#marvel verse > a heart of steel starts to grow

[patchworkpoett]

ANSWERED     //     from LOKI   >>   @sviker​​

send me a 🌼 and my muse will do something nice for yours !

VIN IS A PSYCHIC. This is personal information that he had not allowed to anyone else, in the interest of not getting, for example, snatched up by some team of heroes like the Avengers. That bit of foresight had not been supernatural - but he's thankful he had it when the heroes do arrive. He doesn't have time to be a hero - he's got kids at home.

However, he is still a psychic. He can feel the history of certain objects through touch, and sometimes he sees the history of people, too. His visions of the future are few, and muddled - vague. Visions of the present are unfamiliar to him.

When he sees the god, he knows him.

It his not his face he is familiar with, for indeed he is grown, much older than Vin had ever seen him.

No, Vin had met Loki as a child, when he was one too. He had met him time and time again in dreams, though Vin saw him, but Loki did not seem share his sight.

(The one time he had been seen, even through whatever veil of magic held him, was by Loki's mother - he is thankful he was a child, or he's sure he would have been in much more danger. As it was, she had merely smiled at him, and thereby terrified him out of his wits. )

Vin's own mother had been a psychic too, and his connection with the Gods of Asgard was such that Bayarmaa had named him Divinity, which is a ridiculous name, but he cannot deny it here and now, for somehow, out of all the possibilities of the world, the god Loki had ended up here, on Vin's doorstep. In his backyard, rather. Wounded.

Vin does not expect he'll be able to hold of whatever government force will arrive here for long, nor does he know how to heal an injured Asgardian.

He knows who can.

"Ori!" he calls, back towards the house, allowing urgency to bleed into his voice. "NOW."

He does what he can to stop the bleeding until his daughter arrives, wondering if he should be worried what Loki will do when he is conscious. Ori is powerful - along with her healing powers, she'd been blessed with the ability to control plants, and he'd taught her self defense himself. She arrives quickly, and catches on to the situation with ease.

"Heal him. Be wary," He kisses her head as his brave, intelligent girl does exactly as she's told, not questioning anything as he runs in the other direction, exiting out the front of the house and waiting for the cars to arrive.

When they do, he can only think of one possible way he might get out of this.

He points, in the wrong direction.

"He went that way," He says, hoarse, as if he'd been in some sort of altercation, and maybe divinity is on his side, for the man who exited the car gives him a glance, and directs the cars to where he pointed, believing him.

He has won precious little time, he knows, and he knows the single man approaching him will want to check his house anyway, but maybe, maybe, he can get the kid from his dreams up and out of here before they can find him.

#(( i do not know the reasoning behind this ur honor i just needed a reason for vin to be nice to loki )) #(( and i like how the story of vin's name aligns so well with asgardians )) #(( ''you were destined to be one with gods''' his mom says and then loki or thor walks in xD )) #(( i just can't write a starter under six paragraphs can i )) #ic. #character; divinity > do not stand at my grave and weep #ic; divinity #marvel verse > a heart of steel starts to grow #foster dad verse; divinity > no matter how small #sviker #friends [divinity] > loki/sviker

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #474

Top Ten Characters Who Came Back from the Dead

I am stunned – stunned! – that I’ve not done this one before. I mean, come on! It’s right there.

So there’s obviously a thematic resonance going on here. This weekend – the weekend you’re meant to be reading this – is famous where I come from because of a story where someone came back from the dead. Unlike other holidays – Christmas, Halloween, the release of a Star War – I’ve actually been a little slow off the mark in making lists that celebrate Easter. I’ve done eggs and bunnies, but incredibly I’ve never done resurrections, which really is the day’s whole deal. I mean, if you get down to brass tacks, it’s kinda the big selling point of the entire religion really. I hesitate to say “USP” because, well, it’s been done elsewhere, but it’s still supposed to be one of the big Christian takeaways (there’s definitely a chain of Christian takeaways in the States, isn’t there?).

Anyway, resurrection. It’s actually more common than you might think. Certainly in terms of comics there are probably more characters who’ve “died and come back” than have never “died” at all. But! And this is where I get pernickety. Most characters who “die” don’t actually die. Take Batman for instance: he’s shot in the face by Darkseid, and then Superman ups and finds his charred corpse, but – shocker! – he’s not actually dead, he was just sent back in time, where he Quantum Leaps his way back to the present day, accumulating enough Omega Energy with each leap that by the time he reaches the present day he’s blow a hole in reality. Or something, I’ve not read that story for quite a few years. Anyway: he wasn’t dead. Neither was Sherlock Holmes, or for that matter Dirty Den. Generally speaking, if someone dies in a story and then reappears, they’re not dead. Not really.

So this list here is supposed to be people who actually died. Now, even here, it’s debatable; I mean, is E.T. dead, or does his body just go into some kind of hibernation? If Optimus Prime’s brainwaves survive, does he ever really die? Is a clone someone coming back to life or not? It’s all a bit wishy-washy really, which kind of makes sense when you’re talking about resurrection. And let’s not get onto the chief resurrector, the Doctor; do they die every time they regenerate? Or is the regeneration itself a way of staving off death? When David Tennant turned into Matt Smith, did the Tennant-Doctor die? “I don’t want to go,” and all that; there’s always a subtle (or not-so-subtle) change in personality. Does that count? Well, for the purposes of this list, I’ve kinda decided it doesn’t. But it’s an interesting discussion to have, if you’re a big old nerd like me.

So yeah: people who have died – properly, I suppose – and then come back to life. That’s the list. No fakery, to mistaken identity, no alternate universe shenanigans; they were dead but they got better (no Chev Chelios either; sorry, Stath stans). No zombies either! Or vampires! They’re not undead; they were dead, and now they’re alive again. That’s the rule. Also I’ve seriously tried to limit comic book characters. And I’m sure there are some big omissions (like, I know there’s one from Game of Thrones that’s not on here, but that’s because I’ve not seen that far into the show yet; I know, I know). But I reckon these are the best at being back.

