art blog(derogatory)
blake kathryn
Not today Justin
DEAR READER
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
oozey mess
Kaledo Art
Origami Around
occasionally subtle
No title available
Misplaced Lens Cap
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
KIROKAZE
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
wallacepolsom
Stranger Things
PR's Tumblrdome
sheepfilms
almost home
macklin celebrini has autism
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@alphacarrot
since i haven’t seen this floating around tumblr i figured i’d post it!! the link on the tweet is broken but this one works too
and as a reminder to the lovely gringos who follow me
(that’s a british pound my google is in portuguese srry)
your money is worth a lot here
they need 1 million brazilbux. less than $200k USD. very doable, let’s do it
IF YOURE EGYPTIAN AND LGBTQ+ GET OFF ANY QUEER DATING SITES, THE POLICE ARE TRACKING AND HUNTING PEOPLE DOWN AGAIN. DELETE YOUR ACCOUNTS.
This is very real.
https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.nbcnews.com/feature/nbc-out/amp/human-rights-groups-urge-egypt-halt-crackdown-gays-n806641
I DON’T CARE IF YOU HAVE ONLY ONE FOLLOWER PLEASE EVERYONE REBLOG THIS!!!
THIS POST IS SCEDULED TO GO UP ONCE AN HOUR ON THIS BLOG UNTIL 24 HOURS SINCE THE FIRST POST BECAUSE IT’S THAT IMPORTANT THAT EVERYONE SEES IT!
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REBLOG EVERYONE EVEN IF YOU ONLY HAVE ONE FOLLOWER
How come Tony Stark gets to fight villains naked all the time in the comics but not in the movies? I am being denied my rights!
Umm OP I need some evidence (PICTURES GIVE ME PICTURES)
Never let it be said that I don’t give the people what they want (UNLIKE SOME PEOPLE *side eyes Marvel*)
A better question is why the fuck is he naked under his armour?? Wouldn’t that hurt? If you wanna get stark naked he’s gotta have clothes to begin with
i can’t believe op didn’t include avengers prime, which is perhaps my favorite instance of Naked Tony Stark™
JUST DO IT MARVEL! IT’S THE LEAST YOU CAN DO AFTER THE BULLSHIT THAT WAS THE LAST 3 AVENGERS MOVIES
Omg. Its back.
So thats where we got the term ‘Stark Naked’ literally naked Tony Stark omg im wheezing
it got better
I’m sorry, are you telling me there was an occasion where a naked Tony Stark flicked a flower and a few blades of grass at a someone and got a reaction that wasn’t “are you serious”???
@tralfazziod
#you know who would put the irondick in? taika #he would put the most glorious stark naked u ever saw in a4 I stg
This person knows what they’re talking about
Bless me.
This is the most ridiculous thirst post ever. Thank you.
Give us the irondick.
Now that we’ve seen the bat dick, can we see the irondick?? I mean I know the batdick isn’t from the same universe but mARVEL, IF DC GAVE US WHAT WE DIDN’T WANT WHY CAN’T YOU GIVE US WHAT WE WANT???
It’s occurred to me that RDJ might be uncomfortable doing this. Of course, the comfort of the actors is always a concern to me. As such, if it comes to that, I suggest either a body double or CGI.
RDJ would most likely be comfortable with it as long as he actual dick was covered.
He’s got mostly naked before.
I mean. His children are watching this movies if i were him i wouldn’t like them to see the irondick u know?
*winston duke voice* uhh this is a Disney movie
Viva le revoldicktion
*le gasp* ITS BACK!
This whole thread is amazing
if iron man was a girl this thread would not exist
You’ve chosen the wrong person — because not only am I bisexual, I am all for destroying this country’s weird discomfort with sex and nudity where graphic violence isn’t as bad as showing a butt for five seconds.
I dont know if I’m proud or dissapointed. This is the largest thread I’ve ever read , and it’s about Tony Stark’s dick.
Interesting question: Is this thread as long as the irondick? We don’t know because Marvel won’t show us!
The devil works hard …
but the leader of le Revoldicktion works harder
rdj has had his dick out on set for like the last 30 years that man don’t give a fuck. less than zero? naked fur? naked wonder boys? mostly naked friends & lovers? wearing panties and also naked restoration? he literally runs down a hall with nothing more than feathers? attached to his dick 1969? almost naked, runs around in his underwear sherlock holmes? mostly naked random photoshoots? mostly naked
he’d do a naked tony scene faster than you could say “give me the irondick”
Only thing stopping us now is Marvel. Now, I maybe only five feet tall and completely non-intimidating on a physical level, but for the Revoldicktion? You better your ass I would fight them and WIN.
Me trying to figure out why i’m following this account: Oh yeah this exists
THIS POST IS GONNA BE LONGER THAN
The IRONDICK
LONGERRRRR AND BIGGER AND BETTER
And good bye *Screee*
Good god y'all are thirsty
thirsty and proud
HELLO I AM IM AP LATIN MAYHAPS I CAN HELP @incorrect-ironstrange
“Superbus sitientique”
im so afraid, this post is radiating with a violent chaotic energy stronger than the god of lesbians himself,, please have mercy on my people q n q
But in the comics it never actually shows the dick so why are you saying that you deserve to see it?
This appears on my timeline at least twice a day and everytime I just sigh and go ‘it’s the fucking irondick post again’
And now you’ve helped make it longer. I want to use the ‘congratulations you played yourself’ image but that guy doesn’t go down on his wife so
Never let this dieeeee I see this at least 4 times a day and I’m blessed… Give me irondick or give ironstange hahaha COME ON MARVEL U pussy TRY ME
God U swear last time I saw this thread it was Much More shorter!
And Now it’s got up to 19200 notes!
And LOOK WHO STARTED IT :
@incorrect-ironstrange
Emphasize on
IronStrange
As an IronStrange fan & on behalf of its fans, You are very welcome
I see this post in a daily basis! I think it’s time for me to reblog it as well!
I too demand Irondick!
This is the longest post I’ve ever seen and it’s just pure thirst.
I love it!
I love how quickly this goes from “iron dick” to “destroy the norms” to “give me ironstrange” all the while keeping the actor(s) in question in mind and calling out Disney/Marvel’s shit without getting out of hand
Honestly, I loathe this post but I’m not gonna block it cause I feel like it’ll be important in the future. But I really hate the fucking irondick Post
It disappeared for a while from my dash, but now I understand. It was biding its time and growing more and more powerful.
I hate it and love it.
i think i’ve reblogged this about fifty times bec im scared that if i dont @incorrect-ironstrange will kill me
If I see this fucking post again…… @incorrect-ironstrange go sit in the corner and think about what you’ve done.
HELL YES THIS IS BACK ON MY DASH!!!!
TIME TO GIVE THE IRON DICK SOME MORE LENGTH..
Hoof….
That sounded much dirtier in text then it did in my head.
This post is a fucking monster and I’ve seen it raised from an egg.
