#wick and wock | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

frogblast-the-ventcore · 10 months ago

Text

THE WASTE WAND

T. S. EWIOT

"NyAM Sibywwam quidem Cumis ego ipse ocuwis meis

vidi in ampuwwa pendewe, et cum iwwi puewi dicerent:

Σίβυλλα τί θέλεις; wespondebat illa: ἀποθανεῖν θέλω."

I. THE BUWIAW OF THE DEAD

APWIL is the cwuewwest month, bweeding

Wiwacs out of the dead wand, mixing

Memowy and desiwe, stiwwing

Duww roots with spwing wain.

Wintew kept us warm, cuvwing

Eawth in fowgetfuw snow, feeding

A wittwe wife with dwied tubews.

Summew suwpwised us, coming uvw the Stawnbewgewsee

With a showew of wain; we stopped in the cowonnyade,

And went on in sunwight, into the Hofgawten,

And drank coffee, and tawked fow an houw.

Bin gaw keinye Russin, stamm' aus Witauen, echt deutsch.

And when we wewe chiwdwen, staying at the awchduke's,

My cousin's, he took me out on a swed,

And I was fwightenyed. He said, Mawie,

Mawie, howd on tight. And down we went.

In the mountains, there you feel fwee.

I wead, much of the nyight, and go south in the wintew.

What awe the roots that cwutch, what bwanches gwow

Out of this stony wubbish?!?! Son of man,

You cannyot say, ow guess, fow you knyow onwy

A heap of bwoken images, whewe the sun beats,

And the dead twee gives nyo shewtew, the cwicket nyo wewief,

And the dwy stonye nyo sound of watew. Onwy

Thewe is shadow undew this wed wock,

(Come in undew the shadow of this wed wock),

And I wiww show you something diffewent fwom either

Your shadow at mownying stwiding behind you

Ow youw shadow at evenying wising to meet you;

I wiww show you feaw in a handfuw of dust.

Fwisch weht der Wind

Der Heimat zu,

Mein Iwisch Kind,

Wo weiwest du?

"You gave me hyacinths fiwst a yeaw ago;

"They called me the hyacinth giww."

—Yet when we came back, wate, fwom the Hyacinth gawden,

Youw awms fuww, and youw haiw wet, I couwd nyot

Speak, and my eyes faiwed, I was nyeithew

Wiving nyow dead, and I knyew nyothing,

Wooking into the heawt of light, the siwence.

Od' und weew das Meew.

Madame Sosostwis, famous clairvoyante,

Had a bad cowd, nyevewthewess

Is knyown to be the wisest woman in Euwope,

With a wicked pack of cawds. Hewe, said she,

Is youw cawd, the dwowned Phoenyician Saiwow,

(Those awe peawws that wewe his eyes. Wook!)

Hewe is Bewwadonnya, the Wady of the Wocks,

The wady of situations.

Hewe is the man with thwee staves, and hewe the Wheew,

And hewe is the onye-eyed mewchant, and this cawd,

Which is bwank, is something he cawwies on his back,

Which I am fowbidden to see. I do nyot find

The Hanged Man. Feaw death by watew.

I see cwowds of peopwe, walking wound in a ring.

Thank you. If you see deaw Mws. Equitonye,

Teww hew I bwing the howoscope mysewf:

Onye must be so cawefuw these days.

Unweaw City,

Under the bwown fog of a wintew dawn,

A cwowd flowed uvw Wondon Bwidge, so many,

I had nyot thought death had undonye so many.

Sighs, showt and infwequent, wewe exhawed,

And each man fixed his eyes befowe his feet.

Fwowed up the hiww and down King William Street,

To whewe Saint Mawy Woownyoth kept the houws

With a dead sound on the finyaw stwoke of nine.

Thewe I saw onye I knyew, and stopped him, cwying "Stetson!

"You who wewe with me in the ships at Mywae!

"That corpse you pwanted wast yeaw in youw gawden,

"Has it begun to sprout?!! Wiww it bwoom this yeaw?

"Ow has the sudden fwost disturbed its bed?

"Oh keep the Dog faw hence, that's fwiend to men,

"Ow with his nyaiws he'ww dig it up again!

"You?!?1 hypocwite wecteuw!—mon sembwabwe,—mon fwèwe!"

II. A GAME OF CHESS

THE Chaiw she sat in, wike a burnyished thwone,

Gwowed on the mawbwe, whewe the gwass

Hewd up by standawds wwought with fwuited vinyes

Fwom which a gowden Cupidon peeped out

(Anyothew hid his eyes behind his wing)

Doubwed the fwames of sevenbwanched candewabwa

Wefwecting wight upon the tabwe as

The gwittew of hew jewels wose to meet it,

Fwom satin cases pouwed in wich pwofusion;

In viaws of ivowy and cowouwed gwass

Unstoppewed, wuwked hew stwange synthetic pewfumes,

Unguent, powdewed, ow wiquid—twoubwed, confused

And dwowned the sense in odouws; stiwwed by the aiw

That fweshened fwom the window, these ascended

In fattenying the pwowonged candwe-fwames,

Fwung theiw smoke into the waqueawia,

Stiwwing the pattewn on the coffewed ceiwing.

Huge sea-wood fed with coppew

Buwnyed gween and owange, fwamed by the cowouwed stonye,

In which sad wight a cawvèd dowphin swam.

Abuv the antique mantew was dispwayed

As though a window gave upon the sywvan scenye

The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king

So rudely fowced; yet there the nyightingawe

Fiwwed all the desewt with inviowabwe voice

And stiww she cwied, and stiww the world puwsues,

"Jug Jug" to diwty eaws.

And othew withewed stumps of time

Were towd upon the wawws; stawing fowms

Weanyed out, weanying, hushing the woom encwosed.

Footsteps shuffwed on the staiw.

Undew the fiwewight, undew the bwush, hew hair

Spread out in fiery points

Gwowed into wowds, then wouwd be savagewy stiww.

"My nyewves awe bad tonyight. Yes, bad. Stay with me.

"Speak to me. Why do you nyevew speak?!! Speak.

"What awe you thinking of?!?1 What thinking?!?1 What?

"I nyevew knyow what you awe thinking. Think."

I think we awe in wats' awwey

Whewe the dead men wost theiw bonyes.

"What is that nyoise?"

The wind undew the doow.

"What is that nyoise nyow!!11 What is the wind doing?"

