The PPC Posting Board - Latest posts

I'd like to adopt the Mini-Aragogs Gileroy, Herminoe and Weazly.

This review probably isn't going to be very great, since I started this season over a year ago, before I was reviewing on the Board literally every piece of fiction I consumed. I therefore wasn't looking at it from a very thoughtful or critical standpoint until near the end of the season. And yes, it does take me over a year to finish a one-season television series sometimes. It's my least favorite medium, and I can only sit and watch on certain weekends when I don't have other plans.

Spoilers for the end of season one.

I think the bulk of this review is going to be, "Kilgrave is terrifying," so let's start with that. Kilgrave is terrifying. So many of the Marvel Cinematic Universe movies have such plain villains who are ultimately just direct physical threats, but Kilgrave is absolutely a league of his own, in terms of the sheer threat he can pose in basically any situation. He's not a fighter, yet he manages to be untouchable and endlessly dangerous in basically any situation where people are present. Over the course of the season, they really came up with an imaginative variety of ways for Kilgrave to use his powers over people, many of them just horrible. I'm often annoyed by the Marvel movies killing off their fun villains, because it means we don't get to see them anymore. But I wholeheartedly agree with killing off Kilgrave, because . . . well A) he's fun in a very different way than most villains, because the things he can do with his power are so unique and fascinating, but in a way that makes me feel more uncomfortable than fun. And B) the sheer damage he could do is almost unthinkable. We've seen what he can do when dominating someone like Jessica or Luke Cage; imagine what he could manage with Tony Stark or Scarlet Witch—or even worse, Thor or Vision, if his power works on non-humans. I know there typically hasn't been much actor overlap between the TV series and movies in the MCU, but there's no telling what the future might hold, so I'm glad to see Kilgrave gone.

Another big thing that stands out to me is the relationship between Jessica and her adoptive sister, Trish. Despite the huge difference between their personalities, the way they stick together and remain supportive of each other throughout the entire series was really cool, and really sweet. I especially like that this shows through Jessica that someone can be loving and caring without necessarily being a nice person, demeanor-wise. Both sets of actors, the adults and teenagers, did a great job of getting across the two characters' supportive natures, even when they aren't getting along in the traditional sense.

I was kind of weirded out by the whole plotline with Trish's boyfriend suddenly doping up on super-soldier pills. It felt out of nowhere, and really out-of-place with the themes of the rest of the season. The reveal in the last couple of episodes that the facility that made the pills was tied to Jessica (and, I'm assuming preemptively, to Luke) makes a bit more sense, now.

—doctorlit is now caught up through the season three midpoint of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.; Daredevil season two is next on his MCU docket.

"For each year that I was alone and frightened, spoil yourself in the heart." "For each year that I was alone and frightened, spoil yourself in the heart." "For each year that I was alone and frightened, spoil yourself in the heart."

The powers of Chaos take hold of you once more, and you start gibbering incoherently. Even a battle sister of the Order of the Argent Shroud, known for its mercy, will not hesitate to execute someone obviously possessed by Chaos. As much as it pains me to say this, she says a prayer for your soul, lifts her visor, kisses you gently on the forehead, and administers the Emperor's mercy with a single bolt to the chest. Such is the fate of a traitor. Que end credits music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DQTCS6aWRSc

Siegfried Cortez was played by Huinesoron, Thoth, and Neshomeh
Everything else was done by 61516

Warhammer 40,000 quest will return after this commercial break:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wfdSx1YX_3w

I'm pretty sure Chaos doesn't let go just because you try to ignore it.

hS of the Unspeakable Name

I missed that. Durr. I don't know how to fix!

Siegfried Cortez, as noted in the OP. Are we lying? Did Chaos get us after all?

~Neshomeh badly wants to quote Candide here. "I'm neither pure, nor wise, nor good... but I do the best I know."

It's the fourth time I've rewatched the series and it's still beautiful!

I'm planning to read the book the series was adapted from (is that how you say it?) when I have the time.

I hope there were no badfics about this,though.

I can tell you've not read So You Want To Be A Wizard [recently?] - my Manual is extremely different from Nita's (the only one we get significant text from), so the similarities show what you're working from. But that's all right - I wrote mine that way for a reason, and I think the same reasons would carry across to you.

