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toast-dude · 9 days ago

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Wings of Fate

Chapter 1: Accessory🎗️

2051 words, 2 images

Chapter 2 >>

Written for @heropartnerweek 2025

Story below the cut

Fearow and Spearow were scattered wide, everyone flying in all directions and trying desperately to avoid crashing into each other, not helped at all by the dark green shadow cast by the cloud cover, the dim lighting interrupted by lightning flashes. They had impeccable timing, occurring just often enough to prevent anyone's eyes from getting too acquainted with the dim light. They illuminated everything for only a brief moment, too little time to judge speed and distance of any other bird.

The wind writhed violently around Esareth, tossing her around like so many spearow of her flockmates. A tailwind would push her straight into a downdraft, which shifted into a headwind. These shearing drafts were the worst storm she had ever had to fly in. The tornado wielding these winds loomed close, threatening to suck her in as she struggled to escape. Rain and hail swirled everywhere, pelting her face and wings. The roar of the tornado's winds and the earsplitting cracks of thunder battered her poor ears and the lightning flashes lit up the entire sky, leaving afterimages in her eyes. Panic long since filled her entire body and hadn't stopped. She was desperate for the peaceful flying she had known before this storm appeared.

The flock has never been caught out like this before. Storms of this magnitude were never subtle, and a flock like Esareth's had no trouble avoiding them. To the elder birds, the clouds and winds may as well whisper the future. A warm and windy day is the first sign, not audible enough to hear the warning but loud enough to get you to listen. When the winds aloft shear hard to the North, they shout to be ready to fly. When you see large clouds on the horizon, they scream loudly to run away.

In the morning, the winds were quiet and the flock was settled and relaxed. Nobody was on watch for storms because the weather was calm. Esareth was out foraging for berries with the other spearow. There was a leppa berry bush they had found recently and she wanted to eat some before Astaris ate them all.

"Esareth, where are you?" Her mom called to her from above the canopy, "come here, we have something special for you."

Esareth had only enjoyed one berry, and she was sure they would be gone by the time returned.

"I hear my parents calling, see you later," she said and gave the berry bush one last longing glance. She would love to eat more, but she had to leave.

"OK, we'll be flying back to the dock after this," one of her flockmates let her know. The flock placed a strict emphasis on keeping track of its members. The importance of knowing if someone is separated from the flock, and if they are, where they can be found, is taught to every fledgling. If you go out foraging or exploring or having fun, the less precise your directions are the more important it is to keep your ears open for flock mates trying to find you.

Esareth, who heard about the bush from Gateliel, only knew the rough bearing and direction when she told her parents, so it was sadly necessary to leave the berries behind.

"I'm here, I'm here!" Esareth called out to her soaring parents, who descended to meet her.

"Hello Esareth, we have something for you," her mom said, and rocked her wings side to side in greeting. Esareth waved back and followed as her parents descended into the canopy for a landing on the forest floor.

With his long beak, her dad reached deep into his flight bag and started digging around for something. He gave her mom a look, and she ruffled her wings.

"Esareth sweetie, we have something for you," she said again. Esareth briefly wondered how many times she would say that, as she had heard it three times already. "You're now old enough to have this," her mom still wasn't explaining anything, but her dad finally found what he was looking for, so maybe she could know soon. In his break was a necklace. It had large wooden beads around the entire length, with a bigger bead hanging off the middle. He put it around her neck and it fell into place comfortably.

"This rosary is a very important treasure," her dad filled in. "Keep it safe from anyone, OK?"

Esareth looked at both of them and nodded.

"Good. We love you very much," he said, and put a wing over her. Her mom did the same.

"We're proud of you, Esareth," she said.

Before she could push off their wings in embarrassment, a loud shrieking was heard that put everyone on alert. There was something wrong and the flock needed to reform quickly.

All three of them took off and cleared the canopy as fast as possible. The cause of the alert was immediately obvious. The overcast skies were in motion. It was an impossible motion, storms simply didn't work that way.

"Fly as fast as you can!" Some fearow shouted, "That's a tornado!"

It seemed like ages ago that Esareth had almost pushed away her parents' wings. She was tired, disoriented, bruised, and even more tired. The only thing she wanted now was to hide under her parents' wings and be shielded from this horrible storm.

She, and every other one of her flockmates, continued suffering at the whims of the tornado with no end in sight. The tornado was intensifying, and everyone was tiring.

Esareth was exhausted, and she faltered. She couldn’t flap any more, and tumbled. The winds whipped her around as she struggled to regain control.

“Esareth!” She heard someone shout, her mom or dad she couldn’t tell. The tornado was sucking her in, and she waved her wings helplessly. As she spiraled closer and closer to the vortex, the temperature fell lower and lower. With so many feathers out of place or missing, the cold was cutting to the quick much easier than normal. She shivered involuntarily, from the cold and from fear. Panic was gone, slowly being replaced with resignation at her fate. When she got too close, the winds would be so strong she would be ripped wing from wing. She would be flung up high into the sky, higher than she could ever fly herself. The ground would be so very far away, and she wouldn’t have any feathers to fly with. It would be a long and high-speed descent of certain doom.

She tried to regain control again, maybe she could power out, but her wings had no energy left to flap, but it was useless. She resigned herself to her fate, and folded up her wings snugly, and closed her eyes tight. She was along for the ride now. Around and around she went, whipped around by the intense winds as they slowly drew her in toward the center. Tears she shed didn’t stain her cheeks, they whisked away instantly by the wind.

“-After that, I don’t know what happened,” Esareth said. Caspian listened intently. “Suddenly, the entire tornado was gone. Just vanished. I don’t know where it went or where I went. This isn’t the place where the tornado started, not by a long shot. I glided down here and that’s where I’ve been ever since.” She finished her recounting.

"Oh... I'm sorry.... Being separated from your entire family is so tragic! I don't even know what that's like," Caspian said.

“Didn’t you say you lost your memory?” She double-checked.

“Yes, but not like, everything. I still remember my name after all,” Caspian defended. He was a strange one. Today, while she was waiting for her flock to come, a strange black and purple ring had formed in the sky, and he fell out of it. He was clearly unconscious and hit the ground hard. Thankfully not hard enough to kill him, but it did knock him a bit loopy, it seemed. He claimed he was something called a ‘human,’ not that it meant anything to her. He was clearly a normal starly just like she was, just a bit brain-damaged from the fall.

She looked back down at her rosary. “They didn't even get to tell me what my rosary is for!” she whined and stifled a sniffle.

“Your rosary...?” Caspian asked and tilted his head to inspect it. “The necklace you're wearing?”

“Why did they give it to me? What's important about it? It's the only thing I have from them…” she wondered.

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“Whoah-ho-ho! You hear that?” Koffing said as he peeked over the bush, “The wimp’s got a mysterious treasure!”

“A very important one, no less,” Zubat confirmed. He too was peeking over the bush, not that he really needed to.

Skuntank stamped his paw. “Team Skull, huddle!” he shouted as quietly as possible so not to alert those chumps. Zubat and Koffing formed in, making a triangle. “We’ve been looking for a break for a while now. Finally these chumps show up and give us one. Lets not mess this up!”

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“I haven’t looked for them, because if you get separated from the flock, you should stay put and they’ll find you,” Esareth tried to explain. Solitary birds were difficult to deal with. They never learned how to flock and without fail they would not understand what flock life was like.

“Hey you! Important announcement!” A voice to their side shouted. Caspian and Esareth both turned to see a skuntank jump out from behind a bush, followed by a zubat and koffing. “That treasure you have, we need it! Koffing, noxious gas combo!”

The two birds glanced at each other. What was this about?

The toxic gas cloud pokemon did a little twirl, and clouds of green toxic gas started coming out of every pore. The skuntank’s tail opened up, and it started spraying purple gas everywhere. Suddenly, it made sense. These were the people that she had to protect the rosary from! They were trying to knock her out!

“Come on Caspian, lets blow this smoke back at them,” she said, and started to beat her wings furiously. Thankfully he followed along and with the two of them, they had successfully diverted the poison gas back at her attackers.

When the smoke cleared, Koffing and Skuntank stared incredulously.

“Hey, no fair! They blew our noxious gas combo right back at us!” Koffing complained.

“No matter,” Skuntank said in a strangely nasally voice, “We’ve got plan B!”

Before anyone could ask what plan B was, Skuntank lunged forward at Esareth. She tried to take off and fly up above where he could reach, but she was too late. He yanked hard at the rosary, and it came off easily. “We just steal it! Chaw-haw-haw!” He gloated. “See ya losers!”

With that, the three of them ran off down the trail.

“No! My rosary! Give it back!” Esareth called after them and gave a half-hearted chase. “I have to get it back!” She turned to Caspian, “Please, help me get it back!”

“I will!” He said, “but I don’t know how I can help; I’ve never flown before…”

This confused Esareth a great deal. He was not a fledgling. Just how much did that fall make him forget?

“Hold your wings out, you’ll remember!” She shouted, antsy that her rosary was getting further and further away. Caspian did so, and looked at each wing in turn. He folded them up again and flicked them out, as if doing it again would help.

“It’s not coming to me,” he admitted.

“Are you a bird or not? Bend your legs, spread your wings wide, jump, and flap down hard! You know how to fly!” Esareth demanded. She did as she described, perhaps him seeing it would spur his memories. He followed suit, and when she jumped and flapped hard, he did the same.

“Whoah! He said in surprise once he got airborne. “I’m flying!” he exclaimed in excitement.

“Yes, now keep flapping, we have to hurry to catch up!” Esareth said. She flapped hard to gain speed and close the distance between her and those bandits. She would get her rosary back, as long as Caspian could keep up.

#pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd wings of fate #original story #inspired by Explorers #heropartnerweek #heropartnerweek2025 #fearow #spearow #starly #tornado #my writing #my art #3d artwork #blender 3d

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fellow-fandom-fruitifier · 1 year ago

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(@mythicalmagical-monkeyman asked “ROYAL AU?” but it disappeared?.???😭😭 so just pretend I answered the ask rn💀💀)

ROYAL AU!!!

Basically I watched Cinderella & immediately decided I need royalty/borderline fairytale/fantasy AU shadowpeach. SWK is ofc the king & 6EM is apart of a ragtag group of entertainers that call themselves “The Lantern”, they r all sum kind of “”freak”” which is what brought them 2gether. The premise was originally just a feel good story where the Bull Kingdom invites The Lantern to play @ the Sun Kingdom, & SWK falls in luv w/ 6EM & vice versa. But I am incapable of keeping it simple so now there’s ✨lore✨

We have The Lantern (Macaque, Bai He, Peng, Yellowtusk, Azure)

Dragon Kingdom (Ao Lie, Mei, Ao Guang, Mei’s parents, etc)

Sun Kingdom (MK, Wukong, Tang, Pigsy, Sandy, Mo, Guanyin, Nezha)

Bull Kingdom (Demon Bull King, Princess Iron Fan, Redson)

Bone Clan (Lady Bone Demon, Mayor — idk what 2 call him yet)

Spider Clan (Spider Queen, Syntax, Goliath, Huntsman)

(The short writing/WIP below, fair warning I haven’t reread it or anything & this is the 1st draft + it’s old💀💀💀, it’s also kinda just an idea dump so idk how much would actually b canon 2 the AU yet)

The dark and looming forest, something usually eerie enough to send the bravest men running, was made less intimidating by the warm violet fire light. The campfire crackled as the group around it told tales, smiles wide and bellies ready to be filled. The sound of laughter only added to the homey atmosphere.

Peng cackled as Bai He told the story of how Demon Bull King, their closest ally, attempted to court Princess Iron Fan only for her to turn the tables. Sweeping him off his feet instead. The story wasn’t new nor was this the first time it had been told, yet it sent their feathered friend rolling each and every time it was regaled.

Macaque rolled his eyes fondly, lips quirked up in a soft lopsided grin. “Alright,” he said, catching everyone’s attention. “The food is ready. Bring your bowls and get your fill,” he said. Holding up the ladle from the pot strung up above their fire. Several cheers were heard. The more polite few, Azure and Yellowtusk, giving their thanks and the less patient, Peng and Bai He, giving theirs when elbowed from the former.

Macaque rolled his eyes at their antics, scooping the soup from the pot into their clay and wood bowls. “Thank you for foraging Yellow,” he nodded gratefully. Yellowtusk smiled.

“Anything for your cooking brother,” he said with an elegance only he could hold. Bai He nodded eagerly, completely agreeing. Azure admonished her for it, reminding her to eat properly lest she choke. The girl, at the soonest opportunity, maturely stuck her tongue out at him. Causing Peng to snort and actually choke. Yellowtusk patted them on the back.

