#radio explains fairytales badly

[radioactivepeasant]

3 more weeks of the extra hours 😅 hopefully not every week will feature reruns.

Fic Prompts: Folklore Friday

This is going to be another episode of "Radio Explains Fairytales Badly". Now, as usual, I'm doing this all in one "take", without referring to the source material. This week: The Little Mermaid.

To start out, the eponymous mermaid is not named Ariel, she really doesn't have a name. But admittedly, writing "the little mermaid" over and over is going to get old real quick. So we're calling her Ariel for the sake of brevity.

Ariel is, like in the Disney version, the youngest of many sisters. She longs for the day she's considered old enough to go up to the surface. Because unlike the movie, it's not forbidden to go to the surface. It's just that it's a rite of passage for merfolk once they hit their mid teens.

Presumably because by that time they're old enough to have learned important things like "look both ways before crossing the current", "don't tease a whale", or "boats can run you over if they don't see you: stay out of their blind spots".

And until they're old enough to make that journey, mermunchkins can listen to the old sea witch tell stories about what it's like up there. She's not evil, mind you. The sea witch seems to be a wholly neutral party, and may or may not be Ariel's paternal grandmother. I don't remember.

Well Ariel finally hits that milestone and is heading for the surface before they can so much as say "Happy Birthday". Her timing could have been better: there's a storm brewing up there. And also a ship. Which coincidentally happens to have a prince who apparently is not a strong swimmer.

Prince goes overboard, and Ariel decides not to take a cue from the sirens. Instead of facilitating the prince's demise, she saves him from drowning and deposits him on the shore. She also develops a huge crush on the first human she's ever seen and decides she wants to marry him.

Calm down, Ariel. You are fifteen. Worry about Fish School Exams or something, not whether or not this waterlogged royal is husband material.

Unfortunately, the fishy miss's mind is made up.

So she goes swimming down into the deepest parts of the ocean, where Gramma Sea Witch lives. I really hope this means Gramma Ursula is like, a cuttlefish mermaid or an anglerfish mermaid, because that would be pretty sweet.

The witch warns Ariel that this is a really weird career choice to be pursuing at her age, and gives her a chance to back out. Ariel, however, is exceedingly stubborn. Apparently being separated from her entire family is just "meh" for her? Geez, Ariel. Definitely not thinking this through all the way.

"Be careful what you wish for," says the Sea Witch, "Because while I do have a spell that can trade your tail for legs and your gills for lungs, that thing's got some gnarly side effects. And I have to tell you in a disclaimer so that you don't blame any particular miseries on me because I totally warned you."

"Cool, let's hear it," says Ariel.

"Okay, so, these legs aren't supposed to be there. Your nervous system was built for a fin. So lemme warn you right now that walking is gonna hurt. Also, reconfiguring your respiratory system is tricky, and the tradeoff is that you won't be able to talk until the spell is permanent."

"Wait wait," Ariel interrupts, "It's not permanent?"

And, not liking that glint in Ariel's eye, the Sea Witch answers, "No, not unless this guy you fell for kisses you by the third sunrise. If the spell wears off without a kiss, you die. Mermaids can't breathe on land."

"Okay, cool," says Ariel, "I signed the disclaimer, now what?"

"You. You didn't hear the part about possible death?"

"No no, I did. It's cool, I'll have that kiss before then."

And reluctantly the Sea Witch performs the spell that turns Ariel into a human-shaped person. Leaving her to sort of Octodad her way through the surf.

Now, mind you, Things have been Happening on the surface during this time. See, when Ariel rescued the prince, she ditched him on the shore of a neighboring kingdom. And another princess entirely happened to be walking down the beach in time to see this raggedy looking dude wash up with the tide.

Now, to her credit, this lady immediately runs up to check his pulse. Once she determines that he is, in fact, alive, she's like "Oh dang, we need to get you medical attention right now immediately."

So the prince, vaguely remembering seeing a feminine face while drowning, comes to the conclusion that both his rescuers are the same woman. The princess and her family nurse him back to health and send him home, during which time they apparently manage to form a nice, solid relationship of some kind.

And then Ariel washes up by the prince's home castle and things get weird.

First of all, this girl has no clothes. But apparently her hair is so long that she just winds it around herself and is completely covered. Understandably, the prince and his household are like "What in the good heck. Where did this kid come from??"

The prince is very sweet to Ariel, and she latches on like a barnacle. She literally takes a cushion and sleeps outside his door at night. He may or may not be mildly creeped out by this, but Ariel is bound and determined to get that kiss. But the only kisses the prince ever gives her are on the forehead, and apparently those don't count in the spell's book 🙄.

The prince decides to propose to the First Aid Princess, which seems like a perfectly reasonable thing to do. Ariel is, of course, upset that her plan isn't working out. But since she can't write in their language, she can't tell the prince why she needs him to kiss her. And the prince and First Aid Princess mistake her desperation as not wanting to be left alone, so they invite her onto the wedding barge.

With only one night left before she dies and turns into sea foam (because apparently that's what the natural process of decay is for a merfolk), Ariel gets another visit from the Sea Witch.

"I was afraid this was going to happen," she says, "But I was kind of afraid to tell you the other option. If you use this special knife and skewer the newlyweds with it, human blood works in place of a human kiss to solidify the spell. See? I told you the side effects were rough."

She leaves Ariel with the knife, and Ariel almost commits regicide.

No really, for all that she was obsessed with the prince, she was about six inches from shish-kebabing him.

But at the last second she realizes, "Holy crap, I was about to straight up murder a guy. Even if I killed them and became human permanently, I'm pretty sure they'd all know I did it anyway."

She decides she can't trade two innocent lives for her own, and jumps back into the sea with the knife. When the sun comes up, she's supposed to die and turn into sea foam. But apparently her decision to not commit murder, even though it could potentially have saved her life, gets her turned into this airy wind-being. I think they're supposed to be like Junior Angels or something. I dunno, ask Hans Christian Andersen. But these wind-people are like "Hey! Welcome to the crew! We fly wherever we want and do good deeds!"

Poor Ariel switched habitats twice in one week.

And it remains debatable whether the prince ever had any clue that all this drama was going on behind the scenes.

[litwitlady]

Send Me Home (1/?)

Read on AO3.

‘The Braves are down to their last at bat, Jeff. And it’s Michael Guerin in the on-deck circle. What’s Ramon’s strategy here? Does he try to jam him up inside or keep firing fastballs and hope Guerin can’t catch up?’

It’s September in Atlanta and the Braves are playing the Marlins. Every game counts as both teams vy for a spot in October baseball. Michael Guerin is a lead candidate for MVP, and he’s always a threat in the bottom of the ninth with two outs and the bases loaded. The sellout crowd roars as his walk-up music begins to play.

I was born to the desert And to the desert I’ll return Sun-soaked and leathered Tattered and tethered Send me home, send me home, send me home

‘Ramon’s got that curveball, Chip. I’m not sure Guerin’s ever met a fastball he couldn’t hit. Especially in the bottom of the ninth. So, I think Ramon starts with the curveball even if that’s exactly what Guerin’s expecting.’

Michael steps into the batter’s box and takes a couple of quick practice swings, eyes wide and watching Ramon’s every move. He squares his hips and lowers his hands on the bat just a touch. It’s an adjustment he’s been working on for the past month or so with great success. Ramon lets loose his first pitch. As expected, it’s a nasty curveball and a pitch Michael has struck out on more than once during his twelve year career. But this time he’s prepared and anticipates perfectly where the bottom of the curve will land. He shoots a laser to shallow right field, and it drops in for a walk-off single. The dugout empties and everyone tackles him as he crosses home plate, one game closer to October.

--------

Later that night, Michael sits on the tailgate of his Chevy, beer in hand and staring up at the stars like so many nights before. Several of the guys had harassed him about going out to celebrate, but he’s not in the mood. He’s never in the mood these days. The winning still feels good and the possibility of the MVP is a dream. But for a long time now, he’s felt like there’s something missing in his life. Something essential, something elusive, something just out of his reach.

The truth is that he’s lonely. It’s a truth he can admit to himself when he’s alone underneath the cosmos watching the stars blink down at him against the wide expanse of space.

There have been relationships along the way. Women he’s dated earnestly. Once upon a time, maybe even a couple he could have loved. When he was younger, there had also been a few men. But none recently. The deeply rooted homophobia of baseball to blame. Mostly anyway. It’s strange now - everyone knows he’s bisexual, a simple Google search is all it takes. But he’s fairly certain baseball collectively decided to ignore his sexuality altogether after he got called up to the majors all those years ago.

He wants to believe he’s not afraid to be seen with men. He tells himself it’s just simpler this way, less complicated. Fewer awkward questions and the focus remaining on his athletic abilities rather than his sex life. Besides, only two major league players have ever come out and they both only did so after they’d retired. He supposes maybe he counts as the third. It’s not the stuff of fairytales, and Michael had learned that lesson during his brief stint in Double-A ball.

That feels like a lifetime ago.

Alex Manes’ new album drifts through the truck’s windows. His low, throaty voice practically purring into Michael’s ears. He’s been a big fan of Alex and his music for several years now. They’re both from New Mexico and the way he sings about the desert rings true enough to Michael that listening to one of his songs sends him right back home. Despite their many issues, he misses his brother and sister so badly sometimes he can barely breathe. Alex’s music reminds him of all the things and all the people he’s left behind - for better or worse. A couple of years ago, he’d had the opportunity to see Alex perform live but he’d turned it down. He still can’t explain why.

The night stretches out before him. Beer and music lulling him into a peaceful sleep until a bright light flashes in his face and startles him awake. He sits up and raises his hands peacefully. ‘Hey, Ernie.’

‘Oh, Mr. Guerin. I didn’t recognize you. What are you still doing here? It’s past midnight.’ He clicks the flashlight off and clips it back onto his belt. ‘Congrats on the walk-off!’

Michael shrugs. ‘Thanks. Didn’t want to go home just yet. Like watching the stars at night. But I haven’t seen you in a while. The grandkids still running circles around you?’

‘You know it! Caleb just turned five and is a holy terror. Michelle is eight going on eighteen. I can barely get a word in edgewise between the two of them.’ His eyes shine even in the darkness, crinkling at the edges.

Michael’s heart aches at Ernie’s easy, simple joy, but he manages a genuine smile thanks to the night’s shadows softening the edges of his jaw. ‘That sounds nice.’ He hops off his tailgate. ‘I’ll get out of your hair. Got an early game anyway. Need to get some sleep.’

‘Well, now, don’t let me chase you off. I don’t mind the company. It gets a little spooky at night. You can always come knock on my door if you ever need anything.’ Ernie opens the Chevy’s door for Michael and shuts it behind him. ‘All these other guys with their flashy sports cars and you in this old rust bucket. You’re a weird one, Mr. Guerin. But I like that about you.’

Michael runs his hands around the cracked steering wheel. ‘Most days this truck is about the closest thing to home I’ve got. There’s still desert dirt in the bed and an engine I rebuilt myself. What the fuck would I do with a Ferrari?’

They both laugh and Michael waves and honks his horn as he pulls out of the player’s lot. The streets are mostly empty, cars keeping to the well-lit interstate at night. He decides to stay on surface roads and take the long way home, radio softly playing old country songs. His thoughts drift to tomorrow’s game and the rookie pitcher the Marlins are starting. His own rookie year had been tough, and he makes a mental note to speak to the kid at some point during the game, ask him how he’s doing and if he’s being treated well.

The streetlights along Peachtree illuminate his path through Brookhaven. He crosses into Atlanta city limits and enters Buckhead just as ‘Lay Me Down’ by Loretta Lynn and Willie Nelson starts to play through his speakers. And all too soon, he turns down his street and opens the cedar gate at the end of his driveway, parking his truck and sitting in the darkness until the song comes to an end.

