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fontainebleau22 · 6 years ago

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Box of Frogs (Part 5)

From @tramstrams‘ not-at-all-serious prompt, ‘an AU with magic, but something has gone terribly awry and people are being turned into frogs. Only Sam Chisolm can stop this madness’.

Part 1 here. Part 2 here. Part 3 here. Part 4 here.

---

‘Turned into what?’ Sam stood in the doorway to the living-room, taking in the glass tanks full of foliage, humming equipment, stacks of brightly-coloured handbooks on amphibian care and plastic tubs spilling out … eugh.

‘Frogs.’ Goody was haggard, his normally well-trimmed beard beginning to bristle, and dark circles under his eyes: when he’d opened the door he’d fallen on Sam’s neck with the fervour of a drowning man. ‘That’s Joshua up there.’

Sam peered suspiciously into the tank on the shelf. Yes, definitely a frog, mottled green and brown with paler ridges along its sides, motionless apart from the rapid in-and-out of its breathing. Joshua?

‘Billy’s in here.’ Goody collapsed onto the sofa beside the larger tank on the coffee-table. ‘He won’t come out straight away – I’ll see if I can encourage him with the misting spray.’

Goody fiddled with a dial, but squinting into the tangle of leaves Sam saw nothing, only a running stream and mossy stones. He frowned. ‘You sure they’re not just pulling your leg?’

Goody looked at him reproachfully: he certainly seemed too agitated for it to be a joke. ‘Ale saw it happen both times: Josh got frogged right in front of him. And Billy too.’

Sam glanced around as though Ale might be lurking unnoticed somewhere in the room. ‘So where is he now?’

‘I put him in with Josh.’ Goody gestured vaguely towards the tank. ‘He’ll be hanging behind those branches – tree frogs are nocturnal.’ Sam leaned closer: he could just make out an indistinct green blob clinging half-hidden behind the leaves.

Right. Sam attempted to rally his rational forces. ‘Is everyone a frog but you?’

Goody nodded exhaustedly. ‘Jack’s in the bathtub.’

‘The bathtub,’ echoed Sam blankly.

‘He’s a bullfrog,’ explained Goody impatiently. ‘He needs the space, though you should hear his croaking.’

Sam felt himself beginning to struggle. ‘You’ve been sharing your bath with Jack? What happens when you want to shower?’

Goody gave him a withering look. ‘I put him in the basin. Look, can you try to focus on what’s important?’

Sam sat down heavily on the sofa. A flash of blue ricocheted across the habitat in front of him and a delicate black-striped frog landed next to the pool; it seemed to regard him sagely. He tried again to get to grips with the situation. ‘Where’s Red?’

Goodnight pointed upward. ‘On the roof.’

‘On the-‘ Sam bit himself off before he started parroting again. ‘Isn’t that a mite dangerous for him?’

Goody stared at him in puzzlement, then snapped. ‘He’s a hawk, not a frog. He hasn’t been human since Tuesday, I’ve had to wrangle this all on my own. I’ve been counting the days till you came back.

It certainly wasn’t the return he’d been expecting: Sam blew a breath out through his moustache. ‘How did it all happen?’

Goodnight was leaning forward over the large habitat, working at the latches. ‘It’s- there’s this woman,’ he said distractedly, ‘loses her temper, zap!, frogs. Can’t reason with her. Look, none of that matters.’ He grabbed Sam’s elbow with one hand. ‘It just hasn’t worn off, and there’s no cure we could find – kissing him doesn’t work, and what Joshua and Ale have been doing in there together – well, that doesn’t work either. It’s why I need you.’ He fixed Sam with such an earnest expression that Sam couldn’t help reaching to squeeze his shoulder comfortingly. ‘I kept telling myself, all I had to do was hold out till you came back.’

Sam Chisolm, officer of the law, six feet of well-preserved muscle and moustache, handsome, robust and a complete anomaly: a man without a magical fibre in his being. No ability could survive contact with him: from his childhood he had walked in a bubble of mundane reality, left sitting alone on the ground while a tree lifted his friends in its branches, speaking dogs clamming up into resentful silence at his presence, the flying ball that skimmed before a chase of laughing children falling inert to the ground at his touch

As he’d grown older he’d discovered he could make a bottomless flask of whisky turn up rattling and empty and the dancing pictures conjured by a barroom storyteller flicker to meaningless static; he’d made more enemies than he cared to count jostling elbows at a crowded counter and inadvertently stripping the glamour from a man or woman of irrestistible charm.

His stubborn resistance irked him, inevitably, when he had to put up with a minor injury Goody couldn’t cure, when his houseplants withered and died without Teddy’s ministrations, when he saw Faraday roll cheerfully through a wave of green lights which flicked relentlessly to red as Sam approached.

But in a world where everyone manifested some ability, useful or entertaining, the man who stood apart had power of his own. Sam could take pride in an exceptional career in law enforcement: he was the man who could clap a hand on the shoulder of a burglar and enjoy the dawning horror as his super-speed deserted him, the man in whose presence the lies of a con artist would fall clunking and flat from his tongue, the man who could walk confidently through a fog of confusion and slap the cuffs on the crime lord at its heart. Mundane and flat his world might be, but Sam served Justice, and served her well.

‘You can touch them and make it wear off.’

‘Well, yes….’ Sam temporised, but Goody had already set aside the lid of the vivarium and was making frog-coaxing noises to draw Billy out. ‘I’d best put him on the sofa, the coffee table won’t take his weight…’

Sam put a restraining hand on his arm. ‘Goody, wait a minute.’

Goody’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Wait? It’s been days. I can’t imagine what he’s been going through: he’s been eating insects.’

‘Have you really thought this through?’

Goody made a sudden grab inside the tank and turned to him, hands cupped over his amphibian husband. ‘I’ve been doing nothing but think. All you have to do is touch him and he’ll be human again.’

‘It’s not that…’ Sam pressed himself backwards against the cushions, but Goody pursued him. ‘Here.’

With an inward sigh Sam caved. ‘Put him down, then.’

Goody opened his hands and Billy hopped co-operatively onto the cushion; Sam extended a finger and – flunch! – there was humanBilly sitting between them, rather dishevelled and slightly dazed.

‘Sweetheart,’ cried Goody, folding him enthusiastically into his embrace. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Gkk.’ Billy coughed and swallowed, then looked as though he wished he hadn’t.

‘I knew you’d fix it!’ Over Billy’s shoulder Goody’s face radiated joy; he pulled back to run his hands solicitously over Billy’s arms. ‘How do you feel? Did I do anything wrong?’

Billy stuck his tongue out experimentally, squinting at it, then held up his hand for examination. Goody folded his own around it and drew Billy back again to kiss his brow. He looked at Sam, still sitting at Billy’s side. ‘Could you … give us a minute?’

‘No,’ said Sam.

Goody’s brow creased as Billy struggled from his embrace to frown at the vivarium. ‘It’s been a week: we could use a little privacy. Wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.’

‘You don’t understand,’ began Sam, but Goody rose to his feet. ‘Then excuse us – Billy and I will go and you can get started on the others.’

Billy was still touching the tank tentatively; Goody took his hand and tugged him gently away. ‘Come with me, sweetheart, let me see you’re not–’

Billy took four obedient steps from the sofa, then - zap! - disappeared. Sam and Goody looked down together: where he had been standing was once more a tiny blue frog.

‘No,’ gasped Goody, falling to his knees. ‘No, no, no.’

‘I was trying to explain-‘ started Sam.

‘Quick,’ begged Goody, ‘touch him again!’

Sam heaved reluctantly to his feet. ‘This isn’t going to…’ Oh, why bother? Goody wasn’t going to listen. He squatted down and extended a finger again.

Flunch! There was humanBilly again, swaying a little. ‘I think,’ he said, voice rusty from disuse, ‘I’d like this to stop happening.’ He tried to scratch his eye with his foot and toppled over onto the carpet.

‘Sorry,’ said Sam with a pang of guilt. He jumped to his feet before Goody could stop him and headed for the door.

Zap!

Goody let out a wail of despair as frogBilly hopped away and Sam took advantage of his distraction to duck into the hallway. ‘Goody, you have to listen. He’ll only stay human as long as I’m here, right next to him.’

There was a flurry from the living room and Goody reappeared, hands cupped protectively. ‘Then stay in contact with him.’

Sam backed away, hands raised defensively, but Goody followed him step by step. ‘What happens when I need to go home?’

‘You can stay,’ objected Goody, extending Billy’s diminutive blue form towards him; Sam felt a doorway behind him and retreated into its shelter.

‘What am I going to do, move in with you? Sleep in your bed so he doesn’t change back at night?

‘You could…’ began Goody optimistically, but Sam mustered his severest tone.

‘Neither of us wants you to finish that sentence. Besides, what about Josh and Ale? And Jack? Bedroom would be a mite crowded.

He’d been backing away from the door while he was speaking, but a sudden chill against his calves brought him up short. Brorp! bellowed something behind him, bass and echoing; Sam let out what he later hoped was a manly shriek and leapt for the door again.

‘Goody, see reason,’ he pleaded. ‘You heard him say it, he doesn’t want to keep transforming.’ For a moment there was silence, then he heard Goody’s footsteps retreating down the corridor.

Sam watched as Goody deposited Billy into the vivarium again with trembling hands, then clicked the lid back into place, ‘I’m sorry, Goody, truly I am, but I’m not the solution to this problem.’

Goody rounded on him, wild-eyed. ‘Not the solution? If you can’t fix this, who can?’

‘Just let me-‘ he began, but all at once the look of woe on Goody’s face was replaced by one of resolute determination.

‘I’m going up to the roof,’ he announced

Sam blenched. ‘Now Goody, I know this is all very distressing, but there’s no call for-‘

‘I am going,’ said Goody through gritted teeth, ‘to speak to Red. He knows where she lives.’

‘That’s a much better idea,’ agreed Sam at once, ‘I’m sure if we approach her like reaso-‘

Goody seized him by the shoulders, cutting him off. ‘You have to promise to bring me home again after.’

‘Huh?’ Why was he permanently on the losing side of this conversation?

‘If she won’t turn Billy human again, I can surely annoy her until she turns me into a frog. Swear to me that you’ll put me in the vivarium with him.’

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Goody, this is not….’

‘Swear it!’ Goody struck a melodramatic pose in front of the tank. ‘I love Billy, and I’ll do anything it takes to be with him again. I don’t care if I’m a frog for the rest of my life, as long as-‘

‘What kind of frog will you be, have you considered that?’ interrupted Sam.

‘What?’ asked Goodnight, derailed.

Sam gestured around. ‘Everyone’s different, even I can see that: Billy’s a poison dart frog, you said Jack’s a bullfrog and Ale I’m guessing is a Mexican tree frog.’

‘So?’

‘So if she does agree to frog you, you don’t know what species you’ll be: you might not even be compatible with Billy. We’d have to keep you in separate tanks.’ Goody turned pale, and Sam pressed his advantage. ‘What if she turns you into a bayou bullfrog? You’d probably try to eat him.

‘I would not eat my husband!’ declared Goody, outraged, ‘he’s poisonous,’ but nevertheless he sagged in defeat.

