#spirit of raspberry bushes

[helenapsent]

The pony era has caught up with me again, I've rewatched two seasons already….. And you know what? I got the idea to portray my favorite characters as different races in this equine setting. And you know, making Palych as a Great Seedling, or rather as Spirit of Raspberry Bushes, was probably one of the best thoughts I ever came up with

/It's not a full-blown pack, of course, because there's basically supposed to be two characters, but in the end I made the decision to just go ahead and make a pack from what I get

[withonly-sweetheart]

Reap What You Sow

part one

You've been reaped, and your partner is not the man you want to be spending a bloodbath with. But what if he's nothing like what you expected?

a/n: for the anon that's waited SO patiently for it... im still working on figuring out ur identity but im a bit slow... so.... i hope u like it i had to reread the book for this and WEUIORWPDOSWEIOR i have trauma from thg trust me

tw: major character deaths (if you can guess who ily <3) mentions of blood, gore, illnesses, blah blah all that stuff yk

wc: 7.8k

part two here!!

legacy, what is a legacy?

planting seeds in a garden,

one you’ll never get to see.

Autumn always brought the whispering winds, a tapestry of gold and crimson spinning through the forest, leaves dancing down from their lofty trees, becoming carpets of color rustling with ease.

Everyone sleeps in late today, wanting to spend as much time huddled with their family before the threat looming over you finally comes back to bite you.

The air grows crisp, a bite of cool delight, as you trudge through the fresh foliage, feet shuffling through the leaves fluttering onto your hunting boots. The last thing you need is to scare away potential game with your loud footsteps.

In the woods is the one place where your facade can fall, where you can shout all your frustrations at the lake below you, calming down as you stare down at it, blurred by your dangling legs. The ledge has always been precariously unstable, but anything to kill time before the Reaping.

Leaning back on your palms, you glance up at the sun searing your face, burning through your dark tunics that help camouflage you during hunts. You can’t consider yourself a good hunter, but at least what you bring in keeps your family from starving.

You strip the nearby bushes of their leaves, their raspberries, the leaves that you had once cultivated with your mother when she was still around. Although it wasn’t allowed, you both made a habit of sneaking into the forest after all the Peacekeepers had finished their patrols to check on your garden. 

You never told her, but you could never resist plucking a few unripe berries from their steadily growing stems, now grown wild and untamed. The taste of the young, still growing fruit from your childhood still lingers in your mind, and over six years later, make it near impossible for you to enjoy the sweetness of the ripe raspberries now.

A melodious chirp breaks through your thoughts, and you twist over your shoulder to see a familiar mockingjay approaching. Its vibrant blue and gray feathers shimmer in the dappled sunlight as it hops closer, a curious glint in its round, beady eyes. With a gentle nudge, you offer it a ripe berry, watching as it eagerly pecks at the fruit, savoring the succulent juices with delicate precision.

“You’re chipper today, aren’t you?” you ask it, keeping your voice light. Just as you expect, the muttation tweets back in the same tone, as if repeating your words back to you.

Only, coming from such a free, unshackled spirit, it means nothing.

<><><><>

The nicer part of your district is in the area shadowed by the forest, where none of the residents dare to step foot into what they deem unsafe. If only they knew the danger of hunger.

You pass the bakery, catching the eye of the baker’s son, uninterested, casting shadows on his face as he glances down at his mother’s feet. Her shouts are audible through the thin glass showcasing the elegantly decorated cakes.

You don’t know the boy, but you feel pity for him. Not once in the years following your mother’s death has your father raised his voice at you. He has resigned to heavy sighs of disappointment, which sting more than angry words, you’ll admit.

You stand before the same house in the Victor’s Village, the nicest houses of the entire district, crammed into one courtyard. Most of the houses are empty due to there only being two Victors in the history of the Games; Haymitch Abernathy, a drunken man you don’t socialize with, and Leon’s older brother, whose name you aren’t bothered or inclined to learn.

You raise your hand to knock but pause, praying he doesn't answer, that he’s not home, and that his mother, a much kinder, forgiving woman, comes to the door. After an agonizing moment, the door creaks open and, just your luck, his imposing form fills the frame above.

The first thing you notice is the red, blaring welt resting calmly on his face. You faintly wonder what happened before realizing that you don’t care. Neither does he, apparently.

“Back to grovel, little bird?” he sneers. 

“Actually, maybe I’ll just head to Haymitch,” you reply, making a show of the flimsy basket holding multiple, freshly snared rabbits. “He might have a use for fresh meat.”

You don’t miss the way Leon immediately clears his throat, leaning against the doorframe. “I suppose we could make a deal.”

Eventually you’re satisfied with the amount of money in your hands, and Leon looks equally ravished as he nods to you politely before closing the door in your face. You catch his eyes darting to your lips just as it creaks shut fully.

Whatever’s wrong with him shouldn’t bother you, right?

So why does it?

<><><><>

Chris raises an eyebrow at the offering. You nudge it towards him, and a smile slowly spreads across his face, overtaking his expression.

“It’s taken quite a while, huh?” he teases.

“You know how much it means to me,” you cheese. “And I want you to have it, just in case…”

“You’re not getting reaped,” he says, as if he’s already predicted who will be safe, like he knows. “Your name isn’t even in there that many times.”

You nod, face warm. "Just in case."

His grin fades. "Don't say that. Your name is drawn just a few times."

"Still a chance," you mutter grimly. "24 slips is 24 too many."

Chris takes your hands in his. "Listen to me. I survived, didn't I? You're stronger than any tribute here. You'll come back and we'll hunt together, I promise it."

His steady gaze gives you strength. You force a smile. "Okay. And may the odds..."

Your hunting partner, close friend, embraces you. "The odds don't matter. You do. Stay strong - I'll see you after."

Of course, the odds seem to be planting themselves directly against you. But you don’t mention that as you walk to the square, shoulder to shoulder, trusting Chris enough to watch your siblings as your father makes low conversation with the other miners.

<><><><>

The odds definitely hate you.

When they call your name, no one moves. You can feel the girl next to you stiffen, as if sensing your breath cut short, hand brushing against yours as you weave your way through the perfectly aligned rows of sixteen year old kids, kids that you went to school with.

If it were any other reaping, you would’ve looked down at them with scorn, glaring at them with a scowl, because no one wants to die, but no one volunteered for you. But the Quarter Quell brings with it new surprises, one being that the tributes reaped may not be replaced.

You suppose you should be glad it isn’t one of your siblings, because where you stand a chance, they would die immediately. Admitting this to yourself is how you temper your own fate. On the other hand, the other twist the Quell brings is that if you die in the Games, guess who also suffers?

Your family is publicly executed. You wish a slow and painful death to whoever thought of that, to President Snow, for picking it. Watching the competitions every year was something you could never stomach, choosing instead to cower in the other room, hands planted against your ears to block out the sickening screams of the dying tributes on screen.

"May the odds be ever in your favor," Effie says with a grin far too jovial for the situation, and you know that its her job to encourage you, but they ring hollow given what lies ahead. 

As you walk toward the stage, your breathing comes quick and shallow. A boy with dark hair catches your gaze, his expression as grim as yours. "It will be over soon," he murmurs, though you're not sure if he means the reaping or your life.

Reaching the steps, you turn to face the crowd, fists clenched. The escort swirls the strips of paper in the empty fish bowl, as if this is simply a game to her. She pinches one between her fingers and drags it out slowly before unfurling it and reading aloud the name.

“Leon Kennedy,” she declares. 

Of course getting reaped isn’t the last of your misfortunes. Although you don’t directly know him, you know what he’s capable of. He climbs on stage beside you, jaw working as if chewing over angry words. 

"No use raging at them now," you mutter under your breath.

Leon barks a short, bitter laugh. "I guess you're right. Small comfort, that." 

You don’t speak after that, settling into tense silence as your escort waits for the applause that never comes. The depressing gazes of all your loved ones, the people you know, and the people who don’t know you exist, proves to be too much, so you shift your eyes to the ground, pointed at your toes.

There is one more pair of eyes that land on you, eyes that you don’t wish to meet. But when Effie requests for the “lucky kids” to shake hands, you force yourself to drag your gaze from the ground, up his slender legs, the tendon that stretches when he looks down at you, challenging you silently, to his fingertips outstretched, waiting for your hand.

And when you finally shake on it, you remember just who he is to you.

Leon.

<><><><><>

You freeze in your movements, cradling the assortment of berries closer to your chest, the handkerchief tickling your chin. Pale, icy eyes trail down your body, sizing you up, searing everywhere they grace.

You know him, but he doesn’t know you. You’ve seen him, one of the nicer looking kids at your school, always well groomed, arriving to class on time and getting only the best grades.

But no one is perfect, and his flaws are in his arrogance, which doesn’t get any better when all the girls fawn over him, tripping over one another to catch even a flit of his eyes. What would they think now, of him watching you, a poor, peasant girl. You have to hold back a smile at the faint thought passing your mind.  

“Well,” he remarks, unable to hold back the smirk that tugs at his lips, “looks like I’ve finally caught the little bird pecking at my garden, hm?” You flush madly. So he has noticed the previous times you’ve snuck through the fence, collecting his family’s plants. 

"I…I meant no harm," you say meekly, lowering your gaze. "I was only gathering bits of food to help feed my poor family." Playing the pity card is a new low, even for you, but the consequences of mistakes ring through the square often, burned in your eyes, the whine of a leather whip, the sound it makes when it meets tender flesh.

"Hmm, is that so?" he considers, stroking his chin, grinning. "Maybe I’ll let it go, just this once. But you’ll have to pay up."

“I have no money,” you say quietly. “I… cannot pay you, at least not right now. Please, just two weeks-”

He cuts you off with a wave of his hand, eyes fixing on your trembling lips. "A kiss, sweet bird, and I'll let your theft go. What do you say?”

Perhaps you’ll suffice to get whipped. Anything over that.

“No,” you say firmly, stepping away, further into the sanctuary of the forest. “I won’t do that.”

“So you won’t mind if I tell the Peacekeepers?” he muses.

“I only took a little!” you plead.

“And I’m not asking for much in return, am I?”

You hesitate, torn between duty and danger. But survival demands sacrifice. Holding back a troubled, irritated groan, you allow him to step closer, lift your chin and capture your mouth with his own, firm but fleeting.

"Now fly home to your nest, little birdie,” he taunts as he breaks away from him, wiping your lips frantically, trying to get rid of the sweet taste of fresh bread and butter that mingled from his tongue to yours.

Does he kiss everyone like this? So hard, fast, as if he’s trying to consume you whole? You feel pity for all the girls he’s left behind with broken hearts, like lost puppies following him everywhere. 

The last thing you expect is to be longing for it again, reaching for the feeling of being held like that, of being wanted, desirable. And you find that nowhere else but with him.

Of course, that feeling only dims slightly when the Peacekeepers knock at your door the next day, pretending to lecture you about theft, but there are no consequences, surprisingly. You suspect it must be because half of your best customers are the officials, the ones meant to enforce the rules, since everyone in the area is desperate for meat.

You did what he asked.

He ratted you out, either way.

So why can’t you stop thinking about him?

<><><><>

Your father’s weary face is what greets you first in the velvet setting of the Justice Building, before flurrying footsteps escape the guard’s clutches and long, thin arms wrap around you, tears immediately staining the flimsy fabric of your tunic.

“I’m so sorry, dear,” he whispers to you, and as the twins reluctantly pull away so he can gather you in his arms, embracing you to what, horrifyingly, feels like the last time you’ll inhale his musty, familiar coal scent that lingers everywhere in the house.

“Chris will bring you food,” you instruct as soon as he meets your eyes, stepping away. “Don’t turn it down. When I get back-”

“When?” he muses, a sad light twinkling in his aged eyes. “You’re this confident?”

“You heard them!” you hiss, exasperated. “I have to come back. They’ll kill you if I don’t.”

“Don’t worry about us,” he insists. “I’ve already planned everything out.”

“What does that even mean?” If it were anyone else, you would’ve missed the subtle flit of his eyes to the Peacekeepers standing to attention behind you, listening in to your conversation. You realize there is something he cannot say with them here.

So you soften your face, cradle the twins into one last hug and use that as an excuse to pull him back in. Your father’s voice is so soft you can barely make out what he’s saying over the twins’ sobbing.

“District 13, we’re going to find them.”

“They’re dead,” you murmur. 

“If you come back, you know where to find us,” he says, adorning a sweet, solemn smile on his face as he withdraws, adjusting the collar of your tunic where it slants to one side. “Do you understand?”

The way he’s speaking makes it clear that he could be talking about anything now, so you attempt to match his expression, keeping your tone light. “Yes, Father. I’ll try my best.”

He pats your shoulder, nodding. “I know you will, my girl.”

When they call that time’s up, you ignore the twins’ protests and kiss them both on their cheeks, waving goodbye to their tear streaked, chubby faces, trying to imprint the image in your head forever.

The next person that comes in is someone you don’t expect. It’s Claire, the younger Redfield sibling; your hunting partner rarely discusses his little sister, so you don’t know her aside from seeing her during classes.

She offers no meager response, no subtle greeting, only grips your hands tightly, entwining your fingers with her own, pulling you closer. “Well? What’s your strategy?”

“I’m sorry?”

“For the Games?”

“I mean, I have to train hard-”

“No.”

“No?” You frown at her command, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“There’s only one thing that you have to do,” she explains. “It’s how Leon’s brother won the Games way back when.”

“And that is…?” you prompt.

Her eyes are steely, unforgiving. “Keep Leon alive. The rest will come later.”

You’re frozen into a shock for about a second before you harshly release her hands, rough with years of hard labor, stepping away from her. “Excuse me?”

“You have to fool him into believing that you want an alliance!” she grumbles. “And I don’t think I can take any more of Chris’s groveling if you die.”

“Chris doesn’t grovel.” A corner of her lip quirks up.

“You don’t live with him,” she retorts, albeit gently. “Listen, don’t get yourself killed out there. You’re a smart girl. I know you can win.”

And she’s grinning and gone, a shitload of emotions dumped onto you, and a new outlook on the Games, and your potential partner. You’ve seen that method multiple times from the Victors, however convincing, and you nod to yourself.

