#nai brings the old man back from the dead

[noonslullabies]

the only reason i haven't jumped into the stampede fun is that I'll probably turn the old man into knive's uncle figure.

[idv-sunsxin3]

Hello! Im the anon who asked if r1999 are open, can you do a scenario or a headcanons of click (with a fem reader) who finally meet his lover again?

They been together back then since 1940's when Click was alive. reader knows click 's death. But then when vertin asked reader to join her journey, reader finally see their lover.

Click // Back in the 40s with you

Note// fem! Reader. She is 19yo like Click. angst to fluff long oneshot,,, thank you for requesting 🥺

---

It was unexpected- really.

It was not even the right time, too.

You and Click were lovers before the world conflict became very notable... You were both happy together until you had to acknowledge that it's you guys' turn to serve for the country as well...  help write the history and the legacy alongside the others. So you both started to barely see one another as you do your respective jobs.

You were one of the million women who worked as a factory worker in defence production during the 1940s, the years dominated by the war...

He was a photographer from the army who had to stay on the battlefield. You know very well how bad the war is as you have a friend who lost her husband by the war. So everyday you were always afraid, knowing how Click has to linger in places that obviously have slim chances of surviving...

Even sadder when this time, the photographer doesn't always live after, through these circumstances.

All you could do was pray and write letters to him as you contribute to the workforce...

The letters were sometimes not so long, it gets shorter as the days go by, and the war going through its climax and more problems happening on the way as well. Yet, knowing that each letter is safely delivered is enough for you to reassure you that Click is still alive.... Until one day.

By the time you came back to work- the manager suddenly motioned you to come talk with her, having a letter in her hand as they have... this look, the look of bad news.

You just... You just couldn't believe it.

As you both find themselves in the office from anyone's sight, you find yourself slowly shattering the seconds of reading the letter report given to you.

He died... Click died in action.

...You crumbled in your hands as your boss gave you small pats on your back.

.

.

.

.

'Back in the 40s...'

An old letter, the latest you wrote to Click, said,

'It was one of the happiest times of my life... Until I lost you to them."

That's what the letter started. There was more to say in that letter. Every single word carrying a huge meaning to Click.

Vertin handed it to him so he could read it. She happened to find it somewhere, noticing the letter addressed to his name abadoned in the middle of nowhere during the patrols.

"Y/N" was written as the sender's name.

'I'm not sure when I will see you again, but I'm just hoping that in our next life, we won't be as miserable as we were... And live together as much as we desire, my love.'

These words bring a familiar, tender feeling he haven't recalled for a while.

'I miss you, Click.... I always do.'

'I just hope you're out there and find this. Read this with your heart. Prove them that you're not dead.... Just as you promised me to come back home.'

He holds these words close to his soul... Even while he's not alive.

'I love you... and I'll find you if I can.

Still yours, Y/N.'

"My Rosie..."

That’s the first thing he muttered once he finished reading. His eyes dull but longing in spirit.

.

.

.

.

.

It's evening...

time to clean up.

You mentally note as you notice the items needed to be put away.

The war is over now, you were just about to pack your tools and head home by yourself.

Unfortunately, no one is going to welcome you at home. Because you already know he's gone... He did well. He was the most bravest man you have ever met and love.

Now you have to move on... How will you do that exactly?

That.. You'll have to ask that yourself later. First, you're going to need to walk back to the house safely before more accidents nay happen-

Strangely, the streets seem less crowded than usual... where are the people? Why aren't the cars moving? The sky seems to turn grey than normal - it looks like it's going to rain.

You heels quickly click on the cement floor as you hurry yourself, gripping on your purse and toolkit-

But suddenly, you notice someone from afar... A lady with light hair, wearing a suit.

I. Interesting...? It's rare to see a woman dressing this way these days.

You stopped in your steps once you start to clearly notice that she's now few steps away from, facing you, AND not seeming to intend to let you go around her.

However... she seems to not intend to harm anyone. She even has another girl beside her, ginger with sophistication, eccentric clothes that resemble an italian writer.

"Greetings," The lady says politely, fixing her calculative eyes on you, "Cloudy day, isn't it?"

By the sound of it, this lady seems to be from the UK... she must have been here for a visit.

"It is, indeed." You nod calmly, not sure what else to do other than thinking about just going home and mourning... Your eyes can notably tell they barely have any sleep, your hair tangled and unkempt from the long hours of work and questionable times to wake up and be called up for duty.

"I'm Vertin," She introduces as you both give each other a handshake, "this is Sonetto, my friend and assistant."

"Hello, Verti, Sonetto..." You lightly lift your eyebrow, wondering who are even these strangers exactly... they seem to need something from you. Noticing closer, they seem to have mature appearances of 16-yeard old girls. About 3 years younger than you.

"Good evening, miss..." Sonetto mindfully greets with a smile, "Excuse us for suddenly appearing... We need your help."

H. Help?

"Help? Oh, sweeties... What's the concern? Sadly, I really need some rest- work has been quite something." You half-heartedly apologize with a sorry smile. They seem to tell how your state doesn't seem to be in a good condition. You then remember you haven't told them your name. So you added along with a light smile at the ginger-haired girl.

"Please, call me Y/N."

That name.

That name seems to ring on Vertin once again.

Yes, this is the woman. The woman Vertin was looking.... The one Click was looking for.

The Timekeeper seem to have arrived at the right time.

"But miss Y/N- this is an emergency... I'm afraid something is going to happen--" Sonetto attempts to asks calmly, despite wearing this quite alarmed look that makes you feel almost worried... almost.

"Oh...? Right when the war have just ended...? What else are they going to do now..." You rub your chin gently as you look down at the pair in thought before your eyes morph into a horrified ones,

"...launch more missiles?"

"Ah- not exactly as we try to convey.." Sonetto shakes her head as seeming unsure of your statement, oh.

"An abnormal storm is going to arrive here anytime soon-" Vertin starts explaining, "Another war is going to happen between humans and arcanists- We need mechanics like you to help us with machinery."

"A... War? You got to be....- How do I know if you're telling the true?"

Sonetto suddenly then quietly gasps, grabbing on Vertin's hand and quickly pointing at what she's looking through your shoulder- You and Vertin followed her gaze only to see... creatures emerging one by one - Fluffly creatures???

Oh- and who are these people with strange helmets??? Are they even humans???

You seem hesitant about it, but noticing the strange anomalies in your surroundings.  You seem to tell that these kids aren't really joking as they still have seious looks on their expressions--

A part of yourself wished to live in a more peaceful place, where you would have to sacrifice much just for the people that seem to be suffering the most... why can't you just live comfortably with everyone?

But then, if you decline on joining them- what if that means you have to go back to follow under these women roles this society has been putting you and the others on? Getting married.. get married, being a housekeeper and mother- you don't want to do that, not after you have  lost your lover- and losing the reason to dream about a future with him...

You... you honestly don't want to leave your job as a riveter.

As if managing to read your mind, Vertin adds more, "...You'll get to live comfortably with us."

"...?"

"We have friends who have experienced losses as well, You'll get to do whatever you want and live peacefully as long as you get along with everyone."

'Whatever you want'...

...This is new.

It took you some minutes to think, before you eventually accepted Vertin's hand. Shaking it to seal the deal.

You'll get to have more freedom in what you do after that... while trying to move on from him.

.

.

.

Little did you know, it happened to be the contrary.

Just as you tried to start getting used to the suitcase's environment and the wide map of the Ark- there were also lots of people in it... some lingering around portraits, wearing familiar and unfamiliar clothes, people from different accents and places...

You have never thought this many people with such eccentricity would desire to seek shelter in here... but then, you admit, the domain is stylish and cozy for the warm/rainy days.

Vertin instructed you to just stay comfortable at your now new residence. So you comply, sitting on the couch after managing to find an appealing book from one of the shelves.

You were not sure why the young female pair seemed to start acting more suspicious by the time you three arrived - is there something they're hiding from you? What are their plans? Oh dear, there are so many questions you just want to ask today. Making it almost hard to read a book and concentrate on its context.

.

.

.

"Click, I need your time for a moment," Vertin calls out calmly to the ghost at the room he is in after knocking.

"...." He slowly turns back to Vertin in question before floating begrudgingly towards, wearing the same spooked look in his lifeless orbs.

"I have something to show you... someone who you would like to see." Vertin further explains as she starts to walk while the ghost follows her clueslessly.

"Someone...?" The photographer mutters a bit, puzzled by the sudden arrival of some new recruit- but then why is it him who has to be called to see them..? Would this person be willing to see him?

He doesn't think much before sighing, his camera in a slightly tight grip by the foreign feeling of being seen by someone new... He honestly hasn't moved on from his sweetheart... The person who is willing to see him.

He just doesn't want to, even if he's now a dead man, and you probably have already moved on - well, that's what he tends to believe.

Meanwhile, a kind girl dressed in a bunny outfit, "Bunny Bunny," appeared and served you a drink, which you hesitantly but kindly accepted it - meeting her was pleasantly unexpected... You were just trying out the cool drink - so far, it's pretty refreshing and flavorful.

Just as Bunny Bunny left with her tray, you kept sipping on your drink and take a look on the book... You slowly realize this book is a documentary with pictures...

Some of these pictures are familiar, like that one first picture of a tree with a cat...

You softly furrow your eyebrows before you search something from your pocket- a picture.

The picture Click took and sent you. It looks exactly like the one in the book.

You blink lightly before seeing more pictures as you flip on the pages, some familiar, and some seem to be newer ones.

The more pages of pictures you look, the more your thoughts are starting to connect-

You then immediately flip the book to the last page for any source.

'Pictures taken by Click'

Wait- this is not a typical book-! It's your boyfriend's portfolio report!

These... some of the recent pictures are dated but- the year is quite twitchy....

Your mind is going confused as you close the book carefully, looking at the cover, wondering if Click is missing.... or has been here.

...Is... he here?

Wow, the new design of the cover looks sharp nonetheless. You're so proud of him...

If only... If only he's still here with you.

...

Your silent thoughts were now no longer in your head once you thought that part. You smiled... but that smile seems to not reach your eyes, which seems to be on the verge of tearing up.

...

"Oh Click..." You trembly whispered with your late lover's name, slowly wiping your tears as you laugh quietly, "You really were serious about putting that picture of the tree cat;;;"

"...I was serious." A voice can be heard clearly. Quietly.

...Before the sound of a camera is heard from your right-

You suddenly jumped by the sudden noises before turning around to see who's beside you. The moment your eyes landed on the speaker, your eyes widened as tired, dull eyes staring back at you.

"...Y/N."

"...Click?" You replied back as your breath hitches.

