The Shortest Day. Words by Susan Cooper, illustrations by Carson Ellis.
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The Shortest Day. Words by Susan Cooper, illustrations by Carson Ellis.
Do you have a translation of the French Vulgate?
Yes if you mean in general. I have Lacy Lancelot Grail series.
But if you mean as an online shareable text, unfortunately not.
I think I have something!
The one Iâve been using was what Iâve found on the Internet Archive. It has the text in original Old French, and little summaries in English in the margins. Of course it depends on what you need it for, but if you want to just read it, itâs a perfectly good option, and might actually be easier to get through than a complete translation.
VOLUME I - LESTOIRE DEL SAINT GRAAL
VOLUME II - LESTOIRE DE MERLIN
VOLUME III - LE LIVRE DE LANCELOT DEL LAC PART I
VOLUME IV - LE LIVRE DE LANCELOT DEL LAC PART II
VOLUME V - LE LIVRE DE LANCELOT DEL LAC PART III
VOLUME VI - LES AVENTURES OU LA QUESTE DEL SAINT GRAAL + LA MORT LE ROI ARTUS
VOLUME VII - SUPPLEMENT: LE LIVRE D'ARTUS
I hope this is more or less what youâre looking for?
As a counterpoint to the desert part of Colorado, I spent 3 weeks camping in the depths of the Rockies and it has its own Gothic Aura
You hear a rumbling from the other side of the mountain. The guide says itâs a rock fall. Youâre not sure
Thereâs something living in the talus fields. Something that leaves sparkling gems to lure people close enough to grab.
The stars look weird. Too silvery, too gossamer. Would you even notice if the stars moved while you werenât looking?
The air grows hard to breath. Yet you canât stop the ascent. It wonât let you.
At the peaks, you can almost touch the clouds. Donât. They can touch back, and they are not as gentle as you.
A hiker stumbles into camp. He asks you where the nearest town is. Itâs half a dayâs walk the way you came. The man thanks you and leaves. The sun is already setting, but this doesnât seem to phase him.
The park ranger says heâs seen this trail before. His eyes tell a different story.
Something got into your gear while you slept. Your friend says itâs a marten. You both donât want to admit he might be wrong.
You need to treat all the water you drink with iodine, something about parasites. But youâre thirsty now. People lived on stream water before iodine, right? Surely a single sip wonât hurt.
Thereâs cliffs that you feel that if you fell off, you might never stop. You can sometimes hear screaming carried up on the wind.
The topo map says there should be a mountain here, but there isnât. Just a malevolent looking pine stand.
Aspen trees have eyes. They also have teeth.
Itâs said that lizard lake doesnât have a bottom. You wish they were wrong.
Submitted by @scienceshaman
Weâve bought a new house. And our new next door neighbours (two delightful gentlemen) will not stop being nice.Â
- bought us a seagull proof refuse bag (yes, they are actual things)
- loaned us garden tools when we didnât have any
- invited us around for Friday night drinks so we could meet the other people on the lane
- one of them brought me a bunch of sweetpea flowers that heâd picked from his garden
- and tomorrow heâs coming to cut our hedge for us with his electric hedge trimmer thing idk, and all I have to do is hold the ladder.
Basically, I am UNSETTLED and am now having to enter into an arms race of niceness and I am already so behind oh god.
Long story short - I just baked a lemon drizzle cake, and it looks great but I canât even eat it because MR AND MR NICE MUST RECEIVE AN OFFERING.
ABSOLUTE CRISIS I GAVE THEM THE LEMON DRIZZLE AND THEN THEY INVITED ME IN TO HAVE A SLICE AND A COFFEE WITH THEM AND GAVE ME A TOUR OF THEIR HOUSE AND LET ME HOLD THEIR PUPPY. AND THEN THEY CAME AROUND TO HELP ME BAG UP THE HEDGE CLIPPINGS. THESE MEN ARE NICENESS PROS AND I CANNOT WIN.
HELP WE HAD AN HOUR LONG POWER CUT ON THE STREET AND IN THAT TIME THE OTHER MR NICE CAME AROUND WITH MATCHES AND CANDLESÂ âJUST IN CASE YOU DIDNâT HAVE ANYâ. IT WAS BARELY DARK.
BASTARDS - IâM GOING TO HAVE TO HOST A DINNER PARTY ARENâT I?
The Gay Agenda, everyone.Â
this is fucking i n c r e d i b l e
Imagine your otps
Just so everyone knows -
Mr and Mr Nice moved out around Christmas time 2016. (Further proof that 2016 was a cursed year)
We are still in touch and have been to visit them in their new house. They moved to gain some land, they have sheep aspirations for some reason. I love them.
We have new neighbours. I am currently engaged in a slow burn of niceness, which you can bet that I am going to crank up to the max when we move down permanently in June.
