#the treetops will forever be 'that' family for me

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Invulnerable Poison Apple.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. This is his home, his roots, and he will cherish them always.

No matter how he may change.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

The Harveston roads stretch out for what seems like forever. Dirt paths uninterrupted by the hustle and bustle of modern life.

It's just Epel and his beloved blastcycle set at a breakneck pace. Green grass below... Mother Nature has pushed through the melting snow at last, sounding the call of spring.

The crate secured to back of his bike is always lighter on the trip home than on the trip to the closest city. With the latest load dropped off, he’s free to fly back.

He loves this feeling—the rush of adrenaline, the wind weaving through his hair. It’s a taste of home, a slice of heaven he can get nowhere else.

Up ahead, his family’s farm comes into view. The outline of their orchard, flush with the buds of new life, is a familiar sight. What's new are the crops whose heads sprout up over the treetops: a giant peach, a pumpkin large enough to be a carriage, and more—all the result of magical modification.

He grins, revving up his engine and pushing forward. Faster, faster.

Then he breaks, skidding to a halt before their wooden front porch. The engine dies, leaving only the erratic pounding of his heart in the smoke and dust.

“I’m home!!” Epel announces, dismounting. He removes his helmet and places it on his blastcycle's seat. Wisps of lilac cling to his forehead, his fair skin colored with the blush of exhilaration.

Similar heads of hair—members of the Felmier family, dressed in casual clothes and fruit-picking gloves—dot the orchard. They meet his eyes and wave.

He counts them: his mom and his dad, his aunt and uncle. His cousin is too young to get their hands down and dirty yet, so they're inside with their grandparents.

So why is there one extra body amid the apple trees? One person, hunched over on a ladder, a shaking arm outstretched to pluck the fruit.

Not her. Please, not her.

Epel immediately bolts into the fields.

The tree leaves shudder and shift, branches swaying, as if they, too, are loved ones welcoming him back. The air is sweet and uplifting, like the faintest taste of a fizzy drink.

"Meemaw? Meemaw…!!" Epel hollers, racing over to her.

She finally has a grip on the apple, gives it a firm twist, and frees it from its branch. For one frightening moment, she wobbles, threatening to topple from high up. Epel arrives just in time, grabbing onto her ladder to steady it.

He heaves a sigh.

"I told ya to try ‘n not overexert yourself…!” Epel scolds her. His hometown’s dialect slips out, smooth as butter and natural sounding to their ears. “You’re gettin’ to that age where doing physical labor ain’t the easiest. At least leave the heavy liftin’ to me ‘n the others!”

“These apples aren’t goin’ to pick themselves!!” Marja grumbles. “Would you rather trade jobs and let me be the one to run deliveries? You wanna be the one to let this old lady on the loose?”

He bites his lower lip. “No, but… I can take some of yer tasks to lighten yer workload. Please, let me.”

His grandma slowly climbs down the ladder. (Epel observes her dissent carefully and maintains his grip on her stairway.) She’s delicate, with rounded, soft features—but he knows she is anything but demure, especially upset.

When Marja lands next to him, he notices her height right away. He had always been just a bit taller than her—“My growin’ little man,” she’d say, giving him a pat on the head—but his grandma seems to have shrunken in the wash.

Marja prods him in the chest, and though she has more strength than one might give her credit for, his muscles are taut and hold their ground. He’s taller, stronger.

The same physique as a Savanaclaw student.

“Don’t get cocky with me just because you’ve hit a growth spurt ‘n yer transferrin’ to a rough ‘b tough new dorm! I’m a Felmier too.” She shoves the freshly picked apple at her grandson’s face. “Ya fell from our family tree, so you ain’t the only one who’s hardy ‘round here. Don’t worry about me so much!”

“I can’t help it, meemaw,” Epel protests. “We’re gettin’ busier and busier and it’s hard to keep up with the pace.”

“Business is boomin’. I don’t see what you’re yappin’ about!”

“Last thing I want’s for you to be shipped off to the nearest hospital cuz you hurt yourself on our produce.”

“Hush now!! I’lll be fine,” she insists with a broad smile. “I’ve got you and everyone else to count on, so I know I’m in good hands.”

Marja drops the apple into a waiting wicker basket at her feet. It lands atop a pile like a ruby laid in the center of a crown. She bends over and picks up her haul with a grunt and starts waddling towards their house.

Epel remains by her side, matching her walk with a few long strides. He may as well be helping her cross the street, but he stays at a considerable distance. Enough to be polite, but still close enough to swoop in if she takes an unceremonious fall.

“‘Sides, I work cuz I want to, not that I have to,” Marja tuts, clambering up the porch steps. Epel offers her his muscular arm, but she refuses it.

“Gotta keep these weary bones active! And… gotta do my best to support ya where I can.”

“You’ve always done that for us, meemaw.”

All that and more.

She laughs. “Yer not the little boy that needs a scoldin’ for whooping the older kids’ tuchuses anymore. Yer a man now, Epel—but even men ain’t islands. Doesn’t matter how many fights ya win by yerself, ‘s nice to have people to fall back on.”

The front door swings open. Marja shuffles inside, followed by her grandson.

“I understand what yer sayin’. Really, I do. Still, nothin’s gonna stop me from givin’ ya lip. ‘S in our blood,” Epel jokes, knocking at his temples. “Stubbornness runs in the family. I must get it from you.”

“You’re gettin’ real cheeky with me today,” Marja chuckles, setting her basket down on a counter. “I know, how about a good ol’ apple pie with all the fixings? That oughta fill yer belly and fix up yer sass.”

Epel responds with a toothy grin. “Nothin’ hits the spot like your home cooking, meemaw.”

Her eyes twinkle warmly. “Darn right.”

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Oof babygirl, we’re almost through. I can’t believe a single scene from a movie overtook me into making this lmao

Giyuu the Beast AU

The snow felt at home against his cold pale skin. Little specks of it stuck in his pitch black hair like stars in the night. His antlers brushed by the tree branches as you both passed through the garden. With winter approaching and food growing scarce, Giyuu made it a habit to walk in the gardens with you to pick food. Humans were tucked away in their homes most of the day. The most desperate creatures would be sure to try their luck at the abandoned house where only one human lives.

That was Giyuu’s reasoning after all. It made the most sense. It's not like he could feel the cold anyway. He’s much better suited for this weather than you.

You, on the other hand, dreaded the winter. In fact your first winter you almost didn’t survive. You’ve never had a good winter in your life until now. Warm in lavish robes that filled the empty mansion. You could stroll happily through the garden knowing your parents were also warm and fed.

“What should we eat tonight?” You turned to him.

“I will enjoy anything you make.” He stated.

“You always say that, is there anything that you want?”

“I’ve never wanted for anything. I see no point now.”

You playfully scoffed, “I thought you wanted to be alone in this dreary mansion forever?”

“I did, and I always made sure to scare off visitors. You are the only one who would think to come back up this mountain. You’re not that smart.”

You had learned to let his statements roll off you. “And yet you keep me around? You’re not very smart either.”

Giyuu helped you lift the baskets into the kitchen. He stood idly by, watching you. Another thing you had grown accustomed to. Having Giyuu only steps away made this mansion feel less deserted.

You two started to spend your days exploring the mansion. Giyuu never had a reason to come out of his room and only did so to hunt for food. Many of the doors were locked. Others held the clothes he had been sending back to your family. Some of them held books in foreign languages, pictures of giant boats and trains, things you had only ever heard of from travelers. At the end of the day, you would both eat and sit by the fire. It was mostly you telling him about your village and family. He would get this look in his eyes, like he was missing something. You didn’t want to open deep memories. Whatever Giyuu’s reasoning was, someone doesn’t seclude themselves on a mountain for years without reason.

“…chi.” You turned around to see Giyuu looking out the doorway to the garden.

“Did you say something?”

“I think one day, we should get mochi.” He said.

“Oh? Yeah! Let’s do that. Need to get all the ingredients first..”

“There’s a winter festival in the village. We should go get mochi then.”

You stopped chopping and fully turned to look at him. “The creatures, in the forest-”

“I’ll escort you. They wouldn’t dare.”

“The villagers would be scared-”

“I’ll stay hidden. No one will hear or see me. You should get to enjoy your life (Y/N).” He finally turned to face you with a very faint smile. “Let's go to the festival.”

You hadn’t seen his face since that night. Was he always this?… You snapped out of your thoughts and smiled back. “Okay! We’re going to the festival.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You were somehow more nervous than him. You pulled your scarf closer as you stepped into the cool air. The lights from the village lit up the valley. Months ago you would have been jumping for joy but now, you felt a pit in your stomach. You suddenly jolted as Giyu hoisted you up in his arms.

“Sorry, are you ready to go?” He wore a white fox max with light blue eyes. It looked like it had been cracked in the middle and stuck together.

“Y-Yes.” You felt that familiar swell in your chest. With that same incredible speed, Giyuu traveled down the mountain. You buried your face close to his chest to try and keep from screaming as you leaped across treetops. You stopped just outside of the view from the village’s path entrance. Giyuu gently sets you down.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright? You have been around people for a while.”

“Don’t worry about me, enjoy your night. I’ll be close by if anything happens.” He handed you a bag full of coins.

“I’ll bring you some food.” You smile. He hands over another fox mask with blue ears. This one looks as clean as the one he’s wearing. You shoot him another smile before stepping out onto the village path.

Even with the mask on, you felt exposed and open to everyone around you. This village was much larger than yours. Stalls lined the street with food you could only dream about. Children ran through the streets and the whole town came to life. Occasionally you would stop to grab food and sneak over to a secluded area to eat with Giyuu. Even the Sakura Mochi that started this whole adventure was delicious.

“This is delicious, I’ve never had food this good!” You swooned.

“It’s been so long since I’ve eaten like this.” Giyuu said on his fourth skewer.

“Do you come to the village often?”

“No, never. I’m glad I had you here to enjoy this night with.”

“Of course! We should do this every time a festival comes!”

Everytime… Giyuu hadn’t thought that far ahead. It was only natural that you’d still be with him for the next festival and however many come after that. That would be nice to continue the way you two do. Could he stay like this forever with you? Does he even deserve such a thing? No time to think about all that, not while you look so happy.

“I’m gonna get some more grilled squid- oh! Dango too!” You cheerfully walked back to the festival street. As you were putting on your mask you collided with another person.

“I’m so sorry!” You reached out to help her up. She took your hand and brushed off her Sakura patterned kimono. On her head she wore a mask similar to yours with yellow ears and blue flowers.

“It’s okay,” she smiled. “Oh, I don’t recognize you, or that mask. Did you make it?”

“My friend did. He’s around here… somewhere.” You suddenly felt very exposed again. Her bright blue eyes scanned over you like she was trying to memorize everything about you.

“Oh! It’s just that, my grandpa makes fox masks just like that! Grandpa!” She called to an old man in a red tengu mask. He walked with a cane and a limp. Despite the cold weather, he hardly wore much aside a white scarf around his head.

He leisurely strolled over. “Grandpa, doesn't this look like one of your masks?”

“It does.” He spoke. “Did you make this young lady?”

“N-No. My friend did. He’s very shy.” You stammered out. How did I manage to get myself into this?!

“Oh your boyfriend? Are you both from around here?” The girl asked.

“No! We’re- uh- travelers. Not dating! Just friends!”

