#i may or may not have grown an attachment to this man's poetry after reading his biography for school a couple years ago

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

FAREWELL | Agha Shahid Ali

#i may or may not have grown an attachment to this man's poetry after reading his biography for school a couple years ago #deancas #destiel poetry #destiel edit #spn edit #dean winchester #castiel #agha shahid ali #also using this to reinforce that if u saw me make a post calling this legendary poet who died before i was born deancoded. no u didn't ❤ #shey makes a graphic #well. kind of. #spncreatorsdaily #creativecaviar

[smndragon]

Hello!! 🖤 I love your dark aesthetic!! Could I get a full reading please? My initials are ACM and my big three is Scorpio sun in the 2nd, cancer moon in the 10th, and libra rising! Thank you and have a wonderful day!! 🖤

it's kinda funny cause I'm answering this so long after and it shows cause my theme is different😭 I'm sorry it took time to answer this! Let's go!

Hm, Scorpio sun, Cancer moon, Libra ascendant. I see trees covered in moss and flowers. Pink and rainbow buds all around the branches and leaves. Garden rabbits and plants growing from the ground. There's a girl in the distance, a hay colored dun hat. Blonde hair passing her shoulders, soft tanner summer heat skin. A pale blue dress, it looked as if it had played in the grass for years waiting to fit her form. As if this place had grown just for her, the girl staring off into the distance of the hills and sun. The sky was blue, sprinkling bits of sun pieces and bright stars of all light colors. The balls of heat never burned, until now. Seeing my own clothes partially torn and burned from the ash and flakes of the burning flame. It scattered in my hands and left marks of black and red. I would like to say I was worried if it's burn me. But I was only fascinated by this world. The girl turned to me behind her with a look of curiosity, wide blue and green eyes, which sometimes changed to a light honey. (WHY DID THAT CORRECT TO HORNY) Bangs of the soft curly hair covered her forehead. To be honest, she looked like she came out of a slice of life anime or manga of sorts. Those eyes sparkled like casting spells was her gift, spells on the mind and human race. The trees limbs went to constrict around my body like snakes. The wood felt poking but safe. As if it were a chair or place made for me. She walked closer to me, she went to shake my hand extending her own out. I looked at it wondering what to do with my arms held. The tree moved and she grabbed my hand with her own two. Her smile was like walking a warm and soft sanded beach. Eyes closed to calm her pale blonde eyelashes. A button and small bit nose. She was small but she wasn't fully considered skinny. Her feet soles were green and mossy. The tree let me down for her to walk me somewhere. The grass of the hills grew to our heights around us, making it harder to catch up and see her. I feel this may have been the Libra ascendant. The sun's falling bits have off the energy of the Scorpio sun. The Scorpio may be going into the Libra's home with it's fire. Before I knew it, caught up in my own thoughts she was gone. Lost in the tall grass. Possible placements may be the chest, stomach, or shoulders. Maybe even could affect the knees somehow. The aura of the Libra is yellow, blue, or green, bright and untamed. You may have freckles, like walking barefoot, have a taste for adventure, have the ability to lead people places that are unexpected or new. Your Libra gifted you the smarts of a predator and the eyes of a humble pisces or animal.

The Scorpio sun is burning. A pile of hot burning fire and sun. Laying on top of the pile or coming out of nowhere. The Scorpio moves to get Infront of me. Putting it's head in my hand. Tied back dark red or brown hair. Eyes are thinly almond shaped. I grab their chin. The feminity of the Scorpio shows here. Your Scorpio may want to be dominated by others it loves. The eyes of the Scorpio are a dark red, daring and wishing. A bit of scruff on the chin. Around 5'5-5'11. Masculine facial features. A mark or mole under the eye. Dark clothes. That of a knight or guardian. Red and black with golden pieces and placements. It sometimes look as if he's wearing the sun when they shine. A long and nicely shaped thin nose. Curved out at the eyes. They smell of heat and freshly cut grass. As if the world were on fire. I see shining flames whenever their eyes meet mine. I'm ngl I have half the mind to kiss your zodiac right now. This is a sign worth loving. It treats your body as a temple and your mind as a deity or god. Ready to strike and defend you at every turn if it can. You may have been told you don't know when to back downs at times. Could also have back problems, or a beauty mark on the face also. There's not much here for me really, the Scorpio is humbly protective, they like being treated like a pet at times but they'll never let their guard down just yet. Possible placements may be the spine, back, or hands. Aura is red and golden. You could also like writing poetry, or something to do with hands. Possibly a physical activity or smth. You could also be someone who likes to do things only when interested, if you're not people will say you're lazy when that's not the case at you just have no interest though you're hard working. Something unmentioned was the Scorpio form at the beginning, I feel your Scorpio is very powerful in ways in the body. It can transform from the very sun, to a Scorpion, then lastly to the man.

The Cancer home is dimmed and cold. Ice pains my feet. Frost and snow fall from the ceiling and walls. The Cancer freezes sometimes here, but says it's warm. Silently begging for others to ignore it's cold breaths. The bane of ris existence at times is itself. It feels caved in and scared of the world. Possibly from a previous host or truama. The world doesn't fully terrify it, it just feels it already knows what's to come from certain things. This may make you uncommunicative inside or often. Because of the Cancer's dominance in your head it can move it's truama to you and cause you to worry or not understand things people associate themselves with at times. Unintentionally closing you off from the world or growing. It wants to feel safe and sane. Retreating when your other signs wish to take action. the Scorpio burns to partially cover the Cancer. To give it warmth it hasn't gotten on the outside. But also to cover this feeling deep down. The zodiacs worry for your poor Cancer. The crab that's iced it's blue shell to almost cracking. Your Scorpio may love this zodiac greatly in some way. Either romantically or as if very close friends. He visits the door of the crab now, knocking and waiting. Upon no reply he opens the door to see us both sitting down. Confused as to why I'm here but dragging something in behind him anyways. A possibile meat or warming blanket? He grabs a sheet to cover the Crab's shell. Patting it a few times. Going back to the bag to get meat and dusty ash. He creates a fire with a dimple flicker of the black mush. Throwing the food above the fire to stand up with sticks and tools. Taking a seat near me and the Cancer. It's silent, but tis ckmfotin. Your Scorpio worries for the Cancer. They've known each other for a few rounds of lifetimes. The Scorpio may have even seen it all. The sound of the Cancer's panic. Something happened in a previous host, the Cancer felt they couldn't save that person, that they could do nothing against the danger, costing their host much to even possibly their life. The Scorpio was not the sign in control then. A great respect for the Cancer before still present now. Possible placements are the shoulders also, the head, the lower back, or the soles of the feet. Could cause shoulder pains, neck pains, smaller or medium feet.

Your signs aren't perfect, but they do their best to help each other and you. The Scorpio sometimes feels a heavy weight watching over things by themselves at times. The Libra doesn't make it inside until now. Stopping by the door for a second before sitting with us. This is nice, and all in a few moments, it feels like home inside you.

The truama could have something to do with you or the signs it's hard to tell. May deal with panic attacks or anxiety.

Characteristics: because of the Libra maybe even a dirty blonde or blonde of some sort, maybe dark or brown hair, may go past the neck or a bit above or near the shoulders, wide dark eyes or blue and green mix. Smaller or medium to big hands. Just something on hands I feel is important. Could be white, mixed, or foreign to America (not mensing your life here just from my country possibly). May paint your nails or leave them blank, sketches a lot or some bit. Style could be dark or plain in tones of where you live. Could fit the occasion. Smaller feet. May be fairly small when it comes to weight. Height could be 5'1-5'6. Beauty mark on the face somewhere or freckles. Maybe on the back of the neck even. May glance off at times. A make also maybe in the inner thigh. Scorpios deal with eyesight either making it really gold or poor. So possible glasses.

Future relationship/soulmates: will nudge you possibly when they want to relax. Could meet somewhere in the convenience store a normal somewhat important or crowded solace to you. (stores are too common of s theme here lol) may want to give you piggy backs or get them. Dark fluffy hair or pale. Will look domineering but isn't really lol. Could always be snuggling up even in public which can bother you. Want the groceries? You'll get them they'll go out as long as they get to call you the whole way. To that you tell them to be careful when driving. Horny. Very soft and loving. Will give you time if needed when first meeting to talk to them or after asking you out at some point.

Other zodiac possible zodiac influence through other people: Scorpio ascendant, moon, or sun, cancer moon, Gemini moon, dominant, Aries sun, moon, pisces sun, ascendant, moon. Some Capricorn energy somewhere. Also maybe Sagittarius energy in you or another person. Maybe a mars Sagittarius around you?

Future/health: watch for possible things to do with electronics or not paying attention, walking in streets, we kinda discussed possible health stuff lol, back pain, shoulder aching, neck pains, panic attacks or anxiety, possible dark thoughts from the Cancer and even Scorpio.

Houses: having Scorpio sun in the 2nd house could mean an attachment to material thing from childhood. Financial gifts involving communication and interaction. Gains through others somehow. Having Cancer moon in 10th could mean you may make it doing something involving physical use or mental stability. Could be a social worker, nurse, something involving humanitarian stuff or possibly business if you focused on it. Could be a lawyer even, with Cancer there's a lot of possibilities from their talents. There's something great in you, you just have to drive for what you want. Possibly may want to owns little shop somewhere even. You'll gain possible reliable jobs through friends or connections even due to the 2nd house.

[jamaiskookie]

mutuals (pjmxreader) [bonus:celibacy]

~mutuals~ [youtuber!reader x idol!jimin] social media AU

synopsis: park jimin is a (slightly problematic) idol singer, and he becomes completely smitten with a youtuber after stumbling upon her dance cover to his own song.

genre: fluff, a good dosing of cracK, literally two seconds of angst blink and u miss it

word count:  2.3k

[A/N]: thank you for all the love you’ve given mutuals! can’t believe it’s only been like one week since this blog has been up hehE enjoy this drabble of thirsty!jimin after he found your video. if you have no idea what i’m talking about gO READ THE FIRST CHAPTER

series masterlist

<< prev

           When JinHit first hit record sales with the success of Jimin’s mini album, and RAPLINE’s first title single a couple years ago, Jin finally gave in to Jimin’s begging and gave all the artists their own personalised studio in the JinHit building. It’s where all the greatest hits on the charts are written. It’s practically the modern eighth wonder of the world, considering the names and talent that have graced the walls. 

          Jimin, Yoongi, and Namjoon all have their separate studios to write, produce, and record in, and all three of the small rooms are located next to each other. Partially because of design and common sense, but also so all three friends can conveniently annoy each other when needed. Jin’s office isn’t too far away either, just across the floor. Usually, if they’re all working in the studio, they’ll walk over to Jin’s office during lunch hour and leech off his amazing personal pantry in his office. The office is much, much bigger than their studios, and Jimin never fails to remind Jin that. 

          All three artists have grown a little attached to their studios. It’s where they do what they all love most, after all. Yoongi barely lets anyone into his ‘Genius Lab’, and ever since a staff member accidentally messed with his coffee machine, he hasn’t let anyone step foot in. Nobody’s even allowed to come inside Namjoon’s studio during what he calls his ‘namjoon talent time’ which is basically just a period of time before comeback season where he locks himself in the studio, writing music 24/7. 

          He occasionally asks Jimin to listen to his unreleased files for suggestions, but other than that, noone except Yoongi goes inside his studio during ‘namjoon talent time’, and Namjoon only reluctantly lets him in as his bandmate. Not that Jimin minds, he hasn’t been let inside since he accidentally mistook Joon’s studio for his own and brought one of his one-night-stands over. Joonie was horrified, and made Jimin sanitise, wash and clean every part of the room, all while he cried about how his ‘baby was molested’. It was traumatising for both parties. 

          Out of the three, Jimin’s the least protective over his studio, even though he’s the one who put the most effort into it. He’s spent years perfecting it, making it the best place for inspiration and writing music. Everything in the studio has been personally chosen and thought out by him. The snacks and custom mini fridge, the wall of his entire discography, trophies, music awards, and his personal favourite, the official JIMIN logo sign above the couch. 

          It lights up in purple.

          Despite being a pretty stereotypical assholey partying douche idol, Jimin’s likes to think he’s actually quite talented. He’s been named ‘Most professional idol’ on every single online survey he can find (He’s also always voted for ‘Most handsome’, but that’s besides the point), and it’s true. Jimin never sells himself short. He is a professional musician, singer, and producer. He writes his own music, choreographs his own dancing, and uses his platform to spread positive, meaningful messages. There’s a reason he’s so internationally successful, and it’s because he’s talented. 

          Maybe right now isn’t a great example of his talent. Jimin was in his studio, holding his head in his hands. Sure, he’s a globally recognised and accomplished songwriter, but to be honest, he hadn’t written a single piece of original JIMIN music since he wrote ‘Filter’ with Namjoon months ago. He was in the biggest creative slump in his entire career. He had tried almost everything, co-writing, exercise, music samples, playing around on instruments. Hell he even tried music therapy. Whatever melody he tried to create, whatever lyrics he tried to write, it all came out sounding like garbage. 

          Yesterday was a little bit of a blow to Jimin’s ego. It was three in the morning, and he’d been in the studio for seven hours, with only one verse written. 

I love to let loose,

Have you ever tried eating moose?

It’s all so bananas,

Tony fucking Montana. 

          Yeah, it’s pretty embarrassing. It’s not even a verse, it looks more like a kindergartener’s attempt to write poetry. For the first time in his life, he doesn’t really feel like writing music or putting his thoughts in a song. Jimin is just plain out of ideas. He has nothing to write about. And if he doesn’t have good content to put out, he’d rather not put anything out at all. 

          But he still hates it. All his life, he’s coped by writing, singing and dancing. This writer’s block has been too frustrating. Too many sleepless nights and crumpled papers have been wasted over it, with no progress or music in result. Plus, Jin might be one of his closest friends, but Jin was also a boss, and he still needed more tracks for Jimin’s big comeback, happening end of the year. 

          He can’t help it. Jimin has nothing left to write about. He opened one eye when he heard the distant ding of his phone coming from somewhere in the studio. Grumbling incoherently, he opened the notification, to find… you. 

          Jimin’s mouth was hanging open the entire video. His eyes twitched the tiniest bit and he almost dropped the phone when you said his face was “decent”, but he had to watch it again, because the first time around, he didn’t hear a word that came out your damn mouth. He was otherwise… preoccupied. No matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t tear his damn eyes off the screen. Curse Min Yoongi for sending him this. 

          He even cringed when he had to bring his sleeve up to wipe the tiniest bit of drool off his face. Practically salivating. What the fuck? How old was he? He was Park Jimin, why was he popping a boner from watching some stranger on the internet dance to his songs? He’s been in the industry for way too long now, he was practically immune to scantily clad women prancing around him. So why he completed concentrated on your stupid little crop top? Not to mention, you were practically insulting him at this point. What was so special? 

          For one moment, Jimin forced his eyes off the screen, wondering if the sleep deprivation had really affected him that much, or if this was another side effect of the writer’s block he’s been having. It’s the partying ‘clean act’ ban Jin’s been forcing me to go on, he thought, even though Jimin wasn’t totally convinced of that. (Despite swearing not to, he looked straight back to down at his phone afterwards to reply the video.) 

          He was so fixated on the screen, he didn’t even notice when Yoongi flung the door open and walked inside. Jimin only lifted his head when he heard Yoongi’s obnoxiously loud groan. 

          “What- When did you get here?” Yoongi recently went back to a fan-favourite hair colour of his, and Jimin was still not used to seeing him with bright mint coloured hair. In his opinion, he looked like a highlighter, but Yoongi seemed to not mind it. 

          “I’ve been standing here for the past two minutes, drinking my coffee. The fuck you watching on your phone that’s got you drooling?” 

          “NOTHING.” Yoongi narrowed his eyes, and before Jimin could even move away, he managed to snatch the phone away from Jimin’s hands. 

          “What the fuck- how? You know, this is why your fanbase thinks you’re a cat.” Yoongi ignored his words with ease. “Oh my god,” He said. “Are you watching the video I sent you? I didn’t expect you to actually watch it.” 

          “I always watch my fan’s videos after a comeback!” Jimin insisted, clawing upwards to steal his own phone back, but Yoongi kept slapping his hands away. 

          “Yeah, but this isn’t a fan. This is just like, one of your fanboys and a girl roasting you.” Yoongi stared back at Jimin suspiciously when he tried to defend himself. “Why were you watching this girl dance like a starving man, Chim?” 

