar really reminds me of Anakin in a lot of ways, and while Anakin couldn’t find a way to pull himself back from the dark side until later in his life, Elzar found a way to do it which I thought was really cool to see. 

Final Thoughts 

Overall, the first three adult novels of the High Republic are quite the story and a must read if you love Star Wars. Fair warning, the series can be slow and dragging at times, but it is definitely worth it. Even just to read Fallen Star, it would be worth it. I would probably give Fallen star 4 stars, with the first three novels as a trilogy getting 3 stars as a whole. Now on to Tempest Runner. 

#star wars #star wars novels #the high republic #elzar mann #Jedi Knight #fallen star #burryaga #stellan gios #marchion ro #avar kriss #bell zettifar #book review #books #book reccs #starlight beacon #claudia gray #trilogyy

[dasnercaret]

when will minecraft caves and cliffs come back from the war...

#philza minecraft #philza fanart #minecraft #minecraft fanart #minecraft 1.17 #not the happiest with this one but it turned out alright #the geode in the corner is my favorite part #philza #i forgot the og character tag what am i doing with my life #filling up queue with my rambles apparently #woo

[gayferatu]

I hope it's okay if I request a Hobbit imagine real quick! My birthday's coming up relatively soon, on February 14th (Valentine's Day), so I'd really love to know how Fili, Kili, Thorin, Bilbo, Bofur, Ori and Dwalin (if that's not too much) would celebrate their s/o's birthday. I love your imagines, so this'd be a wonderful early birthday present! Thanks so much!

HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY LOVELY!!!! I hope you like it

Fíli :

 Fíli would subtly be trying to figure it out weeks beforehand. Asking around in your friend group or even family members and making them swear to secrecy. He wouldn't settle on 1 gift, he would want to make the day special for you, filled with smiles and small gifts hidden for you throughout your chambers. Small trinkets throughout your day.

 Waking up to him kissing you awake, whispering all the sweetest words to you, a happy birthday between pecks to your lips. You'd find small wrapped gifts by your washbasin, new soaps and hair oils in your favourite scents. Breakfast in bed after you come back from washing up, all your favourite foods arranged on small platters and as you slither back under the sheets, he'll feed them to you, kissing your hair and cheeks and shoulders as you chat about the day ahead. He won't be working today, knowing the best gift would be his presence and time with how busy a Durin heir is but that doesn't stop him from spoiling you with all your favourites today! You will spend a long time in bed before setting off around lunch time, a small picknick outside of the mountain by a herb garden.

 Later, you will have celebrations with your friends and family, and of course the company. Even Thorin takes time from his schedule to make an appearance. Fíli takes your to your chambers beforehand, a new beautiful black velvet gown set with silver lace waits for you there. This gift is more for him, he realises as you wear it, looking resplendent but he hopes you like it anyway. He'll braid new silver beads into your hair, made them for you himself, exactly to your liking and style. You wonder where he found the time, not knowing he's been planning this day for weeks.

 Your celebration takes deep into the night, ale and wine flowing, and you dance with Fíli for hours until everyone is tired and slinks off, the music tapering down and when you find yourself back in your bedroom, he'll help you from your gown, rubbing your tired body gently as your two relax back into the bed for your last present.

Kíli :

 Kíli would be less subtle. He'd have been asking months in advance, accumulating your likes and dislikes from the source. He'd do anything to get the gift you wanted, work tirelessly for it or pay a fortune. But of course, he'd also want to spend the day with you, probably take you out of the mountain early in the morning, perhaps to the woods and soak up the fresh air and sunlight on goatback. He wouldn't be returning you to the mountain until evening, having planned a nice long ride to a hotspring at the other side of the mountain.

 Once there he'll lay out blankets, take out the food he's brought and you'll eat together, joking and laughing, and he'll give you your gift while trading stories and catching up on eachother's lives and jobs, finally having the time for it. He'll have brought cards and games and you play until noon when the sun is high and warm in the sky and you both make way to the hotsprings. Of course it doesn't take long until there's splashing and messing around and competitions of who can hold their breath the longest. You let him win. And then you let him do other things.

 When you return to the mountain you'll celebrate with your loved ones and enjoy the rest of the day, retiring to your rooms with Kíli later, snuggling up and sleeping in late the next morning.

Thorin :

 Thorin would probably make you something with his own hands, a black leather belt with ornate throwing knives encrusted with aquamarine cabochons set in silver.

 He'd have a feast planned for you, half the mountain in attendance. A king throws a party in style, of course. Your favourite flowers decorating the tables, Durin colors replaced with your own likings for the day. There'll be music and he'll commandeer a harp to play you  sweet love songs after getting egged on by Fíli and Kíli but he doesn't mind, really. The smile on your face worth the slight embarrassment of having to perform in front of everyone.

 He'll take you back to your chambers earlier when he notices you tire of the festivities and you two make your leave quietly and he'll give you his gifts there, in private. He'll probably serenade your quietly, his own harp sounding better, his low rumbling tones relaxing you as he sings you to sleep.

Bilbo :

 Oh, he'd be so sweet about it. Planning a more than one party for the day, one for just the two of you, the other later, the whole of Hobbiton will likely be in attendance.

 He'll decorate Bag End after first breakfast and you go out for a walk with some encouragement from Bilbo. Garlands and colorful and nicely scented candles placed everywhere in the dining room, a surprise second breakfast upon it, cooked up in a storm as he doesn't have much time. But he secretly prepared a lot of it already, the night before. Small pastries with jam fillings, sugar cookies and biscuits, decorated with your name and small "Happy birthdays!" in the icing.  Lovely tea with rosepetals and lavender and honey. And a pretty bracelet that he slips on your wrist after you've indulged yourselves with the food, sweet tooth satisfied. Gold and silver chain with a cute carved onyx charm on it shaped like a flower.

 Later, a grand party in the field. Gandalf is there, plenty of fireworks in tow. There's music and dancing and drinking and it's so much fun you actually go to bed exhausted that night, wrapped up in your favourite Hobbit's arms.

