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#what kind of food are germans known for
skaldish · 2 months
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hi! i was trying to find resources about this online because i lost a tumblr post or ask about it but i've had no luck! i was wondering whether you had any answers or places to point me?
when it comes to husvaettir: do they only exist as they do in folklore in europe? i.e. would it be relevant or make sense to do practices associated with germanic or scandinavian folklore if i do not live there?
what happens if you try to make a connection with the local husvaettir and then you mess up? i know they dislike having offerings being missed and may be upset if you don't upkeep your house, so as an anxious disabled practitioner i have no idea how to balance this. is it better off just not reaching out?
(upg) on that same note, do they inherently exist in every home space, or do some not have any? if so, does not reaching out make a difference?
sincerely, a heathen with a deep love for spirits but no idea how to syncretize this into my modern practice, if at all? (and also a heathen lacking proper sources since my computer broke)
All houses have husvaetter, because spirits live everywhere, including alongside humans. "Husvaetter" isn't a "species" of spirit, but rather a word that refers to any kind of spirit that likes to dwell (and is known for dwelling) in a domestic setting. Nisse/Tomte (gnomes) are one example, but so are ghosts.
The husvaetter I've cohabited with aren't always Scandinavian. You get a mixed bag here in the US with spirits. Just like every place has its own flora and fauna, so too does it have its own spirits. (Though some Scandinavian spirits did come over with the diaspora.)
I've lived in residences that had a Nisse, but not all of them do, and this is true even in the Scandinavian countries. If you want a Nisse for a neighbor, you need to set your place up to be enticing for one, similar to how you need to set up a bathouse if you want bats. A Nisse is more likely to move in when you set up the environment for one.
As for messing up...spirits aren't really concerned about people "messing up," because "messing up" implies they care more about our performance as assets than about our character as people. They don't.
(Additionally, if you're concentrating on trying to "do things right," then your focus is not actually on your relationship with them, but rather on your relationship with your performance. They find that rude in my experience.)
It's not neccessarily clutter or uncleanliness that Nisse dislike—it's inhospitality. The story of the Nisse throwing a tantrum about not getting butter on their porridge? It's about being the Nisse being a picky eater, sure, but it's also an allegory about a host who did not care.
Keeping a space clean is just a way of showing hospitality, the same way making sure the food's hot and tasty is a way of showing hospitality. Curating a space for the Nisse and giving them gifts they like is another way of showing hospitality. It's demonstrating care, not fulfilling an obligation, that makes a Nisse happy to be your neighbor.
Just make sure when you interact with spirit, it comes from a genuine place.
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forasecondtherewedwon · 2 months
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eggs in heaven
Fandom: Masters of the Air Pairing: Gale "Buck" Cleven/John "Bucky" Egan Rating: T Word Count: 1205
Summary: Curious, the body, what it’d absorb and what it would not. Was Gale’s still his, or only as much as that powdered breakfast was still eggs?
There wasn’t much about it that made Gale believe they were the kind of heroes the girls in the photographs they stuck to the display with chomped gum wanted them to be.
He lost time circling the plane, looking at where they’d been punctured like a fork through aluminum foil. It was easier than seeing the boys in the base hospital, the bodies. Shot up like the planes, but with dark, thick blood clogging the holes instead of air whistling through. Crazy. The same stuff you wanted lifting your wings was the stuff waiting to rush in and pull you down, freeze you up, deafen you and fill your sight with rising smoke. Gale hadn’t thought it would be like that.
He’d heard someone say the C. O. greeted the base by spewing his powdered eggs across the tarmac and then passing out. Gale ran a hand down his face to ensure he wouldn’t do the same, but the idea didn’t seem half bad. When he got in the jeep next to John and John told him he hadn’t known what to say (and so had said nothing), Gale wanted to grab his head and smash it down into the steering wheel until his nose snapped. He also wanted to lay his temple on John’s knee and feel John’s hand combing through his hair like his mother’s used to. He wanted to be touched like that by someone who’d seen the kind of things he himself had just experienced: held, or if not held, held down. Just until he stopped feeling like he was falling. Three planes were blazing in his mind, though of course he hadn’t seen the fall or the flames or the smoke through all those clouds.
Elegance—that was what they’d been sold, not that it was a hard sell. You saw the painted planes on the posters, the gold shine of sunrise on the propellors, on the wings, glinting off the windscreen. For the cost of your body and everything in it, you could fly one of those planes. You could tilt your face skyward in Casper, Wyoming or Beaumont, Texas or Boston, Massachusetts and see that there were clouds up there that appeared to exist just to be punched gloriously through. And you could be the one to do it, be more than a man. A creature of the sky.
Whatever grace they’d gained on the ascent had been lost with the rattling of the guns, if not before. Gale wondered, was it still beautiful with the windows shot out, the German planes in their crosshairs and them in theirs? Would it be beautiful again, he wanted to ask John.
He prayed for the drive down the runway to take longer than the flight to Bremen, and tugged his hat down tight so he wouldn’t feel the wind in his hair.
Up there, he’d contemplated the likelihood of whether he’d ever eat a real egg again; a real goddamn sunshine-centered egg. He should’ve thought of his family, or Marge, but the narrow sliver of Gale’s brain not preoccupied with flying a plane through enemy airspace had been imagining teasing a knife across the surface of a swollen yolk until it ran. Sopping it all up with generously buttered bread. He was hungry, he realized. Starving.
Like he’d been awaiting the realization, John said, “Are you hungry?”
Gale replied, “You bet. Starving.”
“Interrogation first, then we’ll get some food in you. It helps with the shaking.”
Gale glanced down at his hands, squeezing them into fists. Had John actually checked, or was it just a guess based on two missions flown? The bumps of bullets and turbulence, travelling through the bomber and up into the men who flew and crewed it. Curious, the body, what it’d absorb and what it would not. Was Gale’s still his, or only as much as that powdered breakfast was still eggs?
He flattened his hands on his thighs, but the shaking had only grown worse; he saw John look over at them.
“Here,” John demanded, now gripping the wheel with his left hand, the right extended towards Gale. “Give it here.”
Gale laughed, scoffed.
“What?” he asked in disbelieving amusement.
John just gave his hand an impatient flick, eyes ahead. He turned off the runway, towards the barracks. Unsure what his friend was up to but having put a hell of a lot more trust in men who’d been, essentially, strangers before wheels-up, Gale slid his palm into John’s. John dropped their hands below the height of the jeep’s body.
Gale couldn’t tell whether his hand was still trembling, because John was squeezing the life out of it. His face was passive, eyes squinting but untroubled. It didn’t remind Gale of holding hands with Marge. It wasn’t anything like that, wasn’t romantic or possessive. He couldn’t really understand the purpose to it, unless it was to distract him through confusion.
“Is this something they taught you when they made you Air Exec?” Gale asked jokingly.
“Does it feel like somebody taught me?” John parried, light but not joking, serious but not offended.
Now, what the hell did that mean? That John was a natural? That John held the hands of the men for whom he was responsible whenever they came back with the jitters? Or the opposite—that he’d had no practice? It was just impulse, maybe, because they were friends, because it was strange, but who gave a good goddamn about strange when they’d droned across the sky willing every burst to miss their bomb-laden plane? That was abnormal.
Gale felt something surging in him and jerked John’s arm. John whipped neatly off the road, parking in the shadow of the woods. Gale burst from the jeep.
“Are you going to be sick?” John demanded, circling the hood to grab Gale’s shoulders, taking fistfuls of his jacket.
Sure enough, Gale was breathing hard, heat in his face like he knew he did get before vomiting, but it wasn’t that. He felt hot-headed without being angry, determined without an aim. All he seemed to be able to do was take John’s hands from his shoulders and clasp them in his own.
“I know,” John said, soft.
Gale shook his head, but John tugged down hard on his hands, stepping in close. They hit hats.
“I know,” again, their knuckles all knotted together when John lifted their hands to bracket Gale’s face.
“How’d I get out?” Gale spat. “How the hell’d I make it back here?”
“’Cause it’s us two, Buck. Hell if I’m letting you die first. Me without you: I don’t even know what that means.”
“No—”
John wrenched their fingers apart and flung the hat from his head. Maybe before it touched the grass, his face was tilted enough to miss Gale’s brim and Gale felt the pressure of John’s warm, dry mouth on his own.
Then John was stooping for his hat, brushing it hard and quick against his pantleg, settling it back on his head with a little twist to fit it snug. Gale could feel his heartbeat in his lips. He felt so high up that he couldn’t see the ground, even though he was standing on it.
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bcacstuff · 8 months
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I do think he works hard for his brand, the issue here (I believe) may be AN. They don’t have the right support. They can’t always expect SH celebrity status to be the main support of the brand, he is not that know (sorry but true), still love him ❤️ There has to be a team that is dedicated solely to the brand and promote it. The “company” has the same people working on MPC, SS, accessories and film production, hence MIK but their website is not even running it’s a front, it’s a huge loss right there. For example, Maximum Effort is a Ryan Reynolds’s film production company, they concentrate on that he appears on some vids but runs by its self, aviation gin Ryan Reynolds’s too different team, you get my point.
They are stretched too thin and cannot manage everything themselves with the few people they have and it shows. Someone has to be out doing the deals, making the announcements ahead of time, publishing content constantly, and customer management. They don’t, it’s shows on the quality of content, quality of the places and primarily on the quality of consistency.
From your posts I am not surprised the majority of the sales is in the U.S. that’s where the largest fan base is and it did help launch, now they have concentrate how to pivot into a better quality market i.e. Fort Lauderdale is a “cheap” get wasted kind of place and you won’t find a good market for Gin nor quality whisky and forget about Tequila, it’s overcrowded. They need to focus better on where to take it and how to sell it. It’s winning competitions then take it where it will be valued.
Also, what’s happening to the EU market? Last known news was that they lost the trade name to an old German whisky name similar to the Sassenach.
In all better PR, better team, better leadership.
That’s my two cents.
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Above submitted.
An is not alone the issue, it’s as much as himself as well. He just wants to keep control too much. Trusting AN for the daily business. I agree, having the same team for all his endeavors, and mostly people related to AN, is an issue. And for as far as I’ve seen for quite a long time is there’s not really a dedicated marketing team nor strategy plan for it. Beginning with the websites, the SS website is just a front as well, and so are all the websites for the books. It’s just how can we as fast as possible direct you to the purchase button. they forget that people (especially if we focus on people outside the OL fandom) need to be convinced, why is it that makes this product special, why would I want to buy it. Not because it is Sam Heughan who created it. It needs something else! And they do have a story to tell, but they just skip that whole part. Rely on the ‘related products’ on the ReserveBar site.
About the numbers, you must take into account that these numbers are the numbers of the ReserveBar sales pages. If you’re located in Europe, you will be redirected to Masters of Malt, and Canada you get directed to Willowpark and only see the tequila! So not that surprising the majority sales for RB are in the US. Though the largest part of his fanbase is in the US. That said, EU/Canada and other countries are not really on the priority list and how can you expect numbers to grow if it’s not? Growth strategy should be focussing on where there is room to grow, and it most certainly includes EU.
Germany is a lost case. I know there is this German fan constantly posting and asking people to sign a petition. They lost the case in Germany, and rightfully so, there is a company many years old, to which the SS name shows too much similarity(Theo Sasse) It’s not a German whisky though, but related to beverages and food if I recall right. Why would someone give up their rights they owned for many years, and have their brand compromised because some actor that didn’t do the best research when choosing the name? Do people understand how that is a family business that is on the market for a very long time and worked hard to have their brand established? Why do they think SH would have more rights for the name? Just because he is SH? Good thing the court doesn’t think so!
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larakb117 · 1 year
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LONDON ADVENTURE
Joseph Quinn & female y/n
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Summary: slow burn... You moved to London a few months ago, you stroll around the city and meet this handsome guy in a pub named "The French House". His name is Joseph Quinn...
warnings: none so far...
