#I hate blackberry brambles so much

[psalacanthea]

Yay! The lil plant that self-seeded in one of my herb pots is not, in fact, a rosemary, but lavender! I have no idea where he came from, but I'm very happy to see him. If I can get him to overwinter ok, I'll transplant him to the front garden.

My chives are self-seeding a leetle too aggressively, but that's chives for you. I just need to harvest the blossoms for a while instead of letting them dry. Good on salads, though!

My thyme that died in last year's heatwave has only come back about a quarter of the way, and my sad little sage plant is still hanging on, but the mint's having a good time. OFC the mint always has a good time.

NGL, I've been thinking of saying screw it and filling my borders with mint in the hopes that it'd choke out any blackberry brambles the birds keep seeding all over my garden.

[charlunday]

i would love to hear all of your third toastbaby thoughts please and thank you, he sounds delightful 🥺

Ask and you shall receive!

I honestly didn't think anyone would be that interested, but here we are. This is my idea about a third toast baby.

With my ideas for all their kids' names, I like to incorporate plants and local wildlife. Brambell comes from both the plant brambles (blackberries) while keeping the structure of the name Bramwell. However, this evolves into the nickname Bluebell, which becomes just Blue (and also baby Blue). Angsty preteen Blue hates this and insists his name is Brambell, Mama.

In agreement with @paintedpeeta , I think he was absolutely not planned at all. He's very close in age to his brother, maybe just under two years younger. (Meanwhile, I think Everlark waited somewhere around four years between baby #1 and baby #2, since that's Katniss and Prim's age difference)

So the two brothers, once they're a bit bigger, are constantly squabbling and brawling. This is shocking to Katniss, who at eight years old wouldn't have dreamt of throwing hands with her darling four year old sister. Peeta, on the other hand, scruffs them like kittens like it's any regular Tuesday. (I think he and his brothers were closer in age, and therefore very physical when it came to childhood disagreements)

Outside of that, baby Blue is all about his mama. Katniss wore all 3 of her babies, but the first two were too squirmy to continue that practice into toddlerhood. Blue, on the other hand, is happy to cling to her back and whisper to her while she does chores. He's definitely the most clingy of their kids.

He's also the most shy! As he grows up, he stays quite soft-spoken, preferring to communicate in judgy looks (like his mother).

As he grows up, he also bears a startling resemblance to Katniss' father.

Essentially, Peeta jokes about how Katniss hit copy and paste with her genetics, and he still isn't entirely sure she didn't create a clone. Except for his curly hair! I think all 3 of their kids have Peeta's curls because they're just that stubborn.

When it comes to skills and things, I think he and his brother take the best to shooting. He's stealthier, but his brother is the better marksman (and is quite arrogant about it). Their sister, much like Prim, does not have the stomach for hunting. She loves animals too much.

And finally, once they're all grown up, he's their tallest child. I think all of their kids outgrow their Mama, but Blue is the only one that outgrows Peeta. Just by a hair. He's tall, thin, wiry, a good tree climber.

Anyway, thanks for reading all this! I think about him a lot, as you can tell. I hope you all enjoy him, too.

[blackberrybrambles]

Oh, I see!

So to Sun and Moon, they are applying a punishment equivalent to the crime. (And to the following you don't need to answer because you've said you want the Blackberries stuff written as a story post but I'm just gonna give some thoughts hehe). So the punishment is one year per Berry, and it involves taking care of the forest, so I'm just wondering if it has to do with the well-being of the nature around them in general, at least what consists of the fae territory. Hmmm, I really wonder about the loss of identity part, and if that serves it's purpose or if that is just the part to pay for the offense and anger caused towards the two fae for getting them in trouble.

And since this is still a x reader story I'm very curious on how the relationships will advance! I'm guessing at first "Briar" will just feel... very hated XD The coldness of the hosts seem to make that clear, even if they are supposed to care for the snatched human now. And if that grab from Sun earlier really did bruise them, they will feel very unsafe for a good while. And lonely. Very lonely.

Also, I do wonder if they will come to regret that pain, or if because they are following their ways as fae, it's just something they will remain firm about. I can see "Briar" growing used to their new life, only for a couple of years to have how much they truly lost sinking in once again and cause them a good bit of grief. I don't know if forgetting about other things like it happened with their name is something that might occur, but the knowledge that they forgot must also be really painful.

So I do wonder how that might go, when some care has been established between the three of them and old pain resurfaces with a vengeance.

Oh, and I'm so curious about Eclipse! Since he comes in after a good while of Briar having been there, and is polite enough to Moon, could he turn into a potential friend for Briar if the relationship with Sun and Moon is just polite still? He wouldn't have a motive to be mad at the reader right? Unless blackberries are so important that all fae would be mad about that regardless XD

More fun questions!

You're right on the money in guessing that the berries, by and large, play part in keeping the Fae territory safe!

As for taking the reader's name (Aka, her identity); that's actually the main part of how they trap her in the Fae Realm. By taking her name and giving her a new one, they basically put an enchantment upon "Briar", assuring that she'll remain trapped in their realm. If she should ever manage to get her name back, she can escape.

And you're right to assume that there's a fair amount of negativity in the relationship, at the start. Particularly from Moon (who we've already seen is quicker to fly off the handle than Sun, who did his best to remain kind and polite all the way up until the Reader attempted to disobey and leave). The way its mapped out, Sun is generally nicer while not hiding the fact that he is angry. But as Briar has already been given their punishment, he is doing his best to keep from being any more cruel than he already has by trapping her in the Fae Realm and forcing her to work. Moon is the one more prone to losing his temper flat out, but outside of some verbal abuse and generally being scary, he never seriously hurts Briar (and if he does do physical harm, its largely unintentional). By and large, it takes YEARS for the anger to soften and for Briar and the Fae to start developing a positive relationship (which is why Blackberry Brambles isn't meant to follow a set linear story, but would, ideally, just consists of stories of them in the realm throughout various points in time). Once that positive relationship starts to develop, everything softens. And she starts to learn things about the Fae that largely wouldn't be made obvious otherwise.

There are definitely moments where Briar will be faced with the fact that she's trapped in this place and the world she once knew is moving on without her. The people she once knew are growing older, or even dying. No one knows where she went. And by the time she's set free, there won't be anyone left who will know her. The instant that she set foot in the Fae Realm, her life was gone. And that's a painful thing to think about.

But once the group are on more positive terms, they do show genuine care for Briar. This isn't to say that they wouldn't have tried to protect her from the start, but the closer they grow emotionally, the more meaningful it is to be comforted.

And Eclipse, by and large, is free game to be befriended or made into a lover. He has no reason to view the Reader in a negative light, and by the time he turns up, its established that she's under protection of Sun and Moon. So even if he had some sort of problem with her (and he doesn't) he'd know better than to act upon his negative feelings. By and large, Eclipse will turn up and be a tense acquaintance for a while before eventually establishing himself as a trustworthy ally.

[zeestarfishalien]

[Haha... I wrote a thing. I'm so sorry]

Content Warning: Unreliable Narrator, Child Endangerment (fictional)

It doesn’t matter how much he improves or what he achieves, Danyal will never be enough. Even at the tender age of 10, he knows this. Yet all it takes for him to melt into Mother’s touch is one softly crooned, “habibi.”

Love is a lie, a tool used to manipulate others into doing what you desire them to do. Danyal knows this too, but he wants to believe the lie. Just for a little bit. For what will likely be his last hours on this earth, his life given in service of the Demon Head’s Heir.

None of the clones are anywhere near ready enough for this. Not a one could pass for 10 year-old Damian al Ghul. Even if they had been big enough to pass for him in looks, none would hold skill anywhere near the necessary amount to be mistaken for him in a fight.

Is it a bad thing that Danyal is just a little happy about that? He’s the only one worthy enough to go through this farce with Mother, to receive her soft words and even softer touch.

He’s a little happy.

The conditions they’re traveling in are harsh. It’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before and they have to make their act convincing; a mother trying to protect her son at all costs.

He sleeps in the special colored contacts. It doesn’t matter if they damage his eyes (more proof that Mother doesn’t actually care about him), their lie is more important.

~*~

Blackberry brambles snag at his clothes, costing him precious milliseconds.

“Habibi, hurry!” At Mother’s words he shoves down the burning weight on his lungs and pushes faster. He’s forgotten what it’s like for his muscles not to burn with fatigue. He keeps pace at her heels as they sprint through the damp and darkening forest of the Pacific Northwest. There’s a boat waiting for them, if they can make it to the beach. Half of Mother’s guard is trying to distract and mislead the assassins after them, the other half keep pace in the trees around them.

