#salt flats tribe

[baiduweb]

famine

#warrior cats #wc #warriors oc #thin branch of dying tree #lichen that grows in evil forest #salt flats tribe #gore

[petermorwood]

Hey, since cloning technology is good enough for them to create mammoth meatballs but not the entire mammoth yet, which prehistoric animal do you feel like taking a bite of?

Given where I was born, and where @dduane and I currently live, I think some Giant Irish Elk venison would be about right.

Enough for the entire clan with plenty of leftovers and a Handy Thing To Hang Stuff From.

*****

Which leads via Memory Lane to a funny by John M. Ford, who used to post such things - along with witticisms, wise observations and poetry - on Making Light.

He produced these in the same way a bonfire produces sparks: random, unexpected, brilliant and without apparent effort - though like the graceful swan on the river, I bet there was a lot of work going on out of sight. Or maybe not. Mike was that good.

For instance, he wrote THIS just to comment on another post...

I saved everything I could find offline because You Can Never Tell about online stuff, and also because there was, for a time, doubt - happily, It Got Better - that ANY of his writing would ever be seen again.

(Dammit, just like Terry Pratchett I HATE having to refer to Mike in past tense...)

And now, the funny (original archived Here). I've been assured that This Recipe Will Work, though the assurance also came with a strong suggestion about reducing the ingredient quantities More Than Somewhat.

*****

Hot Gingered Pygmy Mammoth & Jumbo Shrimp Salad

Feeds your whole tribe.

1 pygmy mammoth, boned and cubed (about 1 ton) 1 ton jumbo shrimp, peeled and deveined (many many ordinary shrimps, or one Ebirah claw) 10 buckets sesame seeds 60 pounds bean thread noodles if you are an Eastern tribe, whatever your tribe uses for noodles otherwise. If you have not yet invented the noodle, this might be a good time to do so. 1 bucket vegetable oil 1 bucket sesame oil Salt 10 buckets minced fresh ginger 6 buckets minced garlic 15 buckets dry Sherry 15 buckets rice wine vinegar 60 pounds sugar 60 buckets diced fresh mangoes 15 buckets chopped green onions Big Snorgul's helmet full of red pepper flakes 10 buckets chopped fresh cilantro, plus 5 Big Snorgul's helmets fresh cilantro, garnish 1000 large heads lettuce, cored and leaves separated (a raid on the People Who Grow Stuff may be necessary) 30 buckets thinly sliced, peeled, seeded, drained cucumbers, or just chop up the damn cucumbers and say "Fie to thee!" a lot All the chives you got

Preheat a giant turtle shell over a fumarole. A big giant turtle. Put some oil in there. Make sure no other giant turtles are around to see you do this.

On a flat rock, stirring with your Stick of the Dining God, dry cook the sesame seeds over medium heat until they are brown and smell good. Remove from the heat. Add the noodles to the turtle shell and fry fast until puffy and the color of sunrise. Remove from the oil and drain on non-itchy leaves. Throw salt. Set aside.

Sear the mammoth meat on the flat rock. Salt but don't overdo it, you remember what happened to the Chest-Clutching Tribe of the Plains. Drain.

Get a less giant turtle shell. Okay, think of this as a celebration dish for a good turtle hunt and shrimp catch. Make the vegetable oil and most of the sesame oil dance. Add the shrimp, mammoth, ginger, and garlic, and cook fast, stirring, until the shrimp are just pink and firm. Doom of Ten Thousand Wretched Canapés awaits those who overcook shrimp. Remove from the shell with pole weapons. Add the sherry and vinegar, and sing the Song of Deglazing over medium heat. Add the sugar and stir until it is one with the sauce. Cook until half the fluid is gone. Feed anybody who thinks this is waste to the giant turtles. Add the rest of the sesame oil, mangoes, green onions, and pepper flakes, and stir to warm through and wilt. No, this wilt is good. Tell the people it is the wilt of the Wilt God. You need all the mojo you can get. Remove from the heat and add the shrimp and ginger, and the cilantro. Stir to warm through and do the Highly Dramatic Ritual of Adjusting the Seasoning to Taste.

Now your tribal status is on the thin edge of the cleaver. Have everybody bring what they eat off of. You know your tribe. Put lettuce on whatever they hold out and spread the hot stuff on it. Those who have no eating platters should be used to the drill by now. Arrange cucumber slices on top in whatever symbolic pattern seems propitious to you and sprinkle with the toasted sesame seeds. If you have a really tough tribe, yell "Bam!" until they get a groove going. Add fried noodles, cilantro sprigs, and chives, and watch for any signs of people keeling over that can't be blamed on strong drink.

#prehistoric animals #edible archaeology #irish elk #pygmy mammoth #john m. ford #gnu terry pratchett #recipes

[tasavvur-e-jaana]

Blessings Beneath the Stars

//

After a long time, and because I am a liar who lied about not coming back, I wrote for RRR. it is not what you think. it is quiet and gentle, but not romantic. whatever it is, hopefully, it is not total trash.

MY boy (Lacchu) is back. And oh, not beta read. all mistakes are my own.

Companion piece to 'Will you be my Valentine'.

//

“I’ve been thinking. If I die tonight, would it really make a difference in the world? Who'd mourn me?” Lacchu mumbled after a drag of a joint held lazily between his forefinger and thumb. It seemed as if he was only thinking out loud. “More importantly,” he continued, “Why would anyone?”

His companion for the evening was a bit shocked at the confession. He really was not built for that sort of thing. Sympathy. Kindness. Saying the right words. “Bheem would. Jenny would. Malli. Loki.” I would. He stopped himself from adding that. Lacchu would definitely think of that as pity. Even if Ram’s sentiments would be honest. Ram was actually growing to be fond of Lacchu. The guy had will. And he was funny. With Bheem being busy with either the fight or when free, with Jenny, Ram had started to feel lonely. He was, and always had been in dire need of friends. No one else in the tribe seemed to understand him or be honest with him as much as Lacchu had. At least, that is what Ram felt. 

“Yeah, sure.” Lacchu acquiesced. And Ram, Ram felt relieved as if he’d dodged a bullet. When he had gone with Lacchu to get the supplies, he had not thought the night before returning to the tribe would turn this desolate as the younger man opened a packet of marijuana with a twinkle in his eye and carefully rolled a joint. They had begun to form an acquaintance. Well, acquaintance would still be too far-fetched. Lacchu had not forgiven him. Was likely not going to ever. Ram was okay with that. It was definitely not friendship. Fraternizing? God, he hoped not. Whatever the confines or definitions would be, the crux of the matter was Lacchu was tolerating him gradually, in small quantities, for when they either had to work together, albeit reluctantly, judging by the amount of complaining Lacchu would do, or in the rare events of Lacchu wanting someone to share his joint with. “But they'll get over it. I'm not important enough. Not useful enough.”

“You are useful.”

“Yeah, not like you! It’s like-,” Lacchu mused for a second, “like salt in gulab jamuns.”

Ram could not help but huff out a tiny laugh. “Well, at least you’re funnier than I am.” “Ah, a clown then.” Lacchu glanced sideways at Ram.

“Please don't. Being morose and melancholic is my jam.” 

“Well yeah, glad to piss on your parade!” He offered the lit joint to Ram who declined with a wave of his hand. Lacchu shrugged.

“Please tell me this is your stupid idea of a joke. Because I am not going to lug all this-” Ram gestured vaguely to the supplies, “back alone.” The attempt for the humour absolutely fell flat but Lacchu smirked nonetheless, his dark eyes emanating waves of sadness in the pinkish evening light. “You're not serious, are you?” Ram was actually worried now.

“Maybe. ‘M not suicidal if that's what you're worried about. Just you know, indifferent.” The younger man took another lazy drag.

“To death?” Ram squealed - which he would absolutely deny later. 

“Why not?” he retorted. Ram had no answer. Fortunately, Lacchu did not notice the dumbfounded look on Ram’s face, going on his own trajectory. “I mean, I am just a microscopic cog in a catastrophic war. Unimportant. Replaceable. I have no purpose. If I die, someone else will take my place and the revolt will go on. It’s not like I am Bheem. Or you.” He added as an afterthought. 

“Do you genuinely think if Bheem or I die, the revolt will suffer?” Lacchu nodded his head. “Well, let me tell you. That is not true. I think the inquilaab has gained enough momentum that no one man will be able to take it ahead or stop. We will be free. I feel it in my bones.” There was a twinkle of hope in Ram’s eyes that made Lacchu bite back his comeback. If he were bothered to look closely, Ram would find a glint of appreciation for him in the dark eyes of the other man. 

“Maybe. But your village, this tribe, a small part of it will be devastated.” Before Ram could assure him that they would be saddened by his demise too, Lacchu continued. “I used to think that we, as humans, do not serve a glorious purpose. We too are meant to exist in harmony with nature. Birth, do your thing, and death. Soil to soil. Ashes to ashes. That sort of thing. You know, most of us, who live in the forest think so. I was very much at peace then.” Lacchu contemplated out loud, taking another puff. At this point, it was more like he was babbling, not for Ram. for the surroundings. For the very forest on whose precipice they were sitting. As if the Universe or Nature would have an answer in the form of the rustle of the dark leaves, a quiver of the branches, an occasional hoot of an owl, or the rapidly rising chirp of the cicadas. 

“Hmm… A glorious purpose is bad for mental peace.” Ram chuckled softly. He liked this Lacchu. Free. Open. And just the right side of insane. 

“But then YOU.” He jabbed the finger of his free hand in Ram’s chest. “OW!” Ram was surprised by the sudden force. “You had to capture me. You had to torture me. You had to torture my- Bheem.” Ram gaped at him openmouthed. Eerily similar to a goldfish in the tank. “Actually, you know what? It goes further than that. Before you. THEY had to capture Malli. And then Delhi. I was so ignorant. Naive. Stupid. But happy. I sure was happy.” He sounded too nostalgic for Ram’s liking. “How do you do it, Ram?” 