Part 1
Soho was your favorite place to be in London. The restaurants, bars and pubs, the West End with its endless theatres. Every few steps you had the chance to get either a tattoo, food or some new toys… You strolled around Dean Street this afternoon. Since you moved to London from Germany earlier this year you walked this street like the millionth time, but it was the first time you actually noticed this little pub called „The french house“ One look at the menu that was displayed in front of the pub and you quickly decided to go in and check it out. Inside the pub was packed with people (pretty sure this place must be a good one), just one stool at the counter was free. You cleared your way to the free stool and tried to sit down, the curly haired man seated right next to it turned around and immediately said: „Sorry, this ones tak-.“ He looked at you, to be honest, it actually felt like he stared straight into your soul. His eyes were mesmerizing. Brown, the most beautiful brown eyes you´ve ever seen. „Oh, I… I´m sorry.“ It was hard to clear your mind within seconds to finally give him this answer, but you made it. He still stared at you and smirked a little. „No, love. I´m sorry. My friend´s at the restroom right now, but you can have my seat.“ He stood up and offered you the stool with a smile on his face. In this little room with all these people in it he got pretty close to you. He smelled amazing, like one of those expensive fragrances you can buy at the beauty section in Harrods. He was about two inches taller than you. What was that feeling in your stomach? Your knees got weak, but you managed to kind of get up and take a seat. „What´s your name darling?“ „y/n“, you got even more nervous. „I´m Joe, hi.“ He hold out his hand towards yours, you shook it but couldn´t say a word. „Pleasure to meet you, y/n.“ „Finally: „You too.“ It felt like there was a knot in your throat. All of those physical reactions were kind of overwhelming.
„Hey mate! Got the toilet clogged again!Happens every fucking time!!!“ Another man came through the crowd right towards you and Joe. He laughed and was obviously tipsy. Joe giggled: „Fuck, mate, you embarrass me!“ What a cute laugh. „Well, also happens every fucking time!“ was the unknown mans answer to that. „Did I embarrass him to you?“ he looked at you with wide eyes. „Not sure about that.“ You shyly smilded at him and looked down to the ground. Joe introduced him to you: „That´s Wesley, my dead loss, but also known as my best friend.“ The fact that Joe actually kept a conversation with you made you a little bit more confident, you looked at both of them and introduced yourself to Wesley. „You know what?“, Joe looked at you again, well, correction, stare in your eyes. „I want to get you a drink.“ „Oh.“ That was basically everything you were able to say. Joe leaned over the counter to get the attention of one of the barkeepers, but then he faced you again. „Wait, I only know your name, maybe you should tell me what you want to drink.“ His eyes sparkled and he smirked, which made your knees even weaker but you could also feel your confidence grow. Thank god you sat. You both laughed. „I´d like to have an Affogato. Saw that on the menu outside.“ „Great choice, you should definitely get some madeleines with that too.“ „That was my plan.“ You looked at each other intensly. He grinned. „Okay.“ Joe ordered and a few minutes later you got served. Meanwhile you told Joe that you were actually german and that you moved to London, because it was you favorite place in the whole world. Joe agreed with that. You enjoyed your Affogato and kept talking with him and Wesley about a lot of things, Joe asked you tons of questions, so you were the one talking most of the time. It was flattering to you that he seemed so interested in you.
Unfortunatetly after about an hour of chatting with the two boys they had to leave. „I hope to meet you again some time, darling.“ Joe rubbed your back. The way he called you darling made you melt into his touch. „Can I give you my number and you promise to call me?“ Your heart skipped a beat: „Yeah, sure. I´ll call you!“ Your voice got like an octave higher than normal. You handed him your phone, he typed in his number. This was actually the first time a man gave you his number, you were 25 but had no experience with men. Just thinking about that made you a little bit more nervous again. „I hope to hear from you very soon.“Again he rubbed your back and when he left you could swear he winked at you. Wesley followed him outside of the pub and than he was out of sight. You left the pub too, the boys were already nowhere to be seen. You could not believe what just happened in the last hour. The way from Soho to your small apartment room outside of Central London was about 50 minutes long, still not enough time to comprehend the experience with this gorgeous man you just met, and obviously his dead loss, Wesley. It was 9 pm when you got home. You were tired and exhausted of all those emotions and thoughts in your head and just fell into your bed. But you weren´t able to stop yourself from calling Joe immediately. Even though it might seem a little desperate, but right now you were brave enough, so you had to it right now or it might never happen. You unlocked your phone and tapped on your contacts, the newest one was called „Joseph Quinn“.
To be continued…
please be kind!! It's my first serious try of a fanfiction! And I promise it gets spicy!!
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back-alley-goatboy · 6 months
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Well, as its Ghosts season 5 eve, I think its about time I give my final theories to how The captain and Kitty die.
Idk if promo pics count as spoilers, but they are below the cut
Starting with Kitty. Honestly, I think its going to be either food poisoning or an allergic reaction from the pineapple, but it will be spurred on by Eleanor.
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I mean, look how much fun Kitty is having, she's laughing with everyone, and Eleanor looks so damn salty and jealous.
I mean, we know she isn't above trying to make Kitty sick (the warm oysters), plus we have seen kitty throw up as a ghost. I imagine the party would eat the pineapple, it begins to make Kitty ill and Eleanor would notice and would make a game of it. Something along the lines of "oh its horrid, lets see who can eat the most", expecting her to throw up and embarrass herself, not die.
Im leaning more towards food poisoning because chances are that pineapple would be rotten as hell by the time it reaches the Uk in the georgian era via boat.
Above all, I want to see kitty realise that Eleanor was a bitch and start unpacking that trauma. Bonus points for genuine kitmas bonding over the fact their familes are terrible.
Second of all, The Captain. Whoo boy I have feelings about this one, its a much less solid theory but it makes sense.
We all know the beloved cracked mirror in the intro but it got me thinking, what if its a metaphor for a broken image?
We all know Cap is big on appearances, but in the promo pics we see him looking like hes getting grilled by the general (wiki told me the red bits mean general, dont quote me though, also, stick my beloved).
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Ever since Redinng weddy, I have wondered if Cap was ordered to bury the bomb. I doubt it considering its active explosives in someones back garden so I came to the conclusion that the "letter/operation william plans" were actually letters and Cap buried them with the bomb to keep them safe. But then, a suposedly important Government secret operation goes walkies? Thats a situation right there.
What if, after getting his medals, the general complains that he isnt worthy of them/is a spy or german ect (some Havers is a spy theory here, I dont love it but it would make some sense in this context) and it kind of adds up too much, so the other soldiers try and get rid of him. If a fight was to break out it would explain why he has the stick, he grabbed it out the general's hand trying to defend himself. Similarly, the draw opening in the intro could be someone grabbing a stashed away gun, causing panic (maybe cap finally got his service revolver). We also know a man was murdered in the library (said by Robin in the little promo film), I can only imagine it was teased because it was relevant.
Obviously this is a less solid theory but it would explain the weird expressions in the promo pics and tbh Im biased towards the Cap was murdered theory. Hypothetically, it could also be why he only wants to be known as The Captain, if the General tried to revoke his title after he got his medals.
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Also Lord Brigadier Sir Anthony Bartholemew Raisinby Jones mayhaps?
I mean regardless of what happens,they are my babies and im going to go feral. I guess we just have to wait and see.
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adarkrainbow · 6 months
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To complement my previous post, here is for example the kind of classifications the Delarue-Tenèze offers concerning the most famous French fairytales.
LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD
Tale-type N°333 (Delarue-Tenèze). Corresponds to the Aa-Th type 333, "The Glutton (Red Riding Hood)". Also corresponds to the Grimm fairytale "Rotkäppchen".
The elements of the tale:
Step 1, the presentation of the heroine. Usually it is a little girl named "Petit Chaperon rouge" (Little Red Chaperon), due to her headwear ; but sometimes she can have another name, or not be named at all. The little girl goes to her grandmother's house (or to someone else's house) - sometimes she is sent there by her mother, other times she wants to go there but her parents refuse at first before giving in. The little girl brings some food to her grandmother - it can be butter, cheese, milk, a "galette", a cake, bread, or others.
Step 2, The encounter with the wolf. The little girl meets the wolf (or another type of animal, or a person). The wolf asks her where she is going, and/or which of two possible paths she will take. Either the wolf takes the path that Little Red Riding Hood does not take, either the wolf actually purposefully chooses to take the shortest path.
Step 3, at the grandmother's house. The wolf arrives at the grandmother's house, learns how to open the door, eats the grandmother, puts her flesh and blood aside, puts on her clothes, and hides in her bed. The little girl than arrives ; she also learns how to open the door, she says she is hungry and thirsty, the wolf tells her to eat "meat and wine" (the flesh and blood of the grandmother). She eats and drink but either an animal or a voice tells the little girl what she is consuming. The little girl says that she is cold and/or sleepy. The wolf tells her to go to bed, the little girl undresses and asks where she must place each piece of clothing - the wolf tells her to throw the clothes in the fire - the little girl goes into the bed. The little girl expresses her surprise concerning the great arms, the great legs, the great ears, the great eyes, the hairy body (and potential other body parts), and finally the great teeth. The last answer of the wolf is always "The better to eat you", and it devours the child.
Step 4, the little girl flees, the wolf dies. If the wolf does not devour the child, the little girl rather asks to get out (usually to perform a "natural need", she leaves the house but attached by a string - she sets herself free from the string and goes home. If the tale continues, the wolf will hunt her down, and almost catch her before she gets home. And then, the wolf can be killed.
Commentary:
On all the versions collected, twenty oral versions do not have any relationship with any known literary or printed version of the tale. Two versions are basically copies of Perrault's tales that "returned to the tradition", and became once more oral tales thanks to the mass diffusion of the story ; and a dozen of them are actually mixed versions using both Perrault-inherited elements and elements from the "untouched" versions.
All in all, the "independant" or "mixed" versions, which clearly inherit from the original, pre-Perrault format of the tale, are located in a same geographical zone, between the Loire and the north side of the Alps - and going as far as North Italy and the Tyrol. All other versions are clearly inspired by or inheriting from Perrault's literary version - or from the version of the brothers Grimm. But the brothers Grimm version is itself nothing more than a descendant of Perrault's fairytale: comparing the two stories show the same additions, the same omissions, the same little details. On top of that, the source of the Grimm for their "Little Red Cap" was a woman of French descendant who mixed in her fairytales French and German traditions - she and her sister notably gave the brothers three more Perrault fairytales, and one fairytale by madame d'Aulnoy, which were included in the first edition of their work before being later deleted. If the brothers Grimm kept "Little Red Cap", it is because the modified ending, different from Perrault's made them believe it was a more Germanic version of the tale - in truth however, it is simply a copy-paste of the ending of an actual German fairytale, The Wolf and the Seven Goats/The Goat and the Seven Kids. Outside of the Grimm's text, "Little Red Riding Hood" is not actually part of the German oral tradition. By extension, this disproves all the interpretations of the "little girl escaping the wolf's belly" claiming it to be some sort of primitive motif predating Perrault.
By looking at the oral versions not influenced by Perrault, we notice for example that the red cap/red bonnet/red cape/red headwear of the little girl is a Perrault addition, that was not present originally. Again this disproves many interpretations of Little Red Riding Hood - such as those claiming the red cap means she is the embodiment of dawn, or the "queen of may". In fact, in many versions the little girl is not describe, and left unnamed.
The folk versions predating Perrault have the wolf ask the little girl "Which path do you take? The one of Pins or the one of Needles?". Variations exists: in langue d'oc versions (Southern France dialect) the choice is between the "path of small stones" and the "path of small thorns", and in Tyrol "the path of briars or the path of stones". However the question "Pins or Needles" stayed so strong and popular that in many post-Perrault versions, that basically copy-paste Perrault's text, the question was reintroduced (despite Perrault erasing it). The folkloric and popular versions are also deeply marked by the episode of the flesh and the blood offered as a meal to the little girl, with some cruel and gruesome variants - such as how sometimes the teeth of the grandmother stay within the meat, and the wolf has to explain them (in the Tyrol, the wolf says "it's rice", in the Abruzzes, the wolf says "it's beans").
Finally, most of the popular and folkloric versions of the tale end just like Perrault's version, with the wolf devouring the girl - with the rare exceptions of a version from the Morvan and another from the Amognes, which present a "happy ending": the little girl, understanding she is sharing the bed of a monster, pretends she needs to relieve herself outside. The monster lets her go out with a string or roped attached to her body, but once she is outside she sets herself free and flees.
CINDERELLA
Tale-type N°510 A (Delarue-Tenèze). Corresponds to the Aa-Th "Cinderella" type. Also corresponds to Basile's La gatta cennerentola, and Grimm's Aschenputtel, and Madame d'Aulnoy's Finette Cendron.
