#when i was a kid a teacher told us a story about a king? whose wife told him he wasnt allowed to look at her when she bathes but he | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

barnesbabee · 3 years

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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ - ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

WONDERLAND MASTERLIST ⇜ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ - ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ- ɴᴇxᴛ ⟿

CHARACTER LIST: White Rabbit - Choi Jongho Absolem (Blue Catterpilar) - Kang Yeosang Cheshire Cat - Kim Hongjoong Mad Hatter - Choi San Haigha (March Hare) - Jung Wooyoung Tweedle Dee - Song Mingi Tweedle Dum - Jeong Yunho Bloody Red King - Park Seonghwa

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @myunvillage @mirror-juliet @jess-1404 @earth-to-leiki [Send me a DM, an ask or comment to be added to the tag list]

"Teach you what?"

"How to be a better man, how to have mercy, and compassion."

Unbeknownst to you, a little purple and pink cat watched every step you took. Of course, it wasn't because he cared. Cheshire (unlike many other Wonderland villagers) genuinely wasn't affected by your presence, or lack there of, but the Hatter had asked him, in exchange of a hefty reward, of course, to keep an eye on his beloved Y/N.

While watching over you Cheshire just did a whole bunch of growling and nose scrunching. He hated the sight of the King, and even worse, was the sight of such a man in love.

"Such a shame to be the bearer of bad news dear friend," Cheshire said, not at bothered by the fact that he had bad news to tell "but it seems as if Y/N will be our new Queen."

The cat twirled a strand of his coloured hair around his index finger, as he fell down onto one of the many chairs along with the Hatter's never-ending table.

The Hatter's eyes widened and so did his toothy smile.

"She's carrying on with the plan! She will decapitate him herself and become our Queen! Oh but I'm so happy I could dance the Futterwacken again!"

He clapped feverously and suggested a toast, clearly missing the meaning of Cheshire's words.

"I'm afraid you missed what I meant, Hatter. She will be our Queen, because she will be marrying the King."

The atmosphere suddenly became silent, eerie even. The Hatter's green, sparkly eyes transformed into an ugly, rage-filled, yellow. The man gripped the teacup on his hand so hard it broke, but the rage, disappointment, and growing heartbreak fogged his brain to the point where he didn't even notice the pain, nor the blood trickling down his palm.

The Hatter was rarely angry, but when he was, it was enough to scare poor Cheshire, who didn't hesitate in disappearing into thin air. Or he tried to. Before every bit of his body could be gone, the Hatter grabbed Cheshire's hair, making the cat groan in pain, and threw him on the ground.

"What has he done to her!? Was it a curse!?"

Cheshire caressed his head and stood up to look at the Hatter.

"It wasn't a curse Hatter, she fell in love. After you deceived her and the King showed her nothing but truth and love, the choice was pretty evident."

The reasonable explanation seemed to calm down the Hatter, whose eyes morphed back into their greenish colour. However the dread and panic in his face were still evident. Cheshire, still quite upset at Hatter's tantrum, could see on his friend's face an expression of someone about to spew a terrible, terrible idea.

"We must get her away from the Palace. It's gotten into her head. Let's get her back to us!"

The man-like cat floated back to his usual place in the air, twirling in the process. He chuckled audibly, showing his sharp canines in the process.

"Hmm yes, let's steal her away from the man she's come to love, so she could be with us, the people who lied to her for our own benefit. Sounds like a party if you ask me..."

"A party!?" Haigha exclaimed, his left eye twitching as he smiled widely at the mention of his favourite hobbie.

"That's where the King's behaviour comes in our favour," the Hatter said, patting Haigha's head so he'd sit back down "once he sees her take her beloved Queen away, he will show his true colours, Remember how scared and freaked out she was last time we saw her? She said he seemed really sweet while talking to her until he eventually snapped. Once he snaps, he will freak out and bring out the tyrant's behaviour and scare her away."

It was hard for Cheshire to admit, but his mad friend's plan wasn't so mad after all. It was possible to accomplish what the Hatter suggested, and there was nothing to lose, you already hated them anyway.

The Hatter slapped his thighs and stood up, fixing his big top hat in the process.

"Shall we go?"

Haigha was already standing up from his seat when Cheshire stopped them.

"Perhaps we should discuss the plan further... Something tells me we might need some help from Absolem and Bayard..."

Sneaking you out past the Card Knights would take a lot of help, and Cheshire had already worked out in his head the escape plan. It would take a little pressure on Absolem, as he managed to care even less about the people around him than Cheshire did, but the cat was sure he could get a shrinking cake out of the blue catterpillar. After shrinking you and hatter down to the size of a strawberry, Bayard (the loyal dog friend of Hatter's, that Cheshire tried his best to keep a distance of) would bring you to the White Rabbit's house, as it would be too obvious to come back to the Hatter's cabin.

The cat had no intention to help you, but he did like to see some drama and commotion in Wonderland once in a while, and this was his chance.

Whilst all of the furious planning went on on the greenlands of Wonderland, in the Palace you and the King sat opposite of each other on his bed, gossiping like two high schoolers.

"And then my best friend at the time, Anna, slept with my boyfriend and said it was 'because of a dare'. I forgave her because we had been friends for so long but then she told my crush that I smelled so I stopped being her friend."

The King nodded along and listened attentively (trying his best to cross his legs just like you, but failing miserably) to your story.

"Hm yes, yes, I understand. My best friend ate one of my tarts so I cut off his head."

You couldn't help but scoff at the way he compared the situations, although you reprehended him right after for the heartless act.

He had asked to know of your previous life, how it was back in your world, and so you sat there reminiscing your past for hours on end. Most people in Wonderland came from other places, but Seonghwa had never been elsewhere, as he was born in the Kingdom.

"So this establishment you call 'school', was it like a club you went to where you reunited with your peers?"

"No, no. School was a mandatory thing for all kids, we went there and a bunch of teachers taught us about different things."

"Hm, but all you've told me so far were anecdotes about these friends of yours, what were these classes like?"

You blushed slightly, realizing that in fact, you didn't remember shit from school, aside from past dramas.

"Well, they told us many things about earth, about what makes the world move, about how society works, and what makes things work. We learned about gravity, about numbers, about stars-"

"Stars!?"

The King's eyes lit up as if he was a child whom you had promised ice cream to.

"Yes, stars. Why?"

Seonghwa stood up from the bed in such a violent manner, he nearly fell. The man ran over to his closet, from where he retrieved an old book. The hard cover was beginning to tear, and the once white pages had become a weird mix of brown and yellow, but you took it in your hands nevertheless.

"This book once fell into the Wonderland when I was a child. I was alone most of the time, so it kept me company. I can tell from the images it talks about the stars, and I think I learned a lot from it since I stared at them a lot, but I cannot comprehend the alien language."

The King leaned against the headboard, and you laid beside him, placing your head on his chest, so you could hear his now nervous heart beating fast from the contact. Out of instinct, the King placed his arm around you and pulled you closer, as you opened the book.

You chuckled slightly, after seeing the author of the book and opening its pages.

"Seonghwa this isn't an alien language, it's Italian. Well, I guess it's an alien language to you, but it was funny that you said it that way... The person who wrote it was very influential back where I'm from, he taught the people of Earth many things about our space."

The male listened carefully as you tried your best to explain the things in the book as best as you could.

"This here is what we call the Solar System. It has nine planets, but only one of them has people, this one, where I live." You told him, pointing towards Earth.

Seonghwa noticed how your posture changed, after you remembered once more that you would never return home again, and panicked for a second. He disliked many things, but your tears had definitely gone up to his number 1 on the list.

"How about I ask for a picnic to be arranged in the garden, and at night we can watch the stars."

You turned to face him and smiled as you nodded. Seonghwa's thumb caressed your arm, and you couldn't help but to place a soft kiss on his lips, as a 'thank you'. No matter how many times you did that, the King never seemed to get used to it. He would always feel butterflies in his stomach and fireworks exploding on his chest. Sometimes you felt perverted, thinking of how he'd react if one day you decided to take it... further. You imagined how pretty he'd look... But you decided to take your time. Baby steps...

The King couldn't wait for dinner time, and you could tell from the number of times he had gone up to the window and pushed away the blinds to see if the sun was finally setting.

As he was staring out the window, you came behind him and wrapped your arms around his figure.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

Seonghwa looked around, to make sure no one was nearby eavesdropping. He wouldn't want your secret to being known.

You tiptoed so your lips could be leveled with his ear.

"You're adorable."

Once you got back down and looked into his gleeful eyes, you smiled.

"Let's keep this secret between us!" He joked along.

"Yes, I wouldn't want the other ladies to know and steal you away."

Seonghwa held your face and lovingly placed a kiss on your forehead.

"The other ladies don't stand a chance next to you princess."

Your cheeks heated up and you slapped his chest out of embarrassment. The King's face grew worried and confused.

"Why did you hit me? Have I done something wrong? It was meant to be a compliment I'm sorry I compared you to-"

You grabbed his face and squished his cheeks, making him form an adorable pout with his red lips.

"Seonghwa, it was a good thing. I slapped your chest because I was embarrassed, I was really touched by your compliment."

Once you let go of his face, the King tapped his chin with his index finger, in a pensive manner.

"I have much to learn about our future interactions, I do not understand many things."

You just chuckled and took his hand in yours.

"We have many years ahead of us, you will learn someday."

The small acknowledgment of your future made Seonghwa very happy. Never in his pitiful life had he even thought of being this happy over small actions... Last week the only thing that brought him joy was the sound of a traitor's head hitting the concrete floors of the palace's main area, but since you arrived, a smile was all it took for his cold heart to start beating again.

It didn't take long before one of the frogmen knocked on the door to inform the picnic was ready. Seonghwa didn't let go of your hand as you walked outside, to sit among the red roses.

You had finally come to terms with Wonderland's weird food. You had no choice really...

"Have you never been attracted to anyone, Seonghwa?" You asked as you munched down on a sandwich of... whatever it was.

Seonghwa's expression faded a little.

"Once. I had just become King and I thought that the next step would, logically, be the find a Queen. Every woman displeased me. All but one. She was beautiful, hair as dark as the night sky, tanned skin from the sun, and a beautiful mole under the eye. But she was cold, evil... I thought that it was a perfect match. After all, I wasn't the most caring person. But she would treat me like a servant. Our relationship was purely to serve a purpose to the Kingdom, nothing else. We slept in separate rooms and spent the day apart. We only dined together, but since I saw the same behavior from my parents I thought that that was love. Our wedding had been scheduled long before she moved into the castle, we were simply waiting for the preparations to be finished. Everything was custom made, from the clothes to the flowers on every table. The day before the wedding I walked to her bedroom and found her laying with a servant of mine. You know, back when they weren't... Frogs. I had them both decapitated, of course. And I swore off love forever. That is until you came along."

You flashed him a sad smile and set down your food. He looked awfully confused as you climbed onto his lap, but he didn't protest.

You brushed his dark hair away from his eyes. Both of them. He suddenly felt very exposed and insecure, but you kissed his cheek, reassuringly.

"Ever since I came down here you've shown me nothing but love, and honesty. You didn't try to sugarcoat who you are, or what you've done, and I appreciate your honesty. My place in Wonderland is with you."

The male smiled, and kissed you, a little more passionately than all of the previous times. The male's hands trailed down your ass, and pulled you on top of his growing erection.

"For someone who has never been with anyone you're quite good at this."

"Well I... I lied. I had a fiancé after all, and we laid together but we didn't get far. There was no kissing involved, she just wanted to get it over with since I was the one who suggested we should... do it. But she made fun of me for not being good at it and I became... insecure. I was insecure and for the longest time I've wanted to try it with you, because you give me those special butterflies but I was afraid I'd disappoint you."

"What a cold, heartless bitch!" You thought to yourself. No wonder he was so bad at human interactions, every relationship he had was a trainwreck!

You grabbed his face and placed a long kiss on his lips.

"Well then, let me lead at first. If you start feeling more confident, you can take the lead, if not, I'll stay in control, okay?"

The King simply nodded and kissed you once more. This time deeper than he had ever kissed anyone. Tongues fighting so intensely the King nearly missed the way your hand expediently undid his trousers. Your hand slipped inside his boxers and took out his length. You looked down at the dick in your hand and widened your eye.

"Well aren't I a lucky girl."

You spat in your hand and kissed him again, as your hand worked up and down his shaft. The King was surprisingly very vocal, and he didn't try to hide or suppress any of his pretty moans (and for that you were thankful.

You stopped your hand, right as he was getting riled up.

"Ready for something better?"

The King watched you strip from your panties, and he cursed the frilly dress that covered your womanhood, but as soon as you sunk down on his cock, all of his worries and anguishes washed away. It was automatic, the way he gripped your hips and made you bounce on him as he snapped your hips against yours was something he did naturally as if he truly knew what he was doing. You brought out something different in him, and the King was simply doing was his body was telling him to do.

You gripped his shoulders, overwhelmed with the feeling of having him inside you.

"S-shit Seonghwa, you're good, r-really fucking good."

"Oh yeah?"

He flipped you two around, so he could pound into you with all the strength he had. Your words of encouragement were all he needed.

Your consistent (and loud) moans got him on the edge quickly, and he knew he wouldn't last long.

"Y/N forgive me, but I don't think I can last much longer."

Your hand reached down and began circling your clit, so when he came inside you, filling you up with his cum, you came right after, with a loud cry for his name.

Seonghwa laid on top of you, his face nuzzled on the crook of your neck, trying to regain his breath. You ran your hand through his hair as you did the same, looking up at the sky.

"The stars sure look beautiful today."

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melisa-may-taylor72 · 4 years

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QUEEN BEFORE QUEEN

THE 1960s RECORDINGS

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PART 4:

THE OPPOSITION

JOHN DEACON WAS THE QUIETEST MEMBER OF A MIDLAND-BASED FIVE-PIECE WHOSE GREATEST AMBITION WAS TO PLAY ANOTHER GIG.

Initial research John S. Stuart. Additional research and text: Andy Davis.

John Deacon was the fourth and final member to join Queen. He became part of that regal household 25 years ago this month, enrolling as the band’s permanent bassist in February 1971. His acceptance marked the culmination of a six-year ‘career’ in music, much of which he spent in an amateur, Leicestershire covers band called the Opposition.

From 1965 until 1969, Deacon and his schoolmates ploughed a humble, local furrow in and around their Midlands hometown, reflecting the decade’s mercurial moodswing with a series of names, images and styles of music. The most remarkable fact about the Opposition was just how unremarkable the group actually was.

Collectively, they were an unambitious crew: undertaking precisely no trips down to London to woo A&R men; winning only one notable support slot for the army of chart bands who visited Leicester in the ‘60s (opening for Reperata & the Delrons in Melton Mowbray in 1968); and managing even to miss out on the option of sending a demo tape to any of the nation’s record labels. The band’s saving grace is its solé recorded legacy: a three-track acetate — although even this was done for purely private consumption, and has rarely been aired outside the confines of their inner circle.

It is perhaps indicative of the Opposition’s modest outlook that their most promising bid for stardom, a beat contest, was called off before they had the chance to play in the finals. For John Deacon and friends, it seems, merely being in a band was reward enough.

Considering of all of this, it’s easy to imagine the response to the following story, related in the ‘60s to one of the Opposition’s guitarists, Ronald Chester:...[ ]

...[ ] “There was a teacher who worked at Beauchamp School, which John attended, who told fortunes. They went to see her one Saturday and were told, ‘John Deacon is going to be world famous and very, very rich. Of course, they all fell about laughing. She was determined that this was going to happen. But they all thought it was a joke."

What particularly amused Deacon’s colleagues was the unlikeliness of this scenario, given the plain facts of his demeanour. John was born in Leicester in 1951, the product of affluent, middle-class, middle England. As a youngster, he was known to his friends as ‘Deaks’ and grew up to be quiet and reserved, what Mark Hodkinson referred to in ‘Queen — ‘The Early Years’ as “a ghost of a boy".

“He is basically shy,” confirms Richard Young, the Opposition’s first guitarist/vocalist, and later keyboardist. “I suppose he was quieter than the rest of us — but he was fairly static with Queen if you look at him on stage.”

Ron Chester agrees: “John was quiet by nature. His sister, Julie, was the same. Once he got going, though, he wasn’t any different from anybody else. But on first approach, you really had to coax him out of his shell. We’d have to pick him up. He couldn’t walk down the road to meet us."

CONFIDENT

Despite any lack of personal dynamics, Deacon was a capable teenager: “He was very confident," recalls another of the band’s guitarists, David Williams. “But in a laidback sort of way. He didn’t have a problem with anything. ‘Yeah, I can do that’, he’d say. We used to call him ‘Easy Deacon’, not because of any sexual preferences, but because he’d say something was easy without it sounding big-headed. I remember saying to him once, I’m going to have to knock off the gigs a bit to revise for my ‘A’ levels. What about you?’ ‘No’, he said, ‘I don’t need to. I’ve never failed an exam yet, and I’ve never revised for one’. Ultimately, he was just confident, with a phenomenally logical mind. If he couldn’t remember something, he could work it out. And, of course, he got stunning results.”

John’s earliest interest was electronics, which he studied into adulthood. He also went fishing, trainspotting even, with his father. Then music took over. After dispensing with a ‘Tommy Steele’ toy guitar, John used the proceeds from his paper round to buy his first proper instrument, an acoustic, when he was about twelve. An early musical collaborator was a school mate called Roger Ogden, who like Roger Taylor down in Cornwall, was nicknamed ‘Splodge’. But his best friend was the Opposition’s future drummer, Nigel Bullen.

“I’d first got to know John at Langmore Junior School in Oadby, just outside Leicester, in either 1957 or 1958,’' recalls Nigel. “We were both the quiet ones. We started playing music together at Gartree High School, when we were about thirteen. We were inspired by the Beatles — they made everybody want to be in a group. John was originally going to be the band’s electrician, as he called it. He used to build his own radios, before we had any amps, and he fathomed a way of plugging his guitar into his reel-to-reel tape recorder. He was always the electrical boffin."

The prime mover in the formation of the group was another Oadby boy they met on nearby Uplands Park, Richard Young. “Richard was at boarding school," recalls Nigel Bullen. “He was always the kid with the expensive bike. He played guitar, and what’s more had a proper electric, with an amplifier. He instigated getting the band together. Initially, we rehearsed in my garage, and then anywhere we could. John played rhythm to begin with. He was a chord man, the John Lennon of the group, if you like."

SWITCH

Despite his later switch to the bass, Deacon’s technique on the guitar also developed, as Dave Williams reveals: “Later on, I remember he could play ‘Classical Gas’ on an acoustic, which was a finger-picking execise and no mean feat. It’s a bit like ‘McArthur Park’, a fantastic piece of music, and when I heard it, I thought, ‘Bloody hell. You dark horse!’ Because he never showed off."

The Opposition’s first bassist was another school friend of John’s called Clive Castledine. In fact, the group made its debut at a party at Castledine’s ouse on 25th September, 1965 (their first public performance took place the...[ ]

...[ ] following month at Gartree’s school hall). Clive looked good and appreciated the kudos of being in a group, but he wasn’t up to even the Opposition’s schoolboy standards. “I was the least proficient, to put it mildly,” he admitted to Mark Hodkinson.“His enthusiasm was 100%,” adds Richard Young, “but his actual playing ability was null, so we had a meeting and got rid of him.” Deacon took over, initially playing on his regular guitar, using the bottom strings. “John was good,” Young continues. “It was no problem for him to switch to bass. He hit the right notes at the beginning of the bar, and we were a better band for it. Whereas Clive made us sound woolly, as anyone who just plonked away on any old note would, John was solid.”

