#and NO ONE EVER EXPLAINED WHY OUR ENTIRE TOWNSHIP HAD NO BLACK PEOPLE - IT WAS WEIRD HOW NO ONE TALKED ABOUT IT. FUCK SUBURBIA MAN!

[andthebeanstalk]

Today, I am learning about Malcolm X, and the way he talks about white liberals really struck a chord with me.

I also found this quote from him about John Brown, a white abolitionist who went to war for his beliefs and helped push America towards civil war. I only learned about John Brown from my very racist AP US History teacher, Mr. Green, of Hampton Township, at Hampton High School, in D Hall, who lied to us and said the Civil War wasn't about slavery. And so this'll shock you, but I never learned about Malcolm X in school! Anyway, Malcolm X says:

“We need allies who are going to help us achieve a victory, not allies who are going to tell us to be nonviolent. If a white man wants to be your ally, what does he think of John Brown? You know what John Brown did? He went to war. He was a white man who went to war against white people to help free slaves. He wasn’t nonviolent. White people call John Brown a nut. Go read the history, go read what all of them say about John Brown. They’re trying to make it look like he was a nut, a fanatic. They made a movie on it, I saw a movie on the screen one night. Why, I would be afraid to get near John Brown if I go by what other white folks say about him. But they depict him in this image because he was willing to shed blood to free the slaves. And any white man who is ready and willing to shed blood for your freedom—in the sight of other whites, he’s nuts. As long as he wants to come up with some nonviolent action, they go for that, if he’s liberal, a nonviolent liberal, a love-everybody liberal. But when it comes time for making the same kind of contribution for your and my freedom that was necessary for them to make for their own freedom, they back out of the situation. So, when you want to know good white folks in history where black people are concerned, go read the history of John Brown. That was what I call a white liberal. But those other kind, they are questionable. So if we need white allies in this country, we don’t need those kind who compromise. We don’t need those kind who encourage us to be polite, responsible, you know. We don’t need those kind who give us that kind of advice. We don’t need those kind who tell us how to be patient. No, if we want some white allies, we need the kind that John Brown was, or we don’t need you. And the only way to get those kind is to turn in a new direction.”

#original #malcolm x #john brown #racism #anti-racism #allyship #civil rights #american civil rights movement #my schooling left out a LOT of stuff that seemed to be left out for no other reason than it would make us confront modern racism #i went to a school that was like 99% white and the other 1% was Asian i didn't have a full conversation with a Black person until I #was already in high school. it was fucking bad and that system produced a LOT of racists i mean a LOT #i had to unlearn a lot of things in order to try and become the kind of white person that doesn't suck for people of color to be around #we were never taught outright that Black folk are inferior but we were instead taught that racism is over and we needn't worry about it. #aka we were taught that any incidences of modern racism were essentially harmless and exaggerated. which is so deeply evil and insidious. #and NO ONE EVER EXPLAINED WHY OUR ENTIRE TOWNSHIP HAD NO BLACK PEOPLE - IT WAS WEIRD HOW NO ONE TALKED ABOUT IT. FUCK SUBURBIA MAN! #You don't have to tell a white person racist beliefs to make them more racist. We'll pick those up from our segregated environments. #No no you'll have much much more success by telling him that his apathy and his aggressive dismissal of racial issues is valid. #ALL YOU HAVE TO DO is place a child in an all-white environment in America... and change nothing. #WE HAD KIDS WITH CONFEDERATE FLAGS ON THEIR TRUCKS. IT WAS FUCKING ///PENNSYLVANIA/// - WE WERE IN THE UNION. Y'ALL. #and now that kid's probably a cop if i had to guess #anyway fuck racism and fuck you mr. green and i am gonna do a lot of reading on malcolm x on my fucking own i guess #edit: *All you have to do is place a white child nearly ANYWHERE in America and change nothing. #If you're white and not teaching your kids anti-racism then you have failed them and you have failed the people of color in this country #also why tHE FUCK would you put your child in an all-white school i mean test scores be DAMNED who DOES that?!

[niseamstories]

10 Lessons on Realistic Worldbuilding and Mapmaking I Learned Working With a Professional Cartographer and Geodesist

Hi, fellow writers and worldbuilders,

It’s been over a year since my post on realistic swordfighting, and I figured it’s time for another one. I’m guessing the topic is a little less “sexy”, but I’d find this useful as a writer, so here goes: 10 things I learned about realistic worldbuilding and mapmaking while writing my novel.

I’ve always been a sucker for pretty maps, so when I started on my novel, I hired an artist quite early to create a map for me. It was beautiful, but a few things always bothered me, even though I couldn’t put a finger on it. A year later, I met an old friend of mine, who currently does his Ph.D. in cartography and geodesy, the science of measuring the earth. When the conversation shifted to the novel, I showed him the map and asked for his opinion, and he (respectfully) pointed out that it has an awful lot of issues from a realism perspective.

First off, I’m aware that fiction is fiction, and it’s not always about realism; there are plenty of beautiful maps out there (and my old one was one of them) that are a bit fantastical and unrealistic, and that’s all right. Still, considering the lengths I went to ensure realism for other aspects of my worldbuilding, it felt weird to me to simply ignore these discrepancies. With a heavy heart, I scrapped the old map and started over, this time working in tandem with a professional artist, my cartographer friend, and a linguist. Six months later, I’m not only very happy with the new map, but I also learned a lot of things about geography and coherent worldbuilding, which made my universe a lot more realistic.

1)  Realism Has an Effect: While there’s absolutely nothing wrong with creating an unrealistic world, realism does affect the plausibility of a world. Even if the vast majority of us probably know little about geography, our brains subconsciously notice discrepancies; we simply get this sense that something isn’t quite right, even if we don’t notice or can’t put our finger on it. In other words, if, for some miraculous reason, an evergreen forest borders on a desert in your novel, it will probably help immersion if you at least explain why this is, no matter how simple.

2)  Climate Zones: According to my friend, a cardinal sin in fantasy maps are nonsensical climate zones. A single continent contains hot deserts, forests, and glaciers, and you can get through it all in a single day. This is particularly noticeable in video games, where this is often done to offer visual variety (Enderal, the game I wrote, is very guilty of this). If you aim for realism, run your worldbuilding by someone with a basic grasp of geography and geology, or at least try to match it to real-life examples.

3)  Avoid Island Continent Worlds: Another issue that is quite common in fictional worlds is what I would call the “island continents”: a world that is made up of island-like continents surrounded by vast bodies of water. As lovely and romantic as the idea of those distant and secluded worlds may be, it’s deeply unrealistic. Unless your world was shaped by geological forces that differ substantially from Earth’s, it was probably at one point a single landmass that split up into fragmented landmasses separated by waters. Take a look at a proper map of our world: the vast majority of continents could theoretically be reached by foot and relatively manageable sea passages. If it weren’t so, countries such as Australia could have never been colonized – you can’t cross an entire ocean on a raft.

4)  Logical City Placement: My novel is set in a Polynesian-inspired tropical archipelago; in the early drafts of the book and on my first map, Uunili, the nation’s capital, stretched along the entire western coast of the main island. This is absurd. Not only because this city would have been laughably big, but also because building a settlement along an unprotected coastline is the dumbest thing you could do considering it directly exposes it to storms, floods, and, in my case, monsoons. Unless there’s a logical reason to do otherwise, always place your coastal settlements in bays or fjords.

 Naturally, this extends to city placement in general. If you want realism and coherence, don’t place a city in the middle of a godforsaken wasteland or a swamp just because it’s cool. There needs to be a reason. For example, the wasteland city could have started out as a mining town around a vast mineral deposit, and the swamp town might have a trading post along a vital trade route connecting two nations.

 5)  Realistic Settlement Sizes: As I’ve mentioned before, my capital Uunili originally extended across the entire western coast. Considering Uunili is roughly two thirds the size of Hawaii  the old visuals would have made it twice the size of Mexico City. An easy way to avoid this is to draw the map using a scale and stick to it religiously. For my map, we decided to represent cities and townships with symbols alone.

 6)  Realistic Megacities: Uunili has a population of about 450,000 people. For a city in a Middle Ages-inspired era, this is humongous. While this isn’t an issue, per se (at its height, ancient Alexandria had a population of about 300,000), a city of that size creates its own set of challenges: you’ll need a complex sewage system (to minimize disease spreading like wildfire) and strong agriculture in the surrounding areas to keep the population fed. Also, only a small part of such a megacity would be enclosed within fantasy’s ever-so-present colossal city walls; the majority of citizens would probably concentrate in an enormous urban sprawl in the surrounding areas. To give you a pointer, with a population of about 50,000, Cologne was Germany’s biggest metropolis for most of the Middle Ages. I’ll say it again: it’s fine to disregard realism for coolness in this case, but at least taking these things into consideration will not only give your world more texture but might even provide you with some interesting plot points.

 7)  World Origin: This point can be summed up in a single question: why is your world the way it is? If your novel is set in an archipelago like mine is, are the islands of volcanic origin? Did they use to be a single landmass that got flooded with the years? Do the inhabitants of your country know about this? Were there any natural disasters to speak of? Yes, not all of this may be relevant to the story, and the story should take priority over lore, but just like with my previous point, it will make your world more immersive.

