#not even a balloon animal for our troubles?

[crocheting-cupio]

Recently I remembered the ONE time another kid tried to bully me (this happened only once because I was homeschooled) and how he just... failed so miserably because I did not care and was not intimidated in the slightest. And I also may have changed the course of that kid's life. Bit of a long one just because I like telling detailed stories.

So the town I lived in was throwing a Canada Day celebration in the park behind town hall. And by park I mean it was a rectangular clearing in a forest. Anyway, they got a water slide, a bouncy castle, a guy doing balloon animals, a stage to play music that evening, fireworks, and my Mom was doing face painting. There was like around 30-40 kids at the event.

Almost every kid wanted their face painted, so my Mom was pretty busy that day. But this one kid around my age (9) was, for some reason, very insistent on getting his face painted before everyone else. When it was his turn, he was really unhappy with my Mom's job and demanded she redo it. And when she refused, I think he punched her in the arm (although obviously not very hard) and his dad took him away to give him "a talk" and told him not to bother her anymore.

A little later that day, he's just kind of brooding with his arms crossed near our tent. Then he walks up to me and asks if there's anything I can do to change my Mom's mind. I was like, "No???? Why would I help you? You hit my Mom!" I think he offered me all the change he had in his pocket, but I refused. Then he threatened to steal my lunch money or something next time he saw me and I said, "I don't even go to school! Let alone YOUR school." Then I pointed out there's other fun things still available to him that he could be doing, but chose to keep bothering me and my Mom. And he just... walked away looking defeated.

As the day went on I noticed he kept getting himself into trouble by being rude or trying to get into fights. Although the fighting thing didn't work out because, since we were in a big clearing with plenty of adults present, the other kids could just run away. I think he got himself kicked out of the water slide as well.

By this point, I was very overwhelmed and drained by sound, so I wandered off to a quieter area to enjoy an orange soda in peace. As I finished it off, the kid comes back and says, "Do you wanna fight?!" and I'm like, "No why would I want to fight you??" But he didn't wait for an answer and managed to punch me twice, but not very hard. Even as a 9 year old it didn't feel like a strong punch. I dropped my empty can and grabbed both his hands so he couldn't keep swinging and said, "HEY! If you keep fighting me I'll tell my Mom and your dad and he'll take you home for being bad! You've been getting in trouble all day! Then you won't get to hear the music OR see the fireworks! And is that what you want?!" He didn't answer, but the answer was clearly no.

He stopped trying to fight me and I let go. I didn't try to push him away or anything, I didn't even take a step back and simply stood where I was, and this seemed to confuse him. Like he was anticipating that I would want some kind of revenge or want to "win" the fight. But truly I did not want to hurt him, I didn't even dislike him. I had also had bad days where I wanted to fight everybody, but I knew that sometimes when you're angry you say things you don't mean and hurt the people that you care about. I felt he did not actually dislike me (or anyone else at that event) but was just frustrated and didn't know how to deal with that feeling.

Then he tried to insult me, but that also didn't work. It went something like this:

Him: "You're STUPID." Me: "Well, I don't think so because I read a lot of books. I've read every science book we have at home and most of the ones at the library." "Well, you're UGLY." "I look just like everyone else?? Besides, there's not really any ugly people." "Well, your FACE is stupid!" "My face can't be stupid? Only our brains can be stupid." "Well, your mom is FAT!" "That's only because she had me and my siblings. Getting fat after you get pregnant happens to a lot of women. And there's nothing wrong with being fat." "Well, your outfit SUCKS!" "I like my outfit and it's comfortable for me to wear, and that's all that matters to me. You're the first person to say you don't like my outfit, most people like what I wear." "You're so WEIRD!" (It was clear to me at this point he was running out of insults.) "Well, my whole family is weird so that makes sense. We don't think there's anything wrong with being weird because everyone is a little weird. You're weird too, and that's okay. :)"

I had noticed that he didn't seem angry anymore, but just confused and trying to figure me out. And he asked very genuinely, "Why don't you care...?" And I said, "Well, I don't really know you because we just met today, I don't go to your school, and unless they have another event like this again then we're probably never going to see each other again. Why SHOULD I care what you think?"

And he looked completely defeated and like he had never considered this. I had laughed because it was funny to me how I couldn't be bullied despite his best efforts, then he walked away. I caught up to him and tried to apologize for laughing, because I didn't want to make him think I was laughing AT him, but he brushed me off and said it was fine. So I let him go on his way.

Later, during the mini concert, I saw him again with his dad. The dad had stood near-ish to us without realizing it, and I heard the kid say to his dad that he didn't want to be near "the scary girl." I was very confused by this as I thought I was very unintimidating and approachable. But it was kind of funny to me that he found me scary.

Hilariously, I DID see him again about two weeks later at a different and much smaller community event. When he saw I was there he ran up and asked if I remembered him. I said, "No, are you a friend I made before?" and he was aghast that I didn't remember him. Then I mentioned that I'm terrible at recognizing faces so this wasn't usual.

He had jogged my memory by describing what he did that day and then I was like "Oh yeah, I remember you now! :)" Then he asked with genuine curiosity, "Did you cry when you got home?" and I was like, "No? Because your insults didn't hurt me? When we got home we had supper and then I went to bed, just like any other day." This baffled him. He asked if I really wasn't hurt, and I once again confirmed that I was completely unaffected.

I think at this point his dad had come over and asked if his son was bothering me, and I told him that no, we were just talking.

After his dad was gone, I asked him if he was doing okay. He seemed very angry that day and I wanted to know if he was feeling alright. Turns out he was doing poorly in school and was also being physically abused by his father (which I was actually aware of because I'd seen his dad hit him on Canada Day). So I was like, "Oh no! That's awful. Do you want a hug?" He did take the hug after I convinced him that hugs are not inherently romantic and we shouldn't care if other people think we are dating because WE know we aren't, and it seemed like he really needed that hug.

Then he started asking me big questions. Like how do you just not care about what anyone thinks? Why are you nice to me even though I was mean to you? How do I become smart like you? And I gave him the best answers I could: Because other people's opinions are not nearly as important as they seem, because I'm just nice to everyone and you seemed like you were in a bad spot, and because I read a lot of books and watch educational TV shows. I even offered him some advice for how to manage his anger because he had said he got into a lot of fights a school and at home and always felt angry. I told him to just rip up a box or punch a soft toy when he felt like fighting because that's what I did. Or spend some time alone to cool down. And the classic take some deep breaths.

After that, we did the whole event thing that was happening. I'm pretty sure I did say goodbye, though.

I saw him another time a few months later, and he excitedly told me that my advice really helped and he hadn't started a fight in several weeks. He had also been reading more, was now taking regular trips to the library, and said his grades had improved a lot. Like, from getting a D on average to a B or B+ in almost every class kind of improved. And his parents even bought him an expensive toy that he always wanted as a reward. Most importantly, he said his dad almost never hit him now. I gave him a celebratory hug, because that's such a huge improvement and he seemed genuinely a ton happier. He wasn't a bully now, he was just a normal kid. And arguably he was better off in some ways than the other kids.

I hope that guy is doing okay now. I really do. He seemed like he just needed someone to talk to and who would listen.

[heckthis-heckallofthis]

Random headcanons I think of sometimes (Oops! All Friends spinoff)

Dendritic cell doesn't get his cytokine material himself, he employs the M cells in the bars to capture the most horrendous images of immune cells while they're all intoxicated (he wears a feather boa when he's activated <3)

Canon but I don't think a lot of people know, he has good voice acting skills with his singing + narration being pretty good

Leaves his plushies everywhere. Gave one to M cell to see if it'd cheer him up, it did because M cell was happy he tried helping him. Dendritic cell thought it was just because of the cuteness and purity of the lactic acid bacterium

He visits M cell so much, every time M cell rings up the dendritic cells for antigen presentation it's always our beloved Dendritick cell that comes to his bar to get it

Dendritic cell also started out absolutely terrified of bacteria, had to practice very hard with antigen presentation

There is written fiction of the neutrophils, probably a lot of BL let's be real

There is a popular book that is like Twilight but with those weirdos

All neutrophils except for 2145 have colored hair and eyes, I will not elaborate

More of a general thing rather than only friends, but neutrophils definitely have sharper teeth compared to non phagocyte cells

2145 goes to work everyday even on his off days, it's for a free lunch

2145 eats the body of cells right in front of other cells without thinking of the implications, he is enjoying the snack.

His favorite past time is listening to 1235 talk about her day, she is like a radio for him

3033 doesn't have a single creative bone in his body, you ask him to draw something and it barely even looks like what you wanted. He wears all white all the time because he doesn't know what outfits look good with what color, it's terrible.

Squad Leader would kill himself if he knew, but 3033 dislikes him. It's not for any particular reason, they just don't mesh well. It's okay since Squad Leader doesn't bother 3033 a lot anyways

Canon but I never realized this in 3 years of reading this manga: 3033 doesn't wear his knife straps on his legs if it isn't necessary to use those knives, only wears them when he needs to fight something dangerous.

M cell low-key has trouble eating enough because of his depression. You can directly counter this by getting him foods that expire within a day or two, he hates wasting food so he eats it before it expires.

Actually canon again but I need more people to know: M cell can make balloon animals

The fact that M cell has a lot of random skills in general, I wouldn't he surprised if he knew how to make stained glass art or could do wood carving

Cross reads the smuttiest, most vile BL stories as a past time. If you find his stash he will go insane.

He also enjoys talking to 1235 about squad leader (and then later on about 3033, girl talk)

1235 befriends so many immune cells because just like AE3803 from Main, she is a danger magnet. Everytime she is saved from an immune cell she makes small talk with them no matter how introverted they are (see 2145, NK and Eosinophil)

Helper T cell doesn't remember anything from his thymus days because it was so traumatizing he just blocks out those memories. It's not that he doesn't recognize Squad Leader, it's that his mind won't let him remember.

Squad Leader physically cannot hit another cell without orders, he can hit HT because Squad Leader is filled with so much rage every time he sees HT he just gains the strength to do it.

Also a general HC but I think Reg T cells in general have major face blindness. Unless you're someone close to them they will not recognize you once you do a change of clothes, but it's okay, as long as you still have the right receptors for the body they will protect you.

Eosinophil regularly visits M cell's bar because not only is it good practice for her with minimal casualties (poor M cell) but also it's an unpopular bar so she doesn't need to be so anxious.

B cell tried to hit on Eosinophil exactly once (1) and stopped because she exploded from anxiety and B cell thought she hated him so much she'd rather explode than talk to him

B cell and M cell don't like each other a lot, M cell thinks he's too loud, and B cell thinks he's too much of a downer. Partly the reason why Memory cell visited his bar alone without B cell

If you put NK and Eosinophil in the same room alone, they would just not talk. No conversation between those two. NK thinks Eos is judging her but Eos thinks NK doesn't like her and doesn't want to talk to her.

B cell and Mast cell get along surprisingly well (ignore how in canon Mast cell says he'll never talk to him again if he insults his gacha game girlies again), B cell talks about the pretty cells he sees regularly on the job while Mast cell show him his anime girls. Mutual respect until B cell is like "Well I prefer girls you can actually touch in the real world" in which Mast cell will tell him to shut up

[halfetirosie]

😂❤️🏝️ Pure Dumb Fun and Romcom Nonsense 🏝️❤️😂

(Exercise 07 - 09 React-os!)

1) I truly adore the running joke about Eiden's infamous naming skills 😂

Like, the second they hear an unnecessarily long, cringey name, they just know who is to blame.

2) PFFFFT! 🤣🤣🤣

Eiden over here being so horny that he forgot that Quincy built like a goddam brick wall---

3) THE EMOTION MUSIC OVER THIS PART IS SENDING MEEEEE 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

"Trouble-averse ass...."

Eiden, babes. This might be an intense sports competition, but it really isn't that serious...

4) QUINCY USING THE POWER OF HUGS!!!

I'm so fuckin jealous!!!

As long as you're not barreling towards him top-speed, I bet Quincy Hugs™ are top tier. I've said it many times, and I'll say it again---I WANT TO GIVE QUINCY A HUG, I JUST KNOW HE GIVE THE BEST HUGS EVER---so Eiden better be fully appreciative!

Lucky bastard!!! 😤😤😤

5) I'm convinced the Devs are trying to kill us all with these visual gags---

(Side note---On a scale of one to ten, how likely is it that they only made Quincy's SSR holding a bottle in order to include this particular visual gag during the story event? :D)

6) S....STINKY FIEND....

GET DUNKED ON, DANTE!!!! 😂😈

I love it when Eiden responds to Dante's Tsundere Bullshit™ with an Uno Reverse card and they just end up arguing in the dumbest way possible! ♡♡♡

And my boi Dante is always getting stuck with the absolute worst nicknames---ala Lord Jackass---and it's just so beautiful!!! 🤣🤣🤣

It's like everyone silent agree that this guy, this lil' fucker right here, shall forever be the #1 target for teasing!!!

7) PFFFFFT!!!!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

♡♡♡ CRINGEFAIL DORITOMAN, MY BELOVED!!! ♡♡♡

Leave it to Dante to grab Eiden's ass completely by accident!

The sudden realization tho..... It's a work of art.....

This is the most Aggressively Anime-Tropey thing I have ever seen....

(It's like that part where I guy trips and ends up grabbing a girl's boobs... Except, you know, gayer.)

8) Morvay, sweetie, you're not helping the situation....

Okay but, it's safe to assume that there's some children in the audience of this event, right? Is it okay for him to be calling attention to this "licentious" situation??? (I know that kids probably wouldn't even know what that word means, but some of the older ones could figure it out by context clues....)

9) Danteeeee, my Touch-Starved King!!!!!

He's basically an overgrown kid experiencing his first crush, not sure how to even function, and it's SO FUCKIN CUTE!!!

LOOK AT HIM!!!!

Babes is so flustered that he's pulling An Edmond and blaming his feelings on Eiden.... IT'S SO ENDEARING I, I CAN'T HANDLE IT...

10) This is not important at all, but somehow I can vividly picture Eiden absolutely dominating at high school dodgeball 😎

He's just got that scrappy energy to him---I picture him as a well-liked social butterfly that everyone knew, and had insane skills at the most random things like dodgeball....Is that too specific? Just me? Bah, whatever. It's just fun to imagine.

( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

11) I suspect that if we made a drinking game after every time some pulled A Father during this event (suddenly attempting to block someone's nudity/compromising pose), we'd all get severe alcohol poisoning..... 😅

Nah but, didn't Eiden create this swimsuits/outfits? Why the fuck did he choose a material that gets see-through when wet??? When they would be competing in front of a huge crowd?????

Seems like a severe oversight...

12) OHHHHH, okay, that makes more sense!

I'm sorry for doubting your honor, Eiden!

I guess they loaded the water balloons with a special potion that causes the transparency.