DIARY

Young turned out to be the Opposition’s archivist, keeping a diary of each gig played, the equipment used, and the amounts of money earned (as indeed did John Deacon). Richard’s diary documented the day Deacon — now, of course, bassist in one of the world’s most famous groups — first picked up his chosen instrument. “In an entry for 2nd April, 1966,” says Young, “it reads, ‘We threw Clive out on the Saturday afternoon. Had a practice in Deaks’ kitchen, and Deaks went on bass. Played much better.’ John didn’t have a bass, so we went down to Cox’s music shop in King Street in Leicester, and bought him an EKO bass for £60. I paid for it, but I think he paid me back eventually.”

“John’s bass style with the Opposition was the same as with Queen,” reckons Nigel Bullen. “He never used to play with a plectrum, which was unusual, but with his fingers, which meant that his right hand is drooped over the top of the guitar. Also, he plays in an upward fashion, which I’d never seen before, certainly when we were in Leicester. Over the years, I’ve watched many bass players adopt that style. I’d say he has been copied a lot. I’ve mentioned this to him, but he doesn’t agree.”

Clive Castledine wasn’t the last member of the band to be dismissed. “The vocal and lead guitar side of the Opposition was changing all the while,” recalls Nigel. “Myself, John, and Richard Young were always there — as were Dave Williams and Ron Chester later on — but we had a succession of other musicians who I can hardly remember now. There was a guy called Richard Frew in the very early days, and a young lad called Carl, but he didn’t fit in. After we began playing proper gigs, Richard decided he wasn’t happy with his singing and wanted to move onto keyboards, so we brought in Pete Bart (formerly with another local band, the Rapids Rave) as a guitarist and vocalist. He was good, but again, didn’t last long.”

“Bart was a bit of a rocker, while we were all mods,” remarks Dave Williams. “We were impressed by mod bands like the Small Faces and the original Who. Bart seemed to come from a different era altogether.”

“Deaks had the Parka with the fur collar,” remembers Ron Chester. “And short hair, a crew cut. Mirrors on his scooter.” Richard Young agrees: “John was more of a mod than us. But you couldn’t really pigeonhole the band, because our music went right across the board”.

”Buying Deacon his bass was no one-off, and Richard Young is remembered as the group’s benefactor. Being older than the others, he had a steady job working for his father’s electronics company in Leicester, which brought him a regular, and by all accounts, generous wage. He rarely thought twice before splashing out on equipment for the other members.

RECEIPTS

“Richard bought me a P.A.,” recalls David Williams. “But he didn’t ask, he used to think that the group needed it. He’d buy it and then say, ‘You owe me this’. My mum used to get really annoyed. She’d was at that going- through-my-pockets stage, probably looking for contraceptives. She once found a receipt from Moore and Stanworth’s, a local music shop. It was for a Beyer microphone, which cost about £30. I was still at school, getting pocket money, and my mum said, ‘What on earth is this?!’ Receipts on the Sunday dinner table, that sort of thing. It was good, though. The group needed it.”

“I was dead serious about the band,” claims Young, who switched to organ with the arrival of Williams in July 1966. “Perhaps more so than anybody else. I could see it going nowhere if money wasn’t pumped into it.”

“Dick Young was an accomplished organ player,” adds Dave, “and he improved the group quite a lot. He always had plenty of dosh, and a car. But he was totally mad, a crazy bloke. He’d come round with an organ one week, then next week, he’d have a better one. He ended up with a Farfisa, with one keyboard on it, then one with two keyboards — one above the other. Then he had a Hammond, an L 100. which was really heavy. Then he had a ‘B’ series one. The ‘L’ was top-of-the-range and he sawed it in half to make it easier to carry!”

Dave Williams helped to improve the group as well. “He was at school with us,” says Nigel Bullen, “but in another band, who we always looked up to.” That band was the Leeds-based Outer Limits (who went on to issue several singles — without Dave — in the late ‘60s). “I joined the Opposition after they asked me to watch them and tell them what I thought,” recounts Dave. “The Outer Limits were older lads, all mods, but I was after something a bit more easy going, and the Opposition were my own age. They were okay, but I first saw them at John’s house, when they were still practising in bedrooms, and they were absolutely awful. I said, ‘Have you thought of tuning up?’ They said they had. But it sounded like they were playing in different keys — totally horrendous. It was so funny. They were so conscientious, they’d all learned their bits, but hadn't tuned up to each other. That was my first tip.”

“Our first proper gig was supporting a local band, the Rapids Rave, at Enderby Coop Hall,” recalls Nigel Bullen. “They used to play at this village hall every week. and then we ended up doing it every week for quite some time.” Richard’s diary records the Opposition’s debut taking place on 4th December 1965, and that the band’s fee was £2. Thereafter, they began to offer their Services in the local ‘Oadby & Wigston Advertiser’, which led to bookings in youth clubs and village halls in local hot-spots like Kibworth, Houghton-on- the-Hill, Thurlaston and Great Glen.

SCHOOL WORK

By spring 1966, the Opposition were playing every weekend, school work permitting. The peaks and troughs of their career are illustrated by the following memorable gigs: one at St. George’s Ballroom, Hinckley, on 23rd June 1967, when just two people turned up and the band went home after a couple of numbers; and a September appearance in a series of shows at U.S. Airforce Bases in the Midlands, at which they were required to play for four-and-half hours with just two twenty-minute breaks. It was nothing if not diverse.

“It didn’t seem to matter what you played,” says Dave. “People would clap simply because you were making music. They never said, ‘Do you do Motown, or soul stuff?’ ” The band’s repertoire initially consisted of chart sounds and the poppier end of the R&B spectrum. “Although we were inspired by the Beatles, we never did any of their songs,” claims Nigel. “But we covered the Kinks, the Yardbirds, and things like Them’s ‘Gloria’, and the Zombies’ ‘She’s Not There’.

They also altered their name slightly to the New Opposition, which they unveiled at the Enderby Coop Hall. “The name-change was decided overnight, when John moved from rhythm to bass guitar,” recounts Richard, whose diary records the date of the transition as 29th April 1966. Interestingly, though, it makes no mention of another local group also called the Opposition, long thought to have been the reason for Deacon’s crew adopting the ‘New’. The change did act as an impetus for further development, however, instigated by Dave Williams, who soon took over as the group’s lead vocalist.

“When I joined they were doing all Beach Boys stuff,” he recalls, “and I think I may have brought in a little credibility. In the Outer Limits, I’d been playing John Mayall, the Yardbirds, that sort of thing, plus that group was into really good soul like the Impressions, and fantastic vocal bands from the States. So I had a broad musical knowledge by then, whereas the Opposition had been a bit poppy.” Appropriately, the words “Tamla” and “Soul” were now added to the Opposition’s ads and calling cards.

Towards the end of 1966, the New Opposition were enhanced further by the arrival of Ron Chester, who’d previously played with Dave Williams in the Outer Limits, as well as in an earlier band, the Deerstalkers. “Ron Chester was a bit eccentric,” claims Richard Young. “He never used to go anywhere without his deerstalker. He was a really good guitarist (“stunning”, adds Dave Williams). We were probably at our best when Ron was in the band.”

On 23rd October 1966, the New Opposition entered the local Midland Beat Contest. They won their heat, landing themselves a place in the semifinals on 29th January 1967. They won this, too, and steeled themselves for the finals, which were due to be held on 3rd March 1967, when they were to be pitched against...[ ]

...[ ] an act called Keny. The stars of the show would have been the nearest the Opposition came to having a rival: an outfit called Legay. (A year later, incidentally, this band issued a now collectable single, “No One” (Fontana TF 904,£80J.) Unfortunately, for all concerned, however, the contest never took place. “That was a fiasco,'' laughs Ron. “Somehow we won those heats, but in fact, I don’t remember seeing anybody else playing. I don’t know whether we won by default or not. After that, they pulled the plug on the competition — probably because they knew we’d be playing again!”.

CASINO

“The heats took place in a club in Leicester called the Casino, which was the place to play,” adds Nigel. “The guy who ran the competition was an agent for the club. His company was called Penguin (or P.S) Promotions and he walked like a penguin too, with his feet sticking out. The final was going to be held in the De Montford Hall, which is still the main venue in Leicester. We thought, ‘Crumbs, this is it, perhaps we might make the big time.’ But the guy did a runner with all the money — people had to pay to come to the heats. So the final was called off.”

David Williams wasn’t too fussed, as he scored another prize that night: “I remember taking a girl back to Dick’s car on the strength of us winning our heat. I said, ‘Can I borrow your keys, Dick? He said, ‘What for? You can’t drive!’ “

Were the New Opposition — or the Opposition, as they dropped the ‘New’ again in early 1967 — left in limbo by the cancellation of the Beat Contest? Having achieved the most public recognition of their talents so far, were they disappointed with the loss of the chance to prove themselves further?

“No. It was almost insignificant,” reckons Ron. “We didn’t really look upon it as a stairway to stardom.” And what would John Deacon have thought? “Nothing really,” suggests Chester. “ ‘It’s cancelled. What are we doing next, then?’ That would have been about the depth of it. We were a village band, all gathering at the church hall to try and improve our abilities. The financial aspect of it wasn’t in the forefront of our minds. We were more concerned with our music, and if we could get a booking doing it as well, to pay off some of the equipment, then that was a real bonus. Three bookings a week was enough for us while we were working or still at school.” Despite any dodgy dealings, history does have the Penguin promoter to thank for the only professionally-taken photograph of the Opposition. (“We didn’t go much on photos in the band,” remembers Dave Williams.) On Tuesday, 31st January 1967, two days after winning the semi-finals, the ‘Leicester Mercury’ dispatched a staff photographer over to Richard Young’s parents’ house in Oadby. Here, the group lined-up in the front room, looking more like refugees from 1964, rather than 1967. The only indications of the actual date are perhaps Ron Chester’s deerstalker hat and the ridiculous length of David Williams’ shirt collars — seven inches, no less, from neck to nipple.

“Dave was very extrovert,” recalls Nigel. “But we all had those silk shirts with the great long collars made by our mums and grandmas for our stage gear.” Dave admits: “Our clothes were all a bit mixed up. We had silk shirts with tweed jackets — which were fashionable for a while — and bell-bottoms. Musically, we were pretty good, better than...[ ]

...[ ] most of the local bands around that time, but we had this squeaky-clean, schoolboy image which let us down. I used to get frustrated when we were billed with other bands, and they’d all play with so many wrong chords but had a better image and still the punters applauded. Were they stupid? We were still at school — we didn’t leave until we were eighteen — and weren’t allowed to grow our hair long”.

“After the mod thing,” he continues, “long hair became really important. Bands were growing their hair right down their backs. I remember getting to one gig with John and Nigel a year or so later, and the other group were already on. And when they saw us they turned round and said, ‘Look! They’ve got no hair!’. We were quite upset about that”.

“We also went through the flower-power look,” Dave adds. “And then we got into those little jumpers without any sleeves that Paul McCartney used to wear, the ones so small that half your stomach showed. And then it was grandad shirts without the collars and flares.” Ron Chester: “The flowery shirts and flared trousers were everywhere. We looked like a right shower of poofters. But so did everybody else. You stood out if you didn’t wear them.”

1967 also heralded the arrival of an additional attraction to the Opposition’s stage show: two go-go dancers. At least, it did if the existing literature on the subject is to be believed. “I vaguely remember it,” admits Richard, “but speaking to Nig, neither of us can recal who those dancers were”.

Dave Williams throws some light on the subject: “They were the jet-set girls of the sixth form, they came from the big houses. They came to a couple of gigs and just started dancing. Somebody who booked us for the following week actually advertised us ‘with go-go girls’. But they were never really part of the show.”

ART

On 16th March, 1968 for a gig at Gartree School, the Opposition changed their name once again. “We called ourselves Art,” reveals Nigel, “because Dave was arty, that is, he was training as an artist. It was as simple as that.” Dave agrees: “It was my idea, because I’d been doing art at school.” Nigel Bullen was aware of another band using that name around the same time (the pre-Spooky Tooth outfit), but assuming them to be American, reckoned they’d be no confusion. As the Leicester-based Art never made it to London, there wasn’t.

Despite wording like “A time to touch and feel, to taste and experience, to hear and understand” appearing on the group’s tickets, Richard maintains that Art was “just the same band” as before. “Nothing changed."

“It was mutton dressed up as lamb, really,” admits Ron Chester. “We thought if we were called something different, people might come because they were curious. But it didn’t make a lot of difference. The audiences were captive at the places we played anyway. There was nowhere else to go on a Friday or Saturday night. Everyone used to roll up to see whoever was on, whether they’d heard of them or not.”

1968 was the year psychedelia caught up with many provincial British bands. The Art were no different, but their acknowledgement of what had been last year’s scene in London was via sight rather than sound. Their light shows seem to have been particularly memorable, as Dave Williams explains: “They were brilliant. We used the projectors from school, filled medicine bottles with water and oil, and projected through them to get this lovely golden, amber backdrop. As the image came out upside down, when we poured in some Fairy Liquid, it dropped straight through in a blob, but came out on the wall like a giant green mushroom cloud. It was amazing, and we had about four of them at the back, projecting over the band.”

John Deacon was party to another of Dave’s exploits. “One day,” recalls Williams, “John and I bought a 100-watt P.A. — which was pretty big for those days — and took it into the lecture theatre full of kids at Beauchamp School (which Deacon had attended since September 1966) for our version of Arthur Brown’s ‘Fire’. We cranked it up as loud as we could, put the light show on, and let off these smoke bombs, which were DDT pellets we’d got from the chemist. All the kids started choking, and then the headmaster walked in...[ ]

...[ ] with a load of governors. You could see the fury in his face. One of the governors asked what we were doing. ‘It’s a demonstration in sound and light, sir,’ I said. ‘We’re using these ink bottles turned upside down, but we’re a bit worried about these DDT pellets so we might knock the smoke on the head, but we’re still experimenting.’ And he fell for it!”.

INFLUENTIAL

Towards the end of 1968, a crop of new groups began to have a profound effect on the maturing schoolboys: Jethro Tull, the Nice, Taste, and in particular Deep Purple. Ron: “We used to buy Purple records and learn to play them. We’d seen John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers and the Downliners’ Sect in Leicester, the Nice, King Crimson. These sort of groups. We learned a lot from just watching them. They were influential. There was always a big discussion in the band as to whether we should do a particular song. Once we’d decided that, there’d be another big discussion as to how we should do it. Everybody had their say.”

Hair, too, had finally began to grow: “John grew his quite long,” recalls Ron. “We all had longish hair, but not shoulder length. We couldn’t look too unkempt for the normal side of life, but we didn’t want to be too prissy for the other end of the spectrum. That was when we started playing universities, and we went a bit heavier. The audiences were far more serious minded about music and more enthusiastic. In some of the youth clubs we’d been playing, the audience would be moving around on roller skates, or peeling bananas all over the place, things like that”.

“We felt we were making an impression towards the last year or two of the band,” he continues. But it went no further: “We were at school, some of us had jobs, and there was an element of common sense overriding what we would have liked to have done. None of us wanted to chuck in our apprenticeships or courses. If we’d had a flair for writing our own material, we might have taken off. But we just played what was popular, nothing different from most other groups. That wasn’t a basis on which to launch ourselves. So it never happened."

“We didn’t think that far ahead,” admits Richard Young. “I just thought of playing and getting repeat bookings. John was probably the least ambitious of all of us, to be honest. I think he felt that there was no mileage in what we were doing, although it was good fun. I think he had the impression that this was a hobby, a phase he was going through.”

Sometime in the Sixties, possibly 1969, but maybe earlier, Art recorded an acetate. Whatever the date, the crucial point is that John Deacon was present at the session. “We weren't asked to do it,” recalls Nigel. “We just wanted to make a disc. I think it cost us about five shillings.”

The venue was Beck’s studio, thirty miles south east of Oadby in Wellingborough, Northamptonshire. “I’d never been in a studio before and it seemed awesome, really,” recalls Dave Williams. “It was a fairly decent-sized room for acoustics. It was all nicely low-lit, with lots of screens. The guy knew what he was doing.” Richard Young was less impressed, though: I’ve been in studios all my life,” he says. “That was just another session. Nothing about it stood out.”

The “guy” Dave remembered was engineer Derek Tomkins, who informed the group that they could record three tracks in the time allotted. “We’d only gone in there with two, ‘Sunny’ and ‘Vehicle’,” says Nigel, “and we didn’t want to waste the opportunity, so Richard knocked up a little instrumental called Transit 3’ — named after our new van, the third one — right there in the studio. Although we were purely a covers band, everybody had a bash at writing, but we never did anything of our own on stage. The exception was Transit 3’, which was incorporated into the set after this session.”

“ Transit 3’ was about about the only track we ever wrote," reckons Richard Young (“Heart Full Of Soul”, as reported in ‘As It Began’, is in fact a Graham Gouldman nurnber). “I initially had the idea, but I can’t really remember anything about it. It’s very basic. It wouldn’t take a great deal of effort to write something like that.” To the objective observer, “Transit 3”, taped in mono but well recorded, is a fairly uncomplicated, organ-led scale- hopper, reminiscent of Booker T & the MGs.

“Everybody was listening to ‘Green Onions’,” confirms Nigel, “so Booker T would have been an influence there.” But for all that, it’s well- played, with memorable lead and twangy, wah-wah guitar passages courtesy of Dave Williams. And, crucially, John Deacon’s thumping bass is plainly audible throughout. On this evidence, the Opposition were clearly a tight, confident outfit. “Transit 3” could have been incorporated into any swinging ‘60s film soundtrack, and no one would have jumped up shouting, “Amateurs”!.

UNFAMILIAR

The other two tracks, covers of Bobby Hebb’s ‘Sunny' and the more obscure, soul- tinged ‘Vehicle’ (later a hit for the Ides of March), featured a vocalist, but an unfamiliar one: another of the Opposition’s fleeting frontmen. “We had a singer for a while called Alan Brown,” recalls Nigel. “He came and went fairly quickly. He was good, really good. Too good for us, I think. That wasn’t him saying that. We just knew it.”

On both songs, Brown is in deep, soulful voice, sounding not unlike a cross between Tom Jones and the early Van Morrison — if such an amalgam can be imagined. The Art’s reading of “Vehicle” is edgy and robust, dominated by Richard Young’s distinctive keyboards and Nigel Bullen’s bustling drum work. Dave Williams is again in fine form, delivering more sparkling wah-wah guitar, while on the cassette copy taped from Nigel Bullen’s acetate, at least, John’s bass is very prominent, over-recorded in fact, booming in the mix.

“Sunny” goes one better, breaking into jazzy 3/4 time halfway through, before slotting back into the more traditional 4/4. It’s an imaginative arrangement, with alternate soloing from both Dave and Richard, while the whole track is underpinned by swirls of Hammond organ and John Deacon’s pounding bass.

“We did ‘Sunny’ as part of our stage set,” says Nigel, “but I don’t recall us ever going into the jazzy bit. That’s quite interesting. We might have talked about that before we went into the studio, but I think it was just for this session. Dave had two guitars, a six-string and a twelve-string, or it could even have been twin-necked. I still quite like the wah-wah he played on that track. By this time Richard would have been onto his second or third organ — he was heavily into Hammonds and Leslies."

Operating as they did in a fairly ambition- free zone, and having prepared the listener for a mundane set of recordings with their trademark laid-back approach, Art’s acetate comes as something of a revelation. Let any bunch of today’s schoolboys loose in a studio for an afternoon and defy them to come up with something half as good!

Just two copies of the Art disc are known to have survived. John Deacon’s mother is believed to own one and Nigel Bullen has the other. “I’d forgotten all about this record,” admits Nigel. “We know that one copy was converted to an ashtray!. We stubbed out cigarettes on Richards at rehearsal one night.” Although treated with anything but respect at the time, the importance of the disc is now apparent to Nigel Bullen: “This is probably John Deacon’s first recording, apart from tracks he did in his bedroom on his reel-to-...[ ]

...[ ] reel, which are probably long gone. Although, knowing John, they’re probably not!”