The underbrush is thick and it’s difficult for someone as small as Danyal to shove through. He goes under it just as often as he goes over. It’s wet, it hasn’t rained recently, it’s just the fog off the sea settling into dew on every branch and leaf. It’s becoming harder and harder to track which of the footsteps are Mother’s guard and which are assassins closing in for the kill.

There’s something…

He dives through a hole in the underbrush on his right, likely made by wildlife, and nearly tumbles into a small ravine. Water cuts through the dirt and rock, trickling towards the ocean with great determination. He hates the way he scrabbles in some vain attempt to climb back up to safety (Mother). There’s no safety.

A shadow appears in his way. Throwing himself back, he falls nearly ten feet before catching himself on a fallen tree. Well, less catching himself and more breaking his momentum slightly. His next leap is slightly more controlled, still fleeing further down the ravine. (If he follows this, he’ll still reach the ocean. Hopefully mother will wait at least a few moments for him to catch up.)

The terrain here is worse than above, but it is also harder for an adult to chase him through. He is smaller and can slip through narrower gaps and under fallen trees. He is faster here than others would be. He can hear them crashing through the terrain behind him. He hopes they break their ankles.

But no, it’s a branch breaking under his foot that sends him tumbling into damp moss covered rocks. He’s clawing his way free even before the pain can hit. He doesn’t want to die here. He doesn’t want to die… His arm screams at him with every small movement he makes. He can’t stop. He won’t stop. There’s sand smeared on his face with the blood. He has to be close!

Shoving a branch of some big fern out of his way, he’s faced with only open air. In his attempt to stumble back from the edge, his foot slips and he’s free falling towards a pool of water.

He has just enough time to curl into a ball and cover his neck before he slams into something thicker than water.

“I’m obviously the better twin.”

“He’s obviously the better twin.”

Their combined words echoed across the cave far longer in the silence that followed their words than it felt like it should have. It was difficult to tell if any of the other bats and birds were even breathing.

A frown marred Damian’s face, despite having said the same harsh words as his twin. Danny saying the very same words left a sort of bitter taste in his mouth. It wasn’t even the words themselves but more the resignation and dismissal of his own worth that ate at Damian’s gut. Someone stabbing him would have hurt less than Danny’s next words.

“You don’t need someone like me. I’m not motivated enough and all that to be like you guys. I’d just get in the way.”

Dick, ever the one to try to find compromise, spoke up. “There’s more ways to help than just fighting…”

“Listen,” Danny interrupted, “it’s not like I’m dumb but I’m not a genius like you all. I suck at strategy and sitting around on my hands, the only thing I’m really good at is being cannon fodder or a distraction. I’m not competitive or ambitious and I’m certainly not about to start trying to be any of that. That ship has sailed and sunk.”

“Danny, I-“

“It’s fine Damian.” His bitter smile contradicted the words. “It’s important to know one’s own strengths and weaknesses, right?”

[thesmokingguns]

Blackberry Ink

Our love story is written in blackberry ink. Swirls of berry colored words with seeds for periods between our adventures.

Our lips were blackberry kisses. Teeth stained from picking berries from the nearby bushes, crushing them under our bodies as we found each other on dirt paths. Lips wet with juices, sweet from the snack of berries we picked and the taste of each other.

I used to trace hearts in the juice of crushed berries in the points of your shoulders all the way down to the crevice of your back. Over and over if I let my name swirl on your skin with wine colored stains from my crushed blackberry pen. You laid in the warm sun, wishing we could stay like this, that I could be this person for you all the time instead of sporadic visits.

Our love was short like blackberry season. It grew wild and over the top. One second I was in a cabin trying to detox and then there you were like a Norman Rockwell painting walking down barefoot to fish. We fell in love at the start of spring and by fall it was all thorns and brambles in our hearts. You wanted me at my best and hated who I was at my worst. You picked me when I was ripe but now I was rotten.

Sometimes, laying in bed in LA, I think of the one time you visited me here. The way your nose crinkled in disgust and how you walked around the mansion I had thrown too much money at and the silence that hung between us was noticeable. We made love in a bed and you didn’t seem to know what to do with all the space we had. So we just let it get between us.

One morning I found you, barefoot in the garden planting a blackberry bush in the corner, hands bleeding slightly from the sticky branches. You told me it was there so I wouldn’t forget it. It was at that point I realized we weren’t going to last. That this was your goodbye to me.

You stopped answering letters and when I went to visit you your cabin was bare of you, filled with just cans of blackberry jam. Preserving the best part of summer. I took three, I think you wanted me to have them because you knew I’d come back looking for you.

I eat it now on bread I learned to toast in an oven and think of that summer love affair. The sweetest love story always has the worst ending.

Taglist: @ayablackwood @rocknrollsoul76 @greeneyezblackheart @lady-jane3 @rocketgrrrl27 @slutforstradlin @theoutsiders25 @fispapercrafter @bbyamberx @brezeblog @samanthasgone @aggressive-slytherin @clover270 @grayxiu @another-obsessed-with-duff @badfvith @bia003 @queenbae18 @axl-roses-rose @d-ahliaa@beebemarie @guns-n-roses-gal @themoonbelongstome @pinksweetgirl18 @cemmia @bieberhoodforever

[creekfiend]

hi there, i hope this is not drastically out of line, but i watched your garden in bloom video, and is it possible that the rose that you hate is actually a different bramble such as a raspberry or blackberry? i'm no expert but the ovaries look much more like a rubus ovary than a developing rose hip. it would also explain why they spread so vigorously

No they're definitely roses 😅 I forget the name of them. But they are roses. Just not the super domesticated kind

[astringofmadhousefloozies]

The Birthday Fic

Several months in the making. Started around Ruggie’s birthday (Which is why he’s the opener) completed long past my own birthday.

Content warning for coarse language, sexuality, mentions of illness and the medication needed for managing it, and getting wildly horny to a point that even I was impressed with myself.

As always, there’s more in my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag, send me a message if you liked it! (I know what the birthday gifts were from most everyone, even if not mentioned in-fic.)

~*~*~*~

"I'm sorry dude, what did you say? You ears started going and I just tuned the fuck out."

"I said, 'when's it your turn to have the school-run birthday party?' It's got it be soon." Ruggie's intentionally twitching his damn ears, has to be, and you had to physically shield your eyes to be able to answer properly.

"I don't fucking know, man, I need to have a birthday for that."

"Everyone has a birthday."

"Yeah, but I don't know when mine is."

"Can't Crowley tell you? He's got all kind of magic."

You sighed. "He tried that, so I could remember my proper name. He can't even get a year fix."

"That fucking sucks, Yuu." Ruggie passed you a pop can before cracking open one himself. "You should get one of these, too."

"Ah, maybe Riddle will take pity and dedicate me a specific Unbirthday party." What was this, melon? Not bad.

"That's not the same because you won't get loot."

"Yeah, you wanna go through fifty boxes of chocolates to get rid of all the ones with potion-of-suck-your-dick? I'm good."

He scrunched his nose in disgust. "People still trying love spells on you?"

"Not as much, but I still get Mal to check them over for me. He's good about that."

"He just doesn't want to share."

"Shush."

"It's true!" He stopped for a moment. "Does he know you don't have a birthday?"

"He hasn't realized yet and you're not going to tell him."

~*~*~*~

"Yuu?"

"Trey?" You blinked up at him. You didn't talk as much as you'd like to, mostly because every time he showed up your mouth rapidly filled with whatever treat he'd just made.

"What do you like best for cake?"

"I will literally eat anything that you put in front of me if you make it, even if it's full of shit I hate."

He raised an eyebrow. "Okay, new angle. What don't you like?"

Oh boy, he better prepare himself. "Fondant tastes gross, modeling chocolate is white chocolate so I hate it, a cake should be cake and not mostly fucking icing and rice crispy treats, most icing's too heavy for me if it's not whipped cream- why are you writing this down."

He looked up from his notebook, blinking at you with his pleasing yellow eyes. "Because you always give thoughtful feedback to my baking and I want to make you something as a thank you."

"Oh. If that's it, I'd rather have cheesecake."

~*~*~*~

"Mon Trickster~"

"Rook, I'm trying to re-" You yelped as he squeezed your waist, and you swatted at him. "Fuck's gotten into you?"