          “Just, because- what- I was nOT watching her like a starving man. Don’t look at me like I’m some kind of a pervert!” Jimin finally managed to grab ahold of his phone again, and he threw it behind him on the couch, away from Yoongi. 

          “Hyung,” He sighed. “I think maybe it’s Jin’s new ‘clean, good boy’ rule. Along with this stupid fucking slump I’ve been having these days, I just don’t feel great, okay? So don’t be so fussy with me. I can’t write, I can’t party… If I want to ogle over some random girl on the internet, I will.” Jimin cringed once the words came out of his mouth, but Yoongi slowly nodded, sitting down on the couch. 

          Min Yoongi may be a little too gay to understand Jimin’s womaniser ways, but the frustration behind not being able to write music, that, he understood. “You’re trying to justify being a perv by using your mental problems, but I’ll talk to you about that later on.”

          “Chim, we all have our slumps. It’s honestly a wonder that this is your first serious creative block. Me and Joon, and every single artist in the world, is bound to go through that at some point. It’s not the end. You’ll still be able to write good music soon, you’re a good writer.” Jimin refused to meet Yoongi’s eyes, even if what he was saying did make a little sense. He just chose to stay silent. 

          “You just have nothing left to write about. You can’t keep living like this though, Chimmy. It’s unhealthy.” 

          “What do you mean, unhealthy? I’m perfectly fine, thank you.” 

          Yoongi stared at him deadpan, gesturing to the entire state of his studio. “It’s a complete mess in here,” He said. “Plus, I don’t think you’ve left this studio for days. The others may not want to say it to your face, but we’re all a bit worried about you. Stop forcing yourself to ingest all these redbulls to try to keep writing.” 

          “When inspiration comes, it’ll come. You can’t force it, it doesn’t work that way. What you need, is a break. Go back home for once, maybe visit your mom. And for god’s sakes, take a shower please. Trust me, okay?”

          Yoongi doesn’t like admitting it, but he’s the most caring one out of their friend group. Anyone can tell from the look in his eyes right now, that he’s genuinely concerned about his friend. He’s also the one with most sense, but Jimin will never tell him that, because his advice, no matter how sensible, is useless. 

          All he’s known is singing, writing, and throwing himself in work. To just stop? Even if it’s to take a short break, it doesn’t feel right to Jimin. Instead of telling Yoongi his problems, he just poked his tongue in his cheek. If lightbulbs actually popped up above people’s heads when they had a good idea, a massive one would’ve appeared on top of Jimin’s. 

          “I’ve got it!” He said, excitedly. Yoongi sat up straight. “You’re going to take my advice for once?”

          “No, of course not, Hyung. Don’t be silly.” Yoongi slouched his back again, closing his eyes. 

          “I’ll just hit this girl up!” Yoongi’s eyes snapped open. 

          “What.” 

          “Yeah! Who knows, y’know? Maybe I’ve been keeping myself to Jin’s rules a little too well. It won’t hurt the company if I let myself go just once. Blow off some steam, come back fresh and recharged.” Jimin rubbed his hands together like a bad Disney villain. 

          “It’s too early for this.” Yoongi whispered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

          “It’s three in the afternoon.” Yoongi ignored him. 

          “You really aren’t going to take my advice, huh.” 

          “Nope!” Jimin said, popping the ‘p’ annoyingly. 

          “You promised Jin you’d go celibate.”

          “I said I’d clean up the partying act. I don’t recall taking a vow of celibacy.” Yoongi just sighed, and fell back down on the sofa, mindlessly sipping at his coffee. 

          Jimin hesitated. “You’re not going to… tell me not to? Or give me another one of your eco-feminist speeches again?” Yoongi shrugged. 

          “You’ve heard it too many times. Plus, I have a feeling this is going to be funny.” 

          “Funny? Hyung, what part of this could possible be funny to you?” There was a brief pause filled with awkward silence, before Yoongi blinked slowly. 

          “When she rejects you, of course.” Jimin threw his jacket, aimed straight for Yoongi’s head. His stupidly fast cat-like reflexes managed to dodge it, but Jimin scowled at him nonetheless. 

          “She’s not going to reject me.” Jimin walked over, picking up the very same jacket he threw at Yoongi, before plopping his sunglasses back on his face. “No woman has ever managed to reject me before, and I intend on adding her to that list.” He pursed his lips. 

          “Plus, she’s super hot. Great ass. Attractive people attract attractive people.” Jimin turned his phone back on once more to sneak one last peek at you in the thumbnail of the video, before stuffing his phone into his back pocket. “I just need to get it out of my system. This might be what I need to get me out of this creative rut!”

          He could’ve sworn Yoongi muttered something under his breath, something along the lines of ‘fucking asshole’, but he chose to ignore it. 

          “Alright, well, see you, Yoons!” Jimin practically skipped out of the studio, startling the producer’s assistant outside with his slightly disturbing enlarged grin. 

          “Don’t come crying to me when she refuses to get in your pants, you fucking diva!”

          Jimin continued walking towards the elevator, but he threw up his middle finger behind him. 

“DON’T RUIN MY EXIT, BITCH!” 

[taglist:] @notmontae97​​ @lucedelsole97​

#bts #bangtan #bangtanboys #bangtan soyeondan #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts fanfiction #bts sm #bts fake texts #bts sm au #bts au #idol!au #park jimin fanfiction #park jimin fic #jimin fic #jimin drabble #jimin fluff #bts crack #jimin x reader #taekook #vkook #taekook au #jimin au #mutuals #jimin hcs

[cecilspeaks]

166 - Delta

The stars tell us our future. They’re rarely correct, but yet there they are, blathering on night after night. Welcome to Night Vale.

At the foot of a sandy hill, a woman explains to her son what a flower is. She’s pointing at an orange starburst atop a squat bulbous cactus. She says: “Flowers are beautiful, aren’t they?” I cannot hear what her son says. She answers: “Because bees like beautiful things and flowers want the bees to take their pollen, that little bit of yellow powder, right down there inside, and give it to other plants, so they can grow up and be beautiful too.” There’s a long pause. Then she says: “Nature wants to make more and more beauty all the time. That’s all it wants to do. If it is not beautiful, it cannot live.” She’s upset at her son’s next question. “Humans wish to make beauty too, but not for nature,” she snaps. “They want computers and airplanes and factories, oh Benny, don’t touch.” She sighs. Then she says: “The cactus hurt you, didn’t it? The cactus knows you’re human and it does not want you to watch it, and now it has let you know that, you won’t touch it again, will you? No Benny, you won’t.”

Underneath the scant shade of a dilapidated wing of an MD-90 aircraft, a middle aged man tells another middle aged man about a time he went to New Orleans. He thought the French Quarter was too crowded and the jazz scene overrated, so he drove east along the upper neck of the Mississippi Delta to a Swapshack, where he paid a man 50 dollars to take him on a hovercraft to look at alligators. “Such majestic and hideous creatures,” the middle aged man says to the other. “You know, when I was little, I cried thinking about how I would never see a real live dinosaur. All the world had left were bones. But right there in southern Louisiana lay dozens of living dinosaurs. It’s an extraordinary world when you finally realize that all life is magic,” he says. The other middle aged man had heard the story dozens of times, but still he replies: “I hear you, I hear you.”

A young woman thinks about a job interview she never attended. She is happy without that job, yet she feels regret for what could have been. “I cannot imagine myself behind a desk making spreadsheets and memos,” she says to no one. “But I cannot imagine a 5-dimensional horse, nor the width of the void, nor the language of whales. I cannot imagine a lot of things but the pay, the pay would have been pretty good.”

Behind a blighted Palo Verde Tree, hidden between lush acacia shrubs, two teenaged boys kiss for the 50th time or so. It is brief, as one stops to look around, on alert for overbearing parents. They kiss for the 51st time or so and then laugh. Their fingers clumsily fumbling over each other, trying to decide on the perfect grip, the perfect touch. They melt like marshmallows in the flame of inexperienced joy. This moment in their lives is as pure and powerful as they have ever felt and may ever feel again.

My mind is crowded with voices, with people living their lives all day listeners. these are the stories, they are eating fruit and playing cards. They are arguing about who said what and when. They are meditating and conversing, retelling old shows and books they remember from when they had such things. A copy of Tina Fey’s memoir “Bossy Pants” was found in  a suitcase seven years ago, and everyone in the group has read it at least once. Someone mutters that they used to have a copy of Karen Russel’s “Swamplandia!”. It was in her purse when they landed here, but someone won’t own up to stealing it. another says the book might have been used to make a fire one night, because whoever made the fire might have thought the owner was done reading it, hypothetically.

It’s been several days since the voices came into my head, and at first it was new and interesting, but already I have grown tired of it. I do not know how Amelia Anna Alfaro lived her whole life with these sounds in her mind. It’s unceasing and I’ve not gotten much sleep. The teenage lovers sneak away each night to hold hands and talk big dreams underneath the moon. It’s sweet and romantic, but at 2 AM, give it a rest boys! I could try to talk back, but none of the voices can hear me. It’s like asking the rain to return to its cloud. But when I talk to Carlos, the voices go way. Thankfully I have my greatest peace when I’m with my favorite person. I can’t keep Carlos awake at all hours or have him skip work to be with me, so I have to learn to make peace with the voices, as they are noisy but permanent room mates in my brain now.

I do have news to report, but it’s mostly stuff you already know about. The high school basketball team has tryouts on Saturday. The library is doing open mic poetry nights on Tuesdays at 7, and we all know it’s a trap. Don’t do it unless you’re well armed. And the Opera House is extending its run of Verdi’s “2 Fast 2 Furious”, starring Renée Fleming, through the end of the month.

It’s hard to concentrate on reading these news stories with so much other language running through my head. Like this: there’s a guy who’s complaining about metal scraps that haven’t been cleaned, and the woman he’s talking to is explaining that they are conserving water for drinking and the guy is saying that it’s unsanitary to make dining utensils out of dirty metal, and she replies that they’re not making any more forks or spoons, they don’t need any more forks or spoons, they need knives but not for eating. What am I supposed to do with this information, it’s been going on nonstop for days? You cannot possibly understand what its’ like to listen to someone you don’t know, who you’ve never even met, who you can’t even see, ramble on and on about their boring personal life straight into your head, it’s awful. I can hear another person saying he’s found something. Good for you pal, way to find another rock or stick or lizard or whatever.

Wait. “Weeeee have founnnnnd ittt,” the voice says. I know this voice. It’s the first voice that’s been familiar to me, where do I know this voice, he is saying “first weeeeeeeee found you. You who are – no where – now weeeeeee have founnnnnnnd itt.” And other men are barking in agreement. Listeners, that voice is Doug Biondi from the asylum, and the voices around him are the agents from the National Safety and Transportation Bureau, all of whom escaped the Night Vale Asyulm two months ago. They are in nowhere, in an otherworld desert standing near a door attached to no building. Not far from a passenger set, long since rotted away. A jet that has been home to 143 passengers and crew members, one of those 143 – the pilot. Asylum warden Charles Rainier warned us of this. He had been a been a passenger on that plane, he became part of a small commune that grew into an angry cult under the leadership and telepathic influence of the pilot. Charles told us that the pilot would find those who could help him find Night Vale. Help him find the real world, and Doug Biondi knows the way back.

The pilot found Doug and Doug found the pilot. “Iii know the wayyy,” Doug Biondi says, laughing the laugh of a man whose smile is too big for his face. At the foot of a sandy hill, a mother tells her son it is time. “Stop crying, Benny. Stop crying so that there will be more flowers, more beauty.”

Underneath the scant shade of a dilapidated wing of an MD-90 air craft, two middle aged men argue over which hand made axe is sharper. At last, they agree that the one crafted from the rotor flap and held together with the hand belt is the better blade. “No you take it,” one says. “No, I insist you, I’m happy to use the smaller axe,” the other says, “because it is easier to manage what with my back spasms.”

And behind a blighted Paolo Verde Tree, hidden between lush acacia shrubs, two teenage boys kiss the way you kiss when you think it may be your last. They whisper impossible promises and raise high their rusty shovels, the spades’ tips having already been sharpened to deadly points. They race toward the gathering crowd.

A young woman who thinks often about the job interview she never attended shouts: “Nature is beauty!” “We are beauty!” replies antoher woman. They repeate these calls. “Nature is beauty! We are beauty!” And now every voice in my head is chanting the phrases, chanting and chanting and chanting, it’s too… it’s too much!

Silence. They’re silent suddenly. My head is clear. I can think my own thoughts.

Night Vale, I’m getting word that Sheriff Sam is barring all known passages into our town. This includes roads, trails, sewer grates, even the Dog Park which is not officially an entrance to the Desert Otherworld, but you know, let’s be honest here. We’re on lockdown, Night Vale. No one enters or leaves.

Good. This is good. If the voices can reach me, they can reach any of us. In fact, if the voices can enter my mind, then the pilot and passengers of flight 18713 may well already be here, or some of them anyway. Or maybe the voices come and go. This is the first moment of silence I’ve had alone in nearly a week. Maybe the voices aren’t always there like, like radio signals as you leave a city or, or a cell phone in an elevator, maybe the voices can’t permeate us under certain conditions or maybe… Or maybe… The voices are silent because… they are listening. Maybe they’re listening to their leader, their pilot who is giving instructions on what to do next, when and where to attack.

I don’t know. But I must use my moment of clarity to tell you some news. Nope, the voices are back. A single voice is back. I know, without knowing, that it is the voice of the pilot. He says: [in a neutral tone] “Uh, hi there, this is your pilot speaking. Just wanted to let you know that nature is beauty, we are beauty. We propagate our pollen, we spread our seeds, we grow new life over old life, we cleanse the toxins of technology. We depose the human king and return natural instinct to its rightful throne. If you can hear my voice, then you are chosen. You are chosen to join all who join our nature. All who join our beauty. All who refuse will be recycled into the earth, destroyed and dispersed to fertilize new more beautiful life. All those who are beautiful are chosen. All those who are not, are a cancer, blight, infection and disease. All who are not beautiful will be cut away, amputated, so that the Earth’s wounds may finally leave, so the Earth may grow beautiful once again.

We have been found and we will return. Open the gates to freedom, end the tyranny of artifice. That’s all for now, we’ll be arriving in just a few moments, Night Vale. There is going to be some turbulence.”

[distraught] I’m sorry, listeners! I did not meant to do that, I did not want to do that! The voice of the pilot overtook me and I, oh, I need to lock myself inside the studio, I have to protect you from me, but first the weather.

[“A Prayer for the Sane” by Danny Schmidt http://dannyschmidt.com]

I brought Carlos to the studio. When I talk to Carlos, I don’t hear the voices of the passengers from 18713. I don’t hear the voices even now as I look directly at Carlos while I’m speaking. Like Charles Rainier’s fishing hole or, or Amelia Anna Alfaro’s puzzles, Carlos grounds me, lets me be wholly me.

Thank you, Carlos.

Oh, I also had Carlos bring a pair of handcuffs with him that he bought at –Target on his way to the station, and used them to shackle me to my desk. If Charles Rainier is correct, then once the pilot can speak to you, he can control you. And if that should happen, it won’t happen but if it should, then now I won’t be able to leave here and do harm to anyone else.

From my window, I can see far down the street a spiral of black smoke. There are flashes of emergency sirens. Now I can see people coming up the road. They are long-haired, sun-scorched and nearly naked, wearing not much more than flat wide-brimmed hats and short tunics fashioned from seat upholstery. These people are carrying large blades, roughly honed from scrap metal. Some have widdled down pieces of plexiglass windows into sharp points and tied them to ends of long sticks. They’re deliberately walking up the hoods of parked cars and smashing windows and caving in the roofs with their bare feet.

It is no doubt that the passengers of 18713 are here, Night Vale. If you can hear me, sty inside and lock your doors. If you can her the pilot, then do as I have done. Secure your position so securely that not even your own mind can talk you out of it. Sheriff Sam has stubbornly kept up all roadblocks in and out of town, so we have no choice but to stay. The long unmoving lines of traffic at the edges of the city are easy prey now for the 18713. The pilot offered the choice of joining or refusing, but it is not a choice, not really. He either can control you or he cannot. Those whom he cannot control will be killed at the hands of those who can.

[anxiously] Carlos? You don’t hear the pilot voice, and thus cannot be controlled. But I do, and I can. I have been controlled. We’re in trouble, Carlos. I can’t stay chained to this desk forever, can I? And if the pilot means to destroy you, he might make – me do it myself. Just promise me you’ll run. Leave me behind if that happens, OK? OK. But for now, do not let me out of these cuffs, not even if I use a safe word, which I hear is something quite a few people use in healthy fun intimate relationships.

