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plutobutartsy · 10 months

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some nate facts :3

tagging @swanconcerto and @oceanicwhitetipshark because you guys seemed excited :3 fair warning though:

1. this is really long so don't feel obligated to read everything and

2. i mention nate's dad being an angry asshole specifically in relation to how it's affected nate, but nothing graphic or too in dephth. still, please be mindful of your own triggers <3

he's a werewolf! poor briar (remember, he's scared of dogs, hehe i am so funny)

like briar, he is the youngest child, he has an older brother (isaiah, 19) and an older sister (selah, 26)

nate is short for nathan! him and his siblings all have biblical names (take this with a grain of salt, i did like one google search so if it's wrong. idk)

his dad was a horrible and angry man and nate is constantly haunted by the fear that he will turn out just like his father

it doesn't help that out of all three siblings he looks the most like his dad. he has the same white hair and nose.

he somehow convinced himself that if he let's himself feel any intense emotions, even positive ones, they will turn to anger so he tries to keep a tight lid on everything.

he took some time off school and lived with his mom's childhood friend martha and her husband. they live on a farm in the middle of bum fuck nowhere (not really, just a small village but nate is a city girl (gn))

his mother hoped being away from the city he grew up in, and thus being away from a place he associates his father with, would help him "get over" his issues. with a bit of prodding from selah, their mom also got him a therapist near where he was staying

he still has some resentment towards his mom because of that. he feels like she just gave up on him and decided to push him away and out of her sight

despite that, his time away really did help him with accepting his emotions more but if you look too closely, you can see his smile falter a bit! :)

additionally, whenever he feels even the slightest bit of anger he panics and bolts

i should mention that his pack (formed by his parents and now solely run by his mother) used to treat him like a ticking time bomb because of his similarities to his father so uhh that did NOT help

of course not the ENTIRE pack but a few of the older members treating him that way was enough

that's why being away from all that was so good for him, it was just so refreshing to be treated like a person and to not only be allowed to feel freely, but to be encouraged to do so

his treatment has improved since he got back (thanks to his siblings letting it be known they won't tolerate this shit any longer) but he still gets dirty looks from time to time

there's rumors going around at his school that he spent his time away in juvie because his anger issues got the best of him

all this is very sad and tragically ironic since he's SUCH a sweetheart, always has been

evie transferred to his school like a month before nate came back and when he did, some people told evie that he was bad news and she was like what. he's a saint.

he loved being on the farm and really bonded with the animals. named every single one of them and can tell which is which no matter how similar they all look.

still visits and helps whenever he can

the type to be late to meetings because he got caught up helping every single person in his sight

sometimes just squats down on the side walk to watch the ants go about their stuff. he's hypnotized.

when he needs time to think he goes to one of those pet shops and stares at the aquariums until he feels the manager glare at him for loitering. he gets sad thinking about the fish being trapped but he likes watching them anyways

insanely good with kids. he loves watching the younger kids in the pack and they love him even more. he let's them climb all over him they use him like a jungle gym. so even if their parents are wary of nate they have to put up with him lol

does a lot of art! mainly pottery and poetry though!! but he also crochets, the repetitive movement relaxes him

in general he really likes working with his hands, that's why he enjoys pottery and the farm work so much

a disaster in the kitchen. local teenage boy tries to make eggs, 5 injured 1 dead

vegetarian!! almost vegan. he either gets his non-meat animal products from sellers he knows are ethical or not at all.

absolutely obsessed with shitty romance novels you know like the types you get at the airport. will talk your ears off about them. no escape.

this got really long so i'm going to make a seperate post with relationship stuff for my beloveds :3

#stella's super cool ocs

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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rosesandcloves · 2 years

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HENRY

A Peaky Blinders Fanfic

Hi guys! I have recently started watching Peaky Blinders again and while I was watching I came up with a headcanon that I thought I could make into a fic with an OC. It's ofc about the dreamy Michael Gray. There will be fluff angst and smut in this fic.

This is part 1 of an ongoing series.

I am also posting this on my Wattpad so if you prefer to read on there my @ is in my bio.

We were both live wires, but only we knew. "Good kids." They would call us. We hated every minute of it. I was just a child when I met him. Nine. What an age! Aware of all the horrible horrors but you still don't know how to swear about it.

I hated the girls school in the village. They taught us how to be obedient and good homemakers. They taught us typing for those of us who were too unlucky to get a husband to care for us. They taught us how to repair and treat. How to do everything that the men couldn't be bothered to do.

At lunch times they would let us play, like girls again. We would forget about womanhood when we had grass stains on our skin, catching frogs in our knee high socks. The other girls didn't like the mud like me. They called me a wild one and laughed at my tangled hair. Blood on my face from the brambles in the ditch.

It was a Monday when I heard his voice first. I was looking for slow worms near the hedge that joined the boys school. The hedge shook, someone shifting on the other side. I pushed the hair from my face and peared through a gap. There was a boy crouched down looking for something. He found me however. His bright eyes peered through the gap. "Hello." He didn't sound like country folk. He sounded like the boys from the big city. One time my dad took me to Birmingham for a treat. He showed me the bull ring and took me too a fair. The whole time grumbling about the Gypsies. "Ya can't just live like that Esther, they think you can but it will catch up with them. Moving from place to place like rats."

I was too shy to say anything back. I just stared.

"What are you looking for?" He asked.

"Flowers," I lied "for me' Ma."

"That's nice." "Have you seen a ball over there?" He moved closer to the hedge and peered through to my side. "You aren't looking for flowers are ya?" He looked back at me. "Do you like looking for animals?" He asked innocently.

"Yeah, I found a frog last week, not found a toad yet though. I get a good look at them and then go home and draw them. I still need to find a toad though." I realised this whole time I was looking down into the ditch. I looked back at the boy.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Esther."

"My name's Henry, pleased to meet you Esther." He reached his hand through the hedge to shake mine. "Meet me at the wishing well at four after school and before dinner." He found his ball and walked away.

That evening he turned up with a picnic basket, a cloth covering the contense. He opened the basket and showed me a toad sat in the bottom still as can be, he set it down on the edge of the wishing well, picked up the toad and handed it to me. "Now you can draw a toad." He said. We saw eachother often after that. We would meet at school by the hedge and play games. Once a week when my dad was working late on the farm I would meet him by the wishing well and we would go hunting. We would catch everything from mice to snails. It was the happiest time of my life.

We grew closer over the next few years. When we got older we talked about how we wanted to get out of the village, into the city and do something that mattered. On my 16th birthday I met him by the wishing well. He told me we would fight together us against the world, and then he kissed me.

You believe that sort of stuff when you are 16, that you and one other person is enough.

I had never been kissed before. I didn't ever like anyone other than Henry.

When he was 17 a man came to the house. The next day Henry left without saying goodbye. His mother said he left for a new life in the city and would never come back, she said she did her bit but she wasn't his mother anymore. I remember thinking "how could he do this to me? He said it would be just us against everyone and everything."

I cried myself to sleep for 3 weeks after he left. I realised later that I was in love with Henry, and despite our ways it was an innocent love.

#michael gray #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder headcanon #michael gray imagine #michael gray smut #michael gray angst #tommy shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #polly shelby #polly gray #finn cole #smut

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trustfallwithgod · 13 days

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Day 27 & 28: when courage fails

In one of Fr. Ambrose’s last homilies at the parish before his re-assignment, I bought this paperweight as a reminder of his service and of my ultimate duty and obedience to the Father. I was beginning a new role and I thought it fitting to bring it with me to the office. The next few days of the beginning of 2021 were eventful to say the least: most signs pointed to the fact that I had made a mistake in accepting the job.

Every evening, I would spend a few minutes to look at the paperweight and then commit my path to the Lord and though supernatural success came, I never shook the feeling that it would end in trial and suffering. In fact, mid-last year, I had spoken prophetic words to my now ex-boss and how badly the mismanagement of this situation would cost us.

Yes, my courage has failed me but I am reminded: Though He slay me, I lay my trust in Him. I am afraid but baptised and confirmed in the faith, I have vowed obedience. In whatever circumstances, He is still and forever my Father.

The Story of the Three Trees

Once upon a mountain top, three little trees stood and dreamed of what they wanted to become when they grew up.

The first little tree looked up at the stars and said: “I want to hold treasure. I want to be covered with gold and filled with precious stones. I’ll be the most beautiful treasure chest in the world!”

The second little tree looked out at the small stream trickling by on its way to the ocean. “I want to be traveling mighty waters and carrying powerful kings. I’ll be the strongest ship in the world!”

The third little tree looked down into the valley below where busy men and women worked in a busy town. “I don’t want to leave the mountain top at all. I want to grow so tall that when people stop to look at me, they’ll raise their eyes to heaven and think of God. I will be the tallest tree in the world.”

Years passed. The rain came, the sun shone, and the little trees grew tall. One day three woodcutters climbed the mountain.

The first woodcutter looked at the first tree and said, “This tree is beautiful. It is perfect for me.” With a swoop of his shining axe, the first tree fell. “Now I shall be made into a beautiful chest. I shall hold wonderful treasure!” the first tree said.

The second woodcutter looked at the second tree and said, “This tree is strong. It is perfect for me.” With a swoop of his shining axe, the second tree fell. “Now I shall sail mighty waters!” thought the second tree. “I shall be a strong ship for mighty kings!”

The third tree felt her heart sink when the last woodcutter looked her way. She stood straight and tall and pointed bravely to heaven. But the woodcutter never even looked up. “Any kind of tree will do for me,” he muttered. With a swoop of his shining axe, the third tree fell.

The first tree rejoiced when the woodcutter brought her to a carpenter’s shop. But the carpenter fashioned the tree into a feedbox for animals. The once beautiful tree was not covered with gold, nor with treasure. She was coated with sawdust and filled with hay for hungry farm animals.

The second tree smiled when the woodcutter took her to a shipyard, but no mighty sailing ship was made that day. Instead, the once strong tree was hammered and sawed into a simple fishing boat. She was too small and too weak to sail on an ocean, or even a river; instead, she was taken to a little lake.

The third tree was confused when the woodcutter cut her into strong beams and left her in a lumberyard.

“What happened?” the once tall tree wondered. “All I ever wanted was to stay on the mountain top and point to God...”

Many, many days and night passed. The three trees nearly forgot their dreams.

But one night, golden starlight poured over the first tree as a young woman placed her newborn baby in the feedbox. “I wish I could make a cradle for him,” her husband whispered.

The mother squeezed his hand and smiled as the starlight shone on the smooth and the sturdy wood. “This manger is beautiful,” she said.

And suddenly the first tree knew he was holding the greatest treasure in the world.

One evening a tired traveler and his friends crowded into the old fishing boat. The traveler fell asleep as the second tree quietly sailed out into the lake.

Soon a thundering and thrashing storm arose. The little tree shuddered. She knew she did not have the strength to carry so many passengers safely through with the wind and the rain. The tired man awakened. He stood up, stretched out his hand, and said, “Peace.” The storm stopped as quickly as it had begun.

And suddenly the second tree knew he was carrying the king of heaven and earth.

One Friday morning, the third tree was startled when her beams were yanked from the forgotten woodpile. She flinched as she was carried through an angry jeering crowd. She shuddered when soldiers nailed a man’s hands to her. She felt ugly and harsh and cruel.

But on Sunday morning, when the sun rose and the earth tremble with joy beneath her, the third tree knew that God’s love had changed everything.

It had made the third tree strong.

And every time people thought of the third tree, they would think of God.

That was better than being the tallest tree in the world.

The next time you feel down because you didn’t get what you want, sit tight and be happy because God is thinking of something better to give you. But most important of all, His will must ultimately be our choice because we are called to obey.

#spiritualgrowth #catholic #spiritual journey #faith in jesus #jesus christ

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sciencespies · 1 year

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How to Grow a Food Forest

https://sciencespies.com/environment/how-to-grow-a-food-forest/

How to Grow a Food Forest

Not your typical garden, they can help us reimagine how we produce food in a warming world.

I am writing today from my apartment in New York City, on a windy winter’s day. Not a leaf is green on our roof garden. There is no canopy. Only skyscrapers.

It’s a far cry from the garden that Ana Gaspar Aguerri and her husband, Ian Macaulay, showed me in the tropical rainforest of Costa Rica a few weeks ago.

Theirs is a garden that imitates the architecture of a natural forest, one that they say produces all the food they want to eat. There are towering breadfruit trees, ginger as tall as me, sweet potato vines, spinach, taro under the ground. All perennial plants.

I visited Gaspar and Macaulay in late December. It was pouring rain that morning. I snaked uphill on an unpaved winding road in a rental. My teenager was with me, singing Janelle Monáe at the top of her lungs (again). We sat for a while in Gaspar’s kitchen, drinking tea and waiting for the rain to subside. Finally, when it did, I borrowed rain boots from Gaspar and we went walking. The ground was muddy. Heat rose from the wet earth. Howler monkeys leaped through the trees. A toucan had left a half-eaten papaya under a tree. Gaspar didn’t mind. There was enough for humans and wildlife.

Fine, I thought. A food forest in a rainforest. Fascinating. But niche.

Only when I got back home and started poking around did I realize that food forests aren’t niche at all. They’ve been around forever, mainly in the tropics, though enterprising gardeners have created food forests in very different habitats across the United States, from vacant city lots in Philadelphia, public parks in Seattle and Asheville, to schoolyards in South Florida.

The reason I want to tell you about food forests is that they can be useful in reimagining how we grow food in a warming world.

That’s one of my goals for Climate Forward this year. To help us reimagine how to do things. With or without toucans.

A food forest is neither wilderness nor an orchard.

“A food forest is what it sounds like — a forest you can eat,” said Cara Rockwell, a Florida International University professor who studies food forests.

It stems from the multilayered, multispecies gardens that have existed for hundreds, maybe thousands, of years, in the tropics, she said. Often, they served as kitchen gardens. Women tended to them.

Like a wild forest, they have trees both short and tall, shrubs and vines, ground cover and fungi. They can have animals, too. Even cattle can graze among fruit trees. The idea is to build healthy soils, create shade, allow beneficial insects to thrive. The idea is not to produce the highest yields possible of one crop, which is the goal of modern industrial farming. Nor are they exactly backyard or neighborhood gardens, with rows of annual crops and flowers. They have several layers, from underground tubers to vines to shrubs to short and tall trees. All play different roles. All, or most, are perennials.

There are many food forests today in the United States, including on public land. I haven’t found anyone who tracks their numbers, though researchers told me that it’s become ever more popular in the last 15 years.

Can it feed us?

That depends.

Gaspar insists that it’s possible to produce enough food for two people on 2,000 square meters, or about half an acre, at least in their part of the world where crops grow year-round. She and Macaulay teach their techniques — based on the principles of permaculture (short for permanent agriculture, which relies on perennial crops) — on their farm, called Finca Tierra. If you go, be prepared to stay in bamboo cabins open on two sides. (They provide mosquito nets over the beds.)

Gaspar, who is Costa Rican, ditched her career as a human rights lawyer to work on Finca Tierra. Macaulay, an American, grew up in Ohio and trained to be an urban planner. Growing food is only part of their goal. Gaspar says the farm eased the pressures of making money to buy food. It freed up more of her time. “It’s about creating a sustainable lifestyle,” she said.

Food forests can meet other goals.

Elaine Fiore has a different mission. She has helped to create 24 food forests on school grounds in Broward County in South Florida. They give children a place to sit still, she said, and learn about how things grow. “I’ll pull a leaf off a plant and I’ll eat it,” she said, “and they think it’s crazy!”