Macaque smiled warmly at his little ragtag group. They were traveling entertainers. All of them were a freak of some kind, Macaque a shapeshifter who puts on shadow puppet shows. Having been ‘blessed’ with the gift of shadow and the sixth ear from a young age, he’d been sought out and held captive for many years before he’d found Bai He.

Bai He is a winter fae. Winter fae have quite the bad rap and yet she’s the sweetest girl he’s ever met. Brave and compassionate, she cares so brightly for her friends that it’s impossible for them to even doubt their place by her side. Macaque had met her when he’d been captured by the Bone Clan. The two had escaped together and the start of their theater began, turns out she had quite the knack for special effects.

The next to join their small gang was Azure Lion, a griffin cursed to live as part man. Apparently the man had some bad friends back in the day which had led him to his capture, a cage which Bai He and Macaque had freed him from. Azure had proved quite the leader, quickly taking the reins of their group and helping organize shows.

After him had been both Yellowtusk, a great warlock, and Peng, a magnificent harpy. They had encroached on the twos land by accident where Peng had fiercely attacked them. Upon discovering the misunderstanding they’d invited them in as an apology. Rather Yellowtusk invited them in. Turns out the two had been rather bored living on their own and Yellowtusk had always wanted to explore the world. So their three soon became a five.

Peng made a good scout and bodyguard while Yellowtusk knows plenty about medicine. Macaque also valued the warlock's insight when it came to plants. He always had the best ideas for add ons.

In their travels they had made many friends and ally’s. Their biggest ones, as mentioned previously, was the Bull Kingdom. Demon Bull King, a powerful centaur; his wife Princess Iron Fan, an elemental witch that has a deep connection with the wind; and their son Redson, half centaur and half elemental witch who, unlike his mother, has quite a strong connection to fire.

The five had been visiting both for shelter and to perform when an opposing kingdom had attacked. The group had lent their aid in the battle and quickly endeared themselves to the royals. The Bulls even going as far to claim them as family.

Smiling Macaque scooped up some of the mushroom soup and blew on it to cool it down, carefully taking a sip from it. He hummed in satisfaction. Yet another meal made to perfection. The next kingdom they plan to stop by is the Sun Kingdom. Apparently a great ball will be happening and the Bull Kingdom had invited the five to attend and perform, to which they had agreed.

Bai He had been rather ecstatic. According to the forest animals the Dragon Kingdom would be attending, another ally of theirs. Mei, the princess, had almost immediately taken to Bai He and the two became thicker than thieves. Of course not all kingdoms were receptive to their kind so Macaque was just hoping they would be welcome in the Sun Kingdom. While he wasn’t positive he would take his Bull brothers word for it.

After finishing the soup Bai He gathered up the dirty dishes, grumbling all the while as if the chore roster hadn’t originally been her idea. Her bug-like wings quivered as they rid themselves of the dust of the day. Bai He wore a light blue sleeveless top, that always reminded him of frost, with dark blue trimming. She also donned baggy white shorts and darker blue boots tied up with black leather string. The only thing with true color variation was the pink handkerchief holding her long black hair, which had a stripe of white, back from her face. A gift from Mei that the dragon girl said would bring out her warm brown eyes.

Peng had dark teal baggy shorts as well as a purple loincloth held up by a golden belt. A dark green feather sticking out from their black hair pulled up into a high bun. Yellowtusk wore a simple dark purple robe with gold accents, a compliment to his brother's outfit. His white hair is short and tucked back behind his ears with a few loose strands framing his face. While Azure wore skin tight black pants and shirt, which only had one sleeve and was cut diagonally in a way that exposed half of his torso, and finally a golden armored skirt with gold shoulder pads. His ginger hair pulled into two braided pigtail resting in his shoulders.

Macaque himself had a red cloak, a black baggy shirt with even baggier sleeves and gold accents, dark red pants, and black boots also with gold accents. The shapeshifters own short black hair simply slicked back to stay out of his face. The only real thing their clothes had in common was a necklace crafted by Yellowtusk, the symbol was his shadow lantern and each amulet was enchanted with protection wards.

Macaque absolutely did not cry when Yellowtusk handed them out no matter what Peng says. Which is super hypocritical because they totally did.

ANYWAYS!

“Alright!” Azure spoke. Gaining the attention of the group he smiled, clasping his hands together as Bai He came back from the river with the freshly cleaned dishes. “It’s getting late and if we wish to arrive in time we must leave earlier,” he announced. Grumbled agreements rang through the camp as the group pulled out their blankets.

Macaque wheezed as Bai He tackled him, wrapping her arms and legs around him like a koala. “Really?” he groaned. She laughed as he pulled the blankets up over them. The next to lay down was Yellowtusk and Peng, then finally Azure. He closed his fist and the fire went out, their supplies being gathered up by shadows and deposited in their rightful place.

The five gathered up their blankets and pillows for their cuddle pile. Macaque relaxed into the bed as he shifted from his human form to his puma one, wrapping his tail around his sister's ankle in an effort to hug her back. Peng and Azure's wings spread out to cover them all as Yellowtusk whispered a spell of warmth. Soon the gathered heat of his family lulled him to sleep, excited for a full day of performance tomorrow.

——————

Wukong was excited. The neighboring kingdom, the Bull Kingdom, had invited the rather infamous traveling group The Lantern.

#Tetris Reads The Sacred Scrolls #Tetris Writes Skrunklies #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk six eared macaque #lmk sun wukong #lmk shadowpeach #shadowpeach #lmk bai he #lmk peng #lmk yellow tusk elephant #lmk azure lion #lmk demon bull king #lmk princess iron fan #lmk redson #lmk mei #lmk lady bone demon #only tagging characters mentioned in the small story #tetris belies it’s wisdom upon thee

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obsidianwarden · 3 months ago

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a thing for @hxffhxrbs

The castle was quiet.

The silence that settled within the ancient walls was unfamiliar. No distant chatter, no infuriating footfalls of reckless children, no misfired spells crackling in empty classrooms. It was the brief lull before the students arrived and the school roused to life, giving time for the staff - old and new - to settle in. Snape has spent years bracing himself for the abject torment that was teaching a fine and delicate art to useless children, a tradition as tedious as it was inevitable. Before, he endured it at Dumbledore bequest, now he wasn't so sure. Severus Snape was still Hogwarts' own resident Potions Master, for he had refused the offer of the school's highest post after enduring one hellish year of it during the Second War; even the echoes of those memories still caused him too much pain. Rumour had it he never applied for the DADA post again, either.

He had not expected - had not wanted - to return. Yet here he was, drifting through the halls like a spectre too stubborn to fade, his presence tolerated rather than welcomed. The moment he stepped inside, he knew it had been a mistake. He caught his own reflection in a window of the Great Hall and saw the weight of survival carved into his sallow skin - a man out of place, a relic of a war, still searching for a reason to remain. Somehow, he did not think it would be possible, but Snape had grown thinner, lankier and more sullen. His black hair was now streaked with silver strands.

They were coming to the end of the Dog Days, the perfect season for harvesting ingredients, and so Snape took to the halls at night, avoiding the unrelenting warmth of the day. He'd swapped wool for cotton, but it didn't seem to make a bloody difference to the way he was sweltering in his robes. He strode with an air of weary disdain, his usual black robes billowing behind him, not in dramatic flair but with the weight of a man burdened by far too many regrets. The other reason was, as ever, that the god of sleep did not come easily - not that it ever had - but now the silence was suffocating, pressing against his chest like unseen hands. He welcomed it, in some twisted way. It was familiar, a quiet that only war left behind. Hogwarts endured. He, regrettably, had too - but the school had not been left untouched - the walls bore new scars, some visible, others woven into the very magic of the place. There were names markedly missing from the roster, there were absences that could be felt grievously.

He was walking back from a fruitful session in the greenhouses when he chanced – rather bumped into a new face in the courtyard hallway.

Azalea Sprout.

Her appointment had been mentioned by Minerva in passing, lost in the drudgery of staff meetings and the weary charade of normalcy. He had known, of course, that Pomona's daughter had taken the post of Herbology professor. He had expected another Sprout - earthy, cheerful, unshakable in the way that only Hufflepuffs could be. For a brief, disoriented moment, Snape's mind struggled to reconcile the image before him with what it knew. He recognised her instantly - he had once taught her. The sight of her, not as a child scribbling notes in his classroom but as a peer, as a professor, was jarring in a way that made his skin itch. Rationally, he knew time had passed, that she had earned the post, yet something about it felt fundamentally wrong - as if he had blinked and the world had rearranged itself without his permission.

He loomed in the dim hallway, his robes rippling slightly in the draft as he came to an abrupt halt. The scent of damp earth and crushed herbs clung to him - an unmistakable sign of his late-night foraging. His black eyes, sharp despite the eternal exhaustion weighing on him, flicked over the woman before him. He stared at her with the same wariness he reserved for anything too alive. Her youthful brightness seemed to fill the space in a way that made him uncomfortable. The silence of the castle pressed in once more, but it felt different now. Almost intrusive.

His lip curled. A strong, familiar urge to scowl rose within him. A reprimand hovered on his tongue before he remembered - she was not a student anymore. But she could have been, with her wide-eyed surprise, caught out of bed past curfew. He intoned dryly, with his trademark drawl;

"Professor Sprout - what a relief. For a moment, I thought I'd caught a particularly overgrown Hufflepuff out of bed. I suppose I should be grateful you no longer require detention."

#hxffhxrbs #[azalea already has my whole heart]#[have a weird post war AU thing but pls let me know if you wanna go down a different route !!]#[snerp has conflicted feelings]#[did this get too long? argh it got too long]

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m4y4vi · 3 months ago

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I kinda like the POC I had made earlier and came up with some narrative ideas for later chapters.

So I wrote the chapter 2, it's just a rough draft, and follows the still untitled story from the last post..

Maya clung to trunk after trunk like a serpent slithering through a forest, undetected still, her goal? To study the main root system of the Great Banyan tree.

The woody maze was indeed a spectacle under the lush green light through its hazy green canopy crown... Finding the main trunk of the Great Banyan was to be a challenge. the 250 year old behemoth slumbered, indifferent to Maya, its myriads of thick Arial root growth all around had made the single tree look like a lush forest instead... The chirping of birds, the racing squirrels, foraging for the Banyan's fig... the ambiance didn't betray the history of the ecosystem built around the massive tree system.

But Maya was no slouch, she had come even more prepared by fusing with the beast essence that brought the lightning quick reflexes of the black bengal cat to her epigenetic suggestion.

Maya wasn't gonna look around blind for her goal, the restricted area was heavily guarded by the faction of the tiger... Little did they know the bread crum trail of guards is exactly what will lead Maya to the heart of the behemoth.

A shadow flickered behind her, it was Rundra, "Maya wake up", Maya heard Rundra's whisper behind her...

"This was not the time you idiot! you will alert the guards!", she whispered looking back at him.

"Maya look! you finally manifested arcane fire!!!", Rundra's voice finally reached Maya. The snot bubble burst, and she was awake... the excitement that she had manifested cool shit really did grab her attention all the way from a dream, huh... Typical Maya, Rundra shook his head

"Waa... Huh?", Maya yawned wide, still a bit drowsy from the rumbling of all the carriages they had hitch hiked the night before... She knew they were still a day away from Yana.

"Finally woke up huh? Sleepy head... The carriage owner is about to fall asleep waiting for us to get down so that he can go his path", Rundra shook Maya again by her shoulder.

Maya swore Rundra shook her just to annoy her this time... "You think it is funny? Huh! 'Maya! You did done arcane fire!', beating a dead horse are we now?", So she pushed him, jumping outside the carriage, as they started wrestling abruptly. The performance was... very... Peculiar.

The two waved the carriage owner bye, as they decided to find some water and food in the nearby settlement.

Dusk had started to break. The silvery yellow pouring onto the horizon, a gentle warmth, whispering to one the veil of the night has been lifted.

"Aren't you worried about your admission interview, Maya?", Rundra asked like the worry warrent the big fluffy dog of a man was... But Maya sighed nonetheless. Her odds at bagging the admission scholarship wasn't looking good.

The Creed of Thought offered a sponsorship for all, a dorm to stay and sanctioned a amount of fixed credits every month for 8 months, for any new beginner student, whose synergy between their Soul Trait and Enlightenment spark was found to be of interest to the Creed... Ofcourse there were other perks too, but if Maya ever wanted to brood over anything, it was going to be over material gain...

"I will figure something out...", Maya looked down before looking back up at Rundra as they walked, "I bet you are going to be sailing smooth yourself! Mr. Indifferent Vigor?!"

Ofcourse Rundra was going to amaze his assigned interviewer simply because he had the soul trait, 'Vigor', and the enlightenment spark, 'path of indifference'... Maya wasn't too jealous but it would be a lie to say she wasn't...

