old crones

What we really need is an adaptation of the original 1740 The Beauty and the Beast

So were you aware that the The Beauty and the Beast story we all know is a heavily abridged and rewritten version of a much longer novella by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve?  And that a lot of the plot holes existing in the current versions exist because the 1756 rewrite cut out the second half of the novella, which consisted entirely of the elaborate backstory that explains all the weird shit that happened before?  And that the elaborate backstory is presented in a way that’s kind of boring because the novel had only just been invented in 1740 and no one knew how they worked yet, but contains a bazillion awesome ideas that beg for a modern retelling?  And that you are probably not aware that the modern world needs this story like air but the modern world absolutely needs this story like air?  Allow me to explain:

The totally awesome elaborate backstory that explains Beauty and the Beast

  • Once upon a time there was a king, a queen, and their only son
  • But while the prince was still in his infancy, in a neat reversal of how these fairy tales usually go, the king tragically died, leaving his wife to act as Regent until their son reaches maturity
  • Unfortunately, the rulers of all the lands surrounding them go, “Hmm, the kingdom is ruled by a woman now, it must be weak, time for an invasion!”
  • And the Queen goes, “Well, if I let some general fight all these battles for me, he’ll totally amass enough fame and power to make a bid for the throne; if I want to protect my son’s crown, I have no choice but to take up arms and lead the troops myself!
  • (Btw, I want to stress that this woman is not Eowyn or Boudica and nothing in the way her story is presented suggests that she had any interest martial exploits before or in any way came to enjoy them during these battles.  This is a perfectly ordinary court lady who would much rather be embroidering altar covers for the royal chapel and playing with her child until necessity made her go, “Oh no, this sucks, I guess I have to become a Warrior Queen now” and she just happened to kick ass at it anyway.)
  • And the Queen totally kicked ass, but the whole “twice as good for half the credit” thing meant that no matter how many battles she won, potential enemies refused to take her and her army seriously until she had defeated them so no sooner would she fend off one invasion than another one would pop up on a different border.
  • So she spent the majority of her young son’s life away from the castle leading armies, but it was OK because she left him in the care of her two best friends, who just happen to be fairies!  This was an awesome idea because a) fairies have magic, and therefore are like the best people to protect the prince from any threats and b) fairies consider themselves to be so above humanity that the lowest fairy outranks the highest mortal, so they’d have no interest in taking a human throne.  Good thing they were both good fairies instead of one good and one evil one!
  • (Spoiler:  they were not both good fairies.)
  • So the two fairies basically take turns raising the prince until he’s old enough to rule.  And on the eve of his twenty-first birthday, the evil older one comes into the prince’s bedroom.
  • “So listen, kid.  You’re about to become king, your mother’s on her way home from the war to see you crowned, and I have a third piece of good news for you!  You see, I’ve actually been spending so much time here lately because Fairyland’s become a bit too hot to hold me for reasons totally not related to me being secretly evil.  And if I have to hang in the human world, I might as well reside in the upper echelons of it, so even though as a powerful fairy I completely eclipse your puny human status in a staggeringly unimaginable way, since you’re about to be king and since my premonition that I should stick this whole guardianship thing out because you would be hot one day has totally proved accurate (go me), I will graciously lower myself to allowing you to marry me.  Please feel free to grovel at my feet in gratitude.  (Btw, we can totally start the wedding night now, we’ll tell your mother about it when she arrives tomorrow.)”

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he’s the beauty; she’s the beast

so i’m sure the remake of a timeless classic that disney is about to roll out is going to be great and all

but here’s another way we could do things:

he’s the beauty

she’s the beast

for a movie who’s central theme is inner beauty, it doesn’t really do anything to support that, you know? so how about this: adam, our prince turned beast, isn’t an inhospitable monster. because this back story doesn’t make any sense – why is the young prince of this land alone, in a castle, only to be caught unaware by a witch?

so how about this – this is pseudo france, right, so these royals do what their real life counterparts did. they flee. the cruel, greedy king and queen flee and leave their young son behind with their staff. their son who is kind and soft hearted and totally unfit to rule any kingdom (never mind that they’re literally running away from their own people). not only that – they trade their son for their freedom, trade their kingdom for their freedom. to the witch.

so the witch comes, and she doesn’t disguise herself as a crone, goes to him looking as lovely and young as her magic keeps her. but our prince adam has a talent, one many cast-aside, neglected children have developed – the ability to see people for who they really are, and he knows this is no kind young woman in need of his help. he refuses to let her in – and there’s this little twist to the magic, that she can only enter the palace grounds and claim her prize if she’s welcomed in a as a guest, and he, the young master of this castle, won’t let her in.

