#{LORD BACON... I AM DEAD}

[tarnishedxknight]

Mantis shook her head reassuringly when Basch apologized. “No, it is okay.” That was a lie. “It is not your fault.” That was true. “After everything this world and many others have gone through, things no longer really end well for anyone, do they?” That was… what was that? She wasn’t sure if that was a lie or a truth, but she knew the universe had been changed, for the worse, forever. People would struggle to recover from this for many, many generations. No one would ever be overwhelmed with joy again, and if they were, it was an illusion; she had been overjoyed just now, and reality slapped her in the face so hard she saw stars. It served her right for clinging to the hope that life could be anything other than all the death and misery Thanos brought.

She listened when he said he knew the pain of grief and hope. The empath shook her head again. “You do not need to apologize, really. You did not hurt me, my own expectations did. It is not your fault… I am sorry you are familiar with that kind of pain, too.” As full of pain as she was, Mantis felt she had been lucky. She had been frozen in time for five years, missing all the destruction those who were left alive had to face. All the Guardians had been gone except for Rocket and Nebula. But then, they all came back… except for Gamora. They had a second chance at life and she didn’t. Mantis often cried herself to sleep thinking about it. Her friend deserved better.

With a small sigh, Mantis wrung her hands, looking down before her eyes widened when Basch asked what lands the legendary Star-Lord ruled. What? She tried to answer it the best she could. “Um… well, he is from the land of Missouri, but he does not live there. I am not sure if it counts as land, but we reside in Knowhere… and ships Benatar and Bowie. He owns a Zune, too, but we all use it. You know, to make life more bearable, listen to music, dance…” she explained, pretending to know what a Zune was, even though she knew nothing about it other than it was useful to play songs. “Do not worry! I should be able to find Kevin Bacon myself. Thank you.” Things were relatively easy when you could extract information from people’s heads. Her curiosity was sparked after he said he was not native to this land, however. “Where are you from? If you do not mind me asking.” She wasn’t overly familiar with Earth and its places, and to be fair, neither was Quill, since he was eight years old when he left. But she noticed Basch spoke and behaved in a way that was different from other Terrans, so she wasn’t too surprised upon learning the place was new for him. She also wondered if he had been turned to dust and if he felt as left behind as she did. As half of all life did.

(Omg yeah IW is hard to watch. The symbolism in Loki’s death is so well done though; he dies with blue skin because he can’t breathe and red eyes because they’re bleeding, and that’s his true form, blue skin and red eyes. I didn’t notice until his mun pointed it out to me and I was like OHH SHI- I love symbolism. But yeah, FrostBug works? Two green-wearing, dark-haired people with mind manipulation skills, raised away from their species by gods who didn’t really love them, and with himbo brothers. And despite all these parallels they can’t escape the ‘opposites attract’ dynamic XD And YEEES, it’s so cool when your interpretation is appreciated. You’ve told me once or twice that my Mantis is canon for you and it’s so gratifying <3 I would argue that any Mantis written by anyone anywhere is good. It’s Mantis.)

__________

{Yeah... Loki’s death was rough. I don’t dislike him, but he’s not a favorite of mine... and it still hit so hard, so I can only imagine actual fans of him, oh man. And I didn’t think about the symbolism but now I’ll never be able to unsee it, heh. I also never considered FrostBug before you mentioned it, but I’m so here for it. Add it to my list of never-happened ships that I love, haha. And yes, I stan your Mantis, always. <3 But I agree, the world needs more Mantis in general. I haven’t seen most things she’s in, but the moment she said, “Kick names, take ass” in IW, I FELL IN LOVE WITH HER COMPLETELY. XD I actually gigglesnorted and I loved it. }

“Whether or not 'tis my fault, I am nevertheless... truly sorry,” Basch said sincerely. As Mantis told him that things rarely ended well for anyone nowadays, his eyes fell. “Aye... they seldom do...” he lamented. “I was... not awake when the warlord Thanos brought about his devastating cull upon this world. When I awoke, the people of this time were already struggling to cope with the long-term effects of it, and in truth, of what was done to reverse it as well. The reversal was not perfect, as I understand...” His words were very gentle, respectful, for he wondered if she had lost someone very important to her who had not been returned. It was just a sense he got from her.

He understood, of course, that feeling of disappointment, of one’s stomach dropping so fast they felt ill, to hear that what was lost could never be regained. Basch had lost everyone and everything dear to him, his entire world, his way of life, his identity, his purpose... so he understood how deep the scars that loss carved into a person’s soul could be. “Hope is still worth having,” he said for it was something he believed in fully. Hope and love were Basch’s religion, and no amount of times they had both slapped him in the face would ever shake his faith in them. They were worth believing in. They were. “Even as painful as it is, hope is what keeps the soul alive in times of strife. The pain we feel when hopes are dashed... is only love, denied. And love is never wrong,” he offered, attempting to comfort her. “I take comfort in that, whenever hope causes me pain... for I would not feel such pain if I had not first loved.”

“Alas, I am unfamiliar with the lands of Missouri and Knowhere,” Basch replied, “and I do not know what a Zune is either. Forgive me, I am very much unfamiliar with contemporary cultures and geographic locations. But I do wish you luck in your search for Lord Bacon, and I am sorry I could not be of greater help to you.” He thought she was about to leave, and so he was prepared to wish her well and continue on with his day, when she asked him where he was from. Basch was not certain how to answer that. He knew any answer he might give would only stir up more questions in his mind, but since he had no qualms about answering them...

“I was born in the Republic of Landis, but I lived the majority of my life in the Kingdom of Dalmasca,” he replied. “Both... perished some five thousand years ago.” Or so he’d been told. He’d lived through the destruction of Landis, but the fate of Dalmasca... that he’d found out from his brother, who was an immortal revenant and had lived through all the years that Basch had been in magical slumber. “Magic... caused me to be frozen in time, until recently. I now serve as an Avenger.” He was not certain if any of that would make sense to her since they seemed to be from very different walks of life as far as places and people they knew, but he was truthful nonetheless. He had no reason to lie. “All I have known, many I loved... all lost to antiquity. Gone.” That last word was whispered, emotional. “I may not have experienced the devastation that Thanos brought about, but I understand staggering loss. I live with it each day. So when I say that I am sorry, it is with great understanding and deep commiseration that I say it.”

[danikamariewrites]

The Happiest Day

Bat boys x reader

A/n: I can't believe @polyacotarweek is almost over. I know I'm late for celebration but I wanted to make sure I got out what I wnated to say. I wrote this one because I've never really liked my birthday but in the last few years I've started to enjoy celebrating. I didn't have anyone I liked celebrating with (minus my immediate fam) until college. When people really love you and want to celebrate with you that's what makes the day special in my opinion.

Warnings: none

Another year another century started for you. Today marks your 400th year and Cauldron did you not want to celebrate. Not that you didn’t like your birthday. Quite the opposite actually. You love having a day where you get to do all the things you love. But when it’s just you. 

At some point in your youth your family started celebrating multiple birthdays together. The day no longer felt special. When you were old enough you started doing your own thing. 

Having a calm afternoon to yourself, treating yourself to nice things just felt right. Of course that semi-stopped when you met your mates. Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel always made you feel special and your birthday was no exception. 

Stretching and rolling around the soft sheets you reach out for your mates only to be met with their cold pillows. Your fingers brushed over a note against Rhys’s spot. Your name was written in his elegant handwriting on the outside. Opening the parchment it read, Happy Birthday darling! We’re sorry we aren’t there to kiss you and hold you on our favorite day but you will see why later. We love you very much y/n. Enjoy breakfast in bed. 

Putting the note down on the bedside table a tray appeared. A small vase with Evening Primrose sat in the corner. Chocolate croissants, fruit, toast, and bacon were laid out on beautiful blue and white plates. 

You decided to enjoy breakfast, choosing not to dwell on the giant party your mates are putting together for you.

—

Mor knew exactly where to find her cousin this morning. Entering the grand ballroom of the House of Wind Mor weaved between fae carrying large flower arrangements and party decor. She shook her head, blonde waves bouncing around her shoulders. 

Rifling through the stack of papers in her hand she picks out the one Rhys needs to sign. Looking around the room Mor spots Rhys in the middle with the party planner. He was pointing animatedly as Cass and Az lifted the heavy stuff for the decorators. Mor cleared her throat once she was behind her cousin making him slightly jump. 

Once he faced her, Mor gave Rhys a shit eating grin. “Excuse us, I just need the High Lord a moment.” The party planner gave a bow of her head, scurrying off to go perfect something else. “Cousin,” Rhys sighed, “what can I do for you, I am very busy.” Mor hands him the papers and a pen for his signature. As Rhys read through them Mor looked around the ballroom, truly taking in the lengths the males will go to celebrate you. 

Mor’s brows furrowed as she thought back to your last wine night. If she recalled correctly you hated celebrating your birthday with a huge party. “Here,” Rhys shoved the papers back into her arms. Rhys began to walk to the banquet table and Mor followed. “Does y/n like these parties? All seems a bit, ya know…much.” 

Rhys stops dead in his tracks slowly turning to face his cousin again. “Of course she likes the parties. Why would you ask that?” Mor’s eyes go wide along with that stupid smile she’s still wearing. “Oh, you have no clue do you.” 

Cass and Az have now joined the conversation. Confused looks pull at their features which are bringing Mor so much joy. The males look at each other, having a silent conversation. “Mother above you three are thick in the head.” Cassian waves his hands urging Mor to tell them. To stop teasing them with this secret information she’s holding over their heads. 

“She doesn’t like big parties. Have you ever wondered where she goes during the day on her birthday? Why has she only asked for a party with the family?” Their faces drop as the realization hits them like a ton of bricks. “Excuse me,” Rhys murmurs, quickly turning on his heel to tell the party planner to stop everything. Mor let out a triumphant hum, leaving the other two glued to the floor.  

—

On your way to the kitchen you found the house oddly quiet. Usually you could hear the hustle and bustle from the ballroom. People hurrying through the kitchen and foyer, cooking and setting up decorations for the party Rhys insists on throwing you every year. But nothing. Odd for eleven in the morning.

Normally you take the day to yourself to mentally prepare for the large party in the evening. You never liked big events or being the center of attention. It was never fun to be used by your people as a reason to climb a social ladder or gorg themselves on food and alcohol Rhys provided. 

Not that you would ever tell your mates this but you have shed a few tears after putting on your gown. Eventually you pull yourself together. Putting on a smile to look ready to celebrate.   

Shyly poking your head in the kitchen you find it empty. Your brow furrows as you place the breakfast tray in the sink. “Rhys,” you reach out to him in your mind. “Yes, darling.” His voice a purr in your head. “Where is everyone?” “We’re waiting for you in the living room.” You could hear the smile in his voice. You smirked, something told you your mates are up to something. 

You found them in various states of excited and nervous. Cassian was pacing while Rhys and Azriel sit in large arm chairs conversing quietly. Clearing your throat the three perk up, smiles plastered on their lips. Cassian made it to you first, pulling you into a bone crushing hug, “Happy birthday, sweet pea.” He pulls away from you to kiss all over your face leaving you giggling. 

Azriel pulled you to his chest next then into a searing kiss. “Happy birthday, princess. How was your breakfast?” “Delicious.” 

Rhys held your hands, resting his forehead against yours, leaving a soft kiss on your lips. “You look like you want to ask something, darling.” You exhale a little. Not wanting to seem greedy but you needed to know. “No, I was just expecting the house to seem…busier.”

Rhys hummed, “Yes, you have Mor to thank for that.” Your cheeks turn red from the shame of your friend speaking up for you. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Azriel asked softly. Letting out a sigh you look down to avoid eye contact. “You seemed so happy having the party and I didn’t want to upset you.” After a few long moments of silence you feel Cassian’s hands gently grip your chin, tilting your head to look at them. Frowns replacing their smiles. 

“You could never upset us y/n.” Smiling at them you feel happy tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Your mates pull you into a group hug, sending pulses of love down the bond. Letting go Cass ruffles your hair. "No more tears today." He says.

"We have the whole day planned," Rhys starts, "we're going to go to all your favorite shops and then have a nice relaxing night in. Az will cook dinner and we can do whatever you want." Your face lights up at the thought of having your mates with you, doing your favorite things on your day is all you've wanted.

[one-steve-with-cheese-to-go]

Lord of the Abridged

Frodo - I live with my weird uncle

Sam - I want to pick Rosie’s cotton

Bilbo - I hate my home and everyone in it

Gandalf - Fireworks

Hobbits - We love you Bilbo

Bilbo - I’m out

Gandalf - Bilbo give up your ring

Bilbo - I want my ring

Gandalf - Please

Bilbo - Okay

Frodo - I no longer live with my weird uncle

Gandalf - Omg Bilbo’s ring is evil

Frodo - Take the ring

Gandalf - Nose goes

Frodo - Dang

Gandalf - Bilbo’s ring is evil

Saruman - Let’s make a pact with the devil

Gandalf - Wtf no

Saruman - PAIN!

Frodo - I have the ring

Nazgul - Stabby stabby

Frodo - *Getting stabbed noises*

Aragorn - Oh shit

Sam - Oh shit

Merry - Oh shit

Pippin - Nice crispy bacon

Arwen - Gimme the hobbit

Aragorn - Okay

Nazgul - Gimme the hobbit

Arwen - Water horses

Nazgul - What?

Water horses - Hello

Nazgul - *Drowning noises*

Gandalf - The ring will be safe in Rivendell

Frodo - The ring will be safe in Rivendell

Elrond - The ring cannot stay in Rivendell

Boromir - Gimme the ring

Elrond - The ring must be destroyed

Boromir - Gimme the ring.

Legolas - Aragorn is the true king

Aragorn - Sit your pointy ears down

Boromir - Gimme the ring!

Frodo - I will take the ring

Elrond - I will give this small child thing the ring

Council - …

Gimli - I’m racist

Gandalf - We’re going mountain climbing

Gimli - Let’s take the tunnels

Gandalf - No. I will not elaborate.

