"What is it?" I asked. "The prophecy?"
"I’m sure it’s fine," she said in a small voice.
"What was the last line?"
Then she did something that really surprised me. She blinked back tears and put out her arms. I stepped forward and hugged her. Butterflies started turning my stomach into a mosh pit.
___
percabeth x taylor swift & pencap-poetry
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i want to be a real boy, said the puppet to the fairy. i am too loud and too wooden. i cannot understand the softness of their skin.
when i lie, my nose grows. when i am lied to, nothing happens to them at all. they smile. their eyes shine, wet with salt-water. my wrists are bound with string, my ankles are threaded with wire.
when i open my mouth, out comes a scream, as a felled tree, bleeding sap. i've shattered the windows and bent the door.
i've broken my father's heart.
have i not given all i had within me to give? did i not shave myself hollow to offer a handful of wood chips and sawdust to anyone who would smile at me? my walls are thin, by now, and my voice is a haunting within my own head. when the sun is strong enough, it shines right through me.
as though i was made of glass, like the fine porcelain dolls in their fine silk dresses and their fine leather shoes. those chubby-red cheeks, polished to the noblest of shines.
smooth as aged pebbles, they do not hurt the palms that hold them unless dropped.
i have taken sandpaper to the high points of me. the rough, first, no matter how it hurt to hold it. no matter the mess. my father taught me well. i will not splinter if you touch me.
i will not lie. i will dance the dance, i will drink the drink, i will breathe only when i am told. i will sink this pining body into the sea. for my father, i will rot.
only make me soft. give me lungs and a beating, bleeding heart.
make me right, said the puppet to the fairy, make me whole.
silly little heartwood, said the fairy to the puppet, you are real. how else would you cry? there is nothing wrong with you.
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After Abel, Dante Émile // sportingnews // Cain, José Saramago (trans. Margaret Jull Costa) // Dave Sandford // Kin, Clan and Community in Proto-Indo-European Society, Birgit Anette Olsen // ESPN // Wikipedia // ESPN // Jeff Vinnick // Genesis, Valzhyna Mort // Puckprose // I Cast It Away, My Body, William Bearhart // Puckprose // Cain slaying Abel, Abraham Bloemaert (1590) // NHL // Clive Baker // Puckprose // NHL // Murder Ballad in the Land of Nod, Traci Brimhall // Freep // The Changes of Cain: Violence and the Lost Brother in Cain and Abel Literature, Ricardo J. Quinones // penticton western news // The Book of a Monastic Life, Rainer Maria Rilke (trans. Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy) // "A Brother Named Gethsemane", Natalie Diaz // NHL // NHL // Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan on 16 November 1581, Ilya Repin (1883-1885) NHL // Brothers, Dan Pagis (trans. Shirley Kaufman) // Fox News // NHL // NHL // Wikipedia // Fox News // NHL // Cain, José Saramago (trans. Margaret Jull Costa) // Allaboutthejersey // Allaboutthejersey // Jewish Literacy, Rabbi Joseph Telushkin
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I actually have tears in my eyes as I write this
what a race
all the chaos and dramatics aside of what happened during those 56 laps, one thing has stood out in perfect clarity
Lando. Fucking. Norris.
sprint pole, didn't rip himself to shreds over the sprint and shook it off to put in a fantastic qualifying, and then the race
started P4 and a great start, incredible tyre management for the first stint, extended onto a one stop strategy. LAPS. LED. a little unlucky with the VSC kicking in just as he drove past the pit but good job to the team getting him back out after a 2.1 second stop and into P3. some more safety car fun and staying out ahead of the second red bull
then that boy drove his socks off. to the end of the race, even losing a second during a wobble on the hairpin, extended his lead to Checo in a glorious display of talent. over 5 seconds by the end of the race
his second podium of the season, another P2 and DOTD
my driver
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Five years since the cathedral fire,
Renovations yet to be finished,
We fell to our own ruin.
Where I once made a wish for you
And cried as it came crumbling down,
I am now rebuilding on my own.
@nosebleedclub September 20th - French
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