“That means you traveled through the mountain pass. I hope you have somewhere to sleep tonight. They say it’s cursed up there.”

“I-Is it now?”

“Makomo, don’t scare the poor girl.” The old man chastised her.

“Sorry,” she chuckled. “But it is a great story. They said two boys went up the mountain to battle a ferocious beast! One of them was eaten and the other was cursed to stay on the mountain forever!”

“Really?” You said in disbelief. “Forever you say?..”

The old man cleared his throat, “Are you alright miss?”

“Yes I just… I was just thinking how incredibly lonely the boy must be.”

The old man’s demeanor shifted. “You have a good heart then. I’ll let you get back to the festival. Hopefully, I’ll be able to meet that friend of yours. His craftsmanship could be better, come on Makomo.”

They both waved you off as you stared at the fox mask. You ran your fingers over the rough texture of the mask before putting it back on.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The night faded away as you and Giyuu silently made your way back up the mountain. He hadn’t said anything since you stepped on the mansion. You took off your mask to hand it to him but he stopped you. “You keep it. For whenever you go again.”

“I couldn't make it down the mountain alone.”

“I’ll show you a path to get there tomorrow, goodnight (Y/N).”

You reached for his hand and pulled him closer to you. He still didn’t look at you but followed as you lead him to sitting room. You lit the fireplace and sat next to him.

“What do you want to know?” He asked.

“Whatever you want to tell me.”

⋆☾⋆

“Hey! Are you okay?!” Giyuu couldn’t register what the young boy told him. He had been wandering for days. His clothes were ripped, his hair was matted and had a thousand-yard stare. He recoiled as the peach-haired boy reached out to him.

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you. Let me help you.”

Just like the peach-haired boy, Sabito, Giyuu had lost his family. He wandered into the village at the bottom of the mountain, half dead and starving. Sabito carried the boy on his back to his little house. It was just him and the woodcutter. A strict old man who occasionally made masks. They took the boy in, fed and clothed and let him rest for the next coming days. With nowhere to go, their family gained a new member.

Urokodaki would tell them everyday to be careful when chopping down trees and exploring the woods. High on the closest mountain in the valley was an old mansion. Anyone that went up there, never returned. The boys knew this story very well and didn’t stray too far with Urokodaki in sight.

Giyuu didn't mean to get lost, he was confused on how the forest he grew to know like the back of his hand could change so much. He could see the lake from where he was but it never got closer the further he walked down. He called out for anyone to find him but it was no use. It will be dark soon. He stumbled around some more until he fell into a wooden fence. He traveled around the perimeter until he reached a gate and saw a lush garden of fruits and vegetables. Before he could step in, a hard fist came down on the back of his head.

“Giyuu! I’ve been looking for you everywhere! We have to get home!” Sabito yelled and pulled the boy by his arm.

Giyuu snapped out of his trance and hurried after Sabito. He still felt something pulled at him to look back at the mansion. The air suddenly turned cold. They could see the lake but it wasn’t getting any closer. The summer cicadas stopped chirping as the sun dipped below the water.

“S-Sabito, I’m so-”

“Put your mask on Giyuu.” Sabito guarded Giyuu, with axe in hand. Giyuu’s hand shook as he tied his mask around him. He clutched onto Sabito’s free arm and they slowly stepped backwards down the path.

The forest went silent and freezing cold. You both stopped suddenly, waiting, listening for the noise again.

Giyuu heard it. He pushed Sabito forward as the long arm out from the trees, hoisting him high in the air. Giyuu thrashed around in the creature's arm, calling for Sabito and Urokodaki.

“Let him go!” Sabito plunged the axe into the wood like bony arms. He hacked away at the incoming branches. Just as his arms were about to give out, a figure came running up the path. It jumped onto the bony arm and ran up its length to slice it at the wrist. It grabbed Giyuu by his collar as they plummeted back to earth.

“Are you okay?” He asked as the dust cleared from impact.

“Urokodaki?” Giyuu exclaimed.

“Haven’t I told you not to wander alone boy!” He yelled, pulling both boys by their arms. He hugged them tightly, letting out a deep sigh. “I thought I lost you both.”

The wooden arm began to twitch and sprung to life as it clamored back to the figure standing just beyond the trees.

“We meet again, hunter.”

Urokodaki drew his sword, “You leave my boys out of this.”

“I’ll take them both as payment for my imprisonment!” He lunged forward. His many branches swiped and clawed at the three of them. Giyuu was barely avoiding them and Sabito hacked away. Urokodaki, in his old age, wasn’t faring too well either. The monster had swiped at his leg, taking a considerable amount. He tumbled back bleeding.

“Urokodaki!” Sabito yelled.

“Leave me! Take my sword, you two run!”

With a heavy heart Sabito grabbed the sword and ran towards Giyuu.

“W-Where’s Urokodaki?!”

“No time! We need to run!” He handed him the axe.

Giyuu followed closely behind as the trees began to warp and move erratically around them. Branches would shoot out at them. They stayed strong, slicing and cutting through the branches. One branch shot out and Sabito lifted the sword to swing. Out of the corner of his eye he saw another sharper one shoot out from his rear. He pulled Giyuu closer, letting the branch impale his side.

“No!” Giyuu cried out. “No! No! Sabito please!”

“Run, Giyuu run!” Sabito choked out.

“No! I’m not leaving you!”

The demon chucked, “You are Urokodaki’s student, only someone like him would think there’s a chance of winning right now.”

“You!” He growled. He grabbed the sword and pointed it towards the demon. The demon chuckled again at Giyuu’s futile attempts to swipe at him. A large branch bent from a tree and wrapped around Giyuu’s throat. Giyuu clawed and scratched at the branch. He hacked away at what he could reach but the branch would not yield.

“Your family is going to die little human, all because of you and your love.”

Giyuu’s consciousness started to fade after that. When he awoke his form had changed drastically. He stepped out from the porch of the mansion and a flurry of snow appeared beneath his feet. The monster was gone. And he was all that remained.

⋆☾⋆

You didn’t say anything. You gently hugged him. His body stiffened and relaxed into your embrace. “You must of been so scared. I’m so sorry Giyuu.”

He hesitantly wrapped his arms around you. For the first time, in 8 long years, Giyuu felt warm.

⋆☾⋆

A day's journey away from the mountain and valley, your family stood in front of a large crowd or hungry and angry villagers.

“We all have to starve this winter and your getting new clothes and food!” One woman yelled

“When I begged you all to help me, you all turned me away!” Your father yelled “My child only ever helped this village! You want food?! Send your own children to the beast! Feel what I have suffered!”

A stranger was in the crowd, not from this village or any village this side of the mountain range. He looked over to his partner, “A beast that asks for sacrifices? Doesn’t that sound familiar?”

In my personal headcannon, Sabito is more mature than Giyuu cause he grew up quicker. Giyuu seems a lot more childlike cause he’s still getting use to his new life and family. Also I tried to be historically accurate but guys- just suspend your disbelief- PLEASE-

[lizzy-calaxio]

Shock

I stare at the limp body of my friend in front of me.

This is my fault.

The others look around the waking sands for any survivors. I should be doing that too.

I should’ve prevented Noraxia from joining. My heart breaks.

I feel a hand on my shoulder. I don’t know whose it is. My eyes tunnel out everything outside of Noraxia.

I pick up my friend. I silently carry them out of the waking sands. I begin walking to Little Solace.

Home. My home. Our home.

If there was any attempts at stopping me, they didn’t work. If anyone tried offering a ride, I didn’t notice.

This is my fault.

I could have stopped this.

By what right do I have to call myself a sylph, when I caused this.

It’s night by the time I get to Little Solace. The sylphs greet me as usual, their mood souring when they see Noraxia in my hands.

I weakly explain what happened.

I offer full blame for Noraxia’s death on my own hands.

“These ones do not accept Lizzy one as the blame. Lizzy one has done Little Solace proud.”

The words echo off of my horns.

I climb a tree to get to my hut among the treetops. I saw my room earlier this morning, yet it looks more empty now. It feels wrong for me to claim this spot.

After a few hours of trying to sleep, but being unable to find it, I hop out of the trees. My landing silent aside from the thud of my tail slapping the ground.

I begin to walk into the dark forest.

I think about all of the ways this could have gone differently.

I think about how I could have prevented this tragedy.

I find myself at my broken home. The Frizzle household.

Where I should have died. Another child lost to starvation from the calamity.

Maybe a part of me did die there. A part of me died with my parents.

I walk into the derelict house. Pictures of a happy family are on the walls.

Some on the floor.

The floorboards are weak and rotted.

I can smell mold in the house.

Fungus, moss, and other plantlife have also taken root.

I find myself upstairs. My parents room still closed.

I open the door and see a present on their dresser.

“To Elizabeth, Happy 12th Birthday! With Absolute Love, Mom and Dad”

I feel the tears on my cheeks.

I open the box, too many years late.

A conjurer’s wand rests inside.

Memories of signing with mom flood my brain.

“I want to be an adventurer like you!”

“I want to heal people!”

Rotten.

No you don’t. You’re a weapon.

You can’t heal anyone.

You can’t even help your family.

I curl up on my parents bed.

I remember the nights when I had nightmares and would climb into their bed.

I remember my mom’s arms wrapped around me.

I remember the comfort I once knew, lost forever to time.

[allthewriteplaces]

Magnolia In May - Chapter One

Hello, everyone! I have been working since May to create this fanfiction and now, I am here to share it with you all! 🤍 That being said, thank you for being so patient with me while I try and pluck up my courage and get over writer's block to post this.

My story takes place in between seasons 5 and 6, with a few changes here and there because yes.

Story summary: Jessie Bennet lives in the English countryside with her uncle, her aunt and her five cousins. But one day in May, an unexpected visitor shows up on her doorstep, one who's about to change the course of her life forever.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 4551

Chapter One

I first met Thomas Shelby a year ago. It was a supposedly ordinary day in early May, the time of year when spring made its debut in the form of warm, flowery breezes, budding leaves on the treetops and scattered rain showers throughout. The days were getting longer, the nights were slowly shrinking back away, and the sun was starting to make more of an appearance, a rare sight in England, considering it was under a seemingly near constant cover of clouds. Even in the winter, it always seemed to be cloudy. Cold enough to snow, but I hadn’t seen snow on the ground since I was small. 

Because of the sunshine streaming into our bedrooms, me and the rest of my family had risen earlier than usual to get a head start on the daily chores. 

Everyone had a job to do and we ran on a tight schedule, like a crew on the Navy ships, especially on the Holy days, when the main goal was to get everyone ready and out the door in time for Sunday Service. Today was Saturday, and while I would have been more than happy to spend a few more hours in bed, there was plenty of work to be done around the cottage. 

I had spent the better part of my life here. Just before my parents died, my mother took my hands in her cold, clammy ones, I looked into her greying eyes as the hazy film began to cloud over them, and she told me I was going to live with my Uncle Albert, my Aunt Elizabeth, whom everyone else called her ‘Eliza,’ and my two older cousins, Sarah and David, in Warwickshire, the heart of the English countryside. 

She said the cottage was surrounded by miles and miles of tall fruit trees, rolling hills and lush green fields and a lake nearby. She promised that it would be my sanctuary, my own paradise, somewhere I can let all of my troubles go. 

