#but not so much that it tasted like potpourri

[after-witch]

life update part deux

So um!

My house is sold. Everything is done on that end. I’m signing my apartment lease today. (And I found out the laundry facilities are on the first floor and not the basement which means my disabled ass won’t have to try to lug laundry up stairs!!!)

I uhhh. Huh. I’m relieved in a way that I can’t explain right now. Just... have to move? Just have to move. Get some things for the apartment. Adjust to new life. And never have to worry about stuff in the house again.

ALSO I GOT MYSELF A TREAT FOR PACZKI DAY.

Vanilla bean cream & taro paczki and a rose macaron and sprinkle cookie. So good. I want to eat a bowl of the vanilla bean cream. It was so vanilla bean-y. 

[sempersirens]

DAUGHTER LESSONS | a joel miller oneshot

masterlist

summary: would it kill joel to just touch you?

warnings: established relationship, infidelity, jackson-era, no mention of age, angst

author's note: so... i have been disgustingly obsessed with COWBOY CARTER (duh! i have taste) and have fixated on the duality of daddy lessons and DAUGHTER, which thereby produced this lovechild of the two. you guys know i love me some religious imagery and angst...

Nothing could’ve confined you to a pew in your youth.

Your knees had breathed a sigh of relief at the absence of a blood-red kneeler when you were granted Sunday morning autonomy. Only your grandmother’s morbid prophecies of watching mass from above this time next year herded you between the rows of wooden benches at Easter and Christmas.

Maybe it was her you were trying to reach; chin tipped to the ceiling as if you would be overcome with the smell of potpourri and Irish coffee, heart flooded with all the right answers.

Still, nothing good came. 

“Didn’t expect t’find you in here.” His familiar drawl pricks at the hairs on your neck. 

“I was trying out solitude.” 

Joel had always moved with surprising stealth for someone of his build, but nothing he did these days surprised you anymore.

You had given him everything since meeting shortly after his and Ellie’s arrival in Jackson. It hadn’t taken long for you to witness his undoing. 

But this time, Joel doesn’t move. 

Rather, he stands in the middle of the aisle taking in the sight of you on your knees four rows ahead and to his left. Your hands are clasped so tightly together he can see the whites of your knuckles from this far back. 

Joel knows the back of your head more intimately than he probably should.

You have a habit of turning away from him in bed at night the second you were overcome by the smallest amount of fatigue.

Too damn hot you would mumble from your tenure of the mattress. And he can’t say he minded too much.

Often, he would reach a hand to your hair spilling across the pillow onto his side before regaining sense and propping the hand underneath his head instead.

During your waking hours, languidly reciting the steps of your morning routine around his small kitchen, he feels the want to touch you.

He wants to smooth down the hair that always bobbled around the raised birthmark on your scalp. He wants to feel your cheek against the knuckle of his right index finger. He wants to take the coffee cup from your hands and engulf them in the warmth of his instead. 

“She’s not here.” You mumble, so quietly that he’s not sure if that’s what you’ve actually said.

“Who?” He braves, wiping his sweating palms on the sleeves of his flannel shirt.

You respond with a scoff, confirming his hypothesis. 

Of course she isn’t here. You both know very well that she isn’t here. 

When Tommy had first introduced the two of you, he’d cornered Joel at the bar while ordering their third, or maybe fourth, round of drinks.

“She’s a good woman, Joel.” 

“I’m figuring that out just fine.” He’d smirked, taking a preliminary sip of his beer before glancing back at you. Your elbows were perched on the wooden table, chin resting on your palms as you exchanged low-looks and snickers with Maria sat across from you. 

“No, you don’t get it. She’s good. She’s kind. Her daddy’s the pastor here.”

“Not settin’ me up with a Bible basher are you, little brother? She gon’ make me wait until I give her a ring?” 

He’d felt like an ass as soon as he’d opened his mouth, which was made worse by Tommy’s unchanging expression. He didn’t look irate or tired of Joel’s age-old shit – the face behind his warning was unwaveringly sincere.

“Just don’t hurt her.” 

And in that moment, Joel couldn’t fathom anything as desacrating as hurting you. He had returned Tommy’s solemnity with a nod and carried your drinks back to your table; the remainder of the night blurring into the rest of his life.

He hadn’t fallen in love with you that night. Joel is stubborn in love, and it took months of langorous warmth to thaw his roughness. 

You didn’t make him wait for a ring.

Nights spent in symphony with one another were the only moments Joel could bring himself to touch you. There, he knew how to work his hands, his tongue, his hips. Not once would he hesitate in reaching out to smooth a thumb across your forehead. He moved like a river, flowing into your body in desperation to meet the ocean. 

And you wondered if he did it on purpose, or if he knew that he was doing it at all. Passing him in the intimacy of his home or the vastness of the food hall, you were only ever hungry for his skin against yours. 

Slowly, you crept into his skin through his pores. You made his days sweeter and smoother wherever and however you could, hoping perhaps one evening his fingers would brush yours as you set a plate on the table before him.

But here you rise, swallowed in the rosy light of dawn with damp cheeks and all faith robbed from your chest.

“I can’t do this here, Joel.” You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and attempt to put as much distance between the two of you as you pass him in the aisle.

“Then don’t. Come home.”

For a second he debates reaching out to you, wrapping you in his arms and letting you beat against his chest as your body racks with sobs. But the moment soon escapes him and he’s following you into the morning air.

“I buried my home a week ago.” You spoke flatly, bones void of any remnants of anger or fight. “You know what my daddy told me before he died?” 

He thinks he does. Moreso, he can hazard a guess. 

Nevertheless, he can’t quite seem to find his voice as you bring yourself to a halt. The morning sun peeks between the buildings behind you.

“Told me one day you’d play me for a fool. And look at me now.” You shook with breathy laughter. “He’s in the ground and there’s another woman keeping the man I love’s bed warm.”

Jackson would soon be rising with the sun. It had almost been a full day since you’d come home from patrol an hour earlier than Joel expected.

In truth, it hadn’t been the clothes strewn over kitchen chairs and draped over the bannisters. Not even the warm smell of salt and latex that hit you before you’d opened the bedroom door.

Joel’s fingers grazed the small of her back, tracing lazy shapes up and down her spine. Your stomach tightened into a small fist, losing all composure you had truly tried to maintain in your ascent up to the bedroom.

You had never even really been one to fight. Your father had taught you to handle yourself, and you’d learnt what was necessary to survive in the new world. 

Really, you wanted to pollute the skin beneath Joel’s touch. You wanted for him to never touch anything beautiful again; to never grasp at cold cotton sheets in the middle of the night; to never feel the slow threat of rain tapping against his skin.

Life began to creep in around the two of you. Ellie and Tommy would soon come looking for Joel to set off on morning patrol.

“One day, Joel, someone is going to give you exactly what you deserve. And I pray to God that I’m there to see it.”

You turn on your heel, leaving Joel to watch as your hair sways from side-to-side down your back. He swallows the lump formed in his throat and tilts his chin to the sky, blinking away the threat of tears moistening his lower lashes. 

He wipes his hands against his jeans and straightens his torso, forcing a low cough to clear his throat. 

Peaches, he thinks. Tonight he will bring you peaches, and he will watch as the juice spills from the side of your mouth. He will reach a thumb to wipe it away, and he will hold you. For as long as you let him; as long as he breathes.

[aesethewitch]

Learning to Cook Like a Witch: Using the Scraps

Cooking can create a lot of waste. From peels and rinds to bones and leaves, people throw away quite a lot of scraps in the kitchen. And witches, as you may know, are experts in the art of the cunning use of whatever we’ve got around.

As a witch who spends a lot of time in the kitchen, I’ve had ample opportunities to get creative in my cooking craft. It helps that I grew up in a household defined by scarcity: not our own, by the time I was conscious enough to remember, but my parents’ poverty. It colored the way I learned to cook, using everything I possibly could, making enough to last, preserving what I didn’t immediately use, and creatively reusing leftovers and scraps.

There are some topics I won’t necessarily cover here. Composting is an option, but there are some bits of food scrap that don’t need to be composted — they can be saved and repurposed for all sorts of things, magic and mundane. Likewise, recycling, buying sustainably, and growing your own food when you can are all great options for reducing household waste in the kitchen.

For the purposes of this post, I want to focus specifically on food scraps. This is an organized list of kitchen scraps that I’ve used in a variety of other dishes and projects. I’m focusing primarily on food waste, not so much on packaging (such as reusing egg cartons, milk containers, boxes, and so forth).

Vegetable Scraps

Freeze leftover vegetable scraps to make stock. This is a fairly common bit of advice — save bits of leftover vegetables to make a vegetable stock or another kind of stock. It’s good advice! I keep a bag in my freezer that I put vegetable scraps in to save until I’m ready to make a new batch of stock. Not all veggies should be saved like this and used for stock! Some make stock bitter or otherwise unpleasant-tasting. Personally, I tend to freeze these for stock:

- The skins, ends, and leftover cuts of onions (just be wary of the skins; too much will make your broth bitter) - The ends of celery (not the leaves — they’re bitter!) - Corn cobs - Garlic skins, ends, tiny cloves that aren’t useful otherwise, and sprouted cloves - The ends of carrots (also not the leaves) - The ends of leeks - Pepper tops/bottoms (not the seeds)

I would recommend against putting things like potatoes, brussels sprouts, cabbage, and leafy greens in there. Potatoes don’t add flavor, sprouts and cabbage make the whole thing taste like those foods, and leafy greens end up bitter. If something has a strong, distinctive flavor (beets, sprouts), I wouldn’t add it to my freezer bag. These scraps often form the veggie portion of my Sick-Be-Gone Chicken Broth spell recipe!

Regrow leeks, green onions, and celery. Pop these in a bit of water and watch them grow back! It’s a fun experiment, and you’ll never have to buy them again.

Plant sprouted garlic. Aside from the fact that you can still cook and eat garlic that’s sprouted, you can plant a sprouted clove in a pot. Care for it well enough, and you’ll end up with a full head of garlic from that one clove!

Fry potato peels. Anytime I make mashed potatoes or peel potatoes for something, I always save the peels. Give them a thorough rinse and shallow-fry them in oil, turning them over until they’re golden and crispy. Toss them in a bit of salt and pepper while they’re still hot, and you’ve got tasty chips to snack on while you cook the rest of your meal! No need to cover them in more oil or anything — the heat will cause the salt to stick right to them.

Save leaves for pesto. Yum, yum, yum. Pesto isn’t just all about basil, you know. Save the leaves from carrots, beets, radishes, and even celery to grind up alongside basil, garlic, salt, and lemon juice for a delicious pesto recipe.

Fruit Scraps

Save citrus peels. Peels from oranges, lemons, grapefruits, and other citrus fruits have a multitude of uses. Candy them for a sweet treat, dry them to add to potpourri or incense, or save them to put into a simmer pot for bright, sunny energy.

Juice the whole fruit. Again, thinking mostly about citrus fruits, when you need the zest from something but not the rest, don’t just throw away the fruit. Squeeze out all the juice you can. Even if you don’t need it right now, you can freeze it to use later in simmer pots, fruity waters, or anything else that needs a touch of juice.

Turn extra fruit and berries into jam or syrup. If you’ve got berries and fruit that are about to go off, or maybe the ends of strawberries, don’t toss them! Look up recipes for jam of the specific fruit you’ve got or make an infused syrup. Syrups in particular can be used for cocktails, teas, and desserts for an extra magical kick.

Pickle watermelon rinds. That’s right. Pickle those suckers. They’re so tasty. I’ve seen people make kimchi with watermelon rinds, too, though I’ve never tried it myself!

