#a dog is born with a purpose and it is baked into how it looks and acts and experiences the world | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

konako · 2 years

Text

Details of Red’s Untold Tale: a new compilation of old contributions

you know the drill, I rant about Ruby Lucas, you kindly overlook my spiralling

Reading Red’s Untold Tale — Once Upon A Time’s book to make up for the abandonment of Red’s character in the show — again in 2022.

And taking note of what’s important to consider for (head)canon purposes

Here’s the plan:

I’m going to organize the relevant passages in different sections, depending on what they contribute to either the overall story or Red’s character and background.

By the way. You don’t really need to know the plot of this story (if you can even call it that...), but if you’re curious:

The book begins shortly before the Wolfstime of May, when Red is sixteen years-old. It follows her around in her routine with Granny, baking, delivering and taking order for baked goods; going to Peter’s seventeenth birthday party, dealing with the bullies in her village; navigating the confusing nightmares of Wolfstime; finding a way to help her Granny with taxes, chores, and the pain in her arm from her scar; Red’s blossoming romantic feelings for Peter, the questions of what happened to Red’s parents, her relationship with her mother and her mother’s golden cross pendant, the weird wizard who lives in the forest, and the village’s fear of the wolves.

It really is as loose and wobbly as it sounds. But shhhh, that’s not important.

Here’s what I came here to rant about.

***

Red’s Curriculum

Born In November

****

November, three and a half years ago

"Get in here, young lady! Now." I wasn't sure how many times she'd yelled for me because I'd been swinging, leaning back as far as possible without toppling over, watching for a shooting star. I knew I'd get a wish when I blew out my birthday candles, but I had a really important one to make this year, and wishing on two things was always better than just one. At least that's what I figured.

[page 47]

****

November, three and a half years ago

It had snowed the night of my thirteenth birthday, but my new riding hood kept me dry and cozy while I trekked to school the next morning.

[NINE]

****

A Werewolf That Can Only Bake Dog Biscuits

****

For the first time that I'd been so sidetracked I hadn't even bothered to sample my own goods. I grabbed one out of my basket and took a bite-only I would've had better luck sinking my teeth into a horseshoe. I pulled the cookie out of my mouth and tried not to look as mortified as I felt.

the midst of my apology, Amos's dog loped across the yard and gobbled up the tossed cookie. Then he leaned back on his hind legs and, though I noticed he kept a safe distance and a watchful eye on me, eagerly begged his old man for another.

Amos raised his gray, bushy brows. "Wait a minute now," he said slowly. "That hound is the pickiest eater I ever met. But I'll be damned; he likes your cookies."

"Would you like to buy some, then?" I ventured, crossing my fingers behind my back.

Amos tilted his head and stared at me for a moment before glancing down at his still-begging dog. His weathered face broke into a smile, and he shook his head. Digging in his pocket, he said, "I'll take half a dozen."

[page 217]

****

"Granny, I have some good news."

"What is it?" she asked, peering up at me over her glasses.

"I sold four dozen dog biscuits today." I dropped the coins in her open palm.

"Dog biscuits?" she asked. "What nonsense are you talking about now?"

"Apparently, my shortbread is inedible for humans, yet irresistible to our customers with four legs and a tail."

[page 218]

***

Big Bad Wolf

Pretty Big!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

****

I remembered little of the dream I'd had, but an undeniable sense of fear lingered even as I made the daily trek across the backyard for eggs. I spotted a paw print in the dirt just outside the chicken coop and gasped. The print was about eight or nine inches across with big, long claws. Much larger and more ferocious-looking than an ordinary wolf's.

[page 132]

****

Granny snatched the broom from my grasp. In one hand she held the broomstick, and in the other, my shoulder, as she marched me out of the coop. Next she set the bottom of the broom on one of the wolf tracks. The paw print eclipsed the bristles, and its claws splayed out even farther. I knew the wolf was gigantic-I'd seen its tracks before-but I couldn't help gasping. Granny nodded. "You see? A poisoned dog biscuit won't give this creature a bellyache, let alone kill it."

[page 325, 326]

****

The mayor cleared his throat and straightened his belt. "Back to topic, our first order of business is the recent and tragic death of Amos Slade, may he rest in peace."

"May he rest in peace," the townsfolk repeated.

"Yes, yes. Thank you for that. All right then," he continued, adjusting his glasses as he glanced down at a scroll. "Upon study of the body and the tracks surrounding the place of death, it is clear that Mr. Slade was attacked and killed by a very large wild animal."

[page 358, 359]

****

"Is Florence...?" My voice stuck in my throat. "No, no. She's going to be all right. She fainted when she saw the wolf," she said, and relief washed over me. "It's horrible, Red! It's even more horrible than your granny said it was! It's huge-the biggest wolf I've ever seen-and it has these terrible yellow eyes that glow in the dark. And now, now it's after Violet!" She pointed to the tree behind which I'd hidden the last time I was there.

[page 389]

****

Violet leaned against a giant tree trunk, slowly sinking to the ground as her knees buckled beneath her. On a knoll ten feet in front of her loomed the wolf.

It was enormous, at least three times the size of any wolf I'd ever seen. Long gray fur stuck up on its back, and its snout wrinkled menacingly. It pulled back its lips and let out a low growl that seemed to reach out and seize my heart. Each of its gleaming razor-sharp teeth was larger than one of my hands! It was as if the creature didn't belong in this realm at all, but rather someplace far away, where wolves were bigger, more ferocious, and deadlier.

[page 389, 390]

****

She pointed straight ahead, and Peter held up his torch, illuminating the wolf's lifeless body.

Peter's jaw slacked open. He handed his torch to Violet and, with a death grip on his bow, cautiously approached the beast. "I've never seen anything like it," he said breathlessly. "It's... enormous.

[page 393]

****

And only because, apparently!!, I’m known to be biased on this topic in particular, I’ll show the actual pages I took these from, so that you know I didn’t edit the text — not even to add the word “enormous” once or twice. That was all them!!

Arguably Bad...

It is a feral wolf, after all. It eats what it feels like eating, and... it’s got a notable appetite.

****

When I returned from the kitchen, Granny was fixated on the door. "The hunters are going out tonight, you know. They're nothing but stupid, idiotic fools! Thinking they can kill the wolves. Someone's going to die one of these nights, I feel it in my bones," she said, rubbing her right arm.

Last full moon, the village was misfortunate enough to lose two lambs and five chickens to the wolves.

[page 53]

****

My heart banged in my chest as I forced myself to push open the door. I dropped the basket in the dirt and stood frozen among clumps of brown and white feathers, bits and pieces of chicken, and blood.

[page 132]

****

I'm filled with overwhelming sadness, and I feel tears run down my chin. But when I wipe it, I am shocked and horrified to see that the wetness is not tears, but blood.

[TWELVE]

****

As I blinked, the familiar shadows of my bedroom finally came into focus. It was still dark, so it must've been the middle of the night, or perhaps very early in the morning. When I swallowed, I tasted blood.

Granny hurried into my bedroom, shouting, "What is it, child? Are you all right?" By the glow of her candle, I could make out the rag curlers in her gray hair and the look of alarm in her eyes. But I didn't want her to know I was afraid, so I said, "I'm fine, Granny. It was just a silly nightmare. I must have bitten my tongue."

[page 206]

****

Ripping the broomstick off its hook, I started sweeping up the bloody feathers and bird parts. The gore clumped and streaked, and though all I accomplished was smearing it about even worse, I kept sweeping. "With any luck, our chickens will be that wolf's final meal," I said,

"Don't be ridiculous, child. This was merely an appetizer." Granny waved her hands around as if I hadn't even noticed the massacre.

[page 325]

****

My heart hammered-and not merely with exertion-when the paw prints led me to the hill behind the blacksmith's shop. I took a deep breath and shivered. Had a wolf wreaked havoc at Peter's place last night?

Drawing my bow, I followed the tracks to a grove of towering evergreens. When I spotted blood on the ground, I hoped it was from a rabbit, or perhaps a deer.

But it wasn't. It was from a man.

[page 327]

****

I just stood there, paralyzed, not knowing what to do. Taking in the torn-apart neck, shoulder, and thigh the blood-drenched shirt, and legs bent at ungainly angles-I wasn't sure if I screamed out loud, or if it was only in my mind.

Finally, I mustered up enough courage to move my wobbly legs closer. It was Amos Slade, the hunter. I would recognize that shaggy hair and bushy gray mustache anywhere. Peter and his father had been out with Amos last night, and my stomach roiled with worry. "Oh, no. No, no. Please let the others be safe," I prayed in a choked-up whisper.

[NINETEEN]

****

Animals Know Something Is Up With The One In Red

Red is constantly scaring animals away, much to her confusion and disappointment.

****

"Coming, Granny." With a crushed heart, I hurried to my bedroom window. A scrawny gray squirrel squatted on a branch just outside. "Well, hello there," I greeted him. He sniffed the air and then scurried down the tree and off into the rosebushes. "You don't have to be rude," I admonished him before pulling the shutters closed.

[page 46]

****

Holding my breath, I opened the shutters and balanced my basket on the rosebushes below my window while I slipped out side. As soon as my boots hit the dirt, the squirrel hissed and twitched his whiskers. Then he scampered away and disappeared into the hedge, like before.

[page 58]

****

Birds and dragonflies flitted about in the sky, and a frog flopped from rock to rock across the ripples of water. The forest teemed with creatures, yet they skittered away before I could get anywhere close. It wasn't always that way; there was a time when I thought they actually enjoyed my company. Though I couldn't know for I wondered if the spell on my red cloak somehow sure, repelled them in addition to protecting me from wolves.

[page 90]

****

At the forefront was Amos Slade and his ever-loyal hound dog. As usual, the lanky old hunter had brought a cart full of venison and an assortment of pelts to market.

The hound growled at the man in the funny hat-or perhaps he was growling at me-bringing me back to the present.

[page 169]

****

Behind her, a boy and a girl who looked to be about two years old played with a wooden whirligig. A black and-white mutt with a sweet face sat at the twins' feet; yet for some strange reason, as soon as he sniffed me, he darted behind his mistress's banner, tail tucked between his legs.

"Red!"

[page 174]

****

(...) Amos's dog loped across the yard and gobbled up the tossed cookie. Then he leaned back on his hind legs and, though I noticed he kept a safe distance and a watchful eye on me, eagerly begged his old man for another.

[page 217]

****

In a small clearing lay a doe and her twin spotted fawns. Peter stood only a few feet away from their grassy bed, waving me in. Although I tried to be as discreet as humanly possible, the deer sprung up and fled. In the blink of an eye, they plunged deep into the woods and disappeared.

Peter and I walked a while longer, until we found our selves in a gully. "This little guy wouldn't have a prayer if my brothers were here to capture him," he said, shaking his head at a chubby frog on a log. The instant the frog turned its bulging eyes on me, it promptly hopped away. "My, oh my, Red. You sure have a way with woodland creatures," Peter said.

[page 232]

****

He had a point, though. When we were children, all kinds of critters had been drawn to me. When we'd walked through the forest, bluebirds and butterflies had fluttered above me, and squirrels and rabbits had loped at my feet. In town, horses, cats, and dogs had nudged up to me. Now animals seemed to be fearful or at least wary of me: the squirrel outside my bedroom window, Amos Slade's and Priscilla's dogs, our chickens, and, as Peter had mentioned, the woodland creatures.

[page 233]

****

Be Warned, They Can Grow More Powerful

The village tries to find some normalcy, adapting to the wolf’s presence one week out of the month. But Granny constantly warns them not to let their guard down, simply because the moon isn’t full. It’s implied, then, the wolves could still appear, in the nights surrounding a full moon.

****

"Widow Lucas, what a lovely surprise," Violet said, sounding less than pleased. "I'm sure I'm speaking for us all when I say we do appreciate your concern. However, as I'm sure you can see.. ." She pointed at the sky. the moon is not full. It's not Wolfstime."

"It's full enough. The wolves are out, and the bunch of you are nothing but tasty little appetizers in their eyes. Especially you." She briefly pointed her weapon at a pudgy boy named Gregory Oliver.

[FIVE]

****

"Not today. Maybe tomorrow." I smiled encouragingly and took a breath, trying to broach the subject of Peter's birthday party. I had the sinking sensation that Granny wouldn't allow me to go out tonight. First off, it was a party for Peter-and it was no secret she didn't trust him as far as she could throw him. And most importantly, it was nearing Wolfstime.

Even though tonight's moon wouldn't be completely full, Granny's paranoia grew with each successive Wolfstime. "The pack is growing larger," she'd said at the last town meeting. "The more wolves roaming the forest, the more they'll need to eat. The more they'll hunt. Sometime in the near future, the full moon will mean nothing. They'll hunt every night, even the dark est. Mark my words…."

[page 40, 41]

****

Could Granny's prediction be coming true? Were the wolves hunting already tonight?

Over by the bonfire, Beatrice flapped her arms like a fledgling. "Oh, mercy me! Did you hear that? What if the wolves got Red?"

The wolves won't harm me, I told myself. The riding hood will keep me safe.

"Don't be silly, Beatrice," Florence chastised. "It's not Wolfstime yet."

[page 74]

****

But then again, I didn't feel alone. I couldn't quite explain it, but I had the strong sensation that someone or something was watching me.

The sun had started its descent in the west, and a heavy fog had rolled in, blurring the forest into hazy, unfamiliar shapes. Though I fought against it, my mind wandered to the wolves.

A branch snapped. I stopped in my tracks and pricked up my ears, listening for anything out of the ordinary. My ears filled with the strangest sound of anything I could imagine for a bustling forest: silence. Not even a rodent scuttling, a bat's wings flapping, or a leaf rustling in the wind. For an eerie moment, the world stood still.

I turned just a hair and spotted a pair of huge amber colored eyes.

[page 116]

****

"I poisoned the dog biscuits and scattered them outside the cottage last night, in case the wolf dared come back here. In case it went after our chickens again."

"You did what?" she asked.

"The biscuits are gone, Granny." I smiled, feeling oddly serene despite the morbid sight, stench, and still ness surrounding us. "Maybe the wolf is dead."

"Haven't you heard a single thing I've told you, all these years? This is no ordinary wolf, child. It's more powerful than you can ever imagine."

[page 325]

***

Retroactive “Ouch”

Why Would You Say That?

It hurts a lot more in hindsight....

****

I hoped beyond hope that I'd never, ever witness anything as frightful as a bloodthirsty monster killing people I loved.

[page 19, 20]

****

I might beg her to reconsider. Not that it would do a lick of good, but at least I could find a little peace in knowing that I'd tried.

But today, I said nothing to stop her. Granny had lived in the village all her life, so maybe she was right about the wolves being too powerful for the hunters to kill. If so, I didn't want Peter to be the next hunter to die at the claws and teeth of a wolf.

[page 352]

****

I really hope one of us kills whatever it was that killed Amos Slade. I'd love to slay the wolves and free our village from their reign of terror, once and for all."

My gut roiled at the thought of Peter facing the monster. If a wolf sunk its deadly teeth and claws into my love, I might as well throw myself into the thick of Wolfstime without my cloak.

[page 371]

****

Now you’re just being mean...

****

I hated them for putting my parents in death's way and forcing our menfolk into a seemingly everlasting and futile chase. I hated them for making me worry about Peter and his first night with the hunters and for leaving menacing tracks just outside our cottage walls.

How I would love to be the one to finally kill the wolves and save the village from their reign of terror!

As these thoughts built up inside of I scrubbed me, the bowls, pans, and spoons harder and harder. I rummaged under the sink for a dish towel, and that was when it came to me. Dogs loved my biscuits, and like Violet had said the night of the bonfire, a wolf was essentially an overgrown mongrel.

If I lace biscuits with rat poison and scatter them along the tracks the wolf left last night, perhaps I can be the one who finally kills the wolves!

[page 319]

****

(...) how many wolves roamed the woods and terrorized the village, but if the poisoned dog biscuits vanquished one, I could make more and eventually do them all in.

I would be the village hero! The very thought of it made me grin ear to ear. Word would spread near and far, and everybody would respect me and love me.

[page 327]

****

Let that one wish of sixteen-year-old Red sink in:

“I would be the village hero! The very thought of it made me grin ear to ear. Word would spread near and far, and everybody would respect me and love me.”

Now kindly look at these unrelated gifs:

Anyway, moving on...

****

Retroactive “Awn”

Would You Look At That!

Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw somebody dressed in red, standing in the middle of the small clearing. On second glance, I could tell it wasn't a person after all, it was a snowman. Only this snowman wasn't the usual type, with coal eyes, a carrot nose, and a scarf. He or she, I should say-wore a red tablecloth draped over her head and flowing down her back. A snow-girl wearing a red-hooded cloak.

[page 98]

****

(...) "My, oh my, Red. You sure have a way with woodland creatures," Peter said. "You're a regular storybook princess."

"Don't be daft," I said. "Animals adore me every bit as much as they do Snow White or Cinderella."

[page 232]

***

The Self-Esteem Limbo Game: How Low Can You Go?

Someone get this girl a cricket therapist to sit on her shoulder 24/7

****

"Well, Granny?" I untied the apron from my waist and slapped it onto the countertop next to the cake. "Aren't you going to tell me what a disgrace I am to the Lucas family? I'm all ears." I went back to drying dishes and continued, "Or maybe something like 'If I hadn't delivered you with my own two hands, I would've sworn you were born of trolls'?" Everyone knew that trolls were worse cooks than ogres-or even royal princesses, for that matter.

"I'm certain it will taste fine," Granny said.

The bowl I'd been drying made a terrible racket when I dropped it into the sink. "Granny, are you feeling all right? You just said something nice."

[page 13]

****

I looked up at the trees, clouds, and sky, and while my mind wandered, I felt his warm gaze on my face. What does Peter see in me? I wondered. In his eyes, was I still that giggly six-year-old girl?

[page 36]

****

Some claimed they'd been killed by wolves, Others said that my parents just woke one morning and decided to pack up and move to another village, far, far away. But why would they have left their baby daughter behind? I'd been much too young to have brewed up any real trouble yet. If I had a daughter, even if she were a rascal, I'd never, ever run away without her. I refused to believe it could be true about my own mother and father.

[page 56]

****

"They made a snowman..." I started to tell her what had happened, but the look of worry-with a spark of anger-in her eyes made me reconsider. I didn't want to upset her. She was scary when she got really upset.

Besides, now that it was over, I wasn't so sure that what Violet, Beatrice, and Florence did was intentionally cruel. Maybe their idea of fun and games was quite different than mine, and that's why I got along best with boys. "Never mind, it's nothing."

[page 102]

****

The night had been largely uneventful. Granny had baked muffins deep into the wee hours, but she'd insisted that I got a good night's sleep. I wasn't sure if she really wanted me to be bright-eyed for school, or if she simply wanted me out of her kitchen so I wouldn't somehow ruin the muffins just by being there.

[page 132]

****

Granny Isn't Helping

****

With her dimples, wire-rimmed glasses, and gray hair swept into a bun, she looked like a sweet-as-molasses grandma out of a storybook. But I knew a different character, one whose whole purpose in life was to make her sixteen-year-old granddaughter as miserable as possible. I couldn't even count to ten before the first gibe left her mouth. "You're doing it all wrong." Biting my lip, I turned my back to her as I continued smearing globs of frosting onto the horrendously misshapen cake. "Looks to me that you might have forgotten to test it," [page 08]

****

Whether I liked it or not, I needed Granny's permission to go to Peter's party. So I took a deep breath and relaxed face into what I hoped was a pleasant expression. Stay on Granny's good side, Red. my

Although, now that I thought about it, had I ever been on Granny's good side? I wasn't even sure she had a good side.

While Granny started whipping up breakfast, I rolled up my sleeves and scrubbed the dishes harder than necessary, trying to drown out Granny's voice as she scolded me for splattering batter on the cookbook

[page 12]

****

She glared at me over her glasses, then asked, "What happened to your cake?"

"Oh. I, um… gave it to the pigs." I watched her carefully to see if she was testing me or playing some sort of game.

But she kept mixing as if nothing was amiss. "That was the sorriest cake I've seen in all my years," she said, shaking her head. "But don't worry, child. As far as your baking goes, there's nowhere to go but up. You'll get better. Mark my words."

[page 88]

****

We'd almost made it to market when she stopped to set down her basket and catch her breath. "Go ahead with out me, Red. Set up shop on the shady side. I'll be right behind you."

"Are you sure, Granny?"

She smacked the back of my head. "Of course I'm sure. Otherwise, I wouldn't have said a word about it. Here's a list of ingredients I need. Bargain and barter with the sellers like I've taught you." She dropped a slip of parchment and some coins into my hand. "Now, git!"

[page 167]

****

"I think I'm coming down with something," I said, and though I knew it wasn't a traditional ailment, I truly did feel sick to my stomach. "I shouldn't go to school."

I heard Granny stomp back to my bedside. She flipped the blankets off me and pressed her hand to my forehead. A moment later, she exclaimed, "Rubbish! You're as fit as a fiddle. You're going to school, and you're going to learn. It's bad enough that school's held only three times a week nowadays. I won't have people say I'm raising the village idiot. Now, get up and get going. Your porridge is getting cold."

[page 191]

****

"Oh, Red. The cross."

"It's all right, Granny," I said, sitting next to her. "I know it was my mother's, but I know if she were here, she would have done the same thing."

Granny opened her mouth and then shut it with a sigh. I guessed she was trying to thank me; she'd never been good at that. Finally, she said, "You're right. She would have."

[page 314]

****

I melted like a pat of butter in a hot skillet. But then Granny showed up right behind him-thankfully in her clothes, now-and I felt certain she'd overheard. I steeled myself for having to deal with her wrath.

I wanted Granny to understand how wonderful Peter was, and to help her see that I loved him. Deep inside, I longed for her to know those truths about me. I wanted her to accept Peter. I wanted her to accept me.

[page 396]

***

Red Hitting The Snooze Button On Her Queer Awakening

Beside an old dusty piano, a skinny woman thumped a tambourine while a man with a big mustache fiddled. A flaxen-haired girl in her mid-twenties suddenly lodged herself between me and my view of the room. "Can I help you, miss?" she asked over the din of music and bantering.

I regarded the tavern girl's tangled tresses, rosy lips, and light, piercing eyes. She wore a striped skirt that covered her legs, but her blouse showed off her freckled bosom and shoulders. She had a spark of confidence about her, like she knew her true self and no one could try to convince her otherwise. I gave her a small smile, realizing that if Granny saw me as a tavern girl, maybe it wouldn't be the most horrible fate in the land.

(...)

The girl pressed her full lips together, and I had the distinct feeling that she and I were sharing a private girl bonding moment.

[page 294, 295]

****

I laughed nervously and waved my hands. "Oh, no. You have it all wrong. I just wanted to talk to him, that's all. Businesslike."

She set her tray down on the nearest table and fixed my hair, bringing the front portions over my shoulders. Next she pinched my cheeks. Her light blue eyes gleaming, she gave me the nod. "Go talk business."

I nodded back, amazed how she'd been able to restore my confidence. Before I lost it again, I walked up to the tax man and cleared my throat.

[page 297]

***

The Effects of Wolfstime

I'm not afraid because I sense that I'm not alone. I don't see anyone, but I hear a familiar voice. Though it sounds like it's coming from far, far away, being carried by the wind, I hear it clearly. The voice reminds me to breathe. I inhale, and the dark ness enters my lungs, spreading throughout my body, filling me with energy.

Power.

Hunger.

With outstretched arms, I reach higher and higher. Between the shadows, splinters of light glisten just out of my grasp-morphing into thousands of fireflies caught in a tornado. I kick and claw my way up, through layers of dirt, roots, grasses, tree trunks, branches, twigs, leaves.

[ONE]

****

Power

****

The tree swing beckoned me, like it had hundreds of times when I was younger. Gripping the ropes with all of my might, I swayed back and forth like a pendulum, higher and higher, desperately trying to dry my tears and clear my head.

I pointed my toes, closed my eyes, and held back my head, letting the wind sweep my face and tousle my hair. The sensation brought me back to my Wolfstime dreams. In my mind's eye, I saw the full moon-and in my heart, I felt its power.