Optimus Prime (Transformers franchise, from about 1987): OP is the OG when it comes to coming back to life. Dying and then stopping being dead is pretty much his thing. Technically the first time he came back from the dead was in the original animation; famously being offed by Megatron in The Transformers: The Movie (1986), he came back to life a year later. Subsequent media have frequently killed him and brought him back, even in the live-action movies, but I want to talk about the comics. Because the original Marvel run killed off Optimus at a similar time as the cartoon; he’s blown up in slightly contrived circumstances, but his brain is saved on a floppy disk. Two years later he has his body rebuilt and his brain restored and he’s off to the races once more. Then in 1991, when facing down planet-eating mega-bastard Unicron, he sacrifices himself again, but this time his personality has begun to merge with that of his ostensibly-human companion Hi-Q. Hi-Q/Prime is converted/rebuilt into a new body, and he wins the war. So there you go: even in this one sliver of continued continuity – not including off-shoots or spin-offs, let alone other iterations of the overall franchise – Optimus Prime died and came back to life twice. Beat that, Easter.

E.T. (E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, 1982): not much to say here that we don’t already know from the Book of Spielberg. E.T., doddery little alien magic-man, grows sicker and sicker as he’s stuck on Earth, until in a thrillingly-edited set-piece he seems to expire, human doctors unable to help him. “I know you’re gone,” says best bud Elliot, “because I don’t know what to feel.” But then! His heart glows! His colour returns! And he positively yells, “E.T. phone hooooooome!” – and Elliot’s euphoric laugh is just devastating. The whole sequence – what is it, ten minutes? Fifteen? – is masterful in every way, from the technical to the performative to the emotional. Bloody magic is what it is.

Gandalf (The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, 1954): Gandalf the Grey famously leads the Fellowship of the Ring across the Bridge of Khazad-dûm, where he faces off against a Balrog. After a bit of “you shall not pass” and all that, they both fall from the bridge, battling each other on the way down, before both perishing at the bottom. Gandalf, though, is not really Gandalf, but Olórin, one of the Maiar – basically a kind of angel, I guess. He is returned to Earth by the powers-that-be to complete his mission, and is promoted to Gandalf the White, supplanting the corrupt wizard Saruman. This new iteration of Gandalf is a bit more serious and steadfast, although he does retain his fascination with hobbits. Regardless, he gets a terrific death scene and a triumphant resurrection, and how it ties into Tolkien’s wider mythology is interesting.

Superman (DC Comics, 1993): comic book characters die and come back all the time; it’s pretty much a staple of the medium. I guess Jean Grey/Phoenix is probably the most famous, but they’ve all done at some point (even if, like in my Batman example earlier, sometimes they don’t actually die). Anyway, Superman died, very famously, after getting into a tremendous barney with genetically-engineered super-git Doomsday (as famously, and atrociously, depicted in Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice). The whole “Death of Superman” arc is interesting and entertaining as an example of mid-nineties big-panel EXTREME storytelling: as the issues tick down to the fateful scrap in Metropolis, the number of panels-per-page is reduced until the final issue is basically just full of splash pages. It’s a terrific, exhilarating rumble, really selling the heft of the confrontation. Interestingly, the comic spends a lot of time afterwards dealing with life without Superman, as a raft of imitators/wannabe successors emerge from the woodwork; these include the best-ever Superboy, Conner Kent, and Steel, who’s basically Superman meets Iron Man. Eventually, of course, Superman comes back, his body essentially having been sent to a Kryptonian day spa to recuperate; he emerges clad in black and with a mullet, so death obviously has some lasting repercussions. Overall, it’s a whopping arc with long-term consequences, and whilst it’s easy to make Christ parallels when discussing Superman, this story doesn’t really hew that way (unlike the Snyder-verse which really goes all-in on that plot point, much to the films’ detriment). One of the better aspects is how, even in death, Superman is an inspiration, which in itself has a long trail; leading, eventually, to Batman’s famous withering diss, “the last time you inspired someone was when you where dead.” Anyway, I’ve gone on about this far too long.

Spock (Star Trek III: The Search for Spock, 1984): let’s start by acknowledging just how great Spock’s death is in Wrath of Khan. As a plot point within the film, as a piece of staging and performance, and as a landmark moment in this franchise, it was seminal; a death for the ages (as an aside, it’s crazy to think Star Trek as a whole was only sixteen years old when Spock died; the MCU was eleven when Tony Stark clicked the bucket). Anyway, they built an entire film around how to bring him back, and Spock as we know him is absent for much of it; a presence looming over everything as he rapidly ages, going through his Vulcan super-puberty and everything. It’s actually a rather sombre film as Kirk’s son is killed and the Enterprise blows up; bringing back Spock comes with a very real cost. Trek III is not one of the top-tier films – in the loose trilogy that comprises Khan, Spock, and The Voyage Home it’s certainly the weakest – but it’s still pretty good, often underrated. And, of course, it brings back Spock, which is nice.

Agent Coulson (Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., 2013): Coulson’s death in Avengers comes as a huge shock, one of the fan-favourite characters being brutally offed in surprising fashion. In a film chock full of super-people, it’s the ordinary guy who buys it tragically. However, did any of us really think he was dead-dead? And so barely a year later he pops back up in the TV series Agents of SHIELD. However, his reincarnation became a recurring plot point; his references to spending time in Tahiti (“It’s a magical place”) becoming increasingly sinister as we come to understand even he doesn’t know how he’s back up and running. The eventual truth – Nick Fury using painful and transformative alien tech to basically bring Coulson back to life – may be a bit underwhelming, but it gave Clark Gregg a lot of meat to chew on dramatically speaking, and it underscored a lot of his character development going forward (especially when he, yes, died again, and then sort-of came back, twice).

Buffy Summers (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, 2001): full disclosure: I never watched Buffy religiously. I think I just missed it at the start and it was only when all my friends were talking about how great it was that I started tuning in more regularly. Weirdly, I think the most I watched it was around the time Buffy died and came back. It’s fascinating, really, and full credit to the show for the way they explored it; in a series full of magic, the afterlife, and the undead, bringing a character back to life isn’t too shocking. Willow, Buffy’s witchy mate, resurrects her with magic; but in an excellent twist, it turns out that she was in Heaven, and is super pissed off to be pulled out of paradise and stuck back on Earth, leading to her feeling depressed and alienated all season. That’s a great hook for bringing a character back, and leads to some meaty stuff for Sarah Michelle Geller to do.