Maya bumped into Rundra on purpose, pushing him with her shoulder, before running off. Rundra smiled before chasing after her... Maya wasn't going to be down no matter what circumstances she stumbled into... The very serpentine gremlin energy called greed made her never worry... Instead she always aimed to make the best of the situation... She was going to be fine. Well, fine enough after Rundra shows her that he's not be messed with! Rundra ran after Maya. As the small settlement drew closer.

The small agricultural settlement was serene, as the farmers worked the tea fields before the morning dew dried up. The clay huts that lined the steppe farms were small and ergonomic. With coconut leaves for its roof.

Maya and Rundra stepped in front of the sign that advertised a vendor's hut. The tall woman stepped out in a loose black blouse and a cotton skirt... Rundra blushed and turn away. Maya knew Rundra blush wasn't related to the stew simmering back in the vendor's hut...

Rundra slinged his travelling sack on his back, they were stocked for all necessary resources for the days hitch hiking.

Maya cocooned out of the tall grass she was hidden by, gripping what seemed to be the deep purple of frost deadnettle vines... Rundra wasn't surprised at the development... Maya always made a point to forage any wild over growth if she was around.

"We aren't in the orphanage anymore Maya... Whom are you gonna trade that with? The warden who gave you a candy in exchange for the mint is all the way back from where we started!", Rundra teased Maya about her sweet tooth.

"Shut up Rundra! I am going to use the herb's scent... as a relaxant, okay? I should refine my soul form with the whispers of the void... I need to find an interesting synergy if I am to prepare for the scholarship interview", Maya said, easing her breath quickly, "the mint will help me align my neural signalling with void easier... You know about the torturous pace of my enlightenment spark is right? And the shaking of the many carriages we rode didn't help either"

"Ya, ya, lets get going then, the road is starting to get busy", Rundra said pointing to the traffic on the road, a day of hitch hiking awaited them.

"Lets go then", Maya's travelling sack was already hanging from her shoulder when she stepped ahead of Rundra.

Maya quid chewed the mint alongside another dried herb from her travelling sash... The retronasal scent helped Maya focus on aligning her neural signalling with the void... She was refining her soul form, a practise Soul Spiritualist performed to refine their manifestation and unlock more synergies.

But the sudden halt of the carriage threw her off balance, she immediately gripped Rundra's shoulder who sat on the diagonal extreme in the small carriage.

The commotion on the road made itself heard, without needing any attention... A quarrel among the traffic on the path... Both sighed, the road seemed blocked for now so both got out from the carriage they were riding, curiosity calling them.

A surprisingly sharp looking man, no older than Rundra seemingly, but shorter than Rundra by about a head length and darker of skin, was quarreling with the owner of a fancy looking carriage... The man wore a white shirt and lilac trouser... and From the sound of the commotion, the man and the carriage owned were arguing over the fare for travel.

"look! I will pay you in Creed credits later, I promise, I am running short on coins right now! And we just have another half a day of travel!", the man argued.

"but I do not trade in Creed's credits young man! I am not from Yana to even use the currency you offer me", replied the carriage owner.

It was now clear that the man was a student at the Creed of Thoughts, Maya immediately smelled opportunity and knew she had to help the man.

Maya reached the scene of the argument, Rundra following just behind her, "Hey! We couldn't help but overhear the conversation", Maya spoke, Rundra wasn't sure what Maya had in mind. Maya turned to the man directly, "are you a student at the creed of thought? Mr..."

"you can drop the honorifics, my name is Mārtand", the Man replied, "Yes, I am a student at The Creed", Mārtand replied to Maya, turning over to meet the carriage owner, "I would also add that I am a distinguished scholar at the Creed too"

"but, young man, why would I care about your status within the creed? I am not going to accept a trade in Creed's credit", The owner replied.

"I can pay in coin on your behalf!", Maya offered to Mārtand, "I am Maya, I am a prospective Soul Spiritualist making me way to Yana, I can pay in coin now for you and you could pay back with Credit when we are in Yana!"

Rundra questioned if Maya had to coins to pay off the fancy looking carriage's fee, but he remained quite for now...

"done.", said Mārtand, "Yana's Market exchange should be currently valued at 2 credits for each 3 coins. I am short of 30 coins, so that will be 20 credits that I would owe you"

Randra could feel Maya gesturing to contribute to the exchange, he still wasn't sure what Maya had in mind but he followed suit. Both of them foraged their pockets to add up to the necessary amount of 30 coins.

"there!", Maya said as she handed over the coins to Mārtand, "how would I find you once I am in Yana? Mārtand?"

Mārtand revealed a black card from his pocket, "show this to any vendor in Yana, they will be atleast able to point you in the general direction of me... I will also be on the look out for a student names Maya if you aren't able to find me by tomorrow evening. All right?"

Maya took the unassuming black card, "all right!".

And with that, the journey continued as the traffic started moving again.

#my oc stuff #oc #proof of concept #writing #rough draft

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analoceits · 1 year ago

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mushroom rings & faery things chapter 1: loyalty

A03 link

note:

thanks to ChaosIsMyName on A03 for reading this over!! theyre the fucking best and yall should read their shit.

also uhh. felt fair to warn that i do NOT pull any punches on my body horror. its brief and skippable but i do get pretty intense when i do go with it soo, yeah. as well this is probably one of the darkest and messiest chapters in this whole fic, and the full promise of older brother remus wont come in till later [like chapter 3] so yeah 3 it will happen eventually but right now everyones too messy to be sweet. you can see the seeds of it start to grow tho!!

tags:

Disabled Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders-centric, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Fae, Body Horror, (for like 1 or 2 paragraphs but yknow), Fae Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Light Sides As Family (Sanders Sides), Found Family, Things look Worse Than They are, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, implied/referenced suicidal ideation, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders has a Cane, Remus Typical Gore Discussion, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Discussions of Death/Grief, no one dies tho,

I’m so sorry,

I know you don’t want me to do this, but I know I need too. I can’t go another day not sure if Roman will live or die, and I doubt you guys can either. No matter what you say, I’m indebted to you. It’s time I pay that back. Go to the edge of the woods, my gift will wait there.

With endless loyalty, Virgil.

Virgil pocketed the note in silence. It was the last of many ugly, emotional, gut-wrenching drafts and the only one he could imagine having them read. The only one he had managed to write without crying. With it completed, he had nothing left to do here.

He took one last look at his room from the bed. It didn’t look familiar; he had cleaned up most of his things so they wouldn’t have too while grieving. Still, there were some marks of himself that he couldn’t hide under the bed.

A scuff in the tile from his boots, old purple sheets torn where he pulled on them too hard, a single blind tied to the rest with green string where he broke it. Family carved into a bed post. Despite his best efforts, there was proof he had lived.

With that bittersweet thought, he pulled himself up off the bed and steadied himself with his cane. He smiled just barely, slowly making his way down the stairs and around the hall. As soon as he was off the stairs, his eyes locked on the front door, but he silently shook his head.

There was one stop before he had to leave.

It took care to ease the bedroom door open silently, but as soon as he did he was at Roman’s bedside. He couldn’t help the way his stomach twisted with guilt at the sight - white bandages wrapping around his stomach where a red sash should be. The only red left was that pouring out of his guts, now.

Between bouts of crying and frantically checking his bandages, Logan had called it a godly miracle he survived. That was, of course, right before Patton physically dragged him to bed for his own sake, but it still held some weight. Their luck couldn’t last them forever, though.

His eyes darted down to his cane when the thought hit him. The cane was a gift from Roman, one he had carved for hours on hours with painstaking care after Virgil started to complain of his pain. The one with from your family carved under the handle in gentle letters. Virgil had to hold back tears of joy when he first used it.

It was the last gift Roman was able to give him, a gift to make sure he wasn’t in pain. Even with the cane, he couldn't help Patton forage, or Logan shop, or Roman hunt. The thought sent a strange spiraling guilt through Virgil, but it didn’t matter.

It didn’t, because he knew he could fix it anyway. No matter how high the price may be.

He slipped the note out of his pocket. It was so small in his hand, but it must’ve weighed ten thousand pounds with how hard it was to hold. He tucked it in between Roman’s fingers with painstaking care. It was the only spot he could think to leave it.

Sparing one last glance to Roman’s limp form, he turned his back on the bed. The satchel felt practically weightless when he pulled it over his shoulder - if you could even call it that. It was tiny, only enough to fill a small cup of milk and a tiny jar of honey. That was all he needed.

Right as he went to stand up, a sharp whimper sounded from behind him. He glanced back to Roman, twisting and turning fitfully in his bed between little cries. Right, nightmares. They had only gotten worse since his accident, Logan had mentioned.

He hesitated before turning around, but he knew he didn’t have the guts to leave him like that. He was loyal to him. His hands were practically shaking as he nervously brushed the hair out of Roman’s face and shushed him, “shh, it’s ok.. there you go, there you go bud. You ain’t got anything to fear, Ro.”

Slowly, Roman stopped his twisting and turning, quieting down. Still, there was the slightest furrow to his brow and Virgil couldn’t help the fond way he sighed. He leaned down over him, brushing a finger over his brow as he kissed his forehead.

As soon as he drew back up, there was a hand softly grasping at his wrist, and it took all his willpower to pull out of the grip. “I know,” he said as he fit the sheets back over Roman, “I don’t want me to leave either.”

It wasn’t hard to open the house door silently and it wasn’t hard to pace down the stone path without his boots or cane making a noise. No, that wasn’t hard, he had practiced. It was hard to not look back. It was so hard, to swallow his guilt and grief and not look at those unlit windows.

He kept walking anyway.

Their house was near the edge of the woods, so he knew it wasn’t going to be a very long walk. Still, his entire body ached and he stumbled down the path as it turned from stone to gravel, then to dirt, then to overgrown grass. Brambles thickened on either side of the trail.

Finally, he reached the edge of the woods, and it was just as great and imposing as he remembered. Dark, thick leaves hung overhead and any trace of moonlight would be gone as soon as he passed under those trees. He knew he wouldn’t need the light, the path painstakingly memorized but the darkness felt endless nonetheless.

With one deep breath he pushed between the leaves and made his way onto a deer path carved in the grass. There was just the barest shine from moonlight that managed to worm its way between leaves, and he thanked the heavens for that.

Every passing step through, though, had the moon’s light fading until pure black clawed at the edges of his vision and he could barely see his own boots. The old growth of the forest thickened around him as he went on.

He kicked through undergrowth and slapped at brambles with the edge of his cane. Thick brambles and thorns caught on the edges of his pants, as if the forest itself was pleading with him to head back, but he simply kicked through and continued. No matter what anyone said, he had a duty.

The walk was an hour at most, but it felt like ages. Every step he took he wanted nothing more to turn around and bolt home, but he was not a coward. He was loyal to a default; he would not give up when he was needed. Even if he couldn’t think to call himself a good person, he payed his debts.

Even with the misery, he had a slight bit of company. The sounds of nature churred around him; a breaking stick and then the delighted chirp of grasshoppers, a shrill whistle cry of a bird and then a distant splash from a pond out of his view. The closer he got to his destination, the louder and more frequent the noises became; an accompanying orchestra. He didn’t know if it was a hopeful heroic swell or a tragic one.

Finally, the woods started to clear around him; giving up on fighting him. Slowly, at first, brambles let up and the barest glint of moonlight shone through the trees, and then all at once as the last bit of undergrowth caught on his boots and he stumbled into the clearing.

It was uncomfortably beautiful. The full moon was bright, shining and hearty (he was sure it had been a half-moon when he had entered, but he didn’t think that mattered where he was.) The stars glittered above head along with it and it felt like they were winking down at him for some inside joke he was now in on.

The main thing that caught his eye, however, was the ring of mushrooms. They were stark, bright red and it briefly reminded his of Roman’s garish sash - then it reminded him of his blood, and his heart sank. It was fine, he told himself, he was making it up now.

He took a few paces ahead and then dropped to his knees right in front of the faery ring, carefully and slowly removing the pack from his shoulder and unloading the contents. Milk, honey, and a bowl. Perfect.

A strange sense of calm came over him as he placed the bowl in the farthest point of the ring. It was a painful, aching calm; like he was planning his own funeral. A singular mourner holding vigil for his own life, a living corpse. It was grim, but more than fitting.

The milk and honey smelled disgustingly sweet as he poured them both into the bowl, even if his hands were shaking. The moon and the stars glowed overhead like lanterns - no, eyes, eyes burning into the back of his skull. They waited to see what he would do next; lions waiting to pounce on him.

As soon as the contents were poured out, he lifted himself up with cane and took a step into the circle. His body rocked with invisible force until he dropped and was kneeling, hands desperately wrapped around the still up-right cane like in prayer. It wasn’t really that funny to him, but he didn’t try to move.