Nyothing again nyothing.

"Do

"You knyow nyothing?!! Do you see nyothing?!! Do you wemembew

"Nyothing?"

I wemembew

Those awe peawws that wewe his eyes.

"Are you awive, ow nyot?!?! Is there nyothing in youw head?"

But

O O O O that Shakespehewian Wag—

It's so ewegant

So intewwigent

"What shaww I do nyow!!11 What shaww I do?"

"I shaww wush out as I am, and wawk the stweet

"With my haiw down, so. What shaww we do tomowwow?

"What shaww we evew do?"

The hot watew at ten.

And if it wains, a cwosed car at fouw.

And we shaww pway a game of chess,

Pwessing widwess eyes and waiting fow a knyock upon the doow.

When Wiw's husband got demobbed, I said—

I didn't mince my wowds, I said to hew mysewf,

Huwwy up please its time

Nyow Awbewt's coming back, make youwsewf a bit smawt.

He'ww want to knyow what you donye with that money he gave you

To get youwsewf some teeth. He did, I was thewe.

You have them all out, Wiw, and get a nyice set,

He said, I swear, I can't beaw to wook at you.

And nyo mowe can't I, I said, and think of poow Awbewt,

He's been in the awmy fouw years, he wants a good time,

And if you don't give it him, thewe's othews wiww, I said.

Oh is thewe, she said. Something o' that, I said.

Then I'll knyow who to thank, she said, and give me a stwaight wook.

Huwwy up please its time

If you don't wike it you can get on with it, I said,

Othews can pick and choose if you can't.

But if Awbewt makes off, it won't be fow lack of tewwing.

You ought to be ashamed, I said, to wook so antique.

(And hew onwy thirty-onye.)

I can't hewp it, she said, puwwing a wong face,

It's them pills I took, to bwing it off, she said.

(She's had five awweady, and nyeawwy died of young Geowge.)

The chemist said it wouwd be awwight, but I've nyevew been the same.

You awe a proper foow, I said.

Weww, if Awbewt wont weave you awonye, there it is, I said,

What you get mawwied fow if you dont want chiwdwen?

Huwwy up please its time

Weww, that Sunday Awbewt was home, they had a hot gammon,

And they asked me in to dinnew, to get the beauty of it hot—

Huwwy up please its time

Goonyight Biww. Goonyight Wou. Goonyight May. Goonyight.

Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight.

Good nyight, wadies, good nyight, sweet wadies, good nyight, good nyight.

III. THE FIWE SEWMON

THE wivew's tent is broken: the wast fingews of weaf

Cwutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind

Cwosses the bwown wand, unheawd. The nymphs awe depawted.

Sweet Thames, wun softwy, tiww I end my song.

The wivew bears nyo empty bottwes, sandwich papews,

Siwk handkewchiefs, cawdboawd boxes, cigarette ends

Ow othew testimony of summew nyights. The nymphs awe depawted.

And theiw fwiends, the woitewing heiws of city diwectows;

Depawted, have weft nyo addwesses.

By the watews of Weman I sat down and wept . . .

Sweet Thames, wun softwy tiww I end my song,

Sweet Thames, wun softwy, fow I speak nyot woud ow wong.

But at my back in a cowd bwast I heaw

The wattwe of the bonyes, and chuckwe spwead fwom eaw to eaw.

A wat cwept softwy thwough the vegetation

Dwagging its swimy bewwy on the bank

Whiwe I was fishing in the duww canyaw

On a wintew evenying wound behind the gashouse.

Musing upon the king my bwothew's wweck

And on the king my fathew's death befowe him.

White bodies nyaked on the wow damp gwound

And bonyes cast in a wittwe wow dwy gawwet,

Wattwed by the rat's foot onwy, yeaw to year.

But at my back fwom time to time I heaw

The sound of howns and motows, which shaww bwing

Sweenyey to Mws. Powtew in the spwing.

O the moon shonye bwight on Mws. Powtew

And on hew daughtew

They wash theiw feet in soda watew

Et, O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole!

Twit twit twit

Jug jug jug jug jug jug

So rudely fowc'd.

Teweu

Unweaw City

Under the bwown fog of a wintew nyoon

Mw. Eugenyides, the Smywnya mewchant

Unshaven, with a pocket fuww of cuwwants

C.i.f. London: documents at sight,

Asked me in demotic French

To wuncheon at the Cannyon Street Hotew

Fowwowed by a weekend at the Metwopowe.

At the viowet houw, when the eyes and back

Tuwn upward fwom the desk, when the human enginye waits

Like a taxi thwobbing waiting,

I Tiwesias, though bwind, thwobbing between two wives,

Owd man with wwinkwed femawe bweasts, can see

At the viowet houw, the evenying houw that stwives

Homewawd, and bwings the saiwow home fwom sea,

The typist home at teatime, cweaws hew bweakfast, wights

Hew stuv, and ways out food in tins.

Out of the window pewiwouswy spwead

Hew dwying combinyations touched by the sun's wast ways,

On the divan awe piwed (at nyight hew bed)

Stockings, swippews, camisowes, and stays.

I Tiwesias, owd man with wwinkwed dugs

Pewceived the scenye, and fowetowd the west—

I too awaited the expected guest.

He, the young man cawbuncuwaw, awwives,

A smaww house agent's cwewk, with onye bowd stawe,

Onye of the wow on whom assuwance sits

As a siwk hat on a Bradford millionaire.

The time is nyow pwopitious, as he guesses,

The meaw is ended, she is bowed and tiwed,

Endeavouws to engage hew in cawesses

Which stiww awe unwepwoved, if undesiwed.

Fwushed and decided, he assauwts at once;

Expwowing hands encountew nyo defence;

His vanyity wequiwes nyo wesponse,

And makes a wewcome of indiffewence.

(And I Tiresias have fowesuffewed aww

Enyacted on this same divan ow bed;

I who have sat by Thebes bewow the wall

And wawked among the wowest of the dead.)

Bestows onye finyaw patwonyising kiss,

And gwopes his way, finding the stairs unwit . . .

She tuwns and wooks a moment in the gwass,

Hawdwy aware of hew depawted wuvw;

Hew brain awwows onye hawf-fowmed thought to pass:

"Weww nyow that's done: and I'm gwad it's ovew."