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john and sherlock telling the story of how they met as a bedtime story, featuring: 

  • bickering over whether it’s dishonest or just dramatic effect to start with “it was a dark and stormy night” because “it was a very mild january afternoon” just doesn’t have the same ring to it
  • john as the Poor Broken Knight, which sherlock takes offense to because obviously john is the Knight of Light, to which john responds that he wasn’t the Knight of Light back then, he was a dreadfully poor knight with a broken brain that none of the healers or sages could fix, to which sherlock huffs but he allows it. 
  • sherlock as the Prince. “just the Prince?” “well, what else? the Consulting Prince?” “i rather thought the Pirate Prince.” “now who’s being dishonest. fine. you were the Pirate Prince.”
  • mike stamford as the fairy godmother, who tells the Knight that he will need to save the Prince three times, and the Knight is like, come on. who’d want me to save them? and the fairy godmother laughs and says, you’re the second person to say that to me today (because, you see, he also told the Prince that the Prince needed to save the Knight).
  • so the Knight agrees to go meet the Prince, and as soon as he meets the Prince he really does want to save him so when the Prince tells him to meet him at the Old Crone’s Tower the next day, he goes. “you better not let mrs hudson hear you calling her that.” “it’s fine, the Old Crone took an herbal soother an hour ago, she’ll be out like a light.”
  • anyway, the Knight goes to meet the Prince, and Tower is wonderful but kind of a mess, and it’s still a mess honestly and it would be nice if the Prince would take the rubbish out on his own sometimes. but the Knight can’t possibly imagine that the Prince will want him around, or he’ll get tired of having a broken Knight around soon at least, or– “john. john, no, even then, it was important. i wanted you here. it felt. it felt important.” 
  • then the Hunter interrupts, and tells them that a Dragon has been terrorizing the village. so they go to the scene, and the Knight learns that the Prince has the power of Sight, where he can See all kinds of things that other people can’t. “it’s not a magic trick, john.” “it felt like one.”
  • the Hunter’s Hounds bark and nip at the Prince’s heels, but the Knight isn’t sure if he needs to save the Prince from them, so he says nothing. “i should think not. anderson and donovan? i could handle them.” “oh yeah sure you did. mmmhmm. right.”  
  • so the Prince used his Sight to understand what had happened to the villager. “though the Prince did need the Knight’s help to See it all.” but then: poof! the Prince disappears! “sorry! i wasn’t used to having someone with me!” “i know, i know. it was very mysterious, though.”
  • and the Knight is kidnapped by the Wizard of Spooky Bureaucracy, stop laughing i couldn’t think of a better name, who threatens the Knight and the Prince. but the Knight defeated him by passing his test of loyalty to the Prince, and the Wizard of Spooky Bureaucracy transported him back to the Old Crone’s Tower as a prize, where the Prince was waiting for him. and so the Knight defeated the first evil. 
  • then the Prince took the Knight for a grand Italian feast, and cast a dangerous spell on him that healed his brain and let him run again. the Knight thought maybe the Prince was hitting on him, and he tried to hit on the Prince back, but the Prince– “panicked.” “oh, is that what you call that?” “yes. i hardly expected to get as far as i had.” “and the next seven years were just what? extended panic?” “…basically?” 
  • once the Knight was healed, they went back to the Old Crone’s Tower, where the Knight wanted very very much to kiss the Prince but they’re interrupted again by the Hunter and his Hounds. and the Hounds sniff and dig and unearth the Prince’s past, which was very rude. “i never did figure out why you stayed, after you found out, you know. about all of that. with your sister.” “i know. i thought about it a lot actually, about whether i was just signing up for more of the same. i’d given up on her because it was just a waste of my time, you know?” “so why did you stay?” “because i knew with you, it would never be a waste of my time. i would always fight for you. i will always fight for you.” “you’ll never have to fight that fight again, john. i promise.” “but if i did. if i did. i would fight it. you’re not perfect; i don’t expect you to be. i just…i only expect that you will let me fight for you.” “john. john. mmphhhhhhhmmm” “mmmm” “mmmmm” 
  • okay okay okay. anyway. the Knight knew then that he did have to defeat the Hounds, and he did defeat them by believing in the Prince. by listening to the Prince, even when the Hounds barked at him not to. and so the second evil was defeated. “and the Prince had just about fallen in love with the Knight.” “shh. we’re not there yet.” “i was, though. i was.” “i know. me too.” 
  • and then they had to battle the Dragon, who managed to steal the Prince away while making it look like the Prince had abandoned the Knight. but the Knight knew better already, and knew that the Prince needed him, and so he hailed a chariot and raced after them. and he arrived just in time to see the Prince doing something very, extremely, insanely stupid, and so he pulled out his sword and shot it straight into the Dragon’s heart. “it was stupid.” “i know it was. i haven’t a clue what you thought you were doing.” “i dunno. either i was right, and i deserved everything i thought we maybe could be, or i was wrong, and you wouldn’t have to go through the disappointment of me.” “sherlock holmes-watson. that is the stupid thing you have ever said in your life. come here.” 
  • and so the Dragon was defeated, and the Knight saved the Prince, and the Prince saved the Knight. 
  • and they didn’t live happily ever after, not quite yet. but they did start living, and that’s the thing about endings after all: you have to live through the beginnings and the middles to find out just how brilliant and fantastic and good the endings can be.
[Naked Noises]

Ash’s Writing Challenge (3) - President Negan 

Negan x Female Reader  

A/N: oh gosh I’m super nervous to post this lol  I am actually really excited to participate in this challenge! The work I’ve read so far has been so so amazing, there’s a lot of wonderful talent in this fandom! – Thank you to the lovely @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash for bringing us all together and inspiring us all to write & read such awesome works! xoxo : ) — FYI I’m not quite sure if my political facts are accurate I apologize in advance *I appreciate any & all feedback! hope you like it xx :) 

** NSFW/SMUT

(gifs by @vivienvalentino)

•••

Six long months of sacrifice finally paid off. 