‘I’ll fix this, I promise.’ Sam squeezed his dejected friend’s shoulder, trying to project a confidence he didn’t feel. ‘I won’t let you down. Just give me a chance to tackle it my way.’

#mag7 #the magnificent seven #box of frogs #only sam chisolm can stop this madness #or at least you'd have thought #will this fic ever end?

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miathecinnabunny · 5 years ago

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Apartment 42 -- A BuckyNat AU

Master and rival assassins unknowingly live together for almost a year, making sure their real jobs remain a secret from each other and everyone around them.

Chapter 11

"I never told you because I was afraid of this. I knew you were the Widow a week before Christmas at least. I thought about telling you every day, but I was sure youd react horribly and I'd lose you."

Natalia hugged herself and looked up at James. "You mentioned nightmares . . . what were they about?"

"You," James said, "you dying. Various ways. All very terrible, very traumatising. Josef, the one that attacked us on Christmas eve, he features in a lot of them."

"How do I die? In your nightmares."

James shrugged. "Oh, you know . . . impaled, beheaded, shot in the head, shot in the heart, stabbed in the heart, ambush, rain of bullets from Hydra agents, starved, tortured, the works."

Natalia's eyebrows rose. "Any of them have your hand in it?"

"One," James admitted. He frowned at the carpet of Natalia's current bedroom. "Hydra can do this . . . thing. I'm not sure what it is. It's new. I don't remember what happens in between. I hear some agents talking. Says it turns me into a machine, obeying every order. They call it effective. Really bad nights are the ones where they use it and I come back to your dead body. I never know what happened, but I know I did it. It -- it -- sometimes it's really bad. Sometimes it's a clean shot. Sometimes you're covered in bruises. I -- I don't want to talk about it."

Natalia walked up to James and took his hands in hers. "Don't. Just . . . do you love me? Do you really love me?"

James tightened his hands around hers. "More than anything or anyone I've ever known."

"How much?"

James offered her a small smile. "Completely, doll."

Natalia watched him carefully. "I want to believe you but I know myself, and I know that I would lie to me. I don't know."

"I don't expect you to, doll, I just need to let you know that I stopped chasing the Widow the day I met you outside our apartment. I only realised it that night. I just need you to know that you're what I'm going to miss. One way or another, this is going to end. Either I succeed, or you succeed. But either way, we won't get to stay here. When Hydra takes me back, you're what I'm going to miss. You, with your bright smile, your twinkling eyes, your infectious laugh. You and your annoying habit of being unable to remember where anything goes, that horrified face you make when you taste your own cooking, the fact that your bras somehow manage to hang from the top of the fridge and finding heels in the freezer, that stupid face you make everytime I suggest cleaning the apartment, when you curse under your breath in Russian and you think I can't hear, the fact that you hate the toothpaste I buy, when you want attention and you'll do anything to get it, those little ballet moves you subconsciously do when you actually get cleaning --"

Natalia shut him up quickly by lifting up on tiptoes and briefly brushing her lips over his. She leaned against him, using his arms for support as she stayed balancing on her toes. "Love me," she whispered.

"How much?" James asked without hesitation.

"Completely," she said, silently daring him to deny her.

///////////////

"I see the two of you have ironed things out," Ana commented when James joined them at breakfast in the courtyard.

"At least you didn't have to hear them ironing until three in the morning," Maria grumbled, snapping her toast in half.

James hid his face behind a mug while Natalia pretended like she hadn't just choked on her coffee.

"I only got back with Howard at one," Natalia said, turning her nose up, "your husband is to blame for how late it was."

"Oh?" Maria said, raising an eyebrow. "Am I to assume that the two of you wouldn't have been slamming the ironing board against the wall if Howard had come home earlier?"

"We would've done it in our own apartment," James muttered.

Anthony cleared his throat. "Can we please not discuss your sex life in front of my oats?"

"Sorry, darling," Natalia said, "but this is all on your mother."

"Tallie!"

"What? You started with me!"

James laughed softly and pulled her closer, chair and all, to kiss her cheek. "You're so childish, doll."

Anthony rolled his eyes. "You watch too many old movies, Uncle Jamie. Who even calls other people 'doll' anymore?"

"Why not?" James asked, grinning.

"It sounds so . . . blergh. Like I just imagine one of those porcelain creeps with Aunt Tal's face on them. Eugh."

"Anthony Edward Stark, did you just subtly call me ugly?"

"What? No!"

"Besides," James said, "I've barely seen any movies, let alone old ones."

"No, I don't mean old black-and-white stuff. I mean like, movies set in like really old times. Like that stupid World War 2 romance movie where that soldier got drafted and in all his letters home, he called that girl 'doll' and then when he got back, he realised he forgot her name. . ."

While Anthony rambled on about the movie that truthfully sounded like she would have seen it, Peggy's mind drifted. There was something nagging her. She just couldn't put her finger on it. It bugged her the entire day, as well as the next.

///////////////

"Jamie! Hello, love!"

"Evening, Peggy," James said, leaving Ana to greet Peggy. "All good?"

"Yes, why?"

"You're . . . bouncing. You never bounce. Uh, is Natalia back yet?"

Peggy's eyebrows lifted, as if she'd just realised something. "No! They're still out. Howard's got something big going on at work these days so he spends a lot of time there. Anyway, come with me. I've got something I want to ask you."

"No problem," James said, offering Pegyy his arm.

"Why, thank you, Sergeant Barnes."

She hadn't called him that since the day they'd met in the hospital and James had almost forgotten he reminded Peggy of someone in her past. Still, he didn't call attention to it. People made mistakes all the time.

Peggy walked until they were in Howard's study where she was sure they wouldn't be disturbed. "Jamie, I want to know a few things from you."

"Uh, sure. What's up?"

"What's your full name?"

James laughed slightly, grinning until he realised Peggy was serious. "James Buchanan Barnes. Why?"

"What is the name of the person you know best and what is the name of the person who knows the most about you?"

"Oh, that's easy, they're both Natalia."

"Jamie, do you even know your birthday?"

"Yeah. It's tenth March."

Peggy stepped closer to James. "What year?" she asked softly. "In what year were you born?"

"Peg, what's going on with you?"

"You don't know, do you?"

"Of course I know! It's nineteen--! Uh. . ."

Peggy stared at James for a second. "Seventeen. You were born in 1917, Jamie. You served in the war. You died in the war. Your best friend was Steve Rogers. You had three little sisters and you all lived with your parents. You and your family was all Steve had. You . . . you were my best friend too."

James stared at Peggy. "You're joking. You're making it up."

"Why would I make this up, Jamie? Do you really think I'm that desperate to have something to hold on to from some of the best days in my life?"

"Peg . . . it doesn't make sense. Look at you! Look at me! I don't look anything near your age!"

"I don't know how it happened, Jamie, but I know that once upon a time, you used to be Bucky Barnes. You used to braid my hair, you used to make the best tea I ever had, you used to always say that you'd bring me home so the girls could meet their older sister, you said we would all make it out of the war, you said you would help Howard with that stupid car, you said you were gonna get me married to Steve, you said so many things and then you went and DIED!"

James just managed to dodge Peggy's left hook.

"Peggy Carter, what is wrong with you?!"

"You promised you'd help us win the war and we had to do it without you!"

"That wasn't me, Peggy!"

"Bullshit, Barnes! What's stopping you from remembering me?"

James's jaw dropped. "My memory is the biggest problem you have with this theory of yours?! If I'm really your best friend, I should be looking like you!"

"Theory?!" Peggy cried, "I know you're Bucky and I pray that it's not too late when you remember!"

///////////////

Peggy's outburst sat on James's mind for days.

"What's on your mind, darling?" Natalia asked one afternoon, leaning over James's shoulder to steal a few fries.

"Nothing, doll," James lied, smiling and snatching one of the fries from her hand with his mouth. "Stop stealing my food."

Natalia rolled her eyes and grabbed two more before sitting across James. "Don't lie to me, darling, you're not that good at it."

James debated lying again, but decided she was right. Once she'd looked past the Winter Soldier, she stopped being blind to all his little lies too. Not that the reverse wasn't true.

"Hydra wants you."

Natalia froze with her hand over the fries. "What?"

"Hydra wants me to recruit you."

"You can't recruit me. I'm Red Room!"

"Try telling that to Karpov. He's a bitch when he wants to be."

Natalia rolled her eyes. "Maybe he and Barkova are siblings."

"Barkova?"

"Madame B, her name is Vladimira Barkova. Didn't you know?"

"No. Should I have?"

Natalia shrugged. "Maybe not. Anyway, how would Hydra even manage that? Madame B doesn't let her students and agents go that easy."

"Well, Karpov never explained that bit, but I'm pretty sure he's not talking about getting Madame's permission for this."

Natalia pulled her hand back and slumped into a normal seated position in her chair. "Hydra wants me to ditch the Red Room," she said, "as if I were trying to escape."

James nodded. "I believe so. There are numerous ways we could do that and I'm sure you've run through them all already, knowing that none would work but. . ."

"James, are you actually considering this?"

"Yes, Natalia. I am. Because I don't want to spend the rest of my life running, looking over my shoulder. I don't want that for me and I sure as hell don't want it for you. Do you think things have gotten better because we know about each other? No! It's probably gotten worse! Because when this is over, Hydra's going to take me back and wipe my memory. I won't remember you. I won't be able to miss you. And worst of all, I'll hate you all over again! I won't remember loving you! And you! You won't get that luxury. You'll have to see me hating you while remembering a time when I loved you! Knowing you, you'd stand your ground and you'd let me shoot you! Because I know me, and I know I'd rather die trying to save you than fight you to survive. If we do this," James had stood up and now leaned on the table, palms on either side of his forgotten food, "there is a chance that won't happen. There's a chance at a life for us. We'd be partners. We'd be together. Hydra isn't saving us, but it would protect you from the Red Room."

Natalia blinked very slowly. "I can't kill Howard," she whispered, "I can't do that to them."

"You don't have to do it. You just have to let me."

"I can't -- I can't let you kill Howard. I -- he's my mission!"

"And mine."

Natalia shook her head, trying to find her footing in this whole disaster.

"And one way or another, doll, one of us is going to have to lose this mission."

