#tell me why maurice because i really want to know

[ihavewritersblockbutinreallife]

Somebody please tell me why Transformer OCs aren't commonly referred to as Fansformers?

I'd love to know the reason why this earth has not been graced with this term.

[ohwaitimthewriter]

The Memory Keeper

Chapter 5: Legacy.

Pairing: Noa x human!reader

Warnings: Description of character death. Description of injuries. Some violence.

Words: 5.6k+ (like... how??)

Summarize: A woman, allowed to live as long as the virus keeps running through her body, living on autopilot for 260 years, is going to see her life takes a new turn, finding hope in something that might come to put an end to her wandering.

A/N: For the love of God, IT IS FINALLY HERE! And don't ask me how he knows about Picasso. He just knows. (Nope, I'm not talking about who you think I'm talking about). I hope you'll like it!

Enjoy your reading 😊

The Memory Keeper Masterlist / Planet of The Apes Masterlist

Narrating wasn't the problem. It never had been. Even if the tears always joined the party and your throat formed such tight knots that it became difficult to form the necessary words. You'd done it before, years ago, you'd done it.

"Where is he?" Noa had asked. "Dead." You had answered, in a whisper.

You were vigorously plucking, blade by blade, the grass you had been sitting on. Each blade pulled from the ground stood for every tear your body wanted to cry, but which you swallowed before they could form.

You didn't really understand why he wanted to know when you had told him you'd found a horse for him, that it would only take a few days, just a few days, and then they could both, he and Raka, go about their business.

So why did he want to know?

At that simple word, you noticed that his eyes were searching for something in the depths of his thoughts, and he suddenly crouched down in front of you, almost waiting for you to unravel the whole story of this Caesar. This Caesar whose name he had already heard through the masks, through Raka, but who made no sense to him when it came to you. This Caesar who had to be someone else. This Caesar who couldn't be the previous two.

Noa watched as you mentally counted the blades of grass you plucked from the ground and tossed a little further. Your eyes were telling a story. And with the short time he'd spent with you, he knew how rare it was. But this Caesar could obviously work miracles, and that made him curious.

You knew that Noa was tilting his head more and more, as you tried to lower yours even further to the ground, almost wishing you could dig a hole and bury yourself in it to prevent him from watching a film you'd like to forget. The heavy images in your head acted like weights, and gravity became a constant struggle not to curl up completely on the ground.

…

Dead.

And those heavy images that kept flashing by. Such heavy images…

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You had seen him fall.

Maurice at his side, one hand desperately stroking Caesar's leg, almost as if for comfort, who had just collapsed on one side. The lifeless body. The soothed face.

The smile you had flashed just a second earlier dropped as your blurred vision took over, and you suddenly felt as if you were drowning.

Maurice sang a series of hoots in such distress that it didn't take long for the apes to realize what was happening, as Rocket rushed to Caesar's lifeless body. You had wanted to do the same, running to him, trying something, a cardiac massage, blowing air into his lungs, anything, but your legs wouldn't let you.

Because they knew better.

So they gave up on you. You ignored the pain of your knees hitting the rocky ground. Your eyes searched frantically for his as if he were suddenly going to open them and reassure everyone that he was all right. And the more you tried to see his green eyes again, the more your throat tightened into a knot so intense it hurt. The walls of your throat twisted with such force that swallowing became impossible.

He was going to open them. He had to. He must open them.

But seconds passed like minutes without anything happening, and a stab slowly sank into your chest, forcing you to tighten your arms around it as you refused to take your eyes off Caesar. The sharp pain coursing through your body took its time to twist your stomach, and a sob churned in your mouth, unable to escape.

If his eyes didn't open, maybe you'd see his ribcage rise. Maybe you'd catch a glimpse of his lungs, hidden behind the muscles of his chest, gasping for oxygen. Maybe you'd missed it, so if you lingered long enough, maybe you'd see his chest inflate, if only a little, just a tiny bit… " Inflate, please inflate" you addressed it in silence, wishing that his ribcage would somehow prove to you that he was still there.

But his thorax remained silent.

Then your eyes travelled back to his face. And there was no longer any doubt. His features, so familiarly hardened by a scowl that naturally stuck to him after all those years of fighting, protecting and providing for his clan, had relaxed into a serenity that had belonged only to Cornelia, only to his sons, to behold. A serenity that Caesar, on occasions when you respectfully teased the hell out him, would secretly grant you.

There could be no more doubt as your tears spilled down your cheeks, unable to move in front of Caesar, in front of the one who had decided to keep you safe.

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On the rare days when you were reminded that you'd never see again the green eyes of the ape who had accepted you as one of his own, you wondered if there was anything you could have done. Maybe if you'd pushed harder on your leg muscles, even if it meant straining them, maybe you could have taken action and tried to bring him back to life. If you'd seen the crossbow bolt embedded deep between his ribs earlier, if you could have removed it… And as is often the case, with "ifs" a whole world could be remade.

You kept pecking at the blades of grass with your fingers, and as you didn't seem to want to delve any deeper into the story being told behind your veiled eyes, Noa decided that maybe you needed some help to talk.

"How?"

Noa was careful with his words, lest you shut down entirely and the emotions he could easily read on your face fade back into oblivion. It was easier when he could see your emotions, because he could adjust his attitude accordingly and skillfully get what he wanted.

You signed a single word to him, not finding the heart to pronounce it, "killed."

The wheels of his brain began to spin and Noa suddenly wondered if your Caesar hadn't been killed like his father had been, by the same apes who had plundered his village. The same apes he was trying to find to bring his clan back home, whatever the cost. The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fit together in his head. He wanted to know the story, he was becoming almost impatient, perhaps lacking empathy for the loss you had suffered and which obviously affected you greatly, but he was eager to know if he was right in his train of thought.

His eyes were drawn to your hip, on which you seemed to be leaning less in your cross-legged position. He had the impression that it was higher up, while your posture was slightly tilted to the left, as if your pelvis on the right was raised by an inch or two.

What if you'd been injured when your Caesar died?

Noa moved his arm up, and the movement drew your eyes to follow his hand, slightly folded in on itself, as it pointed to your hip.

"Wounded." he observed. "When your Caesar died?"

Surely, if you confirmed his words, it would be one step closer to the accuracy of his hypothesis.

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Screams. Piercing. Human. It didn't take overdeveloped hearing to hear them, and Koba gloated at the thought of a human suffering.

It hadn't been his first intent to go and check. Caesar had asked him to keep an eye on the outer perimeter of the forest to ensure there were no intruders, and that was exactly what he intended to do. At least, until those cries disturbed his watch.

A human female.

The agony that struck his sensitive eardrums was only a few hundred meters away, and he would have liked to have left her where she was, no matter what happened to her, the piercing pain of her groans made it clear that she would eventually lose her life, and consequently she was no threat to the colony.

Koba began to move from branch to branch when a deep voice, this time a male, bellowed angrily, and suddenly the sobs echoing through the valley seemed to be muffled.

This, however, was more annoying.

The leather around your wrists, head and ankles was sticking to your skin. Drops of sweat beaded on your forehead and puddled around the strap that sheared your skull. You felt like your skin was burning under the leather edges and you swore that the moment they took it off, your skin would stick to the torturous object, peeling off like the skin of an orange. You could only grit your teeth at the thought.

Tears mixed freely with sweat and you weren't sure which one was burning your eyes. All you knew was that the drops were tumbling down your temples and pooling in the hollow of your ear before cascading in a tiny waterfall down your lobe and crashing onto the surgical table that supported your body.

You stared up at the blurred ceiling above you, and even if you wanted to look away, the leather strap around your head prevented you from making any movement.

It would soon be over.

You reassured yourself as best you could, the scientists' words still engraved in your mind:

"What if… we combined?" One of them had suggested as if you weren't already there in the room. "Combined?" asked his colleague. "Dislocated knee and fractured hip." Explained the first. "We know about dislocation. The tissues regenerate in 2 days if we put the limb back where it belongs, and in 4 days if we let it hang."

The second explained, laughing as he recalled an experiment that was successful for him, but a disaster for you, "The other day, Weston even had the idea of tying a rope to her dislocated elbow to see if the pull exerted would make healing longer or impossible, and this dumbass almost succeeded in making her lose her elbow!" he sneered. "She must have had a tough time of it!" The first man's eyes widened, but he couldn't help chuckling. "She's being paid for it." The second man shrugged.

Paid for. As if you'd had any choice. That day when the ALZ-113 test came back positive. That day when, to the utter disbelief of everyone in the room, including you, they'd gone ballistic, because how could it be? How could you be positive for this virus without any symptoms? Without degrading yourself mentally? Physically? How could you still stand up and not cough your lungs out?

You were only supposed to be immune. You were part of the group that had been commandeered for several months to try and understand why some people couldn't be infected. This group of people selected after lengthy observation following exposure to the virus.

For 3 months. 3 months with a virus test at the end of each.

1 month of exposure to the virus.

No symptoms. Test. Test negative.

1 additional month.

Still no symptoms. Test negative.

1 last month.

Free of symptoms. Test.

Positive.

And the panic was on.

Human vileness hardly surprised you anymore, but these scientists were bound to receive some awards for their cruelty.

"Okay, here's what I propose, we try the hip dislocation but we're going to offer a bit of a challenge to the body." The second man replied. "A challenge?" The first one asked. "You're new to this program, so you don't know everything yet, but we've taken it to the next level, no longer trying to find out what the virus regenerates or how it does it…"

The second scientist then grabbed a hammer from the makeshift workbench set up earlier, and your pupils suddenly dilated at the sight of the tool swinging at the end of a string, dangling from the scientist's finger. Your blood ran cold and tension began to contract all your muscles, unconsciously preparing for the shock.

"We're looking for the limits." The scientist concluded, gripping the hammer handle firmly. "I… I'll get the anesthetic." The first scientist stated, however the more experienced one stopped him. "It only wastes the product. Remember, the virus regenerates any cell it considers sick or dead."

Oh, and how you wished with all your being that you could just fight back and rip off those straps whose leather had become all too familiar to your skin. Today, it was going to hurt. You knew it, it wasn't new, it always hurt and your only line of defense was to grit your teeth and pray that it would happen quickly. But that hammer. Oh you could only imagine, no, your body already knew how much raw, stabbing pain it would cause. Even a stab was more bearable. Even before the flat of the hammer made contact with the targeted part, you could feel your bones cracking and shattering. Each splinter of bone would sink into your muscles, your inner epidermis, and why not shear off the more protuberant veins running along your thigh and hip.

You could feel your muscles tensing in anticipation, to the point of twisting the joints of your pelvis, as if your body were trying to hide as far as possible those bones already well protected under the layer of muscle, fat and skin that formed a bulwark between them and the outside world.

The two scientists must have thought you were a ridiculous worm, squirming to get your body away from their painfully intrusive hands, but the straps were doing their job. The tinkling of the straps, as you tried to remove your wrists from their grip, drew the attention of the scientists, who stared at you scornfully. A ridiculous worm that could not escape the boot that would crush it.