Bofur :

 Bofur's a romantic. Not everyone knows it, but he is. He loves to hold your hands and kiss every finger in private moments. Likes to nuzzle your cheek and press kisses to the corner of your mouth, mustache and beard tickling you. He also loves to take you on dates to Dale, walk with you hand in hand from stall to stall, pointing out deals to eachother and shopping. That's how you'd spend this day too, I think. Together, doing mundane things but he's so sweet it will feel like a special occasion. You eat small savory snacks wrapped in tiny parcels in the streets of Dale, drink sweet cherry wine in a small inn, sitting at a table in the back, fingers interlocked on top of the table, just spending quiet, loving time together until later. 

 He'll give you his gift upon returning to the mountain, in your chambers. He mined it himself, he proudly proclaims. A beautiful, football sized geode in the shape of a heart, with sparkling amethysts. He explains that when he found it he knew he had to give it to you, that it was the mountain's gift as well. It's beautiful and you place it on your bedside table, the firelight catching it and making it refract the light on the stone around it.

 There's a party that night, your closest friends and family, the company all there. Dancing, singing, joking and reminiscing. Many tall tales told this night from the mouths of Kíli and Fíli. You all may drink a bit too much. Way too much. It may end with a King snoring on the table, a Dwalin draped over him, nearly crushing him, just as unconscious. You'll remember this night forever.

Ori :

 Oh, Ori. So sweet. Library dates? Library dates. But not today, he'll drag himself from the darkness for you, take you out walking with him, shyly holding your hand. He'll have knit you things. Fingerless gloves with delicate stitches in black yarn. A matching hat and scarf. He'll blush at the sight of you wearing it, happy to have given you things to keep warm with. 

 A small leather bound book finds its way into your hands as well, put there hastily by him, declaring you should read it later, when you're alone. They'll contain little poems about you, haikus and notes, sweet thoughts that he has about you accumulated here in his neat penmanship. Dried and pressed flowers and herbs between some of the pages, sketches of other plants. It's sweet and must've taken a long time to make.

 He probably won't plan a party, but his brothers will pick up the slack. A rented small pub packed with all your favorite people. Ori will stay by your side all night, even shedding some of his shyness after a couple ales, fingers locked with yours as you dance on a merry tune late that night. Giving you small kisses when he thinks no one is looking. Bigger kisses when he's sure about it. And more later, when you drag him back to your room.

Dwalin : 

 Dwalin is practical. He doesn't really ask about your birthday preferences beforehand. Instead when you wake in his arms in the morning, he's already awake and gruffly congratulates you on turning a year older. He'll congratulate you a lot. If you get my drift. 

 His gifts are practical as well, things you needed, and have mentioned to him in the past. Nice to know he cares and listens, right? He wordlessly slips a silver ring with a small white gem onto one of your fingers after, this one a little less practical and more like a promise but he knows the significance of rings to humans and his cheeks feel warm under his beard as though he'd just slipped a marriage bead onto a braid in your hair. It's cute.

 I don't think he'd want to part with you a single moment or share you with anyone today. Celebrations will wait until tomorrow, he had decided and spends all day catering to your whims. No request denied even if you get cheeky with them. He'll just huff a small laugh and do it anyway. Rub your feet, kiss you once, twice, thrice, twenty times. Fetch that quill, and regretting it when you set upon him with it, tickling him. His only weakness that only you know. But he won't mind, loving your laughter and grins and he'll get his revenge later anyway.

I HOPE YOU LIKED IT! It got a bit long lol

Requests still open!

#hobbit #the hobbit #the hobbit fic #hobbit fic #hobbit imagines #hobbit imagine #thorin #thorin oakenshield #fili #fili durin #kili #kili durin #bofur #bilbo #bilbo baggins #ori #dwalin #dwalin fundin

[eri-223]

Destiny 2: when the cold day comes

Jenev Furnon has both hands on that thorny gun, eyespots sprouting green from its tangles, when she decides whether or not to shoot the Drifter. Will the way this started make any difference to the way it ends? Guardian/Drifter, 3k, rated T

Jenev Furnon has both hands on that thorny gun, eyespots sprouting green from its tangles, when she decides whether or not to shoot the Drifter.

She focuses on the reticule on his chest instead of the black-clad people approaching through the trees. Leaves swirl around her and fall to the spongey ground, the first warning bells of autumn coming to the emerald coast. The trap has snapped shut. The gambit, the opening play in a quiet war, has given way to Shadows at the edge of her vision. Guardians startled mid-match have already been transmatted out, leaving her and these black-cloaked, masked cultists, and the Drifter himself.

(Her Drifter?)

Jenev is a Hunter, so her questions all imply action.

1. Which one should she aim at first?

2. Are the Shadows of Yor coming to help or hurt her? After all, she holds Malfeasance. She clawed toward that old title—but was it for the same reason?—it was for a different cause—

3. Is she as complicit as they are?

4. Will the way this started make any difference to the way it ends?

Weeks earlier.

It starts on a hot, humid night in the Tower, wind blowing like a murderer’s breath. Someone else’s fireteam is going after Cayde’s killers, insists a nervous beat in the back of Jenev’s head. She taps her fingers against her knife, blue-silver Awoken hands against blue-silver metal. The Fallen from the prison and that rogue prince killed him, people say. Out there in the Reef, rocks spin in long, crazy orbits and Tower law is a rumor and a suggestion. The Tower there is as optional as gravity. That’s Jenev’s world (not Reefborn but Reef-tugged, Hunter-born, fond of wild space and the unknown) and she can’t go there now. With other Guardians on the trail, she thinks as her stomach curdles, she would just get in the way.

Another new horizon has opened up in her world. Visions of jade coins won’t leave her: that carefully edged stone, the luck of the draw, the Drifter’s dragging shuffle. She has been throwing herself into Gambit, win or loss, seeing motes in her sleep and wondering whether the rumors of Shadows were true. So she goes to him, ducks under the grated door (half-closed like he doesn’t want visitors, like he’s hiding something), and they talk about coin tricks.

Half the time he looks away, even turns half-around like he doesn’t know she’s there. But he keeps talking, and eventually they’re both leaning against the glowing machine near his workbench, so that when he turns it’s toward her. Fluorescent light casts neon glow, turns shadows into pitch. She toys with her braids, digging blue fingers into black strands. And his scarred face is very close, and his hands are very quick, and she wonders what horrors she can manage to forget on a night so hot the air seems hateful.