Instead, he bowed his head, terror suddenly pounding through his ribs and lungs like a horribly off tune song. Grief ran through jaw and throat, wrapping around it like a snake and making it hard to breath. Grief for himself and grief for growing old with them. Even if he knew he needed to do this, he missed home.

Still, through the aching pain, a deep, indescribable burning set ablaze in his finger tips and deep in his chest, and every spot where Roman’s nimble fingers would cart through his hair when he needed it. He thought that warmth might be called loyalty.

“I have an offering,” his voice was more hoarse than he had expected, but it was good enough. For a brief, but completely nauseating moment, nothing happened. The stars continued to blink above and moonlight danced in his vision.

Then blood welled through the grass, and the earth became an open wound. Dirt pushed itself apart and away, grass seeming to sway to avoid what was crawling out of the earth. Blood and sap, wood and flesh arose all at once in a spiraling tower of something, something that should not exist. Skin knit over pulsating, ugly flesh and a pair of eyes stared at him for something that was supposed to be a face.

Finally, something human like was formed. Human-like, because those few seconds taught Virgil that whatever fae were, they were not human. It stared down at him, a strange blank curiosity on its features.

As he stared back at it, something suddenly clicked in his brain and he was sure he was going to be sick. He wanted to be wrong, but the only question left was a simple one. Why the hell was Roman here?

No; it wasn’t exactly Roman, but at the same time.. it could only be him. It was a strange, gross sight. The same dorky smile that showed just one too many teeth, but the teeth were as sharp as blades. The same striking green eyes, but an odd cold rested behind them.

The figure - person - fae, fae, had scars littering up and down his skin and ungodly green eyes and a wide smile. Passion and adventure and want burned behind his eyes but it was wrong, scarily feral, scarily.. animal.

At a closer look, he was far too old as well. A decade older than Roman, at least. Age weighed on his face in the form of crows feet and a thick mustache, the same color as his hair. It was as dark as Romans, to be sure, but colder - without the red tinting it warm.

Was this.. some fucked up joke? Was this a near death hallucination? Or maybe, maybe this was the first form of torture planned for him, a reminder of why he was here. Either way, the sight made it hard to breath.

The fae spoke first, “I’m Remus, your local fae prince.” With the word Remus sickness and the cold scent of pinewood rushed through Virgil so hard he leered. The prince of the fae, the actual fucking fae, just gave him his name. Freely, just as that.

Virgil realized what it was a second later - a show of power. A quiet, but impactful way to remind Virgil that no matter what information he had, no matter how hard he fought, he was powerless here. It made his heart sink.

“Thank you,” Virgil whispered and in the same breath he cringed from his own words. Right, no thanking them. How had he forgotten? “I’m here to offer myself to you, on one condition.” It felt incomprehensibly stupid to speak of conditions when he was on his knees.

“I love conditions!” The too-shrill voice practically squawked out, leaning one elbow on Virgil’s cane nonchalantly. “What do you want, little stormcloud?” He grinned down at Virgil, clearly awaiting his response with delight.

“.. I have a friend,” Virgil carefully avoided his name, “he is gravely injured and, though stable, will not survive winter like this. I have another friend - he is trying to make a remedy. Theres one last ingredient he needs, a flower - oleander.”

Remus gave him a look, a single eyebrow raised at him. “Stormy - can I call you stormy? - Cool, thanks. Oleanders a poison, at least to you little.. flesh beasts. I don’t think your thinking of the right flower. It’d be cool to poison him and all, but y'know - doublechecking.”

Virgil thought over the words for a second, because he knew it couldn’t be a lie - even though that was exactly what his knee-jerk reaction wanted to say. After a second, he forced, “no offense, but I trust his medical knowledge more than yours.”

“Well, if you insist,” Remus shrugged then grinned, “still, that’s all you ask for your life!? Most ask for more than that. Money, power, fame, love - and lust~, of course,” the creature wiggled his eyebrows and Virgil bit back the urge to gag. “You can ask for more, you know. A lifes worth more than a flower.”

Virgil looked up, mildly stunned by what he heard. Was Remus.. trying to help him? The thought sent a feeling of vertigo through him, but he hesitantly spoke, hand picking each word that slipped out of his mouth, “there won’t be any extra.. stipulations because of this, will there?”

“Nah! I’m just bored, you see, and I love doing those little tasks for you mortals. They always go through the same cycles. First their filled with delight and shock at their new gifts, then grief and disgust as they ask why their daughter, or lover, or brother has went.” Remus turned his head back and practically cackled through out.

“.. Alright,” Virgil knew the fae couldn’t lie, and he couldn’t find much of a loophole in the words, no matter how.. depressing. “Some money to be comfortable for the following years, good fertile land to plant on, and a hunters blessing. For my family, please.” Virgil stared down for a reason he himself didn’t quiet understand.

Remus looked down at him with a strange expression. It took Virgil a moment to process it as curiosity, but before he could comprehend that, the fae spoke. “Man, you’re weirdly humble. Don’t even want any good shit! Or just, well, shit. Do you know how many farmers have asked for good manure?” He turned his head back and laughed, before looking back down, “well, they don’t usually offer their life for it.”

Virgil turned his gaze to the side. The words weirdly burnt at his chest. It was the reminder, he realized. He wanted to go home so fucking bad. The rough dirt made his knees ache and his hands blistered against the wood he held so tight and he wanted nothing more than to step out of the mushrooms, come home, and hug his family so close he didn’t have words for it.

“Will you stop mocking me?” Virgil hissed through his teeth, fear burning in his heart at every word that slipped out of his mouth without his permission, “I just want to get sacrificied in fucking peace before I spend the rest of eternity dancing as my skin burns off and muscles rot away, and- and-” suddenly, it was hard to breath. His lungs felt tiny and air was too large to choke down.

The fae thing gave him a strange look from where he hovered over Virgil, watching him have a panic attack like he was a mildly interesting rock. After a weird long moment of that, he spoke with delight, “wow are you killing yourself by self-suffocation!? That’s so cool!”

That startled a laugh out of Virgil’s chest, then a few awkward coughs as his body readjusted to breathing again. He stared up at Remus awkwardly. “Nobody’s had a panic attack while sacrificing themselves to you before me?” He choked out.

Remus propped his hands up on his hips. “Not until you, stormy! You’re the first,” he said without a single sense of the weight of the words. For a fae, creature known for their odd but strict manners, he was wildly impolite.

Virgil couldn’t help but cringe with it, then awkwardly bark out a few laughs. “I can’t even kill myself right, can I?” He didn’t realize what he was saying until the words came out of his mouth, and then he closed said mouth tight.

The fae was giving him another one of those peculiar looks again before continuing to speak. “Man, is this meant to be your suicide? You’re like, really bad at that then because I have no plans to kill you!” The grin was strangely warm, now.

“Look, I- I’m gonna be basically dead by the end of this anyway. No old life to get back to,” he sighed quietly, before asking, like a slight plea, “can we get this over with, now? I don’t wanna spend longer here.”

The smile dripped off Remus’s face and Virgil felt oddly guilty. “Well, if you’re so impatient, then lets get this over with, stormcloud. You know what to do to stop it. Just give me your name.” The weight of the phrase was more than ever.

Suddenly, hearing the words - Virgil realized how badly he didn’t want to get it over with. Like a desperate idiot avoiding the death he handed himself, he stalled. “What, you don’t want this to end? You having fun chit-chatting here?” He said easy as you please, tilting his head to the side. The false confidence was familiar.

That startled a laugh out of Remus, who cackled so loud and shrill that Virgil could hear the birds flee. “Wow, seems like our little stormy has himself a sharp tongue. Wonder how long that will last you.”

“Long as it takes for you to get tired of me and cut it off,” Virgil hissed through his teeth, a sly grin on his face. It felt as natural as breathing, and just as fulfilling as it. Something that he knew from memory.

He realized the memory was of Roman.

Remus didn’t notice his realization of course and continued without a single hitch, “I wonder if it will be like a lizard tail, still wriggling and writhing after I cut it out of your wordy little mouth! I mean, I’m sure I can make that happen.”

Virgil faked a gag and turned his gaze up to Remus again, “you’re real disgusting y’know, for being a fae, a creature of manners and politeness, you’re real gross. How do you even get away with your wordy little mouth?” Virgil asked, half teasing and half genuine.

“Well, manners are oh so subjective,” Remus grinned, seemingly preening with delight at this fact, “and so, with just a little bit of squirming around through loopholes and the like - you really can get away with most things.” His satisfied grin seemed to light up the clearing.

Or maybe that was the sunrise, peaking over the horizon like an unwelcome guest. Remus turned his head back to stare at it. “Oops! Looks like your time is up, my dearest storm. No more stalling~.” He turned back to Virgil. “May I have your name?”

The words carried the weight of ten thousand stones.

Virgil knew what to do though, and he spoke his name, tearing it out of his throat and soul as the sun rose along with bile in his throat and as the moon fell along with his bloody heart. He whispered the first two words that would be in his obituary, “Virgilius Sentinel.”

A coldness wrapped around him, tight and binding. It was like a promise; a cruel, sickening promise, the type that edged on threat. His body shook, lungs wheezing through breaths that couldn’t make it all the way into him.

Even though he could still see Remus above him, staring down at him with that cruel grin and hands on his hips, he could feel his hands on his face, holding him still. They were as cold as he imagined, but not as painful.

Despite the terror, breaths slowly became easier as his body became more used to the feeling, the control, the vulnerability of it all. He adjusted to it, the world spinning around him as he learned to breath with smaller lungs. Maybe, this wouldn’t be as painful as he worried.

Right as he adjusted, though, there was a sudden burning in his chest and around his lungs. It was the kindest fire and the sweetest pain, and his lungs were aching as if he had managed to breath too much. It felt familiar; it felt like being held by warm and gentle hands. The fire chased off the cold.

As suddenly as the flame overtook him, it drew back. The feeling of being held turned to the feeling of being dropped, and the cold leapt back in as soon as the warmth left him. He shook just a little with the nauseating feelings. No matter the attempt at a fight, it was too weak.

Still, it left a small thought: something else had its own claim on him, separate from Remus’s. He silently reeled from that, but before he could think too hard he heard that barking shrilling laugh again and the world fell from under his feet.

#sanders sides #tss #ts sides #sasi #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #ts remus #ts logan #ts patton #tss fanfic #analoceits writing

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onebluebookworm · 1 year ago

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Ranking Books I Read in 2023 - 35-31

35. Maurice - E.M. Forster

Honestly, I didn't read any bad books this year. Just ones that weren't as good as I was anticipating. I'm not gonna deny this one is a trailblazing work and a classic of LGBT literature, but it's also hella boring and spends a lot of time on small details of English aristocracy life in the early 20th century. The love story is sweet and heartbreaking when we actually get to it, but for the most part, it's pretty stagnant.

34. Tuesdays With Morrie - Mitch Albom

My work's book club choice for February. I almost feel bad putting this up as high as it is, given this is about a real man who lived and died tragically, and this book obviously touched a lot of people, but it just didn't do anything for me. Maybe because I've never really been hep to the whole "old dying person gives sage life advice to the jaded young person" - especially something put out in the 90s where glurge like that was absolutely everywhere - but I was mostly just reading this to be done with it for the club. A few nice moments, and the scene of Morrie's death is pretty poignant, but I think the sparkle has officially come off.

33. Call Us What We Carry - Amanda Gorman

This is another one I feel bad I didn't like more. Amanda Gorman does have talent (the section inspired by Moby Dick was very interesting), but these mostly felt like first drafts. I've heard a lot of people describe this collection as kind of an expectation about she did the inaugural poem, and...yeah, it does indeed feel that way. I have no doubt Gorman will put out better stuff in the future as she hones the craft, but this wasn't it.

32. The Body Snatchers - Jack Finney

I found this years ago at a used bookstore, and it's part of the Stephen King's choice library (books that he thinks are some of the best horror fiction out there), so of course I had to give it a shot. While I do love the plot and some of the story beats are legitimately scary (when they first find the pod taking on a human form, I got actual chills), but it's mostly a lot of traveling from one place to another and back again, and it makes this very slim book feel like it takes forty years. I prefer a lot of the adaptations.

31. Forager: Field Notes for Surviving a Family Cult - Michelle Dowd

I've ingested a lot of cult content in my time. Learning about cult shit always gets me excited. So of course when I found this at work, I had to read it. And...it kind fumbled. The presentation is cool - Dowd's anecdotes are structured like field notes that talk about plants you can live on, while tying it back to a moment from her life - but the whole thing feels very disconnected and messy. We jump around a lot in her life, and big events are glossed over. A let-down.