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Masterpost

#apartment 42 #fanfiction #marvel #90s #au #buckynat #tony stark #peggy carter #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff

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freigaeist · 7 years ago

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lantern, fog and bonfireeeeeeeeeee ^_^

hallo mon 🐻

lantern - how did you meet your best friend? What were your first impressions of each other?

oh god what a cute question i love this one!!! for my fem bff, it was during 5th grade, we were both closer to other people and didn’t really think anything of the other? i think we met up with other people and the other was present or had some group project, but we started playing lion king in the school yard, me being very serious and dedicated abt it, she not so much giving herself the name of a german celebrity called Dieter Bohlen and running around messing up my serious game....... we then started sneaking out of the school yard and tried to get further and further each time (it was always like just a few metres onto the parking lot and it was quite ridiculous we thought we were soooo badass lmao) and in the end got caught and ofc didn’t continue that silly game but after that we were kind of officially the two kinda weird kinda in their own world bffs?? she wore super colorful bright clothes at that time, she was crazy and active and chatty but in the loveliest way and she opened up my crazy side and made me feel good being myself and we both had a passion for writing and drawing and until today we’re very close and i guess she’ll always play a role in this stage play that is my life :’

for my male bff, he was a friend of my fem bffs former boyfriend and my bff wanted us to be A Thing back then. he awkwardly tried to get out of the friendzone, i desperately tried to not get a foot in the girlfriendzone. in the end he got together with my fem bff, we stayed in the best friends zone and he’s my male counterpart. he’s warm and caring and crazy and super intelligent and a big cozy teddy bear and i love him and should take better care of him on a sidenote!

and because i can’t leave this without mentioning my flatmate because she’s FRIEND and i LOVE HER: me met through tumbleur, funnily enough!! there was this map showing people with shared interests in your area and we were like SUPER CLOSE bc i lived in a town close to her city and she picked up the courage to write me and if she didn’t i wouldn’t be where i am today. i am so incredibly and endlessly grateful, because after meeting once we met constantely and in the end searched for a flat together and that was five years ago! she’s an introvert and i still wanna smooch her whole face thanking her for writing me first and for investing sm in our friendship and shared life, she’s someone that i don’t want to miss anymore. she makes me feel energetic and wanting to do things, she let’s me take care of her, she opens up to me and allows me to be my silly self and that is rare in people, it really is. i love her lots and hope we’ll stay close friends for(ever) a very long time. no, make it forever bc i’m a believer :

fog - already answered!

bonfire - describe your dream house.

on a sitenote: i love the word bonfire. it’s so cool!!!! okay where were we- ah yes, my dream house. i’d probably go for an old house and work a bit on it rather than building a new one bc i’m a sucker for everything old and vintage, for things covered in fingerprints and filled with life, old and dusty. i imagine dark wood that smells like coffee and books, maybe the scent of a wet dog and children, high ceilings and rooms filled with the laughter of friends, family and children. there’s sunlight reaching through windows, golden and warm and the walls are a warm color as is the furniture. like i said, dark woods and warm red, ocher, dark greens and browns. there’s plants and stuff lying around; open books and (fake) fur blankets. there’s candles and wooden toys, maybe a silly bright colored and totally badly proportioned barbie doll i bought my child bc they had no other wish this year for christmas eugh. there’s not too much of a mess but enough to make it feel like life is happening. there’s space, but not too much bc i’m not a person of luxury and i imagine my partner not being too wealthy, too, our priorities lay elsewhere. there’s a garden, there must be a garden and a space that is just mine like a garden house where i can write and paint and be myself when i don’t like myself and don’t want to share my bad self. it’s either in a small town or just out of the heart of the city. it’s close to some family or friends. it’s open for family and friends, for animals and children. it’s friendly and warm and it’s partially me and that’s why i love being there and feel like i don’t have to travel the world too much anymore.

thank you for sending some in!!! have a lovely day, sweetcake, and take care of yourself :

autumnal asks

#ahh now i got so excited for the future talking abt my dream house!!!!!! it'll be awesome #wHEN CAN I BECOME OLDER HURRY UP SELF GET EDUCATED GET YOUR DREAM JOB GET YOUR FAM!!#i'm such a taurus moon can you tell? :'< )#thank you!#jonghyoongi

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theburglcr · 8 years ago

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“Finders keepers, suckers!” note: i haven’t added a quote for every single thing in the game, but it’s still a long read. i mostly just came up with the relatively ‘important’ quotes. that said, please enjoy.