 8)  Maps: Think Purpose! Every map in history had a purpose. Before you start on your map, think about what yours might have been. Was it a map people actually used for navigation? If so, clarity should be paramount. This means little to no distracting ornamentation, a legible font, and a strict focus on relevant information. For example, a map used chiefly for military purposes would naturally highlight different information than a trade map. For my novel, we ultimately decided on a “show-off map” drawn for the Blue Island Coalition, a powerful political entity in the archipelago (depending on your world’s technology level, maps were actually scarce and valuable). Also, think about which technique your in-universe cartographer used to draw your in-universe map. Has copperplate engraving already been invented in your fictional universe? If not, your map shouldn’t use that aesthetic.

9)  Maps: Less Is More. If a spot or an area on a map contains no relevant information, it can (and should) stay blank so that the reader’s attention naturally shifts to the critical information. Think of it this way: if your nav system tells you to follow a highway for 500 miles, that’s the information you’ll get, and not “in 100 meters, you’ll drive past a little petrol station on the left, and, oh, did I tell you about that accident that took place here ten years ago?” Traditional maps follow the same principle: if there’s a road leading a two day’s march through a desolate desert, a black line over a blank white ground is entirely sufficient to convey that information.

10) Settlement and Landmark Names: This point will be a bit of a tangent, but it’s still relevant. I worked with a linguist to create a fully functional language for my novel, and one of the things he criticized about my early drafts were the names of my cities. It’s embarrassing when I think about it now, but I really didn’t pay that much attention to how I named my cities; I wanted it to sound good, and that was it. Again: if realism is your goal, that’s a big mistake. Like Point 5, we went back to the drawing board and dove into the archipelago’s history and established naming conventions. In my novel, for example, the islands were inhabited by indigenes called the Makehu before the colonization four hundred years before the events of the story; as it’s usually the case, all settlements and islands had purely descriptive names back then. For example, the main island was called Uni e Li, which translates as “Mighty Hill,” a reference to the vast mountain ranges in the south and north; townships followed the same example (e.g., Tamakaha meaning “Coarse Sands”). When the colonizers arrived, they adopted the Makehu names and adapted them into their own language, changing the accented, long vowels to double vowels: Uni e Li became “Uunili,” Lehō e Āhe became “Lehowai.” Makehu townships kept their names; colonial cities got “English” monikers named after their geographical location, economic significance, or some other original story. Examples of this are Southport, a—you guessed it—port on the southernmost tip of Uunili, or Cale’s Hope, a settlement named after a businessman’s mining venture. It’s all details, and chances are that most readers won’t even pay attention, but I personally found that this added a lot of plausibility and immersion.

I could cover a lot more, but this post is already way too long, so I’ll leave it at that—if there’s enough interest, I’d be happy to make a part two. If not, well, maybe at least a couple of you got something useful out of this. If you’re looking for inspiration/references to show to your illustrator/cartographer, the David Rumsey archive is a treasure trove. Finally, for anyone who doesn’t know and might be interested, my novel is called Dreams of the Dying, and is a blends fantasy, mystery, and psychological horror set in the universe of Enderal, an indie RPG for which I wrote the story. It’s set in a Polynesian-inspired medieval world and has been described as Inception in a fantasy setting by reviewers.

Credit for the map belongs to Dominik Derow, who did the ornamentation, and my friend Fabian Müller, who created the map in QGIS and answered all my questions with divine patience. The linguist’s name is David Müller (no, they’re not related, and, yes, we Germans all have the same last names.)

#enderal #dreams of the dying #worldbuilding #resource #writeblr #writing tips #mapmaking #cartography #illustration #realism #writeblogging #novelwriting #writing research #research #writing

[dainty-baneberry]

Prompt #19: Where the Heart is

“Oh shite and bollocks.” Jessie cursed fluidly, seeing the smirking Au Ra sitting on the counter.

“Jessie.” Cid Garlond frowned, scolding the co-president of Garlond Ironworks for her rudeness. “Yeah, yeah.” Jessie groused, rolling her eyes at Cid and leveling a finger at the Warrior of Light. “Dainty and the Scions come first. I know! Jes have him back before dinner!” “Best I can do is tomorrow, lunch time.” Dainty retorted, jumping nimbly down from the counter where she had been chatting to E'bolaff, a pretty white haired MiqoTe woman. Jessie, her fury as red as her hair, went stomping off in a fine pique at having to do both her own and Cid's work for the day while the man himself was off playing “Hero”. If it wasn't for the fact that Cid playing Hero very often meant that Dainty was empowered to save their entire damn Star from what would serve it ill Jessie would have a lot worse to say than “shite and bollocks.” “I was not expecting to see you today.” Cid observed as Dainty approached him. Despite the fact he claimed her as a lover he rarely knew where she was at any particular time. He had learned well to expect her when he saw her. “I need you t'take me near t'Moraby Drydocks in the Enterprise.” Dainty explained, occasioning Cid to frown. “Moraby Drydocks? They've an Aetheryte...” “I said near to.” Dainty stressed. “Ah. Right.” Cid nodded, quickly calculating that he could set his personal airship down in the cliffs of the Empty Heart, just to the southwest of the Drydocks which would allow her to proceed to the docks on foot. And unseen. For some reason or another she was desirous to get into the small port town without anyone being any the wiser. Were she to teleport in via Aetheryte twelve or more merchants, maelstrom troops and citizens would know of it instantly. He could not help but wonder what sought of fight would require her to enact such secrecy; “Is everything alright?” “Oh yes.” Dainty smiled lightly at him, tucking a long mint green lock of hair behind one cranial projection as they boarded the aircraft. “Tis a personal mission today.” This was stated with a little gesture at her attire and Cid noted she wore a simple dress of black linen that, despite its lack of ornamentation, fit her body exceedingly well. His confusion kicked up a notch leading Dainty to add with a giggle. “I seem to recall you asking what a girl like me was doing a-bed with a man like you the other night.” Cid, who had just approached the wheel of the Enterprise to take off started violently.

“You heard that?!” He had thought her wholly asleep. Dainty smirked and flicked one of her horns. “I hear everything.” The noise of the Enterprises engines prevented further conversation and the airship was soon churning smoothly through the air, heading for La Noscea. The only witnesses to their arrival was a couple jackals, that quickly scattered as the airship came to rest near a wind worn stone arch. Dainty tucked her hand into Cid's to tug him from near the wheel, indicating that he was to join her on this trip into the Drydocks. “What are you playing at?” Cid couldn't help but wonder, the light sea breeze momentarily fluttering his bone white locks. “You'll see.” Dainty grinned, leading him to a white stone wall that marked the edge of the township that was built into the seawall itself. She climbed over it neatly, and dropped onto a simple, mud tiled roof. Cid followed her lead and within a few moments they were standing on the rough stone balcony that skirted one of the upper level dwellings of the Moraby Drydocks. Below them the general inhabitants of the town had no idea so illustrious personages as Cid Garlond and the Warrior of Light were in their midst, and Dainty aimed to keep it that way. She moved quickly to one of the simple, unfussy dwelling doors and knocked on it. Cid believed he could hear the sounds of a party from within. There was certainly someone bellowing quite loudly about someone needing a fresh drink. A large seawolf Roegadyn man pulled open the door, a scowl fixed upon his features. With green skin and pale eyes he looked quite startling, glaring across the threshold until he suddenly recognized one of the persons  on the doorstep. “Dainty Baneberry!” “Hello, Sterrthuv Rostyndynsyn.” Dainty greeted, pronouncing his name flawlessly. She did not need to ask for entrance as the man instantly backed up, turning and fully running into the dwelling to yell “Everyone! Everyone! Dainty Baneberry is here!” Dainty gave a giggle, and led Cid in fearlessly. They had barely made it through the narrow hallway when a Hellsguard Roegadyn male, one of the largest Cid had ever seen, came barreling towards them at an unseemly speed. “DAAAAIINNTTTYYYY BAAANNEEEBERRRRYYYY!” Laughing Couerl howled, his delight to see his sister, conspirator and partner in crime was truly boundless. Completely oblivious to Cid's presence Laughing Couerl seized Dainty around the waist and swung her up onto his shoulder, as if he a pirate she his parrot. He then returned in the direction whence he came, with Dainty balanced in place, and laughing madly as he did. “Do not mind that pair. Truly they have been as thick as thieves since the day she fished Laughing Couerl out of the bay.” A softly spoken Roegadyn woman appeared in the space that had been emptied. She was very pretty, with soft ocher eyes and light gray hair. “I am Meek Wind, please do come in.” Confused but good natured enough to be easily adaptable to conversing with strangers Cid allowed himself to be shuffled into a smallish living room where a large assortment of various food stuffs had been laid out. He was provided with a beer before it finally occurred to him what he was seeing. It was a family reunion. Dainty had a family. She had never spoken of them. Not even once in the entire time he had known her. The most she had ever said about any sort of family, or familial connection was that despite her amnesia she had a lingering sense of knowing her parents were dead. That there was no one out there, searching for her. She had never mentioned having been adopted into a large Roegadyn clan but it was undeniably that these people considered her kin. Especially Laughing Coeurl, who was refusing to relinquish his sister to the other siblings so that she could be hugged and given something drink. Cid couldn't help but chuckle to see the interactions, watching Laughing Coeurl and a pair of Doman sisters haggling over Dainty. One of the soundly stomped on Laughing Coeurl's toes to occasion him to drop Dainty, at which point the other swept her away to visit with her. Cid couldn't help but snort with laughter, truly he had seen Dainty pull that exact same trick of stomping on someones toes when arguing 100 times if he had seen it once. “Oi, yer that Engineer fellow, aintcha?” Yet another Hellsguard Roegadyn man spoke these words, there was so many of them, Cid was absolutely certain he would never be able to keep track of all their names but that did not mean he wouldn't try. This one managed to be even larger than Laughing Couerl and had with him two small daughters that were playing quietly with some blocks. “Cid Garlond, at your service.” “Garlond! Thats it. Garlond Ironworks.” “Aye, that's my company.” The sole Miqote among the many Roe faces gave a light whistle and there was a wholly admiring glint to her stilted eyes as she gave Cid a slow once over; “That wanderrrring sister of ourrrs would find such a prrrize to bring home t'Mama.” “You hush, Delicate Willow.” Meek Wind scolded but it was all playful and in good fun. She shot Cid a small, conspiratorial smile. “Dainty Baneberry is the favorite daughter, you understand. Not only did she save Laughing Couerl's life but the gil she sent home saw our Mama cured of the Sweating Sickness.... “.... and not to mention, she's the blessed Warrior of Light, now isn't she! Thal's Balls none of us will ever compete with that!” Defiant Rose added, joining them from outside with a grin.

