#sr andrew

[scotianostra]

Happy St Andrews Day.

As part of our Patron Saint’s Feast Day the Scottish Saltire is proudly flown and many people add it to their posts on social media to celebrate the day, but how did Scotland adopt the saltire?

There is no actual date, or in fact nothing in our written history of the time, but legend has it that in AD 832 the king of the Picts, ‘Aengus MacFergus’, ( Anglified to Angus but some stories say Hungus) with the support of 'Scots’ from Dalriada, won a great battle against King Athelstane of the Northumbrians. The site of the legendary battle became known as Athelstaneford in present-day East Lothian.

St Andrew visited the Pictish leader in a dream before the battle and told him that victory would be won. When the battle itself was raging, a miraculous vision of the St Andrew’s Cross was seen shining in the sky, giving a boost to the morale and fighting spirit of his warriors. The result was a victory over the Saxons, and the death of Athelstan. Thus, after this victory, according to the tradition, the Saltire or St Andrew’s Cross became the flag of Scotland, and St Andrew the national patron saint.

While there is no written reference to the battle in Scotland from the period it was said to have taken place, this is not surprising, as it was a time for which we have little or no documentation for anything. The earliest written mention of the Battle of Athelstaneford in Scottish history comes from years later in the newspapers of the day, if you follow my posts then you know I dip into these “Chronicles from time to time, the first one to mention Athelstaneford is the Scotichronicon, written by the Scottish historian Walter Bower.

The Scotichronicon has been described by some Scottish historians as a valuable source of historical information, especially for the times that were recent to him or within his own memory. But he also wrote about earlier times, and this included the battle at Athelstaneford.

Bower’s account includes the scene where Aengus MacFergus is visited by St Andrew in a dream before the battle. He was told that the cross of Christ would be carried before him by an angel, there was no mention of a St Andrew’s Cross in the sky in this version. It was in later accounts, from the 16th centuries onwards, that we have the description of an image of St Andrew’s Cross shining in the sky

Bower was writing in the early 1400s. The bitter and bloody struggle to retain Scotland’s independence was not just a recent memory but also a current reality for him. Parts of Scotland were still occupied by England, and Bower had been involved in raising the money to release Scotland’s king, James I, from English captivity.

Also, Scotland’s early historical records and documents had been deliberately destroyed during the invasion by the English king Edward I. This was done in part as an attempt to remove historical evidence that Scotland had been an independent kingdom. The idea was simple: take away a nation’s history and you strip it of its identity and justification for its independent existence. The theft of the Stone of Destiny was part of this process, the Black Rood which was believed to contain a piece of the Cross Jesus was crucified on was also removed, I have covered both these in previous posts.

Part of Bower’s motivation in writing his Scotichronicon was to help restore this stolen history. He was a scholar and a man of the church. In his time, the figure of St Andrew had become a prominent presence in Scottish society.

The greatest church building in the land during his time was the Cathedral of St Andrew, which housed relics of St Andrew himself. It had taken over a hundred years to build and wasn’t formally consecrated until 1318, just four years after Bannockburn. The ceremony of course included Robert the Bruce and at it thanks was given to St Andrew for Scotland’s victory.

Less than 100 years after this, in 1413, the University of St Andrews was established and Walter Bower was one of its first students. By this time, the Cathedral of St Andrew was a place of pilgrimage, with thousands travelling there to venerate the saint’s relics. A pilgrimage route from the south took in the shrine of Our Lady at Whitekirk, not far from the site of the battle, and many pilgrims took a ferry across the Firth from North Berwick, where the ruins and remains of the old St Andrew’s Kirk can still be seen close to the Scottish Seabird Centre.

So as he sat down to write his history of earlier times, he was able to trace this connection to St Andrew, using the limited earlier written accounts, such as those of earlier Chronicler I’ve mentioned before, John Fordun, who lived in the 1300s. While Fordun doesn’t specifically mention the location of Athelstaneford, he records a battle which took place between the Picts led by Aengus and a force from the south led by Athelstan, and said the location of the battle was about two miles from Haddington. The account of St Andrew appearing in a dream to Aengus is also described by Fordun.

This creates a powerful link to the development of the written version of the story. Let’s remember Bower came from what is now East Lothian. Let us also remember that people in the early centuries stored and passed on much of their historical knowledge not in the written word but in memory and handed down oral traditions. People told stories, remembered them and told them to the next generation. Undeniably, some details would be forgotten or changed over time, but the bones of the story would be handed down. And that would include reference to locations of significant events in the local landscape.