The first impact ripped through your flesh and your face contorted into a grimace, a taste of iron spread through your mouth and the pressure you exerted on your jaw to keep it shut sent a shower of needles down your cheeks and up to your temples, where the blood was pounding a beat that made you wish you could bang your head on the floor.

You didn't want to give them the pleasure of hearing your screams. Not now, not on the first blow.

If they wanted to hear them, they'd have to come and get them.

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It may have been a long time ago, but the memory remained imperishable. How could it be when it was responsible for your constant limping.

Your body had been through a lot. But it had always been able to repair itself, patch itself up and regenerate every part, every cell, every bone in such an admirable way that you sometimes doubted you'd ever really been harmed.

But there was still this hip. A little wobbly, a little too rigid. And the screams. Oh, the screams, they had finally got them, and the delight on their faces left a bitter, vomit-inducing taste in your mouth.

In your fervent desire to strip the earth of its blades of grass, you had grabbed a flower stem and were working hard to remove each petal. A quick tug, a hammer blow, another quick tug, another hammer blow. Eighteen. You had counted eighteen.

The silent conversation you were having with yourself was mind-boggling to Noa. If he'd known earlier that fixing your frame was going to give him such an outpouring of expression and life from you, he'd have taken it upon himself to break it and fix it in the process much sooner.

If he had done so, maybe he'd never have had to deal with the wave… no, the tsunami of emotions he had never really been ready to receive. It was yet another piece of the puzzle he was missing. How could an Echo be both so unexpressive and yet overflowing with feelings like a river after a big storm?

Noa almost wanted to come closer, still crouching down, wanting to force you to answer his question as if he could pull the wool over your eyes with his mere proximity. "Tell me I'm right." That was what he wanted most when he hadn't even shared his train of thought with you. Because if he was right, your behavior would have found a logic.

The despair of seeing your world crumble helplessly.

The guilt of not having been able to protect.

The shame of not having been strong enough.

Emptiness, faced with the inert body of a loved one.

This would make sense to Noa because he himself had felt them. But his entire pyramid of thought collapsed in a single one of your sentences.

"No, before I even knew him."

If Noa could have cut into your skull to see what was going on inside, you were sure he would have. Noa squinted, trying to make sense of a story for which he had only scraps of words.

"Where's his clan?" Noa attempted another question and to his surprise, your answer was quick to ring in his ears. "I don't know, I left."

Oh.

It would have taken a trained eye to notice, but Noa puffed out his chest slightly, proud to have asked the right question. You'd had a life before living with his clan for a while, at least, long enough to have such feelings when your Caesar died.

And then, his line of thought came to an abrupt end.

OH.

You. An Echo. Living with a clan of apes.

An Echo and apes, sharing the same living space.

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Watching you go back and forth between the arms of the conscious and unconscious was quite enthralling for Koba.

Even though he could feel the bile rising in his throat, he had to admit that you had put up a good fight. Your human vanity had been far too great to succumb so quickly to your abusers. If the men in white had come to a tragic end under Koba's murderous fists and fangs, he hadn't been shy about admiring for a while the sadistic game those men had started with you.

There was nothing more delectable than watching a human suffer, and Koba was quite in awe of humans' boundless creativity when it came to torture.

He could just as easily kill you. It would have been easy in such a vulnerable state, but where would the fun be if you didn't see him do it?

The terror he'd been able to read in the eyes of these men dressed in white had only been an appetizer, like the hazelnut that crunches under the tooth to whet the appetite.

The screams. It was a feast he'd relished in. Koba took care of it. He'd wanted to hear them scream like he'd heard you rip your lungs out in pain.

Koba squinted at the thought. No, it had nothing to do with you. It had nothing to do with seeing your hands and feet bound and pinned to a table the way he had been. It had nothing to do with the fact that the current state of your pelvis looked like a Picasso painting and that the scars, if and only if, he let you survive, would match those scattered across his body.

No.

He'd wanted to hear them scream because they were men wearing white. Humans who had mutilated him. Because they were human.

A whine.

Koba turned his gaze to your face. And what a satisfying sight it was. He could read on your every feature the pain that had circulated through all your cells, a pain he imagined to be so deep that it had left its marks on the skin of your contorted face. Even in the unconscious, he could see the repetitive twitching of your body trying to digest the hammer blows it had repeatedly received.

To him, it was a painting, a work of art, and he might have wished he'd inflicted it on you himself, but not to observe other human beings, your bloodthirsty species, inflicting such suffering on one of their own would have been a real waste.

How ironic. As human as you were, it didn't stop them. No better than a laboratory rat… No better than the ape he was in the eyes of those men wearing white.

How ironic to let you live only to see you realize how insignificant you are to your own species. To the species that claimed to be superior. The idea of you, a human, realizing that even this had been taken away from you by these other humans, no matter who you were, what you had or hadn't done, was so pleasing to Koba's vengeance that he yanked each of the straps that held you to the table.

And Caesar? Oh Caesar will see. He'll understand Koba.

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"Raka… told me a story."

The hesitation in Noa's voice caught your attention and you slowly began to forget to peck at the blades of grass at your feet. What story? Your gaze, lost in your memories, landed on Noa, curious to hear what he had to tell you.

Noa found himself fascinated by the stubbornness of your irises to continue the story you were telling yourself, while at the same time showing your sudden interest in his words. He felt as if he were observing the depths of a river, its swirls warping the flora and fauna moving beneath the surface, with only the desire to plunge his face underwater and let him see clearly the life that lay there, without filters, without waves, without murky waters.

"Apes and… Echoes" he pointed to you with a wave of his hand. "A very long time ago… would have been like… you and your Caesar."

Noa watched your facial features pull back into a confused scowl. You said nothing. He wondered if you were inviting him to go on with his explanation or if you were silently passing incredulous judgment on a potential distant truth that he himself had felt, when Raka had told him stories of a past older than the elders of his village. After all, even if a clan of apes had shared a part of your life, it was very far from being standard practice in this world, and quite the contrary, you may have been the only Echo in the present world to have lived in such a way. It would come as no surprise to be suspicious of this potential truth, but Noa was sure that you were living proof that Raka might have been right about that distant past.

But to you, something was wrong. And you felt your neurons searching for connections that didn't yet exist, because it was more than obvious from your own experience that apes and humans had lived side by side. It wasn't an unknown story, or even a harebrained one, it was your story.

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Perched on the edge of a boulder, your legs dangling in the air above the rest of the colony, you were quietly watching the apes go about their daily lives.

A month had passed.

A month, but it had really only been a week since you'd ventured outside the hut you'd been brought to to help your body heal.

Something was lurking in the pit of your stomach, a feeling you could hardly identify because it was so unstable. It grew inside of you and spread like water from a dam that had just burst, although you didn't know if you should really welcome it and let it settle in your veins so that it could nourish each and every one of your cells. And whatever that feeling was, whether positive, negative or a bit of both, it kept growing and trying to find its true nature.

This feeling had begun to feed on what it saw around you in the three weeks since you had regained awareness of your surroundings.

Distrust, in the green and golden eyes of some of the apes who passed by your hut.

Benevolence, in the leathery hands that took care to check on the progress of your healing.

Curiosity, in the gruff words that asked you questions to which you didn't have all the answers.

Hatred, in the growls that hissed through the sharp teeth shown to you when you dared a glance outside your hut.

And, above all, empathy, in the gentle, patient gestures made to ensure that no more pain would be caused to you as your body worked crudely to create bones and flesh previously ripped to shreds.

Three weeks. That's how long it had taken for you to be able to put one foot on the ground again and for your hip to weld to your pelvis. Your body had done what it could with what it had left. You knew you'd never walk the way you used to. You didn't need an X-ray or a CAT scan to feel the bone plate that had fastened the bone in your pelvis to the bone at the top of your femur.

You wondered what the scientists would call this new bone, their future pride and joy. Maybe Weston would take all the credit, after all, even if he wasn't the designer, he was the head of the program.

And this feeling, which continued its perpetual development, suddenly twisted your stomach. They couldn't give it a name if you didn't come back.

You snapped out of your thoughts when a low, guttural grunt drew your gaze to an ape crouching beside you.

Caesar. That was how he had introduced himself when you had regained consciousness.

You smiled at him before focusing your admiring gaze once again on the goings-on below.

"It's… amazing what you've done."

A low vibration emerged from his chest in a dull chuckle, and you didn't need to see it to know he was proud of the work he'd done.

"Not I, all of us."

You nodded keenly, but couldn't help feeling that he was being too modest, for if it hadn't been for him, all those apes would never have had the life they'd got here.

This plunged you into a form of nostalgia for a time that had not yet arrived, but which was taking shape a little more day by day. A time when humans would die out and the apes would continue to thrive, and you couldn't yet imagine to what extent.

"The world is going to change so much…" Your voice seemed lost in a distant future when the realization hit you. You turned sharply towards him, your right hip screaming insults through your nerve endings, "No, what I mean is…" you rushed to reply while massaging the painful part of your pelvis in a silent apology, "it's really fantastic what's happening to you all and it's a great thing but…" You paused in your clumsy explanation before resuming, your eyes busy looking at your fidgeting hands, resigned, "Sorry, that was stupid."

You suddenly looked up as Caesar took hold of your wrist. Cautiously, he stretched your arm slightly towards him, placing the palm of your open hand skywards. His grip wasn't meant to be aggressive; in fact, he was silently and gently showing you the best way to ask for forgiveness. You felt his leathery fingers glide confidently over your palm and you were so taken aback that Caesar, after accepting your apology, had to gently push your hand towards you to indicate that the exchange was over.

"The world… has already… changed." His baritone voice resonated right into your ribcage, and you observed him place beside you a wristband adorned with what looked like polished white stone. "But you can… learn."

The more you looked at the wristband, the stranger those little white stones seemed to you. You hardly dared to touch it, and you cast a questioning glance at Caesar, who was cautiously observing your reaction.

"Wha… what's this?" "Bones." He replied simply, pointing to your pelvis.

The bones from your pelvis. It took you a minute to digest the information, but that was all it took to understand.

The small pieces of bone had been carefully cleaned and gloriously adorned around this wristband woven from a bamboo stalk. Your bones, which had been bruised and abused in human hands, had been reassembled and treated with respect in the hands of an ape. A form of silent agreement that said: if humans have torn a part of you away, apes, if you were willing, could have it back to you.

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Unconsciously, your hand had slipped around your wrist where the bracelet had rested there for years before being lost. Your fingertips remembered the asymmetrical outlines of the polished bones and the way the woven bamboo rods rolled across your skin, and it was hard to forget them after so many years of playing with them between your fingers.

It had been a long time since you'd thought about it, and if it had still been there, maybe you could have shown it to Noa and confessed that Raka was right, that it wasn't "would have been" but simply "was".

