They call you Magpie, occasionally— Bloodhound more recently— and you like to collect things.
You’ve always been careful about it, of course— learning where, if they exist at all, the lost and founds are, how to stumble across the people around who have the uncanny ability to know everyone and everything that matters to them, the places locals always check for items gone adrift— and you’ve heard strange things about EU, even before you actually arrived. Nothing concrete, nothing substantial, but enough on the forums and ratemyprofessors and hidden in deep corners of the web that you take extra care this time before continuing your finding (and returning, which is, admittedly, more of an entertaining challenge).
So instead of picking up the curiosities or collecting the feathers and bits and baubles, you watch, as you always do, and you’re thorough, as you always are. It takes some months and some seeing things you perhaps shouldn’t have and some time spent imagining solutions you likely couldn’t spare, but when all is said and done you think you’re ready to begin.
When you take the feathers, you leave behind piles of birdseed (your cockatiel’s favorite, and millet too when the plumage is especially colorful). When you find bottle caps, you bring them to the fountain and throw them in the highest tier; for the koi in the pond and their gasping mouths, you bring stories (words, the important thing is the words) whispered in the dead of night and shut up in the pretty green bottles left for you on the sidewalk. You find marbles in your pockets, bright as bubbles catching the sun, and make earrings out of them using the delicate wire you’re given every time you leave interestingly-shaped driftwood in that hole beside the dumpster (the earrings you keep, and sometimes give away to classmates worried about getting caught (or getting Caught, depending) in the rain). You give poetry and songs (whatever’s in your head, be it Bon Jovi for a week, the lines of that play you’re struggling with, or the rhymes that occasionally overtake your thoughts) to the crows and the trees and they give you nothing, but nor do they take.
The squirrels you know better than to deal with. A senior warned you (indirectly, eyes straight ahead as you both walked along), and when you accidentally leave your doodle notebook under the tree, you are left shaking pine needles out of your hair for weeks (it does smell nice, to be fair).
You never take found things without giving in return, and never give without expecting to leave empty-handed. It is a kindness, all of it, and you treasure the thanks you get (you do not always get thanked, and you do not mind).
With the lost things, you tread more carefully. You peek at them from the corner of your eye and wait a day (sometimes two, sometimes three, depending on how hard it is to only cast a glance) in order to see if the item is claimed; eventually (reluctantly, sometimes, but you do know how to help lost things find their homes, and you don’t want to leave them), you pick them up.
If it’s made of anything shiny, you leave it by the crows, rattling off as many interwoven lines of poetry you can cobble together about guarding and glittering, returning and finding, dropping off folded tinfoil sculptures as well (the crows have never given you anything back, but nor has anything been taken, and so you figure it’s fair they keep whatever they feel they’re owed). Though you only intend for them to keep watch and draw attention (whenever something pretty is misplaced, everyone looks at them), you begin to leave them your little aluminum figures whenever you catch wind of anything (or anyone) disappearing as a good luck charm, fond of how they watch and listen and protect what’s them and theirs. It is meant to be an idiosyncrasy, but you start to notice that they gather around the places those lost things turn up. You don’t give thanks and you pick up no more of their feathers than usual. When something is returned you make sure those involved discover a sudden and temporary interest in reading classic poems aloud.
When it’s anything that seems personal (or urgent), you hunt It down; a sigil that looks like an abstract swirl or perhaps an eye or perhaps a hand. Usually someone’s wearing it, frequently it’s purple, and always it’s on the softest-looking piece of fabric around; you drop the item nearby, wrapped in pairs of the warmest socks you can get on short notice, and grin before moving along. After the third time, when you get pins and needles walking away, you also start folding paper flowers out of the lists you keep of what you pick up where (and, if applicable, what you left in return). You leave those stuffed inside the socks, and notice that in certain places nothing turns up anymore (you do not blame It for being more skilled than you).
When it’s just an ordinary lost thing, you bury it, and leave a circle of pebbles above; later, you place a crow’s feather in the middle as well. You check back in a week and usually it’s gone. If it’s still there in two, you put it in the school’s lost and found, and at that point, more often than not, you later end up discovering it in your room.
You begin to get a reputation.
You hope, perhaps (probably) vainly, that it will do you no harm, and that you will not become one of the lost things you are so fond of.
You do what you can to keep safe; you owe no one a thing, and there are quite a few that owe you (and owe you very much).
You like to collect things, but you don’t collect debts. You do much freely, and you find value in kindnesses, but you value yourself, of course, most of all.
You hope you will not become lost, one way or another. You try to remember that, before, your help was freely given and the debts you were owed forgiven more often than not. You hope your (what-started-out-as-)innocent hobby will do you no harm.