Climbing out of his truck, he unlocks the front door with his telekinesis, slipping inside quietly and deactivating his alarm system. He’d bought the house in foreclosure, spending most of his money on remodeling the mid-century ranch. It’s not extravagant, but it’s the most expensive thing he owns. He’d even let Isobel fly out to decorate the place within a very strict budget, and he’d had to admit she’d done a great job - one side of his front door Atlanta, the other side New Mexico.

But even so, it has never felt like home.

The first few nights he’d spent in the house had been rough. It was too quiet and too soft and too much. More than once he’d grabbed his ancient, worn sleeping bag and crawled into the bed of his truck. Sleeping hard on the uncomfortable. ribbed metal but beneath the stars he loved so much. The morning dew waking him with the sun each morning.

These days he manages to sleep in bed at night, but only because he’d installed two skylights overhead so that the stars would always be his. And only his. He rarely brings anyone home anymore, preferring their house to his. But when he does, he takes them to a guest bedroom. None of them ever seem to mind how empty the space is or how devoid of personality. Four blank walls and a lone bed filling the room. Why would they? It’s not Michael the foster kid from the desert they’re sleeping with. It’s Michael Guerin the multi-millionaire first baseman with the single-season home run record and the aw-shucks, good boy smile.

Tonight he doesn’t bother turning on any lights. He just pads through the kitchen to grab an apple and a bottle of water, undresses and climbs into bed. He takes a large bite of the granny smith and pulls out his phone, calling Isobel.

‘Congrats on the walk-off!’ He can hear another game in the background. Isobel had never watched a baseball game in her life - including any of his - until the day he’d gotten drafted right out of high school. But now she watches all of them. Or as many of them as possible. Her scouting reports are better than anything stamped official and readily available in the team clubhouse.

‘Thanks. Didn’t really see the ball that well tonight, though. Is Max there?’ It’s stupid to ask when he already knows the answer.

‘Out with Liz. They’ve been inseparable ever since she moved back to Roswell. It’s gross and I miss you.’ The sound on her tv goes silent and he knows she’s settling in for a long conversation. ‘Tell me about tomorrow. Any surprises?’

‘No. New kid on the mound just called up. Got a mean slider. Torres has some pain in his wrist so he’ll be benched.’ Michael finishes his apple in two large bites and guzzles his water, listening to Isobel pound away at her keyboard already deep in research mode. ‘Might get me moved up to the number two slot.’

They spend fifteen minutes strategizing. It’s what they do most nights. Isobel critiquing the numbers based on intuition and her own database of knowledge concerning the human psyche, while he runs statistical analyses and probabilities in his head faster than humanly possible. Michael suggests more than once that she’d make a great scout and that maybe when he retires they can go into business together. He’s told her this a million times, but she only laughs him off and reminds him that she already has a job.

‘A worthless job that doesn’t pay you what you deserve.’ He reaches for the tv remote on his nightstand but can’t find it. Not that it matters. He switches the television on with his mind and nods his head through the channels, stopping on an old western and muting the volume.

‘Philanthropy is not worthless, Michael!’ She sighs loudly to punctuate her exasperation. ‘And my salary is not the point - the point is helping people. Besides, I have all of Noah’s money and can negotiate more pay any time I choose.’

That he believes. ‘How’d your date go last night?’ Asking Isobel about her date absolutely means she’ll push him to share something just as personal. But it was her first official date with a woman and he genuinely wants to know how it went. No matter the price he’ll pay.

‘Really, really, really well.’ He can hear the grin in her voice and it makes him smile. ‘She’s a cardiologist and very good with her hands. Valenti makes a pretty superb matchmaker. Maybe I’ll ship him your way because you could certainly use the help.’

Michael rolls his eyes and fakes a groan. ‘You can keep Valenti. Don’t you think it’s weird to have your ex setting you up on dates? Do you really think he’s the best judge of character?’

‘Kyle knows me better than most. He was my first relationship after Noah and he put up with a lot. I trust him implicitly with my heart and yours. Plus, I was the one who broke up with him.’

‘My heart is fine, thanks.’ He lies smoothly and knows exactly how she’s going to respond.

‘I can’t stand the thought of you all the way across the country in that foreign place with no one to go home to at night.’

He snorts. ‘It’s called Georgia, Iz. And I’m not home enough for a relationship to work right now.’

‘Half the guys on your team - on any team! - are married. So that’s a pisspoor excuse. You keep pushing everyone away. Don’t forget who you’re talking to. I know you, Michael. As soon as you start to feel something, the doors slam shut and you become another stereotypical lonewolf cowboy.’ Her voice is loud now, vehement and self-righteous. They’ve reenacted this scene so many times it feels very paint by number at this point. ‘I hardly ever hear a smile in your voice anymore.’

She’s right and she knows it. He used to love dating, meeting new people. First kisses and first fucks. Last kisses and farewell fucks. He lived for those moments and now he hardly ever looks anyone in the eye. ‘We have this conversation at least once a month. And nothing has changed. It’s too hard right now, Iz. I’m too known to ever really be known. Not the way I would want to be. Not in any way that I would trust.’

There’s no use arguing so they move on to easier topics. Max and LIz’s ongoing romance, details of Isobel’s date, Maria’s remodel of the Pony thanks to a very generous anonymous donation. Every word out of her mouth squeezes his heart a little bit tighter until it’s too much and he says goodnight.

Flipping onto his side, he reaches his arm out to the other side of the bed, running his hand over the cold, unwrinkled sheet. His eyes land on the empty pillow no head ever touches and tries to imagine a face looking back at him. A face that might smile suggestively or quietly murmur goodnight. But he’s unable to conjure anything beyond a blank, shapeless outline. It makes him feel pathetic so he yanks the pillow underneath his own head and forces his eyes shut, trying in vain to quiet his mind. Despite his best efforts, sleep takes its sweet time finding him.

The next morning he’s exhausted but gets to the field early. He’d woken up to a cryptic message from Isobel. There’s a surprise waiting for you after the game! Stick around this time, Michael. Don’t make me get on a plane. He’s sure that can’t mean anything good, but he attempts to put it out of his mind for now.

The ballpark is already bustling with activity. Michael heads into the clubhouse to change. He stops and asks Stan, their hitting coach, for some extra work before the rest of the team arrives. He’s worried about how he’s been shifting his wrists recently and wants someone else’s opinion. The adjustments he’d made last night seem to be working, but he’s worried about straining a muscle or tweaking the wrong tendon. Two of his teammates are already on the IL with wrist pain. He doesn’t want to be next, especially with the postseason race and his run at MVP on the line.

Michael finds Danny Marks asleep in one of the clubhouse’s leather chairs. He swats him on the head on the way to his locker, laughing at Danny’s loud yelp. ‘Fuck, man, you’re always asleep. How did you manage to stay awake on the mound long enough to put together two Cy Young seasons?’

‘Talent, Guerin. Talent. You should try it sometime. Maybe then you’ll win MVP.’ Danny yawns and stretches his arms over his head. Michael glares at him. ‘Don’t worry. You’re still the favorite. Our very own diamond darling. No one else is getting their own personal concert any time soon.’

‘What?’ He sits on the chair at his locker, blinking at Danny in confusion. ‘Personal concert?’ Isobel’s strange text message flashes through his head again while he inwardly groans.

‘Oh, yeah.’ Danny grins and crosses his ankles on the table in front of him, brashly enjoying the way Michael squirms. ‘Alex Manes is traveling down from Nashville just for you - baseball’s most beloved first baseman.’ He throws a toy football at Michael’s head, chuckling when it bounces off his curls. ‘He’s not bad looking, you know.’

‘Stop.’ Danny is Michael’s best friend on the team and the only one he feels comfortable enough to have this conversation with. ‘Whose idea was this? Did Isobel do something? Or was this you?’

Michael doesn’t want this. Not at all. And he can’t exactly explain why. Music is personal to him - profoundly personal. Always has been since he was nothing but an unloved kid trapped in various violent foster homes. It was music that had kept him warm at night and music that had loved him best. The only escape available to him during most of his darkest hours.

Over the years, there have been many artists he’s considered favorites. Most of them old country crooners or folk song heroes. Much like Alex Manes. But with Alex, it’s something more. Something he has a hard time vocalizing. They are both from New Mexico. Both spent a chunk of their formative years in Roswell. Michael has read or watched multiple interviews with Alex where he’s alluded heavily to an abusive father. His lyrics certainly do the same. Lots of kids grow up that way - Michael knows he’s not alone in that particular fate - but the way Alex puts that pain to music settles something inside his chest that has never been settled before.

So the thought of meeting Alex worries Michael. They say don’t meet your heroes for a reason. In his head, Alex represents a sense of safety, a sense of home. What happens when they meet and that’s taken from him? Because maybe Alex is a liar. Or maybe he’s a dick. Either possibility is very real. He’s also a vet, and Michael hates, hates, hates the military. And he doesn’t want to hate Alex. Doesn’t want to lose his music. Cannot emotionally afford to lose his music if he’s being honest.

‘Isobel apparently knows someone who knows someone who knows someone. I just didn’t try and stop her. Or Lena.’ Danny’s wife is Isobel’s favorite human. It’s the worst thing that’s happened to Michael since meeting Danny. The two of them have done nothing but make his life one unasked for surprise after another. ‘Besides, even if you hate it, the team could really use some fun before heading into the postseason. Some good old-fashioned team bonding, my friend. And this time, you don’t get to run away. The guys need to see their captain smile every once in a while.’

Michael sighs and changes into his warmups. Danny’s phone rings and he grins one last time at Michael before disappearing for some privacy. Michael decides to push Alex Manes to the back of his mind and concentrate on the game ahead of him. Stan is waiting, anyway. So he’ll focus on his wrists for now and worry about everything else later. The one thing he does do, however, is pull out his phone and send Isobel a very pointed text.

You should have gotten my permission first.

Isobel’s text response is nothing but the angel halo emoji. Michael wishes his telekinesis was strong enough to travel across state lines because he’d like to throw her phone into the wall. Since that option is not available to him, he sends Max a text instead.

Your sister is a menace.

He pockets his phone, not bothering to wait on an answer. Max tends to be too busy these days. Not that that’s anything new really. Unless your name is Liz Ortecho or Isobel Evans, he doesn’t have much time for you.

The morning stretches by as gametime approaches. Batting practice goes well and Michael works with Stan on keeping his wrists from turning too much when he swings. His teammates have all found out about the concert by the time the first pitch is thrown and none of them will let him forget it. Each time his walk-up music begins to play, Danny leads a small group of particularly bad vocalists in a sing-a-long. All of them belting out the lyrics at the top of their lungs. Michael tries to keep the stupid grin off his face and almost suceeds.

He won’t admit it, but he actually begins to get excited. Doesn’t even mind when Max only ends up responding with a snarky text.

Try living less than five miles from her.

He’d give anything to live five miles from Isobel. Michael loves his teammates. He really does. Atlanta has one of the best team dynamics in baseball. Maybe the best. They support each other, love one another, and when they say family, they mean it. Team dinners and family outings are normal even during the off season. Michael doesn’t avoid spending time with them because he dislikes anyone - although there have been various tiffs in the past but nothing long lasting. He avoids them because he loves them enough to let his mouth loosen too much, all his secrets threatening to tumble out with no regard for his safety or the safety of his siblings.

He knows this because it has happened on more than one occasion. Years ago during his rookie years when living hard and drinker harder were his nightly norm. On any given night you’d find him at the bar, four fingers deep into a bottle of bourbon, mouthing off about moving things with his mind. It wasn’t the booze talking; it was his loneliness. The throbbing homesick ache in his chest that only Max and Isobel could smooth away. Once he knew his teammates were shitfaced, he’d let some little comment slip about his abilities. Half of them never paid any attention to the things he said and the other half merely laughed at him.

He’d told Isobel one night about the things he said and she’d yelled at him solidly for an hour. The next day he’d gotten a nasty phone call from Max and has kept his mouth shut ever since that conversation.