Of course when I got there that cool, autumn morning, I was intrigued by the beauty of it all. The main road ran through orchards, past rivers and lakes, and continued onto the next town. Now and then, there were the occasional settlements where our neighbours lived and I could see the fires at night or could hear the lively music. I automatically sensed that this was where people came to get away from the stress of city life. 

Aunt Eliza, that’s what I called her, had already had her fair share of stress, her first husband died from something called consumption, leaving her with my older cousins to raise by herself on a maid’s salary. She was a pretty and sensitive woman, but though I wouldn’t call her a fighter, she was strong in her own way. 

She had this natural-born ability to put anyone at ease just by being in the same room as they were. That first night at the new place, when my homesickness was at its absolute worst, she let me sleep in the big bed with her so I would feel safe, saying. “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.” 

Eliza came from a big family and had been raised Protestant by her parents in Glasgow, but after she met Uncle Theo, her first husband, she had sacrificed everything they knew and loved, to give their six kids, including my mother, a better life. My best memories of them were when my mother and I drove all the way across the Highlands to visit them during summer holidays and at Christmastime. 

Uncle Albert came into the picture shortly after Sarah got married and set off on her own path. The only trouble was, he was Catholic. The battle between Catholics and Protestants was rooted in history, and I wasn’t sure the reason, but it didn’t stop Eliza from falling in love with him. Like Romeo and Juliet, they went against their parent’s wishes and married in secret in a beautiful chapel. After which she eventually converted to catholicism. 

Tension was high in the family once my grandparents found out about the marriage, it was common for disputes to start, sometimes from the smallest thing, and during those arguments, which seem so petty now, I would be sent to my room to play and asked that I play as loud as I could so I wouldn’t hear the fighting. 

Eventually, I had enough and actually ran away from home. It was stupid, really, I shouldn’t have done it, but I just couldn’t stand it. It was Uncle Albert who found me, soaked to the skin and sick as a dog from being out in the rain for so long. 

The only good thing about it, was that for once, they weren’t shouting at each other, they were all hovering over me and my grandfather was calling for a doctor. Me running away seemed to snap them out of it, if only for just a few minutes, I still remember opening my teary eyes and saying, “Why doesn’t anyone love each other anymore?” 

That was when it hit them, just how much this was impacting me, a small child of ten years old, who was somehow trapped in the middle of this feud that had nothing whatsoever to do with me, and doing whatever it took in an attempt to stop it. 

Tears were shed and everyone embraced each other. A truce was formed that day. No more yelling, no more shouting. And to this day, we still see each other around the holidays. 

It was nearly six o’clock when I rolled over in bed, roused by the sunlight streaming in through the thin veil of curtains covering my bedroom window. The sky had taken on glorious shades of pink, orange and violet, casting shadows on the canopy and on the striped walls. I didn’t want to move from that spot, I wanted to stay in bed where it was nice and comfortable, but the second I heard three-month-old Violet, the baby of the family, babbling in her crib, I lifted the sheets back and rolled out, making sure the sheets were tucked in and there weren’t any wrinkles as I tucked the corners of them into the mattress. 

Making my way out of my room, shutting the door tightly behind me, her little voice carried through the hallway. She wasn’t in distress or anything, she was only talking to herself. When I stepped into her room and peeked into her crib, she was laying flat on her back, eyes wide open and a bright smile on her face. 

“Someone's wide awake, eh?” I said and her smile brightened. 

Look, I know I wasn’t supposed to have a favourite cousin, but from the moment I had watched her enter the world -- it was the first time I’d seen a baby be born, ever, so it was all brand new to me, I felt this strong connection to her, and this overwhelming sense of responsibility to protect her from any sort of harm that might come to her. 

Reaching down into the crib, I picked her up with both hands and held her against my chest, ensuring her head and neck were supported, seeing as how she wasn’t quite strong enough to hold her head up on her own just yet. 

“Mama says we need to find your pink cardigan to wear. I believe I put it in the closet after bringing it inside, but I’m not sure.” I added in a calm, soothing voice as she yawned and nuzzled her head against my chest. I bounced her lightly on my hip and went over to the dresser, opening the middle drawer and pulling out her fuzzy pink cardigan as well as a new nappy. 

“Jessie!” I turned to the doorway and saw Alice standing there with her hands on her hips. She looked so much like my aunt when she did that it wasn't funny. “Marie stole my hair ribbon again!” 

“Did not!” Marie yelled, stomping her foot. 

“Did, too!” Her sister yelled back. “You take them all the time!” 

“Not this time!” Marie shook her head. She was on the verge of tears. 

“Surrender now or suffer the consequences!!” Suddenly, the door burst open and Henry, who'd just turned six, started running around the room, followed by his twin brother, William. Both of them were still wearing their nightshirts, their hair was still spiky and stuck up in odd places, and as they chased one another around the room, they brandished wooden swords. 

Like most boys their age, they were always running around the house with their toy cars, trucks and planes, or roughhousing with each other. Roughhousing wasn’t allowed indoors and there were strict rules, set by my uncle, as to how far they could go before they would be told to end the game to prevent anyone from getting hurt. Their sisters were always welcome to join in the fun, and sometimes they did if the game they were playing was interesting enough for them, but most of the time it was just the two of them, conjuring mischief. 

“No! I won fair and square,” William argued, folding his arms across his chest, his voice raising in volume. He had a loud voice for a six-year-old and he knew exactly how to use it when he thought it was necessary. 

“No! I won!” Henry insisted.  “Admit it, you cheated!”

“I didn’t cheat, you did, you mongrel!” 

“I’m not a mongrel, you are!” 

“Mongel!” Marie repeated, pointing to Henry, then to William, then to Alice. 

“Stop saying bad words!” Alice gasped. “I’ll tell Mama!” 

“Oi! What did I say about calling your brother names?” I said. 

“He started it!” said Henry, pointing a finger at William. 

“And where did you hear such foul language?” 

“Timmy Munson,” he replied, twirling the wooden sword in his other hand. 

“Yeah,” said William. “He called his brother, Davy, that word last Sunday on the way back from Church. Then he wrestled him to the ground and got all muddy and dirty. His parents didn’t even bat an eye. They were too busy ” 

That explains it. 

Timmy Munson was nearly sixteen and was referred to as the ‘leader of the pack.’ or the town’s trouble maker by the adults around him. He swore, he smoked, he stole his father’s liquor and teased the girls at church something terrible, with the parents seemingly oblivious to what was going on, or decidedly ignoring his rebellious behaviour, hence why neither Henry, nor William were allowed to play with Timmy, and the girls weren’t allowed to speak to him. 

My aunt and uncle thought he was a bad influence and they were right. There were rumours that he was dating Misty Bradford, Father Bradford’s daughter. At Church, we called all the leaders ‘Father.’ His daughter, Misty, was fifteen, not quite old enough to start dating yet, but Alice once told me that she heard her say that he was handsome, but also, that he was the sort of boy that would date you for five minutes and then as soon as a prettier girl would come along, he would leave you without a second thought. 

On the other hand, I was glad that Misty was a sensible girl who wouldn’t fall to the temptations of the neighbourhood scoundrel, but on the other hand, I wondered if the reason why Timmy acted out was because it was the only way he got his parents’ attention. Maybe that was just my instincts kicking in, but if that was the case, I would certainly feel terrible for the poor lad. Even still, I wanted to discourage the boys from picking up such nasty habits and words. 

“Right, well, just because Timmy Munson says something or does something, doesn’t mean you should, eh?” I said, gently placing my hands on William’s shoulders and looking him square in the eyes. He met my gaze unflinchingly, which told me he was really listening to what I was saying to him. “Don’t try to be someone you’re not just to fit in. You are a sweet and caring young man, and we need more caring men in this world nowadays.” 

“Really?” he asked. 

“Really.” I nodded my head in confirmation. “Besides, girls love boys who are sweet, kind and caring and who get along with their brothers and sisters. At least that’s what I’ve heard.” 

He nodded and tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I say, let’s call it a tie, then.” 

William shrugged his shoulders microscopically. “Sounds fair,” 

“Now shake hands. Like the good sports you are.” 

They shook hands, laughing to themselves, signalling a truce. 

“GAAAAAAH!” Violet shrieked near my ear, kicking her feet and looking at her brothers as I delicately pulled her arms through the sleeves of her nightgown, putting it in a basket so I could take it to the laundry tub and wash it later on. 

I wasn’t sure if she was telling them to stop, or if she was taking a side in the disagreement. I placed her down on the bed along with her new clothes. Hearing her little shriek, both of the boys climbed up on the bed next to her. Henry nuzzled her tummy with his nose and William tickled her with his finger, making silly faces and noises. Her eyes crinkled and I could see the giggles bubbling up inside her, like the lava bubbling up inside a volcano and after a few seconds, she exploded into shrieks of laughter. 

“Anyone puts a tear in your eye,” Henry vowed, “will live to regret it.” 

“Yeah,” William agreed. “We’ll protect you. Like good big brothers.” 

Good, I thought, That’s one problem solved. 

Small disagreements were common among the four of them, and it was nothing I couldn’t handle, but it was too early for them to start bickering, and for some reason, I could feel this tension in the house, like something was about to happen, and they must have felt it, too, because normally, they were all well-behaved. 

“Right, Marie, I’m going to ask you once. Did you take Alice’s hair ribbon?” 

“No,” she answered, looking me straight in the eyes, which told me she was telling me the truth and that this time she was innocent. She had a habit of taking her sister’s hair ribbons when hers got lost, it was something that started a little 

“Are you sure?” She nodded affirmatively and I addressed Alice. “Alice, Marie says she didn’t take the ribbon, are you sure it’s not in your room? Perhaps it fell out while you were sleeping. See if it’s in your bed.” 

“Okay,” Alice said slowly and then quickly ran back to her room with Marie running after her. Soon, both of the girls returned, both wearing relieved expressions on their faces, though Alice appeared to be a tad more embarrassed than her sister. She glanced down at the ground, a tad embarrassed and then she met Marie’s eyes. “I’m sorry I accused you. I just thought that maybe since you steal my ribbons all the time that you stole this one.” 

“It’s okay,” the younger one replied, accepting her sister’s apology and embracing her. Internally, I sighed in relief. Like I said, small disagreements were common, but nonetheless, I was glad that it was over and we could all continue on with our day as if nothing had happened. 

“Alright, all of you go into your rooms while I finish getting the baby ready and then I will be in shortly,” I declared and the boys slid off the bed, bringing their toy swords with them. The girls followed suit, going into their own room. I turned to Violet, who was recovering from giggling so much. “Never a dull moment, eh, sweetheart?” 

Trust me, making sure all of my younger cousins were dressed in clean clothes and had their hair combed before breakfast, was a lot easier said than done. 

She babbled on while I dressed her and I sang an upbeat song. It didn’t take much to keep her entertained and knowing how to keep her engaged made it easier for me to wash and dress her. After a moment, I managed to slip the cardigan on, then taking her in my arms again, I brought her down to the dining-room where Albert was reading the paper. 

“Isn’t it a little early for that, Uncle?” I asked. 

“It’s five o’clock somewhere, love,” he replied, setting his gin down and then taking the baby in his arms, lifting her into the air and bringing her down again, kissing her cheeks. “There’s my little princess.” 