They talk about sleight of hand and the weather and the frustrations of being a Hunter grieving for her Vanguard, and then when he balances a jade coin across his knuckles she snatches it from him and takes his hand. Meets his eyes while she turns his hand over, places the coin in his palm and strips the padded gauntlet off, folding the coin inside clammy cloth. His hand is scarred too, ugly bar-punch ripples of tissue across his knuckles. For someone with a Ghost, marks mean vanity. Jenev’s stomach aches.

“Who are you?” she asks.

“Who do you want me to be, ma’am?”

Coy. Fool. Perfect. She’s happy to mix the interrogation with the purr in his voice, so before she speaks again she pins his hand to the curve of her hip. The glove crumples onto the floor. “It’s no secret you work with dark things. How do I know I can trust you?”

“Work with ‘em? I bind ‘em. Doesn’t matter what you work with if you’ve got a knife to it’s soft parts.”

“Funny. I was about to say the same thing.” She draws her own blade. The blue-etched sheen glints in his eyes as she presses the flat to his cheek, against the three too-clean scars. “Let’s say I’m not a Guardian tonight. If I’m just a Light thing, looking to bind you…?”

She shifts the knife to his lips. He grins, wicked, then licks the flat of the blade.

It’s easy to sheath the knife while he moves back against the neon, drawing her against him with his bare hand. On the plaza, a heavy rain begins. No one will see us, Jenev thinks. No one will turn that corner, duck under that door. When she kisses him he tastes sour, his beard scratching against her cheeks. Her world becomes heat, static, warm rain on her face. And then she remembers who he is, who she is, the suspicion with which she flavored her attraction. Maybe it should have been more than suspicion.

She pulls back, slams her hands onto the machine to either side of his head with breaking force. They’re both breathing loud, winded as the invader after the fourth kill. The Drifter licks his lips and hums, ambitious and satisfied all at once.

She stays close enough to feel his lips against hers as she speaks. “Let’s get you in that arena. See how you are against the Taken.”

The Drifter smiles, slow. “How many times have I seen you die? It ain’t pretty for anybody, but what are bodies for Guardians? Ghost’ll raise you right up.” His gaze sharpens. “But you.... There’s even grace when you fall. When you become little bitty embers, I just wanna scoop ‘em right up.”

The Drifter’s problem, Jenev thinks, is that he talks too much. But there is such promise in his words. She speaks of a thinly-held belief to get her bearings. “You’re a fool if you think primevals will prepare us for that prince.”

He interrupts her. “You want training, go talk to Shaxx. That ain’t my job, sister. You want blood … I think I do my part all right.”

She talks over him right back. “I said, let’s see you in embers for once.”

She kisses him again, feels the jolt as the back of his head hits the plastic. Jenev raises a hand to his throat, sharpened silver nails like knives. They both like to fight, so she gives him just the suggestion of blades against paper-thin skin, and then puts her other arm around his shoulders and sighs against his neck because it wasn’t all fight. He supports her while she clings. The grief for Cayde has retreated, or devolved into a smaller creature.

“That’s enough of an answer for me,” she says.

“All right.” He shrugs like he doesn’t care, but meets her eyes with a concerned softness.

“Hunters make bets.” She moves backward, hand still outstretched. “Ten wins, and we can try this again. See if you can kiss better with practice.”

“Your wins?” He looks at her calmly and stretches his arms above him, showing off. “What exactly is the losing part of this bet, darlin’?”

“Doesn’t seem to be one, honey.”

“’Til next time.”

The grief has faded. She slips the coin she stole from him out of her pocket, and makes sure he can see it between her fingers before she turns the corner.

*

After the ten wins, he calls her.

“I’m opening up a new Gambit arena in that Dreaming City. Want to scope it out? I’ll give you a behind the scenes look.” His drawl turns slavering, sometimes.

She says yes.

Her Ghost, Iris, asks questions all the way to the Dreaming City. She’s practical and warlike, and both she and Jenev are comforted by one another’s speech even if they often tune it out. Iris memorized the major armories’ catalogues. Her Ghost is a Warlock, Jenev jokes sometimes.

And then the Drifter ushers her through a silver door into the Cathedral of Scars. The beauty of the crystals and plants makes her want to touch every surface, see it all from every angle.

“How did they let you into this place?” she asks.

“What, because I’m not Awoken?”

“No. Because you’re …” You. Even as an Awoken, she doesn’t feel a connection to this impossible place. Nevertheless, its majesty replaces more personal worship easily. How was it preserved for so long? What invisible cosmic dust is coating all of those jeweled pathways, all of those geodes glistening with water? Her distant cousins keep secrets. And here’s the Drifter, exhaling greed, owning a patch of the place. She resists gesturing at him, especially because she would be too tempted to touch him if she tried. “Not exactly the Vanguard’s favorite.”

“I know the Ascendant Plane, sister. This world touches it like clothes on skin. Doesn’t matter what the Vanguard thinks if they don’t know. Me and Petra worked some things out.”

They walk toward the sunlight, across shining floors.

He thinks himself so separate from the Tower, Jenev considers, but Ikora surely knows more about him than she lets on. After all, she controls the Hidden, the long arms of the Tower. Eris Morn, one of the Hidden now, had even been in a place not so different from the Drifter’s situation years ago. People hadn’t trusted Eris either, but through secrets and service she had become a part of the Tower. If Jenev asked what the Drifter thought he was getting away with unbeknownst to the trio, she wouldn’t get a true answer.

Duo.

The correction thunders through her.

The Drifter gestures her forward. Before they walk into the courtyard (beautiful, fragile) she gets his attention, back of her fist to his shoulder like a fireteam friend. He pushes her back, flat of his palm, and laughs. It’s the thrill of a new place, a strange place. The steps far ahead of them, beyond the plaza that will be the backfield float impossibly out beyond a foggy cliffside. Hunter wanderlust and the memory of kisses in the Tower drives her forward. She wants to talk to the Drifter forever and she wants to make him wait before she speaks.

“Lots of ways to mess a place like this up,” she says. Explosions in the crystals. Gilding ripped off the walls. Gold melted in sun-fire. Guardians were going to chew throughthis place. Good. She thrills to know she’ll see it. Let the Reefborn know they aren’t untouchable.

