#fractured fairytale indeed

[pirunika]

no. 3 and 14 for your DA ocs :D

Aaaa thank you <3 its been soooo long since I thought about them so run the most familiar™ is my Aeducan, Lady Ayka ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎♡

No...She's a very family oriented and loyal person despite everything....... (😬) so she also supported her brother during that choice...other than that I can safely say she only killed demons or darkspawn. Like.She simply would not. She'd die.

🤔🤔🤔 I think a villain version of Ayka would be someone who's going above and beyond to protect the ones she loves...whether they like it or not. Its for their good can't they just see????? (like I imagine for her it'd be putting Alistair on the throne, I'm not saying its a villainous act but that's villainous for Her soft self. Maybe she'd get a bit extreme too, she'd kill Anora because she's too dangerous to Alistair and go into a whole rampage to remove all the threats and suddenly she's The Most Wanted 💀)

Song though.. Mmm..this. Though its short it gives that Take my hand I know better Trust Me *delusional * POV of hers

[adarkrainbow]

I randomly stumbled upon a recording of Pierre Gripari (one of the big name of "fractured fairytales" in France, I should definitively start talking again more about this weird and crazy person) telling a fairytale - a Snow-White variation. It was part of a series of fairytales he recorded for kids, someone put extracts of the CD on Youtube, and this Snow-White variation he told is actually how own take on a traditional Greek fairytale that his father used to tell him as a little boy (because his father was a Greek immigrant who went to France). Gripari even begins the recording by pointing out how everybody knows Snow-White thanks to the brothers Grimm, then to the Disney movie, and how fun it is to look at the different variants of the tale told through different countries.

It is the story of "Cinq fois belle", "Five times beautiful", "I pendamorphi" (or maybe "i pendamorfi", since it is a recording I don't know exactly how it is spelled)

Now given it is a retelling of the folktale, things were probably changed or embelesihed by Gripari but here's some key points:

We still have the basic structure of the beautiful girl (I'm going to call her BeautyX5) being put in a rivalry with a jealous and vain female figure due to a supernatural force answering questions about who is the fairest of them all... But here it is no stepmother or mother: BeautyX5 is the smallest and youngest of three sisters. Her two older sisters are beautiful, but BeautyX5 is even more beautiful than them. The story begins with the two oldest sisters bickering about who of them two is the most beautiful, and their little answer proposes "Why not ask the Sun?" Indeed, the magic mirror is replaced by "The Sun that sees all", that the three sisters go, hand in hand, ask each day about "Who is the most beautiful of us three?". I say "each day" because when the Sun answers "You two are beautiful, but your little sister more so than you", the wicked sisters do not want to believe him and invent all sorts of excuses (there's mist, the Sun can't properly see us ; there's a little cloud in the sky, must have gotten into the Sun's eye). But the third time they ask, realizing the Sun is not mistaken, the two sisters kick BeautyX5 into the wilderness outside of the village, hoping to never see her again (or for her to be killed by beasts, that would be better)

After crossing seven mountains and seven valleys, BeautyX5 enters a large house in the middle of the woods who doesn't have seven meals on the table awaiting for the owners to return... But twelve meals on the table, with one set of plate/fork/knife distinctively smaller than the others. The same goes for the rest of the furniture in the house - always twelve chairs, always twelve beds, with one smaller than the others. BeautyX5 goes "Goldilocks mode", and she decides to eat from the smallest of the twelve plates, sit on the smallest of the twelve chairs, and sleep in the smallest of the twelve beds. (There's frequent references to her just being a "little girl", hence her choice of small items).

Turns out the house she stumbled into is the house of the Twelve Months. "The three months of spring, dressed in green and adorned with flowers ; the three months of summer, dressed in yellow and adorned with wheat ; the three months of autumn, dressed in brown and adorned with dead leaves ; and the three months of winter, dressed in thick furs and looking sad". And of the three winter months, there is one smaller than the others, who limps with one leg and doesn't look beautiful at all. It is the grumpy and grouchy February, the shortest of the twelve months, who is never in a good mindset and always complaining about everything. Of course as soon as he arrives in the house, he complains about someone eating in his plate and sitting in his chair, though his brothers don't mind him 'cause he's always complaining. Until they find the beautiful little girl in their bedroom... The Months want to kick the intruder out because a little girl has no place in their house. But February, who is always contrary and likes to decide the opposite of what his brothers do, claims BeautyX5 will stay. He points out that she chose to eat from his plate, sit in his chair, sleep in his bed: touche and honored by this, he decides to consider her his sister from now onward, and he forces the other Months to agree to consider her their sisters. The other Months agree that, if she does all the chores in the house, they will act as if they were her brothers.

Meanwhile, as usual in a Snow-White story, the two sisters still n the village keep asking the Sun who is the most beautiful, only to get answered it is their sister. The second of the three sisters, noted to be the wickedest of the trio, then decides to have BeautyX5 be killed and enlists the help of the older sister. As with the traditional Snow-White structure there are three murder attempts with a poisoned item, but things go a bit different since there's two villains here. The two first attempts (a poisoned cake and a poisoned apple) fail because the second sister, the clever of the two, stays at home brewing the poisons and sends the oldest sister deliver the gifts. She sends her because the oldest sister has "strong legs" and thus can easily cross the seven mountains and valleys... but she is also noted to be the dumbest of the three sisters. Which poses a problem because every time she goes to the House of the Twelve Months, February is sitting on the threshold as a watchful guardian, asking her what she wants. The two times the sister explains who she is, claims they are sorry for mistreating their little sister and other them as a sorry gift "this beautiful poisoned cake" and "this beautiful poisoned apple". To which February always answer something in the line of it: "Eat it yourself and choke on it!" Which leaves the dumb sister sad, as she wonders "Why is he so rude? I was very polite..."

In fact it is a running theme in Gripari's retelling of the story: politeness and rudeness. Gripari notes with humor that the Sun answers the girls' questions because "he is very polite". February is noted to be especially rude towards everybody. And the prince is later also heavily described as polite to everyone he meets... And here the dumb wicked sister makes so much effort to be polite to February she never realized the problem was not that she was being rude, but that she literaly said she brought poison.

The third attempt succeeds because it is the second, more intelligent sister, that goes to the House. She doesn't reveal her real identity, pretends to be a random peddler woman ; she brought with her a box filled with poisoned jewelry, and she offers February to buy one for his sister (in fact she deliberately plays on February's feelings as he wants to be kind to his new sister that has been working for three whole days for them). February buys a head-scarf (Gripari notes that it is part of the "jewels" because it is the type of veil/scarf that has little gold coins woven into it, so that it makes noise whenever you shake your head) and offers it to BeautyX5... The next time the vain sisters ask the Sun who is the most beautiful, he answers it would have been their little sister... were she not dead and currently being prepared for her burial by the Twelve Months.

The story then abruptly cuts to the prince of the story: the young and only son of the king and queen of the land. One day, after he helped an old woman, she revealed herself as a fairy and gave him this advice: "Do not marry or accept any wedding proposal before you saw the grave of Five-Times Beautiful, else you will regret it all your life". The prince is quite puzzled so he asks his parents about what this whole grave and BeautyX5 story is about, and they don't know. He asks his ministers, and all of the servants of the palace, none know. But finally, a female servant whose job is to guard/herd the turkeys tell him that, if nobody has the answer, he should ask the Sun who knows everything.

The prince thus perform the same ritual the sisters did, and the Sun tells him the story of BeautyX5... But he can't tell him where she is buried, because the Months buried her by night, when he is absent. He redirects the prince to his sister, the Moon - but for now the Moon is a mere crescent, and the prince has to wait for her to be full before she can ask any question. Unfortunately the Moon is no help either, because the Months buried her in the forest, and she couldn't see what they did below the trees - so she redirects the prince to her brother, the Wind. The prince however has to wait for the wind to blow, which takes quite some times - a long time during which there's a lot of marriage offers he has to refuse. But when finally he contacts the Wind, it tells him to get on his horse: the Wind will push them to the grave with his blow.

Guided by the Wind, the prince finds where the Months buried BeautyX5: in a grotto near their house. Well "buried" isn't the exact term, because as with Snow-White, the Months couldn't hide away such a great beauty and kept her in a glass coffin. The prince discovers February by the side of the coffin: every day he comes, weeping for his sister. The prince, wanting to take a good look at the face of the Beauty, lifts the head-scarf ; February tries to stop him, but the Wind suddenly blows in the cave and blows the scarf away. And then we know the rest of the story: the girl wakes up, the prince decides to marry her, etc, etc...

The Twelve Months were invited to the wedding, and since then February became the patron and protector of the couple's kingdom - meaning that even in the heart of winter, people were certain that during the month of February they would never catch a cold because the weather was nice with them. As for the sisters... Gripari explains BeautyX5 never took her revenge against them, because she was a nice girl - but she still didn't forgave them, because she was an intelligent girl. She just left them in their village, and they stayed happy believing their sister was dead - but when they died, since they were "only moderately beautiful", they were buried like everyone else under the dirt.

The End.

[the-big-bad-dog]

We started our new campaign! Excited to to jump into this fractured fairytale world.

Here’s some quick character art of our party and the brief back story we got so far.

