puca's

Pink Pooka is done for my portfolio. Now to finish Merrilee Boopkins!

The Pink Pooka Prince lives on a small peaceful world filled with teatime and monsters (nice monsters) While the quiet and calm suits their shy nature they also look to the sky and wonder what other worlds and dimensions lie out in the reaches of the cosmos. Good thing they have a good friend who just happens to be able to open portals to all sorts of wondrous and terrifying places.

Pink Pooka Prince ©merrimonster, thefairygodmonster (June VanOtterdyk)
DO NOT REPOST THIS TO OTHER SITES PLEASE. 

The Signs as Types of Fae
  • Aries: Banshees
  • ~A type of faerie whose appearance predicts the death of somebody nearby or a family member.
  • Taurus: Hobs
  • ~ A type of household faerie who aids humans in farming yet brings them misfortune if offended/annoyed. Humans could dispose of a hob by giving them a new set of clothes but some prove difficult to get rid of.
  • Gemini: Nymphs
  • ~ Different types of nature fae who are seen as young and timeless. Very playful, with high energy causing them to be well-liked. A deep love and appreciation for nature. They love to dance and sing and relish in freedom.
  • Cancer: Sirens
  • ~ A type of faerie who generally lived in groups underwater and sang a beautiful melody, luring fishermen to their death.
  • Leo: Imps
  • ~ A mischevious type of faerie who are lonely and use pranks as a plea for human attention.
  • Virgo: Brownies
  • ~ A small faerie that aids in tasks around the house. They dislike being seen and prefer offerings for their work, abandoning the house if these offerings are called payments/they're misused by the homeowner.
  • Libra: Elves
  • ~ A type of faerie who are diplomatic and wise with sharper senses (physically and mentally) than humans. They love art, song and nature.
  • Scorpio: Selkies
  • ~ A type of fae who live as seals underwater, can shed their seal skin and become human, but almost always return to the sea by re-applying their skin. Seen as having great seductive powers over humans.
  • Sagittarius: Púcas
  • ~ A small faerie who leads lone travelers off their path, using faery-light, often to their death.
  • Capricorn: Leprachauns
  • ~ A type of solitary faerie. Generally seen as greedy due to their hidden pot of gold at the end of rainbows. If captured they must grant 3 wishes for their freedom, much to their dismay.
  • Aquarius: Kobold
  • ~ A shape-shifting faerie who generally resides in human homes. They play malicious pranks to test humans. They can shift between being invisible, human, fire or objects.
  • Pisces: Pixies
  • ~ A type of faerie, generally seen as very small and fragile. They punish humans who neglect others and reward considerate humans. They have a tendency to be manipulative.
2

M Y T H O L O G Y :  Irish mythologyPúca

Púca, pooka or phouka are one of the most feared and mischievous of all the faeries in Ireland and considered to be bringers both of good and bad fortune. These creatures were said to be shape changers which could take the appearance of black horses, goats and rabbits. They may also take a human form, which includes various animal features, such as ears or a tail.

oookay I don’t usually draw klance, but then I saw @catnippackets faerie au, and the years of my childhood that I spent with my face glued to Brian Froud’s Faeries book held my hands hostage until I drew this

in faerie lore, pucas are the rightful owner of all blackberries after halloween. I can only imagine that this means Keith really, truly, obsessively loves blackberries

this is like the sixth or seventh time lance has done this and keith does this every time

A Brief History of Elsewhere

The Elsewhere is a deep place. It is beyond the grasp of human cognition, untouched by the cloying grasp of natural law, and indifferent to the rules of physics. Deep in the Elsewhere, the Courts play their games of Summer and Winter. They play their games with humans too. Dancing with those living too close to the soft spots of the world.

 Fae enjoy these games. The logic of pandemonium and disorder of the Elsewhere gets tedious for beings as eternal as the Good Neighbours, and so they surface from the shallows to crawl about the material world.

 They compel their flotsam, volatile particles into more constrained shapes. Taking inspiration from the dreams and nightmares of humans, they become named things, able to gleefully tread through a world bound by rules: kelpies, kitsune, banshees, huldra, púca, and nissies. 

 The Fair Folk emerged in Elsewhere University: a place of study for half-grown human spawn, a place built by a decedent of the old Éire homeland in the late 1800’s, and a place that became a home for the Hill thirty-three years later. The Founder of the University died before the Courts made it into their kingdom, but he gave it a special name. This name was lost, traded, or stolen (no one alive can recall) when the Gentry came calling, and the then Dean made deals that day to ensure a balance at the newly named Elsewhere University. They soon adapted to the sports fields, to hallways, to dorms, adopting the Campus as their home. They kept to themselves mostly, during this time. Almost all the students remaining Unaware.