"What, I cannot play with my sweet friend?" He'd dragged you from your seat in the library, and was now doing his damndest to twirl you around without ramming you through the tables.

"Not right now! I expect this shit from Floyd, not you." He's going to get you both kicked out of the library if he doesn't smarten up.

"Our dearest Malfeasant is playing with the Rose King right now. Besides, he lacks my talents." He stretched your arms out straight before twirling you around, your back pressed to his front.

"Is that getting away with being a shithead?" you ask as you pap the side of his face, too little force to be a slap but with a similar message of 'stop'.

"Amongst much else, my dear!" He managed to dip you low, bracing one of your legs in the air, and you wiggled out of his grasp with a thump to the floor.

"Ah, what an invitation, ma belle! But alas, I cannot. It could never be. I'll see you at lunch." And he left you there, baffled, on the floor.

You wound up getting kicked out of the library after you started shrieking in rage and kicking like a damned toddler. What the fuck was that about?

~*~*~*~

"People are being weird."

"Everyone's weird around you." If Idia's combo kept, this would be a perfect match. "You encourage it in people with your presence. It's a passive AOE. No fighting against it."

"More than normal."

"It's the curse of spring. If you aren't sneezing, you see pretty girls and get stupid." He got his perfect match, and went back to the lobby. "Even I'm not immune to simp fever and spring flowers."

"You sure? You only go outside so you don't die of Vitamin D deficiency."

He pouted at you. "Girlfriends are supposed to be nice to you, you know."

"If I stopped, you'd wonder what's wrong. Anyway, then you couldn't brag to your followers about a tsundere girlfriend."

"You're not even a tsundere! You genuinely like me even when you're mean." He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "You're maybe sadodere."

"What's that one?"

"Sadistic yet affectionate."

You opened your mouth but genuinely couldn't argue. He was too fucking cute not to be mean to! What can you say? That pwease-no-buwwy aura he got when distressed was just too much.

"Yeah." He paused, a small smile creeping across his face. "Yuu."

"Yeah?"

"You really like stripes, don't you?"

You looked down, at his blue striped shirt you were wearing. It honestly fit you better than it did him. Further down was pinstriped socks, and if you remembered, the underwear had stripes too.

"What do you think."

~*~*~*~

"Mal?" "Yes?" "Why do you have all this even if you don't wear any of it?" "I do wear earrings now, thanks to you." He dropped another oversized ring onto your finger. "The rest, I simply don't bother with unless I must appear in an official capacity."

"So I'm a special occasion?"

He smiled at you, sweet and genuine. "Always."

"Then why am I your jewelry rack today?" So many necklaces. So many rings. There'd be a crown on your head, too, if the crowns for Draconias weren't essentially elabourate chains hanging off the horns.

"Perhaps I enjoy seeing you wearing my things. You wear Shroud's all the time." He was slowly going through a box of rings, trading them on and off your fingers after puzzling over them.

"Your clothes are tailored, and I'm too big around." You thought for a moment. "So, Mal."

"Yes?"

"Are you planning on something you aren't telling me?"

He blanched and immediately went shift eyed. "Of course not."

You took a breath. "I'm gonna say no."

"Yuu-"

"I'm pretty sure your grandmother would eat me alive if I said yes."

"No!" He made a shushing guesture. "I... am planning something. But not a proposal, my goodness, that would be too much pressure for you and would splinter the kingdom." He sighed. "Even if I would like it."

"I know you would. What are you planning."

"No."

"Yes, tell me."

"It's a surprise. You'll get it at some point in the future."

You thought back to some of the stranger events of the past few weeks. "... is it a birthday party, Malleus."

"Nnnnnnoooooooooooooo?" His face was a desperate, wide-eyed mask of please-believe-me.

"Yes it is."

"I didn't say that."

"You might as well have!"

"It's not." He wasn't even facing you anymore, knowing his face would betray him.

You took a deep breath. 

"I can keep pretending I don't know. I mean, if you want to throw a surprise party, I can't really stop you. And anyway," you added, "If I don't have a set birthday, there's no way I can know exactly when it's coming."

He relaxed, slightly.

"Don't get me a ring, though."

He chuckled. "That does have implications, doesn't it."

"Don't it, though?"

"I was checking what colours were most flattering for you." He finally turned around, all warm smiles. "I should have known. They all look lovely, because you're the one wearing them."

"Stop." You could feel you cheeks reddening. "If it helps, gold doesn't make my ears act up."

~*~*~*~

When you walked to your dorm one warm day, after school, you simply could not see the building for the brambles grown up since you left this morning.

"Yuu?"

"Grim?"

He squinted at you, unimpressed. "Your prince boyfriend has lost his fucking mind. Why'd he do this?"

"I think I know." You looked in amongst the branches, which held no roses, but something better. You plucked off a blackberry and held it to your little shoulder monster.

"Ew, no. I want tuna."

"Suit yourself." There was a path, and if you got on tiptoes, a tent half-hidden behind the briar. "You ready for a party, Grim?"

"What? What party?"

You shifted him from your shoulder to your hip as you walked along, careful of your sore arm. "They decided I needed a surprise party because I don't have an actual birthday. Figured it out like two... three? weeks ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He stopped, looked away, and bristled. "Why didn't they tell me?!?"

"Because you can't keep a fucking secret?"

He yelled and scrambled to the ground. "Hey assholes why didn't you tell me I better be getting presents too-" He's already out of sight, and you can't stop laughing at him. It's better like this, when he's himself.

~*~*~*~

Why is Everyone here. There's a huge stack of presents, there's a buffet table, there's chairs, there's - 

"Shrimpie's here!" And then everyone converged with enough words that it was just a wall of sound; mystery hands leading you to a chair, someone was trying to stick a hat on you -

"Wait!"

People only stepped off and quieted because your voice cracked. Idia, hiding in a corner, managed to raise sympathetic eyebrows before whispering something into Azul's ear.

"I gotta go inside for like, five minutes, I'll be right back." And off you went.

~*~*~*~

"You don't seem the type to do drugs."

You looked up and laughed. "Well, Vil, I gotta get through the day somehow." You shook out two pills and poured a glass of water.

"What are they for?" He leaned against the doorway, as though it wouldn't cover his clothes with splinters and dust.

"These," you said as you pointed to the two in your hands "are anti-nausea. They're new."

"How many of those do you take?" He nodded towards the other bottles on the counter. “I didn’t see them during training.”

"Well," you said, as you started to number them off on your fingers. "I started the first ones after Eliza, to help stabilize my organs, the second ones were immunity-boosting after my pneumonia, I started taking vitamins after that as well, I got sleeping pills for nightmares after Jamil blotted - they don't always work, but hey - and, well." You shook your current bottle. "Your curse vapours are pretty good, it turns out."

He blanched, and you backpedaled. "You weren't yourself, and I only have to take these before meals now. I had to get IVs in the morning for a few days, I couldn't keep... wait, wait, shit, no, I'm sorry, don't make that face -"

Vil crossed the distance, putting his face very close to yours. "You should have told me."

"Why make you feel even worse, man?"

"Because I could have formulated something better for the damage." He flicked your nose, more exasperation than malice. "Cures and poison go hand in hand. I can't fix what was done if I don't know."

"Taking care of my medical woes is not your job, Vil."

"You don't get to tell me what is and isn't my job." He squeezed you close with one arm. "You're just an exhausting little potato."

"I'm a delicious little sweet potato that you can't resist."

He sighed, exhausted. "Yes you are. Now take your pills and stop with secrets."

~*~*~*~

"What kept you?"

"Had to make sure there's room in the fridge for all your food, Trey." He hadn't chosen one cheesecake - he had at least two dozen varieties of bite sized miniatures, labeled by flavour and potential allergens. "You were busy."

"Well, I felt like experimenting. I hope you don't mind."

"You're the one doing me a favour." You looked around, everyone chatting idly with one another. "Where's Mal."

"..."

"I swear to fucking god if he didn't get an invitation to the party he helped organize-"

~*~*~*~

It turns out he'd left to fetch an obnoxiously large bouquet of flowers, the scent so overpowering you thought your chair might tip from the force of it.

"You do enjoy them?" Mal was so cute when unsure.

"Yes, dear." As long as people didn't crowd in again. Lately, you can only take so much sensation before your brain shorts out and you start yelling. "Set them on the table, I'll have to start on them later." Hairspray and an arid room would have those dried within the week.

"Which part of the celebration will we start with first?"

"I don't know. It's my party but you're the ones throwing it. Where's Grim?"

