#the sugar house

[adarkrainbow]

As I was looking for Hansel and Gretel illustrations (for my previous post), I came upon these illustrations of a book where the witch in the candy-house is replaced... BY A FRIGGIN MURDEROUS BEAR

These are pictures of an old German children book called "Das Zuckerige Haus oder Hansel und Gretel" (The Sugary House, or Hansel and Gretel), by Lilly Scherbauer. I couldn't find the original text, and there are only a rare few other pictures of the book on antique book-selling websites:

(The second picture comes from a variation of the book, a different edition called "Das zuckerige Häuschen")

But given the fact the witch was replaced by a bear, I can easily tell you which kind of story it might be. You see, this book seems to tell a German variation of a fairytale found in the countries between Germany and France - a story that is itself a variation of "Hansel and Gretel", which involves typically an animal (usually a wolf) within a sugar house, and his attempt at devouring two children.

One famous example of this tale is the Belgian fairytale known as "The Sugar-Candy House" (well... "sucre candi" actually means "cane sugar" in English, but apparently the Sugar-Candy House has been a more common translation?). It was notably collected/written by Jean de Bosschère, and had some pretty trippy illustrations:

The story goes as such. Jan and Jannette, brother and sister, lived near a big wood, and every day went there to play and do childish things such as fishing in the streams or making necklaces of red berries. But one day they went further in the depths of the wood than usual, and found a "pretty red bridge" over a brook. Crossing it, they saw a little pink cottage, that as it turns out was entirely made of "suga-candy". The children, loving all kinds of sweets, started eating the roof - but unknown to them, an old wolf named Garon lived in the house. He was fierce and strong and dangerous, but hopefully he had one paralyzed leg meaning he couldn't move very fast. Upon hearing noises outside, he limped out of the cottage, asking "Who dares touch my sugar house?"

He saw no one, since the children had run away hidng behind the trees, and when he roared again "Who dares touch my sugar-candy house?", the children answered with the rhyme of Hansel and Gretel - you know, the rhyme according to which it is just the wind, who is a "mild and lovable child". The wolf, satisfied with this answer, returned in his house. The next day, the whole adventure repeated itself - but this time, while Garon returned in his house after the rhyme, there was "suspicion in his eyes".

The third day was a stormy day, and this time Garon got out of the house immediately as he heard the nibbling sounds, catching the children in the act. He jumped to devour them, but the children fled. A chase followed through the woods: the children were not afraid, because they knew they could outrun the wolf, and the limping beast could never catch up to them... But the wolf still kept on following them, and never left them out of his sight, and the children could not lose him in any way. Unfortunately for the children, they ended up reaching a very deep river with no bridge.

To avoid being caught by the wolf, they begged ducks that swam nearby to carry them over the waters, and the nice ducks obliged. The wolf, having seen how the siblings had crossed the river, also asked the ducks to carry him over - but instead of politely asking, he threatened the ducks of eating them if they did not obey him. The ducks, who refused to suffer such rudeness, and didn't like the wolf much anyway, took the wolf on their back... but threw him in the water right in the middle of the river.

Three times he went down and three times he came up, but the fourth time he sank never to rise any more. That was the end of old Garon, and a good job, too, say I. I don’t know what became of his Sugar-Candy House, but I dare say, if you could find the wood, and the sun had not melted the candy, or the rain washed it away, you might break a bit of it off for yourselves.

[Trivia: The choice of "Garon" as the wolf's name is no random fanciness. "Garon" is very similar to the French word "garou", which is an old, folkloric term typically used to designate supernatural, malevolent and/or humanoid type of wolves. For example, in French a "werewolf" is a "loup-garou", "loup", meaning "wolf".]

[shelandsorcery]

these foggy rainy moody days have me nostalgic for dark fairytale vibes.

this piece was painted digitally in 2013, for Rose Bailey's collection of short stories, The Sugar House.

that looming Baba Yaga house has me itching to draw more huts on legs in the future

[captainkirkk]

I want to see characters being taken care of in an explicit and worshipful way. Home-cooked meals. Hair brushed and braided by gentle hands. Little gifts just because.

I want to read about characters who are not used to kindness being bombarded by acts of service. This trope works romantically and platonically. Give me found family and acts of service - all the ways a character is wrapped up in wordless, explicit care after years of cruelty and having no idea how to handle. I need it.

[locuas642]

I never watched James Somerton. but I do remember when there was an increasing criticism ("criticism") of Animated shows like Steven Universe of She-Ra being "female-led queer shows" showing that queer women had an "easier" time getting heard of than Queer men.

