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#din’s facebook files

kimhortons · 2 days

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life recently.

there's a new coffee kiosk sa baba ng office namin that is very affordable yet super worth it naman sa price niyang 49-65 pesos. haven't tried ng standard na timpla nila, but judging by the looks of it kasi, mukhang matamis and goods naman if nag pa-add ng 1 shot ng coffee. mas worth it pa 'to kesa dun sa katapat na coffee shop na halos pang starbucks na yung presyo, but hindi naman masarap yung coffee. estetik lang e. haha

we had a photoshoot sa office, for business profile, 201 file and for social media use kineme. natawa ko kasi nung in-upload ko 'to sa stories ko, yung mga dati kong kawork akala'y manager na ako hahaha. sinasakyan nalang namin ni J mga nag cocomment, minsan sakanya pa namemention "nasa magandang kalagayan na yun" little did they know, e di naman din ganun kaperfect sa bago kong workplace haha. shrug off nalang. hehe

last friday, i went to the doctor. naalala ko sa isang post na shinare ko sa Facebook, yung video na may caption na; "in the phase where doing everything alone still feels painful but also helpful." naalala ko kasi kako, isa sa pinakatatakutan kong gawin mag isa dati, ay yung mag punta ng mag isa sa doctor. lagi ko kasing kasama noon si mommy or si lola. ngayon kaya ko na mag pa check up mag isa. though I'd still prefer na may kasama especially si J, for support lang if ever, (wag naman) may hindi magandang result.

so ayun nga, after i went to the doctor, dumeretcho ako sa SM para mag lunch and hintayin si J. medyo na ti-teary eyed ako nun habang kumakain mag isa at katext si J, kasi sabi ng doctor, baka nagreactivate yung sakit ko dati at kinailangan kong magpa chest CT scan para makita talaga kung anong meron since wala akong dalang records ng xray ko noon for comparison. covered naman siya ng medicard, kaso cash basis daw sila sa ospital at pwede naman daw mapa reimburse yun ng company. kaso parang ang hassle, 6-7k pa naman yun baka mamaya mahirapan pa akong magpa reimburse. kaya medyo nag woworry din ako. pero sana hindi na bumalik.

while waiting, i went to nails glow to have my gel nails. si rea na yung nirequest ko since siya na lagi yung nakakagawa ng sets ko. and okay yung lagay niya kasi tumatagal talaga. dun narin ako naabutan ni J pag dating niya, tumambay nalang siya sa loob habang ako naman yung hinihintay niya.

after getting my nails done, kumain kami sa Shakeys, and tried their mix and match since kami ay medyo tipid but also want to try other restaurant. and since na-try na namin 'to, sure akong hindi na kami babalik haha. hindi ko talaga bet yung chicken nila, wala na ako gaanong panlasa pero naaalatan parin ako sobra. yung spaghetti rin nila, hindi ganun kasarap. mas okay pa yung combo ng greenwich. sulit na sulit sa spag palang. haha hater.

we were supposed to go on a swimming sana nung saturday na kaming dalawa lang, kaya nga kami nag leave both sa work, last last week pa namin 'to napag usapan e, but since kinailangan ko na naman gumastos sa gamot, hindi na nga natuloy umuwi ng manila, hindi pa 'to natuloy. so maghapon lang kami nasa bahay over the weekend. nanungkit lang siya ng mangga, then nag linis ng kwarto. kanina nag laba naman. inayos ko rin yung dati kong work desk dito na ngayon ay lagayan ko na ng mga pabango haha.

bumalik narin siya ng naga kanina, naiyak ako nung paalis siya kasi namimiss ko agad siya, lalo pag ganitong may nararamdaman ako, sobra niya kasi akong alagaan, pag nagigising ako sa gabi, gumigising din siya, pag nag brobrownout, di niya ako tinitigilan paypayan at pinapauna ako pabalikin sa pag tulog. taga kuha ng tubig, taga hain pag kakain na. hindi ko na siya kailangan sabihan kasi nag kukusa siya kapag alam niyang masama pakiramdam ko. lalo ko siyang minamahal sa kung paano niya ako alagaan, hay lord.

#jrnl

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inprimalinie · 7 months

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Moscova - file de jurnal: Fântâna ”Prietenia popoarelor”

Așa după cum v-am spus deja într-o postare de pe Facebook, am adus cu mine din Rusia multe lucruri frumoase pe care le voi împărtăși cu voi. Georgiana Arsene Nu este vorba de lucruri materiale, ci de unele spirituale. Am adus multe povești frumoase despre locurile pe care le-am vizitat, despre ce am văzut în Moscova și în Sankt Petersburg, precum și multe, multe fotografii și filmulețe…

View On WordPress

#Fântâna Prietenia poparelor #GeorgianaArsene #i love Moscow #Moscova #VDNH #Georgiana Arsene #Rusia

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catstarrecordings · 8 months

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CATSTAR RECORDINGS RADIO SHOW 222

DOWNLOAD M4a - https://drive.google.com/file/d/1aDcd4pm953H3JELqQSqZwb0bB9AD0IEq/view?usp=sharing

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01.Clio - We Got Music (Dr Packer Extended Disco Mix) 02.Wamdue Project - King of My Castle (Purple Disco Machine Extended Remix) 03.Purple Disco Machine - Something On My Mind feat Duke Dumont & Nothing But Thieve 04.Martin Brodin & Vision Factory Feat. Teresa Kali - Run (Tensnake Remix) 05.Mirko & Meex - Remind Me 06.Kevin McKay, Lux Velour & Notelle - Body (Extended Mix) 07.Greg van Bueren & Dutchican Soul - Hear the Voices (Original Mix) 08.Jo Paciello, Venessa Jackson - Alive (I_'m Feeling You) (Extended Mix) 09.Jo Paciello - Love, Drinks and Sunshine (Extended Mix) 10.Din Jay & Jame Starck feat. Michelle Weeks - Believe (Windy City Classics Extended Remix) 11.Angelo Ferreri - All I Want (Original Mix) 12.Groove & Soul - See Your Jack (Original Mix) 13.Inner City & Kevin Saunderson - Good Life (Remastered) (Extended Mix) 14.Mason Collective, Bipolar Sunshine - People In Love (Extended Mix) 15.Johnny O - Fantasy Girl (Luca Debonaire x Da Clubbmaster Nu Disco Mix) 16.Max Magnani - Kill the Groove (Original Mix) 17.Husky & Shyam P - Ticking Away (Extended VIP Club Mix) 18.Dj.A-Bor - It’s All Vain 2023 19.Laurent Simeca - All Night to the Sun (Stev Dive Extended Remix) 20.Kolombo - Freeze 21.Middleground, Alex Kenji - Focus (Murchikk & D!scoman Club Mix) 22.Mochakk - Jealous (Murchikk & D!scoman Club Mix) 23.Piero Pirupa, Tasty Lopez & Jen Payne - Because The Night (Extended Mix) 24.Terri-Anne, Michael Grald - City Of New York (Extended Mix) 25.William Djoko, Foremost Poets - Pornography

CATSTAR RECORDINGS RADIO SHOW 222 Mixed & Compilation by:A-Bor aka Dj.Boolya TELEGRAM CATSTAR REC ЧЕРВОНОГРАД UA https://t.me/catstar

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yuppielionheart · 1 year

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Paano nga ba i-register ang SIM card?

GLOBE, SMART or DITO subscriber?

Mapa ano pa man ang network niyo, parehas lang ang requirements para sa lahat ng network para makapag register kayo.

Requirements:

- Valid ID (government issued ID)

- Selfie 🤳

- Personal information tulad ng pangalan, petsa ng kapanganakan, kasarian, address

List of Government issued valid IDs:

- BIR ID - Driver's License - GSIS e-Card - IBP ID - LTOPF ID - NBI Clearance - OWWA ID - Passport - Philippine Identification (National ID) - Police Clearance - PRC ID - PWD ID - Senior Citizen's ID - SSS ID - UMID ID - Voter's ID - Other ID

Maari kayo mag register gamit ang app ng network o sa pamamagitan ng link.

