do you know of any sources for Tooth Fairy Loki? Because that is amazing and I want to know more, but googling isn't yielding anything useful.
My professor cited a Faroese tradition (in the post I made with the drawing I said Danish bc I was looking at the wrong page of notes: later corrected it, but for some reason the original post is the one that is going around again. Sorry!) but as it stands I don’t know which specific legend/poem/children’s rhyme/etc. he is referring to.
However, in this paper on Loki in relation to the Vätte and the Ash-Lad, there is talk of a folk tradition in Telemark, Norway, of giving small offerings to the fire for “Loke”, and in “South-Eastern Sweden and Swedish-speaking areas East of the Baltic: milk teeth are thrown into the fire during the recitation of
a rhyme that addresses Lokke~Luku~Luki~Nokk(e)…. ´Lokke, Lokke, give me a gold-tooth | Here you have a gold-tooth´” (Heide, 67). They later mention that in the areas closest to Finland milk teeth are offered to either Lokke, Nokk(e), or Tomten.
The paper goes on to say that this fire-teeth-thing MUST mean that Loki lives under the fireplace, but there are so many other Nordic variants on Loki´s daily business out there (it’s raining while the sun’s out: Loke is beating his children; the sun is shining on wet ground: Loke is out in the fields today, etc.) not to mention the fact that the paper also explicitly cites other crazy ways of disposing of baby teeth, such as shoving them in walls (Iceland) or dropping them through cracks in the floor (Småland) for someone called ‘Mouse’.
So: there is evidence of this tooth-giving phenom, but I would read this paper with care as I think the spider thread (pun) is weak, and the idea that creatures such as Vätte, Ash-lad, Tomte, ‘Mouse’, etc. are all the same type of being is not accurate: if you take the tail off of a Hulder, she does not a Nissen make, for example. Nonetheless it is exciting to see how much Loke/Lokke we can find in rhymes and folklore throughout the Nordics and Scandinavia, as Loki himself survives only in the myths of Iceland and the Faroes.
Seems like a drunk Switch is ranting to a random person. “And- and the previous kid- she- she was the worst- and she killed my bro- then reset and now he’s back but everyone remembers what she did, and- and she needs to die, but she’s already dead? Do- do you get me?”
A twinge of the sixth sense caused Serenade to open eir eyes. Rockman was here, for the first time in a long while. Something was different, the usual blossom of elation that came with such news did not bloom inside eir. There was a whirling mass of painfully lost confusion stirring in eir gut. Almost like… no. This wasn’t as sinister.
Serenade vanished from were ey sat, and appeared again in the murky depths of the Undernet. Rockman was there, a few meters away, in the thick of an attack against a virus horde. Serenade observed for a moment, then calmly swiped eir palm. As it passed over the viruses, they simply vanished from existence.
“… Something is lacking from you.” Eir voice carried as ey walked closer. “Tell us, where has your unity gone?”
“I have been loving you a little more every minute since this morning.” –Victor Hugo, Les Miserables
Victor looked at the back of Mary’s head with a contemplative stare, a book resting on her chest, long forgotten. She had lost her place when Mary had entered the room, so was the defining quality of her attendance. A cool personage, but a tender look–Victor knew the best way to love without neither suffocation or aloofness.
Sitting up, she let her hair rest easy on her shoulders, a thoughtful hum still emanating from her lips. Victor dog-earred her forgotten page–a nasty force of habit for some–and gently placed the book aside on the table, standing up and stretching accordingly. She walked over behind Mary, loud enough to alert her Mary of her presence but soft enough to not disturb whatever thought was going through that pretty head of hers.
Once having approached accordingly, Victor began to gently run her fingers through Mary’s hair, looking thoughtful still. Her hum intensified.
“…hmmm…We should go get our hair trimmed…and get new clothes…” Victor mused a loud, brushing Mary’s hair with her fingers, “…I wish to go out tonight. Dinner, perhaps? I have heard zat ze cafe down ze street is quite good…when we are done wiz errands, we can go have lunch zere…does zat sound good to you?”
Switch seems to have fallen asleep at his post, having not noticed the alternate enter his timeline. Papyrus is gonna have his head when he finds out he fell asleep on the job. It’d be a good idea to wake him up before his bro comes.
River Song's Wardrobe (Updated for “The Husbands of River Song”!)
So after my post on Martha Jones’ wardrobe got unexpectedly loved, and before I wrote about Rose’s Series 1 clothes, I thought I’d continue to put my two favorite things together (costume analysis and Doctor Who) and see what I could come up with. Because this is my specialty, yo, and it makes me happy.
So: let’s do River Song!
Now, there’s a small difficulty here. Either I can analyze River’s outfits in the order we see them, thus revealing the writer/viewer’s arc of her character’s trajectory, or we can look at them in the order River wore them from her perspective, going all in-universe and watching River’s wardrobe progression in the order it happened for her. I’ve decided to go with the second object, because then we can admire how the costume team managed to keep certain threads (oops, pun) consistent in a story that’s all out of order and out of time. And then you can go back and piece it together in order if you want! What nerds we are!