 In 1953, the tentative tranquility of the University was broken. From their stronghold beneath the Grand English Building, the Fae were ousted by the Wyrm. They learnt fear that year, and fled. Fear of flame and storm and venom drove them from the western corner of Elsewhere University, out of their shadows and into the light.

 Smaller Courts were constructed in the aftermath. Summer and Winter became defined, and the Gentry walked alongside the students of Elsewhere University. Striking deals, taking what they liked, playing their games. The students learnt quickly. Through instinct, through dumb luck, and from the folklore of old Éire, they learnt.

 Although still bound by the Treaty, the Fae still enjoyed dancing with the students of EU. Changelings traded, and students Taken. Friendship and respect was grown, alongside hatred and fear on both sides. The balance of power, once thought by the Fae to be in their favour, was violently shifted in the 1980’s when they went too far and took the wrong professor. With Flaming Iron and Colloidal Silver, the Fae were reminded why the Earth belonged to the humans.

 In the recent years, a guidebook of sorts was created to help students co-exist with the Good Neighbours. Considered the most dangerous form of contraband, it was only distributed online to avoid the attention of the Fae. It was given the title; Coexisting With The Fair Folk Who Have Taken Up Residence In/Around/Beneath Your University: A How-To Guide. While disguised as a comic, an artistic expression that wouldn’t be taken too seriously outside of the Involved, it has been invaluable for those studying at Elsewhere University.

However, the Courts have noticed. They do not appreciate the Artist’s work, and while they are unable to remove the Guide, they can remove the Artist.  


Note: This is a brief history of Elsewhere University, as taken from the numerous posts and stories based around the work of charminglyantiquated. These were the main canon events that I could find and squash together to make a vague timeline of EU, but I’m sure I missed a few, so by all means let me know so I can update. 

Some of the more noticeable aforementioned events were originally prompted by dragon-saint, bookscrazygirl-blog, and of course, charminglyantiquated (sorry for turning the Fair Folk against you).  

joleanart  asked:

please do more jercy headcanons!!

omg?? yes of course!!! anything for you juliana ♥

  • spring and summertime boyfriends tbh. it’s like coming out of hibernating after a long winter, they start jogging every morning, go out for lunch, jason brings home fresh flowers weekly
  • percy owns a puca shell necklace and jason literally despises it
  • every time percy gets sick, jason takes a trip to this bakery that specializes in just strictly cookies, and he gets percy a bunch of sea animal cookies; dolphins, crabs, fish, the works
  • book worm jason staying up until 3am to listen to audio books and percy waking up bc jason’s crying at the end, so he pulls jason real close and whispers a little, “neerrdd” before kissing him on the head
  • imagine this: percy and jason going to new york comic con dressed up as superman and batman in all their heroic physique glory, and then kissing every time someone yells “where’s wonder woman?”
  • the older they get the more powerful they become and it gets to the point that if a storm starts brewing over camp half-blood people just know they’re sparring. it doesn’t even have to be that serious, they just naturally cause a storm
  • every time percy sneaks into the zeus cabin to sleep, lightning will flash but jason just flips off the statue before turning back to fall asleep next to his bf
  • one time early in the morning in their apartment, just as the sun was rising, apollo appeared in front of their bed all “heLLO demigods, i have a TASK” and while jason does have a filter and got up to say hi, percy–still half asleep–mumbled under his breath “die”
  • percy likes to trace the lines of jason’s jaw, and his shoulder, and down his arm, and across his chest, he likes reassuring himself that jason’s there. he’s real and alive and warm and there
  • jason surprises percy with at least one picnic in the strawberry fields per summer. he never tells percy when but it becomes tradition and it’s something percy looks forward to every year
  • one year though, jason had knots in his stomach as they were walking to their picnic spot, because he had a ring hidden in the back pocket of his jeans
  • and last but not least: one morning percy wakes (after a huge night of partying) up to a text from annabeth that reads, “hope your ass doesn’t hurt to much from last night #neveragain”
  • and he turns to jason, who also has no idea what she’s talking about, and so he checks in the mirror to see if there’s anything wrong and there’s a lightning bolt on his ass
  • jason starts laughing basically screaming, and percy, who can’t believe his own two eyes, checks their snap stories to find out they were playing truth or dare. annabeth was right, #neveragain.

wow i haven’t done headcanons in awhile i hope this was okay?? love you!!!

