#i love it they look great but for the love of god montressor

[spockandawe]

Hello! I've been kind of vanished, and I'm not confident I'm fully back yet, but I'm feeling noticeably less frazzled, and I'm ready to start catching up on the backlog of what I've been doing! To start with, I went mad with my new homeowner power and decided to paint a room. And then I decided to paint it a WILD color. And then I decided I also wanted to learn how to panel a wall. All by myself, with a hard deadline before my aunt gifted me a pile of old furniture that was going to take the room from empty to full. It was very cool and fun, but oh my god

Also, most of the paint work quality in my home is uhhhhh indifferent, so i had some fun soeed bumps like having to cut an old mirror off the back of my door and finding at least two color strata of it being painted into place (even after filling and sanding and priming and painting, i can still see the shadow, but that's a problem for future me to continue addressing). And I picked a REALLY dark green. I knew that taking a dark color back to white would need a lot of coats, but I.... did not consider that going from white to almost black would be equally bad, even with toned primer.

If I was doing this again, I think I would have attached the paneling after that first coat. But I think I was still underestimating how many coats it would take to darken bright white material, even with sanding for better grip. And the caulking almost broke me! My secret strategy to picking up new skills is always to underestimate how complicated they are, then power through on pride and stubbornness, but this tested me, haha

But I really love it! It's been done for a few weeks, so I've been dragging furniture into the room and steeling myself to drill holes for the curtain rod, and the Horrors have faded and I'm considering painting another guest room. I adore this color (salamander) to pieces, and I still have another gallon, but I'm not sure I want to commit to all this again. But.... the effect is soooooo restful, and it looks SO luxe, especially with the colored outlets and wall register. It's not going to be in my next paint project, but it may come up again!

[hayleysstark]

Hey, long time no see! I saw you were doing character asks so I decided to throw my hat in the ring! What do you gotta say about our moody space boy with a heart of gold, Jim Hawkins?

QUEENIE how i’ve missed you!!!! it’s good to see you again 💚 feel free to talk to me whenever!! and OF COURSE i will talk abt my son 🥺 my Good Boy 🥺 my one true lad 🥺

first impression: oh god he has an undercut there’s no way this kid is emotionally stable in any way    impression now: this kid is not emotionally stable in any way but i love him to pieces and i will not hear a word against him    favorite moment: my absolute favorite moment of all is when he says goodbye to Silver at the end!! you can really tell how much he’s grown and how much he’s learned on the journey, and you can see it’s been such a long and painful road, but he’s so much happier and better for it!! but also when he straight-up STABS SILVER IN THE LEG like what a batshit insane kid!!!! what a feral little creature!!! i love him idea for a story: ooh too many to count!! but on god lowkey i’d love to write a silly fluffy no-substance au where instead of a big grand space adventure, Jim and Silver meet because Silver is Jim’s mom’s new boyfriend and literally all of her boyfriends are always just these terrible assholes and Jim is convinced that Silver will be the same and then he’s not and ahh!!! i’m vibrating. also i actually have two multi-chapter au fics in the works right now so make of that what you will.              unpopular opinion: look i know we all wanted him to stay with Silver!! i know we all wanted to see them ride off into the stars and have all kinds of crazy adventures together, and it would have been great, but it would have still have been the wrong choice for his character arc. he HAD to go back home to Montressor, he HAD to go back to his mother, he had to go back and make something of his life AS IT ALREADY WAS, not ditch his old life for a new one. his return home was not only the strongest and most satisfying conclusion to his arc, it also brought things full circle - he has the option to leave, he’s not trapped in his hometown anymore, and he has a hundred reasons to go, but he chooses to stay. he chooses to stay where his father chose to leave. the BEAUTY. the POETICISM. im shaking.  favorite relationship: Jim and Silver, ofc!!! lowkey I also like his dynamic with Captain Amelia, I think they have a lot more in common than they realize, and I’d love to explore that in a fic someday!!       favorite headcanon: must i have “headcanons”???? is it not enough to feel unsaid truths about him deep in my soul??? (but lowkey i do hc that he’s really claustrophobic!! he likes to be outside and in high places as much as possible, so it makes sense that he’d hate to be physically confined.)

thank you for asking abt my one true lad!!!

send me a character      

[starryburglar-archive]

[ SEND TO GET A KISS FROM MY MUSE! ] || @solrsurfr​

{ 💙👀 - an accidental kiss . } // jim's never seen this place before in any of his storybooks. then again, they're all about space anyways, so naturally, they won't have any castles in them. but this is so... elegant. nothing like the plain houses they have back on montressor. he's not looking where he's going when he trips over a rug, landing on top of someone. a girl... a... very pretty girl. his eyes soon widen as he realizes that their lips are touching. this is awkward...

NOTHING IS BETTER THAN A DAY ALL FOR HERSELF, free from royal duties and from having to act as Princess Melody. Her social skills were improving at a snail's pace so her inner batteries drained out much faster than her mom's; whenever the family had visitors from other kingdoms, she did her best to remain regal and proper by her parents’ side for as long as humanly possible. 

But in free days, Melody could do as she pleased for 24 hours. Those are the best kind of days!! The princess spent all morning in her mermaid form, swimming with Pip and Dash in the outskirts of Atlantica alongside Flounder’s kids and with Sebastian watching nearby. After lunchtime, however, she opted to stay on land and walk around the kingdom, her home, and enjoy the festivities that were taking place today.