Elaine Fiore, who helped to create 24 food forests at schools in South Florida, at Park Ridge Elementary.Eva Marie Uzcategui for The New York Times

She is planting soursop, jackfruit, cranberry hibiscus, mint. It’s her second year doing it, so the trees are still young. Kids sometimes do yoga in the food forest. They learn about microclimates. They decorate the grounds with toy dinosaurs. At one school, they learned how much iguanas love young sweet potato vines. The reptiles decimated a third of their garden, Fiore said.

Eventually, she said, she hopes the fruits of the food forests can be used in the school cafeterias. In the long run, that can persuade kids to eat a more varied, more nutritious diet, she hopes.

Food forests are no walk in the park.

They don’t need a lot of land, but they need that land for a long time, long enough for trees to grow and mature. They also need to be weeded and mulched — a lot, especially in the beginning — and then, trees need to be pruned to keep fruits within reach. They need caretakers. And managers to figure out who gets to harvest, how to staff, whether paid or not.

Nature can impose its own limits. Jose Ramirez, a Los Angeles-based artist and gardener, has devoted his yard to fruit trees — mango, avocado, fig — with some perennials in the understory, like nettles. But it’s Los Angeles. The earth is dry. There’s not enough water to mimic a forest of the tropics.

There are many models. Seattle’s Beacon Food Forest is open to public picking. The Urban Food Forest at Browns Mill is owned and managed by the city of Atlanta. The Philadelphia Orchard Project works with community groups to manage each orchard. (Some are designed as food forests, while others contain only fruit trees.)

They can be hardy.

Rockwell, the professor who studies food forests, says they are especially well-suited to a climate-changed era, including in Miami, where she lives, where early summer can be scorching hot and dry.

In her own yard, she has 10 edible species in a six-square-foot patch. There’s taro in the ground, longevity spinach close to the ground, passion fruit vines that climb up a trellis, shrubs of mint and chaya. She allows herself one annual crop: collard greens. A mulberry tree filters the sun. On the edge of the yard is a star fruit and a dwarf mango. Both provide shade. Compared to a row of annuals, a food forest like hers can withstand higher temperatures and longer dry spells. “For providing protection from heat, it’s really a no-brainer,” she said.

Food forests can include nonnative species, she said. But they should steer clear of invasive species that can displace native plants. Consult your state or local environmental agency for a list of invasive species.

Garden gnomes are passé at Park Ridge Elementary.Eva Marie Uzcategui for The New York Times

Want to learn more?

Catherine Bukowski produced this guide in 2019: “The Community Food Forest Handbook: How to Plan, Organize, and Nurture Edible Gathering Places”

Cara Rockwell published tips for South Florida.

Essential news from The Times

The shore of Lake Powell in Page, Ariz. Along with Lake Mead, it provides water and electricity for Arizona, Nevada and Southern California.Justin Sullivan/Getty Images

The shrinking Colorado: States that depend on the river are nowhere near a deal for reductions in water use. The federal government may be forced to impose painful cuts.

Trade wars on the horizon: As countries pursue new solutions to mitigate climate change, policy clashes point to a future of more frequent cross-border trade fights.

Alaska’s rainforest: The Biden administration banned logging and new roads on millions of acres in Tongass National Forest, North America’s largest temperate rainforest.

Minnesota’s lakes: The administration also said it would set a 20-year moratorium on mining upstream from the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness.

Sacred land: Indigenous groups are fighting a copper project in Arizona that companies say is crucial for producing batteries and reducing the use of fossil fuels.

Rats and recycling: New York’s mayor said the city would expand composting programs and improve trash collection. The plan is supposed to get rid of rats, too.

You call that snow? Some big American cities are experiencing some of their least snowy seasons in 50 years.

From outside The Times

According to Bloomberg, 2022 was a turning point for energy: The first time the world invested as much in renewables as it did in fossil fuels.

Conservationists made the panda a mascot for the cause. According to Vox, it didn’t help nature as much as they had hoped.

Yale Environment 360 reported that Indonesia is censoring researchers who challenge conservation policies that the government claims are successful.

High Country News calculated the amount of energy that could be produced by putting solar panels in parking lots and on the roofs of big-box stores.

From Politico: Independents funded by an environmental group helped to make climate policy less partisan in Australia. Some say Americans should adopt the same strategy.

Ben Jealous, a civil rights activist, author, investor and nonprofit leader, is the new leader of the Sierra Club.Jason Andrew for The New York Times

Before you go: The Sierra Club tries to move forward

The Sierra Club, the largest environmental group in the United States, was convulsed by the 2020 murder of George Floyd and forced to confront painful questions about its mission and history, including whether its founder, John Muir, was biased against people of color. Now, after three years of turmoil, the organization has appointed Ben Jealous, a civil rights activist and nonprofit leader, to be its executive director

Thanks for being a subscriber. We’ll be back on Friday.

Manuela Andreoni, Claire O’Neill and Douglas Alteen contributed to Climate Forward. Read past editions of the newsletter here.

If you’re enjoying what you’re reading, please consider recommending it to others. They can sign up here. Browse all of our subscriber-only newsletters here.

Reach us at [email protected]. We read every message, and reply to many!

#Environment

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roger-that-cap · 3 years

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meet me in the gardens

summary: being the widow of a decently wealthy lord and sitting on a large plot of land automatically meant that you were a candidate for the program that you couldn’t say no to; the hosting. you had to sponsor a knight and keep them in your home for an entire year, which was troublesome enough on its own. but you never expected your knight to be a woman, and you certainly didn’t expect to have a full on illegal love affair with her, either.

knight!natasha x lady!reader

sort of royalty au (there’s social hierarchy and a king and queen and knights and commoners and all that so- yeah it’s a royalty au nvm lmao)

warnings: this is fluff, angst, uh, basically everything but smut and serious angst.

word count: 2.5k, starting off short before we get into this

part one!

also, to the very few people who look for fics up here- i promise i’m alive, sorry for being m.i.a! work and school are bodying me right now

A lot could change within a year.

In a year, one was expected to grow wiser and older, and for you, because you were a woman, prettier. And because you did all three of those things in one year, you were herded off like cattle from your small farm, where the old pig you would soon be forced to call “husband” had seen you in the first place, and carted away to his large estate. You were supposed to be his wife, bear his children, and love him unconditionally even though you knew nothing about him, and he was supposed to do not even half of that for you. He had chosen you purely because your father had an abundance of wheat and animals, and he thought you were nice looking. He would surely never go hungry if he had the owner of a relatively large farm’s daughter with him.

Regardless of his reasoning for wanting to make you his wife, it ended up happening. You cried yourself to sleep the night before, and when you were done consummating the horrid marriage, you cried after he fell asleep, unable to shut your own eyes. That was how you spent your first night at the female counterpart to your lord husband, and as Lady Mirellis.

The marriage was loveless. The only thing you got out of it was a nice roof over your head and some silky clothing that made you feel like you were betraying who you really were. He was a brute and a pig, and he hardly ever spoke to you other than to tell you to get on your back, your knees, or something else as equally vile. You were the lady of his large manor, considered a small castle, but that was all you were. You made friends with the staff around, and that made things just the tiniest bit better. He was still cruel and crude, still insanely aggravating, and getting more and more angry with each month that you weren’t carrying his child.

And then, all of a sudden, he grew ill. And, within a month after he fell ill, he died. And then you were a single woman who had a large estate to her name, and a growing line of suitors who wanted nothing more than to have their last names attached to the great patch of land. You were the lady of the house without a lord, still young and still capable of marriage. After a large fuss over whether or not a young woman from your background was fit to take over, you had inherited everything.

So, yes, a lot could change in a year. And you decided that the changes that took place in that year were ones that you could barely handle.

§§

You knew exactly what the letter with the King’s Seal on it was when it was put into your hand, and you very easily guessed the contents of it.

You supposed that you should have seen it coming. Miraculously, your late husband and lord had gotten out of the Hosting, which could have been seen as treasonous or dishonorable if he had been any less careful. You grew up on a farm, and you had no idea how to go about denying or questioning royal decree, so you weren’t going to. You were going to have to Host, for the first time in your life.

Your family was never important enough to have to do it, so you had no experience with it, other than knowing that a high up lord of a small castle, or big estate, whatever one wanted to call it, was in charge of having a knight in their home while the knight completed his year long training. The training was said to come from within, and the job of the knight was to be a good, honorable guest, and to come back to the castle after their year expired as a new and improved person.

But it was rare that they truly soul searched, you had heard. Mainly because they were ninety nine percent male and thought with their penises more than their brains and hearts. The Hosting was a knight’s last stop before true knighthood, more or less a time that humbled young knights. It was a test of the true intentions of a knight, the true desires of a man who wished for glory and authority.

“For you, Milady.” You grimaced inwardly at the title, the title that you used to have to call the lady that you used to bring barrels of hay to on Sunday mornings. You nodded at the young boy, a smile on your face. He was new, and it was clear that this was his first task that involved him to speak to a “higher up” person.

You patted his head. “Thank you,” you said, and his eyes widened comically before he laughed and ran away, obviously shocked by the way you spoke to him back.

It wasn’t against the law, but it was frowned upon for nobles to speak to servants more than necessary. A noble person was not required to have manners or ask kindly for things, and when they did, it was certainly an out of the ordinary experience. You knew that well enough.

You broke the red seal and took in a deep breath, going to sit at your late husband’s desk (that you of course inherited, as you inherited everything the man had) and finding your name in perfect and Royal handwriting.

Lady Mirellis,

As you know, the time for the selection of The Hosting has come. Your house was not a host during the previous Hosting, therefore, you will be required to sponsor a knight this year. Out of respect for your late husband and all he has done for me, I will choose a knight for you, a knight that I trust. You will be safe with my choice, and the year will flow smoothly. Once again, I am sorry for your loss.

Please expect your knight within the fortnight, Lady Mirellis.

With respect, King Anthony Stark.

§§

Two weeks later, your keep was buzzing. You hated hosting things, even if they were short dinners. And you knew that you were going to hate hosting a person for an entire year. A brand new knight who was full of himself, no less.

King Anthony had given you what he thought was going to be an easy charge for a reason. New knights were known for being rowdy, disgusting, perverted, and authoritative when they shouldn’t have been. No lady should ever have to deal with the crude words or behavior of a man—certainly not. And with you and your poor husband gone, that meant that no one was there to help you.

You appreciated the kindness, but it was obvious that every man thought that women were only an extension of their husbands. If you weren’t able to handle the loud voices and taunting shouts of men and boys, you would have melted or turned to dust by the time you were thirteen years old. If you had survived a man who carted you off and away from your family like you were cattle, you could handle a boy who was staying under your roof.

Nonetheless, your people were busy, and so were you. They were making accommodations to the largest guest room, because it was to be someone’s for an entire year. They were cleaning things that you never thought would be cleaned, washing random sheets and hanging them to dry. And you? You were making the welcoming package.

You had never made one before, but you were trying your hardest. It was more or less a care package to make the knight feel comfortable. It was a starter kit, so that they wouldn’t have to ask for much or seem unfit for knighthood, because it was all about pride. So help anyone above, you wouldn’t be dealing with a knight with a bruised ego.

“Men,” you scoffed out, rolling your eyes as you fluffed the silk pillowcase and folded the top of the woven basket over, closing in everything and tying the top with a bow.

“Y/N,” a woman’s voice called out, and you turned to it with a gentle smile.

Of course it was Wanda. Her and her brother were always by your side, ever since you had arrived at the keep. Pietro was the messenger boy for Lord Mirellis, because he was so fast on his feet. He delivered a message meant to go hundreds of leagues away and came back within days, when it would take others weeks. You liked Pietro a lot. He was a funny man, cheeky, but he knew his boundaries with people, whether they were lowborn or highborn. He had the same amount of respect for everything, and you admired that about him.

Wanda however, was your favorite person in the castle. She was the first kind face that you saw when you walked into the keep. She was the first person to actually ask you if you wanted help being dressed or brushing your hair. She was able to see that you needed help with your corset before you even asked. There were so many trivial things that Wanda did for you that made you so loyal to the friendship you shared, but there was one thing you were sure to never forget.

She had been the one to help you out of bed after a rough consummation night. She was also the only woman who had offered you even a sliver of sympathy, and for that, she was your greatest ally, and on a deeper level, a true friend.

You had barely even seen her for more than five minutes before you woke up in bed by yourself the morning after that horrid night, crying silent tears and feeling sore between your legs. A knock sounded on the door, and instead of her turning away and apologizing for coming in on such an improper moment, she shut the door and asked you if you needed help, without any fear of being scolded. Wanda Maximoff was different. That’s why you liked her so much.

She was standing beside you as you waited, even though waiting for a knight was somewhat improper. You were supposed to wait inside and have them knock on your castle door, and you were to welcome them inside and have a warm dinner ready. That was how it was always supposed to go, but you decided not to do that.

You were standing outside, like the lady you had been forced to become. Your chin was slightly lifted and your hands were at your sides, even though you were desperate to fiddle with your thumbs. You took in a deep breath as you heard the sound of a carriage coming, horses and the chatter of men getting louder with each passing moment.

You would be a liar if you said that you weren’t scared to have a man in your house that you didn’t know. Not only would he be a man, but he would be a man that knew how to do things that most didn’t, such as how to properly wield a sword. You were a woman alone, a widow to a lord, and people had tried things with you before, ever since your husband had died. Most of the time, those things ended up with their hands being cut off as the legal and unyielding punishment for their attempted crimes.

“No one here is going to let a stupid knight hurt you, you know.” Pietro had come out of nowhere, chest puffed out as he looked to his sister for a moment, and then back at you. “Wanda is practically with you every second of every day, and I’m never too far.” It was true. There were guards around, as well, but you were still scared.

“If you don’t like it this year, you can always say no next year.” Wanda offered, but you whined under your breath when you remembered that this was no visit. The man would be living with you for an entire year. “And King Anthony said he would be giving you a man he trusted to sleep under your roof. I trust his word.”

“As do I,” you said quickly, ringing out your hands one last time before the carriage got closer. “I’ll be fine, you two. Thank you.” And they knew just how grateful you were for them.

The carriage was being pulled by two white horses, both looking around carelessly and cluelessly as the coachman pulled them to a stop. “Lady Mirellis,” he said, looking you up and down, clearly judging you for not yielding to tradition. “It is very kind of you to meet us outside.”

“I thought it may be easier to begin the tour early,” you said, remembering at the last moment to school your voice into sounding ladylike. The stark difference between your public voice and the one that you spoke to Wanda and Pietro with always made Wanda smile a bit, and you knew that you would have laughed if you were looking at her. “I don’t want to give my new guest too large of a culture shock. I am not quite sure if he would appreciate being hoarded inside a place he hasn’t seen before.”

The coachman gave you an odd look, almost like he wasn’t understanding what you were saying. Or maybe, why you were saying it. But, he knew that because of your status, your word outweighed his, and he would do as you said. Your heart was beating nearly out of your chest as you watched him climb out of his chair and walk around, and you saw his hand wrap around the handle of the white and gold carriage.

There was a flash of brilliant red. That was all you saw at first, and then you saw shiny armor, glinting in the sun. Your eyes trailed up from the shoes that you knew were crafted specifically for knights, up to the legs and then to the breastplate, which you noticed was curved outwards. Your brows furrowed as your eyes got stuck in that place, and you willed yourself to believe that it was a trick of the eyes. There was a pinch on your arm, and you realized that you had been staring without speaking for much too long. In your embarrassment, your eyes flickered up to meet the man’s, and then, you nearly choked.