Keeping their secret is important. Michael understands that, but the lying exhausts him. He loves Danny and hates that the most important part of himself Danny and Lena can never know. He loves his other teammates, and he doesn’t want to hide this huge part of himself from them forever. The lying has always made him feel unclean - distant and deceptive. Back in Roswell, it had been easier. He hadn’t had many friends and the people closest to him shared the same secret. But now, the people he sees every single day aren’t allowed to know the real him. It breaks his heart in a way he could never have anticipated, making him feel truly alien.

Michael and Isobel had jumped through enormous hoops to keep his DNA secret from team doctors and drug testers. It’s the only reason he’d ever agreed to her mind influence.

A major league baseball player cannot have telekinetic superpowers, alien or not. The cheating accusations would be immediate and relentless - his career over and his name shamed forever. Regardless of the fact that he would never dream of cheating to advance his career. Besides, he’s self-aware enough - or perhaps cocky enough - to understand that his level of talent doesn’t require any telekinetic assistance. Michael Guerin is just that fucking good.

During his last at bat in the eighth inning, Alex Manes’ face flashes on the digital scoreboard high above centerfield advertising the aftergame concert. Michael concentrates on keeping his wrists tight and imagines that Alex is somewhere in the stadium watching him. He swings at the first pitch - a fastball left too high over the plate - and knows he’s gotten every piece of it by the cracking sound his bat makes. He starts a slow run to first base and watches the ball sail over the leftfield wall. With his signature two claps, he rounds first and enjoys the cheering crowd chanting his name. Stepping on the bag at home plate, his eyes glance back up at the scoreboard, but Alex’s face has disappeared. And suddenly his nerves have returned tenfold at the realization that soon he’ll be face to face with a man he has no idea how to talk to - what to say or even if he’ll get a chance to say anything at all.

Despite the cheers and happy butt slaps from his teammates, the pit in Michael’s stomach stretches wide. In the clubhouse, he checks his phone again and one last final message from Isobel lights up his screen.

He wants to meet you first.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Catch Me | Mark Fischbach

Warnings? None? Bad writing? lmao I’m sorry 

Requested? Nah 

Summary: Mark will always be there to catch you 

Word Count: 2,057 

Bold parts are the lyrics to Catch Me by Demi Lovato which I highly recommend listening to while reading this :)

You lean up against the couch, your knees tucked into your chest and a book propped on your thighs. You and Mark had taken a trip to your local bookstore earlier that day, and picked out books for each other to read that day and see if you liked them. It was your idea of the perfect day, and so far you were loving the book Mark had picked for you.

He sits next to you, leaning against the back of the chair reading the novel you picked up earlier that day too. For most of the day you had been able to focus but as Mark had begun to get further into the book and react to the plot, you became more distracted by him. But distracted in a good way. 

You scan the features of his face, his brows are furrowed, lips in a straight line as his eyes run across the page. You’re pretty sure he can feel your stare because he looks over at you with a confused face. 

“What?” He asks, his head tilting to the side practically mimicking Chica in the cutest way possible. 

You smile at him lovingly, shaking your head lightly. 

Before I fall too fast 

“Nothing,” You say, the soft smile growing when his appears on his face. He sits up, closing his book and leans towards you. 

Kiss me quick but make it last

So I can see how badly this will hurt me when you say goodbye

His lips meet yours in a gentle kiss. Not too long and not too short but meaningful nonetheless. When you pull apart you smile shyly before reattaching your lips again. Your books both fall from the couch as he slips in between your legs and a smile is fighting its way to your lips. He pushes you further against the couch, hovering over you before leaning down and kissing you again. 

Keep it sweet, keep it slow Let the future pass and don't let go

There wasn’t any want or need. Just simple and innocent bliss. You and Mark had always been like this, slow and easy, calm and sweet. You always felt pure happiness around him.

But tonight I could fall too soon under this beautiful moonlight

Suddenly you’re transformed back to your first date. Mark always had this effect on you, like you were floating and thinking of past times to make you smile. It was a beautiful picnic under the stars that you wouldn’t forget in a billion years. But you're so hypnotizing

You were incredibly nervous. Stumbling on your words and smiling awkwardly but he didn’t seem to mind. The way he continued the conversation with such ease had you in awe. He would look at you with such intense but caring eyes, making sure you knew what you had to say was important. 

It was one of the best nights of your life. 

You've got me laughing while I sing

The topic switched to music and how he was taking singing lessons in hopes of exploring more on his newly found talent. You told him that you loved to sing but haven’t sang in front of anyone in years. 

“Sing for me.” He whispered quietly. 

You looked up at him uncertainly but when he took your hand in his and nodded slightly you knew you could trust him. You started to sing your favorite song and when you look up at him again he makes a funny face causing you to giggle as you sing. 

You've got me smiling in my sleep

You flopped down on your bed after he dropped you off at home that night. You found yourself smiling the entire time getting ready for bed and even through the night as you’re sleeping. You were surprised someone could have such an effect on you. 

And I can see this unraveling Your love is where I'm falling But please don't catch me… 

You woke up the next morning the smile plastered from last night still permanently there. He had an effect on you that you couldn’t understand. You were falling. See this heart won't settle down Like a child running scared from a clown

But you couldn’t be falling right? It was one date and yet you already knew you were in way too deep. You wanted to run as far as possible but you also wanted to run straight into his arms. You weren’t the most experienced in this department and to have this many feelings all at once was a bit scary. You couldn’t quite make sense of it. 

I'm terrified of what you do My stomach screams just when I look at you 

Your brain was telling you no while your heart was screaming yes. Your stomach twirled and your hands shook. You couldn't fall because who would pick up the pieces when he leaves? You had become so used to being alone, to becoming heartbroken you had thought it was inevitable. Was it inevitable with Mark? Or is there a different ending? Run far away so I can breathe Even though you're far from suffocating me

You shake your head to snap yourself out of it. You try to push the thoughts to the back of your head. Running away from your problems seemed easiest at this moment. It was all too new, too difficult to deal with and not enough information to actually get an answer. 

I can't set my hopes too high 'Cause every "Hello" ends with a "Goodbye"

You only thought like this because there are chances of a bad ending but there were chances of a good ending too. You just didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself. But you also couldn’t help yourself. But you're so hypnotizing 

You’re traveled back to your 6 month anniversary. He picked you up at your house, telling you it would be a night you would never forget. As you drive to the first destination you watch him as he focuses intently on the road. One hand intertwined with yours, his thumb running across your knuckles lightly, you couldn’t help but be captivated by his every movement. 

You've got me laughing while I sing

You sing along to the music on the radio when Drag Me Down by One Direction comes on. You look over at Mark and he smiles back at you. You sing as loud as possible with Mark sitting next to you making up random lyrics and making you laugh till you can’t breathe. 

You've got me smiling in my sleep

The night continues on with a beautiful dinner, a walk on the pier, and stargazing. As Mark parks the car in front of your house you notice that it’s almost one in the morning. You couldn’t believe that it’s been that long. The time flew by as you spent it with your love. You knew no matter how long you and Mark would be together, he would always have this fairytale effect on you.

“Do you want to stay over tonight?” You ask shyly. You weren't one to usually ask this but this night was too perfect. You couldn't let it end here. 

He looks surprised before shaking his head yes. We get out of the car and quietly creep into your house and up to your room. You kick off your shoes and climb into your bed as Mark flops down next to you. He opens his arms and gestures to you to snuggle into him and you gladly accept. 

“I love you.” He whispers quietly after a moment. Your heart beats frantically out of your chest at those three simple words. You knew from the moment you met the brown eyed beauty that you loved him, you were just scared. 

“I love you too Mark Fischbach.” 

You snuggle further into his chest trying to hide the smile that is clearly evident on your face. He holds you tight, and you drift off to sleep in his arms.

And I can see this unraveling Your love is where I'm falling But please don't catch me…

You wake up the next morning to an empty space beside you where Mark was just hours ago. You look around to see if he left a note but sadly find nothing. You reach for your phone on the nightstand and check to see a text but you're left empty handed. You try to  shake it off as a simple mistake or he had an emergency and had to leave quickly but after a day passes and you haven't seen, haven’t talked to, and haven’t received one text from Mark you start to worry. 

You knew you shouldn’t have fallen this fast for him when you knew deep down he would eventually leave you in heartbreak. But you couldn’t help being hopeful. At the time, the more you got to know each other, it seemed the ending might changed. Perhaps it was better off this way. So now you see why I'm scared 

You’re pulled out of the memories and back into reality when you hear Mark calling your name. You sit up and he looks at you worriedly. 

“What’s wrong darling?” He asks, cupping your face lightly and searching your eyes for an answer. You take a deep breath and consider what you’re about to say before speaking your mind. 

“Why did you leave that day?” He knows exactly what you’re talking about without having to explain it. 

You two didn’t talk much about that day. Your hearts couldn’t seem to take it. You seemed to have an unspoken trust and took it slow after that day. You just never had closure. It kept you on your toes. 

“What if you leave me again?” You ask suddenly, incapable of holding in your questions any longer. 

“I won’t.” He promises while taking your hands in his. 

“I was broken when you left after you told me you loved me. How can I fully trust you?” You can practically see his heart just shatter at the words. 

I can't open up my heart without a care

“I can’t just let you in,” You whisper. 

“And I can’t let you go,” He answers quietly back. 

His hand finds your cheek again and his thumb brushes lightly across your face. Chills are sent down your spine and your heart settles in your chest. You knew, threw the worst it was still going to be you and him. His lips brush against yours gently and you look up into his warm chocolate brown eyes. 

But here I go, it's what I feel And for the first time in my life I know it's real 

You nod to yourself before attaching your lips once again in a passionate kiss. You melt into him, and he moves closer to you, your heart suddenly speeding up again in the best way possible. But you're so hypnotizing

In one kiss you remember every small detail that you adore about him. His smile, and mesmerizing laugh. The way he throws his head back and hits the closest thing to him when he giggles. 

You've got me laughing while I sing

In one kiss you remember every time he’s ever made you laugh. How you know he tries to make you giggle with stupid jokes when you’re sad. And kisses you to make you laugh as you sing. He’ll do anything to make you smile. 

You've got me smiling in my sleep

That smile. You remember every smile you’ve ever shared. How you catch him staring, and a soft smile spreads across his lips. Or when he has the biggest smile in the world with his eyes crinkling and teeth showing proudly. 

And I can see this unraveling Your love is where I'm falling So please don't catch me

“I love you,” He whispers pressing kisses all over your face. 

“I love you.” 

As you wake up the next morning in his arms you knew you had fallen in love and it was the greatest feeling in the entire world. You had made the best decision to pick the biggest dork to love. And you were lucky that he loved you back. If this is love please don't break me I'm giving up so just catch me

And you know he’ll always be there to catch you.

[rejectedbyeharmony]

The Emotional Rollercoaster

I confronted Elliot about being in his ex-wife’s house and he immediately shame spiraled. His head hung low as he explained that he didn’t know how to tell me it was their house, because it’s “not like that with her” and “we are really good friends now”. He talked me out of my disappointment and back into his good graces. The basic fact that he was completely disrespecting his ex wife by having another woman in the house they once shared never crossed my mind. I wanted badly to be happy with him, so I put my blinders on, threw all rational thought out of the window, and believed every word he said.

Monday came and reality set back in. He told me that he worked in a secure building and he could not even have his cell phone on or with him during the day. This wasn’t weird because this is DC and that’s totally commonplace. But it was weird because the first two weeks we texted all day long. I would sporadically get texts from him, but it really tugged at my heart strings, because I just had a amazing fairytale of a weekend with this man, and then our communication nearly stopped during the next week. I tried to shake this off, historically I have been the kind of girl who needs a lot of attention from her man. This was going to be hard, but I told myself this is a personal growth opportunity to learn to not be so needy.