Bower will have had access to this rich oral tradition of local stories based on handed-down collective memories of past events, which is perhaps why he was able to name the location. The later writers who added to the story of the battle will likewise have found new sources in the oral tradition to add to the narrative. Even in the 19th century, cartographers mapping the area were able to identify locations traditionally associated with the battle from local people who were custodians of ancestral memory.

This is how the story of the Battle of Athelstaneford and its connection with St Andrew and the Saltire has evolved.

The village is home to the National Flag Heritage Centre which occupies a lectern doocot built in 1583 and rebuilt in 1996. It is at the back of the village church. Today the village is surrounded by farmland and has little in the way of amenities. Tourists can follow the "Saltire Trail", a road route which passes by various local landmarks and places of historical interest.

Athelstaneford Parish Kirk has a connection with the subject of my post last week, author Nigel Tranter, who was a prominent supporter of the Scottish Flag Trust. He married in the church, and in April 2008 a permanent exhibition of his memorabilia was mounted in the north transept of the church. Items include a copy of Nigel Tranter's old typewriter, a collection of manuscripts and books, and other personal items. The display was previously at Lennoxlove House, and prior to that at Abbotsford House, the home of Sir Walter Scott.

[coolthingsguyslike]

[galvanisticinhuman]

bugs when you lift up a rock

[bbluesorrow]

guys how did andrew afford driving his gs?? like ok sure he gets tilda’s life insurance payment and buys the car but. what abt car insurance and vehicle tax and general upkeep and fuel and mot and services and replacing spare parts etc etc etc which’ll be even higher than normal for the gs since it’s a more high end car?? and a sports car at that don’t they use up fuel particularly fast? i’m just baffled as to how he was affording all that bc surely that’s not covered in his scholarship or whatever it was wymack offered him to play. literally have not been able to make sense of this and it’s bothering me so much

all i’ve managed is maybe he didn’t use all the life insurance on the car itself and kept some to pay for all the extras? lol i’m going insane

[rosehathawhey]

"So... The debt is paid."

FLOWERS IN THE ATTIC: THE ORIGIN (2022)

[bearyyayay]

" But you Tom, you could run this town someday "

Base and sketch :D

[numbugwritingblog]

Mirrored Tails (Chapter 1)

Index

---

21/01/2018

In a regular city, at a regular suburb, sitting at the corner of a crossing for two regular streets, sat a regular bakery, with two floors residing on top of the bakery. Residing up in the top floor was a family. A rather large family, consisting of a man, a woman, and their four children. All red foxes, of course.

The eldest son, freshly turned 18, was spurred awake by his phone’s alarm, sloppily shifting over in bed to turn it off. He slowly sat up, a stretch and a yawn overcoming him at the same time. Finally, he blinked away, slowly climbing out of bed.

-

Freshly showered and dressed, the fox was dressed in a white shirt and red pants, with red and yellow sneakers with raised soles. His shoes were matched by a red and yellow robe, seemingly picked from a wizard cosplay set as he walked around. He adjusted the glasses that rested atop his snout, reading the directions for each room as he passed by. He was the only one in the house that used them.

“Morning, Andrew!”

“Morning, Andrew!”

A pair of eerily identical young red fox boys yelled out in sync, 10 years old each and running through the hallway.

“Jonathan.” He mumbled out as he made his way down the stairs.

“You’re not fooling us, Andrew!” One of the kids called out.

“Jonathan woke up half an hour ago!” The other one finished seamlessly, before the two snickered at their coordination.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

Once he was down the stairs the scent of breakfast flooded his nose, and immediately he perked up. He almost overshot the door leading to the family dining room – but noticed the directions in time to double back. On the dining table, there was a Full Albitain (aka: Full English) sitting on the table, with a loaf’s worth of toast sitting to the side. And already at the table was his mother, his father (who, due to all of the kids taking after their mother, stood out like a sore thumb), and, well, a doppelganger of himself.

Jonathan glared at the doppelganger. “Andrew.”

The identical fox let out a small huff, hiding his nervousness. “Oh don’t get started this time, I’m Jon-”

“What’s the first 10 digits of Pi, then?” Jonathan waited patiently for an answer, as he knew it was all he needed.