Narito ang link kung saan kayo pwede makapag register.

Globe: https://www.globe.com.ph/register-sim-card.html

Smart: https://simreg.smart.com.ph

Dito: https://register.dito.ph/

Madali lang mag register ng SIM card, kapag nasa link na kayo, kailangan niyo lang ay:

1. i-fill up ang mga kailangan na information sa inyo.

2. i-Scan o i-Upload ang valid ID.

3. At mag selfie upang masiguro na kayo talaga ang nagrerehistro ng SIM card.

Siguraduhin na maayos ang inyong internet connection habang nagregister.

At hindi lalagpas ng 4MB ang size ng selfie picture.

Maari niyo baguhin ang settings sa camera ng phone niyo kung kayo ay nagkaka error sa step na kailangan niyo mag selfie.

Maari din naman iScreenshot ang inyong larawan para mas bumaba ang total file size nito at iupload.

Ang file type na tinatanggap ay JPG, PNG, HEIC o PDF.

Siguraduhin na hindi cropped ang inyong larawan at ito ay hindi malabo.

Kapag successful ang registration niyo makakatanggap kayo ng text confirmation

Pero kung talaga naman na hindi nagiging successful ang selfie niyo.

Ang maari niyong gawin ay mag reach out sa customer support ng network niyo para sa sim registration.

youtube

Sana nakatulong ito!

Facebook | Instagram

0 notes

hostingdemo · 2 years

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adavewor · 2 years

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theydjarin · 1 year

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How would you get a small cylinder (5.1in length, ~4.5in girth) unstuck from a beskar tube filled with a sample of the living waters under the mines of Mandalore?

Alt take on the bath one:

#this may be the dumbest thing i've ever made i'm so proud #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #din djarin #fuck it im gonna tag the chars #boba fett #cobb vanth #fennec shand #paz viszla #i'm clinging to this found family and JF can't stop me #my stuff #mandalorian spoilers #star wars #blasphemy cw #oops #cap’s bespoke memes #din’s facebook files #<- in spirit

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kimhortons · 10 months

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9th of July.

so i'm hopping on a trend called threads, yeah, nabudol na ko. hahaha. still not sure if mame-maintain ko siya, cos at times sobrang tamad ko na mag scroll sa social media. yung Twitter ko nga di na active, pero di ko parin binubura haha. i-abandon ko nalang talaga para pag naisipan ko ulit maging active atleast, andun lang haha.

minsan pinag iisipan ko parin mag deactivate ng Facebook kasi friends ko nga yung mga bago kong kawork ngayon, minsan ilag tuloy ako mag post freely ng mga hinaing ko, kasi ayaw ko mag leave ng impression sakanila, but wala e, magpapaka totoo nalang talaga na maldita talaga ako in real life haha char. naalala ko yung ginawa kong private FB account, diba di ko na nabubuksan hahaha. i was thinking rin if dun ko nalang iaadd mga kawork ko tapos ibblock ko sila sa main account ko haha. kaloka.

so anyway, i'm coming home to Manila next next week. si Rachel at Jasmine palang sinabihan ko kasi kung sasabihan ko lahat ng friends ko, baka lahat sila gusto ako makita haha. parang nung before ako umalis, lahat sila gusto mag spend ng time with me bago umalis so medj naging hectic talaga yung last 5 days ko non. e weekend lang ako andun, balak ko nga sana wag na mag leave ng Monday para di ko na need mag file ng LOA, kaso wala nga palang morning trip yung Isarog sa PITX e dun na sana namin kikitain yung pamangkin ni J para di na kami magpunta ng Cavite.

pwede naman din ako mag deretcho pasok if hapon ng Sunday kami babyahe kaso baka antukin ako sa work. so mag leave nalang daw ako sabi ni J kasi mag lileave din siya nun, tsaka para makapahinga pa kami. kaso, ayaw ko sana malaman ng OM ko na uuwi ako ng Manila kasi baka mag expect ng pasalubong or magpabili ng kung ano haha. e limited lang yung time ko, baka di ko ma-asikaso. medj nakakapang hinayang lang mag file ng leave, tapos di pa bayad e sa August mareregular na ko, sana August nalang diba.

pwede rin namang balikan lang kaso sobrang limited nalang talaga ng time. possible na si Rachel lang ang mameet ko nun. pero okay lang din since closing si Jasmine, 10 pm pa out niya kung morning naman alis namin, puyat pa kami, ganun din kulang sa pahinga. ayusin ko nalang siguro yung time table para pagkasyahin yung lakad ko, since kukuha lang naman ako ng gamit talaga at magsusundo sa pamangkin ni J, pwede kami bumyahe ng 9pm ng Saturday pabalik dito if ever. bahala na bukas kung makapag file ng leave or hindi.

#jrnl

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resident-evil-1-ps1-cheattb · 2 years

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RESIDENT EVIL 1 2 3 4 Cheats MEMORY CARD SAVES PS2 PS1 Code Veronica X Nemesis $ - PicClick

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cashbarter · 2 years

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‎من صالة العرض CASH BARTER. -RAWDA

Electric razor Surker HC 7068

Don't forget if you're a CB member you can profit by paying: HALF$cash, HALF$CB coins.

Features:

1,5 adjustable cutting height, two limit comb, a total of 10 file limit adjustment, it can be out of 4,7,10,16,18,21,24,27,30 mm ten kinds of length, suitable for all types Beard and hair

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Packing size: 22 * 19 * 6cm

Power: 3 (W)

Voltage: 110 V-240 V, 50 / 60Hz

Power supply: rechargeable

Waterproof: Yes

Charging time: 8 hours

Use time: 40 minutes

Product weight: 170g

Plug Type :EU Plug,it applies to Indonesia, Germany, France, Spain, Italy and so on.

Package Included:

1X hair clipper

1X comb

2X limit comb

1X cleaning brush

1X oil bottle

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1X English manual

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catstarrecordings · 8 months

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localbff · 3 years

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hello. the long social media hiatus has come to an end at ako'y nagbabalik para mag-imporma sa mga tao ng isang kapirasong medya na ay baka inyong magustuhan. (quite possibly long post ahead, i'll include a TL;DR by the end of it) anyways, hi ulet. magkakalahating taon din ako halos di nagpopost dito sa facebook ko. sabi ko sa sarili ko "ano na nga bang purpose netong facebook account ko? para nalang ba to sa mutuals na kaklase ko para paalalahanan ako na may klase ngayong araw at hindi araw ng puro tulog o pang spread ng awareness sa mga kasulukuyang problema na hinaharap ng bansa natin?" and of course, the person that i am, pinili ko neither and chose to go AWOL on everyone hahaha, and quite honestly ako'y natuwa na ginawa ko yun. somewhat naging medyo maluwag ang pakiramdam ko in a way na di tulad last year eh sunod-sunod ang mga dumating na problema sa bansa at sakin personally.