“Honesty? I have no idea anymore. It is like I am on autopilot. I had no choice. I have no choice. Sometimes I wish I could- I just-” The next part was confessed, so tender, so soft, that Lacchu barely could hear it. There is something about nature and nights that make you vulnerable to an unnerving degree, and Ram, Ram was no exception. “want to run away.” He laughed just as he said it out loud. And laughed harder still. “Look at this! The great Alluri Sita Rama Raju wanting to run away like a coward!”

“Well, you could. At least I’d get back my best friend.” 

“Lacchu I-”

“Please don’t.” 

“Right.” Ram cleared his throat which sounded like an apology in disguise. "You never told him, did you?"

“Told him what?” 

Ram pointed his eyes at the hand lying in Lacchu’s lap, the middle finger slightly bent, not having healed properly from Ram’s assault. Lacchu reflexively coiled his hand into a fist as if that would hide the injuries Ram was intimately aware of being the one who put him there. “There’s no point,” he said dismissively. But of course, because he was just a little bit of a bastard, he added, “The question here is, why didn’t you?”

Now, Lacchu was not by any means a petty man. Then again, he was also not the very embodiment of sweetness and benevolence as Bheem. Ram visibly jerked as if he had felt a literal whiplash to his face. And that reaction brought a minuscule satisfaction, a soothing effect of a salve to his otherwise aching heart. 

“I don’t know.” Well, Ram exactly knew why. There was no point in hiding anymore. “I didn’t,” he corrected, “I don’t want him to hate me. Not any more than he does, if he doesn’t already. I know it is incredibly selfish of me but-”

“He doesn’t hate you. If he did, you’d know. He hates just as he loves, with a dangerous fury. It can be scathing when directly aimed at you. Like the Sun.”

“Huh. perhaps that is true. Like the Sun. Too near and you burn, too far and you freeze to death.”

“Hmm. It is a double-edged sword. Finding the perfect distance. For what it’s worth, I am a little relieved you didn’t tell him. Bheem- he,” Lacchu paused to collect his words forming at a speed in his mind which his tongue could not keep up with. “He does not do well with hate. He was not made for it.”

“Isn’t that an irony?” Ram smiled sadly. “I was made exactly for that.”

“Right. I guess it goes something like - opposites attract?” Lacchu raised an eyebrow, and Ram could not help but add a hint of authenticity to his smile, widening by a mere millimetre. Lacchu wanted to say something, his mouth opening to form a wide yawn instead but he didn’t bother to cover it with his hand.

"Lacchu," Ram called out softly to the man who was already teetering on the edge of dozing off. "Get some sleep. I'll take the first watch." It usually meant Ram would end up being awake for the whole night anyway. Not waking lacchu up. They never spoke about it. Lacchu never offered or chastised. 

Lacchu just hummed in response, stretching more on the makeshift bed, and turning onto his stomach. Ram stole a glance at him, he looked innocent. And younger than he was. The past few months had made him grow up sooner than he should have. Those early years of youth, stolen. Passing him by. Just like Ram and his childhood. However, here, Ram was one of the major culprits. 

For now, all he could do was to protect him from physical harm that may befall him. And hope that he would learn his worth someday. By himself. An opportunity that was robbed of Ram. He had not worked that out you see, his worth had always been thrust upon him. More so after Baba's demise. Ram tried not to think about that gruesome episode. Although, lonely nights were the perfect catalysts for such thoughts. However, tonight, Ram refused to draw into the familiar feeling of despair - his constant companion whom he’d learned to be more than comfortable with. 

So, in the dark, almost silent, very much serene backdrop of the late hour, Ram pulled out the packet from his companion’s backpack and rolled himself a new companion. It was a little out of shape, pressed a bit too hard on one side, but it would do. He lit it, the first drag blowing into the breeze, mingling with the damp air… and the smoker began to count his blessings beneath the stars.

//

let me know if it was good, bad, or downright ugly. comments are welcome as always :))

@ronaldofandom - you are going to love me for this.

@carminavulcana @vijayasena @yehsahihai @ladydarkey @taylorklaine @fathomlessbabbling idk who else to tag. Lmk!

#doodles fics #rrr #rrr fics #lacchu rrr #ram rrr #bheem rrr #lacchu and ram #dialogue heavy #rrr movie #rrr fandom #mostly angst and talking #light angst

[pesbianlanic]

july 2023 reading

books in bold are especially recommended!

The Sundial by Shirley Jackson - 3.5/5. jackson's stuff is always so creepy because of the blanks left unfilled. suspenseful and mysterious.

Woman, Eating by Claire Kohda - 5/5. a BEAUTIFUL little novel about a young vampire navigating desire, hunger, and self.

Sarahland by Sam Cohen - 5/5. this collection of short stories is incredible. i will be thinking about it and rereading it for the rest of my life, i think. my absolute favorite stories were “The First Sarah” and “Becoming Trees.”

This Is Salvaged by Vauhini Vara - 3.5/5. each of these short stories were beautifully written. i think they just weren't for me. my favorites were "The Irates" and "You Are Not Alone."

The Mountain in the Sea by Ray Nayler - 5/5. gorgeous and thought-provoking book about personhood, consciousness, environment, and communication. this is one of those books that i will be thinking about for a very long time.

Life Ceremony by Sayaka Murata - 4/5. Murata is skilled at exploring the strange and grotesque in a way that makes it believable and sensible. some of these short stories fell flat for me, but the one's that didn't were incredible.

Twilight by Stephenie Meyer. reread because my best friend and i have the twilight brainrot right now. i'm now a bella/alice shipper. support the Quileute tribe.

New Moon by Stephenie Meyer. this reread is only solidifying my bella/alice ship.

Eclipse by Stephenie Meyer. more rereading. the melodrama is strong in this one

salt slow by Julia Armfield - 5/5. a delightfully strange collection of short stories! my favorites were "The Great Awake," and "Formerly Feral," and "Cassandra After."

Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle - 5/5. mr. tingle's foray into religious horror strikes a perfect balance of terror, realism, and hope!

#jules tries to read books again #books #shirley jackson #woman eating #claire kohda #sarahland #the mountain and the sea #sayaka murata #twilight #twilight renaissance #bellice #salt slow #julia armfield #camp damascus #chuck tingle

[latin-american-diversity]

The Wayuu and the Salt of Manaure

“At the northernmost tip of Colombia and South America, the Guajira peninsula juts into the Caribbean Sea like a finger. This hot cactus-studded desert, which sees very little rain, is populated by a tough but easygoing people—the Waiuu Indians. The Spanish conquistadors who reached Colombia’s Guajira peninsula in the sixteenth century reported that those Indians traded the salt they extracted from the sea for the gold produced by tribes of the land’s interior. Knowing the conquistadors’ obsession with the precious metal, they probably ended that trade brutally upon discovering it. However, at Manaure, a dusty village, the Waiuu today are still producing salt. And as everywhere in the developing world where I have watched salt manually produced, it’s hard work here too, though much less so than in the Sahara and Ethiopia. It also brings the Waiuu little money. For a few generations the salt flats have also been exploited industrially by a government company, which buys the Waiuu salt. Manaure fills 65% of Colombia’s salt needs. Thanks to a scorching sun, a dry and windy climate, and natural lagoons, Manaure was always a perfect place for that activity. Though some miners work there all year, most of them do so only during the more productive three summer months. The rest of the time the Waiuu fish or herd goats. They live in mud houses as well as in flattened cactus huts. And they sleep in hammocks, many of them beautifully woven by women and wide enough to accommodate couples. As in many other parts of the developing world, the Waiuu spend much time getting water from distant wells as well as firewood. At least they did so between 1974 and 1987, when I visited them three times. Much has changed there now.” - Victor Englebert

#indigenous #wayuu #native american #capitalism #indigenous people #la guajira #wayuus #guajiros #colombia #south america #colombian #native americans

[theyareweird]

Nurturing Beastman – Chapter 4

Mate or Die

According to Onica, they instructed Felix to specifically wash Kianna’s underwear in cold water, while scrubbing the cloth with lemon juice and salt. Then, let it dry with exposure to sunlight. This was apparently an alternative to removing blood from clothes without hydrogen peroxide. Because of this, Kianna’s only pair of underwear was saved. She was able to put them back on later. Of course, Kianna lined it with the cotton strips Onica requested for her earlier. Thanks to this method, the light brunette haired girl was free to walk around again.

“What are you doing up, Kianna?” Niko asked, walking into the clinic hut. “Nurturers on their uterus cycles should stay seated and indoors at all times until the seven days are up.” He explained.

“Onica helped me find a way to manage the bleeding. As long as I have lots of cotton, I’ll be fine.” She replied in a flat tone.

“Huh?” Niko gawked, tilting his head to the side. The black cat couldn’t understand how Kianna could come across as blunt and emotionless as a demanding feline while maintaining the intelligence of an ape. Perhaps her mother was a cat.

“What’s that smell?” Onica cringed, entering the clinic hut. They momentarily stepped out to dump the bloody water from the wooden bowl Felix previously used to clean Kianna’s underwear. Setting the bowl down, Onica looked up to see Niko holding some kind of trout in his hands.

Niko grinned at Onica. His yellow eyes sparkled at her words. “I caught some fish by our tribe river for you and Kianna to eat. You both must be starving.”

Onica stared at the dead-eyed fish in his hands. Their frown deepened. Based on the algae and pungent fishy odor, Niko had yet to wash the trout properly. “Oh! Uh, thank you. We can eat it once it has been prepared.” Onica replied.

Niko beamed at them. “Of course! I’ll have the trout washed and cut up for you.” The black cat smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to get rid of any bones. I don’t want either of you getting hurt.” Niko reassured them.

Kianna pursed her mouth. “Are you not going to cook it?” She questioned. Sure, sushi exists in her original world, but Kianna believed it wasn’t safe to consume anything raw from this universe. If it came down to it, she would cook the fish herself.

Niko turned his body around to face Kianna. “Huh? Cook it? What do you mean?” He questioned.

Onica face-palmed themself in response. They were surely going to die at this rate from salmonella due to uncooked food and unsanitized water. Since Niko hadn’t heard of cooking before, it was safe to assume Beastman had no need to worry about contracting such diseases with their animal biology. Unfortunately, Onica and Kianna were human and have much different biology compared to a cat.