So I waited impatiently until our next planned date which was the following weekend for Halloween. I told him that I had two parties to go to, and I planned on wearing a unicorn onesie. He said that he had a Cat in the Hat onesie and he would totally be onesie twins with me. Halloween fell on a Saturday that year, so we planned to spend some alone time together Friday night. Friday afternoon, he drove out to Tysons Corner for a meeting. Around 4pm, he called me to say that he was leaving Tysons, he was going home to walk his dog, and then he would meet up with me. I did not hear from him after that.

My friend convinced me to go out with her and some friends that night to get my mind off of him, but I spent the entire time checking my phone. I remembered that he liked to go to the Rockit Grill in Old Town, which was a bar I worked at for many years. Somehow we had never crossed paths, but he loved that place so I thought he might be there. I left my friends and took an Uber to Rockit to see if he was there. I walked deep into the Friday night crowd and didn’t see him, I hung around for about an hour and nervously sipped a few drinks just waiting for him to show up. The awareness of how crazy I was being hit me, and I went to the bathroom to cry. I had a full-on anxiety attack in the bathroom stall while drunk girls knocked on the door asking me if I was ok. I took another Uber home, and cried myself to sleep.

The next day he texted me in the middle of the day apologizing, saying that he fell asleep. I was upset and wasn’t sure how to respond, but I asked him if we were still on for Halloween that night. He assured me that he would be at my house by 830 to pick me up and we would go to both of the parties together. That was the last time I heard from him that day. I didn’t go to either party, I sat home wringing my hands waiting for the phone to ring. I let him ruin my favorite holiday.

I didn’t really understand what was going on, and I tried to just chalk it up to “he’s not that into you.” I’m not so disillusioned in the dating world to think that I am for everyone. I am not perfect, and I have my flaws, and I am no stranger to rejection. But I was so confused how he could run so hot and cold. The next day he was supposed to come over and spend some time with me, and I didn’t hear from him at all. I didn’t hear from him for a few more days. I was beside myself, I really thought that I had met the one. I know this seems crazy and it’s hard for me to explain the connection I had with this man, but through the words that I’ve written my hope is that you, the reader, can somehow understand the type of bond that we forged in just a short period of time. Or maybe me, the writer, will see this from a different angle to help me finally heal. Either way, I wasn’t imagining our bond, it was very real to me.

I finally heard from him. He was in Annapolis, his aunt had died and his parents were in town for the funeral and his dad needed Elliot to help execute the will. His dad spent a lifetime working border patrol but wasn’t the best at matters of business. That was Elliot’s thing, so he stepped up to help. I suddenly felt at ease with the whole thing, and my disappointment went away. This seemed like that completely reasonable explanation you hope for when something unexplainable happens. I felt relief from my own tragedy in understanding the tragedy that his family had experienced. He told me he was really heartbroken because he was very close with this aunt, and I wanted to be there for him. I offered to meet him or spend time with him if he needed a shoulder to cry on. He took me up on it, and came to my house.

He laid on my couch completely overcome with grief and I held him close. I told him that if he wanted to talk he could, or if he just wanted to sit there in silence he could do that too. I was there for him in whatever capacity he needed. He laid his head into my chest and wept for a long time. I felt like this emotion was genuine and that he was working through some grief. He then looked up at me and told me, “I have to admit something to you. I lost one of my best friends the week before we met, and I never really dealt with the grief. Losing my aunt has made that grief compound on me, and that’s why I’m taking this so hard.”

It made complete sense. He was trying to distract himself from his grief by throwing himself into this new relationship, and then suddenly I wondered if this connection that we formed was real at all. Or if it was just something that he was forcing to not have to experience the negative feelings about losing a friend. I should have felt a little used and very upset, but for some reason I felt important. Like I completely missed it.

He stopped calling after that. I made excuses for him in my head about everything he was going through, and he couldn’t possibly make me a priority. But I still texted or left voicemails when I was thinking of him. I decided it was kind of like being in a relationship with a coma patient. I knew he could hear me but couldn’t respond.

After 3 months of radio silence, I decided that it must be over. And I tried to move on. This proved to be much more difficult than I could’ve ever imagined. I tried and failed at dating others, and I found myself constantly comparing them to him because he was exactly what I wanted. He was funny, well-traveled, open-minded, so smart, affectionate, complimentary, successful, and tall! I forgotten what it was like to date someone so tall, and I loved the way his 6’3” made my 5’9” feel tiny. Plus I felt like he got me. I consider myself a pretty misunderstood person a lot who has a hard time deeply connecting with people. I keep most people at arms length to protect myself from them ever seeing the real me, because I’m so terrified that they won’t understand. He seemed to understand me well. He made me feel like I never felt before and it was what I wanted to capture and find again. But I just couldn’t re-create it with somebody else. Until I got a call from prison.

[wellhellsbelles]

Que Será Será

hey, i’m back!!

i’m not sure how easy it will be for me to do other things right now since i’m in my last semester of college, but i had been working on this for a while now and just decided to split it up into two (possibly three? we’ll see) parts, so i wanted to post the first half. the second half will be soon to follow!

thanks for reading!! enjoy :)

ao3 link found here.

//

They're forces of nature—she's push, he's pull; they're drawn together like magnets. And in a world where soulmates exist, that might just mean something.

//

PART ONE

Riley Matthews is five years-old when she first hears about soulmates.

They’re the magic that binds the world, that makes living worth it, and she has living proof of it existing—her parents have each other’s names printed clearly across their respective wrists.

The way her father explains it is with a stern look and, “Something that happens when you’re much, much older.”

The way her mother explains it to her is not as dismissive. In fact, the way she tells her how it works makes her want to dwell on it in her dreams, because it feels like a fairytale.

“Two souls are destined to meet, somewhere in the world, somehow. Like magnets they come together, and then their universes collide like it did at the very beginning. Everyone has this kindred soul that is theirs, and when they find it, they can exist in pure bliss, two halves together as a whole once again.”

From that day on, she dreams of who might be her bonded soul, the person she’s supposed to meet in the future that she can trust to be hers for the rest of her life. She pictures a night in shining armor riding in on a white horse, ready to sweep her away just like in the books her mother reads to her at night.

She trusts she’ll find it. After all, her mother told her she would, and although she has many years until it happens, she can wait for that special someone.

//

Farkle Minkus is seven years-old when he meets Riley Matthews, and he doesn’t know what to think of her.

She seems to accept him for who he is, doesn’t think that his quirks are weird and off-putting. He admires that greatly, and despite the fact that Riley is quite the unique individual herself, he’d rather remain alongside her than spend his recesses reading science books under a tree like he has since he started school.

She smiles at him and it’s warm like the sun, pure and unadulterated happiness. She dances circles around him, makes pinky promises that only exist between the two of them and has him watch clouds with her when they’re particularly fluffy out. And then she tells him of her story she’s made up for the day of how she’s going to meet her soulmate, and Farkle listens attentively but only holds the idea with a grain of salt.

He thinks the whole “soulmate” thing isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.

Of course, he is only seven, so his knowledge is only limited to seven trivial years of personal experience plus the books his dad offers him each day, the ones filled with science and math that absolutely fascinate him.

Farkle knows science, and science can’t account for soulmates. Riley says it’s magic, but Farkle highly doubts that. Science doesn’t account for magic, either, but then he remembers that he knows Riley, and that’s enough proof for him.

For now.

//

Riley is thirteen years old when she meets Lucas, and he becomes her everything.

When she pictured her soulmate when she was younger, he’s exactly what she imagined—a daring, brave young man with blue eyes that could pierce a hole into her heart with just one look. She falls on his lap on the subway by ‘accident’ (read: Maya), but when she extends her hand out to introduce herself and he shakes it, she feels as if the cosmos fated them to meet, and her skin sparks with an electricity unlike any other.

This is it, she tells herself. This is him.

Riley can’t explain how she knows; she just knows. When she tells Maya this, Maya glances at her, amused, but she doesn’t tell her that she’s wrong. Maya doesn’t trust the system but she trusts Riley, and that’s all that matters. They’re thunder and lightning and they’re always on the same side, no matter what.

Farkle, however, is a little harder to convince.

When he’s not busy spouting science facts, he’s showering her and Maya with affection, but really it’s the only way he knows how to interact with them now. They’re growing up; Riley gets it. He’s always been a little shy, a little unknowing of the world he’s been placed in.

But Riley tells him Lucas is the one, and he laughs.

She’s mad at first. Righteously infuriated, because he’s supposed to be her best friend!

They’ve always clashed when it comes to beliefs, though, and after a few days of radio silence between them, Farkle apologizes, but Riley does, too. She’s known him for what feels like forever, and he’s never been one to change his own beliefs just because of his emotional connection to somebody; he knows what he believes and he sticks to his principles firmly, and Riley can’t fault him for that. That’s an aspect of himself that he’s never hidden, and she wouldn’t want him to.

In fact, she praises him for his ability to stay true to himself.

But he supports her and Lucas, and that’s all she really cares about. Not what he thinks of soulmates, not what he believes, but his unfailing, unwavering loyalty to her no matter what.

That’s all that really matters.

//

Farkle is fourteen when he starts dating Isadora Smackle. He doesn’t quite understand feelings but he knows that when he looks at her goofy face, his heart soars in a way that he’s never experienced before—but he’s willing to test this experiment out and see where it goes.

Isadora is just like him—she doesn’t buy into the whole ‘soulmate’ thing like most people do. She believes in numbers and science, and that those are the guiding forces of their universe. When she says that, Farkle thinks that, if he were ever to be certain about emotions and how they work, then he’d want to marry her on the spot.

Isadora lights him aflame. There’s this thing in his chest that he feels every single time he looks at her, and words seem to fail him each time he casts his eyes upon her deep, earthy brown irises that seem to hold the answers to the universe in them. He’s never been one to speak in metaphor, but it’s lighting, being with her.

He runs his relationship like an experiment; there’s theory behind everything he does. He knows she doesn’t much appreciate physical affection, so he always asks for permission before he takes the next step in his research. He’ll notice her fingers twitch at her side sometimes, and he creates a hypothesis—what if he took her hand in his? That would certainly stop the twitching.

So he does. He confirms his hypothesis. Isadora is warm, and that confirms another hypothesis of his.

It comforts him that a relationship is also a science because he can deal with science. He couldn’t handle it if he believed that soulmates worked; the probability of Isadora being his would, firstly, be very . . . low. There’s approximately seven billion people in the world. The chance of her being his is a discomforting figure, and he doesn’t believe in it anyway.

There’s a solace in science, so he lets it rule his feelings, and it works out well for him.

That, he can believe in.

//

Riley is eighteen years old when she graduates high school.

It’s almost unbelievable, how quickly it all passed her by. It was like her childhood has been the blink of an eye, the ripping of a band-aid. It happens so fast you can’t even process it, you don’t even have the chance to experience any emotions about it until after.

She’s learned a lot during her four years of high school. She and Lucas broke up halfway into Sophomore year, and that was the biggest hurdle Riley had to overcome. She spent so long hoping that he was her forever person, that someone meant to belong to her and only her, but the more she thought about it, the less it made sense to her.

Riley found herself not feeling that electricity, the spark having long since fizzled out of existence. It no longer felt like they were fated to be, and allure faded and gave way to reality. She pushed it away for so long, wanted so badly for the truth she had conjured up herself to not be a lie. But her and Lucas weren’t compatible in the way they were when they were thirteen; that was the unwanted yet undeniable infallibility.

The breakup was messy, but long-needed. They remained friends, but her heart would still ache for him sometimes when she’d catch him in a certain light, remembering what it once felt like to have him feel like he was hers forever.

Maya was there for her, though, still is. She made sure to be there in whatever capacity Riley needed, and Riley couldn’t believe she had been so blessed. Even Farkle stuck through it with her, despite their small fallout after his and Smackle’s breakup, and they became closer than ever.

She’s just as blessed to have him, too.