After working excruciating hours at an internship that weeded out the rest, it left you as the last woman standing. Now, you were going to be working right under the most powerful man in the whole world. 

You had to admit, this job did not sound ideal in the beginning. In fact, you even questioned your own feminist beliefs for even entertaining the thought of serving a man. However, your ambition was driving you to see past the title of your position, reminding you that you were working deep in the roots of the White House. Only a few people will ever see this kind of power first hand, and you were one of them. You had the rare opportunity to make contacts and connections along the way; connections that will surely help your own political career one day. 

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Sound the Alarms: 08

Sound the Alarms: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08
Ship: Jungkook | Reader ~ Jungkook | Seulgi
Description: You were in love with Jeon Jungkook since you were 14, but made the mistake of introducing him to your best friend at 16. Now you’ve slept with him at 19, and it appears that fate isn’t done screwing you over when it comes to your two best friends.
Warning: Angst, Self-Harm, Mentions fo Suicide, Oral, Intercourse, Slight Dirty Talk, Cumplay, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation
Word Count: 6,494

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Tonight in inadvisable late-night confessions:

The biggest reason I get so goddamn annoyed at fan theories (or at least at people getting too invested in same) is the lack of understanding that most of them display about how the creative process actually works. Not everything is fraught with significance; not everything is part of a grand and glorious plan. It’s definitely not always some sort of conspiracy where everything is invested with endless meaning that can be decoded if someone smart enough connects all the dots – and even if it is, a lot of the dots are not in the reader’s view unless the author fucking well decides to expand the scope. At the micro level, sometimes the curtains are blue just because blue is pretty. Characters can get particular names not because they’re Deeply Meaningful, but because names are fucking hard and that one may have been the first vaguely interesting one the author found when looking at the liner notes of the nearest CD that happened to be at hand. Meanwhile, sometimes, there is a grand plan, but executing it isn’t quite working, everything’s annoying, and now and then you just kinda gotta throw a curveball in there to keep yourself entertained or divert from a problem that you don’t know how to solve, in the hope that it’ll help you wander to a different solution later. And sometimes you throw random shit in just because it’s funny. That thing that’s sending the fandom into a full-scale tizzy just might have happened on an odd day in a fit of pique. Shit happens.

Basically, nothing’s perfect. Everything’s a process. Stories can grow and change and do unexpected swerves, and sometimes there are little detours that don’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things but were just satisfying to write, and other times there is deep significance to a choice that’s part of something the author very much wants to convey, and that can make off-base theorizing about it kind of maddening. It actually is possible to push a theory or an interpretation so far past having any perspective on the matter that you’re just plain wrong, and the occasional note to self that screaming DEATH OF THE AUTHOR!! at any suggestion you’re off the rails might also mean you’re missing out on something that really would be valuable to understand.

Either way, whether it’s a little bit of creative chaos at play or something that deserves a deep dive sans navel-gazing, perspective helps, as does the willingness to adjust course now and then and the regular application of a few grains of salt.

(that applies to this post, too, because I’m tired, irritated, and possibly not saying this as clearly as I wish I were. That said: I will probably put blue curtains into everything I write out of pure goddamn spite at this point. At least now you actually do know why.)

its-animalcrazy-love  asked:

For the fanfic trope. A Hogwarts au please and thank you

Ok so before we start the fic, I gotta tell you guys a story. So hogwarts aus are always A PAIN because you usually have to sort the characters into houses, and people get really opinionated about it haha. Like most people will be chill, but then there will be that one guy who’s like “yeah so hunk is such a slytherin”, to which I’ll be like “meet me in the pit you limp dick!”
So anyway, I asked my boyfriend how he would sort the Voltron kids as I was pretty stumped. And he just goes: “Shiro, Lance and hunk are in gryffindor. Pidge is ravenclaw.”
“Hunk is gryffindor?”
“Yeah! I’d say hunk is pretty heroic.”
“And what about Keith?”
“…. I totally forgot he was a character.”
*cue me howling with laughter*
“Alright Keith is hufflepuff because I forgot about him and no one cares about hufflepuff”

So in honour of my dumbass boyfriend, have some gryffindor shiro, hunk and lance, with ravenclaw pidge and Allura, and hufflepuff keith.

Lance, hunk and Keith are fifth year’s at hogwarts and have settled well into their lives at hogwarts. Hunk and Lance became fast friends when they were assigned as roommates in their first year. Their relationship… well specifically lance’s relationship, with Keith had been much rockier. Lance had tried out for the quidditch team and failed, he had been pretty bereft until hunk had explained that first years never made the team. But Keith became the youngest seeker in hufflepuff history. From then on lance decided that Keith needed to be DESTROYED.

But their relationship has since mellowed. Lance became a chaser in his second year under Shiro’s recommendation, and has proved himself to be a valuable member of the team, scoring goals from impossible distances. Hunk is the worlds most savage beater. It’s not unusual to find him at the hospital wing with some fresh brownies for another poor quidditch player that has broken an arm to his hits.

