Latest Posts by aquirkynerd - Page 2

Let Me Put Myself In Your Shoes, As A Puppet Loosely Strung-

Baron, Fabian Seacaster, & Adaine Abernant || Fantasy High: Junior Year

normally clerics use divine magic to work miracles amongst the living but i think kristen is going to use her mortality to work miracles amongst divinity

WAIT! WAIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

no because I'm gonna fantasy high analysis, spoilers for the most recent episode of junior year (EP 9)

so we all know the rat grinders are clear bad kid parallels. this is a thing that's well known and pretty obvious.

and buddy dawn is a parallel of Kristen. he's what she used to be, what she almost was if it wasn't for the bad kids and her experiences and her strength to leave helio. he's condescending and smiles too much and pretends to drink to be cool, but everyone knows it's just water. he's ready to talk about helio, to spread the good word, hes proper and polite and cordial but with the underlying condescension of a boy raised under horrible ideals.

but even more heartbreaking to me is that there's another kristen parallel. because lucy frostblade is also a kristen parallel. both of them have gods who others perceive as negative. winter and sorrow, mystery and doubt. the two go hand in hand. but each of them wants to worship in a way that's helpful, that's kind and caring and deeply human, despite only one of them being "human." warmth, not despite the cold, but because of it. safety, not despite the doubt, but found within it. at their core, they're both deeply kind, caring, struggling teenagers. they want to do the right thing, but they're trying to grapple with religious changes and paperwork and life in general.

and both lucy and kristen have a deep connection to nameless gods. dead gods, ones who maybe they could have saved if they just tried a little harder. they've both come face to face with death. kristen got a second chance, a third chance, as many as she needed. lucy didn't have that luxury.

if kristen hadn't changed from helio, hadn't had her journey of love and acceptance and discovery, maybe she would be a buddy dawn, standing in the corner of a party and judging everyone there for living their lives wrong, always on the outskirts.

but maybe she'd be a lucy frostblade, beaten down, bruised, brutalized, just for loving in a way that people couldn't accept. for caring too much. for being too kind.

because at kristens center has always been a girl who wants to make friends, to keep them safe, to heal and save and bring light.

after all, mortals are made to keep each other warm.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again: you can call Fantasy High a magic version of The Breakfast Club all you want, but Fantasy High is ACTUALLY a magic version of Lemonade Mouth

Brenann's pronunciation of Oisín is not quite correct

It is pronounced Ush-een, and spelt with a fada which is the accent over the vowel, like this: Oisín. To get the accent letters on mobile, you can press and hold the vowel

Thank you, please reblog just so people know how to pronounce + spell

Zach’s cold shot of “oh good she finally learnt how to pronounce the word huge” is great but let’s not forget that ms. McKenna immediately dedicated herself to not only saying it wrong but saying it wrong in a different way every single time

Lautski Week Day 5 (Alt prompt: Fairy Tale)

(warning: i am sucker for fairy tales, so this one is LONG. putting most of it under a read more, OR if you'd rather read it on AO3, here it is)

Pete really had to have had the worst luck in the world, the more he thought about it. Being the spare in heir and spare, though his birth hadn’t exactly been planned in the first place, and being such a sickly little thing he’d nearly killed his poor mother trying to arrive. Then to carry that same ailment for the rest of his life, a dizziness he could never quite name if he ever found himself too overwhelmed or overworked, and could only hope to cure with a little rest and food if there was any available. Spending his whole life knowing he could get away with anything since his elder brother was the heir, being grateful he was out of the court’s watchful eye and hurting over lack of conversation with his parents nonetheless, feeling isolated from the castle staff and having no one his own age to ever talk to, being so on the outside from the rest of the world he’d wish he could flat-out be invisible instead. It’s not like things would be any different. But then he just had to go and offend the wrong person, during one of his daily walks in the courtyard, when he bumped into an odd man in a yellow coat. He briefly assumed the man to be a gardener, but as he tried to at least know the names of all the people employed at the castle, it irked Pete that he didn’t recognize this man specifically. Pete asked him, “who are you?” and in response, the man laughed, “a bastard!”