The knight was no man at all.

*****

so this is a series! this idea has been cooking up in my head for a while now, and i figured it was finally time to go through with it! i’m really excited about this one, and i’ve already got most of it planned out. i hope you guys liked this!

also- if you would like to be tagged, you are free to ask! (bold of me to assume that any of y’all want a notif for this bye 😭) please interact with this if you liked it, it makes me so happy and motivated to hear from you guys!

#natasha x female reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanov fluff #natasha romanov x reader #knight au #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #my fics #natasha romanoff series #knight!natasha #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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evarcana · 3 years

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Get Your Act Together

Ev changes her plans for the evening and goes to the theatre.

words: ~3,2k

warnings: mentions strangling but it is not what you think it is.

notes: I don’t want to commit to calling it Chapter II but this fic takes place not long after these events, and really is just silly.

“No, seriously, at first I thought it was just people talking but the idiot really never parts with his wine glass,” says Ev and reclines in the chair, exhausted by her own dramatic tone. She throws her head backwards, the dark hair, colour of burned bronze, falling down in soft glistering waves followed by the drapes of her silk jacket, and drags both hands across the face with a sigh, trying to wipe away the apparent annoyance, but the creases between her brows are too stubborn and she decides to hide it instead, burying her face under the shadows of her palms. “Ignorant alcoholic,” she hisses through her fingers.

Ev is sitting in the sun outside of the wine merchant at the narrow cobbled street conveniently tucked away between the hustle and bustle of the Main Square and the glamour of the Heart District. Back in the Prakran capital the street so central would be full of people running errands and the neighbours talking in front of the doors despite the afternoon heat and humidity but here the only signs of life at four o'clock are languid piano exercises played somewhere behind the closed shatters and the faint but energetic drumbeat of the carriage passing in the distance.

“So what happened?” A young woman with eyes which are lighter than the sky sets a jug of rosemary lemonade and a glass on Ev’s table and looks down at her, pressing the tray against the black apron decorated with the embroidered grapevines.

Ev lifts her hands an inch and peeks at the woman from the shadows, her eyes narrowed and gleaming with anger. “He kicked me out,” she states flatly.

“Why?”, the woman in black apron asks somewhat wearly and turns to the shop’s entrance where a small jar of paint and a brush are waiting on the tea towel covering the stone step below the door. The paint on the brush is the same deep burgundy as the woman’s shirt.

Ev considers meeting Anais to be her only luck in Vesuvia. Not only does she run the excellent wine shop which also functions as a small bar but she is living in the flat above it and seems to be permanently bored and ready to entertain Ev with some gossip and tips about the city, which makes her a perfect neighbour for somebody who has just moved to the new place completely alone.

Ev’s nose wrinkles at the sharp smell of paint as she watches Anais dipping her brush in the jar. “I made one of those little dolls which they use for cursing people up North and brought it to the palace,” she says. It had a little braid made from silk and wool threads and Ev painted its face with the thinnest makeup brush she could find in her vanity table. Ev smiles to herself thinking that it was the most crafty thing she has done since she was thirteen but notices Anais staring at her with the expression of the person questioning somebody’s sanity, and quickly raises her hands defensively, palms up. “Listen, I am not proud of that.”

Anais rolls her eyes good-humouredly and for a few minutes they both watch the brush moving rhythmically tracing precise lines on the wooden door frame in silence, before Anais turns to Ev again. “Didn’t it happen on Tuesday too?”

“Kicking out?”, Ev responds without lifting her eyes from the jug of lemonade, “it did”. She is busy poking slices of orange with a rosemary stem.

Anais watches Ev’s face, clearly expecting her to continue. But she does not. The silence between them is interrupted only by clicking of the ice cubes against the glass. Anais tilts her head to the side and says in a careful tone, “But you seem to be more angry today.”

Ev stabs the slice of blood orange she fished out to the liquid’s surface and it splatters the sour juice and bitter oils which make her eyes stink. She blinks a few times and gives the orrange a disapproving frown. “He called the guards,” she says. Her juvenile prank got out of hand. She definitely is not proud.

“What?” Anais’s voice raises in surprise and her paintbrush makes an uneven stroke which she rushes to cover.

“Yeah, I know.”

“But I don’t understand. Aren’t you a diplomat? They can’t really - “, she pauses thinking of the right word, “- stop you, can they?”

“No, but I can’t necessarily stop him neither”

Anais goes quiet, weighing Ev’s words in her head, while she paints. “So why do you keep on... talking to him?”, she asks finally and waves her brush in the air, “you don’t have to.”

Ev gives her a pointed look and then drops her eyes down, frowning once again. That is a very good question. Why does she keep on talking to him?

For the last few weeks Ev has stuck to the same routine: she comes to the palace daily, enquires a servant politely about the consul’s schedule for the day, finds Valerius, tosses a pile of paper in front of him, takes a seat opposite him and proceeds to picturing herself strangling him. Bare hands. The skin on his neck gets hot and damp with sweat underneath her fingers, his body is struggling against hers while she presses her knee against his chest holding him in place. She squeezes, and squeezes. Sometimes however she would get lost in her own imagination and her hands would slide up, fingers getting buried in the hair, her thumbs tracing delicate lines behind his earlobes. She doesn't know what happens after that, because she guillotines the thought. Those are moments of weakness and are luckily rare. It would be easier if he was ugly, and stupid. But he is pretty much the opposite. Yet another proof that she had no good luck in Vesuvia. After the weakness comes the inevitable irritation, which Valerius seems to sense like a sniffer dog, and before she knows they are engaged in one of their already signature yelling competitions which the servants undoubtedly gossip about in the corridors and kitchens. Ev would be surprised if the whole Vesuvia is not calling her a madwoman by now. Her only hope being that they think even worse things of their consul.

Hating someone is exhausting. Every interaction makes Ev’s blood boil, and her heart beat heavy and bright. Her mind does strange things and she honestly does not remember the last time she thought about something other than making Valerius do what she wants for longer than an hour. She wastes precious minutes of her life on someone who genuinely despises her.

She wishes he did not despise her though. She wishes that there was more to him than being prickish, judgemental asshole, then perhaps this whole thing could be just about bearable. That is why she keeps on talking to him. But Ev cannot tell Anais that because it is the same as admitting that she has lost and that he has won, so she huffs irritably and says “Because it is my job, why else” instead.

“Good to know that you are both as stubborn as mules.” Anais grew up at her parents’ vineyard in the rural part of Venterre and except the times when she talks about wine all her comparisons are based on farm animals and other attributes of country life.

Ev folds her arms. “I don’t think you know me well enough to say that.” Despite whatever is happening in her imagination in the moments of weakness, the idea of having something in common with Valerius, not only an asshole but the surliest man alive, makes her feel irrationally violent.

Anais only hums something to herself. “Anyway, no more of this talk, what are your plans for tonight?” she asks Ev with the trained cheerfulness of a person chatting to customers daily, “You know we are not opening tonight”, she adds, now sounding more concerned than cheerful.

“Because you are going on your adventure date with Theresa and your brother has not come back yet.” Ev waves her hand, “I remember.” She thinks of all the unopened letters on her desk at home and some notes she managed to scoop in her bag from Valerius’s desk in the palace, the risky act which would probably earn her another look from Anais, and adds, “just working”

“Why don’t you go to the theatre? The Goldgrave is doing their first performance since the plague. I think you should still be able to get the ticket at the door.” Anais wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, still holding the brush. “Actually, the guy who runs the show is Theresa’s neighbour, I will have a word with him. I am sure he will let you in for free if you promise to write a review.”

“Why would he want my review?”

“Oh come on! One of the Prakran dignitaries attends their humble performance, that’s like the most international exposure they have ever had!”

“Fine,” Ev says sceptically.

***

The man at the entrance didn’t lie about all the tickets being sold out, the small theatre is full and buzzes with anticipation. Ev had to endure a small torture of exchanging pleasantries with the overexcited theatre director and at least a dozen of guests, who all seems to know Anais and each other, after she introduced herself. But it all paid off and she is now sitting in the three-seat box closest to the stage, probably the most expensive seats in the whole of the theatre.

Ev eyes an empty seat to the far left. The seat next to her is taken by the old lady wearing simple but tasteful clothes and wrapped in the wooly shawl. She smells of the lily-of-the-valley perfume and apple pie. “Excuse me, are you expecting someone? I think the lights are about to go down”, Ev asks, giving the old lady a soft smile.

“Oh no, darling, I am here to watch my husband perform on stage.” She sounds proud. Ev tries to recall the last time somebody called her darling.

“That is really sweet, he must be thrilled to have you here,” she says, and the kindness in her voice is genuine. Ev finds her new neighbour positively charming, in a way only the older generation can be.

“And what is such a lovely young lady doing in the theatre alone?”

Ev shrugs her shoulders playfully. “I am here to keep you company. You have to tell me when your husband comes on stage,” Ev says, returning the smile.

The old lady covers her mouth and her laugh sounds youthful and bright. She is delighted at their little exchange.

That’s it, most people do like me.

The lights dim and just before the performance is about to begin, the curtain behind Ev’s seat moves letting the beam of light in the box and a dark figure walks in. A man, Ev thinks, who appears to be nicely proportioned. She watches temper and agitation in his movement, as he takes his seat silently. Ev thinks about her peculiar company for tonight, as the boxes are usually reserved by the group of guests. Is he here to watch his loved one too? Could he be from the newspaper?

The old lady nudges Ev’s elbow excitedly.

***

Ev has seen this play before. It is a story of the marriage proposal, full of humorous fights between the groom-to-be and his bride. The sweet old lady’s husband plays the father. He is a tall man with fluffy moustache (although those might be fake, you never know in the theatre) and genuine comedic talent. She wonders whether there is an apple pie waiting for him at home. Even through the dark Ev can see the lady looking lovingly at her husband.

Something makes Ev feel strangely out of place here. She bites the tip of her thumb lightly and replays the events of the day, remembering the old lady’s question from before and Anais asking about her plans. Her mind continues wondering and Ev catches herself thinking about what Valerius is doing tonight. The thought makes her stomach twist. Crying himself to sleep, hopefully.

She leans forwards to take a discreet look to her left, hoping to get a better view of the stranger’s face. He is hidden by shadows but the outline of his profile certainly makes her want to see more - high cheekbones, slightly convex nose and angular jaw, query full lips. He looks familiar.

Ev is now leaning so far forward her elbows are pressed on her knees, squinting and trying to recall where she might have seen this profile. She hears the old lady clearing her throat politely, and retreats, reminded of the theatre etiquette. Maybe it is nothing and he is just her type. She has been so busy recently, making plans only to watch them being discarded, thorn to shreds and thrown away, and so consumed by her anger, she did not really pay attention to the other people around. This feels nice and refreshing.

The curtain closes and the audience stands up to applaud. Ev shoots another look at the stranger. Beautiful posture, gloved hands, oh, mysterious. Maybe it would be nice to have plans with somebody like him. Before she can build up excitement about the lights coming up, the mysterious stranger turns around abruptly and disappears behind the curtain. All Ev sees is the flash of white light before her eyes, as empty and boring as her cold sheets back at home. She gets off her seat and runs after him. Maybe she is a madwoman after all. She does not have any plan, frankly, she doesn't even know why she is doing this, so she decides to go for the most obvious thing - she reaches the man’s shoulder from behind and places her hand as softly as she can considering her rush. “Ah excuse me -”, she says slightly breathy, “have we met before?”

The man turns and the disappointment that Ev experiences the very second she sees his face can only be compared to one of a child who unwraps the present only to find out that it is the older sibling’s jumper, in the child’s least favourite colour, the very same jumper the sibling was wearing the day they broke the child’s toy, most definitely on purpose. Ev is sure that she has seen other men in this city but apparently she is that unlucky.

“You,” says Valerius, baring his teeth. His eyes are slits of hatred, like he is contemplating ripping the skin off her. Ev can relate. She wants to punch him in the face. Ev clenches her jaw thinking about all the insults that he is about to throw her way.

“Consul,” she says in her best theatrical tone.

Valerius glances over his shoulder immediately, eyes wide. He does not respond, frantically scoping the corridor, which is starting to fill in with guests. Ev watches his expression and to her surprise there is no usual arrogance in it. This is unlike him. The moment draws her attention to what the consul is wearing - dark navy fitted coat, with discreet design, his long hair tucked in its high collar, cravat, high boots, gloved hands. Very unlike him. Ev studies him more carefully. There is no wine glass. This is getting disturbing.

“Are you incognito or something?”, she asks, snorting with amusement.

“None of your business”, Valerius spits. He reddens a little straight away and throws more nervous glances to his surroundings.

Oh. Tension. This is awkward, and juicy. Ev’s curiosity is officially piqued. The sight of Valerius’s discomfort is revitalising. She can feel blood pumping through her body and there is sparkle in her eyes. She smirks at him, even though he studiously avoids her gaze. Sensing the tiny hint of vulnerability just at the edges of his expression, she locks her arms around his and with the push of her hip turns them both away from the building crowd of chatting guests. “So you are incognito.” Ev really can't hide her excitement.

Both his eyebrows ratchet up, and Valerius opens his mouth as his eyes go wild, but he does not seem to be able to say a word. This is wonderful. A sensation of pure elation floods Ev. She has been dreaming about this day. She presses her body closer to Valerius and sinks her nails into his arm, like a cat toying with prey. She is thinking about this new power she has got.

Valerius looks down at Ev. “Your face looks… filthy”, he says and tries to shake her off. “Let me go. Now”

“No way. You can try screaming for help if you want.” This is the first time Ev has got the upper hand, and however little, she is not letting this opportunity slip.

“You are insane.” Valerius pulls his arm closer to his body, protectively.

Ev ignores him, right now she is busy thinking. “I know!”

“That you are insane?”

“You are stingy,” Ev says with the look of triumph in her eyes.

“What?!”

“Look, there is only one explanation. You came to the theatre once, they asked you for donations because everybody knows you are filthy rich but you refused, again and again, and now you are hiding. ”

“It is not the case.” Valerius makes another attempt to shake her off, but the sight of the theatre director walking their way through the crowd makes him stop. He turns away.

“So explain yourself then, dear consul”, Ev whispers in his ear, her voice full of venom. The group of guests walks right past them without giving them any attention. They must look like a couple, Ev realises, and eases her grip on his arm.

“No,” Valerius says sternly.

Ev stares at him for a moment, considering her options. “Fine, but you owe me”, she says simply.

“I owe you nothing”, he barks back.

“You know I am going to make a scene, maybe even mention you in the review which I kindly agreed to write for the local newspaper”

Valerius’s mouth twitches once and Ev can almost hear him gritting his teeth. At least, the man knows how the gossip works. “What do you want? How much?” The look he gives Ev is both smug and irritated.

“You are not the only one with the money here”, she makes her voice sound bored. It’s not the first Ev’s negotiation.

“I won’t ask you again, witch.” His voice is rough with anger but he bites it quicker than she expected.

“We can discuss tomorrow. I promise, it is just a small favour.”

Valerius does not say anything. He rubs the bridge of his nose and turns towards the exit, forgetting that Ev is still hanging on his arm.

“So, you like theatre?” she asks curiously as they leave together.

