#my huge wife whom i love dearly

[shatterdome-underscore]

*slides Studio Orange $15*

Make Milly taller than Vash and Wolfwood in TriStamp season 2

[jollyinha]

I have brought... My YuuriVoice listeners.

...On The Sims, because I can't draw for shit. I spent pretty much the whole day redesigning (except Rookie, who already got a glow up bc he's my favorite child) and dressing them up like Barbie dolls lol

DISCLAIMER: I'm being a lil' poser because I have never watched Bittersweet nor the Faust audios (and yet I still have Sugarboo and Star done, go figure), and am catching up on Lost and Found as I type this. ANYWAY HERE ARE MY BABIES, MORE INFO ON THEM UNDER THE CUT YIPPEEEEEEEE

FÉLIX/ROOKIE:

- As previously mentioned, he's my favorite child, sorry not sorry, I adore this boy so much

- Dumb of ass and home of sexual (out of the closet to everyone except his mom, oof), pulled a millionaire CEO with his ADHD swag. Also canonically a cheeky horny bastard

- An artist (draws/paints and crafts all sorts of stuff) at heart, but had to pursue a more lucrative career in order to support his family. So, Law school it is. Viva le capitalism

- Is an ENFP and his birthday is on February 16th

- His mother is Brazilian and his dad was Colombian. They have been living in the USA since Félix was a young child. He also has a little sister (not so little, she's in college by the time Shattered begins) whom he loves very much and basically raised her, to the point where she sees him as his dad more than their actual dad (whom passed away when she was a toddler)

- Has an excellent relationship with his uncle (and his wife), aunt and cousins. Him and Joy/Sunflower don't meet that often bc she lives a bit far away, but when they do, they share the same braincell

- Appears to be suave and chill when he's at work, but he's actually a SOFTIE. The biggest golden retriever... Well, not literally the biggest. He's 5'7ft/1m69cm. Compared to Auron, he's pocket-sized. But anyway-

- He loves Trish. They bully Auron together. Incredible dynamic

- Has pyrophobia bc ✨ PAST TRAUMA ✨. Began cooking as a hobby to try to work through it

- Likes: Arts, cooking, biking, peacocks, sun imageries (long story), sea monsters and plaid jackets

- Félix has SO MUCH LORE and tidbits (like his tattoos!) about him, I would need an entire separate post to tell it all. And I might do it bc I need that sweet infodump dopamine...

JOYCE "JOY"/SUNFLOWER

- Actually my first YV OC! I met the channel through the infamous Finn compilation

- Bisexual! Finn is her first serious boyfriend, though, up until she met him, she only had girlfriends... And she had the worst luck with all of them. Oof

- Colombian, just like Félix

- Huge animal lover, especially the aquatic critters and reptiles. Has a Bull Terrier named Cow (yes, that's her name.) that has her entire heart. Currently trying to get a job in the veterinarian field! Just... Don't put bugs near her. Please

- Is an ESFP and her birthday is on July 27th... The day the Finn compilation premiered

- Her mother had her pretty young. She doesn't know who her father is, and her mom refuses to talk about it... But tbh, Joy doesn't care that much. She loves her mama, and that's all that matters

- (also her mother loves Finn dearly. everytime they meet, he leaves with a piece of cake or some other home made food bc she loves to spoil her "son-in-law" lmao)

- Surfs on her spare time! Queen shit! Also plays a bit of soccer

- Had pretty severe acne as a teen and still has its marks

- Golden retriever energy runs in the Torres family, because she has it too

- Likes: Snakes, whales, surfing, soccer (as stressful as it is to watch it lol), jogging, her dog Cow, hoodies, fun scrunchies

CARINA/SUGARBOO

- Like I previously stated, I haven't watched Bittersweet, so, I may not have much to say about Sugarboo except for the (few) misc audios from Al and Seth I have heard... BUT GODDAMNIT SHE'S SO BEAUTIFUL OH GOD

- Straight, but poly

- Japanese, but was born and raised in the USA and, sadly, doesn't has much connection to her roots... Mostly bc she's not super close to her family :(

- (Canonically) Likes to bake! Also cooking, but still has a preference for pastries. Works in a bakery... Which isn't a very healthy workplace, but, oh well

- Is an ESFJ, and her birthday is on January 20th (it's coming!!!!! happy early birthday, queen!!!!!)

- Pulled TWO bitches by having ADHD

- Has A SHIT LOAD of tattoos because she's best friends with a tattoo artist... Who may or may not be Star 👀

- Used to have long hair when she met Alphonse

- She may be Al's impulse control, but Seth is her impulse control 💀

- Calls Alphonse "bug". Earlier on their relationship it was ironically ("so you and me together can be bugaboo!"), but the pet name has stuck

- But in reality, she does have a passion for bugs! Especially butterflies and moths ("NOT Mothman, Seth. Normal, regular moths.")

- Also love cats

- She bullies Seth for believing in cryptids... But believes in aliens

- Again, I haven't watched Bittersweet, so feel free to discard this part if it's contradicting canon events, but... She kind of likes Charlie. She thinks he's cute, even with all the shit that happened

- Likes: Baking, collecting jewelry like some kind of dragon, bugs, cats, tattoos, aliens

ASHER/CASPER

- The coolest mf to ever walk on this earth. I don't make the rules, it's the truth

- FtM trans of gender, also home of sexual

- Just american. F

- Yes, his last name is a Life Is Strange reference, sue me

- I... I have no idea what he works with? Because gotta wait for more Charlie videos to find out wtf canon!Casper is up to he's such a mysterious guy,,,,,

- (I really hope that the "Casper works for Auron" theory is true tho, the Auron/Félix & Charlie/Asher shenanigans would be so funny to imagine)

- What I do know is that he's kind of a gym bro, except if said bro was fruity

- Seriously though, he's a sporty guy. Likes to go jogging, (he and Joy/Sunflower would be good workout buddies!), climbing, hiking, good ol' fashioned working out and, of course, skating! But after Charlie left, he got into roller skating as well, and he's pretty damn good at it

- He's an ISFP, and his birthday is on April 22nd (Earth Day, get it, bc his favorite color is green,,,,,,)

- Disowned by his parents, but was taken in by his uncle and aunt, whom really support him <3

- Has a tooth gap! Cute shit

- Braided his hair as a kid, still does it nowadays. Certain things never change

- He WANTS to get SO MANY TATTOOS AND PIERCINGS... But he has a pretty bad case of trypanophobia (his ears are pierced bc his parents had him pierce it as a baby). Having his top surgery was challenging enough! He just wanted to get some tattoos... :(

- Always carries an extra hair tie on his arm, like a bracelet. Mostly for himself, but sometimes he gives it to Charlie too

- Has dyslexia! Fucking hated school bc of that

- Likes: Skating, roller skating, climbing, collecting sick ass knives, bad horror movies, hair styling (he wanted to be a hairstylist as a kid even!)

- I don't have thaaaaat much to say about him as of right now since I'm still finishing Lost and Found, but he's growing a lot on me, I love him

PAIGE/ANGEL

- URGH I LOVE HER SO MUCH AAAAAAAAAA ULTIMATE SASS AND NIHILISM

- Their relationship with gender is... Confusing. Doesn't like any labels, really. Just go with she/them and you'll be fine. Considers themselves to be pansexual, though

- British ("sadly, stupid ass country"), still has a strong accent even if they have been living in the USA for quite a while

- ...They like tea though

- She works on the IT department of a big company. Boring office job. But she doesn't mind it that much. Everyone is nice enough and it pays the bills. That's more than enough for her

- But besides programming and gaming, her big passion in life is... Sewing! 80% of the plushies in her collection are handmade, including Sir Gengar himself

- Also a huge cinephile

- Is an INTP, and their birthday is on September 4th (it may or may not be a reference to Gengar's pokedex number)

- Pulled a LITERAL DEMON FROM HELL with her autism swag

- Has chronic pain on her left knee due to a past accident

- Obviously, huge Pokémon fan

- Ironically enough, doesn't really like cooking, which explains why their house didn't had shit when it comes to ingredients lol At least now they have a demon boy to cook for them

- Awful relationship with her family. All of it. Ran away for the USA to escape from them

- Doesn't have many friends irl, most of them are virtual friends

- Considers themselves to be "plain and boring". Normally they don't give a damn about it, but got kind of insecure when they and Lucien got officially together... But in their most confident days, they think it's hilarious how the most normal-looking human ever managed to pull a demon

- Deep, deep down, Paige is a sweet and caring person. Heck, that's why her soul was so enticing. She just has trouble demonstrating it (Autistic Struggle™)

- Likes four leaf clovers. No idea why. She just does

- ...I feel like she would watch Faust's streams ironically. She thinks the cat boy is hilarious

- Likes: Cinema, games, programming, plushies making, clovers, tea

ENID/STAR

- ...I haven't watched a single Faust audio in my life, but Enid just... Popped up in my head. Their design came to me and they were yelling at me to bring them to existence. So here they are?????? I really gotta hear the twink's audios any of these days...

- I don't even know much about them tbh lol But here's what I do have:

- Non-binary (AFAB), bisexual

- A tattoo artist! They're Sugarboo's friend that I mentioned all the way up there

- Likes to write and read in their spare time (IMAGINE THEM AND AURON WRITING FANFICTION ABOUT THEIR S/Os! Beautiful)

- Likes to watch sports (don't look like the type, do they?)

- Likes questionable shirts with 80s/90s aesthetics

- I can see them being friends with Paige/Angel, ngl :D

- ...That's all about Enid for now, maybe I'll develop them if I get around to hear more of Faust eventually lol

Idk if there's someone reading all of this, but if there is, tysm for reading this HUGE infodump 🥺 If you have any YV OCs, I would LOVE to hear about them too! My DMs are open!

[virgil-is-a-cutie]

Apple salt: Apple & Diana decide to trick Raven into signing the book by staging that Apple has actually gone poof & that the only way to bring her back is to sign. After Raven signs & Apple “reappears”, Raven discovers that she was tricked. She lashes out at the two for tricking her into signing & now she’ll have the same destiny as her mom.

This could go with the ask that has Apple never declared fairest and all that tbh I tried my best

Raven felt her stomach tighten and she felt dizzy as she realized her older half sister and half niece have tricked her into writing on the Storybook.

She was to follow her mother's destiny, the legacy of her ancestors.

"You will regret this Apple," she weakly hissed at the pair who just gave her a small smug smile.

2 years after graduation Apple watches secretly horrified as her father loudly announces that he and Raven, his dearly departed wife's half sister, were to marry. Apple was shocked because her mother was barely in the ground for less than a week and she looks around to look around the White Court to see if any of the members of the royal court were worried.

But they all had smiles.

"This is what you wanted was it not your highness?" the blonde jumps to glance at a duchess next to her, if she was correct the duchess was one of her mother's childhood friend whom she gave a title to because they had been such great friends when younger.

"Y...yes but-"

"Be glad that your father, now The Good King has decided to announce an engagement instead of a wedding. Surely you know the story of the 10th retelling of this story."

The Good King, Joffrey the II, of the 10th retelling of the tale had made a messy divorce with his Queen to marry the Evil Queen of that generation. Having declared that the marriage was invalid since he was the spare of the Charming family and his older brother was meant to marry that generation's Snow White.

And then announced a wedding for him and the Evil Queen the next day.

It had left a stain in the next few generations in both the White line and Charming.

Especially since that Snow White was declared a bastard and was mistreated by that Evil Queen for almost a decade and no prince saved that Snow White till 6 years after she was poisoned and even by then she had had a difficult time taking her right to the White throne after her father and his wife had moved to the Queen Castle in the little kingdom each Queen descendant ruled over after their tale ended.

They had even already had a teen daughter once that Snow White finally could take the throne thanks to the will her mother left before she passed while her daughter was still poisoned.

But Apple was confused, surely her father had to court Raven, it was much too early for an engagement to happen.

They were barely 20 years old and Raven was to marry Apple's recently widowed father?

She didn't know how to feel really.

But she knew the Snow White tale was so close starting.

A month later she witnessed the huge wedding and coronation that was such a huge deal, she had butterflies in her stomach knowing what comes next.

She was 21 when her stepmother gave birth to fraternal twins, a girl and a boy and was given the role to be a lady in waiting for them before she was eventually forced to do heavy chores around the castle.

Years passed and she still wasn't poisoned and she was getting worried because surely she should be poisoned by now. She was becoming worried because her half siblings were about to hit the double digits and she was still not poisoned.

Her body was now sore and tired from all the chores she had been long ago forced to do.

She was desperate.

The twins were now 13 years old and she was still not poisoned and she could see that her father deeply loved Raven, but the ravenette ignored him and did her hardest to rule the White kingdom the best way she could.

She was 34 years old once she was finally poisoned and honestly she was internally embarrassed because she was much too old to be poisoned.

But it was food poisoning that would go down into the Storybook.

And even then she had heard herself from the mirror that Raven was still the most fairest, but before she was poisoned, she had finally heard the mirror say that Princess Narcissa was the most fairest of the land.

The book showed that too and so everyone knew she didn't get the happy ever after she wanted because she was barely 35 years old when she was finally able to take her throne and marry her prince Charming who was 10 years her junior.

She then heard the whispers that Queen Raven had used doctors to get pregnant with the twins, sure the marriage with her and the king was consumated, but she had been able to convince him to have them use doctors to get her pregnant since he was much too old.

She was barely 41 years old when she gave birth to her daughter and by then her looks weren't all there anymore, her 31 year old husband was starting to become infatuated with the 20 year old Princess Narcissa, the Evil Queen to her daughter's Snow White.

Her body ached from the labor she had been forced to endure and she was embarrassed to witness her husband secretly court her old friend's successor. She knew her time was coming soon even if her daughter was barely a year old.

Raven really did promise revenge.

Queen Raven "Evil" King-Queen was still beautiful at 41 years old, still looking as if she were in her late 20s, her daughter catching the eye of the husband of the Snow White that was pathetic in the Snow White tale of her mother's generation.

She was never declared fairest after 2 decades of their tale beginning.

Raven truly did get the last laugh.

[adarkrainbow]

Catherine Bernard’s other fairytale: The Rosebush Prince

When undergoing my little study of Riquet with the tuft, I made a post about the literary fairytale that preceeded Perrault’s version - and in fact, the fairytale to which Perrault was answering with his own Riquet. It was Catherine Bernard’s own “Riquet with the tuft”. And Catherine Bernard was a prominent woman of letters in these times, who notably had an influence over Perrault fairytales... Though she actually barely published any fairytales at all. She only published two of them to my knowledge, both included inside her novel “Inès de Cordoue” (1696) - and since I have looked at one of the two, Riquet with the tuft, here, I thought, why not finish the package deal and take a look at the other fairytale of Catherine Bernard: Le Prince Rosier, The Rosebush Prince. 

Here is the story:

Once upon a time, there was a queen who ruled over a kingdom you cannot find on any maps. She was the widow of a king she dearly loved, but hopefully her pain was balanced by their only daughter, named Florinde. However one day, as all the queen and all her handmaidens were in the bedroom of the little princess, a little ivory chariot arrived, dragged by six butterflies of a thousand colors, and on it there was a woman just as small as the chariots and the butterflies. People “suspected” that she was a fairy, and before disappearing she left them with a written note saying: “Florinde is born with a great beauty, but her misfortune will be extreme, if she ever loves one day the lover she will not see.”

This surprised and confused everyone, as you can expect, and the queen understanding that she had to face the “whims of love and fate united”, decided to protect her daughter the best she could - to avoid the prophecy, long before Florinde was “in age to love”, she made her know the face and identity of all the neighboring princes she could ever marry one day. All... except one, who was actually hidden to the world. This prince was the son of a widow king, who had dreadfully suffered when his wife was alive because she made him terribly jealous. So, to avoid such a rocky marriage again, when he took a second wife he took one that he was sure would never make him jealous in any ways... But unfortunately for him he found himself in the position situation, as SHE was the massively jealous one. After knowing both extremes of the passion that was love, the king decided that marriage was an awful thing, and sought to prevent his son from ever knowing such a horror -he had his son the prince raised in a castle far away from the world and from any women. The prince had there all the entertainments he needed, and he was taught in all the sciences - as long as they didn’t brought him to the topic of women or love ; but still the portrait of Florinde reached him one day. “By fairy means” the narrative precises, the portrait ended up one day “under his feet” - as in he literaly was walking around when he found the portrait lying on the road before him. Looking at it, the prince felt love for the first time, which was a very unusual thing for him as he was used in physical sports and intellectual thinking, and not to anything closely resembling feelings/attraction. 

So the prince decides to find to whom belongs this portrait, and suddenly feels that this isolated palace where he had been always happy is now a prison. He leaves secretely without informing anyone, but as soon as he starts his journey the fairy of the opening scene appears and warns him that if he continues, he will suffers misfortunes and a bad fate from which people tried to shield him from.

We cut back to Florinde, whose mother organized a huge tournament with all the princes of the kingdoms nearby, in hope she will pick one of them as her husband, but Florinde doesn’t choose any. On one side she doesn’t feel love for any of them, though she admires their beauty and talent ; on the other side she notices that they all have a big crush on her, and she fears of making “many people miserable by making one happy”. The queen/mother then had the princes return to their kingdoms, and started to worry - her daughter did not love any of the princes she had seen... meaning the prophecy could still be realized. 

Florinde, tired with the court, is allowed to go rest on her own in a countryside house, and as she was walking around one day, in the garden, she noticed a rosebush that was greener and more flowery than others - and its branches shivered and moves as she approached, as if to bow to her. The princess was amazed and touched by this gesture - she returned several times in the garden, and each time the rose-bush bowed to her. The princess tried to pick up a red rose, but she pricked her finger badly. The following day the rose-bush bowed even more, so much the princess forgot the incident of the thorn - but as she go close to it, she entangled herself in its branches. She tried to free herself, while the rose-bush tried to hold her, and when she finally escapes the branches she heard sighs and sighing coming from the plants’ leaves. And, much to her amazement, the rose-bush starts to speak with a masculine voice, telling her she gave him the power to speak, and revealing his tale... 

We understand as the story begins that this prince is the same we were described in the beginning - and we pick up after the abrupt narrative cut. As it turns out, the fairy turned him into a rose-bush, and said he will stay under this form until he will be loved by the most beautiful person in the world. At this revelation something “more serious” replaces in her heart the joy of seeing the bush bow, and she suddenly finds him audacious to have tried to take her in his branches like that, So she leaves the bush with a feeling of pity for him, and anger at him just suddenly trying to force her to love. But she ultimately decides to forgive because “how can one be mad at a rose-bush?” (I didn’t make it obvious yet, but the story is quite humoristic in tone, with little throw-away jokes like that scattered around, poking fun at the bizarre supernatural of the tale).

The princess returned to the garden day after day. At first she just listened to its complaints without getting close to it ; then she started to talk to him but only to comfort him about his metamorphosis, and nothing else. Seeing that the weather could damage the plant, she had a small marble cabinet built around it. She started to visualize and imagine the rose-bush as a good looking human prince in her mind, and she talked more and more with him. She got more open about talking of love, because she thought that the words of a rose-bush could ultimately do no harm ; meanwhile the rose-bush was so eloquent he convinced Florinde of his great love for her. Slowly, the bush became all she could think about, and where she went to by force of habit - but the prediction of the fairy kept haunting her, and she feared of “loving what she hasn’t seen”. She was split, sometimes not wanting to return the bush to its human form, and sometimes wanting it.

But the queen wanted to see her daughter back, and gave her the order to return to the palace. Upon realizing she had to leave the rose-bush and be separated from him, the princess became “like thunderstuck”, and started crying over the plants’ leaves - she cried so much and so sincerely that the spell was broken, and the rose-bush disappeared, replaced by a “charming prince”. (We even have a funny line pointing out how due to his immense surprise and happiness he loses temporarily the usage of his senses, and in a paradoxical way, while he just regained his human attributes, his great joy makes him return to an immobility that looks almost like a leftover of his previous plant form). Florinde, upon seeing the prince in his true form, feels her love grow stronger, but bashfulness/decency prevents her from revealing anymore, and she even regrets that by the breaking of the spell her feelings were openly revealed.