The issue wasn't to relate, but…

And you tilted your head to one side. Your eyes crinkled into a thousand questions that you couldn't formulate yourself and that remained on the tip of your tongue as if no words in any language could really translate them into something audible.

"H-How…?" You couldn't finish your question. "That's what Raka said… when I told him about the masks."

Noa was not sure whether he should tell you about the masks, or even why he had brought himself to your doorstep. And you'd never gotten him used to that intense stare of yours in four days. Now it was your turn to want to open his skull like you would open a Tupperware to see what was hidden inside.

You stared at him intently and caught his gaze turning to Raka, who was nearby looking after his horse.

Noa was looking for some form of escape, or even comfort, from Raka, who he felt was best placed to explain these things to you. But Raka wasn't looking at him. He couldn't help him out of the mess Noa had gotten himself into.

Noa stumbled over his words, not knowing where to start, but he sensed that you wouldn't help him collect his thoughts and translate them into words. But if you didn't want to help him make them audible, yourself far too confused and bewildered, he could always sign them to you.

"Long before, another Caesar… A different one from yours, too far away to be yours" And you straightened up, suddenly wanting to get closer to Noa, silently taken aback by his movements that you were slowly deciphering. "Raka said, the masks, they took his name." Noa went on signing, amplifying his gestures to make sure you understood. "To twist his words."

And the signs that followed left you speechless.

"Ape do not kill ape." Noa began, before going on with gestures seeming like an echo from the valleys of a mountain range overshadowing bygone days.

And as you stared at Noa, your irises detailing his every move in their sockets, you finally noticed.

How had you not noticed before? Surely too busy looking away, too busy drowning in lists, sinking into activities that had kept you bodily functional, too busy wanting them both to go away.

The scar on his right pectoral. Your vision blurred a little more at the signs you knew by heart, the signs Caesar had told you over and over again until they became second nature. All you could see were his hands, close to his chest, his scar in the background, and for a fraction of a second you could see him, Caesar.

Caesar signed to you the words he was so proud of, puffing out his chest like an insolent child after getting the top mark in an exam, so proud of the words he'd invented that he let out a confident growl, straight from his ribcage.

"Apes, together, strong." You whispered Caesar's words in the rhythm he was so accustomed to signing them.

And a tear beaded down your cheek as you looked up into Caesar's face, realizing at first glance that it was really only Noa.

Noa observed your cheeks gradually covering with tears, not really understanding what had just gone through your head, but he too was speechless. How did you know his words? And before he could ponder the question any further, your barely audible voice forced him to focus on what you were about to reveal, his first name rolling off your lips.

"Noa… There is no other Caesar."

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Tags list:

@callsignwidow

@youdontknowe

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@koshi-sama

@violet-19999

@queen-luna-007

@sciencewithottsnpotts

@sparks0918

@moonlightnyx

@analuw

[bucked-it-up]

Idk if this will ever be finished because uni and life got overwhelming but I thought why not post this so some people can see it and read it rather than sit in my drafts. Anyways it's a bucktommy au only really the start. Word count - 2417

Buck was fed up with going to physiotherapy; he knew he needed to go for his leg and get back to firefighting, but it was so draining, and every session just reminded him of how far he must go. Having to do the exercises and struggling just added more to the pain and heartbreak of not being able to go back to firefighting, the one thing he felt was important. The 118 tried to help him but they just felt like comforting platitudes. Always saying take your time, you will be back sooner than you know. He just wanted to be back out there, doing the rescues, and helping people, he didn’t want to feel stuck. He kept going, kept pretending he cared about more than the job, that he wasn’t struggling to get up knowing he wasn’t truly closer to getting back to work.

The appointment that day wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either, they had been going through some of the standard exercises to get strength back. They were exercises he could’ve done in his sleep before the truck but now his muscles shook, locked into tense positions, making it hard to walk. The physiotherapist, Emma, always would say it's normal and it will improve, and he just wanted to shout at her sometimes. When will it improve? When? Every time he feels the same, no improvement. He needed something to feel like a win.

As he walked out of the appointment room, slightly limping, keeping weight on his left, he bumped into something. He fell back slightly, catching himself with his bad leg, letting out a hiss of pain and stumbling. A hand grabs his arm steadying him.

“Hey,” a soft voice appears, “You good?”

“Yeah, uh,” Buck looks up to see concerned eyes and dark hair. “I wasn’t expecting to bump into someone. Caught myself on my bad leg.”

“It’s my fault I wasn’t looking where I was going.” The hand lets go of its hold on his arm and Buck can feel himself steady, but pain still races up his leg a not-so-subtle reminder that he needs to be more careful. “I’m Tommy, here for my shoulder, you?”

“Evan, my leg if it wasn’t obvious.” Buck wasn’t sure why he said Evan not Buck, but it felt easier, Buck had the expectations of a firefighter, of someone fit and healthy, something who could stumble and put weight on his leg. Evan had no expectations apart from being someone who fucked up.

“I have to go in for my appointment, Evan,” Tommy saying Evan felt nice, Buck wasn’t sure why. “But maybe I will see you next week? If you have an appointment?”

“I do,” Buck chuckled a bit at arranging to meet at another physio appointment but why not, Tommy seems nice. “I guess I will see you then.”

And that was the start of their weekly physio meet-ups.

Every week, when Tommy’s appointments lined up with Buck's, was a light in each dark week. He did feel like he was closer to getting somewhere now with his leg, but it was still a struggle. Talking to Tommy after each appointment helped, he had learnt so much about Tommy. He now knew that Tommy was a firefighter pilot at the Harbor Station and had also been at the 118 before he had transferred which meant that Buck had gotten to learn what it was like before he joined the station. Buck had gotten to laugh at stories such as Maurice and the knives.

(“What do you mean you had to get a chicken with knives attached to its legs?”

“It was a part of a cock fighting ring!”

“Sure…”

“The best part was Bobby giving the chicken to Athena.”

‘Wait! What do you mean he did that! Tell me more!”)

Buck learns about Tommy’s time in the army, and how he joined to escape his dad. He joined as early as he could and ended up being discharged after he was shot in the shoulder. Buck learns how he decided to join firefighting.

(“After being discharged I had no purpose, like I was floating with no anchor. After so long of being in regimented routines where every part of my day was decided for me, I just didn’t know what to do. Then I saw an emergency happen in front of me, nothing serious, someone had fallen and broken their leg and needed an ambulance, I saw how the team worked together, and it reminded me of my time in the army. How there you had a group of people who always had your back. That’s why I signed up, I wanted to help people and have people around me to fall back on.”

“But then you had Gerrard.”

“But I had Gerrard.”)

After Tommy opens up about Gerrard, Buck slowly learns more bits and pieces about Tommy’s life. He learns how Gerrard was almost a perfect reflection of Tommy's father and how it affected him in terms of coming to accept himself. Buck learns about how Tommy felt after starting therapy when he joined the 217, wanting to learn how to be a better person and come to terms with what had happened in the past.

(“It took a lot of work to come to terms with myself and realise that I couldn’t keep letting my dad hang over my head. I needed to accept myself and with comfortable with me. Hen was actually the first person I told I was gay. She was a big reason why I had come to terms with wanting to be proud of who I am and who I love. So, I wanted her to be the first to know.”

“How did she react?”

“Oh, she invited me over for dinner with Karen, it was one of the first times I had been able to talk about being gay and what it meant for me. I don’t talk to Hen as often anymore, but we always tell each other happy pride. I miss her.”)

Tommy in turn learns about Evan’s travels before he became a firefighter, and learns about Maddie who only recently came back in his life. Tommy sits there and listens while Evan talks about growing up in a home where only his sister was a parent to him and how he felt abandoned when Maddie stayed with Doug but also how having Maddie’s jeep set him free from the expectations of his parents.

(“So, a cowboy, you were a cowboy.”

“I don’t know if I would say cowboy…”

“Come one, Evan, I know you want to call yourself a cowboy.”

“Okay, maybe I was a cowboy.”)

Tommy also learns about when Evan was fired, and how he was using sex as a coping mechanism and took the fire truck to have sex with someone. He learns that Evan cares so much about the job, how much he needs to be able to go back to work and how much pain Evan is hiding.

(“The day I got fired was a difficult day, but it was also a good day. I learnt how much firefighting means to me and I got to prove myself to both Athena and Bobby. Since then, my love for the job has grown with each rescue no matter how small or big. I just want to get back to it, Tommy, it almost hurts being away from it and not knowing when I will be back. I just want to get better.”

“You will, Evan. I know you will.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I see you, I see your determination, your strength. You will get back there.”)

Tommy also learns about how Evan got the leg injury and the events leading up to it. He remembers hearing about the bombs being placed around the city, targeting people. He remembers the horror of seeing the news report of a firefighter being trapped under an engine and the bomber refusing to let anyone near him. He remembers watching with bated breath, hoping to see the figure be set free, he almost cried with relief when he saw the truck being lifted. He couldn’t imagine being the person going through it. He felt like he understood Evan even more after hearing about it.

(“It was terrifying, I was stuck, and I was sure I was going to lose my leg. The kid just wouldn’t do anything, I mean I get he was scared and hurt but I just wanted to be out of pain.”

“God, Evan, I can’t imagine.”

“I thought I would be free of the pain when they started to lift the truck, but it just got worse, and now I’m likely to never stop feeling pain in my leg. Sometimes it feels like I’m still under there, with no help coming.”

“Evan, I will always help, please call me, text me anytime and I will get to you as soon as possible. I will make sure that help is always coming.”)

As suddenly as the meetings started, they stopped. Tommy’s shoulder no longer needed to be watched over by the physio and it was just at-home exercises he needed to do. Buck didn’t realise quite how lonely the appointments would be after that even though he knew his end was in sight as well. Though he didn’t see Tommy at the appointments, they did finally remember to share their numbers and since then, Buck didn’t think they had gone more than a day without texting.

(Tommy: Only a couple more PT sessions left, then its recertify training?

Buck: Yep! So happy I can finally start training again soon. The academy won’t know what hit them!

Tommy: Let me know when you start and you can come round and train in my home gym)

Sometimes it was serious texts, long messages about something that was bothering them, often about their injuries that they both knew they would be dealing with for the rest of their lives. Having someone able to understand helped Buck be able to slowly come to terms with the pain in his leg, he was able to look past it more and accept that some things in his life would have to adjust. Other times the messages sent were much less serious.

(Buck: did you know there is only one seal species that only live in freshwater?

Tommy: No, but go on

Buck: Yes!! The Baikal Seal in Russia, its found in the baikal lake which is also the deepest lake in the world!)

Buck learnt more about the day to life of a firefighter pilot, what kind of work they do what kind of calls Tommy takes. He learns that Tommy does a lot of air transport often from the harder hiking routes in LA where inexperienced hikers think they can handle. He also learns about some of the weird calls that he’s done while being with Harbor.

