#i have a really old storybook of it that i got from my great grandma

[beelsjuicytitties]

ive had such major (pre)Birthday luck on this banner in nightbringer, ive gotten barbs ssr twice, belphies ur+ twice, and asmos ur+ three times. in 31 pulls. hello?? i feel so alive i think i might actually be able to get the ur memory card from the pop quiz

[impishnature]

Life Aboard The Stan’O’War

AO3

Sequel to The Light Keeper  The Adventure of A Lifetime,

Rating: T

Summary: The Stan twins are finally setting off on the adventure of a lifetime, both ready to face whatever the sea has to throw at them. Though, sometimes…. it might not be the sea they have to worry about. At least the Stan’O’War will weather whatever storms they find themselves sailing through. Lighthouse Keeper AU.

A series of oneshots.  

AN: There were too many cute conversations about this AU. I will write all the things. The next chapter is already up on patreon here. Come check it out!

Part 2: Casper

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For the most part, their sibling antics and arguments were just that - purely superficial and utterly playful in nature.

Neither of them meant any harm, Ford knew Stan was taking great glee in having him back to rile up in any way, shape or form and really, he couldn’t fault him for that.

After all, as much as part of him had to groan and roll his eyes at Stan’s mischief, he really did love being there with him too. And hearing Stan’s amazingly terrible puns was just part and parcel of the experience.

Not to mention as much as he would deny it to anyone listening, he gave as good as he got when he could.

It wasn’t one sided, the sibling banter and childish teasing that sent them both into almost affronted shock before the laughter set in. It was like they were children all over again, reliving the humour and antics they had once had then.

Two small kids left alone to their devices.

Of course they were going to get into trouble, egging one another on.

Of course they couldn’t help just trying to push the limits and tease relentlessly when nothing else was occupying their minds.

That was the way with siblings. Even ones that got on like a house on fire had their moments, their own inside jokes and silly remarks that no one else understood.

Unfortunately, in most instances, his nose was deep into his research giving his brother ample opportunity to come up with small quips and jabs that he really wasn’t expecting.

Even if in a lot of circumstances... he really should have seen them coming.

Stan had old favourites, after all. Ones that he just couldn’t seem to help himself from using especially when Ford left himself wide open.

“Are we almost there yet? You’ve been making me hike up this god damn mountain for hours now.”

Ford rolled his eyes for the two seconds he could afford to before his gaze darted back to the compass in one hand and the scribbled map in his journal in the other, trying to pinpoint the landmarks that he had noted down in miniscule writing wherever he could on the same page. “Stan, we haven’t even been walking for an hour yet, don’t exaggerate.”

“Exaggerate? You’re the one that’s gonna get us lost in the mountains looking for a place that doesn’t exist! So remind me again, who exactly is exaggerating?”

Ford huffed, turning to his brother with an irritated noise that was on the crest of being a snarl of a remark before he saw the soft smile on his face. He deflated with another roll of his eyes. “You know this place exists as well as I do, Stan.”

Stan shrugged, glancing around the landscape with a look of boredom. “Who knows, none of the people we asked at port had ever actually seen it. All word of mouth from their ‘great grandmas’ or ‘grandpas’ or whatever even older relative had managed to somehow tell the story.” He hunched his back over, glaring reproachfully at Ford with a pointing finger, eyes sparkling playfully behind the mock scowl. “Remember what I told you! You stay away from those woods at night, otherwise you might find the-” Stan paused, frowning thoughtfully before shrugging and continuing. “You might find the ghost town and never return! Just like your long lost Great Great Cousin Jimmy- or whatever his name was.”

Ford couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped him. “Really? You’ve forgotten the name of the town already?”

Stan’s grin only widened as he shrugged again, his entire demeanour playful and teasing. “What can I say? I didn’t see the point of remembering the name of a place that doesn’t exist. That’s for your storybook.”

“Oi! It’s a journal and you know it.” Ford scowled, clutching the item tight to his chest. “Besides, you’re one to talk.” He smirked, amusement bubbling up at his brother before with that final utterance, he turned back around, continuing his hike into the foliage.

“Wait? What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing.” Ford looked over his shoulder with a grin. “Just you seemed pretty serious when you listened to those ‘old wives tales’ when someone’s Grandma was actually there to tell you about them herself. And I’m also pretty sure you wouldn’t act so flippantly if it was Soos’s Abuelita who was telling you those stories. You seemed to take her stories to heart when you took me to meet her before we left.”

He turned forward yet again, hearing a defeated little huff of a noise from his brother.

“Yeah well, her stories about the lighthouse always hit a bit close to home. Wouldn’t have much common sense if I ignored her other stories, now would I?”

Ford hummed in agreement, letting the matter slide, done with his teasing now that Stan had admitted defeat. His brother came up to walk beside him, nudging his shoulder as he looked down at the journal between them.

“So? How far to this Imber then?”

“Oh? So you do remember then?” Ford raised an eyebrow as Stan nudged him again with a roll of his eyes.

“Of course I do, you haven’t stopped going on about this place for the last week. It’d be hard not to.” Stan sniffed, looking away from him. “Didn’t want you thinking I didn’t listen to ya. Even if I don’t always understand it all, I do try and listen.”

Ford hummed appreciatively, nudging him back. “Oh yeah? So what was that all about then?”

“Bored.” Stan’s grin turned cheeky, teeth gleaming brightly in a way very reminiscent of times when he’d stopped Ford from studying in a similar manner when they were a lot younger.

“Really? You’re bored? We’re about to find a ghost town that nobody has seen in decades and you’re bored?” Ford almost stopped but his feet kept propelling him forward, even as his face scrunched up in obvious confusion. “How on Earth can you be-”

“You stopped rambling not long after we started the trek.”

Ford did stop them, thrown for a loop as Stan continued to walk forward without even noticing. “I- what?”

Stan shrugged, stretching as he looked around the area. “I mean, not that I always get what you’re talking about but you stopped answering most of my questions a while back. Too engrossed in that map of yours. Thought something like that might pull you back to the world of the living again.”

Ford seemed lost for words as he glanced at his hands. “I- but I need to keep track of where we’re going.”

Stan hummed, smirking slightly as he shook his head. “Sure you do. So, come on Poindexter, which way are we headed?”

“North?” Ford blinked a few times owlishly as Stan nodded and continued through the plant growth, following the gesture that had accompanied Ford’s words. He shook his head, jumping to catch up and make sure they didn’t miss their next landmark as Stan hummed under his breath to himself, his boredom obviously sated. He waited a few more moments, running over the conversation in his head. “I take it that was a hint to interact more?”

Stan snorted at his choice of phrase. “What am I, a science project? It got quiet and I got bored, that’s all.” He eyed up Ford’s journal with a small amount of amusement. “Feel free to go back to your storybook now. I just wanted to make sure you were actually capable of hearing me.”

Ford shook his head, closing his eyes for a second in endearing irritation. Sometimes he forgot that Stan’s interests lay elsewhere and the thrill of a ghost town that by assumption could be completely and utterly empty held little in the way of intriguing his brother like it did himself.

Stan liked the hustle and bustle, the liveliness of their adventures- the monsters, the creatures, the treasure. This probably sounded as stuffy to him as them sitting in a library all day.

No monster in sight, no cursed treasure or people to save.

Just a mystery to solve, one long past and not quite as present as Stan needed to hook him in.

Though Ford was sure that even in these cases, usually his own enthusiasm could rub off on him if he worded it right, if he explained the mystery in the right terms to get Stan thinking about it instead of shutting down to his ramblings without even attempting to follow his train of thought.

He frowned thoughtfully, skimming back over their interactions over the last few days at port.

…Perhaps he hadn’t done enough of that this time round.

Sure, Stan had accompanied him as they spoke to people around town, listened intently to their warnings and half-forgotten tales, but he hadn’t been through the nearby records to find the other written accounts, the ones that added more and more mysteries to the remarks and made him all the more curious to get to the bottom of it all.

He shook himself when he felt Stan’s eyes on him, his face now slightly concerned and nervous, as if he thought he’d done something wrong and Ford couldn’t have that. “Noted.”

“Noted? What that you’re carrying a storybook? Cause you never usually agree-”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve used my research in the past, thank you very much.” Ford straightened his back, the snarky comment slipping through without help though he was glad for Stan’s returning grin at the words.

“Yeah- for the Mystery Shack, I needed some good fairy tales for that.”

Ford gave him a scathing look over the top of his glasses. “You know that’s not what I meant, Mr Lighthouse Keeper.”

Stan bit his lip, obviously trying not to laugh at the successful rise he was getting in response. “Alright, alright… one of your stories turned out to be real.”

Ford took a deep breath, biting down on his tongue as he looked back down at the compass to check they were going the right direction before walking straight ahead again, head held high as he brushed past his brother.

The silence didn't last long however, the words at the back of his throat refusing to be quashed. “And for the record, yes I am perfectly capable of hearing and getting us there at the same time.”

“Noted.” Stan parroted back good humouredly before going back to following behind his brother.

There were a few beats of silence before he spoke again, amusement in his words as if he wondered if Ford had zoned out again.

“Well I guess there’s only one way to find out. Next time I get bored I’ll just get the harmonica out instead of striking up a conversation.”

“Oh god no.” Ford turned to him, a look of almost horror on his face at the evil grin residing on his brother’s. Stan was actually quite good at the musical instrument if he put his mind to it.

‘If’ being the crucial part of that statement.

“Oh, you can hear me still. Good to know.”

Ford bit down on his lip to stop himself from joining in the childish antics and sticking his tongue out triumphantly. He instead threw the compass to his brother, watching him flail with it for a few seconds in perplexity before explaining. “Here, I’ll have the map, you have the compass. Good way to keep you occupied?”

As much as Ford expected some kind of annoyed response at the sudden responsibility, his brother seemed taken aback by the notion, eyes going between the compass and Ford with little twitching movements.

“You really trust me with that?”

Ford’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“I mean, I’m not actually trying to distract you from navigating or anything. Just-” Stan gestured widely albeit uselessly before looking down almost hopefully at the compass. “You know?”

“Yeah, I know.” The quiet didn’t suit Stan. “And yes I trust you to use a compass. So, how about I get out of my head and you stop being a distraction and we both work towards us getting there?”

Stan beamed, the most genuine smile of the day. “Sounds like a plan! Lead the way, Sixer, what are we looking for?”

“OK, so, we need to go North until we see…” Ford stood close to him, pulling the map out for both of them to see as he pinpointed the trail they needed to take and the next landmark they needed to keep an eye out for.

He knew the journey would be slower going this way, even with the extra pair of eyes.

But really, even he had to admit, it was a lot more fun from that point onwards.

“Is this it? Are we actually here?” Ford could feel the excitement coming off of him in waves, could hear the snort of pure amusement from his brother as his eyes no doubt lit up as they ran gleefully over the derelict old buildings covered in thick trailing vines that seemed to bend and crack them further into distorted versions of their former selves.

A sight no one had seen for so long and here they were, ready to document everything possible. To shed light on everything that had happened there.

When there was no response, just a warm good natured amusement beside him, his mouth ran away with him.

“Come on, Stanley! This is it! This is the Ghost Town we’ve been looking for! Aren’t you even the tiniest bit intrigued?”

“It’s not a Ghost Town.”

Ford blinked, taking a quick step back. His mind raced ahead, eyes now scanning for forms of life, expecting to see whatever Stan had seen. Nothing seemed to catch his eye though, no movement, no lights. He opened his mouth to say as much, his face scrunching up in confusion as he tried his best to gather whatever Stan had.

But before the words had even made it up his throat he felt a sudden sharp shove to his back.

He stumbled forward a few paces, past the threshold into the town, his demeanour changing instantly. Due to a few of their fast paced adventures already he caught himself quickly, spinning around as he slipped to find the culprit, eyes narrow and face serious, hand twitching to the weapon at his hip.

Until all he found was a pondering, thoughtful Stan, whose mouth kept twitching into the grin he was so desperately trying to hide. “Stan? What-?”

“Oh, guess I was wrong.”

“What?”

Stan’s pondering mask cracked even further, a rumble of chuckles escaping him along with the words. “Well, now it’s a Ghost Town.”

Ford continued to stare at him for a few moments, lost to his brother’s whims until it all hit him in one fell swoop, his body relaxing even as a deep disappointed groan escaped him. “Really? How long have you been waiting to use that particular joke? Since we started looking for this place or on the walk up here?”

Stan shrugged, eyes alight with mischief. “Who knows, I’ve always got a joke up my sleeve, you know that.”

“Well I hope you didn’t spend too long thinking up that one.” Ford did indulge in some childish behaviour this time, sticking his tongue out petulantly, though it only seemed to add to Stan’s glee.

“Aww, don’t be like that. Casper’s a classic joke!”

“If you say so.” Ford grumbled under his breath, tuning out the near constant giggles that were now erupting out of Stan. Instead he focused on his equipment, getting out the anomaly detectors and other small creations he’d fashioned just for the occasion.

They walked deeper into the town, finding a small well-trodden path through the buildings that had become overrun with brambles. The entire area had been lost to time and though he itched to enter the buildings, he thought it best to give the entire place a quick scan first, marking down a crude map to find their route back the way that had come again if need be as they went.

The small machine in his hand gave a sudden sharp beep, Ford stopping in his tracks as he waited for it to continue. A hushed excited whisper left him as he turned back to his brother who was giving him a small curious tilt of the head as he waited expectantly. “Stan.” He could almost feel himself buzzing at the thought as he brought the piece of equipment up for his brother to see, his voice still quiet and exuberant. “There’s a presence nearby!”

“A ghostly presence?”

Ford nodded happily, exasperated by Stan’s slow uptake. “Yes, if you like. A ghostly presence nearby.”

“There’s always a ghostly presence nearby, Casper.” Stan spoke at a normal volume though it sounded loud and reverberating through Ford’s hissing words. “You made sure to set your equipment accordingly, right? Don’t wanna skew the findings with your own ghostliness, now do you?”

“God damn it, Stanley!”

“What? I’m just saying-”

“Will you take this seriously?!”

“Now, why would I do that? You’re taking it seriously enough for the both of us.”

As much as he really wanted to be annoyed at the constant barrage of jokes, he couldn’t seem to stop his mouth twitching upwards at Stan’s booming heady laughter behind him, slap bang in the middle of the echoing stone cold atmosphere of the abandoned place they’d found themselves in.

Stood in the middle of a possibly haunted town and Stan was giggling like they were at a terrible tourist attraction.

Trust Stan to take it all lightly, it had kept them going for this long.

And really, he’d rather this outright refusal to be serious than the cautious nervous shell that his brother had been when he’d asked him to go sailing in the first place.

It was good to have him back, in all his childish glory.