#ranking books 2023 #maurice #em forster #tuesdays with morrie #mitch albom #call us what we carry #amanda gorman #the body snatchers #jack finney #forager #michelle dowd

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tinycoded360 · 1 year ago

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Cursed to a Foreign Land- Chapter 1

Author Note: So, while I work on finishing my other WIP/working on the next chapters to stuff, I decided to pull out a rough draft I had sitting in my draft folder. I wrote this when the game House of Ash came out. I just never got around to fixing it up and posting it. So this is a work of fanfiction about a borrower child that gets magically transported to Iraq. He is found by my favorite character, Salim. I broke up into smaller parts. You should be fine with reading this without any knowledge of the game. If there is mention of vampires, Zeddle will also be confused too. (He doesn't even know what a vampire is) I hope you enjoy it!

edit date 4/29/25

*****

"Zeddle, don't wander too far!" his mother's voice echoed from their hidden home.

"I won't, Mom!" he called back.

He was a responsible ten-year-old borrower boy, and today, like every day, he was helping his family gather supplies and caring for his two younger sisters, Flare and Varsha. His family lived in a big borrower colony deep in a lush forest. Zeddle had only heard stories of humans; he'd never seen the bigger counterpart. His home was hidden away from human civilization. Humans never ventured that deep into the wilderness. The only danger they had besides wild animals was the threat of a giant witch of the woods. It was said the witch looked like a human and was probably the reason that kept humans out.

Unfortunately, the Witch of the Woods had little love for the tiny people and would often curse them, or borrowers would go missing to never be seen again. Zeddle was always told to run and hide if he encountered this danger.

While foraging for food and materials for his parents and keeping an eye on his younger siblings, Zeddle felt the air around him go cold.

Suddenly, a twisted figure emerged from the shadows – the giant witch of the woods.

"Well, well, what have we here?" she crooned, her voice dripping with malice. "Ah, what a delicious morsel you are," she cackled, her voice like nails on a chalkboard. She towered over Zeddle.

Zeddle turns to his sisters.

"Run!" Zeddle shouted to his little sisters. The twins turned and booked it back home. Zeddle turned to distract the Witch from his sisters.

"Hey, down here, you ugly hag!"

The Witch sneered at him, waved a gnarled hand over him, and, with an evil grin, whispered, "Begone!"

Suddenly, everything went dark, and Zeddle felt his body being tossed through space. When he landed, he found himself dangling from strings tied to his limbs.

Zeddle's heart hammered in his tiny chest as the strings cut into his wrists and ankles. The hot desert sun beat down on him, leaving him sunburnt and parched. His mouse-skin shirt and pants felt way too warm for this weather. He had no idea where the witch had sent him.

Around him towered massive humans, their thunderous voices booming in a language he could not comprehend. Zeddle craned his neck, peering around the stall that held him captive. Rows of lifeless puppets surrounded him, their dead eyes and frozen smiles taunting him.

He had to get free before one of the giants noticed he was alive. Zeddle twisted his wrists, wincing as the strings dug deeper. It was no use. He was bound too tightly. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead as he watched the giants meander past.

Zeddle's mind raced. How would he get back home? Did his family even know he was missing? He thought of his little sisters, Flare and Varsha, and how frightened they must be. A lump formed in his throat.

Chapter 2

#my writing #giant tiny #giant #tiny #borrower #g/t #giant/tiny #fluff #g/t writing #g/t community #gentle giant #g/t writing community #Salim #house of ash #dark pictures #fanfictoin #game #video games #witch

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therockymarrow · 2 years ago

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Into the Mossley Gardens - General Layout

Hello, this is part 2 of the Into the Mossley Gardens 5e campaign I'm currently drafting up. It will go over sections of the gardens, and subcategorize the areas to then go more in-depth in later posts. Sorry this is such a weird way to format it. I'm kind of just going with how my brain works. When it's all completed I'll try assembling a pdf in a more book-ish layout.

See the main post here, or other sections listed at the bottom of the post.

First, let's start with a basic map of the garden, I'm drawing it in dungeon scrawl to start, but would like to replace it with an in-game, more fleshed out illustration to give my players at the table. I'll add it here if I ever have time to sketch it out. The areas will be numbered with their location on the map:

Here is a breakdown of each section of the Garden's. Feel free to play with the dimensions, and what you think should be there. For example - I don't really think every area needs to be so equally sized as it looks on the map. In hindsight I'd also like to add at least one building into the community garden's zone. I tried to consolidate what each area is, but you can click the name of each zone to further explore it as they become avaible.

Sections: 1. Main Gate - Just barely inside the main entrance to the gardens, this functions as the main walkway through the grounds and holds 2 statues of the properties previous owners - Vinoth and Juniper Mossley. These statues are not Stone Cursed, but feel free to add a spell like Magic Mouth to add spice or clarify lore. Such as the characters finding a code-phrase that will unlock information from the statues. Otherwise this area can act as a base-camp until characters further explore the grounds. They can also meet up with Hyacinth (see: NPCS) here, before he locks them in.

2. Front Garden/Exhibition Zone - To the right of the main path is a garden littered with various flowering plants, trees, and miscellaneous foliage. A simple-enough walking trail, statues look down at visitors from beside the path. Roll 1+1D4 to determine how many of these statues are Stone Cursed* (see: Combat Stats/Monsters). If you're characters are into herbology and want to forage from the plants, have them roll either a Nature or Survival check. 1-5: 1 plant that they think are safe to consume. 6-10: 3 plants that they think are safe. 11-15: 3 plants and they are sure of it's purpose. 16-20: 5 plants and they are sure of it's purpose. I would then use a table (like this or your own) to determine what plants they can identify. Have them roll a 1D4 for how much of each plant they able to collect. If I think of it maybe I'll draft one to put below.

3. Community Cultivation Center (Community Garden) - This are is a gated field, further divided by smaller fences. Each section contains a name plaque, as well as a list of the plants being grown there. Some plaques also contain a serial number pertaining to a filed experiment of the college's lab. Still others contain family's names, simply growing fruits, vegetables or patches of flowers. An off building sits on the far side of the field, large windows and a small greenhouse are attached to the old brick structure. Scarecrows are propped up idly along the gates and within the field, consider making one or two living scarecrows if you'd prefer an action oriented encounter here.

4. Oldtown Cemetery - As the name implies, this is one-of if not the oldest cemetery in the city of Mosswood. Not particularly large, it is full of old headstones, benches and wistful trees. a few small mausoleums are held here, as well as one of considerably larger size towards the back of the property.

5. Hedge Maze - A hedge maze designed simply for the fun of visitors to the gardens. Relatively easy to pass through, the other side holds an arena for students to practice their spell craft as well as give presentations for guests. 1D4 caged Cockatrice (or another creature of your preference) have gotten out of containment since the grounds were closed and now prowl this area.

6. The Mossley Estate - The estate proper. This large building casts a considerable shadow on the property. Built in a gothic style it is decorated in pointed archways, flying buttresses and sharp spires. Large cold looking stones make up it's body. The structure is an stable as it is imposing. Thin windows look out over the property like narrowed eyes gazing down at you. Players can feel a general sense of unease when examining at the building for to long.

7. The Atrium and Greenhouse - The newest structure to be added to the gardens, the atrium and greenhouse encapsulate the interior gardens. Similar to the front gardens this area contains paths stretching through it, with loops around various plants and displays. a pond is held at it's center. More tropical and seasonal plants can be found here than outside on the grounds. However, this is also where more dangerous plants are located. So if your players have wanted to fight a Needle Blight, Awakened Tree, Myconid, or even a Shambling Mound now is your chance. These creatures may have become present in the unsupervised gardens.

*Contains Homebrew elements. How I use them may not accurately reflect how they're intended in DND cannon.

Main Post │NPCs │Antagonist(s)│Combat Stats/Monsters │Loot

Find more quests/idea on my page here

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #dnd5e #dnd map

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void-shouting · 2 years ago

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writeblr intro !

about me !

hey y'all i'm kaci aka khak! i'm 27, they/them, & currently located in PA. i work full-time in live entertainment while attempting to write in my free time. i have a BS in mechanical engineering & an MFA in stage automation, & writing has served as a creative escape since i started writing way back in 2011

where to find me !

main tumblr (i follow back from here!), twitter, instagram, youtube

about my wips !

ok so i have a number of wips in various stages of development. as i start to talk more about these projects, their info will be updated below

project pm | status: backburner between edits (for my sanity) tag, playlist, pinterest genre: YA coming-of-age queer romance situation blurb: High school senior and newly minted basketball team captain Niall Daniels is on track to play D1 basketball at his parents' alma mater next fall. When a snap decision and an snapped Achilles tendon leave him sidelined, Niall is, against all odds, relieved. Now the pressure's on to whip the basketball team into shape and give them a fighting chance at a winning season. Along the way, Niall will have to grapple with foraging a path forward for himself that doesn't give him anxiety, prioritizing himself and what he wants, and finally learning to trust the music in his heart.

power in grace | status: drafting tag, playlist (coming soon!), pinterest genre: NA sapphic portal fantasy retelling of the epic of gilgamesh log line because i haven’t written a full blurb yet lol: In an initiation ceremony gone deadly, sorority president Sheli Kisher must work with the magical being she accidentally summoned to rescue a dead sorority sister’s soul from the Underworld.

project star | status: plotting/vibing tag, playlist, pinterest genre: NA sporty romance (feat. a dual timeline if i can make it work lol) blurb: NCAA hockey star and NHL prospect Silas Cross doesn't have anything against love. If anything, love doesn't like him. It doesn't like always coming second to hockey, and it doesn't like that he can always tell when girls are only into him for the promise of a big shot hockey career with a huge paycheck, and it doesn't like his sneaking suspicion that he's doomed to turn into his parents. (It also doesn't like the whole "keeping it publicly under wraps that he's a trans man until further notice" thing, but it'll have to get in line.)

Silas doesn't have crushes, and he doesn't go on dates, and he doesn't fall in love. But when he keeps finding himself face-to-face with a cheerleader with long long legs and a megawatt smile that makes all her game day stunts look as effortless as breathing, he starts to consider changing his tune.

project syn | status: vibing in the background tag, playlist (coming soon!), pinterest genre: college-leaning YA contemporary mystery blurb: Ivy Starling was eight years old when her older sister left home. For years she's trusted her mother's depiction of her former sibling despite its stark contrast to the two good memories of her sister that she clutches onto. After finding a collection of video diaries on her sister's old iPod Touch while packing for college that shed a new light on the day she left, Ivy sets off to find her estranged sister and discover the truth.

come say hi!!

#writeblr #writeblr intro #project pm #project star #project syn #project eog

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monster--boyfriend · 2 years ago

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@anthonypanics tagged me in this and then I promptly drafted it and forgot. But what's more tumblr than that? Also these things are just fun and feel like classic old school tumblr

were you named/named yourself after anyone?

I did in fact name myself and yes all three names were after someone or something. The first, Jasper, was after the Steven Universe character and no I don't regret that. She was and still is massively important to me as a character. My middle name, Aspen, I chose as well. I really wanted some kind of tree and after looking at a lot of symbolism behind various trees, the Aspen stuck with me. Of it's many different historical meanings, strength through diversity stuck with me the most. My last name, which I also changed, I took from my grandmother. It was her maiden name. I always admired it, always liked how it felt so much closer to what little culture I have, and so I took it. And as an extra little treat just for me, my initials spell Jam. Which I want so bad to be my nickname but no one has ever picked up on it.

when was the last time you cried?

I can't even remember? I think maybe it was last year? It happens so rarely now it's hard to remember. Medication is a magical thing

do you have kids?

No and I don't think I'll ever be able to parent any on my own. I would like to but I just don't think that I could possibly afford to care for any kid by myself. I'd need a partner who wanted to parent as well.

do you use sarcasm a lot?

I had to think about this because I actually think I'm slightly less sarcastic than I used to be. Like I'm still very sarcastic but I don't always default to it

what's the first thing you notice about people?

If we're not talking about like, visual aspects, then the first thing I almost always figure is if someone is some level of geek or nerd or the likes. I stand out enough visually that I will have people comment on my outfit very often in public. The way they comment tells me a lot about them in most cases. People who are some kind of nerd or even sort of in some kind of fandom, will likely recognize something on me and comment on it Or sometimes they will comment on something else and it can tell me that while they might not be fannish folk, they have similar political ideas as me. Or even inversely just the look I get from others tells me they find something if not everything about me distasteful.

what's your eye colour?

I'm sorry, I'm a blue eye haver

any special talents?

I have a fairly good sense of direction and learn the layout of places very quickly. I'm generally really good at not getting lost or if I do get lost, figuring out how to get unlost pretty easily.

scary movies or happy endings?

If I could only pic ONE I'd probably end up taking the scary movie. A lot of my favourite have been in the realm of horror lately so

where were you born?