#the arcana #the arcana fic #evpanopolis #consul valerius #Ev x Valerius #the arcana fanfic #the arcana oc #Valerius x mc

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mk-wizard · 3 years

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So Long, Garfield: A fanscript on how Garfield could end well

Hello, fans and fat cats. Here I am with another Garfield essay, but this one is different. It is not exploration, fan theory or character analysis, but a fanscript on how the iconic comic strip cat could end on a high note. Keep in mind that this fanscript also tries to uphold all the things that made Garfield great and brings the original concept as well as many original ideas full circle. The premise of Garfield was that we saw life through his eyes namely how he saw his owner Jon’s life at how socially awkward, pathetic and bad with women he was. The audience was also subtly led to believe that if Jon ever did finally find a woman namely his most often go-to-gal Garfield’s vet Liz who found him revolting, it would mean the end of Garfield. Yet when that happened, it still went on. I think the story should end now and here is a fan script that I put together on how Garfield could end in my opinion on a high note while honouring its legacy. It is divided into four parts which symbolize the four stages of a very drastic change in one’s life. Specifically, how everything around Garfield changes in an almost domino effect kind of way because Jon and Liz finally became a couple. Note that that four stages serve as four story arcs which make up what would make for Garfield’s very last volume in the book series.

1- Jon wants to marry Liz meaning she will move in and the household dynamic and lifestyle will change forever (resistance). - After becoming an official couple, Jon and Liz decide to move onto the next big step which is to get married. Before, when they were just dating, it made Garfield a bit jealous yet he could deal with it because at least everything else was the same in his life and he grew to like having Liz around as a visitor, but having her around full time means things will change the household dynamic forever. It turns out that adapting to having Liz live with them is going to take a lot changes and it means the way they act, live and do every day tasks will not be the same anymore. Initially, Garfield will react very bad to this because unlike Jon, he likes bachelorhood and isn’t ready to give it up, so he would probably do everything he could to foil Jon’s attempts to propose to Liz and even go as far as making Liz very uncomfortable in an effort to get her to dump Jon. However, Garfield’s stunts in fact backfire as Liz turns out to be very tolerant and patient with him as she is not only good with animals since she is a vet, but kind of see right through him so she sympathizes with him not wanting her to intrude. Also, despite all of Garfield’s efforts, Jon still somehow manages to propose to Liz and she says yes. When that happens, Garfield stops resisting and just resigns. Note that from here on end, the planning of Jon and Liz’s wedding is ongoing in the background.

2- Lyman finally finds his own place and job meaning he will move out, but so will Odie (denial). - This leads us to phase two which also brings up the forgotten yet still present idea that Lyman is Jon’s roommate and Odie is not actually Jon’s dog. After so many years, Lyman finally lands a great job and is able to move out, BUT if he goes, so will Odie. Obvious, neither Garfield or Odie are happy about this because they’re actually good friends. I would imagine that there would be tons upon tons of gags of trying to stop the move out from happening like the pets emptying out the luggage to trying to sneak Odie away so that he secretly stays in Jon and Garfield’s house, but of course, all of these attempts to keep the status quo would not only fail, they would make both Jon and Lyman very angry. I imagine the punchline in the end would be that it turns out that Lyman is only moving away into his own house a few blocks away which is just walking distance. Also, the serious side that keeping Odie isn’t just unrealistic, it’s mean because he’s all Lyman’s got. Of course, Jon and his own friend still be cool. It is also here we finally find out what Lyman does for a living; he is a photographer and he will be taking pictures for Jon and Liz’s wedding. And bittersweetly, while it turns out Garfield and Odie won’t be split up that far apart, them not living together is still a huge change to get used to as their absence in each other’s lives is felt.

3- Nermal comes to terms with leaving kittenhood and abandonment issues in his mind (depression). - At this phase, Garfield is sad and depressed, and things seem to get worse as Jon and Liz are going to the Arbuckle farm to celebrate their engagement. And fun long lost fact; Nermal is the kitten of Ma and Pa Arbuckle... but things have changed there too and so has Nermal. Mom and Dad have their own announcement which is that they are retiring and have decided to start traveling which means they are leaving the farm and the little guy in Doc Boy’s care. And while the parents are optimistic about this new phase in their lives, Doc Boy is facing some issues as Nermal is no longer a kitten. He is now a “teenager” meaning he is no longer cute and has taken up a rebellious as well as an unfriendly streak. He has become spiteful and does unkind things which as first annoys Garfield until he notices a familiar pattern and recalls he went through the same thing... when his previous owner, a pasta chef gave him to Jon. Despite all of his better judgement, Garfield gets Nermal to have a heart to heart talk, and Nermal admits that he is hurt that Mr. and Mrs. Arbuckle are leaving him behind. He thinks that they are abandoning him because he’s not a cute little kitten anymore. Of course, it turns out that the real reason they are leaving him with Doc Boy is out of love. Nermal has needs and requires stability that the Arbuckles cannot give him at their age, so they are leaving him with Doc Boy so he’ll be in good hands and have a good life. Garfield then finally comes to terms with his own abandonment issues and discovers that the pasta chef did the same thing. He didn’t give him to Jon to get rid of him because he was eating the lasagna all the time. Garfield getting older and hungrier was a sign that he was growing up and needed a good home, so the chef helped Garfield find an owner who could be there for him full time. Through this, for the first time ever, Garfield and Nermal finally find common ground and get to like each other. It turns out that underneath it all, Nermal is a lot like Garfield in how he likes to eat and secretly enjoys mischief. So much so that like how Garfield loves lasagna, Nermal adores country style apple pie. At the end of the engagement party and trip, both Garfield and Nermal’s spirits are lifted, and while Nermal has eased up a little, it is hinted that he has become Doc Boy’s “Garfield” which makes Garfield for the first time ever, finds Nermal cute for it.

4- Jon gets to know Liz’s parents and Garfield rethinks his own relationship with Arlene (acceptance). - Nearing the end of the wedding plans, Jon must now get to know Liz’s parents and become accepted by them. It turns out that Liz’s dad is an easy going guy who seems to have a lot in common with Jon while her mom is the stern one who seems to have a lot of Liz’s sarcastic and no nonsense demeanor. She is also a big time zoologist. Meanwhile, Garfield is taking in all of the changes that are going on around them and decides that maybe, change isn’t so bad after all. Namely, maybe it isn’t so bad to love someone other than yourself. This makes him think that instead of just being casual with Arlene yet keeping her at an arm’s length, he decides he wants to go steady with her and officially become boyfriend and girlfriend with her. In the midst of all of this, it turns out that despite how intimidating Liz’s mom has acted towards Jon, she actually always accepted him and thinks he is a good match for her daughter because they balance each other kind of like how her own quirky and socially awkward husband balances himself with her. More importantly, Jon makes Liz happier than any other man she has met before. Once that resolution is made and all of the wedding plans are made, Garfield at long last introduces Arlene to the family indicating that they are officially together. Of course, Jon and Liz being who they are, take an immediate liking to Arlene and agree to take her in meaning that she is also not part of the household too. At this point, the wedding plans are finally put into place which offers tons of hilarious antics namely the things that go wrong to the things that are over the top. Though at the end, the wedding finally happens and the final scene is of Jon and Liz becoming husband and wife while Garfield thanks the audience for coming this far with them and saying goodbye.

The End

Well, there you have it. This is my fanscript on how Garfield ought to end in the best way possible. What do you all think of it? I would love to hear what you all think. Do you think any of this will happen?

If you have a fan theory, character analysis or anything of a comic media you want me to make an essay for, let me know in my ask section. Also, please give this a like, give me a watch and support me either by Ko-fi or Patreon. Links are in my profile.

Thanks guys and as always, stay safe.

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make-me-imagine · 4 years

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🦇 13 Days of Halloween: Day 2

🦇 << With appearance from Gary. (if you know, you know)

Prompts: “I think that scarecrow just moved” and “I’m not a witch”

Requested by: ‘Jay’

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader + Dean, Platonic

Gender: Neutral Words: 2,823

Triggers: Mentions of death, victims, fighting, injuries, choking (not the kinky kind), etc, typical Spn stuff.

Supernatural Tag list: @kaashi ; if you’d like to added let me know!

Notes: Ranking of Halloween theme = 6/10; takes place during Halloween, but not necessarily Halloween specific. Just kind of spooky lol.

If you’d like to check out 2019 and 2018′s 13 Days of Halloween, as well as my 2017 general Halloween/Fall stuff here are the links: x2017x, x2018x & x2019x

“Why are there always so many more cases during Halloween?” Dean asked, annoyance in his voice as he looked at the news report of the most recent case you took up “I mean, this is like the fourth one this month”

“I’m assuming it’s because monsters can blend in more during this time” you said casually as you looked over a case-file.

“Y/n’s right” Sam agreed

“Yeah, well it’s annoying as hell, we need a break” Dean sighed as he stood up, walking to the kitchen “We’ll leave in an hour” he stopped at the kitchen turning back “Lets hope this one doesn’t involve any clowns huh Sammy?” he asked, smirk evident.

You looked at Sam just in time to see him try and hide the fear that crossed his face as he cleared his throat, trying to ignore Deans comment. You smiled, reaching out your foot and tapping his, gaining his attention “You know he’s just teasing you”. He just nodded, trying to smile at you.

As you arrived at the most recent crime scene, you looked around as Sam and Dean talked to the police. Looking at the area where the most recent victim was found, you frowned as you noticed an unusual amount of straw littering the parking lot. You noted it in the back of your mind, though you knew it could be nothing, possibly just where a hay truck could have stopped.

“Hey” You turned seeing your boyfriend approaching you “Anything?”

“Not really, an unusual amount of straw, but it could be nothing. You?”

Sam glanced at the straw littering the lot “Hmm. Uh, not much unfortunately, the security cameras blanked just before the crime and came back on afterwards.”

“Seems like a bit more than a coincidence” Sam hummed in agreement.

After a long day of interviews and research, you found out there had been a similar string of deaths the previous two years during the same time, twelve deaths each year, the final taking place on Halloween night. On your current case there were five known deaths, and one missing person.

The three of you had also found out that all of the recent victims had all visited the same farm over the last week and a half. Which you were now on your way to visit.

“The connection to the farm might explain the straw at the crime scene” you thought out loud at you pulled off the side of the road, near the farm.

“So, crazy farmer?” Dean suggested as he and Sam got out of the car.

“Might not be a monster at all” Sam said as he opened the door for you.

“Human or monster, they still killed four people” you said.

Approaching the farm, the sun was getting lower in the sky as it reached early evening, the farm house was old and falling apart. Around the property you saw various pinned up old scarecrows in each field, as well as old Halloween decorations littering the pathways.

All three of you carefully scanned the area, the overgrown fields baring no vegetables, a tall overgrown wheat field that clearly had not been harvested in a long time. “Not much of a farm. No vegetables, no animals. Why would anyone visit it?” you observed.

“Good question, let’s ask her” Dean commented, gaining both yours and Sam’s attention. Following Deans gaze you see a middle-aged woman with curly hair sitting on the porch. She’s already staring at you as she rocks back and fourth in her wooden rocking chair.

“Welcome!” she called out as you approached.

“Ma’am” Sam greeted as you walked up the porch steps, all three of you taking out your fake badges “We hope we’re not disturbing you but we are investigating the recent deaths in town, as well as the most recent missing persons case, and we found out that all of the victims had visited this farm and we thought you might have some information for us”

“Oh is that so?” she asked, surprise in her voice “Well, I get a lot of visitors but I do remember faces fairly well, so if you have photos?”

“What exactly do your...visitors come here for if not the farm?” you asked, gesturing to the barren fields.

“Oh, no, that farm hasn’t grown profit since my husband died last year. I’m an apothecary” she smiled.

“Like a witch?” Dean blurted out, making you and Sam give him the side-eye “Uh, I mean no offense in that, I just mean, don’t apothecaries sell...potions?”

She laughed “No no, not potions, just...herbs, soups, and medicine that some might see as potions, or ingredients for medicines and other uses, but -” she laughed before her eyes locked with Deans “I’m not a witch” she smiled, though, there was something behind her eyes you could quite place. You just knew it gave all of you an uneasy feeling.

“Right, of course not ma’am” Sam recovered before taking photos out of his pockets “These are the victims, do you recognize them?”

She looked at the photos for a few moments humming to herself “Yes, I recognize all of these people, he, I believe” she pointed at one of the victims “Bought medicinal herbs for tea, I believe he said he had a bad cough, and the others just bought various teas and herbs, if I am remembering correctly that is” she smiled before leaning back in her chair.

“And what about this woman?” you asked showing her a photo of the most recent person who went missing.

“No, no I don’t know her” she shrugged looking back up at you “I’m sorry I cannot be of more help”

“Thank you ma’am, if you have anymore information or questions please contact us” Dean said, handing her a card, which she took with a smile.

“Have a lovely day you three” she said with a smile as you left.

When you got closer to the car Dean glanced back at the farm, the woman was now gone “I don’t know about you two but she gave me the creeps. We should come back this evening, check out the farm” You and Sam agreed as you drove off to kill some time.

As the sun set and it got dark, you, Sam, and Dean snuck back on the farm, wanting to check out the nearby stables and work sheds. After having done more research on the farms owner, whose name you found out was Regina Stormson, you grew more suspicious, for two reasons. One, her husband died like she said, but his death turned out to be quite similar to the recent deaths, and occurred at the same time as the deaths the previous year. And two, she was apparently eighty-seven years old, which was unusual seeing as she looked no older than forty.

As you got prepared by the Impala, sticking a spare knife in your belt Sam stepped over to you “Are you warm enough?” he asked eyeing your thin jacket.

You smiled at him “I’m fine Sam”

He nodded “Remember to be careful and call out for me if anything happens”

You chuckled quietly “You know I have been a hunter for a few years now Sam”

He smiled at his own protectiveness “Yeah, yeah I know, I just worry”

“Yes, you do, and it’s sweet” you smiled before pressing a quick kiss to his lips before you all headed toward the farm.

Sneaking past the main house, you made your way into the first barn. Looking around, the barn was full of hanging herbs, flowers, and small fabric bags, that looked remarkably like hex bags.

Dean fiddled with one in his hand “Not a witch my ass” he scoffed. “So what are we thinking? Twelve sacrifices around Halloween every year to stay young?”

“Sounds logical enough, and definitely like something an evil witch would do” you muttered as you looked at a small bladed tool on a table “And it might be thirteen deaths if her husband counts as a sacrifice”

“Maybe he got in the way, or found out what she was doing” Sam suggested.

You walked over to the doorway, your eyes scanning the outside fields, your eyes double taking to movement from the corner of your eye. Eyeing a scarecrow on its post and seeing no more movement, you turned away, thinking it must have been a bird that moved.

Making your way to the stables, it was no surprise when you found the body of the most recent missing person. Dean sighed as he finished checking their pulse, they were dead.

“Okay, lets get to the farmhouse and finish this”

Standing in the doorway, you hear a sound behind you. Turning quickly you see the same scarecrow from before, only this time, it was now facing you, rather than facing the farm as it had been before.

“Guys” you said, your heart pounding. There was fear evident in your voice as the boys turned to you, seeing you staring out at the field “I think that scarecrow just moved”

Sam and Dean shared a confused and somewhat frightened look as they appeared at your side, eyeing the scarecrow “How do you know?”

“It wasn’t facing us before” you said “I know it wasn’t”

Sam’s hand found it’s way to your back “Lets head back to the house now”

You and Dean nodded as you left the barn, all of you keeping an eye on the scarecrow. You took your eyes away as you scanned the rest of the farm before stopping suddenly when you notice something.