Even if that meant dealing with his frankly terrible jokes.

.

AN: ALL THE FLUFF! ALL THE PUNS 8D HAPPY GRUNKS

[deepintoforestwego]

Cold comes and goes, love remains chapter 2:Bright summer breaking

Also on AO3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/11645550/chapters/28743168

When she came back, Gerda tried to forget her journey, because it reminded her of things she lost. Of years, almost decade spent traveling over world, with no friend but animals to guide her, of long months when she had nothing but her wits and few coins to get her by.

Memories of her childhood faded, and one by one she forgot all friends she had, until only one left was Kai, his name burning bright in very depths of her soul, her friend and brother by heart, with whom she was raised together, who changed one year into a unsufferable, horrible brat while everybody (mostly men) praised him for maturity, who stamped flowers and tore picture books and  mocked grandmothers and refused to be friend with girl like her and who got in tasteless pranks with rougher, older boys.

But she remembered cheerful, curious, smart, easily excited and little shy boy from before, boy who loved her as sister, and she  hoped that she could beat sense in him, that she could make him not change, but return to previous Kai. And that hope held her through magic and dangers and storms.

Somebody would have  said such hope was useless. That she should have given up.  That it was wise, logical, rational, sane, only correct course of action.

Gerda would smirk and point at two of them as living proof of  opposite.

Shard in eye, shard in heart. That was what it took to twist Kai, to steal him away, to hate everything but logic and numbers and snow. Magic, to steal him away and twist him so he could be a toy to somebody cruel and cold as The Queen. But Gerda’s faith and tears and  prayers won against that brutal, wicked magic.

That made her afraid of her own power, though it was only power of understanding and speaking, not of ruining and harming. What if she stole somebody away like that?

Gerda is his best friend, his sister, his soulmate-not some grand lady from romances that will make him burn with passion (he isn’t sure whether he can at all), but somebody on whom he can count to stand by him no matter what, friend who will always find him and set him at right path whether he likes it or not.

Before that he was always withdrawn child, the adopted grandson of  old spinner from up in street. When  he was younger, he asked grandmother about his parents, and she  quickly came up with some story he doesn’t remember, but soon he found out truth. Whispers of neighbors never stop, and children are much better listeners  than most adults suppose.

No parents, raised by kooky old lady, weird boy who shrank from contact unless he was asking ridiculous question like why sky was blue or moon changed phases, who loved to go to school and read storybooks and plant flowers (and snow, he loved winter, but not making snowmen or riding at sledges, and he wonders if she had always been calling out to him, if he learned to see her only after he learnt who she was). Gerda was his only friend, kind Gerda whom everybody loved.

And then he changed and became arrogant, entitled fool who thought himself above her, and he believed it so strongly that even other children and adults believed it, and he showed his intellect by being condescensing which was only way some people recognized it and he forgot her while she....

He needs to pay Gerda back everything she did for him tenfold.

It wasn’t her work, he knows that. Gerda may not believe it, but he knows  the Snow Queen  did nothing to him to turn him against Gerda. Magic of those shards cursed him, but it wasn’t solely responsible. It took parts, components that were already within him and made him into idiot he became. But wherever that magic came from it wasn’t from Snow Queen.

It was spring when shards struck him. And there is cold even in spring, but she doesn’t do major workings in that period. Winter is her time, her domain, her child, when Earth is far enough from Sun (never truly enough, it is so small, nothing is enough, not planet or galaxy or dimension or reality or multiverse, nothing can contain Her, this power eider then world) that light and heat are slow to come and hard to find that her reach is longest (on Earth anyway). She wouldn’t have bothered infringing on land in spring because there are Rules and she must follow them.

But even were it winter it couldn’t have been her work. Magic of those shards was familiar as if he grew up with them, every wicked deed he ever witnessed,  solid, heavy thing, like a stone upon heart, sweetly disgusting smell of rotting food, decadent laughter of madman, feel of thick, greasy oil covering him, bathing his skin in pitch and filling his lungs with smoke. Her magic was always simple, essential cold-cold till the bone, all cold of all world and none, cold at it’s purest form, something that couldn’t be touched but still felt, and ancient and alien.

And it wasn’t within her domain, her nature, her right. Power of those shards was to corrupt, to twist and lie and muddle mind, wisewomen who helped Gerda told them. Her power was to freeze and take away and bend time and space. Great power, but she had no dominion over matters of heart and morality she didn’t, couldn’t understand.

If anybody was to blame it was him- magic couldn’t corrupt him if seed already wasn’t there, if soil  wasn’t proper, fertile and watered.

(Why does then her power dwell so easily within him, then?)

Princess-queen Astrid now- loves her friend, truly, but Gerda can be so  thickheaded and stubborn and it is just as endearing as it is annoying.

Really, Gerda and her entire family, nay half of her town could move in palace without problem-gods know that two thirds of those rooms aren’t used at all, and having useless things laying around is stupid especially if those are rooms which you can’t throw out. Their palace was built to survive wars and sieges, it can hold four people more. And it’s not as if they would be problem to staff- Astrid  had always believed that if somebody dared imply thousand people moving in would put minor strain on work quality they would be dismembered by army of offended maids and cooks.

And money wouldn’t even be a problem! Gerda wouldn’t have to bother with a small flower shop (which means struggling to get food in winter),  her grandmothers wouldn’t have to  spent their retirement knitting  and sewing things to exchange with neighbors for bare neccesities (those arthritic fingers shouldn’t work so much), Kai wouldn’t have to hop between hundred jobs while trying to become professor of math at university ( nobody will accept him, even if he was king himself, even if his knowledge is so wide and great that it hurts her head just from looking at equations he writes, nobody will hire professor with voice like icicles stabbing earbuds, whose every movement makes their eyes want to bleed, whose presence is like frostbite across skin).

And wouldn’t it be better  for everybody to have their own suite then to to try to fit in one or two apartments? To  live free and unrestrained instead of constantly worrying? Gerda shouldn’t be turning down such opportunities out of humility ( which is stupid concept  old pastors made up to control poor masses anyway), shouldn’t  refuse to make her life easier out of fear she will seem like bad friend, because Astrid is giving it all freely.

Gerda smiles, shakes her head, golden  curls bouncing up and down as she pats her friend’s hand and eats few more chestnuts.

‘’Thank you a lot, Astrid, but it isn’t necessary. Why, palace life, it’s a great honor, but it isn’t for us.’’ It is too much and too little for Gerda. Too big and detailed and opulent to be tasteful for her liking, and not enough  work or community for her liking.

Grandmas would never accept- they have lived in their town their entire life, let roots deeper then those of ancient oaks grow, and anyway even if they came over they would refuse to be kept out of kitchens and those are too far away, with too many stairs for their years.

Kai would follow if she  asked, but it is easier to live in apartment everybody agrees to be small then in what others call grand palace and you see nothing but mice’s hole.

And anyway, no matter how many years have passed, those two small flats are still their homes, and they won’t leave them.

‘’Exactly! I never get why humans insist on all that pomp and everything. Simple enst is all you need.’’ Mrs. Raven says, and both are careful not to point out that few years ago she was a tame crow (foolish human thought-crows can never be tamed, even if they sit on silken pillows and drink tea).

Astrid is kind, smart and well-meaning, but she doesn’t understand much about different lives, and she sighs as she raises her hands to sky while Gerda chuckles.

‘’Now, now, don’t be like that.’’ She is starting to sound like her grandmother.

‘’I just want to help you. Is there anything I can do for my best friend.’’ Astrid’s heart beats like rabbit’s as she sees thoughtful frown come over Gerda’s lips.

‘’ Well, there is something... but I don’t know if it is too much, or even possible...’’ Children are learning to write from families and friends but there are great gaps in that knowledge, she realized over years. And how many of them could become doctors and artists and so many wonderful things if given chance- all kinds of work are important, but it leaves bitter taste in her mouth when she sees bright girls and boys forced to become shopkeepers and  coach drivers because they weren’t able to apply for anything else.

‘’If it isn’t possible, I will accomplish it anyway. Go on.’’ Finalyy. What is use being queen if you can’t do something grand for your best friend.

‘’Have you ever considered making schooling mandatory for all children?’’ One looks in Astrid’s eyes tells her it is already finished in queen’s mind.

‘’Astrid, slow down, where are you leading me, Astrid are you listening?!’’ Gerda screamed as Astrid dragged her through multiple corridors Gerda couldn’t keep track of. Astrid spent last several days alternating from  manically planning system of schooling and  insisting on longer visits.

‘’Astrid I really-oh my God.’’ Breath leaves her as Astrid pushes doors open, leading her into glasshouse as big as...as... as her and Kai’s apartments together at least.  Sun is breaking through transparent walls, breaking in array of colors, her nose awash in smell of thousand different flowers, her ears filled with symphony of garden, of rustling of trees, moaning of bushes, screaming of violets, giggling of roses, whispering of hyacinths, humming of narcissuses, roars of lilies, hundreds of plants strewn in front of her like forest, grass below her thrumming with joy as if it is about to dance.

‘’So how do you like it? You said our gardens are poor and I thought you would like a big one, with all flowers you said were you favorites. I don’t really get what is  so great about trees but I hope you..’’ Gerda runs and coils her arm around queen, rising Astrid off the ground.

‘’like...Ge-Gerda...Gerda  you are crushing me.’’

‘’You aren’t really good at this, are you?’’ The man (not king, never king, just as his wife isn’t queen, it hurts even to think so, what king can die from time and knife, what king cannot  build palace in single day and bring army from void, what king cannot shatter mountains and rearrange constellations) asks, laugh on his lips while he raises dozen rabbits and birds he caught in last fifteen minutes.

‘’You know how it is with us mathematicians. Locked up in room all day,  no muscles and no  proper sight.’’ It dances on border of lie, and Kai feels buzz in his ears and pounding in his skull, but it isn’t truly false-he said nothing about himself specifically, just hinted at stereotype that could mayeb apply to him.

(It is no proper hunt, with horses and knives and bows and arrows. No proper hunt, chasing after animals with weapons and tools. True hunts, wild hunts ride across sky and sea with nothing but their own power, chasing their equals until they consume each other.

And to hunt animals with  things like that... that is almost cheating. Kai remembers being deer  and butterfly and eagle and wolf and snake and tree and wind and boulder and dragon and river, remembers tearing across mountains and plains chasing his prey, blood warm but not hot enough to lessen cold living in his bones flowing between his fangs, his maws as he ate hearts and stood across carcasses he made, Queen next to him, sharing shape, teaching her pup or chick or seed or raindrop how to kill and feed).

‘’Hahahaha! You are right. I think this suits you then, right? You need some activity or you’’ll forget how  to walk.’’ The man puts his hand on Kai’s shoulder and quickly, though he is trying to be subtle, pulls it off- deep, deep down his bones cry out feeling something wrong and else flowing through Kai’s body like wind or tide even though his clothing is thick as palm.

‘’ If there were not Gerda to pull me outside home, I would most likely forget to coem out to eat at all.’’ Truth, he forgets to do it even now, just as he forgets to sleep or breathe or let his heart beat sometimes. But were it not for Gerda and grandmas he would leave tiny, tight flat and run and run and run up to Sun and he wouldn’t burn, he would shred this form and become one with air and stone and chill and snow and her.

‘’Kai...’’ His companion starts after silence long exactly three minutes, twenty seven seconds and thirty three microseconds, voice slow and hesitant, eyes swirling and brow almost sweating ( he thankfully doesn’t notice how still Kai’s horse is, how it is trying to rein in it’s instincts to run and scream and jump to death sooner then allowing this thing to get close).

‘’As you know, I was raised in an orphanage. It was nice place, I made lot of friends who were like kin to me, and caretakers were some of best people I had pleasure of knowing. I don’t want to complain. I was happy. But it may sound like something from some bad novel written just to make people cry, and maybe I’m just imagining it, but I always felt I missed something, you know? ‘’ He asks, eyes looking far away, lost in memories.

‘’I get it.’’ ’’ He does and he doesn’t. He never felt he lost something by not having parents. Logically, rationally, with cold, stoic mind he wondered about them sometimes, but he never felt pain at thought of them. But feeling of loss, he knew that- he always searched learned, listened because he needed to fill up something  inside of him (and since he came back, he hungered, starved from this small, mortal, almost magicless world). But his companion never asked what exactly Kai was missing.

‘’Well, I was digging through a little last few years, asking things, trying to find my parents. I learned that I was brought to orphanage by young woman, and that after she left me she departed for part of country your home is located. She...she had another baby with her, and I thought since we look so similar, and are same age... maybe we could be...would you be interested in finding out?’’ He asks, so hopeful and scared. Kai closes his eyes.

He listens to chirping of birds, autumn leaves crunched under hooves, breathing of horses, few leaves that haven’t still fallen to ground fluttering in wind like butterflies, barely holding on, to bugs creeping over skin of trunks and small animals running through bushes, and thinks of his grandmother, small and lean, laughing, coughing, feeding him soup and telling him jokes as he is ill, singing him lullabies when he had nightmares, listening to him ramble about books he wanted to read.

He runs his tongue over his sharp sharp teeth, tastes cold, clear saliva, the sweets stuck between pale teeth, the echo of apples and cinnamons from pie he ate before going to hut, the crisp, clean air of autumn, and thinks of Gerda’s grandmother, of stories she told them, of cakes she baked when she had time and ingredients, of sweaters she knit.

He smells rich, harsh blood falling from necks of birds, the smoke carried from kitchen by wind, flowers in glasshouse, few remaining, rotting  fruits, and thinks of Gerda, Gerda with her beautiful, shining smile, Gerda who leads her shop with natural ease and makes whole town happy, Gerda who never lost faith in him after everything and traveled so far for his sake, Gerda who prayed to God and he answered with army of angels, Gerda who could have left him to become witch or noble or robber but didn’t, Gerda who deserves so much, Gerda who is best that ever happened to him.

And he knows he needs no more love then what they have given him though they are no kin by blood and bone.

And he feels chill of upcoming winter in air and earth, cold that covers all of their skins, power predating time buried deep within him, feels her concerned voice in whisper of wind, her two kisses in blood flowing through his veins, her soft touches in winter dwelling in his bones, sees  mountains and seas growing from her back, her face like polar night, her hair like northern lights, remembers way she was so gentle and caring with him though she could have crushed him with a though (and it took her effort, he knows, to remember he was mortal and weak and fragile, more effort to keep him in one piece then it would take  to break him) and knows she is here now, living and flowing through his being.

Knows he is more her son then blood could ever make them.

‘’I’m sorry.’’ He says, soft, not meeting his companion’s eyes (brown and warm, always, as his used to be, not blue of frozen lake or white of bleached bones or red as guts on snow or black as moonless night or pale pastel of aurora).