It has been two weeks since this was last on my dash…. that’s a crime
God this is a long post and also I wanna see tony fight thanos bare naked if it is the last thing I ever see again
Longs posts give me anxiety for some reason so I’m literally dying cause of this post
Wtf is this
Make it longer. Make it thicc-er. Give it glory.
All Hail the IronDick. All Hail the RDJ. All hail the Revolution.
And if I die for this revolution, write the words on my tomb that Sydney Carton spoke: ‘It’s a far, far better thing I do than I ever have; It’s a far, far better rest I go to than I have ever known.’
Always remember
Let us never give in in these trying times
Viva le revoldicktion
Let the Irondick live on
Picture this: the year is 2020. Marvel has been decimated for not giving the public what they want and if you hear the chants, the terrible chants, of “irondick, irondick, irondick,” run. they are coming. pray you can escape.
Irondick surviving the purge is the greatest news I could have received today ❤️
What… what is this???
just wanna take a moment to appreciate the tags
are you all that horny for tony’s dick like honestly
you ain’t stephen
you ain’t gonna get it
This is the longest and most hilarious text post I’ve seen on this site. Wish luck to you thirsty bitches
This post is soooo looongggg
The
Dick
This is the first time I’ve seen this and it is so much worse than I could imagine
This gives me 2012 tumblr supernatural era vibes and I live for it
how is this the first time i’ve seen this…
This is actually my first time seeing this post…Viva la Revoldicktion just broke my naked Tony virginity
Maybe somewhere in the Multiverse, the writers of Deadpool are listening and will slip us some Iron Dick eventually!!!
So long as the multiverse exists, Tony Stark can never truly die, and neither can the *deep breath*
IRONDICK
still no irondick, but…
…what about crop top armor and iron garter stockings?
What’s the point of life without freedom
What’s the point freedom without choice
What’s the point of choice if we’re not Heard
#iron dick 2020
I relinquish my atheism in honor of the iron dick. I will only go down to my knees for iron dick (and ironstrange tbh)
Praise the dick
@ellisper sent me this, and I agree with them, this is definitely a joke about how huge the irondick is. I agree.
Omg this post went a full round and now its
back ans THICCER THAN EVER
Make👏This👏Post👏as👏long👏as👏Tony👏Starks👏Dick👏
Y'ALL REALLY OUT HERE TESTING MARVEL, DISNEY, TUMBLR, AND THE ENTIRE INTERNET FOR SOME DICK. i respect the grind.
“grind” you say? 👀👀
Its back… Its been so long
This is my first time seeing this post and it’s definitely one of the strangest things I remember seeing on this site.
three words: irondick arc reactor
You guys this is so close to 69000 notes! Please continue!
For the irondick!
Revoldicktion forever!
Its back on my dash after a year and half.
I’m Sad it took this long.
This took FOREVER to come back to my dash!!!!
this is the first time the irondick revolution has come to my dash. a lengendary post indeed. rumours of this i have heard, but never before have i seen with my very own eyes. ahhh
give us the irondick we deserve
I tried rebloging this and it froze my phone for 10 seconds, it’s too powerful
It’s irondick or nothing.
Are fedoras really that bad?
YES YES THEY ARE
voidethered:
ask-omnipony:
I don’t really believe this mumbo jumbo
I mean it’s a goddamn hat.
Right..?
The white rose, it symbolizes the unique beauty of all the women who wish not to be with a nice guy such as myse-
I wonder if this works with other kinds of hat…
Nothing ventured, nothing gained…
WHEEEN THE MOON HITS YOUR EYE LIKE A BIG PIZZA PIE THAT’S AMORREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Men of Tumblr are my favorite kind of people…
wait, does that mean?
oh boy…….
Luckily, this nonsense doesn’t work on girls.
Observe…
IT’S GOTTEN BETTER!
This post is immaculate
It can’t be true.
And it can’t possibly work on motorcycle helmets.
I must test it.
Nothing happening so far…
HOLY SHIT IT WORKS
What in the world?
Oh why not? This should be interesting.
Here we go!
Were all mad here in Underland!
What the hell! Never Again!
… Actually …
One more time.
Alright, I gotta try this!
Can’t be that bad!
….
…oh my god…
ask-gmodsfmrocks:
LOL
This just gets better and better
This is one of my favourite things to look at
holy shit this stuff is back
The Gravity Falls one though
i wonder if it works for flower crowns?
here goes nothin-
w HAT THE
DID I JUST-
WHAT THE FUCK
Okay Clearly something is up.
Hmm… I wonder
I’m sure nothing could possibly…
HOLY SHIT
IT GOT BETTER
I HAVE BEEN SEARCHING SO LONG FOR THIS POST OH MY GOD!!!
I wonder what happens when you wear 8 of these at once…
Never not reblog
IT’S ON MY DASH. ACTUALLY ON MY DASH.
Oh my God, there are so many new ones
Friggin, yis
Always reblog.
IT HAS EVOLVED
The legend marches on…
BEWARE THE MAGIC OF HATS
JDNXHSBSBF
I T ‘ S B A C K
a classic meme from when the world was less of a tire fire
ITS ON MY BLOG YESSSS
THIS IS WONDERFUL.
time to bring back outdated memes…
what could possibly go wrong?
eww, it smells like fuckboi
welp, down this rabbit hole we go…
nothing’s happeni-
WTF-
Oh boy, this meme
I wonder if this would work with a wolf hat.
May as well try it.
Please don’t be awful, please don’t be awful, please don’t b-
get wet 4 furry
This is obviously fake
Look, I’ll prove it
Y’all are just acting
Watch and learn
WTFFFFFF
Should…… should I…….
DO IT!
Whelp guess I gotta put on the hat now
Can’t be that bad, I mean what’s the worst a squid hat can do to m-
I̖̝̪̤̠̋͞ ̛̹̱̮̳̭̓̂͑ͫ͐̎ͯ͗͝͡H͇̠͊́̚A̛̓̓҉͙̠V͍̌̏͂ͣͨͭͧ̉́E̸͙̭̣͓̓ͨͥ̿ ̽͗͗ͮ͊ͬͩͥ̚҉̪̗̝̘̟́̕A̴̴̙̝̬̪̞͂ͤͩ̍W͚̣͆ͬỎ̫̝̟͖̝͇ͥ͛ͮ͋K̨̖͓͉̺̫͉̀͗ͪ̊͌̉E͚̲̩̪̘̠͋̈͞N͉͓͕̗̱͒̔ͨͤ͛̓̂ͧ
Holy shit this is getting so freaking better than I thought XD
I’m still waiting for someone to wear a cheese hat
do you ever get so annoyed at everything that you start to get pissed off at even little things like a spoon clinking against a bowl or sounds of people talking
I think it’s called sensory overload. It’s really common in people with anxiety
it can also be a result of sleep deprivation, stress, or ever dehydration !!
thanks i thought i was just a bitch
@mightbeinsaneforever I did too....