- Una is tired. Tired of being locked in towers, tired of being put into magical comas and especially tired of evil witches trying to sacrifice her for some weird lame ritual. Una just wants to live her life. So she decided to spend those times locked in towers and creepy old castles learning useful things. Like how to use a sword, how to harness her naturally given magical abilities and most importantly how to escape castles and towers. (CLERIC)

-As a low level member of a street gang that operates out of Capital City, Ella is quite resourceful and street savvy. Her life took an unexpected turn during a job gone wrong. Trying to flee Ella was pursued by the city guard until she was surrounded in the town square. In a last ditch effort to escape Ella climbed the fountain in the center of the square and pulled an old sword from the top prepared to fight. But to her shock the guards stopped and just stared in awe. Thats when Ella realized, it wasn’t an old sword she pulled from that stone but instead the legendary Excalibur. (PALADIN)

-Kik is a frog. A big ass frog but nonetheless a frog. Kik wasn’t always a frog. He was once a brave and mighty warrior… or at least he thinks. Truth is he has no clue of his passed life before he was cursed. He just knows his diet has dramatically changed. These days Kik spends his days utilizing his new frog like abilities to his advantage as a member of the thieves guild. He takes as many jobs as he can to hopefully make enough gold to pay a wizard to break the curse. (ROGUE)

-Sip is in the family business of monster hunting and she’s pretty damn good. She is almost ready to be head hunter of her own squad. That was until her last hunt when Sip temporarily changed into a beast. Now that Sips family found out that Sip herself is indeed a “monster.” she was exiled.. What kind of monster is she? No one knows yet, but that doesn’t mean the Party doesn’t wildly speculate. So far we incorrectly guessed flat earther, werewolf, werecat, weretiger, werebear and a really really old ugly hag. (RANGER)

- Roq just wants to be left alone with his dogs. Roq lived a simple life in a home he built in a place known as the Valley of the Dogs. The valley is home to hundreds of strays and even one Cerberus who Roq spends his days taking care of. Until recently, someone stole the Cerberus. So Roq determined to protect all the strays, left his fae chihuahua named Ethel in charge and set out to find his missing 3 headed buddy. (WEREWOLF FIGHTER)

- Juniper Dread Frost doesn’t know what to do with her life. She is supposed to be the heir to the Witch throne of the North but she’s just too damn nice. Shes suppose to be torturing any poor and unfortunate soul who wander to far into the frozen woods but instead she gives them directions. She’s a lost cause. Now she’s on the run. She wants to to be free to make her own choices. Unfortunately The only thing in Junipers way is her mother, The Evil Witch Queen of the North Jacqueline Frost. (WITCH)

- Kris Pine was raised by trees. Yep trees. He was abandoned as an infant near the Wandering Woods. The Tree folk of the woods couldn’t bare to leave him and thus took him in as their own. Kris grew up to be a strong and fierce protector of the woods. Until One night as the trees slept an airship arrived and strange metallic men dropped from the skies and started chopping down tree folk and taking them. After fighting off the invaders and seeing the aftermath Kris was filled with rage and decided to set out and get his revenge. (WILD MAGIC BARBARIAN)

- Captain de la Vega was once the most feared pirate in the Seven Seas. Known to be quite ruthless and cutthroat, even the most deadly pirates feared him. That was until he disappeared. There have been many wild speculations on what happened to him and his crew. Some say they encountered a leviathan, some say a terrible storm and others say they all killed each other over rum. Even Del himself can’t recall what happened. All Del remembers is that he woke bloody, beaten and missing a hand on an unknown island. Luckily, a warrior tribe native to the island aided him and nursed him back to health. Del took this as a second chance at life. He vowed to never become the vile man he was before. (MONK)

[mercerislandbooks]

A Touch of Darkness

The signs of fall are all around. Leaves are swirling, gathering in roads and sidewalks. Darker mornings and evenings. The rain and wind bluster through in violent downpours. Halloween is this weekend, and Island Books has had a spooky reads table set up all month long, as well as a great display back in kids with Halloween reads for all ages. But whenever I’m asked about psychological thrillers or horror recommendations, I don’t have much to offer, big scaredy-cat that I am. 

However, there’s more than one genre that incorporates elements of horror, and I find I’m very comfortable with the dark, spooky, and downright macabre when it comes to fairy tale retellings and fantasy novels. Ghosts, blood, and evil spirits -- I don’t bat an eye as long as it’s set in some other place and time, preferably long ago and far away.

If you happen to be of my persuasion when it comes to reads of the spookier sort, here are three recent releases of fairytale retellings and fantasy that dip their toes in the darkness.

A Spindle Splintered by Alix E. Harrow

After reading and loving Alix E. Harrow’s two other books, The Ten Thousand Doors of January and The Once and Future Witches, I was excited to pick up her newest novella. I’d already come to expect Harrow’s clever writing and feminist voice. What I didn’t expect was the way she enters into the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale. Instead of being pure fantasy, we begin in present day with Zinnia Gray on her 21st birthday, chronically and terminally ill. When she pricks her finger on a spinning wheel during her hilariously Sleeping Beauty themed party, she’s transported just in time to interrupt another “Sleeping Beauty” from enacting her own cursed spinning wheel moment. Zinnia finds herself caught in this other world, trying to find a way home, while helping Princess Primrose escape her own curse. The writing is funny, sharply observant, and subversive. I love the way Harrow dissects the various iterations of the Sleeping Beauty story, the connection she draws to Zinnia’s medical condition, and the way she keeps her characters fighting to free themselves from the roles others proscribe for them. Physically, the book itself is beautifully designed, with cut out illustrations throughout from “Arthur Rackam’s original illustrations for The Sleeping Beauty, fractured and reassembled by Greg Collins.”(back jacket copy). A fractured fairy tale indeed. For anyone wanting a quick read (you could probably read it cover to cover in an evening) that gives no quarter to the patriarchy, this is the novella for you.

Little Thieves by Margaret Owen

Local Seattle author Margaret Owen’s Little Thieves would be an excellent book pairing with A Spindle Splintered. I’d already loved her The Merciful Crow duology and was looking forward to seeing how she handled a retelling of The Goose Girl fairy tale. Owen loosely refers to the original story, and the greedy servant who takes the place of the princess with a magic string of pearls is our heroine. Vanja is a scrappy, savvy thirteenth daughter of a thirteenth daughter, trying to outrun her so-called bad luck. Given up by her mother to the Low Gods of Death and Fortune, we initially meet Vanja as she uses her disguise of being the princess Gisele von Falbirg to steal jewels from the wealthy in the midst of a lavish party given on her behalf. But when Vanja also inadvertently steals a protective ring from another Low God, she is cursed to little by little turn into the gems she covets unless she makes up for what she has stolen. Not only that, but Gisele’s erstwhile fiancé has suddenly returned. Vanja needs to find a way out of the curse and out of the wedding and, ideally, out of her country all together. Owen intersperses the story with short “tales” that illuminate Vanja’s past, headed by lovely illustrations done by Owen herself. While the story has the feel of a heist caper, it also doesn’t shy away from exposing stiflingly pervasive misogyny, using Vanja’s sarcastically observant voice. A diverse cast of characters adds to the relevance. Vanja isn’t the only one with past trauma to reckon with and Owen handles these moments with great tenderness and sensitivity. Humorous, heartbreaking and completely engaging throughout. Little Thieves is perfect for Six of Crows fans.

Vespertine by Margaret Rogerson

Author of store favorites An Enchantment of Ravens and Sorcery of Thorns, Margaret Rogerson has a new dark YA fantasy set in a world inspired by medieval France. In the land of Loraille, after an event called The Sorrow, those who die by tragic means will rise from the dead as malevolent spirits, unless the bodies are specially cleansed. This is the work that Artemisia is training to do as a Gray Sister. But when her convent is attacked by an army of possessed soldiers, Artemisia is forced to defend her fellow sisters by wielding a powerful relic, and waking an ancient powerful spirit called a revenant. By doing so Artemisia makes a tenuous partnership with the revenant and is thrust into a battle to save the people of her country from the ever increasing spirits and possessed that are mysteriously overrunning Loraille. Rogerson lightly evokes Joan of Arc in the character of Artemisia. She struggles to understand how to channel the power she now possesses, and discern who to trust while she and the revenant try to untangle the darkness infesting their land. As the story unfolds, we learn more about the early trauma that shaped Artemisia and the tentative threads of relationship between her and the revenant begin to address and heal some of these wounds. The veteran fantasy reader will appreciate Rogerson’s detailed world building. I found the twists and turns of the plot kept me guessing to the very end. And while the conclusion was totally satisfying, I’m still looking forward to a promised sequel, due out next fall!

For anyone wanting a slightly spooky read, generously seasoned with humor, and perhaps a touch of snark, I hope one of these books piques your interest!

-- Lori

[mrsgiovanna]

The Request (Don Giorno x Fem! Reader)

I don't really know what to call this, it's just an idea that's been living in my head for a while. Kind of disorganised... Just like my thoughts in general 💭😅

TW : possessive, somewhat yandere Behaviour, part 5 spoilers.

The sharp clattering of your heels against the exquisite marble floor was the only sound to break the silence. You walked briskly, a woman on a mission no doubt. Today would be the day you try and pry back a morsel of the freedom you lost when you took up residence with your overbearing lover all those years go. As you make your way to your destination you wonder how you got to this point, you couldn’t fathom how such a small request could require as much effort and preparation. This is definitely a far cry from when you first met the green-eyed charmer. Falling for him was as simple as falling asleep, it happened slowly, softly, being lulled by his velvety voice, and then all at once.

By the time you realized you were pulled into a dream, your surroundings morphed into a nightmare. Not the kind with hideous monsters blatantly chasing after your blood, no, this was the more dangerous kind- the eerily beautiful kind without anything to swiftly jolt you awake.

You’d finally reached your destination on the east wing of the mansion, a large, ornately carved mahogany door, with golden accents on the vines that decorated its frame. You paused, in part to compose yourself, but also to think about whether or not you were ready for the consequences that would follow this conversation, if you could even call it one.

“Come in”.

 You steeled yourself, briefly gazing to your left to look at yourself in the gold-framed mirror that took up most of that wall. You smoothed down your hair, and made sure your expertly applied makeup was still in place. A quick adjustment of your designer dress and a stern glare into your sparkling eyes gave you the courage you needed to knock on the door.

“Good morning amore mio, its rather early for you to be awake and that dressed up. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

It was all the invitation you needed as you opened the heavy door and slowly walked in. Greeted by your lover’s soft smile, you felt your heart waver, but your resolve returned when you noticed that that smile had not reached his emerald eyes.

You were taken aback by the tenderness in his voice, wondering how he could sound so gentle while his eyes looked so intimidating. You were jolted out of your reverie as he softly cleared his throat.

“Giorno, I … I was hoping to speak to you about something… its rather important.”

You’d slightly grimaced at your choice of words, feeling your resolve slowly dissipating, you had come here to make a demand but ended up phrasing it as a tentative suggestion… but the door was opened now, and you’d have to follow through. All the months of behaving and complying with the countless rules, all the subtle warnings, they simply couldn’t count for naught, not after being so careful.