The people of 18713 are climbing up storefronts and tearing off signs. I can see about 10 or 15 in normal street clothes in the crowd now, which means the group is growing. They are recruiting quickly.

But something else is eating at me. In the asylum, in Doug Biondi’s journal and among the myriad voices in my mind, I still have not seen nor heard Amelia Anna Alfaro, the first person to make contact with the pilot. She disappeared in 2012 and no one has heard from her since. I need to find her. Somehow, if anyone can solve this, it might be her. She was always the best at everything.

Stay tuned next for the sound of me talking to Carlos forever and ever.

Good night, Night Vale. [creepily] Gooood night.

Today’s proverb: People who live in glass houses shouldn’t hire that realtor again.

#welcome to night vale #welcome to night vale transcripts #episode 166 #delta

[kopikokun]

okay! thank you for answering my questions regarding ships! can i please get an nct ship?  I like knitting (and crocheting) while watching tv, reading, writing poetry, photography, and journaling. I am a very shy/introverted until I become comfortable with someone, then I can be pretty sarcastic and sassy. I am pretty loyal to the people I care about, family is pretty important to me. I also love psychology (my major), astrology, and greek mythology.

Hello precious 🥰🥰 For some reason, this was pretty instant? When I started reading, I thought of him, when I finished reading your ask, it became practically set in stone that he’s the one for you. And if you’re wondering who the lucky man is... it’s Renjun!

»» ──────　[*:. ☁︎ .:*]　────── ««

— GETTING TO KNOW HUANG RENJUN.

I’ve said this previously, but Renjun’s an introvert!

It’s not like he feels particularly drained after being around others, it’s just that he prefers spending the majority of his time alone and rarely gets antsy when there’s no company around.

Once you two began to be comfortable with one another, he keeps wanting to see you and spend more time with you.

He genuinely wants to know more about your hobbies and interests especially since a lot of them are a form of art.

He’s also intrigued because the type of art that you dabble in is something he’s a bit unfamiliar with?

Like journaling, knitting and crocheting.

He thinks it’s interesting since both of you have an artistic touch yet delve into different spectrums and sectors of art.

In general, you two just have a lot in common, so Renjun finds it easy to warm up to you.

Soon enough, those merely platonic feelings will turn into something more, and Renjun longs to do more than just talk casually with you.

He’ll toss in a few flirty and witty comments in your banters, but for the most part, he’s discreet about his feelings for you, because at the end of the day, he doesn’t want to lose a dear friend because of his greed.

So, you’ll have to give him a few signs to encourage him.

Or, even better, you confess first.

It’ll be worth it, especially since Renjun will be totally stunned.

— DATING HUANG RENJUN.

Once you two begin dating, he’s genuinely happy to know that you’ve got a sassy side to you.

We all know Renjun can be quite the sarcastic one, so he finds it fun that you two can easily go back and forth, throwing remarks at each other.

It’s all in good fun though, and Renjun makes sure that none of your feelings are hurt.

Which is why communication is important in your relationship.

He wants you to be open about how you feel and vice-versa.

Even if it’ll hurt him, he knows it’ll benefit your relationship in the long run.

And with that, we get to arguments, which is obviously a sad topic which no one wants to imagine, but realistically arguments or disagreements happen and relationships aren’t just sunshines and rainbows.

Arguments are scarce between you two, because once again, Renjun wants you to always voice any problems you may have, but they do happen.

Renjun may raise his voice at you, and he may something hurtful but he tries his best to refrain from doing the latter.

If things get too bad, he might just walk away and refuse to continue because he doesn’t want things to get any more heated.

Don’t worry though, he’ll definitely approach you afterwards once both of you have cooled down and talk things over.

He’ll shower you in affection later because he wants you to know that he really sincerely loves you, and nothing can change that.

Which reminds me, like I said, he’s not very good at expressing his affection for you.

But it’s all the little gestures that count.

He’ll buy you things to crochet with, a poetry book you’ve been eyeing, a new camera for your birthday... he’ll geek out with you over greek mythology because it and will ask you to explain more about it and astrology.

He loves hearing you go on and on about those things because he takes a genuine interest in them.

You two can spend ages just raving on about it, inserting witty comments and cynical remarks as you dive deeper into the mythology.

He admires the way your eyes just shine when you talk about the things that you’re passionate about.

He also admires your loyalty.

I don’t think he’s had many long-lasting relationships before, so he’s both touched and amazed at how fiercely loyal you are.

And not just to him, but to your family members, friends and beliefs.

You’ll defend what you believe in, stick by your friends when they’re in the right and endlessly support your family.

When you bring him back hime for the first time, he almost pisses himself with fear.

He hides it well but you can tell how anxious he is from the way his palms sweat and he tightens his grip on your hand before you go in.

At first your parents aren’t that fond of him?

But soon enough, Renjun’s charms and humour rubs off on them and they find themself growing more attached to him.

Even after they’ve grown to like him, Renjun will still be a little nervous every time he stands before them.

Renjun doesn’t know much about psychology, but once again he’s intrigued to learn more about new things.

He doesn’t want to bother you while you study though, but he enjoys being in your company, so he’ll hang around you, on his phone or watching a movie.

Once again, he’s not great at physically or verbally potraying his affection, but you can really tell he sincerely loves you when he brings you a cup of your favourite drink and a small plate of fuits while you study or when he reminds and nags at you to stretch and take short breaks.

While you take breaks after particularly long study sessions, this will be one of the rare times Renjun is touchy as he hugs you close to him, kissing you slowly on your sheets as the soft glow of the sun pours through the blinds and he whispers to you, convincing you to take a longer break.

»» ──────　[*:. ☁︎ .:*]　────── ««

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧. | 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬.

#toaster asks #toaster ships

[schrijverr]

Quiet

Will had always been quiet, this is the story of how he found and lost his voice again through a happy boy in the middle of an awful war.

On AO3.