Elements of the tale:
Step 1, the persecuted heroine. The heroine has either one or two or several half-sisters/sisters, who are ugly and/or wicked. The heroine is mistreated by her stepmother, or by her own mother. The heroine always stays in the ashes of the hearth/is forced to do all the dirty work. The heroine is thus usually called "Cinderella" or a variation of this name ; though sometimes she has a different name, or no name at all.
Step 2, The magical help.
The heroine receives help from a benevolent being. The heroine will usually receive from her father, an object. Sometimes she asked for it, sometimes she did not, but her father stills gives her the object after he gave to her sisters/half-sisters what they asked. The Cinderella-character receives a magic wand, or a nut, or an almond, or a hazelnut. After this, the Cinderella-character stays at home while her sisters/half-sisters go to the ball or the mass, sometimes wearing the gifts of their father. Sometimes the heroine is told to stay home, or pretends to prefer staying home ; many tmes she is given an impossible task such as separating enormous amounts of grain or weaving too much thread. Sometimes the heroine has to keep an animal or some cattle.
If there is an "impossible task" at play, the heroine will be helped in these tasks by the benevolent being - or the tasks will be performed when she isn't here by the being. The being can be a fairy, or the Virgin Mary, and/or the girl's godmother. Other times, it is an animal that acts to reward the kindness of the heroine, and sometimes the "help" is simply the magic wand the girl received. If there is no "impossible task" at play, we jump straight to the heroine receiving from the benevolent being/creating with the magic wand/finding inside the received fruits, one or several magical dress. The dress can be "the color of the sun", or "the color of the moon", or "the color of the stars" or "the color of the sky", or "the color of night", or any kind of other color. And/or a whole carriage will come with it.
Step 3, encountering the prince. The heroine goes with her new gifts to the ball or the mass - she can go there only once, or twice, or three times (never four). The prince only has eyes for her and/or only dances with her, but sometimes she must go back before a determined hour. Once back home, the girl's sisters/halfsisters/step-mother/mother tell her of the "beautiful woman". Sometimes the heroine answers that the girl was just as beautiful as her, and is punished for this ; other times she claims she is happy for them, but couldn't see any of it since she is locked at home. Finally, after staying too late at their last encounter, the heroine loses while fleeing (or the prince/its guards steal from her) a shoe or a slipper made of glass or gold. The shoe is either given to the prince, or he picks it up himself, whle all the beautiful clothes of the heroine disappear and become rags.
Step 4, proof and wedding. The prince decides he will only marry the girl whose feet fits the shoe or slipper and thus either organizes a new ball to find her, or has all the women in the kingdom try it. After having been tried by all girls, and/or by the heroine's sister-figures, the shoe does not fit anyone (or does fit, but only by the women mutilating their feet). However, despite the objections of her sisters/mother/step-mother, the heroine also tries on the shoe, which perfectly fits her. She is thus recognized - or maybe she needs to show the other shoe - or maybe she needs to put on the beautiful clothes that go with the shoe.
If the step-mother/bad mother tries to substitue her own daughter to the heroine, the trick will be deounced, either by a little dog, either by a bird, and the prince will be informed that the heroine was hidden or trapped, in a vat or in a chest. Finally there is a happy marriage, and sometimes the sisters are forgiven - other times with the mother too.
Commentary:
I cannot actually give you the commentary here because Delarue and Tenèze decided to write a common commentary between three fairytale-types they deemed to be so much interwoven and intertwined it was hard to split them apart. Cinderella (510A), Donkey Skin (510B) and "One-Eye, Two-Eyes, Three-Eyes" (511). Maybe if people want me to share it I'll do it one day, but for now I'll stay short and simple.
PUSS IN BOOTS
Fairytale-type N°545 (Delarue-Tenèze). Corresponds to Aa-Th "The Cat as Helper". Also corresponds to Straparole's "Constantine the Fortunate" and Basile's "Gagliuso".
Elements of the fairytale:
Step 1, the hero and his animal. The hero is a young poor man, a miller's son who owns a cat or received it as an inheritance by his dying father/mother, while his two older brothers got a better heritage. Or, the young man has as a neighbor a fox which is constantly eating his chickens.
Step 2, the animal at the king's. Seeing his master disappointed by his situation, or trying to thank the hero for being charitable, the animal captures various beasts, at different times, through various tricks (it can use a bag filled with food as a bait, or convince the animal that it will have a golden tail if it follows the cat to Paris). The animal than offers the animals to the king, as a gift from his master, that he names. The animal is rewarded, but refuses all reward for his master, who would have "no use of it". The animal then convinces the hero to follow him and undress, to throw himself into a river, and the animal might scratch its master. The animal calls the king out to help its master, pretending he was robbed. The king saves the master, has him dressed up, and sometimes offers his daughter as a bride.
Step 3, the domains of the hero. As the king and the princess want to see what the hero owns, the cat/fox goes before them and convinces reapers, shepherds, plowmen, etc... to claim that the fields, meadows, cattle, etc... belong to its master, under threat of abuse. Arriving at a beautiful castle, the animal persuades the inhabitants to save themselves from the king and his approaching army by hiding, sometimes in an oven, most of the time in a pile of hay. The animal then sets fire to the hay, pretending to create a bonfire, or to get rid of a rat infestation. Other times, the animal convinces the castle inhabitant(s) to use their shapeshiftng power, to turn into an animal as small as a mouse, that the cat devours. The cat's master becomes the owner of the castle, and gains the princess in marriage.
Step 4, the ungratefulness of the hero. The cat is promised a beautiful grave after its death, and to test its master pretends to be dead. The master then carelessly throw the "corpse" outside, and the animal denounces its master's ingratitude. If the story goes on, the animal plays dead a second time, and this time it is given a beautiful grave - but as a result, the animal ends up buried alive, unable to escape its own tomb (or not being allowed out of it).
Commentary:
The fairytale of "Puss in Boots" is actually a very popular and widespread fairytale all across Europe, and which reached countries such as Siberia, and India, from which it reached Indonesia and the Philippines. In France, while all the versions where the animal is a cat are influenced by Perrault, there are alternate, purely oral versions where the animal is a fox. These versions notably have a very "pretty" motif of the fox being golden, and tricking the animals it hunts by offering to make their tail golden. The "cat version" is only found in half of the French and Italian versions of the tale, and in a handful of Nordic ones, while the fox version is, beyond France and half of Italy, also found in Serbia, Bulgaria, Romania, Finland, Turkey, Mongolia, Russia and more.
Paul Delarue was of the opinion that Basile's version did not influence Perrault's text - however he did believe that the tale of Straparola had influenced Perrault's version, due to Straparole's fairytales having been translated in French between 1560 and 1572, and being well-known by Perrault's time. Despite the title of the type being "Puss in Boots", thanks to the enormous success of Perrault's version, the idea of the cat wearing boots seems to have been invented by Perrault and to not have existed before him.
The ending of Perrault's Puss in Boots, where the cat devours the transformed ogre, also seems to be an addition, or rather a "contamination" by other fairytales. It was influenced by the ending of the fairytale-type 325 "The Wizard and his apprentice", in which an apprentice sorcerer turned into a fox eats his master, turned into a seed. It seems to have also been inspired by the folk motif of the type 331, "The spirit (or the devil) in the bottle", in which a hero dares a genie or devil to turn into a small animal, and once it does so traps him in a bottle or a small container. By comparative study, the version of the tales where the cat gets rid of the castle's inhabitants by hiding them in a pile of hay to which it sets fire seems to be the "original" one, since it is found in identical ways across separate areas with strong cultural differences, and not printed source to have influenced them.
The added epilogue of the cat/fox dealing with its master's ingratitude is present in Basile's version, and characterizes some Turkish variants. As a final note, European versions have an habit of always inventing very fantastical, ridiculous or weird names for the master of the cat/fox.
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alarrytale · 16 days
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What is your theory (or the canon theory for larries) what made H fell in love with Louis? We know evetho right before 1D Louis had gf but he was already read as gay so he probably must’ve known he’s not straight. While H was straight passing from the beginning, do you think he also knew he wasn’t straight and falling in love with Louis made him realize that? Or he had his gay awakening before maybe with that german guy? I’m just wondering what possibly could happen that those two felt for each other basically even before they were put in the band. What also made my head spinning is the fact that they both no way knew what life was head of them and they already moved together like they must felt it so strongly while being so damn young! And not even mentioning H being excited for being the domestic one taking care of his bf. Do you also think how we know Louis is very picky with his food choice, H is the one who knows his taste perfectly and so he never miss when cooking for them?
Hi, anon!
I'm pretty sure Harry knew he was gay, yes. Remember in the RTL interview where he was asked if he looked at Ruud van Nistelrooy (his fav Man U player) score some goals and he replied:
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Ruud played for Man U from 2001-2006 so H was between 7 and 12 years old when he "looked" at him (and had gay thoughts about him).
This was also Harry around that age:
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I think he's known he is gay (or not really attracted to girls) from a young age, but like Louis he had girlfriends. So i think they had a similar experience discovering who they are and bonded over that.
I think they came from similar backgrounds and socioeconomic status. Not well off, but not poor. They both had divorced mums and stepdads. They had several similar interests in common (rooted for the same football team and were both in bands pre txf). They also seem to have aligning values and beliefs. I think they got along from the go and were also physically attracted to each other. I think H looked up to L and admired his extrovertedness, confidence, leadership, humour, self-expression and his ability to look at the glass as half full. While L admired H's talent, kindness, intelligence, reliability, and his ability to hold his attention and calm him down when needed.
I have no truble understanding why they fell for each other. They are similar in ways that's important and different in ways that balance each other out. They both think the sun shines out of each others ass. I do think they know each other better by now than they know themselves. H absolutely knows L's likes and dislikes, like L knows H's likes and dislikes.
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atbussysparks · 1 year
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Tf2 merc cat breeds bc I'm stronger than My trazodone:
Spy: purebred chartreux.
Absolutely only accepts certains brands of wet food
Sneaks up on rats and kills them stealthily and successfully, but refuses to eat them. Like Garfield!
I would argue that him killing rats is like killing his own kind (because he's french) and I just found out I'm not at all "France-french" just america french. Thank GOD
Demoman: caracal/domestic shorthair
I just wanted him to be big floppa
Carries around scout like a designer bag bc he likes to collect silly little fellas
Crazyass
Scout: small Bengal/chartreux.
Perfect scout breed. Energetic, playful, cocky, attached to people, jumpy, fast and relatively strong.
Eats radioactive catnip
Embodies every goofy ass cat picture in existence. I'm drawing him as jinx as we speak.
Heavy: Ussuri/ Maine coon
Also kind of collects little guys
Big as hell for no damn reason
In my experience Maine coons are also intelligent and resourceful, but love solving problems by destroying them.
Medic: German rex/Abyssinian
There are barely any German breeds got damn.
Can be mistaken as not harmful but they're balls to the walls
The Abyssinian part is only funny if you read or seen felidae, which you probably shouldn't cuz that shit was weird
engineer: American curl
Short haired, and kinda look like they have goggles on
People oriented, like a Texan, good temper, unlike a Texan, and smarty smort
Unrelated but engi reminds me of Hank hill because of my unrelenting obsessive fascinations and borderline mania over king of the hill.
Pyro: raccoon???
makes occasional noises that can be vaguely interpreted at speech. scout can sometimes understand. Heavy recognizes some noises too, but notices that they make other noises that are not known to this world.
He has no rules, no boundaries, he doesn't flinch at torture, human trafficking, or genocide. He's not loyal to a flag or country or any set of ideals.he trades blood for money.
Soldier: Bombay/pixie bob
Sounds like bombastic, which these breeds are.
MUG ROOT BEER BLOODED AMERICAN
They will yell at you until and order is carried out
Went on a killing spree in Poland. He did what was truly right in the eyes of God, who did not create the polish.
Sniper: American wirehair
Quiet, reserved, calculative. Doesn't bode well with people unless they get to know them quite well. Very skilled hunters.
When they're not being intelligent they piss on stuff and have exactly two braincells that occasionally rub together and form a coherent thought.
There's one that hangs around my mawmaws house and when I pet it that bitch greasy AS FUCK. very much like snoiper!