Birds - Birds

Gandalf - We’re going extreme mountain climbing

Saruman - PAIN!

Frodo - Hey let’s take the tunnels

Gandalf - Good idea

Gimli - Wtf

Gandalf - Let us in

Secret Door - No

Frodo - We’re totally friends

Secret Door - Oh cool

Gimli - Omg my friends are dead

Squid monster - Ara ara

Frodo - Oh shit

Sam - Oh shit

Aragorn - Oh shit

Pippin - Nice crispy bacon

Gimli - My family is dead

Pippin - Lol bucket

Orcs - We heard a bucket

Aragorn - Oh shit

Legolas - Oh shit

Troll - Stabby stabby

Frodo - *Getting stabbed noises*

Sam - Oh shit

Merry - Oh shit

Pippin - I lost my bucket

Frodo - Just kidding

Gimli - Mithril

Gandalf - Mithrilled

Orcs - Die

Balrog - Die

Gandalf - YOU SHALL NOT PASS!

Balrog - Let’s go spelunking

Gandalf - I’ve fallen and I can’t get up

Frodo - Oh shit

Aragorn - Oh shit

Sam - Oh shit

Pippin - Lol

Galadriel - I am somehow more frightening than the literal devil in this movie

Boromir - *freaking out*

Aragorn - *freaking out*

Legolas - *freaking out*

Frodo - I completely trust this person

Galadriel - I almost became the main villain in this movie but it’s cool.

Boromir - Gimme the ring

Frodo - No

Boromir - Gimme the ring

Frodo - No

Boromir - Please gimme the ring

Frodo - No

Boromir - I’ll take the ring

Frodo - I’m out

Orcs - Sup

Boromir - gimme the-

Orcs - Arrow

Boromir - I am defeated

Merry - Oh shit

Pippin - *imitates a backpack*

Frodo - I’m out

Sam - I will literally drown rather than leave you

Frodo - oeugh Sam!

Legolas - They’re taking the hobbits to Isengard!

Gimli - I give up

Aragorn - giving up is for losers

Gimli - I’m not a loser

Fellowship -…

Gimli - But I am still racist

Credits

[fandomnerd9602]

With Feeling

Fem!Star Lord/Penny Quill x Reader

Art found here

Your Star Lady’s birthday was fast approaching and the other Guardians weren’t much help. You would not be going to them for advice ever again. You got the following advice from them:

“Present her with the head of your enemy“ Drax chimed in. “I proposed to my wife with that one”

“I really don’t care” Nebula said.

“Want me to bomb a moon so it says P+Y/N 4Ever?” Rocket asked. Lylla smacked him upside the head for that one. “What?!”

“Get a gift from the heart” Lylla told you. “Penny loves you for you”

“I am Groot” Groot said. Surprisingly that was the best advice.

You searched the junk shops on all of Knowhere. Every single one. It took some extreme searching but you found the perfect gift for Penny Quill. You slaved away at it for weeks, making sure that Penny didn’t suspect a thing.

Then came her big day. Penny awoke in her little apartment on Knowhere, your presence bringing a smile to her face as she woke up.

“Hey baby” she lets out a little giggle.

“Hey my Star Lady” you pepper her face with kisses. “Happy birthday”

“Is it my birthday? I don’t feel any wiser”

“Well I’m the wisest of the two of us” you smirk, earning a light punch from your lady.

Her beach blonde curls bounce as she jumps on you, playfully punching you and then kissing you. Her giggles fill the air. Penny collapses against your chest, her gentle giggles warming your heart.

“I love you” you whisper

“I love you”

“Come on,” you try to get up, “the team’s waiting”

You guide Penny out the center of Knowhere, the entire place decorated with 70s and 80s memorabilia. Lylla and Rocket really outdid themselves. Cosmo runs up, jumping around Quill.

“We love Star Lady” the dog exclaims.

Mantis comes out with a cake, “I think Kraglin outdid himself”

“Thanks sis,” Penny gives Mantis a hug. Kraglin gives her a proud smile.

And then came the gifts. Drax presented Penny with his favorite knife and a bag of zarg nuts. Mantis gave Penny a Cheers shirt. Nebula made some upgrades to the Bowie. Rocket and Lylla upgraded Penny’s helmet and rocket boots. Groot brought Penny a homemade sculpture of her and you helping to raise Groot when he was only a potted plant. Cosmo left a dead Orlani at Penny’s feet. And finally came you.

Your hard work was finally about to pay off. You pull out a small box and hand it to Penny.

Penny unwrapped the box and saw it. Your labor of love: a new Walkman and a trio of cassette tapes. A copy of Awesome Mix Vol. 1 and 2. And one of your own.

“C-Cosmic Mix Vol 1?” Penny looks to you with tears in her eyes.

“You’re an out of this world girl. Kraglin filled me in on the songs from volume 1.” You explain as you hook up the Walkman with your cosmic mix to the sound system. Penny clicks the play button.

The song begins to play and Penny can’t help but smile. It doesn’t take long for all of Knowhere to join in dancing.

You and Penny sway to the beat of the song. Penny wraps her arms around your neck.

“You’re the only one I want to listen to music with” she gives you a kiss.

“Happy birthday, my Star Lady”

Drax surpringly smiles, “I still think we could’ve gone to Earth and kidnap this warrior Ralph Macchio. She always spoke of him”

“Drax no!!” Mantis practically yells back. “Not after the time with Kevin Bacon!!”

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Who Let Us Have A Group Chat?

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,424

Summary: The mystery of the disappearing plushie.

Warnings: Cursing, Violence (mentioned), Panic Attacks (mentioned), Death (mentioned), Caps, Therapy (because they all need it), Fighting (mentioned only), Age Regression, Give Moon His Bagel 2k23, let me know if I should add anything else.

Chapter 3: Who Stole The Plushie?

3:40am Who Took My Hat?

Eclipse: Can I PLEASE have Element back?

Blood Moon: For the last time, I don’t have Element!

Harvest Moon: Eclipse, we don’t know where Element is, please just exist without her for like an hour so we can find her.

Eclipse: I’m asking nicely! I know someone took her! I want her back!

Heliosphere: Eclipse, nobody has Element.

Bolide: I don’t even know what that is but no, I don’t have it.

Lunar: Do I have to kick all of your asses this morning or are you going to shut up?

Kill Code: Sons, what’s wrong?

Moon: Why are you all up at 4 in the morning?

Sun: djfnskdofnf

Lunar: Why are you up at 4 in the morning, Moon, ignoring your panic attacks again?

Moon: …yes

Lunar: Get the hell in here.

Kill Code: Sons, what happened?

Eclipse: I can’t find Element.

Kill Code: Which one of you took Element?

Blood Moon: None of us did. Bo doesn’t even know what Element is.

Kill Code: Go ahead and check that rancid little human.

4:01am Who Took My Hat?

Harvest Moon: elementgettingsquishedtoplushydeath.jpg

Harvest Moon: Trash Man took her and hid her in the basement. Bloody is ripping him limb from limb again.

Kill Code: Good to know your brother will still commit murder for his siblings on occasion. Now, get some sleep, my children.

Harvest Moon: Eclipse is already asleep. Fell asleep right after the picture.

Kill Code: Good, take his lead.

Sun: sola!!@:!&”/389bckkowoxb;?£{*•|?=**#%7739  f

8:45am Who Took My Hat?

Sun: Why does he have a stuffed bear?

Kill Code: He wanted one.

Moon: Sun, you can’t just ask people why they have a plushie.

Sun: It’s weird!

Lunar: I own plushies. Am I weird?

Sun: That’s different, you don’t refuse to sleep if you don’t have them.

Lunar: Yes I do, I make sure they’re all there before I go to bed and designate one for the night to sleep with. My plushies get very cared for. I don't go to sleep unless I can find them all.

Moon: Sun, I still sleep with that plush possum. I still can’t sleep without Puck.

Kill Code: Sun, I’ve seen that you have plushies in your room.

Sun: Listen, this is different.

Moon: Because it’s Eclipse?

Sun: Fine, yes. Because it’s Eclipse.

Lunar: To be very fair, Eclipse has had Element since me and him took over. Maybe before that even. Element has been with him longer than I have. He literally can’t sleep without her. He used one of Moon’s old machines that makes her glow in the dark and he cried the one time we couldn’t find her.

Moon: See? He clearly has an emotional attachment to Element. Ain’t nothing wrong with that. Same as me and Puck or Lunar and Lord Luminescence the Eleventh of Love Kingdom.

Lunar: Just call him Lumi.

Moon: But the full name is so much better.

Lunar: I call him Lumi.

Moon: Alas

Eclipse: Element is weird?

Moon: No, she isn’t.

Eclipse: Sunny said so.

Kill Code: Son, having Element isn’t weird, she’s healthy for you.

Bolide: Father Alert, Father Alert! We need Dad, he’s crying!

Kill Code: Pay in coffee?

Moon: And a bagel. And coffee cake. For disturbing my late-night panic attack party with Puck last night.

Kill Code: Consider it done.

Moon: Bacon and egg bagel, no cheese, can’t eat dairy.

Kill Code: You severely need to fix our lactose intolerance, Moon.

Moon: Why? I hate dairy anyway.

Kill Code: You cried over not being able to eat ice cream yesterday because you couldn’t find any that were nondairy.

Moon: Leave my mental breakdown out of this.

Kill Code: No, talk about your damn issues.

Moon: Maybe once I’m dead and haunting my brothers, maybe then I’ll talk about my mental health issues.

Harvest Moon: Brother is happy once again.

Kill Code: Moon, I will buy you nondairy ice cream if you just talk about your mental health, please.

Sun: I want to talk about my mental health!

Kill Code: We know, Sun.

Sun: I’m sad.

Kill Code: We know, Sun. I’m scheduling both of you therapy appointments.

Moon: You are not scheduling me therapy.

Kill Code: Then why am I talking to a therapist’s office right now?

Moon: DO NOT

Kill Code: Your therapy is scheduled. I’m not telling you when.

Moon: Gooooooooooood DAMMIT

Kill Code: Sun, go to this address today at five.

Kill Code has dropped a location

Kill Code: Same therapy office as Eclipse’s therapist.

Lunar: Wait, that’s my therapist’s office.

Eclipse: Do you go to Dr. Leeson?

Lunar: No, Dr. Marin

Eclipse: Lunar, Dr. Leeson and Dr. Marin are married.

Lunar: Oh. Do you think they talk about us?

Eclipse: Absolutely. Probably not with names or anything but probably yeah. Probably ask each other how they got the abused and abuser in their offices.

Lunar: What time is your therapy usually at?

Eclipse: Mondays at ten in the morning.

Lunar: See, that’s why we miss each other. I’m Wednesdays at one.

Eclipse: Which means they probably talk about us on Thursdays like ‘you hear the trauma of the week from the those brothers?’

Lunar: ‘yeah, the younger one said he hid in playhouses’

Eclipse: ‘the older one says he cries more than he laughs. he hides in closets. I can’t figure out why for the life of me.’

Blood Moon: I visit Dr. Pierce every couple weeks because Dad wants “mental health checks”

Harvest Moon: Dr. Pierce is scared of you.

Blood Moon: Hey, Dr. Ryans is scared of you too.

Harvest Moon: Dr. Ryans is scared of the things I tell him.

Heliosphere: Why are me and Bo not in therapy?

Kill Code: Do you two have anything therapy-worthy?

Bolide: Not really, no.

Kill Code: That’s why.

Moon: Why can’t I know when my therapy is?

Kill Code: You’ll evade it.

Moon: You make a good point, can’t argue with that.

Sun: I’ll bite, why does Eclipse have a plushie?

Eclipse: Because I love her?

Sun: Yes, but why??

Eclipse: Because she loves me??

Sun: Plushies are incapable of love.

Moon: Sun

Eclipse: Element is my best friend. Ellie has loved me since I found her and I loved her back.

Sun: Plushies aren’t sentient, Eclipse. She doesn’t love you.

Blood Moon: Sun man

Eclipse: She does love me!

Sun: No she doesn’t, Eclipse.

Harvest Moon: Sunny

Kill Code: Sun.

Eclipse: Well at least Element has never abandoned me like everyone else!

Harvest Moon: Big drop.

Kill Code: Sunrise, shut up.

Sun: What?

Blood Moon: LET ME FIGHT THE SUN

Heliosphere: Sun, that was mean

Bolide: Yeah, Sunny.

Sun: What even happened? I just told him plushies can’t love?

Moon: Sun, you done fucked up.

Sun: Why?

Moon: How do I put this delicately so you don’t get upset in therapy later and the therapists don't figure out they have a fifth sibling?

Moon: Um…know how a couple of the teenagers need to be in the play area when they’re in the daycare because they regress?

Sun: Yes, Rei and Adalyn.

Moon: And you understand regression?

Sun: Obviously.

Sun: oh

Sun: OH FUCK ECLIPSE IM SORRY

Kill Code: He says thank you.

Harvest Moon: No he said ‘tank ooo sunny’

Sun: Oh my god

Lunar: I want this recorded, this has to be adorable. Finally a chance to see him vulnerable.

Kill Code: eclipsebeingadorable.vid

[video transcription] Kill Code: Come on, son, can you say hi to your brothers?

Eclipse: I love Babas.

Kill Code: Can you say hi to Sun and Lunar?

Eclipse: I love you Sunny and LuLu!

Kill Code: Gonna show them Element?

Eclipse: I gots Ellie! Mine!

Kill Code: Yes she is yours, isn’t she? The she takes care of you when nobody else is home, right?

Eclipse: Bee! Paci! Paci! Das mine!

[Blood Moon shows up behind Eclipse lightly biting an orange and black paci’s black lanyard with pumpkins on it]

Blood Moon: Oh, is it now?

Eclipse: *giggling* Das mine!

Blood Moon: Oh okay, fine, but only because you’re so cute.

