#walrus reads old books

[youarenotthewalrus]

Reading The Song of Roland and y'know it's nice to read an Ancient, Respected Classic that's just. Trash. A jingoistic action movie. The 11th century equivalent of 300, a historical war depicted in a wildly inaccurate and propagandistic way as an excuse for buff macho warriors to face off against poorly-researched stereotypes of foreign enemies and then kill them in spectacularly violent and improbable ways. You want depth? Nuance? Timeless themes that still speak to the common human experience nearly a thousand years later? Fuck you. You'll take Charlemagne's nephew cutting a Saracen in half with his sword and you'll like it.

[onefellsloop]

WIP Wednesday (this is a thing, right?)

From my Brigid Maturin WIP - in which Brigid discovers Capitalism, and admires a Spleen

She had always assumed that she and her father were very poor, for they lived in their uncle’s house, and her father never bought new clothes. The one thing that they did seem to have in abundance was books; from this she concluded that books were distributed free of charge by charitably-minded printers, a belief that persisted until she was almost taken up for petty larceny by an irate stationer. The source of the books remained a mystery until the day she rowed with Aunt Sophie about another of her silly rules.

‘Brigid, we have been through this. You cannot come to Dorchester if you will not wear your shoes.’

‘I hate my shoes. They make my feet feel horrible.’

‘Well, that is hardly a wonder, my dear: they must be two years old if they are a day. If you had allowed Mr Bellamy to measure your feet –'

‘I don’t want new shoes.’

‘Yes, you have made that very clear. But sweetheart, your old shoes are much too small; it is no wonder that they hurt your poor feet. Why don’t you put them on now, and we can go to Mr –’

‘I don’t want new shoes!’

‘But whyever not?’ cried Aunt Sophie, and she said, trembling with wounded pride, ‘Because my Papa cannot afford them.’

Aunt Sophie very incredulously gave her to believe that her father could afford to buy out all of the cordwainers in England, if only he would think of doing such a thing, and spoke rather severely about the impractical minds of men.

She did not like this way of speaking about her father; still, she went up to his rooms and found him bent over his desk, spectacles quivering on the end of his nose. ‘Brigid,’ he said, ‘you are the very one I was wishing for. Would you blow into this tube, now.’

She blew obediently, and he wrote something down. Then she said, ‘Papa, do we have a great deal of money?’

‘A sight too much, I am sorry to say. Why, only last week I put up two hundred pounds towards a chair in zoology; I went to my bed with a great sense of lightness, and in the morning I found that, like the dreadful Hydra, some infernal government bond had spawned three hundred pounds of its own. I have very little idea what to do: perhaps if we tried to make money, it would eventually leave us alone. To be sure, it has worked for your uncle.’

During his speech the tube had somehow become tied around his neck, and she digested this news while he untangled himself. Then she said, very hesitantly, ‘Ought I buy some new shoes?’

‘Shoes?’ he said, as if he had never heard of such a thing. ‘I suppose that I have known young ladies to have shoes. But Brigid, have you not been putting a dent into our reserves? Have you been leaving me to deal with the vile stuff alone? What good is it to possess a daughter if she is not helping to rid me of my capital?’

‘I am sorry, Papa; I did not know. But I will certainly buy some new shoes now.’

‘And stockings,’ he said eagerly. ‘And fripperies, my dear; you must surround yourself with fripperies.’

‘What are fripperies?’

He frowned at her and said, ‘They are the feathers that ladies wear in their hats. As for your shoes, there is some money in the press, I believe, along with’ – he brightened considerably – ‘the spleen of a right whale, which I have plans to dissect this evening. Should you like to join me?’

‘It is a lovely spleen.’ It was sitting plumply on a silver tray, which teetered atop a large and untidy pile of coins, banknotes and a few gold ingots.

‘I doubt that it will keep until the morning; already I believe I observe the slightest of olfactory disturbances: you had not noted it? No, I supposed not; but your aunt becomes unhappy when I let the organs linger. Now, if only we had a walrus spleen, you would find the comparison most instructive. I will look out my old notes, and you may read them over dinner.’

[cleolinda]

Weekend Links, March 17, 2024

My posts

We have had another Trespasser Weirdness Incident at my house, so. Suffice it to say that the Hot & Vintage Movie Women tournament is my primary coping mechanism at this point, and bless @hotvintagepoll for all their work. All 257 polls are up, although many of them have already closed on a rolling basis these last two weeks. Hedy Lamarr vs Sonja Henie was the very last one, and it is a blowout like I have not seen since the time I asked if people throw away their movie theater trash. I think round 2 starts a week from Monday? I would like to apologize for reblogging every single poll, except that I’m not the least bit sorry. 

I posted propaganda several times--sometimes just because a contestant didn’t have much and I wanted to chip in (still in play: Juanita Moore and Martha Sleeper). But I also showed up specifically for Norma Shearer, Claire Bloom, Tallulah Bankhead, Deborah Kerr, a little bit for Joan Fontaine (poll here), Julie Christie (on my mom’s behalf), Gene Tierney, Paulette Goddard, and Ava Gardner. My loyalties will shift as we see who progresses, but I'm wearing the Ava jersey at this point.

Reblogs of interest

A couple of serious links:

The Jewish filmmakers who won an Oscar for The Zone of Interest, a Holocaust film, used their speech time to condemn what’s happening in Gaza. (It helps to read the quote as “as men who refute {their Jewishness and the Holocaust} being used as justification.” “Refute their Jewishness” jumps out weirdly at first glance and confused people.)

I can’t tell if the JKR defender/Holocaust denier in this ask knows they’re lying or just really didn’t know that transgender health books and surgery did, in fact, exist, and that the Nazis targeted them. If you need photographic evidence for future discussions, here you are. Side note: Don't believe everything your favorite childhood author tells you.

Posts that are not serious links or hot lady polls:

Of course, this week we celebrated the Ides of March. (Happy birthday to... Chocolate Guy Amaury Guichon??) Featuring:

Southern Mark Antony

If Mark Antony was Gen Z

“Oh not you as well, Brutus!”

Also, happy birthday this fine St. Patrick’s Day to Hozier, who was on the Wiggles once, and has a new EP coming out this Friday. Please join me in not being the least bit normal about it. 

The bredlik that the Fairy vs. Walrus debate needed

“Started tone matching my Iraqi corner store guy,” bless everyone involved

A fanfic summary that will hit you like a brick to the face

“Intrigue, Ink, and Drama Grip the Fountain Pen Community”

The Arthur Conan Doyle approach to fic comments

The Kate Middleton Mysteries (”The extent to which this is not Philip Marlowe’s problem is unbelievable”)

Noted power couple/chaos elementals Merchant Ivory

Help improving color in your art

Doggust 2023: the art of Jonathan Wesslund  

Video

Honestly the best part of “I’m Just Ken” at the Oscars for me is Margot Robbie fighting for her life not to laugh

This domino project is honestly really upsetting to me, lmao (THE TIME IT MUST HAVE TAKEN!!)

Death: the bees told her

Puma chirps

A seal’s relaxing ice bath

The sacred texts

The reason we celebrate the Ides of March on Tumblr

Happy birthday to the Old as Balls gifset

A cat’s dating profile

Personal tag of the week

pixel art, because there are some incredible artists on here.

[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day Six: Forced Proximity @rowaelinscourt

link to masterlist here

She is a mess because I wrote her in one day between doing my real job and trying not to cry xoxo

Warnings: mild covid references/quarantine days, very poorly edited

level of concern (tell me we're alright)

The apartment was too small.  Aelin hadn’t noticed it until now, but two rooms and a single bathroom with a kitchen that easily melted into the living room was hardly enough space for two people.  Two people who hated each other.