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Cannot overstate how much I love this sad old man
Mr. Geldegarde Monotoli, mayor of Fourside, rich in fame and fortune, servant of Master Giygas, absolutely sopping wet pathetic old loser who bit off WAY more than he could chew
I started writing my fic about him and Porky just because I thought their dynamic could be funny to explore, then as I wrote it it just naturally developed into the central theme of Monotoli seeing the good kid within Porky and trying to bring it out by being the kind and caring person he never had in his life and aaahhhhhh (god i haven't worked on it in ages i need to get back around to it aojdjoalkdjdk)
So I love Monotoli because he's a big spineless coward and I just love pathetic characters, but unlike, say, Aloysius, he's not an actively terrible person He gets caught up in his own ambition and greed and then immediately gets slammed in the face by the consequences of his actions Constant visions and nightmares, the guilt of everything he's done, his natural anxiety and fear being amplified by the Mani Mani statue, Porky (a fate worse than death) So he's stuck in this position and deal that he's suddenly realized he doesn't want, forced to continue to do more evil for Giygas
BUT he's also a good person!! He sees the good in Porky and wants him to be safe and happy, he makes sure to treat Paula well when he has to kidnap her, he immediately helps Ness and his friends when he's finally broken free of the statue, he's actually a very sweet guy when he's not being ordered around by a horrifying demonic evil
So I see Monotoli as being a guy with a pretty strong set of morals, horrified at the idea of doing anything wrong, but who got caught up in Fourside's business culture and becoming rich and influential Unfortunately he absolutely was not cut out for it and suffered failure after failure, until when he was at his most desperate he was approached with a deal He took it, rode the high of being on top for a couple days (in which he was incredibly nasty), then abruptly crashed as the ramifications set in His ending in the game is really sweet to me, having given everything he had wanted so much before back to everyone and taking a simple job as a doorman
So I always thought of Monotoli being, like, Italian (or Summers...ian I guess) Like his whole role being "businessman buys up the city, runs everything with armed goons, etc" feels like a spin on the mafia (subverted with him being a super meek cowardly guy who doesn't actually like the power he's gotten) Plus "Monotoli" just sounded Italian to me when I first played It's actually Japanese, "Geldegarde" is German for "guards riches" iirc, his name in the Japanese version was "Monomichi Monotoly" which is something like "has-riches steals-riches" So like a different localization of his name could be, like, "Richwealth Burglerson" or something Anyway he's still Italian for me
I see trout yogurt as being this weird niche thing that pretty much everyone finds disgusting, EXCEPT for Monotoli who absolutely loves the stuff It's hard to get in Eagleland (because nobody else likes it) so he has to get it imported, but the prices skyrocketed when it became known that it was Mr. Monotoli's favorite food and everyone started trying to emulate him (the industry completely crashed when he lost his power over everybody and they all realized it was gross)
He's probably Catholic, can't really get into any specifics because I know nothing about religion, but it definitely plays into his dilemma with having made a deal with what's basically the devil and now being forced to do evil
He has like a full-on Mr. Monopoly-type outfit that he wears for special occasions as the mayor I actually drew him in it a while ago but he looks wayyy too cool, if he's this well-dressed he needs to look like someone just poured a bucket of water on him to balance it out (also i meant to give him a sash but by the time i remembered it was too late)
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As a Christian in the Southern Hemisphere, what are some Advent or Christmas traditions that are specific to the season where you live? In Northern countries, so many "Christmas" traditions are tied to it being a Wintertime celebration, so I've always wondered what it's like on the other side of the globe!
Oh *rubs hands* where to begin?
I think much of the aesthetics, at least in advertising and decoration aren't that much different; we are just more likely to use plastic rather than real pine for garlands, trees, etc, we put up lights and mangers and nativity plays, fake snow, all that sort of stuff. We eat a lot of high calories food like beef and lamb (sometimes turkey for a lighter option), puddings and panettone and nougat of all kinds, ice cream, hard cider, you get the gist).
But there are some things I think are pretty specific to Christmas in this latitude.
One is that the calendar year, the liturgical year, and the school year come to an end close to each other, which gives it a sense of things accelerating towards an end, and enhances a lot the liturgical readings (at least of the Catholic Church) about God's visit and the end of the world; but because it is summer it is a rather hopeful and light close (?) and the promise of the beginning of something new and better.
There's also the flowers! Jacarandas are in bloom till around the first half of Advent, so it does feel at times like nature is dressing up for the liturgical season:
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December is full on the time for gardenias, and the smell of the flowers will follow you anywhere. It is pretty common to see many street vendors pop up:
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Close to Christmas and until Epiphany (as we sort of give away gifts on both days) there's extensive street markets for toys and clothing; when I was a little kid I thought that was where the Wise Men shopped for gifts and it made me very excited XD
I think the closeness to summer makes it a bit more relaxed, from what I can tell through what I hear from Christmas-in-Winter people in the webs; people are looking forward to the summer holidays and shopping is a different kind of miserable if you hate the heat, but at least it isn't cold and dark and wet. And I cannot emphasize how much better it is when you are not forced to listen to Maria Carey on repeat XD
Speaking of which, music! We don't much go caroling, but it is common to have choir concerts in December, specially in churches, with both carols and secular Christmas songs (honorable mention to that time a choir sung the theme of Civilization IV. Sometimes living in Uruguay is amusing). The most known carols are either Spanish (campanas de Belén, los peces en el río) or German (Stille Nacht, Adeste Fideles) in origin, although a set of Carols and a Mass composed by Ariel Ramírez, an Argentinian composer, in the 60s, are hugely popular as well: they are known as Misa Criolla and Navidad Nuestra. This for Uruguay specifically; countries like Colombia, Venezuela and Paraguay have some carols of their own that I love to pieces (Tutaina Tuturumá, Niño Lindo, Dos Trocitos de Madera). In general, again, because of summer, most Christmas music in the radio and shops is blended with summer hits. It's been a while since I was out and about a lot in December, but the succession would be something like Feliz Navidad-Lola Si Si-Under the Sun-When Love Takes Over-El Burrito Sabanero and so on and so forth.
That's all I can think of now :D ah, we get fireworks too, although they are becoming controversial as of late because of pets, and some municipalities have banned them, so that seems like it will change soon.
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dreamescapeswriting · 2 years
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Dirty Blood ~ LF [Request]
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⤜WORD COUNT: 8K
⤜PAIRING: Felix x Fem!Reader
⤜GENRE: fantasy AU, Elf au, Felix Elf and reader is Half Elf and half human, a little angst (because its not me if there’s not a little angst) happy ending, cottage/elf core, mentions of bullying, strangers to friends to lovers, hidden identity,
⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - May 2022
⤜MASTERLIST
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There were only two reasons a halfling like yourself was out in the woods this early in the morning. 
One: For gathering materials and you'd been doing it all night long 
Two: You'd gotten lost and hadn't been able to find your way back until the early hours when the sun had begun to rise. 
Neither of which was good since you'd been in the forest since 8 pm the night before in the desperate search for the items you needed for your potions. You were physically exhausted from staying away most of the night with your dagger clutched tightly in your hand ready to kill any creature that tried to attack you. You weren't like other Elves around you, far from it in fact. 
You were half-human and half-elf which meant you needed a lot more rest compared to those you lived near and you were constantly attacked by creatures in frantic attempts for your flesh and blood. Your only other defence against the creatures was your German Shepherd dog "Snow" who had left you less than ten minutes ago in search of food.
"Snow!" You called out to the darkness but there was no sight of him, you knew he was just in the clearing in front of you but you wanted him to stick by your side. The villagers knew who he belonged to and you very much doubted they would be kind to him if they saw him without you by his side.
"Snow!" You whistled this time in hopes he would come running back to you but to no avail. You knew you should have taken your horse the night before, at least if you had taken Storm with you, you could have been home faster and not had to struggle with your basket.
Last night's trip was supposed to be a basic routine in hopes of finding some basil and cinnamon but you'd stumbled upon something much better than that. A whole secret section of the forest filled with everything you needed and more to get you through the next month or two. The shop was going to be stocked full of every potion known to Elves and you were going to be the one creating and selling them.
"Snow!" You hoasted up the edges of your gown and clock as you stepped over a wooden log doing your best not to fall on the ground. The whole forest was still wet from the rainfall you'd had from the previous nights and this was no place for you to be right now. It was cold and damp and all you wanted was to go home and curl up in front of the fire. Usually, this job was left down for apprentices to do, or someone within the village who was qualified to go out into the woods at night. Someone with experience in fighting monsters and finding ingredients but no one would work for you. 
No matter how much you would pay or offer the village hated you and all because of what you were. Half-human and half-elf. "Dirty blood" was what they would murmur whenever you would walk by them, "dirty blood" "scoundrel" "halfling"
Not many people would have stayed to deal with what the villagers would say but it wasn't as if you had much of a choice. Your only options were to stay where you were unwelcome but of good use or go to the human realm where you would be miserable and useless. You chose to be of use here and be happy with what you did.
Helping those who were in need of assistance for anything.
For although the villagers around you disliked you, they used your services and paid handsomely for them since you were one of the best potion makers in all of the fade. 
The fade was home to almost 40 villages and the main district where the high elf lived with most of the royal subjects. The high elf ruled over every village within the fade - not that he ever came to them to check how they were doing. Most lived in poverty and disarray but no one ever complained about it to the high elf. They very much doubted the young prince cared about anything apart from himself. 
"Hey, bubba!" You called out as Snow began to race back toward you, his fluffy white tail wagging as he panted heavily in front of you.
"You thirsty?" You quizzed, looking around for any body of water you could find but there was nothing around, not for a few miles at least.
"Run home, I can handle myself." You told him as you rubbed his chin softly, the dog looked at you as if trying to determine if you were sure so you nodded. Watching him rush off into the distance without a care in the world, you just hoped he would reach the store safely before anyone could spot him.
"Shit," You whispered as you felt your ankle twist and the basket slip from your fingers, ingredients flew all over the place as you scrambled down to your knees to pick everything up. 
"Whoa, you need any help?" Your whole body tensed hearing a voice out here, the forest was usually empty this early in the morning. Vampires were hiding from the sunlight and it wasn't as if any of the villagers would venture out so early. Slowly you moved your hand to the slit in your gown, retrieving your dagger from the holster on your thigh so the person wouldn't notice your movements,
"I'm fine," You spoke calmly and clearly, not wanting to give away how nervous you truly were in front of a stranger, especially with your back to them.
"It's no problem, I can help if you need it." There was the sound of boots hitting the ground and you glanced your eyes down to the floor, there were boots and hoves close by. 
"I'm Felix, I won't hurt you." You scoffed a little, 
"As if I would believe a stranger-" You stopped yourself from speaking as you turned to look at the man in front of you. Standing beside the man was a horse made of shadow and the man himself was beautiful.
All elves were beautiful but there was something about Felix that was different. His hair was long and blonde almost silver, a small braid was down by his cheek which was almost sharp points. His ears extended away from his face into points and you smiled a little, he was a full elf. Your ears were just like humans and you used silver cuffs with diamonds to make yours a similar shape to his. You continued to stare at the man in front of you, your eyes finding his as you shivered a little. His eyes were a brilliant nut brown, almost the same colour as the mud when it had rained and he made it look beautiful.
Felix was ethereal, handsome and power just radiated off of him as he stood in front of you. His lips were moving but you hadn't registered anything he had said to you. 
"S-Sorry, what?" You quizzed, wanting to kick yourself for seeming so rude in front of a beautiful stranger such as him. You'd never seen him in the village and you could only think he had travelled from another village not too far from you, 
"I asked if you needed help, you look as though you could use it." He suggested as he looked down at the spilt contents from your wicker basket and you sighed a little. 
"Sure, I'm yn." You told him as you both began to place everything back into the overflowing basket.
"You must be a potions maker, right?" You nodded proudly and smiled at him,
"The best in all of Thyletaesi," You mentioned your village name in hopes he would tell you his but he simply smiled and picked up the basket from the floor. 
"I'll help you the rest of the way, I was just passing through." He said as he looked at you so unsure of him, it wasn't as if you could go around trusting those you had just met. 
"I can walk, it's no bother."
