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January 31 2018

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Reposted byseverakpaketwonkokaesekuchenBlackRAtno-longer-korePaseroVirusnothingiseverythingareyouboredyouamikaricocciuellakartofelargasekdotmariuszvertheerznuhfinkregh4pocvanitestraycatantihecn-nudelsalatloozikercliffordszpaqusDagarhenbugiemimi07wujcioBatdazzling42MaelstrombbcHanoistarbugfightlingvertheerBattlecakeNemoursankinmarbearztar

Okay, but imagine if...


Cedric Diggory hadn’t died.

Imagine, just for a moment, that when they take the portkey, instead of an Avada Kedavra, it’s a Stupefy that hits him. Or that the AK misses him by an inch, hits a grave instead, knocks him out for a second.

Imagine that everybody forgets about the Hufflepuff boy out cold on the floor, because they are so intent on resurrecting Voldemort. Peter forgets as he ties Harry to that statue. Voldemort forgets as he is dumped into a cauldron full of flesh and bone and blood. And every death eater that comes sooner or later, well, no one tells them about the boy either - there are more pressing concerns.

However, Harry doesn’t forget. Because Harry has been in that sort of situation since he was eleven. He’s used to looking out for others, by now. Hermione and the Troll, Ron on the chess game, Ginny in the Chamber, Sirius and Hagrid and even Buckbeak- Harry always looks out for everyone, and never forgets about anyone, even if they are not really his friends.

So while he stares in horror, while he’s powerless and sees his greatest foe come back to life, a tiny part of his mind is screaming at him to check on Cedric, to get them out of here. Both. Alive.

Now let’s say that the ceremony, and the Death Eater meeting after the resurrection takes time. Lots of it. Let’s say that Voldemort, being the drama queen he obviously is, takes his time, and enjoys every single second of attention he gets from his followers and that Potter brat.

Let’s say he takes enough time for Cedric to come back to consciousness.

He awakes, lying in the grass and dirt, surrounded by bits of stone, his head aching and confused. The cup is laying about, not too far from him, and he could take it to go back but- he’s a Hufflepuff. He’s loyal. He doesn’t forget either, and that’s why, even if he’s confused about why or how he’s here, he doesn’t take the cup and goes searching for Harry.

Now, the tournament is a vicious thing, isn’t it ? Who’s to say to poor confused Cedric that this is not one more, secret, task ?

So Cedric goes looking, wand in hand, ready to fight, because he’s a Hogwart champion - and really, a Graveyard ? That’s creepy. And because he’s on his guard, and he’s moving around silently, no one notices him creeping behind one of the graves. No one notices the Hufflepuff boy, his horrified expression, and his frantic gaze as he slowly understands that no, that wasn’t a task, and that wasn’t a dream either.

Maybe not even Harry, or maybe he does, but that’s not the important thing.

The important thing is that being in Hufflepuff doesn’t make you stupid at all. The important thing is that Cedric is a champion, and smart, and a quick thinker and a hard worker.

The important thing is that Cedric thinks fast, and casts an ‘Accio’ on the cup as he runs towards Harry while he duels Voldemort.

He breaks through the crowd of amazed and struck Death Eaters, catches Harry’s arm with one hand, and with Seeker reflexes, catches the cup with the other.

Cedric lives, and both Harry and him go back to Hogwarts, terrified, bloody, and flinching away from the sudden noise coming from the public. They both live, and thus no one notices that something is amiss immediately, no one sees their wild glances around - as if someone was still out to kill them. The public cheers, and sings the victory of both Hogwart’s champions, and they are suddenly hugged by their families - the Diggorys and Weasleys.

No one notices, and that’s why when the noise dies down, and someone casts a sonorus on them to ask them how they feel about that victory, everyone hears them say, in a still disbelieving and trembling voice.

“He’s back.”

Obviously, everyone is confused, but they start talking, a bit over each other really, but they are in shock - and they say he’s back, Voldemort’s back, and he took my blood, and we were in a graveyard, and I was knocked out, missed most of the ritual, but it was him, yeah, and there were Death Eaters, in a circle, torturing Harry, horrible, had to get away, he’s back, he’s back.

And that’s when the people notice their faces, the blood, Harry twitching fingers - cruciatus - and their wands still clenched in their fingers, as if ready to attack anyone on sight.