‘Jonathan’ let out a nervous chuckle, looking to his parents. “Obviously it’s 3.141… 5… uh… 6…”

“Andrew, you’re grounded until the end of the day.” Was all their mother had to say.

His deception figured out, Andrew let out a heavy grunt. “But mooom…!”

“No buts!” Their father chipped in. “We’ve all told you to stop impersonating your brother plenty of times now, you should know. You can get changed into your clothes after breakfast.”

He grumbled, crossing his arms. “You let the twins get away with it…”

Jonathan took a seat on the dining table, picking up a plate and began gathering his favourite ingredients on, such as the eggs, sausages, and mushrooms, all with some toast. “It’s better you get caught now than at the party.”

His mother immediately chipped up at the mention of the party, smiling wide. “I’m so proud of you, Jonathan!” She smiled wide, passing over the tea pot for Jonathan. “Getting accepted into the Yaleford academy is no small task, it takes a clear understanding of-”

She was interrupted by the youngest twins barging into the room, the two of them dashing right onto the two remaining seats, immediately starting to eat without hestitation.

“Oscar! Junior! What did I say about running in the house?!” Germaine firmly reminded them, as he pointed at the kids one at a time.

“But I’m Oscar!” One of the twins called out, looking to his father with pleading eyes. The other twin put his hand on his chest, pretending he got shot in the heart.

He let out a sigh. “Right, right, of course… Junior! Oscar! What did I say about running in the house?”

“But I’m Oscar!” The other twin called out in protest, shortly followed by the both of them snickering.

Jonathan cleared his throat, holding up some of his toast. “I know what it takes to get accepted into the academy, mom. I just want to learn as best I can.” He just wanted to get past the chaos the twins always caused at this point.

His mother smiled warmly, momentarily forgetting about her two youngest. “Of course, dear, why you were just as inquisitive about it as I was at your age.”

His father smiled warmly. “Oh, that’s definitely the Victoria I remember meeting.” He leaned over and grabbed his wife’s hand.

Victoria smiled back, squeezing his hand in kind. “I never thought I’d be someone to sit around all day and cook before I met you, Germaine.” Staring into his eyes with a deep, passionate love.

“And you’re not,” he insisted, leaning over to kiss her hand. “Everyone cooks when they’re part of the Bakers, and they love every minute of it. Me, you, even the twins like it.”

“We don’t like you being so icky!” One of the twins called out.

“Yeah, now you got cooties!” They snickered once more, high-fiving each other.

Victoria rolled her eyes, her little romantic moment deflated by the kids. “Just eat up, I don’t want you four- er, you three late for school.”

“I’m done with school,” Andrew complained under his breath. “I’m ready for Yaleford academy, you know I am…”

“I don’t want to hear it. Now eat up!”

---

Jonathan worked his shift at his dad’s bakery, the two of them working in perfect sync up until the lunch period was over. When that was done, Jonathan took his apron (and fur nets… lots of fur nets…) up to hang, waving to his dad. “I’ll be back before sunset!”

Germaine blinked in confusion, looking up to Jonathan. “Back before- where are you going?!”

“It’s Friday, I always meet up with Arthur at the gym, remember?” Jonathan pulled out his bag, slinging it around his shoulder.

“Ah, right. Is your phone charged?”

“Yep!” He took his phone out from his bag, loading up the map app.

“Alright, have a good time then.”

Jonathan waved goodbye, walking out the front door of the family bakery. As he walked, he would frequently glance between his phone and the streets he was walking. To an outsider, he appeared deeply addicted to some mobile game. In reality, he was just cross-referencing the map with the street signs.

After a few minutes of walking, he made it to the gym, tucking his phone away as he made his way inside. Even with his platform shoes, it was tough seeing past the various people working out, his eyes scanning over… until… There he is.

Jonathan awkwardly walked and shuffled his way over until he was next to a rather large, bulky, and fat pangolin, doing weight lifting with one of the gym regulars acting as a spotter. He took a seat on the nearby stool, waiting until it was safe to distract the large man.

Finally, Arthur put the weights down, and he immediately saw Jonathan. His face immediately beamed. “Hey Jonathan, I was wondering when you were going to swing by!” He got up to his feet, offering a handshake to Jonathan.

Jonathan accepted it, grinning as well. “I’m here! How’s life been treating you?”