Still unsure if that was a good idea, but okay bubs.... 🤷‍♀️

13) Eiden's heroic sacrifice! 😂😂😂

Bless Garu's little heart, he's such an angel!!!! 😂😂😂 Whole-heartedly reassured Eiden over something so dumb and sillyyyy!!!!

14) Yeah.... I was rooting for my boi Dante, but I could see this coming 😅

I mean, our dude basically flashed his butt to everyone, so I suppose he deserves a win for all of that trouble 😅😅😅

15) EIDEN, YOU'RE SUCH A CHAMP!!! AN ABSOLUTE TROOPER!!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

If I had a nickel for every time Eiden exposed himself to a group of people in order to spare a clan member's dignity, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice. 🤣🤣🤣🤣

(First during Fanciful Capriccio--sparing Dante in the story of The Emperor's New Clothes--and then now. Expect, During Fanciful Caprissio they were stuck in an illusion, so technically the crowd wasn't real, but I think it still counts.)

🏝️ End of report! 🏝️

[centrally-unplanned]

Random Lackadaisy Pilot Thoughts:

-- I knew going in that I would have a fundamental disagreement with this pilot, from both knowing median audience preferences and seeing promotional documents; namely Rocky. Rocky is your zany lyrical comic relief character, who says things like this all the time:

And everyone in universe treats him like that police officer does; as an annoying lunatic. On the page this level of court jester can work; no one is reading it aloud to me, I can go at my own pace, others in-universe are responding the way I would respond in-universe, I can appreciate the dynamic. As spoken dialogue though, its a lot harder - he is talking *at* me, I am no longer a distant observer but instead just like one of the characters in the story, feeling what they are feeling; namely, cringe.

So how do you execute a character like Rocky on screen? A lot of ways (he isn't an issue at all if this is a comedy or a musical, for example) but overall I think you need to pair him off and reduce him - he should be playing off people most of the time, talk like 40% less, get interrupted more, his lines should often be set-ups for eye-roll punchlines by others. You balance him for the reality of film.

However! Rocky is also the 'protagonist' - not really, but he is the first character we meet - and a fan favourite. Western animation 'loves' zany weirdo characters, he is flash you can use to position your product in the market. So Rocky is not reduced in the pilot, he is expanded - full solo opening, musical number, lots of setpiece sequences around him. He is absolutely the primary character of the pilot. Which does not work for me, I think it was a poor choice - it sells the story itself short.

-- Related to that, I think the Rocky choice and some others frayed the story's film noir tone. Lackadaisy is famous amoung webcomics for its out-of-this-world levels of detailed shading and toning, which it uses to build a city of shadows and light:

Its the kind art that sells a troubled man torturing his bounty for information about his own dark past for pyschological reasons. There is just no way an indie long-form animated show can look like this, they aren't Studio Shaft. So your Mordecai is gonna look like this

Which is fine, but you are bleeding film noir points, you need to make them up elsewhere - which you cannot do if zany Rocky is your lead and 60% of the run time is combat shenanigans! This pilot is selling a very different vision of the story; its aesthetics have been altered by the demands of the medium, and the story isn't calibrated to that to preserve the comic's balance (which is equally serious & comedic).

There is also a plotting issue behind this to - the pilot does not start the same way as the comic, in the comic Rocky's opponents are some unimportant farmhands he is robbing, meanwhile Mordecai is introduced in full targeting some equally unimportant dudes. Which means people get to die, fight scenes can get brutal, it can pivot from comedic to serious by escalating the stakes. However, since this pilot is all main characters, they all have plot armor, no one can die, so the tone has to stay zany. The characters cant bleed, so the film noir points continue to do so for them.

-- Lol these short thoughts ballooned, sorry! I definitely still liked it, I love Lackadaisy after all. Something I did like was that, even though it could not preserve the sepia-shadow detail of the comic, when given the space it did a lot of great things with lighting, special effects and staging to give it visual flair. Rocky's bridge song has a lot of that:

And the final cigar-ash-burning-the-flower shot was a great all-into-our-vibe choice:

When the pilot chose to be fully art deco or film noir, it really hit it.

-- This pilot is a great example of industry shaping art. This is not a short, its a pilot; a pilot is a pitch letter to production studios asking them to pick up your show. That is a different ask from "be a good first episode for your story". It wants to introduce all the cast because everyone has their favourites and you want to maximize buzz with casting like their voice actors and stuff. It wants to be flashy with a lot of combat and movement because that is what a studio thinks the 'median' audience member wants from a cartoon. It probably toned down the blood because as a cartoon in America it needs to be pitched for an all-ages demo and doesn't want box itself into a corner ratings-wise. The ways it deviates from the comic are probably less artistic desire and instead a combination of the medium-is-the-message and the realities of how a show like this is financed if its going to reach a full cour. I can't fault it for any of that, and it really helps to know those things as you are watching it imo.

-- What is up with the rough pencil motion lines still in the final cut??

This isn't a budget or accident thing, these shots are fully colored and lit and all that, removing those lines would have been trivial. At least I think they should have been. It seems an intentional choice, but it kindof baffles me, why? Someone must have explained this somewhere, I am legitimately asking, if you know tell me.

-- Lots of great Cat Moments, Mordecai hissing at the water, amazing. We need at least one an episode if this gets picked up.

[lilmoony]

Hm maybe Horace from MPHFPC x Shy/protective reader where the reader always gets infront of Horace to protect him. Maybe the reader and (Any peculiar child) get into an argument over something and Horace protects reader this time.

❝ the two times you protected him ; the one time he protected you ❞

pairing: horace somnusson x reader plot: you're always the one protecting horace. until one day he protects you too (set before jacob came in the loop) content: people teasing horace, some arguing, enoch is insufferable (i love him though), fluff if you squint word count: ≈ 1.6k words ps: i hope you'll like it <3

As every September 2nd 1940, you were sat with Horace on a little white bench in the gardon, your sketchbook in your hands. When you were little, your wish was to become a tailor and when you came in Cairnholm, you found a friend who could help you: Horace. Except him, you were great friend with Emma, but that was it. Social relationships weren't really your thing: you always had trouble talking to people since you were a shy and introvert person.

"I need your help because I'm indecisive. My sketches may be subjects to change, okay?" you paused for a moment "I thought about doing a wrap dress just like Elsa Schiaparelli, do you remember?"

"Of course I do."

He went through the pages, nodding everytime.

"You did a beautiful work Y/N" he said while giving you back the sketchbook while you started to blush.

In forty (40) years, you had time to improve your drawing skills, and it really showed.

"It's not tha-"

Olive posted herself in front of you two, shade replacing the sun.

"Hello you two! The boys' balloon is stuck in a tree. They need your help Y/N."

"O-okay, I'm coming back," you said while getting up.

You put down your sketchbook on the bench, next to Horace. Olive took your place, beginning to talk with Horace. You headed towards Millard and Hugues, who were looking a the ballon, which was really high. Depending on who was available, it was either you or Emma who helped with high things. Emma could levitate; you had telekinesis.

"How did you even manage to do this, boys? you asked them, concentrating on the balloon that you unstuck, then slowly lowered.

"It was not me, it was Hughes" replied Millard.

"You're a liar, it was you! accused Hughes.

You only shook your head, a little smile on your lips. You gave them the balloon and headed back to where Olive and Horace were. Something was wrong because you could swear Horace was embarrassed, his lips were pursed and a pinkish shade could be seen on his face. Olive had a big smile on her face and you heard a chuckle coming from her mouth.

"What is happening here?" you asked curiously.

"I really don't know," Olive answered, emphasizing on the "don't".

"Olive, stop it. I know you did something. Leave Horace alone."

"Okay, I'll leave you too," she got up and left you alone.

You waited for a little bit, watching her leave. She turned around at least twice before she got out of your sight.

"What happened?" you asked Horace, a concerned look on your face.

He cleared his throat.

"Nothing, don't worry"

You went back to your conversation, yet Horace wasn't the same and you could feel he was still embarrassed about what Olive had said to him earlier, whatever it might be.

*****

You were currently in the middle of your daily walk, hand in hand with your other friend: Emma. You were talking about animals, one of the subjects she loved to talk about with you.

"You know, when I was a kid, I loved frogs and butterflies. I still do! And one day, my teacher asked us to draw our favorite animal. I didn't know what to choose between these two; I was so indecisive back then. So I decided to draw a frog and a butterfly," you began to tell your story.

"You drew a frog and a butterfly? These are two animals, not one."

"Well, it was... Because I drew a frog with wings and called it a frogerfly."

Emma chuckled. You loved her laughs, and they never failed to make you smile.

"A frogerfly?" she asked, trying to stop her laugh which was beginning to hurt her belly.

"Yes, a frogerfly! And it was a beautiful frogerfly Emma!"

"Oh, I can imagine that!"

You and Emma were caught up in your conversation. Yet, at a moment, you heard some ruckus and a voice shouting. You, Emma and Miss Peregrine, who was almost next to you, turned quickly, confused. Miss Peregrine had, in addition, a frown on her face. The voice you heard was none other than Enoch's, who seemed pretty upset. About what? Well, we never really know. Enoch always seems annoyed.

"Are you serious?" Enoch shouted.

You couldn't say anymore you didn't know who he was talking to. Indeed, everyone had stopped walking, all looking at the noise caused by Enoch. In front of him was Horace, a calm yet confused look on his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Enoch. Please calm down," Horace's voice was cut off again by an exasperated sigh Enoch let out.

"Stop lying and just admit it" Enoch made a step forward towards Horace.

"Enoch, please stop and care explain yourself" exclaimed Miss Peregrine, everyone now was looking at her, except for Enoch who was still looking annoyed at Horace.

"He knows really well" answered the concerned.

"In fact, I don't. Please, enlighten me," replied Horace, his voice extremely calm as Enoch huffed in annoyance.

You went towards them.

"If you won't say what happened, leave Horace. And stop opportuning our walk please," your voice was pretty calm despite the fact that you were talking in front of everyone, who were nodding at your statement.

"It's weird how you always have something to say when it comes to Horace, isn't it? Enoch asked you rhetorically before heading towards Miss Peregrine as your cheeks reddened.

Fortunately, nobody said anything about the comment Enoch had just made, and you could never thank them enough for that. Yet it was true: you had always something to say because he was your friend. Even if your relationship was considered as friendship, you didn't have friendly feelings towards him but rather more romantic feelings.

You all continued your daily walk as if nothing happened. You were now talking with Horace; Emma was trying to talk to Enoch who stopped talking for the rest of the day. So she went to Olive instead, not wanting to disturb you and Horace.

*****

You were currently in the library, searching for the next book you were going to read. Forty (40) years after the beginning of the loop, there were still books you've never read. After some time, you finally decided to read The War of the Worlds, by H. G. Wells. A science-fiction novel. Not your favorite genre, but you liked reading, and one of your objectives was to read the entire library before the twentieth century would come to an end.

You heard someone some steps in the corridor and directly figured out who it was.

"Hello Y/N..." a little voice spoke behind your back.

"Hello Bronwyn," you turned to her. "What do you need, my sweet Bronwyn?"

She loved hearing this nickname in your mouth, and she smiled.

"Could you come in my bedroom? My teddy bear is on the wardrobe, and I can't reach it," she said to you while you frowned a little bit.

"Why is it on your wardrobe?" you let down The War of the Worlds on one of the shelves.

"I think he climbed on it during the night," you couldn't help but smile when you heard her words.

"Oh, of course. Why didn't I think of it earlier?"

You followed her in the corridor when Miss Peregrine's voice call you out.

"Y/N, could you please bring this jar of formalin to Enoch? He forgot it."

"Yes, of course Miss Peregrine."

You took the jar and went upstairs, Bronwyn in front of you. When arriving on the second floor, you headed to Enoch's experiment room, as you called it, while Bronwyn went in her room, waiting for you. Enoch wasn't in his room, so you decided to put down the jar on his table. You walked in the room, not really confident in entering the experiment room while Enoch is absent. But he wasn't really absent.

"Y/N! What are you doing?" a voice shouted at you.

It startled you, almost dropping the jar on the floor. You turned to him, who was standing at the door.

"I- Miss Peregrine told-" you tried to explain but he interrupted you.

"I don't care. You don't have the authorization to come in."

You frowned, confused.

"I didn't know we needed an au-"

"You're the only who need an authorization"

You couldn't say you weren't hurt at his words. Even though you weren't friends, it was still awful to hear this from a person you had to live with for eternity. You simply put down the jar on the table, causing a loud clash. He made a step towards you.

"What is happening? Is everything alright Y/N?" you heard a voice behind Enoch.

This voice belonged to Horace, and you couldn't help a little smile on your lips.

"She-" began Enoch before being cut off by Horace.

"I am speaking to Y/N, Enoch" his calm voice soothing you.

To say Horace's sentence shut Enoch up is an understatement. He was too baffled to answer back. You only shook your head negatively, looking at him while Enoch, as always, huffed in annoyance.

"Come Y/N, let's head to the garden and leave Enoch with his bad temper," he said while offering you his arm.

Some red appeared on your cheeks and you pursed your lips. You nodded and headed towards Horace.

"I have to go to see Bronwyn before," you remembered.

After giving back to Bronwyn her teddy bear, you spent the rest of the day with Horace in the garden, arm in arm. He reassured you about Enoch, telling you to ignore him. Your afternoon was full of joy. You had taken your book and were reading to Horace, who was listening to you, a smile on his face, and watching dreamily.

[ariel-seagull-wings]

THE MARBLE PRINCESS

@princesssarisa @thealmightyemprex @themousefromfantasyland @professorlehnsherr-almashy @adarkrainbow @hamlet-macbeth-othello @professorlehnsherr-almashy @amalthea9 @faintingheroine @softlytowardthesun @grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales @tamisdava2 @barbossas-wench @allthegoodbobdylanlyricsaretaken

(Greek Folktale)

Once upon a time there lived a couple who had only one child. But what a child: a bold and spirited boy worth ten ordinary children. 

All they had besides were two cows and a small field to graze them in. Yet what was the good of two poor cows, especially when their ribs showed through their hides? How much milk could they give? So how could their owners lead anything but a miserable existence?

Still, they could have lived rather better if they had let their cows onto the big meadow next door, which always produced plenty of grass and where no animal had ever grazed.

“Father”, said the boy one day, “why don’t we let our cows feed in the meadow next to ours?”

“Because, my child, that meadow belongs to the wicked giant, and all he ever thinks about is doing evil deeds.”

The boy, however, could not see why so much grass should go to waste, and why a poor couple’s cows should not graze there. 

“It’s not fair!”

He would mutter.

And just as his parents were good, kind hearted people, so, too, was the boy. And he was bold as well, so if it ever came to challenging the giant he would not hesitate a moment.

“Listen, father,” he said one day, 

“I think we should let our cows go into the giant’s meadow.”

“Are you mad, my son ? All he wants is an excuse to knock our cottage down and take our meadow, just as he has done with all his other neighbors.”