(Tommy: so one time we went out to a call middle of nowhere to transport a medical call and when we get there we find this couple who had obviously come out for a date when some how one of them got tangled up and tripped over the picnic blanket breaking their leg and then the other decides you know what it’s the perfect time to propose right as we are about to put their partner in the helicopter

Buck: did they say yes?!?!?!?!?

Tommy: is that the only thing you took away from that story…

Buck: you can’t leave me hanging what was the answer!!!!!

Tommy: …. They said yes

Buck: !!!!!)

As time went on Tommy did wonder if Evan was pushing himself too far to recertify as soon as he could. Tommy worried that he could cause an injury down the line and did try and get Evan to slow down whenever he came round to train in his gym. He would force longer rests and lighter weights, citing that it would help him when he went hard on his own. Tommy would also try and convince him to slow down whenever Evan told him he was going to the gym or training; it didn’t always go well but at least he tried. Tommy also almost wanted to suggest therapy for Evan because he knew there was more driving these decisions than just Evan wanting to be back on the job. It was almost like Evan felt it was the only thing going for him.

(Tommy: Evan, maybe, you can take a day off from training?

Evan: I need to do this, Tommy, I need to get back to it

Tommy: It will still be there no matter how long you take, im sure other people have told you this)

Evan was having a bad day, he wasn’t replying the same and was constantly dodging Tommy’s suggestions of coming around, and having a movie day, something Evan had always been open to previously. Evan had been having a hard time when coming to training towards recertification, Tommy had been hearing it for the last week or so, Evan just wasn’t where he wanted to be. Tommy knew that Evan would make it back to the 118 and get through the recertification process he just needed to give himself time. A glance to his side where Willow was laying gave Tommy an idea to get Evan to maybe cheer up.

(Tommy: [Cat picture]

Tommy: [Cat picture]

Tommy: [Cat picture]

Evan: cat? When did you get a cat?

Evan: also CAT

Tommy: I got her shortly after you last came over, one of the other firefighters in Habor found her but couldn’t keep her. I could so took her in

Tommy: [Cat picture]

Evan: Im coming over to meet her, now, be prepared)

Tommy was beginning to plan his and Evans's celebratory meal for the day after Evans's celebratory BBQ with the 118. Evan had tried to get him to come to the BBQ, but Tommy wasn’t ready to see the 118 in person even if Evan had said they wanted to meet him, well not him, the Tommy that Evan had told them about. Eventually, he will see them again just not right now.

(Evan: are you sure you don’t wanna come to Bobby’s and Athena’s?

Tommy: yes, im looking forward to seeing you the day after. I’m not good at large gatherings anyway

Evan: if you are sure, we could do both

Tommy: im sure, you enjoy yourself, don’t worry about me)

[fannyyann]

Tkachuk tells NHL.com how change in approach lifted game for Panthers

Forward no longer playing it safe, becomes ultimate clutch player in Florida

FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. – There was a time in Matthew Tkachuk’s life when he played it safe. It’s hard to remember now, hard to get that image out of your head, the one where he is crushing opponents and taking over Stanley Cup Playoff games and literally walking off the ice after scoring a game-winning goal in the fourth overtime of Game 1 of the 2023 Eastern Conference Final. 

It’s hard to remember there was a before. 

But there was.

Once upon a time, like most mortals, Tkachuk didn’t want to make a mistake. He didn’t want to be blamed. He didn’t want to err, to let down his teammates, the fans, himself. It was a time when he wasn’t quite as confident, wasn’t quite as assured -- if that can be believed -- when he didn’t know that, for him, safe was the riskiest play of all. 

“I think maybe earlier in my career, being a young player, not wanting to be the guy that made the mistake, [I] maybe played a little bit safe in the high-pressure situations,” Tkachuk said. “Just trying to play it smart and, honestly, safe’s a perfect word for it. 

“And then a couple years ago, I was like, why not make the play when nobody else wants to try to attempt it because they’re too nervous [about] what bad’s gonna happen? And I’ve seemed to go the other way, in the extreme other way, and that’s seemed to work the last few years.”

Tkachuk pinpoints it exactly, to 2021-22, his final season with the Calgary Flames, before the trade, before he landed in South Florida and became a genre-crossing star, before he helped propel the Panthers to the Stanley Cup Final last season. 

“I was like, ‘Why not?’” Tkachuk said. “Why wouldn’t you want to be the guy that can make that right play at the last minute of the game or whatever? … I’m like, I’m capable, I feel like I’m a good enough player where I can be confident in myself no matter what the situation is. And that’s just kind of kept going.”

The Panthers and Tkachuk will need it to keep going, as they head to the playoffs having hit a tough skid of late. The Panthers, who are set to face the Boston Bruins at TD Garden on Saturday (3:30 p.m. ET; ABC, ESPN+, SN, TVAS), are 3-6-1 in their past 10 games, including a 6-0 win against the Ottawa Senators on Thursday. 

They are second in the Atlantic Division, four points behind the Bruins, having clinched a playoff spot on March 28, a far cry from last season when the Panthers clinched with a single game remaining on their schedule. They then fell behind 3-1 in the best-of-7 first-round series against the Bruins. That was when they -- and Tkachuk -- came roaring back to force a Game 7. To win that Game 7. 

“I knew what he could bring on a stage like that, but I don’t think the whole rest of the world knew what he could do,” brother and Senators captain Brady Tkachuk said. “So for him to show what he was all about is pretty cool. And I think he’s got another level to his game.”

Paul Maurice thinks he knows why. 

The Panthers coach has seen a handful of players in his career who are elite, who might even rise to the level of potential Hockey Hall of Fame players. And when he’s viewing them, he notes something, something that seems to be common to all of them.

“I watch them and they have a higher expectation of the result,” Maurice said. “And the analogy I used [was] when that guy goes in and buys a suit, he expects it to fit right and it’s going to look good. He has an expectation of the result. 

“With Matthew, it seems to me, it’s tied, there’s four minutes [left], he’s excited about that situation because he has a really high expectation that something good’s going to happen because over the course of his life, that’s exactly what’s happened. It wasn’t a lottery. It’s just he’s gone out and made it happen, so he wants to and believes it can. 

“I never sensed any arrogance on him. I truly have not. It’s not like, hey, give me the puck, I’m the shooter. He just thinks when he hits the ice, it could happen, and his life has told him that it could happen. So why wouldn’t you enjoy the hell out of that?”

Oh, and he is. 

Not only has South Florida been a revelation for Tkachuk, so too has the team, which has entered into the top echelon of the NHL. He has figured out himself and his game, not only that he can -- and will -- come up big in the biggest of moments, but that he can also adjust to fit what the team requires, mold his game to the situation. 

Asked if he is a chameleon, he readily agrees. 

Especially in the playoffs. 

“I look at those types of playoff games differently,” Tkachuk said. “Like some people if they’re not producing, they’re not doing too much to help their team, whereas one of the good things that I’m able to do is recognize what my team needs out of me on that particular night or that particular shift. 

“There are some nights when offense comes second and all I’m trying to do is run around, be physical, try to forecheck and try to gain my team momentum like that. Even if teams are keying in on me or really focusing on me, there’s ways to make an impact.”

No one can argue with that. The Bruins still bear the scars -- some literal, some figurative -- of what Tkachuk did to them in the playoffs last spring. 

In the final four games of the first-round series, Tkachuk had eight points (four goals, four assists) to help them win the best-of-7 series. 

Boston forward Trent Frederic, who traces his understanding of Tkachuk back to basement games as kids in St. Louis, said that he thinks that, likely, had Tkachuk not been on the Panthers, the Bruins would have advanced. 

But he was. They didn’t. And now it’s not hard to believe that many teams are uninterested in seeing the Panthers on the opposing bench in the playoffs, in seeing Tkachuk on the opposing bench. 

Before a cracked sternum forced him to miss the fifth and final game of the last season’s Cup Final, Tkachuk had 24 points (11 goals, 13 assists), including four game-winning goals, in 20 playoff games. 

“So the playoffs, I think the one quote, he’s a [expletive] gamer, that’s how I feel about him in the playoffs last year. And I know it’s profane, but it’s also very specific words, it’s exactly the way I feel about him,” Maurice said. “Sometimes the words just fit. Sometimes they’re casual and you swear too much. Sometimes I do. But that is how I -- a [expletive] gamer. He comes up with the biggest plays time and time again. And his energy level to be able to play at that level, that was specific to the hockey. 

“This year, I’ve gotten to watch what an incredible leader he is.”

He sees it on the bench, in the exhortation of his teammates, in his calming of them, in his barking at them. He sees it when he brought a friend and his two kids into the dressing room after a game in Detroit, when Tkachuk paused in his postgame showering routine to sign a jersey, to take a picture, to get Carter Verhaeghe out of the shower to sign the other jersey. 

“I don’t even blame players who don’t sign,” Maurice said. “But he doesn’t have to do that, and he does that consistently. … It’s not fake. It’s not showy. I think he understands the responsibility that he has and he takes care of it.”

There are so many responsibilities heaped on Tkachuk now. 

He is a leader on the ice and off it. He is the second-leading scorer, with 83 points (24 goals, 59 assists), the top chirper and certainly the most talked about player on the Panthers. And he is ready, once again, to receive that pressure. He is ready for the playoffs. He is ready for the eyes and the lights and all that comes with it.

“I enjoy it,” Tkachuk said. “I think that the high intense games and the rivalry games and the, just like the intense part of the games that some guys might not feel too confident or comfortable, I seem to thrive in them and I love those moments.”

There will be no shortage of those moments in the waning days of the season, in the start of the playoffs, as the Panthers attempt to replicate their Cinderella run to the Final last season -- without the Cinderella part. 

Because much like the Panthers, who have been at or near the top of the NHL all season, there will be no surprises when it comes to Tkachuk. He is known, now. Known for stealing games, for coming up big in the biggest moments, for never, ever playing it safe. 

And when the pressure comes, as it will, he will be right there. 

“Knowing him, that’s going to make him go to another level,” Brady Tkachuk said. “And I think for him, he’s going to love, not the spotlight, but the opportunity that comes from that and what he’s going to be able to do with that. He gets better when the pressure is higher.”

[bookishdaze]

My too long theory post about Mae as Reverse Caesar? This is multiple theories, really...

My theories on Mae's origins have ranged from her just being a lone smart girl among feral humans, to her coming from an underground civilization living in a bunker (My personal favorite. I like Fallout, lol).

Here's one that came to mind recently. It's not my main theory for her, (I still think she's just from some colony of smart humans) but it's my most "creative" and "crazy" one, but if people are allowed their crazy astronaut theories, THEN I'M ALLOWED THIS ONE ���

I'm gonna be calling her Mae/Nova for this.

Feel free to poke holes in this theory by the way, hehe.

This theory came to me after watching the new trailer, where we hear her being called "Nova," and we also get a shot of her riding on horseback with Raka. It reminded me a lot of Nova from War riding with Maurice.