You've got a winning shot if you have him, you know that.

You let a lazy smile overtake your face.

Well, at least until you kill him.

<><><><>

Of all the people in the Capitol, your stylist, by far, has been your favorite.

Your hands tremble as Cinna leads you to your prep team. Effie assured you this is his first year as a stylist, and he has "big ideas" to make an impression.

"Everything will be alright," he says gently, meeting your fearful eyes in the mirror. His deft hands make quick work of transforming you into someone else, someone you don’t recognize.

As your raw nerves are plucked and primed, Cinna talks soothingly of his plans. "The fire theme is overdone. I want to show you not as a beast to fear, but as a symbol of hope that cannot be extinguished."

Looking in the mirror, you gasp - you’re swathed elegantly in a flowing carbon-fiber gown that resembles burning coal embers. Wings of delicate gold wire sprout from your shoulder blades like a phoenix rising.

"Cinna, it's...incredible," you breathe.

He smiles warmly. "Panem will remember you, but not as a killer. You’re going to be our dream."

Your old fear returns as you reach the chariot. But seeing Cinna’s admiring grin from across the stable, you stand tall, finding courage in his vision.

And then Leon approaches, flanked by his stylist and prep team. They beam at you, drinking in your matching outfits, which you don’t remember agreeing to. But even you can’t disagree that you stand out from the starkly contrasting duos of tributes. 

Your heart pounds as the chariot ride nears. Catching you tense up, your panicked expression, Cinna tilts your head up with his finger. 

"Chin up, girl on fire.” He exhales. “Own who you are."

You climb up the ivory steps, paintings of flames licking the side of the chariot, spreading onto the horses’ flanks, matching the design on your perfectly trimmed, crescent shaped nails.

“Girl on fire, hm?” Leon says jokingly, although his voice is quiet. Neither of you have interacted since the Reaping, and it feels strange to be talking to a man that once held your life in his beautiful, beautiful hands.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” you mutter as the chariot lurches forward, unused to the sudden jolt of movement that doesn’t require you to use your legs.

“Seriously?” You lift your head just enough to catch Leon giving you a concerned look, just as the new day’s rays hit his face, bathing his skin in an ethereal glow. You don’t expect him to tug you upright as the crowd gets a glimpse of you, entwining your fingers tight with his.

The way he clutches your hand makes you smile, drunk on a feeling you shouldn’t have, so you use your free hand to wave. The roar shakes you to your core - but it's not hatred, it's adoration. You’ve stunned them all. You beam at the cheering colors.

You test out blowing a kiss to one part of the crowd, where you see a little girl jump and scream for your attention, and everyone reaches out as if they can grab it, holding it close to their chests, as if there’s something caught in the space between their fingers and palm.

It gives you a sense of unmatched power, knowing that everyone is looking at you, that the Careers are definitely glaring at you, because they are so used to getting all the attention that now that you are captivating everything with the golden, flaming arches unfurling from your back, they aren’t pleased.

For once, you’re glad that you have Leon to grip, eyes flickering from the firelight of your wings, dancing down his simple, elegant suit that seems to blend with the darkness and reflect the flames.

You realize that his hand has gone white, so you move to release your grip, but he pulls you back, a pleading look mingling with the fireflies blinking in his waning eyes.

“Please,” he whispers. “I might fall off.”

You laugh softly, but the cameras don’t miss anything. You both have been getting a significant amount of screen time compared to the other tributes, so when you finish your rounds, waving up at President Snow, the distaste curling your tongue disappears when Leon hops down and offers you his hand.

You accept it gratefully, cameras lingering on you both before switching to another duo. While Cinna gently removes the flaming wings, smiling proudly, Leon twists to grin at you, so genuine you could fool yourself into thinking that everything that comes out of his mouth is true.

“You’re pretty cute when you’re on fire,” he says simply. “You should wear gold more often.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you say before you can stop yourself. And then you remind yourself of what Claire said - he’ll be planning to kill you. You have to kill him before he can get to you.

So because whatever you sow, you must reap, you lean closer, knowing all the tributes are glowering at you, the attention undoubtedly set directly on you, distributed unevenly. You cup his cheek gently, deliberately, enjoying the flash of confusion rushing through his eyes.

And you peck a soft kiss to his jawline.

<><><><>

Just like the opening ceremonies, your training uniforms correlate with one another’s perfectly - looking out of place with everyone else wearing totally different things.

"Remember, these next days will determine your survival," Haymitch says as we enter the Training Center.

You steel yourself, knowing the horrors that await below. But seeing Leon’s steady, calm gaze as you descend among the other tributes, sizing each other up like prey, you realize that there’s nothing to doubt.

Rather than cower, you both stand tall and match strides, sticking with each other through every station. Of course, there are things that Leon is better at than you lack in, and vice versa. But instead of tripping you up, he helps you through it, just as you return the favor by explaining how to properly tie a knot, identify edible plants and start a fire.

No one will doubt your alliance. If anything, you wish for people to join your team, however temporary. But there is only a shadow trailing you everywhere, a boy that reminds you of your little brother, with his square, soft jawline and wide, innocent eyes.

He can’t be older than nine, so you take pity on him and keep your voice louder so he can overhear. Against all odds, you don’t want him to die.

Just like you don’t want Leon to die. You catch yourself watching him more and more, oftentimes keeping an eye on him while he stretches, admiring the tight coils of his body, so perfectly sculpted, like a statue from marble.

He must feel you looking, because he cranes his neck to spot you peering at him, then chuckles as you rush to finish your double knot from rope.

Leon doesn’t miss any chances to make snarky comments, whether it be during spear throwing, or the twenty minutes spared for lunch. 

But you never underestimate how dangerous he can be. Glimmer gives you the barest definition of a sneer, and within moments, with just a flick of his wrist, a knife sails past the tribute's throat. 

Her expression, plastered with shock, shows her thoughts.

Message received.

Slowly but surely, day by day, you earn everyone’s respect, however hesitant or however grudgingly, but you never miss the way they whisper as you stroll past, conversing with one another about which activity you’re going to excel at today.

“So, tell me.” Haymitch leans back in the dinner chair, hands resting on his stomach as the hazy look in his eyes fades away, the effects of the wine he had thirty minutes ago wearing off. “What can you do?”

“She’s the hunter.” Leon shrugs. “I can’t do much.”

“You carry around all that coal,” you point out. You’ve watched him from the forest, where he wheels the barrows filled with heavy, dusty blocks of coal back and forth, a fine layer of coal dust settling over his skin.

“Of course. My greatest weapon,” he deadpans. “Coal.”

“I meant your strength,” you grumble. “Be optimistic, can you?”

“You’re telling me.” Leon chuckles.

“Enough bickering,” Haymitch groans. “So, hunter, what’s your special gift?”

“I can… uh… well…”

“You’re not making this easy for me, are you?” Haymitch shakes his head, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Can’t you use a bow?”

You shake your head.

“Knives? Daggers? Spears?”

“Leon can use a knife,” you add. 

“Real helpful,” Haymitch drones. “Okay, here’s what’s about to happen. Leon, you’re going to teach her how to use a knife. And she’ll teach you to hunt. Deal?”

You’re pretty sure that’s what you’ve been doing, but for the last day of training, you agree to at least try your mentor’s advice.

Which is how you find yourself in this situation.

You sneak a glance back at Leon, who seems occupied, so you turn your attention back to the knife, gingerly picking it up and trying to mime a stabbing motion on an invisible target. Your face flushes crimson when you hear some restrained laughter behind you.

"Shut up!" you cross your arms and pout, turning away from him. "You’re supposed to be teaching me, not laughing at me."

You hear footsteps behind you, and before you can look over your shoulder, he's crossed the room and is standing against you, his arms encasing yours and fingers gracefully planting themselves against the hilt of the knife.

You glance up at him, but he clicks his tongue.

"Eyes down here, birdie," he says, and his low voice in your ear sends flames shooting from where his fingers meet yours and up your spine, straight to your head. Your chest twists as you suddenly have a name for the fire that ignites in the pit of your stomach, unmistakable and blunt against everything else fighting for a spot in your head. "Hold it like this."

"Got it," you mumble, your voice coming out even quieter than expected. Your pulse thrums under his, blond hair brushing the side of your cheek, azure eyes darting from you to the knife.

Leon abruptly pulls away, and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. He takes an edged breath, and your heart slows. You palm the knife in your hand, turning to face him and twisting it through your fingers slowly.

"Careful," he murmurs. "You might cut yourself."

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you attempt dryly. 

Neither of you laugh.

<><><><><>

It irks you, to say the least, that none of the Gamemakers are paying attention to you. They’d rather make small talk about how divine the feast spread out in front of them is, or what they’ll be doing over the weekend, and it pisses you off.

So you reckon that to get their attention, you’ll need to show them you’re worth watching.

Their obliviousness makes you smile inwardly as you will your heartbeat to slow as you stalk towards the jovial crowd, drawing closer with each steady breath. Under cover of noise and distracted chatter, you were gaining.

The group is joking about how no one has impressed them yet. You’re about to change that. You crawl the final length on hands and knees, careful touch mapping the terrain so each advancement felt natural. Upwind, you find cover behind a silk curtain draped over a table and readied yourself. When laughter rises loudest, you strike.

Your arms wrap tight around a target, not quite caring who it is, twisted in an inescapable hold, your other hand covering their mouth to muffle their cries. The rest of the Gamemakers gape at you as you release the woman in your grasp.

She stumbles away, collapsing to her knees, gasping for air. The other examiners stare in both amazement and fear, searching your eyes soundlessly. 

“Thank you for your consideration? May I be excused?” Without waiting for an answer, you bow slightly.

And you take a step back, letting the shadows accentuate your face, saluting with a grin before melting back into the shadows, feeling worse about yourself than you were before.

You don’t expect the smile on Haymitch’s face, nor the slight amusement on Effie’s when they exchange a look as you explain your story.

“Well,” Leon says with a huff. “Now mine sounds boring.”

“You let your anger get the best of you,” Haymitch deduces, nodding. “Good. We can use some spirit.”

“But you said I needed to compose myself.”

“You’re forgetting something.”

“What?”

Haymitch leans back, a faraway look coming over him as if recalling another time, another Games. "We’re both still human. It’s in our nature to best those looking down on us.”

There seems to be an underlying meaning to what he says, but you don’t bother trying to figure out what it is. Instead, you tilt your head at Leon, gesturing for him to continue.

“How’d you do?” you ask politely.

“Not bad,” he admits. “Nothing showy like you. I just did what I did to Glimmer.”

“Immediate 12,” you say, shaking your head in fake remorse. “You exposed yourself to her, too.”

“But she’s pretty dumb,” Leon argues. “I think she’ll be out quick.”

He’s not wrong, you can say that much. There’s definitely competition, you know that, but there are certain tributes you know you don't need to stress over.

Leon admitting to his inferior performance startles you. He's changing, adapting to the game of puppetry they're slowly starting to implement onto you, preparing you for the games.

And you keep your eyes forward.

<><><><><>

In the room, stylists twist Leon's hair into elaborate patterns that fall over his eyes, casting shadows over his pale blue irises. He gives you a crooked smile with the side of his face as a makeup artist dabs his cheekbones with powder.

Leon's wearing a sweater that matches yours, except unlike you, he looks like he's been attending private school over the summer, spending his days playing polo and betting on horse races, a luxury only District 1 has.

You don't understand why Leon needs makeup. He already looks fine, but you suppose "fine" won't suffice for the Capitol’s games. You realize you’re glaring at him and quickly look away.

"Alright, let's go over this," Haymitch drawls, standing near the edge of the couch you’re sitting on. "You need to make it seem like you've been close friends with him, kept in touch for a long time."

"Got it," you say, slightly bitter. "Why couldn't you do this?"

"Because I’m not your mother."

"Aren’t you mentoring us?”

"That depends on how today goes," Haymitch says, but a small smile has crept onto his face. He shakes his head and glances down at you, eyes flitting to the complex camera system. "Do what you need to. Remember what's at stake here."

You nod and mimic the action before he walks away. Someone shoos all of Leon's artists away, sending them scrambling like a school of fish. And they’ve called your names, the district interviews being set with both tributes. In what world they assumed this would help the kids about to die to open up, you couldn’t imagine.

You see none of this confusion reflected in the preppy interviewer, Caesar Flickerman who is sitting near you, smiling eerily.

"So, you two, you look cozy over there," he says, waggling his eyebrows in a way that makes you want to throw up. "Let’s hear a little about you two, huh?" He turns, wide eyes boring into you.

Your intro is somewhat unsteady, the way he’s worded the question throwing you off. "Well, uh… we’re…”

"We've been friends for a long time," Leon finishes for you, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs. It sends warning bells ringing in your head, the informal posture, but you only hear the crowd swooning, so maybe it has something to do with his charming personality. He smiles warmly at the camera and the interviewer's own only grows.

"You’ve been friends since your childhood, yes?” he asks, directing a pen towards the both of you.

"Uh..." Leon's eyes cut to you.

"Yes," you say for him. "We've pretty much known each other for our entire lives."

"Mhm, yup," Leon affirms.

"Now, here's the biggest question on everyone's mind," he says, leaning forward in her seat. "Your story, from what I can tell, has its rocky start, but from what we can see on the cameras, something is blossoming between you. I mean, you both got an 11! Something doesn’t seem quite right.” As if on cue, scripted, the audience laughs. Caesar waggles his eyebrows cartoonishly. “Care to explain?" He lets out a boyish giggle.

"I'm... sorry?" Leon tilts his head, and by the confused look in his eyes you see he doesn't understand the full length of what the man said.

"I understand what you're implying," you begin, “but-”

"Wait, what, you do?" Leon turns to you, raising an eyebrow. "What does he mean?"

"Go ahead. Tell him what I mean," he says, long, curved eyelashes fluttering. He waves the camera over and you feel the gazes of what feels like the entirety of Panem on you.

It's Leon. He'll laugh at the implication and wave it off. He’s just some guy. You don’t care what he thinks, do you?

"He, along with the rest of whoever 'everyone' is, thinks we're together." The room holds its breath, Leon's expression unchanging. Then he smiles.

"Are we?"