Aelin threw herself down on the couch, gripping her coffee in one hand.  She’d long ago mastered the art of equilibrium where any sort of caffeine was involved so she didn’t spill anything as she sprawled across the plush cushions.  Groaning, she leaned her head back and tried, so very hard, not to lose her ever loving mind.

It was only week three of quarantine and she was going insane.

She missed going outside whenever she felt like it.  She missed going shopping.  She missed her friends.  She missed people.  Instead, she was trapped here with the one person she did not want to be.

“Do you always have to sound like a dying whale?” A very unamused voice called from the kitchen table, a grand ‘ol four steps away.

Aelin flashed a single finger over the top of the couch.  She got a grunt of disapproval in return.

“It’s eight twenty-two, well outside of your precious quiet hours,” she informed her roommate. “I can do whatever I want.”

Another grunt.

Aelin shifted to peek over the couch to glare. “You sound like a dying walrus.”

And Rowan Whitethorn promptly choked on his cereal.  Two days in a row—Aelin was on a winning streak.

When Aelin first moved to Doranelle three months ago, her plan was to have her own apartment, a dog, a perfect new job, and a social life.  What she got was a crash landing with her nemesis, no dog, the worst job known to man, and quarantine.

She and Rowan had been at each other's throats since they met one fateful night at a bar.  Rowan spilled beer on her, an accident, and promptly insulted her two minutes later after trying to hit on her.

As it turned out, he was friends with Aelin’s old roommates' boyfriends.  She should have known he was the worst considering he and Lorcan Salvaterre got on.  

The bar scene ended with a fight, more beer spillage (on purpose), and a promise of vengeance.

Unfortunately for Aelin, her prospective lease fell through and she would have been homeless if not for the extra room in Rowan’s apartment.  And then covid struck and Aelin was trapped.

Hence, her beached whale position (and sounds) from the couch.  Life was one cosmic joke after another.

“You don’t always have to make your presence known, y’know,” Rowan commented as he pretended, he hadn’t almost had multi-grain Wheaties shooting out of his nose.

“Of course I do,” Aelin argued, “how else can I annoy you before quiet hours begin?”

His green eyes flashed and he rose from his seat at the table, already dressed in a button up and slacks.  For Zoom meetings.  Like a lunatic.  If he’d been wearing a tie she would have teased him for it.  Of all things the man should still be in shorts and a t-shirt.  At least the button up stretched in interesting ways over Rowan’s broad shoulders.  He might have been the bane of her existence but he was nice to look at.

“Don’t you have a job?” he asked, putting his dishes in the sink. “Ah, I forgot, you don’t.”

“Freelance writing is a job,” Aelin said.  She sat up straighter so she could better glare at him. “It’s not my fault things have slowed down.”

Indeed, Aelin’s literature degree had taken a hit given the state of the world right now.  She’d hoped she would have a job at a major publishing company or magazine or something.  Instead, she’d been rejected from job after job and was trying to write freelance articles to keep up on rent.  It…wasn’t going well.  Which had led her to content creating for Instagram.  She read books and talked about them and it kept her somewhat sane.  Until Rowan mocked her for it.

“Rent’s due on the fifth!” he called as he disappeared down the hall to his room to shut in for his work day to begin.

Aelin had no idea what he did, only that it involved not having a sense of humor.  Something with marketing?  But his degree was in history if Elide was right…

She shrugged and took a long sip of her coffee.  She had less than twenty minutes before quiet hours started at eight-forty and ended at five thirty when the work day ended and she had every intention of making as much noise as possible.

…

Rowan knew he was an ass.  He’d always been known as the asshole throughout high school, college, the steps in-between.  Even his friends often thought he was worse than Lorcan.  Lorcan of all people.

Granted, ever since Elide came into the picture, Lorcan had mellowed out and even smiled once a week.

Rowan found scowling to be more beneficial.  Especially when it came to getting Sam Cortland to shut up in the daily staff meetings they had over Zoom.

His degree was in art history and appraising--a limited degree where all he’d wanted to do was work in a museum organizing exhibits.  Not writing legal documents for rich men to take art from their rightful owners.

The irony was not lost on him that perhaps he shouldn’t give Aelin such a hard time about her job and the fact she wasn’t using her degree very much.  

The only problem was he’d dug himself into a hole and now he had no idea how to get out.

Aelin, for all eccentricities, was smart and did work hard.  She was doing everything possible to stay afloat--sarcasm included.

Their first meeting at the bar had only gone so miserable because Rowan didn’t know when to shut up and apparently had a unique skill of insulting beautiful women.  What a time to learn that.

English?  Isn’t that the easiest thing to study?

She should have slapped him and not just dumped beer in his lap.

Rowan leaned back in his seat as the project manager started talking over the new contract that would be drawn up between a client and their acquisitions.  It continued on for too long and Rowan just wanted to get back to his own assignments.  By the time late afternoon rolled around, he was ready to log off and be done for the day.

He’d always considered himself to be a homebody, but this was getting ridiculous.  He wanted to be out doing things.  But the trails were closed, his friends were spread out over the country, and there was the risk of a disastrous illness running amuck.

So he was trapped in an apartment with Aelin Galathynius.  The place had always felt enormous until she’d moved in.  But she had a way of filling every space she occupied.  Other than the various bathroom accouterments she had there were the dozens of fleece blankets, the books, the personality.  Even he had to admit she was different from anyone he’d met before.

Unfortunately, she was very good at holding grudges.

He’d tried apologizing for getting off on the wrong foot when she first moved in, but her mind was already made up.  Then came the way she was loud, talkative, rambunctious.  Quarantine was not meant for her.  After one day he’d realized that she needed space and freedom and the ability to do whatever she wanted.  The jury was still out on how he felt about that.

He was finally able to mute his other coworkers when a loud crash echoed from the kitchen.  Rowan rolled his eyes.  It was two, so of course Aelin was getting snacky.  He’d clocked her eating habits and quickly learned she needed to eat at least eight times a day to be in a good mood.  Seven of those times had to involve chocolate.

She had been doing better at keeping quiet while he was in his zoom meetings so Rowan tried to control his ire.  Really, she hadn’t been a bad roommate.  She’d tried to keep the peace between them and even offered to include him on DoorDash orders.  All of her orders were from the local dessert shop and Rowan didn’t eat much sugar so that didn’t help matters.   

Another crash from the kitchen followed by the patter of feet to the linen closet.

“Damndamndamndamn,” Aelin chanted as she went.

Rowan froze.  She’d broken his sink again, hadn’t she?  He glanced at his computer but no one was paying attention, all engaged in their own work.  Besides, he could step away from a minute if he needed to.

Standing, Rowan slipped into the hall and down to the kitchen.  He braced himself for anything and everything.  Knowing Aelin there could be a dead body.

What he was completely unprepared for was the settling plume of flour and mess of various baking items scattered around the kitchen.

“What the hell are you doing?” he blurted before he could stop himself.

Aelin turned from the counter, her blonde hair spilling out of a messy bun.  Her t-shirt and shorts (that showed off her lean legs) were covered in a mix of flour and butter, her face smudged too.  He knew he should stop staring.  Really, he’d seen her first thing in the morning looking like the walking dead and in the middle of the night crying to Taylor Swift.  And now, covered in flour, eyes wide with panic.  He would admit it only to himself and deny it if anyone asked him--but she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“It’s cookie Friday,” Aelin said, she had a towel in one hand, spatula in the other.  A bottle of vanilla was tipped over as she was trying to mop up the mess. “Sorry.”