Vancouver, BC. Lived here my whole life. Probably gonna die here too unless I somehow acquire a large amount of money. In which case I'll just move to Vancouver Island.

what are your hobbies?

I do be enjoying drawing again recently. But I also like sewing and I'm learning to embroider. I also love gardening and foraging. Cycling as well.

have any pets?

what sport do you play/have you played?

When I was in 4th grade? I think it was 4th, I played soccer at recess but that's about it. I wasn't in any organized sports. I was however briefly in gymnastics, dance, modelling, swimming, and I took piano lessons.

how tall are you?

I don't know, I think 5'5"? I'm not actually sure anymore.

dream job?

I don't even know. I don't think my body could do the kind of work I would find actually fulfilling and enjoyable now. But also some of that factory work on How It's Made looks good.

I'll tag @queerrbyrd @nebelung-dragon @umberisk @avoidingdestiny @cosmichorrorcocoa @mind-altering-bugs @minecraftgender @eispeon aaand that's all the mutuals I can remember off the top of my head but feel free to anyone do it and say I tagged you I'm tagging you in my mind

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xtruss · 2 months ago

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The Who’s Who of Beer Cool In 2025

The Country’s Top Brewers, Beer Writers and Buyers Weigh in on the 10 Breweries to Know Right Now.

— April 01, 2025 | Story: Courtney Iseman | Art: Punch

Craft beer moves too quickly to take your eye off of who’s doing what and why it matters for a second. After updating our list for the past two years, we’re back with a fresh crop of movers and shakers.

After so many premature predictions it became a running joke, it seems like we are finally in the age of the lager, and plenty of breweries are skewing their tap lists to celebrate all things traditional, easy-drinking and low ABV. That last quality is a general vibe as breweries prove that even today’s moderation-interested consumer can still enjoy full-flavored options. The shift from wide distribution to a more niche focus is still growing, and breweries are appealing to local-minded drinkers through house-grown and -foraged ingredients. The experience for consuming these beers matters, too. Eager to motivate people to get off of their couches and drink on-site, breweries are leaning into conversation-starting practices, from using Czech side-pull faucets to tapping English ales on cask.

To help compile this list of the breweries making waves in 2025, beer writers, podcasters, educators and brewers weighed in. Some of these breweries are brand-new, some of them are decades old, but all of them are leading the way on exciting changes in the beer landscape.

Alternate Ending Beer Co. | Aberdeen, New Jersey

Known For: A Range of Lagers Poured Traditionally on Side-Pull aucets

Can To Know: Pivovarský Bál 12° Plato Czech-Style Foeder Lager

It’s no longer enough to simply be “a lager brewery” to stand out. Founded by Scott Novick, Alternate Ending makes a name for itself with, yes, exceptional lagers, brewed by Brendan Arnold. But what sets Alternate apart is that its beers span the globe: a foedered Czech-style lager, a crisp German-style pilsner, an Iberian-style lager made with paella rice and saffron, a Mexican-style dark and a Thai rice version with basil. When Lukr, the Czech maker of side-pull faucets for foam-crowned lager pours, launched its first U.S. tour of the “Perfect Pour Academy” to train tapsters on using the faucets properly, Alternate Ending was one of the few breweries to get certified. Taproom guests can enjoy aroma-packed pours in the three traditional Czech styles: hladinka, šnyt and mlíko.

“When I heard Lukr was going to Alternate Ending, that put them on my radar and made me want to try their traditional-style lagers,” says Christa Sobier, owner of Brooklyn, New York, bottle shop and bar Beer Witch. “My brother and I even took a road trip out to the taproom and they know how to pour properly; it was a great experience.” Alternate Ending ticks a few more boxes on the list, with a unique taproom setting—it’s in an old movie theater, inspiring a subtle cinema theme for the brewery—and a lineup of excellently brewed hoppy beers, too.

Screenshot: CohesionBeer, Instagram

Cohesion Brewing Co. | Denver

Known For: Czech-Style Lagers, Brewed and Served Traditionally

Draft To Know: Cohesion 10° Czech-Style Pale Lager

Try to bring up notable lager breweries in 2025 without mentioning Cohesion Brewing Co. and any beer connoisseurs in your presence will correct you. It has the good fortune of existing in Denver: Each fall, many in the craft beer community descend upon the city for the Great American Beer Festival, and afterward return to their cities singing praises of breweries there. And Cohesion has beguiled even the most discerning industry veterans with a devotion to nuanced Czech-style lagers, also served with care on Lukrs.

“Cohesion is one of the coolest, [most] on-trend breweries in America today,” says beer writer and podcaster Don Tse. “[They use] local ingredients, partnering with a local maltster to have a custom-made malt that works well with the authentic, Old World decoction mashing technique. Cohesion also uses open fermenters, horizontal conditioning tanks fitted with spunding valves that carbonate the beer naturally and, in the taproom, keeps the glasses in a temperature-controlled water bath and serves the beer through genuine side-pull taps.”

Is/Was Brewing | Chicago

Known For: Saisons, Often Made with Uncommon Ingredients

Bottle To Know: Spandrel, A Saison With Aged Hops, Raw Spelt and Brettanomyces

Is/Was is another resounding vote for specialization in craft brewing—and, like Continental lagers, also provides a repertoire skewing low in alcohol—but founder Mike Schallau has committed to an even narrower niche.

“[Is/Was] appears to be making strictly Belgian-inspired, sessionable beers work as their whole ethos,” says beverage alcohol reporter and editor Kate Bernot. “Kudos to them, in the year of our lord 2025.” The brewery opened its taproom in October 2024, concentrating primarily on Belgian- and French-style saisons. It’s a fairly rare style in contemporary American craft beer, but Schallau is building a reputation strong enough that the die-hard saison fans know where they’ll find a gold mine of options, and others can build an appreciation for these farmhouse ales. Helping with that, Bernot adds, are the unconventional ingredients he uses in these beers, like agave hearts, sourdough bread and bison grass.

Milieu Fermentation | Aurora, Colorado

Known For: A Diverse Lineup of IPAs, Pastry Stouts, Scottish and English Ales, and Hard Tea

Can Ko Know: Be Dope Hazy IPA

On the opposite end of the spectrum from narrowing focus, another approach to success as a craft brewery in 2025 is diversifying. It’s one that Milieu Fermentation is employing well. Andrew Bergeron and Rob Bessett worked for Ursula Brewing before taking over the space and establishing Milieu. They’re miraculously making something for everyone—and doing all of it well.

“In 2025, nobody making great beer in Denver/Aurora will go under the radar, so choosing ‘Fermentation’ instead of ‘Brewing’ in the name was a really good decision,” says beer writer and brewer Ryan Pachmayer. “It signals to fermentation-curious folks that there’s more than just beer there. The beer connoisseurs will come either way.” Those beer drinkers will find juicy hazies, bitter West Coasts, a Thai banana stout and hard-to-find gems like Scottish ale, English pub ale, Baltic porter and table beer—but Milieu’s hard tea and the potential for experimentation in more categories will keep the company relevant for a wide audience.

Screenshots! HotPlateBrewingCo, Instagram

Hot Plate Brewing Co. | Pittsfield, Massachusetts

Known For: Belgian-Style Ales, Lagers and Stouts

Can To Know: Capable of Anything Chamomile Blonde Ale

Drawing on her former career in media research and consumer insights, Sarah Real analyzed data to get a grasp on consumer behavior before co-founding Hot Plate with husband Mike Dell’Aquila. That planning paid off—in 2024, the brewery’s first year of business, they made USA Today’s “10 Best” list for best new brewery, and have made beers in collaboration with marquee names like Patton Oswalt and Ben Folds. Real takes trendy styles like crisp lagers and complex farmhouse ales and pushes them forward with botanicals and spices.

“All of the beers I’ve had from [Hot Plate] have been approachable and well-made while still being interesting and creative, which is a great combination,” says Anne Becerra, a beer consultant, educator and writer, calling the chamomile blonde in particular subtle and elegant.

Brown Girl’s Brew | New York City

Known For: Classic Styles Inspired By Bakery Favorites

Can To Know: Carrot Cake Style Amber Ale

The craft beer industry has notoriously done a pretty poor job of welcoming people of color even as consumers, let alone brewers, let alone brewery founders. The arrival of Brown Girl’s Brew and founder Christina Thomas is both refreshing and important for the representation and visibility the brand fosters. The new operation—already available at a number of bars, restaurants and grocery stores in the New York City area, as well as Total Wine & More for online sales—has become known for its evocative flavors. Thomas pays homage to her mother, who owned a bakery in Chicago, with a carrot cake amber ale, Key lime pie ale, lemon pound cake lager, banana pudding hefeweizen and German chocolate cake stout. For today’s flavor-driven consumer, Brown Girl’s Brew stands to do well and subsequently have a positive impact on the industry’s diversity.

Sierra Nevada Brewing Co. | Chico, California, and Mills River, North Carolina

Known For: A Pioneering Pale Ale and a Contemporary Lineup of IPAs

Can To Know: Celebration Fresh Hop IPA

Even casual beer drinkers are aware of Sierra Nevada’s role in shaping craft beer as we know it. Founded by Ken Grossman in 1980, this brewery helped ignite American thirst for hops with a pale ale many still consider a go-to. It laid the groundwork for fresh-hop IPAs with Celebration and set the gold standard in styles like barleywine and brown ale. Throughout the years, Grossman has developed methods for creating ever-hoppier but still balanced beers that have been adopted industrywide. That history is all well and good, but why is the company a brewery to know in 2025?

Sierra Nevada proves nimble and forward-thinking—honoring its history without being precious about it. A few years back, the brewery established its Little Thing sub-brand that speaks to a whole new generation of beer drinkers with hoppy, juicy and even tropical hazies. Sierra Nevada also meets today’s consumer demands with well-executed nonalcoholic beers, embraces a local emphasis by brewing estate beers with ingredients grown on-site and leads the industry in sustainable practices.

Scratch Brewing Co. | Ava, Illinois

Known For: Ales Made with Ingredients Foraged and Grown On-Site

Bottle To Know: Wild Carrot & Nettle Light Golden Farmhouse Ale

Opened in 2013 by Marika Josephson and Aaron Kleidon, Scratch has not only epitomized the “brewery as local fixture” while others have chased endless growth, but they also have taken the local thing about 10 steps further.

“[Josephson and Kleidon] forage herbs, flowers, nuts, tree bark, dead leaves, mushrooms and just about anything else edible they can find from their rural property to create beers that can’t exist anywhere else,” says beer writer and educator David Nilsen. “It’s not a model most breweries can follow... which is kind of the point.” A fennel stout, an elderflower saison, a sour brewed with toasted hickory bark—these beers entice beer lovers as well as a growing number of people interested in hyperlocal creations and culinary tie-ins. Kleidon and Josephson even co-authored (with Ryan Tockstein) The Homebrewer’s Almanac, an oft-cited reference on brewing with grown, gathered and foraged plants.

Marlowe Artisanal Ales | Mamaroneck, New York

Known For: Sessionable Hoppy Ales and Lagers

Can To Know: Eager to Share American pale ale

In-the-know beer fans already had an eye on Zac Ross, who had brewed at Kent Falls Brewing Co. and The Answer Brewpub, when he landed at Twelve Percent Beer Project. While brewing for some of the most hyped hazy IPA and pastry stout brands through Twelve Percent, Ross quietly launched Marlowe, named for his late grandfather. He wanted to get more low-ABV but still full-flavored options circulating, and beers like his Eager to Share pale ale, with dreamy art by fellow Twelve Percent brewer Carla Waclawski, quickly drew notice. After many challenges finding a space of their own, Ross and co-owner Waclawski have settled Marlowe into a Westchester taproom.

“I don’t think Zac’s intent was to brew an array of beers, as much as he wants to brew approachable and sessionable beers,” says beer writer Kevin Kain. “It just so happens that whatever style he brews, he does a pretty damn good job, and his customers respond well.” Kain describes the Marlowe taproom as having more of a pub feel, with conversations between Ross and guests often breaking out over cask pours of English ales or side-pull German lagers.

Funkytown Brewery | Chicago

Known For: Well-Balanced Pale Ales

Can To Know: Hip-Hops and R&Brew American Pale Ale with Prange Zest

After launching its lineup out of brewery incubator Pilot Project in 2021, Funkytown appeared in our 2023 roundup based on two momentous years of growing distribution; brewing excellent pale ales, amber ales and witbiers; winning awards; and building a vital bridge to underserved consumers, particularly people of color, in the craft beer space. Funkytown returns to our list as founders Richard Bloomfield, Zachary Day and Gregory Williams are planning to open a taproom in 2025. The trio is currently fundraising in order to establish a space on Chicago’s West Side, where their enthusiastic fans will be able to enjoy the brewery’s fruity Belgian-style pale ale, tropical mango pale ale and caramel-flavored Irish red. With four years under its belt, the brewery has hit its stride and made a name, and it will be exciting to watch what kind of space they create, how their beers evolve and what kind of events take shape.