Giorno had looked at his beloved and motioned for her to continue. He mused about what his wife would want to pick his brain about, in fact he knew exactly what she wanted but he put that thought to the back of his mind as it was the one thing he could absolutely not allow.

 “Gio, please let me go to the city, I need to see Paolo, he’s not doing too well and desperately needs my help… and I’m all the family he has left.” You tried to keep your voice from cracking but failed, speaking about your brother was always painful. Even though he was a year older than you, you had always taken care of him. You had even ended up joining the gang to pay off his drug debts. Despite numerous stays at the best rehab facilities that money could buy, he just couldn’t manage to stay sober. You had to admit that it hurt you to see the pathetic state your brother was in, considering how much you had lost when you helped Giorno betray Diavolo and usurp Passione to reform it.

Bruno’s death was especially difficult for you to deal with as he was the one anchoring force in a life filled with instability. You mourned the deaths of your friends for a long time, however, the one loss you found the most difficult to contend with was the one you hadn’t even been aware of until it was too late.

You stared hopefully at the man you so desperately loved, hoping against all possibilities that the answer would be a favorable one. His gaze shifted, he looked down pensively as you sat across him drinking in the ethereal beauty that Giorno embodies. He’s matured so much, you think to yourself, his face having lost that innocent quality, was now sharp and handsome, as if it had been sculpted by the gods themselves. This was offset by the luxurious mane that cascaded down his back and over his shoulder like liquid gold, favoring to wear his hair loose now, in stark contrast to the immaculate braid he worn when you had first met him.  His tailored suits hugged all the contours of his well-built frame, he was indeed a sight to behold, however, his eyes- his eyes unsettled you. You felt as if they stared directly into your soul.

It had been a few years after Giorno had taken over Passione that your friendship had blossomed into something more. Slowly falling, date after date, feelings intensified and it wouldn’t be long before you two were inseparable. Soon after, you noticed Giorno becoming a little more involved in your life, but that’s what happens when you’re in a relationship you reasoned to yourself, however, as time went on, his gentle grasp had turned into a vice-like grip. You blamed it on the traumatic events of your shared past, but there was something else there that you couldn’t quite fathom.  So you had stayed silent, slowly losing more and more freedom until you were completely under the Don’s control. You cursed your complacency for letting it come to this, however, you loved Giorno, and you would never, ever want to hurt him, regardless of how his actions may have hurt you.

“Bella”, the sound of his voice brought you out of your thoughts for the second time this morning.

“As much as I’d love to let you go, it’s simply too dangerous to be anywhere near a place like that, nor can I allow him anywhere near this safe haven I’ve painstakingly created for us.”

 You were just about to interject with the argument you’d rehearsed so many times, when his sharp glare had silenced you. You recoiled back into your chair, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Upon seeing this, Giorno’s heart broke. When had you become this afraid of him? Had all his measures to keep you safe from harm manifest in him becoming your biggest threat? All he had ever wanted was to keep you safe.

He had lost so much... precious allies had been violently ripped away from him, he was fully aware that fate could be a cruel mistress. Losing you as well was not an option. Being the Don of Passione came with many perks, he basically held the entire of Italy in the palm of his elegant hand. Only the best was good enough for his principessa, and he was able to give this to you. But every fairytale has to have a villain, or in this case, a series of villains, sent to weaken him or eradicate him altogether. When these people had realized it was virtually impossible to counter his stand ability, they found other ways to attempt to bring him to his knees, and that involved hurting you. Numerous attempts at both his and your lives successfully thwarted without your knowledge had only further cemented Giorno’s belief that the only way to keep you safe was through isolation.

With the finality of his tone, you gave up on your little mission and melted into his embrace. You mentally chided yourself for not putting up more of a fight, but there was something in the way that Giorno held you that fractured your already fragile heart. The slight tremble of his arms and the uneven breathing were evidence enough that he was extremely conflicted by something, and that his decisions were not made from malicious intentions... Perhaps... You just wished he would let you in, that he wouldn’t shoulder this burden on his own. You wanted to close the gap between you two, and with that you made a silent promise to yourself and him, that you would heal your fractured hearts, no matter the cost.

“I’m sorry amore mio, I know I’m being cruel, but… there are many things at play… one day you will understand.”

Giorno knew his words sounded condescending, he knew that with each time he refused your small requests, the divide between you two grew larger, but he was determined to protect you, no matter the cost. All he could do was savor this warmth and the way you clung desperately to his form.

 The last thing he wanted was for you to be unhappy or scared, so telling you about these affairs was not an option… perhaps until now. Seeing the tears pooling in your eyes was almost too much for him to bear, he needed to comfort you despite feeling guilty for being the reason you’re in this state. He slowly made his way toward you, seating himself next to you, he wrapped you in a warm embrace. That action only encouraged your tears to flow freely, being soaked up by the expensive fabric of his suit. With each soft sob, Giorno felt his heart would shatter.

[meetmrgrimlock]

The Fundamental Problem of RWBY

RWBY is a show that I loved the first three seasons of, and enjoyed parts of later seasons. I haven’t gotten the chance to watch any of season 8 yet, so some of what I state here might be corrected, dear god I hope any of what I say here is corrected, but I’ve figured out what I believe to be the core of why RWBY has gone downhill in terms of story.

RWBY, embodies the sentence: “I fight because I refuse to die.” It sounds really cool and interesting, and is so on the surface, but once you think about it, once you peer past that surface, you begin to understand the faults in it. In addition, that sentence also describes the plot quite well, and the problem with the plot. The plot of RWBY, as it is eventually explained, is that Salem wishes to collect the four relics given to humanity by the gods. The cast of RWBY, wish to keep Salem from doing that, and somehow stop Salem. Sounds great, right? Interesting? But then you realize why Salem collecting the relics is a problem. It’s not that Salem will obtain incredible power from them, she already is one of the only characters in their world able to use magic. It’s not that she will become unstoppable, she’s already immortal. And it’s not that she will take over the world or anything, her Grimm are keeping humanity stuck in four tiny, fractured kingdoms barely keeping themselves afloat and she has influence everywhere. When she collects all the relics, it summons the gods who abandoned their world to judge humanity. And, whether the protagonists consciously are aware of this or not, they all recognize that when the gods come to judge them, they will deem humanity unworthy of living any longer.

The theme of RWBY is hopelessness, and it’s supposed to be that the protagonists are trying to maintain hope. But, none of them are trying to be more than they are, except for one, but she gave up on that dream.

Yang was the only one with any real goal that they wished to achieve, being meeting her mom, but even that was from sheer spite and anger. She has underground connections, so she probably has a good understanding of how bad the world can be, yet doesn’t make any attempt whatsoever to make it better. She’s had the most obvious example of hopelessness, being the period after she lost her arm where she perceived herself as useless and a burden. Even when she had the rematch against Adam, it wasn’t her seeking out Adam to prove she had grown, hell it wasn’t even really her fight. She realized something was up with Blake and saw the fight when she came to check on her. They defeated Adam, together, purely because he was hunting them down and not because they desired to stop him. Overall, outside of keeping her sister and the other characters she perceives as family safe, Yang isn’t fighting because there is something worth protecting, but because she doesn’t want her tiny little group of friends to be killed.

Weiss comes from a family where her mother is drowning herself in alcohol, her father is a corrupt businessman-slash-politician, her older sister has abandoned the family for the army, and her younger brother is following in their father’s footsteps. Her only desire was to go down her own path, away from her family, which also implies that she has neither any hope that her family can become better nor any hope that the business or political parts of their world can be made pure. As a huntress, her explicit goal is to be difference from her family, which also implies she is one of a great many in their world who believe that there is no real way to stop the Grimm. Weiss is shown to have no desire to stop Salem outside of keeping the world from ending. AKA, Weiss is fighting because she doesn’t want to let their world die, and not because she believes it deserves to live.

Blake was part of the White Fang, a group whose original goal was to abolish Faunus persecution and racism, which is a good start, but that was a pre-existing group that she joined rather than started, and she continued to follow as it steadily lost sight of its original goal in favor of Faunus supremacy until she realized that wasn’t why she joined and she ran away. Another point to hopelessness: she didn’t believe she could return the White Fang to how it once was. Being Faunus herself, she has firsthand experience and the best understanding of the persecution Faunus receive and the true depravity of humans. As a huntress, at first, it was just a believable cover so that she could lay low whilst still keeping tabs on the White Fang in case they caught onto her trail. So far, 3-3 for characters fighting because they don’t want to die, instead of believing their world is worth fighting for.

And then we have Ruby. Poor, poor Ruby. The one who was clearly meant to be the hope that fueled the theme of the story and the reason the other characters kept going. The one who was the most hopeful, the only one who had the desire to make the world better, who saw the good that was buried in everything no matter how deep, who believed there was a way to stop the Grimm, that there would indeed be a happy ending. The one that was told to grow up and gave up on that dream. Out of the four explanations we were given over the course of season one for why each member of team RWBY was training to be a huntress, Ruby’s stood out. So much so that even the other characters stopped for a moment to take it in. Blake wanted to escape from her past, Weiss wanted to walk her own path, and Yang was just in it for the thrill, but Ruby wanted to be like the heroes she heard of in fairytales that saved the world from evil. She was fantastic as a leader, not just because she was intelligent and came up with good plans, but because she was so supportive. It was something that extended past her team, she was practically Beacon’s personal sun with how she clearly cheered up the other characters. With Penny, and her instantaneous acceptance of the ginger being a robot. With Faunus, and her seeming lack of care whether or not someone has animal features. With Jayne, despite his lack of skill and self-depreciating beginning. She was uniting people, making the world around her better. But then came The Fall. Penny and Pyrrha died in front of her, Beacon fell, her sister lost an arm, her entire team split apart, and for all intents and purposes she lost hope. Something she never really regained, as evidenced by her difficulty in calling upon The Silver Eyes. The Silver Eyes, as explained by Maria, activate when the person desires to protect life. The Ruby at the start of the show would have had no problem at all calling upon the power, but the one after season 3 can’t truly get herself to believe that she can protect anyone. Thus why it was so difficult for her to call upon it, why she both needed so much help when she did call upon it and failed anyway after activating it against Grimm Godzilla. The only character in the show who had any desire to make the world a better place, who had any belief that the world could be a better place, and she lost it. While she is essentially the head of the charge, Ruby is fighting because the world needs to be saved, and not because she believes she can save it.