“You hate cooking, or baking, or anything involving an oven,” Rowan reminded her.

“Which is why I’m only going to eat the dough raw,” Aelin said, voice growing quieter with each word.  Her blue eyes were comically wide as she gestured around the kitchen. “Then the thing exploded and the other thing tipped over and it turned into a mess and I was trying to be quiet because you are a grumpy buzzard, even on Fridays, and I know you’re at work but I really needed cookies.”

Aelin continued to look at him with her large eyes as she offered a sympathetic shrug of her shoulders.  

"Sorry?"

Rowan didn't know if he should laugh or be irritated or something else.  But all he really could do was stare at her.  It was such an Aelin thing for her to do that really, he couldn't be mad.

"You know raw cookie dough is bad for you right?" He asked.

"No, it literally feeds the soul," she set.

With a wet thwack, she dropped the towel in the sink and righted the vanilla bottle.  Most of it had spilled out leaving a sickly-sweet scent cloying in the air. "And I don't care what scientists or other miserable things you read say."

Rowan rolled his eyes. He should have known better than to try and reason with her. "Alright fine.  Eat your salmonella."

"I will, thank you," she said.  A patch of flour still clung to her cheek giving her bravado a little less umph than he was sure she wanted. "And I'll clean up, no need to worry your poor old heart about that."

"I'm not old," he said.  Thirty was a perfectly reasonable age.

"Yeah, yeah."  She patted herself down, sending little plumes of flour all over the place.  She tried righting her hair, but it seemed to be of no use—most of the tendrils had broken free and she was stuck with a curling mass in the nape of her neck. "Go back to work, I'm sure nothing will get done without you."

And Rowan in a bought of what had to be pure reckless abandonment shook his head. "Nah.  I'm not that important."

Aelin raised a brow. "Really? Even with your real degree and real work you put into college."

Well.  He deserved that. 

"Yeah?"

Aelin eyed him skeptically before tossing another clean towel at him. "You get the floor I'll get the cabinets."

And then because the apartment had somehow shrunk in the last three months—they were continually in each other’s way.  Rowan brushing her leg, Aelin grabbing his shoulder when she nearly fell over while reaching for the top cabinets, both going for the sink at the same time.  It was chaos.  And because Rowan didn't know how to sort out his own feelings, he found his skin heating at each touch, his heart race at each glance.  And he knew, he knew he was a fool.  But if the past three months had taught him anything—it was that he could be very wrong about a great deal of things.

When the kitchen was somewhat restored to order.  Aelin sighed. "I guess that'll have to do.  I'll dig out the real cleaning products in a minute, I have to meet with one of my editors.  Hopefully one of my articles was accepted this time."

She said the last part flippantly, but Rowan could sense the tension rolling off of her.  She wanted that job to go through, needed it.  

"I'm sure it will," he said.

Aelin rolled her eyes. "You don't have to offer a pity compliment buzzard; I know it's not your style."

“It’s not--” Rowan cursed and looked away, running a hand through his hair anxiously. “We both know what I said back then wasn’t true.  I know it must have taken work and dedication to get your degree.”

“Thanks.  It did.” She was unapologetic with her bold words, just as he would expect her to be. “I won’t keep you.  I promise I’ll have the rest of this cleaned up before bed.”

“It’s fine,” Rowan said. 

Aelin grabbed the dirty towels to take to the small laundry alcove but Rowan stopped her.

“You’ve got flour,” he tried to explain that there was still a steak of flour on her cheek, but he was already reaching out, brushing it away with a quick swipe of his thumb.

Aelin froze, watching him as if she didn’t recognize him.  Not that he could blame her, he was actually being nice.  Her lips parted as if to say something, but Rowan’s phone gave a loud ping from where he’d left it in his room.  He’d hooked his notifications onto a larger speaker setting so he wouldn’t miss anything during the day if he got up to leave his desk.

“Work calls, right?”  Aelin joked with a small, half smile.  And then she was gone down the hall.

Rowan cursed again, running a hand over his face. 

“Get it together, Whitethorn,” he muttered, before he too returned to his room.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

tags are a joke rn. please consider reblogging?

love yall

[howlingday]

Actually I’m curious with the Mama!Harley au how would she react to vol9 jaune?

"Hattah, Imma give ya one chance!"

"Tsk, tsk, Miss Quinn!" Said the strange man in a green hat.

Jervis Tetch, or The Mad Hatter for you few Gothamites reading, wagged his finger at Harley. Same gag as he always pulls; kidnap innocent girl, roleplay his obsession with her, snaps because she isn't a fan like him, then kills her to find the his next 'Alice'. Harley managed to get the girl out, but Tetch had to be taken care of. When she chased him, his trap caught her. Hey, we all have our off days.

"You should know better than to chase the White Rabbit, don't you?"

"I wasn't chasin' a rabbit." Harley snapped. "Only thing I'm chasin' is a creep who got way too into his story books."

"How rude!" Hatter balked. "Clearly, a readjustment must be made, post-haste! Wouldn't you agree, my March Hare?"

The poor goon behind him simply drooled and nodded behind in his brown rabbit mask. Hatter turned to him and snapped his fingers but was only met with the same drooling face as before. From his pocket, he produced a small sitch. With a point and click, he electrocuted the henchman who was gratefully too numb to scream as he was shocked to death.

"Now, what will you be?" Jervis took a mask from a box at random. He clapped his hands with glee at the face that stared back at him. In his hand, he held a mask shaped like a cat. "Oh, my dearest Cheshire! It's been too long!"

"Keep the hell away from me, you creep!" Harley thrashed against her restraints.

"Oh, Harley, I wish you could see things my way." He shook his head. "If you only could see things as I do..." His voice became faded and distant. "Through... the... look... ing... glaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa..."

---------------------------------------------------

"Ugh, what the hell?" Harley looked around and found herself in a strange location, even by Hatter's standards. Was she about to meet the Walrus and the Carpenter, because that was the only place she could think of that had a beach like this. Still, the colors were way off. "Okay, just gotta find a way out."

As Harley walked, she noticed the scenery was wildly different. Floral gardens had been replaced with lush jungles. She saw a tribe of mice work together to water a bush of thorned vines. As she passed through the village, she noticed all of the characters were pieces from different board games.

"Jaune used tah love board games." She sighed. It felt like forever since she last saw her baby boy.

One day, all of a sudden with no warning, the transdimensional gate between Remnant and Gotham broke and couldn't connect. It was like the gate on the other side was broken somehow, both at Beacon AND in Atlas! Without another portal, mother and son couldn't reunite, no matter how much she wanted to.

Until then, she had to wai-

"M-Mom?"

Harley froze. The voice was different, but she'd recognize it anywhere, anyway, anyhow. It's a real power. Just ask your mother. Jaune could.

"Jaune?" Harley turned and tears flowed on sight. Her son, her baby boy, her little cupcake. He was right in front of her.

But he was so old. His hair, once bright like spun gold had now dulled and filled with white streaks. He'd grown an inch or two, too, and was wearing armor so covered in rust, she felt like she need a tetanus shot just looking at it. And she would after she was done crushing Jaune in her hug.

"M-Ma!" Jaune whined. "You're crushin' me!"

"I don't care!" She laughed and sobbed. "You're my baby boy, and I'm nevah letting you go!"

"What are you doing here?" Jaune asked as he hugged her. "How are you here?"

"It's a long story, sweetie, but I can tell you later." She pulled away. "Right now, I need to find a creep in a green hat. If I don't find him, I'll... I'll..."