#Beer 🍺#Cool 😎 Beer 🍻#Country’s Top Brewers #Beer Writers ✍️✍️#Buyers #10 Breweries #Art: Punch #Courtney Iseman #PunchDrink.Com #New Jersey #Denver #Chicago #Aurora | Colorado #Pittsfield | Massachusetts #New York City #Chico | California #Mills River | North Carolina #Ava | Illinois #Mamaroneck | New York

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bh-writingdump · 10 months ago

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C@ve Sl@ve

Harpy v Trap

[1st draft]

Another frigid breeze races over the hills. It shoots across your legs, sending a shiver up your spine. You shudder, thankful at least for the jacket as you pull up the fuzzy hood. Meanwhile, the oversized rat sniffs out the area ahead for a third time.

After the first bear trap, sure, it made sense but this was getting old. All the traps were so obvious! Anyone would notice them! Plus, the crossword wasn’t even that hard.

You crouch down in your oversize jacket so it covers your legs. It made you feel like a flea market garden gnome.

“Can we move already? It’s too exposed out here.” You envision people descending from above but get nowhere sighing, you ignore the wolf’s vision of remaining on your stump. You cross from the “safe” patch of earth to the new. Thick leaf litter crunches beneath your shoes as you brush ferns aside with a stick.

A new blister pops in your shoe. You grumble, favoring your right. You get a couple feet before wolf races up to you. Banking until you tumble over. A net trap, springs up, tossing what would’ve been you far into the sky before snapping you against a thick tree branch.

So shook, you barely move when wolf picks you up by the hood, careful not to let your feet drack until you were on “safe” ground. Your dropped on the log.

You brush them off, trying to get a better look at whatever is lining the rope. “Did they seriously??? Nails? And glass. Who does that?! I’d already have been dead.”

They knock you to the ground, biting your shoulder, you cry out. In a instant, you’re begging for them to release you. They do but only once your pleading turns into a whimper. Then he lets up.

It wasn’t hard enough to do more than holes in your jacket, didn’t have to be, you’d played this game before.

You try to get up only to be knocked over again. They growl, ready to bite. You whine preemptively which seems to pacify him.

The wolf return scouting out the paths, only looking to you if they wanted you to move forward. Anytime you get shoved into the ground. They don’t even need to nip you. By the fourth time you fall on your ass on your own.

“See? No hands, boss. You shake your hands and feet in the air.

The wolf huffs, stepping to the side only to get a net snapped over their snout. It gets stuck in their teeth, making them snort and thrash widly. Even their paws can’t manage to get it off.

You burst into laughter. “Damn, who thought you’d be the next greatest catch?”

The wolf snarls at you but any bit it had was lost on improvised muzzle. “Don’t worry, bet the harpies will make a good boy out of you yet. You taunt, standing up. You send a vision of them fetching and sitting obediently for a pack of harpy treats.

Next thing you know, nothing comes. You stare back at Wolf who’s still struggling to get it off. “Ugh, really? It’s not like that hard.” As you approach, you notice there’s barbs in the rope that scowers the wolf’s face, sending little rivulets of blood down.

“Jesus, you really got your work cut out for you. Stay still.” You try to cut but they’re throwing their head so widely knocking you on your ass.

In a growly voice, you bark. “I said STAY DOWN!” You grab them by the snout hole and yank them down. It’s enough to earn a near bite. “AY! AY! HEEL!” You hold steady, waiting patiently for them like they do for you each time they clean your cunt. It takes a while of growling but eventually they drop their snout, letting you cut through the ropes.

This time, when they need you to hang back, they give you a warning growl until you sit back.

“Are you sure this is good way to this temple?” You muse to yourself. “It’s not like they covered the whole mountain with this, right?”

The wolf snorts and for a second, you wonder if they understood you but then they sneezed so yeah, maybe not. As the areas clear, you forage for food where you can. Unlike Sans, the wolf showed you how to dig for tubers, find the best berries, shuck pine nuts and the like. It takes a couple hours but you eventually find enough to call it lunch.

While searching a nearby bush for berries, your mind distracted by how a bush could have berries in spring only to be distracted by a cry from the wolf’s direction. Their foot caught in a trap. Great. You sigh, marching over to undo the steel trap with a press of your foot only to hear the snapping of branches. You look up just in time for a massive log to bow into the wolf’s side, plowing them into a tree with a sickening crack. Their body goes limp and doesn’t get up by the time you rush over.

Your heart skips a beat as you clamber over logs and around thorn bushes only to hear another crack of branches. You barely catch the log swinging toward you. Next thing you know a big blue blur slams into you, knocking the air out of you, depositing you high up on a branch. You cling to the thing, gasping, looking down as vertigo hits you being so far off the ground. You burry your face into the soft feathers… feathers.

“Of all the traps they had to set, it had to be the log pin. I told them not once, not twice that those could DUST someone. Unlike a good axe, at least they can heal from those. Whose healing if they’re dust? Nobody, that’s who!” They look down as if just now noticing you. “Oh dear, I entirely forgot to check up on you. Any breaks or scrapes?”

You stare up at them, their gigantic wingspan easily cocooning them in place against you.

“Oh no, you must be concussed! Never fear, I have a candy that will work in a pinch. Let me see…” they pick around their satchel before yanking up a sky-blue orb. “Open up!”

They shift their wings, helping you lean against the trunk. Your heart flutters as you teeter close to falling off the branch, you gasp, clutching onto them.

Next thing you know, their mouth’s pressed up against yours, so stunned, you barely have time to shove out the tart candy that bursts hitting your tongue into a sweet paste that dissolves by the time the harpy breaks the kiss.

“How do you feel?”

You blink, the pain in your feet and back gone. “I’ll cause indigestion.” You murmur. Your body too tense to raise your voice any further.

“Good to know.” They boop your forehead with theirs. “But enough of that, the Great Jay must get you to safety.”

“What? No, I’m going down.” You say while clinging to the tree trunk for dear life.

“Nonsense, your mate’s in no state to take care of you. Look at them.” Blue Jay lets you have a look down. the vertigo alone nearly makes you puke where you see Wolf chasing after a harpy, bones erupting from ground, slashing one while another wolf bites in half.

“Chartreuse!” Blue Jay darts at Wolf, clawing at his eyes until he follows Blue Jay over a nearby hill. The smaller harpy, covered in blood eyes you. You stiffen, halfway up a tree, there’s no way you’d jump and be able to make it. Much less the idea makes you think you’ll faint before you do.

“WOLF! I’M HERE!” You cry out.

Wolf bursts back through the underbrush. Just as the harpy flies at you, bites it out of thin air, a puff of dust hangs in the air where the harpy once was. Wolf circles the tree, pushing at it, making it shake.

“Wait! Wolf! Don’t!”

Their teeth cleave straight through the tree.

It falls. The impact throws you off, rolling into a pile. “Wolf, you stupid piece of shit!”

Eyes light engorged as they growl, stalking toward you. You stomp toward him, yelling obscenities. But he doesn’t register them. Growl doesn’t even change, does he see you.

Have his eye lights ever been that wide?

You take a step back, suddenly unsure.

You try but something digs into your shoulders. You scream as your yanked off the ground. Wolf leaps into the air, their claws missing you by inches. They bite at your heels until your well above the canopy.

“Brother!” Blue Jay Shouts. You wrench your eyes shut. The vertigo enough to fill your mouth with upchuck. It’s then you feel yourself slipping.

You scream. “Don’t drop me!”

You fall, watching the canopy rush up. You drop through a layer of branches before another body slams into yours, yanking you up again, more claws digging into your shoulder blades.

“Put me down! Put me down! Please.” You cling to the harpy’s claws. “I’ll do anything! just put me down.”

“s’ okay, hun, were talking you down.” Blue Jay takes one wrist while Ham shifts to the other. Each adjustment of claws a new cut. Warmth spills over you. You try not to think about it. With your eyes closed, you can almost pretend you took a bad fall.

Distantly, you hear a wolf’s howl.

“Make it quick, bro.”

Blue Jay guides you back into the cave. Your body still feels like its flying. Your set in a pile of moss and leaves. It smells fowl like wolf’s magic. Blue Jay shoves you into it, rolling through the musk and bits of dried saliva despite your protestations. You try to shove him away.

“Don’t worry. Soon as your smelly as your mate, he’ll have no choice but to accept you back into his pack.”

His pack? Do they think Wolf is Red again?

Those deranged eyes didn’t look like the Wolf you knew. “Wait-wait, you can’t leave me here.”

“It’d be easier if we took zem.” Ham mutters.

You glare at him. “exactly!”

“Not like he’s been feeding zem.”

“Never mind! I’ll make my own way.”

“Gotta be someone’s, might as well not a psychopaths—”

“Ham! Red got hit in the head. You’d be confused if you were on instinct too.” Blue Jay sighs, “Sorry about my brother. He can be very… sensitive. I’ve known Red for quite a while and I’m 99% sure he’ll recognize you.”

“time to split, bro.” Ham eyes you almost hopefully.

You move to leave the cave, avoiding Ham and Blue only for Blue’s wing to block you. “This is the safest place for you, I promise.”

You gravity tug you to the ground. Ham nudge’s Blue to go. You can hear Wolf’s growl.

All of a sudden, the weight’s gone and Ham and Blue dart into the sky. You rush out only to see Wolf at the end of the clearing.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You rush up the hill, up over the cave. If you’re smart about it, there’s a smaller narrower cave that Wolf won’t be able to get into. With a little luck, you’ll find a way out of this.

The crush of branches and thrash of trees comes from behind you. Your arms burn, legs coming up short too. You barely make it to the smaller caves, getting part way into one before your slammed into a nearby tree.

Not on my watch.

You stumble to your feet. Growling as deeply as you can. You stand where you are, too weak to move without falling.

Wolf pauses, growling inches from you only to knock you over.

A paw lands on your face, putting pressure down. You can’t muster more energy than a whimper.

You freeze feeling them sniff along your back, your ass, legs.

They sneeze.

What little strength you had is taken over by terror. You can’t even breathe, feeling the world going sharp and narrow and patchy.

A tongue rides along your head. you tense, ready to be eaten only for them to keep licking. You turn slightly only to get a face full of tongue. You spit and try to shield your face in the earth against the onslaught.

By the time you’re a slobbering mess, they pick you up in their jaws, carting you back before tucking you beneath them again. trying to lick your face again. you shield most of it with your arms but some gets through.

The connection between your souls flow open all of a sudden. Relief along with a dozen other emotions you can’t identify comes through. So strong fuzzy feeling in your head that you pas out.

[CS] Harpy v Trap [2] pg --->

#c@ve sl@ve #cs1.2

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nwbeerguide · 2 years ago

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Ferment Brewing announces new fall seasonals including a Porter & ESB along with a new event space.

Press Release October 24, 2023. Hood River, OR — Hood River’s acclaimed waterfront brewery, Ferment Brewing, today announces the seasonal release of Woodsmen Porter and ESB to signal the changing season in the small mountain town. Previously available in 500ml bottles, both beers now make their seasonal 16oz can debuts. The beers arrive just as Ferment opens a new event space, perfect for booking winter and holiday parties. Ferment’s new event space called The Beer Hall, great for gatherings large and small, boasts large windows facing the Columbia River, a cozy atmosphere, custom selection of draft beers, and menu offerings featuring party platters and family style rotisserie chicken dinners curated by the restaurant’s talented chefs. Bookings are now available; reservations can be made through the brewery's website at fermentbrewing.com Brewed with malts from England, Belgium, Germany, and Chile, the rich malt of the 5.6% ABV Woodsmen Porter is paired with earthy hops. For an extra touch of place, Ferment added Doug Fir tips, which were foraged at the base of Mt. Hood in late Spring, adding a subtle old growth forest character to the dark beer. Ferment ESB embodies the quintessential English-style ale, Extra Special Bitter. Almost paradoxically complex and full of rich wholegrain toast flavors, a can of the copper-colored beer sports a soft fruity ester, an easy drinking balance, and a modest alcohol content at 5.4%. Both beers are available in digitally printed, recyclable cans and on draft throughout Ferment’s distribution footprint in Oregon and Washington. About Ferment Brewing Ferment Brewing Co. opened in 2018 as a 20-barrel brewery and tasting room overlooking the Columbia River in Hood River, Oregon. Born out of an appreciation for the art of fermentation, the company prides itself in providing a modern brewery and tasting room experience that fuses traditional farmhouse techniques with a forward-thinking scientific approach. Ferment offers a unique family of beers and kombucha that tap the wild terrain of the Columbia River Gorge for inspiration. For more information, visit https://www.fermentbrewing.com/ from Northwest Beer Guide - News - The Northwest Beer Guide https://bit.ly/3tMnuAi

#Craft Beer #Beer #News

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ravenofthefandoms · 2 years ago

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The Path of the Bear

Word Count: 2690 (nice)

Pairing: Leofric x Reader

Characters: Leofric of Wessex, Uthred Ragnarson/Uthred of Bebbanburg (brief), Mildreth (brief), Iseult (mentioned), King Peredur (mentioned)

A/N: First TLK post! They gave us a sassy, badass warrior that is absurdly large and slightly too old for me and since that’s exactly my type, I had to write about him. I want to make this a series as well, but I’m gonna start my Beric request after this and then my modern!Aemond fic/series to be hopefully. Also also, there’s a Grenn x reader sitting in my drafts rn. FYI, in this one I use italics for thoughts, which is new for me, so tell me if you like it! Also, I mention Grian who is, according to my five minute on Google, a Celtic/pre-Christian goddess of the sun, and specifically the winter sun. Since reader is Iseult’s sister in this, I imagine she would be a pagan, just not a Danish one.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned. They belong to Bernard Cornwell and the producers of The Last Kingdom. I do not own any gifs used. They belong to their original creators.