She must’ve been too immersed in the sights, the happy people, the different booths with food, flowers, games, the music playing for everyone to enjoy, that she didn’t notice a boy walking towards her. And before either of them knew it, now their lips met in a kiss, an unexpected kiss. Melody stepped back, pushing the boy away as she slowly recovered from the shock, the boy being as attractive as he was didn’t help. “I am so... So sorry, sir. I-- I should’ve paid more attention to where I’m going. Ah...” Great, now what? “How can I compensate you for this?” Awkward smiles, just what she needed to feel even more embarrassed. Melody, for the love of God, don’t start sweating now.

[dr-gloom]

The Makings of Greatness: Chapter 4

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairing: platonic logince, platonic moxiety, platonic anxeit, familial ThVi

Tags/Warnings (for this chapter): crazy architecture, lots of aliens, slight conflict, seafaring lingo

Ko-fi

AO3

Masterlist

Prologue  Ch 1  Ch 2  Ch 3  Ch 4  Ch 5  Ch 6  Ch 7  Ch 8  Ch 9  Ch 10  Ch 11  Ch 12  Ch 13  Ch 14  Ch 15  Ch 16  Ch 17

If Virgil thought his home at the Inn provided him a window to the galaxy, the space port was like blowing a giant hole in the wall. It was massive, nearly impossible to navigate. The entire thing existed as a hodge-podge of white buildings and layers of docks, lifts, catwalks and pathways all in the shape of a crescent just on the edge of Montressor’s orbit. From the planet’s surface, it looked like a moon permanently stuck in the crescent phase. The entire port glowed, giving off a faint light - just like a real moon - and ships of all sizes sailed to and fro overhead, either docking or taking off. Aliens from all corners of the galaxy milled through its pathways, the strangest of them all being Virgil, the only human in sight.

Virgil looked around in complete wonder as he got off the transport ship. Fellow passengers passed him by, giving him dirty looks. A heavy-set anthropomorphic frog woman with a small head and a strange furry pet in her arms, a man who almost looked human - if it weren’t for the anteater snout on his face or the leathery, bald skin covering his entire body -  a man wielding some sort of stringed instrument over his shoulder with tendrils for hair, grey flesh, and the nose of an elephant seal all passed him by as they exited the ship. He wasn’t focused on them, though. He was looking at the space port. It was like a sci-fi M.C. Escher artwork; Virgil’s eyes were dazed trying to decipher where one catwalk met another, where that pulley system was anchored, how those people below him reached the top pathways. If he looked closely, he could see the gaps between the structures, and the brief thought of falling into empty space unnoticed brought him back to attention.

He didn’t want to have to explain to his dad that the entire trip got cancelled because Logan wasted his money recovering Virgil from his float through deep space.

“Virgil? Virgil!” Logan called behind him, finally making his way off the ship. While Virgil had elected to bring nothing - what could he bring? His entire home burned down - Logan had brought several bags of varying sizes containing…. God knows what. He’d said, ‘you never know what you might need when traversing uncharted territory into the realm of piracy’. Whatever that meant.

Virgil turned just as Logan got off the ship and had to laugh. Logan was wearing possibly the weirdest get-up he had ever seen in his life, and that’s saying something. He was wearing some sort of space suit; an imposing, bulbous thing in mustard yellow that clanked and shifted with every step, a few buttons resting below the rim of the helmet and a large red… thing on the stomach. Logan pressed a button that released the lock on the glass faceplate, giving Virgil a forced kind smile. “Well, if nothing else, this shall be an… opportunity to get to know each other, I suppose.”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Look, let’s just find the ship. This place is a fucking maze.” He starts walking, Logan trailing after him silently. Virgil shrugs it off. He’s only being nice to me because of my dad… And because I have the map. He huffs and starts walking faster.

“Second berth on your right.” The robot calls down from the ladder he’s climbing.

“You can’t miss it.” comments the stout, red alien steadying the ladder.

Virgil gives a grateful smile. “Thanks.” He turns to descend the staircase, leaving Logan to catch up. Logan huffs and hurries down the stairs, hesitant to lose Virgil in the crowds.

“It’s the suit, isn’t it?” Virgil doesn’t answer. “I should’ve never listened to that two-headed sailsman. This one said it fit, that one said it was my color… I just get so flustered in those situations, I suppose. I’ve never been good with handling people.” Virgil stops, and Logan nearly runs into him. He stops just short of the teen and looks up. “Ah, yes, here we are. The I.M.G. Nation.”

It was a nice-looking ship, with a smooth cream-colored body and amber trimmings. Large solar sails rose high above them, held aloft by amber-and-gold-plated masts. Virgil climbed the catwalk up to the ship, grinning. “Whoa…”

Pulley systems delivered crates onto the deck, directed by crew and pulled into place before being released from their ropes. All around crew bustled about, maintaining the deck, managing supplies, and following directions to prepare to embark. Virgil stopped short as a crew member bustled by, taking extra precautions to make sure he wasn’t in anyone’s way.

“Stow those casks forward! Heave together, now!” A man called from the base of the main mast. His lean and fit form was made of stone, but not in the sense that his body was a collection of stones pressed together; it was as if his entire body was one large stone with chiseled edges, somehow granted the ability to move and flex and bend. He wore a couple medals pinned to the breast of his blue coat and a tricorn hat atop his head, completed with cream-colored pants and black boots.

Virgil turned in a circle, watching crew members move about the masts and use the ropes. “This is so cool…” He took a couple steps backwards, bumping right into someone. Virgil flinched, spinning around to apologize only to be met with what appeared to be a very angry… blob? Slug?