Shovel- “Truly my best friend.” Pickaxe- “I love the rocky irony here.” Razor- “This is why people don’t have beards.” Hammer- “Any work well done just begs for a load of this.” Lucy the Axe- “Between you and me, he thinks ya look sharp.” Feather Pencil- “My grammar is better than most.” Brush- “Never been the hairdressin’ sort, myself.” Saddle- “But is it comfortable for the animal?” Salt Lick- “Don’t taste-test, don’t taste-test...” Miner Hat- “Never thought I’d find one again!” Endothermic Fire- “All sense is gone along with the darkness.” Mushlight- “Will my stomach glow if I eat this?” Willow’s Lighter- “I should never be trusted with this.” Bottle Lantern- “My brightest idea so far.” Buoyant Chiminea- “Water can’t steal the fire from me now.” Backpack- “Imagine all the money you can fit in there.” Piggyback- “Here’s hopin’ it’s not as sweaty.” Bug Net- “What a fearsome, vicious hunter I am.” Fishing Rod- “I hope to catch hidden treasure with this.” Straw Roll- “Sleepin’ with straw gettin’ in your clothes. Great.” Fur Roll- “This feels morbid somehow.” Umbrella- “Not today, elements.” Compass (generic)- “Wish it could point me towards treasure.” Luxury Fan- “I bet I could fly with two of these.” Siesta Lean-to- “I’m a shade master.” Pretty Parasol- “Frilly, but will do.” Telltale Heart- “Why do I hafta fix them if they mess up?” Booster Shot- “Rot injected through a bee stinger. Healthy!” Water Balloon- “Takin’ a bath the fun way.” Whirly Fan- “The things I do for a lil’ coolin’...” Bernie- “Ya don’t look like you’d be worth much.” Bundled Supplies- “Oh hoh! The thrill this brings me!” Booty Bag- “Where have ya been all my life!?” Silly Monkey Ball- “The humane solution to their meddlin’.” Anti-Venom- “Tropical insurance.” Crock Pot- “I ain’t no cook, but it should help me.” Bee Box- “They work hard, then I steal from them.” Bucket-o-Poop- “Ew. Good thing I wear gloves.” Science Machine and Alchemy Engine- “This is where the magic happens.” Thermal Measurer- “Let’s see the cold sneak up on me now.” Lightning Rod- “Never hurts to lessen the chances.” Gunpowder- “No safe is too strong!” Cartographer’s Desk- “Closest thing to an artistic outlet.” Accomploshrine- “I don’t know what I did, but I did it?” Spear- “I miss my daggers.” Boomerang- “A loyal weapon if I’ve ever seen one.” -- (hit self)- “$!@#! That smarts!” Blow Dart- “I ain’t no coward, but when in Rome...” Fire Dart- “Fear the albino dragon!” Sleep Dart- “Should I worry if I yawn after usin’ this?” Football Helmet- “I’m wearin’ the pig’s butt as a hat.” Grass Suit- “... Sure this will protect me.” Log suit- “I’m not on board with being hurt. Heh.” Marble Suit- “This armor’s the direct opposite of what I am.” Bee Mine- “Boom, bees.” Tooth Trap- “Come get a piece of me now, doggies!” Shelmet- “Function over fashion...” Snurtle Shell Armor- “A less dignified way to hide from trouble.” Scale Mail- “I’m this hot on my own, thanks.” Electric Dart- “Can’t come up with a joke. I’m shocked.” Tail o’ Three Cats- “I’m not even using it and I feel sorry already.” Spear Gun- “Now this is more my style!” Trident- “This means mermaids exist around here, right?” Cactus Spike- “Like my daggers, but much weaker. Shame.” Cactus Armor- “Always been told I’m kind of a prick.” Birdcage- “Reminds me of jail.” -- (occupied)- “I know the feelin’.” Pig House- “Wait, does this mean they have stuff inside?” Chest- “To store my stolen goods.” Scaled Chest- “Summer ain’t gettin’ to me or my stuff.” Mini Sign (drawn on)- “What? I’m an artist too, ya know.” Friendly Scarecrow- “His smile looks like my mom’s.” Wardrobe- “If it’s purely green on the inside, that wasn’t me.” Potted Succulent- “Her name is Erikita.” Sand Castle- “Totally sure this is not a waste of time.” Seaworthy (Vanilla or ROG world)- “Buenas!” Sea Chest- “Bring your stuff everywhere ya go.” Rope- “I use this often.” Purple Gem- “The downfall of the greedy.” Nightmare Fuel- “This stuff makes me uneasy.” Marble Bean- “Is there a money bean, too?” Empty Bottle- “Not very interesting on its own.” Prestihatitator- “Prestowhat now?” Shadow Manipulator- “Not sure I should be anywhere near this thing.” Pan Flute- “Makes pickpocketin’ so much easier.” Night Light- “See to $!@# believe.” Dark Sword- “Knew I had a sharp mind, but this...” Chilled Amulet- “So this is what cool people use, huh?” Nightmare Amulet- “Makes me see what I shouldn’t see.” Life Giving Amulet- “Could make a pretty penny off of it!” Telelocator Staff- “Probably dumb to mess with this. I’m doin’ it anyway.” Old Bell- “Do the work for me, big fella.” Moon Dial- “I’ve been mooned. Heh.” Piratihatitator- “Para... Piri... MAGIC $!@#!” Straw Hat- “This’ll prevent fires from startin’ on my head.” Beefalo Hat- “Convenient humiliation.” Beekeeper Hat- “I look honest in my stealin’ with this.” Feather Hat- “Probably the most colorful I’ll ever look.” Top Hat- “Rich people headwear. I hate it.” Puffy Vest- “I’m warm, but at what cost...?” Bush Hat- “Disguise 101.” Garland- “How to look pure and unsuspectin’.” Cat Cap- “I’m sorry, kitties...” Fashion Melon- “All the green doesn’t make it less embarrassin’.” Floral Shirt- “This one was made for me.” Eyebrella- “Rain is in the eye of the beholder.” Desert Goggles- “Got somethin’ in my eye... just kiddin’.” Blubber Suit- “Eugh! It’s noisy!” Windbreaker- “I’ll stop giggling when I forget its name.” Particulate Purifier- “For when chili night gets outta hand.” Shark Tooth Crown- “Bet I can impress the mermaids with this.” Dumbrella- “More like... oh, wait.” Log Raft- “I mean... nah, can’t defend this.” Raft- “It’s a slight improvement.” Armoured Boat- “Safe piratin’.” Iron Wind- “Doubles as shark chopper, too!” Boat Cannon- “Can’t be a proper pirate without this.” Sea Trap- “One step closer to a fancy dinner.” Trawl Net- “To steal junk from the sea.” Super Spyglass- “Could only dream to see this far until now.” Captain Hat- “Makes me feel like a sea cop. Feh.” Pirate Hat- “Ahoy, ye scallywags!” Obsidian Machete and Obsidian Axe- “Hot and sharp, much like me.” Obsidian Coconade- “I can feel it burn with anticipation.” Sail Stick- “To sail away from my problems faster.” Thulecite- “My highly valuable object senses are tinglin’.” Thulecite Medallion- “Ain’t useful here.” -- (calm)- “Nothin’ worth notin’.” -- (warning)- “Woah, something’s happenin’.” -- (nightmare)- “But what does it mean?” The Lazy Forager- “Nobody can blame me for snatchin’ their stuff now!” Magiluminescence- “I’m brilliant. Heh.” Construction Amulet- “Of course the green gem is the most economic one.” The Lazy Explorer- “Catch me if ya can!” Star Caller’s Staff- “Do the stars grant wishes too or...?” Deconstruction Staff- “ ‘Tis like a magic hammer.” Thulecite Crown- “Should be worth a fortune!” Houndius Shootius- “Those ancient guys were geniuses.” Birds of the World- “I like the tauraco leucotis one.” Applied Horticulture- “Good, I’m no farmer.” Sleepytime Stories- “I can’t tell if it bores me or it’s workin’.” The End is Nigh!- “Good thing I enjoy readin’ during storms.” On Tentacles- “I’ve read enough on them to know where this is goin’.” Joy of Volcanology- “Adds more than a lil’ spice to your current situation.” Kittykit- “Cute and clever, just like its momma.” Vargling- “Cachorrito!!!” Ewelet- “Smelly but soft.” Broodling- “Gosh, so ugly yet so endearin’.” Glomglom- “I ain’t one for hugs, but you’re just so fluffy.” Giblet- “Always wanted to have a chicken.” Candy Bag- “I wanna fill it to the brim with chocolate coins.” Gift- “The best things are the ones ya don’t hafta pay for.” Winter’s Feast Tree- “I feel something growin’ three sizes inside of me! Is it my wallet?” Lucky Whistle- “I HAVE THE POWER!” Charcoal- “Oh. Christmas came early.” Pine Cone- “I stole that tree’s baby. Nice.” Marble Tree- “Okay, now gold trees must be a thing.” Totally Normal Tree- “Tremblin’ like a leaf here. Heh.” Living Log- “Same.” Flower- “Green with a dash of pretty.” Evil Flower- “Green with a dash of evil...?” Cactus- “That one’s still got its daggers.” Tumbleweed- “Let’s see the trash it’s collected!” Jungle Tree- “Sensin’ lots of loot from that tree!” Snake Den- “I can hear ya hissin’, ya know.” Brainy Sprout- “The sea’s got a comparatively tiny brain.” Palm Tree (sapling)- “I’m callin’ ya Rosie.” Regular Jungle Tree- “You’re goin’ down like a sack of bricks.” Beehive- “It contains sweet, delicious treasure.” Killer Bee Hive- “Heck no.” Hound Mound- “Those barkin’ pests come from there.” Bones- “Mine will not be found like this.” Harp Statue- “Unlikely as it sounds, I don’t have the head.” Rundown House- “If you’re gonna steal an idea, make it better at least.” Merm Head- “My nose begs for mercy.” Pig Head- “This world does make ya lose your head...” Boulder- “Destruction comes with a reward.” Gold Nugget- “I might’ve been a hero in a world without this.” Grave- “Time to work!” Grave (dug)- “A job well done.” Wooden Thing- “It feels... incomplete.” -- (fully assembled)- “Long as I can take my gold with me.” Ring Thing- “What use is a ring with no jewels?” Worm Hole- “Disgust and logic say no...” -- (open)- “... Morbid curiosity says yes.” -- (exited)- “Disgust and logic were right.” Skeleton- “Thanks for the free stuff, man.” Spider Eggs- “Wonder if I can teach them to pickpocket?” Walrus Camp- “Gives a rich Walrus vibe somehow.” Mini Glacier- “Wonder how many ‘cool’ jokes it gets.” Hollow Stump- “It’s fulla hairballs on the inside.” Glommer’s Statue- “Looks important and exploitable.” -- (mined)- “Hope it was neither.” Skeleton (self)- “I meant to do that.” Florid Postern- “Got the feelin’ its beauty is just for show.” Magma- “Great, more things to be burned by.” Stagehand- “Far too pretty and harmless. I don’t trust it.” -- (walking)- “I’m always right.” Loot Stash- “Nobody leaves something like this all on its own.” Prime Ape Hut- “My old room pales in comparison to that disaster.” Magma Pile- “Now if that doesn’t beg to be dug up...” Steamer Trunk- “The sea smiles upon me today!” Volcano- “Dangerous. Something valuable must be inside.” Slot Machine- “I know better than to linger ‘round this.” Electric Isosceles- “For the insanely lazy explorer.” Octo Chest- “We’ve made a fair trade, friend.” Debris- “Ain’t proud of that one.” Wildbore Head- “Looks mad he’s dead.” Seashell- “One of these’s gotta have a pearl inside.” X Marks the Spot- “My fingers itch in anticipation!” Rawling- “I’m deranged enough, I guess.” Watery Grave- “That’s one heckuva way to die. Hah-hah!” Wreck- “I can wreck it all the more.” Volcano Staff- “If only it made it rain money instead.” Plugged Sinkhole- “A poor attempt at hidin’ a hole.” Rope to Surface- “Shame some sunlight is neccessary.” Splumonkey Pod- “Imagine all the valuable junk they’re unaware they have.” Odd Skeleton (complete)- “Well, curiosity sated. Or is it...” Ancient Statue- “Now that’s one statue worth a million.” Ancient Pseudoscience Station- “A museum would pay a lot for this, probably.” Ornate Chest- “How temptin’! It must be a trap.” Large Ornate Chest- “Outside matches the inside.” Nightmare Light- “Shouldn’t be ‘round this, however convenient it is.” Ancient Chest- “My greed is far too great to leave it alone.” Ancient Murals: -- (first)- “Those guys sure look miserable.” -- (second)- “Can’t read this...” -- (third)- “What’s that covering them? Ink?” -- (fourth)- “Eww! What the heck!” -- (fifth)- “What was that all about?!” Coffee Plant- “I did not expect these to grow here.” Elephant Cactus- “Dagger-filled cactus ready to fire!” Obsidian- “Almost sure this costs as much as it did to get.” Charcoal Boulder- “I’d save Santa some work if I mined this.” Burnt Ash Tree- “What did ya expect?” Dragoon Den- “Looks like the ideal thieves den if I’ve ever seen one.” Woodlegs’ Cage- “Nobody’s gonna be left behind bars while I’m around!” Clockwork Knight- “A knight of shinin’ metal.” Clockwork Bishop- “Never been the religious type.” Clockwork Rook- “Can hear it stomp from all the way over here.” Charlie (the darkness monster)- “Who’s there?” Charlie (attacked by)- “$!