netong pandemic, sure ako na lahat tayo eh tumutok sa mga palabas na matagal na nating gusto panoorin ngunit wala lang tayong oras para balakin itong tuluyan na panoorin. same as me, i did whatever shit i haven't done before; 1 week nonstop binge watching films and shows na nasa listahan ko lang. matagal ko na to ginagawa ngunit etong phenomenon na to ay ngayon lang. di naman siya hardcore o dapat bigyan ng karangalan (di nga siya healthy sa totoo lang- wag nyo ako tutularan or wag nyo na ituloy ang ganitong paraan ng pamumuhay pre promise magtiwala ka sakin) pero somewhat ito'y naging achievement ko para sa sarili ko with a very unhealthy connotation that comes with it. ask me if i did it on purpose? yes and no. don't bother asking. ask me if it was worth it? definitely. ask me kung ako'y nakakakuha pa ng tulog sa mga panahon na yan? oo naman. di ko naman sinabi na buong araw ako nanood eh, 1 week nonstop lang. and with that comes great repercussions. sobrang sama ng pakiramdam ko and pagod buong pagkatao ko sa physical and mental marathon na hinangad ko sa sarili ko. alam kong may mga kaibigan ako na kayang kaya to gawin (actually, mas malala pa nga ata sa ginawa ko) and i say to that na mamser magpahinga naman kayo. sabihin na nating worth it pero in the long run...? WORTH IT TALAGA. sorry not sorry. and sa mga taong nagbabalak na gawin itong ganito ngunit sa ibang paraan, let it be a testing ground and a practice range on how long can you go without having a change of heart or something. not saying na isa na akong tunay na cInEpHiLe kasi engot lang magsasabi niyan sa sarili nila (sarcasm of course). pero sa totoo lang nagkaroon akong slight improvement sa aking attention span sa mga bagay. got me thinking to myself pano ko natapos ang 'satantango' at ang 'a hidden life' without having to think about how slow paced and boring it is (...sobrang worth it. and i'm probably dickriding on the trend na kung san 10/10 ang satantango para sa ilan - and yes. yes i am dickriding to the idea of it being a 10/10). i have covered so much ground and i'm still looking forward to watching more stuff and etc.

pero anyways, eto na talaga yung topic, sub-topic lang yang text na yan para filler sa aking existential dread. SOBRANG HIRAP HUMANAP NG BROCKA/AVELANA/DE LEON/BERNAL (hindi joyce) at sama na rin natin si Hou Hsiao-Hsien, mga top oriental filmmakers na may mga reputasyon na sobrang tagong filmographies sa buong internet. swertehan kung makakita ng kahit low quality rip ng films nila pare. ang tanging pagasa mo nalang para mapanood ilan-ilan ng mga gawa nila ay kung meron kang kopya sainyo o kung may kakilala kang meron copy. at kung meron ka PLEASE PAHINGI AKO HILAAN PATAAS LANG MENTALITY NATIN DITO WALANG DAMUTAN PEKSMAN PRE. tanging pagasa nalang talaga minsan ay abs-cbn film restoration kung babalakin ba nilang mag-palabas ng libre sa fb live nila at vimeo ni sir Mike De Leon.

and with that out of the way, nakahanap akong kopya ng isang restored World Cinema Project ni pareng Scorsese out of my curiosity for the film at kung san ito maari mapanood. and luckily- may torrent option para dito mga pre. di ko na i-include yung torrent link baka kasi by the time na makita nyo tong post na to eh ay wala na yung mismong video/torrent. at eto na nga yung purpose kung bakit ko nga isinigawa ang kahaba-habang post na 'to- ay ipaalam na ako ay may kopya ng buong movie na Insiang ni sir Lino Brocka at eto ay inupload ko online which is available for download. this serves as a backup para dun sa original kasi anytime maari yun mawala at mahuli ng respective owners and such. i have no plans of re-uploading the files as to sobrang laki at sobrang bagal ng internet connection namin ay di ko sure kung ito ba ay magiging successful pa sa pag-upload ulit. pero if ever na na-take down yung file at di kayo nakakuha ng copy, i gotchu. bigay mo lang sakin hard drive/disk o kung ano man meron ka na may space na around 1gb at ito ay ilalagay ko doon. nais ko lang naman magbigay at tumulong sa mga may kailangan and for educational purposes na kung saan ito'y kinakailangan/kakailanganin para sa program nila or just simply for leisure time. pero if ever na may na-recieve akong notice from the authorities or someone in a higher position, i may have to take it down respectively.

nakakatamad na mag-isip wala na akong masabing kasunod netong mga 'to at dito ko na tatapusin ang aking facebook post na 'to. see you in 2021 or wherever.

TL;DR nakahanap ng kopya ng restored version ng Insiang ni Lino Brocka at nais ibahagi ito sa tao.

i do it for the love of cinema. enjoy.

www.mediafire.com/file/igu9wegw36n6vkf/Insiang.zip/file

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parf-fan · 3 years

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One year ago, Rob Condas posted in celebration of Shakespeare’s birthday. A year later, I finally finished writing the fic that post (and comments thereupon) inspired. This is the first Faire fic I’ve ever finished, and would reeeealllly like some feedback on it, please. In addition to the ao3 link, the text of the fic is below the read-more.

Title: The More, the Marrier Words: 6,705 Chapters: 1/1 Pairings: Horace Tanningrove & William Shakespeare, Horace Tanningrove / John Hopfield Warnings: drunkenness, drunken shenanigans, canon-typical implied/referenced dubious consent (very mild though, if you were okay with the bender subsubsubplot of Myths and Legends 2019, you should be okay here)

Summary: "Happy Birthday Shakespeare ❤️ I hope you and Horace are painting the town tonight" –Rob "Oh, if you thought Horace and Shakespeare went hard in the summer and fall of 1558, just WAIT till you see what they'll do for Will's birthday" –Michael Having relocated the previous autumn when the R and J play was picked up by a producer in London, Will now celebrates his natal day by returning to visit his hometown of Mount Hope. Much of the first day of this visit is, of course, spent in the company of Horace Tanningrove. As the two become progressively drunker, they engage in shenanigans of sundry disaster variations. In the morning, both are hellaciously hungover, and the night is a blur, at best.

Opening notes: This fic is dedicated in equal measure to Rob Condas and Michael Stahler, with thanks to the same for inspiring it through a Facebook post and comments on said post, respectively. And, obviously, for partially creating and fully rendering such lovable and memorable characters, with such an exquisite dynamic and rapport. The admiration I hold for you defies description.

Thanks to kaythehawk for the title, for proofreading and feedback, and for lowkey holding my hand through the posting process; and to my mom for assistance in devising phrases and combating lethologica.

To anybody unfamiliar with the 2019 season of the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire: First, what series of events in you life led you to this fic? Second, you are quite welcome to read it, but you will undoubtedly be quite confused on many points.

This is a fanwork created out of love and admiration for the source material and those who brought it about. Characters and setting belong to Zeno Creative Group PRF Productions.

The More, the Marrier

April 24th , mid-morning:

Will cracked an eyelid and his skull promptly split. Though he hastily undid the first, the second diminished but slightly. He cast about for words to describe it. “Uuhhhurrgh,” he eventually settled upon.

His eloquent critique was answered in kind from nearby, and Will decided that his desire for information would lend him the fortitude to bear the suffering. He opened his eyes – both this time, and all the way – albeit slowly. Only one of them appeared to work, but he filed that away as a problem for later. Instead, he took in his surroundings. Locks and bars and but the tiniest of windows. Wooden benches, pallets of straw. On some of the straw —

“Horace?” Will's voice rasped like a file, and it occurred to him that he was very thirsty.

Horace opened his eyes, promptly shut them, and said. “Prithee, extinguish the sun. Temporarily.”

“Would that I could, friend.”

Horace gave eyesight another try, amid much blurring and face-rubbing. At length, he got enough of a handle on it to look over to Will. “That garland is most becoming on thee,” he said. “Quite a jaunty angle.”

Will put a hand to his head and, feeling rapidly-wilting blossoms, found the cause of his partial blindness in the form of a flower-crown that had slipped over one eye. He gingerly adjusted it. “Thou lookst not o'er shabby in thine,” he observed.

Horace reached up and likewise discovered a ring of flowers encircling his brow, though his had not slipped. He considered it, then left it as it was.

Having solved the mystery of the halved eyesight, Will turned his intellect toward discerning their surroundings. In a moment, he'd concocted an ingenious scheme to that end. “Where thinkst thou we are?” he asked.

Horace, who'd been looking around despite the excruciating pain in his head and how damn bright the world was, answered, “I should fain think we be in the jailhouse.”