The blob alien had many… tentacles? Snouts? Along its pale body, holes cut into its vest to allow for them to rest freely. A few more protruded from its face where a mouth and nose would be. “S-sorry, I didn’t-” The alien let out what Virgil could only think of as farting noises from its…. okay, guess those are snouts? And raised its fists as if declaring a fight. Virgil took a step back, eyes widening. Not even on board for five minutes and he’s already gotten in trouble.

Logan walks up behind him. “Excuse me, ah…” Logan blew a few raspberries, filled his mouth with air and pushed his cheeks in to release it, and made a few armpit-fart sounds. The alien stared at him for a moment before letting out the farty equivalent of a laugh and flapping its hand in the universal “oh stop, you!” gesture, slithering away.

Virgil blinked. What just happened?

“I’m fluent in Flatula, Virgil. It is an incredibly complex language that takes years to master. I studied it in high school.” Logan informed the human with a smug grin before continuing to cross the deck.

“Flatula, huh?... Cool.” He grinned and followed after the astrophysicist.

Logan walked up to the stone man, extending his hand. “Good morning, captain. Is everything in order?”

The stone man took his hand with a soft smile. “Indeed, it is! But I’m not the captain. The captain’s aloft.” He gestures up to the masts, Virgil and Logan looking up.

A cat-like man swings from a rope effortlessly, landing along a supporting beam and running across it before grabbing another rope and using the momentum of the swing to jump to the deck, landing on his feet with an elated cry.

He was lithe, of average height, but everything about him was pure muscle and power. His jaw was angular, almost small, and he had a broad nose that ended with a pink, leathery tip and nostrils, much like a real cat. His ears were wide and pointed, set higher on his head than a human’s, his chestnut hair styled perfectly side-swept and voluminous, and he wore a red-and-gold jacket, cream colored pants, and white gloves. He crossed his arms, grinning at the newcomers before making his way over, speaking in a regal tone.

“Mr. Picani! I have checked this ship from stem to stern and-” His tone softens, “it’s spot-on, as usual. Can you get nothing wrong?” He grins at the stone man, his first mate.

Picani tips his hat. “You flatter me, captain!”

The captain moves on to Logan and Virgil, pausing as he takes in Logan’s suit. “Ah… Doctor Abbott, I presume?” He speaks louder, slower, as if he expects Logan to be of a lower intellect. “Excuse y-” The captain knocks on the glass plate, grinning. “Hello~! Can you hear me?” Logan scoffs and pushes the glass plate up from where it had fallen during his walk to the ship. “Yes, I can! Stop that; it’s highly fatuous.” The captain puts a hand to his chin, grinning as he watches Logan struggle to get the helmet off and fail.

“If I may, this suit works better when it’s turned to the right,” he grabs the red thing on the suit’s stomach, turning it to the right. A plug pops out, “and plugged in.” He grabs the plug and forcefully turns Logan around, plugging it into the bag attached to the suit’s back. “There you go! You’re welcome.”

The helmet comes off with a pop and Logan turns to glare at the captain. “I can manage my own equipment; your assistance was not necessary.” The captain takes his hand and shakes it, looking around almost as if he were bored, if it weren’t for the self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

“I’m captain Roman Amamoto, I’ve had a few run-ins with the Protean armada, but ah! I won’t bore you with my scars.” He winks and Logan huffs in annoyance. Roman moves to Mr. Picani, nudging him with his elbow. “You’ve met my first mate, Mr. Picani. Sterling, tough, dependable, honest, brave, and true.”

Mr. Picani laughs lightly. “Please, captain!”

“Oh shut it, Picani, you know I don’t mean a word of it.” From the grins the two share, that must be some inside joke of theirs. Logan clears his throat.

“While I’d hate to interrupt this… lovely banter, may I introduce Virgil Shae?” He wraps an arm around Virgil, drawing him closer to the adults and pulling his attention away from the hustle and bustle of the ship. “Virgil is the one who found the tre-”

Roman clamps a clawed hand over Logan’s mouth. “Doctor, please.” Two nearby crewman who were evidently listening in go back to working. Roman sighs. “I’d like a word.”

The door of the stateroom shuts, and Roman turns the lock, turning to regard the two men standing before his desk. “Doctor… to run your mouth about a treasure map in front of this crew shows a level of simple-mindedness that borders on the imbecilic. And I mean that in a very caring way.” He grins almost mockingly. Virgil has to stifle a laugh. Who knew someone would actually school Logan in something? Who knew there was someone out there who could make Logan look like an idiot?

“Imbecilic? That’s foolish, I’ve-”

“May I see the map, please?”

Logan looks at Virgil. Virgil shrugs helplessly. Logan sighs and gestures to Roman. Virgil grimaces slightly, taking the orb out of his pants pocket and tossing it to Roman. “Here.” Roman catches it effortlessly, turning it over in his claws to inspect it with interest. He grins. “Fascinating.” He levels a serious look at Virgil as he turns to lock the orb in a small chest, hidden in his armoire. “Mr. Shae, in the future you’ll either address me as Captain or Sir, is that clear?”

Virgil scoffs and rolls his eyes. Roman’s ears perk up. “Mr. Shae.”

Virgil ducks his head, glaring. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Roman locks the armoire and turns back to the others. “This is going to remain under lock and key unless in use. And, doctor, again.” He leans into Logan’s space, getting in his face. “With the greatest possible respect; zip your howling screamer.” Logan scoffs indignantly.