Keith and lance’s rivalry becomes much more joking and teasing, with both of them always volunteering to duel against each other in defence against the dark arts. Professor Alfor has stopped pairing them together. Which is good cuz Keith usually wins. But it’s ok, because Lance is Coran’s favourite student, and he may have sicked a hippogriff on Keith in one of the care of magical creatures classes.

Keith starts sneaking into the gryffindor dorm at night, and Shiro turns a blind eye when he sees him sneaking out in the morning. Keith, hunk and lance stay up late, eating sweets, telling ghost stories, and since Keith is muggle born, he tells them all about their technology and traditions. Keith gets an iPod for Xmas and it BLOWS LANCES MIND. Keith let’s Lance listen to it when they share a bed. Hunk has hit puberty pretty well already, and is too broad now to share with either of them. There’s still the usual “augh! Get your cold feet off of me!”, “did you take a nap in the lake? You real of rotten seaweed”, “better than smelling like sweat and hair grease!” before they pop in the iPod earbuds and drift off to sleep. If hunk catches them frequently spooning he doesn’t say anything.

They have potions with haggar, and both Keith and lance groan. Lance is…. ok at potions, but haggar is such a bitter old crone. He’d much prefer to have someone like Thane as his teacher. Keith is fucking atrocious. He lacks the patience and finesse. Both of them owe all their passing grades to hunk. Hunk is a natural. He’s able to look at potion recipes and mutter “that’s awful advice” under his breath as he goes off book and makes something that impresses even haggar.

They’re making love potions this day. Specifically amortentia, which they’re told will smell like smell like something amazing when it’s finished, but it’s specific to each potion. Hunk finishes his first and reports it smells like fresh baked bread, hot sugar, and nutmeg. Lance is frowning at his cauldron.

“What’s up?” Hunk asks.
“I think I fucked it up. Mine swells like musk and sweat.” He wrinkles his nose. Hunk laughs and goes through all the steps with him, and Lance confirms that he’s done everything. Hunk shrugs.
“Maybe that’s what you’re into? Sweat and musk” he laughs.
“Sweat, musk and soap. Like that real basic kind Kei…” Lance face scrunches like he’s eaten a lemon. He no longer talks about what his potion smells like.

Keith has been perfectly silent on the other side of the table, as his cauldron wafts out the smell of salt, crashing waves, and green tea facial masks.

The Adventures of Todd and Granny

(Alternatively: “I Saw Granny Ethel with the Devil”)

Part I | Part II


Grocery Store



Todd the demon is a he, now, if only because Granny Ethel insists upon using copious ‘Dear boy, keep trying and ‘Atta boy!’ critiques to varying degrees depending on how well his needlework, crochet, and knitting attempts progress.

Gender isn’t a concept the demon concerned himself with before. If Todd had been, say, a girl named Tonya, he supposes he’d be a she instead. If Todd had been gender-neutral and properly communicated with his grandmother, he supposes she would call him they or child, appropriately. Granny Ethel isn’t one to discriminate. Even when she properly wears her glasses and sees his obviously un-Todd-like appearance, only shaking her head and smiling with a good-natured “kids these days” on her lips. But he wouldn’t mind if Granny Ethel called him boy, girl, thing, or abomination, so long as she stayed happy.

Granny Ethel is a patient woman. Todd simply can’t understand why or how she’d become the black sheep of her family, especially after a full week of living with her hospitality. Through the constant baked goods and the modest but satisfying three-meals-a-day; the careful (oh-so-careful) dusting of trinkets and bookshelves with tiny cloths and feather dusters not fit for large claws, which he insists upon doing while she looks on in worry before brewing more coffee; the midday television re-run breaks spent sealing cash donations into envelopes and discussing human rights issues instead of watching old shows, he simply can’t think of her as anything but a paragon of her kind.

It’s a problem with them, he concludes. Not her.

It isn’t a decision he makes lightly.

Spending such a brief time with her, he’s already learned so much more about humans than he ever would have cared to know, beyond perceiving them as vessels or a means to an end. There is much suffering in the world—sometimes even more than that in Hell—but there is also kindness.

He’s known that, but he witnesses it first hand during their first trip outside of Granny Ethel’s home.

“Come, now, Todd, we have much shopping to do. I’m afraid my pantry isn’t stocked appropriately for the upcoming food donation drive and I can’t just skip it this month.”

Todd remembers addressing an envelope to the local food bank—most people would stop there, figuring their good deed was done.

“I also have to stock up on this week’s groceries. Feel free to buy whatever you want, dear. I can cook anything, you know! At least, I try. I suppose you’d like some snacks, too. But I am so glad you’re here; think of all the bags we can carry between the two of us!”

There is no car in Granny Ethel’s driveway, or a garage to store it. He wonders how they’re going to make it to the grocery store as he waits for her to lock the door behind them, as she hobbles down the two small concrete steps with her cane in hand.

It isn’t until she’s halfway down the sidewalk that he realizes they’re walking. In public.

An old crone in black and a demon at her side, wearing a handmade shawl so lovingly stitched with various, terrifying occult symbols.