Age had changed him; she still misses his quirky mannerisms and vivid turtlenecks. But this Farkle, her Farkle now, is the version she prefers. She’d prefer him in any which way he presented himself, because he’s him. He’s her Farkle; always will be.

He knows what she needs without her expressing it, and every time she looks at him, her heart would thrum in a manner corresponding only to the sight of Farkle, her dearest friend. Farkle’s always a phone call or a text away, ready to swing through the window of her room and be there in any way she needs him to. He somehow always knows when she’s not herself, even if she doesn’t notice it herself right away.

And that’s why he appears at her side on the balcony at their graduation party, a flute of sparkling white grape juice in hand and a quirk of the mouth present at the sight of her.

“Hiding out?”

A smile rises to her face as she recognizes him, bubbly excitement welling in the pit of her stomach, along with another bit of something, a something she can’t quite comprehend, not yet.

“Thinking,” she answers him, patting the railing of the balcony, beckoning him over beside her. Farkle does so without hesitation, sighing when he’s in place.

“Yeah,” he nods, knowing fully what she means without her having to express it. “I’ve been doing that a lot lately, too.”

His fingers reach up to muss his hair about, and Riley almost reaches out to stop him because she’s been admiring the way it’s been gelled all day. She withdraws at the last second, curling her fingers back into her palm and resting the hand at her side.

“You ready?” he presses after a moment of silence from her. Riley shrugs.

“I’m not sure. I know what I want, don’t get me wrong, but something about it feels . . . off. Maybe it’s because you and Maya are going to completely separate colleges from me,” she adds at the last moment. Farkle raises a brow at her.

“You do know it’s a thirty-minute drive between our colleges?”

Riley wants to tell him that that’s not enough, that she needs him by her side every waking moment of every day. She wants to tell him that she needs him in such a way that it scares her to even consider it, in such a way that she’s tried so hard to push out of her realm of thinking. But she’s got all summer to enjoy being around him, and she knows better than to think that they’ll ever drift apart, because they won’t.

He’s her Farkle; she’s his Riley. That’s how they are, what they are to each other.

“We’ll make it work,” she agrees, tucking a lock of hair behind her own ear. “Because we’re Farkle and Riley. Nothing in the universe could stop us.”

“Not even if it tried,” he says, stealing a swig of the sparkling grape juice.

“It wouldn’t even dare,” Riley finishes, the words a truth escaping her lips, probably the most truthful thing she might ever say.

Because she would never let anything break them apart. He’s her rock, and nothing can shatter that. Not even time.

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Folklore Friday Saturday

Brace up, Howard Phillips Lovecraft. I'm about to arguably mangle one of your short stories in the retelling, for which I shall doubtless feel not the vaguest hint of remorse.

Warning: there will be spoilers if you've never read the story yourself.

The Statement of Randolph Carter

If you've listened to any of The Magnus Archives, you may imagine Jon Simms reading this. I'm sorry to inform you that the statements delivered to the Archives have more credibility to them than that of Mr. Carter. Bless whatever patient soul is taking his statement.

Statement Begins.

Carter is trying to explain why he and a guy named Warren were witnessed breaking into an old cemetery. His defense for most of it is "Warren made me do it!"

No really. He goes on for like a whole paragraph about how Warren is the friend who always bullied him and he was too scared to say no to helping in his research. Which appears to have been vaguely related to Frankenstein's.

Carter is extremely vague about this. He says something about like, Warren wanting to know why some bodies in ancient mausoleums weren't decaying. Idk dude, they were probably airtight until you got your grubby little hands in there.

So Warren drags Carter out to the cemetery with lanterns, shovels, and -- get this -- telephone wire and receivers. Which they're going to lower into the tomb. So they can talk to each other. Howard, I don't think that's how telephones work.

Warren makes this huge speech about how Carter is a scaredy-cat and a "bundle of nerves", and how he sees such horrible things in his tomb desecration trips that it would be a crime to chuck Carter in there. It sounded way too much like Tom Sawyer conning his friends into whitewashing the fence to take seriously. So apparently Randolph Carter is super gullible, because he takes that hook, line, and sinker.

So Warren goes down and, as I'd suspected he would, starts babbling on the telephone that inexplicably works about what ghastly things he's discovered. Does he describe them? No. But does Carter hear them?

Also no.

This whole time, we have nothing to rely on but the word of a guy Carter already told us is a bully. So when he starts whooping and hollering about how Carter needs to run for his life, and wailing about "I'm done for", it's...not terribly convincing.

Given Carter's temperament, however, he grows increasingly panicked. Especially when Warren screams and then goes silent. After a while, some voice he insists is "gelatinous" (omg Howard, what does that even mean? You overuse that word like a toddler with a jar of glitter!) The voice informs him that Warren is dead and Carter presumably runs screaming.

End Statement.

I can almost guarantee that this secretly ended with Warren climbing out of the tomb, laughing his butt off.

[radioactivepeasant]

This Week's Prompt Schedule:

Tuesday: Transformers Tuesday

Friday: Folklore Friday variant: picking one HP Lovecraft story to retell badly and without remorse

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Folklore Friday

It’s time, once again, for a round of Radio Explains Fairytales Badly!

As usual, this is all in one “take”, so I glance at the source material and then try to explain it from memory. There may be some mixing of other variations of this story. Here we go:

So to begin with, there’s this rich man called Bluebeard, because his beard is literally blue. He is not, in fact, a pirate. Years ago, when I first came across this tale, Kid Radio was rather disappointed to learn that he was only a rich guy with a bizarre hair color. And for whatever reason, the society he’s in has decided that having a beard the color of Cookie Monster = frighteningly ugly. Because fairytale logic, I guess. Either that or there’s just something about him that people find off-putting.

Now, Bluebeard decides he wants to get married. But for the above reasons, none of the young women want to come near him and none of their families are comfortable with his requests to court them. He ends up setting his sights on one particular young woman -- the youngest daughter of a family, because being the youngest in a fairytale generally means you’re destined for at least one adventure that’s got a 50/50 chance of either being wonderful or awful. 

The girl’s family is Really Not Sure about this guy with facial hair like an anime character. But their financial situation is not the best, and Bluebeard takes advantage of this fact to start flaunting his wealth around like “Oooh, see how rich I am? I can totally provide for your daughter! And I’d take care of my in-laws, too!”

Youngest Daughter (I don’t remember if she has a name or not tbh, so I’m going to call her Kira for no particular reason) gets to thinking that, as a younger daughter in a struggling economy, she’s not likely to get much in the way of inheritance. Marrying this Bluebeard fella could be good upward mobility for her. She just...can’t get over the facial hair. She spends a couple days trying to talk herself into believing it’s not actually blue.

Like, she’s walking around muttering “Well maybe it’s actually a shade of grey, and we’re just seeing it in the wrong light.”

And her older sister, who’s seeing some Red Flags, says, “No, I’m pretty sure it’s blue.”

“But maybe it’s just so black that it looks blue?”

“Nah, he looks like he shampoos with blue raspberry Hawaiian Punch.”

Well eventually the parents and the younger daughter decide that it would be best for Kira to just marry Bluebeard. It should be noted that Kira’s older sister and her give or take seven brothers are all quite opposed to this. So when she leaves to marry Bluebeard and live with him (in the house next door, coincidentally), they make sure to tell Kira to talk to them every night from the window that faces the sister’s window.

So Kira is shown this lavish mansion and Bluebeard tells her “You have the run of this place, but don’t go into any locked rooms. I have to leave for business for a few days, but I’m giving you a master key. Make sure it stays clean and shiny.”

And Kira either doesn’t think this is weird or she doesn’t care. She takes the key, Bluebeard skips out, and she gets to exploring.

I would like to point out at this juncture that whole “forbidden room” thing pops up a lot in fairytales, usually when the protagonist is female. (Bluebeard has it, the variant “Fitcher’s Bird” has it, heck, even Disney’s Beauty and the Beast uses the trope with the West Wing). There are occasionally male variations though, and the first one that comes to mind is in Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Jonathan Harker finds himself in the role usually played by the female protagonist while in Dracula’s castle, and his host warns him away from rooms with closed or locked doors. Harker’s curiosity gets the better of him, following the usual trope, and it leads to a very unfortunate discovery and a narrow escape from death. I just thought that was interesting. (I wish I’d remembered this in college. I would’ve added it to my thesis paper on folklore archetypes in Dracula and how they shifted from their sources.)

Kira finds a lot of beautiful rooms, and amuses herself for a day or two with things like music rooms, libraries, gardens, etc. And in the evening, she goes to her bedroom window and tells her sister about her day. But there’s one locked door, of course, and her curiosity eventually gets the better of her. Naturally, this leads to a gruesome discovery.

It turns out everyone’s impressions of Bluebeard are right on the money. Kira has unwittingly married a straight-up serial killer who preys on human curiosity as his M.O. The room the key unlocks is filled with the butchered corpses of Bluebeard’s past wives. There are a lot of them. 

A side note: I think we can guess now where Bluebeard’s wealth really came from if these were all the daughters of influential families.

Kira is, of course, shocked. Who wouldn’t be? She drops the key -- the one Bluebeard told her to keep clean -- in a puddle of blood. Which hasn’t dried because...fairytale logic, I guess. Honestly it shouldn’t have been fresh unless magic was involved, because those women had to have been dead for a while, or else people would’ve been like “Wait, Bluebeard, why are you looking for a bride, weren’t you just married?”

Kira panics and tries to clean the blood off the key, but the darn thing is enchanted, and the more she scrubs, the more stubborn the bloodstain gets. And then, of course, Bluebeard comes home. Whether or not he was actually on a business trip is debatable. He might’ve just been hiding out, waiting for his next victim to discover his previous victims. Bluebeard waltzes in and asks to see the key. Kira pretends to have misplaced it, and her creepy new husband announces that since she broke the rules, she has to die now.

The sister, discovering that her misgivings were justified, says, “Hang on, our big brothers will be home in like, five minutes. Keep stalling while I send my husband up the road to tell them to hurry the heck up.”

Presumably he either planned this from the beginning, or was hoping he’d get an oblivious wife who could inadvertently cover for him while he kept up with his serial killer activities. Either way, now he wants to kill her to make sure nobody else finds out about the Murder Room. Kira begs him to let her pray before she dies. A sort of a last request. And inexplicably, Bluebeard says okay.

I don’t know, maybe he figured she had nowhere to run to. Or that there was no way for her to fight back. Regardless, he lets her go up to her room, and she immediately goes to the window and calls for her sister.

They drag Bluebeard out into the courtyard between the houses and kill him while the sisters watch in grim satisfaction, and then Kira takes possession of the house and presumably gives the other victims a proper burial. And that’s the end of Bluebeard and his career as a serial killer.

Bluebeard starts to get impatient, and bangs on the door once or twice. Each time, Kira is like, “Rude! Do you normally like to interrupt people during prayers?”

Increasingly frustrated, after about the third or fourth time Bluebeard finally figures out that Kira is just stalling for time. He starts to bash the door in so he can just drag her out of the room and kill her. Unfortunately for Bluebeard, however, Kira’s seven brothers and one brother-in-law have reached the mansion and broken in. Heavily armed. 

Some think this story had origins in the “pressure wives to be obedient to any little arbitrary rule their husbands decide” kind of culture, but others aren’t so sure, seeing as the protagonist decides not to blindly accept the rules, and then gets away in the end.

There’s this one variation I read as a kid called Fitcher’s Bird. In that one, there are no brothers with swords who come to the rescue. Instead, the youngest sister does it all. First the Bluebeard character marries the eldest daughter, and instead of a key he gives her an egg she’s supposed to carry with her and keep clean. Eldest Sister, of course, discovers the Murder Room and gets blood on the egg. She ends up joining the occupants of the room. Middle Sister marries the Bluebeard next (because apparently her family and the neighbors don’t see anything suspicious about this) and meets the same fate as her elder sister. Youngest Sister marries the guys specifically to find out what happened to her sisters and whether or not she needs to do anything about it.