This time, though, Harry doesn’t get ushered away by fake-Moody - because Cedric still has a hand gripping his arm, and wont let go for the world. He tells Dumbledore, and their families, though, when the Headmaster asks them to talk “More calmly and clearly, please, young men” at the Infirmary. Barty Crouch Jr is still apprehended, and the real Moody discovered, and it puts their incredible tale in a new, horrific and real, light.

Imagine if Cedric Diggory lived.

Two witnesses of His return. One is Harry Potter, Hero and Saviour of the Wizarding world. The second is beloved Hufflepuff Prefect Cedric Diggory, Hogwarts Champion. Even if people didn’t believe the first, they would believe the second, and vice versa.

Obviously, the ministry doesn’t take it well, but Amos Diggory and the Weasleys, and Dumbledore make a move together. Susan Bones helps her fellow Hufflepuff by contacting her aunt. Together, they get memory evidence - and they even agree on submitting to truth serum.

Because if Harry alone couldn’t do it - or had no idea he could - Cedric is there, and his father works at the Ministry, and he’s a seventh year. He knows more, and he has people ready to help him - and if he asks them, to help Harry Potter.

Sure, the ministry would try to get all this under the rug, but they couldn’t. Because Weasleys, and Diggorys, and Dumbledore, and Bones, and even Longbottom and soon every name that has a contact in Hogwarts - except some of the Death Eaters - are pushing for the truth to get out, and with a bit of blackmail, Rita helps - and this time, the Daily Prophet can’t repress all of them.

Imagine if Cedric Diggory lived, and how the war would have turned.

Imagine just.




you know what? I don’t think children should be kissing in shows & movies. I mean if you think about it, adults are writing scripts, and then making child actors, who are almost always extremely uncomfortable and usually do not want to do it,  kiss in front of said adults, mainly for the enjoyment of other adults. It’s just creepy if you think about it for like 5 seconds, and given the huge amount of pedophiles working in the entertainment industry, it becomes even creepier. 

I mean you don’t have to totally get rid of stories about children having crushes & dating and what not, but it can very easily be done without showing them kissing and stuff. 

ok for real, I just watched the beyond stranger things discussion with the actors and the Max/Lucas kiss was apparently not in the script, and Max’s actress Sadie literally stated how anxious and uncomfortable she was when she was asked to do a kiss on the day of shooting. her first kiss was on a sweltering set in front of a hundred adults, extras, and her own mom.

and to top that shit off, one of the writers told her that they made her do it BECAUSE she was so freaked out about it!!! They used the actual words “it was your fault” to this actress. Fuck it, I’m pissed again so I’m gonna find and transcribe that part below…

Episode 2 of Beyond Stranger Things. (Paraphrased some because people were talking over each other and to remove unnecessary parts.)

Host: We have to talk about the kiss for Max and Lucas. How was shooting that?

Sadie: You didn’t– (points at Duffer brothers)

Duffer bro: This is all your fault.

Sadie: It is not my fault!

Duffer bro: It is.

Sadie: It was not written in the script. The kiss was not written in the script. I get there the first day of filming the snowball […] and one of you, I think it was you, Ross, said, “Sadie, ready for the kiss?” And I’m like, “What? No! No, that’s not in the script, that’s not happening.” And so the whole day I was stressed out. I was like, “Oh my god, am I gonna have to?” […] It didn’t happen that day, but then the second day of filming the Snowball…

Duffer bro: Yeah, but you reacted so strongly to this. I was just joking. And you were so freaked out that I was like, “Well, I gotta make her do it now.” That’s what happened.

Sadie: That’s why it’s my fault?

Duffer bro: That’s why I’m saying it’s your fault.

People use the fact that Eleven’s actress suggested the other kiss to justify it too, but she said she thought fans would be angry at her if it didn’t happen… I feel so bad for other if these little kids and also Duffer should just straight die.


the woman you’re becoming will cost you people, relationships, spaces, and material things. choose her over everything.

Why I Refuse To Support PETA








As most of you know, PETA (People for Ethical Treatment of Animals) produces lots of sexist, racist, fatphobic, and even ableist ads. Their ideologies match, unfortunately. They are incredibly unreasonable, too, and they effectively want to remove companion animals from human contact entirely.

Members of PETA have done the following to me.