All at once, Pete felt a rush of energy flow through him. He looked down. His sleeves were there. The cuffs were there. His hands were not.

“Got your wish, haven’t you, Petey?”

Pete began to apologize to the man, the warlock or demon or whatever else he could have been, if he caused any harm walking into him or speaking so curtly, but he refused to listen to a word of it.

The rules were laid out to him simply: the young prince was now invisible, doomed to roam the world faceless for the rest of his days unless someone loved him above all else for his heart and mind alone.

And there he was, five months later, still wandering. 

He’d slipped away from the castle that night, assuming no one would notice, though by now, rumors of the missing prince’s whereabouts were engulfing the people of the kingdom, some even claiming that the crown prince himself would pay a hefty sum to anyone who could deliver the safe return of his younger brother.

Perhaps if he’d stayed home and told his pitiful story to his family, they would have hosted a matchmaking ball just for him, inviting all the young noble ladies of the land for a chance to meet the prince and win his heart. It wouldn’t have worked, of course. He would need to be the one winning someone’s heart, and the game of love was never something he excelled in—seemingly another curse, a family one. And when people did see him now, they always screamed and ran in fear upon seeing his faceless and undefined form, convinced he was a specter, or in extreme cases, a demon. On two separate occasions, a priest would be dragged back to where he’d tried to take camp, and the party would attempt to exorcize him. By sheer stroke of luck did he come across a cloak abandoned in a tailor’s scraps, and thanking whatever benevolent force was out there, took the coak and made it his new shield from humiliation and window into the world.

Often, he found himself drawn to the marketplace nearest wherever in the woods he’d chosen to make home. He used to simply buy what he needed, but after enough time, funds were low, and he drew enough attention to himself when he had gold coins on him before. Now though, he’d trade or barter, plants he found in the woods and sticks for kindling in turn for fresh food and water. And because no one ever saw his face, nor questioned the hood of his cloak, he was never given much more than a second glance. Some merchants had taken an appreciation—dare he assume fondness—for the quiet boy who emerge from the woods once a week, knew just enough about medicinal and edible plants to barter for his needs, and disappeared again just as soon. He wasn’t quite invisible to them. But he was nameless, which was in many ways, the same thing. 

One day, a girl he’d done business for a few times but never truly talked to spoke up to him. 

“What’s with the hood, anyway? It’s not that cool out.”

From what he’d picked up, this girl was very wealthy, given the hundreds of dollars worth of goods in her little corner. More often than not, a man that resembled her or a red-headed woman took the reins, leading him to believe she was from a rich merchant family, or a noblewoman whose family was somewhere in the middle of the ranks. 

“It’s to hide myself,” he finally eventually answered. He extended his gathering of wild mint to her. “I have the usual request from here. Your father said next time I came with some I could trade for some of your chocolates.”

He didn’t think it was a very fair trade. Before, he could access those soft, sweet treats whenever he wanted. They were even one of the few things that could ease him quickly when his mysterious illness struck. Surviving on his own with dwindling funds taught him how expensive it was to the common man. And he knew enough about bartering now he didn’t think he could ever pay enough, physically or in gratitude. 

The girl took the fresh herbs and gave him a whole handful of the candy. “I put him up to that, actually,” she said. “You’re one of our best customers when it comes to sweet things.”

“My tooth for a bit of sugar can never quite be satisfied,” he admitted, “and they’re one of the few things that can help me get past my ailments when I’m dizzy.”

“I see,” she said. “But let’s go back to the original topic. Why do you hide your face?”

“People always scream when they see me.”

“Surely you’re not so frightening under there.”

Pete shook his head. “If I saw someone else like me I’d take quite the fright, too.”

“And that is because…”

Pete stayed silent for a moment. “It’s hard to explain. And impossible to believe.”