“But, father, if that’s the sort of creature that he is, then we ought to fight him.”

“Oh dear,” muttered the poor man to himself.

“My son is going crazy!”

And to make sure they didn’t run into any trouble he began to lead the cows to pasture on his own, always taking great care that they didn’t get into the giant’s meadow. The boy, who by now had reached fifteen, had one ambition in life: to put up such a fight against the wicked giant that he would no longer be able to do people any harm.

But, as things were, his father wouldn’t give him a single chance to pasture the cows himself. One day, however, his father fell ill and had to stay at home to be cared for by his wife. Then, as there was no other solution, he told his son to go and pasture their two animals.

“But be very careful not to let them get into the giant’s meadow, for if they do, we’re lost.”

“All right, father,” replied the boy.

He didn’t want to upset the sick old man, and so he didn’t allow the cows to stray. The boy kept his word through all the days that followed, so when he got his health back, the father allowed him to go on taking the cows.

But one evening, when the boy came home, the beasts had stomachs as enormous as balloons from eating so much grass.

‘How did they manage to find so much to eat?’ the father wondered. Suddenly his blood ran cold.

“My boy, you didn’t let them get into the wicked giant’s meadow by any chance?”

“Yes,” replied the boy.

“I let them in, and I intend to let them graze there everyday.”

When he heard this, his father froze.

“Are we going to quarrel with a giant like that? Are we seeking our own ruin?”

“I won’t let him do us any harm, father. Our troubles are over now. His are just beginning.”

‘Now our son has gone completely mad,’ said the poor man to himself.

‘But then, what sort of life is this we lead? What does it matter if fate overtakes us an hour earlier than was intended?’

So the boy set off again next day to pasture the cows in the forbidden meadow, and this time with his father’s blessing; but when he arrived the giant himself was standing there.

“What are you doing here, you miserable little worm?” he bellowed fiercely.

“I’m letting the cows eat here because there’s lots of grass.”

“And do you know who this meadow belongs to?”

“Yes, I do. But I brought them here to feed because otherwise the grass would go to waste.”

“How dare you speak to me like that! Don’t you realize who I am?”

“Yes, you are the wicked giant who wouldn’t give a glass of water to his own guardian angel. But I’m not afraid of you!”

“Did you say you’re not afraid of me?”

“Yes. I’m not afraid of you.”

“What impudence! Very well, then, since you’re not afraid, come along with me. I’ll show you where I live, and then we’ll see if you’re afraid or not!”

“All right. Let 's go!”

They walked for some time through the giant’s meadows and his ploughlands until eventually they found themselves in front of a huge, lofty castle.

“This is where I live!” said the giant, bursting with pride, as the guards swung the heavy iron gates open.

They entered a wide courtyard, one half fenced off by metal bars, behind which paced a crowd of animals, from cats and dogs to wolves and lions.

“What are those animals?” the young cowherd asked.

“Don’t ask. You’ll find out soon enough when you join them.”

They carried on and entered the castle.

“Would you like to see all the rooms? Have a good look, and you’ll realize just how much I’m worth. But it won’t do you any good, for in the end you’ll finish up just like all the rest.”

“I’m not going to finish up like anybody. But yes, I would like to see all the rooms.”

“Excellent! Take these keys and unlock them.”

He handed him forty keys.

“Explore at your leisure!” he invited in a mocking voice, and left him alone.

The boy opened the first door.

All he could see inside the room was a single pair of slippers. He put them on, and at once became so light he could jump up and touch the ceiling without the slightest effort. If he had been outdoors, he could have hopped across the broadest river.

He recalled the giant’s words: ‘It won’t do you any good.’

“But it’s going to do me a lot of good!”

Exclaimed the bold youth and he popped the slippers into his bag.

He unlocked the second room and found a small sword with its scabbard. The sword was lying on a round table which was actually no more than a huge log. The boy touched the log with the point of the sword, at which it immediately split into two.

“So this is magic, too,” said the boy, and, sliding the sword into its sheath, he put it in his bag.

He unlocked the third room and found nothing but a cap. He put it on and immediately became invisible. He took it off and became visible once more.

“This will be useful, too,” he said with a smile, and popped it into his bag.

He unlocked the next room. It was full of gold florins. He opened the next. It was heaped with diamonds. He opened another. It was piled with pearls. All the other rooms in turn were filled with similar riches. The boy was dazzled by the giant’s treasures, but he didn’t keep anything. 

‘What I’ve already taken will be plenty for me,’ he said to himself.

Two rooms remained. He unlocked the first, and what did he see? On a bed carved with matchless craftsmanship there lay a girl as beautiful as any angel. At first the cowherd thought she was asleep, but he soon realized she had been turned into marble. 

His heart beat faster with admiration for her beauty, yet with pain as well, because he pitied her. But it also beat with anger against the wicked giant for doing this evil thing to her.

“I must release her - but how?”

He cried.

“Perhaps I will find a way when I see what secret is hidden in the final room - for if the giant has set a trap for me, that is where it will be. If I come out victorious, what happiness will follow! Everything will end joyfully. I shall release this beautiful maiden and, if she will have me, I will make her my wife!”

Very cautiously, the boy opened the last door. And there before him, with a welcoming smile, stood a tall, striking woman with slanting eyebrows over large dark eyes, and a chin jutting with pride and power. But at the back of the room, which was as vast a great hall, on a lofty, throne-like seat, there sat the evil giant himself.

The woman, who was neither very young nor very old, was holding a rod in her hand. With a wordless gesture, she invited the young man to come forward. He knew at once that he was dealing with a witch, and only took a couple of short steps. 

She in turn took two and, with a honeyed smile, stretched out her wand to touch his head. But with one lightning movement the boy snatched the wand from her grasp and snapped it in two. 

That did the trick! The witch uttered a cry of terror and despair. 

But worst of all the wicked giant toppled headlong from his lofty throne, striking his head a fatal blow.

Now the young herdsman possessed such a kind heart that he felt pity even for the terrible giant, and he ran to his assistance while the witch, her proud wings clipped, cornered in a corner of the hall.

“I am past any help,” the giant groaned.

“I know my time has come. I have been defeated, and you have escaped my clutches. You have not been turned into an animal like the others you saw down in the courtyard, creatures that were once all human beings. Now my castle, with all my riches, my guards and my servants, is yours. You have the forty keys. The last one also unlocks the outer gate. I wanted to do you harm, but now I shall help you instead. In the rear courtyard you will find a winged white horse which cannot only fly but also speak and prophesy. Make friends with it and it will help you more than you can possibly imagine. Use the slippers to jump with, the sword to cut whatever resists an ordinary blade and the cap to make yourself invisible. You have seen the marble maiden. You saw how beautiful she is! She is a princess who I kidnapped because I desired her for my wife but, who knows why, she would not even look at me. I believed that I could gradually win her round; but my longing for that loveliest of maidens aroused the envy of this jealous witch, and she turned her to marble. Pursue her now until she undoes the spell that turned the princess into stone and releases the people she turned into animals.”

As soon as the witch heard the giant’s words, she slipped away. The young man immediately ran after her, but she turned into smoke and vanished. Only her voice could be heard: 

“I shall be in the Red Tower. You will never find me there - but even if you do, it will be the end of you.”

The young man at once returned to the giant. He found him surrounded by servants and guards who had rushed to assist their master. But they could do nothing. The wicked giant was dead.

Then they all bowed low to the young man and said:

“We are yours to command, new master!”

But the young herdsman had no time to lose. He hurried to the rear courtyard and found the horse, which neighed fiercely. The boy stroked its neck and spoke to it as though it was human:

“I want to save the Marble Princess. I want to rescue the people who have been turned into animals. You must help me to find the witch who has done all these wicked deeds and has now fled to the Red Tower. If you know where that is, and if you want to do some good, then take me there.”

This time the horse neighed gently and replied:

“I am the only creature who can tell you where the Red Tower is. Climb onto my back and I will take you there, for I can see you are doing this in a good cause. But it is not such a simple matter to capture this witch and make her obey you. So go into the stable and there, in a shelf, you will find a mirror, a penknife and a piece of cloth. These are all magic, and you will need them.”

He then explained to him how these things would prove useful.

The young man went and fetched the things the horse had described and then climbed on its back, and the horse, opening out its huge white wings, soared into the sky.

After they had traveled quite a way, they saw a blue cloud up ahead.

“What is that cloud?”

Enquired the boy.

“That is no cloud. It is the Young Man of the Sea. Let’s go to meet him.”

“Greetings,” said the cowherd when they reached him.

“Welcome to you, young friend. You’re a fine strong lad, and so am I. But to be honest with you, we’re not in the same league as that young fellow who overcame the wicked giant.”

“And if you were to meet him, what would you wish to call him?”

“My brother!”

“Well, I am he - so let’s become brothers!”

They threw their arms around each other, kissed, and then, pricking their fingers, they marked each other with their blood, became brothers and journeyed on together.

After a while they reached a city. In the middle of this city, in a big square, a large crowd had gathered. The king was there with his twelve courtiers and they were all grouped around the ‘Enchanted Marble’, a huge lump of stone which was so enormous that even six men holding hands could not encircle it.

They were all begging God to cut the Marble in two, because they believed that this was the only way to banish misfortune from their city. But God had other things on his mind, and the Marble was so hard that no one who tried to cut it or break it could even make a scratch on its surface.

The young herdsman approached and read an inscription on the Marble which said:

He who cuts me in two with one blow of his sword

Will bestow on the people a mighty reward.

Then the boy drew his magic sword and struck the Marble, which instantly split in two and, marvelous to relate, filled the square with gold florins!

There were so many that even after the people had helped themselves to all they could carry off, as much again was still left for the king.

Everybody then joined in praise of the young man, and the king told him:

“You have done such a great favor to my people and to me that you deserve to take my daughter for your wife.”

“Thank you, your majesty, but let your daughter take my brother, the fine Young Man of the Sea, for I am promised to another, and he is as deserving as I am.”

The king agreed, and the Young Man of the Sea married the fair princess.

Before they went their separate ways, the young herdsman took out the magic mirror he had found in the stable and gave it to his new brother, saying:

“Take this mirror. If you see it cloud over, that will mean I have great need of you, and you must hurry to my aid.”

With these words he mounted the marvelous horse and then soared off into the sky to fly to the Red Tower.

After a while they saw a black cloud.

“Once again, what is that strange cloud?” asked the boy.

“That is no cloud,” the horse replied.

“It is the Young Man of the Land. Let’s go to meet him.”

“Greetings,” the cowherd said as soon as they drew near.

“Welcome to you, young friend. I’m a fine strong lad, and so are you. But we’re not in the same league as that young fellow who overcame the wicked giant and split the enchanted Marble in two with one blow of his sword,” said the Young Man of the Land.

“And if the two of you chanced to meet, what would you choose to call him?”

“My brother!”

“Well, I am he - so let’s become brothers!”

They threw their arms around each other, they kissed, they pricked their fingers and marked each other with their blood, they became brothers, and continued their journey together.

Soon they reached a large city which was divided in two by a great river.

“That is the ‘accursed river’,” said the horse. “They call it that because it's bewitched and every so often it bursts into banks and causes untold damage. It will stop wreaking havoc if it changes course, but this will only happen, they say, if someone can cross it in a single bound. And that, as you can see, is quite impossible.”

At that moment, they heard from down below town-criers proclaiming that the king would give his daughter to any man who could save the city from the accursed river.

“Let’s go down,” said the boy, “down there by the palace.”

They descended quickly and the young man made his way straight to the king. 

“Long life to your majesty!” he said.

“I can cross that river with a single bound.”

“I don’t believe it, but I would like to see you try, for wonders often happen. If you succeed, I shall give you not only my daughter but my throne as well.”

The king and his courtiers proceeded to the bank of the river, hoping for some kind of miracle. 

Then the boy put on the magic slippers. He gave a great leap and the miracle occurred. The cowherd soared across the broad river. 

And then another miracle took place: the river began to boil and foam because now, instead of flowing towards the sea, it turned back in its course. As it flowed backwards, it swelled and swelled until it was strong enough to climb the mountain and then roll down the other side. And as it did so, the irresistible surge of its waters cut the mountain in two, creating a deep ravine. 

Through this ravine now flowed the river, which ceased to be accursed and became blessed, because it now watered a whole plain which had till then lain dry and bare.

Overcome with emotion, the king embraced the young man.

“Now you deserve my daughter and the whole of my kingdom,” he said, kissing him.

“No, your majesty,” replied the cowherd, whose mind was constantly upon the Marble Maiden.

“But give your daughter to my brother, the Young Man of the Land, who is more deserving than I am. I cannot marry her.”

So it happened. And when the two brothers parted, the young man said: 

“My brother, take this penknife. Leave it as it is, open. But if you ever see it closed, know that I have need of you and hurry to find me, wherever I may be.”

Then he mounted his winged horse and continued his journey toward the Red Tower to find the wicked witch.

Suddenly they saw in front of them a flame colored cloud.

“Once again, what is that fiery cloud?”

“That is no cloud. It is the Young Man of the Skies, the son of the Sun.”

“Greetings to you,” said the cowherd when they reached him.

“Welcome to you, young friend. You’re a fine strong lad, and so am I. But we’re not in the same league as that young fellow who overcame the wicked giant, who split the enchanted marble with one blow of his sword and who crossed the accursed river in a single bound.”

“And if the two of you were to meet, what would you wish to call him?”

“My brother!”

“Well, I am he - so let’s become brothers!”

Straightaway they embraced, kissed, pricked fingers and marked each other with their blood and became brothers. 

Journeying on to the Red Tower, they came to a large city. There the king was being driven out of his mind by grief. Every evening, when his daughter went to bed, she would disappear for the whole night, and nobody knew where she went. When she returned, she acted as if she were in a trance. 

She always managed to elude anyone who was ordered to keep a watch on her to find out what was happening. Now the king had sent out heralds to proclaim that whoever could find out where his daughter went at night might have her as his wife.

The cowherd learned of this and went to the palace.

“Your majesty, I will discover where your daughter goes.”

“Lots of people had told me that, young man. Some of them I trusted. I gave them whatever assistance they needed, but nothing ever came of it. Tell me, though, what help you want from me so that you, too, may make your attempt.”

“I need nothing. Only allow me to sleep in her room.”

They placed another bed in the princess’s chamber, and the young herdsman went there to sleep. 

The princess began to tease him:

“Are you the little chap who’s going to find out where I go at night?”

“I am indeed. And I am going to succeed!”

“Then let me tell you I don’t go anywhere. It’s just an idea that they got hold of.”

“I hope so. Because I am so tired that I don’t want to lose my sleep.”

And he yawned.

The girl lay down on her bed, the young man lay down on his and, after a while, began to snore so convincingly that you would have sworn he really was asleep.

The princess was taken in by it and got out of bed. Walking on tiptoe, she dressed and left the room.