Save seeds for abundance work. Seeds in general are great for spells geared toward long-term success, new beginnings, and — when there are a lot of them — wealth. Different fruit seeds have properties that tend to correspond with the fruit they come from, so consider their potential purposes before you just toss them! (Note also that some fruit seeds are toxic; these would be suitable for baneful workings.)

Keep cherry stems for love magic. Have you ever done that thing where you tie a cherry stem with your tongue? If I’m eating cherries, I like to save some of the stems for love workings. Tie them into little knots like you might with string while envisioning ensnaring the love you’re looking for. I wouldn’t do this with a particular person in mind; binding someone to you is almost never a good idea. I’ve used it to attract specific qualities in a person of romantic interest: attentiveness, humor, kindness, and so forth.

Use pits to represent blockages, barriers, and problems. I most often use them in baneful workings, typically jammed into a poppet’s mouth or throat to keep someone from talking shit. It could also represent a sense of dread in that way — a pit in the stomach, uneasy and nauseating. But you could also use them in the sense of removal, ritualistically removing the pit or problem from a given situation.

Herb Scraps

Freeze or dry extra fresh herbs. Different drying techniques are ideal for specific herbs. I’d suggest looking up recommended methods before sticking anything in the microwave. If you’d like to freeze your herbs instead, I typically will lay them on a damp paper towel, wrap them up, place them into a freezer-safe bag, and then put them in the freezer. Most herbs will keep for a couple months this way. When you want to use them, pull them out and let them defrost right on the counter.

Make pesto. Again, pesto isn’t just basil! Experiment with tossing in different scraps of herbs to find out what combination you like best.

Reuse steeped tea. Particularly when I use loose herbal tea, I like to lay out the used tea to dry out. It can be burned similarly to loose incense, though the scent may be somewhat weaker than with herbs that are fresher or unused. I find that it’s fine, since I’m sensitive to smells anyways.

Toss extra herbs into your stock freezer bag. Just like with vegetables, extra herbs make welcome additions to a scrap stock pot. I always make a point to save sage, thyme, marjoram, and ginger. You can add just about anything to a stock pot, but be aware of the flavors you’re adding. Not all herbs will match with all dishes.

Protein Scraps

Dry and crush empty egg shells. This is one most witches will know! I use crushed egg shells for protection magic most often: sprinkled at a doorstep mixed with other herbs, added to jars, and spread around spell candles.

Save shrimp, crab, and lobster shells. They’re a goldmine of flavor. Toss them into water with veggies and herbs, and you’ve got a delicious, easy shellfish stock. Use it to make fishy soups and chowders that much richer.

Don’t discard roasted chicken remains. Use them for stock, just like the shells. I like to get rotisserie chickens on occasion since they’re ready-made and very tasty. Once all the meat has been stripped off the bones, simmer the entire carcass with — you guessed it — veggies and herbs for a tasty chicken stock.

Reuse bacon grease for frying. After cooking bacon, don’t throw away the grease right away. Melt it over low heat, strain the bits of bacon out, and pour it into a jar to put in the fridge. You can use it to fry all sorts of things, but my favorite thing is brussels sprouts. They pick up the delicious, salty, bacony flavor from all that rendered bacon fat. So good.

Other Scraps

Use stale bread for croutons or bread crumbs. When I reach the stale end of a loaf of bread, as long as it isn’t moldy, I like to tear it into pieces and toss it into the oven for a little while. Let it cool and then pulse it in a food processor, and I’ve got delicious bread crumbs! Or, cut it a little more neatly, toss it in oil and seasonings, and then bake, and now I’ve got homemade croutons for salads. You can really hone your herbs for both of these, tuning them to be perfect for whatever spell needs you have.

Small amounts of leftover sugar. I don’t know why, but I always end up with a tiny amount of white and brown sugar in the containers. This can be used in teas, of course, but I like to offer it up to spirits. In particular, my ancestors tend to appreciate a spoonful of brown sugar stirred into a small, warmed cup of milk. You can also look up mug cake or single-serving cookie recipes; often, they’re cooked in the microwave, and they only need a little sugar to make!

Keep vanilla bean pods. Vanilla is fucking expensive. When I have a little extra and want to really splurge for a special occasion, I’ll get a couple pods. And because they’re so expensive, I hate wasting any part of them. They’re good for love magic, sure, but you can also toss the spent pods in a jar full of sugar to make vanilla-infused sugar. I’ll often use the pods to make infused milks, too; warm the milk over low heat, add the pods, and let it steep like tea. It goes great in teas and desserts. For a nice self-love spell, sometimes I’ll melt chocolate into the vanilla milk and make hot cocoa!

Save the rinds from Parmesan and Pecorino Romano cheese. You might not be able to just bite into these, but they’re fabulous additions to a stock pot. They add a rich, umami depth to the flavors. I also like to throw these into pots of tomato sauce to add even more flavor to the sauce.

Used coffee is still coffee. After I make a pot of coffee, I’ll sometimes save the grounds by letting them dry back out. I wouldn’t make another cup of coffee with them, since all the flavor’s gone, but they’ll still have attributes of energy generation and smell great. I like to pack used grounds into sachets to hang in places where I want to encourage more energy and focus, replaced every few days or so. Coffee grounds also have high amounts of nitrogen in them, which can help plants thrive; just be careful about pH values in the soil! You don’t want to hurt your plants with too much acidity.

Final Thoughts

I hope you found these tips helpful! There are a ton more ways to save and reuse kitchen scraps that would otherwise go to waste. Sometimes, tossing stuff into the compost or trash can’t be avoided. But I’ve found that being aware of the possibilities can help diminish the amount that gets wasted.

If you have questions or other suggestions for reusing kitchen scraps, feel free to drop them in my inbox, reblogs, or replies. And if you did enjoy this post, consider tossing a couple dollars in my tip jar! Supporters get early and sometimes exclusive access to my work, and monthly members get bonuses like commission discounts and extras. (:

[threepandas]

Bad End, Hidden Heir: Part 2

Prev <-

A pounding headache and cave air, that's what I woke up too. The air was being choked, though, by familiar scents. All trying desperately to make the cold, wet, and softly echoing quiet, hospitable. It was nauseating in my current state. Weak and... drugged? Had I been drugged? I certainly hadn't been drunk.

So why did my head hurt so much?

Why did every motion, make my stomach want to rebel?

My limbs felt so WEAK. Heavy and useless. Barely budging when I try to lift them. To rub my head? Adjust the blanket? Sit up? I can't tell. Thinking... thinking is so hard past... the pounding in my head. The fog. I struggle to concentrate. God, that SMELL.

Like a perfume store combined with... with... ugh. Everything!

I could pick out individual scents I knew I liked, on their own, added to the nauseating chaos. My favorite potpourri was there. But so was the one I like for winter? Fall? That one I liked as a kid until I found Mrs. Tianna's blend...

And perfumes! Colognes! The clean products and scents I preferred the maids used. God it... it blended together like a trash heap. As though someone drove a carriage through a perfume shop at speed. Cloying and musk and spice and fruity and-!

I sucked air through my teeth, trying not to smell it, hoping to god I wouldn't TASTE it.

Finally I managed to pry my eyes open. Either hunger or thirst giving my the strength to push past the nauseating pain. I NEEDED to move. Find out what was happening. Survive.

My gaze... met the most elaborate embroidery I had ever seen. Tapestries had less art. Almost to the point of gaudiness. Possibly past it. It was...

It was everything I had ever said I liked.

Too anyone.

Puppies and flowers, history and art, books scenes and more. It kept GOING! Hideous and magnificent. Chaos. Unhinged. Flowing down from above me, along the rest of the curtains, for the canopy bed upon which I rest. So I would be surrounded by it all. Even the blanket... it was a sea of my favorite flowers, made eternal through string.

This wasn't something people just DID. Could just FIND. I could feel my panic under the muting pain and exhaustion. This was the work of YEARS. Obsessive, continuous, YEARS. Some of these threads cost more then certain house hold make in WEEKS! And for what? A secret canopy bed?!

I struggled, body barely able to obey me but trying desperately to assist. The blankets were heavy. The curtain around the bed equally so, thanks to all the embroidery. I.. I manage to roll. Squirm. Wriggle my way, undignified, to the edge. Flop over it and out from under the blanket. Too freedom.

The air is cold.

The scents WORSE out here. Now, I can see why.

It is a museum to all that I am. Every like carefully gathered in one place, every preference. Stacked and shoved together, with no regard for if they fit. Hoarded like a collection.

I can not even tell... if I am sitting, flopped down, on my favorite winter bedside carpet or just an exact copy. My entire life is shoved together and suddenly... suddenly I do not like any of these things at all. They feel dirty. Dangerous. Like they have betrayed me. I want to cry.

But I am nauseous. Hurting. Tired and thirsty. So very hungry dispite it all. I just... I just need to know what's going ON! This isn't... this isn't how the Game goes! Not for Protag-chan. Not for me! I know I changed my "character's" behavior... but...

I... I don't understand...

Try not to cry. It's... it's really hard.

I was right. I'm pretty sure this is the Caves of Spring in the northwest of the Duchy. The offical Heir has an estate near them. The stone looks like the cliffs I'd seen in passing.

Crawling is hard. My legs keep getting tangled in my fucking nightgown. My... my f.. favorite.. nightgown! I'm not gonna cry. Damn it. I'm NOT GONNA CRY. How dare he? How DARE he ruin even that? What did he DO to me!? When I was... was...

No, don't think about it!

Move.

A decanter. Needlessly pretty. I probably loved it as a girl, fresh into this world. Everything was so FANCY and I wasn't used to having money yet. Hadn't developed any real class or taste. It looks so fucking gaudy to me now. But God, it has water. Please... PLEASE let that be water!

I drag myself up on badly shaking limbs. Nothing wants to hold. Wrists buckling, knees giving, legs shaking like a new born lamb. My arms are so weak. But thirst... oh thirst is a powerful motivator.

I force myself to move.

The water is not enough. It is everything. Cold and perfect, I force myself to go slow. To not spill a single drop, as I collapse against the dresser it was placed upon. Letting my eyes explore my cage in the way my poor abused body can not.

There are thick bars buried deep into the bedrock, separating the "room" I'm in from the hall that leads away from it. And it IS a "room". Made in cruel mockery to resemble the luxury of the dukes estate. Perhaps even more aggressively decadent in certain aspects, though that isn't a good thing. It makes it border on a storage room, for how crowded with luxury it has become.

It is the reflection of an unwell mind.

And staring up at the portraits of myself I KNOW I never sat for? The countless sketches pinned up beyond the bars? I am in trouble. I... I should have run. Not sent Creep away. I should have been the one to run. Before it was too late.

I think... I think it might be too late.

Footsteps.

I want to escape. But where can I run? I am caged. I feel close and far away. My head hurts. My body hurts. Everything stinks and I am cold. Why? Why did you do this? The foot steps are calm and commanding. Even. They do not break stride.

I do not bother to watch my hunter approach me. The monster I can not escape.

I close my eyes to spare myself the pounding in my head. Drink more water.

He makes a softly dismayed sound, as though he was not the one to drug me, to leave me here. The door to my cage opens. Closes. Ah... such a heavy lock. Should I be flattered?

Crisp steps, the rustle of fabric.

"My lady, the floor is so dirty! You shouldn't be out of bed yet. I was just about to make you tea."

The AUDACITY.

Tea? TEA! Ha ha! After DRUGGING my tea? He actually expects me to accept a cup from him again?! He truely IS insane, isn't he?