“Mysterious. I like it.”

If Pete had a visible face, he’d be blushing. “Forgive me,” he said. “I’ve been coming by this market for the past two months and I’ve neglected to learn your name.”

“Stephanie,” she said. “Now you have to repay me the favor.”

“Peter,” he said. “My name is Peter.”

“Well, Peter, enjoy your chocolates. Though I hope you don’t have to eat them all next time you’re sick.”

“I hope the same thing for myself,” he said. And with that, he was off and onto the next errand. 

The next week, Stephanie was at the booth again. She flagged him down. 

“I have nothing to trade to you today,” Pete started. 

“I hoped you’d give me a chance to just talk, learn a little more about the mysterious boy who shows up and disappears like clockwork,” she said. 

“There’s not much to me,” he said. “I left home to see if my luck would change, that’s all.”

“And?”

“And it hasn’t.”

Stephanie nodded, smiling a sad and sympathetic smile. “At least that means you get to be a little closer to here. You’re quite welcome around town.”

“I have my own shelter set up in the woods.”

“Well, would you ever consider one cooked dinner in a warm house?” she asked. “Just one night away from there?”

“I can’t risk it,” Pete said. “Wild animals or bandits could get to my resources. And I’d still rather not reveal myself.”

“I’m sure with a gentle demeanor like yours, no appearance could be as bad as you think it is.”

Pete thought for a second. Stephanie did not come across as scared of anything, though he still couldn’t guarantee that she would be still if she did see him. 

That headstrong nature and generosity seemed to win him over, though. 

“…do you really wish to see what’s underneath this hood?” he asked. 

“Yes.”

“Then meet me at the edge of the woods, tonight.”

He waited. And just as the sun finally sank beneath the horizon, she appeared to him, lantern lit. 

“I understand if you scream or run away,” he warned her, “But please don’t bring an exorcist or angry mob to me. I’ve made my new home here.”

“I don’t understand,” Stephanie told him. 

Pete only sighed, pulling down his hood. Stephanie stared. 

She did not scream. She did not run. She seemed not to react at all. 

“How did this happen to you?” she asked after what could have been mere moments but to the young prince seemed an excruciating lifetime. 

“…cursed by upsetting the wrong man,” he said. “It can only be broken if someone loves me for my heart and mind. I know that will never happen, so I’ve made my peace wandering the world this way.”

Stephanie drew closer, outreaching her arm. “Give me your hands,” she instructed. Pete, with some effort, trying to remember where each finger was, eventually interlocked his own hands in hers. She smiled. 

“You are not a monster, no matter what you think of yourself,” she said. “You’re a gentle and intelligent boy. And my favorite customer.”

“You’re my favorite merchant,” he said. 

Stephanie blushed and grinned. 

She came back to him every afternoon he did not come into town. They’d talk for hours on end as she helped him gather supplies and they would talk about whatever came to mind. About science, and the market, and home. About how he missed his and she resented hers. 

On one of the days, they talked about love, how Peter was sure that if it existed, it was not his destiny. 

“My parents were betrothed at a young age. They never got the chance to choose what they wanted themselves. My brother is a hopeless romantic, convinced he must be Romeo Montague himself, but can never find himself a beloved. Surely it must be in my blood. My fate, even.”

“Perhaps you could be the one to break fate itself,” Stephanie said. “You’ve got your own charm. I think you could do it.”

Pete shrugged. “I’ve accepted my fate. I just feel fortunate I have you as company.”

“It’s my greatest honor, Peter.”

Some more weeks later, on the summer solstice, she snuck out just to be with him at his camp as the stars glowed above. 

“I even brought you a special gift,” she told him. 

She held out a large bar of chocolate to him. He took it gratefully. 

“Thank you,” he said, and instantly, he broke it in half, handing one of the pieces back to her. 

She shook her head. “Peter, I could never—”

“I insist,” he cut in. “That’s all I’d like to do. Share with my most cherished friend.”