The beginning of the end for Art came in June 1969, when John Deacon left Beauchamp. With a college course lined up in London, his days with the band were obviously numbered. He played his final gig with the group on 29th August at a familiar venue, Great Glen Youth and Sports Centre Club. By October, he’d moved to London to study electronics at Chelsea College of Technology, part of the University of London.

Another blow was dealt in November, when the band's lynchpin, Richard Young, left to join popular local musician Steve Fearn in Fearn’s Brass Foundry.

“They were a Blood, Sweat and Tears-type of group,” recalls Richard, “and paid better money than I’d been used to. I was out five nights a week, on about £3 per night, against an average of about £10 between us.” The previous year, Richard had played session keyboards on the Foundry’s two Decca singles: “Don’t Change It” (F 12721, January 1968, £10) and “Now I Taste The Tears” (F 12835. September 1968, £8).

SAVAGE

Ron Chester departed shortly afterwards, and gave up music: “I left in the early 70s, after John Deacon moved to London. John was replaced by a bass player was called John Savage, who unsettled me. He had different tastes and drove us a bit hard. His approach was totally different from Deaks's, and he was much more interested in the financial side of things. We’d all been mates before, we didn't just knock about for the band. It just wasn’t the same.”

Nigel, Richard and Dave pushed on into 1970 with the new bassist, changing the band’s name again, this time to Silky Way. They returned to Beck’s studio to record a cover of Free’s “Loosen Up” with another vocalist, Bill Gardener, but that was the band’s last effort. Dave left after falling into Nigel’s drumkit, drunk on stage at a private party one Christmas. “I waited for them to pick me up the next day,” he recalls sheepishly, “but they never carne.”

Richard and Nigel moved into a dinner- dance type outfit called the Lady Jane Trio — “Corny, or what!”, laughs Bullen — but Nigel left music altogether soon afterwards to concentrate on his college work. Richard turned professional, moving into cabaret with the Steve Fearn-less Brass Foundry, before forming a trio called Rio, finding regular work on the holiday camp and overseas cruise circuit. In the late ‘70s, he joined a touring version of the Love Affair.

Down in London, John Deacon caught a glimpse of his future world-beating musical partners as early as October 1970, when he saw the newly-formed Queen perform at College of Estate Management in Kensington. “They were all dressed in black, and the lights were very dim too,” he told Jim Jenkins and Jacky Gunn in ‘As It Began’, “All I could really see were four shadowy figures. They didn’t make a lasting impression on me at the time.”

While renting rooms in Queensgate, John formed a loose R&B quartet with a flatmate, guitarist Peter Stoddart, one Don Cater on drums and another guitarist remembered only as Albert. The new band was hardlv a great leap forward from Art: they wrote no originals, and when asked to perform their only gig at Chelsea College on 21st November 1970, supporting Hardin & York and the Idle Race, they hastily billed themselves — in a rare fit of self-publicity for the quiet Oadby boy — as Deacon.

A few months later in early 1971, John was introduced to Brian May and Roger Taylor by a mutual friend, Christine Farnell, at a disco at Maria Assumpta Teacher Training College. They were looking for a bassist. John auditioned at Imperial College shortly afterwards. Roger Taylor recalled Queen’s initial reaction to Deacon in ‘As It Began’: “We thought he was great. We were so used to each other, and so over the top, we thought that because he was quiet he would fit in with us without too much upheaval. He was a great bass player, too — and the fact that he was a wizard with electronics was definitely a deciding factor!”

How did the members of the Art/Opposition back in Leicester, view John’s success with Queen? “It wasn’t sudden”, says Ron Chester. “First we heard he’d got into another group. We couldn’t believe that — were they deaf? There were all these sort of jokes going along. Then we heard he’d got a recording contract and the next thing he had a record out. It was a gradual progression. No one dreamed he would end up the way he did.”

“I don’t think we expected success for any of us" admits Nigel Bullen. “Richard maybe. He was the first one to go professional. But when John left for London to go to college, he left all his kit here. I thought that was the end of it for him. He had absolutely no intention of continuing. His college course was No.1. It was only after he kept seeing adverts for bass players in the ‘Melody Maker’ that he became interested again.”

He also seemed to lose some of that ‘Easy Deacon’ touch which so impressed Dave Williams in the ‘60s. ��He’d ring up these bands,” continues Nigel, “but when he found they were a name act, he bottle out. When he went to auditions for anonymous bands, where he would queue up with about thirty other bass players, he had a bit of confidence. He just wanted to play in a decent band. Once I heard what Queen had recorded at De Lane Lea, and John played me the demo of their first album, I thought they were well set.”

CABARET

By early 1973, Dave Williams had forsaken a career in animation to join Highly Likely, a cabaret outfit put together by Mike Hugg and producer Dave Hadfield on the back of their minor hit, “Whatever Happened To You (The Likely Lads Theme)”. While Dave was in the band, they recorded a follow-up single which wasn’t released, before evolving into a glam rock outfit, Razzle, which later become the Ritz, who issued a few singles. “During Queen’s early days, before they’d had any real success, John came to see us once,” recalls Dave, “and said, ‘I wish I was in a band like this which could actually play some gigs’.” Dave concludes: “I remember John coming round once around that time, saying I’ve got a demo’. ‘So have I!’, I said. So we put his on first, and the first track was ‘Keep Yourself Alive’. My mouth dropped wide open and I thought. ‘Bloody hell! What a great track’. I remember saying that the guitarist was as good as Ritchie Blackmore — who was still our hero then — and thinking ‘They’re serious about this. This is the real thing’.”

RECORD COLLECTOR Nº 198 FEBRUARY 1996

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#Queen Before Queen #Pre-Queen Series #John Deacon #The Opposition #🎤🎵🎸👑⭐

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

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Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 1

So, I started this on my Wattpad, and if figured I'd just put it on here! Just tell me if you want me to add you to the taglist!

Percy's POV

My name is Percy Jackson.

I am twelve years old. I'm a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York, and my sister, (Y/n), taking online schooling at home.

Am I a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan—twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

I know—it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were.

But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep.

I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble.

See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course, I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that...Well, you get the idea.

On this trip, I was determined to be good.

All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwiches that stuck in his curly brown hair, and she knew I couldn't do anything back to her because I was already on probation. The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.

"I'm going to kill her," I mumble.

Grover tries to calm me down. "I'm okay. I like peanut butter -" He dodges another piece of Nancy's lunch.

"That's it." I start to get up, but Grover pulls me back to my seat.

"You're already on probation," he reminds me. "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."

Mr. Brunner leads the museum tour.

He rides up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery.

It blows my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years.

He gathers us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and starts telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown.

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured I was devil spawn. She would point her crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month.

One time, after she'd made me erase answers out of old math workbooks until midnight, I told Grover I didn't think Mrs. Dodds was human. He looked at me, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."

Mr. Brunner keeps talking about Greek funeral art.

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickers something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turn around and say, "Will you shut up?"

It comes out louder than I meant it to.

The whole group laughs. Mr. Brunner stops his story. "Mr. Jackson," he says, "did you have a comment?"

My face is totally red, I think. I answer, "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner points to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

I look at the carving, and feel a flush of relief, because I actually recognize it. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Brunner says, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because..."

"Well..." I rack my brain to remember. (Y/n) would have known the answer. She was nuts for this kind of stuff. "Kronos was the king god, and —"

"God?" Mr. Brunner asks.

"Titan," I correct myself. "And...he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—"

"Eeew!" says one of the girls behind me.

"—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," I continue, "and the gods won."

Some snickers from the group.

Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbles to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner says, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover mutters.

"Shut up," Nancy hisses, her face even brighter red than her hair.

At least Nancy got packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears.

I think about his question, and shrug. "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looks disappointed. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifts off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. Jackson."

I knew that was coming.

I tell Grover to keep going; then I turn toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?" Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go—intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything. "You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner tells me.

"About the Titans?"

'"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."

"What you learn from me," he says, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!" and challenged us, swordpoint against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C– in my life. No—he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I mumble something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner takes one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He tells me to go outside and eat my lunch.

The class gathers on the front steps of the museum, where we can watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm is brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figure maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seems to notice, though. Some of the guys are pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit is trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds isn't seeing a thing.

Grover and I sit on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school—the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

"Detention?" Grover asked.

"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius, not like (Y/n). She seems to know everything."

Grover doesn't say anything for a while. Then, when I think he is going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he asks, "Can I have your apple?"

I don't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.

I watch the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and think about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sit. I hadn't seen her or my sister since Christmas. I want so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. Mom and (Y/n) would hug me and be glad to see me, but Mom would be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I couldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized café table.

I am about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appears in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumps her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grins at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles are orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.

I try to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." But I am so mad my mind went blank. A wave roars in my ears.

I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy is sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—"

"—the water—"

"—like it grabbed her—"

I don't know what they were talking about. All I know is that I was in trouble again.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds is sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turns on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—"

"I know," I grumble. "A month erasing workbooks." That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds says.

"Wait!" Grover yelps. "It was me. I pushed her."

I stare at him, stunned. I can't believe he was trying to cover for me. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.

She glares at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she says.

"But—"

"You—will—stay—here."

Grover looks at me desperately.

"It's okay, man," I tell him. "Thanks for trying."

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barks at me. "Now."

Nancy Bobofit smirks. I give her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare. Then I turn to face Mrs. Dodds, but she isn't there. She is standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

How'd she get there so fast?

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn't so sure. I go after Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, I glance back at Grover. He is looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner is absorbed in his novel.

I look back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She is now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

Okay, I think. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop.

But apparently, that wasn't the plan.

I follow her deeper into the museum. When I finally catch up to her, we are back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery is empty.

Mrs. Dodds stands with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She is making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze as if she wanted to pulverize it...

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she says.

I do the safe thing. I reply, "Yes, ma'am."

She tugs on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

The look in her eyes is beyond mad. It was evil.

She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt me. I say, "I'll—I'll try harder, ma'am."

Thunder shakes the building.

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

I didn't know what she's talking about.

All I can think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

"Well?" she demands.

"Ma'am, I don't..."

"Your time is up," she hisses.

Then the weirdest thing happens. Her eyes begin to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretch, turning into talons. Her jacket melts into large, leathery wings. She isn't human. She is a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheels his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy!" he shouts and tosses the pen through the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunges at me.

With a yelp, I dodge and feel talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatch the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hits my hand, it isn;t a pen anymore. It is a sword—Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always uses on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spins towards me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees are jelly. My hands are shaking so bad I almost drop the sword.

She snarl, "Die, honey!" And she flies straight at me.

Absolute terror runs through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swing the sword.

The metal blade hits her shoulder and passes clean through her body as if she was made of water. Hisss!

Mrs. Dodds was a sandcastle in a power fan. She explodes into yellow powder, vaporizing on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes are still watching me.

I'm alone.

There is a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner isn't there. Nobody is there but me.

My hands are still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I walk back outside.

It had started to rain.

Grover is sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit is still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she sees me, she says, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

I answer, "Who?"

"Our teacher. Duh!"

I blink. We don't have a teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I ask Nancy what she is talking about.

She just rolls her eyes and turns away.

I ask Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

"Who?" he asks, but he pauses first and he wouldn't look at me, so I figure he was messing with me.

"Not funny, man," I tell him. "This is serious."

Thunder booms overhead.

I see Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book as if he'd never moved.

I go over to him.

He looks up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

I had Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it.

"Sir," I ask, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stares blankly at me, "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowns and sits forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

Word Count: 3159 words

So yeah, this is the first chapter of this book.

Not much (Y/n) yet, but we'll get there.

Love y'all! Kaitlynn ❤️😍

#percy jackson x sister reader #sally jackson x daugther reader #demigod reader #fem reader #reader insert #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the lightning thief reader insert #percy jackson and the battle of the labyrinth #percy jackson and the titans curse #percy jackson and the lightning thief #percy jackson and the greek gods #percy jackson and the sea of monsters #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians reader insert

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trans-cuchulainn · 3 years

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What are the major details that confused you about the Hound blurb? The major one that stood put to me was the "way of the farmer opposed to the sword" thing which felt very...un-Cú Chulainn. Also, if you don't mind expanding further, which details didn't you question/be confused by?

and also for anon:

okay so it is like. 2am so there are not going to be any sources here but i can't sleep so here goes!! i will go through this blurb line by line and give youse my thoughts

In 50 BCE,

reasonable. this is roughly the right time period for when the ulster cycle is set. maybe marginally earlier than i'd place cú chulainn, but i'm talking a few years, nothing to get worked up about.

Morrigan, the goddess of war,

fine. normally i'm wary of pantheonising impulses with regard to irish characters (almost none of them can be identified as a god of anything in particular, it doesn't work like that) but tbh the morrigan is like, the most plausible exception to that, so whatever. normally her name has the definite article attached to it because it's kind of a species term as well but whatevs.

has become restless as a long-lasting peace settles over Ireland.

dubious. closest i can think of to peace being reference in any texts is togail bruidne da derga talking about conaire mor's reign being like, prosperous and peaceful and whatever, and even there you've got díberg (plundering/reaving) which is what eventually fucks him over and starts the otherworldly hell spiral situation. that's roughly the right period here but conaire's doom proves you don't have to do much to nudge peace into war, and connacht and ulster are at each other's throats for years before cú chulainn comes on the scene anyway

Deciding the time of peace must end, she chooses Setanta, the nephew of the king of the north, to become her ward.

hmm. i mean. like, this isn't the WEIRDEST choice they could have made. it's still completely made-up, don't get me wrong -- cú chulainn has a lot of different foster parents in different texts and they don't agree with each other but none of them ever mentions the morrígan. but like, they do have a connection of some sort, as evidenced by their conversations. and there's that one moment in the r1 boyhood deeds where little cú chulainn is out on the battlefield and hears her (not sure which name is used here) calling out to him and it like. motivates him to do some deeds or whatever, and i guess you could extrapolate that into some kind of teaching capacity.

so like. could be weirder. if you're gonna pick anyone, you could do worse. still seems weird to me! but not on its own a major issue, i could get past this and consider it a Fun But Unorthodox Creative Decision

(the fact that she tries to seduce him in the táin probably wouldn't get in the way of this considering sleeping with his teachers/foster-mothers is far from unheard of where cú chulainn is concerned)

After a young Setanta slays the demon-hound of Cullan, he becomes known as Cú Cullan—The Hound of Cullan.

weird spelling choices, they could have at least bothered to use the genitive properly. also the hound isn't a demon, it's a ferocious watchdog -- making it sound all Otherworldly and Hellish like this kinda confuses the issue of why he would need to take its place. he needs to take its place because the cattle and people still need protecting because it is a watchdog!! but whatevs, again, it's a brief summary so they can't exactly give us all the details and this is not actively objectionable

As Cú Cullan grows older, it is apparent that an extraordinary power lies within him … and a great darkness.

ugh boring. this makes it sound like he's going to be ~tortured~ and angsty about it. give me an unapologetic murder teen please. is the ríastrad dark? sure i guess, if you're going to be boring about it. it's more like, grotesque neon in my head

When he chooses the quiet life of a farmer over the sword,

this would fucking never happen on like five different levels. obviously like anyone who has ever read anything about cú chulainn can see that this is not in his nature. he is never going to choose a quiet life. this is the kid who tricked his way into taking arms before everyone thought he was ready. also juxtaposed with the "darkness" comment makes it sound like he would Angst his way into this quiet life which. again. have you seen this kid. he is an unapologetic murder teen

the only thing i can think of that might make him temporarily want to walk away is connla's death which... depends where you position that in the timeline really, he does seem a bit fucked up by it and maybe he'd want a holiday although i can see that lasting precisely 5 minutes before someone pissed him off enough for him to murder them. but if he's being raised by the morrígan i can't see him going to train with scáthach so then he'd never meet aífe and therefore connla would never be born so that wouldn't happen. so like. whatever.

but also like. he would not become a farmer. he just wouldn't! it doesn't work! the ireland of the stories is super hierarchical, right? and this blurb has already fucking told us that he's the king's nephew (canon) so we can tell that being a farmer is Not His Place. when we see upper class figures becoming menial labourers in texts, like in cath maige tuired, it's because Things Are Fucked, Shit's Gone Wrong. people don't just decide to change their entire social class on a whim lmfao

if cú chulainn really wanted to turn his back on being a warrior he could probably make recourse to certain other Suitable Professions ... his grandad's a druid so he might have a route into that, though his dad's not so that might fuck things up a bit bc it's one of those things that's usually inherited. he does give "wisdom" in at least one text though and we also know he can write (he carves riddles in ogham in the táin) and he composes verses on various occasions so idk, maybe something in a poetic direction, though again, usually requires two generations of inheritance to be a real poet and not just a lower-class bard. warrior's kinda the main thing he's got open to him tbh. but farming? i'm not a legal expert but as far as i'm aware based on what i have read, that would fuck shit up

more likely an upset cú chulainn would just go off in search of an adventure somewhere conveniently far away until he'd calmed down (alba, or the tyrrhenian sea, or -- if we're going to get early modern about it -- somewhere like india, which frequently gets thrown into the texts with absolutely no cultural context and it's always hilarious)

Morrigan, angry at the betrayal,

of the entire social order, yes,

instigates an invasion of his homeland

i mean. if they intend this to be the táin then.... táin bó regamna does kinda make the morrígan responsible for it? not in the sense of triggering the pillow talk argument that it's in the book of leinster -- it's her getting up to her usual cow-nicking behaviours for shits and giggles. [note to readers: it is probably for more than shits and giggles but did i mention it's 2am]

but all in all, not particularly out of character that she would be at least some way responsible for this so i can vibe with this. echtra nerai also supports the TBR explanation with her fucking around with otherworldly cows and pissing people off so, yeah, whatever. the morrígan engineered this. sure.

and Cú Cullan must challenge fate itself

this is probably a controversial stance but fate feels like a difficult concept to apply to medieval irish texts. like are people sometimes Doomed? yes. there are prophecies, there are gessi, there's all manner of otherworldly fuckery that can trip you up. is that the same thing as fate? no idea. considering cú chulainn comes out alive from the táin though and his doom prophecies don't catch up to him for like, at least another decade, maybe 16 years depending on who you listen to, hard to see how that would apply here

to keep the goddess at bay.

again like she IS causing fuckery in the táin but also it's like... one time. really not the main character. but she or maybe just some crows, hard to say, do get implicated in the death tale so maybe they're doing what people often do and conflating the two? even though there's like 10-16 years in between them?

anyway as you can see i don’t think it’s wholly terrible / i’m not completely thinkshaming it. like, having cú chulainn raised by the morrígan is unorthodox but it could be a fun and creative direction so i don't object to it. making cú chulainn get sad about murder and choose to be a farmer is just fucking laughable tho, and makes me doubt their characterisations in general. so that's offputting and would probably make me think twice about buying it, if that had ever been on the cards.*

and of course sure, their cú chulainn can be a Sad Boy Who Likes Sheep, but that means he's not the cú chulainn of medieval irish lit / irish myth, because that cú chulainn is a feral murder teen who keeps killing his friends and also is way too high social status to ever be a farmer, and whose only relationship to livestock is as the watchdog who kills anyone trying to harm them (which is an important role on a farm! but like. not the same thing as Being A Farmer. mostly because it involves more murder and is essentially just an extension of his role as a warrior. or rather the other way around. he promises to protect mag muirthemne as a watchdog and this like. gets extended into him becoming its sole defender)

this has been my analysis of this blurb i hope you enjoyed it

it's now 2.30am i should try and sleep now that i've exorcised a few thoughts from my head

*as i mentioned in the tags of my other post, i don't tend to read graphic novels due to disability stuff. they're much harder for me to understand and follow than prose, to the point where some are incomprehensible, so i don't really enjoy them. there are a few i've read, but they tend to be short ones, and i'm usually not reading them in order, just admiring the art separately from the text. so it's unlikely i would read a graphic novel of this size anyway.