I think you've integrated the Manual very well with her (your? How are we referring to self-insert fics?) personal story; better than I have! 'Jacob' is pretty much a blank slate with opinions; 'Siobhan' is a backstory in herself. (An aside - given the continuous Celtic influences in the Young Wizards books, the name fits very nicely.)

The main thing I'd flag up is the result of the way you're building on my story: Siobhan's Manual doesn't seem to talk about the main reason for the existence of wizardry, which is to battle against the entropy and death introduced to the universe by the Lone Power. (Aside #2 - I'm not sure 'Lonely Power' is ever used in the canon, though I'm also not sure it im't.) I mentioned it in passing, so it's understandable it didn't make it across to yours.

Finally: I love the idea of parsing history through the lens of wizardry. It makes perfect sense to me. It's not something Diane Duane does very much (she mostly pokes at mythology instead), but as a function of the world, it's something that absolutely should happen.

I certainly hope you'll continue the story! (How much do you know about the series? I don't remember you chiming in before...)

hS

PS: So come on, that's two... who else is going to tell their tale? :D

PPS: 'Robert Brain' sounds like a comic-book supervillain. ^_~

Though I doubt a Manual "author" would steal someone else's name... maybe someone lived a double life. ;)

But anyway, these are good words and I love them.

All right, I reckon I should help. Think I'll start with some definitions. *cracks knuckles*

BTW, I think we should probably keep it third-person so we don't get multiple "I"s running around. That could be confusing. {= )

~Neshomeh

Well, hS is gonna do it, I might as well have a crack at it. =]

---

It should have been raining.

Warm summer sunlight drifted through the bedroom window instead. It landed on a figure, slumped face down on a blanket the colour of verdigris, lying on a broken bed. The figure shook, ever so slightly, constantly in motion. A stuffed wombat muffled the noises that the figure made almost completely, but not quite.

The figure rolled over onto its back, staring up at the ceiling and the pea-green walls, at the bare bulb through tears in the shade. It was an odd-looking boy: rail-thin and long-limbed in that way only teenagers are; mass of thick brown curls splayed out on the pillow like tree roots; skin pale despite the summer sun and cratered with nervously-plucked acne scars across the figure's arms and forehead; and green eyes with a ring of hazel at the pupil, when they weren't squeezed tight to keep the world out. It was definitely an odd-looking sort of boy.

Her name was Siobhan.

Siobhan rolled back onto her stomach and blinked away a few more tears. She couldn't concentrate any more, couldn't focus on anything that wasn't what she was. Her insides felt like dead weight. Her arms were heavy. She wanted her laptop back, but that was gone, hurled out of the window by her mother for ballsing up her exams once too often. She needed something to take her brain out of the mindset of failure and let it just... whir away in the background. The fan on a computer that didn't do anything but was kept around because people liked the noise.

It should have been raining.

A book would do. Siobhan rolled off the side of her bed, clutching her wombat briefly, and listened for where her mother was. Downstairs, still furious. A book would hdefinitely do. She crept out of her bedroom and glanced around at the landing, all mid-brown rough carpet and watercolours of flowers. And a shelf of books, mostly academic works that her mother was using for her doctoral thesis. One of them caught her eye, though.

It was a rather wizened looking thing, a battered old paperback with dog ears and a faint smell of mildew and old libraries. The cover, which was black and covered in green stars, said it was A General Theory of Wizardry by Marcel Mauss, translated from the original by Brian Roberts. It was exactly the kind of book Siobhan wanted to read. It was also all wrong.

She held the book timidly in her hand and went back into her bedroom like a shot bolt, locking the door behind her and smacking the knob with her palm. A small thunk from the other side let her know that the other knob had now fallen off, and she took the rest of the handle out of the mechanism. Once her privacy was assured, she popped the book down on her pillow (her wombat seemed to be looking at it askance) and began rooting around in the bookcases. That was the one thing she liked about her room: it was full to bursting with books. They were everywhere, a small minefield of information. Sure, she spent a lot of her time on the Internet reading underwhelming webcomics, but just having books around - especially old ones, like her grandfather had collected - made her feel safer, more grounded, more real.