There are many more examples throughout, of course, like James not only believing that the only way to combat Salem is to go somewhere she can’t follow, but never directing any of his massive army towards actually leading an assault on the Grimm. Or Ozpin, who gave up entirely on the idea of stopping Salem, barely attempted to better the world in the first place, and believes the only route to take is stalling as long as possible. Or Raven, the epitome of ‘there’s no way to win, so don’t bother trying.’

In the end, RWBY’s main fault is that it establishes a sense of hopelessness and stomps out the hope that was supposed to combat it. An easy solution would be if any of the major characters actually believed that there is something worth fighting for or attempt in some way to make the world worth fighting for. The preferable solution is to return Ruby to what she originally was supposed to be, an icon of hope that things can get better. ‘Hopefully’, any of that happens in season 8 when I get the time to watch it instead of typing shit like this out as I’m walking home from work, but I doubt it. That’s all I really gotta say, so see ya.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi, love!! First of all, I'm discovering wonderful fics I've never read because of people's questions in your Tumblr so... thank you so f****** much!!! Now, do you have a list or would you recommend me some fics where John is a doctor? Can be in Afghanistan, with Sarah, AUs of any time and type... But where John being a doctor is an important part of the fic or the principal one. Thank you, lovely!! By the way, I've been reading your comments about the John hate and I agree with you!! 😘😘

Hi Lovely!

Ahhhhh okay you’re in luck, because I was sorting a list of “sick fics” and one of the categories was “John Takes Care of Sherlock” so I can add those onto these other “doctor John” fics!  I don’t know if I have any where he is strictly a doctor, but let’s see what’s sorted in my bookmarks right now!

DOCTOR / CARETAKER JOHN

Whispers in the Dark by coloured_ink (G, 833 w. || Bed Sharing, Anxious Sherlock, Anxiety, Caring John, Spooning, Little Spoon Sherlock) – Sherlock has anxiety attacks. Good thing John always knows what to do.

Static by Johnnlocked (Krullenbol2602) (G, 917 w. || Fluff, H/C, Doctor John, Headaches, POV Sherlock, Fluff, H.C, Pre-TSo3) – Sherlock suffers from a headache.

The Most Awful Thing by whitchry9 (K+, 1,072 w. || H/C, Holmes Brothers, Seizures) – When Mycroft witnesses Sherlock having a seizure, he is at a complete loss as to what he should do. Thankfully, John is there.

Cuddling by GraciousK (G, 1,107 w. || Fluff and Angst, Cuddling/Snuggling, Fluff, Hypothermia) – When John finally finds Sherlock, he’s hypothermic and delirious. John warms him up the only way Sherlock will allow: body heat. It ends up more angsty than sexy. Part 2 of 30-day OTP Challenge: Johnlock

Bringing Colour to the World by SD_Ryan (G, 1,168w. || Est. Relationship, Sickfic, Fluff, Schmoop) – In which we encounter a sick detective, a snuggle on the couch, and a silly fairytale.

Shut Up and Sleep by Cumberbatch Critter (T, 1,257 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship) – Sherlock has a knack for hurting himself, although not entirely on purpose. John is a doctor, and it’s a good thing he’s there.

Mentality by Cumberbatch Critter (T, 1,350 w. || Friendship, Hurt / Comfort, THoB Fic, Doctor John) – It was weird. But Sherlock was having a panic attack. Re-write of the Hounds of the Baskerville scene. 

Lost Without My Army Doctor by ItsRealForUs (K, 1,499 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Migraines, Doctor John, Domestics) – Sherlock’s fighting a losing battle with his migraine when John comes home to help.

The Two of Us Against the World by slashscribe (T, 1,617 w. || Post-TAB, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Anxious Sherlock, Angsty Fluff) – John is there to take care of Sherlock as he comes down from his overdose in The Abominable Bride. Set immediately after the tarmac, back in 221B.

Conciliatory Coffee (It’s All Fine) by dget (K+, 1,635 w. || Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Post-TRF Reunion) – "He can feel John’s shuddering breaths in his own lungs, feel John’s heart beating behind his own sternum.“ Because John Watson is a doctor, and Sherlock Holmes is a detective, and neither really knows how to be anything else. A post-Reichenbach reunion oneshot. Can be read as Johnlock.

The Doctor’s Capable Hands by Totally-Out-Of-It (K+, 2,012 w. || Sherlock Whump, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Anxious Sherlock) – Sherlock is injured during a chase. John sits watchful at his bedside in the hospital and wonders. He wouldn’t leave Sherlock alone like this. Especially not if Sherlock wanted him to stay.

This is Life in Colour by agent iz hyper (K+, 2,038 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Sherlock Whump, Doctor John) – John thought with a flash of amusement that only Sherlock Holmes could look like he was about to pass out and still maintain his usual level of acerbic scorn. “You’re a git,” he told him mildly. “And an idiot,” he added as an afterthought, though no less pointedly.  A look into the perks of being both a doctor and a soldier when one is the friend of Sherlock Holmes.

Assurance by belovedmuerto (T, 2,382 w. || Bed-Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Idiots in Love) – It’s not so much the ‘you’re half-dead, you wanker,’ or even the broken ribs, the hairline fracture of the pelvis, the dislocated shoulder and knee, and the wrenched ankle.

Intensive Care by aceofhearts61 (T, 2,539 w. || Ace!Sherlock / Straight John Queerplatonic Relationship, Hurt Comfort, Angst, Cuddles and Snuggles, Hugs, Doctor!John, Medical Procedures) – In which John looks after Sherlock directly following the events of “Bless You and Keep You.” Sequel Fic. Part 15 of A Love with No Name

Green Carnation by glenien (T, 2,616 w. || Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Meta-Fic, Angst and Fluff, Communication, Post-TAB) – John takes Sherlock home. Part 1 of It’s No Longer Eighteen Ninety-Five

Someone Else’s Heart by thisprettywren (E, 4,188 w. || First Time, H/C, POV Sherlock, Caretaking John, Pining Idiots) – A crime scene, a rainstorm, and something they both should have known all along.

The Sum of His Parts by CommonNonsense (T, 4,311 w. || Body Worship, First Kiss / Time) – There are eleven major organ systems in the human body. Sherlock knows about all of them to some degree, but none fascinate him as much as the ones that make up John Watson.

Very Good Indeed by StillWaters1 (T, 4,531 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Doctor John, John Whump) – John Watson was a doctor, trained to observe details; a fact Sherlock had never been more aware of than when a drugged John’s lifesaving instructions were based on an unlabeled syringe and an unconscious murder suspect’s body.

This Time by Radon65 (T, 4,766 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship) –  He has practically just finished talking to Lestrade when it happens. A sudden dizziness assaults his brain, things tip sideways, and he barely catches himself on the arm of the sofa to slow his descent before he collapses altogether to the floor.

A Case of Identity by PostcardsfromTheoryland (T, 4,978 w. ||  Post-TRF, John on Holiday, Pining Sherlock, Whump, Angst, Reunion) – All John wanted was to get away from London for a few weeks. No people pointing and whispering about Sherlock Holmes when he walked past, no reporters wanting an “exclusive” about the dead detective, just some rest and relaxation in the sunshine. Then again, these holiday trips never seem to go as planned.

Needles by Kryptaria (M, 5,194 w. || Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Needles, Referenced/Implied Drug Use, Doctor John) – At the end of January, 2010, John and Sherlock move to 221-B Baker Street. By mid-February, John takes up his role not only as Sherlock’s guardian and helper, but also his doctor. As the months pass, they grow closer and the trust between them deepens, until Sherlock puts it to the ultimate test.

I think You Need A Doctor by TheGoodDirector (M, 5,254 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Sherlock Whump, Mistaken Couple, Humour, Platonics, Mary is Nice) – John’s not been to Baker Street in four months and returns to find a bleeding Consulting Detective. John can’t help but take care and put up with him. Set after The Sign of Three/Before His Last Vow.

Recovery by thesignsofserbia (T, 5,948 w. || HLV-Fix It / Rewrite, Villain Mary, Pining Sherlock, Major Character Injury, Scars, Self-Hatred, POV Sherlock, Doctor John, Friends to Lovers) – Set after the confrontation with Mary, and Sherlock’s cardiac arrest, John stays at 221B to aid Sherlock’s recovery, forcing them to confront wounds both old and new as they try to heal their damaged relationship.

The Death of Doubt by Gingerhermit (E, 6,584 w. || Alternate Canon, BAMF John, POV Sherlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Hurt/Comfort, Angst/Drama, Meddling Mycroft) – Mycroft asks for John’s help in rescuing Sherlock from his Serbian captors.

Survival Instinct by shirleyholmes (T, 7,162 w. || Post-TRF, First Kiss, Schmoop, Nightmares, Fluff & Angst, Grief, Idiots in Love) – After Sherlock’s “comeback” John starts obsessing with constantly making sure he’s alive (checking his heartbeat etc.)

The doctor is in by PlainJane (E, 7,581 w. || Omegaverse || Sex Therapist, Anal, Hand Jobs, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock is a young alpha with an aversion to his cycle. John is a gender medicine specialist. Nothing could possibly go wrong… Part 1 of Doctors and detectives

I’m Pretty Sure This Changes Shit by cwb (E, 7,672 w. || Fluff, Cudding, Doctor/Patient, Accidents) – Sherlock finds increasingly ridiculous ways to get John to patch him up after hurting himself.

The T-Shirt Thief by watsonsherlocksuniverse (T, 7,968 w. || Pining Sherlock, Doctor John, First Kiss, Canon Fix-It, Developing Rel., Mutual Pining) – Sherlock steals John’s t-shirt from the laundry. John catches him wearing it one evening, fluff ensues with an endeared yet teasing John?