The farmstead you had been camping near for the past few weeks was quiet. There was only one man who you ever saw near the house, and sometimes a woman was with him. Workers tended the fields and took care of the animals nearby, but they were always too busy with their daily chores to notice. You did not necessarily need to hide yourself well, typically just spending your days in the woods foraging or hunting if you could and your nights sleeping in the barn on the grounds. Once the workers all left for home after their day, the farmstead was empty save for the animals you roomed with.

It was not luxury and it was nothing like the life you grew up with. The life you had up until two months ago almost felt like a sweet dream. There was much of it you missed, like your sister and a day filled with nothing but chores and gossip. Then your sister left, married off to some king in Cornwalum for her skills as a gwarch. A mother’s gift, as your own mother called it. Something she inherited from her mother, who received it from her mother, and so on. Only you did not receive it. Your older sister, Iseult, did and she was quite powerful. Her bride price was very valuable, more valuable than you could have ever dreamed of bringing to your family. That did not stop your father’s efforts. It took two more years for him to find someone who would pay a good bride price for you. The day he told you that he found you a husband was the day you ran.

The bleating of the ewe drew you from your thoughts. A small smile formed on your lips as she stared at you, annoyed that you were laying in one of her favorite spots. You could not blame her. The hay was a nest, keeping you comfortable. “I can make room for you, but I will not move.”

Scooting over, you grinned and patted the ground next to you, as though she could understand your jest. Instead, the ewe seemed to glare at you before settling down in another little nest on the other side. Shaking your head, you settled back down into your little nest of hay before closing your eyes and drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

—

You awoke early, as you have done everyday since you started sleeping in the barn. The workers woke early too, so you needed to leave the barn before any discovered you in your attempts to hold the sheep.

The trek back into the forest was quick, your surroundings becoming easier for you to manuever. Your first stop was the brook that ran through the country side. The cold water helped to pull you from the last of your sleep, waking you completely. You wanted to bathe soon, but you had not followed the brook far enough to find a spot deep enough. Instead, you began to forage for food, checking the traps you had set, smiling to yourself when two of your traps had successfully captured two rabbits. Two was too much to eat for just one meal but it would be just fine if you cooked them both now. Starting a fire later would not be smart, the workers on their way home would be more likely to see it.

—

Night begins to fall, watching from a ridge as workers began to go home. Once they were all gone, you snuck your way into the barn quickly, the final rays of sunlight twinkling through the trees. The sheep and the cows were in their stalls, along with a few new horses. You looked through a crack in the wall towards the hut. There was light coming from the house, but you did not worry. Surely it was just the lord and his wife who lived here.

It was easy to shrug it off as you made your way to a spot towards the back of the barn, where you could watch the doors with ease. As you tore into your rabbit, your mind drifted back to the last days you had with your sister.

You had wept as your elder sister held you, learning that she was leaving soon, and you were not prepared for the separation. Though you were 18 years old at the time, she was the only one who took care of you, loved you. She was always so gentle with you and always understanding. When her gifts came to her, she became your family’s jewel. Your parents preened over her constantly, your mother nurturing your sister’s gift. The work paid off and your sister’s abilities were soon sought after. It was a long time before they were sold. During that time, your sister taught you what she could, more about healing and herbs than seeing. When she did go into the woods to see, you went with her. Silence was kept between you, but you helped her as much as you could.

The last thing she said to you will always ring through your ears. “We will meet again, sweet sister.” She tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “But you cannot marry, not who father chooses. You simply need follow the bear. He will bring you back to me.” You nodded through your sniffles, holding onto her as tightly as you could. Moonlight shone on the two of you, raven hair shimmering beneath it.

Two years later and you still had not found the bear that was meant to lead you. Though you were also not entirely sure how a bear would take you to your sister. Nonetheless, you trusted her sight and would be ready to follow.

The creak of the barndoor snapped you from your reverie. A tall shadow appeared and you cursed, scrambling to a stall. The resting cow looked up at you, lowing as you approached in a crouch. You held your breath, drawing the dagger that you had tied to your waist. “Who’s in here?” A deep voice called, the signature hiss of a sword drawn from its sheath following, “I saw you. Come back out.” You cursed again before swinging out again, taking a low stance with your blade.

The man was much closer than you expected, with a torch sitting in a sconce between you. The flickering light revealed the scarred, though quite handsome, face of a very tall man. “What are you doing here?” His blade was level, though he did not appear to be very worried.

“Sleeping. The sheep make good company.” He scoffed at your answer. “What are you doing here?” You straightened slightly from your stance, trying to relax the tension. It was quite obvious to you that this bear of a man would have no trouble disarming you, let alone killing you. But there was still a chance you could talk your way out of it.

“The same, by invitation of the lord of this farmstead. Don’t think I can say the same for you,” he stated. You answered only with a shrug. “If I put away my blade, you will as well.” It was not a question, but you nodded your agreement anyways. He began to sheath his sword and you rose, putting your own blade away. “Been here long? Seem to know the locals quite well.” He nodded to the barn animals who had returned to their resting.

Another shrug from you. “A few months. They cried when I tried to leave.” He chuckled at that, looking you up and down.

“What’s your name?” You turned to look at the ground where the rest of your rabbit laid, tossed in your panic to hide. A beat of silence as you picked it up, brushing the hay and dirt from it before taking another bite.

“So many questions. I thought Saxons were supposed to be Christians and gentlemen.” You held out the rabbit to him, a peace offering. Despite having already eaten himself, he accepted.

“I’m deciding if I should tell the lord that you are here. He is not happy, and I do not think you would wish to cross paths with him this night.” There was a small twinkle of mirth in his eyes despite the serious sound of his words.

“(Y/N). Of Cornwalum. You?” He raised a brow. A Briton was not something he had expected to see in Liscumb but here you stood.

“Leofric of Wessex. Can’t save I’ve met a Briton before.” He tossed the rabbit back to you before moving to sit in what looked to be a decently comfortable pile of hay. “How’d you get out here?”

You finished the last bit of rabbit before tossing it into one of the back corners of the barn. “I walked, mostly. Ran a little bit. Even got to ride a horse for a while. Though the horse and the running were on the same day.” He chuckled at the mischievous grin on your face. “What is a warrior of Wessex doing sleeping in his lord’s barn?”

Leofric’s eyes followed you as you paced slowly, more out of boredom than nerves. He couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to. Here you were, silver-tongued and beautiful, with full hips that were hugged by the pants you wore and alluring eyes that seemed to call to him from the very depths of his soul. For a man like Leofric, you were a sight to feast on. Though a God-fearing man, the ancient and arcane feeling that washed through him when he met your eyes had him questioning. “It’s my lord’s wedding night.” He smirked at you slightly. “I cannot say that I wish to be privy to it.” His eyes flicked back up after their southward expansion when you stopped, sights locking on each other. There was a beat of pregnant pause.

“Then do not worry, Leofric of Wessex. You shall have a silent night to rest.” A twinkle mirroring his own caused the great warrior’s heart to falter a moment. Though not entirely unfamiliar, the stutter was not something he had felt in quite a long time. With a final small smirk gracing your lips, you slipped into one of the nearby stalls where you were met with a small bleat of an ewe. “I told you, they missed me.” A soft chuckle was met to that.

“If you are to hold the sheep for warmth, then whom should I?” His flirtatious words made you grin, though he could not see it.

You responded without missing a beat. “The cow seemed lonely.” He gave another bark of laughter at this, and you couldn’t help the small laugh you let out. Laying down, you made yourself cozy in the bed of hay. Snow was falling that night, and a freezing wind blew through the cracks of the barn. A shiver ran through your body as you tucked your knees into your chest, another attempt to keep the warm in. After a while of silence, you were able to finally fall into blissful sleep.

—

Grian emerged from her slumber and the early rays of her light began to illuminate the sky. Your eyes fluttered open with a yawn following quickly. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes before rising quietly. Soft snores carried from the other side of the barn, affirming that the man from last night, Leofric, was still in the barn though sound asleep. With a final stretch, you stood and made your way out of the stall. Leofric leaned against the wall in the same place as last night, his head fallen to the side in his slumber. A soft giggle escaped your lips as you looked down at him. Such soft and small noises from a man so big were nothing short of amusing.

Quickly and quietly, you slipped from the barn. The gray dawn of morning held the chill of the long winter night. Soon, you were free, traipsing through the woods as you began your day.

—

It wasn’t long after you left before Leofric woke. In fact, the soft knock of the barndoor closing was what roused him. It took a moment for him to truly wake, but when he did, he shot to his feet. Leofric took a few partially stumbling steps towards the door before yanking it open. To his dismay, you had disappeared before he could call out your name. The slight ache in his heart had nothing to do, he told himself, with the fact that you left before saying goodbye or anything else.

With a sigh, he shut the barndoor again and leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes as he waited for the fog within his head to abate. One breath, two and then he righted himself. She would have been a good hump, he thought to himself almost forlornly. Deciding to give no further thought to it, he exited the barn and started for the hut where he hoped to find something to break his fast.

—

The day passed as any other, Grian warming the sky as much as she could. Her journey across the sky was unmarked yet unchanged, descending the same as it had ascended. As night fell, Leofric thanked Mildreth for the dinner in his hands, ready to make his quick escape to the barn. Pale dusk began to settle outside and, standing in the doorway, he could’ve sworn he saw a figure disappear near the barn. The air in the room was a bit… tense between Mildreth and Uhtred, but not in the way they had been when he yelled at her the day before. This was the tenseness of a wedding night, and Leofric had no intentions to find out if he was right.

“You do not wish to sleep in the house, Leofric?” Mildreth inquired politely.

“No, lady. The sheep will be missing me.” Uhtred snorted with laughter, eying his friend mischeivously.

“Taking extra with you tonight, Leofric?” There was a gleam in Uthred’s gaze that reminded Leofric of why he had wanted to knock a tooth or two out of the arseling’s gleeful smile when they first met. “Worked extra hard today, I hope.”

Leofric glared at the arseling, tilting his head at the playful challenge. “Aye lord, I did. So hard, in fact, that I think I deserve this as well.” The taller man grabbed the horn of ale from Uthred’s hands before taking a long swig. “Well, I’ll bid you good night lady, arseling.” He gave them a curt nod before making his way to the barn.

Opening the door, he was pleasantly surprised to see you sitting across from where he had slept. “Missed the sheep?” he questioned teasingly.

“Aye. The one in the back, I’ve decided to call her Veldicca. She has been too great of company for anything else.” You were lying, of course. What you should have done was find somewhere else, gone anywhere else, but you didn’t. You came right back to this barn, and the reason for your return was now sitting across from you.

Leofric chuckled as he stretched out his long legs in front of him. Grabbing one of the extra chunks of bread that he had taken at dinner, he tossed it to you. “Have you been thinking of me, Leofric of Wessex?” A shiver ran down his spine at the teasing tone of your voice.

“Not at all.” Lie. You have haunted my thoughts all day. “I was extra hungry tonight, but I will be a gentleman and share my food with the lovely lady.” He gave you a small wink, which only made you return it with a small smirk.

You opened your mouth for a retort when the barndoor opened. Startled, the both of you jumped to your feet, hands flying to the pommels of weapons. “Leofric, I wanted to tell yo-...” Uthred stood in the doorframe, his words faltering mid-sentence when his eyes landed on you. A confused and somewhat concerned look graced his features, eyes flicking between you and Leofric. “Who is this?”

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