So I thought, 'Huh, we're getting another blonde girl named Nova riding on horseback with an orangutan in the exact same way. It almost looks like the characters and plot for KOTPOTA could be a reworked version of what a plot could look like for a direct War sequel following a grown up Cornelius with Nova and Maurice and ohhhhhh-'

*puts on tinfoil hat* So my weird train of thought led me to this wacky theory: Mae/Nova is a human that was taken in by Raka as a child, and he has been raising and taking care of her. Just like Maurice did for Nova. She's kinda like Tarzan.

At first I had thought Raka met Mae/Nova because she was separated from her human colony and he was helping her get back home before they ran into Noa.

I also thought that maybe they come from a place where humans and apes already coexist, and I honestly still think either of these is the case tbh, but this part of a recent article made me think otherwise.

The "rabbit-in-headlights" bit makes me doubt she comes from a place where there are intelligent humans. (It's still possible she could be. I'll get to that later). To me this sounds like she's smarter, but still has some "animal" behaviors.

As for why Raka took her in, it can totally just be coincidence that we have another friendly orangutan who adopted a young girl.

Or maybe it became some sort of, ehh, tradition? Him wearing a necklace with Caesar's symbol and talking about how apes and humans used to live side by side makes him sound like a religious person. Maybe somewhere along the line, it became custom for those who follow his faith to "adopt a Nova" to raise and take care of, like Maurice did.

There is a difference, though. Raka could have been taking care of Mae/Nova, but he still sees her as an...well, an animal. A very smart animal that he feels a responsibility towards. I know him viewing her as an animal sounds pretty harsh, but keep in mind that humans have regressed to be like animals at this point.

And there's also this scene where he just....tosses her some food. It's no different from the way humans toss a friendly animal some food, really.

"But why does she seem frightened by the apes at the fireplace if she's been raised by Raka?"

I think she's scared of Noa here.

Orangutans are actually solitary creatures (I googled, lol), so it's very possible that it's just been her and Raka, and any newcomer makes her nervous.

Ok ok ok, so he's a guy who has taken in an animal that shows signs of intelligence and has taken it upon himself to nurture and care for this animal because his personal beliefs tell him that in doing so, he could potentially make the world a better place.

Like Will did with Caesar.

"So she's reverse Caesar." Yeah. That's pretty much what I've been trying to get at with all my rambling. Yay, parallels!

And we know Will cared for Caesar, but he always saw him as an animal. A very smart animal, but an animal nonetheless. He had him on a leash, and as much as he didn't want to, he still took him to the primate shelter. It wasn't Will being cruel, he just treated Caesar the way any human would have treated an animal, no matter how close they are.

Of course, like Caesar, Mae/Nova is gonna go through some changes. She's a young girl growing into adulthood. She'll have "needs and wants," as this article states.

Those needs and wants could be many things. To be regarded as equal. No longer wanting to feel inferior. And if she truly is some lone smart girl among a world of feral humans, she's also gonna feel really really lonely. (Think about it. If she does not come from a colony of smart humans and she truly is the only one, that's tragic. I'd be depressed, man).

So she'll also want friendship and companionship. To have a friend or anyone she can relate with. She'll most likely find this with Noa, since the article says, "...there are far more parallels and commonalities between the two of them than they might have originally imagined."

Okay, one question came to mind when coming up with this theory.

Why is she smarter than other humans? I got a few theories.

Theory 1. She could still be someone who grew up in a colony of intelligent humans, whether it be a colony in an underground bunker or anywhere else. It doesn't matter. But something terrible may have happened, like her colony was killed off, or she was separated from them as a little girl. Then Raka found her and took her in. Like Tarzan!

Theory 2. This one and the third one won't be as satisfying to fans, I assume. But maybe Raka noticed a lone child that was smarter than most, and he decided to take her in and help her intelligence grow.

Theory 3. She started off as an unintelligent feral girl, but being raised by an ape allowed her to slowly gain her intelligence back. I actually like this one. For starters, it's similar to the Planet of the Apes novel from 1963, where one of the astronauts became feral and unintelligent because of spending too much time in a cage with feral humans at a zoo, and Nova actually gained the ability to speak and became intelligent after spending a year or two in space with Ulysse, the protagonist.

Theory 4. She's like Megamind where she was launched into space from an alien planet as a baby while her homeworld burned all around her and she crash landed onto Earth. THERE'S YOUR ASTRONAUT THEORY.

I'm kidding. That was a joke. I know April Fool's was two days ago.

As for her name, we've gotten three so far. Mae, Nova, and Echo. I like to think of her name as a sort of symbol or indicator of her character growth, where I assume she'll gain the ability to speak at the end, or will have grown into herself as a person.

She'll start off as Nova. A common generic name given to all humans, given to her by Raka.

Then Echo. A more unique name given to her by Noa, but still not her own.

Then, finally, Mae. Her true unique name that she was either born with, or she picks out for herself.

Aaaaand I think that's it. I'm done. I know that was long, but I wanted to gather all of my thoughts and theories on Mae/Nova somewhere before I watch the movie in a month. Whatever her story is, I cannot wait to see it unfold. Now it's time for me to SLEEP.

[thegrinningghost]

LOTF-TOBER DAY 4 : Underrated Character(s)

I’m chronically indecisive, so deal with it =]

(fluff before the major angst of prompt 3)

` ~   Maurice is the second oldest of twelve, but he always says he only has seven siblings bcz that’s the most people will believe

` ~  Bill’s color-blind

` ~  “Bill, I said red clay, not white!”

` ~  “What– Merridewww, they look the same!”

` ~  Eric is taller than Sam, but younger

` ~  He’s also more empathetic and cowardly than his twin

` ~  Bill’s Pagan, Simon would’ve been, and Jack has been in denial about his religious beliefs ever since getting off the island (he’s in denial about lot)

` ~  Maurice and Jack bond over Queer mythology/history

` ~  Maurice is Genderfluid

` ~  He’s also the second tallest Biggun (Harold being the first)

` ~  Harold looks intimidating, but is actually really sweet and gives the best hugs

` ~  He always got Mauri + Jack out of the trouble they would get into at school

` ~  Harold’s a band kid, Maurice is a theater kid

` ~  Maurice has scars from when he was punished and scolded by adults; he covers them up with bracelets and bandannas

` ~  Roger sweet-talks his way out of everything

` ~  “Well Simon never said stop, soo  .   .   .  “   (when asked why he didn’t tell everyone that it was Simon, not the Beast)

` ~  Percival collects crocheted plushies

` ~  Wilfred has two siblings; a brother (Clerval) and sister (Elizabeth)

` ~  He’s a big nerd about science, particularly psychology, and how it can influence human behaviors

` ~  Johnny looked up to Jack up until they were on the island, and then he started feeling like he was being pushed away (he was)

` ~  Jack saw him as a little annoying, but also enjoyed his presence, as he always wanted a younger sibling, but his cousins were too much for him to ever think of them outside of cousins

` ~  Phil grew severe insomnia from all the nightmares he had on the island

` ~  Henry was a bully sometimes, but he did it because his cousin, the Mulberry kid, was always bullied, and so he bullies others so they won’t think to bully his lil cuz

` ~  Absolutely heart-breaking when he went up to his Uncle, explaining that his son died in the fire on the island, and implying that they won’t even have a body to bury because nobody ever found him

` ~  Sam’nEric are Swedish and Russian, with a hint of Scandinavian heritage coming from their cousin (who you all will know soon enough)

` ~  The Mulberry kid (I think he’s the same as Adam Jackson?), has Vitiligo (the Birthmark is a separate thing that he got from his dad)

` ~  Harold and Maurice are cousins, which you can see from their height, but not much else

` ~  Johnny is blonde, and also has Poliosis, which Ralph thinks makes him look really cool

` ~  Percival loves fairytales, and believes in fairies

I swear that Day 3 is coming out soon, I just have a lot for it, and didn't get much done originally bcz I had Marching Band, so give me some grace, I promise it'll be worth it!

I'm excited to have you all read it, actually, so it should be out tomorrow or the day after! Anyway, hope you guys liked these headcanons! I think they're pretty funky =]

[howlsmovingmind]

The phrase “The Oscar Wilde sort” is one of my favorite things ever. It used to be as readily understood as “fruity” is now, but if I tell someone I’m “the Oscar Wilde sort”, ALMOST EVERYONE AROUND ME IS CONFUSED. And that’s hilarious.

“Friend of Dorothy” has, in a way, kept its previous meaning and use because it’s still coded to be something mostly only queer people understand. My brother is a well read person whom I typically expect to understand my references. I said something like, “Well, I am a friend of Dorothy after all.” And he looked at me with such confusion. My brother, the most well read person I have met in my small town (keeps himself informed on current events, history, and internet culture) didn’t know queer history hardly at all. Lavender Menace, Lavender Scare, the YMCA, Sappho, the word Sapphic, Plato and his Platonic ideals, cowboys, or Polari.

This made me realize just how little cishet people know about queer history. Maybe even how little queer people know about queer history. We aren’t really taught these things in the States and the people around us don’t typically have knowledge about any of it either. We have to go digging for it because we want to know about the people like us. We want to know more about our history. Because it is ours. It’s personal and special.

Him not knowing these bits of history confused me. I thought, for some reason, he knew everything I knew and then some. But he was just as uninformed as I was. But he didn’t care. Because it didn’t mean anything for him. (And that’s not a problem!) Polari seems like a dead language a lot of the time. But interactions like this make me realize that there is actually still a place for it. Because, really, it has evolved to look and sound different, but it’s still there.

I feel like I’ve lost the plot of this post, but I’m gonna keep going because I want to.

Queer history is so beautiful and human. It’s so unbelievably human. That’s why literature like “The Picture of Dorian Gray”, “The Price of Salt”, and “Maurice” are so important. Sappho’s poems and knowing they’re about women is important. Knowing Walt Whitman was queer is important. Knowing Emily Dickinson was queer is important. This is a whole group of people who have been hidden from the public eye and hated and scorned and killed because of who they love. And it is about who they love. You cannot tell me this is simply about the physical aspect of it all. Because it’s not. It’s really not. The AIDs crisis? There was no way that was just about having sex. AIDS was such a problem because they wouldn’t help the queer people affected by it. Only when straight couples were being affected did they do anything.

Queer shipping does not lose the plot of stories or discount everything that a piece of media has explored and built up. Like people shipping Anderperry. It’s not a crazy thing! It does not take away from Neil’s acting being a point of contention between him and his father. It could add a layer to maybe why it was such a big deal beyond his father simply being a controlling jerk and not allowing Neil to engage in something outside of what he’s “supposed” to do. Mr. Perry made Neil drop the school paper at the beginning because it would be “distracting”. We know that Mr. Perry is controlling and never would have allowed Neil to act no matter what. Because it wasn’t the plan. But Neil being queer adds a layer to this narrative that a lot of people have seen and found themselves in. It doesn’t have to distract from the story and the themes that the author or creator is presenting. It can add a layer. I mean, Walt Whitman being such a huge part of the film and message all throughout adds to the queer message.