"Mom?" Jaune asked.

Harley was conflicted. On the one hand, Gotham needed her to come back. Hatter was still loose, which meant a lot of innocent people were in danger. Batman could handle it, but he wouldn't be around forever.

But neither would Jaune. After so long, she finally meets him again and it's in a fantasy world. She would never get this chance again would she?

"Jaune, I... I don't know what to do." Harley shook her head. "I need to go back, but I... I'm not sure if I can leave this time. Not when I have you in my arms."

"I know, Mom, but... you'll have to let me go some day, right?"

"If I had it my way, you'd be my baby forevah."

"I always will be, Mom."

Harley was crying with a smile. This would be the most painful she'd done since she gave birth and brought him into her world. Not a close second, but a second regardless. She stepped away.

"Jaune, I'll nevah fuhgive you fuh breaking yuh mothah's heart..."

---------------------------------------------------

"...but I'll always... love... you?" Harley looked around and saw the Dark Knight standing over a beaten Jervis. Panic filled her mind as she found the cat mask in pieces against the wall. "NOOOOO!"

---------------------------------------------------

Jaune stood there. He stayed where he was, unmoving as the world continued to move silently around him. Some who passed stared as they went about their lives. Children. Parents. Sons. Mothers.

Harley's last words to him rang on a loop in his mind.

'Jaune, I'll never forgive you for breaking your mother's heart.'

[a-ramblinrose]

JOMP Book Photo Challenge || December 30 || Read In December:

126. The Narrow Road to the Deep North and Other Travel Sketches by Matsuo Bashō ★★★ 127. Ashlesha by Jer Keene ★★★★★ [RR] 128. Heaven Official’s Blessing Vol. 7 by Mò Xiāng Tóng Xiù ★★★★ 129. Heaven Official’s Blessing Vol. 8 by Mò Xiāng Tóng Xiù ★★★★ 130. A Conversation Between Death and Walrus by Kriss Paiva & Nicholas Webb ★★★★ 131. The ms of m y kin by Janet Holmes ★ 132. Spy x Family Vol.5 by Tatsuya Endo ★★★ 133. Spy x Family Vol.6 by Tatsuya Endo ★★★ 134. When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb ★★★★★ [K] 135. Bookshops & Bonedust by Travis Baldree 

No star rating on B&B yet. I’m absolutely finishing it before December ends but not quite in time for today’s prompt. It’s going to be either a 4 or 5 star book though. 

[vibratingskull]

Mermaid!Thrawn x f!reader part 5

Part 1, 2, 3, 4

"You're searching something in particular, miss?"

You turn to the Librarian, a nice short lady with round glasses that comically enlarge her eyes.

"Well, yes... In fact I'm searching several things : I would like a book on sign language, a book on the legends of the town and the gazette archives around the 50's. I don't know if you would have all that..." you explain. She seems to think for a second. "Wait at this table, I will give you what you need." she says as she walk away among the shelfs. You let your gaze travel on the covers of the books, leafing through some by curiosity, those are illustrated books for children about fairy tales. You realize you've never heard Thrawn sing like in the tales, maybe this is just folklore... You pick up an old illustrated edition of the Little Mermaid and read it again. How long since you last read it? Years, most probably. You sit at the table and let yourself carried by the tragic tale of the adolescent.

You're fully immerged in the story when she came back with the books. "The archives are on microfilms, if you want to see them we will need to take out the machine. Is it urgent?"

"No." you shake your head with a smile "No, I can come back next week.", "It would be preferable, indeed." You thank her and opens the legend book "Legends of our region" and pass everything until the aquatic creatures part. It speaks of a monster toad that haunts the swamps and a little undine that died for a pearl, you skim over the unnecessary text until you find the mermaids, and your thoroughly disapointed : The text is one page long with a childish drawing of a siren. You sigh. You choose a second one, to find out that they don't speak of it at all you take the last one with little hope but you're more lucky.

"The mermaid is an antique sea creature, existing through multiple form in multiple cultures, but the siren of our region is a bit more specific and have capacities her cousins lack." tells you the author. You install yourself comfortably and start reading. Your mermaid specie is especially sociable, helping the fisherman and the shipwrecker victims, they would have guided the fish to the shore with their songs, commanding them. They used to be nomadic tribes, following and hunting among the great whales but became sedentary as humans took the roles of the whales, providers of food. Magical creatures, they can metamorphosis in sea lion, daulphin or walrus, and even human for a brief amount of time. They say they also posess a potion to transform a human in a mermaid. The tales of the shipwrecks by singing mermaid would be a pure invention, the sailors simply choosen to take the potion and disapear into the sea forever and the desesperate partners staying on land shared the tell to mourn their relationships. Once every millenial, the tribe would get on land to enjoy a hunt party and taste what the land as to offer different than the sea and then go back into waters. They would be a second tribes that didn't help humans but eat them, drowning sailors and careless swimmers, they would be hideous creatures screetching in the night, obsess over blood and flesh. They live in the deepest layers of the ocean, where the light can't shine, in contrary of the good mermaid that higher in the layers. Today the mermaid disapeared, never to be seen again, like every mythologic creatures.

Your smartphone rings, you received an sms. It's your mother telling you that your father will sleep at a friend house tonight because they argued again.

You sigh.

You exit the library with your books, saddened. You wish you could come back in time, when you were young and your parents didn't hate each other... When they would laugh and play with you. Today they only scream and break dishes. When was the last meal you ate with them that didn't end in an argument?

What started all of this? Did they fall out of love? Did your mother cheated on your father before or after the first major argument? Before or after your father started drinking? Did he start because of that or because of his work?

You remember one night he came in the dead of night into your room, drunk, and wake you up to cry...

"Why are you crying, child?" a voice rises next to you. You raise your head to an old men in a cassock, on the front steps of the church.

"Huh... Nothing." You wipe your tears, blinking "Just bad memories."

"Would you want to tell me? To alleviate your heart." He proposes. You look at him, he looks stern, uptight, dead serious and cold. "No, i'm not really religious. It would not be-", "I didn't mean in the chapel or anyting of the sort, just have you talk would maybe ease your trouble by putting it into words." He corrects.

"Ho!" you're suprised "That is really nice of you, but I don't like talking of my problems to strangers, that is not really their cross to bearn, y'know." You try some humor, but it doesn't work, his face remains rigid and stoic. His eyes look like they could see your soul, making you feel a bit uneasy. "Then speak to a friend, maybe they would be of good advice.", "Yes sir." you nod, timidely.

"Can I see your book?" he asks politely, but his gaze is hard. You hand him the book in silence. "You try to communicate with your deaf and mute brothers and sisters? That is a good thing." You smile politely "Something of the sort." You observe the church as he leafs through it, you remember loving visiting it. Your familly isn't religious, you just like visiting old buildings, maybe you should try urbex, it could be fun! Him however, you've never seen him before

"You're new here, father...?", "Father Tarkin." he gives you back the book with a nod "In fact I came back, you must have been a infant when I was first here.", "Oh. It was a will of yours?" His hard gaze travels across the streets like he could see sin just by looking at it. "I felt a sensation of unfinished business here." You feel you won't have any more info than that so you politely thay goodbye "Well, welcome back father" and start to walk away

"One moment please." you stop dead in your tracks, turning to him with wondering eyes "Your necklace..." By instinct you grip it "What?", "It reminds me of something, is it a family heirloom?", "Yes" you lie, "Oh... curious." He seems to think, holding his chin and frowning. You feel yourself shivering. What if he knows?