"No, stupid."

"Women," he says, scoffing and turning to look at the other side. The camera zooms in on his face, and you can see a smile creep onto the side of his face.

"Leon has very readable emotions," you say, immediately getting his attention. He snaps back to you, eyes meeting yours in a challenging glare. You sit forward and he copies your movements, his glare cast downward as yours is cast upward. Your faces are so close that your noses could be touching.

"My lovely partner, as you can see, has visible reactions to everything I do. I guess I'm just too handsome for her to leave alone," he says smugly, a smirk curving his lips.

"Fuck off, you self-absorbed prick."

Leon leans forward. "Wow, are we giving them something to talk about?"

You meet his gaze without flinching. "No.”

He smiles strangely. "Your readable reaction says otherwise."

Your temper flashes. "Don't flatter yourself. I couldn't care less.”

“So, you two, hm?” Caesar Flickerman interrupts, glancing at you both, raising an eyebrow inquisitively, most likely trying to change the subject. “I didn’t expect that, now did I?”

“Neither did I,” Leon mumbles, trying to make it seem like a joke with a quirk of his mouth. “But here we are.”

Since you’re not responding, the interviewer keeps the questions to Leon, who responds with as much wit as he can muster.

“You should be proud to call such a…” Caesar struggles to grasp the right word for your personality. “Fierce young lady, your partner.”

“She isn’t my partner,” Leon replies casually.

“Then who does she belong to?” Caesar leans in, propping his head on his elbow. The fact you’re being objectified by this man, while you sit right in front of him, makes you want to lean over and punch him, crack that chiseled jaw, but Leon just scoffs.

“No one. She’s her own girl.”

You stare up at Leon, who looks back down at you from the side of his eye, slanting to meet your height. Something about that comment feels both complementary and insulting, as if he can’t decide on his opinion of you.

Maybe he’s trying to make up for what he said earlier. Or maybe he doesn’t care. You’ll admit that it bothers you slightly, the fact that he’s so unbothered by everything and that anything he says doesn’t pass you.

Then, finally, your interview is over, the buzzer ringing in your ears.

“That seems about all the time we have, folks.”

You don't know what to expect, but it's not the roar of protests that greet you as you stand and exit the stage, seething but as formal as you can manage.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Haymitch doesn't look any happier than you feel, but you dismiss it with a shrug.

“They could perceive it as…” Cinna shakes his head. “Trouble in paradise?”

“What part of this situation is even close to paradise?” You blanch. 

“The food?” Flavius suggests, voice as close to a helpful chirp during a quiet hunt, doing nothing to quash the anger that sears the back of your neck.

“Wait, seriously, listen to me-”

“The last thing I’m doing is listening to you, Leon,” you hiss. You turn back to your mentor, hands brushing.

"You both are excused," Haymitch mutters at your expression.

<><><><>

But something doesn’t sit right with you, so you storm over to Leon’s room, knocking rapidly.

A loose white shirt hangs low beneath his hips, covering his thighs and presumably shorts. He opens the door with blurry eyes, rubbing them, blinking down at you, tilting his head in confusion. “Need something, sweetheart?”

You scowl at the pet name and push your way past him. He gets the idea and closes the door behind you, locking it before turning to face you. His fingers tangle his already tousled mess of golden hair as he exhales slowly.

“What… happened back there?” you ask tentatively. 

“Haymitch… he wants us to play the romance card.”

A beat of silence passes. “Even if not one, but both of us die?”

“I guess it brings in more sponsors?” Leon shrugs helplessly, yawning, mouth stretching into an ‘o’. “Is that all you have to say?”

“What you said back there, did you mean it?” Leon arches an eyebrow. “About me… being… my own person?”

“I mean, yeah?” He cups the back of his neck and stretches, flexing his bicep. “It’s not like we’re complete strangers.”

“Of course not,” you mumble. “How could I ever forget?”

Leon chuckles. “Don’t tell me you still haven’t gotten over that.”

“Might be simple to you,” you say, “but I could’ve died.”

“Because I kissed you?”

“Because you ratted me out!”

Leon shakes his head. “That’s where you messed up. I didn’t say anything.”

You pause. Everything that you’ve assumed about him over the past six years, judging his character because of the strong belief he put your life in danger, seems to vanish. “You didn’t?”

“That was my brother. He saw us.”

“He did?” you exclaim.

“You didn’t think you were the only one to suffer the consequences, did you?” He attempts to keep his tone airy, but there’s something heavy behind it. Immediately, your mind goes to the morning of the Reaping, to the red on his face, to the close bond between the baker’s wife and Leon’s mother, and you make the connection.

“Oh, shit, Leon,” you murmur. “I’m so sorry.”

“Still want to be coached separately?”

Your lips twist into a grimace. “That’s not what this is about.”

The only response you receive is a small shrug. “Anyways, there’s nothing you could’ve done about it.” His eyes sparkle with unshed tears, but he keeps his voice steady. “I hope you know that even if you hadn’t… you know, kissed me, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

He ducks his head, not wanting to see your hesitant nod.

“I’m not a bad guy,” he says quietly, as if trying to convince himself. “It’s just… all anyone would talk to me about was my brother, the second Victor of District 12. There was no one for me.

“And you came into my life, just… there, and you were separate from the life that I had, all adoration for my brother. You gave me attention.”

“But what are we?” you press, more insistent. “I can’t play a game with you like that. I need to hear it straight.”

"You know what we are," Leon says, meeting your gaze. His eyes, however much they've darkened over the years, are still his, full of confusion. There's something different now, though. There's something guarding them, some kind of emotional barrier to keep from showing too much. Something he’s keeping.

"I used to think I did," you say. "But I don't think I do anymore."

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means.”

"I don't know." Leon mumbles. "How am I supposed to know? You don't fucking tell me anything, and it’s been almost a decade." His feet shuffle on the floor.

"A decade?" You laugh dryly. "Well, we are getting pretty damn close to that milestone, aren't we?"

Leon’s eyes flash dangerously. “You know it isn't that simple.”

“But it is,” you retort. "You don’t care.”

Leon leans in closer, voice dropping to a fierce whisper. “If you think I don't care, then you’re more naive than I thought. You have no idea what was really at stake.”

You match his tone, eyes glittering. “Enlighten me then. Go on, tell me how much you care."

"Why can't you just-

You lift your chin defiantly. “Just what, Leon?”

A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Get out.”

“You know what?” You brush past him, feeling his eyes linger on your back as you open the door. You don’t spare him another glance. “I think I will.”

<><><><>

The gong sounds and you launch from your metal circle, sprinting toward the Cornucopia with the others. Adrenaline surges through my veins as you spot a backpack and dagger nearby.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see one of the boys tackle another to the ground. A sickening crunch and the cannon fires - the first death in mere seconds.

Grabbing the supplies you were eyeing, you spin to flee but freeze in horror. Two Careers have Leon pinned, knives flashing as he fights like a cornered animal. Without thought, you whip your new dagger at the nearest attacker. It sinks hilt-deep in their neck with a wet thunk.

There is only a moment of shock before Leon retaliates, slashing at the second boy. Before long, they’re both crumpled on the ground as Leon picks through their freshly deceased bodies.

Your eyes meet amid the screams and clashing steel. For an instant, understanding passes between you blood-soaked survivors. Then you nod, turn, and run as fast as you can from the massacre, finding safety from the pounding of boots.

You rush into the thickening forest as more cannons boom, signaling the end of the initial slaughter. None pursue you further into the shadows of the trees. You slump against a trunk, chest heaving.

And yet your thoughts wander to how Leon is faring, to the crestfallen look on his face that surely must adorn his expression, because you could’ve allied with one another.

But you know it’s best this way.

There can only be one winner, after all.

<><><><>

You’ve had your eye on her since you woke up. She’s too loud to miss, like a clumsy deer separated from its family. She crashes into everything, making a racket, and she risks giving away your location, too.

So you track her.

Your footsteps are light, albeit not completely quiet. Still, your victim, the girl from District 5, has not noticed, and you adapt to the shadows, moving as one with them, as if you’re truly just back on a hunt in District 12.

How proud would Chris be of you? He would finally accept your hunting tread, finally praise you, stop teasing you for scaring away potential game. You long for his comforting presence here, but he is not here, and the one person who is…

Well, the person who just happens to be one of your next targets.

But for now, you watch the girl that stalks towards another clearing. She waits, cautiously glancing around every two seconds, wasting precious time. You’re just about to take another step towards her when you notice the subtle change, unmissable to your trained eyes; the shift of colors in one specific area.

The leaves are brighter, less natural, as if placed there intentionally. You do not say a word as the girl fails to see the thin strings glinting sunlight in her way, sharp and silent, waiting for her. One at her feet trips her, and before she can catch herself, the strings slice into her skin. She lies there, whimpering, held up by the threads, before the one pressing at her stomach finally cuts through.

She tumbles down, dripping crimson. A moan passes her lips, pained, like an injured animal, but somehow, she manages to take a breath and twist her body around, craning her neck to assess the damage.

For a second, it seems as though all is okay. And then the lower half of her body slips down, and crumples a few inches away from her. Her entire digestive system, coated in glistening blood, splays out in front of her, slumping into the dead leaves.

From this angle, you can see her open her mouth to scream, but only a gurgle comes out as her mouth fills with blood. She catches sight of her bow, the one she wore to the interview, the one you had noticed her clutching dearly to her chest, lying on near her fingertips, and she strains to grab it.

Something snaps in her neck and she twitches for a moment before going still. Everything goes silent, as if nature itself is witnessing this moment.

The beautiful girl whose clumsiness was her downfall, whose name I never knew lies on the ground, a horrible, gruesome sight left of the woman who was once a daughter, a sister, a friend. She does not move again.

But the shadows around her do. And from those same shadows I hide in emerge the Careers, brutish, beefy boys that I had not paid much attention to at training, because you were too busy looking at that little brat.

You wonder which one of them has the brains to set up such a complicated, subtle trap, so cleverly placed that you might’ve missed it if she hadn’t already died. Just as you resolve to watch them cackle at the poor, dead girl, you notice another figure slip from the shadows.

And once they step into the sunlight, dappling their face in aligned patterns, you almost drop your knife onto the ground.

The boy standing there is someone you don't expect.

Leon.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hey! I've gotten super into solo rpgs but I tend to find combat boring. Are there fantasy themed rpgs with less focus on combat that you would recommend? (If they are soloable, that's also a win!)

THEME: Fantasy Solo Non-Combat.

Hello friend, thank you very much for your ask! I'm going to direct you to two Solo-themed game recommendations first, before I dive into today's recs.

Character-Focused Solo Games: Games that focus on character-building. Lighthearted Solo Games: Fun, non-serious solo games.

A Year in the Spirit World, by ToriBee.

The wind rustles through the emerald canopy above as you open your eyes to an unfamiliar world. You're lying on a bed of lush moss, the gentle warmth of the Spirit World sun caressing your face. Around you, a forest of towering ancient trees, each pulsating with an otherworldly glow. It's ethereal, enchanting, and unlike anything you've ever seen.

Drawing from a deck of fate, you'll encounter spirits, creatures, and natural phenomena as enchanting as they are daunting. Each encounter might test your spirit, challenge your harmony with this world, or tempt you to act against your values.

There is some combat in this game, but it certainly doesn’t seem to be the focus. The game is about survival, but you’re as likely to be navigating social situations as you are to be fighting enemies. What I like about this game is the spirit companion who will travel the world with you: there are four different options, each of them cute and enchanting. If you love Studio Ghibli films, you should definitely check out A Year in the Spirit World!

The Goblin Thought, by Kai Medina.

The goblin hoard - a pile of goods and trinkets - is a place of greed, yes. But it's the same greed that thrives throughout this land of men and beetles. It's the allowed selfishness that helps us learn and grow, walk and run, screech and scramble. The hoard is the goblin's memory.

The Goblin Thought is a unique and engaging journaling game that combines chance and narrative to create a compelling story. Players take on the role of a goblin, collecting memories and items in their hoard as they navigate through a world of wonder and danger, allowing for growth and change. With a deck of cards and a six-sided die, each turn presents new challenges and opportunities for creative storytelling, drawing, and reflection. 

This game is placed in a fantasy setting, but with a larger purpose. It’s both a journaling game and a thought experiment, a chance to place yourself in the shoes of someone whose history exists within the hoard they have accumulated. Each card you draw from a deck has three prompts attached to it, so you have the potential to play this game (and build a history) for a very long time.

Little Shepherd, Little Spy, by @psychhound.

You try to keep out of the whole war business.

It’s just not really your thing. There are more important things to worry about, like Gethin, your biggest ram, getting stuck in the fence again, or Ffion rubbing against the raspberry bushes and getting her wool all sticky.

Life is pretty simple for a humble shepherd such as yourself.

Little Shepherd, Little Spy is a solo journaling game about being a spy in the fairy war. Choose which side you're on, then draw tarot cards to interpret the messages coming through the information ring. Your tarot card tells you what book to look at and what page. Then you copy down all the relevant information on that page and consult your spy codebook.

I absolutely love fairy games and the premise for this one is super interesting to me. Your character will be interpreting messages that take the form of books that you have on your shelf, and you’ll determine which book to look at (and which page to read) by drawing tarot cards from a deck. If you look into this one I definitely recommend setting aside some time, and perhaps selecting a few books for each category to have on hand, to ease the cycle of play.

The Wandering Library, by AP.

You are the proud owner of a Wandering Library. Whether you bought, built or inherited it, it is your home. Travelling as far and as wide as you desire, your days are spent encountering an assortment of customers, exploring new locations, and tending to your beloved home of books.

This is a a game designed to generate prompts for you to answer in as much or as little detail as you would like. All you need is two six-sided dice and your preferred method of journaling. Using the tables provided, you will explore locations and meet different people, recording your adventures and encounters as you travel in your Wandering Library.

This is a simple one-page game that presents you with a few starting questions, and the supplies a grid of prompts that you’ll roll 2d6 for. Each prompt is a new event, complete with a question, asking how your character reacts. There’s plenty of room for your own imagination. The house is a travelling library, which feels pretty fantastical to me! This game will likely last a few hours or so; it’s not really built for extended play.