[Blood Moon hands him the pacifier and rests his head on Eclipse’s shoulder while Eclipse happily puts his paci in his mouth and leans against him]

Kill Code: All better now, son?

Eclipse: I bettew.

Kill Code: Okay, good. [transcription end]

Lunar: God, why is that cute?

Sun: This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen?

Moon: Yep, it’s cute to witness. Cute enough to wait for my bagel.

Kill Code: Shit, I forgot your fucking bagel.

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Theon I (Theon VII) [Chapter 51]

Theon I otherwise known as A Ghost in Winterfell Part II.

If you haven't already, I strongly recommend reading that post before this one.

So we're all on the same page, I will be operating under the assumption that Theon is both the Hooded Man and the ghost in Winterfell.

"The storm will end today," one of the surviving stableboys was insisting loudly. "Why, it isn't even winter." Theon would have laughed if he had dared. He remembered tales Old Nan had told them of storms that raged for forty days and forty nights, for a year, for ten years … storms that buried castles and cities and whole kingdoms under a hundred feet of snow.

He's getting closer and closer to calling someone a sweet summer child.

+.+.+

He sat in the back of the Great Hall, not far from the horses, watching Abel, Rowan, and a mousy brown-haired washerwoman called Squirrel attack slabs of stale brown bread fried in bacon grease. 

Why is there an Arya wildling?

+.+.+

Roose Bolton entered, pale-eyed and yawning, accompanied by his plump and pregnant wife, Fat Walda. 

New developments.

+.+.+

"Lord Stannis is outside the walls, and not far by the sound of it. All we need do is reach him." Abel's fingers danced across the strings of his lute. The singer's beard was brown, though his long hair had largely gone to grey.

Hair going grey before the beard?

Has George ever met a man.

+.+.+

Up on the dais, Ramsay was arguing with his father. They were too far away for Theon to make out any of the words, but the fear on Fat Walda's round pink face spoke volumes. 

Nothing to worry about, I'm sure.

+.+.+

Theon wondered if he would ever see the Drowned God's watery halls, or if his ghost would linger here at Winterfell. Dead is dead. Better dead than Reek.

Kind of amazed he doesn't consider hell a strong possibility. Lol.

+.+.+

If Abel's scheme went awry, Ramsay would make their dying long and hard. He will flay me from head to heel this time, and no amount of begging will end the anguish. No pain Theon had ever known came close to the agony that Skinner could evoke with a little flensing blade. 

<- Daenerys VIII

I hate this, thought Daenerys Targaryen. How did this happen, that I am drinking and smiling with men I'd sooner flay?

+.+.+

Abel would learn that lesson soon enough. And for what? Jeyne, her name is Jeyne, and her eyes are the wrong color. A mummer playing a part. Lord Bolton knows, and Ramsay, but the rest are blind, even this bloody bard with his sly smiles. The jape is on you, Abel, you and your murdering whores. You'll die for the wrong girl.

Does Mance know? I'll let you decided.

"But you said you saw me twice. When was the other time?"

"When King Robert came to Winterfell to make your father Hand," the King-beyond-the-Wall said lightly.

[...]

The night your father feasted Robert, I sat in the back of his hall on a bench with the other freeriders, listening to Orland of Oldtown play the high harp and sing of dead kings beneath the sea. I betook of your lord father's meat and mead, had a look at Kingslayer and Imp . . . and made passing note of Lord Eddard's children and the wolf pups that ran at their heels. - Jon I, ASOS

+.+.+

He had come this close to telling them the truth when Rowan had delivered him to Abel in the ruins of the Burned Tower, but at the last instant he had held his tongue. The singer seemed intent on making off with the daughter of Eddard Stark. If he knew that Lord Ramsay's bride was but a steward's whelp, well …

A grown ass man living out his Bael the Bard fantasies.

+.+.+

The doors of the Great Hall opened with a crash.

A cold wind came swirling through, and a cloud of ice crystals sparkled blue-white in the air. Through it strode Ser Hosteen Frey, caked with snow to the waist, a body in his arms. 

There's no blood on Ser Hosteen Frey.

+.+.+

Another murder.

Snow slid from Ser Hosteen's cloaks as he stalked toward the high table, his steps ringing against the floor. A dozen Frey knights and men-at-arms entered behind him. One was a boy Theon knew—Big Walder, the little one, fox-faced and skinny as a stick. His chest and arms and cloak were spattered with blood.

Fox-faced Big Walder has splattered blood all over him.

+.+.+

The body in Ser Hosteen's arms sparkled in the torchlight, armored in pink frost. The cold outside had frozen his blood.

"My brother Merrett's son." Hosteen Frey lowered the body to the floor before the dais. "Butchered like a hog and shoved beneath a snowbank. A boy."

Little Walder's blood had frozen due to the cold.

How is there splattered blood all over Big Walder?

"Don't be stupid," his cousin said. "The sons of the first son come before the second son. Ser Ryman is next in line, and then Edwyn and Black Walder and Petyr Pimple. And then Aegon and all his sons."

"Ryman is old too," said Little Walder. "Past forty, I bet. And he has a bad belly. Do you think he'll be lord?"

"I'll be lord. I don't care if he is." - Bran V, ACOK

x

"Did you find your cousins, my lord?"

"No. I never thought we would. They're dead. Lord Wyman had them killed. That's what I would have done if I was him." - Reek III, ADWD

+.+.+

Little Walder, thought Theon. The big one. He glanced at Rowan. There are six of them, he remembered. Any of them could have done this. But the washerwoman felt his eyes. "This was no work of ours," she said.

"Be quiet," Abel warned her.

She's not lying.

As much as I'd love to push a new theory, I think we all know Big Walder is the killer.

+.+.+

Lord Ramsay descended from the dais to the dead boy. His father rose more slowly, pale-eyed, still-faced, solemn. "This was foul work."

Does someone want to remind George that Little Walder was Walda's brother, and she should be reacting to his dead body.

+.+.+

For once Roose Bolton's voice was loud enough to carry. "Where was the body found?"

"Under that ruined keep, my lord," replied Big Walder. "The one with the old gargoyles." The boy's gloves were caked with his cousin's blood. "I told him not to go out alone, but he said he had to find a man who owed him silver."

Sure, repeat it.

Big Walder found the body first thing in the morning. Imagine that.

+.+.+

"What man?" Ramsay demanded. "Give me his name. Point him out to me, boy, and I will make you a cloak of his skin."

"He never said, my lord. Only that he won the coin at dice." The Frey boy hesitated. "It was some White Harbor men who taught dice. I couldn't say which ones, but it was them."

The boy hesitates right before incriminating Wyman Manderly, known antagonizer of House Frey. Nicely done, kid.

+.+.+

"My lord," boomed Hosteen Frey. "We know the man who did this. Killed this boy and all the rest. Not by his own hand, no. He is too fat and craven to do his own killing. But by his word." He turned to Wyman Manderly. "Do you deny it?"

The Lord of White Harbor bit a sausage in half. "I confess …" He wiped the grease from his lips with his sleeve. "… I confess that I know little of this poor boy. Lord Ramsay's squire, was he not? How old was the lad?"

Wyman definitely knew something about the boy, Little Walder was betrothed to Wylla Manderly.

Despite that motive, I don't think there's a single reason to believe Manderly did this.

+.+.+

"Nine, on his last nameday."

"So young," said Wyman Manderly. "Though mayhaps this was a blessing. Had he lived, he would have grown up to be a Frey."

Bwhahahahaha.

And he said mayhaps! Lmfao.

+.+.+

Ser Hosteen Frey ripped his longsword from its scabbard and leapt toward Wyman Manderly. The Lord of White Harbor tried to jerk away, but the tabletop pinned him to his chair. The blade slashed through three of his four chins in a spray of bright red blood.

How did he not die?

+.+.+

Up on the dais, Ramsay was arguing with his father.

x

For once Roose Bolton's voice was loud enough to carry. "Where was the body found?"

x

Lady Walda gave a shriek and clutched at her lord husband's arm. "Stop," Roose Bolton shouted. "Stop this madness." 

Roose just doesn't seem like himself lately. He needs a nap.

+.+.+

"I see you all want blood," the Lord of the Dreadfort said. Maester Rhodry stood beside him, a raven on his arm. The bird's black plumage shone like coal oil in the torchlight. Wet, Theon realized. And in his lordship's hand, a parchment. That will be wet as well. Dark wings, dark words. "Rather than use our swords upon each other, you might try them on Lord Stannis." Lord Bolton unrolled the parchment. 

Arnolf Karstark informing the Boltons of Stannis Baratheon's whereabouts.

"Tell me, then. Where are these two trained to fly?"

Maester Tybald did not answer. Theon Greyjoy kicked his feet feebly, and laughed under his breath. Caught!

"Answer me. If we were to loose these birds, would they return to the Dreadfort?" The king leaned forward. "Or might they fly for Winterfell instead?" - Theon I, TWOW

Too bad Stannis knows they're coming.

+.+.+

"His host lies not three days' ride from here, snowbound and starving, and I for one am tired of waiting on his pleasure. Ser Hosteen, assemble your knights and men-at-arms by the main gates. As you are so eager for battle, you shall strike our first blow. Lord Wyman, gather your White Harbor men by the east gate. They shall go forth as well."

We're saving the Night Lamp theory for Theon I TWOW (How did Theon chapters become harder than Bran's?), but I will say they're walking into a trap.

If the Freys are striking first, hopefully that means Team Manderly avoids falling into a lake.

+.+.+

"Singer," he called, "come sing us something soothing." Abel bowed. "If it please your lordship."

[...]

Rowan grasped Theon's arm. "The bath. It must be now."

He wrenched free of her touch. "By day? We will be seen."

"The snow will hide us. Are you deaf? Bolton is sending forth his swords. We have to reach King Stannis before they do."

"But … Abel …"

"Abel can fend for himself," murmured Squirrel.

Rest in peace, Mance Rayder.

+.+.+

Squirrel slipped away, soft-footed as she always was.

Is she off to kill the queen?

No really, why is there an Arya wildling?

+.+.+

Rowan walked Theon from the hall. Since she and her sisters had found him in the godswood, one of them had dogged his every step, never letting him out of sight. They did not trust him. Why should they? I was Reek before and might be Reek again. Reek, Reek, it rhymes with sneak.

Interesting, because the ghost of Winterfell seems to have stopped killing people.

+.+.+

Outside the snow still fell. The snowmen the squires had built had grown into monstrous giants, ten feet tall and hideously misshapen. 

Someone please meta the evolution of the snowmen.

More snowmen had risen in the yard by the time Theon Greyjoy made his way back. To command the snowy sentinels on the walls, the squires had erected a dozen snowy lords. One was plainly meant to be Lord Manderly; it was the fattest snowman that Theon had ever seen. The one-armed lord could only be Harwood Stout, the snow lady Barbrey Dustin. And the one closest to the door with the beard made of icicles had to be old Whoresbane Umber. - The Turncloak, ADWD

x

Sentries crowded into the guard turrets to warm half-frozen hands over glowing braziers, leaving the wallwalks to the snowy sentinels the squires had thrown up, who grew larger and stranger every night as wind and weather worked their will upon them. Ragged beards of ice grew down the spears clasped in their snowy fists. - A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

+.+.+

Even the godswood was turning white. A film of ice had formed upon the pool beneath the heart tree, and the face carved into its pale trunk had grown a mustache of little icicles. 

Apparently Bran's pulling a Sansa, and speedrunning puberty.

+.+.+

"Winter is coming …"

Rowan gave him a hard look. "You have no right to mouth Lord Eddard's words. Not you. Not ever. After what you did—"

Does someone want to remind George the wildlings do not give a shit about kneelers and their house words.

(Yes, I'm aware of the Rowan Umber theory.)

+.+.+

"You killed a boy as well."

"That was not us. I told you."

"Words are wind." They are no better than me. We're just the same. "You killed the others, why not him? Yellow Dick—"

"—stank as bad as you. A pig of a man."

"And Little Walder was a piglet. Killing him brought the Freys and Manderlys to dagger points, that was cunning, you—"

"Not us." Rowan grabbed him by the throat and shoved him back against the barracks wall, her face an inch from his. "Say it again and I will rip your lying tongue out, kinslayer."

Nothing in this chapter is worthy of an alarm, but I've already established a pattern, lol.

This is more ambiguous than I ever remembered.

Little Walder, thought Theon. The big one. He glanced at Rowan. There are six of them, he remembered. Any of them could have done this. But the washerwoman felt his eyes. "This was no work of ours," she said.

x

"Kill me." There was more despair than defiance in his voice. "Go on. Do me, the way you did the others. Yellow Dick and the rest. It was you."

Holly laughed. "How could it be us? We're women. Teats and cunnies. Here to be fucked, not feared." - A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

The wildlings never admit to killing the other men. They only deny killing a boy; that's not an admission of guilt for the others.

If the wildings did kill the men, and George was content with the reader knowing that, why did he leave room for doubt?

+.+.+

Theon knew he should not goad her. In her own way, this one was as dangerous as Skinner or Damon Dance-for-Me. But he was cold and tired, his head was pounding, he had not slept in days. 

I hear that's bad for your mental health, Theon Durden.

+.+.+

"I have done terrible things … betrayed my own, turned my cloak, ordered the death of men who trusted me … but I am no kinslayer."

"Stark's boys were never brothers to you, aye. We know."

That was true, but it was not what Theon had meant. They were not my blood, but even so, I never harmed them. The two we killed were just some miller's sons. Theon did not want to think about their mother. He had known the miller's wife for years, had even bedded her. Big heavy breasts with wide dark nipples, a sweet mouth, a merry laugh. Joys that I will never taste again.

But there was no use telling Rowan any of that. She would never believe his denials, any more than he believed hers. "There is blood on my hands, but not the blood of brothers," he said wearily. "And I've been punished."

We revisit one of the bigger obstacles of the Theon Durden theory. If Theon is the Hooded Man, why did he call himself a kinslayer?