And at the time I wasnt sure how much I personally could add to that discussion or how much was my place. but now that I feel I have better words to explain my feelings I can say I always thought it was bull.

Queer women do not have an "easier" time getting heard or getting their shows produced. Steven Universe got cancelled for homophobic reasons, and She-Ra had to be extremely careful with how they made Catradora Canon.

Those shows were also teared apart by "fans" who tried their hardest to make the most bad-faith arguments for these shows.

And yes, it is important to mention, ND Stevenson goes by He/Him while Rebecca Sugar is Non-binary, and that comes with their own set of discrimination, including getting misgendered. At the time, before they were out and everyone acted on the belief they were Cis, the argument was that as queer women, they had an "advantage" compared to other queer men, and also Dana Terrace (who is Cis as far as I know) also received this criticism. Most important, they would be shit takes regardless of that

and it's such bullshit, not just because of how unhelpful it is. How it tries to tear down important works and reduce them as a competition. But because of the deeply misogynistic root on it all: that these shows could only get made for "diversity points." That the only reason they got these shows made wasn't because of the blood sweat and tears of queer people working in an industry that is hostile to them. a negation and erasure of their effort.

[floralcavern]

Pieces of media that seem sweet and wholesome, but really aren’t

EDIT:

I am SO mad at myself for forgetting Centaurworld

[cupid-styles]

golf (sugar daddy h)

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: spicy but no smut, dirty talk, degradation, exhibitionism if you squint

sugar daddy h masterlist | main masterlist

talk to me

. . .

Mia doesn't care about golf. 

Not once in her life has she ever thought it was a fascinating sport. There are some sports, like hockey or baseball, that, at the very least, seem hot, if not a little attractive, but golf isn't one of those. 

And of course, Harry loves to golf.

It's nothing against him, really. If she's being honest, in her eyes, golf is a rich man's sport. Since they started seeing each other months ago, Harry has always made it a point to go golfing at least once a week. He has a membership to a country club nearby and either goes by himself, with his friends, or takes business partners there, where they spend the day drinking and hitting balls and whatever else wealthy people do at country clubs.

Mia wouldn't know because she's never gone and, quite frankly, she never wants to go. 

She adores Harry. She really, truly does, but being a frequent attender of the country club to play such a silly, boring sport just serves as another class barrier between them. Harry grew up going to golf camp, for crying out loud! Mia spent her summers working at the local ice cream shop, where she got paid $7 an hour to get yelled at by angry parents because she was only allowed to let their kids taste three flavors before they had to buy something.

So when Harry asks if she wants to spend her Saturday golfing with him at the club, she tries to come up with a million excuses as to why she can't. But because he's him, and he has a pretty face and a soothing voice and he threw in the prospect of spoiling her with a massage at the spa after they finished their game, she can't find it in her to say no. 

Harry has a business dinner the night before so Mia sleeps at her own place, which she's kind of surprised with, to be honest. (She anticipated him asking her to stay over so she didn't have a chance to get out of it.) Even despite the text he sent her at 11:40 pm to let her know that he got home safely (that's basically 2 am in Harry time), he shows up to her house in his golf clothes at 9 am on the dot, breakfast and coffee in hand. 

Mia has to physically drag herself out of bed to let him in, a scowl on her face, even though he went out of his way to go to her favorite bagel shop. 

"Morning, grumpy," he greets cheekily, smushing a kiss to her cheek. He doesn't even bother toeing his shoes off like he normally does, instead giving her bum a soft pat when she turns back around, "We have reservations at the club for 10, so you should go get dressed. You can eat in the car."

"Are you sure you want me to go?" Mia asks, and Harry has to ignore the slight hopefulness to her tone, "I've never even played golf before, I don't think I'll be very good—"

"It's not about being good, honey, I just want to spend the day with you. Show you off, y'know?" he leans forward to press a kiss to her temple before ducking down to catch her ear. "Now be good and go get dressed."

He doesn't catch the narrowing of her eyes as she reluctantly heads back to her bedroom, where she grabs the stupid golf outfit he insisted on buying her for this very occasion. She told him she was fine with wearing leggings and a tee-shirt, but he explained to her that there was a certain etiquette that came with golf, which included clothing. (Like Mia said, it's a rich man's sport.) So he bought her a short little skirt and a workout top and, if she's being frank, she's not sure if it's not more for him than it is for the game itself. 

