#Bread's intro collection

[atropabelladonna1692]

╰ *ੈ✎‧₊˚ Bread's Mutuals !

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┆☆ @neversam / Sam

┆☆ @nukabrain / Nuka

┆☆ More Mutuals may be added in the future !!

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CREDIT GOES TO @neversam FOR MAKING THIS POST!!

[astralnymphh]

before the flora.

knight!ellie x princess!reader teaser. beginning is essentially just lore. bonus excerpt with ellie and princess interaction below the sketch. wrote the intro in january. no warnings tbh. illustration by @trackinglessons :P READ THIS . PALESTINE MASTERPOST

When the universe was born, there was only fire; a slowly waning blaze. And so hence when death begins to unfurl its low, groaning bloom— there will only be ice.

Yet the heavens and earth are nay alike, as death— and life, are interwoven by the timeless nuptial that is humans, and Mother Nature. Cordial and tepid heartbeats meet with her frigid and frightening marrow this season. Flakes are falling, a howl swells in the wind, and hearths stay an undying tongue of flame in the province of Istenad. Isle of riches and hedonism gone rampant amongst those who proved meritful of a conversation spat over gilded chalices. Or those who wiped a famished tongue stroke over the sole of His Majesty— The King's tan leather boots in entreat, declaring the hide a tenfold more gullet–watering than their stale, daily spare of bread. Where high life reins, low life is there to scrub their steeds.

The wintry pearlescent tundra fringing around uncharted woodlands hums your name— it carries by gale, an airy reed of vowels pulled through your ears. 

Tut, tut, tut, the pecking of bark.

Everything seems to resound much heavier over the windows thick limestone sill. Woodwinds, the sough of pine boughs— a chorus wafted. Woodpeckers, they beat rigid timber with their sonnets of calling. The echoed tut starts to sound awfully kindred to a beckoning call of your name. And at daybreak, when the tangerine sun dips its head under the coast, you feel a magnetic lull to traverse your truest passions and slip away into the night, arctic chilled steel in hand. The quantity of hay sticking beneath your shoes collected by skittering across the night–doused thoroughfare was well enough to concern your maids on duty to dress you, brows fuddled at the streaming of straw near your door come morning.

Loop of your knuckles, bend of your wrist, a hand flexed on the hilt of a meticulously poached sword. A swing 'round your waist, a cold hale grip the air could taste, fighting off many mythic brutes of moonlight, however only conceived where dreams are airtight. The mind, it plays. The play it perceives, a viewing spread like tawny butter. Ghouls and ghastlies encircle a quaint pond, chanting away in cryptic grumbles and beastly bumbles, enraged with their slobber frothing at the fangs you tore from their sockets— deeper than artless, juxtaposed to the blinding ruby reds and dyed paper sunflowers of the theater. Your mind’s play felt real.

Unfortunate to your heart, dreams will stay dreams.

Nary a princess was meant to tune into melee, especially at your courting age. Nevertheless, your psyche has spurned from what a maiden is expected of and is completely in a haven of your own structure, your signature sanctuary. 

In the farmsteads, a forthcoming soldier harvests not just crop— but dexterity. Derived and nurtured in the faraway prairie village of Dunwich, where the fertile seasons prove flaxen of corn and the trickling sweat of every farmhand turns to gold. Any newborn granted to this quaint village is fated to form calloused hands with labor written in their palm lines as time unfolds. In their— well, her— adolescent years, the yearning for practices of gallantry in knighthood swiveled her sights to the colossal stone castle way.. way far away. Sprouting beyond the earth line, far as the eye can see.

So, she learned, she trained, she slept, partaking in a ranged cycle taught by her ruthlessly departed father: Sir Joel. Reprisal became her nemesis; never able to rend the barrier of hesitation and cleanse her shut eyes of revolting imagery. The horseman of death was not omitting the trauma of this hazel-haired soldier. A weight so burdensome, her speckled skin remembers the tales of every scar clawed into it. Like how the lips of a bard cling to an everlasting ballad.

Every knight knew well to exile any lingering ties to the past. It's been years since he passed, she understands that. Though, the heart never lies, and certainly never covets forgetting.

Ambitions stemming from legions of knights in waiting have fallen short, submerging within the moat of the castle and sinking deep into the catacombs with no elegy sung. An allegory for dreams long since vanished. A domain so valued longs for those biding life with rigid bones, such as she. Tempered by the hardships, endured like metal meeting the blacksmith's chisel. 

A vividness to her movements, flowing like a river. For it is water that soothes the most cosmic fires, carves veins into the earth's soil, descends from the heavens above and proves iron soluble. A knight so pinpoint and poised like a painter, yet so daring and baneful like a warrior of evenfall. An artisan of her craft, this knight-to-be is. Born to thrive in matters regarding protection of their kingdom and its nobility. By the sheer tenacity of her skill, she will excel. From the self–instructed lessons in a verdant pasture, basked by undying light in her hometown— to the ordained priming within the royal court. 

They were forged to be dutiful. 

You are a daughter of the illustrious King, Sagard, and swan–grace queen, Sagard— maiden name Adela, and sister of your highly revered and cherished kin, Prudence. Subsequent to her fabled rise, was your fall. A pratfall you plainly turned a serene ear from, for you foresaw its coming. Clandestine adventures and lollygagging in the marketplace earned you right in the clasp of consequences. You knew that, knowing it kept you on the balls of your toes before you'd be caught suiting into an act more repugnant— be it, no.. befogging yourself in a peasant boys' dire–in–muck rags, merely to play "boy" games as a young one? 

Sacrilege! 

Prudence was there, at every occasion, scolding with her youthful finger at the palace fore, sucking her fingertip wet of spit and dragging a stroke over your soot–strewn cheek, just before scuttling the halls in search of father, cawing, “Father, Father! My sisters become a boy again!” until it rang his fucking ears to a pulse. Hmph, father even countered his own remark of squawk, pouring through the walls, “Hah! The second son I wish I reared! Tell me, what peasants skin does she clad: butcher's boy, or of the farmer?”

Rebuking the role of royalty isn't your entire bastion of vengeance. You purely long for a world of your own color. Your self-brewn arcadia of art. In a concise phrase, desire for sovereignty. And your family chastised you curtly for every scant display of free will, short of the Queen, she is fair.

Daughter of the King, Princess of the thicket. You retain your fortunes. Modestly.

“Why don't you resemble your sister more?”

A ruby crested box designed by the best of goldsmiths is lodged at the margin of your beds footboard, safekeeping of your esteemed regalia. You possess a bedazzled amassing of circlets, veils, brocade and velvet tunics of long lengths within this box. But do any of them revel in the blessing of being worn on regal skin? Never. You opted for garbs of less gilding and jewels, so that you might taint it with whatever adventures mold under the ribbing of your foot. That shit offended your skin with its indelicacy of forgetting a human will don its fabric golds and woven jewels.

Even— court gatherings. You don the likeness of simplicity and temperate elegance. This morning's virginal aurora, a broach of light swoll from the windows arch, to the footing of your bed, made the wake of your eyes begin upon a lighting behind sheer skin. Your box of regalia shone in that incandescence momentarily. It danced, fleeter than you, irkingly so. You had to squint whilst flipping the clasps and hauling the heavy lid slanted against your bed, or else you may be heaven–blinded. “Every inch of Princess,” you intoned in quietude at the sight of glamored fabrics, “—whom I shant mirror.” and reached for the homelier fabrics, scratch of cobalt-blue linen delight brushing under your prints, you grasped your reserve tight.

“I was not made aware that there is a village wedding to be, dear sister— from what river does this dress of rags hail from?”

“It is not a brides dress, nor rags, leave me Prud—”

Prudence had blocked the shut of your chamber door with her hand flattened, pursuing, “You glum your gems. Rotting in that chest, tasting no light, no glory.”

You kept your lips thickly sown shut, casting dimly eyes to the ground.

“Shall I send for the steward so he may sell—”

“No need.”

“Hmm, most stubborn, are we? Then I—”

“I am least stubborn,” you wedged your fingers beneath her palm, prying the door loose, “—it is you, who strays your own counsel, unmoving as a mountain.” ending with the trudging shut of your door, ceasing in silence.

[++ bonus excerpt from act 2, scene 1]

“Uh–huh..” she draws out. Legato; a sarcastic reply, and wipes her tongue through the press of her lips together, “This far out? You must rebel quite often to have made a friend, I bet?” she tilts her head, a bit playful.

“You bet well— a lot, I assume?” 

Cannily, she winks, “Indeed I do.” and aligns her face onward. Gesturing to her horse's rump a second— third? Eh, whatever time— she jerks her brow with a head cock back, “Hop on, I'll take you there.”

Both brows fall, and you flinch bemused, “Wh– uh,” as you hem and haw for words, grating a stutter, “But not a moment ago you spoke of the roads recent perils—”

“Surely it's not far?” she spoke presumptuously, “I mean, you've come this far, My Lady. Nobody would travel the woods past sunset, besides you it seems.” now a matter–of–fact vocal barricade that shoves itself into your ears and winds the cogs to think cleverly.

You shan't know my transgressions, sweet Knight. You may talk.

Trust is sparse as a puddle marched in.

“‘Tis but a mile out. Bravo on your convincing, Williams.” you wry and scoff. 

“Can't fumble that name, huh?”

“I would not want to dishonor your knighthood.” 

“You honor me with your coincidental presence, Princess.”

“Honor in your mind.”