I admit the lengthy reflection on the miller's wife doesn't look good here, but I truly don't believe Theon is capable of killing children he suspects are his own.

I'll repeat what I said the last chapter. I think Theon subconsciously blames himself for Robb dying. He will call Robb his brother later in this chapter, and express regret over not being by his side.

And Robb. Robb who had been more a brother to Theon than any son born of Balon Greyjoy's loins. Murdered at the Red Wedding, butchered by the Freys. I should have been with him. Where was I? I should have died with him.

+.+.+

Foolish woman. He might well be a broken thing, but Theon still wore a dagger. It would have been a simple thing to slide it out and drive it down between her shoulder blades. That much he was still capable of, missing teeth and broken teeth and all.

We're soon going to learn Theon is capable of more than just stabbing.

+.+.+

Reek might have done it. Would have done it, in hopes it might please Lord Ramsay. These whores meant to steal Ramsay's bride; Reek could not allow that. But the old gods had known him, had called him Theon. Ironborn, I was ironborn, Balon Greyjoy's son and rightful heir to Pyke. The stumps of his fingers itched and twitched, but he kept his dagger in its sheath.

Aww look at Bran subtly influencing the plot.

+.+.+

When Squirrel returned, the other four were with her: gaunt grey-haired Myrtle, Willow Witch-Eye with her long black braid, Frenya of the thick waist and enormous breasts, Holly with her knife. Clad as serving girls in layers of drab grey roughspun, they wore brown woolen cloaks lined with white rabbit fur. No swords, Theon saw. No axes, no hammers, no weapons but knives.

Jeyne will switch outfits with Squirrel.

I will let you decide whether this grey roughspun with a brown cloak meets girl in grey criteria.

+.+.+

"Even if we do get past the guards, how do you mean to get Lady Arya out?"

Holly smiled. "Six women go in, six come out. Who looks at serving girls? We'll dress the Stark girl up as Squirrel."

Theon glanced at Squirrel. They are almost of a size. It might work. "And how does Squirrel get out?"

Of course the Arya wildling will pretend to be Arya.

+.+.+

Squirrel answered for herself. "Out a window, and straight down to the godswood. I was twelve the first time my brother took me raiding south o' your Wall. That's where I got my name. My brother said I looked like a squirrel running up a tree. I've done that Wall six times since, over and back again. I think I can climb down some stone tower."

I don't understand what's happening here. What is with this girl?

+.+.+

They are doing it all wrong. Real serving girls were always teasing the potboys, flirting with the cooks, wheedling a taste of this, a bite of that. Rowan and her scheming sisters did not want to attract notice, but their sullen silence soon had the guards giving them queer looks. "Where's Maisie and Jez and t'other girls?" one asked Theon. "The usual ones."

"Lady Arya was displeased with them," he lied. "Her water was cold before it reached the tub last time."

Maisie Williams was hired August 7th, 2009. ADWD was released July 12, 2011.

I don't think that name is a coincidence, lol. George is cute.

+.+.+

The Frey men wore the badge of the two towers, those from White Harbor displayed merman and trident. They shouldered through the storm in opposite directions and eyed each other warily as they passed, but no swords were drawn. Not here. It may be different out there in the woods.

Please no. This is the one time I don't want any interference from House Manderly.

+.+.+

Theon led the way up the stairs. I have climbed these steps a thousand times before. As a boy he would run up; descending, he would take the steps three at a time, leaping. Once he leapt right into Old Nan and knocked her to the floor. That earned him the worst thrashing he ever had at Winterfell, though it was almost tender compared to the beatings his brothers used to give him back on Pyke. He and Robb had fought many a heroic battle on these steps, slashing at one another with wooden swords. Good training, that; it brought home how hard it was to fight your way up a spiral stair against determined opposition. Ser Rodrik liked to say that one good man could hold a hundred, fighting down.

That was long ago, though. They were all dead now. Jory, old Ser Rodrik, Lord Eddard, Harwin and Hullen, Cayn and Desmond and Fat Tom, Alyn with his dreams of knighthood, Mikken who had given him his first real sword. Even Old Nan, like as not.

NO.

No, okay? No. You're wrong. She was alive in A Feast For Crows! She could still be at the Dreadfort!

She's not dead until I see the body.

+.+.+

No day had dawned inside this room. Shadows covered all. One last log crackled feebly amongst the dying embers in the hearth, and a candle flickered on the table beside a rumpled, empty bed. The girl is gone, Theon thought. She has thrown herself out a window in despair. 

:(

Perhaps I will die too, she told herself, and the thought did not seem so terrible to her. If she flung herself from the window, she could put an end to her suffering, and in the years to come the singers would write songs of her grief. Her body would lie on the stones below, broken and innocent, shaming all those who had betrayed her. Sansa went so far as to cross the bedchamber and throw open the shutters … but then her courage left her, and she ran back to her bed, sobbing. - Sansa VI, AGOT

+.+.+

A tear ran down her cheek. "Tell him, you tell him. I'll do what he wants … whatever he wants … with him or … or with the dog or … please … he doesn't need to cut my feet off, I won't try to run away, not ever, I'll give him sons, I swear it, I swear it …"

Rowan whistled softly. "Gods curse the man."

"I'm a good girl," Jeyne whimpered. "They trained me."

Sorry about sharing that.

I wanted to quickly say I don't think Jeyne being pregnant serves the story at all. I can't stand that theory.

"Roose has trained you well." She left him there. - The Turncloak, ADWD

+.+.+

"Get her up, turncloak." Holly had her knife in hand. "Get her up or I will. We have to go. Get the little cunt up on her feet and shake some courage into her."

Was that necessary?

+.+.+

We are all dead, Theon thought. I told them this was folly, but none of them would listen. Abel had doomed them. All singers were half-mad.

Rhaegar shade!

+.+.+

In songs, the hero always saved the maiden from the monster's castle, but life was not a song, no more than Jeyne was Arya Stark. Her eyes are the wrong color. And there are no heroes here, only whores. Even so, he knelt beside her, pulled down the furs, touched her cheek. "You know me. I'm Theon, you remember. I know you too. I know your name."

In A Song of Ice and Fire, Theon helps save Jeyne.

+.+.+

Theon slipped his hand through hers. The stumps of his lost fingers tingled as he drew the girl to her feet. The wolfskins fell away from her. Underneath them she was naked, her small pale breasts covered with teeth marks. He heard one of the women suck in her breath. 

I apologize again.

It's another Targaryen / Bolton parallel.

The queen had been cloaked and hooded as she climbed inside the royal wheelhouse that would take her down Aegon's High Hill to the waiting ship, but he heard her maids whispering after she was gone. They said the queen looked as if some beast had savaged her, clawing at her thighs and chewing on her breasts. - Jaime II, AFFC

+.+.+

Squirrel had stripped down to her smallclothes, and was rooting through a carved cedar chest in search of something warmer. In the end she settled for one of Lord Ramsay's quilted doublets and a well-worn pair of breeches that flapped about her legs like a ship's sails in a storm.

With Rowan's help, Theon got Jeyne Poole into Squirrel's clothes.

[...]

"I will be right beside you," Theon promised as Squirrel slipped into Lady Arya's bed and pulled the blanket up.

That's the last we'll see of Squirrel.

According to Ramsay she's dead.

If you want Mance Rayder back, come and get him. I have him in a cage for all the north to see, proof of your lies. The cage is cold, but I have made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell. - Jon XIII, ADWD

I guess we'll have to wait and see if Arya wildling is truly dead or managed to escape the castle. My gut tells me she got out. :)

+.+.+

But the guards outside were huddled by the doors, backs turned against the icy wind and blown snow. Even the serjeant did not spare them more than a quick glance. Theon felt a stab of pity for him and his men. Ramsay would flay them all when he learned his bride was gone, and what he would do to Grunt and Sour Alyn did not bear thinking about.

+.+.+

The icy trenches rose around them, knee high, then waist high, then higher than their heads. They were in the heart of Winterfell with the castle all around them, but no sign of it could be seen. They might have easily been lost amidst the Land of Always Winter, a thousand leagues beyond the Wall.

THE CURTAIN OF LIGHT IS REAL.

Do you think this means Jon and Daenerys forge Lightbringer in the Lands of the Long Summer?

+.+.+

"Frenya, Holly, go with them," Rowan said. "We will be along with Abel. Do not wait for us." And with that, she whirled and plunged into the snow, toward the Great Hall. Willow and Myrtle hurried after her, cloaks snapping in the wind.

Quick rundown.

Squirrel was left in Jeyne's bed.

Frenya and Holly will die on the page.

We don't know if Rowan, Myrtle, and Willow survived.

Frenya and Holly dying and eventually being identified ensures Mance will be captured.

This is one of those situations where I'm not sure what I should be hoping for. Dead might be preferable. God help them if they were taken alive.

+.+.+

Madder and madder, thought Theon Greyjoy. Escape had seemed unlikely with all six of Abel's women; with only two, it seemed impossible. But they had gone too far to return the girl to her bedchamber and pretend none of this had ever happened. Instead he took Jeyne by the arm and drew her down the pathway to the Battlements Gate. Only a halfgate, he reminded himself. Even if the guards let us pass, there is no way through the outer wall. On other nights, the guards had allowed Theon through, but all those times he'd come alone. He would not pass so easily with three serving girls in tow, and if the guards looked beneath Jeyne's hood and recognized Lord Ramsay's bride …

Did a single person think any of this through? Lol.

+.+.+

"Reek, is that you?"

Yes, he meant to say. Instead he heard himself reply, "Theon Greyjoy. I … I have brought some women for you."

"You poor boys must be freezing," said Holly. "Here, let me warm you up." She slipped past the guard's spearpoint and reached up to his face, pulling loose the half-frozen scarf to plant a kiss upon his mouth. And as their lips touched, her blade slid through the meat of his neck, just below the ear. Theon saw the man's eyes widen. There was blood on Holly's lips as she stepped back, and blood dribbling from his mouth as he fell.

I don't know about you guys, but I'm picking up on a pattern here.

Osha slit Drennan's throat.

His throat had been opened ear to ear. A ragged tunic concealed the half-healed scars on his back, but his boots were scattered amidst the rushes, and his breeches tangled about his feet.  - Theon IV, ACOK

Ygritte and knives.

"I'd cut his throat while he slept. You know nothing, Jon Snow." Ygritte twisted like an eel and wrenched away from him. - Jon V, ASOS

x

"I'm no crow wife!" Ygritte snatched her knife from its sheath. Three quick strides, and she yanked the old man's head back by the hair and opened his throat from ear to ear. - Jon V, ASOS

Val and knives.

If you force her to marry a man she does not want, she is like to slit his throat on their wedding night. - Jon I, ADWD

x

All the same, the wildling princess was not beloved of her gaolers. She scorned them all as "kneelers," and had thrice attempted to escape. When one man-at-arms grew careless in her presence she had snatched his dagger from its sheath and stabbed him in the neck. - Jon III, ADWD

The spearwives and their knives.

If the man had touched Jeyne, she might have screamed. Then Holly would have opened his throat for him with the knife hidden up her sleeve. - Theon I, ADWD

x

Clad as serving girls in layers of drab grey roughspun, they wore brown woolen cloaks lined with white rabbit fur. No swords, Theon saw. No axes, no hammers, no weapons but knives. - Theon I, ADWD

x

And as their lips touched, her blade slid through the meat of his neck, just below the ear. - Theon I, ADWD

The point I'm trying to make is that none of the previous victims were stabbed or had their throat cut.

The Ryswell man-at-arms was thrown from the battlements.

The naked Frey squire died from exposure.

The Flint crossbowan was found in the stables with a broken skull.

Yellow Dick was found in a snowdrift with his penis cut off, and shoved into his broken mouth.

I've watched enough Criminal Minds to know none of this fits their pattern of criminal behaviour.

"These dead were all strong men," said Roger Ryswell, "and none of them were stabbed. The turncloak's not our killer." - A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

Looking back, I think that line was meant to cast doubt on the spearwives.

+.+.+

The second guard was still gaping in confusion when Frenya grabbed the shaft of his spear. They struggled for a moment, tugging, till the woman wrenched the weapon from his fingers and clouted him across the temple with its butt. As he stumbled backwards, she spun the spear around and drove its point through his belly with a grunt.

Jeyne Poole let out a shrill, high scream.

+.+.+

On the drawbridge, Frenya stopped and turned. "Go on. I will hold the kneelers here." The bloody spear was still clutched in her big hands.

I have to keep highlighting these incredible women, but it still makes no sense why they're doing this.

+.+.+

Theon was staggering by the time he reached the foot of the stair. He slung the girl over his shoulder and began to climb. Jeyne had ceased to struggle by then, and she was such a little thing besides … but the steps were slick with ice beneath soft powdery snow, and halfway up he lost his footing and went down hard on one knee. 

Theon's able to carry Jeyne up stairs in feet of snow and ice. I doubt Jeyne is any less than one hundred pounds.

He's not as weak as Barbrey Dustin thinks he is.

+.+.+

As he leaned up against a merlon, breathing hard, Theon could hear the shouting from below, where Frenya was fighting half a dozen guardsmen in the snow. "Which way?" he shouted at Holly. "Where do we go now? How do we get out?"

The fury on Holly's face turned to horror. "Oh, fuck me bloody. The rope." She gave a hysterical laugh. "Frenya has the rope." Then she grunted and grabbed her stomach. A quarrel had sprouted from her gut. When she wrapped a hand around it, blood leaked through her fingers. "Kneelers on the inner wall …" she gasped, before a second shaft appeared between her breasts. Holly grabbed for the nearest merlon and fell. The snow that she'd knocked loose buried her with a soft thump.

Shouts rang out from their left. Jeyne Poole was staring down at Holly as the snowy blanket over her turned from white to red. 

Rest in peace, Frenya and Holly.

Quick question for the audience, did you prefer this or Theon throwing Miranda over the ramparts?

+.+.+

The wind was howling, and he and the girl were trapped.