Onica averted their eyes. They had no idea how to explain their different physical needs without causing suspicion to them being from another world. “Um…” Onica hummed. They paused. Onica was at a loss for words.

Seeing Onica’s distress, Kianna acknowledged the situation. “They want to show you a better way to enjoy fish.” She blurted.

Onica’s eyebrows rose. Their pale blue eyes widened. “Yes!” Onica exclaimed, turning on their heel to point at Kianna. Turning back to Niko, they smiled and said “I want to show you a new way to eat fish. It will taste much better this way.”

Niko huffed. “I highly doubt you can make fish taste any better than it already does. But I’ll do whatever you want.”

Onica beamed. “Great! Do you know how to start a fire?” They were nervously twiddling their fingers. Onica had never made a fire before and certainly wouldn’t know how to figure it out now.

“Of course,” Niko nodded. “Do you wish to bathe?” He asked.

“Huh?” Onica blinked in confusion. “No.” They replied, shaking their head. “I want to use fire to cook the fish.” Onica explained.

“The Ape Clan is confusing.” Niko mumbled to himself. “Okay. I’ll make a fire outside.”

“Good. Then, can you boil some water for me?” Onica asked.

Niko nodded and said, “I’ll find an iron pot.” With that, the black cat turned and started heading towards the door.

Onica then gasped upon realizing they had forgotten something. “Wait!” They cried, stretching out their hand. “Where are you getting the water from?”

Niko stopped to look over his shoulder at Onica’s question. “Bathing water is gathered from nearby lakes and ponds. Drinking water is from the river.” Niko explained.

“Good. Any water we consume should always come from a running source.” Onica sighed in relief.

Kianna then spoke up and asked, “Do any of you pee in these water sources?”

Niko violently shook his head. “Oh, no! Water is far too precious to contaminate. It’s a wide-known rule to never pee or poop within a hundred feet of any water.”

Although Kianna didn’t react, she seemed content with the answer. It was certainly something Onica was relieved to hear. “Good to know!” They sighed.

After the conversation, Niko was out the door. Felix had left a while ago to gather fresh herbs from the forest and wouldn’t be returning anytime soon. Not a moment after Niko went to the front of the hut, the village chief paid Onica and Kianna a visit.

“Dear child, now that you’ve come of age, it’s time to pick your first mate.” Kiki announced. “I’ll gather every eligible Nature Beastman in the village and have you choose from them. Are you attracted to male or female-looking Beastman?”

Kianna’s jaw instantly dropped to the floor. Female Beastman may be physically mature to bear children by age sixteen, but human females needed to be at least twenty-two years old to physically and mentally mother a child. Being a sixteen-year-old girl, Kianna wasn’t ready to have a partner or raise kids. “Uh, I like both…” She hesitantly said. Kianna didn’t want to answer, but considering she had witnessed first-hand what these Nature Beastman were capable of, she didn’t want to anger them and end up dead.

Kiki pumped his fist into the air and said “Splendid, dear child! I’ll gather everyone to the clinic hut!”

“Hold on!” Onica cried, holding a hand out. “What if Kianna isn’t ready to find a mate? Or doesn’t like any of the Nature Beastman here?” They questioned, hoping to come to this poor girl’s defense. Onica had no idea how old Kianna is, but they knew she’s likely in her adolescent years. Being eighteen themself, they instinctively were defensive of the potential teenage child in the room.

“Well, then I would exchange Kianna for goods to another clan.” Kiki bluntly replied.

Onica’s eyes widened at this. “Exchange? As in, sell? You’re just going to sell her off if she doesn’t pick a mate from your clan?!”

Kiki’s green cat eyes were stern. “Of course, Nurturers are a precious and rare resource. If Kianna doesn’t wish to mate with anyone from this tribe or any other part of the cat clan, I’ll have to sell her. A Nurturer’s purpose is to mate and use their abilities to raise a loving family. Without Nurturers, offspring fail to learn compassion, sympathy, empathy, devotion and trust. In addition, they won’t know how to build and maintain healthy relationships... As a result, the young are nothing but monsters.”

“Why can’t Nature Beastman teach these things to their kids?” Onica argued.

Kiki then paused to catch his breath before he continued and said, “Nature Beastman are more animal than person. They’re controlled by instinct rather than logic, morals or emotions. Nature Beastman can’t teach what they naturally lack.”

Onica was defeated. Although change is nature, this only applies to the part people can influence. This wasn’t it. Telling this different species to change their life cycles was like telling a human being to not be happy or to always be heterosexual. These things were simply part of Beastman kind and weren’t going to change.

Onica sighed. “Okay, but what if this one Nurturer didn’t take a Nature Beastman as a mate but another Nurturer instead?” This was a long shoot, but at least Kianna would be with someone a bit more sane.

Kiki shook his head in response. “A Nurturer’s genetics are also required for Beastman to gain the form of a person. Without that, the offspring are nothing but savage animals, incapable of farming, building, matting a person, etcetera.”

Onica’s mouth was agape. “It’s biologically impossible for Nature Beastman or Nurturer Beastman to mate with one another…”

Kiki nodded firmly. “Nature Beastman couples kill each other and their offspring. They’re too dominant, controlling, aggressive and possessive. Nurturer couples don’t feel attraction, purpose or safety with each other. They always end up dead due to lack of survival support.”

Kianna and Onica were horrified at their current predicament. Based on the chief’s matter-of-fact tone, these were historical facts of this world. If Kianna and Onica wanted to survive, they had to find Nature Beastman mates.

Kianna Komori OC by: @nunezs-stuff

#nurturing beastman #beastman #queer #lgbtq+ #nonbinary #story

[bouncehousedemons]

Blood & Thunder

Rating: T Pairing: Hvitserk x OFC Warnings: Slight angst, mild mentions of blood and violence. Word count: ~1400

Summary: Since arriving in the Golden Land, Hvitserk has felt he is missing his purpose in life. That is until his meets a young woman from the Mi’kmaq tribe who reignites his sense of adventure.

Author's note: Happy birthday @captainkilly // @underragingwaves! This is my gift to you. I hope you enjoy it. This is part of my wider Salt of the Earth and Sea series, but can be read as a standalone. A while ago someone commented saying it would be nice if Hvitserk was given his own love interest in the Golden Land. Knowing how lazy I am when it comes to writing fics off my own steam, I set myself the deadline of Killy's birthday to write this, so I could gift it to her.

It has been three months since Hvitserk was reunited with his elder brother, Ubbe. Three months of becoming accustomed to life in a new land. Three months of settling into an uneventful life of farmsteading. It is peaceful and it is quiet. Why is it always so quiet?

Hvitserk longs for adventure, but most of all he longs for someone to share it with. He looks upon Ubbe and his flame-haired lover, Casja and covets what they have. He has not been with anyone since losing Thora, but now he longs for companionship.

Hvitserk finds himself drawn to the neighbouring Skraeling tribe, soon learning that they refer to themselves as Mi’kmaq. They hunt with spears and arrows, use every part of their kill and roam for miles on horseback. While there are plenty of similarities between his people and theirs, it is their differences that intrigue him most. It slakes a thirst for the unknown that is part of the very fabric of Hvitserk’s soul.

One young woman in particular captures his attention; Avaldidida. Hvitserk has never heard a name so beautiful. Her umber eyes turn to the colour of honey in the sunlight, her long dark hair falls loose around the bronzed skin of her shoulders, with intricate braids adorned with beads and feathers. She must surely be a goddess, Hvitserk thinks.

Upon their first meeting Avaldidida comments on the fact that Hvitserk’s eyes aren’t blue like the others’. Blue eyes mean danger. Completely misreading her comment, Hvitserk leans in to kiss her and laughs in shock when she forces him backwards, the flat of her palm to his forehead.

Despite this, Avaldidida and Hvitserk become firm friends. Seeing her quickly becomes the highlight of every day for him. They hunt together on horseback, skin the pelts from their kills and spear fish on days when the weather allows it. She chuckles at how bad his aim is with a bow and arrow while riding and when he is able to smile along with her, Hvitserk knows his heart is no longer his own.

When Avaldidida does not show up that day for the ride they had planned, Hvitserk feels that something must be wrong. He travels on horseback to the nearby Mi’kmaq settlement to seek Avaldidida out and is immediately concerned by the scene that greets him.

A woman wails in anguish over the prone form of a young man. A bloody wound oozes in his chest, red and grisly. The settlement is a clamour of activity, as people rush to grab weapons and mount horses.

“You have to go!” Avaldidida says urgently to Hvitserk as she rushes over to him.

“What has happened?” Hvitserk asks, dismounting and placing a gentle hand on Avaldidida’s shoulder.

“There are people…like you.” She replies hesitantly. “They attacked a group that were fishing. They have killed Peminuit. We must defend ourselves. You cannot be here.”

“I’m helping you.” Hvitserk says without hesitation.

Avaldidida’s eyes go wide. She studies Hvitserk’s face to see if he is being serious.

"You would help us, Hvitserk?" Avaldidida asks, a hint of disbelief to her tone. "You'd be risking your life."

"And I'd do it gladly for you, Ava." He responds with a proud smile.

Avaldidida averts her eyes, a small smile playing upon her lips. Ava. She likes that.

“Do you have a weapon?” She asks.

Hvitserk unclips the axe from his belt, holding it out for her to inspect.

“That will not be enough.” Avaldidida states.

“Oh, trust me.” Hvitserk grins. “It will be.”

Hvitserk falls back into the throes of battle like it is the arms of an old lover. His heart hammers in his chest, he revels in the thrill of it all. Howling like a wolf, he hacks and slashes through men who, once upon a time, he would have fought alongside, not against. 

He wears the blood on his face as proudly as the wolfish grin that never falters. It matters not that he is attacking and killing what are potentially fellow Northmen. He has a new purpose to fight for now; her.

When the last of their opponents have fled, their numbers cut back to too few to stand a chance, Hvtiserk screams triumphantly. His eyes search for Avaldidida and finds her sheathing the last of her arrows.