At once the young man got up, too, donned the magic cap, became invisible and followed her.

They reached a magic glade illuminated by thousands of stars which shed an unearthly brightness. Nereids of dazzling beauty were dancing there, and invisible sprites were singing. As soon as the princess arrived, a water-nymph tripped up to her to swathe her neck in pearls, but in her haste she dropped them. With one bound, the invisible young man ran up and snatched the pearls. The nereids searched for them, but when their efforts came to nothing, they brought her more. Then they all joined the dance together with the princess. At some point, while she was dancing with her arms outstretched, the invisible boy ran up, and before you could say ‘knife’, he grabbed her ring.

“My ring! I lost my precious ring!” the princess cried out anxiously.

They searched for it but could find nothing. As for the young herdsman, he ran back to the palace, went to bed and fell asleep, without pretending this time.

At daybreak the princess also returned and when she saw him lying there she laughed mockingly.

When the young man woke up, he went straight to the king.

“I have seen where your daughter goes at night. But I want her to be present when I tell you.”

They went and summoned the princess and the young man began his story.

“Yesterday night, when I was lying in my bed and she was lying in hers, I pretended to fall asleep immediately. Indeed, I snorted. Then she got up, dressed and left.”

“Lies, Father!” shouted the princess.

“I followed her. Don’t ask me how it was she didn’t notice me. I can prove what I’m saying. We walked a long way, her leading and I following behind, until we reached a magic glade in a forest lit by hundreds and thousands of stars.”

“He’s a big liar, Father! Don’t listen to him!”

“There,” continued the young herdsman, “were dancing lovely water-nymphs with dresses woven from spiders’ webs and veils which billowed in the breeze, while the air was filled with the singing of unseen voices. As soon as the princess went to join the dance, a nereid ran to grace her neck with pearls, but she dropped them, and I, unseen by all, picked the pearls up.”

“How can you sit there and listen to such a storyteller?”

Demanded the king’s daughter.

“Look, here they are! Or don’t you recognize them?” 

He challenged the princess. Her face turned scarlet when she saw the pearls.

“No, I don’t recognize them,” she mumbled, but with confusion all over her face.

“After I had taken the pearls,” the young man continued, “they brought some more and put them on her. Then she joined the dance, but I again, without being seen by anyone, snatched the princess’s ring from her hand. Here it is. You must all recognize it.”

As soon as the princess saw the ring, she remained rooted to the spot. In despair, she struck her forehead repeatedly with her head. 

And then it was as though she was suddenly awakened from a deep slumber, as though she were returning from the world of dreams to reality. 

For at that moment, certain awful spells were broken which an evil witch had laid on her. 

She felt as if a burden had been lifted from her and, begging forgiveness from her mother and fathers, she burst into tears.

“You shouldn’t cry, my daughter, but rejoice because you have been cured of a terrible sickness. Here is the young man who has made you well. He must become your husband.”

“No, Your Majesty,” replied the young herdsman, “I cannot. My brother, the Young Man of the Skies, will take your daughter. He is more deserving than I am.”

And so it came about.

But on parting from his new brother, he gave him the magic cloth and said:

“Take this cloth, brother. If you see it becoming bloody you must hurry to my side, for I shall have urgent need of you.”

And when they had said their farewells, he mounted the winged horse and together they soared into the sky.

“Take me now, my horse, to the Tower that you know of. Let’s go to seize the witch and force her to lift the spells from the Marble Princess and from the people she has turned into animals.”

Ever obedient, the marvelous horse flew swiftly towards the Red Tower, which could now be faintly seen on the horizon. 

Eventually they arrived. The young herdsman was dazzled by the sight of it. It was a huge structure whose battlements brushed the clouds. 

All around it was a lofty wall constructed from enormous stones like those which only a Cyclops could lift. 

The entrance consisted of two great iron doors bristling with sharp pointed swords, so that from outside you could not approach.

But the young herdsman’s marvelous horse had no difficulty entering the Tower. He soared over the wall, above the heads of the guards. Down below the courtyard they saw lots of animals, just like the ones imprisoned in the giant’s castle. 

The young man realized that these, too, had been people once, and that if he failed in his purpose he would become a beast as well.

“Good little horse, now fly up to that Tower there.”

The winged horse flew him straight to the place he pointed out. 

The young herdsman jumped down and, magic sword in hand, entered the tower. 

Lo and behold, in that very spot, swaying to and fro in a rocking chair, sat the terrible witch. 

Startled, she immediately leapt to her feet. 

“Don’t move!”

Ordered the young fellow, who may have been short in stature, but was great in spirit.

“Now you will do whatever I command you. For you must surely know that this sword in my hand is the very one which split the enchanted marble.”

The witch bowed her head, admitting her defeat.

“I will do whatever you command,” she said.

“Well done, that’s the idea. So let’s go first to release the people down there in the courtyard, that you turned into animals.”

They went down at once. The witch lifted the spells from the animals and they turned into people again.

“Now order the guards to open the doors and let the people go.”

What choice did she have? She did exactly as the young man told her.

“Now we’ll return to the horse,” he ordered.

Quickly they ascended to the terrace. The young cowherd set her on the horse’s back and mounted up behind her.

“My horse,” he commanded, “fly back now to the castle of the wicked giant.”

The horse spread its broad wings and soared straight into the sky. But a great journey lay ahead of them. After long hours of flying, they needed a rest to drink water and eat some food.

They landed in a city.

As bad luck would have it, the ruler of this city was a friend of the witch. Pretending to make the young man welcome, he managed secretly to remove the magic sword and hide it. As for the wicked witch, she succeeded in finding another place to conceal herself. 

The young man was overcome with grief. Was the lovely maiden now doomed to lie like stone forever in the castle of the wicked giant? And were the people the terrible witch had turned to animals in that same castle fated to remain imprisoned forever in its courtyard?

No, that must never be!

Then he remembered his brothers - but would they realize what desperate need he had for them?

Confronted with this great emergency, however, the mirror in the keeping of the Young Man of the Sea grew cloudy; the penknife given to the Young Man of the Land closed of its own accord; while the cloth kept by the Young Man of the Skies grew red with blood. Thus each of them realized that his brother had great need of him and at once mounted his cloud. And even though they lived far apart from one another, in the end they all assembled in the place they had been summoned to.

“What has happened to you, brother? What evil has befallen you?”

“They have taken my sword, and the witch has escaped from me. If I do not find them both, neither will the marble maiden be released, nor will the wicked giant’s animals be restored to human shape again.”

Immediately, the Young Man of the Skies begged his father, the Sun, to cast his strong light on the secret hidden corners of the land and sea.

The Young Man of the Land ordered all the animals, including even the ants, to search everywhere for the stolen sword and the missing witch.

And the Young Man of the Sea commanded all the fish to hunt for the sword and the witch in every nook and cranny of the watery kingdom.

Good news soon came. A dolphin brought the cowherd’s sword up from the bottom of the sea, while shortly afterwards an ant arrived and revealed the hiding-place of the terrible witch.

So evil had no chance to prosper.

Taking up his sword again, the young man hastened to the spot revealed by the ant and found the witch. He seized her by the hair, threw her across the horse’s back, and they flew swiftly to the palace of the wicked giant.

As soon as they arrived and saw the animals, the boy ordered the witch to lift the spells from them.

She had no choice but to undo the magic and they at once turned back into people who, with shouts of joy, thanked the young man who had rescued them.

“And now, forward!” commanded the herdsman, “forward to the chamber where the Marble Princess lies!”

“You’re a fine young man, and I admit you have defeated me,” said the witch.

“For you I have released so many people, both here and at the Red Tower. So couldn’t you do me just one favor in return? Couldn’t that Maiden who stole the wicked giant’s love from me be left to lie in Marble for all time?”

“Delay a moment longer, and it will be the end of you.”

What else could the witch do? She accompanied the herdsman to the place where the beautiful Princess lay. Stretching out her right hand, with a trembling finger she touched the Marble Maiden, muttering secret words which she alone had mastery of.

And lo and behold, in a little while the maiden’s eyes began to flutter.

“It is done,” said the witch to the young herdsman.

“Now say what other commands you have for me.”

“Remove yourself immediately from my sight and be gone forever.”

And as the witch vanished, the beautiful Princess began to regain consciousness.

She opened her eyes completely and cast them about the room until her gaze fell on the handsome young man. She tried to rise, but did not have the strength. The herdsman took her hand and helped her.

“How long have I slept,” she yawned, “and oh! how heavily!”

“That was no sleep. A wicked witch had turned you into marble.”

“Her! Oh, I remember her. But I fear she will do me more harm. And if she cannot, then the giant, the wicked giant, will do me more harm still!”

“Fear no more. The wicked giant has been killed.”

“And the wicked witch has just this minute drowned in the river,” said the herdsman’s three brothers, appearing in the doorway.

“But how did I come to be saved?” asked the fair Maiden.

As if she already knew the answer, she fixed her large bright eyes on the fine young man, the handsome and noble cowherd who had rescued her. And he, by way of reply, lifted her from the bed in his strong arms and drew her into his embrace. And there and then, in the presence of his brothers, whose faces shone with joy, he planted the kiss of love upon her lips.

The very next day, in that castle which now was theirs by right, a splendid wedding was celebrated, followed by a banquet which lasted nine whole days and nights. The young herdsman’s father and mother were there. There were also the princess’s royal parents, who thought they had lost their daughter forever.

There, too, were the bridegroom’s three new brothers, the fine Young Men of the Land, the Sea and the Skies. There as well were all the people the wicked witch had transformed into animals. 

And I myself was there - every evening I sat and entertained them with my finest stories.

The servants and the guards rushed to and fro, never quite managing to serve us all, but they were bursting with happiness and high spirits, because they had escaped the clutches of the terrible wicked giant and the even more terrible witch.

Mixing lies with what is true

That’s what folk-tales always do.

But, though magic has its season, 

Give me the man who relies on reason!

[cantsayidont]

April 1974. The KAMANDI, THE LAST BOY ON EARTH series says that a Great Disaster ended our world and brought about the rise of the talking animals, with surviving humans reduced (as in PLANET OF THE APES) to a bestial state. The original series never specifies exactly what the Great Disaster was, although in KAMANDI #16, Kirby does reveal how the animals became sentient: A Walter Reed physician named Michael Grant (whose diary is presented in the handwritten captions) had developed a "brain-enhancing" chemical called Cortexin, which was released during the Disaster. In this story, a gorilla doctor named Hanuman finds Grant's diary and notes and manages to recreate Cortexin, which is released again during an attack on Washington by the Tiger Empire. (Among those exposed is a group of feral humans, suggesting, as Hanuman's thought balloons imply, that history may again reverse itself.)

After Kirby's departure, DC attempted to fit KAMANDI into other future timelines, asserting that the Great Disaster was the great atomic war of ATOMIC KNIGHTS and that Kamandi himself was the grandson of Buddy Blank, the nebbish alter ego of OMAC. I don't think that Kirby intended any such thing (he certainly wouldn't have tied it to ATOMIC KNIGHTS except under editorial duress), and there's no indication that he had any particular plan to reveal the whole circumstances of the Great Disaster. Its function in the story (other than of course to set up Kamandi's future) is just to give Kamandi a goal, albeit an open-ended one, in his wanderings, and resolving it would limit its value as a plot device. Thus, the truth about the Great Disaster is a mystery that's not intended to be solved, which is a once-common storytelling conceit that now seems a little old-fashioned, and one I think modern creators have some trouble getting their heads around even where they aren't trying to rhetorically go to war with Kirby the way John Byrne is wont.

[grahamcarmen]

RedCrackle week: Day 3: Future

1100- ish words on a quiet little moment in the RED building

“And here I thought we’d both been the only ones in our graduating class to avoid the animal nicknames,” Carmen laughed at Gray, sitting on the couch in what seemed to be a new panda hoodie. At least that’s what it must have been; black sleeves, white torso, and what looked like 2 little black ears on the hood that didn’t quite make it onto his head, which was resting on the back of the sofa.

Gray looked away from the ceiling to give her a wary look. “Ha ha. ‘Rora chose this for me. Wanted to match and-”

“You couldn’t say no.”Carmen sat down, leaning back into the open shoulder of his arm stretched out on the sofa, letting a small grocery bag slide to the floor. “and now?”

“Somewhere in this house are two little red pandas hiding with the rest of team red.”

“You’re definitely not a RED panda.” She gave the ears on the hood a little flick with her fingers.

“Well she changed her mind about matching, wanted something red,” his lips almost twitched into a smile before he grimaced instead. “So she suggested I be a koala.”

“What? Why?” Carmen said in a half baffled breath.

Gray gave her a flat look. Ah.

“She thought I should live up to my nickname in some way. She got so excited about it. Barely convinced her I was fine with the original plan even if she was a red panda instead.” He raised a brow at her. Carmen had never been able to shake the nickname she gave him. It suited him too well and after everything she’d taken each and every opportunity to say it, safe in the knowledge he thought so too now.

Even in the good-natured tiredness that he’d almost been made a different type of mascot for Aurora.

“Don’t think you’ve escaped either, they made sure to get you one too.” Carmen chuckled.

“So, you mentioned them being with the rest of team red?” 

Gray gestured to an open box next to the couch, propped up with a makeshift slingshot. A plate of rice krispies with sprinkles in the center of the trap. 

“Zack set that up when I told him I was actually having trouble finding those little ankle biters. However, he and Ivy have seemingly been recruited.”

"What makes you think that."

"Zack screaming 'sorry Gray we've been recruited' with one of the treats in his mouth before running off might be the reason." He sighed.

Carmen clicked her tongue “After making those rice krispies with you too?” She jabbed a thumb in the direction of the messy kitchen.

Gray preferred eating out or convenient foods. However, meeting with Antonio more often however had opened him up to a couple recipes as long as they were quick and straightforward.

“Mole promised me it was only like 3 or 4 ingredients, kiddos said they wanted to MAKE rice krispies for some reason and the redheads promised to help as long as we got other snacks.”

Gray looked at the box trap resentfully. "So yeah. Still knowing those two that still might work. Maybe."

Carmen nodded at the mountains of bags surrounding, in front of, and on the counters. “But what do you need pie crusts for?”

“I don’t know, I think Ivy said she was gonna help them make a pie.”

“And the water balloons?” she said with a sneaking suspicion already forming in her mind.

“It's summer.” Gray shrugged.

“It's winter.”

“I don’t think that makes a difference here.” He said matter of factly and rightly so, the weather here was always warm. Still...

Carmen glanced at the bag of pop-its fireworks she’d left on the floor after having been sent an emergency text asking for some by Ladrien. She thought she was starting to get the picture.

“And you’re making yourself comfortable here because?” She pushed the bag under the couch with her foot before propping herself up on Gray's arm.

“They said I could wait for backup.” He turned his head towards her and gave her a lazy soft grin. “As long as I gave you this.”

