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arecaceae175 · 1 year

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Febuwhump Day 23: "You'll have to go through me" (Wind)

AO3 link. This is a continuation of Day 22: Can't Scream (Wind).

NatureLover on AO3 wanted protective Legend and @aurora--lights wanted a continuation of yesterday’s prompt AND I’m having fun with the spook so I combined the requests and here you go! I hope you both enjoy!

Warnings: discussion of stuff from the last chapter, but nothing in huge detail

Part 3/3. Part 1. Part 2.

Wind was alone.

The monsters picked them off one by one until Wind was the only one left. There was no struggle, no screams, barely any noise at all. Both times Wind heard a rustling of leaves, then a tug on his hand and then the others were gone. Just gone.

Wind sniffled and hugged himself tighter. He had no idea what to do, no idea where to go, and no idea if the others were okay. He couldn’t leave the forest until he found them, but if he made any noise the monsters would get him too. He couldn’t rescue the others if he was taken.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Wind was terrified. Put a sword in his hand and he could fight anything and everything. But this? He didn’t even know where to start.

A stick broke. Wind froze. He hoped he was high enough in the tree that the monsters would keep moving, as long as he didn’t make any noise.

“Hyrule! Wind!”

That sounded like Legend. Wind furrowed his brow in confusion. Legend wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Four! Wild! Anyone?” Maybe-Legend yelled. He was stomping heavily through the forest and had a lantern casting a dull glow around him. Wind held his breath.

“I swear I’m never letting any of you out of my sight again,” Maybe-Legend muttered. He was nearly right below Wind’s tree. Wind’s heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.

“Hello? In search of fellow heroes!” Maybe-Legend yelled. He kicked a small rock and it tumbled until it was directly below Wind.

That sounded like Legend. It looked like Legend, but Wind didn’t trust that anymore. He was moving the same way Legend moved, without any of the monsters’ weird strides and stiffness. Wind but his lip, caught in indecision. If it really was Legend, he was finally safe. Legend could help him rescue the others then he could finally, finally leave this Hylia-damned forest.

But if it was a trick?

Maybe-Legend stopped underneath Wind’s tree. He leaned up against the tree and pulled out his waterskin. After he took a sip, he leaned his head back against the tree, eyes closed.

Wind could count the number of times on one hand he had felt more scared.

After a moment, Maybe-Legend opened his eyes and gazed up into the tree. His eyes found Wind’s bright blue tunic immediately, and he pushed himself off the tree.

“Wind?” Legend asked.

Wind felt himself sag in relief. Legend could see him! He was real!

Wind jumped down from the tree and tackled Legend in a hug. He wrapped his arms around Legend as tight as he could and buried his head into Legend’s chest. Legend caught Wind easily, arms around his back.

“Woah, are you okay? What’s wrong?” Legend asked. There was no trace of his usual sarcasm in his voice.

Wind felt tears building behind his eyes and desperately willed them away. He shook his head, not trusting his voice.

“Okay. Hey, you’re okay,” Legend muttered, hands rubbing comforting circles on Wind’s back. Wind allowed himself exactly twelve more seconds of the hug before he swallowed his emotions and pulled away from Legend. Legend let him go but kept his hands on Wind’s shoulders.

“Are you okay?” Legend asked, ducking slightly to meet Wind’s eyes.

“I’m okay,” Wind said. “I don’t know about the others, though.”

“What happened?” Legend asked.

“There’s some sort of creature in the woods,” Wind said. His voice was barely above a whisper. “They don’t have eyes, but they can hear everything . Their bodies are weird and black and fleshy and way too long ! They can also shapeshift, but they didn’t do that at first. I think they figured out we were smarter and changed tactics? And they took the others, and I don’t know how to find them, and-”

“Woah, sailor, breathe,” Legend said. “You’ve gotta slow down. The others were taken?”

Wind nodded rapidly. “The monsters took them. They got Wild first, then stole his body and then there were two of Wild but neither of them were actually Wild. ‘Rulie figured it out, he could tell something was off. They got him next, and then Four. I didn’t see any copies of Four, though. I ran and hid and I haven’t left the tree."

Wind felt the guilt hit him like a physical blow. What was he doing ? How could he have hid while the others were taken?

“I’m sorry,” Wind said. “I didn’t know how to find them, and I-”

“Stop,” Legend said, squeezing Wind’s shoulders. “I don’t want to hear that shit. Sounds to me like you would’ve been taken too if you hadn’t hid. We’ll find them.”

Wind swallowed down his guilt and nodded rapidly. “You’re right,” Wind said. Legend smiled.

Wind couldn’t change his actions in the past, but he could make sure he found his brothers now. It was time to figure out their plan.

“Where are the others?” Wind asked.

“We split up to look for you,” Legend said.

Wind sighed and ran a hand through his hair in aggravation. “That means we can’t trust anyone else. And we need to make sure we don’t get separated. Do you have any rope?”

“Yeah,” Legend said, and he turned to pull it out of his bag. Wind kept a tight grip on his shirt. “Why do we need rope?”

“Me and ‘Rulie and Four were holding hands and the monsters still took them,” Wind explained. Legend handed him the rope and he set to work tying it around both their waists. “This way even if the monsters try, they’ll have to separate us and cut the rope.”

Legend nodded. Wind finished tying the knots then attached himself to Legend’s side. It was strategic, sure, but Wind was self aware enough to admit to himself he wanted the comfort. He would never say that out loud, though. He was still a hero.

“And we can’t make any noise,” Wind continued. “That’s how they’ll find us.”

“Don’t worry,” Legend said. “Those monsters will have to go through me, and I sure as hell won’t let them get to you. We’ll have the others back in no time.”

Wind smiled gratefully up at Legend. Legend smirked and ruffled his hair. Wind pushed his hand away with a light-hearted grumble.

Wind took a steadying breath as he intertwined their elbows together. “Let’s do this.”

#febuwhump2023 #febuwhump #febuwhump day 23 #you'll have to go through me #fic #tw:#shapeshifter #not in detail this time #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu fic #lu wind #lu legend #ace writes

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birindale · 1 year

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History of the Star Sisters, Pt. 1

A series of interviews by He-man.org user Tallstar, which I’m wishing now I hadn’t messaged him about bc I’ve since found them on my own & I feel bad for buggin’ him. Parts 1-3 were up on the org & part four’s still available on the forums--I’ll be uploading them in their original segments. This is the first.

When the opportunity arose to communicate directly with the artist responsible for conceiving the unproduced '87 Star Sisters trio, I felt an adrenaline-charged rush of excitement over the possibility of hearing back from this former Mattel employee who, in my mind, is a legend for having been instrumental in giving life to what I believe would have been some of the most innovative figures of the entire Princess of Power toy line.

For a toy line geared toward young girls, I always felt the feature-driven Starla, Jewelstar and Tallstar figures were somewhat ahead of their time and pushed the boundaries of what was possible from a storyline perspective.

Excitement then turned into almost paralyzing awe and an overwhelming feeling of honor when I finally saw the initial response in my e-mail inbox, which divulged some basic information on how the project came into existence at Mattel and left the door open for me to acquire further details.

The artist later promised to send me a word file with some additional thoughts the following week, but little did I know that I would receive a whopping four pages of information that probably had not been recounted in a number of years.

My mind was spinning. Frankly, I fantasized about something like this happening for over a decade. Ha-ha

All of the aforementioned feelings were almost immediately followed by some self-created pressure to come up with a plan for presenting the history behind The Star Sisters in way that would not only do justice to the characters, but also honor everyone who was involved back in the day. After all, this is a particularly important piece of Princess of Power history that's on par with the Powers of Grayskull extension line for Masters of the Universe.

At the same time, I was mindful of the hardcore Princess of Power fans who haven't really heard much in terms of the history of classic toy line over the years; especially when compared to the venerable Masters of the Universe line. (Let's face it. Masters fans have been treated to an explosion of information, interviews, concept art and so on, over the last decade.)

I struggled with several hypothetical scenarios. Finally, I decided Princess of Power fans would probably appreciate an online series of historical articles. This option would allow me to get something out "sooner, rather than later" to the fans who have been fiending for historical background on the Princess of Power toy line, while giving me some time to get into contact with some other members of the Mattel team who also played a role in the creation of The Star Sisters.

By now, many of you may be eager to know the name of the artist I've been showering with praise and admiration. That person is Jon Seisa, an award-winning professional with 35 years of experience as an Art Director, Designer and Illustrator. At Mattel, he served as Art Director Of Advanced Concepts for the Girls' Toy Division during his 7-year run from 1985 to 1992. He also conceived The Star Sisters.

If you don't recognize the name, no doubt many of you will be familiar with some of the brands and products Jon was involved in at Mattel: The Spectra doll line, Barbie and The Sensations, Perfume Pretty Barbie, Jewel Secrets Barbie, The Heart Family Schooltime Fun, and many, many more.

Before I continue on, I would like to preface by saying that, at the moment, I'm conceptualizing this as a two-part series of articles, and they will not be in your typical Q & A interview format, but rather Jon's personal account of working on The Star Sisters. Jon's statements will be in bold text [[note: I inverted this for consistency with other interviews; since I don’t bold intros it’s not as noticeable on this installment]]. He readily admitted to me that his memory is a bit fuzzy on some of the details, as it's been 27 years, so would I suggest that the fans go into this with the understanding that certain information may change if/when more information comes in. I'm hoping the story of the Star Sisters will come together/become clearer when I hopefully hear back from the former Disney employee that was hired to help with the backstory on The Star Sisters, as well as some past Mattel employees who were involved in the marketing end of things.

This is the story of The Star Sisters Part 1:

The Star Sisters doll line was designed to be an extension line to the Mattel Toys She-Ra, Princess of Power (POP) doll line with the lead doll She-Ra of Eternia, being for the girl-oriented consumer market and branch of the Masters of the Universe world and the animation sequels animated by Filmation. At the time, market research indicated that the life expectancy of a doll line is roughly 3 years; and thus, the marketing strategy emerged to revitalize the aging POP brand for additive commercial longevity with an extension line. Hence, The Star Sisters was the subsequent created and proposed result brought forth. However and sadly, orders from retailers and buyers were ultimately disappointing not meeting the projected and anticipated goals, and subsequently the potential line was regrettably terminated. Consumer interests were changing and moving on to other interests and new trends, and consequently the POP line began to overall fade. Initially, I was brought on to Mattel Toys in October of 1985 to join the Princess of Power design team headed by design manager Chris McAdam and under Diana Troup, then design director of Barbie and POP, to help facilitate a creative product vision of what form this extension line might possibly embody. Working with the POP design team in ideation and brainstorm sessions, with illustrators,material and artist vendors, model makers, sculptors, fashion designers, hair rooters, and face painters, we developed The Star Sisters. I formulated a preliminary product positioning for the character dolls that ultimately emerged, creating a mythic type legend of their origin. This first served as an introduction to my presentation to upper management and was used as a rudimentary foundation for further development of the back-story when we hired an outside writer/vendor, (name removed), a former associate of mine from my years at Walt Disney Imagineering prior to my employment at Mattel Toys. The legend was simple. Once upon a bygone eon… The Star Sisters were banished by a wicked celestial witch who entombed the sidereal siblings in a small star that was hurled on a collision course with the planet Eternia, resulting in a catastrophic impact that formed the subterranean Crystal Catacombs of Eternia. Thus, The Star Sisters were eternally imprisoned inside the crystalline formations, awaiting for the day of their liberation. This legend changed somewhat down the road and to some degree with the marketers’ input and the writer hired (name removed), but basically this was the fundamental scenario I had concocted and established, initially. The celestial witch remained nameless because this was not a character (doll) scheduled by management to be budgeted for development within the line. My first significant unveiling and presentation of the doll line was to one of Mattel’s top brass design executives, Judy Shackelford, and subsequently thereafter to Jill Barad, at that time the girls toys marketing director. For the Shackelford presentation, I knew I would be extremely nervous since my very employment hinged on the success of this line, so my strategy was to begin with a highly dramatic ice-breaker by creating something that I could purposely read verbatim, but in a dramatic theatrical fashion, and this would guarantee me that my nerves would not overwhelm my thought process to forget crucial details of my presentational speech. Consequently, I decided to create a legion of The Star Sisters to read, and so I created a large scroll out of over sized ochre parchment and wrote on it in calligraphy the legend of The Star Sisters. I aged the scroll to look utterly ancient and scorched its edges for additive authenticity. But before rolling it up, I sprinkled some baby talc powder and iridescent glitter in its center, and then after rolling it up I sealed it with a ribbon tie. For the presentation I strategically spread out a plethora of exotic eye-catching sparkly materials in intoxicating colorful piles on the presentation table to enhance the visual senses of the world I intended to convey; glitter fabrics, pearlized colored fabrics, lenticular colored plastics, dazzling acrylic clear jewels, large mirrored prisms, strands of crystal and vacuum metalized plastic beads,iridescent foils, Mylars, and so on. As the key people sat before me I began my presentation by relaying, "Recently, I had ventured down into the deep dark recess of Mattel’s dank and musty basement, and to my absolute bewilderment I stumbled upon the most astonishing discovery, the unearthing of this utterly ancient scroll festooned with----- the dust of the ages!" As I spoke I untied the ribbon and unfurled the scroll held before me, and immediately after I uttered the words, "…the dust of the age!" I comically blew off the baby talc and glitter lying on the open scroll which undulated upward into a big billowing white cloud of dazzling star dust. Delightfully surprised, everyone burst out with an uproar of gleeful laughter. Instantly, the ice was broken and the rest of the presentation went exceedingly well… much to my relief, as I settled calmly in the rhythm of my presentation with flawless delivery. The names of the two character dolls "Starla" and "Crystal Star" retained their original names from the very start, but "Tall Star" was a name later established by the marketing group for whatever rationale they cited, most likely for simplicity and to have the "star" aspect integrated into the name, while originally myself and the design group referred to her initially as "Expandra" and then later for my presentation it was changed to "Telescopa". The marketing culture at Mattel at that time had a tendency to rely too heavily on child testing and most often created names that were overly simplistic, often giving children elements within their known sphere of knowledge and influence, rather than promoting new unknown elements to expand their knowledge, like learning a new word. So names marketing considered to be "difficult" for children’s minds to grasp or pronounce were entirely avoided for more simplistic names, hence "Tall Star". Glory Bird was merely a reincarnation of another POP bird with color and aesthetical material changes enhancing glittery visual attributes. I never agreed with this basic Mattel Marketing principle because it promotes the "Dumbing Down of America", particularly since in Mattel’s historical infancy names for Barbie lead and feature dolls and fashions where extremely sophisticated and embodied an "ambience" that allowed children to learn new big words, like "Rhapsody Blue" or "Sophisticated Lady," which later and tragically evolved to painfully rudimentary names with the iconic Barbie name attached as if no one in the entire world knew her name was "Barbie," like "Golden Dream Barbie" or "Western Barbie."