“The jailhouse? Nay!”

“Aye, there's bars and everything.”

A voice blared from out of eyeshot at a volume surely far higher necessary. “Well reasoned, master Tanningrove. I should consider thee for the position of deputy with detective brilliance like that.”

Horace, who'd pressed his hands to his ears and yet could hear every decibel with painful clarity, said, “Oh, well, that's very kind of thee, Sheriff Perry, but I fear I should find such work dreadfully boring.”

“It was a jest. I was makin' fun of thee.”

“Oh.”

By now, Will and Horace had both gotten themselves turned so as to see the sheriff standing near what was, upon slight inspection, the door to their cell.

“Good morrow, Sheriff!” said Will in as perky a voice as he could muster, for surely manners were paramount in such a situation as they found themselves.

“It is a good morrow, indeed,” agreed the sheriff. “It is not so good a morrow as it might have been if thou hadst not managed to lock the deputy in a cell and toss the key down a well, but it is a good morrow nonetheless.”

Will paled. “We erm, we stole the keys?”

“Aye, but Douglas had the spare set, so all was well. Of course, he insisted I release him a day or so early in exchange, but that is no great matter.”

“Oh.”

A silence followed, perhaps awkward for those who kept track of such things. At length, Will asked, “So, erm, are we locked in here for stealing from law enforcement?”

“Nay, nay, nah, thou are in 'ere for public drunkenness, possible debauchery, and general annoyance.”

“Ah.”

“But I be letting thee out now.”

“Oh! 'Tis generous of thee.”

Horace chimed in. “Be there a– a fine, or aught?”

The sheriff mucked about with his keys in an overly-loud manner. “Well,” he said, “if there were a fine, then it could be considered paid had young Will here had several pieces of jewelry upon his person last e'entide which have since vanished for reasons indiscernible.

Both men were interrupted in parsing that statement by the cell door swinging open with a din surely worthy of Typhon stirring beneath Mount Aetna. Horace clamped his eyes shut, his hands over his ears once more, grinding his teeth in spite of himself. At length, he managed to comprehend the words “...and thank thee so much for that glorious surprise thou didst leave stuffed in my seat cushion. There is nothing I like better when sitting down after locking up troublemakers at dawn than to find that I have crushed a mess of grapes of questionable freshness, and that the sour-yet-unfermented juice of said grapes is rapidly soaking my trousers. Truly appreciated that.”

“Ah. Yes. Well.” said Horace, glancing at Will. “That would likely have been, I am sure, mine idea.”

“It was mine.” interjected Will abruptly and vehemently – far too vehement for a muddled and hungover mind to be sure of.

Sheriff Perry gestured them out of the cell. As they struggled to their feet, he said, “I shall perceive it as Horace's idea nonetheless, for if it were, then I would consider it pardoned on account of him later turning himself in.”

Horace stared.

Will, whose headache was exacerbated somewhat less by the light and noise that Horace's, took his friend by the elbow and guided him from the cell. The touch on his arm caused Horace to look down, whereupon he realized he was in his shirtsleeves.

“Sheriff, I shudder to ask, but did I come here thus? or is my doublet somewhere hereabout?”

“Oh, aye!” answered the sheriff, clearly remembering. “I put it in the chimney, at thy request.”

Horace stared, this time with his mouth slightly agape, before finding words. “Where on Earth for would I ask such a thing of thee?”

The sheriff was messing about in the chimney. “You grinned and said 'This will confuse me so much on the morrow'.” He removed his arm from the chimney. “It would seem that drunk Horace doth enjoy playing pranks upon sober Horace.”

Horace caught the rather dusty doublet the sheriff tossed him. “That....explaineth so very much.” He gave the doublet a shake, instantly regretted the jolt to his headache, and shrugged into it regardless.

They had just made it outside the jailhouse and were dealing with the assault of the sunlight upon their very beings when Sheriff Perry stuck his head out the door and called after them. “Oh, Miles stopped by earlier. He asked me to tell thee that he'd done a little research and learned that the thing you hired him for is, in fact, entirely legal, and will thus cost double if thou art still interested.”

* * *

April 23 rd :

Memory was delicate and uncooperative, skittering out of reach like Tantalus's fruit if approached directly. A blur of celebration, an echo of good company, a haze of extensive alcohol. Quite likely they had begun sometime after midday, celebrating Will's visit home from London. Day had turned to evening, and as evening wore on, their revelry had perhaps bordered on debauchery, and they were presumably cast from whichever alehouse they'd been ensconced in. Now past wisdom, they had undoubtedly raided the Tanningrove winecellar. As evening faded into night, they had roamed the streets with no real goal besides pleasant existence and mutual company.

This was the state in which they found themselves investigating little sounds from the secondary structure of the forge.

Will gave a small gasp. “Is this true love? I finally found it after all these years.” A dusty grey kitten rubbed its face into his hand. “I would die for thee!” He picked the cat up and scratched its cheek. It gave a disconcerted squeal as it left the ground, but began purring once Will cradled it. “Horace, look!”

Horace's eyes widened and he reached out to pet the kitten, who seemed quite pleased with the additional attention. “Hath it a name?”

Will thought for a moment before saying, “Honeybee, for 'tis buzzing.”

“Mayhap Honey for short?”

“Aye.”

More meowing rose from near their feet. “There yet are more!” cried Will, as he passed Honey to Horace and knelt back down. This time, he reached toward a vaguely striped brown cat, who regarded him with ambivalence before allowing itself to be petted. “By Christ's calluses, I would bloody die for thee.”

Horace, whose shoulder was being kneaded by Honey, said, “That one doth look like a Priscilla.”

Will nodded, then winced as Priscilla lightly bit him. “Priscilla the Scylla,” he amended.

Horace frowned, thinking. “That, that's the whirlpool? The one Odsendus – Osdysa – the Odd guy went near?”

Will struggled with thought and word. “Mayhap? There were six heads.”

“But Priscilla hath one head only.”

“Aye, but she bites. Scylla did to chomp sailors.” He deposited the indifferent cat in Horace's arms with the first, and knelt again, holding his hand out to the final kitten. The final kitten – curled into a shape reminiscent of a turkey leg, and Will instantly named it accordingly – reacted not at all, so he tentatively placed his hand on the fluff's head. It let out a small squeak. Will's eyes were large and shining, his face aglow. “Thou art my muse,” he proclaimed. “I– I would live for thee.”

Horace repositioned Honey to allow for Priscilla climbing his shoulder. “Thou should write that down,” he muttered. “Such a declaration of love I ne'er have heard.”

Will did not seem to hear him. A look of pain was passing over his face. He looked up suddenly at Horace and said in a choked tone, “We cannot leave them here! This place be dustful and lonesome and– and there be sharplisome things about! What if one were to stab itself?”

Horace nodded gravely. “'Twould make the tragedy of Indigo's Investigations seem as unto a children's pageant by comparison.”

“We must save them!” Will stood swiftly, garnering a startled yowl from Legg. Horace was adjusting Honey and Priscilla. “As soon as I open the door, we run and we do not stop until we reach your home.”

“Aye.” Horace steeled himself. Will unlatched the little gate, or tried to. Either he could not open it one-handed, or it was twisting and writhing so as to sabotage his problem-solving. Or because he was drunk, he was vaguely aware of that as a possibility.

At length, he turned to Horace in defeat. “'Tis no use,” he declared. “We shall have to climb over the counter. Prithee, hold Legg.” He deposited the jet fluff in Horace's arms with the others before setting himself on the counter and swinging his legs over. Horace passed him the kittens, then hopped over in kind.

“Where are we running?” asked Will, as he handed Honey and Priscilla back to Horace.

“My house, I thought thou did say.”

“I said that?” asked Will. “I be quite clever, I suppose.”

“Thou hast thy moments.”

