Nov 2018 Archive, part c

Hi PPC,

Do any of you happen to be or know the wonderful, beautiful person I fell in love with during my club presidency of my high school's literature club? They have been avoiding me lately and I want to find them and show them how much I care. I was looking for literature groups where I might find them and I stumbled upon this one. Please reply quickly - I just can't be without my love!

Thanks,
Monika

P.S. If it's about the other girls in the club, I do apologize for their deletion, but it had to happen.

I wrote a story for a small-scale writing competition run by a local publishing outlet called Whirling Chair. The brief was a horror story, so I tried to mess with expectations and do one from the point of view of a much younger person. I was one of the winners and got to read the piece at their "Tea, Toast, and Ghosts" evening, as well as receiving a promise that it would be published. A year has passed, and they seem to have all but disappeared off the face of the Earth, which... well, I feel somewhat irked. Oh well.

This said, here's my entry: Nana. I hope you all enjoy it.

CW: violence, scariness, Comic Sans. =]

Simple enough game, really. You have been chosen to take part in a new Holy Grail War (from the Fate series) and you are trying to summon a Heroic Spirit to fight for you. The only caveat: the spirit must be a character from fiction.

1) Who are you trying to summon?
2) Which of the seven standard Classes are they?

Neshomeh and I were discussing this in regards to the 40k Primarchs, but I figure we should open it up to the entirety of fandom.

-Phobos

The other chapters may be found here:-

1: General Theories
2: The Art Of Noises
3: The Role Of Conjuring
4: Language In Relation...
5: ... To A Unified Theory

---

"Fairest and fallen," Siobhan said, her voice thick with the effort of not stammering, not giving in, not letting everything win, "greetings and defiance."

The Lone Power arched an exquisite eyebrow for a second, then gave a theatrical, tinkling sigh. "They always say that. Every time. You know, just once, I'd like for a wizard to be original. Is that so much to ask? But no, it's always 'Fairest and fallen' this and 'greetings and defiance' that. Change the record now and again, it might do you good."

"You. Um." Siobhan paused and looked at Wombat, who shrugged. "Er. You won't get away with this!"

"That too, little wizard, that too. Normally about fifteen minutes after I already have, because mortal brains do tend to arrive to coherent thought fashionably late. Then again, when you're me, linear time is something that happens to other people."

Running out of brainpower, Siobhan tried a different tack. "Oingo boingo, my old man's a mushroom, happy happy boom boom swamp swamp swamp."

"... I've heard-"

"You've heard that too." Siobhan sighed. "Of course you have."

"After this exact amount of tries. Humans always think they're so clever, but I really have seen it all before. Or at least, I will."

"Yeah, non-linear experience of time, you mentioned."

"So, with that all settled..." The Lone Power sashayed forward, grace personified. It snapped a finger and a chaise longue appeared from nowhere, and It artfully lounged upon the crushed red velvet. "I presume you've come to try and stop me."

"I. Er. Well, yes. It's sort of the job description. I thought that was covered in the, er, 'defiance' part of the traditional greeting."

"You're trying to be clever too!" It clapped Its hands, like a proud dog owner whose puppy has finally learned not to leave steaming dumps on the upholstery. "It's quite cute, really. Good look on a boy with your bone structure."

Siobhan flinched.

"Oh dear," It continued, "does that strike a nerve? I'm quite knowledgeable about illusions, young man. The images mortal wizards put about to pretend that things that aren't real are. Why pretend any more? No-one's buying it. Why would anyone want to?"

"I..." Siobhan squeaked, then stopped, breath hitching in her throat. Her arm twitched, knocking over her drink. Wombat scooched out of the way of the blue flood. "Frig. Stupid arm."

She looked down, then felt something touch her through the thick sleeve of her raincoat. She turned her head and saw Wombat nuzzling her, gently, slowly, firmly. Then she looked back up.

"I will stop you, Lone One."

"You don't even know what it is you're trying to stop." It laughed, high and clear. Siobhan felt like the whole world was laughing alongside It. "You're groping in the dark for answers, but you know absolutely nothing. Then again, why break the habit of a lifetime?"

"Because you're trying to play on my insecurities about my intelligence and my self-worth and my gender identity. That's been your plan to deal with me from the word go. And it's not working. Not any more."