“Not that we should ever be fool harrdy enough to trry.” Delicate Willow agreed with a little fluff of her tail. “We darrre not even publically acknowledge herrr ourrr sisterrr lest it be used to harrrrm her.” Delicate Willow's head cocked in the exact same way that Dainty's did as she regarded him “Methinks you've an idea of that.” “I cannot deny it.” Cid agreed, seeing no reason to deny what the woman had already deduced. He and Dainty dared not speak of their relationship outside the confines of their sometimes shared bed lest he be used to manipulate her by those looking to gain power over the Warrior of Light. Dainty clearly trusted these people deeply, he had never seen her relax and play so easily except with himself. “Well, Cid getcher drink and come on outside so the others can gawk at you.” Defiant Rose insisted, gesturing at the doors that lead to the small back yard. “I think you mean meet-the-others?” Meek Wind suggested gently and Defiant Rose grinned at her.

“Yeah. Sure.” Cid found himself questioning how often he had heard Dainty say “Yeah, Sure.” in just that same unflappably sarcastic manner in vast amusement. There were even more Roegadyn outside and Cid very quickly lost track of who was who. He believed he had come to understand, however, that today was their “Mama”, Joyful River's name day and her most fervent wish had been to have all her children with her. She had had 5 by birth, two to her first husband and three to her second. Both of whom she had had to unfortunately bury. 14 more children had come to her by way of adoption, of which Dainty was the 14th and final one. There were 5 boys. 2 by blood and 3 by adoption and 14 girls. 3 by blood and 11 by adoption. Joyful River's first husband had been a high ranking Yellow Jacket whom had had a hand in the breaking up of more than one child slave trading ring, which explained why there were so many girls. Joyful River had been sent into Limsa Lominsa for the day, for a visit to the Aesthetician and was due home shortly, giving the children time to lay out a feast. It wasn't until Cid saw Dainty in the context of her family that he realized her name was a Roegadyn one. He had always known her simply Dainty, or occasionally Mistress Baneberry. Only hearing her siblings addressing her wholly as Dainty Baneberry did it make sense that she belonged with this wild, sprawling clan as much as any other adopted child like Delicate Willow, or Pale Dove or Singing Orchid. Seeing they way they all hugged her, lifting her off her feet and twirling her around was incredibly enlightening to Cid. All of a sudden Dainty made sense in a way she never had before. There was little wonder she like it when, in their private bedroom play, he lifted her or otherwise man-handled her. She did not find such behavior off-putting, or demeaning but rather safe and exciting. All the siblings, barring Delicate Willow, the two Doman girls and a Hyur fellow seemed to have some inside joke about hefting their tiniest sister as if she were not a ruthless, steel eyed Warrior. A veritable liberator of Nations.

He suddenly did not question why she, the prettiest Au Ra he had ever seen, who could have any man she wanted, would desire him, a pureblood Garlean. His height in comparison to her, and his broadly muscular body, would be familiar and reassuring to someone whose siblings dwarfed her so wholly that she could sit on Laughing Coeurl's shoulder, one leg delicately cross over the other. He got it now. What a “girl like her” saw in him. She saw a man cut from the same cloth as her family but given to her same predilections to adventure.

Cid fell easily into conversation with Sterrthuv Rostyndynsyn and some of the others around him. They had many stories about their Dainty Baneberry's exploits during the 5 years she lived at home. Although Laughing Coeurl had been the only sibling technically living there at the time all the siblings were close at hand, and visited their Mama and each other constantly. And they wanted to hear Cid's stories of Dainty. He learned that she rarely spoke of her Adventures across the realm to her siblings and although they respected that they were desperately curious to learn of her most daring triumphs. She rarely spoke at all around them, Cid observed. Her stoicism and silence, at least, was wholly unchanged for being in the company of her siblings despite her laughter being much freer. Cid was more than happy to entertain them with a rendition of battling Omega in the Interdimensional Rift while they all took turns keeping look-out for Joyful River returning home. Defiant Rose quickly hushed everyone when the Matriarch of the clan was at long last seen entering the Drydocks. Everyone quickly fell to silence with the exception of Laughing Couerl, who simply could not be quiet for even a moment. Dainty, finally managing to wrest herself free of the very many hugs her siblings felt the need to festoon upon her, dropped herself into Cid's lap at long last. He put her arms around her unerringly to support her body and allow her to relax for an ilm. He had no fear of being affectionate to her around the wholly physically affectionate family. “Laughing Couerl, I can hear you all the way from the North Gate, my goodness!” Joyful River exclaimed as she entered her home and saw a small mountain of food that had not been there when she left. “And what...is....all this.....Oh!” Joyful River's eyes went wide, seeing a painfully familiar Au Ra sitting in a sea of Roegadyn faces. Her wandering daughter, the one that went Adventuring to the far side of the world and back. Returned home, even if just for a little while.

All the other children faded into the background, as did the white haired stranger. Dainty barely had time to stand before Joyful River had dropped her things to run to her and swept her into a crushing embrace. “Oh! My heart. My heart!” Joyful River cried happily into Dainty's hair, just clinging to her for several moments. “Like we said. She's the favorrrite.” Delicate Willow smirked to Cid. “Just because my heart is where she is does not make her my favorite.” Joyful River insisted, finally releasing Dainty to step back and wipe away a few errant tears. “I have no cause to fret over any of you!” “Favorite.” Defiant Rose insisted, earning her a light scolding from her Mama. “Nonsense! I simply see you all so often and know you all to be hale and hearty! Dearest Dainty Baneberry, however...” “Dearrrest.” Delicate Willow teased and Joyful River elected to soundly ignore them to instead smile once more at Dainty. “Never mind that. I am so happy to see you.” She stroked Dainty's cheek gently, then finally looked behind her to perceive Cid sitting there calmly and smiled, eyes a light with curiosity. “And...who is this young man you've brought to meet me?”

Dainty's mouth curled into a sweet smile.

“Mama, this is Cid Garlond...”

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite #ffxivrp #writeseptember

[billyboisfangirlarmy]

The Bowers Girl

Patrick x Bowers!Sister!Reader

(Y/n) is the sweet sis of Henry Bowers. But what happens what she becomes infatuated with the Phycho of Derry?

This is a series!!

/////////

(Y/n) POV:

I swept my bag over my shoulder and hurried out of the car quickly. The car filled with the best trash Derry could form together. The four boys I hate to even call acquaintances, and even worse one of them is blood related. Henry is my big brother by one year. He’s different to say the least. Growing up with him is difficult. It has been ever since mom left and dad started drinking a whole lot more than he should. He hurt Henry on a regular basis. He’s never been physically abusive to me, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t abusive at all. He plays mind games with me. He’ll manipulate me into doing the things he finds fit and then brushes me away as if his daughter means nothing to him. Which it doesn’t.

Victor is nice, quite, and he can be a little annoying, but one of the better out of the four. Belch is the nicest one. He’s like the big teddy bear who would protect me if I ever got into trouble, but it still doesn’t change the fact of what he does is wrong.

Then lastly comes Patrick. He’s dangerous to say the very least. He’s always avoided me. Well physical contact at least. He’ll speak to me briefly, but once when my fingertips brushed over his knee as I was getting into the car, he freaked out. Viciously rubbing away anything I would’ve left behind. Ever since the slight brush of contact he does his very best to avoid touching me.

I look over my shoulder seeing my brother hop out trying to look like a hardass. I roll my eyes turning back to the front and going inside the building. I waste no time going to my class and seeing my friends all piled up in their seats. I walk over setting my bag on the floor and taking my seat next to Richie Tozier. “Hello, hello, hello beauty. Where’s your beast? I’ll fill the spot if it’s empty!” He speaks in an accent and leans on me. I push him off laughing. “Empty and it’s staying empty.” “Y-Yeah. Can you even think of what would happen if B-Bowers found out you w-w-were with anyone?” Bill says knowing my brother would beat any boy to a bloody pulp for treating me with any more than friendly eyes.