Yet scarce had they gone a dozen steps when they felt themselves joined by an unmistakable Presence. Almost without intending to, they slowed their steps to a standstill, and were at length able to make out the form of a cat darker than the blackened steel of an anvil. This cat that was not a cat looked upon them and spoke in human tongue.

“Inebriated mortals. Seek thou not to abduct these young ones. They yet are but kittens – babes, to thee – and are not yet ready to leave the care of my familiars at the forge.”

Will's voice was tremblesome and broken, yet he spoke. “But.... But there are sharp things there.”

If a cat could facepalm – and indeed, who is to say that a cat sìth cannot? – this one would've. “The humans of the forge make it their business to foster my mundane brethren until they may be taken in by ordinary humans as any other cat. Rest assured that their area is safe for them.”

The Being stepped closer. “Return the younglings to the forge, and I give you assurance that when the time comes, my familiars shall consider thee for their adoption. Otherwise,” and now the Being began to grow, “risk my wrath upon thee. Know that I can restore the dead to life; what thinkst thou, then, I can do to the living?”

Will stood mute in fear and anguish, but Horace had wit or sense slightly more. Holding all three kittens, he bowed respectfully to the cat sìth, then hastily retraced his steps to the forge, where the gate sprang open before him. He deposited the small fluffs as near their initial positions as he could gauge, then hastened back to his friend. The felinesque Presence dissipated as he returned, as did the force of terror holding Will.

* * *

April 24th , mid-morning:

The assault of the sun troubled Horace greatly, and he kept his eyes as closed as possible. The surrounding din was likewise torment. He stumbled somewhat over a chicken he couldn't see.

Will absently steadied him, but his focus was on the chicken. “That chicken hath a five upon its back,” he observed.

“How wondrous for it,” said Horace glumly, his eyes still mostly shut. Will's attention returned to his friend, and he realized that Horace was suffering from the light and noise even more than himself. On sudden inspiration, he reached up and adjusted Horace's flower-crown so it partially obscured his eyes.

Both men took one look at the Hellhill and decided that a longer walk would not be amiss. The streets were shadier and quieter along the Grove and Glen in any case.

After a while, Horace broke the silence. “What, precisely, was all that about, then?”

“Well, it would appear that we both got incredibly drunken last e'entide.”

“Clearly, but I was thinking more of that convoluted speech the sheriff gave about vanishing jewelry.”

A voice rang from somewhat off the street. “I'd be less worried about the sheriff and more worried about Bernadette Albright. She be on the warpath.”

Will and Horace turned to see Eskarina Nutter lounging against a tree. Will frowned slightly. “Wherefore?”

“Oh, something about getting married several times over without consulting her even once.”

“Will and I got married?” Horace asked.

Eskarina stopped propping up the tree and began ambling over to them. “Not to each other, at least by my witness. You may well have done, but I didn't officiate it. Here.”

Horace and Will looked blankly at the small proffered bottles.

“Meadowsweet, woundwort, elfin thyme, and roseroot, boiled in nettle tea. Unless thou would prefer to retain the sensation of thy skulls splitting.”

Will took both bottles with thanks and handed one to Horace.

Eskarina continued. “I also recommend hefty quantities of boiled water. I'd eat something as well, were I thee.” The wise woman started off.

“Hold a mome', who did we wed, then?”

Eskarina called back, “Oh, thou wilt run into them soon enough,” and was gone.

They stood a moment, then Horace spoke. “Will?”

“Aye?”

“Wherefore do we still do this on thy natal day?”

“In truth, friend, I know not.”

* * *

April 23rd , nighttime:

Will sobbed into Horace's shoulder as Horace patted his back.

“I shall never see Honey and Priscilla and Legg again. My only loves, and they are gone.”

Horace cast about for comfort words. What were those? He thought there there was supposed to be good for something, but he passed it by. It's alright to cry? He was fairly sure Will already knew that. I know not what thou art going through, yet I am here for thee? But he did know, though to a lesser extent, it seemed, and it was obvious that he was there for Will.

Giving comfort words up as a bad job, he sought instead for cheering words. “Will,” he said, “I promise to spend the rest of the night, if need be, in finding thee a pet.”

Will sniffed. “Really?”

“Aye, verily!”

Will considered for a moment, then his face crumpled anew. “'Twill be of no use, we cannot replace Honey and Priscilla and Legg.”

“Nay, we shall not be replacing them,” Horace insisted, talking with his hands despite being in the midst of a hug. “We shall be seeking thee an additional companion, one to keep thee company until Honey and Priscilla and Legg might join thee.”

Will gave this some thought, eventually straightening up and looking Horace in the face. “Thou meanst it?”

“Aye, of course!”

Will's face split into a grin. “Oh, Horace, thou art the truest of friends!” he cried out as he hugged him again. After drawing away, he said, “Now, where are we to search for such a companion?”

Horace reflected, then his face lit up. “I believe I've an idea.”

* * *

April 24th , mid-morning:

They had hoped to make it quietly back to the Tanningrove homestead to at least recover, if not piece together what they might of the night before, but they hadn't gone more than a few paces before Douglas Johnson trotted up.

“Morrow to thee,” he called. “Much obliged for springing me a few days early like that. Shan't have to miss the next guild meeting now.”

Horace, still making faces over the less-than-savory taste of Eskarina's hangover antidote, said in a degree off from sarcasm, “Oh, aye, glad we could help.”

Douglas peered at Will for a moment. “You, er, I'm guessing that you don't remember. To be expected, I suppose. Well, you were clearly drunk at the time, so I don't think it would count anyway, I, er, I bid thee good day.” He hurried off.

“What on Earth?” began Will.

“I do believe you may have married Douglas last night,” said Horace.

Will was silent for a moment. “Ah.” he said at last. “Well, that is to say, I mean, I'm sure he's right, it likely counts not. I'm going to.... ” He gestured vaguely to continue walking.

* * *

April 23rd , nighttime:

Within an enclosure lay many small white hillocks. As they climbed the wall, Will took in the sight and murmured, “Who hath been unhooking the clouds without my permission to put them in the pasture in the guise of snow?”

Horace laughed. “Nay, good Will, these be not snow, but the fluffiest earthbound of God's creatures: Sheep!”

Will gazed upon the critters, then strode over to one and tentatively petted it. His face lit up. “'Tis the softest thing I e'er have touched!”

Horace grinned. “Unhooked clouds indeed.”

Will buried his face in the sheep, which gave a small bleat. “'Tis so fluffsome I believe I shall perish!” He tore himself away and darted to another sheep. “But thou art also so fluffsome as to beget my death!” Then another. “And thee! They're all.... How am I to decide?”

“Which one hath the best name?”

Will deliberated, then shook his head, blinked at the unexpected dizziness, and stopped. “I cannot discern their names here. We must take them to better lighting that I may see them more clearly.”

Horace thought for a moment. “The village lantern, perhaps?”

“Aye, that's it! We shall take them to the lantern.”

Horace nudged a sheep experimentally. It gave a bit of a bleat, and eventually began moving. Between the two of them, they managed to direct the three sheep to the gate, which they had completely missed on their way in and were, after some fumbling, able to open. Once all were through and the gate closed, they set about clumsily herding the sheep to the village proper.

After some time, Horace remarked, “Ought we have some means of telling them apart until we get there?”

Will thought a moment, then said, “We shall number them.” He drew from his pouch a bottle of ink. Using his fingers, for quills are hardly suited to write on wool unwoven, he rather unsteadily traced a '1' on the back of the first sheep he'd seen. He stood for a moment, apparently lost in thought. Horace eventually nudged him, and Will started and returned to his task, daubing a '3' and a '4' on the backs of the other sheep. Wiping his hand on the side of sheep number four, he resealed the bottle with some difficulty and replaced it in his pouch.

They successfully guided the sheep some distance more, within the village itself, before the animals spotted a flowerbed laden with green things fit for grazing. There they stopped and there they chomped, and neither Will nor Horace had the heart to move them on.