I am scooped up without my consent, unable to so much a truely struggle. Placed gently on a plush chair, a tea table moved in front of me. A familiar cup. My favorite blend. Pretty little snacks laid out deftly on lovely little plates. I grit my teeth. Slowly tip my head up to glare.

He pauses when our eye meet... then shudders, some terrible look of pleasure dancing across his face.

"That's right... look at me~" he whispers, leaning entirely too close. "I'm all that you have now. So you'll HAVE too now! No more others. No more distractions. No more sending me away! People trying to get between us. Trying to take you away. I'm all that you need, My Lady. All you'll EVER need."

"Just look at ME, your loyal dog. And I'll take such good care of you. I promise~♡"

[vitaminseetarot]

PAC: How Can Nature Heal You? 🍃💎🐾

Hi everyone, I'm officially back from my long and crazy trip to the outdoors! If there's one thing I've learned from the trip, it's that yellowjacket stings are 10x itchier than mosquito bites!

And learned how to stay grounded.

Since the start of October, things have felt like a whirlwind, but knowing that I (eventually) get to come back and post some more feels strangely grounding. Right now, especially as winter approaches, it's important to find ways of keeping ourselves grounded. I don't know the exact astrology, or if it's just from eclipse season, but things feel topsy-turvy at this point in time.

So to make up for some lost time, I have decided to prepare three different PACs for you as we approach the full eclipse moon and end of the month. Here is my first of the three. I'll have something very different prepared for next week as well… perhaps a game or two? Stay tuned!

☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦☼♦

Try to find some moments out in nature, Autumn is calling. Take some time to head outside, even for just a few minutes, and find a natural focal point. When I went into the city to work, I'd find a rare bird who'd perch by a parking lot light just to say hello. Even rain puddles in asphalt may have something to say. Feel which way the wind is blowing. It's much easier to ground with natural focal points, and with camping they're everywhere, but surprises await you anywhere you are.

Nature can heal us all in different ways. While camping by the pond, I decided to create three piles to see how nature is able to help you when times get stressful. I consulted the sea, earth, and sky for these cards to find out new ways for you to refresh and recharge while outside. Please choose any one of the three pictures below for your reading: Origins, Reconnect, or Friends.

Pile 1:

Origins: Remember Your Roots; 46. Facing Your Fears, Service, Page of Swords, Tower, Nine of Cups

Nature heals you with its pleasing aromas. In the autumn breeze, the smell of fallen leaves can lift you away from the chaos surrounding you. Smell the crackling bonfire and listen to its ancient stories that have been carried through time. Let the old stories sustain you when the world feels like it's shaking.

The scents of nature have an immediate effect on you. Smell the hot cider from fresh tart apples, or the memories from the scarf your relative or ancestor left behind. Smell the dark October rain and the many chilly nights preceding the storm. Where does it take you? Do you let your lungs fill with the world's organic potpourri? Do you allow yourself the space to roam through the woods to find what you've never experienced before? Or give yourself the chance to reset your body through mindful breath as your worrisome thoughts are replaced with cool, misty serenity?

Take some time to name each thing you smell, perhaps in your journal. The more we are able to name what we smell or taste, the more we can establish a relationship with it, whether through hate or through love, brine or breeze. Welcome more fresh air into your life at this time. Breathe deeply in the smells of the changing seasons and infuse your affirmations with them, knowing that your intention will be carried away with the turbulent winds.

The lionfish is dangerous to many ecosystems through its invasiveness. Yet people have learned how to prepare lionfish as a meal. So now there are holidays dedicated to hunting these fish to reduce their effect on coral reefs. It says to you: "Look for ways to strengthen your connection to the Universe and others. Stay peaceful and calm in the knowing of who you are."

A necessity brought a community together for an important goal. You too have a place where your actions and desires are aligned with the universe; don't discount your capabilities just because things look too tough to tackle. When situations in your life seem out of control and overwhelming, take a step outside and connect to the smells of the woods, or an essential oil blend to safely diffuse in your room. I'm picking up on clove and cinnamon in particular but whatever blend works right for you.

Pile 2:

Reconnect: Secrets lurk in the captive shadows deep in the woods; 24. Love Where You Are, Bliss, Seven of Pentacles, Five of Swords, Six of Swords

Nature heals you with its deep underground connections. It lies dormant within layer upon layer of mineral, silicate, and pulsing soil. You can dig and dig for days because you've seen the glittering amethyst geode hiding beneath the surface of volcanic debris. You're adorned with the roots of a single glowing mushroom that splits in a thousand directions at the strike of lightning.

It seems as though there is no end to the digging, even when a dead end scrapes against your shovel. It may also feel like each direction you take on is limitless, stretching the roots as far as they can go. The desire to know and resolve tugs and pulls like a sprout emerging from seed. You're here to learn the mysteries of life, carve the revelation upon stone, and somehow hold them firmly in your hands. A pumpkin may not hold all the answers to our lives, it can make for a enjoyable pie with ice cream. And sometimes simple and pleasant things like that are all that's necessary in the time you have.

The earth calls you when you are in a fuss, when you can't see eye to eye with another. When things get tense, go for a walk. Imagine your roots traveling beneath the earth as a fish rides the deep currents. Remember there is always more going on outside the troubles of the everyday. All it may take is a morning in the garden, sifting through the dirt, and planting delicate seeds to clear your mind enough to make the next moves in your day.

Clams love the earth as well. They find a comfortable place on the ocean floor, slowly filtering sand and grit into incredible works of beauty. Each pearl forged is the result of a lifetime's worth of sustained effort. It says: "Use your sensitivity to know when to act. Connect your heart with your head when determining what you would like."

Sometimes, we can solve our problems by nagging over the details, but in other times, we must sit it out and let things unfold as they intend to. Sometimes it's best to settle matters rationally, but in other times emotional wisdom is required. Stay in touch with your roots in the present and move one muddy step after the other. Whatever the issue unfolding, let the earth heal you in the now.

Pile 3:

Friends: The most unlikely friendships can form; 16. Inner Desires, Family, Fool, Five of Wands, Tower

Nature heals you with its menagerie of connections with the feral world. A day where you learn about a new species is a jackpot; you bask in abundance through admiring the vast animal kingdom. There is magic to be found in the growth and decay of a beast. Joy emerges from its shells, which grows into a love that spreads its wings and flies west into eternal peace and infinite renewal.

In each paw print, you can see evolutionary fragments of your own. Hearing the birds call in liquid notes, you venture into the thicket in hopes of encountering a part of yourself once forgotten. Is it easier to relate to animal kind than it is to people? Even when their display is for tricks or camouflage, they will not misjudge or criticize against you for who you are. At the same time, each animal desires its own space in the wild in which it can't be disturbed. It can be difficult to leave behind a difficult situation at home to find anyone who will relate with you deep within the shadowy woods. But you are being called by the chipmunks and squirrels to carry your acorns to the next level, beyond the stress, and give yourself the chance to plant them in a more nurturing, caring land to thrive.

You are being asked to, as the birds and cattle do, migrate into a whole new feeding ground. You may be a fish that has grown too big for the pond and now must plunge into the waterfall, a snake ready to shed coiled skin, or a butterfly emerging from its cocoon into new heights. Are you in a transitional phase, like a job or school change, perhaps even a move? Wherever you end up in next, the resources and guidance you need will await you at the bottom of the pool. The place your heart seeks to go the most is where you'll find your unique calling for your next adventure.

This mollusc seems humble up front but carries a powerful and influential role; they are the creators of the cowrie shell. It has been seen to represent abundance, love, and connection to the ocean's splendors through the shells they leave behind. Many people around the world have used these shells as currency. It says: "Set your intentions. You are entering a phase of plenty or have a sudden windfall. Goals are within your grasp."

Transitions can always feel unsteady, but you have many helpful animal guides by your side. Even your pet can sense that change is in the air and wants to be there for you during moments of doubt and strife. And look out for the occasional ladybug, hare, or black cat as you map out your goals to prosperity and healthy social networks. The animal world trusts you to make the right decisions with its welfare in mind.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2023, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[dansconcepts]

Talentswap AU - Nanamiki HCs

I'm posting these in case I don't finish the drabble I wrote for them in time for when I usually post things.

Ultimate Baker Chiaki:

Chiaki spaces out a bunch

She takes naps while waiting for something to bake and wakes up bc of her timer’s alarm

Chiaki’s ace but not aro (yet also she’s figuring out how not aro she is bc her and romance never really aligned much until Mikan)

Her favourite things to bake are custard buns

Her favourite flowers are sunflowers

When baking, Chiaki hyper-focuses on getting the right measurements, the right airiness, the right amount of mixing, etc. etc. and everything else sort of gets tuned out

Chiaki’s palate is sensitive, so you won’t find her eating spicy things much. She’s not afraid to work with spice though (although taste testing is gonna hurt…)

Sleep schedule? What’s that? Chiaki bakes all day and her sleep is during the times the oven is on and its door is shut (do NOT try this at home, that is 100% NOT safe)

Chiaki loves baking because she enjoys the trial and error process, and not necessarily because she wants to feed others (but she does have to do something about her creations, and she likes seeing other people happy with something she made)

On that note, she’s not someone who usually takes requests (and why she won’t open a bakery) because she prefers baking what she wants, yet she will for the people she’s closest to

Ultimate Florist Mikan:

She has deffo cut herself on thorns (she does wear gloves! sometimes…)

Flower love language? ABSOLUTELY! She lives and breathes it and loves requests related to it

Mikan’s bi (bi gang rise up)

Her favourite flowers are hyacinths (in all their many colours, but white particularly)

Her favourite thing that Chiaki bakes are soft, plain dinner rolls. She loves being able to quickly nyom without too much hassle

Mikan makes potpourri and sells that too 

Mikan 100% knows flower anatomy and will speak about it in extensive detail (and make jokes about it)

Lowkeys always has her gardening apron on and she got it fitted along with her gloves

She grows her own flowers and also sells them (it’s flowers in particular because they were her only comfort sometimes)

Them HCs:

Mikan gives her flowers or potpourri dishes sometimes dedicated to her love and adoration for Chiaki and Chiaki decorates her dorm with them 

Mikan gazes at Chiaki while she naps 

Mikan isn’t that big of a sweets fan, but she does love Chiaki’s food so Chiaki gifts her with treats and bread every so often 

Physical affection? Chiaki dotes HARD. Cuddling is free real estate. Mikan’s equally as touchy, but usually doesn’t initiate in fear of causing discomfort (but usually Chiaki’s okay with it and she voices as much)

Their height diff is so cute, Mikan leans down to place forehead kisses on Chiaki (which she’s cool with btw!)

Mikan is basically Chiaki’s pillow and she is NOT complaining

Chiaki is SO patient she’s willing to hear Mikan out or be there for her or give her space when she needs it

Mikan worries she’s doing a bad job doing that for Chiaki, but she’s not, Mikan always communicates and asks Chiaki about her comfort 

Chiaki makes the conscious effort to be more forthcoming and tries not to say wishy-washy uncertain statements when it comes to Mikan (saying “You’re adorable” instead of “You can be pretty adorable.”) 