“Captain, I assure you, I-”

Roman sits at his desk, fiddling with a drafting compass. “Let me make this as simple as possible. I. Don’t much care. For this crew. You hired.” He points the compass at Logan accusingly and Logan crosses his arms, eyebrow raised. “They’re… How did I phrase it, Picani? I said something rather creative before coffee this morning…”

Emile’s eyes drift towards the ceiling as if the memory will surface on the wood. “‘A ludicrous parcel of driveling galoots’, sir.”

Virgil raises an eyebrow. Wow, what?

Roman grins. “There you go! Poetry.”

Logan purses his lips, gripping the table. “Now, see here-!”

Roman stands over Logan, smirking. “Doctor, I’d love to chat - tea, cake, the whole nine - but I’ve got a ship to launch, and you’ve,” He flicks Logan’s suit with a claw, “got an outfit to buff up.” He straightens back up and crosses his arms behind his back, all business once again. “Mr. Picani, please escort these two neophytes to the galley. Mr. Shae will be working for the cook, Mr. Moran.”

Virgil looks up from where he’d been messing with some swinging wall decoration, his hand dropping to his side. “Wait, what? The cook?”

Taglist: @the5thcoy @dailysandersidesaudoodles @hungry-red-panda @neonb-fly @chemically-imbalanced-romance @punsterterry @dead4sevenyears @metaphoricalpluto2 @tanyatoloni1334

[nutwit]

5, 14, and 32 for the dnd ask meme, please!

o shit another one ok!

in the words of the good red man, here a we go i think i said that last time actually oh well

5. Favorite NPC

Oh that’s a tough one.  I think it’s tied between Bernard Tripsocket, gnome conspiracy theorist, Julian Montressor, the dapper physicist pirate captain of the Stern played by Christopher Jackson, and Mzumiel (Zoomy), a three-city-block-long beta fish eel monster, demon lord of the fourth column, master of the ethereal and lover of model trains, the billion-eyed and long-mouthed, and owner of the most soothing telepathic southern accent this side of the underdark.

this next one’s a doozy so its under the cut

14.  Introduce the other parties you’ve played in / DMed

I’ve DMed for just one other party, and played in just one other party too.  And technically speaking, the party i DMed for was part of the same story as all the characters in the last answer?  Here let me explain.

There are three parties:  the CFRP, the Freelancers, and the Librarians.  The CFRP stands for Center for Firmament Research and Protection, and they’re the party I outlined last #asked and answered.

The Freelancers are a team of legendary heroes *snrk* who do adventures for hire.  They’re honestly a more traditional dnd party, but we play the freelancer campaign in dungeon world, so fuck you.

Helios Amastacia, high elf paladin.

Remember Venus Amastiacia from the last post?  Her older sibling has been out looking for their wayward sister for years.  Helios is built like a brick shit house and bares the power of Tyr, the one-armed god of tactics and war.  They’re by far the most level-headed of the bunch.  Strong parent vibes but also strong sibling vibes, and also just generally very strong.

Tex McCree, human fighter.

Jesus Fucking Christ this man.  He’s fucked his way across half the continent, at some point toppled some kind of feudal lineage, accidentally got a lordship, peaced out of that and found A Shotgun, somehow, sweet-talked his way into bed with the chairwoman of the Shatterpeak Council (Keegan’s mom), he’s a mess!  He’s a mess!  He got grossed out by touching a dead body like a week ago!

Mira the Blade, human thief.

She’s the best thief in the world.  No, really.  I’m not just saying that, it’s important for her character arc.  She’s even stolen from the Amastacia vaults, which she and Helios have laughs about sometimes.  She likes to push the limits of her abilities and wouldn’t be caught dead in a bathing suit for a number of unspecified reasons.  Very gay, extremely gay.  Has an as-of-yet unidentified link with Nikolai Hoobluff from the CFRP campaign.  :3c

Hollik Bannagammer Merrilin, gnome bard/barbarian.

Baby boy.  He just wants to write good songs about his heroes, Mira and Helios.  Him and Tex are very good chaotic friends who have never caused problems ever for the party in any circumstances.  One time he bought approximately 2000 dollars worth of fish from a butcher at 4 in the morning.  His catchphrase is, “Hello, new friends!”  Also if you hurt his friends he will kill you.

Sunbeam Talbot, halfling ranger.

So this one’s fun.  In the second arc of the Freelancer campaign, before Talbot joins up, they get hired by Hollik’s brother Bernard to steal his notes back from the museum he recently got fired from because his notes prove some big conspiracy or whatever.  Talbot happened to work at that museum, and Mira tried to steal his ID to get in, but Talbot clocked her before she got away.  So now that the museum’s been destroyed by ancient death roots from beyond time (don’t ask), he’s hunting her down to figure out what the fuck is going on.  Also, in the CFRP campaign, he’s the head of the CFRP. 

So, for those of you keeping track, the timeline is super convoluted and intriguing.  I have a lot of reveals I really really want to get to, so hopefully we’ll be able to start playing again once school lets out after next week.

So that’s the Freelancers.

The Librarians are a group of relic hunters brought together by a mysterious pair of brothers to recover a mirror from an ancient ruin that totally isn’t made of rebar and concrete for undisclosed reasons.  We haven’t played much with them because Katie’s been busy but I’m totally in love with her world.

Alys al’Damo, half-elf wizard.

Alys is off looking for the chosen one to guide them on their quest for something something.  She doesn’t really know who or what she’s looking for.  All she has to go on is vague prophecy and tarot-like character descriptions that she adheres to vehemently.  She also has a very good hawk familiar and specializes in fire magic.

Vix Sen, half-orc bard.