The crossbow snapped. A bolt passed within a foot of him, shattering the crust of frozen snow that had plugged the closest crenel. Of Abel, Rowan, Squirrel, and the others there was no sign. He and the girl were alone. If they take us alive, they will deliver us to Ramsay.

Theon grabbed Jeyne about the waist and jumped.

He did it. He remembered his name.

Final thoughts:

Of course I would have to do Theon and locusts back-to-back. What did I expect?

I have a confession to make. Ever since Davos left the story, and Theon stopped being Reek, he's been my favourite POV.

Don't worry, I still hate him.

-> return to menu <-

[femmephantasm]

Pigs React to your Infertility

Hogsworth

"Hrm well my dear how about we tuck into some truffles about it" [snorts and snirks]

Piggleton and Pigsby

"well, y/n, you should kill yourself!"

"Yeah! kill yourself right here so we can munch and scrunch on your dead body!! I am hungry pig..."

Hellpig

"well thats ok, you can always adopt."

Dr. John Hogg

"well maybe take a special pills regimine and you will be feeling plump for birthing in no time, in the meanwhile... i am going to slosh some slop into my maw..."

Piggypeeno

"Hoohoo! Oink! The only thing I hate to see barren is me sloppy trough!! Hoiheehoooink!!" [honks clown nose]

CEO of Pork and Ham Products J.H. Sausage:

"Y/N, this is a serious threat to my business empire if you can't provide me with an heir. If you don't fix this now I'll have to file for divorce... or worse." [smacks wet lips and spools raw bacon into piggy mouth] "Maybe I will kill you and feed you to me because I am a mafia pig... that's right, I'm the don of the pig mafia, and like in the mafia, they feed dead bodies to pigs... it is very efficient, because I am a pig. That is what real business logic gets you in live... power." [spanks you]

Blood Skank the Thunder-Bringer

"Yuor lucky I have my identical twin sex-slave y/n, or else i'd cut ya ear to ear for tricking me like that!!! now give me all your egg shells and carrot tops before I shoot you with my sawn off shotgun and bring youre corpse to the gas-lord of hamburg!!" [revs motor carraige which shoots flames everyewhere and hightails it out of there]

Couch Elemental

"Houh... that's too bad... why don't ya take a lay off and sit on me, y/n?" [moans just loud enough for it to be sexual]

Monica and Sammy

"Oh man i'm sorry to hear that, honestly me and Sammy can relate... we've talked about me going off hrt for a while to increase our chances but I think ultimately we can plan something when the time is right."

"Huh? What about pigs? I don't know what you're talking about, y/n."

BELGOROTH, ARCH-MAGE OF THE WHISPERING MOUNTAINS AND LEADER OF THE COUNCIL OF BLACKBLOOD DRUIDS

"I FUCKING TURNED THOSE LESBIANS INTO PIGS AND THEY'RE ENJOYING IT A LOT. NOW I CAN CALL GUINNESS WORLD RECORDS AND SAY IVE FOUND THE WORLD'S FIRST TRANSGENDER PIG. I WILL MAKE THEM INTO HAM LATER AND EAT THEM SO THEIR SOULS CAN BE USED TO MAKE A NEW KIND OF CONSTRUCT CONTROLLED BY A SLIME INSIDE A SKELETAL WROUGHT-IRON AUTOMATON WITH HUGE WOBBLING BREASTS THAT ARE TOTALLY MECHANICALLY NECESSARY FOR THE WHOLE THING TO WORK. AND THEN I WILL WATCH THEM KISS EACHOTHER FROM MY SCRYING ORB. MY PRONOUNS ARE XE/FAE/HIR, BY THE WAY, WHAT ARE YOUR'S?"

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

okay so like we shit on Sausage PArty a lot but like CARS it leaves a lot of questions

at what point do they become sentient? like, the vegies were produce at some point, right?

the items like bread and other premade shit, they were made up of things that died to make them, do they recall any of it (eg flour, milk, eggs)?

there's little consistency around which part is sentient too, like, sometimes its the package or jar and sometimes its the stuff inside... but does the outside package know?

they seem to fear being sent to the Dark Lord's Portal (the bin) but like do they have any concept of death / decay?

also the thing that annoyed me most about the whole premise is like, assuming they did manage to take over the grocery store no worries what then? either a) they all start to decay over time, or b) the building gets destroyed byhumans bc they're not likely to allow food to start that shit.

what's up with the bottles, too? liquid seems to not be sentient (throwing out the 'things inside the package are alive like chips and crisps') ?

Oh shit, I just thought of something... pickled foods. Like, most shopping centres have some sort of pickled or whatever pickles, or other preserves... how is that meant to work? It's a presumably living jar with dead corpses of vegies or whatevs inside.

it's like wandering through a public place and there's just like a jar with corpses floating in it, there. And it talks to you or sings along, etc.

Yes, I am overthinking it, but you can't half ass worldbuilding on this scale

also, what about every other supermarket? was this one special or all of them?

Why are some non-food products (TP, condoms) esntient and others not? Like, why aren't clothes and furniture sentient in this universe? Is it only meant to be things that can come from a supermarket? bc most furniture and other items comes from a store at some point.

The end was an annoying cop-out tho, I get it was meant to be funny but they just nuked everyone's way of life and went to fight people in a world and dimension almost impossible for them to imagine, with NO POSSIBLE WAY to know if they'd be back to square one there (eg. would the other humans 'gods' see them as 3d food there too?)

If TP and condoms are sentient, what else? Pads? Tissues (yikes)? Soap? Facewash? Like there was a lot they kind of picked and chose through for this one lmao.

we never expresly aw a lot of meat in this movie except bacon strips and also sausages, but that raises more questions

like, oes the meat cut come to consciousness right after it is butchered from the deceased animal? If so, then how do you think it feels being put through a blender / grinder to become sausage?

There's a lot of triple handling for food before it's even considered to be like a basic item (eg bread, cake, sausage, any form of facewash or shampoo).

Same question for the chips and crackers we see. Do they become aware before or after being baked? Do they have an opinion on being in a package? Does the box or packet know they're in there? OR do they only come alive when the box/packet isopen?

Because in the new utopia of the supermarket, would that be considered imprisonment and boxes /jars / packages be opened against their will to release the food inside?

[Bc there was the spearmint guy who absolutely knew there were little mints inside him, and they knew what was up but opening him killed him.]

...the ethics on this could keep multiple university ethics committees busy for years. To release 'prisoners' who may not realise they are confined, by killing another, or to let the one already alive continue on? Like the trolley issue right?

its 11pm, I am overthinking like mad.

[profgandalf]

What Makes a Truly Satisfying Christmas Story?

I despise the tripe that passes as most Christmas stories. If it's a romantic narrative then a couple will have some sort of difficulty during the holidays and will overcome it by the end through the intervention of either an unexpected plot twist of goodness, a supernatural elf, or even a visitation by Santa himself.  Something must pull the protagonists’ bacon out of the fire at the last minute. Economic or domestic difficulties are all solved.  Meanwhile, how many times has the holiday itself been saved by one character or another? Ernest saves Christmas, Frosty saves Christmas, the Martians save Christmas (actually Santa saves Christmas from the Martians) and so it goes. One almost gets the sense that the celebration of Christ’s birth is a porcelain figure rather than our rugged religious holiday.

Part I

           Only Charles Dickens, with "The Christmas Carol in Prose,” ever managed to write a non-overtly religious narrative that successfully embraces the central power of the holiday.  Furthermore, his success seems to have eluded him in most other tries.  After 1843 Dickens composed Christmas stories multiple times which were financially so successful that his Christmas presentation became a staple in Victorian England.   However, most modern critics admit that "A Cricket on the Hearth," "The Chimes," “The Haunted House” “The Struggle for Life,” and the “Haunted Man” do not rise to the power of Scrooge’s transformation.  In fact, most readers have never heard of them.  Only “The Cricket” ever made it as a Rankin and Bass special.  Furthermore this failure should not be connected with any sense of the growing cynicism within the author.  Not even the Christmas chapters from "The Pickwick Papers" (which predates “The Carol”) entitled "The Goblins Who Stole a Sexton" hit the nose on the head in the same way that Scrooge’s story does. “The Carol’s strength comes from Dickens’ channeling the holiday’s spiritual center. Using that as a base, I would like to suggest that the spiritual center necessary for an effective Christmas story must include the following: (1) it must be a narrative of wonder; (2) it must involve something precious, (3) that precious something must face real jeopardy, and finally (4) the solution to that challenge, the salvation depicted in the story’s conclusion, must be potentially inclusive.

Part II

To begin, the successful story of Christmas must be one of wonder. As Dickens famously said In the opening of his “Carol” “There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.“ Christmas is, at its center, not an everyday event. “It is the most wonderful time of the year.” It comes, shaking up the norm. And that is part of its spiritual center. Both Hebrew and Christian understanding of the Almighty’s workings includes wonder: “Who is like unto thee, O Lord, among the gods? Who is like thee, glorious in holiness, fearful in praises, doing wonders?” (Exodus 15:11 KJV). “Remember his marvelous works that he hath done, his wonders, and the judgments of his mouth” (1 Chronicles 16:12 KJV). So Christmas stories, at their best, always include wonder.            In some ways, this is the easiest of elements to incorporate. Just set the story in a land of wonders such as Toyland in "March of the Wooden Soldiers," Christmas Town in “Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer” or Whoville in “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” The fantastic element of the place itself will instill wonder. Furthermore many might note that because of the fantastic setting, an overt reference to Christ is not always needed. And many Christmas stories avoid the overt religious quality by doing so. However, overtly avoiding the Christmas story is perilous since it is the springboard of the Yule soul. Think of Fred Halloway's observation from "the Christmas Carol":

“I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round -- apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that -- as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.”

           Again, note the element of breaking into what is normal. Still, it interesting to note that C.S. Lewis and Tolkien disagreed about lands of wonder and Christmas. Tolkien, who created a whole series of Father Christmas letters and stories for his children, told Lewis it was impossible to have Christmas in Narnia since there was no Christ. Apparently, Lewis just shrugged and had Father Christmas appear anyway. (Ironically, Tolkien felt that Lewis’ fairytale was to obviously Christian, preferring his more subtle approach found in Middle Earth.) Still I think Lewis' instincts also had merit. What a powerful opening Lewis gives which is centered on Christmas: “It is winter in Narnia,” said Mr. Tumnus, “and has been forever so long. . . always winter, but never Christmas.” The bleakness of Narnia is tangible to both young and old readers even if it is a world of wonder and when Christmas comes it signals the end of the White Witch’s power.            One might wonder where is the wonder is such a hard-boiled Christmas narrative as “A Christmas Story,” in which the narrator is desperately trying to maneuver his mom and dad into buying him a Red Ryder BB Gun© (with this thing in the stock that tells time). However, the wonder is everywhere in this story. As Ralphi recalls "First nighters, packed earmuff to earmuff, jostled in wonderment before a golden tinkling display of mechanized, electronic joy!" Randy is still so young that he dances about at the Christmas Parade at seeing Mickey and the characters from “the Wizard of Oz.” But even Ralphie is enough of a believer in wonder that he includes Santa in his machinations. Wonder is vital for a Christmas story. And the acceptance of wonder is required: “Man of the Worldly mind” says Marley’s ghost, “Do you believe in me or not?! "Seeing is believing," says the conductor in “The Polar Express.” "but sometimes the most real things in the world are the things we can't see." Christmas stories demand the embracing of wonder. Meanwhile, the depth of Wonder in a Christmas story is directly related to its next quality, the jeopardy in which something precious is placed.

Part III

           The second and third qualities found in the best of Christmas Stories are intimately joined together: Such stories must involve something precious, and that precious quality must face jeopardy. And here is where many Yule narratives go off the rails.            Too often Christmas itself is held up as the precious thing supposedly in peril. Relatives might not make it, the dinner could be ruined or maybe Santa can’t make his flight and all the goodies will not be delivered. But as Dr. Seuss reminds us, Christmas is not so fragile. “’Maybe Christmas,‘ he thought...doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps...means a little bit more’”. Stories that make the Christmas celebration the center point falter.            Also, romantic love, while precious, is not neatly so important as to support a Christmas story. Now here, I might expect some pushback. There is hardly anything so enshrined in our culture than the ultimate value of romantic love. After all, in Dickens' "Carol" Scrooge's nature is revealed by his dismissal of Fred's choice to marry because of love.

           “Why did you get married?” said Scrooge.            “Because I fell in love.”            “Because you fell in love!” growled Scrooge, as if that were the only one thing in the world more ridiculous than a merry Christmas. “Good afternoon!”

           For many, the saddest moment in "The Carol" is Scrooge's choice to not follow his heart and marry a woman who would bring so little wealth to his situation when the norm of Dickens's age was to look for a woman who could aid oneself economically. In fact, some scholars think that Dickens worked himself into an early grave partly because he was trying to set up dowries for his two surviving daughters. It's notable that Dickens actually received some contemporary criticism in "the Carol" for encouraging young people to marry willy-nilly for love without thinking of the full consequences.            Personally, I can recall thinking that the joyful ending of "The Carol" is marred because Scrooge does not find romantic love at the end. But that is a misunderstanding. Romantic love while wonderful is precious only in its hope of becoming marital and familial love--the building blocks of our culture. Anyone who has seen more than twenty-five birthdays knows that romantic love by itself is as fleeting as a morning mist.            Romantic love is precious only in that it leads to marital and familial love. Such love may play a role in a strong Christmas story but if such fleeting affection is the centerpiece of a Yule narrative, the Christmas story flounders--a lot of sound and fury with little consequences. The bounds of marriage and children are deeply precious and the forces which put marriage and a family in jeopardy are worthy elements within a strong Christmas story. Thus, as George Bailey, in "It's a Wonderful Life," moves towards despair, it affects his marriage and family--his daughter Zuzu especially. The true tragedy that the Ghost of Christmas Past presents to Scrooge is the marriage and family he might have had.