#cu chulainn #hound #hound graphic novel #answered #oddnub-eye #anonymous #irish mythology #medieval irish #tain bo cuailnge

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rwhague · 3 years

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BRINGING BACK THAT LOVING FEELING . . . ABOUT BOOKS!

A READING SPECIALIST AND DYSLEXIA THERAPIST'S TAKE ON WHY KIDS STOP READING

A Guest Blog by Cheryl King

After 13 years working with mostly struggling readers in some capacity, I have learned and used a plethora of before-, during-, and after-reading strategies, activities, and lessons. And I’m absolutely certain that at least some of them have made an impact on my students.

At this very moment, there must be a group of former students sitting around a reading circle and saying, “Hey, remember when Mrs. King taught us ‘Say Something’?” (Hat tip Kylene Beers, whose literacy expertise has kept my toolbox filled to the brim with fantastic resources.) Or there’s a young lady in a college writing course thinking, “Mrs. King was so right when she told us to read like a writer and write like a reader.” (I honestly can’t remember where I first learned this, but it has spread like wildfire in the world of literacy education.) And most definitely, somewhere there are young men who years ago claimed to be nonreaders and are now saying, “Man, I’m so glad Mrs. King had us do the ‘Tea Party’ before-reading strategy and then taught us Notice & Note.” (Again, hat tip Kylene Beers, and add in Bob Probst.)

No doubt these strategies, plus dozens more, are important when teaching struggling readers, but it’s unlikely any of those fantasy conversations are actually taking place. However, there is something else that may truly make a difference in young readers’ (and nonreaders’) lives. One of the common threads I’ve found as a literacy educator working in public schools is that around sixth grade, many students stop reading for pleasure. Even my eldest son, who grew up with his nose in a book and has never struggled with reading, dropped off of the Reading Is Fun bandwagon between sixth and seventh grade. When pressed for reasons, he always answered that school took the fun out of reading. With standardized reading passages and forced analyzing a story to death, it’s no wonder. But if that’s happening to strong readers, imagine the plummeting interest in pleasure reading of not-so-strong readers.

With this knowledge, one of my topmost goals each year in the classroom was to help bring back the love of reading for middle-school-aged kids. I studied and listened to and read such greats as Penny Kittle and Kelly Gallagher, I researched and learned and tried so many methods to achieving this goal, and I’d like to share three ideas:

1. Book talks and read-alouds

There is almost nothing that gets kids as excited about a book as when their teacher (or librarian or any family member) talks it up. Read an excerpt from your favorite part and tell them why you love it. Whenever I did this in the classroom, students were lined up to check out the book. And don’t be fooled – even teenagers enjoy being read to, though they may deny it. One of my favorite trends from the past few years is Classroom-Book-A-Day, which builds community in the classroom with a pleasure reading of a picture book each day.

2. Make it fun

Anything is better for kids if you turn it into a game. There is a reading game I found online called Bring Your Own Book. Everyone grabs a book, and you draw a card and read it out loud. The card may say something like, “A line from a teenager’s diary” or “A sentence in a fortune cookie,” and everyone flips through their book and skims for something that fits. They now have additional versions of the game, including a Scholastic one for younger readers.

3. Exposure, exposure, exposure It’s important to give kids exposure to a wide variety of reading material, from all genres of fiction to graphic novels to informational texts. One of the ways I loved to do this was to have a “Book Tasting.” I set up my classroom like a restaurant, and on the menu were collections of books of all types and reading levels. Kids got a few minutes at each table to sample the selections and write down their thoughts. In the end they had a bookmark with their top choices to refer to for independent reading time or library visits.

There are myriad other ways to get kids excited about reading, but these have been the biggest hits for me. Now maybe my former students will pick up my debut novel, Sitting on Top of the World, read it, enjoy it, and say, “Hey, remember when Mrs. King taught us that cool annotation strategy?”

Sitting on Top of the World releases June 15 and is available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Check out her author website, Cheryl King Writes Things and her TeachersPayTeachers!

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collegeburnoutsuperstar · 5 years

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Social Distancing Book Recs

I’ve been getting tons of book recommendations from friends and family to help get through social distancing/self-quarantine, so I thought I should share some of my favorite books with everybody!

Horror/Apocalyptic: *all books are ADULT*

- The Stand by Stephen King “This is the way the world ends: with a nanosecond of computer error in a Defense Department laboratory and a million casual contacts that form the links in a chain letter of death. And here is the bleak new world of the day after: a world stripped of its institutions and emptied of 99 percent of its people. A world in which a handful of panicky survivors choose sides -- or are chosen” (Goodreads Summary).

- Inferno by Dan Brown “Harvard professor of symbology Robert Langdon awakens in an Italian hospital, disorientated and with no recollection of the past thirty-six hours, including the origin of the macabre object hidden in his belongings. With a relentless female assassin tailing them through Florence, he and his resourceful doctor, Sienna Brooks, are forced to flee. Embarking on a harrowing journey, they must unravel a series of codes, which are the work of a brilliant scientist whose obsession with the end of the world is matched only by his passion for one of the most influential masterpieces ever written, Dante Alighieri’s The Inferno” (Goodreads Summary).

- World War Z by Max Brooks “The Zombie War came unthinkably close to eradicating humanity. Max Brooks, driven by the urgency of preserving the acid-etched first-hand experiences of the survivors from those apocalyptic years, traveled across the United States of America and throughout the world, form decimated cities that once teemed with upwards of thirty million souls to the most remote and inhospitable areas of the planet. He recorded the testimony of men, women, and sometimes children who came face-to-face with the living, or at least the undead, hell of that dreadful time. World War Z is the result. Never before have we had access to a document that so powerfully conveys the depth of fear and horror, and also the ineradicable spirit of resistance, that gripped human society through the plague years” (Goodreads summary).

- It by Stephen King “It’s a small city, a place as hauntingly familiar as your own hometown. Only in Derry the haunting is real... They were seven teenagers when they first stumbled upon the horror. Now they are grown-up men and women who have gone out into the big world to gain success and happiness. But none of them can withstand the force that has drawn them back to Derry to face the nightmare without an end, and the evil without a name” (Goodreads summary).

- The Shining by Stephen King “Jack Torrance’s new job at the Overlook Hotel is the perfect chance for a fresh start. As the off-season caretaker at the atmospheric old hotel, he’ll have plenty of time to spend reconnecting with his family and working on his writing. But as the harsh winter weather sets in, the idyllic locations feels ever more remote... and more sinister. And the only one to notice the strange and terrible forces gathering around the Overlook is Danny Torrance, a uniquely gifted five-year-old” (Goodreads summary).

- House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski “[House of Leaves] focuses on a young family that moves into a small home on Ash Tree Lane where they discover something is terribly wrong: their house is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. Of course, neither Pulitzer Prize-winning photojournalist Will Navidson nor his companion Karen Green was prepared to face the consequences of the impossibility, until the day their two little children wandered off and their voices eerily began to return another story -- of creature darkness, of an ever-growing abyss behind a closet door, and of the unholy growl which soon enough would tear through their walls and consume all their dreams” (Goodreads summary).

Comedy:

- Good Omens by Neil Gaimen and Terry Pratchett “People have been predicting the end of the world almost from its very beginning, so it’s only natural to be skeptical when a new date is set for Judgement Day. But what if, for once, the predictions are right, and the apocalypse really is due to arrive next Saturday, just after tea? You could spend the time left drowning your sorrows, giving away all your possessions in preparation for the rapture, or laughing it off as (hopefully) just another hoax. Or you could just try to do something about it. It’s a predicament that Aziraphale, a somewhat fussy angel, and Crowley, a fast-living demon now finds themselves in. They’ve been living amongst Earth’s mortals since The Beginning and, truth be told, have grown rather fond of the lifestyle and, in all honesty, are not actually looking forward to the coming Apocalypse. And then there’s the small matter that someone appears to have misplaced the Antichrist... “ (Goodreads summary).

- Dad Is Fat by Jim Gaffigan *PG-13* Dad is Fat is a comedic memoir that details Jim Gaffigan’s life growing up in a large Catholic family to his experiences as a husband and father (specifically parenting his five young children while living in a tiny walk-up apartment in New York). I highly recommend the audiobook (which is narrated by Jim Gaffigan), my family and I always listen to it during road trips. It never stops being funny.

- Bored of the Rings: A Parody of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings by The Harvard Lampoon *ADULT* “A quest, a war, a ring that would be grounds for calling any wedding off, a king without a kingdom, and a little, furry ‘hero’ named Frito, ready -- or maybe just forced by the wizard of Goodgulf-- to undertake the one mission which can save Lower Middle Earth from enslavement by the evil Sorhed… Luscious Elfmaidens, a roller-skating dragon, ugly plants that can soul-kiss the unwary to death-- these are just some of the ingredients in the wildest, wackiest, most irreverent excursion into fantasy realms that anyone has ever dared to undertake” (Goodreads summary).

Middle-Grade:

- Percy Jackson and the Olympians series by Rick Riordan (book 1: The Lightning Thief) “Percy Jackson is a good kid, but he can’t seem to focus on his schoolwork or control his temper. And lately, being away at boarding school is only getting worse - Percy could have sworn his pre-algebra teacher turned into a monster and tried to kill him. When Percy’s mom finds out, she knows it’s time that he knew the truth about where he came from, and that he go to the one place he’ll be safe. She sends Percy to Camp Half Blood, a summer camp for demigods. Soon a mystery unfolds and together with his friends-- one a satyr and the other the demigod daughter of Athena-- Percy sets out on a quest across the United States to reach the gates of the Underworld and prevent a catastrophic war between the gods” (Goodreads summary).

- The Heroes of Olympus series by Rick Riordan (book 1: The Lost Hero) “Jason has a problem. He doesn’t remember anything before waking up in a bus full of kids on a field trip. Apparently he has a girlfriend named Piper, and a best friend named Leo. They’re all students at a boarding school for ‘bad kids.’ What id Jason do to end up here? And where is here, exactly? Piper has a secret. Her father has been missing for three days, ever since she had that terrifying nightmare about his being in trouble. Piper doesn’t understand her dream, or why her boyfriend suddenly doesn’t recognize her. When a freak storm hits during the school trip, unleashing strange creatures and whisking her, Jason, and Leo away to someplace called Camp Half-Blood, she has a feeling she’s going to find out. Leo has a way with tools. When he sees his cabin at Camp Half-Blood, filled with power tools and machine parts, he feels right at home. But there’s weird stuff, too-- like the curse everyone keeps talking about, and some camper who’s gone missing. Weirdest of all, his bunkmates insist that each of them--including Leo-- is related to a god. Does this have anything to do with Jason’s amnesia, or the fact that Leo keeps seeing ghosts?” (Goodreads summary)

- The Children of the Red King series by Jenny Nimmo (book 1: Midnight for Charlie Bone) “Charlie Bone has a special gift-- he can hear people in photographs talking! The fabulous powers of the Red King were passed down through his descendants, after turning up quite unexpectedly, in someone who had no idea where they came from. This is what happened to Charlie Bone, and to some of the children he met behind the grim, gray walls of Bloor’s Academy. His scheming aunts decide to send him to Bloor’s Academy, a school for geniuses where he uses his grifts to discover the truth despite all the dangers that lie ahead” (Goodreads summary).

- Things Not Seen by Andrew Clements “Bobby Phillips is an average fifteen-year-old boy. Until the morning he wakes up and can’t see himself in the mirror. Not blind, not dreaming. Bobby is just plain invisible... There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to Bobby’s new conditions; even his dad the physicist can’t figure it out. For Bobby that means no school, no friends, no life. He’s a missing person” (Goodreads summary).

Science Fiction:

- Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick *Adult* “It was January 2021, and Rick Deckard had a license to kill. Somewhere among the hordes of humans out there, lurked several rogue androids. Deckard’s assignment-- find them and then... ‘retire’ them. Trouble was, the androids all looked exactly like humans, and they didn’t want to be found!” (Goodreads summary).

- Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton * Suitable for Young Adults* “An astonishing technique for recovering and cloning dinosaur DNA has been discovered. Now humankind’s most thrilling fantasies have come true. Creatures extinct for eons roam Jurassic Park with their awesome presence and profound mystery, and all the world can visit them-- for a price. Until something goes wrong...” (Goodreads summary).

Fantasy:

- The Magicians trilogy by Lev Grossman *ADULT* (book 1: The Magicians) “Quentin Coldwater is brilliant but miserable. A senior in high school, he’s still secretly preoccupied with a series of fantasy novels he read as a child, set in a magical land called Fillory. Imagine his surprise when he finds himself unexpectedly admitted to a very secret, very exclusive college of magic in upstate New York, where he receives a thorough and rigorous education in the craft of modern sorcery. He also discovers all the other things people learn in college: friendship, love, sex, booze, and boredom. Something is missing, though. Magic doesn’t bring Quentin the happiness and adventure he dreamed it would. After graduation he and his friends make a stunning discovery: Fillory is real. But the land of Quentin’s fantasies turns out to be much darker and more dangerous than he could have imagined. His childhood dream becomes a nightmare with a shocking truth at its heart” (Goodreads summary).

- The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater *YA* (book 1: The Raven Boys) “What do you know about Welsh kings?” This incredibly atmospheric story centers on a seemingly random group of teens as they uncover the mysterious and magical secrets of their small Virginia town.

- A Darker Shade of Magic by V.E. Schwab *Suitable for Young Adults* “Kell is one of the last Antari-- magicians with a rare, coveted ability to travel between parallel Londons; Red, Grey, White, and, once upon a time, Black. Kell was raised in Arnes-- Red London-- and officially serves the Maresh Empire as an ambassador, traveling between the frequent bloody regime changes in White London and the court of George III in the dullest of Londons, the one without any magic left to see. Unofficially, Kell is a smuggler, servicing people willing to pay for even the smallest glimpses of a world they’ll never see. After an exchange goes awry, Kell escapes to Grey London and runs into Delilah Bard, a cut-purse with lofty aspirations. She first robs him, then saves him from a deadly enemy, and finally forces Kell to spirit her to another world for a proper adventure. Now perilous magic is afoot, and treacher lurks at every turn. To save all of the worlds, they’ll first need to stay alive” (Goodreads summary).

- The Lord of the Rings trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien *Suitable for middle-grade through adult* “In ancient times the Rings of Power were crafted by the Elven-smiths, and Sauron, the Dark Lord. forged the One Ring, filling it with his own power so that he could rule all others. But the One Ring was taken form him, and though he sought it throughout Middle-earth, it remained lost to him. After many ages it fell by chance into the hands of the hobbit Bilbo Baggins. When Bilbo reached his eleventy-first birthday he disappeared, bequeathing to his young cousin Frodo the Ruling Ring and a perilous quest: to journey across Middle-earth, deep into the shadow of the Dark Lord, and destroy the Ring by casting it into the Cracks of Doom” (Goodreads summary).

- The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss *Adult* “Told in Kvothe’s own voice, this is the tale of the magically gifted young man who grows to be the most notorious wizard his world has ever seen. The intimate narrative of his childhood in a troupe of traveling players, his years spent as a near-feral orphan in a crime-ridden city, his daringly brazen yet successful bit to enter a legendary school of magic, and his life as a fugitive, and his life as a fugitive after the murder of a king form a gripping coming-of-age story” (Goodreads summary).

- The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch *Adult* “An orphan’s life is harsh-- and often short-- in the mysterious island city of Camorr. But youge Locke Lamora dodges death and slavery, becoming a thief under the tutelage of a gifted con artist. As leader of the band of light-fingered brothers known as the Gentleman Bastards, Loke is soon infamous, fooling even the underworld’s most feared ruler. But in the shadows lurks someone still more ambitious and deadly. Faced with a bloody coup that threatens to destroy everyone and everything that holds meaning in his mercenary life, Locke vows to beat the enemy at his own brutal game-- or die trying” (Goodreads summary).

Fiction:

- The Stephanie Plum series by Janet Evanovich *ADULT mystery-thrillers/romance* (book 1: One for the Money) “You’ve lost your job as a department store lingerie buyer, your car’s been repossessed, and most of your furniture and small appliances have been sold off to pay last month’s rent. Now the rent is due again. And you live in New Jersey. What do you do? If you’re Stephanie Plum, you become a bounty hunter. But not just a nickel-and-dime bounty hunter; you go after the big money. That means a cop gone bad. And not just any cop. She goes after Joe Morelli, a disgraced former vice cop who is also the man who took Stephanie’s virginity at age 16 and the wrote details on a bathroom wall. With pride and rent money on the line, Plum plunges headlong into her first case, one that pits her against ruthless adversaries - people who’d rather kill than lose” (Goodreads summary).

- The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown *Adult* “While in Paris, Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon is awakened by a phone call in the dead of the night. The elderly curator of the Louvre has been murdered inside the museum, his body covered in baffling symbols. As Langdon and gifted French cryptologist Sophie Neveu sort through the bizarre riddles, they are stunned to discover a trail of clues hidden in the works of Leonardo da Vinci-- clues visible for all to see and yet ingeniously disguised by the painter. Even more startling, the late curator was involved in the Priory of Sion-- a secret society whose members included Sir Isaac Newton, Victory Hugo, and Da Vici-- and he guarded a breathtaking historical secret. Unless Landon and Neveu can decipher the labyrinthine puzzle-- while avoiding the faceless adversary who shadows their every move-- the explosive, ancient truth will be lost forever” (Goodreads summary).

- Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle *Adult* Sherlock Holmes stories are always fun when stuck at home.

- 11/22/63 by Stephen King *Adult* “Life can turn on a dime-- or stumble into the extraordinary, as it does for Jake Epping, a high school English teacher in Lisbon Falls, Maine. While grading essays by his GED students, Jake reads a gruesome, enthralling piece penned by janitor Harry Dunning: fifty years ago, Harry somehow survived his father’s sledgehammer slaughter of his entire family, Jake is blown away... but an even more bizarre secret comes to light when Jake’s friend Al, owner of the local diner, enlists Jake to take over the mission that has become his obsession-- to prevent the Kennedy assassination. How? By stepping through a portal in the diner’s storeroom, and into the ear of Ike and Elvis, or big American cars, sock hops, and cigarette smoke... Finding himself in warmhearted Jodie, Texas, Jake begins a new life. But all turns in the road lead to a troubled loner named Lee Harvey Oswald. The course of history is about to be rewritten... and become heart-stoppingly suspenseful” (Goodreads summary).

Non-Fiction:

- The Men Who Stare at Goats by Jon Ronson *Adult* “In 1979 a secret unit was established by the most gifted minds within the U.S. Army. Defying all known accepted military practice-- and indeed, the laws of physics-- they believed that a soldier could adopt a cloak of invisibility, pass cleanly through walls, and, perhaps most chillingly, kill goats just by staring at them. Entrusted with defending America from all known adversaries, they were the First Earth Battalion. And they really weren’t joking. What’s more, they’re back and fighting the War on Terror. With firsthand access to the leading players in the story, Ronson traces the evolution of these bizarre activities over the past three decades and shows how they are alive today within the U.S. Department of Homeland Security and in postwar Iraq. Why are they blasting Iraqi prisoners of war with the theme tune to Barney the Purple Dinosaur? Why have 100 debleated goats been secretly placed inside the Special Forces Command Center at Fort Bragg, North Carolina? How was the U.S. military associated with the mysterious mass suicide of a strange cult form San Diego? The Men Who Stare at Goats answers these and many more questions” (Goodreads summary).

- Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert *Adult* (I recommend listening to the audiobook, which is narrated by Elizabeth Gilbert) “To recover from [an early midlife crisis, divorce, and depression], Gilbert took a radical step. In order to give herself the time and space to find out who she really was and what she really wanted, she got rid of her belongings, quit her job, and undertook a yearlong journey around the world-- all alone. Eat, Pray, Love is the absorbing chronicle of that year. Her aim was to visit three places where she could examine one aspect of her own nature set against the backdrop of a culture that has traditionally done that one thing very well. In Rome, she studied the art of pleasure, learning to speak Italian and gaining the twenty-three happiest pounds of her life. India was for the art of devotion, and with the help of a native guru and a surprisingly wise cowboy from Texas, she embarked on four uninterrupted months of spiritual exploration. In Bali, she studied the art of balance between worldly enjoyment and divine transcendence. She became the pupil of an elderly medicine man and also fell in love the best way-- unexpectedly” (Goodreads summary).

