#hero and nutmeg

[ahedderick]

Currently looking forward to spring very much. Not sure if anybody will be stotting or pronking this year, but we'll give it our best shot.

[nutmeg-puppygirl]

Made some of the NPCs in my DND game and now that's your problem

First up is the Evil Lich from the Long And Boring Backstory, The Black Hand. He was super eeeeeeeevil, but was slain twenty years before the campaign started

Next up is Father Malphos, former high priest of Orcus and current big bad guy. He's currently running a criminal gang/cult in the poorer parts of the city.

Speaking of which, the party's erstwhile ally and sorta-kinda patron, city councilwoman Kilian Darkwater (two references in one!) As the only non-human on the council, Councilor Darkwater struggles to meet the needs of her poor constituents. This plus her time in the Army of Light has convinced her of the necessity of hiring adventurers to cut through red tape.

Her only friend on the council is Lord Alden Foxglove. Please don't ask about the Black Hand memorabilia or the dead kenku in his spare bedroom.

And finally Cassilda, (aka the Lady in the Bottle), the subject of a Maguffin Hunt for the past several weeks. What does she know, and why did both the local crime lords want to know it? Find out tomorrow, on Heroes of Haven!

[violettduchess]

A/N: This is my gift for @readerinsertfanfiction 💜 The moment I saw Cyran on your list, I was thrilled. I hope you enjoy!

A huge thank you to @ikemenlibrary for her support and friendship and for being a generous, caring host 💜

Prompt: A servant, someone who knew Cyran from before his time in Rhodolite

Cyran x AU Emma

WC: ~4k

Obsidian: the Past

She runs across the cracked, sunbaked cobblestone streets, her treasure wrapped in a cream-colored tea towel and held protectively against her chest. Her worn leather shoes make a pleasing thunking sound against the stones as she hurries past dusty shop windows and faded porches, carefully dodging people on the street.

“Langsam, Emma!” someone yells as she flies past but she doesn’t listen to their warning. She can’t slow down. She has somewhere to be.

Finally she reaches the edge of town and takes a sharp left, leaving the cobblestones behind for a ribbon of dirt road that winds its way along tired hills covered with sparse sage-green grass and dotted with scraggly yellow dandelions. Another turn onto an even smaller path, a faint thing that meanders through the knee-high growth and then, finally, the faded barn comes into view. 

She smiles, pumping her young legs harder, willing them to swallow the distance faster and faster until she reaches the peeling, splintered wooden doors and haphazardly flings one open.

“Cyran? I’m here!!”

The boy, just shy of fourteen, turns away from the wooden beam he has been faux-sparring with, lowering the dull, well-worn practice sword he is so proud of. His hair gleams like fire in the hazy sunlight that shines through the pocked roof. 

Emma hurries over, gulping down huge breaths of musty air as she grabs his thin forearm.

“C’mon. I’m dying to see how they taste.”

Cyran laughs, struggling to sheath his sword as she drags him over to the blanket thrown over the hay in a cozy corner of the barn. This is their favorite place to meet, an escape from the outside world they discovered several years ago while exploring. It is here that Emma sometimes reads to him from one of her treasured books. She’s even shared stories she’s written, romantic tales of princesses and dragons, knights and monsters. Cyran is always the hero, the knight who slays the monsters and rescues the damsel in distress. Emma will change her roles in the stories. 

Sometimes she needs rescuing. 

But sometimes, she is the dragon.

Often they sneak treats to each other, hard biscuits or smoked meat or, if they are really lucky, sweet berries brought across the border from the lush neighboring country of Rhodolite. Cyran’s neighbor is a servant for some of the merchants that make the risky trips over and when he’s lucky, she manages to tuck away a few treasures just for him.

He settles himself down on the frayed checkered blanket and pushes his bright hair away from his forehead, eagerly watching as Emma drops down next to him, laying the tea towel down. Her face is flushed from her run and from the thrill of what she’s managed to bring him.

“Ready?”

He nods, enthusiastically motioning for her to unwrap it already. He has hands that are too big for his young body, growing the way many boys do at this age, in odd fits and spurts. 

Emma leans forward, pushing up the sleeve of her too-big dress and carefully pulls back the edges of the tea towel.

The smell hits them first, the warm spice of cinnamon, the tang of nutmeg, the slight bitterness of the cloves, the unmistakable scent of ginger. It wafts up towards them, exotic and tempting. Cyran breathes in deeply and then sighs happily as he looks at her, eyes bright and admiring.

“It smells so good.”

Cyran had carefully been saving up the exotic store of spices, some of them gifts from his neighbors, others decadent purchases made at the market from his meager earnings made mucking stalls and chopping wood. He knew that Emma would be the one who would create something special with them. Young as she was, she was a talented cook and baker, able to make the most fantastic treats out of the simplest ingredients. And now that she had been given such a treasure trove to work with, she had spun pure magic.

The spiced biscuits are dappled dark brown and gold. When she hands him one, it is with a reverence that echos a priest giving communion or a child receiving a shiny new toy at Christmas.

Their gazes meet and she nods.

“Together.”

He returns the nod, staring into the warm depths of her soft brown eyes.

“Together.”

They bite into the cookies at the same time. Emma breaks into a proud smile as Cyran closes his eyes, savoring the medley of flavor and even better, the knowledge that she made them just for him.

“It’s good, isn’t it?" she asks, grinning. She sees the look on his face, the way he is practically melting with enjoyment.

He lifts his shoulder in a casual shrug, feigning indifference.

“I guess……”

“What?!”

He takes another bite, leaning back on one hand. “I mean, they’re ok. But you know, Hilde’s biscuits are also really good–OOF.”

She’s tackled him, throwing herself at him with all the force of a frenzied feline, her nimble fingers scratching at his sides. Cyran breaks into laughter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and tries to squirm away from her.

“Ok ok Brown Eyes, enough!”

Emma lets him go, sitting back on her heels with a glowing, triumphant smile.

“Never say that about Hilde’s cookies again.”

He pushes himself up, heart pounding furiously in his chest. Only some of it is from laughing. He tears his gaze away from the unsettling beauty of her eyes, traveling up to her hair.

“You’re a mess. You got straw in your hair and your braid is a disaster.”

Emma turns and scoots until she is sitting in front of him. “Since it’s your fault….you fix it.”

Cyran heaves a sigh he doesn’t mean and then settles himself into a comfortable position, reaching forward and with a tenderness and care far beyond most boys his age, begins slowly picking the straw from her messy plait.

Emma’s eyes drift closed as she revels in the attention he’s giving her, the gentle way he untangles her braid and then very slowly begins brushing his fingers through her soft, chestnut-colored hair.

It feels comforting and safe.

It feels thrilling.

It feels like the early evening has come to a standstill and they have all the time in the world.

But their time together is like a rose slowly losing its petals.

A petal falls as he tells her, wide-eyed and shaken, that his neighbor has been killed in her own home, throat opened in the dead of night and left smiling its ghastly red smile until she was discovered hours later. Emma rubs his back, not knowing what else to do. This is not the first death in their village as of late. And it will not be the last.

A petal falls as they lay, side by side, on the blanket in the hay, staring up at the patches of starry sky visible through the holes in the roof. “My parents are scared,” she whispers. He turns his head to stare at her profile and knows it isn’t just her parents who are frightened. “I’ll protect you,” he whispers, voice fierce with youth’s naïve promise. Her gaze remains on the silver stars but she reaches out, taking his hand and squeezes it.

A petal falls as she comes to their favorite spot, face pale as bone, to tell him that her family is leaving. Her father has contacted distant relatives that live far to the north, as far from Rhodolite and the dangers it poses as one can get. Cyran feels like his young heart may break right there in his chest and he will be forced to live the rest of his life with its pieces rattling around inside of him. Though filled with dismay, Emma’s eyes are as beautiful as ever. They shine with tears, rivaling any star they have ever spent time gazing at.