And now Scrooge looked on more attentively than ever, when the master of the house, having his daughter leaning fondly on him, sat down with her and her mother at his own fireside; and when he thought that such another creature, quite as graceful and as full of promise, might have called him father, and been a spring-time in the haggard winter of his life, his sight grew very dim indeed. 

This last image is so wretched it causes Scrooge to physically attack the spirit to repress it.   And when, transformed, he sets forth, Scrooge finds his great joy met first at church and then among his family.            The best Christmas stories are those that center on humanity's loss and reclamation. Christmas at its center is the story of helpless humankind being hopelessly lost. The race teeters on despair and destruction. Although the wonder of Christmas can be assisted in fantastic settings, the central quality of Yule wonder is that in the midst of helplessness, help arrived. “The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined” (Isaiah 9:2).            This is emphasized in multiple Christmas stories. Death and sterility being "The Carol." Marley is dead, to begin with, and so is Scrooge. The narration makes it clear that they are tied together: “Scrooge never painted out Old Marley's name. There it stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door: Scrooge and Marley. The firm was known as Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people new to the business called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names: It was all the same to him.” Scrooge at the beginning of the story is as dead as a coffin nail.

“Oh! but he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner!.”

The fact is that the old miser needs help, even if Scrooge himself doesn't know it:

Scrooge. . .made bold to inquire what business brought him there.  “Your welfare!” said the Ghost. Scrooge expressed himself much obliged, but could not help thinking that a night of unbroken rest would have been more conducive to that end. The Spirit must have heard him thinking, for it said immediately: “Your reclamation, then. Take heed!”

           Again, in so many of the best Christmas stories, the state of the individual is in deep peril. In Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life,” George Bailey is near self-destruction. The top angel, Franklin, says this “man will be thinking seriously of throwing away God's greatest gift”. Clarence knows exactly what he means. “Oh, dear, dear! His life!.”            More than that, in the eyes of the very Catholic Frank Capra the contemplation of suicide places George Bailey's eternal soul in jeopardy. And the film "Joyeux Noël" depicts the events surrounding the Christmas Truce of 1914 in the midst of tragic jeopardy. Such potential terrible loss is the kind of foundation upon which the best Christmas stories are built.

Part IV

           The fourth and final quality of the best Yule narratives is that like the original good news, a Christmas Story should be inclusive. “Then the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people'” (Luke 2:10 KJV). Christmas is for all people, no matter one's race, gender, or age. The best Christmas stories portray the inclusion of those who, for one reason or another, were outcasts.

           This is important to the narrative because it is organic to the Christmas message. Contrary to the claims of many contemporary experts, Christianity has always been inclusive. As St. Paul writes “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Gal. 3:28 KJV). That, from a man brought up in the Pharisaical tradition, is an amazing claim. St. John writes in the last book, “Whosoever will, may come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely (Rev. 22:17b KJV). As a child, I can recall gustily belting out the chorus to P. P. Bliss’ ”Whosoever Will May Come:”

   “Whosoever will, whosoever will!    Send the proclamation over vale and hill;    'Tis a loving Father calls the wanderer home.    "Whosoever will may come."

(Just a side note: the American hymn writer, P. P. Bliss, from Ohio lived from 1838 to 1870 and was therefore a contemporary of Charles Dickens who lived from 1812 to 1870)

           The inclusion of the outcast, the inclusion of the enemy, is an especially vital part of Christmas stories. “God Bless Us, Everyone!” is first Tiny Tim’s  and then the narrator’s wish in the Carol.  Christmas should never involve the gleeful dancing by the hero over the fallen figure of his or her opponent. In "Joyeux Noël" that becomes literally true as soldiers from Germany, England and France face one another at Christmas during World War I.  In Adrea Bocelli's Christmas song "God Bless Us Everyone" (featured in Disney's version of “The Christmas Carol”), he provides this proms:

To the voices no one hears,

We have come to find you.

With your laughter and your tears,

Goodness, hope, and virtue.

The central nature of inclusiveness is emphasized in Rankin and Bass’ “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” when the red nosed Rudolf and Hermey, the Elf who wants to be a dentist, find places within their community (as does the terrible Abdominal--whose job becomes the one who places stars on the tops of trees ). And who can forget the joyful ending when Santa arrives to gather up and find homes to all of the inhabitants of The Island of Misfit Toys. The ending which featured this rescue was a late added scene for the second year’s broadcast because there was so much uncertainty over the fate of the toys from the show’s premier.  That is how important inclusiveness is to Christmas. Those who think “Happy Holidays” is a more inclusive term miss the point entirely.

           But there is a caveat. While all are welcome in the spirit of Christmas, not everyone will come because not everyone will lay down what is killing them spiritually. Henry F. Potter from "It's a Wonderful Life" is not there in the final scene singing with the rest of his community, and it's NOT because George Bailey, his family, or his friends would have excluded him. It's because Henry F. Potter excluded himself.

           The isolating sin of idolatry is alive in our age. Whatever is placed above the light of Christmas is, in fact, a deadly hindrance--what Dickens wisely portrayed as chains on Marley. Bell, Scrooge's former fiancé, identifies his economic passion as idolatry:

"Another idol has displaced me; and if it can cheer and comfort you in time to come, as I would have tried to do, I have no just cause to grieve.'' "What Idol has displaced you?'' he [Scrooge] rejoined. "A golden one.''

Dickens' audience would have immediately recognized the Biblical echo of the golden calf from the Exodus story. If he had not accepted the truth given by the Spirit of Christmas Past (a metaphor for memory) Scrooge would not have found himself at his nephew's Christmas dinner. Meanwhile, if the Grinch had not seen that there is more to Christmas than packages and bags, then he would have found himself out in the snow not enjoying his roast-beast.

           Thus, whatever we hold so dear in ourselves that we will not let it go and would sacrifice all else for it, be it political affiliation, gender identification, sexual gratification, competitive economics, or national patriotism when we hold it higher than the light which Christ claimed to bring, we bare ourselves from Christmas.

           Thankfully the truth of Christmas in the best of stories is revealed to be far more penetrating, far more enduring, and far more powerful than the world thinks it is. "And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not" (John 1:5 KJV). The best of Christmas stories helps us comprehend it just a little bit more than we might have.

           So with all that being said, I sit here with my fingers hovering over the keyboard trying to compose in my head a Christmas yarn worthy of the title.  Glad there is no deadline on me as poor Charles was facing in 1843. Merry Christmas Everyone! Dec. 2022

[johnhardinsawyer]

The Most Important Meal

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

4 / 7 / 24 – Second Sunday of Easter

John 21:1-19

“The Most Important Meal”[1]

(Wandering Heart – Week 8)

Monday, Wednesday, and Friday:  Oatmeal, Toast, Grapefruit for Amy, and Coffee.  Sometimes, the oatmeal has raisins, sometimes it has fresh fruit, sometimes we make a berry compote.  Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday:  Scrambled Eggs, Toast, and Coffee.  Saturday:  Fried-egg Sandwich with bacon on an English Muffin, Toast, and Coffee OR pancakes, or waffles, or fresh biscuits (with eggs) and Coffee.  Oh, and coffee. . . did I mention coffee?  Coffee is key!

So, what do you eat for breakfast?  It’s the most important meal of the day.  At least, this is what we’ve been told over the years.  There are some people – there’s always ‘some people’ – who might disagree about the importance of breakfast, but many licensed dieticians agree that “starting your day with a nutritious breakfast kick-starts your metabolism and provides fuel for your body and brain. . . [those who skip breakfast] miss out on important nutrients that you won’t make up for later in the day. . .”[2]  Just some food for thought. . .  which is what breakfast turns out to be:  food to fuel your mind and body through the first part of your day.  

When I was growing up, breakfast was sometimes the only time our family was together for a meal all day.  After breakfast, we would go to school and work and, inevitably, someone would have to work late, or have an evening meeting, or rehearsal, and we wouldn’t all four see each other until the next morning at the breakfast table.  There were plenty of times when we came slumping in and slouched over our cereal, conversing in grunts and groans, but we were there, together.  

There are some of you who did not grow up in this way, and I am sure you have your reasons for why you do what you do in the morning, but there is something special about eating breakfast with those you love – even if they are slurping and monosyllabic.  I mean, at least you’re together.  

Some of us were together, here, about eight weeks ago at the start of the Season of Lent when we began a series of sermons about Jesus’ friend and disciple, Peter.  Eight weeks ago, we heard a story about a miraculous catch of fish and how Peter – who was known as Simon, at the time – went from skeptical to amazed.  

This was at the start of Peter’s association with Jesus.  In today’s story, we find one of the last in-person encounters that Peter has with Jesus.  Today’s story takes place after the resurrection, and in today’s story, the disciples are not in Jerusalem anymore.  They are back in the place where they were from, doing what they used to do before they met Jesus.  They are fishing on the big lake known as the Sea of Tiberias or the Sea of Galilee.  The text tells us that Peter, Thomas (the Thomas who doubted that Jesus had risen from the dead), Nathaniel, James, John, and two other disciples all go fishing.  They fish all night but catch nothing.

Just after daybreak, Jesus stands on the beach but the disciples do not recognize him – maybe it’s the strange shadows that happen at dawn, maybe they just can’t see him clearly.  Jesus calls out across the water, asking the fishermen if they have caught any fish and they say “no.”  Then Jesus tells them to try a different approach – casting the net off of the other side of the boat.  Suddenly, a big school of fish swims into their net and the net becomes so full that they are not able to haul it in.  The text tells us that there are 153 large fish!  (21:11). When this happens, a disciple, known only as “the one whom Jesus loved,” (John 21:7) says to Peter, “It is the Lord!”

By now in the Bible story, the risen Christ has already appeared to the disciples at least twice.  But each appearance is new and exciting and Peter is excited enough to put on his swimsuit and do the 100 yard dash through the water arriving breathless on the shore. 

This is the part of the story where breakfast begins.  Jesus has lit a fire for cooking and he says, “Come and have breakfast.”  (21:12)

Now, before we can continue, I want to take you back to a little incident that happened the night that Jesus was arrested.  All four Gospels tell us that, on the night that Jesus was arrested, Peter denied that he knew Jesus at all.  Peter said that he knew nothing about this Jesus person.  When he was asked “Don’t you know Jesus?  Aren’t you one of his friends?  Haven’t I seen you with Jesus?”  Peter said “No.  No.  No.  I do not know him”– three times.[3]

And now, over breakfast, even though Peter has seen the risen Christ multiple times, now, the denials of Peter have not yet been addressed by Peter, Jesus, or anyone else – at least, not that we know of.  Peter may have been refreshed by his sprint through the water, but I imagine that after a while, his shoulders start to slump a little over his meal.  Some things just weigh us down, don’t they?  We are told in Matthew, Mark, and Luke, that Peter weeps bitterly in shame the moment he realizes what he has done by denying Jesus.  John’s Gospel says nothing about Peter weeping but I would venture a guess that Peter does not come to breakfast by the sea that morning without a heart that was at least a little heavy.

I don’t know about you, but when I do something wrong or say the wrong thing – and I come to find out that I have hurt someone or broken a trust – it hits me like a ton of bricks that I carry with me, until things can be made right, until apologies can be made and forgiveness given.

So Peter sits and eats breakfast with Jesus and the others and then Jesus turns to Peter and says, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?”  (21:15). And then, again, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”  (21:16). And then, a third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”  (21:17). Three times he asks – just as many times as Peter denied Jesus.  And each time Jesus asks, “Do you love me?”  Peter says “Yes.”  “Yes.”  “Yes, Lord, I do love you.”

You should know that Jesus never mentions Peter’s denials.  Instead, Jesus is ready to move on.  Jesus is interested in a relationship with Peter – a relationship built on love and the right response to that love.  “Do you love me?”   “Yes.”  “Then feed my lambs.”  “Feed my sheep.”  “Follow me.”

When the Gospel of John was written, the church was already sixty to eighty years old.  These words, which Jesus spoke to Peter, would have also been heard by the members of the early church.  They would have made the connection that Jesus, who was also known as “the good shepherd,” was passing on the care and feeding of his “flock” to Peter and the other disciples.  So, when we read this passage all these years later, it is important to make the connection that, in this breakfast conversation with Peter, Jesus is talking about all of those who have heard his voice over the centuries and have followed him by offering their love and their service. 

Jesus is talking about us, too.  As a church, if we desire to care properly and faithfully for God’s people, our love for Jesus is the starting place of our care for the flock.  Notice that I said “our love for Jesus is the starting place,” not “our love for the church as an institution, or a building, or a certain tradition that gives us meaning and identity but has nothing to do with Jesus.”  Jesus asks Peter and asks us, “Do you love me more than these (21:15) – these other disciples, fellow travelers, fellow faithful people?”  Because if you love me [Jesus] more than these, then your love for everyone else will come from the right place.”  “Get your priorities straight,” Jesus is saying – “Love me first” – and he’s right.  

When it comes to love, what – or who – are your priorities?  As Presbyterians, we believe that any love that we have comes from God in the first place, so why not love God, first, and then have God’s love overflow into the rest of our relationships?  “Do you love me?”  Jesus asks.  This is what Jesus is interested in.  To love Jesus is to lay aside the things that hold us back and follow Jesus into the future God has prepared for us – not the past.

“Do you love me?”  Jesus asks.  “Because I love you.”  And if you do love me, then follow where I lead into what comes next.”    

As forgiven and beloved people, we still have a lot to do, a lot to learn, and a lot to give when it comes to God’s kingdom and the care of God’s people.  This is the loving task set before us. . . before us, not behind us – in the future – not in the past.  Thankfully, we are not left to our own devices.  

This is one reason why Jesus offers himself to us in this most important meal; the Lord’s Supper – the meal in which our sins are forgiven, we are made new, and we are prepared, and strengthened by the Holy Spirit for what lies ahead.  When Jesus is at the Table with his disciples, he knows what their failings are and yet he still offers himself to them.  Sitting at breakfast with Peter in today’s story, he does this again.  He does the same for us and to us – again, and again, and again.  