You’re a Doctor, Fix me by edken (G, 8,342 w. || Fluff / Cuddling) – Sherlock doesn’t do anything halfway, and that includes getting sick. John nurses a very sick flatmate back to health using cuddles, forehead kisses, and a massage. Humor and fluff promised this time, but also some character analysis because who doesn’t love that?

Matters of National Security by mistyzeo (E, 8,465 w. || Jealous Sherlock, First Time, RST, Idiots in Love, Frottage) – John starts dating a male client of Sherlock’s, and Sherlock can’t figure out why he’s so incensed about it.

Incapacitation by Cumberbatch Critter (T, 9,424 w. || Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Sick Sherlock, Doctor John, Appendicitis) – The doctor had just asked how bad the pain was when the pain spiked. Sherlock’s initial response was a gasp that evolved into a whimper. “Ten,” he gasped. “Ten…”

Someone I Love by hudders-and-hiddles (M, 10,002 w. || Canon Compliant, HLV-Filler Fic, Pre-Slash, Jealous John, PIning Sherlock, Angst & Fluff, UST/URT, Dog Tags) – John gets married and Sherlock finds comfort in wearing John’s identity tags around his wrist.

The Thin Line by Odamaki (M, 10,809 w. || Virgin Sherlock, Awkwardness, Confessions, First Times, Anal) – John swallows. Keeps his eyes on Sherlock. Begs him not to ruin him.Sherlock leans forward over the witness box ever-so slightly, “I was distracted,” he informs the court, “by my partner, John Watson.”

In A Changing Age by allonsys_girl (E, 15,590 w. || Victorian AU, Virgin / Demi Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Mild H/C) – Sherlock wakes up in the 19th century, with no idea how he got there.

Partners in Crime by Richefic (T, 16,560 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Sick John, Meddling Mycroft, Caring Sherlock, Domestics) – John Watson receives some devastating news which puts a spanner in his medical ambitions. Will Sherlock prove capable of the kind of comfort and reassurance he needs or will their partnership be ended before its even begun? Set between 1.1 and 1.2.

I Will Take Care Of You by SailorChibi (T, 16,664 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Sick Sherlock, BAMF John, BAMF Lestrade, Reunion Fic) – Two years after Sherlock’s death, John comes to find him on the sofa. Wounded and ill, Sherlock is convinced he’s hallucinating and refuses to share any details about Moran or the fact that Mycroft has been compromised. That doesn’t stop John from stepping up and taking care of the last of Moriarty’s web, BAMF-style.

And A Doctor by StillWaters1 (T, 27,393 w. || Friendship, Doctor John, Whump, Soldier / Doctor Dichotomy, Five and One) – It was only when people actually saw John working as a physician that they began to understand: that it wasn’t just about bullets and IEDs and trauma care under fire. That “doctor” actually covered a pretty wide field. And that John was bloody good at covering ground. 5 times Dr. Watson treated others and 1 time he treated himself.

The Midas Touch by flawedamythyst (E, 32,231 w. || Magical Realism, John has a Magical Cock, Dub Con, Healer John) – John Watson has a medical condition that means everyone he sleeps with is instantly healed of all illness and injury. This causes complications when Sherlock breaks his arm, and even more complications when Sherlock falls in love with him. Yes, this is a story where John has a literal magic healing cock. It’s a lot less cracky than you’re probably imagining. Warning: Contains complex issues of sexual consent, although not between Sherlock and John.

The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror (E, 34,952 w. || H/C, Nightmares, HLV Fix-It, PTSD, Trauma, POV Sherlock, Doctor John) – Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.

Corpus Hominis by mycapeisplaid (E, 47,709 w. || Casefic, Fluff, Romance, Frottage) - John knows the human body intimately. He’s had plenty of opportunity for study as a doctor, soldier, and lover. There’s one particular body, however, he knows very little about. When Sherlock launches himself head-first into a new obsession and they get sent on a case in an unlikely location, the pair discovers each other’s bodies with confusing yet delightful (and sometimes hilarious) results.

Electric Pink Hand Grenade by BeautifulFiction (E, 67,718 w. | First Time, First Kiss, Headaches and Migranes) – If Sherlock’s brain is a hard drive, then these attacks are an electro-magnetic pulse.“ Sherlock Holmes does not do anything by half, not even a migraine. It falls to John to witness one of the greatest minds he has ever known tear itself apart, and he must do his best to help Sherlock pick up the pieces.

The Moonlight and the Frost by CaitlinFairchild (E, 77,289 w. || Case Fic, Post-HLV, Self Harm, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Oral/Anal/Rimming, Romance, Angst, Mary is Not Nice) – John has to somehow rebuild his life in the wake of Mary’s betrayal and Sherlock’s deceptions.

To Light Another’s Path by BeautifulFiction (E, 128,654 w. || Post-TGG, H/C, Case Fic, First Time/Kiss, Drug Addiction) – Teaching John to observe seems to be a losing battle, but when Sherlock falls ill and submits himself to John’s care, will he realise that there is more to life than the science of deduction? Meanwhile, there is a murder to solve, and John must try and convince Sherlock not to sacrifice his own health for the sake of the case.

The Horse and his Doctor by khorazir (T, 129,003 w. || Horse / Vet AU || Magical Realism, Horses, Vet John, Horse Sherlock, Implied Alcoholism) – Invalided after a run in with a poacher in Siberia, veterinary surgeon John Watson finds it difficult to acclimatise to the mundanity of London life. Things change when a friend invites him along to a local animal shelter and he meets their latest acquisition, a trouble-making Frisian with the strangest eyes and even stranger quirks John has ever encountered in a horse.

MARKED FOR LATER

These fics are just a few I remembered I put into my MFL list recently, and I haven’t read them yet, so read at your own discretion!

A Home for Us by sussexbound (NR, 3,440 w. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

How They Move In Silence by Breath4Soul (M, 3,516+ w., WiP || Doctor John, Doctor/Patient, Voiceless Sherlock, Sick Sherlock, Texting) – Sherlock loses his voice and has to communicate through texts which leads to love confessions.

Recovery by mainegirlwrites (M, 26,935 w. || Injured Sherlock, Disfigured Sherlock, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, John Takes Care of Sherlock) – The great Sherlock Holmes is recovering from disfiguring injuries with the help of Dr. John Watson - but can a broken spirit be fixed?

You Go To My Head Series by 7PercentSolution and J_Baillier (E, 257,765+ w. across 8 Stories, WiP || Surgeon AU || Medical Realism, Doctor John / Doctor Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Addiction, Angst, Slow Burn, PTSD, Pining, Insecurity) – This series is an alternate universe one, featuring the exciting medical and romantic adventures of doctors Watson (senior neuroanaesthetist) and Holmes (neurosurgeon).

[lapdropworldwide]

Jennifer Egan Leads a Tour of Her Latest Fractured Fairytale

Jennifer Egan Leads a Tour of Her Latest Fractured Fairytale

Photo Illustration by Luis G. Rendon/The Daily Beast/Getty ​​ In the song “Fashion,” David Bowie once warned, “We are the Goon Squad and we’re coming to town.” Beep beep, indeed. Now—following her own Bowiesque tendency toward technological and societal speculation—Jennifer Egan’s Pulitzer-winning Goon Squad has returned, this time via a sequel entitled The Candy House: a postmodern fairy tale…

[orias]

95 Random Questions - Orias

1. What is your full name? George Michael Jabar Karam

2. Are you named after anyone? My Fathers, Fathers, Fathers, Father

3. What does your name mean? The Farmer

4. Where are you from? Under the Sky, Upon the Rock

5. Where do you live? In Fire

6. Where were you born? In Water

7. Which of your parents are you closest to? Equally far from both

8. Which of your parents are you more like? Neither... Equally disturbed as both

9. What is your favorite drink? Water

10. What is your favorite food? Pizza [Mexicana]

11. What is your favorite holiday destination? No clue, constantly searching

12. What is your favorite childhood memory? Running away

13. What is your favorite way to pass time? Dreaming

14. What is your favorite snack? Chocolate

15. What is your favorite sport? King if the Hill

16. What is your biggest regret? Waiting

17. Are you a fan of any sports team? The Underdogs

18. Are you a dog person or cat person? Both, depending on the attitude of the creature before me

19. Are you scared of heights? Indeed, but I can fly so it's a love / hate

20. At what age did you go on your first date? 12, it was a group date to the movies and I was shy as fuck

21. What is an ideal first date for you? Anything that doesn't feel like a date

22. What is at the top of your bucket list? Nothing, the desire to to desire nothing

23. What is something you are gifted at? Fighting my demons

24. What is something you look for in a partner? Someone who's able to show me the demons I never knew I had

25. What is something you wish you were gifted at doing? No giving a fuck

26. What is the one item you can’t leave home without? My dancing spirit

27. What is the best compliment you have ever received? You have a Beautiful Mind

28. What is the first book you remember reading? The Bible

29. What is the first movie you remember seeing? The Lion King

30. What is the last book you read? Still reading - The Book of Five Rings

31. Do you like pets? Yes, though it's better if they're treated like family

32. Do you have any pets? No, but I have a beautiful baby girl named Stassie, she's a K9

33. What is the name of your first pet? Max

34. What is your best physical feature? I don't know, my belly button =/

35. What is your biggest accomplishment? Hasn't been accomplished yet

36. What is your eye color? They change

37. What is your favorite color? Red

38. What is your favorite fairytale? I've drawn a blank

39. What is your favorite ice-cream flavor? Caramel

40. What is your favorite music genre? It all depends on the composer

41. What is your favorite nickname? Tarzan

42. What is your favorite quote? "Satisfaction is death. As long as I live, I'll always have wants..." - George Bernard Shaw

43. What is your favorite type of clothing? Comfortable, yet easily removable

44. What is your most commonly used swear word? Bitch / Fucker

45. What is your star sign? Taurus

46. Do you have a best friend, if so, then who? Hard to say...

47. Do you have a tattoo? Nope

48. Do you have any allergies? Nope

49. Do you have any birthmarks? Yes... If so, where? Belly and on the top of my backside [They're matching]

50. Do you hold any convictions that you would be willing to die for? Ending Injustice

51. Do you prefer kissing or cuddling? Equally enjoy both

52. What piece of technology can you not live without? Pen and paper, mic and recorder, keyboard an computer

53. What was the first concert you ever attended? Jason Mraz

54. What was your favorite subject in High School? Philosophy

55. What was your first job? Market researcher

56. What was your least favorite subject in High School? Social Studies

57. What is the furthest you’ve ever been from home? Other side of the globe [Though, I always feel at. Home wherever I go]