She sometimes says wishy-washy statements because she’s embarrassed at being forthcoming but she gets more comfortable longer into their relationship

Chiaki and Mikan watch horror movies and Chiaki expects Mikan to cling to her during it but is surprised to find Mikan completely fine 

Also they DO have movie nights and they are 100% a ploy to drag Chiaki away from baking for a while 

Mikan rants (and yes! Mikan being around someone she trusts means passionate ranting) around Chiaki about some bouquets she made that day or even about bad customers and Chiaki blissfully listens as she’s preparing dough

The flower shop Mikan runs also sells some treats that Chiaki made

Although Chiaki’s very used to it, Mikan is DEFINITELY worried about Chiaki’s room burning down and switches between eyeing the oven for a bit before going back to looking at a napping Chiaki and making her more comfortable

While Chiaki bakes, she ain’t cooking, and Mikan deffo isn’t (she did try and she’s actually pretty good at simple dishes, but she doesn’t like cooking), so they’re the type to order something when they want other types of food

Chiaki definitely makes flower puns/jokes and Mikan will be amused on principle (being used to it with a small smile) but if anyone else does it, she will be very intolerant (“W-what? What are you saying? You shouldn’t sully flowers like that…”)

[meltypancake]

hellooo !!

i’m curious how eliane gets along with the rest of the blue lions ? or just any other significant relationships she has with any students at the monastery haha :0

hallo!!! thank you for the ask, it activated so many braincells c:

i'll cover her relationship with the blue lions in the early academy days for now ♪(´▽｀) ranked by friendship level, here we go!!

people she's close to ↓

annette 😊💖💖 precious pal

A+ study buddy and the true reason why eliane hasn't missed the majority of morning classes

she has caught herself removing the pebbles off a road, thinking annette would and could trip on them (´。＿。｀)

there are too many pebbles in this world. she'll just have to settle with catching her friend every time she stumbles

ashe 🥹😊💖 fun to tease

eliane felt an instant kinship with ashe! fellow commoners with a shared interest in herbology make for a great team (^^ゞ

much to his chagrin, she's also way into the spookies. tales of ghosts haunting the monastery really get her going and he would like none of that, thank you very much

she makes him a potpourri pouch filled with ghost-repelling herbs. he ties it to his evil-repelling amulet.

mercedes😊💖💖 provider of snacks and comfort

being around mercedes makes her feel so cared for, she's the older sister she's always dreamed of (´▽｀)

they are both waaay too easy-going for their own good though... empires will rise and fall while they munch on homemade sweets

on friendly terms ↓

ingrid 😋🥔 bonding bites

these two have the most riveting discussions about which tavern offers the juiciest cut of meat. they find time to record a whole tier list of dining hall dishes in a shared journal

ingrid is her best, most faithful taste tester! food truly is the cornerstone of society

dedue 😯🙂 a greenhouse regular she's curious about

she always assumed he was some kind of plant magician. apparently magic isn't his forte, so what the heck is up with that green thumb?

he makes sure to teach her the basics of gardening (before she can ruin the flower bed). the first time her seeds actually end up sprouting, she runs all over the monastery looking to show him

(adding him in the list for completion's sake) dimitri 🙂 nice, but a little uptight

rather distant ↓

felix 🙂 amicable (entirely one-sided)

he's so blunt unlike the whole lot of flowery nobles, there's no second-guessing the meaning of his words which eliane likes. she's pretty fond of him! he finds her rather annoying though (oﾟvﾟ)ノ

eliane will seek out felix for a spar, get obliterated until he's fed up entertaining small fry and he shuffles off as she lays defeated (though not disheartened). rinse and repeat

any verbal abuse goes in through one ear and out the other with her. what a gremlin

sylvain 😐🤨😑 ?????

eliane has incredibly mixed feelings about sylvain which get progressively worse the more she gets to know him

he ping pongs between being genuinely helpful and sensible while also making girls cry on a daily basis... and it would make her life a lot easier if he could just choose one and stick with it !!!

any attempts to flirt with her get shut down. on a different note, she's a little miffed he never trains or studies yet still gets better grades than her

at the end of the academy phase she's become more or less close to everyone in the blue lions, except maybe felix. he's not the type to be all buddy-buddy anyway (‾◡◝)

thank you for reaching the end!!! c:

[septembersghost]

chronic illness flare has turned me into a soaking wet paper doll of a person, but i have tag games to catch up on and that's a fun distraction 😊💕

tagged by jenn my sweetie @castiel

show your lock screen, last celeb photo, and last song listened to

oh this is probably going to be embarrassing. okay so my most frequently used device unfortunately doesn't have a customizable lock screen. i am very lucky to have a secondary device i use quite often these days which was a gift from a friend who didn't need it anymore, and that one had a really pretty floral/lyric from the archer for ages, but now... (if i hadn't saved this picture of taylor and benji, the lock screen and photo would've been a neat display of matched insanity, could've hit a trifecta with the song too but fob swooped in at the last second.) anyway...

♥♥♥♥

tagged by (polk! salad!) dani @valkaryah: share my top 5 songs I've been listening to.

according to my current replay playlist, and without repeating artists, otherwise this would be very skewed, it's 1. any day now - elvis presley, 2. heartbreak feels so good - fall out boy, 3. all of the girls you loved before - taylor swift, 4. look at us now (honeycomb) - daisy jones and the six, 5. all my ghosts - lizzy mcalpine (the way lizzy has not left my rotation for a year!)

♥♥♥♥

tagged by darlings @thebohemianbelle and @waxandwanewitchery: when you get this, you have to put 5 songs you actually listen to

similar to the above, but different!!! if i snagged this from that weekly replay playlist, it would essentially be all of the same artists because my listening habits have been in a cycle of comfort lately, but i'll choose five that i do listen to a lot that are also in the list and weren't represented. 1. golden - harry styles, 2. say you love me - fleetwood mac, 3. just one of those things - frank sinatra, 4. supercut - lorde, 5. easy to love - ella fitzgerald

♥♥♥♥

tagged by @bloodmoonlits 😘 my top 4 current albums (the taste on yours, i love seeing recognition for holly!) mine are going to be so predictable here please send help. (i am making an executive decision to exclude taylor from this, but red tv and lover are actually battling it out for a top spot at the moment 💖)

♥♥♥♥

tagged by @headfullofpresley and @castiel: talk about 8 shows as a way to get to know me better. this is unexpectedly hard because rarely are the shows i most dearly love ones that i would openly recommend to another human being haha 😳 so let that be a disclaimer here as i wrack my brain. in no particular order:

(1). better call saul: i will never be as deranged about anything on television as i was about this show, scheming times were had, tragedies were felt, cinnamon rolls were eaten. kisses sealed at city hall, flowers blooming in the desert. my unpopular qualms with the last few episodes/ending aside, it was such a gorgeously layered, meticulously crafted show, i loved those characters so much, it was SUCH a cinematic treat visually, and nearly every step was finely tuned and written in such a thought-provoking way. every step was perfectly acted. i could still talk about it forever. kim wexler queen of my heart, you will always be famous. you don't save me. i save me. (shout-out to the magnificent, and inarguably definitive, predecessor breaking bad.)

(2). penny dreadful: this show is a glorious horror, a mess of victoriana, a fanfiction potpourri of some of the most famous characters of literature, no sane person should invest themselves in it. unfortunately, i, not sane, love it to the bone (except for the terrible ending, you'll catch a pattern here), predominantly because vanessa ives means everything to me. the flame to which all moths gather. defiant martyr of my heart. no one will ever be like her!!! she is my fierce compassionate sickgirl heroine, fighting against the shadows of her world, her soul forever unbowed and true. even when she fears that lost, she holds close her dignity, her ability to love, her perseverance. the poetry with which the show, particularly the first two seasons, was written is unmatched. it's gothic horror in a frame that no one else on television has ever attempted, and it felt made for me when i first watched it in january of 2020. for though it is macabre and gruesome and dark and steeped in grief, it's also about beauty and devotion and resilience and connection. "i see no wildflowers here."/"then you need to look closer." and the everlasting heartbeat, no matter what john logan did to her, my vanessa. something yet remains. i remain.

(3). bates motel: fun fact, i only started bates last february, i've watched S1-4 more than once, and yet still have not finished S5. i keep trying but i don't want to do it! it's a rare one where i already know the ending is fitting, i just keep pushing it off. it's a very difficult show, it deals with heavy themes, there's triggering and horrific stuff in the pilot alone that would immediately stop me from telling people to watch (or at least give me pause), yet at the same time i think it unexpectedly becomes one of the most brilliantly done pieces of television i've ever seen. they have this audacious idea - what if we made a prequel of one of the most iconic movies of all-time? - and somehow not only pull it off, but end up making that story richer and more meaningful. we KNOW we're plummeting towards inevitable tragedy and still wish it could be diverted. we are fascinated and repulsed and aching for the bonds these people share, the desperation as they try to survive. every character is flawed in ways that the story tries to claw humanity out of, and it does something distinct in never shaming or vilifying any of the protagonists for the wretched things they do, never talking down to the audience saying we should be judging them or wishing ill on them, but rather examining WHY they are this way, why they act and react as they do, how they have been bent into these strange shapes. it exhumes your empathy and refuses to let you turn away from the difficulties of their world. the house looms forever like a breathing entity in the background. we will always end up in the basement, but how it comes to happen is the more important tale. and it has the incomparable powerhouse of norma bates, wonderful, awful, extraordinary, complicated, half queen, half little girl. she was like a miracle. as with vanessa, i will never forget her. (another pattern you'll see here: WOMEN.)

(4). remington steele: this was the very first "grown up" show i was ever allowed to watch with my mom, in syndication when i was a kid, and i just love it so much. it's such a delight. 80s glamour! mysteries and hi-jinks! THEE ultimate will-they/won't they romance, and she doesn't even know his real name! try this for a deep dark secret - the great detective remington steele? he doesn't exist. i invented him. follow - i always loved excitement, so i studied, and apprenticed, and put my name on an office, but absolutely nobody knocked down my door... i can recite the whole first season intro monologue, burned into my brain from age twelve. we just finished a rewatch a few weeks ago and i miss them already. laura holt is intelligent, beautiful, romantic, indefatigable, the closest thing the small screen has had to a classic noir inspired brassy leading lady, and was FORMATIVE for me.

(5). crazy-ex girlfriend: they put a musical on television for me. immediate hit right there. many of the numbers are parodies/homage, cheeky and clever but still heartfelt. then it became one of the funniest, most poignant, most empathetic, most memorable explorations of infatuation, self-worth, and most significantly mental health that i have ever seen. there have been a couple of other musical concept shows (smash, notably), but none that achieved what cxg did. it's an extraordinary work and sometimes i can't believe it was allowed to exist, and got to flourish the way it did. rebecca bunch could so easily be called unlikable - selfish, impulsive, obsessive - and yet she is so lovable and so real through all of her flaws, how can you not root for her, laugh with her, sing with her, cry with her? how can you not want her to get better? you find, eventually, it was never even about the guys, though they're fun to explore in all their neuroses too. they're almost...irrelevant. "a diagnosis" will never not make me weep. the show is just so important. this is about the story of a woman who learns how to recover, how to build true friendships (#gurlgroup4eva), and how to embrace herself.

(6). that girl: another one my mom brought me up on, and there are other shows i could mention here (i love lucy, the dick van dyke show, the addams family) as far as prototypes of modern comedy go (there is a direct line from that girl to the mary tyler moore show to friends and new girl), but that girl is particularly dear to me because it was influential to my mom, and because ann marie is a character all her own. she's quirky, she's determined, she's got the greatest 60s fashion, she's constantly getting herself into situations, she's one of the very first sitcom heroines to be a "single girl in the city" and to directly confront sexism (in multiple ways, but especially in the workplace and in the entertainment industry), she is loved and adored by her boyfriend (one of the best and most patient of all fictional boyfriends), but she is not defined by don, they complement each other. marlo thomas, the icon that you are.