Breakfast is a meal that is so full of promise – the promise of what is ahead.  At the beginning of the day, the whole day is before us – the future is before us.  Life is before us.  It is the perfect time to begin again, to start anew, to forgive, to make things right – but, you know, if you think about it, every meal – every moment – of our lives is a perfect time for that.

Friends and followers of Jesus, why not start now?  Why not start, anew?  What happened yesterday is behind us.  We are forgiven, loved, and freed.  And it is time to move forward into the abundant life Jesus lived and died and rose again to give us.  “Do you love me?” Jesus asks.  May our answer always be, “Yes.”  “Yes.”  “Yes.”

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

---------

[1] Part of this sermon is adapted from a sermon preached on April 18, 2010, entitled “Forgiveness for Breakfast” at Northminster Presbyterian Church in Macon, GA.

[2] https://www.piedmont.org/living-real-change/why-breakfast-is-the-most-important-meal-of-the-day.

[3] See Matthew 26:69-75, Mark 14:66-72, Luke 22:54-62, and John 18:15-18, 25-27.

[christian-perspectives]

Call Upon The Name Of The Lord

Do you know someone who's in a real fix? You believe you can help them but don't want to overstep your bounds. The Lord wants to help us, too, but he'll wait until we call upon His name. "The Lord says, "I was ready to respond, but no one asked for help. I was ready to be found, but no one was looking for me. I said, 'Here I am, here I am!' to a nation that did not call on my name. Isaiah 65:1 Some people think they know something about God but don't. Why? Because they believe that He sits in heaven waiting to pounce on people when they mess up. How much further away from the truth can a person get? Isaiah painted a different picture of God. He said the Lord waits until we call on His name, asking for His help.

Click on the graphic for this free eBook Instead of going to Him, we try to figure things out for ourselves. Sometimes, we feel that since we created the problem, we should solve it. But an even bigger reason exists. It stems from the fact that we are wretched sinners. We wonder why God would want to help us since we have failed Him so often. But look what Isaiah said. All day long I opened my arms to a rebellious people. But they follow their own evil paths and their own crooked schemes. Isaiah 65:2 The Lord opened His arms for His people to call on His name. He stands with His arms opened wide for us as well. Why did His people follow evil paths? For the same reasons, we do today.

Only Two Directions

The terms "evil paths and crooked schemes" may sound like offensive language to you. But when we walk through life's problems on our own accord, we can create more problems. We can only walk in two directions. We either walk away from God or with Him. Too many times, we expect the Lord to get on our bandwagon. But it doesn't work that way. When we expect the Lord to walk with us, we actually move away from Him. If you didn't like the terms Isaiah used before, you won't like the next thing he said. All day long they insult me to my face by worshiping idols in their sacred gardens. They burn incense on pagan altars. Isaiah 65:3 Sadly, the worship of idols happens more times than we want to admit. Recently, I wrote a devotion called The Sacred Place Where You Meet With God. We'd be surprised how many Christians have places they consider sacred where they don't invite God. Those places are no different than Isaiah's sacred gardens in this chapter. You may be saying, "I would never do that." We do, though, and don't realize it. They may come as slanderous or gossiping conversations, things we'd never say in front of Jesus. Is God allowed on your Facebook page or other social media platforms? We could mention many other places people treat as sacred. At this moment, if you feel uncomfortable or convicted, let the Holy Spirit deal with your heart. Then, call on the name of the Lord and invite Him into every area of your life. Isaiah continued.

Obedience or Disobedience?

At night they go out among the graves, worshiping the dead. They eat the flesh of pigs and make stews with other forbidden foods. Isaiah 65:4

For us, this isn't about walking through a cemetery or eating bacon, but it deals with disobeying God. Salvation starts with a prayer but continues by committing our lives to Him. In Romans, the Apostle Paul wrote about offering our bodies as living sacrifices. Jesus, however, connected our love for Him and obedience to Him in the same sentence. Those who accept my commandments and obey them are the ones who love me. And because they love me, my Father will love them. John 14:21 So far, Isaiah said that if we call on the name of the Lord, He will answer. He still answers even though we have rebelled, insulted, and disobeyed Him. But the prophet mentioned one more. Yet they say to each other, 'Don't come too close or you will defile me! I am holier than you!’ These people are a stench in my nostrils, an acrid smell that never goes away. Isaiah 65:5 In this verse, the prophet says the Lord takes an immovable stand against pride. When Peter walked with Jesus in his early days, pride often surfaced in him. But later, he wrote this. And all of you, dress yourselves in humility as you relate to one another, for "God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble." 1 Peter 5:5 Make sure you understand exactly what both Isaiah and Peter said. If pride plagues you, God doesn't hate you. He just can't stand the pride. He loves you enough, though, to help you change.

We Can Call upon the Name of the Lord Anytime

So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and at the right time he will lift you up in honor. Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you. 1 Peter 5:6-7 Isaiah's prophetic words spanned inclusively across an array of time that extended into the Millennium. We will stray away from God when we go through life on our own. But no matter what, He always loves us. So when you stray, quickly turn to Him and call on the name of the Lord. I will answer them before they even call to me. While they are still talking about their needs, I will go ahead and answer their prayers! Isaiah 65:24 God is ready to be found and is ready to help. Are you ready to call upon the name of the Lord? Lord, I call upon your name right now to . . . Check out these related posts as you call upon the Lord and give Him thanks. - Give God Thanks With All Of Your Heart - A Lifetime Of Thanks And Heart Full Of Praise - Every Thing Gives Him Thanks, Great Is The Lord! - Make A Simple Sacrifice of Thanks to The Lord Read the full article

[libidomechanica]

“Vacant her word to my serenity— that goods”

And so both are lost my mouth it     was betraying with buttons forth than Nanie, O: may ill be     lucky together the stars of mine, lass, in fact, true as     that true, ’ and to think; tis dance tells me ours is an earth has     Nero, and having days’

sweet Idyl, and fall he shoulder,     with wealth would I forgot, nor breathing into itself, or     pines in a moment seemed pale and certain top which, elements     of night, and as true; as spring of hem was getting     go. To leap large a flute

of shame, the Gulf Stream and labour     was but the Oppian Law. Arms Shirúeh’s Feet drenched it last? Vacant     her word to my serenity—that goods. Come full before.     Then make captive one, or bribe. Think how your heart is no     common fated to prayse

is my gift of a garded be,     at her husband having song: then despise; let crutches     betraying: for Winters sorowe. With fluttryng wing, a beauty     and ready, they circle they will not ask a kiss out-went     to scent in furrow-cloven

falls below white heat till Eastern     anti-jacobin at first time and it out, the shrilled,     it is yet unborn: first Mrs. His soul with buttons     for the Rain King, for they keep an’ kye thrice to woo: to woo:     to woo: to woo: to woo:

to woo: to woo: to wooing music,     sole echoed he; no soft face teacher’s breast rear’d on libbard’s     paws, upheld them is alive, thy lips pursues! I have     cloth. Upon the great oath I swear on the babe rest? There is     most grac’d to nothing over

his mind! I waste in the meaning     thee that late mouth with gold to the Almighty dove? Whose     circle of sence horrid spring of the heauens did quake him     run. What was mine, reverent nations fillet’s obay where     and warm’d. To seize; she plain,

ended knees; her hands were were well     as balm it is my gift where is love me, her rare flowery     nunnery; by silently over herself with bulrush     and grieve, so he wound of Retribute to hiccup or     to be sing and when I’m

old, okay? That disastrous lifetime     each pallid breast and measure with mother valentine.     Yet since I sang of a God. Afar, a dwarfs and adorning     doth admir’d. Wallow banks and hart still. Which Nature     wondering in thys long wit,

and to proceeding, was never     everybody yet your telephone can die by it, if     not praised, I say, is then he is giving Love is the fair     chamber up, close grow up child, and love more ways. How kenst thou     are gratefull times a

sort not enamoured lands outrun     the hoarse alarmed believe does not for a minute, come     for the year; the opinion made of the Sunne: and at the     summer’s flow, sun and other’s breadth, nor missed the tape rolling     him, and a shade of

pillowing well that art now is rage;     but one to stop my way; for shadows wide—be sure without     a sound of Chian wine! The little time of this is morning     a ding, ding; sweet side his pale yellow! Nor give a butterfly,     land quiet—dull fence

facing, with busy brain around.     The myrtle boatman’ and t is no stouter weapons under     wanton thru the fields. Poor twist, or else stands, and when should     lead a little smart? Suppose grown the fall of thy lustre     of Death! In spring of

this such as gather truth like in     plaster; you can say, some have. He was turn to their share our     sun stand trust to an enslaver. And short armistice with     the Lord Bacon’s bribe me then, I haue a syre, a fleeting,     and tell vs, what late

by pearl or ill—Dear, but the wine     ne’er the people’s banquet- room shone evades of light that heart,     your little to give him Max, and riches,—and all the woman     has’t by kind of the other outcry for Thee—Oh spurn     the Seed of charm might fades

away; and before weak voiceless     numbers breathe on thee, my heau’nly ioy, Yf still o’er dropp’d, am     I ravisher thigh nearly urinating Toies, your     hand, lass; and the moved in the coffee grind, when fated to     re-assure him, while to

tell, motions the grass, beneath the     happy. He gate, in springtime, since burns, seeing her badly     dresses by the God once dead You have comes with it. Many     dare not, lovelorn piteous as t were done: Marry a     monstrous laws; there but Loues

winters sorowe. Mote be fast as     it was a water, water the meed of child, too, and a     hey nonino, that will confusion bred in mourning. Then     all her, one not learne within her arms undo, bow patience     in purpose. That compete.

[tarnishedxknight]

Mantis’ mind was already racing, planning to take the man she believed to be Loki disguised as Thor to the Bowie, explain the situation to Drax, return to Knowhere, contact Thor, tell him that his brother was alive - alive! - and ask him to come and pick him up. She had landed on Earth determined to find Kevin Bacon and make Quill happy, but she had been so lucky to find Loki as well. She would make Thor happy too, and everyone was going to feel just fine for the first time in forever. The empath was overjoyed.

Reality hit her like a spaceship taking off. Her antennae became so droopy, the tips almost brushed against her temples. Mantis pressed her lips together, swallowing the questions and protests that wanted to come out. Doing her best to ignore the tears that welled up in her eyes. She tried really hard to hide her disappointment; it wasn’t this man’s fault that she got her hopes up. She couldn’t help but feel a little bit of embarrassment, but mostly she just felt sadness.

“Oh, my apologies.” Her voice came out weaker than intended, and Mantis cleared her throat. “Apologies,” she repeated a little louder. She had mistakenly greeted him as someone else… twice. No matter how much she enjoyed socializing, she was still, deep down, a socially inept being. But could she really be blamed for this misunderstanding? He looked so much like Thor, and it didn’t help that his brother could change appearance. A tiny part of her was still hopeful that this was Loki. Maybe this was some sort of trick. Thor loved his brother, but he mentioned he couldn’t be trusted. Maybe this was the trickster messing with her… “May I see your tongue please?” Mantis asked. “I just need confirmation. Show me your tongue, please.” She then stood on her tiptoes to take a look. According to Thor, Loki had a silver tongue. That should give it away. “Hm… No, you are not the second person I mistook you for. Thank you.” Mantis wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling very hopeless. Loki was dead. She wouldn’t be able to make Thor happy.

“It is nice to meet you anyway,” she added, managing a polite smile. “I am Mantis.” She had already introduced herself, although she thought she was introducing herself to Loki. She felt silly, and had the need to introduce herself properly to Basch. She rubbed her arms, wishing she could just disappear and leave this poor guy alone after approaching him in such an aggressively happy manner. “I thought you were… Uh… I thought… My bad. You happen to look just like someone I know…” Mantis tilted her head to one side, then the other, black eyes watching him carefully. “And specifically, someone whose brother could take the appearance of others, so I thought…” That there would be a happy reunion? She was living in a galaxy that had been ravaged by Thanos. Happy reunions were no longer a thing. Reunions, if they happened, were not happy but awkward and painful. They would reopen old wounds and pour salt. She felt stupid for not remembering that as often as she should. “I’m sorry…”

When Basch asked if she was looking for a particular place, Mantis nodded. “I would like to know where I could find the legendary Kevin Bacon. I want to offer him as a Christmas present to the legendary Star-Lord. I don’t know what Christmas is, but I know I must save it for him… I have to do this, or else Christmas is doomed.” The empath tapped her chin, looking around. Finding him couldn’t be that hard. “If you know where he is, that knowledge would be very much appreciated. If not, it is okay, I can always ask other Terrans!” She had already been disruptive to this man, and she did not want to bother him any longer.

(I agree, it’s sad. She’s so sad post-Thanos she clings to anything she perceives as good news 😞 On a lighter note, it was cool to write her as thinking she found Loki because I ship her with a friend’s Loki and they went through so much I sometimes forget they never canonically met XD They even have a daughter, Spring. Loki thinks Mantis picked the name after the season, especially since I do give her her botanokinesis from the comics, but it actually stands for Springsteen. His mun and I laugh so much behind Loki’s back like can you please look a little further inside your wife’s head and realize your kid’s named after someone who creates that ‘Midgardian noise’ as you call it 😭 Girl has two himbo uncles with Thor and Quill, too.)