#motu #interviews #the star sisters #i've left a few typos in (mostly using eternia instead of etheria)#he died in 2021 so i don't think he'll mind me saying so #rip king may flights of adverbs sing thee to thy rest #jon seisa #tallstar interviews

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poorly-translated-wagyan · 1 year

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Super Wagyan Land 2 (Super Famicom, 1993) Part 1

After one more adventure on the Famicom with Wagyan Land 3, Wagyan returns back on the Super Famicom with Super Wagyan Land 2, which is actually the fifth game in the series not counting the arcade game, Wagyan, which was more of a physical toy players interact with than anything. Don’t worry, things get a little less confusing from here, as this is the last numbered entry.

Super Wagyan Land 2 seems to take place immediately after Wagyan Land 3, Wagyan is home with his wife and son once more, and they can get back to their normal life...

Oh darn, a giant four-headed bird has perched itself up on the Smiley Tree and made it much less Smiley. This poor tree can’t seem to catch a break!

Once again, family relaxation time is ruined, and the Hisopiso visitor that called for Wagyan’s help has come back to Wagyan Land to aid Wagyan and his people. The Hisopiso guy states that the big bird that has invaded the Smiley Tree is named Gargon, and after saying it is invincible, he brings up a legend that may give Wagyan a fighting chance to stop this big bad bird.

Wagyan’s wife interjects, recalling the legend of a sleeping leaf that could stop Gargon. Hisopiso supports this, and urges Wagyan to look for it to put a stop to Gargon. To be honest, the translation has been rather rough so far, so I have to do my best to transcribe just what I personally think is happening. Then again, that’s what this blog is about!

I’m glad Google Translate thinks their house is good, too.

So you may have noticed by now, Wagyan seems to have gone through quite a redesign, given big bug eyes with huge marketable pupils and less junk in his trunk. This seems to match the official artwork of him more that was used since the first Wagyan Land game on the Famicom.

I always found it rather odd that they never went with this design in the first place, opting instead to make the Famicom sprite up to this game match the original Wagyan arcade toy instead.

So far, Super Wagyan Land 2 is an evolution of the series, giving Wagyan a more up-to-date design with some really cute graphics. A lot of the music isn’t reused this time either and just put through some machine that makes everything sound like steel drums. That said, the original Wagyan sprite from the past four games has a soft-spot in my heart.

Continue to Part 2>>>

#wagyan #super wagyan land 2 #super famicom #namco

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charcherry-weekly · 1 year

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Charcherry Weekly - Issue 128

Heya, Mage of Light Nick Card here, and very eepy. Let's just get through this.

Legend of Porybot

On saturday, my dear precious porygon went missing. I looked all over the house until I finally found it in Aeons's room upstairs. It managed to find their techno boots. Your dear newsletter writer attempted to remove the virtual pokemon manually, only to wind up activating the boots in the process. The boots transformed into a robot with a CRT monitor for a head. Porygon immediately took control, though it took a little while to gain balance. At one point we both fell over and bonked into eachother on the way down. As a result, Pory now knows headbutt. When Prince of Time Aeons Edgeworth returned home that night, they just sorta shrugged and let porybot keep the robot to roam around with. I can only assume they had no idea what to do with the boots in the first place In related news, Pelreol the dragonboot is still at our house and is still as sassy as ever.

Therapy update

On monday, Your dear newsletter writer finally went to therapy. I feel like I didn't get very far, but at least I still got some insight. Like, maybe I was treading too much already thought out ground or something? Then again it was only the first session. The conclusion at the end was that I need to spend more time with my friends and (surprise surprise!) I probably have abandonment issues from my experience of living on a meteor in the furthest ring for a couple years. Immediately after that, Dr. Winters went on vacation. She will return on the 22nd. I can only hope that Dr. Winters and her girlfriend return fully rested.

Gym action!

A couple nights ago, Unity Gym leader Jovin Castle issued an open invitation for pretty much anyone to challenge his gym for the first time. Witch of Time Katyleen Kitten answered the call and accepted the challenge. There were three battles in total. A key detail is that each battle required the trainers to temporarily use one of the other's pokemon against them. The first battle was against an average human trainer called John, with a number of common pokemon in uncommon colors. His base team was Raticate, Gumshoos, and Furret. Katie's base team was Sorenson the galarian slowpoke, Clayton the Golett, and Sharpedo. Katie picked Gumshoos and John picked Sorenson. Katie managed to defeat John in a rather close match. The second battle was against Kid the elf and their unevolved team. Their base team was a Pikachu, a Scyther, and a Chansey. Katie chose Kid's scyther and Kid chose Clayton. Somehow, scyther managed to hold on for quite a while, which proved to be good for Katie's chances of winning. The third and final match was against Jovin and his team. His base group was Breloom, Kubfu, Hercules the Machop, and Mr. Fish the Gyrados. Katie managed to convince him to take her "secret weapon" for the battle, which turned out to be a level 1 mime jr. Katie managed to get an upper hand from that gambit, as Mime jr fell almost immediately. Breloom managed to stick around for quite a bit, but was no match for Mr. Fish's hurricane.

With the challenge completed, Katie was given a macho brace and a back belt held item, as well as two parts of the multi-part badge. It's exciting to see the gym up and running. Just taking porybot to watch and record the matches was enough to get them to level up to level five. I will need to do some actual training with them though, especially if I ever want to be able to take on any of the gym challenges being offered at Unity Gym!

Trapped in the Closet

Last week, Rogue of Heart Charles reported that one of the many aspected wonders of the world was located in his bedroom closet. It happened to be in the heart aspect location, but reportedly had more of a mind aspect inversion angle to its manifestations. The date to set out to explore the place beyond the closet was set for the 12th. The day before this, four of their pokemon wound up wandering into the closetspace, which made the mission even more important. Accompanying Charles on this mission was the Emit Twins Rise and Brae, Warlock of Time Coleman, and Witch of Time Katie Kitten. On the way down, Rise and Brae reportedly sensed someone trying to Connect to them, which was left pending until the requesting party was able to be identified. In the meantime, the party leaped into a dark realm of oddly familiar impressions of themselves. They had met The Professor, Saint Nick, The Rook, The President, Shorts Trainer, The Monster, and The Ultimate Trainer. The mystery pending network member turned out to be Echo, an imprint of Charles that had gone missing for some time. They turned out to be important to reversing the effects of The Well, a point from which all that appeared down there had come from apparently. But before they could do that, The Ultimate trainer sought a pokemon battle. Being the only one who showed up with a highly leveled team, Brae challenged the trainer to a pokemon battle. While she and her pokemon gave it their all, they were still no match the for ultimate trainer and their overpowered team. Fortunately, despite this, Brae was able to stall the trainer long enough for Echo to activate the machine so they could send the visitors back out of the closet. And in addition to that, "the monster", a lime green eyed figure from the woods, appeared to challenge the ultimate trainer. With all four missing pokemon accounted for, charles and the others successfully escaped that mysterious dark world, reportedly devastated by what they had witnessed and experienced. I can only assume that Dr. Winters is going to be Very Busy when she gets back from her vacation...

I was initially wondering if I should have went with, but perhaps it was for the best that I stayed home.

This week’s known market stands in Desertia Town:

Caligraphy brush + supply stand (this week)

Agate bracelet stand (this week)

Katie’s potion stand (*CaFAI filling in for Katie when unavailable)

Brae’s canned goods stand (currently closed for the time being)

shinyjiggly pokesnacks stand (ran by Rufus)

That should do it for this week. Samm has returned to Kanto (with long distance contact!) and has made it to Pewter city. I haven't heard much from you, Hyacinth. How are things going over there? Are you doing okay? Please answer soon, thank you. https://letssosl.boards.net/thread/356/charcherry-weekly-issue-128

#charcherry weekly #sbarg2.5dungeoncrashers #sbargv2 #pokemon #aspected wonders of the world

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activatedspirit · 1 year

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Notes on The Fool (The Wanderer)

Four Pillars Society Tarot by Gary Rosenberg (GAR) and Nyxsaurius Fallsong

Legend: Through the Tiger’s Maw and Cracking Egg, a new existence has begun

Artist’s Notes:

A black translucent egg is seen hovering over the mostly formless ground. Within the egg can be seen what appears to be a brain and a heart. The egg is cracking and there seems to be some kind of energy radiating through, enveloping the egg as if it were about to crack open. On top of the egg is a cream-coloured top hat with a pink band. At a strange angle, a tiger can be seen. Hanging from the tiger’s maw is the bindlestiff that is normally carried by either vagabonds or the Fool in many tarot decks. The Tiger is walking away from the egg. Around the card can be seen various barely formed sigils that seem to be almost shifting in a manner as if they were constantly reforming in synch with the egg.

Potential and Possibility have amazing potency. The only limits come from the imagination or lack of it. If you combine the Fool’s (0) Possibility with the Focused intent of the Magus (1) then manifestation will occur. Nothing and Everything in a constant dance. Yet no matter how much becomes manifest, potential never becomes diminished. Each time the egg opens, an existence runs its course, the fool’s quest begins and ends again and it all returns and begins again. The realized heart of the Fool from earlier existences finds its way by chance into a new cycle of becoming.

About the Archetype:

Many people see the sequence of the Major Arcana as representing a journey towards self-actualization. This journey may be a physical one, a psychological one, or a spiritual one. Following the Golden Dawn teachings, this journey starts with The Fool. The Fool’s number is 0 and as such he or she holds the potential for all things. The Fool is beyond duality and indeed one way of looking at the Major Arcana is as the journey back after the fall into duality (represented by the Magician and the High Priestess) and the reconciliation thereafter. The Fool is both seed and egg, representing the potential to be all. He / She is the hero of Joseph Campbell’s Hero cycle. We represent the Fool anytime we embark on a new phase of life, especially ones where we leave our safety zones and enter the unknown. Consider Alice jumping down the rabbit hole or Jack about to climb the beanstalk. It is not accidental that so many of these metaphors seem somewhat Freudian. In adolescence, we individuate from our families and awake to our own sexual identities, almost a literal fall to adulthood.

Above everything else this breaking away and embarking on our own adventure is exhilarating as it is frightening. Jack joyfully climbs the beanstalk as Alice slides down the rabbit hole as Dorothy travels to Oz. They maintain their curiosity, their nerve, their instincts, and their intelligence.

In typical depictions of the Fool, he has his belongings tied onto a staff he carries representing the qualities he brings into the adventure. In my version, the guitar symbolizes exactly that. The dog barking at his feet represents the Fool’s instincts and intuition which help guide him or her along their way.

Astrological Correspondence:

Planet: Uranus (Element of Air)

When the tarot was first popularized, the only planetary attributes that were used were the Sun, Moon, and the five classical planets (Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn). Uranus was not discovered until 1781. This was followed by the discovery of Neptune in 1846 and Pluto in 1930. Originally The Fool, The Hanged Man, and Judgement were said to be ruled by the elements of Air, Water, and Fire respectively while the World had both the planet Saturn and the element of Earth attributed to it.

Air is the element of thought and any undertaking begins with an idea. We wish to learn something or find out what will happen when trying something and we do it. Often this requires a leap of the imagination if not faith. Air is the element of Spring and of all new beginnings and starts.

Uranus is often called the ‘awakener’ astrologically there can be many startling changes in whatever area of our chart Uranus is travelling through at the time. The influence of Uranus is innovative, intuitive, and inventive and encourages us to use the talents we have in ways we had never thought of before.

In a Reading:

When the Fool turns up in a reading it is often an indication that we cannot reason ourselves out of our current state. Instead, we need to trust the adventure and our instincts and jump. It may indicate that we have embarked on a new stage of life and we need to go with it in a spirit of openness and joy. The Fool tells us to trust our hearts and let go of fear-based thinking. It is possible that the Fool is cautioning us against reckless behaviour and telling us that we are close to ‘falling off a cliff’. Usually, we seldom come that close to disaster without feeling it on some level so once again the Fool is telling us to trust those instincts.

The reversed or badly aspected Fool quite often tells us we need to reason things out more than we have and that our actions of late may have been a bit foolhardy. It may indicate that in pursuing our own path we may have been inconsiderate and neglectful of those around us. It may also be an indication that we need to connect more with our inner selves.

Fate’s Whisper:

At first glance, the most relatable part of the card is the Fool’s bindlestiff. Traditionally it was held by the Fool however he is nowhere to be seen. The Tiger of Chance, which holds the Spark of Life in the Four Pillars Legend, could be easily blamed for eating him. That isn’t the case though, the mind and heart of the fool seem to be in this egg of sorts. Knowing the Fool it could be another leap he is about to take.

It is also worth noting that the top hat seems to be a part of the egg as if they are both a part of the same being. Could this be another trick of the Tiger? It would seem that until the egg hatches anything is possible.

#tarot tarotart majorarcanna theFool

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aleesblog · 2 years

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Bird of Passage

A personal quest into the life-story of Garrincha, Brazil’s unrefined legend

The Blizzard. Issue 25, June 1 2017

https://www.theblizzard.co.uk/article/bird-passage

Money talks but it don't sing and dance, and it don't walk

Neil Diamond

Under an unremarkable sky there were four of us out on the backstreet making our rings fly. I thrust my ring away then pulled it in, creating ellipses in the summer air. If it dared to slip I coaxed it back up, bending my knees and bracing my shoulders as I tried to circle the sun. Jill Clapham and Karen Pullen were streets ahead, looping their hoops in a swaying 2/4 rhythm and creating double flirts with their ductile hips. That morning as the larks rose into the sky above Little Switzerland I twirled my first ton.

At two o’clock we all ran in to watch Sweden play Brazil. My father was already crouched in front of our Bush console. I sat beside him on the hearthrug and my mother brought in a jug of Kia-Ora orange squash. On the other side of the bulbous screen a thickset man in a raincoat was triumphantly brandishing a large Swedish flag. The magic mirror then moved its focus to show the opposing teams jogging up and down uncomfortably in the silent rain. At last the referee blew his whistle and the final was afoot. A quarter of an hour into the game the commentator informed us that the effervescent Brazilian fans were singing, “Samba, Samba” even though they were losing 1-0. Garrincha, their right-winger attacked from the fringes. Twice in succession in the first half, he beat three players and his inch-perfect goalmouth crosses resulted in Vavá goals. As the game went on my eyes were drawn more and more to this hunched man who never passed the ball. On 29 June 1958 I was transported to a field of dreams somewhere on another planet.