Fetch My Blade, by Ethan Yen.

For years you have served your Master faithfully. A loyal companion, you accompanied your Master through the difficult times, and the good times. Now, you are called in a moment of dire need: a Stranger has challenged your Master to a duel, alluding to time before you. Your Master rises to the challenge, calling you forth. This is your moment. You have trained for this. It is time to do your Master proud. 

FETCH MY BLADE is a solo journaling roleplaying game where you play as the dog of a retired legendary master of the sword, tasked with a quest of your own: retrieve your master’s fabled weapon in time for their final duel. On your quest, you will uncover and explore your Master’s guarded past-- transforming your character, deepening your relationship with your Master, and ultimately influencing your Master’s fate.

This is a lovely little game of exploring a dog’s relationship to their Master, and developing a backstory as you play. I don’t think there’s specifically a setting in place for this game, but the presence of swords certainly points towards the fantastical. There doesn’t seem to be any specific combat in the game, but violence is considered to have happened in the past, as the game provides a content warning regarding a war that has already happened.

[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

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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

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[sam-glade]

Raspberries

Characters: Lissan, Ianim Setting: Sunblessed Realm Context: Sometime towards the end/soon after book 2. Pure fluff. Again. WC: 900 CW: -

Days of Dusk taglist (please message me to +/-): @acertainmoshke @another-white-void @cee-grice @cljordan-imperium @elshells @poetinprose

“Look, raspberries!”

Lissan turned his horse not giving Ianim a chance to protest. It was as good a place as any to pause for a drink and a short break. He smiled, hearing Ianim sigh, but follow.

After three visits to the greathouse, riding across the countryside to the First Prince’s private residence had become a pleasant pastime – all the more pleasant for Ianim’s company. Not intimidating anymore. Something Lissan looked forward to.

They rode a little further around the sparse patch of woods, until they found a twisted pine tree over a dry, sandy patch. They tied the horses to one of the lower branches, and Ianim spread his thin capelet on the ground, then began rolling up his sleeves.

“Nah, stay there,” Lissan called over his shoulder.

His powers covered his skin, more than sufficient to protect him from the barbs of raspberry bushes. He could now stop Gullin’s knives with his bare hands, and he couldn’t resist the temptation to show it off at every opportunity. And while he knew that Ianim would heal in minutes from scratches, like any other Sword, there was no need for him to get scratched in the first place.

Lissan didn't even need to delve into the raspberry patch. The branches were heavy with fruit, catching plenty of sunlight between the slim trees. He got a creased but clean kerchief out of his pocket and spread it in his left hand. Every third raspberry he picked, he popped straight into his mouth, but he soon gathered a large handful.

With a satisfied smile, he turned back to Ianim, and stopped. The Princeling looked beautiful like this, leaning back on his arms, turning his face to the sun. And it was rare to see him relax in silence, not using a conversation as a distraction.

He must have noticed the lack of movement, because he looked at Lissan, tilting his head in a silent question. Lissan sat down next to him and put the raspberries between them.

“Thank you.” Ianim tasted the first raspberry, and that was enough to prompt him to talk.

He told Lissan how he’d sneak into the pantry at night, when he was an adolescent, and eat raspberry jam sweetened with honey by spoonfuls. He said that at some point the pot changed to a smaller one, and he suspected that the cook left it as a decoy for him. He segued into talking about the cook, whom he described as a burly woman with arms like tree trunks…

His words faded to the background as Lissan watched his animated features. It struck him that he’d rarely hear Ianim talk so much with more people around. He’d contribute to the conversations at the pub, even drive them, but not… ramble. And Lissan saw why. The stories from Ianim’s childhood sounded like a fairy tale; the lists of private tutors, pet ponies, honeyed cakes, and frilly outfits. A pub wasn’t the right place for them, but with the two of them, riding across the countryside on horses, one of which was sired by the White Dragon’s Sword Spirit… It sounded just right.

A thought crossed Lissan’s mind, was Ianim this open with any of their friends in private, or just him. After all, Lissan was the only one who was ostensibly a member of a noble house. Ostensibly. And while he’d repeatedly asked everyone not to remind him about it, he’d noticed that Ianim was the one who struggled with it the most. He clearly saw Lissan differently since the revelation, but with him, Lissan didn’t mind. Not when it was so clear that he yearned for the company of someone closer in status to him. Not when it meant that nobody batted an eye at the two of them spending time together, in public, out of uniform.

His thoughts trailed off when Ianim popped another raspberry into his mouth. Lissan hadn't noticed before that his lips were the same shade of red. He bit the inside of his cheek, fully aware that he was staring.

“What?” Ianim asked. Laughter rang through his voice, and his eyes caught the sun just right to gleam brilliantly blue. “Why are you looking at me like this?”

Lissan shook his head, feeling his cheeks flush.

“I sometimes wonder if you have some nymph blood in you, you know.”

Ianim laughed, the laughter turning into snorts.

“Not… to the best of my knowledge," he managed.

That was a relief.

"Anyway, you were saying?" Lissan prompted.

"Doesn't matter." Ianim shook his head, then brushed strands of hair from his forehead. He pulled a flask out of his satchel – Lissan assumed it was filled with a light, fruity wine as usual – and took a swig. Lissan couldn’t help but watch, transfixed. "What's on your mind?"

Herding his scattered thoughts to find a neutral answer was a lost cause. And in truth there was only one thing on Lissan's mind.

"That you're beautiful. That I love watching you ramble – about anything, really." He bit his lip. That I love you.

Ianim looked to the side, fingering the cap of the flask. A faint blush was already colouring his cheeks, which made Lissan just a tiny bit smug.

"You don't have to just watch, you know," Ianim muttered, not looking at him. "I mean…"

Oh, Elements, for all his eloquence, Ianim flustered way too easily. The message was clear enough though.

His lips tasted of raspberries.

[greekstar]

Warrior cat name Ideas Prefixes - A-Z A Acorn Adder Amber Ant Apple Arch Arrow Aspen Ash Asher Alder Amber B Badger Bark Beech Bellow Birch Berry Bird Black Blizzard Brave Breeze Bright Brown Bell Bug Beetle Bluebell Blue Bounce Brindle Brush Bush Buzzard Buzz Bee Bumble Bass Basil Bubble Brine Beaver Bison (I feel like this only goes good with ‘horn’ or Bisonpelt/fur.) Bat Bone Butterfly Burdock Broken Bramble Bracken Bay Brisk Blossom Briar Boil Branch Bud C Cloud Cloudy Crystal Cold Cricket Cliff Cardinal Crying Cougar Coyote Cobweb Chick Cow Cave Cheetah Carrot Coral Cactus Claw Cedar Cherry Cinder Clover Copper Creek Crooked Crouch Crow D Dew Dewy Duck Dusty Dust Dune Down Dagger Dodge Dolphin Daisy Doe Dapple Dappled Dark Dawn Dead Dove Drift Dusk E Eagle Ebony Echo Egg Eel Ember F Fallen Fallow Fawn Feather Fennel Fern Ferret Finch Fire Flame Fleet Flint Flower Flow Fly Fox Freckle Frog Frost Furze Fuzzy Foal Falling Fall G Gale Gust Golden Gold Goose Gorse Gorge Grass Gray Green Grass Goldfish Guppy Ghost H Hail Half Hare Hawk Hay Hoot Hazel Heather Heavy Hollow Holly Honey Honeycomb Hummingbird Horse Happy Hornet Hound Heron I Ice Ivy J Jagged Jay Joy Jaguar Jackdaw Jump Juniper K Kestrel Kink Koi L Lake Larch Leaf Lark Leopard Lichen Lightning Lily Lion Little Lizard Log Long Lost Loud Low Lynx M Maggot Mallow Maple Marsh Meadow Milk Minnow Mint Mist Misty Mole Moon Morning Moss Mossy Moth Mottle Mouse Mouth Mud Mumble Mink Muddy Moonlight Mountain Mushroom Monkey N Nettle Needle Nut Newt Night Nimble O Oak Oat Odd Olive One Otter Owl Orange Ocean Orca Opal P Pale Perch Pool Pike Peak Prickle Pounce Pine Petal Petal Pebble Pear Patch Pirate(kittypet or loner) Polar Peach Panda Pond Pigeon Plum Q Quail Quick R Rabbit Rain Ragged Rat Rattle Root Raspberry Reed Red Robin Rock Rose Rowan Rubble Running Rushing Rush Russet Rust Rye Raven Raccoon Rustle Rattlesnake Ravine Rapid S Sage Short Sheep Sedge Shrew Slate Slow Snail Sneeze Sorrel Soot Spider Spruce Sun Sunny Swallow Shallow Shade Sharp Scorch Sand Sandy Sky Silver Smoke Snake Soft Snow Sparrow Speckle Splash Spotted Squirrel Stalking Stalk Stalker Starling Stone Storm Stumpy Stump Sweet Swift Shred Sloe Shell Seed Shimmer Shimmering Skunk Spirit Squid Shy Sound Summer Sapphire Spiraling Spiral Shark Saturn T Tall Talon Tooth Timber Tiger Twig Tumble Thorn Thistle Thrush Tawny Tangle Ting Trout Torn Toad Tiny V Vine Vixen Void Vole W Wasp Weasel Web Weed Wet Whisker White Whale Wild Willow Wind Wolf Winter Wisteria Whisper Whispering Water Wave Waver Whisper Watermelon Whistle Wood Y Yellow

Yew

Yarrow- suggested

You guys DONT WANNA KNOW how LONG this took. I’m crying. And I might’ve missed some so feel free to send me messages in chat to request me editing it and putting it in some (not like messaging but the. Chat in this post lol.)

@cryptidclaw I also did this for our Au to help us with renaming.

I will get to suffixes soon I promise.

[bharathi1908]

Beat the Heat: 10 Refreshing Summer Food and Drink Ideas

Without a doubt, summer has arrived! And with summertime here, the extreme heat makes everyone feel hot, tired, and uneasy. The most crucial thing to do to be healthy and persevere through this intense heat is to stay hydrated and eat foods that help the body maintain its coolness. There are healthier and more nutritional options available to help you combat the summer heat, even if it’s tempting to go for sweet drinks and ice cream. Cooling down with refreshing drinks, such as mocktails or cocktails, can be a breeze during the summer heat. It helps you quench your thirst, cool you down, and elevates your selection of refreshments.

In the article below, ten cool food and drink suggestions are listed. They can help keep you hydrated and cool on the warmest days of the year.

1. Watermelon: The Hydration Hero

The official fruit of summer and outdoor cookouts is watermelon. It replaces fluids lost through sweat and tastes like a juicy slice of hydration. Rich in antioxidants like lycopene and vitamins A and C, watermelon can help shield your skin from the sun’s damaging rays. While watermelons are a delicious snack to feast on, just as is, there are also multiple different delicious recipes out there. Watermelon is one of the tastiest summertime fruits; its juice is much better. Its hydrating qualities help keep your body moisturized and invigorated, making it incredibly refreshing.

2. Cucumber: Cooling and Crisp

Cucumbers provide a delightful crunch and keep you hydrated because they are over 95% water. They also include silica, which is known to support joint health and maintain the radiance and suppleness of your skin. Savor it in drinks, smoothies, salads, or as a snack with luscious hummus. Refreshing drinks are not only enjoyed but practically required on the hottest summer days, and cucumber is one of the best ingredients for DIY summer drinks. Cucumber and watermelon together are the perfect way to relieve your thirst because it contains two of the most hydrating foods on the planet. An easy recipe with the two includes a nice glass of white wine sangria with watermelon balls, cucumber slices, and lime slices. The most hydrating drink you will ever try!

3. Coconut Water: Nature’s Electrolyte Drink

Coconut water is a healthy substitute for sports drinks in the summertime heat, especially if you are sweating profusely. High in electrolytes like potassium and magnesium, coconut water helps replenish vital minerals lost via sweat and helps maintain appropriate hydration levels. A refreshing glass of coconut water will lift your spirits right away. Its refreshing flavor and subtle sweetness make it the ideal beverage to ward off the summertime blues. Consume enough coconut water if you feel dehydrated since it is an excellent electrolyte. 

4. Mint: The Zesty Refresher

Mint is a plant that helps you stay cool and gives your meals a flavor boost. It can be blended into smoothies or used to create cool beverages like mint lemonade. Mint leaves also make a refreshing infusion in water or an addition to salads. For an additional level of hydration and coolness, it’s always a good idea to bring its cold friend, cucumber, over for a delightful spritz in a tall glass of sparkling water.

5. Berries: Bursting with Antioxidants

Not only are berries like raspberries, blueberries, and strawberries delightful, but they are also a great source of antioxidants. These tiny powerhouses can improve your general health and shield your skin from UV harm. Snack on them, puree them into smoothies or mix them with yogurt for a tasty treat. Alternatively, pick some and consume them right from the bush!

6. Citrus Fruits: Vitamin C Boosters

Vitamin C, abundant in oranges, lemons, and grapefruits, boosts immunity and keeps the body cool in the summer. Make your zesty drinks or savor freshly squeezed juices for a nutritious and “Z’esty” boost. The best drink that is easily indulgent is the classic lime juice or lemonade, the most popular summertime beverage. This refreshing drink has ingredients like mint leaves, lemons, sugar, salt, and water. It’s really easy to create and tastes fantastic every single time. In some parts of the world, to add some distinctive flavor, you can also spice up lime juice with additions easily found in the kitchen, like cumin, coriander powder, and black pepper, among others.

7. Yogurt: A Cool, Creamy Delight

There are several ways to enjoy yogurt: a cooling and adaptable snack. In addition to supporting digestive health, it has probiotics and can be cooling on a hot day. Try making flavorful yogurt dips or parfaits with fresh fruit to make your meals filling and light. Unquestionably, one of India’s favorite curd-based drinks is buttermilk, also called chaas. The advantages of chaas, such as a fantastic digestive system, are further enhanced by spices like jeera. Enjoy this delicious masala chaas dish on any hot and sunny day. On the other hand, yogurt can be made into delicious snacks by adding berries to a bowl of plain or flavored yogurt.