Will sighed and announced that he clearly was not meant to have so fluffsome a companion.

Horace was not deterred. “We shall take a few moments to collect ourselves,” he said, opening a bottle and passing it to Will, “then we shall set out once more. I've a notion near as fluffy and perhaps more interesting than sheep.”

***************

“Young Will, thou didst tell me there was a fire in the square.”

“Aye, mistress O'Bales, 'tis just there!”

“William, that be a lantern.”

“I– what?”

Emily pinched the bridge of her nose. “A lantern, Will. One of the village lanterns, what be lit all night? that folk might find their way despite the darkness?”

“....Oh. But there's burning.”

“I be goin' back to bed now.” She turned to leave.

A call sounded from across the square. “Will, I got them! It'll be sour grapes for th— good Lord, the square's aflame!”

Emily blinked, then dashed the contents of her bucket upon the miscreants before her. “I bid thee good night, good masters.”

***************

Horace wasn't overly sure that stopping in the stables was wise, not with Will pining after an animal companion as he was. Even in his state of dubious clarity, Horace had the wit to know that stealing a horse was foolish, with dangerous consequences, even for them, even drunk. But Will had insisted, and did not thus far appear in imminent peril of emotional distress. He was petting a dappled grey belonging to goodness knows whom, telling it that it was such a good horse, such a beautiful horsey, so smooth and wonderful, yes you are.

The beast Horace had sought to pet unequivocally wanted nothing to do with him, so he cast about for something with which to occupy himself. A saddle and assorted tack hung on the door to the stall before him, and he began idly examining it. He accidentally unhooked it after a moment, spent several minutes investigating how he'd done such a thing, and sought to hang it back up. But it refused to hang, or perhaps he lacked the necessary dexterity. Needing somewhere else to leave it, he unhooked a different set of tack, and placed the first where the second had been. Then he stared in confusion at this new mess of leather and buckles unexpectedly in his hands. What was to be done but shift a third to make room for this one? Yet even then, he was still left with a rogue saddle.

By the time Will had finished cooing over the grey, every set of tack in the stable had changed position, and Horace still stared at a set stubbornly in his hands. Fortunately, Will was better able to convince it to settle onto the remaining hook, and they left the stable in perfect order, so far as they could tell.

* * *

April 24th , mid-late morning:

Amy Cooper was looking with mild curiosity at a pig with the number '3' on its back rooting around a flowerbed when she caught sight of the bearers of the flower-crowns. Instantly, she marched up to them, and, pausing only for breath, launched into speech.

“In O'Malley's last e'entide, the both of thee did sort of say vaguely marriage-type vows at me. That is, I think they were marriage-ish. They were somewhat difficult to understand. The words were intelligible enough, but they had not much substance in the strung-togetherness of them. Thou,” and here she gestured to Horace, “did proclaim me the most creative practical-thinker, least ineloquent non-wordsmith, and most enthusiastic non-changeling thou e'er did meet; and Will here did declare of me that he could not wish for a better verbal-sparring partner with whom to maintain an unmalicious bitter rivalry, which at any rate I can agree with. I am here to clarify that unsolicited vows do not a wedding make, and that I be willing to pretend none of it happened.”

“Oh. We, erm—”

“Most well, never happened. I shall be on my way, I've some new square prototypes to build.” She turned and sped off steadily, leaving Will and Horace both some lesser version of gobsmacked.

“Well,” said Horace after a time. “At least we paid her sincere compliments.”

* * *

April 23rd , nighttime:

“Where are we bound?”

“Wherefore ought I know? I be following thee?”

“Thou art?”

“Aye, thou did speak of a new idea since the sheep and chickens and rats did not work out.”

“I.... I was following thee. I must have forgot.”

There was a silence as they pondered the implications of this, then—

“Then I believe we are lost.”

Will thought on that, and said, “Then we shall have to use our wits and become unlost. We are both intelligent enough folk, are we not?”

“Decidedly,” replied Horace.

Will began to pace. “There be no buildings, nor firelight; thus we must be outside the village proper a good bit.”

“Indeed.”

“There be trees all about us. Mayhap we strayed into the forest?”

Horace considered this, then shook his head, frowned, and quickly stopped. “Nay, for look, the sky be too visible. The trees be not near enough one another.”

“Ohhhhhh.”

“What, what's the thing where there's trees and they're tame and orderly and they grow things and someone looks after them?” Horace spoke with his hands, waggling his fingers as though he could grasp the truant term from the air.

Will mulled it over for some time, then said, “Orchid.”

“Aye, that's it! We must be in an orchid.”

Will thought some more, then moved toward one of the trees, and promptly slipped and fell.

Horace did not immediately see where he had gone. “Will? Will! Where art thou?”

“Merely fallen, but I have the answer. The ground be covered in apples. We be in an apple orchid.”

Horace considered that, then remarked, “Agnes's land be not far from some of mine own. I could more easily get my bearings there.” He held out a hand, and Will hoisted himself up.

“Let us skirt the fence until we find a path.”

They walked for several minutes, working their way toward what they hoped was a fence. The wind rattled the budding branches above their heads and close by their faces. At length, Horace said, “Will, it be thy natal day, aye?”

“Aye.”

“And thy natal day be in April.”

“Last that I did to make note.”

“Most well. But the last I did to note, apples grow not in these early months. Nor should they remain on the ground unrotted through all the winter.”

“Yet what I slipped upon was certes an apple, and as fresh and finely-formed as any e'er I saw.”

They slowly turned and looked back into the shadows of the orchard. The full moon cast twisted echoes of the branches, warping the ground into an unknowable writhing latticework. Suddenly, a sharp giggling cry pierced the air, and a glint as though of fangs caught their eyes from the foot of the tree under which Will had fallen. Both men started, calling out in alarm, then turned and fled as swift as their staggering steps might take them.

***************

“I hardly realized cows were so morose.”

“Moo.”

“See what I mean? Didst thou hear what she said, Will? She believes life is pointless.”

Will was across the field a way, in a different pasture entirely. “This one over here is despondent, but only because she cannot be with the love of her life. It's so sad, Horace, it's like R and J but worse.”

“Moo.”

“That is what I say, friend, 'tis not fair.”

By this time, Horace had joined Will, which included tripping over a fence. “What be her name?”

Will thought a moment. “This one be Ariadne. Her love, to whom you were just speaking,” he gestured, “is Meredith.”

Horace considered the prospect. “Were we to unite them, Meredith would stop being so morose.”

“We shall! 'Tis what they deserve.”

The two stumbled to the fence, where they puzzled over the ingeniously-constructed beams. It took at least ten minutes to divine how the beams connected and how to remove a few. These they tossed to the side, along the rest of the fence.

“Go, Ariadne!” Will called triumphantly. “Go meet thy love!”

Ariadne considered him, then turned around and continued sleeping.

Will nodded understandingly. “She wants her beauty sleep first, of course.”

“But once she's slept, she will join Meredith?”

“Of course. And A and M shall be united, and 'twill be most beauteous.”

“Moo,” said Meredith.

“Thou hast the right of it.”

* * *

April 24th , mid-late morning:

They did not cross paths with Theresa Ratchet until they'd passed by most of the shops and into the more residential area. She sat outside her little hut, the spic-and-spanness of which juxtaposed almost harshly with her appearance, repairing a trap. When she caught sight of the bedraggled duo, she smiled broadly and waved, calling out, “Good morrow to thee, good masters! And twice o'er to thee, Will!”

Will returned the wave. “God save, Theresa. I don't suppose I married thee last night, by any chance?”

Theresa's smile, if possible, widened. Several more gaps showed. “Aye, that thou did, good sir!”

“Ah,” he said, barely fazed at this point. “Sorry about that.”

Theresa waved it off. “Nay, 'tis most well. 'Tweren't more than vows, for thou wert clearly – what be that modern phrase? – drunk off thine arse.”