@#! Ya coward!” Hound- “Stand back! Don’t make me run!” Red Hound- “They’re fireproof now!?” Blue Hound- “They send a chill down my spine!” Hound’s Tooth- “I’m not tremblin’, you’re tremblin’.” Krampus- “You’re not even sneaky. Bad thief!” Krampus Sack- “Ah, a proper sack for a burglar.” Tentacle Spots- “Be right back, burnin’ my gloves.” Big Tentacle- “Surface doesn’t seem so bad all of a sudden.” Werepig- “I thought I could trust ya!!!” Ghost- “This time ya might just disappear.” Tam o’ Shanter- “No newsy cap, but still nice.” Mosquito- “If ya steal my blood, I’ll steal yours. Fair warning.” Mosquito Sack- “Didn’t think I could take my threat literally...” Cave Spider- “Now that’s just unfair.” Spitter- “Can’t blame it. They’re uglier up close.” Batilisk- “Yeesh, it looks so full of hate.” Meat Bulb- “Thinks it can trick me. How cute.” Fleshy Bulb- “My personal, living trap.” Eyeplant- “The plant spies with its little eyes.” Slurper- “It leeches off my lunch. Yuck.” Dangling Depth Dweller- “If they weren’t so aggressive, I’d adopt one.” Depths Worm (lure)- “Something’s very off ‘bout that.” Varg- “No! No! No no NO!” Ewecus- “Walkin’ ball of wool and gross.” Floaty Boaty Knight- “Great, the mechanical navy is here.” Poison Mosquito- “Ya can keep the poison, thanks.” Stink Ray- “Woah, man! What’s that funky smell?” Swordfish- “This fish got its own natural dagger.” White Whale- “All white, fearsome and hates everything. Like me!” Dragoon- “Sadly, they’re not intelligent enough for a truce.” Killer Bee- “Okay, I get it. I should buzz off.” Pig (normal)- “I could mug him if needed.” -- (follower)- “I’ll teach ya to steal for me.” Bunnyman- “A white ball of adorable. Like me!” Bunny Puff- “Hope they can forgive me.” Frog- “Rana o sapo?” Rock Lobster- “Well hello, potential bodyguard.” Pengull- “Lookit all that meat waddlin’ about.” Splumonkey- “Stealin’ from the thief. The nerve!” Catcoon- “I appreciate its eye mask.” Volt Goat- “I want one.” -- (charged)- “Maybe gettin’ one can wait.” Blue Whale- “Is it cryin’? Nope, just wet.” Bottlenose Ballphin- “I love you so much.” Prime Ape- “More like a prime pain in the $!@#.” Wildbore- “Doesn’t look like someone ya can steal from.” Gobbler- “Only I steal food ‘round here!” Chester- “A burglar’s second best friend.” Mandrake (planted)- “Should be picky with this one. Heh.” Glommer- “I want a statue for doin’ nothing, too.” Grass Gekko- “Your tail is grass and I’m gonna mow it.” Hutch- “There’s empty space where its brain should be.” Canary (poisoned)- “Keep your distance.” Shifting Sands- “Sure, hide like I do- I mean a coward!” Sharkitten- “One day you’ll grow up to be as fearsome as me.” Packim Baggims- “Stop hoardin’ my fish.” Parrot Pirate- “A bird after my own heart.” Seagull- “We just want to survive. Am I right?” Doydoy- “I feel sorry enough for this thing not to kill it.” Fishermerm- “Finally, someone I can steal from without consequences!” Tallbird- “Something can only be so territorial over one thing.” Tallbird Nest (with egg)- “Looks cozy in there. I can fix that.” Tallbird Egg- “Could sell this as a dinosaur egg...” Hatching Tallbird Egg- “Am I gonna be a mom? I don’t wanna.” Smallbird- “Expected ya to have more leg. Huh.” -- (hungry) “Don’t have to regurgitate something for ya, do I?” Smallish Tallbird- “I ain’t tellin’ it about the birds and the bees.” Treeguard- “I stole too many tree lives.” Spider Queen- “Gonna need a bigger sandal.” Spiderhat- “Thinks whatever a spider can.” Deerclops- “Well, $!@# me.” Ancient Guardian- “Whatever it is you’re protectin’ will be mine.” Bearger- “A thief doesn’t share her food, bud.” Moose/Goose- “Sorry, I just haven’t laughed this hard in a while.” Moose/Goose Egg- “Can’t mess with something this big.” Mosling- “Curiosity is likely gonna kill the cat.” Dragonfly- “It was nice to meet me.” Bee Queen- “Gimme your sting, Imma give that thing right back.” Bee Queen Crown- “Fool bees, get honey.” Klaus- “Lookin’ different, Santa. New haircut?” Stag Antler- “Ya better be worth all that mess.” Toadstool- “This ain’t no prince!” Sporecap- “That thing just screams magic.” Reanimated Skeleton- “It should not be alive.” Ancient Fuelweaver- “Almost wish I didn’t have to bring ya down.” Bone Armor- “It protects a lot more than you’d think.” Bone Helm- “I’m scared of usin’ this...” Shadow Thurible- “Why does it smell like money?” Palm Treeguard- “Nothin’ a good bit of fire can’t fix.” Quacken- “The bigger they are, the more loot they give!” Chest of the Depths- “Seein’ this is very satisfying.” Sealnado- “Time to break some wind.” -- (seal form)- “Killin’ it would be easy. Far too easy.” Tiger Shark- “Tigre y tiburón... Tigreburón?” Maxwell- “He used my greed against me.” Pig King- “I can smell his richness from afar.” Wes (trapped)- “What do I get if I help ya?” Abigail- “Sucks to be you.” Bigfoot- “I need new pants.” Abigail (revival failed)- “I feel kinda sad it didn’t work. Just a little.” Antlion- “I know that face. The ‘I want your things’ face.” -- (upset)- “What did I do now?!” Yaarctopus- “Snazzy getup, man.” Egg- “Like a fragile chest with tasty treasure.” Monster Meat- “This is far from a good idea.” Morsel- “Meatling.” Leafy Meat- “I can make it tasty. Just leaf it to me.” Fish- “Dad used to eat these a lot.” Eel- “Think I’m feelin’ eel.” Winter Koalefant Trunk- “Looks warm and big enough for me to wear it...” Cooked Frog Legs- “How is this fancy food?” Dead Swordfish- “Could make a good weapon if it didn’t smell so bad.” Dead Jellyfish- “I’ve always liked jelly.” Cooked Limpets- “Should stick my pinky out while eatin’ these.” Shark Fin- “The pest’s hat.” Delicious Wobster- “Now this can be called a delicacy.” Bile-Covered Slop- “May as well eat manure.” Extra Smelly Durian- “Smell’s stronger than a corpse’s.” Halved Coconut- “For the true tropical experience.” Red Cap- “Never trust red fungi.” Green Cap- “Still hardly sane to consume.” Blue Cap- “Mixed feelings...” Cactus Flower- “I see flowers awfully often ‘round here.” Bacon and Eggs- “English breakfast is weird.” Butter Muffin- “Don’t think killin’ the butterfly was neccessary.” Dragonpie- “Hopefully not as hot as it looks.” Fishsticks- “I bet a cat would love this.” Fish Tacos- “And now they will swim in my tummy.” First Full of Jam- “It doesn’t help I’m a messy eater...” Froggle Bunwich- “A delicious blasphemy.” Fruit Medley- “More delicate-lookin’ than I’m used to.” Honey Ham- “Surprisingly, it works really well.” Honey Nuggets- “Oh... gonna enjoy every part of it.” Kabobs- “I’m a culinary genius.” Mandrake Soup- “I consider this a good idea somehow.” Meatballs- “Missed these so much!” Meaty Stew- “I’d be stewpid to let it go to waste.” Monster Lasagna- “Only dogs would like this.” Pierogi- “How do I even know how to make all these neat recipes?” Powdercake- “Wouldn’t even feed this to a dog. My prey, however...” Pumpkin Cookie- “Interesting. And tasty.” Ratatouille- “Used to eat this a lot back before all this.” Stuffed Eggplant- “It’s as fillin’ at it looks.” Taffy- “Good thing I don’t care that much ‘bout health.” Turkey Dinner- “I ain’t festive, but this deserves celebration.” Unagi- “Deelicious! Heh.” Waffles- “Always wanted to try these. Mmmm.” Wet Goop- “Somethin’ went wrong.” Flower Salad- “Yes, I’m eatin’ the flower too.” Guacamole- “Not baa-aa-aad.” Ice Cream- “Ahhh, so refreshin’.” Melonsicle- “Perfect to chill with.” Spicy Chili- “ ‘Tis what I call dragon food.” Trail Mix- “What’s that I hear? Is it... jealous gobblin’?” Jellybeans- “These fattened me up as a kid.” Banana Pop- “I stabbed this banana.” Bisque- “Picky in ingredients, but worth it.” California Roll- “Fancier than I’m used to.” Ceviche- “It’s funny to see other people try to pronounce it.” Coffee- “Not a huge fan.” Jelly-O Pop- “Wonder if I can make one with peanut butter?” Lobster Bisque- “Everyone goes nuts for this one.” Lobster Dinner- “Now this is the kinda rich people food I can get behind.” Seafood Gumbo- “Dad would have a ball with this.” Shark Fin Soup- “Don’t think I can eat it with a good conscience.” Surf ‘n’ Turf- “Sure’s got a fun name.” Fresh Fruit Crepes- “Wow, looks pretty.” Monster Tartare- “Eugh! If I really gotta.” Mussel Bouillabase- “Buy... bi... uh, food.” Sweet Potato Souffle- “Sorta looks like a big muffin.” Seeds- “Normally I steal what they produce...” Honey- “Sticks to my gloves.” Butterfly Wings- “The loot of a dead bug.” Butter- “... Well then.” Rot- “Nothing is eternal, I guess.” Rotten Egg- “Takes one to know another.” Phlegm- “I’m gonna hurl.” Blueprint- “Bet this’d burn nicely! Just kiddin’.” Gears- “It’s not murder if it ain’t organic, right?” Ashes- “Nothing valuable ever winds up like this.” Red Gem- “A lively ruby.” Blue Gem- “Sapphire! So refreshin’.” Yellow Gem- “Not gold, but good enough.” Green Gem- “The best color, period.” Orange Gem- “Garnet? I’m not sure.” Manure- “Gotta be pretty bad for me to need this.” Melty Marbles- “Oh, canicas.” Fake Kazoo- “Maybe it can still hold some value.” Gord’s Knot- “Need to read that story sometime.” Gnome- “This could kill a zombie.” Tiny Rocketship- “It ain’t blastin’ off again.” Frazzled Wires- “Don’t remember cutting these off...” Ball and Cup- “Mastered this as a kid.” Hardened Rubber Bung- “Rubber harder than the sole of my boot.” Mismatched Buttons- “I’m cuter.” Second-hand Dentures- “Hope I can find a proper toothbrush instead.” Lying Robot- “Please. Brutal honesty is where it’s at.” Dessicated Tentacle- “Got the feelin’ this will make me very happy...” Webber’s Skull- “Fine, I’ll respect the dead just this time.” Pile o’ Balloons- “If only I had a reason to party.” Codex Umbra- “Smells like a bad idea.” Leaky Teacup- “Wonder if there’s a matchin’ teapot?” White and Black Bishop- “Kinda miss playin’ chess with dad.” Bent Spork- “Get bent.” Toy Trojan Horse- “This one’s actually really cute.” Unbalanced Top- “Lil’ nostalgic lookin’ at it, broken as it is.” Back Scratcher- “Ya scratch my back, I steal when you’re not lookin’.” Beaten Beater- “How much is this worth? Beats me.” Frayed Yarn- “Kitties would find it more endearin’ than I do.” Shoe Horn- “Boots are better for a reason.” Lucky Cat Jar- “If that pig’s got taste at all, he’ll know how important this jar is.” Air Unfreshener- “Should be poop-shaped instead. Ugh.” Potato Cup- “Now I, too, can drink potato-flavored water.” Wire Hanger- “My clothes may be tattered and dirty, but no longer wrinkled!” Iridescent Gem- “I like to look at it... is it lookin’ back at me?” Moon Caller’s Staff- “Now I can moon others too.” Shadow Atrium- “It should not be beatin’.” Beach Toy- “Some sandy guy could use this.” Crumpled Package- “Ya know what they say. One man’s garbage...” Venom Gland- “Fight fire with fire.” Dubloons- “Yes!! Proper money!” Message in a Bottle- “Not now, I’m busy lookin’ for treasure.” Snake Oil- “Tryin’ to fool me. For shame.” Orange Soda- “Sodarn excited to find this.” Voodoo Doll- “Do I or do I not have the heart to ‘play’ with it?” Ukulele- “Well, Aloha O’e.” License Plate- “M’sure I can use this for something...” Ancient Vase- “Ancient things are for museums. Museums pay for this.” Brain Cloud Pill- “Can’t remember what it does. Memory’s foggy.” Wine Bottle Candle- “Waste of good wine.” Broken AAC Device- “Doesn’t seem at all valuable like this.” One True Earring- “Sounds like something worth a fortune!” Old Boot- “Looks good to kick bums with.” Sextant- “Heh. Heheh.” Toy Boat- “I wanna paint a skull and crossbones on the sail.” Soaked Candle- “May have some use still.” Sea Worther- “Feel like a scallywag for not knowin’ what this is.” Iron, Bone and Golden Key- “It unlocks something important. I can feel it.” Tarnished Crown- “Doesn’t seem like sellin’ material.” Failed (Adventure Mode)- “That was a waste of resources.” Obelisk (sane, down)- “This thing gives me a bad feeling.” -- (insane, up)- “So it wasn’t decoration!” -- (sane, up)- “Lemme guess. I can’t blow it up.” -- (insane, down)- “Whoa, who chopped it down?” Divining Rod (before being picked up)- “Why is that radio on a stick?” -- “You’re gonna be a useful friend.” -- (cold)- “Who knows where it is...” -- (warm)- “Must be in this area.” -- (warmer)- “Gotta keep my eyes peeled!” -- (hot)- “It’s mine now!” Maxwell’s Door- “A creepy door in the middle of the woods. Hm.” Maxwell’s Phonograph- “Make that thing stop!” Maxwell Statue- “Vandalism just waitin’ to happen.” Maxwell’s Tooth Trap- “Nice try, old man.” -- (went off)- “Nicely done, old man...” Nightmare Throne- “My butt hurts just lookin’ at it.” Generic- “Heck if I know.” Freedom- “No prison is eternal!” Freezing- “$!@#, I’m cold!!” Battlecry- “De España con amor!” -- (prey)- “Right behind ya.” -- (pig)- “Time to smash the piggy bank!” Leaving combat- “Not my kinda approach anyway.” Dusk- “The sun hides as crime awakes.” Hounds are coming- “I hate that sound.” Deerclops is coming- “What the heck was that!” Eating (painful food)- “Oof. That wasn’t wise.” Hungry- “El hambre...” Lightning miss- “Gave me a $!@# scare!” Overheating- “I’m meltin’...!” Tree shelter- “Nature ain’t so bad, after all.” Giant arrival- “I know for a fact that’s no good.” Refusing to eat Eternal Fruitcake- “I’ll never be desperate enough.” Cave-in warning- “Keep movin’! Keep movin’!” Encumbered (carrying heavy object) - “Hrng... Huff...” - “I ain’t... made for this...!” - “This... is no work... for a thief...” - “Ugh... my everything...” Volcano eruption warning- “Be prepared.” Volcano eruption- “Run like heck and don’t stop!” Sea hounds are coming- “Not even in the sea...” Sealnado is coming- “Pretty windy today, huh.” Map border approaching- “A dead end. Or is it?” Entering map border- “Who knows by this point.” Exiting map border- “Whatever the case, we’re here now.” Riding wave- “Yeehaw!” Formal Set- “Nobody suspects a thief under this perfect look.” Survivor Set- “Sometimes, to find the diamond in the rough, ya gotta become rough yourself.” Shadow Set- “Now acceptin’ worship in the form of your valuables!” Halloween Costume Set- “Monkey business afoot.” Rose Set- “I am now even more of a prick.”