I just think that… it’s interesting and important and it means more to so many people than we assume. History and every aspect of humanity is important.

And saying “I’m the Oscar Wilde sort” is objectively hilarious.

An Oscar Wilde Fan,

Howl

[80ssuperstar]

Here's another Story Script I wanted to do which is a part from Madagascar Escape 2 Africa 🌍 When Alex and Marty tries to find the Water from the Humans and Gloria Rescuing Melman from the Volcano Sacrifice 🔥

This Time I want to change the characters from Regular Show which is the following:

Benson as Alex

Rigby as Marty

Mordecai as Melman

Samantha ( @80ssuperstar ) as Gloria

Hot Dog Leader as King Julien

Fat Hot Dog as Maurice

"Operation Water Rescue: The Volcano Dilemma"

[In the woods, Benson and Rigby go to look for the clog.]

Rigby: Is this place starting to freak you out?

Benson: We'll slip in, find the problem. Hunters will never know we were here.

Rigby: Why are we doing this?

Benson: Look Rigby, maybe my dad will think I'm... I just want to show him I'm a real Boss.

Rigby: As opposed to a chocolate Boss.

Benson: Shh. I know this may sound hard to believe; but apparently, Bosses don't dance.

Rigby: [shocked] WHAT?!?

Benson: SHH!! As far as my dad is concerned.

Rigby: As far as people are concerned, you're a huge hit.

Benson: That was California. This is Africa... it's much tougher crowd. Rigby! Rigby, this is it! This is the clog! Come on.

Rigby: Well, there's the water.

(Rigby drinks some of the water. While Rigby is drinking the water, Benson notices Nana)

Benson: Rigby, stay down. Look at that.

Nana: Knit one, purl two.

Benson: It's her.

Man: Is this right?

Nana: Very good.

Man: Nana, slow down.

Nana: You're a little tangled, aren't you? No, don't pull. I'll do it.

Benson: We need dynamite. Got any dynamite?

Rigby: (loudly) Oh, snap! I just used my last stick this morning!

[Benson tells to quiet down, but an arrow hits the fruit hat of shame 🏹]

Rigby: Savages!

Benson: Evasive maneuvers!

Rigby: Serpentine, serpentine!

Benson: Squiggly squid maneuver!

Rigby: Zag, zig-zag, zig ziggy zag!

Benson: No, no! Squiggly squid!

Rigby: Etch A Sketch! Etch A Sketch! Etch A Sketch!

Benson: That's too complex! Octopus, octopus!

Rigby: Benson!

Benson: Run, Rigby!

Rigby: Come on, I can't leave you here!

Benson: Go get help! Squiggly squid maneuver! Go! Go! Squiggly squid!

Rigby: ETCH A SKETCH!!! ETCH A SKETCH!!!

[The camera changes to the volcano where Mordecai, Wearing a White Orchid Flower Cowrie Shells Veil Headwear, 4 Flower Lei's, Black and White Feathers on his Ankles and Wrist, is about to go into the lava, but he is looking to the deep of the volcano.]

Mordecai: OK. OK, OK, OK. OK, here we go. OK, OK. Here we go! Here we go!

Joe: What's all the hoopla about?

Blue Jay: Joe?

Blue Jay 2: Joe the Witch Doctor? We thought you were dead!

Joe: So did I. Then I realized I'm covered in brown spots.

Blue Jay: So, Mordecai's not dying! [suddenly realizing the truth] Mordecai's not dying!

Blue Jay 1: Oh, no!

Samantha: Excuse me! Mordecai!! Move! Don't do this! Hot Dog Leader, stop this! This is crazy!

Hot Dog Leader: Oh, suddenly throwing a blue jay into a volcano to make water is crazy!

Samantha: Yes! Please, Mordecai! STOOOP!!!! 😱😱

Mordecai: Samantha? 😯

Samantha: You can't do this! 😭😭

Mordecai: Why not?

Samantha: Because...Oh! 😯😯

[But as she could finish, she trips which causes cracks to come out, Mordecai is shocked at what he's seeing, he runs up, but begins to fall. Samantha stops him from falling]

Samantha: You can't do this, Mordecai. 😢😢

Mordecai: First of all, that hurts. Second of all, I've only got 18 hours to live, anyway. 😢😢

Samantha: Mordecai, I gotta know...did you really mean those things you said about me? 🥹🥰

Mordecai: Of course I did. 🥲🥲

Samantha: That's crazy 😧😧

Mordecai: It Is? 😟😟

Samantha: It's crazy to think I had to go halfway around the world... to find out that the perfect guy for me lived right next door. 🥹🥹☺️😊

Mordecai: Then I guess it's you and me, neighbor. You and me for the next 18 hours. 😻😻😻

Samantha: I'll take whatever you got 🥹❤️🩵

Hot Dog Leader: WHOA WHOA WHOA Fat Hot Dog, what just happened?! 😱😱😱

Fat Hot Dog: I believe the Hot Sassy lady has sung. 😏❤️

HERE'S THE END TO THE PART! 〽️ I Hope you guys love it!!!

------

For: @fxe4596 , @nicomxm23 , @mordorigs , @jgquintelslut , @pinkcandycatmakesart , @anifaz , @isrrael120 , @notadumbdog , @martingeekermmd , @eeveepalooza , @apollothedeity , @sidoresca , @siinhorhy , @insomniacz , @rhyliethecaterfly , @yeetafry , @at-weeb96 , @kiwithekool11437 , @kiko2032 , @orchestralauthor , @untitled14360 , @loudlyhappycupcake

[handgiven]

sentences from Maurice (1987) && some from the original book thrown in for good measure

feel free to change pronouns however you like .)

"what's the world like, do you suppose?"

"i think i shan't marry."

"music is about death, it always has been."

"what you do is more important than what you say."

"will you ever forget you've met me?"

"but i am a child of light–"

"salutations! you've bargained for more than you've gained!"

"sweet water from a foul well, as they say."

"you should get as far away from the machine as you can."

"there, i've told you something no one else in the world knows."

"you think i don't think, but i can tell you i do!"

"have you been all right?"

"you must know that to be alone with you hurts me."

"you don't know what hell is really like."

"it's like the good blundering creature that you are to try to comfort me, but there are limits."

"i'm thankful that it was into your hands i fell."

"i would have gone through life half-awake if you'd had the decency to leave me alone."

"i am satisfied that you will pay for this for the rest of your life."

"stop crying, it'll only make him feel he's important."

"i don't have to tell you how much i miss you."

"one oughtn't to have secrets, or they get worse."

"you and i are outlaws."

"i risk everything, and gladly, because the one thing i dread losing is you."

"there are other ways to be happy, you know?"

"i'm an unspeakable of the oscar wilde sort."

"england has always been disinclined to accept human nature."

"aren't women extraordinary?"

"i just wanted to show you that i hadn't forgotten the past."

"did you ever dream you had a friend, someone to last your whole life?"

"what, you ashamed to be seen with me?"

"you said 'call me [first name], but you never even wrote to me."

i was frightened, and you let yourself get afraid of me. that's why we're trying to down each other."

"pity we ever met, if you think about it."

"i'm more sorry for you than i could possibly say."

"i'm flesh and blood, if you'll condescend to such low things."

"i was yours once, till death if you'd cared to keep me, but i'm someone else's now and he's mine in a way that shocks you."

"why don’t you stop being shocked, and attend to your own happiness?"

"now we shan't ever be parted. it's finished."

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

*sad Victorian child voice* Please, I need some more Prince Soma x reader, with Soma rescuing reader from her abusive home life. When I first was in high school and gushing over the prince, I always imagined a passionate love affair that at first is limited to letters (perhaps they met through Cole who is a mutual friend that introduced them to cheer up reader) And then eventually this beautiful man shows up on a white horse (elephant? It’s Soma after all, he’d save you in the loudest most obnoxious way possible) to save the day.

well reach into my chest and rip out my heart why don'tcha

I love this so much tho he's such a good boy!!! <3

You feel bad about it, but you’ve sometimes thought that you should burn all the letters that SOMA has sent you.

It would be better than your family finding them, wouldn’t it? Your parents have always tried to crush any good thing you’ve had. If they found these messages from a man you’ve fallen in love with, if they read the contents of these letters, they would put a stop to it immediately. That’s the only reason you’ve considered burning the letters after reading them.

You can’t bring yourself to do it, though. Every word that Soma has ever written you is like a ray of sunlight shining into your life. That very first one he ever sent you started with, Dearest (Name), We do not know each other yet, but I’m hoping to change that. My name is Prince Soma Asman Kadar, and my close friend Maurice Cole asked if I would write you because he knows you’re lonely and your family does not treat you nicely. So, I am writing you in the hopes that I can be your friend! Hello! It’s very nice to meet you!

God, if only you’d known what would follow. In the beginning, Soma became a good friend of yours… one of the few you have. You can remember writing Maurice and thanking him, mentioning that if Soma didn’t want to continue talking to you, he was free to tell Soma to stop sending letters.

However, the prince’s enthusiasm for speaking with you became clearer and clearer with every letter he sent. He uses too many exclamation points, perhaps because he’s always excited about everything. About talking to you, in particular, it seems. Soon enough these friendly correspondences slowly transitioned into ardent love letters.

People would be shocked to see the things you and Soma write to each other. He has no sense of shame; you think that’s one of the things you love about him. He wants to kiss you, all over your body, and he says so plainly as many times as he can, and he doesn’t care who knows it.

No matter how isolated and worthless you feel at home, trapped here despite being an adult who should be out on her own by now, you can always count on Soma to tell you how much he loves you. You haven’t burned those letters because Soma’s love has brought you back to life, and rereading them when you feel alone and unlovable has pulled you back from the edge of despair so many times.

When the latest one arrives, however, you’re not sure what to think except that your mind is trying to panic. This letter is uncharacteristically short for Soma, and there isn’t a single exclamation point to be seen.

Dearest (Name), Princess of My Heart,

Your pain is almost over.

We are going to be together soon, I promise.

And when I come to you, “happily ever after” will be yours at last.

Wait for me, priya.

Love Forever,

Soma

Weeks pass after that letter, without another one. It’s not unusual to go for a week or sometimes two without any messages from Soma, so you try to tell your heart to settle down.

This time just feels different. That last letter you got from him carried some air of finality, and although he’s said similar things that the two of you will be together soon, the way he wrote this one sounds like a sacred vow.

Like he really is on his way, after all this time.

You’re rereading it for what feels like the millionth time, up in your room, when suddenly, you hear something outside which sounds like… the trumpet of an elephant?

Your heartbeat freezes as you remember Soma mentioning that he owns elephants. There was at least one letter he sent you wherein that he made you a solemn promise that he’d take you riding on one someday after he came to rescue you.