Will made to respond, but Horace hustled him along. “Best not hang about long enough for her to notice that we sprang some of her traps,” he muttered.

“Oh! Aye, not that I recall doing such a thing, nor indeed see how thou could recall it; but aye.” In a loud voice, he added, “Well, if there's no harm done, we shall be on our way. Eskarina suggested something called 'hydration'? We be on our way to try it out. Anon!”

The ratcatcher gave another wave and returned her attention to her traps.

* * *

April 23rd , nighttime:

After much struggle, Horace succeeded in undoing the shutters of his storeroom window, and he and Will climbed in. Climbed is a generous term, of course, for it was more akin to stumbling and staggering and even falling; but the point is, they made it through the window.

After some more fumbling, Horace declared, “The lamp hath vanished.”

Will, who was admittedly less familiar with the room, but had spent enough time there to have at least a working knowledge of it, added, “I believe the door hath moved, as well.”

“First my keys and now this.” Horace felt the walls. “Why is there so much dust? And what are these, chisels?”

Will snapped his fingers. “I have it! We be in the wrong building.”

Horace pondered this for a long moment. At last, he replied. “That....would rather explain wherefore none of my keys fit the door.”

Will's eyes had by now adjusted somewhat, and by the light of the moon shining through the casement, he managed to find a lamp. Several attempts with flint and steel later, they had it burning. Its light revealed shelves covered in tools, dust, rock fragments, and half-formed figures. Horace stared long an hard at a mallet before finally declaring, “I fancy we be in Millicent Goodenstone's workshop.”

Will did not seem to hear him. His eyes, wide and shining once more, rested on an unshaped stone somewhat smaller than his fist, which the lamplight had caught. He drew near it almost unconsciously.

“... had best leave a note and withdraw the way we arrived,” Horace was saying. “What're you....”

Will slowly touched the rock, then picked it up. “This.... This is it,” he whispered reverently. “My new companion, to tend mine heart until Honey and Priscilla and Legg may join me.” He gently caressed the stone. “What thinkst thou of Petra? Obvious, I know, yet it suits them.”

Horace had by this time joined him. “Petra the pet rock,” he said experimentally. “Know you, I believe that suits them delightfully.”

Will broke into a delighted grin. “We've done it! You did it! You found me the perfect pet!” And threw his arms once more around Horace, who gasped in pain when Petra whacked him in the side.

***************

“What in God's name dost thou think thou art doing!??!!!” The bellow awoke Horace with a start. In the pale light of barely-dawn, he could make out the form of Rosalind Anne Uxbridge towering over him, clutching a rake and quivering with rage.

“Knowst thou how long I have spent caring for these blossoms? The ones thou seemst to have mistaken for a mattress?”

Horace looked about and began to piece things together. He'd clearly passed out in a flowerbed, one of Rosalind's many prized patches. He cast about for Will but saw him not. “Where, what hast thou done with Will?” he asked.

“Change not the subject!”

The gravity of the situation downed on Horace. He was without ally in the midst of a garden he'd ruined, with naught betwixt him and the gardener's fury save his own wit. And just that moment, he felt he hadn't an ounce of wit to his name.

He struggled to his feet, desperately playing for time. “Now, erm, see here Rosalind, er, this is clearly a– a mistake of some sort, and if thou will but give me a mome', or several, I can explain myself and the context of this whole affair most succinctly. Or somewhat succinctly. I do not feel overly succinct at this particular moment. What must be understood...” He was standing, he'd more or less gotten his bearings, and he'd pieced together a plan. Without warning, he shot off, ducking the blow of the rake, and ran as fast as his shaking legs would carry him to the jailhouse, where he pounded the door, yelling, “Sheriff! I must report an incident of public drunkenness, accidental trespassing, and general bad behavior!”

* * *

April 24th , late morning:

At long last, Horace and Will made it to the Tanningrove homestead. Jack was out front, ostensibly weeding the small vegetable garden, but more probably waiting for them to put in an appearance. Sure enough, when he saw them approaching, he looked at his father and simply said “Why.” before turning and leaving, weeding abandoned.

Well, it was a reasonable enough reaction to their understanding of how the boy's father had spent his night. They made no move to stay his departure, instead continuing into the blessed dimness of the indoors.

At a table in the parlor sat John Hopfield, a cup of something in front of him. Upon hearing their entry, he looked up, and then beamed.

Horace stopped in his tracks. The color drained from his face.

“Oh.” he said.

Will looked from Horace to John several times, his mouth slightly agape, his sodden-but-drying mind working furiously. Finally, it clicked. “Oh my God,” he said quietly.

“Hello, Horace!” Had he not been sitting, John would've been bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Horace swallowed nervously and suddenly wished he had a hat to twist about in his hands. “Did– that is– erm, good morrow John. I.... ” And now his face was flushed as red as any of his wines.

John's face fell almost imperceptibly, but in a manner more resigned than disappointed. “You don't remember.”

“Erm, quite frankly no, I do not; but I can see it plain enough now, for all my fogged mind.” His hands, desperate to fidget, found their way to his flower-crown and began idly shredding a bloom.

John nodded. “Well, I know not that Eskarina's officiation be technically binding, so.... ” He trailed off.

“That's, erm.” Horace fiddled with the petals he'd pulled from his crown, seven in all. “That's probably for the best, I suppose.”

“Aye.”

There was a long silence. Will looked from John to Horace to the door, torn between fascination and social discomfort at the scene unfolding before him.

Horace shifted his weight. “I mean, it isn't that I'm strictly opposed to the notion, per se,” he semi burst out at length. “I'm not. But, I mean, I wasn't planning on it. At least not yet.”

Now even John was fidgeting, tracing the edge of the cup in front of him. “We– there wasn't, erm, that is — it weren't binding in the eyes of anyone, if thou takest my meaning,” he said awkwardly, blushing. “Thou wert clearly drunk, of course there wouldn't be....”

Horace took some time to process that. “I don't think I would have thought there was, had I known of this before now and thus had time to consider the possibility,” he said at length, now idly crumpling the petals in his hands, “yet I thank thee for, er, for clarifying it.”

Another silence, possibly even more awkward than the first, hovered between them. Making up his mind, Will carefully asked, “Horace, doest thou want me here just now?”

Horace started, reminded of his friend's presence. “Quite possibly not.”

“Most well.” Will nodded despite his splitting skull and turned immediately for the door. “I shall meet back up with thee perhaps around suppertime, then? To piece together, erm,” he glanced at John, “what remains to piece together.”

Horace waved vaguely in confirmation as Will hastened out the door, then looked back at John, still crumpling petals.

After a beat, John said, “As far as piecing together thine evening goeth, there be one or two other things thou likely ought to hear. In fact, I think mayhap thou had best sit for this.”

Several expressions crossed Horace's face, most notably steely resignation and dread. He slowly pulled a stool over and lowered himself onto it. “Yes?”

“When we, erm.... When thou didst marry me, thou also did to marry Stella.”

Horace relaxed. “I was honestly expecting far worse.”

“And then Sherry was jealous, so Stella and I married her after you left.”

Horace's face remained unchanged but for the widening of his eyes and his color draining once more. “Oh God.”

John spoke again, this time more hastily. “And, well, thou knowst well what Sherry be like, and while I suppose I technically know not for certain, I think she mayhap be taking it seriously.”

“Oh God.”

“Indeed.”

Horace passed his hands over his eyes and remained thus a long silent moment, cobbling together words that would suffice. At last, a long, deliberate breath. “John, 'tis clear that we must needs discuss some things. I am like to be obliged to put my part through writing so as to hone my meaning.”

John gave a brief tender smile at that.

Horace removed his head from his hands and stood, slowly and carefully. “I swear I am not avoiding thee, and shall face this anon; but now I am going to find something to eat, and I am going to drink some cleaned water, and I am going to bed, for I be in no fit state just now to cope with much of anything, least of all our, erm, situation.”