I WILL BE THE NICE ONE THIS TIME. PRE-EMPTIVE STRIKE. NO MERCY.
Saving this post because I finally found it again
Hi! Just a genuine question, I was curious as to why you dislike the Rainbow Fish?
Because Rainbow Fish can be retold like this:Â
A fish has a part of their body - their physical, incarnate body, what they were born with - that makes them very happy and that they are very proud of. They also have an unfortunate habit of thinking that they are better than other fish. That part isnât good, and causes the other fish to be unhappy with them and avoid them.Â
The fish is now very sad. The only person who likes the fish anymore tells him to go to the octopus, the animal framed as the adult in the story.Â
The octopus tells the rainbow fish that they have been a snotty jerk and that the only way to make people like them again is to take off their scales and give them away. That in order to have any friends and make up for their behaviour, they have to rip off pieces of their own body and self and give them away to other people to make the other people happy and make up for their transgressions.Â
And the rainbow fish is upset. And then another fish comes and asks them for a scale. And the rainbow fish takes off a piece of themself, their body, the thing they were born into, and gives it away. And now that fish likes him, and is materially benefitted by this piece of another fishâs actual body that has been given to it.Â
And then the other fish come, and the rainbow fish rips off more parts of its body - all of the parts that used to make it happy and that it was proud of - and gives them to the other fish, because itâs not fair that the rainbow fishâs body was so much nicer. And when the rainbow fish has ripped all but one scale off, tearing out of themself all but one of the things that they possessed in their self that made them happy, then all the fish are friends with them! And everything is great! And everyone has a fair share.Â
Of the rainbow fishâs, and I do quite mean to keep hammering this point, own body.
What the book says is:Â
1. if you are born with something nice - like, for instance, an attractive body or a clever mind or a talent or whatever - and it makes you happy and proud, you are a horrible person and deserve to be shunned. Absolutely no line is ever drawn between Rainbow Fishâs self, their actual own body, and their behaviour. In reality, itâs their behaviour thatâs the problem: they are mean and aloof to the other fish. This could be the case whether or not their body was all covered with magnificent scales. However, the book absolutely conflates the two: their behaviour is framed as a natural and unavoidable outcome of being happy about and proud of their special, beautiful body. So donât you dare ever be happy or proud of anything you have or can do that everyone else doesnât have exactly the same amount as, because if you do, you are horrible and by definition snotty, stuck up and mean.Â
2. That in order to make up for the transgression of having something about your actual self that makes you happy and proud (which, remember, has automatically made you selfish and snobby, because thatâs what happens), you must rip pieces of what makes you happy out of yourself and give them to other people for the asking, and you must never ever EVER have more of that part of - again, I hate to belabour except I donât - your self than other people have, and that makes you a good person that people like and who deserves friends.Â
To summarize, then: to be a good person you must never have something about yourself that makes you happy and proud and if you happen to be born with that something you must absolutely find a way to give it away to other people and remove it from yourself, right up to tearing off pieces of your body, in order to be a good person who deserves friends.Â
This, I am absolutely sure, is not what the author intended: the author definitely meant it to be a story about sharing versus not sharing. But the author then used, as their allegory/metaphor, the fishâs own actual body. Their self. It was not about sharing shiny rocks that the rainbow fish had gathered up for himself. It wasnât even about the fish teaching other fish how to do something, or where to find something.Â
The metaphor/allegory used is the fishâs literal. body. And so the message is: other people have rights to you. Other people have the right to demand you, yourself, your body, pieces of you, in a way that makes absolutely sure that you have no more of anything about your body and self that is considered âgoodâ than they do.Â
And that might just suck a little bit except, hah, so: Gifted adult, here. Identified as a Gifted child.Â
This is what Gifted children are told, constantly. All the fucking time.Â
(Okay, I overstate. I am sure - at least I fucking HOPE - that particularly by this time there are Gifted children coming to adulthood who did not run into this pathology over and over and over and over again. I havenât met any of them, though, and I have met a lot of Gifted adults who were identified as Gifted as children.)Â
Instead of being told whatâs actually a problem with our behaviour (that weâre being mean, or controlling, or putting other people down), or - heavens forfend - the other children being told that us being better at something doesnât actually mean moral superiority and is totally okay and not something we should be attacked for, we are told: theyâre jealous of you. Thatâs the problem.Â
Instead of being taught any way to be happy about our accomplishments and talents that does not also stop the talents and accomplishments of other children - whatever those are! - from being celebrated, we are left with two choices: to be pleased with what we can do, or what we are, or to never, ever make anyone feel bad by being able to do things they canât. And the first option also comes with two options: either you really ARE superior to them because you have skills, abilities and talents they donât (or are prettier), or you are a HORRIBLE stuck up monster for feeling that way.Â