On the edge of a cliff stands a blue-purple platform, like a sequoia trunk sliced low and transformed into crystal. The surface is smooth but not slippery. The Drifter lays out a picnic: spring rolls and bread thick with grains, one cup and a bottle of a blue-black drink she doesn’t recognize, busy with bubbles.

“Soon they’ll be killing on every inch of this place,” he says.

The wind blows gentle, spiked with the acid scent of the endless drop. Trees wave, sending leaves spilling down. “Good. Get them ready for the ugly stuff.”

“There’s beauty in that too, sister. Death always brings out the vitality of things.”

Speaking of that. “Let’s talk about my ten wins, if you so much want death.” Pride bubbles in her chest, along with impatience. “I challenged you too.”

In answer he shifts closer to her, one leg stretched beside hers on the violet stone and one arm propped up on his other knee. His fingers brush her thigh so lightly she can barely feel them, just a prelude. The kiss isn’t sour, isn’t clean or furious as their first had been: it’s messy and whole-hearted and tastes like mint and ozone. She sits up against him, pressing her fingers deep into his hair and under the bandana where it scrunches against the back of his neck. He’s sweat-salty and lost, and when the kiss ends he pulls away from her bright-eyed and with a laugh that heaves up from him like a drumbeat.

*

When the Shadows do come, the wind is high and loud. Jenev stands in the emerald coast, listening to it roar grim and impersonally hateful as apocalypse. The Shadows of Yor are a hooting band like she imagines Prince Uldren’s Fallen allies to be, but the shapes under dark cloak are all Guardians. They attack mid-match, as the Drifter planned they would. She was in Gambit herself, which of course was also part of the plan, since she has the gun.

Figures flicker between the trees.

The Drifter himself marches across the grass, without a war helmet, pistol in hand. “Let’s go, sister. If we take ‘em out, we end this!”

In surprise and fear, she points Malfeasance at him.It startles him, an honest expression she isn’t used to seeing.

Light, she wants to help him. She wants to fight by his side, to wear his mark, to leave her marks on him. But what if her first instincts were right, the ones that said she couldn’t trust him? What if he’s smarter than he appears to be, and can hurt the Vanguard? If she took him out for just a moment, stopped the game with the very gun she earned from her devotion to it, she would be changing the tide of the Shadows on a whim. What power! But it would be a whim, chaos sewn. She’s used to acting on impulse.

She looks back and forth between the Drifter and the people lining up, careful as a high noon standoff, at the tree line.

She knows the Vanguard wouldn’t want her consorting with shadows, but Cayde was always irreverent and the other two are shattered with grief. Loyalty to the Tower has always come second for Jenev: second to her instincts, second to her wants. She knows now that she can please both sides: the Vanguard of the Light will want the Shadows of Yor dead, and the Drifter will want to draw attention to his game. After Cayde died, the whole world feels more gray.

Neither the Vanguard nor Cayde nor the Drifter nor Jenev herself would benefit from her staying her hand against Dredgen Yor’s followers. She has no love for the Shadows. She teeters on the edge of a cliff, and there’s no harm for a Guardian for following that impulse to jump.

She carefully takes one hand off Malfeasance to flash the jade coin at him, the one she stole. Please understand this message. I’m gambling right now. I’m performing sleight of hand. The Shadows are frozen in confusion. She sees him take his first breath since she raised the gun.

Then she steps onto the backfield and fights. The Shadows swarm, person-shapes becoming monstrous. Malfeasance screams in her hands. Maybe the gun is the only part of her that feels for the Shadows. Hive magic! It exalts. Twins-in-Darkness! She rejects whatever grief she imagines for it.

She sees almost immediately how the Drifter plans to shake the Shadows. He has unleashed some of the Darkness he keeps, trapping the Shadows in a zone where their Ghosts struggle to raise them. She feels it too, but she isn’t the one trying to gain ground. Interesting to have the upper hand, to be the one creating the mess instead of cleaning it up. Especially if the Shadows never reveal their leader. To them, it’s an exploratory cut. To the Drifter, it’s a slaughter.

She pumps the trigger. A Shadow drops, his chest a broken blur. Others rush forward, and she takes the opportunity to burn up and throw knives into three of them before they can recover. She sidesteps and returns fire. They’re good, but she has Malfeasance, and the Shadows can’t break into the space between her and the Drifter’s backs.

She sees him spin his pistol like a trick shooter behind the nearest Shadow. Crack of a shot, loud and almost echoing, and that one goes down.

Then it’s over, almost too easily. This wasn’t the real thing, she thinks immediately. They were testing us, too. Two remaining Shadows fade into the forest.

She holsters her gun, hardly seeing the landscape in front of her any more. Will the Shadows come back? What did they learn?

The Drifter moves closer to her, looks down at her with absent calm.

“They’ll be back with more,” she says.

“What did you think would happen, sister? We took down what, ten of ‘em? That’ll give the old man a message. They’re recruiting fast these days.”

Malfeasanse seethes at her back. Am I a recruit? “This gun brought them out already. And they didn’t wait around to hand me pamphlets. Guess I don’t fit their criteria even if I do have it. Which means we can bait more.”

“Game’s gonna accelerate now,” he says.  

“Come here,” Jenev says.

He’s looking into the middle distance, back toward where the Shadows arrived. She grabs his arm, pulls hard enough that he stumbles.

“I’ve earned this,” she says, and kisses him on the mouth. She can feel his sly smile, can see it as clearly as if she was beside them instead, watching human-pink lips on Awoken-silver. There’s a smile, too, in the way he holds her around her shoulders. She curls her hands into fists at the small of his back, tenses for a moment before she gives in to herself and presses further against him.

“There’s still one more step,” he says against her cheek.

“The man with the Golden Gun.” She pulls far enough away that she can look into his eyes. Immediately they grab for new holds on one another, her hands on his jacket, his at her waist. “I don’t know what’s going to come of that. I’ve heard how you growl. Keep secrets if you want; I’ll watch my own back.”

Some of his talks with other Guardians in the Tower brought out a defensive anger in him. It’ll shake the walls if the time is ever right.

He laughs. “We sure understand each other. Together until it ain’t convenient any more, right, lady?”