Ships: implied Blakefield

Warnings: Canon character death, suicidal thoughts and war

~~~~~~~~~~

Will had just turned eighteen when the war broke out. He was old enough to sign up for the war effort and he did along with millions of others. He’d always been a quiet kid, but he loved to read and he had been taken by the grand adventures the characters went on, so he hoped that this would be the start of his very own adventure.

This hope was crushed almost as soon as Will arrived on French soil. He was send to Marne to fight by the river Ourcq. Will didn’t know it was called this at the time, he had only learned that days later when they’d dug themselves in, Germans on the other side. When the battle was done, the fields turned into no man’s land and when the idea that this war was an adventure was beat out of him. He looked and only saw a new sort of slaughterhouse.

Yes, Will had always been quiet, but now, now he barely say a word.

He eventually got some friends, it was hard not to become acquainted with some people when most of your evening activities consisted of sitting around together. They talked about everything and nothing, Will learned more about people’s sex-life than he had ever wanted. He even shared some things about himself, although it was far out of his comfort zone to do so.

There was Hendrickson, who was full of smiles and laughs, with more jokes stored in his head than there was time to tell them.

There was Ryan, who had big dreams of becoming a politician and marrying a rich girl, never taking offense in the reverse marrying-rich jokes from the others.

There was Holland, who shared the silence with Will when the rambunctiousness got too much, but who also had a voice of gold that helped them when the nightmares got too bad and the days too long.

There was Graham, who was as dirty as he was religious, much to the amusements of others, but he was there to say the prayers when it seemed like their last moments had arrived.

Then there was the Somme.

Hendrickson fell in the first wave over the trenches, the closed formation proving a mistake. Ryan got stuck in the barbed wire and shot, the munition not enough to destroy them like they’d been promised. Holland blown up by their own mines that were timed wrong, too early and too late. Graham, who had bled out with his cross still clutched in his hand. And Will, the one who survived.

He survived every god forsaken day at the Somme, all 171 days he lived. He got a medal and a leave out of it, along with memories he could never forget and nightmares that would haunt him till the day he died.

His mother and sister knew he had never been a talker, but they weren’t prepared for the silence that Will carried with him.

He had been back for a few days, Lance Corporal Schofield, leading by example on the front lines when the new supply forces came. They were all fresh out of training with hope in their eyes and young unhardened faces.

Will avoided them as much as he could. He had done this song and dance before. He would sit with them, get to know their names and faces, personality traits and then they would die. And Will couldn’t go through that again, so he found a tree and made it his tree. He sat there when he had time off and he didn’t talk to anyone unless he had orders.

The new Privates soon learned to leave him alone, no one wanted to mess with the quiet one that had been here since the start. One of the longest surviving soldiers on the front and how he wished that fact was different.

Yes, everybody left him alone, just like he wanted, everyone except one.

Lance Corporal Blake, who had gotten that rank on good instinct at training before he had even arrived. He was young, just turned nineteen around Christmas. He was young and it showed, it showed in his enthusiasm, his smiles and in the stories he told. He was a goof and he lightened the mood around camp, always in for a game of cards or some small talk.

He was the opposite of Will in every way, but still he had chosen Will to follow around everywhere.

He was there next to Will when the man woke up and he would follow him to the Mess, they were assigned to dig together and to be the look out. Yet Blake didn’t get bored, he just talked and talked, with happy hand movements and open smiles. He wouldn’t look expectantly at Will when he asked a question, but Will didn’t answer, instead he would shrug and move on like nothing happened. He would even sit in silence next to Will and watch the sun go down.

Will was waiting for the day the smile disappeared and the stories ceased, when Blake would realize the hell he’d found himself in and give up on being lively or, even worse, when there was a battle from which Will would return once more, but there would be no Blake the next day, because his body had become part of the landscape while his soul went up to the heavens and all his mother would get was a letter about how brave he had been. Will hoped the day would never come.

It was early January 1917 when Will opened his mouth without having to for the first time in months. He had barely been aware that he had done it, he had only answered Blake’s question. The boy had been going on about his home and the fields when he had asked Will: “So yeah, I help in the fields in the summer. Where are you from? What do you do in the summer?”

Will had shrugged and said: “London, but not really the good part. I just work in the factory, or I used to at least.”

Normally after Blake had asked a question he would continue on talking, but now he had fallen silent. He was looking at Will with an open mouth, which Will only noticed after he looked at the other when he had fallen silent for a few seconds. He raised an eyebrow and asked: “What?”

His own eyes had grown wide the moment he realized what he had done. He had talked, but that wasn’t the thing that bothered him the most, it was what came with the fact that he had talked that worried him. He only talked when it was necessary or when he was close with someone. It hadn’t been necessary, so that only left being close.

He couldn’t afford it to be close with someone, but now he was. He hadn’t even realized it, but Blake had grown on him and now they were friends. He was friends with Blake and it was too late, when the boy died, the last piece of his heart would die as well.

His brain was screaming at him to run away, to get away from Blake and hope his heart hadn’t gotten too attached. That he could still cut his ties with the other if he ran now. He was almost turning away when Blake smiled and he realized that he was in too far. He knew he couldn’t turn away, not now and not later, his heart had gripped Blake close and wasn’t about to let go.

Still smiling and unaware of the turmoil he was causing Blake said: “That’s still necessary work, Scho. I mean, helping on the fields isn’t exactly glamorous either, but it is fun. You see, me and Joe used to go there and just fuck shit up when we were little and now those people are our bosses, but we were never caught, so they don’t know it was us. We made a game out of it: how many times can we vaguely mention the stuff we got up to before they figure it out? It’s amazing.” and Blake was chattering on once more, leaving Will to follow him, because there was nothing else to do.

He had been a quiet kid, whose silence was a shield that was now slowly being thorn down.

Three months later and Will said about one fifth of their conversations, not nearly taking the lion share, but still talking quite a bit, much to Blake’s excitement. In that short period of time Blake learned that Will had a mother who also worked in the factories and a father who had died at Verdun, but his sister had married quite a well off man and she didn’t need to work at all, she could care for her two children. Twin girls that Will loved a lot, he had jokingly commented that he was the fun uncle however unlikely that may seem, but that was also because he was their only uncle. He had surprised his friend with his dry comments and banter. Blake also learned about Wills love for books and poetry and he listened to Will softly recite them while they sat together watching the sunsets like they had always done.

It was now early April and they had fallen asleep by Wills tree that had slowly become their tree. The Sargent was waking Blake up telling him to pick a man and grab his kit. Will already knew, who Blake would pick, of course he did, because that’s what he had done since he arrived. He had picked Will and Will had followed his lead.

The mission they were send on seemed impossible and Will wanted to wait, to prolong their time together, because something deep down told him that this wasn’t going to end well. It wasn’t going to end well and Will would live, because that was all he had done, he had lived while everything collapsed around him. But Blake wouldn’t listen, he kept on walking and Will kept on following, because there was nothing else he could do.

When the rat tripped the wire he thought that his end had finally come, he vaguely felt bad that Blake would be buried with him, but an ugly and bigger part of him was glad that he didn’t have to live on while Blake died, but then there was a hand pulling him along and miraculously both made it out of there alive.

Will got a bit of hope, so far everything was going as well as it could. Maybe they would make it, both of them, with Blake chattering and he himself commenting here and there. Then they were suddenly talking about medals and Will almost said too much, laid himself bare for this boy, but he stopped himself.

He had never said a lot and he wouldn’t say too much after so long of quiet.

Blake took it in stride, he always had and he didn’t mind to continue chattering on and ignore Wills faults like nothing had happened. Will had never been more grateful for a person than he had been for Blake in that moment.

They walked on until everything suddenly went to shit. Stupid planes, stupid pilot and stupid naivety, they should have kept walking, they should have shot the pilot, but they hadn’t and now Blake was bleeding out in his arms asking the always quiet kid to talk and Will tried, he tried so hard. He told Blake he would write his mum and that he knew the way, that he would find his brother and complete their mission, but more than that he couldn’t say, no matter how much Blake was pleading.

The sounds were stuck in his throat, only exploding out when the soldiers in the truck wouldn’t help him when he had to go on, he had to.

He was focused, he just needed to find the Devon's, find Joe. Silently he was walking, but the quiet kept building up in his head until the dam broke when he found the woman with the baby. He recited a poem, it had been Blake’s favourite and he wanted to never stop telling it, but the church bells rang and he had to go, he had to keep on walking.

Not walking, running. He was running through the streets then he was flying through the air and then, then he was floating. For a moment he thought he was floating away, up to the heavens, but he couldn’t he had a mission. The boy that was singing reminded him of Holland, but Holland was dead along with Blake and soon these people would be as well. They would die if he didn’t keep on running, the mission wasn’t over yet, he could still save them.

Then as almost as suddenly as it had started the mission was over, he was standing in front of Joe and wordlessly gave him the rings that had been on the warm fingers of his brother not even a day ago. He stood there feeling empty, before stumbling over the field where he sat under a lone tree and looked out over the field. It was a sunrise and not a sunset. It was quiet and there was no chattering. He was alone and everything was opposite to normal and it would never go back.

He tried to write the letter, but the quiet kid that had found his voice again had run out of words to say.

The page stayed blank.

#RR writing #1917 #1917 movie #will schofield #Tom blakex will schofield #Tom Blake #joseph blake #Blakefield #tw: war #tw: suicidal thought #canon character death

[alexakeyloveloki]

To Trick a Trickster Chapter 2

Thank you everyone, who encouraged me telling me that I can do it. Also, I love you @dangertoozmanykids101 , you are my angel. 

To Trick a Trickster chapter 2

Pairing: Loki x ofc (Leanne Danton) 

Warning: non (yet) 

Two weeks had past and Leanne never saw Loki again. She hadn't thought about him either. Books were arriving in Asgard at a steady pace, and the sheer amount of work may have been overwhelming, but she loved every minute of it. The courtiers slowly began to show interest in this new unknown literature from Midgard, and that made her immensely proud. She spoke with everyone in order to offer the perfect book they would enjoy. If the book choice was a good match, they would return for more.

 It was Sunday morning, but Leanne woke up just as early as every other day. Her chamber was relatively small, but it had a beautiful attached bath and a nice big soft bed. Still the best thing about being in the bedchamber of Thor and Loki's childhood teacher was the view. The window had a wide padded ledge overlooking part of the late Queen's garden.

 Leanne opened her eyes and smiled. Somehow this wonderful golden light leaking into her room every morning made her happy. It was her day off, but she decided to peek into the library anyway. Maybe she would find a good Asgardian book translated to English.

 While she trotted down the halls she was greeted with smiles and head bows from guards and servants. Somehow this bright-eyed girl with an equally bright mind and shining smile turned how people thought about Midgard.

 The library was quiet and Leanne loved having the enormous space all to herself.  But she had barely dug into the history books when she felt someone watching her.

At the end of the aisle stood a woman dressed in a dark grey dress.  

 “Hello! Can I help you? Are you interested in Midgardian literature?”

 The woman came closer, moving with fluid elegance, her long raven black hair sleek and pliant at her shoulders. She was tall and curvaceous, though her face was somehow angular. Her bright toothy smile made her muddy green eyes shine.  

 “Good day to you, Lady Leanne. I’m really glad that you are here today. Maybe you can offer me a nice novel or book of poetry perhaps? My name is Astrid. I came to the court not so long ago.” Her voice was deep and velvety, reminding Leanne of someone, but she just couldn’t remember who.

 “Let me think,” said Leanne with a smile. “Are you interested in some magical stories?”

 “You mean something like children's tales? I thought something more serious,” sounding a little bit disappointed, but smiled anyway.

 “No, no, no, no. This is beautiful, and I assure you this is entirely for grown ups. It is called One Hundred Years Of Solitude.“

 “I will listen to your advice Lady Leanne.  I heard so many courtiers praising your choice for them. But pray tell, who is this Bard they are referring to?”

 Leanne laughed sweetly and started to explain about Shakespeare.  As she spoke, she dug  around in the remaining boxes while her curly hair fell over into her face.

 “Somewhere I have  one more book of his sonets … Oh, this hair of mine!” She huffed, struggling to  blow it out of her eyes.

 “My Lady, let me braid your hair.  It will take me only a little bit of time, and then you can find said book for me,” Astrid pleaded.

 In no time Leanne found herself in a chair while Astrid’s long, elegant fingers combed her hair. It felt almost like magic. With no pulling or knots, Leanne felt truly relaxed.

 After that first encounter Astrid became a regular in the library, somehow making her appearance only when Leanne was alone. The young librarian quickly thought of her as a friend.

 Astrid devoured   every book recommended to her at an incredible speed and always gave an honest opinion about them. Sometime sarcastic or sassy, but she was honest nevertheless.

 One rainy day Astrid found Leanne less chatty that usual.

 “Is there something wrong, Lady Leanne?”

“No, not at all. Just…”,she fiddled with her fingers. “I do miss my family. I know I volunteered for this mission, but I have been thinking about my family and home a lot and I do miss those idiots sometimes”.

 “You have brothers?” asked Astrid in an amused tone.

 “You could guess from just a noun?” Leanne laughed with a mischievous spark in her eyes. “Five of them.”

 Astrid sighed sympathetically.

 “It was not that bad. Just being the youngest I never was truly alone.  Adam is the oldest of all of us, making him the only child for ten years. So when Freddy was born, he sulked a lot. We sometimes called him the gloomy one,” she giggled adorably. “But he was always there to babysit us or play peacemaker. He now writes music for other performers .

 “Freddy has always been a whirlwind of energy and a total lady's man flirting right and left. As a pilot, he owns a little flight school .

 “Now Jonathan is the rock that we all rely on and always have. He and his wife, Sofie, live in the same town as my parents, managing a small bed and breakfast.   

 “And then there are the twins. Only four years older than I am, they dragged me me into all kinds of trouble ever since I was a toddler. Henry is unbelievable.– I think Lord Big Mouth the Prince of Tricks would like him.

William, on the other hand, is the nicest person, sweet and hard working, but he still follows Henry everywhere. They are both Shield agents now. Henry thought that was a good idea to save the world when he joined them. It also didn’t hurt that unlike the regular military, they do not care if you have a mugshot somewhere in the police records, for joyriding in a milk delivery truck.“

 She laughed again, clear and round, and Astrid thought that there was a lot more light in the room somehow.

 Later that day, Leanne got a small parcel delivered in her room. When she opened, there was a beautiful silver bracelet with charms on it: a harp, a wing, a house, a sword and a heart. She stood there dumbfounded with watery eyes and thought about how to thank her friend for it.

 “Oh Astrid, you are such a kind soul. I really need to find you some gift.” Leanne smiled thinking of some interesting books she could order, clasping the bracelet to her wrist.

 In the meantime in the chambers of the God of Mischief, two chambermaids exchanged some worried looks. Loki was humming around, winking at them, looking utterly satisfied. They hurried to finish their work for the evening, because this behavior could mean only one thing: Loki was up to something and nobody in their sane mind would want to be near him when he unleashed his newest trick.

 “Lord Big Mouth the Prince of Tricks? Oh, little one, that sweet tongue of yours just put you in so much trouble!” He whistled some slow melody as he went to his desk and started to read one of the spellbooks.

#lokific library trickster fiction loki

[westywrites]

Book Interview tag game

Thanks @ratracechronicler for tagging me, this is very interesting!

1. What prompted you to write your novel/story/script/podcast/poetry collection?

A dream I had and something I read somewhere that stuck in my head where someone said something like “this isn’t freedom this is a fate worse than death”. At least, I think I read it somewhere, but it may have just been something that popped into my head. Who knows. I just know that that line and the dream nagged at me until I was telling it to myself as a daydream story type thing/way to fall asleep and got too attached to the characters and world. 

2. Who has been the biggest influence on this piece of work?

Inadvertently, one of my roommates in a lot of ways that she doesn’t even know. And my older brother, who helps me with history and geography stuff.

3. Was your main character inspired by anyone you know? Do you think they appreciate the likeness?

All five of the kids are roughly inspired by an amalgamation of kids I’ve interacted with through work and none of them will ever know. 

4. Why do you think people need to read your book?

No one needs to read it, but they’ll have fun if they do. (and maybe be inspired or learn something or whatever)

5. Whom are you most excited to read your book?

Teens who could use a world like this to escape and remember the magic in the world and the importance of friendship and all that. The kind of people this story will have an impact on.

6. Which is your favourite scene that didn’t make it into the final draft?

Considering the first draft is not completed, nothing yet. But I have a feeling I may never find somewhere to put this cute scene I keep imagining between Cambridge and Helio.

7. Do you have any more stories planned that are set in the same universe?

There’s probably going to be a second book of this series, and the universe begs for more after or before this story, so probably eventually. 

8. What would you say is the main theme of your book?

Taking control of your life.

9. Do you have any plans for a movie adaptation of your work? What would you have to change? What would absolutely have to stay the same?

Oh man, a movie adaptation would be incredibly cool (magic! dramatics!) A lot of things would have to be sorted out as to how to depict the magic and the physical sensations I describe along with it. Cambridge’s visions would be really cool to see in movie format. 

The race of the characters is a must! Helio being nonbinary and using a cane is a must! Characters’ powers staying the same is a must! (Do not let Tim Burton direct it and ruin all these sorts of things like he did to Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children) Oh, and the talking ravens are a must.

10. What’s one quote that you wrote that just stuck with you?

When Lennox says, “Stop with the cryptic warnings. I know the world is shit, I’ve grown up in it.”

I don’t know who to tag, so if you see this, you are tagged. Yes, I mean you. If you are even slightly interested, go for it and tag me so I can see!

#West Answers #writeblr #tag game #book interview tag #the corvine

[pussyboie-blog]