The Lone Power looked as if she'd just been doused with cold water. It sat up and glared at Siobhan, who stared right back, eyes half-hidden by the hood of her raincoat.

"So then." Siobhan began to walk back and forth. "Let's have a little think about this, shall we? Why do you want me to leave? Whatever you're doing involves everyone being out of the pub unless they're under your direct control. Every other wizard, lowest to highest, has wandered off to... wherever. Actually, you know what?" She snapped her fingers, spinning on the spot briefly. "I don't think we even moved. You gave it away yourself, rabbiting on at me about illusions. Pretending things are real. And since none of them have come back in... I think you needed all the wizards on the other side of a locked door."

"What a lovely story," sighed the Lone Power with the tone of a mother looking at a small child's potato print painting and reassuring the kid that yes, darling, it's definitely going on the fridge. "Do you intend to get to the point? Or do you just like the sound of your own voice."

"Getting there, getting there, patience is a virtue even for beings who don't abide by the rules of causality and linear time." Siobhan had wandered halfway around the table by this point, but now she turned and began to walk back. "So. Next question: why aren't we all dead? I'm new to all this magic lark, but I've got the general impression that you're not a fan of wizards. So why not kill us? Why go through the rigmarole of making an illusion that's individually tailored to each wizard on the premises? That's a lot of work... so whatever you've got planned means that you need them alive.

"So, you need everybody alive and you need everybody out, but the illusion... I'm gonna hazard a guess that it fades away after a certain point? Bet the wizards outside are trying to get in right this second, aren't they? But the doors are locked until everyone's out, and then you can get on with whatever it was you were doing. If I were a betting woman, and I'm not-"

"No," It said. "You're not.

"-Yes, thank you for your input, I told you it's not working." Siobhan's arm twitched again, her knuckles clunking off Purple's pint pot of mixed nuts. "Ow. Smeg. Anyway. I reckon you're putting a curse on the building. There's people from all over the shop in this pub. It's just like Purple said, all the world passes through, like a regular crosstime saloon. Heh. I wonder if there's ever been a Callahan in here. So anyway, I'd say, if I had to make an educated guess, that you're making yourself a part of the building. And after that, every wizard who passes through takes a little bit of you with them when they leave. Your malice. Your cruelty. Your spite. Your inherent youness. And that makes you spread. All across time and space, scattered throughout Earth's history and among its interplanetary neighbours. You're going viral. That's your play, and that's why you needed everyone out, because every single wizard would know what you were doing and stop you. You just did the magical equivalent of leaning back and elbowing a fire alarm. And it almost, almost worked. But here I am. Trying to stop you."

The Lone Power clapped three times, each more derisory than the last. "Pretty little speech. Is that really what you think I'm up to?"

"Yeah, I'd say so. If it wasn't, you'd be a lot more smug. But hey, you caused the collapse of Roman Britain and you drowned a school full of children under a sea of coal slag, maybe you're good at compartmentalizing. Either way up, that's your plan. And now you're not going to kill me, because that's my plan."

"What."

"Well, look at it rationally. You kill me, two options. Either you hide the body or you don't. Whichever one you pick, Purple's got to come back into the pub for your plan to work, and he knows I'm here. So that'll set off the alarm bells. And it'll get stopped. Maybe not by me, but someone will stop you. Someone will stand in your way. Because someone has to."

"What masterful reasoning."

Siobhan started pacing faster at that. The Lone One was smiling, and that was bad in a way she couldn't express without resorting to her lizard hindbrain.

"Yeah, um-"

"Of course," said the Lone Power in a voice like a silk scabbard, "I could just kill you, craft a reasonably convincing illusion, and have your little friend talk to that to see that you're well and not to worry about anything."

"Ah." Siobhan paced faster still.

"Which means I win, I think. And you die, of course, but you're a mortal, you people are used to that sort of thing."

"Well, I mean, it only happens to us once-"

"Is that a challenge, you stupid little boy?"

Siobhan's eyes were like soup plates and the corners of them were filling with tears. "Can I say my goodbyes, then?"

It waved a hand in a loftily dismissive fashion. "Oh, go on, then. It can't hurt."

Siobhan turned to Wombat. The glittering in his one glass eye was dull and faded as old newsprint. "I'm so sorry, Wombat. I failed you. I should have seen the signs."