He pointed over to one of the set up tables, where Grim sat in a pile of wrapping paper, furiously kick-scratching at a wriggling toy fish as big as he was, while Cater filmed. "We realized a few days ago he'd be unhappy if he didn't get his own presents."

"Aww. Is there catnip in that?"

He leaned in conspiratorially. "We're not supposed to have any on campus because Kingscholar is susceptible to it."

You went right past normal laughter straight to wheezing.

~*~*~*~

So far, the highlights were: A mycological photobook from Jade big enough to crush someone's head with (that he cheerfully wrote as such on the inside flap), an enormous multipack of slipper socks from Ruggie (with a note saying it was a return on the doughnut-patterened ones you'd given him for his own birthday) and a parure set from Floyd, crafted from thousands of woven seed pearls with carved coral feature beads that was frankly obscene in the amount of money it must have cost. (He, of course, said it was worth it as long as you wore it for him, and simply laughed when you quipped that he meant with clothing right?)

The rest was fantastic, still - various books and movies, a pretty glass vase from Ace stuffed with wildflowers, fine silk dresses from Kalim and a simple belled bracelet tucked in, from Jamil. Currently, you were opening a basket from Vil.

"Oh, wow," you meant with sincerety as you pulled out a light, fragrant soap. "You make this yourself?"

"Yes. There's soaps, shampoo, conditioner, perfumes, lotions..."

You smiled at him sweetly. "You saying I stink, Shoenheit?"

He mirrored your smile right back at you. "Be sure to use them."

"... I'm going to kill you," you said, laughing, as you lobbed the wrapping paper at his face.

~*~*~*~

"Az?"

"Mm?" He was watching with amusement as you looked the jacket over, a lovingly tailored frock coat in periwinkle wool and shell toggles.

"Are you sure this'll fit?"

"Of course." He guestured down the table to Rook, who waved. "He checked your measurements."

"When did-" Ohhhhhh. Oh. Alright. "I'm surprised he couldn't tell by just looking."

"I could, mon ange! But that was more fun!"

~*~*~*~

Malleus barely hid his pout when sliding his box over to you, and it didn't take you long to guess why. "Floyd's jewels really show yours up, huh."

"Perhaps," he said, pointedly not looking at the boy currently playing with Grim.

"Yours are more special because they're from you." When unwrapped, the box was stunning; carved walnut with shell inlaid curlicues. "My god, how old is this?"

"Older than I am," he said with a smile.

"How old is that, Mal."

He just kept smiling, and you rolled your eyes and opened the box to reveal a piece far, far different than the frothy confection Floyd gave you. A single, sizable brooch of gilt and enamel, a tiny faerie woman staring up at you with imperious emerald eyes, she was so lovingly crafted you could see the tension of her muscles and the hair between her legs.

"This piece is only a hundred and fifty years old," he said mildly. "The artist lives in the Valley of Thorns, and created it in the image of her lover." His smile was fond, and sweet. "They're still together to this day. Even if we may not last so long, I hope that it can be as strong."

The sentiment was enough to make you tear up.

~*~*~*~

Several tissues and a bat-shaped blanket from Lilia later, Idia pulled out a large box. And another, and another.

"Uh, Idia."

He just turned red as he stacked another box.

"Dude, holy fuck. What did you do?"

"Looked at your wishlist on your shopping websites." He's flickering pink at the tips of his hair. "Couldn't decide."

"I told him to just get them all!" Ortho looked wildly proud of himself. "Some of them are from me."

You blinked several times. "I thought the sites broke." You started feeling faint. "Idia."

"Yes?" He finally brought out one last box, easily two thirds your height, and set it in front of you.

"Some of those dolls were... so much madol."

He was shifty-eyed. "Yeah."

"Some of the outfits were themselves more than some of the dolls on those wishlists."

Despite the redness, his face was still. "Yeah."

"Oh my god." You're already sitting down, but you need to lie down. "That's too much money."

"It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"Why do you have so much money one of those sites alone was at least a million madol's worth of-"

"Please just open the boxes," he said in a strained voice. "I don't want them all staring."

You take your shaking hands to start unwrapping, mentally trying to figure out which rooms in the building were sound enough to hold obscene amounts of porcelain, resin and plastic. By the time you were done, there were over forty of varying shapes and sizes with complete wardrobes for each; the last not even on any list - that was an art piece near as tall as you, a fine bone china girl with golden curls and knowing eyes from an artist whose work did not go for less than five million madol even firsthand. Your vision greyed at the sight of her, and when you came to your senses, everyone breathed a sigh of relief before spending the rest of the evening treating you as something at least as delicate and precious as her.

~*~*~*~

It's just past sunset, and guests are still milling about. You're not really looking at them, though - you're losing your little friend.

Grim's only himself in daylight, now. Once the night hits, he goes back to the strange, feral thing that laid your wrist open to eat a chunk of solid ink. He's gone twitchy, wordless, pacing with his now headless robot fish in his mouth, before finally tearing through the brambles to god-knows-where.

"... I don't know what to do about it. He doesn't come back at night anymore. What if he doesn't come back at all one night?"

"I won't let that happen." Idia was draped over the back of your chair, idly playing with the wrapping on your wrist. You couldn't see his face, but a curious tension was clear in his voice. "How many of those crystals has he eaten?"

"All of them, as far as I know." There may have been one on the camping trip that you were mercifully excluded from; thankfully your restraining order against Vargas meant that Grimm had been allowed to attend by himself. Good thing, too, your period had arrived weeks early. "Do you think it's like mercury poisoning? The effects get worse as more collects in his body?"

"Maybe. It's something to look into."

You snorted, lightly. "What do you know about it?"

"... Less than I'd like." Before you could ask, he leaned down to your ear to whisper, "I'd rather know you."

"What, now?" You looked around at the tables. "There's still people here-"

You barely stifled a cry when he nipped at your earlobe. "I put on something nice for you~" You could hear the smirk in his voice as he played every trick in his book to goad you. "Unwrap me and see~"

It took every ounce of self control in you to not throw him down on the table and take him right there, in front of God and every student in the school.

~*~*~*~

"I'm too late, I see."

"Close that damned door before everyone hears."

Malleus obediently shut the door to the balcony before setting his slotted pillow on the dresser. "They couldn't even if they had their ear to the door, I soundproofed all our rooms months ago."

"Aren't you clever. Did they buy the excuse?"

"I think that they would have believed that you were going to bed if you did not say it as soon as Shroud went inside looking very proud of himself."

You flopped back onto your pillows, eliciting a sleepy grunt from Idia. "Shit."

"And if you didn't trip on the stairs in your haste."

"Now you're making fun of me."

"Perhaps," he smiled, sitting at the foot of your bed and idly stroking your leg.

"So, why didn't you tail up after us?"

"I am, if I try very hard, capable of some discretion, even when it comes to you," he huffed. "And anyway, someone had to see everyone off, get everything put away, and bring the gifts inside."

Your face fell. "I'm sorry-"

He crept up to put a finger to your lips. "It was very simple. Now," he pressed himself against you and turned to look at Idia's drowsing form, "what is this?"

You snickered lightly to yourself. "I think he found my browsing history." All you'd left on him was a fine pair of silk stockings, with delicate stripes from thigh to toe. You'd never thought he'd even consider wearing something like that, but your pretty blue boy was so full of surprises.

Malleus hummed to himself as he reached out a hand, dragging a finger along one bruised hip. Idia only sighed and fluttered his lashes, and Mal let out a stuttering gasp.

"Do you think," he whispered, voice hoarse, "that if I took these off with my teeth, that he would still stay asleep?"

You felt faint at the thought. "I don't know, but let me watch you try."

~*~*~*~

You awoke, later, to Idia sitting with the blankets pooled around his waist, five of his blue screens open. You couldn't make much sense of them, too sleepy to make out the letters on their obnoxious brightness, so you reached out both hands to squeeze his waist.

He yelped and scowled at you. "Go to sleep."

"No, you." The screens weren't making any more sense, but there was, briefly, a picture of Grim. "What are you working on?"

"I'm almost done," he said, which was not an answer but you were too tired to notice, so you reached up his back to wind a few locks of hair around your hand - and pulled, which lead to another annoyed yelp as he quickly saved and closed his work. "Just say you're weak to light attacks instead of doing that."

"You know I am." When he finally laid back down beside you, you put your face to his chest, as much to block out the light from his hair as for warmth and comfort. No wonder he slept so poorly, he literally gave off blue light every hour of the day, that only dimmed once he was already asleep. "Tell me about it later, okay?"