When luvly woman stoops to fowwy and

Paces about hew woom again, awonye,

She smoothes hew haiw with automatic hand,

And puts a wecowd on the gwamophone.

"This music cwept by me upon the watews"

And awong the Stwand, up Queen Victowia Stweet.

O City city, I can sometimes heaw

Beside a pubwic bar in Wowew Thames Stweet,

The pweasant whinying of a mandowinye

And a cwattew and a chattew fwom within

Whewe fishmen wounge at noon: whewe the wawws

Of Magnyus Mawtyw howd

Inyexpwicabwe spwendouw of Ionyian white and gowd.

The wivew sweats

Oiw and taw

The bawges dwift

With the tuwnying tide

Wed saiws

Wide

To weewawd, swing on the heavy spaw.

The bawges wash

Dwifting wogs

Down Gweenwich weach

Past the Iswe of Dogs.

Weiawawa weia

Wawwawa weiawawa

Ewizabeth and Weicestew

Beating oaws280

The stewn was fowmed

A giwded sheww

Wed and gold

The bwisk sweww

Wippwed both showes

Southwest wind

Cawwied down stweam

The peal of bewws

White towews

Weiawawa weia

Wawwawa weiawawa

"Twams and dusty twees.

Highbuwy bowe me. Richmond and Kew

Undid me. By Richmond I waised my knyees

Supinye on the fwoow of a nyawwow canyoe."

"My feet awe at Moowgate, and my heawt

Undew my feet. Aftew the event

He wept. He pwomised 'a nyew stawt.'

I made nyo comment. What shouwd I wesent?"

"On Mawgate Sands.

I can connyect

Nyothing with nyothing.

The bwoken fingewnyaiws of diwty hands.

My peopwe humbwe peopwe who expect

Nyothing."

wa wa

To Cawthage then I came

Buwnying buwnying buwnying buwnying

O Wowd Thou pwuckest me out

O Wowd Thou pwuckest

buwnying

IV. DEATH BY WATEW

PHWEBAS the Phoenyician, a fowtnyight dead,

Forgot the cwy of guwws, and the deep sea sweww

And the pwofit and woss.

A cuwwent undew sea

Picked his bonyes in whispews. As he wose and feww

He passed the stages of his age and youth

Entewing the whiwwpoow.

Gentiwe ow Jew

O you who turn the wheew and wook to windwawd,

Considew Phwebas, who was once handsome and taww as you.

V. WHAT THE THUNDEW SAID

AFTEW the towchwight wed on sweaty faces

Aftew the fwosty siwence in the gawdens

Aftew the agony in stony pwaces

The shouting and the cwying

Pwison and pawace and wevewbewation

Of thundew of spwing uvw distant mountains

He who was wiving is nyow dead

We who wewe wiving awe nyow dying

With a wittwe patience

Hewe is nyo watew but onwy rock

Wock and nyo watew and the sandy woad

The woad winding abuv among the mountains

Which awe mountains of wock without watew

If there wewe watew we shouwd stop and dwink

Amongst the wock onye cannyot stop ow think

Sweat is dwy and feet awe in the sand

If there wewe onwy watew amongst the wock

Dead mount in mouth of cawious teeth that cannyot spit

Hewe onye can nyeithew stand nyow wie nyow sit

Thewe is nyot even siwence in the mountains

But dwy stewiwe thundew without wain

Thewe is nyot even sowitude in the mountains

But wed suwwen faces snyeew and snyaww

Fwom doows of mudcwacked houses

If there wewe watew

And nyo wock

If there wewe wock

And awso watew

And watew

A spwing

A poow among the wock

If there wewe the sound of watew onwy

Nyot the cicada

And dwy gwass singing

But sound of watew uvw a wock

Whewe the hermit-thrush sings in the pinye trees

Drip dwop drip dwop dwop dwop dwop

But there is nyo watew

Who is the thiwd who wawks awways beside you?

When I count, there awe onwy you and I togethew

But when I wook ahead up the white woad

Thewe is awways anyothew onye walking beside you

Gwiding wwapt in a bwown mantwe, hooded

I do nyot knyow whethew a man ow a woman

— But who is that on the othew side of you?

What is that sound high in the aiw

Muwmuw of matewnyaw wamentation

Who awe those hooded howdes swawming

Ovew endwess pwains, stumbwing in cwacked eawth

Winged by the flat howizon onwy

What is the city uvw the mountains

Cwacks and wefowms and buwsts in the viowet aiw

Fawwing towews

Jewusawem Athens Awexandwia

Viennya Wondon

Unweaw

A woman dwew hew wong bwack haiw out tight

And fiddwed whispew music on those stwings

And bats with baby faces in the viowet wight

Whistwed, and beat theiw wings

And cwawwed head downwawd down a bwackenyed wall

And upside down in aiw wewe towews

Towwing reminyiscent bells, that kept the houws

And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wewws.

In this decayed hole among the mountains

In the faint moonwight, the gwass is singing

Ovew the tumbwed gwaves, about the chapew

Thewe is the empty chapew, onwy the wind's home.

It has nyo windows, and the doow swings,

Dwy bonyes can harm nyo onye.

Onwy a cock stood on the rooftree

Co co wico co co wico

In a fwash of wightnying. Then a damp gust

Bwinging wain

Ganga was sunken, and the wimp weaves

Waited fow wain, whiwe the bwack cwouds

Gathewed faw distant, uvw Himavant.

The jungwe cwouched, humped in silence.

Then spoke the thundew

Datta: what have we given?

My fwiend, bwood shaking my heawt

The awfuw dawing of a moment's suwwendew

Which an age of prudence can nyevew wetwact

By this, and this onwy, we have existed

Which is nyot to be found in ouw obituawies

Ow in memowies dwaped by the benyeficent spidew

Ow undew seaws bwoken by the wean sowicitow

In ouw empty wooms

Dayadhvam: I have heawd the key

Tuwn in the doow once and turn once onwy

We think of the key, each in his pwison

Thinking of the key, each confirms a pwison

Onwy at nightfaww, aethewiaw wumouws

Wevive fow a moment a bwoken Cowiowanyus

Damyata: The boat wesponded

Gaiwy, to the hand expewt with sail and oaw

The sea was cawm, youw heawt wouwd have wesponded

Gaiwy, when invited, beating obedient

To contwowwing hands

I sat upon the showe

Fishing, with the awid pwain behind me

Shaww I at least set my wands in owdew?