“What is it Y/n?” Sam asked as his hand found it’s way back to your back like before.

“When we were here earlier, I noticed that there was a scarecrow in every field. Now there isn’t” you observed.

The boys looked around, there eyes grazing over each field. Four fields in front of you, two scarecrows missing. Hearing rusting and a snapping sound the three of you spun around, finding the previous scarecrow now missing. Five fields total, three scarecrows missing.

“Go” Dean said as he pushed you and Sam towards the house.

You all took out your weapons, as you quickly made your way towards the farmhouse. Looking at the distant house, you could see a shadow in the window, a figure watching you from the window. She knows you’re here.

Hearing more rustling and snapping, you turn just in time to see the final two scarecrows dropping from their posts with thuds. Turning past a barn you all stop in your tracks, two tall slumped over scarecrows blocking your path. You raise your guns, all of you knowing they probably wouldn’t do anything.

“We need to get to the witch” you spoke quietly, just as you did, both you and Sam felt something grab your shoulders as something pulled you back, both of you being thrown to the ground roughly by two more scarecrows.

Dean fired his guns at them, the bullets having no effect as they passed through the straw bodies. The two scarecrows from before grabbed onto Dean. Fighting the scarecrows, you and Sam pulled away from the two that attacked you.

Turning, you see that Dean managed to push away the two scarecrows that attacked him “Go!” you yelled at Dean as the scarecrows blocked yours and Sams path.

Dean hesitated for a moment before he turned, and running for the farmhouse, knowing he had to get to the witch. Before the two scarecrows could chase after him, you shot at them, to gain their attention.

Turning towards you, the four scarecrows now surrounded you and Sam as you tried to fight back, your knives and guns doing nothing to wound them. Instead, you reached into the exposed straw body of one of the scarecrows, deciding if anything, to tear it apart.

But the witches spell made them strong. Which you found out as a scratchy wood and straw hand wrapped around your throat lifting you off the ground.

“Y/n!” Sam called as he struggled to get to you, three of the scarecrows attempting to pin him to the ground.

You scratched at the figure, knowing you couldn’t hurt it, as you struggled to breath you remembered you had a lighter in your pocket. Reaching into your pocket, choking for air, you managed to pull the lighter out, shoving your hand inside of the scarecrows body, you lit the lighter, failing the first few times.

The grip around your throat lightened when a bright light grew from inside of the scarecrow as you managed to light it on fire. As the fire grew the scarecrow lost strength, letting you go. You gasped for air as you rose, running over to Sam. Jumping on one of the scarecrows back as the continued to punch and hit Sam, you lit it’s cloth casing on fire as it began to burn.

As it quickly burned, losing whatever strength it had in it, Sam, understanding, took a lighter out of his pocket. The scarecrows however, seemed to have some form of consciousness, as they grabbed his arms, stopping him from lighting them on fire.

Just as you were about to help him, you felt something grab your arm, flinging you into the barn, throwing you through the barn doors and inside. You heard Sam yell our for you between grunts as the two scarecrows left continued to attack him.

Looking up, you see it’s the first scarecrow you noticed, it was also bigger than the others. You cursed yourself, knowing you had dropped your lighter when you were thrown. You looked around, standing and grabbing a pitchfork, lunging it into the scarecrows body to hold it back.

The scarecrow continued to step forward, the metal forks going through it’s body along with the rest of the pitchfork. You let go before kicking it back with your foot and running toward the doorway.

The scarecrow was fast as it reached out grabbing your shirt and pulling you back towards it. Flinging you into the wall again, various metal tools fell off the wall and onto you. Looking back at the scarecrow you see it lifting the pitchfork, ready to stab you.

Rolling out of the way as the pitchfork is stabbed into the ground, you move to run, but instead the scarecrow grabs your foot, dragging you back. You grunted in frustration as you turned and kicked at it again, grabbing a nearby wrench and throwing it, knowing it would do nothing.

The scarecrow began lifting you off the ground by your ankle as you struggled against it’s grip. You could hear Sam calling from outside as he still struggled with the other two scarecrows.

Your body turned enough so that you were now facing the scarecrow. You looked into it’s blank face just in time to see it raise it’s other hand, inside of it’s grip was a small hand scythe. Your eyes widened knowing it was going to plunge it into your body.

As it rose it’s hand you closed you eyes, calling out desperately “Sam!”

Just then, Sam burst through the barn doors, seeing the scarecrow holding you up by your leg, ready to plunge the blade into your body.

“No!” he yelled as he moved forward, knowing he wasn’t going to make it, as the scarecrow finished raising his hand.

Just as the scarecrow was about to bring down it’s hand, you heard the sound of distant gunshots, coming from the farmhouse. The scarecrows hand froze, and suddenly it’s whole body went limp, both you and the scarecrow falling to the ground.

You grunted at the impact as Sam made it to you, quickly pulling you away from the scarecrow and into his lap. As you sat up, you eyed the now lifeless scarecrow. Letting out a sigh you leaned your head back onto Sams chest as he ran his hand over you head, sighing out in relief as well.

A moment passes before you heard Dean calling out as he ran towards the barn. He appeared in the doorway, his eyes scanning over the still burning bodies of the scarecrows you and Sam had killed. He walked into the barn, seeing you and Sam, along with the limp scarecrow body in front of you. He looked at Sam before nodding his head in assurance that it was over.

Rising from the ground you groaned in pain from having been thrown around, Sam had some cuts and scratches, both of you would definitely have some bruises later. Dean got some scratches and small bumps from his scuffle with the witch. But you were relieved you were all alright.

As you slowly made your way out of the barn and back towards the impala you sighed “I never liked scarecrows, they’ve always been creepy”

Dean chuckled as Sam wrapped his arm around your waist before commenting “They’re still not as bad as clowns though”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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reginaofdoctorwho · 3 years

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weird shit that would probably have something to do with me in a horror movie

no one wanted this but i’m bored and found a bottle so you’re all getting it. yes these are all true. check the tags, if u think i’ve missed something please let me know!

there was a murder (technically, i don’t really count it as a murder) next door when i was four years old on christmas morning

the weird antique glass bottle i found half-buried in the woods in the woods yesterday with living bugs in it that made no attempt to leave it once i uncovered it

there is a local cult in the next town over. this is not the same as the local cult that was in the other town over where my mom grew up

random completed animal skeletons in the woods behind our house, i’m talking prey and predator, both laid out like in a goddamn scientific diagram. for a while there’d be ones in the middle of our yard, always the same type of animal, always just the bones and nothing else, laid out like it was posed. this has been happening for over half a decade and we have no fucking clue how, why, or who is doing it

the screaming from the woods that i’m going to assume is a fox

my sister almost dated a murderer. his niece or something is in my class

there is a house that is now part of a “local ghost tour” that belonged to my great+ grand parents during the civil war where my great+ aunt died allegedly murdered by her husband who is actually blood related to me. family history says she died of childbirth, which given that it was the 1800s... probably is true

there was an actual murderer in our family a few generations back but he married in and killed his wife and her sister. they didn’t find out about it until they read his journals after he died where it apparently told everything he did and they decided. “well, that wouldn’t look good for the family, and they’re already dead anyway” and just kept it hidden??

the fact we have my great great grandmother’s dress from probably 1890s or 1900s. even more so the fact that i fit in it. if this was fantasy horror (vampires, some immortal thing or ghost) i’d be fucking dead or cursed

fairly certain i was possessed by the ghost of a puritan as a kid

my family seems to have a curse with babies and nurses? my great uncle died when he was born because long story short, hospitals were the new hot thing, he was perfectly healthy, then a nurse dropped him and he died instantly. my sister died when she was a toddler and the hospital actively tried to delete her hospital records to cover it up and ended up getting fined by the state for it. the nurses responsible were not arrested or punished in any way.

my family all has fucked up connective tissue, in my brother it was bad enough he had to get a steel bar in his chest so it wouldn’t cave in.

the many times i have almost drowned, sometimes due to intentional actions by humans (my dad, it was my dad)

this in addition to the other fucked up shit he did before the divorce when he still lived here, including but not limited to: killing my mom’s favorite pet goat, hanging its skull in a tree, and leaving the body in the woods. not letting his kids learn how to cook. anytime someone asked him to cook he’d put as much pepper/hot sauce in as he could (even for like, scrambled eggs) and give it to the youngest person, usually a toddler. this was me at times. taking his kids out to the woods and threatening murder. taking his kids out to the woods and threatening burning. purposely locked the basement from the inside so we couldn’t get the gaping hole in the stairs leading to one of three kids rooms fixed. tearing up pictures of the kids whenever my mom did something he didn’t like. i had more here but i tried to cut it down a litttle

people have threatened to murder me before. one time a girl didn’t threaten, and actually acted like she was starting to like me, but her cousin read her diary or something and found out she was planning to commit a lot of murder, and told her parents and she got sent to a psychiatric ward for a couple weeks

my mom lived down the street from a family that got axe-murdered by one of their two sons when she was a kid. the murderer did get out on an insanity plea and is still in the area. also their neighbor’s mom “lost her mind” (how the story was told) when she had to protect their kids while her husband went over to try to protect the non murderer son when he got home from school and ran over screaming about his brother trying to kill him and had killed their parents

also she knew a girl who almost got kidnapped by this really fucked up traveling serial killer that has his own wikipedia page that is,,, lengthy. the girl had [alleged] mafia ties, and the guy ended up dying shot by police despite them being told to bring him in, which sounds kinda suspicious

long story short i’d probably be the sequel where one comes back

apparently i go to the “bad” school, which i found out in a coffee shop when i overheard two girls talking about how one’s dad went there and how horrible and dangerous it is

school fights are weird. either they don’t happen or they come freakishly close to murder. people slam heads into lockers, stomp on bones, drag people by hair along the ground. one time in my brother’s class a 4′9″ girl sent a 6′2″ football player to the hospital. there was video of a fight a couple years ago that’s still around. it was brutal, but also one of the girls fighting was taking one for the team in it and got the other kicked out

we don’t have a ceiling in all of the third floor, and the cafeteria has 2. this is not relevant in any way, but it’s important to me that you know this

also the guys kept ripping the heating vents/radiators/whatever off the walls in their bathrooms and got almost all the bathrooms locked. including the girls’ ones.

also everyone kept punching holes in the walls so on some of them it’s just,,, metal sheeting down the whole hallway

there are so many fucking shootings in the next town over. literally five years ago it was this nice place where kids would go on history tours, i did when my sister worked for that group. now there is pretty much one business that has not been held up at gunpoint, and if u look up to the serial killer bullet point, it is for v similar ties. it’s a pizza place and if u ever stop by u gotta try it

women in my family have weirdly good intuition but every couple generations we get doubtful. my great grandma didn’t want a hospital birth but decided “hey it’s the hot new thing for a reason”, my mom switched churches based on nothing but intuition and it turned out someone was a pedophile there (found out years later), i instantly could tell my friend’s boyfriend was a pos and wasn’t surprised later when he told her he’d murder and dismember me in front of her, and upon meeting him told him he was a fucking coward and couldn’t do it. he broke up with her a month later.

i was really good friends for a while with two guys that burned a building down. yes they were arrested. i was friends before and after the fire. they’re pretty nice, but this girl they used to date (at different times, they were brothers, yes it was fucking weird and uncomfortable for everyone involved except her but that’s it’s own thing) said some fucked up shit and it was the closest i ever got to starting a fight. anyway i’m still friends with both on facebook. one of them shares a lot of king of the hill memes

speaking of that fight, i 100% would’ve tried to kill her in that moment. u know that john mulaney quote like “i didn’t understand how a person could want to kill another person. then i got cheated on, and i was like ‘oh, okay.’”? that was me, but replace “cheated on” with she told me it was good my five year old sister was dead because she was a waste, and told me she hoped i’d die of covid”. it was mainly the sister thing. i couldn’t move because if i did i’d start a fight with the [way] above mentioned shit.

my family has a literal feud with a local farming family. i mean, we keep farm animals (sheep, goats, chickens), these people have that, pigs, and crops too. the feud was because their great uncle (or great grand uncle, i’m a little fuzzy on the details) published an autobiography (despite not being anyone famous/important) and in it talked about when he was friends with my grandfather and how creepy my great grandfather was (this was the one with the dead firstborn son) because he kept newspaper clippings of the Lindbergh baby’s kidnapping and murder pinned to a board on the wall of his office/basement. also because he was a child of german immigrants who wanted to fight against nazis in WW2 (how suspicious [sarcasm]). members of their family are in my grade. they charged my sister for almost half an extra pound of goods, too, which just revitalized it.

i live by corn fields. i am surrounded by cornfields. (joke one)

i was friends for a while with this girl whose baby teeth,,, didn’t really fall out completely? she was 17 the last time i saw her in person, she’s probably 19 now and judging by her facebook pictures they’re still Like That. she had a very symmetrical mouth/teeth, which made it weirder. just to clarify, she had some of her baby teeth pushed forward and up, so they kind pointed out a little? and all her adult teeth. she was literally so pretty.

a teacher who is v sexual with his female students came into my english class (he is a science teacher) to demand why i wasn’t signed up for his class. we then both became increasingly passive aggressive and he told the whole class where i live with specific directions and landmarks. the guy sitting next to me had to try to tone things down despite being obviously confused as to why it was even happening (me too buddy). he lives down the road from my sister. when my niece had her birthday party at our house i was outside setting things up and he slowed his car down and honked at me. fuckin creep

#tw child death #tw animal death #tw arson #i guess?#tw shooting #tw murder #a lot of that one actually #tw child abuse #tw violence #let me know if u think i should tag anything else #no one wanted this #except for me #tw cult

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

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silveryfairy · 3 years

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hey man if it's not too much trouble, could you give us a brief rundown of the Nocturnes? It's just, every morning I wake up and there's a new one, and I Care everyone in this establishment a lot though I don't really know them, thank you kindly have a nice day

let my preface this by saying: aayushi, i love you, and your enthusiasm and interest for the things i create never ceases to bring me joy. you are the kind of friend i think everyone should have and i say that completely genuinely outside of this bit.

i say that as an apology in advance for what i’m about to unleash upon you, because what you’re going to see is the product of my friend @himepapillon and i’s absolute BRAINROT and what comes of it when not only two people make an oc universe from scratch but what happens when we then have to explain that universe to other people

you are in no way required to retain this information as to be completely honest me and jeremie haven’t fully either and we’re the ones who MADE this shitshow. below is the shoddy family tree i lovingly crafted in ms paint

let us begin.

for starters, i’ll specify some things:

1. not every oc on this chart is mine, as it’s a collaboration between me and jeremie - the koenig family and bishop family belong to faer but the rest is all me baby! for the sake of your soul i will only be going into my half of this Mess

2. the universe this takes place in is a pretty wacky and silly one, just, like, Slightly removed from reality. these characters are all completely batshit insane and do things that no human being probably should. it’s all portrayed critically, as the general concept of this whole thing is “the goings-on of a bunch of unhinged corrupt rich people”. we kind of flip flop on how seriously stuff is played but if i had to slap a genre on this it’d be, like, black comedy drama. i know a lot of these concepts sound kinda fucked to write but that’s just because i’m trying to describe them in a SOMEWHAT concise way without going into Super Introspective mode

the nocturnes are an incredibly influential and rich family in the uk that tends to produce very influential and rich people. they’re also all a little bit insane. the main characters of this Saga are the sons of desmond and xanthes, the family’s resident Power Couple and biggest figureheads. they suck ass but that will become apparent the second i talk about their children.