“You should come to the quarry with us today (Y/n)!” I roll my eyes at the comment. “I’ve been trying to go with you guys for the past year. I don’t think it’s going to happen.” Bill huffs and goes to sit in his seat. I feel really bad for blowing them off so many times, but it’s not like I can say I’m going out with the group my brother hates. He’d surely kill me!

Class goes on as usual, right up until Patrick strolls in late. “Ah Mr. Hockstetter. 30 minutes late. A new record, even on the last day of class. Please take your seat.” The teacher says to him, not asking for a hall pass because it would be pointless. He looks at me and sits down beside me where he was placed.

I feel his dark eyes drifting over my body. The slight sting of the pupils causing beads of sweat to magically appear. I turn to my right to see him staring at me. “What is it?” He smirks seeing my noticeable nervousness. “We’re all going camping tonight. So Henry said you’d want to stay somewhere else. Or you could go with us, but that’s not happening.” I look at him bewildered. “And why not? I can go if I want.” Patrick rolls his eyes and laughs mumbling something I cannot make out.

I turn to Bill to my left and wink at him. He smiles knowing I’ll be sneaking out after school to see my friends.

The day continues on normally up until I prance outside to see the thunderbird pulling away. “Wait! Henry! What the fuck!” I catch Belch’s attention and he looks confused as ever. Henry points forward, but Belch declines. “Henry what the hell? Are you trying to leave me stranded?” He looks at me with blank eyes. “Think twice before talking with those losers. You can walk home.” Belch looks at me apologetically and slowly pulls off at Henry’s orders.

I walk over to Stan who is walking alongside the other boys. “Hey there guys.” they all turn to me in shock. “Whoa! (y/n) Bowers actually going to have some fun for a change?” “Shut up Richie!” “We’re all really glad you’re here (y/n). You can meet Ben!” Eddie says as he motions to a little fat boy.

I smile and stick my hand out for him. “Hi, my name’s (y/n) Bowers.” At the mention of my last name he backs away slowly. “S-she wont hu-urt us Ben. She’s the n-nice one.” Ben physically lets down his brick wall and shakes my hand. “I’m sorry. Henry just really scares me. I had a run in with him last week.” Ben pulls up his shirt allowing me to view the H carved into his skin. The wound scabby and red. My eyes stare longer than they should.

I look up to meet Ben’s eyes with mine full of sorrow. “I’m so sorry Ben. I do know he did get punished for losing his knife. I guess this was around the same time. I wish I could’ve stopped him.” Ben shrugs pulling his shirt down. “It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize. I’m just glad there’s a Bowers out here who doesn’t hate us.” We all laugh at Ben’s sad by truthful statement.

As we make our way to the Quarry an omnibus feeling consumes me. I look down at the storm drain as we pass and for a second I think I see something or maybe even someone, but when I look closer nothing is there. Damn mind tricks.

I look over the edge at the quarry and feel myself sink with fear. “Who wants to go first?” Richie asks looking over as well. I back up letting the boys handle it. “Are you not going to jump in (Y/N)?” Stan asks looking over at me. “Um, I think I’ll just sit up here and tan. I need it anyway and-” “I’ll go!” another voice rips through the statement I was making. I turn to see a girl with short red hair and a pretty smile. She strips of her dress and runs off the edge without thought.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Richie screams as he watches her plummet into the water. “We just got shown up by a girl!” I smirk and whip my dress over my head as well. “Make that two girls!” I laugh as I jump off the edge and into the water.

Once I resurface I face the girl. “Hi.” She laughs. “Hey.” “Nice way to meet, I’m (Y/n) by the way.” “Beverly Marsh.” She smiles sweetly. Beverly Marsh. I’ve heard that name before. She’s the young girl every other girl calls the school slut. Especially Getta. But by the looks of it she’s no more than an average girl. A girl like me.

The boys jump in with the help of Richie. Each of them screaming as they make their way down. We spend the day just laughing and spending time with each other. Enjoying the company of the lovely bond we all hold.

We all sit upon the top of the rocks just enjoying the sun. “Schools out for summer!” Richie screams in an accent munching on some snack from Ben’s bag. He pulls out a folder opening it. “What’s with the history project?” I sit up and move to view the folder. “Oh well, when I first moved here, I really didn't have anyone to hang out with so I just started spending time in the library.” “You went to the library? On purpose?” Richie asks in shock. I look over the words spalling the paper. “What's the Black Spot?” “The Black Spot was a nightclub that was burned down years ago by that racist cult.” I explain knowing my brothers horrible agreement with the action. “The what?” “Don't you watch Geraldo?”

“Why's it all murders and missing kids?” I ask looking at the many article of the new prints. “Derry's not like any town I've ever been in before. They did a study once… it turns out people die or disappear six times the national average.” I look over feeling the chills reach the back of my neck.

“Not just grown-ups. Kids are like worse way, way worse. I've got more stuff, if you want to see it.”

---

We all walk up the stairs to Ben’s room. Have to say I’m a little excited! This is the first time in a long time I’ve been able to see and hang out with my friends. Ben opens his door revealing the wall full of posted new prints of Derry. “Woah, woah, woah, wow!” Richie says looking around. “Cool, huh?” Ben asks smiling. “No, nothing cool. There's nothing cool. Well this is cool, wait, no it's not.” Richie says viewing more things around the room. I elbow him sharply. “Beep Beep Richie.”

“What's that?” I ask looking at a long page on the wall. “That? That's the charter for Derry Township.”

“Nerd alert.” I turn to Richie with threatening eyes. “Do I have to hit you again?” Richie slide away from me with his hands up in surrender.

“Actually, it's really interesting. Derry started as a beaver trapping camp. Ninety-one people signed

the charter that made Derry, But later that winter, they all disappeared without a trace.” Ben explains bringing the chills up my spine.

“The entire camp?” “There were rumors of Indians...but no sign of an attack. Everyone thought it was

a plague or something. But it's like… one day everybody just woke up and left. The only clue was a trail of clothes leading to the well-house.” my eyes scan over the drawn page upon the wall when everyone signed the charter. It looks just the same as any other, everything is similar besides one person. One person in the corner with a menacing smile and a large head, and a evil set of eyes. The more I stare at it the creepier it gets. I could’ve sworn I saw it move.

---

#pennywise #beverly marsh #bill denbrough #bill skarsgård #henry bowers #it 2017 #itmovie2017 #nicholas hamilton #stephen king #belch huggins #patrick hockstetter #patrick hockstetter x reader #owen teague

[roxywashere]

New Light

Rey takes her date where no date has gone before

Rey waited outside of Baby’s Diner for her date to finish her shift. It was 4 in the morning. Not an exceptionally late night for her, but she was tired. She cycled some plasma in and out of her veins, to see if that would help her keep energized. She then did a lap around the state park the diner bordered, which did very little to help.

She pulled out her phone and looked up something she thought she remembered. She chuckled when she found it, and then opened up the group chat.

                                          Hey, Shay

What

                                           You’re not going to believe who                                            has tasteful, professionally photographed nudes                                            from back in the 40s

Who

                                           Aradia Johanna Christa Scomparsa-Prince-Furst

You send me those nudes right goddamned now I’m going to give her so much shit for this

                                           Elle make sure she doesn’t hurt herself

Rey shook her head and put her phone away, just as her date, Felicia Kyle, pushed out of the front door of the diner

“So, how was the fight?” Felicia asked.

“Stopped a bank robbery, burned down someone’s garden, broke a rib. Ya know, your standard save the world stuff.”

“Wait, you broke a rib? And then ran here?”

“I got better. Superheroes are pretty tough, you know.”

“Why don’t you tell me more while I drop my car off at my place.” It was a short 15 minute drive to her place, in a trailer park in the nearby township of White Deer.

“This place is…” Rey started to say as she climbed out of the car.

“Let me guess, ‘Rustic’?”

“I mean, in not so condescending a tone. But… yeah.”

“It’s cheaper than living in the city, I bet.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“I’m gonna go get changed out of my uniform. You wanna come inside or wait out here?”

“I’m good out here. I’ve still got to psych myself up.”

After Felicia went inside, Rey massaged her rib. She lifted up her shirt and took a look at it: Aradia’s magic had fixed the physical break, but the flesh around it was still bruised, dark violet and a sickly yellow. Rey’s superhuman physiology would heal it quick, but it definitely wouldn’t be painless by the end of the night.

When Felicia came back out, she had almost completely transformed. She almost looked like she belonged in Rey’s group of friends: Torn jeans, black leather jacket, black crop-top.

“Lookin’ good,” Rey said.

“I know how to fix myself up all cosmopolitan-like. I wasn’t always a trailer park gal, you know.”

“Oh yeah? Where you from?”

“Austin, Texas.”

“Can’t get much more cosmopolitan than Austin.”

“So, how’s this going to work? Are you going to… carry me? For 700 miles?”

“You’d be surprised.” Rey activated her power and had Felicia in a bridal carry before she could blink. “You want to go straight to Danesville? Or do you want to sightsee first?”