Agent Smith (The Matrix Reloaded, 2003): do you ever feel that The Matrix has slipped from popular culture a little bit? Twenty years ago it was ascendent, rivalling Lord of the Rings for the title of “the new Star Wars”. Everyone was copying it. but now hardly anyone talks about it. probably because it hasn’t had a multimedia shelf-life comprising dozens of games and spin-off shows. Maybe the new film will change that. But I digress; Hugo Weaving is tremendous as Agent Smith in the first film, and is exploded at the end (spoilers) by Keanu Reeves’ Neo. Unsurprisingly – especially as he’s, well, just bits of code – he’s back in the sequel. However, he’s now been corrupted; he becomes, basically, a virus, self-replicating and threatening not just our heroes but the Matrix itself. This builds across two films, as Neo has to fight dozens of Smiths in the famous “Burly Brawl”, before the final conflict in The Matrix Revolutions when it seems everyone in the program has been Smithed. It offers Weaving a lot of scenery to chew on and makes for some great set-piece battles, even if the films themselves are a little disappointing.

Olaf (Frozen II, 2019): let’s not beat around the bush here – Olaf carks it in Frozen II. Okay, maybe Elsa dies; maybe Anna dies in the first film. They’re frozen, right, but I feel like it’s “magic ice” and there’s something going on there. Do they come back to life or were they ever really dead? Anyway, Elsa is effectively “gone” but we get a protracted death scene for the comic relief talking snowman. He literally fades away, slowly dying in Anna’s arms, and melts into a flurry of snow that blows away. People talk about Bambi’s mum all the time, but mark my words; “Olaf’s death” is going to be cited as a major traumatic incident for twenty-year-olds in 2030. His resurrection, truth be told, is slightly less great, Elsa just straight-up bringing him back to life, reminding us that “water has memory” to let us know that it’s the same Olaf and he remembers everything (including, presumably, dying? That’s creepy). And that, to be honest, is where I draw the line; sentient wind and rock monsters I can handle, but we all know homeopathy is bollocks.

Emperor Palpatine (Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, 2019): look, I hate this. But let’s deal with it anyway, because I have a funny feeling it’s going to lead to some quite interesting stories being told in spin-off Star Wars fiction. I personally feel quite strongly that Palpatine should have stayed dead. And maybe he did? We are led to believe that the Palpatine we see in Rise is a clone; there are jars of stilted Snokes floating in the background. He’s all knackered and broken, eyes blackened and fingers dropping off; clearly he’s not well. So is he really the same character at all? Is his Sith essence somehow fed into this new body, the way Prime’s mind is downloaded from a floppy disk (“run prime.exe”)? Let’s say it counts, let’s say he’s the same slimy Palps we know and love. He is, at least, a sinister presence, and like I say, the whys and wherefores of how he came to be back is quite interesting. There’s a fascinating story to be told about the rise of Snoke and the seduction of Ben Solo – a more interesting story than anything told in The Rise of Skywalker, for starters. Moff Gideon in The Mandalorian seems to be researching cloning and seeks to extract midichlorians from a Force-sensitive being; are we to conclude that this in service of making a new body for the Emperor? All this – stuff hinted at but not explored in the film itself – is, like I say, interesting if not outright fascinating. And I agree, there is a certain degree of circularity in bringing back the series’ Big Bad for the final instalment. But I still feel, hand on heart, that it undoes a lot of the victory of Return of the Jedi (as did The Force Awakens, if I’m honest), as well as throwing away all the development of Rey and Kylo in The Last Jedi. So: Palpatine is cool, his presence and backstory in Rise of Skywalker is suitably creepy and interesting, but on the whole it’s crap and they shouldn’t have brought him back. The end.

Ten people who definitely died and definitely un-died! What could be more Easter-y? Honourable mention goes to the episode of Red Dwarf where Rimmer changes history and ends up not being a hologram, only to accidentally blow himself up in the final seconds.

#top ten #dead characters #alive characters #easter #back from the dead #resurrection

[amaryllisblackthorn]

to make up for the looong time its been taking me to get done with my curse au fic i’m uploading snippets  of an unfinished abandoned fic in the same verse. it’s not canon, so i guess its like an au of an au heh. it’s the same universe as the body remembers what the memory forgot, but like i said, it’s not canon so the second installment will completely disregard these parts.

Moonlight shone dimly through veils of dust that covered the faces of virgin windows. The once paragonal coat of youth chipped away from the abrasive wear of time. The emptiness was suffocating if one did not tread carefully, and the silence would have been deafening if not for the rhythm of footsteps accompanying a duo. 

“Christ -- Georgie!” Duncan said as soon as he realized the identity of one of the girl’s facing him. He darted from his place on the stairs leaving the woman, Jolie, where she stood unmoving.

           “Yes, it’s nice to see you too, Duncan,” Sara said, using sarcasm to aid in her recovery of the alarming incident. Her hand was holding Georgie’s, but whether it was for her comfort or her own was hard to tell. Maybe it was both. “Your concern is touching.”

           In the midst of his anger and worry, the boy found the time to flash her a grin. “Always a pleasure, Sara.” His appearance quickly turned serious again as he looked to Georgie and then turned to face Jolie, his brows furrowing. “Can you explain exactly what you were doing here?”

           His voice had a terribly controlled sound to it, a dangerous calm. It was the kind of tone that brought kings to their knees and made the bones in Georgie’s body shake. Somehow, however, it didn’t seem to have much of an effect on Jolie. She stood, stoic. “They’re intruders.”

           “Well, this was fun,” Georgie started to say, already taking some steps back. Her hands opened and unopened several times. Everything seemed so fake for some reason, so unreal. “But I think I’m going to go.”