8. Cilantro: Flavorful and Fresh

Based on the consensus, you either love or despise cilantro. Some people find it to be a tasty herb that gives every meal a freshness, and some cannot stand the taste of it. However, for those who love cilantro, it tastes great in cold soups, salsas, and salads. It has cooling qualities and improves digestion, and it tastes fantastic.

9. Tomatoes: Juicy and Nourishing

Tomatoes, high in vitamins A and C, also cool and support good skin. Savor them raw or sliced with a little salt for a refreshing snack, or add them to salads or gazpachos. Tomatoes are one of the most versatile foods; they can go into any mainstream dish, be made into a sauce or soup, and add flavor and tang to anything you desire. 

10. Leafy Greens: Light and Nutritious

Even though you might be eating lighter over the summer, you don’t have to give up on nutrients. Powerful sources of nutrients are leafy greens, including kale, spinach, and arugula. Their high water content keeps you hydrated and packed with important vitamins and minerals.

Conclusion

In conclusion, stay cool and healthy simultaneously, without compromising taste or flavor, with the help of food and drinks that naturally contain cooling nutrients. You’ll stay hydrated, nourished, and cool as the temperature rises by including these cool foods in your summer diet.

[rabbitcruiser]

National Liqueur Day

Today we celebrate and imbibe liqueur, a distilled alcoholic beverage that is sweetened or blended with herbs, spices, flowers, nuts, cream, or fruits. The alcohol content of liqueur generally ranges from between 24 percent and 60 percent (48-120 U.S. proof) and is usually lower than that of liquor (spirits). Usually, the base spirit used to make liqueur is brandy. Liqueurs are not aged for very long, although their base spirit may be. But, there may be a resting stage to allow the flavors to blend together properly. In the United States, liqueurs are sometimes called cordials or schnapps. Technically, in the United States, the name schnapps only applies to brandies distilled from fermented fruits. Usually syrupy and sweet, liqueurs are used to make after-dinner drinks or are mixed with coffee. They may be drunk straight, poured over ice, or mixed. They are also commonly used to flavor desserts.

By 400 BC, fortified spirits were being made by the distillation of wine by the Egyptians and Greeks, who sweetened them with cinnamon and honey. These spirits were similar to today's liqueur and used ingredients that now are used to make mead. During the thirteenth century, European monks and alchemists improved upon the distillation process and created what we now would recognize as a liqueur. At the time it was mainly used for medical purposes. Today there are both generic liqueurs and proprietary liqueurs—those made by individual producers, often with a secret formula, with registered brand names. The following are some of the most common:

Generic:

Advocaat: cream liqueur.

Amaretto: almond flavor.

Apricot.

Crème d'ananas: flavored with pineapple.

Crème de cacao: flavored with cocoa and vanilla beans.

Crème de framboises: made with raspberries.

Crème de menthe: flavored with mint.

Crème de noyaux: almond-flavored; made with fruit pits; similar to amaretto.

Crème de violette: also known as parfait amour; contains oils from both violets and vanilla beans.

Kümmel: flavored with caraway seed.

Limoncello (Italy): lemon-flavored.

Sloe gin: flavored from the fruit of the blackthorn bush.

Triple sec: orange-flavored; colorless Curaçao.

Proprietary:

Baileys Irish Cream (Ireland): Irish whiskey and cream.

Bénédictine (France): first made in 1510; closely-guarded formula.

Campari (Italy): herbs and fruit.

Chartreuse (France): formula was developed in 1607; contains green and yellow plant liqueurs; spicy and aromatic flavors.

Cherry Heering (Denmark): cherry flavored.

Cointreau (France): proprietary blend of triple sec.

Crème Yvette (United States): violet flavor and color.

Curaçao: flavored from the dried peels of the green oranges from the island of Curaçao, located in the Caribbean Sea.

Danziger Goldwasser: spicy; contains tiny gold specks.

Drambuie (Britain/Scotland): Scotch whisky base; flavored with heather honey and herbs; made with a French formula that was brought to Scotland in 1745.

Forbidden Fruit (United States): brandy and grapefruit.

Grand Marnier (France): orange liqueur with cognac base; created in 1880; one of the most famous liqueurs of all time; Escoffier used it to make Crêpes Suzette; César Ritz was a fan of it and used it at his hotels.

Irish Mist (Ireland): made with Irish whiskey and honey; spicy.

Jägermeister (Germany).

Kahlúa (Mexico): coffee-flavored.

Liquore Galliano (Italy).

Midori (Japan): flavored with melon.

Sambuca (Italy): anise-flavored.

Strega (Italy).

Tia Maria (Jamaica): rum as base spirit; coffee-flavored.

Van der Hum (South Africa): spicy; aromatic.

How to Observe National Liqueur Day

Celebrate the day drinking liqueur. Use it to make an after-dinner drink, enjoy it straight, or pour it over ice. There are a countless amount of liqueurs and recipes that go with them that you could try. You could also use liqueurs to make a dessert. You could even use the day to learn how to make your own liqueurs. If you don't drink, you could still make or bake a dessert with liqueur for someone else, or try your hand at making homemade liqueur for a friend to try.

Source

[aaximblogs]

The Hut: A Short Story

By: Aaxim

The dark woods stretched endlessly before me, a labyrinth of shadows and whispers. As I ventured deeper, the air grew thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. My heart pounded in my chest, each step a reminder of the dangers lurking in the unknown.

The trees began to change, gradually transforming into the dense, vibrant foliage of a jungle. Suddenly, a rustle above me caught my attention. Before I could react, a massive python plummeted from the canopy, its scales shimmering ominously. A health bar materialized above it, flashing a warning. With my level one agility, escaping was no small feat. I darted and dodged, adrenaline fueling my every move until I finally broke free from the serpent’s reach.

Breathless and weary, I stumbled upon a meadow teeming with life. The sight of abundant wildlife filled me with both trepidation and excitement. My instincts kicked in, and I began to hunt, tracking the creatures through the tall grass. Hours passed as I carefully stalked my prey, each successful hunt a testament to my growing skills. By the end of the day, I had collected enough meat to sustain me for days.

Not far from the meadow, I found a raspberry garden, the bushes heavy with ripe, juicy berries. I spent time gathering the fruit, feeling a sense of accomplishment as my collection grew. Between the hunting and gathering, my resources were plentiful, and my spirits were high.

With my spoils in hand, I continued my journey, determined to find a place to call home. The path led me to an enchanted wood, where the trees whispered secrets and the air hummed with magic. In the heart of this mystical forest, I discovered a small, weathered tower with green accents and dark wood walls. An eerie spiral staircase led to the floors above, promising more mysteries.

Attached to the home was a greenhouse, its glass walls filled with a thriving mushroom garden. The mushrooms sprouted in clusters, their caps glowing faintly in the twilight, creating an otherworldly ambiance.

Curiosity drew me inside. The hut was simple but filled with oddities—three urns, each bearing distinct markings, hinted at the presence of the witch and her two sisters. As I explored, I found various items, each one a piece of their mysterious lives.

Despite its eerie charm, the hut needed care. I rolled up my sleeves and cleaned, arranging the space to feel more like home. The lone cat, a sleek black creature with piercing orange eyes, watched me intently but soon warmed to my presence.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, I prepared a hot meal with the meat I had gathered, complemented by the fresh raspberries. The warmth of the food and the crackling fire eased the tension from my journey. The cat curled up beside me, a silent companion in this new chapter of my adventure.

Under the glow of the moon, I stood in my mushroom garden, the sense of belonging washing over me. Here, amidst the enchantment and mystery, I had found my refuge. With a contented sigh, I closed my eyes, ready for whatever the next day would bring.

___________________________________

This story was written based on my first night in the modded Minecraft pack RAD2

Want to experience my stories first hand? Watch my twitch streams @ https://twitch.tv/aaxim

Want more stories like this let me know it was fun!

[dankusner]

How a Homegrown Teen Gang Punctured the Image of an Upscale Community

The Awards & Recognitions section of the Web site of Gilbert, Arizona, lists some of the area’s accolades:

#1 Best City for Early Retirement,

#2 Safest City for Trick-or-Treating,

#6 Best City to Raise a Family in the West.

Gilbert recently surpassed Scottsdale as the Arizona city with the highest median income, and, according to F.B.I. statistics, only one American community of its size had a lower crime rate in 2022.

Although Gilbert has more residents than Boise or Salt Lake City, its official documents avoid the word “city”; the municipal government has opted to preserve Gilbert’s status as a town, one of the largest in the United States.

Driving down Gilbert’s wide, smooth roads, past vast developments enclosed by white fences, you get the impression of a place that, like an adolescent, hasn’t yet adjusted to its proportions.

On a Saturday evening late last October, teen-agers in Gilbert circulated aimlessly, looking for a good time.

One party was disappointing, full of “Mormon kids that were, like, pretty sober,” a teen-ager later said.

(Arizona’s East Valley, which includes Gilbert, has one of the largest populations of Latter-day Saints outside Utah.)

But a flyer had been posted on Snapchat for a party at a house in an upscale neighborhood in Queen Creek, adjacent to Gilbert.

The flyer read “HALLOWERN COSTUME RAGER Open Invite ss ALC provided first come first serve.”

People started showing up around nine—kids in lifted trucks, in their parents’ BMW, in a black Camaro, in a friend’s Camry.

The girls were dressed like cowgirls and white-swan ballerinas and giant cans of Twisted Tea; the boys were dressed as soldiers and mobsters and prisoners in orange jumpsuits.

They drank Blue Raspberry Lemonade Smirnoff vodka, played beer pong, and smoked joints in the yard.

Preston Lord, a slight, gangly sophomore known for his school spirit, was there with friends from the basketball team.

The party was wilder than they were used to.

They “spent most of the time being ‘wall huggers,’ ” hanging out in the garage, one of them later said.

Some older girls confronted them teasingly—were the boys sure they were old enough to be at a party like this?

(This account of the party is drawn from an eleven-hundred-page report made by the Queen Creek police; many interviewees were minors, and their names were redacted.)

Sometime before ten, Lord and his friends watched as a teen-ager they knew, a Latino boy in a baseball cap, filmed two partygoers arguing.

Treston Billey, a stocky eighteen-year-old wearing a white pin-striped suit, told him to delete the video.

The air had a pre-fight crackle to it; people stood around waiting to see how the tension would break.

Lord and his friends, together with the Latino boy, left the party and walked down the street.

A group of older guys followed them.

Because they were “tall and strong-looking,” one of Lord’s friends said, he thought they might be football players.

Many of them were dressed as gangsters, in fedoras and suits with pocket squares.

They taunted the younger kids as they left, singing “Na, na, na, na, hey, hey, hey, goodbye.”

One witness described them as “skipping.”

The Latino boy in the baseball cap was dressed as a “cholo,” wearing a saint pendant on a long fake-gold chain.

When the pursuers caught up to the younger group, one of them snatched the chain and tossed it to his friends.

At some point, Lord and his friends began to run.

One jumped over a fence and into a neighbor’s yard; another hid in a bush.

But the older kids caught up with Lord and knocked him down.

When he was on the ground, a group of guys began “kicking on him,” “standing right above and beating down,” “getting on him and going at it,” witnesses told police. The beating was over in seconds. “He’s out,” someone said. A neighbor’s surveillance-camera footage showed ten boys running away, some of them laughing.

A handful of partygoers, including several lifeguards, pulled Lord off the street and attempted CPR. Lord wheezed, then fell silent. There was blood on his face and coming out of his nose. He never regained consciousness. Two days later, he died; the coroner ruled the death a homicide.

A boy named Taylor Sherman took a video of Lord’s body and sent it to a group chat. “Slumped the fuck out haha,” he wrote. Later that night, Sherman’s friend Talan Renner told him, “I might have hospitalized that kid. I hit him pretty hard.” Other people who had been at the party, and who had witnessed, heard about, or participated in the attack on Lord, talked about it in D.M.s and group chats:actually think that kid is actually dead, their was a blanket over him I heard Clay told me it’s an investigation now Hes on life support rn, I feel bad for the kid ngl, kinda sad Talen hit him once, and he was like dead that kid was just a freshman and talyn is 17 like that kid had his whole life ahead of him I’m js thankful I wasn’t involved, even tho I am Any pictures or post of me delete them please. idk everything is just bs rn.

Queen Creek, which sprawls east of Gilbert, is a new enough town that its police department was formed in 2022; Lord’s death was its first homicide case. Gilbert itself had only about five thousand inhabitants in 1980. But, in the nineties, as Phoenix boomed, proliferating suburban developments made Gilbert, the former “Hay Capital of the World,” the fastest-growing municipality in the country. “You used to drive down the road and see sheep crossing,” a school official said at the time. “Things are changing.” These days, the city, some twenty-five miles east of Phoenix, is closing in on a population of three hundred thousand. But the area’s tendency toward sprawl must contend with the reality of scarce resources. “Gilbert’s not far from being full,” Grady Gammage, Jr., a land-use attorney who writes about development in Phoenix, told me. Owing in part to Arizona’s dwindling groundwater, the state has temporarily halted some new construction in Queen Creek, where Preston Lord’s family lives and the Halloween party took place. When I visited, in January, housing developments sat among bare fields that were awaiting the resumption of building.

Rumors about who was responsible for Lord’s death spread quickly among teen-agers, and then among adults. On Facebook, a pseudonymous account under the name Lily Waterfield served as a gathering place for outraged parents. Weeks passed; in the absence of arrests, rumors metastasized online. In late November, the women behind the Lily Waterfield account tagged Wendi Meisner, whose son, Jake, was alleged to have participated in the beating. “Your son was involved in the murder of Preston Lord. Do what’s best for the community. Turn in your son,” they wrote. “Your son won’t get away with this murder. The community is demanding justice!!!!!!” (Meisner said that her son had “no involvement” and threatened legal action.)