"Hmph," her breathy chuckle, a sweetness you luckily caught with ears even numbed by the snowsquall. Do not blush. Do not smile. Fuck. Guess you'll be visiting Malina after all, the gale of a displeased sigh icing your lips over as you approach that dangling stirrup.

[tianasimstreehouse]

Occult Recipebook

Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble.

INTRO

Occult gameplay is up there with one of my favourite ways to play. Food is a part of our Sims lives, and should also be for occults so that they can cook up their preferred foods.

This Occult Recipebook is a collection of custom recipes (food and drink) for Occult Sims in the Sims 4.

I have started off this occult culinary journey with: ✨SPELLCASTERS✨

I have plans to later create foods for each occult life state, so I will keep adding to the recipe book.

“Spellcasters” as a life state can be played in so many different ways: they can range from gnarly evil witches who practice black magic and eat bird entrails, to happy little fairies who live in cottages surrounded by woods and flowers! I have tried to include a little bit of everything in the recipes I have created. These foods are a mix of fairy, fantasy, green garden witch, apothecary, or black-magic sorcerer etc. 

They effect Spellcasters and/or human Sims in many weird and wonderful ways.

E.g. Nettle Tea which helps teenagers suffering with acne, Milk Thistle Biscuits which leave the consumer with prickly thistles in their tongue, and Eye of Newt Soup which most Sims will find disgusting but which Spellcasters will happily slurp up.

RECIPES

39 new recipes for your Spellcasters!

~ Realm of Magic is required for these recipes ~

**there's a fair amount of pack-integration, and be sure to read the pack recommendations on the Patreon post for each recipe** to make sure nothing is missing or glitching.

Meals Dandelion Salad - increases SCs gardening skill, fills PlantSims' hunger Nettle Soup Soft-Boiled Golden Eggs - makes Sims glow and glitter Pumpkin Pasties Pomegranate Halves Eye of Newt Soup - makes other Sims feel sick Valerian Root Pie - other Sims won't like this dish Elderberry Jam Toast Toadstool Soup - inspires SCs, normal Sims won't like this dish Salamander Stew - other Sims won't like this dish Spiced Honey Bread - SCs will gain all skills faster Raised Newt Pie - makes other Sims feel sick Dragon Livers - Werewolves will love these and normal Sims won't Raised Phoenix Pie - Sims will randomly breathe fire for a while and feel confident

Desserts Milk Thistle Biscuits - chance to get uncomfortable thistles in tongue Huckleberry Jam Cream Puffs - makes SCs playful Fairy Bread Soul Cakes Huckleberry Pie Juniper Berry Jam Biscuits Honeycomb Cakes - SCs will gain all skills faster Valerian Custard Tart Toadstool Cookies Cursed Cookies - wouldn't recommend eating these... serve them to enemies! Eating one may leave the SC eater cursed. Good Sims will sense the evil inside and get sad Canning *Requires Cottage Living Canning Skill Gooseberry Jam Elderberry Jam Rosehip Jelly Drinks *Bar/alcoholic drinks require Mixology skill, and a Bar. Acorn Coffee (*coffee machine) Pumpkin Juice Willow Bark Tea - A home remedy to cure most illnesses, food poisoning etc Sage Tea - soothes stress and anger, SCs are focused and improve logic skills faster Nettle Tea - helps teens suffering from acne Lavender Tea - makes Sims flirty Mugwort Tea - reduces fear or panic Butterbeer - gives SCs confidence Mandrake Ale Nettle Wine Dandelion Wine Elderberry Wine

INFO & DOWNLOAD (early access): https://www.patreon.com/posts/79514896?pr=true Milk & Cookies: Now! Sugar Cookies: May 24th Public: May 31st

Pro tip for Windows PC users: Please make sure to delete the MACOSX folders/files that can appear after you extract the mod's files, otherwise the game may throw an error and not load at all.

TRANSLATIONS Polish - ❤️ Daisy1728, find their translation over here French - ❤️ Heidi / LuniverSims, find their translation here

[runaaaxoxo]

❝ @ RUNA ❞ # ‵ ~ intro post ;; shifting

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

୨୧ any pronouns

୨୧ my name is runa, but you can call me angel or ru

୨୧ poc ; lgbtq +

୨୧ petnames are okay! jus dont be xtreme

୨୧ active shifter ; has shifted multiple times

୨୧ 5th april

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

a little bit about me ⁑

୨୧ i like strawberries, gum, mango juice, energy drinks, tea, bread and sanrio.

୨୧ i dont like close-minded people, pepsi, coffee, scooters, and cherry lollipops

୨୧ i collect pop tabs lmfao,, in every reality i go to i have atleast 100+ poptabs hidden in my bag

୨୧ im pretty open-minded, so you can talk to me about anything! i will not tolerate any hate , tho.

୨୧ english isnt my first laguage ; i abbreviate almost everything lols

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

!! some of my posts will be reposted from my account on amino!!

dr masterlist

shiftmas 2024

tags ;

#runa.answers #runa.asks

#runa.rambles #runa.posts

i'll add to this and make it pretty later -- i just woke up lmfao

[edwad]

I think Conquest of Bread is not a terribly difficult or long book and gets at the collective spirit of socialism and how it may be organized in society. Not an intro to Marx but it is an intro to socialism on which you can build a Marxist understanding later if you wish.

Anarcho-Syndicalism Theory and Practice by Rocker falls generally along these lines as well.

i've never read these admittedly and my kneejerk marx-brained reaction is to assume these texts probably aren't good for the kinds of things i want, but happy to be convinced otherwise. i suppose at some point i ought to read the kropotkin at least

[donnieisaprettyboy]

new intro post !!

(intro inspired by @frogofalltime) (picrew by @reelrollsweat)

name donnie

pronouns any (pronouns.cc)

age/birthday 22 [25 Jan 2002]

languages I'm fluent in English and know conversational Spanish

special interests undertale, teenage mutant ninja turtles, red dead redemption 2

current hyperfixation crochet

favorite movie(s) ratatouille, mutant mayhem, the rottmnt movie on netflix

favorite show(s) rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles, spongebob, bojack horseman

favorite musicians hozier, poor man’s poison, will wood

current favorite songs "’blue velvet’ reboot starring tom waits” by will wood, “venetian blind man” by will wood, “BlackBoxWarrior - OKULTRA” by will wood

about me

hello! I'm donnie, and I'm transmasc and gender apathetic. I'm currently in my 5th year of university. I study environmental geoscience, and I'm hoping to get my master's degree after I finish my undergrad. I either want to study climatology, hydrology, or just go straight into industry as an environmental consultant.

my hobbies include crocheting, baking, and writing fanfics and poetry. my favorite things to crochet are cardigans and sweaters, I love to bake dessert breads like banana bread and pumpkin bread, and what I write fanfics about is REDACTED. I have a sewing machine but I've been too nervous to actually try to learn to sew something.

I'm buddhist. I was first introduced to the beliefs of the religion by my fiance's family, who invited me to pray before we left their house everyday and pray when getting back. my fiance and I are both buddhist, though truly we don't do much because our apartment is too small to have a shrine that would actually be facing the correct direction. we pray occasionally, but our practice is more internal than external.

some fun facts about me!

I have 2 cats and a dog (my dog is smaller than both my cats)

I have a collection of TMNT action figures

I'm left handed!

I'm autistic (hence the special interests)

I’ve been with my now husband for nearly 5 years, and have been married since 5 october 2024. we had a halloween themed wedding! 🧡🖤

[arrayoflightarchives]

Array of Light Archives Intro

We are the Array of Light Archives! A very silly system that mostly just shit posts but we can occasionally be v funny and/or relatable if that's ur cup of tea :3

Pls feel free to read more, there will be an general info section and then more detailed information past the cut

It will probably be a lot as we ramble but there are key points highlighted in pink

General Info

-–— System Name: Array of Light Archives

-–— Collective Name: Kris or (sometimes) Array

-–— Collective Prns: He/Him

-–— Collective Identity: Trans = Bi = Aspec

-–— Body Age: 18

-–— Collective Interests: Bears in Trees ¦ Haikyuu, Sasaki to Miyano + other anime/manga ¦ Crochet ¦ Good Omens ¦ Bujo ¦ Marauders ¦ + a number of other things

Boundaries

DNI

General dni of bigotry, pro-ship, maps etc -> bigorty I'm meaning homophobia, transphobia, ablesim etc - basic dni shit

Endos + Pro-endo (mostly alright with endo-neutral, but more comfortable w/ those leaning more towards anti)

NSFW blogs

Fake claimers

Antis (anti things like xenogenders, neopronouns, furries, therians, alter humans and other kin etc, if ur anti those things dni)

Radqueers and Trans-ID

Syscourse specific blogs

Pro-Isreal stance

Other Boundaries

We don't mind some discussion of syscourse but that's not what the blog is abt so pls don't bring it too much here

Not mdni but just, we are legally an adult so pls try not to interact too much (one of interactions are fine) if ur under the age of 14/15 cause it feels weird to us sorry

We are traumagenic + mentally ill and therefore have triggers. We won't share them but if smt does trigger us, then it will be deleted sorry

Although we're a v punk collective, pls try not too bring extreme politics here

Pls don't dm us unless ur a mutual or have asked and we have given permission to dm before hand :3

Any questions abt dni/boundaries then feel free to drop an ask!!