‘’I understand, but I don’t wish to. I... I don’t want to. They left me and that is it for me. I have Gerda and grandmothers and that is enough for me. i don’t want to think about what could have been.’’ The man next to him nods with smile and  sparkle of tears in eyes.

‘’I get it. Sorry for bothering you.’’ He says with wide, wide smile.

‘’I’m sorry.’’ He doesn’t know what else to say, but it is true.

‘’Don’t apologize. I should be one doing that. I just hope this isn’t going to make things awkward.’’ Tears  don’t spill from corners of his eyes, which is good for he is to be consort or ruler (human rulers need to keep their pain locked away from public. True rulers cannot be bothered by feelings in their purpose, and if they showed it nobody would dare comment on it, much less use it against them).

‘’It won’t.’’ He says, and his  tongue doesn’t rot.

They ride back in silence. Kai pretends not to notice tears in corners of other’s eyes, and he pretends not to notice frost caressing Kai’s dark skin.

Astrid stumbles on chair, her head almost falling down and hitting table as she sighs. Gerda puts down her watering can and moves over tos it next to her friend, summer sun making Astrid’s hair glow like fire.

‘’Problem?’’ She asks, though it’s obvious.

‘’Yes.’’ Astrid says, gobbling up fruits next to her.

‘’Anything I can help with?’’ Gerda asks, though she doubts- but you never know.

‘’Can you find me every magic user in kingdom and convince them to have talk about them?’’ Her friend speaks, propping up her head with her hands, elbows on table.

‘’Why?’’ Gerda thankfully doesn’t shout- she isn’t afraid of her gift anymore, nor off shadows dancing in night over castle, nor of frost that follows Kai, but old tales of witches and ruined crops and deals with devil still follow her.

‘’We need to deal with them! Half of them pay lip service to crown, living locked in their  towers, not coming out for years then playing court magicians, while other half is hiding like hermits until they come out of woodwork to curse and meddle in other people’s lives! And my subjects are always talking about witch hunts and sins but when trouble comes start running off to witches and wizards! And there children who can do magics but can’t control them, children who can do strange but wonderful things and may hurt themselves or others or may be hurt by others, children...’’ Like her, she who made shadows of her dreams ride whenever she slept.

‘’I wanted to meet some, to talk, establish new laws, maybe even school. But I know nothing about it! Nothing but fairytales!’’ And Gerda could see how it irked her, how she she hated being left in darkness.

‘’And none of magicians may family has nominal contact with answered me!’’ Gerda thought over that. It was possible that those wizards and witches were unwilling to help, believing their positions would be threatened if knowledge of magic was common and not all sorcerers were privileged and safe as them.

Or they could have learnt what happens to  their kind when royals start calling hard way.

‘’You know what Astrid?’’ Gerda said, trying not to make her voice shiver, to forget images of naked crones and dancing evils she saw in macabre portraits and imagined  in her mind so many times, of year stolen and memories changed.

‘’I think I can help you with that.’’ Well, she was already planning on visiting that garden anyway.

‘’What are we doing rowing a boat trying to find house when you don’t even remember where it was?’’

‘’I already told you, searching for that spring witch.’’

‘’Are you sure we will find her at all?’’

‘’We asked river!’’

‘’Same river who brought you to spring witch when you asked it to find me.’’

‘’It got confused!’’

‘’Then it owes you your shoes back! You can’t take payment if you don’t fulfill your end of bargain! Why did you even give them away?’’

‘’I don’t know. They seemed like only valuable stuff I had at time. Now that I think, what would river do with them at all?’’

‘’Humph. When we are finished with this we are getting them back. And mine too if this doesn’t work out.’’

‘’Kai it’s been more than decade, those shoes must have fallen to pieces.’’

‘’Well then it is still going to give them back!’’

‘’Are you really going to argue with a river over shoes?’’

‘’It’s not about shoes it’s about principles! It can’t flow around and cheat people out of their rightful bargains! And it asked for shoes, not even a firstborn...’’

‘’Good thing I don’t intend on having children ever.’’

‘’Don’t count on it, it’s magic, you will get pregnant from sipping tea or something like that of you make such bargain.’’

‘’And if I aborted or miscarried?’’

‘’Now that merits some investigation. We must research how far we can stretch definition of firstborn...’’

Garden is as beautiful as ever. Countless flowers eternally blooming, never wilting, their smell delicious but not too strong, tapestry of thousand colors and thousand stories whispered on wind. It is same as all those years ago.

After moment of hesitation Gerda knocks on wooden doors. Knocker is old, heavy iron circle, so big Gerda’s fingers almost can’t wrap around it. Sound is soft and dull, and it takes time before Gerda hears shuffling of skirts and slow steps.

Door opens,  and woman comes out, bent and wrinkled, her dress all purple and red and yellow that pricks eyes with it’s vibrancy, her straw hat filled with fat blossoms, petals trailing after her. Her thin lips raise in weak smile that freezes when she sees Gerda, who is honestly surprised old woman alive.

‘’I’m Gerda. Do you remember me?’’ She asks, voice almost trembling, because this woman enchanted her for almost a year but was also so kind and it doesn’t absolve anything but she looks so weak and pathetic and sad but she is a witch but she has nothing but her flowers and Kai stands behind her in silent support and to take care of witch if something happens (flowers next to him are covered with glossy white sheen and shatter like glass, verdant grass turns in black dust as his blood dances and giggles and enchantment shatter under avalanche of freezing magic he exudes).

‘’Yes. Yes I do.’’ Woman whispers, voice breaking and hands shaking.

‘’Do you remember what you did to me? How you played with my life and mind? How you trapped me?’’ Woman’s face is pale, her hair falling out as she nods.

‘’I-I, yes. I charmed you, kept you-like a toy, a pet.’’ She admits, unable to meet Gerda’s eyes

‘’I think you owe something for that.’’ Gerda says, fighting to keep her face harsh and strong, because woman may have been nice and lonely but she still trapped Gerda, would have kept her there forever, trapped in lie and dream.

‘’Yes.’’ Old woman says, kneeling before Gerda, stretching her neck out as Gerda’s eyes grow wide.

‘’Please... I know I have no right, but please make it quick.’’ Her voice os soft like crushed petals, tears rolling down her cheeks like morning dew.

‘’What? No! Why would I kill you?’’ Gerda screams, catching woman by fragile, stiff shoulders with her big, strong hands.

‘’I...’’ Woman’s eyes are rolling, confused, her face pale and her whole body shivering, her breathing slow as if it will almost forget to do it. ‘’I charmed you.’’ She says, remembering parents who cast her out in woods once they saw how she could make flowers bloom in autumn,  friends that hit her with stick and stones once they saw words she could coax out of petals, town and employers and random street passerbies chasing her , a witch, conjurer, though she never cursed somebody, and now that she did she knew that death was only thing awaiting her.

‘’You did, and I’m still angry about it, but I would never execute you. Death never solves anything.’’ Kai smiles next to her even as cold in him is puzzled, saying you do not have to worry about problem if problem is dead.

‘’But how then...’’ She was lonely, so lonely for thirty years, and more then likely not all right in head, but it doesn’t justify anything, she must repay this girl who she violated in such way.

‘’You are going to pay for that by helping me, and others too. You will teach me to understand magic.’’ The entire garden goes silent on that.

The lessons start, talks and books and letters sent to queen.

‘’Magic is natural, part of world as anything else, like sea or sky. We all have little of it in ourselves, like breath or blood, and so everything can use magic. But some are born with talent, like singers or dancers, so it goes easier for them.’’

‘’Magic isn’t good or evil. It isn’t anything. It is part of world and it all depends on how you use it. You can use it for anything, for good or evil or nothing, for fun or work or art. It is tool like any other, thought often more dangerous.’’

‘’No magic user is same. There are some rough definitions, but everybody works with magic in their own way.  magic answers and is fueled by your emotions. We are born with some things we can’t change at will, just as you can’t change shape of your face or sound of your voice by will, but how we apply them depends on you. Some people use magic from inside of them, others  draw it from outside. I heard there are different ways to command it but I don’t know much about it. I could ask few  acquintances I know for help.’’

‘’Could you spread word about our plans? It would be most helpful?.’’

‘’Of course. It would be honor. In fact I have one mirror I can use to communicate with  people.’’

‘’How does it work?’’

‘’I don’t know how spells that made it operate, but I simply state person who I want to talk with and it shows them to me, and my face in nearest reflective surface.’’

‘’How long is it’s reach.’’

‘’High quality. Entire country. Why are you asking?’’

‘’I met two wise women on my travels who I think could help us. And they helped me much, and I would like to reestablish contact with them.’’

‘’Very well. They surely have some important knowledge. You two are making such great plans already, you and queen.’’

‘’How do you use magic?’’

‘’ With words, amulets, signs. It all depends on your practice. You can’t just wish something to happen though. You must first have proper concentration and harness strength of your emotions. Then you must feel magic, take it and shape it in correct design, then release it with incanations, movements and focuses like wands and potions and similar. Even gifts take that.’’

‘’Gifts?’’

‘’They are like.. talents, or predispositions for magic. No, that’s not good...Better like, unconscious spells you can accidentally cast. Like me being able to make plants grow and sustain them through year, or you talking with birds and plants, or queen’s dreams. All people develop one after they start practicing magic seriously, but some are born with them. Usually it’s just two, but some people have just one or up to three.’’

‘’And that’s how all magic works? You can’t just wave your fingers and change things?’’

‘’Well no. It’s process, something to be studied and learned. Maybe you could accomplish something like that after decades of intense study, but not easily and not at first. magic is like sea, I told you. Humans can swim but it doesn’t come naturally to us, and we can’t breathe underwater. You have to train it, and if you aren’t careful or  lucky you can drown.’’

‘’And are there like...magic fishes? To extend metaphor?’’

‘’Hmmm. There are some, yes. Dragons and unicorns and talking animals. They too have to learn magic like humans, but it comes easier to them, and they’ve got some additional abilities. That’s why my flowers can talk, or why dragons can breathe fire. They have got more magic then us and better endurance, but if they go out of their places or waves take them they will too be crushed.’’

‘’Is... is the Snow Queen like that? Like a dragon?’’ The wind that flows through is bit colder and colors are paler.

‘’Ah...no, not at all. She is kind of magic you thought of, kind you find in legends- she wishes something to happen and it does.’’

‘’But how? You said magic takes practice and rituals and rules.’’

‘’For mortals yes.’’’

‘’She isn’t mortal? then what is she?’’

‘’If magic is sea, and we witches are divers, and magical creatures are fishes, she is then water. She is magic, ancient and cold, and nothing else. She cannot be challenged  or fought anymore then winter or storm can be.’’

‘’And yet you won, you brave woman. You defeated season Gerda. How’s that for bragging rights?’’

It is hot and they are on market when Gerda and Kai hear it, screaming and shattering coming from other side, and as town’s self-proclaimed peacekeeper Gerda has to investigate, running across street with her groceries.

She stops in tracks when she arrives.

there she is, her robber girl-not a girl anymore, though she is still little, thin but muscled thing, her hair and skin and eyes dark and warm as her patched up leather trousers, pistols at ehr belt. She is predictably arguing with an older pale man, spewing angry curses  that make Gerda go red just from hearing them ( but not as red as those of widow who visits her flower shop every Friday).

Stunned she walks up to two of them. Man is first to notice her.

‘’Ah miss Gerda sorry for trouble!’’ he apologizes as if it is her marketplace.

‘’Gerda??’’ Her friend (or maybe something more) asks, eyes big and staring, in uncertain voice, looking as puzzled and uncomfortable as Gerda (shit shit shit this wasn’t how she imagined their reunion oh fuck of all things just great) who snaps out of it and draws her in big hug to surprise of man next to her, then kisses both of  her cheeks.

‘’My dear how I missed you!’’ She says with overly sweet voice. ‘’What are you doing here? Why didn’t you send a letter?’’ Not like she knew address but still her friend catches on it.

‘’Well I would have but I wanted to surprise you, which would have worked  if some god forsaken idiots didn’t keep me from trying to find your house.’’ It may be truth for all Gerda knows, and she pray her blush isn’t obvious.

‘’You little-!’’ Man raises his voice but shuts up when Gerda glares at him.

‘’May I know what this is about?’’

‘’He accused me of stealing!’’ Which she stopped doing years ago and anyway she wouldn’t be stealing from such people. She is from line of proffesional robbers, ones that rob kings and banks not poor merchants from small towns.

‘’My  food went missing just when she showed up!’’

‘’And where would I put it you stupid-‘’

‘’See how she insults me? She wouldn’t be so angry if she had done nothing!’’

‘’You are accusing me without reason of course I’m pissed-‘’

‘’You lying sack of-’’’

‘’You disgusting pig-‘’

‘’Ahem. Sorry to interrupt you, but mister did you notice your horse eating your fruits?’’

‘’What? I-oh.’’

‘’Aha! See!’’

‘’I-I thought-‘’

‘’You owe my friend apology mister.’’

‘’Let him keep it. Empty words mean nothing. Just think twice about accusing somebody next time.’’ She laughs as man quickly leaves, and two of them are left staring at each other-or better said trying not to.

‘’so how are you..’’

‘’What are you doing...’’

‘’Travelling little you know..’’

‘’On market with ..Kai!’’ she calls out for help. he grins, his teeth blinding on light of sun and runs with groceries in his hands.

‘’Hi Gerda! got to carry this back to grandmothers, please show your friend around! Don’t worry about coming late.’’

Gerda considered killing her best friend at that point.

Former robber next to her however found that her opinion of Kai had dramatically increased.

[rtirman-blog]

31   The Summer’s End - Back to                    Notre Dame

The rest of that summer, Sally and I were together whenever I was not at the pool.  It was not as though we couldn’t live without one another, and I can’t speak for her, but we liked being together.  My time to return to school was quickly approaching, and I didn’t want this to be viewed as a “summer romance.”   I did not relish the thought of leaving her, but I also knew my education was important.  So I never gave serious thought to doing anything else but returning to South Bend.

 One of the things Sally shared with me that summer was her religious affiliation.  She was Jewish.  Not only that, she was the first Jewish girl in Nassau County to celebrate her bat mitzvah, which, in Judaism marks an age of maturity when a child becomes more responsible and accountable for her own actions.  Actually, I think she was the first girl to do that in the whole State of New York.  In my mind, her religious history bonded us. I did share with her everything I knew about my family.  We were perfect for each other.