He isn’t the only one who sees a problem with this—the neighbor’s dog, a small, bug-eyed thing, yaps indignantly at them from the front lawn as it bounces around the dewy grass at its owner’s feet, soon erupting in warning yowls and howls, before falling silent mid-yip when Todd locks eyes with it. The neighbor—Maurice, if he remembers Granny Ethel’s gossip correctly—stands frozen, watering can dangling limp from his hand as he overwaters the begonias at his feet, mouth hanging open in undignified disbelief.

“Good morning, Maurice!” Granny Ethel calls with unmitigated cheer, and a hint of pride. “Nice morning, isn’t it? Oh! Have you met my wonderful grandson Todd? He finally came to visit! We’re going shopping now. Will you watch my house?”

Maurice simply stares, dumb with shock.

Halfway down the block, another neighbor’s car brakes with a squeal before they make it out of the driveway and they stick their head out of the window to gape.

Shutters crack open. Curtains are shoved aside.

Before Todd knows it, they are the cul-de-sac’s center of attention.

Granny Ethel doesn’t pay it any mind and continues obliviously on, waving to each face in turn as those faces pale, yet hers remains rosy.

“My, such a busy day today. I haven’t seen everyone out like this since the Fourth of July block party. Oh, if you’re still here during summer, Todd, we should definitely take part. Maybe we should start knitting an American flag for the occasion. What do you think?”

He can only nod.




They make it to the grocery store without incident—aside from the broken fire hydrant caused by a distracted driver and the one, single person who ran away screaming, and the handful that crossed themselves, and the one person bold enough to snap a picture with their phone before Todd grabbed it from their hands and threw it while Granny Ethel wasn’t looking, too distracted with how well the city’s roadside flowers were blooming—and Todd, ever the gentledemon, takes a small shopping cart from its line and trails behind Granny Ethel as she consults the list taken from her purse.

As expected, those within the store stop and stare. Even the calming elevator music jolts to a pause.

A young man in an employee vest, who looks high, shoots Todd the demon-horn hand sign and smiles before swaggering away to the frozen food aisle, and the manager meekly approaches them, skirting around a fresh fruit display.

“Ma’am, is there—is there something I can—do you need help?” he asks, sweating from his receding hairline to his neck as he tugs at his collar and straightens his frumpy tie.

“Oh! I’m so glad you asked. I didn’t see any sales circulars by the door—what kind of specials are on right now? Particularly on things like pizzas and cereals and whatever else young men like to eat.” Granny Ethel leans in close to the man, close enough to loudly whisper, “See, my grandson here is a quiet, shy boy despite his appearance, and I don’t think he’d ask me himself, but I bet he’d love to get some junk food to snack on between meals.”

The manager’s eyes widen, blood-shot, as he looks to Todd, who only smiles—which comes off as terrifying, he’s certain, with all the sharp teeth and red eyes involved.

“S-SURE! Junk food. Right. Um—uh, w-well, I think there’s a BOGO—buy one get one free—deal on the frozen pizzas. Uh…most cereals are marked down right now…th-there’s a sale on potato chips…hot dogs…” His voice trails off, too burdened with trembles and fear as he continues to hold Todd’s gaze. “And—you know, I’m sure some other employee can help you, ma’am. I’m not one anymore as of this moment. I QUIT.” That said, he yanks the flimsy plastic nametag from his shirt and runs for the door, followed by half of the shoppers who abandon their carts and drop their baskets, scattering groceries everywhere.

Granny Ethel watches him go, then sighs. “He must have been overworked and stressed. I almost walked out on a job a long time ago for the same reasons, but I needed it. You be careful of corporate America, Todd.”

He takes her words to heart, and he fully agrees.

Shoppers that remain in the grocery mart avoid them at all costs as they meander through the frozen food section, the bread aisle, the junk food corner—and Granny Ethel pays them no mind, filling the cart to the brim with refills of groceries she needs back at home and treats she thinks Todd needs more of in his life. He supposes he does, if she says he does. Far be it from him to contradict her adolescent-savvy wisdom.

Even so, the single shopping cart is far too small for all of the spoils—halfway through the shopping list, he finds them in need of another. It isn’t an issue. Many are left scattered, abandoned, around almost every corner. By the end of the list, both carts are full to the brim, and Granny Ethel is simply beaming.

The checkout lines are deserted—they have their pick. Although only one station is manned by a clerk, and it greatly narrows their choice.

As Todd wheels the two shopping carts to the register, he recognizes the young employee from before, who once again shoots him the demon-horn hand symbol.

“Love your poncho, dude,” Sam (as his nametag reads) comments with a bit of a tired drawl, and there are dark shadows under his eyes as expected from an overworked youth on minimum wage, but he is otherwise energetic, quickly scanning each of the items set on the conveyor belt, and smiling at demon and old woman in turn. “Did the little lady here knit that for you?”

“Crocheted!” Granny Ethel corrects with a grin, preening like a proud parakeet. “It does suit him, doesn’t it? Of course, I would never make something that didn’t suit my dear grandson. He must always be well-dressed.”

“You seem like a really supportive gramma. That’s cool. When I was in my super hardcore death metal phase, mine just dragged me to church every Sunday.” A digital beep accompanies nearly every word as he skillfully rings up each grocery down the line.