She tried it on a few days ago when he brought it over and she batted at his chest when she saw the length of the skirt on her — unlike those trendy workout skorts that had spandex shorts underneath, the pleats of the one Harry purchased barely went down to the tops of her thighs. With a grumble, she said she'd just wear boyshorts to make sure no one "saw the goods."

But now that she's getting dressed for their golf day, she thinks she has a better idea. 

. . . 

Mia sucks at golf.

Harry keeps trying to encourage her and help her, but they're on hole 8 of 18, and she's exhausted. It's warm, she's sweaty, and Harry's beating her ass in the game. (What else would you expect from someone who spent their summer vacations playing every day?) 

"You got this, baby," he says, giving her waist a small squeeze as they approach hole nine. She rolls her eyes from behind her sunglasses, rolling out her wrist in an effort to get rid of the cramps. "Do you still need me to help you?"

Just as she's about to say yes, she remembers the impulsive decision she made this morning. And she realizes she knows exactly how to get this game to end. 

"Actually, I think I can do it," she replies with a smile, jumping out from the golf cart. "Will you just stand behind me and make sure I'm doing it right?"

Harry's pleasantly surprised but nods his head, a zip of enthusiasm firing through his chest. He follows her out and stands with his hands on his hips as she sets herself up, trying to find her stance. 

Per Harry's instructions, she leans over just slightly, a small bend in her knees. And that's when he sees it. 

She's not wearing anything underneath her skirt. 

"Mia," he growls, ambling towards her to cover her from behind, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Um, I think it's called teeing off? That's what you said, anyway—"

"Not that," he mutters, a protective hand squeezing her hip. He glances around them to make sure no one's watching them as his fingers dance down to the hem of her skirt, gently pulling it down. "Why aren't you wearing any underwear, Mia?"

"Ohhhh, that?" she asks, turning in his grasp. "I must've forgotten them. I'm sorry."

She has a look of false innocence on her face, her eyes rounded slightly and her lips pouted as if she was truly making a genuine apology. He's seething — he wants nothing more than to bend her over his knee and issue loud, harsh smacks to her ass, but he thinks she would like that too much. 

"You're such a fucking slut." he mumbles angrily, his jaw clenching. He grabs the golf club from her hand and uses his other to yank her back in the direction of the golf cart, a surprised yelp sounding from her mouth. "Are you that much of a brat that you've been walking around with your pussy out all day?"

She shrugs nonchalantly as she climbs into the golf cart. Harry rolls his eyes and shifts the key into the ignition, starting the machine back up. 

"Guess you'll just have to take me home, then," Mia replies with a sigh. Harry snorts and shakes his head. 

"You fucking wish," he says. She blinks at him. "No, baby. I'm gonna take you into one of those private bathrooms, edge you until you're crying, and then we're gonna finish this game."

Mia's eyes widen, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as he drives over a bump in the road. 

"Good thing I brought that nifty little remote control vibrator with me," he continues with a smirk. "Had a feeling you'd be a fuckin' brat today."

Mia doesn't know if she's ever regretted something so much before.

[theultimatesandwich]

I like to believe that the reason we never saw a Huntlow kiss/confession/anything of that sort and that it was left to subtext/everything we did get to see, was that it’s a parallel of how queer relationships are typically portrayed in media

How many times has the queer relationship been left to subtext, or confirmation after the fact, or restrictions from networks limits it to only hand holding/blushes, if that? While the straight relationships usually have no such restrictions?

Now the owl house can come here giving us all the queer confessions, kisses, hand holdings, confirmed marriages, everything we could want. And the straight relationship is left in “subtext”. Idk, it’s a weird poetic subversion of the trope and idk if it’s intentional or not, but I’m going to pretend it is and make the most out of the situation

[romancemedia]

Anime Series - Main and Alternate Posters

[first--lines]

The train call for the Number One Company of A Clerical Error was for nine o'clock. At half-past eight Clara Batchelor had already been sitting for a considerable time in the Refreshment Room at King's Cross spinning out cups of tea and trying not to turn her head hopefully every time the door swung open. Stephen Tye had promised if he could possibly manage it, to come and see her off. He would be off on his own first tour next week, and, having failed to get into the same company, it might be months before she saw him again.

  —  The Sugar House (Antonia White)

[maleficarem]

Helaena Targaryen House of the Dragon, Season 1 Episode 8, "The Lord of the Tides"

[homeofhousechickens]

Its a very hot day today which means Sugar was throwing a huge chicken tantrum intill i let her sit in the sink for a bit. She is so weird!

[then-be-a-warrior]

My biggest mistake was trying to protect you by changing this beautiful, good witch into something she wasn't.

You are different. That's what so exciting. You don't have to be like Rose Quartz. You can be someone even better. You can be, you.

Self-acceptance. It makes you fucking powerful.

[kittenscookie]

Okay I've been thinking about Owl House a lot lately and...Guys I'm just so damn angry. Because I rewatched the first episode of the finale and realized something. That first episode is a season finale—That whole episode is one season's worth of content crammed into a single episode. That's at LEAST 12 episodes in 60 minutes—five minutes for each damn episode. But remember the first season of toh was nineteen, the second was twenty-one. If we assume the team would have continued with around that many episodes the average is around twenty. Twenty fucking episodes is sixty minutes—THREE MINUTES AN EPISODE.

This then led me to thinking about my other cancelled show with LGBTQ+ representation—Steven Universe. It's basically the same shit, except somehow fucking worst. The diamond arc should have been it's own fucking season, curing the corrupted gems and them having to get reintroduced to gem/human society should have been a damn season too! The two year time skip makes sense when you really think about it—that's the least amount of time it would have taken to get all that shit done in universe! A year to get the gems readjusted, a year to dismantle the diamond empire—plus episodes filling in gaps/unanswered questions. No wonder Rebecca fought so damn hard for SU Future and the movie! It was a desperate attempt to give herself and the fans some kind of closure! And don't forget! Steven universe seasons were LONG—the median amount of episodes was twenty-four.

This shit wasn't bad writing, it was rushed writing. Desperate attempts to cram what should have been at LEAST two seasons into a few short episodes. Can you imagine this? Sitting with your coworkers and trying to figure out how to make at least forty episodes only 3–6? What can be kept and what has to be left to the imagination? Think of what we fucking lost at those tables—Spinel could have been teased and had a better build up, we could have gotten a Wittebane Brothers flashback, we could have explored the characters in both shows trauma. I'm not just mad—I'm livid and not even for us. For Dana Terrace, for Rebecca Sugar. To have something you created thrown away without a care. I'd be in fucking tears.

Fuck Disney, fuck Warner Brothers.

[fangirl-nadir]

Ok but imagine if ND Stevenson, Rebecca Sugar, and Dana Terrace all worked together on a cartoon

[rottiens]

The other day I saw that panel again about Toji sleeping around because he needs a roof over his head somehow, and I'm just gonna put this out there, that I'd easily be one of those delusional women who would try to make him fall in love with me. Hell, I'd even try to be his sugar momma/babe with my minimum wage job, lmao

this made me scream lol, sorry but same. i think i could make him change and you know what...in my little head i think it is possible. 

i think he would be reluctant at first, like a stray cat you have to tame. one that pulls back when you try to pet him but slowly gives in as you show him that you are not going to hurt him. 

the first time he sleeps over he makes it clear that it doesn't mean anything, he has a pout and a wrinkled nose, dirty shirt from the drizzle that fell earlier and a band aid you placed on his cheek. even though toji's rules are clear, sex only, you wake up in the middle of the night with his arms wrapped around you, tied around your waist like a knot that you can't get rid of. 

he smells like home, like you. like the detergent you used to wash his clothes, like the shampoo he took without your permission to wash his hair and you can't help but cling to him more in search of that warmth.

the next week he gets trapped in your house when he is putting on his tight shirt and heading out. torrential rains pelted the city, preventing him from seeing the road, so you forced him to watch your favorite show on the couch with treats you had at home and a warm blanket over his legs. 

"we're not a couple," the semi-domesticated cat reminds you with a growl. 

two months later and toji doesn't want to get out of your bed after you have sex, hugs you, snuggles you and refuses to let you out of his grip when you demand that you have to go to work. toji stays in the mornings after breakfast and accepts when you invite him to lunch on your off time.  

"we're not a couple," he reminds you as you put the face mask on him and you can't help but laugh. you have his shirt on and he's in your bathroom half naked with one of your headbands holding his hair back to let you see his face better. 

you help him shave, he rewards you by massaging your back, your feet, fucking you slow and soft in prone bone. toji claims he's not your boyfriend, but slowly the line becomes blurred the day he arrives with a box in his hands with his belongings and doesn't leave again the next day… or the other. 

[iamnmbr3]

Draco: --and then he said "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks." Can you believe it? Not that I care. Who would want to be friends with him anyway?

Pansy: Draco. That was FOUR YEARS AGO!

Zabini: *facepalming* Pansy tell me when it's over.