  • Attempted to take my service dog’s leash
  • Threatened to take him away
  • Sent me death threats
  • Threatened to euthanize him out of “mercy”
  • Claimed that I am a “slavedriver” and “active participant in the speciesist h*l*caust” (Ah yes, please tell the romani-german-native girl that she’s basically a Nazi. Good idea.)
  • Left threatening voicemails on my phone.
  • Scared me so badly that I had to move house at one point
  • Grabbed my service dog
  • Tried to pry my hand off of my service dog’s harness
  • Threw paint on a faux fur-lined coat I was wearing (the paint got matted in my hair to the point where I had to shave my head)
  • Speaks openly on their hatred for service dog handlers.


Their “Adoption” services are a complete lie. Do not bring an animal to a PETA facility or allow PETA volunteers or employees to take an animal. THEY WILL KILL IT. 

Their own documentation shows that they euthanize approximately 90 - 97% of all animals they take in, on a yearly basis. This includes everything from seriously injured/ill animals, to healthy puppies and kittens.

They support Breed Specific Legislation, and call for the mass extermination of all “Pit Bull-type dogs”.

if there is anyone out there who doesn’t know this - this is really important. PETA kills and terrorizes animals. They do so for their own propaganda and in turn, profit. There is nothing ethical about their treatment of animals let alone other human beings.

Their position is, supposedly, that animals are equal to humans and as such use really ableist, racist, and wildly inappropriate metaphors that undermine real human oppression and suffering. Often just for shock value. If they applied their principle, then they are basically saying that mentally ill or struggling and homeless humans should be put to death on mass.

In addition to all of the above, they also promote the idea that dairy products cause autism.

Plus, they harassed Steve Irwin’s family while they were grieving his death. 

They’re pretty terrible.

The Humane Society of the United States and the SPCA are where it’s at, if you want broad, effective, and ethical animal rights organizations on a national scale, though you can be really effective seeking out your local no-kill shelter or wildlife refuge.

Some more sources

About why PETA

is awful

PETA is grooosss

Seriously fuck PETA

Reminder for the day to never, EVER support PETA.

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omg I’m doing research for one of projects for college, and apparently, girls learn better when they’re in an all girls class, but boys learn even worse when they’re in an all boys class, because all the negative things become even stronger of there are no girls to act as “buffer”

get rid of the boys and let girl learn in peace, i couldn’t care less about them

It’s not our job to be a “buffer”

Separate boys from girls then, they don’t have to be acting like mothers at age 12, if boys ruin the education of others boys, um, idk, fix their behavior maybe?

I work at uni. My program is very competitive. Like you need a 92% or more to get in. We get 10x the applications than we can accept. So. This means our program is 95% female. Simply because girls do better in highschool than boys. Its literally that simple. However. This is a HUGE deal in the administration! Because OMG all those poor boys with less than a 92% can’t get into our program and woe is me, those poor poor boys. Every year we meet to talk about ways to “rectify” this “problem”. One year they’re going to stop inviting me to these meetings. Because I always ask questions like “how do we get boys into the program with lower GPAs without denying girls with higher GPAs? And how is giving boys preferential treatment not sexist?” Keep going good ladies, I’m saving your seat!

This type of thing always happens when women are dominating something, protocols are changed to accommodate and benefit men, and if this strategy isn’t successful the field is devalued.

Keep the good work!

The amount of times I heard my grandfather talk about the ‘feminization’ of schools because he wanted to blame the system for boys under performing (or, more accurately: girls out performing the boys) instead of, ya know, boys’ entitled attitudes and overall piss poor behavior when at school.

When women fail at something: there must be something wrong with women
When women succeed at something: there must be something wrong with the system

I think I’ve talked about it before on other posts, but I once had an anthropology class that, completely unintentionally, was all women and one man, and he dropped the course after two weeks. The other section of the same anthropology class, taught by the same professor, was mixed with men and women. So, since it was anthropology, she asked if it was cool if she took notes. She said right away that the all female class had a wildly different vibe, that we spoke and acted differently and had different social expectations of her and the rest of the class, and that we let students complete their thoughts before disagreeing, while the mixed class was highly traditional and almost entirely male dominated because every time a woman spoke, a man jumped in halfway through to “correct” her by saying the same thing. Its a very small sample size, but I think about this a lot

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Sinister sound of Tyrannosaurus Rex heard for first time in 66 million years






The fearsome roar of Tyrannosaurus Rex as portrayed in film has left many a cinema-goer quaking in their seat.

But new research suggests the king of the dinosaurs made a far more sinister sound.