Jonathan waited patiently for an answer as Arthur was already taking a big swig of water, his muscles and fat both on full display despite the tank top he wore.

Finally, he had enough water, and he spoke. “Yeah, pretty good. Still on top of my diet.”

He nodded. “Y-yeah, your diet.” The diet Arthur’s been on for 3 month without losing weight. Jonathan wasn’t sure it was working. He also wasn’t sure that Arthur needed it. “Uh… You said you going to see the doctor, how did that go?”

“Honestly…” he let out a small sigh, wiping his face with a towel. “I’m going to go see a new doctor. This one hasn’t helped me lose weight at all, and at this point I need a second opinion.”

“Oh.” Jonathan rubbed the back of his head somewhat awkwardly. “Well, I hope you see the right doctor for you, then...”

Arthur nodded. “Thanks. Anyways, I need a break from working out, how about you start your treadmill walking now?”

Jonathan let out a small sigh. “S-sure…” He made his way to one of two unoccupied treadmills, taking out his fitness shoes and a book from his bag. And then he began walking. Just walking. All while reading his book.

Reading helped him focused, Jonathan only really went to the gym to hang out with Arthur. That, and-

“Hey.”

Daniel… His focus was immediately taken by the tall, muscular, lean jackal who took the other treadmill, starting off at a brisk jog.

Jonathan was staring at him, his breathing slow as his crush just ran in perfect form… His warm smile as he talked… His rough yet shiny fur…

Wait, he was talking… About what?

Jonathan blinked back into reality, turning away to hide his blush. “I didn’t catch that, sorry…”

Daniel’s laugh rattled into Jonathan’s mind, so deeply that he knew he was going to hear it again in his dreams. “I said it’s good to see you still working out more. I thought you gave up like most, uh… academically minded do after a few months.”

Jonathan took a deep breath in, still looking away. “It’s a nice place to look- I mean- walk! Yeah, walk. Besides, my friend and I hang out here…”

“That’s nice,” Daniel said with a warm smile. “Well, I’ll let you get to your book, then.”

“Thanks…” Jonathan slowly turned his gaze back to the book, trying to focus on it as he walked… But his gaze slowly turned to Daniel. His rhythmic, effortless motions… his faint sweat staining his fur… his deep brown eyes reflecting the passion he had for running… Then his eyes suddenly looked over at Jonathan.

Jonathan snapped his gaze back to his book in a panic, his breathing heavier. Did Daniel not notice? Or did he just not say anything about that?

Jonathan barely read much of his book that session, despite his attempts to otherwise.

---

Jonathan and Arthur made their way back to the bakery, and as Jonathan reached the door leading straight to the stairway for his home, he turned back to Arthur. “I had a great time, Arthur. See you soon!”

“Yeah!” Arthur was grinning wide as he stopped and waited. “Hopefully before next week.”

“Oh, uh…” Jonathan paused, his mind racing for the words.

“I know, I know, you’re very busy. I just want to hang out some more. Sometimes you won’t even answer your phone.” Arthur shook his head, timidly looking down to the floor despite otherwise towering over Jonathan. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll see you soon.”

Only once Jonathan was actually going up the stairs did Arthur turn to walk away. And up the stairs Jonathan walked right to his family getting ready. Andrew, Oscar, Junior, Germaine, and Victoria were all clad in some wizard robes, looking like they were going to visit a wizard themed party rather than something academical.

“Jonathan! There you are!” Victoria called out warmly, handing over a fancy robe and under-robe, alongside a pointy hat – all looking like it came straight from a high quality wizard antique set. “Quickly, we’re going to be late.”

Jonathan took the robes with a smile. “It’s not sunset yet, we’ll be fine.”

She sighed. “I just don’t want your first impression to be a slacker. They should know you’re capable of so much.”

“I know, I know,” Jonathan insisted, making his way to his bedroom. A few minutes later, he came back out in the wizard attire, holding a small wooden stick in one hand. Victoria looked him over with a warm smile, checking his pockets… and finding his phone. “You’re not bringing this over.”

Jonathan grabbed his phone, waiting for his mother to let go. “I want to, okay?”

Victoria raised an eyebrow. “There won’t be any reception, what are you going to do with it? What if someone-”

“I know,” Jonathan insisted. “I’ll be careful, okay?”