That winter I gave up hula-hooping and started to kick a rubber ball against our coal house door. I learned to keep the pill on the ground, tame its wicked bounce and make it run. I gained a rhythm that allowed me to twist and dart past imaginary opponents. I found that with the slightest of taps from my left foot I was able to alter the ball’s speed and trajectory. I kept my feet apart, flexed my body and imagined I was Garrincha. My ball slept with me under the sheets as I listened to Bobby Vee on my portable radio.

I set unregistered record after record with that small rubber ball and became a star of the school playground. It was also the last time the skylarks darted out of the turf and diminished to dark specks in the porcelain sky, the last time they would sing their hearts out, momentarily disembodied as they summoned the sun.

It was now 1959 and I had started to go to football matches with my father. I loved the communal walk to the ground, the baying wit of the tribe and the surging swell of bodies tumbling down the terraces. But what I watched on the pitch was a war in which tough men battled it out for a paltry win bonus. The game was prosaic, forbidding and merciless and bore no resemblance to the fluidity of the Brazilian champions.

In the summer of 1966 I got to watch Brazil play for a second time. Garrincha emerged from the Goodison Park tunnel wearing the number 16 shirt. His unstoppable swerving banana kick that had hit the top right hand corner of the Park End net three days earlier had led me to anticipate a repeat performance of the mesmeric sequence of steps I had watched as an 11 year old with my father. After the band had played the national anthems Brazil’s bandy-legged outside-right ambled over to position himself next to two policemen patrolling the far touchline.

Under the floodlights and with the Liverpool crowd’s chants of “Hungary, Hungary” and “ee ay adio ” echoing in their ears Flórián Albert and Ferenc Bene set about putting the ageing world champions to the sword with fast incisive counter-attacks. Just before half-time Kenneth Wolstenholme, the BBC sportscaster, lamented, “Ah, Garrincha seems to have gone now. He has lost all the feistiness and fire and that devastating burst of speed.”

In the second half I noticed that Garrincha sometimes came inside looking for help and on the rare occasions when he tried to get round the outside of the Hungarian defence he was easily cut off and forced to pass. At the final whistle a delirium of appreciation burst forth, as toilet rolls rained onto the pitch. A stray balloon blew up from the Gwladys Street terrace, drifting forlornly in the direction of Stanley Park.

It is 2006 and I am sitting in the Bar Vesuvio in the old cocoa port of Ilhéus watching Botafogo play Vasco da Gama. The ball rarely leaves the ground and always seems to be angled perfectly through the narrowest of channels. Periodically it shoots out to the flanks and is then rifled back across the box. In this game corners and throw-ins are irrelevant. The ball dips and bends as it fires towards goal. Then out of the blue a Botafogo player goes round his opponent on the outside and I blurt out the words, “Alma de Garrincha.” An old man sitting beside me smiled kindly and said, “Garrincha jogou futebol do mesmo modo que viveu sua vida, divertindo-se e irresponsalvelmente!” [Garrincha played football the same way he lived his life, pleasing himself and running wild!]

Back in England football was now an acceptable topic of conversation in the hospital canteen. In fact there were many similarities between the modus operandi of university teaching hospitals and Premier League football clubs. One Tuesday lunchtime after rounds I explained that ‘Garrincha’ was a drab little Brazilian bird with a buzzing flight and a bubbly song that could not survive in a cage. Nobody had heard of Garrincha.

I then got out my laptop and showed them extracts from the 1963 Cinema Novo film Alegria do Povo [The Happiness of the People]. The film begins with black and white photographs of Garrincha to a soundtrack of samba. I fast-forwarded so they could see the Lone Star of Botafogo mesmerising his opponents in the Maracanã stadium.

One of the house officers, a Manchester United supporter reflected, “He plays a bit like George Best.” I replied caustically that Garrincha was Best, Stanley Matthews and John Barnes and a snake charmer rolled into one. “What’s more you don’t need slow motion/3D/surround sound from 23 angles to prove he has more tricks than Messi and more grace than Ronaldo.” I knew that my fuzzy evidence had not convinced them. They smiled benignly but knew their chief was basking in the emotional overglow of an unhealthy reminiscence bump.

Undeterred I continued to watch web compilations of the Little Bird’s sillage, much of which had been posthumously embellished by music. To Moacyr Franco’s song Balada no.7 (Mané Garrincha) I watch him double back before arrowing away to the right. A magnet seemed to be always attracting him to the margin of the pitch. His style was casual, irreverent and highly improbable but never disrespectful. He tormented and teased but never mocked. He was wordless and indefinable. For Garrincha, football was no more than a series of duels against instantly forgettable defenders and foreplay was far more enjoyable than scoring. The more joyous he made the crowd, the sterner became his facial expression. He was football’s Buster Keaton cracking jokes with his bandy legs and dancing to the gaps in the music. In one game playing for Botafogo he was even admonished by the official for flirtatious play. He was a one-man carnival who could turn life upside down with his antics. ‘Seu Mané’ expunged the prison of cause and effect from the game of football.

By the second half of the 19th century Lancashire cotton goods had become almost worthless in Brazil. Even the turbines coming in on the Liverpool boats from Manchester were in far less demand. As a consequence the 1000 or so English expatriates began to invest more in local textile production. John Sherrington, a man who had strong commercial links with Manchester, purchased a stretch of verdant land that nestled below the forested Serra dos Órgãos in the centre of the State of Rio de Janeiro. Here in 1878, in the grounds of the old fazenda, he and his two Brazilian partners constructed a textile mill. The project got off to an ill-omened start when the ancient tree said to have been more than 50m tall and with a trunk circumference greater than 30 human armspans came down during the construction of a road, but within a few years the factory was functional, converting natural fibres into yarn and then fabric.

The municipality of Pau Grande in the district of Vila Inhomirim 50km outside Rio de Janeiro already had a small railway line. It had been constructed by the English engineer William Bragge in 1853 and connected Raiz da Serra and the Imperial City of Petrópolis with the wharf in the small port of Mauá at the mouth of the Rio Inhomirim. This railway provided a reliable form of transport from the mill to the coast.

The Francisco dos Santos family were descendants of the Fulniô Indians, who after being ousted from their coastal homeland by the Portuguese had settled in Águas Belas, a municipality close to the Rio Ipanema. Although they had finally been hounded down near Quebrangulo and forced to take the surname of their oppressor these ‘people of the river and stones’ refused to bow to outside discipline. As their traditional lifestyle was eroded some of their number assimilated with renegade black slaves in the quilombo hideouts of the Brazilian outback.

Manuel Francisco dos Santos was the first to travel the 2000km from the tribal homelands to the boomtown dominated by the mill owned by the América Fabril company. Although the landscape bore similarities with the countryside on the borders of the states of Alagoas and Pernambuco from where he had travelled, Pau Grande itself more closely resembled Delph or Saddleworth on the Pennine ridge.

The several hundred labourers had come from all over Brazil but the mill managers were exclusively English. In return for the privileges of secure employment and accommodation the predominantly illiterate mill workers were obliged to comply with the strict discipline and moral code of the British Empire. Mr Hall, the manager, would sometimes deal with misdemeanours that had occurred outside the factory by administering a caning to the miscreant. Mr Smith, the director, emphasised the virtues of hard work and self discipline and encouraged football on the premise of ‘healthy body, healthy mind’.

On 28 October 1933 Manuel’s brother Amaro dos Santos, who worked at América Fabril as a security guard, became a father for the fifth time. The midwife was the first to notice that the baby boy’s left leg bent out and the right turned in. Manuel Francisco dos Santos had to grow up fast and his love of trapping and caging birds led his older sister Rosa to nickname him Garrincha. In his school reports he was described as quiet but mischievous and impulsive and his teachers considered him uneducable. For the young Mané by far the best thing about Pau Grande was a secluded potholed stretch of grass 60m by 40m high on a bluff that overlooked the factory. There were days when he would return two or three times for peladas [kickabouts]. Barefooted and dressed only in shorts Garrincha and a couple of mates would regularly thrash older opponents. His hunting spear was the ball and his prey lay nestled in the back of the net guarded by a goalkeeper. When he was not running with the ball he would be fishing or hunting with his friends Pincel and Swing, two brothers from the neighbouring Raiz de Serra.

His first job, at 14, was in the cotton room of the mill with its blistering heat, lung-damaging dust and deafening machines. The air had to be kept hot and humid in this the most unpleasant working environment of the factory to prevent the thread from breaking. He was always going absent, often to drink cachaça in a local bar or have sex with the mill girls at the back of the small football stadium belonging to SC Pau Grande, which had been founded in 1908 by workers from the factory. His employers soon gave up any hope of getting a decent day’s work out of him and it was only his footballing deftness that saved him from the sack. With Garrincha in SC Pau Grande’s side the factory team went two years without a defeat.

The coach likened Garrincha to Saci, the pipe-smoking mulatto imp whose spellbinding one-legged footwork created whirlwinds of chaos wherever he went. It was impossible to outrun Saci, who could make himself disappear at will. Sometimes he would transform into Matita Pereira, an elusive bird whose melancholic song seemed to come from nowhere. The only way to placate this legendary trickster was to leave him a bottle of cachaça.

Eventually Garrincha’s dazzling dribbles came to the attention of scouts from Rio de Janeiro and he was offered trials for the big clubs. He arrived at Vasco da Gama’s São Januário ground without boots, turned up late for a trial with São Cristóvão and when asked to stay overnight by Fluminense feared for his job and returned on the last train home. His insouciance counted heavily against him. Eventually a supporter and scout from Botafogo, a modest football and regatta club, but one that had a strong journalistic and intellectual following, dragged SC Pau Grande’s number 7 back to the capital.

On clapping eyes on Garrincha, the Botafogo coach Gentil Cardoso is said to have muttered, “Now they’re bringing cripples to me.” He then asked the young bumpkin, “How do you play, son?” to which Garrincha replied, “With boots!” After watching him kick a ball around Cardoso had seen enough to throw Garrincha into the first-team squad’s practice match. After the game the Brazil left-back Nílton Santos, who had been nutmegged for the first time in his career by the upstart, is said to have told Cardoso that the boy was a monster and should be signed on the spot if only to prevent him being snapped up by one of their rivals. The Rio press enthusiastically heralded Garrincha’s signing as a professional footballer in 1953. Their only criticism was “the boy dribbles too much.”

In Sweden in 1958, Garrincha was the best in the world in his position. Four years later in Chile he was the finest player in the world. After he had been officially announced as the player of the tournament, the poet Vinicius de Moraes composed the sonnet 'O Anjo das Pernas Tortas' [The Angel with Twisted Legs]:

'Didi passes and Garrincha advances

Observing intently the leather glued to his foot

He dribbles once, then again, then rests

Measuring the moment to attack

Then by second nature he launches forward

Faster than the speed of thought.'

In his June 1962 article “O Escrete de Loucos” [The Squad of Madmen] published in Fatos & Fotos, Nelson Rodrigues, the great Brazilian cronista reported that the European squads had been working on strategies to stop Garrincha but had not taken into account that the Brazilian team was a phenomenon made up of pranksters who played the game from the soul. In the last minutes of the final against Czechoslovakia, Garrincha had turned the opposition to stone. One defender even put his hands on his hips in total capitulation. Regarding the earlier 3-1 victory against England in the quarter-final, Rodrigues wrote, “The Englishman plays football whereas the Brazilian lives and suffers every move.”

Garrincha fathered fourteen children by five different women. One of them, Ulf, was born after the 1958 World Cup final and grew up in Sweden. Garrincha had a lengthy and tempestuous relationship with the samba diva Elza Soares. He drank heavily and was responsible for the death of his mother-in-law in a car accident where he was drunk behind the wheel. When he finally hung up his boots, after a brief comeback with the small Rio club Olaria in 1972, he faded into oblivion. One of his last public appearances was at the carnival in Rio de Janeiro. The shots of his hunched bloated figure sitting alone on the front of the Mangueira samba school float saddened the nation.

Following Garrincha’s death from the complications of alcoholism on 20 January 1983, Hamilton Pereira da Silva, a poet and a politician from Tocantins, composed Requiem for an Angel:

They stood in the cortege

And offered him wings

Multicoloured wings

Vermilion, white

Chocolate

Grey

Hang gliding on the wing

For you who lived as an angel for so many years

These wings would have been meaningless

Before the eyes of the people

In the magical glow

Of those Sunday afternoons…

Two days after the announcement of Garrincha’s death, the poet Carlos Drummond de Andrade published an article entitled “Mané and the Dream” in the Jornal do Brasil in which he declared that football had become a panacea for Brazil’s sickness. Garrincha had been a reluctant hero who had temporarily banished the nation’s inferiority complex and inspired the have-nots to greater things, He pleaded for another Garrincha to rekindle the nation’s dreams: “The god that rules football is sardonic and insincere. Garrincha was one of his envoys, delegated to make a mockery of everything and everyone in his stadiums. The god of football is also cruel because he concealed from Garrincha the faculty to realise his mission as a divine agent.”

In his imagined chronicle Diario do Tarde Paulo Mendes Campos wrote that the rules of Association Football did not apply when Garrincha was on the pitch. The pushes, trips and shoves against him went unpunished and it was only when the embarrassed defender fearful of ridicule by the crowd pulled at his shirt that the complicit referee would be reluctantly forced to award a foul.

Despite these chansons de geste by Brazil’s greatest living writers and poets, the truth of the matter was that Seu Mané’s trickery defied literary description. Football was not an art. Garrincha had held a mirror up to the nation.

His body was taken from the clinic in Botafogo to the Maracanã stadium. Nílton Santos insisted that his teammate be buried in Pau Grande and not in the new mausoleum for professional footballers in the Jardim da Saudade. Traffic came to a halt on the Avenida Brasil as the cortège passed by with mourners crowding the sides of the road and others throwing flowers from the overhead bridges. “Garrincha you made the world smile and now you make it cry” had been daubed on a tree. As the mayhem of cars finally approached Pau Grande the bottleneck became so great that people were forced to abandon their vehicles and walk to the little church.