"Later," he said, and you drifted off between your two boys, which was almost as nice as sleeping with Grim in your bed, but this would have to do until he got better.

[llatimeria]

tbh i don't even think i'd need to go fully automated luxury space communism with this shit. i don't think any of the improvements i want are impossible under capitalism. like obviously yes the concept of landlord and tenant needs to be burnt to the ground, but in the meantime...

i live in a big multi-building complex community that basically looks like this, except less nice

and honestly i don't hate living here, or at least living in a community like this. i have my complaints but at the end of the day they're pretty good at upkeep and maintenance and communicating with us when stuff's happening. i could definitely be living somewhere much worse.

the problems i have are problems literally every american suburban community faces right now and they all basically circle back to suburban sprawl. this apartment complex is huge, and i happen to live near to the middle of it, so i can't... go anywhere or do anything without a car. even the nearest stores are just too far away to casually walk to. not to mention places where you don't have to be spending money, like parks or libraries.

the thing is, though, being huge, it does have enough room to fit all those things. we even have a few community buildings and spaces that hardly anyone uses, and a few others that are nice but could definitely be nicer.

for example, there's a dog park here! it was a deciding factor for us living here! it's nice and i see people in there all the time! bbbbutttttt the substrate is all woodchips, there's no pathways in the park itself, it's littered with dog poops (at least, i hope they're from dogs) people don't bother to pick up, there's blackberry brambles to trip on, there's no shade, there's hardly anywhere to sit and the few benches that are there have no cover, which in the pnw means they're always either damp or wet. you can see how this is not ideal for families with small children or dog owners with disabilities (which is not a hypothetical category, btw - i'm disabled and have a dog obviously, but i've also seen at least 2 or 3 people walking their dogs while riding mobility scooters around the complex, which always strikes me as a bit risky and probably uncomfortable, especially considering the lack of sidewalks and pedestrian crossings in some areas).

my proposed plan:

1. rip up the woodchips and chuck em out. fuck the woodchips. replace with a moss lawn or lawn with native grasses.

2. add a paved, covered sitting area: at the minimum, a simple patio table with a big umbrella, or if we wanna get fancy we could have a permanent structure protecting many tables and chairs

3. add paved walkways (wide enough for wheelchairs and scooters) from the entryway to the sitting area

(i'd say add some more dog bag/trash can stations but this place already has a bunch of those and people still don't pick up after their fucking dogs-)

there's other stuff i can think to do (add a water fountain, more native plants, etc) but even just these changes would make the dog park not only more accessible, but more enjoyable for everyone. i'm sure the people living in the building adjacent to the dog park would probably prefer looking at a nice green space from their patio over a Beige Rectangle too.

and that's just ONE THING. i could also propose plans to add a community library to the main office building. or add a maker's space with machines and doohickeys our apartments are too small for on their own. or add more sidewalks and walkable spaces. or add a convenience store literally anywhere in here.

im frustrated because its like. none of these things feel that insane, even under current societal conditions. it wouldn't solve every problem, but it would make life for the people who live here much more bareable. and it's all so... tantalizingly... within reach. but i have no actual say over anything that goes on in this complex, not even any way to even casually pitch my ideas so we can all work together to figure out the intricate details. so what's even the fucken point lmao

www.google how do i perform a communist coup of my apartment complex. i have ideas

[grimbunnies]

Dustin Broke (all!)

❤️: OTP

Dustin/Meadow Thayer

💔: No OTP

Dustin/Lilith

🌈: Sexuality

Straight

😊: Friends

Beau, Dirk, and Angela all come to mind.

💀: Enemies or Rival

Alexander Goth. Dustin feels a bit uncomfortable around sims with such enormous wealth. Don Lothario, too, because he doesn't trust the man with his mother's heart or as a role model for Beau (and he kind of resents the fact that Beau sees Don as more of a role model than Dustin).

🐶: Pet or favorite Animal

Dustin falls in love with every dog he meets, and he absolutely tries to bring strays home. Skip wasn't as keen on just letting any animal into their home, so he always took the creature to the shelter.

🌷: Flowers or plants they like

Blackberry brambles. There are a few spots in Pleasantview where the brambles grow, and Dustin picks the berries right off and eats them.

☀️: Favourite Season

Summer

🌧️: Favourite Weather

Sunny and hot, but not too hot. Weather that's perfect for swimming.

🕯️: Favourite Aromatic candle

He quite likes the sugar cookie scented candle that his mom has in the bathroom.

🥘: Favourite Food

Dustin loves ribs.

☕: Favourite Drink

Dustin would claim it's beer, but he's more into lemonade. Brandi makes freshly squeezed lemonade and Dustin thinks it's to die for.

🍦: Ice-cream Flavour

Neapolitan. Why be limited to just one flavor at a time, yeah?

🍕: Pizza Topping

Dustin likes a pizza slice that's heavy in toppings. He wants lots of meats and veggies piled high, including pepperoni, sausage, chicken, green peppers, olives, spinach, tomato, mushrooms, etc.

🍟: Snack

Dustin will mow through any bag of chips in minutes.

🍿: Movies they like to watch

Crime/mobster movies and sports movies. He used to watch sports films with his dad.

📺: TV Show they like to watch

Dustin likes watching family friendly cartoons with his younger siblings. The kind of cartoons that are fine for kids but that actually have plots and themes that are interesting for adults, too.

🎵: Music they listen to

He likes his dad's music. Probably some country and old school rock.

⚽: Sport they like or play

Dustin likes playing pretty much any sport. His favorites are basketball and baseball.

📚: Books they like to read

Dustin occasionally picks up a book that's getting a lot of attention, but he finds it difficult to sit and read a book for hours. He's also not a comic book fan.

🕹️: Video Games they like or Play

SSX 3. Dustin likes the classics (and it's the only game he owns).

🎻: Musical instrument

I don’t really see Dustin playing an instrument... He probably enjoyed those plastic kazoos that kids seem to be given a lot. Oh! I know! He likes helping his siblings and eventually his children learn the xylophone. 

🎨: Favourite Colour

Red or dark blue?

👠: Shoes they like

Dustin can't afford really nice tennis shoes, but he does admire the top-of-the-line brands. Given the chance, he'd shoplift a pair.

👕: Clothing style

Cheap, comfy, and a little baggy.

👜: What’s always on their bag

Fake ID and an extra pair of socks

📰: Section of the Newspaper they read

Job listings 

💻: Website they visit the most

Dustin probably visits Simstube a lot (or whatever the sims equivalent of YouTube is called... Do we have a canon name?).

📱: Social media they use the most

I don’t feel that Dustin uses social media? I think he’s smart enough to realize that he probably doesn’t want to put too much information out there considering the work he’s doing.

📗: Favourite School Subject

Biology is Dustin's favorite subject, especially when the focus is more on plants and animals.

📕: Less Favourite School Subject

English. He hates all the essays they're expected to write. He's always been marked down for his writing sounding too conversational. He also hate that they always have summer reading.

🎓: University they attended (or not)

I don't see Dustin attending any university. If he were to attend, he'd go to Sim State University.

🎒: University Major

I think he'd take a while to declare a major, but he'd eventually settle on economics, political science, or biology. He'd be really drawn to polisci and bio, but I think econ would ultimately be his pick. It would feel more practical.

🔮: Something Random

Dustin is a Fortune sim more in the sense that he wants to be able to live comfortably, without fearing that the repoman will come. If he had the resources, he’d happily work from home to take care of the kids he eventually has. Skip wasn’t really the best dad (or husband) in my headcanon, but Dustin remembers fondly being able to play with his father, and he wants his kids to have similar memories with him.

[onlydreamofmysoul]

I made noms🥰. But serious question why do people always hate blueberries but love them in muffins? Like they’re not that different

Blackberries are amazing!!!!! There’s this incredible spot to pick them near my house, it’s a field literally overrun by brambles and we go every year in your worst clothes cause they about to be ruined and literally fill buckets and buckets with blackberries and we make jams and tarts and everything! I used to give jams to my teachers and all😂😂

(But then someone always starts reciting ‘blackberry picking’ by Swamy’s Heaney cause you bet we were all made learn it off in school at some point and damn that shits depressing)

Those look so good!!! I’m high key in the mood to bake right now but it’s quarter to ten soooo

(Although I’ve baked much later than this, my family is used to me baking at all hours but they have work and school in the morning so I’m not gonna risk keeping them awake)

[pandawriterstuff]

A Chance

She twirled around slowly, eyes trained on the cold expanse of stars above her, bursting out of the sky, somehow so close and so far away all at once. Malcolm found he was more concerned about the uneven ground beneath her bare feet and how close they were to the brittle drop-off, Lexie's laugh low and clear as she nearly stumbled into a blackberry bramble, only his hand reaching out and snagging around her warm waist keeping her from capsizing right into it. He opened his mouth to say something exasperated when his eyes met hers, no worry in them for once, just playfulness and peace. The first time in a long time he'd seen her look anything like that.