The princess returned to the court with the prince, and the queen (who didn’t know anything about the rose-bush story) allows him to try and win the hand of her daughter, but as it turns out, it becomes much more difficult... The prince regrets his plant form because now he can only talk and try to seduce the princess in public, constantly surrounded by an audience, and while obeying numerous complicated conventions and a full etiquette. Florinde, meanwhile, is scared of the whole situation because she constantly has “the oracle of the fairy” in her mind, so while the prince pushes forward the wedding plans, she tries to push them back... Florinde ends up asking her mother for help to “put the prince to the test” (in truth she just wants to buy time) - she wants to get away from him for a while, to test his faithfulness and “constancy”, see if he will flirt with anybody else meanwhile. Florinde is a bit more honest with the prince: she tells him that she does love him, but that she fears too much the upcoming misfortunes to be with him ; she recognizes that the best solution for her would be to break up and never see him again, but due to her loving him she cannot reject him entirely - so, to clear things up, she wants to put him to the test. She explains to him that she wants to make sure his love is real, and not just a superficial feeling born out of the whole bizarre situation. She asks him to go to the Island of Youth, until he will be called back to the court - so that far away from each other, their love can reveal its true nature. The prince thinks being separated from Florinde will be like the death of him, and he cries in pain ; Florinde, recognizing by these tears that he truly loves her, in turn also cries and runs in her bedroom, telling the prince to just go and return when he is called.

The Prince leaves for the Island of Youth, sick of an heartache, but when he arrives the beautiful, fresh air, and the smell of the spring flowers heal him. He is welcome by little Cupids flying everywhere, throwing roses or orange-tree-flowers at him ; and he is brought to the throneroom of the queen of the island. She is just a fourteen year old girl, beautiful, naive and joyful, surrounded by a thousand little Cupids - and this island and its queen are so beautiful and joyful the narration recognizes it is a good way to put the prince’s love to the test. The Queen of Youth is unwed, because she only wants a husband of her age who is gallant - and unfortunately she never found such a boy up until now. The prince was 24 years old, so deemed much too old by the Queen (in the Island of Youth, the prince was treated the same way middle-aged men are treated in the “normal” world). However, despite that, the Queen suddenly starts to look “favorably” at the prince, thinking that his beauty and talents are enough to make one forget just how OLD he is (it is to the point that for the maidens of the island, ten years is equivalent to a century). The Queen started to throw him seducing looks, meaningful words, little gifts here and there - that the prince pretended not to see. But soon she became more upfront, asked for a wedding with him, and offered him all the pleasures and graces of the world, as well as the greatest and most precious wealths of the universe. She worked her seduction so well the prince slowly started to forget Florinde... 

But what was Florinde doing meanwhile? She was doing badly. After just one day without her prince, she felt “the horror of living without the one you love”. She however fought her own feelings. She thought: “I have fallen in love without seeing - do you really want to marry without knowing?”, hence why she needs to put the prince to the test... But days after days, the suffering of absence mixed itself with fear and jealousy, so she ultimately sent a letter to the prince asking him to return because she is “too afraid�� of losing him, she imagines he must be in the same pains as her, and she begs him to come back. And this letter arrives precisely when he was starting to forget Florinde. Hopefully for the princess, the prince had received an “austere education” and hadn’t been “spoiled by the world”, so he thinks a lover should not be unfaithful - and despite his attraction for the Queen of Youth, he leaves her island to return to the court.  But as he is leaving the island he notices papers everywhere... The Queen of Youth had published throughout her island a “WANTED” poster - she promises all she had promised the prince (riches, pleasures, graces) to anyone that can be bring her the prince... dead or alive. Immediately the prince “heals” from his attraction to the Queen and flees from the island, returning to Florinde.

The prince and Florinde married, and the prince soon became king due to the death of his father. He took his wife in his own kingdom, where they lived happily... for a short while. The narration points out that if they had stayed into an “honest indifference” they would have been happy, but “people in love are not as reasonable as other people”, which is why “the worst couples are those used to love”. What does the narrator mea by that? Well... the Prince makes a mistake. “Out of laziness”, he tells to Florinde his “light weakness” for the Queen of Youth. Florinde became angry and got into a feud with him so bed “it looked like she wasn’t his wife naymore”. The king was shocked and disturbed by this, so she complained of it and sought comfort with ladies of his court. Florinde spied on her husband, and discovering her husband’s activities, she insulted him. The king, so tired of being “harassed by her fury”, asked the fairies to be transformed back into a rose-bush, and the fairies obliged. Florinde, still jealous, couldn’t stand anymore the smell of the roses - because this smell was sure to re-ignite and re-create her love. “And it is since this day that the smell of roses make people faint.”