She hesitated, but eventually let out a soft sigh. “Okay, fine.” She then turned to everyone else, picking up a staff. “Is everyone ready?”

“I’m good.”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s go!” “Let’s go!”

“Fire it away.”

Victoria smiled, taking a deep breath as she held the staff up in one hand, waving her other hand around as she recited some words…

And just like that, the six of them were no longer in a house on top of a bakery. The six of them were within a castle – small compared to other castles, but, well, a castle is still rather massive. In this room, there was a purple carpet laid out across the floor, alongside many quality paintings of each member of the family throughout the years, wearing various regal robes and similar attire.

It was still the same family, but here they weren’t the Bakers. Here, in the New Realm, they were the Devons, celebrity mages.

Victoria beamed widely, adjusting Jonathan’s hat as she smiled wide, tears forming in her eyes. “Oh I’m so excited. My first son, already on the last step to becoming a wizard.”

The twins, no longer having to pretend otherwise, pointed their fingers upwards, small streams firing from their fingers that resembled miniature fireworks, with no sound to match. “Hooray!”

“Oscar, Junior, wait until we’re outside!” Victoria insisted. “The carpet’s still flammable.”

They looked to each other, and began running downstairs, with Germaine chasing down after them.

Victoria turned back to Andrew and Jonathan. “We’re going to be there soon, once the residual from the last teleport wears off. Andrew, this is your brother’s special night – so do not even think about stealing any of it for yourself.”

“I know…”

“And Jonathan?”

“Yeah?” Jonathan looked to his mother, taking a deep breath in.

“Have fun!”

---

The six of them all arrived on site in an instant, Victoria making her way to the curtains to let the rest of her family walk out of the teleport booths one by one first. With Jonathan being the first one out, of course.

He stood proud with his wand and formal attire (by a mage’s standards). He knew his mother walked out the moment he overheard someone speak in a hushed whisper.

“Wait, is that Victoria Devon?”

“I think it is.”

“You should get her autograph.”

“Really?”

“I dare you.”

Jonathan did his best to ignore it, sticking near his siblings to navigate the royal hall. He had barely sat down when someone approached the foxes.

“Mom’s over in the back,”

“if you’re looking for her signature.”

The twins didn’t even turn to look as they spoke.

“Actually…” Jonathan’s ears immediately perked at the dry, monotone voice. “I’m here to speak with Jonathan.”

Jonathan turned around to see a silver furred foxgirl (which, contrary to the name, means her fur’s black) standing at attention, her mage robe a pure, solid black, the white edges the only thing that left her limbs standing out. Her gaze was just as monotone as her voice, her intentions impossible to assuage.

“Alice!” Jonathan called out excitedly, practically leaping to his feet. “I knew you’d get accepted!”

Alice nodded, holding an arm across her waist with a slight bow to her head, before returning to her neutral stance. “Indeed, I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to study alongside you or not.”

Jonathan let out a small chuckle, nervously rubbing the back of his head. “Come on, it’s not like I was guaranteed to get in.”

“You certainly possessed the talent to get into this academy,” Alice began. “But you know that you were effectively guaranteed to be enrolled just from your mother’s legacy boosting your status artificially.”

“Gee, thanks,” Jonathan let out a sigh, before shaking it off. He turned back to his brothers. “Let mum and dad know I’m just hanging out with Alice, okay?”

“I could-”

“No.” He didn’t even need to hear what Andrew had planned to know he was ‘offering’ to impersonate him.

“Aw.”

Jonathan let out a sigh, following right after Alice to the table nearest to the corner. The two sat down together, close enough to hear each other despite the general volume of the party.

“I would’ve told you that I got accepted earlier, but you and your family have the uncanny ability to disappear.”

Jonathan nodded, breaking eye contact for a moment as he tapped a finger on the desk. “Oh, well, uh…”

“It’s a secret, I know.” Alice affirmed. “I don’t care what’s keeping you busy per say, I am just…” She paused, presumably to think of what to say – though that’s tough when her gaze is as blank as ever. “… thinking it wouldn’t be impossible to put aside more time.”

Jonathan looked back to Alice, trying to think of what to say. “Well, uh…” He shook his head, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, I really am putting in as much time as I can.” He looks down to the ground, avoiding Alice’s gaze (doesn’t help that whenever he feels bad her gaze comes across as condescending). He noticed that she wasn’t speaking back, and so – closing his eyes – he looked back up to her. “So, how has your week been going?”

