skinned hare

Jagged Pieces

A fic I posted to ao3. Canon divergence. 3k.

They just need to make it north. To Jon.

It takes Arya nearly five years before she manages to smuggle Sansa out of King’s Landing, and when she does the Boltons hold Winterfell, most of her family is long gone, Jon is the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, and Sansa…

Sansa is not as she was.

She never will be again.

“For the Watch. For the Watch. For the Watch.”

Arya twitches. Three moons, they’ve been on the road, and she’s no closer to making sense of her sister’s mutterings than she was when she’d broken into her cell in the dungeons beneath the Red Keep, Sansa pale and nude, knees close to her chest as she whispered, “Fire and blood. Fire and blood.” She’d been staring straight ahead, at the claw marks littering the stone wall, and when she turned her head to look at Arya, she showed no surprise at seeing her. No shock, no joy, no relief. No nothing.

Only; “Fire and blood.”

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I have to buy boxes for this Overwatch Anniversary just to get some skins and I wind up paying in game currency for that D.VA skin <___<

I use D.VA as my trump card, but I’m doing my best on maiming Sombra, Mei, and a few other characters.

  • Pearl: Who recalls the fable of the tortoise and the hare - the swift yet lazy little cottontail and his slow but determined companion? What does this story teach us?
  • Amethyst: Kill the hare! Skin it! Boil it!
  • Lapis: Put the tortoise on the highway!
  • Peridot: During rush hour!
  • Pearl: Yes!

So basically I have had this idea FOREVER, and to truly develop it would take a really long time, but I couldn’t resist at least putting together the basic structure.  I’m not sure if I’ll go back and develop it further at some point, but I wanted to share it with you guys.  I’d really love your feedback on this one!

When Jon Snow rode for the Wall for the first time, his head was full of delusions.  He thought of the stories of the brave men of the Night’s Watch defending the Wall from wildlings and worse. He thought of becoming a ranger like his Uncle.  And hidden, somewhere deep in his heart, he thought about finding the missing Stark girl.

Sansa Stark had been taken by wildlings when she was five years old. The Starks had been visiting the Umbers.  The men had gone on a hunt while the ladies enjoyed a ride.  Sansa and one of the Umber girls had raced ahead.  The afternoon had been full of laughter, until the laughter turned to screaming.  The Umber girl screamed and cried and pointed in the direction they’d taken her.   

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Dazed and Distracted, Can’t You Tell? (GastonxFemale!Reader fanfic)

Hey-Howdy-Ho! New obsession, new fics, and new blogs! Enjoy! If you’d like to be on the tag list, just message me! 

Dazed and Distracted, Can’t You Tell? Chapter 1

word count: 854

“Must you go join the war?“ You asked for the uptenth time, grasping hold of the 15 year old boys off white peasant shirt. Though he was barely three years older than you, he had already sprouted up over a head taller, so when he looked down at you, you had to crane your neck to look at him in his blue eyes. 

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If you’ve ever seen Sam Rami’s cult horror classic “Evil dead 2”, you may remember the Necronomicon, aka. “The book of the dead”; bound in human skin and inked in human blood.

But books of this nature are not strictly limited to the fictional horror world as you can find examples of them throughout history.

 Dated back to the 17th century, anthropodermic bibliopegy, as it is called, wasn’t as uncommon as one may think. There is many a book on the subject of anatomy bound in the skins of post-dissection cadavers, who donated their flesh willingly as stated in their last wills and testaments.

 Mostly famously “The Narrative of the Life of James Allen”, an autobiographical work by outlaw and highwayman, James Allen, was a death bed confession and life story, written during his incarceration.

Due to Allen’s illiteracy, the book was transcribed by a warden and published in 1837 by a company named Harrington and Co. 

The original copy was bound in Allen’s own skin, and at his request, presented to one of his previous robbery victims to commend his bravery.

William Burke, of the infamous Burke and Hare murder team were known for their midnight prowling of the streets of Edinburgh, where they would drug and murder their victims, in order to turn their bodies over to a local anatomist for profit. Post execution, Burke’s skin was used to fashion a pocket book, which is currently displayed in Edinburgh museum.

 Another example is English Bristol native and convicted murderer John Horwood, whose court proceedings were bound in his skin after he was hanged in 1821 having murdered his girlfriend after seeing her with another boy.