"But if you walk you'll be out here for another hour or so, at least if you ride with me I can get you there faster. I'm sure your shop and assistants need you." You swallowed the lump in your throat, that was the problem. You had no assistants which meant if you weren't there to open the shop would stay closed and who knew what would happen if you weren't there during the day.
"Sure but you have to stop at the bridge into the village..."
"Why?" He quizzed, arching his brow as he stared at you, when he first stumbled upon you he'd noticed your ears but he wasn't one to judge. The fade was filled with half-humans and half-elves it wasn't as though it was a bad thing.
"Because if people see you with me they'll only be cruel to you."
"And not you?" Felix was interested to see if things were as bad as he had heard here. He knew not much when it came to different villages and he wanted to explore before he found one to rest in until the end of his life,
"You're a full elf I'm half...I'm already subjected to their cruelness I'm not sure it can get much worse." He was taken back a little, he'd heard of halflings being subjected to mean words but never too much that it affected them this badly. He placed your basket into the small cart his horse was carrying and smiled over at you, the smile was enough to make your heart swoon.
"What do they do?" He questioned, jumping onto his horse before taking your hand in his as you both stopped for a second. A jolt of electricity had shot through you both upon a simple contact but neither of you mentioned it, 
"An easier question would be what don't they do." You tried to laugh a little, to play this off as though it wasn't a big deal but it was. Carefully Felix lifted you up onto the back of the horse, 
"Keep your hands around my waist," You didn't move, you kept your hands on top of his shoulders until the horse began to gallop and you let out a small squeal. Quickly you wrap your arms around the man's waist and hold onto him tightly watching as all of the trees pass by you quickly.
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"You're beautiful," You whispered to the shadow-like horse, running your fingers through its mane as you stopped at the bridge just outside of your village. The store was a two-minute walk and you'd made it in record timing thanks to your new companion. The ride had been mostly silent thanks to the wind and sound of hoves hitting the floor, 
"Here you go," He said with a smile, handing you the small basket once again as you carefully took it into your arms, 
"Thank you so much for the ride, I really should take Storm out into the forest with me from now on." You spoke out as you slowly began to head to the bridge, Felix followed on foot as he pulled his own horse with him,
"Storm?" He raised his eyebrow and you nodded,
"My horse, he was my fathers but he's not as fast as your beautiful girl," You laughed looking at his horse who stepped in time with both of you, 
"Eclipse," He said as he motioned to his horse with a proud smile on his lips,
"She's brilliant, truly." You smiled warmly as you glanced through the village. People were beginning to wake and set up their stores or head out for the day, it wouldn't be long until someone spotted the two of you together.
"I should go, it was lovely to meet you Felix and if you ever need anything. My store is through a small alleyway just down there," You pointed in the direction of a row of houses and Felix nodded, bowing his head to you as he watched you take off in a sprint toward your home. Eclipse huffed from the side of him, placing her head on his shoulder,
"I know Eclipse we're behind but I wasn't going to let her struggle." He whispered, running his fingers through her hair as he continued to watch you until you disappeared down the alleyway.
"Besides, we can stay a few days...I'm sure there's an inn." He looked at Eclipse before starting to walk around the village in hopes of finding somewhere to stay for a couple of days.
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As you'd made your way through the village you ignored the comments you got from passers-by and tried not to look when people shielded their children from you.
"Dirty blood," Someone said before spitting on the ground beside you, you moved to the side and shook your head as you began to unlock the door to your shop pushing it open and smiling as you saw Snow curled up on the floor. 
"Hey fella," You whispered, putting the basket down onto the cluttered counter and bending down to stroke through his fur, he must have been just as tired as you were from the trip. The only difference was that he got to sleep all day while you made potions and served anyone that would come in.
"I have to make Cal his brew, sleep away bubba." You whispered pressing a kiss against his fluffy forehead and slowly getting yourself up from the floor. The sooner you got the brew to boil the sooner you could change from your dirty clothes and into something that smelt fresher and felt better. 
It was going to be a long day of making brews, poultices, sleeping draught, strengthing potions, as well as some healing salves. A full day of work on no sleep was going to be interesting to say the very least. Your mind kept going back to Felix as you walked through your home, wondering why you hadn't heard him coming in the first place and what he was doing here. Thyletaesi wasn't exactly the biggest village and not even the most liked, if anything you were sure Thyletaesi was slow on the rating list of villages to visit. You were just thankful someone had helped you home, you would have hated to come to work to find the windows smashed...again.
It had been little less than a week since someone had broken in one night to steal most of your potions. You were just happy all of your books and journals had been locked away under a magic ward only to be opened with a drop of your blood. There was no way you were going to risk someone getting their hands on hundreds of years' worth of information passed down through generations of your family.
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The chime of the bell above the door to your shop stole your attention from the healing salve you were making. It had been a day since your visit to the woods and you were running out of ingredients once again, you knew you were going to have to venture out soon enough which was why you were shut today. You had enough potions and products for emergencies but you were in desperate need of a trip to the woods.
"Sorry, I'm closed and only open for emergencies today." You spoke, slowly turning around to see Felix watching you from the door, a giant smile on his face as you smiled back at him. The man was seriously contagious with a smile, 
"Felix?" You laughed a little setting down the jar of valerian root and brushing off your hands,
"Do you need something? Healing potion? E-Erm...Some tea? Brew?" You were so thankful to the man in front of you, you didn't care if he needed almost everything inside of your store you would give it to him for free.
"I just came to see you, it's a lovely store you have here." He motioned around as he took in the appearance of it all. Each wall was lined with dark wooden shelves but most of them were bare,
"I'm out of a lot, I need to go into the woods later in search of almost everything." You let out an awkward laugh when you noticed his gaze lingering on everything your shop didn't have.
"Didn't you just get things?"
"I used most of them, I have a lot of customers who are bound to their houses. I take them their regular items."Felix's mouth formed a small "O" shape as he looked at you. He had no idea you did so much for the community, when he'd asked around most people pretended not to have heard him or only say mean things about you.
"Can't you send one of the gathers out for you? I'm sure they would have it done a lot faster and be able to carry more." He suggested as you poured both of you a mug of herbal tea, and gestured for him to take a seat. 
"No one will go for me, dirty blood and all that." You whispered as you brushed down your seat before sitting down,
"Dirty blood?" The term had been used in front of Felix before but he never would have assumed many people to use it in the presence of someone such as yourself. It was typically never used nowadays least of all in front of those who were half-human and half-elf.
"Dirty blood, disgusting, waste of space. Oh, I was also called sepsis for a while but they stopped that one." You shook your head at the memories. Ever since your family had passed it had only gotten worse in the village but you never let it bother you. You were in the process of saving enough to leave this village and embark somewhere nicer. Somewhere you wouldn't be judged for your blood. 
"Do they have nothing better to do than to belittle someone that cares for them?" He sounded more offended than you ever would be, it wasn't as if you took it to heart. You'd learnt from a young age to take what they said with a pinch of salt, nothing they could ever say or do would matter to you.
"Apparently not. But that's why I'm shut today. I need to go out later, I'm going to take Snow with me since Storm isn't feeling up to it." Speaking of the devil your dog came rushing into the room carrying a ball in his mouth, dropping it in front of Felix his tail wagging so much you were sure it would drop off.
"This is snow?" Felix chuckled as he ran his hands over his cheeks, smiling down at the dog as you nodded your head. It was incredible to see Snow getting along with someone so quickly, he wasn't exactly the most people person dog and typically stayed by your side and nobody else.
"My best friend," You told him with a bright smile, Snow had been your best friend ever since you'd gotten him as a pup. The two of you went everywhere together and were practically inseparable, your father used to joke about the two of you being meant to find one another.
"He's the cutest best friend," Felix cooed before Snow walked away to go and lay in front of the fire, watching the door closely the way he always did. 
"Definitely," You let out a small laugh as you glanced back over at Felix. Today his hair was down and the braid had been undone, he still looked as beautiful as the day before and he was wearing a green cloak.
"So, no one will go for you?" He quizzed, going back to the topic of conversation from before and you nodded playing with the small locket around your neck,
"I typically go at night when no one will attack the shop, most of the villagers are too afraid to leave their homes at night." You admitted as you slowly sipped on the tea,
"I can go for you. I would love to go into the woods and explore, I used to gather for people in my village," Your eyes landed on Felix, he looked too rich to be a gatherer but you didn't want to say no to him. The thought of someone helping you would be exceptional, especially when you had deliveries to make today. 
"I can pay you, I'll pay half now and the rest when the job is done," You suggested as you thought back on the money you had stored away, a little dipping into the savings wasn't going to hurt you.
"I would do it for free, think of it as a friend doing a favour for a friend," He said as he placed down his mug, Felix was always ready to go on any kind of adventure.
"And what would I owe you in return?" You knew better than to assume that no one did anything for nothing these days, somebody always wanted something.
"Spend quality time with me, give me a tour...Show me how you make some of your potions. I want an insider's view of the village and food...The food at the inn I'm staying in isn't the best," You laughed a little but nodded your head, 
"Sure. I'll cook for you tonight if you come back tonight that is. I know some people stay in the woods most of the night,"
"I'll be back in a few hours, don't worry about me. Just write me a list of everything you'll need and I'll bring you everything and more." You smiled brightly at the idea of it, if Felix was willing to go into the woods for you and gather materials you were going to be good for at least a while. A long while. 
"I'll make you some special stew tonight then," You told him with a smile, quickly writing down everything you were going to need as well as some places he could find it.  
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Felix had stayed for an entire month with you in Thyletaesi, learning the ways of the village as well as familiarizing himself with the woods since he would venture out there almost every other day for you. Even on the days when you had everything you needed he would go out to gather more items for you, claiming he never wanted you to run out. That continued for almost four months, the two of you had grown quite close with one another but Felix's visits were becoming less frequent than before. He told you he was busy in his home village but would come once or twice a month to see you and go into the woods with you, 
The two of you were quite the pair and had even started to go out into the woods together whenever he came to visit you,
"Cal, I told you I can't keep making this brew. I gave you the recipe." You told the old man as he sat down in your chair while you brewed his remedy for him, glancing at him as he looked over at the fireplace. 
"I can't make it as you can, you always make it taste so much better," He grumbled as you shook your head at him. Cal had been coming to you since before you were 12, he was always coming to see your father and to get his brews from him. 
"You're just trying to get on my good side,"
"I'm always on your good side." He mumbled as you hummed a little, he wasn't wrong. Cal was one of the villagers who stuck up for you, though since they had seen you with Felix not many of them belittled you anymore. There were still the odd comments but they began to calm once they saw you weren't alone. 
"Where is Felix? I thought today was the day of the month you went hiking together," You looked at Cal and arched your brow,
"What? I can't take an interest in when you get extra happy? Or when you get so giddy you barely sleep." You tried to ignore his comments but it was painfully obvious that was how you got whenever Felix was due to come around. You had found yourself having a strong attraction toward him and it was harder to hide than you first thought it was going to be.
"So...Where is he?"
"Probably late. He's a busy guy," You grumbled trying not to look at the time. Felix was normally here bright and early, waiting outside of your door for you to open the shop but today when he wasn't there you felt a sinking feeling inside of his chest. It wasn't as though you were pushed down to do this, he was free to come and go whenever he wanted. A part of you hoped he wasn't bored of you and decided not to come around anymore.
"I know that look, you think he's not going to come?"
"I do not, I just think he's busy and lost track of time and besides," You put the bowl in front of Cal and handed him a spoon,
"We're not together, we're not married. He's not required to be here, he can come and go as he likes," You took a seat in front of Cal and looked down at the fire, adding another log onto the others and trying not to let your thoughts get too clouded with Felix. If you thought about it for too long you knew you would be in a bad mood for the rest of the day.
"But you wish to be married, I can see it in your eyes,"
"You see nothing in my eyes, I don't wish to be married. Marriage means giving all of this up," You gestured around the store and Cal scoffed at you, 
"I believe Felix would never let you give up something that made you this happy," Cal chuckled happily as he looked at you,
"Felix and I, aren't together." You grumbled at him as you shook your head,
"Not yet."
"Not ever."
"Why not?"
"I am dirty blood and he is pure blood. The purest of pure there is," You mumbled, bending down and picking up some of your cross stitching work to try and distract yourself from the topic of conversation.