For a new BBC documentary, naturalist Chris Packham visited Julia Clarke, professor of Vertebrate Palaeontology at the University of Texas, to test out a the theory that dinosaurs actually sounded more like birds and reptiles, than today’s predatory mammals. - Source

reblogging for later!

Okay, yeah, that is scary as FUCK, oh my god.

Oh yeah, that’s a sound that’ll haunt me. I mean they admit their science is far from conclusive, but that sound… yeah, if I heard that in an alley I’d start running like fuck.

https://youtu.be/cpipaUfcnmM you have to use headphones though otherwise you won’t be able to hear it, even with your sound turned way up


let’s say this before black panther comes out: watch how you talk about shuri. she is 16 years old. she is not a woman she is a girl, a teenager. dont be a creep about her and do not start sexualizing her character. black children, especially black girls tend to be viewed as older which can be incredibly harmful, and if you do it to a fictional character that means you’d do it in real life





When I complain about being a ‘gifted’ kid who grew into a talentless adult I don’t mean that I’m not trying to work on my talents or anything

I mean that the ‘gifts’ I had are useless

Reading books above my age isn’t a talent when I’m not eleven

Knowing big words isn’t a talent when I’m not a kid, it’s just growing up

It’s just a weird thing that happens and it feels shitty when you’re brought up being told you’re an exceptional child only to realise as an adult you’re just average


I did a lot of reading about gifted kids and especially gifted adults when I got my “diagnosis” because I was told I was gifted at 23 and well, it serves no purpose to have a confirmation that you’re gifted at 23

Thing is, gifted children are not amazingly better than everyone else. Gifted brains just don’t work the same so they build their skills in a different order

Basically when you’re very young, most people brain learn social skills and how to interact with their peers, but gifted brains are already at the next step which is how to understand and interact with the world

That makes the stereotypical young children that are very good at math, always asking questions about how things work, very upset when they don’t know a thing

But the thing is, when everyone gets older, they’ve mastered most social skills and now turn towards understanding the world

But the gifted children have already mastered that part and are turning towards how to build social skills. Except there’s no one left to teach us about that! Because we’re late to that party

Long story short, at the end everyone, gifted or not, goes through all the necessary steps to make functioning adults, so the difference that was obvious as a child has disappeared

But us gifted people often end up with social anxiety and impostor syndrome because we are actually less equipped than others to face a world that taught everyone to be confident and talk to people while we were busy reading books above our age

……………that last paragraph.








heres a cool idea: what if in 2017 tumblr commie kids gave up the creepy romanticization of the soviet union thing in favor of the aesthetics of american labor history–the haymarket riot, the pullman strike, the great railroad strike, emma goldman & yiddish socialism, woody guthrie, pete seeger, paul robeson, the iww and the 1912 textile workers’ strike, the ladies’ garment workers’ union, wpa murals, the american communist party, bread and roses, the union maid. that’s the Good Shit if yr looking for historical leftist culture imo

Seriously tho, kids. 

The USSR was a blood-soaked mess. A racist, anti-semitic, sexist blood-soaked mess at that. Do not repeat the sins of the Left of the 60s/etc by ignoring that. (Same goes for Maoist China, etc.) To ignore that is to literally piss on a truly appalling number of graves As an allegory, Animal Farm’s inaccuracies were that it’s not grim and horrific enough. The most conservative and hesitant and “well we don’t want to be hysterical about this” count of Stalin’s death toll, not including famine-victims, is 4 million; the one which, after various amounts of research, I find most convincing is about 20 million. Mao’s Great Leap Forward killed anywhere from 18 to 50 million, and we have literal footage of Tienamen, guys. 

This is not the good example you are looking for. Do not romanticise them. 

100% go back, as OP says, to the things that actually had good results (like a 40 hour work-week and basic human worker’s rights and shite) and did not do them over mountains of corpses. We have lots! They even included (gosh!) women! and queers! and people of colour/different ethnicities! They do all the things you want. 

These are your models. Not those bloody handed bastards over there. 

honestly, now is more important than ever to remember the historical contributions that the working class has made for social movements, given how much the media have taken blaming them for the rise of fascism. 

From Trump to Brexit, the narrative being spun has been that of “the working class were too poor and too dumb to know better” and how both Brexit and Trump spoke for them or to them, even though a majority of that demographic are non-white/immigrant/minorities who are severely affected by the political outcome. It’s a false narrative and it is both classist and racist and erases the fact that labour rights and worker’s rights and social rights in West Europe and Americas have come from and were heavily supported by the socialist left and working classes. 