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ms-interpretation · 4 years

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There’s some light mirroring taking place in this episode. Similar to how an unknown person appeared in front of young Lee Gon and left an ID-badge, Lee Gon here appears in front of young Jeong Tae-eul and hands her back her mother’s Taekwondo belt. He does so carefully, remembering Tae-eul telling him how it is her late mother’s and how she still wears it to this day, and young Tae-eul will, arguably due to that gesture, be able to remember him. Lee Gon has also just left his younger recently orphaned self in the past and has basically re-lived his father’s death - even closing the older King’s eyes so that he can rest respectfully. And again, here he hands Tae-eul, who has just lost her mother, the Taekwondo belt which connects her to her mother.

In some ways we can see how their similar childhood traumas have shaped them respectively. I would even argue that we can see how the experience of losing their respective parent is one of the reasons why they connect so deeply so quickly. Because they both lost parental figures who are implied to have been incredibly influential in their lives and because they both seem to try to live in a way which will honour what their respective parent stood for. We see this more clearly with Lee Gon in that beautiful episode four scene where he remembers his father reciting the Four Tiger Sword to him - even outright asking Lee Gon if he thinks he will be able to shoulder the burdens of being King. (Lee Gon also does this explicitly due to the fact that he literally takes over his father’s position and duties as the new King). In Tae-eul’s case it is more implied, but remember that she told Lee Gon that she still wears her mother’s Taekwondo belt to this day. Also as I’ve written before I believe that losing her mother early influenced Tae-eul a great deal, and is probably what moved her (directly or indirectly) to decide as a kid to become brave and to use that bravery in a way which would protect others (remember that she emphasizes her duty to protect the citizens as well as the fact that her mother was a self-defense teacher). One of the core priorities Lee Gon and Jeong Tae-eul have in common is their priority and commitment to do what is right and to stand up against evil. Which may sound like a dramatic way to put it but this is a modern fairytale where Lee Lim is literally described as a demon in the narrative, who tempts people to give in to their dark desires at the expense of others. The protagonists standing up against this evil are Lee Gon and Jeong Tae-eul. Whose commitments to do what is right and to be brave were shaped by their respective loss of a loving and good parent, and by meeting and loving each other they are in the end both able to help each other find the strength to live up to their chosen destinies.

Returning to this scene I must say that I love the transition between Lee Gon taking in the situation of what he is going to have to do to get back home and his memory of his time with Tae-eul at that same field. He is going to have to spend four months(!) alone in the in-between while counting to make sure that he doesn’t accidentally go too far. There is something which really screams ‘alone-in-the-world’ in that first screenshot. Which makes a lot of sense given that he is stuck not only in a time which isn’t his (it’s his younger self’s) but also in (that specific screenshot) a world he technically doesn’t belong to. The colours are deliberately muted, as to create the feeling of the past (evoking the sense of looking at old photographs) but also as a way to create a contrast to his colourful (even warm) memories of his time with Tae-eul. The memory posits a striking contrast to the lonely figure he currently composites and the cold situation he finds himself in, being stuck back in time without her. Lee Gon’s orphanhood is also at play here making him feel even more alone, since he just a few scenes ago left his dead father after having saved his younger self, as he was destined to do, during the Night of Treason. He has manages to save himself from his uncle as a kid and thwart Lee Lim’s plan to get hold of the Manpashikjeok in 1994. There is however a sense of defeat as well, since he didn’t manage to save his doppelganger or his family. This ‘defeat’ is important and will figure in his decision to go back once again in time in episode 15. Further analysis and meta below:

So being basically stuck back in time, all alone and with nothing to do but count what does he do? He remembers Tae-eul and their moment here by the field, and you can see how the difference in colour and light signals how he views that memory. It is warm and life-affirming (even filled with laughter), which is a stark contrast to all the death and betrayal he has just lived through (re-lived even). So what does he do next? He goes to find her, something he has done time and time again in the drama. It’s definitely more of an emotional decision than rational. You can even see how he at first cannot really believe that the little girl is Tae-eul, which makes sense since he has always known her as an adult (even when he was a kid). He decides to send her a message through her past self, explaining what has happened and that he is on his way. I’ve written a bit before about how Tae-eul is in the terrifying position of being powerless when waiting for him since if something was to happen to Lee Gon in the Kingdom (or back in time) she would have no way of reaching him or even of ever knowing what happened to him. This is what it is like to love an uncertain fate. It is terrifying. One could even argue that the narrative (and/or Fate) is testing her commitment to be brave during the course of the story. So Lee Gon leaving messages through her past selves to reassure her is an incredibly important and thoughtful gesture. It is definitely also important for his sake, for the sake of his sanity but also as a way for him to not lose hope (and give into despair). He almost lingers when telling her goodbye (which I know in Korean also means hello, making his departing words with the past versions of Tae-eul even more bittersweet - since in a way he is meeting her for the first time).

Remember Lady Noh describing Jeong Tae-eul as the person who has been guiding Lee Gon’s destiny? In the middle of all of this time traveling, him finding out about his cousin��s betrayal and his destiny as his own savior this is what he chooses to focus on and is what guides him forward. Her. There is something very life-affirming and honestly quite heroic with how this drama focuses on love and overcoming evil (and arguably trauma) instead of on getting revenge and punishing those who wronged them. Sure Lee Gon beheads Lee Lim, but it is clearly done for the sake of putting right everything he has done rather than for the sake of personal satisfaction or a desire for revenge. The characters of Lee Gon and Jeon Tae-eul rise above the darkness, egos and greed of the antagonists by consistently choosing to do what is right, for the sake of other’s, even in the face of losing what has become the most important thing for them - each other.

Something this drama excels at as well is the Time Travel Romance ‘trope’. Simply because the drama manages to make their relationship a choice made by both parties while simultaneously creating that ‘destined’ aspect which make it very compelling from a dramatic standpoint. Lee Gon meets Jeong Tae-eul because he will fall in love with her, and Tae-eul will when faced with the choice to let him go and instead live a normal life, never having known him, choose to risk everything for him by going into the in-between. They are in the end destined because they will choose each other.

Thank you for reading! Please feel free to comment and even disagree. I really enjoy discussing this show. Shout-out to @anonanon2718 who asked if I could analyze this scene! I haven’t done the whole sequence yet but I hope you will still find it interesting. I’m going to to the next part of Lee Gon’s time traveling as well at some point.

#the king eternal monarch #not gonna lie I'm pretty happy with my screenshot composition here #the use of colour and light in this show #LMH is incredibly good in this episode #Lee Gon is the most interesting character I've seen for a long time #tkem meta

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reginaofdoctorwho · 3 years

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weird shit that would probably have something to do with me in a horror movie

no one wanted this but i’m bored and found a bottle so you’re all getting it. yes these are all true. check the tags, if u think i’ve missed something please let me know!

there was a murder (technically, i don’t really count it as a murder) next door when i was four years old on christmas morning

the weird antique glass bottle i found half-buried in the woods in the woods yesterday with living bugs in it that made no attempt to leave it once i uncovered it

there is a local cult in the next town over. this is not the same as the local cult that was in the other town over where my mom grew up

random completed animal skeletons in the woods behind our house, i’m talking prey and predator, both laid out like in a goddamn scientific diagram. for a while there’d be ones in the middle of our yard, always the same type of animal, always just the bones and nothing else, laid out like it was posed. this has been happening for over half a decade and we have no fucking clue how, why, or who is doing it

the screaming from the woods that i’m going to assume is a fox

my sister almost dated a murderer. his niece or something is in my class

there is a house that is now part of a “local ghost tour” that belonged to my great+ grand parents during the civil war where my great+ aunt died allegedly murdered by her husband who is actually blood related to me. family history says she died of childbirth, which given that it was the 1800s... probably is true

there was an actual murderer in our family a few generations back but he married in and killed his wife and her sister. they didn’t find out about it until they read his journals after he died where it apparently told everything he did and they decided. “well, that wouldn’t look good for the family, and they’re already dead anyway” and just kept it hidden??

the fact we have my great great grandmother’s dress from probably 1890s or 1900s. even more so the fact that i fit in it. if this was fantasy horror (vampires, some immortal thing or ghost) i’d be fucking dead or cursed

fairly certain i was possessed by the ghost of a puritan as a kid

my family seems to have a curse with babies and nurses? my great uncle died when he was born because long story short, hospitals were the new hot thing, he was perfectly healthy, then a nurse dropped him and he died instantly. my sister died when she was a toddler and the hospital actively tried to delete her hospital records to cover it up and ended up getting fined by the state for it. the nurses responsible were not arrested or punished in any way.

my family all has fucked up connective tissue, in my brother it was bad enough he had to get a steel bar in his chest so it wouldn’t cave in.

the many times i have almost drowned, sometimes due to intentional actions by humans (my dad, it was my dad)

this in addition to the other fucked up shit he did before the divorce when he still lived here, including but not limited to: killing my mom’s favorite pet goat, hanging its skull in a tree, and leaving the body in the woods. not letting his kids learn how to cook. anytime someone asked him to cook he’d put as much pepper/hot sauce in as he could (even for like, scrambled eggs) and give it to the youngest person, usually a toddler. this was me at times. taking his kids out to the woods and threatening murder. taking his kids out to the woods and threatening burning. purposely locked the basement from the inside so we couldn’t get the gaping hole in the stairs leading to one of three kids rooms fixed. tearing up pictures of the kids whenever my mom did something he didn’t like. i had more here but i tried to cut it down a litttle

people have threatened to murder me before. one time a girl didn’t threaten, and actually acted like she was starting to like me, but her cousin read her diary or something and found out she was planning to commit a lot of murder, and told her parents and she got sent to a psychiatric ward for a couple weeks

my mom lived down the street from a family that got axe-murdered by one of their two sons when she was a kid. the murderer did get out on an insanity plea and is still in the area. also their neighbor’s mom “lost her mind” (how the story was told) when she had to protect their kids while her husband went over to try to protect the non murderer son when he got home from school and ran over screaming about his brother trying to kill him and had killed their parents

also she knew a girl who almost got kidnapped by this really fucked up traveling serial killer that has his own wikipedia page that is,,, lengthy. the girl had [alleged] mafia ties, and the guy ended up dying shot by police despite them being told to bring him in, which sounds kinda suspicious

long story short i’d probably be the sequel where one comes back

apparently i go to the “bad” school, which i found out in a coffee shop when i overheard two girls talking about how one’s dad went there and how horrible and dangerous it is

school fights are weird. either they don’t happen or they come freakishly close to murder. people slam heads into lockers, stomp on bones, drag people by hair along the ground. one time in my brother’s class a 4′9″ girl sent a 6′2″ football player to the hospital. there was video of a fight a couple years ago that’s still around. it was brutal, but also one of the girls fighting was taking one for the team in it and got the other kicked out

we don’t have a ceiling in all of the third floor, and the cafeteria has 2. this is not relevant in any way, but it’s important to me that you know this

also the guys kept ripping the heating vents/radiators/whatever off the walls in their bathrooms and got almost all the bathrooms locked. including the girls’ ones.

also everyone kept punching holes in the walls so on some of them it’s just,,, metal sheeting down the whole hallway

there are so many fucking shootings in the next town over. literally five years ago it was this nice place where kids would go on history tours, i did when my sister worked for that group. now there is pretty much one business that has not been held up at gunpoint, and if u look up to the serial killer bullet point, it is for v similar ties. it’s a pizza place and if u ever stop by u gotta try it

women in my family have weirdly good intuition but every couple generations we get doubtful. my great grandma didn’t want a hospital birth but decided “hey it’s the hot new thing for a reason”, my mom switched churches based on nothing but intuition and it turned out someone was a pedophile there (found out years later), i instantly could tell my friend’s boyfriend was a pos and wasn’t surprised later when he told her he’d murder and dismember me in front of her, and upon meeting him told him he was a fucking coward and couldn’t do it. he broke up with her a month later.

i was really good friends for a while with two guys that burned a building down. yes they were arrested. i was friends before and after the fire. they’re pretty nice, but this girl they used to date (at different times, they were brothers, yes it was fucking weird and uncomfortable for everyone involved except her but that’s it’s own thing) said some fucked up shit and it was the closest i ever got to starting a fight. anyway i’m still friends with both on facebook. one of them shares a lot of king of the hill memes

speaking of that fight, i 100% would’ve tried to kill her in that moment. u know that john mulaney quote like “i didn’t understand how a person could want to kill another person. then i got cheated on, and i was like ‘oh, okay.’”? that was me, but replace “cheated on” with she told me it was good my five year old sister was dead because she was a waste, and told me she hoped i’d die of covid”. it was mainly the sister thing. i couldn’t move because if i did i’d start a fight with the [way] above mentioned shit.

my family has a literal feud with a local farming family. i mean, we keep farm animals (sheep, goats, chickens), these people have that, pigs, and crops too. the feud was because their great uncle (or great grand uncle, i’m a little fuzzy on the details) published an autobiography (despite not being anyone famous/important) and in it talked about when he was friends with my grandfather and how creepy my great grandfather was (this was the one with the dead firstborn son) because he kept newspaper clippings of the Lindbergh baby’s kidnapping and murder pinned to a board on the wall of his office/basement. also because he was a child of german immigrants who wanted to fight against nazis in WW2 (how suspicious [sarcasm]). members of their family are in my grade. they charged my sister for almost half an extra pound of goods, too, which just revitalized it.

i live by corn fields. i am surrounded by cornfields. (joke one)

i was friends for a while with this girl whose baby teeth,,, didn’t really fall out completely? she was 17 the last time i saw her in person, she’s probably 19 now and judging by her facebook pictures they’re still Like That. she had a very symmetrical mouth/teeth, which made it weirder. just to clarify, she had some of her baby teeth pushed forward and up, so they kind pointed out a little? and all her adult teeth. she was literally so pretty.

a teacher who is v sexual with his female students came into my english class (he is a science teacher) to demand why i wasn’t signed up for his class. we then both became increasingly passive aggressive and he told the whole class where i live with specific directions and landmarks. the guy sitting next to me had to try to tone things down despite being obviously confused as to why it was even happening (me too buddy). he lives down the road from my sister. when my niece had her birthday party at our house i was outside setting things up and he slowed his car down and honked at me. fuckin creep

#tw child death #tw animal death #tw arson #i guess?#tw shooting #tw murder #a lot of that one actually #tw child abuse #tw violence #let me know if u think i should tag anything else #no one wanted this #except for me #tw cult

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 3 years

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Winner’s Curse: Epilogue

Note: Wooo boy, it’s over. Now I know not many people may have read this, it may not have the best editing and some parts are a bit vague and not the best. In fact I’ll probably revise some parts at a later date or if I ever decide to post on A03, but I am still super proud of it. I think I did some great character parts and there are some sections that I’m just super proud of. I’m also happy that I actually finished it. It’s my longest fic to date and I actually completed it! 30 chapters. Well 32 if you include the prologue and epilogue. So cool! Plus I wrote what I really wanted, which I’ll admit was not the plot. The plot was a bit wonky and maybe I had too many characters that I didn’t juggle well and didn’t give them all equal exploration. Also action scenes were hard for me to write so those were not the best. But still- getting to explore these characters and their relationships and include several of my favorite Disney characters. Very fun. Also thanks to @edream93 for encouraging me when this was just a little idea, looking over some sections and offering advice and for overall being an amazing person. Check out her WLTF and other descendants fics like London Fog Nightcaps. And for the final time, hope y’all enjoy reading.

Flash forward to summer break in Agrabah

Jordan stretched, cracking her back after sitting hunched at her desk for the past hour editing her latest video How to Date a Djinn Episode 3. She had finally convinced the tech-averse Calix to join her in making satire videos of all the most terrible dates she had been on. Initially, she had planned for it to be a serious thing where she reminded her viewers of genie autonomy and the idea they had feelings behind their wishing powers, but Calix was never good at playing emotional PSAs.

Besides it was more fun that way to spoof how terrible, and sometimes ridiculous her romantic suitors were. Plus the hilarity kept her from thinking too much about the bitterness of the memories.

She cracked her neck and poofed outside to Aziz’s room where her lamp laid on its usual perch. Outside she could hear the thump of running feet and the screech of confused peacocks.

“Malik! No riding the peacocks!” A servant shouted

“Yes, riding peacocks!”

“No, Noor, Fahran, that’s not allowed. Get off of them!”

Jordan shook her head in amusement at the kids' antics.

Noor and Fahran were having a blast hanging out with their new “little” brother as they called the 5 year old. Though they were family in a way. Jade was the half sister to Aladdin’s half brother, Mozonroth. And Malik was their nephew. Even though the family tree was a bit tangled and confusing to visualize in your head.

And where Jade and Malik were concerned, Jay was also included as Aladdin had originally planned in inviting the former thief to Agrabah so they could get to know each other, and Jay, to get in touch with the more savory side of his heritage. Jay and Aladdin had especially hit off as they compared lives on the streets and bragged about some of their more daring heists so any concern of whether the Jafar connection would sour things was gone. All together, Jay, Jade and Malik were new, though unofficial members of the family. Aladdin, and Jasmine decided to hold off any official adoption in respect to Jay and Jade’s feelings.

Though, having three new members meant triple the chaos, the running in the halls and inevitable breaking of antique objects. It was still triple the fun.

Razoul, predictably, despised the decision. But hey, he wasn’t the sultan.

Jordan peeked out to the hall, no sign of peacock racing or frazzled servants anywhere. Since she’d been inside so long she decided to go outside to the backyard.

Passing the living room, she saw Jay playing some sort of Wii-fit game against Carlos, Lonnie and Gil whose scores were also reflected on the screen even as they played millions of miles away in their own living rooms. Jordan checked the time, ah it was 2’o clock on the doubt. Jay always called his friends at this time since it was when the time zones converged suitably for all of them to chat.

Jade was lounging on the couch, facetiming her girlfriend, Yzla. Jordan waved, and Jade waved in return, focusing mainly on their conversation which involved some llama prank with Empress Malina. Yzla was staying with Emperor Kuzco and his family. A arrangement Kuzco had initially been against but his wife and son overruled him. Which was for the best because apparently Yzla and him were hitting it off like two peas in a pod, scaring Malina, by tricking her into thinking Kuzco had changed into a llama again.

Huh, that reminded her, she hadn’t checked social media in a few hours. So she scrolled through, looking at Ben’s new post that there was to be a new class in the fall. Magic 101 with Flora, Fauna and Merrywhether and many surprise guest lecturers.

The Magic 101 class had been one of Uma’s many ideas for the new and improved Auradon. She told Ben of Alexandria’s reasoning for the revolt, explaining that the pressure for magic creatures to deny their magic was a strong reason for resentment, and most importantly, unfair. And Ben, who had been present at several meetings where mermaids, fairies and others stated their petitions of complaints, agreed. King Ben had removed the magic ban and decided to institute the Magic 101 class. Contrary to the name, the class wasn’t for magical beings, they already knew how to deal with their powers and not use them to affect others or supposedly cheat at life. The class was a requirement for Auradonians to learn about their fellow beings, how it was a vital part of them and the greater natural world.

Ben had actually suggested that she’d be the magical liaison and teacher assistant for the new Magic 101 classes but she had politely declined. She did accept going as a demonstrator whenever it was time for her Dad’s guest lecture.

But a fulltime TA? It sounded like too much work, her powers were not applicable to the greater magical population, and most importantly, she really wanted to get back to doing her auratube show. Especially now that she was bound to have so many new subscribers thanks to her newfound fame for helping to defeat the Coven.