A small, triumphant noise escaped Siobhan as she finally found the book she wanted. At least, it sounded triumphant. It might have been a burp. She wasn't sure. She placed the battered paperback copy next to the book she'd found on the landing and began a compare and contrast.

Mauss's work, a famous work, was A General Theory of Magic. The translation she had, by Robert Brain, was a slim paperback whose black cover was decorated with an array of blue stars. She'd dipped into it briefly for pleasure a few months ago, when her mother had been more amenable to letting her do things like that. But they only had one copy.

So, in short, what the blue hell was this book doing here?

Siobhan picked the book up and began to read, and it was a strange sort of book. She noticed that the dedication was wrong, too - it simply read "For You" - and her jaw set. She turned the pages, teeth gritted, tears drying on her cheeks, trying to find more inaccuracies in the... copy? Knockoff? What was this bloody thing?

At least the style was right. Mauss's prose really wasn't a strong point. However, it differed in that as it explored the history of the use of magic across ancient and so-called "primitive" cultures, it leaned heavily on narrative examples and allegory rather than evidence or history. Because they had to be narrative examples, right? Stories about teenage shamans in the modern-day Democratic Republic of the Congo waging war on death itself were ridiculous. So was the story about how the murals of dolphins excavated at the palace of King Cogidubnus at Fishbourne were due to the king's long-standing alliance with dolphin wizards - which had to be fake, because the palace was first discovered in 1960 and Mauss's book (the real one) was published in 1902.

There was an entire chapter dedicated to Cogidubnus, and the essential tragedy of his reign; how he had thwarted something called the Lonely Power in his youth, and lingered on too far past his time, wandering amidst the seas, giving up his kingdom to a foreign empire just to keep his people safe, and then being cut off when the Romans retreated from the island, leaving behind only stone and blood. The Lone One had won that day, and plunged the Britain of the Late Antiquity into something that truly merited the term Dark Age, and only with the coming of the young wizard Aelfred hundreds of years later was It finally beaten back. Mauss - or whoever had taken his name - had thoughtfully included diagrams of the murals at Fishbourne and Celtic and Saxon works of art, but the designs were wrong there as well. Rather than traditional tiled murals or knotwork, they were lines and circles that merged and flowed into... something. Siobhan couldn't read them, but she knew what they meant; they were guides to the magic used in those ancient days, in the battles against It that were won... or lost.

Siobhan knew it was wrong. It had to be. It was completely unbelievable. She kept reading.

The chapter ended with a promise and a poem. The promise came first: that by reciting an Oath, the reader could truly use the magic of the ancients that was the birthright of everything that could give birth. The poem was the Oath itself, apparently. It warned Siobhan that an Ordeal would come her way, that she would be called upon to fight against Its influence upon the universe, but that she would not fight alone; all across space and time, there were those who would call her cousin, and call her by her own name. She wouldn't be Harry any more, the skinny, smartarse, good-for-nothing boy; she would be Siobhan Jones, a wizard of Earth, and she wouldn't be alone again.

Siobhan looked around at her bedroom. The floor was covered in a thick layer of books and junk. Doodles were everywhere. Dust was everywhere else. She hadn't gone out with her friends since school had broken up for the summer, and she hadn't gone out at all for a week. The book full of lies promised her the moon on a stick, and all she had to do was speak some words aloud. It was insane. Clearly, demonstrably insane.

She looked down at her skinny, pigeon chest, at the scar on it, at the word on it. What did she really have to lose by trying?

"In Life's name, for Life's sake..."

---

I realized upon further reflection that my Manual would actually be one of the scholarly works on magic that my mum had loads of around the house while she was working on her Ph.D. So, this is a brief and probably quite ropey illustration of that. Concrit from people more familiar with the Young Wizards series is always welcome. =]

What? Who? Something? Sorry, I was distracted by the sister. Ummm...

Let's go with John. That's totally my name. And my last name is... Egbert? No. Stalvern? No. Doe? Probably not.

Ooh! It's Stuart. There we go. John Stuart. Totally a normal name for a guardsman.