hello  gays  &  gays  !  ever  seen  a  goth  KING  make  classical  music  ?  have  u  ever  been  in  the  process  of  making  a  muse  &  they  turned  out  to  be  eons  more  emo™  than  what  you  ever  had  in  mind  for  them  ?  do  u  love  cinnamon  rolls  that  can  cut  ?  mr  rome  right  here  is  ALL  THREE  ,  homeboy  just  scored  a  hat - trick  ladies  and  gents  !!!!   ─ ─ ─        what’s  up  nerds  ,  i’m  KERO  and  i  love  t*ddies  u__u  here  with  who  may  as  well  be  foxcroft’s  punching  bag  ,  my  actual  son  &  my stars  ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟﻭ  no  more  rambling  ,  enjoy  the  intro  &  have  his  PINTEREST  BOARD !  d*scord  is  the  way  to  go  &  where  i’m  a  tad  more  accessible  right  now  and  overall  tbh  ,  but ims  are  an  option  too  !!!  I Just Think  He  ( d*scord )  Is  Neat  .  JPG  @  𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐎. #7261

❛          /          ♡          I     :     APPLICATION     。

⦗  𝙆𝙀𝙍𝙊 , 𝙏𝙒𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙔 , 𝙎𝙃𝙀/𝙃𝙀𝙍 , 𝙂𝙈𝙏  ⦘ ⇸ have you seen  𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐔𝐍  walking around foxcroft?  you know, the  𝐶𝐼𝑆𝑀𝐴𝐿𝐸 𝐽𝐸𝑂𝑁 𝐽𝐸𝑂𝑁𝐺𝐺𝑈𝐾  lookalike?  apparently the  𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 - 𝐎𝐍𝐄  year old  𝑀𝑈𝑆𝐼𝐶 𝑃𝑅𝑂𝐷𝑈𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 & 𝐸𝑁𝐺𝐼𝑁𝐸𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑁𝐺  major is really  + 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖  , but also kinda  - 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓  . i hope i don’t get on  𝑯𝑰𝑺  bad side.

❛          /          ♡          II     :     THROWING IT BACK     。

𝐓𝐖 :     domestic abuse , poverty , hinted depression .

rome byun hasn’t had the prettiest of lives, akin more to a tasteless joke or a bad dream. born in the borough of brooklyn: poor, with nowhere to drop dead  &  his only salvation a mother that got the soul beat out of heart by a man that didn’t love her, a stranger in the eyes of a kid that refused to acknowledge a monster as his father. the ticking bomb that was the repressed anger swallowed thorough the years turned the flimsy kid into a man throwing punches at the horror living in their house. far too young, with a lip split in two  &  body beat until he couldn’t anymore. but it’s okay mom, he’s far away now, forever. no more dry blood  &  purple blotches blemishing your skin.

life was spent in a multitude of badly paid jobs and alone. a mother that had to work as much as him to make it through another month  &  no time for friends. he didn’t need them, they won’t put food on the table, right ?  his only comfort was music, the soothing medicine that calmed his aching, blue heart and nights wasted on nightmares. for as long as he remembers, he gave up many things to further drown himself in that little magic, not quite recalling when did he create his first beat, his first melody. he was enamoured, mouth watering then feeling like sand against his palate with the thirst to explore deeper into it.

❛          /          ♡          III     :     NO PRINTER JUST FAX     。

to make it clear, the day he fought the rat and got his ass beat senseless the cops got called, now the bastard  ( read: his father )  is in jail  &  has a restraining order for rome and his mum so who’s the real winner.

bitch is empty. EMPTY !!!!  has a hard time getting attached to people, rarely happens, and same with passions / hobbies. can’t sort out his feelings at all. drake created the line “i only love my bed and my momma” SOLELY  for rome, champagne papi said so.

don’t really know why but he radiates  BIG DUMBASS ENERGY  . think of usagi  &  goku. maybe naruto ?  stupid sandwich. i also relate red roses to him a lot, dial god and ask him why, because i don’t know a single thing my guy !

to expand on his emptiness:   there’s this sense of loneliness that has always been with him, a gaping hole inside him he doesn’t know how to fill up. sometimes he uses sex as a coping mechanism. it only makes him feel even more empty afterwards but at least he nutted (✧ω✧)

aside from music and the occassional sex, reading poetry is a strong way he has to cope and simply clear his mind. relax. goes second after music. likely to always carry one of the poetry books he has with him.

with so many jobs while simultaneously attempting to have decent grades in school, he has grown used to not sleeping much and lowkey became a night owl. nighttime slowly became a safe haven.

emo goth that likes tattoos but hasn’t really gotten any so far. always stares for far too long at people that has them. also likes polaroids, taking the train and fast food.

somehow clingy but in a subtle way ???  if you’re close enough he’ll probably let you play with his hair or do his make up or paint his nails, or he will hold onto the sleeve of your sweater or stand close or feed you. GOOD DOMESTIC SHIT. has a very lowkey of taking care of people too.

get used to this with me because i am: dumb but i almost forgot something  REALLY  important: weird that he’s majoring in MP&E on this institution but his reason is exactly that, because it’s unusual and he wants to expand his limits. he’s interested in all kinds of music and while he’s fluent in more modern, popular styles, this is something new for him and he’s THRIVING. thank you that was my ted talk.

❛          /          ♡          IV     :     PERSONALITY     。

rome is really sweet and soft, a good person at heart, but the circumstances he had to grow in didn’t give him much room to grow outside of himself, so it has resulted in him being extremely closed off. he has an extremely hard time when it comes to opening up, letting others in, anything remotely related to feelings. he feels truly empty and believes he cannot truly love anyone other than his mum. but when he finally lets the walls down and allows himself to love someone  ( be it romantically or platonically )  he loves like no other, goes fully in.

overall an extreme introvert and a bit deadpan, looks like he’s always on this neutral, impassive emotional state. well - mannered and respectful by default. his more animated side shows when he’s interested in something, like music. his sense of humour scratches nihilism, the kinda Life Has No Meaning , Hope That Truck Runs Me Over type of humour. kind of a pacifist too, doesn’t like to fight but will if he has reached his limit.

❛          /          ♡          V     :     WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE     。

some plot ideas i’d like to have but like, you know, just throwing these in here so i don’t forget and in case someone fits in here. your ideas ?  VALID.

𝟎𝟎𝟏  :  ��𝑒𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑤.    /    in summary, someone who has been in his life since he was really young, actively or not. a neighbor, someone from his school, an old friend. lots of room !!!  they aren’t really close though, probably has seen him from a distance, or used to be in his life but not anymore. damn !

𝟎𝟎𝟐  :  𝑐𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑠𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔.    /    yeah. text - book  fuck buddies, friends with benefits, hit it and quit it. what mentioned before, somebody he nuts with when he’s feeling extra empty. hesitant about having two of these since he doesn’t have a high libido or is too into rawing, but still possible !

𝟎𝟎𝟑  :  𝑧𝑒𝑟𝑜 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠.    /    lord forgive me for i’m selective as fuck with this one. rome needs a best friend and he needs it  BADLY  . it has to be someone he can be comfortable be, someone he can trust completely and someone that’ll understand him and be there for him. kid has a lot of inner demons. i think someone that’s the opposite of him could be good, but it really depends. if you can see it working, let me know !!  just yeah, selective because rome is. well. rome.

me ?  missing something ?  LIKELY !!!  but in conclusion:  i love my son. revolting how long this got, so THANK U for reading this far, you have my whole heart and one titty. mwah (づ￣ ³￣)づ

#fc:intro #gotta hate when things get long unwillingly and there's no way to chop it u__u #the d app is there for plotting or just talking; open 24/7 for all your needs ^_^ #navigation and a few pages coming SOON to your nearest cinemas!

[tfloosh]

Ecstasy

Today’s fic is going to come with a mini lecture because I’m an English nerd. Now if you haven’t read John Donne’s The Ecstasy, I actually suggest you don’t unless you can understand 17th century poetry and have a grasping of the metaphysical conceit. But the beautiful thing about The Ecstasy is it’s totally unique way of depicting love and intimacy as something greater than just emotion and sex. I even had a fight with my English prof over whether the poem represented romantic love or erotic love (a serious debate among Donne scholars apparently). But the most important thing you need to know is that I’m using the same definition of ecstasy as John Donne, or the state of being “beside oneself;” the rapture in which the body was supposed to become incapable of sensation, when the soul was engaged in the contemplation of divine things (OED 3.a.).

So today’s TP Zelink fic runs along these lines of the intimacy of togetherness and joining souls in ecstasy.

Link couldn’t stop staring at her. Her eyes just captivated him. They were like violets, a pure, deep purple that sparkled like the finest gemstones. She looked back at him, and the world froze. They were attached, drawn together. Link crossed the dance floor and reached his hand out to Queen Zelda.

“May I have this dance?” he bowed without taking his eyes off hers.

“Of course, Sir Link,” she gave him a demure smile.

He whisked her off to the dance floor. Link wished it could always be like this. Just the two of them together. They had been sneaking around for so long. Tomorrow they could officially announce their courtship, but Link didn’t want to wait.

“How unchivalrous would it be if I ravished you after the ball tonight?” he whispered in her ear.

“Highly unchivalrous,” she murmured back without missing a step in their dance. “I never thought you to be so impatient, Sir Link. Surely you can wait one night.”

“Another night without you would be torture,” he breathed.

“Now you sound like a love-sick poet,” she smiled as the dance ended.

“Only for you, my Queen,” he bowed and kissed her hand reverently.

Link spent the rest of the night watching his Queen from afar. He never understood what drew him to her. This connection had simply been there from the beginning, ever since he first laid eyes on her as a wolf. He loved her with all his heart, with his entire soul, and damn chivalry if he had to wait another night to be with her.

“Unchivalrous indeed,” Queen Zelda smirked as she opened the door to her private apartments to reveal Link. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Sir Link?”

“My impatience may just be something you have to get used to, Your Majesty,” he tilted his head. “Though I know you are just as impatience as I.”

“You are just as stubborn as well,” she scolded but let him into her rooms anyway.

“You want to be together as much as I do,” he wrapped his arms around her waist and began fiddling with the ties on her dress. “Otherwise you would have forbade me from coming up here tonight.”

“You would have ignored me anyway,” she breathed, placing her hands on his chest but refusing to meet his lips in a kiss.

“My Queen’s word is law,” he murmured into her neck. “It would be treasonous to disobey.”

“Then obey the words of your Queen,” she broke away from him and retreated to the door to her bedroom. “You are to do everything but ravish me.”

She disappeared into her bedroom, leaving Link to figure out what she meant. Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to join her.

***

He held her throughout the night, simply watching her as she slept. He caressed her hand with his, reveling in this feeling of being together, of being one.

They were two halves of the same whole. Link knew he could only be his true self with Zelda at his side, and he knew she felt the same. They were better together, stronger together. Link would spend the rest of his life beside this woman, for as long as she would have him.

“I love you,” he whispered into her ear before placing a soft kiss on her shoulder.

It felt silly to think that this was all preordained, that it was written in the stars for them to be together. But Link had to wonder.

***

They returned from their honeymoon to shouts and cheers and whispered questions of pregnancy. Zelda didn’t give the nobles anything. Instead she returned to her previous schedule albeit with Link at her side.

It was a world of difference from herding goats in Ordon Village, but Link found he liked it. He was given new duties appropriate to his station, such as overseeing the army and working as a liaison for Ordon Village and other area village leaders. It was hard work, and it sometimes led to periods of time when Link and Zelda would be apart, but they always made up for it by spending time together when they could.

“I’m glad you could convince your secretary to postpone your departure one day,” Link hugged his wife from behind. “It would be torture to return home with you already gone for a week.”

“Ever the love-sick poet,” she turned her head so he would see her smile. “They have dinner prepared for us.”

Link couldn’t take his eyes off Zelda during their meal. That connection he had felt from the beginning had not faded in the years they had been together. If anything, it had only grown.

“What?” she smiled up at him when she caught him staring. “Does my love-sick poet have no words?”

Link shook his head and smiled, “Do you believe in soulmates?”

“I don’t know,” Zelda looked down at her food. “It’s strange to think that there is a perfect partner for everyone, but then I look at you, and I wonder how could it not be true.”

“I understand,” he reached across the table to hold her hand. “I would be a lesser man without you by my side, even with all my deeds in the Twilight Invasion.”

“I love you, Link,” she brought his hand up to her lips.

“I love you, too,” he smiled.

#zelink #zelink month #zelink month 2018 #tp zelink #twilight princess #loz #flooshfics

[wenskexing]

What do you think about the people who don’t really like Dr. Ye or think that he is “too perfect” to have an emotional bond with him? I’ve been reading about how they think he has no real character development compared to Minho. I just wanted to ask what you think about the whole Dr. Ye vs Minho line. Or rather if you think Dr. Ye is endgame?

so uhhhh this got exorbitantly long feel free to skim lmao. i didn’t even realize how much pent up anger i had yikes 

I haven’t stumbled on anyone saying that Jae Wook is too perfect yeeet but I think it’s ridiculous. Complex characters don’t need have to have dramatic traits and super major flaws or anything. It sounds more to me like an expectation that an audience member may have rather than an actual writing/characterization thing. Anyways, I actually find him very realistic because there are many people that are closed off and just because they seem a certain way, it doesn’t mean that they aren’t going through some stuff on the inside. To assume that reflects more of an individual’s preconceived notions. 

A person’s attachment to a character is at the end of the day, subjective. But like with any kind of media consumption, that doesn’t mean that a person shouldn’t analyze things critically. Jae Wook isn’t your typical “cold” kind of dude. He’s been betrayed by someone he probably considered his life partner and I’m honestly surprised that more people aren’t resonating with that. To trust someone is so fundamentally human and to have that aspect be violated is awful. We know that he has the capacity to care because he already has, with his ex and with the way that he treats his patients, but it’s subtle. 

People would rather gossip than to actually get to know him and that’s been something that the show has played with throughout. The only one that shows any kind of genuine nature is Bo Young and because of this he gravitates towards her, coming to rely and trust her without even realizing it. I don’t blame him for being anti-social after been so gossiped about that his last workplace become a hostile one. I also think that there’s a fascinating duality to his character in the way that yes, he’s in control of his emotions and but when you actually strip that control away, you will find that he’s actually out-of-tune with his emotions and says just that to Bo Young who is the exact opposite. 

He’s jealous of the way that she could easily cry and turns “cry-baby Bo Young” what has been used as an insult throughout her life, into a compliment. For the longest time as a pretty angry child, I always bottled up my feelings and was furious at myself every time I cried. I’ve grown to accept that about myself nowadays and have come to like that about myself. All it means is that I have the ability to empathize with others in a way that a lot of others in the world don’t care enough to. I don’t mean to get personal here but that sentiment really meant a lot to me just as much as it probably did to Bo Young. Seeing someone that also recognizes one of the very things that make her such a wonderful character feels amazing. 

Back to my point, this is obviously a flaw that he recognizes in himself and I don’t see why that wouldn’t be valid. More on this can be seen in this post and have also been addressed by @justonehappyvictory and @theflowergirl who both have also written about this very issue. I linked it there just in case you or anyone is still curious and/or haven’t seen it yet. They also go into this whole debacle of Min Ho vs. Jae Wook thing going on too but since I’m here, I’ll go ahead and give my two cents as well.

For me, the two of them aren’t comparable AT ALL. I’ll throw out there that I despise Min Ho and no one can convince me otherwise. I don’t owe him anything and Bo Young sure as hell doesn’t either. I don’t know where this ~discourse is coming from but I think most of us need to do some reevaluation here—or not, I don’t really care either way. 

On to what you asked about what people have been saying about their Min Ho’s “development” to Jae Wook’s. Character development is defined as “the change in characterization of a dynamic character, who changes over the course of a narrative” (this definition is from Wikipedia but that’s pretty much right so we’ll go with it). Okay so what do we know about Min Ho? Well, that he went to college with Bo Young and has been consistently mean to her ever since, UNTIL he starts to like her WHEN SHE ALREADY LIKES SOMEONE ELSE. This is important folks because 1) it’s bad timing and 2) it’s shitty. 

Sure he becomes nice to her, okay cool, but that doesn’t negate the constant berating that Bo Young has had to endure by almost everyone because they’re all also shitty. And yeah he’s “changed” but would he have? I don’t know, it’s all conjecture and “what ifs” but it doesn’t change the fact that his “development” is external rather than internal. What I mean by this is that he becomes nice only when it suited him because he now has a personal interest in Bo Young. 

Jae Wook on the other hand has always been kind (albeit still reserved) to her BEFORE he even realized that he liked her back. His development then stems internally as a true character evolution as he begins to open up. He isn’t opening up to please Bo Young, it is a result of his time around her. There is no ulterior motive. He is simply evolving, as characters and people do in real life. Those that cry out that he isn’t as complex as Min Ho are simply disregarding what’s in front of them and are putting their own preferences on display. 

Obviously this isn’t a blanket statement because having a preference isn’t wrong of course. But it is still important to engage with the material meaningfully and critically. If you’re here to just have fun, then that’s cool too. Just don’t impose your own biases onto others and pass it off as something that it isn’t. Another thing that’s been bothering me that @akria23 also has addressed in the post that I linked earlier is this idea of entitlement and the “deserving” game when it comes to the female lead. To say that one guy “deserves” Bo Young is frankly misogynistic as it objectifies the woman as something to be coveted and won. It also disregards her agency in the matter as an adult woman capable of making decisions for herself. 

I have also seen floating around that neither of them “deserve” her. This is not progressive. I get that a lot of us are chugging the “loving Bo Young” juice and want only the best for her but this isn’t the way to do it. The fact of the matter is, Bo Young CHOSE Jae Wook and has continued doing so. Until Jae Wook actually does something crappy then I’ll also be on that train. But as of what’s been shown to us, he isn’t perfect and now that they’re together they are trying to make things work. 

All he’s done is dote and care for Bo Young. What’s so wrong about that? Denying that, also denies a component to her character. It’s really not about teams, because at the end of the day, it isn’t about the men. She had a crush on a genuinely sincere man who compliments, and respects her and who also loves her poetry! And now likes her back! Why should that be taken away from her? Some women don’t need a man, but some do want a man and that’s chill too!

Lastly to address the last part of your ask, at this point she’s literally only liked Jae Wook and honestly there’s no doubt in my mind that they’re end game. But of course, nothing’s done until it’s done but my I’ve already placed my bets and I am not backing out anytime soon #YeLine 5eva

#me getting asks? #it's less likely than you think! #thank you for giving me the opportunity to get this off my chest anon! #asks #Anonymous

[fingersinhisass]

bc carly @aldmerii humored me and answered all 60 questions of the oc question thing for shaelle, i’m gonna do it for al as well even tho literally no one asked so. here goes!

1. WHAT IS YOUR CHARACTER’S BIGGEST FEAR?

having his friends, people he’s grown to trust and care for, discover all the bad shit he did in the past and basically breaking all ties with him. he’s terrified they’ll think he’s a monster bc well. he thinks he’s a monster sometimes too

2. WHAT IS YOUR CHARACTER’S FAVORITE MEMORY?