[page 284]

****

With the storm blowing in, the sky was darkening at a rapid rate, and yet the clouds could not contest the moon. Tipping back my head, I let the moon's light embrace me. Once I was back inside, I boarded up the back door, slowly breathing in and out. It was as if the moon's glow had somehow gotten inside of me, and I held on to the sensation as best I could as Granny and I wrapped up the final minutes of the day and I ducked into my room for the night.

I shed my clothes on the floor, hung my hood on the bedpost, and flopped onto my bed. Gazing at the shapes the candlelight created on the canopy, I felt a sudden rush of feverish heat.

[page 320]

****

Standing before the window in my undergarments, with the glow of candles behind me and the vast dangers of Wolfstime in front of me, I felt an odd mixture of power and vulnerability.

[page 321]

****

The Feeling Of No Control

*****

Three and a half years ago, when I turned thirteen, I started having the Wolfstime dreams. Though each was different, they always began in complete darkness. It wasn't ordinary darkness-say, a night without moon or stars, or the deepest cave, or how I imagined it looked at the very bottom of a well. It was much, much darker than that. Like I was completely submerged in a sea of tar.

[page 02, 03]

****

What will become of me when I give in? Wind and rain mercilessly lash out at my body, and I have no choice but to bend. My body bows and twists until I hear the noise of a twig breaking. Twigs seem to be snapping all around me and inside of me. Twigs, branches, bones. I collapse to the ground, gasping for air, but filling my lungs with dirt and pebbles instead.

And then I hear the voice. "Don't fight, just be."

[EIGHT]

****

My Wolfstime dream had been particularly disturbing. The darkness had been so intense, it clung to my skin and seeped into my mouth and eyes.

[page 191]

****

And Heat (no don’t read it like that, I meant as in warmth!!)

****

As we trudged along with our overstuffed baskets, Granny said, "I just don't understand." Though I sweated beneath my cloak, she'd draped an extra shawl over her shoulders and looked cool as a cucumber. "You say your schoolmarm didn't have enough money for the muffins. And yet, she has the audacity to ask me to bake her wed ding cake. What kind of flapdoodle is that?"

[TEN]

****

"No, it's fine, Granny. Everything is fine," I said, before taking a swig of water to rinse out the salty, coppery taste in my mouth.

She took her handkerchief out of her robe pocket and gently dabbed off the blood from my lips. Next she placed the back of her hand on my forehead. "You feel warm.”

"That's because you make me wear this ridiculous tent of a nightgown." Of course, I wasn't going to admit that the real reason I was wearing a gown was in case Peter happened to come by the cottage to check on me again. "I have no choice but to sweat all night long," I said, wriggling out of her reach.

"Perspire," she corrected me, and I scrunched my nose.

"Fine, whatever. Perspire. But I'm perspiring like a pig."

[page 206, 207]

****

I woke up with a start, unsure how I'd ended up under my bed. A fortress of pillows and covers encircled me, and though it was the coldest time of year, my hair was drenched with sweat.

[page 299]

****

I shed my clothes on the floor, hung my hood on the bedpost, and flopped onto my bed. Gazing at the shapes the candlelight created on the canopy, I felt a sudden rush of feverish heat.

[page 320]

***

Bullied to the brink and back

It’s a wonder this girl didn’t go all werewolf on them, both figuratively and literally.

A testament to Red’s soft-hearted nature and incredible anger management skills.

Violet, Florence and Beatrice are the three mean girls that torment Red like a hobby. They play pranks on her, tease her, make fun of her and insult her, including her Granny. The other kids at school mostly go along with their jokes. The rest of the village tries to be polite, but they're growing tired of Granny’s rants, and, lately, haven’t been sparing much patience to Red, either.

****

Peter had invited me to his party three days ago. Since then, it had been the talk of the school yard. We were like a bunch of squirrels, eager to get out after a particularly long winter. I'd gone along with the crowd, saying things such as, "Of course I'll be there. I wouldn't dream of missing it."

Violet had singled me out. "Don't be ridiculous, Red. Your grandmother will never give you permission."

Everybody had poked one another and laughed behind my back (...)

[page 41]

****

[The] amusement in her brown eyes doubled when she caught sight of the cake. She closed in and circled it like a vulture. "What is that supposed to be?"

"It's a birthday cake," I answered. "For Peter. Well, of course it's for Peter," I amended awkwardly. "I doubt any body else is celebrating their seventeenth birthday out here in the woods on this very night."

A snorting sound came out of Florence's pointy nose. "You brought a cake? What are you, his mother?"

"Oh, hush, Florence. I think it's sweet," Beatrice said, and I shot her a little smile to thank her. However, all my gratefulness vanished when she added, "Do you fancy the blacksmith's son, Red?"

"Who, me? I…" My cheeks felt so hot, I was sure they'd turned the color of my cloak. I stared down at my boots. "We're just friends, that's all. Friends."

"I wouldn't blame you," Beatrice whispered to me. "I think he's the most handsome boy in the whole village."

"So what happened to the cake, Red?" Violet asked, drawing our eyes back to my pastry display. "Did it fall out of your basket on the way here?"

Florence added, "And get rained on? And trampled by a bear? And beaten to a pulp with the ugly sti--"

"That's enough, Florence. We get the picture," Violet said, pounding Florence's back. The next thing I knew, Florence was falling. As if in slow motion, her red curls splayed and her arms flew into the air. She threw her hands out to break her fall, which sent her pounding smack-dab into the middle of the cake. I watched help lessly and wordlessly as she smashed into the cake like a hammer to a pumpkin.

"Oh, my. I can be so clumsy. Look what I've done!" Florence casually licked the cake off her hands. I turned my back so they wouldn't see my blazing cheeks, but I heard the willowy redhead coughing, spitting, and carrying on. "I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Red, but this cake of yours? It's even more horrid than the stone soup they force down our throats at school."

I clenched my fists and turned face-to-face with Violet. "You did that on purpose."

"It's quite unfortunate, but nothing to cry about." Violet pushed the parts of the cake together and smeared [it on my cloak]

[page 68, 69, 70]

****

"And we're all lucky Red disappeared," Florence added.

That's it. Enough was enough. I pushed my shoulders back and held my chin up, steeling myself to march straight over to Violet and her brigade and make them eat their evil words.

[page 74]

****

"The Forget-Me-Not ball will go on," Violet said firmly, and the mob pumped its fists and torches in the air and shouted in agreement. "It's been held during the Flower Moon for years, and the tradition isn't going to change just because of one crazy old lady and her grand daughter who doesn't even care about the ball because no one would want to dance with her."

[page 76]

****

I was sure I knew precisely the spot, and I smiled when I glimpsed a little table all set up with a tablecloth, cups and plates, and four wooden chairs. Sprigs of holly crisscrossed the length of the table, and the whole effect was lovely, like a Christmas tea party in one of my old storybooks. I couldn't believe my good fortune to be included.

Where is everybody? Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw somebody dressed in red, standing in the middle of the small clearing. On second glance, I could tell it wasn't a person after all, it was a snowman. Only this snowman wasn't the usual type, with coal eyes, a carrot nose, and a scarf. He or she, I should say-wore a red tablecloth draped over her head and flowing down her back. A snow-girl wearing a red-hooded cloak.

It was, I realized at once, supposed to be me.

Rustling noises came from behind some bushes. I whirled around, and a snowball exploded on my left cheek. The hit stung my bare skin. I thought I felt blood, but when I touched my face, a smear of mud stained my mitten. More snowballs pelted me from the opposite direction. I ducked and dodged for a moment or two, and then collapsed onto my knees, where the snowballs and laughter hit me from every direction, coating me in mud and humiliation. I stayed in that position, my cloak protecting my skin from the stings, until finally the torture stopped. I lifted my hood just enough to peer out.

"Enough fun and games," Violet said, appearing in the open. "I'm completely bored. And famished."

"Oh, goodie! It's time for the picnic!" Beatrice said. "Come on, Red. Get up." I tried to hold my shoulders steady, so they couldn't tell that I was sobbing. "Red? Are you all right?"

Florence said, "She's fine, just fine. She's just resting, Beatrice. Anyone can see that."

"I hope she doesn't rest too long," Beatrice said. "I've worked up quite an appetite."

"I'm sure she won't mind if we begin without her," Florence said, but Violet did not approve.

"Florence, I'm surprised at you. Red is our special guest. She told everyone that she wanted to be included in our winter picnic, and here she is a -- dream come true for her, I'm sure. We won't start until she's good and ready."

A scrawny squirrel skittered across the snow. He stood on his hind legs and clicked, and another squirrel joined him as they prodded my basket. With my mitten, I wiped the tears away and slowly stood.

"Oh, my goodness, Red. You're a mess," said Violet. “But we don't mind. Come on over here and join us." It took everything I had not to hurl my basket at her. Instead, I brushed the mud and snow off of myself as well as possible and then kicked the snow-girl down, leaving a shapeless mound beneath the red cloth.

"That wasn't very nice," said Florence. "That snow man took us half an hour to make for you."

[page 98, 99, 100]

****

"Thank you, Granny."

She took my basket from me and set it on the coffee table while I shed my cloak. "I take it your girlfriends enjoyed the tarts?" she asked.

I stared down at my stockinged feet. "I don't think they're very fond of me."

[page 102]

****

When I thought about all the time and ingredients Granny wasted on the muffins-never mind my most unpleasant trip to Violet's house for milk-I shook my head in confusion and disappointment.

What went wrong? Was Miss Cates lying?

No, of course not. Why would my teacher lie about a muffin order?

(...)

I picked up the awful sound of Violet, Beatrice, and Florence's laughter from behind the little gray building, where the oldest boys were playing horseshoes. The girls were too far away to have heard anything, so they couldn't be sniggering at me—but for some reason, it felt (...)

[page 136]

****

(...) find my basket empty and everybody running home to plead with their parents to buy Granny's baked goods. Granny would have more orders coming in than she could fill!

The basket wasn't empty, though. It was full.

Full of manure.

For a moment or two, I could do nothing but stare at the horrid brownish-green pile while anger boiled under my skin. Finally, I snapped the lid of the basket shut and dropped it to the ground, but the mucky odor and a swarm of flies lingered.

Clenching my jaw, I scanned the school yard for Violet and her friends.

(...)

I was so consumed by rage I didn't even notice Peter until he was right beside me.

[page 145]

****

I felt beautiful in it, and I liked that feeling. "My granny had it made especially for me, for my birthday," I told them.

Violet joined the ring, and her dark eyes looked me and down. "Wait, did you just say that your grandmother had this cloak made for you? But... it's red," she said, stating the obvious.

Priscilla said quietly, "I like it very much."

Violet ignored her and grabbed a small portion of the elegant brocade fabric in her fingers. "You know what they say about a lady in red, don't you?"

I blinked twice, trying to keep my cheeks from heat ing up. I'd enjoyed the attention Priscilla and the others paid to me, but Violet always had something up her sleeve. I wasn't sure what she was getting at. "Yes, of course," I said. "Red repels wolves, so wearing red cloth ing protects you from wolves." I blew a strand of hair out of my eyes and muttered, "I'm not stupid."

Violet's grin slowly widened, and she said, "Indeed, you're not," in a tone that made me feel anything but smart.

[page 155]

****

Shaking my head, I shouldered my way through the throng. One by one, young and old, the villagers' eyes hardened with judgments as they looked at me. It felt as if my boots were laden with rocks, each step more gruel ing than the last. I touched the gold cross on my chest, and next my lips. They know what I've done. If I hadn't had to collect Granny first, I would have fled the market and gone straight home. Everybody knows.

Once I was near enough to the soapbox to see and hear who was stirring up such a hullabaloo, I understood why the people really pitied me. As horrible as kissing Tucker Williamson had been-especially had everybody known about it-I gladly would have done it again, if only I could have stopped Granny from making a fool of herself. From making a fool of the both of us.

[page 186]

****

(...) She gasped for air, and though I stood five rows back, I saw beads of sweat on her brow. I felt dampness on my brow, as well. "This is why the Forget-Me-Not ball cannot be held on its traditional night this year." She pointed at the poster that Violet and her friends had made last week at school and hung in the window of the town hall. "The moon will be full. The wolves will hunt. We cannot lose our young people to the beasts!"

The crowd roared, the vast majority of its members sniggering or elbowing one another. I shut my eyes, wishing I could magically disappear. When I opened my eyes again, two tomatoes were flying straight for my head, I ducked just in time to miss being pelted. I swung around and glared at the culprits: a group of children-including the pirate boy and one of Peter's little brothers-perched on a ladder.

[page 187]

So when she said this, she meant it in many ways.

#ruby lucas #RL HC #K #ouat #once upon a time #consider this a guide to the book so you can use it to support your headcanon without having to read it #it really isn't a great book

47 notes · View notes

bhaaliestspawn · 11 months

Note

Listen I haven't got the time nor patience to draw all these circles OK you know cause OK you know how others you know how it will be the cheese oh it will be the cheesecake is a long old long old story OK let's be real it was never ever gonna happen anyway the Bold spot remains and my feet are still Aching from walking 3 frikin hours to the nearest flower shop so he could make this little art and give to his best friend who by the way is neither menu efficient nor is capable of telling bikes apart. He calls me at 2am asking for those damn frog figurines and in my delirium I tell him all about the not so secret anymore trip they were taking withoit him and now I'm he villain! It's scandalous! This is why you should never volunteer for Wednesday bingo nights it's all about the hustle with no muscle and you only end up with worms my apologies I was born that way. The letter was nice tho buy not as nice as the free chalk delivery everyone was bawling their eyes out it got awkward after the plumber couldn't find his way out so he's just there now dreaming about the pool which btw no one is allowed to go in after the tequila accident and who can blame the geese it was on purpose. Don't forget to ring the bell though, the letters are too sensitive these days or so he tells me

i haven’t had a cheesed cake since that last time it must be said .it is very sad but not sadder than a fifty eight years young paulquette refusing to take off his shirt in front of the world audience god everybody and most importantly me and also all the other tonsured monks waiting by the porta loos maybe if i didn’t throw out all of my baking supplies three months ago out of fear of failure we wouldn’t be here right here and right now wondering why there is a jagged line at his temple where a precise bowl it is supposed to be. how did we get to this, how did we get here? it is clear now that getting rid of the baking hole was a mistake but it’s what i had to do when he told me that there can only be one hole in this world and then slipped back into the mist and didn’t even let me answer though before i woke up. i think the problem is that his costume is a living organism and destroying it would equal to murder but i am ok with going to jail if it means that my pastry failures weren’t in vain if it means that the people get to see body wrinkles if it means that the bronzer drips down in my mouth or maybe even yours or maybe even that girl that held my spot when i need to pee really bad. i am always looking to find new hobbies except when i am lying about it like i am doing right now. it’s really nothing personal it’s just that personally i would prefer to push him down and roll him around in the mud outside the stadium and then hose him down like a pathetic little dog but maybe i should do some sport. maybe i could do some football that means actual football not soccer or whatever they say in amerika it really isn’t wunderbar but his head is big enough i think it could work. but maybe sports aren’t really my thing. i have to stink on it a little bit like when he smelle all the way to my hometown where my feet carried me not so long ago , but my feet are small and his are big and you know what they say about men with big feet? it means he’s got big feet. i think i will take up knitting i will knit him a crotchet skirt and also maybe iwill order discounted rope on ebay so i can. so he. and so i.

#ask #hi again and hello #enouugh.

2 notes · View notes

100yearoldcomics · 2 years

Text

June 11, 1922 Krazy Kat by George Herriman

Caption: While being a merchant of merit, and a tradester of verve, "Mr. Kolin Kelly" is not the wan eyed money maniac so often found among the empire of finance. He closes shop and goes forth to play. [ID: Ignatz stands in front of the closed door of Kolin Kelly's Brick Yard. A sign nailed to the door reads, "Closed Indefinitely, Gone on Vacation." /end] Ignatz: It's a nice time to go on a vacation, dah-gunnit!!! And I had promised myself that I'd use unusual gusto in tossing a "brick" at that "Krazy Kat" today. Dag-nabbit.

Caption: As for "Ignatz," we can only see things bleak, black & blank for him. [ID: Ignatz leans grumpily on a tree trunk by the side of the road. /end] Ignatz: My whole day is ruined. Just because "Kelly" takes a notion to go on a vacation.

Caption: Until - his acute ear catches certain sounds, full of that elusive intangibility from which "hope" is born. [ID: Ignatz cups a hand to his ear to hear a conversation occurring below the cliff whose edge he stands near. /end] Ignatz: ? Pelican: And so, Dr. Zowl. You really think that the making of "bricks" is no art? Dr. Zowl: I do indeed, sir. I consider it but a common craft.

Caption: "Dr. Y. Zowl" lets fall a word of cohesive cheer. [ID: Ignatz stands beside Dr. Zowl, an owl, and the pelican he was talking to. /end] Ignatz: And is it as easy as all that to make a "brick," Dr. Zowl? Dr. Zowl: 4000 years ago, the lowest Egyptian could knead a hand full of clay, and bake it into a "brick." And I feel sure that today, with your intelligence, you could do as well. Pelican: Golly, I bet even me, I could make a "brick." Who knows.

Caption: "Good intentions" travel slowly. Evil ones never lag in their purpose. If you'll notice, "Ignatz" works fast. [ID: Ignatz pours a pitcher of water onto a small mound of clay he's dug out of the ground with a shovel. A rectangular loaf pan sits on the ground beside him. /end] Ignatz: Just think. A bit of clay, and water.

[ID: Ignatz stares impatiently at the clay set inside the rectangular mold. /end] Ignatz: Now to find some place to bake it.

[ID: Ignatz walks over to a dog with a chef's hat who gestures toward a brick oven behind him. /end] Ignatz: And now, Mr. Piki. Could I bake it in your oven? Mr. Piki: Sure, and it's all hot, and ready too.

Caption: "Krazy" enters, for a moment - bearing a cake of yeast. ["If you see the hand of fate in this, we'll say that you & we see the same things.] [ID: Krazy bends over and drops the cake of yeast into Ignatz's brick. /end] Krazy: Ain't it lucka I had this yeast cake just when somebody needed it?

[ID: Ignatz takes the loaf pan and places it into Mr. Piki's oven. /end] Ignatz: That's awful nice of you, Mr. Piki. Mr. Piki: You came to the right place. This is the best dawgun bake oven in "Coconino." And just you lay to that, now.

[ID: Ignatz and Mr. Piki wait around - Ignatz lying on the ground, Mr. Piki sitting on a log and looking at his pocket watch. /end] Ignatz: Well, I guess it's about baked now, heh? Mr. Piki: Yep, I guess it is. Let's go give a look.

[ID: They return to the oven and are shocked by what they see - Krazy's yeast caused the clay to grow uncontrollably and crack the oven in half. It looks sort of like a ceramic hamburger now. Clay even spurts out of the chimney on top. /end]

[ID: Mr. Piki furiously chases Ignatz down the road. Krazy, lying down on a rock by the side of the road, looks on. /end] Ignatz: But Mr. Piki, it's all a mystery to me. Mr. Piki: What I'm gonna do to you ain't gonna be no mystery to nobody. Ignatz: L'il speedsta, how fleet he is among his foots, in a game of tag nobody can catch up at him.

#newspaper comics #vintage #history #1922 #krazy kat #transcript available #1920s #brick making #DIY

3 notes · View notes

chinahatbeach · 1 year

Text

Thoughts for Today

Good morning to you. I’m on my second cup of Kona coffee and I’m happy. Happy despite the fact that the cat decided to tear up stuff at 4:30 am and wake me up. She’s stayed away from me so far. I think she knows that Mama is not happy with her. And this is why she gets the name, “The Terrorist”. Last night I had to make her move and she cussed me out with a very loud meow and hiss. She does have an attitude. I love her anyhow.

Yesterday I wrote about how men want to be women. I wrote about the hardships that women go thru……. menstruation, child birthing, menopause, and the emotional roller coaster of life. And then I read more about how men want to transform into women. And it made me think…….. why? You can pee so easily. You don’t need to take down your pants to pee in the woods. Yes, I’ve peed in the woods. When you got to go, you got to go. And there isn’t always a port-o-potty for you to use. I’ve peed on hiking trails. When you have a bladder that screams at ya, you listen. And after having gone thru child birthing, that bladder tells you what it thinks. Why would any man want this???

And I’ve then got to thinking about all the trials of womanhood I’ve dealt with when younger. Being harassed, working a job in a man’s world where you were made to feel inferior, and so much more. Add in the fact that I’m short. I’ve taken self-defense classes to protect myself from situations. I protect myself when travelling alone so I won’t be taken advantage of or hurt.

I see people trying to be accepted and wanting to be ‘who they feel they are’. Who are they? What is their purpose? You can not be someone you are not. You were uniquely made by God for a purpose.

Psalm 57:2 says, “I cry out to God Most High, to God who fulfills his purpose for me.” This is key in understanding God’s purpose for your life. God has numbered your days and will fulfill every purpose He has for you. However, our choices and actions also really matter.

The overarching message the Bible tells us is that our purpose is to bring glory to our Heavenly Father. We do that by worshiping Him, living our lives as an offering to Him, and sharing the Gospel with those around us. His purpose becomes our purpose.

5 Tips for Finding Your Purpose in Christ

God wants us all to know Him. …

God intends to make us more like Jesus. …

God wants us to help others know Him. …

Keep yourself in God’s Word. …

Surround yourself with wise counselors. …

Pray for wisdom and discernment. …

Prioritize doing God’s will. …

Pay attention to your passions.

As a kid, I wanted to be taller. You can’t change that. I wanted perfect eyesight (I wore glasses). I did get Lasix surgery in 2001 and it has stayed almost 20/20 for almost 20 years but now I need reading glasses. I also wanted curly hair and not straight hair. Going to the hair salon and getting a perm helps but it doesn’t make it stay that way. Facts are simple……you must love yourself for who you are. You can change simple things (hair color, get false eye lashes, etc.) but deep down inside you, you are you. God made you and you have perfect things that you need to be thankful for as an individual. I can bake great banana bread, I can help animals, I can help others with my many talents, and I love me for me.

And being a person who has been around farm animals, I understand that some things can’t be changed. A chicken can’t be a dog, a dog can’t be a cat, a human is a human and you were born a certain sex. Your feelings are only feelings and your mental ability does not play a part in making you anything you are not. Bluntly, you can have your breast removed or your penis, it does change the overall look of the package but doesn’t change that DNA factor. You will die someday, your bones will show the fact of you being male or female. You can change your body but not your bones or DNA.

So, I’m short. I climb my kitchen cabinets and you should see how I get stuff down off the shelves of stores when they put stuff up to high. I dye my hair. I try to remember where the reading glasses ran off to. I’m me. God made me.

So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them. God blessed them and said to them, “Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air and over every living creature that moves on the ground.”

I hope and pray you are blessed being you. You matter.

And that’s the way it is……….

0 notes

pndnj · 3 years

Text

Cathartic- Yellow Metal Lyrics

Heres where I am with the lyrics, I referenced @25Goldenn on twitter for some of it that I couldn’t comprehend.

*music*

0:23

Dark matter, like painted splatters, they fit better, the old saying, the way it goes, better the devil you do then you don’t know. I hit pedals and switch levers, my heart metal, I can't settle, im part trouble, they are not subtle. I fuck good so fuck cuddles, burst bubbles the thrist levels at new heights, i down doubles, and got baked til I felt high, my face puzzled, felt muddled, far strung and your floors woodent, the thought might but the fit wouldn’t. A fortnight

0:46 - 1:00

And I thought right, it’s all bark and no bite, I’m Tony Stark still embarking on a dream, took a bit of time to take darkness from the team. Seen what I saw. Heartless on the sleeve. Tried to burn my wings, so I put them in a piece on my chest , at peace no rest.

1:00-1:15

Flipped this on it’s head. Rip the script up now, flip it don’t pretend, slipping shit again, Fakers all around me, I’ve been living in pretense. Fake friends won’t make amends. There’s no need, these mean comments control the scenes. Attentionseekers, the spine is weakened

1:15-1:24

This family needs, what a family needs, and the planet bleeds, the damaged trees. It’s never leaving til we ascend so fuck the fence, and until they stop killing colour it’s fuck the feds.