Seu Mané had played the game for its own sake. His fancy footwork, element of surprise and capacity for improvisation had nourished the nation’s soul. A memorial stone was placed in the cemetery. Its inscription read, “He was a sweet child. He spoke with the birds.” Tostão, his teammate, would write on the 20th anniversary of Mané’s death, “Garrincha was much more than a dribbler, a ballet dancer and a showman, he was a star.”

My sentimental quest begins at the Botafogo Sports and Regatta Club on Avenida Venceslau Brás. It’s now used mainly by the young socios (members) to play volleyball and basketball. A picture of Nílton Santos in the entrance reminds the club of its glory years. His black and white striped shirt with its lone star hangs in a display case next to the trophy cabinet.

When Garrincha played for Botafogo de Futebol e Regatas it was a deeply superstitious club. The day before the game a mass communion with eggnog, milk and biscuits would took place and on match day the club’s silk curtains were tied up to symbolise the ensnarement of the opponents’ legs. An hour before the game each player was compelled to take a mud bath and eat three apples. An ex-Fluminense player had to be included in every team. Before each game a stray mongrel called Biriba would piss on the leg of a player. When things were going badly for the team the Botafogo president would release the little dog from the stand to run onto the pitch and distract the opposition. Biriba became so important at the club that he was included in one of Botafogo’s championship winning team photographs.

I set off past the Aterro do Flamengo with its fenced playgrounds full of youths playing football, I look over at the Marina da Glória with the mist-topped Sugar Loaf in the background, heading for Praça Quinze where the boats come in from Niterói. Out in the bay the Ilha das Cobras is surrounded by frigates. I drive fast on the Linha Vermelha heading north in the direction of Galeão. To my left is the vast sprawl of the Complexo do Alemão favela, the Instituto Oswaldo Cruz and the toy-town church of Nossa Senhora da Penha perched on its sacred mount. I reach the artificial brine lake designed to deter the favelados from hanging around the beaches of the Zona Sur and then drive north towards the Federal University Hospital block where I had lectured the day before. A nauseating smell of sewage fills the air. I head north-east through the teeming run-down districts of Baixada Fluminense, which are full of old trucks, new schools and stray dogs.

In Casa-Grande & Senzala [The Master and the Slaves], Gilberto Freyre uses the term bagaceira – the shed where the dry pulpy residue left after the extraction of sugar is stored – as a metonym for the exploitative plantation culture. Freyre wrote that “Brazil is sugar and sugar is the Black” and both were linked in the collective unconscious with sensuality and sexuality. Bagaceira was later used to refer generically to marginalised riff-raff. Football had provided Garrincha with an escape route from enslavement but when all the fibre had been squeezed out of him cachaça left him as bagaceira.

The municipality of Magé with its farming communities guarded by the Dedo de Deus mountain marks the official leaving of Rio de Janeiro. We turn right along a bumpy narrow road filled with buses and motorcyclists, cross the single lane railway track, go past a man on a horse and open roadside kiosks selling tyres. The people seem gentler and more approachable than in Grande Rio. At a birosca that sells buns and cachaça I stop to ask the way to Pau Grande. Chortling, the bar owner points to his groin and says, “Aqui está.” “Pau grande”, I later learned, was slang in Brazilian Portuguese for “big cock”.

After another 15 minutes drive the Estadio Mané Garrincha, the home of SC Pau Grande, comes into view, its rustic white walls and small arched entrance resemble an Andalusian village bullring. The grass is lush and samba drifts from the television in the clubhouse. The president, plump, with a Zapata moustache and dressed only in fading khaki shorts, greets me effusively. In one corner of the clubhouse are three cases of memorabilia, one filled with small trophies, the other two with crumpled newspaper cuttings and posters defining the ascent of the Little Bird. One of the pictures shows an 11-year-old Garrincha sticking out in a team of men and another his father Amaro, looking down affectionately on his young son from a small wooden veranda. In some of the group photographs there are boys who resembled my own teammates from school, pale solemn faces, straight brown hair and small chins.

The president tells me that Garrincha used to love to return to Pau Grande for a pelada with his old friends after playing at the Maracanã. Over a glass of cachaça he tells me the club are hoping to raise money to create a small museum. He also reminds me that the black and white striped SC Pau Grande strip is identical to that of Botafogo except for the star. I offer him money to buy a ball, but he refuses and we settle for just another photograph. I then walk down the cobbled road to the centre of the village where a small bust of Garrincha greets the few visitors. To its right are a series of murals illustrating how Pau Grande used to look in its prime.

América Fabril closed in 1971 and its buildings now operate as a distribution centre for mineral water but the Neo-Gothic grey and white Capela de Sant’Ana that had been overwhelmed by Botafogo supporters at Garrincha’s funeral is unchanged. A car blasting out propaganda for Sandra Garrincha, a candidate in the Magé prefectural elections, drives by, followed by a group of young girls waving flags in support of her campaign.

I ask one of the security guards at the gate of the old factory if I can have a look around. The factory looks much the same as it did in the days when it produced cloth. The chimneystack is still standing but there are now vast empty spaces giving parts of it the appearance of a vacant exhibition space. In some of the rooms machines rumble away bottling water from the mountain springs. I thank my guide and walk back into the village in the direction of the lemon bungalow which the Brazilian football federation had bought Garrincha for his part in the World Cup victory in Chile in 1962. Two of Garrincha’s friendly grandnieces are standing on the veranda talking to a young man astride his bicycle. Grilles guard the windows of the house even though I am told there is still next to no crime in Pau Grande. There is a mural of Garrincha’s head in his playing days at the front door and on the wall of the house looking onto the street is written the legendary number 7 he carried on his back and the words “jogando certo com as pernas tortas” [playing straight with twisted legs]. One of the girls invites me to enter a small shrine at the side of the house. Among the photographs and medallions is a framed tribute fastened on one of the walls:

'Garrinchando

'Garrincha pretends that he despises the ball, but she knew he would always come back to pick her up.

The dribble was his courtship.

Garrincha, you passed through life, overcoming all obstacles that were put before you. But in the end that relentless adversary Death defeated your dribble.

From that moment on the ball and the football universe became orphans of the most blessed contorted legs football has ever known.'

Pau Grande is still full of gente boa. Doors do not need to be locked at night. Round the corner from Garrincha’s old house an elderly man tells me that the former mill town is still full of Garrincha’s ancestors. He then leads me up a path behind the houses that reminds me of the Brackenwood edgeland of my childhood, full of weeds, plastic bottles and butterflies. After a short walk up a steep incline we reach an empty white outhouse with two palomino horses tied up outside. 20 metres below the high bank is a clearing strewn with twigs and leaves. At either end are goal posts without nets. I climb down and start to run close to the right edge where patches of grass grow sheltered by overhanging trees. I pause. I then sidestep to the right and accelerate. I twist round with my back to the goal, shimmy and shoot. I feel free. When I can fly no more I sit on a bench behind the far goalposts. Once I have gained my breath I rise and walk to the edge of the ridge and look down on the mill, the little chapel and the orderly rows of houses.

An hour later I drive on up to the cemetery at Raiz da Serra. As I am parking the car, a skeletal drunk in shorts, sandals and a fading orange shirt staggers out of the Encontro dos Amigos bar offering to guide me to Garrincha’s grave. He tells me that the previous Friday three Vasco da Gama players had made the pilgrimage from Rio to pray for inspiration before their game against Flamengo. Tucked away in the middle of a row of closely packed tombstones I am shown a faded inscription, which says “Here lies the man who was the happiness of the people Mané Garrincha.” On the worn headstone his date of death is recorded incorrectly as 20 January 1985. There are no flowers or graffiti. A singer and friend Agnaldo Timóteo had paid for the funeral, the tombstone had been paid for by his captain Nílton Santos and a local family called Rogonisky had allowed Garrincha’s remains to be buried in the same grave as their 10-year-old son who had been killed in a road traffic accident.

I then climb up to look at the newer but equally stark and neglected obelisk. Written on a memorial tablet are the words:

'Garrincha

The Happiness of Pau Grande

The Happiness of Magé

The Happiness of Brazil

The Happiness of the World.'

As I sit in silence in this deserted cemetery I think that it could only have been my great-grandfathers’ deep loyalty to street, neighbourhood and even mill that prevented them packing their bags during the slump. It was in towns like Oldham that association football first changed from a game played by gentlemen into a profitable attractive Saturday afternoon spectator sport. As I sit by Garrincha’s grave I see their familiar faces under their flat caps, their trunks bent over by the damp and onerous labour, hurrying past the smokestacks and rows of terraced houses to Boundary Park. The Latics were yet another stabilising devotion that stopped them sailing down to Rio on a Lamport and Holt steamer.

Football has been hijacked by television money and sponsorship deals. It was now much more of a spectacle but had fewer magic moments. Running fast with the ball glued to your toes was high risk and was decried by millionaire coaches. Wingers like Garrincha (outside rights and lefts) had been replaced by a new breed of wing-backs that could attack and defend. Power and victory were what counted these days.

A small brown wren-like bird with a large cocked-up tail, sharp beak and shiny black cap flits under a neighbouring headstone and interrupts my litany of regrets. Dusk is falling and with a heavy heart I leave through the dark forests on the steep ascent to Petrópolis. I am now certain that when I have started to dribble my lines, when I can no longer remember my date of birth or the names of my children the alchemist will still be around beckoning me to come and join him for a pedala in the clearing above the cotton mill.

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dailytomlinson · 3 years

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2020 is finally coming to an end, and we can’t say we’re disappointed about it. It sure has been a long way for everyone, yet some artists had a lot on their plate. Take a look at Louis Tomlinson’s year. As complicated as 2020 has been for him, he still unlocked achievements and outdid himself in the best way. So let’s take a look at how Louis Tomlinson made 2020 his year, let’s go!

Louis Tomlinson Released His Debut Solo Album Walls

After four years of anticipation, and a good two years of teasing, Louis released his debut album, Walls, on January 31st. The record received positive critics and fantastic feedback from his loyal Louies. From the party anthem ‘Kill My Mind’ to the emotional ‘Two Of Us’, with a few sweet escapes such as ‘Too Young’, not to mention the punchy ‘Always You’, the album brought the fans everything they had hoped for. In addition to that, Louis stole our hearts with heartfelt and sincere lyrics that only he has the secret of. Magic.

Louis Started His Worldwide Tour And Gave His First Solo Show

Louis started his worldwide tour in March before it got interrupted. Touring was what he had always been looking forward to, ever since he’d decided to start a solo career. Louis had expressed the exciting feeling and positive stress that he feels right before going on stage. Luckily enough, he had the time to perform twice in Spain at the beginning of March. His first whole solo show took place at Razzmatazz, in Barcelona, and reunited around 2000 fans (sold out). An hour and a half of musical bliss, a performer who shares a lot with his fans, and an incredibly talented band. What else?

Walls Went Number #1 In 53 Countries And Worldwide Upon Release

Louis Tomlinson made 2020 his year in the charts too. He always had a dedicated fandom, and that’s no surprise. However, he seemingly wasn’t expecting the global success of his debut album Walls. Indeed, it went number #1 on iTunes in 53 countries upon its release on January 31st, including the United Kingdom and the major part of South America. Not only that, but the album also climbed the iTunes Worldwide Chart to reach #1 in a matter of hours. Legends only.

Louis Released The Music Video for ‘Walls’, And It’s A Masterpiece

January 16th revealed the final single off Walls, the album, which was none other than the title track itself. Louis described it then as his proudest song on the album, with strong influences of Oasis. A few days later, on the 21st, Louis blessed us with the music video, shot in Morocco by Charlie Ligthening. The camera follows Louis through the Sahara desert and traces his path through a ballroom and dancing crowds. Some other scenes show him surrounded by masked people, or behind four silhouettes that he identified as his four former bandmates. The Easter eggs, the quality of the video, and the suit (yes, the suit, don’t you lie) made it a fans’ favorite, for it now counts more than 12 Million views.

Louis Reached 1.4 Billion Streams on Spotify

It looks like the fans’ streaming parties paid off this year. With only one album, four other songs, and remixes or edits, Louis reached the milestone of 1.4 Billion streams on Spotify this year. Additionally, he also made it to 4 Million followers on the platform. The numbers speak for themselves, and the achievement is huge for an artist who only received little promotion for a debut album, stopped on its way due to the pandemic. Here’s to his first billion, and some more soon! Overall, Louis knows he can count on his devoted Louies to increase the number of streams significantly with new challenges, the way they did it in December with #12DaysOfWalls. (Original idea by @miss_always_you).

He Launched Only The Poets Internationally

If you’re a Louie, there are big chances that this name rings a bell. Only The Poets, a band coming from Reading in the UK, literally skyrocketed this year. After their first performance as Louis’ first act on stage at Scala in February 2020, their popularity started increasing. And Louis confirming them as his first European act only made it better for them. They continued their year with live-streams, private Zoom calls, and pre-listening sessions of their singles with fans. They ended it with a social distanced show in Banbury and a Zoom Tour in a few European countries and South America. And the mutual support Louis and these lads give each other is heartwarming.

Louis Decided To Part Ways With Syco

This one is for the fans. After ten years of collaboration with Sony’s label, Syco, Louis decided to part ways with them for a new adventure. He officially announced his decision with a tweet on July 11th that took no time to break the Internet. Soon enough, hashtags related to the news trended around Twitter, other artists, and radios congratulated him on his decision. Louies celebrated with funny memes and GIFs but made sure to surround Louis with love and support through it all. Now we wait (for the new label announcement).

Louis Didn’t Only Postpone His Tour, He Made It Bigger

Another proof that Louis Tomlinson made 2020 better. Not only did Louis pursue his dream and goal to tour, but he also grew it out. After postponing the tour three times, the newly announced European dates include a few more stops, including Reykjavik (Iceland), Warsaw (Poland), Prag (Czech Republic), Vienna (Austria), Zurich (Switzerland), and an additional date in Paris (France)! The shows sold out in less than 40 minutes, making it more than 15,000 tickets purchased. Due to the high demand in Zurich, the venue changed and 500 more tickets went on sale! In Argentina, a wild mobilization of fans on Twitter led him to open the whole Movistar Arena in Buenos Aires. Some additional tickets went on sale for the Chilean show as well. And guess what? They all sold out.