(7). pretty little liars: listen. i know. I KNOW. it's silly, it's ridiculous, it has a host of issues, but i was hooked. and the thing is, though the mysteries fizzled and the reveals didn't make sense, what mattered were those girls. female friendship was the heart of everything in that story, they stood by each other and supported each other through every danger, toil, and snare, and even when they messed up, they forgave each other and came back together as a team every time. -A hardly matters, but the liars are everything. young volcanoes. aria, hanna, emily, and spencer all mean so much to me for very different reasons, and spencer especially. my genius, tenacious, too-caring girl. down these mean streets a girl must go who is not herself mean.

(8). supernatural: sigh. would be remiss not to mention it, right? have, in fact, written what amount to personal essays and fanciful poetics on this blog explaining at length what it once meant to me, have delved into the folklore urban legend americana of it all, and while i have gained a certain distance from it since the palpable breakdown i had from its ending that we do not acknowledge, those entries would hold true. it was so formative that things which are on this list would not be here without it, and i know that. it's so inextricable that i can't tell what is a thread connected to it in my life and what isn't at times. premiered on my birthday and presented me one of the greatest loves of my life, who i will always carry with me. i would not quite be me without dean. i would not be here right now without dean, in more ways than one. and i do my best to be brave.

(honorable mentions to shows tam and jenn had on their lists: the x-files, tvd/the originals, the marvelous mrs. maisel; other honorable mentions: btvs/a:ts, bones, dexter, fleabag S2, gilmore girls, the good place, jane the virgin, nancy drew/hardy boys mysteries, orphan black, the haunting of bly manor, select episodes of doctor who, i am quite certain i'm forgetting a bunch!)

for this last one i am tagging @nerdfaerie​, @arthurwilde, @desireearmfeldt, @someoneoffthestreet, @freakwiththeknifecollection, @bcyoureallthatmakessense, @setyourfireonme, @dewintering, @joons, @thebohemianbelle, @beckybloomwood, @takeawaythepain, and @wickedhawtwexler, but also any of you who wants to do this, or any of the rest of these, please do, and then tag me!!! i love to see them! i apologize profusely for the pervasive brainrot. 💟

[divinemissem13]

What You're Willing To Overlook 5

@flufftober Day 5: Honey & Bees Fandom: The Closer/ Major Crimes (Brenda/Sharon) 300 words, G Read all chapters here

---

One of Sharon’s most endearingly WASPish qualities was her affinity for tea.

Brenda suspected it was about the routine: heating the water to just the right temperature, measuring out the loose tea into the strainer, setting the timer so it would steep just long enough. And then there were the tea sets. Delicate tea cups with saucers and matching pots, a tiny pitcher for cream and a bowl for sugar cubes that always went empty because Sharon preferred her tea simple and unadorned.

Sharon claimed that it was because there was a tea for every occasion. Chamomile before bed, earl grey for an afternoon pick-me–up, green tea to help her think. Brenda, on the other hand, thought they all tasted like potpourri. Smelled nice enough, but she really couldn’t stomach any of it without a healthy dose of sugar or honey (and Sharon didn’t keep either in the house).

But Sharon looked so darn cute cradling her cup and saucer, lifting them both together to blow on the hot tea, that Brenda always said yes to sharing a pot, just to watch Sharon enjoy it while her own cup sat untouched on the table.

Then one day, something new appeared on the tea tray: a ceramic beehive, decorated in tiny bees and flowers, and filled with honey. It was so incongruous to the neatly matching china, and yet somehow it looked like it belonged there, much the way that country bumpkin Brenda managed to fit into Sharon’s orderly, sophisticated life.

Sharon smiled, watching Brenda’s eyes light up as she stirred big globs of honey into her tea and then wrapped her lips around the rim of the cup to gulp at it greedily, leaving the saucer on the table. Brenda really was adorable, even if she didn’t appreciate good tea.

[ritualoftheancients]

Ritual of the Ancients - Chapter 1: Delicious Neighbors

by Roan Rosser

This is a chapter of a complete vampire novel with a trans-masc main character and a gay romance subplot. New Chapters are posted every Sunday. If you like the novel and want to support the author, ebook and paperback copies can be purchased here. *****

The locked door to my apartment building stared at me mockingly. I rattled the door in frustration, then rested my forehead against the glass.

This was the capstone to a truly terrible evening.

“Fuck,” I muttered to myself, but my words came out at less than a hoarse whisper. I coughed and massaged my neck, trying to clear my throat so I could buzz my roommate and ask her to let me in.

I hated to do it, given it was the middle of the night. Sleep deprived Lindsay was scary. But, as much as I dreaded her inevitable lecture on responsibility, I’d been mugged on my way home from work and the thief had made off with my keys—and almost everything else, including my museum employee badge.

At least, I assumed that’s what had happened, since I had no memory of the time between leaving work and waking up in a dumpster covered in blood. I didn’t even know whose blood it was, since I was unharmed except for a pounding headache and a sore throat. But it didn’t really matter.

Steeling myself for Lindsay’s yelling, I entered our apartment number into the keypad. The phone rang for a long time before Lindsay’s voicemail picked up. She had probably turned off her phone. Not the first time I hadn’t been able to reach her late at night.

I rattled the door again and then kicked it. I was exhausted and thirsty. So thirsty. All I wanted to do was drink a gallon of water and then crawl into bed.

I lingered by the front door while I debated what to do. If I got lucky, someone would come by and I could just follow them inside. But given it was the middle of the night, if I got unlucky I’d have to sleep outside.

I caught sight of my reflection in the glass and was horrified by the sight that greeted me. Nobody was going to believe I lived here looking like this. I scrubbed the worst of the dumpster’s grime from my face with my jacket sleeve and then smoothed my short black hair down. Nothing I could do about the blood stains down the front of my jacket.

After about ten minutes, another resident of the apartments came up the walk and unlocked the front door. I tried to follow him in, but the man turned to glare at me, blocking the doorway.

“Do you live here?” he asked me, planting his feet and crossing his arms as he glared at me.

My reply caught in my dry throat. My tongue felt like sandpaper. I tried to sidle around him to the elevators, but the man threw out an arm to stop me.

“I don’t think so,” he said, moving closer and lifting his hand to shake his finger at my face.

I scowled and took a breath to try again to reply when the most delicious scent hit my nose—like all my favorite foods had combined into one delightful potpourri. Two sharp objects pricked my bottom lip. Without thinking, I lunged forward and bit down on the man’s hand.

Liquid warmth hit my tongue. It was the most delicious thing I’d ever had in my life, yet the taste was totally indescribable. As I greedily sucked down the blood, warmth spread through me, chasing away the chill. I hadn’t realized how cold I’d been until then.

My neighbor screamed and pushed me away. I stumbled backwards, but with my mouth clamped on the man’s hand, I dragged him with me. We spun out onto the walk, the man beating at my head with his free hand. But between the taste and the warm feeling, he might as well have been on the moon for all I heard or felt his cries.

“Get off him!”

I was only dimly aware of the voice until someone punched my jaw, and although it didn’t hurt, the shock of it made me open my mouth and let go.

“He bit me!” my neighbor slurred angrily.

I fell back a few steps before getting my feet under me. A second man, dark-skinned and wearing jeans and a leather jacket, stood in a protective stance between me and the neighbor, who was clutching his bleeding hand to his chest and beating a hasty retreat toward the apartment doors. I recognized leather jacket man as another resident of the apartments.

“What the hell were you thinking?” leather jacket growled. I narrowed my eyes at my prey getting away behind him.

There was a lump in my throat, and I was having trouble swallowing. “Thirsty,” I managed to get out. The unfamiliar shape of something against my lips made it hard to talk.

I met his eyes, and then my gaze traveled lower, to his neck. To the way the vein there seemed to jump to some silent beat. I wanted it.

Growling, I darted forward. Leather jacket man crouched and spread his arms, expecting me to try to dodge around him, so he was caught unprepared by my charge. I hit him in the chest, mouth spread wide, and bit down hard on the front of his neck. He bellowed, but I barely registered the sound. More delicious nectar danced along my taste buds, commanding all of my attention.

That was until the smooth skin under my lips began to sprout hair. The shock of feeling the hair against my tongue made me let go.

I stumbled back, landing on my butt in the grass. I felt like I was well on my way to drunk. I opened my eyes to find that the man was gone. Standing in his place, on four legs and wearing the man’s leather jacket and jeans, was a coyote.

“What the hell?” I sputtered in surprise as I licked my lips to get the last of the flavor off of them.

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” the coyote said.

“The coyote… talked.” The mugger’s blow to my head must have been worse than I thought if I was hallucinating. At least the headache that had been bothering me was gone, as was that intense thirst.

The coyote put its ears back and glared at me while kicking off the jeans that were wrapped around its back legs and tail. “Are you a complete idiot? Wait, never mind. Don’t answer that,” the coyote said when I opened my mouth to reply.

The coyote trotted over and sat in front of me, looking incongruous in his leather jacket and shirt. “You are in so much trouble.” The coyote glanced around and then back at me. I blinked stupidly at the coyote while the dew from the grass soaked into the seat of my khakis. “At least it looks like your victim made it onto the elevator before I changed. Still, I’m going to have to write you a ticket,” the coyote said.

My head spun as I tried to keep up with the coyote’s words. “Ticket? What?” I could see the blood staining the coyote’s shirt collar, confirming that this coyote was the person I’d bitten on the neck. “What is going on?” I looked around for hidden cameras, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary in the quiet neighborhood. “Am I on a prank show?” It was the only explanation that made sense to me.

The coyote stared back at me, looking as confused as I felt with one ear cocked back and his head tilted to the side. “Who’s your Maker?”

“What are you talking about?” I snapped back. Somehow this night was becoming rapidly weirder, and I didn’t even understand how that was possible. “How is a coyote talking to me, anyway?”

“You.” The coyote reached up with one paw and placed it over its eyes in a very human gesture. It put its paw down and sighed. “First, I’m not a coyote. I’m a jackal. Second, you can’t just eat random people off the street. We have rules, young lady.”

“I am not a lady, I’m a guy.” My heart sunk at the misgendering, as accidental as it had been. I pushed the disappointment away and forged on. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to try and eat you, or that other guy. You both just smelled,” I took a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed at the memory of the smell and the taste, “delicious.” All I wanted to do was go home and have a shower, followed by a stiff drink. Was that so much to ask?

“It’s not for some reason. Didn’t your Maker cover anything before sending you out on your first hunt?” The coyote—scratch that, the jackal looked around and then shook his head. “We shouldn’t even be discussing this outside. Come on, let’s go to my apartment and we’ll get this sorted out.” He trotted on four legs over to the jeans and tennis shoes that lay abandoned on the sidewalk, then turned to look expectantly at me. “You’ll have to let me in, keys are in my front pants pocket. And bring my pants and shoes while you’re at it.”

I’d stash the amulet, and then get a ride to the hospital. I was obviously hurt worse than I thought if I was hallucinating talking jackals. I walked over to the jackal, picked up the jeans and shoes, and found the keys in the front pocket, just as he had said.

The jackal followed me to the front door, the corners of the jacket’s unzipped sides dragging on the ground under his chest, and waited while I unlocked it. We got inside the elevator together, and before I could press the button, the jackal jumped up and bumped the five button with its nose.

When we got off the elevator, I trailed him over to an apartment door. The key from his keyring worked, and I let myself in. The jackal darted in after me. As I shut the door behind us, he said, “Just drop the pants and shoes by the door, and I’ll get them later.”

Shrugging, I did as the jackal said and then followed him farther into the apartment. He turned and looked up at me. “Wait on the couch, I’ll be right out.