Asgard under Loki’s rule has a heavy emphasis on the arts
Thor giving Loki a warning before making him reveal himself
Loki’s oh shit
Loki dropping Odin off at a nursing home. (He could have dropped him off literally anywhere else, but Loki chose a nursing home.)
Loki’s expression when Odin greets him and Thor as “My sons.” (because thats probably the first time in decades Odin has called Loki his son, or presented him as Thor’s equal)
Dr. Strange letting Loki fall for 30 min instead of putting him in an inexcapable room or something
Loki calling Dr. Strange a second class sorcerer
The fact that Valkyrie probably created her amazing robot by herself, because it doesn’t look anything like the Grandmaster would have.
Loki getting to sit on the Grandmaster’s private couch when no one else could
THE GRANDMASTER IS THE COLLECTORS BROTHER (I saw this in a youtube vid where Jeff Goldblum mentioned that. I just think its notable how the king of a place where all LOST THINGS end up, is the brother of THE COLLECTOR)
Hulk being able to talk in hulk form
Valkyrie being an absolute drunk instead of a cute flirty drunk
Her and Hulk’s friendship (Almost like brother and sister relationship)
Bruce recognized Tony’s clothes even though Thor just shoved them into his chest.
Thor and Jane broke up apparently? (TBH Im not upset about it. Thor was never there and when he was it was because she was in danger and he felt like he had to help her)
Thor wanting to be a Valkyrie until he learned that he couldn’t be. But even after, he still admires and respects them. (Proves that Thor is a true feminist)
ROMANCE DOES NOT DRIVE THE MOVIE
“There better be cupholders on it”
Thor constantly throwing objects at Loki to make sure he’s really there
The whole scene where Thor and Valkyrie are fighting in mid air on top of the ships.
The entire snake bit and Loki smiling fondly at the memory
VALYKYRIE WINNING IN A FIGHT AGAINST LOKI AND HIM STILL RESPECTING HER
LOKI STABBED THOR AT AGE 8 AND THEY THEY BOTH WERE FINE?!
Loki choosing to come back even after Thor electrocuted him and left him in the Garndmaster’s vault. (Thor gave Loki every opportunity to turn his back on him, but still trusted him enough to grab the crown and put it into the eternal flame.)
Thor 100% agrees that Hela is the rightful ruler of Asgard, butttttttt she’s to violent so he knows she can’t be queen.
VALKYRIE BEING BI SEXUAL
NO ONE CALLED HELA A BITCH FOR BEING AN ASSERTIVE POWERFUL WOMAN WITH AMBITION AND DETERMINATION. NO ONE!
Loki getting the redemption arc he deserved
Thor and Loki getting to be brothers from the first time we’ve seen and actually fight by each other’s side
Thor being proud of Loki for coming back to Asgard
Loki being proud of Thor for harnessing his lightning powers.
There is not a single butt or boob shot of Valkyire, or any shot that paints her in a sexual light.
The fact that when she’s threatening Thor with a knife and he pushes it away, she brings it back up and he doesn’t try to push it away again. (HE RESPECTS HER ENOUGH TO UNDERSTAND THAT SHE IS GOING TO MAKE SURE THAT KNIFE IS THERE AND HE BETTER GET USED TO IT NOW)
Loki noticing how insecure Thor is with his eye patch and immediately putting Thor at ease by saying it suits him. (Not only does it look good, but it suits his personality)
How similar Odin and Thor look now (what are you trying to say Marvel)
The wink the grandmaster gives Loki when he mentions his age and Thors confused look. (The fact that Loki is more like “whelp now you know Thor” than embarrassed or upset.)
Odin probably being the worst father in history. Couldn’t parent 1 of 3 kids right
I know I have more but I just can’t think of them right now so here you go!
14 Reasons why Disney's Atlantis: The Lost Empire kicks ass
1. Diverse cast
Audrey is Hispanic
Sweet is black/Native American
Vinny is Italian
Mole is French
And Kida is Atlantean
which brings us to our next reason…
2. The Atlanteans
This movie features a made-up race called the Atlanteans. Physically, have brown skin, white hair, and varying eye colors. Because of the crystals they wear around their neck, their lifespan is 300 times that of a non-Atlantean human. They possessed extremely advanced technology; they had the power of flight in 300 B.C.!
3. The scenery
4. The language
A language and a writing system was created just for this movie.
Inspired by the Sumerian language of Mesopotamia, it can be compared to other languages from media such as Klingon and Na'vi.
Princess Kidakagash is beautiful, smart, strong, and…
she can fight like hell
She’s also the first princess to later become a queen, followed by Elsa from Frozen. The two are often compared because of this, and also because of their white hair.