A petal falls as she rushes through the dark, on the night before her family is to leave, her throat burning with feelings she can’t quite name, waves too strong to try and understand for fear they will sweep her away. She bursts through the barn doors and finds him already there, his hair dark as garnet, damp with sweat. He has spent the entire day doing heavy labor, removing heavy wooden beams, hauling ancient and broken equipment, sweeping the dusty, straw-strewn floor. Several lanterns placed around the interior bathe the space in warm, yellow light. The barn is as clean and inviting as he can make it. He wanted to give her one more memory, something beautiful, that she can take with her on her journey away from here. Away from him.

Emma is frozen in place, soaking in all he has done, before finally stopping on the young man at the center of it. He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Already his shoulders carry the hint of what manhood will bring him: strength and breadth. Arms that with training will turn hard and sculpted, legs that will lengthen until he is taller than most. He is the faint beginning of what he will become. Emma wonders wildly if she will ever get the chance to see the finished masterpiece.

“Emma,” he says, his voice raw and rough, deeper than she has ever heard it.

She sets down the bundle she is holding, the one she carried so close on the way here, leaving it on top of a weathered wooden barrel.

“Cyran,” she answers, her muscles tense, like a fawn when it hears a crunching in the underbrush.

He starts forward, one hesitant step and that is enough. She flies towards him, throwing her thin arms around his neck and buries her face in his worn linen shirt, clutching him to her. There is power in her small frame, something fierce and bright, a hurricane in crystal. Cyran holds her close, his eyes closing as he breathes in her familiar scent. He’s been teased his whole life because of his last name, but she is the one who reminds him of a rose, who always smells so sweet.

The anticipation of loss that has them clinging to each other slowly ebbs and something else, something that has been burning low and quiet in every laugh, every touch, every glance begins to emerge. She is suddenly aware of the press of her chest against his, of how much taller he is, the earthy smell of his skin. She leans back to look at him and sees the same awareness mirrored in his dark eyes.

Outside a rooster crows, loud and discordant.

Cyran turns his head toward the sound and Emma, sparked by the frantic knowledge that she must leave, grabs his chin, pulling him back to her and rises onto her toes, pressing her lips to his.

It is a sunbeam bursting through gray clouds. A spark breathing life into a pile of dried leaves. It is hope and promise and wonder.

And heartbreak.

With a stifled cry, she steps away, turns and flees the barn, not wanting to see the look on his face as she leaves, not wanting that to be her last memory of him.

Cyran watches with a thundering heart as the door swings shut. Flooded with helplessness and misery, he notices the bundle she left behind. Tenderly he lifts it, undoing the sky-colored ribbon. It’s her favorite handkerchief, white with pale blue forget-me-nots painstakingly embroidered along the edges, and nestled inside are several of her spiced biscuits. His favorites.

Rhodolite: The Present

Rhodolite is so much MORE than she expected. The streets are wider and cleaner and lined with greenery, more trees and flowering bushes and grass than in the entire garden of the palace in Obsidian. There are more people than she expected too, many standing under awnings and lampposts, peeking through windows and around doorways, watchful eyes in beautiful faces following the royal procession as it makes its way towards the palace. 

When she had been told by the Head Chef that they would be accompanying Prince Gilbert and his entourage to Rhodolite, Emma had felt a familiar ringing through the cockles of her heart. Rhodolite is where Cyran was rumored to have ended up. Whispers from the south had traveled her way, over the many years since they parted. He had joined the army when he was of age. He had left Obsidian for the verdure of Rhodolite. He was employed by one of the Princes there. Crumbs of information she had managed to gather, hoarding them tightly like precious drops of mana. 

He may not even be here, she reminds herself as her tired gray mare plods along down the street. She and the other servants are at the end of the procession and most of the people have turned away, not interested in anything but the dangerous Prince Gilbert with his sharp smile and blood-red gaze. 

Still, Emma finds herself scanning the crowds as they pass, looking for any head of red hair. She spots a few but they are never him.

As the overwhelming elegant palace suddenly rises towards the heavens before her, she draws in a sharp breath. 

We’re here…….

…….Is he?

The palace looms closer, a breathtaking monument of pale beauty.

And if so….how in the wide world will she ever find him?

Cyran runs a hand through his thick mass of russet hair as his long strides make quick work of the pathway towards the training hall. It’s late evening and the young, freshly-minted knights are at the end of their training and he needs to make sure everything went well without him there. He knows Lucian is more than capable of leading them through their drills but Cyran has a responsibility to make sure. They are all under his charge.

Entering the hall, he sees several of the knights laughing in a corner. Some are sitting and catching their breath, others are pushing the heavy sandbags they sometimes train with back into their storage room. What he sees reassures him. They look tired and sore, yet satisfied, faces bright with the feeling of accomplishment a tough training session will leave behind.

He’s about to go look for Lucian, expecting a full report when he notices several of the knights standing by the wooden table at the far end of the training circle, the one usually covered with straps for shields and rope and other odds and ends. They’re smiling, far too widely to be discussing anything so mundane as weaponry. Several are chewing. He approaches the table, greeted by his men with smiles and respectful nods. Immediately he notices the tin: it’s round and black, covered with decorative golden swirls. 

“What’s this?” He glances towards the first knight at his left, a tall lad with sandy blond hair.

“They were brought here by an Obsidian servant. She said they were a present for us.”

Cyran frowns, a skeptical look on his face as he reaches inside the tin for one of the golden brown cookies.

“And you didn’t think to–” He was going to ask if they thought accepting gifts from strangers was a good idea when the scent hits him, cutting through the sweat and musk of tired men.

The warm spice of cinnamon, the tang of nutmeg, the slight bitterness of cloves, the unmistakable scent of ginger.

He goes still, the breath knocked from his lungs.

Could it be…..

Something in his face hushes the men around him. They watch, curious as Cyran lifts the cookie and takes a bite. 

The man who sees everything, ever watchful, closes his eyes as he chews and the knights are transfixed by the absolute stillness that has overtaken their leader.

And then those eyes open and something in them has begun to burn, bright and alive.

The other half of the cookie falls to the dusty ground as he turns on his heel and, practically jogging, exits the training area, leaving behind the half-eaten biscuit and a slew of surprised faces.

The rose gardens are somehow even more beautiful in the twilight of evening. The red petals seem to have darkened, shedding their bright rose-red for a sultry scarlet. Shadows emerge from the trimmed hedges, stretching across the winding stone pathways, giving a visitor like Emma glimpses of hidden benches and secret dirt paths leading into clandestine corners of the gardens.

She has taken several of these more narrow, less-trodden paths, not at all afraid of getting lost. Her heart is a bird, flitting between dark branches, full of a nervous, tightly-wound energy she can’t quite explain. 

As the sky darkens to a deep navy blue and the first stars open their eyes, Emma pauses in front of a gray stone fountain. Two swans, nuzzling their beaks together, bodies curved towards one another as a blossoming flower rises above them, water spraying outward in celebration. She tilts her head, the romantic in her sighing at the way the two swans perfectly mirror one another, two halves of a whole, two souls in perfect harmony. So enchanted is she by the fountain that she doesn’t hear the footfall on the path, doesn’t notice the man who has stopped several meters away from where she is standing, the sight of her freezing him in his tracks.

“Emma.”

She jumps at the deep voice, her eyes wide and dark as she turns towards the sound. The owner of said voice is standing, half in shadow, at the place where the small path to the fountain begins, beneath a shadowy arch of crimson roses. She is so startled, she doesn’t even register that he has said her name.

“Oh….s'il te plaît, excuse-moi,” she says quickly, doing her best to remember the phrases of the common language spoken in Rhodolite. “J'espère que ça va…” She trails off, trying to remember how to say she hopes she is allowed to be here but the man takes another step closer, leaving the blanket of shadows and stepping into the fading light.

Even the dusky hue of evening cannot hide the red of his hair.

A gasp as soft as the flutter of a bird’s wing escapes her. The young boy she knew juxtaposed against this tall, broad man before her sends her heart into a tailspin. Her hand flies to her mouth as she takes him in. She sees the same bright light of recognition and admiration and overwhelming emotion plain as day on his beautiful face.

“Cyran?” The word is a whisper, a breathless repetition of the name she has kept in her prayers for decades.

His eyes never leave her, almost as if he has the power to hold her there with his gaze, to keep her from vanishing into the realm of his dreams where she has lived for so long. Slowly, he reaches up and loosens the laces at the top of his tunic. His hand slides inside and when it emerges, he is holding a small square of cloth. As he slowly opens it, her heart falters.