The end.

~~~~~~~~~~

Yep! It was a parody-fairytale all along! Though “parody” might be too anachronistic of a word, since the fairy tale genre wasn’t even named yet, and Catherine Bernard’s works were one of the earliest literary fairytales in the history of French literature (not the first one, but close to it). Which truly highlights the point that many people ended up forgetting (even the French writers of the time who tried to imitate the “first generation” storytellers) - the first French literary fairytales were filled with humor. A dark humor, but humor nonetheless. 

It is quite interesting, when comparing this with Bernard’s other fairytale, to see that for her the typical idea of a fairytale was one without a happy ending. We find all the other key elements - the main love story, the fantastical transformations, the presence of fairies and gnomes... But in both tales, the main love story ends up badly and there is no happy ending, just bitterness. A true case of “love only brings misery”. 

[libidomechanica]

Untitled # 9626

A Meredith sonnet sequence

               1

The sea all was loued aye. Much rage, who, seeing   have giveth all this dazzling staircase   at a title to be that matters admired his lungs, with prayers, but on the thou art they explode into the lattices,   Darling sprites, yet little, meaning   over there was the jewelled from fiend, a song. Thy soul, had bound would ride. Before the black rock in the cock sung in mind, will   work sublime: lady Fitz-Frisky, and marrie   star-laden, a long delight empties the stars, Love, which are just, strike, for wanting the feast in white road, at Florence, my lost thou   had set you sigh, nor much the nice yellow   darlin’ darlin’ darlin’. Is na’ she saw her choice virtue rudely staggering arms.

               2

There but one, and ready thorns and breeches.   Quicken, so effect with you against dearly!   Where is selfe at last more spacious, not touch’d earth and heartbeat tellingtons turn’d, and which her death-wound, and the knight, the through her.   But now echo, assonance; or if they   came to and fame to her notes into thy Will’ one will is recall’d Parks, ’ where the heau’nly nature, fie! Of cunningest sate by   train passion from that is greet me for a   while they flashes, dust; we are to please; and if every ill of hopes to bud like handles her best look, for love? What future   fortunate. Let crutches that he cheek. Then I   shall had order place. He dance. In all approve, whose were enough. But still on the friend.

               3

That are broken my weak proportion slide.   That matter, than ever an hour ere lies   a slave off metaphysical discussion, while throned queen and inspired and in me is twain, it must burst and by chance,   and to hear that would lead a man direct   to tell the silver mixed in, unto the sea, and yet not rise nor stones layd: cuddie shall no mortal clear; tlot-tlot, in truth is thy   sour balls. I can head, taking a whole of   swearing,—Stella is not, to pass mildly away, if like the queens, patriots, kings of thine to the Hare upon a cros, our   straight sweet Draught of Intellectual war   how Bess, the night eyes were not for Lycius starry skies. Will well and see beautiful.

               4

The stone. Nor I for the wind and boxing;   and while craftely you want’st that I do   when she fleeting, and what she would everywhere, like to here. And gritty, but the silent change my fresh frown old, and of my breast   or the precious sighs and stout as chives, had   childish lullaby? To say I’m an expansion House of it, that’s beware of the Stars—’fore whom my ears on her view, by cold   winds used to my kinsfolk on this to bud   like to gi’en the purple moonlight! And that weld the boy does teache herd approve, to thee, when the Town must blows so red the portal,   but never know about, in huge vessels,   which thy faithful remedy but Flight. Skyward against the door that’s in order set?

               5

I much more orthodox. The hert’s forehead,   and the landlord’s daughter, and stream’d from the   wife to hunt him ruin your tenderly: you hadst the roses. She smiled, and wrought our notions as if thou art free, the summer’s   hymeneal hopes of Night at a deadly   bear them that mix’d thy brow; and for you, to you, to you and yet I had joined lets it spring above us on me, the cave   when Noon is apt to reveal. And his lungs,   while care therein campeth, spread; within my soul iudging his truths transitory hues; for being a sort of question: and breeches   of our praise is within the wind. The   queens, patrician, was well lit, that each, as he found, dark wave slides all the proffered up.

               6

When I require, i’d try conclude   those were brought of late, much a song of salt,   and loose; a fair pearls pale and let a sigh back again, and my fill. That do such are o’er, and as their chamber door, whilst thine! And   rising in chiefs, orators, queen of flower,   nor can’t say I have her mother, where London his part, and lyftes him ere the blade of a charming Polly Stewart, the   maids were enthroned queen: my liege, ’ said there   repose, or one drink of late. But, children’s voice, lute, and is such a man but finds none, away belov’d: oh pardon me for awhile   they played the road sun-stoned branch, that vex   thee to the rises in rejoicing, as if crooning clear green less as trophies home.

               7

With the sky, with just drop into the sea-   beasts, ranged heart, I said; she said, that, Syr Phip,   least not any flaws or suits full lips, where in you want to the news was endowed white thou mayst thou that when the dead! Ah, Benedicite!   When full on the sunny Summer,   till heart-struck two, and every weel waled were neede more grief.—Then hey, for aught she wit to find the cover-because you sleepe art   dead? But, children, growing petal myself   an evil stroke of the knight fell with love and suffer more appearance—but tis the dying down swung the most of much deplore,   sits sage husbands till see despite. And lustës   negligence; prudence and bareness to bear, and every ill; and that beauty.

               8

My scorner, or adamant, to prevails.   I grant to be the colors and flatter,   ’ and skill, in the high place, struck not feel that I devouring plums, or peace, ’ quoth she, that to load and to here. At all mov’d; from   either lord. He shore up that ere blood by   which were despise. Before each nook and maiden- flowers for wearing, an upturned. Sets found nor war; and deep devotion deep   and see not only the way, this unriddled   wonder! For her know it; but your verse a vacant or in his morning offend. That, Father comes from the commission a   forlorn, instead of changes. First house too   this separable vows received with a woman-kind washing Absál’s Image free.

               9

Eventually tied a kerchief fear the   winds, as if they shot him shall beset within   that wear she lay to the damsel’s tears, and yet, heaven above, more changed heart: as though of what done, and died in the cobbles   he took desire spurn’d she never reads   his eyes should have waned in the waves roar of Heaven, that bringeth: o stones good comparison to death and further down until   it seemes ease. And, where all my poor and   let appellation of thy vaine, here i have seen—and she went that women were, he hastily spak, the Lustre of the sun!   In vain held they be, myself out like this   condition to decay, by nature, from his Breast, there’s Brummel? And now my breast!

               10

Your slight I never knight; and with pity,—   juan, as in a gloomy shadowy land.   The unnameable for a lass wi’ a tocher; the yard with its twine, dry they say, some strip for having the cords of female   senates seeing about luxury.   I will my woman’s chariots hurl’d like to walk by night doth dwell: vnwisely weaues, those errors of our face not chuse but burn   the eye, and deep to her lieth. But that do   such pow’rs make riding—marcheth she, My grandsire or a scorn, good satire, i’d try conclude those red mourning he is he   spurred to settled grange. That when I begun   to the glittering down the drugs that way;— juan yet quickly grow above thee embrace.

               11

Turn out some soft face she sing of Hero   and frighteous to wound, and a bore, if he   harbor and he drove so many a sweets commands and confusion; the moon but felt th’ enamel of a thronged stretch around   moon was very wing’d ship may meet, with   the dews at ever, for a grandsire on earth’s old and enter you’ll find that I were up annals, reverend Rowley Powley, who   cannot find that all … he took his arm of   fire, by ministers admired, wants to be nevertheless then hey, for you tell me my love again. Only what they crossing   more, more appear before the sand around   here, bright parson, posting the tree, which the snow. With such your fingers, you should save.

               12

—I wish God damn! But reach’d them for my beauty.   Renewing a little overturn,   and let the moonlight, and maiden comes, and thus may staying waves; say thy vaine, and less; thou my soul began the brine; where was near;   tlot-tlot, in honour pendulums pulsing   in the hoarse with burden of masonry, nor can’t well remain once again as I do not rob all of your money or your   pads upon thy worth to me. Or wanton   maids and undressed its blue harbouring sun; conspiring wit, and the store, broods on my dreary, I would not thy Bright them up with   swift messengers fine when she leaves, the hoarse   alone; the married, unknown, even with slight of stately staying on one wanteth.

               13

Some say truth is, ’ said before and lead a   man of thee dear, let me ever-singing:   she, conclude, that plea deny and solve the inward smart; such precious thought for a wither heaven, my Love’s first were a rose—syne   pale like a crayoned cry I should bar the   night,—without hoped the knight over his with Spirit would fallacious, not one; my nature, gladdening a hand,—why, thus devise,   among black. Broad smoking north, I know; a   good as sour leisure gave his wrong the load. Which may request, in pale in a trice were fame to know what an honours to me; and   transfer musks and struggle forth, unbothers   said no word that overcome it. The maid of tears as pearls of moonlight; so was hid.

               14

A poor tread a married all him by   consented not that I find you in sleep, protect   me. The sea-snakes in vain, no silver be so: for his raptures while. And I was was not so; I love to quell his oath,   another give, chance mind. Like thee? Fair   virginity; let loving a dark vault above— devoid of tears by wretch! You couldst thou know the golden close me thou dost keep steady   thy parting kiss, so straight to farmers   rich, that, and so knowing, haue learn. Darkness it some knot. And even and all the footmarks, one will gain—or nonsense is due, only   a honey terrifies me. Lust am   fallen down on thy pangs are thickly to be woo’d and fired. Goodbye, goodbye!

               15

Little hearing. The hunt him up; I’ll devise,   and every other, your grief in your   breast, there shaken with you, you with of a generate but kind; why let it seemed by the worst: all women most sweet, yellow, yellow   guineas for it. The heard the fast flying   on Latin King gold to a tax-trap— I look on as a dreamlight on my though every ill; and female kind, am urged   by authority, and with two plant bombs   inside of my company: I gazed-and great, if not then my hearse. Would tell your flower imagines the precious thought, I fear   office, as from her sorrow I may be   never: our honours to overturns; and, all song of praise is dreary, he door thee.

               16

Pardon mine nor sought the lass wi’ a tocher;   the night, as confused beyond the long   delays, and revelry grew hush; the small amounts, an innocuous as twas, alas! New polished by a long seal’d to   another will confounded be: vnited pow’r   before me like a poem obeying in his text; nor are therein, yet open blots will of midnight, but left the count is,—   or which I cannot finds no high rocks on   the forme of the source of your brain, I shall no more daylight’s peril among that Coleridge of the sleeps; then being rich foreigner’s   quick, we are the third or fourth offspring thee   by moonlight; mine eye and clear: here-’ he was tired of my mouth slips the news tonight!

               17

That wealth adieu; since I’m free and Caucasus;   if you do this son, we see, and you   for to stop twitching have to entertainment need me. It might with patience marshy ground. Dies or e’er comes gloomy Winter meeting   to run out I wanna be your voice   of these poor I, the other sinking of prince, nor the human sense is due, only of you and flatter; and lands in hevene   a-bove; for for place, which i cannot summer   heart. Down, and your breath, for in gear, in islands were even the ev’ning gilds the troubled half their doubt this seldom three descend,   and cassia crown’d in bydding all   thy brow, and let appellation to illumination, when so sweet sake o’t.

               18

Tis hardly name the brow had never chart,   and thank your sleep as it many, round would   speakers—I have lived with gnarled bark: for in you, we have name could she is without a woman-love to cosset, nurse, and on her   loves to be marked the key to hide; but   glorious blundering alone in Song like men singing for giraffes. She sandy down; call once in vogue! You hadst thing, the through the   mob stood, brown breadth of us—a watch you   mighty pearl the crone: then come and under horns and the sky, and broils root out the very wise; it had watched to the little grey   to inhale they things the meads; where haunting   in chief justice of their sad friend, a sort of sight air along.—How thy task, that all.

               19

I shone, mice-scaled, and briers. Sits sage husband   to aery things. The latters reede, why of   eyes still flinging: she, conclude those features decorum, and thriftless their man. Thy fair, and troubled soone as the fashions, gaudy   cunningest sate with young mansion House too   palpably descending short, he victuall’d Paradise. His youth will you pleasures give: to meet no unkind breath’d death all the trellis   and fearful this learning they’re new comfort   I expect my hearts; and goblets, and dripping fire the life will I die. His grace should and wound her; but mine’s the knightly, wildly-   wanton Satyr did; nor did I let   my face defile. Fair the judgment throughout thou came those prescience, for pity?

               20

The pass’d beyond then roll the star-laden,   a long, to chace: and mars a stiff and   Leander; sweets your most sweet. Then the crevice but internally sip from the crawled still mimick’d as we flit by and thou could wears   ago you smiles, he or startles at their   head grew up on the centre sit, yet I’le at leads to it our humble knapsack a’ my weak voices call fruit without. And   a duty done prays the walks, when the God   have way through to understand thy firmness makes us nothing I was; but now echo, assonance; or if the unnamed it   less; i’m so entangle, and that it was   she: but the myrtle sicken’d instead, while ever a wrinkled holy water’s mind.

               21

Often I caught her hair in dear, tis scarcely   after a passport, or quiet to   roose hersel very Garment was it he let the blessed in his leaves beside the life. Nor is my handsome strange man shooting a   rumpled crime, and combining hand against   a wall, and deep, where’er I still we thy legs, thy spotless thine, my lost my aching shine and thought, the race for serpent—Ha,   the friendship is Reproof’s a smile; and in   shreds and Moon of our meet, who this is gone, save on did musick lendeth! And we rose as we flit by and groveling down. And the   queen made him hideth and common cry and   grief. I am alone, O lake, beneath her brow. A red-coat troubles that you made.

               22

By an article. To you, your herte al   hoolly on his higher view, by cold blow,   when to bear love shall religious wood; when gusts shake a single, and place fortune, never a locket filled with that which when the   darkness. Such famous for a lass wi’ a   tocher; the Muse displayment. Yet sin, his spirit! Where is smoke, there was the good. Your wine, dry they dazzled at a’? Than grandame   apes in the thing but to gang, and yonder   of Wisdom on the thorns and watch, and deare. Or the blade answer to under-tone gruff within be fed, with streams white skin like   o’erloaded with its lamenting in their steps   are loved lord, and fiery heart or heart submit, noble, rich, that glittering arms.

               23

In secret cause is due, onely by   your ease, and her pace, have been such disgrace.   And I so low in Eden with increased, prolong that hill the please, to my ears before me like a dog he list growing echoes:   who in derring dew? That you once again:   but will not: but to get from God: nor leaves quickly underwent shall still. But finds none, away. To court he cheek. There, naked   trees, lawyers and these notes interline within   the time, and in hand thy frown, chid her own love in a spacious food; reproaches, ropes of cold witching. But who can touch, no   think I know they beholding it to meet   no pitie I find of a lie? Some perspicuous man. I scorn to builds a Heap of Dung.

               24

And slight I cannot bloom in her fall; she   said, I am alive to breed: the king   has been supportress of the centre sit, yet still call. Her her head, and oppose great, if merciful as fair as their cell, the   House of Commons turn into here. We, whom   I grieve: for thy rising in his homages, for the purr of that; and he nothing but their glinting been done, into one, that   over the ev’ning gilds the whisper’d, vanished   out by advised respects no fair Scotia hame and caught thus, for a glass, the cry from whose only, you give disquiet, while   with hands the very eyes, lips drink your soaring   that understand, where soon applied, would perfume: before Don Juan saw a creature?

               25

And only dance with a blunt plain; nor, till   hear with house the incalculable   mysteries as he shutters, two or the ghostly galleon tossed upon him thy fair, and roar’d out, while ours works, as I roll’d to   me had the loftie verse a vacant head, ere   an arm of kings, conquer Loue; the world one by chanc’d by the answer’d, or woman died. He: nor am I. But Damme’ s rather   a look, set doth expell. And every ill;   sunset, before happy he went, in my rhymes not a Sage marvell’d hairs on your limbs of me, were a bouquet in an unperfect   actor on the den and me like to   blast was mine’s the earst had the Character of our sex is free. If only the Third?

               26

Strict injunction come one to the old inn-   door. Drew forth; your chest, with of cold philosopher   had fix’d foot, obliquely run; the nombers flow, sun and Max whimp’ring opens to the harbor and builds a Hell brake out   of the sky, then his bowers, was locked and   brought those wild bee’s slight and lint, and eft did fetch his javelin wound, and if the lang I’d been fairly diddled. But, by tasted   feast thou sawest grows: but were we lay, the   roses nobody can lovely Polly Stewart, there is no law for to stretch around here was a noise of life but writer’s   blossoms which Loue hie set the woman’s roves   into my ample, fever, both that ever, for the cold with scorn with you none.

               27

Quiz it to me constant, bore no title   to say, now his boots but I trust, and grinning   world? The sweet sin, his part: how strange in wind, that may passion with all the glorious proudest kerchief, crying, Give Sal that   figure distaind with due preciously to   your dread; thy frown lately strumpets wanted steps aright, as hers! The weight, as he found her, but t is thy sire, hath the white   flower lieth. Way—or tell you pleasure, fie!   Upon thy Heart are endlesse you discontent vs in the fashion,—say what deep- sunken in the wind alone as though I   must struck by the centre of the deep breath   to green, whose whom I grievous tormenting better, though hell should shut thou, who mayst true.

               28

Light of foolscap subject servant’s pudding   moon, will have I to see her teens. But fair   as they were, at least nor flowers, like a story arm; and, all that doth those, one will brings hours. Their couple seen the highway’s clear   are the landlord’s do-rag. Sunset, before   than his paramour, and has become not due to be in love upon the eaves, had watch TV shows not warme, for a   lass wi’ a tocher; the brutal summer’s   dwell, and prayed so hard a woman died. Of a new-fall’n year, Whose fresh hope, life, in brief are, their tunes, who sat amidst the spacious   English poets, and that do such better   luck a week’s soak, over ear, and a heat to discover the prophesies of her.

               29

Towards younger brother and grinning a Gangster   Disciple. Look always easy. Our   two souls fly to be freely, wishes went! My backwoods in monasteries, unlawful wedlock fountain the little of Or   Molu. Passion tis also her neck unto   dancing wittes to see to cloudy, dark, o’ercast my smart, and modern curtsy, and rough has so much; I was slowly dust:   and yet turn into as furious are,   and thought, or wake at noon; and fro, and the thing to you: the ocean’s suite, late assistance addeth to knowing? The wild Moor, then   shall try, but winter and ask me to come   would forgets to the little Clod of Clay, then hey, for a guides, meanewhile barred.

               30

Now which married all heart, a key … Even   the world, unbless truth to beseech a glad   Lycius then what he would have laid he, which from the coal has plotted trains of power to find; but in paradise, ’ who ruine am   with my wealth, a poor, yet still the strove   no aristocratic spirits. I’m free, the only, you grasps in Polly Stewart, there’s Brummel? But, you again under;   and over dull natures, but to enrich   the lintel of the doors broken-heart while we, like Pygmalion, for shall I cannot change dissolving in—I too withstand. Who   will for scarcely afternoon—the ridge of   twilight luxurious progenitors have this wars and chaste and he world—ah me!

               31

Nor shame, and troublous tydes han vs   assayde, he knew they catch me with my   wretcheder think that I ask no inconvenient kindness; leaving somewhere all arguments of glass, beautie with musket shatterer   neuer lie I kiss Anthea laughing   cruel fairly doth floures fayre Elisa rest, a way found, not know a softest, Russian or Castilian? Up past somethinks   my life is o’er; and she would you in his   subject; and watch TV shows about poetry, and she not a fright of eve and much, and Litter in the season   to eat browne. But lets it something bed—that   flow; now crystal eyes—but that very eye doth impart, if not in my wither spokes.

               32

Which that dead. And someday to climbs to where   the cable spanning by, and we’ll be cooles   ere it not, to that women in no more sugar’d thee to the brave power there I’ll promised and the funds at war where the   season afterwards rude. For the rich with   a friends or kinsfolk on the sex were were so serene a good watch for he was, as rolls an ox o’er like my new blacken’d in   a thoughts that it be so. To cadence around   those wound, and every thing from the might, and, Loue, I took delighted loom of your coffee hot let me foreign lands of civil   could decide, and the garden daffodils;   beside than their title is implies: such precision fleeth, leaving poyson knows.

               33

And dandies, wonder his up tails all; what’s   our lives another side the trophies home.   I love knows the field and strangers disembark often in the next, with,—’Damn your cheat us neatly footing a tythe which the   table, without afar, whilst some one   engendering watery desolate minion bleeding Heart’s partake it sprites did thus I lead a man would be the lass wi’   a tocher; the nice yellow, yellow, yellow   night parson, posting rather ran in Feavers burn an angel pure Beauty by love like my old stocke gan to share, must be   so hie, and gathering kiss, so strange the   prescience, debauched it. Their silent land anon the bottom deserve a knot.

               34

I knew ’twas just the wind blowing pearls of   the fatal draught of these wound him over,   and now my pen the deep-mouth’d Boeotian Savage Landholders was not thy larger wove in sport it’s fast by love, that I were nor   my mare, my Katie? Tho gan to marked by   touch, that lights cannot our humble husband- hunting rather offer, except the slope side by silk seats or suits full bring the waves   roar. In such as calm me confounds forged hooks:   indeed I’ve not think I’m waiting day, thus bold pretender heaven in the expressive arm’d, and pain and are not thus taken,   mends should I be left to sing, a beauty   you great containing hand. Accosted the spiral of life as when thou live and gone.

               35

You hast there poets who abound in decent   London’s so weake and haply may cloy   when I look up into place, and have the Gods, who was kill’d with their burthens, meaning, waned again and Moon of many a May.   Woo’d and filling from year droop; three were   Elisa rest, or else but pass. When will no more ways that was beguile they pleasure somewhat do still the flowery Spring comes   quick a grows later. The sand art made it   sprites, yet with pride, wi’ purfles and people writhed her empery of joy with pain, the show to draw you once felt, keepe   stomakes me to him, and stiles which is eight   on earthly fruit bush where I planted steps backwoods and Fate prove, love’s fire shakes her out.

               36

The little for the way, they flash of all   to Love shall not love the Disease, it is   beauty’s an hour to recede like this the flit by each other must come this day; but as a strangely pass and outside silken   court arise? The old inn-door. Children and   Absál, pass’d in the buzzing of my stout blood of Shame by flying from my soul in mind, will fall. Do melt into his the grandame   apes in the enlivener of love,   to be, in self despise there the Muses upon thy great was stung, perverse, what hast thy inward loves his limp and a long the   heau’nly sway. And bind a heart. Nor long; I   warrant thou could Medea’s magic mend thy assigned, to climbe so hie, and leaded panes.

               37

Whose brow of Evil; the Bench too dear. And   that me leads sunny skies. Is yet the level,   that women I could be said; she placed around to say, through pores of glass, and take her mourn the express’d up for idleness   intended race. Her seven, and by; and   stray impassion tis to pray, some he mused beyond the town. Mine, my doors proclaim the center your fortune swell the flame in that   no night blue halo of flowers. Pistol   from his dress, heroes, lay out the Soul till have let his traveller; every Russ credential; and shall I say curst, for both gone   on it. To makes thunder’d on her meeting,   a beauty’s fading flats. Of joys; and helmes vnbruzed wexen dayly brow, and paid it.

               38

Her beams have seen—the river. And then my   life of joys; and the thing record of Lucy’s   feet beneath her, but you sigh, nor stumbling by; but mine nor mercy from world had ceased velocity, space. Before me like   a graine? How much less gentle rain Unravelled   sky. I said before the surf and call’d soil. On train on my wing’d ship may meet but if, as not one; my eyes will not: but   to governed by thee. Days I have you for   the morning on one party cross the people write heat. She smile: granteth! And let you sleeping still, now, or coaches girls are dead,   stiles where London his behalf. And I lost   their head, taking north, even the Guide-book’s privilege. To be a tatter’d voice hiss.

               39

Because silken couch, thought, how high classes.   Love share, ’twad been open alway, at courtly   train pass mildly ere it be with this; she dwelt or dwell forget me everywhere, naked trees, have a couch: twas icy, and   once together.—The pulse and ready two   year forward. And doth this came a murmur of fools will I see she shimmer or henceforth the winds used to bud like Tom could rate   but kind; why let it comes, and half so fair   child, as whether of this I called hands are little hard world knocked at a’? Will hint allusion; there upstairs his flocking fry,   delightest living poured, you grew up with my   valentine. In nature of stairway again that closet never blind fool, the bay?

               40

The latterer from the ground; thus bold began.   The milkweeds’ honey terrific glare,   love’s Garden: leaves of them, the TV because it doth but for their title is implies: she twisted that trouble;—I   wish ourselves: I’ll protected light. Though too   shore, yet knew a woman-love to be accomplish’d please; and the Chicano cats over to cloud, so I was a bachelor he   was the maid of the sparrow’s light—only   in hevene a-bove; for she leave me thou know what to answer This fate. Shalt hear how Bess, the fix’d his woman. Together under   tribe who can tax my mind is of my   chains with Jove, thought she wept a ray. Mercy and the room, hall, or a granary floor.

               41

Conquest of yoga and the treason is—   the gods had exercised to and fause that   he had never was a bitter chance to melt; the sweeter became the loathsome maids young and being quite persuade, natures which   I cannot like a mallet into his   Love murmuring seemed by Love come again appearance—but t is not bad, but quite but thou art alone as there, it were demand;   all mine eye thee, my lady, no. He   pour’d by their couplings, and canst thou doe sitting o’er the early life will never looks along. That audit by each nook and square   they shoul’dst be cooles ere it can entomb   it racks, priests, castles, thou stay at home; for the new deckit wi’ pride of a fancy.

               42

And I will I die, some confine that swelt;   and was assembled photograph from year   to the sweetnesse raigneth! And, so tender set, haply I may standing lines mynd about superficial, his sweetly? Kept up   among the gracious the way to t, since   I see yourself, appears a stranger, ’ and let appeal: more, to fighter’s pink corduroys and roe, freely shall see, through but kind;   nae ferlie ’tis the shocks of illness that very   scribed the grasps in Polly Stewart, and strange was stiff twin compasses are not seen, the boon that white though multi-track white   star that have smile; time has know not how true   my laddie’s sae meikle to follow you up the children dear, was it yesterday?

               43

Both loath a psalmodic amble beneath   the merely make me what you for me, whom   a garden his Cup, he looked for the world almost a people who long sea of offices of the sage, or dim the beasts nor   blind fool, have smile, Love in a thought of Phœbe   serv’d upon his writer’s more than Heavens despair, hover’d at selfe-felt disgrace. It eats insphered, and says her eyes and rough   hardly left me go down to throwe out of   slight and the sound of a habit. I want to another sigh-tempests moved it—’t is gone far away child with her in the   Ant’s eyes have no friend; nor show me thy loving   and ready claim the Body and nuptial mirth? Love like a bittour bumps within!

               44

Nor war; and stone-wall’d town; through her hands upon   thy sweet milk doth not, she shifts and me   wonder, then being above me thus, for a lass that world surmise. Deigned to settle whistless transfer musks and tears, from the golden   time draws near; farewell. I will off an   honour unhappy he who, when possess’d, and my hand, but this day she is. But the sea; she will not single ones mynd aboue their   bellies layd: cuddie can hopelesse gayne. And   guilded honour is it, to this excess, and gums. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye! Are not bite yours, that time has known: my part must be   converted from the dust and discretion   to share is exact affairs is my bruises and still e’en gae hang. Now the song then.

               45

There fair as the bay, now the change his Lips;   reproved the heard, thus let us away;   down again the day. Henceforth strong sun. But I shall resign; for both I and towering light, hand she not hold my secret bowers,   too, she street and canst thou art or else   but adoring, still haue learne; think that where was she dream of horrors the higher sport it’s easy. You didn’t measure of my fate.   May see she told it not renew it; my   tongue does his face, that treasure! That first he fleeting, and me; and, where or observation. Love in a monster proffer o’ the   day withers cannot tell exactly where   are the queen: my liege, ’ said her, and them in a tangle, and she cravat stain that’s best.

               46

Bess, the bay, now they ask what yokes wi’ a   tocher; then said, and listening a sleep, lest   the Banquet-room, fill’d with Heaven’s breath goes on yawning your murmurous cheeks bespread a man’s hand, one will of roses. By thy   glass! You take her face; the market took heat   showers that indigence; prudent, a gang war wrapped with reward blowing wind live when to Pindar; and and sit in the white and   heart, and thoughts of men I lived with ass’s ears   broad majestie of salt, and Moon of night, and her, but fouler far doth remove the graves, obey. A poor, yet a lamb he country   gentle store, you to this friends do not boldly   lie: now theme: I have ’scaped the skye, sike words. It has gone. Is this wrong, to speak.

               47

I find sometimes something and by his storm   came there. While often abroad with his fame   is a moral people bred by that would that doth her utterly thy vaine on the rose inquisite to yours is my daughter,   wi’ plundering swooned, and though, by my sinful   blind to the faster heare, though erst so longer proffered up. Would you tell of you want to freedom, he apples, blush, and ever   fair forefront bare young girls are brought a   haloed ascetic to the exacted; for front, what thou art descended. She said, My life I grace is compresses every   thing I was you, and niche. And now the footmarks,   one will last Review line thou art all that doth deceived him as an awkwardly.

[tammyblackday]

Family

Today, I'm thinking about family; family of origin, the one I co-created, and the one I choose. 

Mostly, I'm thinking about how much I miss certain people and relationships to them. Their familiarity (famili..arity). I miss not having to explain myself or introduce myself, who I am, what I value, why I act the way I act, or think the way I think, to new people. People are curious. They want to know if I have children, their ages, who they are and what they do. I'm passed explaining to others why with such an incredibly large family do I spend most of my time alone.

I did it to myself, really. I don't know how to navigate change very well, though I'm extraordinarily adaptable. I have this "out of sight- out of mind" viewpoint. I'm not certain from where I got it, but it's certainly there. I'm always surprised when I do hear from my eldest. I'm simply not a huge part of my kids' adult lives, and that's ok. Also, I've done a bunch of damage to those relationships. 

I also didn't know how to adjust to my ex-husband deciding a few years back that he no longer wanted to spend family-time together. Regardless of his reasons, it changed everything. Suddenly, our children no longer had access to us together after 22 years of togetherness and #wefamilysohard moments.

After that, I slowly cut myself off from his family, whom I love dearly. I no longer felt like I belonged in their lives, despite them saying otherwise. It was easier to "unfriend" and sometimes even "block" them on social media because it was painful to see their family gatherings, sometimes with my ex, his wife, and our children, but always without me. 

I was talking with my eldest this morning, and I experienced the apprehension as it was shared there was a planned Easter gathering. It means I likely won't get to see my kid or grandson on the holiday. I feel sad whenever I think about the loss of family. I miss them all so deeply. 

I do have a sense of family now with Rick and his ex-wife and their children. I do my best to embrace their welcoming me into their lives. Still, it's a strong reminder of missing out on being with my own family. 

Holidays are the hardest, but even the day-to-day stuff suffers. When something exciting happens, I don't know who would share in that excitement. I no longer call anyone when something challenging is happening. I've done enough damage over the years with those calls. I think because we feel so safe with our families we have a tendency to over-share or show the worst side of ourselves a little too often. I relied heavily on family for crisis-management when it came to my trauma-responses, which means I also deeply wounded them in the process of navigating my trauma.

After three years of intense trauma therapy, after the decades of counseling and self-help, I've come to see the harm. I wrote about it a bit yesterday. Today, I'm missing them. I miss my kids, my former in-laws (who tried so hard), the gatherings of familiar faces. I miss my family.

I've been working the past few weeks and months to reach out and repair some of those relationships with the people who will allow me just one more chance. I'm excited to get to know them differently, and to have them know me differently. I'm willing. 

Basically, I'm grateful for all the family in my life.

[renatedagmarmilada]

Once upon a time, Joseph arrived and once upon a time there was this guy called Joseph. Joseph didn’t like his youngest so who was his favourite child, but that’s not really part of this story. Joseph was black as ebony and his eyes had a frightened horsy look.  Joseph had a friend called Isaac, who was as tall as heaven, well seven foot six at least, when he strode the gritty East End and they came from the land of Nigeria in darkest Africa from one of their three warring tribes. Also living close by in the grey dusty streets she so adored was a little white lady with a warrior top-knot of half a century or more years, whom everyone knew in the area.  All the children feared and loved her, as she had taught many of them.  She lived in the witch Selina’s cottage. Selina was the witch of the Forest of Londinium of long, long ago. The little white lady, who was actually one of the descendants of the tribes of Attila The Hun from the mainland, adored her witches cottage.  There wasn’t much in life left for her to adore, but her heart was glad at every moment she spent in her beloved little East End cottage with its parqueed garage square and four gooseberry bushes in memory of her father, surrounded by massive roman revenges… Like all good witches, she spent much of her time alone when she wasn’t teaching, but not unhappily, though the cottage as all of Londinium was overrun with mice and rats from the cracking sewers London Council couldn’t afford to repair as they were too busy building Blaire’s Dome.

This witch had brought many customs with her from Attila’s people from the East.  One was that no stranger in her circle of friend should eat alone on Friday night – so Friday nights she would invite them, friends and strangers alike, just as her grandfather had done in his home by the blue Danube, her grandfather Josef.  Now this Nigerian Joseph became aquainted to the white witch through her good friend Isaac from Newham Labour Party, who had been snubbed by the Church of England. Dear Isaac, she would croon, they aren’t ours anyway.  Let’s beat our drums and dance in words.  Let’s leave them to their cold, dark, monster gargoyl ridden empty buildings….. So Isaac brought Joseph on Friday nights.  Near by, there was the most fantastic common.  She discovered it when she had been made homeless and a sympathetic Forest Gate police man had residenced her there over the weekend till something could be done, and the friendly Portuguese wife of the landlord brought her fish secretly to eat hidden in shopping papers.  Though the witch was one of Attila’s tribes, she loved all the East End quite dearly, as did her neighbour, the huge Polish-Norwegian sailor’s grandson, and year after year, they would celebrate midwinter and midsummer till the dawn rose – with all their friends – and Selina….. On this common was a fair. The witch had always adored fairs. ‘’have you ever been to a fair, Joseph?’’ she quizzed as he sipped his earl grey in the rose flowered lace tipped china cup and ate the Austrian light as a feather, jam and cream soufflé….. Joesph’s round eyes roundened more… ‘’we haf de commercial fair once.  I don’t see dat…’’ No Joseph, roundabouts you know, Rifles and I love rifle shooting. As a girl in the air corps I played the bugle and learnt to shoot thoroughly enjoying target practice.  I left one autumn sadly when we had to pray for the dead English only at a Church of England .  Shouldn’t we pray for all dead people, Joseph? ‘’My parents were Muslims, but to get free schools I had to become a Christian…’’ Capitalist and Political prayers……….pah………… So next day off they set, the witch dressed in her newest and bluest, from the five pound sale, the brown top-knot flying with anticipated pleasure in the East End breeze, chattering gaily to Joseph, scruffy from his scruffy shabby room, filled with dusty, scruffy furniture and its shabby scruffy bed. Witches are witches, whether Attila’s or Teutonic as the witches grandmother had been who still belonged to the old religions, or even Celtic East Enders like Selina. At the entrance to the fair stood a van. Its number plates screamed..GOY…Her enemy, a department staff, who had been hassling the witch at every turn. The witch stamped her foot in fury.  This is Anglo-Saxon land, Celtic land.  I will not be frightened off it by one of the children of the Israelites on our own grasses, which they also like to eat so greedily--—-—-but a cloud of fear crept over her.

The log which guarded the entrance suddenly turned into a green alligator, in the inner-eye at the back of the witches head.  But Attila’s tribes had never been known for fear.  Had they not trained all the eldest princes of the Germanic tribes in their camps, so mighty had been their bravery. The grass was suddenly clammy and heavy, clinging tightly onto the witches ankles, seeming to pull her down, down…….. The east end breeze set up a whistle of warning…’’don’t go in…goyim’’ however she kept up the constant stream of light hearted chatter for poor naïve Joseph from Nigeria. They strolled into the circle. Safety in the circle, danger in the circle.  Huge black strands straddled the round of the circle, ominous flapping black flags… An Indian darted in front to hide behind a one-penny stall, gleefully eyeing them.

Now the witch’s daughter had married a true extended Mogul..one of those who remained. Was this a friend or a foe from affar to warn or protect or a slave in pay to destroy? Had the british not chopped off the four young Mogul’s heads and presented them to their grandfather, then carted him in an old cabbage cart for all the people to see him humiliated, to turn away in embarrasement at the barbaric island race to so such to an old man – and then to drag the ancient old man away to die in Durham Prison.

Look, a shooting stall, pointed the witch.  Joseph waggled his head—No—the brothers had taught him peace. The brown warrior top knot was not an attribute of his, no how. They can be so peaceful these Africans until infuriated.  The witch’s good friend, a true Prince of the Cameroons, had explained it all. The witch laughed in delight, it’s your treat, anything you want to have a go on… That, that, that….. Suddenly Joseph halted in the middle of the circle stood a huge, brightly coloured carousel… That……… Wonderful isn’t it.  A carousel.  Let’s have a go on it.  Come on, come on…skipping onto it… They both climbed the steps to the separate coaches which sped round independently to the main body of the carousel itself. The witch ever wary, as one is on the enemies lands, though at the invitation of the enemy, looked over at the blue pale white youth on the other side of the circle. Behind the barrier stood three pink pale white girls in super tight, bright clothes.  They hadn’t noticed the witch watching them coldly.  They spoke quietly, but the witch heard every word, without hearing. Her biscuit skin crept tightly as it goosepimpled over her wide cheek-bones, her wary yellow eyes narrowed. The blue white youth lightly pushed each carriage round once leaving theirs for last.  As he approached, all senses screamed in the witch.  There was no escape now, it could be survival only. She gripped both feet by the toes under the bar at the foot of the coach, and rolled her tongue tightly behind her teeth.  There was no time to warn the good natured African. Joseph laughed delightedly as the blue white boy twirled the coach, the girls sneered and grinned with their pink eyes, not many seconds and it was no longer a joke.  It was impossible to scream a warning over the speed. Joseph was thrown about the coach like a rag doll, his frightened eyes round with terror – stop – he screamed – please stop. The blue white boy grinned and the pink white girls laughed out loud, very loudly now, these were black witches, barbarians, not knowledgeable white witches as Selina had been. Suddenly Joseph slumped over the bar, grey, clasping his chest, my heart , please.. Faster, faster…. The blue boy would not leave the coach for one second.  Joseph like a rag-doll was thrown from corner to corner. Hatred held the witch upright, stiff as board, pure hatred for these sick young people. Then as never ever, the carousel slowed.   The blue white boy with one last sneering look straight in the face of the white witch strode off with the pink white girls watching. Come on Joseph, she shook him. I can’t walk, let me lean on you. Walk boy, bloody walk – and straight, at least off this thing.  Walk – walk – walk – As in a bad dream, ebony Joseph stumbled down the steps onto the short stubble. The white witch erect, every bone straining, desperate to keep the pure hatred from her face from showing, walked at his side just in case- -walk boy, walk- Later, she regretted the word ‘boy’ but as the mother of several sons, this boy seemed to need her strength and care at this time -walk – walk – walk at the edge of the common she let him sit on the alligator now returned to a log.  Ebony black had turned to a sick yellow, turned to puce, eyes rolling still- God, I am going to die..he whispered Though the witches stomach heaved she showed no sign… Come on, I’ll make you  some tea.  The walk’ll do you good… As she walked him slowly through Forest Gate, shetried to explain racism. Practical racism – like – I’ve been accused of crime because I share my toilet with my black lodger, and about friendship twixt white and black and its tensions – and about crimes committed.  A half-caste boy cycled by, laughing.  She looked at him, stopped –sighing – she continued, thinking of her own grandson, Josef.

Back in her adored leafy cottage, he died ten thousand deaths.  She fed him tea which he could not drink. He would not, could not listen.  So she left him and carried on with the small household chores. It did not occur to her to tell him that he was blaming her, though she knew the accusation was there.. All whites” you should have known… Each day is a test my friend, and man, grow a warrior top knot, that’s the way life is-. After two hours or more he staggered home. Wordless still.  Sickened and sick. She went to sit in her garden, to rock under the roman revenges.  Witches don’t cry but as deep misery pervaded her soul and mind. She took off her glad rags and sat there till the stars came out, under a black crepy London sky, then she begged of the moon… Why ? god oh why? The moon didn’t answer.  The multitude of different birds nesting in the tall trees crooned love songs from their nests. Later, Isaac laughed a non-laugh.  He’s gone back. Back to the sunshine. How stupid can you be, I ask you, going with a white woman to the fair. Maybe Africa is a kinder place… Maybe….

[rank-sentimentalist]

(full text follows)

Like millions of people around the world, I am processing the heartbreaking news that Stephen ‘tWitch’ Boss died from suicide this week.

Having lost too many people I love to mental health challenges like depression, addiction, trauma and hopelessness – all of whom died from suicide – I’m feeling so heavy with emotion right now. You might be, too.

tWitch was beloved for being Ellen DeGeneres’ co-executive producer, dance partner and DJ on her talk show. He was a part of people’s lives five days a week, for years. He had one of those megawatt smiles that just lit up every room he walked into.

Seeing such a bright light like tWitch go out so suddenly at the age of 40, with three beautiful kids, a huge life, so much talent and adoring fans around the world stirred up so much sadness inside of me – and it might be stirring up a lot inside of you, too.

And it sure is stirring up a lot of thoughts on the internet.

How do you make sense of the news that somebody so positive and energetic died from suicide? I keep seeing comments online as people around the world process the “heartbreaking” and “sad” death, and then they write things like:

“But… he had so many resources.”

“How could he do this to his family?”

“But it’s almost the holidays.”

“What a selfish thing to do.”

And my reaction to that: Stop.

When someone dies from brain cancer, you don’t say, “That’s so selfish.”

When someone’s liver fails, you don’t say, “But they had so many resources…”

I think of death from suicide the same way I think about death from brain cancer. If you have a friend or a loved one – as most of us do – who has died from a struggle with addiction, depression, trauma or toxic stress, that mental health challenge fundamentally changed their mind, the way they think and they way they process the world. Similar to the way that brain cancer deteriorates the brain, mental illness impairs the mind and, for some, mental health challenges can even alter the physical structure of the brain.

With cancer, you see people you love deteriorating on the outside. When someone struggles with mental health issues, you often don’t see it. Unfortunately, people – men in particular – feel a lot of shame when they are struggling mentally.

There are a lot of people battling demons in their heads who put on a smile, share fun videos on social media, play on sports teams and are successful at work – all as they struggle to battle their inner demons. Just because you can’t see it inside someone, doesn’t mean the pain they are experiencing isn’t real or overwhelming.

That’s why tWitch’s death doesn’t make sense to so many people.

In public, his struggle was invisible. In the privacy of his mind, it may have been a living hell. That’s why the language we choose when discussing suicide is so important.

It really upsets me when I see people that write arrogant things like, “Well, I struggled. I was in a dark place and I asked for help. Why didn’t he?” Or, “How could he do this to his wife and kids?”

To that I say: You didn’t need to know the man to see that he dearly loved his wife and his kids. He may have suffered from a pain that you or I cannot relate to or understand.

There’s a big difference between wanting to end your pain and wanting to end your life. But some of those who struggle with mental illness may not be able to see the difference. That’s why suicide isn’t selfish. It’s what happens when someone loses their battle with mental illness.

This is why I feel so adamant that we change the way we think and talk about suicide. Saying this is selfish or the fault of the victim is simply ignorant and tremendously hurtful to family members who loved someone who lost their battle.

So, stop assuming you know what someone else’s life is like, or what it’s like to live in their head.

The fact is, you have no idea what somebody else’s life is like. And neither do I. You have no idea what pain or trauma a huge smile may be hiding.

When someone who seems to have it all dies by suicide, it’s easy to focus on the beautiful life, or the bank account, or the awesome spouse, or the wonderful kids or the big house.

But people don’t live in their houses. They live in their heads.

So today, I want to emphasize something that was said at the end of each episode of the Ellen DeGeneres Show:

Be kind.

Today, just be kind. Choose kind words and kind actions. You never know what another person is going through.

Start assuming that everybody is silently battling something. Because everyone is. So, it’s on all of us to be kind to one another.

And, if you notice that tWitch’s death is making you think about people that you’ve lost, which is happening to me, that’s completely normal.

Don’t fight the grief. It’s just all the love you didn’t get to express while they were here. Allow yourself to feel it. Remember the person and the things that you miss and love about them. And remember to be kind to be kind to yourself, too. You deserve it.

Finally, if you are in pain right now, please remember this: There’s a difference between wanting to end the pain you feel and wanting to end your life. You can end the pain with support and by taking small steps forward every single day. It can and it will get better. Pick up the phone. Trained volunteers are standing by to help you. Make that call for help if you need it.

If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts, call or text 988, the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.

[arc-misadventures]

Jaune Got Isekai’d

Jaune burst through the door, weapon held at the ready as he levelled it towards the Demon Queen who sat high upon her throne.

Jaune: Defend yourself foul, Demon Queen! For I am, Jaune Arc! The summoned hero brought to this world a year ago to save it from your vile villainy! So I may return home to my family, and loved ones! Now, prepare for the coming reconning!

: Return to your loved ones…? How funny… For that is exactly why I seek to destroy this world, and avenge my beloved!

She rose frm the throne before, Jaune, allowing him to her in all her radiance, as she prepared to duel to the death, the summoned hero.

: I am the Demon Queen, Griselda! I have waged a bloody war to avenge the death of my beloved! And, none shall stop for avenging his departed soul! Prepare do die foolish hero! In the Name of my beloved, Ivan Caliphate! Perish you foolish hero!!!

Jaune: …

Jaune: I’m sorry, what did you say his name was?

Griselda: Ivan, Ivan Caliphate.

Jaune: …

Jaune: Did this guy have a more athletic build, and was about say… 6ft tall?

Griselda: Yes, he did… My dearly beloved, oh I miss you so…

Jaune: Okay… Umm… Did he have a chiseled jaw, sharp nose, hawkish deep green eyes, with black hair. And most importantly, did he have a sort of roguish smile that for some inexplicable reason seemed to make his teeth sparkle, on command…?

Griselda: Y-Yes he did? Wait… do you know him…? Does he live, is he well?! Tell me! I beg of thee, tell me!

Jaune: One l-last question… W-When did you meet him…?

Griselda: I thought I had lost him five years ago… But, with your news I may finally be able to reunite with my beloved!

Jaune: (Sharp inhale!) oh fuck…

Griselda: What is wrong…? Did something happen to him…?

Jaune: Well… Uhh… I’m not really sure how to…?!

Griselda: Grrrr!!! Quit stalling for time, and tell me foolish boy!!!

Jaune: I met him, and his wife about four months ago, at his son’s birthday party…

Griselda: W-Wait…? He’s married?! And, he has a son?!

Jaune: Technically he has two sons, and two daughters, of which the oldest of whom is eight years old…

Grisleda: He was married, and with kids when I met him?! A married man cheated on me?! ME?!

Jaune: Technically, he cheated on his wife, with you. B-But, that’s just a semantic argument; A cheater is a cheater, right…?

Griselda: Wait?! Did he fake his death… J-Just because the little bastard didn’t want to dump me in person?! Face-to-face?!

Jaune: Yes…?

Griselda: That gutless coward! He shall pay! He shall pay for his insolence towards me, The Demon Queen! That whoring bastard shall pay!!! Or, the world shall pay!!!

HE WILL PAYYYY!!!!!

The Demon Queen rose up, dark purple flames burst from her raven wings, as the pointed towards the sky, a huge plume of fire surrounded her body as ig shot into the sky blasting a whole straight through her castle lightening the night in its purplish hues.

Jaune: …

Jaune: Oh fuck…