Just to start off, I was reading the other day about The 1936 Battle of Cable Street, which was a stand organised by the local working class comprising of Jewish locals, the Irish locals, Labour and Communist party members in a demonstration against a Nazi march that lead to confrontation with the police (Discworld fans, read the fuck up about this because you will find a lot of what Pratchett was referencing in Night Watch). 

I’m sure there’s probably a lot more examples, and what OP mentioned definitely deserves more historical context and background. But the fact is that those historical contexts are either forgotten or ignored by the tumblr social justice commie kids scene because clueless privileged teenagers are more willing to worship dead genocidal dictators for cheap aesthetics than do actual fucking research. 

There’s a difference between celebrating bloody totalitarian regimes and celebrating actual socialist and leftist movements that had a positive outcome, in all their complexities, struggles and conflicts. And that difference means research and looking at the contexts of historical and social political landscapes of the time, the sum of which unfortunately can’t be reduced to sickle-and-hammer on a pastel colour palette.  

Also please be aware that the horrors that were brought down on people in the USSR and other regimes are within living memory. There are witnesses, victims and perpetrators STILL ALIVE, and potentially on tumblr. This is not some far off thing that happened hundreds of years ago. PLEASE understand how the trivializing and romanticizing of these regimes and their imagery can be very triggering.

My family on my father’s side ended up in Canada fleeing the Holodomor. That whole side of my family tree just ends around 1933 - the records to trace it back any further than that simply don’t exist. Like, I’m sympathetic to socalist causes, but if you want to get me on side, maybe don’t hold up the regime that murdered 50% of my ancestors as your aspirational ideal?

My only problem with this post is the fact that most Tumblr commies aren’t tankies, that is Twitter commies.



An artist : Aw man! I saw my arts were reposted on Instagram. I’ve asked them to take my arts down but they ignored me.

Me : Say no more! Click this link, then click ‘fill out this form’. Fill the form and wait for about 1-2 days, the staffs will remove the image you were reporting from the reposter’s account :^)

hope you don’t mind me adding some more info :’D

Many websites have those complaint forms you need to fill out to submit DMCA notice. Here are some of them:

Usually links to those forms can be found on website’s Terms of Service pages. (search for copyright or DMCA)

Any content you’ve created, is copyrighted by you. You have full right to ask staff to delete repost. Your works deserve to be protected. ♥



A wonderful animation full of flower symbolism in which a teenage girl cuts her hair short, becomes a crossdresser, and poses as a dude while joining a bunch of guys in an Asian country whose leader is an attractive love interest who doesn’t realize she’s a girl at first until she’s seen partially nude.

kiss kiss kill the huns 


Emoji spell for extreme good luck for the next two months


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These Are Not Your Negroes




Dear White People,

I know that you are excited about Black Panther. I know that all the memes that Black Tumblr and Black Twitter are creating are hilarious and wonderful, as is all media we create. After all, it’s already the best Marvel movie ever made, with the most beautiful cast, and the most perfect costumes and special effects.

That being said though… please think long and hard about how you talk about characters in this movie. T’challa is not your bae. Killmonger is not your precious son. Shuri is not your wife. Absolutely none of the characters are your children or your smol anything. Most specifically? The characters AREN’T YOURS.

The language of anti-black racism is often couched in terms of infantilization and ownership. I don’t give a shit if you’re just putting it in tags, be careful how you interact textually and mentally with black characters.

Black Panther is a movie for black people. Sure, a lot of people are going to see it, but this movie is, for many a black nerd, a lifelong dream. It’s ours, and while you get to share it, you don’t get to fucking claim it. 

The MCU fandom already turns black characters into mammys and servants and sidekicks for their white favs, and it’s bullshit. You turn black pain into plot points for your white favs. Basically you have a long history of treating black characters like shit, and I’m here to tell you to cut that shit out.

Your white favs do not belong in Wakanda. They don’t belong there in meta, in head canons, in fic. The only reason Buckwheat Barnes gets to be there is because he’s currently being used as a decorative ice sculpture for state dinners. You have literally the rest of the entire fucking MCU, go play in that sandbox and leave Wakanda alone. 