I sat on the couch, looking around. The apartment was neat and tidy, except for a dirty cup on the coffee table and a discarded magazine on the couch. I picked it up and flipped through it to see that it was all about hiking and camping. Ironic, since it was owned by a talking jackal. I snorted and tossed the magazine on the coffee table next to the dirty cup. Framed movie posters from famous action and detective films lined the walls. Given that I saw literal masterpieces every day at work, the movie posters were actually a nice change of scenery. I might have to get some for my apartment.

The man, human again, came back into the living room. He’d changed into a new dark-blue button-down shirt and dark slacks. He rubbed the side of his neck ruefully, although my teeth marks were gone.

I winced and touched my own neck. “Sorry about the…” There wasn’t a delicate way to put this, so I just spit it out. ”… biting. I don’t know what came over me. Why aren’t you bleeding anymore?”

He shot me a hard look that I couldn’t read, and moved to stand in front of the coffee table with his arms crossed, looking down at me. “As a vampire, you should know better than to let yourself get so thirsty.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” I threw up my hands and flopped against his cushions with a cry of frustration. “I’m not a vampire!”

“You most certainly are.”

I crossed my arms and glared back at him. “Let me repeat myself. I’m. Not. A. Vampire.” I ran my hands down the legs of my pants, trying to hide the way my hands started shaking at his questions and carefully avoiding touching the amulet through the cloth. “My name’s Everett, by the way. Nice to meet you.” I stuck out my hand.

“Jack.”

Jack didn’t move, just looked down at my outstretched arm, and I pulled back awkwardly. He briefly closed his eyes and reached up to massage his temple. The gesture looked better in his human form than it had when he’d done it as a jackal. He sure was handsome. I realized I was staring and glanced away, blushing.

“Okay, Everett,” Jack said, moving around to sit on the chair closest to me. “I see I’ll need to start at the beginning. You are a vampire. Apparently one with a very negligent Maker, but trust me. You are a vampire.”

“And you’re what, a werejackal?” I snorted. “That’s stupid.”

Jack shook his head, looking somehow both bemused and frustrated. “It’s not stupid, it’s the truth. Now, it’s not your fault, it’s your Maker who’s going to get in trouble. I’m just glad I found you when I did. How many people have you drunk from?”

“I assume you mean the biting?” I asked.

Jack nodded.

“Then just you and the other guy you saw.” I wondered where his questions were leading.

“Did he recognize you?”

I shook my head. “He didn’t want to let me inside the building, which was how it all started, so no, I don’t think he did.”

“Good. Hopefully he’ll just think you were a pissed off junky, rather than a vampire.” Jack cocked his head, frowning. “Have you been feeling strange?”

I nodded, puzzled. “Yes, thirsty and fuzzy, with a persistent headache. It started after I was mugged earlier tonight. I’m not sure how else to describe it. I feel more alert now, though. Since I bit you two, it’s like everything is in sharper focus.”

“Tell me everything you remember.” Jack sat forward, focused on my face.

“Why?” I froze in the act of running my hands down my pants again. The amulet hidden in my pocket felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

Jack sighed and put his hands on his knees. “Look, I didn’t want to tell you this, because I can tell you’re nervous, but I’m a, well, a cop. Of sorts.”

This day was just getting better and better. Now it turned out that not only was I sitting in a cop’s living room with stolen loot in my pocket, also I was now a vampire? I had no idea which was worse, but at this moment I was leaning towards the former.

I licked my lips. I could still taste blood on them, and I wanted more. Jack was looking at me expectantly. ”Of sorts means that you aren’t a cop,” I said, looking at him in what I hoped was an expression of innocence and not guilt.

“Not in the way you’re used to, I expect. There’s a whole supernatural society threaded through the human world. I keep the peace in that world. Punish people who don’t follow the rules, help newbies, and make sure we’re kept secret. Which is why I need to find out who made you and why.”

I sat back, blinking. “Oh.” This was even worse than I’d thought.

Jack drummed his fingers on his leg while he regarded me. Every few seconds his eyes darted up to a clock on the wall that showed that it was just past midnight.

“Do I have blood on my face?” I reached up to touch my chin.

Jack shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to figure out what to do with you. I’m late for work as it is, but a newly-made vampire shouldn’t be left alone.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” I snapped, glaring at Jack. “I’ll just go home and hang out there. I need to shower and change clothes anyway.”

Jack sighed and stood up. “No. I’ll take you to your place so you can grab a change of clothes, but then I’m taking you to the office with me.”

Crap. That would be bad. “Look, I’m not going anywhere. I’m in apartment 609 on the sixth floor. I’ll hang out there. Just come by after you get off work.”

“And leave you to get burned to a crisp by a stray bit of daylight coming in through your window? I don’t think so. This is one of the reasons vampires get in trouble if they abandon a newbie like this. You don’t realize how quick you’ll go up in flames if daylight touches your skin.”