           “No -- wait!” Duncan said, extending his hand as though to stop her. He had moved slightly closer to her in an attempt to gain her attention. His green eyes implored with hers, looked at her with a sense of understanding and empathy. It was to ensure the advantage that he remained eye level with her, saying, “Stay. Just for a bit -- if you’re still uncomfortable then you can go. Just -- don’t go. Not yet.”

           There was still nothing in Georgie that wanted her to stay. Warnings of go, go! still beat in her heart, her thumb rubbing the hem of her skirt again and again. Even though the danger had passed, her body didn’t seem to be aware. It was a sensation that was too familiar, and she didn’t like it. “I -- I don’t know, Duncan. I don’t really like to keep company with people who try to kill me.”

The hesitance did not completely depart from Georgie, but his words did have an effect on her. It calmed the rattling of her bones, even if just a little bit. He was also so insistent, wanting terribly for her to stay. She decided she could give him a few minutes of her time without it hurting anyone. “Okay,” she breathed, and then, a bit clearer, “Okay, fine. I’ll stay for a bit. As long as there are no more attempts on my life.”

           A smile appeared on the boy’s face, breaking through his attempt to suppress it. “There won’t be. I promise.”

Jolie had a scowl ingrained on her face, and although it may have always been at that intensity, Georgie couldn’t help but feel it was directed at them (her specifically). The again, maybe Georgie was just worrying too much, thinking too much of herself. Nevertheless, it was a less than welcoming expression, and it made the hairs on Georgie’s skin stand up just a little. It’s not that Georgie genuinely believed that the older woman would actually hurt her, but she had a suspicion that’s exactly what she wanted to do.

           “Hey,” a voice said, breaking through her thoughts. Duncan had approached her, having left Jolie’s side. His lips formed a half smile, and she had to admit he looked kind of cute when his smile wasn’t a smirk. Objectively speaking. “Everything okay? You look kind of disquieted.”

           Her lips tightened as she gave him a close smile. “No, yeah, I’m fine,” Georgie said, putting a loose strand of hair behind her ear. For someone who regularly wore ponytails, she would have thought she’d be able to do them better. In fact, she wasn’t even sure if she really liked ponytail. They made her feel kind of … mature? Not that that was a problem, exactly, but when was the last time she wore her hair down, besides from sleeping and showering? Strange were the things she’d been beginning to notice after years of them never crossing her mind. That was life, she guessed.

           “See -- there!” Duncan said, once again interrupting her musings. There was something almost playful about his features as he gained her attention again. “You did it again. You sure everything’s okay?”

           “Positive,” Georgie assured him, then added, “but, I mean, I guess this just isn’t my cup of tea? It’s nothing personal, it’s just I was kind of expecting to, you know, explore an abandoned building or something. I didn’t expect like a haunted house kind of a deal or like Paris catacombs under the building or anything, but I guess I was looking forward to the thrill of walking through an isolated building? It’s silly, I know. It’s just that this is kind of … boring.”

           She didn’t want to be too blunt and end up offending him, but he seemed to take it very well. His lips spread wider, and he seemed somewhat amused. “You haven’t even been here for ten minutes,” Duncan said (he wasn’t exactly sure of how much time had actually passed but it certainly seemed like not much), “and you’ve already decided that you know everything there is to know about this building! I’ll let you know, bird, there’s a lot to still explore in this old building.”

           Georgie scrunched her nose and exaggerated an angry pout at the use of that nickname. It was a stupid one (unlike Georgie which was a pleasant sounding derivative of Georgia, her name), but she didn’t really have that much of an objection to it. It was just really fun when she pretended that she did. In fact, she kind of liked that he did it, because in an odd way it made her feel better about that whole kidnapped-by-a-sicko incident. Like it had less power over her because they were able to refer to it without avoidance or caution. She didn’t know how to explain it, but it was kind of nice.

          The eyes of the boy in front of her were no longer on her but gazed somewhere past her. “I don’t know, she seems to be all right,” he said, casually.

          Georgie spun her head around to see what he was talking about. Sara was talking to three boys who had names that evaded Georgie but whom seemed to be engaged in the conversation. Her friend’s hands moved animatedly as she spoke, her eyes housing a spark as she did so.

          “After a lot of trial and error, experience, and extensive research,” she was saying, “I’ve found out that the best materials are balsa wood, thick clear pine, steel wool, unbleached muslin, dowels, carpet thread, and sheet brass. I’ve heard some things about trunk fiber, and honestly I’m dying to use it.”

          “What is she talking about?” Georgie said half-absently to herself, staring at Sara in bewilderment. Man, did her friend have some peculiar hobbies.

            “So?” Duncan asked, his voice full of anticipation. He tried to suppress it, but it was there. In an odd way, he resembled a puppy, with a tilted head and wide expecting eyes. She wouldn’t be surprised if his ears had perked up. It was actually a pretty amusing imagery.

           “I -- I don’t know, Duncan,” Georgie told him, putting her hands together, restless. “I just don’t … feel comfortable, you know? I should probably just -- ”

           “ -- go home?” Duncan finished for her, his eyebrow raised. His features had become harsher, judgmental even. Maybe even hurt.

           “Duncan -- ”

           “And what waits for you there, Georgie, hm? A practical life of routine and predictability, where you grow up silently without any protest? You would rather go back fading into the abyss? You would rather stay where you know is safe and protected, not just from dangers and threats but from living and excitement? Are you really that afraid of the dark that you would rather keep your window shut than go out and venture through and discover what lies there? So afraid that you’d rather close your eyes and miss all of the marvels and wonders that pass you by, that you’d see if you only looked? Is that really what you want to go back to, Georgie? Is it?”

           “How dare you,” said Georgie, clenching her fists. Her brow was furrowed as her cheeks raised. She tried to keep her voice from raising while still expressing all of the fury that she felt. “How dare you. How dare you criticize me for wanting safety -- after everything that I’ve been through? Where do you get off judging me for being afraid after I’ve been abducted by some murderous psycho who had a room covered in the blood of his victims? I’ve earned the right to be afraid, and you can go screw yourself for saying otherwise.”

           “Why can’t you just believe that I won’t let anyone hurt you?” he asked furiously, as though he was the one being wronged.