Jordan had considered doing a series about the Isle mission against the Coven in order to get the story straight and not create too wild legends regarding their month and a half there. And okay, there was also the fact that she wanted to renew her hits after losing subscribers after not posting for a month.

But she ultimately decided not to. It was their mission, only they’d get what happened in that wild untamed place of evil and poverty. Besides, it was very personal and she didn’t want to have to go into her fights with Aziz and Jay on Auratube. Or her encounter with Antiquam.

No she’d rather not think about the latter for a very long time.

Dismissing those thoughts she scrolled through several more posted announcements like the newly formed Minority Kingdom Council made up of representatives from Atlantis, Atlantica, Arrendelle, Kuzcoropia, and Pydrian, who were overrun by environmental and tourism concerns as Alexandria brought up. There was also a new class of Vks that were coming in. Basically the teen population of the Isle.

The orphans and kids from the Isle were sent to boarding elementary schools around Auradon as well as foster care with professional trained therapists for the abused youngsters.

Ben’s decision to bring the whole teen population in had been a controversial one. But he had stood by it, stating that he was taking the advice of his people, the ones from his generation who were to make up the future generation and a schoolwide vote had agreed that the Vks should be let in.

Granted it had taken a two month lobbying campaign led by Mal and Evie with Lonnie, Carlos, Jane and Jay’s help. But they did, they persuaded lots of royal kids that it was better to bring Vks over. It also helped that Mal, Jay, Evie, Carlos and Uma had been pronounced Auradon’s saviors thrice in a row so…

Though it wouldn’t be until August that all the Vks, with a few exceptions like the resolutely bad CJ Hook and Prince Lars, and Antiquam, would be able to get to Auradon. But they would, Uma was making sure of it. Even Zevon and Ginny were coming despite their actions in proudly helping the Coven, Ben believed they just needed to be removed from the negative influences of their mothers.

Some Vks had already come over like Carlos’ cousin. Diego had refused to enter the VK program through school, but through the work progrm. Now he and his band, Rotten Apples, could introduce Isle grunge rock to Auradon’s farmer populations and inspire them to use music to express themselves. Carlos informed them that Diego wasn’t too into that inspiration and empowerment stuff, but he was loving the popularity. And he often crashed to the Radcliff house to catch up with Carlos and get a break from his adoring fans.

Harriet Hook, also in the work program, was working in Neverland, serving as guard for docks and a pretty mean one too, Jordan heard. Any tourist that tried to sneak

Not that everyone was residing in the homes of their parents’ enemies. Celia Facilier was living with her sister Freddie, and Freddie’s girlfriend, Ally at the Mad for Tea Shop. Also as a student by day and helping her sister as the evening entertainment at night. Singing only. FG was still wary of introducing such sketchy magic as card readings. Celia did choose to be a TA to her sister’s class, Goodness 101. Freddie was taking over for FG to make it a revamped, less patronizing seminar of how to act in Auradon with Ally popping in for politeness lessons and Carlos with therapy dogs. Though FG still stayed in the room to supervise and make sure the class stayed on track and not turn into “Everything that’s wrong about sappy sweet Auradon.”

Dizzy was reunited with her mother, her aunt Anastasia, her uncle, the Baker and Anthony Tremine and they lived in the faculty building of Auradon Prep. Easy for Anthony and Dizzy to get to school and for the Baker to go to his new job as school cook.

His baguettes were to die for, so flaky and crispy. Even Chad reluctantly agreed to their goodness when she interviewed him for student reactions to the new cook. Anastasia and Drizella were the new cosmeticians in training at the school’s day spa even though the two still argued over what was a better color and such.

Also working in Auradon’s kitchen were Gil, and Cosette’s mothers who had taken in their other’s sister’s sons, Gaston Jr, Gaston the Third and Gaston (IV) the Great. Their mother had been deemed just as abusive as Gaston and was to stay on the Isle with him. Gil had been nervous about living with his brothers again but he had Cosette by his side and Harry and Uma just a street away. Harry was just as fiercely loyal as ever to his crew and to Uma, who he’d wait for outside of Ben’s office, waiting for their meetings to end.

Gil also had Jay on his side. And though Jordan had absolutely no proof, she just felt something between them, and she was planning to use this summer to sniff out just what it was.

It had been more controversial to bring back some adult villains like Anastasia and Circe, but Ben had explained that he was not in the business of tearing families apart and adults were able to change too. Smee, for instance, wanted to retire from swabbing desks and wanted his second act in life to follow his lifelong dream. Be a clockmaker, ironically enough considering his boss’ fear of the ticking. Same with other low level henchmen like Jace and Harry, and Hun soldiers that had been following the battle orders and propaganda Shan Yu had fed them.

Ben had promised not all adults would come over, especially not ones that had abused their children, and that he, Mal and Uma were designing a careful vetting process for this program.

As for the Auradonian bred villains. Morgana and Morgaine hadn’t stayed in the dungeon for long. One day the guards had come down to give their food and they were just gone. No one knew where they went and no magic had been able to locate them. Merlin said it was no use trying. The Le Feys were tricky and wouldn’t reappear again unless they wanted to.

Kyro, Victoria and Alexandria were in therapy now in a new building away from the dorms and those who would shun them for their actions like the media that had reviled them when the news leaked out. It was a bit of a depressing building Jordan thought since one could see it if they leaned far out their windows. The outside of it looked like an insane asylum but Evie enthused about how open- aired and peaceful it was inside. The point of it was to clear the outside world, and focus on healing. What’s more, since Uma learned of FG’s somewhat oblivious and condescending advice from Alexandria, they hired a new counselor. A Dr. Mickey Mouse.

So yeah, things seemed to wrapping out into a happily ever after for all.

Jordan walked into a door, rubbing her head of the bruise and cursing herself for not looking up. Tucking the phone in her pocket, she was about to open the door when Aziz opened it for her, heading inside from hanging out on the hammock.

He didn’t even look at her as he entered, he was busy chatting on the phone with who else, his new girlfriend.

Aziz had stayed true to his word that he and Lala were just friends, and remained just friends for three months. It had irritated Jordan to no end to watch them sneak discreet looks, study together since Lala only knew the Atlantean alphabet and not the English, and dance around their feelings as if the obvious wasn’t there. And it took all her self control to honor her vow to not meddle and send a flying carpet in to speed things up.

At least Aziz did not shut her out completely and still went to her advice for what to do when he asked her to be his girlfriend.

“What if she says no? Or doesn’t know what that is. Jay did say it was only gang activity. Or maybe she’ll just say no because she thinks she’ll go crazy like her mom. But I really want her to say yes. Oh Allah, what if I mess it up instead by acting like an idiot. Or she already thinks that. I walked into a wall yesterday.”

“Aziz, she likes you,” Jordan reassured him, “I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Like a leopard with dinner, she totally wants to eat you. In a sexy, hungry with desire way. Not cannibal way. And really, walking into a wall? That’s not a dealbreaker or even embarrassing. If you want to talk about embarrassing, nothing can top the time you popped in front of that yoga instructor you were trying to impress.” “I had food poisoning from the oysters!” Aziz yelled indiginantly.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you shitted during downward dog,” Jordan smirked at Aziz’s flustered angry face, “Nor was it like that time when you tried to impress Anxlin with a butterfly knife and ended up-”

“Will you stop bringing up the past?” Jordan decided to change tactics and be the serious, comforting big sister that he wanted, “Just speak from the heart. You’re on the same page with so many things, and you talk so much. Sooo much, it’s kinda annoying. Especially when you’re yapping in my room when I’m trying to watch a movie. But anyway, I think when the time comes your heart will guide you to say the right thing. And if not… your lips can speak for you.”

So with that fabulous advice if Jordan said so herself, on the last day of school, before they went their separate ways for vacation. Aziz went to her room and asked her.

And while she said she wouldn’t meddle, Jordan totally turned into a bee to go through the keyhole and eavesdrop on their conversation. For moral support. Just Aziz didn’t know about it.

It was endearingly awkward as Aziz stammered through some rambling monologue of how he liked her a lot, and only if she was okay with it, but he really thought they had something so woud she maybe consider being his girlfriend.

Aziz should probably have gotten some lessons from Jay on the art of smooth, but Lala seemed to get it. “So if we’re in a relationship we do what we do now… but with kissing?” she clarified.

“Yes!” Aziz agreed eagerly, then tried to dial down his excitement, “I mean sure, if you want.”

“I would really like that,” Lala bit her lip nervously but her expression was hopefully as Aziz leaned in.

Their kiss was short, two seconds at the most. Jordan would have given it a three out of five. It was unsure and the two seemed to be surprised they even did it. But it was clear from the look in their eyes, that they only saw each other and the rest of the world was already fading away for them, that that small kiss was perfect to them.

So they kissed again. Much more purposefully this time. Oh Allah, Jordan was so proud when Aziz added some passion and slipped tongue first. He was really growing up.

And they kissed again, and again and soon they were making out on Lala’s bed, which was starting to get kinda gross and Jordan was feeling weird about watching them. So she took that as her cue to leave.

But now she had plenty of new things to annoy Aziz about so she took it as a plus.

Grabbing him by the arm to stop, Jordan grabbed his camera.

“Hi, Lala, how are you?” Jordan waved, mugging for the camera as Aziz grabbed it back, and tried to push her out of the frame. The white-haired girl was dressed up in Evie’s new line of summer clothes with her hair up in a bun, and most startingly, her brown eyes were human.

It was silly that Jordan was surprised by Lala’s human eyes, she had been the one to change them when in a burst of good will offered all their allies on the adventure a wish. Lala hadn’t used the offered three wishes, just one, which was to remove the leopard spell Queen La had put on her. She lost her cat eyes and the habit of walking on all fours, but she still had her cat-like grace which Jordan chalked up to natural ability. It had been three months since that wish, but she had been so used to Lala’s cat-like slits with the dilated pupils. It had been a unique marker like the scar that everyone could see on Lala’s leg when she wore shorts.

“I’m well. Aziz sent me your new vlog about Odiferous, it was very interesting.” Lala nodded curtly. Jordan knew Lala was usually guarded against everyone so the coldness didn’t bother her as much as it used to. Thanks to hanging out with Aziz and Jade, she was starting to slowly warm up to people she wasn’t close to even though her tone didn’t reflect it.

“How are the Porters?” Jordan asked, cutting off whatever Aziz was about to say next. He glared at her, but she ignored. Hey, she said she’d stop mothering him. So now it was back to annoying big sister privileges.

“They’re well. Kerchak and I are going tree surfing tomorrow.” Lala answered. When Ben put up the invitation of Vks in need of foster homes or adoptive families, the Porters offered to take in Clay Clayton, and Lala. Clay refused and went with his Aunt, Lady Waltham who was thrilled to meet her surly nephew for the first time. Lala joined the Porters where she was helping their gorilla reserve, connecting with animals instead of hunting them for food and survival.

It was bound to be awkward considering their daughter’s actions, but Auradon seemed to consider it part of their penance even though they hadn’t known what Victoria had planned to wrought. But according to Lala, they did their best to skirt around that sensitive issue and treat her like a guest, and she was starting to befriend Kerchak. He even gave her a leopard of her own which she named Euware II though the pet made Tarzan a bit wary. Still, Lala had to stay in her room on weekends when Victoria visited from therapy.

“That’s great. When are you coming to visit? I know Jade is just dying for you to visit. It’d be fun. We can go sand surfing, oh and explore some of the caves under the citadel. Oh, oh and I just know Aziz wants to show you some of the secret alcoves in the palace. They’re great for making out and-” “Go away!” Aziz waved her off

“You want me to leave? But who will chaperon you two? Who will tell Lala all the embarrassing stories from your childhood? I’ve been holding onto blackmail for a reason, Aziz. I must tell her,” Jordan turned to the screen, “But seriously, come visit. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thank you!” Aziz sighed in exasperation, “Give me 5 minutes, I’ll join you to go to the bazaar later, Jord.”

“See ya!” Jordan called over the shoulder as she headed to the palace kitchen, still hearing some snippets of Aziz’s conversation about his summer psychology classes. His new passion since Jordan had suggested that since he liked overanalyzing and counselling other people's problems, he could research into being a psychologist.

Upon reaching the outside, Jordan took a big breath of the sweet summer air with a hint of jasmine and the coconut and sighed.

Life was good.

Of course, life was always good when it was summer vacation but it was more than that. She had really committed to what she had learned on the Isle. She lived in the present now, and tried not to wallow in the anger and resentment that extended to almost every human she met.

Did that kind of positive mindset always work? Hell no, sometimes, someone would grab her arm, requesting for a wish, rubbing her jacket as if that was the lamp and not her. Yeah, that stupid event would irritate her all morning but she didn’t go into her spiral of how all humans were greedy monsters, her life sucked that she had to walk among them and so on and so forth. She learned to vent to Aziz and let it go.

She would always meet bad people in her life, when that happened, if the situation was appropriate, she would blow a mini sandstorm in their face and move on.

She’d also gotten more sensitive about complaining about humanity in front of Aziz. She tried to complain of an individual person and not make broad generalizations about the mortal race, and repeat that Aziz and his family were the exception.

Well Aladdin’s family, and Uma, and Jay, and Lonnie, and Calix and Ben, and she was starting to realize her circle of those she trusted was expanding.

It felt good to have that knowledge.

Even if Aziz might not always be there, though she’d kill him if he wasn’t, she still had others who cared about her.

Then again, she, Calix, Aziz, Jay and Uma had been through a harrowing adventure that nearly destroyed the world they knew, and had to face their greatest fears and insecurities to do so. If that didn’t make you trust a person, what would?

There were also her parents. Her parents always had her back.

That was another thing she’d been committed to doing since she got back from the Isle and saved Auradon.

Her parents had been the first ones to get there, magical teleportation after all and were laying out the blue carpet and making plans for the greatest party in all of Agrabah for their daughter, the hero. Instead of getting annoyed by their zany antics as usual, and annoyed at how they ignored the fact she faced possibly life-ending danger against their enemies, she just hugged them.

The act had clearly surprised them because both of their jaws broke off and fell to the floor before snapping back up like a ball. But they loved the change in her nonetheless.

Ever since then, she’d been going out with them every other weekend, be it ice skating on Saturn’s rings or clubbing or going out to drink in celebration of the banning of the Magic Ban.

She had thought for so long that if she let herself act even a little bit like them, she’d be signing herself to a fate of servitude, never being taken seriously, and becoming a negligent oblivious person who only wanted to focus on fun.

She had worried that if these things didn’t come naturally to her, she’d have to fake it in order to fit in and be palatable to her own parents. So they wouldn’t become bored with her. She hadn’t liked thinking about it, but she always felt that was the underlying reason they left her.

But she lived in the present now and shoved all those thoughts away. She did what she wanted without thinking of the implications. And she found that actively listening to what they were saying, how they constantly suggested ideas for their next adventure, how it was too bad she had school and couldn’t come with them to their trip. They didn’t think she was a damper on their party style, they wanted her to be with them. And she usually said to each invitation.

YOLO, right. Well more like YOLFSMAWEI.

(You Only Live Forever So Might As Well Enjoy It. Not as catchy but infinitely more accurate)

Family time was a lot more enjoyable that way instead of brooding that once it was over, they were going to forget about her and go about their lives as if they didn’t have a daughter.

Although, Jordan still did crave for a meaningful talk where she got to tell them about some of her issues with their lack of parenting oversight, and maybe delve into how abandoned she felt when they wouldn’t discuss such issues like her rape, they still weren’t ready for that.

Though Aladdin was talking to her dad on her behalf, and it seemed he was starting to soften to it.

Until then, she had two sets of parents. Aladdin and Jasmine, probably the first humans who she trusted, and respected. The first ones who saw her as a child and not a being for wishes. They gave her the love and attention she had craved when she needed it. They stood by treating her like everyone else, as she wished, even when it meant disregarding her excuses that her genie-ness exempted her from getting in trouble. They were always present her lives and were the ones that reminded her that her supposed fate was not a fate, that no one could shackle her, not unless they went through them. They encouraged that there other sides to her besides being a genie. That she should work hard, be kind, be honest and be independent.

Her mom and dad, who loved her with all their hearts and thought of her as their best friend. It wasn’t the most parental relationship but she had started to accept that it would never be. They were genie parents, not human ones, and it was finally sinking in that the rules would always be different from them. No matter that Jordan looked human and was raised by them. But that’s what made them special. No one else in the world would get her quite like her mom and dad.

Aziz opened the door, knocking her in the back and she moved over so he could wait beside her.

She checked her phone. Her parents were supposed to come here five minutes ago so they culd go to the bazaar together.

They probably weren’t going to come for another twenty minutes.

Ah genies, Jordan sighed, they were never going to be punctual. She wondered how many years it would be before she started viewing time as an unimportant mortal construct.

She was about to pose that question to Aziz, whether it would occur in his lifetime or in her 5,000s when a green and blue poof popped up in front of them.

“We’re here!” The two blew the smoke away to reveal the pair in matching red and white striped tuxedos with a blinking “Genie and Eden” sign hanging behind them.

“It’s Genie and Eden!” Eden announced

“Eden and Genie!” Genie intoned.

Then with a snap of a finger, the props and costumes disappeared, and Genie sat thoughtfully in the air, “We can’t quite choose which sounds better.”

Eden went back to a form-fitting black leotard with a black bowler hat, smoking a cigar in her best Liza Minelli voice, “Whaddya think, daughter dear, whaddya think?”

“I think we should go to the bazaar and have the people decide which is better.” Jordan suggested, knowing that if they did it here, they wouldn’t leave.

“By george, she’s right!” Genie exclaimed transforming into a nerdy account, “Statistically, it is always better to test things with a test audience, and according to my calculations that the Agrabah bazaar has the best cross-pool of audience with 10% bearded, 40% kids..” He transformed into his usually big blue self, “Aaand let’s get outta here!”

“Wait up!” Jay yelled, nearly running into the four of them with Jade at his side, “I wanna go to the bazaar too, there was that awesome scimir I wanted to buy.” “Yeah me too, I want to steal things too… I-I mean buy. Buy with money. That I did not steal from the mean guard.” “His name is Razoul, and you really shouldn’t. He already doesn’t like you.” Aziz shook his head.

“I don’t like him, and that’s what makes it so tempting.” Jade defended.

“Yeah, he kinda has it coming,” Jay agreed.

“Now, now, we won’t say anything about it. But you must stop,” Eden warned in a prim British accent, poofing into a blue serge suit like a certain famous nanny, “Now spit spot, hurry up, we don’t want to be late to the bazaar.”

Genie transformed into a Bert to his wife’s Mary Poppins, adding, “Come ‘ere ye kiddos and ‘urry it ‘up.”

Jay and Jade stared at each in the classic “What the hell?” expression that bystanders always had whereas her parents were concerned. Aziz and Jordan just shrugged and smiled.

And so they went off to the bazaar and as the sun beated down on them, and Jordan whipped up a hijab from air to keep off the heat, she hummed a familiar tune which Aziz and her dad easily picked up.

“As you wind through the streets at the fabled bazaars with the cardamom-cluttered stalls. You can smell every spice while you haggle the price of the silks and the satin shawls. Oh, the music that plays as you move through a maze in the haze of your pure delight. You are caught in a dance. You are lost in the trance of another Arabian night…”

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loosenedidylls · 3 years

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Blessings, Curses, Autism

My earliest memories are of waiting rooms with musty carpets and buckets of donated, broken toys. I guess it was worse for my parents, who had nothing to stare at but walls and trashy lifestyle magazines. Eventually, the professionals decided I had a condition called Asperger’s Syndrome, and there was one thing they wanted me to understand:

“It’s a blessing, not a curse.”

If someone asked me to list blessings off the top of my head, I’d mention 20/20 vision, pitch-perfect hearing, or George Foreman’s chin — not a neurological disorder that transforms the most natural stages of personal development into a confusing struggle. In hindsight, I would have preferred more concrete advice than ‘it’s a blessing, not a curse.’ Something like:

“Watch out for the train!”