How a Homegrown Teen Gang Punctured the Image of an Upscale Community

Cartoon by Hilary Fitzgerald Campbell

In December, the Arizona Republic reported that Lord’s death was not an aberration but the culmination of an alarming trend: a group of largely upper-middle-class teen-agers had been wreaking havoc in Gilbert and the surrounding East Valley communities for more than a year, with few consequences. The paper reported that the group called itself the Gilbert Goons, a name that apparently originated in a Snapchat group. High-school students knew about them—one victim later described them to law enforcement as “a group of kids just harassing Arizona”—but the Gilbert police seemingly did not. “We do not have documented incidents associated with that group name,” officials told the Republic. The newspaper detailed seven violent attacks by members of the group, many of them captured on video. Others soon surfaced. The Goons seemed to be a loose association of some two dozen kids, mostly but not entirely white and wealthy, who attended high schools in the Gilbert area. (The Republic would eventually identify ninety-five Goon-related assaults, stemming from eighteen incidents. Michael Soelberg, chief of the Gilbert police, called that number “exaggerated.” He added, “Any teen-violence case, they’re lumping them all together as a Goon-related assault, and that’s not accurate.”) The videos were shaky, chaotic, difficult to follow; the person filming would sometimes gasp, “Oh, my God,” sounding shocked or thrilled or some giddy mixture of the two. Some of the clips seemed to show drunk teens posturing and throwing wild punches at one another. “You’re talking all crazy on Instagram,” a girl yells in one, before shoving another girl against a car and hitting her repeatedly. Others depicted unprovoked blitz attacks: a group of kids swarming someone, knocking him to the ground, and kicking him over and over.

In January, Jaimie Weinberger, a mother of three with a thick fringe of eyelashes, gave me a tour of Gilbert in her white Yukon S.U.V. We passed large houses hidden behind long, pale walls, medians tastefully landscaped with desert plants, and a disorienting number of shopping centers. Three-quarters of Gilbert residents are white, and, even as Arizona has become a swing state, the city remains solidly conservative—Donald Trump won the area by fifteen points in 2020, and most of the East Valley is represented by Andy Biggs, a former chair of the House Freedom Caucus.

“One thing to know about Gilbert is that there’s a shopping center on literally every corner. All of this, in the past couple of years, has been built up,” Weinberger said as we passed a Five Guys, a Shake Shack, and a Torchy’s Tacos. “I mean, there is literally every restaurant you can imagine here. Which I feel like is part of the draw to Gilbert. Because there is everything.”

“We can get to three different Targets within five minutes of our house,” her husband, Cody, who was driving, added.

Like many other Gilbert parents, Weinberger had become preoccupied with Lord’s death and was a regular on the Facebook groups and Reddit forums in which the case was discussed in obsessive detail, and in occasionally conspiratorial tones. “My husband’s, like, ‘You are just so engulfed in all of this,’ ” she told me later. “But my kids are growing up here.”

About a week after Lord’s death, Queen Creek police executed search warrants at four houses in a wealthy subdivision called Whitewing. The community is gated, but Weinberger had the security code. We drove through the snaking streets, past sprawling homes that Weinberger regarded with an appraising eye. In Gilbert, minute gradations of wealth are particularly visible in real estate: Is the neighborhood gated or not? Is the house custom-built or tract? “So all these are custom builds, and these lots are probably half acres, so that’s premium. Land is a hard thing to come by in Arizona, especially in Gilbert,” Weinberger said. “I would say every house in here is at least a million and a half, current market. I mean, there’s a really outdated, crappy house for one point eight five.”

Weinberger directed her husband down a short street, past a lamppost encircled with an orange ribbon. “Now this area is just covered in orange,” Weinberger said. People in Gilbert were painting rocks orange and tying orange ribbons around tree trunks as a sign of support for Lord’s family. (Orange was reportedly Lord’s favorite color.) In Whitewing, the orange decorations had become fodder for a proxy war. The week before my visit, someone had tied large orange bows to the community’s front gate. The Whitewing homeowners’ association had ordered a landscaper to remove them. After an uproar online, the bows were restored. Farther down the street, a spacious ranch house had thick ribbons tied around nearly every available surface: the mailbox, planters, wrought-iron lanterns. The orange décor appeared to be aimed at the family who lived across the street, the Renners. Talan, a seventeen-year-old football player with a blunt chin and wavy brown hair, had been linked to Lord’s death; his nineteen-year-old brother, Kyler, had recently been arrested on drug and assault charges. Both brothers had been identified as Goons. (Kyler’s attorney, a public defender, has said that the state has not alleged that he is a member of a gang.) “Did you see Kyler’s mug shot? He looks . . . not well,” Weinberger said, pulling up a picture of a young man with thin lips, bad skin, and a piercing, anxious gaze.

In the year leading up to Lord’s death, some of the young men implicated in his beating, and also other alleged Goons, had engaged in an escalating series of transgressions. At a houseparty in December, 2022, two Goons commanded a sixteen-year-old to get on his knees. When he refused, a group encircled him, shoving, then punching him until he fell to the ground; according to his mother, Lori Nitzen, he was beaten unconscious. Thirteen days later, a sixteen-year-old named Connor Jarnagan was attacked with brass knuckles in the parking lot of an In-N-Out Burger—the fourth beating with brass knuckles in five weeks. One mother was so alarmed by her daughter’s friends that she created a fake Snapchat account to keep tabs on their posts, which depicted violent beatings and “more guns than anything I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” as she told the Republic.

I spoke to a couple whose daughter, whom I’ll call Alyssa, had been friends with several boys later identified as Goons. Like other parents I spoke with, they seemed bewildered by their child’s actions in the past few years, as if, since the pandemic, teen-age bad behavior had sparked into something unrecognizable and extreme. (Violent crime rose nationwide in 2020. It has since returned to pre-pandemic levels, over all, but rates of youth violence remain elevated in many places.) During the lockdowns, Alyssa was in middle school, and she began hiding in the closet, seized with panic attacks, her father, Brad, told me. She had always been “spicy,” her stepmother, Cheryl, added, but by the spring of her sophomore year she was exhibiting “a darker energy I couldn’t put my finger on.” (Brad and Cheryl are pseudonyms.)That year, she began dating Kyler Renner. Kyler was reserved around adults. He drove a turbocharged Camaro with a custom paint job, and was surprisingly well dressed for a seventeen-year-old: Gucci belt, Louis Vuitton backpack, Burberry boxer shorts. Kyler and Talan’s parents divorced in 2020, and Kyler lived with his father in a house south of Whitewing that was ostentatious even by Gilbert standards; it had an indoor golf gym, a basketball court, and a lazy river snaking through the expansive back yard.

One evening, while browsing through Alyssa’s prom pictures, Cheryl found what she believed to be Kyler’s second Instagram account. (It was linked in his main account’s profile, and featured selfies and pictures of his car.) Some of the posts were glamour shots of Kyler’s Camaro; others showed someone casually handling a silenced submachine gun as the person drove down a dark street, the camera zooming in on the odometer as it approached a hundred and twenty miles per hour, or a hand flipping through fat stacks of rubber-banded cash. “I was just scrolling through, shaking,” Cheryl said. When Alyssa went back to school after summer vacation, her behavior deteriorated. (She eventually moved in with her mother full time, and is currently estranged from Brad and Cheryl.) One of Alyssa’s friends tested positive for cocaine use and said that Alyssa had provided the drugs, so Cheryl and Brad requested a meeting with school administrators and Alyssa. “I thought the minute we sit her down with an authority, that’s going to scare her,” Cheryl said. “And it didn’t.” Even the school resource officer seemed intimidated by the teen-agers he was supposed to be protecting. “I remember being, like, ‘There’s a vaping issue, they’re doing drugs, this is scary,’ ” Cheryl said. “And he was, like, ‘Well, there’s two thousand of them and there’s four of us. What do you want us to do?’ ”

Arizona’s strong libertarian tradition has led the state to embrace a consumer-oriented approach to its educational system. “I don’t think people understand what it’s like here,” one parent told me. Since the mid-nineties, Arizona has had open enrollment, meaning that students can attend any public school within a given district. “There are eleven different schools with over two thousand kids, some with three thousand kids, all within seven miles of me,” the parent went on. “The troublemakers can switch schools really easily. Or kids switch schools because of bullying, or because they just don’t like the kids there.”

Several parents told me that open enrollment contributes to a sense of unrootedness in the East Valley. That feeling was compounded when, in 2022, Arizona became the first state to implement a universal school-voucher program. Students can now have their pick of strip-mall schools, online religious homeschooling programs, or “traditional academies”—charter schools that emphasize discipline and often boast Roman columns out front. The voucher program was designed to help poor children leave failing schools, but a large majority of the money has gone to wealthy families whose children were already enrolled in private education. (The program has also led to a funding crisis for the state, which currently faces a budget shortfall of more than eight hundred million dollars.) “It’s really eroded the sense of community and destabilized what was already a pretty destabilized system,” Beth Lewis, the director of Save Our Schools Arizona, a public-schools advocacy group, said. “Parents will get frustrated with something going on, rightly or wrongly, and they just say, ‘Forget it, I’m going down the street.’ ” Weinberger, a former elementary-school principal, told me, “Schools have to uphold this image to maintain their enrollment. And, because there’s so much competition, principals are encouraged to minimize issues to keep enrollment numbers up.”

Lord’s death shocked many parents in the community. Others were less surprised. “I have received over 50 text messages from worried parents, furious parents, heartbroken parents asking what we can do. Asking how can this happen HERE? I hate to break it to you all but it has been happening here for a long time,” a former educator turned “childhood advocate” named Katey McPherson wrote in a widely shared Facebook post soon after Lord’s death.

I met McPherson for breakfast at a popular spot in Gilbert’s self-consciously quaint downtown. “Welcome to Goonville!” she said brightly when I sat down. “Every morning, it’s something new and fucked up.” McPherson has an appealingly frank and dishy manner. She is the mother of four high-school-age daughters, who are, apparently, trouble-free, and she spoke about the Goons raptly but as if from a slight distance, as though they were unruly neighbors who couldn’t keep their mess out of the front yard. After two decades as a guidance counsellor in East Valley schools, McPherson became a consultant, lecturing around the country on topics like the plight of America’s boys: “Why they’re always in trouble, why they’re addicted to video games, everything.” The Goon drama aligned with her professional interests; it also seemed to have awakened a latent detective instinct. “I have a little informant that sends me all of their assault videos, because they’re tired of knowing they’ve hurt people. And then I send them to the police,” she told me. “I have, like, this whole Goon board,” she said. (The Goon board mapped the connections among various floppy-haired boys.) The state police’s gang-intelligence task force was looking into the Goons, and regularly consulted her for assistance. “We talk very frequently. They’ll e-mail me, ‘What do you know about this kid? Is he connected to So-and-So?’ ” McPherson said. She’d become impressively well versed in the social world of Gilbert’s troubled teens. “I don’t even have to look at my Goon board anymore,” she told me. McPherson often shared information with me before it was publicly known. “Arrests are happening this week!” she texted me in early March, three days before Queen Creek police made their initial moves in the Lord case.

Before Lord’s death, police had treated the beatings as isolated incidents. Many people assumed that the boys’ wealth had insulated them from consequences. “The cops know who these kids are,” Lori Nitzen, the woman whose son was beaten unconscious in December, 2022, said. “It’s crazy. The law isn’t doing anything.” Parents of victims told me they felt that Gilbert police hadn’t taken the Goons’ crimes seriously. Stephanie Jarnagan, whose son, Connor, was hit with brass knuckles, said that officers initially told her they were having trouble investigating her son’s attack because they couldn’t find witnesses. It was only when Connor tracked down screenshots of one of his assailants bragging about the beating that the case moved forward. At the time of the attack, ten months before the assault on Lord, Connor’s father told police in an e-mail that it was “well known” that “these guys go around jumping people but no [one] wants to talk about it because they are scared.” When police searched a suspect’s phone, they found a group chat in which someone had written, “as soon as they find out we r the ones who got into all the fights We’re gettin charged w 30+ assaults.” (One of Connor’s assailants, a seventeen-year-old, eventually pleaded guilty to one count of aggravated robbery.) “It’s really hard for me to say, because we are supportive of law enforcement, but I don’t know how all these things have fallen through the cracks,” Stephanie told me. A teen-ager being questioned for a Goon-related attack told police after Lord’s death, “All summer long, there was fights happening at In-N-Out non-stop, and cops never did anything about it.” He added, “But now a kid dies and everybody wants to do something about it.”

Chief Soelberg said that the police had done their best with limited information provided by the public. “None of our cases, none of the suspects, none of the witnesses, none of the information ever mentioned the term ‘Gilbert Goons,’ ” he told me. “What’s important to note is that the information we know now is much different than the information we had prior to Preston Lord being killed.” After Lord’s death, stories and videos of fights began circulating online, as parents scrutinized social media and victims of previously unreported assaults came forward. The material appeared to reveal a hidden world of rampant teen-age violence and crime. (It could get confusing: Goon investigations would ultimately ensnare multiple Masons, a Kyler, a Tyler, a Taylor, a Talan, and a Talyn.) The “truck kids” lived in north Gilbert, McPherson said. “Everyone would consider them, like, the hick Goons. They drive big lifted F-150s, they might have those big exhaust pipes off the back and a big American flag. They drive fifteen, twenty miles out into the desert and have bonfires. They have these little tiny motorcycles, and they jump over the bonfires with them.” In south Gilbert, the Goons looked like J. Crew models. “Some of them are pulling a 3.8 and have a job and play a sport, and they’re just beating people up on the weekend,” she went on. The high-school Goons ran around with some older guys: recent grads, dropouts, older brothers.

The Goons had expensive vehicles and no curfews and longish hair that hung in their eyes. They liked car surfing—riding on the outsides of moving vehicles—and hanging out in the parking lot between the In-N-Out and the Walmart, where the boys got in fights and the girls stood around, watching them fight. They shared videos of their exploits in a group chat labelled Social Studies. Online, they affected street language: “I’m on my trap phone,” one of the Whitewing boys messaged an antagonist not long after Lord’s death. “i got a revolver and a 12 gauge shotty i dont trust myself enough to go around yo crib.” (His correspondent didn’t seem impressed: “talking this crazy when you inna mansion?” the person replied.)

