star wars fans:
star trek destroyed my crops, murdered my family, brought the plague to my village, released a swarm of locusts upon my home, and forced me to seek asylum underneath the earth’s crust for the rest of eternity
me: i don’t like deh, but it’s an important show to a lot of people and it will probably win best musical, so i’ll try to be nice about it
also me: dear evan hansen himself came into my home, killed my crops, plagued my village, and murdered my family on the fateful night of june 11, 2017, when it beat the masterpiece natasha, pierre, and the great comet of 1812 for best musical in the 71st antoinette perry award for excellence in broadway theatre
AN: My contribution for Sakura’s birthday. Quickly jotted down on my extra long lunch break ^_^ Enjoy!
“This,” Sakura Uchiha grumbles as she drives her fist into the face of a particularly grimy bandit, “is not how I expected to spend my birthday.”
Sasuke makes a vaguely inquiring noise as he carries out a variation of his Shishi Rendan, sending his opponent flying through the air with several cracked bones.
“Never mind,” she mutters, ducking a clumsy kunai strike and using her attacker’s momentum to throw him over her shoulder.
The large band she and Sasuke have stumbled upon have been plaguing the nearby village for months, according to the inhabitants. They’ve take up residence on the only bridge in the area and have been charging travellers a toll to get by. Those who refuse have been violently robbed and left for dead, according to the warnings of several survivors.
It should have been the work of ten minutes to neutralise them and tie them up, but neither she nor Sasuke expected the majority of them to be former Kusa-nin. Even in this time of peace, missing-nin present a constant problem – especially those who made their livelihood pursuing war.
At least the Akatsuki had an actual purpose – these creeps just want to bleed people dry for their own benefit!
In the end, in the name of expedience rather than anything else, Sasuke traps them all in a genjutsu and Sakura rounds them all up. She’s kept the use of her strength to a minimum, not wanting to accidentally destroy the bridge they are trying to liberate.
In 1892, Rhode Island farmer George Brown tragically lost his wife and two daughters to a mystery illness. Mary Senior, Mary Jr. and finally 19-year-old Mercy Brown had all died within years of each other, leaving poor George alone with his son, Edwin. When Edwin became ill with the same illness, (which we now know to be Tuberculosis), George became angry and thought that the only rational explanation was that of Vampirism. He, along with several other villagers, believed that his dead family were members of the undead and were maliciously plaguing the village with disease.
Armed with shovels and chisels, a gang of villagers led by Mr. Brown proceeded to dig up the graves. Nothing was left of the two Marys but dust and bones, so they turned to Mercy’s grave. Her body was remarkably well-preserved due to the cold weather, though the rabble of angry residents put this down to her being a vampire.
In order to cure Edwin from this dreadful disease, the peasants-turned-witch doctors hatched a foolproof plan; They cut out Mercy’s heart, burned it in a blessed fire, and then had Edwin drink the ashes. After all this, he still died two months later, and as superstition subsided Mercy’s remains were buried at the local Baptist Church in Exeter. Her gravestone is a popular tourist attraction, with many people paying their respects to the innocent girl every year.
In which Klaus is besotted with the new girl and
Caroline wants to know how the hell she ended up in Viking times.
Okay, so this is my
obligatory time travel drabble and I don’t really think there’s anything
special to say about this one that would constitute an author’s note, but it’s
definitely one of the fluffier things I’ve written, and kind of short too (at
least, for me). Be warned, there is smut here and some Viking-esque misogyny as
well but not so much, but if any of this offends you, I suggest you scroll
past. Oh, and by the way, my Viking name for Mystic Falls was a result of
searching through Old Norse dictionaries for the translation of ‘Mystic Falls’;
from what I could tell, they didn’t have a word for ‘mystic’, so I just went
with ‘mysterious’ as a close synonym. One last note, when I say ‘Klaus’, I’m
mostly referring to our friendly neighbourhood Original Hybrid, and when I say
‘Niklaus’, I’m mostly referring to human Klaus. In circumstances where this is
not true, it should be obvious which Klaus I’m referring to. Hopefully.
Caroline’s eyes finally fluttered open, she almost wished that she was still
knocked out, considering the anvil that was currently being dropped on her
skull, again and again and again. A hand (female, by the feel of it) spanned
her forehead and brushed her hair back against whatever her head was lying on. It
was the touch that prompted her to pluck up the courage, push past the
splitting headache and open her eyes. Only to scramble upwards and hurtle
She breathed, because Esther Mikaelson (dead Esther Mikaelson) was
leaning over her.
Makarov loved a good party; there was usually lots of merriment, singing and dancing and good food with the best wine available. He loved watching his Weyr having a good time, despite the hard times they would experience sometimes. Especially now, with the Rogue riders plaguing the villages and haunting those whom escaped them. He could see it in his own people, the quick looks of pity to the survivors and flashes of fear that the rumors brought. He desperately wanted to wipe that fear away, and see them smile in peace. But to say that it was a problem he could solve easily was foolish, almost imbecilic.
After I became obsessed with the Always Human Webcomic, I began imagining what the characters would look like if they lived in Ancient Times, of course they probably would look nicer, but I always imagine Rhea (Rhae? I can never spell her name) as Venus, the goddess of love because she maybe asexual and she may never get herself someone she loves, but she will always protect what love is supposed to mean. I believe Sunati would be an Egyptian queen, much like Cleopatra, and would grow bored with her lifestyle. She would often visit the ocean just to stare at the stars in wonder and this is how she meets Rhea (Rhae?) She would later meet Austen the same way. Austen would be a druid priestess who wants to find a cure for her village that’s plagued with a “disease” that makes it hard for them to walk and even though Austen has the disease, she has found a way to hide it and trains every day as well as works on creating a druid that cures the disease. She’s very insecure of herself, but when she meets Sunati one night during her visit to Egypt, Austen starts becoming less insecure the more she remains by her girlfriend’s side. It is then they all make a promise to meet each other in the future. @alwayshumancomic
In 1665 England, a plague forced this village into quarantine. Eventually all of its inhabitants were wiped out, and the bodies were buried in the gardens and yards of their former homes, where they likely remain today.
The story goes like this: there’s a beautiful girl locked away in a tower, asleep, seeming dead but not, cursed, waiting for someone to wake her. Knights and princes and kings have tried, but the journey is long and the way is barred by brambles and thorns and dragons, and so far no one’s ever come back. So knights and princes and kings keep going, because the beautiful girl is still out there, waiting for someone to bring her home like a prize.
When I heard the story as a child I asked, “Where’s everyone else? Why is she alone?”
“Because she was cursed hundreds of years ago. Some left, but the one who loved her stayed with her until they all died.”
When I was a little older, when the plague swept our village and my mother and father died, I thought about the beautiful girl, and how we both knew what it was to be cursed and alone.
They said I would be sleeping, dreaming, and I don’t know where I am but I’m not at rest.
I feel my body and I leave my body and I am everywhere.
I am through the brambles and thorns Atop the tower But all I could do was watch them go.
It was to keep me safe the brambles and thorns and monsters I heard them tell me at my bedside
I watched them weep watched them grow old watched them grow still.
They cannot keep me safe anymore.
When people ask where I’m going, I tell them I’m going to look for work, to search for family, to find a husband.
I don’t mention the girl asleep in the tower.
I pack what little things I have, including my father’s armor. “You can’t be too careful on the road,” someone tells me when they see me wearing it. I sleep with a knife in my hand and a sword at my hip.
I need them.
On the road, I fight boys who think I’m an easy target. Men who think a girl on the road needs someone to protect her. Knights and princes and kings who think they have the right to anyone they come across. I warn them that I have a sword and it’s not the first time I’ve used it, but they never listen.
I used to dream about someone who could find me someone I’d want to find
Knights and princes and kings ride in on white horses swords drawn
My body is asleep and hidden but I fly at them, all teeth and fire and rage
They are delicious and not at all satisfying.
People think I’ve made a mistake. “Turn around,” they say, “this land is cursed. If you survive the woods, there are the brambles and thorns, too thick to even hack your way through. And if you survive the brambles and thorns, you will be swallowed whole by the monsters waiting for you on the other side.”
“I know about being cursed,” I say. “I know about survival.”
I keep walking.
They said it was a witch who did this to me.
They said it was a curse I lived with my whole life
And all they could try to do was protect me.
But maybe I had to learn how to protect myself.
To wait until I didn’t have to.
I survive the woods. I fight through the brambles and thorns.
When I hear leathery wings, I hold my place. It lands in front of me and circles me and when it lands in front of me, all I see are claws and teeth. I tell myself this is not how I die, and I stare the monster in the eye and say, “I need to see she’s all right.”
It circles me again and inhales and I feel the fire in its breath. Then I feel the flap of wings and it rises up and it’s gone.
They told me I’d have to wait until someone could protect me but they didn’t tell me from what.
From woods and witches, from brambles and thorns, from knights and princes and kings.
So I gave myself teeth and wings and dreamed.
I don’t need to dream anymore.
The story goes like this: The story goes like this: there’s a beautiful girl locked away in a tower, asleep, seeming dead but not, cursed, waiting for someone to wake her. Knights and princes and kings have tried, but the journey is long and the way is barred by brambles and thorns and dragons, and so far no one’s ever come back.
But where knights and princes and kings have failed, a peasant girl knows the way because she knows what it means when the journey is long and the way is barred. She knows how to survive and how to protect others.
This is the story I tell myself when I see her, beautiful and asleep and alive.
And waking up.
The stories start with a curse, a witch, a thorn
A beautiful girl locked in a tower.
Not dead but alive. Not asleep but air and fire and teeth.
Not waiting for knights or princes or kings
But for the one who reminds her that she is not dead but alive not asleep but air and fire and teeth.