He handed her a small vanilla colored business card. The kids had insisted on getting professional looking stationary on which to write schemes and “calling cards” like any self-respecting thieves they’ve seen on their cartoons. They’d hastily assured her that they were talking about good thieves like her.

[Hey Carm, Ivy and I are hiding too :D You should find us fast kids are getting restless and this’ll probably turn into prank war 2.0 and we really should get started on our marathon soon. It's like 8 movies. Good luck!]

Carmen narrowed at the slight warning in the middle of the happy sentences. “Gray did you…read this by any chance.”

“Told me I couldn’t if I wanted backup.” He hated to be left in the dark but the extra help, her presence, had been more important. “And I thought as long as I knew what OUR plan was going to be…”

“Well, you’re really gonna need it so…”Carmen rested her forehead on his temple. “I guess I could help you out.”

“You guess?” He turned his head to look at her with joking irritation.

Carmen leaned in and kissed him softly, grinning when she felt him smiling into the kiss. She could forgive his current incurious mood when she knew he actually had them working together in mind.

“Guess I made the right choice then.”

She nodded to the red hat bobbing gingerly behind the couch. “Look I even found our first team red member,” She said, lifting the hat to reveal a sheepish Ivy in what seemed to be a green- blue t-rex onesie complete with a tail.

“Ivy.” Gray said flatly, craning his neck to the side to meet her eyes.

“Graham Cracker.” Ivy said, still crouching.

“Ivy, we were just about to go find you guys.”

“Yeah well ‘rora insisted on sending a messenger. They wanted to make sure to give you fair warning, so they asked me to deliver this.”

Carmen eyed the hat in her hands and then the onesie.

“Ladrien insisted. He’s got good taste huh.” Ivy said with a broad smile, handing over another professional vanilla colored business card with red chicken scratches on it.

Carmen squinted at it and read aloud.

[Dearest adults! SHADOWSAN HAS JOINED OUR TEAM AND YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES BEFORE THE FIRST-]

smack

Carmen’s eyes widened, feeling some drops of water hit the side of her face.She turned to see Gray and Ivy, stunned and soaked, bits of balloons clinging to their hair.

Both of their stunned looks quickly shifted into determined frowns.

“Prank happens?” Carmen offered the next words on the card awkwardly.

“You little anklebiters!” They said in unison as they darted after the peals of laughter from the hall.

Carmen took her commlink from her pocket.

“Player, hope you’re not busy. Gonna need some help evening some odds. Seems some members of team red have declared war.”

“Prank war 2.0?”

Carmen grinned, secured the red hat still in her hand onto her head and followed.

[practicecourts]

Life's a Beach and then You Dive

Chapter 6 many thanks for the help @justfinishthis

snippet under the cut / or go here for the beginning.

“Look Five, I’m not naive about this,” he waves a hand between them, “I know this is just for tonight, we’ll both be leaving this dust hole for another lovely town sooner rather than later, don’t worry I know. It’s just since you’re not on the run, are you here tomorrow? Perhaps we could spend some time together? I’ll probably be around for a few more days. Nothing’s certain of course, it never is.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow morning for work.” Lily shrugs helplessly, “and if you were just saying that to be nice, there’s really no need–”

“NO! Of course not.” He actually sounds offended and Lily’s suddenly feeling warm and strangely excited. She can’t even remember the last time a guy asked her out. This man seems to never play by the rules. Of course, it’s hardly the height of romance but she can feel her heart flutter a little and because she’s sick of playing by the rules as well she says “Okay, my turn to ask you something. What if I didn’t have to leave tomorrow and we could go anywhere in the world for a day. Where would you go?”

“With you?” His voice does something to her, it’s making her blush, warmth creeping up her body, she’s thankful there is not much skin for him to see, but it’s awkward enough to feel the burn in her neck and cheeks. She swallows, trying to keep her tone neutral.

“Sure, if you asked nicely, I’d come along.”

“Hmm. Have you ever been in a hot air balloon?” When she shakes her head he grins and it just does something to her,

 “I’d like to take you to a private reserve I know of in Africa. We’ll take a balloon up in the air, that way we get to see the savanna from the sky. We will be flying over the wilderness and underneath us are wildebeest, zebra, lions, elephants.”

“That sounds lovely.” “There’s nothing like it, Five, also if we’re lucky we’ll get to see my favourite animal,” she arches a brow, curious as to what this animal might be.

“Waterbuck, a whole herd of them at the watering place. Have you ever seen one?”

“I’m not sure, remind me what they look like?”

“There’s typically just one buck in a herd, they’re the ones with the antlers. Straight and long. Makes them a bit severe, but truthfully they’re fluffy looking. On their back, there’s a white ring-shaped mark.”

“Like a toilet seat, right?” she jokes.

“Yes, that’s exactly what my dad told me. I saw them for the first time on safari with my parents. I think I was twelve, needless to say, they’ve been my favourite ever since.”

“Did you go on safari with your parents often, or just the one time?”

“We went a few times. We had what would turn out to be our last safari together a few years back. We went to South Africa and decided we couldn’t leave before seeing some waterbuck. Almost ignored the rhinos until we got some good views of the infamous toiletseat-deer.” The memory lights up his face, Lily thinks he’s beautiful like this.

“Twelve, I’m speechless I’ve never gone ballooning, let alone above the African Savannah. Have you really done this?”

“Yes, I did once. Not with my parents, although I think they would’ve loved that. They always loved going to go on safari with us.” He looks a bit sad now.

“I’m sorry”

“For what”?”

“I’m sorry to hear about your parents.”

“Oh they’re not—, they are very much alive. Just too old now for that kind of travelling. They don’t leave England anymore.” He scrubs his neck with his hand.

“Oh.”

“They had me very late. Doctors said I shouldn’t even have been possible, but here we are. Anyway. Your turn.”

“I can’t compete with that! I mean, you showed me Waterbuck.”

“Five, come on, after all the trouble I’ve gone to, to make this the perfect date? You’re not even going to agree to go on a second date with me?”

“What? This wasn’t a date,” she’s trying to sound severe but failing as her blush reaches her ears. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

[amyisherenowitsokay]

Here's an interesting one. How do you balance and deal with the deus ex machina situation of Irken technology? Even in the show, said technology is ridiculous. Seems like it'd be far too easy to shoot plot in the foot if there's absurdly simple (even if they're ''but wait, what if'' or something) solutions.

Both how do you muse, plan and construct it in your writing but also how did you figure it out for re:mhny 1? Additionally, any personal headcannons you brewed up? Favourite canon or personal technologies?

I enjoy answering these, tysm for sending them in.

(Long answer under the cut)

My general attitude towards Irken technology is to make sure everything either has a purpose or a punchline.

For example, in re:mhny1 I totally could have had Zim be able to whip out some magic space-crowbar that's regularly used to pop off malfunctioning PAKs, or have it exist but have him have trouble trying to get his hands on it, etc.

The easiest route I take and/or my headcannon is that Irken technology is by and for IRKENS, not people, and therefore cannot be used for people. Irken technology is much more advanced in the IZ universe, even with Membrane's contributions to humanity. They're extremely adept at war, fighting, infiltration, and anything that could cause general harm (such as giant water balloons to throw at your enemies' heads from space). But re:mhny1 didn't need weapons of war, it needed medical aid. And not just any medical aid, but medical aid to a human. It's the reason Zim struggled to monitor Gaz's vitals, but was able to tear through Valkian security.

The only things Irkens build for other species is shock collars, chains, etc. Everything else is for them and them only. In the same way some of our medicine is lethal to animals, so is Irken medicine, but unlike people, Irkens would never see a point to trying to make accommodations or equivalently-effective technology or medicine. If Zim had been faced with let's say Skoodge with a broken PAK, even excluding the expertise I gave Skoodge in this fic, Zim probably would've been able to pop it off in a couple hours. Maybe a day, max.

I sort of touched on this explicit theme in re:mhny1, but essentially the way I handle it is keeping that theme of compatibility and usefulness in mind. Zim had plenty of ways to monitor and x-ray Gaz, but sometimes they were finicky and insufficient, such as in chapter 6. Chapter 6 was basically me wanting to sip on that good fanservice juice, but it's also got a perfect example of justifiable technological limitations when utilized for cross-species application.

"Her monitoring bracelet was sending only the bare minimum signals. It was a wonder he hadn't noticed sooner how insufficient the data was. The device was calibrated to the much more simplistic, refined information of an Irken. Humans, unfortunately, had so many squishy bits and thumping bobs that it was impossible to evaluate their well-being. Not with this little data, anyways.

So that really covers the 'purpose' section of 'purpose and punchline.' For punchline, chapter 4 has a good example and also has one of my favorite pointless gags with Zim's weird chair:

". . . Do you mean a seesaw?"

Basically I'm much more free with technology if I think it'd make a good running joke, but otherwise I utilize Zim's tech as tools to aid or progress the storyline. I knew I wanted Gaz to get stuck with a PAK for a prolonged period of time, and I also knew I wanted Larb's memories to trickle into Gaz's consciousness. I wanted her to have understandings of Irken culture without Zim uncharacteristically revealing everything and anything, and also to late create the conflict between them in Chapter 11, when Gaz is privy to Zim's most closely guarded secret about his Defectiveness. To achieve that, I broke the PAK, and also made it possible to delete the consciousness and create an empty shell. Additionally, this further aids the story since the lack of a host personality leads to the discovery that Gaz has more control of it in emergency situations, and let's her go full fight mode in the finale chapters.

Basically, if it's not going to contribute, then I don't even bother bringing it up or mentioning its existence to keep readers from pondering "why don't they just use xyz?"

If I had to explicitly pick a favorite piece of technology, I think it'd have to be the PAK legs and/or PAktcles, when they're more flexible and prehensile. The PAK itself is cool, but the spider-crawly-laser-stabby-grabby-grip qualities of them are unparalleled in their coolness. They're so fun to work with from a narrative perspective. Those aren't really my headcannon since they ARE just cannon qualities, but I guess it could be argued that my utilizations for them are sometimes unique? Ish? Lmao.

If Irken technology can do ANYTHING, then it can also bend to my will. Hehehehe.

[the-firebird69]

This is not the Lion King but it is my motorcycle and it is me and it's a real lion and he get up there and he hold on and he had like a seat but he would snuggle with you and his big head would be like pushing against you and little cats do it in with him doing it he's really strong so I had trouble keeping the bike up straight and he kind of noticing these off a little he says this is fun he get off and he come up and lick him he was a great great lion I think he's still around and he's a friend but boy people are very mean to them I don't think he'll be nice to me like this probably not he says when they get afraid of humans to go last for a long time and they remember it too one day I had to whip him a little and he got mad at me you go stay away from me then so I stayed away for a while and I tried coming back and he said no Wendy is ready to say hello again and you whip me a little they said there that's what it's like and I stood there and watched it I said no one and now what and he became a friend again I said don't do that so that's how it is with him and some people most people what a beautiful animal and I miss him and I miss Rusty and all those doggies and cats and the family this is hell it's so stupid someone gave me the assignment in a very mean about it it's probably the max and the hostile they don't want to give it their lives here you're mad at everyone's what they're doing to those house for what they're doing to themselves now I want to do this idea this is not the motorcycle he's talking about if you saw it you laugh but it's really a kind of a cool idea and that's why they came about was for us to have gas mileage and a cushy seat that's what he's looking for damn it and we need it it's hilarious his ideas are very weird but having a carnival and doing this is great and I think that Lily is thinking about it all the time and she has a couple Acts she can do and she says it's not real complicated stuff and a friend says even finger painting is good for kids and adults and she said that's terrific and good ideas but she has better ideas some people will get together and this is going to be great and he says you make like a small one and you see how it goes and you have to get a permit for that kind of thing I don't think they charge much but he's right you're making small one and then we can do a big carnival and we can have acts along the way and it's important to have pantomime and this is probably where it came from and we're not going to go up to Sarasota unless we try something so we could should get going on this and today is Thursday it's a little late for this weekend but we can try stuff out at our houses and have parties and get balloons and try to detox and detox from nitrogen so I guess we'll be drinking hard alcohol he said it's Florida so you drink mixed drinks and we're laughing but maybe not cuz football's on so we have like an impromptu little circus stuff for the kids and we'll be watching the football game is a good idea

Bja

He's always wanted to have theme parties that do stuff and this would do something event planners want to work with us but we don't have much of an event we just all show up at the same time and he might have a vents later to sell this particular bike it's going to be awesome used lawn mower engines that's crazy

Trump

We can do that too take a picture of each one and package it and put it under a certain make and model and type and size and people can look at them this is what it's like we're going to certify them and throw them together so we need to send them out and we need to get going I'm going to try this stuff

Thor Freya

Meanwhile up in space the morlock is suffering and losing very badly you're saying if we had Harley-Davidson you guys could make it a contract and we can send out tons of them to you get your people going they're going to need it and now and they're looking around saying you're probably right

Thor Freya

There's some of them thinking that they can't get it together and they can't do it but we get there we start making them and our son and daughter say probably a lot of the sx 350 and 550 and they agree and tons of them so you buy them in lots. Are you going to buy them for transportation and they need to do stuff they're paying the ass

Olympus

[recapcrew]

Week 32 Transcript

Video

Intro

Extra extra, read all about it! Welcome to the Empire’s Recap, and today we will be going over the chaos and drama of our (somewhat) respected rulers!

This week the boys are back in town with news of progress to their empires!

Jimmy

This week Tiny Tim is still stuck in his Tiny Tim ways.

The Sheriff is offended that the Hermits up and left Empires and uses his disappointment to confront Sausage about his black market sales.

Jimmy gives Sausage two options; jail time or build a vacation home in Tumble Town. Obviously, Sausage chooses to build a vacation home as he believes the only part of jail time he could handle is the handcuffs.

Thus, Sausage sparks an obsession in Jimmy with vacation homes taking over Tumble Town where all the Empire's rulers can kick back their feet and take a rest in his empire.

Before this obsession goes too far, Jimmy does have progress in other areas of town, and he can prove it with his new water wheel and highly decorated area around Oli’s new tent. Tumble Town is definitely better for it.

After the new buildings are shown to all of Tumble Town, Jimmy advertises the remaining vacation homes that are still up for rent. This brings hope of a kind, generous ruler taking up the opportunity to put money into the Tumble Town economy. However, Joel shows up.

Usually, the god brings trouble but this time Joel genuinely wants to be roomies with Jimmy. The Sheriff seems content with this arrangement and leaves the idea with Joel - we’ll see the results of this soon, but hopefully nothing unable to be sewn back together.

Joel

Our 11ft tall god has returned, and he's back with a bang! Not literally, though, thank god.

In order to build his latest addition to the megapalace, he needs materials, so he sets off on the usual grind, with some... "borrowing" from the now abandoned Hermitopia along the way.

He also checks in on Hermes, who has returned upon a hot air balloon, along with an interesting question.

[JOEL, READING SIGN] Also, can you tell me where babies come from, I hear I’ve got siblings!