Other Sys Info

We are a traumagenic OSDD system who have varying degrees of amnesia

We are autistic and adhd and have a history of associated mental health issues

We also have OCD and Emetophobia although that won't come up much

We are brainmade heavy although we still have many fictives from a variety of different sources

Feel free to ask any questions about the system or alters just know we might not want to answer - but most of the time we love talking about our system

Blog Info

General

We are neurodivergent so we will probably post abt that alongside our other stuff

This blog is probably abt half fandom posting, about 40% system posting and the last 10% is live logging or other shit like thoughts + opinions

Although that could honestly just change depending on frequent fronters

Carrd: (it's got some details but most of it is on here anyways but go have a look if you want)

Sideblogs

This will probably continue to grow -> they're all just alters personal blogs

@its-krisscross-applesauce -> 🐝

@omi-omi-says -> 🍙

@indis-vines -> 🌿

@rhye-bread -> 💯

Alter Info

@torii-ii -> 🖥️

@seb-lowe-loml -> 🌀

Hosts:

¦ Omi - He/Him - 23 - host and (angry) protector - sign off: 🍙

¦ Kris - He/Him - 17 - co-host and online social mask - sign off: 🐝

Other blog frequents:

¦ Kristian - He/Him - 38-40 - protector - sign off: 🐻

¦ Indi - She/They - 28 - caretaker - sign off: 🌿

¦ Rhyland - Xe/Fae/He/They - 16 - Symptom Holder - sign off: 💯

¦ Daisy - They/She - 16 - Social caretaker - sign off: 🌼

¦ Angel - Angel/Any - ageless - Gatekeeper - sign off: 🪐

¦ Dylan - He/Him - 17/18 - Protector + Academic - sign off: 🌀

Other sign offs you might see:

❓-> blurry or unsure of who's fronting

🩷 -> Liz || 🐜 -> Daniel || 🪨 -> Kiri || 🏐 -> Kenma || 🍊 -> Caiden || 🌱 -> Charlie || 📖 -> Elise || 🩹 -> Ghost || 📎 -> Alec || 🍷-> Mara || 🖥️ -> Tori

There are more people in our system and they will be added if they post anything but for now this is the list

If they have or make intro posts, they will be hyperlinked to their names so feel free to check them out but those will only happen if they decide to make one

We also have quite a few littles and they most likely will not be on here unless it is deemed okay by their protector

[pines-square]

(OOC POST)

Hiiii!!! Welcome to Pines Square, basically it’s a newsies district for me and a few of my friend’s ocs(they’ll be tagged with their characters)

Boundaries:

No NSFW!!! All the ocs and most of the creators are MINORS

I dunno about shipping tbh…it really depends on the oc; but as a basis assume there’s no shipping…

INFO:

The district leader of Pines Square is Jittery!!!(my oc) the second in command being Songbird/Birdie

Feel free to ask questions to any(or all or more than one of) the characters!!! RP interactions may be aloud for certain characters! Just ask :33

Pines square is oddly foresty for a New York town and selling isn’t always the fastest- which is why not many newsies live there.

[OC INTROS]

Name: Jesse “Jittery” Monroe

Owner: @coffeeistired

Age: 14

Sexuality: they dunno anymore…aroace spec??

Pronouns: They/Them

Inventory: coins, random rocks, the other glove(they only wear one) and a small notepad

^ district leader

Name: Kenneth “Mouser” Stewart

Owner: @elmer-not-the-glue

Age: 15

Sexuality / gender: ??? Bro’s just chilling…(he/him, I think)

Inventory: random stuff he picks up!!

Name: Max “Match/Matchstick” Harris

Owner: @thegreatbuttoneer

Age: 15

Sexuality: grayromantic asexual

Pronouns: He/They (AFAB at birth)

Inventory: two matchboxes, one cheap one and one from a fancy bar. (Hasn’t actually been in that bar, found it dropped outside,) scraps of torn up old newspapers or wood, probably a couple dried leaves too

Dating Birdie/Songbird!!

Name: Juliette ‘ Church / Church Bell’ Crowe

Owner: @plxtonixm

Age: 17

Sexuality: ???

Gender: Agender, fem presenting

Inventory: Inventory: notebook and pencil, a penny whistle, half a loaf of bread, bandages, a couple penny candies

Name: Salis “Scrabble” Lovell

Owner: @just-david-jacobs

Age: 17, but if anyone asks 18

Sexuality: ???

Gender: man.

Inventory: newspaper scraps, old charcoal peices

Name: Kit “Songbird(fem)/Birdie(masc)” Caggiano

Owner: @finchesslingshott

Age: 16

Sexuality: ???

Gender: genderfuild (she/they/he- fem presenting)

Inventory: songwriting notebook, pan flute stolen from an antique store, some loose change, a couple half-broken pencils, their mother's locket

Dating Match!!

Name: Harvey ‘Giraffe’ Byrne

Owner: @piece-of-moss

Age: 15

Gender: FTM, He/They

Inventory: a piece of rope that they use as a leash when needed for Nettle, a scrap of paper with his favorite poem, a stolen bracelet

*Nettle is his dog

Name: Tai ‘Twig’ Saylor

Owner: @twig-collector

Gender:doesn’t know, any pronouns

Sexuality: ???

Inventory: silver necklace given by mother, newspaper scraps with quotes they like

Name: Maíz ‘Pages’ Farest

Owner: @thatmusicaltheaternerd

Gender: transmasc non-binary (he/they)

Sexuality: ace + pan

Inventory: a book or a journal and pen, a ||switchblade|| their glasses and the case, at least three rings (they collect them, and sometimes make them too), and a couple guitar picks

Name: Marcus ‘Baozhi’ Chung

Owner: @crazed-lamb-leg-enthusiast

Gender: man.

Sexuality: confused???

Inventory: haw flakes, a reusable shopping bag and a pair of flip flops in his inventory

[little-peril-stories]

The Queen of Lies: Nullum Magnum Ingenium

Story Intro | Content Warnings | Mood Board | Vibey Song Lyrics | Ao3

Contains: lady whump, asylum, outdated/problematic/ableist language, bullying (includes food-related taunting, Victorian-style slut-shaming, sexist language), feeling humiliated, drugging/sedation

Previous | Masterlist | Next (on ao3)

Word count: 4700 || Approx reading time: 19 mins

Nullum Magnum Ingenium

Teaser: This room was so cold, her teeth chattered. Perhaps the presence of a few other bodies might have dispelled the horrid chill, or even kept at bay the nightmares—horrible ones, dark and sinister, filled with screams and the blood-flecked ghost of Will’s face.

Bree awoke from an ordeal that vaguely resembled sleep, curled into a ball and shivering, her face stiff and sticky with dried tears. The night had passed slowly, filled with constant interruptions from heavy-footed nurses. Each time, they’d noisily opened her door to peer into her face. Checking, it seemed, to ensure she was alive and calm and who she said she was.

From what she understood, Baden was paying handsomely for a private room, but she had to wonder if a shared dorm wouldn’t be more pleasant. This room was so cold, her teeth chattered. Perhaps the presence of a few other bodies might have dispelled the horrid chill, or even kept at bay the nightmares—horrible ones, dark and sinister, filled with screams and the blood-flecked ghost of Will’s face.

A basin of water was delivered, its arrival foretold by footsteps and the scrape of a key unlocking her door. Bree shivered through her ablutions, splashing her face and drying it with a yellowed towel that scraped her skin. Smoothing her hair with an old hairbrush made her skin crawl; she tried not to fixate on how many other locks it had brushed before. The morning nurse, a smiling woman whose black hair was braided away from her face and tied with a pink bow, provided her with a coarse, grey dress. Bree did not object, even though it was as hideous as her slip and equally uncomfortable. It, too, was stamped with its inventory number and Greyhurst’s name.

First, property of Baden Hatchett; now, property of the asylum.

“Come along, Mrs. Hatchett,” said the nurse in a sweet, accented voice when she was done. “Shall we see what they’ve made for breakfast?”

It seemed impossible that this kindly girl could be in the same profession as the blonde gossip from the day before.

In the dining room, Bree quickly found her way to Mrs. Strickland, certain she would need the encouragement to choke down her food when she saw what was being served: unbuttered bread and bowls of watery oatmeal striped with thin drizzles of molasses.

“Remember what I told you yesterday,” said the older woman, sipping daintily at her tea. Bree’s eyes filled with tears when she tasted hers. Will’s voice came to her, complaining about a different cup of tea; now she, too, knew what tea tasted like when it was made with care and love—and when it wasn’t.

“How long have you been here?” Bree asked, trying to take her mind off the lamentable bill of fare.

Mrs. Strickland’s face fell. “Almost three years.”

Bree nearly spilled her tea into her lap—not that it would have hurt much, considering that it was lukewarm. “What?” Her face drawn but collected, Mrs. Strickland nodded. “But—I thought—Dr. Armstrong said a few months—”

“For some, yes.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Bree put down her teacup and took the woman’s hand. “I…I’m so sorry.”

Why on earth should this gentle woman have been locked away for so long? “Wh…” Fearing to pry, she cut herself off, but Mrs. Strickland grasped her question nonetheless.

“My husband and I have different ideas about how children ought to be raised.” Mrs. Strickland’s gaze, clouded with sorrow, fixed upon something on the opposite side of the room. “It was a battle I couldn’t win, since… Well, perhaps you know better than most. The law is not on our side, is it?”

Recalling Baden’s voice as he declared her forcible commitment entirely lawful, Bree shook her head.