“You are not to drink that around the baby,” my aunt said, coming into the room and taking away the glass before turning to me. “Glad to see you’re wide awake, darling. How’re the children, they’re not giving you a hard time, are they?” 

“Nah. We had a tiny dispute with a ribbon and swords, but it’s all sorted.” 

“Jessie, what would we do without you?” she patted my cheek and then stepped back into the kitchen. 

Smiling and with one child ready, I went to check on Alice and Marie. Alice was the oldest at seven years old and fancied herself to be quite grown up in comparison to her siblings. She was an exact replica of her mother -- curly red hair, green eyes and freckles dotting her cheeks and loved helping me with the chores like laundry, making the beds, and occasionally cooking. 

She sat patiently on the chair in front of the mirror and her eyes met mine in the glass as the soft bristles of the brush swept across her hair. Adding a little bit of water to the brush helped to smooth out any tangles and maintain her pretty locks. 

Marie handed me the red ribbons while I braided Alice's hair in two even plaits down her back. However, when it was her turn, she wasn't as eager to be in the same room as me. In seconds, she'd already darted down the hall. 

 “Come along, Marie.”

“No! I don’t want to!” She shouted in protest and sat down in the middle of the floor, kicking her legs as I approached her. This was typical three-year-old behaviour, according to my friends who were already married and mother's, and these days, Marie had resorted to these sorts of tactics whenever things weren't going her way.  

Discipline wasn't exactly my forte. I tended to prefer negotiating or compromising rather than escalating the conflicts further by scolding. More often than not, it worked, but perhaps today the odds weren't in my favour.  

Without saying a word, I sat down on the ground, not engaging in conversation or looking at her until she stopped kicking. She laid on her stomach, her whole body now limp on the hardwood floor. 

“Now, Marie, is this the way young ladies behave?” I asked her, keeping my tone firm yet gentle. I was compelled to rub her back and soothe her, but coddling her and talking to her as if she were a baby would only encourage the tantrums or make them worse. “You don’t see your sister acting like that, do you?” 

She didn't answer me, but not because she was ignoring my question, but because she was considering the way she'd handled the issue. A few moments later, I tried again, hoping to get to the bottom of this. 

“Do you want to tell me why you don't want your hair brushed?”

“It will hurt.” I heard her sad, muffled voice reply. 

“Not if I use the soft brush,” I promised, then added, “what if I let you do it yourself like a big girl?”

 That seemed to draw her attention and she sat up and nodded. 

“You can wear red ribbons, too!” Alice added, doing her best to be helpful. 

“Yay!” She stood, taking my hand and soon enough, we were back in the girls' room, showing Marie how to brush her own hair. Then I braided it for her and put the ribbons in. At the same time, the boys came in, dressed and with their hair combed. 

“Well then, now that we're all dressed, shall we go down to breakfast?” 

“Yes,” they all answered unanimously and I led the procession downstairs. 

This time, it was the boys' turn to go to the henhouse to collect the eggs. 

They stepped into the hallway, slipping on their jackets and boots and followed Albert out the back door. The hens could sometimes be unpredictable and that would frighten the boys so he would always supervise. 

In the meantime, I would go to help my aunt prepare the biscuits and wash the strawberries and the girls would be in charge of setting the table. Alice carried in the forks and knives, while Marie was entrusted to carry in the napkins. 

“Well done!” I said once I stepped in to check the progress. Both girls smiled proudly at their accomplishment and they grinned at the praise. When we all worked together as a unit, things ran smoothly. 

Moments later, we all sat down at the table and held hands, bowing our heads low and closing our eyes as Albert led us in prayer, as was the tradition at family mealtimes. “Bless us, Lord of all Creation, and be with us as we share this meal. We thank you for our food and ask your blessing on those who prepared it. We thank you for the gift of our family. Amen.” 

Even little Violet knew what to do, well, in her own little way, of course. She sat in her chair and raised her hands up high, clapping them and uttering an exclamation of joy. For what was supposed to be a serious moment, she sure knew how to lighten things up. 

Topics of conversation usually involved upcoming and current events, anything Albert could gather from the paper, and plans for the day. I knew that I needed to do a bit more washing today and we needed to check on the chickens. 

“Due to a close call with a fox last night, we need to go out in the backyard to check on the coop. I suspect some of the wiring has been messed with and so we might need to replace it. That will be our task today, boys,” he said, and then glanced at William and Henry, who nodded. 

“Is the fox okay?” asked Marie, whose main concern didn’t necessarily match all the others’ who were more relieved that the fox hadn’t managed to carry off one of our hens. She was a very sensitive child and loved all animals, including those that some might consider pests. 

Foxes were among the ones she cared about the most. 

A few months ago, she heard one crying not far from the house and found that it was caught in a trap. She was distressed, tears streaming down her cheeks and breathing so fast, I thought she might faint. 

“Please,” she said, hands folded together, begging. “We have to save it!” 

“It would make a lovely coat,” William joked, but Marie didn’t find his attempt to lighten the mood the least bit funny. In fact, she was this close to smacking him across the face, and the Good Lord knows that she probably would have had my aunt not been present.  

“They’re God’s creatures, too,” she said passionately, appalled by the injustice she was seeing before her and by the fact that her older brother, although he meant no harm by the statement, was mocking the poor thing. “Daddy, please, we have to save it before it’s too late.” 

Fortunately, using a few tools from the garden shed, Albert managed to free the fox, but its leg was badly wounded. That is where my aunt came in. 

She knew exactly what to do when it came to nursing wounded and baby animals back to health. She grabbed some gauze from the First Aid kit, placed it over the wound, and wrapped a bandage around the leg. 

Of course it would be too dangerous to release it until it was all better, so it was agreed that the critter would stay for a couple of weeks. It was nice having her around. We called her Pumpkin, because of the orange colour of her fur and because we’d found her in the autumn, so it made sense her namesake would match the season. 

Let’s just say it was hard for us to let her go, especially for Marie. 

Now we sat at the table and part of me suspected that Marie hoped we would get another chance to look after a fox. Albert set down his knife and fork and nodded. “It looked as though he’d managed to free himself just in the nick of time, so yes, I would say he is perfectly fine.” 

“And he will continue to be fine. As long as the little rascal doesn’t get into the coop again,” my aunt added with a light-hearted smile. “Right then…” 

Just then, the telephone in the living room rang. 

“Alice, could you go get that, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Mama,” she got out of her chair, walking past Violet, who had now amused herself by looking down at her toes, and picked it up on the second ring, a second later, she called out, “It’s for you, Papa!” 

“Who on Earth could be calling at this hour?” she asked, confused as he cleared his throat, setting down his napkin and then taking the phone from Alice. 

He spoke in a low voice, so it was impossible for any of us to hear anything, but we all remained silent and still, that is until he came back into the dining-room, looked at my aunt and then nodded, as though conveying some sort of secret message. 

“Help me clear the table, children,” was all she said and the younger ones did as they were told. There was that tension in the air again. It was even more palpable this time as she hurriedly turned on the tap and added soap to the mix. I immediately stood from the table and helped her scrub the plates and utensils clean. 

“What’s the matter?” I asked. Behind me, the children continued to bring the glasses over. The only one who seemed oblivious to what was going on, was Violet, who was smashing her fists quite aggressively against the tray of her chair and shrieking loudly, in an attempt to get someone’s attention. 

“I am expecting someone important,” Albert said, while my aunt immediately opened the cabinet for a bottle of gin. Before I could utter another word, he waved a hand towards the staircase in a dismissive and almost urgent sort of way. “Go upstairs and play in the Nursery. Neither of you are allowed to come downstairs until your mama and I say so. Understand?”

“Yes, Papa,” the children said softly. 

“Who is coming over?” Henry inquired. 

“Is it someone from work?” added Marie. 

“Maybe it’s Grandpa and Granny,” said Alice excitedly. 

“Off you go,” he said. 

Without questioning him, I nodded and took the kids upstairs to the nursery, shutting the door tightly behind me.

~ To Be Continued ~

[your-talos-is-problematic]

WIP WIP Hooray!

Happy WIP Wednesday and thank you @thequeenofthewinter and @skyrim-forever for the tags! Tagging @throughtrialbyfire and @trickstarbrave (note- I think there might be people I’m leaving out so if anyone wants to be included in my default tags please ask!)

Here’s some very far-apart snippets from the little adventure of Afonya and Brelyna getting married (or trying to). It’s a pretty self-indulgent WIP, mostly just for funsies and to practice writing Brelyna’s parents. I’m really sad that I had to cut out the line “I’m marrying my wife” from it though :( didn’t fit with the timeline anymore

————————————————————————

“Something’s bothering you, love.” She ran a hand through the bottom of my hair.

I released a long sigh and rested my elbow on the railing. “There is.”

She smiled. “Are you going to tell me, or-“

“I want to get married.”

“Me too, love, but we’re already married.” She twisted my hair around her finger with a laugh.

“Officially. Under Azura,” I explained.

“Oh.” She dropped my hair. “In Morrowind.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Which would mean… my parents,” she said, shakily.

“Yeah.”

She stared out into the snow beyond us. “I haven’t seen my parents in four years, I think. Or heard from them.”

“If it’s any consolation, I haven’t seen mine in almost eight,” I offered.

“It’s not.”

“Sorry.” I laid my hand on hers. “I know it’s a lot, Brey. But I want to be with you forever, and I want my Lady and my homeland to know it.”

“Vvardenfell’s far.” Her voice was quiet.

“We’re wealthy. We could get there and back easily.”

She sat down. “Vvardenfell. My home.” Her eyes widened. “My family.”

I crouched in front of her. “I don’t want to pressure you. You don’t have to decide now.” I reached out a hand to help her up. “Let’s go back to bed.”

She pulled herself up, folding me into a hug. I kissed her temple. “How many hours until sunrise?” she asked.

I scanned the sky, searching for stars above the treetops. “Three and a half.”

“Yay.” Brelyna sounded tired. I led her into the house, down the stairs, and back into our room. Once we were in bed, I stared at the ceiling, waiting to make sure I heard Brelyna’s snoring, before I let myself drift off.

I woke up at sunrise the next morning, as usual.

“Don’t tell him about the Thieves’ Guild,” she said. I looked up at her, eyebrows knitted. She stared at me a few seconds before realizing. “Wait! No. Definitely tell him about the Thieves’ Guild. I think he’s hired Morrowind’s a few times.”

“There you go.” I smiled. “I definitely won’t mention the Maven part, though.”

“That’s a good idea,” she said.

Onmund looked up from his notebook. “You really have me writing down which parts of Afonya to not talk about?”

“My dad’s scary, Onmund,” Brelyna said, eyes wide. “He once told me that he could tell someone’s social status from the way they held themselves. Most judgmental person I’ve ever met.”

“And you’ve lived with Altmer,” I joked. She rolled her eyes.

Onmund sighed. “Fine. You have Azura, the Thieves’ Guild, and all your Thane stuff. That’s missing a lot, isn’t it?”

“Well, the Companions are an obvious no. And the Imperial Legion.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Onmund, I am frightened by how little you know about Dunmer,” I said.

“Sorry. What about the College? They clearly have some respect for it, if they sent Brelyna there.”

“That’s the hard one,” Brelyna explained.

“Yeah. Obviously they’ll have to know I attend, since that’s how we know each other. Problem is if I should bring up being Archmage,” I added.