           “Because I can’t trust you not to do it yourself!” she retorted right back, refusing to shrink down. “I can’t trust you, not when you may have burned down a house and killed someone! I thought I could have ignored it, I thought that I could be okay with it, but I realize now that I’m not. I’m not, because if you could have done that, then who knows what else you could be capable of? I can’t trust you to be able to control yourself, and that’s terrifying. The boys never do anything to upset you, but is that out of loyalty or fear? At the end of the day, Duncan Faber, I still don’t know you. I can say what instruments you play and what language you take, but I can’t say that I trust you, because I can’t. Not really.”

           His glare was thrown like daggers, but Georgie stood unfazed, her nerves impenetrable armor. Heat seemed to be seething from him, his breaths rough and ragged. Oh, if looks could kill. Well, he wasn’t the only one who knew how to throw daggers. She had an advantage over him, too; he constantly overestimated himself and underestimated others. Georgia McCarthy was not one to be underestimated lightly.

           Before he was able to find his voice, to form words out of his turbulent emotion, Georgie spun around and started to make her way across the corridor. “Don’t follow me,” she warned, not even looking back. She wasn’t going to stay in the company of someone who didn’t respect her, who invalidated how she felt. No, Georgie held too much self-respect for herself, too much dignity. There was no way she was going to let a smug pompous jerk spit all over here as she just took it. No, sir. Not Georgie.

There was something nagging in the back of her mind — like, Yeah, good luck with this one. Did you honestly think you would be able to find something like this? How much longer are you going to keep romanticizing things that aren’t meant to be romanticized?  Don’t you remember how things worked out last time?

(For a moment, a quick fleeting moment, she scratched sentience and was so very close to the cracks of remembrance.)

The tracks guiding the train of thought disassembled as quickly as they were put down, and Georgie occupied herself with this latest development. She honestly didn’t expect for it to work, especially not this soon. One of the negatives of making it up as she went was not knowing what to do next; how was she supposed to enter?

A once passive nature had transformed into a creation much different, much more comfortable. Stubbornness was an old jacket she found without trying that had been custom made for her. It suited her perfectly, and she accepted it so intrinsically that it was hard to remember that she hadn’t always worn it. The knitted brow, the intense frown, the stonewall resolve — they all appeared bringing with them a sense of reversion.

#darling pan #ab writes #cw: blood #cw: kidnapping #cw: abduction #mentions of those past three things #cw: pstd #sort of #ouat #once upon a time #boy this has been sitting in my drafts for months man im the worst; #;ill finish the next installment....eventually...

[adamcairnsorg-blog]

How To Massively Improve The Quality Of Your Ideas

A Lesson From The Industrial Age

In mid-to-late 19th Century Britain, the new was sweeping powerfully in. It was an age of invention and technology and never before had so much change happened as quickly. Industrial marvels were proliferating at bewildering speed. Earlier inventions had set the pace.

The steam engine (1712)

Spinning jenny (1764)

The cotton gin (1794)

Now came a new and growing welter of devices and technologies that created entirely new industries.

The telegraph (1844)

The sewing machine (1846)

The elevator safety break (1853)

Bessemer steel processing (1855)

Invention of dynamite (1866)

The telephone (1876)

Vaccines such as smallpox (1870)

The light bulb (1879)

Amid all this tumultuous change there were other less welcome effects. 

“The production of too many useful things results in too many useless people”.     – Karl Marx, Human Requirements and Division of Labour Under the Rule of Private Property, Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts of 1844.

Marx was referring of course to the impact that industrialisation was having on the working class. Machines were taking over the jobs that people once did, thereby robbing them of the capacity to feed themselves and their families. The age of industrialisation started in the mid 18th Century and by the time Marx was writing his critique of the industrial society, heavy machinery had dramatically changed the world of work.

Today's Useless People

The phrase “too many useful things” has a modern day connotation too. The digital era of connected everything has delivered another slant on this aphorism. Today we are presented with a proliferation of devices and technologies that if we are not careful can overwhelm us, making us in turn, “useless people.”

It’s not just the external world which creates demands on our time and attention. In a recent post, Brett Kelly said this:

My ideas fall into one of three categories:

1. Stuff that's obviously stupid and/or a waste of time (this bucket is where the vast majority come from). 2. Stuff that's pure genius and holy crap I need to write that down right now before I forget. Naturally, these are few and far between. 3. Stuff that's clearly flawed to some extent, but might be worth investigating down the road.

That third one is the real kicker.

Letting these ideas percolate is key. Sometimes, doing literally nothing with a new stroke of (apparent) wisdom is the best course of action in the moment.

This tension between the immediate instinct to react and the benefits of reflection (what Wordsworth called “wise passivity”) is at the heart of what John Keats termed “negative capability.” 

“He demanded that the poet be receptive rather than searching for fact or reason, and to not seek absolute knowledge of every truth, mystery, or doubt”.

John Keats' Life

John Keats was born in London in 1795 when the industrial revolution was already powering huge changes to society. Cities like London were swelling with a tide of people swept up in a shift of industrial emphasis that fundamentally altered the balance  of occupations between town and country. 

As a schoolboy, Keats distinguished himself academically, but tragedy was a constant and close companion. When he was eight years old, his father died, falling from his horse after visiting John and his brother at their boarding school. Six years later his mother also died from tuberculosis and John was left in the care of his grandmother and two guardians appointed by his late mother.

In the autumn of 1810, Keats left school and began an apprenticeship as a surgeon and apothecary. He then enrolled as a medical student at Guy’s Hospital a year later, demonstrating a clear aptitude for medicine, by winning an early promotion to “dresser”, somewhat akin to the role a junior doctor might perform today. Everyone assumed his path was now set.

However, at the age of 21, Keats published his first poem in the Examiner, a leading liberal magazine which was published in May 1816. He was now dedicating more and more and more of his time to studying literature and he began experimenting with different verse forms, including the sonnet. He decided to quit medicine in December of the same year and concentrate on writing. In April 1817 he moved into a new home in Hampstead with two of his brothers.