Sometimes you think all that talk was just that ― prattle of things that would never actually happen, even if they were nice to think about.

Then you hear the door open downstairs, and someone is calling for you. “(Name)! Excuse me, ma’am, I’m here to see (Name) (Surname)! Yes, I am Prince Soma Asman Kadar! She knows me very well. (Name)! Priya, I’m here! I’m finally here!”

You’ve never gone down the stairs as fast as you do upon hearing all of this. So that’s what Soma’s voice sounds like…? That beautiful accent of his, that bubbly tone, the way you can hear him smiling even though you can’t see him yet. There’s no mistake.

That’s him. That’s your prince, trying to fight his way past the maids.

You’re down into the foyer before any of the staff can summon your parents. “Soma!”

You race toward him, this gorgeous man you’ve never seen before but who your heart would know even if you were blind. His hair is violet, his eyes are gold, and his smile is just as incredible as you’ve dreamed about.

“Soma!” You’re crying as you run into his arms. He catches you like he’s been waiting his whole life to hold you, and you can feel him kissing your head while you bury your face in his neck. You may be holding him too tightly. You don’t care. “Is it really you…?”

His laugh vibrates through your entire being. However tightly you’re holding him, he must be holding you twice as tightly. His arms feel so secure, some safe place you’ve never known until him. You’ve dreamed about this moment a thousand times.

“It’s me, priya. I’m finally here!” As soon as you move your face from his neck, he leans down to kiss you. Your whole body responds, arching into him. You swear your soul is a flower turning toward the light of his. He kisses you ferociously, yearningly, and his hands press in against your back. When you draw apart, his eyes sparkle at you. “I’m sorry we had to wait so long. But guess what? I’ve come to take you away.”

Your heart almost stops again. He can’t mean…? “Take… take me away?” Is this happening? Are you actually going to leave this horrible place and start a life with Soma like the two of you have talked about?

He nods eagerly. “Yes! I have a ring for you at the townhouse, but… there are lots of things to plan. You’re going to come be with me, though, from now on. You won’t stay here with people who don’t treat you like a princess. Are you ready to ride on an elephant?” he grins. As if it’s the most normal question in the world.

You don’t even know what to say. All you can do is let your tears fall down your face as you return his nod, and he reaches up to cup your face in his hands.

The way he looks at you is a way you never knew anyone could look at you. It becomes apparent to you that as much as you’ve been searching for your prince, he’s been searching for his princess. The two of you have been waiting for each other, and you can finally be together.

“I’m going to take you away from here,” he murmurs, before kissing you again. “We’re going to get married, priya. We’re going to find a big, beautiful house of our own, and we’re going to have babies, and you’ll never have to worry about anything ever again. I’m going to take care of you, and I’m going to tell you every day how much I love you.”

It sounds perfect. Too perfect. This isn’t another dream, is it?

You break your gaze from him, only to look over at the shocked maids. “… Tell my parents that I’ve run off with a prince, and I am never speaking to them again.”

To their credit, the maids exchange one glance with each other before nodding. “Good luck, Lady (Name).”

Soma sweeps you up into his arms, and right out the door.

Part of you feels a little bad that you’re leaving the letters he wrote you behind.

But you don’t need them anymore.

You’ve got him now, and you have no doubts that he’ll make you feel just as loved as you felt reading his letters.

‘Happily ever after’ was never an ending, you think. It’s the beginning of the rest of your life.

[ihavewritersblockbutinreallife]

Someone tell me why, wen I was telling my coworker how hard it was raining on my way to work, I said "yeah it was intense", my immediate next thought was "pfft no stupid it was in a car durr"

For those of you who don't get it it's in the tags

[paperandsong]

Le Moine des Étangs-Brisses

From Légendes rustiques, illustrated by Maurice Sand, written by George Sand, 1858

Original French at Project Gutenberg

English translation:

Passers-by who walk along the marshes under the sun’s last rays, beware that gigantic monk who suddenly rises up from amidst the reeds. Flee, and don't listen to his damnable talk!

- Maurice Sand

Jeanne and Pierre lingered one Sunday along the Étangs-Brisses (Broken Ponds). This is not a cheerful place, much less so at night. Once past the woods, one arrives on a large, barren plateau, where there are only rushes and sand and large puddles of water which run together in the rainy season to form a sort of lake, whose bed appears all black.

In times gone by, a wicked, wine-drunk monk drowned there along with his donkey, having tried to follow a very narrow little roadway covered over with water. The donkey had never done anything wrong, and was never even heard braying; but this libertine monk was doomed to feel the pangs of death and the agonies of his final hour for as long as there remained a single drop of water in the Étangs-Brisses. Now, although civilization encroaches on the edges of these little lakes, further with every passing year, they do not show any sign of drying up; therefore the monk’s torment continues on, and will last for God knows how much longer! 

Jeanne was well aware of the bad reputation of these ponds, but Pierre did not want to believe the stories, nor did he care about them. He prevented her from thinking about them, telling her all manner of things, lovely and agreeable to Jeanne’s ears. They were engaged to be married and were just returning from the city, where they had picked out their wedding livery, which is to say, new clothes, ribbons, and lace for their big day. They were out walking together, holding each other by the little finger as is customary for the betrothed, when their feet stepped into mud on the roadway. The day before, a large thunderstorm had swollen the pond, overflowing its banks a bit.

“You’ve gotten me lost,” Jeanne said to her lover. “I don’t think this is the right path.”

“Just wait and I’ll get my bearings,” Pierre replied. “It’s true, the sun has gone down and the reeds are all black, they all look the same. Stay here a little while, and I'll go see how to find our way out.” 

Jeanne was tired; she sat down in the reeds and looked up at the red sky, all speckled, which is to say, it was marbled with yellow and brown, and her thoughts turned sad, although she could not say why. “If it were really nighttime,” she thought, “I wouldn't want to be alone in this awful place where that monk died so long ago. Oh, I hope Pierre won’t make a wrong turn in all this wild grass!” She followed him with her eyes for as long as she could, but then she could not see him anymore, and her poor body began to tremble.

All of a sudden she saw a large flock of wild ducks fly up from one side, making such noise; and then, rising up on tiptoe, she saw Pierre returning, amusing himself by throwing pebbles into the water to rouse the other flocks of birds that filled the ponds as night came descending from the sky.

When Pierre reached her side, he said to her, “We are on the right path, and we’ll be fine except for a little mud. Let me catch my breath a minute; I walked pretty fast, and besides, this isn’t such a bad place to rest.”

“It’s funny you think it’s nice here, Pierre; I don’t like it, and it feels like I’ve been here a long time already. Rest up quickly, because I want to get out of here before nightfall.”

Once Pierre seated himself alongside Jeanne in the reeds, he said to her, 

“My God, Jeanne, time must have dragged on for me, too, while I was out there walking, because it feels like I haven’t kissed you for two years.”

“Don’t say that!” she replied. “You kissed me not even two quarters of an hour ago.”

“Well, then! My darling, where is the harm in that?”

“I’m not saying there is any, since we are getting married!”

“And so let me have one more little kiss now, or seven.”

Jeanne let herself be kissed just once, and said that that was enough. She didn’t see any mischief in it, but she knew that even if country people are permitted to kiss their betrothed while out walking, in front of passers-by, it is neither proper nor honest se dire ses amitiés in secret from the world, and to stay for too long in places where no one goes.

Pierre was a proper young man, just as he should be, which is to say that he knew how to behave in the right way, and was content to let Jeanne keep him at a safe distance, and he didn’t play that game of overstepping his rights little by little only to have the pleasure of receiving a good slap from her from time to time, which is, as everyone knows, the greatest mark of trust and friendship.

And after they bickered in this friendly fashion for a little while, they began to talk about the future, which is still a very exciting topic between two people who are about to spend the rest of their lives together. And there they were, counting and recounting their meagre assets, building themselves a new house and planting a pretty little garden, if only in their minds; for these poor children didn’t have much, and they had to work hard just to keep hold of what they did have.

But now a voice which Pierre could not hear began to speak to Jeanne as though it were Pierre’s, while a voice began to speak to Pierre as though it were Jeanne’s, and yet it was not, and Jeanne did not hear that either. And so they thought they were saying things to each other that they were not, and found themselves on bad terms without really knowing why. Jeanne reproached Pierre for being lazy and for loving the cabaret; Pierre reproached Jeanne for being a coquette and over-valuing gallantry. And so they both started to tear up and pout, not wanting to talk anymore.

The astonishing thing was that when they stopped speaking, and couldn’t even see one another’s lips moving, they both still heard a very muffled voice which sounded like that of a frog or a wild duck when it spoke, and which said the most wicked words in the world.

“What are you doing, you children, sulking instead of taking advantage of the night and your solitude? Are you foolishly waiting for the end of the week in order to love one another freely? What a load of nonsense marriage is! Don’t you know that marriage is just pain, misery, quarrels, worrying about children, and days without bread? Come on, come on, you innocents! You’ll cry the very next day after your wedding, if you don’t fight instead! Can’t you see that when you wanted to talk about your future and your household just now, you couldn’t get along?

Life is foolish and miserable, make no mistake; you’d do well to forget your duties and seek pleasure without constraint. Love each other now, for if you do not take advantage of the moment that presents itself, you will never find it again, and no one will know anything about your partnership except by its blows and its insults, those flowers of youth that sting, and those wild oats!”

Jeanne and Pierre were very afraid. They held hands and clasped each other tight without daring to breathe. Jeanne understood nothing of what the wicked voice said to them. The words passed right through her ears like those of some Devil's Mass spoken in defiance of reason; but Pierre, who knew more, listened despite his fear and understood almost everything.

“This voice is ugly, I agree,” he said. “But its words are not wrong, and if you trust me, Jeanne, you might listen to it too.”

“Whether its words are beastly or beautiful, I don't care,” she replied. “They scare me, although I don't understand them at all; someone is laughing at us because we are all alone, trapped in an unpleasant place. Let's go quickly, my Pierre. This person here, living or dead, wants to do us nothing but harm.”

“No, Jeanne, they wish us well, because they pity the fate that awaits us, and if you’d just understand what they are saying . . .”

And then Pierre, feeling himself possessed by the Devil, wanted to restrain Jeanne, as she wanted to leave, and that evil spirit believed itself for a moment to be the stronger of them.

But the spawn of evil isn’t able to do good Christians as much harm as it wishes. The libertine monk, seeing that Pierre’s conscience had stumbled, was in too much of a hurry to claim his soul. He sang out in his marshy voice, “Come, come, my dear children, there’s no need for candles nor witnesses here. If you need someone to declare you two wed, I can speak the right words. Get down on your knees before me, and you’ll have the blessing of Beelzebub!”

Saying this, the monk appeared, broaching the water with his huge head under its muddy cowl.

“Oh, help!” cried Jeanne. “There’s a big otter, and it’s coming to attack us!”

“No, it won’t,” said Pierre. “I’ll turn it back with my walking-stick.”