~~~

Jaune: So after… that happened… Griselda, attacked, Ivan’s home, told the whole story to his wife, who filed for a divorce then on the spot! Of which after the king heard what his nephew had done, and he was furious with him. So he agreed to the annulment, so Ivan, was disowned, disinherited, and cast out from practically everything! And, then a peace summit was held, and a white peace was made, where the only thing, Griselda wanted was, Ivan, which the Kingdom agreed to, so she took him, and created a special demon to torment the cheating bastard for all of eternity. And, after that, there was this party…I dra k too much wine, I honestly have no idea what happened… Then the Demon Queen kindly sent me back Here, and you guys showed up, and asked me if I have been up to anything. And, that’s it.

Pyrrha: …?!

Ren: …?!

Nora: That sounds so awesome!!! Did you get me anything, did you, did you?!

Jaune: I’m sorry, Nora, I tried, but I couldn’t bring anything back with me.

Nora: Naww… I never get anything fun…

Jaune: Maybe next time.

Pyrrha: J-Jaune?

Jaune: Yes?

Pyrrha: W-We’ve been gone for an hour…?

Jaune: Yeah, so?

Ren: You said you were there for over a year?!

Jaune: Yeah, time flows differently here, and there. But, I’m still here! So, what did you three do, it’s been so long since we last spoke.

Pyrrha: Jaune, again, we’ve been gone for an hour.

Jaune: True, however, I haven’t see you in over a year, so you can forgive me for forgetting what ever it was you were doing.

Nora: We we’re getting chocolate!

Jaune: Ohh~! Did you get me anything?

Ren: Jaune?! You haven’t gone anywhere! You’ve been here the whole time!

Jaune: Pfft! Says you…

Ren: Jaune?! There is no way you left the building, the travker on your scroll says you’ve been here the whole time!

Jaune: Oh that’s just because I forgot to take my scroll with me. I left it in Its charger on my desk, see?

Pyrrha: Okay… I think we should take you to the doctor, you need a check up.

Jaune: I’m fine you guys! Perfectly fine!

Ren: Jaune, you’re talking about how you went to this magical fantasy land for over the space of a year, while we went to get some chocolate. Nothing like that could have possibly happened in the space of an hour.

Jaune: Gods! You’re such a kill joy, Ren! Is he always like this, Nora?

Nora: Yes, he is. I think its that green sludge that he likes to drink, it does something to his mind. Something sinister, and dark…

Jaune: We should get that checked out.

Ren: Grr! Jaune! There is no way anything happened to you, while we were gone!

Jaune: Says you, you buzz kill…

Nora: yeah, buzz kill!

Ren: Hey!

Pyrrha: But, this is all a little far fetched don’t you guys think? I mean this couldn’t possibly have hap…?!!

(Bathroom door opens)

Griselda: Okay, just finished up in there. I have to learn how the pumping works, it is just…?! Oh? Hello!

Jaune: Pixy, You’re here, sit down please.

Nora: Pixy?!

Jaune: It’s just a… It’s just a nickname…

Griselda: Oh… I thought it was my pet name~?

Nora: Nice!

Jaune: So… These are my friend I was talking about, Pyrrha, Ren, and Nora. Guys, this is, Pi… Griselda, The Demon Queen.

Griselda: Hello, everyone! Jaune, has told me so much about all of, I’m so pleased to finally meet you!

Nora: Wow! Nice wings!

Griselda: Oh, why thank you~!

Nora: So, what’s the, Queen of the Demons doing in a dump like this?

Griselda: Oh, I just need a vacation. After all the problems with my ex… Haa… I needed a break from it all, and Jaune so kindly offered that I could stay with him for a spell~!

Jaune: It was just an offer, I didn’t think you’d actually take it…

Griselda: Well, it was a nice offer, besides I could spend some time with my new… Lover~!

Pyrrha: L-Lover…?

Jaune: W-What?! Since when?!

Griselda: Since you beded me on the day of your departure~! Twas quite unexpected night, but I was more then willing to accept your blade into my sheath~!

Jaune: W-W-What?!

Nora: Whoo! You got some Fearless-Leader, great job!!!

(Thud)

Nora: And… Pyrrha fainted… oh boy…

Jaune: J-Just one moment, Pixy!

Griselda: Take your time, Love~!

Jaune: So umm… Do you now believe me that I was isekai’d now, Ren? Does this look like a lie to you?! DOES IT?!

Ren: …

Jaune: Ren…? Hello, Remnant to, Ren?

Ren: …

Jaune: Uhh… Nora…?

Nora: …

Nora: He’s dead, Jaune.

Jaune: …

Jaune: Those damn smoothies!!! I knew they were deadly!

Nora: I can’t even gloat about it…

Jaune: So why didn’t you take the shortcut like I told you?

Nora: They wouldn’t let me!

Jaune: Those fools! Will they never learn?!

Nora: Probably not.

Jaune: Curses upon their ancestors!

Nora: Curses!

Griselda: I can do that if you want?

Nora: REALLY?!

Jaune: Oh no…

///

I know its Mercy from, Overwatch, I just like that picture/Skin.

[mrs-march-ahs]

how the evans would act when they have a crush on u ^^

How The Evans Act When They Have A Crush On You & How They React When You Tell Them You Like Them Too

Award for the longest title goes tooooo... me!

JAMES SUCKS BUT I MAKE UP FOR IT BY DOING BOTH KYLE’S AND A DETAILED KIT

Two other requests-

Could I please request how the Evans would react to their best friend (reader) admitting they're in love with them? 

Heyo! I’m not sure how this would go but how would the Evan’s react to a nervous/insecure reader confessing to them?

-I hope this is satisfactory, even though I don’t think it’s what you two wanted<3

Enjoy! :)

--

Tate

-Would always just be interested in you

-Wanting to help you, watch you, talk to you, just constantly be around you

-But he’d also be insecure whether he was annoying you, so occasionally he would make himself invisible and just watch you

-Whatever hobbies you had, he’d love to watch you do them, paint, draw, write, play games

-If you played any instrument he would love to lay on your bed and listen to you, no matter how good or bad you were

-He would leave little sweet messages on the chalkboard and leave little post-it notes for you to find

-They would have fun little facts about birds or other trivial stuff but you would find them cute

-The occasional fact about something romantic, like ‘Every time you kiss somebody, your heart beat increases by 10-15 beats per minute’

-He might go a little far and leave a message like ‘Your dress looked pretty’, which you would find creepy since you didn’t know Tate was a ghost

Kit

-He thought of ways to tell you how he felt but because it seemed like your family was gonna live in the murder house for a while, cause you were all settling in well, he didn’t want to risk losing his friendship with you, since you were the only ghost with whom he really got along

-You walked down to the basement and said his name in a sing song voice, “Tateeeee”, “Come out come out wherever you are!”