“Some things are beyond our control, regardless of how hard we try,” said Mrs. Strickland. “Or how valiantly we fight.”

Something shivered and trembled inside Bree’s chest. That simply couldn’t be true.

But she thought of herself standing helpless, frozen, and silent as Baden walked away.

“We do our best,” said Mrs. Strickland, “with the lot we’re given. We keep going. We…” She glanced around the room, and for a moment, Bree could see the anguish swirling around her like mist. No, not just anguish; there was anger, too, and determination. Quiet, subdued—but not extinguished. “Survive.”

The rest of the meal passed largely in melancholy silence. When it was done, however, Mrs. Strickland got to her feet and informed the nurses, in a voice as reasonable as any Bree had ever heard, that she would take the new girl under her wing, if you please, and so Breanna Hatchett would accompany her for work in the sewing room. To Bree’s astonishment, no one scoffed or objected; in fact, the pink-bowed nurse beamed and said she thought it was a marvellous idea.

The sewing room was a surprisingly bright area filled with natural light and quietly chattering women. Work, Mrs. Strickland said, was part of the healing regimen at Greyhurst. Thus, much of the day would be passed with needlework, sewing clothes, pillowcases, sheets, and more.

“Saves them a great deal of money to have us do it,” Mrs. Strickland whispered with a roll of her eyes, and Bree couldn’t help but return a cynical laugh.

It was undeniably a relief to have something to occupy her mind: in every moment she wasn’t working, she fretted about whether Will was safe. If, as her slim silver needle wove in and out of her fabric, he was being locked in chains, carted away, or put to death. If each loop of her thread perfectly mimicked the deathly coil of a noose.

The first day ebbed into a second, and then a third, settling into a routine: rest, meals, work. The nightmares did not fade, nor did her sleep improve: if it wasn’t the nurses disturbing her with their stomping footsteps, it was the cries of poor souls elsewhere in the asylum. Bree burst into tears the first time she was jolted awake by a haunting, woeful scream.

Even so, her days passed in what might have been pleasant mundanity—if not for the ever-present terror that the next morning would be the one when a nurse or doctor burst in bearing news that those wicked Iustitia aecum thieves had been caught and put to death.

She was on her second pillowcase of the day when a nurse summoned her, announcing that she had a visitor. Bree’s mouth went dry. So, Baden was back. Perhaps bringing her belongings, perhaps some extra clothes.

Perhaps tidings of misery and death.

Squaring her shoulders, Bree followed the nurse from the room, her mind racing. Today, she would not face Baden with terror, hysteria, tears, or ravings. She would overpower him with strength of argument and soundness of mind, and she would convince him she had been wrongfully detained. Then, the moment she was free, she would find Will—and make sure Baden never laid a finger on him again.

It was a fine plan, or it would have been had Baden Hatchett been waiting for her.

“Breanna?”

Alice Wright stood stiffly in the parlour, twisting her fingers together. Her hands shook.

“Alice,” Bree whispered.

The afternoon light was weak and silvery. Spilling through the window, it glinted off Alice’s dark hair, and even though it was a miserable, grey sort of glow, she looked as beautiful and put-together as she always did.

Judging by how Alice clapped her hands to her mouth, Bree knew the light did not have the same effect on her.

Fleeting glances in the mirror had revealed an unpleasant truth: although only a few days had passed, her appearance was already deteriorating. There remained not a whit of shine to her hair; her skin was growing sallow; ringing her eyes were circles of dolorous, ashy grey.

Altogether, she looked positively frightful.

“Oh, Breanna,” Alice squeaked, darting forward and embracing her tightly. “What’s happened to you?”

Bree swallowed swift, smarting tears, unsure whether to be mortified or grateful that Alice bore witness to her imprisonment. Had Baden told everybody, then, that she was mad? Whenever anyone spoke the name “Hatchett” from now on, would it immediately be followed by condoling coos of, “Oh, that poor dear! Did you hear? Do you suppose they’ll ever let her out?”

But Alice merely murmured, “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he would—I didn’t know it would come to this.”

Baden hadn’t come, but Alice had.

Baden wouldn’t help her—but perhaps Alice would.

“Please,” Bree said dizzily, her heart beginning to thrum faster. “Alice, please, you must listen. I’m not mad.” She swung her head around, cognizant of how perfectly paranoid she must look even as she insisted she was sane, but what she wished to say next, the nurses could not overhear. “I need your help.”

“Breanna, I—”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be in here,” she interrupted. “Please, listen. I’m not insane. Baden, he—he’s just trying to protect his reputation, don’t you understand? Because—because I—”

Because I fell in love with someone else.

“You must find him,” Bree whispered. “And warn him.”

“Wait—”

“Please!” Bree squeezed her friend’s hands. “You have to warn…”

Will. But what meaning would that name hold for Alice? None. Fox. Why should she recognize that name over his real one? The thief—my thief. But wasn’t that much the same as confessing her crimes?

Bree froze as she realized she had not a clue of how to word her plea.

“Breanna,” said Alice gently, cupping her cheek, “perhaps you might listen to me first.” She turned to the nearest nurse, who, to Bree’s great trepidation, was Miss Dugford. “I wish to walk with my friend.”

“If you want to go outside,” said Miss Dugford sullenly, “you’ll need an escort. She roamed her gaze over Alice’s smart outfit and lofty expression—and apparently concluded that this was a fine lady who was not to be crossed or trifled with. Bree nearly collapsed with relief.

“Fine,” Alice sniffed. “Then we shall simply take a turn about the room.” With a haughty toss of her hair, she laid a hand on Bree’s arm and tugged her along.

The softest whisper tickled her ear: “I have news, but play along for a few minutes, all right?”

Alice prattled on for those few—yet agonizing—minutes, filling the air with questions. How had Greyhurst’s staff been treating her? Had she been sleeping? Was there anything she needed? Why on earth had Baden not yet sent any extra clothes? Unacceptable. Rest assured, she would arrange to have some dresses sent immediately.

After two and a half circles around the room, one nurse, clearly bored, began to plunk away at the piano in the corner, making what Bree thought was quite an unnecessary racket. A new light glowed in Alice’s eyes.

“I was sent here,” she said softly, her eyes on the musically-minded nurse, her face perfectly calm, “but it wasn’t your husband who told me you’d been committed.”

Bree stumbled to a halt. “What?”

“Shh,” Alice admonished. “Enjoy the lovely music, won’t you?” The tune was far from skillfully played, but it was loud—and distracting.

“Who sent you?” Bree whispered.

“A terribly rude young man.”

As it sank in what this meant—the only person Alice could mean—Bree’s eyes filled with tears.

“Stop reacting!” Alice said quickly. Raising her voice, she said, “Now, Breanna, I know you’re terribly homesick, but—” She wavered. “Remember, we all just want what’s best for you. No doubt you’ll be feeling much better soon.”

Will. He didn’t hate her after all.

“He sought me out,” said Alice quietly, “all for you.”

Washed away by these words was the conviction that Will despised her for dooming Jamie—but Bree’s relief was accompanied by horror. “He did?” When the constables could have found him at any moment? “Was he all right?”

“Well, I thought he was rather vulgar. But…” Alice nodded. “He seemed unhurt. Only…upset.” After a pause, she added, “And really quite incorrigible.”

Although she laughed, Bree’s throat ached with gratitude. Will, her Will—so reckless. Too reckless. “Alice, you have to warn him. Baden wants him dead. If you see him again, you must send him away. He can’t be caught.”

Alice’s face fell as she laid a hand on Bree’s arm. “He knows.”

“He—how?”

Whispering even more quietly now, Alice said, “A new arrest warrant. It says he’s done…terrible things. Awful things. To you.”

Bree’s hands moved of their own accord, taking hold of the end of her braid and combing through the ends. Every muscle seemed to tremble. “Alice, it’s not true. He didn’t. He wouldn’t.”

“So he insisted,” Alice said. “As did his friend. A woman.”

Colette was trying to help her, too? Bree pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to keep her sobs reined in.

“It’ll be all right,” said Alice soothingly, passing another worried glance around the room, apparently determining that Bree’s distress had grown too conspicuous. “You’ll be right as rain before you know it.” She took Bree’s hand again.

Something circular passed from Alice’s palm to Bree’s.

Quiet as a falling petal, Alice whispered, “I’m here to seek a way in, and I think I’ve found it.”

Without giving Bree an opportunity to react, she burst into loud, cheerful chatter. “Now, let’s rest for a few minutes before I go. Shall I tell you all about the literary society? No doubt you’ll be joining us in no time.”

They rested upon a poorly cushioned bench by the window. With a furtive glance around, only half-listening as Alice described the literary society’s current book and detailed her husband’s latest travels with the military, Bree glanced at the item in her palm.

A roughly carved coin, decorated on both sides: on one face, a tree with ringed roots, and on the other, two letters.

I.A.

Praying her shaking hands wouldn’t cause her to drop the precious gift Will had sent her, Bree slipped the coin into her stocking. She would not allow the nurses to see it, to find it, to parse its meaning—or to take it away.

His meaning, unwritten but clear: I’m coming for you.

“Don’t forget what Mr. Hawthorne said,” said Alice suddenly.

Bree frowned, trying to remember which quotation from The Scarlet Letter her friend meant.

“‘Do anything…’” Alice began, and Bree’s heart lifted.

“‘Do anything,’” she recited, “‘save to lie down and die.’”

“A dear friend once told me that,” said Alice, wiping her eyes. “I’m still trying to determine if she was wise or foolish, in the end.”

For the first time in days, when Bree laughed, it felt neither heavy nor forced. “You know,” she said, “I think you’d get along with him rather well. Once you got to know him. My…friend.”

Alice raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know about that. He frightened me, at first. And the way he curses!” Still, her lips turned upwards. Slightly. “Perhaps I shall have to take your word for it.”

Interrupting the contemplative silence that fell between them, Dr. Armstrong approached. Although he retained his usual mild demeanour, he seemed pleased. “You’re smiling, Mrs. Breanna.” If Alice found it indecorous that he referred to Bree by her first name rather than her last, she did not say so, although her mouth twitched. “I’m delighted to see that. Your friend’s visit has done you good.”

“Yes,” said Bree, praying he could not detect a suspicious amount of exuberance in her expression. “It certainly has.”

“You’re a doctor here?” asked Alice, getting to her feet.

Imperturbable and unoffended as ever, the doctor merely said, “I’m Dr. Armstrong, assistant physician.”

With sparks in her eyes, Alice strode up to him, held out her hand for a shake, and said, “Dr. Armstrong, my name is Alice Wright, the wife of Major Roger Merritt Wright of the 34th Regiment, and I would like to return to your hospital for a visit of a different sort. I noticed you have a lovely piano in the corner there, and I was touched by how—er—pleasing it was to have some music this afternoon.”

Bree blinked, wondering where Alice was leading this conversation, for no one with any taste would find the nurse’s playing pleasing to the ear.

“I was thinking,” Alice went on before he could interject, “of how nice it would be if I returned with a—erm—friend to play some music for the patients here. Might we discuss this?”

“Oh…” Dr. Armstrong appeared to give her proposition earnest consideration. “I suppose we could bring it to Dr. Richards and see what he says.”

“Splendid,” said Alice. “I’m sure he’ll agree that it would be ever such a nice thing to do. Music is simply delightful for the soul, isn’t it?”

Dr. Armstrong agreed, sending an affectionate look toward the shabby piano.

“Do you play, doctor?” Bree asked, a little surprised and genuinely curious.

“Well, not anymore,” he said, and she was rendered quite astonished, almost charmed, when his face turned red.

“Oh, but you did!” said Alice delightedly. “Why, then we simply must arrange this visit! Please, Dr. Armstrong, take me to see Dr. Richards right away.” Without giving him a chance to refuse, Alice gave Bree one quick embrace, bade her farewell, and led him toward the door. The sound of her airy laughter drifted away, more beautiful than any music.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone.

Bree stood still, heart pounding and hands tingling. Had that really just happened? Had Alice been there, slipped her an Iustitia aecum coin, promised to help her, and then vanished? It seemed impossible.

Yet the coin in her stocking insisted that something had been set in motion, a firm foundation laid.

For a plan.

For, she dared to hope, the plan that would see her once again set free.

***

If Bree went to dinner with her heart soaring, it did not take long for it to plummet.

“Madam Lawbreaker had a visitor today,” said Miss Dugford loudly toward upon seeing Bree. “Didn’t you, Mrs. Hatchett? Did you have a simply lovely time with your friend?”

Biting down hard on the tip of her tongue, Bree nodded and brace herself for whatever stinging remark or hissed innuendo was coming her way.

“I’m astonished,” said Miss Dugford. “The poor girl must not know what manner of people you associate with the rest of the time. Did you deceive her, too?”

Bree ignored her. Finding her prey dissatisfactory, Miss Dugford turned away, shifting her attention to a younger girl instead.

“Look at this! How shameful,” she said mockingly, pointing to the girl’s half-eaten meal. “You must eat up. It’s not healthy to eat so little, you know. And it’s so terribly ungrateful of you to leave half your food on the plate.”

The girl stared down in distaste at her lump of boiled beef, mumbling, “I’ve eaten my fill.”

“Are you quite sure about that?” Miss Dugford sighed dramatically and addressed another nurse. “These rich girls, wasting food like it’s nothing. Disgraceful!” She tutted, and the girl’s face flushed deeply, her eyes filling with tears. “Or perhaps her condition is worsening. A healthy young girl in her right mind wouldn’t refuse such a meal, would she?”

The girl ducked her head and said nothing. A tear dripped off her chin, splashing against the wooden tabletop.

“A woman in her right mind wouldn’t go anywhere near this meal,” Bree said.

Sharp intakes of breath up and down her table reminded her that talking back to any of the nurses, but especially this one, was ill-advised. At the moment, however, Bree didn’t care. She didn’t want Nurse Dugford’s attention, either, of course. But the poor girl looked so forlorn. So helpless.

If no one ever said anything, then what would it take to make that horrid woman hold her tongue?

“How extraordinarily impolite!” said Miss Dugford, crossing her arms. “Didn’t you ever learn to mind your own business? Really, Mrs. Hatchett, you ought to be a bit more agreeable. More grateful. You’ve been given such a lovely place to stay while our kind doctors do their best to cure you of your nympho—” She paused dramatically. “Well, as I have a sense of propriety, I won’t say it here.”

Bree’s throat threatened to close up and choke the very words out of her. But instead of fixating on her atrocious meal, she looked up and met Miss Dugford’s gaze. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. Perhaps you should say it.”

The nurse merely clicked her tongue and drifted away. “See? She is a hopeless case.”

“Don’t do anything untoward,” Mrs. Strickland said, clinging to her arm. No doubt she could see Bree’s fingers clenching into fists. “You’ll only regret it.”

Bree forced her breaths to calm.

It was a relief when Dr. Armstrong, making his rounds through the room, paused next to her, a smile on his face. “I must say, Mrs. Wright was very persuasive. We shall have a concert tomorrow.”

“What wonderful news!” she said, her mood buoyed by the sudden smiles beaming around her. “That will be lovely, I’m sure.” For everyone, of course, but especially, if Alice’s whisper was any indication, for her.

Oblivious to the plot he’d unwittingly abetted, Dr. Armstrong smiled again, lightly patted her hand, and moved on.

From where she stood, Miss Dugford watched them with her eyes narrowed. Bree threw her an indignant glare, resolving to keep her spirits undampened.

In this endeavour, she was successful—until it came time to exit the dining room, when Miss Dugford slithered toward her again.

“You seem quite taken with Dr. Armstrong,” she said coolly. “Everyone sees it.” Beneath the glow of the gas lights, her green eyes glittered menacingly. “How terribly improper. He’s a physician. A professional. Are you looking for special treatment or something?”

“I’m not taken with anyone,” Bree said through gritted teeth. “He was just telling me about tomorrow’s concert.”

Something about today felt different; a crueller gleam burned in Miss Dugford’s gaze.

Bree knew she should duck her head and walk away. The coin in her stocking whispered to her softly: if only she could hold out, suffer just a little longer, her imprisonment would soon be over, and the gaping hole in her heart would soon be filled.

Miss Dugford giggled, shrill and girlish—more a caterwaul, a banshee’s scream. “Well, I’m no doctor, but it certainly seems to me that you’re utterly incurable. Married to such a prominent, respectable gentleman with a good job, then running off with a thief? Now throwing yourself at Dr. Armstrong? Why, there’s no fixing such deplorable promiscuity, is there?”

Hot, tingling prickles swept up and down Bree’s entire body.

“Your poor husband,” Miss Dugford sneered. “And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but your poor crook, too. I wonder what they’d say, seeing how you conduct yourself in here. No wonder your constable hasn’t come to visit.” Her head tilted to the side. “And your thief, well, he can’t, can he? He’d be arrested before he made it through the gates.”

Bree heard Mrs. Strickland calling her—Let’s go. Come away. Go on to bed.

“Be quiet,” Bree said, “and leave me alone.”

“But you know…” Miss Dugford continued, still tittering. “Supposing he could. Perhaps he wouldn’t be surprised at all. A man like that, straight from the gutter—why, I’m sure he’s very used to whores and trollops. Just like y—”

The slap of Bree’s palm against Miss Dugford’s cheek echoed through the entire dining room.

Aside from the gasps of alarm that rose among the women who had borne witness, there was only silence.

“How dare you?” Bree demanded. “You don’t know a single thing about me.”

“Did you see that?” Miss Dugford screeched. “You all saw that, right? She hit me!”

“Mrs. Hatchett, really!” one of the other women said. Perhaps it was Mrs. Strickland, horrified, disappointed. Perhaps it was someone else. Bree didn’t care.

Because Miss Dugford, clutching a hand to her bright red cheek, opened her big mouth again.

“Looks like Mrs. Hatchett’s time consorting with the scum of the earth was even more influential than we thought.” Her face contorted into a grimace—animalistic, bloodthirsty. “Were you always a violent little cow, destined to end up here from the start, or was it that Wardrew man who taught you?”

The name no one else was supposed to know struck Bree more fiercely than any blow.

Bree did not realize she had leapt for Miss Dugford until two pairs of arms grabbed her and dragged her away.

“How do you know his name?” It was her voice, she knew, crying out like that, but it came from somewhere far away, impossibly far. The voice of a woman gone feral, panicked and overcome.

And trapped.

Miss Dugford couldn’t know Will’s name, yet she did. Which meant that someone, somewhere, had told the police, and the police had told the rest of the world. Was it Jamie? Had he buckled under the pressure Will had suffered so keenly to withstand? Had someone else informed on IA? Or—worst of all—had the others been caught?

What if, at that very moment, Will was in chains again?

“How do you know?” she cried, tears already streaming down her cheeks.

“Everyone knows!” Miss Dugford snarled, scrambling away. “Wardrew, Marks, Haris! You just haven’t heard because you’re locked up like the bloody lunatic you are!”

Every name—revealed.

All her allies—doomed.

“That’s quite enough!” Dr. Richards bellowed, but Bree barely heard him.

She had consoled herself with the conviction that even if every constable was looking for a man with red-brown hair, hazel eyes, a tattoo, and a price on his head, Will was still protected by his anonymity, and that his name and whatever history remained attached to it would stay hidden long enough for him to get away.

But if everyone knew…

Something pricked her arm. It hurt—but it paled in comparison to the ache inside her soul.

“To your room at once, Mrs. Hatchett,” said Dr. Richards coldly, as a pair of nurses urged her to walk.

They didn’t understand. They couldn’t.

“Perhaps she is mad after all,” said Mrs. Strickland sadly. “She seemed such a sharp little thing.”

How could any of them understand?

“Come on now, Mrs. Hatchett,” a nurse said. “Don’t fight us. We’re here to help you. We know you’re upset. You’ll be all right soon. Just come along.”

It was not until she was almost at her room that Bree realized she felt strange. Not the kind of strange that came with having her soul shredded to ribbons—that remained.

No, this sensation was unfamiliar—limbs growing heavy and weak. Eyes growing dim. Mind growing foggy.

“What did you do?” she whispered. “I feel…”

“I know, lamb,” said the nurse, patting her cheek. “You were distraught, and violent, and you slapped Miss Dugford, didn’t you? That wasn’t kind, but anyone can see you’re suffering. You need rest. The chloral will help you sleep, that’s all, and you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“And then we shall have a conversation about standards of behaviour in this hospital.” Dr. Richards’ voice. Drifting from somewhere behind them.

“Are you with it enough to get into your nightgown?” the nurse asked. “Or do you need help?”

“Don’t touch me,” Bree said. She was crying. Was she? She wasn’t certain. She had been so happy. So hopeful. Earlier. Why? Alice. Colette. Music. A plan.

That Wardrew man. Everyone knows. Whore. Trollop. Bloody lunatic.

“Please leave me alone,” she sobbed when the nurse drew closer. “Don’t touch me. Don’t.”

The invisible spectre of Dr. Richards sighed heavily. “Just wait until she’s out,” he said. “Then you can finish up and help calm everyone else down.”

“Please,” Bree said. “Please. Please.” What was she crying for? Pleading for? She wasn’t certain.

She was so tired.

“You’ll be all right, Mrs. Hatchett.”

A lie, Bree knew, but the room faded, and she knew nothing more.

Previous | Masterlist | Next (on ao3)

Taglist (please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!)

✨ @starlit-hopes-and-dreams | @clairelsonao3 | @gala1981 | @pleasestaywithmedarling | @kixngiggles ✨

[bekandrew]

"Gather 'Round the Trashfires," a Deviant: the Renegades horror/comedy fiction podcast Sun, 05 May 2024 14:45:00 +0000

Zuse has a quest for the cohort with totally, definitely, no fine print. The cohort goes on a shopping trip and learns they're not alone in the world.

They do NOT, however, learn how to collectively pass the bread test.

As an announcement, this podcast is officially moving to release every other week. Release day will still USUALLY be on Saturday unless, like this week, everything possible goes wrong up to and including having to rerecord 3 hours of raw audio.

Follow my Patreon at Patreon.com/BekAndrewTTRPG Check out my other work at linktr.ee/bekandrew Check out the Intro and Outro artists' Bandcamps! https://theavantist.bandcamp.com/music https://troigo.bandcamp.com/ Remember to subscribe and see y'all next week! Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/gather-round-the-trashfires/donations Transcript: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1cNTPsi32ltxNWQK6TGcjWzzn1g8gL1KK/view?usp=sharing

[atropabelladonna1692]

╰ *ੈ✎‧₊˚ Bread's Socials !

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┆☆ - Insta; atropabelladonna_666

┆𐙚 Youtube; Atropa_Belladonna666

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CREDIT TO @neversam FOR MAKING THIS POST!!

[acertainmoshke]

Redoing the Intro One More Time!

Updated 9/30/23

Call me Moshke Palmoni (they/them). I spend as much time as I can writing, but that is not as much as it might be because there's also a lot of life going on right now. I also like to read, knit, collect vintage ephemera, and play with my cat.

General WIP tag list: [your url here!]

Active WIPs:

7 Days for Fae

Coming October 2024

10-year-old Fae is isolated by her disabilities—autism and ataxia—that causes her communication and mobility issues. She doesn’t have any friends her age, and she’s accepted that. She reads a lot and plays pretend in the forest at the end of the street. Her family loves her for who she is and so far that’s been enough. Until, that is, she meets the new kid. His name is Brownie and for reasons Fae can’t imagine he wants to be her friend no matter how weird or awkward she is. When he still invites her over after a meltdown in class gets her suspended for a week, she decides to take a risk and accept. The ensuing adventures are marred only by the other sudden change in her life—an aunt Fae barely knows has moved in with her family. She doesn’t know how to talk to Fae and, worse, refuses to accept Fae’s nonbinary parent’s identity. But since no one else seems to know how to deal with the mess their home life has become, Fae tries—with Brownie’s encouragement—to sort the situation out herself.

Cold Iron

In 1956, Shakatra Zoawin is 40. Or they might be 20, depending on how you look at it. They are a changeling and their aging is kind of weird, but that doesn't matter to them because they have a good life in the subway tunnel with their brother, Kris. Both of them are changelings swapped as infants for human children and then rejected by their human families. Their wits and powerful magic have kept them alive this long, and Shaka is perfectly content to keep going. After they do one little thing to appease their guilt: find the 40-year-old they were swapped for and free her to have her own life in the human world free from servitude in the courts of the Fae. And so begins an adventure that will have repercussions neither of them could have imagined.

Intro posts for the books in this series: Cold Iron, City of Frost, Song on Repeat, and Future Not Found

Character Intro Posts: Shakatra, Kris, Lynn, Tatiana, Liliana, Harry, Doug, Beth, Aaron, Cassie, and Althea

Tag list: @pga-books

Blades of Ice

In the kingdom of Halara, orcs and elms and slimes and centaurs live peacefully side-by-side with humans. Less peaceful is the relationship between Halara and their neighboring kingdom of Eng. The generation-long conflict has drawn in other nearby kingdoms and stagnated artistic and social works. All Aryel ever wanted to do was be left alone to love who they want and practice sparring with their axe, but as a royal child they have responsibilities, namely leading the entire army. There's no talk of ending the war in any way but victory, just as Halara won its initial freedom from Eng 300 years ago, but this endless fighting is getting them nowhere but too many funerals and not enough bread. And then when a familial tragedy leads to Aryel leading both the army and the kingdom, they know they can't balance the tensions and demands of everyone at once and win this war. Something has to give, and they just hope it isn't the entire kingdom.

Backburnered and still-in-planning WIPs under the cut.

Time Traveling Anthropologists

(permanent title coming soon)

Set approximately 2 generations in the future. Esther Dahan has her dream job. She gets to time travel with her new team, and against all historical odds they are there to study ancient cultures rather than do anything violent. Their first assignment is 8 months in the 9th century Jewish kingdom of Khazaria. Everything is going great—illicit romance with a Khazarian blacksmith notwithstanding—until Esther finds a plate that doesn't belong in this time. Curious and suspicious but without enough evidence to involve her boss, she investigates on her own, discovering much more than she planned—and leading to far worse consequences than she could have imagined.

Tag list: @amielbjacobs @kingkendrick7 @moonluringfrost @another-white-hole

To Die Among the Stars:

20 people have been chosen to test the effects of faster-than-light space travel on human minds and bodies. They were taken from prisons, wellness centers, and other areas where near-certain death seemed like a reasonable chance to take. Each have their reasons for being there, and their secrets. Against all odds, the jump to FTL doesn't destroy the ship. But the further away from Earth they travel, the more strange things begin to happen that call the purpose of the experiment into question. And then the impossible: a human distress signal in deep space.

Told from 4 rotating perspectives: Pixel, a semiverbal illegal human modder; Ri, whose body and mind are overloaded with mods; Zippy, a young disabled woman desperate to support her family; and Peppermint, a genetic experiment combining human and cat DNA raised in an isolated lab.

Tag list: @hd-literature

Falling Petals

A multigenerational story about trauma, love, and disability set against the backdrop of one Jewish family. Beginning in the 1920's with Ira Katz, who is brilliant and charming with no understanding at all of tact or why the best way isn't always blunt observations and mean jokes. It follows him as he grows up, marries, and inherits his father's drugstore, and then moves on to following one of his sons, Daniel. Daniel grows up in the 1940's and is naturally gentle, kind, and sensitive, but is treated so harshly for these traits he learns to hide himself away inside and only show emotion in explosive bouts of anger. It follows him through adolescence, college, and marriage, before moving on to one of his daughters, Shoshana. Shoshana grows up in the 1960's and is colorful, young for her age, and full of social panic. None of them know how to relate to each other or survive in a world that each of them see the beauty in but aren't allowed to connect with in their own way. And yet through the pain and confusion, they are full of love. And then everything changes for them with Shoshana's niece, Naomi, growing up in the 1990's, who will not be allowed to see herself as broken.

[friedmicrowave]

first post 😔

i don’t think I need to do an intro post cause like,, you guys already know what I post

so uhm I’ll just start with what species the sprunkis probably are!!

1 - Durple

-SPECIES: Dragon/Reptile

-Carnivore, being a dragon lol

-If he couldn’t talk he could usually speak in clicks, roars, grunts, etc.

-Probably has a dragon hoard, since he likes collecting things

-A Drake/wyrm

2 - Oren

-SPECIES: Insect (Hornet/Wasp)

-Nectarivore/Omnivore

-His antennae can’t hear, but can smell or move around to express emotion

-His two visible eyes are compound eyes, the smaller ones are hidden

-FLUFFY!! (because BEE.)

3 - Pinki

-SPECIES: Bunny/Rabbit

-Honks whenever she’s happy, bunnies do that as well

-Herbivore

-One of the fluffiest sprunkis

-Would probably like cabbage/lettuce more than carrots.

4 - Simon

-SPECIES: Insect (Grasshopper/Katydid)

-Omnivore

-Due to being a grasshopper or katydid, he’s one of the fastest canonically!

-Actually has mandibles, they’re just retractable/hidable

-His mandibles also helped him rip off the chunk of Brud’s head in horror mode.

-Bites the sprunkis with his mandibles from time to time (harmlessly)

5 - Raddy

-SPECIES: Horned Lizard/Bearded Dragon

-Also as fast as Simon, they race together probably (and raddy would try to eat Simon as he is an insect)

-Would probably use his horns to stab in combat.

-Omnivore, but leaning to carnivore

-The most territorial and aggressive sprunki

6 - Clukr

-SPECIES: Rhinoceros Beetle

-Omnivore, leaning to herbivore

-The smartest sprunki, along with Garnold (they both built complex, sentient(?) robots)

-Would probably fight raddy mistaking him for a beetle sometimes

-Likes eating corn

7 - Garnold

-SPECIES: Insect (Hornet)

-Nectarivore/Omnivore

-Would fight Oren from time to time, in competition for the best flowers

-Not aggressive, but istg DO NOT LET HIM STING YOU.

-One of the smartest, along with Clukr

-Fuzzy, but not as much as Oren

8 - Jevin

-SPECIES: Insect (Ensign Wasp)

-Nectarivore/Omnivore

-Not aggressive, and doesn’t use his sting or mandibles in combat. (Ensign wasps do not sting in real life.)

-Could easily drown if placed in deep water, being an insect

-Gets attacked by Oren or Garnold while feeding

-Doesn’t attack back in many situations, and just skedaddles if intimidated

-9: Sky

-SPECIES: Sun Bear (Juvenile)

-Don’t ask me where his mother or father went, not making lore for that

-Fluffy.

-Likes salmon and cod, able to catch them by himself

-Loves sleeping

10 - Tunner (I ALMOST FORGOT MY BABY 😭😭)

-SPECIES: Unknown, but a hybrid of reptile and mammal.

-A mix of scavenger and omnivore.

-Faster than the average sprunki, but not as fast as Simon or Raddy

-His species lives in deserts, that’s why they have large ears

-Has the best hearing out of any sprunki, due to his four ears

11 - Wenda

-SPECIES: Cat (White Shorthair)

-A little mischievous dumbahh who steals Gray’s kills

-Carnivore

-Grew up with barking sprunki species, so she doesn’t meow a lot

-Does NOT like gray. She hisses whenever he approaches (if he even does)

12 - Gray

-SPECIES: Melanistic Fox

-HATES Wenda, will run away if he encounters her

-Grew up with cats, but still yelps and barks

-Eats mice and birds, but they get stolen by Wenda sometimes

-fluffy as well.

13 - Brud

-SPECIES: Pigeon

-Can’t fly, he’s too dumb to know how to use his own wings.

-Pecks the ground from time to time

-Eats anything that he thinks is edible

-Loves bread and moss

14 - Black

-SPECIES: Insect (Bullet Ant)

-Wasn’t evil at all, his venom was just able to infect people he stung in fear. (and he was a freaking scaredy cat)

-His venom somehow also made the dead characters still live and create music.

15 - Vineria

SPECIES: Insect (General Beetle)

-Herbivore

-Kinda feels guilty when she eats plants, she loves nature

-A literal Rapunzel when encountering birds

-Eats her wig sometimes

16 - OWACKX

-SPECIES: Hedgehog

-Head quills are the most longest, sharpest and venomous

-Really scared of almost everything

-Omnivore

-Stole one of Vineria’s wigs

-Has ADHD

welp that’s it

OML THE TAGSSS 😭😭

[evilkagaminetwins]

⧣₊˚﹒✦₊ ⧣₊˚ 𓂃★ ⸝⸝ ⧣₊˚﹒✦₊ ⧣₊˚

𐔌(๑﹏๑;)꣓〝₎₎ Rin's Intro !! ✦₊ ˊ˗ . .

╭∪─∪────────── ✦ ⁺.

✮┆🍊 ﹐ Names : Rin / Nichi / Lemmy / Vin ᯓ★

✮┆🍣 ꜝꜝ Age : 16 ౿

✮┆🦊 𐔌 Pronouns : He .ᐟ They .ᐟ It .ᐟ Shi ꣓

✮┆🍹 ⌒(>_<) Sexuality : Bigender Libramasc Saphillian Dualrose 𖦹

✮┆🏵️ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Likes : Bread, Pokemon, South Park(I don't support or condone!), Scott Pilgrim, Atsuover, TBHK, Vocaloid, ↻

✮┆🪸 ᛝ Dislikes : Alternative Rock, NewGen "fans" that only like 2% of the content ᓚᘏᗢ

✮┆🦐 ◟ Extra : Osdd sys, Audhd+Narcolepsy ⸝⸝

╰───────────── ✦ ⁺.

(｡•ㅅ•｡)〝₎₎ Len's Intro !! ✦₊ ˊ˗ . .

╭∪─∪────────── ✦ ⁺.

✮┆🍌﹐ Names : Len, Rei, Kim, Tweek ᯓ★

✮┆🌻 ꜝꜝ Age : 17 ౿

✮┆⭐ 𐔌 Pronouns : He .ᐟ She ꣓

✮┆🌼 ⌒(>_<) Sexuality : Bisexual 𖦹

✮┆🚸 ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Likes : South Park, Scott pilgrim, Gravity Falls, Mouthwashing ↻

✮┆🎗️ ᛝ Dislikes : weirdos , under 12 being social ᓚᘏᗢ

✮┆🎷 ◟ Extra : system! ⸝⸝ audhd bpd npd

╰───────────── ✦ ⁺.

૮(,,ᐢ _ ᐢ,,)ა ₎₎ Extra Info !! ✦₊ ˊ˗ . . ╭─∪─∪──── ──── ── ─ ─ -- ✦ ⁺.

✮┆What we do: uhhhgmmmm,,, we plan to post silly autistic thoughts in our silly little heads,,, maybe answering asks in character,,, BASICALLY EVERYTHING IN CHARACTRER,,,

✮┆Collective DNI: Radqueer, Pro-Endo(TraumaEndo is okay), Pro-Contact, Pro-Consent, Prohara Antiship, Dead Dove, Racist, Homophobic, Transphobic, PJSK Fandom ✮┆Account Blacklist: Qiekz/Qiekz art/redcat-sorceress(or just any account owned by Chelsea/Qiekz.) ╰──── ── ─ ─ -- ✦ ⁺.

⧣₊˚﹒✦₊ ⧣₊˚ 𓂃★ ⸝⸝ ⧣₊˚﹒✦₊ ⧣₊˚

[vampirethin27]

Blog Intro

⚠️TW!!: This Is An ED Blog. I'm Not Here To Be Harmful, Just Finding A Community, Scroll or Block If Uninterested⚠️

Hi! My name is Elliott, I'm 19 (it's my birthday as of posting this 🥳🎂🎉), and I've had disordered eating patterns for about a decade now and have been on ana blogs and things of the sort for like 7 years. I've had the blogs, the journals, the calculators, the screenshots as wallpapers, all the fun stuff

Name: Elliott (Lia/Eli)

Age: 19

Birthday: February 3rd

Gender: Genderfluid

Pronouns: Varies Between She/He/It, Usually Present Semi-Feminine No Matter What Though

Sexuality: Bisexual

Mental Diagnoses: Anorexia, Bipolar, Anxiety, Autism (😎), and probably PTSD, I haven't checked but reputable sources keep telling me to

I also have POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome), which is a chronic illness that basically spikes me with adrenaline when a positional change happens, like rolling from my left to right side in bed or going from sitting down to stand up, and other stuff like my vision blurs and I run out of breath easily. Look it up, there's so many random fucking things that can be POTS and you'd never know it it's insane

Anywho, now for the actual fun stuff!

My Stats

Weight

Height: 156.6cm

HW: 142lbs

SW: 105lbs

CW: 99lbs

LW: 97lbs

GW: 95lbs

UGW: 90lbs

Measurements

Thigh (R): 52cm (20.4in)

Thigh (L): 51.5cm (20.25in)

Hips: 82cm (32.25in)

Waist: 64cm (25in)

Underbust: 72cm (28in)

Bust: 83.5cm (32.75in)

Overbust: 80cm (31.25in)

Wrist (L): 15cm (5.75in)

Wrist (R): 15cm (5.75in)

Bicep (L): 24.5cm (9.5in)

Bicep (R) 26cm (10in)

My Current Favorite Thinspo

KEY

(for those of you who are maybe new to ED Tumblr and aren't sure what I'm saying)

Ana: Anorexia Nervosa

Mia: Bulimia Nervosa

Coe: Compulsive Over-eating disorder

Ednos: Eating disorder not otherwise specified

BED: Binge eating disorder.

ED: Eating disorder

SI: Self injury

AnaMia: Having both anorexia and bulimia

Pro-ana: This term infers being pro-active in the ED community, usually online. It does not mean promote ED's in any way, shape or form.

Thinspiration: Collection of thin looking peoples pictures, used to inspire those with ana/mia. Can also be text scenarios/imagines

Anorectic/Anarexyc: One who has anorexia. There's a billion variants of it

CW: Current weight.

HW: Highest weight.

LW: Lowest weight.

GW: Goal Weight.

SW: Starting weight.

GW1: First goal weight. (implying a GW2, etc.)

UGW: "Ultimate"/Final goal weight.

IP: In patient.

BMI: Body Mass Index.

And Memes <33

I can't fit more photos than this, but that's the rundown of me!

I'm currently on my way to eat dumplings, sushi, and sashimi for my birthday dinner because I have a sushi obsession.

It has resulted in an adjacent raw fish obsession because... well, here's a list of things that make my POTS symptoms worse (food wise)

• spice

• sugar

• gluten

• dairy

• eating too many carbs in a day

• eating too fast

• eating too much

• not eating often enough

So I avoid most things, specifically bread when it's unnecessary and dairy all the time

Also, last thing I swear, EGGS AREN'T DAIRY

THEY'RE NOT

WHO THE FUCK PUT EGGS IN THE DAIRY SECTION???

Hydrate or Diedrate, have a good my birthday <33

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Ascalaphus (Kingdom of Ichor)

Nicknames- My boy by Acheron

Darling by Orphne

Age- 17 (immortal)

Location- The Underworld

Personality- He's a broody yet eccentric young god who loves intellectual pursuits, gothic aesthetics, & a deep appreciation for classic literature and art. He's currently single.

He has the standard abilities of a god. His other powers/abilities include limited chlorokinesis (as it pertains to plants & flowers native to the Underworld), limited necromancy, being able to communicate with/shapeshift into a screech owl, limited umbrakinesis (shadow manipulation), and limited hydrokinesis (as it pertains to the waters of his father's river).

Ascalaphus is the only child of his parents- Acheron (Titan god of pain) & Orphne, a lampade.

He lives with his parents at their mansion in the Underworld. Ascalaphus' room is on the third floor. The bedroom door is built out of blackwood & there's also a terrace where he can overlook his father's river. The flooring is black marble while the walls are brimstone- covered in posters of his favorite bands, singers, movies, and deities. Instead of a laptop, there's an antique typewriter. In his room there's a simple trundle bed covered in dark blue satin pillows & black quilts, white onyx shelves for his book collection, as well as his blue-black iCHOR Tech wireless speaker that's automatically connected to Musify.

Ascalaphus is his father's twin with their olive skin, brown-black eyes, and facial features with the only difference being their frames. Acheron has a lean muscular build while his son has a bit more muscle. He feels like his mother feels left out because she doesn't look like them with her brilliant dark blue eyes, dark obsidian skin, and thick curly hair.

He's fluent in Latin.

He keeps his ink black hair short & shaggy.

Ascalaphus has a few tattoos- large owl wings on his back, a pair of dark blue eyes (dedicated to his mom) on the inside of his left wrist, a skull surrounded by black dahlias on his right arm, and the quote "What nourishes me destroys me" written in latin on his left pec. His good friend Achlys (goddess of the death mist, poison, misery, & sadness) did the tattoos.

A go-to drink for him is beer. He also likes red wine, pomegranate brandy, his dad's jallab, his mom's homemade blackberry iced tea, ginger ale, hot chocolate, black tea, mineral water, and cola.

Ascalaphus primarily writes in cursive.

For breakfast he'll typically go to a corner store to get a sausage, egg, & cheese on a hero on toasted rye bread. If he's gonna be on time for school, he'll have a bowl of steel cut oats topped with dark chocolate chips and maple syrup, a bowl of Earthly Harvest raisin crunch cereal, or his mom's omelette- added with black olives, mushrooms, & ghost peppers.

Ascalaphus loves listening to classical, synth pop, folk, rock, heavy metal, rap, and death metal music. His favorite musical artists to listen to are Moros (god of doom), O, & the death metal rap band Death Theater- comprising of Hades, Charon (Ferryman of the Underworld), his friend Hypnos (god of sleep), and Thanatos (god of death). He also thinks that Pale Blu isn't too bad either.

He's currently a freshman at Polydegmon University, the most prestigious college in the Underworld. Ascalaphus has a full ride- a four year scholarship, thanks in part to his father as well as the king. He doesn't live on campus, an agreed compromise with his parents. Even though it's too early to declare a major, Ascalaphus is thinking about majoring in botany or art history.

Thus far his favorite class has been his gothic literature class taught by his professor- a lampade named Ms. Whiteveil. The sound of her velvet smooth voice while she reads poems and short passages automatically calms him.

He loves snacking on ash plum flavored gummy spiders. He also likes spicy mushroom flavored kettle cooked potato chips & black anise licorice twists.

Ascalaphus has a job of sorts. He tends to the garden of the king of the Underworld, Hades (god of the dead). The orchard is primarily filled with black dahlias, frost orchids, black thorned roses, and shadow blossoms. He actually likes working in the garden. It's one of the few moments where Ascalaphus is alone with his thoughts for self-reflection. He also doesn't mind the company of the king. Hades will bring him a small cup of dark roast coffee or will lend Ascalaphus a book from his extensive library.

He also earns extra money by picking up groceries for Geras (god of old age) & by dog-sitting Cerberus sometimes.

There's a small restaurant downtown in Plouton Square that makes the best jjajangmyeon (noodles & diced pork in black bean sauce). It's a frequent takeout order for him.

All though Ascalaphus loves his parents, he feels like they're keeping him on a tight leash, especially his father. They didn't even want him to live on campus in a dorm and they especially don't want him to leave or travel out of the Underworld to any of the other realms- Olympius in particular. The Realm of Darkness is all he ever knows and Ascalaphus just wants the chance to experience something new, something different.

At school his social circle consists of cyclopes named Osric, Sybil, & Quintessa (Tessa for short), a harpy named Xerxes, a lampade named Azura (a botany major), as well as mortals named Caspian (a art history major), Rosalind, and Venetia.

Ascalaphus in undecided about whether or not to join the University's fraternity. Osric is a member.

Outside of school he's real good friends with Theodon (god of reality, uncertainty, & fate). They hang out together all the time. They smoke weed sometimes (through use of a Stygian Iron bong) & Ascalaphus will invite Theo to play basketball with him, Osric, Xerxes, and Caspian every weekend at Shadowstone Park. Theodon even tagged along to Ascalaphus' first college party!

He really liked going to the film premier of Blooddancer with Theodon. Ascalaphus even got to briefly meet the director of the film Keres (goddess of violent death). The photo of them meeting is framed & on his dresser. He also saved the ticket stubs!

In the pantheon he's also friends with Despoina (goddess of the arcadian mysteries, frost, winter, & shadows).

Also in the pantheon Ascalaphus respects and admires Nyx (goddess of the night) Erebus (god of darkness), as well as his "honorary" aunts & uncles, the other Underworld river deities- Phlegethon (Titan god of fire), Lethe (Titaness of forgetfulness, oblivion, & concealment), Styx (Titaness of hatred), and his godfather Cocytus (Titan god of wailing & lamentation).

He also admires Favian (god of philosophy) & is a fan of his steampunk historical fantasy book series The Machinery of Alchemists.

The iCHOR Tech soundproof headphones are great when Ascalaphus is working on an assignment or blocking out the sounds of his parents' lovemaking.

Sometimes (without his parents knowing), Ascalaphus will travel out-of-realm to Olympius to pick up Theodon from school. He pretends not to care as Theo drones on and on about a fellow schoolmate Heimarmene (Marnie) (goddess of shared fate). One day while Ascalaphus was waiting for Theo where he noticed him walking down the school's steps with Marnie and another girl. He thought she looked like winter's light with her flawless pale skin and shimmery silver eyeshadow on her eyelids. Her smile was just as bright as she tucked away strands of her short bouncy golden light brown hair behind her hair. When Ascalaphus asked Theo about her when he got in the car, he said that she was Marnie's best friend Eiresione (Ren) (goddess of offerings).

His favorite frozen treat is dark chocolate ice cream topped with pomegranate syrup, dark chocolate chips, and whipped cream.

His favorite dessert is his mom's black rum cake. She makes it every year for his birthday and on the Winter Solstice.

Ascalaphus is not ashamed about the fact that he's still a virgin. He wants to wait until he's emotionally connected with someone to have sex. He did make out with an empousa named Elidi at the college party.

His all time favorite meal is his dad's hearty lamb stew with saffron rice and his mom's scorched chicken.

In his free time Ascalaphus enjoys playing video games, reading, skateboarding, writing, snowboarding, gardening, skiing, ice hockey, cooking (with his parents), ink painting, going to museums, chess, listening to music, and going to the cinema. He's also been getting into photography.

"Owls inspire us to see beyond the darkness and find our own light."