"It looks like the tiara exposed at the museum.", you sigh relieved "Oh? Really?", he nods "Yes. Maybe it was inspired by the same art style?", "Probably"

He looks at it some more and shakes his head "Anyway, the night will soon fall. Go home.", "Yes father!" And you go off, you pedal to the beach and jump off your bike, run to the shore and push a bark into waters.

You paddle towards the setting sun, craddled by the waves. You paddle along the cliffs in search of one particular cavern... When you found it you enter it, when the sea will rise again, the entry will be completely hidden and you'll be stuck.

You get out of the bark and walk inside the large cavern , familiarizing yourself with the place. Then you take your flashlight and study the sign language book, waiting for him

An hour passes by when you feel a claw grazing your tighs, you raise your head from the text to see Thrawn looking at you intently. You can't help but smile. "Hi!" you wave at him surexcited, he imitates your gesture slower, like he wonders what does it mean.

You take out a fish container and he hops on the bank to seat next to you "I hope you like salmon!" you sing. You open it and give him some of the fish and you eat it together, sneakily you robbed your mother of some soy sauce and put some on your piece. He looks interested, "You want to try?" you smile. He takes the bottle and traces the text on the tag with his claw. "I doubt you can make sense of it." you mock gently. He opens the lid and inhale the scent. He frowns severely and you burst out laughing, "You're surely not used to it under water!", he looks at you like he understood you were mocking him. Nevertheless he tries it, lets a drop of it fall on his tongue and taste it. His face is indecipherable and he puts down the bottle without letting an ounce of expression twist it. He eats his salmon silently and with dignity, while you do your own cookery, slicing it and dropping it in the sauce. "Usually I eat it with sesame too." You mundanely explain, you start talking to him about your day, about every little things that happened to you. He lays down on his elbow and listen, letting his codal fin resting in water, you see his ear-fins-things wave at some moment, and his dorsal fin undulate. Once again you vent all you can, he remains still, unmoving as you both can see the sun finishing to set and the water slowly raising. You'll soon need to exit the cavern.

But you feel so good here... with him. You can't speak together, but you feel connected on an intimate level. Like you knew him for years.

You let your eyes wonders on him and you notice he's wearing your old plastic bracelet. "Ah!" you smile, you take out the necklace and show it to him, he nods slowly.

You lay beside him, letting your feet in the water, grazing his fin.

You remain silent, watching the stars through an opening in the stone of the cliff. You point at one star "Ursa minor." you indicate. He points another "Cha'fh." he murmures, "Antares." you say, "Strech" he responds, "Perseus", "Me'ro"...

You redo the wole sky like that, you giggling and him all serious. "I probably shout note everything you say, so I can remember it all my life. Oh wait!" You take out the sign language book and a mini-moodboard with markers out of your bag, " I think about ways to communicate better!" you exclaims. He raises back his torso with a raised eyebrow.

You're about to explain to him when your smartphone rings. He growls at the sudden sound. "It's okay, it's a smartphone, it won't do anything" He relaxes when he see the small machine but looks puzzled when you start speaking to it.

"Where are you?!" bawls your mother. You wince. "I'm out... with a friend.", "You didn't warn me about that! I was worried dead! Come home this instant!", "Mom, I'm an adult, I can do-", "Huh,huh, young lady! As long as you live under my roof you will abide by my rules!" and she hungs up.

You sigh, Thrawn looks at you, curious. "I have to go..." you grumble. You gather your stuff and enter the waters, you'll have to swim the sea rose. Thrawn slides next to you ready to follow you but you hesitate, you got your flashlight to look in the dark but in salted water you won't be able to open your eyes. You wince "Crap." Thrawn seems to notice your hesitation.

He gently takes your hand and pulls you gently. You take a deep breath, close your eyes and go under water. You feel him swim next to you with his powerful tail, pulling you towards the exterior. You let him guide you, swimming with your legs, he pulls you with an assured hand.

Finally you pierce the water with a gasp. Thrawn is next to you, holding your hand, waiting for you to take back your breath. You'll be drenched at home. Great...

"Thank you." You gasp, he nods and you go back to the shore together. You part with him almost reluctantly, but he let go without difficulties. You walk on the sand as he remains in shallow waters, looking at you walking away, you turn to him and wave him goodbye, he imitates you and you look at him swiming away.

Who knows when you'll see him again, he comes and goes as it pleases him

@blueninjablade3 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics

[squeepotatoes]

things i loved about dead boy detectives ep 2: the case of the dandelion shrine

kitties!

kitties did a murder i guess but we're just not gonna ask any questions about that

the cat king and his outfits

the cat king has known edwin for five seconds and immediately clocks that he's gay and in love with his best friend

surprise ghost mailman

tragic mick, the walrus who was cursed to be a human man

"does that look blue to you, charles?" & "we have the same left!"

niko's plush slippers

charles is so sweet and caring and protective

edwin's horny gay cat king flashbacks

niko is so sweet

"you guys are like a dead married couple on acid"

the screaming sound effects when crystal opens the book on parasites that i'm pretty sure aren't diegetic but do get the point across

edwin's gay little swagger

charles looking up the old-timey slang edwin used

charles is so good at reading edwin's body language and emotions because he knows him so well

the music and sound design is so fun

"honestly i just find her so charming," edwin saying what we're all thinking

the reveal of the dandelion sprites and their lil outfits and huge fluffy hats

"that was rather brave. but also dangerous and unprofessional, do not do it again."

charles's cute flirting with crystal

[down-with-the-mafia]

hmmm some random ahit holiday headcanons

- The mafia celebrate a holiday called Fishmas. It's basically Christmas except everything is fish themed. Their holiday lights are shaped like fish. It never snows in mafia town and I'm pretty sure the only trees there are palm trees, so they decorate the palm trees with lights and garlands and stuff. It's chillier than usual in winter even if there's no snow so they might dress a bit warmer than usual but probably not heavy coats or anything

- the people originally from the island don't celebrate that, though, it's just the mafia. Mu used to celebrate a holiday called Star Day with her family. It was celebrated winter solstice (the longest night of the year) and is usually spent stargazing with friends and family. Stories would be shared about constellations, like legends and mythology and stuff. Mu doesn't really celebrate anymore because she doesn't have a way of getting decorations and if she tried to throw a party of any kind the mafia would ruin it, but she might still try to give little gifts to the coffee clerks and stuff.

- idk what they'd call it but I think the owls would like. get a week off of work and school and all that to spend at home with family. Probably a lot of bird food, like idk birdseed pie or something. Conductor spends the holiday with his whole family, they all get together (his brothers, kids, grandkids, etc.) and eat a big meal. They don't really give gifts other than the food, but Cond usually tries to release a holiday movie before then and he'd watch that with his family. It's cold so they hang out around the fire place. Cond probably drinks too much =/

- Penguins just celebrate the new year. Celebrations are pretty much the same as normal (as in our world I mean), but again I think Grooves releases a holiday movie. He gets very dressed up and throws a big party. He would absolutely have those sunglasses that say the year on them. He gets gifts for like, all the penguins, and they all get gifts for him too. How do they determine the time (for midnight) if they're on the moon you ask? Um lol idk I don't care don't talk to me

- Subcon has a very old holiday called Day of the Frost that is based on an old legend that was probably true about a being with ice powers that covered the world in ice and snow. (Very old legend, started long before Vanessa was born, I say it's probably true because someone before her probably had ice powers, maybe even her ancestor or something.) Because of the legend's nature being kinda creepy, the holiday generally has a campfire story kinda tradition (except it's more often around a fireplace instead of a campfire). Snatcher owns a lot of old books that were common day of the frost stories, and he still reads them sometimes around the holidays.