1:22 - 1:44

You must be off it, I mean it, you know you ain’t never get with the judging and I used to dread growing my beard too long, never felt I belonged, but it's really long like a minute I ain’t looking to no mans for the limits, They’re feeling timid, I’m telling them who they mimic, why they don't look like a clinic …. Why they don't get no women, Still, we’re just fucking girls, Lost in the wrong world, Jurassic, now to this vermin

1:41- 1: 50

Kicking the game I’m serving, these losers are never learning, my fire is forever burning, adding it to my fuel, seems like I’m always focused on never becoming you, These locals that rob us feeling … was for a reason.

1:52-2:02

I’m seeing my new beginnings, watch out this loser’s winning, and no water is too deep to swim in Like I’m about to see a killing, I’m all the way that and living, flawless and feeling lawless, the prison now to the gimmicks, my vision is set to something,

2:03-:2:20

I’m watching you bitches plummet, no matches here for my cunning, you rappers are feeling done in, switching your genre, running and Running your jaw, stunting, pulling at straws, something I think you’re a poor effort, deaf and tone deaf and I ain’t treat you separate. Living, I’m in my element, riding it like a … never lose me to fentanyl, scared when I take a benadryl. Keeping it green in general

2:20- 2:46

Think that you remain irrelevant. Look at yourself with reverence, hoping to always elevate. Celibate of these thoughts, killing themselves with sedatives. In comparison to eminem, you’re feeling feminine. Impolitically correct, still dropping on my dick. And I never gave a fuck about what they say abt my shit, I’ve been moving things in my mind like it’s this mountain dew Memories have made me wonder if one day I’m after you. What’s the purpose that you do, is what you're hoping that they learn, i’d like to say i’m done but it’s getting up on my nerves

2:46 -2:55

I’m looking at my life, saying what do I deserve. It’s hard to say I know when I’m walking through the dirt. Talking while you’re nothing I can see for what it’s worth. I’m tired of feeling hurt and I’ve tried enough but nothing works.

2:55-3:40

I’m racking up excuses while I’m slacking off on work. Chit chatting is the usual, talking to this clerk, i beg you don’t include me. I might write it on my shirt so everytime they see me, the oldest know to swerve. SWERVE Life is potent, bits of fucked shit… till they took notice weren’t no hocus pocus, it was hard work that got me heard so i put in the graph like google maps but the whole earth

… around my door mat, taking over like the drones, rolling dirt up in miles like the water, and exploding like Annas hematoma. Don't need to see a slammer to know that I don't want to go man

I’m a showman. I’m just focused on the drama… like i’ve got my own insurance, show myself the pain, like i boxed it in the frame, if we’re about to talk greatness im great, the way you have to say my name like beyonce

“Say my name”

4:00-4:46

Just a bum with a cigarette, sun coming up, all my thoughts on the internet. Feeling deep, I’m just bored with the silhouette single sec, get fucked up for the thrill of it . killer streak playing Pacman. Like I came from the Philippines vanilla bean still a thing for the thrill of scene,

Theres a beam, UFO, Leave it well alone I aint moving, stood still on the peloton, telephone and its always on the dial tone, it's been a while since i’ve smiled at a milestone, seen a big pile in my mind stone, me against the world on my Jack Jones, Like I’m John Jones, With pictures in the condo, far from John Doe, in the ___, like I'm Johnny Bravo, got pravado, with a small dick sitting in golados, feeling far gone, cuz that last hit was the good shit, was that stay lit

4:48-5:02

You can never take my shit come and get me. On the top floor, cloud 9, fading, never bailing, felt amazing, inhaling, til my lungs two guns blazing. Overcome all the stunts that I pulled. A suit of just skin and then wool

5:02- 5:17

This life doesn’t give you no armour, a lot of myself can harm ya. I swear on what’s good, that I’m here till they take me. I pray that I’m wrinkled, at least over 80, and start moving like a ruler, ?damaged? Like a computer going fast, bars from the jeweler, bring the songs to the beach in hopes of finding tuna

5:18-5:36

…

5:36- 6:16

Grab a bat, lose my rag. Couple things got me mad, a couple people got me wrong and now I’m changing up the swag. Coming in and stealing it, I might take the whole bag. Feeling undefeated, I’m a beast with a reason, and imma lead the whole pack. Fearless like I’m Caesar, I’m just waiting for a chance to fill it up with diesel, and all I've been achieving is clocking miles in its region, moving like a legion.

Promise that I made to myself an allegiance. Do you still believe I’m a fool for ever leaving, staring at the ceiling, can never put a cap on achieving. I’m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving.

I’ve had about enough of being my own enemy, it’s time I grew up, a long way from 17. Always went against the grain, struggles in my life. Got some things to say when I stand up on a mike.

6:16-6:32

I ain’t dropping this for fame, I need this time, like therapy, it’s just to keep me sane. The truth is on my medicine, can’t put that on your plate.

Speeding into everything, bout time I fixed the brakes. Don’t say I can’t communicate , you know I conversate with you in several different ways. And I know you know it’s references, looking at your face.

6:33- 6:53

Can’t justify mistakes, like every man that made them, seems I ain't the one to blame. Lying to myself, only had so much to gain, so now I’m switching up the plate, see if that affects the place, im at on most days

I ain’t going with the usual so they looking at me strange. Confused, I can feel it all, I’m here to make a change. It’s cold at 3am outside, I’m walking with the dog, thanking god that you don’t talk at all, my mind is switching off

6:54-7:12

Driving down to find myself, cuz I’ve been getting lost, lived this selfless life and found I can give a toss. Lessons that I’ve learned I’ve tried teaching to myself. What I’ve learnt from certain people is that they’re better than myself.

So I surround myself with real ones, and you feel the plastic melt. Like burning toy soldiers that used to go up on the shelf. Recycle the ideas, conveying on the belt

7:14-7:29

.. circus, always hurting the way we felt? Embarrassed that we dreamt of bigger things and letting go of notions till we feel them in cement

Tired of only hoping, we feel broken men. Cuz the gravity is weight and has kept us to the ground, see the only people speaking with favors in their mouths

7:46-7:58

Got killer rhymes… no fillers, like godzilla, eating clouds cuz my smokes thicker, throat licker, my dope sicker, bringing people their hope like im the pope slicker, i hope you’re getting the point cuz i walk quicker

I thought my city was shit bcs I want bigger like my zipper couldn’t zip up fed up with the…my love is fickle.. Residual age has a primitive face

I see demise for your limited ways, Left it to simmer, simmer away…a fake glimmer in the haze

8:09-8:11

Feeling trapped this industry is a cage

8:34-8:50

Nobody’s speaking the truth, I’m offended by the State. Look at the state of the news, I’ve decided the argument, reciting my views, while they’ve been sat in their chairs, I’m feeling pressure to choose.

Standing here as one man, how can I do half when you’re half the person I am. If it wasn’t in your life, you didn’t choose it. It’s the funny thing about music. It’s the pain and beauty of it.

8:52-9:11

Don’t give a fuck what my suit is, it looks good so I wear it, better than the shoot that People’s wearing, changing the whole narrative for these basics and scarcity

Been facing the racists from back when i were a kiddie .born up in in 93’. been living in Bradford City..kicked me out of the schools, they had a problem with me hitting the kids that would call me p*** still sitting in the classroom chilling, and i'm angry now that I’m older I see they treat us different

9:12-9:25

got me thinking I’m the problem cuz they never dealt with those issues.

20 years later I’m still in the same boat, tryna treat me like my grandpa, say I came up off the boat. Came to tell you what I stand for, man I think you’re shit, a joke. How can I be civil, when they got me by the throat

9:25-9:35

Pushing my feelings down, you ain’t got it like them

‘Boy your skin is so light’, ok motherfucker take my name up on a flight. Try to convince immigration that your bloodline’s half white.

9:35-9:45

I don’t know how that’s acceptable, when life is more susceptible to perception, be the death of them. I’ve been looking at the sky saying where’s that day of reckoning, you had your prophets right when they say that you would speak to them.

9:45-9:55

I need justice in this life and I trust that it’s my fight, cuz when I’m writing it feels right to have them focused on the facts again. Focused on the rap again, hoping for the change, gunna put this on the map again

9:55-10:16

Writing in all caps again, the pain, it goes through me so I write the letter. All the shit that could have brought me but made me better.

I’m at home with a pain in my soul , yeh rap… cuz you know I was too real to contest it, my time was invested. Now I look at the industry, I see it infested, looking like kids who would write on nesquik.

10:17-10:29

My name ain’t on the list unless they label it ethnic.

I ain’t never gave a fuck about these jokers and jesters. Ain’t no answers for these things, so just save us the questions, man allowed of violence, cuz my silence is deafening, your opinion stinks, somebody get him a breath mint.

10:30- 10:42

Start to understand why they think that I’m threatening, I move in certain ways, couldn’t slow me with ketamine Now they all wanna hear me, got a table at letterman. Direction changed, like I changed up the lettering. Don’t believe the age ,bcs I move like a veteran.

10:42 - 10:47

Raised on the benefit for whose benefit, they’ll never learn shit, man, if the shoe fits.

…no words coming out when you open your mouth

And to be honest, it’s insulting, offensive to my wounds that have been salting. Tryna ask me questions that they know I never answer. I’d rather sit online and reply to the fan art

11:00-11:06

Fuck a sports car, coming through when i rapped

tell you what I like, farm life and the tractor

11:06- 11:17

Fake life, 'sup online, suck a fat one. You don’t wanna buy into that, none of that son. Sitting in the garden 98’ in the Datsun, seen some hot summers but I still remember that sun.

*music*

11:51- 12:34

I make millions off of my pain, cause I know a few millions still living that way

Dealing with the hurt, they should know cause they don’t deserve it, it hit deep cause i hit the nerve. Only way that the sheep learn if the street firm, in my ways I don’t wanna change, everything just stay the same

Who you tryna convince you understand, cant maintain, let the lights dim some, get the Chow Mein, flex, get the tape, right up at night

Why these men be nice to my face, be nice, i ain’t tryna be a gangsta ruins my vibe

Rather be low-key and on my phone. Never need the trophy or the show piece

Never show peace in a North Face fleece. Show kids this like i wrote my flip

Cause the sign might fit till the start i’m sick

12:37-13:05

Now you see where I come from, the world don’t. Only achievement in this life is the Jordans. Committing petty crimes out of boredom, we can’t afford them. So I stole it, need a rolex

Go make sense, get yourself a job, It’s a poor man’s game tryna sit and pray to god, he ain’t sorting out your problems, gotta sort them out yourself

Used to tell us fables, now I’m writing them myself, Cause we raw like animals we all just need some help

Cathartic, I’m an artist, trying to put my heart in

Felt double crossed like Leo in Departed

13:05- 13:27

For the knowledge i’m not charging see I got it all free

But my hunger kept me starving like i’m feening for the feed

I just Need a reason to see me bleeding for my creed. Trick you with the words like I keep em up my sleeve. Picking where I fit, I see me sitting with the queen

I ain’t doing it unless you’re used to saying please

Let me flow a bit, before I sting 'em with the bees, They tryna kill us with disease

(Music)

13:34- 14:12

Why does it feel like they had the same notebook and the same four looks

Like the rain won't touch on their face, so sus when they lie don’t trust not a minor

Please no fuss, I just move through the game like must

Something in the way i adjust till i stick, Free falling like the ship, free fall till i bust

Remember 21 brother gave no fucks. Trying to project when they give them looks

In the projects, in the objects us

In my own way, never gave me love, shoulda never started this, broken hearted kid

Dried up the feeling till I stole the lid

Don’t wanna relish in the fame but I can’t resist

14:46-14:58

I like the way we feel, I like the way, I like the way

Ain’t no mistake, i am a being

I ain’t tryna be a leader, been selling out since Jesus

All my rhymes are for the readers, between the lines, like Father time, I fuck Mother Nature

14:58-15:40

That’s what they get, the connotations. Tell 'em I lived a life, and then I lived a life of adjacent? like its…. and played it patient.

Alone on my own spaceship, always tryna find greatness, still defying lines, but I’m fighting in my prime.

Shining light like Kylo while imma kill it all the time. Aging like I’m wine

Asian in my face, but still my race you can’t define. Focused on defiance, imma fight it while it’s life.

Started something sick and on my mind is what’s next, just became a dad so now I’m taking all the cheques. Better know I’m staying and paying like it’s debt. Imma get it done, if it’s taking all my breath, sweat, and down I ain’t messing around til I’m the best

Speaking in full sentences, shoulda thought about a strategy before you went at the stratosphere about this… rings around Saturn, this ain’t a battle, I’m sat, I’m here

15:40-16:22

Catch me doing magic, hired and sounding tragic I think you could use practice and until that you get the blacklist and pull like a … actress? Fooling them like a catfish, schooling like a legend, happy to be the reference, fusing like iridescence, leaving them all guessing, leaking out of my brain like a pipe I aint fixing, shining like a star you can see it from a distance

Aint many of me around p*** I’m just different Certain stages to this level aint here because fame is to the devil fuck a label, imma do this from the ghetto, clean up like Im Dettol

I’m the man to put a bet on, sight smart like a weapon, this is my kind of setting, i write the world I’m sat in, while these others live on hype, i see them fight in how they type, the fruit is ripe for the taking, i think i might

16:22-16:57

Let me take you away from here, Let me take you away from here, Let me take you away from here

16:58- 17:47

Eccentric things are mentioned like a kid stuck in detention tryna escape im just spitting what is written on the next page, spitting image of my dad in his young days

Born sinner when i’m livid i say fucks sake

Don’t worry i’m too cunning with no plumbing, the waterworks, i sung something that resonates, i thought it first like giving birth to the parrot perch

They see me do it and they know it works

Don’t know what’s worse: the way that you live your life or the way that you write a verse

You’ll be nervous, you don’t deserve it we’ll scratch the surface ill leave a crater, lift the dirt up to find the hurting

Can’t know for certain nothing is guaranteed, tryna be a better person than the world deserves to see cuz i see a lot of sharks still swimming in the sea

Cease and arrest what’s the reason.. And these the kinda kids we bringing up next

Distorted reality, all they needed was family, too hard to face, to see what the damage is

17:47

*i don’t wanna be, i don’t wanna be, a part of this, no, i don’t wanna be, i don’t wanna be, a part of this, *

18:04-18:38

Sometimes they ask the questions too deep to form a sentence, to disform, is this the norm, is this the sentence i feel defenseless i played the setlist, and all my sweat blood and tears, forgot to mention feeling lost, going off into different sections i feel like love wrecked it

If it’s not a drug why am i waiting for the next fix, affected, i cant believe that you left this

I guess I leave for the best wish, moving on like im fine for the lectures

We see it all from spectrums, cuz if we’re falling down we can fall down together

Staircase to heaven, mirror down the middle like 11, resentment on one side it won’t settle

18:38- 19:14

Mind fried but taking sense, they aint got a sense of themselves in the rich ends

Need to spell it out for them.. Made for them so witness

I know you feel afflicted but you always love it with me while im laughing at you, ya think you’re laughing with me

I try to (i love you) but im grown so they don’t fit me, my body thrown from the new to this old city so Im sick of sitting on my own, feeling so shitty, i’ve been on roads where its cold and the snow hitting

Its okay to be yourself, sit and talking to myself

I’ve been walking for the longest, just need a little rest, know i ain’t the strongest, I can feel it in my chest, talking about my feelings and of me, they get the best

19:14-19:59

They aint leaving, seeing breathing in my breath

Till death do us part is just seeded in my heart, like a work of art

Never winning,im just scared

Cant begin from the start, do i play a part in the rhythm of the night

I guess i’m onto something cuz the dark is feeling right

Every cloud got a lining, put my own miles in, like moralis, figured that they’re jealous, that they could just never tell us to change because the weather never made me question whether or not i’m not that level

Got rid of all the bullshit sitting in my way, most of them are full of shit i see it every day

I do hearing the same things that i do, maybe that shits hitting like haiku

How much do you pay for them to hype you

Recycle your flaws but they aint like new, leaving and conceded and full of diesel like engines that need a cleaning, the ending will be revealing. Even though we ain’t raising the facts, now we been facing.

20:01-20:52

The cactus with spikes, needing spaces. Different faces, the same story. A full body like straight body direct to your system.

Could never tell 'em we missed’ em. Not even with the thoughts, we gift them. Cuz they just take advantage, guess we are caught in a system.

My soul pouring out details of borrowed time, had enough of a fill, this is for sorrow time. I’m seeing visions of Heaven, I seen the severed line, between the gospel they speak and when theyre telling lies.

Remember telling a friend of mine, you’d sent of mine, identified like a 3rd eye. Got a habit of knowing now where the dirt lies. So benign. I ain’t sober after 9, so I fuck their minds. Why you flipping out, see another

Try to rep it from the city, fuck a chiller crew, repping for the nittys, trying to keep us down, raised on the social, don’t want to let us out of the system. Me, I insist we assist them, me alone putting shifts til I lift them

20:53-21:12

I know it’s hard, that’s why I like it, I’m fit to fight it, I’m from the North, I’m backing Tyson, it’s been decided, don’t see no light. They needing guiding, just redefining, realizing, I’m realigning, in full finance, they stay silenced.

Can’t be louder, I’m juiced up with no powder. I fix shit like a slick spanner. Gone green like Bruce Banner. So free Gaza on my banner

21:12-21:51

The real McCoy, I ain’t nothing to toy with, signifying peace like a Japanese Koi Fish. How did this happen, we’re moving backwards in our timeline, killing us with cyanide, Right up for the freedom 'til we transform like Ironhide

This is bout my feelings, the way that I move affects the fate that I’m sealing. Can’t say nothing, with that something being on the page, kept inside the pen like the bars that have been kept caged. See I always had a plan, since I was young, we had nothing man

Now it’s been a few years since I ain’t seen the fam, on foreign lands. Bout to climb Everest in the avalanche. Right into the riddles as soon as you were born. Never asking the question cuz it’s the norm. See I’m in a questionin’ session

21:52-22:03

Like the manner got a method to teaching a lesson, listen to MF Doom, he taught me like Ra’s Al Ghul. Felt like living in Gotham, the people were rotten. Still we play cartoons so it’s never forgotten.

22:03-22:15

Chilling at the top but we came from the bottom. Writing and jottin for them life by, spotting the difference

*Dreams, was growing out of me, sun promising that tomorrow it will rise, time playing games with my mind, I swear it will pass us by

Train goes on the tracks, smoke, I’m tired to hide my thoughts, so blinded in flames, Don’t know where we’re going, I have no way of knowing, only see what’s in my head

Can’t we wait a minute, so we can savour this, It’s on my brain again, these days, It on my brain again these days”

23:10-23:46

They’re hating on Palestine ways, The oh no Palace playing Prince on the Steinway, Sending out mind waves, stop them like crimewaves, Freedom fighter, Yellow Metal is my name

Like vipers, I see the sly ones, the snake that’s called Biden, none of them abiding what they might put in writing

We should be used to it by now, say whatever for the vote and then just choose another route, say they’d never kill another unless that brother’s skin is brown

I’m just telling you the facts, if you can’t take it, the truth naked, to bare bones and my thoughts lately, spitting politics.. Done ain’t it, Shit just gets me vexed, and now I’m sitting that I think of it

23:45-23:59

Feeling on the brink of it, whatever it is, Figure out some shit at least it feels that way

talk about my feelings and I don’t feel so strange, finding solace, that’s a promise, in Metropolis but being honest, can’t write a sonnet, without some pain

24:00-24:40

Can’t fade away, away so we can savour this, been on my brain again these days

Can't find a way to be so you can savour this, been on my brain these days

Singing the song for another, singing a song for another

#zayn #yellowmetal #cathartic #feel free to correct me pls #cathartic lyrics

115 notes · View notes

acidmanticore · 3 years

Text

More fairy tales?

"Princess-frog" or "Frog princess"

[starting with Vasnetsov painting of course, other illustrations are by Bilibin]

In one kingdom lived a tsar, and he had three sons. Youngest one was prince Ivan.

Once tsar called for his sons and told them:

- My dear children, you're of age now, it's time to think about getting married!

- But how do we choose who to marry, father?

- Take each an arrow, draw your bows and shoot to the different sides. Where the store falls, go look for your bride.

Brothers went to the castle square, drew their bows and shot.

First the oldest brother shot, arrow feel into boyar's court and boyar's daughter picked it up.

Then the second brother shot, any his arrow flew into merchant's yard, and merchant's daughter picked it up.

Prince Ivan shot an arrow and it fell into the mire and the frog picked it up.

Older brothers went looking for their arrows and found them soon - one in the boyar's chambers, another - in the merchant's house. But prince Ivan could find his arrow. For two days he was walking through forests and mountains and on the third day came to the mire. Looks - little frog sits there holding his arrow.

Prince Ivan wanted to run and pretend he haven't find anything but frog said:

- Croak-croak, prince Ivan! Come here, take your arrow and marry me.

Prince got very sad and answered:

- How can I marry you? People will laugh at me!

- Take it, prince Ivan, you don't regret it.

Prince Ivan thought for a while, took a frog, wrapped it into a napkin and brought it home.

Older brothers returned and told where their arrows fell.

Prince Ivan told as well. Brothers started laughing but father said:

- Well, there's nothing to do, marry a frog!

The marriage y were celebrated, three princess got married: older prince married the boyar's daughter, middle prince married three merchant's daughter and prince Ivan married... A frog.

Next day tsar called for his sons and said:

- Well, my dear sons, you all married now. I want to know if your wives know how to cook. Let them bake each a loaf of bread for the tomorrow morning.

Princes bowed deeply and went away. Prince Ivan returned to his chambers devastated, almost in tears.

- Croak-croak, prince Ivan, - said the frog, - why are you so sad? Did your father tell you something hurtful?

- How can't I be sad! - answered prince Ivan, - My father ordered you to bake a bread for tomorrow morning! Yourself!

- Don't worry, prince Ivan! Go sleep, morning is wiser than evening!

Frog waited till prince fell asleep, threw frog skin off and turned into beautiful princess Vasilisa the Wise - so beautiful it can't be described by words in any tale.

She took a sieve, sifted wheat flour, kneaded the white dough, baked a loaf - loose and soft, decorated the loaf with different intricate patterns: on the sides - towns with palaces, gardens and towers, above them - flying birds, on the bottom - prowling animals.

In the morning frog woke prince up:

- It's time, prince Ivan, get up, take the bread to your father!

She's put the loaf onto the golden plate and Ivan went to the tsar.

Older brothers also came, brought their breads, but there were nothing to look at: boyar's daughter's bread for burnt, merchant's daughter's - undercooked and saggy.

At first tsar took the older brother's bread, looked at it and ordered to throw it to the dogs.

Took the one from the second son, looked at it and said:

- A bread like this one could eat only out of great hunger.

Ivan's turn came. Tsar took a bread from him and said:

- A bread like this can be served at the grand celebrations!

And immediately gave his sons another order:

- I want to know how good your wives at needlework. Take silk, gold and silver, and let them weave a carpet for me with their own hands overnight!

Older princes returned to their wives and gave them their father's order. Wives started to call their matrons and maids to help them weave carpets. Matrons and maids gathered and started weave and embroider - some with silver, some with gold, some with silk.

Prince Ivan returned home sad, unable to raise his eyes.

- Croak-croak, prince Ivan, - said the frog, - why are you so sad? Did your father tell you something hurtful?

- How can't I be sad! - answered prince Ivan, - father ordered to make him an embroidered carpet overnight!

- Don't worry, prince Ivan! You better go sleep, morning is wiser than evening.

Frog waited till he fell asleep, then took off her frog skin, turned into beautiful girl Vasilisa the Wise and started to weave the carpet. Pokes with a needle once - flower blooms, pokes another time - complicated patterns appear, pokes third - birds fly...

Sun was still asleep when carpet were finished.

Three brothers came to the tsar in the morning, each brought a carpet. Tsar took the first one and said:

- This carpet's only use to cover horses from the rain!

Took from the second brother, liked and said:

- This carpet's only place is under the gates!

Took from prince Ivan, looked and said:

- And this carpet should be layed in my chambers for big celebrations!

And immediately gave another order, for all three princes to come to his feast next day with their wives: he wants to see which princess is a better dancer.

Princes went to their wives.