He strides over to her, pulling her into a tight hug, a wide smile still plastered to his face.

“We did it, Ava!”

His smile finally fades when she pushes him roughly backwards. He stumbles a little, confusion taking hold of him.

Avaldidida’s body language is rigid and tense, her facial expression is cold. Hvitserk feels he can see a look of slight disappointment in her eyes. It’s only when he looks around he notices the rest of the Mi’kmaq tribe are mirroring her body language, regarding him cautiously.

“Thank you for your help.” She says flatly, before turning to walk away.

“Wait!” He rushes to block her path. Hvitserk looks at her, his brow furrowed, his eyes filled with sadness. "I don't understand what I did wrong."

Avaldidida sighs, bowing her head for a moment before looking up at him, a frown distorting her delicate facial features. “You take pleasure in killing, Hvitserk. There is no honour in taking another person’s life. We do it only to protect ourselves, not for enjoyment.”

Hvitserk stares at her, his mouth agape, too dumbfounded to say anything.

“Go back to your brother, Hvitserk.”, Avaldidida says, a tinge of sorrow in her voice. “You are too dangerous to be around my people.”

Hvitserk feels as though his world has imploded. No one has ever turned their back on him because of his prowess in battle before. He does not sleep that night, his heart aches over Avaldidida’s rejection of him.

He turns her words around in his mind; “you take pleasure in killing”. He used to. However, today he’d taken pride in defending the woman he loves and helping to defend her people. Perhaps it didn’t help that he’d never actually told her he was in love with her. But he was certainly no danger to her and he’d make her see that.

At dawn’s first light, Hvitserk is up and back on his horse. He will not wait around for Avaldidida to forgive him. He will earn it. He has never shied away from a challenge and this is one he is more than prepared to take.

Word quickly spreads throughout the Mi’kmaq as they spot Hvitserk’s approach. Avaldidida is already waiting for him when he arrives - an arrow strung in her bow and pointed directly at him.

“Leave or I will kill you.” She orders.

“If you wanted to kill me you would have by now.” Hvitserk says with a gentle smile, as he jumps down from his horse. “I’ve seen you hunt with that, you could have gotten me when I was a mile back, but you didn’t.”

She sighs, lowering her bow, holding the arrow as she releases the tension on the string. “Why are you here?”

“To give you this.” Hvitserk unclips his axe and lays it at her feet.

She says nothing, quirking an eyebrow at him questioningly.

“You are right, Ava.” He confesses with a slight shrug. “I did enjoy the battle yesterday, but only because I was fighting for you. My axe is yours, as is my heart. I don’t care if you never want to see me again after this, that is your choice, such as it is mine to fight for you.”

Her expression is unreadable as Hvitserk looks at her, although her body language seems slightly less guarded. Hvitserk takes a few steps back, having said all he wanted to say, he intends to leave.

He freezes in shock when she pushes forward, pressing her lips against his. When he doesn’t respond she pulls away, embarrassment radiating from her. 

Hvitserk is quick to regain his composure, realising his mistake. He pulls her to him and kisses her hungrily, something he has yearned to do since the day he first laid eyes upon her. 

She smiles as their lips finally part, their foreheads resting together. “At least you are a better kisser than you are an archer.”

#vikings fanfiction #vikings history #vikings #hvitserk #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk x ofc #hvitserk fanfiction #hvitserk's heathen feast #vikings hvitserk #hvitserk x oc #vikings fic #vikings history channel #vikings fandom

[aetheltrythh]

On the Origin of Dream's Raven Kink

I've finished a new fic, you can read it also on AO3. Thanks to @tryan-a-bex for beta reading :-).

Summary

Dream of the Endless has not always had a raven. Not until he got the raven kink from a cave woman named Lusyjen.

Notes:

With a story like this, every word is a potential trap for some sort of historical inaccuracy, so, kindly suspend your disbelief and let's go!

Prologue

"Dream of the Endless always has a raven," Lucienne says, tilting her head, brimming with concern, as I am about to leave for the Waking again, standing on the pier at the sea of dreams and nightmares.

No, not always. You forget. It has been long.

You were the first one and after you, I could not do without a raven.

Only now, I must. It is a fair story that you are trying to tell me, but  "Jessamy was the last."

I could not protect her. It is as if a part of me died. Yet another part. If the pain of it will ever pass, I do not know, although I am aware that all memories dull with time, even mine. The bond was... strong. I spent much time looking at the world through her eyes. I know what she would tell me if she was here now and discarded her usual diplomacy. That I should get out more. Use my own eyes. That I do not really need her. But I do. Company is a rare thing. I think you are here for something else, I can still hear Hob's voice in my mind. I am loath to admit it but I do yearn for something, someone. Perhaps I should put more trust in Lucienne, if not in anyone else. Though I am not sure whether I know how. Whether I ever have. She told me she did not feel abandoned when the Dreaming started to crumble and the library was lost to her. But she must have felt... lonely. And yet she remained, even if she could have crossed to the Waking.

I must find a way to make it up to her. Alleviate her burden. Otherwise, there may come a day when everything is too much, even for her.

She does not see my hands tremble as I face away from her and the sea parts before me.

Lucienne

45,000 years ago in what is today mainland Greece (and remember folks, this is the Ice Age).

The nights grow longer; another season of cold and snow is nigh. I know that I will not...would not...last through it. My tribe knows that too. Nobody has said anything, but when we arrive in a deep valley wherein lies a cave that I hold most sacred - and therefore, they do too - we stop. Shelters are built among the trees in front of the cave. We... they...will be here for days after....

I am not afraid. Or am I?

When the preparations are done, four of the men carry me inside, where a fire burns already. I can no longer smell the salt and fish in the air from the sea - the great water that one cannot drink - as I could outside. It is not far. Shadows would lengthen for maybe one ell before one would arrive at its shore. I am fond of the sea though it is also dreadful. They lay me down on a flat stone covered by several layers of fur. Many years ago, my mother and I put paintings on these walls. Ravens and wolves. Facing my father's and brother's red deer and horses painted in red ochre. They are still there, but now I can barely see them. My eyes have weakened to the point of not being able to find herbs in woods and meadows, making me rely on my nose. My remaining teeth are worn out. I can only eat, with difficulty, the most tender meat and berries and mushrooms. My joints are painful and swollen when walking from sunrise to sunset. Hunting is a thing of the past. I have lost half of my hair and I know that there is some foulness in my blood. I have lived much longer than most. Perhaps it is a thing that happens when one has seen too many winters. The cold consumes the soul's strength coursing in one's veins. I am the wise woman of my tribe, a wosa, and yet there is so much I do not know.

I thumb the cave lion teeth hanging from a flax string around my neck. They have as many notches in them as all fingers and toes of two healthy people together. For as long as I can remember, I have been making a notch for every time that the snow melted and birches and oaks sprouted new leaves, heralding the spring and the coming abundance of food. My finger stops on the second notch of the oldest tooth, yellowed by time; that was when I first encountered ravens. Magnificent black birds, their feathers shiny like water flowing over rocks. None of us has seen such as them in the land from which we journeyed, in need of more space and more game. Others of my tribe thought them croaking, but to me, they spoke. Not in words, precisely, but in visions and feelings. Two ravens have been following me ever since. The elders did not believe me. I was too young for such things, they said.  A few years later, when I crafted a lightweight spear with an antler tip as I saw it in a vision of other people making it - I observed them as if I was perched on a tree right above them - the elders shook their heads. A child's toy, they said. A spear must be thick and have a stone tip, they said. When I returned to our settlement with a deer so large I could barely carry it, they began paying attention.

A pair of ravens now wait silently outside the cave for my last flight. As usual, they have been given the best meat from this morning's kill in sacrifice. And eyes. They need them for their farsight. I can feel their contentment. They will mourn me but they know that all things must end. As did their predecessors; they are not the first ones. It is only natural and proper. My niece and nephew begin to play their flutes made of mute swan bone. Another notch on the first tooth calls me to touch it. That was the year I first saw the strange man-shaped spirit in my dreams. I have seen him many times after but he never spoke and I never told anyone about him. He would not have approved of that, I felt. But I know that it is he who has been helping me to guide shards of people's souls back to their bodies. It is an easy thing for a soul-part to wander off into the unseen realms after a terror or loss. Not so easy to lead it back where it belongs. I have also been reconciling the malevolent spirits that cause pains and ailments. But that too, has its bounds. I can no longer lure them away from myself.

I open my eyes. The man-shaped spirit stands two steps from the foot of my stone bed as if called by my thoughts. Even though he has never appeared to me outside of the dreamworld, even here, I am the only one who sees him. The others but avoid the space where he is standing. He is nothing like men of the waking world; his face is smooth like a young woman's, skin without a fault, as light as the palest seashell. No one has that, not my kin, not any people I have heard of in the countless trading circles I took part in. And then there are his eyes... I grew accustomed to them and they are kind but the colour is all wrong. Blue as the sea in sunlight. And yet, they are beautiful. He looks sorrowful, more than usual, but even so, the corners of his lips move slightly upwards when he looks at me and nods. I shut my eyes again. 

The men of my tribe approach me one by one, touching my arms and shoulders, then fanning out towards the light coming from the cave entrance. The women do the same, only, they take positions in the opposite direction, heading further into the darkness and its heart; there is a passage there, leading down to a cavern with a lake where rocks hang from the roof like the limbs of the sea creatures that have so many of them. The women are to guide my soul into the shadows before it can enter another world, if the Great Mother wills it so. I would perhaps welcome it. 

A vision that I have had for a long time bothers me as I have never been able to truly grasp it. Perhaps I will when I join my ancestors. I have been making signs, not only on my lion teeth, but on countless bones, on cave walls, on wood, and in the dirt. To mark the passage of the moon and the sun, to imitate what animal footprints and herb leaves look like and thus capture their essence to persist long after I am dead. But what if there was more than that? A way to keep our songs and the stories that we tell when sitting at the evening fire. The earliest ones I have heard are long gone from my memory. I wish they weren't.

I breathe slowly. I am ready. Almost no one dies like this, without much pain. I am lucky. My chest is heavy and I fall into the warm embrace of sleep.