#ooc #character quotes #this took so long oh my god

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thetravellingvagrant · 6 years ago

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Day 3: Lima - In Which I Visit Pisscat Park

After my first proper, uninterrupted sleep in...god knows how many days at this point, you'd think that I might have woken up to my first full day in Lima – and indeed Peru as a whole – with a spring in my step and a song in my heart (a welcome change from the limp and funeral dirge pounding away in my guts that I normally have to endure), however this was unfortunately not the case. Be it from jetlag, overexertion or just my chronic and inexplicable inability to ever feel good, I felt thoroughly and irredeemably mangled.

I peeled myself from the bed and oozed my way to the bathroom. The toilet sported a sign above it which warned me against putting sanitary towels or toilet paper into it. Laughing, I pointed this out to Sam, believing it to be a translation error. I mean where else was I supposed to put my toilet paper, right?

“In the bin.” Came her response.

I laughed again.

“I'm not joking. You're supposed to put toilet paper in the bin, here.”

I stopped laughing and instead slinked, silently deciding then and there to pretty much just ignore that rule when such a time came that it might be pertinent. It's not my sewage system, after all; why should I care if it breaks? 1-0, Lawrence.

The Airbnb in which we were staying was decked out with almost none of the amenities you'd realistically want for preparing food, so, after our breakfast of children's cereal, eaten out of a mug, without a spoon, we were fairly keen to see the back of it and head out into the city for a bit of exploring.

I had pieced together a fairly relaxed agenda for the day, which led us round some of the nicer, less stabby areas of Lima. We walked first along the seafront boulevard, which afforded us both our first ever glimpse of the Pacific Ocean with our own two (four?) eyes

Wow, cool...

oohing and ahhing at the various sights, sounds and smells that the boulevard had to offer

Ooh...

Ahh...

while dodging and weaving through a haze of remarkably persistent tat-peddlers, all trying desperately to part us from our money in exchange for pieces of gaudy turquoise jewellery or stale muffins, sold from broken, leaking plastic containers; dismissing each one with a curt “no, gracias” and the quiet hope that they wouldn't mug us.

Shockingly, our cup full of chocolate cereal didn't do much to satify our hunger for very long, and so we ducked into a seafront creperie for some food, which I am loathe to describe as brunch and which, to be honest, wasn't particularly good, either. I ordered the ceasar salad crepe, which, honestly probably only met its own description by the barest minimum of standards. The sauce was watery and insipid, the chicken overcooked and the crepe itself tasted very strongly of banana. It felt a little like eating everything left in the fridge at the same time, the day before a big food shop. Still finished the whole thing though. I'm not a proud man.

Our walk then continued through an outdoor shopping mall, which was carved, picturesquely into the seafront, which, comparative to other malls in which I've been, was very nice, but was still...pretty much just a shopping centre and offered essentially the same views as the rest of the boulevard did, but with added gaudy designer clothing outlets, so, honestly, it probably wasn't really worth visiting, at all. We did meet Paddington there, however

Paddington, back in his native land after unfortunately being deported due to bear-brexit.

so that was nice.

Continuing our tour of things-that-weren't-as-good-as-we-expected, we walked some fair distance to our next stop: Barranco, which we were told was an artsy little community, full of galleries and artisanal shops and all that hipster bollocks

pictured: wank

however, the parts we saw, at least, seemed to be little more than a motorway (which, of course, we walked down the side of- keeping the vagrant tradition alive) with a couple of museums of contemporary art and the like dotted alongside it, which, both Sam and I unanimously agreed we could not be fucked visiting. We did see the odd, quite impressive mural, painted on the sides of various buildings, though, which were fairly lovely, if still not quite worth the incredibly long walk to see

I mean, if you’re into space-birds or whatever...

Aside from these murals, however, Barranco didn't strike us as particularly different from any of the other areas which we had visited, thus far and so, not wishing to pour any more of our day into that particular time-sink, we headed back to Miraflores and to our next stop, Kennedy Park.

From what we had read about the fairly modestly sized park in the pre-amble to this trip, it was the home of nearly the entirety of Miraflores' stray cat population. This was obviously a tremendously exciting prospect for me as, as fans of this blog will know, nothing makes me feel closer to what I imagine happiness feels like, than befriending a stray cat, and them all being in the same park at the same time was essentially like having a captive audience.

I can't really fault the park, to be honest; it was, as described, full to bursting with strays, all asleep on the grass and raking through bins, like the worlds least well organised cat cafe. Quickly though, it became quite apparent that a lot of them were really not very friendly

10/10 would not touch

and the ones that were, were generally, to describe them in the nicest possible way, unforgivably manky and all fucked up to buggery

Eugh, no.

and all of them, without exception absolutely reeked of piss. I plucked up enough courage, at one point, to give one a stroke along the back of its neck and, genuinely, my hand still faintly smells of its urine, nearly a week later. At least I hope that's what it is...

After sitting for a while, eating a nice bit of cake with my non-dominant, non-pissy hand, we bade farewell to the cats of Kennedy park, receiving a sea of several hundred, furry middle fingers in response, and moved on to our penultimate stop of the day; some pre-incan ruins which were, unusually nestled right in the heart of the city, whose name I can't remember and honestly, wouldn't be able to spell, even if I did.

We walked for so, so very long to get there (to be clear though, geographically they were really very close to Kennedy Park, but every junction and crossing in Lima takes about five solid minutes to cross, thanks to the incredibly heavy and wildly unregulated traffic that, to be totally honest lost its novelty after the second road we had to cross. If I never hear another car horn, ever again in my life, it will be too soon) and eventually, found ourselves standing outside the ruins, peering in through the fence, as is the vagrant way.

...Close enough!

We traced our way back to the actual entrance and were greeted by a stern, chubby looking man who told us that you needed to have a guide to enter the ruins and that the last English speaking tour of the day was set to depart in the next few minutes. We quickly debated whether or not to go for it, but to be honest, we were still very tired from the previous day's travels and, given that we had clocked up, at that point, 25,000 steps on my pedometer, both unanimously decided that we couldn't be fucked, though this time at least, we did vow to return later in the trip, because it did actually look pretty neat.

We hobbled back to our apartment, where we rested only briefly, before heading out into the city once more to a restaurant which Sam had picked out for us. A plan, with which I saw no obvious flaws with at its inception.

Now basically dragging our broken little legs behind us, using our hands as sort of rudimentary claws for another twenty minutes, we arrived exhausted and sore at the restaurant. It was only then, that I remembered that Sam is a salty, Geordie fish lady and had therefore chosen a place that almost exclusively served seafood, which, to be totally honest, I was not really in the mood for. Being the hero and very good and supportive boyfriend that I am though and having neither the energy to walk somewhere else nor complain, I silently relented and begrudgingly took my seat.

The place was really very heavily sea-themed, as you might expect of a seafood restaurant, but was only about 8% as classy in reality as it thought it was. I'm not sure how they expected waiters wearing Hawaiian shirts, or seats made from a sawn-in-half rowboat to scream elegance, but it was pitifully apparent that they did. We were served a free taster of ceviche (the national dish of Peru; raw(ish) fish, cooked by some chemical reaction it has to lime juice or something) which was basically fine and an equally free, very alcoholic sour little cocktail thing, which I obviously didn't drink, meaning that Sam had to have mine as well as hers in order to save me (but mostly her) from embarrassment.

I perused (pun intended) the menu and decided that, given that I was in South America, should be a little more daring than I usually would. I didn't really fancy a full plate of Ceviche, however, and so instead, opted for fried calamari with spaghetti and squid-ink sauce after making one hundred per cent certain with the waiter that I would be served rings of calamari and not, as I have seen so often, entire baby squid, which I refuse to eat, because I am a gastric coward.

Obviously, fucking obviously the plate that was plopped down in front of me was positively riddled with fully formed, tiny little baby squid, staring up at me with their sad, black eyes. Perfect. I ate around them, picking out the ones I could see and heaping them onto Sam's plate - who was not so concerned about fully ingesting entire offspring – though even that was made more difficult than it should have been due to spaghetti, blackened by the squid ink, looking remarkably similar to baby squid tentacles. In the end, I probably had about five mouthfuls of spaghetti and a big sulk. After eating only a crepe and a cup of cereal throughout the day, this was not even close to enough to keep me going, (which is weird because normally a good sulk can sustain me for days). Thus, out of equal parts hunger and spite, I ordered myself a pudding. I'm not sure what it was called, but it was a creamy, cinnamony, biscuity, dulce de leche-y tart thing and it was so good that it single-handedly saved the entire holiday, which, after that meal, I was pretty prepared to just throw in the bin, to be totally honest.

After our meal, the fatigue set in once more (or more accurately just...worsened) and so we paid our far-more-expensive-than-I'd-have-liked-to-have-paid-for-food-I-didn't-really-enjoy bill, hobbled the requisite twenty minutes back home and passed out almost immediately. To be honest, I may even have passed out on the way for all I know. I genuinely remember that little of it.

#lima #peru #travelling #vagrant #iquitos #cusco #malecon #pacific #photography #squid #restaurant #ceviche #walking #barranco #miraflores #travel #grumpy