 The day I left to go back to school was harder to go through than a funeral of a loved one…even though I had yet to really lose a loved one.  When I was eight years old, Mom, my grandmother died after years of battling breast cancer. The only part of her death, I can recall, was her funeral.  The funeral parlor was on the north side of Church Avenue close to Rogers Avenue.  I remember very little.  Mom was in the coffin, and people walked over to her, looked at her, and sometimes bowed their heads in prayer.  Uncle Wally came over to me, and asked me to come with him to see mom. When we got to the coffin, I looked at mom. I didn’t know what else to do. Wally then told me he would give me a dollar if I would give mom a kiss. At that age, I was an indiscriminant sellout- I gave mom a kiss.  In truth, I probably would have done that without being offered a reward.

 My reaction to Mom’s death, and funeral, was probably forged by my age and by my history with Mom.  At age eight, I did not really understand how Mom’s death impacted others- Pop, Daddy, Mother, Wally and Bobby, Al and Mickey, et al.  I doubt I gave any of that a thought.  My history with Mom wasn’t strong.  I knew she was my grandmother, but I cannot remember doing anything with her.  Sadly, all I can remember was her in a wheelchair at Wally and Harriet’s apartment on Montague St., in Brooklyn.  So when she died, I did not cry; nor did I have any special feeling.

It’s somewhat weird to me, but even when Granny died, I was void of feeling.  I’ve mentioned Granny, Mother’s mother, several times.  She was closer to the storybook grandma than Mom. But when granny died, I was an adult, and I hadn’t seen her for a pretty long while; long enough to have healed over missing her.  Her funeral services were conducted in a small church in Rhinebeck, on the Hudson River, about 100 miles north of New York City.  I get closer to Granny almost every time I look at my arthritic hands.   I can make them look exactly like her crippled hands.  Then lots of memories of her come to mind.  I can’t do that with mom

So the day I left to go back to school was pretty sad. Mother and Joe (her husband) sat up front. Sally and I were in the back seat. Knowing I was to leave her was worse than anything I could imagine. It would have been easier to die holding one another, than to have to leave her.  But there we were, on the platform, hugging good bye.  I thought I was going to bawl, but I didn’t. I know I had tears in my eyes. Sally did, too.  Our romance was not over.  Now, it was a long distance relationship- she had a boyfriend at Notre Dame, and I had a girl back home.

 After getting settled on the train, I walked to the club car to have a soda and relax. I guess my sadness could be seen by others because a woman walked over and sat down next to me. She helped me talk through all that was going on, and she was tuned in to my history, my education, and my goals. She asked me my name, and then she told me hers.  All this time, I had been talking with Ella Fitzgerald.  Although her singing was more up Mickey’s alley, I sure knew she was a jazz phenomenon.  I was also able to tell her that I saw her name the past week on the marquee at the Fox Theater, in Brooklyn.  I’d like to tell you when Sally and I picked “our song”, that we picked an Ella Fitzgerald piece.  However, we chose Sarah Vaughn singing “Love me or leave Me”.   I did not share that with Ms. Fitzgerald.

 When I got off the train in Plymouth, Indiana, it was different for me. There was no one there to greet me. I was on my own.  If I wanted, I still had my job at Saint Joseph Hospital. Tony Ciambelli and I met at our three room suite, which was the entire second floor of our house on Woodward Avenue near Angela Blvd. That is about one mile directly west of the Notre Dame Campus. On most days, I walked to school.  If I wanted to take a bus, I had to take a bus downtown, where I transferred on to the Notre Dame bus.  Taking the bus would take almost as much time as walking.

 The house we lived in was owned by the Komp family.  We treated it as if it was our own home.  Even though we could go to the refrigerator on our own, both Tony and I would only go there if we had bought something that needed to be kept cool. But it was a very welcoming gesture. We both felt at home. So much so, we joined in family game night each week, usually Thursday. We played card and board games with Mr. and Mrs. Komp and their grown children.

 My Fall semester courses were vertebrate embryology and lab, German 1, Logic, General Physics and lab, and Sociology.  I made it through the semester, but passed embryo and sociology by the skin of my teeth. But, more importantly, I was progressing.  Even so, being a pre-med student was not so great. I simply chalked that up to my natural dislike for school work- the price I had to pay to be a doctor.  

 By mid-October, I was pretty much down, and going through the motions.  I can’t figure out how my mother and I arranged for her to call me on a Sunday, but we did arrange it, and she did call.  We talked about my depressed mood, and how much I missed Sally. Mother said, “Hold on, I have a surprise for you.”  The next voice was Sally’s.  Mother drove to Levittown, got Sally, then drove home.  That call gave me the lift I needed to keep on going.  Mother loved it all because she did something tremendous to cheer me up.  Also gratifying for her, she got to spend the day with Sally.  I would have liked that, as well.  We wrote to one another frequently, but, at that moment, talking to her was love’s dream.

 Shortly after that, Tony invited me to his home in Ferndale, Michigan, a suburb just north of Detroit. When I told my mother about the Detroit visit, she got very excited. Her cousins, the Atkinson’s, lived there.  She was sure any of her cousins, aunts, and uncles would come to see me.  I may have already told you, my mother was born on Parry Sound in the Georgian Bay of Lake Huron, or at least, she was a Canadian.  Many of her relatives lived in Park Hill, a small town further south, a few hours drive from Detroit.  That may not seem like a big deal to many people in today’s world. But then, at least in my family, aunts, uncles, and cousins were extremely close.  My cousins were almost like brothers and sisters to me.  So when we got to De-troy-it, as Mother would say, I went and visited the Atkinsons.  There were close to forty people there to say hello to Anna’s son, Richie. (my mother’s name was Anna).  That said something about Mother no one ever talked about with me.  She was loved by just about every Canadian to whom she was related.  But for a few, almost all of them lived in Canada, and made the drive to say hello to me.

 The fall semester began in September and ended the last week of January.  So over the Christmas holidays, students had finals to think about. So, like many other kids, I brought home the books I needed to review for the finals.  There was nothing eventful that semester, except for my all-nighter to study for a Sociology test. I was certain I would fail the course. I ended up with a solid D+.  Today, with all my education, I’d be as happy with that grade as I was then.  Going home for Christmas and being with Sally had completely absorbed my mind.  It was going to be the best Christmas ever.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Under the Apple Tree--Chapter 4

Ship:  Outlaw Queen

Rating: T

Synopsis: After being hit by the Olympian Crystal, Robin was transported to Seattle, unable to return to Storybrooke or any magical. When it was clear he had no way to return to his family, Robin finally decided to bury his broken heart in work–founding a landscaping business, Sherwood Forestry.  Fifteen years later, Robin receives an order from the last person he ever thought he’d see again, making him realize that hope never truly dies.

Previous: Chapter 1  Chapter 2   Chapter 3

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

A few months ago…

Lucy Mills stared, frozen in terror as the darkness grew and shifted before her.

“Run!  Lucy run!” Her mother screamed from behind her.  

Something inside her balked at the idea of leaving her mother to the darkness; not when it had already taken her father.  For a split second she remained rooted to the spot, indecision torturing her.

“Go!” he mother called again, and this time, the panic in her voice spurred Lucy on.  She took off running, tears streaming down her face as she heard the horrible sounds of the monster advancing and then her mother screaming.  She chanced one glance behind her and watched in horror as the darkness, now a great, towering spiral of black smoke, enveloped her mother.  When it retreated, her mother was gone.

Taking a deep breath, Lucy sprinted toward the field.  There was no time to worry about her mother and father right now.  She must get away from the darkness.  She must protect the book.  She had one chance, just one chance left.

She had to get back to Storybrooke.

Lucy looked back over her shoulder as she reached the first beanstalk.  The monster was gaining on her.  Heart pounding, she searched the plant, but no bean was to be found.  The second yielded no better results. Finally, on the third plant, she found one, single bean.  It was still green, barely formed, but it was her only hope.

Pulling the bean free from its vine, she threw it roughly to the ground.  A weak portal appeared before Lucy, and she jumped in, but something stopped her progress.  Looking up, heart in her throat, Lucy saw the darkness, now in the form of a huge, hideous giant reaching down to grab the storybook.  Lucy tightened her hold on the book, holding it so tightly, she felt the hard cover bite into her arms.

But she was no match for the darkness.  After one quick tug, the monster pulled the book free, and Lucy tumbled backwards, the portal closing over her.  She closed her eyes, pushing the horrible events of the past night from her mind and thinking with all her might of her Grandma Regina, her Grandma Emma, her Grandpa Killian.  She may have failed at protecting her parents, the storybook, but if anyone could fix the mess, it was her grandparents.  

She only hoped the darkness wouldn’t be able to follow her to storybook, because if it did, everything would truly be lost.

~o~q~o~q~o~q~o~q~o~q~

Present day

Henry stared at the blank Word document, the cursor blinking at him, mocking him.  Finally he pushed away from the computer, getting up and pacing in frustration.  His editor was going to kill him.  The first five chapters of his new book were due in a week, and he’d yet to write a single word.

The story just wasn’t there.

Henry had been a writer for as long as he could remember.  From the moment he could string letters together to form words, he’d been writing stories.  It was the only thing that had gotten him through some of his worst moments when the other children in the group home were particularly cruel.  He’d spun fantastic tales about fairy tales, about heroes defeating villains, about good triumphing over evil, about children who had more family than they knew what to do with.

He was like any other orphan.  There was a part of him who hoped his family would come for him, who hoped a new family would adopt him, who hoped someone, anyone would want him.

But this wasn’t a fairy tale.  This was the real world.  Nobody wanted him.  The sooner he got that through his thick skull the better.

False hope was worse than no hope at all.

And so, when Henry had aged out of the group home, he’d taken odd jobs, spending every free moment he could writing.  A year ago, his first manuscript had finally been picked up by an editor and had subsequently been published.

That first book had, for some reason, been particularly near to his heart.  He’d written a story about a girl whose parents had sent her through a magical wardrobe to save her from an impending curse.  The girl had grown up and eventually found her parents. Through the love and belief of the son she’d given up for adoption when he was born, she’d managed to break the curse and help an entire town remember who they truly were.

The book had sold like crazy, quickly earning Henry enough to quit his dead end jobs, rent a nice apartment, and write full time.

His publisher had raved about the book, requesting a sequel almost right out of the gate.  He’d promised a continuation of the story, more adventures with the fairy tale characters who Henry had spent so much time thinking about they almost felt like family.

But now, when it came down to it, the words just would not come.  This was his big break and he was about to spectacularly blow it.

There was a quick, urgent knock at his door, and Henry looked up, grateful for the interruption, curious about who might be knocking.  He never had visitors.  No one gave a damn about him.

Only one way to find out.

Henry opened the door to find a little girl, adorable with her black hair and dark brown eyes, her cheeks dimpling when she smiled.

“Are you Henry Mills?” she asked.

“Yeah, who are you?”

She smiled widely. “I’m Lucy.  I’m your daughter.

~o~q~o~q~o~q~o~q~o~q~

Half an hour later, Henry sat back in his chair, looking over at the girl, Lucy, who’d barged into his home, insisting she was his daughter, who showed no indication she intended to ever leave.

What was he supposed to do with her?

She’d prattled on for a good ten minutes about darkness and curses and his family being in trouble and something happening to her mother, but none of it made any sense.

Henry had thought about calling the cops, but something had stopped him.  There was something…familiar…about the girl. Something about her tale resonated with him.  It was impossible, of course.  She either had a very vivid imagination or she was nuts.  But still, something about what she said seemed right.

Maybe he was starting to go crazy too.  Too much time cooped up in his apartment.

“And just who is it again that you think is your mother, my wife?”

Lucy sighed dramatically. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Just…please father!  Please look at the book.  I know it’s not, you know, the storybook, but the darkness got it.  I tried, I really did, but it was too strong for me.”

“What was too strong for you?”

“The darkness.”

Henry sighed.  They were going around in circles.

“Look,” he said, running a hand through his thick, dark hair, “if I read your little storybook, will you leave me alone?”

“That’s all I ask,” Lucy said, passing over the book.  “It’s not perfect, I know, but I did my best to write down our story—yours, mine, mama’s, our family’s.”

Henry made a non-committal sound in the back of his throat as he took hold of the book and flipped it open.  It landed on an illustration of what looked like a family dinner.  A large group of people…including one who looked eerily like him when he’d been around 14…sat around a table laden with food.

And as Henry looked at the picture, suddenly it happened.  A whoosh, as of some sort of energy, electricity burst forth and washed over him.  Suddenly images, memories started racing through his head.  Him with his mom when he was five years old.  Going to find his birth mom.  Breaking the curse.  Neverland. The final battle.  And then newer memories as well.  A woman with dark skin and laughing eyes.  Meeting her, falling in love with her, marrying her, having a daughter with her.

Lucy.

With a swift intake of breath, Henry looked up, tears forming in his eyes as he remembered. “Lucy,” he said, voice gravelly with emotion.  “You found me.”

She let out a long breath, relief evident in her eyes.  “That’s what this family does.”

He crushed her to him in a hug.  His little girl!  He’d never let her go again.

~o~q~o~q~o~q~o~q~o~q~

Robin felt his jaw drop as he looked at the man standing in the hallway just outside his door.  He vaguely recognized him as the mysterious recluse who lived in apartment 108.

“Did you…” he stammered. “Did you just say you were Henry Mills?  Regina’s son?!”

The man before him smiled broadly.  “Do you remember?  Do you actually remember?”

“I remember everything. Everything,” Robin said, tears rushing to the back of his eyes.  “But you…you’re all grown up.  What are you doing here?  What happened?  And did you say that’s your daughter?”

“You must be Grandpa Robin,” the little girl said.  “I’m Lucy.”

Robin took the little girl’s hand, dazedly, and then looking back at Henry.  For a split second the men simply looked at each other, and then they moved as one, clasping each other in a long, hard hug.

“You were dead!” Henry said, voice rough.  “Mom saw Hades hit you with the crystal.  How is this even possible?  We had a funeral; she was so strong through all of it, but I could see it in her eyes. She was barely holding it together. If it wasn’t for all the villains and curses that just kept coming at us over the next few months, I don’t know how she’d have survived the grief.”

Robin felt a tear slide down his cheek.  “Come in,” he said, stepping aside, and sweeping his hand forward in welcome.  “I believe we all have tales we need to tell.”

~o~q~o~q~o~q~o~q~o~q~

“And so,” Lucy finished, “when the darkness made it through, it cursed Storybrooke again.  Grandma Regina and Grandpa Killian and Great-grandpa Rumple just…disappeared, and everyone else fell under a sleeping curse.”

Robin felt his heart stutter and then race. It was all starting to make sense--“Rayna Miller” having no idea who she truly was.  Her brother James.  The neighbor Robert.  It was them; it had to be.

“How did you know to come here, Lucy?” Robin asked.  “Misthaven is on the other side of the country from Storybrooke.  How did you find us.”

Lucy grinned, reached into her pocket and pulled out a pen.  “This led me to Father,” she said.