"If I ever hear those words come from your mouth again I'll never come back," He yelled out, slamming down his bowl as he took a look at you. Cal would never allow you to speak of yourself in such a way, regardless of the fact that you were half-human and half-elf. It did not matter to him, to him you were just as good an elf as anybody else in the fade and there was nothing you - or anyone else - could say would change that.
"You would and you know it. You can't live without my brews." You smirked a little as he picked the bowl back up and brought it to his lips, glaring playfully at you.
"Hush child," You were about to say something, when you heard, hoves galloping through the alley and you smiled, racing to your feet as you knew it was going to be Felix.
"Look how excited you are, and you tell me you're not in love." You shot Cal a look to tell him to shut up and rushed to the door, smiling as Felix climbed from Eclipse's back.
"Hey, I'm late and I'm sorry but-" He stopped when you walked into his arms and hugged him tightly your head snuggling against his chest as he let out a happy sigh. 
"I missed you," You admitted as he wrapped his arms around your waist, laying his head down on top of your own as he nodded.
"I missed you too," It wasn't the first time either of you had embraced one another like this and it wasn't going to be the last. If everything was going to go according to plan Felix was going to have you in his life forever.
"I'm calling in that favour," Felix stated as you both walked into your store, Cal bowing his head before leaving you both alone for the day.
"What favour?" You quizzed, pouring a cup for each of you and sitting down with Snow at your feet,
"The one from the day we met, after I took you home and went to the woods for you," He glanced at you as you smirked back at him,
"You already cashed that in, you wanted a friend and a friend I was." You told him as you wiggled your eyebrows only to be met with a serious look from Felix. Your whole world stood still as you suddenly took this as seriously as he did,
"What do you need? Is it a brew? Is someone sick?" You got to your feet, ready to work with whatever he needed but he took your hand in his and shook his head,
"No one is sick, I want you to do something with me." Your heart was racing and you were almost sure he could feel it through the touch of your palms. 
"Sure...What is it?" You would do anything for him without him "cashing in" a favour, if Felix needed something you were more than willing to help him out.
"There's a ball coming up, in-"
"Ellenas," You cut him off as you nodded your head. You knew of the ball, everyone who lived within the fade knew of the ball and every year tried to get an invite to it. It was a prestigious masked ball that everyone wanted to be a part of. Every year people from all over the Fade would fight to get invited to this place since it took place in the palace kingdom. 
"The high prince is looking for a wife this year," Felix explained as he kept his eyes on you. You were completely unreadable and he didn't know if you were happy to go or pissed at him for asking.
The truth was Felix had been wanting to ask you to go with him ever since he met you and now he finally could. 
"I'd have nothing to wear," You reminded him. You only really owned around four gowns and some sleepwear. You weren't exactly the most well-dressed person in the village. You doubted they would allow someone poorly dressed inside of the palace.
"Already taken care of, the owner of the inn is making you a gown and a sculpted mask." He smiled proudly at himself, he had been working on asking you this for months. He'd gotten all of your sizes from your previous gowns and all that was left was a fitting for the mask.
"Sculpted?"
"So it won't slip from your face," He said casually as he sat you down on his knee, your eyes looking anywhere but at him.
"Why? Why do you want to go to the ball with me?" You frowned not following along. The ball was too big an event for someone like you, someone who wasn't used to these kinds of things.
"As my date." He whispered, running his hand up to cup your face in his hand and run his thumb along your bottom lip softly making your whole head spin. 
"Date?" He nodded as your eyes lit up, you'd never been on a date and to hear Felix ask you, you were pretty sure you were going fall right off his lap.
"You wanted to go on a date?" You questioned again, trying to figure out how long he had been wanting to date you. Had it been as long as you wanted to date him?
"I wanted it to be special." 
"You could have taken me to the woods and that would be special enough," You told him as you shook your head, giggling a little as he shook his head in protest at you. 
"I know but this is different," He smiled as you nodded your head. It would be completely different. A date to a huge ball where you would be dancing all night long.
"How did you even get tickets?"
"It's me, I'm special," He smirked as you nodded your head in agreement. He was very special, he always had some kind of aura around him that made him inviting and people adored him.
"Very,"
"Is that a yes?"
"Yes, it's a yes." You giggled as he dragged his thumb along your bottom lip, 
"You have no idea how long I've waited to ask you that," He whispered thickly, his throat drying as he looked from your eyes to your lips. You moved your head into his palm and smiled, there was s sense of familiarity in his touch. Something you never wanted to lose,
"Yn?" The way he said your name made your head spin,
"Yeah?" You locked eyes and he said nothing. He simply pulled your face toward his and your mouth met his. His arm tightened around you, yanking you closer to him as you kissed him back. The smell of elderberries and honey surrounded you and he tasted as sweet as candy. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck as Felix ran his tongue along your lips while you let out a small whine moving to sit on his lap with your knees on either side of him on the chair. Felix pushed his tongue into your mouth and slipped against yours gently. The movements were rough and needy but still felt full of love and passion for you. 
"Felix," You whispered as you pushed him back against the chair, looking at him as you both gasped for air. Felix stared at you, his lips shining and parted as he smirked back at you, 
"Kiss me again," You begged as you moved closer to him, his eyes burning as he dragged you down into another passionate kiss.
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"I'm never travelling that way again," You groaned as you leaned over, holding your stomach as you felt your stomach beginning to churn. You were almost sure you were going to vomit everywhere and your head was spinning too quickly for you to even see straight.
"What? It was fun! Besides, you're going to need to get used to it." Chan - someone Felix had sent to fetch you - explained as he watched you closely. Teleportation was anything but fun and you never wanted to do that for as long as you lived. You were holding your head as you slowly got up from the floor and looked around you. 
"Whoa. Felix splashed for a really nice inn. Seriously, this place is fancy." You laughed a little looking at the walls which were covered in paintings and plants of all different kinds. You'd never seen an inn that had this much stuff inside of the rooms, most of them had a bed and wardrobe and that was it. There was nothing quite like this, at least not in Thyletaesi.
"Inn?" Chan frowned not following along with where you thought you were right now.
"Well, isn't that where we are?" You laughed a little, suddenly feeling awkward around the man who was in front of you.
"Not exactly," Chan gestured to the window and you began to walk toward it, your eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as you stared down at the ground. From where you were everyone looked like ants and people were all lining up outside of the palace yelling and trying to get inside.
“How did we get into the palace? Is he a guard?” You quizzed turning to look at Chan,
“Not exactly.”
“If you say that one more time I’m going to slap you,” You warned him as he stared over at the door where a small knock was coming from. Followed by a small woman walking inside with a giant grin on her face,
“I’m here to dress you, I believe you have your own gown and mask.” She held out her hands to take the bag from Chan and you stared at her, she looked to be around 5''2 and had wings on her back. A fairy. Typically used within palaces as chambermaids and cleaners, you'd read a lot about their kind.
“I can dress myself. Thank you..." You said slowly, not wanting anyone else to see you naked. You were perfectly capable of putting on a gown.
“It’s customary for the chambermaid to do that ma’am. Please.” You stared at her and then at Chan who was slowly trying to sneak out of the room, but you snapped your fingers at him.
“Don’t even think about it. Where is he? Where’s Felix?”
“Felix is preoccupied at the moment, but he has sent us to assist you in any way that we can,” Chan explained as you suddenly felt sick. 
It made sense as to how Felix got tickets if he worked within the palace but why wouldn’t he just tell you, you were sure you and Felix had an understanding of one another. And after the heated night, the two of you shared you were positivity he trusted you enough to tell you he worked for the high prince. You didn't understand why he would hide that he worked here, it wasn't as though you were going to hate him for his job.
“What’s he so preoccupied with,” You mumbled as you slowly walked toward the bathroom, followed by the elf who was your chambermaid 
“The high elf is always preoccupied with something.” You stood still and the fairy bumped into you, your eyes turning to look at her as she flushed.
“I mean, Felix. Felix is always-” She stumbled over her words trying to gather her thoughts together but it was too late. You'd already heard what she didn't want you to,
“You said high elf. Chan!” You screamed but he’d already left the room and slammed the door behind him. The sneaky man was probably already on his way to tell Felix that the cat was out of the bag on this secret.
“Felix is the high elf?” You questioned, staring at the fairy who was turning a bright red colour.
“Yes ma’am.”
“I slept with the high elf?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“He’s looking for a wife?”
“yes, ma’am." Your blood boiled with her as you heard the same words come from her lips once again.
“Do you know how to say anything except that?”
“Yes ma’am,” You groaned at her before shaking your head.
“Fuck,” You looked over at the mirror in front of you. This whole time you had been spending time with the high Elf and you didn’t even know it, he’d slept with you and lied about who he was. Though, technically he hadn’t lied since he didn’t tell you he WASN’T the high Elf.
“Am I in trouble? Is that why he’s brought me here?” You turned back to look at the fairy who was hanging up your bag and taking the gown out from inside. 
“No, Felix is…Felix has been looking for someone for a long time and for a while we didn’t think he would find somebody.” You frowned a little, why would he look for somebody. You were sure his parents would have set him up with someone of higher status. Someone who was better suited for him.
“Somebody?”
“Somebody who would love him, someone to care for him.” You frowned but nodded your head trying to follow along with her. You thought everyone within the royal family married for power, not for love. 
You cared for Felix deeply, High elf or not he was still the man you had begun to fall in love with from the moment he took you home that first day you met. It just meant that things would be different from this point on. You were going to have to accept the fact that he wasn't your Felix any more. He wasn't the man who would run into the woods whenever you needed.
“Does he need to marry someone of higher status? Someone who isn’t-”
“Half-human?” A voice asked, making you turn your head over your shoulder to see Cal standing there. Only he looked better than he had ever done in Thyletaesi and was wearing a fine suit of armour. 
“Cal?” You breathed out, drinking in his appearance. He looked healthy, nothing like he did in Thyletaesi.
“At your service,” He bowed a little and your mouth fell open,
“What are you doing here?”
“I serve the High Elf and his family. For many, many years." He told you as he walked further into the room. 
“But you live in Thyletaesi…You need my brew every day to keep going,” You shook your head as you turned to face him completely. You were finding it hard to wrap your head around the fact that he was here with you right now. The man you had known since you were young worked within the palace. Though it did explain why he didn't work and was still able to afford his food.
“I do live in Thyletaesi but I don’t need the brew. The High prince has one of us stationed in every village in the Fade. He wants to keep a close eye on everything that happens within his kingdom. Every problem needs fixing and he fixes it,”
“Did you know who he was when I met him?”
“I did.” He nodded his head and your stomach sank a little. Was this all some kind of trap to get you to marry Felix from the beginning?
“Did you set it up?”
“No. You happened upon each other when he was coming to visit the village. It was a happy accident.”
“You say happy accident, I say complete disaster! He's a prince! I’m-”
“Don’t you dare say it,” He warned as you looked down at the floor, there was no way you were going to be able to date a prince much less marry one? How could he spring this on you and not even be here to tell you about it?
“Where is he? I wish to speak to him before I go down to the ball…Did he think I was just going to walk out there and not notice he was the High Elf?” You questioned as Cal shook his head, he had no idea what Felix had planned to do when you arrived. He'd been begging the Prince to tell you the truth from the moment you met. 
“if it's any consolation I told him to tell you from the start but he wanted you to like him for him…Not for his status,” You hummed tiredly and looked at the mirror once again trying to calm yourself down, getting yourself worked up wasn't going to help anybody. 
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"You look breathtaking," Felix whispered as he walked into his room to find you fully dressed, as soon as you saw him it felt as though a weight had been lifted from your chest. You'd been left along with your thoughts for what felt like hours and you were finally happy to have someone around you.
"Don't make me smile. I'm mad at you." You did your best to make it seem as though you were annoyed, though you weren't. As soon as you saw Felix everything you had been worried about completely dissolved away. He was still your Felix, the same person you had fallen in love with.
"Will you be mad for long? I was hoping to get a couple of dances in with you," He smirked as he stepped closer to you, snaking his arm around your waist as he dragged you into his touch and smiled happily.
"You're the High Elf," You reminded him as if he didn't already know of his position.
"I am," He laughed a little, shrugging his shoulders as he seemingly found no problem with that. 
"Felix...This is serious you're the high elf and I'm half-human. Don't you think this is going to cause some questions?" You quizzed as he pretended to think about it for a couple of seconds before shaking his head at you. 
"Nope, why would it?"