But as he leaned over the water to look, he saw the monk's fiery eyes, and then he saw his beard all stuffed full of leeches and frogs, and then his rotting body with its withered legs and its two long arms all dripping with moss and slime, which he was spreading out wide like two wings over the heads of the two lovers in order to consecrate them unto Satan.

But Pierre, although he wasn’t a great coward, was so shocked to see this monk arise and grow ever and ever upwards, as though he wanted to reach the very clouds, that he simply fled screeching like a rusty axle and running like a hare, pulling that poor Jeanne behind him, she who was now more dead than alive, and yet who did not need to be told to leap across those roadways with her feet wet and her hair blowing in the wind.

In fact, they ran so well that they reached their parents’ homes without once turning their heads, and without once taking the time to exchange a single word. They married in all sanctity eight days later, without having listened to the advice of that wicked monk who was, it is said, so embarrassed at having missed his catch that he stayed dormant for a long time before daring to reappear and attempt fishing for Christian souls once more.

The belief in some gruff monk who goes about both threatening and plaintive, knocking on the doors of houses at night and withdrawing at daybreak only with horrible howls, was once only proverbial.

This has long been maintained in almost every province of France. There are many legends of debauched monks, and of priests who broke their vows. There are few presbyteries never haunted by any tormented souls such as these, and, as of the last twenty years, there are few country churches where the spirit of some dead priest has never appeared at dawn to attempt to deliver a great expiatory Mass that he is never able to complete unless he can find a living person of good will who has the courage to answer him with an amen.

George SAND

[firawren]

“The Rose Brides” A Beauty and the Beast retelling fanfic

Chapter 17, “Trust,” rated G, now posted on AO3!

Summary:

Lord Adam, born a beast from an ancestral and unbreakable curse, is determined to live in solitude so that his bloodline and curse will finally end with him. Yet magic intervenes and puts a young woman named Belle in his life, bound to his palace from an enchanted rose she plucked. Adam wants nothing to do with this woman who ruined his plans. He certainly is not going to fall in love with her, no matter how sweet and fun and clever he discovers her to be. Belle is not happy to be trapped at the eerie palace either. She had plans to become a famous author and travel the world. But she’s determined to make the best of her situation by making a friend, or maybe something more, if she can ever get this cranky yet strangely kind beast to open up to her.

Chapters 17/20 now posted | Belle/Beast | rated M overall

Other characters: Mrs. Potts, Cogsworth, Maurice, minor original characters

Key tags: Alternate Universe, Love, Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, Shame, Self-Sacrifice, Magic, see full list of tags on AO3

Excerpt from Chapter 17:

One day, Adam told her he wanted to show her something in his room, and she was happy to go along with him letting her further into his world. But as soon as Adam approached his dresser, Belle knew what he was going to show her. And when he took out the folder of drawings of his mother Suzanne, she spoke up. “I feel like I should tell you that I’ve seen these drawings of your mother.”

Adam raised his brows. “You…went through my things?”

“In my defense, it was when you were gone, and I was only trying to find one of your shirts to, um,”—her cheeks heated—“smell it, because I missed you so much. But then I saw that folder, and, well…”

He gave her an exasperated half-smile. “You were curious.”

She forced a pained smile and shrugged. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to invade your privacy.”

He shrugged too. “I don’t really mind. I’m not angry. I should apologize too, for lying to you about what I draw. I don’t just draw plants, I drew these as well.” He opened the folder to expose the first drawing, gazing down at it. “I’m not even sure why I lied about that, but…I guess I just wasn’t ready to talk about her, yet. I could have just said that, though.”

Belle was touched that he was willing to talk about his mom to her now. He really was trying to let her in to see the parts of him that left him tender and vulnerable. “It’s alright. You didn’t know me that well, then. You still don’t have to tell me now, if you’re not ready to.”

“No, I want to. She was important to me, and, uh, you’re important to me too.” Belle was certain he’d be blushing if his skin wasn’t covered in fur, with how bashful he looked admitting that.

Continue reading on AO3

[stellarred]

ONE MORE TIME, PLEASE

In STP S2's Monsters episode, I thought it was Bashir that Picard was in the therapy session with.

Surprise! It wasn't Alexander Siddig (?), but actor James Callas of Battlestar Galactica fame.

Anyways, I looked him up, and in his filmography on different websites and in Memory Alpha Star Trek, his credit is not Julian Bashir, but Maurice Picard/ "illusory" psychiatrist!

This then raises the question again, Was it actually Q disguised and playing the psychiatrist? 😳

If Q was involved, either actively or passively, it's either one of two choices:

A. It WAS Q because he was trying to help Picard figure out that his father wasn't a monster, thus guiding Picard to * suddenly* realize that Q wasn't one either and that Picard should "know" Q (love him). And that by the psychiatrist literally handing him the Sun model and drawing, it reminded Picard of something he loves, which is Q.

Picard said that the therapy session was antagonistic. Sounds like a certain desperate and in love omnipotent entity scrambling to help his beloved capitaine confront and overcome long-standing CPTSD, so that he could open his heart to love before said entity died. Q was literally running out of time before his death. He would've HAD more time if the writers hadn't been farting around so much with all of the other characters' dramas. But, I digress.

The psychiatrist practically needles Picard throughout the therapy session about him being closed off from his heart and slams his decision to engage in a suicide mission just so that he didn't have to face his feelings. Sounds like Q is trying to save Picard AGAIN! This "psychiatrist" was really pushing pushing Picard during the therapy session.

It makes me think of what JDL had said about Q in Season 2:

"The intentions (towards Picard) are the same. I'm still Picard's main squeeze. And I'm pushing."

Or...

B. Picard's own mind came up with this psychiatrist because he desperately wants to heal, not hide away his feelings.

Therefore, if Picard's own mind is being so emotional about hiding AND inserting Q's Sun representation twice, which then makes Picard wake up and tell Talinn all that Qcard stuff about the lesson being about *knowing* him, then Picard is internally struggling to overcome his resistance towards his feelings--of love--for Q. 😭😭😭

When I first watched this episode, I couldn't figure out why Bashir was the mysterious psychiatrist because he kept vascillating between mocking and deriding Picard's call to duty, and then showing deep concern that had an almost personal pain to it for Picard's closed off heart.

Siddig and Callis do look practically alike.

But for this Qcard lover, knowing that it's definitely not Bashir changes that whole episode for me.

[tigreblvnc]

Hahaha! omg no I’m not hiding anything! I just don’t interact much with people or posts other than sometimes liking, so my blog is left empty:). I liked you and your writing, so I really had to comment and talk with you, you're very intriguing! :)

And I do in-fact write! Only for myself and family, I’m too shy to actually post. I mostly have just been doing poetry lately!

I’m glad we have the same thoughts about knowledge! I love pursing knowledge in almost everything I can, even if it’s just a little bit, I just want to be so knowledgeable that people immediately think of me whenever they have questions about anything! Like an encyclopedia! So far I’m succeeding :)

I didn’t know you knew classical pieces!! I love Swan lake by Tchaïkovski I also love his The nutcracker piece, another favourite of mine would probably be Dies Irae! Do you have any other classical piece that you like or even recommend? I’m trying to find more pieces to listen to! Ah! My apologies I rambled off again, I’m quite excited, I haven’t met/seen anyone with similar interests to me!

Intriguing, why?

I'd love to read you.

I took the time to gather some classical music that I really like. I have classified them in alphabetical order and starting with the name of the artist because they are often more telling than the title of the piece itself.

Classical music recommendations:

Bach Jean-Sébastien - Toccata and Fugue in D minor

Chopin Frédéric - Prelude op. 28 n24 in D minor ❤️

Chostakovitch Dmitri - Jazz Suite, Waltz No. 2 ❤️

Grieg Edvard - Peer Gynt Suite No.1 ❤️

Haendel Georg Friedrich - Sarabande

Kalinnikov Vasily - Symphony No 1.

Lully Jean-Baptiste - Marche pour la cérémonie des Turcs

Mussorgsky Modeste - Night on Bald Mountain

Offenbach Jacques - Can Can Music

Prokofiev Sergei - Peter and the Wolf

Rachmaninoff Sergueï - Piano Concerto #2 in C Minor, Op. 18 ❤️

Ravel Maurice - Ma mère l'Oye ❤️

Ravel Maurice - La Pavane pour une infante défunte

Rossini Gioachino - William Tell Overture: The Storm ❤️

Saint-Saëns Camille - Le Carnaval des animaux : Aquarium

Tchaikovsky Piotr Ilitch - Swan Lake ❤️

Van Beethoven Ludwig - Symphony No 7 A-Dur, op 92

Verdi Guiseppe - Requiem 1 - Dies irae, Libera me ❤️

Vivaldi Antonio - Concerto for Mandolin in C Major RV425

I also really like movie and video game soundtracks! I have a lot of tracks if you're interested. By the way, would you like to share some songs that you like? :)

[orionsolstice]

This is going to be the start of my movie review blog because honestly I fixate over a bunch of different shows and films that u can't keep my emotions bottled. So to start it off I wanted to review a movie about pride month which being gay I too celebrate so why not review the 1987 queer romance Maurice !

Maurice talks about the previously mentioned character of Maurice and most of his life during and after his time at the University of Cambridge where he meets his bestfriend and future lover Clive. The first part of the movie is all about Clive and Maurice and their relationship.

Some of the cutest scenes come from the first half of the movie and the camerawork is absolutely amazing along with great acting. In the second part Clive gets conscious about their relationship after a friend of theirs gets arrested for homosexual activities and decides to break things off with Maurice romantically, he than marries another women and asks Maurice to come to the wedding and spend time at their house. Maurice definitely didn't forget his love for Clive and the scenes showing this are really sad and full of nuance. During one of his stays at Clive's mansion Maurice sleeps with his gatekeeper and soon enough the gatekeeper falls in love. After a misunderstanding with a letter from Alec the gatekeeper they both confront each other in London where they realize the misunderstanding and spend another day together.

The morning Alec is supposed to leave for Argentina Maurice comes to the travel boat to day good bye and give him a gift but then realizes that Alec isn't going away he then goes to meet up with him at the spot of their previous meet up spot in Alec's letter. Before going to see Alec, Maurice tells Clive about his relationship with the gatekeeper and how Clive's fear of being caught drove Maurice away with probably THE most heartbreaking quote

"I was yours since the day we met, if only you would have kept me!"

Then Maurice is reunited with Alec and then they kiss promptly ending the movie

I gotta say this movie is truly such a masterpiece especially considering the time it was made like the acting, camerawork and writing are on par if not better then Call me by your name or Heartstopper. Like this movie truly made me not stop crying and feeling bad for Maurice and Clive but I think one of it's faults is Alec, for me his introduction was way too late into the movie and we really didn't get to know him much so it felt like he was shoehorned in just to give Maurice a better love interest. But all that aside I truly loved this movie and I absolutely recommend watching it for Pride Month!