“Until the Ascendant Plane collapses or one of us gets distracted.” A pirate’s life ...

So what, if someone else avenged Cayde? The sidelines are where Jenev lives, and she’s good at it.

“Glad to have you along,” says the Drifter. “Until the next cold day comes.”

The freedom of a dark forest, an unspoken promise to crash like a wave over her grief. She would not need him when her wandering was over, she thinks. She would not need him forever. Neither of them wants him to become an addiction, and so, Jenev, also, would comfortably drift.

#Destiny #writings #The Drifter #Drifter/OC #Jenev Furnon #with thanks to exordiumnoctis

[gennshaughnessy]

Samhain is right around the corner, I’ll be over here celebrating it the rest of the month. Just wait until you see some of the images from a recent Photoshoot I did. I may or may not have held a human skull in my hand. Until then, Here’s my favorite image from one of the best photo shoots I was honored to be a part of. They had me at Cemetary. Image Circa September 2011 for Cap City Models Calendar put out by Mike Schinnerer Model: Christina Plumadore Photographer: Dan Doyle Creative Director: Mike Schinnerer Makeup: Genn Shaughnessy Hair: Phillippe Bevan #samhain #halloween#allhalloweseve #halloween #allsoulsday #allsaintsday #allantide #CalanGaeaf #cemetary#DayoftheDead #grave#harvestfest #harvest #autumnequinox #gravestone #headstone #feastday #ritual #spell #magic #magick #leather #spiritmagic #coven #ancestralmagic #crystals #stones #geodes #kitchenwitch #witchybitch #witchyshit (at Albany, New York) https://www.instagram.com/p/CVLGxkQrrs9/?utm_medium=tumblr

#samhain #halloween #allhalloweseve #allsoulsday #allsaintsday #allantide #calangaeaf #cemetary #dayofthedead #grave #harvestfest #harvest #autumnequinox #gravestone #headstone #feastday #ritual #spell #magic #magick #leather #spiritmagic #coven #ancestralmagic #crystals #stones #geodes #kitchenwitch #witchybitch #witchyshit

[sector-z-knd]

“Explain to me again why we’re here.”

“To chuck rocks, of course! This is the best place to do it, because the water’s clear enough so that you can see all the rocks at the bottom and find the ones that make the biggest splash.”

Lenny and Constance meandered along the banks of the little creek, the slowly winding water trickling past with a merry burbling sound. In all honesty, this isn’t where the girl would have chosen to be on a Saturday afternoon, but even she could agree that a break was needed from David′s overbearing conspiracy theories. And so, when Lenny had offered to take her somewhere quiet, she’d punched David in the chest and run.

This was at least a kajillion times quieter than being around David during his rants. Now that she thought about it, this place was actually kind of peaceful. The slums were way behind them, there wasn’t a soul in sight, just birds chirping away over their heads. Even the water running past them was clear, which was surprising, considering how close to the city they were. In a way, it was like stepping out of the world and into a bubble of solitude. She could understand why Lenny came here so frequently. Constance absently kicked a pebble into the water, where it landed with a ‘plunk!’ and sank to the bottom. 

“Nah nah, you gotta find a bigger rock!” explained Lenny, crouching down and systematically picking through several stones, tossing aside the ones that didn’t meet his mental criteria. Without paying heed to her single raised eyebrow, the boy made an ‘aha!’ sound and finally unearthed a rock that was roughly the size of his head, hefting it with some difficulty. “This’ll do!”

Constance brought up her other eyebrow as she leaned forward and inspected the seemingly ordinary stone. “And you just... throw it into the water?”

“There’s more to it than that. You think about whatever’s bothering you, say it to the rock, and then throw it in! Mom says river spirits carry your words downstream and that washes the sad thoughts out of you. Goodbye, bothers!”

“I thought nothing ever bothered you,” came the quietly curious response, the girl tilting sunglasses so she could look up at Lenny over the tops. She watched as his smile faded slightly and the lights dimmed in his eyes.

“Well... I try not to let things bother me, but sometimes they do, and I just gotta let ‘em out, you know?” He was staring at the rock, as if materializing his troubles on its rough surface. “I figure this is a good, safe way that doesn’t actually hurt someone.”

“...hm.” The girl backed away to allow the boy space to lift his rock in the air and test its weight. “Is this what you always do when you get mad?”

Lenny swung the rock experimentally, trying to find just the right swing to get the biggest splash. “Not always. Sometimes I talk to you, or I go to my room and count the stars we pasted to the ceiling, or I find a snuggly totally-not-a-Rainbow-Monkey monkey to hug.” He grinned when he heard her chuckle; they both knew he had two Rainbow Monkeys and those toys were the snuggliest things he owned. 

She nearly jumped out of her skin when Lenny suddenly yelled, “I hate it when Numbuh 0.1 stays up until 2 AM and then tries to get me to go on a mission with him!” 

The air was suddenly filled with the sound of several spooked birds vacating the immediate area.

 “...what. Was that,” Constance hissed once she thought it was safe to speak again, lowering her hands from the fists they’d ended up in. Never in her life had she heard Lenny say anything with quite the amount of force and volume as she’d heard him yell at a dumb rock. The boy tilted his head in confusion before realization dawned on his dark features.

“Oh, yeah, well, this is part of the rock throwing thing. You yell what makes you mad at the rock and then you throw it. Like this!” With a whoop, he swung the stone in a pendulum motion, releasing it at its zenith. The geode sailed through the air as well as a rock could fly before landing with a loud splash in the middle of the creek. With a whistle of satisfaction, Lenny grinned and put his hands on his hips.

“Is that it?” Constance asked, leaning her elbow into his ribs.

The boy nodded, putting his arm on her head. "Yeah, that’s the only thing that’s been bothering me.”

A comfortable silence descended between the two, one that was familiar to her as simple I’m-happy-you’re-here silence. She would never admit it, but knowing Lenny would come out into the middle of nowhere just to chuck rocks into a river was kind of comforting. It meant he was human, and underneath all his joy and sweet understanding, he was still as scared and insecure as she was.

“What about you?”

She blinked a few times as she was abruptly pulled from her thoughts, and she glanced up at the boy. “Hm?”

The corner of his mouth was pulled up in a questioning smile. “Don’t you have any bothers you need to get out?”