it’s not one specific memory exactly, more like. a mix of lots of memories. in the summer he used to play outside all day with the other kids who lived in his neighborhood (very poor, pretty decrepit houses, mostly dust and dying grass) and like. those were some of the best times for him? because he was still too young to care that their family didn’t have enough money to send him to school, or that all of his clothes were hand-me-downs with at least one tear that had been fixed, or that his mother’s face was worn with wrinkles that would better suit someone much older than she was. so he’d play pretend with these kids in his neighborhood, and go on “adventures” and kick around pebbles and wrestle in the dirt, and then he’d come back home to his mother calling him, and she’d wash his face and feet and hands gently and tuck him into bed and he’d fall asleep under the heat to the sound of her soft voice and the insects buzzing in the grass.

3. WHAT IS YOUR CHARACTER’S LEAST FAVORITE MEMORY?

he’s got plenty to pick from, so i don’t think there’s one specific worst. but the gazes of people he willfully hurt, potentially even killed, really haunt him. he tries not to think about the stuff he did when he was younger.

4. DOES ANYONE HAVE A CRUSH ON YOUR CHARACTER? IS YOUR CHARACTER AWARE OF THIS?

my beautiful girl shaelle do,,,, and also this one demon dude they helped once. can’t remember his name bc he’s a pretty irrelevant npc. he was aware of that crush, but he has no fucking clue shaelle likes him

5: DESCRIBE YOUR CHARACTER’S DREAM DATE.

oh man. anything romantic that would make his date happy. it’s cliche, but he’s fond of long walks and candlelit dinners. he’s an exceptionally hopeless romantic.

6: WHAT IS YOUR CHARACTER’S SEXUAL ORIENTATION?

lol what’s that????? al likes a lot of people he’s not picky. he’s actually kinda lowkey a ho. 

7: HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER FEEL ABOUT THEIR NAME?

my boi gots lotsa names. his birth name makes him nostalgic, but he doesn’t really attach it to himself anymore -- the only person who can call him that is his mother. the name he used when he was a thief he absolutely despises. he still twitches if he hears it spoken, regardless of if it’s pointed towards him or not. he picked the name he has now himself, so he likes it quite a bit thank you very much. it makes him feel like a distinguished human gentleman. he’s a fucking doof.

8: DOES YOUR CHARACTER HATE ANYONE? WHY?

al is not someone who hates easily. he trusts easily (too stupid to learn from his past mistakes, he’d remark bitterly, but really it’s because he’s an idealist by nature and wants to believe people are inherently good). he doesn’t respond well to betrayal. at all. he accidentally punched a dude to death once for betraying the group. to be fair, the dude was really fucking old, and he only had one hit point left and failed all his death saves so like. not really al’s fault. you woulda done it too if you were in the same situation

9: HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER FEEL ABOUT RELIGION?

neither of his parents are very religious, and he wasn’t raised religious either, so it doesn’t really matter to him all that much

10. WOULD YOUR CHARACTER EVER KILL SOMEONE?

yes, but only if he felt it was justified and there were no better options. he is strongly against killing people who he feels don’t deserve it, but there are some people he would kill without hesitation solely because he believes their death will benefit many others. he’s got. complicated morals.

11: HOW DID YOUR CHARACTER MEET THEIR BEST FRIEND?

he met borem when they were assigned to be partners. they’re both detectives. although not sure how long that friendship is gonna last now...............

12: HOW WOULD/DOES YOUR CHARACTER FEEL ABOUT ROLLER COASTERS?

terrified. hates heights. don’t make him do this.

13: WHAT WOULD YOUR CHARACTER DIE FOR?

people he loves. easy.

14: WHAT IS THE CUTEST THING YOUR CHARACTER HAS EVER DONE?

when is my boy not cute, honestly???? idk, i can’t pin down a specific instance. but he’s like. super blushy and awkward around people he’s romantically attracted to, and that’s incredibly adorable. he took shaelle to the prison where her brother was being held so they could see each other again after ten years, and that was also very sweet

15: WHAT MUSIC GENRE WOULD YOUR CHARACTER LISTEN TO?

fuck, idk. he strikes me as the kind of person to just listen to whatever’s on. he doesn’t have a very developed taste in music

16: WHAT OTHER FICTIONAL CHARACTERS REMIND YOU OF YOUR CHARACTER?

jeez. probably gumshoe from ace attorney? mostly because they’re both good good detective boys just trying to do their best and i love both of them desperately.

17: DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE ANY IRRATIONAL FEARS?

heights!!! he hates heights!!!!! which is funny bc his acrobatics score is insane.

18: HOW WOULD YOUR CHARACTER FEEL ABOUT HAVING THEIR LIFE RECORDED?

it would make him supremely uncomfortable. he may be very social, but when it comes to his home life he’s intensely private.

19: WHAT IS YOUR CHARACTER’S DEEPEST, DARKEST SECRET?

he gots lotsa those. he’s stolen very important things that resulted in the detriment of others, he’s tortured and killed people, he’s aided in drug trafficking and human trafficking -- with children. which is when he quit, because he couldn’t stand that. he hates watching children suffer.

20: WHAT IS THE MOST SURPRISING THING ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER?

he’s actually a really good detective. not because he’s smart, though -- he’s desperately determined to better society, and he’s also just very, very lucky.

21: IS YOUR CHARACTER FLEXIBLE?

oh my god, yeah. listen, my baby got 18 dex, +7 to acrobatics. he is EXTREMELY flexible. wink wink

22: WHAT IS THE WORST THING YOUR CHARACTER HAS EVER DONE?

oops i kinda answered this one already. i’m not gonna go into detail bc i kinda just don’t want to?? listen he’s done bad things he regrets

23: IS YOUR CHARACTER MORALLY GRAY OR BLACK OR WHITE?

hmm. he generally does things with good in mind, and usually he does it in a way that’s not so bad. but sometimes he twists the rules a little bit in a way that’s. ehh?? he’s not entirely against using violence to better things.

24: WHAT PREJUDICES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

he’s generally not a fan of rich people or the ruling class. ofc he’s got a huge crush on shaelle, but like. she’s the exception

25: WOULD YOU WANT TO HANG OUT WITH YOUR CHARACTER?

no bc he’s devastatingly handsome and i’d be terrified.

26: WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE HEADCANON FOR YOUR CHARACTER?

him whistle real good. he likes to whistle and sing like. all the time. when he’s just idly doing things at home he does it without even realizing it and he’s a little off-key sometimes but he can carry a tune

27: WHAT WOULD BE THE WORST WAY FOR YOUR CHARACTER TO DIE?

at the hands of a friend, probably

28: WHAT PET WOULD YOUR CHARACTER LIKE TO HAVE?

for a while he had some sort of ferret weasel thing? idk if nj is gonna let me say he’s still got it tho lmao

29: WHAT WOULD BE YOUR CHARACTER’S FAVORITE FOOD?

his mom’s recipe for fresh-baked bread. real white bread was a fucking luxurious treat when he was growing up and so whenever his mom would make a small loaf of it, maybe like once or twice a year, it was always so special to him

30: WOULD YOUR CHARACTER HAVE ANY HOBBIES?

he likes to read, especially adventure or romance novels lmao

31: WHAT SOCIAL MEDIA WOULD YOUR CHARACTER USE?

i can see him on twitter??? he’d have no idea how to use it though

32: WHAT DOES YOUR CHARACTER LOOK LIKE?

him real hansom. angular features, high cheekbones, tan skin, very fair hair and silver eyes bc he’s a sun elf. long, long eyelashes that are darker than his hair, thick eyebrows. thin build, 5′10, long nose. i’m lov my boy.

33: IN WHAT WAYS IS YOUR CHARACTER LIKE YOU?

he’s loud, goofy, occasionally pretty snarky, expresses emotions like happiness, excitement, and anger very easily, but feels weak showing sadness and tries to suppress it. fails. head over heels for shaelle.

34: WHAT IS CLICHE ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER?

so many of my characters are pretty boys. so many. also he’s a lovable idiot

35: WHAT IS UNIQUE ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER?

i made him myself n he’s got a big ol’ heart.

36: DOES ANYONE WANT TO HARM YOUR CHARACTER?

there are a lot of people who would kill him immediately if they knew where he was and that he wasn’t dead. he has a lot of enemies.

37: DO PEOPLE HAVE JUSTIFIED GRUDGES AGAINST YOUR CHARACTER?

probably. he speaks his mind a lot and can kind of be an asshole sometimes 

38: WHAT ROLE DOES YOUR CHARACTER PLAY IN THEIR STORY?

he’s there to take everyone to fantasy jcpenny

39: WHAT WOULD BE YOUR CHARACTER’S NICHE ON TUMBLR?

historical fashion blogs and poetry all the way

40: WHAT WOULD BE YOUR CHARACTER’S FAVORITE SCHOOL SUBJECT?

creative writing or some sort of music class. he like both.

41: WOULD YOUR CHARACTER WANT TO HAVE ANY CHILDREN?

YES!!!!! he loves kids. LOVES them. his entire life he’s wanted to be a dad. eventually he’s gonna get married to shaelle and they’re gonna have lotsa babies, but currently he hasn’t had the time to meet anyone or settle down and he’s worried he never will.

42: WHAT WOULD BE YOUR CHARACTER’S DREAM CAREER?

he’s doin’ it. basically he just wants to help people however he can and make up for all the bad things he did for so long

43: WHAT IS YOUR CHARACTER INSECURE ABOUT?

his social class. especially around shaelle. he definitely thinks he is absolutely not worth her time, and the subject of poverty or the social hierarchy in serin ilyan really touches a nerve for him. he also just really, really wants people to like him. 

44: WHAT IS YOUR CHARACTER PROUD OF?

all the good work he’s done as a detective. he’s (surprisingly) solved a lot of cases, and he feels a sense of accomplishment and justice for doing it. like maybe he can start to sleep a little easier knowing he hasn’t just hurt people all his life.

45: WHAT WOULD YOUR CHARACTER CHANGE ABOUT THEMSELVES?

his past. he’d go back and do something different, try to actually work hard and make honest money instead of getting involved in what he did

46: WOULD YOU WANT TO TRADE PLACES WITH YOUR CHARACTER?

hell no. i love him to bits and i’d love to be a really handsome elf man, but like. my boy has way too much guilt that i wouldn’t want to live with.

47: WHAT FANDOMS WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE IN?

al isn’t cool enough to like things like that. plus he’d be very confused by fandom culture i think

48: HOW WOULD YOUR CHARACTER TYPE?

hunt and peck, capitalized first letter but nothing else, punctuation when he sees fit

49: HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER STAND POLITICALLY?

he doesn’t know what, but he knows SOMETHING needs to be done about the poverty in his city. other than that he tends to look at the smaller scale of helping people

50: WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER?

he messes up a lot but he never stops trying?? he has a lot of determination and things he believes in and i love him for that. i love him for trying so hard to be good.

51: WHAT IS YOUR CHARACTER’S FAVORITE ANIMAL?

he likes mice, mostly because they were easy to find when he was a kid and he always caught them and tried to train them, but then felt bad and let them go like an hour later

52: HOW WOULD YOUR CHARACTER ACT IN GYM CLASS?

he’s not super strong but he is crazy flexible. probably not a ton of stamina and although he looks like he’s got the body for it he’s not that great at running. he’s just really fucking good at climbing and doing flips and shit. he’s always one of the last people out during dodgeball just bc he’s so good at dodging. he can move FAST.

53: WHAT CLUBS WOULD YOUR CHARACTER JOIN?

he probably wouldn’t join any clubs bc high school is around the time he started down the path of Bad Shit so he definitely wasn’t spending any time hanging around the school if he didn’t have to

54: WHAT IS THE SADDEST THING ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER’S LIFE?

he doesn’t realize that people are complicated and that good people are capable of and do bad things sometimes. he’s not a monster for the mistakes he made in the past. he’s genuinely good, he’s doing his best, and people love him and care about him and he needs to know that.

55: WOULD YOUR CHARACTER DO THE ICE BUCKET CHALLENGE?

hm, this question sure dates the original post... yeah he absolutely would. he likes doing dumb things like that, especially if they’re for a good cause. he’s a goof.

56: WHAT’S ONE OF YOUR CHARACTER’S QUIRKS?

he’s very fidgety. he doesn’t even notice it but he’s really not good at staying still

57: HOW WOULD YOUR CHARACTER FEEL ABOUT FEMINISM?

i think he wouldn’t understand the complexities of it, but in general he would absolutely be for it. inequality pisses him off.

58: IS YOUR CHARACTER DORKY OR MORE ATHLETIC?

he’s an absolute dork. 100%.

59: WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER?

a lot of the time i worry he’s too contrived and tragic or that i play him out of character or that he’s just like. way too dramatic in general.

60: IF YOU COULD TITLE YOUR CHARACTER’S LIFE, WHAT WOULD YOU TITLE IT?

The Good Boy: Please, Folks, He’s Doing His Best

#it speaks #alphonse #aldmerii #friend tag

[sensitivefern]

A NOTE TO AUTHORS

THE AIM OF THE Smart Set, in general, is to interest and amuse the more civilized and sophisticated sort of reader – the man or woman who has lived in large cities, and read good books, and seen good plays, and heard good music, and is tired of politicians, reformers and the newspapers. [...] Poetry? We print twenty to thirty poems every month, and a good many of them get into the anthologies. But don’t send us sentimental things of the Poet’s Corner variety; we are tired of odes to the meadow thrush, and war-songs arguing that the death of a soldier is a grief to his mother, and clumsy attempts at vers libre, and lyrics of amour in which ‘heart’ rhymes with ‘part’. [...] To Your Interest and for Our Convenience

Put your full name and address in the upper left-hand corner of the first page of your manuscript.

Enclose a fully stamped and self-addressed envelope.

See that your typist has ink on her ribbon. Faint manuscripts are very hard to read.

Don’t write unnecessary letters. Let your work speak for itself.

Send your manuscript by mail; don’t bring it!

If you send in a novelette, attach a brief summary of the plot, say in 250 words.

Don’t ask for letters of criticism. We are too busy to write them.

Don’t try to sell us anything until you have read two or three issues of the magazine from cover to cover, and so know something of our requirements.

[H.L. Mencken]

===

The people therefore demanded something new in Israel – a king. [...] In spite of the Lord’s assertion that Saul was perfect and would deliver Israel from the Philistines, he became insane and was killed by these Philistines. Such is the fate of every god when his work is done, including Saul. Because of a slight transgression ‘the Lord repented that he had made Saul king over Israel’ (15: 35), and an ‘evil spirit from God’ came upon him. These words are a sore perplexity to our deluded clergy. They cannot deny them, neither can they explain them away. That is because they are students of Divinity instead of Reality. The result is that ‘an evil spirit from God’ is upon them also; its name is priestly theology. Even after reading five books about an evil God, they cannot attribute evil to him. Well, Isaiah did, and reported this God as saying, ‘I create evil’. He is the involutionary evil for which Evolution must atone, and His work, Creation, the ‘sin’ for which man must suffer. concealing this fact from man is the priestly sin of the rest of the Bible.

[Deceptions and Myths of the Bible]

===

Not only can geophytes be propagated simply by dividing a crowded cluster of bulbs or corms, but more arcane, yet simple, methods also work. A single scale broken off a lily bulb has the potential to produce a whole new bulb. Slice and dice a daffodil from top to bottom, and as long as each fragment includes a bit of the basal plant and a smidgen of two scales, each piece can regenerate into a new bulb.

The easiest way to multiply geophytes is by division. Dig up an overgrown clump of daffodils or snowdrops, separate them one by one, and as many as 50 separate plants may result. Dig and divide after flowering while the leaves are yet green. Brent Heath of Brent and Becky’s Bulbs prefers to wait until the leaves begin to fade to yellow. (after all, he points out, you wouldn’t like it if someone took you dinner plate away). Remember that it is the foliage growth that nourished the geophyte for the following year’s performance.

[Bulbs for Garden Habitats]

===

striped cream violet | Viola striata Zone: 4 to 7... Easily grown in average, medium to wet, well-drained soils in part shade. Prefers moist, humusy soils. Does not spread by runners, but freely self-seeds... No serious insect or disease problems. Profuse self-seeding borders on being weedy in more formalized plantings... Mass in shaded areas of woodland gardens, wildflower gardens or native plant gardens... Viola labradorica × Viola striata → Viola ×‌eclipes H.E. Ballard is a very rare violet hybrid known from MA, RI. It is identified by its very pale blue corolla with a large white center and sparsely ciliate sepals (both character states are intermediate between the parents). It is further distinguished by its heavily fringed stipules, long sepal auricles, and abruptly acuminate leaf blades (in these traits the hybrid is more like V. striata).

===

➤Saw first ringnecked pheasant for x-number of years; south field; cat.

❚50 years ago, Kathrine Switzer became the first woman to enter the Boston Marathon. Today, she'll run it again.

Sylvia Moy, Motown pioneer who co-wrote numerous Stevie Wonder hits, has died at 78

North Korea Successfully Detonates Nuclear Scientist

Girls Lena Dunham show leaves as it arrived: with bravery, honesty and nudity The HBO sitcom has bowed out after six controversial, but undeniably influential, seasons. We look back on some of the highlights

HOW OXYGEN TRAVELS THROUGH YOUR SHITTY BODY

[operation-out]

“True love, the only magic strong enough to transcend realms.”

It seemed like poetry at first. A beautiful sentence, a statement about the elusive nature of love. Fit for a fairy tale. Magic strong enough to transcend realms. Vague, but pretty.

...until the realization hit there is something we call realms in our world. Realms of consciousness. Different states of awareness. Asleep, meditating, high, in trance, focused, dreaming. We have all been in different states. Some realms take us to different worlds. This isn’t something elusive at all. We have all experienced this, we know these different realms. It’s part of the human experience. We don’t always understand them, we wonder about their nature - but we know they’re very real.

When we took a look at Jung’s theories on the realms of consciousness - for Freud click here - things really started to click. Jung distinguishes three realms. Consciousness, the Personal Unconscious and the Collective Unconscious.

Consciousness

Consciousness is what we’re all most familiar with. It’s what we’re aware of, it’s the realm where we spend most of our time. It’s our day to day. It’s what you’re experiencing right now as you read this - at least I hope you are.

The Personal Unconscious

We’re all also pretty familiar with what Jung called the Personal Unconscious. It’s what we usually call our subconscious, everything that’s happening below the surface of our thinking. Our memories, our traumas, our secret desires are all part of our Personal Unconscious. It is tied in with who we are as people and what we have lived through.

The Collective Unconscious

The one that’s a little complicated and specific to Jung is the concept of the Collective Unconscious. Jung believes that during the evolution of human beings, we didn’t just physically evolve. He believes that there are clusters of meaning tied to symbols in our minds that are the same for every human being. He calls these concepts of the mind - these symbols - archetypes. 

We are probably most familiar with this concept from dream dictionaries. If our subconscious mind was limited to the Personal Unconscious, with everything in our minds tied only to our personal experiences, then dream dictionaries wouldn’t make any sense - except maybe in small communities with many shared experiences and values. So when you had another dream where you were falling, flying, losing your teeth or guided by a wolf - to name but a few - those could be expressions of the Collective Unconscious that - according to Jung - have a similar meaning for all people.

Interesting for us is that these archetypes in the Collective Unconscious are also linked to mythology and fairy tales. Myths and fairy stories resonate with us because they are a very pure expression of archetypes. Compare a fairy tale to a story in a novel. In your novel, usually you get to know your main character. You get their name, you learn about their past, the way they dress, the way they move. Meanwhile if you read a fairy tale, often you don’t learn the names of the characters. There is a young man, a princess, a king, a witch. We don’t learn about their pasts, we don’t know much about what they look like. The main focus is on how they interact with other characters. We follow their actions and we never really learn much about their personalities. Fairy tales are a lot like dreams where often we seem to jump from place to place and everyone we see and meet is symbolic. In fact, Marie-Louise von Franz, one of Jung’s students dedicated many years of research and books to analyzing the archetypes and the psychological meaning of fairy tales.

With the theory out of the way, let’s get to the juicy bits. What does all of that have to do with our characters? As it turns out... a lot.