So how could he say anything as she snaked out of his hold? Trailing fingers down his arm as she went and making his skin prickle with gooseflesh, standing square in front of him and ordering, “Dance with me.”

Malcolm couldn't do anything but grin for a second, looking at Lexie framed in the inky blue night, before his eyes darted down to the village below them. He could almost swear the ticking of the old church clock was audible even here, far above everyone and everything they knew. “Your dad would murder us if he knew where we were. He made me promise.”

“Uhg, why are you talking about my dad?” Lexie gave him a very unimpressed look, before shaking her head. “You have seriously no game, Mal. Seriously.” Turning away from him and not looking back, Lexie wandered over to the edge and eased down to the ground, letting her feet dangle over as the dry dust settled where she'd disturbed it. Neither of them said anything for a minute, the buzzing of stray mosquitoes and other night bugs suddenly loud in his ears, where before they had been filled with her. He wanted to go and sit by Lexie. Try that arm around her waist thing again, even though they were no longer officially boyfriend and girlfriend. Malcolm missed her so much sometimes it was like rocks were crushing his guts, stabbing dully at his insides. Missed her so much his mind would fill with memories of days and nights with Lexie, like he had a video running through his head, bombarding him with flashbacks, and there wasn't room for anything else. “I leave soon. You know that.”

“I do.” He did. Reaching right down into his mangled guts for a bit of courage, Malcolm dragged his feet, new blue boots suddenly weighing an unnatural amount, over to the edge and slowly, carefully, lowered himself down next to Lexie, fingers closing around the rock ledge. This close he didn't look down at the town, dark and distant as it neared two A.M. It was too high, too far to fall.

But he sat there, for her, and Lexie leaned against him, her quiet, “Thank you,” proof she still remembered his fear, for all Malcolm loved this place as much as her. Their place.

“Do you think we'll be okay?” Lexie asked it quietly, softly. Seriously, and Malcolm kind of hated himself for the little laugh that forced its way out of his throat before he could swallow it.

“Maybe. We've got a chance, right?” Lexie more than him, but Malcolm had always known that. Just as he knew the last thing she was talking about was their relationship.

But it was true, wasn't it? They had a chance. Malcolm looked up, instead of out, at the diamonds littering the sky above him and decided he was going to find his.

[bangtanfancamp]

of Dusk and Summer

✨ Teaser 2✨

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

∴one shot

∴masterlist

∴playlist/soundtrack

∴pairing: Park Jimin x artist reader

∴teaser length: 1.2k

∴word count: approx 30k +

∴rating: mature

∴genre: coming of age, high school au, bf2l (best friends to lovers), romance, angst, fluff

∴warnings: mentions of abusive behavior and dysfunctional family dynamics, loss, light smut- sort of? (Intense makeout- still SFW)

∴summary: Graduation and academic excellence is all Jimin has had his eyes fixed on for as long as he can remember. Today, it finally happens. Today, he finally walks the stage and graduates. Today, his goals finally become reality. Or at least, that’s what he thought-until the best friend he thought he knew inside and out shows up in his window while he’s getting ready, and his life is never quite the same.

Alt: Park Jimin and his best friend have one incredible night that changes what they are to each other forever.

𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝟷 ∴ 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝟸

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

Ten minutes later, and against his better judgment, Jimin is lowering himself down the godforsaken trellis behind you and into his front yard with a backpack slung over his shoulder. His perfectly pressed and creased dress clothes have been replaced with his favorite blue jeans and a white t-shirt with a too wide collar that he snatched from his closet in haste. He grumbles as his timberland boots catch on the lattice and send a chunky piece of wood careening off the edge of the trellis. Another thing to add to today’s list of sins, he supposes. His mother really is going to throttle him when she gets her hands on him. He can’t help but sigh at the thought. At least if he dies, he dies in his favorite outfit.

As he slides into the passenger seat, he wonders if he should text her. He heard the commotion of his parents leaving ages ago, his mother adamant about finding good parking as she stuffed her precious yapping Pekingese in her too big purse and slammed the back door shut. The idea of them sitting there waiting for a son who never shows up makes his heart feel a little sick. So he sends something non-committal to his father, the calmer of the two- an emergency came up with a friend. I’m safe but i can’t make graduation. I’m sorry- mutes it, and shoves it in his pocket.

As you turn the engine over and begin to pull away, Jimin looks back over his shoulder and catches a glimpse of his cat’s warm terra cotta fur sitting in his windowsill. If it’s even possible, her sweet face looks confused to watch him go. Like she knows something is wrong about today. Jimin knows he’s projecting, but still, he swears he can almost hear her solemn meow as you turn the corner and he loses sight of both her and the way this day was supposed to go.

─────────────────────

An hour in, neither of you has said a word.

Not really. It feels strange. At some point, you’d begun playing a soft acoustic playlist in the background just to fill the air with something other than this sterile silence. Yet it remained suffocatingly still between you otherwise. Neither of you were even humming along or tapping your fingers- nothing.

The engine’s steady rumble and shaky, finger picked guitar strings remain the only sounds in the cabin as Jimin’s gaze stays pointedly focused out the passenger window. His fingertips make an absent minded profession of picking at the unraveling threads of his ripped jeans, and you try to pretend this doesnt hurt. The silence between you feels weighty, heavy- wrong. Full of all the questions he won’t ask and the answers you won’t offer.

You wish it wasn’t like this.

You wish you hadn’t had to come find him today. That things were different. That everything was different. You’re grateful that he’s here- truly, you are. It’s just that you wish you had been strong enough to do it alone. That you could’ve been braver.

That you weren’t such a coward.

That’s the one that stings the most. No matter how hard you try to push your troubled thoughts away, that’s the one that always ricochets back the fastest. You hate it. You should’ve figured out how to face this alone- but you’d been scared, and it made you selfish. You can’t help but feel guilty about the rite of passage you’d stolen from him today. You hope one day he’ll understand.

You hope one day he can forgive you.

─────────────────────

An hour and a half later, you find yourself on a patch of winding, interconnecting backroads so old they’re still just gravel. Tree boughs sweep low overhead in this forgotten area so far outside the city. You and Jimin had picked up some fast food at the last place you’d seen for miles not too long ago, but your bag remains folded over on the bench seat between you. You’ll eat when you get there, you think. And if your memory serves you right, it shouldn’t be too long now.

Jimin, to his credit, still hasn’t asked where you’re going as he munches unenthusiastically on his cardboard French fry. You miss the melodic sound of his voice. Especially now. It would’ve been a nice companion these last few hours. But you understand. You know him. Honestly, at this point, you’ve realized his silence is actually a gift. Jimin holds his tongue for no one, so the fact that he’s stayed beside you with little to no resistance this entire drive says a lot about how seriously he’s taking this, how important to him you are, and you’re grateful.

You know he’s upset and confused right now, and Jimin doesn’t handle feeling lost very well. It’s why he always pushed so hard in school all these years. He never could stand not knowing the why behind things. And he never handled irrationality well. So you’re sure spontaneously dragging him out of his bedroom on the biggest day of his high school career has set off more than a few alarm bells for him- yet he remains silent for your sake.

Jimin was usually a force to reckoned with in his own domain- every teacher at school knew it too. They all dreaded his inevitable irreverence and pushback when they required anything of him that he might deem unreasonable or poorly thought out. They knew good and well what a spitfire he was. He was passionate and loud about needing to understand, to be ahead of the game. It’s why he was such a brilliant student.

It’s why he should’ve been valedictorian.

That nauseous twinge is back in your gut, but you push it down as you turn down a particularly neglected road and something else swirls in your chest. Ivy and brambled blackberry plants have twined themselves around the rusted iron gate at the end of the lane in front you. The trees dip low and wild as you hop wordlessly out of the truck to undo the padlock chaining the ancient gate to the sunken wooden fence line.

The air here is so much lighter, so much cleaner than in the city, and a wave of nostalgia grips you so tightly you fear you may collapse. Eyes fluttering shutas your shoulders dip, you let the old memories overtake you as you still in the high grass by the gate.