58. What is your biggest fear? Coming back

59. When did you suffer your first heartbreak? When I realised the lie of love

60. When was the first time you were on a plane? When I was 13

61. When was the last time you cried? Not too long ago, but I couldn't at say exactly

62. When was the last time you got in a fist fight? About a month ago, against my brother

63. Who has left the most impact on your life? My misguided teachers

64. Who is the best teacher you ever had? Life

65. Who is the first person you call when something exciting happens? Myself, asking the question is this reality or dream

66. Who is the first person you call when something horrible happens? Again, myself just to clarify the illusion

67. Who is your favorite musician? Tupac, still the toughest contender

68. Who is your role model? No-one in particular

69. Who was your first Boyfriend/Girlfriend? Can't remember, butbi know that it was an unrequited relationship

70. Who was your first Celebrity crush? Jeniffer Anderson

71. Who is your favorite actor? Keanu Revees

72. Who is your favorite actress? Allison Brie

73. Describe yourself in a single sentence? Too psychotic for those who think they're sane...

74. Have you ever dated two people at the same time? Can't say that I have

75. Have you ever suffered a fracture? Yes, several

76. Have you ever visited a country outside your continent? Yes, Lebanon

77. How many Boyfriends/Girlfriends have you had? 4, may be 5

78. How many relationships have you been in? Depends on what is meant by relationships

79. If you could give your younger self any advice what would it be? You're on the path, though is somewhat disorienting...

80. Last time you swam in a pool? Can't remember, but it's been too long

81. What is your most embarrassing moment? Rather not relive them all trying to determine which was the worst

82. On a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the highest and 1 being the lowest, rate your fashion sense? 4

83. On a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the highest and 1 being the lowest, rate your driving skills? 6

84. On a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the highest and 1 being the lowest, rate your cooking skills? 2

85. On a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the highest and 1 being the lowest, how good a kisser are you? 7

86. One thing you know now that you wish you had known as a kid? The battle never ends

87. The first app you check when you wake up in the morning? Whichever has a notification

88. What app do you use most? Voice Recorder and Video Camera

89. What are some of your bad habits? Smoking and talking more than necessary

90. What are your favorite things about yourself? Have none, just happy with all I've been given

91. What are your hobbies? Learning

92. What countries have you visited? Just Lebanon

93. What countries would you like to visit? Them all...

94. What do you consider unforgivable? Nothing

95. What do you do for a living? Garden

[mygeekcorner]

11 x 2

The dear @scribeoffate and @katyaton tagged me to do more questions so here we go!

scribeoffates' questions!

1. Are you a single fandom or multi-fandom person?

Def multi, there are too many things to obsess over, and how could I neglect some for just one? (Though I know my blog tends to become very one sided from time to time)

2. What fandom(s) are you in right now?

Harry Potter, Yuri on ice, Stranger things, Voltron, Game of thrones are probably the main ones right now

3. What book or series of books (or author) from your childhood has had the greatest impact on your life?

Harry Potter, easy. I am textbook Harry Potter-generation, the first book got translated to swedish when I was 10 and the last movie came out when I was 22. I honestly don’t know who I’d be if that hadn’ t been a constant part in my growing up.

4. How long have you been reading or writing fic?

I first discovered fics when I was like ... 12-13 somewhere? Then I would read for a while then take a break for a few years, read again, break again. This reading period started like 2(?) years ago.

5. What is your favorite fic trope?

Depends a lot on the fandom, like I never read Soulmates outside of YoI but am such a slut for them in that fandom, whereas Harry Potter have the best Enemies to Lovers?  But I guess I will always be a sucker for retellings of classic fairytales no matter the fandom so let’s go with that.

6. If you could be doing anything at all at this moment what would it be and why aren’t you doing it?

Drink tea. Because I sat down and am very lazy indeed. 

7. What animal were you in a past life?

Either a housecat or a dog. 

8. What is your favorite food?

All the food!

9. Are you missing anyone right now?

So very much

10. Is there a circumstance where you would find it okay to take a person’s life?

Self-defense, and euthanasia if it has been properly evaluated and talked through. 

11. What is something you appreciate?

Being tagged in things! Also puns and alliterations make me way too happy.

Katyatons questions

1. Do you deal with anger internally or let it be known to all and sundry?

I don’t really get angry, I get annoyed, and people can usually tell when I do. The few times I do get angry the person it is directed at most certainly knows, but I hope that I don’t take it out on anyone that crosses my path before I get there?

2. What was your least favorite subject in school? Your favorite?

Maths or geography. I think I skipped out on a lot of PE-classes too. Languages and drama and maybe home ec was the best parts of school, easily. 

3. If you could have one superpower, what would it be?

Flight/teleportation. But I always remember a show I watched growing up with a boy who had a magic clock that would stop time, it’s not a superpower as such since it was an item, but I always think how neat it would be to have. 

4. If you could push a button and get a million dollars, but one random person out of the 7 billion + people would die if you push it, would you do it?

Probably not. I’d want to know who it was going to end up being before pushing it. Then again I know that 2011-me who couldn’t even afford to buy milk for 2 months before my student loans came back in would have been sorely tempted, so I guess it’s all about the timing. 

5. If you found a genie’s lamp, what would your 3 wishes be?

*for a fractured friendship to mend *for Disney to go back to 2D and leave 3D to Pixar *for all the injured skaters to be ok to compete in the Olympics, because what the fuck is up with this season???

6. What is something about your physical appearance that you love?

I like my eyes. And my freckles when I get them.

7. What’s the worst injury you’ve had?

I fractured my right arm when I fell off a horse at 17

8. If you could live in the universe of any fandom, which one would you live in?

Yuri on Ice feels like a safer world than my other fandoms, also they seem to always have good battery and wifi.

9. If you could meet yourself from any alternate universe (without knowing anything about the society they come from) would you do it?

I’m sure I would hate that version of me just as much, but yes, I’d be too curious not to.

10. What is your personal DnD character alignment (ie. lawful good, chaotic neutral, etc.)?

Probably neutral or chaotic good, I’m boring like that. 

11. If you didn’t have the biological need for sleep, what would you do with the extra hours in your day?

I want to say that I would stretch and dance more, but we all know the truth, if I had more time I’d be spending it just like now: Read more fics, drink more tea

Oh god, now it’s my turn to come up with questions again. It’s too early for that, I’ve only been awake for an hour. ok fine, I’ll try.

My questions

1. What sort of baked goods do you prefer? Buns, pies, cakes, cookies, etc?

2. Who is a character that you wish you were like, and why?

3. Who/what is your favourite mythological character/creature? (Both?)

4. Favourite holiday and why? Yes, your birthday totally counts.

5. Favourite natural phenomenon? Have you ever seen it in person?

6. What languages do you speak? What languages do you wish you knew?

7. If you could change something about your personality what would you change?

8. What countries have you visited? Where would you like to go next?

9.  What’s the last thing you googled?

10. What were your dreams as a child, are they still the same?

11.  Who would you cast to play you in a movie?

I tag @ishxallxgood @d2diamond @paxohana @trytocare @scottishearthbender @flaxarrow and anyone else who feels like it. But I’m not tagging the ones I did last time because only Scribe answered and you’re all buttheads.

[ecotone99]

[HM] Fractured Fairytale: Pinoccchiolo

Disclaimer if that’s allowed: A bit weird

Pinocchiolo

Once upon a time, a kindly old bald man named kindly old Jepedo sat in his house. Day in and day out he sat and sat and sat all by himself, with no one, and no thing, to make his acquaintance or comfort him. One day kindly old Jepedo, lonely as he was, went to the market and purchased a block of wood to carve.

“I will take up this hobby of woodcarving,” he said. “Perhaps that can distract me from the hopeless, lonesome melancholy of everyday life, if not remedy it.”

Kindly old Jepedo took the block of wood back to his humble abode and down to the workbench in his basement. When kindly old Jepedo began to whittle on his wood, much to his surprise, it began to moan.

“Ooh… oh...” said the moaning wood.

“What is this?” kindly old Jepedo asked, drawing back in surprise. “Why, this is living wood!”

“Why, I’m not just living wood,” the wood replied. “All wood is living when it is part of a tree. I’m talking wood. I want to be a real man!”

“Why, that’s wonderful,” kindly old Jepedo marveled. “Then I shall call you Pinocchiolo, and I shall raise you as my boy.”

But Pinocchiolo did not want to be a boy, not in the least—“Why, I don’t want to be a boy, I want to be a man!”

And to that kindly old Jepedo could only say, “Why, manhood will come in time, Pinocchiolo... but there is much else to come before.”

So it came to pass that kindly old Jepedo carved Pinocchiolo into a cute little boy of a puppet, just the same as any other such doll, except for one presently small thing: Kindly old Jepedo made a slight counting or carving error, some type of error to be sure, which resulted in Pinocchiolo receiving, in addition to his two wooden legs, a third wooden log-leg. It should certainly be noted that Pinocchiolo also had a button nose and two coal eyes.

“Just look at me,” Pinocchiolo said, “I have a button nose, two coal eyes, two legs—” he gasped, full of shock and realization—“and a third wooden log-leg!”

“I apologize for my mistake,” said kindly old Jepedo. “I seem to have—”

“This is all so lovely!” Pinocchiolo said, prancing about. “I’m a man! Can you believe that?”

Kindly old Jepedo corrected him: “A boy to be sure, but you’re well on your way. You must be terribly hungry. Get some sleep.”

Kindly old Jepedo fetched a nearby cloth for a blanket and tucked Pinocchiolo in. “Goodnight, my child.”

“Goodnight, kindly old Jepedo,” Pinocchiolo replied.

Kindly old Jepedo gingerly watched Pinocchiolo as he slept, for kindly old Jepedo was kindly by nature as well as by name. He was dismayed to note that Pinocchiolo stirred.

In the morning, kindly old Jepedo woke Pinocchiolo and asked him how he slept.