***

When I wake, I know that I have left my body, irrevocably. Sitting up, I look around myself. Still in a cave, but it is different. This one has an even higher ceiling and a large opening through which a myriad of stars are shining. At the sides, several fires are burning, each of a different colour. I touch my feet slowly to the ground. Sand. I look to the far end of the cave.

"Welcome in my realm and in my abode, Lusyjen." The pale spirit hasn't opened his mouth, but I can hear his words all the same. His first words to me. "Come closer." He sits in a stone seat, several steps above the floor, black fur with long hair from an animal unknown to me wrapped around his bare shoulders, legs covered with a sort of black-hide leggings, the reason for which I cannot understand as his dwelling is summer-warm. No matter, the ways of otherworldly beings are incomprehensible. They have their own reasons for everything and their moods are volatile. Behind him, gemstone crystals are protruding from the wall, larger and clearer than all the stones that traders have ever brought before me.

I come to stand still at the foot of the steps. What he is, I do not know even now. Not a spirit of forests or rivers. Not of the mountains or the sea. Something larger than that still. Perhaps the Moon himself. The pale guardian of night and sleep, clothed in the colour of raven feathers.

I bow my head as he descends to me. Not knowing how to address him properly, now that he has decided to use words, in my mind, I conjure a vision of wolves honouring the night and the moon with their howls, of the silent wings of night owls, and of children fast asleep in their mothers' arms.

He gently lifts my chin and looks into my eyes. "You may wonder why you are here. It is within my power to offer you residence in the Dreaming and my protection, as you died in your sleep." The Dreaming...that's what he calls this other world then. The whole of it is...his? Observing me with curiosity, he sits upright, hands planted firmly on the sides of his seat. Then he leans slightly leans forward. "In turn, I would ask you to be my messenger and my eyes and ears in the waking world."

"Yrshaya," I say; a word for someone of great esteem and status. "It would be my honour."

One does not refuse a call to serve a being such as him.

"Very well." He smiles in a small, secretive way. Something stirs in my chest... I have never had children but I would offer my protection to him too, however insignificant it may be, as I would protect and care for a young one. He is so thin. Like we sometimes are after a season of poor hunting. "You may choose any form that you like. A woman. A man. An animal. Anything in between. You are no longer bound to mortal flesh."

For a little while, I think about it, but I have no real doubt.

"A raven."

And then, I am much smaller and I have wings. Extending them, I look at my new feathers and try to flap them. They lift me into the air and I land on the nearest thing - the spirit's shoulder - which is also a very good place to be. He angles his head towards me and strokes my back lightly.

This gives me the boldness to ask, "Do you have a name, yrshaya? I should like to know, if I am to serve you."

His voice rumbles at the back of my head and when it does, there is no space for anything else. "Not a name like yours. But. I am known. As. Dream of the Endless. The Prince of Stories. And the Shaper of Forms."

Dream.

What Endless might be, I cannot grasp. All things must end, and begin, again and again. But I know now that I have always been his creature. It is right. I am skilled at moving in the dreamworld and bringing back stories to tell men and women to heal them. I know the Waking and the seen and unseen paths of people and animals, even though I yearn to learn more.

I cannot resist carding through his hair with my beak and brushing my head softly against his cheek. Sitting down on the steps with a sigh, he lets me.

Notes

I have done quite a lot of research for such a short fic, but still, there is probably a lot of bullshit. A good things is that no one who has lived in that time is going to read it, so hopefully, no one will be personally offended :D. Unless we have a paleolithic Hob Gadling among us.

The climate was much colder in the Ice Age than it is today, even in the Mediterranean. Hence the concern with winter.

I do not know where the word wosa came from According to ChatGPT, it's not from any known language, so I hope I haven't stolen it from some work of fiction. If so, please tell me.

I set the story at the beginning of the upper paleolithic transition, which is supposed to be the beginning of 'modern' humanity. It looks like we have started to think in new ways and do lots of new shenanigans. See for example this video by John Vervaeke from cca 00:26:00

The common notion is that women in hunter-gatherer societies did not hunt, just gather, but it’s not that clear anymore. They actually may have.

Regarding blue eyes, that would be shocking at the time. Literally no one had that, the trait started to develop from around 10,000 years ago. Regarding light skin colour, it is my understanding that even in people who migrated to northern regions such as Europe and Asia, at this point, it wouldn't have had time to develop. Dream is supposed to look like to the person who sees him, but I did this to emphasize that Lucienne can see his otherworldliness.

I am horrible, I just had to dress Dream in pre-historic leather pants and some spectacular fur over bare chest and shoulders :-).

The question is, when does Lucienne become the librarian? If it's with the invention of cuneiform, she'll have to wait for quite a bit before her vision comes true...

#the sandman #dream of the endless #sandman fanfic #lucienne #lucienne becoming dream's raven #pre-history #shamanism

[the-everqueen]

Hello! I’m interested in any book recs you have 💕

this is going to be some of my favorites, but if you want specific recs, let me know what things you've enjoyed/are looking for and i can tailor a shortlist (open offer):

fiction

mongrels, stephen graham jones - a coming of age story about an Indigenous teen descended from werewolves. jones is mostly known for the only good indians, which is also very good, but this book touched my monster-loving heart.

the sparrow, mary doria russel - a jesuit missionary is the only survivor of the first crew to travel to an alien planet. i read this book for the first time last year and i haven't stopped thinking about it. the sequel children of god made me even crazier (affectionate).

kindred, octavia butler - a black woman gets pulled back in time where she has to repeatedly save her white ancestor in antebellum maryland. time loops! the past as an actor on our present! what are you willing to do in order to survive! i think if you only read one octavia butler book, it should probably be either this one or dawn.

dead astronauts, jeff vandermeer - a trio from the future is traveling through loopholes in spacetime in an attempt to save the universe from latest-possible-stage capitalism. it's weird and experimental and more like a spoken word poem than a novel.

far sector, nk jemisin - this is a graphic novel about a black femme green lantern trying to prevent social collapse on another planet. gerard way wrote the preface. the art is excellent.

nonfiction

queer times, black futures, kara keeling - each chapter looks at an afrofuturist artist/art work to discuss black queer liberation. i read a lot of academic texts, so take this with a grain of salt, but i think keeling is very readable and if you're unfamiliar with the afrofuturist movement, this book provides a great starting point for artists to look into.

scenes of subjection: terror, slavery, and self-making in nineteenth century america, saidiya hartman - i'm not gonna lie to you, this book is dense. but hartman articulates how slavery in america shaped discourse around subjectivity and this discourse lives on. who gets to be recognized as a person, and under what conditions?

go ahead in the rain: notes to a tribe called quest, hanif abdurraqib - this is the Most Readable book in this section. it's part memoir, part music criticism, part archive. short but poetic. hanif is such a generous writer, and you feel his love for the subject. i'm so excited for his book on basketball that comes out next year and i have never seen a basketball game in my life.

poetry

postcolonial love poem, natalie diaz - this book aches like a bruise.

time is a mother, ocean vuong - like critical race theory but as poems. time is a flat circle and a spiral and a loop and a trap. (i actually like night sky with exit wounds better, but this one fits whatever theme i have going on here)

soft science, franny choi - robots are people, too. if you liked janelle monae's album dirty computer, you will like this book.

#ask games #ama #this was really hard and i did not let myself put stephen king on this list lmao #the theme was supposed to be like. what books would intro someone to this blog's vibe but actually. #in hindsight this list is I Like Time Fuckery

[radioactive-reactions]

The Caravaneer's Cookbook [excerpt]

Recipe 12: Trail-Style Chili con Carne

Sometimes you want a meal that aint fancy and aint cultured but by God it will fill you. This is it. The best chili I ever had was made by a tribe feller in Yuma but I dont think hes makin it no more on account of the legion movin in and blastin it half to hell. Its a bad business and Im sorry for it but especially Im sorry for the habaneros down that way cant be bought no more except from them legion traders and I will surely die before I give them one cap.

You will need:

2 handfuls ground meat. Whatever you have on hand but Brahmin is best. If one of your pack animals gives out thats a blessing in disguise because its good eatin.

1 handful beans. Any caravan worth its cow has em.

3 pinches salt. If you aint got any you dont need it but check your closest salt flat before you set down with bland chili.

5 jalapeno peppers. Its a fancy name but its good. Habanero is good but its hard to find. Grind up the seeds to powder and have that too.

Half handful Brahmin fat. Like I said any works but Brahmin works best. I seen fiends make it with human fat but I cant say as that tastes good.

3 tomatos. NCR sells these and they aint good for much but they have tomatos. If you put a tato in my chili I swear by every decent God I will shoot you and leave your body for the raiders.

Half bottle water. Now some say its better to use water for drinkin than cookin but they aint never had this before. Any feller who eats nothin but dry roasted gecko steak aint hardly got a leg to stand on when it comes to badmouthin your hard work anywise.

You want a big pot over your fire. Some folk say that fires aint good and you should use a hot plate instead but you do that and youll be waitin for your chili to cook til the next war. Youre gonna put the brahmin in the pot first on account of it takin longest to cook and let it get brown all by itself with nothin else in there. Then you put the water and the peppers and the beans and the fat there. You want it to get nice and thick so eyeball it and add more fat if its not working. Give it a few minutes and put in your seed powder and your salt and stir the whole thing til its bubblin and the whole camp is crowdin round askin you for some but you don't give no ground to them softbellied freeloaders. When its all ready and you can smell it from Phoenix you eat it right outta the pot and you look some other caravan feller in the eye and you say with a little smile you would of shared some but you aint got no other bowl. Even if that aint true it makes it taste better.

Well thats about how I make it anywise. You add what you like and do it how you want cause I surely aint your master. You just asked is all.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #not reactions #thinking about posting little bits of writing like this when i can't do full reactions. do you guys like that

[wiredaughter]

♡∇♡∇♡

@tropetember #7: historical au

palaeolithic ish ☆ platonic relationship ��� abe sapien & ofc ☆ making friends w the fish man ☆ hyena pet ☆ 825 words ☆ ao3

blue

Blue. So blue I thought he was dying of cold and water when I first saw him, floating along the coastline. I'd readied my blade to spare him the suffering - and maybe make an easy meal after leaving my last tribe two nights ago, when he lashed at me, faster than most dying men could. Most living too. Teeth like a beast's, claws short but rather sharp looking. Oh, how bare I felt then, with my brittle nails and my agreeable teeth.