The story starts not long before Emma crashes her car. From that point on she is cut off from conscious reality as we normally experience it. The world she is in is very real, but it isn’t the world of Consciousness. You could say for all of season one, she is stuck in the realm of her Personal Unconscious. How do we know she isn’t also connected to the Collective Unconscious, then? If it is something that is inside of all of us?

We may all have the potential to connect with the Collective Unconscious, but that doesn’t mean we are actively doing it. Emma scoffs at the idea of her not being ready for fairy tales. How could you not be ready for a bunch of stories? Emma is jaded. She has lived her entire life on high alert. Food stolen from her plate, people around her always ready to take from her, sometimes in very visceral ways. Emma hasn’t had the luxury of ever standing still and looking inside. She has grown up in survival mode. Henry brings the fairy tales, but he and the book represent so much more than that. He brings the guidelines for psychological and spiritual development that are hidden in fairy tales and myths. On the symbolic level, Henry represents the Collective Unconscious. Henry has the heart of the truest believer. It requires belief to acknowledge there may be something out there that is bigger than our Self. Something that could help guide us. Most of used to believe as children, but as life happens that connection is usually cut, with a firm line drawn between what is real and what is not. It is Jefferson who tries to point out how it may be a good idea to start questioning that line. 

Emma: History books are based on history. Jefferson: And storybooks are based on what? Imagination. Where does that come from? It has to come from somewhere.

First the link with history is drawn, the stories in the first season are all influenced by Emma’s personal history. Imagination doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It’s our personal experiences that find their way into fictional stories. Everyone who has ever written anything knows it’s impossible to take yourself out of it. In a sense stories are history books as well. The question where imagination comes from is a deeper one. And he doesn’t stop there.

Jefferson: You know what the issue is with this world? Everyone wants some magical solution for their problem and everyone refuses to believe in magic.

This is again a reference to belief and to the dreams, signs, hunches, stories and the myths containing answers to our questions about life. As long as we are not taking them seriously, as long as we see them as nothing more than escapism we don’t allow for the magic to happen in our life. We need to allow for their meaning and wisdom to enter and impact us.

As this conversation happens, the Enchanted Forest and Storybrooke are still two separate worlds and it really gets to the heart of why Emma isn’t accepting the fairy tales are real - even after seeing so many magical things happen. It challenges her world view on the deepest of levels. The question we are being asked as an audience is if we are really that different from Emma?

Emma’s Personal Unconscious is still driving the stories at that point. She isn’t aware that she has stepped away from Consciousness, but curiously everything that happens to the Storybrooke characters relates to her own past. Henry is most likely reading the fairy tales from his book, so while the fairy tales are present, they are not integrated yet. Emma is resisting, even if the classic fairy tales are already being warped by her own experiences.

Finally at the end of the first season, we are clearly shown how True Love literally transcends realms. It’s not just poetry. It has meaning. Emma’s love for Henry makes that she recognizes and accepts that if she wants to be his mother, she will need to accept the guidance of the ancient stories to survive emotionally - and physically. Emma kisses Henry and the Personal Unconscious connects with the Collective Unconscious. The connection gives her the tools to start learning and healing because in the fairy tales and the myths lies the wisdom of the ages and she is now directly connecting her personal stories to the guidance of a greater force. Snow White & Prince Charming become her chosen mythological parents to guide her in this land.

As soon as the realms are connected, magic is brought to Storybrooke and the fairy tale world merges with our world. This is really the moment where Emma accepts her Hero’s journey using the archetypes in the stories she knows and the ones in the fairy tales being read to her, in order to work through her own past and present.

After Henry and Emma form their alliance, Regina is shown to go through a very lonely time. She is completely isolated. Regina represents Consciousness and she isn’t allowed to play yet as the Personal Unconscious and the Collective Unconscious explore their new connection. The brain damage Emma suffered is still preventing her from going back to Consciousness...

...even if Consciousness is really trying to tempt her. A lesser known interpretation of the story of the Garden of Eden and the Forbidden Fruit is that the fruit represents - you guessed it - Consciousness. The beginning of consciousness in the human race. It is something I want to get into in another post, because it would lead us too far astray, but the apple in the second episode is an invitation for Emma to wake up. Regina brings an entire basket of them. She really, really wants Emma to come back to Consciousness.

Just like Emma Regina is jaded. She’s lost too many people in her life and she is completely rooted in a harsh cold version of reality. She doesn’t want Henry to believe in fairy tales because she wants to minimize the shock that comes when you’re first confronted with the cruelty of life. She doesn’t have any hope for Emma and she wants to do everything to keep her son from becoming attached to a woman whom she is certain will never wake up. On top of that she is completely repressed. She’s a conservative Mayor in a small town who spent her entire life living up to other people’s expectations. She’s not only cut off from the Collective Unconsciousness, she’s also not in touch with her own Personal Consciousness. She doesn’t know who she really is without all these forces pulling at her.

When finally it is Henry who takes a bite from the apple turnover she gives to Emma, it turns out to be lethal. Henry is the Collective Unconscious directly connecting with Consciousness and it almost kills him. Henry is a little boy and you could say that this is literally him taking a bite of reality. The apple has two entirely different meanings depending on if Emma or Henry eats it. If Emma had eaten it, she would have come back to reality. And Regina only meant it for her. It wasn’t meant to kill. Now if Emma refuses to wake, it is Henry who will be confronted with death, with reality for the first time in a very harsh and painful way. Not only will he lose his birth mother, he will feel responsible for it for the rest of his life because without his intervention in her life, she might have lived. The psychological stakes for Henry in this moment are very high. Emma’s death would have killed him. So at this point if Emma doesn’t eat the the apple of Consciousness but dies instead, Henry will be forced to do so. 

When Regina and Henry finally share True Love’s Kiss, it marks an incredible evolution in Regina and Henry. True Love transcends another realm, this time Consciousness and the Collective Unconscious do connect. Instead of the harsh reality check he would have gotten if Emma had died, Henry has had time to start seeing the gray in the black and the white. Emma fought like hell to stay alive for him and Regina decided for Henry’s sake to keep Emma from dying. Even if she didn’t believe Emma would wake up and even though there were consequences for her Henry was too young to understand. It is thanks to the fight both of his mothers put up that he didn’t get a rude awakening.

Where Emma and Henry’s kiss was immediately followed by magic coming to town, this new kiss is followed by Regina committing an act of faith. A willingness to believe that things might work out in spite of all the experiences to the contrary she’s had.

We see her helping Snow and Charming share a heart, something she has no idea will work. In her reality, this is most likely the moment where she arranges for her and Emma to share custody over Henry to save Emma’s life and keep her unlikely family together.

She isn’t even sure if the legal construction will work and she is now legally sharing her son with a woman in a vegetative state. She is willing to take a risk again and that’s something you simply don’t do if there isn’t a small part of you that has regained hope.

Where before Emma and Regina sporadically made contact, now they both have access to the Collective Unconscious. We’ve seen what that meant from Emma’s perspective as we’ve seen them grow closer, but it’s interesting to take a look at what that looked like for Regina. Now that she dares to hope again, she decides to look into different approaches for Emma’s treatment. When we first started research about comatose patients for the purpose of this blog, we found site after site with statements by doctors that communication with coma patients was simply not possible. Any responses were purely meaningless spasms. That is still the prevalent medical opinion. That would have been the same message Regina would have gotten. That Emma’s condition was pretty hopeless, that she wasn’t a person anymore. That she wasn’t really there.

However, it seemed like in the third episode, through Mary Margaret and David, they gave us a summary and foreshadowing of how Emma communicates. She responds to the stories and she reaches out to touch. After a long search, we finally found two psychologists who took a different approach to people in a coma. Amy and Arnold Mindell have been working with people in near-comatose states since the seventies. Their work is called process-oriented psychology. Curiously - and we only found this out much later - Arnold Mindell was a student of Marie-Louise von Franz - we mentioned her earlier - who applied Jungian psychology to fairy tales and who herself was a student of Jung. 

The difference between their approach and the prevalent medical approach is that they believe comatose patients can communicate. The very assumption that someone in a different state of consciousness can’t communicate has as a result that people generally don’t even try. Research in the exact sciences has started to back up their claims when a few years ago scientist managed to prove comatose patients could answer yes/no questions. What makes it even more interesting for us is that they found out that people in a coma actually inhabit this symbolic world just like Emma. They have developed a technique where they mimic breathing, touch, imitate sounds, look for little signs and eye movements, twitches in order to start communicating. 

So let’s check back in with Regina for a second. She may have connected with the Collective Unconscious, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t still skeptical at first. The difference is that she is willing to try this new method.

Coma work is slow. Some websites describe the coma worker just breathing in the same rhythm as the patient for 20 minutes before a connection is made, before a response is registered. It looks like the stake out may have been that very first session with someone teaching her how to start communicating with Emma. Regina isn’t the most patient person...

...and she’s trying really hard to give this thing a chance...

...for about 20 seconds.

Despite her initial reservations, she doesn’t give up and continues to talk to Emma. It’s why the hand touches between them are maybe more important and more intimate than anything, because they’re doing something that most people don’t even believe is possible.

Depending on the state Emma is in - states of consciousness fluctuate and in some cases patients can sometimes even utter some words - Regina and Henry can start to find out more about the world Emma is in. Regina and Henry’s True Love’s Kiss opened Regina up to the Collective Unconscious - it was the start of the process where in the end she was able to completely go there with Emma. While she can’t literally see what Emma sees, she understands the significance of her world. She takes it seriously and she has some idea of what is going on.

When patients are coming out of their vegetative state and moving towards consciousness - like Emma is currently doing - part of the therapy is role playing their world with them based on their cues and responses.

That is what is happening in the wishverse. Regina wished to be in Emma’s world, so she is trying to do exactly that. Emma is seeing and hearing real Regina. If you watch the episode again with this in mind, it’s very clear. She seems amused, a little self-conscious, but she is not holding back. She is also completely convinced the danger in the wishverse is not real and she’s acting as such.

When Emma thanks Regina for coming to this crazy land to save her, she isn’t just talking about the wishverse, she is talking about the entire process Regina had to go through to get there. She had to fight the medical establishment, probably deal with people who didn’t believe what she was doing with Emma was real and significant. She had to invest her time and probably her money as well. Although the biggest sacrifice of all must have been that she opened up her heart again after losing Daniel in similar circumstances. She went ahead even though it brought back memories and she took the risk of caring again. Knowing that she is the kind of person who goes all in.

Emma is moving closer and closer to consciousness. Regina is slowly allowing herself to feel and connect with the personal unconscious. Henry is ready for his fairy tale family.

Time for true love to work its magic and transcend realms once more.

#swan queen #operationOUT #operation OUT #dumb positivity #swan mills family #ouat meta #sq meta #ouat #once upon a time #sq theories #ouat theories #ouat speculation #long post #opOUTMiniMeta

[stevepotterwrites]

A GLORIOUS THOUGHT EXCURSION: On John Olson’s Novel In Advance of the Broken Justy

https://bookshop.org/a/8227/9781935835172

John Olson's thoughtful and often humorous new novel, In Advance of the Broken Justy, opens with a somewhat Kafkaesque quest to find medical attention for the narrator's wife's infected eye late at night in Paris during a doctor's strike and ends on January 8th, 2015 with news of the previous day's terrorist attack on the Charlie Hebdo offices playing on the television in their hotel room as they prepare to leave for home.

In the pages between the personal crisis and the international one, we are introduced to the oddball mix of neighbors in the narrator's thin-walled building who are driving him and his wife, Ronnie, crazy with noise from construction projects, stomping feet, and rather explicitly audible sounds of digestive functions from a neighboring bathroom. Noisy neighbors are enough to drive any introverted, bookish homebody nuts, but our unnamed protagonist tells us, during a seemingly obsessive and often hilariously aggrieved section of narration reminiscent of Thomas Bernhard, that he additionally suffers from hyperacusia — a heightened sensitivity to noise, and tinnitus — ringing in the ears, as well as Generalized Anxiety Disorder for which he has been prescribed a variety of antidepressants through the years.

It's not only their immediate living situation that is cause for aggravation, the couple are also dealing more generally with a growing dissatisfaction with life in rapidly-changing Seattle. Olson writes that his dislike of Seattle, “evolved over a period of time, like an allergy that starts out with a minor rash and then grows into strange secretions and the constant application of topical ointments.” As their disaffection with Seattle grows, so does their love of Paris. “...we each felt an attachment that had become deeply emotional, like a drug. We had become addicted to this city. It inhabited us, as Ronnie put it.”

The love of Paris among certain artistically-inclined Americans has a longstanding literary and cinematic history, of course. Mr. Olson's novel continues a lineage tracing back at least as far as Ernest Hemingway's A Movable Feast and F. Scott Fitzgerald's “Babylon Revisited” through Richard Yates's Revolutionary Road to Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris. Unlike Gil Pender, the protagonist of Mr. Allen's film, who is mostly enthralled with fantasies of Cole Porter, Hemingway, the Fitzgeralds, Gertrude Stein and other American ex-pats in Paris during the Jazz Age, Olson's two protagonists are most interested in actual French poets, writers and artists such as; Rimbaud, Georges Perec, Michel Tournier, Gaston Bachelard, Raymond Queneau and Pierre Michon. And while their yearning for Paris is similar to that of the couple at the center of Revolutionary Road, it is a rather more grown-up and grounded love of the City of Lights. Olson's protagonists are a pair of older, working-class poets not young, upper-middle-class, suburban dilettantes like Yates's Frank and April Wheeler.

In addition to their dissatisfaction with home and city, the couple are also dealing with the loss of their beloved car, the broken Subaru Justy of the novel's title. After attempting to adapt to a car-less life, including several comic misadventures with public transit and Car2Go, the narrator takes some money out of savings to buy another used Subaru but somewhat spontaneously decides he'd rather take a trip to Paris than own a car again. Ronnie agrees. Plans are made, tickets are purchased, and their ongoing study of French is kicked into a higher gear. Away they go.

The narrator alludes to dark and outrageous moments in his past, back when he was still drinking and taking drugs. “At the age of eighteen, I left my father's house and struck out for California, following the scent of sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. I was into Dylan and the Rolling Stones. I liked the Beatles, but they remained a bit too wholesome for my rebel-without-a-cause setup. And after reading Aldous Huxley's seminal essay, The Doors of Perception, I had a raging desire to experiment with psychedelic drugs.”

He tells briefly of getting beaten up at a New Years Eve party in Burien, attending Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, and three failed marriages. One suspects Olson could write some fine fiction of wild times, drunkenness, heartache and despair in a Kerouacian or Carveresque vein if he felt the urge to mine his past, but part of what I love about this novel is that it doesn't do that. The image of the artist as a young wild man is a popular one and there have certainly been more than enough misbehaving poets, musicians, painters, novelists and so forth to give that cliché some weight, but what makes an artist an artist is serious, longstanding dedication to one's art. It's refreshing to read a novel that dispenses with the youthful misbehavior in a few short sentences and instead depicts the couple at its center as actual grown-up artists.

In Advance of the Broken Justy is not a novel which glorifies the wild kicks of youth or wallows in the despair of drunkenness and divorce, but rather one which celebrates more mature, quiet kicks like the contemplation of works of art in the Musée d'Orsay, the Louvre, and the Georges Pompidou Centre. It is a celebration of bookstores not barrooms. The narrator and Ronnie go on a sort of literary safari, with guidance provided by a list of the best bookstores in Paris received via email from the French poet Claude Royet-Journoud, and enjoy a cafe visit with the poet and translator Michel Deguy.

“One of the main reasons I wanted to go to Paris was so I could stand in a real bookstore once again before I die,” Olson writes. “The bookstores in the United States have deteriorated into something little better than a gift shop, or those book and magazine shops you sometimes see at the airport. Trashy titles. Nothing of any real interest.” He's not grown so jaded that he's lost all perspective, however, and can still see quality on those rare occasions it may be found. He goes on later in that passage to praise Elliott Bay Books and Open Books and elsewhere declares Magus Books in the University District to be one of the best, if not the best, used bookstores he's ever been to.

While at certain points it's clear that the author's imagination is at play, much of In Advance of the Broken Justy reads close to straight autobiography. That, of course, does not necessarily mean that it is, but the pleasures of reading the novel, for me, were often more akin to those of nonfiction. David Shields, among others, would argue that the distinction between fiction and nonfiction is meaningless. Whiile there is some validity to that stance in that in either case the author is working with a blend of memory and imagination, I think it is a bit of an overstatement. Phillip Lopate writes in a section of To Show and To Tell: The Craft of Literary Nonfiction in which he compares and contrasts the tendencies of nonfiction versus those of fiction that, “What makes me want to keep reading a nonfiction text is the encounter with a surprising, well-stocked mind as it takes on the challenge of the next sentence, paragraph, and thematic problem it has set for itself.... None of these examples read like short stories or screenplays; they read like what they are: glorious thought excursions.”

It is Olson's surprising, well-stocked mind which is of the greatest interest here, the consciousness which regards what happens more so than the particulars of what happens, that takes interesting digressions into considerations of the work of Bob Dylan, Marcel Duchamp, Georges Braque, and organic chemist August Kekulé among others. Of the other books I've read recently, it is Patti Smith's second memoir, M Train, I find it most similar to in both tone and content. Smith, the poet-rocker legend, and Olson, the poet's poet who can count luminaries such as Michael McClure, Clayton Eshleman and the late, great Philip Lamantia among his fans, are exact contemporaries, Ms. Smith being the elder by only a matter of months. Their influences overlap to a considerable degree. Both books weave together narratives of domesticity and travel. Both books present the day-to-day lives of practicing artists and consider the lives of their artistic influences. Both books recount journeys to literary sacred ground in search of a sort of spiritual contact high with forebears and idols.