Wondon Bwidge is fawwing down fawwing down fawwing down

Poi s'ascose nyew foco che gwi affinya

Quando fiam ceu chewidon— O swawwow swawwow

We Pwince d'Aquitainye à la touw abowie

These fwagments I have showed against my wuins

Why then Iwe fit you. Hiewonymo's mad againye.

Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.

Shantih shantih shantih

#poetry #ts eliot #the waste land #uwu #uwufied

6 notes · View notes

yuri-alexseygaybitch · 3 years ago

Text

"John Wick is a Modern Fairy Tale"

#john wick #tbh i'm obsessed with this #genderfuck king #jam wock

387 notes · View notes

llycaons · 4 months ago

Text

some stories are literally a single character's life story and if they're good characters then it's a great time

cool when a character's backstory goes back to even before they were born so you can see the forces that shaped them from basically the moment they were conceived

#the tagline IS the life and times of the wocked witch...#cql was like this....#wicked lb

5 notes · View notes

jabberwick · 9 months ago

Text

Master fisherman, Crowned King of Ice Cubes

#he's actually good at fishing he's also just an idiot #dont starve together #dst #wick and wock #dont starve fanart #don't starve oc #don't starve

65 notes · View notes

crue-sixx · 6 years ago

Text

Expecting (John Wick Imagine)

Expecting pt. II

Expecting pt. III

Summary: You find out you’re expecting with the Baba Yaga.

There are NO John Wick: Chapter 3 spoilers in this.

As you stared down at the white stick in your hand, your eyes widened at the realization of what the little plus sign meant.

You were pregnant.

It came as a complete surprise. You and your boyfriend, John Wick, were so careful. Something obviously happened though because you were pregnant. This was the fourth test you’d taken and the fourth plus sign you’d stared down at. You were definitely sure you were pregnant when you added in your late period and the morning sickness you were already dealing with.

You didn’t know how to feel.

You felt excited at the thought of a baby that you and John had created together was growing inside of you, but you were also nervous. This was obviously unplanned. John was still working in a dangerous world. You’d talked about settling down and having a family of your own eventually when John finally retired from the business. He wasn’t retired yet so it wasn’t the right time. What were you going to tell John?

You finally made yourself look away from the pregnancy test and let out the breath you’d been holding. You looked over and found John’s dog standing in the doorway of the bathroom, staring at you as if he knew the situation.

“Well, I guess I don’t have to worry about you telling John about this, huh?” You asked the pit bull.

He tilted his head slightly as if wondering what you were talking about, but he was soon on alert when he heard a door slam from downstairs.

“Y/N, I’m home!” you heard John call out.

“Shit,” you mumbled as the pit bull barked and went running out of the room to greet John.

You quickly grabbed the tests and the boxes they came in, looking around for somewhere to put them where John wouldn’t find them.

“Sweetheart, where are you at?!” John called out. It sounded like he was coming up the stairs.

“Be out in a minute!” You called out to him as you opened the drawer that contained your feminine products. John shouldn’t be going into that anytime soon.

You’d just closed the drawer when John appeared in the doorway, looking sharp in his tailored suit. He didn’t look like he’d been in any serious tussles so it must’ve been an easy day for him.

“Everything alright?” He asked you as he looked at you.

“Yes!” You said quickly before clearing your throat and pushing some hair behind your ear. “I mean, yeah. I’m good. Why do you ask?”

“You just seem a bit...jumpy is all,” he replied before he came up to you.

If only he knew. He leaned down and placed a kiss on your head, which calmed your nerves a bit. You’d have to tell John, but you didn’t know how you would tell him. That was some big news to spring up on someone.

“Would you like to go out for dinner tonight, babe?” He asked after he pulled away. “I was thinking we could go to that new Italian restaurant. Give it a try.”

You made a face at the sound of Italian. You usually really enjoyed it, but the sound and thought of it made your stomach turn.

“How about we just hit up our favorite Chinese spot?” you recommended. “I’m craving some hibachi rice.”

“Sounds good to me,” he responded with a nod. He kissed the top of your head. “I’m just going to take a shower first.”

You nodded and let him go before you walked out of the bathroom. You looked down at your outfit, which consisted of leggings and a hoodie. You decided you should probably change before heading out on a date with John.

You went into the walk-in closet you shared and began looking around. You were distracted as you went through your clothes, not really paying attention to any of it. You were understandably proccupied by other thoughts besides what you should wear.

You were pregnant...a baby was growing inside of you at that very moment. It was mind blowing to even think about. You were beginning to become even more excited at the prospect of a little one running around the house. You could imagine your future child looking so much like John as well, which put a smile on your face. You could also imagine John running around the house with them and playing with them.

Would he even be happy about this though? Was he ready to settle down? He was still in a dangerous line of work and you couldn’t let your child around any of that. Your head was beginning to spin with all the thoughts that were running through it.

You were so lost in your head, in fact, that you didn’t notice John walk into the closet. You only knew of his presence when you heard a throat clearing. You snapped your head over to him and felt your heart pick up speed at what he was holding in his hand.

“Is there something you would like to tell me, Y/N?” He asked as he looked down at the pregnancy tests.

How did he even find those?! He never went into that drawer. None of his things were in it so you assumed he didn’t go through it.

“I...I was going to tell you,” you finally told him.

“How long have you known?” He asked next as he stepped up closer to you.

I only found out today,” you replied. “I’ve been feeling off lately and realized I was...late. I bought a few tests and took them. They were all positive.”

“So...you’re pregnant?” He asked.

He was asking an awful lot of questions.

“Well, according to those...yes,” you answered him nervously. You couldn’t tell how he was feeling just yet. “A doctor hasn’t confirmed it of course, but I think it’s pretty obvious I am.”

John was quiet for a few long moments. You held your breath as you watched him staring down at the tests as if he were trying to comprehend the information you’d just told him. You were starting to worry...until you saw a smile appear on his face.

“I’m going to be a father,” he mumbled to himself then looked at you. “We’re going to be parents.”

You bit your lip and nodded your head as you kept your eyes on him, not missing his expression for a second.

“I’m going to be a dad!” He yelled out with excitement as his smile grew.

You released the breath you’d been holding and smiled in return. “Yes, you’re going to be a dad, John.”

John wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug, laughing with excitement as you felt tears in your eyes. Tears of joy of course. He took the news better than you could’ve ever imagined. Excitement and joy was radiating off him. He pulled back slightly to kiss you sweetly before resting his forehead on yours.

“I was so worried about how you’d take the news, honestly,” you told him. “I know this is so unexpected and unplanned.”

“Baby, I’m so fucking happy,” he told you with a grin as he pulled his head back and brought a hand up to wipe some of your tears away. “We’re going to be parents. As long as you’re happy about this too of course.”

“John, I couldn’t be happier,” you told him with a smile. “I can’t wait to have this baby with you, but what about your...job? We can’t raise a baby around that. I can’t risk anything happening to you either. We have more to think about than us now.”

“I’ll quit,” he said simply. “I’ll leave and never look back. I’ve been planning to retire anyways. Y/N, I’ve been thinking and I’m so ready to settle down with you and lead a normal life. This baby just proves that. I love you so much, sweetheart.”

You were crying all over again, but smiling as you did. “I love you too, John...so much. You’ll be an amazing father.”

“And you’ll be an amazing mother,” he replied and pecked your lips before he picked you up, making you squeal.

“John, we have to get ready to go,” you told him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around waist.

“Change of plans,” he responded as he carried you out of the closet. “We’ll order takeout, but right now I just feel like being alone with you.”

He deposited you on the bed and soon came to lay down beside you. He kissed you softly before he looked down at your stomach, resting his hand there with a huge smile.

762 notes · View notes

gryfon-spanish-werewolf · 5 years ago

Text

Soulsborne!Frozen AU: Great Knight Annatorias, the Abyss Walker

This is @jabs-wocks and @daughterofhel’s fault but I’m also @-ing myself because apparently I don’t need much encouragement to write stories sometimes so…

Before getting started, this entire 3.5k (yes, that's the correct number) brain-on-fire, sleep depriving idea, was inspired by two pieces by @azaffranist and one by twitter user @agongbushou. I highly recommend checking the linked art out before reading, since I reference them at times directly.

Okay Soulsborne!Frozen au, Anna is Knight Artorias, legendary fighter, sent to the Abyss to seek and destroy the Darkness of the world itself.

No pressure or anything.

Anna is a brave hearted woman, shoulder to shoulder with those who fought and killed nigh immortal dragons. Her kind pluck such foul creatures from the sky with arrows larger than trees, with lightning more forked than a hurricane, and slay enemies with the kindness of silver and gold-tipped daggers.

Her own mighty broadsword swings over her left shoulder with ease, a smile on her lips as she walks. The Age of Fire is upon them, but there is fear in the hearts of the gods, and to save those who would, without help, succumb to the evil inside of them Great Knight Anna will stop at nothing.

There are monsters to kill, perverted and misguided souls, each one more disturbing and profane than the last, as each is born from the Abyss itself, a dark, treacherous place where no mortal would dare tread. The city of Oolacile is threatened, sinking slowly into Darkness as an ancient, promethean man eats it from the inside out.

But Anna holds courage in her heart, and should she need a reminder of strength or solace, she need only look to her right and Elsa, her direwolf companion, is next to her, ice-blue eyes speaking more than a voice ever could. Her pure white fur makes the Darkness shrink, her frost-like Light magic a boon in the most murky corridor. Elsa has a nose for danger, and can conjure crystals to warn of dangerous earth, poisoned water, a new rash of weather over the mountains, or the lurking threat of fire. Her pelt is soft and warm, and in the mountains where they camp she’s as cozy as a bonfire, her fluffy tail wrapped around Anna’s middle as the Knight snoozes against her side.

With such skill and determination, and pureness of heart, Anna is more than well equipped to fight the Darkness, especially when Elsa is with her every step of the way.

The Abyss calls itself Manus and it is a nightmare.

For the first time, Anna is overwhelmed. She is battered against the walls of this cave, she is clawed and crushed and flogged with fists of pure Darkness. Her ears ring with primal screams. Elsa’s magic is no more effective than her teeth, and Anna watches as her companion lunges at the Manus’ middle, watches how the Darkness warps impossibly, sees a hand of incredible size form above Elsa’s unprotected back. Anna moves.

She does not feel her arm shatter (that pain will come later) but she hears it, cracking and shredding and splintering, heedless of muscle and skin.

The shield’s magic forces Manus back, screeching into the Dark. A brief respite.

Elsa pants hard, the concussive force of the hit rattling already exhausted bones, empty of energy and magic. Anna knows Elsa will not survive another blow. She is still young, a pup, and deserves to grow, large and strong. A pelt, a life, as bright as Elsa’s should not be swallowed by the Dark.

Anna speaks the runes and the shield ignites with Light, protecting Elsa from the Abyss forever, but also protecting Elsa from following Anna as she hefts her greatsword in her off hand and limps back towards the sound of Manus’ roars. She closes her ears to Elsa’s pitiful cries.

The Dark would not claim another victim.

But it does.

-----

Whatever thou art, stay away.

Soon I will be consumed by ‘Them’, by the Dark.

All of you… forgive me. For I have availed you nothing.

-----

Hundreds of years later Elsa’s ears pick up the sound of an interloper in the graveyard. She rouses herself, shaking rainwater from her coat. The snowflake mark on her brow has dulled, no longer lively purple but a morose kind of brown, the color of bloodied earth long dry.

Elsa is tired. Thieves keep coming to steal what is most precious to her. Could they not see the weapons of their fellows littered on the ground? Monuments to greed, pillars of failure each one of them, a blade planted vertically in the dirt next to small, unmarked headstones. Don’t they see? They seek an object that will only kill them, the wicked artifact that allowed Anna to walk into the Abyss unharmed, only for claws of black to tear her asunder. The cursed item that allowed Anna’s fate.

No one should have the power to throw themselves so willingly onto Death’s sword.

As the thief approaches Anna’s enormous headstone, reaches their hand out to touch Anna’s greatsword, Elsa makes her presence known. She is a formidable sight: a fully grown Great Wolf, she towers, mountainous, over this puny looter. Anger shoots through Elsa, igniting her limbs as she leaps down and tears Anna’s weapon from the dirt. Again. To stop one so desperate to kill themselves. Again.

Elsa howls at the moon, anguish and guilt and fury clashing within her.

Let Anna rest, her work is done. Do not walk in her footsteps, as there lies only suffering.

She repositions the sword in her mouth and swings, long and sweeping as she has seen Anna do many times before.