But I'm still the best lancer I know, and so we tumbled through the wet sand, trying our damnest to kill each other for a good while before I remembered I wasn't necessarily trying to hurt him in the first place. Figured he wouldn't believe or understand me unless I gave him a good reason to. Like putting him down with my weight on his chest knife to his throat, but my knees slid off his skin like wet seaweed, and then it was him holding me down unarmed. I wasn't necessarily trying to hurt him, but called for Hyena. After weeks trying to learn to cohabit with the tribe, she was dubious to hunt like she naturally does, but tackled him off alright. Then I looked down at my legs to see what I'd slipped on, and I understood.

Azure. The liquid was viscose, not water at all. His blood. Not blood, like any I'd seen, but I thought he'd die without it all the same. I called Hyena off, and she put her tail off at me, but obeyed all the same. She's a crossbreed and that's probably the only reason she hasn't killed me. But I'm a crossbreed too, my mother said, so I guess that's why I don't kill her. The idea that he might be a one as well gave me just enough bravado to approach him, letting my spear and axe down, hands raised. He tried to raise on his elbows, before giving up and falling flat on his back. I tried wrapping him on my cloak, thinking I could go for a swim anyway, but he gripped my wrist, asking me to take him to the water. I looked at Hyena, wondering what she made of all this. She looked at me with her dark intelligent eyes, then turn around and digged into the warm sand for a cosy nap spot.

But I lead him to the water. He relaxed at that. The tribe I travelled with four full months ago told stories of animalhumans. Maybe he's a fishman. I took the chance to look for molluscs. Hyena dislikes the fruit which constitutes our remaining food, and I knew I'd have to bribe her to carry this man back to our cave. We both held our ends: at first confused by the shells, she seemed to like them enough once I broke them open.

The fishman was pale and exhausted by the time we made it back, which only made his disappearance by next morning more worrying. Even more unexplainably, he was back when Hyena and I returned from our hunt, cleaning a fish bigger than I'd ever seen. I started a fire, which seemed to amaze him even though he ate his own with bones and all, just like Hyena the deer we took down earlier that day. I offered the fox I'd shot, but he rejected it abjectly. Alright, fishman. After our meal I skinned and salted the fox, carefully taking out the teeth which I fashioned into pendants to thank him for the fish. He was touched, he didn't wear any before, and seeing him wear mine felt like drizzle on a sunny day.

He's travelled with us since, after he retrieved his possessions from a cave I tried to reach with him but couldn't, least I died of water and air. He's got a woven basket with dirt where he says we'll have berries soon, a few blades as long as my thigh, and a pot that shimmers in the moonlight. I have my spear, axe and slingshot and a flute shaped like a snake tongue. At night I play it sometimes and he sings in a voice like I've never heard before. Sometimes he just fills his pot with water and we watch the shapes move inside.

We stay on the ground, close enough to the water. He runs and climbs and swims just like us. Eats, more like Hyena than me, but it's close enough. Last sunset I scored him a moa egg, and he was so delighted he weaved me a hand cover of sorts. He was right about his basket, sort of. There's a blade of grass growing on it, and I don't know it'll give us berries, but Hyena is leading us towards a warmer land, and I'm a good shot and he showed me how to find better molluscs, so I think we'll be fine anyway.

#tropetember #abe sapien #historical au #come get your historical inaccuracies

[thyngland]

The Great Expansion

The smell of sawdust and sea brine filled the air under Amphelitsi's clouded skies, as its docks bustled with life under a new directive - Hundreds of vessels, large and small, being under construction, maintanance, or anchored down from weary journeys ashore.

A giant, square-rigged flat-hulled ship relying only on wind and wheel rested adjacent to the Theatre-Palace in an appropriately sized drydock - the ship of Admiral Venka Skatakis. Venka is the younger sibling of the Amphorean royal family, descending from the same Medouian blood as the rest of them. They chose life on the seas, wishing to conquer riches and suitable Qalos alike, hunting pirates and other lawless wrongdoers.

In the past years, Amphorea has leveraged Thyngland's political instability and regency to diverge its resources into fitting a large fleet of caravels, merchant ships and warships and preparing resources for long journeys and rapid, efficient construction. The region's Archon, Glyko Skatakis, has committed to expanding Thyngland's borders and treasury through forming external colonies seperate from the privilages of the Despotate, composed of prisoners, those driven by ambition to pioneer these new lands and minor nobles seeking power and riches.

Before the war, major reforms swept across the settlements in Amphorea, increasing taxes on oils, salts and iron and tightening laws surrounding land security and areas riddled with theft. This procured many of the goods needed for Thyngland's expansion, satisfied minor nobles and prosecuted the Smethyng populace - many of which were imprisoned in penal districts for minor offenses through necessity or manipulation.

With this influx of profit, the navigators, astrologers, merchants and cartographers were hired to find new routes across the Gnathonean and Thanatai seas to east and west, as well as survey the scarred lands of Exochias - once home to ancient, often mythologised Qalos colonies fallen many centuries ago to the many threats and wars within.

Some of these colonies seem to have been resettled by migrant tribes and remnants or distant cousins of the Qalos. A policy of trade has been introduced to investigate and measure the land's worth, as diplomats and elite retinues are selected to prepare for an eventual landing.

#ostrich project #thyngland #worldbuilding #art

[yzeltia]

The Lost Year

Chapter 5: Caught

Characters: Y'zel Tia, Hien Rijin

Rating: T

Notes: Heavy borrowing from the story of Orpheus and Lot's Wife. [Sort of like the title's titular song~]

Hien wiped his brow as he gazed out onto the steppe from atop one of the higher rocky outcrops that boarded the territory. The quest to find the Ura had taken him and Y'zel into the mountains. He wasn't too versed on the tribe's customs, so he decided to make camp outside their caves in hopes that one of their tradespeople would emerge and stumble upon them. 

The expanse of the Steppe was spread out before him, an endless grassland spreading far into the horizon where it kissed the blue sky above. If this were to remain his forever home, then he felt blessed by the Kami, though it was not enough to alleviate the longing for his homeland. 

“Shun…?”

            Hien smiled softly as he heard his childhood name then paused.

“Shun,” the voice sounded again, 

now breathily against his ear.

          The man's face burned red as he quickly stepped away and covered the breathed on part of his face, finding Y'zel standing on a rock beside him.

         "Where did you hear that name," the prince hissed.

        Y'zel tilted his head, ears wiggling before answering, "Is that not an affectionate name for you? I've heard a few times."

 Hien furrowed his brow then turned his attention back toward the steppe. "A long time ago when I was a boy. I'm a man now."

The Miqo'te hopped from his rock, moving to stare out at the landscape himself. "I don't believe you're much older than I, and yet you insist on calling me 'little cat' when I am neither."

"Relatively speaking, you are little compared to anyone here in Yanxia. I don't believe I need to explain 'cat'."

Y'zel brushed his hand through his hair, letting his tail be pushed around by the untamed wind. "Many Miqo'te would be insulted by that comparison."

"If I've offended you, I apologize. Though, you've had ample time to correct me."

"If it were another, I might have objected," Y'zel mumbled before turning back toward camp.

Hien raised a brow at the other's words, finding the Miqo'te avoiding his gaze. There was a blossoming to Y'zel that had been happening since they'd left the Qalli. A more frequent smile. Joy in their victories. Frustration in failure. And now a coyness he was unsure what to do with. 

"Can I eat now," the samurai asked, following Y'zel.

The Miqo'te flicked his tail as he squatted down beside a large rock. He had placed long strips of Dzo meat across a flat rock and salted it heavily until it dried up. Hien moved to grab up a few pieces, only to have his hand struck by Y'zel's tail. Huffing, he wrapped it around his wrist and gave a tug, causing the Miqo'te to yelp.

"You'll find it unwise to bar me from a meal, little cat," he growled.

"I've no desire to climb up and down these cliffs every day for game. I prepared meat to be preserved. Besides, it'll be extremely chewy. You'll be full up and fatigued after one strip," Y'zel said sternly while trying to free himself.

"There is little else to do other than wait. What would you propose we do instead," Hein asked, taking a single piece of jerky and tearing at it with his teeth as he let go of the Miqo'te.

Y'zel let out a help as he fell onto the ground. Dusting himself off, he turned and looked up to the man, ears flattened.

"Is there something wrong with just enjoying the view and resting? I just lost you for half a bell to pensive gazing at the horizon. I have a book somewhere in my pack. I could maybe read a storytale from Eorzea aloud? Or you could tell me more of Doma?"

Hien chewed for a moment. It indeed took effort to crunch the seasoned bite of meat. Hunting kept his skills sharp when he couldn't test them against the various Xalea he came across who wished to spar with him. But he looked into Y'zel's tired, wide eyes and felt for the first time in a long time that he could take a break.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to take a bit to unwind. As soon as we make contact with the Ura though, we're on our way."

Y'zel smiled, ears fluttering atop of his head. Hien brought his hand over his face, feeling an unnatural warmth to his cheeks. He'd no reason to be embarrassed by the gesture, and yet he felt his stomach twist.

"Is something wrong, Shun?"

That made it worse.

"The meat is just a bit too salty. Just tell me your take," he answered, taking a bite of the jerky to avoid being questioned further as he settled down on their rug.

Pleased, Y'zel joined him, rummaging through his belongings until fishing out the tome in question. Hien put his hand behind his head, working on the light meal as Y'zel started to read.

"Upon an Era long ago, a Tia and greatest bard of the Mole tribe, O'rpheus, fell in love with a beautiful Elezen woman who was said to be the daughter of Nophica herself."

Hien swallowed then looked up to Y'zel, shifting to lay his head in his lap. "That's your goddess of bounty?"