(It is not uncommon for Gifted kids to chose either side, which means itâs not uncommon for them to choose âokay fine I really AM better than youâ; this can often be summarized as âintent on sticking their noses in the air because everyone else is intent on rubbing them in the dirtâ; on the other hand I have met a lot of Gifted women, particularly*, who cannot actually contemplate the idea of being Gifted because to do so is to immediately imply that they are somehow of more moral or human worth than someone else and this means they are HORRIBLE HORRIBLE SELFISH PEOPLE, and so will find literally any reason at all that their accomplishments are not accomplishments or that they donât deserve anything for them.)Â
Instead of being given any kind of autonomy or ownership of ourselves, we are loaded down by other peopleâs expectations: we are told that because we can accomplish more we must, and that daring not to do what other people want to the extent that they want with what we are capable of we are selfish, slackers, lazy, whatever. We are taught that we owe other people - our parents, our friends, even The World - excellence, the very best we can possibly do, and trust me when I say people are ALWAYS insisting We Could Do Better. And we should, or else we will be disappointing them, or letting them down, because (because we are Gifted) the only reason we could possibly be failing is not trying hard enough.Â
We are, in fact, told over and over and over and over again, to rip off pieces of ourselves to give to other people to make them happy, because those pieces are valuable, but forbidden from enjoying the value of those pieces - pieces of our selves - for our own sake because that would be selfish and arrogant. And we owe this, because we were born a particular way.Â
Because, metaphorically, we were born with rainbow scales, so now we have to rip off those rainbow scales in the name of Sharing, and otherwise we are selfish and horrible and deserve to be alone.**Â
That is why I fucking hate The Rainbow Fish.Â
Because whatever the author INTENDED, the metaphor they chose, the allegory they picked, means that THAT is the story they actually told. (And is the story that child after child after child after child I have encountered actually takes from it.) I donât hate the author; Iâm not even mad at them. But I do hate the book with a fiery passion, and it is among the books I will literally rip apart rather than allow in my house when I have kids, because Iâm not going to give it to anyone ELSEâs kid either.Â
*but, I would like to note, not UNIQUELY: this is something I encounter in Gifted men as well.Â
**I canât remember who it was, in relation to this, put forward the thought: if people actually talked about the access and use of childrenâs bodies the way we talk about access to and use of Gifted childrenâs minds and talentsâ , the abusiveness would be absolutely clear? But theyâre right.Â
â because sometimes it is Gifted childrenâs bodies in an abstract way, in that its their talent for gymnastics or their talent for ballet or sport or whatever, so I mean in a very raw way, the actual physical embodied flesh we are.Â
Itâs the final days/hours of the Tiny Pantheon pin Kickstarter and the final pins are revealed! Silver Khonsu pin with glow in the dark enamel parts will unlock if/when this tweet reaches 777 notes!
If you havenât seen the Kickstarter already, you can check it out over here: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/mamath/tiny-pantheon-cute-egyptian-mythology-enamel-pins
Thereâs also a rainbow anodised Bennu bird design that will be unlocked at 777 retweets on Twitter! If youâd like to help unlock that one, head over here to the tweet :) That oneâs gonna be harder, I think :D;;
it is a bad time to be alone. inside of me feels like a very small set of claws is slowly peeling away my insides, bit by bit. like it doesnât really hurt until the movie on tv has a happy family in it. like christmas songs make me close my eyes and breathe slowly. like donât talk to me about snow.Â
it is a bad time to be lonely. the house is full and people are laughing but i am apart. i feel temporary. like iâm both inside the house and outside, watching through glass the yellow light of something that isnât mine. like iâm borrowing it. like these people donât know me and they wonât try to and i donât blame them for it.
i miss belonging. i miss stealing food out of the fridge and teaching the dog new tricks and laughing so hard i cry for it. i miss a loud house that doesnât make me flinch. i miss swelling up with joy in preparation for christmas rather than bracing for it.Â
the little claw inside me digs, and digs, and digs.
Hereâs the full 24 hour comic I drew yesterday, called âThe Fish Wifeâ. Thank you to everybody who followed along on twitter and cheered me on <3
oh i love this
Our non-binary hero travels throughout the land defeating cissexist mythical beasts and being the legal loophole in gender-specific prophecies and curses, just because they can
(please do not redistribute without permission!)
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I canât believe the number of notes on this!! And scrolling through all the tags and comments is a wonderful experience. If all goes according to plan Lock will be returning with more adventures this summer (and maybe some friends!) but in the meantime feel free to check out their character tag here :)
NON BINARY HERO MADE OF JUSTICE
@not-your-fae @mimi-911 @llbella-universe-system @lnshrr
âNo heroâ I h8 u sm đđđ @torchix @painandmemes @winters-bane !!!! @vaspider
*screams*
I love this.
I, too, have justice in my pants.