She puts the egg on a pillow in her room and goes exploring without it. Can’t get the egg dirty if you don’t take it with you, after all. She finds the Murder Room, and then literally pieces her sisters back together. Because apparently she has magic, and the Bluebeard character should be afraid, very afraid now. Youngest Sister brings her two sisters back to life and then tricks her evil husband into taking them back to their family unawares by smuggling them in a basket of gold he’s supposed to give her parents. The Bluebeard can’t figure out a way to trick her into getting the egg dirty so he can kill her, and Youngest Sister goes on outwitting him several times before he eventually meets the fate a Bluebeard must. The Youngest Sister then, I think, brings all his other victims back to life, and they live off his riches as well they should.

[radioactivepeasant]

Today's Folklore Friday will be up late this afternoon, just a heads-up

It's going to be one of my "Radio Explains Fairytales Badly" episodes. Bluebeard, as it happens. Who is not, in fact, a pirate, as a younger Radio was disappointed to learn.

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Folklore Friday

Now, I’ve seen many variations of this story over the years, some shorter, some longer. But most of them keep the same main elements. I found myself sort of retelling this tale to my mom last week in my usual (slightly off-kilter) way, and figured “Ah what the heck, let’s do that for Folklore Friday!”

So here, with neither explanations nor apologies, is my “all in one take” retelling of one of the versions of The Golden Goose.

It starts, as a lot of fairytales start, with a family made up of one parent and three sons. And the older two are somewhat pompous fellows, while the youngest does not meet their arguably subjective measure of “intelligence” and is tormented. Sometimes the story gets moving because the single parent says “Alright, you three are too old to be living in my basement. Get a job!” and sends them off with a slowly decreasing quality of picnic lunch.

In this case, dear old ma or pa or whoever has been looking after these three just needs some wood for the fire. Off goes Eldest Brother, with some kind of wine and cheese meal that frankly, makes no sense if he’s just going to chop wood. He meets an Old Man By The Wayside archetype, who is...probably Gentry. I’m just saying. Hangs around the woods and causes misfortune for those who slight him. 

Or he’s just petty and lucky about it.

Eldest Brother does what most fairytale Eldest Brothers do: When the old man asks for food, he says “Nah,” and flaunts his fancy food.

And then promptly encounters a grave injury when inexplicably his ax turns on him while woodchopping. Mysteriously. No witnesses present to confirm or deny the presence or involvement of a mysterious man by the wayside.

-- a caveat, I do sort of wonder whether all these stories where the eldest two siblings meet catastrophe in proportion to how they treat people they perceive as beneath them might have been some kind of wish-fulfillment for narrators who saw themselves in the youngest sibling. Like maybe some epic sibling rivalries and “ahahaha I am eldest therefore I inherit the land while you must be apprenticed to Oldman Browne who drinks like a fish” kind of stuff was going on. Who knows. --

Somehow or other, Eldest Brother gets home without dying, and their parent is like “Oh well, guess I’ll send out Middle Brother.”

So off Middle Brother goes, with a slightly lower quality lunch and ax than his brother. Guess what he does?

Old Man by the Wayside turns up, asks for some food for a poor hungry traveler, and Middle Brother starts screeching about handouts.

You can guess how well that turned out for him.

Exasperated parent -- who should probably be more concerned about two sons with hatchet injuries and probably also a sudden inexplicable fear of old men in the woods -- sends out the third son, who usually has a very demeaning nickname, so we’ll just call him Tom. Now, I’ve noticed that in a lot of fairytales (and I’ve read a lot), female leads who aren’t old enough to marry win their adventures by being kind and thinking on their feet. Male protagonists, marrying age or not, seem to have a pattern of winning by a mix of thinking on their feet and sheer dumb luck. Like seriously, most of these guys have no business still being alive after some of the stunts they pull. All that to say, I always like when the male protagonist is also set apart by kindness. 

Case in point, Tom meets the Old Man by the Wayside who...apparently has nothing better to do than haunt the woods and test people’s manners. And even though his parent gave him like, a canteen half full of water and some stale bread, because he is definitely not the favorite child, Tom says “Hey, you look hungry, want some of my lunch? It’s awful, but it’s also food.”

And of course his Act of Kindness deserves a reward! Either that, or the Old Man is one of the Gentry and he doesn’t want to be indebted, so he’s making a trade. Or he’s just really eccentric and Tom happened to be the lucky contestant of the day. Whichever it is, the Old Man directs him to one specific tree, and says “just chop that one down. Forget about the others.”

Tom, apparently, sees no reason to question this.

So the tree is chopped down, and there’s an actual goose with feathers that look like they’re made of gold right there in the middle of the tree stump, like the Lorax, but as an angry metallic waterfowl.

Tom doesn’t question that, either.

But he picks it up, thinks, “Hey, this thing is pretty neat,” and decides to take his show on the road.

It is unknown whether his family ever got the firewood they needed. Tom was on a roll, apparently, and was off to seek his fortune. Which is fairytale speak for “I’m moving out.”

We’ll come back to Tom in a minute.

Now, in this little kingdom, we’ve got a king who apparently only has one kid, and it’s a daughter who doesn’t laugh, or smile. And the king has tried everything short of actually talking to her, no doubt, to solve the problem. The problem in this case might very well have been him not listening, but this is a fairytale king, and I’ve noticed that they do have the occasional tendency towards obliviousness.

In some versions, he takes drastic measures because he wants her to smile again. In other versions, he goes “Ahem ahem, I’m not getting any younger, and I’d sure like it if you got married.”

Probably both so he can put a male on the throne because oh noooo a queendom? *clutches pearls*. Or he could also just be the type who is obnoxiously pushy about wanting grandchildren. Frankly, it could be both or either.

“I know,” says the king, “I’ll put out a proclamation. Whoever can make the princess laugh will win her hand in marriage.”

Now, our girl isn’t going to take that sitting down, so she exercises what little control over the situation she has. “Fine,” she says, “But if he fails, he loses his head.” 

And the king considers this for a moment and says, “Alright, fair enough.”

That’ll deter anyone who isn’t really serious about this, at least. Might ruffle some feathers with the neighbors, though. But she isn’t outright disagreeing with the idea, so he decides to compromise.

(This part I have also seen in other fairytales, and I suspect the version of Golden Goose I saw with it was a combination of several similar Aarne-Thompson tropes)

This is low risk for the princess, as far as she’s concerned. She’s very good at keeping a straight face, and she’s not terribly concerned about the oncoming flood of power hungry nobles who think they’re funny.

“But dear,” says the king, “There’s so many nice men who could make you laugh if you really tried. You won’t know until you give them a chance!”

And every woman in a four foot radius who’s had to endure some guy telling them “You’d be prettier if you smiled” says “Oh honey,” in a pitying voice.

It’s okay, the king will figure it out later.

And this is where we jump back to Tom, who has kept himself busy in the meantime.

Tom, on his way around town doing who-knows-what, stops at an inn for the night with his golden goose that apparently has deigned to keep him company. And of course, a living bird with feathers made of actual gold is something that kind of tends to get noticed. So while Tom is sleeping, one ambitious maid (or stablehand, or innkeeper’s daughter, or innkeeper, the order varies by retelling) sneaks in like a creeper and tries to pluck one of the goose’s tailfeathers. Which, really. That’s just mean. 

Only, the would-be thief just...sticks to the goose. Like it spread epoxy on itself like a beauty mask before bed. Tom wakes up when the goose starts making a (justified) unholy racket and says “Huh. Well this is a problem. Let go of my goose!”

“I can’t,” says the maid, and Tom doesn’t seem to believe her.

Well, he’ll just leave, he thinks, and she’ll have to let go. Except she doesn’t. And the innkeeper’s wife sees her and says, “Hey! Leave the customer alone!” 

She reaches out to grab the maid and...sticks.

Apparently this is a Transferable Misfortune by way of tactile contact.

The innkeeper himself isn’t sure what’s going on, but this young fella is walking out the door with his wife and one of the maids in tow and that isn’t going to fly. So he runs out after them and tries to pull his decidedly disgruntled wife away and...

Sticks.

This goes on for a bit. A vicar, a sheriff, probably a couple kids, someone’s dog, probably, everybody gets stuck in the world’s most unconventional conga line. And all the while, Tom is pretty weirded out, but hey, it’s kind a funny, and serve them right for tormenting his poor goose. 

Said goose may or may not be entirely too smug about the whole affair. 

But of course, it’s awfully hard to get anything done when you’re dragging fifteen people in a conga line behind you, and Tom sort of wanders around for a bit, trying to figure out what to do. He doesn’t really want to leave his goose with these people, after all.

Which brings us back to our increasingly irritated princess. She’s put up with a lot so far. The addition of the “failure results in decapitation” fine print certainly narrowed down a lot of the contestants who were more interested in her father’s power than her. Or who would treat it like a game. But there’s been about three decapitations so far and ten guys in the dungeon anyway.

Oddly, six of those dungeon-tenants weren’t even trying to go for her hand in marriage. They just wanted to kickstart a comedy career. (Someone will smuggle them out later, when this brouhaha is over.)

The princess has had just about enough of all this nonsense, and at this point she’s pretty sure that absolutely no one in this kingdom understands her own, somewhat bizarre sense of humor. If she could find just one person with the same tastes as her, she’d give a political marriage a shot if she absolutely had to. At least they’d have something to talk about.

Well after about an hour, the most horrendous cacophony starts up outside. The princess looks out her window and sees a fella about her age towing some fifteen people and a couple animals behind him, most of them stuck walking in very awkward poses. He looks up and happens to see her staring at him.

“Help, please,” he says plaintively.

Castle folk are supposed to be educated, right? Someone here probably knows how to unstick these people from his new pet.

The goose hisses and makes several very alarming sounds, and Tom nods sadly. “Same,” he says.

And that’s what makes our princess laugh. Reportedly, she laughs until she cries, and the king is thoroughly bewildered -- both by the laughing and the Unconventional Conga Line outside -- but a deal’s a deal and he realizes he made a very foolish proclamation because he doesn’t know a darned thing about this guy who’s probably going to marry his daughter.

No one ever says how or if the people get unstuck from the goose. In other variations of the story from other countries, sometimes all it takes is Tom saying “goose, let them go”. Sometimes the bird is a swan, in which case, all the swans I’ve ever met were kind of mean and this one probably could’ve let those people go any time it wanted to. 

In other variations, the king says, “Wait! This guy is nobody, I don’t want the princess to marry him when I could pick someone of noble blood!” and devises several impossible tasks while the princess rolls her eyes and says “well now I’m gonna marry him just out of spite.”

Either way, Tom and the Princess usually end up marrying, and presumably happily ever after.

But if nobody ever got unstuck from the goose, and nobody addressed the guys the king executed for not making the princess laugh, then there was probably some unrest in that kingdom, so one hopes Tom and the Princess moved out.

The end.

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Folklore Friday

Today's "Retelling Fairytales Badly": Hop O My Thumb/Thumbling. As usual, done all in one take without referencing the source material.

Despite what you'd think by the title, this story has nothing to do with Tom Thumb or Thumbelina.

(Heads up, some TW in this one. TW for abandonment and death)

Okay yes, the protagonist is said to have been no bigger than a man's thumb at birth, but considering he spends the rest of the story only slightly smaller than his six brothers, it was probably shorthand for "this kid was born premature and we're not used to babies that small". And the kid is just kind of short but also very clever.

But no, this isn't a Thumbelina variation. It's actually more of a Hansel and Gretel plot archetype.

See, Thumbling's parents are not what we'd call the Parents of the Year.

First of all, they named their youngest child Thumbling.