Tuberculosis has been referred to as the Keats family illness. His mother died from the disease, and Keats was now nursing his brother Tom who had contracted the illness. It is likely that John was infected during this time. 

After his brother’s death in December 1819 he moved to Wentworth Place, which was owned by his friend Charles Brown. Wentworth Place is a beautifully proportioned Georgian house, set close to Hampstead Heath and it was here, in a miraculous period of a few short months in the winter of 1818-1819 that he wrote his greatest poems, including five of his most famous Odes.

Negative Capability – How It Shaped His Work

Keats was a prolific letter writer throughout his life. In a letter to his brother George and Tom dated 21st December 1817 first used the term ‘Negative Capability.” This is the state in which we are:

 “…capable of being in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts without any irritable reaching after fact & reason ...[Being] content with half knowledge" where one trusts in the heart's perceptions.

He wrote later:

"I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart's affections and the truth of Imagination – What the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth – whether it existed before or not – for I have the same Idea of all our Passions as of Love they are all in their sublime, creative of essential Beauty" 

His letters provide an example of how "negative capability" shaped his poetry. In September 1819, Keats wrote to Reynolds 

"How beautiful the season is now – How fine the air. A temperate sharpness about it  ... I never lik'd the stubbled fields as much as now – Aye, better than the chilly green of spring. Somehow the stubble plain looks warm – in the same way as some pictures look warm – this struck me so much in my Sunday's walk that I composed upon it". 

The final stanza of his last great ode: "To Autumn" runs:

"Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,

And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;"

Keats immediate response to the scenes he observed on his walk, recorded in his letter, later emerged as powerful poetry. 

As is well known, Keats' short life ended in Rome, succumbing to tuberculosis while under the care of his friend Joseph Severn.  His last moments were described by Severn in a letter:

"Keats raves till I am in a complete tremble for him...about four, the approaches of death came on. [Keats said] 'Severn—I—lift me up—I am dying—I shall die easy; don't be frightened—be firm, and thank God it has come.' I lifted him up in my arms. The phlegm seem'd boiling in his throat, and increased until eleven, when he gradually sank into death, so quiet, that I still thought he slept."

What Might Have Been

In his life, Keats had little reason to believe his poetry would be remembered. After his death, his reputation steadily grew, with the likes of Tennyson describing him as the greatest poet of the 19th Century. His short and tragic life, combined with the compressed timescale of his mature artistic output leave both an indelible mark and a question. What might he have gone on to achieve had he lived a longer life?

The Takeaway

1. Let Ideas Percolate

Anchoring our ideas and allowing them to percolate as Brett Kelly suggests often produces a deeper, more nuanced response. Our minds make connections unconsciously and by creating a space for this alchemy to work we are adopting a wise passivity. 

This isn’t the same as spending time thinking about it.

Allowing the idea to sit quietly in the background without worrying away at it is what Brett is getting at. Be patient, and you’ll find that some of your best ideas will emerge more completely formed by following this route.

2. Manage Your Reactions

It is not just the external world though that generates competing claims on our time, energy and attention – it’s also our internal world, with it’s ideas and emotional responses.

Creating a gap between what you experience and how you respond can pay dividends.

There are times when you will be confronted with an issue and with it an implied pressure to respond straight away. Of course there are times when you must do so –  an alarm bell sounding doesn’t require passivity. On the other hand, a constant state of trigger happy reactivity will create an atmosphere of nervous tension around. This isn’t conducive to clear thinking in you or the people around you.

3. Build A System To Capture Your Ideas

From time to time it’s worth checking if you’re allowing sufficient time for your ideas and responses to gestate. It’s a good idea to have a system in place to capture your ideas and store them in a way that you always have access to. 

You can read my post about note taking taking here.

4. Keep Your Most Important Goals In Sight

There are so many channels of communication and corresponding incoming traffic that rains down on us all. Without a system to manage this it will be hard for us to see what is important with the kind of clarity that creates your best work. You want to avoid becoming a “useless person” so overwhelmed with possibilities that choosing a path becomes difficult. 

The best advice is to build a system that allows you to retain an oversight of your most important goals and opportunities. 

5. Don't Overthink It

Finally and paradoxically it’s also important to avoid over-analysing. There are times when something is so obviously the right solution to a problem that no further analysis is required.    Its’s like the man said:

“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”               

Or if you prefer, don’t over-think it.

Question: How do you manage your immediate reactions?

#Ideas #John Keats #Leadership stories

[patchworkpoett]

CLOSED STARTER     //     for Steve   >>   @herosquandary​

Midgard is hot and colorful and Vin is mildly worried he's going to accidentally crush one of the little ones that are running around. Thankfully, most of them are warriors, they're fast, or strong enough that he will be fine as long as he is gentle, which he often is.

He's watching the little men, women, and people in black outfits scurry in and out of the ship he came in. They still aren't used to his height - standing at a full 11 feet and 2 inches, he towers over all of them. A lot of them seem scared, so he awkwardly plops down in the grass, legs crossed, trying to seem less intimidating. He is here to scare their enemies, not the agents themselves. Even at this height, he's face to face with most of them, and a few are still smaller.

And then he watches a Midgardian with golden hair approach him, seemingly unafraid.

" Hello, "   He greets with a hesitant smile, the very hint of a fangs showing between his lips - he'd learned the language ( most of it, anyway ) before he'd arrived here.   " My name is Divinity, but you may call me Vin. "

#(( WOOP have him )) #(( he shy uvu )) #ic. #character; divinity > do not stand at my grave and weep #marvel verse > a heart of steel starts to grow #jotun verse; divinity > my heart is gold and my hands are cold #herosquandary #friends [divinity] > steve/herosquandary #ic; divinity

[patchworkpoett]

ANSWERED     //    ???   >>   @apocalypsejumper​ sent:   " Why hello," Sylvie greets from far below, a curious smile on her face as she watches him. Unlike Loki she's not afraid of anyone from Jötunheimr and instead felt comfortable approaching him. "What's your name?" 