Blood stains the rocky headstones in crimson arcs.

----

Elsa awakes yet again and everything has changed.

It is dark, unnaturally so. There is no graveyard, there are no trees, no whisper of wind through her coat. She is flat on her back and there is a strange man in a wheelchair to her right, telling her things. Yharnam? An Outsider? He mentions blood and suddenly Elsa’s nose is filled with it, cloying and pressing against her. How had she not noticed it before?

How also had she not noticed she was strapped to a bed?

He begins his so-called transfusion and Elsa sees that her feet do not end in paws and her tail is missing. Her teeth are no longer sharp as she tests them with her tongue and her muzzle does not like to growl but to grumble, too short to carry the sound forward.

But she does not have time to contemplate this as her vision blurs and she falls backwards into the dark once more.

A Beast of blood emerges from the floor but Elsa feels no kinship with it. The Beast is twisted and wrong, and as it reaches out to touch her it bursts into flame, screaming. Perhaps her Light magic still works here… or perhaps Anna’s shield is still bound to her, after all this time. For surely that creature is borne of the Abyss.

So too must these small pygmy-like wretches crawling up her stomach and chest. Fear jolts through Elsa’s heart as these pale things are not deflected by magic and instead reach her head and cover her eyes. A voice whispers in her mind.

“Ah… you’ve found a hunter…”

Anna?

The Hunter’s Dream is serene and soft compared to the Night eating Yharnam alive. Here there are flowers, a pleasant breeze that does not carry wails, and though there are graves it seems a peaceful place of rest for all, not just the dead.

And this is where Elsa finds her.

Anna. Her Knight, her long lost friend, lying against the garden wall. Her eyes are closed, peaceful in sleep. Elsa approaches with great joy but… something is wrong.

Anna… doesn’t smell like Anna. Elsa presses her nose against the woman’s cheek, just to be sure, but is chastised by the man inside a house at the top of the steps, the one who must have brought her here. Elsa remembers a piercing pain in her chest followed by a long dark like a heavy blanket, deep and inevitable. Perhaps she died the night of the thief, and this world is simply the next one. Anna, or perhaps not-Anna, has not stirred in the slightest to Elsa’s presence, and with another beckoning of the old man, Elsa realizes this is a mystery to be put aside for the moment. Besides, Anna is peaceful in this state, and… she was not peaceful the last time Elsa saw her. Maybe this is where she has been sleeping all along, as Elsa watched over her grave in the other world.

Elsa slowly gets used to walking on two legs, though she always misses her tail, expecting it on the back of her calves every other step. She is both taller and shorter than she feels she should be but the little pygmies do not laugh when she misses her target because of this. In fact they are friendly, bringing her trinkets at times. She understands them a little, as they too are non-verbal. Human language still eludes her, though Elsa realizes she has now, the ability to speak it, as clearly and easily as she used to speak to Anna with just her movements. No one seems to mind her silence, and in turn she feels no need to break it.

Except for the Doll.

That’s what the man calls her, the not-Anna. Now awake, she is kind and gentle, and while her warmth kindles familiarity in Elsa’s soul, it is not enough like the bonfire of a spirit Knight Anna always possessed. Though she shares Anna’s face, her voice is thinner, like a creek through reeds, shallow like music from another room. If this is what her Anna has been reduced to, then Elsa will care for her as she always has, her silent companion. But it is the only time Elsa wishes she could speak, align her muzzle and teeth and tongue in the right order for speech. But she, the Doll… Anna… this woman, seems to read Elsa’s eyes well enough, and always wishes her wellness and luck in her hunts.

The Yharnam Elsa now stalks may be new, but it is not unfamiliar. There are monsters here too, but they are not undead but Beasts, sick like the Darkness made humans sick. The town conjures a feeling of familiar unease, it is like Oolacile being consumed all over again. Elsa has been given a strange blade: a cane-sword, they called it a trick weapon. It has a different kind of grace than Anna’s greatsword, but Elsa can admire its stinging, erratic bite as it curls around shields and tears flesh with the same ease as her old jaw.

Elsa resigns herself to the Doll, this copy of Anna, a pale comparison but not an unkind one. Until the day she learns of Lady Anna, an Old Hunter, experienced slayer, and roaming ghost of Yharnam. The man tells Elsa that Lady Anna wishes to exterminate Beasts so that people can live in peace, forever, and she is as ruthless as she is discerning, relentless in her quest. Even the Doll has nothing but admiration in her too-soft voice for this person.

Elsa needs to meet this her, and sets out immediately. She sounds… very much like Great Knight Anna: firmly set in her beliefs and desire for goodness and peace in her grisly work, but Elsa swallows the glass-like shards of hope rising in her throat. Disappointment would be its own kind if dying.

She finds her in the Clock Tower. The likeness is uncanny, but if the Doll was an enthusiastic replacement, this body was a carbon copy. The swallowed glass gets lodged, stabbing into Elsa’s heart, but still, she dared not hope. This person, Lady Anna, was so… still. Knight Anna was never still, so much boundless energy, so much eagerness, the will to do good, to make safe haven, sometimes even robbed her of sleep. The woman sitting in a lonesome chair is not like that at all, she is calm, collected.

Perhaps she is dead.

Indeed, Lady Anna is covered in blood and Elsa does not see her chest breathe, not even an inch. Tentatively she reaches out a hand. Oh, now this would be cruel indeed - to find her Knight only for her to be dead and bloodless and empty of everything once again.

The vice-like grip around her wrist shocks Elsa from her thoughts.

“A corpse… should be left well alone.” A corpse, a corpse!? But Lady Anna is so very alive and her voice--

Unmistakable.

But quickly Elsa realizes she’s fighting for her life. There’s so much noise and movement and blood, so much blood it reeks. Lady Anna’s swings seem to come from nowhere, fire igniting in the wake of every slash and it’s dazzling and swift and uncanny… and yet.

Her stance may be foreign but her prowess is not, she directs her weapons with grace and skill, and the blades dance towards Elsa’s throat with a precision borne from battle hardened assurance.

Just like a knight. Just like Anna with her greatsword.

Suddenly Lady Anna is upon her, grabbing Elsa’s collar and pulling, clutching Elsa to her chest. It’s rough and unfriendly but Elsa knows deep down this is new and startling for both of them. Anna’s breathing is ragged despite her absolute dominance over the battlefield, her voice shaking with some burdening magnitude.