Prince Ivan goes sad, thinking to himself: "How can I bring the frog to the royal feast?"

When he came home, frog asked;

- Why are you sad again, prince Ivan? What bothers you?

- How can't I be sad! - said prince Ivan, - father ordered me to bring you with me for the royal feast...

- Don't worry, prince Ivan! Go sleep, morning is wiser than evening!

Next day, when time came for the feast, frog said:

- Well, prince Ivan, go to the feast by yourself, and I will come after you. When you'll hear rumble and thunder - don't be scared, say: "It's my frog rides in her box".

Prince Ivan went to the tsar's feast alone.

And older brothers came with their wives dressed like queens, beautiful. They're standing and laughing at Ivan:

- Why did you, brother, come without your wife? Could've at least brought her in some napkin, let us all listen how she's croaking!

Suddenly loud rumble and thunder arose - whole castle started shaking. All the guests for scared, jumped off their seats. And prince Ivan said:

- Don't be afraid, dear guests! It's my frog coming in her box!

Everyone ran to the windows and saw: runners run, messengers galloping, and behind them a gilded carriage harnessed by three bay horses.

Carriage came right to the threshold and stepping out of it is Vasilisa the Wise - shining bright like the sun.

Everyone is looking at her, stunned by surprise and beauty, unable to say anything.

Vasilisa the Wise took Ivan by the hand and led him to the oak tables, to the embroidered tablecloths...

Guests started to eat, drink and have fun.

Vasilisa the Wise drinks from the goblet - doesn't drink all, spills the rest into her left sleeve. Eats roasted swan - puts bones into her right sleeve.

Older princes wives noticed that and started mimicking: what left from the drinks - into left sleeve, what food not finished - into the right one. But why, for what purpose - don't know themselves.

When guests got up from the tables, music started, dances began. Vasilisa the Wise went dancing with prince Ivan. Waved with her left sleeve - lake appeared, waved with right - white swans swimming in the lake. The tsar and all his guests were amazed. And when she's stopped dancing, all disappeared - both lake and swans.

Older princes' wives went dancing.

They waved with their left sleeves - and just spattered all the guests with wine, waved right sleeves - showered them with bones, one barely missed tsar's eye. Tsar got mad and ordered to kick them out of the ballroom.

Near the end of the feast prince Ivan found a minute and ran to his chambers. Found frog's skin and burned it with fire.

Vasilisa the Wise returned home, looks - there's no frog skin! She rushed to look for it. She's searched, searched, couldn't find and told prince Ivan:

- Ah, prince Ivan, what have you done! If you've waited for three more days, I would've been forever yours. And now - good bye, look for me far away from the lands, far away from the seas, in the land being the edge, in the sunless kingdom of Koshchey the Undying. As you wear out three pairs of iron boots, as you gnaw out three iron breads - only then you'll find me...

She said so, turned into a white swan and flew out of the window.

Prince Ivan was mortified. He equipped himself, took his bow and arrows, put on iron boots, put three iron breads into his shoulderbag and went to look for his wife, Vasilisa the Wise.

He was walking for long or for short, far or close - tale told fast, life is not, - two pairs of iron boots worn out, two iron breads gnawed, started the third one. And then he's meet an old man.

- Hello, grandpa! - said prince Ivan.

- Hello, good fellow! What are you looking for, where are you going?

Prince Ivan told him about his grief.

- Oh, prince Ivan! - said the old man, - Why did you burn the frog skin? You didn't put it on, you didn't have to take it off! Vasilisa the Wise was born more cunning and wise than her father, Koshchey the Undying, he's got angry and ordered her to live as a frog for three years! Well, there's nothing to do, words can't fix the trouble. Here's a ball for you: where it rolls, you go there.

Prince Ivan thanked the old man and went after the ball.

The ball rolls through the high mountains, told through dark forests, told through the green meadows, told through the swampy mires, rolls through the abandoned places, and prince Ivan goes on and on after it - he won't stop even for an hour of rest.

He went on and on, worn out the third pair of iron boots, gnawed the third iron bread, and came to the dense coniferous forest. A bear comes across him.

"Let me kill the bear! - thinks prince Ivan, - I don't have any food left".

He took aim but the bear suddenly told him in a human voice:

- Don't kill me, prince Ivan! You'll need me someday.

Prince Ivan didn't shoot the bear and went on.

He went through an open field and noticed a large drake flying over him.

Prince Ivan drew his bow and was about to shoot a sharp arrow at the drake, but the drake spoke to him in a human voice:

- Don't kill me, prince Ivan! The time will come - you'll need me.

Prince Ivan listened to the drake and didn't shoot him, went on hungry.

Suddenly a hare find towards him.

"I'll kill this hare! - thinks the prince, - I'm very hungry..."

He drew his tight bow, began to aim, and the hare said in a human voice:

- Don't kill me, prince Ivan! The time will come - you'll need me.

And the prince pitied him too and went on.

He came to the blue sea and saw: on the shore, on the yellow sand, lies a pike. Prince Ivan said:

- Well, now I'll eat this pike! I can't hold on any longer, I'm so hungry!

- Ah, prince Ivan! - said the pike, - Have mercy, do not eat me, but rather throw me back into the blue sea!

Prince Ivan pitied the pike, threw out into the sea and went on form the shore after his ball.

He was walking for long or for short, the ball rolls to the forest, to the hut. The hut standing on it's chicken legs, turning around itself.

Prince Ivan said:

- Hut, hut, turn your back to the forest, turn your front to me!

As he said, the hut turned its back to the forest and it's going to him. Prince Ivan entered the hut and saw: on the furnace lays Baba Yaga - bone leg. She saw the price and said:

- Why did you come to me, good fellow? By your will or by force?

- Ah, Baba Yaga, bone leg, why won't you feed me first, give me some water, site me the steam-bath, then ask questions?

- True, - answered Baba Yaga.

She fed prince Ivan, have him water and showed him the steam-bath, and then prince told her that he's looking for his wife, Vasilisa the Wise.

- I know, I know! - said Baba Yaga, - She's now with the evil Koshchey the Undying. It'll be difficult to get her, it don't be easy to deal with Koshchey: you can't kill him with an arrow or a sword. That's why he's not afraid of anyone.

- Is his death hidden somewhere?

- His death is on the end of a needle, that needle is in an egg, that egg is in a duck, duck in a hare, hare is in an iron casket, and that casket is on the top of an old oak. And that oak is in the dense forest, and Koshchey guards in like his own eye.

Baba Yaga told Ivan how to find the oak. Prince thanked her and went away. He was walking through the dense forests and swamps, and finally reached the oak. He looks at it and doesn't know what to do,how to get the chest. He's tried to shake the oak or climb it but nothing worked.

Suddenly bear showed up and uprooted the oak, the chest fell from the top and broke into pieces. Hare jumped out of it and took to its heels.

Look - another hare already running after it, catching up. He caught it and tore in pieces.

Duck flew out of the hate and rose high into the skies. But the drake chased it and hit it so hard the egg fell out and dropped right into the blue sea. Seeing this prince Ivan sat on the shore and started crying.

But then the pike swims to him holding the egg in her teeth.

Prince took the egg and went to the Koshchey's castle. As soon as Koshchey saw the egg in Ivan's hands, he's started shaking. And prince Ivan was throwing the egg from hand to hand, playing. He's throwing and Koshchey is panicking. But whatever needs tried to do, when Ivan broke the egg and broke off the tip of the needle, Koshchey the Undying turned to dust.

Then Ivan went to Koshchey's chambers, let Vasilisa the Wise out and they've returned to his kingdom and since lived together happily in love and harmony.

#fairy tales #russian fairy tales #fairy tale #Slavic #slavic fairy tales #slavic folklore #slavic paganism #slavic culture #russian folklore #Princess-Frog #Frog Princess #illustrations #old illustrations #Bilibin

39 notes · View notes

marie-in-the-hallway · 3 years

Text

Watermelon Sugar pt 1

wc: 2.3k

warnings: minor sexual content, swearing

...

Jenna doesn't know how her life came to be like this.

She was a good person; she had partied hard in uni, yes, but she studied hard enough to make up for it. She's nice enough to leave at least a twenty percent tip every time she gets the check, and certainly nice enough to drop coins in the tip jars of the baristas who make her coffee. She calls her mum a lot and she loves her sisters and she takes good care of her plant, a cactus she'd named Steve. She’s hilarious and witty, her friends love her, and she makes a decent enough living.

So it doesn't explain why she's lying on the floor, with Harry Styles, of all people, planking on top of her.

As in, seventeenth most influential person in London, pop-star-turned-rock-star Harry Styles. The same Harry Styles who has had countless model girlfriends, left, right and centre. One right now, in fact: Camille Rowe. Also the same Harry Styles who has been the subject of Jenna’s sex dreams since she was about eighteen.

(What can she say, she's consistent. The kid might change her look every few years but the libido wants what it wants. Or something.)

Anyway, the point is that, currently, Jenna is looking straight into Harry's gorgeous green eyes and she can feel the heat of Harry's body radiating onto hers. She can also feel one of Harry's soft curls brushing against her forehead, and she knows that if she looked down, she'd see Harry's pink lips, quirked amusedly, like Jenna is something of a particularly endearing animal.

In summary, Harry looks like something straight out of Jenna’s masterbating vault, and Jenna is especially thankful at this moment that she does not have a cock because it would be hard as a rod at this very moment.

"Do you, uh, work out a lot?" She blurts out, her mouth temporarily disconnecting from her brain, and she watches as Harry blinks, his long lashes brushing the tops of her cheekbones.

There's a pause, and then she hears a snort.

"Is this a dating show, mate?" Nick Grimshaw, the twat, says, half-laughing from his seat at the radio console. He raises his voice in a poor imitation of Jenna, stuttering out a ‘do you, uh, work out a lot’ in between his giggles.

Jenna turns her head to look at him and scowls. "Shut up," she says, trying to ignore the cute way Harry is giggling on top of her. It doesn't really work, but at least she tried.

Nick raises his hands defensively. "Hey, I'm bringing us back on track. You're supposed to be asking him questions about his new album, not asking him if he works out. You're tiring out the little pop star there."

"Nah," Jenna hears Harry's low voice drawl from above her, and she turns her attention back to the hot boy on top of him. "`m not tired yet. Besides, I'm kind of enjoying the view." He shoots Jenna a cheeky wink, and Jenna feels her face flush.

"Okay," she says loudly, mostly for the benefit of herself. She vaguely wonders how red she looks on camera, and whether or not she can get the ground to swallow her whole right about now. Maybe she should retire after this. Radio 1 would just have to look for another person who won't choke in the vicinity of Nick's hairspray fumes.

Every day at one to four pm, Nick and Jenna host "The Future is Now", a radio programme where they play music, talk about celebrity gossip and tease each other. It's supposedly nothing special, just two childhood friends making fun of each other and making fun of celebrities and their drama and occasionally talking about football, but apparently their banter has made it the most popular rated programme on BBC Radio 1. So popular that a few months ago, their producer sat them down and told them to "come up with more shenanigans", an order Jenna was happy to comply with. Her and Nick have then proceeded to do almost everything, from innuendo bingo with a twist to organizing a huge water fight in Radio 1.

Their latest shenanigan is interviewing their celebrity guests in the weirdest way they can, and last time Nick had interviewed Taylor Swift through trying to interpret her answers through drawing. It was massively funny, a huge failure, and also very exhausting, according to Nick, because who knew that Taylor was such a terrible artist?

Which is also why it's Jenna’s turn to do the interviewing this time.

However, she's ninety-nine point nine percent sure that Nick did this on purpose. Drunk Jenna might have let it slip a few weeks back that she has a not-so-small crush on a certain very famous Harry Styles, and Nick, because he was apparently close friends with Harry, invited him to plank over Jenna.

Jenna’s going to light a match near his hair and watch his twatty quiff burn down.

"Okay," Jenna says again, because no matter how much she wants to go back in time and ensure Nick was never born, Harry Styles with his hair and his dimples is still above her, smiling like it takes no effort to plank like this at all. He's the most attractive man Jenna has ever seen in her entire life. "We're going to have a quickie--" and she resolutely ignores Nick's sniggers from the console and the way his face heats up, "--which is like a lightning round of questions, until you feel you need to lower yourself down or until the timer runs out. Alright?"

Harry nods at her, grinning even wider, and Jenna decides to pin her focus on Harry's left dimple so as not to be distracted by the rest of his face.

"Nachos or Tacos?" She asks, starting the game immediately.

"Tacos."

"Red or Blue?"

"Blue."

"Favorite emoji to use in a text message?"

"The tongue and the peach." Jenna ignores the almost-obscene way Harry says it. She also ignores Nick's snorts from the table. She can do this. She just needs to ignore the way she’s wet from this small interaction and get this done like the professional she is, before she can go home and masterbate herself away to oblivion.

"Favorite song from your new album?"

"Um," Harry says, and Jenna feels his forearms shift from where it's beside her head. "Watermelon Sugar?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Jenna asks Harry's left dimple. See, she can be normal.

"Watermelon Sugar." Harry repeats, much firmer. "It's about oral sex."

Jenna’s eyes fly off Harry's left dimple and into his eyes. "I don't think you can say that on radio."

Harry just shrugs, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Sorry."

"Cheeky," Jenna mutters, before plunging on. "Most important feature of your ideal girlfriend?"

"I don't know if I can say it on radio," Harry shoots back almost immediately, his smile widening.

Somewhere from his place on the radio console, Nick cackles. Jenna hopes he chokes on his own saliva.

"Something radio friendly, then," Jenna answers, keeping her voice level.

"Well," Harry drawls out, seemingly lost in thought, "I'm much more of a bum kind of guy," and Nick's cackles get louder and louder. "I like a nice, firm, handful of bum. But if it has to be radio friendly, maybe the smile."

"I'm going to get suspended because of you," Jenna deadpans.

"`s the truth." Harry smiles innocently. He shifts on his forearms again, and his long curl brushes over Jenna’s eye. His cross necklace also falls out of his shirt, brushing against the hollow of Jenna’s throat. "Do you like bums, Jenna?"

"I like mums? I like my mum," Jenna says absently, half blinded by Harry's curl. She feels more than hears Harry laugh from above her, his abs quivering from above her body. Which, hey. Why is Harry laughing at her? She’s just trying to keep this show together, for the sake of her job and her listeners and because Nick is a useless idiot.

She clears her throat. "Ideal date?" She asks, blinking her eye against Harry's rogue curl. She focuses on it, tries to get it off her eye with just the power of her blinks and her eye lid muscles. It doesn't really work.

Harry wiggles his eyebrows above her, and Jenna feels a slight sense of dread settle against him.

"A walk on the beach, then a candlelit dinner, then back to my place--"

"Favorite hobby?" Jenna interrupts, because she cannot do this. She can't. She’s two innuendos away from being soaked through her pants, and she’s positive there will be a wet spot if Harry continues to imply vaguely sexual things.

"I like to bake," Harry answers easily, as if he wasn't on the verge of saying obscene things a few seconds before. Jenna hates him. Jenna also kind of wants to suck his dick.

"Last thing that made you cry?"

"Um," Harry furrows his brow and bites at his bottom lip. Jenna can't stop staring. "I...fell?"

"Fell where?" Jenna asks.

"I was getting out of the shower," Harry answers slowly, still seeming deep in thought. Jenna tries not to imagine a naked Harry, with little droplets sliding down his skin. She mostly fails. "Then I, like, slipped and fell. There were a few tears."

Jenna makes a noise of sympathy, her eyes glued to Harry's lips. "What did you hurt?"

"My bum."

That makes Jenna tear her eyes away from Harry's lips and into his green eyes, which are already shining with mirth. "What is it with you and bums?"

"I told you, I'm a bum man." Harry winks. He shifts on his forearms, and Jenna realizes that the planking must already be taking a toll on him. He doesn't seem close to giving up though, and Jenna admires his determination. Her sex drive admires the rippling of the muscles in Harry's forearms and the strength of his core.

"You seem to be a little bum crazy to me."

"Heyyy," Harry says, a cute little pout making its way onto his face. "Only for certain bums. The nice ones."

Jenna doesn't answer. "Favorite app on your phone?"

"Instagram."

"Last photo you took?"

"It was, like, a photo of my sister's dog in, um, space buns."

"Space bums, nice," Jenna says, because she can. She might get suspended from radio for a few days, but she's already aroused on camera and they've been talking bums since a while ago, so.

"Yep," Harry says, playing along. "They were out of this world."

Jenna opens her mouth to ask another question when her phone starts ringing, signalling the end of their quickie. Harry unceremoniously drops himself down, his entire body now in contact with Jenna’s own. Jenna can feel her skin heat up from where Harry's touching her, their entire lower half aligned. She shifts in surprise, discovering Harry’s (not so) little problem, so Jenna just. Speaks.

“Did you know the average whale penis is ten feet long?”

She wonders if she can probably retire gracefully and run away to Guam.

Nick is still cackling like a madman but ten times harder. Jenna doesn't think he's even stopped to take a breath since he started.

Good, she thinks viciously. Maybe he'll run out of oxygen.

"I did not," she hears Harry whisper to her, his voice almost drowned out by Nick's laughter.

"Fuck," Jenna whispers, without opening her eyes. "Leave me here to die." She can't believe she ended up here, embarrassed and horny in front of the guy she's been wanking to since she was eighteen. She doesn't think life can get much worse than this.

"It's okay, you know, I blurt out things all the time" Harry whispers, his breath ghosting over Jenna’s face. "Also, you're not allowed to say ‘cock’ on radio."

Oh, so now he's concerned about radio content. What is Harry Styles.

"Please do not try to make me feel better about this," Jenna says through her teeth, ignoring his second statement. They're going to get taken off air because of this interview, anyway. She raises an arm to cover her eyes. "Just....ignore it. Please."

Harry, because he's nice, doesn't say anything anymore, instead pulls himself off of Jenna, so that he's sitting on his knees beside Jenna on the carpeted floor. Jenna takes three deep breaths before she opens her eyes, sits up, and runs to the radio console, where Nick is still cackling obnoxiously. She lets Nick take care of the goodbyes, shakes Harry's hand once and refuses to meet his eyes, and doesn't say anything until Harry has left the room and Watermelon Sugar is playing on air.

"So?" Nick hedges, nudging Louis with an elbow. "That was fun right?"

"I'm going to murder you in your sleep," Jenna answers, glaring. "That was fucking humiliating."

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad," Nick says, dismissively, wrapping an arm around Jenna’s shoulder. Jenna wants to saw it off his arm.

"You're not the one who started talking about whale cock in front of like, three cameras," Jenna hisses back at him.

"You could barely hear it anyway," Nick says, rolling his eyes. He pinches Jenna’s shoulder, waggling his eyebrows . "But Harry, eh? That was some intense flirting you had going on there."

"Nick," Jenna says, deadpan. "He's not single. You should know this, he's one of your best friends."

Nick frowns, but before he can open his mouth to say something, Jenna beats him to it. "Never mind him. He's probably going to get us suspended anyway, with all his obscene answers and talk about bums."

Nick cackles again, with his head thrown back. "That was pretty funny."

"Yeah, well let's see how funny it is when we get taken off air for a week straight," Jenna answers, rolling her eyes, before reaching over to queue up the next song.

Nick, the twat, just keeps laughing.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles x oc #harry styles writing #watermelon sugar

23 notes · View notes

rigmarolling · 4 years

Text

Historical Holiday Traditions We Really Need To Bring Back

Here comes Santa Claus, and also a bunch of annual holiday Things we do to ensure he commits a truly boggling act of breaking and entering and leaves goods underneath the large plant in the living room.

Because I’ve always got a hankerin’ for the days of yore, here are some historical holiday traditions we really need to bring back:

1. Everything that happened on Saturnalia

Saturnalia was the ancient Roman winter festival held on December 25th--which is why we celebrate Christmas on that day and not on the day historians speculate Jesus was actually born, which was probably in the spring.

Saturnalia was bonkers. As the name suggests, it celebrated the god Saturn, who represented wealth and liberty and generally having a great time.

Above: Their party is way cooler than yours could ever hope to be.

During Saturnalia, masters would serve their slaves, because it was the one day during the year when everybody agreed that freedom for all is great, actually, let’s just do that. Everyone wore a coned hat called the pilleus to denote that they were all bros and equal, and also to disguise the fact that they hadn’t brushed their hair after partying hard all week, probably.

Gambling was allowed on Saturnalia, so all of Rome basically turned into ancient Vegas, complete with Caesar’s Palace, except with the actual Caesar and his palace because he was, you know. Alive.

The most famous part (besides getting drunk off your rocker) was gift-giving--usually gag gifts. Historians have records of people giving each other some truly impressive white elephant gifts for Saturnalia, including: a parrot, balls, toothpicks, a pig, one single sausage, spoons, and deliberately awful books of poetry.

Above: Me, except all the time.

Partygoers also crowned a King of Saturnalia, which was a predecessor to the King of Fools popular in medieval festivals. The king was basically the head idiot who delivered absurd commands to everyone there, like, “Sing naked!” or “run around screaming for an hour,” or “slap your butt cheeks real hard in front of your crush; DO IT, Brutus.”

Oh, wait. Everyone was already doing all that. Hell yes.

(Quick clarification: early celebrations of Saturnalia did feature human sacrifice, so let’s just leave that bit out and instead wear the pointy hats and sing naked, okay? Io Saturnalia, everybody.)

2. Leaving out treats for Sleipnir in the hopes of avoiding Odin’s complete disregard for your property

The whole “leave out cookies and milk for Santa” thing comes from a much older tradition of trying to appease old guys with white beards. In Norse mythology, Odin, who was sort of the head god but preferred to be on a perpetual road trip instead, took an annual nighttime ride through the winter sky called the Wild Hunt.

Above: The holidays, now with 300% more heavy metal.

Variations of the Wild Hunt story exist in a bunch of European folklore--in Odin’s case, he usually brought along a bunch of supernatural buddies, like spirits and other gods and Valkyries and ghost dogs, who, the Vikings said, you could hear howling and barking as the group approached (GOOD DOGGOS).

That was the thing, though; you never actually saw Odin’s hunt--you only heard it. And hearing it did not spark the same sense of childish glee you felt when you thought you heard Santa’s sleigh bells approaching as a kid--instead, the Vikings said, you should be afraid. Be VERY afraid.

Because Odin could be kind of a dick.

Odin was also known as the Allfather, and like any father, he hated asking for directions. GPS who? I’m the Allfather, I’m riding the same way I always ride.

And that was pretty much it: “I took this road last year and I’m taking it again this year.”

“But,” someone would pipe up from the back, “there are houses on the road now--we’re gonna run right into them. We could just take a different path; there’s actually a detour off the--”

“Nope,” Odin would say. “They know the rules. My road, my hunt, my rules. We’re going this way.”

So if you were unlucky enough to have built your house along one of Odin’s favorite road trip sky-ways, he wouldn’t just plow right past you.

He would burn your entire house down--and your family along with it.

Kids playing in the yard? Torch ‘em; they should have known better. Grandma knitting while she waits for her gingerbread Einherjar to finish baking? Sucks to be her; my road, my rules, my beard, I’m the Allfather, bitch.

Above: Santa, but so much worse.

To be fair to Odin, he could be a cool guy sometimes. He just turned into any dad when he was on a road trip and wanted to MAKE GOOD TIME, DAMN IT, I AM NOT STOPPING; YOU SHOULD HAVE PEED BEFORE WE LEFT.

To ensure they didn’t incur Odin’s road trip wrath, the Vikings had a few ways of smoothing things over with Dad.

They would leave Odin offerings on the road, like pieces of steel (??? okay ???) or bread for his dogs, or food for his giant, eight-legged horse, Sleipnir, because the only true way to a man’s heart is through his pet.

People would generally leave veggies and oats and other horse-y things out for Sleipnir, whose eight legs made him the fastest flying horse in the world and also made him the only horse to ever win Asgard’s coveted tap dancing championship.

(Side note: EIGHT legs...EIGHT tiny reindeer...eh? Eh? See how we got here? Thanks, nightmare horse!)

Above: An excellent prancer AND dancer.

And if Odin was feeling particularly charitable and not in the mood for horrific acts of arson, children would also leave their shoes out for him--it was said that he’d put gifts in your boots to ring in a happy new year.