Much of the community’s condemnation had been aimed at Travis and Becky Renner, the parents of Kyler and Talan. “They’re super known in the community,” McPherson told me. “They own a lot of businesses.” The pair were college athletes—he ran track at Kansas State; she was a gymnast at Arizona State. In Gilbert, they owned a number of fitness-adjacent businesses, including Orangetheory franchises, smoothie shops, and a martial-arts studio. A decade ago, the Republic wrote about a mission trip that the couple took to Uganda, where they helped to fund the construction of a well to supply clean drinking water to a village. In the accompanying photographs, Becky and Travis grinned amid a crowd of Ugandan children wearing Orangetheory T-shirts. The Renners seemed to embody a Gilbert ideal: athletic, entrepreneurial, spiritual. But, below the surface, the family was struggling. Kyler went to rehab when he was in high school, and Talan spent time at Diamond Ranch Academy, a Utah residential treatment center and boarding school for adolescents with behavioral issues. (Diamond Ranch lost its license and closed last July after a state investigation into the deaths of several children in its care.) In 2018, Becky filed a restraining order against her husband, accusing him of physical abuse, though she dropped the order after they got divorced.

“Im just wondering why you only say ‘no bad ideas after my suggestions Janice”

“I’m just wondering why you only say ‘no bad ideas’ after my suggestions, Janice!”

Cartoon by Maddie Dai

In the wider Phoenix area, the story of the Gilbert Goons was met with a mixture of shock and Schadenfreude: moneyed, manicured Gilbert had an underbelly after all. “I’m guessing my reaction was fairly typical. Holy crap, this is happening in Gilbert? Gilbert? Inconceivable!” Gammage, the author, told me. “Because, you know, it’s this upper-middle-class paradise, it’s these pretty, big, fancy houses. That’s certainly the image.”

As McPherson saw it, the Goons’ transgressions were a symptom of parental neglect and decadence. “Our home tripled in value in ten years,” she said. “So, as part of that, there’s this fast-money, fast-life-style thing, where people that didn’t have money gained equity in their homes and bought a boat, bought a Jet Ski. The parent community became very, well, I call it California—they were trying to be like the reality shows. I’ve even seen my own friends morph, where they’re swinging and having Adderall parties.” Another parent admitted to me that her child had been friends with members of the group. “Look, I wasn’t perfect. I did my best, and stuff still happened,” she said. Trying to rein in her misbehaving kid had been deeply isolating. She believed that parents in the East Valley were too concerned with maintaining their public images to admit that their children were out of control. “No one talks, like, ‘My kid is being a complete shithead, I’m struggling, I don’t know what to do,’ ” she said.

Despite Gilbert’s reputation as a safe city, the community has a history of troubling teen violence. Decades before the Goons, Gilbert was menaced by a group of “clean cut high school boys with nice cars, fat allowances, and a mean streak,” as the Republic described them in 2000. The group went by a few different names, but by the late nineties they were calling themselves the Devil Dogs. The Devil Dogs were into steroids and the Ultimate Fighting Championship. They wore white laces in their Doc Martens, to signal that they were white supremacists. One Devil Dog later told police that the group sought out fights “pretty much every weekend.” They favored choke holds and head stomps and yelling “White power,” even when their victims were white. They hung out in a Taco Bell parking lot, where, on a spring evening in 1999, nine drunk Devil Dogs accosted two young men, barking at them and calling them “homos” and “pussies,” and then beat them. Another time, also at the Taco Bell, a group attacked a teen-ager, kicking him in the head and fracturing his skull; his injuries were so serious that he was taken to the hospital in a helicopter and rushed into surgery.

As with the Goon attacks, few of the altercations resulted in prosecutions. Police said that witnesses wouldn’t coöperate, or that victims declined to press charges. Sometimes, when things got out of hand at the Taco Bell, employees called leaders from the Mormon Church instead of the police. According to Mike Sanchez, a former Gilbert police detective who investigated the Devil Dogs, the Church’s involvement gave the young men an “aura of invincibility.”

On Memorial Day weekend in 1999, an eighteen-year-old named Jordan Jarvis was attacked by a group of Devil Dogs. Jarvis’s face was so disfigured from the beating that he needed multiple reconstructive surgeries. Even months afterward, his speech was garbled. “He doesn’t like to talk because he is hard to understand,” his mother told a reporter. Jarvis agreed to press charges, and the family’s answering machine filled up with messages consisting of nothing but loud barking.

Sanchez was surprised when his investigation into the teen gang intersected with a much larger case. It turned out that one of the Devil Dogs’ older brothers was selling Ecstasy for Sammy (the Bull) Gravano, the Mafia hit man turned informant, who had moved to the area as part of the witness-protection program before renouncing his anonymity, which he found too confining. The Devil Dogs had apparently served as a kind of intimidation squad. Gravano ultimately pleaded guilty to federal and state drug charges, for which he served nearly eighteen years. “In my criminal life,” he told the judge, “this is a minor thing.”

A Gilbert city councilman, Mike Evans, said at the time that he was urged to keep quiet about the Devil Dogs, because if he spoke out “it would hurt economic development.” Ultimately, a half-dozen young men were prosecuted for the assault on Jarvis. But teachers, coaches, and local officials wrote letters urging the courts to be lenient. “We have some thugs, and they need to get their noses bloodied. But they don’t need to go to jail on assault charges with hate-crimes tags on them. They acted like jocks are supposed to act, obnoxious and aggressive,” a former Gilbert mayor, James Farley, wrote to the judge. (All six young men pleaded guilty; five of them received sentences of six months in prison, and one was sentenced to two years.)

There are some obvious resemblances between the Devil Dogs and the Goons. Both scandals involved high-school athletes from privileged families who liked to beat up strangers, and who filmed their fights—on videocassettes, in the case of the Devil Dogs. But Sanchez saw other parallels as well: police who regarded certain teen-agers with a boys-will-be-boys tolerance; parents in willful denial of their children’s crimes; a community that prioritized a reputation for safety over actual safety. “Gilbert has always been worried about a black eye,” he told me. “Image is everything. It’s that nineteen-fifties sitcom where everyone’s great, then you close the door and the dad beats the wife, the kid’s an alcoholic, the daughter just had a pregnancy.”

In the nineties, leaders in Gilbert had attempted to sweep the Devil Dogs story under the rug, Sanchez said. But, in the age of social media, doing so was now impossible. Facebook groups and Reddit forums dedicated to the area’s teen violence swelled to thousands of members. City-council meetings drew overflow crowds; every month, parents gathered to march in Lord’s memory, and to make demands. They called for the mayor’s resignation, a new police chief, a task force to address the violence. After a mayoral candidate’s son was spotted in a video alongside several Goons, his father dropped out of the race. Parents organized a boycott of the Renners’ businesses; when I visited, a gym that Becky Renner used to run sported a large banner proclaiming that it was under new ownership. The address of the family’s old house was shared online. “You’ve got kids out in front of the house, and people are driving by and yelling at them and cursing at them and accusing them of being murderers,” Soelberg, the police chief, told me. At Becky Renner’s new house, the attention grew so fervid that the family moved out; several people told me that it was for rent, for ten thousand dollars a month.

By the spring, the public pressure was having an effect. Law enforcement had officially named the Goons a criminal street gang. In March, SWAT teams assembled to make arrests. “It sounded like a war zone,” someone who lived nearby told me: police shouting through bullhorns, helicopters circling overhead. Queen Creek police had recommended charging three young men—Talan Renner, Treston Billey, and Jake Meisner—with second-degree murder, and two others with lesser charges. Instead, the district attorney’s office charged seven—including Taylor Sherman, who appears not to have participated in Lord’s assault, although he filmed its aftermath—with first-degree murder. Some faced additional charges for aggravated robbery, stemming from the theft of the necklace, or for kidnapping, because Lord was allegedly prevented from escaping. All are being charged as adults and, if convicted, could face life in prison. (The D.A. has said that she won’t pursue the death penalty.) In their mug shots, some of the young men look stunned, as if the reality of their situation were only now registering.

When police asked teen-agers—Goons and their friends and ex-friends and girlfriends and ex-girlfriends—about the group, they struggled to explain it. It was a nickname from back in middle school, when Talan and Kyler and Jake were known as the Goonies. It was “a large friend group that [hung] out.” It was a group chat that turned “into this big thing.” The Gilbert Goons was just a name that other people called them, a teen associated with the group said. A name “which none of them liked.”

[ciobulletin1]

Beat the Heat: 10 Refreshing Summer Food and Drink Ideas

Without a doubt, summer has arrived! And with summertime here, the extreme heat makes everyone feel hot, tired, and uneasy. The most crucial thing to do to be healthy and persevere through this intense heat is to stay hydrated and eat foods that help the body maintain its coolness. There are healthier and more nutritional options available to help you combat the summer heat, even if it’s tempting to go for sweet drinks and ice cream. Cooling down with refreshing drinks, such as mocktails or cocktails, can be a breeze during the summer heat. It helps you quench your thirst, cool you down, and elevates your selection of refreshments.

In the article below, ten cool food and drink suggestions are listed. They can help keep you hydrated and cool on the warmest days of the year.

1. Watermelon: The Hydration Hero

The official fruit of summer and outdoor cookouts is watermelon. It replaces fluids lost through sweat and tastes like a juicy slice of hydration. Rich in antioxidants like lycopene and vitamins A and C, watermelon can help shield your skin from the sun’s damaging rays. While watermelons are a delicious snack to feast on, just as is, there are also multiple different delicious recipes out there. Watermelon is one of the tastiest summertime fruits; its juice is much better. Its hydrating qualities help keep your body moisturized and invigorated, making it incredibly refreshing.

2. Cucumber: Cooling and Crisp

Cucumbers provide a delightful crunch and keep you hydrated because they are over 95% water. They also include silica, which is known to support joint health and maintain the radiance and suppleness of your skin. Savor it in drinks, smoothies, salads, or as a snack with luscious hummus. Refreshing drinks are not only enjoyed but practically required on the hottest summer days, and cucumber is one of the best ingredients for DIY summer drinks. Cucumber and watermelon together are the perfect way to relieve your thirst because it contains two of the most hydrating foods on the planet. An easy recipe with the two includes a nice glass of white wine sangria with watermelon balls, cucumber slices, and lime slices. The most hydrating drink you will ever try!

3. Coconut Water: Nature’s Electrolyte Drink

Coconut water is a healthy substitute for sports drinks in the summertime heat, especially if you are sweating profusely. High in electrolytes like potassium and magnesium, coconut water helps replenish vital minerals lost via sweat and helps maintain appropriate hydration levels. A refreshing glass of coconut water will lift your spirits right away. Its refreshing flavor and subtle sweetness make it the ideal beverage to ward off the summertime blues. Consume enough coconut water if you feel dehydrated since it is an excellent electrolyte. 

4. Mint: The Zesty Refresher

Mint is a plant that helps you stay cool and gives your meals a flavor boost. It can be blended into smoothies or used to create cool beverages like mint lemonade. Mint leaves also make a refreshing infusion in water or an addition to salads. For an additional level of hydration and coolness, it’s always a good idea to bring its cold friend, cucumber, over for a delightful spritz in a tall glass of sparkling water.

5. Berries: Bursting with Antioxidants

Not only are berries like raspberries, blueberries, and strawberries delightful, but they are also a great source of antioxidants. These tiny powerhouses can improve your general health and shield your skin from UV harm. Snack on them, puree them into smoothies or mix them with yogurt for a tasty treat. Alternatively, pick some and consume them right from the bush!

6. Citrus Fruits: Vitamin C Boosters

Vitamin C, abundant in oranges, lemons, and grapefruits, boosts immunity and keeps the body cool in the summer. Make your zesty drinks or savor freshly squeezed juices for a nutritious and “Z’esty” boost. The best drink that is easily indulgent is the classic lime juice or lemonade, the most popular summertime beverage. This refreshing drink has ingredients like mint leaves, lemons, sugar, salt, and water. It’s really easy to create and tastes fantastic every single time. In some parts of the world, to add some distinctive flavor, you can also spice up lime juice with additions easily found in the kitchen, like cumin, coriander powder, and black pepper, among others.

7. Yogurt: A Cool, Creamy Delight

There are several ways to enjoy yogurt: a cooling and adaptable snack. In addition to supporting digestive health, it has probiotics and can be cooling on a hot day. Try making flavorful yogurt dips or parfaits with fresh fruit to make your meals filling and light. Unquestionably, one of India’s favorite curd-based drinks is buttermilk, also called chaas. The advantages of chaas, such as a fantastic digestive system, are further enhanced by spices like jeera. Enjoy this delicious masala chaas dish on any hot and sunny day. On the other hand, yogurt can be made into delicious snacks by adding berries to a bowl of plain or flavored yogurt.

8. Cilantro: Flavorful and Fresh

Based on the consensus, you either love or despise cilantro. Some people find it to be a tasty herb that gives every meal a freshness, and some cannot stand the taste of it. However, for those who love cilantro, it tastes great in cold soups, salsas, and salads. It has cooling qualities and improves digestion, and it tastes fantastic.

9. Tomatoes: Juicy and Nourishing

Tomatoes, high in vitamins A and C, also cool and support good skin. Savor them raw or sliced with a little salt for a refreshing snack, or add them to salads or gazpachos. Tomatoes are one of the most versatile foods; they can go into any mainstream dish, be made into a sauce or soup, and add flavor and tang to anything you desire. 

10. Leafy Greens: Light and Nutritious

Even though you might be eating lighter over the summer, you don’t have to give up on nutrients. Powerful sources of nutrients are leafy greens, including kale, spinach, and arugula. Their high water content keeps you hydrated and packed with important vitamins and minerals.

Conclusion

In conclusion, stay cool and healthy simultaneously, without compromising taste or flavor, with the help of food and drinks that naturally contain cooling nutrients. You’ll stay hydrated, nourished, and cool as the temperature rises by including these cool foods in your summer diet.

[thefruitpatchfriends]

Azure's Berry Dream

In a realm where fantasy and reality intertwine, there exists a magical sanctuary known as the Azure Berry Grove. At the heart of this mystical grove dwells a girl named Azure, the embodiment of its ethereal beauty. Azure, the blue raspberry-themed girl, is a vision of enchantment and grace, her presence as soothing as a gentle breeze on a summer's day.