“Depends where you take me. What sights are there to see?”

“Ever been to the top of the FursTech tower in New York?”

“Isn’t the top third completely closed off to the public?”

“I’m not the public anymore, am I? Me and Rad, we’re basically besties now.”

“Alright, then, my hot young steed, lead the way.”

Rey bolted from the trailer park and and down the road, and onto the highway, east towards New York City. It was 3 minutes later when Rey stopped in front of the FursTech tower, and put Felicia down to let her catch her breath.

“Holy shit, Rey.”

“That’s how it is for me all the time.”

“Pick me back up, this almost better than sex.”

“You’re gonna eat those words later on.” Rey scooped Felicia back up, and stared up at the tower. “Brace yourself.”

Rey ran straight up the side of the tower, slower than she usually would but fast enough that Felicia wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. They were at the top in less than a second. Rey set Felicia back down so she could enjoy the view.

“Jesus, this is unbelievable…”

They sat at the top of the tower silently for ten minutes, watching the lights of the cities and highways.

“So, where next?” Felicia asked.

“Ever been to the west coast?”

“I visited LA for vacation once.”

“Good enough for me.” Rey picked Felicia up once again. “Oh, there’s one more thing I have to show you. I only just learned this since you texted me the first time.” Rey braced to run, and bolted straight off the edge of the building, coming to a stop about a hundred feet from the edge, before starting to fall. Felicia screamed and covered her eyes.

Rey slowly activated her power to slow her fall, until she was going horizontally. After sufficiently long time not having hit the ground, Felicia cracked her eyes open again, and looked around, astonished. “You can fly?”

“You betcha.”

“How fast can you fly?”

“You wanna find out with me?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Rey ramped up her power, to the point where she could feel her plasma reserves empty, and needed to draw from the Heart on her back. She kept going, pushing herself even further. She felt the Heart draining. She’d never burned through this much plasma so fast ever, she may not have even used up this much plasma in the entire rest of her life. She didn’t know how fast she was going, but she was beyond words like “fast”.

“Hey, you seeing that?” Felicia asked. Rey was pretty sure she was. It looked like she was seeing her plasma trail in front of her. She raced past streak after streak, until they merged together, and the streaks became a solid tunnel of plasma.

“What the fuck is happening…” Rey muttered.

“Are you gonna stop speeding up?”

“I think I did…”

Rey and Felicia suddenly hit a wall of light, and were spat out of the plasma tunnel above a bright sunny desert, and very quickly slowed to a stop.

“Where the hell are we?” Rey asked.

Felicia, looking around, pointed behind Rey. “I think I see some buildings over there.”

Rey turned and flew in that direction. When they reached it, they found a vast slumped skeleton of a massive skyscraper, draped across the desert, less than two miles from the sea. Much smaller towers poked out of the desert around it.

“Rey… I think this is Dubai. That’s the Burj on its side right there.”

“What the fuck happened? It looks like the city’s been abandoned for a thousand years…” Rey gave Felicia a disturbed look.

“Did we just fucking time travel? Did you go so fast you punched through time?”

“Hey, this is new for me, too.”

“Identify yourself!” ordered a voice from behind Rey. Rey turned to face the source, and found a familiar face floating a few dozen feet from her.

It was the Archangel, the mysterious benefactor of Astra’s League, wearing what looked to be a suit of sleek golden power armor, helmetless, with a long flowing sky blue cape.

“Rey?” the Archangel asked, apparently just as perplexed as Rey was. “How did you get here? We detected an interversal incursion… Was that you?”

“Fuck if I know.” Rey answered.

The Archangel sighed. “You speed-forced it, didn’t you. You went so fast you broke the barrier between worlds. You weren’t this powerful when we fought Therion.”

Rey spun around, showing the Archangel the Heart that Aradia had given her. “Rad spotted me an upgrade. She said you made it.”

“I did. I am happy to see him being put to good use. Who is this with you?”

“This is my date, Felicia.”

“That’ll explain it. I remember when I used to be that much a show-off…”

“Where are we?”

The Archangel hesitated for a moment. “…Let me show you.” She turned and started flying northwest, quickly picking up speed. Rey had no trouble keeping pace. They crossed the middle east in only a minute, eastern europe and scandinavia in another two, and the north atlantic in another five. As they shot past a winterset europe, Rey thought she saw spots of gold glimmering in the snow, but from miles up it was hard to tell. It was a similar story across Canada, but when they neared the midwest, it was a solid blanket of gold with small islands of snow instead of the other way around.

A massive metroplex stretched from northern Minnesota, around the coastal edges of Wisconsin and north Michigan, down through Illinois, and across southern Michigan and into the southernmost reaches of Canada. The sun was just rising here, and every building that could see the sun was glittering golden in the light of dawn.

The Archangel flew down towards the center of the city, where Danesville would have been if this were the Earth that Rey knew. She landed swiftly in a park in front of a massive palace, and the power armor unfolded and she stepped out of it. She was wearing a skintight bodysuit, upon which were mounted a series of decorative golden plates. The cape that had been threaded out the back of the armor was revealed to be a light cloak, held around her shoulders by a small pin with a image of a sun on it, radiating 16 points of light.

Rey landed a bit rougher, and put Felicia down.

Despite evidently being the dead of winter, the air was comfortably warm and the grass was a vibrant green. There were dozens of people milling around the very large park, playing in the snow or walking through it. The were also many animals walking around: elephants, rats, wolves and dogs, otters, cats, pigs and boars, and even some dolphins and octopi floating through the air or in small blobs of floating water, and then countless birds: crows and ravens, and parrots and pigeons, and some hawks and eagles. The animals were dressed in the same style as the humans: an interchangeable assortment of bodysuits, robes, and decorative armor.

“This… is New Jerusalem,” The Archangel said, “my homeworld.”

“It looks like Earth,” Rey said.

The Archangel led them towards the palace, and up the marble steps that rose nearly 100 feet above the park. “We did once call it that, and some still do. Years ago this world was just like any other Earth. I was seventeen when the Revelation occured, and changed all life on this world forever. It’s a very long story, but the short of it, is every living human on Earth was gifted powers by the Goddess of this ‘verse, and we used our powers to build Utopia on Earth. No-one here wants for anything, all is provided free of scarcity.”

The doors of the palace were 200 feet tall, and made of marble and gold. The Archangel gently pressed her palm against them and they silently opened, frictionlessly floating on their hinges until they just as gently stopped.

Even though the sun was still rising behind them, the enormous chamber behind the doors looked like it was lit through the skylights above it, and when Rey examined it closely she realized the skylights were actually an impossibly complex series of mirrors. The roof was held up by 10-foot thick pillars of gold and marble, and on each pillar was a lamp that looked like someone had taken a Heart, much like the one Aradia had given Rey, and carefully peeled it open to reveal the miniature sun within.

“Jesus Christ…” Felicia muttered.

As they neared the end of the hall, they stopped in front of a 20-foot-tall lifelike statue of a young girl, with brown hair and golden eyes, holding up a hand towards the sky, above which was levitating a golden orb, peacefully spinning according to some unknowable pattern. Her eyes were crying a fountain that ran down her face and over her clothes until it reached the pool at the bottom.

Rey found the girl familiar, but couldn’t place why.

On the other side of the fountain was another door, half the size of the first, and through it was another skylight-mirror lit room. At the end of it was a Throne, one designed for a human twice the normal size, beneath enormous tapestries hanging from the ceiling detailing events Rey could only barely comprehend, battles between angels and demons and gods and aliens and other unknowable things. Sitting in the throne was a giantess, ten feet tall, wearing white and gold robes and an elegantly ornate golden crown with a glowing white jem on the brow.

“Good morning, Roxy,” the giantess said. “I see you have brought some guests, they look not to be from around here. I trust you remember the policies for introducing the unready to our world, and the punishments.” The giantess subtly reached for the two giant weapons on either side of her throne: a hammer with a head the size of an oil drum on her left, and a sword as tall as she was on her right.

“Calm down, Romana.” the Archangel insisted. “Rey traveled between worlds under her own power. If that’s not proof of her readiness then there is no such thing. And arriving here on accident, the metanarrative guided her. This was meant to be, for whatever reason yet to be revealed.”

“We’ll see.” Romana leaned back and relaxed.

A large raven flew in from the entrance of the throne room, and perched on the end of the handle of Romana’s hammer. “What do we have here? Are you bringing us another child of yours from another unspeakable escapade?”

“For once this one isn’t mine, I’m pretty sure.”

“I’m sorry, can we go back a step,” Felicia pleaded. “That bird can talk.”

“Humans weren’t the only ones given gifts by our Goddess,” the Archangel explained. “All the most intelligent creatures of Earth were uplifted. This is Muninn, Prince of the Corvans.”

“At your service,” Muninn said, bowing.

“We’re headed for my workshop, would you like to accompany us?” the Archangel asked Muninn.

“I would be honored.” Muninn hopped down from the hammer and glided to the Archangel’s shoulder.

The Archangel led Rey and Felicia deeper into the palace, walking down seemingly endless halls and past lush gardens. Eventually they reached a 20-foot tall door made of a black metal banded by gold. The Archangel pushed through it, and as soon as the door cracked open the sound of hammering suddenly washed over them.