Shocked, you slowly and unsteadily reached your hand out to his transparent face- which... notably seems to penetrate through his cheek, barely sensing something solid other than the chilliness of the room.

"Y/N..." Click seems to leaned down the moment your hand fails to make contact with him.

Nonetheless, he lightly hovered your hand with his as he closed his eyes, trying to imagine the familiar feeling of your soft hands as he sensed the warmth radiating out of you. "You're here."

"Click...,,," You teared up as you look up and down, your mind going crazy as you wonder why you can't even touch your lover-

"He's dead..." Vertin admits as she can be found appearing by the doorway, having a sorry look. "But he surprisingly remembers you ever since the time he came here."

You faced Vertin as she stated that your eyes showed multiple emotions before shifting them towards Click. Who is still busy nuzzling into your warmth. "How long have you been here?"

"A couple of months ago..." Click answered before finally looking up at you. His eyes are dead, but the same love they tend to hold when seeing you.

"Oh, baby.." You breath out, "What have they done to you."

"...A lot of things." Click simply answered as he fiddled with his cameras to look at the picture he took of you in your shocked expression from before, "I miss your pretty face..."

"Now now... - don't go all lovey dovey just yet,,,-" You sobbed softly but still lean your forehead on his lightly, staying closer to him. At least spiritually and visibly.

Your gaze on him softens more by the time you calm yourself, as your dear ghost lover wraps you in his arms loosely. You gently try to brush over Click's lower lip with a thumb despite being unable to feel it, looking at it silently before speaking your heart away.

"Keep loving me, I'll never stop loving you even if it means i can't kiss you now...-"

"...H...Honey..." Click quietly whispers to you, his face unfaltered, but his voice fails to not sound like he's on the verge of tearing up.

*sighs* "Lovebirds..." Vertin can be heard saying this with a hint of amusement.

"We gotta figure out how to make them kiss." Sonetto suggests.

"Good idea."

"G.Girls????"

[missjackil]

Spn Season 16

Yay or Nay

Choose 1

Explain

Eat a cookie

Hey Nonnie!! Great question!

Absolutely YAY!! I want a season 16, 17 and forever!!

I would most like nto see that Dean somehow didnt die in the barn. Somehow Sam saved him and Dean's Heaven was just a coma dream, and they could pick up where they left off. I for one hated that they had Sam die an old man, which would make it really hard to do a reboot. I dont like that there was still monsters and somehow Sam isnt fighting them and for whatever reason, monsters and demons didnt come after him with Dean being gone... that makes no sense at all.

The spin off kinda answered that question but, I didnt like the spin off so... there ya have it.

I like the idea that Dean didnt actually die, or didnt stay dead, mainly because its the easiest explaination. It means Dean actually did tell Sam everything in his dying breath confession, Sam actually heard it, and Id love to see how that would change their relationship.

Also, Sam never got to bring Dean back to life or back from the brink of death in the series. He tried his damndest but it was always someone or something else that did it.

What I wish would stop though, are the articals from Screan Rant and the like saying stupid shit like "Season 16 could work if they made a POC a strong character that doesnt get killed off, have some strong female characters that dont get killed off (guess no one told them Jody, Donna and the girls, as well as Eileen got to live) and they loosen the grip on the strictly platonic relationship between Dean and Castiel" or how they suggest they explore Deans relationship with Benny.... like.... stop bad touching my show!!!

So anyway, thats my opnion.... now wheres my cookie??

[lordleonster]

at first glance on the academy grounds, Eldigan thinks he is seeing a ghost. After all, everyone he knows should be gone or dead. And yet he'd know that silhouette and umber-colored eyes anymore. But could it be? Could it really be? Was this not life playing cruel tricks on him? Shadows, dancing in a dangerous scheme, inviting him to play, but knowing that the cannot stay. No, Eldigan cannot believe it. Refuses to. But the way Quan moves seems so lifelike. The way his smile draws in warmth reminds him od days bygone when they once shared friendship. He wants to reach out and test the waters but what if it's a false shot... But what has he left? Eldigan has already failed as a knight....As a father....as a brother... Closing his eyes, he calls out for one of his dearest allies. "Quan!" his voice starts, a bit shaky, unsure of himself. Since when has he become so insecure? That's not the stalwart knight he's known himself to be. But now, in the foreign land where he is stripped of everything and everyone he knows, who is to say? All that's left is for the man to respond. Please. "Is that really you, Quan?" Eldigan nopes - nay - prays, that the desperation is not literally dripping from his voice, but loneliness does not bode well on him. "What brings you to the officer's academy?"

Old friend of mine, where have you been? / With my knuckles tracing ebbs / I kneel before the shore. / Asking to bottle our last days together. / Like a ship out in the black sea.

Quan remembers a time when Leonster hailed at the height of its cultural surge, opening the castle gates for all to attend its open-theatre plays and stroll through hand-selected art galleries in its gardens. It was a glorious time—though its memory now rasps dry and chapped, for he is unsure if glory is the veneer of something true, or something that could be chipped away with his thumb. The voice he remembers is— was an actor in his prime rapping his knuckles against the stage floorboards, with tears so real Quan could have caught them himself. Old friend of mine.

He shakes the voice in his head, it shakes him back— as he spots him immediately. There's a sort of parting of seas when his friend walks, there's a sort of quaking of sands when his back straightens.

Where have you been?

There's a feeling that shivers and sways, holding onto a bottle with a ship inside— shaking it until the sea becomes sand. The voice inside his head becomes his own, and he feels his heart drop onto the floorboards.

"Eldigan!" He dives for it, the actor in his head dives for it. That sentimental heart of his still has its worth. Quan grips Eldigan close, one hand parsed on his shoulder, the other gripping his free hand in a tight greeting. Quan can feel the shake in the man opposite of him, and he fears the same can be said about the reflection. "You're here!" Alive! The voice in his head gasps. Where have you been?

Quan's the first to grin. It's a reassured one, a confident one. It's the one his daughter has damned. His stern brows sharpen, to pull them both by the heart back onto their feet. "Family. Of course. As you are."

"My god, you look like you've seen a ghost." His teeth show, grinning even wider. "Don't look so somber, my friend. You know I keep my promises."

On that stage, the actor cries tears so real Quan could have caught them himself. On this stage, Quan feels close. He feels Aed, he feels loss, he feels lost, he feels—

Old friend.

He feels at home. "And I said my strength was yours, whenever you would call me."

Where have you been?

[blursed-ninjago-ideas]

Kitsune au

Garmadon in the midst of the final battle with Lloyd cracked the stone sealing away the Nine Tailed Fox Empress, Lady Lavalily.

The stone holds Chamille, Kai and Nya’s very pissed off lots of great grandmother Lady Lava Lily

The first Elemental Master of Fire and Form

A beast nay demoness who infiltrated the court of Emperor Haru as a courtesan who weakened the emperor’s health over time.

Long enough to have several legitimatized daughters and a single son as heirs to the throne.

The son being the eldest child and main heir

It was not until the FSM visited the court himself he realized what had occurred to the emperor and what his chosen master of fire and form had done.

He revealed her true form and wicked nature to the court and ailing lover the emperor.

Frightened and angered she fled without her children but not before setting fire to the old capital of Ninjago.

Specifically the imperial gardens which had been created for her by the emperor holding the very Lava Lillies who made her name.

The only son and eldest daughter of the emperor having learnt about what their mother had done to their father swore to seal her away. So she may never do such things to anyone again and perhaps repent.

After doing such a harsh task the eldest son and eldest daughter gaining their mother’s elements separated and went on self imposed exiles.

The daughter gaining the element of form would later settle down with one of her father’s young samurai and give her position as heir to her younger sister.

Dedicating herself to becoming one of the most famous Onna-musha and studying spinjutzu on the side.

The son went on a self imposed exile learning the trade of black smithing and later became a holy man.

Setting up the temple and shrine seen in Ignaica managed by his descendants the Smiths. Accepting his true form and using it as a source of good as well.

But anyways Lady Lavalily is pissed and annoyed looking for revenge against the FSM. His sons will be a fine recompense for all those years sealed away from her children and throne.

She hates all of this modern drivel and especially fashions.

What happened to fashionable Juni-hitoe and geta?

Tea ceremonies and moon viewing parties.

Everything now is so unnatural and inelegant.

She must revert the realm back to its most pure and elegant form.

When Yokai were allowed to roam in their true forms and not put on this mask of being human.

She’ll turn everyone into a Yokai and what humans that remain will be a delightful meal or slaves.

Maybe she could even bring her beloved emperor back from the dead as well and rule the newly turned Yokai world properly.

Let me guess...Kai and Nya look a lot like those kids.

The question is Evil Adoption (To replace her kids), or Proxy Revenge? (To replace her kids.)

-Ivy

[chestmouth]

There's Something Down in the Old Sundiver Mine

There's Something down in the Old Sundiver Mine. There's Something about it that hangs in the waist-high waters; Leftovers from last rain that the aqueducts couldn't quite filter out. The Something isn't a man, but it's born of mens' suffering. The sound of picks striking metal from sunrise to sunset, all so the lucky ones can go home to their sheet metal shacks, with enough for a loaf of stale bread. The Something sits in every corner of every tunnel, and it feels their pain as its own, gorges itself upon it like a grand feast. One day it might even swallow itself whole for its effort.

There's Something in the Old Sundiver Mine, stretching miles upward until it breaches the surface and grasps desperately at the sky, pleading for death. The man in the clouds looks down on it as though pitying a sick dog. They lift their cold, metal mask and sip their expensive chardonnay. "Death?" They ask, "You will not meet death. You won't even chance to see him. Nay, you will cure death." Their smile stings like salting a wound. "You will build me a mountain of bodies so high that it dwarfs even I, and reaches up to the heavens; That I may throw wide the gates and bring the dead home." They cast The Something back down without another word, so that it may continue its wretched work.

There's Something in the Old Sundiver Mine; People from the tower of pitch black steel, chained to the very ground they dig. The tower is everywhere you might look, touching the sky and burrowing deep beneath the rock all at once. It injects poison and suffering into the earth, and its people are expected to uncover the poison; They carry it home with bare hands and empty heads, for the good of all men. It fills them with thoughts of Everything, an endless expanse of color and sound. The rainbow could do it no justice, and The Something pursues it desperately. It fashions mockeries from rock, tampers with its monuments, and devours men whole. Every day it grows larger, and the mountain of bodies higher, though we pray it may never reach that gate, in fear of what may lie in wait on the other side.

[badmusejail]

Gaevano Marianelle

"It's funny how the people brought back from the dead are never asked for permission."

Trigger warning for vague descriptions of grief, death, divorce, illness.

For all intents and purposes, Gaevano was an ordinary, hardworking man born long ago in Kalos to Walter and Mirabella Marianelle.