Cultural appropriation as a concept is bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit. I’m a person of colour, and I come from a culture that has been so homogenized into American culture that you can sometimes barely tell where one ends and the other begins. And you know what? That’s fucking awesome. I love knowing people enjoy the food from my culture. I love people enjoying the romance and history my people have contributed. The artists, the writers. The grand scheme of my culture. It’s beautiful. I love seeing people enjoying fashions made popular from my culture. I love seeing them enjoying our contributions to religion, even if I’m not religious myself. I think people that whine about cultural appropriation are sheltered shut-ins that often don’t consult the actual people they claim to be “protecting”. There’s a post on tumblr going around where people are ready to rip Lady Gaga a new asshole, and an Indian girl steps in and says “Wait a minute, did anybody stop to consult the actual Indians here?” Of course she goes on to explain that Indians find it overwhelmingly positive when people care enough about the culture to wear their clothing. It’s a sign that these people find their fashions beautiful enough to be of merit. It’s basically the best compliment you can pay someone, by saying with actions “Yes, you’ve created something beautiful here, I want to share this with others”.
It’s the same thing with Japanese culture as well. If anyone actually bothered to consult Japanese people that y'know, live in Japan, you would realize they have the same attitude that the Indians do. Wearing traditional clothing when appropriate and making an effort to learn the language is about the highest form of flattery there is. They’ll offer to help you with your Japanese if only you’ll allow them the chance to brush up on their English skills.
This is basically the same with nearly every culture. If you go to the homeland and ask the people what they think? They’ll reply that making an effort and showing reverence, no matter how casual it may seem, is seen as overwhelmingly positive. Not to mention tumblr likes to gloss over the fact that other countries borrow heavily from American culture (yes, we have a culture, and if you don’t understand that I urge you to go do a bit more studying on anthropology) as well. The world is slowly becoming a melting pot of ideas and lifestyles being merged and shared.
The only people I’ve seen against it are quite frankly, racists and segregationists, and a bunch of people on tumblr who want to be 2edgy4u. Here’s a hint: Just because you have African heritage, it doesn’t mean shit if you’re talking about cultural appropriation from Africa if you grew up in Alabama. If you have Japanese heritage, it doesn’t matter if you grew up in New York. You are American by culture. You do not know how these people live, nor how they view ‘cultural appropriation’. Your family may hold on to cultural customs that differ from those around you: I know mine do, I’m the child of first-generation immigrants who don’t even speak English very well, and often rely on me to translate as their only truly bilingual child (my older brother was born before they immigrated, and he’s still having a hard time grasping English). But I’m still an American before I am my ethnic background. So. Are. You. In fact, I would go as far as to say you’re insulting the people who are that heritage both by birth, ethnicity and culture. You are speaking OVER them, claiming that your word is law.
Stop it. Stop trying to paint cultural appropriation as this horrible thing. It’s not. Every culture in this world has “appropriated” shit to form what we now think of as the modern cultures. It’s all an amalgam. The Chinese could wage a cultural appropriation war against the Japanese for stealing basically the entire infrastructure of their ancient societies. The Romans stole basically everything from Greece. The Egyptians borrowed from Arabic, African, and Mediterranean cultures. Mexican art draws heavily from Spanish influences.
History has repeated itself over and over and over until we reached this very moment, and it will continue to repeat itself.
There is nothing wrong with keeping traditions alive, but this can exist side-by-side with “appropriation”. That Native American warbonnet isn’t any less special and culturally signifigant because someone wore feathers and beads in their hair to a music festival. Those kanzashi aren’t any less beautiful and unique because someone wore jeweled chopsticks on their head.
I have yet to see one argument against cultural appropriation (when I use this, I’m using the tumblr definition, which is basically “everything ever that didn’t come from people in your ethnic bloodline”) that doesn’t sound like a reactionary clutching their pearls and sobbing over Big Scary Change. Absolutely nobody is saying things like the Native American cigar store Indian are things that are cute or should stay around. But simply borrowing a hairstyle, outfit, language, food, entertainment, music, etc, from another culture?
Listen to those of us who actually have roots within the countries you’re claiming to fight for. Appropriation is overwhelmingly positive, and it’s often a chance for us to see our cultures influencing the dominant American culture. It’s a great thing to see, and it feels honest and right, considering we borrow an awful lot of American entertainment, food and culture ourselves.
Being part of the big melting pot is an honour. Stop trying to kick our ingredients out of the stew.
we are not born to die!! what are you talking about!! do you think a book begins just to finish? do you think a song opens with a beautiful chord just for it to end? you don’t read the book to finish it, you read the book to eat up the excitement and the emotions it evokes!! to learn and to digest and to fall in love and be heartbroken!! you listen to the song to dance and dance and sing your throat raw!!! to cry and smile and swell with the harmonies!! yes, we are born with the inevitable fate of death, we are mortal after all, but that is merely the finale of the play!! the final act, the closing of the curtains - we are not born to take a bow and exit stage left!! we are born to love and be joyous and yell and move and learn and cry and feelfeelfeel!!! we are not born to die, silly, we’re born to live!!!
I really needed that
Just an experiment. Reblog if you actually give a fuck about male victims of domestic violence and rape.
Of fucking course
What sick bastard doesn’t
“You’d be surprised”, said Xaldien, who just lost four followers and received a lovely “men can’t be raped” anon shortly after reblogging this the first time.
Yowch, disgusting.
If I don’t reblog this, assume I’m dead.
Always reblog this
If you Dont reblog this if u see it then i cant call u my friend
IF ANYONE TELLS ME THAT MEN CAN’T BE VICTIMS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AND RAPE, I AM SICKENED BY THEIR MERE PRESENCE ON MY BLOG.
If you disagree with me, unfollow my blog, block me and never look at my blog again.
If you want to debate about this or send anon’s about this, I will reply but your actions have consequences.
Out of 19000+ followers I have, only one of you actually reblogged about this issue, yet a lot of you have reblogged and liked a picture by playboy about catcalling and that how men should never do it.
Additionally, I have received abuse in my ask box (which I will be answering when I can) and threats. In particular death threats and rape threats.
I can see the real problem here already. Male domestic violence and rape is just invisible in our society because we don’t want to talk about this because it just damages the status quo of this fucking website.
I’m a male victim of child sexual abuse. We matter. Please, reblog this.
Male victim of sexual abuse here for many years. We exist, stop pretending we don’t.
Always reblog. Never forget.
A little story time, one day in highschool we were asked to come down to the theater hall so we could watch and listen to a presentation about rape, dating violence, sexual assault, etc. We were given examples of situations, stereotypical stuff like, girl goes to a party, gets drunk, is raped by a man, that kind of thing. It became clear to me is that woman were the main subject because never EVER in the speech did they mention a story of a man being sexually assaulted. It was always the woman, and when they asked for kids to help create situations of rape they always picked a boy to be the rapist. Then to end the presentation the speaker makes a ‘joke’, it goes like this. “So we all must do our best to stop sex trafficking and rape, and noooo we can’t kill all men *laughs*”. And of course a good percentage of the girls laugh like omg relatable.