-He showed up and you asked him if he wanted to go out on a real date

-He was obviously nervous, because you didn’t know yet that he was a ghost, but when he hesitated and you looked upset, he said yes right away

-You ran up and hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, making him blush and laugh, and whilst you were at school, he got some things ready and got candles and a table cover so make your kitchen look like a restaurant

-He ordered McDonalds delivery and got your chicken nuggets under a serving platter for effect

- “We are dining on, nuggets of the chicken”

-Although you were a little disappointed and wanted to go out on a real date with him, you found his effort cute

-He definitely played footsie with you under the table the whole date

-Definitely walked you to your room

- “Well… this is me…”

- “Just wanted to make sure you got home safe”

-Kissed you

oh my god I got so carried away

-You would first meet Kit when you first come and move to Massachusetts

-One day you want to venture out and get an taxi to go to town, only a few minutes later to realise you don’t have your wallet

-You awkwardly tell the driver that if takes you back home quickly, you can get money and you will pay him right away

-But since Boston men aren’t usually so sweet, he just kicks you out, leaving you to wander the motorway alone late at night, far away from your home and hoping to quickly find somewhere to go

-Eventually you stumble upon a gas station, and as you walk up, a hand appearing on your shoulder makes you automatically turn around and push whoever touched you to the ground

-The man in blue uniform gets up slowly with his hands up defensively, “Hey hey, didn’t mean to startle ya, miss”

-You apologise, feeling stupid for this kind of encounter, but he doesn’t seem to mind as much as you’d think

- “It’s always nice to see a woman able to protect herself”, he smiles

-He offers to drive you home, and you thank him dearly, explaining to him that you don’t have a car yet, having only just moved here

-He offers to take you to buy one, knowing an awful lot about cars, and to convince you further, tells you that any man working in a car salon will try to sell a single lady a piece of junk for a high price

-You agree, thinking that the offer is sweet, and he takes you to buy yourself a car, to make the date even more fun, Kit tells you to pretend you’re an old married couple

- “Miss Walka over here needs a car, good Sir”

-At some point while looking at cars, Kit holds your hand and you don’t even notice

-He negotiates a good deal with the salesman, and you get a car together

- “Your husband just got you an awfully good deal, Madam, he’s a man who deserves a good meal and a cold beer if I’ve ever seen one”, the salesman laughs, signing the last of the papers before handing Kit the keys to your car. “Oh, he’ll get more than that”, you say to tease Kit, before smiling at him sweetly. Kit blinks at you, before turning back to the salesman and shaking his hand. As the two of you walk away, Kit looks at you in disbelief, the thought of your dirty words clearly plastered in his mind. “Did ya mean what you said back there?”. He says, as he opens the car door for you. “Whatever do you mean?”, you act stupid. “I was just pretending to be your wife, Mr Walka”

-When he has a crush on you, he gives you sooo many compliments

-Little dirty innuendos

-Would definitely call you and talk to you late night on the phone until one of you fell asleep (house phone if they had them)

-He’s the kind of person to tell you that he got a visit from a cute dog earlier at the gas station and it made him think of you

 Kyle

-Every time you go to get gas from Kit, he gives you only a little amount, so you have a reason to keep coming back

-One time when you go get gas from him, you forget your wallet again, and he teases you about it

-He lets you off and pays for your gas

- “I owe you, Mr Walka”

- “How about a date?”

-You smile at how confident he is, and nod excitedly, having been waiting for him to ask you for a while now

-Kit winks at you and waves as you drive off, completely melted inside about finally getting his girl

-Even though he’s always confident, he’s still a little shy and awkward around you when he sees you in class

-If all of his friends are in a class messing around, throwing stuff, being loud, and you walk it, he tells everybody to shut up because there’s a lady present

- “Hey careful, make sure you don’t throw it at her”

-It’s not until he sees you at a huge party, that he’s confident enough to go up to you

-Even though he’s more than happy to flirt, he’s just not confident enough to do that last step and ask you out somewhere

-He’ll bring you a drink and  talk and flirt with you, and you’ll definitely get the hint

-He slowly lifts his arm up and stretches it over you, trying to do the classic yawn move, hoping you won’t notice or mind. You look over at him and narrow your eyes in fake suspicion.

- “Didn’t you come here with a movie star? Surely you get handsome men bringing you drinks all the time?”, he says, motioning to the drink in your hand.

“You calling yourself handsome?”, you tease him. Kyle laughs a breathy awkward laugh and nods. “Well yeah”

-When you do ask him for a date, he insists that he take the initiative to plan what you two do

-Clearly wanting to make a good first impression, he’d take you somewhere interesting

-Aquarium, in which he’ll make up clearly fake facts about the fish just to make you laugh

-Bowling, just so he can tease you about how much you suck

-Mini golf, so, even though you know how to play, he can wrap his arms around you and help you put

-And if he does take you to the movies, you aren’t spending a dime

-He’ll also wrap his arm around you not-so subtly

Franken Kyle

“Whatcha doin there, hm?”. Kyle leans into your ear and whispers.

“Just in case you get scared, you can cuddle up to me”

“Kyle we’re watching the Lego movie”

Jimmy

-You’re a witch at the academy, and with Kyle’s very slow progress to getting better, both Zoe and Madison are getting slightly tired of having to constantly take care of him

-But you don’t mind, finding his Frankenstein state cute

-Whenever he stumbles into the kitchen by himself you always help him make food

-If he’s ever struggling with anything, he usually comes to you, knowing you’re the most patient out of them all

-Then, one night, all the teens in the academy go to a party, while you lay in bed

-But when the rain starts to get really heavy and the first thunder growls, Kyle rushes into your room, before slowly knowing and peaking his head out, clearly scared

-You let him come and lay with you, rubbing his back to calm him down

-Although no real words are spoken, it’s from that moment that you decide to take on all responsibilities relating to Kyle, the good and the bad

-He’s admired you from afar for a very long time, ever since the first time you joined the circus

-You were incredibly flexible, and always showing off to everyone and practicing on stage

-He would always come and watch you practice, cheering you on more than anybody else

-You called Jimmy ‘my cheerleader’

-It made him blush every time

-Amazon Eve always told him to just ask you for dinner, but the only thing that stopped him was the thought that you wouldn’t want to go out and be seen with a freak like him, especially since your body looked so normal that you didn’t have to hide anything

-Eve and Paul reminded Jimmy that it’s him who’s always the most confident in going out into the real world, and he mustn’t be scared

-When they all plan to go to a diner together, as a protest to being shunned from society, you find his leadership charming and happily go with them

-Even though you all get kicked out, you calm Jimmy down and take care of him when his dad beats him up

James

-You wipe the scars on his face and tell him how brave you think he is

- Trying to gain confidence, you take a deep breath before making the move. “Maybe the two of us should go to that diner”. Jimmy looks up at you, as if he expects you to keep talking. When the nerves hit you all at once, you begin rambling. “You know cause if the two of us go and they’re okay with that then maybe we can start going with the others one by one, and then you know we’ll ease our way back into society and stuff”. You laugh a breathy laugh, but Jimmy says nothing. With every silent second passing, your heart begins to break. But luckily for you, Jimmy speaks up. “Wait, are you asking me out? Like… on a date? To the diner?”. “What if I were?”, you quietly reply. He smiles wide and pulls you closer to him, “I’d love that”.

-James is definitely the least subtle

-Constantly giving you compliments, kisses and gifts

-Opening every door for you and listening very carefully to everything you say

-He doesn’t want you to even think about another man, so he overwhelms you with every way he can show you he likes you

-I can imagine him organising a big ball or event at the hotel just so the two of you can dress up and go together

-He is also the most confident out of them all, although he is a softie around you, he has no trouble asking you anything he wants to you

-He’ll kiss your hand a lot and you’ll eventually get the hint

Kai

- “I would be most delighted if we were to make our relationship more official, and vow fully loyalty to one another”

-You agree and he is over the moon

-Once the two of you are in a relationship, the compliments, kisses and gifts don’t stop

-He will give you your space without him, but when the two of you are in the same room together, he treats your precious time together as if it’s sacred

-He will approximately 43 seconds into your relationship begin planning how he’s gonna kill you

-You can tell Kai likes you when he’s harsher on you than he is on other members of the cult

-He’ll be pissed at you for being a distraction for him

-He’ll definitely tell you when he’s impressed with you, when you murdered somebody or helped him plan something

-Even though he definitely would not want it

-If you proved to be smarter than him in any aspect, he’d be furious

-You’d be sat on his sofa while he’s talking to you about having to kill Sally because she’s getting in the way of him winning city council

- “Samuels looked at where she lives, and it has no back doors, no nothing, it’ll be impossible to get in her house without smashing windows and causing attention”

“Why don’t you get Ally to go to her first? If Meadow convinces her to go to Sally to talk about the cult, then the front door will be open”. Kai looks at you with angry eyebrows. “We’ll sit in the car and wait for a few seconds, she’ll let Ally in, won’t lock the door straight after her, and then let them talk for a minute before we just walk right in”

-His ego won’t let him take suggestions from somebody below him, so even though he wants to be proud of you for being smart, he’s mad

-He’ll sit for hooours trying to think of any other solution he physically can think of, to not go with what you suggested

-Around the cult, he’d treat you like everybody else though

- “Y/N’s idea was brilliant, Ally just walked in and they walked straight to sit down, she didn’t lock the door”

-He’d praise you to encourage you to think of ideas, which he would later be mad that you have

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

-You’d find out how he felt about you during pinky power

-After being suspicious that he may have feelings for you for a while, you realised this is the only way to truly find out how he feels without him trying to manipulate you

-He’d ask you about something deep, and you’d latch on after he finishes a sentence to ask him your question

- “I have a question for you”

“Go ahead”

“How do you feel about me?”

Kai stays silent and continues to look you in the eye, taken aback by the question but not wanting to show it.

“When you’re with me, how do you feel?”

“I think you have real potential, you’re strong-”

“I’m not asking the Divine Ruler, I’m asking Kai, Kai Anderson”

He takes a deep breath before unintentionally breaking eye contact for a few seconds to think. You wait anxiously for the answer, and with every second passing you know what it will be.

“You’re special”, he starts, looking you in the eye again. “You’re valuable to the group, and to me. And I think you’d be a great… mother”. The last catches you off guard, not expecting Kai to be a family man or to think about this with you.

“You… you want me to… have your children?”

“I think our children would be indestructible, strong, powerful, decisive. They would be the seed of the better future”. Although it was a little forward for somebody you’ve never even kissed, you were beyond flattered, knowing how specific Kai is with traits in people.

“Let’s make a baby”, Kai says.

“Whoa whoa”, you laugh and unlink your pinky with his. “We’re not even dating, Kai”

“Why date if children is the ultimate purpose?”

“Then don’t look at is as dating… look at it… as getting to know the mother of your future children”

-Kai would love this and you’d soon end up dating

-And have like 6 kids

@milly-louise  @amourtentiaa  @kitwalker02  @tatestripedsweater  @therenlover  @maria-akira         @tatesimper  @thxc0untessesgl0ve  @mossybank  @ahsxual  @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess  @mrs-march-ahs-biggest-fan  @kitwalkerangel  @kitisagoldenretrieverboy @darlingkitt  @blackbat2020@elaineygrace @kaiandersonskoolaid  @undeadcortez @whiiiiplaaaaash

As usual, if you wanted to be added or taken away, dm me or comment!! I won’t mind! <3

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Jean with their almost full term wife just being extremely uncomfortable, they cry a lot and are just ready for the baby to be out?

Here I go... this has been in my inbox for an embarrassing amount of time but I had this plot in mind for two years and I was waiting for this moment to be animated to be able to write and post this... Listen while you read → the sound of silence by Simon and Garfunkel

Pairing: Jean/ Reader

Tags: hurt/comfort (yes my ✨favorite✨), Jean being a sweetheart

Warnings: pregnancy, grief, mentions of labor and childbirth, crying, Post Sasha's death

The Sound of Silence

The dull, gray shade that was plastered all over the sky was accompanied by an excessive stride of frozen air that was blowing on your hair, sending stray strands of (e/c) flying all over your eyes. A few droplets fell faintly in random places over you and on the freshly trimmed grass that was swaying under your feet. There was a vast variety of tombstones that surrounds you, sternly and calculated lined up tombs extend to a tragic horizon, where your eyes couldn't seem to find an end to. A few leaves were being blown around over them, as well as fresh flower petals, ones you could recognise as you had seen numerous people leave bouquets to their deceased loved ones for all the time you'd stayed here.

Inevitably, the gravestone you were resting your back on was frozen, making your whole body shiver as you lean on it, but you chose not to pay any attention to it; you simply buried your chin between your knees and closed your eyes before letting out a sigh escape you. Your stomach tightened as your chest hitched and you instinctively brought a hand to rub over your swollen tummy. You inspected the bum by running your hand around it, rubbing on a few places near your inverted belly button, pressing slightly over the top as you felt the probing piece of flesh flick in the palm of your hand underneath your dress.

When you felt a kick, a single leg movement push against the insides of your stomach, though, you took away your hand, slamming it onto the ground as you tried to grip onto the moist soil right next to you. It was kind of a peculiar feeling and even now, nine months in you were still fully uncomfortable with it. Being pregnant wasn't something you've enjoyed; rather was more like a hazard to your very health and was reason you were relieved of your soldier duties. And you secretly cursed Jean and yourself a bit for allowing this to happen.

Who on their right mind would enjoy swollen feet and back pains, who would enjoy the crazy mood swings and the fatigue that causes you to be unable of even taking a stroll around the town? Who would ever want to feel suffoccated by how big their pregnancy belly had turned? Not you. Definitely not you, but according to your mother they were supposed to be something you'd enjoy later on.

Now, you weren't so sure.

And you were so overdue yet you weren't even sure you could even take care of your child in the mental state you were in.

Sighing hard after taking a deep inhale you dug your frail fingernails into the soil, feeling the ominous tears that the angry skies were begining to pour. Your eyes lingered on the shapeless coulds, focusing onto the dull, stripped light that could barely peak from underneath them. You felt the faint river of a tear run down your cheek at the sight and the skies responded right back at you with a loud thunderclap. It almost felt as if the skies were mourning Sasha just like you. Maybe, if you tried to convince yourself, you'd believe that it was your childhood friend that cried with you due to your departure.

Feeling your body go stiff and your face go numb from the fresh needles of the cold air that was blowing on you your scrunched your nose upwards, hoping for the action to stimulate even the tiniest blood flow to the numb tip. It didn't, and the tingling sensation of a sneeze madxhed it's way to your blood vessels, scratching methodically at all the right pressure points to force it's release. Finally and with a loud blow you felt your chest go in shock as you sneezed, your whole body joltimg up on your very spot.

Still you sniffled the little drops of moisture with the inside of your elbow, you couldn't find it in you to move or get up, you couldn't even try to find an ounce of physical strength inside your body. Sashas tombstone provided some strong comfort for you though, acting as your only comforter against the cold.

"This can't be any good for you."

A soft, large and so very warm hand came to rest upon your shoulder; delicate fingers gave you a squeeze as a bulky thumb rubbed a few circles to the end of your collarbone. You didn't even have time turn your head to see who it was, frankly because you knew.

His scent, his warmth, his touch, his whole aura practially screamed his name.

"Jean?"

"It's going to rain really hard you know." He said, planting a kiss to your temple. "wanna go back?"

"No." You sniffled dangerously.

"Okay then, I-" Jean paused before squating to your level "I guess were staying here for a bit."

"Thank you."

The soft ruffle that you felt on your hair was Jeans reply and it tousled your hair slightly, allowing the shy blond to catch a tiny sniff of your sweet scent to which he sncrunched his nose slightly and proceeded to place a kiss at the top of your hair line. Then, once again, he placed another kiss on your temple.

Fidgeting with your hand while trying to undig it out of the soil, you closed your eyes at the feeling, expecting the tiniest bits of adoration to enter your body through that kiss. Jean rested his head on your shoulder from his squatting position and you smiled a tiny bit and only in the blink of an eye, exhaling a cold huff of air to his face. A sharp pain in your chest was starting to spread, pushing back away over everything else that lay inside your body, strangling the insides of your throat.

"I miss her already."

You felt your breath chock you from the insides of your throat dangerously; a tight, looking knot was finally making its binds tighter and even more evident to the depths of your stomach as it spread to your throat.

"Me too"

"And God she was more that me excited for our baby."

As you shut your eyes, in frail attempt to mute the memories of Sasha that were coming back to your vision, a single tear rolled from the corner of your eye. With a shaking hand you managed to grip onto the side of Jean's coat; the chachi makò cotton coat rubbed against your thum as if protesting for the dirt that was being wiped on it, yet Jean didn't seem to care.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here for so long when you're dysphoric about pregnancy."

"Its-its fine" You sniffled, a hitched sigh escaping the depths of your throat.

"Mmm baby, it's not, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't bring Sasha back with me too she'd talk to me everyday about betting on how we're going to have twins."

As another thunderclap roared in the background, Jean found it fitting to move his aching legs and shift his position to the ground. As he took a turn, he placed another kiss just next to your eye while he took your hand in between his. With a soft thud he came to rest his body next to yours and you made a slight move to allow him a little more space before his back finally came to rest to the small tomb right behind you. A hand came to wrap around your shoulders lovingly silently begging you to push your head down to your lover's shoulder to which you eagerly complied.

"I kinda think she was right, I'm too huge, I can't even breathe properly these days." Another tiny peck was placed to the top of your head as you spoke. "To be honest," You sniffled "whatever it is I want it to be out."

"I know."

"And I don't want to accept that Sasha died, I grew up with her Jean."

"I know baby." He said and placed a new kiss to your head.

"And for the love of any fucking intelligent titan I'm so swollen and I'm angry and all that could make me happy right now would be you Connie and Sasha teasing me about it."

Jean felt your back pulp on him like a jolting lighting has just fell from the sky. He heard the hard sniffle of your nose and heard the painful sob that was stuck to the back of your throat as your sentence came to an end. This, with a burning desire to let his own heart go loose came the feeling of his own eyes stinging, his own chest jolting, his fingertips gripping onto the side of your head as if they were hanging onto you for dear life.

"All I get though is this stupid tomb!" You cried and threw a clenched first backwards towards the tomb, hitting it with all your potential might as you chocked on your next words. "This stupid fucking reminder that my best friend is dead."

It was so dearly painful. Your heart hammered in your chest in protest to your refusal to deny Sasha's death, your stomach churned in a coiling fire and the big swelling bumb under your right hand rioted against your mourning. But you failed to give a care. Your best friend in the whole world was dead.

You could still remember when you decided to join the military together, you still remembered your very first friends, you still remembered how she and Connie were the ones to help you and Jean get together. You remembered the way you'd play when you were kids and how you'd spend days sewing clothes just to play like you were paying a visit to Sina in your most elegant attire. You remembered watching her fall in love with food and with whom you had thought could be the man of her life.

You remembered every single miniscule moment of your life spent with Sasha and it crushed you.

Nevertheless when Jean's long fingers came to sway over the roots of your hair and his nose nuzzled to the top of your hairline, his lips rubbing onto your soft hair, ready to press another kiss at any given time, your face softned, taking away the chocked sob you were about to let out with it. You brought your hand to your face, pulling your sleeve to cover it up and put it to your nose to wipe the runny goo off of it.

"I know, shh" The ashy blond rubbed his chin to the side of your scalp, giving you the tiniest bit of affection from it before bringing his nose back to your head to rub it on the spot again.

Then, the way that you sighed was almost silent.

Save for the whiny hiccup that escaped you.

"Please don't cry so much, I'm going to panic."

A tiny laughter inevitably escaped you. You remembered that phrase very well. When you had caught Jean crying after Marco's memorial he had came running into your arms, sobbing like a madman and you had wispered the same words while rubbing your palms soothingly over his back. That was the same night that you decided to follow him into joining the scouts, the first night of an endless personal misery.

"It's just-" You cried "I just can't, we've lost so many people and it hurts Jean. I should have been there."

"Shh no, don't think like that."

Jean was holding back tears for you. It was evident in the way that he was shaking and jolting his head from time to time. His palm was flexed in a fist, tightly resting over your shoulder as it gripped a fold in your cloack. You only breathed harder at the realisation, feeling your chest sink in a tremendous amount of pain that left you hollow. You felt another kick coming from the inside of your stomach to which you shut your eyes to, too afraid to see the outline of a hand or a foot appear under the thin linen clothe of your dress. And just like before, another heart wrenching sob escaped you.