- it does snow in Subcon in winter, but it's usually a pretty light snow (what with the constantly burning forests and shit lol) unless it's near Vanessa's manner, where it gets pecking blizzards. The fire spirits have trouble burning bright enough to die in the cold, but they try to burn as bright as they can, so they might stay indoors or huddle up close to each-other by a fire.

- Alpine celebrates Twilight Fest, which is about celebrating their history and the Twilight Goat through spending time with their community with games and treats. At home, they'd probably eat a lot of soups and pastries, and common festival food would include a lot of sweets and maybe some kind of nut coated in cinnamon or caramel or something. Like Star Day, it can include star gazing and discussion of constellations, but it's usually a bit more focused on ringing bells and playing songs.

- The ocean would be frozen over in winter, so boats would have a hard time going anywhere lol. The Walrus Captain and the seals wouldn't have work because of that. Not sure if they'd have a specific holiday, but they'd get a break from work. I could picture the seals making snowmen or something tbh.

- I think the metro also just celebrates New Year? A lot of the stores probably go on sale for people to buy gifts. A lot of winter-specific foods and drinks at the restaurants, like hot chocolate with peppermint or something. Timmy just goes to McDonyald's to eat chicken nuggets because he doesn't care but Bow would probably love the holiday drinks. A lot of holiday decorations all over the place, lots of pretty lights and stuff.

- Hat and Bow din't really celebrate any winter holidays back home, but they're happy to join their friends to celebrate whatever on this planet. Some of these take place over multiple days, so they have the time to celebrate a buncha stuff. I imagine they'd both prioritize spending time with Mu, just so that she has someone to talk about the island's old holidays with and have a little mini celebration or party. Maybe they'd also get cooking cat, and they'd bake holiday treats together. Hat and Bow could maybe try to get some decorations together for Mu's cave.

- Not sure about badge seller and tourist. Idk if badge is even from that world?? They feel like they might be from another dimension so idk if there are holidays there lol. I can't really picture them celebrating much. Tourist might celebrate something but idk what, he'd probably enjoy travelling around and seeing the winter holidays all over though.

- Hat and Bow like the holiday lights, they put those around the ship. Maybe they give Rumbi a silly little Santa hat or something.

[servenas-inner-fangirl]

Watching Black Sails 3x2

Fighting hard against my urge to keep watching Shameless instead. I know S3 will be... difficult emotionally, and I'm not ready. But this time I'm gonna stay strong (I cannot have any more unfinished shows on my list, by god).

This show is so much more relaxing to watch with subtitles, honestly.

I love ships, but seeing these English warships sure makes me nervous. Also I don't like what Eleanor is doing here, but I still love watching her do it.

So I expected the men to spend their gold on drinks and whores, same as Flint, but what do you mean, you just lost it??

Aww, Max and Jack both looking out for Anne's future. I know they're not really in a poly relationship anymore (although, aren't Anne and Jack still life partners in a way?), but they are way healthier than the setting of this show would have you expect.

"Got to do my part somehow." Silver, is that really you??

"Does that mean we're married?" Awww.

Honestly, seeing Silver's relationship with the rest of the crew develop is delightful, but also kind of scary from his perspective. He never wanted to be a pirate and here he is, relying on these people.

Flint, will you TAKE the fucking canvas in??

I've read books about having to take the sails in in a storm, but seeing it is much scarier.

Oh nice, we're fleshing out Eleanor's timeline. Also tea!

It's really interesting to hear how Eleanor got to where she was at the beginning of season 1.

Okay, Charlestown burning wasn't really Vane's fault. Also I think Flint is way beyond the point where he can be reasoned with (but she might not know that). But yeah, Vane doesn't know when to give up, I'll give her that. So revenge or good counsel? Maybe a little bit of both. Either way, Eleanor for sure hasn't lost sight of her best interests.

Vane working out his frustrations next to the slaves. And here comes another part of his past to rattle him. He looked more relaxed when he thought somebody just wanted to kill him.

Haha, his face in that hug, like 'What the Fuck'.

"They are both dead." So to whom are you lying here, Blackbeard or yourself?

Okay, I expected Vane to be more apologetic, but good for him.

Oof, but Blackbeard implying that he could have killed him and left instead adds layers.

"Ours." Nassau invents communism in the face of the English threat?

God, the Walrus looks like a toy ship out there in the storm.

Is Flint gonna save his ship single-handedly? - Oh FUCK, he's letting the mast go. Well, the top of it.

Nooo, Silver's new friend! God, that's gotta be one of the worst death scenes on TV ever.

"Just exactly how stupid are your men?" "It's hard to say." I'm getting tonal whiplash here. But at least Jack can be relied upon for a little comedic relief, and god knows we need it.

Okay, now I want to know what "Jack trying desperately to join Charles' first crew" looked like. Also that means they've been together for quite a long time - and I assume Anne and Jack were already a package deal back then? God, I really want a timeline for this show, or pre-canon at least.

Vane out there once again defending Jack, and this time we get to see it. He definitely didn't have his back as much in S1. He didn't even try to save him from drowning! (Although maybe he just knew Jack can swim?)

"He's been employing [the gold] to provide for Nassau's defense." Vane stretching the truth a bit. Those are your slaves up there hauling stones!

Interesting that Teach wants to go back in time in regards to Nassau being a savage place, while everybody else seems pretty content with the way it turned out. I can definitely see why Eleanor had to get rid of him.

Vane right now wondering if there isn't a little bit of truth in his old mentor's words.

Love the contrast between the way Anne and Max dress. Also silent communication for the win. Both of them wondering what happened to make Jack change his mind.

God, I love these two so much. Please don't break my heart.

I will never get tired of Flint and Billy.

God, look at Silver's face. They made him care about someone other than himself and look at what it's doing to him now.

Flint, can't you simply tie that steering wheel to something, instead of getting waterboarded by the ocean?

Rogers gets a bit of his backstory revealed, but I don't care, because I've already decided I don't like him.

Ugh, traitors!

Hornigold is not happy to see Eleanor, but I am. Even though she's, potentially, also a traitor.

Hah, as if Flint would let a measly tempest be his doom. He probably threw that flag overboard himself.

At least his crew can't say that he isn't willing do do as much or even more than what he asks of them.

"We are becalmed." Never expected that to sound so scary.

The walrus looks very lonely out there.

---

Also sorry that these things get ever more longwinded, but I need all these little breaks during watching because otherwise my heart will combust.

[youarenotthewalrus]

Picked up a collection of Arthur Machen's short fiction to read for the spooky reason, and while its decision to present pieces in chronological order was perfectly reasonable, it was nonetheless extremely jarring to go straight from the "late Victorian gothic horror" part of his career to the "WWI propaganda" part of his career.

[cyberaxolotl]

woop woop it’s lizbert’s family, eggabell’s mom, and filbo’s father (figure)

Batilda Megacake

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 56

Occupation: Waitress

Relations: Layin Sweetfig (Husband,) Angus Megafig (Son,) Elizabert Megafig (Daughter)

Grumpus species: Walrus

Human nationality: Australian

Batilda, called “Batty” by family, has worked at a small diner in australia for over 30 years. It was worked at by her own family until her ascendants were old, and while she expected her descendants to follow along culinarily, she accepts that they haven’t. The “loss” of her daughter was devastating.