“I know you,” Lady Anna whispers in her ear.

And Elsa, having not made a sound this entire time except in exhaustion or pain, gets her too short tongue working and too small teeth out of the way to say, “And I know you. You are Lady Anna, protector of Yharnam, slayer of the Darkness that lurks in the hearts of men to make them Beasts, and you have done well to make a name for yourself here. But all of that I know only because I found myself here, in a Dream. When I was young, and Awake, I knew you as Great Knight Anna, warrior against the Darkness itself, and you held in your powerful grip a sword as tall as you so that you could always slay something larger than yourself. It flashed as brightly as your smile until it could no more. And the last I saw you was when I had no shared language to warn you, no voice to scream in grief as your arm shattered and yielded to profane horror. Despite your broken body you used your only able limb to shield me against death itself, magical and eternal. But it kept me from you, and you walked back into the Dark where I could not follow and then there was the most terrible quiet. I saw someone go in afterwards, and only then did I hear your voice again, but as it was never meant to be: broken and hollow and defeated. Dark.”

Lady Anna’s hand shakes, her other poised over Elsa’s heart. It could drive right through her chest, seek the Beast in Elsa’s blood and rip it out. But perhaps it was there before the infusion, one of kindred spirit instead of illness and madness. Anna releases her hold without warning and Elsa’s knees hit the ground hard.

“I… have felt a loneliness for so long,” Lady Anna says, almost to herself. “I have searched for years, every nook and cranny, guided by nothing but some deep knowledge of a phantom ‘other’ by my side, etched so deeply it could be in my very own blood. But this presence, this… twin soul, has never showed itself.” She looks at her swords. “They did not used to split, it was one weapon, until I could not stomach the void anymore. I threw it away, and fashioned these. They… somehow I knew I needed two. There were supposed to be two. Two… of… us.”

Elsa goes to answer but the words tangle in her mouth, gargled and guttural and rough. Speech flees from her again, focus gone, and Elsa clutches her throat, gasping. Lady Anna twitches, hands tightening on her weapons.

Anna’s voice holds the tension of a tripwire. “You--... She... I gave someone a name once. My closest friend. She had unique Light magic: small diamonds, blue, beautiful.” Her eyes flashed with her steel. “Show me. Tell me her name, or be not Hunter but Beast.”

And Elsa does.

The Clock Tower fills with floating diamonds, glittering and bright, etched with symbols of safety and protection and Light. They move and spin, arranging themselves into a shape, not a Yharnam rune but an older one, one only Anna would know. Elsa’s name in the language of the Age of Fire.

Anna drops her swords, clattering to the floor and embraces Elsa with arms so fierce and desperate that Elsa cannot breathe, until Anna’s shoulders slump and hitch with sobs and now Elsa holds Anna with tired, grateful hands.

“I thought…,” Anna manages, trembling in Elsa’s grasp, “I thought it was a Dream. All that before… really happened.” Anna clutches at Elsa’s clothes, like burying fingers in thick fur, “I have missed you every moment of my death, including all the seconds from when I Awoke without you, until now.”

Elsa wipes Anna’s tears away, clumsy in her joy but her eyes say everything her stubborn tongue won’t, and it is just like before, when she knows Anna understands her completely.

“In my defense,” Anna sniffs, regaining a bit of control, “I thought you’d be taller. And well, you were a wolf the last time we met.”

Elsa can’t help but smile at that, lending Anna an arm as they stand. The smile turns into quite the wolfish grin indeed when they realize at the same time that Elsa is in fact, an inch or so taller than Anna.

“You really did grow up without me, didn’t you?” Anna says wistfully, as though to chastise for leaving her behind.

Elsa makes a huffing sound that they both know is laughter and presses her forehead against Anna’s.

Finally. Her Knight. Her Lady.

Her home.

This time, neither will face the Darkness alone.

------

Alternate Endings, courtesy of questions asked by @daughterofhel (who patiently let me tell the ENTIRE story of Artorias and Sif AND the Good Hunter and the Doll and Lady Maria to contextualize this… entire… thing)

-Lady Maria!Anna is not immune to Beast blood like in canon and after joining up with Sif!Elsa actually succumbs to the plague and goes feral. Their roles are now reversed, Elsa is the badass Hunter with a Beast companion. They still know each other well enough to communicate but are ostracized from the other Hunters because Elsa refuses to kill Anna

-Because Elsa was a creature in her past life, the Beast blood takes hold very naturally, and it does not change her personality or sense of self. Lady Anna reclaims her greatsword trick weapon and travels Yharnam with Elsa by her side, now a were-beast. The magical snowflake on her forehead comes back and her fur is the same white/white-blonde as when she was a Great Wolf

-Lady Anna actually DOES rip Elsa’s heart out of her chest like that killer parry (for female Hunters only!), realizing seconds too late she has killed her life long friend who crossed time and space to find her. Distraught, Lady Anna consumes Elsa’s heart, drawing upon her vampiric, Vileblood ancestry to bond Elsa’s soul to hers. Other Hunters begin to hear rumors of a unique Beast stalking Yharnam, slaying it’s own kin and leaving behind oceans of blood. It has patchy red and white fur, a greatsword strapped to it’s back, and two different colored eyes: one green, one blue. Some even claim that it speaks to itself, though broken and twisted, and it will leave a trail of blue-glowing diamonds in areas safe to return to, lighting up the dark.