Constance’s eyes widened a little as she realized too late that he now expected her to do the same as he had done. She hastily stepped away, folding her arms tightly. “No,” she growled, suddenly wishing she were back at the treehouse and listening to David’s conspiracy theories. Okay, maybe she didn’t want to be that drastic, but she also didn’t want to go yelling her ‘bothers’ at a rock, let alone chuck said ‘bothers’ into a stream to be heard by freaking water spirits.

Lenny didn’t say anything, but she could tell from the sudden static in the silence that he was thinking. After a moment, he crouched down and picked up a small, perfectly smooth stone, holding it out to her. She glanced down at it, then into the boy’s big, brown Bambi eyes. 

“One bother?” he asked, face innocent.

She looked flatly at the stone. “This is dumb.”

“It’ll make you feel better.”

She groaned, but finally relented and gingerly took the stone from his hand. “I say things into it and toss it in, right?”

Lenny nodded.

Still grumbling, she glared at the rock, at a loss of what to say. She raked through her short-term memory, trying to find something that had bothered her. “I... hate it when Numbuh 0.3 eats all the dark chocolate before I can get any?” She glanced at Lenny, who gave an approving nod, and she tossed the rock into the water, where it settled to the bottom with an almost dissatisfied plop. As soon as she started to turn away, another rock was held out to her by Lenny.

“I know you have more bothers in you,” he smiled, giving her that gentle, knowing look that she hated because she knew he was right. His tone was warm and soft, like a blanket fresh from the dryer. “You can let it out here. It’s just me and the river.”

She stared at him a long moment, almost long enough for him to start fidgeting, before she snatched the rock from his hand and growled, “I hate when my dad tries to cook three-bean casserole, because it’s my favorite and he always burns it.” 

This stone was flung into the river with a little more force than the one before. Another rock was held out to her. She grabbed it without hesitation, her voice getting louder with every word.

“I hate that Numbuh 0.2 leaves his toenails on the bathroom sink.”

Plunk!

“It’s dumb when Mr. Benetiz says I can do more with my homework even though I’m already trying my best.”

Plunk!

“No one ever told me that the science fair was going to be rigged, I mean who actually votes for a baking soda volcano?!”

PLUNK!

“I wish Jerry would just mind his own business instead of trying to copy my 2x4 designs!”

PLUNK!

“AND I WISH-” she yelled as she grabbed the nearest object, “-THAT A NEW EPISODE OF STEPHEN GALAXY WOULD COME OUT ALREADY!”

“Wait, Consta-AAA!”

KA-SPLOOSH!

Water splashed onto her sunglasses and she blinked. 

That wasn’t a rock she’d just thrown into the water. 

That was Lenny. 

Constance stared at Lenny, who was sitting in the creek, dark patches soaking through his yellow shirt. Very slowly, the girl breathed in and out through her teeth, making a hissing sound that was laden with concern, anxiety, and embarrassment. “Um... Sorry?” she shrugged, unsure of whether she should extend her hand to help him up or throw some more rocks on him.

Lenny blinked once, water dripping from his dreadlock hair. Then, slowly but surely, he smiled. A small sound bubbled up from him, then another, until the boy was giggling. His giggles soon turned into genuine laughter, the boy throwing his head back and laughing without abandon.

...what a nerd.

She couldn’t help but share in his laughter, not because she was happy with his situation, but because he had managed to find joy in something as inconvenient as getting thrown into a river. 

It took some time for their laughter to die down long enough for Lenny to pull himself out of the water, but she finally stuck out her hand and pulled him up. He flopped on the creek bank, giggle-snorting as he wrung out his hair. Constance plopped next to him, wiping the tears from her eyes with her sleeve.

“Got all your bothers out?” joked Lenny, elbowing her arm with a snicker.

Constance grinned back at him before her expression softened into something that made him pause. Quietly, she picked up a small, smooth stone and held it close to her mouth, whispering something before tossing the rock into the creek.

Lenny watched it settle against the large rock he’d thrown in earlier. “What did you say to that rock?”

“Nothing important,” she lied, and though he knew it was a lie, he made no response besides scooting closer. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing important,” he lied, and though she knew it was a lie, she made no response besides leaning against his arm. 

The river carried her words from that rock downstream, where it mingled with other bothers that had been tossed into the water. The river spirits listened to her words over and over, giggling with delight as they bottled it next to the wish of the boy who had come to their waters so many times.

#Numbuh 0.4 #Lenny #Sector Z #KND #S.C.R.I.B.B.L.E. #IntuitionGloves #SkewerBlueprints #Constance #cute #Self-care #fluff #F.I.C.T.I.O.N.

[stacylaughs]

April 25 - May 3, 2019

I had some misconceptions of the City of Light before I arrived, but honestly, I love it now. Paris is so beautiful I feel like I’m in a Disney movie when I’m there. 

The Eurotunnel connects the UK with the rest of the continent, so it’s recommended to take the Eurostar from London St Pancras International Station to Paris Gare du Nord, but that was more expensive than easyJet (£85.38 + £16.49 for hold luggage aka a checked bag). If you’re after a cheaper way to reach Paris, budget coaches make the 10-hour journey daily.

It seems like everyone speaks perfect English but they don’t want to, which is fair, as it’s their country I’m visiting. The worst part of Paris is the ongoing cloud of cigarette smoke everywhere, and partially because of this, I smelled some of the worst body odor on others, but also some people had the best perfume I’ve ever smelled before. So, hmm.

I flew into Paris Charles de Gaulle (CDG), and it was super easy to take RER and the Paris Métro into the city. The RER has its own separate charge, but I bought ten tickets for the Métro to get one free ticket. Then, using Google, it was very easy to map out directions for the rest of my trip.

The first night I stayed at St Christopher's Inn Canal for €26.90. I enjoyed the location, right by Canal St Martin, where it was easy to grab a drink or bite to eat, sit by the canal and enjoy Paris the local way. 

While there, I also enjoyed:

Parc des Buttes - A beautiful park that offers some of the best panoramic views over Paris. And it has a waterfall!

Parc de la Villette - This massive park houses museums, concert halls and theaters. Going down the SLIDE, and, then, seeing la geode was a highlight of my trip.