An Other called Buck

“So, wait. It can’t fly?” You ask with a frown.

“Nah. Big bastard probably wishes it could though. We’d be sooo fucked though if it did, could you bloody imagine?” Buck gives you a meaningful look, then smiles.

 You laugh. It all seems so strange; stuff you never thought possible just laid out of for you so clearly. ‘A deal well struck,’ you think.

“There’re a lot of other things people think the old Slug’s kin can do. But they can’t really. That Beast didn’t need none of that fancy Hollywood shit when it fucked the King up good and proper. No sir, just waltzed in and stirred the Elsewhere up like you wouldn’t believe. Weren’t even meant to be here in the first place,” said Buck.

 He looked sad for a second. Staring at the ground, his golden eyes glittering with old memories. You almost feel sorry for him.

‘It’, you correct yourself. Not ‘him’.

‘It’.  

 At first glance, you might’ve described the thing that called itself Buck as a person. But once you had a closer look (if you were an idiot), you would quickly realise that Buck was too perfect. He looked photoshopped; an immaculate black man with flawless features, that smiled and moved just like a person. But Buck was not a person.

“And, yeah, now it’s just sitting around. Under the old English building, doing fuck all. Lazy prick.”

 Buck smiles again and looks at you.

“Anything else you’d like to know, kiddo?” he says.

 You think for a moment.

“Yeah, actually. You mentioned…” You resist the urge to rub the iron nail resting in your back pocket, “…the King. Is that like, um, I mean I’ve heard about the Royalty and the…”

“The Queen?” Buck nods, his eyes flit around for a second, searching the shadows with fierce glowing eyes. To you, it seems like it’s just the two of you, but you can’t be sure.

“Sorry Pumpkin, not really my story to tell. Always a bigger fish, and all that. Bigger teeth. You understand.”

You frown, a little disappointed, but you decide not to push your luck any further. If even half the rumours you’ve heard about the Royalty and the Queen are true, then you suppose that not knowing might be for the best.

“Um, no, in that case that’s all I’ve got, I think,” you say.

 You double check your list:

-Ask about the Good Neighbours (check)

-Where they came from (check)

-What they are (check)

-Why Elsewhere University? (check)

-What else was out there (double check; you just know you’ll be having nightmares for months)

-The Royalty (better luck next time)

 Buck was very thorough with answering all your questions. For hours, the two of you had explored all the angles and details of your queries with a forthrightness that surprised you. The Fair Folk weren’t known for their candour. But then again, that had been part of the bargain you’d made.

“Excellent. Glad I could help you out.”

 Buck’s smile widens, but in a human way. Not the ear-to-ear grin that you’ve seen from some of the other… Others.

“Your turn now,” he says, “I kept my side of the bargain.”

“Oh. Shit, yeah.” You hesitate for a moment.

“Come on, just one kiss.”

 The deal was one kiss for all the answers to any question you could every want an answer to. You’d brought a list to remind you, so you couldn’t leave with anything left out. You’d found Buck, one of the more ‘human’ of the Fair Folk, and broached an exchange with strict guidelines.

“One kiss. And I leave this meeting in the same condition that I arrived, no funny business. That’s what we agreed.” You say, nervous and sweating, your heart pounding now.

 Buck rests his hand on your shoulder, you feel almost at ease by this very human gesture.

“I know, don’t worry. No changes of any kind. You’ll leave this meeting the same way you came. Mind, spirit, and body. I gave my word,” he says, “now pucker up.”

 You close your eyes and he kisses you. Bucks lips are cold and clammy, pressed against yours. He tastes like sour milk and rust, and you try not to gag.

 He pulls away. You realise that you’ve been holding your breath.

“You taste great. Minty. I like it,” you hear Buck say.

 You open your eyes.

 A sharp wetness hits your pupil and the world blurs, stinging, as you blink franticly. It burns. It throbs with an icy burn that blisters the insides of your lids. You rub at the pain furiously and your palms come away wet with tears and fairy spit.

 Then you squint around, searching amongst the unfocused, too bright haze of Elsewhere University, looking for Buck. You keep blinking, the pain recedes and you can finally see with a vague clarity. The focus sharpens suddenly and you can see Elsewhere for what it truly is.

 You babble inanely for a moment as your eyes stream, still tender with a dull ache. Madness tickles at the edge of your mind. Shards of light and torrents of shadow swirl about you. Eyes of all shapes and colours gleam out at you, attached to faces born of pure insanity.