“There’s a strong possibility he still sees me as a ten year old who can’t make her own decisions. And I would very much like to avoid the idea that Afonya pressured me into any of this.”

I looked up from the soup. “I think we should be fine if I specify that we started dating before I became Archmage.”

“Agreed. Write it down, Onmund?”

“Got it. I can take over stirring,” he said.

“Thanks.” I handed him the spoon. “Is it bad that I’m nervous about leaving you alone with the kids?”

He laughed. “They’ll have myself and Gregor, Afonya. We’ll make sure they don’t set anything on fire.”

Brelyna stared at me with a look I knew too well. Please take over this conversation for me.

I cleared my throat. “My name is Afonya Orel. I’m the champion of Azura, and I’d like to marry your daughter.”

“Where will you go when you die?”

That was a hard one. 

Brelyna’s face flushed. “He means your physical remains, Afonya.”

Oops. I tried to hide my panic, but Aular held out a hand. “Not anymore. Explain Apocrypha.”

I shifted uncomfortably.

“Are there any plans for them currently?”

“I’ve promised at least a finger to the College,” I explained.

“Thank you.” I said to his turned head.

“You’re welcome.” He went back to his notes, seemingly uninterested in an explanation. I gave him one anyway.

“I married my wife.”

“I don’t care.”

“I know.” I smiled. “She’s a Maryon.”

That caught his attention. “I didn’t know the Maryons were still around.”

I nodded, but it was really hard for me to hide my laugh there. He’d met Brelyna, multiple times in fact, including ones where I’d introduced her as ‘Brelyna Maryon of House Telvanni.’ It was harder for Talvas to mask his emotions, evidently; he sniffled from behind his hand. “They are, serjo. And now up one member.

[sunlaire]

Tagged by @clandestinegardenias <33

do you make your bed? : noooooope

what's your favorite number? : 1034 (it's been my favorite number for forever idk why)

what is your job? : retailllll, it suckkkks (Target)

if you could go back to school would you? : idk maybe. I'm not super interested. I love learning, hate everything else about it. If I ever figure out my dream job, and it required a degree then yes

can you parallel park? : no. I will not even try. Catch me circling the block three times trying find a parking spot downtown

a job you had that would surprise people? : for a couple summers when I was young I worked at a mechanic shop in Texas. There was only one guy who worked/owned the place and he was the nicest. He taught me some stuff about removing parts, but mostly i did little tasks. Sorting things, parking cars, spray painting metal parts with that antirust stuff; it was fun. It makes my heart ache with nostalgia when I think about it. We were 10 miles outside of town and the property was huge. The grass grew tall and there were acres of cars in long rows that stretched over the hill. Cedar trees and crickets. ;o;

do you think aliens are real? : ...yes. this is a real "I want to believe" type situation. It would make more sense for them not to exist but...

can you drive a manual car? : nah

what's your guilty pleasure? : hmmm, I dunno. Everything? I can't do anything without feeling a little guilty.

tattoos? : no but I really want a bee and peony

favorite color? : sunlight on treetops.

favorite type of music? : Whatever type The Mountain Goats is. And whatever AJJ is. And Johnny Cash. Those are my all time favorite musics.

do you like puzzles? : >:3 yes but only sudoku. I have an app and my best time is 3:30 on extreme...that sounded a lot cooler in my head before I typed it lol

any phobias? : I'm sure I do, but I can't think of any right now

favorite childhood sport? : I had a big family, lots of kids, but we never really played sports. We did play a lot of video games though. So for my answer to favorite sport, I will say Pokémon Stadium.

do you talk to yourself? : oooooh yeah yes

what movie(s) do you adore? : Alien (1979), The Mummy, and Lost Boys

coffee or tea? : both but with Tea leaning.

first thing you wanted to be growing up? : I literally never thought about it as a kid. I guess I wanted to be an adult. So mission accomplished 🫡

Tagging @leadandblood @apocalypticdemon @haredjarris @hetchdrive aaaaand @madnessandsmiles (I know a lot of yall are doing finals and dealing with school rn, so it's okay if you skip this one <333)

[hecckyeah]

I'm visiting Minnesota for the first time outside of the airport this year and I recall you posting a bit about that state. Any recs of cool things to do/ good places to eat in the Twin Cities?

OMG yess exciting!! I grew up right in that area :))

I'll add what I can think of off the top of my head, but maybe some of my other MN moots can chime in? @3friesshortofahappymeal

I'll start with the big ones, then scale it down a bit :)

The Mall of America, for sure. I know it's a typical tourist attraction but it really is quite spectacular and worth a short trip. Sometimes there are cool concerts and events going on in the Rotunda (they have a list here), and if you've ever been shopping and thought, hmm I could go for a rollercoaster right about now, then the MoA's got you covered :) Also, I haven't been but my brother says the Fly Over America exhibit is AMAZING

Minnesota Zoo!! I haven't been there since my childhood, but they used to have this treetop rail which I think they replaced with a walkway. Either way, it's fantastic, very informative, super adorable!

The Science Museum of Minnesota in St. Paul!! Seriously one of my FAVORITE places ever. There's an omni-theater, which is worth the trip in itself. The exhibits are top tier, tons of interactive stuff for adults, and it takes FOREVER to get through it, so you know it's worth the admission price :)

Stillwater is about a 30 minute drive from the Cities, but it's incredible if you want to do some light hiking and visit some cute shops!

I've never actually been to the Minneapolis Institute of Art, but it's a top destination if you have the time/interest for it!

Depends on what time of year you're visiting, but you have your pick of lakes to swim in (or paddleboard, rent a boat, lay on the sand and get burned by the sun, etc) Some favorites are Long Lake, Wayzata Beach, Silver Lake, and White Bear Lake Park!

There are some super nice walking paths around the Stone Arch Bridge

The Mill City Museum is worth a visit if you're a huge nerd like me :) It's a great little peek into Minnesota history and culture!

The Guthrie Theater for SURE, especially the yellow tinted room a couple floors up. Iconic MN spot!

Asia Mall in Eden Prairie! You can get some top tier boba there

If you have time to drive a little further north, I personally love the Albertville outdoor shopping mall. They're all outlet stores, and it's enormous and a really nice area.

Again, I've never been but The Armory always has some kind of events/small scale concerts going on. I think my brother saw The Band CAMINO there a couple years ago :)

Sadly I'm way less educated on restaurants in the area :( I know the Maple Grove area has tons of elite spots, and you really can't go wrong around the downtown area around the US Bank Stadium.

That said, just a couple places I do know of--

Fogo de Chao in Minneapolis

Henhouse Eatery in Minneapolis

Teppanyaki Grill in Fridley

Hoagie's Family Restaurant in Hopkins

Also, just a side note, if you have a day or two to spare, I'd HIGHLY recommend a trip up toward Duluth and the North Shore. In my opinion that's the most gorgeous place in all of MN.

Again, MN moots feel free to chime in!! I haven't lived in the Twin Cities area the last couple years and now I'm moving back soon, so I'm a little out of touch hahaha, especially after covid :)

I hope this helps!! Have an AWESOME time, and definitely let me know how the trip goes!!! <3 I love MN, it has so much to offer <33

[brooklynislandgirl]

Which of her many relations would Beth most like Ron to meet?

Asks Open Forever {{tagging @morgansmornings and @big-d-little-i-big-n-little-ozzo for reasons:tm:}} A twenty minute drive, give or take, is eschewed in favour of a leisurely late afternoon-early evening walk for those three and some miles back to Cedra Court from Vallance Road. The late spring weather is mild, free of rain, and there's a gentle breeze in the canopy of newly leafed treetops lining the sidewalks they amble along. For all that Claude could strain his broad shoulders and barrel chest, half dragging Ron in his wake, the giant black Cane Corso prefers the more sedate pace. Focused, alert, and a little less interested in the smells that seem to draw Topper's nose. Beth's hands are equally occupied with much more sedate friends; Mo is graceful and Noe ~their smallest, and the one gifted to her by Ron himself~ is simply content to be included. A good five or ten minutes flows by with companionable silence; little noises or tugs on leashes to communicate with a portion of the pack surrounding them, the sound of the occasional traffic be it automobile or pedestrian, greetings murmured in passing which Beth had come to realise a year or two ago was a distinctly American trait. Too friendly, Reg called it. With the implication of nosy, of being a bee in everyone's garden. Normally Beth might be a brook of chatter, words spilling out over the banks of her lips, filtered over teeth and tongue to be as crystalline as their mixed slang can be to them. She'd have questions about the things she's learned, the customs observed, and she might, in a rare moment of particular joy or vulnerability, dislodge a similar experience or tid-bit about her own family. A glimpse of a life she hardly bothers to talk about. Best put though, it seems some of the Ink that Ron vigilantly guards against has splashed up on tawny skin. Muddied her thoughts and put clouds in her internal sky, and her silence comes away with a hint of trouble she has no defense against. The only good part about all that is that Ron seems to understand the source of her mood. He doesn't need to ask what in particular his mother had said. What particular piece of wit from his brother is taken like something she'd need scrape off her shoe. Why Frances eats into her like a worm does a ripening apple. His armour is often thicker than her own in different ways. So instead, after a time, he makes that rumbling little beckon in the back of his throat,herald to something he'd like to say, and when he's certain she's paused and her eyes linger on his mouth, he asks her gently about her own clan and kin. Beth has never felt quite so bankrupt in the history of her existence. Takes at least two more drag-heel blocks to even pry loose her voice. "I s'spose firs' an' foremos' I'd like ya t' get t' know my hanai-sistah. Like some of ya aunties, we're not blood-blood, but could be. I was her roommate durin' University, start a year before she did. Been bes' good friends evah since. She date Andy briefly, but it became kinda obvious dat dey were too same-same for it to work out, an' he became jus' as ovahprotective of her as he was wi' me. She's supah smart, she funny, an' she bakes like no one's business. She's also my lawyer even dough she gave up practising for da most part. Keeps her license wi' da Bar current jus' for me. I love her." Talk of Jay does brighten her up and puts a soft smile on her face. "Den dere's my cousin Tony. Funny enough, if we nevah were anyt'ing more dan friends, he'd be da one I try f' introduce you. He smells nice, dresses well, is smart an' is funny, great hair, amazin' cook, writes his own songs, play piano, I mean I could go on f' days but really he has da worst luck wi' guys. Mebbe because he's sorta like a Military Cop...but not like in da Military, but a separate department of investigation. He also has an attachment t' his boss even if da man is horrifically toxic to Tony. An' tru'd be told? I t'ink its because he had an off relationship wi' his dad, too. Guess dat runs in da family."

She catches the corner of her lip between her teeth and worries it as she often does. "An' lastly, my Auntie Aishling an' her wife Siobhan. She's fiery, Irish as can be, an' I suppose you could call her da current matriarch of da clan, much t' da Admiral's knicker-twist. She is also a peer, so I dunno if you wanna boddah wi' all da fancy formality of one of her social get togeddahs. Of course, I could arrange for us t' have a private dinner wi' her. We could fly an' get picked up Belfast Airport, or we could drive an' take da ferry..." She glances up to try to gauge his feelings about that.

[naturessprout01]

A Family Adventure: Exploring Nainital's Beauty Together

Hey guys So, you're planning a family trip to Nainital? That's awesome!