It’s white, with pale blue forget-me-nots embroidered around the edges.

He holds it out to her, his chest rising and falling with every deep breath he takes. That handkerchief has lived next to his heart, in an inner pocket, one he has sewn into every shirt he has ever owned since the day he watched her leave.

“I think…..this belongs to you, Brown Eyes.”

She chokes back a sob, unable to contain the thunderstorm of emotion coursing through her and runs to him, falling into his arms as naturally as a willow bends to the wind, tears falling freely down her cheeks. Cyran wraps his arms around her, sheltering her, holding her the way he has imagined a thousand times. His throat burns with all the words he has ached to say, all those sleepless nights spent remembering the lilt of her smile, the music of her laughter, the bittersweet taste of her kiss.

Emma squeezes her eyes closed, breathing in the scent of him, at once so familiar and yet so strange. Her arms wind around his waist as she presses herself against him, drinking in the sensation of his body on hers. 

This is Cyran….her Cyran…..her….

A thought pierces her heart as she suddenly steps away from him, eyes wide, still so beautiful as they glimmer with the remnants of her tears.

“Oh…I…I didn’t mean…..you could be married. I shouldn’t have-”

His laughter is coarse, rough with emotion, a roll of rushing water as it careens over the lip of a cliff.

“As if I could ever love anyone else.”

Love…..

As if summoned by the very word, the moon itself parts the soft gray clouds, flooding the small section of the garden with silvery light. The tinkling of the fountain fills the momentary silence. 

Cyran’s cheeks suddenly flush, a hot mixture of embarrassment and panic overriding the elation of the previous moment.

“I…..I don’t mean to presume of course that you feel the same. It has been a long time and…..” He trails off, wincing. Fluster is such an uncharacteristic state of being for Cyran. “Ah, shit. I’m sorry. I–” 

His words are cut off as Emma launches herself back into his arms, hugging him fiercely.

“Please, don’t apologize.” She tilts her head up to look at him, still in awe of how she sees the young man he was and the handsome man he has become in his beautiful eyes, in his exquisite face. “It has always been you.”

Cyran drags air into his lungs, hardly able to believe he isn’t dreaming. His rough fingers capture her chin, his thumb running over the sensitive skin just under her lower lip. 

Slowly, he leans down as she stretches upwards, eager and nearly trembling with emotion. 

He kisses her, his hand still cupping her face. Gently his mouth moves over hers as he tells her a wordless story of longing, of a bruised heart that learned to somehow keep beating. 

He kisses her, a strong arm pulling her closer, his lips and tongue weaving the tale of a young soldier who never forgot the girl with the tender heart and radiant spirit. The soldier who dreamed of her face during his darkest nights and longed for her laughter on days of sunshine.

She meets him, kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke, sliding her palms along his broad shoulders, clutching him as she answers his tale, confessing without words how he has never left her heart. How his smile was her light in times of worry and despair. How seeing him again has been her northern star from the moment of parting.

Only the moon knows how long they stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, lost in each other’s yearning.

When they finally part, Cyran rests his forehead against hers, still keeping her tightly in his embrace. He may never let go again.

“You’re….in the employ of Prince Gilbert. I am here.” He frowns ever so slightly as he brushes several loose strands of hair away from Emma’s charmingly flushed cheek. “This could get complicated.”

Their gazes meet and she nods.

“Yes…..but we’ll figure it out.”

And suddenly he is carried back in time to an evening when her eyes shone just as brightly, just as excitedly, a young girl with something to give a young boy, a homemade cookie, an offering of love.

“Together.” 

Her voice echoes across the years, that word wrapping itself around his battered heart, a balm, a blessing.

He returns the nod, staring into the warm depths of her soft brown eyes, tenderly stroking the silk of her hair, and answers her now as he did back then. 

“Together.”

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @wordycheeseblob

[bylrndgm]

and they say that a hero could save us.

@elmax-week2023 | day ii | august, 29th. ↳ prompt: spiderman au - concept: spiderman ost x elmax scenes

here are the song used (with youtube links):

My Nutmeg Phantasy [Macy Gray, Angie Stone, Mos Def] from: Spiderman (2002)

Ordinary [Train] from: Spiderman 2 (2004)

Signal Fire [Snow Patrol] from: Spiderman 3 (2007)

Til Kingdom Come [Coldplay] from: The Amazing Spiderman (2012)

bonus: in the post description i have used Hero [Chad Kroeger, Josey Scott] from Spiderman (2002) -> my very favorite opsie

[louisupdates]

MY FOOTBALL

The One Direction star has two principal loves: Ronaldinho and James Coppinger

FOUR FOUR TWO, MARCH 2023 (by PAUL WILKES)

Which was the first match that you ever went to?

I actually got into football quite late, when I started playing at around 11. There were a few Manchester United fans in the family, so the first match I ever went to was an unbelievable first game: the FA Cup fifth round tie against Arsenal in February 2003 - the match when Sir Alex Ferguson kicked the boot and hit David Beckham! My best memories come from Doncaster, who are the only club I support now. We had a fantastic League Cup run in 2005 - we beat Manchester City on penalties, then beat Aston Villa 3-0 and lost to Arsenal on penalties in the quarter-finals. That was my first real low as a football fan. I can remember walking back home absolutely gutted.

Who was your childhood hero and did you ever meet them?

James Coppinger is my club hero - he played at every level and really played for the badge. Everyone in Donny loves him and he’s a great bloke too. After I got into One Direction, I was lucky to meet him and played alongside him a couple of times in charity games. As a fan growing up watching him, that was amazing l. The best person I’ve ever met in football was Pele. I met him about four or five years ago and it was incredible - he had all these stories and we spoke for ages. He was lovely.

What has been your finest moment playing football?

I played in Soccer Aid and Ronaldinho tried to nutmeg me. I was all over his shirt, giving him no respect, and I just managed to nick the ball off him! There's a sick picture that I've seen of it.

The other moment was when I was about 15. I started as a centre-back, but didn’t grow any taller so moved across to right-back, and scored the only Sunday League goal I ever scored. I’ll never forget it.

What do you like most about going to the match?

The whole atmosphere, that magic. When you have those experiences as a young lad, there’s an element of nostalgia each time you go into a football stadium.

Which players do you admire even though they’ve never played for your club?

As some of my family supported Manchester United, I was never allowed to like Thierry Henry, but those grudge matches against Arsenal were amazing. He was a serious player.

Where’s the best place you’ve ever watched a game?

The Bernabeu - it was Neymar’s first ever Clasico for Barcelona against Real Madrid, which is pretty special. It’s one of the bucket list fixtures to go to. When I was young, Doncaster signed me as a reserve player and I went to a pre-season training camp in Portugal. As a supporter of the club, that’s not something you’re normally privy to, so watching how the squad trained and prepared was fascinating.

A few years ago, you filmed a music video with Bebe Rexha on the pitch at Keepmoat Stadium. What was that like?

It was really important for me and my career. The reason I’m sat here today is because of Doncaster - it’s played a huge role. It’s who I am as a person and it’s what I write songs about. The fact that we were able to film the video at the Keepmoat, where I’ve spent many days and evenings, made it so special. It felt appropriate.

What’s your favourite football book?

It’s not a book, but FourFourTwo! I used to subscribe when I was younger. I’m not a big reader otherwise. I should be, but I’m not.

What’s been your worst experience at a game?

I was playing in a charity match at Celtic Park. I got the ball and turned to my right, then Gobby Agbonkhor come through the back of me and I tore my medial ligament. A combination of the impact and me being very unfit meant I ended up throwing up all over Celtic's stodium, which I know will please a lot of Rangers supporters.

Have any footballers been to a gig?

Paul Pogba came to a One Direction show once, that's the one that stands out - he was really sound. I won’t lie, I don’t think many footballers listen to One Direction songs.

What’s the strangest place you’ve ever met a footballer?

I was in this bar in South America and, purely by chance, Bryan Robson was there with a few friends. He was a bit drunk. We went straight over and he was nice, but it was one of those times where you think, “What is he doing here?!” [Laughs]

What’s the greatest goal you’ve ever seen live?