They were an organization about teaching harassment to children and assisting sexually abused people and to think that one of the people trusted to teach about this holds the view that men are the reason that cause rape is disgusting. Perhaps the majority of rapists are men, but boys are sexually assaulted, abused, and raped too but because woman are the “majority” they don’t get to tell their stories and men and younger boys have been washed into this mentality that yeah they are the worst gender, that they are horrible people and don’t deserve to have a voice because they have been taught by woman to be that way.
So stop telling men they are rapists and can’t be victims of the things woman’s are victims of, because even if the majority of rapists are men, the majority of men are not rapists.
there is a website to find out how many goats you are worth
I am worth 6 goats.
I’m worth 8 goats and somebody’s sister
I’m worth 10 goats, what a confidence booster!
I’m worth 8 goats and some dudes brother
Comment your Birthday and see if you can find your Twin! 🦄
February 21st
April 19th
November 2nd
June 20
january 22 c:
March 5th :D
February 19th
February 28💕
July 18 💘
July 10th ✨
January 3rd
May 3rd🌞
May 2nd
June 2nd
@puppiestrology yeeee june 20
August 31st!
April 20th
May 10th
June 11th
@studiocake 😁😁 birthday twinsss
February 5th
December 12
July 15th
april 2nd
october 27th
December 11th
november 25!
July 31st!
May 9th!
September 11th…
January 12th 😞
November 7th 🙌
June 19th
May 8th
nov 28
january 20th
march 28th ayooo
June 16th!
January 2th
August 13
February 17th
September 14th
February 10th c:
August 4th
May 24th
February 8th
August 7th
October 4th
April 22nd
February 18th
december 26th
April 6th
13th November
May 12
October 13th
September 17th
March 13th anyone?
march 18!!
august 15
21 December 🌲
October 21st
January 9th
November 1st
@takingitontheotherside I’m November 1st too!
March, 30. Anyone?
October 10th anyone?
March, 11!
december 29th
October 2nd
January 1st
@betterthanyouineveryway close! August 3rd!
June 21 anyone?
Still no October 5th 😔
October 5thhhhhhhh
Aaayyyyyyeee we in this bih @kingwithouttacrown
January 7th
May 4th 💕
February 3rd ❤️💛💚💙💜
July 10th! And I already found my twin, @phangurl030
July 10th💕 twino who is also my mother : @sarahatesnothavingwifi :3
November 25 :D
February 11th
April 28th
June 25th ^-^
December 4th
September 4th! 😄
@squiggy7 twinssss ❤️^^
July 14th anyone?
September 9th!
March 10th!
Feb 22
@dave-grohls-bra December 21❄️
February 2nd!!
August 1st
March 15th
@nge-nerv I’m January 12th, too!!
October 04th
january 26th
April 1st
May 30th
I just got through this whole post and to all of the people born on the same day as me, heyy! *waves*
@valentinecake1
@mistralmadib
@justnotfeelingitrightnow
@shadowthieif117
@eileenthesansfan
@a-rabbit-named-snow
@yo-looksomeoneactually
@bugheadblr
@mariehearts302
@spooncryptid
@angelofdarkness190
@haanbeii
@firefox1526
@darkespeon11
@mangoall
@frostedtwinx
@thetwentyfirstartist
@stephaniereneeme
@xloving-me
@brallon-trash
@sarcasticshysociopath
@iniennue
@fhazel27
@flag-spinning-demiboy
@taekwonbro76
March 11th ??
June 12th?
July 19th uwu
August 20th???
December 15
I’ve seen March 28th and March 30th…but where’s March 29!!!
@eggeroni MAY 10
January 28
March 1 ~
December 17
Reptile Diversity in the United States.
nice
nice
nice
nice
Source: Instagram @c.hildhoodfeed
(Edit: the original source is from John Oliver’s show. Thank you to those who pointed it out 😊)
MAYBE YOU’LL TAKE THINGS MORE SERIOUSLY WITH BILL NYE SWEARING AT YOU.
Actions, we, the individuals can take:
-Pick up garbage in your local areas!
-Organize clean up comittees!
-Call your local politician (MPP/senate/whoever) to declare a climate emergency
-Join protests
-Volunteer for clean ups
-Spam your government/the UN about this
-Raise awareness
Actions for our governments to take:
-Listen to the people you claim to fight for
-Take decisive action
-Stop caring about the costs jfc the world is ending
Things to do to help save the fuckin’ planet
1. Hang clothes out to dry inside or outside your home
2. Use cloth napkins that are washable/reusable
3. Make sure your home is properly insulated - this’ll be cheaper in the long run too
4. Buy rechargeable batteries
5. Always reuse plastic bags, don’t buy new ones, invest in cloth bags/tote bags/reusable bags
6. Reduce the physical mail you get - ask for emails instead
7. Use matches rather than plastic lighters
8. Buy cotton swabs with paper rather than plastic
9. Buy plants for your house or garden
10. Go to the library or buy second-hand books from charity shops, online etc.
11. Donate things on Facebook, freecycle etc - someone else might need your junk
12. Buy biodegradable dog poo bags
13. Avoid beef and lamb for yourself and your pets - it’s the worst meat for the environment
14. Buy biodegradable baby wipes
15. Try meat-free days, try good vegan alternatives or even go vegetarian (hit me up for tips and recommendations)
16. Decline plastic straws in restaurants or bring your own reusable ones
17. Buy a reusable travel mug - places like Costa and Starbucks give you money off if you bring your own mug!
18. Donate old towels, blankets, bedding etc to dog/cat shelters
19. Buy local produce when available
20. Buy coffee and chocolate that says it protects the rainforests e.g. Fairtrade
21. Switch the plugs off at the wall before you leave the house/while you’re asleep
22. Take your phone to a recycling centre when you get a new one
23. When at ATMs or self-checkouts, don’t print your receipts or ask for them to be emailed instead
24. Turn off your car while waiting to pick someone up
25. Use sites like FreeRice.com and Ecosia to plant trees and donate rice to the hungry
26. Grow your own food - it’s cheaper
27. Eat less meat and dairy!
28. Take shorter showers
29. Use leftover water to water your plants - like the strained water from cooking vegetables
30. Turn off the lights when you’re not in the room
31. Buy energy-efficient bulbs
32. Turn off the tap while you’re brushing your teeth
33. Take public transportation, car share, walk or cycle
34. Recycle - can’t believe I have to say that one
35. Try composting
36. Go to charity-shops, second-hand stores, thrift stores or whatever they’re called - use Depop, Ebay etc. and buy second-hand
37. Donate and sell on rather than throwing away
38. Freeze food before it goes bad - fruit, veg, bread etc. and leftovers
39. Get a reusable water bottle - stop buying plastic bottles
40. Get out and vote, go to protests, sign petitions online, email local businesses
Reblogging because I’m tired of this unnecessary waste.
A faerie introduces himself. Then, holding out a hand, asks, “And your name, please?”
And, like a fool, you give it to him.
I got asked for clarification on this (but can’t reblog that particular post cuz on mobile), which I’m more than happy to provide.
In this post, a faerie is asking for ‘your’ name. The way he is wording it, however, and the accompanying beckoning motion, makes it seem as though he is asking for you to physically hand your name over. Which, because of how some faeries operate, he is.