"Dirty blood-" You couldn't finish what you were saying as Felix crashed his lips to yours and you melted against him, he pulled your body firmly against his and you pushed your hands into his hair. Tugging on the silver strands a little as he moaned against your lips, as badly as he needed you neither of you could go any further just yet.
"We can't do that yet," He whispered against your lips as you ached for him to kiss you again. You'd never wanted to kiss someone more than Felix, it was always so filled with passion and love.
"I want you to kiss me forever," You breathed out as he held his eyes with yours, his eyes darkening a little as he heard the words fall from your lips.
"Say that again,"
"I want you to kiss me forever?" You frowned a little,
"Do you mean that?" You stared at him as you realised what forever meant. You would be his. His queen. The queen of the fade to rule side by side with Felix for the rest of your life.
"Yes." You whispered as he looked at you, he hadn't planned to ask you to marry him for a while. He at least wanted to introduce you to his world slowly before he popped the question. Though he was sure he wanted nothing more than to marry you tonight of all nights if he could.
"Yn..." He whispered husky and deep, 
"You have to think about it." He finished as he stare at you. Your head and heart were in complete agreement with one another. You wanted Felix and you wanted him for the rest of your long life.
"I already have. I want you in my life forever, Felix." You told him as he kiss you again, his tongue running along your lips seeking entry which you gladly granted him. Moving your body against his as he pushed you against the closest surface, his fingers brushing down the curve of your breast and hip and hungrily grabbing you. 
"My queen," He whispered breathlessly,
"My High Elf," You whispered before crashing your lips to his once again, biting his lip softly as he groaned rolling his hips down to meet yours.
"Yn." He growled pulling back and shaking his head,
"We have a ball to go to." He reminded you as you let out a small whine of protest. You didn't want to go down there yet, you wanted to keep Felix to yourself just a little while longer.
"Ugh, can't we stay here and kiss all night long?" You whispered seductively, pulling him closer by the belt of his pants as he licked his lips and smirked a little.
"As badly as I want that, we have an engagement to announce." He laughed softly, bending down and kissing you deeply once again. Leaving you needier than ever as he pulled away from you and stood by the door of the room.
"Are you ready, my Queen?" He smirked, holding out his arm for you as you took in a deep breath. You were more than ready to face anything with him,
"Yes, my love." You whispered as you linked your arm with his and headed out of the room. Though you didn't know the first thing about being a Queen or even how to act around royalty you knew you would be able to do anything with Felix by your side. 
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Tagline: @minholuvs​ @taestannie​ @sw33tnight​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @taeechwitaa​ @justbangtanthingz​ @lolalee24​ @stillwithlix​ @yubinism​ @ethereallino​ @kimahnjung98​ @halesandy​
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alpaca-clouds · 7 months
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Bread around the world
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Let me be a bit cliché German today. Let me talk about bread. Because we Germans are fucking obsessed with bread, as it is so often parodied by folks from other countries. And yes, this is true. The rest of the world does not understand why sour dough is so much better than this horrible bland white bread you guys eat!
*coughs*
But... Did you know that bread is a thing that shows up throughout so many cultures and throughout human history in so many different forms?
But for that we gotta talk a moment about what even is bread. Because some folks do define it as something that needs yeast and some sort of corn within the European sense of the word.
A more general definition, though, is that bread is a food created by mixing some sort of flour with a liquid and then cooking this mixture until firm.
Which is what I will go by here. So... let me talk bread.
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What little German pride I have asks me to start this off with sourdough bread. Which since the pandemic started a lot of people have learned to make. Instead of using some poor form of yeast, the yeast is won by leaving a very liquid mixture of flour and water (and at times malt) out in the open for a couple of days, so that yeast from the air can settle in the mixture. This mix is then added to more flour and water and kneaded, rested, then kneaded again, to develop it texture. It is then baked as a loaf.
Now, this way of making bread dates back forever. Because we have found old sourdough bread that is almost 6000 years old. It was probably white spread across the ancient world.
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The probably most German version of sourdough bread is pumpernickel, which has been made with a very coarse rye flour. In fact the city I live in is quite famous for the pumpernickel bread here.
Funnily enough, pumpernickel was originally the bread of the poor and those, who were doing religious penance, because while it is super healthy, it is a) very cheap to make (not that you would know looking at the prices it is sold by today) and b) not that tasty, as it just has a very, very strong and rather bitter flavour.
But in the middle ages rye was the cheapest kind of corn around. So... pumpernickel was the thing they made.
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Borodinsky is another rye bread - this one from Russia. Again, rye was for the longest time the cheapest kind of corn over here, so it was most often used in baking bread. The big difference to pumpernickel is, that in borodinsky the rye flour is a lot finer and the bread gets sweatened with malt, so that it does not taste quite as strongly and bitter, as the pumpernickel does.
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Funnily enough the Turkish Bazlama flatbread traditionally also is a sourdough bread, as the same process was used as leavening for the bread in this case. If you have ever eaten bazlama, you will know that even though it is a flat bread it is relatively fluffy on the inside. Which comes from the sourdough levening.
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Now, funnily enough: The French often do not have this big thing with sourdough, even though they, too, are quite famous for their breads. But ever since we humans figured out how to isolate yeast, the French basically went like: "Well, if we use pure yeast, the result will be a lot more predictable." Because sourdough has this aspect that it will taste a little different depending on where you created it - at times even dependent on the time of year.
So, baguette is a yeasted bread and it uses fine, white wheat flour, which is a lot nicer in taste than rye.
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Now, Japan is of course not a country with a long bread tradition. Mostly because rice usually does not make for a good flour for bread and the like. But ever since bread came over and became popular, they have come up with a few of their own creations. Shokupan - milk bread - is probably the most well known example of this. This, too, is a wheat and yeast bread, but it also uses milk instead of water and is very enriched with all sorts of things, so that it is softer and also a lot sweeter than other breads.
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Naan is a bread most probably know from the Indian cuisine, but it is in fact another super old kind of bread as it originates in Mesopotamia. As such it was originally also made as a sourdough, those these days it is often done just with normal yeast as leavening. And it is spread fairly far within the Arabian subcontinent and the Indian subcontinent. The interesting thing is, that it is a flatbread, but it is usually completely oven baked.
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Chipati is an unlevened flat bread that is quite common in eastern Africa. It is usually really thin and is served as a side dish to all sorts of soups and stews, often used to carry those with people dipping the bread in the soup/stew or putting stew onto the bread.
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And while we are on the topic of unlevened flat breads: Tortillas are among those, too. They are kinda interesting in so far that, while most tortillas sold these days are wheat based, there is a version around made from maize, too.
But yeah, usually most breads are made with wheat or rye or maybe spelt, because breads... just turn out best, when they have gluten, as gluten helps to develop those fluffy textures we associate with bread. Which is why bread tends to be most common within areas, where they had some access to gluten rich corn. xD
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koolkat9 · 6 months
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GerEng Week 2023 - Day 4
@gereng-week
Prompt: Secret Agents || Overworking
Rating: T
Pairing: GerEng
Word Count: 1560
Read on AO3
You and Me
Ludwig had always known what he was putting on the line when he got into the spy business. The danger, the secrecy, all work no play. And he had been happy with that. Work always had come first in his life anyway, and he was being useful keeping people safe, not to mention the adrenaline high that came with every mission.
But then he was paired with a top British spy. Then he fell in love with that British spy. Then he confessed to said spy because he thought they were going to die. And in the biggest turn of events, the British spy–Arthur–returned his feelings.
Suddenly there was something more than work, something more exhilarating than adrenaline. Life was fuller, and Ludwig was happier than he thought possible.
Until everything came crashing down, literally.
It was supposed to be a simple mission. Some mid-tier art thief. Ludwig had been taking a lot of these kinds of low-risk assignments. Perhaps it was that brush with death that put things into perspective, or maybe now he had a future to be thinking about beyond work.
Ludwig had done many missions like that in his early years in the field. Perhaps that had lulled into a false sense of security. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t hear the beeping of the bomb until it was too late.
His legs were never the same after that. He was lucky to be able to walk at all, but he could only go a short distance before his legs started to lock up. He could never return to the world of espionage.
It was hard at first, but now that he wasn’t a German super spy, he could move in with his lover in England. If it wasn’t for Arthur and the three dogs they got together, Ludwig couldn’t imagine how that period of recovery would have gone otherwise.
Ludwig settled into the role of house husband as Arthur continued his spy work. It was surprisingly fulfilling, though Ludwig always enjoyed cleaning and baking. Now he had more time for his hobbies, to have pets, things he didn’t know he longed for.
It was close to perfect except…
“Are you sure you’re okay staying home? Are you sure you’re okay alone here for weeks?”
Even Ludwig knew what Arthur meant: “Do you miss it? Are you unhappy without spy work?”
Ludwig wasn’t. In the beginning, yes he missed it, and it was a hard pill to swallow knowing he could never go back. But once he started, it grew on him. And this way, he could ensure he would always be there for Arthur, their future was less uncertain. Yet Arthur failed to see it all.
But still, they were happy.
Until Ludwig started to realize the heaviness in Arthur’s shoulders, the bags under his eyes. They were going out less and less during the periods Arthur was off, but the worst of it was the bruises and marks Ludwig began to spot. Sure minor injuries were to be expected, but not this often. Whenever he caught a glimpse of one it made him sick. Who knew what kind of danger Arthur was narrowly escaping?
When would Arthur’s luck run out like Ludwig’s did?
So after a month-long mission, Ludwig prepared one a roast, a recipe Arthur’s mother had taught him early on in the relationship alongside a homemade angel food cake for dessert.
“Lud? I’m home,” Arthur called.
“In the kitchen.”
Arms slinked around Ludwig’s waist as he put the last touches on the cake. Arthur tried to swipe some of the icing, only for Ludwig to hit his hand.
“Dinner first,” Ludwig tisked.
“Fine…”
With dinner eaten and moving on to cake, Ludwig finally spoke up. He had been rehearsing it in his head all day. Taking a breath he began:
“Have you…ever considered…maybe giving up espionage and finally settling down?”
Arthur’s fork clattered to the table. “What?”
“Give up espionage and–”
“No.”
“But–”
“How could you even ask that? You know how much I love this job.”
“And I loved it too, but Arthur, I should know better than anyone how dangerous this is. We’re starting to build a life together but–”
“This has been my dream since I was young. I can’t just throw it all away?”
“So I’m not worth it?” The words were leaving Ludwig’s mouth before he could even process it.
“That’s not what I–”
“It was my dream too, and you know it. But is it really worth the risk? I’m happy now. Knowing that I have something beyond work. That I actually have a set future. No more uncertainty. And I want to marry you someday, but I can’t do that when--”
Ludwig wouldn’t remember the words exchanged, but they both had said things that hurt, things they didn’t mean, and in their anger, it only made it hurt more.
“It was just a suggestion,” Ludwig whispered sharply, putting an end to the conversation. “Do what you want. I’m going to bed.”
Arthur didn’t argue or protest, he just huffed off to his study.
— — —
Arthur didn’t go to bed that night. He decided to camp out on the couch so both he and Ludwig could cool off.
As he stared at the ceiling, Ludwig's words echoed in his mind.
Ludwig wasn’t meant to live.
After the explosion, doctors said he had a slim chance of ever coming off life support. Those days, waiting, praying, were all a blur, but Arthur would never forget the day Ludwig had opened his eyes, finally squeezing his hand back. Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he had been that happy.
Ludwig wasn’t meant to walk again. But with a great physio team and his unwavering desire to keep himself moving, he had beaten the odds. He couldn’t travel long distances now without a cane or a wheelchair, but he could walk. He could do housework. He could even go for short jogs around the block.
Ludwig was lucky. Arthur would probably not be as lucky.
Being a spy had been Arthur’s dream since he first saw them in movies. It was everything he wanted to be: charming, cunning, clever, a true gentleman who also helped keep people safe. But now there was Ludwig. Someone who loved him. Someone who cared for him. Someone afraid of losing him. And the more Arthur thought about it, he didn’t want to lose Ludwig either.
How could they ever start to build a life together while Arthur was gallivanting about the world, no contact with loved ones for weeks, even months, not knowing if he’d get home alive?
How would Ludwig have felt if Arthur was the one who ended up in the hospital, a hair from death?
Arthur didn’t get much sleep that night.