from oldest to youngest, the nocturne boys are:

ichor nocturne, 25 - the eldest, ichor was disowned from the household when he was 18 for unruly behavior, sent to live alone on a farm so he couldn’t tarnish his family’s image any further. since then, you’d think the isolation has driven him a bit mad - he’s a very prolific cotton farmer and has been doing astonishingly well for himself, running his farm on his own with only his parents’ inheritance as help. ...that, and, of course, the blood of the people he executes to keep his crops growing - or so he believes. he moonlights as an executioner in the small town over, exterminating the ‘pests’ of the city. despite his newfound violence, he still routinely checks in on his siblings, finding ways to mysteriously end up at their door to pay visits. the older brother instinct still hasn’t left

icarus nocturne, 23 - the second eldest (only by technicality, as he is a twin), icarus is the family’s golden child! but not in terms of business or anything, oh no - icarus is a famous heartthrob teen (sorta) musician! he’s been in the limelight since he was a little boy, being an actor as a small child and getting into music as he grew. his general Look(tm), accompanied by infectiously happy rave music, is a trademark cutesy mask over his face with oversized clothing - meant to express as much energy as possible as he bounces about the stage. in reality, he lives a life as forced and controlled as possible by virtue of... living the fucked up life of a child star. but his parents have someone to take the fall - so, what of his twin?

achilles nocturne, 23 - icarus’ younger twin, which wouldn’t mean much... in any family but this one. achilles has had it drilled into his head since the beginning that he was a mistake next to icarus, to the point where legally, he does not exist. following icarus beginning his career, achilles was unpersoned completely - living in the family’s basement with the height of his education being for a very specific purpose... needing to be icarus’ body double on tours and for paparazzi - after all, they can’t have icarus’ purity tainted by all those clamboring fans! it’s a godawful situation. on the bright side, though, achilles has found a hobby where he can be himself: twitch streaming! yes really. under the name of 1upanonymous, hidden under a mask just like his brother, achilles at least has a fanbase that can love him for who he is! ...uh, kind of.

tomasine “tommy” nocturne, 16 - the youngest of the bunch, and it says a lot about his siblings’ capabilities that he’s the technical heir to the nocturnes’ various businesses and fortune. tommy is just a feral 16 year old that doesn’t give two shits about any fame or fortune, he just wants to party and drink and have fun like any other kid his age! he’s rebellious, loud, and charmingly annoying (to his brothers anyway), and has no real care for the gravity of his family’s situations beyond finding it annoying that they want him to be all PRIM and PROPER and BUSINESSY EEWWWWW. he’s just a funny loud little child trying to live his best life. loves his brothers fiercely

already a mess of people. and really, all you need to know about or really keep in mind are those four: the upcoming characters are largely just side ones we came up with because we thought it’d be funny to flesh out this fucked up family more. so let’s get into the anatra branch of the family - headed by jael nocturne, xanthes’ brother and the siblings’ uncle

jael anatra-nocturne, who i am not giving an age for my own sanity trying to decipher this fucking timeline - a crude and playful uncle, jael is someone the nocturne boys either love (icarus, tommy) or hate (achilles, ichor). constantly joking, as he expresses affection with loving insults - kind of a money-driven asshole, but a lovable one - he’s a career politician and met his current husband, joaquin, on the job. or, well... no longer current, because jael’s funny life of debauchery, toxic masculinity, and making fun of his nephews, came to an abrupt end when he was assassinated on live television. yipes!

joaquin anatra-nocturne, who also does not get an age - jael’s former secretary and current widow, joaquin is the local wine uncle. im not sure if that’s a classification but it is now, because he is one. an unapologetic gold-digger, he (publicly) took jael’s death frighteningly well, and is now living his best life with a revolving door of new boyfriends. his relationship with jael was a genuine and very loving one, and joaquin IS devastated by his death, but both of them just found the bit of pretending to be this loveless gold digger/politician couple very funny, and being as suspicious as possible around his husband’s death is exactly what jael would have wanted joaquin to do

taddeo anatra-nocturne, 14 - the youngest child of these two, a shy little boy with big Child In A Horror Movie energies. makes potions in the backyard and probably decorates his clothes with animal bones n stuff when he’s older. despite this he’s pretty harmless, nice and fiercely loyal - tommy especially thinks he’s fun and likes to hang out with him at family gatherings - just so long as you look past the creepy dolls he likes to talk to and fires he likes to set. especially close with jael and wants to be a miniature version of him, buuut still being a shy tween taddeo hasn’t been able to act on that much.

dailon anatra-nocturne, 20 - the adopted second child of jael and joaquin, dailon is a moody and unstable delinquent that was snatched up by them just as he was about to age out of foster care. while he has a chill ‘cool-older-even-though-he’s-younger-cousin’ demeanor, the tension when he’s around his parents - jael specifically - can be cut with a knife. dailon hates his dad: ‘someone who expresses affection with insults and jokes and likes seeing people pissed at him’ and ‘someone who’s volatile, short-tempered, and sullen after living in a foster home most his life’ are just as bad of a combination as you’d expect. dailon gets himself into a lot of trouble, and is an overall very self-centered prick, but we’ll get more on that in a bit.

HELL FAMILY...2!!! that’s the last of the families to cover, buuuut there are still some other names on that list - mostly connected to dailon. this is REAL “just going on in the background” shit that you also do not need to know whatsoever (except for mitzi she’s pretty important she’s just down here for organization purposes) - i just like to play god and make characters get into drama.

[tw: cheating, unhealthy relationships, stalking]

mitzi “moon” altberg, 23 - achilles must feel very far away by now, but we’re back to him for a second! mitzi is his ex-girlfriend he met online, a fan-to-employee-to-lover and one of the maybe two people outside of the family achilles has shown his real face to. however, achilles growing up deeply unstable - between his parents’ abuse, having spotlights on him and adoring fans both as icarus’ body double and as a streamer, and in general not really growing up to be any kind of well developed human being - made this relationship a complete disaster. he grew obsessive and controlling - and when she tried to ignore him, he broke his one rule (to never go outside without permission) to find the hotel she was staying at in real life and show up to confront her. the incident was completely covered up, both by the nocturnes and with their connections, and so mitzi was forced to stay silent. this entire thing is based on this song! as time heals wounds, though, mitzi will end up doing pretty well for herself and putting achilles behind her - even getting a new boyfriend, jared!

reynard fiala, 20 - dailon’s (ex-)boyfriend, who he’s enraveled in his own weird soap opera subplot with. reynard is a relatively chill person, with an interest in art and taxidermy - just as morbid as dailon’s brother, but in a more. Normal way. genuinely a sweetheart who does not deserve what happens to them: getting cheated on with dailon’s best friend. yipes^2! while it's earth shattering in the moment, all reynard will really want to do come some time to process is to move on and for him and dailon both to heal in peace... far away from eachother (which is easier said than done since taddeo thinks reynard is super cool and loves having him over, the awkwardness between them and his brother be damned)

jared summers, 21 - the most normal person here. a longterm best friend of dailon’s, and yes, the very same one i just mentioned. he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer - what we in the industry would call a himbo if his dumbassery didn’t cause very real damage - who had been pining for dailon for years and him dating was no deterrent, and dailon, thinking the world revolves around him as he tends to do, accepted jared’s confession so they just kinda started dating on the side. jared has the moral backbone of a pool noodle, and even after it causes dailon’s relationship with reynard to fall apart, will need a wholeass intervention to be staged to make them both realize just how shitty they’re being. after that, though, jared will end that mess and be on his way to becoming a better person himself - with the help of a sweet girl he’s met online.

jared and mitzi dating in the future is the most contrived thing on the planet but just hear me out that it’ll be HILARIOUS for achilles to check in on his ex-girlfriend and find she’s dating his cousin’s best friend, who said cousin was apparently dating on the side. very small world, it is.

anyway, thank you if you’ve somehow stuck around to read this entire thing - this isn’t even getting into jeremie’s half of this whole ordeal, which includes some of these fellas’ friends and partners, as well as more crazy rich people nonsense. it’s been very fun to think about and i do love it all dearly, even if putting it all together it’s SUCH a mess.

we don’t intend to make anything Legit out of this, it’s honestly just a fun way to pass the time. it’s the adult equivalent of playing dollhouse. in our minds this is like a 20 season soap opera but actually explaining it to other people it’s just like this

but thank you again for letting me babble i hope it was somewhat entertaining! and again, godspeed if you managed to read this much XD

#nocturnes #ichor nocturne #icarus nocturne #achilles nocturne #tommy nocturne #jael anatra nocturne #joaquin anatra nocturne #taddeo anatra nocturne #dailon anatra nocturne #mitzi moon #jared summers #reynard fiala

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resilenceandselfcarebyjasmine · 3 years

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Hi Everyone!

My Name is Jasmine Lalonde, I am a 26 year old female and live in York Region with my husband and 2 children. To say life is hectic is and understatement. You can typically find me at the barn or softball diamond, if I’m not there I’m at the cheer gym with my daughter!

Growing up school was a huge part of my life, I excelled academically and loved playing on most of the sports teams as well as the extra curricular clubs. Once high school was over I attended Georgian College for Child and Youth and work. Quickly realized this field was not for me and withdrew from school. After a few years off raising my family the pandemic made for an easy choice of going back to school. I wanted to help people in a more hands off way, 911 Emergency Communications ticked off every box on my checklist and I am so glad it did! I am now in second year at Durham College studying 9-1-1 Emergency and Call Centre Communications.

My goal for Emergency Communications is to end up dispatching for EMS. I have a good understanding in the medical field and being a mom of two young children have sadly had to call 911 for an ambulance more times then I would like. I hope to make my experiences as the caller (not all good) assist me in being an excellent dispatcher while helping people in some of the scariest moments of their life.

Three interesting facts about me :

1. I grew up on dairy farm where we also had horses and pigs! I’ve been riding horses since before I could walk! Growing up on working farm gives you a whole different outlook on animals and now as an adult the cost of groceries.

2. I’ve worked at the olympics! I had the opportunity to attend the 2016 Summer Olympics In Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. I worked as one of the grooms for Team Canada’s show jumping captain Eric Lamaze.

3. I love to travel! Before the pandemic I was lucky enough to travel twice a year! I have travelled to countries in 6 of the 7 continents. My 2 favourite countries are Germany and New Zealand!

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thejosh1980 · 4 years

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So, how is she handling it?

My wife and I have been together for about a year.

In that time we've talked a lot, fallen in love, moved in together, gotten married, survived the first German lockdown, packed up our life, said goodbye to our careers, friends and family, after months of flight delays we moved half way around the world, quarantined for 2 weeks and now we are almost 6 weeks into our “new” life.

Phew, that was a lot!

As I've recently blogged, I'm “surviving”. Although I am back in the place where I grew up, I don't quite feel at home...

But what about Alex?

After all, this is her first time down under, and it isn't going to be a short visit either. With the pandemic and visa options currently available, we doubt coming or going would be an option for either us, for a couple of years.

How is she handling it? How does she feel? What's going through her mind?

Obviously, I can't answer for her, she would be the best person to tell you how she feels...

However, I can tell you what I see and feel. Especially the part where I am watching someone learn about living in this part of the world for the first time.

Alex is often overwhelmed. Excited. Shy. Confident. Unsure. Worried. Concerned. Lost. Enthusiastic. Happy. Frustrated. Empowered. Embarrassed. Indifferent. Delighted. Grateful. And.... inspiring.

Sometimes all in one day!

Well, that's how I see things anyhow. I have to remind myself often that when we are doing any number of things, the sights, the smell and the situation are all relatively normal to me, but for her, it's all new.

Seeing her excitement about something she found in a store, which reminds her of, or even better, it's exactly like, something from the USA that she hasn't seen in years. Or something that is German, that reminds her of Christmas or a night out she had... Or, something completely new that isn't from any world she's previously experienced.

Basically, that's the 3 options...

We often discuss the differences between country and culture. Sometimes short, sometimes long discussions... We've both lived in at least 3 different countries, and overlap a bit, but both our experiences have been quite different, until now.

Now we are doing this together...

Alex often takes forever to find something in a supermarket, not so much because she can't find the right aisle, but because once she's in it, it overwhelms her. There's a lot to take in, even at Coles (which, for all the Germans, is Kaufland). How many different types of sauce is there? How many different cheeses are there? (You get the picture).

Alex has already started applying for jobs. She can't start until her next visa kicks in, but she's getting prepared. Seeing her excited about work is a lot of fun and inspiring.

A new career. New country. New challenges.

I was a bit surprised she found a path so easily (completely the opposite to me, where I have too many paths to wander along). I'm excited for her!! Fortunately, I can even help her too, some of my contacts from 20+ years ago, are coming in handy to help her along the way!

We've managed to see quite a few native animals during walks and drives. Echidnas, wallabies, plenty of birds, lizards, geckos, skinks, goannas and the other week I took Alex up the coast to hand feed lorikeets....

Sometimes she's smiling, sometimes she's concerned, sometimes she lets out a scream... Oh, and yeah, she's run away a few times too! All in good fun, all fun to watch!!! Nothing has come close to killing her yet!

She's obviously not sure about spiders. By not sure, I mean scared to death. That's OK, even I have been privileged to live in a country or two without a 10thof the deadlies that lurk here. I'll get used to it, as she will too.

We'll be expanding on the animal kingdom experiences as time goes on....

We went to the local video store!!

Yes, there is one in this small coastal town. Maybe the last one for a 100 miles, but there is a video rental store. It's been there since I was a teenager, family owned. In fact, I went to school with the daughter of the family who runs it, and we are still friends and she still works there from time to time.

We walked in and Alex flipped her lid.

She was like a kid in a candy store. I had to limit the amount of DVDs we could rent that day, otherwise she'd have taken out a 100 or more DVDs... Again, so many options... so overwhelmed.

Even with the ease of streaming services, the old school way of going to the store, choosing a video, getting some chocolate or popcorn, is just, freakin' awesome. And by the look on her face, she felt it through and through. It was a nostalgic moment, which I'm sure will be repeated, often.

I've taken Alex to a few waterfalls, short hikes, farming countryside, forests, windy mountain roads, sunrises, moonrises and beaches... That sounds like a lot, but in fact here, you could also most do all of that in just 1 day. There's a lot on offer in the natural landscape.

We do enjoy walks along the dog beach. We both miss our dogs, so it's nice to see happy puppies running around an almost deserted beach. One day we'll walk our own dogs there...

We have been shopping... A lot! Like, almost every other day... It's not that Alex spends a lot of money, but she loves to see all the new things on offer here. I don't know how many times I've heard her gasp and then, with wide eyes, show me a shirt or outfit she likes, or a store she's super excited about... Or a story about how she's always wanted that kind of overalls, but hadn't found them until now.

Alex has started driving. It's really her first time on the “wrong side”, and after we got her a lesson with my driving instructor from the 90's, I've taken over the duties of helping her navigate the wrong side of the road with confidence. Things have been going well. Although I think the way some folks drive over here, she'll never get used to someone tailgating or not indicating... But neither will I...

Germans taught me how to drive... I hope I don't unlearn those skills! When it comes to driving, I hope she doesn't become like the locals...

During Halloween, Alex had an afternoon nap and slept through one of the strongest storms we've had since we've been here. Hail, strong winds and lots of rain. I guess she found the winds and noises peaceful...

She then got to treat a bunch of neighborhood kids and watch a scary movie, so the day wasn't ruined.