Jack kept talking and I rolled my eyes, stifling a groan as I followed him into the hall. I was still having trouble believing this vampire story Jack was trying to sell me, but I couldn’t figure out what he would get out of lying to me. I needed to find a way to ditch him.

~~~~

If you are enjoying this novel, you can pick up an ebook copy at the store of your choice: https://books2read.com/ritualoftheancients

Continue on to chapter 2~

[an-aura-about-you]

I Was a Queer Salvation Army Bell Ringer

Part 5: The Ethical Toll

Content Warning: This one touches on morality, Christianity, briefly but not graphically on Palestine, and transphobia. Also it's another super long one.

So this is gonna be the last part of this series, and that was how it was planned from the beginning. In this segment, I'm going to briefly touch on the moral problems that came up during my time working as a bell ringer.

Right off the bat, I thought this wouldn't bother me so much. Yes, the Salvation Army isn't a good organization, but bad money spends just as well as good money. From the outset, I would make jokes about being an evil backstabbing minion, how I was going to work a shift at the evil job.

(Which, if we really stop and think about my morality, all jobs are evil, but that's a whole big discussion that really merits a post separate from this one.)

But all it took was one shift for me to start seeing some conflicts with my own morality.

First there's touching on some stuff that I brought up about my boss. Going into a show that had an entry fee without paying using the name of the Salvation Army was indeed her idea, but I still did it. This isn't the first time I've done something like this, but the last time I did I was employed directly by the show. Specifically, I was part of the staff catering the show, so I already had access to the show that way. The best argument I can provide on the other side is that establishments that have Salvation Army bell ringers in front of them are ones that choose to partner with the Salvation Army. Also I want to clarify that this is not a performance show but an expo where merchants have set up to sell, and I got in without paying the $5 entry fee. But when I say that, is this just me rationalizing the bad thing I did? No matter what, I did what I did, and I can't take it back now.

After that, my boss brought me back to the office and gave me a bag of plums and apples. I already felt a little guilty taking food from her, though this also got into a weird spot because it sounded very much like no one else wanted to take them. The fact that they were Red Delicious apples made it easy to see why, but I had already accepted it before I realized I wasn't going to eat those apples, either. I did eat one of the plums and gave the rest of the plums to my sibling, but the apples got cut and dried for potpourri. Apples that theoretically could have gone to someone hungry. But they didn't because, based on the limited context I was given, the hungry also didn't want the apples. If you've followed me for any significant amount of time, you know I love food and feel very strongly about food. I think that people should not only have food to not be hungry, they should have food that tastes good to them. I did try to eat one of the Red Delicious apples, and it was one of the worst food experiences I've had recently. Like I can think of a number of things that would be actively dangerous for me to eat that are more appealing than another bite of one of those Red Delicious apples. And while I know they could stave off hunger, for fuck's sake I would rather buy a hungry person a bag of Granny Smith apples just so they don't have to suffer the Red Delicious apples. (Now's a great time to remind you it's never a bad idea to make a cash donation to your local food bank.)

One moment that nearly broke me was a young person putting a couple of coins into the kettle only for the person with them, presumably a guardian, telling me their ward is on SSI and learning how to give. I'm surprised I didn't quit then and there. I wanted to take the person by their shoulders and tell them, "Don't! Don't give me your money! It's not worth your limited income to give it to the Salvation Army! It's early enough in the day that it won't even go to them but it'll go to me! I do not want your money!" And this is either more rationalization or a worthwhile talking point, I'm not sure, but there is still the matter of choice and the dignity of choice. If this person genuinely wants to put their money in the Salvation Army kettle, then it doesn't particularly matter where the money comes from or how much of a percent of their income it is. Because the people who want to give will give whether I'm standing there or not, which I've seen on my breaks as the kettle is attached to the stand by padlock and stays out there even if I walk away from it. Still, it felt very much like the Biblical story of the Widow's Mite. And I guess this means I'm gonna segue into that for a bit.

The Widow's Mite is a story in the Gospels of the Christian Bible. The Gospels recount the life and teachings of the Christ. Since I was raised Catholic, it's a story I'm very familiar with, but I didn't have any particular recollection of anyone giving me the full context of the story until recently. It wasn't until a youtuber I enjoy, Laura Crone, talked about her own faith and this story in particular. (Relevant timestamp link to the video where this happens here. Hope you're ready for a ride because this happens in the middle of a Swan Princess movie marathon.) Rather than provide the part of the Bible that is considered the story of the Widow's Mite, I am going to give you that and the story right before it so it is in its proper context. Also, Laura goes through the whole story in her video and it's well worth a watch, particularly if you are like me and left Christianity out of an initial realization that you no longer believe what they teach that has evolved into disgust at what the Church does in the name of what is supposed to be holy. But for completeness, here it is:

Then, within the hearing of all the people, [Jesus] said to [his] disciples, "Be on guard against the scribes, who like to go around in long robes and love greetings in marketplaces, seats of honor in synagogues, and places of honor at banquets. They devour the houses of widows and, as a pretext, recite lengthy prayers. They will receive a very severe condemnation." When he looked up he saw some wealthy people putting their offerings into the treasury and he noticed a poor widow putting in two small coins. He said, "I tell you truly, this poor widow put in more than all the rest; for those others have all made offerings from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has offered her whole livelihood." -Luke Chapter 20, verses 45-47 and Chapter 21, verses 1-4

Now. There's more context, of course there is, a lot of it historical with a lot of baggage to unpack. But right now, I am looking as simply as I can at the narrative that Christianity presents to me. And even without the same background, hopefully this is enough for someone reading this to understand why in that moment I felt like a devourer of widows' houses.

And the wild thing about this is people thanked me to my face about it, many if not all of them thinking I was a volunteer. I brought up to a coworker at my regular job that I got this job as a bell ringer and I had done it before as a paid position, and they were surprised by this and felt it was inherently dishonest. And looking back, yeah, it kinda is in a lying by omission sort of way. I didn't correct people who made the assumption I was volunteering nor did I tell them the way to differentiate a volunteer from a paid employee. (Which isn't all that meaningful anyway. The difference is volunteers get cheap plastic aprons and paid employees get cloth ones, but if there aren't enough cloth aprons to go around a paid employee might wear a plastic apron.) I even said, "Thank you for your service," to a firefighter and without missing a beat he said, "Thank you for yours." It is easily the most I've ever been regularly thanked while on the job. More than in 10 years of food service, 2 years in child care, and 2 years of customer service. It felt very weird because the Salvation Army hiring bell ringers is no secret to anyone who was looking for a seasonal job at the time. It wasn't hidden away but an easy to find result on my job finding app.

The same day I received the donation from the person on SSI, a young child also gave me a Starbucks giftcard on behalf of their family. It's clear what this is saying: thank you for what you're doing. I told the child that I didn't think I could accept this, and that's probably true regardless of whether I was a volunteer or a paid employee. The child just insisted that his family had tons of them. So there I was conveniently handed a multilayered ethics problem, and I basically chose the wrong choice on each step. First I pocketed the card because the rules I was given didn't actually specify anything about giftcards. I didn't want to get into that with the driver checking my kettle and didn't even know if the Salvation Army accepted giftcards from businesses like that. But then came the matter of what to do with it. Since I've worked in giftcards before, I knew this is what's called a closed giftcard, meaning it could only be spent at Starbucks. The reason why this is is because Starbucks already has the money, in this case $5. They would have that money whether I used the card or not, and in fact would profit from me not using the card since it means there's no loss of product. By this point, I had heard of their reaction to their employees standing up for Palestine, though the version I heard was less charitable than that. In any case, I certainly didn't agree with the official stance Starbucks had then or has now. But dammit, they already had the $5. I decided to get a hot chocolate from there that very night and rid myself of the card, telling myself it would be the last time I ever go to Starbucks. And so far that's been the case. (Now's a great time to give to a charity helping the Palestinian people. I like Doctors Without Borders myself and have given to them in the past.)

All in all, I'm not happy with myself and things I allowed myself to do while working for the Salvation Army. I'm not particularly worried about admitting what I did because $10.50 of questionable moral acts is ultimately a drop in the bucket, one I can outweigh monetarily by giving to the places I suggested above and vow not to repeat in the future. And I think the best place to start is not working for the Salvation Army anymore.

There are two more interactions I want to share, one that was rather uncomfortable and one that was the best interaction I had in this entire experience. I'll do them in that order so I can end this on a happier note.

First, while I didn't officially encounter any transphobia on the job, I did encounter some from a coworker I spoke with off the clock. I had offered to give her and her daughter a ride home after our shift, because I had nothing better to do and the means to help, so why not? As we made our way there, I made polite conversation with them both, and that spurred my coworker to talk about "boys using the girls' bathrooms," and her apparent conviction that schools here were teaching these things as being all right to the kids. Which, this is Arkansas. Not to dox myself, but it doesn't take very much to find a person here who says queer people deserve to die. 90% of the voting population voted for Trump in the last presidential election. I highly fucking doubt that the schools here are teaching this as any official curriculum. So I thought fuck it, I'm technically the person in power here and outed myself as nonbinary. This ultimately did little, but I will say at least she didn't spew any vitriol about me specifically to my face. And I engaged with my own thoughts as calmly as one can, in particular the helpful idea my dad has about the whole bathroom matter. (There really should just be two bathrooms regardless of gender: one that is all stalls for people who need the stall and one that is all urinals for people who can use the urinals. It's one of the best things Dad's said about all this.) This did seem to help the matter, especially when I expressed my own thought that I don't care about anyone's genitals in the bathroom because I'm just there to pee. Nothing was resolved, but I knew nothing would be, and my coworker even agreed with the thought that a stalls-only bathroom would not be a bad idea. In spite of this, when the two found they were locked out of their home, I offered to stay in case they needed any further assistance. They told me no, and my coworker even gave me a hug. Overall, it was very confusing.

It was sometime after that interaction that I decided the physical toll and moral dilemmas simply weren't worth what money I would make from doing that anymore, so I texted my boss to tell her I would not be available for the last two days I would have been scheduled. And that was it.

Now for the best interaction I ever had on the job, short and sweet and regretful in that I couldn't express my true thoughts. While doing my usual greetings and well-wishes to passersby, a gentleman stopped in front of my kettle. He didn't give anything but instead said, "Hail Satan!" stuck out his tongue, and threw up the horns. Thank goodness I was wearing a facemask otherwise he would have seen my huge smile. I was so tempted to do the same in return and held back by some miracle of professional decorum. But if that gent is reading this now, know that you said that to a pantheist witch who was absolutely gleeful about it.

[krikeymate]

this might be a weird question but smell is a big thing for me so what do you think sam and tara smell like?

tara has asthma so i feel like perfume would be out of question for her and because sam is sam she would not wear perfume either so she doesn’t trigger an attack, right? or am i reading too much into this

also i agree with the love languages you chose for tara and sam, they make sense

Smell has always been an importantly noted topic within fandom/fanfiction, and it's not something I've ever understood, because I've never smelt someone and been like oh they smell like this and this. Maybe I have a bad sense of smell?

Perfume can indeed be a strong trigger for those with asthma. I don't have asthma but it certainly sends me into a coughing fit. Even when I can't actually smell it, I can taste it in the air and it irritates my throat. So it's probably a big no for the both of them. Even spray deodorants/anti-perspirants can cause problems. Also: air fresheners, incense, potpourri, strong scents, and cleaning products. So I guess that means Sam is doing most of the cleaning in the apartment lol. Man, having asthma must be so hard? No wonder it's considered a disability, it has such a major effect on your everyday life.

Thank you! I wasn't sure whether people would agree with me or not.

[realityhelixcreates]

By Talos, This Can't be Happening Chapter 14: Chorrol County Cruise

Swag is a man who loves his shopping.

@cardwrecks

?~?~?~?~?

To the west, and green. To the west and green. Starlight, dyed red, a luminescence hovering in his hands. A caged lizard in a ruined cave. A field watered with blood. Layers of paint obscuring the face of a loved one.

“Challenge.” a feminine voice, everywhere at once, inside. “You bring it on yourself.”

A shadow under the great oak outside the mages guild. Lightning striking a mountaintop. The path rolled out in rays like-

“Starlight...” he mumbled.

“Hm?” Helix mumbled back, not really awake, but merely responding to his voice.

“Nothin' babe. Go back to sleep.”

“Mm.”

Sometime later, he dragged himself out of bed, realizing she'd gotten up earlier than him. There was a basin of warm water and their soap in one corner of the room, waiting for him, a plate of fruit and what looked like a medieval muffin. There was also a full change of clothes. Swag held up the new garments-black with a very decorative silvery trim. Looked like they'd fit, though the trousers might be a bit short. It wouldn't matter if he tucked the hems into his boots. But would that look good? And where had these come from? He couldn't imagine they'd just been left lying around; they looked to be very high quality, like that incredible linen that had been wiped out of history by industrialization.

It did fit well, a little padded at the shoulders, but nothing blocky, and surprisingly breathable and flexible. And yes, the hems were a bit short, but not as noticeably as he'd predicted. He ate, got his hair at least partially tamed, and went in search of Helix.

She was just outside the bedroom, heating one of her alchemical mixtures in what he could only describe as a 'contraption', an elaborate alembic setup dripping hydrosol into a potpourri of salts and ash.

She had also come by a new set of clothing, a confection of green velvet and silk patterned like the leaves of the oak outside. In fact, it was quite similar to the getup Earana had been sporting, but Helix, in his opinion, wore it so much better.

God, that color looked so good on her.

He caught her staring back, and he knew that look. He held his hands up in front of him.

“Hey, I just got these on.” he joked, and she grinned.

“I've got to keep an eye on this anyway.” she said. “Maybe later.”

“Whattaya mean 'maybe'? I see you lookin'. Where'd these come from, anyway?”

“Oh, Anthragar thought we looked a bit ragged, I reckon. He pressed these on me as soon as I went upstairs. Might be custom, or might be he worried we'd make the guild look un-posh or some such. Our other clothes are off for a proper cleaning.”

“Better not damage them. That's my favorite vest.”

“You've got seven more just like it back home.”

“What can I say? I like to be on brand. And it's the only one I have here!”

“It'll be fine. Got any plans for the day?”