You can’t remember the last time you were here, and the thought makes tears that you refuse to shed prick the corners of your eyes. Things should never have gotten this bad, you think- but here you are. Breathing deeply, you turn the numbers on the lock through sheer muscle memory and trudge bare legged through the high summer hay to push the gate wide open, your graduation robes abandoned hours ago.

Hopping back into the truck, you direct it through the gate like slipping through a portal into another world- a gentler world. A sweeter time in a simple place that was always kind to you, even when the rest of the world was harsh. You hope it will be gracious enough to accept you again now as you slip out yonce again to push the gate shut before driving you and Jimin a mile deep out into the center of the beautiful, wild, undisturbed hay field.

Shifting into park, you take a deep, trembling breath and turn off the engine.

“We’re here.” You whisper in the stillness.

─────────────────────

✨full fic coming soon! ✨

Are you guys getting curious yet? 👀 I certainly hope so . Also! Thank you to @itshardcandy for your sweet comment on the first teaser!!!! it was so encouraging to see. Thank you for sharing a little kindness ☺️💕💖✨

[diddlesanddoodles]

DEAD WALLS RISE - CONNAR

PART ONE

The day that Connar found out he was red-green colorblind coincidentally happened to by the same day he first met Gen. And the two events were not all together unrelated. He’d been let out to play by his mother with the same vague warning she always told him, ‘don’t go passed the boundary’. The boundary being the yellow paint upon a selection of trees that marked the end of their property and the beginning of their neighbor Gen’s land. Or at least they said it was yellow. It just looked white to Connar.  

He had never met Gen, but his father had several times and for everything that the boy had ever heard about him, Gen seemed to be a very nice fellow. He just so happened to be a Vhasshalan giant. His father once told him that Gen was an old man, widowed, and liked his privacy. So to be good and respectful neighbors, they created the boundary so they never mistakenly foraged or hunted on his land.

“We’re not poachers,” his father told him once.    

Which was never a problem for Connar as his family hand plenty of space for him to run around and plenty of very good climbing trees. But what they did not have were the luscious blackberry brambles. They did have some brambles, but they had picked them clean of any and all berries earlier that season. From his favorite climbing tree near the boundary, he could see far into their neighbor's land and passed the low ridge near the stream, he could see the sprawling blackberry brambles. From even so far away and up so very high, he could see the berries. Sitting there. With only birds and deer to eat them.

The temptation became too great for the adolescent and he decided he was going to go pick a few of them. Not many. Just a few. Besides, Gen was a giant and blackberries were so small to him he would never notice or miss a few of them.

Careful of the thorns, Connar spent a good portion of the mid-morning greedily devoured handfuls of the little black jewels. It was only when he heard the first rumbles of thunder that he decided he had eaten enough and best head home before the storm rolled in. The sky was grey and the clouds thick. It would be a gulley washer for sure.  

He walked behind the thicker part of the bramble, ducking under the foliage and slipping through, when all of a sudden there was a loud snapping sound and the screech of metal springs. The clear path in front of him and the one he had just come through were abruptly blocked by metal bars and the force of them rearing up from beneath the ground debris sent Connar falling back onto his bottom. Under him he could feel the hard bars of metal.

Sitting there for a long moment and listening to the frantic beatings of his own heart, Connar looked around himself as he tried to decipher what it was that had just happened. All at once he understood and he was on his feet at the bars to one of the trap’s doors. He yanked ineffectively at them and when that failed, he began to push. Bracing his feet against one of the bars across the floor, he pressed his back to the trap’s door and pushed as hard as he could. But even then he only managed to move the spring loaded door a few inches before his strength gave out and he fell back down onto the floor, panting and shaking.

He had triggered a game trap; a spring loaded one. Near his feet he could see the trigger plate, hidden beneath more forest debris.

“Oh no…” he got back to his feet and peered out towards the direction of his family’s land. “Daaaaad! Mamaaaaa! Help!”

Only crickets and bird song answered him and before long, the thunder had its own say. A rolling rumble drew across the sky as the wind began to pick up. He felt the first few drops of rain hit his head and looking up through the foliage covering the roof to forest canopy and the swathe of sky visible, he frowned.

“…Mama’s gonna swat me.”

…………………………………….

The worst of the storm passed within an hour, but the rain persisted all morning and into the afternoon. Soaked through and shivering, Connar huddled miserably in the corner of the trap, hoping he would hear his family calling for him so he might call back and maybe his father could think of a way to get him out without alerting their large neighbor to the fact that they’d been trespassing or in Connar’s case, poaching blackberries.  

When he heard the crunch of footsteps, Connar got to his feet and looked back towards his family’s property, hoping to see he father crest the ridge and start yelling at him for worrying him and his mother…but belatedly realized that the foot falls were coming from the other side and were growing louder. Much louder. Until the sound of large boots sounded right next to the trap and through the foliage and brambles obscuring most of his view, Connar could make out a pair of very large feet. And then he heard the giant rumble above him.

“Hm…well ain’t that curious.” Connar edged himself to the farthest corner, staring up as leather clad hands pulled and swept away the vegetation covering the roof of the trap and revealing a greyed and wrinkled face. Brown eyes widened from under thick eyebrows as the giant huffed a short chuckle, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Well, well. Aren’t you a funny looking deer…”  

Connar hunched he shoulders as though he could disappear into himself.

“Now then,” The giant said and raised an eyebrow at him. “You wouldn’t happen to be Arthur’s little boy, would you?”

“Yessir…” Connar replied in a small voice.

Gen’s smile widened and he tapped the metal trap’s roof. “Tell me; how in all the seven hells did you miss seeing this contraption?”

“…it was hidden,” Connar explained, feeling just the smallest sting to his pride as the implied accusation.  

“It’s bright red, son.”

Connar blinked and looked beside him at the metal bars and the green brambles beyond. They looked the same to him. He turned his gaze back up and squinted at Gen, feeling as though perhaps he was playing a trick on him. “They look the same...”

Gen’s amiable expression turned incredulous. “You telling me this…” he tapped the trap again. “…and these…” he brushed a finger through the brambles. “…look the same color to you?”

Connar nodded, but jerked in surprise when Gen abruptly broke out into a fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Connar demanded, his face feeling hot and his pride feeling more than just a mere sting.

“Hate to tell you this, but I think you might be colorblind.”

“I can see color just fine!”

“Perhaps, but not all of them. At least not all the ones I can see,” the giant explained. “I paint my traps bright red so I can find them easily and also because deer can’t distinguish between the green of the bushes and the red paint. Humans should be able to see them just fine and dandy though. But not you.” He paused as though considering and then grinned. “So I suppose that really does make you a funny looking deer.”

Connar started to glare at giant, but a telling tickle at the back of his nose had him turn his face into the crook of his arm and he sneezed. Gen hummed thoughtfully and asked, “How long have you been stuck in there, son?”

“…a while.”

“And how long is ‘a while’?”

“Since this morning…”

With a resigned shake of his head, Gen sighed. Then, fixing the young boy with a curious, if not slightly amused look, he asked, “Suppose you’ll be wanting outta there, hm?”

“Please...”

“Alright,” he chuckled, slipping off one of his gloves and popping the top of the trap open. Connar felt a little silly for not having thought that the trap opened from above. But he had little time to contemplate as Gen reached inside, but with a deliberate slowness that may have been meant to keep from startling him. Large fingers wrapped around his back, cupping him into the large palm and lifting him up and out of the trap. Gen peered at him with a slight frown. “Boy, you are soaked to the bone.”

“It rained...” he replied. “A lot.”

Gen hummed to himself before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. He then draped it around Connar’s shoulders. “That’ll keep you a tad bit warmer in the meantime,” the giant said and then rose to his feet carefully. “Now let’s get you back to your mother before she starts to worry.”

It didn’t take him any time at all to reach their little house, a handsome little homestead built into the side of a moss covered hill. His father was seated outside on a stool, idly carving a small piece of wood

“Hello there,” his father said, looking up with surprise at Gen approaching.

“Hello Arthur. Apologies for just wandering in,” Gen said and then knelt down to place Connar on his feet. “But I think this one belongs to you.”

His father leapt to his feet and marched over to his son. “Connar! What have you been getting into now? Gen, I am very sorry if my boy’s been bothering you...”

Gen laughed. “Not at all, not at all. Poor little fella had a rough morning though. Got caught in one of my venison cages near the stream. Soaked through and chilled, but otherwise fine. Don’t be too hard on him.”