I was at Zlatan Ibrahimovic's debut for the LA Galaxy, because I spend some time over in Los Angeles. The LAFC keeper launched the ball upfield and it was cleared back to Zlatan about forty yards out. He watched it bounce and then smashed it over the keeper’s head - an unbelievable goal. I love him - I like a bit of s**thousery in my footballers, and he's always had that.

Who’s your current favourite player?

The obvious answer is Erling Haaland, because any fan seeing him rack up the goals this season has been totally in awe. Even if you support Manchester United, you watch him and think he's superb. But for me, Jude Bellingham. I’m so excited by Jude - he's been in brilliant form this season, even before the World Cup.

If you could drop yourself into your all-time five-a-side team, who would you be playing next to?

Well, I play at the back, so I want me and Rio Ferdinand. I'd pick Edwin van der Sar, he was a top keeper in his day, then in midfield I'd have Ronaldinho - I grew up loving his football. Up front, I'll go for Cristiano Ronaldo.

What’s the most important piece of memorabilia that you have?

I had a Doncaster home shirt as a kid that I associate with growing up. A few years ago, I bought the same shirt in my current size - it's special to me, and when I met Pele I asked him to sign it. That was the pinnacle.

[Thanks to TeamLouisMedia for the HD photo.]

links to fourfourtwouk’s posts about Louis on Twitter and Instagram

[fledermoved-too]

PiB AU Scourge and Fuego 🧊🔥

Some thoughts I had for a backstory concerning my request muse Scourge and @firestcr !! This is just an idea ofc, so if this doesn't work for you that's totally fine <33

it's okay to rb this btw!

info under the cut:

This is inspired by the Hawkstorm MAP, which is one of my favorites!

In this AU, Scourge and Fuego are siblings from the same litter, born in a small town just an hour or so out from Mexico City within a run-down, dilapidated hut. Their mother, a stray, does her best to care for the two with limited resources, and they have a fairly normal childhood at first, getting along well. Scourge (then Tiny) is raised as a girl, as that is his assigned gender at birth. He is often adorned with a flower, the anemone, which symbolizes the idea of being forsaken, which is pure coincidence to their reality, but foreshadows his fate.

One night, during a particularly devastating storm, lightning strikes a tree close by to their hut, and it catches fire. The fire spreads with extreme speed as their mother wakes to the roar of the flames and tries to get her children to safety, but can only carry one through the rapidly deconstructing building. Tiny does his best to keep up, but is barred from following as debris collapses, blocking the path to his only exit. Nutmeg flees with her remaining kit, devastated as she assumes Tiny has been crushed.

Fire has destroyed their home and Rusty's only sister, yet he is born from the ashes, and as Nutmeg eventually succumbs to her own burns and smoke inhalation in town, Rusty is taken in by townsfolk and named Fuego after his pelt and past. As he is raised, more and more of the incident falls from his immediate memory, but he never forgets the death of his littermate and mother, promising to carry them within his heart always as he becomes the hero that the town deserves, fighting evil as he travels place to place. As he outgrows the collar handed down to him by townsfolk, he no longer wears it, but keeps the item out of sentimental value. He gains a partisan to utilize as his favored weapon.

It's unknown how Tiny was able to escape that night and survive, but he did make an escape, bearing horrific burns that would result in hair loss, troubled breathing, as well as skin and nerve damage. Fortunately, some of his fur would grow back, but not the full amount, giving him a more mangy appearance and earning him the name El Chupacabra by locals. This treatment comes to the exact opposite of Fuego's, as Scourge decides to give himself a third name for shortness' sake and to keep his anger within his title. This is when he begins to realize he is a tomcat. To him, Tiny is dead as well, though more metaphorically.

He becomes an outlaw, bearing a hatchet ready to kill and a collar of bone and tooth to settle his new look. Though he is a bitter opponent, a few select strays admire the tenacity and fierceness of his work, occasionally grouping with him for resources in hopes of food and shelter, but they are not fully loyal. At a true sniff of danger, they flee, leaving Scourge alone in his mission to rustle livestock and commit vicious theft and killings.

Scourge remembers the night vividly in trauma, and knows who Fuego is. He harbors resentment for his brother, but will not openly acknowledge that he knows Fuego. Instead, he acts as the antagonist, and the opposing force to all that Fuego has built as a reputation. If Fuego is the hero, then El Chupacabra must be the villain.

[exhausted-archivist]

ALT

Flora of Thedas Master List

Master list of all the flora in Thedas, mentioned or seen.

Additional notes on certain items will be listed at the bottom, for items marked with asterisks, see the key below for a brief explanation and the Game assets and Additional Notes and Trivia section at the bottom. Sources are listed at the very end and this time linked.

For other lists here are posts for: Real Plants in Thedas

Key: * - Name comes from the asset file name ** - Name not provided but identified based on the textures used on the asset. *** - See Additional Notes and Trivia.

General Flora: Flowers and Foliage

Acacia*: Black Wood*

Andraste's Grace

Ardent Blossom

Ash

Aspen

Banyan Tree*

Barbwood

Beech Tree

Belladonna

Birch: White Birch*

Blackthorn

Bluebell

Borage

Boswellia

Boxwood*

Buttercup

Cactus: Pear Cactus*

Cattail*

Cedar: Red Cedar

Chicory

Clover: Forest Clover*

Coleus**

Cosmos

Cotton

Crape Myrtle

Cypress: Italian Cypress*, Topiary Cypress*

Daffodil

Daisy: Marguerite

Dandelion

Dog-rose

Dogwood*

Elephant Ear*

Elm

Fade Berry*

Felicidus Aria

Fern: Red Fern*, Sword Fern*

Fir

Flax

Foxleaf*

Frangipani

Gorse

Harlot's Blush

Hawthorn

Hay

Hemp

Hensbane

Hero Tree*

Hollyhock

Honeysuckle

Iris

Ironbark

Ironwood***

Itchweed

Ivy

Jasmin

Larch

Lichen: Glowing Lichen

Lilac

Lily: Calla Lily**, Water Lily

Lotus

Maple

Marigold

Moss: Oakmoss, Redmoss, Tree-Moss

Nightshade

Northern Prickleweed

Oak: Serault Oak

Orchid

Palm Tree: Curly Palm*, Fan Palm*

Pansy

Peony

Pine: Chir Pine*, Stone Pine

Ponga Tree*

Poppy

Prickle-burrs

Redwood*

Rose: Climbing Rose

Rowan

Sandalwood

Seaweed

Snapdragon

Spruce

Sugar Cane

Sundew

Sunflower

Sylvanwood

Tahanis

Thistle

Trex*

Trullium

Vasanthum

Violet

Walnut: Black Walnut

Waterweed*

Wilds Flower

Willow

Witchhazel*

Wysteria

Yew

Fruits

Apple: Applewood Apple, Green Apple, Golden Apple, Red Apple

Apricot

Banana

Berries: Blackberry, Blueberry, Bramble Berry, Cranberry, Elderberry, Raspberry, Strawberry

Cherry

Citron

Coco, Chocolate

Coconut

Coffee

Currants: Black Currant

Fig

Grape

Lemon

Lime

Melon

Nuts: Almonds, Chestnut, Hognut, Peanuts

Olives

Orange: Sweet Orange

Palm Fruit: Date

Passion Fruit

Peach

Pear: Bradford Pear*

Plum

Pomegranate

Grains

Barley

Oats

Rice

Ryott

Wheat

Vegetables

Artichoke

Beans: Bush Bean, Green Bean, Pale Bean, White Bean

Beets

Bell Peppers: Red Bell Peppers

Cabbage

Capers

Carrot

Celery

Chive

Corn

Cucumber

Daikon Radish*

Eggplant

Fennel

Onion: Red Onion, Sweet Onion, White Onion

Pea

Peppers: Antivan Pepper, Green Pepper, Hot Pepper, Hot Red Pepper, Sweet Pepper

Potato

Radish

Spinach

Squash: Baby Pumpkin, Marrow Squash, Pumpkin, String Squash

Tomato

Turnip

Fungus of Thedas

Deep Mushrooms

Bleeding Russula

Blightcap

Blighted Morel

Brimstone Mushroom

Deep Mushroom

Destroying Spirit

Ghoul's Mushroom

Unnamed Mushroom Ortan Thaig

Surface Mushrooms

Beetle Spore

Drakevein

Field Mushroom

Gasbloom*

Sponge Root***

Toadstool

Truffle

Morel***

Unnamed Glowing Mushroom***

Unnamed Mushroom***

Spices

Allspice

Antivan Cord-Seed

Cardamom

Cinnamon

Clove

Cumin, Cumin Seed

Dill, Dill Seed

Juniper

Licorice

Mace

Mustard

Nutmeg

Pepper: Black Pepper

Peppercorn: Black Peppercorn

Saffron

Vanilla

ALT

Herbs of Thedas

Herbs count as anything that Dragon Age has classified as an herb (whether technically correct or not), plants that are used as herbs in real life. These do not include mushrooms, fungi, or deep mushrooms simply for ease of organization.