[JOEL] Ooo, that’s awkward, isn’t it. Hermes, you’re a bit young still to know where babies come from. It involves Jimmy and… dancing. You’ll understand in the future when you’re older. I’ll explain it in more detail, you don’t have to worry about that now, ok? Alright.

[JOEL, TO CAMERA] Good, because I will do a terrible job at explaining that – ANYWAY!

[NARRATOR] Joel adds the first part of the central section of the megapalace donut, adding towers and other decorative bits. Even with this expansion, there’s still plenty of room to build up, and down.

[JOEL] If you are wanting to build in the sky, the main advice that I have – ouch – is don’t! Don’t build in the sky! It’s dumb! And stupid! You have to build so much more, it’s stupid, its annoying, its hard. Don’t do it! Hope that helps.

[NARRATOR] Finally, he heads off to an untouched mesa to find some gold ore, challenging himself to acquire an entire stack of it each episode. No problem for the gold-ly builder.

Katherine

Princess Katherine is back and as colorful as ever! Finally her castle is being decorated, and we begin by first taking a tour of the rooms.

[KATHERINE] Next we have this room with—

[KATHERINE, TRAILING OFF] …broken windows, what happened! What?

[KATHERINE, GASPING] I don’t even have windows back here!

[NARRATOR] Once that issue is fixed, she heads to her shulkers, as she has some looting to do.

Now that those are all clear, she heads over to- Who let a sheep in the nether. Never fear sheep, for you shall be rescued and named Glimmer!

Finally she can get her looting on, digging underneath the glass that preserves Hermitopia. It seems as though she's a bit late to the party, however there are a few sheep heads. Why would you kill such precious animals?

Her haul is semi-successful, getting some quartz and glass, and so she begins to finally decorate the castle!

Lizzie

This reporter is in with news from… Animalia? It’s more likely than you think!

New villagers have come from far away with knowledge that no animalians know. Magical tombs used to make powerful weapons and tools for their fellow critter friends.

[LIZZIE] Truthfully, I kidnapped some baby villagers, turned them into librarians, and sprinkled them with my magical empires dust.

[NARRATOR] …Well some people can still dream! These villagers are going to inhabit the magical district, the new Animalia district with a crimson color theme.

After trying to get crimson wood in the Nether, Lizzie decided it’s best to grow it in the overworld, not realizing quite how messy it could look.

[LIZZIE] Joel help!

[JOEL] Hello.

[LIZZIE] Ah! It’s an emergency! I need a hoe!

[BIRDS CHIRPING NOISE}

[JOEL] You need a hoe? Okay, here’s a hoe.

[LIZZIE] Oh, thank you!

[NARRATOR] After some divine help, everything is back to normal and Lizzie can finally build her district.

After sprucing it up, she decides to light up the district with some questionable methods. Lights hanging in the air, and homes furnished, Lizzie then claims one of the homes as hers and gives us a tour of her three bookshops, soon to be filled with stories of the viewer.

An impromptu Oli and Sausage visit later, Lizzie makes all of Critter City parkour-able, leading to the first interspecies meeting in Critter City. Maybe more meetings like this could happen now that the districts are connected…

Outro

And with that, join us next week for more chaos and shenanigans! Thank you for watching, liking, and subscribing, and thanks to everyone helping with the project, check them all out below!

[shybunnie20]

Forgiveness - Eddie Munson x Female Reader - Part 2

Cheater!Eddie Munson x Fem!reader x Bff!Steve Harrington

★Part One ★My Masterlist

Fic Summary: Eddie has been gone for a week while playing a string of gigs with Corroded Coffin. You beg Steve to take you to surprise Eddie, but you end up seeing something you wish you hadn't.

Author's Note: I hope you like this fluffy ending! Be sure to reblog, follow, and show some love if you enjoyed it. It’s incredibly validating after all of the hours I put into it. ♡

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: description of depression, alcohol/substance abuse, insomnia. Includes swearing.

tags: @protecteddiemunson4vr

After that night, it became difficult to care for yourself. There were days when you couldn’t muster up the motivation to brush your teeth or shower, as much as you hate to admit it. Steve stayed with you for a few nights. He brought over movies from work to help take your mind off things. He’s always had a habit of hogging the popcorn but this time around he was generous enough to share. It was fun to have sleepovers like you used to. Whenever he’d leave, he made you promise that you’d pick up when he calls to check on you. He called during every one of his shifts.

Unfortunately, evenings remained troubling. Tossing and turning from insomnia that disrupted your need to rest. When you’d finally dozed off, all you could dream about was Eddie kissing girls who weren’t you. Sleep no longer acted as the escape that you coveted.

Eddie hasn’t been doing so well himself. His ability to fall asleep had left him that night. Initially, he was relying on smoking weed to dull the misery but it stopped working. Consequentially resorting to the combination of drinking and smoking. It was the only way to dampen the loudness of the shame that continued to echo inside his skull. Upon waking, he felt more hungover from your silence than from the overconsumption of substances.

In a couple of weeks, you’ve managed to do a fair amount of healing. It feels good to spend time on yourself, focusing on your confidence and overall outlook on life. Journaling has been a much-needed outlet. Truthfully, you feel guilty bothering Steve with your bitter thoughts all the time. You’re far more resilient than you give yourself credit for, that’s why he calls you his warrior.

In his trailer, Eddie sits on the couch. Manspreading in blue and black plaid boxers while watching TV. He jolts, startled by the phone ringing. “Son of a bitch.” He huffs as he goes to answer, expecting a call from Dustin. “Talk to me, chief.”

“Hi.” You say shyly.

Eddie swallows hard, his colorless knuckles gripping the phone tightly. “Hey! Hey, you.” He bites down on the thumbnail of his free hand. Overall he’s thrilled that you called. With how much time has passed, he was starting to think you decided to leave him behind.

“I’m ready.”

“Okay, when… when can I see you? 

Your end of the line hums with your lack of response. Dumb question.

He continues, “How’s our spot sound? I could pick you up-”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“Oh, uh-okay. Well, how's tonight, 7:30?”

“See you then.” You hang up.

Eddie clutches the handset to his sternum, continuing to gnaw his nail to a nub. “Holy fucking shit, I might have a chance.” He says to himself, feeling giddy and anxious.

You’re perched on the top of a picnic table, picking fuzz off of your knit sweater while you wait for him to show. From the anticipation, your gut twists into a balloon animal and it makes you feel like you’re going to be sick.

His Chevy van swings into the lot at an alarming speed but parks rather slowly. He takes a deep breath before hopping out. “Hey, beautiful.” He beams with a hopeful smile.

You don’t greet him back, eyes fixated on the dry grass below. The pet name bounces off of you like there’s a forcefield to protect you from bullshit.

A comfortless silence hangs in the air, compelling him to grasp at the woven blanket that’s tucked under his arm. You stand up and briskly walk onto the trail that leads to the lake. Eddie nearly trips over his own feet as he hustles to catch up.

Eddie lays the blanket on the grass and smoothes it out. He offers you his hand. You hesitate before using it to steady yourself while crouching to sit down.

The point of contact makes his heart leap in his chest like he's been resuscitated. He wipes his clammy palms onto his shirt before settling beside you. In the absence of conversation, Eddie mentally rehearses all of the things he’d written down with the intention of saying to you.

A subtle breeze causes the branches of the surrounding velvet green woods to rattle. Lover’s Lake sparkles with the waning daylight that paints the heavens pink and blue.

While admiring the landscape, memories start to roll like film. This spot became special the night of your first date together; splashing and playing in the moonlit waters. The moment he captured and held your half-naked body against his, he knew he was a goner. You felt the same when he looked at you in a way that no one ever had before. From thereon, the stars in his eyes only shined for you.

The corner of your mouth lifts slightly, almost forming a grin. “God, I love cotton candy skies. Don’t you?”

Your voice steals his train of thought. “Yeah, for sure. Sunsets are pretty.” You’re prettier, he thinks.

For the first time in weeks, you look at him. It feels like the circulation in his body slows, causing his limbs to be plagued with static.

Eddie’s chocolate-covered irises dart to your lips. Intoxicated by your presence and the familiarity of your scent. “I missed you.” He blurts out.

You quickly look away, sending your attention to the wet rocks that line the shore a couple of feet away. All of sudden you’re not feeling ready anymore. Vulnerability leans over your shoulder as Eddie opens up to you.

“I understand that my words don’t hold weight, but I wanna start off by saying that I’m sorry. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life and out of all of ‘em, I regret hurting you the most. That kiss and that chick meant nothing. It shouldn’t have happened.”

You nod to indicate that you’re listening. Not taking your eyes off of the rocks, you let out a sharp exhale. “I used to think of you as someone who would never hurt me. Sorry means nothing when that trust is violated.”

“I know, baby. I took you for granted.”

You bow your head. “I wanted to be the one you’d choose when everyone else wanted you. But I wasn’t.” Suddenly, breathing feels like a complex process that you have to consciously execute.

“Sweetheart, I chose you and I’m never changing my mind.” Eddie reaches for your hand and takes it into his. Holding it with care as if you’re made of porcelain. “You make me feel things that I never knew I could. Please, I’ll do whatever you want. I wanna earn your trust back.”

“Eddie…”

“Before we met I didn’t wanna fall in love. Hell, I didn’t even know what it would be like. Then you came into my life and I started wanting everything, and I wanted it with you.” With his other hand, he guides your chin for you to meet his gaze. “I still want it with you, only you.”

A tear rolls down your cheek. His hand then caresses your face, wiping the tear away with his thumb. His breathing halts before he takes the leap. “I love you.”

Eddie always felt like your eyes have a language of their own. Right now, they’re conveying that those three words aren’t enough. He presses on, “I messed up big time.” His thumb strokes your cheek where the tear had fallen, keeping the rest at bay. “I get that forgiving doesn’t mean forgetting.”

You’d shown up this evening without certainty of whether you could forgive him. The sincerity in his voice shook the grudge you were holding. Eddie means it, he loves you. He did something wrong but that doesn’t undo all of the things he did right.

An ache drills into you when the warmth of his hands leaves your skin as he shifts to dig in his front pocket. Underneath the relentless loathing, you hadn’t realized how much you craved his touch.

Eddie places an item into your palm, his own hands trembling ever so slightly. “I want you to have this.”

You immediately recognize the necklace in your hand. You’ve never seen him without it. “Your favorite pick? Eddie, I can’t accept this.”

He insists. “Look.” He flips the guitar pick over, revealing that he carved “EM” into it with his pocket knife. Before you could object once more, he unclasps the chain and leans forward to place it around your neck.

The glowing smile on your face gives the sun a run for its money. After securing the clasp, Eddie guides the pick onto your heaving chest. The unetched side faces outward so that his initials lay against your heart. His eyes travel up your neck to your face, relieved to see you looking so radiant in his treasured accessory. 

Your smile dares him to kiss you. It would be cruel not to. You share a brief exchange of glances before your lips eagerly meet his halfway. It catches him by surprise, causing him to let out a low-pitched groan as his hands make themselves at home on your waist. He doesn’t have to hear the words. In the tenderness of your kiss, he knows all is forgiven.

★Part One ★My Masterlist

★Ko-fi ♡

[liyuesbian]

✧ 101 dalmatians!au [ayaka]

notes: ........this is actually an updated (not rly) version of my 101 dalmatians!au with seulgi on my kpop gg writing blog..... sorryyyy i'm not being lazy i promise!! i've just got back from holiday and am working on a ningguang x reader but it might take a while (i rly wanna perfect it) so this is a placeholder for now :p

you would occasionally spot kamisato ayaka in the park walking her dalmatian. she's well-known around the local area because of her older brother: the mayor of the city. in fact, you also have a dog of the same breed, which is what drew you to her in the first place—minus her eye-catchingly extravagant outfits and cute facial features.

your own dalmatian is wonderful. when you were ten years old, your christmas wish was to get a puppy. much to your younger self’s disappointment, santa claus had gifted you with a rather large—and older—"puppy" than you had imagined in your head. nevertheless, you treated the newly named pongo with as much love as you could give him.

fast forward about ten years later and here is the same pongo eagerly trying to gain your attention as you sit in front of your piano. you’re thinking of how best to go about composing the last few bars of a song you’re working on.

unbeknownst to you, the dalmatian had sneakily altered the time of the clock and is now motioning to the door, howling. you double-check the time on your wristwatch but despite the inconsistency, you decide to go for the daily walk and attach a leash to his collar. it seems like you have no other choice: pongo has your hat between his teeth and is scratching at the door handle. you laugh as you give in to your dog’s contagious enthusiasm, taking your fedora from his mouth.

with the leash in one hand and a ball in the other, you are manhandled—or should i say doghandled—as pongo drags you all the way to the park. he appears to be looking for something, but you dismiss it. you attempt to undo the clasp of the leash, failing when pongo suddenly dashes off.

“slow down, pongo!” you yelp. this kind of high-energy behaviour isn’t new to you but it certainly catches you off-guard. in the end, you let your dog indulge himself in his antics and you’re led to the edge of the lake where you take a seat and gasp for breath. goodness, you don’t think you’ve ever done so much running in your life.

exhausted, you fan yourself with your fedora and loosen the top button on your dress shirt. the grass underneath you feels nice to rest on compared to the wooden chair you’d been sitting on for the whole morning.

it takes you a second to notice your companion gazing at a certain animal behind you. turning around, you recognise the dalmatian who’s seized pongo’s eyes from her pink collar and apprehensively look up to the owner. she’s perched on a bench next to the dog with her signature fan and a book in her hands. in shock, you jerk your head forward and blink a few times.

should we move somewhere else?

as if sensing your uneasiness, pongo barks and jumps to grab your hat. you sigh but grin at his mischievous face.

“come on, pongo. give it back.” taking her eyes off the pages of her book, ayaka glances at you and your dog, the ends of her mouth curving up ever so slightly to form a smile which stays hidden behind the upright fan. you throw the ball lightly in an attempt to get him to drop your hat.

it doesn't quite work and instead, rolls in the direction of the occupied bench. perdita, ayaka's dalmatian, glimpses at it, trying to withhold the urge to play with the bouncy toy. ayaka chuckles which causes you to cease your glaring at pongo to face her. the ringing of her laugh is pleasant and something you haven’t noticed before.

if only i could hear it every day. gently, you hit your cheeks to awaken yourself from your thoughts.

pongo is now frolicking in circles with the captured hat, vying for the attention of ayaka's dog. while you’re battling a two-way argument in your head and one with your dalmatian, you feel a soft nudge on your thigh. perdita has given you the ball back, and you could hear pongo whimpering sadly. impressed, you pet perdita who reacts with a delightful pant. the female dalmatian glances at pongo and apathetically walks back to her owner, who attaches a leash. they start to walk away.

pongo yaps in surprise. quickly, he abandons your hat and is about to take off when you tell him to stay, which he does obediently. you could tell your dog is planning to go after perdita, but you don’t want him running around aimlessly so you fasten his leash.

as soon as you do though, you’re being hauled once again towards kamisato ayaka. the hyperactive dalmatian follows the blue-haired woman and playfully circles her, earning a giggle from the subject of interest. unfortunately for the both of you, your legs have gotten tied to hers.