 Get ready for an unforgettable adventure filled with laughter, bonding, and loads of fun. Trust me, this charming hill station in Uttarakhand, India, has something for everyone – from scenic lakes and lush forests to exciting activities and delicious food. So, let's dive right in and discover why Nainital is the perfect destination for your next family getaway.

First things first, let's talk about getting there. Whether you're driving up the winding mountain roads or hopping on a scenic train ride, the journey to Nainital is an adventure in itself. As you wind your way through the picturesque countryside, keep an eye out for breathtaking views and quaint villages along the way. 

And when you finally arrive in Nainital and catch sight of the iconic Naini Lake shimmering in the sunlight, you'll know that the real fun is about to begin.

Now, let's talk about the heart and soul of Nainital – its stunning lakes. Naini Lake, with its emerald waters and verdant surroundings, is the perfect spot for some family fun. Rent a pedal boat and set off on a leisurely cruise around the lake, taking in the breathtaking views of the surrounding hills and the bustling town. And don't forget to capture some selfies and family photos along the way – these memories are ones you'll want to cherish forever.

But wait, there's more! How about a visit to the famous Naina Devi Temple? Perched on the northern shore of Naini Lake, this ancient temple dedicated to Goddess Naina Devi is steeped in history and legend. As you climb the stone steps leading to the temple, take in the panoramic views of the lake and the town below, and soak in the serene atmosphere. And who knows, you might even receive a blessing or two for your family's happiness and prosperity.

Now, let's talk about adventure – because what's a family trip without a little excitement, right? Nainital offers a wide range of thrilling activities that are sure to get your adrenaline pumping. From zip-lining through the treetops to horseback riding along scenic trails, there's no shortage of fun-filled adventures to be had. And for the little ones, a visit to the local zoo or a pony ride around town is sure to bring smiles to their faces.

Of course, no family trip is complete without indulging in some delicious food. Luckily, Nainital has plenty of options to satisfy even the pickiest of eaters. From street food stalls serving up piping hot momos and chaat to cozy cafes dishing out hearty meals and decadent desserts, there's something for everyone's taste buds. So go ahead, treat yourselves to a culinary adventure and savor the flavors of Nainital together as a family.

As the sun sets over Nainital, the town comes alive with a magical glow. Take a leisurely stroll along Mall Road, hand in hand with your loved ones, as you browse through the colorful shops and soak in the lively atmosphere. And when night falls, gather around a bonfire under the starry sky, sharing stories and laughter as you roast marshmallows and make memories that will last a lifetime.

 Some reference are given below

●  The Naini Retreat Nainital

●  Nainital Willows

● Nature’s Sprout Nainital Hives

●  Hotel Cloud 7

●  Classic The Mall

●  Lakeside Inn

●  Swiss Cottage

In the end, a family trip to Nainital is not just about exploring a new destination – it's about creating unforgettable moments and strengthening the bonds that hold you together. So pack your bags, leave your worries behind, and embark on a journey of adventure, laughter, and love in the beautiful hills of Nainital. Trust me, you won't regret it!

[casspurrjoybell-19]

FERAL - Chapter 3 - Part 1

*Warning: Adult Content*     

- Echo -

The symphony of the world is extra loud today. 

Or, maybe, my family's brief visit to Uncle Oasis and Berlin's urban pack had made me extra sensitive to the quaint, rural grounds where my Dad and Papa's pack was established. 

But either way, as I inhaled a breath of the fresh, open air that smelled distinctly of home, the world around me expanded into a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of sound.

Birds' beaks knocked together in the treetops as they fed their hungry young, caterpillars tap, tap, tapped their countless little feet in a steady rhythm, traversing across bouncing leaves as they prepared for metamorphosis and wind whistled through the slender space that lay between every verdant, sharp blade of grass...

The thought of the countless, tiny worlds harmoniously coexisting all around me summoned a radiant smile upon my lips as I bumbled my way along the path laid before me, drenched in nearly an entire bottle of sunscreen which was, of course, generously applied by the constantly worrisome hands of my Papa. 

Meanwhile, my empty, knitted harvesting tote bounced against my wide hip, swaying this way and that with each step.In its empty state, my tote's barely-there weight whispered promises of endless possibilities, as if it, too, were anticipating the bounty that was sure to await me.

Having endured the past couple of days at my uncles' pack, where tedious paperwork monopolized Dad and Papa's attention and my siblings and I hung with my insane cousins Hale and Cassius, I couldn't help but anticipate the vibrant transformation my garden must have undergone during my absence. 

Hopefully, my plant babies missed me just as much as I missed them.

The wind whistled loudly then, whipping around my body in ribbons as I giggled, reaching up when my gardening bandana flew backward over my eyes with the force of it. 

With the wind came a slew of renewed scents, all of them so powerful and dizzying that I could barely tease out where one ended and the next began.

My left forearm tingled beneath my billowing shirt as I finally ascended the final hill on my journey, revealing the sprawling, lush world that was my personal heaven, also known as my garden. 

Its magnificence, as always, took my breath away and I instinctually paused to absorb the view from the hilltop.

What had once been only a modest plot of earth adorned with a few, choice seeds, my garden had grown right alongside me over the years, expanding and transforming to accommodate bigger and better things. 

Now, it stretched for what felt like forever, weaving in and out of the trees in an organic shape that blended in with the flow of the land, a natural stream of fertile soil flowing endlessly.

Honestly, if it weren't for the archway that Papa built me which marked the gateway to my garden. 

Time and encroaching vines had partially concealed my name, which was etched deep into the wood at the arch's peak but still, it remained a testament to my presence, letting any stray visitors know that if they touched my precious babies, they would face my family's wrath... also known as Dad's chancel.

And now, for my favorite part.

My short legs flew beneath me at once, arms flying open as I hurtled down the steep hill, the world flying around me in a swirl of light and colors. 

Somewhere along the way, although I couldn't pinpoint the exact moment, my legs surrendered to the relentless pace of the rest of my body and a squeal of exhilaration thrummed through me as I tumbled through the tall grasses, rolling my way down the rest of the hill in a cascade of chaos and joy.

Every ounce of breath left me as I completed my final revolution, collapsing in a disheveled heap at the bottom of the hill, hair tangled with dirt, my billowing shirt stained with smudges of grass. 

Yet, as I gazed up at the cloudy heavens, a fit of laughter bubbling from within me as I lay surrounded by the symphony of buzzing insects and the pulsating vitality of the world, I'd never felt more alive.

This place was my sanctuary, a sacred oasis where no harm could ever find me. 

And for just a moment, no matter how fleeting, the world was kind.

I have no clue how long I just laid there, sprawled out on the grass, soaking up whatever scarce sunbeams managed to sneak through the looming cumulous clouds. 

But eventually, Dad's voice echoed in the recesses of my mind, nagging me about my delicate skin and its inability to handle too much sunlight.

And, as if to punctuate the memory, a chilly gust of wind nipped at me, reminding me that as winter crept closer, my precious moments with my last fall harvest were moving farther from my grasp. 

So, with a sudden burst of motivation, I scrambled to my feet, disregarding the dried leaves and clinging grass still attached to my clothes and limbs as I made my way toward the arch.

"Hey there, marigolds," I chirped, crouching down at the entrance of my garden to begin the process of paying my respects. 

The pretty, yellow flowers lined the entire outskirts of my garden, forming a protective barrier that warded off mosquitoes and the like, especially those little pests that liked to nibble at my sweet tomatoes. 

They might have been small but my marigolds were true warriors, constantly fighting to keep their brothers and sisters safe.

"I appreciate all of your hard work," I whispered, reaching over to my tote to grab the small pouch that hung off of the side. 

Dipping a hand inside to grab a tiny pinch of its contents between my thumb and forefinger, I carefully sprinkled the glimmering fairy dust atop the nearest flowers, just like my Uncle Daffodil had shown me so ages ago. 

Instantly, the blooms responded to the touch of magick, stretching their stems skyward in a similar manner that water reached for the shore.

Fairy dust was a hot commodity, hard to come by even when I had an uncle who was a bona-fide fairy living behind The Veil with his mate, Uncle Tyrus. 

So, in order to make my meager supply last, I had to select the plants that I chose to enchant wisely.

With a final, grateful smile directed at the marigolds, I rose from the ground and dusted off my knees. 

Then, navigating through the intertwining maze of fruits, vegetables and flowers, I trod lightly on my tiptoes, resembling a cautious ballerina, wary of crushing any delicate life beneath my feet.

Thankfully, my flax plants were within a reasonable distance, merely fifteen feet away from the garden's entrance and in no time, I found myself crouched before them, wielding my trusty gardening shears to gather a few clippings.

"Hey there, lovelies," I greeted while I meticulously harvested, careful not to take too much. 

"Oh, this one is definitely long enough for a large fruit bowl." 

This versatile plant was perfect for one of my other side hobbies, weaving. 

From the moment I first harvested it’s sturdy stalks and read of their potential in one of my many gardening books, the art of weaving had become one of my favorite pastimes. 

The way that I intertwined the fibers was reminiscent of Papa's similar hobby of knitting and throughout my childhood, the art of craft was a shared love that had bonded us.

Countless evenings had been spent in Papa's quiet company as we worked, nestled under a blanket by the crackling fireplace, our sole companions being the soothing hum of his record player and the portrait of my parents, forever frozen in time on their wedding day. 

That picture, nestled in an ornate frame that had hung above the fireplace since a time before my birth, held a special place in my heart, seeing as to how it captured an exceedingly rare sight, Papa's one and only genuine smile.

[anitosoul]

tripreport.010: LLLLL (Long, Long, Long, Lush Life)

lacquering, lecturing, labouring, lumbering, loving 🌅

Key Inspirations:

The Beatles – “Long, Long Long” (Song)

Billy Strayhorn – “Lush Life” (Song)

Labi Siffre – “My Song” [and Clairo’s cover of it] (Song)

Daydreaming (Activity)

Flea markets (Activity)

Gratitude meditation (Activity)

Watching the sunrise and sunset (Activity)

Acoustic guitar, grand piano (Instruments)

Spike Jonze – Her (Film)

Journaling (Activity)

Dawn and dusk (Time)

LLLLL Tracklist A-Side: Long

Joni Mitchell – Here Today and Gone Tomorrow

Snail Mail – Heat Wave

Frank Ocean – Skyline To

The Beatles – Long, Long, Long

Mid-Air Thief – These Chains

El Michels Affair, Bobby Oroza – Reasons

glass beach – (forever?????????)

Charlotte Bumgarner – Honey Touch

Ichiko Aoba – テリフリアメ (Terifuriame)

Little Joy – Evaporar

Childish Gambino – I. Flight of the Navigator

Radiohead – Nude

King Krule – Energy Fleets

LLLLL Tracklist B-Side: Lush

Fiona Apple – I Want You to Love Me

Linda Ronstadt – Lush Life

Robert Glasper, Meshell Ndegeocello – The Consequences of Jealousy

Solange – Time (is)

Billie Holiday – I’ll Be Seeing You

Arcade Fire, Owen Pallett – Song on the Beach (from Her)

St. Vincent – The Party

Arthur Verocai – Na Boca Do Sol

Kanye West – Street Lights

Radiohead – Daydreaming

Labi Siffre – My Song

LLLLL stands for Long, Long, Long / Lush Life, two songs that served as main inspirations for this mix. I was spending most of my time working on the cabin, staying with extended family in a large log house nestled at the top of a mountain. This was around the one year mark of when the COVID lockdowns began, so I felt particularly reflective; it was hard to believe everything that transpired between March of 2020 and March of 2021, but hope was on the horizon. Promising news about the vaccines was being released daily, and it was only a matter of time until we would be able to return to some semblance of normal life. It was getting sunnier after the brutally cold February and I was falling into a new relationship. All indications pointed towards the beginning of spring, a rebirth after the collective slumber we were in since March of 2020. The hope, however, was restrained by the latent uncertainty of the future. I was in a unique headspace: a combination of processing the unexpected turns of the past year, practicing gratitude for my present situation, and stifling my yearning that life may return to “normal.” 