They lived a simple but pleasant life, in a village that coexisted with Pokemon but did not go out of their way to tame or train them.

Unfortunately, as humans were wont to do, Gaevano's village was attacked. An obedient young man, he quickly joined the effort to fight off the attackers.

But not all men return from battle and Gaevano was struck down, killed by a larger and more skilled opponent.

As such tragedy commonly does, it split a rift between Walter and Mirabella--but nay, not because of the death of their son, but because Mirabella refused to move past it. Walter begged his wife to mourn with him, to make peace, but Mirabella instead turned to whispers of forbidden arts, secrets her family had passed on for generations, dark magic that could possibly bring her son back.

By all law, Walter should have killed her.

He could not.

And so started a several year long hunt--Mirabella travelled the world, sought every corner, found every obscure piece of information. After all, if it was easy, everyone would do it. Along the way, she found the company of a Froslass and a Marowak; she learned all the secrets she could, and finally, she found her answer.

A vein of magic, pulsing with life, a ritual that could bring her son back.

In another continent, in an unassuming forest in a region called Viridian, she scorched her will into the ground, she called upon the strength of the damned, and demanded that reality bend to her.

The forest screamed, the ground trembled, the sky bled as nature was defiled, as life was stolen from its proper place and forced into a lost soul.

And Gaevano screamed too.

Aye, but thievery goes not unpunished--the guardian of the forest awoken by such grievance roared with unmatched rage. A guardian of life, nay it could not kill the newly revived man, but it could do much worse.

For when Maribella cast her spell, she had entwined her son's soul with the Life of the Forest and the guardian did not allow that bond to close.

What was taken would be given back.

Minute by minute, year by year.

As the effects of the spell disappeared, Maribella collapsed beside her son, and they cried. They were not both crying of happiness.

Gaevano was confused; years had passed, his father was gone, he was in a completely different place, magic was tearing through his veins, and the last thing he remembered was dying alone on the ground.

He was conflicted about the events that had transpired. Of course, he was glad to be alive, but everything felt wrong; every breath was undeserved; his body trembled with life that wasn't his, life that was slowly being taken back where it belonged.

Some days were worse than others. Some days he felt fine, almost as well as he did before, with only phantom aches of old wounds, while other days he writhed in agony, unable to stand or even sit upright, heart racing, every breath a struggle, mind trapped within a failing body.

But, they made it work.

Mirabella doted upon the child she worked so hard to bring back (to his mild annoyance) and Kanto was new and unique.

Such as the Chansey that Mirabella hunted down, presenting to Gaevano to help with his episodes of illness. Gaevano never had a Pokemon before, but the Chansey stayed loyally by his side.

It was a few years later when Gaevano met Izumi, a woman living in the mountainous area to the west. Gaevano wasn't sure how he felt about the growing tensions around the border given his past experience with war, but he he understood the passion of wanting to protect your home and was enamored with Izumi's gentle, loving personality.

They married, living within Viridian to help support the growing population and first had a daughter, followed by a sickly son a few years later. Such was a relatively peaceful life, only interrupted by Gaevano's own intermittent illness, until ...

When his son was about seven years old, Gaevano realized that his illness wasn't standard childhood sickness, but rather an extension of his very own curse.

His anger got the better of him. He blamed it on his mother--everything--and told her to get out of his family's life, proceeding to move his family back to Izumi's home village.

He couldn't handle the grief. He could accept his own illness, tainted by stolen life he never deserved, but to know his son would suffer for something entirely beyond his control broke his heart more than anything else ever had.

So did leaving them.

It was a hard choice to make.

But when his son was ten and old enough to help with some basic tasks, he knew he had to do so; that he had to find a cure.

So with a carefully packed bag, a set of warm clothes, and his Chansey by his side, he set off; on a mission to save his child, just as his mother did years ago.

[laciere]

Panthea Oscar Wilde (quite long, so under a cut)

Nay, let us walk from fire unto fire, From passionate pain to deadlier delight,--- I am too young to live without desire, Too young art thou to waste this summer night Asking those idle questions which of old Man sought of seer and oracle, and no reply was told.

For, sweet, to feel is better than to know, And wisdom is a childless heritage, One pulse of passion---youth's first fiery glow,--- Are worth the hoarded proverbs of the sage: Vex not thy soul with dead philosophy, Have we not lips to kiss with, hearts to love and eyes to see!

Dost thou not hear the murmuring nightingale, Like water bubbling from a silver jar, So soft she sings the envious moon is pale, That high in heaven she is hung so far She cannot hear that love-enrapturerd tune,--- Mark how she wreathes each horn with mist, yon late and labouring moon.

White lilies, in whose cups the gold bees dream, The fallen snow of petals where the breeze Scatters the chestnut blossom, or the gleam Of boyish limbs in water,---are not these Enough for thee, dost thou desire more? Alas! the Gods will give nought else from their eternal store.

For our high Gods have sick and wearied grown Of all our endless sins, our vain endeavour For wasted days of youth to make atone By pain or prayer or priest, and never, never, Hearken they now to either good or ill, But send their rain upon the just and the unjust at will.

They sit at ease, our Gods they sit at ease, Strewing their leaves of rose their scented wine, They sleep, they sleep, beneath the rocking trees Where asphodel and yellow lotus twine, Mourning the old glad days before they knew What evil things the heart of man could dream, and dreaming do.

And far beneath the brazen floor they see Like swarming flies the crowd of little men, The bustle of small lives, then wearily Back to their lotus-haunts they turn again Kissing each others' mouths, and mix more deep The poppy-seeded draught which brings soft purple-ridded sleep.

There all day long the golden-vestured sun, Their torch-bearer, stands with his torch ablaze And, when the gaudy web of noon is spun By its twelve maidens, through the crimson haze Fresh from Endymion's arms comes forth the moon And the immortal Gods in toils of mortal passions swoon.

There walks Queen Juno through some dewy mead, Her grand white feet flecked with the saffron dust Of wind-stirred lilies, while young Ganymede Leaps in the hot and amber-foaming must His curls all tossed, as when the eagle bare The frightened boy from Ida through the blue Ionian air.

There in the green heart of some garden close Queen Venus with the shepherd at her side, Her warm soft body like the briar rose Which would be white yet blushes at its pride, Laughs low for love, till jealous Salmacis Peers through the myrtle-leaves and sighs for pain of lonely bliss.

There never does that dreary north-wind blow Which leaves our English forests bleak and bare Nor ever falls the swift white-feathered snow, Nor ever cloth the red-toothed lightning dare To wake them in the silver-fretted night When we lie weeping for some sweet sad sin, some dead delight.

Alas! they know the far Lethaan spring The violet-hidden waters well they know, Where one whose feet with tired wandering Are faint and broken may take heart and go, And from those dark depths cool and crystalline Drink, and draw balm, and sleep for sleepless souls, and anodyne.

But we oppress our natures, God or Fate Is our enemy. we starve and feed On vain repentance---O we are born too late! What balm for us in bruised poppy seed Who crowd into one finite pulse of time The joy of infinite love and the fierce pain of infinite crime.

O we are wearied of this sense of guilt, Wearied of pleasure's paramour despair, Wearied of every temple we have built, Wearied of every right, unanswered prayer, For man is weak; God sleeps; and heaven is high; One fiery-coloured moment: one great love; and lo! we die.

Ah! but no ferry-man with labouring pole Nears his black shallop to the flowerless strand, No little coin of bronze can bring the soul Over Death's river to the sunless land, Victim and wine and vow are all in vain, The tomb is sealed; the soldiers watch; the dead rise not again.

We are resolved into the supreme air, We are made one with what we touch and see, With our heart's blood each crimson sun is fair, With our young lives each spring-impassioned tree Flames into green, the wildest beasts that range The moor our kinsmen are, all life is one, and all is change.

With beat of systole and of diastole One grand great life throbs through earth's giant heart, And mighty waves of single Being roll From nerveless germ to man, for we are part Of every rock and bird and beast and hill, One with the things that prey on us, and one with what we kill.

From lower cells of waking life we pass To full perfection; thus the world grows old: We who are godlike now were once a mass Of quivering purple flecked with bars of gold, Unsentient or of joy or misery, And tossed in terrible tangles of some wild and wind-swept sea.

This hot hard flame with which our bodies burn Will make some meadow blaze with daffodil, Ay! and those argent breasts of shine will turn To water-lilies; the brown fields men till Will be more fruitful for our love to-night, Nothing is lost in nature, all things live in Death's despite.

The boy's first kiss, the hyacinth's first bell, The man's last passion, and the last red spear That from the lily leaps, the asphodel Which will not let its blossoms blow for fear Of too much beauty, and the timid shame Of the young bridegroom at his lover's eyes,---these with the same

One sacrament are consecrate, the earth Not we alone hath passions hymeneal, The yellow buttercups that shake for mirth At daybreak know a pleasure not less real Than we do, when in some fresh-blossoming wood We draw the spring into our hearts, and feel that life is good.

So when men bury us beneath the yew Thy crimson-stained mouth a rose will be, And thy soft eyes lush bluebells dimmed with dew, And when the white narcissus wantonly Kisses the wind its playmate some faint joy Will thrill our dust, and we will be again fond maid and boy.

And thus without life's conscious torturing pain In some sweet flower we will feel the sun, And from the linnet's throat will sing again, And as two gorgeous-mailed snakes will run Over our graves, or as two tigers creep Through the hot jungle where the yellow-eyed huge lions sleep

And give them battle! How my heart leaps up To think of that grand living after death In beast and bird and flower, when this cup, Being filled too full of spirit, bursts for breath And with the pale leaves of some autumn day The soul earth's earliest conqueror becomes earth's last great prey.

O think of it! We shall inform ourselves Into all sensuous life, the goat-foot Faun The Centaur, or the merry bright-eyed Elves That leave their dancing rings to spite the dawn Upon the meadows, shall not be more near Than you and I to nature's mysteries, for we shall hear

The thrush's heart beat, and the daisies grow, And the wan snowdrop sighing for the sun On sunless days in winter, we shall know By whom the silver gossamer is spun, Who paints the diapered fritillaries, On what wide wings rrom shivering pine to pine the eagle flies.

Ay! had we never loved at all, who knows If yonder daffodil had lured the bee Into its gilded womb, or any rose Had hung with crimson lamps its little tree! Methinks no leaf would ever bud in spring But for the lovers' lips that kiss, the poets' iips that sing.

Is the light vanished from our golden sun, Or is this dadal-fashioned earth less fair, That we are nature's heritors, and one With every pulse of life that beats the air? Rather new suns across the sky shall pass, New splendour come unto the flower, new glory to the grass.