“I slept quite well, kindly old Jepedo,” said Pinocchiolo, stretching and rubbing his sap-stickied eyes. As he rose, the cloth-blanket fell away from his wooden shoulders, wooden head, wooden knees, and came to rest at his wooden toes—wooden knobs, rather, as kindly old Jepedo wasn’t yet such a skilled woodcarver as to make sufficiently defined individual wooden toes.

Suddenly Pinocchiolo began to change. His exposed third wooden log-leg grew and grew and grew, out and out and out still more. It grew out three whole inches, in fact! Kindly old Jepedo noticed this, and he was filled with warmth.

“Pinocchiolo, you need not fib to me,” kindly old Jepedo said.

“Why do you think I am fibbing?” asked Pinocchiolo. “Perhaps I am telling the truth.”

But kindly old Jepedo would not be fooled. “Pinocchiolo, I know that you are fibbing because fibs create nervousness. Therefore, when you lie, your nose—I mean, your third wooden log-leg—grows out.”

“Oh ok,” said Pinocchiolo.

“And now I will have to beat it back down to size.”

And in this way it was settled.

It came to pass that one day Pinocchiolo had a fantastic idea.

“I’d like to go to school,” he said to kindly old Jepedo, “to learn to become a real man, like you.”

But kindly old Jepedo hadn’t the money for that—not even for the first schoolbook. “Pinocchiolo,” kindly old Jepedo replied, “I hadn’t the money for that—not even for the first schoolbook.”

Pinocchiolo looked downcast.

“I understand, kindly old Jepedo. I understand that I cannot go to school.”

But even as Pinocchiolo uttered these words, his third wooden log-leg grew and grew and grew, out and out and out still more. It grew out three whole inches, in fact! Kindly old Jepedo noticed this and was filled with warmth. Kindly old Jepedo suddenly rose.

“Pinocchiolo, you need not fib to me,” he said. “We will collect the money for you to receive an education and learn how to become a man.”

“Oh thank you, thank you, kindly old Jepedo!” exclaimed Pinocchiolo. “But first I will have to beat those three inches back down to size.”

And in this way it was settled.

Once that task was finished, kindly old Jepedo put his clothes on, picked Pinocchiolo up, and headed for the circus. He had an idea….

Puppet shows aren’t ordinarily the life of the party, but “Kindly Old Jepedo’s Stringless Wonder” didn’t look to be an ordinarily puppet show—a stringless puppet would surely be a treat! Advertisements for the big show were displayed all over town, and throughout all the mountains and valleys nearby.

When the day rolled around, the circus was crowded with people. Pinocchiolo was nervous, but knew that kindly old Jepedo would provide a guiding hand. Not really though, because Pinocchiolo was stringless. In any case, “Kindly Old Jepedo’s Stringless Wonder” was a spectacular success.

The following day, kindly old Jepedo gave Pinocchiolo the good news: “We have collected the money for you to receive an education and learn how to become a man.”

“Thank you, kindly old Jepedo!” Pinocchiolo exclaimed. “Now I can learn to be just like you.” Pinocchiolo embraced kindly old Jepedo. “I love you,” he said, and kindly old Jepedo of course replied, in merry and gay tune: “Pinocchiolo, I dearly love you too.”

Pinocchiolo was mortified beyond belief.

“No, kindly old Jepedo, you don’t dearly love me!” he cried out, breaking away from Jepedo’s warm embrace.

“Why yes I do,” kindly old Jepedo said, utterly confused as to how Pinocchiolo could draw such a conclusion, for he did in fact dearly love Pinocchiolo. “And look,” kindly old Jepedo noticed, filled with warmth, “Your third wooden log-leg grows now.”

Pinocchiolo looked down, and his third wooden log-leg was indeed growing and growing and growing, out and out and out still more. It grew out three whole inches, in fact, right under Pinocchiolo’s own button nose. From such a perspective, Pinocchiolo noticed for the first time, his nose almost seemed to have sprouted a wooden human penis.

“I’m afraid I will have to beat that back down to size,” said kindly old Jepedo.

“Why, this is a paradox!” exclaimed Pinocchiolo, yet at this utterance his third wooden log-leg grew and grew and grew, out and out and out and out still more. It was now seven inches long, in fact.

“That will have to be beaten down seven thirds as much now,” noted kindly old Jepedo as he eyed Pinocchiolo’s new growth. “But do not distress. This is no ‘paradox’.”

What kindly old Jepedo said only seemed to cause Pinocchiolo even more distress, for as Pinocchiolo’s coal eyes, now fixated someplace around kindly old Jepedo’s pelvic area, dilated in accordance with their subject, he shouted in utter dismay: “This cannot possibly be!”

Again Pinocchiolo’s third wooden log-leg grew and grew and grew, out and out and out and out and out and out still more. It was now thirteen inches long, in fact.

“You know what the fairy tales say,” replied kindly old Jepedo. “Anything is possible.”

For some primal reason, this climaxed poor little Pinocchiolo’s despair.

Pinocchiolo dashed out of the house on his three wooden log-legs, although mainly the third as it was so much longer than the other two. In fact Pinocchiolo was practically on a pogo stick, bouncing up and down, up and down, teetering slightly side to side and back and forth as he struggled oh-so-desperately to maintain his balance. Pinocchiolo pogoed his way out of Jepedo’s sight, out of town, over mountains and valleys and the horizon itself. He pogoed and pogoed and pogoed for three days straight straight before pausing for a rest. No sooner had he ceased his pogoing than Mrs. Woodpecker the woodpecker came fluttering down to him.

“Pinocchiolo!” chirped Mrs. Woodpecker. “Where is a lad like you pogoing, all on your lonesome?”

“I’m pogoing nowhere,” Pinocchiolo sobbed. “I only wanted to become a man, and kindly old Jepedo said he could teach me how, but this third wooden log-leg of mine just won’t stop growing—it seems to be a paradox!”

“Oh my,” replied Mrs. Woodpecker. “I believe I’ve heard of this once before. Although it was a nose—a nose that grew with each untruth. Does that, Pinocchiolo, ring a bell?”

“Absolutely,” said Pinocchiolo, “and much more than that!” He quickly added, “In a strictly metaphorical sense.”

“I see,” chirped Mrs. Woodpecker. She contemplatively licked her beak. “Perhaps I could be of some assistance.”

Pinocchiolo sprang into the air. He nearly toppled over upon coming back down to the ground. “Oh please do help me!” he exclaimed. “You must! Anything to be rid of this curse.”

At this Mrs. Woodpecker wukked. “Anything?” She shifted her gaze to Pinocchiolo’s third wooden log-leg, narrowed her eyes, and chirped five fateful words: “Let us see about that.”

As Pinocchiolo realized what he had said, his own black eyes widened. They followed the woodpecker’s gaze, looked down in tense trepidation.

Well past the point of “wooden human penis” that log-leg now seemed to be, unless one such phalange could ever be thirteen inches long and double as a pogo-stick. But still they watched, still they waited for the growth, the growth, the growth, out and out and out still more.

Under the collective gaze of Mrs. Woodpecker and himself, Pinocchiolo did begin to grow, grow, grow… he began to grow very nervous, truthfully, about his third wooden log-leg.

How long could it grow? How far would it go? Three inches more? Two?

Surely at least one. Surely a nub, at least, was due.

They held their gaze a moment more, watching the Pole of Truth, woodpecker and puppet, but there was nothing.

“Anything…” Mrs. Woodpecker cukked. “‘You must help—anything to be rid of this curse.’”

“I…” Pinocchiolo trailed off. The growth, the growth, the growth. “Surely the growth must come!” he exclaimed. “It comes with every fib.”

“Stroke it,” chirped Mrs. Woodpecker. “Perchance it just needs some coaxing, long as it already is.”

So Pinocchiolo reached out, reached down, reached out farther still with one trembling wooden hand. It only just reached the tip of that third wooden log-leg.

“Stroke it?” he asked. “You’re certain?”

“Indeed.”

So Pinocchiolo stroked. With great relief, the growth finally came: A single drip of sticky, sappy, golden dew of destiny leaked out.

But that third wooden log-leg grew no more.

“Alrighty then,” the aptly named Mrs. Woodpecker eagerly chirped. “Anything it is. I’ll help if I must.”

Out of sight, out of town, over mountains and valleys and the horizon itself, Pinocchiolo screamed his first—and last—adolescent scream.

So it was that Mrs. Woodpecker the woodpecker chipped all thirteen inches of Pinocchiolo’s third wooden log-leg down into tiny little shavings. She lived happily ever after, as did kindly old Jepedo, who, despite losing Pinocchiolo and his passion for carving wooden puppets, soon took up a slightly different hobby of making sock puppets and putting on nice shows with them for all the little boys and girls.

The End

submitted by /u/Gcwrite [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2G8dwxd

[ecotone99]

[HM] Fractured Fairytale: Pinocchiolo

Disclaimer if that’s allowed: A bit weird

Pinocchiolo

Once upon a time, a kindly old bald man named kindly old Jepedo sat in his house. Day in and day out he sat and sat and sat all by himself, with no one, and no thing, to make his acquaintance or comfort him. One day kindly old Jepedo, lonely as he was, went to the market and purchased a block of wood to carve.

“I will take up this hobby of woodcarving,” he said. “Perhaps that can distract me from the hopeless, lonesome melancholy of everyday life, if not remedy it.”

Kindly old Jepedo took the block of wood back to his humble abode and down to the workbench in his basement. When kindly old Jepedo began to whittle on his wood, much to his surprise, it began to moan.

“Ooh… oh...” said the moaning wood.

“What is this?” kindly old Jepedo asked, drawing back in surprise. “Why, this is living wood!”

“Why, I’m not just living wood,” the wood replied. “All wood is living when it is part of a tree. I’m talking wood. I want to be a real man!”

“Why, that’s wonderful,” kindly old Jepedo marveled. “Then I shall call you Pinocchiolo, and I shall raise you as my boy.”

But Pinocchiolo did not want to be a boy, not in the least—“Why, I don’t want to be a boy, I want to be a man!”

And to that kindly old Jepedo could only say, “Why, manhood will come in time, Pinocchiolo... but there is much else to come before.”