Louis Was Crowned Artist Of The Summer With 13 Million Votes

Still, doubting that Louis Tomlinson made 2020 his year? A radio station from Philadelphia, @965TDY, launched a Twitter award ceremony last summer to crown an artist ‘Artist Of The Summer’. Many polls, 13 Million votes, and 26 Billion points later, Louis was elected and was all over Twitter thanking his fans for their dedication. Louies had acquired the absolute record of 26 Billion points thanks to their votes on the radio station’s website, and thanks to their mass voting parties. Another proof that Louis and his fans are unstoppable altogether. The support is always undeniably strong, and so is the bond between the artist and the fans. Happy days.

Walls Magically Rises On The Itunes Charts In October

Indeed, nine months after its release, a new wave of fans bought the album on iTunes and made it rise in the charts. The magic truly happened after @UpdateHLD (a Twitter update account), reminded new fans to purchase the album if they had not already. Considering Louis gained a certain amount of fans during the global lockdown, the initiative went successful, and soon enough, Walls was climbing the charts just like it did on January 31st. As incredible as it seems, it even received its first #1 on the USA iTunes chart. Louis didn’t miss on thanking his fans for their continuous support, expressing how amazed he was by the chart climb.

Louis Offered An Online Live-Stream Show, #LTLivestream

Early December, Louis announced his first live-stream show from London for December 12th, entitled #LTLivestream. He promised a very special show, hosted by the platform Veeps, and didn’t lie. The general sale for the tickets (of course) crashed the website, making everyone panic. Louis then confirmed that the tickets were unlimited. The show was as incredible as originally announced, with an orchestra, fans participating through a digital wall, and a new haircut that conquered the fans. The numbers later revealed that Louis had sold over 160,000 tickets. #LTLivestream is the most sold live-stream for a male solo artist in 2020. Being the generous philanthropist that Louis is, he has given the $2.8 Million raised to many charities and his touring crew. The charities benefitting from the funds are FareShare UK, StageHand, Crew Nation, and Bluebell Wood. And they wonder why we love him.

Louis Surprised His Fans With A New Song Called ‘Copy Of A Copy Of A Copy’

Last but not least, after spending a year on a rollercoaster, Louis revealed a brand new song during #LTLivestream. He had been hinting at it through a teaser for the live-stream and via a cryptic tweet that made everyone think he was referring to ‘Copy Of A’ by Nine Inch Nails. However, he proved everyone wrong during the show with a brand new song. ‘Copy Of A Copy Of A Copy’ reminds us of the general sound of ‘Walls’ (the single), and stole everyone’s heart and soul once again. Immediately after the show, the fans asked Louis when the single would be out, to which he replied that he wasn’t sure about it being one. The disappointment faded away when he said it remained an option and would put it on the second album. We’ll take that.

And that, folks, is how Louis Tomlinson made 2020 his year for us! We have so many memories of Louis this year and can’t pick a favorite! What would be yours? And what do you think is yet to come from Louis next year?

#the honey pop #long post #press #2020 #louis tomlinson #291220

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luimagines · 3 years

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Date Night with The Chain Part 2!

Masterlist

Part 1

Part two will include Four, Wild and Time!

Content under the cut!

Four

A sigh leaves your lips as you finally sit down after a long day.

There was a large stone jutting off of the side of a cliff where your group had decided to camp for the night. It had a high vantage point and the entrance was hidden by the surrounding foliage, making it a cozy secluded resting spot for ten weary travelers.

Your feet sighed with relief with the weight off of the them and you began to kick them back and forth. After some moment to yourself you pull your legs in and take off your shoes.

You resume kicking your feet into the wind, more relieved than you were before without shame.

“Rupee for your thoughts, my darling?” You hear him come up from behind.

“No thoughts, head empty.” You snort and glance over your shoulder. “Join me?”

Four has his hands on his hips as he stands there, watching you with a calm smile and hearts in his eyes. “If you’d have me.”

“As if I could ever turn you away.” You look back out into the distance, pointedly ignoring the commotion of Legend tackling Warrior in the background.

Four doesn’t even try to hide his laughter when he sees what’s happened but comes to sit by your side regardless of what is happening with the others.

You watch him as he lowers himself down and are only marginally confused when he shifts to sit on his hip instead- oh no wait- Four leans over after shifting his body around to place his head directly into your lap.

You grin and waste no time in running your fingers through his hair, taking his hairband out and letting it all fall across your legs. “Comfortable?”

“Best spot, hands down.” Four snuggles a little close and turns his head to look beyond what the rock has to offer.

The sun has begun to set and even if your friends are busy losing their minds in the background it surprisingly easy to tune them out with Four by your side. As the sky turns from blue to orange and reds with the feint outline of purple at the top, you and Four watch the day end with gentle smiles on your faces.

On a whim you begin to braid his hair, letting them collect in number even if it’s messy and unorganized.

“Having fun?” Four sighs and pokes your knee a little.

“Yes.”

“Good... Feels nice.”

You can’t help but grin to yourself and wait a minute before undoing it all and starting over with more purpose in mind. “I wish I had flowers or feathers or something... Maybe some ribbon... Make it look pretty and stuff.”

“And stuff?”

“And stuff.”

“Why not use my head band?”

“It’s too big and if I’m going to use ribbon it should be made out of silk or satin, only the highest quality of materials for my love.” You say and lean over to give him a kiss on his forehead.

“I don’t think it’s necessary.” Four raises an eyebrow and you can see that he’s on the cusp of falling asleep.

Everyone is tired.

“Maybe not but I say you deserve it, so it must be so.”

“I love you.” Four mumbles sleepily and you know that a this point if someone were to wake him up he’d be grumpy until the next morning.

“I love you too.” You smile and let him sleep against you.

The sun sets and it’s nice.

Wild

“Do you need any help?” You walk up to Wild as he’s beginning to take out whatever ingredients needed to get dinner started.

You stand a little ways behind him and wait for him to turn around. He pauses from arranging the vegetables and glances over his shoulder to look at you.

You smile as pleasantly as you can and laced your fingers together behind your back, trying to look at innocent as possible, trying to visually butter him up to let you help him.

Wild knows what you’re doing. You do this every time.

And every time he melts a little on the inside at your genuine joy and want to help him out. Not to mention that he thinks it’s cute and would give you his everything in a heartbeat before you could even ask.

“Of course you can help.” He grins and stands up. “I have to check the fire but do you think you can peel the potatoes and carrots for me please.”

“Sure!” You skip ahead and take his spot, picking up the peeler he left out and begin to get to work.

“Thank you.” Wild smiles as he turns away again, picking the fire and checking the temperature.

“You’re welcome.”

“If you could cut them too, that would be nice.”

“Are you asking me to?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

Wild smiles to himself at the exchange. The others are minding their own business, tending to their weapons or licking their wounds from the day and just simply hanging out with people who know what it’s like to be the hero more than any one in the history of Hyrule.

It’s nice.

Domestic even.

You start to hum a little tune that must be from your home because it seems like no one else can recognize it. It’s light and a little sappy if the way you’re swaying your head has anything to say about it.

Wild feels himself fall a little more in love with you, even if you’re not looking at him.

He’s been done with checking the fire for five minutes, but he doesn’t want you to stop for the sake of answering him again.

But he should probably start cooking the meat while the vegetables are being prepared.

Wild slides over to your side and picks up the Shekah Slate from where he left it. He chances a glance at you and thinks... it’ll be a last minute change to the meal he’s prepared in his head, but maybe he’ll cook your favorite tonight instead.

You deserve it.

“Ok, what else Master Chef?” You look his way and blink, instantly going a little red in the face. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just love you is all.” Wild leans in and kisses your forehead, snagging the cutting board from under you and spinning around to throw them into the pot.

“Hey...” You pout, trying to save face and failing. “That’s... not fair...”

“How is it not fair?” He laughs. “I didn’t do anything.”

“I... refuse to let you win.”

“Win what? What are you talking about?”

You step over and kiss his cheek. “You’re too good to me. And the carrots are going to burn.”

“Wha- Hey!” Wild spins back to attention and tries to save the carrots from the hot metal. “Ok- I- Hold up!”

“Do you want me to start cutting up the green beans too?” You smirk.

“This isn’t over.”

“Yes or no?”

“...”

“..Yes please.”

Time

“Ok, I know you said we were going somewhere tonight but why are we sneaking out of the inn like teenagers?” You say as Time looks around the corner.

“Shh...” Time puts a finger to hip lips as he looks back at you. “Do you really think the boys wouldn’t try to follow us if they knew?”

“Is it that important for them to not come?” You tilt your head. Sure, they were a bit rambunctious at times and a bit more rowdy than you knew what to do with but they were good kids and you loved them all- so the secrecy was a little lost on you.

“Is it so wrong to want to spend an evening alone with the one I love?” Time turns to you and takes your hands in his, lifting them to kiss your knuckles. “Just for tonight?”

The thought of being alone together hadn’t even occurred to you and it’s embarrassing to have Time basically spell it out for you. A blush blooms across your face and you bite your lip with a quick glance to your toes. It has nothing to do with the kiss, you’re sure.

“Ok.” You whisper. “Ok, I’ll be quiet. Is the coast clear?”

Time smirks when he sees your reaction, more than pleased with himself before he turns around and checks around the corner one last time.

He grins and gives you his hand, holding you gently as you creep through the hallways together. After a few twists and turns and near trips from walking on your tip toes, you make it out of inn.

You ignore the weird looks from the inn keeper as you leave. They don’t understand the length the boys would go through to spy and/or ruin this for you two intentionally or otherwise.

Time looks up to the window of one of the room you’ve rented before pushing you quickly out of its line of sight.

You follow him wordlessly and look back just in time to see Warrior lean up against the window. He’s not looking out, merely resting where the people below can see him but the thrill of not being caught shoots through you and you force yourself to act natural and look away from the inn entirely.

“What the plan, beloved?” You shoot a grin his way and skip to match his pace.

“I don’t have one. I wasn’t entirely sure we’d get this far.” Time admits and lets his child like glee show on his face.

Your heart swells when you see it. It’s not often you get to see this side of him and you’re happy to indulge him in these moments when he has them.

“We could just walk around?” You pull yourself closer to him and lean against his side. “Sight see? Shopping?”

Time lets go of your hand to instead wrap his arm around your waist and pulls you even closer so that you’re flush against him. “I’m not sure... I just wanted to spend time with you.”

“Wine tasting?” You try again, pointing to the sign outside of a small hole in the wall shop.

Time actually stops in his tracks and glances at the shop in front of you. “A brilliant idea darling. Shall we go have a look?”

“We shall.”

Together you walk into the shop despite the later hour and see couples with the similar idea and calmly sharing drinks with one another. Time breaks off from you as you wander further into the space. You glance around the sparely decorated room and glance at the various signs and bottles to see their designs. You pick up a bottle and swirl around the liquid inside, watching it rise and fall against the green colored glass.

Time comes back in seconds, glaring at one of the other persons without your knowledge when they try to make a move closer to you.

“Here.” He takes a calmly breath and hands you a glass. It’s halfway filled with a warm colored amber liquid and it piques your interest instantly.

“Thank you.” You take it and take a sip. It’s as warm as it looks and strangely smells like strawberries.

Time finally looks at you again when the person leaves and takes a sip from his own glass. It’s more crimson than you’d imagine possible and you have to wonder how it would taste. “Can I try?”

“Hm?” Time looks at the glass and back to you, handing it to you with out much thought.

He tries to it with your own but you’re faster than he is. You lean into his space on your tip toes and place a bold kiss on his lips.

They’re soft and laced with the tangy wine from his previous sip.

“Yum.” You wink and take another sip from your own wine.

Time stands there stunned before he smirks and takes you hand with the glass away before leaning down to kiss you properly. He takes it slow and holds you there for a moment despite the fact that you’re in a public space.

He pulls back just as slowly and finishes with a final kiss to your forehead.

“Can’t do that with the boys around.” He mutters to himself.

“Nope.“ You giggle and go back to sipping your wine. “But I’m not complaining.”

Part 3

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #hope I made Four's long enough #I was stop earlier and realized that compared the Wild's... it was like half the size #and all you Four simps deserve better

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xfilesfanficexchange · 2 years

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✨Trivia for “Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose”✨

- This episode won two Emmy Awards: Outstanding Guest Actor in a Drama Series (Peter Boyle), and Outstanding Writing for a Drama Series.

- Clyde Bruckman is going through evidence trying to get psychic visions. When he is holding a blue piece of cloth, he says to Mulder, "I got it! This is yours. This is from your New York Knicks t-shirt!" He was wrong. However, in Season 1's The X-Files: Beyond the Sea (1994), murderer Luther Lee Boggs claims that he gets a psychic vision from a similar blue piece of cloth, but Mulder tells him, "I tore this off my New York Knicks t-shirt. It has nothing to do with the crime."

- There is a scene where Clyde Bruckman is playing cards with Scully. The camera briefly shows his cards - the two black aces and the ace of hearts, and the two black eights. That hand is a variation on the so-called Dead Man's Hand that Wild Bill Hickok was holding when he was shot in the back of the head in 1876 while playing poker. Four of the five cards in Hickok's hand were the two black aces and the two black eights.

- Peter Boyle's character has the same name as a famous Hollywood writer and director of the 1920s - 1940s, Clyde Bruckman. He worked with many of the famous comedians of the day including Buster Keaton, W.C. Fields, Stan Laurel, and Oliver Hardy. He later fell on hard times and committed suicide in 1955.

- Each of the winning lottery numbers announced on the radio is one number off of the numbers on Clyde Bruckman's ticket.

- In 1997, the TV Guide ranked this episode number 10 on its "100 Greatest Episodes of All Time" list.

- Queequeg, Scully's adopted Pomeranian, is named for the tattooed harpooner in "Moby Dick."

- The killer is played by Stuart Charno, husband of Sara B. Cooper who wrote Season 2's The X-Files: Aubrey (1995).

- The victim found in the mud was named Claude Dukenfield, which is the original middle and last name of W.C. Fields.

- The role of Clyde Bruckman was originally written with Bob Newhart in mind.

- The character of Yappi is quite clearly a parody of the self proclaimed psychic Uri Geller. While Yappi bends pens in place of spoons. They even have a close physical resemblance.

- The names of characters Detective Havez and Detective Cline are also references to a writer and director from the silent film era, Jean C. Havez and Edward F. Cline.

- The name of the character played by Peter Boyle is the same as that of the co-writer/co-director of the Buster Keaton silent classic, The General (1926). According to his IMDb filmography, the original Clyde Bruckman (1894-1955) was a prolific screen writer and director whose career spanned over 3 decades from 1919 onward. He is also known for writing over 2 dozen The Three Stooges shorts, and after his death, the stooges incorporate his name as ad-lib dialogue in later stooge comedies.