Vix is a very strong very sexy fashion designer.  She’s the Edna Mode of dungeoneering.  She’s designed turtlenecks for the king of all turtles probably.  Mostly she spends her time nowadays casting three thunderwaves in a minute jesus fuck Vix please I like having EARS.

Jedediah Brookes, human warlock.

Doctor Brookes is very dirty and greasy and very nice.  He has a secret doctor’s office in the seedy part of town where he stitches people up for free if they’re down on their luck, but in secret, like batman.  But surgery doesn’t explain his witch bolts.  Turns out his dad is a god of healing or something?  And Jed, being great, begrudgingly made a pact with him to be his emissary on earth.

Cederus Dur-Barundeaunt, dwarf cleric.

This boy is mine!  Cederus is a very old, very wise dwarf who’s spent most of his life in the clergy.  He’s that sort of old man style rascal where your pop pop would smuggle you a sweet when your mom said no sweets.  The most important part of his characterization though, and the reason I love playing him so much, is because of a bit of worldbuilding I did with Katie.  Dwarves in this world calcify as they get old.  Cederus is getting on in years, and two parts have already started to turn to limestone:  his upper leg, and his eyes.  He is totally blind and relies on his familiar to see.

I had to do some homebrewing with Katie to make Cederus work right because clerics aren’t supposed to have familiars and I had to start at level 2 for this campaign.  He’s got an extremely thick french accent.  I love him.

AND FINALLY

32.  Your favorite role to play (tank, healer, etc)

I haven’t played many roles actually (I’m the DM it’s my curse), but honestly, I don’t even think of characters like that at this point.  I’m not really very interested in playing any particular “role“ over the others, because I’m not really into that kind of play?  The numbers and the mechanics are a lot of fun, sure, but the reason I play DnD is to write a good story with my friends!  I’d much rather play a character with a motivation or theme that I’m really into than fill a party role, although roles can be useful in coming up with motivations!

THIS WAS SO BIG IM SO SORRY and also very late!  but if anyone is interested in more of this, let me know!

[shewritesforgod]

Six "Must-Read" Short Stories

1. A Rose for Emily

It was written by the American author William Faullkner and was first published in 1930. It starts with the tale of a rich single woman, Emily, who is a mysterious recluse, frequently thought about but little-seen, living alone in a big home, rarely socializing. An old black woman is her only friend. Emily fails to have a street address when the position is first established in the community and refuses to pay taxes; a former mayor has formally released her of her tax obligations, but younger officials want to impose them. Occasionally, those who walk by her house see her on the ground floor, and she seems to have sealed up the top deck, but for certain, nothing else can be told. The protagonist is a part of the citys council, one of many suspicious people who come to snoop as Emily passes away. In the funeral-goers, the old black worker, now very dead, lets softly and then leaves. The stuffy, moldy, grand old house is visited by the writer and other officials and a single upstairs door is closed. Forcing the entrance, they discover inside a bedroom that looks like a gentlemans occupants, with discarded suits, a hairbrush, cufflinks spread out to be put on, but all corroded by time and coated in a dust film. The story kind of reflects how people perceive happiness. Some wanted to relieve every moment that made them happy to somehow feel that kind of emotion again. Sometimes we felt like the things that made us happy are also the things that make our lives worth living. Emily cannot be blame for she just wants to be loved and feel contentment. At the end of the day, letting go and accepting what is present would still be based on our decisions. It is only ourselves that could decide what will really give us genuine happiness.

2. The Cask of Amontillado

It is about a man make revenge on a friend who, he believes, has insulted him. The storys narrator, Montresor, tells an unspecified person, who knows him very well, of the day he took his revenge on his friend, Fortunato. Because of numerous insults and injuries. Montresor plots to murder his friend during Carnival, while the man is drunk and unconscious. Montresor tells Fortunato he has obtained some rare vintage Amontillado wine and lures him into a private wine-tasting excursion. Montresor brings the drunk Fortunato into his family catacombs. He chains Fortunato to a wall deep in the catacombs, then bricks up the opening. Fortunato screams for release, but Montresor only mocks him. Fortunatos body remains undiscovered for fifty years. The story is told by Montressors lips, the murderer who seeks revenge in the near future. From this angle, I appreciated how Poe and many of his others approached this research. To achieve his goals, the reader gets to see how the killer is thought, preparing, and organizing. Nevertheless, the more credible source is not Montressor. Although I believe hes frank with his actions and thoughts, he never addresses how he doesnt really seem to want to keep up with his challenge once hes trapped his buddy fully. We can see some of Montressors reluctance in paying back Fortunato, but it never emerges from the conscious thoughts of Montressor. The in-depth look at the reflections of Montressor helps connect the reader with the uncertainty about the future of Fortunato

3. Hills Like White Elephant

It is about a man and woman drinking beer while they are waiting for a train in a train station in Spain. The man is attempting to convince the woman to get an abortion. The man tries to to reassure the woman that the procedure is safe and promise that hell be right beside her the whole time, and it is the only solution to their problems. The girl tries using the things around her and the landscape on the other side of the tracks as a metaphor for the life they could have as a family. The man still pretends to be supportive, and tells that he really wants abortion, until the girl commands him to stop talking. Momentarily silenced, the two drink their last beer before the American carries their bags to the platform in preparation for the train soon on its way. Ernest Hemingways short story Hills Like White Elephants explores the polemical issue of abortion through a wandering young couples character development. Even though the word abortion is not mentioned anywhere in the novel, Hemingways strong use of atmosphere and meaning is irrefutably known. Originally, the narrator known only as the American exploits the meeker and soft-spoken Jig before she utilizes her feminine guiles to outwit him. The use of sarcastic sarcasm, subtle conversational style and verbal intelligence by Jig demonstrates her dominance over her male partner. Going further into the White Hills meaning, one can picture the hills reflecting the womb of a pregnant woman in a metaphorical way. On the other side of the valley, the hills are situated that can only be seen from a distance. The reflection of the remote hills may suggest that the girl finds it a distressing choice between the dry country and the hills. The dry land with the guy is also an abortion, and the hills imply conception, leaving the man. Its also clear that the guy never sees the slopes. He ignores the idea that it is impossible to choose abortion. Finally, the white color in this tale symbolizes the purity of the unborn child.