In March of 2021, I was content: I was working remotely, building the cabin, spending time with family, spending time in nature, starting to see friends in person for the first time, and blossoming a new love. I was conflicted, though, about the future: a guilt pervaded my thoughts of “normal” life beginning again, which meant returning to a metropolis, starting a real job, and dealing with the stressors of societal pressures and daily responsibilities. It meant leaving behind everything I had invested in so deeply over the past months. At the same time, it also meant returning to my favorite city in the world, reuniting with friends, making a difference in my career, and personal growth, but there was so much processing of the past year that remained. The forces of the past and future sandwiched me in the present.

In the log house, I stayed in a room with a window perfectly positioned for the sunrise. Soft rays of grey light would wake me up each morning, and I would look out the window at the surrounding mountain treetops. I was in Moyers, Oklahoma, the middle of nowhere, amongst the trees, building a cabin. I was working remotely at my job while working physically on the cabin until sunset each day, when I would sit and watch as the world around me was engulfed in an orange glow. Sunrise and sunset have always evoked a wistfulness in me, and this mix was my attempt at capturing that in-between feeling. 

The sides of the mix are loosely based around dawn and dusk, sunrise and sunset, mornings and evenings. The A-side is generally songs driven by (acoustic) guitar and the B-side driven by piano. It was important that each track had lyrical or sonic qualities that reflected the feelings I described earlier, and I found that most of the tracks on here were in 3/4 time and various languages. The last song on the mix, Labi Siffre’s “My Song,” is one of my most listened-to songs of the year and its yearning hope captured everything I felt: “This is my song / And no one can make it a lie / It’s been so long since someone / Could make me cry / And I wonder if you know what it means / To laugh as tears go by.”

[amoonglove]

Rumors in Gridania

“I didn’t quite see her… but I felt her, like a dark evil looming in the treetops. I felt like I was being watched…”

* * *

“She walks slowly, like a bride in a Bonding ceremony, but somehow is everywhere all at once. One moment she was behind us, coming up on our caravan slowly, and the next she was malms ahead, vanishing into the trees.”

* * *

“Aye, a ghost tha’ is. I’ve seen tha like in mah day. Silent as tha trees, with a stare that’d make an ‘ole dog shiver. Them woods is haunted by Her, no doubt.”

* * *

“Her eyes were covered and I only saw her for a moment, she was shrouded in butterflies; I had never seen so many. When she appeared, all other sounds in the forest stopped, time stood still. She glanced at me, then went on her way. She was… terrifying, but beautiful.”

* * *

“We were almost out of food on our way Northward to the Holy See, our group was suddenly surrounded by… butterflies, and when they dissipated, our grain and fruit stores were replenished, water as well. Everyone was unharmed. Halone must have been looking out for us.” 

* * *

“I had meant to take some firewood home for my family, the cold settin’ in and all. But when I raised my axe to the tree I was surrounded by a strange shadow and my body became heavy. I turned to see who it was, but there was no one, only a pile of kindling that hadn’t been there before.”

* * *

“She sings, you know? Sometimes in the morning I can hear it clear across the Arbor, the birds sing with her.”

* * *

“She’s an angry spirit, she is. Cursed to roam the forest forever, I’d wager. Beware the Shroud’s Bride.”

* * *

“The Shroud’s Bride? It’s a ghost story to scare Gridanian kids into bed early. She can’t be real, can she?”

[zarathehunter]

Entry 6

(( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9zIeQizeL4&ab_channel=SamuelKimMusic For maximum impact, I recommend this.))

"Dear Me,"

*A single wet spot stains the top of the page of the notebook.*

"Today, I learned that Nameless is...a very good friend. A loyal companion, that puts his partner first over his own pain; that pushes his limits to keep his family safe. Who sacrifices himself in the face of danger, for no other reason than being asked to."

"Today I learned that Nameless is...old. Too old. If it is as Eneoke says, and he has maybe one or two good fights left in him- I will ensure he selects those moments on his own, and is otherwise comfortable. I'll be placing an order tomorrow for reinforcement wall material for his hutch, and spread thicker, more comfortable nesting material."

"But today, I primarily learned that...no good thing lasts forever. And that...that hurts."

The bottom of this page is stained with several more wet spots. It seems here, the half-elf stops writing and instead reminisces in his memories.

Fifteen years ago, a young elf is running through the trees of southern Quel'thalas, racing for the coast. He looks about twelve summers old; barefooted and clothed only in torn shorts and a dusty tunic, leaves in his hair and dirt on his face. At this point, the elven boy begins to look a bit...odd. His frame is wider than normal elves, his ears have stopped growing, and his hair is muddy brown. Is he a pure quel'dorei?

He spins, bouncing backwards and hopping to a stop. He cups his hands around his mouth, yelling out in a high, youthful voice. "Raaaaptooooooor! Come on!" He bounces on his heels. The treetops thrash as a raptor, equally as young as the boy, leaps from the branches and crashes to the ground next to him.

Easily less than two summers old, the raptor is half-grown and has a lustrous golden mane of shining feathers, and a rowan hide, tiger-striped with rich streaks of blood red. The raptor lets out a series of sharp, laughing barks as the elf takes off, chasing him.

It is clear the raptor could outstrip him if he pleased, but he instead runs alongside the youth. They make their way, panting and laughing, to the coastline, leaving a pair of humanoid and three-toed tracks side by side in the sand. Splashing into the warm waters as the sun bleeds its setting light across the sea, they frolic and wrestle in the shallows, tumbling and getting soaked.

Laughter mixes with barks and hisses. After a time, they march back to the grassy knoll overlooking the sea, shaded by trees and collapse, panting and damp. The elf boy throws his arms around the raptor's neck, burying his face in the creature's scales. "You're the most bestest, only-est friend I have! I'll never let you go, you hear me?"

The raptor rolls onto his back, wheezing and hissing as if pretending to be choked. The boy releases him, laughing, and the nameless beast laughs along with him in sharp, giggling chirrups. They settle at last, sitting down. The boy ruffles salt and debris out of his hair, staring out at the water. The raptor tucks itself close to him, resting his head in the elf's lap.

"Someday we'll go out there together, you and me! We don't need anyone else. As soon as we move, we'll be free! No more hiding from the village, no more cages when the guards come by, and no more stuffy basements for us to wait in when elves visit."

"We'll be great, you know? You and me," the boy whispered, resting his forehead on the raptor's head. "We'll show them."

Suddenly, the boy's ears prick as footsteps approach from behind. "Zara," the deep voice says. "It's late. You shouldn't roam so far." The boy looks back at his father; a man of maybe five feet, six inches, with flowing, golden blonde hair and piercing, stern blue eyes. "Let's go home."

Zara stands, dusting himself off uselessly. "Alriiight...I guess..." he mutters. The nameless raptor jumps up at his side. "You weren't seen, were you?" his father queries. "No, papa. I wasn't seen."

The blonde, older man nods approvingly. "Good. Now, let's get you cleaned up, you little mess," he says, warmth speckling through his cold tone as he ruffles Zara's hair.

"Race you home, papa!" he says, bolting suddenly and sprinting into the trees towards their sequestered cottage. The raptor lets out a trill of glee and pounds after him; as he draws alongside the boy, he lowers his neck.

Zara leaps into the air, grabbing onto Nameless' back and scrabbling to hold on as his noble steed thunders through the trees at full tilt, heading for home. As they sprint away together, his father's shouting voice fades into the background.

"We can do anything, as long as we're together!" Zara shouts, throwing his hands up in the air and gripping the raptor's belly with his legs. He lets out a cheer, mingled with Nameless' own victorious cry, echoing triumphantly through the darkening woods.

"Anything, forever and ever and always and together!"

In the present day, the half-elf man lay passed out on his bed, his notebook fallen to the floor, a large, ancient raptor curled up next to him, head resting on the man's chest as their snores intermingle.

Nameless' grow slower.

[teekapoaold]

A new start

How boring right. 

Anyway i have been on this blog for soo long that it’s just to cluttered. I tried the delete post before, but that just made me sad. I have debated for long what to do, and decided to move away from this blog, It’s not ’me‘ anymore, and i just don’t feel connected to it. But oh boy i have so much on here, The treetops, Valte, so many unfinished things and i just can’t deal with it. 

I just need to not think to much about it anymore. Have fun, it’s a game after all. And since my computer needed a update, i cleaned it and thought it should be now or never. 

Soo umm i dunno what else to say, all downloads would still be up, and i most likely will not be making downloadable content anymore.

[gotham-ruaidh]

not the same

(set during 06x04 "Hour of the Wolf")

It was a long, mostly quiet journey back to Fraser’s Ridge.

Ian was grateful for the space between himself and his uncle. Often he rode ahead on his horse, though never too far away to be out of earshot of the wagon. Rollo faithfully ran alongside him, only occasionally hopping into the back of the wagon for a wee rest.

The forest was quiet, and the long shadows of the setting sun were unspeakably beautiful.

Ian saw none of it. Thinking and thinking and struggling to find the right words.

How to even start thinking about what had transpired in the Cherokee village?

Just one night in the woods on the way to the Big House. Building camp took place largely in silence, the two men preoccupied as they hobbled the horses, secured the wagon, unpacked jerked meat and corn cakes from their saddlebags.

Now it was very late. The forest was dark, save for the faint glow of stars above and the warmer glow and crackle of the fire at their feet.

“Ian?”

His uncle’s voice was quiet – but Ian could hear every word.

“You asked me if you should have fought harder for her. For Emily.”

Ian peeled the bark from a long twig. “Aye.”

“Do you think she would have done the same for you, had the circumstances been reversed?”

“You mean – had I been the one who wanted to walk away?”

Jamie’s fingers twitched on his knee. “Aye. Had you chosen a new wife. Would she have fought against you for making that choice? Or would she have fought against the other woman?”

All Ian saw was the beautiful curve of Emily’s neck, and the woven bracelets wrapped around her wrists and ankles – not the sparks of the fire, flying toward the stars.

“I dinna need ye to answer, lad. I dinna need to know. But you need to know. Because if she wouldnae have fought for you as hard as you did for her, then ye have nothing to regret.”

Ian clenched his fists. “I thought I knew who she was. We…we understood each other. She made it clear that she wanted me from the first. Maybe…maybe had I been with the Mohawk longer, taken more time to learn their ways, I wouldnae – ”

“Ian – I’m no’ questioning you now. And I’m no’ judging your marriage. But did you really know all of her heart? And did she really know all of yours?”

Confused, Ian looked across the fire – to see Jamie’s eyes wide and dark.