- Series regular David Duchovny previously played husband to Patricia Heaton in the movie Beethoven (1992), and guest star Peter Boyle later played father-in-law to Heaton on the sitcom Everybody Loves Raymond (1996).

- Clyde Bruckman's telling Scully that she will not die starts the legend among some fans that Scully will not ever die in the series. Later in the series, in the episode "Tithonus (1999)," a man who cannot die exchanges Scully's death for his.

- The first time we meet Queequeg, the dog that Scully ends up adopting.

- Pay close attention when Scully scans the crowds at each murder scene. The killer appears in the crowd each time, except when the police are investigating the final psychic murder. In that scene, Scully is holding the tarot card picturing a bellhop ("The Page Of Cups") as she pulls aside the curtain to scan the crowd So even though the killer is absent from the crowd, he is still represented in the shot.

- This is the first of 3 appearances and 4 characters played by Karin Konoval, who plays the first fortune teller killed "Madame Zelda." She later plays Mrs. Peacock in the infamous season 4 episode "Home." And then 2 characters in season 11 of the revival series, siblings Little Judy and Little Chucky Poundstone

- The name of the hotel in this episode, "Le Damfino" is a reference to a boat used by Buster Keaton in the movie The Boat.

- Scully and Queequeg are watching the movie "The Bullfighters" at the end of the episode

- TV Guide's 100 Greatest Episodes of All-Time (1997) (TV Special) Ranked as #10.

- TV Guide's Top 100 Episodes of All Time (2009) (TV Special) Ranked as #35.

- WatchMojo: Top 10 X-Files Episodes (2016) (TV Episode) "Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose" is #2.

- A prime early influence on this episode was one of the series' previous episodes - "Beyond the Sea", which was Morgan's favorite episode of the series at the time of writing this one. Looking for inspiration, he rewatched the earlier episode several times. His initial intention was to write an episode that would be similarly dark and be very depressing. Morgan ended up adding jokes into the script as he simply could not help himself from doing so.

- Although this episode merely implies that Bruckman's death was probably a suicide, and does not explicitly establish that it was such (leaving open the possibility that he was referring to his own cause of death upon mentioning autoerotic asphyxiation to Mulder), Darin Morgan has since confirmed that his intention was that Bruckman did actually commit suicide at the end of this episode. The reason Morgan added this to the story was that he was feeling somewhat suicidal himself, at the time he wrote it.

- The joke about autoerotic asphyxiation developed out of Mulder's interest in erotica as well as a book about homicide investigations that Morgan had read, as the book actually included a section about autoerotic asphyxiation, a cause of death that is often misinterpreted as suicide.

- The character of the Stupendous Yappi (including the character's speech pattern) was based on Jaap Broeker, David Duchovny's stand-in.

- The episode originally included two more scenes between Clyde Bruckman and Scully, as well as many additional gags. These were filmed but removed during editing.

- During production, Anderson kept laughing whenever the crew tried to film the scene wherein Yappi closely inspects Scully, attempting to find the source of some troublesome "negative energy."

- During production, Gillian Anderson got the impression that Peter Boyle was at first unsure of what to make of the situation, but warmed up by the time they got to the scenes that both featured them together and were, as Anderson puts it, "really sweet." All in all, Anderson found Boyle to be "a lovely man to work with."

- Due to personal close calls with his own health issues, Peter Boyle had some real issues with death that influenced him to extremely dislike filming the dream scene wherein Clyde Bruckman decomposes. On the set of this scene, the discomforted Boyle remarked to Toby Lindala that having to appear in the scene represented the "worst day of [his] life."

- David Duchovny loved this episode and it was a favorite of his from the third season of The X-Files.

- The episode focuses heavily on free will and fatalistic determinism—topics that Morgan was drawn to due to his frustration with the task of plotting episode stories.

- While working on the script, Morgan realized that while Mulder is supposed to be intelligent, were he to talk to a "normal person" in real life, he would come across as paranoid or insane. The writer was thus inspired to "shake up Mulder's image" in the episode by making him fallible and foolish. This approach is illustrated by how Mulder views Bruckman "only as a phenomenon" and not as a person, whereas Scully views the titular character as a human, first and foremost.

- Morgan claimed that Bruckman knew full well how Scully would die, but decided to withhold the information simply because he liked her. However, many interpreted the line to mean that Scully could not actually die and was, in essence, immortal.

- In 2016, Ira Madison of Vulture.com named it the best episode of the series and "one of the best episodes of television ever", stating that the episode "takes every element that made the series so iconic and throws them all into one heartbreaking installment".

#x files #mulder #scully #msr #gillian anderson #david duchovny #peter boyle #season three #clyde bruckman's final repose

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thesacredtwink · 3 years

Text

A Wolf in Kings Clothing

Chapter 1

Upon returning to his Hyrule, Twilight finds his home under siege. Out of better options, he is forced to reveal one of his biggest secrets. He had really really hoped this day would never come, but before the truth can come out, everyone is going to have to get real cool about a few things real fast.

Or Gerudo!Twilight is the reluctant King of the desert peoples. Too bad he forgot to mention that to literally anyone in the Chain.

---

Looking out at Hyrule Field, Twilight doesn't like what he sees. Monsters, their numbers larger then the ranch hand has ever seen before, sit camped in the grassy area. From his place atop a ridge between Kakariko settlement and the open area, the Ordonian can smell the smoke from the countless fires the beasts have made to stave off the chill of the night.

Beside him, Wind swears, words far more vulgar than any thirteen year old should know slipping softly into the night. Despite the choice of language, Twilight cant help but agree with the sentiment.

"Have you ever seen something like this?" Time asks, the one-eyed hero's voice quiet in the dark.

Twilight shakes his head.

"No. Hyrule Field has always been a hot spot for monster activity - ambushes, the sporadic raid. It was worse during my journey, but nothing like this. This almost looks like-"

"An invasion." Warriors finishes with grim certainty.

"Do you think Dusk knows?" Hyrule asks from the back of the group where he and Wild stand guard.

Thinking about his era's Zelda, Twilight would be surprised if the Princess didn't know.

"Probably," he says after a moment.

"That's not the same thing as a yes," Legend points out.

"You could send her a letter?" Four suggests, creeping forwards to look down at the field and collective monsters. "Though," they say after a moment, "I'm not sure if any postman would be willing to try to get through that."

The rancher looks back down at the horde below them and considers some of the uncanny and downright dangerous places the postman had delivered letters to in the course of his journey, and concludes at the odds of successfully getting a letter to Dusk are, at worst, 50/50.

"It's worth a shot."

"And then what?" Warriors asks. "She gets the letter, warning her about something she most likely already knows about, and we- what? Fight our way to her?" The Captain points to the fires dotting Hyrule Field. "That's an army, and Dusk has an army of her own. If her forces haven't been able to push theirs back at least a little bit, then the nine of us -skilled fighters though we are- will not make the difference."

Before sour despair brought on by the Captain's frank assessment can take root in the ranchers stomach, Time places a hand on Twilights shoulder.

"We're getting ahead of ourselves. Lets write that letter first, then we can worry when the time comes."

Looking up at his ancestor, Twilight nods and the chain of heroes begins the slow walk back to Kakariko village.

The town, as usual, is mostly deserted and made to feel even more empty by the late hour that they arrive. But the inn has room, and when the Ordonian descends the stairs -letter in hand- the woman behind the counter is happy to point him in the direction of the postman. When he finally pulls his boots off and collapses into bed, the letter handed off to an almost worryingly determined postman after hearing the indented recipient, Twilight falls asleep almost instantly.

The sun beats down against his neck, harsh in a way that no other place in Hyrule can match on even the clearest summer days. All around him, the desert sands stretch out in an unforgiving golden ocean, and underfoot the surface makes him fight for every step. It is not a place for fragile things or easy comforts, but in spite of the sound of shattering glass and gutting heart ache that the wind sweeps across the sand, there is also the strange sense of home.

Between one step and the next, an oasis appears, and Twilight gladly crosses the distance and sinks his hands into the clear water, relishing the coolness when he raises his cupped palms and drinks his fill.

"You are back," a heavily accented voice says from behind him, and Twilight turns to face a woman with dark skin and fiery hair, the likes of which he had never seen on another person besides himself until his first time in the desert.

He takes her in; the hook of her nose and the single piercing that adorns a nostril, and large golden eyes set under prominent red brows. The desert is not a place for delicate things, and her wide shoulders and towering height are testament to that fact. She is like the desert itself, will make him fight for every step he may take against her, and inexplicably reminiscent of home.

Twilight blinks up at her, and her green painted lips pull into a smile.

"You have been gone for a long time. Something has come again to our land that does not belong." She narrows her eyes and tilts her head, smile growing sharp as her eyes rake over the ranchers form. "But you already know that."

She shakes her head and sighs deeply, lowering herself to the oasis edge, gazing out at where a sandstorm rages. In its swirling depths, lightning cracks, illuminating hulking shadows that twist and jump like beasts in battle.

"It is different this time. You have gone alone to places not even the sun can see, but one grain is not a storm," she says after a moment, "It is your desert, and her sands are yours to command. But will you, I wonder?"

She looks at him, deep and observing, and for the first time Twilight is aware that he is expected to respond. He clears his throat and the words spring to his lips without thought.

"Where do do I find them?"

The woman beams, his question apparently the right one to say.

"You know where," she laughs. "Come find you grains of sand, my Chief. Your storm will be waiting."

He opens his mouth to respond, when a loud crash makes him jump. Twilight rolls off his bed in a tangle of sheets, landing on the floor with a thump. In the dim light of morning, Hyrule apologizes for the noise and twilight slowly extracts himself from the bedding, all the while wondering what exactly his dream was about.

After a quick breakfast, Twilight concedes to a brief tour of the village. It is a subdued affair, in part because of the general state of the town - the combination of people lost and of those who fled and have yet to return apparent with every still boarded building. Some have made a come back, and its good to see the planks of wood taken down and doors thrown open again, but it still makes for a sobering sight. But even the state of the village on it's own isn't enough to claim the full cause of the usually rambunctious groups quiet air. The memory of the fires that littered Hyrule Field looms large in all of their minds.

Afterwards, the group splits up - some off to explore the hops, while an handful of the others decide to go back to the inn and hot spring. Time and Warriors, not content to spend time idle, make their way to Renado, hoping the elder might be able to provide some information.

Twilight means to join them, really he does, but when he gets to the round house at the front of the village his feet carry him past it and to the spring of light. The memory of his dream swirls round his mind, and the longer he thinks over it, the less certain he becomes. He doesn't notice that another person has joined him in the shallows until a hand ruffles his hair. The rancher starts at the contact, glaring as Sky once his heart returns to normal and combs his red locks back into place with his fingers. Sky smiles back, unabashed.

"Rupee for your thoughts?" the Skyloftian asks, and Twilight sighs.

"A rupee might not be enough, and you don't have that kind of money."

"Maybe not, but I am a good listener."

Looking down at the water, the rancher's reflection stares back at him; blue eyes and red hair highlight his troubled face. After a few moments, Twilight speaks.

"What worries you more, a dream you don't understand or the dream that you do?"

Beside him, Sky goes still and Twilight looks over at his friend. After a few moments, the knight responds slowly.

"It would depend on the dream."

After a second of consideration, Twilight laughs softly.

"That's fair,"

Sky relaxes slightly, bending over to retrieve a stone from the water.

"So, you had a dream?" the blonde asks casually.

"Yeah, and I can't figure out if it makes perfect sense or none at all."

Sky runs his thumb over the stone in his hand.

"Its been my experience that if it feels important, it probably is."

"That's what I'm afraid of,"

The two lapse into silence, the sound of the spring filling the air. It's peaceful, and surrounded by the calm water, Twilight is able to put his thoughts away for a moment.

"HEEEY!!!"

The sound pierces the quiet, and Sky and Twilight turn towards the main road. There, his flag torn and the white uniform spattered with dirt and other stains, jogs the Postman. He runs up to Twilight. Up close, the Ordonian spots a missing tooth when the man grins and hands over a pristine envelope. The Rancher takes the letter with wide eyes, unable to look away from the man before him and the two arrows sticking out of his cap. The longer he looks, the less he wants to know how some of the stains found their way onto the delivery man.

At a loss for anything better to say, Twilight stammers out the first thing that comes to mind.

"That was fast,"

"I take my job seriously," the Postman says with pride, puffing up his chest. "Do you need anything else delivered?"

"No, that was it." Sky chokes out, voice strained.

"Then I am off!"

With that declaration, the Postman touches hid fingers to the brim of his shako in a brusque salute, and turns away at a jog back down the road. The two heroes watch him go until he is out of sight, before turning to look at each other.

"I guess Dusk got your letter."

"Yeah," Twilight agrees, turning the Princesses response over in his hands. "I just wonder what she has to say."

#gerudo!twilight #gerudo twilight au #gerudo twilight #twilight linked universe #humor #linkeduniverse #linked universe #sky linked universe #twilight princess postman #Whooooo!!! Chapter 1 is UP!#i am not going to tag everyone just assume all of the chain is in this #linked universe fanfic #fanfiction #my writing

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fatefulfaerie · 3 years

Text

Broken Bones

Febuwhump prompt #16/28

Franchise: The Legend of Zelda University AU by @snickerduu (I promise this is the last one)

Word Count: 1,041

Zelda tread down the bleachers as her footsteps made that familiar clinking sound. She regretted having to go to the bathroom right in the middle of the big game, but she just couldn’t hold it anymore.

“What’d I miss?” She asked as she sat back down in her seat, taking the long strap of her purse off her shoulder.

“Not much,” said the stranger beside her. Despite the two sitting next to each other almost half the game now, those were the first words spoken to each other. “Necluda Knights lead Tabantha Eagles 2 to 1. There’s still time to catch up, though.”

Zelda smiled, giving a slight chuckle.

“You’re a Tabantha student, aren’t you?”

If their eyes weren’t glued to the baseball field below them, they would have looked at each other as they conversed.

“You aren’t?” The stranger beside her asked.

“Nope,” Zelda explained. “I’m a senior at HSU Necluda. My boyfriend of four years is number five.” Zelda pointed her finger at a distant person who currently guarded third base. “Right there.”

“I see,” the stranger said.

A new silence hung over them as an Eagle athlete stepped up to the plate, preparing to swing the wooden bat in his hands with bent knees and loose hips, eyeing the pitcher who stared him down similarly.

