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Toad, Norman MacCaig

Published in The Poems of Norman MacCaig (Birlinn, 2011)

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Not to be a Jackles defender bc I am not going to be a keyboard warrior for the rich actor man or claim to know what goes on in his head, but I truly don't understand people being actually mad about jackles dodging talking about Dean's feelings regarding Cas' confession. Like yes, you can read it as "Jackles doesn't think Dean reciprocates and is just trying to fence ride about it and not make anyone mad" but also like. guys. the man so OBVIOUSLY wants another season of supernatural to continue deans story. and there's been so much talk about it recently.

If he really does think Dean reciprocates, why the fuck would he spoil it at a random con?? Why would he spoil what could be a major plot point in the revival? Or make a promise about it that he may not be able to keep due to network interference? He told us that Dean KNOWS what Cas' confession was, and that his love for Dean was TEXT not subtext. He told us that CAS' feelings don't need to be resolved. Idk about you guys but this... it's not a nothing answer to me. It's carefully worded and thought out. To me, these are some pretty big pieces of what, for Jackles, a continuation of their story would look like. He's not closing the door, he's keeping it open

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*looks up at you with the biggest wettest eyes and asks you very nicey if I can please please please please please bite the shit out of your hands and fingers

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i am being hunted by a persistence predator called the consequences of my actions

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based on one of my fave gifs on whatsapp :')

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when the fandom is so small that everybody knows everybody

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When ogres travel, they do so in human shape.

They hate doing this. They think it’s beneath them. But they do it anyway.

The Vicomte Graoul de Saucisson – and this is another thing about ogres. Ogres as a species are nobility. There is no such thing as a low-born ogre. There is always room in the ogrish peerage for another vicomte, another prince, another branch to tie to the rotted tree – strode up to the chateau in human shape. The roses in the garden shivered as he passed by. The huge, high doors opened by themselves and he walked through them without a shift in his stride.

When the doors slammed shut behind him, he moved to shrug the shape off his shoulders like a coat.

Then he saw the woman.

He froze. He stared. She stared back.

He slowly pulled the shape back on. “Who are you?” he asked.

She looked mildly appalled. “Who are you?” she asked. “What are you doing in my home?”

“Your home? This is–” He stopped. He reconsidered. “I am the Vicomte de Saucisson,” he said. “I’m looking for the Marquis de Pamplemousse. He is a… colleague of mine.”

“Oh,” she said. She could’ve looked more abashed. “I’m sorry, monsieur, he’s never mentioned you before. You must be here to share your congratulations, of course, I can fetch him right away.”

“He’s never mentioned you either,” the vicomte did not say. “Of course,” he said. “Congratulations. What about?”

She looked surprised. “Have you not heard? Monsieur, the curse on my husband has been lifted.”

He stared. His lips started to form the words “What curse,” and then there was a sound like a horse falling down a set of stairs and a man he had never seen before wearing the marquis’s clothes came barrelling down the hall.

“Vicomte!” said the man with the marquis’s voice. “My human friend! The curse has been lifted, and I am a human once again!”

He was slightly out of breath when he reached the woman. He clasped her arm and grinned at him with manic desperation. “This is wonderful news! You must be here to share your congratulations!”

“Lie like hell,” said the man’s eyes.

The vicomte stared. “Oh!” he said. “My – human friend! Human once again! Words fail me. After all these–” (there was the slightest hesitation) “–years?”

The woman put her head at an angle and narrowed her eyes at him.

The man walked up, still grinning like a rictus chimpanzee, and clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, of course! Darling, me and the vicomte are going to have a manly one-on-one conversation while he shares his congratulations, as we human men are wont to do.” And then with a strength that could only be ogrish, the marquis pulled the vicomte by the shoulder down the hall and into a drawing room.

When the bolt of the lock clicked into place behind them, the man wearing the marquis’s clothes visibly sagged.

“What the hell,” said the vicomte.

“You should’ve sent word ahead that you'd be coming today.”

“I never do.” He gesticulated and tried to conjure a single question out of the swarm buzzing in his brain. “What the hell is going on? Who was that? Why are you pretending to be human? What curse are we talking about?”

The marquis groaned and crumpled into a chair. As he did he shifted out of human shape, clothes magically tailoring themselves to contain his ogrish form. He looked a bit like a moose crossed with a wolf.

“I had a moment of weakness.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a stroke?”

“I got married.”

“And that’s another thing–”

“Graoul, please.” He sighed and put his face in his talons. “Last winter a merchant broke into my home. He stole one of my roses, and in exchange I asked him to send me one of his daughters to be my bride.”

The vicomte nodded. This at least was a sacred and recognizable ogrish custom, and he did like to see the old ways in practice.

“And it was fine! It was perfectly lovely. She’s a wonderful woman, but one night I decided to put on a human shape to change things up in the bedroom, and she lost her mind! Started talking about how I was clearly an enchanted prince and that her love for me must’ve broken some curse and turned me human again! I had no idea how to tell her otherwise, and now I’ve done it for too long to back out.”

The vicomte stared. “Sorry,” he said. “You decided to turn into a human to spice things up in the bedroom, and that was the face you chose?”

The marquis growled. “If I knew I was going to be wearing it for the rest of my life I would’ve gone with something better.”

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Damian is still somehow shocked to realize that most people know about his crush on Jon.

Commission Info / Kofi

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why must we network. isn't my kindness and willingness to try to be better everyday enough?

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it literally HAS to be okay to choose to be fat in order for fat liberation to mean anything at all tbh

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This is the End Goal of Capitalism

I have had strong visions of the need for a specifically geriatric care orientated fast response team for evictions,.

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sometimes i remember that 3 people i went to high school with died of a fentanyl overdose all on the same night and because i didnt really know any of them that well ive always had this "huh. it feels weird that that happened and that it never ruined my day" feeling about it. like terrible that happened but i never spoke to any of them, i only had one same class with one of them.

sometimes i also remember that another guy i went to high school with flew to the states to try to overthrow a government that wasnt even his own on january 6th. And that two other kids ended up in jail 2 months after we graduated and another ended up in prison for distribution of cp 2 years later. My graduating class was 22 people bro we didnt even go to some sketchy outreach school we went to a private international IB academy (im not rich i went for free because my parents are teachers there) like what was actually wrong with the class of 2016 because no other group before or after ours was like that. I once ended up in a rich kid slap fight because i told one of the girls that we are not spending 700 of our prom budget on BALLOONS

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Kid reported his father missing

Police torture him into making him confess to killing his father

Father is alive and well

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The olm is an exclusively subterranean and underwater species, and as such it's difficult to make field observations. Individuals in captivity have been observed to live up to 68 years, and in the wild they may have a life expectancy of over 100 years. ©