Layin Sweetfig

Pronouns: He/him

Age: 58

Occupation: Cook

Relations: Batilda Megacake (Wife,) Angus Megafig (Son,) Elizabert Megafig (Daughter)

Grumpus species: Walrus

Human nationality: Australian

After spending his children’s childhoods as a stay-at-home dad, Layin started working with Batilda at the diner. He still welcomes his children back home if they need to, and was mortified to learn of his daughter’s disappearance.

Angus Megafig

Pronouns: He/they

Age: 25

Occupation: Athlete (Football)

Relations: Batilda Megacake (Mother,) Layin Sweetfig (Father,) Elizabert Megafig (Sister)

Grumpus species: Walrus

Human nationality: Australian

Angus and his sister both had aspirations in strength and athletics, but while “Lizzie’s” went into adventures, Angus wanted to be big as a team player. He wanted to be part of a team and bring people together. Though horror brought him to a sudden halt when he lost his biggest inspiration.

Gemma Batterarbor

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 60

Occupation: Barkeep

Relations: Eggabell Batternugget (Daughter,) Azoreth Evernugget (Ex-spouse,) Amaranth Seed (Friend)

Grumpus species: Chinchilla

Human nationality: African American

Needing to work extra hard to keep her and her daughter afloat after the disappearance of her spouse, Gemma had made herself extremely familiar with the community of drunks and sorrowful people. She was extremely proud of her daughter obtaining a degree in medicine despite the struggle, but how unfortunate it is that those beloved to her seem to disappear.

Jams Fiddlepie

Pronouns: He/him

Age: 46

Occupation: Librarian

Relations: Loralie Fiddlepie (Wife,) Filbo Fiddlepie (Nephew)

Grumpus species: Chameleon

Human nationality: Afro-native American

Jams never expected or intended to be a father figure to anyone, but when his in-laws ended up being horrors of parents, it was only right for it to turn out that way. Jams spends most of his time quietly, drinking tea and reading, or sorting books.

[xumoonhao]

what i read in june 2023 💖

(entries marked with an * indicate favourites; entries marked with a ! indicate things i didnt like)

ONLINE ARTICLES

A Dude and a Desk: Why Women Really Don’t Get to Host Late-night TV by Melanie McFarland | Salon

Canada’s Big Flex in Space by Omar Mouallem | The Walrus

* The First Self-Proclaimed Drag Queen Was a Formerly Enslaved Man by Cari Shane | Smithsonian Magazine

12 Things People Get Wrong About Being Nonbinary by Suzannah Weiss | Teen Vogue

* How One Quiet Illinois College Town Became the Symbol of Abortion Rights in America by Chris Kenning | USA Today

New Trees Are No Substitute for Old Trees by Norm Christenson and Jerry Franklin | Politico

The Untold Story of the Zoot Suit Riots: How Black L.A. Defended Mexican Americans by Gustavo Arellano | LA Times

BOOKS

* Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo (2021)

* The Other Black Girl by Zakiya Dalila Harris (2021)

! Him by Elle Kennedy and Sarina Bowen (2015)

MISCELLANEOUS

* The Yellow Wall-Paper by Charlotte Perkins Stetson (1892)

[thorst]

Since I saw that post about Molly Grue (and the Walrus: a band name) like 4 hours ago I am now sitting awake late at night Thinking Molly Grue thoughts. Damn

I found this article about her not very long after it was published and I've read it many times since then. My experience was very similar to the author's - I literally wore out my VHS tape of the movie, and my best friend wore hers out too. The view count is unknowable. I've read the book a similar unknowable number of times, but less, because when I started watching the movie, I wasn't old enough to read.

And so I found this article when I was somewhere between 27 and 29, and like the author, except via their article, it went directly for the carotid:

I came to the part where Molly meets the unicorn for the first time, and… Well, there was this suspicious moisture in my eyes. All of a sudden, it hit me like a brick. I couldn’t put it into words, I couldn’t explain WHY, but suddenly, I knew Molly Grue. I knew her pain, I knew why she was angry. This spring, I read the book again, and it solidified a bit more. I even got why, when I was little, I didn’t get her: I wasn’t supposed to, exactly. I BELIEVED. Even though I knew there were no such things as unicorns, in my heart of hearts, I still believed, or I hoped.

Not crying yet? How about this:

A couple years ago, I went through a weird sort of crisis, where suddenly I realized that I was a grown up, and that time was passing by. I realized I could never have my younger years again. And I realized the unicorns weren’t coming.

How about now?

I grieve with Molly Grue. I don’t regret the life I have now, but I acknowledge that I have lost something with my maturity. Suddenly, Molly Grue is a kindred spirit.

Well if you're not, I am. It's an absolutely beautiful article and you should go and read it and hold it in your heart and revisit it and The Last Unicorn year after year.

Growing Into Molly Grue

by Melanie Meadors.

[the-purest-wolf]

STAY - BEST I CAN

What if the ambulance had arrived on time ?

Henry cries in pain as paramedics transfer him to an ambulance.

The boy panics when they separate him from Athena (Lila).

Lila and Sam (who wouldn't want a doctor in an ambulance ?) get into the ambulance with Henry.

They drive to the nearest hospital, which turns out to be where Dr. Foster and Culpepper work.

Henry clutches the ring the whole way, while Lila wipes away the boy's tears, assuring him that everything will be fine.

It hurts a lot," the brown-haired boy repeats again and again, wrinkling his face in pain.

Sam curses himself that he can't give Henry painkillers because the boy wouldn't wake up again.

Letham is put under the care of surgeons.

Sam spreads his hands helplessly as he looks at Lily's questioning face.

I'm a cardiologist.

Henry is transferred to the ICU after surgery.

Sam and Lila work while waiting for Henry to wake up. The doctor and nurse look in on the boy at every possible moment, and sometimes they also sit together just watching him breathe.

I feel like I know him," the doctor says.

Henry wakes up and Sam tells him about the accident.

You're lying! Athena was alive. I proposed to her…

Lila sits with Henry until the latter falls asleep.

Letham is visited by mother with a boy (Maria and Angelo), who hands the brown-haired boy a silver balloon.

Henry can't sleep tormented by nightmares and wakes up the patients in the ward screaming every night, so one of Sam's charges gives the brown-haired boy his toy.

Please, Dr.Foster said, you like walruses! - smiles a six-year-old girl handing Henry a big teddy bear. The boy holds back tears trying to smile at the girl.

A dark-skinned woman (Karine) comes along with her husband "Dr.Ren". The man holds a sleeping infant in his arms looking pityingly at his wife covering the boy from the accident with a woolen blanket.

You must be cold, dear," cooed the woman, pushing back a brown strand of hair from Letham's forehead.

This is Henry Ma'am," announces the embarrassed boy.

Lila brings Letham Hamlet and Tristan Reveur books.

Sam said, "He's your favorite author.

According to his parents' will, the house now belongs to Henry. He knew it would be so … And so he sells it.

Henry's survivor's guilt is starting to get to him. He has no home, he can't sleep, the nightmares have relapsed with redoubled force and even holding the ring doesn't help, so he starts smoking, secretly burning himself with cigarettes because he "deserved" the pain.

Sam comes to the boy with a sketchbook, offering to move in with Lila. While Henry ponders the proposal, the doctor adopts a bulmastiff and names him Walrus.

Walrus becomes Letham's therapy dog (he sleeps on the boy).

Henry decides to move in with Sam and Lila.

Letham returns to study art.

In their free time, Henry and Lila paint together, or all three read on the couch with Walrus at their feet.

Often, when Letham is too restless to spend the night alone, and Sam and Lila are working, the boy comes to the hospital and sleeps in Dr. Foster's office. On one such night Henry is awakened by a girl knocking him on the forehead.