4. God Sees the Truth, But Waits

The story revolves around a man who was sent to prison for a murder he didnt commit. It implies a general theme in lined with faith and biblical message about what you need to do when the world is up against you. Ivan Aksionov is falsely accused and got imprisoned for 26 years for a crime he did not commit but he still puts his trust in God and still surrender everything and what will happen in His hands. The main character, Aksionov, was innocent in his prison life. What I like most about is that in every circumstance he has faced, he chooses to pray. Putting him in jail renders him godly. He didnt try to run, either. I might tell that Semyonich, deep inside him, lived his free life with remorse. In the first place, I believe Semyonich wants to kill Aksionov because hes jealous of being wealthy. I love the story like that. The occurrences are obvious from the very beginning of the story as well. The title means that, from the very beginning of every case, God knows everything that happens, but he is waiting for the right time to reveal the truth of what actually happened. We just have to wait for the right time to realize what God is actually doing for us. The intentions are not to harm us, but to educate us about lifes ideals. I was born as a Catholic not to keep hate in my bones, but only love and forgiveness. While it is valid that a person cannot step forward unless he / she forgives, in this tale I cant help but feel the injustice of life. It seems that only God can know the truth, it is to him alone we must appeal, and from him alone expect mercy. The only thing we can do in the midst of suffering caused by evil is to appeal to the mercy of God and believe that God knows and is in our suffering with us. The suffering of God with his people in Jesus Christ on the cross is one of the great truths and great mysteries of Christianity.

5. A Father

It is about a father, Musatov, who is blessed to have a kind hearted and dedicated children. Musatov is a drunkard and always asking money from his sons, and these sons always lend him with what he asked. His children indulge their father, Musatov, continually, even though he doesnt deserve it. Anton Chekhov (1860-1904) was a Russian novelist and playwright, regarded by many as one of the best short story writers in literature history. Chekhov was also a successful doctor, but his true passion was to write. He was quoted as saying Medicine is my wife and my life is literature. A tragic parent, Old Musatov, is fortunate to have children that are very committed. Musatov is a drunkard who continually asks for money from his family, which they offer him over and over again. Musatov expresses drunkly to one of his daughters, Boris, the gratitude and admiration he experiences for all his children, while at the same time admitting his own shortcomings. The children tend to indulge their dad. This short story simply shows how a father loves his children unconditionally despite of him being an alcoholic and imperfect as a father. This could give the readers a realization that it is not only our mothers that we appreciate more but we must also show appreciation to our fathers as well because at the end of the day they are still the ones thatll protect us at all costs, we will still run back to them if we get and hurt and they are also our number one fan.

6. The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World

It is about the changes brought by a dead man on an entire village. It implies the lesson of how a great person used his power to change others, to inspire them to be better, to make them want be the person theyve always dreamed of. The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World frequently examines one dead mans transformative effect on a community as a whole. This claim that a really nice person can change people, motivate them to be different, make them want to be exceptional. It is important that the change of the villager originates completely from within in this novel. After all, the dying man is dead, which ensures that the people are themselves accountable for the changes they make.

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New Post has been published on https://literarytechniques.org/foreshadowing-in-literature/

Foreshadowing in Literature

Foreshadowing in literature is used to create suspense or mood, to hint at upcoming events or plot twists, or to reveal important character traits. Foreshadowing can be created by the narrator or the characters themselves, through descriptions and dialogue. Foreshadowing can also be created by shifting the plot structure of a narrative and using flashbacks or flash-forwards to relay important information about past or future events to the audience.

10 Examples of Foreshadowing in Literature

To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee

“The weather was unusually warm for the last day of October. We didn’t even need jackets. The wind was growing stronger, and Jem said it might be raining before we got home. There was no moon. The street light on the corner cast sharp shadows on the Radley house… We turned off the road and entered the schoolyard. It was pitch black.”

Scout’s description of her and Jem’s journey to the school for the Halloween pageant creates a mood of suspense and fear, foreshadowing the fateful events that will come later. The night is very dark with no moon; the only shadows come from streetlights which cause shadows on Boo Radley’s house, the source of the neighborhood children’s legends and fears. Scout and Jem are having a difficult time walking to the school because it is so dark, and Jem didn’t bring a flashlight because he didn’t realize it would be so dark. When they leave the pageant, they are the last ones out of the school, and the night is even darker. Footsteps follow the children, and eventually they are attacked by Bob Ewell who finally makes good on his threats to get back at Atticus for embarrassing him in court.

Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

“A great event in my life, the turning point of my life, now opens on my view. But, before I proceed to narrate it, and before I pass on to all the changes it involved, I must give one chapter to Estella. It is not much to give to the theme that so long filled my heart.”