It's a bit like a young child learning about the ways of the world. It's fascinating to watch. Sometimes her questions are so random... Sometimes they're really deep and worth an answer (not a laugh) and sometimes she's too stunned to respond!

Her reactions to local slang and dialect, well that look of confusion will be a regular occurrence until she settles in a little more.

Even I forgot how dry the sense of humor is here.

It's been a real gas watching Alex integrate... Soon she'll be off driving herself to work, making her own friends and finding a few adventures of her own... But for now, I am a very happy and proud husband holding her hand, taking her wherever her heart desires...

Thanks for reading

Josh, @dogsaremypatronus @dauntlesscoffee

#happy wife happy life #relationship #couple goals #marriage

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talesofealdancynedom · 3 years

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Meriam Craweleoth & Felin Haracwen, as girls in normal nobles clothes, wandering the local magic forest; Hope you didn’t forget chapter one, because it’s about to hurt.

Tale 19: Meriam Craweleoth: Mage Queen of The Grand West (chapter 10.1 -

Another Day 10/10) part 4. Stories of Old

Maps

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At dawn, Meriam, Fredrick, and Eatheltwein, headed down to the dining hall for breakfast. To their surprise, they saw they had a guest; who was sitting across from princess Charlette, Eathel’s new wife. No one had stopped their intruder for one reason: they had seen him before.

Murdoc was helping himself at the table, surrounded by books, and his panther familiar Stearra, purring at his ankles. He ate like a small child, that just learned to use a spoon. Everyone took their seat, as the servants brought them dishes. They all ate their food quietly as dawn light poured in.

“Pardon me, master Monafyra-” The king started.

“You can call me Murdoc.” He said, without looking up. The pure audacity made everyone in the room livid, but not so much as to make any of them speak up.

“Yes. Murdoc... Why are you in my dinning room? And how and when did you intrude our palace?”

“I walked in the front of course,” Mudoc said, continuing to eat. He was wearing his plum and black wolf fairy robes, which made apear like an animal. He looked older than Meriam had remembered; she had lost track of time.

“You had many guards, but none of them stopped me. Either they knew who I was, or what I was. All of this is irrelevant to the fact I came to deliver some news; again. Then, there was gravy, eggs, and bread; And I saw no point in refusing the kindness of others.” Murdoc continued, whilst gesticulating and chewing. Fredrick waved his hand, letting Murdoc carry on; now that he had finished his food.

“I come to give lord Eatheltwein my journals, as I am retiring form magic to settle down in my homeland; don’t seek me. King Edmond used his power to give me refuge. Th people of The Far North believe mages can be made to give up magic. Your kingdom however, Meriam, is not so polite. I have visited each of our mage friends, only to see a trail of bodies. All our dear friends are nothing more then illustrations of tragedy, on my parchment. At the hands of wizards, I’m sorry to say. Common folk no longer think that mages are necessary to wield magic; as if that’s was all our worth. Even my brother Tiberius, and his daughter Fyra, turned out to be dead on my way here. I have good stealth magic to evade people. Unlike you, Craweleoth.”

“You come to tell us mages are dying, wizardry is spreading, and that the people of the Grand West of Anglia, are coming to kill my wife?” the king coughed.

“Aunt Merry can use time magic; she can get away, I’m sure.” Eatheltwein said, looking at Meriam, who stared back in fear. Everyone knew of the Mage Queen, but no one knew Eatheltwein was a mage. They had been led to believe he was a wizard, just as she had planned.

“You have all the time to run away Meriam, but no matter which way you turn, the events that transpire in Ealden Cynedom always snap back; you will die. Eventually. They will come for you shortly, I suppose.” Murdoc said. Then he read the room. Meriam looked petrified, Charlette was confused, Eathel was sad, and the king looked unwell. “I know death when I see it, my lady.” He concluded. Murdoc got up, thanked the servants, left all his journals next to Eathel and Meriam, and left.

“On a good note, we were invited to the borders of Francia, by my king father; to shake hands for peace! Aren’t you happy Queen Merry? Peace at last! We can all heal because of you.” Charlette chimed. The king coughed on his food, and Meriam rubbed his shoulder staring unblinkingly at Charlette. Eatheltwein seemed exuberant. Charolette’s words did not comfort Meriam. She was equally scared to go to boarder. Meriam hadn’t been there since she was off to get married; and saw her friend be murdered by her own people. To think, she was excited not two days earlier.

The royal court traveled steadily to the border between Francia, and Anglia. It rained, and then it shined, and then they reached the open meadows, that were starting to yellow as harvest season approached. Both parties stood a hill apart. Charlette waved to her father, who walked forward.

“Dear, I still feel unwell. Would you like to shake for peace? This was your mission.” Fredrick asked. Meriam nodded. She slowly walked forward through the grass. It smelled woody and dry, and brushed her skirt like when she used to run around as a girl. She continued onward. The uniforms of the Francian guards accompanying their king, hung loose, and their faces were sad and tiered. Meriam continued. Just at the border pole, Meriam stopped; there was some clover blooming by it, and dirt trailing along the boarder. The king stopped and held out his hand. He was not happy.

“Mage Queen. Your nephew is pleased with my girl, who appears to be in good care. We are tiered, and we wish to retire. Why do you not shack on peace, now that I’m repenting for my foolish legacy? Instead, you stare at clover that is at our feet.” The Francian king snapped. Meriam stared at it, and a tear went down her face.

“Did you know I was born in Francia, by Fort De Lapin. The magic forest of The Rat Rate. I grew up here, and I learned magic here. My mother left, thus my father found the daughter of a warlock, who had also recently had a baby. My milk sister Filen Heracwen, meant the world to me. She died here, trying to see me off as I was forced to marry against my will; she was shot by one of your men, for trying to leave with me. Possibly to send a massage of your own people, the reason doesn’t matter. I bet there isn’t anyone alive who remembers her name, or that she loved magic and her kingdom. She wanted to be my hand maid, and go with me on quests. Yet she died here, without a family to burry her, or siblings to mourn her. She passed before she could wed; unlike me, She wanted to merry a farm boy, and have three kids. Have her first daughter named Odette. Felin thought it was a pretty name for a girl. She went dark to open the Rat Gate, even though she was a commoner, because she loved magic so much, she wanted help it. Yet, she died before wizardry could give her that. And her only kin, uncle Normanwe was not there for her, because he was dying on your behalf in far off battle. I look at the clover, because it reminds me of her. This is the closest thing she will ever get to a funeral. Fourty years too late. I am sad, because I never got to attend. I am sad, because a young lady needlessly died, when she had a future in front of her. I am sad soldiers would kill a civilian. I am sad I got taken away from my home, and now that I am back, I wish to leave.” Meriam sobbed. Her voice echoed across the field to both sides, as it grew in volume and tears. Everyone stopped, and looked at the clover. Everyone had forgotten, or was oblivious to, why Meriam wanted to stop the war so badly. It wasn’t because she saw Francia was an enemy; but because she didn’t want anyone else to die. It was too sad. Meriam didn’t want to have this funeral. Everyone began to cry, and not know why. In the absence of a head stone, or body, they felt like they were attending the wake of not just a girl, who could have lived, but for everyone they loved who died; For a war that had long lost its purpose, and unjustly claimed many. Everyone, on every side, had lost someone. And no one, on either side, had truly had the time and relief to just mourn. Meriam, who was considered the most formidable player around the world, reached out and shock the king’s hand. She held her chest and went to her knees wailing alone in the field. Shacking the hand of a man who was responsible for her pain. At long last, Meriam no longer felt hate, only pain.

When they arrived home, the king was ill. No doctor could figure out why, but he remained in bed. Meriam tended him, while Eatheltwein took up royal duties. Fredrick would not get better, no matter the rest or medicine provided. Meriam even tried magic methods. She was given her own chambers, as they feared she would catch his sickness. Then one mourning, the doctor came to Meriam in her study, and told her the man she loved, wed, and had shaped her whole life, was dead. He had lived long, but Meriam wished she could give him more time. She could, with magic, but she pushed away that intrusive thought. We will all die eventually; she could hear Murdoc say in her mind. But time is precious, and she could not let go of the possibility of saving everyone, if she went back for them. Meriam took three days to leave her bed. And wore her purple dress to Eatheltwein’s coronation, and to dance with him. She did not smile like the last time she was adorned like a courtly lady. She wondered if Fredrick would have liked to see her wear his favourite dress one last time. She even wore her Francian pearls, from when she was young, but was never aloud to wear. She wore no makeup, and had a pearl comb holding her hair back in a knot. In the mirror, she had aged half that of her husband, due to magic changing her appearance.

Before bed, she took off the dress and held it; the fabric was still warm. In her bath, Meriam realized she loved that dress too. It felt like she was dancing with Fredrick again when she wore it. Remined her of his smell and smile. The dress was perfect, and barely worn. It was light, airy, flowy, soothing, and feminine. Unlike her black crushed velvet fairy robes. Her protective fairy robes were a magic gift made by the Fairy King, yet had half the value of that periwinkle gown. Then, Meriam wondered something: if all mages had fairy robes, which protect against spell and sword, why did they all die if they knew wizards were coming? Why did they choose to remove their robes and surrender to death? She thought. Meriam did not sleep well, as she mulled over mortality, and impending doom. She didn’t want everyone’s stories to end while hers continued. Her bed felt so cold without Fredrick next to her.

In the middle of the night, Eatheltwein came into Meriam’s new chambers, and sat next to her bed.

“Are you awake, aunt Merry?” He asked. Meriam shrugged in response. Eathel put the candle on the side table, and lay next to her on top of the sheets.

“Charlette told me to come and see how you’re doing; without uncle. I am so sad. We have peace at our borders, and wives hold their husbands; but you are alone. No other mages, children, or husband. Just me. I will miss you too someday. Are you also scared of the Wizards? What will you do if they come here for the raven gate, and for you?” Eatheltwein whispered. Meriam never thought about that. She was busy wishing for other people.

“I wish you to tell everyone you’re a wizard, and to not go into the shadow veil to see your cousin Odette. I want you to hide, bury or destroy the Raven Gate, so no one wanders into it. I want you to be happy, when I’m gone.”

“You would let them take you, so that they can feel secure? Even if it is a lie, and mages will still be born to magic families?”

“I don’t know. But I think that may have been what happened to my friends around the world. Remember Eathel; magic does not have sides, or possess malice. It would make sense not to fight, and instead accept destiny.”

“I don’t think your capable of either of those thing’s, aunt Merry.” Eatheltwein laughed. He was still a source of sunshine. Meriam reached over her sheets to hold his hand.

“Can you stay? For tonight.” Meriam asked. Eatheltwein nodded.

“Can we go on one last adventure, before I’m a wizard and king, figuring out how to transition power before our people invent guillotines. For old times sake?” Eatheltwein asked earnestly. Meriam laughed and grabbed his hand closer.

“Yes. Yes, we may your majesty. I think Fredrick would have wanted us to be happy too.”

Just before dawn, while the servants woke and prepared for the day, Eatheltwein and Meriam snuck out of the palace in their fairy robes. A note was left for Charlette; telling her to keep their location secret, unless they never returned. Which she was inclined to do, as keeping secrets is exciting if you’re a noble woman. In the streets, the peasants were busy starting work and waking, and the knights were changing shifts. Merchants started to set up, or pack to leave to their next market. Meriam didn’t even need to freeze time to get by. Only as they reached the Raven Gate, in the square, did Meriam pause time.

“Eathel, where do you want to go?” Meriam said, clasping his hands in excitement. She had hit the point of sadness, that results in manic giddiness when you can no longer cry, and have sleep depravation.

“Bantia! I’ve never herd or seen a single person from the land south the of Dania, and north of The Far South of Hispania. I bet that is the only magic forest you haven’t seen aunt Merry!” Eathltwein gleamed with the glow of dawn.

“No, actually I haven been to the wolf gate in North Moon, nor plan to…. Which means Bntia must have the Tree Gate… Magic plants… That colourful forested area in the shadow veil.” Meriam mused. Now she was curious; her seer nature made her thirst for magic knowledge once more. Meriam grasped Eatheltweins hand, and they leapt into the shadow veil through the Raven Gate one last time.

NEXT--->

<---PREVIOUS

#art #tales of ealdan cynedom #short stories #fantasy #meriam #felin #eatheltwein

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

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centipedall · 3 years

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The father had staggered into my office a few days earlier. He had told me that his three children and his wife had all taken ill, afflicted with some debilitating disease. The youngest had contracted it first, and it had quickly spread to the rest of the family. He was afraid that soon he would be infected and that no one would be able to care for one another. The man was sweating bullets and scratching at his armpits, neck, and groin. I asked him to stay with me for a check up, but he quickly refused and left. I spent the next two days trying to figure out just who he was and where he lived. On the third, I prepared my materials for a house call. On the fourth day, I went to the homestead.

The homestead was a small farm located a good ways out of town, about a three hour walk and roughly half that by horse or wagon. It had been a hot, humid, July, and today was no exception. The month’s weather appeared to have taken its toll on the crops- a good deal of them were dead. I stopped my horse up near the house and dismounted it. I grabbed my various bags- one with general instruments, one with medicinal instruments, and one with surgical instruments- and walked up to the door. I knocked four times, with approximately two minutes between each series of knocks. After an additional three minutes, I loudly stated my name and purpose for visiting. No one answered. I decided that I would not have ridden out here for nothing, and so I tried the door handle and found it unlocked. I opened the door and was immediately struck by a putrid stench that would have knocked a lesser man off his feet.

The house was decently sized, with a kitchen, a living space with a fireplace, a master bedroom, and a room for the children. A good deal of dust covered the floorboards and the furniture. Several rats scurried into the dark corners, alerted by my entrance. The entire house was hotter than outside, a wet kind of heat that enhanced the godawful smell. It was the smell of rotten food, almost, mixed with a distinct scent of pus and blood reminiscent of what I had encountered back during my military days with the Union. This was not going to be a good day.

I called out once more, announcing my name and occupation. There was no answer, but for a wet wheezing that- ah. Interesting. The labored breathing seemed to emanate from the master bedroom and the childrens’ room. I went into the latter first- you should always put the safety of children above any adult.

The door was tough to open, but I managed to bash it open on my third attempt. I stumbled into the small bedroom and- by God. The smell was easily ten times what it had been in the main area of the house, but that was not what stunned me. Rather, it was the sight of the two children in the beds. Their silhouettes were no longer human- their bodies were marred by hundreds of swollen glands that had almost sealed them to their beds. The pus-filled things grew upon one another, creating something like a tower of abscesses that sprawled across the body. The growths were focused on the armpits, groin, and neck, but they had managed to cover a great distance. The child on the left suffered from these slightly more than the one on the right- the left boy had almost his entire face covered by blister-like nodules, but for one of his eyes. It stared at me with a combination of pain, fear, and hope.

After observing the buboes, I noticed the cause of the blood and rot smells. The children’s extremities had gangrene, and what was uncovered by the growths was black and shriveled, especially along the fingers and toes. As I walked into the room, rats scurried off of the bodies. They had congregated around the necrotized tissue. I could not bear to look at what they had done to these children. Instead, I kneeled by the leftmost boy and took out my least favorite instrument. I injected an overdose of morphine into his carotid artery and did the same to his sister on the right. Then I sat in the room with them until their breathing had stopped.

Once I had completed my duty, I went into the master bedroom. There was a single bed, with one- no, with two occupants. The disease had almost merged them together, but I managed to see a small shape laying on an adult body. I walked closer, and could see telltale signs of female physiology on the adult body. This was evidently the mother and the youngest son. The mother was less far gone than her two children- she was able to speak.