Me, and Black Fans Everywhere Who Are Tired of Your Shit

P.S. I know y’all won’t listen and a bunch of you are gonna get your panties in a twist over this, but let this serve as a letter of notice that I will come for you if I see even a HINT of White Nonsense™ on posts about Black Panther and it’s cast.

I am reblogging this from @athynaoswald because her notes were flawless and I want to share. White people, this is what “getting it” looks like.

#a lot of the responses seem to be taking this as discouraging white people from seeing or enjoying black panther #but like as a white person reading ops post this says to me go see and enjoy this movie and be respectful of the characters 

#the thing about infantalizing especially cause like yeah that’s a way a lot of people including me interact with characters in general #calling them smol or precious but like from what I have read that has a whole different context when it comes to black characters #because of racism and historical contexts like op said 

#and then also just ya know not using wakanda as a playground for white people seems pretty simple to me #like ah yes let’s put all my white characters into wakanda seems too close to colonization 

#tldr op isn’t saying don’t see the movie they’re saying be responsible with how you engage with fiction

You, my friend, get it, and are invited to come to the opening night showing of Black Panther.

Since everyone is so excited about the Black Panther premiere (hooooooooly shit everyone looks amazing) I figured I’d resurrect this post. Give your love to the movie, give your dollars to the movie, give your love to the cast, think twice before you post anything out loud on the internet and/or wear Black Panther merch. It’s not ours and that’s okay!

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“The Lindworm” by Naomi Butterfield


A King and Queen ruled in a time of peace and abundance; the only mar upon their happiness was that they had no children, through their youth and even into their middle age, despite many fervent hopes and prayers. One day the Queen went walking on a forest path without her attendants. There, in the dark quiet of her despair, an old woman found her. 

“My dear,” asked the woman, “why are you so sad?”

“It doesn’t matter,” answered the Queen, gently. “It wouldn’t make a difference if you knew.”

“You may be surprised.“ 

“The King and I have no children. He lacks an heir, and I have always wanted a child of my own to care for. But you see, that’s not something you can help.”

“Of course it is,” nodded the woman, for naturally she was a witch. “Listen and do as I say; take a drinking cup and place it upside-down in your garden tonight. In the morning, you will find two roses beneath it - one red, one white. If you eat the red rose you shall give birth to a son, and the white rose shall give you a girl. But remember that you must not eat both.”

“Not both?”

“No,” the woman said. 

Astonished, and not a little suspicious, the Queen agreed. That night she did as the old woman had instructed, and in the morning she discovered two small roses under the cup’s brim. 

“But which one should I choose?” thought the Queen. “If I have a son, he may grow into a man who marches off to war and dies. If I have a daughter, she may stay longer with me, but I will have to see her given away in marriage. In the end, I may have no child after all.”

At last she decided on the white rose, but it was so sweet to the taste - and the thought of losing a daughter to marriage was so bitter - that she ate the red rose as well, hardly remembering the old woman’s warning.

Shortly afterwards, as happens in such stories, the Queen was found to be with child. Her husband was traveling when the time came for her to give birth, and so he did not bear witness to what happened, which was this:

The Queen’s first child was no child at all, but instead there tumbled forth from her body the long, scaly one of a lindworm, a hideous dragon with a venomous bite. It scrabbled out the window on its two legs, even before the terrified midwives could move to do anything, and amidst the chaos the Queen delivered a second child as well. This one was a fine, handsome boy, healthy and perfectly formed, and the Queen made her midwives swear that they would tell no one what they had seen. And when the King arrived home, joyous at the news of his son’s birth, not a word was said. 

Years passed, so that the Queen wondered if it had not been a terrible dream. Soon enough it came time for the prince to find a wife, and he set out with his guard to a neighboring kingdom to ask for its princess’s hand in marriage. But suddenly a great lindworm appeared, and laid itself before the prince’s horse, and from its jagged-tooth mouth came a voice:

“A bride for me before a bride for you!”

The prince and his company turned about to flee. The Lindworm blocked their passage and spoke again.

“A bride for me before a bride for you!”

The prince journeyed home to tell his parents. Distraught, the Queen confessed that it was true. The Lindworm was indeed the elder brother of the prince, and so by rights should marry first. The King wrote to the ruler of a distant land, asking that they send their princess to marry his son: but he did not say which one.

A lovely princess journeyed to the kingdom, and did not see her bridegroom until he appeared beside her in the Great Hall, and by then (naturally) it was too late. The next morning they found the Lindworm asleep alone in the bridal bedchamber, and it was quite clear he had devoured his new wife. 