" Greetings, malynako'kvy, "   What a curious little person. It's rare to see Asgardians here, especially one so brave and kind. They usually try to fight him immediately. The change is refreshing.   " My name is Divinity, but they call me Vin. Are you the god I am supposed to meet? "

#(( malynako'kvy - small one. stranger. outsider )) #ic. #character; divinity > do not stand at my grave and weep #ic; divinity #marvel verse > a heart of steel starts to grow #jotun verse; divinity > my heart is gold and my hands are cold #apocalypsejumper #friends [divinity] > sylvie/apocalypsejumper

[patchworkpoett]

CLOSED STARTER     //     for Loki   >>   @tricktm​

Vin really didn't think he'd be the kind of person to ever leave his homeworld of Jotunheim, but now that he had . . .

Travel might just have been something he was direly craving, and he hadn't even noticed. There are so many new people, and he learns new languages. He had met people who were mortal enemies of Jotun -  gotten into battle with them, had to kill, some, managed to befriend others! It's exciting! There is so much to learn here.

Something about finding someone being assaulted in a back alley kind of reminds him of home.

In one swift move, he unsheathes his sword and swings, and everyone who fails to duck in time - five of them - are simultaneously beheaded or cut in half by the eight feet of Jotun steel. He grabs one of the strangers by their collar and throws them like it's nothing, dozens of feet, all the way across the street, where they fly over the railing of the road and down, landing, presumably dead, underneath the overpass.

There are two more when he looks back. One of them raises his hands, almost starts making an excuse - Vin's eyes move instead to the victim, bloodied and injured on the ground, considering.

Abruptly, he grabs one of them by their head, and with a clench of his fist, their neck cracks, pieces of their skull snapping under the pressure.The third runs towards him with a knife, a desperate attempt to save themselves, and he snatches them with the tail he's hidden behind him - they throw the dagger. It embeds itself into his chest and he growls, a low and vicious rumble as he throws them carelessly over the overpass with the other one.

After checking to ensure they have fallen and no one is alive, Vin glances at the weapon in his chest, deciding to leave it there for now so it won't bleed out.

The stranger, the innocent one, (or the victim, at least), is still there, and DIvinity abruptly realizes why this alley reminded him of home. He smells Jotun. He doesn't looks Jotun - he looks Asgardian. Isn't that strange.

" You are injured. Can you stand? "   He greets, in Jotun, worriedly, lowering himself, sitting on his knees, tilting down to seem smaller, less dangerous. He did just kill many men with significant ease, but he is not cruel - he wants to help this one.   " It's okay. My name is Divinity, but you may call me Vin. I am here to help you, brytr, "

#(( listen. LISTEN. he is nice but he is NOT NICE )) #(( i make up words brytr means brother FUCK IT )) #(( vin just collecting lokis rn i love it )) #ic. #character; divinity > do not stand at my grave and weep #marvel verse > a heart of steel starts to grow #jotun verse; divinity > my heart is gold and my hands are cold #tricktm #friends [divinity] > loki/tricktm #death tw #murder tw #(( THIS IS MURDER VIN )) #graphic tw #gore tw #blood tw #injury tw #ic; divinity

[patchworkpoett]

ANSWERED     //    Lyra   >>   @healertm​ sent:  

" You don’t look so good, "

" I am fine. "   Coming home from a hunt to the little moth lady felt different to coming home to just his daughter. This hunt had been a creature, one with large fangs and teeth. They'd hit him a few times - he's scratched and bitten and generally banged up, but most of the blood wasn't his. His entire face, hair, most of his chest is covered in it - crystallized red, frozen from the cold.

" I could use a bath, "   He huffs, dodging around the tiny one to come inside. He could use a few stitches, too. but he'll manage.   " The thing is dead, the people are safe, and on, and on, "

He starts shedding pieces of his armor - the creature ripped through a strap on his shoulderpiece, so he'll need to get that replaced. There are a few tears in his jacket to stitch. Vin is somehow of the mind that the tears in his armor or worse than the tears underneath, where the creature had got through to skin. it's another few sets of claw marks to wear as scars. Such is the job.

#(( mercenaries. always ignoring their GOSHDARN WOUNDS )) #ic. #character; divinity > do not stand at my grave and weep #ic; divinity #marvel verse > a heart of steel starts to grow #jotun verse; divinity > my heart is gold and my hands are cold #healertm #friends [divinity] > lyra/healertm

[patchworkpoett]

CONTINUED FROM   [ x ]     //       ??? (weirdo)   >>   @herosquandary

​" Mhm. He's tall with blonde hair and a plain white tee shirt -  no labels or nothing, it's really funky. I saw him watching everyone at the park all weird and then I walked up to him and asked if he was lost and he asked me if anyone was acting funky, and I said, 'you, sir!' "

Izzy grins as if she hasn't just absolutely wrecked this poor man, then abruptly squints, pursing her lips as she glances in another direction.

" Also the guy that pushed me. Really rude, like he was in a hurry, but he didn't have on a suit or nothin'. Seemed almost scared of me, to be honest, like I was gonna pick his pocket or something, which I would NEVER do. "

#ic. #character; isabel > invictus #marvel verse > a heart of steel starts to grow #herosquandary #friends [isabel] > steve/herosquandary #ic; isabel

[patchworkpoett]

CONTINUED FROM   [ x ]     //       Steve   >>   @herosquandary​

" Uh . . . magic. When you started trying to explain the magic, "   Vin laughs, a deep rumbling thing. Magic is different throughout different cultures, and Vin had studied much of his own. Upon a mention of it, he'd become interested, and Steve had done a valiant job of trying to explain.   " I will ask Tony. A wise man admits their lack of wisdom, Steve. "

#(( i missed the toll boy. i missssseddd him )) #ic. #character; divinity > do not stand at my grave and weep #marvel verse > a heart of steel starts to grow #jotun verse; divinity > my heart is gold and my hands are cold #herosquandary #friends [divinity] > steve/herosquandary #ic; divinity

[patchworkpoett]

CLOSED STARTER     //     for Loki   >>   @godguile​

Jotunheim is getting closer and closer to Hel every day. The war between they and Asgard, lost, the source of their magic gone, left the world to begin to fall to ruin. Many Jotun had gone insane after the loss of the casket. Killed loved ones, even.