“Mrs. Carolson, I presume. My name is George Waller. Your husband came to me four days ago to ask for my assistance in this matter.” I said.

“Help me.” She wheezed.

“Ma’am, I am afraid that this is beyond the capacity to cure. I- I may have to-” I broke off, unsure of how to continue.

“Did you- save them. My children.”

“I- yes. Don’t worry, they’re fine. The disease wasn’t as hard on them as it was on you.”

She looked at me with tears in her eyes. “Do it. Please.”

I did the same to her that I did to her sons. I turned to the youngest child that had grown onto her body like a mountain of abscesses. The child- it was already gone. This was quickly becoming the worst day of my life. I left the room and sat out on the back porch. There was a shed and four graves out there- children lost to tuberculosis, probably. I’m not sure how long I sat there- it was enough for the sun to set on me, for sure. It was then, in the middle of the night, that I saw a rustling in the shed. I remembered the father, and immediately went to open it. Maybe there was one person I could still save.

I almost died the moment I tried to walk in. There was a massive hole in the ground, one that went deep enough that I could not see the bottom. I could still smell the rot, pus, and blood coming from out of it. I returned to my wagon, grabbed a lantern, and immediately began to descend into the darkness.

It was tough. I had already had a long day, and although the hole leveled into a slope after the first ten feet, it was still steep enough that I needed to watch my step. I walked down there for an hour at least, and as I did the tunnel walls became distinctly less earthy and more, uh, meaty. It smelled like the people had, and I made sure to keep my distance, but I believe that there were abscesses lining the walls. I could see bits and pieces of bone- nothing human, more like rodents and the occasional predator- although there were a few bison skulls embedded in the walls, too.

Eventually, I came to the end of the tunnel. It turned into a wide, circular space with a central stone dais. On that dais was the father. He was relatively healthy- there were a good deal of abscesses on him, but it was nothing intensive surgery couldn’t solve. I was so excited that I could save someone that I immediately walked towards him. He looked at me, and the terror in his eyes stopped me cold.

That saved my life, because if I had continued any further I would have walked right into one of the things that was scurrying about on the floor. It was quadrupedal, like a rodent, although it was much larger. If I had to estimate, the creature was about the size of the average dog. It also had a tail and a head, but that was where the similarities ended. Its skin resembled a doll’s, some kind of white porcelain plate. It was severely cracked, exposing flesh like that of a human’s, blistered red and leaking pus. The creature had a small, whiplike tail. It had forelimbs with opposable thumbs and prehensile feet. The animal had a porcelain face, like a pale woman covered in makeup. The face was vaguely humanoid in outline, but the painted patterns on it were wild, abstract, and bright. The eyeholes were crusted over by dried pus. It looked at me and opened its doll mouth, hissing in surprise. A wet, fleshy tube covered in abscesses waved at me. There were two ratlike buckteeth sticking out of the end of it. Some kind of yellow fluid oozed out of it. A similar fluid leaked from behind the creature- looking at one of the others, it appeared that they had a distended, slightly prolapsed anus. These things- I do not know why, but they reminded me of Rats.

I looked at the man on the dais, and saw that there were lines carved in the floor that lead to it. Pus leaked from his body, down through these lines. The lines led to massive pools of the pus, where the Rats lapped from. Again, the father motioned to me. The Rats noticed his movement and piled on him. Tubes licked at him and the abscesses progressed. Then the Rats looked back at me. I turned and ran.

I sprinted through the tunnels, hoping to escape the Rats. I could hear them behind me, scrabbling along the floor. My foot caught on something, and I almost fell. I stopped myself by pushing my hand into the wall, where it punctured with a wet squelch. My hand went in up to the elbow before it stopped. I pulled my hand out of the meaty wet wall and continued to run. Then I clambered up the hole and out of the tunnel.

I listened for the Rats for about five minutes. Then I mounted my horse and rode away. The next day, I returned with my horse. We were laden with oil and matches. Once the house finished burning, I made sure that the hole to the tunnels was blocked. I went back to my office, where I wrote this letter. I believe that I have been infected by the disease- my armpits, groin, and neck all itch. I have felt a general malaise about me, interrupted by occasional chills. Finally, and perhaps most damningly, I have noticed the growth of pus-filled abscesses on my body.

Do not worry about the infectiousness of this letter- I have sterilized it properly. Please do not try to save me- I will likely be already dead. I have prepared an overdose for myself, and I will burn down my office. I have not been home since before the incident, so do not burn down my house.

I ask that a Mr. John Downes take over medicine for this town until we have a new doctor, and that all of my remaining possessions be given to them. I ask for my body to be buried next to my wife and child, may they rest in peace. And although I have no right, I ask for a Christian burial. I may have previously expressed that I felt there was no God, but I now believe that to be the product of naivety and grief. This world is far larger than any man has dreamt of, I believe. I used to believe that man produced all the ills of the world- war, sin, and death were our own fault. I now understand that all of our science, all of our knowledge, it pales in comparison to what is truly out there.

And although I have only thus far interacted with the most dismal, horrible parts of our existence, I hope with all of my heart that there is something equally beautiful, equally wonderful waiting out there for me. Where there are Rats, there must also be Lions, yes?

#body horror #rats #disease #Pretentious Animals

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cowboisadness · 3 years

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Hang Em’ High {FemOC x Arthur Morgan} Chapter 7

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC

Summary: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

. . . . .

Bear hide, a deer and deer hides along with a few rabbits and many herbs thanks to Charles means we will all be eating well for the next week or so. It was a successful hunt, given what happened.

This morning had been slow, helping Pearson prepare today's meals, reading, and laundry. I was trying to think of other ways I could contribute, to prevent myself from going mad doing the same things every day, I don't know how the other girls do it.

Doing laundry with the other girls, Tilly and Mary-Beth, helped the time go by a bit quicker than a snail's pace.

They reminded me a lot of my childhood friends that I grew up with, daughters of the neighbouring farm.

I missed them terribly and hoped wherever they were, they would be safe and happy. I miss our conversations, talking about boys, the latest clothing that was in fashion in New York, Paris and London, politics, women's rights, you know, the usual girl talk. Conversations with the girls at camp were not much different, just a bit more impure and harsh than I was used to. It was all fun and games until they started asking if I had my eye on anyone in camp.

“Don't be shy, Bella. Must be someone you find easy on the eyes here.” Mary Beth giggled

“After my experience, I wouldn't say no to never involving myself with a man again.”

“There are good men out there, finding the right one just takes time. If only it was as simple as it is in the books. Bumping into them one evening and then riding off into the night together.”

Me and Tilly share a humorous look, stifling our laughter.

“Anyway, life ain't just about finding the one and settling down. You can always have fun...and rob them after.” Tilly says, causing the three of us to burst into laughter. “What’re you three gigglin’ about?” Arthur interjects from behind us, causing all of us to jump in surprise.

“Just lady things Mr Morgan” Tilly replies, Arthur letting out a doubtful huff before turning his attention to me.

“You still wantin’ that shootin’ lesson Miss Bella?”

“Of course. Now?”

“If you're free” I looked over to the other girls, silently asking for permission to leave them with the rest of my chores. Thankfully they did.

“Yeah, I’m free now” I smiled up at him.

“Get sorted and I'll meet you at the horses.” He smiled back and walked off towards his tent.

Turning my attention to finish off washing the shirt in my hands as quickly as possible, I could feel eyes boring into the back of my skull, waiting for me to look over to them. I couldn't, I just hoped they couldn't see the sudden blush forming on my cheeks.

“Don't get any ideas. He's just teaching me how to shoot.” Keeping my eyes on the shirt I was working on with haste and earning myself more doubtful hums and giggles.

I changed into pants and holstered my gun before making my way over to Arthur and his horse. He helped me up in one swift motion before mounting himself.

As we were leaving camp we passed Tilly and Mary-Beth, now working on the few garments I had left. Both watching us as I shook my head at them.

“Don't forget to have fun Bella” Tilly shouted over as we left, shaking my head again, thankful to be sat behind Arthur but hoping he wouldn't look back as I was blushing once again.

“What she talking about?”

“Oh, i don't really know.”

. . . . .

We stopped off in Valentine to buy more ammo before heading towards the heartlands, finding a hilled area away from any roads. Arthur had brought along loads of empty beer and whiskey bottles and set them up in a line on a large rock. He handed me his carbine repeater and pushed me forward slightly, starting a few feet away from the bottles.

“Let’s see what you know then.”

I held the gun up, placing the butt onto my shoulder and tilting my head down the sight, gripping with both hands.

Taking a few breaths and aiming for a large whiskey bottle, I pulled back on the trigger quickly as I let out a breath.

The repeater shot back into my shoulder abruptly, pain shooting through my arm and neck, knocking back a few steps. No shattering of glass was heard, just my gasps of pain and Arthur's laugh at my spectacular failure.

“You ain’t standing right or holding it right.” he starts walking over, positioning the gun to sit snugly against my shoulder, away from my collarbone, then moving my hand further down the forestock, telling me not to grip too tightly and to rest my cheek on the stock naturally.

He then moves to stand behind me placing his hands on my shoulders, gently turning me to the right a few degrees. He barely removes his hands as he trails them down to my hips, tightening and turning me slightly to the left, then kicking my feet further apart, placing them in a more steady position.

My eyes are focusing on the bottles down the sight, my mind on his hands, still gripping onto my hips.

“Steady your breathing, pull the trigger with empty lungs.”

Steady my breathing? Impossible when I can feel his breath on my neck. But I will try. Try to focus on my breathing, to keep my feet planted firmly. All while taking in how warm his hands are through my clothing, his grip not faltering. Inhale… Exhale… Shoot…

Glass shatters ahead of me. The Whiskey bottle now no more.

Lowering the gun I looked over to the rock to confirm I did actually hit it, grinning from ear to ear.

“Well done. Now the others.” He finally releases his hands but remains right behind me.

We carry on till no bottles are left, which took a while, missing more than I hit with each round but getting better each time. Arthur would correct my stance whenever needed, his hands seemingly calling themselves at home on my waist each time he did so.

Before long there were no more bottles left to be shattered. It was harder than I originally imagined with having to focus on more things than just aiming and pulling the trigger. I’d need to practice more, that's for sure. Thanking Arthur for his help, returning his gun to him we decided to relax beneath a large tree nearby to escape the afternoon sun, sharing a chocolate bar between us as we talked.

“Ya still planning on leaving since you're all healed now?”

“I don't know. Not sure where i would go anyway.” He hummed in response and took another piece of chocolate, handing the last two pieces to me. “I do have a brother in New York somewhere. If he's even still there i wouldn't know where to find him.” I took the last piece of chocolate into my mouth, letting it melt on my tongue to savour the sweetness. “Ya could always stay with us. Sure ya won't always have a soft bed or grand meals but we can keep you safe.”

“It's funny...i feel safer with a gang of outlaws than i did in a grand house with personal security.” I said as I gave a hollow laugh.

It was true I did feel much safer. I didn't need to sleep with one eye open or feel like I was always walking on eggshells, waiting for the inevitable crack. I don't care about having a soft bed, given that recently has been the best I've slept in months, apart from the odd nightmare that wakes me. They have always been the same. I’m standing out in a lush valley, the sun is shining, the breeze is cool and the birds are singing. The camp behind me filled with the now-familiar chatter and laughter from little Jack. It's peaceful for a moment until the clouds turn black and the sun seems to die. Fog across the once heavenly horizon growing bigger with a familiar silhouette drawing closer. They call my name like venom in my ears. Voices from the camp change from laughter to shouts of my name too, urging me to get to them but I can't move. No matter how much I try I can't turn and run, feet stuck like they are encased by hardened mortar, my eyes fixed on the one ahead. It's Frank, his face distorted and covered in blood, his eyes burning with rage. He lunges towards me, his hands constricting around my throat like a Python that hasn't eaten in months. Then I wake, jolting upright and my breathing staggered till I realise where I am. Arthur moves to his satchel, pulling out a worn book and a pencil, flicking absentmindedly through the pages for a moment. I watch with curiosity as he brings the pencil to the page, making quick strokes, his brow furrowed in concentration. Watching him for a few moments I can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of serenity and wanting to bask in it’s feeling forever. His gaze on the page does not falter, determined to convey whatever he intended to perfection. “What are you doing?” He keeps his eyes on the task in hand.

“Nothin’ really. Just ramblings and drawings I do to pass the time.”

“Can i see some?”

He looks hesitant and at that moment I regret asking him to share something that is obviously meant to be private. But he nods his head to beckon me closer and murmurs a quiet “Sure”

I sit beside him, shoulder to shoulder as he flicks through the pages, a blur of white and charcoal grey. He stops to show me a few pages, they are littered with small drawings of plants and animals, telling me what each of them are if they don't come with an already written name.

Other pages include strange buildings and stranger people he has encountered, each of them so detailed and beautiful I could imagine what they looked like as if each subject was placed right in front of me. He returns to the previous page he was working on, a half-finished drawing of a woman, her back turned but holding up a gun, aiming at a row of bottles perched on a rock in the distance. I look up to him once I realise but he doesn't look back. He opened his mouth to speak, probably to explain or apologise for not seeking my permission but before he could say a word I look at him again.

“I’ve never had someone draw me before.” I smile, hoping to ease any worry or embarrassment he may have.

His eyes finally meet mine as he turns, those blues i swear i could still drown in if i look for too long. My heart starts racing and I can feel the blood pulsing through my veins when I realise how close to each other we are, our faces mere inches away. His scent filling my nose, warm and inviting. My eyes dart down instinctively to his lips then back up in the hopes he didn't notice but it's evident when his pupils flare that he did. He saw. I don’t know what's happening, don't understand what i am doing until i start leaning in towards him and he follows. I can almost feel him against my lips, I can almost taste him as a shot rings out in the air not far in the distance, accompanied by shouting. We both jerk backwards instantly, our eyes tore away from each other as we scan the area around us. He stands to look around, hand on his holstered gun, telling me to stay put as he goes to check it out, hoping for no danger. As he leaves I feel like I can finally breathe, no longer drowning and I try to think about what just happened, what was about to happen. Was I trying to recreate what happens in them god awful romance novels? I'm not a child anymore, I can't be getting myself involved with bad men in that way. I needed to get a hold of myself. A voice in my head telling me I can't deny he's the first man to show me this sort of kindness in a long time. He's gone out of his way multiple times to help me and to make sure I'm safe. But he does that for the other girls at camp, he cares about them too and does everything in his power to make sure the whole gang can sleep safely. He does it all and denies himself the right to gratitude. Frank isn't a fraction of a man that Arthur is. I was still lost in thought when Arthur came back into view but he wasn't alone. Accompanied by a horse, a beautiful Chestnut Kentucky Saddler.

The creature was visibly shaken, it’s body tense, ears pinned back and tail swishing from side to side, Arthur offering constant words of encouragement and pats on the neck to help calm it.

“Robbery gone bad, fella is dead.” He handed the reins over to me delicately “Here.”

I took the reins in my hand, looking to him with obvious confusion.

“Didn't want to leave her there.”

I extend my free hand out towards her nose to show I'm no threat as I study her overall form, ears not forward. She seems fit and strong, obviously cared for and loved. She presses her whiskered nose to my palm tenderly as I look into her eyes, hoping she knows she can trust us. She can trust me.

#hang em high #hang em high fic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fic #red dead redemtion 2 #rdr2 #fanfic

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