The Miqo'te looked over the book, surprised at the prince's knowledge. 

"Yes, she's the Matron. Goddess of soil and harvest. How did you know?"

"I grew up under Garlean occupation. They taught us a few things they'd picked up from lands they'd invaded. Granted not always painted in the best light."

"I see…," Y'zel mused, swishing his tail about, "Anyroad, the young woman was named Ermidance. Though he never professed his love, anyone with eyes could see that he held a flame for her. Yet so did the Keeper of the Dead, Thal.”

“Isn’t it Nald’thal? The Trader,” Hien interjected while gently grasping the other’s tail with his free hand.

“The traders. Give me a moment and the story will say as such,” the Miqo’te cooed, sitting up right as he felt the electricity of the touch run through him as the man thumbed the tip of his appendage.

"Noting the love O’rpheus had for Ermidance, the God of Life, he made a deal: Should they leave their realm and not look back, then Thal would none be the wiser of their escape; however, if one should look back into the realm of fire, his twin would take back her soul in anger. O’rpheus agreed and awayed with Ermidance, back the way he came. As he stepped through the realms though, he chanced to look upon his love, excited that they’d made it. Yet this was done in haste, for he might have passed through, but she had been a step behind. His love was lost, pulled back into the realm of fire.”

“Thal wanting her beauty for himself, he gave an acolyte a vision to capture her and bring her to Eastern Thanalan where they could perform a ritual to take her to his realm. When this became known, all feared the wrath of the god should they try to stop his plan. And so they turned to O’rpheus, believing that his song and love might be able to soothe the god and have him return her.

“Of course he agreed, valiantly setting off in pursuit. What fiends could not be pacified by his voice, were felled by his arrows. Through the desert and through to the depths of the hell of fire he went until he found his beloved. Hoping to distract Thal with a tune, he played and revealed himself. Love true, the melody roused Nald within the great being. 

“In despair, O’rpheus wandered Thanalan until he found a large rock to rest upon. There he spent day after day in misery, sprawled out under the sun. When the star reached its highest point, he’d rouse, playing a paean to the Warden, in hopes she’d find his beloved in the shared realm and look over her. His song of joy and praise amid his great despair touched Azyema above. O’rpheus’s body did not last long under the harsh environment of the desert. His soul free for the taking, the sun goddess claimed his honest heart and reunited them in the Heaven of Fire to never be separated again.”

Y’zel paused as he finished the story while Hein continued to fiddle with the Miqo’te’s tail. The samurai thought for a moment, eyes closed until feeling the other’s atop his breastplate, rubbing softly. With an involuntary, relishing, groan, he tilted his head back, looking up to the other.

"There is a similar story here on the Steppe. Two lovers from rival tribes wanted to be together; however, found it near impossible to do so without great strife between their families. The Dusk mother, of whom embodies love and war, sent them both a vision to travel into the mountains together. To prove their love, she ordered them to not look back until they reached their destination. 

“And so they ran into the mountains, both leaving their loved ones letters as to why they’d run off. Neither took the news well, and as the couple ascended the mountain, the tribes started to war with one another, bringing both to near ruin. Hearing the battle in the distance, one of the two looked back against the Dusk mother’s orders just as their lover made it to the summit.  For their defiance, she turned them to salt, leaving the other to turn to watch them crumble into nothing.

“They wept and wept, tears flooding the mountain and pulling the salt into the earth. In that they had done as they were told, the Dusk Mother gave them another vision, to confront the remnants of their tribes and unite them. And so they returned and told them what happened. He struck down those who opposed, and took the rest back to the mountains where his love had fallen to find it rich with salt and other minerals coveted by the rest of the Steppe. There they took the name of the lost love as their namesake and abandoned a life of hunting in favour of mining.”

Hien inhaled deeply as he finished, flexing his chest under Y’zel’s touch. The Miqo’te looked back to the mountains, lost in thought until finally saying, “So then, the Ura tribe here?”

“Coincidentally, yes. That’s why I am reluctant to move toward their caves. I think it would be unwise to intrude upon such a sacred space.”

“I suppose, though, do you have a Doman tale for me? That was from the Steppe.”

“That’s the story I had to tell.”

Y’zel lifted his hand then cupped Hien's face, thumb lightly rubbing on the hairs of his chin. The prince’s attention returned to the Miqo’te’s face, finding him drawing down toward his own. Lips a breath away from his own, Y’zel lingered then pulled away while slipping his tail free from the shocked prince’s hand.

“I think I might go sit alone for a moment, if it’s all the same,” the Miqo’te mumbled, slipping out from under the prince.

Hien sat up then reached out to take Y’zel’s wrist. He stared a moment at the delicate pale wrist, then up to its owner who looked down at him somewhere between fear and tears. His hand faltered, letting the Miqo’te slip away with the warm winds. The prince was left yelling for the other, doing his best to gather their things as they started to scatter.

#final fantasy online #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #y'zel tia #hien rijin #hien rijin x wol #the lost year #caught #mxm romance #ura tribe #origin stories

[allaantica]

365 Days of Alla Antica, Day #2

(Note, the above map is still largely a Work in Progress!)

“The Oshaym is a curiosity for those who dwell on its myriad coastlines — that is, a curiosity much like the Sun, the Eye of Aryohl, or any other casual phenomenon. It is at once a place of bounty, bringing up from its depths fish and whale oil, as well as lost treasures from ancient empires, whilst also being a vast sea of stinging salt that harbours countless dangers in the forms of the Uhdinnim and the dreaded Zroh. The Oshaym at once provides and imperils, protects and undermines, defines and defies.”

The Oshaym — meaning "Bone Sea" in the primary trade language, Dabru, spoken across the Nepshe Confederacy — is a vast sea connecting to the outside ocean only via a small channel running through the Gap of Inkyss at its western-most edge. It is named the Bone Sea for the spectral salt-encrusted white towers that occasionally thrust up from its depths, and can be seen in its shallower reaches, the last evidence of a once enormous ancient empire that spanned the salt flats of the Oshaym before it was flooded. Since the explosion of Hror Inkyss millenia ago, those same salt flats have played host to the high-salinity sea, allowing new nations to form along its banks.

The Oshaym is largely under the control of the Protectorate of Kaisor, the chief state of the Nepshe Confederacy, though their rivals in the Protectorate of Azriqor control some of the south-west coast, whilst the Zholik Timocracy and the scattered tribes of the Jugvod-Lumbad control portions of the eastern stretch known as the Mayym. The only free archipelago within the Oshaym, outside of these larger polities, is the Aħ-Ħsari Syndicate, who hold out from their home of Meħbe-set Dujru.

The Oshaym is, quite clearly, the Pyrric take on the Mediterranean Sea, with lots of inspiration drawn from its folkloric elements, especially those taken from my own culture of Ammi Maltese. Tales of Atlantis inspire the Uhdinnim Empire, the Zanclean flood inspired its downfall, and the scattering of the Late Bronze Age Collapse inspired the different peoples around the rim. The entirety of Alla Antica began because I wanted to imagine what the real world would be like if Carthage won the Punic Wars, rather than Rome, and whilst it has gone VERY far from that original inspiration, the first foundations of that were laid in the Oshaym which still exist in the setting today...

#365 Days of Alla Antica #AllaAntica #worldbuilding #ttrpg #dungeons and dragons #dnd #dungeon23

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

Hi omg would you be willing to write canalo/melto w the underwater kiss prompt? specifics r totally up to you but frankly I'm obsessed w canalos weird water telepathy thing that also for some reason appears to extend to others if they're chilling in the water with him. maybe they're investigating something in some body of water and then shenanigans ensue? 😳 Tysm

Anon, I love you, I love this. sweet water

The lake is in the middle of the forest, surrounded on nearly all sides by trees with one narrow, rocky strip of beach near where it lets out into the river. Canalo eyes the water with suspicion. "You're telling me you actually swam in this?"

Melto blinks. "Yes, of course. It's the nearest body of water to...to where the village was. You live under the ocean, why is this weird?"

"Sweet water." Canalo crouches and trails his fingers in the shallows, frowning. "I can't imagine swimming in sweet water. Don't you feel naked without the salt?"

"Not...really? I mean, I do feel naked when I swim here, sure, but just because I'm actually naked, it's not like any of us have swimsuits and it's a private enough spot. Speaking of which, uh, on your left."

Canalo looks up and then immediately shields his eyes, blushing faintly, as Koh charges past, scrambles up a boulder at the end of the beach, and then cannonballs into the water with a loud whoop as Towa howls in protest at the anticipated splash. "I. I see." Then, though, he pauses to stare out at the lake once more, shrugs, and starts undoing his belt. "I suppose I'll have to trust you that this water is safe, it's been too long since the last time I was able to swim. Where should I leave my clothes?"

"Um, there's a spot over here, this flat rock? That's where we've always put them when we came out here." Melto leads him over to it, trying not to watch too closely as he undoes about twenty hooks-and-eyes to take off his jacket. "I don't think any of us have ever seen you with even your jacket off. Hey, Asuna, why aren't you swimming?"

Asuna, stretched out sunning herself at the other end of the flat rock, makes a face. "My stupid...thing is coming up, I forgot about it, I have cramps. Wait, Canalo, do you have a tattoo?"

Canalo frowns, folding up his shirt. "Of course. Don't you? Does the land Ryusoul Tribe not have coming-of-age tattoos?"

“No? We have a little ceremony with wine, Melto and Koh and I had ours together and drank way too much.” Asuna sits up and forward, peering at the twist of inked fishing net circling Canalo's bicep. "That's really beautiful."

The frown transforms into an embarrassed blush. "We, ah. There’s very little liquor under the ocean, it doesn’t stand the pressure well. Tattooing lasts, though, so I suppose so our ancestors thought it would be a good ritual substitute." He shifts uncomfortably, and Melto is fascinated to see that he has at least one other tattoo, the edge of which is just visible above his waistband. "Would you please, ah, please stop staring, I need to take my pants off."

"Right, yeah." Asuna looks away politely, a thoughtful expression coming over her face, and then turns to Banba--seated on a rock nearby, reading a book, apparently uninterested in going in the water--and says, "Hey, Banba, let's go swimming too, take your clothes off. There's a really cute little pool off the main lake I want to show you."