Wombat placed a paw on her hand, smoothing over the bruise on her knuckles. "It's going to be all right, Siobhan."

"I hope so," said Siobhan, and only the stuffed animal could see her wink at him. "Because there's a thing about signs. It's called indexicality. One of the three keystones of modern linguistic theory, and therefore anthropology, as it relates to signs and their referents. Simply put, indexicality refers to the phenomenon of a sign pointing to object X in a specific context in which it occurs. The signs above pubs are a great example, actually, as they are indices of not only the social construct of 'the pub' but also of the specific pub itself - what kind of pub it is, what kind of beer it serves, the brewery it's tied to, if any, the list goes on. Now it seems to me that you need this specific pub, with these specific indices, and one of the things I noticed about this pub was that it's a proper old spit-and-sawdust gaff. Do you know what that means? It means I can trace out a spell diagram with my foot and rabbit on about it until I can cast the claudication and grab my one absolute emergency backup plan-"

Siobhan reached out her hand as the spell caught, and within it appeared from nowhere the handle of a small orange suitcase. It was glowing.

"-and you need this one specific pub to do your dirty work, and I am not going to let that happen because I am Siobhan Jones, a wizard of Earth, and I'm going to do what I do best!"

"Go on a day trip?"

"Nope! Hide behind a table and wait for the noise to stop!"

"Whuh?"

Siobhan unzipped the bag, grabbed Wombat, and dived behind an upturned table.

The world went very briefly orange, and then brightest white.

---

Purple looked on as the Group Dynamic exploded in a gigantic ball of light, the top half of the front almost totally torn away. Whatever illusion there was disintegrated on contact with the light, and as soon as it did the parade of wizards poured into the pub. All the snakes were dead. The place stank of burnt beer and charred wood.

And up against what was left of the front wall, behind a table, her left arm crushed even as the right cradled a keening Wombat, Eats-The-Purple-Fruits found his friend.

"... Chick?"

Nothing.

"Chick?"

Still nothing.

And then,

blurry,

slowly,

waking,

as if from a very strange dream,

"mrrrstfgl?"

"SIOBHAN!"

"wha?"

"Siobhan, you're okay!" Purple dive-bombed the girl and sat on her shoulder, nibbling her bloodied ear with joy. "Well, you know, given values of okay that might include severe tissue damage, but you're not dead! Which is always a plus."

"oh. mkay. izzit gone?"

"Is what gone - oh skree, the Lone Power did this?"

"nuh. me. aaaaaaaall parta th'plan. ow. tryna... take over th'pub."

"Overshadow the pub?"

"yup. needed somethin for that tho."

"What?"

Siobhan grinned, slightly maniacally. "y'need a pub."

He couldn't help it. Purple just burst out laughing. It was probably the stress.

"wha happ'ning now, purple?"

"What? Um. No idea. We should probably talk to the local Area Senior. I mean, assuming they're even on the planet, there's been something happening involving Jupiter and it's all a big mess and you're covered in splinters and burns and you made a wisecrack."

"iss the british way. i go sleep now."

"Oh, skree, uh, no, Siobhan, you stay with me now. You stay right here, okay? You focus on my voice."

"sa nice voice."

"Yeah? First time for everything. C'mon, chick, stay with me..."

---

A week later, the press reported that a gas explosion had ripped through Princes Arcade, demolishing one thankfully-empty pub. It was a miracle nobody was hurt, apparently.

Siobhan saw it on the hospital telly, but she paid it no mind. Instead, she read through more of her Manual. There was a card from a schoolfriend, one from her Nana in Birmingham, and none from her more immediate family. They hadn't even been to visit. She was okay with that.

The little green parakeet sat on the windowsill, chirruping happily away. Every patient sort of understood it, in some way; the bird was trying to help them get better, in its own small way. They weren't sure quite how they knew, but they knew.

After lights-out that night, the bird hopped over to Siobhan as she lay in her bed, a discreet light spell cast on the pages of her book as she read. "You're going to be okay," Purple said.

"I believe you," said Siobhan Jones, a wizard of Earth.

So she closed her book, leaned back, closed her eyes, and believed.

---

This was the final chapter of General Theories, my ordealfic from earlier this year. Thank you for reading. =]

Thanks to Snowy the Sane Fangirl for beta-reading.