And we two lovers shall not sit afar, Critics of nature, but the joyous sea Shall be our raiment, and the bearded star Shoot arrows at our pleasure! We shall be Part of the mighty universal whole, And through all aons mix and mingle with the Kosmic Soul!

We shall be notes in that great Symphony Whose cadence circles through the rhythmic spheres, And all the live World's throbbing heart shall be One with our heart; the stealthy creeping years Have lost their terrors now, we shall not die, The Universe itself shall be our Immortality.

[mlobsters]

supernatural s8e18 freaks and geeks (w. adam glass)

it's todd! (i hear he's doing good stuff in the white lotus but i haven't seen it)

the magicians s4e2 lost, found, fucked - adam dimarco as todd

(with our good pal the alpha vampire, rick worthy who is The Best and is so good in that show just talk to me if you wanna watch through end of s4 🥴)

SAM Yeah. Um, Cas dinged you up pretty good. DEAN And? SAM And I just wanted to make sure you're okay. DEAN What, like my feelings? SAM If that's what you want to talk about, sure.

DEAN Okay. I'll tell you what. Why don't I go get some, uh, herbal tea. SAM Okay. DEAN And you can find some Cowboy Junkies on the dial. SAM Eat me, Dean. DEAN And you know what? We'll just talk it out. Good talk. DEAN gets out of the IMPALA and starts walking toward the Sheriff station after SAM. DEAN Nay, great talk! Very healthy!

this is the part of the fic where sam takes him seriously and gets the tea and music and then dean has a breakdown and they cry and kiss it out

baby teen wolf paige back again and think i heard dean's extra big brother mode boot up

KRISSY You know, he does, actually. Oh. A small town called "kiss my ass." AIDEN Okay. But... You sure were giving off a different vibe in the car.

real making out in the car with fake feelings as vampire bait.. and she's how old again? wiki says 15. yeah.... and apparently her dad is dead now too. okay.

KRISSY Look, I don't need you to save me, Dean. I'm not a little kid anymore.

the hug, the mantra. i've watched enough cult documentaries by now....

this is so hamfisted. look how this dude is doing the exact opposite to how sam and dean were raised in hunting. beautiful stable home, hugs, affirmations, schoolwork, mr rogers cardigan. got it, show!!

DEAN This is crazy. SAM Is it? They got a pretty good life. DEAN Kids aren't supposed to hunt, Sam. SAM We did. DEAN Yeah, and look what that did for us. SAM Well, maybe they're doing it right. Maybe they can hunt and have a real life. DEAN You know that's not true. SAM Why, 'cause it didn't work for us? DEAN Because it doesn't work for anybody.

back at this old chestnut

VICTOR You want any? SAM Uh, I don't know. VICTOR pulls out a wallet and starts to bring out pictures of his family. VICTOR Trust me, the answer's yes. SAM These yours? VICTOR Yeah. Well, until we went camping and a Wendigo ripped them to shreds.

trust me, you want kids, here's mine who were brutally murdered by monsters that you also hunt.

VICTOR But you know what I realized, Sam, is that these kids, they don't have to live it the way we have. You know, crappy hotel rooms, always moving, no family, no life. It's not the only way.

is this the very special episode where we (sam) learns that no, you can't live another way, trouble comes home and wipes out your family if you try

or the very special episode where paige learns that things aren't always black and white and maybe a 15 year old can't really do the due diligence

daily thank you that his sideburns have been wrangled. cardigan man up to no good, quelle surprise

cardigan man's logic is not logicking. in the slightest. get a bunch of kids orphaned, get them to kill more innocent people for training. what. right after he scoffed at sam not being able to understand because he doesn't have kids. sam, if you had kids, you'd understand why i had to kill these other kids >:(

jackles sounds like he got padalecki's cold from a couple episodes ago lol

just gonna ignore how that all ended and say the bits with dean and paige were sweet at the end.

DEAN They're hunters now. You don't just walk away from that. There's only one way out of that,and you and I both know it ain't pretty. SAM Maybe they'll be different. DEAN Or maybe if we shut that hell hole once and for and all, those three can have a real life.

lol hero shot "maybe i too could have a real life if we close the gates of hell..."

(nevermind vampires etc wouldn't be affected????)

[remnants-of-a-star]

Path of Light: Alastair Magnus

-Post-ARR: 2.1-

The Drowning Wench was bustling as usual-pirates, merchants, and adventurers chatting, drinking, making deals-most too drunk or busy with their own affairs to notice the duskwight sitting alone, watching the other patrons with vague interest. It was a louder environment than he would prefer, but suitable for his current needs, though he could do without the stench of sea water and ale.

"Master Magnus, I presume?"

Alastair looked up from his tea and smiled at the older elezen approaching his table. The man was battle worn, and kind around the eyes, and when he smiled in return, he almost seemed much younger than he was.

“‘Tis an honor to be invited for a drink by one of the Warriors of Light. Should I assume Master Teakettle will not be joining us?”

“He has other,” Alastair coughed and averted his gaze as he spoke, a slight tinge of red catching his dark cheeks, “matters to attend to.”

The older man laughed good-naturedly and took a seat across from the younger elezen, flagging down a waitress to order some mead.

“Must be difficult to manage all the new admirers, eh?”

“That’s- well-” Alastair spluttered, taking a large gulp of tea to avoid answering.

He let out another laugh just as the waitress quickly returned with his mead. He thanked her and she wandered off to assist another table.

When they were certain she was out of earshot, Alastair cleared his throat.

"I apologize for making you come all this way, Ser Fiannaux,” he said to restart the conversation.

“Pray think nothing of it, lad,” Ser Fiannaux smiled, “I’m not that frail yet. A little journey will not kill me.”

“Even so, please allow me to pay for your drinks. It’s the least I could do.”

“Come now, lad, I didn’t come all this way to force the savior of the realm to pay for my weight in drinks. Especially not after the good deed you’ve done for House Haillenarte. If anything, I should be paying for YOUR drinks,” the knight said with a chuckle. “Think of this as repayment for saving young Lord Francel, eh?”

“If... if you’re certain...”

“I am.” Ser Fiannaux took a long swig from his tankard. “Ah... Well worth the trip for this alone, I say. Glad for the excuse.” His eyes focused back onto Alastair. “Now, what did you wish to discuss?”

“Lord Haurchefant tells me you are rather familiar with the Temple Knights under the employ of House Haillenarte from the last 20 years, would that be accurate?”

“I would argue much, much longer, but, aye, that I am.”

“Would you happen to be familiar with Ser Lorront de Bauvedine?”

The old knight smiled fondly.

“Ah, now that name brings me back,” he said, “Ser Lorront was my pupil as a matter of fact.”

“By the Fury...! Truly?”

“Aye,” a mischievous smile crossed his face, “I was also one of the few he told about his dear Arianne.”

Alastair’s eyes widened as Ser Fiannaux nodded knowingly, eyes twinkling.

“’Twas clear to me the moment I walked in what this might be about: you look very much like your father, Master Magnus.”

“I... I see... I...” Alastair took a deep breath to compose himself, “I wanted to know what became of him.”

Ser Fiannaux’s smile faded and shook his head.

“He was confirmed dead in the Western Highlands shortly after you fled, I’m sorry to say,” he placed the tankard back on the table and folded his hands in front of him. “I was away on another mission at the time, so I cannot confirm this for myself, but I heard the details from other knights upon my return. Sorry state of the world for someone like him to be called a heretic...”

“I see.” Alastair’s voice was shockingly steady, but the way his eyes drifted to the cup in his hands betrayed his emotion.

There was a pause as the knight eyed him sadly.

“I’m sorry this wasn’t the answer you wanted to hear.”

Alastair sighed.

“Nay. I would have been far more surprised if he had survived. I’m simply glad for the confirmation.” Alastair paused, putting down his cup entirely and looking back to Ser Fiannaux. “Do you know if he was buried?”

“Not as far as I’m aware, no. It sounded to me his body was left to the birds and dragons,” the knight took another sip of mead, thoughtfully. “I did search a few times since, but the Highlands are vast and I never could find him. Asking around would have been begging for trouble. Then, of course, the calamity hit, and well. These old bones can’t move forever. Never did too well in that kind of cold.”

“I understand.”

Another pause.

“Your father was a good man, you know. I’m sure if he were still here, he would be very proud of what you’ve accomplished thus far.”

Alastair smiled sheepishly.

“I’m honored.”

“How is your mother, by the way? I haven’t heard from her since, she isn’t...?”

“She passed in the Calamity, I’m sorry to say.” Alastair looked away at these words.

“Ah... a shame. She was a wonderful woman.”

Alastair nodded, soundlessly. Ser Fiannaux hesitated for a moment as if he wished to say more, but decided not to press it.

“Well,” the knight drained his cup and stood, “retired or no, I still have duties I ought to hurry back to. Do take care, young Alastair. May Halone continue to guide you. And do not be a stranger! I would be more than willing to part some memories of your parents next we meet!”

Alastair smiled.

“I would like that very much, Ser. Thank you.”

The knight left some gil on the table for his drink before turning and walking out of the tavern, leaving Alastair alone with his thoughts.

Alastair sat for a while longer, contemplating. Eventually, he drank the rest of his tea, stood, and took his leave.

[cloudberry-sims]

A Decade Through Time: The Alderberg Legacy: Year 1582 part 1

This update is long and dramatic , hence it being a part 1 ... you will understand why in this part. 

From the Beginning I Currently

It was early morning when William and Rebecca woke up to a something pounding on their front door. 

It was Rebecca’s mother , teary eyes and shacking with a letter of fine parchment in hand.

Joan: A-a messenger came knocking on m-my door asking f-for Nicholas , but he’s in Champ-Le sims so I opened it..! Watcher why! Why her?! 

Not knowing what Joan was talking about , William gently asked for the letter as she hugged Rebecca.

Reading the first few lines of the elegant handwriting made William understand why his mother-in-law was so distressed. 

Rebecca: William , what is it? What is in that letter to make mother so hysterical? 

William: It’s from Susanna’s employer in Praveen... She past away last week. 

Rebecca: W-what..?! H-how did this happened? Was she ill, injured-MURDERED?! 

William was hesitant to answer , knowing how upset this made Joan and probably Rebecca too , but what choice did he have , the truth needed to be said and heard. 

William: Rebecca... Susanna died in childbirth. She gave birth to a little girl. 

Rebecca: Nonsense! I-I would have known if she was married or expecting a child! 

Those words made her mother cry even more , then the realization hit Rebecca. 

Rebecca: No... Susie would never have a child and not be m-married...This letter has to be full of lies - spreading falsehood about my sister! She’s not dead nor has a child! 

William: Rebecca , I know this must be hard - 

Rebecca: SHUT IT! 