The announcer said a name Zelda didn’t recognize or care to listen to as she watched intently. Before she met Link, she wasn’t into sports at all, and really she still wasn’t. Yet, she was invested in not only Link’s safety but also in his interests and thus, despite her worry for his danger, she had gone to almost every one of his various games. Besides, Link had proved himself a capable athlete.

The pitcher threw the ball with a high leg behind him, which was almost immediately hit by the batter, soaring through the air and starting to land where the people at first and second base had to run to catch it.

But, by the time they did, the batter had already passed first and was about to turn to second. The ball was thrown to Link after the batter had already passed second, and just as he neared third.

The batter hurtled full-force into Link, who had run to him slightly to ensure that the ball touched him and thus he would be given a strike. Yet, the weight of the batter was bit more than Link could handle, and they both tumbled to the ground rather ungracefully.

Link felt as if his ears were ringing, the wind knocked out of him where he lay disoriented. Pain radiated from a lot of different places in his body and yet he couldn’t quite place the most prevalent place until he stood up.

Zelda breathed a sigh of relief when Link did stand up, but her brow soon furrowed when he winced trying to put weight on his left leg. Link was trying to be nonchalant about it, but the announcer called out that that was the last strike, and that it was time for the Knights to move into the dugout to become the batting team.

Zelda could see Link’s hesitation, looking with another wince in his expression at how far away the dugout was.

“Link,” Zelda said as she leaned forward, her heart paralyzed with fear.

Link took a deep breath, and tried to summon all the strength he could, but in one foolish stride, he crumbled back down to his hands and knees, the audience gasping and Zelda immediately standing up. She strapped her purse back on and started hurrying out of the stadium to meet him where the medics would take him.

Link was panting where he was on his hands and knees. He couldn’t even feel his leg anymore, and his teammates and rivals were crowding around him attempting to help.

“Back off!” Link heard a voice say. “We’ll handle this.”

He felt hands on him, hands checking his pulse, his breathing, hands gripping his limbs, his back as he was handled onto a gurney. He heard voices but he could barely make them out because of all the commotion. He felt a very subtle sensation on his leg that he assumed to be temporary wrapping as white clouds and blue skies flitted across his view.

“There’s an ambulance right outside,” was the first thing he heard that was coherent, as well as the clicking wheels of the gurney. He recognized the dark grey ceiling he saw as the locker room.

Zelda was restless as she waited by the open ambulance, and perked up immediately after hearing wheels. The paramedics didn’t seem to care for her at all as they loaded Link onto the ambulance.

“Link,” she said as she ran. “Link!” She exclaimed. Link cranked his head to get a view of Zelda, who was stopped from getting in the ambulance by a paramedic.

“Let me through,” Zelda insisted. “I’m his girlfriend.”

“Hospital policy,” the paramedic said. “Only family members and spouses.”

“But—”

“Zelda,” Link interrupted, with a tone in his voice that told Zelda he was about to tell her to let the situation be. He should be getting to the hospital as soon as possible and this was wasting time.

And yet, what he said next took her completely by surprise.

“Will you marry me?” He asked, Zelda’s eyes widening and her lips parting.

Even the paramedics had stopped.

Zelda had found the sincerity in Link’s blue eyes and smiled, everything seeming to slow down as she replied with all her heart.

“Yes.” She said, Link laughing and chuckling in disbelief.

“How about fiancés?” Zelda asked the paramedic, who stepped aside.

Zelda rushed onto the vehicle and to Link’s side, taking his hand. The paramedics who could afford to clapped while the others went back to their duties.

“Hey,” Zelda said.

“Hey,” Link replied.

Zelda leaned down and kissed him as the vehicle started with a jolt, continuing for a lingering, passionate second before withdrawing.

“Are you okay?” Zelda asked. “Do you feel any pain?”

Link tightened his grip on her hand.

“With you here?” He asked rhetorically, his eyes soft and on her. “I think I’ll be good as new in no time.”

#febuwhump #febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday16 #zelink #botw #tloz #zelda #link #breath of the wild #the legend of zelda

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kyoupann · 3 years

Note

Please do more of the writing head canons. It’s really interesting to see other people’s ideas on the topic, so if you can be bothered, I would highly appreciate more, thanks bye <3

Y’all don’t know how happy I am to talk about these headcanons, they are my babies and I love them so much :’) thanks for asking g <3

Handwriting Headcanons

Same dynamic as before, try to guess whose handwriting it is before reading and tell me how many you got right! <3

You can find the first post here (no need to check it tho)

Quick disclaimer: halfway through making my initial notes, I remembered I had one (1) single lesson of graphology in my applied linguistics class, but that was a year ago and some information might be off. I just thought it was neat to include.

Another quick disclaimer: I don’t know much about Hylian, but I like to think it has a similar stroke system to Japanese, so the pressure and accuracy of your strokes play a major role in your handwriting (among other things, ofc.) so there are some parts where I focus more on that

(First Row, from left to right)

Sky

Our first boy is mother hen! Believe it or not, he has the prettiest handwriting out of all of them! Sky: probably has nice, even elegant handwriting because Sun forced him to practice when they were little. In the end, that paid off because his handwriting is the prettiest one. There’s no pressure, but he is confident in what he writes that his lines aren’t thin. Mistakes? what is that? this boy has impeccable grammar and spelling. No mechanic errors to be found in his letters! I’d like to think that many of Hyrule’s classic/staple poems were originally written by the firt king aka sky child. Like, imagine, after a retiring from being a Person of Power (as the first ruler), Sky finds comfort in the arts: revisits his old woodcarvings and starts writing poetry about the world he still doesn’t fully understand. wowie. tldr: sky writes poetry and you can pry it from my cold dead hands.

This is what one of his letters would look like:

Next one is the one and only, our Hero of Time

2. Time

I’ll die on the “Time didn’t know how to read and write” hill. His handwriting is simple, not pretty but not messy. It has some grammar and spelling mistakes here and there. Can become unreadable if writing in a hurry, he sorts of forgets spaces between words are a thing/letters have different sizes and lowercase letters end up the same size as capital letters. I’m not saying he sometimes forgets to write articles: he just doesn’t want to. Honestly, he just has this dad-neat handwriting. He is a gentle dad and writes like a dad, if he puts too much pressure onto the paper, his handwriting become too sharp/angle-ish and ends up looking ugly. And as much as he would like to not care about it, in the end he does (:

Malon taught him how to write and it was quite the experience. At first he didn’t want to because he was ‘too old’ to learn and it was torture at first, but now look at him devouring his cowboy novels.

A chunk of his handwriting:

*sniff* such a dad quote.

3. my mansss, your 4x1 deal at Target: Four

Look, my boy is patient! He could do some nice and fancy lettering if he wanted to. He was taught that handwriting and spelling said a whole lot about him as a person, you know, like a first impression kinda thing; so he always proof reads more than twice before sending a letter. Super rare grammar mistakes.

The faster he writes, the more slant his writing becomes. Under stress/ when not sure how to write things down, run-on sentences are everywhere and his handwriting is inconsistent in general (I don’t headcanon each part of him having completely different handwriting because handwriting becomes muscle memory over time. It’s just slightly different variations of the same, like idk Vio’s handwriting is neater than Green’s and Red writes hearts instead of any dot/circle and no, I do not take constructive criticism on that, jk i do.) Adding on to each of the colours’ handwriting, I’d think Red and Green write with words slanted to the right( inclined), Vio is a mix of the opposite, so reclined and straight, and my mans blue a true neutral writes straight (kinda like Time’s).

The logic behind this is that inclined writing supposedly means honesty and need for giving (and getting) affection; reclined means, as you can probably imagine, defensiveness and repression of true feelings, but also shows great concentration; straight handwriting means self-control, observation and reflection as well as distrust and indifference. But as complete being (tm), Four just writes as in the image example which is not too straight and not too inclined, and I believe that’s a good middle for him

HOWEVER, if I’m feeling in the mood for crack, I totally accept this boy to have the ugliest, chicken scratches-looking handwriting! :’D It’s just funny to think that someone like him, who has to be precise and careful in his work, can't write neatly to save his life.

One of his letters would look like this:

Also I just LOVE how his hero titles look in this font ksksks

and that’s

(Middle row, from left to right)

4.- Mister Bunny Boy - Legend

His uncle taught him how to write. I’d call his handwriting pretty and neat at a first glance, but he presses too hard on the paper, most of the time staining the back or the following page. Sometimes will retrace some words if he doesn’t like how it looks (which only makes it messier). According to my notes, a thick or strong handwriting represents determination/commitment.

As I also headcanon him to know many languages, mechanical errors are more present than grammar ones; that is, weird capitalisation of words. Punctuation is somewhere in between; uses too many commas when he should just cut the sentence. he mixes punctuation from two languages or more in writing when too distracted (or too focused, because, well, pressure.); when he writes for himself, he has almost no problem following said language’s punctuation rules. Also, this is just polyglot culture, and I’m projecting a bit, but when he forgets a word in the language he’s writing, he just replaces it with its equivalent in another language because we don’t care about fluency, but rather functionality. in this household (more on that in my language hc, ksksks).

An example of his writing:

so powerful

4.- Mr. Wolfman, howl me a song - Twilight

I don’t have much for him because 1) I don’t think he writes a lot and 2) he is a hands-on/visual learner, I’ll die by that. He only learnt how to write because Ulli insisted it was important and he was not about to disrespect his momma; he IS That Guy, but doesn’t really write enough to have neat handwriting.

Many people seem to overlook the fact that his house is filled with books and write him as completely illiterate (which if not explored properly, ends up feeling a bit disrespectful and full of prejudice, but go off I guess; and that’s on my core Headcanons for Twi); however, he sticks to simple sentences. Knowing how to read and understanding a text is different from knowing how to write them. Like, when we would see a semicolon and understand its position in the text, but didn’t understand the nature of it. Is this clear? idk i’m sorry. So yeah, boy reads a lot, writes very little.

As for his Actual Handwriting, as opposed to Legend, his handwriting is thiccc but not because he presses into the paper; he is just that messy, he has no sense of ink-flow-control, he does what he can with what he has. To the untrained eye, his handwriting illegible letters like v, n, u are very similar; when he makes notes for himself he does it in the form of doodles or small ‘icons’. But! He reads a lot, so he rarely makes spelling mistakes (: he is your go-to guy when you don’t know how to write a word.

An example of his writing:

He keeps a journal, sue me.

3. My first born- Warrior

Okay, first off... I accept this is completely biased. I saw the idea and said “That’s True”. If you haven’t, please read Effective Communication; or The Lack of Thereof by htruona, a fic where the boys reflect on the language barriers between them. It’s incredibly funny and probably what made me start making these silly notes. So, if you’ve read that fic, you know where I’m going.

My man, Warrior, can’t fucking write. I mean, he physically can, but it’s very bad. Here’s the reason for it, tho, and it’s not his fault: Technically, he knew how to write alright but he joined the military and whatever note he had to write had to be concise or in the worst case coded. He mixes capital and lowercase letters. If we consider that he joined the military at around 15, his handwriting and grammar had yet to continue developing. Just think about how after summer break, your handwriting was always slightly worse than before because you didn’t write for an entire month. Now think what 2 years can do to that. Hmm, not cool, dude. He makes quick notes, when writing he’s all gotta go fast. he is the lighting mcqueen of writing; good for emergency messages, not ideal for love letters. His punctuation also suffered a lot, he only know full stops and commas and hardly uses them. A sentence for him is either one word or fifty without a single comma, no inbetween.

His hero title and an example of his writing.

(Bottom row, or what I like to call “fuck cursive” row)

7.- Magic man - Hyrule

I’m basic and I do agree with the popular headcanon of he not knowing how to write because well, y’all know his Hyrule. He only knows how to write his name because that’s important, same with numbers. I don’t see why would he write/read except checking the roadsigns. (he can even use this as an excuse for getting lost frequently; he thought it said something different.) But I do think that because his habitual reading consists of roadsigns, his ‘punctuation’ is weird af and places full stops/points/periods at the same level of his words and his commas/question/exclamation marks below them. Yk, creative license. Sadly, I don’t have much about my magic hands man so here’s what his writing would look like if he actually wrote a paragraph:

Man, I love Hyrule.

8.- Man, I don’t understand this boy - Wild

Cursive? ain’t nobody have the time for that. He woke up and had to save the world in his underwear while not knowing how to read nor write. He learnt during his journey and was taught by multiple people from different regions, that explains his inconsistent spelling of things and names for them. So Wild knows language variations for many items and uses them interchangeably (even if they aren’t exactly the same). Another headcanon related to writing/language skills that I’ve been thinking about is that if the shrine was able to cause amnesia, I’m sure there were other areas in the brain affected which leads us to language disorders such as agraphia and aphasia. But that’s a story for another day ksksksk

An example of his writing (after relearning)

9.- The best of sons - Wind

I don’t have much for him and that makes me sad. Look, he’s a kid, doing kid things like stabbing dudes on the head. This boy was taught cursive by his grandma, but could never do it and no one needs it anyway. His handwriting is good enough for his pirate life, Tetra is the one to handle Official stuff, he just gotta sign. Spelling and grammar mistakes abound. He is still relatively young and can correct his handwriting if he desires. But same as Wild, with how many times he’s been thrown out and hit his head, I’m starting to consider some language disorder for him as well.

An example of his writing:

aaand that’s it.

Thanks, y’all for showing interest in this silly thing uwu it was fun to finally talk about this. If you ever want to discuss ideas/headcanons(especially if they are related to language and culture), I’m your person (: I’m always happy to hear new headcanons. Feel free to add anything to this post either in a reply or in a reblog, I’d love to hear from y’all <3<3

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 3 years

Note

do you have any fics where stiles is treated badly? It could be by the pack, or by family, or something. I just need angst

Here’s some angst. I’ll just be crying over here, don’t mind me.

We Were Not Born to Drown by cutflowersound

(1/1 I 3,497 I Teen I Sterek)

After Gerard tortures Stiles, he is left alone to deal with it.

Derek saves him.

Scratch that, they save eachother.

You Were Never Meant to Know by Mooneye

(1/1 I 8,521 I Teen I Sterek)

“Not a fan of exorcisms, Stiles?” the figure asked as though he were enquiring about the rain.

“Not really. I could spew black bile if you’d like more authenticity,” Stiles answered.

“Stiles, what’s going on?” Scott demanded, unease growing.