A second princess was sent, and a third. Both met the same fate, but each time the prince dared to embark on a journey, the Lindworm would appear again and speak: 

“A bride for me before a bride for you!”

“Father,” the prince said, “ we must find a wife for my elder brother.”

“And where am I to find her?” asked the King. “We have already made enemies of the men who sent their daughters to us. Stories are spreading fast, and I am sure no princess would dare to come now.”

So instead the King went to the royal gardener’s cottage, where he knew the old man lived with his only daughter. 

“Will you give me your daughter to marry my son, the Lindworm?” asked the King.

“No!” cried the gardener. “Please, she is everything I have in this world. Your monstrous son has eaten his way through three princesses, and he’ll gobble her up just the same. She’s too good for such a fate.”

“You must,” the King said, “You must.”

Distraught, the gardener told his daughter everything. She agreed to the King’s request and went into the forest so that her father would not see her weeping.

And there, in the dark quiet of her despair, an old woman found her. 

“My dear,” asked the woman, “why are you so sad?”

“I’m sorry,” answered the girl, kindly. “It wouldn’t make a difference if I told you.”

“You may be surprised.“ 

“How can that be? I’m to be married to the King’s son, the Lindworm. He’s eaten his first three brides, and I don’t know what will stop me from meeting the same end. That’s not something  you can help me with.”

“Of course it is,” nodded the woman again. “Listen and do as I say. Before the marriage ceremony, dress yourself in ten snow-white shifts beneath your gown. Ask that a tub of lye, a tub of milk, and as many birch rods as a man can carry be brought to your bridal chamber. After you are wed, and your husband orders you to disrobe, bid him to shed a skin first. He will ask you this nine times, and when you are left wearing one shift you must whip him with the rods, wash him in the lye, bath him in the milk, wrap him in the discarded shifts, and hold him in your arms.”

“Do I truly have to hold him?” the girl asked, in disgust.

“You must. It may mean your life.”

The girl was suspicious, but she agreed to the woman’s plan however absurd it seemed. When the day came for the marriage, she dressed herself in ten white shifts before donning the heavy gown they offered her. When she looked upon her husband for the first time, waiting for her in the Great Hall, her steps did not falter. And when she asked for the rods, the lye, and the milk, she said it with such ease that the servant could do nothing but obey.

Finally, the girl and the Lindworm were left alone in the darkened bedchamber. For a moment she listened to the rasp and click of his scales on stone, and heard his soughing breath. 

“Maiden,” said the Lindworm, “shed your shift for me.”

“Prince Lindworm,” answered the girl, “shed your skin first!”

“No one has ever asked me that before,” the answer came.

“I am asking it of you now.“ 

So the Lindworm shed a skin, and the girl shed a shift, but she revealed the second shift underneath. 

“Maiden,” said the Lindworm, a second time, “shed your shift for me.”

“Prince Lindworm,” answered the girl, again, “shed your skin first!”

They repeated this, nine times in all, and each time the Lindworm shed a skin the girl removed another white shift, until she was left wearing one.

The Lindworm, shivering and weak and bloodied, spoke his request a last time.

“Wife,” asked the Lindworm, “will you shed your shift for me?”

“Husband,“answered the girl, “will you shed your skin first?”

And the Lindworm did as she asked of him, tearing himself free of scales and armor even to the bare flesh beneath, and the girl whipped the writhing creature with her birch rods until they snapped; she carried the whole massive length of him to the tubs, lye and milk, washed him clean and bathed him and swathed him in the shifts like a great, terrible child, collapsed to the floor with her husband in her arms, and there she stayed until, exhausted, she fell asleep.

When she woke, it was to the timid knocking of a servant on the door. 

“Princess?” asked the servant. “Princess? Are you alive?”

The girl looked about the bedchamber: there in the morning light were the dried skins, and the tubs, and the broken rods, and the blood, and in her arms slept a pale, weary, but very handsome man. 

“Yes,” she answered. “Yes, I am.”

The King and Queen were astounded and thrilled to hear how the girl had saved their son from his curse, and she ruled together with her husband for many long years, and thus closes our tale of the most intense game of strip poker that you shall ever hear.

This whole tale is amazing. I lost it at the last part oh man.

January 30 2018

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give hope

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high res Sombra for @decapitated!

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