Secondly, after raising seven sons -- seven -- to be roughly between six and ten years old (guessing several were twins or triplets) they just decided "Nah, parenting is too hard. Times are scarce so we'll just dump ALL SEVEN of them in the WOLF INFESTED FOREST because our comfort and whims are much more important than theirs."

Just like Hansel and Gretel (suggesting perhaps an older oral folktale both became conflated with), Thumbling is like "Forget that, hey boys, help me lay a trail of white pebbles to follow home."

And just like Hansel and Gretel, the Worst Parents Ever decide next time they just have to try harder and make sure there's no pesky rocks to lead their victims home. This time the boys only have breadcrumbs, which is a bad idea in the forest where there are many things that eat breadcrumbs.

Ants, for instance. Or birds. Maybe squirrels. Possibly a Gingerbread Witch who's down on her luck and needs ingredients to make a house.

Thumbling and company decide to climb some trees, just in case of wolves, which is actually quite sensible. While they're up there, one of them spots a house and Thumbling climbs higher to get a better look.

The good news is the house is not gingerbread or inhabited by a witch with anthropophagous tendencies.

The bad news is the house is inhabited by two ogres with anthropophagous tendencies.

The worse news is that the boys can't discern the ogres' dietary inclinations just from squinting at them out of a tree.

Either Thumbling (I can't keep typing that, y'all. We're calling him Tee from now on) wasn't there the night they were telling cautionary tales like Red Riding Hood, or he wasn't listening, because he convinces his older brothers that the house is the safer option compared to sleeping in a tree. So down they go and knock at this ogre couple's door. To the ogres, this was, I presume, about like having a box of McNuggets knock on your door right after dinner. But they're not going to look a gift McNugget in the mouth, not when they have seven little ogres of their own to feed.

Alright, fair warning: this is where it gets messed-up. Because while Tee and his brothers are in a story about not trusting strangers and surviving by your wits, the ogres are in a story more akin to Greek myths, where betraying the laws of hospitality has horrific consequences. TW under the cut.

(TW child death. Always hated this part as a kid)

The ogre and his wife decide to put the boys up for the night in their kids' room. Inexplicably, wee ogres are about the same size as human kids. I guess they hit their growth spurt later. Most likely it was just narrative convenience to explain away the ogre's really terrible night vision.

Mrs. Ogre puts the boys in seven little sleeping bonnets to distinguish them from the ogrelets, who all have seven little crowns. That doesn't seem comfortable to sleep in, but granted, they are ogres. Their idea of comfort is probably different than a human’s. They plan to sneak in while the kids are all sleeping and bludgeon the boys.

Tee doesn't trust the ogres as far as he can throw them, which is smart. He doesn't know what's up with the crowns and bonnets, but he figures if he swaps everyone's hats, it'll at least buy them some time to run if anything goes down. Unfortunately, he's right, and his childish solution has tragic side effects. Ogre comes in later with his complete lack of night vision and feels around for who has crowns and who has bonnets.

Because apparently he can't even remember who got put in what bed.

Tee and his brothers wake up when the ogre bludgeons the wrong set of seven. They make their horrified escape just as the ogre and his wife realize their terrible mistake.

Never thought that was fair as a child. The seven ogrelets didn't even know Thumbling and Company existed! It wasn't their fault.

You know what? No. Heck that. I'm the narrator and what I say goes. Nobody dies in this retelling!

Ogrelets have to be made of sturdy stuff considering how gnarly growth spurts must be for them. So we'll just say the seven tots were COMPLETELY FINE but also VERY TICKED OFF at their old dad, who has some explaining to do.

To escape a very annoyed wife who's like "why didn't you take a lamp?! We literally have them all over the house! HOW DO YOU FORGET WHICH BED YOU PUT WHICH KIDS IN?" And his seven ogrelets with ice packs and grudges, Ogre puts on his magical Seven League Boots and goes chasing after Tee and The Boys.

The Boys have found a cave in the meantime, that is much too small for Ogre to even see into. One can only hope it's also too small for wolves, because those didn't go away, they still live in the woods. Regardless, the Boys camp out in there like "Well I guess we have crown theft and assault and battery on our consciences now".

Tee, being like, six or seven, has a more Peter Pan mentality of "Well that was an intense game! What should we do next?"

Ogre is out all night looking for Tee's gang, and conveniently decides to sleep outdoors next to the cave.

Given how justifiably mad his wife is, I do understand why he's choosing to sleep outside, but right next to the cave? That's "suddenly a hunter walked by Red Riding Grandma's house" levels of Convenient. But it's a fairytale so we'll just pretend there's nothing weird about that.

Tee gets a idea: Ogre can't chase them nearly as quickly without those Seven League Boots. So he tells his brothers to run for home -- ignoring the fact that they're here because home was not a safe place to be in the first place -- because he has Another Idea.

"Tee no," We hope the eldest brothers said.

"Tee yes," we resignedly know Thumbling responded.

So once his brothers tiptoe past the snoring Ogre, Tee somehow manages to pry the Seven League Boots off of him. Nobody ever explains how. This dude is roughly the size of an elephant and this tiny kid just yoinks his boots off without waking him up. And these boots, being magic, just automatically resize themselves to Tee's tiny feet, which is decidedly useful if you need to share shoes with six siblings.

The kid decides "hey I could use these shoes to get rich!" And just leaves the ogre there.

How a tiny kid with magic boots gets rich, I don't know. But eventually he comes home with money and his Terrible Parents have to live with the knowledge that the kids they tried to abandon could turn on them at any moment and they'd only have themselves to blame. The kids, on the other hand, live happily ever after.

And the ogrelets will never let their dad live this down. Never.

[radioactivepeasant]

This is still my favorite "explain fairytales badly" post

Fic Prompts: Folklore Friday

 So, I had four votes last week for “Radio explains a fairytale badly”. Which means we’re going to get a mangled retelling of The Giant Who Had No Heart in His Body. Or,

Local Giant Decides Cardiovascular Systems Are For Chumps

___________________________________________

Okay, so a disclaimer, this post is based on a video I took of myself retelling the story, because I needed a pretend audience to get my narrative flow going. I did this all in one take. Therefore some details may not match the original. Be forewarned: This post will be long.

___________________________________________

The story doesn’t actually begin with the giant, he kind of shows up later.

It actually starts with a king who had seven sons. Which, you know, seven tends to be a significant number in a lot of fairytales, so seven sons is kind of a big deal. (Y’know, like how if you’re a seventh son of a seventh son, you sometimes have The Sight, and you can see faeries. Which isn’t necessarily a good thing, they don’t always like that, but I digress)

So you’ve got this king with his seven sons, and most of them are old enough to run off and get married. Considering fairytales, that’s probably their late teens, early twenties, who knows. 

So six of the seven go off looking for brides. And the seventh, the youngest – who, simply by dint of being youngest in a fairytale is already slated for some kind of adventure. Not necessarily a good adventure, but definitely an adventure – decides “Hey, I’m gonna go get a girlfriend too!”

And his dad says, “Ah, no. No you’re not. You’re the youngest, and I’m not sending all seven of my boys out into the world at the same time. You’re staying home with Dad!”

This is a good decision, tactically. If typical fairytale luck holds and Bad Things happen to Eldest Sons, then dear old dad still has an heir to the throne.

Seventh Son is kind of miffed, but he says “Okay, Dad,” because when your dad is the king, you probably don’t get an option to say no.

So the six brothers head out and the king says, “Okay, so, I’m keeping your little brother home. Just so you know. So, y’know, it’d be nice if you guys kind of found a nice girl for him to marry. I trust your judgment mostly.”

“Alright, Dad,” they say, “We’ll see what we can do.”

Keep reading

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Folklore Friday

This week, on Radio Explains Fairytales Badly: Snow White and Rose Red

Now this is not, as my childhood self had once assumed, a sequel to Snow White. There just happens to be a girl in this story with the same name.

There's these two twin(?) sisters named Snow White and Rose Red. One of them has black hair, the other does not.

I have no idea which is which.

In one version I've seen, the sisters are like, 11 or 12 years old and live with their mother in a cottage in the woods. But in another version I've read, they live alone and are in their late teens. I'm going with the Tween Character set today because that makes part of the ending more logical to me. More on that later.

Winter comes to the forest, and Snow and Rose's usual wandering is curtailed by the weather. This is disappointing for them, because they've lived in the forest all their lives and are so accustomed to nature that they tend to sleep in the woods as often as not. Evidently the forest animals are comfortable enough with them to be like "that's not a real great den, but okay, you do you" instead of "human!! In my territory!! Must defend my territory!"

One freezing cold night while the twins are doing their best to stave off cabin fever somebody knocks at the door.

They live in the middle of nowhere. There was absolutely no good reason for their mother to go open the door without at least looking out the window first. Like...that could've been the Big Bad Wolf for all she knew! But the mom throws caution to the winds and opens the door to find an actual bear collapsed on the doorstep.

Instead of hibernating, like a normal bear, this guy decided "geez it's cold, I should find a house".

There's actually a logical explanation for that. More on that later.

Rose and Snow are both really fond of animals. So while their mother is like "Hogeez, that's a bear!", they're like "He's gonna freeze to death! Quick, let's get him inside!"

Okay, clearly this was either an adolescent bear, or Snow and Rose are preternaturally strong. I'm going with the former since the bear apparently only took up a space the size of the hearth rug.

Once the bear thaws out, he thanks the girls for convincing their mom to let him stay. He asks to stay in the house all winter instead of hibernating, and somehow the mom has enough food stored to be like "Sure, I guess". That's another clue that this probably isn't an adult bear.

Bear and the twins bond over the winter months and play a lot of very rowdy games. The girls' favorite is to apparently jump on the bear's back and pummel him with their fists.

No mention is made of whether their mother intervenes on that poor bear's behalf. Those girls are rough.

Spring comes, and Bear leaves. The girls miss their playmate, but figure that he's probably in the woods somewhere and they'll run into him at some point. They go back to their usual "run through the trees at all hours" routine and after a couple weeks run into someone new.

He's either a dwarf, a gnome, or a goblin and I really don't know which. Whatever the guy is, he's one of the Fair Folk. He also has a very bad temper.

So Snow and Rose are climbing around, and they find this gnome man with the tip of an impressively long beard stuck in a log.

I'm not sure how he managed to get it stuck in there in the first place.

Snow is sympathetic to the hazards of bark and long hair, and decides they're going to rescue him. Evidently she's as overprepared as a scout whenever she leaves the cottage because she just straight up pulls a pair of tiny scissors out of her pocket. She just...carries scissors around with her on a daily basis.

The fact that she went straight to "Lemme get my scissors" suggests that the gnome's beard was pretty irretrievably stuck.

So Snow snips off the very tip of the gnome's beard, and he is ticked off. Fair enough, Snow definitely should've asked before giving him a haircut. The gnome yells at the girls and storms off.

The year passes, they become teenagers, and winter returns. So does the bear., because apparently he still doesn't know how hibernation works.

Just like the year before, they spend the winter bonding and goofing off. When spring comes, they once again bid farewell to the bear and go back to their usual routines.

And once again, they find the gnome in dire straits.

This time, the unlucky grouch was trying to go fishing, and his beard got tangled in the fishing line. Which was slowly being dragged underwater by a fish.

Look pal, at that point I'd start thinking that maybe the universe is trying to send me a sign about unsafe hair lengths. At least throw the beard over your shoulder when you do stuff, geez!

This time Rose does the barbering. But Harry McBeardhazard is so stuck that she has to take about three inches off. Despite his beard being a literal safety hazard to himself and everyone around him, the gnome is Extremely Unhappy about this. Once more, he insults the girls and runs off.

This goes on for approximately two more winters. They hole up with Bear and their mom when it's cold, then have run-ins with the increasingly angry (and short-haired) gnome in the spring/summer. Bear is basically their best friend by now, but he's definitely bigger and takes up more of the livingroom than he used to. I honestly have no idea how the mom is keeping all four of them fed.

Spring comes once again, and with it, yet another encounter with Harry McBeardhazard.