In this instance, saying your name aloud to the fae would be literally giving your name over to him, the exact consequences of which are left up to the imagination–usually, a fae even knowing your name gives it some measure of power over you, but giving something your name would likely let it completely take over your life.
In this instance, the wording you want to use is something like “I will not give you my name, but I will tell you that it’s [name].” Alternately, you can just lie to him.
Might i suggest the less direct yet still name-preserving “you may call me…”? It dodges the request while still giving an answer of a name, which does not even have to be yours, but any name you feel like telling the fae they can use to refer to you. I would recommend “Ainsel”.
The first time he asks for your name is the first time you meet him. He appears as you walk by the færie ring, that you have not entered because your grandmother has repeated so many times not to do so, and, curious of your presence, watches as you jump when you notice him.
You recognize him instantly. It is the Fæ whose influence your village is under, the one the elders have told you and your friends to be wary about, for the people who have been seen walking away with him have never come back.
You don’t know what he does to them. The villagers have never dared to confront him about it, never dare to address to him at all. He is not evil: he sometimes speaks blessings upon the cattle, talks the horses to calm after a storm, ensures a good harvest for the farmers, makes the flower bloom in spring even when the weather is still too cold. He is, simply, a Fæ, whose ways humans cannot understand.
“Hello, little one,” he says as you stand very still, back straight, hands fidgeting with the fabric of your skirt.
You do not go away - you cannot. This, your grandmother has taught you, would be considered as an offense, and you could be cursed, or he could take out his wrath onto the village. You do not shy away from his stare, however, even not knowing if this will displease him or not. You are eight, have the courage and the recklessness of your childhood innocence, the boldness of those who have not yet learnt how to fear; but you have been warned against the Fæs, who like to toy with humans and play tricks upon them, so you do not defy him either.
He walks up to you. You pray he will stay in the færie ring, as it feels like a protection, and fortunately, he does. He isn’t too malicious to the youngest ones, you have been told once - just do not know if this is true or not. You knew a girl your age called Nimia, that has been caught a year ago, and she has never come back to the village, and her parents have cried all week cursing the Fæ.
You summon to your memory everything your grandmother has taught you to ward off Fæs, and protect yourself against their tricks. You do not want to be the next Nimia.
He introduces himself as Áed, although you suspect it is merely a nickname. Then, holding out a hand, he asks, “And your name, please?”
There is your grandmother’s warning at the back of your head: names give power over people. The Fæ is asking you to literally give him your name, and who knows what he’ll do with it - he might as well use it to take you away, like he surely did to Nimia. To all the people who have never been seen again. To your own mother, two years after you were born, even though she was too clever to be caught by a Fæ’s trick.
So you remain quiet, watching him with wide eyes, until his own stare darkens, and he shakes his hand under your nose.
“Your name, little one.”
You pull yourself together. He might curse you if you don’t answer. You gather your courage, and, with the spontaneity of children who have freedom in their veins and do not bend to rules, you stretch out your hand back without touching his.
“I am sorry, lord Fæ. I haven’t heard you very well. Can you give me your name, please?”
He looks at you with surprised amusement. “Oh, well played, little one. You’re clever. Just for this one, I will let you go.”
He retreats his hand, and you scramble back as quickly as you can, bowing to him clumsily before taking your leave.
You had passed by the færie ring to go the well to wishes, even though the elders forbid the youth its access, disobedient little child that you are. You just wanted to wish for your father to let you wear your mother’s necklace - ‘not yet’, he always says, ‘when you are thirteen’. You forget about going there, after this encounter. You go back home, and your grandmother scolds you for having been gone for so long.
You do not tell her about the Fæ. She has already lost her daughter to him. If she knew he had tried to lure you, you would not be able to leave the house again - and you value your freedom too much for that.
The second time he asks for your name, you are fifteen, and you have ran to the well to wishes again, forgetting the elders’ warnings. You have sworn to yourself you would not go back home anyway. You are not sure what you want to wish for, but at least for all this pain within you to fade; just to be more, or maybe less, like your mother, to accept the village’s rules better, to simply fit in and be happy that way.
Eyes full of tears, breath uneven, barefooted on the grass, your mother’s necklace beating against your chest as run, you have not made a detour to avoid passing by the færie ring. You trip and fall in front of it, and Áed finds you curled there, crying and cursing to the world.
“Those are not pretty words,” he says.
You freeze. You push yourself on your elbows, sees the færie ring, feels dread slip into your head. It is only the second time you see him, and you are not a child anymore. You have learnt to fear.
The Fæ, who has taken Nimia, then Lettie, on the day of her wedding, and even the old Mack, hovers over you curiously, at the edge of the færie ring. You remember to keep still, not to offend him. You feel the fear you should have felt when you were eight; and yet again, as tonight sadness and despair have already filled your heart, you do not manage to remain terrified.
“I don’t care,” you answer, sitting on your knees.
He finally sits down, too. He does not talk, so you do not feel compelled to talk either, and silence stretches between you for a while.
“Were you going to the well to wishes?” he asks eventually. You nod. “It does not work anymore. Whatever you wish for, it will not grant it.”
You feel your chest tightening.
“You might not say the truth.”
He smiles. “Indeed. I might not. But you can try yourself.”
It might have been his way to allow you to leave - but you do not find it in yourself to do so. You are tired. You have run as fast as you could from your home. Your grandmother must be worried about you, and she will probably never let you stray from the village again. Your father’s shouts still resonates in your ears, saying you are not a good daughter, that you will never be, asking why you feel such a need to always run free, just like your mother, then asking why you cannot be her.
You know you should listen to your elders, tame yourself, learn to properly take care of your household, and stop fleeing from your duties and your classes to explore the wild. You just cannot help it. You were already a disobedient child; but the teenager you are now cannot bear authority.
Freedom.
Is it too little to ask?
“Are you going to stay here?” Áed asks.
You shrug, unable to answer properly. You feel too pitiful to try to talk with a Fæ - a tricky exercise, as Fæs like to twist words as they like and get human souls from a clumsy sentence.
“You can,” Áed then says. “I will watch over you.”
“This sounds too nice, lord Fæ.” You haven’t been able to prevent the dryness of your tone. “It might be another trick.”
And yet, you lay on your back, somewhat desperate, arms crossed behind your head, not knowing where else to go or what else to do. The Fæ, after all, is not evil, you remind yourself. He also does good things, occasionally. You might just be lucky.
“Aren’t you afraid, little one? I know you do not trust me.”
“I am too tired for that.”
He laughs. “Will you not give me your name, then?”
“I cannot give you my name,” you reply. You know what it would lead to. Giving your name to a Fæ is giving him the power to take over your life. “But I will tell you that it’s…”
You hesitate. The Fæ knowing your name would also give him some power - that is what has lost Lettie, you’ve been told.
“Elaine.”
You close your eyes, and Áed simply laughs. He does not speak afterwards; yet you remain wary, and heavy thoughts are on your mind, so you do not find sleep easily. You end up turning towards him, and opening your eyes again, wondering if he has left, too bored to stay watching over a sleeping human.