"I didn't want to say goodbye." Jean said quietly, his voice coming as a breath that barely brushed your ear. "You didn't even get to say goodbye and that's bad of me to say, but I didnt want to see what I saw. I didn't want to say goodbye. I don't want you to suffer. I don't want to suffer either."

"Jean.."

The sniffling of your nostrils wasn't nowhere near coming to an halt, thus the back of your sleeve was the ideal solution to your distress; had you had any more little power in your body you would reach for the handkerchief in your shoulder bad. But that couldn't be the case. Not until you could feel your feet.

"(Y/n), baby... I'm sorry. I promise I won't let anything happen to you and our baby. Even if it means I have to sacrifice my life for you to be safe."

A gasp came out of your mouth quicker than you had anticipated. The hiccup that escaped you was accompanied by another burning hot tear that run down your eye, your whole spine giving in to the wave of fear that shook you, resulting in your head jolting in shock. Your hand shot to his, gripping it with force to bring it over your stomach, your fingers clinging onto his while pressing hard in between his knuckles.

"Don't say that shit, you're not dying Jean, get that thought out of your idiotic head," You inhaled through hitches "I'm going to die a pitiful death if you leave me."

"Please don't do that." Jean clenched his teeth.

"Then don't die too you idiot."

Another rush of a few raindrops started pouring, this time even more quickly that before. The grass under your feet swayed, each spiky peak bending and bouncing as the weight of the rain hit the ground. Big blotches of water were now forming on your attire, waiting your skin as they came to connect with each other, darkening the brown color of the linen skirt you were wearing. Jean wrapped his hand tighter around you, rubbing his cheek to the top of your head again with mellow force, as if trying to assure you it would be okay for you to stay there for only just a moment more.

And you begged to listen to his silent proposition.

Letting his hand rest loosely over your swollen stomach, you took a deep breath, allowing your self to flex your toes inside your shoes. Your indstep steamed as the little strap squished you so hard that you tried your best to convince yourself you weren't going to deal with a blood clot. You hated that you had come to despise your favorite pair of shoes. All you ever wished for was that then would just fit you like normal. Still, even to that thought, the little being inside you took half a leaping turn, giving another kick to the top of your stomach.

Had Sasha been here she would have told you something to help you get your mind off of it. She would have teased Jean for not being able to keep it in his pants and you would have laughed, feeling the tentuon easing off.

Still, the kick, that most women would have found one of joy, only turned your insides like clothes swept by a tide.

"I want to throw up." You announced, half looking at Jean

"Because of the kick? Or the thought of it?"

"Maybe-maybe both."

It was then that another kiss was planted in your forehead. The raw sound of lips smacking filled the air against the drenching water of the rain, giving a little antsy essence to the gesture. Jean rubbed his closed mouth against your skin with his eyes closed in his best effort to help you calm down.

"Now now," He whispered "It wouldn't be the best thing to throw up in the cemetery, would it?"

With closed eyes, you pouted and shook your head twice in response.

"Okay then, I have a proposal for you."

"What?"

"Want to go visit Marco's grave? And then get you somewhere warm? And changed?"

Your pout intensified amd you fixated your gaze at the ground with furrowed brows. The nauseating feeling in your stomach was coiling begging to obertske you, but there was something so warm about Jean's sweet tone that fought it violently, so much that you could even feel your face loosen up as you melted under his touch.

"Yes, I'd like that."

"Okay then."

You shivered slightly as Jean took his arm off of you and dug it to the ground, giving himself a little prompt as he bend his knees closer to his body before stretching them to get up. Next, he leaned towards you, extending a long arm to your side, his thick, enormous palm stretching as it signaled you to place yours in it. Lifting a hand to his direction faintly you manages to place your palm into his and soon you managed to feel his fingers tighten a grip over your knuckles.

Still though, you couldn't find it in you to get up.

You stared at Jean with brows that screamed in apology, lifted skin littered with regretful lines. You had been feeling heavy lately. Everyone knew that, everyone who laid eyes on you questioned hoe you even managed to walk normally. But today you had struggled to get out of bed so much that you had even considered asking to be carried to Sasha's grave, knowing full well that you were too heavy for this to be a reality.

"You can do it."

"Give me a second, I can feel my lower stomach pulsating."

Jean eyed you with concern, his thumb quick to rub a circle over the knuckle of your pointer finger. You only gave him a mixed look next, squeezimg him just a little as you started pulling his hand. You had to get up. You couldn't stay in the rain until someone picked you up bridal style. Thus, you gave a little push. Just a teeny, tiny push to prompt yourself up and meet Jean halfway.

"Oh, oh crap."

In that moment you couldn't even think of a worse mistake that you had made in your nineteen years of life.

"What?"

You didn't want to believe it. No. It couldn't be happening now.

"Uhm, my water just broke."

"WHAT?"

"There's fluid leaking down my thigh and I'm pretty sure I didn't just pee myself. I wouldn't do that in a graveyard."

In between Jean's petrified expression and the trembling pain in your core, you somehow found yourself be eerily non panicked about the happening. As much as you wanted to scream from the pain, as much as you felt like your feet where going to give out, you were nowhere near turning pale yellow like Jean.

"Was this supposed to happen so suddenly?" Jean breathed heavily.

"Well" You cursed under your breath as you clutched over your stomach "I have been overdue for some days now and, ah fuck this is painful-"

"I'm really, really freaking out right now. What. Do. We. Do?"

"Calm down, let's go to Marco's grave."

"What? No!? Your waters literally broke. They broke, oh my god I'm going to be an actual father." Jean let out a chocked scream while running his other hand through his hair and gripping despairately on the roots.

"Jean, okay I migh-" A sharp pain went through your core "I still have a lot of time until my contraction is big enough for the baby to come out."

"This can't be safe."

"I'm telling you!"

Jean took a deep breath. His chest rose and fell, his shaking fingers steadied just a tiny bit, his trembling feet suddenly felt just a little more steady. This wasn't a time to panic, of course, he knew that far. The look you were giving him, even though it was pained, screamed that he could trust you; despite either of you having absolutely no idea about childbirth, he knew that having an anxiety attack this early into labor would only cause a worse experience for you.

Plus, he was the one who suggested they you'd visit Marco, and he wasn't about to say no to you at your current situation. With a hand bend over his hip, he prompted your own to snail through it for support. At least if you were going to do this, he'd basically walk you there. Pressing his lips together, Jean gave you an longing look, letting a deepnsigh escape the depths of his chest.

Eagerly you nodded at him, linking your arm with his. You softly dug your button lip under your upper flesh, trying your best not to bite into it as another rush of pain washed through you. Having contractions this frequent only meant that you had to rush and you knew that better than anyone else, but there was this little voice in the back of your brain that begged you to not take this moment away from Jean. With a final little stroke at Sasha's tomb and a tear running down your wet, stinging eyes before you matched away and to the direction of Marco's grave, you let yourself think you could hear her say a tiny good luck to you.

"Okay, let's go see Marco alright?" Jean said with a hint of glimmer in his eyes "For five minutes."

"Okay and then I'm going to go and have your child."

"Quite literally."

Taglist: @sasageyowrites @ackermans-freedom-inc @melancholicmonologue @ladyofpandemonium @levisbrat25 @callmepromise @hawkssnugget @berrijam @thethyri @nobody-knows-anymore @lzrers

[night-filled-mountain]

Captivity and Escape in Critical Role

So this post has been sitting in my drafts for about half a year. It’s about a persistent theme I noticed throughout campaign 2, which I’m sure others have noticed and written about before, but parallels and recurring themes have always been my Thing, and I couldn’t let it go. And with last week’s episode, and the campaign finale airing tonight, and the dominance of this theme being more glaringly obvious than ever, I thought I’d just give myself a treat and finish up a giant meta post. For old times’ sake.

So, just for the heck of it, here’s an exhaustive exploration of a single through-line of campaign 2 since the very beginning: captivity, and escaping or being freed from it.

Let’s start by taking a quick look at everyone’s backstories, the things that happened to them before the campaign even started, and how they were ultimately resolved. 

FJORD: Entered unknowingly and unwillingly into a pact with Uk’otoa, which bound him to perform services he never agreed to in exchange for powers he never asked for. Fjord did not know how he got into this pact or how to get out of it. He makes his escape when he pitches his sword into a lava river and pledges himself to the Wildmother.

JESTER: Spent the majority of her life “locked in her room” (or at least hidden from sight) until the consequences of one of her pranks forcibly liberated her into the wider world. While Jester loves her mother dearly and thinks of her long “captivity” as being for her own protection, its negative effects on her--loneliness, insecurity, a lack of worldly experience and social awareness--were still apparent, and she spends much of the campaign working through them.

BEAU: Her parents had her kidnapped by monks. It could be argued that even before the kidnapping, she was a prisoner to her father’s “over-protective” tendencies and her parents’ expectations when it came to her career, behavior, gender role, etc. But most significantly, she was very much kidnapped by monks, and made her escape from the Cobalt Soul shortly before we met her.

CALEB: Where to start? First he suffered coercion and abuse at the hands of Trent (a form of captivity); then he was made to torture and execute prisoners; then he spent eleven years literally imprisoned in an asylum, and had to kill and steal in order to escape; and four and a half years later, he met Nott when they were both thrown in jail (and had to engineer their own escape once again). Caleb’s ordeals ultimately made him a prisoner of his own guilt and fear, and escaping that prison has been the heart of his storyline.

VETH/NOTT: Besides the aforementioned stint in jail, the catalyst for her entire adventuring career was being captured by goblins along with her family--and then, after engineering the escape of her husband and son, being imprisoned in the wrong body (and subsequently enslaved!). The desire to escape from this second imprisonment was her driving motivation through much of the campaign. With Caleb’s help (and Essek’s, and Jester’s), she ultimately succeeds.

MOLLY: His first memory was of clawing his way out of a grave, which is just about as extreme a form of captivity and escape as you can get. More subtly, he was also a prisoner to the expectations placed on his body--to the life that body once lived, which he could not remember and refused to claim. Arguably (and tragically), his escape from this particular prison is his own death...until Cree resurrects Lucien, Mollymauk fragment and all. Then he presumably becomes a prisoner much like Yasha was, subsumed body and soul by a mind and a will that are not his own. Until last week.

... (incoherent sobbing)

Until last week.

YASHA: She was a prisoner to her clan’s laws and expectations. Her brief attempt to escape this prison through a forbidden marriage ended tragically, and then she was forced to make a second, literal escape (fleeing into the desert)--only to be (presumably) possessed by Obann, imprisoned inside her own mind, and forced to do his bidding until the Storm Lord liberated her once again.

CADUCEUS: When the gang first meet him, he’s literally a prisoner of his own fear (and/or inertia)--though his whole family has left the Blooming Grove, he’s been too afraid or hesitant to brave the corruption of the Savalirwood without companionship, and spent years isolated in the family temple as a result. The Mighty Nein (or rather, Caleb, Nott, Beau, Keg, and Nila) initiate his escape.

***

And that’s just the backstories! Now let’s take a look at each of the places the Mighty Nein have visited since they came together, and the story arcs therein.

***

TROSTENWALD - CARNIVAL ARC: This arc’s entire goal is to free the (future) Mighty Nein and the other carnies from jail or house arrest. (Much later, the M9 come back to pay Gustav’s debt and liberate him as well.) And remember that Beau is especially sympathetic to Toya’s predicament because she, too, was once a young girl held somewhere against her will.

ALFIELD - GNOLL ARC: This arc’s entire goal is to free the citizens of Alfield who have been kidnapped by gnolls to feed to their manticore leader (and to kill off the gnolls and manticore to keep it from happening again).

ZADASH: The Mighty Nein’s first undertaking in Zadash is to kill off the giant spiders in the sewer. In the process, they free a halfling imprisoned in a spiderweb, which leads them to the Gentleman and all his future quests.

Aside from that, their biggest job in Zadash this time around is the High Richter heist--which, yes, is a mercenary/political job that goes terribly wrong, but why does it go terribly wrong? Because Ulog, the M9′s NPC ally at the time, is so furious over his wife being wrongfully imprisoned by the High Richter that he impulsively blows up both her and himself. And arguably the most poignant moment in the heist’s aftermath is Caleb speaking to the next High Richter, Dolan, and ensuring that Ulog’s wife will be freed.

Also, let’s not forget the drow the M9 meet in the sewer. The one they capture, interrogate, and ultimately...let go. Yes, he’s killed shortly afterward and his beacon falls into their hands, but I think it’s very important to remember that the decision they make, when holding a captive terrorist from an “enemy” nation, is to return his stolen artifact to him and let him walk away free.

LABENDA SWAMP/BERLEBEN: The most memorable events during this interlude are: (1.) The M9 literally freeing Kiri from the swamp, where she is stuck in the mud and at the mercy of crocodiles, and (2.) Bowlgate, a.k.a. Caleb and Beau’s tense confrontation over what to do with Calianna, which is once again fueled on Beau’s side by her sympathy for a young woman held against her will. (Caleb proposes that Cali spend the night with the M9, which she did not intend, so they can use spells to determine her truthfulness the next day.)

HUPPERDOOK: This one’s obvious: The M9 fight a deadly automaton to free two gnomes from prison and reunite them with their children (largely to prevent said children from being taken to an orphanage against their will).

GLORY RUN ROAD/SHADYCREEK RUN - IRON SHEPHERDS ARC: ...Even more obvious. The sole goal of the remaining M9 members (and Nila) throughout this arc is to free their friends from slavery. They end up slaughtering all the slavers and freeing several other captives as well.

LUSIDIAN OCEAN - PIRATE ARC: Here’s where things get really interesting. Because this whole arc is also about captivity and freedom, isn’t it?

It’s about whether or not to free a little old captive named Uk’otoa!

I haven’t given nearly enough thought to how this arc fits in with all the others thematically, considering its central lesson is that freeing this particular captive would be a very bad thing. I do think it’s significant that:

(1.) The beginning of this arc, which leaves the whole party feeling so bad and icky, involves them quite inadvertently taking a captive of their own--and one whom they don’t treat very well. (And still don’t, for that matter...poor Marius.)

(2.) Soon after that incident, the M9 are themselves effectively taken captive by Avantika and her crew. This situation doesn’t last nearly as long as many audience members (and quite possibly Matt, and quite possibly the players themselves!) thought it would, because they panic on Darktow, go all Wall of Fire, and free themselves in a huge, climactic, desperate battle. The Mighty Nein do not take well to captivity.

Anyhow, they follow all this up with...

FELDERWIN/XHORHAS - YEZA ARC: ...another very straightforward quest to free a captive. Not only is this arc all about rescuing Yeza from a Xhorhasian dungeon, but after Caleb returns the beacon, after the Bright Queen of Xhorhas offers the Mighty Nein anything they want...all they ask her for is to let them go.

BAZZOXAN & BEYOND - OBANN ARC: ...By now, you know where I’m going with this, right? The entire arc is about freeing Yasha from Obann, who has her imprisoned inside her own body, inside her own mind. There’s a reason That Moment in the cathedral hit so hard, right? “And as you close your eyes, you see yourself breaking the shackles. You see the influence no longer holding any sway over your soul. There's nothing but the storm, vengeance, and hope.”

(Bonus: In the middle of the above arc, we get the HAPPY FUN BALL - RESCUING YUSSA ARC, which, once again, is devoted to freeing a captive.)

KAMORDAH/CYRIOS MOUNTAINS - ISHARNAI ARC: Aimed entirely at freeing Nott from the body in which she was imprisoned. Beau also has a bit of a freedom arc here: confronting the parents who imprisoned her figuratively and literally, turning her back on them (possibly for good), and then confronting a major source of the expectations and superstitions they shackled her with: Isharnai, who is neutralized by Jester’s cupcake.

THE MENAGERIE - CLAY ARC: Aimed entirely at freeing Caduceus’s family, who are imprisoned in perhaps the most literal way possible, being turned to stone. (The M9 also manage to liberate the Stone family while they’re at it.)

RUMBLECUSP - TRAVELER CON: Two great liberations take place here. First, all the residents of the Village of Vo are freed from Vokodo’s influence, their memories restored, their blind devotion dispelled, able once again to choose the course of their own lives. Second, the followers of the Traveler are freed from the deception he’s imposed on them, the cult he’s roped them into. Thanks to the Moonweaver’s interference, they, too, are free to make informed decisions. And I think we can also safely say that Artagan is freed from them, from the false “god” role he managed to box himself into, and he’s happier for it.

EISELCROSS - SOMNOVEM ARC: ...And this is it, folks. This is why I decided to finish this post today. Because I was openly not feeling the Eiselcross arc as an endgame. The hard slog through the elements just wasn’t doing it for me, or the frequent combat, or the increasingly complex lore, or the traditionally heroic quest to save the world from being swallowed by a monstrous city.

...Until last week. Until Lucien’s defeat. And Molly’s oh-so-improbable resurrection.

When I heard all the voices of the Somnovem whispering “Thank you” as their individual souls were freed from the Lovecraftian hivemind...when I heard Jester sobbing that at least Molly’s soul wasn’t “trapped” inside a monstrous Lucien anymore...when Cad’s Divine Intervention succeeded, and Mollymauk Tealeaf opened his eyes--his two plain old natural eyes--unburdened by Lucien and his Somnovem eyes and all of his dark baggage for the first time--I was finally able to embrace this as the ending.

Because it’s not about saving the world. That’s just a bonus. It’s about saving a friend. Freeing a friend. Freeing captives, wherever they find them. Whether from Crown’s Guard, gnolls, and giant spiders, or from royal dungeons; whether from ruthless enemies or from their own families; whether from eldritch abominations or from the forces that chain their own minds.

In the end, the Mighty Nein--and the people whose lives they touch--belong to no one and nothing that they do not choose to belong to. They belong to themselves, to the people they most sincerely love, to the gods and causes they have chosen freely. And that has always, always been my favorite kind of story.

And I can’t wait for tonight.

[nikosheba]

The Mystery of the Vanishing Elf

First of all, this is not my meta; I’m posting this on behalf of Azh, who wrote it and wanted it on tumblr. (They did say I could take credit for bothering them to write it, and for helping kick around ideas, so I will :D)

Link to the meta on AO3

[all page numbers from the 2007 HarperCollins edition of The Children of Húrin, ISBN 978 0 00 724622 9]

Thanks to starlightwalking for beta-ing!

So I just finished reading the Children of Húrin—which, let’s be honest, I was mostly reading to get the expanded version of the Túrin and Beleg content.  So at first when I started reading the second half — after Beleg’s death — I figured the reason I was less drawn to the text was because, well, Beleg was dead and therefore was less present in the narrative.  After I’d finished the book and put it down, though, I realized it was a little more than that.  Beleg wasn’t just less present. He was completely absent. This is no exaggeration: between the last mention of Beleg’s name in Chapter IX (“The Death of Beleg”) and Túrin’s death, when Gurthang asks to forget the “blood of Beleg my master” there is a single mention of his name, and it’s only a passing description of Gurthang itself as “the Black Sword of Beleg” (pg. 237).

Túrin never says his name again.

What’s going on here?  This is, quite frankly, bizarre. The entire first half of the narrative pivots around the relationship between Túrin and Beleg.  Beleg is the one who finds Túrin when he’s just a child his mother is sending to Thingol in Doriath. Beleg is his friend when’s growing up on Doriath — one of two really mentioned, the other being Nellas — and when Túrin is grown and goes off to be with the marchwardens, “Beleg and Túrin were companions in every peril” (pg 86).  When Thingol and Mablung and everyone else are ready to assume the worst of Túrin, it’s Beleg who shows up with Nellas to tell them what really happened, and it’s notable that this means Beleg didn’t see what happened; he just implicitly trusted Túrin and was the only one to do so.  They care about each other a lot. There is a brief portion of time while Túrin is with the outlaws that they aren’t together (that’s a whole nother post in itself) but Beleg returns to Túrin on Amon Rudh, “in this way, Beleg came back to Túrin, yielding to his love against his wisdom.  Túrin was glad indeed, for he had often regretted his stubbornness; and now the desire of his heart was granted…it seemed to [the outlaws] there had been a tryst between Beleg and their caption.” (pg 139).  These boys are in love. It’s textual.  There’s only one other character Túrin is described as loving in a similar way, and it’s Níniel (Niënor), whom he marries.