Azure Berrybloom is adorned in hues of the deepest sapphire and the palest azure, reminiscent of the blue raspberries that thrive in her enchanted domain. Her hair cascades in waves of cerulean blue, adorned with delicate ribbons and jewels that glimmer like stars against the night sky. Her eyes sparkle with the same mesmerizing shade of blue, reflecting the boundless depths of the Azure Berry Grove.

Azure's attire is a reflection of the mystical world she calls home. She wears a flowing gown woven from the finest azure silk, embellished with intricate patterns that mimic the swirling vines of the blue raspberry bushes. Adornments of silver and crystal adorn her attire, catching the light and casting prismatic reflections that dance across her form.

Surrounded by towering trees with leaves the color of emerald and a carpet of lush green grass, Azure stands amidst the azure raspberry bushes that dot the landscape. The berries themselves are a sight to behold, their vibrant blue hue shimmering like precious gems in the sunlight. Butterflies of azure and sapphire flit through the air, adding to the enchanting atmosphere of the grove.

Azure emanates a sense of tranquility and serenity, her presence imbued with the magic of the Azure Berry Grove. The air is filled with the sweet scent of blue raspberries, a fragrance that soothes the soul and invigorates the spirit. Birds of azure plumage sing melodies of joy, their harmonious tunes blending seamlessly with the rustle of leaves and the whisper of the wind.

As day transitions into night, Azure stands at the edge of the grove, her silhouette outlined against the backdrop of the setting sun. In her hand, she holds a handful of plump blue raspberries, their sweetness a testament to the abundance and wonder of her mystical domain. With a smile that lights up the darkness like a beacon of hope, Azure bids farewell to the day, knowing that the magic of the Azure Berry Grove will endure for eternity.

[theworldimworkingtowards]

Farm and Garden Accountability:

Flower CSA

Stem Bar - build your own - Bouquet foliage building

Bouquets based on Fendi bags

Astrology Bouquets

Dinners having a living breathing bouquet (plant cuttings rooting in water/Elderberry) in the center for everyone to take home. Basil. Lotus flowers

Communal bouquet, have so many vases filled with flowers, let all attendants pick out a flower to place in the big vase, let everyone fill it out as they choose to and see what community created

Growing a section of a culinary garden that’s just foliage that’s used for folding and food packaging

Flower Fridge - to keep bouquets cool

Mushroom sex garden: Ejaculation logs 🪵- mushroom logs that look like genitalia. Mushrooms that need to penetrate ginger plants. Etc

Melody Center: Growing plants in containers of donated musical instruments. Succulents in the hole of recorders, gourds in trombones, vines through violins, grapes growing by harps, orchids on DJ equipment, Brussel sprout bells etc. having that little machine that plays music from plant vibrations present for demonstrations.

Clown garden in collaboration with a circus-Spilanthes. Amaranth. Cockscomb. Yarrow. Strawberry. Coral honeysuckle. Globe amaranth. Clematis. Amsonia blue ice. Rhubarb

Leopard spotted garden / animal print garden: White and black zigzags - Zebras + Spots of black eyed Susan - Leopard /Rarer animals and characteristics, like salamanders- Red or Orange Armyryllis

Display of ceramic Jugs for floral displays

Love letter seed box library (Seed library shaped like a love letter)

Astrology garden seed packets

12 of each seed packet- Libra- bleeding heart, mountain mint, Aries

Calendula house- having a silent safety net with calendula and sunflower or a series of garden plants that indicate this house is safe to seek rest and refuge in

Rose bushes shaped like a heart

Star garden in the form of black eyed Susan’s

Echinacea discolball shaped garden

Marigold sun

ana mendieta moss garden

Breakfast garden (garden full of plants that look like breakfast food. White Poppies with yellow centers, amaranth that looks like bacon, chives)

Egg garden (white flowers with a yellow flower center)

Tea Garden-Chamomile. Rose. Lavender. Lemon balm. Elderberry. Ginger root. Raspberry. Echinacea. Catnip. Bergamot. Strawberry. Juniper

Raised garden bed shaped like a hand

Plant growing in rain boot

Bouquet fundraiser. Bouquet for everyone who donates a certain amount for the [blank]

Gardens in the shape of clothes and then allowing them to grow past their bounds to emphasize the natural movements and pathways in a living environment’s formation and also the need for clothing to run its course

Anthropoid hotel

Garden in the shape of the [blank] lakes

Indigenous darkness garden- spirit garden- offering garden - allowance for demons and vengefuls and indifferent but powerful entities to soar and move and pass through like a fence of protections

Having dark / black plants / having plants with powerful energies like the one poisonous moon flower, having plants that flower at night, having plants whose shapes curl and form and twist, plants that offer moth home and nourishment, Cyepress, cedar, grasses with stripes, plants that hold things at bay, like willow and sweet grass, fish in the pond of the garden, black trees like the one elderberry variety,

Garden that spells out sustain

Hiding native plants and tools in a cooler and beach bag with a towel. Look and dress like tourists and sneakily plant plants and seeds

Exotic spices garden- Saffron, Ginger, Lemongrass, Vanilla Orchids, Fennel, Sumac, Lavender, Amaranth, Cardamom, Jasmine, Garlic (for Black Garlic), Shizo, rose. passionflower, Persian Basil

Bathroom bouquet - Flowers and Arrangements that are heavily scented and release oils in moisture. Lavender, eucalyptus, other mint family plants like sage

Ancestral bouquets - plants that have ancestral spirit-medicine like amaranth, marigold, rose, and more

Sex Work Garden:

Vines. Red Kitten Spinach. Strawberries. Grapes. Cherry tree. Red Velvet Okra. Strawberry spinach. Osmin Basil. Cinnamon Basil. Licorice Basil. Red Roses. Globe Eggplant. Sweet bay magnolia. Spice bush. Lotus. Bee Hive. Carnivorous plant greenhouse with fig tree. Passionflower. Orchids. Red Dahlias. Clematis (leather flower). Chokecherry.

Native plant bouquets:

4 judges,

3 top picks,

Widdling it down to 1st 2nd 3rd

Basic bouquet template printed out: two different foliages, filler flower, flower to give height, ‘star’ flower, flower to fill in any missing spots

Intention: The indigenous plants cultivated and tended to prior to contact and that have survived throughout colonization are beautiful and abundant in the ways they nourish us and our senses. Responsibly foraged and tended Native bouquets as a love letter to the land

Invasive plant bouquets

4 judges,

3 top picks,

Widdling it down to 1st, 2nd, 3rd

Basic bouquet template printed out: two different foliages, filler flower, flower to give height, ‘star’ flower, flower to fill in any missing spots

Intention: Many of the plants that were brought here, were brought here as food and medicine, or for their beauty. Invasive plants are just wildflowers, native trees and vines from other homelands, and this is a way to honor the plant as a source of nourishment while doing our part to make sure we’re taking care of the environment and it’s contexts sustainably

Having a fabric / dye garden with patron saints hung like scarecrows. A black turtleneck dyed black with tree of heaven in a nestle of tree of heaven. A red dress in a madder dye bed. Indigo blue scarf wrapped between crown of thorns in indigo field. Green cargo pants hung in clover field.

Medicinal first aid kit garden

Cascading pitcher plant deck entrance

Wampum grass bouquet - pink/purple/white grasses and floral purple bouquets

[ringneckedpheasant]

Unusual Muse Associations

Tagged by @blarrghe and I think someone else but I can’t remember who 😭 doing ehsaan though

SEASONING: cinnamon, turmeric, paprika

WEATHER: thinking of the weather on either end of spring—those first few weeks of barely-warm weather where you want to go outside in a tee shirt because it’s a whole 40°, and the days right before summer really hits where it’s always hovering around 69°.

COLOUR: jewel tones of yellow and orange

MAGICAL POWER: spirit healing w a focus on protective/preventative stuff like barriers, a little bit of creation magic that he uses on the garden and to keep his animals healthy. His only real skill with elemental magic is with lightning and I’m sure the static is really fun for someone with so much hair

HOUSE PLANT: i don’t think he owns much for houseplants but he’s the type of person to start growing things indoors a few weeks before they’re ready to plant outside, and he’s got. So many trees and shrubs and flowering plants. Just offhand I know he has: Lilacs; rhododendrons; plum, apricot, pear, and crabapple trees; raspberry, blackberry, and blueberry bushes; strawberries; lavender; russian sage; mint; catnip; bleeding hearts; irises; narcissus; daisies; chamomile. Probably a LOT of stuff for attracting butterflies also, which is making me feel Weak bc Kiernan would love hanging out in his garden so much just for that.

WEAPON: 

SUBJECT: something related to kinesiology i think but i did not realize until writing this question that modern au ehsaan went to grad school

SOCIAL MEDIA: almost exclusively pinterest. I don’t think he has an account on anything else except maybe a twitter where he posts like 3 goat pics a year and that’s it

MAKEUP PRODUCT: mascara and flavored chapstick are his go-tos but he’ll wear Fancy makeup every once in a while. @queerspacepunk once mentioned dorian putting lipstick on him right before [data expunged] so that’s. An image that will live in my head forever ❤️ 

CANDY: dark chocolate with either sea salt or chili pepper. He makes a lot of sweet stuff but it’s mostly for bull

FEAR: dragons (only real ones, all of bull’s little china figurines are fine), but also he has frequent intrusive thoughts abt terrible stuff happening to dorian/bull/their animals

ICE CUBE SHAPE: probably just regular ones, but he also has novelty ice cube trays shaped like 1) hearts and 2) dicks tucked away in a cupboard

METHOD OF LONG-DISTANCE TRAVEL: he’s a country boy with a little old truck

ART STYLE: mashup of kitschy midwestern aesthetics and islamic art. He is always crocheting blankets that look like islamic tiles

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: a satyr, maybe?

PIECE OF STATIONERY: i think what he carries on him is a little leather bound journal and both a regular pencil and a carpenter’s pencil, but at home he is like. The type of person to own boxes and boxes of sorted stationery items. 

THREE EMOJIS: 🌻🐓☀️CELESTIAL BODY: either cassiopeia or the andromeda galaxy

this was getting passed around so long ago i don't know who did it or not but pls... i would like to read abt ppl's ocs...

[girlactionfigure]

Messenger of Hope

She weighed only 68 pounds

Gerda Weissmann Klein is a Holocaust survivor and advocate for peace, tolerance and gratitude. A popular public speaker and author of a best-selling memoir, Gerda speaks to audiences around the world and received the Presidential Medal of Freedom, America’s highest civilian honor.

Gerda was born in Poland in 1924 to a middle-class Jewish family. In 1939, Germany invaded Poland, and 15-year-old Gerda hid in the basement with her parents. Her older brother Arthur received a draft notice from the Germans. He went to register with the army and was never seen again.

The Gestapo discovered the Weissmanns’ hiding place and herded them into a ghetto. In 1942, they were sent to concentration camps, where Gerda’s parents both perished. Gerda survived 3 years in a camp alongside a close friend. She later wrote:

“Ilse, a childhood friend of mine, once found a raspberry in the concentration camp and carried it in her pocket all day to present to me that night on a leaf. Imagine a world in which your entire possession is one raspberry and you give it to your friend.”

Gerda and Ilse were forced onto a 350 mile death march to avoid the advancing Allied forces. 4000 women began the death march; Gerda was one of only 120 who survived. Ilse died in her arms.

In May 1945, Gerda was liberated by the US Army in Czechoslovakia. White-haired and weighing only 68 pounds, Gerda had not bathed in three years. She was 20 years old.

A young American lieutenant, Kurt Klein, held a door open for her, and she later said that was the moment she felt like a human being again. Kurt was a German-born Jew who escaped to America in 1937. His parents died at Auschwitz. Gerda and Kurt got engaged and were married in Paris in 1946.

The Kleins moved to New York and had three children. Despite the trauma, Gerda was determined to speak and write about her experiences. She published a memoir, “All But My Life” in 1957, and it became a best-seller. The book is now in its 39th edition.

She volunteered with organizations like United Jewish Appeal, and the United States Holocaust Museum. Charismatic and engaging, Gerda became a popular public speaker. She has shared her dramatic story of survival with audiences around the world.

Gerda’s message of hope and tolerance resonates with people of all ages and backgrounds.

Gerda has met with numerous world leaders, including Eleanor Roosevelt, Golda Meir, and U.S. Presidents Harry Truman, Bill Clinton, and George W. Bush. She was the keynote speaker at the UN’s first International Holocaust Remembrance Day in 2006.

With her husband, Gerda started the Gerda and Kurt Klein Foundation to promote education, tolerance, and community service. In 2008, Gerda and her granddaughter Alysa Ullman founded Citizenship Counts, a national organization that educates students on their rights and responsibilities as citizens. Citizenship Counts encourages young people to display their gratitude for living in America by helping others.

In 2011, President Obama presented Gerda Weissman Klein with the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the nation’s highest civilian award. After giving her the medal, the President quoted Gerda’s own words:

“I pray you never stand at any crossroads in your own lives, but if you do, if the darkness seems so total, if you think there is no way out, remember, never ever give up. The darker the night, the brighter the dawn, and when it gets really, really dark, this is when one sees the true brilliance of the stars.”

For being a living testament to the tenacity of the human spirit, and for her tireless efforts to educate others, we honor Gerda Weissmann Klein as this week’s Thursday Hero.

Accidental Talmudist

[definegodliness]

A circle of daisies

When you come to the forest Don't be alarmed By the rhododendron bushes, Parting and shaping A path before your feet.

And if you'd so choose To walk that path meandering, Don't you worry about the rain Or the sun's blazing heat, For you will always be safeguarded By grand oaken canopies.

Will you wear Your dress of white?

I promise the roses will perceive you As one of their own; Let none of their thorns Hurt you.

Please bring Raspberries for the bear, I know they're out of season But he loves them And you bring the sun wherever you go So all that may grow, grows.

At least, here...

In this forest Where I've hidden a meadow For none but you to see; Where amid its grass of evergreen I have planted a circle Of pretty white daisies.

You can step in Any time, if you'd so like. You know what happens once you do.

I shall not lure you in Under false pretenses:

Let me steal you. 

Let me keep you.

Let forever be this enchanted forest With gentle flowers, protective oaks; With lollygagging wolves; A bear Of kindest spirits,

And us two.

--- 13-4-2021, M.A. Tempels ©