So, anyway, what’s River wearing when we first meet her? Well.
I’m sure it’s the height of baby-fashion, whatever it is. One nice anon pointed out that it looks like something called a Halo sleep sack, though, so there’s a thing for you. Baby fashion, guys. It’s complex.
River/Melody appears a few more times as a child, but her clothes are so little seen that I can’t really build anything solid off of them. River’s wardrobe only really starts to come into its own when she’s under the name of Mels, larking about with her parents:
What a lovely gif. You can’t see the outfit terribly well (because I chose this gif over closer shots, sue me), but it’s a gray tank and a black leather jacket. Not much to go on, but tank tops tend to be for active people and leather jackets always signal “tough person,” unless David Tennant is wearing one and looking like a wet adorable rat.
He is so smoll.
But the color palette for Mels’ clothes is already important: despite being a very colorful person, River sticks to a neutral palette most of the time, relying most heavily on beigey colors or muted earth tones, often with a shot of black to spice it up.
Kinda like the above outfit, actually. While we’re looking at it, note the pattern on her dress: how weird it is, kind of skeletal. It’s bold, but not an easily identifiable print like polka dots or stripes or florals. It looks like rows of spines, or barbed fencing. Something fierce and weird and not to be trusted.
Ah, good, now Alex Kingston is wearing it! Look at how the fit changes: that’s the River Song shape, right there, from the knee-length hem to the v-neck neckline to the drapey bodice. There’s usually a lot of draping in her dresses; I think it’s to add to the drama of it all, that appearance she has of living life on a very great stage.
In the above picture, River’s showing off her great lace-up boots, too. Here is someone who came dressed for murder. She totally looked in the mirror today and said “And that’s how an assassin looks!” to herself, while dancing to punk rock. Or to the screams of horrified civilians, as happens with her next outfit.
Victor was sensitive to these sort of things: the silences, the looks, the distance. Her observational skills did not allow these sort of things to run past her attention–perhaps it was a survival tactic, something she had developed over the years. You had to pick out suspicious behavior to survive, after all–otherwise you were dead.
But this was not meant for her survival; it was for his.
When Victor had founded him distracted, alone and looking pale, she had taken her chance. Sneaking up from behind, she wrapped her arms around his waist and gently placed her chin atop his head, nuzzling into his hair. She had figured he would pull away, say something, or perhaps remain there, comforted, silenced.
She was wrong.
Victor was taken off guard by his sudden turnabout, suddenly clinging onto her like dear life and burying his face into her shoulder. For a moment, she was winded, then she could hear the sounds of soft weeping emanating from Eisuke.
Victor said nothing; instead, she tightly hugged Eisuke, returning the favor, before lifting a hand and gently stroking his hair in a rhythmic pattern, hoping that it would aid in soothing him.
After some silence, she spoke up, “…I cannot say if it will be alright…but whatever it is zat is bozering you, you will get zrough it, I know…I will be zere every step of ze way wiz you, okay? You will be okay…”
Hey everyone, with the Hiatus still in full swing, hopefully
over soon, I thought it might be a good time to share some theories I’ve been
having concerning some of the characters that we’ve yet to see in the comic. A
quick trip to the casts page will show you everything you need to know, but for
those who’d prefer not to:
And their demons.
I’m gonna put all of this under
the cut to avoid clogging up anyone’s dash.
This is a permanent starter call for MY MUTUALS! What this means is that if you like this you’re giving Ciel and Hera permission to spam you with memes, shitty puns, dad jokes, threads, and anything else we think you’d like. This also gives you permission to toss things at us as well and invade my IMs whenever you feel the need! It also gives you the opportunity to add me on Sky.pe and dis.cord!
Upon seeing his confused expression, a smug smile pulled itself taut across her lips, brown eyes looking triumphant–not that it was celebrating any sort of long-awaited victory over her lawful nemesis. Rather, it was over the fact that she got him so unwillingly off balance with such a simple phrase.
“Yes, Socialist Candy.”
Victor held up a bag of sweets, all decked out in colorful wrappers with fun-looking text imprinting slogans all across the body. A sheet of paper was stapled to the bag, indicating either a script or an information sheet she was required to read off of, not that she ever did anyway. Victor was pretty convincing on her own.
“Ze Socialist Party is doing a fundraiser nation-wide in order to acquire funds for proper campaign management in upcoming elections. Buy one candy bar for 110 yen or you can get ze whole bag for 2218 yen–all proceeds go to supporting ze National Socialist Party. Would you like some candy, sir?”
Really, Victor just wanted to shut him up–was it her, or did detectives really like to monologue? She was trying to be polite and listen the best she could, but she then got bored halfway through and stopped listening. When the conversation became directed at her, Victor was at a loss for what to say–wasn’t she being accused of something? She can’t remember–so she just blurted out her practiced sales pitch in hopes of at least getting some cash for her new cause. He better have some money or all her waiting around was for nothing.