Henry hugged his daughter to himself and smiled up at Robin.  “My daughter is a marvel.  After the darkness cast the curse, she didn’t lose her head.  Instead, she went to Mom’s vault, found a locator spell, poured it on my Author’s quill and followed it to me.”

“But how did you know your father was here and alive?” Robin asked.

“I felt it,” Lucy said, putting a hand to her chest, “in here.  Tiger Lily told me I’d be reunited with my father, and somehow I just knew he was here.”

“And now we have to find a way to break the curse,” Henry said.  “Maybe if we can get the whole family together again, all awake and remembering who they are, we can find a way to make a stand against the darkness. We have to defeat it before it destroys all the realms.  And…and if we don’t defeat it, I’m afraid there will be no way to save my wife.”

Robin reached forward, laying a hand on Henry’s shoulder.  “We will defeat this darkness, never fear,” he said firmly.  “You have the heart of the truest believer.  You have the strength of your parents, the fighting spirit of your mother. We will not fail.  And I assure you, my bow is ever at your disposal.”

“Thanks,” Henry said. “I have a feeling we’re going to need it, although what use weapons—or even magic—are against evil incarnate, I don’t know.”

“We’ll find a way,” Robin assured.  Have you any idea how to proceed?”

Lucy shrugged.  “We hadn’t really figured out much yet.  We were about to go to dinner and make plans for “Operation Defeat the Darkness”, when Father remembered there was someone named Robin Locksley living a few doors down.  We decided to check it out.”

“You have no idea how relieved I was when it was you who opened the door,” Henry said.  “I still can’t believe you’re alive.  Alive! It’s better than I’d ever hoped. But about the plan, the only thing I’ve been able to come up with is…kind of a needle in a haystack.  If we can find some way to find Hook and Regina and Rumple, maybe they can help us with the next phase.  Thing is, they could be literally anywhere.  In any realm.  And even when we find them, there’s no way of knowing what the curse did to them.”

Robin smiled broadly. “As it happens, I can be of assistance in that matter.”

“Yeah?” Henry asked. “How?  Lucy used the last of the locator potion on me.”

“As luck would have it,” Robin said, “a locator potion will not be necessary.  I know precisely where to find your family.  What say I make you and the lass dinner, and we can devise the next phase of the plan?”

 Notes:

--Sorry for the lack of update last week!  I went to the OUAT con in Chicago the weekend before last, and I basically spent all last week going through my notes and recordings and making transcripts and summaries, and just, in general reliving the con.  It was such a fantastic weekend!  The result, though, was that a grand total of none of my WIPs got updated last week.  Hopefully I’m back to my normal update schedule, now, though.

--With this chapter, we start to get some idea of what happened to leave Regina, Killian and Gold without their memories.  

--Up next:  Rayna can’t get the landscaper out of her head and, in fact, starts having weird flashes of memory.  James encourages her to pursue it; love is worth it.  The next day, Robin shows up at her doorstep—with Henry and Lucy in tow. Will the presence of her son and her granddaughter jog anything in Regina’s memory?

[measamom]

JoJo The Great

Today marks one year since my grandma left us for Heaven. I had the honor of speaking at her memorial service. I tried to post something about 8 weeks after she died, but then we lost my father-in-law, and then a good family friend, and then a man who was like a second father to me during my childhood. How could I even pull apart the different strands of grief and loss? It was a lot to navigate. But today, as I mark a year, and mostly just because I miss her, I thought I’d share what I said at her funeral. 

My name is Margaret Ann. I represent a band of hooligans lucky enough to have had Joan Kenny as our grandma, grandma-in-law, and great grandma.  I'm the oldest grandchild, along with Cory who would have been 33, Ryan Andrew, and his beautiful wife Tiffany, Jacqualin Marie, Colleen Elizabeth and Thomas Jackson. My husband Blaine and I are also the proud parents of Jack and Joan's great granddaughters, Ruby Elizabeth, 5 and Eloise Pearl, 2.

The art of letting go and holding on is clumsy. But it's a gift to not have to do it alone. Thank you for being here with us today. For grieving and celebrating right along side of us as we remember our beloved Jojo.

When Blaine and I found out we were expecting, Jojo was thrilled. She didn't waste any time thinking about the name she wanted this next generation of family to call her. And soon after, she proudly announced she'd come up with it: they'd be called The Greats, Jojo the Great and Jack the Great. She loved the name. We all did. Because, of course, it was true. She wasn't perfect, but she was great. Great at being a wife, a friend, a mom, a volunteer, a teacher, a golfer,  a grandma, and certainly at being Jojo.

How lucky we have been to have had such a fun, funny, creative, active, smart, thoughtful, adventurous, independent and sometimes even stubborn woman as our grandma. I don't know if growing up as an only child inspired her, but she was determined to make sure that this rag tag group of kids were deeply connected, even though thousands of miles separated our daily lives. She knew, along with so many other things, what we couldn't yet understand: these would be the people that would tie us to our shared history, that would become the friends that have known us our whole lives, and the only people that truly understand the good, the strange and the crazy you came from. It's by far, one the tops gifts anyone has given me.

Being with Jojo was usually quite a riot. Jojo, by the way, is a name Ryan gave her when he was learning to talk. Jojo always thought ahead and planned for our visits like crazy.  There were delicious homemade treats, silly surprises, and a revolving door of new card games.  Her work and preparation made us feel loved and important. She had happily and thoughtfully anticipated us. And we couldn't help but be excited. I think this might be the truest picture of hospitality. Making people feel loved, welcomed, and wholly invited into your life.

I specifically felt this during the summers when we did cousin camp. We'd arrive from Chicago and Dallas, respectively, for a few days without our parents. Jojo and Papa Jack took us on picnics, boat rides across lake Decatur, museum trips, hikes, and library visits. We played shuffle board games, were told we could eat s'mores till we threw up, helped make homemade vanilla ice cream with m&m's, played days-long card games, rode the train at Scovill Zoo and played at the park. They did their level best to make elite golfers out of us. It might be the only area in which they didn't win.

Beyond their amazing gift of hospitality expressed through fun and adventure, Papa Jack and Jojo have been the kind of grandparents that have always shown up. Birthday, holidays, plays, graduations, games, church events, weddings, showers. All of it. And in the hard things too, sicknesses, hospital stays, opening up their home, in heartbreak, and turmoil. What a gift, to have people that might not always agree with you or understand you, but always, always have your back.

Jojo taught us a lot: party potatoes are just as good as dessert, life is way more fun with friends, baiting a hook with a real worm won't kill you, you don't *have* to be good at golf to be part of the family, getting into a little trouble can be a little fun, and how to bake the best chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. All things we look forward to passing on in her honor with our own kids, grandkids, and if we're as lucky as her, great grandkids.  

And as we have all, kid by kid, turned into grown ups, she let us know how proud she was of us. For making important art and working at being good parents. For being such a good husband and so wise with your money. For being so smart and loyal, and wickedly good at your job. For being fierce and funny and independent, like her. For working so hard and being the real star of this whole operation. As an adult you don't know how much blessing and approval mean from someone you love and respect,until you get it. The older we got, the more she gave. Great again.

And at the end, as this shocking whirlwind of sickness surprised us all, the things she lamented most were those very 'showing up' things. It wasnt all the things she hadn't done or a list of regrets. But rather, all the things she wouldn't get to do. Watching TJ play volleyball in college and celebrating Coll's graduation. Dance at weddings. More great grandchildren. Seeing Ruby in her dual language kindergarten classroom this fall. Taking Eloise to the zoo.

The night Jojo passed, so peacefully and loved, into her new life in heaven, my two year old, Eloise, flipped open to the last page of her Jesus Storybook Bible for her bedtime story. And as I read the sweet paraphrase, I thought of Jojo. It says:

John 12:1-2 For anyone who says yes to Jesus For anyone who believes what Jesus said For anyone who will just reach out to take it Then God will give them this wonderful gift:

To be born into a whole new life To be who they really are Who God always made them to be- Their own true selves- God's dear child.

Jojo, god's dear child, thank you. We love you so. Admittedly, things are a little less fun and good without you here. But we know that when we finally join you in Heaven, you'll be right there welcoming us as you've always done and just like always, we look forward to being with you with wild anticipation. To Jojo the Great, you are great indeed.

[makemoneyonlineprofit-blog]