Amrita Vein

Andraste's Mantle

Arbor Blessing

Basil

Bay

Catsbane

Crystal Grace

Deathroot: Arcanist Deathroot, Lunatic's Deathroot

Dragonthorn

Elfroot/Canavaris: Bitter Elfroot, Gossamer Elfroot, Royal Elfroot

Embrium: Dark Embrium, Salubrious Embrium

Felandaris

Foxite

Garlic

Ghoul's Beard

Ginger

Heatherum

Lavender

Lotus: Black Lotus, Blood Lotus, Dawn Lotus

Madcap

Mint: Anderfel's Mint, Foxmint, Peppermint

Mintroot - Not a true mint based on its description and the fact that it grows on trees.

Oregano

Parsley

Prophet's Laurel

Rashvine

Rashvine Nettle

Redleaf

Rosemary

Sage

Spindleweed: Verdant Spindleweed

Stripweed

Thyme

Vandal Aria

Winterberry***

Witherstalk

Star Anise

Wormwood

Wormroot***

Game Assets Notes

These are plants shown in Dragon Age but aren't named in universe, just in their model files or through identification of the textures. Since most filler plant textures are just that of real world plants.

**NOTE:** When I mention they are not the known name of any plant, this comes with the caveat of being popular common names. Common names are highly variable and inconsistent. They depend on regional knowledge and association. Some travel farther than others. Common names are also not reliable identifiers.

Acacia: Black Wood ~ Note: Black Wood is a type of acacia. Both acacia and black wood are named assets.

Artichoke ~ Note: Identification comes from asset name, the artichoke flower is used as ornamentation of a box.

Banyan Tree

Boxwood ~ A type of shrub, identification comes from asset name.

Bradford Pear ~ Their fruits are edible, however their flowers are known to emit a smell akin to rotting meat. Identification comes from asset name.

Calla Lily ~ Note: Not named but identified by the texture used. It is seen in Val Royeaux planters.

Cattail ~ Note: Seen through out DAO and DAI, identification comes from asset name.

Coleus ~ Note: Not named but identified by the texture used. It is seen in Val Royeaux planters and in the Frostback Basin.

Crape Myrtle

Cypress: Italian Cypress, Topiary Cypress ~ Note: In terms of the Italian Cypress, in world it wouldl likely be called the "Antivan Cypress" given that Antiva is pulling from Italian culture, food, environments, and other inspirational elements. Cypress is a plant that is named in canon.

Daikon Radish ~ Note: Found on Dennet's farm, identification comes from asset name.

Dogwood

Elephant Ear ~ Note: Foliage found in the Frostback Basin, identification comes from asset name.

Fade Berry

Fern: Red Fern, Sword Fern ~ Note: The red fern isn't a real plant and therefore can be considered unique to Thedas. In contrast the sword fern is a real plant. Identification comes from the asset name for both of these ferns.

Forest Clover

Foxleaf ~ Note: This is another plant that is not real, no plant has this common name as far as I could find.

Gasbloom ~ Note: Seen in the Arbor Wilds, the Frostback Basin some elven ruins, and the elven ruins of multiplayer levels. Their identification comes from the asset name. There are two versions of the texture the "fixed" version is used in JoH dlc and thus explains the difference in appearance. This is not the name of a known mushroom.

Hero Tree

Palm: Curly Palm, Fan Palm ~ Note: Both palms are seen in the Frostback Basin, both are identified by their named assets.

Pear Cactus ~ Note: Found in the Frostback Basin, identification comes from the asset name.

Pine: Chir Pine

Ponga Tree ~ Note: Also known as the 'Tree Fern'. This is the tree you see in Val Royeaux garden as coming from Par Vollen, and throughout the Arbor Wilds.

Redwood ~ Note: Identified by the name of the file asset. Found in the Winter Palace, Exalted Plains, and on multiplayer maps.

Snapdragon

Trex

Waterweed ~ Note: In real life this is an entire genus not one particular plant. Though the six plants in this genus do share the common name of waterweed.

White Birch

Witchhazel

Additional Notes and Trivia

Ironwood - Unclear if this is an alternative name, the actual name of the plant, or both.

Morel - This mushroom is inferred due to the existence of Blighted Morel. However it is not explicitly specified there is a non-blighted morel.

Sponge Root - Though canonical as it is mentioned and shown in World of Thedas vol. 2 on pg. 138 with a collection of deep mushroom and surface mushroom illustrations. This mushroom was cut twice from Inquisition. It was cut from the base game as a craftable, it had a much different appearance from its final design, and then it was cut again from Trespasser. It does however still make an appearance in Inquisition as the inventory icon for Crystal Grace.

Unnamed Glowing Mushroom Is mentioned in multiplayer when there are two Lukas playing.

Unnamed Mushroom These brown mushrooms are seen in the Fallow Mire and the Frostback Basin. They are shown in two different sizes ranging from shorter than a dwarf to taller than one.

There is one unlisted mushroom, its assets is named "red mushroom" and thus is identified by textures. These is not a canon name but is included for completeness. Amanita Muscaria: More commonly know as fly agaric or fly amanita, the red top with white spots is an iconic in its imagery. You will find large swaths of these mushrooms in the Frostback Basin. Their assets is named "Red Mushroom".

Winterberry is a real plant. However, from what we see in DA2, it does not the same as the plant we have in the real world, just a shared common name.

Wormroot is another real plant name. However, due to the description in The Calling, it does not seem to be the same plant. In The Calling it is used to treat the venom of a giant spider. The real world plant is used to treat parasites in the gut and does not seem to hold any shared uses in folk lore, folk medicine, or western medicine practices.

Sources

Dragon Age Origins + DLCs Dragon Age 2 Dragon Age Last Court Dragon Age Inquisition + DLCs Dragon Age TTRPG Core Rulebook Dragon Age TTRPG Blood of Ferelden Dragon Age TTRPG: Creatures of Thedas: Wyvern

World of Thedas Vol. 1 and Vol. 2 Dragon Age: The Stolen Throne Dragon Age: The Calling Dragon Age: The Masked Empire Dragon Age: Last Flight Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights Short Story: Paying the Ferryman Short Story: Riddle in the Truth Short Story: The Wake

Origins Andraste's Grace Codex: The Bercillian Forest Codex: Falon'Din: Friend of the Dead, the Guide Codex: Feast Day Fish Codex: The History of Soldier's Peak: Chapter 3 Codex: Ironbark Codex: A Note from the Honnleath Village Council Codex: Sylaise: The Hearthkeeper Codex: Sylvan Codex: A Tattered Shopping List Item: Concentrator Agent Item: Deep Mushroom Item: Figurine Item: Madcap Bulb Item: Rare Antivan Brandy Item: Rashvine Nettle Item: Spirit Charm Item: Spirit Cord Item: Sugar Cake Item: Swift Salve Item: West Hill Brandy Item: Wilds Flower

DA 2 Ambrosia Bianca (Crossbow) Ironwood Clearing Codex: Deathroot Codex: Deep Mushroom Codex: Embrium Codex: Felandaris Codex: The Hedge Witch Codex: Spindleweed Item: Carved Ironwood Buttons Item: Harlot's Blush Quest: Hard to Stomach Quest: The Long Road Quest: Tranquility Weapon: The Celebrant Weapon: Ironwood Shield Weapon: Ironwood Warblade