You'd think the girls would've started sensing a pattern by now.

They find him lugging a treasure chest, with his beard stuck.

In. The lock.

My dude.

How?!

Once again, McBeardhazard is stuck in some situation that could've been avoided with a little more beard maintenance. And once again, Snow White's solution to the issue is "unsolicited haircut". The end result is a beard about a foot shorter than it used to be. That, and an incredibly angry gnome.

Despite this being the same reaction as the last couple times, Snow White and Rose Red still manage to be surprised that the gnome is less than grateful.

The gnome is gearing up for some kind of retaliation when Bear shows up. McBeardhazard freaks out, understandably. Less justifiable is his attempt to save himself by telling the bear to eat the girls and not him. Bear doesn't take too kindly to this, and swats the gnome.

Only, now he's a full grown bear with more strength than he thought, so Harry McBeardhazard comes down with a bad case of the deads.

In a highly convenient turn of events, the bear abruptly morphs into a scruffy and inexplicably clothed young man. In a deluge of Sudden Backstory, he reveals that he was turned into a bear by the gnome several years ago so that the gnome could steal his treasure.

That explains why he didn't know how to hibernate.

He's actually a king, as it happens, and his younger brother has been ruling the kingdom during his unexpected absence. So after the Bear King returns home to convince his subjects and advisers that he is not dead, he brings his brother to meet the family he's been wintering with for the past few years. Rose Red takes one look at the younger brother and decides "I'm going to marry that guy."

She does, of course, and Snow White marries the King-Formerly-Known-As-Bear.

The jury is out on whether they continue to run unsupervised through the woods after this, but presumably they were reasonably happy ever after.

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Folklore Friday

(It's time for another "Radio Explains Fairytales Badly, featuring the German fairytale, "Brother and Sister"/"Brüderchen und Schwesterchen")

Our story starts with the age old trope of the Wicked Stepmother, who mistreats Brother and Sister. Where is their father? Why hasn't he stopped this? And what's with the overall lack of fairytale parents who actually do something about Villainous Spouse Antics?

But this isn't your run-of-the-mill Cinderella Stepmother. No, apparently this one is also a witch.

Not only is she a witch, this is apparently common knowledge in the family!

Again: I have some questions for Brother and Sister's dad.

So Brother and Sister decide to take a page from Hansel and Gretel's book and just get out of Dodge while they can. Instead of being happy that they're gone so that questions of inheritance are no longer at stake, this makes Stepma even more mad. And her solution to this? Enchant every creek in the woods.

Yes. That's the perfect solution. Nevermind actually, I don't know, finding your stepkids, or doing something useful with your magic. No, just go ahead and turn the local water supply into an Animorphs oc-generator.

Brother and Sister spend the night hiking in the woods, and they get thirsty, as they apparently did not pack any supplies before leaving. The first spring they come from is, of course, enchanted.

I'll give the Stepmother this: she did properly label her bewitched water. #whoeverdrinksmewillbecomeatiger #exactlywhatitsaysonthetin

Side note: this is a European forest in like, the 17th century. Stepmother evidently did not consider that anything that drank out of that stream was going to stick out like a sore thumb.

Sister convinces Brother that they absolutely should not drink talking water. Especially not if it comes with a warning label. Brother reluctantly agrees, and they move on.

They find another spring, and this one turns you into a wolf. Once again, Sister has to actually convince her brother that under no circumstances should you drink water that is talking to you. Brother is just really regretting not hydrating before they left, okay?

By the third stream, he straight-up doesn't care anymore. The water is threatening to turn him into a deer? Well, it's less likely to eat his sister, being an herbivore, right? So Sister is ultimately unable to stop Brother from drinking the Deer Springs Water.

And he turns into a deer.

Sister freaks out at first, but then decides that this is still better than living with a stepmother who is literally a wicked witch and a father whose existence is dubious at best. So she and her newly transformed sibling decide they're just going to live in the woods forever.

And apparently they're not horrible at it? Because they actually manage to survive for like, ten years in there. So presumably either Stepmother's spell on the water wore off, or she didn't enchant all the water in the woods. Because otherwise there is no way those two made it that long.

So ten years later the young king is out hunting with his buddies and sees this big deer wearing a necklace. Of course they're like "Hey, that's not normal", and they chase him all the way back to this little cottage. Sister comes out and is like "Get off my lawn, that's my little brother."

King immediately gets a crush on her. He marries Sister and provides a lot of open space for his not-quite-human brother-in-law. And pretty quickly he and the new Queen have a baby.

This is usually where we say "Happily Ever After", but unfortunately there's this little matter of "it's a beautiful day in the kingdom and you are a horrible Witch".

Somehow, the Stepmother recognizes the new queen as her stepdaughter and gets mad. A whole kingdom is a much better inheritance than whatever she had! So she kills Sister.

How she got into the palace in the first place is anybody's guess.

Seriously, did like....Did Sister never mention to her husband "hey, my toxic stepmother is still out there and she's a witch btw"? Were there no guards on duty? How the heck do you botch security so bad that a little old lady sneaks in and murders your queen?!

And suddenly the tale introduces a convenient new character who was never mentioned before: Stepmother has a daughter of her own.

I dunno, maybe she had her after Brother and Sister ran away.

She tries to pass herself off as Sister (this happens in a lot of fairytales), and Stepmother uses magic to make her look like Sister.

Except unlike some of the other stories, the king figures it out pretty quickly. I mean, first of all, the baby is freaking out. Babies know when the person holding them is Not Mom. So that sets off some red flags in the king's head. And then, for three nights in a row, Sister's ghost comes walking in to check on the baby!

Kind of hard to talk your way out of that one.

So the king goes and finds wherever Stepmother hid the body, and despite the fact that she's been dead for about a week, he manages to revive her with the Power of a Good Strong Hug.

I'm not kidding. He brings her back to life by hugging her. Boy's got some quality hugs.

Stepmother and the Usurper Daughter are both sentenced to death for murder, treason, and probably identity theft. Conveniently, the moment the Stepmother is officially dead, Brother becomes human again.

And the story ends there, because apparently nobody thought about the fact that this man has spent ten years as a hoofed mammal and is probably still going to act like one in polite society. Who was the poor soul who had to convince Brother that yes, he did have to wear trousers now? Or that he could not, in fact, jump as high as he used to? Did he have to get used to having opposable thumbs again?

I still have questions!!

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Folklore Friday

(This is actually a repost of my first "Explain a Story Badly", since that one used to be connected to a Strange Magic Monday. It's an explanation of the first part of the epic poem Beowulf, strictly from memory when I hadn't read the full poem in a year or two. So. You, know. May not be 100% accurate.)

Warning: this very much contains spoilers for the first half of the story of Beowulf

So we have this Danish king, Hrothgar, in give or take 970-something a.d. or so? And he’s built this lovely new hall he calls Heorot. And to celebrate, he’s having big, loud parties in there several nights running.

Well not everyone in the neighborhood is thrilled about the new construction project. We’ve got this nasty piece of work over in the swamps named Grendel. Now, it could be that, grinch-like Grendel grows weary of the noise, noise, noise, noise. In which case, okay, that’s fair. Except his idea of making a noise complaint is to come in and start killing and eating sleeping warriors.

Grendel, no. That is not how we deal with our problems.

[[MORE]]

Well after this happens, Hrothgar and co bail out of Heorot, which is, you know, smarter than a lot of story types you’ll see. Like the mayor from Jaws.

And you don’t just have the neighbor sneak into your house at night and eat your soldiers without people hearing about it, so word spreads. And there’s this young guy named Beowulf, who’s a part of the Geats. (Germanic people group living in roundabouts Southern Sweden at the time). Now, Beowulf just....does things. He’s like the hometown hero and it is entirely possible that this guy once out-swam a sea monster for the sheer heck of it. (If I recall, and mind you it’s been a while since I read the poem, he was making some kind of formal boast at the time this particular anecdote came out so, you know, judge for yourself if he made that up).

So Beowulf hears about the Heorot Incident and his people are like “Hey, Hrothgar is a good guy. He helped out your dad, right, Beowulf? Wish we could help.”

And Beowulf essentially is like “hold my beer”.

So he and his gang sail over and set up camp in Heorot, making friends with Hrothgar and co, and generally making an ungodly racket to flush out the resident troll. So once all the civilians are like “I’m out, dude, hope you all live through the night”, they settle in, ready to throw down with an eldritch party-pooper. Beowulf, mind you, has decided to do this sans weapons (and in at least one version, sans clothes for some reason) because Grendel won’t be armed either and he’s going to make it a fair fight.

Our boy is apparently the Old English Goku.

Grendel shows up because of course he has to make his very obnoxious complaint about the noise, and eats one of Beowulf’s men. Who is not stated to have been awake for this so it was either super quick or he was super drunk. Considering how much mead was going around, either is possible. Then he decides Beowulf is next, except that guy is very much not sleeping.

He basically pops up like “Mblergh! It’s me!” and then tries to grapple the troll.

Evidently he had not been skipping arm day at the gym because he actually wins. Very literally disarms Grendel. Despite the fact that none of his soldiers’ swords could dent Grendel’s hide.

Once his arm’s off, Grendel does not stick around to fight, because it is not “merely a flesh-wound”, and he is losing a heck ton of blood. He goes off back to his ogre-swamp and dies in a cave. Because some human guy ripped his arm off with his bare hands. (Insult to injury if, like the above mention, he's a screaming naked man popping out of the shadows to rip your arm off).

So the next morning everyone is like “We only lost one guy! And we killed the monster!” and they hang Grendel’s arm up on the wall like the world’s tackiest wrestling trophy. Presumably they did something to preserve it or taxidermy it because the alternative is both gross and short-sighted. Also unsanitary, but what can you do.

End of the problem, right?

Apparently not.

So here’s the thing: Grendel was living with his mom. And she was pretty ticked off about Grendel coming home from a murder-outing minus one arm and coming down with a bad case of death. And she was especially displeased to learn that the humans were keeping her son’s arm on the wall. Which, I suppose, is fair. So she sneaks in on night on a little murder-outing of her own. She doesn’t find Beowulf in Heorot, because he’s in another house for the night, so she finds this one guy who was pretty close to Hrothgar and rips his arm off as revenge, and then books it back to the swamp. Don't ask me how she knew which guy to dismember, but apparently she knew some faces.

This does not sit well with the Danes and the Geats. Beowulf swims down to the bottom of the Local Murder-Swamp and finds the cave, where he promptly gets into a brawl with Grendel’s Mother. Only this time he brought weapons. Like his soldiers had already discovered, he quickly realizes that his sword is pretty much useless against Ma Grendel and her Very Tough Hide.

Conveniently, she has a sword hanging on the wall for No Particular Reason.

Even more conveniently, this particular sword is the only thing that can kill her, which begs the question of why she was using it as home decor. Beowulf promptly makes use of it and that puts an end to Ma Grendel’s very brief reign of terror. (Well actually, all the bodies in the cave suggest the reign of terror might’ve been a wee bit longer than originally suspected).

Then Beowulf finds Grendel’s body, but he’s not about to trust that the dude is actually dead (which is probably smart) and goes ahead and beheads him with the Special Sword. 

In the most convenient of plot twists, Grendel’s gross toxic blood melts the sword blade so he can’t ever use his awesome OP sword again. Sorry, Beowulf, no power-up for you.

He takes the hilt and the monster heads back to Hrothgar, who rewards him handsomely, and then goes on this long lecture about like, pride? and paying your people well or something? That’s basically all for Younger Beowulf’s adventures, because the next time we see him, there’s been a timeskip of about fifty years and he is having problems in his kingdom.

[radioactivepeasant]

This Week's Prompt Schedule:

(Another two-prompt week, because my jobs have been busier lately. Lot of programs coming up at the library 😅)

Monday: Strange Magic Monday

Friday: Retelling Fairytales Badly