Pere Lachaise Cemetery - Spend an hour exploring one of the most prestigious and popular cemeteries in the world. Come pay your respects to Jim Morrison or Oscar Wilde.

Le Cent Quatre - An artist space hosting performances and events from all corners of the globe. Sit there and watch some local dance crews rehearse.

My favorite to place to stay was MIJE Fourcy Fauconnier Maubuisson for €28.37 a night, because of the location, within walking distance of L'As du Fallafel (the best!), Notre Dame Cathedral (can you believe the fire happened days before I arrived?!), and Saint Chapelle (simply gorgeous). I also stayed at Aloha Eiffel Tower for €27 a night, but did not like the location (more residential and so far south) or accommodation.

Just a few notes:

I was there for the riots they expected on May Day - the French being French, I suppose. Métro was not running and I wasn’t sure what would be open, so I saw Avengers: Endgame, which was a great three hours!

I ate croissants for every breakfast, baguettes with fresh cheese and cured meats for lunch, and casseroles and steak frittes for dinner. I made sure to have eclairs and meringue, but regret not having macarons or a crêpe smothered in Nutella chocolate spread from vendors on the street. 

If you scheduled your days right, you could get a museum pass to save money, but I couldn’t be bothered to see so many things in a short period. A lot of Paris museums are free the first Sunday of the month, which would be great if you’re around, but I’m sure they’re very busy.

The Musée d’Orsay was disorganized in layout, in my opinion, but I thoroughly enjoyed the entire top floor. I purchased the joint ticket (€21) which included the Rodin Museum, which was just alright. Had to see The Thinker, I guess.

If you spent 60 seconds looking at each of the objects at the Louvre (€17), going steadily for eight hours a day, it would take you 75 days to see them all. It is simply enormous. I chose to book a 2-hour tour on Airbnb with Hugo ($43.61), which was well-worth it.

I personally enjoyed the bookstore, Shakespeare & Company, because I found a quiet corner to read a book for an hour -- but I understand most people find it chaotic. 

I loved walking around the Montmartre district and up to Basilica of the Sacré Coeur, but didn’t make it to Moulin Rouge (nearby). 

Visit the Champ de Mars and then walk around the iconic Eiffel Tower or pay to take the stairs up for views over the city (because the elevator takes too long).

Spend a day at the Palace of Versailles (€27)! Check out Kaitlyn’s guide to Versailles here. I’ll never forget the swans swimming in the grand canal at sunset.

I enjoyed drinking Angelina’s hot chocolate while walking through Tuileries Garden and then along the Seine River.

I liked viewing the ceiling of Galeries Lafayette Haussmann and jumping on the suspended trampoline. 

I flew out of Paris Orly Airport (ORY) because it was closer, and a convenient €19 Uber ride. I did have to search my flight number on Google to figure out my terminal, because it was nowhere on my ticket or invoice.

I’d really love to return to Paris and visit these spots (in no particular order): Moulin rouge, Opera garnier, Refuge des fondus, Phonomuseum, the catacombs, Luxembourg Gardens, Grand Palais, Musée national des arts asiatiques, Pompidou centre (national museum of modern art), Église Saint-Eustache, Bistro Paul Bert, Merci department store, La Gaite Lyrique, Anticafe work spaces, Harry NY bar (where Bloody Marys were invented), Arc de Triomphe, Pierre Herme pastry, Popelini cupcake, and Centre Pompidou.

#paris #france #travel #travelparis #eurotrip

[kronecker-delta]

Burning Pain Skeleton Part 4

The conclusion to the Rita Skeeter section.