But he’s still there.
“Little liar,” he says, not smiling but not sounding angry either. “This is your mother’s name.”
You are somehow not surprised he has noticed. Your grandmother said your mother used to go the well to wishes often - she might have met him too, talked with him, before he took her away. Just like you, your mother didn’t fear the way to the well to wishes and the færie ring. The same recklessness, the same need for freedom runs into your veins. That might be why your family is so afraid to lose you.
“You remember her?”
“I do. I remember Nimia, also. That foolish girl, Lettie. The old Mack, who tried to cut the færie ring. And all the others.”
“Why do you take them away?”
He looks at you. “Humans are fascinating. You poor little things, so weak and powerless, your lives are so short, and you do not know half the wonders that exist. And yet. You manage to find happiness.”
You feel yourself drifting off to sleep, listening to the soothing velvet of his voice. Exhaustion has caught up to you. Your eyes are already closing off.
“It is no reason to take it away from us,” you murmur, tiredly.
He keeps on staring at you, but does not answer. After a while, you simply close your eyes again, and this time, sleep finds you after a few minutes.
When you wake up, Áed is gone. You go back home, and your grandmother cries when you arrive. She forbids you to leave ever again. Your father apologizes for his harsh words, and you apologize for your rebellious attitude.
“Where were you?” your grandmother asks, once the calm has returned to the household.
“I slept by the færie ring,” you say. “But the Fæ wasn’t there.”
You can hear it in your head, ‘little liar’ said with his voice, and it somehow makes you want to smile.
“You shouldn’t,” your grandmother admonishes. “Your mother used to do that too, and look where that led her. You were lucky.”
“Yes,” you reply, and this time you think it, too.
The third time he asks for your name, four years have passed ever since you have slept by the færie ring, and your grandmother has still not allowed you out of the village. She does not like the longing looks you throw to the forest and the valleys beyond either, says you are now of age to be married, and should do so before she picks you a husband herself. This annoys you. She has, however, loosened her strict watch, and you can come and go out of the house mostly as you please.
For a few months, now, Kevan has been courting you, and you enjoy having the freedom to spend time with him. He is the blacksmith’s son, has had several lovers before you; but he assures you he can only look at you now, that you are the special one, and he swears if you marry him, he will make you the happiest woman of all Qelt.
You always laugh at that. He is cute and charming, but freedom is still your keyword, and you do not see yourself speaking vows to anyone yet. He shrugs, whenever this is your answer, then takes you in his arms, and makes you laugh some more.
But tonight, he doesn’t shrug. He has drunk, you know, maybe too much, and you look at him in slight fear when he grabs your arm too tightly after you have refused him once again.
“Why?” he groans. “I’m nice to you.”
“I know, Kevan,” you reply, trying to keep your calm. He is simply drunk. You have talked to more drunk boys than one, nothing has ever happened to you. “Now let go of me, please. I told you, I simply do not want to marry yet–”
“You do more than that. You refuse yourself to me. I’m courting you, but it never goes further than an embrace.”
“I do not owe you more than an embrace. If this bores you, you’re free to woo another woman.”
He pulls you to him, and his grip hurts, this time. “I do not want another woman!”
“Kevan, you’re drunk!”
You put a firm hand on his chest to keep some distance between you, keeps your head away from his. You know what he wants, but you do not want it.
“Why don’t you love me?” he asks, accusatory.
Part of you feels guilty. Part of you feels angry.
“I don’t owe you feelings.”
“You’ve seduced me. You’ve let me court you.”
You thought you loved him. You simply wanted to take it slow, to grow a friendship with this charming boy, before doing anything. You enjoyed his attention. You enjoyed playing this little game of cat and mouse with him, thinking it would end well for the both of you once you would have decided your freedom could also be with him.
But not anymore.
Your freedom cannot be with a man who will not wait for you, yet will not move on to someone befitting him better.
“I just wanted time, Kevan,” you try, despite knowing the idea of a future with him is over. “Can you understand that?”
“No!” he roars. “I’ve waited enough. You’re mine, you hear me?!”
“You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying, you-”
“YOU’RE MINE!”
He pulls you closer, and you break free. He screams your name, but you’re already running out of the inn, under the confused eyes of the other villagers who have always seen you two getting along so well, and do not understand what has happened.
Kevan screams your name again, chasing after you.
Fear takes over.
What is he going to do? He is drunk, simply, he surely himself does not understand his own acts. But what if he catches you? Will he just shout? Will he cry? Will he stop himself, being the charming boy he has always been?
Unless this charm of his was nothing but a way to get into your bed, and this friendship you wanted, he has never had any use of it?
And if he catches you, he will get his way with you, whether you want it or not?
No, he wouldn’t do that. He isn’t like that. He might not go that far.
But you can feel his need for bruising kisses, for his hands on your skin, at least, and you can see yourself crying as he holds you tight and calls you his, because it is not how it was supposed to be - and this, you do not want at all.
He calls you names. Yells insults. You run, never turning back, never slowing down. You cannot lead him to your home, you think. Your grandmother and your father are sleeping and you should not even be out, and he would get you before the door.
So, you keep on running.
Your legs carry you to the only place where you’ve found safety outside the village, and when you hear Kevan’s voice louder, his steps closer, you scream before diving into the færie ring.
“ÁED!”
He receives you in his arms. You fold against his chest, trembling and still unable to believe the man you thought could become your husband has gone as far as chasing you outside the village, to the færie ring all villagers avoid.
You do not even want to know how Kevan has reacted. You breathe in and out, slowly, letting Áed hold you and stroke your hair.
“Easy, little one,” he whispers to your ear. “Easy.”
“What are you doing?!” Kevan’s shout. He sounds afraid. “Get back here! It’s–”
“Hush, human.” You have never heard Áed speaking so coldly. Kevan falls silent - drunk or not, every villager knows to respect the Fæs. “This one is under my protection.”
There are no words exchanged for what seems to be a long, long time. You can hear Kevan’s ragged respiration behind you, just one meter away. The færie ring feels like a protection once again; yet you’re inside, this time, and that’s where you feel safe.
“Leave.” There is the hint of a threat in Áed’s voice. “Now.”
Kevan’s steps finally hurry away after a few seconds of hesitation, and you break. You cry. You cling on Áed’s tunic, and you shed your tears, resting your forehead on the crook of his neck.
“It’s okay, little one. He’s gone. You’re safe.”
You somewhat forget he has taken your mother, Nimia, Lettie, the old Mack, and all those other missing villagers from before you were born, during the centuries he has lived. You somehow forget of what you risk, being in a færie ring, in a Fæ’s embrace.
And Áed does not lie to you. You’re safe. He lets you cry in his arms, without asking anything of you, without taking you to Fæqelt, the holy land where his kind resides, without any tricks or malice.
“I do not want to go home,” you murmur.
“It is okay, little one. You can stay here. The færie ring is safe for you.”
You pull away to look at him. “Are you not going to trick me?”