“I know you grieve the loss of her, and the loss of your bairns. I’ve lost a bairn and a marriage, too – more than once. On the same day I lost your auntie and your cousin Brianna, who was in her belly. And I wanted nothing more than to die.”

“Because you sent them away, for safety.”

Jamie smiled sadly. “Two hundred years in the future. Aye. I never regretted it, Ian. But I do regret the circumstances that forced us apart.”

Rollo nudged his warm, wet nose against Ian’s shin.

“You need to ask yourself, Ian – is there anything you wouldn’t have done, to keep your wife at your side? And, is there anything your wife wouldn’t have done, to keep you at hers?”

Ian dug the stick into the ground. “You said yourself – I fought as hard as I could without taking her by force.”

Jamie looked deeper into the fire. “Would you have lain wi’ another woman, if it meant keeping her safe? Would you have killed a dozen men?”

Ian’s brows furrowed. “I dinna understand.”

“Or would she have lain wi’ another man, if it meant keeping you forever? Would she have killed to bring you back? Risked her own life? Turned away from her own family?”

“What? No. I don’t know. She didn’t have to do that.”

“It doesnae matter that she didn’t have to. What matters is, would she have?”

The fire crackled. Bats skittered in the treetops overhead.

Ian chose his words very carefully. “You and Auntie Claire have done all of that for each other.”

Jamie sighed. “Yes.”

“Because…because you feel the same way about each other. You fight very hard for each other.”

“It wasn’t always the case. There was a time not too long after we were married when she tried to leave me. And then when I understood what she had done and why she had done it, I gave her the choice to leave.”

“But she didnae go?”

“Claire did not love me when we were married.” Dimly Ian remembered hearing as much from his auntie, years ago. “I worked very, very hard to win her heart. There was no guarantee that she would…that she would feel the same way. But when I gave her the choice to leave, she chose to stay.”

“I mind the traditional Scottish wedding vow, Uncle. The one where bride and groom proclaim that they are each other’s blood and body and bone. It’s what my parents pledged. We said similar words to each other in Mohawk.”

“It’s what Claire and I pledged, too, though she didnae understand the words at the time. Which shows how easy it is to say words. It was only after…after we endured great hardship for the sake of each other, that we made a conscious decision to keep fighting. It would have been much easier to walk away. And we would have felt no shame in doing so.”

“So what you’re saying is – maybe it was the right thing for me and Emily.”

“I will not judge you, Ian. You’re a grown man, and I’m proud to see you grown. It’s a sad thing that passed between the two of you. But you cannot keep questioning yourself about it. No’ when there’s so much in your life to look forward to.”

Ian nodded. “I love her – I loved her – but I wasnae the right person for her.”

“That’s the gist of it.”

Jamie stood, and Ian followed. Carefully Jamie stepped around the fire to clap his nephew’s arm.

“I am honored that you told me the truth of it. And I promise you, lad, that you’ll find love again. In time.”

Ian nodded. “I know. When I’m ready.”

Jamie snorted. “Whether you’re ready or not, lad. She will come into your life when you least expect it. I’d know.”

[legolasbadass]

A Lifetime Apart [1/3]

Artwork by the lovely @gwen-ever​

Relationship: Thorin x OC

Summary: Thorin meets his One while still a young prince in Erebor, but their lives are torn apart by their families and the arrival of Smaug. 

Based on Alice Tynan’s interview with Richard Armitage in ‘The Vine,’ this fic was inspired by @gwen-ever’s wonderful art for the @tolkienrsb 2021! 

Warnings: Angst. Seriously guys, this is really angsty, get your tissues ready. (gwen and I are not sorry lol)

Rating: T

As always, the fic can be read on AO3. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 

There is a room in Erebor, a secret place where once their love bloomed in peace. All the memories of that place, where he held her and worshipped her with his lips, were forever engraved in his mind. It was there that, after months of struggling with his feelings, he had realized she was his One.

All Dwarves know that Mahal sometimes creates two of his children from the same stone, bonding them for life. Of course, not all Dwarves marry. Even those granted this honour by their Maker do not always choose to marry, for some value friendship above all other bonds, while others devote themselves to their craft. Still, as a young boy, Thorin had hoped Mahal would deem him worthy, and every night he had dreamt of the moment he would meet his One, conjuring their likeness like an artist who paints a picture and gives it life.

He had also wondered what it would feel like to meet his One. Would he know immediately? And how would he know? Perhaps it would be like in those romance novels his sister liked so much. A tender, all-consuming look from across the room, silently reassuring the other that they had found each other at last.

Perhaps due to long hours in the council chamber, Thorin had become more of a realist as the years went on. He always had to be on his guard, and he learned quickly that he could not trust his desires, for they could be manipulated by advisors and enemies alike. Romanticism was fine for artists but not for princes. The idea of a destined love became no more than a child’s fanciful dream, and Thorin grew gradually less opposed to the concept of an arranged marriage until the thought of it did not bother him at all. After all, his parents had been married for a political alliance and had still grown to care for each other. Thorin knew he would do the same.

At least, that was what he had told himself before he met Rúna, his dear Rúna.

He did not know immediately that she was his One, but from the moment their gazes met, he knew he would never again be the same. Her presence had so bewitched him that he had not realized he was walking toward her until she stood right in front of him. Then, stumbling over his every word, he had thought himself defeated, oblivious to the fact that she felt the same indescribable pull toward him.

“Thorin, at your service,” had been his first words to her.

“Rúna, daughter of Ragni, your highness,” she had replied with a curtsy, enchanting him all the more with her melodious voice.

“I hope you are having a pleasant time, Lady Rúna.” Already, he had loved the way her name rolled off his tongue.

“More pleasant than you, at least, seeing as you have found nothing better to do than stare at me from across the room,” she had replied teasingly.

Blushing furiously, he had attempted to remain formal and composed but, ultimately, had failed miserably. “I had hoped that would go unnoticed, or at the very least, that you would humour me and pretend like nothing had transpired. And just because I was watching you does not mean I am not having a pleasant time. On the contrary, my spirits were lifted by the sight of your fairness.”

Thorin could still remember the beautiful blush that had painted her cheeks. “Forgive me,” he had said hastily. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I did not say I did not enjoy it,” she had replied with the most enchanting smirk.

That was how their conversations usually unfolded. Thorin, who always prided himself on being in control and always knowing what to say, would find himself barely able to think. He blamed her low-cut gowns and the redness of her lips for that.

They soon became inseparable. Every day, they would meet in their secret room, a haven where they shared stolen kisses and soft caresses. Âzyungel, she would call him, for she, too, had accepted Mahal’s will. She had accepted Thorin as hers, and in those moments, both of them had believed nothing would ever separate them, for they were destined to be together.

Deep in the caverns of his mind, a voice called out to Thorin, warning him against the intensity of his passion, but he did not listen. He found himself thinking of her at the most inappropriate times, and she haunted the nights he wished he could spend with her. When he closed his eyes, he saw her smile and heard her laughter, clearer than the soft splashing of water against limestone rocks.

What would it be like to spend his whole life with her, his Rúna?

Thorin thought with utter surety that he would soon know when they announced to their families their intent to wed. At first, everyone was overjoyed. Rúna came from a wealthy and respectable family, so the king had no objections to his grandson’s choice — not that any of that mattered to the couple. Ale and Dorwinion wine flowed freely as the news travelled through the mountain. The prince had chosen his princess.

Thorin and Rúna welcomed their families’ approval, but they secretly longed to be alone once more. When at last they found themselves in the comfort of Thorin’s chambers, they drank some more wine between languid kisses, committing the moment to memory. Fingers braided hair then caressed the skin they hastily revealed, their cheeks tainted with the soft glow of love.

That night, like their hearts forever bound, their bodies became one. Thorin was gentle, attentive to her every need, and even afterwards, he continued to bathe her in tenderness, scattering kisses all over her skin as they murmured promises of eternal love to each other, bodies entangled.

Rúna fell asleep to the soft lullaby of his heartbeat beneath her cheek, and though she never doubted for a second his sincerity and devotion, those promises were never fulfilled.

Rúna knew they should have been patient, and although she was usually very sensible, she had not known how to resist her handsome prince, especially not when his body had promised her glorious passion, now and for the rest of their lives. Besides, it was not as though premarital relations were unheard of. However, princes had to follow much stricter rules. And these rules had been carelessly ignored. And as the days went on, Rúna knew she would not have the luxury of keeping their transgression a secret, for inside her bloomed the product of her and Thorin’s love, but also the cause of their demise.

Even if it had not been for her growing belly, her morning sickness and alarmingly fluctuating moods would have given her away. And they did. She had never seen her parents so furious, and their disappointment pierced her heart. Her father shouted about her stained reputation and their ruined bloodline, leaving her in tears as she tried to scramble away in search of Thorin even as she knew it was hopeless.

She knew they would separate them.

King Thror, with the support of Thorin’s parents, banished Rúna from Erebor, never to see her beloved again. She tried to fight them, indignation festered inside her like a poisoned wound, the unattainable promise of Thorin’s love shattering her heart into a million pieces, but it was hopeless.

They did not inform Thorin of this, for it was their firm intention never to let him know about the bastard child. Instead, they told him she was bedridden while they conjured up a more permanent plan. And so, unaware that his One had been taken from him, Thorin brought flowers to Rúna’s door every day. He hated every moment he was forced to spend away from her — it felt unnatural — but he consoled himself by thinking that they would spend their whole lives together.

Then the dragon came.

Thorin had been out hunting in the woods with his siblings when a strong wind began to rattle the treetops. Then a roar like thunder split the sky, and the blood of Thorin’s veins froze when he heard a shout from afar.

“Dragon!”

Rúna.

Without so much as a glance at his companions, Thorin bolted toward the mountain, fear clogging his throat.

Refusing to believe this was real, he did not even stop when the gates loomed above him, riddled in flames, but the screams piercing his ears grounded him to the bitterness of reality. The air was wrought with the stench of burning flesh and the sorrow of a broken people. All around him, children cried in fright, and mothers wept while the distant ringing of useless steel announced their defeat.

No help came from the Elves that day, nor any day since; a betrayal Thorin never forgot. Even if there had been survivors still clawing for breath inside the mountain, they had no means to reach them.

Rúna.

Thorin searched for her everywhere, shouting her name until his lungs burned, but when the moon appeared, and she was still nowhere to be found, Thorin knew it was hopeless. Grief crashed over him like a hurricane.

He had lost her.

He wanted to tear the sky open and demand retribution from Mahal himself, but all his remaining strength he used to remain on his feet. He had to be strong for his people — what remained of them. His family had miraculously survived, but even that could not have filled the gaping hole where his heart had once beat.

Rúna, his dear Rúna. The memory of her lips against his turned to ash in his mouth. When he had last kissed her and held her, he had done so thinking he would have a lifetime to keep loving her. But she was now no more than a memory.

He forced himself not to think of that, for his people needed him now more than ever. Only once he was finally alone did he let his tears run free, and all through the night, he sobbed into his pillow, his only comfort the memories of their secret room, untouched by fire and blood. Thorin held onto those memories all through the years, never forgetting, never forgiving.

—

Khuzdul translations:

Âzyungêl: Love of Loves (used here to refer to the Dwarven belief in a single, destined soulmate)

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