The time was just before noon, and Harry and Professor Burning Pain Skeleton were seated at the foot and head of a wide, long, flat slab of obsidian, in a dank and dark appointed private cell with thoroughly uncomfortable blocks of granite and iron chains , and woven black steel hanging from the walls. They were about to eat lunch in Mary's Place, or more correctly a deep and forgotten hole beneath it, which Professor Burning Pain Skeleton had said was known to him as one of the best restaurants in Diagon Alley, especially for - his voice had rose meaningfully as did the light that issued from his maw - certain dread and terrible purposes for which you must not speak! It was the nicest… restaurant that Harry had ever been in, and it was really eating away at Harry that Professor Burning Pain Skeleton was treating him to the meal. Or would he supposed, if her had ordered anything but murky oil that bubbled hollow geode turned bowl. Each of the polished gems along the side reflecting some lost and forgotten world in the light cast by the inferno of his teacher. The first part of the mission, to find an Occlumency instructor, had been a success. Professor Burning Pain Skeleton, smiling more evilly than normal, had ordered Griphook to recommend the best he knew, and not worry about the expense, since Dumbledore was paying it; and the goblin had smiled in return. Or started to, before the heat had caused the poor man to faint. There might have been a certain amount of smiling on Harry's part as well… and some fainting as well. He didn’t quite remember how he left after all. Or really how the got to where ever they now where. Underground and ordering food from from a bored witch chewing bubblegum. "NO FOOD WENCH," screamed Professor Burning Pain Skeleton to the waitress, "WE NEED NOT YOUR PATHETIC PAPER MATS OF PRICES. I WILL HAVE UNCOOKED LIVERS AND A BOTTLE OF CHIANTI, MY DISCIPLE WILL HAVE ONE DISCIPLE MEAL… WITH SMALL CULTIST COKE." The waitress, clad in robes with a plastic name tag that still looked severe and formal while being rather shorter than usual and garish to the extent that they hurt Harry’s eyes to look upon, continued loudly chewing her gum as she finished writing down their order before leaving. Professor Burning Pain Skeleton waved a hand in the direction of the door, and a bolt of red crackling power welded the hinges slid shut. Now they were locked in. Together. "NOW WE ARE ALONE! THIS IS KNOWN AS MARY’S ROOM, AND HERE NO SPIRIT EYES CAN SEE OUR DARK BUSINESS. EVEN DUMB-BORE CAN NOT VIEW OUR SPARKS OF THOUGHT HERE. BE PROUD DISCIPLE. BY EATING HERE YOU NOW SIT WHERE COUNTLESS PROSTITUTES AND CORRUPT POLITICIANS HAVE SAT! THE GREATEST OF YOUR TRAGICALLY YOUNG AND UNBURNING RACE!!" "Really," said Harry slowly. Professor Burning Pain Skeleton nodded furiously. “YES!!” Harry's lips were parted in anticipation. And a little fear as he began to realize that there were no vents in the room. And he was trapped with a fire, an eternal burning hate flame shaped as a man. "It would be a waste to just sit here and... eat? Lunch that is, without doing anything special." Professor Burning Pain Skeleton grinned, then took out his wand and flicked it in the direction of the door. "SILENCE!" he screamed, "WE SHALL BE HIDDEN FAR DARKER THAN MERE FORNICATORS!!! NOW WE ARE TRAPPED! SEALED TOGETHER TILL I WILL IT NOT!! TILL I, AND I ALONE, ALLOW YOU LEAVE FROM THIS FORGOTTEN PLACE!!” Professor Burning Pain Skeleton then spoke no fewer than six plus six different Charms, none of which Harry recognized. Though given how his ears stung perhaps that was for the best. "THIS ALONE WILL NOT BE SUFFICE," said Professor Burning Pain Skeleton as his flames simmered. "WERE WE TO DO ANYTHING TRULY DREADFUL HERE IT WOULD TAKE ANOTHER THREE BY THREE BY THREE DARK WARDS TO MAKE US SAFE! IF THE WORD WITCH KNEW US TO BE HERE, SHE MIGHT HAVE HIDDEN WITHIN A CLOAK OF LOST LIGHT! OR BE FORM CRAFTIER GRANTED SOMETHING TINY AND VERMINOUS! I COULD CHECK FOR THOSE TOO! BUT I WOULD DO THEM BY ENGULFING THIS ROOM IN BLISSFUL CONFLAGRATION, AND YOU ARE YET CURSED BY THE WEAK FLESH! PERHAPS YOU WISH TO BE FREE OF IT NOW!?" And Professor Burning Pain Skeleton tapped a finger talon on his cheekbones, looking abstracted. AS if the light bent wrong about him. "It's fine," Harry said, "I understand, and you don’t need to trouble yourself." Though he was a little disappointed that they weren't doing anything of truly dreadful. "THEN WE BEGIN," Professor Burning Pain Skeleton said with loud imposing tones of dreadful intensity. He leaned back on his slab, which popped and cracked beneath his glowing bones, smiling frightfully. "YOU HAVE DONE WELL DISCIPLE! YOU HAVE IMPRESSED EVEN ME! THE WORD WITCH IS VANQUISHED! THE INBREED FOOL WILL BE DISPLEASED BY HIS FAILURE!! IF HER BRAIN SPARKS RIGHT SHE SHALL FLEE THIS TOO WET HELL BEFORE THE CLOSEST STAR RISES NEXT MORNING!!" A sinking sensation began to dawn in Harry's stomach. "Lucius was behind Rita Skeeter...?" "YES! IT IS QUITE INSANE ISN’T IT?!" said Professor Burning Pain Skeleton. Harry hadn't thought about what would happen to Rita Skeeter afterward. At all. Not in the slightest. But she would get fired from her job, of course she would be fired, she might have children going through Hogwarts for all Harry knew, and now it was worse, much worse - "Is Lucius going to have her killed?" Harry said in a barely audible voice. Somewhere in his head, the Sorting Hat was screaming at him. Professor Burning Pain Skeleton smiled dryly as the air around him crackled and caught a flame. The air was running out. "I HATE THE WRITERS OF NEWS! THOSE THAT WOULD DARE RECORD MY EXPLOITS!! I ALONE SHOULD PUT FLAME TO PAPER AND SCORCH MY HISTORY WITHIN THE DREAD TOMES!!" Harry jumped out of his chair with a convulsive movement that almost had him falling to the floor as the heat rose around him, he had to find Rita Skeeter and warn her before it was too late - "SEAT YOURSELF DISCPLE," Professor Burning Pain Skeleton said as sharply as his favorite sacrifice dagger. "THE OILY HAIRED ONE WILL NOT KILL HER! HE IS NOT HIS WORTHLESS SON!! BUT HE IS STILL A CRUEL TYRANT OF HIS TINY WORTHLESS DOMAIN AND WILL STRIVE TO MAKE HIS DISPLEASURE KNOWN!! THE WORD WITCH WILL HIDE HER NAME AND FACE! NOW YOU MUST LEARN!!!" Harry sat down, slowly gasping for air as the oxygen level fell. There was a disappointed, annoyed look on Professor Burning Pain Skeleton 's face that was doing more to stop him than the words. It etched itself into his mind. Even when he closed his eyes he stared into him still. "PATHETIC," Professor Burning Pain Skeleton said, his voice cutting through the stifling air, "THAT YOUR SHARPENED SNAKE CLAN MIND IS WASTED ON YOUR WEAK FLESH ADDLED SOUL! REPEAT AFTER ME! THE WITCH WOMAN DESERVES TO- BUG!!! Professor Burning Pain Skeleton screamed a deathly cry that shook the stones around them. Black pitch issued forth from his mouth as he pointed at a flying beetle that had settled upon the table near Harry’s hand to steal some of his warm watery gruel as the heat grew too great to endure. Professor Burning Pain Skeleton leaped onto the table, wings of hell flame rising to the ceiling and melting the iron chains around him. Harry saw hell. And hell fell upon him. He fell backwards from the table backing away as Professor Burning Pain Skeleton stomped on the table. His mouth a spigot of fire and sound. Dark inarticulate cries of demonic curses that made the air bleed coal ash. But even within that… perhaps it was madness. Or death’s grim hand upon his heart as the air grew thin. But he could hear him crying out. “I HATE BUGS! HATE! HATE! BUGS! I HATE BUGS! HOW DARE THEY SURVIVE MY INFERNO?! CRAWL OUT FROM UNDER ROCKS AND MOCK ME!! MOCK MY FLAME WITH THEIR PERSEVERANCE!!” As he demolished the table Harry backed away to the corner, eyes wide in terror. A terror shared by a tiny blue beetle hiding in his hair. He did indeed never hear from Rita Skeeter again after he woke up. Though he wasn't quite sure who undid the charms on the door...

#MY dumb fanfic stuff #writing #HP MOR #burning pain skeleton