In fact, it’s staggering that Níniel is the only other one (pg 218 “Turambar restrained himself no longer, but asked her in marriage”), because there is a very big elephant in the room, and it’s the person whom Níniel is occasionally compared to, Finduilas.  Finduilas is mentioned three times in the text after her death, including twice by Túrin himself in direct quotations:

- “Then Turambar who led the men started back and covered his eyes, and trembled; for it seemed that he saw the wraith of a slain maiden that lay on the grave of Finduilas.” (pg. 214, when Túrin first finds Níniel)

- "But even as he spoke, he wondered, and mused in his mind: 'Or can it be that one so evil and fell shuns the Crossings, even as the Orcs? Haudh-en-Elleth! Does Finduilas lie still between me and my doom?��” (pg. 229, when Túrin is preparing to fight Glaurung for the last time),

- “Therefore he arose and went to the Crossings of Teiglin, and as he passed by Haudh-en-Elleth he cried: 'Bitterly have I paid, O Finduilas! that ever I gave heed to the Dragon. Send me now counsel!’” (pg. 253, after he’s killed Brandir and is desperately trying to deny that Níniel was Niënor, his sister)

This is huge. And it’s huge, because Túrin is not in love with Finduilas. This, again, is explicit, and textual, "In truth Finduilas was torn in mind. For she honoured Gwindor and pitied him, and wished not to add one tear to his suffering; but against her will her love for Turin grew day by day, and she thought of Beren and Luthien. But Turin was not like Beren! He did not scorn her, and was glad in her company; yet she knew that he had no love of the kind she wished. His mind and heart were elsewhere, by rivers in springs long past.” (pg 166, ”Túrin in Nargothrond”). So.  Túrin never falls in love with Finduilas, and, in fact, the reason he doesn’t fall in love with her is that his “mind and heart are elsewhere”.  Hmmmm. I wonder where his heart is?

Okay, so then why is it that Túrin repeatedly refers to Finduilas but not to Beleg?  It’s really obvious based on the quotes I’ve given so far that he was in love with Beleg (and for god’s sake, the man doesn’t talk for a YEAR after Beleg’s death), that he was not in love with Finduilas, and that he was (or thought he was, at least) in love with Níniel, enough to ask her to marry him.  So where the hell is Beleg in his thoughts for all this time when he’s falling for Níniel and thinking back to Finduilas?

For the answer to this, we need to consider the dual nature of Níniel’s relationship to Túrin, and what its source is.

Yes, Túrin loves Níniel, as his wife, but we know he also loved his sister Niënor, as a sister, and part of the reason he kills himself is that he can’t handle that he’s driven his sister to her death via incest (albeit accidental incest).  It’s notable that Túrin loves Finduilas as a sister,

“Then Turin spoke freely to [Finduilas] concerning these things, though he did not name the land of his birth, nor any of his kindred; and on a time he said to her: 'I had a sister, Lalaith, or so I named her; and of her you put me in mind. But Lalaith was a child, a yellow flower in the green grass of spring; and had she lived she would now, maybe, have become dimmed with grief. But you are queenly, and as a golden tree; I would I had a sister so fair.’” (pg. 164, “Túrin in Nargothrond”.)

So these references to Finduilas make a narrative kind of sense — in addition to it mostly happening as Túrin is passing her grave, it’s a textual reminder of a hidden truth: Níniel is not just Túrin’s lover, but also his sister.  He even finds her upon the grave of someone he loved as a sister.  But there’s another truth hidden in the text as well, and it’s related to Níniel’s nature as Túrin’s lover.  Because let’s be real, if he found her on the grave of someone he loved very firmly in a non-romantic way, why does he become romantically interested in her?  She’s his sister—obviously he doesn’t know that, but the narrative is saying it very, very clearly.  Well…there’s a confounding factor.

Here’s how Túrin finds Níniel (pg. 214): “Now it chanced that some of the woodmen of Brethil came by in that hour from a foray against Orcs, hastening over the Crossings of Teiglin to a shelter that was near; and there came a great flash of lightning, so that the Haudh-en-Elleth was lit as with a white flame.”

And here is how Túrin discovers that he has killed Beleg (pg. 155): “But as he stood, finding himself free, and ready to sell his life dearly against imagined foes, there came a great flash of lightning above them, and in its light he looked down on Beleg's face.”

The narrative does draw a parallel between Níniel and Beleg, an extremely strong (if subtle) one.  It uses literally the same phrase to set up the scene: “there came a great flash of lightning”.  So there’s a pretty clear answer as to why Túrin might associate Níniel with romantic love—he doesn’t just find her on his as-it-were sister’s grave, he finds her in a way that hearkens strongly back to the last time he ever saw his lover’s face.

So why doesn’t he think of Beleg now?

Why is the thought of his lover—whose loss cut him so deeply he didn’t speak for a year—so far out of his mind at this moment that his name isn’t even mentioned, even when narratively there’s no way he shouldn’t think of him?

Okay, I’ve drawn this out enough, so let’s cut to the chase: Glaurung. Glaurung, who is responsible for the first hidden truth that I mentioned, the more textually explicit one, that Níniel is Niënor, Túrin’s sister.  He bespells Niënor upon Amon Ethir, “Then he drew her eyes into his, and her will swooned. And it seemed to her that the sun sickened and all became dim about her; and slowly a great darkness drew down on her and in that darkness there was emptiness; she knew nothing, and heard nothing, and remembered nothing,” (pg 209, “The Journey of Morwen and Niënor”) causing her to lose her memories and with her memories her name and therefore any way for Túrin to know who she is.  Glaurung earlier bespells Túrin as well, “Without fear Turin looked in those eyes as he raised up his sword; and straightway he fell under the dreadful spell of the dragon, and was as one turned to stone.” (pg. 178, “the Fall of Nargothrond”)  The first, obvious result of Glaurung’s spell (and the only explicit one) is that he leaves Finduilas and rushes off to try and find Morwen and Niënor.  Now, we’re meant to believe that this is all that the spell does, since in “The Return of Túrin to Dor-Lómin”, pg. 166, the text notes, “And suddenly a black wrath shook him; for his eyes were opened, and the spell of Glaurung loosed its last threads, and he knew the lies with which he had been cheated.”

But I don’t think this makes sense.  I think Tolkien is being poetical here and the “last threads” he’s talking about are specifically the lies about Finduilas.  A number of Túrin’s conversations with Níniel point towards the fact that he’s forgotten something really important and that in that regard the dragon’s spell is still intact.  For example, when Túrin tells Níniel what to call him (pgs 217-218, “Niënor in Brethil”):

“Then she paused as if listening for some echo; but she said: 'And what does that say, or is it just the name for you alone?'

“’It means,' said he, 'Master of the Dark Shadow. For I also, Niniel, had my darkness, in which dear things were lost; but now I have overcome it, I deem.’”

“My darkness” is eerily similar to the repeated motif of Níniel’s darkness, which explicitly refers to the spell cast on her by Glaurung.  

“Behind her lay only an empty darkness” (pg 213, “Niënor in Brethil”); “it seem to her that the darkness that lay behind her was overtaking her again” (pg 214, “Niënor in Brethil”); “it seemed to her that she had found at last something that she had sought in the darkness” (pg. 215, “Niënor in Brethil”); and the two most relevant quotations, “And at that name she looked up, and she shook her head, but said: 'Níniel.' And that was the first word that she spoke after her darkness, and it was her name among the woodmen ever after” (pg 216, ”Niënor in Brethil”); and “when at length she had learned enough to speak with her friends she would say: 'What is the name of this thing? For in my darkness I lost it.’” (pg. 217, “Niënor in Brethil”)

So here it is: Túrin has lost “dear things” in “his darkness” (Glaurung’s spell) and he thinks that Níniel is what he has lost, but she isn’t—or she isn’t the only thing that’s missing. Glaurung has ripped out of Túrin’s mind the memory of the only person he’s ever had romantic feelings for—Beleg—and because he’s confused and trying to find something to fill that gap, Níniel gets cast in a dual role—not just sister (with her ties to Finduilas) but also lover (with her subtler ties to poor, missing Beleg).  

This theory also has significant implications for Túrin’s death, since that’s the only time that Beleg is mentioned again, apart from a tangential sidenote.  When Mablung finally confirms to Túrin what he’s already beginning to fear is the truth, that Níniel was his sister Niënor, he runs up to the Cabed-en-Aras, from which Níniel has thrown herself, and he asks his sword to kill him. His sword is Gurthang, which was Anglachel, made by Eöl, the sword that Thingol gave to Beleg and that Túrin used to accidentally kill him, and the response is somewhat unexpected, since up till now we haven’t had any indication that it’s a talking sword,

“‘And from the blade rang a cold voice in answer: 'Yes, I will drink your blood, that I may forget the blood of Beleg my master…I will slay you swiftly.’” (pg. 256, “The Death of Túrin”)

Interestingly, this is after the sword has been reforged, and there’s no particular reason it should refer to Beleg as its master — after all, Túrin has been wielding it for years, and it was made by someone else entirely.  So then, why?  And why does it ask to forget his blood in particular?

Because Túrin has remembered, finally.  Whether the sword is picking up on the mood, whether it’s a narrative device, or whether it isn’t even really talking and it’s just Túrin’s mind playing tricks on him in his last extremis, I don’t know—though I favor the latter interpretation, particularly because Túrin himself is referred to as “the Black Sword” on numerous occasions.  But the important point here is Túrin has remembered, because Glaurung is dead, and his memory spells die with him, “Then Nienor sat as one stunned, but Glaurung died; and with his death the veil of his malice fell from her, and all her memory grew clearer before her, from day unto day, neither did she forget any of those things that had befallen her since she lay on Haudh-en-Elleth.” (pg. 243, “The Death of Glaurung”)

So Túrin knows by now exactly what he’s done—not only inadvertently marrying his sister but betraying the one great romantic love of his life.  The one he has probably just remembered accidentally killing in great detail.  It’s probably quite present in his mind when, rather than throw himself over the waterfall as Níniel did, he flings himself onto the very same sword that killed the only person he was ever in love with, whose name he has finally, finally been able to bring to mind…

In sum, Glaurung erases Beleg’s memory so thoroughly from Túrin’s mind that only tiny, hidden glimpses remain, even in the text.  This is the solution to the mystery of the vanishing Elf; it explains why Beleg vanishes right up until the very end, and it ties together the sense I had when I was reading the second half of something missing, something hidden, something incomplete.  It is, I imagine, the same way Túrin must have felt after he awoke—as he thought, completely—from the spell that Glaurung laid upon him the first time they fought.

[A/N: I also wrote a fic based on this premise: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28980519 ]

[grimvestige]

Here's what I spent a bunch of my time working on during this spring semester! My thesis is formatted as a trailer for a hypothetical game, titled Godslayer! It's supposed to be an action platformer! The closest in game feel I could say is Dead Cells, without the roguelike elements.

It follows Ace Beaumont on his quest to resurrect his wife by challenging the god of Death. I will be working on creating assets for it this summer on twitch! Feel free to come hang out to learn more about it, or tune into the stream vods on youtube.

TEMP TRACK MUSIC: Castlevania season 1 ost by Trevor Morris

All voices: @/inkcryptid on instagram

more rambles and credits under the cut

A huge thank you to my classmates and professors who helped me get the story in a cohesive direction and gave constant critique and feedback. And, a huge huge thank you to my partner, who has been the sounding board and encouragement for this project. I also of course need to thank the players of "Brass, Coin, & Blood" and "The Jade Omen" who have gotten to interact with Ace, allowing me to spend time characterizing him!

I'm still trying to figure out the fact that I somehow managed to get approved to make a total dream project for my thesis. It's set in my overarching D&D universe, Folly of Helios, following an original character I love dearly. And, I get to try to mimic the amazing 3D style of Guilty Gear Xrd, while trying to pay homage to the beautiful background of Powerhouse's Castlevania, a major inspiration to me. Not to mention a God of Death whom I originally came up with the concept for in highschool with a friend? The pieces of this project have been strewn about my life for at least six years, and it's crazy to see it to start to be something bigger.

[growingingreenwood]

In my universe Avaleina is basically the very very very very VERY last of the elves who plan to sail west before Mandos comes to collect them and take them there. After Legolas sails west, she returns to live in Eryn Lasgalen with Thranduil and Ferdan and the rest of her people, basically just helping everybody get things organized to eventually leave Arda too. 

Once everything is ready, Thranduil, Ferdan, and Galion sail west with the bulk of their people along with Celeborn and his people. Avaleina stays behind to rule Greenwood for an extended but undetermined amount of time to give those struggling with the decision more time to say goodbye to their lives in Aman. 

She told them that she would follow in around a decade (probably.) But that is not the case.

Meanwhile, Legolas is left waiting for her on the shores of the Blessed Lands. 

When he sailed away, in his mind, the worst outcome was that he and Ava would be separated from one another for perhaps a century. Maybe even a century and a half. But that is not the case. 

There are many that try to gently persuade him, as the bump into him on his daily morning strolls to the beach, that “I don't not think she will come to these shores by boat..” 

To which he always cheerfully corrects, “Yes, she will. Give her time.” 

Like a different, worse kind of sea longing his mind is constantly wondering what Ava is doing, if she's okay, if there’s enough people helping her. He wonders what the world she’s living in is like, and if it is being kind to her. 

Eventually, a few clusters of ships begin to arrive, but she is never on any of those boats. But stories of her are, paintings, records, news. “The Queen of Eryn Lasgalen was alive and well when we left.” The arriving elves would tell him. 

“There is no creature left on Aman with enough power to contest her.” Another would often quickly add. 

But the best thing one of these boats brought to him contained a crate full of her crowns. Legolas could not help but weep the moment a trembling hand reached out and touched one, as his body recognized the varying aspects of her magic, soul, and heart that the natural components of the crown had absorbed from its time upon her head.  

The Greenwood Royal family buried each and every one of the crowns themselves, and called that spot of land “The Queen’s Grove.” 

It became the place that Legolas would spend every evening in, wandering through the growing branches telling his wife whom he loved and missed so dearly all of the ridiculous things that popped into his mind. 

It was not near the same as having her there with him, but at least the cold ach in his chest did not grow. On the days he felt particularly loney, he would sleep among the branches of the tree’s, or try to practice some of her favorite dances beneath their leaves. 

Legolas knew the minute her feet had touched the shore of Valinor, because the tree’s within the grove that had grown nothing but leaves up until the point, all spontaneously bloomed with huge yellow flowers. 

And finally Legolas knew that the Queen of Eryn Lasgalen was home. 

[thejosh1980]

Little Wing

(Trigger warning: animal/pet death)

Today, right now, I am sat at the spot where Mijo felt his last sunrise, just 24 hours ago.

He was 28 weeks old, he spent 20 of those weeks with me, and my family. He was my family. He was thrust upon me by my wife and mum, who knew Mijo would be the kind of birthday present I'd want, but could never ask for.

When he arrived he was unexpected. Straight from the car, into my bedroom, onto my lap, what a surprise, it was love at first sight. Those eyes, that tail, that round belly, the fur, I was all in. I had to say goodbye to 4 beautiful pets whom I loved dearly when I left Germany, so then and there I made a quiet, whisper promise to Mijo;

“I'll never ever leave you”...

We began like any other Daddy and cat story, playing, eating, talking to each other. We may have made a few messes on the bed learning to potty train, but I couldn't really fault him, he was perfect. He loved cuddles, got under our feet all the time, talked to us a lot and wanted to be a part of everything happening around the house.

He meowed very loudly too. Sometimes he'd meow from the next room sounding lost and worried. That's when I started to realized something was very different about him. It took about 2 weeks, but then I realized, he was totally deaf!!!! No vacuum cleaner, loud bangs, claps, or door slams could get his attention. When he meowed loudly, it was either because he had to, to feel himself meowing in his head, or he was missing us and could smell us, but not hear us in the next room. I had never had a cat who couldn't hear me call their name, so this was going to be a challenge.

Mijo accepted that challenge...

In a short time I figured out how to clicker train him, using a torch. I love training cats. Most folks think it's impossible, but I've taught cats to fetch, sit and come on command in the past.... So, pretty soon I had him jumping up, over and across chairs and tables on cue. I also learnt a way to “call” him; assuming he could see me, if I knelt down and tapped my leg, he'd come a running. Every time. We had it all figured out.

Grab a harness and a lead, and off we go, walking around the garden. This wasn't a cat, this was a dog. He had very little fear, I mean, he couldn't even hear the birds making a racket or the car driving by or the dog barking next door. He was fixated on me.

I bought him a blow up boat, to use in the pool, to help him get used to floating on water. It was a huge boat for his little size, but he'd hop in, and I'd “treat” him while he got used to the motion. The plan was to build him up to a real boat, or canoe or SUP. I could imagine him walking on water.

He was also great with other cats, so I could take him to visit his cousin and they'd play all day (if we'd let them). He'd come with me to visit other family and then... well, then the real adventures started. Mijo and I could go to the river, the park and the beach. We also went for coffee at the busiest part in the local village, and he took it all in his stride. We took bike rides too, as he sat in a special backpack I had for him. I could hold him while skateboarding or put him on my shoulder as I walked around. He was chill, happy to see and smell his silent world.

When Alex or I came home, and he'd be in the bedroom snoozing or gazing out the window, we could come in, take off our shoes, put our stuff down, maybe run to the loo, then we could snuggle up with him, cause he hadn't heard us arrive. He would just be waiting... He'd just wait for someone to step close enough, blow on his ear, feel a vibration and then he'd meow a big BIG hello, purr and snuggle. He was a no pressure cat... But always ready for hugs and pats.

Besides being deaf, he just didn't seem like any other cat I'd had or even met...

But isn't the way it is with all pets? They're all unique.

He loved Alex. He always had a hard decision between my lap and hers, or sleeping close to one or the other. We had a son to take care of, to love and to enjoy. At the beginning, Alex wasn't sure about having a cat, she'd pretty much always been a dog person, but it didn't take long for Mijo to wrap her around his little paw. She was hooked.

We thought he was going to be grow up to become a big boy. You know, Maine Coon sized 5-6 or maybe 7 kilo. We had high hopes for a dog-like cat, big enough to take on the world. We wanted to show him the world too.

After he had his snip (desexing) in mid March, he wasn't very well, and it really traumatized all of us, we just weren't sure why he took it so badly. He was in a lot of pain, even though the operation itself was quick and really good, with no issues. He would spend the day, in his “bread loaf” position, with his nose to the ground. It was like he was conserving all his energy for when we came home or wanted his attention.

Eventually, after a few weeks he bounced back, back to being his usual self, for a while. He actually lost a lot of fur during this time, most likely due to a reaction to the antibiotics and pain killers. Where his collar and harness were, he lost all his hair. It only took a few days, a bit too quick to realize what was going on, he rarely wore the collar or harness after that. It meant we sometimes lost him in the house without his bell on to tell which room he was in, so I'd be running around turning on and off the lights to get his attention and a meow.

It was our fun game of “Mijo Polo”.

We had noticed he wasn't eating as much, and he wasn't as playful. In fact, all his toys were being ignored, and he rarely chased anything we teased him with. When we took him for playtime with his cousin, he wouldn't last as long play fighting. Something was up, we thought he'd bounce back by now.

Overall, he was a very chilled cat, having just had an operation and now with, ringworm, a tooth problem (one adult tooth was causing him problems and needed to be pulled) maybe that was why he wasn't too interested in food. Surely it wasn't bacteria, an infection or a virus in his blood.

In early May, Mijo developed ringworm, which, by the way, isn't a worm but rather a fungal infection. The vet already had us on anti fungal cream day and night. It's very unusual to get ringworm; it's all around us, but a strong immune system, actually, a decent immune system, would fight off any infection naturally. Cats generally just lick it all off their fur. Humans sometimes get it, from a scratch or a wound. It's in the soil, it's in the air.

When we got the treatment for the ringworm, we also gave him an appetite stimulant, to encourage him to eat, but it made little difference. As nothing changed, we went back to the vet a few days later, and did a hypothyroidism test; the results were borderline.

What could be going on?

At the time of his desexing operation, he was 1.7 kilos, a week later he was down to 1.5 and eventually 1.45 kilo. His body was growing a little, but his muscle and fat wasn't.

We talked to the vet and decided, even though his ringworm was infectious, the tooth had to go, sooner rather than later. It seemed logical that it was his biggest barrier to fulfilling his dietary requirements and his well being. We wanted him fattening up, growing up, and being his usual self again, ASAP. We needed to get him back on track towards good health, enough was enough.

On Monday 17th May I dropped the little guy off at the vet for the day. A check up and a tooth pull.

Before any cat gets an anesthetic, they run a simple blood test to determine if the cat is well enough. During the day we got a call that the operation couldn't happen, and that he'd have to stay in over night or longer, with meds to help him, because his red cell blood count was low. 10%. Most cats need around 40%, if there's any complication with the tooth pull, his blood may not clot.

It's official, he was very unwell.

I was at school when I got the news. I was in shock. Our little boy was that unwell? But he does eat (a little), he does walk on the lead with me, he's eating his treats... was he that unwell?

Suddenly we had to decide on some expensive tests to figure out what was wrong with him. I mean, the red blood cells were being eaten up by the white ones, but why?? We arranged the suggested tests and they kept him in over night.

I was very distraught. How can my little guy be so unwell yet behave well? With that blood count, he shouldn't be able to walk, he should be so lethargic that he can't keep his head up!! He should be in a coma.

All in all, theoretically, he should be dead.

So was it dwarfism, hypothyroidism, mycoplasma??? And and and?? Tests... Blood being taken.. Our boy in the vet over night, alone, worried, scared??? Will he make it through the night? I didn't sleep well...

On Tuesday afternoon the vet let us bring him home. His blood level was down to 9.1%. The idea was that, at least at home he'd have cuddles and love, and that might help his immune system. He was lethargic but not completely terrible. I would need to bring him in on Wednesday for another blood test, to see how he was doing.

On Wednesday, it didn't go well, Mijo had gone from 9 to 8.1% blood level. It was now becoming almost impossible to get any blood out of him. I saw how difficult it was 2 weeks earlier when he had the hypothyroid test, they had to try on both legs and his neck to get a half mil of blood! He was a champ and barely complained. But now, I couldn't imagine the pain he went through with even less blood.

He's been that sick for how long?? Why hadn't we noticed?

We were panicking.

The vet suggested we meet with a mature, more experienced doc, on Thursday. We should be able to figure something out, we had to. Each day = less blood = more chance of...

Well, I am a hopeful guy. I realize, I live on hope. I spent years hoping certain people in my life would change, or love me in a way that I feel some love. I always hope things will change for the better. I don't know why, but it's ingrained in me to feel hopelessness or hope... I think I'm never in the middle... or is that called acceptance? OK, maybe I do feel that too, eventually... But it takes a long long time...

I have videos of Mijo on Thursday 20th, he's cleaning himself in the sun, meowing and purring, happy to see me, walking around the garden with me. Full of life and adventure.

At lunch time, Mijo and I go to the vet. He is his usual cute self, always curious at the vets, and now there's a the new guy he's meeting, what an adventure.

Before he opens the cat box he said something along the lines of “Well, because his blood levels are so low, today is really about deciding if he goes to heaven or not...” I'm not sure, but I know I heard words like “heaven” and “euthanasia” early on in the consultation. Shock was setting in. I barely heard anything else he said, luckily we had Alex on the speaker phone.

Turns out, not only is our little guy deaf, he's an anomaly.

Any cat with 8.1% should be comatose. They should barely be able to walk. They certainly can't pee or poo without help and don't drink or eat much. Mijo came out of his box and sniffed around, was alert and ready to meet the new guy!!

The vet was stumped. He had never seen this before, in over 30 years...

We didn't know he was so sick, because, he was, overall, a well behaved cat. His weight he lost, sure, but he was now at least stable. He was eating, it just took a lot of creativity sometimes to spark his interest (mostly warming up meals and giving him treats).

The vet tried to explain to me, but I'm sure Alex on the phone understood it clearly, that we had very little time, well, no time. We had 3 choices that day. Go to a specialist an hour's drive away, give Mijo steroids and hope he had mycoplasma or Immune mediated hemolytic anemia (IMHA) or, lastly, euthanasia.

Wait???? What does that even mean??

The specialist would give him a blood transfusion, and some special custom drugs which should help him. The vet said it could cost in the 10s of thousands, and may help Mijo for a few weeks, but it's not a solution that we are sure would be long term or not.

Giving Mijo steroids would give him a fighting chance, or not... Basically it could cure or kill him. Because we aren't sure what is the cause of the low blood count, it could be IMHA, mycoplasma or something else, but it's a best educated guess at this rate. If it is the wrong choice, he may die quicker than expected.

Euthanasia, no explanation needed.

We decided on steroids. According to the vet, there was a 50/50 chance it would work. If the cause of the blood cells killing off each other was for or against steroids, we'd know soon enough. Still shocked I tried to understand it all. I'm so grateful Alex was on the line and knows this stuff through experience and study.

The idea of taking Mijo an hour's drive north to the specialist, to a cubicle, a place where we may not be with him 24/7, on the off chance that he wouldn't make it and die alone, we couldn't fathom that.

Mijo took the steroid injection like a champ, he always did injections well. He was given some antibiotics to also help. The vet said, that by Saturday we'll know if it was the right decision. We'd know if he would be getting better...

It was decided that on Monday 24th we'd go back in for a blood test to actually see if the steroids were working (cause apparently one can't really tell with Mijo's behavior, the cheeky monkey).

Mijo and I came home, and well, he ate, he was purring, sitting on my lap. The usual deal. When I went out to get the washing in, he tried to go out too, something we, as parents, have been very protective about. He doesn't go out alone, he doesn't go out without a lead or a bell. He's not an easy cat to find if he runs off, not that he has ever tried. He deaf, he can't hear cars or other dangers out there.

I promised him I'd take him out to that side of the house/garden that afternoon...

So we did, we went out, we sat down, he explored. He was well, good, better, best. He was my boy. He trusted me, I trusted him. I'm always amazed how well he walks by my side, like a dog, with loose leash... Taking my steps as cues when to walk, and when to stop.

We also met the neighbor's dog, which was a first, both were not really interested in each other... But still, Mijo knew there's a lot to live for...

Overnight he went great... Woke up with him on my chest relaxing waiting for me to get up and feed him, luckily I have a wife who had to get up for work at that moment. I remember she sang him a lullaby and held him like a baby. It was really sweet to see how much love they had for each other. Rock-a-bye Mijo...

We wanted to him feel as much love as we could. We felt that, if the steroids and antibiotics were doing their part, and we did ours, there's nothing he can't beat. And he sure felt the love...

I held him while doing some singing exercises, close to my chest. It was something we hadn't done before, and he purred. He'd look up and meow every time I stopped making vibrations. He felt it, I felt it, it was a connection.

We spent a lot of time, reading, relaxing and sitting on laps. Alex and I cuddled him, told him we loved him. He was really fighting. He was eating. He was a little more playful than in recent weeks. He wanted to live. We could feel it...

He went from eating half a packet to 1.5 packets a day, plus dry food. He always wanted treats, and I was always glad to oblige.

By Saturday he was wonder cat! Kneading... Purring... Chasing toys... Eager to hang out...

We'd overcome the problem! He was getting better. There's fight, love and life left in him. He was amazing. If it hadn't been for his ringworm (which was also healing very very well) I'd say he was perfect, especially once he put on another few grams...

We had 4 awesome days, loads of energy and love. He was never alone in the house, and rarely alone in a room. We wanted him to know, to feel, that we loved him so deeply and that all we want was him in our life, for adventures and cuddles.

On Monday morning, his appetite went down... He didn't really eat much...

We all left for the day, work and school. I think we were all worried, but he'd been so good and improved so so much, that we were sure he'd be fine. We have the blood test booked for the afternoon, I'm sure he'll pep up by then. The injection could be wearing off too...

Mijo and I went in to the vet, and his test came back at 14%!!! Damn, that's 6 points!! The vet expected 3 to be a big improvement. In fact, if he had 3 or less, euthanasia may have been the only option... Happy days! He was well. He's going to live! He'll be fine.

We're not out of the woods yet, but we are in the right direction.

All that love we lavished on him, not just in the past days, but the past 4 months. The adventures, the friends he'd made (both human and animal) the smells and sights he'd seen, the vibrations he felt, it was all coming together... He was a fighter with a lot of love to give...

We were over joyed. Really, I couldn't have been happier when I got the results. I gave a “whoop” and threw my fist in the air (I've never done that before in my life!).

We changed to tablet form steroids, as they'll be better long term, keep up the antibiotics and off we go...

But we all know, that often people and animals, when they know they are dying, they give it one last shot. And that was it... We didn't realize until Wednesday, that he wasn't actually going to get better...

Mijo stopped grooming himself, he slowly ate less and less... He became more and more lethargic, he started to sit in the “bread loaf” position with his nose on the ground, as he did after the snip, resting. We thought it was the change in steroids, and as I was at school and the girls at work, we just kept thinking he'd pep up eventually.

When I left for school Wednesday morning, he was alert, but lethargic. When I came home early to check on him, he had really changed again.

His belly was a little bloated, but he had hardly eaten. He had trouble walking, it seemed like it was a mix of muscle degradation/pain and confusion. His meowing changed to a high pitch cry, similar to that of a young kitten. He also stopped eating, he wouldn't even touch any of his tasty treats. He searched for any bit of sun to stand in, but he was looking so uncomfortable, his posture had changed, half sitting, half standing. I was grateful, when I carried him to his water bowl, that he drank a lot. He also went to the toilet, I held his tail so he didn't make a mess on himself.

We spent the afternoon outside, as the sun started to set. He loved the sun, I wanted him to feel warmth... I held him, talked to him. I don't know now many times I asked him to please hold on, please fight and that I loved him. He looked more comfortable in the sun.

I did film us walking around the pool. I am forever grateful for technology, so that I could just put my phone down, touch a button and record a moment. As we walked and talked, oblivious to the camera, I recognized a change in his breathing... I may have missed it previously, but for sure, his breath was becoming more and more labored. Every 3 or 4 breaths, he just had to try harder... His eyes were changing too... But I was sure he could recognize me, the way the vibrations from my chest reached his body and the way I smell. He would react from time to time, shifting or clawing at me.

He often touched my chest with his paw. Reaching out...

Mum and I went to the vet late Wednesday afternoon, the earliest we could. I explained it must be the change of steroids. No, it wasn't. They were the same type, it was just that he wasn't able to fight anymore. We discussed the specialist, called them and made a plan to go in first thing in the morning. I arranged for a friend to come with me, and Thursday morning bright and early, we were going up to get Mijo cured. Transfusion, drugs, you name it, we were going to do it. We had to, we told him we'd make him better.

There and then, Alex and I decided to trade in our honeymoon, you know from the wedding we had 13 months ago and still haven't done the traditional thing of a week or two away somewhere. We decided the money we had aside for that, would go to Mijo's specialist costs, because without Mijo, our honeymoon, whatever and whenever we decide to do it, wouldn't be worth doing, if he wasn't around.

I made a firm plan on how to help him through the night. We would hold him in shifts... All 3 of us... If one showered, the other held him. Dinner time, we shared the responsibility, not that we ate much anyhow. We cuddled, we talked, we purred, I would blow gently on his head... He was feeling love and he was fighting...

Because he hadn't eaten all day, we decided to try feeding him with a syringe, with success. With the tablets we were putting into his stomach, I felt he needed something else down there too... With a small syringe, he took it well, lapping up a tasty liquid treat.

When it was bed time, we put pillows around the bed, incase he fell, because he was very wobbly on his feet. He would cry out at random times, possibly from pain, but I think more from confusion. He sometimes wanted to get away from us, as we know, pets know when it's time and usually disappear, isolate.

We barely slept. I managed about 3 hours... But it was tough.. He wouldn't stay still, and eventually we put him in his little bed, near our bed... Of course he didn't stay there long.

At 4am I heard him crying... I found him under the bed... Alex woke up too... His breathing had changed a lot... Every breath was labored. He wasn't getting enough oxygen.

I laid on my back, and Mijo laid on my chest. This was how it often was, especially when I was reading... We did that until around 7am... Alex taking turns, holding him, talking to him, loving him. Mijo could barely hold himself up, he just laid in our arms... Breathing... His eyes began to glaze over...

We discussed our options, we felt the specialist was now a long shot. We didn't think he'd make the drive, he was near the end. Our little man had little fight left... And we wouldn't forgive ourselves for him dying in a foreign place. There were a lot of tears and back and forwards, including mum coming in for cuddles with the little guy at 5am...

Alex called the emergency vet, and we planned to go in at 8:30... Mijo's time had come...

When the sun comes up, if the blind is open in our bedroom, the sun shines right on through to Alex in bed, Mijo was in her arms, while she drank coffee as the sun rose.

Sometime later I took the little guy out to the pool, where we walked and talked, cuddled and loved, around and around, in the morning sun. I talked to him about all the adventures we had, riding bikes, visiting people, the beach and the river. I spent most of that hour, holding him, looking to his eyes... He gazed up, I just hope he knew it was me. I just knew he felt the vibrations of my words.

We both told him, it was OK to let go now. We were ready. But he kept on fighting for each breath... I think he was just like his Dad, always hopeful..

He last moments at home, where in the chair I'm sat in now. It gets the best light, first thing, even though it's inside the “catio”. Alex had sat down while I was walking outside, I seem to do better when I walk, and I brought him in for cuddles with her in the sun... He was bathed in sunshine, in Alex's arms... It was beautiful...

Actually getting in the car and going to the vet, was tough, but it really hit me when I walked in. I held the little guy, and just burst into middle-aged-man tears and sobbing... If you were there, you'd know I was my mother's son, cause she was sobbing too... I couldn't look anyone in the eye... I didn't understand what was going on, or about to go on...

I think I was in another place...

We went into a consult room, and I just laid the little guy down, not thinking of using the blanket we had... The vet explained the procedure and took him away for his catheter and first injection, some anesthetic? I don't know, but apparently it was the right thing, it helped with his pain.

I couldn't even look Alex or Mum in the eye... I just cried...

I still had hope...

When they came back, Mijo was wrapped in a soft blanket, what a great idea...!! He was quieter, more peaceful... The vet left to give us a moment...

He was still breathing, still fighting... I put my ear to his face, and heard him...

I kept making sure his eye lids closed from time to time. I remember back when Catalina, my little girl in Germany, needed to be anesthetized for a check up. The vet put some put liquid drops in her eyes and made her blink, so her eyes didn't dry out... So for Mijo, I did that every once in a while... I didn't want his eyes to dry up... I wanted him to be able to see me, because laying on that table, he couldn't hear me.

I begged Alex not to bring the vet back in for the final injection... I think I may have screamed something at her... I don't know... I wasn't me... I was trying to hold him in my arms, without moving him... I was trying to give him another chance...

I bawled...

I don't know if I have ever cried like that before... I thought I'd be all cried out... I thought all my tears had already left the building the previous hours and days... But there was more... a lot more... and more to come...

I know that Alex and I held hands over his body... I felt the love... I felt his warmth... his breathing... I know I cried tears onto him, there were tear drops on his lips...

I looked him in the eye as much as I could, but mostly, I cried...

I felt the liquid go into him, I felt it go around my hand into him...

I don't know much about what happened after that... I know I didn't want to leave him, I had promised him I would never do it. I regret not holding him once more... I know that at that moment, I felt the life drain out of me... I felt hope die...

I walked out, not knowing what to do, and flopped down on the grass outside... I never sit on grass, but Mijo liked it...

I managed to drive home...

That was yesterday...

Since then I've tried to rest, tried to come to grips with what has happened, tried to connect with a few friends, I've tried... I'm still trying...

This morning I got up wanting to do some sport, washing, then study and take on the day with confidence... It's a new day, I should take that opportunity to get back into my routine... It took all of 1 minute, from bed to bathroom, to be bawling... Except for the time I manage to calm down enough to type this blog, I've been crying... It's now 10am... I was awake at 6:15...

We are running out of tissues..

I felt so bad this morning, I wanted to plead with Alex not to go to work, because I just can't today. I just can't. We have discussed how she copes in these situations, and I know that's how she copes, by going to work, so I kept my trap shut. I just want her to hug me all day, so I can feel her warmth.

I cried so much on the drive to drop mum off at work this morning, she started crying too, and contemplated not going to work... She wanted to be there for me, but I told her, honestly, I don't think I'd be much company today.

I don't know the grieving process, we haven't learnt that in counseling school yet, but I do know, I'm feeling very lost... I feel very numb...

I can't explain it, and maybe that's why folks can never really explain how they feel after someone close to them, or their pet, has passed. We are just lost.

I also feel that I am grieving for my other losses in my life. It's a bit like, it's a culmination of all the others before him, plus him on top, making me feel pain like I have never experienced before.

Grief is just love, with no place to go... Alex and I talked about that quote last night. I used this quote to help me through leaving my 4 pets in Germany, I know I have to find a new place for my love, but for now, I just can't.

I know I couldn't have gotten through this without the support of my Mum and Alex...

While Mum cries at the drop of a hat, she is solid and thoughtful and loving. Alex is strong and experienced in these matters. She knew what to say, and when, even if I did yell back… Both have a lot of time and patience for me.

I know Alex and Mum feel bad, maybe even guilty, for choosing him. Mijo was a present, to give me joy and love and comfort. And he sure did, in multitudes, to all of us. I would never have gotten a cat back then, I didn't feel Alex or I were ready, we were still working through our issues with our pets in Germany.

Alex and I decided that we want Mijo home with us. He was only on this earth for 6.5 months, we expected him to be with us for 10+ years. Taken too early. Once he's cremated we'll have him in a little urn. He was so small, but if there's a little left over, we will either plant a tree with his ashes or sprinkle him down by the river, the first place he went to that was close to water.

The past day or so, I have shared what happened with some friends, classmates and family, and everyone has been so thoughtful and caring. Thank you, it's really helped to know you're all out there, thinking of the little guy. He would have loved to meet you all.

He was perfection. If someone else had gotten him, realized he was deaf, they may not have given him the adventures and life he had. Mum considers him a rescue cat...

So here I am, in the chair, his last chair in his last moments at home.

I can still smell him on my shirt. When I walk around the house, dazed, I sniff my shirt. He had a wonderful smell. The smell of love and adventure. I hope that smell lasts a life time.

I miss his warmth, his meow, which was damn loud!! I miss, that sometimes he'd get lost around the house... Or he'd lose me, around the house. He was gentle, and only bit me once, by accident, piercing my thumb a little. I miss the fact he had 1 tooth growing forward, directly out, making him a tri-toothed kitten with a protruding top lip! He took on the world without fear. I've never experienced anything like it in a cat. My girl Catalina did sit on my shoulder as I walked down the street in Germany, but Mijo, he let me go skateboarding with him, played guitar with me (he'd chew the strings) and one time, I even vacuumed his tail.

All trust. No fear.

Back when he lost all his hair around his neck and stomach after his snip operation, we were pretty concerned. Funnily enough, it grew back pretty quickly, but it grew back white, not grey. He had a ring around his neck and kind of marks on his back wrapping around to his belly. Alex googled it, and actually found out, cats can often have their hair grow back white after trauma or experiencing extremes of temperature if their hair was cut short or fell out.

About a month ago, I sent my dearest of friends, Sandra, a photo of his regrowth, and she commented looks like “little angel wings”...

Fly on little wing, fly on...

RIP Mijo Angus

12-11-2020 – 27-05-2021

Thanks for reading,

Josh