Behind the door was a enormous chamber lit by a dozen furnaces lining the walls, and a dozen holograms that sat throughout the room, lines of light tracing patterns both arcane and technological.

On the back wall was a ring a foot deep made of gold, silver, and black metal, forty feet in diameter, behind which was a blank wall. About twenty feet in front of the ring was a small dias covered in glowing sigils and runes.

At one of the furnaces were two ten-foot-tall humanoid constructs, glowing from within by a white light, hammering away at a large piece of white-hot metal. In front of one of the holograms was a woman, wearing a silver bodysuit and armor and a pair of spectacles, drawing at the hologram, modifying the design it displayed. Next to her was a tall bearded indian man, wearing a close-fitted black robe and an eye patch, with scars poking out from beneath them.

The Archangel glided quickly to their sides and whispered something in their ears, which Rey had no chance of hearing over the sound of hammering, though Felicia did tilt her head as if she were attempting to.

“These are my friends, Eitri and Jayadev,” the Archangel introduced once she was done conspiring with them. “E, J, this is Rey and Felicia, from Astra’s Earth. Rey is friends with Aradia.”

Eitri and Jayadev turned to face their guests and bowed. Rey suddenly realized that she recognized them.

Eitri seemed to notice the look of familiarity on her face. “You did attend the Astra Academy, correct? You must have met our counterparts Ethel Adams and Jake Newark, then.”

“Yeah, I did. I was in their classes.”

Eitri walked around to another hologram, and started typing at a panel of glyphs next to it. “Just to fill you in,” she started, “The Astraverse, as we call it, is a heavily metanarrative reflection of our world, which is why, as you have discovered, it tends to produce individuals identical to individuals in ours, to the point where with only a scant single exception, every single person born on your world has or had a counterpart here.”

“Who is the exception?” Rey asked.

“Astra herself, which is the reason hers is the name we use to identify your world.”

“Wait,” Felicia interrupted. “You said Newark. Isn’t that the last name of Babalon? Are you related?”

Jayadev visibly winced at the mention of the supervillainess. “In both your world and ours, my sister succumbed to the enticing call of wickedness. She is powerful, a scourge that I deeply regret I hadn’t eradicated before it took root.”

The Archangel rested a hand on Jayadev’s shoulder. “That was as much my failure as yours, J. I’m the one who drove her to it.”

“I just fought her in my world,” Rey said. “I don’t blame you at all for not being able to stop her.” Rey lifted up her shirt to expose her deeply bruised ribs. “She’s a caliber all on her own, fast as Hell and hits like a truck.”

“If you fought her and lived you must be quite powerful. What are your powers, if I may ask,” Jayadev said to change the subject.

Rey held out her hand and drew some plasma out of the Heart, forming it into a ball in her palm, before absorbing it into her veins, briefly allowing it to overcharge her, causing her to visibly vibrate, and then she dashed to the other side of the room and back, leaving behind her plasma trail to indicate that she had moved at all.

“Very impressive,” Jayadev said. “Speedsters of your caliber are few and far between. And how about you?” He asked Felicia.

“Oh, I’m not-” Felicia responded. “I’m just a normal human.”

“Aren’t we all.”

“Since it’s only fair,” Eitri said. “I have an expanded intellect and enhanced stamina.”

“I,” Muninn said, “have an uplifted mental capacity, and reflexes, and a boost to flying speed, and can mildly telekinese to compensate for my evolutionarily unforgivable lack of fingers.”

“For me,” Jayadev said, “It’s best to show you.” He ripped off his robe, revealing a black bodysuit underneath it, and stretched, cracking his joints. In less than a second, he dramatically transformed, his limbs becoming longer and leaner, his face sharper and elongated, dark black fur spreading across his skin, until he was a large man-shaped wolf, and then continued until he was completely a wolf with all human traits removed. His clothes had all dissolved into his skin, excepting only his eyepatch, which remained covering a still heavily scarred eye. Even as a wolf on all fours, he was still taller than the Archangel.

The Archangel reached over and gave him a scritch around the ears, which he leaned into enthusiastically. “Don’t be afraid of him, he’s really just a big puppy.”

“I can’t wait to talk to Aradia about all of this,” Rey said. “She’s been here too? You said they knew her.”

“That’s the thing…” The Archangel started. “I have brought her here secretly, but because she's not yet technically earned the readiness that our law requires to introduce her to our world, I cannot show her everything I wish I could.”

Rey realized something. “She had a counterpart here, you were close with her. That statue outside the throne room, that was Rad, I recognized her.”

The Archangel nodded. “She was my niece. She died before she was given a chance to flourish as she has in your world. I’m so proud of what she’s accomplished, all of her progress to make your world more like ours. But we miss her dearly here.”

“Making our world like yours… I’ve never seen anything like this place, it seems so perfect. Peaceful.”

“Just wait until you see the gladiatorial combat,” Eitri dryly noted.

“Our world is peaceful because we have no need to fight for resources and manpower. People work if they desire work to do, but if they don’t they live free of cost. Everyone is free to spend day and night doing whatever they wish. All soldiers are volunteers, signing up to protect their world because they are capable of defending it, and are willing to pass on if they were to give their lives in the process. But our world didn’t just come into being fully formed. Countless people bled and died to each take a turn to swing the hammer to help forge it. When Therion, the Demon King, made his first attempt to conquer our world he did so by first slaughtering 99% of humanity with his army of 100,000 fellow Demons.”

“The Demon King sounds like more and more of a nightmare the more and more I hear about him,” Felicia said.

“Therion makes the Joker look like a youtube prankster, and Thanos look like a schoolyard bully. I helped create Astra’s League in your world to give your world even the slightest chance to survive encountering him, and it was only barely enough.”

“Therion was borne to cause strife and suffering, fundamentally: it’s coded into the very structure of his soul,” Eitri said. “So we took the mantle of stopping him and his ilk from plunging all of the omniverse into chaos.”

“Above you used to be Astra’s League, the guardians of your world,” The Archangel said. “Now that you are a member of Astra’s League, above you now is us, Yggdrasil, the guardians of the multiverse. As for what’s above us, well, maybe one day we’ll all find out.” The Archangel walked over to the dias in the back of the room. “You should head home.”

She punched in a series of glyphs into the panel on the dias, and then a portal opened within the ring on the wall, showing the peak of FursTech Tower in Danesville on Rey’s Earth.

Aradia was meditating in her workshop, and when she suddenly heard the hammering in the Archangel’s workshop she was shocked out of her meditation. She ran to the balcony near the portal. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

Rey sheepishly peered around the edge of the portal. “Hey, Rad… Guess what I learned I can do…”

“Oh, fuck me,” Aradia muttered, cradling her face in her hands. “You speed-forced it, didn’t you.”

“That was the exact same thing she said!” Felicia pointed out.

“Rey, you and I need to have a very long talk about your responsibilities and expectations as a member of the League. Thanks for getting her back home, Roxy.”

“You keep a close eye on her, Rad,” The Archangel told Rad. “She’s got even more potential than we first thought.” She turned to Rey and Felicia. “Now, git. I’ve got work to do.”

Rey picked Felicia up and floated through the Portal and landed on Aradia’s balcony. The Archangel pressed the big central button on the dias, and the portal snapped shut

“What were the results of the soul scans,” She demanded as soon as it did.

“Well,” Eitri answered, “for one, Felicia lied about not having powers.”

“I could tell.”

“As for Rey, there’s no doubt about it: she’s a native New Jerusalemite. How does she not know?”

“I’ll be looking into it.”

#astraverse #rey walker #superhero #superhero literature #serial story #Writing

[evangeline-perry]

Henry Bowers x OC: part 5

masterlist

complete oc masterlist

As I arrive, I can see the boys on the edge of the quarry. Looking around, I also notice Beverly biking up next to her. Both of us are taking off our clothes, leaving us in our swimsuits.

‘Wanna jump together?’ Beverly asks me, offering me her hand. ‘Yeah’, I say, taking it.

‘Alright’, we hear Bill say, ‘Who's first?’

‘We'll go!’ I call out as we jog together, past the boys. As we jump I can hear Richie call out:

The girls join hands and jog past the boys and she hears Beverly say: ‘What the fuck? Ahhh, holy shit, we just got shown off by two girls.’

Once we are at the bottom, Beverly call to the boys: ‘Come on!’ and after a while longer, all of us are in the water, playing around and swimming.

After a few hours, all of us lay by the side of the quarry, drying in the sun. Both me and Beverly are laying down as the boys sit on the rocks together. I turn my head to them to see them all looking away from my direction. I move to get up and join them.

‘News flash, Ben’, Richie calls out, going through a schoolbag I assume to be Ben’s, ‘School's out for summa.’

‘Oh that, that's not school stuff’, Ben mumbled.

‘Who sent you this?’ Richie held up a postcard

‘No one’, Ben said almost too quickly, ‘No one.'

‘What's with the history project?’ Richie questions, going through the boys backpack again.

‘Oh well’, Ben begins timidly, ‘when I first moved here, I really didn't have anyone to hang out with so I just started spending time in the library.’

‘You went to the library?’ Richie calls out, ‘On purpose?’

‘I wanna see’, I look up to see Beverly joining us on the rocks, sitting on Bills left.