 Buck smiles at you. The smile breaks, exploding with golden teeth, his body covered in filthy, matted fur. It is no longer even remotely human, with fur that bubbles like molten tar and drips like oil, ever changing. Long leathery fingers reach out for you.

“Don’t worry. You’ll leave in the same condition that you arrived. Mind, spirit, and body. But in the meantime,” Buck’s golden eyes flare with delight.

“Fancy another kiss?”

 

You awake on your back. Staring at a dazzling sun, you wince. Thinking for a moment you remember what you were supposed to do. You’d brought a list after all. You’d thought this through.

 Now all that is left is to find the Other they call Buck.

Ravens and Crows Part 2: An Ivar Imagine

Part two of my request from @lyra-stark99 about Ivar meeting a mythological creature in the woods as a child. Apparently I can’t contain this and there will be a part 3. I did my best with the mythology but if it’s inaccurate I apologize!

Part one can be found here: https://underthenorthstar.tumblr.com/post/161676333060/ravens-and-crows-part-one-an-ivar-imagine

Laoch beag- little warrior

Eire- Ireland

Aoife is pronounced Ee-fa

****

Ivar grew.

And as he grew, he learned. He learned about his gods, how to please them and honor them. He learned how to use a sword and a bow. He learned how to sit back and observe, to store up information and then best decide how to use it to his advantage. Most important of all, he learned what it was like to have a friend.

For that is was Aoife came to be to him, over the years. Always by his side, in public as a cat and in private as whatever form she chose. She talked to him of many things, of creatures and gods and a world so very different from his own.

“I am called a puca,” she told him one day, not long after she had first come to him. He had scrunched up his nose at the funny word.

“A what?”

“A puca. A spirit, a shapeshifter. I can choose my form, whatever I please. In my land, Eire, there are many of us. Some choose to harm humans, others, like me, choose to help them.”

“So you are here to help me?” Ivar had frowned. “With what? Who sent you? Are the gods in Eire? Did Odin send you?”

Aoife had laughed. “Does your All-Father bless the people of the Green Isle? No, he cares only for the Northmen. As he should. My people are cared for by their own gods. I will teach you about them. Along with many other things. It will do good for you to know.”

Ivar had asked why, but all she had said was he would find out when he was ready. He did not particularly care to know about other gods, but he was desperate to know what secrets she was keeping from him. So he listened.

She taught him of the Morrigna, of the three sisters called The Morrigan, Babda Catha, and Macha, who gave prophecies and determined battles. She taught him of The Dagda, the “good god”, who fathered the beloved Brigit, lady of poetry. She taught him of Eriu, Mother of the Land. She spun stories of kelpies, leprechauns and fairies. He did not want to be interested, but he found himself captivated by her tales. Eire seemed like such a lush place, a place of old power and strong blood. He longed to see it with his own eyes. He was surprised to find it was easy to believe there was more than just his gods. Of course, the gods of his people were superior. But he supposed it was plausible every people had their own gods to look after them.

She also taught him her lilting language, the strange words heavy on his tongue at first, but gradually getting easier. They spend many afternoons in the forest, Aoife patient as he attempted to make conversation in what she called Gaeilge. He was surprised he liked the way the words sounded from his mouth. He found himself speaking Gaeilge to himself when he was at home, Aoife purring and batting her paws against him proudly when he would say things correctly.

She never left him, save for a short period about three years after she had decided to stay. She told him she had to return to Eire for a while, and was gone for almost a month. He felt morose while she was gone, and he was more snippy and angry than usual. It wasn’t the same without her constant presence, whether as a girl or cat. He was deeply afraid she would not return to him, that she had grown tired of his temper. It was then he realized that she had actually become a friend. His first friend. The thought made him almost….happy. When she was there, he no longer felt the weight of crushing loneliness, and on days when he just wanted the pain to end, her stories and her presence kept him from total darkness. When she finally came back, it felt as if a weight was lifted from him. She had returned. His friend. His companion. His Aoife.

“You will not leave me again,” he told her, eyes blazing. “You are my friend. No one else’s. If you have to go back to Eire, I will come with you.”

Aoife smiled at him, and something strange shone in her eyes. “Oh laoch beag, I cannot promise that I will not leave again. But I will say this: you will have a different companion one day, and the tether between your hearts will burn so hot and so bright the sun will pale in comparison.”

He did not know what to say, and she did not offer any more.