Stiles is a demon, always has been, and never intended for anyone to know. Unfortunately, his secret is forcefully revealed and he has nowhere to hide.

Birds Eye View by HappyJuicyfruit

(2/2 I 20,956 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek’s eyes widened, and his first instinct was to look towards Scott, but he already knew what he was searching for wouldn’t be there. Hadn’t been there this whole time.

Stiles was missing.

Derek growled and turned to Scott, “what did you do?”

Scott, pale and wide eyed, looked between Derek and Chris, who were both looking at him for answers. “I- Deaton said he wouldn’t notice!”

Chris sighed, “wouldn’t notice what?”

Derek growled in agreement.

“Deaton gave me pills, full of mountain ash, to replace Gerard’s cancer pills. That way after Derek bit him, Gerard would die.”

Chris crossed his arms, “you didn’t think a cancer patient, or the doctor he checks in with regularly, would notice that he wasn’t taking his pills?”

He Is a Secret Born From a Legend Born From a Myth by LuneFaitLaFolie

(22/22 I 29,907 I Not Rated I Sterek)

Which leads him to where he is now, waking up in Derek’s bed, the pack, Deaton, Melissa and his dad all present. All of them looking worried sick and concerned, trying to distract themselves with something, anything to not go near Derek’s bed. Derek’s bed which he was currently occupying. He slowly looked down to his arms and yep, there they were, his invisible tattoos that were no longer invisible.

The Mating Privilege by Kikileduc

(12/12 I 35,380 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles and Derek have been happily mated. The pack is doing well, but in hopes of creating alliances for it to do better, Derek accepts a neighboring pack's request to allow two wolves to join the Hale-McCall pack for a full moon cycle. They hope to form a blood-tie, or at least a long term friendship between the two packs. The issue is Kohona, the tribal leader's daughter, has her eyes set on an unavailable alpha wolf. This could have drastic consequences for their young emissary, however...

Only he saw. by obsessedbutonline

(31/31 I 45,781 I Teen I Steter)

When the pack stopped telling him about meetings, Stiles laughed. It wasn't surprising that they forgot to update his number when their phones kept getting destroyed by the monster of the week...right? They just forgot. That happened. All the time! Too often. When the pack stopped giving excuses for forgetting, a deserving prickle of fear and trepidation etched its way into his heart, making his usually cocky and brave smile falter and leave. Only when they weren't watching. When they went out of their way to stop him going to meetings, he stopped smiling altogether. Only where they couldn't see. But it's fine, right? He was part of a family that loved him and just wanted to keep him safe...right? But when Derek used the door instead of the window to get into Stile's house, as small and insignificant a fact that may be, he accepted that something was wrong.

Residents of Bad Wolf Bay by Lunabell_Marauder_Knyte

(8/? I 49,769 I Not Rated I Sterek)

“Time travel is a tricky thing, Stiles.In your world...you lived, you ran with wolves, you fought...and you died. But I couldn't let you really die. But you couldn't be there anymore.” The Doctor said.

“...where am I now?” Stiles asked numbly.

“There are parallel universes. All mostly the same minus a few changes in each one. This is the one the Tardis is familiar with.Like before I am burning up a sun just to make sure you've made it alright.” the Doctor's hands are in his pockets as he looks at him with a sad smile. “In this life you were never born...so there won't be a problem of accidentally causing a paradox. I sent you to a point in time where you can make a difference. I know you're smart enough to figure things out...just...be careful. I am so, so sorry.”

“...Take care of my dad.” was the last thing he got to say before the Doctor vanished.

Or In which the pack's neglect and his father's indifference drive Stiles away. He becomes the Doctor's companion and we know that eventually all companion's adventures end. Some endings are happy, some are sad. Some are bitter sweet.

The Doctor tells the Sheriff and the Pack that Stiles won't be making it for dinner. Now...or ever.

Backstage is Full of Parasites by Falln_Grce

(14/14 I 61,349 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles learned to take care of himself from a young age. And despite going through trauma as a child, he's 17 now and has adjusted to the new normal as well as he can. With a soulmate-AU just to keep things interesting.

What if the Sheriff didn't turn to alcohol when his wife died... What if he focused all of his attention on helping a seven year old, recently removed from an abusive home, Isaac get settled into the Stilinski household... Where would Stiles fit into that world?

Escape From Eichen by MelodramaticSalad

(24/24 I 139,993 I Explicit I Sterek)

There's a reason why we have dreams we can't remember. What if those dreams had the possibility to show others and ourselves what our innermost desires were, even if they were completely unknown to ourselves? That is, until it was time for them to surface. It was 2018 when this new technology was first released to the public, four years ago. A company called the Eichen Corporation started up and had three very distinct things that they specialized in.

Derek Hale found himself trapped in an Eichen facility by mistake, he was completely normal, there was no reason for him to be there. One thing was for certain though, he was going to get out of this place, and he was going to take them down.

Do Not Go Gentle by MojoFlower

(51/51 I 195,878 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek Hale, Beacon Hills Alpha and Dom, wakes up in a dark cell already housing another captive – a mute, traumatized sub with a cruel collar around his neck. His only goal is to get them both free of their brutal circumstances; but even as he tries to get his young companion home, a bond between them grows. Nothing comes easily: danger and harrowing echoes of their ordeal shadow every step they take.

Blue Monday by ExpectNothingGainEverything

(18/? I 511,120 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles would have never guessed that the star player of the lacrosse team and presumably the hottest guy in school who everyone wanted a piece of and one of his most hated bullies would turn out to be his soulmate.

Derek would never have dreamed that fate would be so cruel to pair him up with a freak like Stilinski.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #injured!stiles #steter #peter hale #angst #hurt/comfort #Anonymous

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atomic-taco-muffin · 3 years

Note

Can you make a part 11 to the “MHA x Fem!Reader: Kingdom Hearts”

Kingdom Hearts Part 12

Warnings: Angst

Rating: SFW

Before I start this, here is your hero costume:

Now onto the series!

You and the others stepped onto a barren, windswept land.

“It’s time. The Keyblade Graveyard is up ahead,” Mickey said. You all nodded, directing your eyes toward your destination.

“Someone’s coming,” Sora said softly.

Beyond a cloud of dust, Master Xehanort approached you all across the wasteland, his pace calm and unhurried.

“You were right, dunce face. He is gross,” Bakugou whispered.

“Right?!”

“I can feel him staring into my soul. That’s so no manly,” Kirishima whispered.

Xehanort stopped before you all and began to speak.

“Legend has it that darkness once covered the world. We know so little about the Keyblade War--only that it was just the beginning. If ruin brings about creation, what, then, would another Keyblade War bring? When the darkness falls, will we be found worthy of the precious light the legend speaks of?” he said. Ansem appeared beside Xehanort.

“Who’s that?” Mina asked Denki.

“Ansem Seeker of Darkness. Xehanort’s Heartless,” Denki replied.

“Or will all of creation be instead returned to shadows? Today, we will re-create the legend and see,” Ansem said.

Next, Xemnas stepped forward, taking his place on the other side of Xehanort.

“That’s Xemnas. Xehanort’s Nobody,” Denki whispered.

“But first...Your light shines far too brightly. It must be extinguished in order for the truth to be seen,” Xemnas said. Vanitas appeared in front of the previous three.

“That’s Vanitas. The dark part of Ventus’s heart,” Denki whispered.

“Only when your hopes have been broken by battle upon battle can the key be claimed to Kingdom Hearts,” Vanitas said.

“And break you is what we shall do,” Y!Xehanort said, who had appeared next to Vanitas. “It has been etched.”

“That’s Xehanort younger self. You can totally see where things went wrong,” Denki whispered.

“That’s his younger self?” Mina asked.

“Yep.”

Darkness flowed from the five villains and surrounded the whole area, blocking out the sky itself. The cloud opened, and countless Heartless, Nobodies and Unversed began raining down upon you all.

“Look at how many there are!” you said.

“Okay, everyone, get ready!” Izuku said as the number of Heartless grew and grew.

“Remember! The Nobodies can only be defeated by a Keyblade!” Sora said.

“Got it!” you and Class 1-A said.

The number of creatures surrounding you all was fast growing into a near-endless horde. After managing to clear out the Heartless in your immediate vicinity, you and the others paused to catch your breath.

“Is everybody okay?” you asked as you surveyed the team. When you saw that they were, you relaxed somewhat with relief.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Sora called out. But just as you all were about to get moving, yet another figure appeared in the distance. Ventus was the first one to notice.

“Terra!” he shouted, running off before you all could get a word in.

Aqua started after him, calling his name with a hint of apprehension. Ventus was unaware that Terra’s body was under Xehanort’s control.

“Terra! We found you!” Ventus exclaimed as he took his friend’s hand (protect this baby, okay? he deserves the world!).

“Terra, please say you’re in there,” Aqua pleaded in a rather more cautious voice.

“That’s not him, is it?” Sero asked Denki, who shook his head in response.

Instead of replying, Terra observed Aqua quietly. His blue eyes seemed to stare right through her, and she placed a hand on Ventus’s shoulder to draw him away.

“What gives, Aqua?” Ven asked.

“I know that you’re not him,” she said as she placed herself before Ventus protectively. “Now, let our friend go!”

That was when Terra’s hair turned white, and his blue eyes turned to gold.

“He is their thirteenth,” Mickey said softly.

“Great. More Xehanort’s,” Bakugou said.

“Hey! Now you’re catching on!” Denki said.

“Shut up, dunce face!”

“Today is the day you all lose,” Terranort quietly told you all.

“What?!” Aqua cried. A dark fog began to congeal behind Terranort.

“Before you even face the thirteen, every last one of you will be torn heart from body. But fear not. The χ-Blade will still be forged,” Terranort said.

He called his Keyblade to his hand. Beyond the dark fog, atop of the cliffs looming above the wasteland, countless Keyblades stood thrust into the terrain like grave markers.

“We’re not gonna lose to you,” you said.

With a smirk at your challenge, Terranort launched himself at Ventus, closing the distance in a single moment, and dealt the boy with a devastating blow with his Keyblade. Ventus was sent flying and crashed to the ground in a cloud of dust.

“Ven!” Aqua gasped.

“That’s it!” Bakugou and Sora shouted as they charged at their foe. But Terranort caught Sora’s strike on his Keyblade and sent him sprawling on the dirt as well while he kicked Bakugou out of the way.

“Kacchan!” Izuku shouted.

“I’m fine, Deku,” Bakugou said.

Terranort next set his sights for Kairi, lunging for her. Axel threw himself in front of her, but he, too, ended upcast to one side.

“Axel!” Kairi cried.

Terranort held his Keyblade over Kairi’s head, poised to strike. Scrambling to his feet, Sora rushed over and threw his arms around her protectively, you doing the same thing to Sora.

“(Y/N)!” Class 1-A shouted.

“No! Sora!” Mickey shouted as Donald and Goofy rushed past him to either side.

Goofy’s shield found its way in front of Terranort’s Keyblade just before it could connect with you and Sora. The clash sent both of them staggering back, while Donald poured his magic into a spell so powerful it created glowing emblems on the ground beneath him.

“Zettaflare!” he shouted.

A tremendous beam of light shot from Donald’s staff straight into Terranort, cascading over him and blasting him away. Utterly exhausted, Donald collapsed, and Goofy and Mickey hurried over to him. You rushed over to help Donald while Aqua checked on Ventus, Riku and Kairi went to aid Axel, and Deku rushed over to Bakugou.

“I said I’m fine, damn nerd!” Bakugou shouted.

“This can’t be real,” Sora whispered. After healing Donald, you rushed over to Axel and did the same thing you did to Donald. You were all completely out of your depth. Sora could hardly believe what he’d just seen; Terranort had taken down four of them with almost no effort at all. And another dark whirlpool was growing beyond his fallen friends, releasing another wave of Heartless. Riku ran over to Sora and took him by the shoulder.

“Pull it together, Sora! We haven’t lost them. They still have their hearts. But we have to protect them,” he said.

“Right!” Sora agreed with a nod. The stream of countless Heartless in front of you all swirled upward into a vortex.

“We stand together,” Aqua said as she came to join Sora and Riku, Keyblade in hand.

“Go beyond!” Izuku said.

“PLUS ULTRA!” you and Class 1-A said. Aqua looked back at the king.

“Mickey, Kairi, Goofy, watch the others,” she said.

“No, we should all get to safety while we still can,” the king pleaded from where he knelt beside Donald.

“It’s too late for that,” Todoroki replied as he watched the storm build in the sky.

Masses of Heartless wove through the ravines, congealing into a colossal river that rushed straight at you all. The legion of Heartless--the Demon Tide--was so enormous you all could hardly understand what you were all-seeing. This was nothing like anything you all had seen in the Realm of Darkness and back at U.A. You all looked on in stunned amazement as the Demon Tide reared into the sky like a whirlwind.

“Denki, what the hell is that?” Mineta asked.

“It’s called the Demon Tide,” Denki replied.

“It can’t be...No...” The memories from Aqua’s time in the darkness were rising in her mind. The nightmarish Heartless that came back, again and again, no matter how many times she struck them down...had been just like this.

Perhaps sensing this sudden weakness in her mind, the storm of Heartless swept over her.

“Aqua!” Riku shouted. He watched as the Demon Tide swallowed up Class 1-A. Mickey, Goofy, Donald, and the rest in one fell swoop. You and Kairi knelt, protecting Axel, but were quickly carried away, too.

Yours and Kairi’s hands reached Sora’s--but your fingers passed through empty air. As the strength left Sora’s body, his Keyblade slipped from his grasp and vanished. Sora dropped to his knees and screamed, falling forward onto his hands in the dust.

“Sora!” Riku hurried over to his friend.

“They’re gone. Kairi, Donald...Goofy, the king...I just lost (Y/N) for the second time...Gone forever.” Sora raised his head slowly, eyes brimming with tears. “What do we do? Without them...I...All my strength came from them. They gave me all of it. Alone, I’m worthless. We’ve lost...it’s over.”

Riku considered comforting Sora with a hand on the shoulder, but he chose to get to his feet instead.

“Sora, you don’t believe that. I know you don’t,” he assured him, then walked toward the Demon Tide to face it himself.

As Sora watched, the Heartless attacked, and Riku took the full brunt of it head-on. The flood of Heartless split in two against Riku’s Keyblade, streaming out around them to either side. But not even that was enough--eventually, the darkness swallowed him, too. Sora gasped--and then the world went black.

And so, as foretold, the darkness prevailed, and light expired...

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