So it came to pass that kindly old Jepedo carved Pinocchiolo into a cute little boy of a puppet, just the same as any other such doll, except for one presently small thing: Kindly old Jepedo made a slight counting or carving error, some type of error to be sure, which resulted in Pinocchiolo receiving, in addition to his two wooden legs, a third wooden log-leg. It should certainly be noted that Pinocchiolo also had a button nose and two coal eyes.

“Just look at me,” Pinocchiolo said, “I have a button nose, two coal eyes, two legs—” he gasped, full of shock and realization—“and a third wooden log-leg!”

“I apologize for my mistake,” said kindly old Jepedo. “I seem to have—”

“This is all so lovely!” Pinocchiolo said, prancing about. “I’m a man! Can you believe that?”

Kindly old Jepedo corrected him: “A boy to be sure, but you’re well on your way. You must be terribly hungry. Get some sleep.”

Kindly old Jepedo fetched a nearby cloth for a blanket and tucked Pinocchiolo in. “Goodnight, my child.”

“Goodnight, kindly old Jepedo,” Pinocchiolo replied.

Kindly old Jepedo gingerly watched Pinocchiolo as he slept, for kindly old Jepedo was kindly by nature as well as by name. He was dismayed to note that Pinocchiolo stirred.

In the morning, kindly old Jepedo woke Pinocchiolo and asked him how he slept.

“I slept quite well, kindly old Jepedo,” said Pinocchiolo, stretching and rubbing his sap-stickied eyes. As he rose, the cloth-blanket fell away from his wooden shoulders, wooden head, wooden knees, and came to rest at his wooden toes—wooden knobs, rather, as kindly old Jepedo wasn’t yet such a skilled woodcarver as to make sufficiently defined individual wooden toes.

Suddenly Pinocchiolo began to change. His exposed third wooden log-leg grew and grew and grew, out and out and out still more. It grew out three whole inches, in fact! Kindly old Jepedo noticed this, and he was filled with warmth.

“Pinocchiolo, you need not fib to me,” kindly old Jepedo said.

“Why do you think I am fibbing?” asked Pinocchiolo. “Perhaps I am telling the truth.”

But kindly old Jepedo would not be fooled. “Pinocchiolo, I know that you are fibbing because fibs create nervousness. Therefore, when you lie, your nose—I mean, your third wooden log-leg—grows out.”

“Oh ok,” said Pinocchiolo.

“And now I will have to beat it back down to size.”

And in this way it was settled.

It came to pass that one day Pinocchiolo had a fantastic idea.

“I’d like to go to school,” he said to kindly old Jepedo, “to learn to become a real man, like you.”

But kindly old Jepedo hadn’t the money for that—not even for the first schoolbook. “Pinocchiolo,” kindly old Jepedo replied, “I hadn’t the money for that—not even for the first schoolbook.”

Pinocchiolo looked downcast.

“I understand, kindly old Jepedo. I understand that I cannot go to school.”

But even as Pinocchiolo uttered these words, his third wooden log-leg grew and grew and grew, out and out and out still more. It grew out three whole inches, in fact! Kindly old Jepedo noticed this and was filled with warmth. Kindly old Jepedo suddenly rose.

“Pinocchiolo, you need not fib to me,” he said. “We will collect the money for you to receive an education and learn how to become a man.”

“Oh thank you, thank you, kindly old Jepedo!” exclaimed Pinocchiolo. “But first I will have to beat those three inches back down to size.”

And in this way it was settled.

Once that task was finished, kindly old Jepedo put his clothes on, picked Pinocchiolo up, and headed for the circus. He had an idea….

Puppet shows aren’t ordinarily the life of the party, but “Kindly Old Jepedo’s Stringless Wonder” didn’t look to be an ordinarily puppet show—a stringless puppet would surely be a treat! Advertisements for the big show were displayed all over town, and throughout all the mountains and valleys nearby.

When the day rolled around, the circus was crowded with people. Pinocchiolo was nervous, but knew that kindly old Jepedo would provide a guiding hand. Not really though, because Pinocchiolo was stringless. In any case, “Kindly Old Jepedo’s Stringless Wonder” was a spectacular success.

The following day, kindly old Jepedo gave Pinocchiolo the good news: “We have collected the money for you to receive an education and learn how to become a man.”

“Thank you, kindly old Jepedo!” Pinocchiolo exclaimed. “Now I can learn to be just like you.” Pinocchiolo embraced kindly old Jepedo. “I love you,” he said, and kindly old Jepedo of course replied, in merry and gay tune: “Pinocchiolo, I dearly love you too.”

Pinocchiolo was mortified beyond belief.

“No, kindly old Jepedo, you don’t dearly love me!” he cried out, breaking away from Jepedo’s warm embrace.

“Why yes I do,” kindly old Jepedo said, utterly confused as to how Pinocchiolo could draw such a conclusion, for he did in fact dearly love Pinocchiolo. “And look,” kindly old Jepedo noticed, filled with warmth, “Your third wooden log-leg grows now.”

Pinocchiolo looked down, and his third wooden log-leg was indeed growing and growing and growing, out and out and out still more. It grew out three whole inches, in fact, right under Pinocchiolo’s own button nose. From such a perspective, Pinocchiolo noticed for the first time, his nose almost seemed to have sprouted a wooden human penis.

“I’m afraid I will have to beat that back down to size,” said kindly old Jepedo.

“Why, this is a paradox!” exclaimed Pinocchiolo, yet at this utterance his third wooden log-leg grew and grew and grew, out and out and out and out still more. It was now seven inches long, in fact.

“That will have to be beaten down seven thirds as much now,” noted kindly old Jepedo as he eyed Pinocchiolo’s new growth. “But do not distress. This is no ‘paradox’.”

What kindly old Jepedo said only seemed to cause Pinocchiolo even more distress, for as Pinocchiolo’s coal eyes, now fixated someplace around kindly old Jepedo’s pelvic area, dilated in accordance with their subject, he shouted in utter dismay: “This cannot possibly be!”

Again Pinocchiolo’s third wooden log-leg grew and grew and grew, out and out and out and out and out and out still more. It was now thirteen inches long, in fact.

“You know what the fairy tales say,” replied kindly old Jepedo. “Anything is possible.”

For some primal reason, this climaxed poor little Pinocchiolo’s despair.

Pinocchiolo dashed out of the house on his three wooden log-legs, although mainly the third as it was so much longer than the other two. In fact Pinocchiolo was practically on a pogo stick, bouncing up and down, up and down, teetering slightly side to side and back and forth as he struggled oh-so-desperately to maintain his balance. Pinocchiolo pogoed his way out of Jepedo’s sight, out of town, over mountains and valleys and the horizon itself. He pogoed and pogoed and pogoed for three days straight straight before pausing for a rest. No sooner had he ceased his pogoing than Mrs. Woodpecker the woodpecker came fluttering down to him.

“Pinocchiolo!” chirped Mrs. Woodpecker. “Where is a lad like you pogoing, all on your lonesome?”

“I’m pogoing nowhere,” Pinocchiolo sobbed. “I only wanted to become a man, and kindly old Jepedo said he could teach me how, but this third wooden log-leg of mine just won’t stop growing—it seems to be a paradox!”

“Oh my,” replied Mrs. Woodpecker. “I believe I’ve heard of this once before. Although it was a nose—a nose that grew with each untruth. Does that, Pinocchiolo, ring a bell?”

“Absolutely,” said Pinocchiolo, “and much more than that!” He quickly added, “In a strictly metaphorical sense.”

“I see,” chirped Mrs. Woodpecker. She contemplatively licked her beak. “Perhaps I could be of some assistance.”

Pinocchiolo sprang into the air. He nearly toppled over upon coming back down to the ground. “Oh please do help me!” he exclaimed. “You must! Anything to be rid of this curse.”

At this Mrs. Woodpecker wukked. “Anything?” She shifted her gaze to Pinocchiolo’s third wooden log-leg, narrowed her eyes, and chirped five fateful words: “Let us see about that.”

As Pinocchiolo realized what he had said, his own black eyes widened. They followed the woodpecker’s gaze, looked down in tense trepidation.

Well past the point of “wooden human penis” that log-leg now seemed to be, unless one such phalange could ever be thirteen inches long and double as a pogo-stick. But still they watched, still they waited for the growth, the growth, the growth, out and out and out still more.

Under the collective gaze of Mrs. Woodpecker and himself, Pinocchiolo did begin to grow, grow, grow… he began to grow very nervous, truthfully, about his third wooden log-leg.

How long could it grow? How far would it go? Three inches more? Two?

Surely at least one. Surely a nub, at least, was due.

They held their gaze a moment more, watching the Pole of Truth, woodpecker and puppet, but there was nothing.

“Anything…” Mrs. Woodpecker cukked. “‘You must help—anything to be rid of this curse.’”

“I…” Pinocchiolo trailed off. The growth, the growth, the growth. “Surely the growth must come!” he exclaimed. “It comes with every fib.”

“Stroke it,” chirped Mrs. Woodpecker. “Perchance it just needs some coaxing, long as it already is.”

So Pinocchiolo reached out, reached down, reached out farther still with one trembling wooden hand. It only just reached the tip of that third wooden log-leg.

“Stroke it?” he asked. “You’re certain?”

“Indeed.”

So Pinocchiolo stroked. With great relief, the growth finally came: A single drip of sticky, sappy, golden dew of destiny leaked out.

But that third wooden log-leg grew no more.

“Alrighty then,” the aptly named Mrs. Woodpecker eagerly chirped. “Anything it is. I’ll help if I must.”

Out of sight, out of town, over mountains and valleys and the horizon itself, Pinocchiolo screamed his first—and last—adolescent scream.

So it was that Mrs. Woodpecker the woodpecker chipped all thirteen inches of Pinocchiolo’s third wooden log-leg down into tiny little shavings. She lived happily ever after, as did kindly old Jepedo, who, despite losing Pinocchiolo and his passion for carving wooden puppets, soon took up a slightly different hobby of making sock puppets and putting on nice shows with them for all the little boys and girls.

The End

submitted by /u/Gcwrite [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/30HgphD