“oh my, i'm very sorry about this!” you blush. of course, you’ve never been in such close quarters with her before making it all the more embarrassing but you don’t entirely regret this moment either… until you realise that with the both of you frantically trying to get out of the awkward position and your dog pulling at the leash, the result would be all three of you tethering on the edge of the lake and perdita helplessly grabbing onto her owner to prevent the fall.

“oh no.” a splash is heard throughout the park.

clothes damp, you sit in the shallow water in cold shock, finding yourself no longer tangled around the dog leash. next to you, ayaka stands up to try searching for her hat and fan which pongo finds and gives to you with an almost apologetic expression.

“it seems i've lost my belongings,” she says worriedly.

“don’t worry, i have the things you're looking for right here.” you hand her her possessions and fix her hair but to no avail.

“ah, thank you.” you brush her wet bangs to the side so she could see.

“i'm truly very sorry! i don’t know how we ended up in the lake of all things.” you apologise profusely to the bewildered lady and attempt to make things better by removing the plants from her clothes. meanwhile, pongo has shaken himself dry and is relaxing next to perdita.

gosh, what kind of situation have i gotten myself into?

“no, it’s alright, i'll just dry myself off for now.” you see ayaka fetching a… soaked handkerchief from her purse.

“hold on, i usually carry one in my pocket.” however, yours too, is also drenched. “oh—"

ayaka begins to giggle. dumbfounded, you laugh with her. both of your dogs glance at each other and back at the pair of you, cocking their heads. you thought the pleasant sound and amicable smile were the only things about her laughter that could make your heart swell but now, with ayaka right in front of you, you notice things you would’ve never been able to before. you witness how her eyes crinkle and close shut and how her cheeks balloon revealing an even more charming side to her. you wonder what it would be like if you could make her this happy all the time.

after helping ayaka out of the pond, you feel it wouldn’t be right to leave her to go home all doused in water.

“would it be possible to invite you to our house? we live close by so it would be no trouble at all if you want to dry off there. it would probably be very uncomfortable to journey home in this state and i can't bear to watch you attempt to.” shyly, you meet her eyes after your impromptu offer to see ayaka grinning.

“i think i'd like to accept that offer. i suppose it is your fault too!” she quips and jokingly nudges your shoulder.

you smile back and turn to face your dalmatian who you will whisper many thank yous to later in life.

[dtyfp]

Mark Lee, Menace to Society

Nabi masterlist

"I think it was down this hall," you tell Rosé and Lisa as the three of you wander around backstage of one of those end-of-year award shows. Currently, you were trying to find your dressing room and were very, very lost. Somewhere along the way you had lost Jisoo and Jennie.

You jog ahead, trying to peek around the corner, completely distracted when someone yells "boo".

You scream, so loud and high pitched that glass could break, and scream even higher when someone in a clown mask pops out. Lisa doesn't think you've ever been this loud before. As if the situation couldn't get even better, as you stumbled back you bumped into someone and instantly fell to your knees.

"Stop, stop, stop," you plead as a hand clamps over your beating heart. Your other hand slaps itself over your mouth and wonder if you just had an actual heart attack until a burst of familiar contagious laughter fills the air.

When you open your shut eyes, the man in the clown mask has fallen to his knees in front of you as he laughs, and above him, Jisung stands like a fish out of water as he looks down at you. The person you hit looks to be Jaehyun, who was, unfortunately, leaving his room with a couple of friends at the same time you walked by. He, too, looks shocked as he tries to decipher what just happened. Rosé and Lisa both looked spooked as well, clinging to each other, eyes wide as they look down at you.

You reach forward and take off the mask, and find who you suspected. Your cousin.

"Mark, what's wrong with you?" You sigh as you sink down and toss the mask aside. He can't stop his laughter, some other people poke their heads out to see the commotion but quickly retreat back in when they realize it's nothing but a good old practical joke.

"Noona, I am so sorry. Mark told me Haechan was coming," Jisung apologizes immediately, bowing a perfect 90 degrees, looking as if he might throw up from the guilt.

"It's okay Jisung, don't worry about it," you wave your hand dismissively. Jisung, the poor boy, looks like a deer in headlights as he silently retreats back into the dressing room. Mark manages to get on his knees and pull you into a hug, his laughter not ending as you rub the back of your thigh where you hit something.

You immediately reach over and thwack his forehead. It was a trick you've been pulling out since you were kids but it seemed to surprise him every time.

"Did you just thwack me?" He asks incredulously as a hand raises to rub his forehead.

"You know I'm scared of clowns," you bicker, the two of you switching back to your native English. The two of you spoke so fast that it even spun the heads of English speakers around.

"You've been scared of clowns since we were 7-"

"That clown was a menace to society, just like you are."

"It made us balloon animals and sang us happy birthday!"

"It chased me for 15 minutes and I spent our party with my dad," you remind him. Clearly, the two of you remembered your seventh birthday very differently.

"You can't just thwack me, I'm older than you-"

"By 2 minutes, that barely counts-"

"Merry early Christmas, Nabi, this was my Christmas present to you, and don't worry about getting me anything, this was more than enough," he grins smugly, calming the growing tensions in an instant. He always knew how to wiggle out of trouble, and even though you knew what he was doing, it worked.

"I'm so glad you had your fun, Mork," you sneer sarcastically, using the old nickname you haven't used in years. He hated it which is why you used it, but as Mark does, he forced himself to like it so it lost effect.

"Thanks, I think I almost peed!" He says almost proudly. You can't help but laugh at that confession as you shove him back. Despite the jokes, you know better than anyone that Mark never meant to be cruel, and has only ever wanted to put smiles on people's faces. And, he's made it his personal mission to pull you out of your comfort zone a bit, claiming he wanted you to have more fun. How could you hold a grudge against that?

"Ah, would you look at that everyone. Nabi Lee is capable of taking a joke," he announces to everyone as he picks himself up and offers you a hand. You stand and dust yourself up, the pain behind your thigh fading but surely leaving a bruise.

"Hey, Hyung, you came out at the perfect time," Mark grins as he holds his hand up for Jaehyun to high-five.

"I had no idea what he was about to do," Jaehyun tells you, not even bothering with Mark's hand still in the air. In an effort to not leave your cousin hanging, a promise you made him when you were 9, you slap your palm against his.

"It's okay, Mark's little schemes always seem to have a way of working out," you shrug.

"Oh, Lisa, you're here?" BamBam grins as he comes out from behind Lisa to pull his childhood friend into a hug.

"Oh, I think that's my cue. Give me a couple of seconds, I'll be right out," Mark tells you as he glances down at his phone. You had been so concerned with not dying that you had hadn't even noticed the phone he was holding and recording with.

Before you grab his phone, he holds it above his head.

"You know this is a declaration of war, right?" You ask him as you cross your arms.

"The same declaration you made against me when we were 10 and you never followed up on? Or a different one?" He wonders out loud. He holds his hand out and you can't help but do the same. The two of you had a handshake, made it when you were 5, and have since expanded on it. It was a Lee thing, Mark declared, it was supposedly vital to his survival or some over-dramatization like that.

"Bye Nabi," he sings as he wanders back to his dressing room.

"You know, I could help you pull one over Mark later," Jaehyun offers as he looks down at you.

"I might take you up on that offer," you hum.

"Jaehyun, are you coming?"

You glance down the hall and finally recognize the same group amassed as the infamous '97 line group chat, plus the Blackpink girls obviously.

"Nabi, they invited us to go out with them, you in?" Rosé asks as she pulls her coat on. You suppose you weren't going to your dressing room anymore.

"Oh, Mark and I are going out for dinner. Maybe next time?" You suggest apologetically.

"Next time. Do you need money?" Rosé questions.

"No, I'll make Mark pay for me, don't worry about it. I'll see you back at the dorms?" You ask as Mark bounces out again. Both girls nod and you say your final goodbyes to the others before jogging over to Mark, who hands you an extra jacket.

"I want ramyeon, so let's go to our regular place?" Mark suggests.

"Since you're paying, I'll let you pick. Didn't you invite Lily to come with us?" you ask your brother. Lily Bae seemed cool, no, she was cool, she was basically a legend in the making. Mark was constantly singing her praises and you were a little desperate to meet the other ‘twin’ in his life. You tried talking to her a couple of times but she was always with her members. You kept bugging Mark to introduce his work twin and real twin, but the timing never matched up.

"Taeyong and Doyoung already took her out for her birthday, you'll meet her another time. Have you called mom back?"

[astriefer]

If you want to, how about prompt 36 with thomastair?? 🤍

Prompt 36 - "Don't move. it'll be okay."

Thank you for this ask!! This is so terribly late but I hope it's enough for you. This is really bad because I had inspiration and then it died and then assignments and family and I'm running late. But... just in time for holiday! So have this piece please 🙏 Didn't check it too much so sorry for type errors and such thank you

TW throwing up and illness.

When the Merry Thieves had gotten the message Thomas wouldn't join them that day, they were suspicious.

"It's not Thomas's handwriting," Matthew said thoughtfully to James and Christopher.

Christopher fixed his spectacles on his nose and took a glance at the parchment. "But who wrote it if not Thomas?"

As always, the group of Thieves (lacking Thomas) was hanging around the Herondale manor. Cordelia and Lucie had gone to train together, and Effie was busy preparing titbits and coffee for them. They waited for Thomas to approach in all his giant glory, half-predicted him to come with Christopher, but he did not arrive. After half an hour, and just as Matthew complained, "Had Thomas gotten himself kidnapped in the course of the night?" a runner came at the front door. The message he carried was what they had been looking at for the past few minutes.

James shrugged. "Alastair, I assume," his golden eyes scanned the carefully written words. "They do live together."

"It claims him to be feeling unwell," Matthew said. "Do you think it's because he finally realized what a nuisance Alastair is?"

James gave him a look. "Matthew."

"It's in good spirits!" Matthew defended, raising his hands. When James still looked at him pointedly, he lowered his hands and murmured. "To some extent."

James sighed. As long as he didn't say it in front of Thomas, Cordelia, or Alastair himself, he concluded it wasn't the worst thing. They were civil with each other's presence, which was progress. He couldn't be mad at Matthew anyhow. He placed the paper down, regarded his friend with a shrug.

"What ho," Christopher said. "Your definitions for good spirits may cross the traditional ones."   

"Well, it's not my fault the ordinary interpretations are substantially dull," Matthew retorted.

Christopher hummed and stopped paying attention, seemingly engrossed in a new idea of an invention that must have captured his mind. Matthew gave him a fond smile and then cut his gaze back to James. "So, are we going?"

"Where?" James asked as Matthew stood up. His parabatai straightened his double-breasted waistcoat, which had decorations of an exotic animal on it.

He must have looked dumbfounded because Matthew added kindly, "Oh, Jamie bach," Matthew clicked his tongue at him. "Can you truly believe Thomas is sick?"

"That's what written here," he tapped on the papyrus. Matthew clicked his tongue again. His eyes were shining dangerously. "I know that look. What ill thing your mind hallucinated this time?"

"Everything I think of is a masterpiece, mind you. And clearly," Matthew said, leaning forward in his seat, "He scribbled some poor excuse to spend time with Alastair. But he said he would come. And if he won't come to us, we will come to him. So we shall step up to their flat and demand our Thomas."

"It doesn't sound like Thomas to fake such a thing." James's eye deterred away to the clock on the wall. He had the idea if it was something else, not a possibility of Thomas favoring Alastair's company over theirs, it would die silently. 

"It sounds a bit petty," Christopher noted. His hands tapped on the floor, fingers twisting as if he desired to be in Henry's lab and write down his findings.  

"It's not," Matthew promised. "We needn't have a reason to see Thomas. Besides, don't you want to tell him about your latest experiment?"

Christopher's eyes lit up at that. He shoved his spectacles up his nose, nodding. "Yes, it would be good. I made some progress he should be filled in about."

"Great!" Matthew commented. "Let's go."

"Poor Kit," James teased as he got up. "You use science to tempt him?" 