Joan: Stop it , Rebecca! It’s signed by Sir Cyprian Segrave h-himself! Oh watcher m-my little Susie! What will become of her child , the poor little tot...? 

Indeed , what will become of the child? As William continue to read the letter , it asked for Nicholas or another male member of the Chelsey family to collect the babe soon. With Nicholas off in Champ Le Sims it could take months... Unless William went instead. 

William: Mother , if you wish i will go and collect Susanna’s daughter. I am after all her uncle as well , though only through marriage. Hopefully if I show this letter he will believe me. I bring her home , I promise. 

Joan was speechless but sighed in relief , thanking William over and over again. Rebecca was angry but said not a word.  

Because of the heavy winter snow , traveling would be difficult and the only option William had was via boat. He bought a  old wooden sailing boat and just hoped it wouldn’t leak. 

It had been 19 years since William last was in Praveen , though he cannot remember if he ever been in the main city. 

He walked the empty streets until he found the address of the household Susanna had worked for , and greeted by a servant who told him to go to Sir Segraves office. 

William thought it odd that the noble man wished to speak to him about a illegitimate child , perhaps to get information about the girls father? 

Sir Segrave: Good day , are you Nicholas Chelsey perhaps? 

William: Nay sir , I’m William Alderberg- my wife is the sister of Susanna. Nicholas is in Champ Le Sims at the moment. I have the letter you wrote with me. 

Sir Segrave: Please have a sit , Mister Alderberg.  

As William walked in , he noticed the basket sitting on the wooden bench with the infant inside, dressed in fine cloth. Looking at the little girl made William think back to Margery and Wilmot as newborns. 

" Does she have a name , sir ?"

The noble nodded ,  continuing doing his paper work. 

Sir. Segrave: Her mother died before giving one , so I named her Ursula after my dearly departed sister. Please sit down , we have some things to discuss. 

Sir Segrave: I should properly introduce myself- I’m sir Cyprian Segrave , a member of the Praveen counsel. As I was miss Chelsey’s employer I feel it’s was my duty to inform the Chelsey family , as well as your own about the girl’s sudden and tragic death. 

William nodded , yet still he felt something was off. 

William: We are thankful for letting us know about Susanna and her child , but why is that you didn’t send her back home to Outland? 

Sir Segrave: Miss Chelsey hid her pregnancy well , none of the staff knew until she went into labor. If I had known I would have sent her back to her mother or negotiating with the father , who ever the man might be , to take responsibility. 

William: And her body?

Sir Segrave: Miss Chelsey’s body has been sent off to be prepared for the journey back to Outland , though I fear it might take until spring for it to return.  

Cyprian placed a big coin purse on top of his desk and wrote something on a piece of paper.

Sir Segrave: As I could not find out who the father was , this money is for Ursula’s dowry ,see it as my condolences towards the Chelsey family“

This made William speechless as he looked at the gold coin on the mans desk. He didn’t move to collect it though , as he took Ursula out of the basket. 

William: “ May I ask a question , before we depart to never see one another again?”

Sir Segrave: Yes. 

William: Are you Ursula’s father? - The dowry , giving the child a name of sentiment to you , you let her stay in your office while doing paper work when a servant could easily been watching her. You care for this child , yet you don’t acknowledge her as your own? Why? 

The noble man paused for a moment , and caressed the baby’s cheek before removing himself to stand by the window. 

Sir Segrave: I am a man who many would love to hurt , mr Alderberg , and the easiest way to harm someone is through the people they care about, that is the reason why I cannot acknowledge her as my own, and I beg of you to keep take this to your grave...

William said nothing , not completely understanding the nobles words , yet nodded. He took the coin purse and started to walk towards the door a question escaping his lips. 

William: Did you love Susanna?

Sir Segrave: No... But I’m sorry for what happened to her and I will carry that guilt until I die , yet I am grateful for this child... Take care of her... Do what I cannot do. Farewell Mr Alderberg.      

Once the young man left the room , the noble let out a heavy sign as he watch the snow fall through city. 

Sir Segrave: May the watcher smile upon you , my sweet girl. 

Man , what a twist! 

Reason for this little secret is simple - When I add family to my sims spouses (parents/siblings/extra children) I roll between , let say with Susanna who started in my game as a child , which is 6 years old  and 70. 

Susanna rolled 23 (technically a 21 , but I felt 1580 had to much things happening) and I decided she would die from childbirth. The baby was always meant to go to Rebecca because children who lost their mother would not always stay with the father , either going to willing family members who can take care of a newborn , hire a wet-nurse or other methods of providing for the child. This has even happen in my own family just 100 years prior , so I believe it would be very much a thing back in the 16th century , perhaps even more so. 

For baby Ursula , she is now going to be under the guardianship of her aunt and uncle , at least for the time being , she might be shipped off to live with with her grandmother but I haven’t decided yet. 

At first I wanted Susie to be married , but then I looked at her traits being unlucky and flirty which just screams tragedy/love affair to me.  

I think I’m gonna love Ursula just by her story alone , I hope she will live through all her rolls. 

[fisksaturday]

alright buckle in this art dump’s a doozy

so my friend @cryptidwizard​ has very good zak monday headcanons and i also have zak monday headcanons that i dont think entirely match up with his but yea. also im gonna call him kaz for the rest of this post bc i dont feel like full-naming him

so, the basic gist of it is at the end of T.G.I.S., feedback uses his powers to take the energy away from argost and rekill him, but he just shoots the energy up into the sky. now, you might think, “what gave argost his powers was kaz’s anti-kur energy, nay, his soul, so where did it go?” and the answer here is that it went back to where it belongs

even though the body is six feet under and has been dead for three years

so as a mirror world version of zak, kaz never stopped reflecting what zak looks like, so even though he’s dead he still grew into a sixteen year old’s body. it’s magic dont worry about it

so kaz, upon waking up from death, is like. man. i cant believe zak saturday didnt stop argost from killing me >:/ im gonna go get revenge

and that brings us to. the silly part that goes really off the rails with being canon divergent

albedo finds him! here, kaz’s body failed him as he was trying to cross the street, and he got so angry that he just laid down in the middle of the road. what you need to understand is as much as kaz is zak’s reflection, he was also dead for three years. his body is prone to malfunction, since he’s basically his own ghost possessing his own dead body.

another side effect to being dead for three years is that kaz is very much a thirteen year old still, even though his body is sixteen. compare this to albedo being an adult man in a sixteen year old body i just think thats funny

they have a complicated relationship. albedo isn’t great at caring for others (though i am going more with his ua characterization than ov) and kaz is. an extremely broken little guy. i think the rest of these drawings were drawn with song lyrics in mind

“didn’t they want your blood? so why apologize when you turn blue and cold?”

“so i have you to blame for this pain in my chest?”

“i love how you are lonely help me help you hold me”

oh no i can only have ten pictures in one post. oh no

(part 2)

[lailoken]

“Elder (Sambucus nigra), also known as boor or bour tree.

Elder is one of the most enigmatic plants in British folk tradition. On one hand it is feared and associated with WITCHES and on the other it is valued for its protective qualities, as a fly repellent, and for its use in many herbal remedies.

The whole plant hath a narcotic smell; it is not well to sleep under its shade. [Withering, 1776: 186]

[In Leitrim, Waterford and the south of Ireland] the elder or 'bore' tree is believed to have been the tree from which Judas Iscariot hanged himself. The proof of which is the fact that its leaves have an 'ugly smell', and, moreover, that its fruit has since degenerated from its original size and excellent flavour, and become worthless both as to size and taste. [Anon., 1916: 425]

It was said at Beckley that if you burn elder wood you will become bewitched. You never cut it down. In Wootton they say that the elder is a witch tree. You should not mend a wattle hedge with it, as it will give the witches power. If you cut it, it will bleed. [Oxfordshire Women's In- stitute groups, 1950s]

Unlucky to burn Tramman [elder], it is the FAIRIES’ tree. [Lezayre, Isle of Man, c.1975; Manx Folklife Survey]

Normally in the Isle of Man elder is the fairies' tree which is unlucky to cut down, or burn when fallen. I was told in 1992 by a forestry worker of his pleasure that a large elder had blown over into the field adjoining his garden and thus relieved him of the need to find someone willing to remove it. [Union Mills, Isle of Man, October 1993]

Elder flowers—it is alright to pick the flowers for wine or culinary use, but the tree is a friend of witches and the wood should never come into the house. [Ashreigney, Devon, July 1983]

Elder—unlucky to bring either flowers or wood into a house: (a) because it is the witches' tree, (b) because it was believed that Judas Iscariot hanged himself from an elder tree, (c) because if you fall asleep under elder flowers the scent will poison you or you will never wake up. [Driffield, Humber- side, March 1985]

Collecting firewood from the hedges surrounding the cottage and returning happily laden, but being accused of bringing bits of elder into the house—it was considered unlucky to use these to light a fire. [Bow Street, Dyfed, October 1984]

The only unlucky plant which I have heard of is the elder tree, which the old people looked upon as unlucky. As I have heard the old people say, it was unhealthy to have an elder tree growing near the house as it was often noted the inhabitants seemed more prone to TUBERCULOSIS or 'Consumption' as it was known in Ireland in the old days. However, as TB was rampant all over the country at that time, I don't know if the belief would have any significance. My own people however would not cut down an elder bush or burn it no matter how old or rotten it was. Nor allow an elder stick in the house, and it would be an unforgivable act to strike a child or even an animal with one. [Kill Village, Co. Kildare, October 1984]

The family name dies out on the property where the elder grows in the kitchen garden. [Skibbereen, Co. Cork, January 1993]

Do you know the Rollright Stones in Oxfordshire? You can't count them; you never get the same number twice. In the next field there is a big stone called King Arthur, and there are various stones called after his Knights around. There are some elder bushes nearby. We used to go there as children on our bicycles and try to count the stones. We were told that if we picked a flower or a berry from these elderberry bushes we would be turned into stone. We used to dare each other to pick a berry or a flower, but no one ever did. [Mitcham, Surrey, May 1986]

However, in the early part of the nineteenth century:

On Midsummer Eve, when the 'eldern' tree was in blossom, it was a custom for people to come up to the King Stone and stand in a circle. Then the 'eldern' was cut, as it bled 'the King moved his head.' [Evans, 1895: 20]

Sometimes it was thought that wood, berries, or flowers could be safely taken from an elder only if the tree's permission had been sought first.