“I brushed up on the field of divination,” Alice began, effortlessly transitioning into a topic. “Despite precognition being touted as the most important spell within divination, true precognition has never been achieved in reality, instead they’re induced hallucinations based on probability. Even modern day precognition only has an accuracy rate of 93% at best.”

Jonathan nodded. “Interesting. I take it precognition magic also has a heavy overlap with scams, then? Given how difficult it would be to disprove in the moment unless you also have divination magic?”

Alice nodded. “While there is a large amount of faux precognition, it’s also got associated with the other end, real divination being used to cheat at games, as even an imperfect prediction of the future gives a solid idea of random events, like at cards.”

Jonathan nodded. “That’d be wild in poker…”

“Poker?” Alice tilted her head. “What’s Poker?”

Wait uh- “N-nothing,” he feebly answered. God, just when he thought he stopped making such silly mistakes. “I misspoke.”

“What did you mean to say?”

“Uh…” Jonathan needed to think of something that sounded close to Poker. But he was coming up blank. He should just admit to himself that he’s coming up blank and-

-he came to lying on the floor, with a throbbing pain at the back of his head, Alice in front of him. Her wand’s glow fading, she tucked it away. “I undid the injury itself, but the pain will take a few minutes to subside.”

“What happened?” Jonathan mumbled out.

Alice glanced up without a word, to the lizard standing over with a ball in one hand. “Sorry, didn’t see you down there!” he called out, though it was far too casual for Jonathan’s liking. “Devon, wasn’t it?”

Jonathan let out a grumble, getting to his feet. “I’m a Bak- I mean- yeah, I am…”

“I expected to see a Devon here,” he continued, spinning the ball with a finger. “What was it, again…?” He stopped spinning the ball, putting it just under his chin to think. “Oh that’s right, Victoria Devon, the World’s Number 1 Generalist Mage. Let’s hope you do a fraction as well as your mother does. We’re in one of the top academies, after all.”

Jonathan brushed himself off, the small crowd slowly dissipating at the sight that he was alright. “We’re here to learn, Mr…?”

“Zachary, but everyone calls me Zach.”

Then, abruptly, Victoria appeared in a flash of light, a soft gust brushing away. “Jonathan! Are you hurt?! How many fingers am I holding up?!”

Jonathan gave a small sigh as his mother checked him for injuries. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Alice healed me, it’s just a small headache now.”

Victoria hugged him close, keeping him in her grasp. “I’m sorry, I made my way to you as soon as I heard.”

“I noticed…”

“Hello, Victoria.” Alice answered nonchalantly.

“Yes, hello Alice,” Victoria answered back, breaking her iron grip on Jonathan. “Thank you so much for keeping my son safe.”

Alice nodded back without a word.

“Since Jonathan’s alright, I’ll let you two get back to talking now. The main event will be on soon.” With no more urgency, she began walking through the crowd (who were cognisant enough to not immediately bombard her with questions/requests/so on).

Jonathan sat back down. “How did he hit me?”

Alice looked over to the crowd, trying to spot Zach. “The ball came from the crowd and hit you at the back of your head hard enough to cause a concussion, which I have undone. I have no proof, but the way he was acting makes me suspect he aimed it with intent.”

“Ass…”

Still emotionless, Alice nodded. “Though I suspect he didn’t expect it to cause a concussion.”

---

Jonathan collapsed back into his bed with a soft groan, not even bothering to get changed.

Almost immediately there was a knock on the door. “Jonathan?” It was Victoria speaking from the other side. “Are you alright?”

“Yes…” Jonathan mumbled out, getting his shoes off onto the floor before he wrapped the blanket over himself. “I’m just exhausted.”

“Already? But it’s not even 8.”

“I’ve had a busy day, mum.”

“Fine, fine, but let me check you for any injuries before you sleep.”

“Mum, I’m fine, Alice healed me up.”

“Just in case. You never know if she missed a spot.”

Jonathan let out another groan, the door opening up right after. Victoria sat down on the side of the bed. Not saying a word, her eyes glazed over her son – one hand held aloft as she silently cast her spell.

“… You’re all clear.”

“Great. Can I sleep now?”

Victoria nodded, making her way back to the door. “Goodnight, Jonathan.”

“Goodnight.”