It was then, upon her return, that the dreams started. Dreams of crows and ravens, circling him. Of a terrifying but beautiful woman, covered in blood, crying out to him from amidst a desolate battlefield. An old man, shaking a maiden’s hand, dislike but understanding on both their faces. A pretty young girl, blue flowers in her hair and freckles across her nose, humming softly as she stirred a bubbling pot over a fire: He always awoke with a sense of longing in his chest, like he was aching for something but he did not know what. He asked Aoife what they meant, but she refused to tell him.

Until the day his father returned.

He was sitting out in the woods, contemplating what the return of his father meant. He hated the man, hated him for leaving. But yet he loved him, deep down within his often hurt heart. He wanted to go to England with him, to prove his worth to Ragnar, but he did not know if it was what he should do.

Aoife appeared then, in girl form. She never aged her appearance, always stayed the young girl of about six years old. The girl with the familiar face he still could not quite place. It was odd to think of himself keeping company with a child. But, then again, she was not really a child.

“You will go to England,” she said, without preamble. “You need to see what happens there. It was foretold.”

“You are always telling me things are foretold,” Ivar grumbled, not in the mood for her cryptic words. “Yet you never tell me what actually you mean. You have told me many times I will learn when I am ready. I am a man now, am I not ready? I grow tired of your riddles!”

Aoife sat beside him, her tail curling to brush his hand. “You have learned many things, laoch beag. You have conquered many fears and become a clever and sharp man. There is still a ways to go. But England will change that.” She sighed, suddenly looking very ancient despite her youthful face. “I think it is time.”

Ivar’s eyebrows shot up, surprise written across his features. “Time?”

“Yes, Ivar,” Aoife’s voice was steady, sure. “It is time you know what was foretold about you, why I came to you in the first place. In truth, I was sent by the one who forsees all, who looked into the future and saw a man with twisted legs and a keen mind. Who gazed across the sea and saw you.”

Ivar’s heart missed a beat. “The Morrigan.”

“Yes,” Aoife nodded. “The Morrigan.”

I looked into the future and saw him. A man without bones, but tall and proud. Blood in his teeth, fire in his heart. He will come with a vengeance, he will conquer and claim and make Eire his own. His All Father smiles upon him. We will meet him, and we will fall at his feet. We will give him our daughter, our Meara, blessed with the gift of the craft. His seed with quicken in her womb, and a child of great deeds and power will emerge. Two bloodlines, forged together. Strong. Iron clad and unbendable. The Northman and the Daughter of the Isle. Make the preparations. Speak to the All Father. Send the child a guide. He must grow and learn, he must endure and he must sail. I have seen it, and so it shall be.

We will await your coming, Ivar the Boneless.

*****
Hope you enjoy! Have a good day or night, my dears ❤️

@belle-scarre
I think you wanted to be tagged?

The púca is a fey creature from Celtic folklore. It can change shape, but often appears as a black goat, horse or hare. There are conflicting stories about the creature’s nature, with some claiming it is malevolent, and others saying it brings good fortune.

Thomas Crofton Croker claimed that púca are “wicked-minded, black-looking bad things” who would harm unwary travellers. On the other hand, Irish poet Lady Wilde related a tale of a púca who helped a young farmhand with his work.

The púca is associated with the Gaelic harvest festival of Samhain, and some farmers will leave a small amount of produce in the fields to placate the púca.

Image source.

Monster master list.

Suggest a spook.

8

Never Ending List of Amazing Female Characters-

Brooke Davis (One Tree Hill)

“I wasn’t a very good person. I was pretty lost, and over the past four years I have been forced to grow up. I stopped letting boys define me and started believing in myself and my potential.”

Postoje li odrasle djevojčice?

Kad sam iz dječačkih godina polako hvatao neke grimase odrastanja, ljudi moje gluposti počeše opravdavati nekakvim pubertetom. Tad pojma nisam imao šta ta riječ znači a interneta, nećete vjerovati, još nije bilo. I tako ja odem do starog i pitam ga – ćale, šta mu ga je taj pubertet?

Stari me prvo pogleda k'o da sam upravo na pod ispustio hladno pivo koje mi je rekao da mu donesem, uhvati se za glavu mrmljajući „znači do tog je došlo“ u vlastitu bradu i glavom sugerisa da sjednem preko puta. Scenografija je nagovještavala ozbiljan razgovor.

-Slušaj, veli on mrtav ozbiljan. Pubertet ti je ono kad djevojčice odluče da je vrijeme da odrastu. Desi se preko noći, jedan dan ti je najbolja drugarica a sutradan u školu dođe viša za 20 cenata i odjednom više ne priča s tobom već zagleda starije momke i šapuće s drugaricama. Pubertet nema nikakve veze s dječacima.

Kako nema jebote, meni svi govore da me puca pubertet čim napravim glupost. Posvađam se – pubertet. Odvrnem muziku i skačem po sobi – pubertet. Nisam gladan – pubertet. Došlo mi da mu kažem da lupa sirove gluposti i da bi bolje bilo da ga ništa nisam ni pitao. Nisam to izgovorio, naravno. Stari je bio za'eban tip tih godina i vjerovatno bi me dočekao jedan solidan šamar, dovoljno jak da me u trenu lansira na drugu stranu imaginarnog puberteta. Stari nastavi ne promijenivši facu ni sekunde.

-Dječaci ostaju dječaci, to nam je u krvi. Uvijek ćeš gledati da ukradeš malo vremena od života i provedeš ga s jaranima. Gledat ćeš tekme dok te ima, iskradat’ se i pijan pravit’ budalu od sebe na ulicama čak i kad budeš imao trideset… a ako to ne budeš radio, onda će to biti zato što si se predao ženi koja je preboljela tu prvu dječiju bolest, taj famozni pubertet. I dalje ćeš sve to željeti ali naravno, neće biti ni vremena niti će biti „u skladu s tvojim godinama“. Eto, toliko znam o pubertetu. Nisam ti ja pravi tip za savjete, tu bi možda bilo pametnije da slušaš mater jer ta žena i dan danas zna više nego što ću ja znati u trenutku kad budem umirao.. ali ovo ti sa sigurnošću mogu reći: nađi sebi djevojku koja nikad nije izašla iz puberteta.

Koja nikad nije izašla iz puberteta? Sad ja njega gledam ko da je ispustio hladno pivo na pod a on se u pjenušavoj lokvi cereka i vidno uživa u ovom razgovoru.

-Da ti objasnim. Curice su pametne, mi nismo. One u jednom trenutku skapiraju svrhu života i tu tajnu nam nikad ne otkriju – zato ih ne razumijemo. One već znaju sva pravila igre a mi mislimo da u toj igri možemo dobiti. Ko je ikad pobijedio u kasinu? Niko, naravno. Većina žena su pravo opasna i proračunata bića o kojima znamo jedino to da su promjenjivog raspoloženja i da mjesec ima neke veze s tim. Ko da su vukodlaci jebote. Ali kao i u svemu, postoje izuzeci. Na svakih hiljadu žena, jedna ili dvije nikad ne odrastu. Ostanu djeca, vedrog srca i sposobne da vole. To tražiš. To je naša svrha na Zemlji.

-Da tražimo žene koje nikad nisu odrasle?

-Tačno tako, žene u pubertetu. Lahko ih je prepoznati, vidjet ćeš dok malo porasteš. Ta bića čudno zrače, lebde kad hodaju ulicom. A ove koje su odrasle imaju ozbiljne face i gaze kao da marširaju, njih ne možeš promašiti. Uvijek su stroge, nemaju puno pitanja i ne pričaju više nego što treba ali s tvoje kože čitaju stvari koje im ni pijan ne bi rekao. Ako te takva uhvati, nema ti spasa. Postat ćeš odrastao.



Moj stari je uvijek bio rasijan tip. Na momente bi pričao gluposti, smijao se i prepričavao kako je Tito varao Jovanku sa nekim pionirkama, umirući od smijeha dok imitira njegov glas usred zavođenja jedne od njih. S druge strane, bilo bi dana kad ne bi riječ progovorio. Samo bi zurio negdje u ništavilo našeg neuredno okrečenog zida i brojao vlastite živce. Nije ih ostalo mnogo, taj čovjek je preživio više nego što pojedini na filmu vide. Danas je u godinama kad postaje mudrac.

Voli da mi prodaje zajebatorske fore i da mi kroz nekakve zagonetke daje savjete. Prvo sam mislio da je sve to njegov hobi i da nema neke posebne fore iza njegovih rečenica ali iskusan je stari. I bješe u pravu, sve jednu riječ. Dođoh u godinje kad treba tražiti nekog s kim ću ubijati sumorne dane, dođoh do planiranja vlastite budućnosti i spržih jezik na vrelo mlijeko – odrasle žene. Nikad više jebo me pas. Pubertetlija do groba!