“Oh, I would never do that. Mainly because I no longer belong to a church. And also because Todd seems so averse to discussing Bible passages, so I never force him.”

At this, Todd gives a wry smile. He places the final handful of groceries onto the conveyor belt and sidles around Granny to the other side of the checkout, bagging the groceries that have already been scanned. It seems the official bag boy has fled in fright.

“I can imagine. Never one for religion, myself. Oh, and you’re eligible for the senior citizen’s discount, so let me just…” Sam pauses a moment to key in a code on the register and it dings. “Aaand, there. Your total comes out to $204.56. Stocking up for the winter already? It’s only March.”

“Oh, dear, no. Half of this is for the food drive!” Granny Ethel chuckles good-naturedly as she leans her cane against the counter and digs through her small pocketbook and produces a checkbook, then dives back in to search for her favorite pen.

Sam turns to Todd while awaiting payment. “By the way, dude, that costume is killer. I’ve never seen anything so realistic, with the added bonus that you scared the boss away! Totally made my day. My week, even.”

Todd gives a nod, happy to be of service, even if it isn’t a costume. He can’t exactly say it aloud. Perhaps one day he’ll learn how to speak English coherently, but for now nonverbal cues work just fine.

Finally, Granny Ethel finds her pink, plastic jewel-encrusted ballpoint pen and makes out a check to DeVille-Mart, even going so far as to take one of the heavier paper bags for herself, never one to make Todd carry all of the groceries himself. “You have a wonderful day, young man. Thank you.”

“Y’all have a great day, too, Ma’am.” Sam offers a toothy smile, and it seems sincere enough as he sees them off with a lazy wave “Hope to be seeing you shop here again.”

Todd isn’t so sure they’ll ever return once upper management hears about this visit, but it’s nice to know they are accepted by at least one individual.

“Now, Todd, let’s get to the food bank. We have such a long day ahead of us. But there’s a reward at the end of it—I bought ingredients specifically for chocolate turtle brownies!”

If the visit to the food bank is in any way similar to this excursion—and it will be, he decides, as yet another gawking driver’s car slow-collides with the corner vending machine when they pass through the automatic doors—they have a long day ahead of them, indeed.

Talking to Old Russian Ladies Leads to Suicide?

A good female servant should heed her mistress and obey her in everything. She should not listen to old women, who tempt young women into evil – that is, they introduce them to young men who are strangers to the area and who teach the young women to steal, to drink, and to indulge themselves in evil. Many women and girls keep company with these young men, listen to old crones, steal property from their master and mistress, and run away. Then they take the property from your woman and kill her, or she commits suicide by drowning herself; either way, your property is lost.

Quoted from the Domostroi, a household manual for nobles written around Moscow during the reign of Ivan the Terrible, circa 1550.

2

Mysterious “Ugly” Woman Painting

Keith Webb of Winchester, Hampshire received an unmarked parcel. Upon opening the package, he found this strange painting of an “ugly” old woman in a white head-scarf. There was no explanation or note that came with the painting. 

“It’s a painting of such a horrid old crone - my wife won’t have it in the house.”

The couple have no idea who could have sent it to them, or even why. Upon taking it to local auctioneers, he found out that the painting was around 200-300 years old.

It’s not everyday someone sends you a painting of an ugly old lady without any information. Truly unexplained

BBC

anonymous asked:

Who are your favorite minor characters from all the four nations?

Good question!

Water

Hama. What a powerful character this was for someone we only got to see in one episode! We get to see her rise and fall, from a powerful and dignified waterbending master, to a corrupted and hateful old crone who tortures her own tribeswoman in order to “teach” her. She invented her own technique and is a deadly force to be reckoned with. Hama also gave more depth to the Southern Water Tribe, presenting a dark side to waterbending that had been hitherto unknown, as well as harkening back to a time when the tribe was strong and waterbenders were numerous. Both her strength and her hatred left a permanent mark on Katara—and a reminder for us that water is everywhere.

Earth

Avatar Kyoshi. This Avatar literally left some big shoes to fill, as she is the longest-lived of any known Avatar and cemented a legacy that is still carried on in her island and her warriors. She saved her people by breaking off a piece of the mainland Earth Kingdom, a tectonic (and titanic) feat that was as awe-inspiring as it was deadly.

One of the things that I like about how she is remembered and presented is that she is a tough lady who does not deride femininity. Her technique, for example, is about using an opponent’s force against them, a skill tailored for female use. Toph, while a tremendous earthbender, prefers her part being played by a big, strong man, teases Aang about his delicate footsteps and “feminine side”, and takes a long time to appreciate the value of doing chores and being a team mom. Kyoshi has big feet AND wears makeup, fights in a dress with fans AND stops tyranny in its tracks, and doesn’t disparage traditionally female attributes while showing off her strength.

Like most earthbenders, Kyoshi doesn’t beat around the bush with regards to her business; when Aang tries to tell her that she didn’t really kill Chin the Conqueror, Kyoshi replies:

Personally, I don’t really see the difference. But I assure you, I would have done whatever it took to stop Chin.

I would have taken that advice to heart, Aang. Just sayin’.