Here are my agent bios:
Name: Edward Stone (formerly known as Edward Eagle, but he changed it because he was being teased about another Eddie the Eagle.)

Species: Peculiar male

Home continuum: Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children

Age: Twenty

Appearance: A little taller than average, with dark hair and brown eyes. Usually likes to wear grey or black clothes.

Powers: As a peculiar, his peculiarity is that he can control water. However, he rarely does, because there isn’t much water in HQ and it doesn’t work in disguise. He usually uses either a rifle or his muggle-use wand as a weapon.

Personality: Edward is very cynical and pessimistic, and unwilling to tolerate other people’s failings. He’s convinced the Ironic Overpower is out to get him, although it’s unclear whether he’s serious about this. He enjoys winding his sister up, making snarky comments and reading. He can also be very pedantic and picks up on grammar mistakes a lot.

History: Edward was recruited from a Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children badfic, in which his sole purpose was to turn evil when the Sue ditched him for her LO. He’s been horrified about it ever since and is determined to save as many characters as he can from a similar fate – although he’d prefer to get a bit more time off from it! He’s been working for the PPC for a couple of years, and was recently transferred from Implausible Crossovers to the DMS.

Lust Object: Claims to have none, but can be seen looking in a certain way at Bellatrix Lestrange.

Department: Department of Mary Sues, Harry Potter Division.


Name: Katarina Eagle, known to everyone as Kat.

Species: ymbryne (pronounced imm-brinn; a woman who can turn into a bird and manipulate time and is charged with the protection of peculiar children)

Home continuum: Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children

Age: Twenty

Appearance: relatively short, with uncontrollable blonde hair which she tries and fails to keep in a neat bun, and blueish-green eyes. Prefers to wear practical clothes, but will dress up for special occasions.

Powers: As mentioned, she’s an ymbryne. She can create time loops, which only peculiars can enter; turn into a bird (an eagle, in her case) and manipulate people’s minds. Once again, this doesn’t work in disguise. Discovering that was rather a nasty shock for Kat, who was used to being able to rely on her powers. She’s been training ever since she was recruited into the PPC, but she’s still not great with weapons and prefers to leave the fighting to Edward. She carries a Muggle-use wand and a small dagger.

Personality: Kat can come across as quite hyper, as she has a short attention span and is easily bored. That’s not to say that she can’t act maturely when she wants to, though. She’s the more sentimental one of the two and has a soft spot for CAFs, which she prefers to save if possible. She’s secretly a bit of a fangirl, although she tries to hide it as much as possible.

History: Kat was recruited from the same badfic as her twin brother, in which she was the Sue’s best friend. She’s been working in the DMS since she joined the PPC, and hasn’t really seen Edward much since. Instead she’s been working with a more experienced agent, who has now moved on to teach another newbie.

Lust Object: Remus Lupin

Department: DMS, Harry Potter Division


Control prompt: the agents receive a mission.
Edward had just reached for a pack of cards when the console went [BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!].

“Typical,” he muttered, reaching the console before Kat had even managed to get up from the sofa where she was listening to music on her iPod.

He hit the console to stop the beeping, and then cringed as he saw the summary.

“You’ll like this, Kat!” he called

She removed her headphones and said “Do I detect a hint of sarcasm there?”

Edward nodded and began to read. “Princess of the unicorns – Remus Lupin Love Story”.

Kat’s neutral expression quickly turned to one of horror. “I’ve only heard the title, and I already hate this Sue. That must be a record.”

Edward continued with the actual summary, voice practically dripping with sarcasm.

“Hi! My name is Uma White! I love to sing, and dance! Also I am the last of the white family, because my mum and dad where killed by Voldy moldy, yeah, I hate him too, anyway, the only reason I’m an orphan, is because I have a power, a rare power! I have unicorn blood running threw my veins! Yep,…” At that stage the console ran out of space to display the full summary.

“Oh, no. This is truly awful,” Kat said. “I’m lost for words. Which is strange, as I’m speaking right now.”

“Well, they do call it badfic for a reason,” Edward replied, trying and failing to crack a smile. “So, that’s an overuse of exclamation marks, a run-on sentence and two confusions of homophones… and we’re only in the summary. Pack the Bleeprin: this is going to be a really awful mission.”