Inquisition Codex: Amrita Vein Codex: Arbor Blessing Codex: Avvar Cuisine Codex: Black Lotus Codex: Blood Lotus Codex: Bottles of Thedas Codex: Crystal Grace Codex: Elfroot Codex: Ghoul's Beard Codex: The Girl in Red Crossing Codex: Hard in Hightown Chapter 7 Codex: Hard in Hightown Chapter 10 Codex: Mediations and Odes to Bees Codex: Notes on Palace Guests Codex: The Orlesian Civil War Codex: Prophet's Laurel Codex: Rashvine Codex: Rashvine Nettle Codex: Vandal Aria Codex: Vivienne's Alchemy Notes Codex: Waterlogged Diary Codex: Witherstalk Note: Betta's Traveling Journal Note: Carta Note on Security Note: Field Notes Note: The Gilded Horn's Drink List Note: Knight-Captain's Orders Note: Love Letter Note: A Note from Skyhold's Kitchens Note: A Note from Skyhold's Kitchens, Again War Table: The Dance with the Dowager: The Allemande Item: Ardent Blossom

Last Court The Abbess' Road The Anchoress Arrival of the Divine The Feast is Ending Fires Flames of Freedom Good Neighbors Heartwood Feast The Hounds The Lord of the Wood Comes a-Calling The Purveyor of Teas Road and River A Swift Stream Thieves! Unofficial Meeting

Want to support this blog? Check out my ko-fi!

[adminbryantsaki]

Masterlist

This is just the list of spices I plan to write a story associating with the spice. The list includes: spices, herbs, and other dried fruits or flavors you may find in your parent or grandparent’s pantry. There will be some spices or herbs grouped into one category so I don’t end up writing more than the 31 stories I want to do for this month. I’d also like to thank my mom for helping me pull together this list of spices that she has shown me how to use in the wonderful meals that she makes.  These stories will be themed for My Hero Academia. All  the characters in these stories belong to Horikoshi Kohei. If this isn’t your cup of tea, blend of spices (haha in this case), or brew of coffee, move on. Reader discretion is advised.

Paprika- Sero Fluff.

Garlic- Fatgum Fluff

Onion- Tamaki overeating, weight gain, button popping

Star anise- Shouta- ABO

Basil- Hizashi- Naga, oviposition, ABO, aphrodisiacs, non-con.

Black pepper- Kurogiri- Monster fucking.

White pepper- Oboro-in the shower.

Caraway- Shouta- Springtime rut

Chili pepper- Hizashi- coming home from a long trip.

Chives- Fatgum- Road trip/ pulling off to the side/ semi-public.

Cilantro- Oboro/Kurogiri- Caretaker/nurse (Stockholm syndrome.)

Cumin- Shouta- Camping trip/ in a tent.

Turmeric- Gang Orca- Bodyguard- in the tour bus.

Dill (and dill weed)-  Oboro/Kurogiri- Camping trip.

Fennel seed- Fatgum- hand job.

Mustard (ground, powder, and seed)-Hizashi- Camping trip

Oregano- Shouta- summer rut.

Parsley- Gang Orca- On a cruise ship

Salt (kosher, black, plain salt, iodized, Himalayan/pink)- Oboro/Kurogiri- On the beach.

Rosemary-Shouta- Fall rut.

Thyme (lemon thyme too)- Hizashi- on a forest trail

Sage- Fatgum-aftercare.

Tarragon- Shouta- winter rut.

Truffle- Kurogiri- in the kitchen.

Cardamom- Oboro- on cloud nine.

Dried fruits (Apple, orange, pineapple, mango, banana, blueberry, strawberry, apricots, dates… any others that I’m missing are thrown in here too) -Hizashi-  Cock ring and cock warming.

Mint (and Peppermint/spearmint too) -Oboro/Kurogiri-  aftercare

Vanilla- Shouta- aftercare.

Citrus( lemon, lime, orange, grapefruit.) – Hizashi- aftercare

Dried dandelion and nettle- Gang Orca- aftercare.

Pumpkin pie spice (Cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, cloves, and allspice.) – Eri- trick or treat.

@chaos-night @reciproburstbaby @suzuki-violin-school

[blimbo-buddy]

about the tier list, I'm really curious as to why Jake is as low as he is

You got a big storm comin'

So the thing is, I like Jake. To an extent. It's the canon and common fanon versions of him that I don't care much for

I don't like the idea that he's this great father and great friend who everyone loves. I also have my share of gripes of his appearances. Which is weird, you'd think that I'd be happy that a Kittypet has so many appearances in a book, especially if they're present in multiple books in some form.

But. I feel nothing whenever he shows up or is mentioned. and I have no clue why. But I can try and narrow them down:

I don't like how much he's put onto a pedestal by the fandom

I don't care for the friendships he makes in canon

I don't like his fanon characterization of being the number 1 dad ever

As a matter of fact, I have a wildly different interpretation of him compared to other versions. Below the cut is me going on about my version of how I interpret him. But to reiterate:

Jake being so loved by the fandom and put on a pedestal for being a "Good dad" makes me want him boiled

I feel nothing about him and continue to feel the same way about him in canon

He works better as being a good enough friend, but horrible father

Okay so without further ado:

He was simply another cat indoctrinated into following clan society, he's just doing it with extra steps

His love for the clans soured his reputation greatly in Chelford (i think we all can get an idea of why)

He had the time of his life with TallTail, loving every story he told him of the Clans. To Jake, it was like he was meeting a personal hero (even if he never knew TallTail beforehand)

He was probably chosen by Starclan to act as the perfect puppet for their meddling. So he was visited one night and informed that he could be the sire to the greatest cat that ever lived

Jake longed for a place in the world, a way that he could cement himself into history, no matter if he would become infamous to his hometown. He could finally be something in the world

So when he was given this message from the Clan's afterlife that he would sire a prophecy cat, he went right to finding cats

First, he actually met Nutmeg. She wasn't from Chelford so she never experience The Raids, meaning that she didn't hold malice towards him.

Together, they had Filou, Tommy, and Luna. But when Jake laid his eyes onto the litter, he felt nothing special, no implication that this litter was a success in creating the prophecy cat

I'm not sure if I'd either have Jake cheat on Nutmeg or have Jake and Nutmeg split up for a moment, but either way:

Jake met Quince- who he had known for quite some time in their younger years-. She was hesitant at first with being together with him due to his reputation, but she grew fond of him again

They had a three-kit litter: Socks, Ruby, and Tiny

Jake prayed that this would be the one. But as you could have guessed: It wasn't

Jake swore he could have heard a small voice in the back of his mind - Starclan perhaps?-, to just try one. more. time:

Jake left Quince and went back to Nutmeg and the two had their second and final litter: Princess and Rusty

The moment Jake laid his eyes onto Rusty, he felt a burst of energy into his body that nearly hurt like fire. Rusty was the one

From that day, Jake put every second of his attention onto Rusty, secretly telling him of the Clans in the forest and encouraging his son to be adventurous

For Jake, he finally found his purpose in the world. He now had his prophecy child who would become something far beyond extraordinary. He was Jake: Father of FireStar, the fire that saved the Clans

Here's some other posts that go over how I view him (Which also includes rewrite stuff)

Why FireStar is hated by the Clans

Firekin's familial struggle

Jake repeating the cycle of indoctrination and clan propaganda

Jake's prophecy child mission

[sixminutestoriesblog]

apples

Autumn is finally in the air in the Northern Hemisphere and for a lot of us, our minds turn to one thing - decadently spiced baked goods! Sure, we could make pumpkin muffins at any time of the year but there's just something about the sharp inhale of crisp, cold air and the bustle of falling leaves outside, hinting at the beginning of an end, that adds a special flavor to fall dishes. Winter and its lean times will soon be upon us and even if, today, we have grocery stores to keep our winter meals diverse, something inside of us still needs to pack in all the cinnamon, nutmeg and last fruits of the season that we can. And what fall season's table would be complete without apples? Apple cider, apple crumble, baked apples, candied apples - the list goes on. Throw some cinnamon or caramel at us and we're good to go. Apples, it turns out, have always been a source of temptation.