If all that didn’t work and the Vikings heard the hunt approaching, they would resort to throwing themselves on the ground and covering their heads while the massive party sped above them like a giant Halloween rager.

So this holiday season, leave your boots out for Odin and some carrots out for his giant spider horse or you and your entire family will die in a fiery inferno, the end.

3. Yule Logs

Speaking of Scandinavia, another Northern European winter solstice tradition was the yule log. Today, if you google “yule log,” something like this will pop up:

...which isn’t an actual log, but is instead log-shaped food that you shove into your mouth along with 500 other cakes at the same time because it’s CHRISTMAS, and I’m having ME TIME; so WHAT if I ate the whole jar of Nutella by myself, alone, in the dark at 3 am?

But that log cake is actually inspired by actual logs of yore that Celtic, Germanic, and Scandinavian peoples decorated with fragrant plants like holly, ivy, pinecones, and other Stuff That Smells Nice before tossing the log into the fire.

This served a few purposes:

It smelled nice, and Bath and Body Works scented candles hadn’t been invented yet.

It had religious and/or spiritual significance as a way to mark the winter solstice.

It was a symbolic way of ringing in the new year and kicking out the old.

Common belief held that the ashes of a yule log could ward off lightning strikes and bad energy.

Winter cold. Fire warm.

Everybody loves to watch things burn. (See: Odin.)

The yule log cakes we eat today got their start in 19th century Paris, when bakers thought it was a cute idea to resurrect an ancient pagan tradition in the form of a delicious dessert, and boy, howdy, were they right.

In any case, I’m 100% down with eating a chocolate yule log while burning an actual yule log in my backyard because everybody loves to watch things burn; winter cold, fire warm; and hnnnngggg pine tree smell hnnnnggg.

(Quick note: The word “yule” is the name of a traditional pagan winter festival, still celebrated culturally or religiously in modern pagan practice. It’s also another name for Odin. He had a bunch of other names, one of the most well-known being jólfaðr, which is Old Norse for “Yule father.” If you would like to royally piss him off, or if you are Loki, feel free to call him “Yule Daddy.”)

4. Upside down Christmas trees

I just found out that apparently, upside down Christmas trees are a hot new trend with HGTV types this year, so I guess this is one historical trend we did bring back, meaning it doesn’t really belong on this list, but I’m gonna talk about it, anyway.

Side note: Oh, my god, that BANNISTER. I NEED.

Historians aren’t actually sure where the inverted Christmas tree thing came from, but we know people were bringing home trees and then hanging them upside down in the living room as early as the 7th century. We have a couple theories as to why people turned trees on their heads:

Logistically, it’s way easier to hang a giant pine tree from your rafters upside down by its trunk and roots. You just hoist that baby up there, wind some rope around the rafter and the trunk, and boom. Start decorating.

A Christian tradition says that one day in the 7th century, a Benedictine monk named Saint Boniface stumbled across a group of pagans worshipping an oak tree. So, instead of minding his own damn business, he cut the tree down and replaced it with a fir tree. While the pagans were like, “Dude, what the hell?” Boniface used the triangular shape of the fir tree to explain the concept of the holy trinity to the pagans. Some versions have him planting it right-side up, others having him displaying a fir tree upside down. Either way, it’s still a triangle that’s a solid but ultimately very rude way of explaining God. Word’s still out on whether anyone was converted or just rightly pissed off that this random guy strolled into their place of worship, chopped down their sacred tree, and plopped HIS tree down instead. Please do not do that this holiday season.

Eastern Europeans lay claim to the upside-down tree phenomenon with a tradition called podłazniczek in Poland--people hung the tree from the ceiling and decorated it with fruits and nuts and seeds and ribbons and other festive doodads.

(God, who lives in these houses? Look at that. That’s like a swanky version of Gaston’s hunting lodge. Where do I get one? Which enchanted castle do I have to stumble into to chill out in a Christmas living room like that?)

Today, at least in the West, upside-down trees are making a comeback because...I don’t know. Chip and Joanna Gaines said so.

Some folks say it’s a surefire way to keep your cats from clawing their way through the tree and then puking up fir needles for weeks afterward, which checks out for me.

5. Incredibly weird Victorian Christmas cards

So back in the 19th century, the Christmas card industry was really getting fired up. Victorians loved their mail, let me tell you. They loved sending it. They loved getting it. They loved writing it. They loved opening it. They loved those sexy wax seals you use to keep all that sweet, sweet mail inside that sizzling envelope. (Those things are incredibly sexy. Have you ever made a wax seal? Oh, man, it’s hot.)

The problem, though, was that while the Victorians arguably helped standardize many of the holiday traditions we know and love today (Christmas trees, caroling, Dickens everything, spending too much money, etc.) back in 1800-whenever, a lot of that Christmas symbolism was, um...still under construction. No one had really agreed on which visual holiday cues worked and which...didn’t.

Meaning everyone just kind of made up their own holiday symbols. Which resulted in monstrous aberrations like this card:

What the hell is that? A beet? Is that a beet? Or a turnip? Why is it...oh, God, why does it have a man’s head? Why does the man beet have insect claws?

What is it that he’s holding? A cookie? Cardboard? A terra cotta planter?

And then there’s this one:

“A Merry Christmas to you,” it says, while depicting a brutal frog murder/mugging.

What are you trying to tell me? Are you threatening me with this card? Is that it? Is this a threat? How the hell am I supposed to interpret this? “Merry Christmas, hide your money or you’re dead, you stupid bitch.”

Also, why is the dead frog naked? Did the other frog steal his clothes after the murder? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS?

Victorian holiday cards also doubled as early absurdist Internet memes, apparently, because how else do I explain this?

Is this some sort of tiny animal Santa? A mouse riding a lobster? Like, the mouse, I get. Mice are fine. Disney built an empire on a mouse. And look, he’s got a little list of things he’s presumably going to bring you: Peace, joy, health, happiness. (In French. Oh, wait, is that that Patton Oswalt rat?)

But a LOBSTER? What’s with the lobster? It’s basically a sea scorpion. Why in the name of all that is good and holy would you saddle up a LOBSTER? I hate it. I hate it so, so much. Just scurrying around the floor with more legs than are strictly necessary, smelling like the seafood section of Smith’s, snapping its giant claws.

This whole card is a health inspector’s worst nightmare. It really is.

I gotta say, though, I am a fan of this one:

Presumably, that polar bear is going in for a hug because nothing stamps out a polar bear’s innate desire to rip your face from your skull than candy canes and Coke and Christmas spirit.

This next one is actually fantastic, but for all the wrong reasons:

I know everyone overuses “same” these days but geez, LOOK at that kid. I can HEAR it. SAME.

If you’ve ever been in a shopping mall stuffed with kids, nothing sums it up better than this card. This is like the perverse version of those Anne Geddes portraits that were everywhere in the late 90s. “Make wee Jacob sit in the tea pot; everyone will--Jacob, STOP, look at Mommy; I said LOOK. AT. MOMMY--everyone will love it.”

Actually, you know what? Every other Christmas card is cancelled. This is the only card we will be using from now on. This is it.

Wait, no. We can also use this one:

Merry Christmas. Here’s a fuckin’...just a dead fuckin’ bird.

#victorian #listory #christmas #holidays #mythtory #norse mythology #odin

2K notes · View notes

chorusnihili · 3 years

Note

what is wd gasters past

"A rather broad and invasive question, I'd say, but I suppose I can give you the rundown."

"I was born on the surface while tensions were already high, enough that my parents, assuming that I had them, were gone before I had a chance to remember them. I was mostly raised by a mismatch village of monsters; well-cared for, not the only one that didn't have a specific home."

"I didn't miss living on the surface and never wished to return there, quite frankly. The only thing that made it worth living there is that in my final few years there, I did have something close to an adoptive parent. Who, unfortunately, chose death over leaving their home."

"A lot of monsters like to paint the underground as this hellish, soul-sucking fate worth than death. Personally I never found it that bad. I suppose I never was the type to feel wanderlust or anything of the sort. I was happy merely knowing we were safe and humanity likely had no interest in pursuing us."

"So I dedicated most of my life to making the Underground as good a place as possible. Anything that could make life more bearable. Try to cheer up those affected the worst by the change. During this time, a lot of monsters took up psychology; you can find a lot of studies on stress, despair, and trauma written during this time; techniques for coping and helping loved ones, many of which still hold up to this day."

"Unfortunately given the fact that communication has always been a hassle to me, it ultimately wasn't a field of study that suited me well, although I've been told I'm a good listener."

"So my attention broke from such studies to poking around the world about me. Much of the underground was new and needed to be explored and understood, and, what can I say, I was young and ready to believe that magic could do anything. Except, maybe, restore my eyesight. Heh."

"The migration through the underground was relatively linear. The forests of Home, the snowy landscapes of Snowdin, the rainy marsh of Waterfall, the deep caves of Hotland, and finally, the empty caves of New Home. But New Home was the end. The final stop. Assuming a vaguely dome-shaped barrier forming to the shape of the mountain, we had found it on all sides; the entrance at Home, the exit at New Home, the presumably small entries in Waterfall that human trash falls through, the tunnels in Hotland that the lava flows through. We reached the end; there was nowhere else to go."

"Monsters began to fan out, build permanent civilizations. Asgore and Toriel chose to build their castle and kingdom right on the cusp of the barrier; why, I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps it was meaningful, to them. A sign of having conquered the humans, something to put them at ease. I never asked, it never seemed appropriate."

"Although many monsters seemed disappointed that there was nowhere else to go, I found a sense of satisfaction from it. We had discovered everything; there was nothing else that might creep out from the shadows. We had an understanding of the world we now lived in, a map from top to bottom, left to right. And now, all we had to do was reshape it into the world we wanted it to be."

"Much of my early life was uneventful. I spent a lot of time in theoretical research, interested in the topics of how and why magic worked, but specifically, the interaction of two magical forces. Why some attacks seemed to be so devastating and others seemed to do no damage at all. A spent a fair amount of years analyzing magic, categorizing it, writing formulae for the so called Stats, for LOVE, EXP, HP, ATK, DEF, INV, et cetera, et cetera. Frankly, the field is incomplete; close enough for most situations, I think, but not perfect. I found it wasteful to continue efforts on it. I believe that the main goal of science is to improve life; if the science cannot be applied to do so, then I do not see the point in continuing it.”

“My studies were broad and varied. Sometimes I’d dip into the health sciences, sometimes I’d dip into architecture. I’d do odd favors for people, look into anything that caught my interest, sometimes even take up tasks for the King himself; ones of minor interest that he didn’t want to bother the Royal Scientist with.”

“But, the focal point of my studies always came back to energy. What could we do with it? How can we harness it? All monsters are made up of energy, of magic, it’s inherent to our souls, the way we express ourselves, even our body is made of magic, turns into magical dust due to a complicated chemical reaction when HP is depleted.”

“This, of course, lead to my most famous accomplishment. The idea of using magic to power things had been around forever, before recorded history. But there was always a mage or monster involved, directly or indirectly powering the thing in question. I sought to cut out the intentional casting of a spell to induce power. After all, this entire Underground was full of ambient magic; from previous spells, simply from Monsters existing; recycled, reused, breathed in and out, baked into food and released again: Why couldn’t the world itself power things?”

“It turned out to be more complicated than expected; failure after failure taught me that it simply wasn’t feasible to use magic without a soul casting it. But, we found another way--and to be fair, it wasn’t exactly an idea so much as exploratory research, but research with very promising results. Promising enough to earn me another scar on my face, heh. Had one of the other scientists not pulled me out of the way, I might have been destroyed by the CORE before the CORE was even a thing.”

“Nonetheless I was far from discouraged. I was actually very ecstatic. Enough so that Asgore had a very hard time calming me down and getting me to explain what had happened and why I had a new crack down my face.”

“I started work on the CORE immediately. Sketching out blueprints and gathering people to start building the skeletal structure of the building while I put together the intricacies of the mechanism that would create and convert pure energy that could be harnessed and used for whatever purposes we desired. It took a very long time, but it’s no doubt one of my greatest creations. Asgore asked me to take up the position of Royal Scientist not long after. I accepted, of course, I wouldn’t think of declining, but it was a very strange thing to me.”

“It wasn’t long after that when the human child arrived. I remember hearing about it, one of the other scientists telling me that Asriel had chosen to keep the child. Keep the child, I had thought, like a pet, like a person would choose to keep a dog or a cat. I thought it frankly ridiculous, but having the human child around brought a new era of hope to the kingdom and, I, ... couldn’t resist being pulled along. I personally thought that the idea of peace between humans and monsters was ridiculous, but it was such a pleasant idea and the people were so happy...”

“Of course, it didn’t last. In a single night, both the human child and Asriel had passed away. The duo had broken through the barrier, only to seal their own deaths. It was a travesty. A whirlwind of horrors, one after another. The devastation, the despair--it was unlike anything I had ever experienced, even when humanity had first sealed us underground. At least then, we had the relief of peace. Now, we had nothing.”

“The King declared war on humanity.”

“It was a dark time.”

“The peaceful life I had was replaced by one of fear and anxiety. I knew what humans were capable of. I lived through it, I wore the mark of their hostility on my skull--and Asgore wanted to willingly throw us back into that over revenge? We wouldn’t survive. There was no way we’d survive. But if there was any chance of giving us any sort of fighting chance, I was going to find it.”

“My research turned from finding ways to make the underground better to combat. Once again, energy proved to be my friend. I revisited old research about LOVE and EXP and ATK and DEF--and wrote up a hypothesis about another state. ITK. Intent to Kill. Unlike LOVE and EXP, which are slowly, solely increasing values, ITK rapidly fluctuates and acts as a modifier on attack. Even a soul with a LOVE of 1 can do an extreme amount of damage if they, in a particular moment, are filled with the desire to kill the one they are striking.”

“Monsters aren’t made for war. In general, monsters aren’t made for hurting each other. It’s one of the many reasons we were slaughtered so mercilessly. So I created a ... weapon. That could circumvent that weakness. The ITK Blasters, as I called them, could take even the smallest ITK and multiply it to do horrific damage.”

“I did other research on the topic as well. How to convert HP into a temporary boost of ATK. With these two advancements...even a monster as relatively weak as I am could be incredibly strong.”

“I wanted to perfect the techniques before I tried teaching them to anyone. But, such things never came to pass. Asgore lost his will to continue seeking war. He knew that he had only declared war in a fit of rage and to give his people hope. So rather than continue killing, he wanted to find a different way to bring everyone hope. He wanted to find a way to break the barrier without anymore bloodshed. He asked me to research the human souls.”

“...”

“I wanted no parts of it. We got into a ... rather nasty fight. I said a lot of things I regret. I called him a coward for bending to the will of his people instead of doing what was right. I told him that any attempt to breach the barrier would result in the complete extinction of our species. I told him that it was his job as king to protect us, not lead us to our death.”

“I was angry and afraid, and I took it out on the wrong monster.”

“It’s about at this point that you really cannot understand my history without a basic understanding of how time flows. I’ll spare you the lecture of multiple timelines and parallel realities, but at the very least, you must understand that the flow of time is... well, it is inherently linear, but, consider it like a... I want to say a Turing Machine. Or perhaps, a VHS Tape. The same segments can be replayed again and again, can be overwritten, can change from iteration to iteration.”

“So the fact that Asgore died in this timeline...and is still alive in the current timeline...it may at first seem contradictory, but it is not, I assure you.”

“Asgore’s death hit the Underground hard. Undyne took over as Queen, but the knowledge that the last remaining member of the Royal Family was gone still loomed over everyone’s heads. Undyne was more determined than Asgore ever was to free the monsters and I felt like there was nothing I could do.”

“So...There was little I did. I was overwhelmed with grief and hatred. I kept at the research. I honed the abilities, again and again and again. I drove myself to exhaustion, I isolated myself. I barely slept and ate. I neglected my duties and while the others understood I was grieving, it eventually got to the point that Queen Undyne delivered the ultimatum that I had to either get my act together or surrender my position as Royal Scientist. I resigned without any argument.”

“Much of the time is a blur. Most of my studies and research done with poor practices and hardly documented. The research that lead to me creating Sans falls into this. I wished to know if...

“Of course, two monsters can create another soul. This much is obvious, monsters reproduce on a regular basis, enough that in the modern day, there’s an ongoing population crisis for monsters that need certain environments. But I wanted to know if ... a monster, could theoretically, singularly donate a portion of their soul and create another living monster out of it.”

“This is probably a piece of research that very much fits the criteria of not stopping to think whether or not I should try to do so.”

“It required extracting part of my soul. Which, to do so without killing the monster, requires a massive power source...luckily, or unluckily, I had the entire CORE at my disposal. So I constructed a machine that could, indeed, extract part of my soul. What resulted was the most painful experience of my life and left me comatose for six months. It’s also the cause of the circular scars in my palms.”

“I hadn’t intended to extract two pieces of my soul, but, it happened, whether through oversight or simply as a matter of how the procedure was carried out. I used the smaller piece to create Sans; intending to keep the larger piece for further study. I destroyed everything used in the experiment afterwards. I felt it was something that no monster should have the power to do.”

“That’s not to say I regret creating them. I don’t, and nothing will ever change that opinion, even knowing some of the terrible things they’ve done in other timelines. But I do regret the methods that lead to their creation.”

“I don’t know why Sans is so weak. And I resisted the urge to try to figure it out. There’s a fine line between a healthy interest in your child’s health and treating them as a science experiment, and I ... wanted to stay as far away as possible from that line. He’s fine the way he is. He doesn’t need to be fixed.”

“That didn’t stop me from using the second piece of my soul to create Papyrus to look after him, though. Or teaching him magic to the best of my ability, even teaching him how to use the Gaster Blasters.”

“Having them...helped. A lot. I won’t say whether I was very good at it, but I enjoyed being a father very much. The grief was still heavy, but I was able to start returning to a somewhat normal life, and even start following what was going on in the Underground again. I learned of Doctor Alphys’s research on the human souls, and though I personally disagreed with it... decided to look into it in Asgore’s honor.”

“My immediate thought was that her ideas about Determination could mesh well with my previous research about soul extraction, albeit with a few modifications--although I had destroyed the equipment I used for the process, I remembered it well enough. So I got to work on a theoretical DT Extractor; but the further I got with it, the more horrified I became.”

“I simply couldn’t tolerate the idea of it. Humans or not, already dead or not--the mere idea of extracting the literal lifeforce out of a soul... No. It was not a process I would condone.”

“I had just finalized my decision to destroy the blueprints when I fell.”

“It was... a laughably simple mistake, really. The CORE is designed to rearrange itself to prevent the wear from the heat from causing too much damage in any one area. The doors pneumatically seal themselves to prevent egress during this time but... I was simply too distracted by the blueprints and I opened the door, and walked through anyways.”

“There were no further safeguards. There was nothing I could do to save myself. It was over before I had a chance.”

“...”

“I don’t regularly talk about my time in the void. Not because doing so bothers me, but because it’s simply... indescribable. When I awoke, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. There was no me, but my consciousness existed. I could see and hear thousands of timelines at once, as if I was standing in an arena, with each and every seat filled with a television playing a different movie. A jumbling mess of information.”

“I have no idea how long I was there for. It was like learning to exist all over again. Step by step. Learning how to move closer to visions of interest. Learning how to seep into those visions. Learning how to block out the immense noise. Learning how to speak without a body. Learning how to see the void. Learning how to construct a body out of it. Learning how to hunt down my timeline.”

“In many ways, it was a rebirth, and with each and every step, I lost more of myself. I lost myself to the aching hole of my soul being missing. I lost my conscience, I lost my heart. I dedicated everything to the endless goal of stitching myself back together again.”

“I learned so much about the reality I live in. How malleable it and time is. I evolved into something grotesque, something that shouldn’t be alive. I gained power that no monster or human should have. Things, and even souls, could be changed at my whim. And yet the one thing I truly wanted seemed to be impossible.”

“I did a lot of terrible things while I was stuck like that. Some were intentional, some less so. Many were reset thanks to Flowey, others will never be fixed.”

“I have Sans to thank for finally helping me to achieve the goal, even if not fully. He built a machine that gathered enough of my soul that... I’m able to manifest my original form and can think clearly once again.”

“Even so... It didn’t change the fact that my soul is still shattered, somehow held together by the tug-of-war between Determination and Void, and that my fall into the Void reset the timeline into a state where I never existed.”

“And that leads us to now. The Gaster you currently speak to exists in a timeline that has made it to the surface, though I’m not particularly fond of being up there and generally hide in my lab in the CORE.”

“Well, I certainly hope you didn’t expect even a rundown of over a thousand years to be short.”

“...Or, were you posing the question to someone other than myself...?”

#let type = answer #Anonymous #let type = headcanon #let type = in character #let form = refused #((Gaster stop talking holy shit

10 notes · View notes

stonylovessteve · 4 years

Text

Creator Reveals

We’ve reached the end of the exchange and that means it’s time to reveal the creators of all our works.

Thank you for putting so much love and effort into Stony Loves Steve 2020, you really made it a great experience. We hope everyone loved it as much as we did!

Giftees, be sure to leave a comment and kudos on your gift if you haven’t already. All our creators worked hard to make this event a success, so show them some love.

You can now post about your work publicly outside of the exchange. Tag it as #stonylovessteve2020 on tumblr and we’ll reblog you. @ us @stonylovessteve on twitter and we’ll retweet you.

Below the cut is the final list of all the works produced for the exchange and the creators.

Love thy neighbor by captainstars for picturecat (616, 2.2k Words)

Neighbors are supposed to come around to borrow a cup of sugar; these ones take Steve’s husband instead.

“So let me get this right, you came here to save me?” He asked.

Steve ducked his head down in a nod.

“But you managed to get captured by my kidnappers?” He added.

Steve paused, and then repeated the motion.

“And somewhere in the midst of all that, they turned you into a cat.” Tony pointed out, like it wasn’t obvious.

Funnel Cakes and Ferris Wheels by jehbehee for muchmoremajestic (MCU AU, 5.4k Words)

Tony takes Steve on a road trip to help him relax before his last exam.

give me something sweet by starkboi for starksnack (MCU, 1.5k Words)

Steve loves baking on his days off, there's just a missing ingredient that's been on his mind lately.

operation: grocery shopping by starksnack for avengersandco (MCU, 6k Words)

Steve, Peter, and Peter's trusty sidekick Mister Dog set off on a quest to check off everything on their grocery list. Will they find everything they need and get rewards from Tony?

Featuring cloud watching, scented markers, and Born This Way by Lady Gaga.

Moon and Stars by DepressingGreenie for march_hyde (MCU, 2.6k Words)

Steve and Tony spend the full moon at their cabin in the woods.

there's no place i'd rather be, without you beside me by ircnshield for starkboi (MCU, 10.5k Words)

“I don’t think he wants you to leave,” Natasha jokes from the couch.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Tony says as he bends down to scratch behind the dog's ear. “Look, buddy, I’ll give you a treat if you stop looking at me like that and let me go down to my lab.”

Dodger, seemingly unimpressed, walks closer towards Tony’s shoes, turns his body around, and simply drops his body on top of them.

Turn a Little Faster by Ishipallthings for b0n3l3ssm1lk (AA, 5.4K Words)

Tony and Natasha pose as a couple for an undercover mission. Steve doesn’t find this distracting. Not at all.

And yet, it all goes downhill from there.

(5 times Steve is distracted thinking of Tony, and 1 time Tony distracts Steve on purpose.)

Taking chances by hundredthousands for shcrlockholmcs (MCU, Comic)

Tony can’t resist it when Steve gets like this, and he’s feeling a tad uninhibited tonight.

say my prayers by farawatt for jayjayverse (616, 3.3k Words)

Steve gets into the motel at a quarter past nine in the morning.

You've Got That Power Over Me by stevesnarkrogers for alexcat (MCU, 8k Words + Fanvid)

“Pull it together, Stark,” Tony muttered to himself.

Steve’s chest ached at the sound of Tony’s voice. God, he missed him. He wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in his arms and see if they could—no. YOU pull it together, Rogers. You’re here to help Tony, not yourself. Eyes up, soldier.