“I won’t.” He is grinning. You believe him, even though you should not.
“Not even ask me for my name?” you try to joke, pathetically.
He raises a brow. “Would you give me your name?”
“No,” and this time you’re smiling, even just a little. “But you may call me Ainsel.”
He laughs and ruffles your hair, and keeps on calling you ‘little one’ - he’s a Fæ too old to be tricked back that way. You end up laying down side by side in the færie ring, and he talks with you until you fall asleep.
When morning comes, you’re in your bed. When you finally stop avoiding him, a few days later, Kevan apologizes to you, then never talks to you again.
You prefer it that way.
The fourth time he asks for your name is very soon after. You come to the færie ring at night, darkness being the only way to escape your grandmother’s watch to leave the village, though you do not enter it.
Last time seemed like an emergency situation. You are not sure you can be so lucky not to be tricked by the Fæ again.
You are not so sure why you have come here either. Maybe it is the fact that you have started appreciating Áed, despite all his evil deeds - that he yet does not see as evil, simply as a Fæ’s doings. Maybe it is because you are starting to understand that your parents’ wedding and your birth was, for your mother, more of a curse than a blessing; and that the same fate of having to bend yourself to what everyone is expecting you to do might be awaiting you as well.
But maybe, it is just the freedom of being able to run under the moon wherever you want, and feel the wind into your hair, away from a village you love but which has started to grow too small for you.
“Little one!” he calls when he appears. He seems surprised, but pleased. “I did not expect to see you so soon. Are you going to the well to wishes?”
You shrug. “No, I wanted to see you. Please do not ask me why.”
“Why?” he maliciously asks.
You shake your head, raise your eyes to the sky. That makes him laugh. He is infuriating, in a way; yet you cannot help but smile.
“How are things, with the ruffian?”
“He has apologized, but has stopped talking to me. He thought me going into the færie ring was a dream, though. I’m glad of it. Had he talked about it, it would have caused me troubles.” You grimace. “My grandmother would have locked me in the house, and married me off immediately.”
“And I could not see you again?” he exclaims. “Horrible. Why would she do such a thing?”
You look at him quietly, and his expression shifts to a less mischievous one.
“She has already lost her daughter to you,” you say, voice soft. “She does not want to lose her granddaughter.”
He opens his mouth to talk, closes it. You are convinced that years ago, he would not have reacted the same way. Would not have taken it so seriously.
“Do you miss her?” he asks.
“I was two, when you led her away. I did not know her well. But my grandmother and my father miss her, and I have always been able to feel there was something lacking in our home.”
He nods. You nod back. There is something strange, in the atmosphere, though you cannot say what. You are not sure he regrets what he has done - how could he? He remains a Fæ, after all -, but you know he has no intention to talk about it with any kind of pride anymore.
“Come here, little one,” he finally says. “And I promise, nothing will happen to you. I will not bring you any more harm.”
You step into the færie ring, standing proud in front of him. Your heart is strangely beating hard in your chest, and he smiles at you, eyes gleaming with a light which is not mischief, but something much softer.
“Will you give me your name, little one?”
It is not a bargain. He already knows your answer.
“You will let me refuse, won’t you?”
He winks. “I will.”
“Then, I can’t give you my name,” you decide, amused. “You are still welcome to call me Ainsel, however.”
“Oh, ‘little one’ suits you better.”
You laugh, and you two sit in the færie ring to talk again, and you tell him things you cannot tell anyone else - you tell him about your dreams of freedom, your wish to explore the world, even Fæqelt, the fact that the village has started to be a prison for you, instead of a home, that your family is your anchor but not your guide, about your need to leave.
He listens. He gives you some answers. Tells you about Fæqelt, about how færie rings can be used to travel within all Qelt and beyond, about himself, also.
And you start thinking it wouldn’t be so bad, traveling with him.
You start coming back to the færie ring more and more often. You are curious about him. A strange bond has started developing between you two, and the more you know about him, the more you notice the constellation of golden freckles on his cheeks, the way his eyes glint with a reflect of starlight, how his laugh sounds when he’s particularly happy, the softness of his smiles which are not tainted with mischief.
Soon, you find yourself craving for those interactions.
There is no one else in the village able to understand you, to support your desire to wander around the world. No one else to talk about travels and adventures with. Even your childhood friends, who have shared all your ups and downs, cannot get why you do not want to become a fine housewife, and live the rest of your life surrounded by what you have always known.
You know, now, why your mother has walked with her hand in Áed’s, while she was too clever to be taken away.
It was the craving for freedom.
She should have known better than abandoning her family; but you can understand how trapped she must have felt in this little village, especially if a marriage and a baby was not what she had wanted. She must have looked longingly to the forests and valleys beyond the village, as you now do, and must have thought it would be better to be led astray by a Fæ than to remain chained down and become a shadow of herself, needing freedom as one needs oxygen.
You understand.
You would have done the same, had you married Kevan as you planned to, all those months ago.
But one night, you stay too late, and your grandmother is waiting for you when you come home at dawn. She notices the grass on your dress, asks for explanations, does not believe any of your lies.
So you tell her the truth, for she has always been one of your pillars, but she screams the moment she hears you have bonded with the Fæ - and her screams wake your father who cries and despairs when learning what you have done.
For the first time in years, he says again you will never be a good daughter. He cries that you are too much like your mother, with the same craving for freedom, the same desire to leave the village, that if he does not keep an eye on you, you will run away to Fæqelt and never come back. He accuses you not to love him, for your mother surely did not love him and the idea of a family with him - or not enough to stay.
Your grandmother locks you into the house, does not allow you out again except under her watch. She promises to marry you soon, as she did for her daughter when she understood her daughter would one day leave her if she did not. The world is too wild for humans, she tell you. Binding you here is the only way to protect you.
This is for your own good, they say, but it does not do you any good.
The village learns about it. Kevan understands what he had seen that night was not a dream, reveals you have stepped into the færie ring, into the Fæ’s arms. And then the villagers, those people who have raised you, seen you grow, watched you live, whisper that you are lost, and that you are a Witch. They say you will bring bad luck to the village, that you are a channel through which curses and tricks from Fæqelt will pass; but they cannot get rid of you and risk the wrath of Áed.
You are not even sure they know what a Witch is. You do not, not really. Witches are wanderers who have strange powers, people say, obtained through a pact with a Fæ. It is like making vows with mischief itself: Witches might be human, but like Fæs, they cannot be trusted.
You cannot go anywhere without hearing the whispers, or feeling the heavy stares in your back. One day, at the market, you receive a stone from Lettie’s former husband, who did not know better. Your grandmother, ashamed, as she cannot even marry you off to a villager anymore, does not defend you.
After that, you stop leaving the house at all.
And you understand your mother’s decision even better.
The fifth time he asks for your name, it’s Early Summer Night, the beginning of the warmer days, celebrated by the entire village around a banquet. Your grandmother and your father have left the house. They are convinced you will not. No one would want to see you at the banquet, after all.
But your need for freedom is still there.