Pip narrates his tale from the present so most of the novel is told in a flashback format. Here, Pip is relating the turning point of his life, foreshadowing that there are many changes that are upcoming soon, right after he gets through discussing Estella again. The tone which Pip uses here to tell the reader about the upcoming events foreshadows that Pip’s relationship with Estella does not work out, and that the changes he undergoes aren’t necessarily pleasant ones.

The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allan Poe

“The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was a point definitely settled–but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong. It must be understood that neither by word nor deed had I given Fortunato cause to doubt my good will. I continued, as was my wont, to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my smile now was at the thought of his immolation.”

This chilling opening by the narrator, Montressor, to the audience reveals a terrifying foreshadowing of vengeance and murder for Fortunato. Montressor reveals that Fortunato has insulted him in a way that can never be forgiven, and he has decided to make sure that Fortunato will never insult him– or anyone else– again. He lays out in cryptic detail that he has managed to keep Fortunato from suspecting his true intentions, but that he has waited for the moment to get his revenge. This scene sets the mood of the story, and foreshadows Fortunato’s unfortunate untimely demise.

The Scarlet Ibis by James Hurst

“At that moment the bird began to flutter, but the wings were uncoordinated, and amid much flapping and a spray of flying feathers, it tumbled down, bumping through the limbs of the bleeding tree and landing at our feet with a thud. Its long, graceful neck jerked twice into an S, then straightened out, and the bird was still. A white veil came over the eyes and the long white beak unhinged. Its legs were crossed and its clawlike feet were delicately curved at rest. Even death did not mar its grace, for it lay on the earth like a broken vase of red flowers, and we stood around it, awed by its exotic beauty.”

James Hurst explores the psyche of brothers in this short story, which features the unnamed narrator and his younger, disabled brother named Doodle. Doodle was born with a weak heart, and was predicted to not survive, let alone be able to walk, run, go to school, or do anything else little boys are supposed to be able to do. The narrator makes it his mission to help Doodle overcome these obstacles, partly because of his own shame at having a brother who isn’t “normal.” Throughout the story, the color red is used as a motif to mirror Doodle’s own red appearance as a baby, and whenever he strains with physical exertion. The scarlet ibis itself symbolizes and foreshadows Doodle’s death. It is a bird that has traveled an unlikely journey far from its home in the tropics, much farther than it should have gone, and in death, it is still beautiful and graceful, with a curved neck and bent legs. This death scene of the ibis, coupled with Doodle’s fascination with the bird, foreshadow Doodle’s own death later on.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson

“‘Poor Harry Jekyll,’ he thought, ‘my mind misgives me he is in deep waters! He was wild when he was young; a long while ago to be sure; but in the law of God, there is no statute of limitations. Ay, it must be that; the ghost of some old sin, the cancer of some concealed disgrace: punishment coming, pede claudo, years after memory has forgotten and self-loved condoned the fault.'”

In the second chapter of Stevenson’s cryptic novella, Mr. Utterson, Dr. Jekyll’s lawyer, is becoming increasingly worried about his client’s well-being. His friend Richard Enfield had already imparted a story to him about a man named Edward Hyde trampling a young child in the streets and paying £100 to avoid a scandal. The check he provided for the £100 was signed by Dr. Henry Jekyll. In these lines, Utterson is worried that Dr. Jekyll is being blackmailed by Mr. Hyde for some sin he committed many years ago; however, these words also serve as foreshadowing because Dr. Jekyll is in trouble because he has fallen in love with the darker side of himself that he repressed many years ago. This darker side is allowed to come out with a special potion as Mr. Hyde, which is slowly taking over Dr. Jekyll completely.

The Lord of the Flies by William Golding

“‘Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill!’ said the head. For a moment or two the forest and all the other dimly appreciated places echoed with the parody of laughter. ‘You knew, didn’t you? I’m part of you? Close, close, close! I’m the reason why it’s no go? Why things are what they are?'”

Simon has an imaginary conversation with a pig’s head, which the other boys have erected on a stick. It is covered with flies, and Simon begins to call the head “The Lord of the Flies.” The head’s conversation with Simon reveals that Simon is starting to understand the truth about what is happening to the young boys stranded on the island: there is no real beast that is chasing them. Instead, they are battling against each other. The true beast is inside them all, and it will destroy them. Simon’s conversation with the head foreshadows his own death, Piggy’s death, and Jack’s savage behavior which turns the rest of the boys against Ralph.

The Giver by Lois Lowry

“Almost every citizen in the community had dark eyes. His parents did, and Lily did, and so did all of his group members and friends. But there were a few exceptions: Jonas himself, and a female Five who he had noticed had the different, lighter eyes. No one mentioned such things; it was not a rule, but was considered rude to call attention to things that were unsettling or different about individuals.”

Jonas and Lily have just met Gabe, the newchild their father has just brought home to take care of until he is able to thrive better. Jonas and his sister Lily both notice Gabe’s eyes, and how rare they are in the community. These eyes foreshadow something very special about Gabe and Jonas. In fact, the Receiver of Memory of the community also has the same pale eyes, and Jonas is later chosen to become the new Receiver of Memory. Their eyes connect the three in a way that is special and different from the community, especially as Jonas discovers that he can give memories to Gabe. This leads Jonas to form a strong connection to Gabe, and to save him from the community before they can “release” him, or send him to Elsewhere.

A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini

“‘I want you to take me to your cinema,’ Mariam said now. ‘I want to see the cartoon. I want to see the puppet boy.’

With this, Mariam sensed a shift in the atmosphere. Her parents stirred in their seats. Mariam could feel them exchanging looks.”