‘What's the Black Spot?’ Stan asks, looking at the papers.

‘The Black Spot was a nightclub that was burned down years ago by that racist cult’, I tell them.

‘The what?’

‘Don't you watch Geraldo?’ Eddie accuses.

I turn my gaze away from the scene in front of me when I hear a stutter to the left of me: ‘Y-y-y-y-your hair...’

‘Your hair looks beautiful. Beverly’, Ben finishes for Bill.

‘Oh’, Beverly reaches up to touch her hair, as if she’s forgotten what it looked like, ‘hey thanks.’

‘Why's it all murders and missing kids?’ my little brother spoke, breaking the moment.

‘Derry's not like any town I've ever been in before’, Ben said, turning his attention to the boy who’d asked the question, ‘They did a study once... it turns out people die or disappear six times the national average.’

‘You read that?’ Beverly asks the boy.

‘Not just grown-ups’, Ben continues, ‘Kids are like worse way, way worse. I've got more stuff, if you want to see it.’

As we all arrived at Ben’s place, and enter his room, Richie vocalizes his first impression. ‘Woah, woah, woah, wow!’

‘Cool, huh?’ Ben smiles.

‘No, nothing cool’, Richie states, ‘There's nothing cool.’

‘Well this is cool’, Stan says, looking at some of the photo’s and articles, ‘wait, no it's not.’

‘What's that?’ Eddie asks, pointing at a map.

‘That?’  Ben looks the way Eddie points to, ‘That's the charter for Derry Township.’

‘Nerd alert’, Richie mumbles.

‘Actually, it's really interesting’, Ben defends, ‘Derry started as a beaver trapping camp.’

‘Still is, am I right, boys?’ Richie jokes, putting his hand up for a high five, not getting one.

‘Ninety-one people signed the charter that made Derry. But later that winter, they all disappeared without a trace’, Ben explains.

‘The entire camp?’ I question finally.

‘There were rumors of Indians...’, Ben tells me, ‘but no sign of an attack. Everyone thought it was a plague or something. But it's like... one day everybody just woke up and left. The only clue was a trail of bloody clothes leading to the well-house.’

‘Jesus’, Richie breathes, ‘we can get Derry on "Unsolved Mysteries".’

As I look around the room, I close the door to see what’s behind it. There is a poster of New Kids On The Block hanging on the door. Beverly who’s standing next to me sees it too. Both of us glance at Ben, as he just looks at us with an expression of ‘pleassee don’t say anything’. We chuckle shortly before reopening the door.

‘Maybe he's just trying to make friends, Stanley’, I hear Richie whisper to Stan, talking about ben.

‘Where was the well house?’ Bill asks suddenly.

‘I don't know, somewhere in town, I guess’, Bill answers, ‘Why?’

‘Nothing...’

That day, I go home together with my little brother, though later that day Richie gets a call from Bill that both Tozier siblings need to get to Beverly’s place as soon as possible. I grab my bike and go along with Richie. Along the way my little brother keeps questioning as to why we are going where we are going. As we arrive at the house, we all stop our bikes as Beverly walks into view.

‘I-I need to show you something’, Beverly told us, a shocked look still apparent on her face.

‘What is it?’ I ask her.

‘More than we saw at the quarry?’ Richie snaps.

‘Beep beep Richie’, I tell my brother.

Beverly looks between all of us before saying: ‘My dad will kill me if he finds out that I had boys in the apartment.’

‘W-w-w-w-we'll leave a lookout’, Bill offered, ‘Now Richie, just stay here.’

‘Woah, woah, woah’, Richie calls out waving his hands in the air, ‘what if her dad comes back?’

‘Do what you always do’, Stan calls out, following the group up the fire escape, ‘Start talking.’

‘It’s a gift’, Richie calls after his friends in a slight disappointed tone.

‘Uhm’, I say catching everyones attention, ‘I could stay instead and distract.’

‘NO!’ Beverly yells, almost too quickly, ‘… uhm girls like us don’t want to cross my dad alone.’

I nod, understanding what the younger girl means (perv alert) and go into the house with the group of kids, leaving Richie as the lookout.

‘In there...’ Beverly points down the hall to a closed door at the end of it.

‘What is it?’ Stan asks as we approach the door.

‘You'll see’, Beverly states.

‘Great, bringing us to the bathroom’, Eddie complains, ‘You know that 89% of the worse accidents occur in the bathroom and kitchen. And that's where all the bacteria and fungi are... and it is not a hygienic place...’ I open the door to reveal a bathroom completely covered in blood, ‘I knew it!’

‘Do you see it?’ Beverly asks shakily.

‘Yes’, Eddie breaths out shakily.

‘What happened in here?’ Stan asks.

‘My dad couldn't see it’, Beverly tells us, ‘I thought that I might be crazy.'

‘Well if you're crazy, then we're all crazy’, I comment before looking over at the boys, ‘guys I don’t know what’s going on, you all see this stuff too, right.’

‘yeah’, Ben is able to reply.

‘I thought I was the only one’, Beverly confesses.

‘We’ll have to talk about that later’, I conclude.

‘We c-c-c-can't leave it like this.’

And thus we began to clean the bathroom, that is until I feel some kind of pressure, as if I were a deep way under water and begin to hear some kind of cackling. Though I don’t mention it to the kids.

‘Hey, are y-y-you okay?’ I suddenly hear Bill ask me. It’s only then that I notice that my nose is bleeding. Eddie takes a tissue out of his fanny pack and hands it to me. ‘Thanks.’

As I come back inside after having taken out the trash, I can see Ben standing still in the hall. I walk over to him and look in the direction in which he’s looking. There I see Beverly and Bill, talking and laughing. I pat Ben on the shoulder before getting back to work.

#it #pennywise #henry #henry bowers #henrybowers #bowers #oc #ocstory #oc story

[kintsugi-sheep]

Blue-Collar Friend Potatoes

The tavern was in the middle of nowhere, resting on the side of a dirt road in the valley, far off from the nearest down. The wood was worn and the ivy was a little out of control, but the warm lights shinning out from the inside, the smell of roasted meat, and the sound of laughter made it pretty clear that the place wasn’t abandoned.

I reached for my satchel and checked my book, making sure no more pages had fallen out of the hole in the bottom. Once I confirmed it, I made my way toward the tavern.

I pushed the door open and it creaked louder than I was prepared for. I was almost embarrassed when everyone turned their eyes on me, but they went back to their conversations pretty quick.

I was struck in the face by a hurricane of smells. Chickens were being cooked, almost definitely in a brick oven, stuffed with what smelled like herbs, onions, and garlic. Then again, maybe that was just my eyes feeding my nose information, picking up on the union soup a man at the bar was eating, the sweet and hearty combination of the onions and beer reaching me from halfway across the tavern. I took another step in, just in time to see a woman shove the door to the kitchen open, carrying a beautifully browned pig on a tray in one arm, carrying a platter of tall steins overflowing with golden liquid in the other.

My tongue drowned by how heavily I was salivating. I gulped it down and made my way further inside.

Some would call the ground floor cozy. I would call it small. There were stairs leading up to a balcony where more tables were set, the make of the wood similar to that on the ground floor, but clearly around two decades newer. With a full bar, eight booths on the ground, and ten booths on the balcony, I estimated the place could fit around one hundred and twenty people. If they all sat pressed shoulder-to-shoulder.

Which the customers didn’t seem to mind doing. It was an older crowd; I don’t think anyone in there was under thirty-five. The men were dressed in stained, casual clothing and the women all had well-worked hands. Everyone seemed to perform some blue-collar labor. I, being in vest and slacks, carrying my old school satchel weighed down by an oversized book, felt more than a little out of place.

I moved over to the bar, sitting as far off from the other patrons as I could, circumstantially putting as far away from the only entrance-exit I’d seen since I came in. This place had to be older; the regulations in the last township wouldn’t have allowed any restaurant to operate without at least two exits. Or at least without a bar top that wasn’t stained four shades of brown from years of spilled beer.

The waitress approached me from behind the bar. I felt myself melt a little, seeing her big eyes, small frame, and wide smile approaching. I was shaken out of that when she slapped the table in front of me. Her strong hand with its many faded scars contradicted her softer, more feminine features.

She said, “Hello there! What can I get for you?”

She was loud, probably so I could hear her over all the conversation going on. I readjusted myself and said, “Yes, I was wondering if you had potatoes?”

It got distinctly quieter and I could tell, even if they didn’t turn to look at me directly, the pair of men nearest me at the bar had stopped their conversation to listen.

The waitress laughed at my question like I was being absurd, and I felt like I was back at the university again. “Of course we have potatoes. I’d never work at a place that didn’t have potatoes.”

“I’ve never eaten at a place that didn’t have potatoes,” one of the men nearby said, more to his friend than to either me or the waitress.

“I’d never eat of a place that didn’t have them,” his friend replied, slapping his shoulder drunkenly and wheezing out a laugh.

I was probably red with embarrassment. The servants at my house didn’t prepare them when I was growing up. We lived on brussels sprouts and celery.

“Johann,” my dad would say, watching me disinterestedly roll the vegetables around on my plate as he ritualistically quartered his brussels sprouts individually, surgically dividing them leaf-by-leaf into a giant salad of boiled greens, “always remember that the vegetables you eat must be green. Green is the healthiest color for consumption, as science would tell you.”