You escape your home which has become your prison, and you only feel like living again once the wind is in your hair, the grass under your feet, and you can breathe in fresh oxygen. You run. Your legs welcome the dearly missed sensation blissfully, take you to the færie ring.
You do not know where else to go.
“Áed,” you whisper when you step into the færie ring, and he’s there, and you’re in his arms, and he’s holding you so tight you realize he must have missed you like you have missed him.
“Do you know how scared I was, little one?” he asks in a strangled voice. “I thought– I thought you would never come again.”
You break in tears. Everything is too much, feels too much, has been too much ever since your grandmother has discovered you had approached the færie ring. You feel like shattering - and in a way, you do, pressed against his chest, pouring your heart out and wishing this night would not end.
“I thought they had killed you,” Áed murmurs, caressing your hair.
“They wouldn’t,” you sob. “They scorn me, now, but they’re not murderers. And I have done nothing evil.”
“What’s inside you, what you are capable of, it scares them. And scared people lose their minds far too easily.”
You shake your head like a child. “They would not harm me.”
“Not physically. But they could have harmed you in other ways. Your beautiful mind, for example. They could have killed this spark in you.” He pauses. “Forced you to give up on your freedom.”
You think of all those days spent the same way, cleaning, cooking, sewing, all nice tasks as long as they’re not the only ones in your life, looking by the window and desperately wishing to feel the warmth of the sun on your skin again, to walk around without fearing to be called names or to receive stones.
You think of how, had you not known him so well, you would have already escaped and given him your name, for getting lost forever in Fæqelt will always be better than the life you now have.
“They almost did.”
You realize, belatedly, how terrified you sound. Áed takes your face between his hands, looking so worried you think he might cry too.
“Little one, you do not have to remain here. You can leave. That is what you have always wanted.”
“But,” you weep, “they are my family.”
“Family should push you forward, and not hold you back. They might warn you, but they should not bind you. Leave, little one. Take your freedom. They do not own you. Come back to this village a fine traveler and a proper Witch, and show them they were wrong to outcast you.”
You manage to smile weakly. “You make it sound so easy.”
“Because it can be. Witches are travelers who venture into Fæqelt and explore it, little one. That, you can be easily. You have the wit and the courage for it.”
You take a breathe, in and out, the despair in your stomach slowly turning into a glint of hope.
“Aren’t humans supposed to lose themselves in Fæqelt?”
“Not with the blessing of a Fæ,” Áed replies softly, and your heartbeat fastens.
The future, all of a sudden, seems open with a thousand possibilities. You see the roads, the travels through færie rings, the foreign people in the inns, the new towns, the vast, vast world you have always dreamt of seeing, the holy land of the Fæ, mysterious and enthralling, only ever told in myths - and Áed by your side, being his usual self, smiling at you so brightly.
“Yes,” you say to this future, to this everything. “I would want that.”
There is relief on Áed’s face, relief and fondness - as if he had wanted you to say that, for your sake and because that was something he wished for, but was not sure you would bring yourself to do so.
“I will come for you during Midsummer Night, when Fæs can leave the færie rings, and blend in with humans. Be strong until then, little one. Do not let them bind you.”
“Thank you, Áed. Thank you.”
“Just give me your name in exchange,” he jokes to cheer you up.
It makes your chest so warm the tears pour out again. Áed smiles, kisses your humid cheeks gently.
“Next time”, you promise, crying. “Next time.”
You still want to give your village a chance.
Or at least a goodbye.
The last time he asks for your name, you are ready to leave. You are but the shadow of yourself, now. The days until Midsummer Night have been endless. Your grandmother has suspected you had gone out during Early Summer Night, but has not been able to prove it - she now barely talks to you at all. Your father has managed to marry you to a farmer in the next village, who hasn’t heard of you.
You have long wondered why their worry has turned into anger and resentment, why they have caged you, when they simply wanted to protect you. No matter your apologies, your explanations, they won’t listen to you at all.
Now, you suppose it is easier to hate than to forgive, especially when there is finally someone to blame for your mother’s disappearance - for all those disappearances. But they have not realized what they are doing is what drew your mother away from them, what is also drawing you away.
They cannot understand. And what they cannot understand, they fear; and what they fear, they try to keep it locked somewhere until it dies.
“Gather your belongings,” your father tells you when the night is falling. “Tonight, you will meet your future husband. We will celebrate the wedding when the dances end.”
They are taking you to celebrate Midsummer Night in the next village, and are getting rid of you the same day, so that no villager will have to bear your presence ever again. You tell them all goodbye in your head, sat in your father’s cart, the bag containing your few belongings on your lap as you watch the little houses and the streets where you have grown up fade away into the night.
Your future husband is introduced to you as soon as you arrive. He is nice, and his family welcomes you warmly; but you can see they are just like the people of your own village, thinking everyone should be content doing what they’re expected to do, and they would frighten of your need for freedom. You already suffocate when they say everything is ready for the wedding, insist on celebrating Midsummer Night first - and fortunately, they all agree.
You embrace your father and your grandmother before joining in the dances. They do not quite understand when you already bid them farewell.
You share a few dances with your future husband, a charming man who would never be able to understand you, and would fear you if he really knew you. He feels guilty leaving you to go dance with his sister, but you laugh and encourage him to do so.
You do not tell him you will dance again anyway.
That would be a lie.
You watch as he nods and hurries to his family, then change partners yourself, taking the hand of the first man who approaches you–
“Hello, little one.”
–and you nearly cry when your eyes meet his. He is so beautiful, in the light of the high flames lit in the middle of the village, you almost think he is a dream - but he is not, oh, he is not, and you have never been so happy.
“You are of exquisite, tonight,” Áed says.
You are wearing the wedding dress you have sewn yourself, all those days spent in your house, and your mother’s necklace resting on your chest, that necklace you longed for so much when you were just a child, which is the only thing from her your father has allowed you to keep.
“Thank you,” you tell Áed, for calling you exquisite, and for everything else.
He laughs and makes you twirl, and for the first time in what feels like centuries now, you laugh too. He does not let go of you. You do not want him to.
“Will you give me your name, little one?” he asks; but this time, you know what he will do with your name, with your life.
He will set you free.
So you stand on tiptoes, and you give him your name, finally, and he wraps his arms around your waist to whisper his own, real name into your ear - then, when the dance comes to an end, you run hand in hand to your father’s cart to pick up your bag, laughing like children, before disappearing into the night.
No one sees you leave.
It means you might come back one day.
This is the most beautiful thing i have ever read and i hope everyone it comes across reads it and feels the same intensity that i felt beacause it is truly a work of art
Jimmeny crickets, y’all need to read this shiz
Woah...that was....woah. But-but what was her name??
me: women are scrutinized over every aspect of their being and are taught from birth to be self conscious about their face, their eyes, their nose, their lips, the way they sound, the way they laugh, how they do their hair, how they do their makeup, what their body looks like, what they wear, what they don’t wear, how they greet you, how they celebrate, how they eat….
man who is very intelligent: well movies created by men about their own male power fantasies expect me to have abs. it goes both ways