Net of Wonder by hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes) for Syan (MCU, 2.4k Words)

"You can't control me." Then Tony whips his tail again to turn away from his father.

"You swim out that door and I'm planning your wedding and coronation myself."

Tony stills. He swallows down the way the oppression tries to pound him flat. But there's no avoiding the inevitable. He looks over his shoulder to glare at Howard. "Be my guest. It's not like you ever would have listened to me anyway."

Tony isn't expecting an apprentice when he goes to meet with Yinsen after a blowout fight with her dad, but he finds all that and more in Steve Rogers. Steve gives Tony everything he needs while Tony runs from his future, never knowing that their futures might be more entwined than they'd realized.

diastolic pressure (in between heartbeats) by firebrands for betheflame (MCU, 8k Words)

For flame, who gave the prompt "Steve and Tony have been fake dating for a while, but everyone else thinks they're *really* in love. When a mission goes terribly and Tony is presumed dead, Steve realizes he's in love with Tony and Dramatic Shenanigans Ensue."

Same Difference. by Perlmutt for Huntress79 (MCU AU, 5k Words)

Tony and Steve are the successful heads of two different divisions of SHIELD IT Security and are the walking wet dreams of all ladies in the company. Tony Stark is the elegant genius with his dark humor while the newcomer Steve Rogers is known for his gentlemanly behaviour and kindness. On the surface the two men are rivals. But there's more to it than meets the eye...

Canteen food is horrible, the intern is chaotic, and Tony goes toe-to-toe with a hyena to rescue the princess who doesn't need to be rescued...

Why Need a Thousand Words? I Prefer a Picture Instead by march_hyde for Neverever (MCU, 4k Words + Art)

Steve is struggling with a project for Tony, not that he knows of it. So of course Tony finds out and has to help out with whatever he can do.

Operation Check Yes or No by avengersandco for hundredthousands (MCU, 2.7k Words)

Steve just wants Tony to notice him, but he’s not sure how. Lucky for him, his friends help him make a plan to capture the attention of the one he wants.

When I Look At You by Syan for AvengersNewB (MCU, Comic)

Steve is always looking at Tony in very meaningful ways... Or very embarrassed ways, depending on the situation~

for god's sake, dear (just say yes). by frostfall for captainmistyknight (vicspeaks) (AA, 10.8k Words)

Ever since they’ve met, Steve has been in love with Tony Stark. So when Tony makes a marriage pact with him, he jumps at the offer, thinking that’s the only way he could have Tony.

Fast forward five years, and Steve is ready to pop the question to Tony, with hopes that maybe, just maybe, Tony feels the same.

That is, until he meets Carol Danvers, who just so happens to be dating Tony.

Honey, Keep the Sugar, You’re Enough for Me by Shamen610 for avengersincamphalfbloodstardis (MCU, 1.6k Words)

"I want you to draw me like one of your french girls." Tony had said, the very first time he had walked through his door.

Steve, who had been carrying a bag full of paints and a canvas under his arm, had barely been able to keep everything under wraps upon hearing the bold words.

Steve doesn't actually have a Sugar Daddy, no matter what Bucky says.

Lullaby by alexcat for XtaticPearl (MCU, 1.9k Words)

Steve has nightmares and Tony helps.

Achromatic by captainmistyknight (vicspeaks) for firebrands (Marvel Noir, 2.8k Words)

"Steve’s life ended the moment he was born, according to the doctor’s at least. Of course, it took them awhile to figure it out, but when he was three years old, his Ma realized that on top of all the other issues he had to deal with, his eyes weren’t responding properly to light. She took him to the doctors to get tested, and they spoke his doom.

He was permanently colorblind. An achromat. He’d never know love."

A story of growing up, misunderstandings, and love in the jungle.

Easing Into Us by HogwartsToAlexandria for wingheads (MCU, 4.9k Words)

No matter how much he's tried, Steve could never find the right moment to tell Tony, to come out to him in a setting that'd be both private and allow him to flee if it didn't go as well as he hoped it would.

Until some jerk at the bar decided that Tony being an out and proud trans man was reason enough to pick up a fight. And Steve couldn't stand by and watch it happen.

Tony didn't much like that. At first. Ask him again tomorrow.

Bring Me His Heart by jellybeanforest for firelightmystic (MCU, 6.3k words)

Steve Rogers, infamous cat burglar, is hired by Tony’s business rival and ex-girlfriend, Sunset Bain, to carry out a little corporate espionage, namely to steal the original arc reactor prototype Stark had surgically removed from his chest.

Steve does steal his heart, but perhaps not in the way his employer had envisioned.

Or:

Tony interrupts Steve mid-heist in his penthouse and assumes he is the escort he hired for the night; Steve doesn’t correct him.

Memories of Us by muchmoremajestic for QueenE (MCU, 3.5k words)

An examination of three objects in retrospect as part of a scrapbook for a birthday gift for Steve.

Graphic Design is my Passion by zappedbysnow for talesofsuspense (Marvel, Comic)

Tony was about to have lunch when he saw someone he didn't want to run into inside the restaurant. He quickly backed away and snuck into a cafe nearby, plunking his ass onto a chair shielded by a wall, which just happened to be Steve Roger's art class.

Steve is an artist who does commercial work and draws comics. He spends his weekends teaching a drawing class for free at a local cafe. He doesn't recognize the guy who snuck into his class in a suit that looks like it costs more than his month's rent but he looks stressed and like he's running from someone. He can let this one slide. And no. It's not because the man looks damn fine. He's just a sympathetic guy.

The Love of Every Single One of My Lives by jellybeanforest for farawatt (616, 10.3k words)

Tony loves Steve, and he will always love him no matter how many times he has to bury the man before he gets it right.

Priceless by njava97 for kesktoon04 (MCU, 9.3k words)

Steve Rogers feels like he’s finally gotten the hang of this waking up in the future thing. He’s been dating Tony Stark for 6 months now and it's been going surprisingly well. But when an extravagant anniversary present brings up bad memories and a mission goes sideways, Steve is forced to confront the fact that maybe the first step to letting go of the past involves letting people in. Or: Steve Rogers has a series of epiphanies in a hospital bed, expresses a couple of emotions, talks about his problems and gets all the love he deserves.

AKA my love letter to Steve Rogers.

Ouanga by fundamentalBlue for venusiaries (MCU, 7.7k words)

Steve wakes up to the sound of screaming.

Take a Hand by RoseRose for HogwartsToAlexandria (MCU, 3.4k words)

Steve is single, alone, and about to give birth.

Fortunately, Tony is an amazing nurse.

Falling in Love at the All Day Cafe by betheflame for BladeoftheNebula (MCU, 3.9k words)

One of the things about the particular block they lived on was that at the corner was, quite possibly, the world’s best bakery. It was Zagat rated and everything, so it wasn’t just Tony that felt that way. People flew in from all over the world to eat at All Day Cafe - Tony had bumped into Gwenyth Paltrow a few months ago and thought it was his best friend, Pepper, and that was awkward - and their pastries were no joke.

Run by Olympic Gold Medalist Steve Rogers, the cafe specialized in classic French pastries with American twists - like a pain au chocolat that also came encrusted in pistachios - and routinely sold out of their daily specials within two hours of opening. Peter, in particular, loved their peanut butter cookies that the baker swore was nothing special but Tony was wondering if they’d laced it with kiddie cocaine or something.

Tony, in particular, loved going to stare at the owner.

That’s What You Get (for waking up in Vegas) by bon3l3ssm1lk for JehBeeEh (MCU, 1.3k words)

A dimly lit bar blasting dance music. A rugged man making conversation. A third round of beers, courtesy of the man. A fourth, fifth, and sixth round.

Steve couldn't remember much else.

laughing in bed by wingheads for RoseRose (MCU, Art)

prompt: sex with laughter

James & Barnaby by Wikketkrikket for mariana_oconnor (MCU AU, 16.7k Words)

Steve Rogers has medical debt so ridiculous that if he doesn't do something about it, his mother will be out on the street. He swallows his pride and agrees to a 'charity marriage' with the elusive son of Howard Stark, so Howard can show off how wealthy and generous they are. Maybe it would have worked, too, if he hadn't then met the love the love of his life on his last night of freedom.

Still (Until you moved me) by GuiltyFan21 for maythecat12 (MCU, 2k Words)

Steve hates it in the 21st century, where everything is so different. Life's a mess, the only constant thing being SHIELD coming to check on him. Until he meets Tony Stark, a brilliant genius who makes him feel more human.

The Icing on the Cake by BladeoftheNebula for Lacrimula_Falsa (MCU AU, 2.8k Words)

Steve’s a bit low on cash this month, so he figures making a bit extra by jumping out of a cake couldn’t hurt.

If only someone had told the birthday boy that.

The Next Life by Sheron for hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes) (MCU, 2.5k Words)

Eventually Tony had said: listen, I own an island, let's go.

artwork and email by ohjustpeachy for njava97 (MCU AU, 6.7k Words)

Tony makes a donation to Art Reach, a non-profit, never expecting to get such a kind thank you note in response. He certainly never thought he'd find himself excited to look in his inbox every day, eager for a new message from the foundation's director, Steve Rogers, but here he is. Or, Tony falls for smol Steve over a bunch of emails and everyone knows it but him.

Hug n' Fly by talesofsuspense for rebeccakbaa (616, Art)

Iron Man flies Steve back to the mansion after he loses the serum.

who's that? by venusiaries for Perlmutt (MCU AU, Art)

Quarterback Steve Rogers meets the love of his life in the hallway.

Closer Than Together by shcrlockholmcs for ircnshield (MCU, 5.6k words)

The annual Stark Industries Gala is coming up and Steve wants to ask Tony. But his efforts are of no avail and they both end up going alone. How can Steve stand by and watch everyone else take a bite out of the man he has feelings for?

Brooklyn Life by ashes0909 for himbos (MCU, 1.6 words)

Steve mentally followed his boyfriend's path across the bedroom and down the stairs into the living room

“Oh that fucking--!” Tony cried before he’d even made it past the couch. “Steve!

Objectively Perfect by AvengersnewB for Wikketkrikket (MCU, 2k words)

Going on an objectively perfect, but absolutely horrible date might be the last sign Steve needs to finally talk to the guy he actually wants to be on a date with, so desperately.

(Spoiler: The guy is Tony)

Instinctual by mariana_oconnor for DepressingGreenie (MCU, 17k words)

The true effects of the super soldier serum are top secret. Only a few people know the truth - the serum turned Steve Rogers into a werewolf. Steve still hasn't found a way to tell Tony, even though they've been in a relationship for months. He can't bring himself to explain that he's a monster.

But when they are clearing out an AIM base, that decision is taken out of his hands.

Could Never Resist a Man with Facial Hair by kenshincha for zappedbysnow (MCU, 1.5k words)

The team is tired of Steve and Tony pining for each other. They decide to do something about it.

A timely revelation by frosted_astronaut for captainstars (MCU/1872, 2.3k words + Moodboard)

Sheriff Rogers is in love with Tony Stark, the blacksmith. However, he denies it even in front of himself, until it's time for him to realize that he can't live in a lie forever.

Central (Jurassic) Park & More by cccoffee for nanasekei (MCU, Art)

A collection of art pieces for Stony Loves Steve 2020!

Something Fell From the Sky by jayjayverse for Shamen610 (616, Art)

When Tony is missing in action. Steve starts looking for him right away and when he finally finds him, it's nothing like he thought it would be.

-The art is really explicit so take care :)

I'll Catch You (If You Fall) by maythecat12 for ishipallthings (MCU AU, 10.4k Words)

New York: an artist and a superhero, an accident, and getting back together.

Just One Of Those Nights (The SLS Remix) by Firelightmystic for jellybeanforest (MCU, 6.4k Words)

Natasha's been angling to set Steve up on a date for a while now...

In Your Wildest Dreams by Neverever for cccoffee (AA, 3.4k Words)

The Guardians ask the Avengers to pick some flowers. What could go wrong with that?

Breath of a Fish by picturecat for sheron (AA, 4.9k Words)

Their relationship was courteous, as it must be for any two witches who had no interest in feuding with one another properly. But to someone he could trust not to repeat his words, Steve often complained that Stark was basically a warlock, the way he carried on with esoteric nonsense and ignoring the needs of the people. For his part, Steve had no idea what Stark’s objection to him was. He knew only that the man so obviously delighted in teasing Steve that the people of their town regularly placed bets on when they expected them to come to blows.

The Ballad of Nomad by himbos for GuiltyFan21 (MCU AU, 3.1k Words)

Set in the Old West, Steve Rogers, who moonlights as the vigilante Nomad, and his lover, Tony Stark, make a stop in the town of Extremis. Little did they know, trouble awaited.

How To Woo A Living Legend (by Anthony Stark) by Huntress79 for stevesnarkrogers (MCU, 1.5k Words)

Past the fight against the Chitauri, Tony finally finds the courage to act on his long-harbored feelings for a certain Captain. But he never, ever would have expected that the “Tactical Genius of the Century” could be this blind in regards to Tony’s attempts.

Take a number by jellybeanforest for kenshincha (MCU, 7.2k Words)

Since an unforgettable one-night stand a few years prior, alpha Steve Rogers has pined after infamously-promiscuous omega Tony Stark. He may not have much money, but he has scrimped and saved for the past couple years, determined to declare his intentions by getting the man the best courting gift he can afford, something to distinguish himself from the dozens of more well-heeled suitors gunning for the heart of the elusive billionaire.

All-American Cupcake by One and Five Nines (Obani) for frostfall (MCU, Comic)

“You’re a jackass sometimes, Steve. I’ve seen you get into a fistfight with three guys at once, but you can’t even TALK to the guy you’ve been in love with since we opened.”

#stonylovessteve2020 #Steve Rogers #stony #stevetony #superhusbands

94 notes · View notes

that-one-girl-behind-you · 3 years

Text

Illicio 17/?

Part 16

CW for: -self harm -mentions (implications) of police brutality -whatever the hell kind of self hatred Tim has going on

"Daisy, you're dying."

"I know. I've known for a while." Daisy's too-bony hand comes to rest against Basira's cheek, and she almost flinches at how cold it feels. "I thought you knew too."

"I'm- I was looking for a way to stop it. I thought you wanted to stop it!" It takes everything in her to not shake Daisy up, because this sounds like- "I didn't know you'd just given up."

"I haven't. I win, like this. I die as myself." Daisy gives her a weak smile. -everything in her looks weak, and Basira wants to scream.

Getting Daisy back was already not a part of the plan, but losing her again is- "Dying is not winning, Daisy."

XVII

"That was a nasty one," Gerry says, running a hand through his hair a couple times. An understandable reaction, given that the floorboards of the attic they were trying to bust open to reach the Corruption book ended up collapsing on him in a shower of termites.

Still, Melanie rolls her eyes, and her lips curl into a smirk as she comes to bump his arm with her shoulder. "No creepy crawlies, you're still pretty."

"Well, obviously." Gerry flips his hair back into place, and Melanie tugs on it, when a couple locks whip -on purpose, she's sure- against her face. "Whose turn is it to pick dinner?"

"You don't even need to eat!" Melanie groans, which is a pretty solid response to his question.

"It's about the bonding, firecracker." Gerry's voice is a slow, conciliatory tone carefully designed to rile her up, she knows from his teasing grin. "The human experience."

Melanie blinks. He blinks back.

"You're not hum-"

"What's that food your girlfriend loves and you hate?" He speaks over her, and she laughs. Definitely not her standard response to men interrupting her, but she'll let this one slip, she decides. "Hungarian? Yes. That's what I'm craving."

"You're an asshole, did you know that?"

They don't get Hungarian, in the end.

Instead, they stop by an ice-cream shop, which Melanie thinks is oddly fitting. It's what they got the first time they went out together; it only makes sense it's what they get on their last.

"You're quiet." Gerry sits next to her as she digs into her pint of caramel. She barely even gives him a glance, scrolling through pictures of herself and Georgie in her phone. "Are you okay?"

"I talked to Georgie," Melanie blurts out, because tact has never been her strong suit.

"...Oh." Gerry's heavy hand comes to rest at her shoulder, and Melanie reflects for a second on how casually he touches her, and how comfortable she is with it. "Uh- everything alright?"

She scoops another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. It's- as alright as it's ever going to get, she supposes. Georgie didn't like it, but she understood. She even offered to do it, but Melanie didn't want that to be something she associated with her.

Gerry's hand squeezes her shoulder, and she turns to look at him. He looks... incredibly dumb, looking at her with concern in his eyes and his mouth stained red, his cheek still stained with soot from the book they just burned.

This is- it's the face of a friend. One she made herself, all her own.

"You look like an extra in a cheap vampire movie." She smiles. It feels a bit weaker than she meant it, but... but she's maybe feeling a bit smaller than she planned. And maybe that's not a bad thing, to ask for help. To let herself be helped. "It'll be alright."

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

Basira's not blind to how Hunt-like her connection to the Eye is. She doesn't like it, but it's fitting, she thinks grimly as the trail before her lights up in a warm yellow hue that reminds her of her favorite hijab, of the smell of freshly baked bread, of the soft sandy hue of Daisy's hair.

Daisy's been hiding a lot lately, but it's of no use; Basira could find her at the end of the world if needed, even without- she hesitates calling them 'powers', because that feels like giving in, like accepting this metamorphosis that has been thrust upon her without so much as a by your leave. Still, they are there and they are hers, and she can follow the trail down into the tunnels, and around a couple bends.

It leads straight into a dead end, where Daisy sits balled up against a corner, like a sickly dog that crawled down here to die. She looks... small. Emaciated even, Basira's old t-shirt hanging loosely off of shoulders that used to be tight with well-marked muscle.

Basira stiffens when the Knowledge slams into her, clenching her fists by her sides. She won't be scared, she won't give it the satisfaction.

"You're dying." The truth slips easily past her lips, and Basira hates it, hates it like the world that gave her Daisy only to tear them apart again and again.

It takes a moment, but Daisy stirs and sits up to look at her with bloodshot eyes. "I have been for a while already. It's alright."

"It's not." Basira steps forward, coming to crouch before her. "I thought signing the contract had helped?"

"It slowed it down." Daisy leans back on the wall, her head dropping against her shoulder like her neck isn't strong enough to hold it. "But it would never have stopped it, I'm- I'm not you, or Jon. Beholding was never for me."

Basira crouches before her, and her shoulders feel even thinner than they looked, when she lays her hands on them. "Then you have to hunt."

Daisy's warm brown eyes fix on her, and Basira can read her next words in the slight furrow of her brow.

"I don't want to."

"Daisy, you're dying."

"I know. I've known for a while." Daisy's too-bony hand comes to rest against Basira's cheek, and she almost flinches at how cold it feels. "I thought you knew too."

"I'm- I was looking for a way to stop it. I thought you wanted to stop it!" It takes everything in her to not shake Daisy up, because this sounds like- "I didn't know you'd just given up."

"I haven't. I win, like this. I die as myself." Daisy gives her a weak smile. -everything in her looks weak, and Basira wants to scream.

Getting Daisy back was already not a part of the plan, but losing her again is- "Dying is not winning, Daisy."

"Isn't it what I deserve, though?"

"What?"

"You know," Daisy says, and Basira isn't sure whether or not she means it as Capital 'K' know, but she knows perfectly well what she's referring to.

"That wasn't yo-"

"Don't say that. Don't- don't try to make me a victim, Basira I- I hurt people. I wanted to. The Hunt only gave me the tools, but-"

"Well, I knew." Basira snaps. "I knew all that time, and I didn't do anything. Doesn't that mean I'm just as bad?!"

Daisy's warm, brown eyes pin her in place, full of love and resignation in equal measure. "Well... yes."

And maybe she's right, Basira thinks. Maybe this is penance, for all the bad they've done. Maybe they're just lucky it took so long to catch up to them.

"I'm- no. Fuck that." She grits her teeth. "You- you can spend the rest of your life paying for it, but you can't die. How is this justice? How-"

"It's not meant to be fair, I think." Daisy grunts a little as she sits up straighter. "But I get to die as myself. Not- not the thing I chose to be, the thing I let hurt so many people. I get to die choosing not to hurt anyon-"

"Well- hunt monsters then! Pay it back stopping them, don't-" Basira stops abruptly, when she feels her throat tighten. If she keeps talking, her voice will break, and she doesn't want-

She'd been so angry at Jon for feeding, but here she is begging Daisy to do the same like a hypocrite. Isn't that what has always boiled down to? Her morals unshakeable, until they come to this woman?

"Basira." Daisy pulls her down delicately, and Basira comes. "I want it this way."

"Don't hide from me," Basira whispers into her hair, holding her close to her chest.

"I didn't want you to see me like this."

"I will find you. Always."

"I know." Daisy chuckles. Basira is aware this is the slightest bit selfish. Daisy won't die in her arms, so maybe as long as she never lets go... "I'm sorry."

"Don't." Basira squeezes her harder. "I'm- I get it. But I don't have to like it."

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

"Are you sure you want this?" Gerry asks for what feels like the umpteenth time, and he's more than aware that he's doing it only to buy himself more time.

The entire scene is almost too relaxed; the two of them sitting on the floor next to Melanie's cot -a monstrosity of pillows and quilt that Gerry's willing to bet hosts at least one or two knives-, a tub of half-demolished caramel ice cream between them. Just two friends having a chat.

Gerry's life has never been that simple, sadly. The awl sits deceptively light on his hand, belying the weight of the request.

"I do. It's- I want out. Of the Institute, at least." Melanie's knuckles whiten as her fists clench over the dark fabric of her jeans. "If I'm going to keep helping, then I want it to be my choice."

"If you do this, I'd much rather you stay out of this for good." Gerry's voice is dry, because if he lets any emotion in it, it will probably be despair.

"That's nice, but you don't tell me what to do." Melanie shakes her head with a roll of her eyes. "Besides, you're going to need someone who's free of all this, if the Eye won't let us look into your boyfriend's marks."

"Melanie-"

Her grim smile is determined, and Gerry feels a fierce rush of protectiveness burn in his chest. For a moment he misses the dull pain of his existence in the skin book, because at least back then that was all he could feel.

It was a stupid oversight on his part, to think he would ever get to have something normal. Something for him, untainted by the world he was born in.

"Well... alright, then."

There's disbelief and gratefulness in Melanie's eyes, like she recognizes the hesitation was for himself, and not a way to try and change her mind.

"You'll do it?"

"What are friends for?" Gerry's smile feels stiff and foreign in his face. "Gouge your eyes out, call you an ambulance right after."

"Your typical sleepover." The edges of Melanie's grin are strained. For the briefest of moments, he thinks she might hug him. She doesn't, and he's both relieved and disappointed. Is their friendship even theirs, if it was born out of hatred for these things that took their will away? "Should I lay down?"

"...I guess so, yes." He sighs. "Don't you want to finish the ice cream?"

"Not really." Determination or not, Melanie's starting to look a bit green. "I'm... okay, let's do it."

She turns around so her back is facing him, before laying down so her head rests on his crossed calves. It's... Gerry had never considered her eyes, but now it's all he can pay attention to. Almond-shaped and perfectly contoured with eyeliner, her irises a darker brown than Jon's, so deep it's almost black.

They're good eyes; they've kept watch for him during their hunts, caught sight of monsters just on the nick of time. They watched over him while Jon was in the Buried. The eyes of a friend.

She deserves this, the choice, the freedom; he won't keep them from her, not even for his own peace of mind.

How does one go about destroying someone's eyes permanently? Just jam it in and swirl it around, try to cause as much damage as possible? The Beholding is of course not volunteering any tips; instead showing him in excruciating clarity the agony it will provoke.

He sees it like a movie, like a nightmare; Melanie screaming, her blood dripping down his hands. Is this how his father felt, did he try to fight the Watcher with thoughts of his infant son?

'No,' the Eye whispers in his mind. 'This is what your mother saw, when your father laid to sleep for the last time. Trusting, loving. Like her.'

The awl drops from his shaky hands, missing her face by mere inches as Gerry throws himself back.

"Melanie, I can't."

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

"Been a while since I've been here" Tim mumbles, giving a look around the office.

It becomes clear to Jon then that he's not the only one that's nervous, although he can't for the life of him figure out why Tim would be.