"I have no clue what you are talking about," Matthew graced him with a brilliant smile."I merely harness the power of science for my good deeds."

~~~~

As it turned out, unwell was an underestimate.

"What are you doing here?" Alastair asked when he opened the door of the flat. James was a bit stunned to see how disheveled and bedraggled he looked, a stark contrast to his usual display. His clothes were rumpled and crumpled and he looked awfully gassed.

The three soon cut free of their astonishment, and Christopher talked first. "Hullo, Alastair. We have come to see Thomas."

Alastair blinked but otherwise remained still. "I delivered you a message. He isn't feeling well."

"We had an essential piece of enlightenment to share with him," Matthew supplied. Alastair gave him an indifferent look.

"He isn't feeling well," Alastair repeated. James started to think it was a bad idea to come - Alastair clearly wasn't fancy to usher them inside. From inside the flat, a smell of soup traveled in the air.

Matthew's green eyes faced Alastair's unabashedly. "Why, let us see him, then. There's nothing our engaging presence can't aid. Tom will be feeling much better if he sees us."

"He needs to rest, not play games with his friends-"

A broad-shouldered figure came behind him, towering over him. " 'm fine."

Matthew wasn't the only one with a twisted interpretation of rudimentary words, apparently. James was fairly sure 'fine' shouldn't mean being so pale or to have big bruises-like black shadows under your eyes; nor did he think someone feeling fine should be looking so lightheaded and sick. Thomas's moss of light brown hair was mussed and tousled. He looked, frankly, even worse than Alastair - sweaty and tapped up.

"Thomas?" James asked.

The tall man shifted his gaze to James rather slowly. Instantaneously he realized Thomas was leaning his hand against the wall for support, and not for the sake of doing it. He was unsteady. "Greetings. I was going to get ready and come by your house, James."

"You should be in bed," Alastair protested.

Thoams's stance was defensive. "I am plenty fine, thank you, I don't need any rest in bed."

A muted sigh escaped Alastair's lips. He glanced at the three of them. "May you put some reason into him? You could at least do that after turning up here."

"I am standing right here," Thomas pointed out. He sounded almost too drained-out to resist. Alastair seemed unimpressed.

Christopher hesitated. "You do look a bit green around the gills, Tom."

"You look liverish, and not in a neat way," Matthew added.

"You have no need to dot on me," Thomas insisted. Annoyance took over his features. "I have rested enough. I shall-"

He cut off abruptly, gagging. He turned over back into the apartment, a hand over his stomach, and ran inside.  With a last skeptical glance thrown toward them, Alastair charged after Thomas.

James stood in front of the front door, bewildered, till Matthew passed him and flung the door open for them to enter.

Christopher followed with no protest. "What?" Matthew asked when James shot him a dark look. "They left the door open, thus I regard it as an invitation to permit ourselves inside."

With that philosophy in mind, they passed the corridor into the parlor. Accompany to the horrible sound of vomiting - James guessed it was Thomas's part - they could catch a low, soothing murmur of calming words. Alastair.

"You were wrong," Christopher said as he turned to Matthew. His voice was not self-righteous whatsoever, just matter-of-factly and troubled. "He is feeling ill."

Matthew seemed abashed, just slightly. "I wouldn't have been aghast if told he wanted to spend time with his lover."

They settled themselves nervously on the Aegean-blue sofa.  As a few minutes passed -  slow, confused, and worried - the sound of retching had finally petered out. They heard the noise of the water goes down the toilet.

"You think we should check whether they are fine?" Christopher asked.

"He honked up all he ate for breakfast. He must need to collect himself, and we should let him - unless you think he can somehow drown himself in the seek of the toilet." Matthew pondered over the last part amusingly.

Christopher seemed satisfied with the answer, and he cut his gaze back to the corridor through Thomas and Alastair had disappeared.

When he finally came back into the parlor, he limply made his way to the sofa, bearly holding himself straight. He hung his head low, sweat pooled on his neck and forehead and glimmered on his cheeks. His face reminded James of a red balloon, shiny and oddly red.

"Are you all right?" James inquired when he finally sat. Thomas made no sudden movements as he decisively faced them. It was clear as day Thomas, by all means, was not all right.

"Yes," he said. Matthew, James, and Christopher exchanged concerned looks between them. Alastair had not returned yet. "I must have eaten something spoiled."

"Are you sure?" Matthew pressed. "You still look dreadful."

"Surely I couldn't guess it," Thomas quipped.

"We can entertain you, though," Matthew pondered, giving him a smirk. "You stay in bed, and we will keep you a worthy company."

Thomas moved in his place, uncomfortable. Christopher, on the other way, smiled at Thomas. "Mam and Aunt Charlotte said I could use the lab tomorrow morning if there will be someone with me. The enclave has an important meeting early that day, and even Henry attends."

Thomas seemed grateful for the change of topic. Mattew said, "We might go and eavesdrop in case something interesting will come up."

"I will be there first thing tomorrow," Thomas avowed, although none of them asked him to. Thomas succumbs to a brutal coughing fit, and It was at that moment Alastair approached from the corridor.

"You need to rest," Alastair chided.

Thomas commnented hastily. "You are over-worried. I am fine."

"You're behaving frivolously," he proclaimed. "You ought to relax and rest, not to run around with your friend as if you are not sick."

"I'm just tired."

Alastair gave him an incredulous stare. "Really, you," he scolded wearily. "Utter madness, what that mouth of you blurts out." The dark-haired man turned over to the kitchen. Then he turned again. Alastair's dark gaze moved to the rest of the Merry Thieves. "You could at least bring a soup or medicine," he countered.

Matthew lifted his arms mockingly as if to surrender. "I am sorry, O great lord, that I didn't know how sick Thomas was. From your message, he could also have a slight headache."

Alastair scoffed and went into the kitchen. Mattew shot a look at Christopher and James, who nodded. he returned his eyes on Thomas.

"Hark, I, for once, agree with Carstairs. An advent I thought I would ever do. But I do think you should stay in bed."

"Shan't." Thomas regarded the idea of being treated by others with disdain. he rubbed his eyes, mumbling under his breath. "I am fine," he insisted. "I can hang out with you."

Alastair came back into the room, placing himself next to the sofa Thomas was resting on. He put down a large bowl. Haze of steams rose from the Broth. "Eat this. Then you go to bed."

Thomas's glare snitched up at him. He rubbed his eyes wearily.  "I am fine," he repeated. "I am already feeling better."

The look Alastair gave him made it clear he wasn't buying it. "Bed." Alastair crossed his hands on the chance and his gaze determined. "I am not supposed to teach you how to take care of yourself. So eat the soup and go to bed.

Thomas's grumpy mood seemed to worsen. He would've thrown hands if he hadn't felt so indisposed. "I can take care of myself."

"So don't be so stubborn and do as I say."

"It doesn't sound like taking care of oneself," Thomas grumbled. He coughed again into his forearm."And you're not my mother." 

"A very fine observation. No, I'm your partner," he gave Thomas a meaningful look. "So either you eat the soup or expect to get it shoved down your throat."

"That you very better not do."

Christopher looked at Thomas with concern. "You do not look good, Tom. You should rest."

Thomas sighed inconspicuously. It was tenuous confidence he held against them. "You too, kit?"

"As he should," Alastair sneered. He was losing patience. "Stop playing around, and drink your bloody soup."

Thomas grunted, his back straightening. He seemed dizzy and ready to tell Alastair off once again, before he gaped loudly. He must have felt queasy for he scrambled to his feet, fighting his nausea to make it to the bathroom. He almost knocked into a wall.

James glanced at Alastair, who had been mumbling grumpily under his breath, for a moment just watching his swaying partner with distaste. His dark hair flew as he followed him, for the second time since James and the other Marry Thieves arrived, to the bathroom. They followed their ailing friend and the scaling man dashing after him, then looked at each other. 

Christopher looked baffled, "Why would Tom resist so much to rest in bed?"

Matthew shrugged, furrowing his brows. "I can't fathom a reason for him to be that way," He cringed as the sounds of retching reverberated from the other room."He's supposed to be the reasonable one between us lot."

"Poor Tom," James said. "Maybe because he is so terribly ill he can't get hold of reality."

In the meantime, James investigated the furnishing of the drawing-room, which was unadorned. He drifted over to a colossal bookcase at the corner of the room, full of books in English, Persian, and Spanish (and some other languages he could not tell). He traced the spines of the books and glanced at his friends. Matthew was animatedly talking with Christopher, who tried to listen, even though it was clear to James that it was only half-hearted. He mused over browsing briefly at a shabby, worn copy of Hamlet when the noises from the other room finally stopped.

After a few minutes with no noises at all coming from the corridor, James stood up. "I will check on them," he told his friend, "Maybe Thomas passed out, or he is in distress."

Matthew and Christopher were up on their feet in the bare minimum of time. "We shall come as well."

"We won't fit there, all of us," James mentioned. Thomas would've felt better if they all would come and help take care of him, he was sure, but facts were facts. "Just let me see if he needs anything from us."

The other thrives reluctantly sat back on the sofa. In quiet, stealthy steps, he headed into the candle-lit corridor. He moved past some doors - their bedrooms, he assumed, or a library, perhaps. He stopped when he reached an open door, meaning to knock first to announce his presence, but it flew his mind when he poked his hand into the bathroom. He absentmindedly noted the porcelain clawfoot tub, the decorated primrose tiles, and the wallpaper - intricate floral trace and lines in moderate colors, which he pondered over who of the two men chose. There was also a high-level cistern toilet, Thomas leaning on its ream seat. A washbasin stood nearby, and Alastair was taking a flannel and dipping it in water before he handed it to Thomas. The unpleasant smell of vomit still stung the air.

Thomas's laid with his half-lidded eyes cracked a bit more open, still regaining his breath, and took the flannel. He managed to wash his face as Alastair took care to clean any mess created. Then he knelt in front of Thomas. Thomas pulled Alastair close weakly, buried his face in Alastair's chest. James could hear he was breathing deep and long, trying to control his upset stomach. He moved very little, very carefully, trying to shield his eyes from the light that shone in the room.

"Tom," Alastair said, surprisingly gently, unlike before. Suddenly James felt he was invading their privacy. "Hold on and cease for once in your life. You need to rest."

Thomas did not move nor talked, and James had the idea he fought back another gagging.

"Hamsar-am," Alastair tried again after Thomas seemed to curb the urge to regurgitate. "Why won't you rest?"

His friend talked tentatively and out of breath, his voice dry and hoarse and quivering. "I don't want everyone to chip around me like I'm some sickly fledgling. If my parents knew, they might even make a silent brother come. Being like this - reminds me of times I was sickly and small and weak. But I am a shadow hunter. I am an adult. I am sick of people thinking I'm incapable of taking care of myself."

James studied Alastair's face. To his grand surprise, he saw his face softens. Tenderly, he pressed their forehead together. "I am more than confidant you can take care of yourself, Thomas. I just try to assist and make you more comfortable, but we go nowhere if you fight me on every single decision. Drinking soup and resting in bed is something all people do. It helps you to get better."

Thomas's eyes were unfocused. "Sorry."

James wasn't certain to what of it all Thomas was sorry for, but Alastair seemed to accept it. He sighed breathly, backing away from Thomas. "It's fine. Just let yourself rest, shall you? I still have a desire to -" he cut off when his eyes captured James, who leaned on the doorframe. "James."

James bolted straight and made sure his countenance revealed nothing as if he did not hear the conversation between the couple. "We will take out leave, see as you go and rest, Tom. We will come to check on you tomorrow."

Someone came behind him, and he found Christopher and Matthew looking into the bathroom. "We will tell Aunt Sophie and Uncle Gideon you are sick," Matthew intervened. "They can bring you some food and take care of you. Lucie will be glad to tell of the last mischiefs of The Beautiful Cordelia. Speaking of which, Lucie will tell her parents, and they will rush to make Brother Zachariah come to visit them-"

"We can also keep quiet," James offered. Thomas's words echoed in his head. He looked at Alastair. "I suppose Alastair can be enough of caretaker. But do tell us if you need anything. Alright, Tom?"

Alastair gave him an odd look, almost appreciation - but not precisely - on Thomas's behalf. The latter had only nodded his thanks and seemed relieved by James's offer.

"Recover quickly," Christopher said, his spectacles reflecting the light. Behind of them was a pair of caring eyes."There is just so much we Thieves can do without our heart."

~~~~

The Merry Thieves bid their goodbye and Alastair went to accompany them out, while Thomas made his way to their bedroom.

They had two bedrooms, one for each of them, despite they spent the nights together. He chose to go to Alastair's room, where his smell was strong and comforting. His steps were fatigue, his mind racing and hammering. The sunlight felt like a blow to his face, making his stomach perilously twist and turn. He wasn't sure he had left any contents to honk up. He was iffy and aching, couldn't find the power to shut the curtains close. Alastair's bed - wide enough for the both of them - was too compelling to resist. He grunted loudly, resting his head on the soft pillows. He felt cold. So cold.

What fought the place of the ill-feeling that settled in every bone of his body was his great dismay from being ill in the first place. Every time he got cold, his parents would worry themselves out as if he still was the sickly child from his childhood days. His friends will all dot on him, Alastair would lay him out for days, everyone will tell him he must rest to heal. And he despised it. He despised it with all his might. Like a rope tightening around his neck, like an invisible cage surrounding him. A cage made of love and care was still a cage, in his mind. Thomas did not like to be incarcerated. This creeping feeling of losing your independence frightened him, reminded him of times he was bedridden, out of necessity for his frequent ill-health.

Thomas didn't notice his eyes were shut until he tilted his head toward a noise - Alastair coming into the room. Thomas heard the door creak quietly, heralding Alastair's presence, and again as he closed it quietly. He felt rather than saw the quilt placed over him, hugging his body, giving a little warmth to the cool world he was in. Not warm enough, however.

"You're lucky you're my favorite," The well-known voice of Alastair mumbled.

They've butted heads around this the whole morning. Thomas refused to stick to bid despite Alastair's stubborn protests. Now, he felt his body turn to halves and his head throbbed as if the Angels gathered and made a party there. He hated Alastair to see him this weak, yet he hated it more to see the pain in his eyes because of his refusals. Thomas stirred in his place, every movement of his head making a new wave of headache hit him. "Stay." He reached his hand and tugged weakly at the fabric of the sleeveshirt of, not truly commending as asking.

"I will. Wait a moment." Thomas's grip went loose and with that, the half-Persian man disappeared again. He shifted, despite his throbbing head, so he could leave some place for Alastair to lay next to him. He moved slowly and painfully, fighting on every inch he could force himself to move. He hearkened Alastair marching back into their bedroom.

 He tried to leave some space for Alastair. "Don't move," Alastair's tender voice cut through the void. "It'll be okay." Then a wet cloth softly landing against his forehead. 

Cold.

He shivered. He tried to whisper "cold" but he felt no energy left in his body to protest. His eyes were heavy, his tongue even more so. "This is chiefly for your own good," Alastair comforted apologetically. "You are burning." He climbed to bed from the other side of the bed, slipping under the beddings and placing himself close to Thomas. It slipped from Thomas's mind beds had two sides.

Thomas's jumble of thoughts wandered freely anywhere and nowhere - he couldn't put enough effort into imagining, it just made the constant thumping in his head worse. A warm hand was tentatively wrapped around his chest. Alastair put effort into hugging him lightly as possible, offering the warmth Thomas was seeking. He tucked himself a bit closer to Thomas, pressed a soft kiss to his head, then sunk into the bed. The heat Alastair radiated was drugging, and the arm which rested on his chest felt more comforting than any other thing the world could offer. He tried to breathe but the feeling of bile rising in his throat made him stop.

Alastair must have noticed because he backed away from him. "I put a bucket down your side, in case you have any food to get rid of," he acknowledged.  His presence was calming and needed. Thomas wanted to apologize for being so stubborn, to tell him he appreciated him and what he did for him. When he tried, he could not force himself to speak up, his vocal cords exhausted, and he wanted nothing but to let his mind slip into nothingness. He could not. Thomas felt drowsy, the strings of sleep dragging him into a feverish slumber.

Alastair removed his arm and his weight abruptly shifted, and the cloth had been taken away from Thomas's forehead. He startled, fighting to open his eyes, and then it was back, cold and piercing, and Alastair returned his hand to hug him. He felt a soft graze against his cheek - Alastair's lips - that ignited fire where it touched, just like his arm, making it a little less freezing. They kept resting in an awful silence for a few more minutes. Thomas had no problem with silence - he even liked it. Yet, knowing Alastair was watching him, concerned, putting everything aside to take care of him, was unbearable for him. He was supposed to see his mother and sibling today. He was excited to see them. Thomas desperately wanted the stillness to evanesce.  

"Would you like me to read to you?"

Thomas couldn't quite realize how Alastair knew, but he hummed lowly in agreement. The weight beside him lifted, missed instantly before it came back with a small thump.

Alastair began to read. He desired to look at this chiseled face. When he tried to open his eyes, he found he couldn't. A blazing headache stroke him the moment he cracked them the tiniest bit. "Sorry for ruining today," Thomas sputtered. He didn't think he could force any other words to come up his throat.

"I'm here with you, my day can't be ruined. Even if you have a fever and acts like a stubborn fool." Alastair continued to read, Thomas felt himself being carried away to Lady Sleep, a cruel mistress, sometimes, and also a gentle one, if you approach her the right way. He felt himself falling into her arms, the voice of Alastair guiding him to a safe place in the realm of dreams.