Fire

Piandao. Just because you’re a nonbender doesn’t mean you are any less a member of your nation, and Master Piandao exemplifies this at a time when firebending is the most prized ability in the Fire Nation. Piandao is coveted as a teacher and easily could have gotten filthy rich on war profits, considering how highly militarized the Fire Nation becomes during the war. Instead, he will only accept students that can be taught, not only how to fight, but how to achieve their potential as human beings. He prizes humility in an era of arrogance and combines the artistry of the sword with the strokes of calligraphy. He encourages creativity and bravery, as we can see in Sokka’s training. As a White Lotus member, he is instrumental in freeing Ba Sing Se from the Fire Nation’s yoke, and is a role model for personal as well as professional achievement.

Air

Guru Pathik. Yes, technically he is not an airbender, but this guru embodies all of the best qualities of the Air Nomads: friendliness toward living things, a carefree nature, sense of humor, and a high level of spirituality. Monk Gyatso would have been a more conventional choice, but I’m putting Guru Pathik first, not only because we see more of him, but because through him we learn about the tenets of interconnectedness and enlightenment that underpin the Avatar world. He teaches Aang, but doesn’t coddle him, and lets him know in no uncertain terms what will happen if Aang interrupts his training. Aang has had masters of air, water, earth, and fire, but Guru Pathik is the only one who helps Aang master the Avatar State—the most powerful technique he has apart from energybending.

An analysis on Prince Adam

The marriage between Adam’s parents has never been a particularly happy one. His father is greedy and selfish and payed little to no attention to his wife and child. The marriage is an arranged one, not made for happiness. Adam’s mother is fierce and loves her son into oblivion. Whenever The Prince gets angry (he has a horrible temper) she nurtures her son who always gets scared when his father yells at him. To make him feel better she holds lavish dinners and balls to distract him from his father’s anger. Adam, of course, also has the servants who help The Princess in raising the boy as his friends. He considers them family. But when his mother dies from a long sickness he loses his whole life. His father, now having more control of his heir, keeps him at his side at all times, trying to make him into the son he wants. God forbid he disappoints him. When he returns from lessons or simply spending time with his father with a new bruise forming his friends bow their heads in shame and say nothing. The Prince feels betrayed by the ones who were supposed to be his protectors, his family, his only friends. His father’s words start to get to him. He’s useless, too soft to rule, too forgiving. He’ll never be enough. From this stems his distaste for other people than himself. He’s learnt the lesson the hard way. No one will ever love you but yourself. For years no one touches him but his father, and those moments are when he is terrified. Simply a brush or look makes him crawl inside his walls and hide in fear.

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Sins of the Father: What the Spirit Says

Pairing: Finn Bálor x Reader

Warnings (some potential triggers): Incredibly sacrilegious/blasphemous smut, anal sex (female receiving), graphic death (minor character), hints of dub-con, detachment, bondage, knife play, blood play.

Word Count: 1141

A/N: Hello hello! So we’re coming to the point in the story where things get disturbing as hell. This is the beginning of the end.

Anywho, I hope you enjoy it. :)

My Bálor Babes: @yourr-anger-your-anchor@motleymoose@georgiadean37@wweximaginesxd@racheo91 @daddy-slug@blondekel77@ambrosegirlforever @liam-is-sexy10 @fucking-bandsx@boundtomyfate@hotspurmadridista@florenceivy@geekoftv@behindthesesilvereyes@vsturgeon5489@thegoddessqueenrileycarter@justhavingfun123469@wwesmutandstuff @devitt-club @anerdysouthernbelle @thebadchic   

Originally posted by letstalkwrestling

Because context - even of the sacrilegious kind - is everything, catch up on the Masterlist before you proceed.

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House of Cards: Chapter 3 (M)

Taehyung x Reader, with Jungkook

Genre: Smut, a little angst, slightly fluffy

Warning: Infidelity. Please avoid if this is not for you.

Word count: 5,020 words

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4


The neighbours were definitely wondering why you were doing a spring cleaning in the middle of November, the sounds of you vacuuming the entire house breaking the silence of the normally quiet Friday afternoons. You had left work a little early to clean your apartment, even though there was not much to be done since you always kept the place spick and span. First impressions are important and from the short conversation you’ve had with Jungkook earlier, you’d deducted that he seemed like a nice guy, so you were eager to have him move in. Especially since no one else had answered to your ad.

The house was perfectly tidy, nothing out of place and not a speck of dust to be found anywhere. Brushing your hands happily, you took the small bag of trash and opened the front door to get rid of it. You were greeted by the back of a young man leaning against the railing in front of your house. The rattle of the door opening caused him to turn around in surprise to face you. You were not sure if your gaping mouth was due to the astonishment at finding someone outside your house, or if it was amazement at facing someone so good-looking.

A moment of silence passed as the two of you stared at each other, then the man said, “Are you y/n?”

“Yes,” you confirmed. “And you are…”

“Jungkook,” he finished your sentence for you. “I was the one who called you earlier.” He started to offer his hand for a handshake but you shook your head and held up the bag of trash to show him the reason you had to decline the offer. “Oh, let me take care of that for you.”

Eyes wide open at his words, you shook your head and jerked the bag away. “No, I can’t let you do that!” Without thinking, you had engaged this handsome man in a bizarre contest of getting the trash. He reached for the plastic bag, his hand following it as you twisted and moved to get it away from him. His reflexes were a lot better than yours, and in no time the trash was in his hand and his body had trapped yours against the wall beside your door.