Why is he nervous, even? Does he fear Tim's barbed jabs or the dull ache of guilt? Or is it just that Tim is a loose cannon, an open flame in the Archives that- oh. Of course.

"The Eye doesn't want you here." Jon smiles tiredly as he says it, and to both his surprise and relief, Tim mirrors the gesture.

"That's just mean. It was so adamant on not letting me go before..." Tim taps his fingers in the desk, leaving little scorched marks on the wood after every touch. "Well, it's going to have to suck it up."

Jon nods. "A pity. I suppose there is a reason you're here, though."

"You know? It used to make me mad, when you did that." Tim shrugs. "Well, everything you did made me mad, but that most of all."

"The..." Jon lets the word hang in the air, arching an eyebrow.

Tim scoffs. A puff of white vapor erupts from his lips and dissipates towards the ceiling.

"The whole 'not asking questions' thing." He doesn't look at Jon as he says it, and Jon tries to focus on something that is not him, because if Tim wants to tell him this, he deserves not having it revealed beforehand. He ends up Knowing the names of every single carpenter that worked on making his desk, but at least it takes long enough for Tim to gather his thoughts. "It felt- it was a reminder of what you had become. What we were all becoming."

Jon frowns, confused. "You weren't an avatar of the Desolation back-"

"Are we sure of that? I'm- I had been- I wanted destruction since long before the Unknowing. Elias', the Archives'-" Tim's eyes meet his, and it's only then that Jon realizes how long it's been since that has happened. They're their usual dark brown, no dangerous orange glow, thankfully. Jon has- he's missed them. "Yours."

"Ah." Jon sighs. This is how it is now, isn't it? How it's always going to be.

"Yeah."

Silence falls over them again, heavy like a wet towel. Jon doesn't ask why Tim is here again; he's aware enough to recognize the diverting from before, and where it brought them.

"I'm- thank you for-" Jon starts, stops, clears his throat. "You know. Gerry. The hunters. Watching out for him when Melanie's not around."

Tim looks about as uncomfortable as Jon feels, so at least they're on equal -if uneven- footing.

"It's- Martin wanted me to." Tim crosses his arms over his chest, averting his gaze. "What- is that a thing? Those two?"

Jon sighs. "Martin is this close to becoming a Lonely avatar, Tim." Who said Tim was the only one who knew how to divert from uncomfortable lines of questioning?

Tim's face whips back to him at that, scowling fiercely. "He is, isn't he? Why is that? Why the fuck didn't you stop that when it started happening, Jon?"

"I tried my best, but I was in a comma," Jon says dryly, his words followed by a tense, thick silence.

The snort that escapes Tim's lips surprises Jon as much as it does Tim himself, apparently. "Nice to know I did fuck you up."

"For a while, yes." Jon shakes his head a little, the corner of his lips curling up in a resigned smile. "I'm- I suppose Martin hasn't told you, then."

"I suppose not," Tim repeats in an affected mockery of his voice. It's something he used to do before, Jon realizes with a start. "About what?"

And really, it feels like a pity to weigh down the first civil conversation they've had in two years by bringing it up, but it's- Tim has a right to know. He deserves it.

"About the Extinction."

"Hm. Was that meant to sound as ominous as it did?" Tim arches an eyebrow, and Jon shrugs.

"I mean, it is called the Extinction; I doubt there's any way to give that title any levity." Jon sighs. This too feels like before, and it hurts just as much as the hostility. Maybe more. "Peter Lukas believes it's a fifteenth entity in the process of forming. The fear of humanity towards eradication at our own hands, towards dying out as a species, rather than individuals. The realization that we have brought on our own demise, and it's too late to change it now."

"And is it?"

"...Excuse me?" Jon frowns.

"Well, yes. If anyone could know, wouldn't that be you?" Tim asks again.

Oh. Right, of course.

Jon sighs. "It has been brought to my attention recently that there are some things the Beholder won't tell me about."

"Like your marks?"

"I'm- how do you know about that?" Jon frowns. Just how many people know about this thing the Eye is so adamant on not letting him see?

"I asked Martin about your safeword when he asked me to stick with your boyfriend." Tim shrugs. "Then I just did a quick head count. You're just missing one, aren't you?"

"The Lonely, yes."

"How convenient isn't it? Martin's sudden promotion." Tim mutters to himself, and Jon purses his lips.

"I'm well aware it's my fault, Tim, thank you."

Tim neither confirms nor denies it. He fidgets with his hands a little, squeezing his pinky finger flat between the pointer and thumb of his free hand, then rolling it back into shape.

"So he's trying to get information?" He asks quietly after a couple minutes.

"I- at first." Jon sighs. Isn't this the truth he's been trying to ignore for the past months, even though he Knows it's irrefutable? "It has him now, though. He- he just needs to choose."

"I hope you're right."

"Hm?" Jon looks up, but Tim's still not looking at him, instead focused on the scorch marks on the desk.

"If he can choose, he will choose you." When Tim's eyes raise to him, there's the slightest spark of orange in their depths.

"I'm- Tim, I don't know if that's an option anymore." The thought has been on his mind for weeks now, since Martin turned him away.

"He always finds a way to choose you, anyways."

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

"That's- that's something." Melanie exhales softly through her parted lips. They're back to leaning on her cot, and she's pressed tight to Gerry's side; not holding him by any means, but close enough that she can feel it when his breathing finally starts slowing down. "I didn't know."

It rains on her then just how painfully little she knows about him. They know each other like penitent ghosts, no past and no future, just a present, and a sum of festering wounds far too painful to look at.

Gerry's startled cackle is dry and pained, and it draws Melanie out of her contemplations. "I think that's the point."

"I-"

"I'm sorry I couldn't do it." He lets his head fall back against the cot, groaning. "I'm not being very useful lately."

It's a very stupid thought, but it does sound like something Gerry would believe of himself. Lives his entire life trying to save people from the entities, gets right back into it as soon as he's raised from the dead. Melanie sort of knew already that he measured his value on how much he could help others, but this is a very clear indicator.

Melanie sighs. "Don't. It's- I just wanted it to be you because- I trust you, I guess." She turns her head, even though Gerry's not looking at her.

"I- thank you, firecracker." It's such a dumb nickname, but it feels so different from stupid, stupid Mel. "Should- I can call Helen, if you want?"

"It's alright. I don't think she liked that I'm quitting; she seemed a bit sad when I told her. I'll- I'll do it myself." The awl feels foreign in her shaky hand, but she grips it firmly. "You should get out, probably."

He lets out a long exhale, almost sagging against her side. "I'm- I'll stay," he says in the end.

"Are you sure? I'll- you can just go outside and call the ambulance after."

"No." Gerry brings a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "No, I- I prefer to stay. In case you need help."

"Yeah, that's- I might." Melanie takes a deep, wet breath to calm her speeding heart. He doesn't respond. When she looks at him out the corner of her eye, he's staring straight ahead, his lips pressed white in a thin line and a muscle twitching at his jaw. "Thank you."

A large, warm hand comes to wrap itself around her free one, and Melanie squeezes back as hard as she can. She's as afraid of the pain as she is of the prospect of freedom, but this at least is her choice, not Elias' trickery, not something feeding on her to turn her into something else. She won't be anyone's pawn anymore.

She thinks of the Admiral's orange fur. The bright yellow of Helen's door. Gerry's stupid lovesick faces. The curve of Georgie's lips when she smiles, and the dimple on her right cheek.

Melanie strikes.

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

Truth is, Tim should've left a while ago, after he got the confirmation he was looking for. That Martin isn't just another victim, that his efforts to bring him back haven't worked not because Tim himself isn't enough, but because Martin has a reason and a purpose to stay Lonely.

That said purpose isn't just the undeserving idiot before him.

It's- the familiarity's the worst part, in his opinion. Tim's stomach still burns whenever he looks at Jon and he's able to tell what he's thinking of just by the furrowing of his brow.

It reminds him of stolen glances and hugs that lingered for just a second too long. Of dragging his new boss out of the Archives for a drink, just like he dragged him out of Research every Friday. Of reluctant smiles and bitten off chuckles after Tim's jokes. Of being asked to check on a statement and knowing immediately that Jon was nervous, and that he would do whatever it took to assuage it.

"Jon?" He asks, and the way the name rolls out of his mouth leaves behind an aftertastes of bitter ashes. "Could I have found Oliver Banks?"

The green glow starts slowly, just a spark of neon in the depths of Jon's dark eyes, burning brighter and brighter until it's taken over his gaze completely.

"I- no. There- there were a lot of threads pulling you away from any real information about him." Jon sighs. He closes his eyes and rests his elbows on the desk, rubbing at his temples. "It makes sense, I suppose."

It does. Tim doesn't hold any love in his heart for the Desolation, but the fact that it has loosened the Spider's grip on him is most definitely something to be thankful for. It's ridiculous, that they live the kind of lives in which they have to be thankful for an entity at least being upfront about consuming their very being.

He... he often wonders if it might have been different, had he managed to find him. If they would've at least had a chance with some more information before everything went to shit. If maybe he's not as much to blame as-

"You aren't." Jon's voice pours over him like cold water over a fire, so abrupt that Tim flinches before looking back at him, and finding the green eyes fixed to his face with almost eerie focus.

It takes him a moment to figure out just what the hell he's walking about, and when he finally does Tim knows he should be enraged at the violation, but all he can bring himself to feel is exhaustion.

"I didn't know you could do that," he says, and every word bears the weight of the past four years.

"I'm sorry," Jon responds. Tim believes him. It doesn't matter. It hasn't mattered for a while.

The Desolation feeds on sorrow and loss as much as it does on rage, and there's plenty of both to go around in this office.

"I- Jon?" Tim frowns. Jon's warm brown skin has gone ashen, the scars in stark contrast to it. His eyes are still green and focused on something Tim can't see, and his entire frame shakes, his knuckles white around the edge of the desk. "Jon what-"

"Melanie, it's- she's-" Jon flinches and curls into himself, his face contorted into a rictus of pain that has Tim's stomach churning. "You have to go-" Jon's voice is strained now, like every word is being ripped out of him.

"Jon-" Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The lights in the office are flickering and Tim feels watched by a hundred thousand eyes, here in this place that despises him for coming back after he served his purpose. Static sings in the air around them, and Tim may not have the Sight for these things, but he can recognize an avatar about to lose control. What's- what's that shit he and Daisy tell each other? What- "Jon, the- listen to the quiet, listen to-"

A lightning-sharp pain pierces into his brain-

Danny's on the armchair- no, not him- was there ever really a Danny? And if so, isn't this him? Why are you so scared, Tim? It's just your little brother, aren't you just thrilled to see him?! Look at how well his skin fits him!

Look at how wide he's smiling -don't try to count his teeth-, he's just so happy to have you back! Why didn't you go see his performance at the theater? He was so excited to introduce you to all of his new friends, to show you just how it felt when his skin burst open at the seams-

Jon's eyes are lit up like searchlights now, no pupil and no sclera, just green fire at their depths, and the depths of all the other eyes boiling open like blisters along his arms, his neck, his cheeks.

"What are you doing? Cut it out!"

Jon opens his mouth, but it's the Archivist's voice that comes out.

"Isn't she beautiful? You've thought so from the time you first laid eyes on her. Her smiling lips, her knowing eyes, her face that fits just well on her skull. Her long, long, long fingers on your scalp as you tell her of all that makes you afraid, all that makes you Tim.

You love her in any and all ways she'll let you, what does she look like? What does she sound like? It surely doesn't matter as much as the fact that she loves you back, doesn't it? She lets you stay by her side, she listens to your woes, your suspicions. You mention the circus and she nods in understanding, but in her mind she's laughing, laughing, laughing. Do you hear it? Do you feel the caress of too long fingers as you lay your head on her chest? She was thinking of taking your skin nex-"

The door flies open, and Tim throws himself over the desk to keep Jon's eyes -all of them- on him when Basira appears at the threshold.

"What the hell is going on?! I- he's in my hea-"

"Get out!" Tim shouts "Find Melanie! Make sure she's done!" Basira whips around immediately, disappearing down the corridor. "Jon, calm down!"

He orders you to look- you're so angry, you hate him with the same fierce devotion you had for him. His face is an anchor amongst the chaos around you, you recognize those eyes, that nose, those furrowed brows and that mouth twisting around a plea.

This is his fault. He brought you here, he pushed you away when you needed him, when your fear burned like a furnace in your chest and you didn't know what you were becoming. Now he's here, and he has the gall to demand even more from you. What else could he take? Is there anything left of you? The worst part, you think, is that his face is his in a way hers and Danny's weren't. This is him -you can count the teeth if you want- and you were doomed to die here surrounded in boiling wax, from the moment you first laid eyes on this calamity of a man.

"Stop it!" he screams. His whole skin hurts, every inch alight in a flare of pain As it's torn from his body, and he can't- he can't remember his name, he- what does he look like? It hurts, everything- there's fire licking at his skin -his skin is not there- and he knows that shouldn't hurt anymore but it does and he can't remember his name. "Jon, snap out of it!"

Manuela Dominguez burns, and you were the one to set her aflame. You feel her pain, you revel on it, the taste of her terror finer than a five course meal. This is what you are now. You're destruction, you're pain, you're nothing but the fear you can cause. She would be disgusted at what you have become, and Danny would too. How could you ever think you could save Martin, when all you can do is hurt? Look at yourself -whoever that is, without your skin, without your name-, what have you got to offer? What-

"Jon!" he clings tightly to the monster -the man- thrashing so wildly in his grip that they both topple to the floor. The Beholding still spears at his mind, and he doesn't- what should he do?! Will they be able to get him back, if Jon loses control?

You do not care about that. All you are is pain, all you are is hatred, all-

"Come back, you idiot!" Tim shakes him. His hands are smoking, and so is the wooden floor around them, and Jon's skin boils with eyes and blisters in equal measure. "I will burn the place down! I will kill us both again!"

He can't- he can't let him go, he- Sasha's gone, and Martin's leaving, and- Tim can't be the last one standing, he just can't.

"Don't-" Tim From Before could've reached Jon, he has no doubt. The Tim that wasn't just pain, that loved, that laughed, that wanted to comfort rather than hurt; but that Tim is gone forever, and he can't reach him. "Jon please-"

"...Tim?" The quiet voice is barely audible over the roaring of the flames, and Tim flinches back like his name had been a blow. Jon's irises are dark again, and the dozens of eyes that opened along every inch of exposed skin are slowly, reluctantly closing. "Tim, what-"

He doesn't hear much more, as he rushes out if the office and slams the door shut behind him.

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

Melanie looks almost impossibly tiny as the paramedics wheel her away from Gerry and Basira, and up into the ambulance. Even from this far up, watching from the safety of his- of Peter's- of Elias' office, Martin can see two things.

The first is the carnage that's all that's left of her eyes, the blood strikingly bright where it's splashed across her face like a mask.

The second is the pained smile in her face, and Martin feels a stir of envy at his chest. She's free. There was still enough human left in her to walk away from this nightmare, from all of them.

Martin feels the Lonely before he hears the static of Peter stepping out of it. The fog curls around his ankles like a cat looking for attention, and isn't that funny, the Lonely wanting to be noticed?

It probably isn't.

"Looking a bit grim there, aren't you?" Peter asks. Martin merely inclines his head in acknowledgement, because he knows the man will only become more insistent if he doesn't answer. "Did you feel any of that?"

"Her leaving?" Martin asks

"And the Archivist losing control. He was trying to reign her back in, to heal her eyes before she could destroy them enough." Peter's gaze is heavy on his face, and he seems pleased that he can't find what he's looking for. "Your friend Timothy got quite reckless at the Archives, but in the end he managed to calm him down."

"Hm." What else is he supposed to say? Of course Tim was able to anchor Jon. They've always been close, even when they don't trust each other. Tim can pretend to despise Jon all he wants, but Martin knows him far too well. Both of them, actually. "Did you need anything?"

He feels Peter's smile more than he sees it, the man's smugness coming off of him in waves. "I was only curious as to whether or not you'd been affected, I suppose."

Martin shrugs. "I wasn't. I was recording a statement, the one with the mirror house." The tape recorder is still on his desk, the tape whirring softly inside.

"That's wonderful news, actually. It means we're ready."

He does turn to Peter at that. "Already?"

"Correct. We just need- I'm getting a map made for us right as we speak." Again, Peter's smug smile is palpable in his voice. "The tunnels are a bit of a mess, aren't they?"

"There's nothing in the tunnels. Jon searched them all." Martin arches an eyebrow, but Peter merely smiles wider.

"He didn't know much back then, did he?" He asks. "The device we need is at the center of the maze. You can't reach it unless you know where you're going."

"And you do?"

"I will. And you will too."

"...Will I be coming back?" Martin asks, almost as an afterthought. Down at the street Gerry has taken a seat on the Institute's front steps, and he too looks almost tiny in his exhaustion, his head hanging low and his shoulders hunched.

"Does it matter?"

Basira hesitates by his side for a moment, before she too sits down, and Gerry's head tilts a little towards her.

"I guess it doesn't."

"Excellent."

Martin waits until Peter has stepped back into the Lonely, until he can no longer feel his presence even when he reaches in with a tendril of fog.

The last statement of Adelard Dekker -a part of him aches in sympathy at the fact that Gertrude never got to say goodbye properly- looks almost innocuous when he pulls it out of the locked drawer and folds it carefully under the tape recorder.

He stares at the device for a couple seconds, trying to figure out what would be a good end to a story. To his story.

"Goodbye."

Click.

#illicio #vit writes #jgm #jongerrymartin

27 notes · View notes

korkisobsessions · 3 years

Text

The Oath

XX. Fire

Nilah tried to wipe away salt from her eyes. But her face was still hot and wet and throat tight.

She heard voices of the villagers. Cheerful laughter and kids screaming and singing.

There was huge bonfire in the middle of the clearing. People sitting around on the logs, talking and eating food from big table that stood aside.

“Nilah! You came!” Miho and his pack run to her with colourful faces. They had flower wreaths they made with her that day, and their eyes sparkle in the light of the flames.

“you must eat this!” “And drink this!” they were shouting one over another “my mum baked this!” she was suddenly overwhelmed by their joy; she almost forgot her pain. “Where is Yeong shin? Will he come?”

Her smile froze on her lips. She really doesn’t know what to say.

“I... think...” She stuttered.

“Kids! Leave her alone for a one night. She deserves grown company for a while.” It was that older lady who met them, when they came to village for the first time. Whose son Yeong shin saved when plague broke. Plague he helped spread. She bites her tongue and blink away tears.

“How are you Nilah?” woman touch her forearm with concern.

“I’m good, thank you madam Bon-Hwa.” She bows her head. She had respect for older woman that helped them even though they were strangers.

“You cried, am I right?” older woman gave her cup with rice wine and wink “this will help.”

“Thank you. It’s, just...” what kind of words she should used? Nothing? How could it be!

“Leave it my dear. I don’t want to questioning you. Tonight, we should celebrate, sing and laugh. Let me paint your face.”

Bon-Hwa leads her to nearest log and kids brings colours. Some of them was like powder and some was thick. When older woman wet her fingertips in red colours and touch her face, Nilah felt chill running down her spine. She felt cold sweat on her palms and faster heartbeat.

“Why are you doing this?” she swallows hardly and try to calm down. She remembers painting faces from her homeland and every time she had colours on her skin, someone died. People in her land painted their faces when they were leaving to battle, to scared the enemies or when they sacrifice someone, to be closer to gods.

Nilah always hated it.

“It’s just for luck.” Bon-Hwa smiled calmly. “I draw symbols of luck on your temple. This is wisdom...and courage...” she wet her index finger in white colour and marked her forehead. “and protection.”

It feels like the chill turned into warmth. Her lips spread in a smile.

“You are very good girl Nilah.”

Something motherly sparkle in older woman’s eyes and she hug Nilah. “and now, drink!”

And Nilah drinks. And eat, but everything had sour aftertaste. It would be perfect night if there wasn’t terrible truth she knows. And the hardest part was that she missed Yeong shin. She wanted to be with him.

She finished her cup when people start to smile and turning to her. Like they were expecting something.

She was confused, but Bon-hwa patted her shoulder. “it’s your turn.”

“In what?”

“To perform something. Sing, dance, tell a story.”

Maybe it was because of wine or because it was the first time when her neighbours were smiling at her. It wasn’t usual. Or maybe it was that symbol for courage that Bon-hwa draw on her face.

She stood up and took a deep breath. There were a couple of men with string instruments and one of them looked almost like lyre she used to play. Musician gladly burrow it to her.

Nilah stood close to the fire and all eyes were on her.

“I must confess, I don’t know much songs from this land in your language. I will sing a song from the place I was born. It’s about sea and... endless love.”

From her spot it looks like the faces of villagers glow. Flames shine and she starts playing and singing.

Between the here, between the now

Between the North, between the South

Between the West, between the East

Between the time, between the place

From the shell

The song of the sea

Neither quite nor calm

Searching for love again

Mo ghrá

In the crowd she saw Yeongshin, watching her with sad face. He was standing behind, far from others, but he was there, hidden in shadows. She swallowed hard lump when she realised that no matter what he did...it was her Yeong shin. Man, who always protects others first. Man, who run to his last breath to save others.

What he did was wrong. But she knows him. He was just trying to save everyone, and it doesn’t matter if it cost him his soul.

Nilah finished her song and made her way through the crowd to him. He was standing there with head hung low like beat dog.

“Yeong shin...” she touches his face and can’t find right words. But then it slips through her lips so naturally that she can’t stop it. “...mo ghrá”

He raised his eyes to her with surprise. He probably wasn’t expecting kind words even though he can’t understand what that means. Her gentle face, glowing eyes and warm smile gave him feeling that it’s a good thing.

“My love.” she whispered again and this time he understands. Her lips found his with need. His arms sneaked around her waist and held her tight.

“I’m sorry Nilah, I should...” he whispered with urge. “Please stay. I always thought that I have only purpose. To be hunter and killer. But you give me hope that I can have more. You make me feel things I didn’t think were possible for me.” All around them was just like blur that doesn’t matter. All he cares about was his woman in his arms.

His warm embrace, sparkling eyes and hot lips were all she was focused. Until someone scream.

“Fire!” it was like hard blown into chest. “There is fire! Bring water! Quickly!”

Sky was suddenly illuminated by high flames. One of the houses was on fire and house right next to it starts to smoke.

Smoke and scream were everywhere. People were running around with buckets of water, shouting at each other looking for their families and friends.

“it’s Jae-Bong’s house!” Yeongshin was pulling her closer to house that were slowly eating by flames. Doors were wide open and two men were dragging Jae-Bong outside. Village leader was coughing and crying in pain. Nilah and Yeong shin run to them and help them lay big man to grass. Nilah’s stomach drops when she saw his leg. His ankle was in weird shape and skin was burned with nasty blisters.

“One of the burning beams fell right on him!”

Nilah kneeled to Jae-Bong, holding his hand and tried to calm him, but he was still out of his mind, crying and trying to get back to the house.

Then everything happens in blink of an eye.

She understands what was Jae-Bong whining. Her head spun and cold run down her spine when she heard it.

It was cry.

But not Jae-Bong’s.

It was Miho inside the burning house.

And Yeong shin heard him sooner. She didn’t have time to grab his hand.

“YEONG SHIN!” all she could do was just scream, when her beloved man run and disappear in the smoke and flames. Her heart stops beating in fear.

She leaves crying Jae Bong and grabs nearest bucket and starts to carrying water. She can’t even get close enough to toss water in the flames because of the high heat.

She desperately cries when she can’t see any movement in the house. Just cruel dance of flames and swirling of smoke.

“My son! Miho!” Jae Bong’s cry was filling her ears and hard lump was forming in her throat. It can’t be like this. Yeongshin will survive this. He can’t leave her here. But he was nowhere to be seen and house was completely in flames.

“Yeong shin! Please! “she cried desperately and trying to see through the flames.

And suddenly, out of the fire jumped silhouette with little boy tangled in blanket. He was holding him tightly pressed to his chest and struggling to make another step.

Nilah run to him when someone took crying Miho from his arms. She panicked when Yeongshin collapsed into her arms with tired sign. She never saw him so devastated.