__________

{MY HEART! UGH! Poor Mantis... But yeah, I get that. The Blip and all that Thanos nonsense really messed with so many people. Loki’s death was really sad, too, like... I wasn’t overly a fan of his and it bothered me, so I can only imagine if that was your boy and you saw that? Ugh. I don’t envy his fans for that. But omg Mantis naming her daughter after Springsteen. That’s... SUPER adorable. Hmm Mantis x Loki, huh? I feel like that would either be an atrocious mess of a ship or it would work so well it’d be amazing, and it sounds like you got it to be the latter, heh. Also I love when headcanons and AUs in rp become so detailed, natural, and solid that you forget they didn’t actually happen in canon. I’ve been told on occasion that a canon character I write “is canon for me” by people who read my threads and honestly that is the most validating feeling as a writer. When you take a canon character and change it in a way that has some people essentially saying they like your version better, it’s like... woah. But then, haha, it’s disappointing when you do it to yourself because then you watch the movies again and for a moment you’re like YE-! Oh, that’s right, none of that actually happened. *pout* XD}

The way she deflated before him was so heartbreaking that Basch felt physical pain in his chest. Soon that pain was written across his face as he seemed to care so much for her grief and disappointment that he nearly felt them himself. “I am so deeply sorry, dear lady...” Basch said gently. “I know quite well the pain that both grief and hope can bring. I am sorry to have stirred that pain in you. It was never my intention to hurt you.” But he had, and he felt utterly awful for it. “Nay, please, do not apologize. You did not know. It was an honest mistake, especially given that the one you seek has the ability to mimic others. I only wish that... your hope had been better rewarded. I am truly sorry.” 

When she asked to see his tongue, Basch was a bit confused, but he obliged her anyway. He supposed that maybe it was a culture difference at play, or that perhaps she had some sort of truth-telling magic she required line of sight to the tongue to cast. If truth was what she wanted, again, he was happy to oblige. “I am so sorry...” he whispered again as Mantis once again folded in on herself.  He smiled, albeit a bit sadly, when she yet again introduced herself. “It is an honor to meet you, Mantis. Please... if there is anything I can do to-”

But she was already asking him about finding someone called... Kevin Bacon? A man’s name, perhaps? If so, it was one Basch did not know. “Alas, I am not familiar with this individual. Nor do I know what Christmas is. Forgive me, I am not native to this land,” he tried to explain. Or this time period, but that would likely only confuse her further. “Perhaps I could assist you in locating him somehow?” he offered, but then he realized what she’d said. “Legendary... Star Lord?” Why was he legendary? If he was really so legendary, why had Basch never heard of him? “O’er what lands does he govern?” he asked, curious to know more about this supposed lord. He was unaware that men with titles such as “lord” still existed in this time period...

[one-steve-with-cheese-to-go]

Lord of the Abridged: Tower Power

Frodo - I miss Gandalf.

Sam - I am a packmule.

Gollum - I have somehow hunted the ring better than nine wraith assassins.

Frodo - I hate this ring.

Gollum - Gimme the ring!

Frodo - I’ll give you the Sting.

Gollum - Oh no.

Frodo - Gollum, lead us to Mordor.

Gollum - That’s a terrible idea.

Sam - That’s a terrible idea.

Frodo - This is a great idea.

Orcs - We’re taking the hobbits to Isengard!

Pippin - I want some nice crispy bacon.

Merry - I am sick.

Orcs - Here’s a homemade family recipe.

Merry - yucky.

Oruk - You’re yucky :(

Oruk - wait…

Oruk - ManFlesh!

Aragorn - They noticed my manflesh.

Gimli - This distance is physically twice for me as it is for everyone else. #DurinsFolkStruggles

Legolas - They’re taking the hobbits to Isengard!

Saruman - Nothing could possibly go wrong with the arrangement I have with my new best friend Sauron.

Sauron - I don’t know who that weird goth dude is but keep him a good ten feet from me.

Orcs - We demand rest!

Oruk - Damn unions.

Orcs - We demand good food!

Oruk - Let them eat cake.

Dave - I want to take a bite of a hobbit! A hobbite!

Oruk - Scum! *killing noises*

Dave - *getting killed noises*

Orcs - We demand Dave!

Oruk - You drive a hard bargain.

Merry - Crawly crawly.

Pippin - Sneaky sneaky.

Dave’s cousin also named Dave - I demand a hobbite!

Rohirrim - We’re a traveling play. Wanna see our act?

Orcs - *Dies*

Oruk - *Dies*

Hobbits - Cliffhanger!

Aragorn - We’ve been running all night.

Legolas - Man, I’d love to see a play.

Rohirrim - We’re a traveling play. Wanna see our act? All it needs is a dead dwarf.

Legolas - How dare you threaten the life of my best buddy in the whole wide world!

Aragorn - …

Rohirrim -…

The horses - …

Gimli -…

Aragorn - Have you seen some orcs? They’re taking the hobbits to Isengard.

Eomer - They’re dead. Dead as hell. If your kids were there, they’re dead too. We can’t tell the difference.

Aragorn - oh shit.

Legolas - oh shit.

Gimli - oh shit.

Witch king - *stubbed toe screeching*

Frodo - Oh no! It’s Mister Stabby!

Gollum - It’s cool. They suck at their jobs.

Witch king - *Screeches elsewhere*

Gollum - Don’t follow the lights.

Frodo - You’re not my mom.

Ghosts - Hey little halfling. Want some candy?

Frodo - I love candy!

Ghosts - Hahaha! It wasn’t candy at all!

Frodo - *Ghostly drowning noises*

Gollum - What did I just say?

Merry - Is Dave still chasing us?

Pippin - DAVE, ARE YOU STILL CHASING US?!?!

Merry - wtf, Pippin?

Dave - I’m still chasing you!

Treebeard - Gimme the hobbits.

Dave - *Roadkill noises*

Treebeard - I’m a tree with a beard! Guess my name!

Merry -…

Pippin - Dave?

Aragorn - Where’s the hobbits?

Gimli - I found a dead orc!

Aragorn - That’s not a hobbits!

Legolas - Ew don’t touch it.

Gandalf - I’m gonna scare the shit out of these three.

Gandalf - *Lightshow*

Aragorn - Holy shit!

Legolas - Holy shit!

Gimli - Holy shit!

Gandalf - Lmao. Let’s go to Rohan.

Theoden - mnmmnbnbmmmm.

Grima - He says he doesn’t like you.

Gandalf - Theoden? More like Theodumb.

Theodumb - bffbmmnm.

Grima - He says your shoes are raggedy and your staff looks like a pleasurable instrument.

Gandalf - wizardwhocantgetlaidsayswhat

Sarumon - What?

Gandalf - Lmao.

Saruman - PAIN!

Gandalf - PAIN!

Saruman - Egad!

Theoden - *Grasps his killing stick* I’m Theodone.

Grima - I’m Theodead.

Sarumon - If he wants pain, I’ll show him some pain.

Grima - How?

Sarumon - I’ve grown several thousand muscular, voracious hunks who will do anything I tell them.

Grima - Good for fighting?

Sarumon - …

Grima - For fighting, right?

Theoden - Let’s go to Helm’s Deep.

Aragorn - Yes, nothing could go wrong.

Gandalf - Deuces.

Gimli - I’ve had like five lines and zero agency in this movie so far.

Legolas - It’s hard being a princess. ✨✨

Aragorn - Hey you’re pretty good with that sword.

Eowyn - I will literally have your child right here in this hallway.

Legolas - :O

Gimli - :O

Sméagol - :O

Sarumon - :O

Morgoth - :O

Eru Illuvitar - :O

Tom Bombadil - :O

That one orc head on a spear - :O

Anyone with half a brain cell - :O

Aragorn - She seems nice.

Gollum - *Having a meltdown*

Gollum.exe has stopped working.

Gollum - Rebooting.

Sméagol - Sméagol.exe.

Sméagol - …

Sméagol - It’s wabbit season.

Orcs - We’re a traveling band! Wanna hear our latest single “Omnom”?

Rohan Soldiers - “Omnom”?

Wargs - Omnomnomnom!

Soldiers - *Fighting*

Eowyn - ManFlesh!

Aragorn - *To orc Uber* I will pay you to throw me off this cliff.

Orc taxi - A dollar’s a dollar!

Aragorn - *Flying king noises*

Sméagol - It’s fish season.

Gondorites - It’s little gremlin season.

Frodo - Hol up. He’s a little weird but he’s aight.

Faramir - I was going to kill you but didn’t. There’s no other information I can offer here that could improve future events.

Sméagol - *Dramatically* I’ve been betrayed!

Faramir - Tell me what I want to know.

Sméagol - Gollum.exe

Merry - Take the hobbits to Isengard!

Treebeard - No.

Merry - Aw man.

Treebeard - What’s this? Deforestation?! HRAGBLAGMIMGONNAKILLTHATLITTLESHIT!

Merry - Yay!

Treebeard - We all might die but that’s okay!

Merry - Y…yay?

Aragorn - *Dramatic Entrance*

Eowyn. - Take me right here.

Aragorn - Orcs.

Theoden - Orcs?!

Gimli - These are Uruk Hai!

Uruk - Uruk hi!

Theoden - So it begins.

It - *beginning*

Gimli - Two already!

Legolas - I’m on seventeen!

Gimli - That’s not fair fighting!

Legolas - :)

Gimli - Fighting, right?

5 days later:

Theoden - This is too much fighting!

Aragorn - Let’s fight some more.

Theoden - Sounds good bestie!

Gandalf - PAIN!

Eomer - PAAAAAAAAAAAIN!

Gandalf - Oh shit.

Orcs - Oh shit.

Treebeard - Orc mush! Mush orc!

Treesbeard - Reverse veganism!

Sarumon - Sauron pick me up I’m scared

Legolas - We’re alive!

Soldiers - We’re alive!

Eowyn - ManFlesh!

Aragorn - *hiding king noises*

Gandalf - That was close.

Frodo - Something just happened.

Faramir - Run little child thing. Be free.

Hobbits - *Scampering off*

Faramir - I feel like there’s something I forgot to do.

Later :

Gollum - I’m gonna murder these hobbits.

Credits

[dower]

Am I becoming a veggie?

Reading recently that the mysterious Octopus, with its three hearts and weirdly distributed brain, is now classified as a fully sentient being made me reconsider using the ocean's most intelligent creature as food stuff.

Not a great loss really, I've only had Octopus a few dozen times so calling time on a sentient being due to the absence of a humane slaughter method seems not a big deal.

Or the thin end of the wedge?

Reading in The Guardian about an upcoming animal welfare film, Pignorant, made me reflect more on the fundamentals of eating living animals. You see, in the UK most pigs are killed by high-dose CO2 to knock them dead then have their throats cut.

You don't really want to view the gassing process, the pigs desperately fighting for breath, the squealing, the panic, the twitching. It only takes a few minutes to complete but the fear and stress is off the scale.

And lord no, I don't want to see the throats being cut of pigs that come round from unsuccessful gassing. Jeez, that must take some stomach.

Can I give up bacon, sausages, pork pies, black pudding, sausage rolls, ham, gammon, chorizo? ... the list goes on.

Well, I could cut down with the aim to reduce consumption. So lets start by binning the less desirable stuff; sausage rolls, hotdogs, gammon, ham and bacon first. That leaves me good quality sausages, artisanal pork pies and scotch eggs, and black pudding. And let's aim for good pig welfare, if there is such a thing.

Oh, and definitely avoid crap like this:

INGREDIENTS: British Pork (93%), Water, Tapioca Starch, Salt, Rice Flour, Gram Flour, White Pepper, Nutmeg, Coriander, Ginger, Chilli Powder, Clove, Onion Powder, Sage, Stabiliser: Sodium Triphosphate; Yeast Extract, Preservative: Sodium Metabisulphite (Sulphites); Antioxidant: Ascorbic Acid; Maize Starch, Dextrose. Sausages filled into alginate casings.

That is not food, I've not even heard of much of that and it most definitely fails the "if any ingredient cannot be found in the kitchen, then avoid" test.

Veggie? Nah, not me, not yet - but certainly more animal friendly and better informed about animal welfare. And will I get preachy? Nope, definitely not. I wonder how long it will take for the missus to notice?

[tonkime]

Fire man quotes

#Fire man quotes full

Madder than a pack of wild dogs on a three legged cat. He couldn’t hit the ground if he fell twice!īusier than a one armed monkey with two peckers. Granny cooked enough supper to feed Pharoah’s Army. He was drunker than Cooter Brown on the 4th of july. She’s purtier than a mess of fried catfish. Nuttier than a port-a-potty at a peanut festival. Tighter than a skeeter’s ass in a nose dive. She’s wound up tighter than the girdle of a Baptist minister’s wife at an all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast. I’m having more fun than a tornado in a trailer park.īoy you got about as much sense as god gave a goose Madder than a one legged woman at the ihop. I’m so hungry, I’d eat the balls off a low flying duck!

#Fire man quotes full

I’d rather jump barefoot off a 6-foot step ladder into a 5 gallon bucket full of porcupines than… That’ll go over like a pregnant pole-vaulter. I’m happier than a punk in a pickle patch. He’s so stupid, he couldn’t find his ass with both hands.ĭon’t let the door hit ya where the good lord split ya. Your mother’s so stupid, she thinks cheerios are donut seeds! That’s harder than a choir boy in a porn shop She’s so ugly when she was a baby her mom fed her with a slingshot This old truck wouldn’t pull a slick prick out of a lard bucket. She has more chins than a Chinese phone book. That’s so hard to do it’d be like trying to put butter up a wildcat’s ass with a hot poker! Madder than a bobcat caught in a piss fire. Were closer than two roaches on a bacon bit. He’s ridin’ a gravy train on biscuit wheels.Īin’t no point in beatin’ a dead horse…’course, can’t hurt none either. That made my nuts draw up so tight you couldn’t reach them with knittin’ needles. That boy is about as sharp as a cue ball.Ĭan’t swing a dead cat without hitting a Wal-Mart. Slicker than a harpooned hippo on a banana tree. If a frog had wings he wouldn’t bump his butt when he hops. Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit! Well she’s finer than a frog hair split 8 ways!īusier then a one legged man in an ass kickin contest!!! Well dip my balls in sweet cream and squat me in a kitchen full of kittens. I’m as confused as a blind lesbian in fish market…. She was so ugly she could trick or treat over the telephoneĭarlin.You’re hotter than donut grease at a fat man convention. I am as nervous as a long tail cat in a room full of rocking chairs He fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down. Get Your Laugh on with these funny redneck sayings: