#stone circle cider

[upthewitchypunx]

This event was moved to this Saturday! See you in the trees of Estacada!

#wassail #wassailing #stone circle cidery #stone circle cider #estacada oregon #cider

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Rainy Season - Part 5

I Want Crazy

Azriel Eris x Reader

After a promotion to an emissary position by a meddling Tarquin, Y/N and Eris get much, much closer.

A/n: There will likely only be a couple more chapters of this fic. For those of you concerned by the previous chapter, please continue to trust the process. Our girl is intelligent.

Part 4 Part 6

Warnings: Language, brief mention of fertility struggles

Our first date, the seasons changed. It got washed away in a summer rain

He wasn’t what I expected, Eris Vanserra. Not that I ever fathomed what to expect or even considered it. In fact there was only a very short list of things I knew prior to the day we met:

-He was a High Lord.

-He’d been a secretive ally of the Night Court prior to his father’s demise.

-Azriel fucking hated him.

And after that day I knew everything I needed to:

-He was warm beyond the fire in his veins

-He was a just ruler

-He had a dry wit that sat well with my soul.

-I wanted to see him again.

After dancing that night, we ran back to Tarquin’s palace in the rain. It was the first time I’d been unable to contain my joy in far too long. I laughed, and skipped, and spun in circles the whole way back. Eris grumbled the entire way but I could see the amusement lit in his eyes. The next morning he met me for breakfast and found me again before he left for the Autumn Court.

He began finding reasons to visit the Summer Court more frequently and sought me out every time. It was no time before Eris became a close friend.

Tarquin - ever the cheeky, wonderful bastard - only gave me knowing smiles when he’d catch us walking the palace grounds. According to Cresseida, The High Lord of the Summer Court was quite the romantic and had a knack for playing matchmaker. I was inclined to agree considering that after a month of spotting Eris and I around the grounds, Tarquin made a proposition to me. I could still teach my classes but he needed a temporary emissary to the Autumn court as they negotiated border, trade, and tariff agreements. Given my recent closeness with the High Lord of Autumn and overall wonderful (debatable) disposition, he found me to be the perfect candidate. With that, I found myself on official court business in the Autumn Court.

Who cares if you’re all I think about?

I was nervous on the first visit to Autumn. I knew things were different under Eris’ reign but the stories of Beron’s cruelty within his own keep were enough to warrant a bit of caution.

My worries were quickly cast aside when Eris personally escorted me from the border and to his keep. The Autumn Court was stunning. The leaves on the trees were brighter than I’d ever seen. The hues ranging from gold to red absolutely stunning. I’d love to have Feyre one day paint it for me.

Smells of roasting chestnuts, hickory smoke, crisp leaves, apple cider, and autumn air filled my nose. On the way, Eris stopped by a small farm where the owner allowed us to pick what Eris called the finest Honeycrisp apples in all of Prythian. I’d never had that variety before and though I had nothing to compare them against, the apples had the perfect crunch and just the right ratio of tart and sweet. He paid the farmer handsomely for a bucket of them and several pie pumpkins for his kitchens.

The Autumn Keep was far from the drab stone castle that I’d pictured. Eris clearly went to great strides to ensure the ghost of Beron Vanserra had no hold here. The grand rooms were filled with maple accents, rugs and tapestries with hues greens, golds, oranges and reds. Fires roared in massive fireplaces and autumnal spices filled the air.

And despite the beauty of the keep. I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes off of the tall, handsome redhead walking alongside me.

Once I was settled for the stay, we did meet to discuss political matters which took countless hours, but I was rather impressed with the ease of our negotiations. He and Tarquin had similar visions for the economic future within their courts.

We enjoyed dinner together, indulged in autumnal wines, including a hot mulled wine that flushed my cheeks. Or so I told Eris that was the reason for the blush on my features, and certainly not the way way he’d refer to me as “my lady” or “little fox.”

We’d stayed up late, sitting by a bon fire outside beneath the Autumn Skies. There was music and dancing, spiked ciders, and caramel apples. I could see why Eris loves his court.

We, of course, kept respectful distance from eachother as not to spark any gossip of anything more than friendship between he and I. Yet somehow, hours later, we found ourselves in a private courtyard - a small fire burning as we lay back on a blanket together. I began to shiver as the evening chill grew cooler. As I went to bid Eris goodnight and head for the warmth within Castle Walls, he halted me.

“Come here” he spoke. His voice low.

I scooted a bit closer.

“Come closer, little fox. I won’t bite.”

He refrained from adding “unless you ask me to” but that was readable enough in his heavy lidded gaze.

So I laid beside him, my head nestled between his chest and shoulder as his heat warmed my body. I showed him various constellations that I’d learned of during my time in the Night Court and he did a terrible job of visualizing them. He tried though. He told me how he used to wish on shooting stars, how he still found himself occasionally wishing upon them. I teared up when he told me of the wishes he’d made back then for his mother and Lucien, for himself, to one day escape Beron’s cruelty. For a better life. A better Court.

When we saw a shooting star later, he made a wish and told me it was bad luck to tell someone else the wish.

And I, despite everything that had turned upside down in life, found myself struggling to ask for anything more than what I had in that moment.

When we finally said goodnight I realized his own suite was right next to the one he had set me up in.

I woke in a sweat sometime hours before dawn. Pain ripping through my chest. Azriel once again pulling on the fucking bond with no regard for the feelings of despair he was shoving to me. This time was worse than usual, the waves of grief continuing to grow stronger and stronger all the time. It wasn’t fair. I didn’t deserve this. This was a bed of his own making and yet I still had to suffer beyond what I’d already been through. Sleeping through it was futile and the room’s darkness began to suffocate me.

I padded from my room to a common area outside of the suites, sat before the fireplace and worked on breathing through it.

Though I tried my best to remain quiet, Eris apparently had a sharp sense of hearing as he wandered into the room, seating himself on the floor beside me. If I hadn’t been in such a sorry state, perhaps I would have noticed the low slung gray sweatpants and broad muscled chest of the half-naked High Lord- no, friend - beside me.

He took my hand. “Hey, fox, look at me.” I lifted my gaze to his. “You’ve got this. Breathe for me.” I took a shallow breath. “Can you breathe deeper for me, little one?” He placed a hand on my shoulder while the other remained on my hand. I took a deeper breath and let it out slowly.

“Good girl.”

Eris sat with me in silence on a plush couch once my breathing steadied. Still too worked up to fall back asleep, I nestled myself against Eris’ chest while his fingers ran through my hair in soothing, repetitive strokes.

It was hours later that I awoke, finding that I’d fallen asleep on him. I tried shifting away slowly but a sleeping Eris only held his arm around me tighter as I pulled. We slept like that a while longer.

The rest of the trip went by uneventfully. We discussed further trade options and Eris spent the evenings working with me on how to close off the bond to Azriel’s feelings. While I was already excellent at shutting down sending my feelings down the bond, cutting off his feelings was what I needed help with. By the end of the stay I could only feel his emotions slightly.

I expressed my gratitude to Eris who only waived off my thanks. “Anyone would have done it.” Yet he was the only one who tried. What I didn’t tell Eris was that as Azriel’s end of the bond silenced and the depths of my soul went from overflowing to filled with contentment, my thoughts began drifting to happier things, drifted to him.

Front porch and one more kiss. It doesn't make sense to anybody else.

The fifth month after I left, my grandparents held an outdoor feast for our family and friends in celebration of a holiday of one of the lesser Summer gods they worshipped.

It was far from a religious event. There was always wine, dancing, and lively conversation at these celebrations with none of the boring sermons that typically came with such events.

I invited Eris, and to my delight he came. My drunken sister made plenty of comments over how pretty of a pair of “friends” we made, with overemphasis on the word. My sweet, protective nephew took to Eris right away, deciding that after what Azriel put me through, anyone was better than him. He had no tolerance for cheating or sympathy for adulterers from the time he was old enough to understand what it meant and that his father had cheated on my sister during her pregnancy (real stand up guy) though my sister was so far out of his league that he’d have to reach the stars to find someone better. Obviously she’d left him immediately and she and my nephew were better off for it.

My family tried their best and failed miserably to act normal with the High Lord of the Autumn Court in their presence. Fortunately, Eris paid no mind and had won everyone over by the end of the night.

Despite his aversion to the sand, Eris accepted my invitation to camp on the beach so we could enjoy my favorite part of the night, the fireworks shooting off over the bay.

As the finale approached, I pouted.

“I hate when they end.”

Gesturing toward himself, Eris replied. “It’s a good thing you have a High Lord at your disposal to light up the night any time you wish.”

Before I could reprimand him for the crude comment, he began shooting small orbs of fire toward the water in a rainbow of colors.

My eyes sparkled watching the vibrant flares. Soon enough the orbs into butterflies of fire flying through the air, some circling around me. One brushed my cheek and there was no pain, just a gentle flutter.

“That’s… Just wow, that’s incredible, Eris!”

He gave a shrug of nonchalance in return.

“I bet you do that for all the ladies, don’t you?”

Eris looked me in the eyes, something unreadable in them.

“Only the ones I want to kiss.”

A moment passed before I realized that he was entirely serious.

And that I WANTED to kiss him.

So I did.

We kissed under the stars. It was a hard, passionate kiss, our shared breaths riddled with desperation, a profession of the unspoken words between us, “I’ve been waiting for this.”

And when we eventually pulled apart, I looked into his eyes with a smile, genuine, full of adoration, and Eris gently grasped the back of my head, pulling me into another searing kiss.

We shared many more before dawn.

You can’t undo a fall like this.

When Eris returned to the Autumn Court, I tried feeling any remorse for what we’d done. I was technically still a mated female, though I’d left and due to Azriel’s infidelity nobody expected me to honor the bond.

The guilt never came.

Eris had to travel so I wasn’t able to see him for the next couple weeks but we wrote back and forth often through enchanted notes. Curiosity or concern must have gotten the best of him because eventually he asked:

“Do you regret it?”

I knew exactly what he referred to.

“I regret many things, Eris. None of which pertain to you.”

I sent the letter to him with confidence. I did not regret a single thing about the night our lips collided on the beach.

“Thank the Mother, because I need to kiss you again.”

Heat radiated through me at his admission.

But then reality struck. He was the High Lord of the Autumn Court. I was the - separated, yes, but still - the mate of the Night Court’s Spymaster.

“Eris, I love spending time with you and will never regret it. You’ve helped me heal in ways I will never be able to repay you for. But this… how can this work? It’s messy.”

I sent the letter. My own heart crushing at the words. I didn’t want this to end but I couldn’t risk it going further just for reality to come crashing down on us.

Some time passed, the unease in my gut growing when his response appeared.

“If I wanted easy, I’d have married the daughter of some Autumn Lord. Nothing about my past has been easy and despite what some may believe, nothing worth having has come easily to me. Every second spent with you is worth it. Do not, Y/N, doubt that for one single moment. And perhaps this is crazy, but I would not want it any other way.”

It was that moment that I knew I wanted, I needed Eris as more than a friend.

“Then let’s be crazy, Eris Vanserra.”

I don't want "good" and I don't want "good enough"

The thing about immortality is that six months can bring more change than six decades or even centuries.

Six months ago I would have never dreamed that my mate would take the life we’d built over the years and tear it into shreds with those once sacred, beautiful scarred hands that I held reverently. The hands that placed the lovely mating band crafted from one of his own siphons on my finger after he’d made his vows, the hands that lovingly caressed my bare thighs through restless nights until sleep took me, hands that held me pressed to his chest and wiped away the tears of grief after yet another failed fertility cycle.

Those hands that held another and damned it all, the hands that came home and stroked my hair as pretty lies fell from his mouth, the hands that took my glass heart and dropped it.

I especially wouldn’t have dreamed that six months later I would be laying in the bed of the High Lord of the Autumn Court with his strong, warm hands holding me like this heart of mine that he’d forged anew was the most delicate, precious possession in his keep.

I want "can't sleep, can't breathe without your love"

We’d spent the night together making love. The kind of love making that shifts something intrinsic within a person, the type where no matter what happens, a piece of you is forever changed. It was more than just giving my body to him, it was a claiming of the soul.

We lay in bed all morning, his long fingers tracing along the arch of my bare back as he pressed soft kisses along my shoulder and neck. Between kisses, his low voice whispered quiet hopes and dreams for the future.

I was just about to speak those three words that I’d only ever spoken to one other male when a loud knock came on the chamber door.

“For fuck’s sake” Eris muttered before shouting “Come back later!”

“We apologize, High Lord but this is urgent.” a muffled male voice replied through the closed door.

Eris growled, shifting out of bed and throwing on his sweatpants not bothering with a shirt. I enjoyed the view.

“This better be worth my while, lads.” Eris hissed in a tone that conveyed “I’m very fucking inconvenienced right now but understand that you are doing your duty as my sentries.”

“Apologies again, High Lord, but we’ve….”

The male outside the door cleared his throat in attempt to communicate that the matter should be discussed privately.

“It’s fine.” Eris grumbled. “Just get on with it.”

“We, well, High Lord, we’ve apprehended the Shadowsinger. He was making an attempt to infiltrate the keep.”

———————————

@going-through-shit @kalulakunundrum @lisanna2000 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @emryb @one-big-fangirl @historygeekqueen @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @theravenphoenix26 @sidthedollface2 @i-am-infinite @caraaaaugh @evergreenlark @darkbloodsly @piceous21 @anxious-study @chessebookgirl @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @crazylokonugget @mysticalfuncollectorus @starsinyourseyes @b0xerdancer-writes @inloveallthetime @thegirlinshadows101 @viistrength @grunchwench @starryhiraeth @macimads @feiwelinchen @acourtofbatboydreams @nebarious

#sarah j maas #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #eris x reader #azriel x reader #azriel angst #acotar angst #angst #fluff #I want crazy #acotar x hunter hayes #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra #Autumn court #summer court #acotar fluff #eris fluff

[lunavenefica]

⛤How To Celebrate Samhain⛤

Samhain, Celtic New Year, is the passage, threshold, conclusion and beginning.

It is the darkness from which everything begins, the silence from which the first vibration will arise, that initial void that must be in order for birth to take place.

Precious and necessary time. Time of rest and silent listening.

Threshold of this passage, of the limit between life, death and life, Samhain is an open door between the dimensions of time and existence.

The guardian of this threshold is Hecate, an ancient goddess who holds the keys of this Celebration.

Fairies and spirits are especially active on this night.

It is equally one of the many times to honor and host dead ancestors.

Prayers and food are left on the door steps and altar doors are left open and additional chairs are set outside. 

Hearths are clean and home hearths are rekindled by a sacred common bonfire that is lit by rubbing. 

The patron God and Goddess of this festival are the Dagda and the Morrigan.

On this day, spirits and fairy creatures invite mortals to spend a year together on the Hill of Delights with them; the druids act in the opposite direction, writing messages for the dead and entrusting them to the fire. 

With the food and drinks of the afterlife, wine, beer and mead, they feast for the duration of the festival, which takes place from a minimum of 3 days to a maximum of 6 weeks, including meetings, battles, prophecies, spells and ritual sacrifices, in honor of the god of fertility Dagda and his wife Morrighan.

In the Celtic tale "The Wasting Sickness of Cuchulainn", the feast of Samhain is celebrated for a total of 7 days, of which 3 before and 3 after the party night.

To worthily celebrate the full circle of existence we must recognize the reality of death and physical decline as natural events, not as something to be ignored or hidden. 

To these energies we must now pay homage but at the same time we must remember the new life that will come.

The Holly King teaches us that death is an end but also a beginning. 

Let us keep in mind the lesson of the ancient Celts and do not indulge in sadness!

⛤Little things to do for Samhain:

Collect acorns, giving an acorn to friends and family as a wish for good luck.

Toast the local orchard with ale and cider in thanks for a copious harvest. Part of the harvest was left on the trees to ask for a good harvest in the coming years.

Apples were also buried to provide food for the spirits waiting to be reborn.

Before pumpkins were introduced, turnips were carved outside and lit with small candles. They could then be placed on the windows or carried in procession around the neighborhood to ward off diabolical intentions.

Scary stories were told throughout the night until the crowing of the cock drove all the fairies and spirits back into their world.

Stones marked with the owners' names were thrown into the fire and recovered the next morning. The state of the stone indicated the person's luck for the coming year.

But you can also:

Invite your friends to dinner, dress up as witches and ghosts, decorate your homes with Halloween pumpkins and celebrate traditional games by trying to grab the sacred apples hanging from a string or floating in a basin with our mouths of water!

You can have fun carving and digging pumpkins and turnips, inserting candles in them to expose them to the windows or balconies of your homes.

Finally, it is a moment in which in order to favor our regeneration, we can ritually abandon all the things of the past that we must or want to leave, abandon (let die) the things that we do not like in our life. 

We can then write these things on slips of paper to burn them in our Samhain fire, which can also be a black or otherwise dark colored candle.

You can say a phrase three times like: "The so-and-so thing has come into being, the so-and-so thing has its season, and the so-and-so is going away!" Then, the slip of paper is burned in the flame.

We can then, more simply, give away or burn those objects that we no longer like.

It's time to give up bad habits, to change your life! In fact, before the new growth can begin, the soil must be fertilized with the remains of the previous year's crops and with the waste (if there were no death and decomposition there would be no Life).

An undoubtedly more complex ritual, but one that is worth performing, can be performed in our homes. 

At sunset, the eve of Samhain, all the lights in the house go out and you stand in front of a black or dark candle. We hear the old year that is about to die, we remember all the good or bad things that you have experienced, we remember the people dear to you who are no longer there, and when we feel ready we light the candle saying: "I welcome them with this light. spirits of those who left before me. Welcome! ".

 Let's take a cup or a glass full of wine and drink some, after having said: "To the dead!", Leaving a few drops. 

We can then light a special candle for each of your dead friends or relatives: it can also be white or colored candles. 

To light them we use the dark candle, and with the same candle we also light the Halloween pumpkin lanterns, if we have made any.

After doing this we take a plate or a tray where we will have put some bread or sweets (you can use the "sweets of the dead" if there are typical recipes in your area) and we invite invisible friends to share the food with us. 

Always leave a few portions.

Then, taking the dark candle, we go to all the rooms and turn on all the lights, maybe just for a few minutes.

Let's go out the front door and throw a coin: it should be silver but a common coin will do anyway.

We say: "Money on the floor, money under the door" and leave the coin on the floor for a month, perhaps sliding it under the doormat. It will bring good luck to our home.

Let us meditate on the meaning of this holiday and leave the door of the house open to let our invisible friends in!

⛤Isidora ⛤

#samhain #halloween #happy halloween #spooky season #celts #celtic wicca #wicca #paganism #pagan wicca #samhain celebration #spells #witch aesthetic

[cetra]

OC + Random Associations

[Image ID: A banner for my original character named Killian. To the left is a circle containing a portrait of a saint. Extending from the circle towards the right is a painting of gold stardust against a black backdrop. Towards the middle of the banner is the name “Killian” written in a zany typeface. /End ID.]

thank you @perpetuagf for tagging me to do this!! I went with Killian again sorry i know I'm being really annoying about him 😭🧡 and it was so fun.... ugh... we're so back. Tagging anyone who wants to do it + some of the usual suspects who do the OC thing @dekarios @avallachs @camelliagwerm @gwynbleidd @mightymizora @mythrae @sleepsvessel @dragonssxheart @latenna @dekariosgale @euryalex @loveofdetail @nightwardenminthara @stwaidwen @glamfellens @margaritalaux-antille @killerspinal @bladeofavernus @katagawajr @katsigian Sorry if i forgot to tag you I'm so out of the loop on here and i should probably be in bed by now, okay let's go

Animal: Lamb, several birds (doves, geese, kestrels), donkeys

Colors: Gold, black, brown, yellow

Month: in a world with our calendar, probably August

Songs: The Valley by The Oh Hellos, Holy Lands by Bill Miller, White as Snow by Rivers & Robots, Chains by Radical Face, Out of Our Heads by Sheryl Crow, UGH SO MANY GOOD ONES

Number: 2/two

Plants: Lilys, daisies, palms, chrysanthemums

Smells: Burnt wood, parchment, various oils

Gemstone: hmmm I'm not sure actually. something gold

Time of day: Late afternoon going into the evening when the sun casts a golden glow over everything, aka Killian's favorite time to nap

Season: Summer despite being born in Winter

Places: His home village especially on the riverbank and his father's tavern. once he ventured around the land he loved the ocean

Food: Meat, cheese, bread, starchy vegetables, apples, dried fruits, nuts, peppers, olives..... and he has a bit of a sweet tooth

Drinks: hot chocolate, cider, wine

Element: maybe air/wind

Seasonings: Assuming this includes spices and condiments etc. i'm thinking sea salt, cumin, nutmeg, and mustard seed

Sky: the summer sky especially when it's golden hour or like around the time I said he loved to take a nap

Weather: Sunny, warm or temperate

Magical power: Glowing and levitating (Believe it or not despite being probably the most powerful person in my world, he actually uses magic very infrequently lol)

Weapons: Knives/daggers, bow & arrow

Candy: Dried fruit if it counts, candied fruit peels, caramel, honeycomb

Method of long distance travel: Horseback or boat

Artstyle: oil paintings, tapestries, illuminated manuscripts, carved wood and stone, ancient cave drawings, much of my world can be inspired by the Book of Kells if that gives you a good idea

Fear: Failure, absolutely. failure!!!

Mythological creature: maybe a seraphim?

Piece of stationary: Parchment paper

Three Emojis: ☀️🕊️🗡️

Celestial body: yes..... the sun

Thanks for reading about my boy

#killian tag

[stargirl1331]

Very Oddly Specific Vibes of (some of) my mutuals!(mainly if I interact with you a bunch)(I will be adding more this post will get so long)

@hauntedsuns (sunny!)

The smell of strawberry cotton candy, and the color of sunlight through a sun catcher tinted purple, the texture of a popcorn ceiling painted sky blue and the feel of when you are spinning in a flowy skirt and it’s not quite raining because there aren’t many clouds and it’s sunrise so all the clouds are nice colors. Pink and blue mica powder swirling in water, and the sound of pancakes getting made. And just have Aphrodite vibes.

@wyvrens (wyvren<- adopted child)

The crunch of a grape jolly rancher, the smell of air in the kitchen after snickerdoodles are made, a dinosaur shaped penutbutter sandwich. You are the sparks before the match lights, and the stim whre you hold your arms a little away from you and wiggle your wrists. Running fingers over a gecko that’s not quite cold but is cold blooded. The sky right before night in a city where it’s not dark but it is dusty, streetlights reflecting off a green house and Christmas lights up in October.

Izzie-re’pue:)

The minty taste of bubblegum icecube gum, the smell of squishmallows, the soft light when you shine a lamp through a scarf so it doesnt hurt your eyes. You are the stim where you are sitting criss cross and wiggle your shoulders and it turns down to your torso, happy and good. It’s when you see the stars and are sitting on the grass so you wiggle our shoulders and you feel it all the way down your torso, not anxious. Eating moss, but only if it was edible, and getting an obscure tattoo so that you can make up stories for what it means. Shadow puppets on the wall with the light of a phone screen, stirring a chocolate spoon in milk while rain falls in April. You are the smile when the first snow falls and the whole class runs to the windows to look, the quiet of a full house when everyone is sitting together.

@thedoctorandclaraforeverandever (Zoya:))

Firelight shining on stones(like the big blocky ones fireplaces are made of) and apple cider. the little bits of paper that fly up when you burn it, and cinder blocks painted orange. sharp ish thing is tree bark. white oak tree bark. it looks all rough and angry to touch but is actually soft and will fall off the tree easily. Waving to someone as they exit the airport and you meet for the first time, and an arm around your shoulder. The smell of popcorn half way through the movie, and music in headphones.

@wardofwinters (Pauhi Life)

Melted wax on a penny, and sunlight on pavement. leaves blowing through a doorway, scarves on lights, worms digging through the dirt, unseen by everyone. 27 candles burning at once but only 3 have sents and they are all warm smells. pine needles if anything sharp, pokey but actually not. Eye contact and giggling, shushing the other. Trading notes telling you to take care of yourself and staring until they open it. Excessive and unnecessary punctuation, but it’s fun. Bumping shoulders and knocking elbows. Post offices and the taste of envelope glue. Spinning in so many circles and staring at the stars once you fall.

#sunny:D #zoya:) #pauhi life! #wyvern #izzie-re’pue #seeds in the garden #this will be reblogged with more as I add more people #expect in the future: Dante/ Richard/ Tala/ and Aaron! #plus a few more as I think of people #AND FLOWER #can’t edit tags on mobile it’s really annoying #goose and blue #you guys are also on the list

[askmissthunder]

(CW: Religion Talk)

Miss Thunder: Well, the Wheel of the Year spins around again to my favorite season: Fall with the Autumn Equinox! The crisp air, the leaves changing color, and all the seasonal scents and flavors, I love it!

Although I'm gonna share a playlist of some seasonal-inspired music as I always do, I want to take a moment to share some thoughts about where I am in a spiritual sense.

You see, I've been posting these playlists for a while now during the Solstices and Equinoxes. I suppose it was only a matter of time but Cassie asked me recently, "Are you a pagan, Penny?"

And I think my answer is "I think so? Maybe?"

Not that I blame her for asking. All these posts and my extensive New Age/Metaphysical book and music collection would make anyone curious.

I've been raised Christian (Anglican specifically) more-or-less my whole life but my family has never been super religious. We usually only went to church for holidays like Christmas or Easter or for special events like weddings and baptisms.

However, as you know, my family is in a rather peculiar spot when it comes to spiritual matters. Being the physical Avatar of an ancient goddess makes going to church feel rather...off. My Nan confided in me that she also felt that way when she was Miss Thunder and has also slowly drifted away from Christianity over the years, especially as she's been gathering more and more research about the Goddess.

Not that I'm gonna start burning down churches or anything rash like that but...I don't know. It's not like I don't appreciate attending mass while growing up. Even now, if I feel genuinely fearful or frightened, I'll still say the Lord's Prayer to meself to settle my nerves from time to time. But lately, perhaps as I become more attuned to my powers, I honestly feel more spiritually connected, if you will, away from the church and out in the wilderness.

Now that I think of it, even before I received my powers, I've felt more of a connection to the ancient pagan sites of England. I still remember vividly my parents and I went on holiday to Stonehenge when I was in secondary school. I swear, I could've stayed in that circle forever. I just felt so at peace with myself amongst those giant stones, imagining the old Druid rites that must've taken place there. Perhaps even old Merlin himself stood there, gathering strange and mystical powers on a cool Autumn Equinox night.

As I read more and more about Neopagan traditions, (like Wicca, Witchcraft, Shamanism, etc.) there's just something more, I hesitate to use the word "pure" because of negative connotations but something more authentic, I suppose, about these faiths. To me, at least. There's no dogma to obey other than "Don't be an arse", there's no book that somebody with a chip on their shoulder can rewrite for their own agenda. There's just you and the Other, be it a goddess, god, spirit, Fair Folk, Alien, or whatever feels best for you.

And if I'm being honest, I've never felt more alive and spiritually centered than when I'm in the Goddess' domain, be it amongst the old trees at Hamilton Park or on the beach, listening to the waves pound on the shore.

Well, that's enough of my rambling. I apologize for making you read all that but it's been on my mind for a while now and I just felt like I had to get it off my chest. As promised, here are some autumn-inspired tunes for you to enjoy! Curl up with some warm cider and Blessed Be!

#Ask Miss Thunder #Miss Thunder #Autumn Equinox #Mabon #A bit rambly but it feels good to finally talk about this stuff #cw: religion #Loreena McKennitt #Big Country #Dave Brubeck Quartet #Tori Amos #David Bowie #From my personal collection #Autumn #Youtube

[silkendandelion]

Pomegranates, A Stardew Valley fanfiction

Pairing: Lance (SVE) x Farmer (male)

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Farmer Max didn't listen to the wizard's warning and encounters a spell that shows him a version of his life where he married Elliot, instead of Lance. Hurt/Comfort, happy ending.

AN: Spoilers for Lance's 10-heart event and several late game quest lines, references to the outcome of these quests or rewards. Player is an OC with established characteristics, story, mannerisms. It's fine, we have fun anyway.

Rated Teen and Up Audiences for sexually suggestive content, unsafe situations, characters worried about infidelity (No actual cheating). One-shot. Cross-posted to Ao3 here. Send me a DM: yell at me, send flowers. Cheers.

He always saved the best pomegranates for Elliot.

The shiniest fruits of the batch, so heavy with juice they nearly jumped off the branch and redder than wine-stained, kiss-swollen lips. They always got washed separately, scrubbed twice, and packed in a box that had become known as “Elliot’s box” because of the blocky, handwritten label that declared it.

“That time of the year again?” Lance smiled as he set his satchel on the kitchen floor, mindful of the farmhouse’s stone counter-tops ever since they discovered that life elixir is surprisingly acidic. Luckily, the microwave now hides his shame.

“Just in time for his birthday too, since the summer was so cool,” Max said, clicking the crate shut.

“Well, I’m off to the Highlands.” Lance glanced in the fridge while the farmer tugged on his boots. The sticky rice he made the night before was untouched, a cursive note that read ‘goodnight, my love’ still attached to the top.

Poor farmer, he works so hard, he thought. “Actually. There’s not much to do the first week of the season, besides observations. If I only do a half day, I could make it back by say… 8 o’clock? What do you think, love, want to quit early with me?”

His mushy thoughts of hiking up to the bath house and splitting a pot of cider on the couch were dispersed by Max reaching for his coat with a wince. “I’m sorry, honey, probably not. Leah wants to do a brunch thing tomorrow for Elliot’s birthday and I gotta turn in early if I’m gonna finish the chores before I go.”

Lance opened his mouth to point out the flaw in his plan, but settled for a frown as he slung his satchel over his shoulder. “No worries, love, just a thought.”

They parted ways with a kiss, soft and sweet: the farmer’s preferred choice of apology when he knew Lance wasn’t actually looking for one.

“Stay safe up there. And say hi to Marlon for me if you see him,” Max said.

“Of course. Safe travels, farmer,” Lance teased him with a smirk.

He watched Lance leave their homestead and down the road, the smell of freshly-tilled soil washing away the scent of his husband’s soap before he even turned the corner. By the fifth day of the season, the crops were all settled into their neat little rows, the promise of pumpkins already in curly little saplings, and colorful mushrooms peeking up from plush, sleepy grass. The trestles by the fence would have grapes on them soon enough—best to keep an eye out for Petunia then, lest his horse be tempted out of her stall and he find her foundered in her sin.

Elliot loved the fall.

And Max almost slapped himself as he started the rest of his chores.

The wizard had warned him, “you can peruse my library at your leisure, but don’t touch any of the books behind that altar. It’s for your own safety,” and gestured to a menacing golden creature atop a spell circle, the statue’s ruby eyes seeming to follow him around the candlelit room.

It was one book.

A simple spell, just a single, short paragraph among the hundreds of others, found by parting the book to a random number and beginning in the middle of the page. The spell explained itself to have no ingredients, casted only by reading, though Max couldn’t have guessed how literal the instructions were.

“Spirits alive, spirits alike, spirit made flesh. The mind is a shallow cup, cursed to overflow with too many memories, but the soul remembers. Never forget, dear spirit. Recall your journeys, dear spirit… allow us to enter your mind, spirit. And look with us.”

Even Max knew not to speak aloud from spell books, but just reading the words left him breathless, his wheeze condensing in front of his face. He slammed the book shut, quick and careful to replace it on the shelf exactly as it had been found before fleeing back to the warp hall, his fumbling hands yanking at his coat’s zipper.

“Too creepy… Never again,” he said, believing now that Magnus wasn’t exaggerating when he placed the shelf off limits.

But the spell was already cast, brought to life by being read, and Max found himself visited by the most vivid dream he’s ever had—and hasn’t had one like it since.

A farm, what must have been his farmhouse, and an autumn day like today. A striped cat rushed to the kitchen under his feet while the writer hummed at the stove, his ginger hair pulled back to the nape of his neck.

“Good morning! Come eat, darling, I made your favorite.”

He never cared for pancakes but his stomach growled regardless, heart squeezing unbidden when the writer fluttered over to greet him with a milk coffee kiss.

Lance drank his coffee black.

It wasn’t his farm, not his cat, not his husband, so why did it feel so warm?

Why did he wake up missing the rosy lens of that other place? With syrup on his tongue and a pain in his chest for a man he’s never looked at before with anything other than friendship? His heart sank, belly cold as he rolled over to seek the warm back of his sleeping husband, minding the pomegranate hair draped over his pillow.

“Mm—hello,” Lance rumbled with fondness, awoken by the way the farmer squeezed around his middle.

“Go back to sleep, Lance,” he said against his hair. The smell of magic never did manage to wash out, like lightning in a forest. A happy huff was his only reply, though Max would stay awake for the rest of that night, and for days after.

He never should have read from that damn book.

The dream wasn’t anything more than a glimpse. He didn’t know the farmer’s story, who raised him, but he knew why his belly twinged when the writer kissed him. And if this flash of a feeling could haunt his thoughts in broad daylight, he knew he would die if he ever knew the truth about their entire life together, killed gloriously by the knowledge of one single lifetime, out of the thousands this other valley might know.

And he would never recover if Lance knew.

How could he ever say that in another life, some other place just like their valley, he was married to Elliot? And that they were so happy?

He couldn’t, he would rather jump naked into a bath tub of lava slimes than hurt Lance.

Lance, who when he was contemplating giving up farming to be a full-time adventurer declared with that self-assured grin that Max was the only one who could help him with his research.

Lance of the First Slash Clan, seasoned adventurer, who becomes as red as his hair, suddenly shy when Max reminds him that on his first visit to the First Slash Guild Hall, he took off his clothes and suggested they squeeze into the single bed.

The same man who when Max came to him with the insane idea to turn their cellar into a guild hall, didn’t poke holes in his dream or complain about how much the construction would cost, instead swelling with pride to say “My farmer, always thinking of others.”

Lance, whom without the world would have no spring.

Max looked at the crate in his hands, having walked all the way to the beach after his chores, and knocked on Elliot’s door with his boot. What am I doing?

“Max, hello there!” He opened the door with a gasp. “Are those for me?”

“What—yes. Fresh from Haddenfield,” he said reflexively, pulled from his thoughts to follow Elliot inside and put the crate on the piano bench for unpacking.

“Oh, they’re beautiful,” he said, holding one up to the window to admire it’s ruby glitter. “Won’t you let me pay you this time?”

“No no, of course not,” Max waved his hands. “I brought it to you without asking, it’s a gift. Happy birthday.”

“Well, thank you.” Elliot bowed his head, but was struck by a thought. “Wait. This is heavy, too big for Petunia. Did you walk all the way here? Let me make you a cup of tea before you go.”

Max remembered the smell of green tea from his dream, knowing what he would offer even before Elliot opened the metal canister. “I’ve got green tea, do you mind a travel cup?”

This life is enough. No memory, intangible and false, will come between him and his valley.

“I’ve actually gotta get going. Somewhere to be. Thank you, Elliot, and happy birthday!”

“Thank you, Max, please be careful. Say hi to Lance for me!” He called as Max was already marching his way up the beach with a wave. ____ ___ __ _

Good, Marlon didn’t take the boat, he thought as he found the dinghy by the mountain dock, tied and ready. The trek to the Highlands always managed to be twice as long when you were in a hurry, and Max prayed the clouds gathering overhead would hold off on their rain until he made it to the outpost.

A distant crackle of thunder caught Lance’s attention, and he paused his note-taking where he was crouched beside a sleeping mushroom sprite.

“That’s enough for today, I guess,” he said, accidentally startling the creature awake and having to cast a recall spell to avoid its tiny rage.

On the river, Max struggled with the frantic sail of Marlon’s little boat, holding his own against the wind despite the way the waves slapped against its fragile sides.

“I can hear the conversation now—Sorry Marlon, I took your boat out into the storm without your permission but it was all for love! No no, it’s in pieces but I’ll buy you a new one, I promise.” Max yelled to no one as the little boat bobbed and thrashed around the last bend before the dock.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Inside the outpost, Lance closed the line on his emergency phone when no one answered.

“He must be on his way home… oh, I hope he’s all right,” he said, going to pilfer his satchel for supper.

“Oh no,” he groaned, realizing his packed dinner was still in the fridge at home, probably next to the forsaken sticky pudding.

“Crumbs,” he said with a huff. Rain on the stone roof meant it was too late to try to fish, too far to try to go home.

A loud thud came from the direction of the dock, heard clearly even through the heavy wooden door, and the hair on his arms stood up.

Debris from the storm? No, it sounded like a person. Marlon? But why? It could also be a monster.

“The warding should keep them away…” Unless the storm fractured my spell circle.

The lumbering came again, closer now, until both Lance and the mysterious noise stood on opposite sides of the door.

His fingertips sparked with a welling of magic. “Aureus lux—“

The door flew open to crash against the opposite wall. “DAMN it all—”

“Max!” Magic leapt from his hand to scorch across the stone wall, but at least the attack hadn’t landed on his soaked husband, frozen in the doorway.

“Did you just try to zap me?!”

“Of course I did! How am I meant to know you’re the one stomping around like a Golem in the middle of a storm? What are you doing here?” He helped the farmer inside, setting him down at his workbench to begin taking off his boots. His fingers shook on the dripping laces, but not with magic.

“You’re soaked—what were you thinking?! What if the boat crashed, how would I ever even know what happened to you? Drowned, or, or—” Max hushed him with the hand that wasn’t holding his bag.

He pulled him close, uncaring he was likely dampening Lance’s shirt, he needed to feel him before he floated away. “You forgot your dinner.”

Lance blinked at him, watching the farmer open his bag to take out two portions of curry and a bottle of wine. Blue Moon, his favorite. “No hard feelings that it’s not from Haddenfield,” Max said, like every time he gifts it to him with the same cheeky grin.

“Have dinner with me? Maybe?” He tries again when Lance is quiet.

“That was an incredibly foolish thing you did,” Lance finally says, flat, but his eyes are soft when he pulls him into a long kiss. They can hardly tell which one of them deepens the kiss first, lips sliding and tasting of petrichor by the time they part to breathe.

“… So you’re not mad?” Max says, dazed and a little warmer where his jacket collar bows away from his skin.

“Of course I’m angry. But I’m also helplessly in love with you, farmer.” He shakes his head and reaches for the bottle.

“I’ll open the wine if you’d like to change your clothes.”

“You have extra clothes here?”

“No,” he says, flat again, and punctuated by both the pop of the cork and his affectionate smirk.

Well, at least the bed is dry, he thinks as he sits in his underwear. Lance never stayed mad for long, and by the time they finish supper he’s coaxing the farmer under the duvet and into his arms. For body heat, he insists, not because the outpost bed, while bigger than the one at the guild hall, is still a squeeze for two grown men.

“It reminds me of that first night at the First Slash,” Max said, accepting the wine bottle when Lance passed it to him.

“Oh Yoba, hasn’t my heart been through enough tonight?” Lance rubbed his tired eyes, albeit smiling behind his hand.

“Don’t be embarrassed, you were very charming,” Max grinned and passed the last sip back to him.

“How long had we been dating? Not long at all, and I threw myself at you.”

Max grabbed his hand to invite his gaze. “I caught you, didn’t I?”

Lance waited a beat, eyes softening as he squeezed their hands. “Yes, you did. Handsome farmer, I couldn’t help but need to know how you felt.”

“I promise, the fact that you were pressed up against me with your abs out had no influence on my answer.” Lance’s chuckle made his stomach flip, a familiar feeling he wanted to happen over and over for him alone.

He drifted easily into a useless dream about keeping Petunia away from the grapes, deeper than he’s slept in weeks, and wondered if pomegranates would be important in his next life too.

#stardew valley #stardew valley expanded #lance sve #lance stardew valley #lance x reader #lance x player #original character #do player fics count as x reader? #stardew oc #stardew farmer #oc fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #hurt/comfort #pomegranates #x reader #x oc

[lizzie2dyefor]

It starts with an innocuous job, the two of them break into this rich lord's house and steal a magical pendant. They are young and brash but no less skilled.

The plan goes off without a hitch. That isn’t what this story is about.

Now they weave through a busy city. Despite the late hour, some kind of party is still going strong. Someone hands Lizzie a warm glass of cider and passes Ren a wrapped sandwich they pass through.

She doesn’t remember the name of this city, Camia? Cradia? Something like that. It's beautiful whatever it's called, brightly decorated in a wide array of colors.

“Any idea what they're celebrating?” Lizzie sips her cider, it’s quite possibly the best thing she's ever had.

“Maybe harvest? It's the right time of year.”

“Yeah, plus all the fields are empty.”

She downs the last of her drink, leaving the mug on a low stone wall.

“What's the plan for tonight? Sneak into one of the barns? Don’t really want to show our faces at any of the taverns just in case.”

Ren gestures to the woods just outside of town, “Let's just camp in the forest. Probably best if we don't stay in town very long.”

Lizzie nods, “It's a nice night. Moons nearly full anyways.”

The night air is pleasant, crisp but not uncomfortably so. They walk for a while in companionable silence until Ren stops. Focused on something just off the path.

“Did you hear that?”

Lizzie is aware that her hearing is below average. She is also very aware that Ren’s hearing is abnormally good. She does not ‘hear that’. In fact, she doesn't hear anything.

“No? It’s pretty quiet.”

“I heard my name. From the woods.”

They both stand still for a moment, holding their breath. Sure enough, faintly, from deep within the trees a voice calls out.

“Ren!” Whoever it is, they sound heartbroken, voice cracking around the shape of his name.

Before Lizzie can stop him, Ren takes off in the direction of the voice.

Obviously, she follows, the two of them crashing through the forest. Lizzie does her best to stay on his heels but Ren has always been faster than her.

She chases after him for what feels like hours, calling for him to stop. But he runs with a single-minded focus, following the voice that still calls out.

Until he stops so abruptly that she crashes into him.

“Dude, what the hell?” She asks, doubled over and taking heaving breaths.

After a long moment, Ren doesn’t respond. He stands frozen as if in a trance, staring towards a perfect ring of stones.

In that perfect ring of stones stands a woman. Everything about Her hums with power. Her wings remind Lizzie of a dragonfly, flitting and buzzing as She talks.

“Dear Knight. I've missed you so.”

She looks like Lizzie.

She looks like Lizzie, like an awful second-hand collection of her traits. Her eyes are both blue, but darker than hers ever were. Her hair is a pale pink done up in intricate braids, topped with a crown of thorny roses.

The woman holds out a hand, carefully within the circle.

“It's been so long sir Knight. What has kept you?”

Ren takes a step forward as if pulled by some invisible string.

“What are you doing? Stop!” In a panic, Lizzie grabs his hand to pull him back.

In that moment something she doesn’t understand breaks. Pulls taught and shatters with an audible snap. Ren frowns, almost confused. He looks around the clearing then at Lizzie and Not-Lizzie.

“What do you want, foul beast?” Ren spits at the Fey, taking another step back to stand with Lizzie.

“That is no way to speak to your Queen, dear Knight.” She croons at him. Serene smile ruined by sharp teeth.

“I am no knight and I serve no Queen. You deceitful creature.”

Her smile drops suddenly. The air around them seems to stand still.

“If you insist on behaving so beastly, Sir Knight, then so be it.”

The fey waves a dismissive hand towards him, Lizzie feels her hair stand on end, smells iron and sap and ash.

Standing in the place of her best friend is a dog. Calling him a wolf is a stretch, though he is certainly large. Long fur and pointed ears.

Ren shakes his new form, as if settling into new skin. The fey whistles, low and beckoning. He pads over Her, tail tucked between his legs.

Before he can step over the stones, Lizzie finds her voice.

“Wait! I want to make a deal.”

The Queen turns towards her, so fast it jostles her crown. She smiles with Lizzie’s face, it stretches too wide, showing sharp teeth. She’s paid no mind to Lizzie this whole time, wholly focused on Ren.

Now, Her attention presses down on her shoulders like Atlas with the sky.

“Is that so?” She laughs, “The girl wants to make a deal! What could you possibly have to offer me? A name perhaps?”

Lizzie takes a deep breath.

“I offer you one favor. In exchange, you’ll turn my friend back and we both get to leave.”

The Shadow Queen, in this moment Lizzie does not know her title (But she will soon learn) Considers this for a moment. She taps one long, sharp, nail against her chin.

“Just one favor? Oh but he’s been so Rude,” The woman who looks like Lizzie croons, “calling me such cruel things. Do you really see me as beastly?”

“You turned my friend into a dog!” She gestures towards Ren.

“A kindness. He's still alive!” Ren growls from where he's sat just outside Her circle. She growls back so loudly it rattles Lizzie’s bones. He backs down, the Queen turns back to Lizzie.

“You owe me, for being so generous. I only turned one of you into a dog after all.” Not-Lizzie laughs, “In exchange for returning the good Knight to his proper self. You will grant me seven wishes, to be carried out when I so choose.”

“Seven favors and you’ll turn him back. Then we’re free to go.”

She nods, “Do we have a deal, Rose Bud?” The Queen holds out Her hand, Lizzie's hand.

Lizzie takes it.

All at once a splitting pain blooms across her collarbone, she cries out but the Queen doesn't let go. After what feels like hours but was likely only a moment, she looks down.

A collection of flowers claws up toward her neck, settled just under her skin. Seven closed buds sealing her fate.

#[roll credits] #Ren is a Borzoi for the record #Figured id get this out before Gems thing happens later :) #[Double Deal] #interludes

[mask131]

Green spring: Pixies

PIXIES

Category: British folklore

Ah, the pixies… Everybody knows – or rather think they know what a pixie are. They were heavily popularized by modern media. Harry Potter, Artemis Fowl, The Spiderwick Chronicles, Pathfinder…  But by now you probably know the song: the modern image we have of the pixie is not exactly what a pixie really is, and pixie doesn’t just mean “small, tiny fairy with wings”.

Pixies (also known as piskies or pigsies or pizkies or puggsies) are magical supernatural creatures of Southern England, similar in nature to elf, sprites and fairies. In fact, despite being treated as two different species, the legends and stories of pixies overlap with those of fairies in England. Pixies were depicted as small, child-like humanoids with a very mischievous nature. They usually could be spotted at night, when they gathered in huge numbers to either dance through the night or wrestle until dawn. Pixies were believed to live underground, at the location of ancient “pagan” sites: stone circles, dolmens, barrows, menhirs… Pixies are generally good-natured and benevolent entities – they reward humans that care for them or are polite towards them, while they punish those who neglect their shores or are rude ; they are merry folks, who give all sorts of blessings to the people they like… But their mischievous nature also makes them prone to nastier tricks more akin to the fairies: for example, they like leading travelers astray in the night to lose them, they can “infest” houses and farms poltergeist-style, and sometimes they steal children out of their cribs to raise as their own. One of the pixies big obsessions are horses: they adore them, usually steal them at night to ride on their back (just because they adore this), and they tangle their manes in form of ringlets. Pixies also love fine and good clothes: they usually go around either dressed in rags, either naked, but if you offer them good clothes, nice ribbons or fine silk, then they’ll be very happy.

Now, when it comes to pixies, there are two main “regional tradition”. One is from the New Forest region (Dorset, Hampshire…). New Forest pixies are depicted as wizened old men, with pale skin and round ears – there are no females among the pixies. Despite being very small (child-sized), they can use magic to alter their height – they can also use it to change their shape in one of two ways. Either they can become a will-o-the-wisp, either they become a “Colt pixie”. A Colt pixie is the name given to a pixie in the shape of a horse or pony. A scruffy, ragged and pale beast, the Colt pixie’s only preoccupation is to lead travelers and livestock away into the wilds (which is why it was associated with the will-of-the-wisp). Puck (see my post about him) was notably renowned for often taking the same of a Colt pixie. In fact, Puck (also called Pugg, or Tom Puck) was said to be one of the three most famous pixies, alongside Watt (a pixie who offered witches magical powers) and Lazy Laurence (renowned for protecting orchards and guarding cider). New Forest pixies were said to have a king ruling over them – but people disagree as to whether this king is Gran Collin (who was said to be a “giant pixie”, appearing larger than a human being) or his twin brother “Tiddie Cole” (the size of a thumb, so a dwarf pixie).

The big “rivalling” tradition is the one from the Devon regions, where pixies are also a very big thing. Devon pixies’ size range from so small you can’t see them with your bare eyes, to roughly human in stature, but the main difference between them and the New Forest pixies is that, while the New Forest pixies are quite “wild”, the Devon pixies are more “domesticated”. They still are mischievous spirits of the wildlands – they like to ride on the Dartmoor colts at night, they gather to dance and make music, they use magic to mislead travelers through the moors (this is a spell called “being pixy-led” and the only way to break it is to put your coat inside-out), and they are also said to lure children into playing with them by disguising themselves as a simple, inoffensive bundle of rags… But unlike the New Forest pixies, the Devon pixies can select friendly humans or ones in need (poor humans or widows for example) and decide to help them, usually by doing their house-chores. Similarly pixies can be “paid” for their chores, or be attracted to a house, or strike a friendship with a human, in exchange of offerings of clothes, food, or milk (the favorite beverage of all the fair folk of England).

Beyond these two main regional traditions, there are other smaller local ones. For example in Cornwall, the pixies are said to be ruled by a queen: the famous Cornish figure of Joan the Wad. “Wad” was a morn meaning “torch”, and this was because she was a type of “will-o-the-wisp” spirit, said to be married to none other than Jack-o-Lantern, another famous “light in the night” spirit. However unlike the will-of-the-wisps that usually lead people astray, Joan the Wad was much more benevolent: she guided lost people on the moors when the weather was bad, and she brought good luck to all those she encountered (even though she was also sometimes said to tickle people until they go mad…). Joan the Wad connection to good luck was so strong that, for a long time, people of Cornwall wore on their person little figures of Joan the Wad as good-luck talismans, or depicted her face on doorknobs to protect the house from evil spirits. Another local tradition comes from Somerset, where pixies and fairies were said to have been enemies – they waged a great battle against each other at Buckland St. Mary. They fairies lost and fled the area forever, but the pixies won and this is why they still hang out near the village.

One particular celebration deserves to be noted: an East Devon holiday, called “Pixie Day”, on the Saturday nearest to Midsummer. Starting in 1954 and localized in the town of Ottery St. Mary, it is actually a yearly celebration of an old legend tied to the town’s church bells. According to the legend, in the times where Christianity was still fresh and new in England, a bishop decided to build a church in the town of Otteri – he had magnificent, beautiful iron bells prepared in Wales and asked monks to make an escort to bring them to the town, out of fear they would be damaged in any way. The pixies however ruled the lands of Otteri, and knew that if these bells ever rung, they would lose their power over the region, so they cast a spell on the monks carrying the bells, changing their road so they would walk towards the cliffs of Sidmouth instead of towards Otteri. However, as the monks were about to throw themselves into the sea, one of them stubbed his toe on a rock. As it was the custom back then, he invoked the name of God (though in a much more polite form than today’s “God damnit!”), and this broke the spell of the pixies. The bells were brought to Otteri, but the pixies were not ready to give up. They stole away the bell-ringer of the church, and imprisoned him in a riverside cave where they dwell, called the “Pixies’ Parlour”. The vicar of the town had to go and rescue the poor stolen victim – and it is this battle that the town celebrates yearly. Each year on Pixie Day, boys and girls (from Cub Scouts and Brownies Girl Guides) dress up as pixies and steal away the bell-ringers of the church of Saint Mary – they don’t bring them to the actual Pixies Parlour cave, but rather to another church near Caanan park, and there a theatrical re-enactment of the vicar banishing the pixies happen.

- - - - - - -

The thing with the Pixies is that, just like with the fairies, there was a clear divide between their original depiction (as described above) and their “Victorian self”, built out of the works of artists and poets of the Victorian era. At this point, the pixies gained their most famous “sprite” attributes. People began depicting them as very, very small, finger-sized smalls, with pointy ears, and they also gave them green outfits and green pointy caps. Pixies began to be treated as entirely positive and wonderful little folks – curing all illnesses, blessing marriages to be fertile, helping win the heart of the one you love, able to “walk upon water and sail upon the land”, being friends with the wild animals and loving humans with all their heart… Pixies began to be depicted as ageless, deathless beings eternally young and happy, unable to feel sadness or fear – though some of the slightly creepier elements of their old “folkloric” self still stayed – for example the fact that if sometimes they marry a human, it is not so much out of love than out of the desire to “stealing their soul” (there is a whole thing about fairy folks not having souls and wishing to gain one), to how the pixies are actually “not bless nor banned”, aka not belonging to either Heaven or Hell, in-between, neutral spirits neither angels nor demons. It is also around the Victorian times that there was once again much debate and confusion as to whether pixies were different from fairies, or rather were the same thing.

[But as you will note so far, there is nothing about pixies having wings or flying – this is an invention of modern-day fiction.]

A very fun fact: you know about the famous story “The Three Little Pigs”? Well, its oldest recorded version comes from the Devon, and doesn’t show three “little pigs”… But three “little pixies”. And the villain isn’t a wolf, but a fox. It is thought that the confusion from “pixies” to “pigs” is due to one of the alternate ways to write the name of the small magical folk, which is “pigsies” and sounds a lot like “pigs” in plural.

#green spring #pixies #pixie #british folklore

[ultimate-heartache]

No Matter the Cost - Chapter 5: In the Hall of the Mountain King

The long, long, long awaited update is here. I’m running around in circles rn. - - - Fandom: Danganronpa  Relationship(s): Shuichi Saihara/Kokichi Oma Rating: M Warnings: N/A Chapter Length: 9,180 words - - - Excerpt:  - - - Detective Saihara swirled the contents of his glass around in his hand gently, translucent liquid traveling up the sides, just shy of spilling over. He watched the fizzing whirlpool converge in the center and then settle down again; a pleasant buttercup yellow at its core. The drink might have easily been seen as champagne to the untrained eye, but in actuality, it was only sparkling cider. Despite the formal occasion, Shuichi wouldn’t be drinking tonight. He needed his wits about him. The concert hall was beautiful, and the detective took his time observing every fine detail of it. It boasted a grand stage, with red velvet curtains draped across the apron. The regal stone pillars of the proscenium arch were carved with intricate designs and embellishments. The high ceiling was graced with a hand-painted mural that stretched across the venue like a mosaic, a snapshot of the heavens; and in the center of it, a magnificent glass chandelier, holding all the stars of the universe captive in its golden arms only to light this very opera. - - - Link

#saiouma #phantom thief #phantom thief au #phantom thief saiouma #shuichi #shuichi saihara #kokichi #kokichi oma #danganronpa #drv3 #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #my fics

[bobparkhurst]

festive ficlets: dec 24

Prompts from @almost-a-class-act - and we've reached the last one! Huge thanks for this super fun set of prompts, and also for how they've intro'd me into the BoB fandom. It's been a very fun month! <3

Pairing: Ron Speirs x Carwood Lipton [modern au]

Prompt: Person A thinks Christmas eve proposals are cheesy but love is in the air and they decide to spontaneously go for it. Meanwhile, Person B thinks Christmas Eve proposals are lovely so they also propose at the same moment.

“Would you like to get married?” 

Ron’s question is quick, sudden, and even for him, a pretty impressive non-sequitur. They’re sitting on a bench by the river, it’s early evening on the London South Bank, and the theatre crowds have just begun to make their way in, leaving the paths if not empty, a little less crowded than they had been before. The Christmas lights twinkle between the streetlamps and the trees, strung like stars between the small chalets of the winter market he had insisted, against Ron’s protestations about crowds and costs and children, on visiting. Lip blinks, and for the moment, doesn’t respond.

The market had been an unmissable festive highlight, according to the website he’d checked that morning from the hotel, but when they’d shown up, they’d mostly found overpriced sweets, knitted hats and a radiating smugness from the man at his side, who almost vibrated with the desire to say I told you so. Still, between Ron locating the lobster rolls and his own scouting of the mulled cider, their spirits had lightened considerably, higher perhaps than even their pockets had at the few treats they had bought from the over-cheerful British stall owners. They’d weaved between crowds of tourists and theatregoers, letting the chatter wash over them like the small splashing shoreline of the tidal beach they walked alongside. He’d had to admit, as immediately tired of the crowds as they had both been, there had also been something rather magical about walking through, arm in arm with the man he loved. He’d been pretty sure, from the way Ron’s thumb rubbed circles over his elbow, that he had not been immune to the effect either. 

They’d sat to eat on a low stone bench, far enough away from the main thoroughfare that no people, dogs, bicycles came too close; only the pigeons remained circling ever closer, evidently unperturbed even by Ron’s growl, or Lip’s kicking foot. As the evening had darkened around them, it had served only to heighten the otherworldly atmosphere; the lines of Ron’s face softened in the faux candlelight, his eyes glittered like the reflections on the water. Even the lowering temperature hadn’t dampened the warmth that seemed to emanate around them both, holding them close, as if they had been captured together long ago in some snow-covered scene. Lip had been reminded then of their first date, had made a comment to that effect, which Ron, tearing a piece of brioche to bits in his fingers, had at first seemed to ignore entirely, before he had come out with the question which appeared to startle them both.

“What?” Lip says. Ron stares out over the water, jaw twitching. It’s another long beat before he looks sidelong at him.

“Would you like to get married?” he says again. This time, he meets Lip’s eyes to ask it. There’s a faint red stain on his cheeks, and if he had had the wherewithal at that moment, he might have felt a twinge of gratification at still being able to elicit a blush on the face of the man he had been living with for the past three years. Instead, all he can do is drop the remnants of his meal on the ground for an excited pigeon and bark out a laugh which he instantly regrets as the shutters go up behind Ron’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says, reaching for Ron’s hand, forgetting for a moment there’s a half-eaten lobster roll in it. There’s a brief pause as he pushes the sandwich onto the bench, wipes his fingers on the inside of his sleeve. “You took me by surprise. It's ok. That's all."

Ron’s still, too still, but his pulse is fast beneath his fingertips, where Lip presses gentle-soft and soothing. “I don’t have a ring,” he says, quiet and low. With his free hand he makes a small gesture at the darkened sky, the warm, glowing lights. A small, shy smile plays on his lips. “It’s a beautiful night. You look beautiful.”

“So you thought you’d ask now?”

Ron looks a little abashed. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he admits. “I just hadn’t figured out how.”

Lip laughs again, but gentler this time, and holds fast to Ron’s wrist so he can’t pull away. He leans in to press a kiss against the other man’s lips, and rests his forehead against Ron’s when he breaks away.

“I’ve been thinking about it too,” he says. He moves away, dropping Ron’s wrist and reaching deep into the pocket of his coat. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Ron track the movement with a slight frown. He wishes he could record the dawning moment of understanding on his face when Lip retrieves the small black box from his coat pocket.

“I had a speech, Ron,” he says. “I had a plan.”

It’s Ron who laughs now, as he takes the box, flips it open to reveal the small gold band. It isn’t fancy, nor large, and is only as expensive as Lip could afford between this luxury of a holiday and their careful saving for their own home, but Ron is looking at it like it’s the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his life.

“You always do,” he says. He grins up at Lip, and presses a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “So. You would like to get married then?”

“Put the damn ring on,” Lip says.

#FLUFF #WE END WITH FLUFF #HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR #band of brothers #bob: festive ficlets #carwood lipton #ronald speirs #speirton

[upthewitchypunx]

Hey Portland area folks, wanna go wassailing?

#wassail #wassailing #sing to the trees #drink cider #folk magic #folk traditions #cider #stone circle cidery

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, 52: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A silver compass with a phrase inscribed on the cover which reads “Never Lost Then Never Found”.

A broken bell that rings with the sound of lost love.

A one-gallon keg painted bright green, with red lettering spelling out the name “Mountain Dew” along the side. The cask is filled with a hard Dwarven vodka with a hint of lime and honeydew.

A three-inch oval of glossy obsidian stone worn smooth by countless years of wear. Inset into its surface are potent necromantic sigils, lined with frost. The stone itself is cold to the touch and unusually heavy for its size.

A foot-long, egg-shaped object made from stitched leather. If thrown properly, the item will spiral during flight, greatly increases its range and accuracy.

A stone statuette of some forgotten deity that produces a low rumbling chant in an unknown tongue when struck by moonlight.

An animated map of an unknown city that appears to be tracking the movements of five specific creatures within the city limits.

A finely made key carved from a single piece of milky-white ivory. It has an ornate filigree handle and traces of a red substance on the handle. PC’s proficient in calligraphy can determine that the scarlet material looks like archival ink as used by the clerics in the local temples.

An obsidian bust of a devilishly handsome, horned archfiend.

An interlocking wooden map made of nine concentric circles that can be rotated around the page like some sort of puzzle.

—Click Here to be directed to the Hotlinks To All Tables post, which provides (As you might have guessed) convenient links to all of the loot and resource tables this blog has.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A silver compass with a phrase inscribed on the cover which reads “Never Lost Then Never Found”.

A broken bell that rings with the sound of lost love.

A one-gallon keg painted bright green, with red lettering spelling out the name “Mountain Dew” along the side. The cask is filled with a hard Dwarven vodka with a hint of lime and honeydew.

A three-inch oval of glossy obsidian stone worn smooth by countless years of wear. Inset into its surface are potent necromantic sigils, lined with frost. The stone itself is cold to the touch and unusually heavy for its size.

A foot-long, egg-shaped object made from stitched leather. If thrown properly, the item will spiral during flight, greatly increases its range and accuracy.

A stone statuette of some forgotten deity that produces a low rumbling chant in an unknown tongue when struck by moonlight.

An animated map of an unknown city that appears to be tracking the movements of five specific creatures within the city limits.

A finely made key carved from a single piece of milky-white ivory. It has an ornate filigree handle and traces of a red substance on the handle. PC’s proficient in calligraphy can determine that the scarlet material looks like archival ink as used by the clerics in the local temples.

An obsidian bust of a devilishly handsome, horned archfiend.

An interlocking wooden map made of nine concentric circles that can be rotated around the page like some sort of puzzle.

A huge scorpion's barb engraved with a single letter in the Random Humanoid Race tongue.

A pair of scrimshaw cufflinks with an image of a fisherman on a boat engraved on them.

A plain-woven wool travel blanket (6ft x 6ft) with an embroidered edging of leaves and vines.

A sealed, one-gallon cask filled with an alcoholic drink known as “Cray's Crazy Cider of Creation”. It tastes of thin rolled oats with skinned golden apples and might be the thickest beverage the drinker has ever had the pleasure of consuming. Upon imbibing, the drinker of Cray’s Crazy Cider of Creation feels calm, a soothing wave caresses their body but they can feel the strange brew changing inside them. 1d6 hours after consuming enough of the cider, the drinker will feel sick and harmlessly regurgitate a Random Trinket. There is enough liquid in the keg for eight creatures to drink enough of it to be magically affected by it.

A fine wooden comb with the name of a noble family carved into it.

A thin quiver for light-weight travel that can hold up to hold up to five arrows. It has leather straps to easily attach to arms, legs or thighs, as well as across the back or waist.

A glossy black stone, with a complex sigil on its surface. It is cold to the touch and anyone who holds it experiences a sense of melancholy.

A wired together skeleton of a small bird with humanoid hands where its wings should be.

A tiny silver butter knife etched with ivy patterns.

A child’s drawing of a house on a hill, with a smiling sun in the sky.

A lacquered oak leaf on a leather strap that can be worn as an eye patch.

The last page of an unknown diary containing only the words “close the door” written in what appears to be blood.

A tear stained love letter written by an an elf, breaking things off with their human lover.

A soap carving of a beautiful Random Humanoid woman.

A bracelet made of three intertwined leather strands with a silver crescent disc in the center. The bearer is always aware of when the moon will rise and fall.

A bronze death mask of a young, noble-looking woman.

A pouch made from the skin of a platinum-furred fox. The pouch's top flap is the beast's head, its tail dangles from the base, and the whole is trimmed with white woolen tassels.

A chess set of onyx and alabaster inset with garnet and paraiba. The black queen is a unicorn and the white queen is a wyvern.

An elaborate dress saddle, made of black and golden leather tooled with linked triskelions and trimmed with golden bells.

A polished ram's horn stoppered with a pewter lid and filled with powdered glass.

A clay jar that contains a brownish-green liquid with the viscosity of syrup. When applied to the bare skin, flesh takes on a thick and warty quality, darkening slightly, and giving off a cinnamon aroma for a few hours.

A carved and crafted armband made from the horn of the shovel horn rhino that dwells in the Hinterlands.

A grisly fetish consisting of the head of a winter wolf. It is meant to be worn as a mask.

A cloak pin shaped like a falcon in flight on a field of gold.

A large metal carafe, engraved with depictions of the peace ceremony it was meant to commemorate. Knowledgeable PC's know that a set of these flagons were crafted in Solanos Mor to commemorate the one-hundredth anniversary of peace between the Solani and Encali dwarves. Since that time, replicas of the original have become a common gift of truce between nations and different factions.

A ram’s horn scrimshawed with images of menageries and gardens. The inside rim of the device is scribed with benedictions to the Goddess of Fertility, asking for the blessing of her bounty.

An ivory pipe capped at either end with grimy bronze fittings. When smoking from this pipe, the grey smoke tendrils form macabre shapes of menacing spirits.

A palm sized, scintillating disk of unknown material.

A wooden chess piece shaped like a dancing satyr wearing a bishop's hat and clutching a gnarled staff.

A thin bottle labelled “Whiskerburp Vodka” that features a drawing of what only could be wispy long whiskers of some unknown animal on it. Bubbly as it could possibly be, the liquor colors the drinker’s sense of taste with a light orchid flavor hinted with clovers. The vodka fizzes up an obscene amount when swallowed. Every shot taken causes the drinker to burp grotesquely, and quite generously, for 30 to 40 seconds. Knowledgeable PC’s are aware that it is a local favorite in the City of Jestero.

A ball-and-cup toy that plays a short, victorious jingle whenever the ball lands in the cup.

A bone coin with a smiling satyr's face on one side and a satyr's skull on the other.

A bracelet made of bird skulls that occasionally caws when not worn.

An ivory bracelet depicting a tribal warrior.

A knot of petrified wood wrapped around a stone that hovers when released.

A mummified Random Humanoid heart that was clearly ripped not cut, from its owner's body.

An aged, yellow parchment covered with sharp, angular runes. Written on this scroll is an arcane spell of Summon Familiar.

A small glass jar that to most, merely looks as if it contains colored sand. A particularly perceptive observer however will see the sand shift, forming itself into a dazzling, miniature vista of a woodland glade.

A marionette, belonging and possessed by a young girl who took a fatal misstep.

A battle wand made from the shattered hilt and jawbone of a defeated hobgoblin warband leader.

A majority of a length of horn, originating from a fiend. Almost imperceptible runes are engraved on the jagged bottom part where it broke off the demon’s head.

A pick-ax with a false bottom at the end of the haft that opens to reveal an old map of a cave system with an “X” marking a remote part of the depths with the words “MINE HERE!” written next to it.

A hard leather case that contains an incense maker’s toolkit. This includes a metal press for forming incense cones, a mortar and pestle, a mixing pan, dozens of bamboo splints for joss sticks, containers of sawdust and coal dust for binding and a half dozen small vial of aromatic oils and fragrant powders.  

A rusted, iron incense holder that still smells of pungent herbs.

A pair of pressed flowers, perfectly preserved between a set of smudged journal pages.

A drinking cup with painted fish designs on the inside.

A wooden toy of a cameldrake with carved-on riding tackle.

A petrified wasp's nest, wrapped in fabric like a swaddled baby.

A wolf-like skull with a pair of antlers. The bone is a deep, unnatural grey.

A palm-sized cauldron that continuously emits harmless, white smoke.

A heavy, stone key overgrown with moss. One of the teeth is chipped off.

A leather wallet stamped with the image of a kiln being fired. It contains a full set of certified identification papers denoting that the bearer is a member of the potters and tile-makers guild. The section containing the member's physical description (Height, weight, sex, race, eye, skin and hair color) is completely blank and could be filled in by anyone with half decent handwriting.

A portable metal cooking fire grill perfect for camping.

A dog collar made of the finest leather.

A fist-sized lump of moss that seems to be breathing.

A lollipop that seems to contain a strange ethereal light within.

A one-gallon cask filled with a stout ale known as Luiren's Best. Brewed in Luiren by the Smokardin clan, the heavy beer is jet-black with a thick consistency and a sweet aftertaste.

An onyx charm in the shape of a leopard seal on a leather thong.

A wolf skull lantern that sings a haunting tune every dusk.

An ivory set of leatherworking tools that are particularly well suited to working with blubbery animals such as seals, walruses and whales.

A stuffed cuddly doll of an owlbear.

An extremely detailed page detailing the design of a complex puzzle box. This appears to be only one of several pages within a complete set. Haphazardly scrawled across the design, and partly obscuring the document, is the words: "We were wrong. BE CAUTIOUS".

A single crystal slipper that will fit anyone who tries it on.

A pair of furry balls linked by a silk cord. They relax the bearer slightly when squeezed.

A silver locket that shows the portrait of the person the bearer has the strongest feelings for in the world.

A glass sculpture of a serpent eating a sun.

A tarnished chalice engraved with a prayer asking for the blessings of Random Godly Domain.

A partly melted holy symbol depicting a sun.

A tiny steel anvil. When heated up it displays a love ballad.

A crude map of the local area inscribed on a tattered canvas scroll, that bears an “X” marking an area near where the map was found. There is a list of instructions in the bottom corner of the map: Find the road marker leading south, then go south for 3-4 miles until you find the beach strewn with black seashells. From there, go east for 2-3 miles, until you find the crossroads, then go north-east for 1-2 miles and you'll find the reserve protected by magical wards. ---Note: It is up to the DM whether or not if the instructions can be followed (The “landmarks” might be a code, riddle or simply not exist for example) and if there is anything at the end. The map could easily be a prank, trap, confidence scheme, ambush or the area could already have been stripped of any value by other adventurers.

A bronze coin which lands moon side face up at night and sun side face up in the day.

A leaf that burns up each dusk and regrows every dawn.

A crystal bracelet that shows six different animal faces, changing depending on the mood of the bearer.

A fine tricorn hat. It gives nightmares of its previous owner's demise.

A weightless scabbard decorated with blue and white swirls.

A bronze egg with golden swirls.

A wooden puzzle that depicts a flying copper dragon.

A small wooden sculpture of a sapling.

A clear glass bottle, filled with liquid, sealed with wax and labeled “Carnal, 8:69 Blessed”. It contains an Orlesian liqueur for the daring, or those who wish to seem so. Said to enhance sensation. And at the bottom, an erotically carved peach pit. The design is plain, but the bottler assures that the act of carving was scandalous.

A butterfly’s cocoon contained in a perfect glass box.

A locket covered in burn marks, containing the picture of a Random Humanoid family inside.

A sealed five gallon barrel filled with milled flour of impressive quality.

A tin box with a small, eternally lit ember inside.

A cold-iron nail twisted into the shape of a holy symbol of Random Godly Domain.

A brass pocket watch whose hands won’t stop spinning wildly.

A curiously made coin of magically toughened glass, stamped with obscure ritual imagery and filled with quicksilver, without seams or air bubbles. They are about 20% larger than the size of a standard gold coin, but five times thicker and weighing 5 times as much as a single coin (10 per pound). To a numismatist collector it may be worth anywhere from 30 to 150gp. A PC proficient with alchemist’s tools can determine that it contains 30gp worth of mercury.

A nose to chin mask, which forces the wearer to talk in whispers.

A carved mahogany cigar box.

A pair of large balloon leg pantaloons made of blue velvet and sewn with tiny pearls depicting flamingos in flagrante delicto.

A large, collectible tin container full of antique boiled sweets now prized for their rarity and aged flavor. The flavors are fruit, herb, spice, meat, bone, and blood.

[sleepyowlwrites]

find the word tag CCCXXI

a bit upset because instead of sleeping during the day yesterday, I just was awake until 9pm, and then slept VERY WELL in 4 hour bursts until 6am today, but that means that I'll have to work to convince myself to get any sleep before the overnight tonight. I also don't know if I need to be awake at a certain time for my grandma to come home. eep. @zmwrites @diphthongsfordays

heat (the sleepy stash, 2020)

"And if I don't come back?" Era whispered.

"I'll remember." She gripped Era's hand harder. "And you will live. Because you'll be alive."

Era realized what she was doing but fought back a second too late. Her body was shoved backward and the heat of the gate surrounded her.

"I'll remember, so just live!"

She heard Lin's voice as though underwater, the mists sinking through Era's skin and filling up her lungs and suffocating her and-

Sunlight hit her eyelids and she opened them to see a blue sky.

hand (apocalypse story)

Ty lifts Ben’s chin with his own slender fingers. His eyes are still steel but Ben feels less afraid. He doesn’t know what he was scared of to begin with. His shoulders are shaking, shivering. Ty slides his thumb over Ben’s jaw a couple of times, the movement incredibly gentle. Ben hasn’t known Ty that long, and he barely know anything about him, but he knows that Ty Carrow is all the things he wishes he could be: strong, resilient, quick-witted and closed off. A protector instead of someone who needs protecting.

Ben believes that Ty could tear open the world if he set his mind to it. Ty - the idea - is terrifying. But here is Ty - the person - crouched before him, one hand tracing circles on Ben’s skin with callused fingers, and Ben is not afraid.

hesitate (dirt in the doing)

“I am very capable of taking care of myself,” Rune finally says, staring at her cider instead of any of her audience. “It’s been two years and Max hasn’t been able to catch me. And if he did, it doesn’t matter.”

She shuts her eyes for a moment before locking eyes with Jet. “I know what to do. I won’t hesitate. I’ll hurt him before he can hurt me.”

hold (dirt in the doing)

“What did happen, though?” Yarrow asks, knocking his head against Shadow’s when he leans forward like he’s about to hear a secret.

“I startled someone,” Rune says flatly, stuffing her mouth with food.

Jet glances around to see that the gang is still waiting for her to swallow and finish this story like it’s much more thrilling than it is. Or maybe they just like having Rune’s attention. She is never afraid to give it, to make her listener feel special, like they are much more important that anything else she has going on. Jet tries to to be affected by this aura.

“And they reacted in such a way that the fingers on my right hand got bent backward.” Rune holds out her right hand and traces over the back of it with her other index finger. "I felt something in here, and I could barely move them and couldn’t hold any weight with them. I taped two of them together and tried to manage the best I could.”

rough (beating hearts, 2021)

“Careful,” Pangzi says, teasing again, his tone rough and warm like he’s talking to a friend. It sits at the edge of his hearing as a comforting sound, something much nicer than the roar reaching up from under the stone.

Liu Sang clings onto that anchor as he rights himself and then, after a meaningful pause, rids himself of Pangzi’s hand. He doesn’t glare while he does it, just nods a little to let the other know he’s alright.

Pangzi lets him, and merely trudges forward without another word to allow Liu Sang some space where there isn’t much to be found. It’s incredibly thoughtful. And too much, it’s too much for Liu Sang to deal with right now. Emotions are precious and he can rarely afford them, and exploring a potentially dangerous tomb with his hearing already at a likelihood of being compromised is no time to indulge in them.

idiot (dirt in the doing)

Jet has just enough room in his apartment for one other person to stay over, and that’s stretching it, because all he really has is a bed that technically fits two people.

When Hawk stayed over during that first week of their extremely strained acquaintanceship, Jet had made him sleep on the couch. The second night, Hawk rolled off and made such a big deal out of the bruises that Jet gave in and let him sleep on the bed. That is, Jet just about shoved a spoon through Hawk’s eyeball, complained about it to Moss like an idiot, and was soft-glared into allowing the second occupant.

Jet has just enough room in his apartment for a second person, and maybe a third if someone else wants to chance the couch, but he doesn’t think he could withstand knowing that three people are sharing his place. If Copper is sleeping over, that leaves no emotional space for anyone else.

Even, or perhaps especially, if for some reason there’s an exhausted Rune standing in front of him at eleven o’clock at night, and Copper is indeed already asleep on Jet’s bed.

gold (the sleepy stash, 2021)

she dressed herself in midnight with a sparrow on her arm. she wore shoes of ice and rings of light and perfumed herself in charm. she smiled with teeth of gold and with every petaled word did harm. she strangled the moon with shadows. she never could get warm.

whole (dirt in the doing)

Jet thinks for a moment. “Would you rather be alone tonight?”

“I’d never rather be alone,” and this time her laughter sounds even more strained, even more like a slight breeze. “But I’m getting used to you.”

“I said you could,” Jet huffs, annoyed that they’re back at this. “I know we’re not very good at the whole trust thing, but I- whatever, you know, I trust you. Clearly, you also trust me, in some capacity.”

Rune wraps her arms around herself, not looking at him. “In some capacity, yeah.”

“So, then, stop being so weird and stupid, and rely on me where I’m giving you reasons, okay? I offer, you accept. You don’t have to ask.”

tired, tear, three, tease. BONUS: thread, temper. @indecentpause @lanawritesalittle @oh-no-another-idea @phantomofthewriting @splashinkling @talesfromgringolandia @wherearetheplants @writer-on-time OR ANYBODY

#find the word tag #searching circle #alliteration agency

[celestialmango]

I'm excited for Halloween! It's not too long now, it's just a shame it's not as big in England. I love eating pumpkins though, but the shops only sell carving pumpkins. They're still edible and we still make them into pies and soups, but it'd be nice that I didn't have to go to a farmer's market to get some other species. Halloween is important at least in my house :D ~Shy

We just dress up, well that is Sibby and I, and I buy a bunch of pumpkin flavored stuff, haven't gone out for Halloween in a long while and kids don't come to the apartment complex I live in to trick-or-treat, lots a people who don't celebrate in the complex, I just know me, one of the neighbors, and those who live with Sibby actually still celebrate it.

I'm planning to celebrate this year by making soul cakes. Which from what I remember, don't quote me on this. Soul cakes were traditionally baked as a gift for the spirits of the dead, the soul cake was used an offering to placate any angry ghosts who might be wandering around as the veil grew thin.

Basically an origin to trick-or-treating so to speak and Sibby and I still go by the whole "had to dress up as scary creatures to chase away evil spirits." Thing we heard as kids but as someone who's not rich, as much as I'd love to dress up as Wizardmon I have to live with just buying some liquid eyeliner and hairspray from the dollar store to draw a bunch of stitches on my exposed skin to make it look like I'm basically a ragdoll like Sally from nightmare before Christmas. Can't afford Halloween makeup unfortunately or I'd go hardcore spooky instead of minor spooky.

We don't do sexy Halloween (how you gonna spook the spooks dressed like that?), we do spooky and Sibby is goth soooo kinda gets home decorating things there as well as spooky cups and such.

I have a plastic skeleton hand champagne glass somewhere, tend to use it for sparking cider during hallows eve and the entirety of spooky month.

There's a few different ways to make soul cakes btw, I got a few recipes from a website I can put here if anyone else is interested in making the pastry as well. The buttery ones would be the hardest to make because it calls for saffron which is really really expensive so I put that on the very bottom. So easiest ones are Irish Cakes, Quickie Shortbread Soul Cakes and easiest of all Pie Crust Soul Cakes.

I'm wanting to do the Irish Cakes but I always have trouble getting dough to rise.

---------

Pie Crust Soul Cakes

You'll need:

A refrigerated roll-out pie crust

2 Tbs. melted butter

1 C mixed dried fruit

2 Tbs honey

Roll out the pie crust and cut it into circles. Use the circles to line a tin of muffin cups. Mix the butter, fruit and honey together. Scoop the fruit mixture into the pastry shells, and then bake for 15 minutes at 375 degrees. Allow to cool for about ten minutes before eating.

Quickie Shortbread Soul Cakes

You'll need:

1 stick of butter, softened

4 Tbs sugar

1 1/2 C flour

Cream together the butter and sugar. Use a flour sifter to add the flour to the bowl, and mix until it's smooth. Divide the dough into two parts, and shape each half into a flat circle about half an inch thick. Put them on an ungreased baking sheet (baking stones are really nice for this) and poke lines with the tines of a fork, making eight separate wedges in each cake. Bake for 25 minutes or until light brown at 350 degrees.

Irish Cakes

You'll need:

4 C flour

1 pkt active dry yeast

1 C milk

2 Tbs butter

1/2 tsp each cinnamon & salt

3/4 C sugar

1/2 C lemon zest

1 1/4 C golden raisins

Cream yeast with 1 tsp sugar & 1 tsp milk, let it get frothy. Blend flour, spices, & salt together, then cut in butter. Add the rest of the sugar to the flour mix and blend. Add milk & beaten egg onto the yeast mixture; combine with flour mixture. Beat until stiff.

Fold in raisins and zest, cover with a damp cloth and let rise. Divide in two, place each half in greased 7" round pan. Cover, let rise again for 30 minutes. Bake 1 hour at 400 degrees.

Buttery Soul Cakes

You'll need:

Two sticks butter, softened

3 1/2 C flour, sifted

1 C sugar

1/2 tsp. nutmeg & saffron

1 tsp each cinnamon & allspice

2 eggs

2 tsp malt vinegar

Powdered sugar

Cut the butter into the flour with a large fork. Mix in the sugar, nutmeg, saffron, cinnamon and allspice. Lightly beat eggs, and add to flour mixture. Add malt vinegar. Mix until you have a stiff dough. Knead for a while, then roll out until 1/4" thick. Use a floured glass to cut out 3" circles. Place on greased baking sheet and bake 25 minutes at 350 degrees. Sprinkle with powdered sugar while the cakes are still warm.

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Crispy Thin Crust BBQ Recipe: A Mouthwatering Delight

When it comes to pizza, there's something undeniably satisfying about the perfect combination of a crispy, thin crust and the bold flavors of barbecue sauce, tender meats, and savory toppings. In this article, we're going to explore a delicious Crispy Thin Crust BBQ Recipe that will have your taste buds dancing with delight. Whether you're a seasoned pizza enthusiast or a newbie in the kitchen, this recipe is sure to become a favorite in your culinary repertoire.

The Perfect Crispy Thin Crust

A great pizza starts with the perfect crust, and for our Crispy Thin Crust BBQ Recipe, we've got just the ticket. Here's what you'll need:

Ingredients for the Crust:

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

1 packet (2 1/4 tsp) active dry yeast

1 teaspoon sugar

1 cup warm water

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 teaspoon salt

Instructions:

In a bowl, combine the warm water, sugar, and yeast. Let it sit for about 5 minutes until it becomes frothy.

Add the flour, olive oil, and salt to the yeast mixture. Mix until a dough forms.

Knead the dough on a floured surface for about 5 minutes until it's smooth and elastic.

Place the dough in a greased bowl, cover it with a clean towel, and let it rise for about 30 minutes or until it doubles in size.

Preheat your oven to 475°F (245°C) and place a pizza stone or an inverted baking sheet on the middle rack.

Roll out the dough into a thin circle on a piece of parchment paper.

Carefully transfer the dough with the parchment paper onto the hot pizza stone or baking sheet.

Bake the crust for 5-7 minutes until it's slightly crispy and golden.

Savory BBQ Sauce

For our Crispy Thin Crust BBQ Recipe, we need a barbecue sauce that packs a punch. You can use your favorite store-bought sauce or try making your own with a blend of sweet, smoky, and tangy flavors. Here's a basic recipe to get you started:

Ingredients for BBQ Sauce:

1 cup ketchup

1/4 cup brown sugar

2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar

1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

1 teaspoon smoked paprika

1/2 teaspoon garlic powder

Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions:

In a saucepan, combine all the ingredients.

Simmer over low heat for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Taste and adjust the seasonings to your liking.

Toppings and Assembly

Now, let's assemble our Crispy Thin Crust BBQ Pizza:

Ingredients for Toppings:

1 1/2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese

1/2 cup cooked and shredded chicken or pulled pork

1/4 red onion, thinly sliced

Fresh cilantro leaves, for garnish

Extra BBQ sauce for drizzling

Instructions:

Spread a generous layer of your homemade BBQ sauce (or your favorite store-bought one) over the pre-baked crust.

Sprinkle the shredded mozzarella evenly over the sauce.

Add the cooked and shredded chicken or pulled pork.

Scatter the sliced red onions on top.

Place the pizza back in the oven and bake for an additional 8-10 minutes or until the cheese is bubbly and golden.

Remove the pizza from the oven and garnish with fresh cilantro leaves.

Drizzle a bit more BBQ sauce for that extra burst of flavor.

Conclusion

The Crispy Thin Crust BBQ Recipe combines the crunch of a thin crust with the smoky, sweet, and savory goodness of barbecue sauce. It's a culinary masterpiece that's surprisingly easy to make at home. Whether you're enjoying it for a family dinner, a gathering with friends, or a solo indulgence, this pizza is sure to satisfy your cravings for that perfect blend of crispy crust and barbecue bliss. So, gather your ingredients and get ready to savor every bite of this mouthwatering delight!

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