And with that the door swung close, and Jonathan fell asleep not a minute after. His thoughts lingering on how much time he was going to be able to spend with Arthur before the academy took most of his attention…

[livelaughghoul]

i saw your post about liking older men and i offer to you mika hakkinen and carlos sainz sr (bonus old man of the day: andrew shovlin)

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Here are my thoughts after a quick google search:

1. Mika Hakkinen: I can see the appeal, but not for me. He looks too nice for me personally.

2. Carlos Sainz Sr.: Does Carlos jr. need a step-mom? I mean, I’d settle for jr, but holy shit his dad is 10/10.

3. Andrew Shovlin: I need this man biblically. I need him in a way that is concerning. Holy fucking shit?! Literally, thank you for introducing me to this man, because he got me saying his name like JaNa says Kenny (love island reference for those uncultured)

[gonuclear]

THE BOOTHILL VOICE LEAKS I—

[turntech-fuckedinthehead]

Personal thing (hashtag introject moment)

[daily-cborle]

Day 19 — Falsettos rehearsal

source: ☆

[vanlegion]

Today's been freakin' great - I've been arting all day. Different pieces, including this new piece!

Love your Bodies! Un-norm your Gender! Shame Wizards DNI! Have this Not Straight baby bitch!

... I need to go eat something... I haven't eaten all day. No food, just art.

[paintgroove]

Paint Groove Playlist #124 "Holy Night Groove 2024"

1. The First Noel - Billy Vaughn and His Orchestra

2. The Little Drummer Boy

- Stevie Wonder

3. Winter Wonderland - Ella Fitzgerald

4. Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow! - John Klein

5. The Christmas Tree - David Rose

6. Donde Esta Santa Claus - 張露

7. Las Mañanitas - Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass

8. Jingle Bells - The Brute Force Steel Band

9. Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring

- Johann Sebastian Bach, Dominican Sisters of Mary, Mother of the Eucharist, Sr. Joseph Andrew

Bogdanowicz. OP

10. Santa Claus Is Coming To Town - Frank Sinatra

11. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas - Judy Garland

[jamieandgeorgedashigz]

So, yesterday was St. Andrew's Day, obviously the patron saint of Scotland, where Fox's, Kat's and the Ross's paternal ancestries hail from (as stated in that thought bubble with "Oikonny" and "Andross" and the OG version of their name in Greek), and I couldn't help but think... If St Patrick's Day is such a big deal, even to the non-Irish, why aren't St Andy's, St David's, St George's etc treated the same way?

Oh, I think I know. That thing in the US. St Pat's Day parades aren't even a traditional thing in Ireland.

- Jamie

[executive-leader-of-ccrp]

my name is both ted and wilbur. <3

… shit.

[fincoolguy]

JANE THE KILLER (THIS TOOK 12HOURS/SRS)

HELLO TUMBLR I AM . VERY TIRED BUT HERES MY JANE THE KILLER ART HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAH 😃😃😃😃😃

my (VERY IMPORTANT) Jane the killer headcanons (I might explain them in some more detail tomorrow so follow for that hehe):

in MYworld she’s a 20 something not cishet bitch who

1. Thinks of Jeff (the killer) as her friends cringe younger brother

2. Views the Jane the killer sona as a drag persona/uses it to explore art and makeup and stuff . (Pidgindoll’s masks were heaaaavy inspo for this)

3. Is a goth bitch with a buzzcut and barely any eyebrows (she likes to have a “blank canvas” to experiment w makeup and wigs on when she isn’t in her sona bc hint hint it’s fun and self expression + Sally LOOOVES helping shave her head . Jane is such a big sister to Sally and Nina auauauauuauauauaau)

4. definitely helps Nina dye her hair / facilitates any tea party dolling up that Sally might request (read: Put slenderman in a wig 🔥🔥h

Also when Jeff finds out about #3 he starts hating women because he realizes that maybe she doesn’t actually give a shit about him/thinks he’s cringe (he thinks he’s the coolest guy out there) (he starts watching Andrew Tate) (I’ve said it before Jeff is a cringey fucking 14yo who will one day look back on his behavior in utter horror) (also Jeff might be an egg) (gets Jeff the killed for that last parenthetical)

I LOVE Jane the killer and before I made this I didn’t love her as much as I should have I think 🙁 but now I see the light

in post: titled, untitled, and close ups of the two portraits (left in main piece: her w the mask and right is her w/o)