All literature, highbrow or low, from the Aeneid onward, is fan fiction. [âŠ] Through parody and pastiche, allusion and homage, retelling and reimagining the stories that were told before us and that we have come of age lovingâamateursâwe proceed, seeking out the blank places in the map that our favorite writers, in their greatness and negligence, have left for us, hoping to pass on to our own readersâshould we be lucky enough to find anyâsome of the pleasure that we ourselves have taken in the stuff that we love: to get in on the game. All novels are sequels; influence is bliss.
Maps and Legends: Reading and Writing Along The Borderlands, Michael Chabon. (via thealogie)
When the ending sucked, but fan artists and fic writers got your back
Me @ myself before social interactions: please don't talk ... just listen... you don't need to talk....
Me during: i can't tell if you care but I am going to finish anyway to avoid awkward silence so onto chapter 12 of my life story ,
After: yes hello can I get the number for where I could possibly be sealed into a soundproof box for the rest of my natural life, air holes not required
Thereâs pieces of me you never gave back. There are nights that I canât think about without flinching. Mornings I have to draw over in black marker. What if nobody ever looks at me like you did. What if I never find those secrets again. What if I am never whole again.
Nine characters I relate to. John Watson from BBC Sherlock, Tony Stark from Avengers, Riley from Inside Out, Natasha Romanova from the Avengers, the role of Companion from Doctor Who (though not any one Companion), Danny Pink from Doctor Who, Petyr âLittlefingerâ Baelish from Game of Thrones, Solace (âfirebirdâs childâ) and Sorrow (âthe orphan in the night gardenâ) from The Orphanâs Tales books by Catherynne M. Valente.
we are born wild, made of wind. we know the night, it has breathed in us, yet we have lived. we light ourselves up from the deepest of pits. we survive it.Â
where the light has gone out, our hearts have learned to glow instead. we follow the compass of our blood beyond the deepest of oceans. we howl even into the silence. we make ourselves into constellations, cobble together all of our bits, chase back the darkness. we are a galaxy we crafted by our own bones. we had nothing left but hope. and we fought for it.Â
and we found home.
BABIES!!!
so the best thing about this is that bobcats, like just about every feline besides lions and domestic cats, are pretty solitary. they donât really have friends. they arenât really equipped to make friends.Â
domestic cats, on the other hand, do know how to make friends. they are friendly to the point that lots of feral cats live in coloniesâ the females hang out together, even raise kids together, and the males like to spend nonsexual time with their baby mommas. they groom each other, play around, and have a particular tail position to signal to one anotherâ straight up with the tip curledâ that theyâre friendly and happy to see each other. cats learned how to be chill with each other in order to take full advantage of human food sources: an ancient granary supplies enough rats for a lot of cats, as does a modern lady with a big bag of frisky bits, so it would be a waste of time and energy for any one cat to try and stake the entire foodsource out for exclusive use. less fighting means more eating and resting which means a longer, nicer life and a lot more kittens.Â
so this stray cat, she obviously has no colony if sheâs wandering around and sneaking into zoo enclosures, so sheâs like âhey! thereâs food here! what up, other cat, letâs be friends, letâs be friends and share that foodâ. and the bobcat is like â??????â because actually wild cats are pretty cautious about initiating hostilities and anything new and aggressive makes them very worried. and the domestic cat is like âhaha cool, ok, weâre friends now, big guy. no problems.â and the bobcat is like â????? wellâŠ?? ok?â and then they are friends.Â
the super interesting thing about most wild cat species is they donât really have the capacity to make friends on their own, especially outside of sibling bonds, but, if someone comes along and does all the friend-making themselves, theyâll totally roll with it. zoo cats can get really attached to their caregiversâ or, in this case, a very confident little calico demonstrating exactly why her species has been so darn successful over the last nine thousand years .Â
so anyway that is the best thing: bobcats are not equipped to make friends, but luckily for this bobcat this homeless lady did not give any shits and made friends anyway. and now they are both happy.Â
#THE FACT THAT THE KEY TO DOMESTIC CATâS SUCCESS IS THAT THEY LEARNEDÂ #THE MEANING OF FRIENDSHIP #IS A FUCKING HOOT
when you go from a bad situation into a better one you may collapse exhausted and unsure what to do and full of grief, you may need time to regain the ability to do things as yourself or motivated by anything other than terror, you may need time to process or mourn or fall apart in ways you could not before,
and people may use this as proof that the old situation was better for you, proof that you need to go back, and it is not proof that it was better for you or proof that you need to go back
!!!
Itâs so incredibly common to âfall apartâ when youâre finally safe. You no longer need to stay so tightly coiled in on yourself, you can finally leave survival mode and process your trauma. Youâre not holding yourself up by sheer terror anymore and suddenly the damage that terror has done to you becomes immediate and obvious.Â
This is so important. Donât go back. Things are already getting better, even if it doesnât feel that way.