…But the quippy slogan is what stuck. My parents dispensed it like a cheap plaster, and I still don’t know whose benefit it was for — mine, or theirs. What I do know, is that I never once believed them: I felt I was being brushed aside, or told to accept something blatantly untrue. Besides, children don’t care to question whether they’re blessed or cursed, so it was an answer to a question that hadn’t been asked. Existentialism is for adults trying to make the best of a bad situation.

Being an Autistic Child.

Autism is not a superpower. Thanks to certain pieces of popular media, you might think of autistic people as quirky-yet-brilliant detectives, awkward-yet-sexy hackers (always female), or nonverbal children with a deep, instinctive connection to whatever animal or alien the protagonists are trying to communicate with. Often, people with severe autism are plot devices in the same vein as a forbidden orb or set of nuclear launch codes. Instead of damsels waiting for Bruce Willis to save them, they’re objects waiting for Bruce Willis to understand them.

A lot of autistic people are brilliant academically, though not for the reasons you might think. A common feature of autism is hyper-fixating on ‘special interests’, obsessing over a subject until one has learned everything about it, before moving on to the next. Very few people become maths geniuses this way; more often they become diehard Sonic fans or start giving lots of money to Games Workshop. Here are a few of the phases I went through:

- Thomas the Tank Engine.

- Pokémon.

- Old English monster myths.

- Naruto.

- Peter Jackson’s King Kong (both the movie and the video game).

- �� Bleach (the anime, thankfully, not the cleaning product).

Fairly normal interests for a young person, right? Now remember the hyper-fixation part. People with Asperger’s tend to focus on certain interests at the expense of others, and those ‘rejected interests’ are usually vital for social development. Now remember that high school is a psychopathic hellscape crawling with cruel little monsters ready to vent their newfound territorial instincts on anyone who doesn’t fit in. The kid who wants to discuss the depiction of brontosauruses in a sort-of-okay remake of a 1933 movie isn’t doing himself any favours — constant bullying drives him even deeper into reclusive interests and solitary hobbies, and from there, it’s the luck of the draw whether those hobbies resonate with any of the kids around him.

I’ve always known a lot about things no one knows about, and nothing about things everyone knows about. This, along with the fact that a lack of social life makes it easy to focus on one’s studies, creates the illusion that some autistic kids are eccentric geniuses-in-the-making. Parents — especially the parents of autistic children — are quick to latch onto any display of intelligence. They watch intently for any sign their long struggle is paying off, and when it happens, they praise their child endlessly, reinforcing behaviour patterns both good and bad. Because adults told me I was intelligent, I told other children I was intelligent, and you can imagine how well that went.

This misapprehension — confusing a bunch of random trivia for genius — followed me into high school, hurting me all the while, which is ironic, because it was the only positive way I could think about myself.

I’m lucky to have found books and writing as lifelong passions, but that almost didn’t happen; in fact, I used to despise any writing task the teacher set for me, to the point of outright refusing to do the work. In my defence, I was trying very hard to be somewhere else at the time — mentally, that is. The idea of putting my feelings on paper, for all to see? I couldn’t conceive of anything more terrifying.

Harry Potter changed things. I was gifted The Deathly Hallows when it was first published, and even though I had no idea what was going on in the story (I hadn’t even seen The Order of the Phoenix yet), I thought it was wonderful — maybe because I was getting a sneak peek into a future movie. Since then, I’ve always had a book close at hand, and it wasn’t long before I started writing my own novels (more on those another time).

Voracious reading was, technically, another un-social activity that would consume my waking hours, but at least it was productive. My grades improved dramatically. I got good at writing essays. I became better at expressing myself, and I started to consider other people’s points of view. I made friends, lifelong bonds. I wouldn’t say I was happy at that stage of life — bullies tend to push back against things like improved mental health — but at least I was growing.

Looking back, I can’t help but wonder how close I came to disaster. I was 13 or so. If I’d left it any later, I doubt the outcome would have been so peachy. There are plenty of autistic adults with no friends, no employable skills, no human contact but ageing parents and rare, fleeting therapy sessions. Many of these people are quirky and brilliant, but there’s no happy ending for them.

Being an Autistic Adult.

Autism never goes away. It never gets ‘better’. It isn’t curable because it’s not a disease, despite what the vaccine deniers might tell you; autism is an intrinsic part of my neurological makeup, and living with it is a process of compromises.

I had to accept, early on, that I’m not the same sort of human being as the people around me. My brain is a different brand of brain: it makes different connections, processes different bits of data at different speeds. Things that seem obvious to you, need to be explained to me. I struggle to read a room, and I’m never quite sure if the person I’m talking to would really rather I shut up.

Put simply, my childhood experiences made me keenly aware of myself as an outsider. I need to watch for people’s reactions to anything I say or do, all the while navigating a maze of social cues and left-unsaids — but sooner or later, I’m always going to slip up. When you are differently-brained, it’s easy to misinterpret instructions, or to misjudge which thread of discussion is most important; and when you’re processing so much data at any one time, small-yet-vital points are going to slip under the radar. The result is being told off, being laughed at (‘laughing with you, not at you’ is another fun slogan I’ve learned to endure), and generally feeling stupid or useless for overlooking one point of data among hundreds.

As I grew into an adult, I got better at performing normal. Nowadays, only those who spend a lot of time around me can spot the signs of my condition: I seem confident, funny, sympathetic, and I make friends easily. As I write this, I can’t help but feel uneasy: it makes me wonder, and not for the first time, how much of my personality is genuine. In high-stress situations, the generic piece of advice is ‘relax and be yourself.’ Succeeding in life as an autistic person means learning not to be yourself, or at least creating a version of yourself that can exist in public — so, where does the real me end, and the performance begin? Are they one and the same? I’ll never know the answer to that question.

Being an autistic adult, then, means pretending I’m not autistic for the benefit of other people. It’s a lifelong, often exhausting performance, and the temptation to retreat into my shell is ever present. But, just like anyone else, I long for human contact, so the compromise is a necessary one.

Blessings & Curses: Redux.

Terry Pratchett wrote that humans need to learn to believe the little lies so they can believe in big ones. There’s something I wish I knew during the bad years; that I was far from the only person suffering from my condition. My parents were stumbling in the dark just like me, except they had to pretend everything was under control.

My dad confided in me, recently, how he used to cry — a lot — during those days when I would return from school after another worst day of my life, talking about footballs thrown at my head, being cornered and verbally abused, or being removed from class after another tantrum. These were practically daily occurrences, and they’ve left their lifelong marks on me, but I’ve never lacked for brilliant people willing to help, people who were alongside me in my suffering. Raising a child is hard, and raising a neurodivergent child is even harder. Can I blame my parents for wanting to believe in blessings, and not curses?

Most of the time, those bad years seem like a distant memory. I don’t see autism as my blessing or my curse; it’s just a part of me — a frustrating, limiting, often embarrassing part of me, but one just as vital as my eye colour or ethnicity. I’ve come to accept it and be content despite it, and I suppose that’s the best outcome I could hope for.

#autism #neurodivergent #mentalwellness

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essays-for-breakfast · 4 years

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Together, Always

Kiane Week Day Six: Promise

Everywhere the eye turned, a colorful bouquet of flowers decorated the forest. Trees seemed to bow under the load of thousands of roses, dandelions, and daisies. Daisies in particular, in garlands, stacked in bunches, or blooming between the grass blades. An uninformed guest might believe chance had let the flowers sprout from the earth for this special day, but Diane knew better. Creating flowers from thin air was an easy feat for the Fairy King.

With a little more time on her hands, she would have wandered through the flower garden for an hour or two, but for now, she had to make due with the view from high up on the Great Tree, the heart of the Fairy King’s Forest.

Diane stepped away from the window carved into the bark, brushed the hem of her dress back into place, and reminded herself that today had finally come. The realization didn’t want to settle in. Every other moment, she looked over her shoulder in expectation to find the Demon King or Cath Palug there. But the dream refused to dissolve. No one played tricks on her eyes or mind. The white silk and velvet hugged her fingertips, entirely real.

Today had finally come.

“How do I look?” Diane asked and turned on her heels. The elegant slippers left the faintest discomfort on her toes. Unsurprising after a life of worn-out boots.

Matrona placed her hands on Diane’s shoulders and fixated her gaze. “Wonderful. I’m so proud of you. And I’m sure your parents would be too if they were here. Are you excited?”

“Are you kidding? I can’t feel my knees anymore. I’ve waited for this day for a solid two centuries.”

Matrona laughed. “I can’t say I know how you feel, but you’ve looked more composed when fighting a horde of Demons. Relax. You’ve earned this.”

“I’m not sure this a good idea.” Diane’s eyes darted back towards the window. The sun neared its midday peak. So soon… “Scratch that, it’s a terrible idea. How many guests have we invited? It must be the entirety of Britannia at this point, and each and every single one of them will stare at me. We should have held the ceremony in private, just like Ban and Elaine plan to do. Why did I agree to this? Why didn’t you stop me?”

“Diane, look at me.” Diane released an uneven breath and then looked at her former mentor and the closest person she had to a parent. “The only reason these people will stare at you is because you look wonderful in this dress. You want to unite the Giant and Fairy Clan, don’t you?” Diane nodded. “Then give our people a symbol to hold onto and remind them that a bond between two different clans works. That it really works.”

“But won’t our people be appalled when I’m so small? Most of them have never seen me shrink to human size, not to mention the fact that none of them know what a marriage even is.”

“There’s nothing to worry about. We went over this a thousand times. Our people respect you for what you have achieved, not for your size. And should anyone do so much as cough at you the wrong way, well, I haven’t forgotten how to throw a solid right-hander, human size or not.”

“Thank you, Matrona. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“Stop talking nonsense, you would lead these blockheads just as well without me. This wedding tradition humans have might be a little strange and overblown if you ask me. But after a war, a little excess of splendor and happiness is just what all of us need. Ready?”

Diane swallowed. Sweat ran down her neck, and she tucked a loose strand back behind her ear.

“No,” she said. But she straightened her back despite the lump in her throat and gave Matrona her arm. The firm grip offered her something to focus on other than her racing heartbeat.

Half-leaned against Matrona, Diane managed the first steps on the moss-covered ground. If only she hadn’t agreed to hold the ceremony on top of the Great Tree. The mighty boughs formed a clearing large enough to hold five hundred people, sure, but the familiar music of the earth seemed awfully far away. What if Diane stumbled? What if she fell from the tree and broke her neck?

No time to think about all the horror scenarios that were throwing images around in her head, there the curtain of magenta-colored leaves waited for her. Matrona pushed the vines aside, and the glimmer of daylight replaced the dimness from inside the tree.

Rows upon rows of people had gathered between the massive boughs, a crowd of Giant heads and shimmering Fairy wings in green, yellow, and milk-colored shades. Course leather and finest silk hugged as members of the Giant and Fairy Clan stood or hovered next to each other, and in some cases on the shoulders of the other. Amidst the colorful parade, the handful of humans near the front almost disappeared. Unlike with their traditional weddings, no one had set up chairs or benches. And apart from an aisle aligned with daisies, the top of the Great Tree could not have fit another person. The tree’s magenta-colored leaves created a ceiling, grander than any human hall, and bathed the porcelain faces of Fairies in pink hues. Six hundred pairs of eyes stared at Diane.

But all the people blurred and vanished the moment she caught sight of King. He floated in front of an archway of ivy and dog roses, dressed in the white suit he had sown and re-sown to perfection over the past week. With the four ornate Fairy wings and the tidy locks in the color of fall leaves, he looked too good to be true. The biggest smile adorned his face when he and Diane locked eyes.

Only Matrona’s grip around her hand prevented Diane from storming forward and throwing her arms around him. The Great Tree’s scent of ever-lasting spring tingled her nostrils, enough to make her tipsy. A good thing she had declined the bottle of ale Meliodas had offered her this morning. To calm the nerves, he had said. Ha! Such methods might work for Ban, but Diane was already losing faith in her feet without the added punch of alcohol.

She straightened and listened to the heartbeat of the earth, several hundred yards below. Beat, pause, beat. She had practiced this part of the ceremony with Elizabeth countless times. Just one foot in front of the other. Sixty paces, and then she could hold his hand and never let go again.

The quivering in Diane’s legs ebbed as she walked down the aisle and decreased the distance between her and King. And although her toes throbbed in her slippers, she managed the way without a stumble. Meliodas and Ban grinned at her from King’s right side. Both looked surprisingly regal in their matching capes; indigo for Liones and crimson for Benwick. Ban had even found a shirt to cover his chest, a rare sight on the best of days. On the other side of the altar, Elizabeth and Elaine had taken position as Diane’s bridesmaids.

And then, finally, Diane reached King’s side. Matrona offered him Diane’s arm and sat down in the first row between Gerheade and Zalpa.

King squeezed Diane’s hand. “You are beautiful.”

His gentle fingers felt so natural when intertwined with hers. As if they always belonged there. “You’re one to talk.”

They both turned towards Gowther, who regarded their hushed exchange with a smile. King and Diane had appointed him as their wedding guide – or priest as humans called them – the instance Elizabeth had discussed this role with them. No one fit this task better. With a nod, King and Diane signaled Gowther to begin.

“We have gathered here for both an historical event and a deeply personal affair,” he began. Since he had memorized around three dozen texts regarding human marriages in the past week, he didn’t need a book to regurgitate passages from. “Never before in the history of Britannia have the Giant and Fairy Clan forged a bond of the kind these two people in front of you have knitted. Mistrust has always stood between the five clans, as historians tell us. Mistrust will always stand between different clans, they argue. Let us prove these stories wrong. Today, we celebrate the union of the Giant and Fairy Clan, a sense of respect and comradery forged in the fires of the Holy War. Today, we celebrate the union of their leaders, who have ensured the survival of their people through the battles they fought as members of the Seven Deadly Sins. Today, we celebrate the union of two people who have overcome all odds and whose love endured centuries of separation and hardship. Many of us have watched them a portion of their way towards each other. And now they have asked us to be their witnesses as they dare to make the most important step. The promises they exchange today will forever resonate within all our hearts. Diane, Queen of the Giants, will you begin?”

Diane collected her missing confidence in Gowther’s encouraging look. And when she turned towards King, her King, her one and only love, the words tumbled out of her mouth all on their own.

“Even when I had nothing, I had you,” she said. “You were my friend in times of isolation, my light in the dark, my teacher and protector. It’s only through you that I became the person I am today. You’re the sole reason I’m still here. Back when we were kids, I never told you how I felt, but I want you to know this: King, I love you. I love you so much that I feel like half of me is missing every time you aren’t near. Whatever happens, I promise to always stay by your side and support you in any way I can. No gods or armies or loss of memory will stop me. From this day on, I’m yours. The same as I have been for all these years. Will you be mine?”

Tears shimmered in King’s eyes when he nodded. “I promise.”

“Then,” Gowther said, “Harlequin, King of the Fairies, what do you offer in return?”

“Everything I have and everything I am. Diane, I’ve always loved you, and to have met you all these years ago is the most wonderful gift of my life. You gave me shelter when I had nowhere to turn, you showed me a warmth and a kindness I had never seen before. It’s only thanks to you that I learned to forgive and not judge others by their looks or their past allegiances. Nothing can ever compensate the happiness bursting my heart every time I’m near you. I’ve made mistakes, I’ve let you down, and I have taken your memories from you. But if you will give me another chance, I promise you will always have a home to return to and a shoulder to lean on and a hand to hold yours. No matter what the future brings, I’m yours. From now until my final breath and long after that. Will you be mine?”

Diane’s heart raced in her ribcage, and through their interlaced fingers, she felt King’s heartbeat in sync with her own. “I promise.”

While they battled their tears and the desire to fling their arms around one another, Gowther continued. He needed to adjust his glasses twice before the calm returned to his voice, and even then, joy swung with each of his words. “As symbol of your union and your undying bond, you will now exchange the crowns of your clans. From this day forward, you will lead your people as one and begin an era of peace and understanding.”

On cue, Ban and Elizabeth stepped forward, each with a velvet cushion in hand. With shaky fingers, Diane took the circlet of unrefined copper from Elizabeth. A multitude of jewels adorned the crown, rubies, garnets, and other stones found deep within the earth. Elizabeth placed a supportive hand on Diane’s shoulder before she returned to Elaine.

Ban likewise handed King a flower crown with a hundred blooms in all colors of the rainbow. And although Ban saved himself a snarky comment, the nudge of his elbow hit the mark. Freed from his stupor, King placed the flower crown upon Diane’s head. Then Diane tiptoed to return the favor.

One of her slippers escaped her foot, but she barely noticed.

“You may now—”

The rest of Gowther’s word remained unheard because Diane threw her arms around King’s neck, and he bowed forward to seal her lips with a kiss. Their first kiss as a married couple, the taste of raspberries and gold Osmanthus and an unparalleled joy.

Cheers erupted from the crowd, applause from the hands of human, Giant, Fairy, Demon, and Goddess. A shower of magenta-colored leaves rained down on them. Their wedding bells took on the form of the wind and the beat of the earth, a most marvelous chime Diane only heard once in her life while she held King, and he held her.

She stroked his hair while deepening the kiss.

Today had finally come.

#kianeweek #kianeweek2020 #nnt #nanatsu no taizai #nnt fanfiction #my writing #king #diane #king x diane #kiane wedding #my take on the wedding #has anyone actually written this scene before?#or is everyone waiting for Nakaba to show it?#why are my paragraphs so long?!#why does everyone monologue so much?!

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viktuuriangstbang · 5 years

Text

Viktuuri Angst Bang 2019 - Masterlist

Here is the extensive list of the incredible and angsty works created for the Viktuuri Angst Bang. Thank you to all our beloved participants for seeing to the success of this event.

If you participated and you do NOT see your work here or have found an error, please email corrections to [email protected].

Open the ‘Read More’ to check ratings, warnings, tags, and summaries.

The Affair by Clarinda. Art by DyeingDoll.

Danse Macabre by AurumAuri. Art by Bectara

By Chance One Turns by Louciferish. Art by Izzyisosaki.

Bound by you by KuraiOfAnagura. Art by R-Tengu.

Our Time, Gone Forever by AJ Wolf. Art (1,2) by Elianthos.

Body of Evidence by Revampired. Art by Eli Grey.

And all pieces fall right into place by cottonee. Art by mferret9.

Faceless by allollipoppins. Art by Heavy Henry.

embedded in my chest (and it hurts to hold) by Ace of Japan. Art by Baph.

Can You Hear My Heartbeat? by SchalaDresdan. Art by Bectara.

you're with me (not someone else) by Adrianna99. Art by Kathe.

Conventionally Yours by Songbirdsara.

I See the Light by black_tea_blue_pens. Art by Bectara.

The Cost of Winning by Daffy. Art by Diem.

Find me in me (Act 1) by LenaLawlipop. Art by Clarinda.

When We Collide by topcatnikki. Art by Clarinda.

Under the Midnight by Mazarin221b. Art (1, 2, 3) by Elianthos.

Genie In The Bottle by PaintingWithWords. Art by smolkristen.

All That We Hold of Heaven by Kazul9. Art by Purin.

Appalachian Harmony by Heavy Henry. Art by cupromantic.

over the oaks by owlishann. Art by Hecate Mist.

The Truth About Agape by Kastuuki. Art by Purin.

Red Cuffs of Fate by Gabzjones. Art by Cerisebio.

strange as angels by astudyinrose. Art by Bullsfish.

The Brightness of Gold and Silver by Katineto. Art by Ace of Japan.

Drag Your Soul to Shore by LinneaKou. Art by Baph.

Trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday by Briapia @briapia95. Art by DyeingDoll.

To Love And To Honour (Esp version) by Midnight_Luna. Art by Caramel.

When You Really, Really Miss Me by cleverlittleradiator. Art by Caramel.

Sing to me like steel by Ravensmores. Art by Impatvish.