Hearing one day that a baby in a cottage close to my own was ill, I went across to see what was the matter. Baby appeared right enough, and I said so; but its mother promptly explained. 'It were all along of my maister's thick 'ed; it were in this how: t'rocker cummed off t'cradle, an' he hedn't no more gumption than to mak' a new ’un out on illerwood without axing the Old Lady's leave, an' in coorse she didn't like that, and she came and pinched t'wean that outrageous he were a'most black i' t' face; but I bashed 'un off, an putten an' esh 'un on, an' t'wean is as gallus as owt agin.' This was something quite new to me, and the clue seemed worth following up. So going home I went straight down to my backyard, where old Johnny Holmes was cutting up firewood—‘chopping kindling,' as he would have said. Watching the opportunity, I put a knot of elder-wood in the way and said, 'You are not feared of chopping that are you ?' 'Nay, he replied at once, 'I bain't feared of choppin' him, he bain't wick (alive); but if her were wick I dussn't, not without axin’ the Old Gal's leave, not if it were ever so'.. . (The words to be used are): 'Oh, them's slape enuff.' You just says, 'Owd Gal, give me of thy wood, and Oi will give some of moine, when I graws inter a tree.' [Heanley, 190I: 55]

If you chop an elder tre e or fell it, you should bow three times and say:

Old Woman, Old Woman, Give me some of your wood And when I am dead I'll give you some of mine. [Whitwick, Leicestershire, August 1983]

[Staffordshire, 1930s:] my mother said it was the thing if one wanted blossoms or fruit from an elder tree to say 'Please Mother Elder may I have .. .' [Ponsanooth, Cornwall, November 1993]

In addition to records of elder being inauspicious, there are many rec- ords of it being a beneficial, protective tree.

[In Northumberland] an old man told me that his aunt used to keep a piece of bour tree, or elder, constantly in her kist (chest) to prevent her clothes from malign influence. [Hardy, 1895: 325]

In south Wales it was deemed very dangerous to build any premises on or near the spot where an eldertree stood. In the past an elder planted before the door of a cow-shed or stable protected the cows and horses from witchcraft and sorcery. [Trevelyan, 1909: 103]

[In Scotland elder was] often planted near old crofts and cottages as protection from witches. [Webster, 1978: 342]

[In Guernsey elder] had to be planted as near as possible to the back door, the most used entrance, since it was a sacred tree and a good protection against witchcraft. [McClintock, 1987: 33]

[In Ireland] it is considered lucky to have an elderberry bush grow near your house, especially if it is "self-set'. [Bracknell, Berkshire, August 1984]

Mother used elder leaves to make a pattern on the floor-bricks. Painting around them with red paint. Making the cross with elder leaves. This was an old custom, going back to her grandmother's time, so the custom had to be continued despite the time-consuming nature of the work. [Bow Street, Dyfed, March 1984]

Elder: this was called Boortree... The leaves were boiled and the water used to dose pigs. For this purpose, and because it was supposed to be a protection against LIGHTNING, there was a tree of it at every house. It can still be seen growing in places where there are no houses now, but where houses were years ago. [Lenamore, Co. Longford, April 1991]

Family folklore passed on to me includes . . . one should plant a ROWAN and elder tree and never cut them down, in order to keep witches away. [Parkstone, Dorset, June 1991]

I can remember as a child elder growing around the wooden bottom-of-the-garden 'lavvy' at my uncle's farm near Brentwood, Essex, and many other similar loos with elder adjacent. I was told that the elder would live 'almost for ever', as if one root died off another would spring from a fallen branch or twig. They were treated with 'respect' as they kept away bad magic—no one used the word 'witches'—but the inference was there. [Yafforth, North Yorkshire, January 1990]

More usually elder trees were planted around toilets and other build ings to deter FLIES.

Elder bushes are invariably to be seen outside the dairy windows on the north side of old-fashioned farmhouses in the Midlands. This was done because elder-leaves are supposed to be very objectionable to flies, wasps and other insects, the tree thus provided both shade and protection. For the same reason a switch of elder with leaves on is used when taking or driving a swarm of bees. [N &Q, 11 ser. 12: 489, 1915]

When inspecting a slaughter house [in Cornwall] a summer or two ago, I commented on the absence of flies, and was told that this was due to a large elder bush growing some feet away and that branches of elder in any building would keep flies away. [Peter, 1915: 123]

An elderberry tree was always grown near the house—I think it was to keep flies away. [Didcot, Oxfordshire, February 1991]

According to some friends of mine elderberry bushes were planted by water butts and outside privies so that the smell would keep the flies away. [Horseheath, Cambridgeshire, April 1991]

As a youth my late father worked on the land...Often handling horses it was common practice to tie bunches of elder leaves to the harness to ward off flies. [St Osyth, Essex, February 1989]

My wife, who comes from Northumberland, tells me that her mother used to make up a concoction with elder flower when she was a child. All the family washed their faces in it to keep virulent Northumbrian midges at bay. She remembers it smelling not too pleasant, and tended to keep other children away as well, so she would take the first opportunity to wash it off! [Hexham, Northumberland, June 1988]

About twelve years ago in Girton, Cambridge, a small swarm of bees (apparently known as a 'cast') settled on a plum tree in our garden, about six feet up. A neighbour, Mr C. G. Puck (now 84 years old), a retired shepherd and lifelong beekeeper, came to collect the bees. He removed the queen bee from the swarm and placed her under a small open wooden box inverted on the ground under the tree. He then asked for a sprig of elder and laid this about nine inches above the swarm, saying that the smell of it was disliked by bees, and by the early evening all the bees had moved into the box . . . He had learned of the use of elder in this fashion from his beekeeper father, in his native village of Thriplow, south Cambridgeshire. [Girton, Cambridge, May 1988]

On the Isle of Man:

Each old cottage has a 'trammon', or elderberry tree, outside the door. This is used by the 'Phynodderree' to swing in. He is a kind of faun who can bring much luck, and even helps materially in outside work. [Daily News, 27 January 1926]

[Fairies] liked most of all to swing and play in the elder trees, and these were always thought of as fairy trees in the Isle of Man. There wasn't a house or farm that didn't have its 'tramman' tree planted by the door or in the garden 'for the fairies'. Many of them are still to be seen; the single tree will soon have grown into a thicket, hiding the old ruined house, but a sure sign that a house once stood there . . . When the wind was blowing the branches, it was then that the fairies were believed to be riding the tramman trees, but it was said that they would desert a house or a farm where the trees had been cut down. This must have happened only very rarely: no-one would cut a branch of the tramman, let alone the tree itself, but if it was done the fairies grieved. [Killip, 1975: 35]

Regardless of whether elder is considered to be malevolent or protec- tive, most of the folk beliefs associated with the tree appear to be con- cerned with its protection and preservation. Two quotations from herbalists writing in the 1940s demonstrate the value of the elder tree.

[According to my [g*psy] friend] the healingest tree that on earth do grow be the elder, them sez, and take it all round I should say 'twas. [Quelch, 1941: 78]

[Elder has] the unusual distinction of being useful in every part. [Ransom, 1949: 55]

Thus it is possible that the various folk beliefs associated with elder were due, at least in part, to efforts to protect a valuable resource.

The period when elder flowered was sometimes considered to be a time when the weather was poor. In the Basingstoke area of Hampshire this time was known as the elderbloom winter [Maida Hill, Lon- don, December 1982], while in Cheshire:

Weather prophets say that if the weather breaks while the elder-flowers are coming out, it will be soaking wet (in Cheshire parlance, drabbly) until they fade. [Hole, 1937: 49]

Francis Bacon (1561–1626) recorded: 'They say' WARTS can be removed by rubbing them 'with a Green Elder Sticke and then bury- ing the Sticke to rot in Mucke' [Bacon, 1631: 258]. Similarly:

A 15-year-old girl, writing in 1954, says that her grandfather told her to pick a small twig of elderberry, touch her warts with it, chant the words, “Wart, wart, on my knee, Please go, one, two, three” and put it 'down the toilet'. [Opie, 1959: 315]

Elder is, perhaps, the wild plant most widely used in folk medicine.

Queen of all Forest [of Dean] remedies was 'ellum blow tea'...The flowers were gathered in the spring and hung up to dry in closed paper bags ... in the kitchen ... You dared not sneeze in the winter or down came the bag, a good handful was put in a jug, covered with boiling water, covered with a tea towel, and left to infuse. One had to force this evil-smelling brew down one's throat willy-nilly. I loathed it, and to this day can recall that smell of cats which emanated from it. Poultices of the mixture were used for SPRAINS, aches, etc., in joints, also for boils and 'gathered' fingers—whitlows and so on. It seemed to be a universal panacea; the only use it didn't have was for constipation . . . Elder berries were favoured too; they were boiled up with sugar, the resulting syrup strained, bottled, and used in winter for coughs and colds . . .There is not a Forester alive over the age of 70 who does not know ellum blow tea. [Cinder- ford, Gloucestershire, November 1993]

Elder berries when fried with mutton fat are used for BOILS and ULCERS. [IFCSS MSS 414: 43, Co. Clare]

Elder root when boiled and the water drank supposed to cure RHEUMAT- ISM. [IFCSS MSS 700: 35, Co. Meath]

An infusion of elder flowers in boiling water will alleviate PILES. [Horsted Keynes, West Sussex, February 1991]

A green ointment could be made from the leaves, based on mutton fat, and the creamy white flowers made Elderflower Water for the complexion. The flowers, dried in the sun and stored in a paper bag make a good remedy to break a hard COUGH and bring up phlegm. I always pick and dry some when they are in bloom, put the full of your fingers (one hand) in a mug, pour boiling water over and let it infuse for ten minutes. A little milk or fruit juice can be added. [Lenamore, Co. Longford, April 1991]

For flus and FEVERS

40 oz whiskey bottle. Pick, clean, weigh, one pound ripe elder berries. Delete the strings (most strings anyway) using a fork, and put berries into empty bottle. Add 4 lb sugar. Top up with a bottle (or most of a bottle) of whiskey. Seal well. Store for 3 months and strain. Use strongest spirit. Dose—Strong glass of this 'Elderfire'—add hot water (as hot as possible) and drink. Take 2 or 3 spoons of honey with drink. Repeat each night (or more frequently)–usually two nights is sufficient to clear the flu/fever results guaranteed. [Killarney, Co. Kerry, September 1991]

[My mother, who was 94 when she died in 1987] used to collect elder-flower in the spring, and dried it. In the winter if we had colds or flu, the elderflower was put in a jug covered with boiling water and put on the hob to stew. At night we were given this (strained) with sugar and a few drops of peppermint oil added. We were given a teacup full of this at night, and in the morning we had to drink half a cupful of this cold mixture. It was supposed to sweat out the fever. She used to tell me how she pulled me through PNEUMONIA by poulticing with hot flannel and sips of elderflower tea, day and night. [Hill, Worcestershire, October 1991]

When my three children were small and we had wintery weather (and it can be very cold up here at the foot of the Cairngorms), I made elder-flower wine, and when it was time for them coming from school I had three cups, bowl of sugar, bottle of elderflower wine and the kettle boiling, and I gave them a tody; they never had colds or flu. [Boat-of-Garten, Inverness-shire, November 1991]

Elder flowers and berries are widely collected by makers of homemade wines. The flowers can also be used in cooking [Ó’Ceirin, 1980: o1), and the fruits have been recommended as a substitute for currants [Ransom, 1949: 55]. Elder leaves have been used as a TOBACCO substitute.