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andya-j · 7 years ago

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“There,” said Grinnan as we cleared the trees. “Now, you keep your counsel, Hanny-boy.” Why, that is the mudwife’s house, I thought. Dread thudded in me. Since two days ago among the older trees when I knew we were in my father’s forest, I’d feared this. The house looked just as it did in my memory: the crumbling, glittery yellow walls, the dreadful roof sealed with drippy white mud. My tongue rubbed the roof of my mouth just looking. It is crisp as wafer-biscuit on the outside, that mud. You bite through to a sweetish sand inside. You are frightened it will choke you, but you cannot stop eating. The mudwife might be dead, I thought hopefully. So many are dead, after all, of the black. But then came a convulsion in the house. A face passed the window-hole, and there she was at the door. Same squat body with a big face snarling above. Same clothing, even, after all these years, the dress trying for bluishness and the pinafore for brown through all the dirt. She looked just as strong. However much bigger I’d grown, it took all my strength to hold my bowels together. “Don’t come a step nearer.” She held a red fire-banger in her hand, but it was so dusty—if I’d not known her I’d have laughed. “Madam, I pray you,” said Grinnan. “We are clean as clean—there’s not a speck on us, not a blister. Humble travellers in need only of a pig-hut or a chicken-shed to shelter the night.” “Touch my stock and I’ll have you,” she says to all his smoothness. “I’ll roast your head in a pot.” I tugged Grinnan’s sleeve. It was all too sudden—one moment walking wondering, the next on the doorstep with the witch right there, talking heads in pots. “We have pretties to trade,” said Grinnan. “You can put your pretties up your poink-hole where they belong.” “We have all the news of long travel. Are you not at all curious about the world and its woes?” “Why would I live here, tuffet-head?” And she went inside and slammed her door and banged the shutter across her window. “She is softening,” said Grinnan. “She is curious. She can’t help herself.” “I don’t think so.” “You watch me. Get us a fire going, boy. There on that bit of bare ground.” “She will come and throw her bunger in it. She’ll blind us, and then—” “Just make and shut. I tell you, this one is as good as married to me. I have her heart in my hand like a rabbit-kitten.” I was sure he was mistaken, but I went to, because fire meant food and just the sight of the house had made me hungry. While I fed the fire its kindling I dug up a little stone from the flattened ground and sucked the dirt off it. Grinnan had me make a smelly soup. Salt-fish, it had in it, and sea-celery and the yellow spice. When the smell was strong, the door whumped open and there she was again. Ooh, she was so like in my dreams, with her suddenness and her ugly intentions that you can’t guess. But it was me and Grinnan this time, not me and Kirtle. Grinnan was big and smart, and he had his own purposes. And I knew there was no magic in the world, just trickery on the innocent. Grinnan would never let anyone else trick me; he wanted that privilege all for himself. “Take your smelly smells from my garden this instant!” the mudwife shouted. Grinnan bowed as if she’d greeted him most civilly. “Madam, if you’d join us? There is plenty of this lovely bull-a-bess for you as well.” “I’d not touch my lips to such mess. What kind of foreign muck—” Even I could hear the longing in her voice, that she was trying to shout down. There before her he ladled out a bowlful—yellow, splashy, full of delicious lumps. Very humbly—he does humbleness well when he needs to, for such a big man—he took it to her. When she recoiled he placed it on the little table by the door, the one that I ran against in my clumsiness when escaping, so hard I still sometimes feel the bruise in my rib. I remember, I knocked it skittering out the door, and I flung it back meaning to trip up the mudwife. But instead I tripped up Kirtle, and the wife came out and plucked her up and bellowed after me and kicked the table onto the path, and ran out herself with Kirtle like a tortoise swimming from her fist and kicked the table aside again— Bang! went the cottage door. Grinnan came laughing quietly back to me. “She is ours. Once they’ve et your food, Hanny, you’re free to eat theirs. Fish and onion pie tonight, I’d say.” “Eugh.” “Jealous, are we? Don’t like old Grinnan supping at other pots, hnh?” “It’s not that!” I glared at his laughing face. “She’s so ugly, that’s all. So old. I don’t know how you can even think of—” “Well, I am no primrose myself, golden boy,” he says. “And I’m grateful for any flower that lets me pluck her.” I was not old and desperate enough to laugh at that joke. I pushed his soup-bowl at him. “Ah, bull-a-bess,” he said into the steam. “Food of gods and seducers.” *** When the mudwife let us in, I looked straight to the corner, and the cage was still there! It had been repaired in places with fresh plaited withes, but it was still of the same pattern. Now there was an animal in it, but the cottage was so dim . . . a very thin cat, maybe, or a ferret. It rippled slowly around its borders, and flashed little eyes at us, and smelled as if its own piss were combed through its fur for pomade. I never smelled that bad when I lived in that cage. I ate well, I remember; I fattened. She took away my leavings in a little cup, on a little dish, but there was still plenty of me left. So that when Kirtle freed me I lumbered away. As soon as I was out of sight of the mud-house I stopped in the forest and just stood there blowing from the effort of propelling myself, after all those weeks of sloth. So that Grinnan when he first saw me said, Here’s a jubbly one. Here’s a cheese cake. Wherever did you get the makings of those round cheeks? And he fell on me like a starving man on a roasted mutton-leg. Before too long he had used me thin again, and thin I stayed thereafter. He was busy at work on the mudwife now. “Oh my, what an array of herbs! You must be a very knowledgeable woman. And hasn’t she a lot of pots, Hansel! A pot for every occasion, I think.” Oh yes, I nearly said, including head-boiling, remember? “Well, you are very comfortably set up here, indeed, Madam.” He looked about him as if he’d found himself inside some kind of enchanted palace, instead of in a stinking hovel with a witch in the middle of it. “Now, I’m sure you told me your name—” “I did not. My name’s not for such as you to know.” Her mouth was all pruny and she strutted around and banged things and shot him sharp looks, but I’d seen it. We were in here, weren’t we? We’d made it this far. “Ah, a guessing game!” says Grinnan delightedly. “Now, you’d have a good strong name, I’m sure. Bridda, maybe, or Gert. Or else something fiery and passionate, such as Rossavita, eh?” He can afford to play her awhile. If the worst comes to the worst, he has the liquor, after all. The liquor has worked on me when nothing else would, when I’ve been ready to run, to some town’s wilds where I could hide—to such as that farm-wife with the worried face who beat off Grinnan with a broom. The liquor had softened me and made me sleepy, made me give in to the old bugger’s blandishments; next day it had stopped me thinking with its head-pain, further than to obey Grinnan’s grunts and gestures. *** How does yours like it? said Gadfly’s red-haired boy viciously. I’ve heard him call you “honey,” like a girl-wife; does he do you like a girl, face-to-face and lots of kissing? Like your boy-bits, which they is so small, ain’t even there, so squashed and ground in? He calls me Hanny, because Hanny is my name. Hansel. Honey is your name, eh? said the black boy—a boy of black skin from naturalness, not illness. After your honey hair? Which they commenced patting and pulling and then held me down and chopped all away with Gadfly’s good knife. When Grinnan saw me he went pale, but I’m pretty sure he was trying to cut some kind of deal with Gadfly to swap me for the red-hair (with the skin like milk, like freckled milk, he said), so the only thing it changed, he did not come after me for several nights until the hair had settled and I did not give off such an air of humiliation. Then he whispered, You were quite handsome under that thatch, weren’t you? All along. And things were bad as ever, and the next day he tidied off the stragglier strands, as I sat on a stump with my poink-hole thumping and the other boys idled this way and that, watching, warping their faces at each other and snorting. *** The first time Grinnan did me, I could imagine that it didn’t happen. I thought, I had that big dump full of so much nervous earth and stones and some of them must have had sharp corners and cut me as I passed them, and the throbbing of the cuts gave me the dream, that the old man had done that to me. Because I was so fearful, you know, frightened of everything coming straight from the mudwife, and I put fear and pain together and made it up in my sleep. The first time I could trick myself, because it was so terrible and mortifying a thing, it could not be real. It could not. I have watched Grinnan a long time now, in success and failure, in private and on show. At first I thought he was too smart for me, that I was trapped by his cleverness. And this is true. But I have seen others laugh at him, or walk away from his efforts easily, shaking their heads. Others are cleverer. What he does to me, he waits till I am weak. Half-asleep, he waits till. I never have much fight in me, but dozing off I have even less. Then what he does—it’s so simple I’m ashamed. He bares the flesh of my back. He strokes my back as if that is all he is going to do. He goes straight to the very oldest memory I have—which, me never having told him, how does he know it?—of being sickly, of my first mother bringing me through the night, singing and stroking my back, the oldest and safest piece of my mind, and he puts me there, so that I am sodden with sweetness and longing and nearly-being-back-to-a-baby. And then he proceeds. It often hurts—it mostly hurts. I often weep. But there is a kind of bargain goes on between us, you see. I pay for the first part with the second. The price of the journey to that safe, sweet-sodden place is being spiked in the arse and dragged kicking and biting my blanket back to the real and dangerous one. *** Show me your boy-thing, the mudwife would say. Put it through the bars. I won’t. Why not? You will bite it off. You will cut it off with one of your knives. You will chop it with your axe. Put it out. I will do no such thing. I only want to wash it. Wash it when Kirtle is awake, if you so want me clean. It will be nice, I promise you. I will give you a nice feeling, so warm, so wet. You’ll feel good. But when I put it out, she exclaimed, What am I supposed to do with that? Wash it, like you said. There’s not enough of it even to wash! How would one get that little peepette dirty? I put it away, little shred, little scrap I was ashamed of. And she flung around the room awhile, and then she sat, her face all red crags in the last little light of the banked-up fire. I am going to have to keep you forever! she said. For years before you are any use to me. And you are expensive! You eat like a pig! I should just cook you up now and enjoy you while you are tender. I was all wounded pride and stupid. I didn’t know what she was talking about. I can do anything my sister can do, if you just let me out of this cage. And I’m a better wood-chopper. Wood-chopper! she said disgustedly. As if I needed a wood-chopper! And she went to the door and took the axe off the wall there, and tested the edge with one of her horny fingertips, and looked at me in a very thoughtful way that I did not much like. *** Sometimes he speaks as he strokes. My Hanny, he says, very gentle and loving like my mother, my goosle, my gosling, sweet as apple, salt as sea. And it feels as if we are united in yearning for my mother and her touch and voice. She cannot have gone forever, can she, if I can remember this feeling so clearly? But, ah, to get back to her, so much would have to be undone! So much would have to un-happen: all of Grinnan’s and my wanderings, all the witch-time, all the time of our second mother. That last night of our first mother, our real mother, and her awful writhing and the noises and our father begging, and Kirtle weeping and needing to be taken away—that would have to become a nightmare, from which my father would shake me awake with the news that the baby came out just as Kirtle and I did, just as easily. And our mother would rise from her bed with the baby; we would all rise into the baby’s first morning, and begin. *** It is very deep in the night. I have done my best to be invisible, to make no noise, but now the mudwife pants, He’s not asleep. Of course he’s asleep. Listen to his breathing. I do the asleep-breathing. Come, says Grinnan. I’ve done with these, bounteous as they are. I want to go below. He has his ardent voice on now. He makes you think he is barely in control of himself, and somehow that makes you, somehow that flatters you enough to let him do what he wants. After some uffing and puffing, No, she says, very firm, and there’s a slap. I want that boy out of here. What, wake him so he can go and listen at the window? Get him out, she says. Send him beyond the pigs and tell him to stay. You’re a nuisance, he says. You’re a sexy nuisance. Look at this! I’m all misshapen and you want me herding children. You do it, she says, rearranging her clothing, or you’ll stay that shape. So he comes to me and I affect to be woken up and to resist being hauled out the door, but really it’s a relief of course. I don’t want to hear or see or know. None of that stuff I understand, why people want to sweat and pant and poke bits of themselves into each other, why anyone would want to do more than hold each other for comfort and stroke each other’s backs. Moonlight. Pigs like slabs of moon, like long, fat fruit fallen off a moon-vine. The trees tall and brainy all around and above—they never sweat and pork; the most they do is sway in a breeze, or crash to the ground to make useful wood. The damp smell of night forest. My friends in the firmament, telling me where I am: two and a half days north of the ford with the knotty rope; four and a half days north and a bit west of “Devilstown,” which Grinnan called it because someone made off in the night with all the spoils we’d made off with the night before. I’d thought we