We'll start with the low hanging fruit easy ones. Though its never named in the Bible, the apple is the common fruit associated with Adam and Eve's fall. Offered by a snake, picked from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, the temptation to reach out and pick a ripe apple off a forbidden tree is probably experienced again by a multitude of school children, and adults, anytime a walk brings them within range of a stranger's orchard. The adam's apple some people have prominently enough to see on their throats is supposedly the left over of the bite of apple that got stuck in Adam's throat for his impertinence against God.

The Greeks also loved their tempting apples. Atalanta lost a footrace to the man that was cunning enough to throw golden apples behind him as he ran, distracting her as she went to retrieve them enough for him to win. The Trojan War was supposedly the result of three goddesses feuding over a golden apple that claimed it would belong 'to the fairest' and a shepherd who didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. And Hera, one of those three feuding goddess, already had a tree that bore golden apples, guarded either by a dragon-serpent or three nymphs, that had the tree's apples stolen, thanks to Hercules.

In Russian, a firebird is caught stealing the ruler's golden apples each night. In Ireland, a silver branch that grows either golden apples or balls of gold belongs to a sea deity. Iounn or Idun is the Norse goddess of eternal youth - and apples. Multiple goddesses across the globe that are associated with love and sexuality claim the apple as their fruit. Germany, Bulgaria, Serbia and Romania all have fairy tales where apples play a pivotal role. The Avalon of Arthurian legend is said to be the Isle of Apples. Heck, even Snow White's final attempted murder is accomplished with the bite of an apple.

Apples aren't just for gods and heroes though and perhaps that's part of their enduring fixation in folklore. If an Appalachian girl is clever enough to skin an apple without once breaking the peel, she should throw it over her left shoulder. It will fall in the shape of a letter, the first initial of her future husband. In Austria, she can cut an apple in half on St. Thomas's night. An even number of seeds mean she'll marry soon but a broken or cut seed she will end up a widow. An alternate on this is that the number of seeds will be the number of children she'll have. An apple stem can be twisted, reciting a letter of the alphabet with each twist. When the stem breaks, the letter will be the start of a future spouse's name. A woman with multiple suitors can drop apple seeds into the fire, reciting a name for each seed. The seed that pops instead of staying silent as it burns is the suitor who is 'bursting' with love for her. In Pennsylvania, licking an apple and then giving it to someone to eat insures they'll fall in love with you.

Incidentally, I'm sure, its considered bad luck not to 'shine' an apple and clean it off before you take a bite of it. Just... pointing that out.

Stories about legendary heroes like apples too. In Switzerland, William Tell was forced by his captors to shoot an apple off his son's head with a crossbow to win their freedom. School children will tell you Isaac Newton figured out gravity thanks to an apple falling on his head. And Johnny Appleseed is an American folkhero that walked across the continent while America was busy spreading west, planting apple trees as he went.

Each year after harvest, some of the apples that have fallen should be left on the ground for the fairy or the dead (or the poor) depending on which tradition you're going by. Boats made of applewood are bad luck. If a woman that's had multiple children eats the first apple of the season, the rest of the harvest will be fruitful. Likewise, eating an apple before the wedding night is supposed to lead to fruitfulness. If an apple tree blossoms while there are still apples on the branches in England someone in the family will die but if the same thing happens in Europe, its the sign of a fruitful year ahead instead. It's unlucky to destroy an apple tree or worse an apple orchard. And, for some reason, giving teachers apples is such a common theme in the US and Europe that its become an entire kick-knack industry.

And let's not forget:

An apple a day keeps the doctor away.

That's comparing apples to oranges.

One bad apple spoils the whole barrel.

They're the apple of their mother's eye.

He's fresh faced and apple cheeked.

It's as American as apple pie.

and, finally,

How about them apples?!

[ahedderick]

Splendid Saturday

The rain has stopped and it's the sunniest, breeziest, brightest, most flower-filled Saturday morning you could ever want. Peak April!

Hero has an extra-bad case of the itchy-miserables. His winter coat has been shedding out for a couple of weeks, now, and no matter how much my daughter and I groom him, the hair (and dander) keep shedding.

That pile of hair on the ground is just a small sample of his shedding prowess. There is a metal curry comb that seems to feel best to him, and I have spent a ridiculous amount of time the last week trying to find his itchy spots and help him out. If I don't, he sometimes rubs on a tree until he actually injures/scrapes himself, and I hate seeing that. Of course, the whole time I'm trying to work on him, Nutmeg is either trying to squeeze in between us or bonking me with her horns to get my attention. She Wants to be Groomed, Too.

@plantanarchy if you weren't busier than a beaver after a rainstorm, I'd be begging you to come scrape hair off this poor horse!!

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

Chef Cory's first cook book is available: "Dad In The Kitchen" and it is published by Penguin Random House! I'll buy it just to boost his sales.

So Meghan Markle is not only hoovering LA Producer Trevor in Santa Barbara, but now she's hoovering Chef Cory as he launches his first cookbook. These men need restraining orders against Nutmeg. She is such a nightmare.

Olive Oil Cake prepared by Toronto Chef Cory Vitiello, owner owner of 3 restaurants.¹ Chef Cory was Meghan Markle's former live-in boyfriend while she dated Prince Harry.

ABOUT DAD IN THE KITCHEN

For dads, by dads—the ultimate stress-free cookbook the whole family will thank you for buying.

“I love being a dad and I love cooking with my kids! Cory and Chris are here to help dads and families get fantastic meals on the table and become better cooks in the process.” MATTY MATHESON, author of Home Style Cookery

Ready for the tips and tricks that will turn the dad in your life into a hero in the kitchen?

Highly-acclaimed chef and restaurateur Cory Vitiello can cook in a professional kitchen with his eyes closed (please don’t try this yourself), but when he became a dad, he quickly had to adjust his culinary repertoire to cater to a much more demanding clientele: his young family.

In his first book, Cory has teamed up with fellow dad and celebrated food writer Chris Johns on a crowd-pleasing collection of recipes that will instill confidence in all home cooks and develop the next generation of adventurous eaters in your family. With Cory and Chris as your guides, you’ll find ideas for any time of day, and any day of the week, such as:

Quick breakfasts to get everyone out the door on time, like Yogurt & Oatmeal Pancakes or a Zucchini Omelet with Gouda;

Light, yet satisfying lunches like Cory’s famous Flock Soba Noodle Bowl or Hot-Smoked Trout with Summer Vegetables Salad;

Go-to healthy weeknight dinners, like One-Pot Braised Turkey Meatballs or Little Pasta with Swiss Chard and Lentils

Larger weekend projects, like Shaved Brussels Sprouts & Leek Pizza or Cinnamon Buttermilk Ice Cream;

And, a whole chapter dedicated to every dad’s favorite appliance, the barbecue, so he can finally earn that “pitmaster” apron.

With recipes to catapult the cook firmly into superstardom, Dad in the Kitchen is a must-have cookbook written by dads for dads, but it’s also for anyone who might become a dad, or anyone with a dad. And, in the selfless eating-the-crusts tradition of dads everywhere, know that moms, daughters, sons, uncles, aunts, and everyone in between is encouraged to cook from its pages, too.

Dads, grab your tongs—let’s do this.

¹Flock Rotisserie, Harboard & THR & Co

[21st-century-ninja]

🎵 Constant by House of Heroes

hiiiiiiii nutmeg u definitely did not put this ask in my inbox on June 25th of last year!!!!! :D :D :D

sdfkdghlsjf i finally made myself sit down and write the last part of this and i think it turned out pretty fun so I hope you enjoy!

Constant

setting: ns1, ns8, ns16 characters: Lloyd, Gamadon wc: 999 words other tags: angst, h/c (maybe???), golden master!lloyd on ao3 here

"You're leaving."

It's not a question or an accusation.  It's just a statement, as true and as obvious as the bunk beds around them and the Fangblades a floor above and the shuddering wood beneath their feet.

Garmadon turns.  Lloyd stands a step away, hands balled into fists, eyes fixed somewhere near Garmadon's chest.