Myself, my brother and a friend always smoked elder leaves when money was not available for tailor-made cigarettes. We spent much time in the woodland of Thetford Chase, where on our regular walks we would break down, but not completely snap off, small sprigs of the elder. We found that if we severed the supply of sap completely the leaves on the sprig would dry out resulting in a hot strong smoke. We found that if the leaves remained just slightly damp they were a quite pleasant smoke. It was obviously trial and error, sometimes they remained too wet to burn properly. We would stuff the leaves very lightly into the stems of various umbellifers...We actually prefered these cigarettes to the tailor-made, but they were not available during winter. [West Stow, Suffolk, November 1992]

Elder wood is characterized by its pith, which can be easily removed.

[On Colonsay] boys aspiring to be pipers made chanters of the young branches [of elder], which are full of pith and easily bored. [McNeill, 1910: 130].

Haw-blowers are made by scooping the pith out of an elder branch. Haws are blown through these. [IFCSS MSS 700: 338, Co. Meath]

The people of the parish were able to make toy guns. They got an elder stick about one and a half feet long and scraped out the inside. Then they got a stick about the same length and made it fit into the hole and then the gun was made. [IFCSS MSS 867: 132, Co. Kilkenny]

At the the beginning of the century children in parts of Devon used to make pop-guns' out of elder: they would force a hole through the pith, and then fashion a ram-rod out of HAZEL WOOD. Chewed paper would be rammed down the hollowed elder sticks, and pressed out with considerable force. Great sport ensued. [Lafonte, 1984: 35]

There was another use for the Boor tree in olden times. A suitable length was cut and seasoned, then the white pith in the centre was scraped out, lead was then melted and poured in. When set, this made a good weapon for protection on a journey or out walking at night...My aunt who was born in 1894 remembered one man who had such a stick. [Lenamore, Co. Longford, April 1991]

[In Horsefield, Cambridgeshire] for winter feeding one beekeeper used to make little troughs out of elder wood; he cut pieces about the thickness of a finger and five or six inches long, tapered off one end and removed the pith, and used them for replenishing the bees' honey by inserting this end in the exit hole. [Parsons MSS, 1952]”

—

Oxford Dictionary of Plant-Lore

by Roy Vickery

[sakura-83]

Things from Anne with an e that I feel like writing down

Season 1 Episode 7: Wherever You Are Is My Home

⚠️WARNING!!!⚠️ this episode not only talks about suicidal thoughts but also a character trying to commit such acts, of you are sensitive to this I suggest you just skip this post or at least skip #75-77

1. Anne calling it comforting that no two snowflakes are alike, as well as calling snow a sign of gods forgiveness as he blankets the dead world in a beautiful frost

2. Josie gossiping about her while she’s RIGHT THERE

3. Her and moody just talking

4. “And I love Christmas, don’t you?” “I don’t know, but I plan to.” “Did you not have Christmas at the orphanage?” “There wasn’t much to it really. I’m not sure why Father Christmas wasn’t able to stop there, maybe the matron scared him off.”

5. “Do you at least know if they’re going to keep you?” “Keep me!?”

6. Anne trying to sing with the others but the other voices quickly fading out as she panics and rushes home

7. “They’re not going to send you back, you’re in the Bible and everything!”

8. Marilla has every right to be angry that Matthew rushed their home without even discussing it

9. “I knew you’d lose your head-“ “Oh, I oughta smack yours right off your shoulders!”

10. Matthew is prone to heart attacks, the very same thing causing his death in the books

11. “He’s had an episode of the heart” just a funny way to say heart attack, sort of long winded

12. Marilla not understanding the complex math because she had to leave school when she was young

13. Anne helping her with it because she’s top of her class

14. “Not keeping you? You’re a Cuthbert, for better or for worse! No getting out of it now.”

15. The awful bank not relenting on the payback schedule despite the fact that Matthew cannot work. Corporations are cruel and ungiving despite the human struggles and needs of its clients and it hurts. I know the bank invested that money and they need it back but Matthew was indisposed by a tragic event and to not only not extent but to SHORTEN the payback schedule is just unfeeling

16. Marilla putting out an ad to the mainland to take in borders

17. The terrifying idea that you must sell everything you have in order to survive

18. Marilla being desperate yet still too prideful to accept charity

19. The fact that it not only effects the family but also Jerry, as they can’t afford to pay him. It puts him out of a job and lowers his families income

20. A reoccurring theme I love in this show is the idea that the characters will give up their belongings, no matter how sentimental, in the name of family. Matthew selling his dead brothers watch, Marilla selling her grandmothers brooch, Anne selling the dress of her dreams, all because no matter how important these items are, they are just things. That family is more important, so even though it pains you to have to give those things up, you do it in the name of love for others

21. “Theyre just things.”

22. Anne feeling sorrow and yet being excited to stay at aunt Josephine’s

23. Despite being told she can keep the dress, Anne insists on selling it back because it’s a family effort

24. Anne being exited for a solo adventure and then getting stuck with jerry

25. Jerry has to be there to get money Anne his family is hungry :(

26. “I don’t actually need your help.” “When’s the last time you drove a sleigh? Auctioned a horse? Let’s go.”

27. Diana giving her things to sell as well

28. Jerry knows how to drive a sleigh?????

29. “It’s not so bad to ask for help sometimes, y’know?” “If I needed help I would say so.” “No you wouldn’t.” “Yes, I would.” “Wouldn’t.” “Would! Times infinity.” “What???”

30. Jerry singing in French

31. “No singing. I mean it. I’m serious, Jerry! This is an important journey! I WILL KILL YOU WITH MY BEAR HANDS!”

32. Jerry grinning as she gets madder

33. Anne bring mystified by the dress shop

34. “I’m here to return a dress.” Is something wrong with it?” “Not a thing.” “Do you not like it?” “It is my very favorite thing that I have ever possessed in life. But I need to return it to help my family.” “You’re Anne, Matthew’s Anne!” “I am! How nice it is to hear it said that way.”

35. Anne being upbeat until Jeannie asks what’s wrong and then ask just breaks down

36. Poor Jerry waiting outside in the snow for her

37. Either Matthew spent some much money on Anne’s dress or Jeannie gave her extra, or both

38. “Did Matthew really spend this much?..” “You’re worth a lot to him.”

39. “I hate to say goodbye…” “😏 I won’t be so long~” “To the HORSE, Jerry. Why are you so annoying.”

40. “You’re a good horse Birdie, try to remember that. Someone will be very lucky to have you.”

41. Birdie really is a beautiful horse though

42. Anne’s little “my parents are spies” act she uses on the pawn broker

43. The pawn broker is so understandable rude because of his profession, it makes him equally annoying and funny

44. “What a piece of work you are.”

45. Anne is so good at making up stories on the spot

46. “If you can’t afford it I completely understand.”

47. I love how snide remarks of “being a good Christian” are frequent and effective insults in the 1800’s

48. Poor Jerry doesn’t just get beaten up and robbed, he gets brutally beaten by two grown men and there’s nothing he can do despite that being… his last paycheck. That was the last income he was going to give his family and he’s so ashamed of himself that he keeps apologizing for it despite most of the money being his. He apologizes to Anne, to Matthew, it bothers him for months to come

49. Gilbert’s back!!

50. “Still seems unreal. Even though I just sold all our… everything.”

51. “He’s a good man.” “I love him with all my heart. I don’t know what if do if…”

52. Them arguing over not arguing

53. Anne apologizing

54. “Anyway…” “Anyway..”

55. I genuinely didn’t realize that the men who beat up Jerry are the same men that took in borders at green gables, I got the same face blindness as Jerry himself

56. “I’ve missed you.” “Yeah?” “At school, theres.. no one to compete with.” “”You want to spell out a few words for old times sake?” “How about… truce?”

57. Jerry thinking Gilbert was going to hurt Anne and take her money and immediately jumping in to stop him despite swaying on his feet

58. When Anne asks him if he’s okay he immediately starts apologizing about the money

59. “I don’t like the city.”

60. “Just take care of yourself, and come home someday.”

61. Anne and Gilbert staring at each other quietly

62. “This is a palace, not a house.”

63. Jerry assuming that they’ll make him sleep in the stable instead of inside the massive house

64. “I’ll look after belle.”

65. “This city is rife with ruffians!”

66. Aunt Josephine insisting on helping

67. Matthew lamenting his own life, talking of how his life insurance will give them a sizable sum and how he drags them down despite them needing him

68. “Anne loves you, you have to remember that.” “But her future…” “Which do you think she would choose, this house or you?”

69. Jerry bring terrified to stay in a room by himself because he’s always had his family around him

70. Anne making room for him only for him to sleep upside down

71. “Don’t worry, I don’t kick like my sisters.” “Yeah, you’d better not.”

72. “Everything will be alright. It’ll be alright..”

73. Aunt Josephine helping by paying for Jerry to work at Green Gables, as well as giving Anne books

74. “We’ve been together all these years, thick or thin, so don’t think I’ll put up with you slipping away now. Anne will be home today, and she’ll be very happy to see you.”

75. Matthew trying to kill himself because the life insurance would pay off the debt he caused

76. Jeannie happening to show up and find Matthew with the gun just in time as he tries to hide what he’s almost done from her, realizing what he’s done

77. The way they stress how his passing would effect Anne the most because of what they mean to each other, that she will suffer without him despite what he’s trying to do

78. “Don’t ever get old…” “Too late for that.”

79. “You would’ve left us that way!? Left me?..”

80. “Give it back. I won’t take charity.” “But.. love isn’t charity.” “I won’t take it.” “Nay I ask why not?” “We will not be pitied! I don’t want people thinking we can’t fend for ourselves.” “Well at the moment we can’t, and I’d sure give my last bit of strength or my last dollar to help a friend. Then I know that friend would feel grateful and loved above all else. And I do. I feel very grateful to have such a dear friend as Miss Barry. Sometimes you just have to let people love you Marilla.”

81. Anne selling her cleaning services to make steady income

82. “We’re rich, aren’t we Matthew?”