“I got you. Its all right!” his skin was so hot it was almost painful to touch him. Few spots on his shirt were smoking and burning. She quickly jerked it from his body to not to burn through and hurt his skin. His chest and backs were dirty of ash with angrily red spots where flames bite his flesh.

They both collapsed on their knees. Yeong shin pressed his face to her chest when she was trying to find someone with water. In the meantime, she wrapped his beat torso into her plaid.

“Miho?” he croaks with raspy voice.

“He is safe. He is with Jae Bong. You saved him.” Nilah saw little boy in arms of his father, crying loudly. He was probably little burned and scared, but alive. Only thanks to Yeong shin.

“Nilah...” his voice was weak and painful. His shaking palms squeeze her upper arms with urge. “...my eyes...I can’t see.”

Shock hit her body like a wave. She carefully touches his face and lift his chin. His face was lightly red but his eyes were glossy and swollen.

“Oh gods, no!” she was scared to touch him, not to hurt him. He was suddenly so vulnerable. “Let’s get you home.”

There was no one to help her. Everyone was trying to stops the fire and it was obvious that villagers were wining against the flames.

“Hold on.” She knew that it will be hard, but she needs to get him home. She helped him stood up and than turned her back on him and with clenched teeth lifted him on her back.

“No... Nilah, I can walk on my own.” He tried to protest, but his voice was terribly weak.

Her muscles were burning and shaking, but each step bring them closer to home.

“It will be good. You will rest and everything will be fine.” She tried to calm him. To calm herself, but her eyes were watering even though she was trying to be strong.

Yeong shin can’t be blind. That word makes her sick. His sharp eyes were his greatest power. No matter what happened, good or bad; she always remembered his look, how his eyes focused on target when he was trying to shoot Cho Hak Joo.

She remembered his eyes when he found her in Hanyang, tired and broken, how carefully he was examined her and how surprised his eyes were, when met hers.

She cannot lose his tender look he was watching her every morning. Eyes that were watching over her.

His head was resting on her shoulder when she made her way over the hill. It was low hill, but she felt rivulets of sweat running down her face. Yeong shin was heavy and when he lost consciousness his body became heavier.

“I will take care of you, just stay with me, please!”

His only response was slight movement of his thumb that caressed exposed skin on her arm. His breaths were shallow but it was sign that he is still with her.

Their house was absolute opposite of the village. It was quiet, dark and calm, and it was absolute opposite of Nilah’s feelings. She was desperate, scared and exhausted.

Yeong shin wasn’t huge man. He was just a little taler than Nilah, but still, after almost mile of dragging his barely consciousness body, she was on the edge of her powers.

Her sweat was mixed with tears when she put him down on their sleeping mattress. Just painful moan leaves his lips.

“We are home.” She tried to calm him and touch his forehead. His skin was burning with fewer.

All she could do was cool down his body. Quickly she brings bucket of fresh water and soaked towels and put them on his forehead and ankles. She wet clean cloth and carefully touch his dried lips to get at least some water into his body.

“Yeong shin. Please wake up.” Nilah cried holding his hand in her palms. His arm was so heavy and lifeless it scared her to the bone. She kissed his knuckles and lean her forehead on back of his hand. “I can’t be without you. You are my everything.”

And after long time she prayed. She prayed to her old gods and made a promise. She was willing to sacrifice everything just to save him.

Again, and again, she was changing cold towels and wet his lips until sun woke up and lit up the room with soft light.

Nilah’s look didn’t leave his face, until she falls asleep curled to his side.

It was short restless sleep full of nightmares. She woke up with fresh tears in her eyes and heavy heart.

“Nilah?” his voice was weak, tired and hoarse.

“Gods! Yeong shin. I’m here, you are safe.” She sobs and held his raised palm. “ How do you feel? Are you hot, or cold?”

“Sick.” He whispered and touch his face with his free hand. “My head...ache.”

“I know. You were in great heat.” She put fresh cloth on his forehead. Sigh of relief leaves his lips.

“Yes, I remember.” His fingertips examined skin around his eyes. They were still swollen and red. “I guess it’s not deep night.”

Fresh tears leave Nilah’s eyes and she bite her lip not to sob out loud. His eyes...

“You still can’t see? Anything?”

Yeong shin raised his hand at touch her cheek.

“I’m holding your face, I feel it. Your warm skin. I feel your tears on my fingertips. But all I can see is darkness.” His voice was rough probably from the smoke he inhaled inside the burning house.

“Are you in pain?” her voice broke and she lower her face with cry.

“Nilah...” he was gentle when his hands found her and pulled her to his chest. “I’m not. Just...maybe little. But I will live.”

She cried to his chest, heartbroken. Her brave chakho.

Quiet knock on the door interrupted their painful moment. Nilah cautiously open the door to find Bon-Hwa with her son. They both looked tired and sad. Dark circles under glossy eyes. They probably weren’t sleeping whole night.

“Good morning Nilah.” They both tried to smile but it was weak. “we brought soup and some treatments.”

Nilah heard their voices like from distance. She leans on the wall and closed her eyes, just for a moment. Her face was tingling and she can feel her fingers cold and legs light. Her body was too exhausted to stay awake.

“Catch her!” she heard Bon-Hwa’s voice when dark surrounded her for a short moment. Her legs betrayed her and she was falling until young boy caught her under her arm. He helped her to sit on the porch and Bon-Hwa pressed flask with alcohol to her lips.

“Come on child. We must be strong for others.”

Strong spirit almost burned her throat but it helps. She coughs and felt heat flew through her body.

“How is Yeong shin?” Bon-Hwa sat next to her with worried face. Her son was unpacking bowls with food.

“I don’t know...” her voice was weak and tears sting in her eyes.

“Jae Bong and Miho are safe. Their house is burned to the ground, but they are safe. Thanks to Yeong shin.”

“His eyes...” Nilah sobbed and Bon-Hwa quickly hugged her. “He is blind.”

Older woman bites her lip and her eyes saddened. “Eyes are mysterious thing. Give it time. There is tea for pain and some aloe ointment for burns. Lot of people were hurt. We were visiting houses and bring food and medicines. That’s all I can do.”

“Where will Jae-Bong live?” she wiped her tears away and swallow hard lump in her throat.

One fire. How quickly it spread and how much pain and misery it makes.

“They will stay with us. Jae-Bong is my cousin. I must take care of my family. Yeong shin saved Miho’s life. If there is anything, I can do...”

“You are very kind. Thank you for food and medicine.”

Nilah found Yeong shin curled on his side with arms around his chest and deeply asleep. She at least covers his wounds with healing ointment. His breathing was calm and steady, but his eyebrows furrowed with pain.

Bon-hwa’s tea smelled awfully but Yeong shin drink it with almost one gulp and fall asleep again.

Later she made him eat a little bit of soup. It was strong chicken broth. It smells delicious and tastes even better.

“All of it tastes like ash.” Yeong shin grunted and put down the bowl carefully, but still spilling it.

“It will get better.” She wiped spilled soup. “In Hanyang, when I was burned, I smelled fire almost whole week.”

Yeong shin nods. Sun illuminates his face for a moment and he immediately jerked away with painful face.

“Does it hurt?” She can’t stand his eyes painfully shut. It was tearing her heart. He was still desperately looking for her and all he could find was darkness. “You want me to cover your eyes? It could help. Let them rest for a while.”

Nilah found her best scarf that he bought for her in village. It was made from soft silk. She wants something not to hurt his face that was still little sensitive.

“I’m here.” She whispered and at first touch his shoulder, to let him know where she is.

Gently she covered his eyes with dark blue scarf and tied it on the back of his head. He touches his face and shift the scarf a little. His fingers were lightly trembling when he was examined the position of scarf.

“Is it comfortable? If you want to lose...” he just nods. His lips in tight line. “Yeong shin?” her voice broke when she noticed his trembling chin.

He was crying.

He lifted his hand and she immediately caught him, pulling his head to her chest. He grips her upper arms like anchor and cried.

“I don’t want to be in darkness. I can’t stand it.”

Her heart ache and fresh tears wet her face. Nilah hated how helpless she suddenly felt. It was worse than be locked up in prison. It was worse than Sang-Ho pushing her down to the ground, violating her body. See Yeong shin suffer was the worst thing in her life.

See him suffer and can’t do anything.

“I’m blind for a day and I already miss your face.”

“please don’t...” she choked, biting her lip not to sob loudly. “I’m still here, still same. Still yours.”

#kingdom #kingdom netflix #kingdom 2019 #kingdom fanfiction #kdrama #yeong shin #yeongshin #fanfiction #chakho

8 notes · View notes

gaiapaia · 3 years

Text

Kermit and Friends: Calamari Christmas

“I am an admirer of Elisa’s. Elisa has even worked for me. And the fact is that she is talented.” - Howard Stern.

After an introduction featuring endorsements from some of the biggest names in show business such as Howard Stern, Jimmy Kimmel, Natalie Maines, Ryan Phillippe, etc... Kermit and Friends went on to have one of its most star-studded shows yet!

Elisa kicked things off by sharing some wisdom from an online Kabballah course she’s taking, saying she was instructed to pray before ‘everything.’ One of the things she prayed about was for Barry Boss to ease up on the constant calling and messages. God answered her prayers and Barry left Elisa one last message saying he was not going to contact her again until he’s released from the insane asylum. I very much look forward to seeing Barry Boss on Kermit and Friends when he’s back in the real World.

To update last week’s show, we found out that Brandon did have a nice birthday after all. Elisa baked him a cake and got him, according to Brandon, the “best gift ever” with a very thoughtful ‘I sell houses to give my dog a better life’ t-shirt. Those two have a beautiful friendship.

The first big special guest this week is Hollywood movie producer Andre Relis. Andre has produced nearly 50 feature films, including Arkansas (2019) and Outlaws and Angels (2016). Those are the two movies I’ve seen from his credits. Arkansas was pretty good, but as a big Chad Michael Murray fan, I was disappointed in the violence and vileness of Outlaws and Angels. Nobody wants to see CMM star in a movie like that!

Sorry, back to Kermit and Friends. Elisa interviewed Andre for almost 45 minutes, covering his career as a movie producer and also his upbringing. He shared stories about on-set fights he had with actors such as Sam Worthington, expressed his best and worst film production experiences, offered insight about what it’s like to be born into a cult, gave his thoughts on the #MeToo movement, and answered great questions from Kermitarians such as Brandon, Laurie, DJ Smooth, Kevin, Brian from Louisiana, Sugar, Darron, etc.

My favorite part of the interview was the #MeToo discussion. Andre shared a story about Steven Seagal’s inappropriate behavior on the set of a movie called The Perfect Weapon. The #MeToo talk though led to Elisa admitting that she’s used certain guys before for both entertainment and personal purposes, just as women have been used by men in the film industry. Elisa’s example was her time dating Gonzo during the original Kermit and Friends run. I understand Elisa’s point but Gonzo used her too. They used each other. That’s usually the case in situations like that.

Andre talked about his upcoming film The Last Son starring Machine Gun Kelly, which actually led to Elisa proving that her taste in women is almost as bad as her taste in men. Elisa fawned over MGK’s current girlfriend Megan Fox, putting her on a pedestal as the most beautiful woman in the World. Ha! Here’s a quick list of public figures that are easily more beautiful than Megan Fox: Elisa Jordana, Jessica Alba, Victoria Justice, Minka Kelly, and so on!

Before getting to the next superstar guest, Elisa read some fanmail from an ex die-hard fan projecting their own insecurities onto Elisa. It was very funny she read it in the manner she did. I love how Elisa enjoys sharing the vitriol she receives constantly from delusional, jealous, hate-filled maniacs.

Social media sensation Billy the Fridge was Elisa’s next big guest. Billy became infamous during his time on Battlecam, and used that little recognition to further his career with music, Youtube videos, and a podcast called Drunken Peasants, which Elisa will be interviewed on Christmas Eve.

Elisa started the interview by reading, unbeknownst to her, a very inaccurate biography of Billy the Fridge. After Billy corrected Elisa on the misrepresentation that website had of him, they went on to discuss trolls, his beefs with different Youtube personalities, and of course his podcast.

Following the interview, Elisa set up a date between Brandon the Neighbor and Kermit’s old friend, Supertramp. This is Supertramp’s first time being on Kermit and Friends since late 2015 or early 2016. It was great seeing him again and I can’t think of a more perfect way for him to come back than a virtual date with Elisa’s stunning neighbor!

Unfortunately, the date didn’t go so well. Brandon was apprehensive due to the distance between them (Brandon is in Los Angeles, while Supertramp lives in Minnesota), and they were both a bit shy and awkward. It was still a fun segment but hopefully phone numbers can be exchanged and they can at least get to know each other a little better. I’m sure they would make great friends.

After the date, Elisa read a poem about Alexander Octopus Cortez that somehow was just as good, if not better, than the song she wrote for him a couple of weeks back. I shouldn’t be surprised at this point when Elisa’s creativity floors me, but I did not expect the poem to be that awesome, hilarious, and confident. I LOVED it!

Gonzo then called in and asked Elisa about her situation with Stuttering John Melendez. This past weekend, Elisa made a tweet showing that she was blocked by Stuttering John, formally of The Howard Stern Show and a guy who made a few appearances on the original Kermit and Friends. Elisa suggested she was blocked by Stuttering John because she didn’t want to go hiking with him after he repeatedly asked her for months, while John hysterically made a video suggesting the real reason he blocked Elisa was because she told him to “repent.” He didn’t say what led her to telling him to repent, which I found suspicious. John mentioned Elisa hating porn in the video... why would he bring that up? Just speculation on my part, but I think John sent a pornographic picture of himself to Elisa without her consent, and when she responded with “REPENT!” he blocked her. Again, just speculating despite how perfectly logical it is!

The show concluded with an awesome live performance of Santa Claus is Coming to Town by the wonderful John Bolton. It was a great way to end this special Christmas edition of Kermit and Friends. I sincerely hope everyone reading this is having the happiest of holidays and I can’t wait to review what will surely be another amazing episode of Kermit and Friends next week :)

youtube

2 notes · View notes

deathdoors · 4 years

Text

𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒 ! meredith here. nineteen twenty, they/them or she/her, the best admin in the world. it’s why i’m using manny for my gif for this, when he’s the best and my mascot on the main <3 if it ain’t broke don’t fix it. so: a little about me ! i’m a libra, from new jersey, in my second year of college, use a lot of emojis, have recently and embarrassingly been both playing fortnite ( i know ) and reading like 2 books a night, which might seem like it makes me smart but actually just makes me go to bed at seven in the morning. which also makes me a dumb bitch. on to the show !

name: emma phillips age: thirty occupation: preschool teacher trope: the wide eyed idealist aesthetic: fresh baked chocolate chip cookies, wildflowers in a vase, half empty bottles of pink wine, stopping to pet every dog, happy tears, rom-com movie nights, coffee with too much cream and sugar.

emma was born and raised in the suburbs outside springfield, missouri. her mother was incredibly anxious and doting, disliking emma riding bikes in the streets with the other kids and climbing trees, etc she was thus much closer to her dad: camping trips, bedtime stories, the works. she adored him, and when her twin younger siblings were born, emma’s mother interpereted being a daddy’s girl as hating her, and started ignoring emma when she wasn’t scolding her, instead focusing a much more positive attention on the twins.

then, of course, because life sucks, her dad got sick of it and left without so much as a goodbye. ran off with his secretary when emma was twelve, leaving her with a toxic mom and two little toddler twins. she entered mom mode when her mom’s anxiety turned to severe, don’t get out of bed depression ... emma was cooking for the twins ( and failing miserably, most of the time it was pizza and frozen dinners. to emma’s credit, that did include frozen vegetables. ) helping them with schoolwork, getting them to and from school, etc.

her grandparents were semi - well off, and sent some money to the phillips clan, but emma got a job as soon as she was able. the combination of the two, and her mom’s on and off working was enough to not go hungry. the twins could go on some field trips, there was enough for new clothes when they grew like weeds ... but obviously, no pre-teen / teen wants to constantly care for little kids. it sucked.

the money continued when her grandfather died when she was sixteen, and then, a little while later, right before emma graduated high school, her grandmother died, leaving them her house in fort elms, washington.

the phillips clan moved there, with a month left of high school for emma. as soon as she turned eighteen, a mere month after graduation: emma was kicked out of the house. her mother wanted nothing to do with her anymore, saying emma was tearing her away from the twins. for the rest of their childhoods, emma was not allowed to see either of her siblings, with emma’s mother telling them that she had left on purpose.

thus: she went to college, moved out of the house into a new apartment, fell in love and pined boyfriendless for years like some kind of loser, was incredibly on and off, got cheated on. she hasn’t been able to land a mans since, despite wanting a storybook romance.

while all that was happening, she got a degree, teaching at the fancy private preschool school in town. remember when i said she entered mom mode when her dad left ? yeah. she never left it, apparently. she loves her job, though. lots of stickers.

tl;dr: toxic mom, dad left when she was 12, effectively raised her younger siblings. moved to fort elms when she was about to turn 18, finished out high school, and was kicked out. she became a preschool teacher, inexplicably staying in fort elms.

personality: emma is kind hearted and optimistic — she's a little bit of a people pleaser, and a lot a bit of a hopeless romantic. she's pretty friendly / chatty, and considers people her friends approximately .5 seconds after meeting them. she's a little naive in the sense that she believes everyone is good, or can be good with just a little effort, and is pretty forgiving. she's much more of a go with the group kind of person, and hates being alone.

tw alcoholism, depression;

name: philippa “pippa” espina age: twenty-two occupation: unemployed trope: fallen princess aesthetic: bottles of vodka, half burnt cigarettes, red lipstick, shattered glass, parties going late into the night, adept fingers rolling joints, sleeping in late, the twinkle of a chandelier.

in retrospect, pippa was destined to be spoiled: she never got attention as a child, and her parents had money, and anyone who's seen a movie about rich kids knows that's a cocktail for disaster. california born and bred, pippa was used to two things by the time she could toddle: the sun, and getting what she wanted.

her father was a successful ... something with a desk and lots of people reporting to him, she never even payed attention. her mother was more focused on tennis practices and galas and book clubs where they just drank wine. a series of nannies raised her: not one or two where she could bond with, cling to the maternal attention she desired.

instead, her frequent temper tantrums and outbursts lead to them either quitting or getting fired when pippa made up stories: she was so mean to me, i think she's stealing from the jewelry box, she's been drinking your fancy wine. she didn't know why she was doing it. maybe it was the way her mother would stroke her hair gently, eyes blurry with drunkeness saying they'd work on finding someone better to take care of her. for all her twisted lies, pippa could be brutally honest. yet she never asked her mother why she couldn't take care of her.

by the time pippa had hit the sixth grade, she'd been kicked out of two of the private schools in the area. her third was all all girl's school, full of catholic sensibilities and a headmistress that refused to dismiss pippa, no matter how much she acted out.

she was twelve the first time she was the one breaking into the liquor cabinet, little sips of sweet liquors that made her head feel fuzzy. a lock was placed on it three weeks later, and she didn't get drunk again until high school. but pippa decided she liked that feeling, and more importantly, she liked the feeling of her parents finally looking at her.

at one of the rare family meals a month after her thirteenth birthday, pippa said i don't want a nanny anymore at the same time that her father said we're moving to washington. some business deal her father's company had made with the military base, it was a wonderful town. she didn't want to hear it. another tantrum she was far too old for, a slap across the face. selfish brat.

they moved to washington three days later. she didn’t have a nanny.

pippa was never popular in high school, nor unpopular. she was a bit of an outcast: mean and pretty only got you so far if you were already top dog, and she wasn't. she, however, threw big parties that drew the attention of high schoolers and the lamer end of the college crowd. holidays, breaks, every weekend: an unlimited supply of all the weed and alcohol at pippa's house, combined with the loud thunk of music and no one to get mad at you if you broke a vase or woke up on the floor the next morning. her parents were rarely ever home.

when they were, however, things weren't pretty. slammed glasses on tables, shouts so loud they made voices sore. pippa would stand there and she would cry until her face was red, and say sorry for breaking things, and the next day her parents would give her a new allowance and a kiss atop the head. that was their apology. she never accepted it. she kept the money and embraced back, of course. but she never meant it. she would do the same thing again, and again, and again.

attention was better than any drug, and almost as good as the bottom end of a bottle or a shot glass. she was mean and she was catty, sure, but then she was warm and fun and bought you lunch. by the time she had made stronger connections, latching on to the only two people, the only two friends she had was easy. they were her friends, and thus everyone else was her enemy.

after high school, she didn't do anything. no college, no job. her parties persisted, and so did kisses behind locked doors and afternoons spent sleeping off a hangover until she woke up and did it again. she was still mean, still catty, still desperate for attention: growth had been stunted, immaturity and a desperation making her miserable to be around.

she doesn't know why she does it. not even deep down: sometimes, it's like she's staring down at her own body, watching herself be cruel or unkind, sparking up a joint to call someone a bitch and someone a cow, or taking another shot and whispering into the nearest fellow partygoers' ear that they should go upstairs. sometimes she wakes up and feels like she's the worst person in the world. especially after one of those partygoers is the ex of one of those two friends. she feels like the worst person in the world, and she likes it better then, she decides. at least then she feels something.

tl;dr: rich bitch, loves partying, classic mean girl. not so functional alcoholic, hooks up with a lot of people. turbulent relationship with her parents, desperate for attention. definitely needs a therapist and a psychiatrist.

personality: pippa is very ... sugar and ice. or more aptly, sugar and fire. as long as you follow her my way or the highway mentality and give her plenty of attention, she'll drag you along on all her plans, lavish you with attention ... until she doesn't anymore. she's reckless and self-centered, but she's a hell of a lot of fun. if you manage to get into her inner circle, she'd take a bullet for you, but ... well, as mentioned before she still might sleep with your ex <3 or ur current bf, honestly.

tw bullying, anxiety, depression, suicide;

name: theodore "teddy" larsen age: twenty-three occupation: graduate student trope: shrinking violet aesthetic: pages and pages of notes, shiny comic book pages, freshly sharpened pencils, home cooked meals, deep shaky breaths, science fiction movies, 100% exams, thick books full of knowledge

theodore larsen came out of the womb miserable. he was a colicky baby, born to a loving, young american mother and a his british professor father in england. he was a quiet child, once he grew out of the constant exhausted crying: much preferring the company of his mom than other kids. he was smart though, and a heavy reader.

when he spoke was when the trouble began: as his vocabulary began to grow and he talked more and more, a stutter came with it. he spoke kindly and eloquently for his age, but he struggled sometimes to get words out. kids were cruel, naturally, and it only made teddy more reclusive.

out of isolation came anxiety: he was an intensely worried child, mostly involved with his parents rather than people his age. an investment in books, comics, nonficiton, novels. teddy was perfectly content with books as his friends, and of course, his mother, his favorite person in the world.

and then his world came crashing down. nothing horrific: no one died, no one was sick. but when the only thing that brings you comfort is security and repetition, your father cheating on your mother and moving across the world is a pretty far crash to the bottom. port elms, washington: his mother’s hometown, where teddy would finish out high school.

he was relentlessly bullied, still. the label of new kid paired with a lack of social grace and nerdy dispotion, there might as well have been a target painted on his back. he had one friend, endlessly kind to him. she’d saved his life, figuratively, and he saved hers literally, an appearance at her house shortly after her suicide attempt.

it made sense that he’d have one too. depression was a dark shroud that hung over him, exacerbated anxious behaviors. that was months ago now. a secret, locked inside him, not quite ready to come out. therapy, once a week. maybe twice.

he’s not excited about finishing his degree, not really. he feels good about teaching, it’s what he wants to do. but the idea of being back in fort elms high isn’t exactly leaving a good taste in his mouth. he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it, no matter how much it makes his heart beat faster and his palms sweat. he’s got all the time in the world

tl;dr: nervous mess, bullying target, has one real friend. very sensitive mama’s boy. british accent, moved to fort elms when he was in high school. sad. doesn’t like his dad very much.

personality: the nerdiest mf alive. teddy is a total sweetheart, very socially awkward, and pretty damn smart. he know a lot about typical nerdy shit. superheroes, star trek. he LOVES star wars. he's also in a band, playing bass. fun times. he's nervous as hell — also super cautious, he never likes to do anything without it being meticulously planned. total mamas boy.

5 notes · View notes