200+ Christmas Fonts, Christmas Card Templates & Christmas Icons

https://120profit.com/?p=1644&utm_source=SocialAutoPoster&utm_medium=Social&utm_campaign=Tumblr Creating your own personalized Christmas cards is a thoughtful (and cost-efficient!) way to show the people in your life that you care about them. But I get it: if you’re not a graphic designer or DIY-guru, the idea of creating a bunch of Christmas cards from scratch might seem too big a task to take on. Don’t worry–Venngage’s card maker has got you covered. In this ULTIMATE guide to creating your own Christmas cards in a pinch, we’ve put together: So let’s get started! We teamed up with HubSpot to compile all of these resources into a handy ebook: DOWNLOAD MY FREE EBOOK  50+ Festive Christmas Fonts and Holiday Fonts   There are thousands upon thousands of fonts out there, so we picked a selection of holiday fonts that are perfect for Christmas cards, Hanukkah cards, and holiday cards in general. To make it easier to find the best font for your design, we’ve organized them into different font types: cursive fonts, cute fonts, and elegant fonts.  When it comes to picking fonts, we recommend pairing two to three of these fonts together to create a beautiful, quirky, and creative card design.  16 Cursive Fonts For a Handwritten Feel Do you want to give your holiday cards a heartfelt, handwritten feel? A cursive font is a classic for holiday cards. 1. Lobster Two Font Lobster Two is fancy without being gaudy. In fact, it looks like it came right off the pages of a storybook. With embellishments that look like the skids on a sleigh, this font is perfect for Christmas cards. Here is an example of Lobster Two on a card: USE THIS TEMPLATE NOW And on another card: USE THIS TEMPLATE NOW 2. Yellowtail Font Yellowtail takes it’s design cues from classic painters of the 1930’s. You can clearly see that influence in the way that the letters flow together so well. Use this font to bring some of those classic Christmas feelings back to the holiday season. Here’s Yellowtail on a great holiday card: CREATE THIS CARD NOW 3. Manus Smooth Font Manus Smooth is an awesome display font that works for almost any card design. It mixes the best parts of handwritten and calligraphy fonts that we have seen above to create something new. The smooth flow of this font makes it perfect for scrawling out messages. 4. Merry Christmas Font Merry Christmas may be the perfect Christmas card font–after all, it’s in the name. This font is reminiscent of old Christmas specials on TV. People young and old will be able to relate to this nostalgic font. 5. Playball Font Playball is a font that was specifically designed for festive events, like Christmas or the holidays. This means this flowy font will look right at home on your holiday card. You can see Playball as the main font on the following Hanukkah card template: GET STARTED  NOW 6. Atlantic Bentley Font If you want to create a Christmas card with a cool experimental look, then Atlantic Bentley is a great choice. This font feels like it was pristinely created back in the day and time has worn it down to what you see now. Use a dark palette with this font or a darker photo like in the example above. That way, the font and all its imperfections will really pop when your friends open it. 7. Bakery Font The Bakery font was probably ripped straight off the menu board of a French cafe. The combination of thick and thin strokes make it feel like a person wrote this font in a hurry before the store opened. The artful imperfections of this font will make your Christmas card feel a lot more genuine. 8. Beautiful Holiday Font Bring a modern feel with classes touches to your Christmas cards with this beautiful font, Beautiful Holiday. The cursive typeface with long, thin strokes makes this an ideal holiday font for your cards. 9. Better Together Font Better Together is a display font that it perfect for big, short phrases on your card. Phrases like “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Holidays” will look awesome in this font. Pair this with a more minimal body font, like Light Font. 10. Birds of Paradise Font Birds of Paradise is a versatile font that can be used for all sorts of holiday cards. The perfect mix of calligraphy and script features, this font is nice and easy to read. It can be used to wish someone a happy greeting on the front cover, or be used as the main body font for your card’s message. 11. Christmas Day Font If you want your Christmas card to look like it was written by the big guy in red himself then use Christmas Day. I can imagine him sitting down at the North Pole writing this font himself. Just remember that this is a display font and can sometimes be a little hard to read, so don’t use only this font. 12. Enchanting Celebrations Font One of the best parts of this font is how well the cursive letters are created and spaced. Enchanting Celebrations is another script font that is super decorative but also easy to read. It can be used in combination with a sans serif font like Cocogoose to upgrade your holiday card cover. 13. Heartbeat in Christmas Font Heartbeat in Christmas is a font that would look interesting on anyone’s Christmas card. After all, Christmas is in the name! This heartfelt font feels comforting and familiar. 14. Red Velvet Font Shamelessly romantic, Red Velvet is a font that looks like it was scrawled out by a lover. Have someone you want to give your heart to this Christmas? This is the font to write your love letter with. 15. Vacations in Phuket Font Tired of trying to decide which font to pick for your Christmas cards? Phuket! Vacations in Phuket might just be the best named for a font on this list. This font is snazzy and opulent, like spending Christmas at an all-inclusive resort. 16. Sun Valley Font The loose brushstrokes aesthetic of Sun Valley makes this font perfect for a creative, crafty Christmas card. Pair this font with a woodsy background image for a card design that Bon Iver wouldn’t be able to scoff at.   19 Unique Fonts For a Quirky and Cheerful Design Do you want your holiday cards to feel cheery and fun? Try one of these unique fonts. 1. Chewy Font Cute and round like a snowman, Chewy is a font that brings a feeling of childish fun to your Christmas cards. Write a big, cheerful message on your card in this font, to give people warm fuzzy feelings when they open it! Here is an example of Chewy in action: USE THIS TEMPLATE NOW 2. Candy Cane Font One of the most ubiquitous holiday candies makes an appearance in font form with Candy Cane. Like other decorative fonts, this one is ideal for big, short phrases. Pair it with a more readable body font to create a pro Christmas card! 3. Artesana Font Artesana is a lowercase font that you can use to add a familiar or casual feeling to your Christmas cards. The uniquely designed letters give this font a one-of-a-kind feel. Pair Artesana with a bold font like Paytone One (available on Venngage) for a quirky and interesting holiday card. 4. Behind Blue Eyes Font Behind Blue Eyes was created to look like someone was writing with a felt tipped pen, and it makes for an authentic look. It will almost look like you wrote out your messages by hand–though your card will be no less heartfelt! 5. Fresh Holiday Font Fresh Holiday is another font that looks like it was handwritten. You can give your cards a more personal touch with a casual scrawl like this. Don’t forget to sign your name! 6. Geektastic Font Let your inner quirkiness shine through this holiday season by picking Geektastic. This font feels goofy and fun, without being too in your face. In fact, tech companies or startups would benefit from using this font on their holiday greeting cards. 7. Christmas Gift Font Christmas Gift seems to be inspired by someone writing all the name tags on the presents the night before. The lack of uniformity in each of the letters feels like it was written by a tired parent. This font is great for giving your card an authentic look. 8. Christmas Jumper Font This is one of my favorite Christmas fonts, by far. It looks like Christmas Jumper was pulled straight from a sweater knit by grandma. We recommend using this on a very minimalistic Christmas card to make it look like a real sweater. 9. Christmas Season Font Although Christmas Season is a very thin font, it still makes an impact on your Christmas card design. This font has a casual and comfortable feel, and can easily be used on a family card or even a corporate Christmas card because of that. 10. Holidays Are Coming Font Add a little bit of authenticity and quirkiness to your Christmas card with Holidays Are Coming. This font has a DIY feel that will make your Christmas card design friendly and inviting. 11. Honeyguide Font If you were to create a font using only a massive permanent marker, you would have Honeyguide. That’s what makes this font so fun and perfect for a made-from-scratch holiday card. It honestly looks like someone just decided to write you a nice note for the holidays. 12. Luna Font Out of all the handwritten fonts in this collection, Luna might be the most sincere looking. Use this wholesome font for the title text to create a warm and homey holiday card design. 13. Magical Brush Font Magical Brush uses, well, a paintbrush as its main inspiration for the font. Use this font with a nice family photo and you will have a breathtaking holiday card in no time. 14. Quicksand Font Quicksand was designed using geometric shapes as the main inspiration. Because of that, it has a childlike feeling that makes it perfect for family holiday cards. 15. Saint Knick Knack Font Saint Knick Knack looks like the writing you would put on a tag for a homemade box of holiday treats. The playful swirls and loops give this font a fun and carefree feeling. Perfect for a homemade Christmas card! 16. Santa’s Sleigh Font Santa’s Sleigh will make you think of jingling bells and having trouble falling asleep on Christmas eve. This font has a classic feel that will take your Christmas card recipients back to their childhood. 17. Square Font  SquareFont is a very bold geometric font. This font can be used to make a holiday card that has a modern or industrious theme. Got someone in your life who loves woodworking? Mechanical work? This is a font that will speak to them. 18. The Skinny Font The Skinny is a simple font that you can use to bring a minimalistic feel to any Christmas card. Pair it with a bolder font like Queen of Clubs to complete the minimalist holiday card you have always wanted. 19. Graduate Font Graduate is an ideal font for schools or universities who want to send out holiday greeting cards. It’s an old-school font that almost anyone will recognize and associate with their alma mater.   24 Elegant Fonts For Fancy Designs For a classy design, try one of these elegant fonts. After all, the holidays are a time to glam it up. 1. Caviar Dreams Font Bring a touch of class to your Christmas cards. We have been looking at a lot of title fonts so far but Caviar Dreams is an example of a font that can be used for both title and body text. 2. Chapaza Font Chapaza looks like it should be on the front page of a newspaper or fashion magazine. The mix of light and heavy strokes make this font look timeless. Use it to bring a bit of sophistication to your Christmas card this year. 3. Christmas Card Font Many of us have seen Christmas Card on our parent’s old holiday decorations. It looks like it came from a different era and can be very nostalgic if you use it in your Christmas card design. 4. Christmas in Finland Font The Nordic countries are probably pretty used to having a white Christmas, and Christmas In Finland fits that imagery. This whimsical font will transport you to a land of warm sweaters and fairytales. 5. Cinzel Font The sharp edges and thick lines give Cinzel a modern and eye-catching look. If you want to design a Christmas card that strays away from classic tropes, this is the font to do that. See Cinzel on this holiday card below: USE THIS TEMPLATE NOW 6. Cocogoose Font It’s got a weird name and it’s here to stay: Cocogoose. It’s a great modern font that can be used for both body text or titles. Match this with a heavy display font like Atlantic Beauty or Better Together and you will have a solid Christmas card. 7. Code Font Code is one of those fonts that will still look ahead of it’s time in twenty years. It’s ultra modern, stylish and sleek. The thing lines also don’t obscure any background image you might want to use, so it’s perfect for a Christmas card with a nice photo or pattern design. 8. Cookie Cutter Culture Font Take a look at Cookie Cutter Culture if you want a unique but geometric inspired font on your card. The letters feel familiar but also completely fresh at the same time—the O’s and C’s look like round cookies! 9. Edition Font Edition is a beautiful font that harks back to a forgotten era where newspapers ruled the world of print. This font would fit nicely in a newspaper, book or magazine, but it will also give your Christmas cards a dramatic look. 10. Enchanted Land Font I know there are a lot of Disney lovers out there and Enchanted Lands is designed for them. Doesn’t it look like it was just pulled off the cover of a book of fairytales? Give your Christmas cards a magical feel with this beautiful font. 11. Florence Font With uniform spacing, interesting letters and bold strokes, Florence is a special monospaced display font. Not only does it use serifs on each letter, there are little extras on each you won’t find on another font. 12. Gloss And Bloom Font Gloss And Bloom is FIERCE, and I think that’s all you need to know about this font. It’s perfect for those chic Christmas dispatches you have always wanted to send. 13. Goldoni Font The mix of heavy vertical lines and slim horizontal lines makes Goldoni look crisp and sleek–especially the O’s! Plus, it uses the negative space to make the letters really pop from your Christmas card. 14. Instruction Font Instruction is a classic monospaced font that is perfect for writing longer messages in your Christmas cards. Got a heartfelt message you want to get off your chest? This is the font for that. 15. Lemon/Milk Font Lemon/Milk is one of those fonts that you will never forget after you see it for the first time. Match this big, bold font with a thin font like Code or Cocogoose for a modern and easy to read card design. 16. Oxygen Font Oxygen is a tried and true font that is good for designs all year round. If you want to make sure your Christmas cards are easy to read (especially if you’re sending them out digitally), then Oxygen is a safe bet. See Oxygen on the following Christmas card template: USE THIS TEMPLATE NOW 17. Paytone One Font Although Paytone One isn’t the most exciting font in the world, it can be paired with more decorative fonts to make them pop. For example, combine it with Fresh Holiday or Geektastic for a nice looking holiday card cover. 18. Playfair Display Font Playfair Display was designed to feel like it came from the past, and that’s why it has a classic feel. Draw eyes to your beautiful Christmas cards with this timeless font. The following card use Playfair Display very nicely actually: Create THIS Card NOW 19. Queen Of Clubs Font Are you a fan of geometric shapes and modern designs? Then Queen of Clubs may be your perfect holiday font. Use it as a bold title font with a simple but evocative background image. 20. Raleway Font Raleway is a safe font to use in your Christmas card because you know it’s readable. It’s a minimalist font that doesn’t stray anywhere near tacky. Use this font for Christmas cards that you want to share on social media or in emails, for example. 21. Stay Rad Font Stay Rad looks like it was written on a chalkboard in a cafe by a particularly enthusiastic barista. Perhaps to advertise their new mocha-candy-cane-concoction? 22. The Bold Font Here we have the most literally named font out there: The Bold Font. It’s big, bold and beautiful. Want your holiday card to make an impact on the recipient? Write a message that practically screams at them with The Bold Font. 23. The Light Font Another literally named font, because sometimes simplicity is best: The Light Font. The Light Font actually pairs very nicely with The Bold Font, which makes sense since they were both created by the same designer! 24. Timeless Font Timeless uses the classic Time magazine font heavily as it’s inspiration, with a few subtle tweaks. With this font, you could create a funny Time cover with your family picture as the cover photo. Or name yourself Time Person of the Year.   20+ Christmas Color Palettes For Your Holiday Card Design  After picking the font for your Christmas or holiday card, it’s time to select a color palette. Do you want to go with a traditional holiday color palette? Or do you want to try something creative and unique? Here are 20+ Christmas color palettes for a wide variety of holiday themes. 1. Traditional Christmas Color Palettes These are your classic holiday color palettes: reds and greens that you have been seeing around this time of the year for your entire life. Use the darker reds and greens as your main holiday card colors, and then add the lighter ones or white as your accent colors. Use bolder colors if you’re trying to persuade some to take an action (like asking for a Christmas fundraising donation). Just like we did in this family Christmas card: Get Started NOW Or in this dino-myte Christmas card: Create This Card   2. Modern and Warm Color Palettes These warm color palettes reflect the cozy feeling of the holiday season. Golds and reds appear throughout these warm palettes to still evoke a wintry feeling. There are also lots of golds and silvers, for a splendid feeling. Look at how gold and white features prominently in this Christmas card example below: GET STARTED NOW Or in this bright Christmas card template: Create This Card Now While people are getting a ton of red and green holiday cards, a modern color palette will stand out significantly.   3. Winter Color Palettes Capture the cool, blue tones of the season with a winter color palette. Each of these palettes uses a shade or multiple shades of blue as the central color. They were influenced by the snow-capped mountains and icy landscapes that we see each winter. Here is a great example of using winter colors in a Christmas card: This was the Venngage Holiday card last year, created by one of our talented designers. This design approach is great for companies and brands that want to appeal to as many of their customers as possible.     4. Natural Color Palettes These natural color palettes were also inspired by looking at the wintry world around us. In this case, instead of reflecting the ice and snow, they reflect the forest and nature as inspiration: Natural colors give your holiday cards a cozy and comforting feeling. They’re perfect for creating designs with a nostalgic feeling. For example, instead of using green and red, a few palettes use green and orange for a more earthy color palette. The reds and greens in these color palettes are also a lot darker than traditional holiday color palettes. Here’s an example: CREATE THIS CARD NOW 5. Gradient Color Palettes Using tints and shades of the same color can help you create a classy, modern design. To create a gradient palette like this, all you have to do is start with the main color and pick several shades darker or lighter to complete your palette.    Take this winter holiday card that uses several shades of blue: CREATE THIS CARD NOW If you don’t have much experience pairing colors, creating a color palette like this is a great place to start.   145 Christmas and Holiday Icons Icons are like the stickers you used to decorate your construction paper cards with in preschool. They’re fun, compact and come in all sorts of different styles. We’ve put together 5 holiday-themed icon collections to make finding the right icons for your cards easier. 1. Illustrated Christmas Icons Illustrated icons are one of the biggest graphic design trends of 2017. They’re fun, a bit childish and great for illustrating ideas creatively. These illustrated Christmas icons are perfect for adding some flair to your Christmas card design. Check out how an illustrated icon is used in this Christmas card template to add a little extra embellishment: CREATE THIS CARD NOW 2. Colorful Christmas Icons These colorful Christmas icons are similar to the illustrated icons set, but flatter. These are a little more subtle in their design elements than the illustrations as you can see. They aren’t going to distract from your main greeting or the photo on your Christmas card. For example, look at how some of these icons have been used to add a little something extra to this card: CREATE THIS CARD NOW 3. Flat Christmas Icons Now if you are looking for the most versatile types of icons, use flat icons. You can use them as much or as little as you like on your Christmas cards. They can be the main focal point of your design, or lightly fade into the background. Plus, you can change their colors, which makes it super easy to match your color scheme or our color palettes. For example, this card uses flat icons of varying sizes: CREATE THIS CARD NOW And this card uses flat icons as a background: CREATE THIS CARD NOW You could also group flat icons together create a bigger visual: CREATE THIS CARD NOW There are a ton of possibilities for how you can use flat icons! 4. Hanukkah Icons These simple Hanukkah icons are perfect for embellishing your holiday cards. For example, this card uses a menorah icon as the main visual: CREATE THIS CARD NOW 5. Winter Icons These winter-themed icons are perfect for all kinds of designs–holidays, winter birthdays, winter events, you name it! Here is an example of a simple holiday card that uses winter-themed icons: CREATE THIS CARD NOW   20+ Christmas Card Templates and Holiday Card Templates Once you have your fonts, color palette and icons picked out, it’s time to pull it together in a beautiful card design.   We’ve put together 20 Christmas card templates to help you get started. We have also included recipe under some of them to show you how you can combine fonts, colors, and icons to create beautiful cards. Use these templates to create amazing Christmas cards in a pinch, or use them as a springboard to create your own creative designs! You can visit our templates library for even more Christmas card templates.  1. Family Christmas Card Template CREATE THIS CARD NOW Show your family and friends that you are thinking about them during the holidays with this family Christmas card. The collection of Christmas and holiday icons creates a fun wreath, with room to write a nice message in the center. 2. Business Christmas Card Template Start THIS CARD NOW A simple greeting like Happy Holidays is ideal for a corporate holiday card. The simple, heartfelt message on a warm, natural background will help convey your warm wishes! 3. Christian Christmas Card Template START THIS CARD NOW This card uses a holly-themed border to frame its joyful message. Borders are a great way to create a well-rounded design. You can create your own border using icons, or by uploading a border image you create yourself. But in a pinch, this template will suit all kinds of messages! 4. Funny Christmas Card Template START THIS CARD NOW How do you sing Christmas carols in dino-speak? This Christmas card template answers that question. Swap out the message in the bottom corner with your own, or come up with another prehistoric song for the dino to sing. This card is sure to get a laugh from your friend, families, or customers! 5. Religious Holiday Card Template Use THIS CARD NOW In a world of green and red Christmas cards, a golden color palette will look unique. This card has a warm, classy design. You can customize this template as little or as much as you want by replacing the message with your own, or even swap out the background image for another similarly warm and golden one. 6. Warm Hanukkah Card Template Create THIS CARD NOW Add some brightness to long, dark winter nights with this bright and colorful Hanukkah card. The white font and yellow icons contrast with the teal background to create a vibrant design. 7. Seasons Greetings Card Template Start editing NOW This quirky Christmas card is an example of how you can use icons creatively. Grouping icons together to make shapes is a simple way to create an original card design! You could easily play around with the specific icons in this template, or even add to the picture to make it your own. 8. Family Photo Merry Christmas Card Template Design A Card NOW Use your own photos to create a personal family photo card. Share pictures of your family, friends, or even coworkers–after all, the holidays are about the people! This card template uses image frames and solid borders to incorporate multiple photos into one cohesive card design. 9. Joke Christmas Card Template Start A CARD NOW Just because the holidays are all jingle and cheer, doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice your sassy sense of humor. Tell someone you love them (but not too much) with this sassy Christmas card. Got your own quip? Throw it in there! 10. Happy Holidays Card Template CREATE THIS CARD NOW Look at those cute icons all in a row! This simple holiday card template is perfect for beginner designers. Personalize the greeting, change the colors or swap out the icons for your own and voila! You’re done. 11. Company Christmas Card Template CREATE THIS CARD NOW A simple non-denominational holiday card is an excellent choice for seasons greeting from your business. Combine a heartfelt greeting with a wintry background image for an inclusive holiday campaign. 12. Cute Christmas Card Template Start THIS CARD NOW If you like puns and cute cats, this is the Christmas card is for you. You can easily create your own fun Christmas card using an icon (you can’t really go wrong with pictures of animals) and a fun decorative font. This card is the cat’s meow! 13. Christmas Greeting Card Template START THIS CARD NOW This elegant Christmas card template combines a classy font with a deep-colored background image. Combining a dark background with light font will help your message pop out at readers. Plus, it makes for a holiday card design with impact. 14. New Years Card Templates START THIS CARD NOW Right after Christmas comes New Year. Don’t let the New Year sneak up on you! Get your New Year’s greeting cards ready, starting with this simple by snazzy New Years card template. 15. Snowflake Christmas Card Template Start THIS CARD NOW Don’t want to plaster red and green all over your Christmas card? The blue and white palette helps the card look very modern and clean. No two snowflakes are exactly the same, and neither should your Christmas cards be! 16. Unique Christmas Card Template Create This Card This is another card that uses a modern, elegant color palette. The golden border and script font make for a timeless card design. This is a card template that would work with a wide range of different color palettes. You could also easily repurpose this template for a wide variety of occasions. 17. Icon Christmas Card Template EDIT THIS TEMPLATE NOW This is a fun Christmas card template that is perfect for sharing on social media or including in an email. It’s bright, bold and a bit eccentric–like your favorite ugly Christmas sweater. 18. Christmas eCard Template EDIT THIS TEMPLATE NOW This dimensions of this holiday card template make it perfect for including in an email or in a tweet. It’s simple, classic and reminiscent of a physical Christmas card. You could definitely print this card template out if you wanted to send it the old fashioned way as well! 19. Merry Christmas Greeting Card Template CREATE THIS CARD NOW Bring a little childlike wonder with this minimalist Christmas card template. The block colors and sans serif font make it perfect for adults and children alike. 20. Happy Hanukkah Card Template Start THIS CARD NOW This simple but visually stunning Hanukkah template is perfect for sending to anyone. Using two borders of different thickness gives the card a picture frame look–perfect for framing your greeting! 21. Funny Cat Christmas Card  USE CHRISTMAS CARD TEMPLATE  People like cats. People like cards. Need I say more? 22. Funny Dog Christmas Card Template People also like dogs. The card thing still stands. USE THIS HOLIDAY CARD TEMPLATE  Conclusion The holidays can be a real strain on your time and sanity. Being able to DIY your own visually-stunning holiday cards yourself will not only save you the cost of hiring a designer, they will also give your correspondents a personal touch. Here are some key takeaways to apply to your holiday cards: Pair big, decorative title fonts with simpler body fonts. Pick a traditional color palette to appeal to your recipient’s sense of nostalgia. Pick a modern color palette for an out-of-the-box design. Use icons that have a consistent style to create a cohesive design. Start with a template and customize the design to fit your brand. Don’t forget to include calls-to-action in your marketing materials. A/B test your marketing materials and nurture your sales funnels. While you should be showing your friends that you care about them year-round, the holidays are a great time to do something special. So have fun with your designs and don’t be afraid to get creative! Check out Venngage, the online Graphic Design tool for more beginner-friendly templates. Happy holidays! (function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); js.id = id; js.src = "http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/sdk.js#xfbml=1&version=v2.0"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk')); 120profit.com - https://120profit.com/?p=1644&utm_source=SocialAutoPoster&utm_medium=Social&utm_campaign=Tumblr