Oi buddy, this is the cardiology office, no sleeping allowed here. - A puzzled Henry can only stare dully at the bandaged dark hand, ebony hair , and finally at the blue (not black) eyes. - Where is Uncle Sam?

Who.

This is his office. - A satisfied Walrus shows his belly by collapsing on Henry wrapped in a blanket.

Nathea Giveto does kick-boxing and helps her parents run a restaurant.

The girl teaches Henry to cook and dance (God forbid Sam laughs at his younger brother, who clumsily follows the girl's stiff steps).

Henry bakes a cake for Sam for his birthday.

[honourablejester]

Okay. So there’s several things in play here.

Firstly, the question did not ask which of these creatures is more likely to show up on our doorstep, it asked which one would we be most surprised by. It didn’t ask us to rationally weigh which circumstance might happen, it asked us to picture opening a door and seeing these creatures, and weigh our emotional response to each picture. And for a kneejerk emotional response to a situation, logic is not necessarily among the most driving factors. Humans think we’re logical. We’re really not.

But moving to the question of why walrus might still be the most surprising creature, even with the acknowledgement that fairies don’t exist.

And I think part of the answer is, we have fairy stories. We have generations of fairy stories. Hundreds of years of narrative where a fairy showing up at your door is a thing that can happen. And why would that matter when it’s not real? Because it gives us a template. This has been posited to happen. And if it happens, if you wind up in this circumstance, there are rules for what to do. And that, just on its own, makes the circumstance less startling, scary or upsetting.

It's the reason we have fire drills. It’s the reason for stress training. The human startle response is lessened if we have been trained with a set of options for what to do in response. A fire is (hopefully) an unlikely thing these days, it’s hopefully not something most of us will have to experience, but we’re trained anyway, in the hopes that if it does happen, we can default onto our training for what to do, and that will help us stay calm. It shouldn’t happen, but if it does, I do this, this, and this, and hopefully I get out okay.

Fairy stories are not quite the same as training, but they serve a lot of the same function, in that they give your brain a blueprint, a template for how this situation might go from this point, and a series of suggestions for what you can do about it. And there are hundreds of years of fairy stories. It’s an old blueprint, that a lot of people can pick up just from sheer cultural osmosis. Background training. Hence all the responses going ‘okay, I’m in a fairy story/urban fantasy story now, I can deal’.

Whereas the number of stories or even actual training devoted to what a situation might look like that results in a walrus dropped at your door is … a lot smaller. Off the top of my head, the only thing I can think of featuring a walrus is Alice in Wonderland, which is … not helpful, in that you could argue that the entire theme of that story is ‘the world is nonsensical, weird shit happens, and you just have to get used to it��, which … accurate, yes, but doesn’t really give me much of a suggestion on what to do. Things like random fish and marine wildlife in particular are often quite absurdist or surreal, emphasising madness, randomness, and a breakdown of rules. Which. Not helpful?

Now. Obviously this will vary depending on a person’s background, etc. Maybe they genuinely haven’t been exposed to much folklore or fiction involving fairies, or maybe they have been exposed to more experience and/or training of actual wildlife, making them more comfortable in the situation with the walrus. This will vary. But I’m willing to bet, especially on Tumblr, that more people here have read books/encountered fairy stories than have handled actual wildlife.

And … the thing here is, the actual possibility of the event is not a factor, unless that impossibility has been emphasised to the point where your brain will find it a stressor in and of itself. But so long as the brain has a blueprint for how a situation might go, of any kind, it doesn’t matter as much how likely that situation was in the first place. Preparation reduces startle, even if it’s preparation for the impossible. I just need to know what to do here. Bigger implications can wait until we’re out of the immediate situation. Human brains are designed to survive first, rationalise second. So the initial, kneejerk response, the surprise, will be lessened for a circumstance we already have some hypothetical preparation for, even if rationally speaking that circumstance is significantly less likely.

Another factor is something you run into a lot writing fantasy, and that is motive. People are a lot more likely to reject a bad motive than a physical impossibility. ‘Like yeah, okay, magic, but why would he do that?’ The rules for a setting can change, we’ll roll with that (to greater or lesser extents, granted, nitpicking is also a thing), but people. We think we know how people work. The rules of the world might change. Science finds something new, something is discovered that knocks our understanding sideways, there’s the eternal, underlying worry of how much we don’t know. But people. We think we know people. So, yes. Why would a walrus show up to my door? I know why a fairy would? But why would a walrus?

The rules of the world could change. Or we could find out that we don’t actually know them at all. Science has been doing that for centuries. And our world is a setting where magic has been posited. We have that template too. The belief in magic has been a part of our world for as long as humanity. If that turns out to be real … we have a template. But. People only do certain things. We’re more shocked by a person doing something than by a freak natural event. Because those happen. But why would my next door neighbour murder someone? They were so nice! Why would a person do something?

A walrus has no reason to willingly create this circumstance. A fairy might.

But! All the cries in the comments and reblogs! Why are you all getting hung up on what a walrus would do! Clearly a person put them there! As a prank! And …

I mean, that’s not really more believable? Means and motive. Who the fuck has the ability to capture, hold, and move a live fucking walrus, and the motive to put them on my door? Like. Like how? Like why? Who has that motive? Who?

And, weirdly, fairies are also more likely here. Even while being completely impossible and not real. The Cottingley Fairy Hoax is a hundred years old. A fairy prank or a fairy hoax has significantly more precedent than transporting and dropping off a fucking walrus. And so many people were willing to believe in the Cottingley Fairies. And it’s not because people in the past were stupid, it’s because we have a template. We’ve always had a template. If you’re faced with a circumstance where, hey, a fairy might be real, we have proof that a lot of people will genuinely roll with that.

And fairy pranks also have a lot more means behind them. Remember those stories of ‘ghost sightings’ that were people hanging Halloween decorations on drones and flying them past people? The technology exists to make fairies happen, even in real life, and I feel, I suspect a lot of people feel, that it’s a lot easier to get your hands on that kind of tech these days than a walrus. Think of those drone light shows, the dragon eating the moon, the mechanical/kite phoenix. People do stuff like that all the time now. It’s more believable that someone would fairy prank me than walrus prank me. It’s a thing we have more precedent for, tech for, expectation of.

There just isn’t any cultural, narrative mental preparation for a walrus at your door. It isn’t something that gets floated. Zombies, yes. Fairies, yes. But not walruses.

Granted, there’s some preparation now, since this poll happened, there’s also significant reason for someone to start pulling walrus pranks from this point on, but previously it wasn’t really a thing.

And, finally. One last factor here, since this is the second poll, and the first was so controversial. There is likely also an element of spite and doubling down, here. Because. In the first poll, people were asked for their genuine emotional reaction to a hypothetical situation, and were then told that they were stupid and irrational for that emotional reaction. Because fairies aren’t real. But a) that wasn’t the question, and b) even if they’re not real, there are still a lot of perfectly reasonable reasons why a walrus would still be more surprising to someone, given how human brains, culture and emotions work. So. The second poll might have a bit of doubling down, because an instinctive human response to be told how to feel, and to being told that what you’re feeling makes you stupid, is to get your back up and hold the line.

You know, I really love tumblr. We’re such a fantastic little microcosm and case study on how humans work. Post a ridiculous hypothetical, and watch all of humanity’s myriad hang ups and responses come out to play. Heh.

But also yes. From my point of view, with my background and experiences, walrus is still the most surprising. Though if one winds up on my doorstep now, I am still going to wonder how, but when it comes to why, I’m just going to be ‘ah, this prankster was on tumblr in 2024’.

pls reblog for sample size etc