He threw a stone at the couple, which made contact with the head of his then girlfriend, Eliza Balsom, hitting her in the temple, causing a fracture to her skull.

She died some days later and Horwood was convicted and hanged.

His skeleton was donated to the University of Bristol, where it stood with the noose still around the neck until 2011, when his skeletal remains were eventually laid to rest alongside his father.

A more opportunistic and grisly example of human flesh bound books, and other various articles, took place during the French Revolution.

As not to waste the vast amount of human surplus left behind by the guillotine executions, the skins of the executed were sold as leather and used to bind books as well as used in the manufacture of leather waist coats and shoes.

From the skins or the convicted, to the flesh donated by admirers, and even erotic texts bound in the skin of women’s breasts, there are many existing examples of anthropodermic bibliopegy still around today.


mythology edit: pan

and in the house dryope bare hermes a dear son who from his birth was marvellouse to look upon, with goat’s feet and two horns–a noisy, merry-laughing child. but when the nurse saw his uncouth face and full beard, she was afraid and sprang up and fled and left the child. then luck-bringing hermes received him and took him in his arms: very glad in his heart was the god. and he went quickly to the abodes of the deathless gods, carrying his son wrapped in warm skins of mountain hares, and set him down beside zeus and showed him to the rest of the gods. then all the immortals were glad in heart; and they called the boy p a n

thevicepope  asked:

Is Pan the same as Dionysis?

No, but they have a close relationship! Pan is a rustic god of shepherds, hunting, debauchery, libido, etc etc, and he is often sited as part of Dionysos’ train. And can you blame them? They have plenty in common, so it’s really no surprise they hang out a lot.

Probably my favorite reference of these two is just after Pan’s birth (Hermes is his father), because it makes it clear that Dionysos loved him from the start.

“ Then luck-bringing Hermes received him and took him in his arms: very glad in his heart was the god. And he went quickly to the abodes of the deathless gods, carrying his son wrapped in warm skins of mountain hares, and set him down beside Zeus and showed him to the rest of the gods. Then all the immortals were glad in heart and Bakkheios (Bacchic) Dionysos in especial; and they called the boy Pan [i.e. derived from the wordpantes meaning ‘all’] because he delighted all their hearts.“  

Here’s the Theoi page on Pan

The Hunt [Dakog/Shey]

“Might as well strip down, sweetheart. We’re not going to get a chance to change before we have to be furry.” The moons were rising, and the soggy, miserable clearing in Falkreath was freezing. Still, many of the current inhabitants were naked, some of them wearing noting but the skins of past Hares to show the proof of their skill. It made it easy to single out non-weres; they wore armor and weapons, quivers and rucksacks.

“Over there, that’s one of the northern wolf packs.” Shey nodded to Dakog, and then a group of starkers Nords and Imperials. “They don’t like me, so you should get to be fast friends.” Shey had made few friends with the weres who were serious about Hunts. Her tendency to stick to the fringes and never engage was tantamount to sacrilegious.

“But the ones to w-watch out for is Falkreath’s p-pack.” After struggling out of her clothing, the chill in the air was already making her teeth chatter. The stuttering out of words made her sound frightened. At least she could blame it on the cold, and not the pit of dread in her stomach. Something felt off, more so than usual.

She shook it off to focus on the task at hand. “They kn-know this place. You can count the number of Hare they’ve brought down just by pushing them down, down dead ends.” Almost every member of the Falkreath pack sported a were-skin and a snarl. There were no friendly faces tonight, and there would be none.

“Hope you’re paying attention.” If she didn’t freeze before Hircine picked his Hare, it would be a miracle. She turned to the orc, waiting. “Though, you’re probably going to tell me how little you care about specifics.”

Me dieron gato por liebre.

Translation: I was given cat instead of hare, meaning I was duped.

Example: I told them I wanted a vacation in the Caribbean, but they sent me to the Jersey shore! I was given cat instead of hare.

**History note: My husband said that this saying originated from when vendors would try to pass off skinned cats for hares, which cost more. After doing some internet sleuthing, we have discovered this is actually a saying from Spain from the medieval era, where hunters would try to trick innkeepers to sell cat instead of hares! And because of Spain, it passed through Latin America—evidently, Chileans and Argentinians also use this phrase. It came back into fashion during the World Wars, since food was scarce. So, the more you know!