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Creepypasta #1136: A Warning For Backpackers Coming To Thailand

Length: Medium

I live in Thailand. But not as an English teacher, NGO worker, or professional expat of any kind. I’m a local Thai. So if you’re expecting some ladyboy joke from the title, I’m sorry to disappoint you. But I feel like I should let you foreigners know about what I’ve encountered last weekend. So please listen to my story. This knowledge might save your life when you visit Thailand.

I’m just an office worker living in the capital city of Bangkok. I wear a tie, work on excel, and is always being scolded by my American boss. My home is in the rural countryside, with lots of green paddy fields and sugar palms in the distance with the backdrop of grey hills. It is the soothing sight of my childhood. I was raised there by my parents who are rice farmers. I used to bring their buffaloes to graze in the fields. It is a place of my nostalgia.

As an office worker, I try to visit my parents as often as I can because they’re old now and are much too old for farm work. I visit just so I can bring some joy to their hearts and hand them a little souvenir from the city. Usually it’s a little bit of money I can spare after paying for my rent. But when I’m running short, I would buy them some American sweets or cookies that I’m sure they’ve never tasted before.

Sorry for the diversion, back on topic. So it is the past weekend that things had become strange. I would barely believe it if it hadn’t happened to myself. If my uncle or auntie from the village had told me that they’d seen what I’d seen, I would nod politely and secretly deride them for their superstition.

Last Saturday, I planned to visit my parents early in the morning, but my boss told me that he needed to have his Powerpoint done by 3PM. Just perfect. It would take me 5 hours to travel from Bangkok to my hometown by train, and the last one leaves at 2PM. So I went into the office and worked like I never did before. I skipped lunch and churned out the Powerpoint and immediately rushed to the train station. I barely made it in time to board the train. However, that means that I will have to walk to my parents’ home when it is dark. And that makes me nervous. It is known that no one should walk around after dark in my village.

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anonymous asked:

your story was so funny omg. do you have any more?

  • So i lived the town over from my high school, and had to catch the bus like an hour and a half every day to and from
  • (a movie. thats a fucking movie, every day, twice a day)
  • (I WAS TWELVE)
  • (commuter tragedy)
  • and because we were all stuck together for so long for like six years, we followed the natural inclination of teenagers to be fucking idiots at every chance
  • and we formed this group of bus kids
  • forged by ridiculous travel times
  • bonded in suffering the ridiculous rule of
  • our bus driver.
  • our bus driver was an old, old lady called jeannine
  • (nickname: the grinch, due to the time we were singing christmas carols and she got annoyed and declared that christmas was canceled.)
  • (CANCELED.)
  • (we put up a sign written in texta that said ‘NO CHRISTMAS - SIGNED, THE GRINCH’)
  • (she did not find it funny)
  • jeannine had been driving the bus since time immemorial
  • (and may have of, in fact, been one of the Old Ones)
  • (never confirmed)
  • (but i have my suspicions)
  • Jeannie ran a tight ship.
  • the tightest ship
  • jeannine was the generalissimo of bus drivers
  • she played this talkback radio station over the speaker system
  • and when we were being too loud or she was jut annoyed with us she would turn it up to deafening levels
  • and we would all block our ears, and then having gotten our attention she would turn it down and shout at us
  • when we were REALLY TERRIBLE
  • (like those two weeks after high school musical premiered and we used to have breaking free singalongs)
  • (yeah)
  • (I would have turned the radio up on our asses too)
  • she would park next to the city graveyard
  • (always the graveyard?)
  • (i dont know why)
  • (mental conditioning?)
  • (subliminal messgakng?)
  • and walk/hobble
  • (she was pretty stooped over)
  • (basically she was your standard old crone)
  • (potentially witch)
  • up and down the aisle tellin us how terrible we were
  • so anyway, one year jeannine goes on a two week break for surgery
  • (what surgery? We never found out. Various sources claim knee, hip or shoulder replacement)
  • (could have been a stay at a lazarus pit)
  • (stay woke)
  • and we get a replacement driver.
  • we called him nickelback because he played a nickelback cd over the speaker,
  • on repeat
  • every bus trip
  • EVERY.
  • TRIP.
  • how the hell’d we wind up like this?
  • so free from the reign of terror that was jeannine, we get a bit wild.
  • and by ‘wild’ i mean we:
  • talk above speaking level,
  • eat our food in the ooen,
  • someone busts out a guitar anyway here’s wonderwall
  • its one of these days,
  • that the Great Apple Fiasco happens.

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2

The Crone Necklace

The Crone - a wise old woman, witch, the mistress of the forest and the keeper of the underworld gates. Beside the main meaning there is a wordplay: the crone, the crown (of a tree). And here it is: a lustring stone, like the moon or other celestial body, breaks through dark branches and is placed in an antique silver crown. The other element of the necklace is the claw. In many ancient beliefs birds have symbolized a guide into underworld, they carried souls from our world to another. That is the reason why the habitation of “the crone” in slavic folklore (yes, it is Baba Yaga) stands on “chicken legs” in the place were the forest ends and the realm of the dead begins.