[fmservers]

A fictional Facebook Portal videochat with Mark Zuckerberg

TechCrunch: Hey Portal, dial Mark

Portal: Do you mean Mark Zuckerberg?

TC: Yes

Portal: Dialling Mark…

TC: Hi Mark! Nice choice of grey t-shirt.

MZ: Uh, new phone who dis? — oh, hi, er, TechCrunch…

TC: Thanks for agreeing to this entirely fictional interview, Mark!

MZ: Sure — anytime. But you don’t mind if I tape over the camera do you? You see I’m a bit concerned about my privacy here at, like, home

TC: We feel you, go ahead.

As you can see, we already took the precaution of wearing this large rubber face mask of, well, of yourself Mark. And covering the contents of our bedroom with these paint-splattered decorator sheets.

MZ: Yeah, I saw that. It’s a bit creepy tbh

TC: Go on and get all taped up. We’ll wait.

[sound of Mark calling Priscilla to bring the tape dispenser]

[Portal’s camera jumps out to assimilate Priscilla Chan into the domestic scene, showing a generous vista of the Zuckerbergs’ living room, complete with kids playing in the corner. Priscilla, clad in an oversized dressing gown and with her hair wrapped in a big fluffy towel, can be seen gesticulating at the camera. She is also coughing]

Priscilla to Mark: I already told you — there’s a camera cover built into into Portal. You don’t need to use tape now

MZ: Oh, right, right!

Okay, going dark! Wow, that feels better already

[sound of knuckles cracking]

TC: So, Mark, let’s talk hardware! What’s your favorite Amazon Echo?

MZ: Uh, well…

TC: We’d guess one with all the bells & whistles, right? There’s definitely something more than a little Echo Show-y about Portal

MZ: Sure, I mean. We think Alexa is a great product

TC: Mhmm. Do you remember when digital photo frames first came out? They were this shiny new thing about, like, a decade ago? One of those gadgets your parents buy you around Thanksgiving, which ends up stuck in a drawer forever?

MZ: Yeah! I think someone gave me one once with a photo of me playing beer pong on it. We had it hanging in the downstairs rest room for the longest time. But then we got an Android tablet with a Wi-Fi connection for in there, so…

TC: Now here we are a decade or so later with Portal advancing the vision of what digital photo frames can be!

MZ: Yeah! I mean, you don’t even have to pick the pictures! It’s pretty awesome. This one here — oh, right you can’t see me but let me describe it for you — this one here is of a Halloween party I went to one year. Someone was dressed as SpongeBob. I think they might have been called Bob, actually… And this is, like, some other Facebook friends doing some other fun stuff. Pretty amazing.

You can also look at album art

TC: But not YouTube, right? But let’s talk about video calling

MZ: It’s an amazing technology

TC: It sure is. Skype, FaceTime… live filters, effects, animoji…

MZ: We’re building on a truly great technology foundation. Portal autozooming means you don’t even have to think about watching the person you’re talking to! You can just be doing stuff in your room and the camera will always be adjusting to capture everything you’re doing! Pretty amazing.

TC: Doing what Mark? Actually, let’s not go there

MZ: Portal will even suggest people for you to call! We think this will be a huge help for our mission to promote Being Well — uh, I mean Time Well Spent because our expert machine learning algorithms will be nudging you to talk to people you should really be talking to

TC: Like my therapist?

MZ: Uh, well, it depends. But our AI can suggest personalized meaningful interactions by suggesting Messenger contacts to call up

TC: It’s not going to suggest I videchat my ex is it?

MZ: Haha! Hopefully not. But maybe your mom? Or your grandma?

TC: Sounds incredibly useful. Well, assuming they didn’t already #deletefacebook.

But let’s talk about kids

MZ: Kids! Yeah we love them. Portal is going to be amazing for kids

TC: You have this storybook thing going on, right? Absent grandparents using Portal to read kids bedtime stories and what not…

MZ: Right! We think kids are going to love it. And grandparents! We’ve got these animal masks if you get bored of looking at your actual family members. It’s good, clean, innovative fun for all the family!

TC: Yeah, although, I mean, nothing beats reading from an actual kid’s book, right?

MZ: Well…

TC: If you do want to involve a device in your kid’s bedtime there are quite a lot of digital ebook apps for that already. Apple has a whole iBooks library of the things with read-aloud narration, for example.

And, maybe you missed this — but quite a few years ago there was a big bunch of indie apps and services all having a good go at selling the same sort of idea of ‘interactive remote reading experiences’ for families with kids. Though not many appear to have gone the distance. Which does sort of suggest there isn’t a huge unmet need for extra stuff beyond, well, actual children’s books and videochat apps like Skype and FaceTime.

Also, I mean, children’s story reading apps and interactive kids’ e-books are pretty much as old as the hills in Internet terms at this point. So, er, you’re not really moving fast and breaking things are you!?

MZ: Actually we’re more focused on stable infrastructure these days

TC: And hardware too, apparently. Which is a pretty radical departure for Facebook. All those years everyone thought you were going to do a Facebook phone but you left it to Amazon to flop into that pit… Who needs hardware when you can put apps and tracker pixels on everything, right?!

But here you are now, kinda working with Amazon for Portal — while also competing with Alexa hardware by selling your own countertop device… Aren’t you at all nervous about screwing this up? Hardware IS hard. And homes have curtains for a reason…

MZ: We’re definitely confident kids aren’t going to try swivelling around on the Portal Plus like it’s a climbing frame, if that’s what you mean. Well, hopefully not anyway

TC: But about you, Facebook Inc, putting an all-seeing-eye-cum-Internet-connected-listening-post into people’s living rooms and kids’ bedrooms…

MZ: What about it?

[MZ speaking to someone else in the room] Does the speaker have an off switch? How do I mute this thing?

TC: Hello? Mark?

[silence]

[sound comes back on briefly and a snatch of conversation can be heard between Mark and Priscilla about the need to buy more diapers. Mark is then heard shouting across the room that his Shake Shack order of a triple cheeseburger and fries plus butterscotch malt is late again]

[silence] 

[crackle and a congested throat clearing sound. A child is heard in the background asking for Legos]

MZ: Not now okay honey. Okay hon-, uh, hello — what were you saying?

TC: Will you be putting a Portal in Max’s room?

MZ: Haha! She’d probably prefer Legos

TC: August?

MZ: She’s only just turned one

TC: Okay, let’s try a more direct question. Do you at all think that you, Facebook Inc,

might have a problem selling a $200+ piece of Internet-connected hardware when your company is known for creeping on people to sell ads?

MZ: Oh no, no! — we’ve, like, totally thought of that!

Let me read you what marketing came up with. Hang on, it’s around here somewhere…

[sound of paper rustling]

Here we go [reading]:

Facebook doesn’t listen to, view, or keep the contents of your Portal video calls. Your Portal conversations stay between you and the people you’re calling. In addition, video calls on Portal are encrypted, so your calls are always secure.

For added security, Smart Camera and Smart Sound use AI technology that runs locally on Portal, not on Facebook servers. Portal’s camera doesn’t use facial recognition and doesn’t identify who you are.

Like other voice-enabled devices, Portal only sends voice commands to Facebook servers after you say, ‘Hey Portal.’ You can delete your Portal’s voice history in your Facebook Activity Log at any time.

Pretty cool, huh!

TC: Just to return to your stable infrastructure point for a second, Mark — did you mean Facebook is focused on security too? Because, well, your company keeps leaking personal data like a sieve holds water…

MZ: We think of infrastructure as a more holistic concept. And, uh, as a word that sounds reassuring

TC: Okay, so of course you can’t 100% guarantee Portal against hacking risks, though you’re taking precautions by encrypting calls. But Portal might also ‘accidentally’ record stuff adults and kids say in the home — i.e. if its ‘Hey Portal’ local listening function gets triggered when it shouldn’t. And it will then be 100% up to a responsible adult to find their way through Facebook’s labyrinthine settings and delete those wiretaps, won’t it?

MZ: You can control all your information, yes

TC: The marketing bumpf also doesn’t spell out what Facebook does with ‘Hey Portal’ voice recordings, or the personal insights your company is able to glean from them, but Facebook is in the business of profiling people for ad targeting purposes so we must assume that any and all voice commands and interactions, with the sole exception of the contents of videocalls, will go into feeding that beast.

So the metadata of who you talk to via Portal, what you listen to and look at (minus any Alexa-related interactions that you’ve agreed to hand off to Amazon for its own product targeting purposes), and potentially much more besides is all there for Facebook’s taking — given the kinds of things that an always-on listening device located in a domestic setting could be accidentally privy to.

Then, as more services get added to Portal, more personal behavioral data will be generated and can be processed by Facebook for selling ads.

MZ: Well, I mean, like I told that Senator we do sell ads

TC: And smart home hardware too now, apparently.

One more thing, Mark: In Europe, Facebook didn’t used to have face recognition technology switched on did it?

MZ: We had it on pause for a while

TC: But you switched it back on earlier this year right?

MZ: Facebook users in Europe can choose to use it, yes

TC: And who’s in charge of framing that choice?

MZ: Uh, well we are obviously

TC: We’d like you to tap on the Portal screen now, Mark. Tap on the face you can see to make the camera zoom right in on this mask of your own visage. Can you do that for us?

MZ: Uh, sure

[sound of a finger thudding against glass]

MZ: Are you seeing this? It really is pretty creepy!

Or — I mean — it would be if it wasn’t so, like, familiar…

Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg arrives to testify before a joint hearing of the US Senate Commerce, Science and Transportation Committee and Senate Judiciary Committee on Capitol Hill, April 10, 2018 in Washington, DC. (Photo: JIM WATSON/AFP/Getty Images)

[sound of a child crying]

Priscilla to Mark: Eeeew! Turn that thing off!

TC: Thanks Mark. We’ll leave you guys to it.

Enjoy your Shake Shack. Again.

Portal: Thanks for calling Mark, TechCrunch! Did you enjoy your Time Well Spent?

Via Natasha Lomas https://techcrunch.com

[thetravelingmama]

The Incredible Gift of Traveling: Memories

I’m a researcher. Since the internet was available to mankind - yes my darling Mia, I lived in a world where the internet was not available until at least my twentysomethings - I have been investigating and reading about anything I can put my eyes on. I recently read that "Core Memories” is just a marketing invention for a kids movie. We don’t have core memories. We do have lasting memories, that for some reason, we just cannot forget. This makes sense in a way.

Traveling has done that for me. It has given me lasting memories, some I remember vividly. My Grandfather, now almost ninety-something year old, is completely right: there is no better way to spend your money than by traveling. No jewelry, expensive bags, shoes, even a house can carry such impressive memories as even a day of travel.

So today, my darling Mía, I decided to write down as much incredible memories as I can about all the times I’ve been lucky to get on a plane, train or automobile. Here we go.

1) Your father and I celebrated the new year for the first time together on 2018. I will never forget that entire day. We went to the usual tourist traps during the day. We took a small break during the afternoon, and walked to the corner store of our hotel to buy some cheese, bread and wine. We walked to the Eiffel Tower at around 7pm and did not leave our spot until the new year had come. I remember your Father. He was so happy when the clock hit twelve. We kissed and hugged and I felt he was happy, for the first time in years. It was a wonderful trip.