Pleurosis by SnarkyBreeze. Art by rettlecake.

Whiskey Lullaby by Rae. Art by Andi.

*Summaries are trimmed to fit better; please visit fics on AO3 to view full details. **Chapter counts are as of January 16th.

The Affair by @clarinda0110 . Art by @dyeingdoll

E, 20k, Complete, Series. Canon AU - real world. Yuuri sits down to be interviewed for a retrospect of the career of Viktor Nikiforov. He has quite a story to tell.

Danse Macabre by @aurum-auri. Art by @bectara.

E, 110k, Complete. AU - serial killer. Warnings: Violence, Non-con. When Yuuri finds himself in the clutches of an infamous serial killer, everything he thought he knew suddenly is called into question.

By Chance One Turns by @louciferish. Art by izzyisozaki.

M, 90k, Complete, Series. Canon divergence - Kid fic. In 2011, Victor Nikiforov disappeared from the world of figure skating. Desperate to send money home, Yuuri looks for a job in the US. (...)The last thing he expects is for Victor to be the one who opens the door.

Bound by you by @kuraiofanagura. Art by @rtengu.

M, 4/5, WIP. AU - historical arranged marriage, omegaverse. Warnings: Violence. Victor was so much weaker than this omega. Because he was escorting his brother Yuri to marry the love of his life, Yuuri, the alpha prince of the land of the Red Sun.

Our Time, Gone Forever by @ajwolf84. Art (1,2) by @bowldeepfannish.

T, 5/6, WIP. AU - Archeology, time travel. It's the archeological find of the century and Viktor still can't quite believe he's a part of it.

Body of Evidence by @revampired. Art by @unicornsovermyrainbow.

E, 44k, Complete. AU - Jack the Ripper, omegaverse. Warnings: Violence. Lost and alone upon arrival in London, omega medical student Yuuri is rescued by and befriends a famous local prostitute, Victor Nikiforov.

And all pieces fall right into place by @v-katsuki. Art by @mferret9.

M, 4k, Complete. Canon divergence - after Barcelona. After the Grand Prix Final, Viktor and Yuuri go separate ways for the rest of the season. They try to make their long-distance relationship work while both prepare to win a gold medal.

Faceless by @allollipoppins. Art by @snarkonice.

T, 1/10, Hiatus. AU - Werewolf, soulmates, dystopia. Warnings: Violence. A beast roamed the streets of Hasetsu come nightfall and preyed on all whose face it looked upon. (...) A new disappearance gives Yuuri an opportunity to get to the heart of the problem, and face his own - not without consequences.

embedded in my chest (and it hurts to hold) by @theliteraryluggage. Art by @anonbaph.

M, 105k, Complete. AU - Artists are millennials, hanahaki disease. In which Yuuri falls in love, then falls apart, one petal at a time.

Can You Hear My Heartbeat? by @schaladresdan. Art by @bectara.

M, 7k, Complete, Series. AU - Androids, temporary character death. In this world, androids are commonplace. At 18, people of this world can choose whether they want to be ‘transferred’ to an ‘transfer androids’ or not when their human bodies die.

you're with me (not someone else) by @iwritebetterthanispeak. Art by @mandolinearts.

G, 2k, Complete. Canon divergence - Injury. Yuuri falls on the quad flip. He and Viktor end up kissing anyway

Conventionally Yours by @songbirdsarawrites.

T, 10/11, WIP. AU - Artists. Yuuri Katsuki is fascinated by charming young artist Victor Nikiforov when he encounters him behind an artist booth at a convention. Nearly two years later, with a table of his own, Yuuri gets the chance to meet his hero.

I See the Light by black_tea_blue_pens. Art by @bectara.

T, 15k, Complete. AU - The Little Mermaid AU. Warnings: MCD. Victor is the Crown Prince of the abyss merfolk. In order to escape from his work and obligations, he makes trips searching for something. He discovers the surface and a young boy who likes to dance at the beach.

The Cost of Winning by @narcissuspseudonarcissus. Art by Diem.

M, 1/10, WIP. AU - Fairy tale curses. Warnings: Violence. Everyone on the continent of Bayuria could see the storm clouds on the horizon as they watched the King of Leroy stripping his lands of resources, and his people of their dignity.

Find me in me (Act 1) by LenaLawlipop. Art by @clarinda0110.

M, 5/6, WIP. Canon divergence - suddendly supernatural elements, character study, isolation. I was at the banquet, wasn't I? At Sochi? My head hurts a little bit. I think I need to get up and figure out what's going on. It's... probably for the best.

When We Collide by @topcatnikki. Art by @clarinda0110 .

M, 24k, Complete. Canon compliant - post series, relationship problems. Days laid in bed with their fingers twined and their lips connecting had turned into hurried kisses to the cheek as Yuuri rushed out of the door. Hours of conversation late into the night had become muttered 'goodnights' and waking up to empty beds.

Under the Midnight by @mazarin221b . Art (1, 2, 3) by @bowldeepfannish.

E, 2/5, WIP. AU - Fortune teller, magical realism. Yuuri Katsuki is a ballet teacher by day and fortune teller by night. Thing is, he is actually a real fortune teller. Into his strange little life he's built for himself walks one drunk figure skater, getting his fortune told on a dare.

Genie In The Bottle by @paintingwithwords. Art by @smolkristen.

E, 5/14, WIP, series (3). AU - Epidemiology. [Zebras among the horses followup] Things are going well for Yuuri Katsuki. But danger looms on the horizon, as it always does for someone in his line of work. When people start getting sick, Yuuri must race to find out what has been set loose... and if there's any way of stopping it.

All That We Hold of Heaven by @kazul9. Art by Purin.

T, 20k, Complete. AU - Fallen angel. Falling—the act of it, the emotion of it—means a lot of different things to different people.For Yuuri, it means everything.

Appalachian Harmony by @snarkonice. Art by @cupromantic.

Not rated, 15k, Complete. AU - Apalachian trial. Warnings: MCD. Newly sober and almost forty, Viktor Nikiforov realizes that he has to make a change. Never a fan of half-measures, he quits his job in corporate law, rents his swanky Manhattan condo to his younger cousin and takes off to hike the Appalachian Trail.

over the oaks by @owlishann. Art by @hecate-mist.

T, 27k, Complete. AU - Spacetrip, time travel. Books have always called Yuuri, ever since he was a child. So when he gets the chance to answer the call, he does, even if it implies crossing the milky way in a tiny spaceship with Victor Nikiforov —the man Yuuri has been pining after since they met— by his side.

The Truth About Agape by @kastuuki. Art by Purin.

M, 2/7, WIP. AU - Superhero, temporary charactter dead. Looking at the picture in the newspaper, the superhero is carrying Victor in the most cliché way they could ever find themselves in: a bridal carry. It has become an iconic photo and the city just ran with it. Everyone loves a good love story, even if it’s not entirely true.

Red Cuffs of Fate by @gabzjones. Art by Cerisebio.

E, 38k, Complete. AU - Crime and police, soulmates. It was his first job as detective; hunting down the ever elusive Mercury, a thief who got his kicks from simply getting away with the crime. Yuuri had gotten close. Really close. And then he noticed the mark of the soulmate bond on his hand.

strange as angels by astudyinrose. Art by @bullsfish.

M, 1/?, WIP. AU - Just like Heaven AU, apparent MCD. Yuuri has a traumatic fall, and he's absent from the rest of the series. After Victor's fifth straight title at Worlds he feels strangely despondent, so he decides to leave St. Petersburg. The first night in his new apartment, he's haunted by the ghost of a beautiful Japanese man he's never met before.

The Brightness of Gold and Silver by @katineto. Art by @theliteraryluggage.

M, 7/16, WIP. AU - Royal, medieval monastery, omegaverse. After the death of his husband the king, Viktor—childless and powerless—finds himself relegated to a small convent far removed from the royal court and its political games. As he struggles to adapt to convent life, he begins to notice how desperately he desires one brother's compabullsny—even to the point of sin.

Drag Your Soul to Shore by LinneaKou. Art by @anonbaph.

M, 36k, Complete. Canon divergence - supernatural, curses. Just before Katsuki Yuuri advances to his first-ever Grand Prix Final, the skating world is sent reeling when a stranger destroys Viktor Nikiforov’s life in more ways than one, resulting in him being banned from competing and gaining the hatred of everyone he knows.

Trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday by @briapia95. Art by @dyeingdoll.

T, 1/?, WIP. AU - Kyoukai no Kanata AU. The youmu stops and Viktor, vision blurred and confused, notices something he never thought he would see again. A sword, slightly curved to the back, red, and clearly made of blood is emerging from the youmu’s front. He knows who that kind of power belongs to, but he can’t bring himself to believe.

To Love And To Honour (Esp version) by Midnight_Luna. Art by @caramel-draws.

T, 1/?, WIP. Canon compliant - Disney's Coco AU. Warnings: MCD. On the day of the Obon, Hikari Katsuki'll have to embark on a journey without precedent to the Land of the Dead, uncover the secrets that shattered her little family and find the real reason why her father never let her go near a skating rink.

When You Really, Really Miss Me by @cleverlittleradiator. Art by @caramel-draws.

M, 2/4, WIP. Canon compliant. Warnings: MCD. In which Yuuri dies, Viktor lives, and he's not the only one left to deal with the aftermath.

Sing to me like steel by @ravensmores. Art by @impatvish.

E, 2/2, Complete. AU - Hospital.

“I just know I’d hate myself even more if I didn’t tell you.” Victor’s voice is surprisingly hesitant as he wipes his face, hand still resting softly in Yuuri’s. “If- if I didn’t ask if there was still a chance.”

“You killed people Victor.”

Pleurosis by @kingfisherunion. Art by @rettlecake.

T, 1/?, WIP. AU - Hanahaki.

Viktor doesn't take Yuuri up on his offer at the Sochi banquet, but someone else does. Depersonalized, depressed, and doubting that he'll make it through another season of marketing himself to an uncaring public, Viktor finds himself ill at Worlds, and nothing he does seems to help. When Yakov takes on a new skater, Viktor's health takes a turn for the worse and he's suddenly faced with a dire choice.

Whiskey Lullaby by @justrae2010. Art by Andi.

E, 8k, Complete. Warnings: MCD.

The divorce papers had come through a month later. Yuuri didn’t come back.

Victor needed a drink.

#viktuuri angst bang #viktuuri angst bang 2019 #Yuri on Ice #YoI #YoI events

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davidjjohnston3 · 3 years

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The trees are straight and true here, and the help comes without seeming harpoons. I considered some insane things which were ‘above my pay-grade’ and as is my wont reflected on the state and implications of my former profession and what old friends and pharons meant to me. Right now think that my core goal in life is not to blow myself up. As a former would-have-been SecState said, ‘I love so many people.’ I am only sad that trying as I did to uproot that carrot of love just now could have resulted in the demolition of an entire root-network, of at least my own excision therefrom.

‘Some people’ want revenge against life for not going their way or not being the color or fragrance or face shape they like or feel it ought to be - ‘no that is not what I meant at all.’ They will never hold a life reliable which doesn’t resemble their ideal, imago, or ‘soul-idol’ &c. The meaning of the name ‘Cordelia’ as in King Lear is something like ‘heart’s ideal.’ I was driving and considering a novel that I feel touched absolute supreme greatness without knowing it or in a way that could mislead some readers Mrs. Mary HK Choi’s Yolk a novel I looked forward for a very long time. I had all these references and fractal coreferences and forgot about actual birds, like what does the chick eat in the egg.

‘Blood is the life’ - I liked etymologies for a long time and my intellectualism caused me acute trouble in Confirmation Class at Morrow Memorial United Methodist Church in about 1998. ‘Pastor’ Gretchen taught us the word root ‘consacramentum’ which comes from dipping the hand in blood in the concave of a Roman shield - those huge rectangular shields which could be used in formation as ‘testudo’ or turtle to stop projectile weapons and allowed soldiers to make pin-point stabbing attacks from a ‘matrix(?)’ of high protection. I forget what kind of animal was killed to pool the blood in the shield but it might have been a rabbit.

I was reading ‘Revelation,’ I don’t recall what everyone else was talking about. Some kind of community service project, interview your parents, buy a wedding-magazine and make a whole plan for how you would get married and how much it would cost (and while you’re at it describe how you would 1) restore a classic Shelby Cobra using newspaper and Krazy Glue 2) drive foresaid drop-top to the Moon).

The Pastor was a pipe-smoker named ‘Painter’ who used the NY Lotto’s ‘Hey you never know’ slogan to describe sth like Pascal’s Wager; OTOH St. Paul teaches us that everyone is born knowing God exists (Romans). The problem is that people fail or omit to glorify Him or subsequently ruin or betray their own best efforts through blasphemy, turning or falling away, cowardice, denial, attachment to certain sins or being ‘yoked unequally’ with non-believers.

I reflected starting in 2008 that I was shy of my ‘first love’ (rather, the woman I fell in love with at 14); at the time I gloried or reveled in the shyness like a Wallace Stevens poem that ends, ‘And not to have written a book.’ I could’ve written a few books by now or walked away from book-writing or changed my mind / specified which kind of book I might have written and for whom.

I remember always admiring the ‘magic’ of literature and feeling sad I had no characters or world of my own to work magic with. Star Wars and my own life and later much else supplied ‘materia poetica’ and till the point that I began to think in fiction and became addicted to interpreting my own in ‘story-ideas’ although that is not to say that what happened around me didn’t happen.

America is trying to become a better country in numerous valences, loving our neighbors, holding each other accountable. ‘Justice’ with or without the marks is important. It is a divine Judgment that Covid fell on the world even if eventually we all shall learn who devised the virus or leaked it or modulated its mutations. I was eager to rejoin the world feeling I might overcome my mental illness but I mishandled specific questions and tests. I ended up turning people against me and creating monsters more than ever as well as perhaps terminally sabotaging any chance I might’ve had of fulfilling a dream or making good on the past. I have a lot of opinions on the CCP but should’ve focused on love and family and personal responsibilities as in the past or at least held to my long-standing feeling that Chinese people deserve better rather than associating myself with hard-liners and racists or those who would simplify issues in order to bring about ultimate victory without temperance or concern for the side-effects.

In Milwaukee where I lived for far too long everyone’s spirit - electric, intellectual, visory(?), informational et cetera seemed to be militating against everybody else’s. There were fake vaccines, radioactive ice cream (or thermogenic ice-cream), gun-battles as usual, lines crossed, all kinds of scores that people tried to settle. I also realized that the police were probably tracking for years my various attempts to obtain weapons from samurai-swords to handguns though the purpose was defensive and I can only trust at this point that some good lawyer will prevent the bad lawyers and cops from presenting the most damning circumstantial case they could. People in Milwaukee own AK-47′s, automatic shotguns, probably all kinds of explosives, improvised chemical weapons and (’our Black brothers’ - Schopenhauer) biological weapons - the cops don’t stand a chance that I can tell and even the National Guard perhaps could get outclassed by retired military. I had told myself for years that it was only the ghetto’s that bore witness to this paramilitary equipage and that the retired SEAL Team 4 member with the ‘Stop Socialism’ and ‘Jobs Not Mobs’ sign on his front lawn would protect me from the Maoist-Covid Night of the Long Knives but I feel I tempted God a lot in the past.

I read all these books and took to heart that people thought I was just entertaining myself with but now as then I should’ve guarded my heart or not begged the question of what others thought about me or saw in me. I literally felt of late ‘I am the anti-Christ’ - good-looking at times, preach world peace, ‘form of godliness,’ want to be friends with everyone, build bridges - and had to rack my brains to come up with an ‘anti-Christology’ and science / concept of the Whore of Babylon just to make sure it was more than me alone. I also wished to simplify my past and help kids ‘get life right the right time’ doing battle with philosophies that opposed this consciously or otherwise but stepped into numerous minefields and also tried running when I should’ve flown over.

Everyone’s trying to get rich and build back better and I profoundly admired the American President for doing, finally, apparently, what presidents had tried to decades even as I remember ‘Flowers 1881′ a poem that implies that basically teachers can do only so much before turning their kids loose in a world no one has yet fixed and which others keep breaking; from a California almanac that also instructed me that the same old debates and cross-fires and burdens plague teachers as always, not that it is an ‘impossible profession’ but honestly that God won’t let us establish Heaven on Earth or at least not me or at least not America or at least not teachers who savor the experience of being a teacher or the beauty of their students more than the outcomes or commitment or intrinsic value of the work or the confirmed identity / vocation / personhood of the instructor. There are always new and old at any rate and different cultures all describe the teacher as needing to keep both alive; as do descriptions of higher education and scholarship.

I questioned my qualifications / background and wondered about re-training but can’t afford tuition anywhere so I am trying to cling to the core of my capabilities / blessings. ABC and XYZ. The glory of the soul or souls.

I kept theorizing Russian literature as well as weapons-systems and ultimate destiny, sailing ships, noble names, divisions, the flaming sword of Archangel Gabriel, the mission of Russia today with respect to the world order. I am also simply trying to be healthy and stop for a while trying to parse out who was the love of my life or what it still left in terms of action or redemption or justice or surrender or mitigation or meeting new friends or propounding the kind of understand with carefulness I have believed in - ‘saving people from themselves.’ Driving up here I remember being distressed at a gas-station in California when I was about 5 or 6 since the pump was leaking, being very upset with my parents and family. In those days I also disliked animal-cruelty though the world today seems so depraved and deprived with respect to human interests I would make no bones about neglecting most all animals outside of military or police use. When I was about 3 I saw white kids set a frog on fire; my mother has a history of running over cats.

I dislike winging it and taking risks. There is a song I call to myself ‘Run Away’ though its title is ‘Paradise.’ I am not a utopian communist for believing in secular justice and its instrinsic value... I wonder whether when I helped people in the past there were always strings attached or maybe I was just trying to close my case and discharge my responsibilities too rapidly without allowing others to gestate or make an abode in my heart besides and beyond what I could get out of them, glorifying myself, or tell others about.

What is motherhood? What is travail? Is there a kind of problematic ‘female gaze’ as feminists talk of a ‘male gaze’ associated with sadism or fascination / fetishism? It’s psychology which is not my first love at all since it appeared pretentious and distracting and retarding (in the literal sense of slowing down).

I also remembered reading various things about Victor Hugo whose ‘93′ is an important novel today due to its techno-utopianism, feminism or ‘new model egalitarianism,’ fusion of revolution and religion, etc. But I had forgotten ‘Les Miserable’ with its themes of ransom or eventual recompense, genealogies, caution, and more none of which is to negate the various complains against me or death-warrant from China or my parents with their partial private readings of Proverbs (’Let’s stone David for embarrassing us / not doing precisely what we want’ - no mention of witnesses, tribunals, questions, mitigation-hearings, actual counsels of judges etc. but just American-German ‘coalitions of the willing’ ‘run and get my gun’ ‘team-building’ etc. which in my experience ends with tanks on the street and military dictatorships as when at the end of the CultRev PLA regulars were gunning down former justice-fanatics who’d been stripping women, kicking pregnant stomachs etc. as in The Vagrants). Naturally having grown up in a family fascinated with Lee Kwanyew and Arnold Schwarzenegger and conflicted about ‘fascism’ I had reservations about the United States’ ability to suddenly dress up and ‘stand at perpetual moral attention’ but I guess my own problems are just that I am poor with a rich kid’s mind and no one really likes me except strangers and faraway friends who were easily spooked and/or just couldn’t be there. ‘King of South shall attack and King of North shall crush them with chariots &c.’ - in the end righteous will prevail whichever side of the line I end up on in the final assessment. I also remembered today a novel called ‘The Old Capital’ about a bad artist father, a virgin daughter, straight and true pines. Some other aspects of this novel are silly as well as criminally problematic and there's a lot of that going on in new-old old news America / Babylon or at least to quote my favorite lawyer / leave lawyering movie 'First let's get out of Milwaukee.' Miss the land of June snow.

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