— — —
The smell of bacon grease seeped into his nostrils, waking him up with a comforting warmth. Arthur’s stomach growled as he stretched.
Cautiously, he approached the kitchen. Even after all these years and all his spy training, he couldn’t read Ludwig. He often looked troubled even when he wasn’t, with furrowed brows, and lips drawn in a thin line. But he could at least sense Ludwig was still upset.
“I’m sorry,” Arthur murmured, “I didn’t mean anything I said yesterday. I know you aren’t trying to crush my dream. I–”
“I’m sorry for losing my temper.”
��You had every right to.”
Ludwig shrugged. “It didn’t help the situation. And it’s not my place to stop you from continuing to pursue your dream.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Arthur went on, arms wrapping around Ludwig’s waist, chin just barely reaching to rest on Ludwig’s shoulder. “I’ve been in this field for almost a decade. Many would say I’ve already reached my dream of being a spy. And I think they’re right. I can’t really climb any higher without getting taken out of field work, which was the only position I could see myself in. I think I need a new dream.”
Hands trailed along Ludwig’s abdomen. Ludwig took in a sharp breath.
Arthur smirked. Such a sensitive spot. He must have gotten soft in his years at home or perhaps it was a show of trust. “As I was saying. My new dream is you, me, a little cottage in the countryside, safe and sound. No running around the world, no brushes with death, just you and me, the dogs. We can get married. Whatever we want. Together.”
“Maybe you should be a romance writer,” Ludwig teased though he leaned back into the hold. “With all those sappy lines.”
Arthur pursed his lips. He knew Ludwig meant to taunt him, but becoming an author didn’t sound half bad. He had always liked writing as a hobby. Perhaps now he could use that.
“That can be decided at a later time. Right now, I have a lot to make up to you.”
Arthur nuzzled Ludwig’s neck before nipping at it lightly.
Ludwig steeled himself, suddenly pulling away to set up Arthur’s plate. “Breakfast first.”
“Then all day in bed,” Arthur smirked.
Ludwig let out a dramatic groan. “I guess.” But Arthur knew better. The small curl of Ludwig’s lip, the faint blush. The glint in his eye. How could he ever leave this for months on end?
“I love you,” Arthur whispered.
“I love you too. Now eat.”
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7serendipities · 1 year
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Dryads and Wood-Wives: A Question of Categorization
I got an interesting question on tumblr last week, and while I’m not going to copy the entire thing over here, nor my entire rambling response, I thought it brought up two important worldview questions that might illuminate my practice a bit for ya’ll, and may help out others who are new to walking the path of a fairy witch.
The first question was, basically: is a Germanic wood-wife the same thing as a Greek dryad? Are these just two names for the same exact thing? On the surface, it does sort of seem that way; they’re described in very similar terms. But one of the trickiest things about the realms of Fairy (and one that I think is the hardest for people to wrap their heads around) is that we can’t cleanly separate fairies into specific species. There’s a lot of evidence in the Scottish Witch Trial manuscripts that the difference between a devil and an imp and a fairy and an elf was pretty much a difference of attitude, and that the same being might be called two or more of these terms even by the same person.(1) And there’s plenty of folkloric evidence that these beings can change their appearance, or at least deceive our senses. So we just can’t quantify and identify them as we do with animals and plants, and just because they seem similar doesn’t necessarily mean they are the same.
On top of that, we have to add the complexities of culture - both ours and theirs. I think it’s reasonable to say that some of the Fair Folk seem to have a sort of symbiotic relationship with nearby humans, to the point that there’s some cultural bleed between the two groups.(2) So it would make sense to me that the dryads would have more Greek sensibilities and prefer offerings of common Greek foodstuffs, whereas wood-wives would have more Germanic sensibilities and prefer more common Germanic foodstuffs - and that seems to be born out in the folklore about what to offer and how to give it. So it doesn’t make sense to me to try and force a pattern on that - there’s no way to reduce them all, to the point where you can say “all feminine forest spirits should be offered [some kind of food]”. I think it’s better to just not worry about whether wood-wives and dryads are the same “species” and instead of highlighting the similarities, learn about the differences, so that you don’t accidentally offend anyone.(3) When I encounter new beings in the landscape, either Over Here, or Over There, as I’m going about my business, one of the things I ask is what they call themselves - not their Name or even name, but what type of a being they want me to know them as. They are usually willing to either show or tell me enough that I can at least figure out what paradigm will work best in my interactions with them, and I then move forward treating them as the folklore surrounding that being suggests that I should.(4)
That brings me to the second question: do fairy beings travel to places other than where their original folklore is from? I think they do. I think it would be strange to think that only humans travel across our world, when plants and animals have done their best to migrate (with and without our help) as well. I also think that the symbiosis I spoke about in the last section plays a roll, but this time on a more macro scale. I’ve heard stories of brownies and nisser traveling with their families on boats to the Americas, and there are stories of fairy beings being “chased out” of certain areas (often by Christian priests). I don’t think it’s a stretch to think that some of them might’ve come that way to the Americas or Australia or wherever. Personally, I’ve met a lot of fairy beings who, when I ask them what type of being they are, identify themselves as something from European folklore. Near where I live, it’s been mainly beings known from Celtic or British or Germanic cultural folklore, and I think that makes sense given the colonial history of this area. (I’ve met some indigenous otherworldly beings as well, but they’re usually fairly shy, and so far none of them are specifically symbiotic to the indigenous cultures of that side of my family, but I’m nowhere near the traditional homelands, either.) I wouldn’t be super surprised, either, to find beings from Central American or Islamic or Korean folklore nearby, either, considering the current demographics of the area, but I also can’t say that I would necessarily recognize them if I did, as I’m not as well versed in those. Generally though, I think it’s not impossible to find beings from any culture that is currently represented in your area or has ever lived there, because these beings are usually believed to be both powerful and long-lived, and it’s therefore a good idea to just learn as much as you can about anyone you might encounter.
When I ask fairy-like otherworldly beings(5) what kind of a being they are, I’m not looking to categorize them, to check them off in a field guide, or to decide what “species” they belong to - I’m trying to gain context. How they present themselves tells me a little about their expectations, their likes and dislikes, and their sensibilities. And then I’ll use that information, and offer Dryads clean water, diluted wine, and olive oil, and offer wood-wives bread or other things made of grain, and perhaps a bit of milk. I’m a witch looking to create relationships, not a scientist trying to answer questions that might just be unanswerable.
See Emma Wilby’s Cunningfolk and Familiar Spirits (Sussex Academic Press, 2005), and Seo Helrune (www.seohelrune.com) has talked about the same in the Nordic sphere, with alfe vs jotnar, in some of their classes.
“Symbiotic” here not necessarily meaning “mutualistic” (benefitting both parties) on a micro scale. I think it’s likely that it’s mutualistic on a macro scale of our two populations, but on a micro scale yeah some humans definitely get fucked over, more along the lines of commensalism or straight-up predation.
Really, learning as much as you can in order to avoid giving accidental offence is probably my #1 Fairy Witchcraft rule.
To an extent: there’s plenty of folklore that says “don’t ever fucking talk to these omg just leave quickly and pretend you didn’t see them”. That’s fairly wise for those wishing not to end up in deep water with the Fair Folk but as I’m already fully submerged, I don’t always look away - I trust that my bargains and roles and allies will keep me safe in most normal situations, and I don’t try to mess around with things above my pay grade. A lot of my discernment has been just figuring out what is and is not within my pay grade, and while I might not rush inside and barricade the door if I see a kelpie, I’m not likely to touch it or try to banish it, either. To quote Morgan Daimler, “I like my liver on the inside.”
There’s some disagreement about whether “fairy” includes non-European folkloric otherworldly beings, and more about whether it should, so just to be clear, when I use “fairy” I do mean it in the more general “folkloric otherworldly being” sense. But I try to use “fairy-like” when I’m explicitly talking about non-European folkloric otherworldly beings, out of respect for people in their source cultures who might not feel like the word “fairy” is appropriate. Some of that, I find, is because of a misunderstanding of what a “fairy” is, based on popculture, though - I had a long discussion with a Persian friend about fairies and djinn where at the end we basically decided both terms covered the same basic category, but she originally had thought all fairies were small Tinkerbell types which did not seem at all like her understanding of djinn!
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sucharide · 6 months
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Look Astarion and Raphael are both such cats and these are my thoughts.
Astarion is run away from a bad home stray cat coded. Always vigilant, takes what he can get where he can get. Would rather subsist on whatever he can catch than the vermin he was given by his old master. Freedom is most important for him. Getting him to trust you so you can give him a good home is extremely hard, he'd be very likely to feel trapped by your love and want to get outside and roam and go back to the streets, he'd rather kill his way to being the most feared alley cat than eat a fancy diet and get scritches. (He really wants the fancy diet and the scritches, but he can't trust scritches!!!!) Kind of cat you'll need to leave food out for for weeks before he'll let you within ten feet. Even if you think you've fostered a friendship, he's liable to lash out because he does not trust anyone, you're just a meal ticket.
Raphael is also cat coded, but he's a well fed, cruel, rules the household cat. It's a single cat household, but there's literally two german shepherds who live there as well but they're absolutely terrified of him and absolutely have scars from his claws. The dogs don't even enter the room if he's there. They used to sleep inside until he came along, but they've both dragged their beds outside. He loves hunting mice, but he doesnt always kill them. The kind of cat to play with his food and then decide he doesnt want it and would rather his fancy $7-a-sachet chicken and gravy. His owner tried to wean him off the fancy stuff. He made his feelings known. Sleeps on a pillow on his owners bad. owner usually wakes up to his asshole on their face, no fucks given.
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fanficwriter284 · 6 months
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OH MY GOD DID FAN ACTUALLY WRITE SOMETHING? YES PEOPLE IM KINDA OF GETTING MY MOJO BACK! Here's a little quick write!
It was a still Friday afternoon, a young Charles Lee Ray sat, fiddling aimlessly with a number two wooden pencil, this one taken from his teacher's desk. He would have been playing with toys if he had any. However his father never bought any for the young boy, so his best option for entertainment was a pencil. Eventually, he grew bored of it, and stared out the window watching the autumn leaves fall, and the gusts of wind lift them back to the height of the trees. He missed his homeland of Germany, the security of his small town, and the illusion of a somewhat functional family, and his brother...oh how he longed for his twin brother…
Twins had always been known to the Ray family with his father being a twin as well. However, Charles’ twin was now…deceased. Due to respiratory issues in his sleep, resulting in the young boy never waking up…or at least that’s what his father told the public. Charles knew the truth. His twin possessed no such issues, Carolus was perfectly healthy. It was his father who was sick, the man stunk of pungent Ale, drinking away his issues every night…until one day he returned home. And strangled his youngest son to death leaving Charles to find his younger twin's body still and lifeless. He recalled the coldness he felt upon touching Caro’s skin, and the lack of pulse. Oh how he wailed and shrieked, praying that his brother would wake, all for it to be in vain. God showed no mercy that night. Charles never cared for his mother, the woman never loved him, he took no offense to it since he didn’t love her either, they never spoke nor acknowledged one another. They were two strangers trapped in a household bound together by blood, nothing more, so her death was another casualty. He felt no grief or emotion for her; she was simply a person to him…not a mother...not a mom…. she was not fit for such a little.
However, he much preferred her lack of acknowledgment over his father. For the man beat him daily. Charles wished the tool for “discipline” was a belt, but his father saw the tool as nothing more than a soft weak punishment ... a metallic rod however would suffice for his son’s “disobedience”. Charles couldn’t remember the last time he had been met with gentle hands that treated him with kindness, only those who wished to “correct” him and his negligence. His body was weak and wiry, given no opportunity to grow, with little food provided, and no time to flourish and thrive. His innocence was lost upon moving to America…or “Amerika'' as he pronounced it through his thick German accent. Charles could only stare out the window watching the free birds chirp soaring. His daydream was full of wonder, and what he imagined was love. In his haze he was with his brother, laughing and cheering playing a carefree game of soccer, hearing his father say the words,” I’m proud of you son”....he couldn’t even imagine how that would sound emerging from his father, struggling to make the phrase to the voice...The young lad blinked, snapping out of his daydream back into reality, surrounded by empty beer bottles and cans, along with cigarette buds, and dusty ashtrays. 
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