Heavily, Garmadon sets his bag on the bed.  Completely, he turns to face Lloyd, even as every instinct tells him to go.   "You're safe," he says.  "That's all I ever cared about.  That's only why I came back -- for you, son."

"So stick around for me too!" Lloyd blurts.  "What good is coming back just if you abandon me again?"

Garmadon's heart sinks.  Lloyd's expression changes.  His shoulders slump and his white-knuckled fists relax almost like they're letting go.  "There's no stopping you, huh."

"The evil in my blood demands it," Garmadon says.  It's an excuse.  It's not.  Even now, it churns within him, demanding him to hurt and harm and destroy.

A hand covers one of his.  Garmadon blinks back into focus.  Lloyd's fingers squeeze tight around his.  

"You came back for me," he says, suddenly fierce.  "That means there's got to be light in you, too, right?"  He drops Garmadon's hand and steps back, resolute.  "And if that means we've got to fight --"  He exhales harshly.  "If that means we've got to fight, then I'm gonna do everything in my power to defeat you."

Garmadon sinks to the ground.  Like this, his son's head is nearly equal in height to his own.  When did he grow so big? he wonders.  When was the last time I carried him?

When will I not be able to?

Lloyd meets his eyes squarely.  Despite it, tears mar the corners of his.  Gently, Garmadon lifts one clawed fingertip and catches them on the tip.  

"I know," he says, hushed.  "I know.  I wouldn't have it any other way."

Slowly, Lloyd grins a watery grin.  

"Promise?" he whispers.

And:

"Promise," Garmadon says.

---

There is strength in the boy.  Garmadon will give him that.

He takes another blast of energy to his shoulder, a wince that quickly turns into a grin as his power feeds on the fight.  The green ninja springs out of the way of his counterattack.  Fire shines in his eyes as he pulls away, as bright and burning as the golden power that was his demise the first time around.  He smears the back of his hand against his mouth; it comes away bloody from the cut on his lip.

He looks wild.  Feral, with the blood staining his teeth and jaw.

But the words that come tumbling from his mouth, the platitudes and pleas and whines- whatever strength the boy might have is rendered useless by his heart.

A pitiful thing, human hearts are.  Garmadon is glad to have been purified of his by his resurrection.  

Destruction boils at his fingertips.  He focuses it into another blast that sends the boy into the wall.  When he tries to stand, Garmadon punches down with a destruction-strengthened hand.  The boy collapses back to the ground with a choking cry.

Garmadon strides over to where he lies.  Bending one knee, he kneels beside him.  One green eye slips open and follows his movement.  The boy tries to say something.  It comes out in broken wheezes.  

"You," he gasps, eye trembling, searching Garmadon's face.  "Father -- light -- you--"

Garmadon's hand snaps out.  The boy gurgles as fingers close around his neck.  He thrashes weakly, but Garmadon lifts him as easily as one might a particularly pesky rodent.  His claws catch on sensitive skin; blood beads and slides down his neck like a stain.

Good.  Garmadon tilts the boy's chin up, up into the spotlight beam of the prison security and the eyes of the world.  

"There is no light in me," he hisses.  "The man you are searching for is dead."

When he pours power into his arm this time, the world erupts in purple fire.

---

There had been a legend once.  There had been a legend of one who would hold the powers of the First Spinjitzu Master, who would unite them with the element of destruction, who would bring about the end of the world as it was known.

Once, he'd assumed with everyone else that the legend was fulfilled in the Overlord's short-lived reign over New Ninjago City.

Now, burning in the rage of the supernova before him, Garmadon wonders how they ever thought that weakling could have been this.

His arm, broken and mangled, straightens itself.  Another one sprouts from his elbow, and another from his ribcage.  The sphere around Lloyd warps, concrete buildings bursting into flowers before melting like lava and flying back together in shards of glass.  

Creation and destruction, harnessed in one body.  The total ability to destroy and reshape the world at his will.  

Garmadon struggles to his feet.  Lloyd's eyes raise like empty floodlights.  They lock onto Garmadon, and energy deluges upon him like a hurricane.  His skin flakes.  Forms rise from the darkness around him: wisps of gray hair, visages of pale skin, sense memories of creaking joints and aching bones.  

Garmadon screams.  He takes a step.  Another.  Feeling disappears from his legs.  He pulls his arms close to his chest and runs.  

His body connects.  

He throws Lloyd to the ground, and the light around them bursts like a lightbulb.  

Garmadon blinks bright spots away.  Feeling, pain, rushes back into his body as Lloyd snarls beneath him.  He digs his claws in and shifts, planting one knee on Lloyd's chest and bracing his other foot on the ground.  

"Once," he snaps, "you made me promise to hold onto whatever light might still be inside me.  And damn it, Lloyd, but now you have to too!"

Lloyd screams.  Garmadon flies back, smashing into a wall.  Through spinning eyes, he sees as Lloyd stalks closer.  

Garmadon musters a grin.  "Everything in my power," he says.

Shouting, he charges forward again.

[kellys-leftovers]

Moin, re-watched the goals from yesterday and was Stina‘s really a triple nutmeg? This girl is my hero! 😎✌🏻

nobody does it like her 😂

[rosaindomitus]

Unusual muse associations

I was tagged by @silvery-bluish, thank you for the tag!

I'll tag @starrypawz, @honor-among-thieves, @boundtoanandroid, @themidnighttiger (if you've done it already I apologize!) and anyone else who just wants to hop on the train.

Aisling Brown (Fallen Hero)

SEASONING: Nutmeg (Thanks @anjiefiction)

WEATHER: Heavy wind on a cool, sunny day that makes everything just a little too brisk and bright to be comfortable.

COLOUR: All of them. Grey. No but seriously all of them.

SKY:  Those minutes at dawn and dusk where the sun, moon, and stars are all visible at once and the sky can be any conceivable color.

MAGICAL POWER: Telepathy

PLANT: Gardenias

WEAPON: Planning ahead as well as excellent improv skills.

SUBJECT:  Literature, specialization in poetry. Alternatively communications. (Lol, Sidestep)

SOCIAL MEDIA: All of them, just to be mildly annoying on.

MAKEUP PRODUCT: Lipstick

CANDY: Gummy candy of all kinds.

FEAR: Failing others. Having to exist inside her own head for more than a few minutes.

ICE CUBE SHAPE: Crushed. Good for chewing on after the drink is gone. 

METHOD OF LONG-DISTANCE TRAVEL: On foot. Failing that: a bike.

ART STYLE: Fauvism

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: Some variety of fae or spirit probably. Something like a brownie or a domovoy. Probably closer to a domovoy.

PIECE OF STATIONERY: Those long post-it notes you use to write grocery lists on.

THREE EMOJIS: 🌙😩💖

CELESTIAL BODY: The moon of course

[general-illyrin]

Thank you for tagging me, @catkin-morgs and @novelmonger!

Rules: pick a song for each letter of your URL and tag that many people.

G - "Go the Distance" from the movie Hercules

e - "Ein Wahrer Held" ("A True Hero"), a song from the German musical Artus Excalibur - Das Musical

n - "Never Say Die" by Petra

e - "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" from the musical Les Misérables

r - "Red & Black" from the musical Les Misérables

a - "Ani Jednu" ("Not One"), a song from the Czech Silm musical Fëanor a jeho synové (Feanor and His Sons) performed by Falešné společenstvo

l - "Lord of Nothing" ("ВЛАСТЕЛИН НИЧЕГО"), a song from The Last Trial rock opera, performed by the cast

I - "Isis Under the Veil" ("ИЗИДА ПОД ПОКРЫВАЛОМ"), another song from The Last Trial

l - "Long Live" by Taylor Swift

l - "Lothlórien" from The Lord of the Rings Musical

y - "You Will Be Found" from the musical Dear Evan Hanson

r - "Remember Them" from Epic: The Musical

i - "Istina" ("ИСТИНА"; "Truth"), a song from Finrod the rock opera

n - "Never Say Die" by Neoni

No-pressure tagging @ceterisparibus116, @invisiblewashboard, @windmilltothestars, @sweetmaggiemaggie, @warrioreowynofrohan, @caenith, @demonicsoul87, @the-merry-otter, and @nutmegs-tired!