83. Jerry carving a star for the Christmas tree!!!!!!

84. Anne’s friends coming to sing carols at their house

85. Anne helping Matthew walk outside

86. Not Nate :(

87. Nathaniel, the bane of my existence

[vanilla-vivillon]

Part two of Zoyalai kid as promised

Here’s part one- https://dablackdahlia.tumblr.com/post/650586205772201984/the-black-dahlia

Massive row spoilers

Prince Mycanae Juris Nazyalensky( My Kuh Nay Uh) was turning one years old

It was suprising how quickly he grew up

To Nikolai at least

For Zoya, who adored her son couldn’t wait for him to get older

For one thing while the baby didn’t cry to much at night (whitch was a blessing from the saints)

He couldn’t be Grisha tested

Most ravkans were tested around the age of seven though it varies

Myca was far to young

It was decided when he turned four he would be tested

And so the country was forced to wait four long years

Three more years to go Zoya thought to herself

Myca was an easy baby

That was what his doctors said

He barely if ever cried in the night and was sociable enough

Unlike Genya and David’s son Forrest Kostyk who from all of Zoyas interactions and everything Genya and David mentioned he was a nightmare

Constantly screaming

Hates to eat everything

And now that His teeth were a big enough size he started biting

She had gotten lucky

But Nikolai and her started talking about having more kids

And Zoya found she wanted more aswell

Nikolais pitch however would be far to amusing for her to not listen to

“Come on Zoya only children are the freaks in the playground!” Nikolai said gesturing incredulously

They just gotten Myca put to bed and were having much needed glasses of wine

He needed his rest for his birthday tomorrow

Even though they could’ve had many nannies take care of him that night, neither of them wanted that

Nikolai grew up like that and he wasn’t as close to his mother because of it.

Not to mention the old king was scarce most of his early upbringing

Zoya didn’t want that for Myca either

Of course with all of there duties they had to get some help but they always, always, made sure they put him to bed in the room across from there’s

“Nikolai I’m an only child” zoya retorted

“Touché, but what if something were to happen that Myca couldn’t become king? We would need another option!” Nikolai threw back

Nikolai having another realization

“Plus, it would’ve really helped me growing up to have a good sibling”

This was something Zoya thought about aswell

As a girl she wished for a baby sister

And so did her mother

Sabina had four miscarriages

The last one was the worst

She was safely in the third trimester when it happened

Sabina was distraught for weeks

And when she finally came to, she was different

Harder

Sadder

Meaner

And a couple years later marching Zoya down an aisle

“You know I’m already convinced Nikolai right?” Zoya laughed tired of this charade

Before Myca was born Zoya thought she’d have one

One child

One heir

But she had changed her mind and wanted more

Nikolai showed her a dazzling smile “perfect” he said with a kiss

Zoyas second pregnancy was different

Her morning sickness wasn’t as bad as her first

But a new thing has arrived

cravings

She was consuming unhealthy amounts of Ravkan chocolates

But nonetheless the baby’s due date was July eighth

The date came and passed

But it was nothing to be worried about

There was a lot of moments where they were like “this Is it, the babies coming” then nope

Zoya was 43 weeks pregnant

The baby would be post term

Nikolai would say this is a sign that this child was going to Be late for everything

A difference when Myca was born on the exact due date

But in the middle of the night July twenty second Zoya went into Labor

There second child was Prince Nazariy (Nah-Zuh-ree) Dominik Nazyalensky

He had Brown skin almost darker then Zoya’s and black hair

But it was his eyes that captivated people

He had sectoral heterochromia

His Blue eyes like his Mothers had parts of brown (example below)

They decided on his middle name after Nikolais friend Dominick after some rigorous debate

Zoya wanted to continue with Saint middle names

Nikolai argued Juris was a personal friend

In the end with Nikolais charisma he won

His name Nazariy was actually found in a simple baby book

While Mycanae was in old ravkan and they liked the nickname Myca

They were much more lax with there second son

They eventually decided to have four kids but wanted to wait until Myca would get tested before having there next two children

Time skip three years because your girl can’t detail everything

Myca was four years old and today was the day

He was dressed in his best clothes

What would happen is he would go up in front of the entirety of the Ravkan nobility and other ambassadors and such and would get tested

Zoyas power still couldn’t sense anything in him or Nazariy, but a couple months prior Forrest Kostyk was revealed to be an Alkemi

It seemed that when the grisha first used there ability it activates something and typically Zoya could sense it

Because now Zoya could see Forrest as an Alkemi easily

So while she couldn’t sense anything in her sons that didn’t mean there was nothing there

Zoya and Nikolai had finally gotten most of the details finished and it was them, Nazariy and Myca, and the triumvirate working out some details in the meeting room

Well, Nazariy was pretending he was a squaller by blowing on some paper

And Myca was clearly trying to convince him that wasn’t how it worked

It seemed Myca hadn’t quite grasped his two year old little brother couldn’t care less about what he thought

A fact that would never change over the years

“I don’t understand why we don’t just test him right here right now?” Adrik insisted for the ninth time “less risk”

“And then what if he turns out to be Grisha but presented before the nobility nothing happens? The grisha test only works when they just start out” Tamar responded

“It could still work in front of the nobility” Adrik insisted

“And if all else fails we can just tell him to summon a gust” Tolya added

Tolya was fiercely protective of the boys

It probably started when a couple months ago Myca showed a vague interest in his favorite Poet and the friendship bloomed

“Tolya most summoners can’t summon until days of practice” Leoni interjected “Plus, we’ve made plans on all outcomes and it’s to late to change them now, look on the bright si-”

“Nazariy spit that out!” Zoya interupted

Apparently the little hellhound put one of David’s nails in his mouth

Nazariy, learning his mother wasn’t to be trifled with quickly on, spit it out

Back to the conversation they started on a topic healthy debated

“There’s no way the kid is Grisha!” Adrik started on

“But Adrik he hasn’t gotten sick. And Grisha dont get sick to!” Leoni countered

This back and forth started since Zoya announced her pregnancy

It was a headache really

But when she turned towards the three boys who had come to mean the world to her it was all worth it

Nikolai was with the boys and was apparently taking on Nazariy’s side claiming him blowing on the paper was just as credible as Mommy’s lightning

Myca fought back and claimed any otkaxatsya could do that

It was something happening more often

Myca makes an offhand statement and Nikolai fighting the other side

It was adorable really how Mycas eyes would light up and debate with his father

Plus it would make him think more critically and would make a good king out of him

Not to mention how it really helped Nikolai and him bond

Nikolai and him had some trouble sometimes

Myca doesn’t usually respond to jokes

It seemed after his silly and rambunctious troublemaker of a brother was born he decided he would have to be serious enough for the both of them

Or at least as serious as a four year old could be

But rigourous debate on whether or not green looked good on Nazariy was something they both seemed to enjoy

And as much as Zoya wished she could watch forever it was time

Time to see if her baby boy had certain talents

Myca was scared

He was behind the door waiting to be presented before his mother, father, brother, who would all be seated on the thrones, and of course the rest of the nobility

‘People like you Myca!’ Nikolai would insist ‘there’s nothing to worry about no matter what happens!’

Myca thought he was trying to alleviate the pressure but it wasn’t working

Suddenly his que to come In was called and he walked in

Head held high and posture immaculate he waltzed through the door

The person who was testing him was the Baron of Banewood

An old man who hated nonsense, children, and Prince Nazariy since he was both of those things

He came forward and after some very boring speeches that Myca couldn’t bring himself to listen to until the Baron told him to stick out his hand

Myca complied and the baron produced a very big pin

Guess everyone wanted to be really sure he was Grisha or not

His eyes wandered to his family

Theyre faces looked calculatingly impassive

He knew it was a front

They needed to seem stable for the people

Nazariy who was standing next to the throne was having difficulties standing still

Myca felt bad for him

Half of being royalty is sitting still looking pretty

He trained his eyes back on his parents and saw his father give him a small wink

I got this, I’m prepared for the result, I can do this

As the pin was stabbed into his skin Myca felt it

That calling

That thing begging to come out whenever he saw his Mother doing something grand

Or when he really wanted his brother to leave him alone

And Myca let it overcome him

When he opened his eyes he could see the Baron knocked over and a small breeze

A firm hand clamped his shoulder

“Congratulations Mycanae” Tolya started dragging him away from the scene where the nobility were discussing the scene “Your a Squaller”

Hey so part two of the Zoyalai kid as promised. This was originally gonna be longer but then It became a 230 word monster and i cut it down and will save the rest for part three

35 likes and I’ll make part three

[cupcakes-and-pain]

grandson - Bury Me Face Down

I do my best work at night. Like, it has to be at least past 9 for me able to get any semblance of inspiration. So sorry. (Also I realize I should have figured this out earlier but how do you do this? Is there a certain way you’re supposed to do this? Is there a maximum or minimum amount of lyrics you can use for it to be acceptable?)

CW: death mention, being put to death, hanging as means of death, noose, whumpee is called ‘boy’ but is over 18, starvation mention, beating mention

———

The former prince looked over the enemy army, all laughing and cheering as he was lead to the gallows. Fools. He would have laughed and mocked them back if not for the gag. They thought they had won, they thought they had finally hurt him, finally broken him. And sure, he was beaten and bruised. He hadn’t eaten in days.

And even before this, he had been left for dead by his cowardly men in this foreign land, so long ago. He had a bounty over his head for so long, living in hiding. Hoping to be free from all of this one day. He never got that wish.

But he wasn’t afraid then, and he wasn’t afraid now.

They may have taken his crown, the physical one, but he still held his head high as befitting of a royal. He had been running for so long and he still had never forgotten who he was. What these people had taken from him. And in the disgraced royal’s opinion, that was the true mark of a ruler. His true crown.

The king of this godawful land ripped the rag out of his mouth.

“Any last words, boy? Anything to share with us now, in your final moments, as the last of your horrid family?” The king smiled cruelly, hoping for a fearful response, or maybe even a pleading one.

Instead, the prince smiled back.

“My family, my kingdom, has been reduced to rubble. I’ll never get free. I’ve been a wanted man for months, maybe years. So you want to know what I think? I think, nay, know that you people think you’ve won. Well, it’s only just begun.”

The king grimaced. “What kind of answer is that? Have you gone mad in all your time alone?”

“Probably. But my father told me to not go quietly and to bring my crown to my grave, and I intend to do both.”

There was a silence before the king spat on his face and ordered his men to kill the prince already.

And that was the last of that royal bloodline. The king had won. He had finally, officially destroyed his country’s historical enemy.

But the prince was right. It had only just begun. Because rebel groups had been growing for quite some time, and that death was just the spark they needed to stop planning and start acting.

Old wives tales tell you that they should have buried him face down. ‘The evil spirit can’t escape to infected the living’ or however it goes.

Maybe then things would have turned out differently if they had.

Then again, maybe not.