were the only ones not back in their beds! he’d stormed on the road. They must have come very quiet, I said. They must have been accomplished thieves. They must have been sprites or devils, he spat, that I didn’t hear them, with my ears. We were seven and a half days north and very very west of Gadfly’s camp, where we had, as Grinnan put it, tried the cooperative life for a while. But those boys, they were a gang of no-goods, Grinnan says now. Whatever deal he had tried to make for Freckled-Milk, they laughed him off, and Grinnan could not stand it there having been laughed at. He took me away before dawn one morning, and when we stopped by a stream in the first light he showed me the brass candlesticks that Gadfly had kept in a sack and been so proud of. And what’ll you use those for? I said foolishly, for we had managed up until then with moon and stars and our own wee fire. I did not take them to use them, Hanny-pot, he said with glee. I took them because he loved and polished them so. And he flung them into the stream, and I gasped—and Grinnan laughed to hear me gasp—at the sight of them cutting through the foam and then gone into the dark cold irretrievable. Anyway, it was new for me still, there beyond the mudwife’s pigs, this knowing where we were—though I had lost count of the days since Ardblarthen when it had come to me how Grinnan looked up to find his way, not down among a million tree-roots that all looked the same, among twenty million grass-stalks, among twenty million million stones or sand-grains. It was even newer how the star-pattern and the moon movements had steadied out of their meaningless whirling and begun to tell me whereabouts I was in the wide world. All my life I had been stupid, trying to mark the things around me on the ground, leaving myself trails to get home by because every tree looked the same to me, every knoll and declivity, when all the time the directions were hammered hard into their system up there, pointing and changing-but-never-completely-changing. So if we came at the cottage from this angle, whereas Kirtle and I came from the front, that means . . . but Kirtle and I wandered so many days, didn’t we? I filled my stomach with earths, but Kirtle was piteous weeping all the way, so hungry. She would not touch the earth; she watched me eating it and wept. I remember, I told her, No wonder you are thirsty! Look how much water you’re wasting on those tears! She had brown hair, I remember. I remember her pushing it out of her eyes so that she could see to sweep in the dark cottage—the cottage where the mudwife’s voice is rising, like a saw through wood. The house stands glittering and the sound comes out of it. My mouth waters; they wouldn’t hear me over that noise, would they? I creep in past the pigs to where the blobby roof-edge comes low. I break off a blob bigger than my hand; the wooden shingle it was holding slides off, and my other hand catches it soundlessly and leans it against the house. The mudwife howls; something is knocked over in there; she howls again and Grinnan is grunting with the effort of something. I run away from all those noises, the white mud in my hand like a hunk of cake. I run back to the trees where Grinnan told me to stay, where the woman’s howls are like mouse-squeaks and I can’t hear Grinnan, and I sit between two high roots and I bite in. Once I’ve eaten the mud I’m ready to sleep. I try dozing, but it’s not comfortable among the roots there, and there is still noise from the cottage—now it is Grinnan working himself up, calling her all the things he calls me, all the insults. You love it, he says, with such deep disgust. You filth, you filthy cunt. And she oh’s below, not at all like me, but as if she really does love it. I lie quiet, thinking, Is it true, that she loves it? That I do? And if it’s true, how is it that Grinnan knows, but I don’t? She makes noise, she agrees with whatever he says. Harder, harder, she says. Bang me till I burst. Harder! On and on they go, until I give up waiting—they will never finish! I get up and go around the pigsty and behind the chicken house. There is a poor field there, pumpkins gone wild in it, blackberry bushes foaming dark around the edges. At least the earth might be softer here. If I pile up enough of this floppy vine, if I gather enough pumpkins around me— And then I am holding, not a pale baby pumpkin in my hand but a pale baby skull. Grinnan and the mudwife bellow together in the house, and something else crashes broken. The skull is the colour of white-mud, but hard, inedible—although when I turn it in the moonlight I find tooth-marks where someone has tried. The shouts go up high—the witch’s loud, Grinnan’s whimpering. I grab up a handful of earth to eat, but a bone comes with it, long, white, dry. I let the earth fall away from it. I crouch there looking at the skull and the bone, as those two finish themselves off in the cottage. They will sleep now—but I’m not sleepy any more. The stars in their map are nailed to the inside of my skull; my head is filled with dark clarity. When I am sure they are asleep, I scoop up a mouthful of earth, and start digging. *** Let me go and get the mudwife, our father murmured. Just for this once. I’ve done it twice and I’ll do it again. Don’t you bring that woman here! Our mother’s voice was all constricted, as if the baby were trying to come up her throat, not out her nethers. But this is not like the others! he said, desperate after the following pain. They say she knows all about children. Delivers them all the time. Delivers them? She eats them! said our mother. It’s not just this one. I’ve two others might catch her eye, while I feed and doze. I’d rather die than have her near my house, that filthy hag. So die she did, and our new brother or sister died as well, still inside her. We didn’t know whichever it was. Will it be another little Kirtle-child? our father had asked us, bright-eyed by the fire at night. Or another baby woodcutter, like our Hans? It had seemed so important to know. Even when the baby was dead, I wanted to know. But the whole reason! our father sobbed. Is that it could not come out, for us to see! Which had shamed me quiet. And then later, going into blackened towns where the only way you could tell man from woman was by the style of a cap, or a hair-ribbon draggling into the dirt beneath them, or a rotted pinafore, or worst by the amount of shrunken scrag between an unclothed person’s legs—why, then I could see how small a thing it was not to know the little one’s sex. I could see that it was not important at all. *** When I wake up, they are at it again with their sexing. My teeth are stuck to the inside of my cheeks and lips by two ridges of earth. I have to break the dirt away with my finger. What was I thinking, last night? I sit up. The bones are in a pile beside me; the skulls are in a separate pile—for counting, I remember. What I thought was: Where did she find all these children? Kirtle and I walked for days, I’m sure. There was nothing in the world but trees and owls and foxes and that one deer. Kirtle was afraid of bats at night, but I never saw even one. And we never saw people—which was what we were looking for, which was why we were so unwise when we came upon the mudwife’s house. But what am I going to do? What was I planning, piling these up? I thought I was only looking for all Kirtle’s bits. But then another skull turned up and I thought, Well, maybe this one is more Kirtle’s size, and then skull after skull—I dug on, crunching earth and drooling and breathing through my nose, and the bones seemed to rise out of the earth at me, seeking out the moon the way a tree reaches for the light, pushing up thinly among the other trees until it finds light enough to spread into, seeking out me, as if they were thinking, Here, finally, is someone who can do something for us. I pick up the nearest skull. Which of these is my sister’s? Even if there were just a way to tell girls’ skulls from boys’! Is hers even here? Maybe she’s still buried, under the blackberries where I couldn’t go for thorns. Now I have a skull in either hand, like someone at a market weighing one cabbage against another. And the thought comes to me: Something is different. Listen. The pigs. The mudwife, her noises very like the pigs’. There is no rhythm to them; they are random grunting and gasping. And I— Silently I replace the skulls on the pile. I haven’t heard Grinnan this morning. Not a word, not a groan. Just the woman. The woman and the pigs. The sunshine shows the cottage as the hovel it is, its saggy sides propped, its sloppy roofing patched with mud-splats simply thrown from the ground. The back door stands wide, and I creep up and stand right next to it, my back to the wall. Wet slaps and stirrings sound inside. The mudwife grunts—she sounds muffled, desperate. Has he tied her up? Is he strangling her? There’s not a gasp or word from him. That thing in the cage gives off a noise, though, a kind of low baying. It never stops to breathe. There is a strong smell of shit. Dawn is warming everything up; flies zoom in and out the doorway. I press myself to the wall. There is a dip in the doorstep. Were I brave enough to walk in, that’s where I would put my foot. And right at that place appears a drop of blood, running from inside. It slides into the dip, pauses modestly at being seen, then shyly hurries across the step and dives into hiding in the weeds below. How long do I stand there, looking out over the pigsty and the chicken house to the forest, wishing I were there among the trees instead of here clamped to the house wall like one of those gargoyles on the monks’ house in Devilstown, with each sound opening a new pocket of fear in my bowels? A fly flies into my gaping mouth and out again. A pebble in the wall digs a little chink in the back of my head, I’m pressed so hard there. Finally, I have to know. I have to take one look before I run, otherwise I’ll dream all the possibilities for nights to come. She’s not a witch; she can’t spell me back; I’m thin now and nimble; I can easily get away from her. So I loosen my head, and the rest of me, from the wall. I bend one knee and straighten the other, pushing my big head, my popping eyes, around the doorpost. I only meant to glimpse and run. So ready am I for the running, I tip outward even when I see there’s no need. I put out my foot to catch myself, and I stare. She has her back to me, her bare, dirty white back, her baggy arse and thighs. If she weren’t doing what she’s doing, that would be horror enough, how everything is wet and withered and hung with hair, how everything shakes. Grinnan is dead on the table. She has opened his legs wide and eaten a hole in him, in through his soft parts. She has pulled all his innards out onto the floor, and her bare bloody feet are trampling the shit out of them, her bare shaking legs are trying to brace themselves on the slippery carpet of them. I can smell the salt-fish in the shit; I can smell the yellow spice. That devilish moan, up and down it wavers, somewhere between purr and battle-yowl. I thought it was me, but it’s that shadow in the cage, curling over and over itself like a ruffle of black water, its eyes fixed on the mess, hungry, hungry. The witch pulls her head out of Grinnan for air. Her head and shoulders are shiny red; her soaked hair drips; her purple-brown nipples point down into two hanging rubies. She snatches some air between her red teeth and plunges in again, her head inside Grinnan like the bulge of a dead baby, but higher, forcing higher, pummelling up inside him, fighting to be un-born. In my travels I have seen many wrongnesses done, and heard many others told of with laughter or with awe around a fire. I have come upon horrors of all kinds, for these are horrible times. But never has a thing been laid out so obvious and ongoing in its evil before my eyes and under my nose and with the flies feasting even as it happens. And never has the means to end it hung as clearly in front of me as it hangs now, on the wall, in the smile of the mudwife’s axe-edge, fine as the finest nail-paring, bright as the dawn sky, the only clean thing in this foul cottage. *** I reach my father’s house late in the afternoon. How I knew the way, when years ago you could put me twenty paces into the trees and I’d wander lost all day, I don’t know; it just came to me. All the loops I took, all the mistakes I made, all laid themselves down in their places on the world, and I took the right way past them and came here straight, one sack on my back, the other in my arms. When I dreamed of this house it was big and full of comforts; it hummed with safety; the spirit of my mother lit it from inside like a sacred candle. Kirtle was always here, running out to greet me all delight. Now I can see the poor place for what it is, a plague-ruin like so many that Grinnan and I have found and plundered. And tiny—not even as big as the witch’s cottage. It sits in its weedy quiet and the forest chirps around it. The only thing remarkable about it is that I am the first here; no one has touched the place. I note it on my star map—there is safety here, the safety of a distance greater than most robbers will venture. A blackened boy-child sits on the step, his head against the doorpost as if only very tired. Inside, a second child lies in a cradle. My father and second-mother are in their bed, side by side just like that lord and lady on the stone tomb in Ardblarthen, only not so neatly carved or richly dressed. Everything else is exactly the same as Kirtle and I left it. So sparse and spare! There is nothing of value here. Grinnan would be angry. Burn these bodies and beds, boy! he’d say. We’ll take their rotten roof if that’s all they have. “But Grinnan is not here, is he?” I say to the boy on the step, carrying the mattock out past him. “Grinnan is in the ground with his lady-love, under the pumpkins. And with a great big pumpkin inside him, too. And Mrs Pumpkin-Head in his arms, so that they can sex there underground forever.” I take a stick and mark out the graves: Father, Second-Mother, Brother, Sister—and a last big one for the two sacks of Kirtle-bones. There’s plenty of time before sundown, and the moon is bright these nights, don’t I know it. I can work all night if I have to; I am strong enough, and full enough still of disgust. I will dig and dig until this is done. I tear off my shirt. I spit in my hands and rub them together. The mattock bites into the earth.

From Horror photos & videos July 08, 2018 at 08:00PM

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