I am going to steal Darth Maul's Ship and get the Queen out of there. After all stealing Darth Maul's ship to get the Queen off planet was my plan all along. I love it when a plan comes together.

Canon: Star Wars

You've fallen into a galaxy full of possibilities, a vast canvas of war and peace, heroism and villainy, stables and starships. I'm sure you'll have a great time, provided you can survive the next hour or so.

Now, here's your first question. It's very important that you answer this as quickly as possible:

Can you breathe?
-Yes.
-No.

(We'll see how far we get before I run out of steam... ~hS)

How many people get to watch a lightsaber duel (tri-uel?) up close, right?

Of course, I know you by now - you're hardly a passive observer. So what will you do while they duel?

-I'm gonna try and shoot one of them with a blaster! (Who did you hit?)
-I'm gonna go steal Darth Maul's ship (and get the Queen out of there)!
-I'm gonna go steal Darth Maul's ship (and take the Queen to Darth Sidious)!
-I'm gonna blow up the Royal Starship and everyone in it! (Wait, what?)
-No, actually, I'm feeling pretty passive. (Who won the duel?)

The late morning sun shone down on the Welsh beach. The sea was calm, the low ripples catching the light and throwing it back in eye-catching glints. Jacob stopped, towel wrapped around him, to look out at the ocean, and raised a hand in response to his family's waves, but he had no interest in rejoining them. Maybe later, once the sea breeze had died down.

Warmed by the sun, the stony slope made a surprisingly comfortable seat. Jacob draped his towel over his legs and picked up his book. Wizardry Through the Ages, the cover said, traces of gold leaf sparkling in the corners of the letters. "Let's see what you are," he murmured, turning to the first page.

It started out as a history. Actually, it started out with a dedication - simply For you - but Jacob just rolled his eyes at that and moved on.

The history section was written as a string of short narratives, and jumped around a lot. It began in the Roman era, with a story of a Romano-British woman trying to mediate a conflict between her two peoples. It felt kind of like a Rosemary Sutcliff novel, but with magic - Orcivia treated magic (or 'wizardry', per the book) as a fact of life, working spells for even the smallest reason.

Jacob found the story enthralling, despite - or perhaps because of - the strange flowing script in which Orcivia's spells were written out. He couldn't read them, obviously, but the lines and circles somehow managed to convey their meaning regardless.

All too soon, Orcivia's story ended, and the book slipped into another timeframe - either pre- or post-Roman, Jacob couldn't tell. The tale of Gwydion's battle with the Lonely Power that ruled the Otherworld rang faint bells, especially once the name of Taliesin started showing up, but Jacob found himself more interested in the spells Gwydion used to enchant the trees and call them to his aid. They were written out as very Tolkienesque poems, or seemed to be - though they were in that same curling script used for Orcivia's, he found that by now he could almost grasp the actual words. Alder to the front, forming the vanguard - something like that, anyway.

The book shifted again, into what was recognisably a more modern setting. This time the wizard was a young girl, out to fight a Power that wanted to rain darkness on the land. The story had a definite Susan Cooper vibe, and Jacob read it avidly.

The spells were different again, here written out as something close to prayers; the swirling script actually amplified the impression that these were requests of the universe, rather than the demands he might have expected. When Annette asked the hillside to rise up against the Dark, it was the landscape's choice to respond.

And then she lost. Jacob read in mounting horror as the girl's weapon against the enemy Power went awry, as it slipped out of her control, as the hillside fell to consume her and her village alike. He kept turning the pages, hunting for the twist - the reveal that she had somehow saved the day - but it wasn't there.

The book abandoned narrative. This, it explained, was what wizardry was for - to thwart the machinations of the Lone Power, and to slow (but never stop) the running-down of the universe. Sometimes that meant fighting. Sometimes it meant knowing when not to fight. And sometimes it meant sacrifice - or simple failure.

Nothing was guaranteed, the book said. Being on the side of Good didn't mean you always won. The Lone Power was ancient and cunning and powerful beyond measure. Standing against It was a fool's errand… but when the life of the universe was at stake, how could you not?