My sisters would parrot him, scoffing at me for not being as devoted to brussels sprouts as our doctor father. And my mother would fawn over him like he was the smartest man alive.

I was pulled back to the present when a stein of beer was slammed in front of me, splintering wood from the table and striking me in the face. The waitress smiled at me.

“You were gone for a minute there, buddy.”

I had no idea. There were at least five sets of eyes on me now, looking over my clean clothes and satchel, looking at my thin frame and pince-nez.

“That’s from me,” a mouth from beneath one of the pairs of eyes said. The man looked about fifty, but with about sixty years of muscle mass on him. “We don’t get a lot of people from the city around here.”

Technically I was from a hamlet at the coast, but that wasn’t going to win me any favors with this crowd. “Well, I’m just passing through.”

“Oh yeah?” The man pulled out two cigars. I raised my hands to decline. He paused, scoffed at the idea he would’ve offered me one to begin with, and put them side-by-side in his mouth. “God a light?”

Smoothly, I pulled my pack of matched from my satchel, lit one, and held it to his cigars.

The group was impressed and the man laughed. “Macy, get this boy his potatoes.”

“You got it, chief,” the waitress said, walking to the back and shouting, “Yo, Seamus-”

The “chief” called my attention back to him. “You’re a student at a university, aren’t you?”

There wasn’t any point denying it. Everything about me gave me away. “Yes. Well, I was.”

He pulled his cigars from his mouth. “I can tell. I’d never seen someone light a smoke for someone else so fast. You must be a grade-A ass kisser, aren’t you, boy?” He gulped on his beer while his friends chuckled behind him.

“Well, it’s because of all the,” I paused, struggling against years of sanitized language to get out, “ass kissing that I had to leave.”

“Had to leave?” he asked, popping his cigars back in his mouth.

“That I left,” I corrected myself. “The ass kissing is why I left.”

“I see.” He reached in my satchel, catching me wholly off guard and pulled my book out, slamming it on the table and getting beer on the cover.

“Careful!” I said, throwing my thin arms over it.

“What is this? There’s not a title or anything.”

“It’s my cook book.” The book was bound in red leather, an image of a black pot on the cover. The leather was peeling in many places, though. And the vibrant luster of the red was faded, compared to when I’d first gotten it.

The book was also empty when I’d first gotten it, two thousand blank pages that needed to be filled by recipes I wanted to record. The entries were initially neat and orderly, a detailed image of the dish in question drawn carefully in the top corner of each new recipe.

But, as the pages went on, my actually notetaking habits, the notetaking habits that were frowned upon by my teachers, peers, and family, showed themselves. Neat descriptions gave way to scratched out sentences with addenda written vertically up the side. Drawn food were seen less frequently, as I was more concerned with eating a hot meal than capturing its appearance. Some pages had been torn from other books and stuck within the pages of certain recipes, notes of modifications to make later. Some had little sheets pasted carelessly over the middle.

The patrons were impressed as we flipped through the pages, me explaining what they were seeing. I knew they lived inland, but I was shocked that none of them had ever seen a crab before. Many of them didn’t even know that there were more than three types of fish. They weren’t interested in the wines I’d tasted, but I was surprised to learn that many of them had had mead before. I struggled to explain the differences of flavors between bison meat and bull meat. I also struggled to explain the differences between oysters, mussels, and clams.

We laughed as I told them about my disastrous experiences with bear meat. I got pats of sympathy when I told them about the time when I got my wild mushrooms mixed up and spent three days being sick from both ends. I even pulled up my shirt to show them the stab would I got when I went fishing for swordfish.

Then a plate clattered in front of me. And my nostrils flared, picking up the smell before I even turned to the plate.

These weren’t the potatoes that I’d been expecting. At the university banquets they were cloud-like, topped with things like peas or chopped pork. These, were another thing entirely.

It was two potatoes that had been cut lengthwise into slices three-quarters of an inch thick. Their traditional white interior was not a shimmering golden color, dripping with some sort of fat and covered if heart chunks of salt. Macy placed a small bowl right next to it. I recognized it immediately as cheese. Cheese that’d been melted down to a bubbly, white paste, mixed with the red specs I recognized as cayenne.

I didn’t take the time to say my prayers. I paid no mind to how hot the potato was when I scooped it into my fingers. I jabbed it into the cheese as fast as I could and brought the searing mixture to my mouth, heedless of the new cheese stain on my book.

The pain was searing, but I muscled through as best I could, burning the interior of my mouth on the salty-savory flavors within it. My stein was pushed closer to me and I snatched it up by both hands, latching my lips to the side. A few hearty gulps later and I brought it back down, sighing out in pleasure.

Everyone leaned in closer.

I said, “Amazing,” and they burst out into cheers.

 Prompt: [WP] You've been searching the world for the best fried potatoes of them all, your adventures have lead you to an unassuming dinner in the middle of an empty road, as you take the first bite you notice the locals looking at you

#writingprompts #reddit #flashfiction #fantasy #potato

[katieincapetown]

Gugulethu: April 14 and 15

Note: I included a couple links here to shorten this post and to limit how much explaining I have to do and for anyone who cares to read more. The links go to Wikipedia pages, but they provide decent overviews of the topics for those who wish to read them. I also cannot really speak about townships in general because I have only visited one and I have extremely limited knowledge of life in townships.

I have been trying to write this post for almost two weeks, but every time I tried it turned into a voluntourism rant. Nobody wants to read that, so I’ve put this off until I could write about it properly. I felt like I had a lot of thoughts but I couldn’t really articulate them. Then i was writing a paper and I had zero motivation to do anything, so that’s why this took so long. I still don’t feel like I’ve done it justice, and I’m not 100% happy with this post, but I don’t think I’ll ever write a post about Gugulethu that I’m 100% happy with.

About ten days ago I had the opportunity to visit a township outside of Cape Town called Gugulethu (more information about townships can be found here). To give a very, very brief summary: During apartheid, black South Africans were not allowed to live in cities. Townships were established outside every major city in South Africa due to policies of forced removal. Townships are exclusively black and, at least in Gugulethu, very tight-knit communities. Most people in townships are extremely poor, though there are a fair number of well-off people in Gugulethu. Crime is very high in townships and there are often violent protests and riots. Townships experience many problems, especially in regards to access to services such as water, sewage, and electricity.

We had to do Gugulethu in two groups. The first group went in February. Though we were supposed to go in early March, circumstances beyond anyone’s control forced our homestay to be delayed twice. Mainly there were protests in Gugulethu regarding land (people wanted to live on some land and the government wouldn’t let them, but the people got the land in the end), which made it unsafe for us to be there. 

I’m keeping this bit brief, since I assume you care a lot more about my thoughts than what we did. On Saturday we had lunch at Mama Noxie’s on Saturday and visited orphanage in Gugulethu. Our guide (for lack of a better word) was a man named Pastor. He was born and raised in Gugulethu, and he was able to show us around the township and tell us about life in Gugulethu. We also worked in a garden at a school for a while. After all this, we walked around the Barcelona area of the township. Barcelona is an extremely poor area of Gugulethu. The people there live in shacks made out of corrugated metal and other materials. There is a lot of trash and stray dogs. Families share communal water taps and toilets, and the houses are very close together.  For the homestay portion of the weekend my friends Courtney, Colleen, Nicole, and I stayed with Mama Titti and her thirty-two-year-old daughter. Mama Titi (and all the women we stayed with) is quite well-off and lives in a very nice house. 

Being in the township and in Mama Titi’s house made me think about privilege, both my own privilege as a white American and privilege in South Africa, both in terms of race and socioeconomic standing. The townships are one area where (at least to me) the legacy of apartheid is especially apparent. The very existence of the townships is, from my understanding, entirely due to apartheid-era policies. South Africa has one of the highest levels of income inequality in the world, and even just in Cape Town you can see it. There are extremely rich areas such as Camps Bay and Clifton, and then there are the townships and other areas that experience extreme poverty. You can even see it in the townships--you have people like Mama Noxie and Mama Titi, who live in nice houses and seem to have enough money, and then you have people who live in shacks without running water. Income inequality is generally racial, but the number of black millionaires has grown. This has a lot to do with apartheid policies (ie forced removal, job restrictions, education policies, etc, honestly I could go on for ages about some of this) and the legacy of apartheid that is still apparent today. 

Events of the past several years (and growing up? Definitely certain classes I have taken at UVM) have made me consider my own privilege in the American context. Privilege comes in many forms: unfortunately there’s a lot of privilege in being white and a lot of privilege in coming from a financially stable family and  so on. It’s been interesting--and informative--to examine it in the South African and overall global context. It’s not something I’ve had to think about until several years ago, which is in itself a form of privilege. I think a lot of times (in America in particular, I can’t really speak about other countries because I simply do not know) people who have a lot of privilege (ie white, able, cisgender, straight, rich men and, to something of a lesser extent, women) don’t always know they have privilege, and refuse to acknowledge that they have this privilege and use it to help others who don’t. 

I feel like I should write more, but I have work to do and I might just end up talking in circles so I’ll leave this here. I might write more later, we’ll see.