Up to this moment in the novel, Jalil, Mariam’s father, and Nana, Mariam’s mother have been portrayed in black and white, good and evil. Jalil’s visits to Mariam are a saving grace from her mother, who treats Mariam with utter disdain. However, when Mariam finally makes a request from her father– and especially one to be seen in public with him– the atmosphere shifts and foreshadows that something has irrevocably changed in their relationship from this request. The next day, Jalil does not come to get Mariam, and she walks down to Herat. She soon discovers that her father is ashamed of her, and by leaving her mother’s kolba, she sends her into such a depression that Nana hangs herself.

The Monkey’s Paw by W.W. Jacobs

“‘It had a spell put on it by an old Fakir,’ said the Sergeant Major, ‘ a very holy man. He wanted to show that fate ruled people’s lives, and that those who interfered with it did so to their sorrow. He put a spell on it so that three separate men could each have three wishes from it.'”

This section from Jacobs’ short story reveals both foreshadowing and theme for the story. The monkey’s paw is bewitched, and is intended to grant three wishes to three men. While Sergeant Major Morris is obviously perplexed by the paw and tries to warn Mr. White against using it, he also tells the White family that the intentions of the old fakir who put a spell on it was to show that people can’t interfere with fate. Mr. White wishes for £200, and while he receives it, it is because his son Herbert is killed in a machine accident at work. His next wish, to have Herbert back, results in a strange knocking at the door and Mr. White wishing for his son to be dead again. They know that the real Herbert would not have been at the door; they could not change their own fate.

The Lady or the Tiger? by Frank R. Stockton

“The girl was lovely, but she had dared to raise her eyes to the loved one of the princess; and, with all the intensity of the savage blood transmitted to her through long lines of wholly barbaric ancestors, she hated the woman who blushed and trembled behind that silent door.”

In this excerpt from Stockton’s cliffhanger short story, he uses foreshadowing to hint at what the princess’ choice will be. She comes from a line of semi-barbaric people, and her father, the King, is especially barbaric in his tournaments of judgment. The fact that the narrator continues to focus more time on these elements that are mixed in the princess’ bloodline gives a clear indication that she likely chose the door with the tiger and watched her lover being ripped to shreds rather than allow him to be happy with any other woman but herself.

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Cask of Amontillado Continued

My grandfather lay on his deathbed, his breath rattling in his chest. He wheezed and groaned often, his face sallow with pain. I knew he didn't have much time left.

“Come closer, my boy,” he said, his voice was barely a whisper. He pressed a deed that was yellow with age and frayed at the edges into my hand. He had claimed the property was priceless and been handed down from man to man from generation to generation, starting with my great-great-grandfather. Grandfather had had it given to him by his father, and his father had been gifted with the deed by his father. My own father had died many years ago in a car crash, so my grandpa had deemed the property to now fall into my hands.

I couldn't visit the land until many months later. In between taking care of my pregnant wife and working long hours at the office, I didn't have the time. Or the money either, for that manner.

One night, a few months after my grandfather had passed, my wife had insisted on my going to look at the estate.

“Well,” she figured, “you should do it before the baby is born so we don't have to travel with him. And if you don't like the property, we could always sell it and put the money into savings. It would help.” She says, absentmindedly running her hand over her round belly. After much planning and getting numerous affirmations from her, I decided to go.

The flight was long, the tickets costly. The surly man seated next to me fell asleep while leaning on my shoulder. Twice. A baby whined and carried on incessantly while their mother cooed at them in an attempt to soothe them back to sleep. Nothing unusual.

Once we landed I called my wife and talked to her at length, promising to take plenty of pictures and that I would call her every day. I exited the airport and hailed a cab. We sped off, grape orchards and olive trees whizzing past quickly.

The property itself wasn't much. The grass had not been trimmed in quite some time now and so it came up far past my hip.

The house was barely visible through all the foliage, but what I could make it was disappointing. It must have been grand at some point, with a large sloping roof and grand veranda. However, the house had fallen into disrepair. The wood looks green with rot and when I placed my full weight on the stairs leading up to the veranda floor, they collapsed beneath me. Somehow though, I managed to make it all the way to the front door and, against my better judgment, I stepped inside.

The floorboard reeked of decay and mildew. The yellowed paint was peeling off of the walls and a thin layer of dust seemed to cover every available surface. I sigh.

“Couldn't I have gotten a valuable heirloom,” I think to myself, stifling a frustrated groan. I probably couldn't even sell the place if I wanted to.

Goosebumps raise on my arm, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. It felt as if I was being watched although I knew there couldn't possibly be anyone around. A low, keening moan sounded throughout the house.

“Amontillado?” The ghastly voice calls. Fear glues my feet to the ground.

A ghostly figure, a figure of a man in chains, appears before me.

“Amontillado?” He asks again, bloodshot eyes locking onto my own.

I open my mouth to respond, but my voice fails me.

The ghost, eyes glinting with what seems to be recognition, begins to howl. “Montressor!” He accuses.

“I-I have no idea who that is,” I croak out, scrambling backward until my back is to the rough surface door.

“Do not think of me as a fool, Montessor. I know the face of the man who wronged me!”

Without taking my eyes from the apparition, my hand roves frantically over the door in order to find the knob. Once I find it, I try turning the handle but it seems like it's rusted shut. The spirit glides closer and closer until we come face to face. His breaths are harsh, ragged with fury but they don't even ruffle my hair. All I feel is cold, cold, and colder.

“For the love of God!” I shout, begging for mercy.

“Yes,” he replies slowly with a malevolent grin, chains clanging, “for the love of God.”

Everything goes black.