The next page was set with a single, simple block of text, almost a poem. There were warnings attached - that once spoken, the Oath was binding, and that breaking it would have capital-C Consequences.

Jacob read the warnings with a distinct air of skepticism. Sadly, magic (almost?) certainly wasn't real. But... even if the whole thing was fictional, it wasn't like the Oath wasn't a good thing to live up to anyway. So what was the harm in saying it?

"In Life's name-" The roar of the sea seemed to fade, and Jacob looked up, shocked at how loud his voice sounded. But everything was as it should be. He swallowed, shook his head as if to clear it, and looked down at the page again.

"In Life's name," he read, his throat dry, "and for Life's sake, I swear that I will employ the Art which is Its gift in Life's service alone…"

---

Author's Miscellaneous Notes:
-Names continue to be changed to protect the guilty.
-Orcivia is my own invention. Gwydion comes from the Mabinogion, and is the source of the term 'Battle of the Trees'. Annette's story is intended to evoke the Aberfan disaster, which - in a world where children are inducted as wizards - is as clear an example of a failed Ordeal as you can get.
-It is possible that some or all of the history section is a Chekov's Gun. I'll find out when I write that far. ^_^
-I take the view that the written form of the Speech is like the spoken form - it's a fundamental language which everyone can understand to some extent. Alternately, that could just be the Manual at work, feeding me power a little in advance.
-You have not seen the last of the classic fantasy literature references.

hS

Personally, I feel about having a bajillion characters more or less how Granny Weatherwax feels about having magic wands and a bunch of rings and pentacles and sequins and other occult what-have-you: I Can't Be Having With That Sort Of Thing. {; P

Either way, all we need for the Permission request is one (or two) good character ideas. So, the answer to the question is to pick the one(s) you feel are the strongest/best developed/most entertaining. Which should be the ones you plan to actually use in a story first, because why would you lead with anything but the best idea you have?

~Neshomeh

You have always been an Emperor-fearing man, and are glad to have the opportunity to fight traitorous scum. Their horrific dancing impedes their aim, and your shots knock many of them of balance. The Battle Sister's bolter makes quick work of the rest, and soon your enemies have been reduced to thin red paste, though you only have 20 shots left in your lascarbine's power cell. After the heretics have fallen, the Battle Sister turns to you and says: "You fought well, I think my estimation of your faith was correct. But I have not properly introduced myself. I am sister Olivia, of the Order of the Argent Shroud. Who might you be?"

I would say that all of these are significant improvements, but I want to specifically point to the new FAQ: For Other People. That needs to be finished and used as a replacment for our current one ASAP, and I'll do my best to help it on its way if I can.

Yes, there is a reason. That reason is that when I was a several-years-younger lad, and I first stumbled across the PPC, the idea caught my imagination. I thought it was great and amazing and I read TOS and later Tales From DoGA, and I loved it, and I wanted to join.

But I was young, and insecure, and I had never written fanfiction in my life. I wound up not joining because I was afraid of how the community might react to me, or whether I'd be made fun of or chased away because I wasn't experienced enough. Fears I would later discover were ill-founded when I did join.

The original FAQ: For Other People was instrumental in creating those fears. It make the PPC seem like a place to be afraid of, and a group that you had to be an experienced writer to interact with.

In summary, that FAQ almost caused me to never meet you guys and lead me to fear you. And I kinda doubt I'm the only potential newbie who might be scared off by something like that.

So if I had my say, the original FAQ: For Other People would be burned around a celebratory bonfire while we all caroused and drank and laughed and talked. And maybe afterwords we could find something Rude to do with the ashes.

(I've been itching to reference the Shivering Isles at least once on the Board, so don't mind that. ;P)

Hi there! I'm Twistey, a 1-year-bie who has a lot of fandoms and a lot of original worlds. I love writing joke fic, too, so expect me to go all out next Badfic Games, next Shipfest, etc. I also love to give people things, so here's a returnbie gift: a cosplay Lichtspeer replica made out of... a big fluorescent tube with a layer of plastic around the outside to give it coloring and shape. Take it, please, I don't want it at all!

Anyway, haha, welcome back and nice to meet you!

-Twistey

I'll post the audition lines for them.