Figured I'd go visit the smith. Guy in Bruma recommended her for making a set of gauntlets. Prolly oughta sell off what we got that wasn't already coins.”

Oh right. Here.” She began to remove her ring.

“Uh...you know what? Keep hold of that. Might come in handy later. And I'll see if there isn't anything going on around town, any odd jobs or whatever. I'll keep myself occupied, don't worry. And I won't end up in jail again, so don't worry about that either.”

Because he knew she would.

He left the guild and had to dodge around the back to avoid being spotted by Earana, who was stalking around the great oak like a hunting animal.

The slums of Chorrol were...actually pretty nice from his perspective, basically the opposite of what they'd be in Gotham. Small, single story timber buildings, with space between them, and not a one condemned or falling down. Bright green grass everywhere, and fresh air.

Swag didn't know how much longer he could survive without microdosing on minerals with every breath. And the water not tasting of metal, surely that wasn't how nature had meant it. Where would he get his daily cadmium?

The street, still scrupulously clean, even here, curled around another large cathedral, which he walked straight past, and back into the main thoroughfare. A large statue dominated this end of town, a woman holding a fallen soldier in her arms. Close by, a cute little Rennfaire styled sign declared 'Northern Goods and Trade', a place he definitely wanted to check out.

Inside was another lizard in a dress. An actual dress this time, not a mage robe. Perhaps it could be assumed this one was female, the dress, the smaller size, and the somewhat higher pitched-though still rough-voice might lead to that conclusion. But otherwise, it wasn't that easy to tell. He couldn't help but wonder about the evolutionary story there, unless what Helix had told him was correct, and there was no evolution here.

She introduced herself as Seed-Neeus, because that was just how Argonian names were, apparently. She was also a shrewd businesslizard, and Swags haggling over the mediocre potions didn't go at all as well as he'd planned. He did get a good price for the pearl, the bronze ring, and the green gems-tourmalines, she informed him-though he kept one back for himself. The silver just went by weight, but it was worth quite a bit, and he chatted with her about local affairs, and the rest of Cyrodiil. He was from so very far away after all.

He got the feeling she was not impressed with his attempted compliments on her weird head fin things, but he was trying. He had no way to tell how old she was; maybe she'd just heard it all before. Or maybe he just wasn't her type, which, like, yeah.

But she did mention that a fellow named Guilbert Jemane had gotten some disturbing news, and was acting more erratic and drunken than usual, that there was some kind of trouble brewing on a farmstead just outside of town, and that there had been a large flush of newcomers to the city recently, including a small group from the nearby Weynon Priory; humble monks that were usually so self sufficient that they rarely ever visited.

He headed across the street towards the Fire and Steel, passing by a man arguing loudly with a gate guard that he'd never even been to Cheydinhal, but he was thinking of going just so he could lay a beatdown on some guy who was pretending to be him.

Inside the smiths shop, his eyes were first caught by a huge, olive green woman with short, spiky hair. She had large tusks and small eyes, but she barely looked at him. That must be an orc. Huh, not too bad. She was engaged in conversation with a jovial, dark skinned woman and an elf who was sporting the most gorgeous set of crystalline green armor.

Swag was instantly smitten. Where could he get a set of that? He would look like a god.

Imagine rocking up to the mages guild in that.

“Welcome!” the smith called to him after the orc and elf, an adventuring pair, had left. “Welcome to the Fire and Steel! You're new in town too, aren't you? Well met! I'm Rasheda. Is there anything I can interest you in? At all?”

Her eyes swept up his form in approval. Swag grinned.

“Maybe, maybe. First of all, that green armor the elf fellow was wearing; was that yours?”

“The glass armor? No, I didn't make that. No one can make that. He found it in a ruin somewhere.”

“Glass?”

Rasheda laughed.

“Sounds bad, doesn't it? It's not actually made of glass, its some magical alloy the Ayleids came up with thousands of years ago. It just looks like glass. Tough as steel though, and less than half the weight! Imagine if we could someday figure it out! But for now, the only way to get any is to find it in one of the Ayleids ruins, or to get it off of someone else who did. If you do, bring it back here, I can make sure it fits you right. Remarkable stuff, it can be formed like steel too, reshaped for a better fit.”

“Only in the ruins, huh? Pretty rare then.”

��Yeah, but I see more of it than you might think. We get adventurers in pretty regularly, due to all the ruins in the Great Forest outside of town. The Ayleids were populous here, and there are quite a few mines and caves, and remnants from the Alessian Empire too. There's a lot out there to be reclaimed.”

“Any to the North of here?” Earana had said that the book she wanted was located in an Ayleid ruin.

“Yes, a few. And there's Sancre Tor as well. Huge place, three ruined towers. Most of the wall has fallen down, but I here its not uncommon for people to just disappear around there.”

“Uh...I might have seen it, yeah. Creepy place.”

“Well, that's the best I can give you when it comes to glass. Is there anything else?”

She was looking again, unabashed interest in her dark eyes.

“Yeah, actually. Two things. What would you recommend for someone who's never worn armor before? And also, the smith in Bruma recommended you for a pair of custom gauntlets. Was he on the level?”

“Bruma? Wait, you mean Fjotreid? He remembers me?”

“Had nothing but praise for your work. Said you could make a pair of gauntlets so fine, they might as well be my own skin. Sure like to see that.”

“He said that?” her huge smile flashed white, even as her cheeks darkened with flattered pleasure. “What a sweetheart! And he's not wrong, either. I can do that. Let me see your hands.”

He held them out, and she flipped them over, spread the fingers out, commenting cheekily about their length and shape.

“You seem like the sort who likes to be light on your feet.” she said, lapsing away from flirtatiousness and into the more serious part of her job. “Reinforced leather jerkin, something in the Khajiti style maybe. Quiet. Flexible. Blued steel for the gauntlets; you'd want a solid strike for those. Not the mitten type, I'm assuming, more like the elven glove type, right?”

“Sounds right.”

“I have some leather already mostly put together, I could get some measurements and alter something for you right now. The gauntlets have to be bespoke though. Everybody's hands are different, and most pugilists' aren't as graceful as yours.”

She quoted him two prices, the armor quite reasonable, but the gauntlets quite a bit outside his current price range. It made sense; all the little pieces, specially treated, carefully fitted.

He agreed to have measurements taken for the armor, and the frisky attitude returned, her hands lingering longer than strictly necessary, a little bit of shared innuendo.

“You know, I have a lot of free time today. Anything I can do around the place to maybe shave a few coins off those gauntlets?” he suggested.

Rasheda grinned wide.

“Well...” she drawled.

Then she locked the door.

Swag laughed.

?~?~?~?~?

[icarusthelunarguard]

This Week’s Horrible-Scopes

It’s time for this week’s Horrible-Scopes! So for those of you that know your Astrological Signs, cool! If not, just pick one, roll a D12, or just make it up as you go along. It really doesn’t matter. Better yet! Check out “Heart of the Game, Fredonia” and see if they can sell you those D12’s with the symbols on them. Tell them “Shujin Tribble” sentcha. And “Hail, Hail, Fredonia!” Home of the Blue Devil!

Under the gun and ready to rock. Let’s have a little fun with the Potpourri category for 500 please, LeVar Burton. YES! We’re salty about it! LeVar SHOULD have been selected as the permanent replacement host on Jeopardy. But since he’s not… let’s see what this category has for you all.  

Aries 

You’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do with your musical taste! You get your toes tappin’ to “Bugle Call Rag” as performed by Doc Severinsen & The Tonight Show Band in 1991… but the song was originally recorded in 1922! How the HELL do you like Big Band Jazz this much and STILL have Ariana Grande in that same playlist!? This Week… Add some Molly Hatchet to your musical collection. It’ll be fun for just the album artwork alone. 

Taurus 

The Devil’s come looking for you while you were out gassing up your car. Something about collecting on a promise from when you were in high school - something about playing the bass in a band and getting respect! He looked pretty disappointed, too. So This Week… Seeing as how it’s a natural law of the Universe that Bass Players never get respected, it’s likely that The Devil owes YOU some recompense. Either that or he’s going to talk to you about your car’s extended warranty.  

Gemini  

Speaking of school, how about your checkered history with the principal at your high school? He was a nice enough person, always well spoken, always supported you kids, and made it to at least ONE event for every group he could every year. And what did you do? You organized a Prank on him. How you managed to build a giant Christmas Present Box around his car is still a mystery to this day - and it’s still spoken about as a Revered Legend to this day. So This Week… He knew it was you - all those security cameras didn’t lie. But he hid the information from the authorities just so you wouldn’t get in trouble. Remember that as you plan for your next April Fool’s Day Prank.   

Cancer Moon-Child 

What do you get when you mix a Fender Rhodes, a Fender Precision Bass, a Fender Stratocaster, and a single, repeated, 8-Bar Riff? You get FUNK! You get so dirty, naughty, grindy FUNK to listen to. But you don’t want to just listen, you want to play, don’t you? Yeah, we know how much you miss writing music and playing in that just-starting-out band with the funky bass player and the trumpet wacko. Why did you leave the band just as they were getting big? We’re really trying to understand your motivations there. So This Week… Look up the biggest Zydeco Bands of the Early 21st Century and feel sorry for yourself at how high they’re on that list.  

Leo 

Time to plan your next vacation - but with a twist. Sure, it’s fun to take a flight from New York City’s Laguardia Airport to England’s Gatwick Airport, but let’s do something more fun… TAKE A CRUISE! Sure, instead of an 8 hour trip it’ll be more like a week, one way… but HEY! You can get up all you want, eat when you want to, use a private bathroom, and take a swim mid-trip! So This Week… Consider splurging for your trip for once! And remember, WIFI plans start at only $18 per day. So plan your trip on the Queen Mary 2 NOW! 

Virgo 

Your music collection is for crap. NO, SERIOUSLY! Just because it’s complete doesn’t mean it’s good. Sure, you’ve got all EIGHTEEN albums put out by That One Artist, but he’s only ever had like 8 Top-40 Singles, and four of them were all from the FIRST album. Buying all those records didn’t support them - all that money went to the record companies. So This Week… He’s on social Media. Look him up and send him a message of thanks for the music you enjoyed. Maybe he’ll write a song just for you too!    

Libra

You’re going to be headed out with your friends and have a GREAT time doing something you’ve always wanted to try doing; Prix Fixe! Yes, we talked about this on a previous Horrible-Scope, and that’s where you got the idea from. Let’s get you ready to finally take advantage of this fun culinary adventure, even if the cost will be an indulgence. So This Week… Spend a little money on a properly fitted suit so you look classy for this dinner. It’ll be worth it.    

Scorpio 

One of the things you miss is getting pecans, scooped from under a heat lamp, and poured into a wax-paper bag! Munching them on the drive home and having almost none left once you get there was so much fun for you… but now you’ve finally learned you have an allergy to them. Truly… TRULY a sad thing to know. BUT, it finally explains why it got harder and harder to eat them as the drive progressed. So This Week… Invest in some antihistamines so you can enjoy long drives with warm, succulent nuts in your mouth again. (*PAUSE*) We know what you’re thinking! You should be ashamed of yourselves!

Sagittarius 

No one else knows about this, but WE do, and we’re spilling the beans. Your favorite superhero is… Wonder Woman! And not just ANY Wonder Woman, but the first live-action version with Cathy Lee Crosby and Ricardo Montalban. You think no-one remembers that clunker, but WE do! And, really, we have no idea WHY you like that one; though Ricardo Mantalban just makes everything an Instant WIN in our book. So This Week… You don’t want us to talk about your Secret Bondage Fetish, DO you? Ok. We won’t. 

Capricorn 

We know you enjoy doing cross-mixing websites, but you’re really pushing your luck. Mix-n-Matching PokeMon into weird abominations is fun for kicks, but you’re trying to turn them into personalized CCG cards and sneaking them into overnight games, trying to beat all the coffee-guzzling young adults… and heaven help us, you’ve actually managed to do it a few times! So This Week… Remember, “Exodia” is NOT a PokeMon card character! STOP SCREWING WITH THE KIDDIES! You gunna get some Bad Ju-Ju that way.

Aquarius 

We’re not going to Tech Shame you here, but we kinda have to. Just because you have a Hand-Held Ham Radio, a “Where’s The International Space Station” tracking app on your phone, and a big-open sky doesn’t mean you can take over the ISS’ computers and hold them hostage! Your dreams of being an Evil Mad Scientist are just not going to manifest… because the ISS Laptops are running a specialized version of Debian Linux - so you’re screwed since you can’t hack those machines. So This Week… Find some eMachines from 1998 and load ‘em up with Mandriva Linux, or at least TRY to. THAT’LL make you mad REAL fast!

Pisces  

It’s That Time Again! It���s time for you to start getting ready for the summer - meaning dieting so you fit into your swimsuit again. NO, we’re not Body Shaming you for your size! We’re shaming you for refusing to buy a new swimsuit! Look, that suit’s survived Hurricane Gloria, fer crying out loud! It’s time to just retire it and stop patching it everytime it splits a seam. So This Week… If you’re not gunna buy a new suit, then make some proper cut offs. They’re ALWAYS in fashion.

And THOSE are your Horrible-Scopes for this week! Remember if you liked what you got, we’re obviously not working hard enough at these. BUT! If you want a better or nastier one for your own sign or someone else’s, all you need to do to bribe me is just Let Me Know - or check out the Ko-Fi page ( https://ko-fi.com/icarusthelunarguard )! These will be posted online at the end of each week via Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook, Discord, and BLUESKY.

[boissonsaumiel]

After all the mulling spices I put in this mead, it seemed only fitting I name it Arrakis.

Not my best work.

It tastes a bit better now that it's cleared, but the bitterness from the over-steeping is still very, very present in a bad way.

I'm sipping a glass right now that I chilled in the fridge.

I feel a bit like I'm drinking liquid potpourri.

Perhaps aging might improve it? Spices lose their flavor over time when left on the shelf. I don't know if the same applies to spices preserved in alcohol.

I suppose I can use it to flavor other mead if the honey cake experiment doesn't work out.

I have *so much.*

The bottle in this pic is was sold as a ½gal bottle but I think it's actually holding closer to ⅔gal. The rest of the batch is distributed between an old whiskey bottle and two 1lb honey jars.

[silverysongs]

Christmas spirit tag game!

Thanks @queenlucythevaliant for tagging me!

Favorite music to bring Christmas spirit to your home?

Like my regular tastes in music, my Christmas tastes in music are eclectic. The Charlie Brown Christmas album will always do it for me (Vince Guaraldi is just *chef's kiss*). I love Pentatonix Christmas music, but only their earlier stuff, and I mostly have Christmas carols that they've done (i.e., not secular songs). I also love choral music. I Wonder As I Wander is the most haunting Christmas song (arr. by Steve Pilkington and sung by Westminster Williamson Voices is breath-stealing).

Movie you have to watch during the Christmas season? 

My mother has insisted for the past few years that we watch the cartoon Grinch on Christmas Day. I don't know that I have a particular movie that I watch at Christmas, but these movies have Christmas Vibes for me: early Harry Potter movies. Little Women (1994). LOTR.

Favorite way to decorate for Christmas?

This is my first year decorating by myself, so I don't have much, but I found a small wreath at Target with blue holly berries on it to match my blue bedspread, and that makes me happy.

Do you have special Christmas-y clothes?

Not really? Every year I mean to buy a nice dress for the Christmas Eve service, but it hasn't happened yet. I usually have Christmas pajamas though.

Favourite smell of Christmas?

My grandmother had these potpourri kits that we made once, and they were little bowls full of whole spices - cinnamon, cloves, star anise, etc. I don't think my family has ours anymore, but that always reminds me of Christmas. Also my mom's homemade Chex mix, which mostly smells like Worcestershire sauce - it's SO GOOD.

Idk who else to tag, so - if anyone wants to, feel free!