She took the other half, smiling fondly as she did. “Most cherished?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’re in agreement, then,” she said. “You’re not so bad, yourself.”

He sat. She slid down next to him. Staring up at the stars above them, the company of their respective cherished one was all they needed on that sweet, warm summer night. 

Pete couldn’t stop himself at one point, when he noticed a particularly bright star in the sky. He gently took her hand to gesture to her what he would have pointed out. “That one’s called Vega,” he said. “It’s one of the brightest named stars in our sky.” 

“Really?” she said, seemingly mildly impressed by his sudden show of knowledge. 

“Mm-hm.” He moved her hand carefully to point out its surrounding stars. “And all of these make up Lyra. The myth goes that the sun god Apollo gave his son, Orpheus, a lyre because he was one of the most talented musicians in Greece. When Orpheus lost his wife, his music alone was enough to convince Hades to go into the underworld and free her.”

“And did he?”

“No,” Pete said. “He looked back before she was in the light and so Eurydice had to return to the darkness.”

Stephanie sighed. “What an awful story.”

“It’s a beautiful one.”

“It’s tragic.”

“That’s what makes it so special, I think. A man, so in love with his wife, that he would literally walk into hell for her, and so desperate to hold her again he turned even if he could see her but for just one moment.”

“I’d rather see a happy ending for young lovers,” Stephanie said. She glanced over at him. “You know a lot about that kind of thing.”

“It was part of my education.”

“Only the especially wealthy think to teach that.”

“Yes.”

A long beat held the two quiet for for a long time. Stephanie spoke up again first. “You’re the missing prince.”

Pete knew he couldn’t really deny it. “I’m the missing prince,” he echoed. 

“…y’know, your curse might have done one good thing.”

“What’s that?”

“We didn’t have to worry about titles. We get to be ourselves around each other.”

He wouldn’t deny that, either. 

Deep into the night, when the only other creatures still stirring were the fireflies, she bestowed him another gift: a simple kiss. A token between two new young lovers, only desperate to not face the same tragedy as so many others. As sleep conquered him, Pete half-sensed the most wonderful rush coursing through his body. Though of course, that could have been just a dream, or pure elation to be there with Stephanie. 

He woke early in the morning, just as the sun only began to rise, like he’d done his whole life. 

Stephanie had made her own camp, sleeping just three feet away from him. She really could have gone home. He still appreciated that even in rest, they were able to keep each other company. 

So he rose, preparing for his daily routine, foraging for plants for both himself and the marketplace, and reaching out for his satchel, a change had become obvious. There was no empty space or missing pieces, but instead, his form had a definitive end. His hands. 

His cry of shock and elation jostled Stephanie awake, already prepping to look for him. 

“Peter?! Peter are you—” She looked up then, seeing the smiling, if not somewhat awkward prince in front of her for the first time. She grinned at him. She stood, slowly at first, only to then rush over to give him a proper hug. 

“Welcome back,” she said. “It’s good to finally see you.”

“It’s good to finally be seen,” he said. 

The prince and his lover had a decision to make, on what to do next. Peter thought it would be for the best to at least go home briefly, to assure his family that he was alive and well, but he didn’t want to force Stephanie to leave her own home behind. To his surprise, she insisted on making the journey with him. Not for the reward, but for Peter’s own sake. 

When they reached the palace he was once sure he’d never see again, they were allowed in, Peter and Stephanie finally getting to tell the king, queen, and crown prince the long story. But when Stephanie was asked about the prize for returning him, she politely declined. All she wanted was Peter himself. His happiness, his safety, and his mind. 

Though not quick to marry their younger son off, the king and queen did allow the romance to continue. If it had saved their son, then a love like theirs was one of the most precious things in the world. 

With the prince restored and the young couple happy, the tale ends like any good fairy tale, with happily ever after.

TGWDLM as John Mulaney Quotes

Paul:

Emma:

Ted:

Bill:

Charolette:

Hidgens:

Alice:

Mr. Davidson: