Sooo I know this post is like a year old, but it's going around on all the places again and me and a friend are now very invested in finding out how the campaign went with the cat. If we could get an update on it that would be amazing
You’re not the only one who wondered.
His attendance record isn’t great but we let it slide.
Im actually upset that the post from the ask has been circulated with a photo of a different cat - not my cat. People have been claiming the original post is fake because it doesn’t match the photo — not my photo, I didn’t add it.
So please consider endorsing this photo of the boy who actually inspired the original post.
Sooo I know this post is like a year old, but it's going around on all the places again and me and a friend are now very invested in finding out how the campaign went with the cat. If we could get an update on it that would be amazing
You’re not the only one who wondered.
His attendance record isn’t great but we let it slide.
Im actually upset that the post from the ask has been circulated with a photo of a different cat - not my cat. People have been claiming the original post is fake because it doesn’t match the photo — not my photo, I didn’t add it.
So please consider endorsing this photo of the boy who actually inspired the original post.
A Forest Cottage - Housing Commission for @zozo-amused
Balmung, Lavender Beds W21, P54
“Blessings be on this house,” Granny said, perfunctorily. It was always a good opening remark for a witch. It concentrated people’s minds on what other things might be on this house.
Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad
Falling once more, endlessly, eternally through darkness. Existence flipped and turned over and over before, finally, she splashed through the surface of a vast river. A moment later, her head broke the surface, but she didn’t gasp for air. A voice rang out, signalling someone overboard. A ship’s horn blew. A line was thrown to her, and she was pulled onto the deck.
“Well, blow me down!” The old Captain stared at her. To the other passengers, she was no one, but the Captain knew her. “Tis a long time ye been away.”
“I should think so,” she replied, studying the Captain. They were familiar, yet could not be placed. She suspected they were an old colleague.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, but ye look awful,” the Captain said. “Like ye been hacked apart and put back tagether ag’in wit some o’ tha pieces missin’.” The captain paused, then looked to the passengers: world-weary souls seeming uncertain of the destination.
“Allow me ta see these lifelubbers off at port, then I’ll help ye find yer office,” the Captain stated.
“Tis...appreciated. I fear I am rather out of sorts,” she replied, shaking her head. “I do not believe I could find my way.”
“We’ll take care o’ ya, me ol’ hearty. Don’ ye worry ‘bout a thing.”
.....
A waiting room. She hated waiting rooms. She hated making appointments and waiting her turn. To the very core of her soul, she hated them...no doubt a mark of some ancient wrong. Ironic, she supposed.
She looked over herself, and beheld a smartly-dressed, prim-and-proper woman. Then she looked around, and started contemplating just how much of what she was observing was the reality of things, or a conjuration of a mind too accustomed to perceiving reality a certain way.
Her name was called, and she was directed to an office. The Worker behind the desk jumped up and greeted her with an excited grin.
“Oh hey! It’s you! Wow! We were wondering if we’d ever see you again after that vacation you took went awry.” The Worker’s smile faded somewhat, looking her over. No comment was made, but there was a clear indication of worry like the Captain had. “Oh, but I must fetch some of the others. They’ll be so happy to have you back!”
“Pray do not. I fear I am not back. Merely...visiting,” she stated. The Worker stopped.
“Just visiting? No one ‘just visits’.”
“Then I should think I am ‘no one’.”
“I...I suppose. If that’s the way you wish it.” The Worker returned to the desk, glum, but willing to get on with things. “So...what might I do for you?”
“I am in need of my records. I should like all of them,” she answered. The Worker looked alarmed at this request.
“All of them?”
“I...I suppose merely since I...took mine vacation,” she offered, surprised by the alarm.
“Well...that’s a little more reasonable. I doubt I could have handled the whole set!” The Worker’s voice lowered to a whisper. “You are very old.” Those words were probably meant as a compliment...not that she felt them as such.
“Pray be quick about it. I fear I am due to return whence I came soon.”
“So soon?” The Worker whined. “Oh...fine. They tapped away at the terminal in front of them, calling up the records. As the records came through, and they skimmed through them, the Worker’s eyes grew just a bit wider. “Wow.” The Worker suddenly got up again.
“Uh, excuse me. I’ll just...have to get this cleared,” the Worker excused themselves quickly.
“You...what?” she looked after them, puzzled.
.....
A Sentinel collected her, and brought her before the Boss. The latter steepled their fingers, and stared at her judgementaly.
“I am not going to waste what little time you have mincing words,” the Boss said. “Your presence here is an affront.”
“Tis curious you should see me thus. The others seemed full glad to see me,” she replied.
“The others do not know what you did, and I aim to keep it that way,” the Boss replied.
“Mayhap you would enlighten me?”
“You don’t know?” the Boss asked with a tone of disbelief.
“I fear my memory is not as it use to be,” she explained. The Boss grunted.
“Very well. You became obsessed with one of them and wished for a chance to be with them in their world. It was granted on the condition you would return to us when your time was done.”
“Hardly does that sound as aught which is wrong,” she replied. The Boss slammed their fists on the desk and bellowed.
“When your time was up, you refused to return! You abused your power to keep yourself in that world! Even now do you come here with that...that tether, making a mockery of the whole system!” She felt herself shrink. Even the Sentinel seemed to step back.
“That we could forgive,” the Boss continued, “That we could forgive, because your time was unfairly cut short....but tell me: Do you claim to know nothing of how you presently conspire to commit crimes most serious!?”
“I fear you shall need be more specific,” she replied, genuinely. She had no idea what he was talking about.
“Bah! Have you broken so many rules that you don’t know which ones I’m speaking of??”
“With respect...I fear I know naught of the rules I might be breaking. Tis why I requested mine records. I wished to know the truth of things, that I might start making corrections,” she claimed in an earnest tone.
“That may be, but your soul speaks of hidden intentions, and your records show a practiced liar. That is the worst trait you have picked up from their world.” The Boss sat back down behind the desk, and grumped. They rested their head against their fist. “If you want to prove your sincerity, however, then I think we can make a deal.”
She frowned at that. She was tired of pacts, deals, oaths, and all things of that nature. Still, she needed that information.
A distant tower of crystal. A majestic city of high magitechnology. A sprawling graveyard. A grave attended by a pair: A hyurian woman, perhaps in her thirties, black hair tied up in a bun, and a yet older-appearing man, perhaps in his sixties. Both in black. Funeral wear. The graves dates suggested someone in their twenties laid beneath.
"I'm going to miss her," he said. She didn't respond, still and silent in her mourning. He studied her for a moment, then shook his head, starting away.
"Is aught amiss?" she asked with a distant tone. He stopped, jaw clenched.
"You're going to outlive us all, aren't you?" he asked. She stood silently, and he reasserted himself to the woman who seemed far younger: "Aren't you, mother?"
"Yes," she replied, still staring at the grave.
"Why?" His question went unanswered as she returned to her silence. Had he been looking at her face, he'd have seen tears building there. "Why do you get to live on, while everyone else dies?"
"I do not know." Her tone remained was soft.
"So you're going to continue lying, even now? Even over her grave?" he asked, gripping his cane tightly. He looked as though he might have turned about and struck her...if only he could find the energy.
"Yes," she whispered, closing her eyes, the tears falling from her cheeks. He looked over his shoulder.
"I'm going to tell them," He said. "All of them. Everyone. About you."
He started off, but didn't get far. She had drawn a twisted stick from her clothes and pointed in his direction. A moment later, the man collapsed. She rushed to his side to catch him, and ease him to the ground, her tears pelting his face.
"May you and she find one another in the underworld," she whispered, softly, sincerely. She closed her grandson's eyes and left him there, moving through the large graveyard.
She wasn't alone for long. A man in familiar black robes and a red mask appeared not far from her. She seemed to sense him watching, for she gave a heavy sigh, changed directions, and made her way to him. Her arms were folded. She didn’t meet his masked gaze.
"Have you idle hands, spirit?" she asked quietly.
"For a moment, and I thought to check on you. I trust all is well?" The sarcasm was heavy in his tone as he looked around the graveyard, then back to her.
"As well as I expected them to be."
"Maybe I should leave you to your grief," He said. She reached out quickly to grab his hand, staring up at him, tears flowing anew.
"Pray stay with me," she pleaded, choking on her words. "Tis only you who understands."
Jeanette Winterson, Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit
[Text ID: The curious are always in some danger. If you are curious you might never come home, like all the men who now live with mermaids at the bottom of the sea.]
The priestess sat casually, a cushion separating her from the hard stone floor of the temple. Clad in gold and white silks, she spoke softly to the woman who had come to see her. Despite her tone, she seemed rather smug.
“Forget what?” The woman’s voice was wheezy. She suffered from an injury that hadn’t healed fully.
“What happens when you die.”
“I haven’t died.”
“Of course you have,” the priestess replied.“A couple of times. Yet your soul is…resilient. It refuses to stop til it is satisfied. It will not let you die until then.”
“Auroch shite.”
“Tis true. Do you not recall the time in the Black Shroud-”
“Twelveswood,” the woman corrected, interrupting.
“Twelveswood. Pray forgive me. Do you not recall the time in the Twelveswood when a wood wailer caught you, and stabbed you with his spear? You blacked out, and when you came to, he was dead, was he not?”
“Yeah…and the ground withered. I thought something had intervened. Still had to mend my wound, though. I guess he missed vital points.”
“No…his aim was true. He pierced your heart,” the priestess revealed. The woman shook her head, and stood up, acting as thought she was about to leave. “Your soul reacted as it is wont to do, stealing aether from him and the plants in the area to preserve its vessel.”
“This is such auroch shite.” The woman spread her arms in an exaggerated shrug, then folded them, pacing.“Let me get this straight: I died.” The priestess nodded. “Then my soul left my body, took care of business, and brought me back?” Again, the priestess nodded. “I don’t believe you.”
“If you believe me not, then why have you come?” the priestess asked. The woman gave an exasperated grunt, and continued pacing.”
“Fine. Let’s say I believe you. Why is this happening?”
“I know not, yet I suspect it has to do with the origins of your soul.”
“And that is?” the woman asked. The priestess seemed to consider for a moment.
“Tis best you do not know for now. I am quite certain you are not ready, given how difficult it is for you to accept what I have already revealed.”
“Seven hells, just cut to the chase already. I don’t care what I was. Just tell me what it has to do with me now.” The woman stopped pacing, and tapped her foot. The priestess smirked.
“Very well. Long ago, the original bearer of your soul made a pact to see something done. Twas something important. When calamity got in the way, they cursed themselves….and now none of you, once born, can truly die. You can only be rejoined.” The priestess grinned. “In truth, had your counterpart not made a mistake, you never would have been born at all.”
“I just want to serve my empire…my people, is that so much to ask?” The woman muttered. The priestess shook her head, chuckling. “Oh, what? What now?”
“If only it were so simple. The desires of your soul are powerful. They reach across time and space, searching for what was lost. Your service to your empire is part of that. Even when you were very young, it affected you. When you snuck aboard that caravan, it was not mere curiosity that drove you. You were being pulled.”
“This is so ridiculous,“ the woman groaned. “Pulled to what? Does this have to do with why I feel so lost, now?”
“I should think it does. As for what…I am afraid you shall have to ask your counterpart.”
“Fuck that.” The woman headed for the exit. “Astra inclinant, sed non obligant!” she shouted on her way out. The priestess smirked, repeating her words.
“The stars incline us, they do not bind us.” She spoke after the departing woman, though it was unlikely she was heard. “Fair travels, little hare, but take care. Tis not fate you are fighting.”