Mr. Lopate's phrase, “glorious thought excursions,” seems like the perfect description of much of Olson's output. Fans of his prose poetry will find moments replete with the reeling riffs of surrealistic, hallucinatory lyricism familiar from his books such as Oxbow Kazoo, Echo Regime, Logo Lagoon and Eggs & Mirrors in the pages of In Advance of the Broken Justy. Preparations for the sale of their 500 square foot condo and a move away from their infuriatingly noisy building (preparations for naught, as it turns out, for neither sale nor move ever transpire within the pages of the novel) instigates a stream of thoughts on the nature of reality leading eventually to the following passage:  

“When consciousness meets reality the result is milk. Traffic lights blossom into prayer wheels. Laundry folds itself into armies of tide pool angst and marches around like generalities of floral chambray. Rain falls up instead of down. The acceptance of frogs liberates bubbles of pulp. Time sags with basement ping pong tournaments. Garrets ovulate glass bagatelles. Realism percolates prizefight sweat. Details sparkle like crawling kingsnakes in the mouth of a Mississippi attorney.”

In Advance of the Broken Justy is a thoughtful, grown-up novel for the sort of thoughtful, grown-up readers who seek out real bookstores and is not likely to have much appeal to fans of those trashy, escapist titles found in the sad, little book and magazine shops in airports Olson derides.  

Review by Steve Potter. Previously appeared in A Screw in the Shoe from Golden Handcuffs Review Publications. 

#book review #john olson #in advance of the broken justy #contemporary fiction #paris #seattle

[filtration-products]

The Purpose of Digressions in Beowulf

Few other features are more characteristic of Beowulf than the use of numerous digressions and distinct episodes. While some scholars have made attempts to show that the digressions, or some of them at least, have something in them which is inappropriate to the main narrative and are detrimental to the poetic value of Beowulf, this essay will argue that the digressions and episodes provide a conscious balance and unity and, in fact, contribute to the artistic value of the poem. Beowulf scholar Adrien Bonjour divides the digressions and episodes into four categories: the Scyld episode; digressions concerning Beowulf and the Geats; historical or legendary digressions not connected with Beowulf and the Geats; and Biblical digressions. It is within this structure where we will explore specific digressions and determine their role in the poem.

Before we inspect specific digressions, it is important to provide a brief justification for their presence in general. As Bonjour observes, the poet adeptly uses digressions to add to the coloring of the poem, to serve as a foil to a given situation, to contribute to the historical interest and significance, to provide symbolic value which contributes to the effect and understanding of the poem, and to heighten artistic effect. In addition, the digressions contain welcome information about the hero’s life. It is through digressing that the poet presents the values and perspectives that are to be understood. Action is, after all, only action.

In his division of the digressions and episodes, Bonjour gives the Scyld episode its own category, probably because it is the longest digression from the main narrative in the poem, and possibly because it raises so many questions. At first glance, the opening of the poem with Scyld and the genealogy of the Danish kings seems strangely out of place in a poem about Beowulf, a Geatish hero. But upon further study, a significant parallelism can be found between Scyld and Beowulf. First, both Scyld and Beowulf came miraculously to liberate the Danes. Scyld, being the first liberator in the poem, foreshadows Beowulf who comes later. A second touch of parallelism between the two kings can be found in their inglorious youth. Scyld was found a wretched and abandoned child and Beowulf is conspicuous for his inglorious youth. The striking reversal in their fortunes is clearly stressed by the poet.

Bonjour points out that another artistic purpose in this episode is the glorification of the Scyldings. Had the distressing condition at Heorot served as the only introduction to Beowulf’s mission, this may have created an impression of weakness on the part of the Danes. As we will see later, if the Danes had not been glorified at the beginning of the poem, the greatness of Beowulf may have been diminished.

Finally, the striking contrast of the funeral scenes are endowed with a “symbolic value which heightens the artistic value” and the unity of the entire poem. The beautiful description of Scyld’s funeral suggests a beginning and is the symbol of a glorious future. In contrast, Beowulf’s funeral symbolizes the end of a glorious past while the future is fraught with foreboding.

The Scyld episode allows the poet the use of two of his favorite devices: parallelism and contrast. The contrast between Scyld and Beowulf is perhaps one of the finest artistic achievements in the poem, and the parallelism between the two kings may well be summed up in the legendary epitaph of a cowboy as indicated by J.D.A. Ogilvy and Donald Baker: “Here lies Bronco Bill. He always done his damnedest”.

The next of Bonjour’s categorical divisions regards the digressions concerning Beowulf and the Geats. The first of this group that we will examine is Beowulf’s fight against giants. This digression serves a twofold purpose: it allows the hero his convention of boasting, and it also, however subtly, allies the hero with God. The immediate purpose of this mention of a glorious feat in Beowulf’s early life is to give us an illustration of his uncommon strength, and to give at the same time a justification for his arrival at the Danish court. It also sets Beowulf up as a specialist in fighting monsters: “I came from the fight where I had bound five, destroyed a family of giants…”. The art of boasting is important in an epic hero as it showcases his accomplishments and glorifies his name. As Victor Bromberg denotes, a man’s name is very important in epic poetry because it becomes equal to the sum of his accomplishments.

The second function of this digression is to surreptitiously ally Beowulf with God. When Beowulf pits his strength against the giants, he is unwittingly allying himself with the true God of Christianity. This lends dignity to the heathen hero who, without knowing it, is fighting on the right side after all.

In the Ecgtheow digression we learn that Beowulf’s father has killed Heatholaf, a member of the powerful Wilfing tribe, and has begun a feud from whose consequences the Geats cannot protect him, and he has fled to the court of Hrothgar. Hrothgar, consequently, pays his wergild to the Wilfings. Bonjour asserts that this digression serves two purposes: first, it creates one more bond between Beowulf and the Danes; second, it counterbalances the fact that the Danes are accepting help from Beowulf.

The Unferth episode serves primarily as a foil to emphasize Beowulf’s greatness. In spite of the sinister overtones of Unferth’s reputation, the poet also shows him as a distinguished thane. Had Unferth been reduced to a mere swashbuckler, Beowulf’s superiority over him would not have meant so much as it actually does. In his essay “Beowulf: The monsters and the Critics”, Professor J.R.R. Tolkien suggests that Beowulf’s conquest of the nicors in his youth are referred to [in this digression] as a presage to the kind of hero we are dealing with. Beowulf’s answer to Unferth’s criticism also establishes him as a man to reckon with in words as well as with his sword. So, from this digression we learn Beowulf’s qualifications for cleansing Heorot, and also that the hero is not only a great warrior, but a man capable of delivering a coup de grâce in a battle of wits.

Bonjour notes that the first allusion in the poem to the fall of Hygelac gives us a fine instance of a particular use of contrast characteristic of Beowulf. It is ironic that the first hint of Hygelac’s fall should be called up by the description of the treasures given to Beowulf by Queen Wealtheow after Beowulf’s victory over Grendel. It looks as if there are already some implications of the same nature as those to be met with in the Dragon story where, as Bonjour remarks, the beauty of the treasure of the Dragon’s hoard stands out in contrast to the curse attached to it. Here, the necklace is among “[the finest] under the heavens”, yet Hygelac had it when he was slain.

Next, we will look at the digression on Beowulf’s inglorious youth and Heremod’s tragedy in conjuntion with one another. Heremod’s tragedy actually falls outside the structure proposed by Adrien Bonjour as it has nothing to do with Beowulf and the Geats directly. However, we will bring the Heremod digression out of the proposed structure since it provides such an important contrast to Beowulf’s inglorious youth.

The short digression on Beowulf’s inglorious youth is but another touch that contributes to the glorification of the hero. The inglorious youth heightens the effect of his later glorious deeds and makes them all the more remarkable by way of contrast. But this digression reaches its full effect when contrasted with the tragedy of Heremod. In Hrothgar’s speech to Beowulf, we learn that Heremod was a strong, valiant hero whose career showed great promise, but that he subsequently proved to be a bad ruler. Beowulf, on the other hand, is first despised but he has now grown into a glorious hero. Heremod’s tragedy redefines, though negatively, what a good king should be. Thus we have a poor beginning (by Beowulf) followed by a prodigious ascent contrasted with a brilliant promise (by Heremod) ending in a miserable downfall.

The next digression to be examined concerns Hygelac’s death in Friesland and Beowulf’s return by swimming and his subsequent guardianship of Heardred. The poet tells us how Beowulf escapes from Friesland, where Hygelac is slain, by swimming back to his country with thirty to panoplies of armour on his arm. Obviously, this part of the digression serves to further glorify Beowulf’s extraordinary abilities. Later, we learn that Beowulf turns down Queen Hygd’s offer of the Geatish throne in favor of acting as counsel to Heardred, the rightful heir. Beowulf’s refusal of the crown illustrates his moral greatness. Here, the Geats present a striking contrast to the Danes. Ogilvy and Baker suggest that unlike Wealtheow, who is obsessed with securing the succession of her sons to the throne, Hygd asks Beowulf to take the throne in favor of her own son for the good of the people. This contrast is made even greater when compared to the situation at the Danish court where Hrothulf seizes his uncle’s throne. The story of the Danish succession serves as a foil: on the one side we have a treacherous usurpation, and on the other, a refusal to accept the crown out of sheer loyalty. Along with the glorification of Beowulf, this digression brings the theme of loyalty to the forefront.

In seeking the Dragon’s den, Beowulf makes a long speech in which he looks back over his life from the time when, at the age of seven, he came to the court of his grandfather, King Hrethel. The immediate purpose of Beowulf’s long speech appears to be a pause so that the hero can gather strength and resolution by looking back over a life of valiant deeds. But this digression goes much deeper when we read into King Hrethel’s angst over his eldest son, Herebeald, who is accidentally slain by his brother Hæthcyn. The accidental killing suggests the inexorability of wyrd (fate), and on the other hand, the poignant lament of Hrethel prepares the dominant mood of the end of the poem (Bonjour 34). This thematic “Christian” acceptance of earthly woes anticipates the rationale of Beowulf’s actions. He, too, will accept his fate. Bonjour states that the appearance of wyrd here is of great importance as it gives us the keynote of not only the digression, but of the whole ending of the poem.

The Last Survivor’s Speech is an elegy cut from the same cloth: “Baleful death has sent away many races of men”. Tolkien states that here, the poet is handling an ancient theme: that man, each man and all men, and all their works shall die.

In the short digression on Weohstan (Wiglaf’s father) and his slaying of Eanmund, we learn of the history of Wiglaf’s sword. The primary purpose of this digression is to give us something of Wiglaf’s pedigree, and to establish that Wiglaf is not ordinary, he is of the same blood as Beowulf. The establishing of Wiglaf’s history is important, because if this part were played by any other Geat, Beowulf’s heroic courage would appear to have been matched by an ordinary human. Also, there is a definite parallel between Wiglaf’s loyalty to Beowulf, and Beowulf’s loyalty to Hygelac.

The last digression that we will look at in this division deals again with Hygelac’s fall and the battle at Ravenswood. Since Hygelac’s raid, the enmity between Franks and Geats has remained. The Swedes are not to be trusted either since Beowulf’s death is likely to rekindle their memory of the feud between them and the Geats. With the opening of this last digression, Bonjour observes that the poet allows us to catch a glimpse of what the future has in store for the Geats. Plainly, the author is using Wiglaf’s messenger as a means to foreshadow the fate that awaits the Geatish nation.

The third category of digressions concerns historical or legendary digressions not directly connected with Beowulf and the Geats. The first digression in this category concerns the fate of Heorot. No sooner has the poet described the glorious building of Heorot than he concludes, “it would wait for the fierce flames of vengeful fire”. The allusion is to the feud between Ingeld and Hrothgar. This illustrates another example of the poet telling his story with a kind of structural irony which alternates prosperous with tragic events. Here, William Alfred remarks that Hrothgar is set up as the heroic king of a loyal comitatus, but suddenly, what begins as a description of the impressive halls of Heorot breaks down into an account of its destruction by fire in a feud. On this point, Bonjour mentions that the contrast inherent between a harmonious situation and a brief intimation of disaster adds to the impression of melancholy in which so much of the poem is steeped.

After Beowulf has killed Grendel, a scop improvises a lay in honor of Beowulf and compares him to Sigemund and Heremod. Sigemund was a great slayer of monsters and the greatest adventurer since the unfortunate Heremod. Beowulf, they say, is comparable to Sigemund. Sigemund and Heremod are inroduced to give us a standard of comparison for Beowulf. Bonjour surmises that this whole digression is certainly intended to praise the hero.

The next digression we will examine begins abruptly as Beowulf is returning home from Hrothgar’s court. We are given a description of Hygelac’s court before Beowulf’s arrival, and here begins the digression. The passage is devoted to a comparison between Hygd, Hygelac’s queen, and Modthryth, queen of Offa, king of the Angles before their migration to England. At first glance, Modthryth may seem, like Heremod, to be merely a bad character introduced to heighten the virtues of a good one (Hygd) by contrast. Modthryth, however, is more complex than that. She begins as a cruel and tyrannous princess, but redeems herself once on the Anglican throne at Offa’s side. This opposition provides a connecting link between this episode and Heremod’s tragedy. However, the respective careers of Heremod and Modthryth run exactly opposite courses. This digression serves several purposes: Modthryth serves as a foil to Hygd; the connection to Heremod again stresses the “abuse of power” theme, and Modthryth’s beginning could also be viewed as a parallel to Beowulf’s inglorious youth; an unsavory beginning which blossoms into a glorious end.

We will examine the Finn and Ingeld episodes together since the parallelism between the two is unmistakable. The Finn episode is an account of a blood-feud between the Danes and the Frisians. Hnæf’s sister, Hildeburh is a Danish princess who was married to King Finn of the Frisians in order to bring an end to the feud. The peace, however, is short-lived and the Finn episode points directly to the theme of the precarious truce between the two peoples. The prophetic telling of the tale of Ingeld by Beowulf suggests that the martial alliance between the Danish princess, Freawaru, and Ingeld, prince of the Heathobards will yield similar results. Bonjour claims that the central theme of the two episodes is exactly the same, that tribal enmity sooner or later sweeps away all attempts at human compromise. Indeed, this also proves to be a central theme of the entire poem.

The final category in which to make note is the digressions of Biblical character. Owing to their Christian element, the Song of Creation as well as the allusion to the Giants’ war against God and the allusions to Cain all take a front row seat.

The Song of Creation appears almost simultaneously with the introduction of Grendel, “There he spoke who could relate the beginning of men far back in time, said that the Almighty made earth…”. The Song of Creation goes back to the Biblical account in Genesis. Its immediate purpose is clear enough-it is a matter of contrast. The rare note of joy in the beauty of nature contrasts deeply with the melancholy inspired by the dreary abode of Grendel.

We will now look at the allusions to Cain and the Giants, and in doing so, it is important to note that the monsters are presented from two points of view. To the pagan characters, these creatures are eotenas [giants], and scuccan [evil spirits]-all terms from Germanic demonology. But the poet in his own voice tells us of the true genealogy of the Grendelkin: they are the monstrous descendents of Cain. This two-leveled portrayal of the monsters places them on one level like the dragon that Sigemund slew, and on another level it has connotations of Satanic evil which the Bible invests in them. At this point, new Scripture and old tradition unite.

The destruction of the Giants is said to be carved on the hilt of the magic sword which allows Beowulf to slay Grendel’s mother. Beowulf’s fight is now felt to partake of the struggle between the powers of good and evil. We were told earlier that both monsters were of the same kind as the Giants, but as Bonjour shows, we now know that God himself actually helps the hero by directing his attention to the magic sword which depicted God’s own action against the accursed race. Now, it is almost as if Beowulf has been raised to the rank of God’s own champion. Beowulf, for all that he moves in the world of the primitive Heroic Age, nevertheless is [for a moment] almost a Christian knight.

Bonjour concludes that Beowulf, once in the position of a king actually transcends the picure of an ideal king by sacrificing his life for his people, the significance of which is stressed by the very contrast with Hrothgar’s own attitude towards Grendel. But Hrothgar is already the figure of an ideal king, so now it becomes easier to compare Beowulf to the Savior, the self-sacrificing king, the prototype of supreme perfection.

Scholar B.J. Timmer sees the form of the poem as a failure because of the poet’s compromise in an attempt to glorify both pagan and Christian elements. John Leyerle echos this view when he describes the theme of the poem as “the fatal contradiction at the core of heroic society” in which the impelling code demands for the hero individual achievement and glory, whereas society demands a king who achieves for the common good. But why should there be a necessary separation here? Would it not require a heroic individual to achieve for the common good? The Beowulf poet, rightly, does not perform this separation.

In conclusion, it should be stated that whether or not we admire the digressions, we should recognize that they are part of the poet’s method, not the results of ineptitude. Here, I agree with Bonjour that the links of the digressions and episodes to the main story are extremely varied but, as we have seen, they are all links of relevance that weave the main theme and its background into an elaborate tapestry. Theodore M. Anderson sums up the significance of the digressions when he writes:

The poet drew his settings from the scenic repertory of the older heroic lay, but he strung the traditional scenes together with a moralizing commentary in the form of digressions, flashbacks, boasts, reflective speeches, and a persistent emphasis on unexpected reversals-all tending to underscore the peaks and valleys of human experience.

A good dose of common sense should expel any lingering beliefs, on the part of skeptics, that the poet’s digressions are reckless or that they diminish the value of the poem. As we have seen in this essay, there are simply too many instances of foreshadowing, careful contrast, and parallelism for the digressions to have been carelessly thrown into the mix. So, we shall draw the conclusion that behind all the digressions is found a definite artistic design clear enough to allow us to agree with Bonjour that each one plays a useful part in the poem. In other words, we have found that all of the digressions, in varying degrees, are artistically justified.

Outlining www. Filtration-Products.com: Filtration Products webpage assembles the latest stories, highlights and filter equipment right from the treatment industry. Filtration-Products.com keeps you up on purification and all the major market items including string wound elements, pleated filtration, meltblown filtration, sock filters, reverse osmosis filtration, from brands such as Mahle appropriate for water filtration, and anything else the filter arena has to notify.

from Filtration Products https://ift.tt/2EgNPdP

#Filtration Products