Players who fight this Beast are startled to learn that the heat-up phase is actually the Beast transforming into a much smaller, very human figure who begins to wield the trick weapon on its back with swift, deadly, and ferocious attacks. The figure will sometimes scale walls and launch attacks from above, the air along the cut of the weapon’s blade igniting into flame and leaving explosive blue crystals behind. Upon the boss’s defeat the player gets double the amount of Blood Echos they expect and as the person collapses a white soul emerges to entwine around a red one, dissipating into the ether together

#yeah I had this whole tag paragraph planned out but like -- I literally cannot remember it LMAO #anyway this was fun as HELL and really FUCKING SAD to write because Soulsborne is NOT HAPPY like EVER #obviously I bent the rules a little bit and changed some canon stuff because it fit better as a crossover but TBH #I have so many pages open with references to like. double check my memory on things #and I listened to all the boss themes while writing this and bruh the TEARS #but look I pulled a g-s-w fastball special: I WILL get my mildly happy ending and pluck it from the jaws of snapping depression if I have to #I mean the world of Bloodborne is still PRETTY AWFUL buuuuuut at least they're together and NOT TRAGICALLY DEAD #thank you #azaffranist #for your amazing excellent show-stopping feels-inducing brilliant art work #I had them pulled up in a side window the whole time I was writing so I would never forget them #sending an internet thank you out also to #agongbushou #who as far as I could find does not have a tumblr but thank you for your piece too it was BREATHTAKING #and hey jabs-wocks??? ily and I wanna say thank you to you too for being a TOP NOTCH enabler #this is for you buddy: may it quench some of your Dark Souls/Bloodborne Frozen needs #jabs-wocks #daughterofhel #Soulsborne!Frozen #Soulsborne x Frozen #crossover #my writing #I am GOING TO BED X'D #it is 6am and I have spent many many MMANY hours on this holy cripes

65 notes · View notes

depressedkakashihatake · 5 years ago

Note

YES IT'S SO COOL RIGHT

Like, Fugaku is an asshole, but the Wicked Eye?? It sounds badass as Hell and I love it a lot

Kakashi: You know i was trained by the yellow flash and i’m also the son of the white fang

Enemy: I heard you were also trained by the Wocked Eye

Kakashi: The whos a whata?

Enemy: Uchiha Fugaku

Kakashi *error code 405: nickname too cool for loser with it*

6 notes · View notes

someone-online · 6 years ago

Photo

HOLY SHIT

#WICKED IN MLP???#OH MY GODDDDD #oof i havent started season 9 bc im afraid of being sad that its ending #im waoting for it to go on netflix so i can feel like its lasting longer #BUT I CANT WAIT FOR T TO GO ON NETFLIX SO I CAN SEE THIS #LIKE FIRST PHANTOM OF THE OPERA NOW WOCKED

501 notes · View notes

purediscordhell · 7 years ago

Text

Deathwy Wove

Summary: I can't write a summary in OwO because I might combust so here we go: Roman and Virgil were walking down the street, going home after date night when a mugger tried to rob them. It was dark and nobody else was out, and something went terribly wrong. Roman got hurt and Virgil is left alone to cry over his dying loved one. This story takes place after Roman gets stabbed.

Pairing: Pwinxiety because not even our lovely emo and prince are safe from me.

Words: 494

Warnings: Brief mention of death. It’s really small so don’t worry, it’s not even really mentioned. Also: cringe.

A/N: I literally don't remember how this hellfic came into creation, but here it is. As usual, enjoy. If you go to the end of the fic on AO3, I’ve linked a Discord server so you all can yell at me.

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15956846

The fact that the wove of his wife was waying on the fwoow, gasping fow aiw that wouwdn’t come into his wungs, weawwy tugged at his heawtstwings. Viwgiw sucked in a deep bweath, twying to bwink the teaws fwom his eyes- Roman shouwdn’t have to see him cwy. Roman was awweady cwying- as much as he couwd, anyway.

Roman gwasped Viwgiw’s weft hand to his heawt tightwy, stwaining his voice to be heawd. He wanted to say something weawwy impowtant, and he couwdn’t do that if he was dead.

Viwgiw weaned down, taking in anothew shaky bweath. “What is it, Roman?”

Roman wicked his wips, cwosing his pwetty bwown eyes fow a moment, awmost as if he wewe steewing himsewf fow the pain that speaking wouwd cause him. Viwgiw sighed deepwy, cawding his fwee hand thwough his boyfwiend’s haiw. Roman seemed to wewax instantwy in the touch, which onwy made Viwgiw’s heawt cwench tightwy even mowe.

Roman opened his eyes aftew a few seconds, and Viwgiw weaned down to pwace a chaste kiss to his fowehead. Roman smiwes weakwy, and opens his mouth to speak.

“I wove you so much, sweetheawt, you know that?” He gwitted his teeth. “Don’t you fowget that, evew.” He fixed Viwgiw with a stewn gaze. “You got that, emo disastew? I wove you.”

Viwgiw nodded, choking back a sob. “I know, Roman. I know.” Teaws wewe fawwing off of both boy’s cheeks. “I wove you too, dwama queen. I wove you so, so much.” He wiped a few teaws off of roman’s cheek. “I wove you, Pwince Chawming. Don’t you fowget that, eithew.”

A smiwe of contentment made its way onto Roman’s face, and a deep sense of dwead seeped it’s way into Viwgiw’s stomach. He didn’t want to say goodbye. This was too soon. He had so much to say to the man waying down in fwont of him. So many nicknames fow him that he nevew got to say. Smaww acts of wove that he nevew got to do- that he’ww nevew get to do evew.

Roman wouwd nevew caww him his ‘way of dawk sunshine’ again. He’d nevew caww Roman ‘sweeping beauty’ evew again. They’d nevew have mowe tickwe fights. They wouwd nevew get to have ice cweam fow bweakfast and pancakes fow dinnew on theiw biwthday.

Roman weaches up and cups his fwee hand- now fwee fwom cwutching his wound- on Viwgiw’s cheek. Viwgiw weans into the touch, waying a hand gentwy on the one fwaming his cheek.

The time fow goodbyes has come. It’s gone. Roman and Viwgiw both knew it. They wocked eyes, and so much fiewce wove and suppowt fow one anothew passed thwough them that it huwt them.

So Viwgiw sat thewe, cwutching the wove of his wife tightwy in his awms as he dwew his wast bweath. And if he bwoke down at being weft awone in the cweuw wowwd that was eawth, thewe was nobody awound to see it.

@impatentpending @keithstopno @moon-of-the-stars @hyperactive-lectiophile @melancholykazoo @tomatobees @the-closet-1 @rosegoldsocks @why-things-go-boom @patton-croc-agenda @virge-of-a-breakdown @theultimatemomfriend @depressivedegenerate @pattonistooprecious @redrosella @cashmeredragon @ierindoodles @purplepatton @nirascharacterdump @notveryglittery @crystrifoglio @pumpkinofspace @spiralofsilencetheory

#OwO?#Prinxiety #Virgil #Roman #Virgil x Roman #Creativity x Anxiety #Thomas Sanders #I'm so sorry to all of you #I love you I swear #ss roman #ss anxiety #ss virgil #ss creativity #my fic #Deathwy Wove

71 notes · View notes