Melto gets his own clothes off and folded, suppressing a smile as he listens to Asuna slowly cajoling Banba into joining her. It's a nice day for swimming. The sun is out, but there are some clouds, and the air is warm and smells like trees. It's been too long since they got to come out here.

Canalo's voice interrupts his daydream. "That boulder is the best place to dive in?"

"Oh, right. Yeah, that's the best spot, the water's pretty deep there. No risk of knocking your head. It gets really deep in the middle, you'll want to be careful if you swim out there."

"I think I'll be fine, thank you."

As Melto slowly wades in from the shore, giving himself time to adjust to the cold bite of the lake, Canalo climbs up the boulder and stares down into the water for a moment. Then he straightens up, takes a deep breath, and dives in head-and-hands first, cutting through the surface and down with all the smooth ease of a professional swimmer.

Koh and Towa let out twin hoots of approval. Asuna applauds politely from the shore; Banba, in the middle of unbuttoning his vest, just nods. Melto, now submerged to the waist, just waits for Canalo to surface.

And...he doesn't. Instead, someone else's feeling of surprise fizzes up through Melto's body, and in his head he hears Canalo's voice saying, "Wait, there's something down here."

Melto jumps. "Canalo, where are you?"

"Under the water, of course. Why are you talking out loud? I mean this seriously, though, there's something strange in this lake, I can feel it...here, I'll surface so you can swim over to me, I need to ask you about this." A beat, and then Canalo pops up out of the water, several meters from where he dove in, and waves to Melto. "Over here."

Startled, Melto swims over to him and treads water at his elbow. "What do you mean, there's something down there?"

"I don't know, I can just feel it in the water. Are there any legends about this lake?"

Melto shrugs as well as he can. "The usual, you know. Generic 'buried treasure.' Pretty vague. We used to try to dive for it, but none of us can hold our breath for long enough to go very deep."

"Mm." Canalo glances down into the water and then says, "All right. Follow me, it's this way." And he starts swimming out towards the center of the lake.

Watching him swim is fascinating. He moves his arms in what Melto thinks of as "the normal way," but instead of kicking his legs he just ripples. He's sort of alarmingly fast, too--Melto, never the strongest swimmer of them, finds himself struggling to keep up.

Canalo's voice comes to him from the water again. "It's right here. Are you ready to dive?"

"Um." Melto pauses, tries to focus on Canalo and think as hard as he can, "sure? If you'd like me to? I'm not a good diver."

"Don't worry about it." Canalo bobs upright for a moment, takes what looks like an impossibly deep breath, and then plunges beneath the water. "I'm an excellent diver."

Melto takes the deepest breath he can and follows Canalo with a desperate, "I don't see how that helps me!"

The water in the lake is really clear, so he can see where Canalo's going, but following is still difficult, because that rippling swim style is apparently twice as fast when he's fully submerged. Melto dives down as far as he can, but he can feel himself running out of air pretty quickly.

"It's this way," Canalo says through the water, "can you still see me?"

"Yes, I can see you, but you're a little far out, and I'm going to have to go up for air soon."

Instead of responding, Canalo pauses in the water and then makes a jackknife turn and swims back towards him. He shies back, alarmed--the effect is sort of like being charged by a horse--but Canalo comes to a stop right before there's an impact. He seems perfectly comfortable, kicking his legs lazily in the water, apparently unbothered by such petty concerns as a lack of oxygen. He looks Melto up and down, nods firmly, and--

--reaches for him, pulling him in and sealing their mouths together.

Melto freezes, very nearly sinking like a stone until he hears Canalo voice in his mind saying, "It's not going to work if you don't open your mouth."

"What are you, what, what--"

His lungs fill with air. He's so startled that he nearly coughs it back out again, which would be a waste. Canalo lets go of him and zips back upward, surfacing for a moment before diving back down again and flashing a thumbs-up as he passes. "You should be all right for a moment while I look, this buried treasure or whatever it is should be somewhere right below us."

Melto stares after him as he zooms down again, down and down until he's barely visible--they're not at the deepest part of the lake, but it's close.

It's only a moment before he's starting to run out of air again, of course, and he starts to say something and is interrupted by Canalo zipping up to him, giving him another dizzying air-filled kiss, and then going up to the surface once more and down again.

"How...how are you doing this."

"I have much greater lung capacity than any land-dweller. And also a third lung that allows me to store excess oxygen. It's a genetic mutation some members of the ocean tribe have. You know, like your hair or Asuna's strength or Koh's being able to listen to Ryusouls." Dart up to Melto, kiss, surface, dive down again in a different spot. "I got lucky. I'm very good at rescue work."

"You have a third lung?"

"Well, it's similar to a lung." Up, kiss, surface, dive. "Oto has the same mutation, it's good luck to have two in the same family. Two or three years ago she rescued a fisherman whose boat had been wrecked by a storm and he tried to propose to her, but she's still too young to get married."

Even with these regular infusions of air, Melto's starting to feel a little faint. "Oh. Oh, ok."

"I just saw something, we should be able to go up in a moment." Up, kiss, surface, dive. "There we are--got it." Up again, and Melto is vaguely disappointed, because he doesn't seem to be going for a kiss this time, but then his arm loops around Melto's waist and they're headed up together.

They surface and Melto takes a long gasp. His chest hurts a bit, and he's definitely chilly, although Canalo is surprisingly warm and that's helping. "Please don't ever do that to me again without warning me first."

Canalo nods. "Of course, my apologies. I might have gotten a bit too excited." He gestures with his chin to the tiny wooden chest he's got tucked under his other arm. "It's not every day that you find this sort of thing."

"What, what is it?"

"If I'm right, a great treasure of the ocean Ryusoul Tribe that's been lost for centuries. I think...I think this box once contained one hundred and fifty years of a man's life, give or take a few years. No one was ever sure of what happened to it after he died."

"I'm sorry, his life?"

"Yes. It's a bit complicated, I can tell you in detail once we're on land again." Canalo pauses, gazing thoughtfully at the water. "You know, I keep thinking about that fisherman proposing to Oto, do you think women on land are likely to find my superior lung capacity attractive?"

Dizzy and distracted by the sight of a droplet of water slowly trickling down Canalo's tattooed bicep, Melto thinks, I can definitely think of a couple of good uses for your superior lung capacity, and then hopes desperately that he didn't transmit that telepathically. All he says out loud, sounding a bit strangled even to himself, is, "Uh, sure, yeah, maybe."

#canalo ryusoulger #melto ryusoulger #fanfiction #anonamouse

[saharacook]

Chocolate nut raw protein bars

OK here's today's line up AND the at-home version.

No LIDL version available, sadly for my wallet. They do have a cocoa orange nakd knock off but I don't like those so there you go.

All are GF but none are soy free.

Clockwise from top right we have:

M&S

80p per 35g bar, 4g protein. Good moisture to bite ratio and strong, rich almost coffee like chocolate taste, with a treacle note that is coming from the raisins in the mix. Density managed via chicory fibre which seems to be the go-to for a lot of things. A slightly more attractive product to look at than the Nakd bar but that is not a high bar. Addition of peanuts and actual chocolate chips makes this much tastier and interesting than the nakd bar it is a copy cat of, but gram for gram it is actually pricier.

TREK PROTEIN

£1 per 45g bar, 7g protein. The answer to "what if we made nutella miserable?" A chonky literal brick of a product with substantial heft and 0 joy. Paler than the M&S version as it has more nuts and no raisins. Peanut flour and chicory fibre make up almost 20% of this and it shows. I have a lot of time for nakd as they were the only vegan treat in town for a while but this thing is a sad dry lump. Eating it is an experience in dutiful chewing and leaves your jaw sore. Honestly you are better off just eating nuts. I pity the hazelnuts in this product.

TRIBE PROTEIN

£1 per 38g bar, 5g protein. The objectively tastiest of them all, basically a layer of soft date paste on a slightly crunchy chocolate flapjack-esque base (probably cold pressed but could be baked not 100% sure) then topped with nuts making it feel like the fanciest. Protein comes from "soya protein crispies" which sounds like a terrible breakfast product. Addition of oats makes it not-like-the-other-ones but it sits in the same taste zone so I included it. Different textures make it interesting and it is my current fave for with afternoon coffee.

THE AT HOME VERSION

Goals here were to keep the chocolate goodness, make it soy free and improve on the cold-pressed bars by making them moist and softer. Getting the hard texture that the packet versions have probably involves a level of dehydration that I have no interest in.

I included oats as chicory fibre isn't particularly available and I needed a dry binding agent. I had jumbo oats in and they needed a bit of crumbling to make them finer but I refuse to keep multiple grades of oat in the house as my flat is small and I am not quite that obsessed.

I added a chopped chocolate and peanut top because it makes the final thing look nicer as well as giving it variety in texture. Initial versions I mixed these in like the M&S bar but I prefer it with them on top.

I didn't bother with hazelnuts and stuck with peanuts but obviously you can substitute.

Final texture is akin to a chocolate brownie - it has that gooey chew.

Makes approx 12 40g bars at 16p each - price will flex depending on how cheap you can get your dates, I am blessed with a large turkish store on the corner.

200g chopped stoned dates (buy cheap ones this is not the time for fancy medjool)

100g peanut butter - I had smooth but crunchy will work

100g GF oats

15g cocoa

Vanilla essence

Pinch salt

15g chopped dark chocolate (LIDL)

15g chopped roasted peanuts (I used salted, YMMV)

* soak dates in boiling water (just enough to cover) for 10 mins, drain and smush dry

* blend dates into a pale creamy paste

* add other ingredients except chopped chocolate and peanuts

* stir well to break up oats

* press firmly into a container, mine was 16cm x 9 cm giving a mix height of 2.5cm

* leave in fridge overnight

* next day cut into 12 bars and press chopped nuts and chocolate on top - first version I topped the big block pre slicing then realised this would only be one edge of the bar so don't do that

#chocolate #vegan #food #snacks #recipes #taste test