It cannot be said, however, that those who are left are not survivors. Divinity had made a name for himself as a hunter, whether man or beast. He did what he could to keep as many alive as possible, and did what needed to be down with the rest.

He's hunting now, days travel from any city, in snow which would kill any who weren't native to the cold.

He catches a whiff of smoke on the air. FIRE. Something exceeding unnatural on Jotunheim, and if his nose was right - he sniffs again - yes, there's the distant smell of something chemical about it.

With his sword drawn, he follows the scent, blue-white skin hidden by the snow until -

It's a ship.  A crashed one. There is a little one crawling out of it - could it be? He sniffs, and squints, his nose and eyes in opposition. The person, whoever they were, looked like someone of Asgard - a dangerous look to have - but they smelled like a Jotun. It’s confusing - they appear little more than half his height, and they look . . . but the scent is unmistakable.

He cocks his head, curious. Whoever they were, he could smell blood too. They must have crashed, and injured themselves.

Slowly, he stands, sheathing his greatsword.

" Hello, "   He says, in Jotun.

" You are hurt, little one. I can help you. "

#(( WOOP HERE hE IS )) #(( eleven feet tall and ready to rumble )) #ic. #character; divinity > do not stand at my grave and weep #marvel verse > a heart of steel starts to grow #jotun verse; divinity > my heart is gold and my hands are cold #godguile #friends [divinity] > loki/godguile #ic; divinity

[patchworkpoett]

ANSWERED     //    ???   >>   @renslayertm​ sent:  

“ i need help. please. ”

" Where is the pain? "   Alexis can tell she's in pain, from the way she's wincing, and his instincts as a paramedic had snapped to attention.   " I'm a paramedic, I can help. Sit down, show me. "   He doesn't see any blood, but that might be because it's dark as shit outside - he hadn't expected to find a woman stumbling around injured on a midnight walk, but he likes to think he's generally prepared for surprises - he's certainly dealing with this one well.

" Did someone do this to you? Do I need to call help? "

#(( alexis my darling it's been forever and a half )) #(( i dont have icons for him so *shrug* )) #(( i hope you like :) )) #ic. #character; alexis > whoever you are holding me now in hand #marvel verse > a heart of steel starts to grow #renslayertm #friends [alexis] > ravonna/renslayertm #ic; alexis

[patchworkpoett]

CLOSED STARTER     //     for Lyra   >>   @healertm

" Be careful with this one, "   It says, so he knows there is more to her than meets the eye.

" Hello, cher, "   Alexis calls softly, politely, smiles as she looks his way.   " You look lost. "

#(( i don't have ICONS )) #(( who cares tho amirigHT )) #(( lyra vc: wow you're nice :) )) #(( alexis vc: *secretly murdering people on the side * mhm! :) )) #ic. #character; alexis > whoever you are holding me now in hand #ic; alexis #marvel verse > a heart of steel starts to grow #villain verse; alexis > so they'll never die when I'm dead #healertm #friends [alexis] > lyra/healertm

[patchworkpoett]

[    VILLAIN VERSE     >   SO THEY'LL NEVER DIE WHEN I'M DEAD    ]

Alexis was doing his usual work as a paramedic in New York when he ran across an alien device that has taken over his mind and changed him. His new goal in life is to watch, learn, gather resources, and take over the world, when he's ready :) The device shall be referred to as the Catalyst.

Learned Skills -

Swords - He can fence. Why? Because it's cool.

Silent Movement - You can't hear his steps, even if he is running. Part of this is learned, and part of it from the Catalyst.

Medical Knowledge - He was a paramedic, he knows a lot about first aid.

Villain StuffTM - You know. How to get minions, how to hide things, etc, etc.

Abilities gained from the Catalyst -

Mind Control - He has to speak to them to allow control. Stronger will, more intelligence, means more time it takes to gain control. The control can be broken by him, by excessive dehydration/heat, by brain trauma or loss of the memory where he gained control, by anyone with the ability to enter one's mind and fuck around in there, by excessive time away from him ( anywhere from a month to a few years, depending on how powerful their will is), if he takes on too many servants - ( he can only control small crowds, again, depends on their will, but generally the max is about 100 people, and it is very difficult for him to gain control of this many people at the same time) or by destroying the Catalyst. Control directly from the Catalyst can only be broken by the catalyst - such is the case with Alexis himself.

Telepathy - When in direct contact with someone, he can gain access to their memories. They are still in control of their body when he does this, though resisting his attempts can cause damage.

Memory Control - When in direct contact with someone, he can gain access to their memories, and also fuck around in there, edit their memories to suit his will. The only exception to this is that he can make someone forget they saw him without touch.

Survival Instincts - He intuitively knows what actions to take to ensure survival (as given to him by the Catalyst). This isn't common for him, he is often working of his own volition and instinct, but in a very dangerous scenario, he may be informed of a way out.

These things are strengthened by a weakness in his own will - mental illness and the like. The more stressed or scared he is, the more powerful he becomes.

He is weakened by dehydration or excessive heat - some part of the catalyst needs water to survive. Other weaknesses involve A ) he is just a man, and not a particularly strong one at that. If you hit him, he will go down. B ) Alexis himself is still in there, though twisted by the Catalyst. He has been made to believe the cause is right, but he can be made displeased with his own methods. This has to be carefully done, because if he becomes traumatized by the thoughts, the Catalyst grows stronger. If he finds the will to fight it, the Catalyst can get weaker.

The Catalyst will kill him before it lets him destroy it. If it does, the threat is neutralized until it finds a new host. It cannot kill him instantly. It would take over his body and send him to the Catalyst, which could physically kill him outright.

Abilities when he has the Catalyst physically with him -

Invisibility - Boop de doop, he's gone. 

Flight - Up and down and around.

Both are gone if the Catalyst is taken away from him, or if he drops it, etc.

#(( I HAVE A NEW VERSE )) #ooc. #character; alexis > whoever you are holding me now in hand #about; alexis #marvel verse > a heart of steel starts to grow #villain verse; alexis > so they'll never die when I'm dead