6. Character development
The characters all have unique personalities and backstories (inspiring a lot of fanfictions and headcanons)
7. The sass
Three sassmasters in one movie!
8. Vinny Santorini
How could you not love this guy?
9. The movie has funny moments
10. and sad moments
11. The soundtrack
While Atlantis isn’t a musical (meaning the characters don’t sing) it has an awesome score. x
12. Action scenes
Atlantis is one of the few Disney movies with a PG rating (aside from the recent Tangled, Brave, and Frozen, rated PG for ??? reason? In my opinion, if The Hunchback of Notre Dame is rated G, then these movies should be too. Maybe they think the CGI animation makes everything more intense.) Therefore, they have some sweet action/explosion scenes that you don’t usually see in Disney movies.
13. Villain conflict
Neither of the two villains are presented as villains at first; and one of the villains ends up killing the other, leading that villain to fire a zeppelin at the first villain’s ship out of spite.
It’s kinda awesome.
14. Romance is a small side dish, not the main course- which is refreshing for a Disney movie.
ok so I’m going to leave out stuff that’s Too Obvious, which means a lot of this is niche (to me) or contemporary, and… I recently had a canary on twitter about how much ~*~modern~*~ poetry GETS MY GOAT. I’m reading a lot of New poets/collections this year purely because I… didn’t really read that much contemporary stuff before, and I thought I should branch out. (so far I’m dubious.) so, yes – obviously Plath, Blake, Hughes, Sappho, Eliot, Keats, Shelley, etc. etc. ad nauseum, The Greats, yadda yadda, here’s some others.
so far this year I’ve read (and ENJOYED - I’m not reccing the ones I wasn’t into/thought were pants, soz):
Letters From Medea by Salma Deera
Grief Is the Thing with Feathers by Max Porter
Hold Your Own by Kate Tempest (I actually LOVED this)
Mouthful of Forevers by Clementine von Radics
War of the Foxes by Richard Siken (of YOU’RE SITTING IN A CAR WITH A BEAUTIFUL BOY, AND HE WON’T TELL YOU THAT HE LOVES YOU, BUT HE LOVES YOU fame)
I’ve also read and loved:
Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth by Warsan Shire
The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy by Tim Burton
The Curse of the Vampire’s Socks and Other Doggerel by Terry Jones
Love Poems by Carol Ann Duffy
Let Us Compare Mythologies by Leonard Cohen
my personal 10/10 all-time go-tos are:
Crush by Richard Siken (despite appearing on every single tumblr graphic between 2011 and 2013, it still gets me in the heart guts)
The World’s Wife by Carol Ann Duffy (which I have loved wholeheartedly since I was 17 years old)
pretty much any collection of Great War poetry: Up the Line to Death, Men Who March Away, Lads: Love Poetry of the Trenches (the Great War poets are my favourite. like, of all poetry, ever)
my favourite individual poems, as we’re on the subj, are:
I’ve been doing a lot of animation recently, so I decided to attempt something for @thearcanagame because I am IN LOVE with julian the game.
I wanted to do it in the same pose and all so it looked… more legit I guess?? I don’t know, but I had fun making it!
Please go download this app, It’s SO good. The art is AMAZING?? and the characters and writing and story are amazing so far as well!!! (Also, The backgrounds in it are #GOALS they make me want to practice scenery and stuff. I normally HATE drawing those ;v;)
The gif isn’t loading on Mobile for me. So if you’re having that issue as well, Sorry!
“It wasn’t so much that I suddenly decided I must become a doctor —
it was just that I suddenly realized one day that I’d been one for a long time — and then I wasn’t, and I missed it.”
She spread her hands out on the desk and flexed her fingers, long and supple, the nails buffed into neat, shiny ovals.
“There used to be an old song from the First World War,” she said reflectively. “I used to hear it sometimes when some of Uncle Lamb’s old army friends would come round and stay up late and get drunk. It went, ‘How You Gonna Keep ’em Down on the Farm, After They’ve Seen Paree?’” She sang the first line, then broke off with a wry smile.
“I’d seen Paree,” she said softly. She looked up from her hands, alert and present, but with the traces of memory in her eyes, fixed on Roger with the clarity of a second sight. “And a lot of other things besides. Caen and Amiens, Preston, and Falkirk, the Hôpital des Anges and the so-called surgery at Leoch. I’d been a doctor, in every way there is — I’d delivered babies, set bones, stitched wounds, treated fevers…” She trailed off, and shrugged. “There was a terrible lot I didn’t know, of course. I knew how much I could learn — and that’s why I went to medical school. But it didn’t really make a difference, you know.” She dipped a finger into the whipped cream floating on her cocoa, and licked it off. “I have a diploma with an M.D. on it —but I was a doctor long before I set foot in medical school.”