2) I once was lost at the Venice canals when I was at least 8 to 10 years old. I was with my Grandma and Grandfather, and for some weird reason, I took a wrong turn and boom... I was alone. The fun thing about that moment? I was not afraid. My Del Valle family has a curious sound that we do when we’re trying to locate each other. I just started whistling the chord, again and again. I heard my Grandpa, far away. Whistled again, and again. In about 3 to 5 minutes, I was with them again. Something so simple, right?

3) Again, during that trip, we took a trip through the canals. The Bridge of Sighs’s bells rang, and I sprang up at the gondola and pledged eternal love to my grandma first. I remember her laugh...

4) My uncle studied at England for many years. Twice we went to see him, and I got to explore the wonderful world of Punk culture. Blue hair, pink beards, piercings, cool weird music. It was eye opening, because it showed me, at a very early age, that the world is way different when you leave your familiar surroundings.

5) Our honeymoon was literally made in storybook paradise. We started off at Venice for three or four days, walking around and just marveling at how extremely beautiful that place is... then we took a cruise to all the Greek Islands, ending up in Santorini. I can’t even explain how incredibly beautiful that place is, how much I wanted to stay just one more day, just one more hour there. We deserved such a great place to celebrate our wedding.

6) Every time we travel with you to Disney, I remember our days as a couple without kids there. The experience is completely different. First, we were always drinking and goofing around. Second, we didn’t have a agenda or a schedule to follow. With you, it’s different. We have things we are aiming to do, we want you to enjoy the experience but without the urgency of us needing to hit every single ride. Although we do take it slow and just enjoy the days, when you are older and you come to the parks with your friends or partners, you will know how different it is when you have kids. Trust me.

7) When I hit 40 years old, I told your Dad I wanted to go to Mexico and get extremely drunk on Tequila. He delivered. We went to the amazingly beautiful - at at times, expensive - Beloved Hotel, and at my 40th birthday we spent it like kings. We started the day at Chichen Itza, and the afternoon, your Mother just drank herself silly at the hotel until I could not handle one more shot. It was a lovely way to celebrate my induction into the 40′s hall of fame.

8) One night at Camden Town, we were just beat after walking what seemed like forever. On a whim, we decided to go to the movies. Again, normal travelers don’t hit the movies because, well, they figure they have sightseeing to do. Not us. Many times we have taken a break and gone to the movies. That night, we went to see Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. We loved it, and we loved that we saw it late at night there, in London. We still talk about it to this day.

9) One rainy day in Paris, the cold had won. Our jeans were extremely wet, we had walked for hours... and we were hungry. We walked into a small restaurant, expecting to have to communicate a little just to eat... but our waiter spoke perfect spanish. We ended up eating a great, hot meal, and the waiter was so amazing, he didn’t rush us at all. We stayed at least for three to four hours, just enjoying our meal, read wine and a great conversation.

10) You cannot imagine how many great moments your father and I have had at New York City. We have been bowling, taken short naps at Central Park, have gone to see loads of movies and shows, dined at lots of amazing restaurants. But our greatest moments, the ones I miss the most? Just me and your Dad walking around at night, talking while walking. You see, your Dad and I are walking travelers. We love to walk around, to explore, to see. We love and cherish every single street, corner, park. This is where we thrive.

11) Although I don’t know if it’s still possible to do this: I climbed my way up one of the Pyramids at Mexico. Sun or Moon, I really don’t remember. What I do recall is my Grandma, announcing with lots of trepidation, that she could not make it down once we were up there. WHAT THE... “Mama, we just have to do it!”, I said, looking at her deadly serious. “You cannot stay here!” It was funny as hell, but at the end, I managed to get her down. I remember that day vividly.

12) I remember ALL of the times your father and I have celebrated the New Year in great detail.

13) Again, once in Mexico, your father and I were just almost dead drunk at the beach, doing nothing. Suddenly, I heard the most sweet version, in spanish, of “I Say a Little Prayer for you”. I stood up, walked to the DJ and asked who was singing that song. To this day, I have “Vuelvo a Pensar en ti” in my iPhone, because it reminds me of a great sunny beach day of doing absolutely nothing.

14) I remember lying on some beach in Maui, alone while your father was trying to find some beach towels, while I contemplated the incredible fact that I was going to be a mother. Just two days before our trip, I had found out that I was pregnant. For a moment there we thought that our doctor was going to cancel our trip, but I strongly believe that you are here because we took a break and relaxed, even if we were far away from home. It was our last trip as a couple. It was magical.

15) Your father proposed during a very small trip to New York City. Central Park will forever be our home because it holds that memory. Also, the city is special because that’s where you were conceived!

16) Once Thanksgiving we went to NYC with our best friends. I cannot even begin to tell you how much fun we all had, specially you! You walked around Central Park during a very well deserved picnic - with Zabar’s take out, the best! You loved the zoo, and laughed every day while your Dad carried you around the city. Fun fact, EVERYONE stopped us to say how beautiful you are. In a city famous for people not caring about anyone else, it was refreshing to see and hear a lot of people gushing about your eyes, your smile and how lovely you are. It still happens to this day.

17) Your Dad and I ate Spacecakes at Amsterdam. He did not feel a thing. I ate my part and half of his, because I too didn’t experience anything. At the end of the night, I giggled for exactly a minute and a half and went to sleep. Years after that, I learned that I have a high tolerance for Cannabis, and I don’t feel anything if I try it. Alcohol seems to be king in my domain. Besides that funny memory, I do have to say that the second most beautiful place I have ever seen in my life is that place.

18) We traveled to Cuba with you last year. Although I consider that I have a lot of perspective in life, I did learn a lot about the human experience during that trip. Cuba is just like where we live, it’s just stuck in time. Compared to our Island, we are so very much alike... and so different at the same time. The memory I cherish the most? Seeing you walk with your Dad in a place we never thought we could visit.

19) Once during the change of guards at Buckingham Palace, my grandpa was with me just in front of the gates. He started explaining how the guards were not allowed to smile, or talk to anybody. At that exact moment, something incredible happened. A guard was looking at me and winked AT ME! I started screaming and giggling! “Papa, he broke the rules!”, I yelled. Yep, one brave guard did the unthinkable. It is one of those amazing moments that you never forget.

20) Last memory of the day: your Dad and I love graffiti. While people might walk around a city and say that it’s ugly or dirty, we only see art and design in almost all of them. You have to discard Tagging, which is just someone writing a name. That’s not art, that’s not graffiti in our book. So, the best place to enjoy it? Berlin. We walked almost the whole Berlin Wall, which has many amazing art. It’s a long trek, but we enjoyed it, immensely.

Bonus round! One afternoon, while walking the Senne, we were dead tired. It was almost 2pm and we had been walking since the early morning with absolutely no rush, no agenda, no items need to be checked. When we travel, we take our time. Why? Because traveling in a hurry is no fun at all. Don’t have time to see it all? Well, plan for returning again. So there we were, exhausted. We found a small, impromptu bar just near the river. Any other tourists would have walked by in a hurry. Not us. We sat there, had a couple of rounds of red wine and did what the locals do: just talk and watch the sunset. That day, the sun gave us a show.

Well, let’s close this memories post for now. I have lots of more cool stuff to tell you about. Now that you’re older, I’m so excited to finally take you beyond the parks and cities that you already know! I want to inspire you to travel and explore the world like my grandparents taught me. The best thing in life is to get out of your comfort zone and see how incredibly beautiful life outside your home is. Do you know what will be one of the best things I can hope for? That one day, when you are older like me, you can think back to all the amazing memories we had traveling together. If I inspire you to travel as I was when I was a kid... then I did something good with my life. Te amo mucho. Mamá.

[bdotson46-blog]

Now here's a story worthy of Valentines. San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge was so loved when it opened in 1937 that a lot of people scribbled their names and addresses on its towers. A friend bet 14-year old Bill Hughes a quarter that Bill couldn’t write a letter to a name and address chosen at random and get a reply. The friend closed his eyes and put his finger on a name: Patricia Lucas. Bill wrote the letter. Decades later, Patricia Lucas rolled her eyes, assuming the attitude of the 12-year-old she was when she received Bill’s note. “Well, I thought: ‘Pen pal? Booooring!’ ” Her grandmother, the romantic in the family, urged her to write back. Eventually Patricia did, “because Bill really wanted that quarter!” A lot of people gambled on the Golden Gate, a bridge that critics said could not be built. Divers had to anchor it in raging whirlpools: Powerful riptides push more water past the bridge than roars over Niagara Falls. Workers had to stack towers taller than four Statues of Liberty in that tempest, so ships could pass underneath. Men dangled on girders 746 feet above the water, sometimes moving in fog so thick they couldn’t see their feet.  No one had ever done anything like this before.
“They didn’t have calculators, let alone computers,” bridge captain Lisa Locati told me. “They did everything with a slide rule and notes — handwritten notes, longhand.” Yet the Golden Gate Bridge was completed in just four years — on time and on budget. At the start of the Great Depression, families who lived around San Francisco mortgaged their homes to get a private loan for what would be one of the largest public works projects ever built. It linked the poverty they knew with the world of hope.      “People risked their homes, their properties, their ranches because money from the state and federal government was going elsewhere,” Lisa said. They bet big on the jobs the bridge would bring. Lisa Locati grew up four miles from the Golden Gate. She went to college on the money she earned moving lane markers on it; today she is the first woman to be in charge of its security. The bridge has had only nine captains. “I was number eight,” Mike Locati said with a smile. “And I'm married to number nine.” The bridge opened to pedestrians May 27, 1937. The following day it opened to cars. Mike watched Lisa playing with their grandkids in Golden Gate Park, then turned to snap a photo of the place they first met. The couple fell in love working on the bridge. When Mike retired a few years ago, his grandkids started calling it “Grandma’s bridge.” Lisa laughed. “It’s Pop-Pop’s bridge, too, if they remember.” To the grandkids, the Golden Gate is a place right out of their storybooks, a place where candy might magically appear. With a grin, former toll taker Peter Klein recalled: “When the cars rolled in, sometimes kids were fighting. We toll takers would tell the parents: ‘Mom and dad, we’ve got candy for the kids!’ “The kids would stop fighting immediately. And I would say: ‘This moment of silence is brought to you by the Golden Gate Bridge Transportation Authority.  Don't leave home without us!’ ”  48 years of love notes 
“It was a fun ride,” Patricia Lucas said with a sigh. “We had a great time.” Six years after Bill Hughes’ friend picked her name on the Golden Gate Bridge, she finally met her childhood pen pal. “We met in Pershing Park, down in Los Angeles,” she said. “He came on a 24-hour pass.” World War II was on, and Bill was training to be a bomber pilot. Patricia was the only person he knew who lived near his base. “Was it love at first sight?” I asked. Patricia winked. “I think I was a little disappointed that he wasn’t beefier.” But Bill started sending love notes. He did that for 48 years — all their married lives, until the day he died. "Months after he passed, I found notes here and there, in a book or in a cup up in my cupboard,” Patricia confided. “They’d say, ‘I love you.’ ” Her eyes grew moist. “Yeah, I miss him. A lot.” Their love story is forever linked with the Golden Gate Bridge. “It's just a bridge,” Patricia said with a wave of her hand. “But it’s our bridge.”

[bdotson46-blog]

Now here's a story worthy of Valentines. San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge was so loved when it opened in 1937 that a lot of people scribbled their names and addresses on its towers. A friend bet 14-year old Bill Hughes a quarter that Bill couldn’t write a letter to a name and address chosen at random and get a reply. The friend closed his eyes and put his finger on a name: Patricia Lucas. Bill wrote the letter. Decades later, Patricia Lucas rolled her eyes, assuming the attitude of the 12-year-old she was when she received Bill’s note. “Well, I thought: ‘Pen pal? Booooring!’ ” Her grandmother, the romantic in the family, urged her to write back. Eventually Patricia did, “because Bill really wanted that quarter!” A lot of people gambled on the Golden Gate, a bridge that critics said could not be built. Divers had to anchor it in raging whirlpools: Powerful riptides push more water past the bridge than roars over Niagara Falls. Workers had to stack towers taller than four Statues of Liberty in that tempest, so ships could pass underneath. Men dangled on girders 746 feet above the water, sometimes moving in fog so thick they couldn’t see their feet.  No one had ever done anything like this before.
“They didn’t have calculators, let alone computers,” bridge captain Lisa Locati told me. “They did everything with a slide rule and notes — handwritten notes, longhand.” Yet the Golden Gate Bridge was completed in just four years — on time and on budget. At the start of the Great Depression, families who lived around San Francisco mortgaged their homes to get a private loan for what would be one of the largest public works projects ever built. It linked the poverty they knew with the world of hope.      “People risked their homes, their properties, their ranches because money from the state and federal government was going elsewhere,” Lisa said. They bet big on the jobs the bridge would bring. Lisa Locati grew up four miles from the Golden Gate. She went to college on the money she earned moving lane markers on it; today she is the first woman to be in charge of its security. The bridge has had only nine captains. “I was number eight,” Mike Locati said with a smile. “And I'm married to number nine.” The bridge opened to pedestrians May 27, 1937. The following day it opened to cars. Mike watched Lisa playing with their grandkids in Golden Gate Park, then turned to snap a photo of the place they first met. The couple fell in love working on the bridge. When Mike retired a few years ago, his grandkids started calling it “Grandma’s bridge.” Lisa laughed. “It’s Pop-Pop’s bridge, too, if they remember.” To the grandkids, the Golden Gate is a place right out of their storybooks, a place where candy might magically appear. With a grin, former toll taker Peter Klein recalled: “When the cars rolled in, sometimes kids were fighting. We toll takers would tell the parents: ‘Mom and dad, we’ve got candy for the kids!’ “The kids would stop fighting immediately. And I would say: ‘This moment of silence is brought to you by the Golden Gate Bridge Transportation Authority.  Don't leave home without us!’ ”  48 years of love notes 
“It was a fun ride,” Patricia Lucas said with a sigh. “We had a great time.” Six years after Bill Hughes’ friend picked her name on the Golden Gate Bridge, she finally met her childhood pen pal. “We met in Pershing Park, down in Los Angeles,” she said. “He came on a 24-hour pass.” World War II was on, and Bill was training to be a bomber pilot. Patricia was the only person he knew who lived near his base. “Was it love at first sight?” I asked. Patricia winked. “I think I was a little disappointed that he wasn’t beefier.” But Bill started sending love notes. He did that for 48 years — all their married lives, until the day he died. "Months after he passed, I found notes here and there, in a book or in a cup up in my cupboard,” Patricia confided. “They’d say, ‘I love you.’ ” Her eyes grew moist. “Yeah, I miss him. A lot.” Their love story is forever linked with the Golden Gate Bridge. “It's just a bridge,” Patricia said with a wave of her hand. “But it’s our bridge.”