***************

Will had so often trod the path from the Tanningrove homestead back to his own house – more accurately simply his parents house, now that he'd moved to London – that his feet steered him thus without conscious thought. When he did finally notice, he pressed on, for he truly needed sustenance 'ere he did aught else. Still, he reflected, he had best make his meal quick, for he had another matter to attend to as soon as he might; though he was yet uncertain whether he looked to it in apprehension, or in anticipation.

He glanced down at his wrist and the initials freshly written thereon. He hadn't even known the noble was in the area. He would've expected him to still be in Hunsdon this time of year.

End notes: (.....The More the Marrier geddit like 'marry'?)

Thanks so friggin' much for reading! This, the first PARF fic I ever finished, was incredibly difficult to write. Not only was it a different style and tone to anything I've ever written before, but I began it after not writing anything (beyond journaling and approximately five textposts) for six months. Thus, my first draft was the shittiest shitty first draft I e'er have made, the writing clunky and ill-fitting and excruciatingly slow. There's a reason it took me a year.

Please, please, please leave a comment! A line you really liked, a weak phrase, a character voice I absolutely nailed, typos and other corrections, something you found funny. Reactions, impressions. I cannot become a better writer without feedback. At least leave kudos if you enjoyed it.

I'll be recording a podfic of this work over the next who-knows-how-many days, and will link it here when it's done. Please note that I have zero notion of a timeline for that project.

In the meantime, notes on the content of this fic.

Much of the style and tone of this piece was inspired by the Storytime: Voltron is (Basically) a Disaster series by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle. The scene with the forge kittens was based line-for-line on Basically Under Arrest (Part 1).

I have never been drunk or hungover, nor witnessed the same firsthand for any extended time. This is based on other media representations of drunkenness.

The astute reader will notice that I mingle more modern methods of speech with the more Elizabethan dialogue. This was intended to mimic the manner in which the actors do exactly that, particularly in interactions.

The notion of Sheriff Perry taking valuables from an arrested Will was derived from streetwork in week one, in which a rumor went around that the sheriff was taking money from his prisoners. The wording of the rumor was ambiguous, and could've meant either stealing or accepting bribes.

Will abruptly and ardently claiming credit for pranking the sheriff was inspired by Trial and Dunke closing weekend, when Will flung himself enthusiastically at punishment in Horace's stead. I like the idea of Will recklessly throwing himself in potential harm's way for people he cares about, particularly for things of low consequence that everybody treats as though they are serious.

The idea of someone's drunk self pranking their sober self came from a Text From Last Night I have saved somewhere on my external hard-drive and cannot currently be bothered to find.

Streetwork on closing day indicated that the R and J play had been picked up by a producer in London, and that Will would be relocating there shortly.

To be clear, yes, I know the difference between Scylla (six heads, monch monch) and Charybdis (whoosh whoosh, motherfucker). Horace and Will are drunk.

For folk not present at PARF 2017, the cat sìth is explained in this Myths and Legends Finale.

I am neither herbalist nor doctor. I decided on Eskarina's hangover antidote by googling “herbal hangover remedy” or something like that, and selected some plants that I think would've been available in England at the time. I know not if they can be safely mixed, nor even if they would taste foul if they were. I also cannot vouch for their effectiveness.

You will note that I spelled the fire brigade's name as “Emily O'Bales” although it is spelled as “Emily O. Bales” in the program. I altered the spelling thus because I frequently heard her referred to as “mistress O'Bales”, but cannot recall ever hearing he called “mistress Bales”. If the cast made a mistake, I fear it was made to such an extent as to eclipse the technically-correct version.

Are village lanterns a thing? I've heard the term and it makes sense as a thing, so I went with it.

The notion of our Amy Cooper building square barrels came from an episode of QuaranTeatime in which it was mentioned that Amy was expanding her trade into crate-making. She would totally call them square barrels, though.

Speaking of QuaranTeatime. Numbered animals with one creature less than the highest number were brought up in a QuaranTeatime episode as something that was happening in Mount Hope. However, I had planned it into the story before they brought it up.

To be clear, yes, I know the difference between 'orchard' and 'orchid', as you will gather if you note that I spelled it correctly the one time it was in narration and not speech. Will and Horace are drunk.

If you never heard the tale of the wereapple, I'm sorry, idk how to help you.

Horace and Will are in no danger of being mistaken for burglars or anything when they break into Millicent Goodenstone's studio. Streetwork on closing day revealed that Millie was going to travel to Bath to further train and become a real master stonecarver, so this particular home would have been unoccupied at the time.

I am confident that I captured the voices of almost all the characters herein. The exception is Rosalind Anne Uxbridge, whose voice I had great trouble summoning to my mind. I hope I did her justice, and apologize profusely if I did not.

“...it weren't binding in the eyes of anyone, if thou takest my meaning”. The meaning here, of course, is, “It wasn't binding in the eyes of the law because we didn't go through the proper channels, and it wasn't binding in the eyes of God because we didn't fuck.” (The notion that marriage must involve genital muckery in order to be recognized by the Divine is, of course, rubbish, but the idea was prevalent at the time.)

A note on Tanninghop. I both do and do not ship it. If I may be allowed to quote one of my posts: “Whether deliberately or incidentally, the actors subtly play the dynamic [between Horace and John] just a little bit differently every day. Some days, they are as they appear in the plot’s basic premise: two individuals caught in baseless inherited hatred. But sometimes, it seems they were childhood friends before becoming caught in that inherited hatred. Some days, they are exes, the animosity between them potentially beginning with their breakup. A few times, it has seemed that the feud began with the two of them over some petty squabble in like third grade, and merely expanded from there. Once or twice, they inherited the hatred, but each harbors a repressed attraction to the other. Occasionally, they’ve even been secret lovers in the midst of the feud. Watching their interaction has become my favorite part of Queen’s Court, and I always look forward to divining what their exact relationship is on any given day.” Historically, I have always been trash for a unified canon, a specific continuity (or as much of one as is possible in repeated improvised interactive theatre). But in 2019, I fell deeply in love with the kaleidoscope of subtle differences in day-to-day dynamics. Not just in love with each individual dynamic, but in love with the kaleidoscope as a whole, and with the very notion of that kaleidoscope. I thus have no set headcanon about their relationship through which I interpret their story: I have a dozen. That being said, John and Horace are totally in romantic-love in this fic. However, this fic is not canon to my interpretation.

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fordboyle · 3 years

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Yandry stole a glance at Septa Lemore from time to time as he was checking the lines. * * * You have made that resolution absolutely necessary to the quiet of the South! But you now revoke that resolution! And you pass the Rubicon! Let me not be misunderstood. Any one who should have travelled in the cars at that time might have seen a venerable-looking black man, all izraeli kézműves ékszerek whose air and attitude indicated a patient humility, and who seemed to carry a weight of overwhelming sorrow, like one who had long been acquainted with grief. Prince Valkovsky had a rather large flat, though he lived alone. Bailey, to help me out of it. Headlines: Brittany Murphy to be buried today after private funeral; father plans to skip service. In lieu of flowers, donations to Heart Stroke Foundation or the Northumberland Humane Society would be greatly appreciated.. Maesters are supposed to put aside old loyalties oneil mellény when they don their chains, but I cannot forget that Theomore was born a Lannister of Lannisport and claims some distant kinship to the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. He took my hand and began to press it in his. But this feeling soon passed off. My son’s men have searched every inch of that damp and dreary island and turned up not so much as a single gemstone or speck of gold. Joins seven other states that have beefed up security measures for National Guard members.Many of those states governors signed executive orders in the days following the Chattanooga shooting. For notwithstanding nike jean jacket (for some purposes) a slave is regarded by law as a person, yet generally he is a mere chattel personal, and his right of personal protection belongs to his master, who can maintain an action of trespass for the battery of his slave.

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