Kat nodded and stood up. As she did so, she said “And… Voldy Moldy? The only character who ever said that was Peeves, and… well, he’s Peeves. He shouldn’t be taken as a model of behaviour.” She grabbed about ten six-packs of Bleeprin and shoved them into her pink backpack.

Edward picked up the CAD, and said “Bet you this explodes within the first two chapters.”

“What shall we bet? Winner gets to kill the Sue?”

“You’re on,” said Edward, and the twins shook hands.


Random prompt: the agents encounter the Sunflower's Witness.
There was a knock on the RC door. Kat got up to open it, and Edward glanced up from his copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them to see who it was.

In the doorway, attempting to push past Kat and gain access to RC 841.720, was a short human woman with spiky red hair, carrying an armful of pamphlets.

“Hello,” she said, “I am one of the Sunflower’s Witnesses. I was wondering if you’ve heard that the Sunflower Official was burnt with a flamethrower by the other Flowers?”

Edward blinked. “Err… what?”

Kat shook her head, shooting a slightly panicked glance over her shoulder at Edward. “No, I haven’t heard that. How about you come in and tell me about it?”

She allowed the woman to enter the RC and they sat down at the small wooden table in the centre.

The Sunflower’s Witness handed Kat one of the pamphlets and stood up to give Edward another.

He took it and studied it carefully. In hand-drawn stick-figures, it depicted some Flowers and a flamethrower.

“Burning the SO with a flamethrower? Sounds like a good idea. Hey, Kat, do you know where I can get a flamethrower?”

Kat shook her head. “I hope you’re joking!” she said, her eyes darting about frantically as if looking for some way out.

The Sunflower’s Witness glared at Edward. “Do I detect disbelief? How dare you! Repent at once, or the spirit of the true SO will smite thee!”

Kat smiled sweetly, her eyes finally focussing directly on the Sunflower’s Witness. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean to offend anyone, he just needs time to process what you’re saying.”

Edward was furious. He was sure Kat didn’t really believe this crackpot conspiracy theory, but being treated like a toddler was infuriating.

“I’m thirsty,” continued Kat. “Would you like a drink… I don’t know your name?”

“Agent Shrike. No, thank you, I don’t need a drink.”

Nodding, Kat said “Okay. Edward, could you go and get me a glass of… water?” She winked as she said that, and Edward got her meaning at once.

He walked over to the right-hand side of the room, where his bed was, grabbed the water bottle he kept for emergencies. He also picked up his Muggle-use wand from beside the bed.

Then he walked quickly back, tucking the wand into his pocket, and handed the bottle to Kat.

She unscrewed the lid, and said “Are you sure you don’t want a sip, Agent Shrike?”

“If you insist…” the agent in question replied, taking the bottle.

Edward concentrated on the water for a moment, and it shot up directly into Agent Shrike’s eyes.

She blinked, confused, and tried to get the water out of her eyes.

Meanwhile, Edward pulled out his Muggle-use wand and said calmly “Stupefy!” A jet of red light appeared from the end of his wand, but Agent Shrike managed to lean to the side just in time.

Standing up quickly, the Sunflower’s Witness darted to the door, opened it a little, and slipped through it. “Repent!” she called, and then slammed the door behind her.

Edward gave a big sigh of relief once he was sure that the weird woman was gone.

“Good,” said Kat, “my plan worked.”

“Your plan? I was the one who executed it!” said Edward indignantly.

Kat sighed. “I can’t be bothered to argue. Let’s just agree to differ.”


My first mission will be to "Princess of the Unicorns" (https://www.quotev.com/story/10839811/Princess-of-the-unicorns-Remus-Lupin-Love-Story). You've already seen what my agents think of the summary, and if I need say any more: Voldemort kidnaps her. So he can marry her. To use her speshul unicorn powers.

...can you pass the Bleeprin?

First of all, massive thanks to Quincy for suggesting this. Second of all, this will be slightly different to my usual style of prompts, so we'll see how it goes. Instead of the usual prompt that will make most people think of a small story to write about, these prompts are aimed at shorter responses. So, here goes:

Prompt 1: Describe Death as a character.

Prompt 2: Describe an alien/ancient monument

Prompt 3: Describe an umbrella that is more than it seems.

Prompt 4: Describe something that should never have been.

Have fun!

Nova