His father grabbed his shoulder and began to steer him towards the door. “Maria! Come and get your son, please.”

His mother’s head peaked out from the door as she was wiping her hands on her apron and she planted them on her hips upon seeing her son. “Connar, what in the God’s Greenwood have you been doing? You are drenched!”

“Got caught in one of Gen’s venison traps,” his father said, echoing Gen’s explanation. His mother’s hand reached out and snagged his right ear and began to pull him along.

“WHAT?”

As his mother dragged him into their home, he heard Gen laugh and say, “By the way, I think your boy may be colorblind, Arthur.”

…………………….

Connar’s family and Gen remained very good neighbors and for the two years that followed his first meeting with the giant, all seemed well with the world.

And then Vhasshal declared war on Silvaara and their once peaceful lives shattered.

Retribution came swiftly and the first to suffer King Nethrin’s rage were the residents of the Blackwoods. Blue coats hunted at night, torching any human homes they found and capturing any human that came across. People they had known for years disappeared with nothing but the ruined and burned out shells of their homes remaining. Once trustworthy Vhasshalan neighbors became hostile. Though they had not heard or seen Gen, they all assumed he was of a similar mind.

And soon enough, the reckoning came for Connar and his family.

His mother had been struck with a nagging feeling all morning and all but demanded of his father that they leave their homestead that day and hide in their winter storage larder. Just in case. It was an underground cellar that when shut, was indistinguishable from the surrounding mossy rocks. It was secure, it was insulated, and well stocked.  

That night, the blue coats came.

Five of them walked around their homestead, kicking over their cart and trampling Maria’s flowerbeds and smashing in the small windows. Their old pony, their heifer, and her calf were all taken away. And then they set it all on fire. From far off, they watched their lives be devoured by the flames and the smoke rising up into the uncaring sky. The question of what to do lingered heavily.  

His mother wept and though his father tried his best to comfort her, he too had tears in his eyes. Their home had been in the family for seven generations. His grandfather carved the wood that made their bed frames. The quilts had been hand sewn by great aunts. But it all disappeared behind the wall of flames, framed between the voyeuristic silhouettes of the blue coats. Connar and his older sister huddled together near the back of the cellar, listening to the haunting echo of their laughter.

……………..

They were beginning to run low on food and though making soup of what little remained would have stretched it considerably, they could not risk a fire. His mother had feeling poorly for several days and his father did want to leave her side, so Connar was sent out to fetch the water. He wore his dark green tunic and hood so as to better camouflage himself in case any giants were about. He found a quiet bend in the stream that was well hidden by thin limbed trees with thick foliage and uncorked the water sac, submerging the end into the stream and letting the bladder fill with cool clean water. His mind began to wander and he was not as observant as he should have been.

The snapping of a branch brought him back to the present and he looked up and up and into a familiar face he hadn’t seen in months.  

“…Connar?” asked Gen. The giant had been emerging from a cluster of trees just a few yards from the stream, a leather satchel filled with wild vegetation at his side. Upon seeing Connar, his eyes widened and then abruptly narrowed and then he was stepping forward with a purposeful stride down into the stream. Towards Connar. With a squawk of alarm, the human dropped the water sac and ran with Gen bellowing after him. “Stop!”

Not since the day before the war broke out had his family seen or heard anything from Gen. Connar knew from the stories he told him that he used to work at the Vhasshalan castle when he was younger and he spoke highly of King Nethrin often enough that it did not leave any room in his or his family’s mind just what side of the conflict he stood. It hurt his father and him to think that their friend and neighbor would or could do them harm if he found them. Supposedly there were bounties being offered for captured humans to entice those who would otherwise have left any humans they found alone. In that moment, the only thing Connar could think was to lead him away from his family’s hiding spot and hope he was able to lose the giant under the thick brush.  

But as he dove for cover through a thicket, his foot caught and he fell forward and the sound of squealing metal springs echoed around him as the venison trap snapped shut. Connar looked around at the metal bars with a sinking dread.

“No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!” He scrambled gracelessly to his feet and looked up just as Gen came into view behind him. He pressed himself against the furthest end of the trap and stared with terrified and bated breath as the giant bore down on him. It was all too familiar and he knew the outcome was going to be drastically different. 

“Connar…”

“I won’t tell you anything!” Connar yelled angrily at his former neighbor. Gods, his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. The giant knelt down beside the trap and with one hand, popped the top open. Huffing through his nose and shaking, Connar stared up into Gen’s face.

“Connar,” Gen said breathlessly. He did not reach in for him like Connar had expected. He only stared down at the human youth. “You’re alive…”

“No thanks to you lot!” the boy yelled, angry frustrated tears pooling into his eyes. He couldn’t get the image of his home burning out of his mind.  

Gen flinched at that. “Please, just listen to me…”

“No!”      

“Connar,” he said firmly as he reached inside. Bristling, Connar ran to the other side of the trap, but it was useless. There was nowhere to go that Gen could not reach. He felt thick fingers wrap around his torso and pressed into his belly, pulling him bodily from the corner and up. “Stop that…will you just…”

“No-! Don’t…don’t touch me! Let me go!” He thrashed and squirmed as best he could. He succeeded in shimmying partly out from his tunic, but Gen just tightened his hold and Connar found himself partially dangling from the giant’s grip. His cries for released were muffled by both the fabric of his tunic and Gen’s fingers. His legs bumped up against something as he was planted down atop it, the fingers retreating marginally, but only shifted to lightly hold him. Gen was sitting down against the thick trunk of a tree and had placed Connar onto his knee. For several seconds, neither spoke and were content to study one another. It was only when Connar began to struggle again that Gen spoke.

“I’m not going to hurt you, son.”

“Yeah, sure. You’re just gonna give me to the blue coats and let them do it!”

“I would never…”

“Liar!”

“Would you shut your gob for one minute and listen to me, dammit?”

“What is there to say?” Connar demanded, his voice cracking. “We’re at war. And your King wants us all dead. We didn’t do anything!”

“I know. I know…”

“Then why? Why is this happening?” he demanded, but his voice was softer. More pleading. “We didn’t do anything…”

“I don’t understand either. I don’t know,” Gen said, looking down, with a visibly anguished expression. “But that man is not the same King I remember. The one who I loyally served for all those years. The man I knew was a just and kind man. Whatever he’s become…he is not my King. It seems that he died along with Prince Thadeus. And now some demon wears his face.”

For a long while, they did not speak and Connar took a moment to study his neighbor’s face. He looked so much older than the last time he had seen him. “…they burned our house...”

Gen nodded. “I know. I went to look for you all and found what was left. Gods…I thought for sure you’d been inside when…or that they took you.” He looked into Connar’s eyes, moisture pooling under them as he said in a hoarse voice, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s happened. What’s happening. Everyone’s lost their fucking minds. The world’s gone mad and...” He shook his head and sighed deeply. “You aren’t hurt none?”

“No.”

“And your folks? Your sister? Are they…alive?”

“…yes.”

“Thank the Gods!” He said, falling back against the trunk and looking up into the canopy of trees above. “Blessed Mother, thank you.”

Connar shifted and was surprised when the fingers around him pulled back. No longer holding him, but merely cupping his back. “You…you’re not…you don’t hate us?”

“Why would I?” Gen asked. “You didn’t kill the Prince, did you?”

Connar glared at him. “Of course not!”

“Then I have no reason to hate you or wish ill upon you. Or your family. I’m your friend, Connar. That at least has not changed.”

He wanted very desperately to believe Gen. If the giant did wish harm on him, why go through the pretense of making him believe otherwise? “I…I…”

“Listen to me, Connar,” Gen said before he could finish his thought and carefully scooped Connar up and placed him on his feet. “I’m gonna let you go. And you’re going to go back to your folks. Tell your father…tell Arthur that I can help. I want to help. The rangers are upping their patrols. Vhasshal is using the road only a few miles from here to transport their men into Silvaara. It isn’t safe for you all to be out here. I can protect you. Hide you. Please. Tell him.”

Struck dumb, Connar fumbled for a reply before finally nodding.

“All right,” he said with a tired nod. “I will wait near the south end of my property. If you don’t show up by sundown, I will know my answer and I won’t bother you again. I can understand…I do understand why you would not believe me. But I hope you will. I hope these passed years of friendship mean as much to you all as it has for me.”

…………………………………….

His father’s face was hard as stone and his sister wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Did he follow you?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Arthur reached out and grabbed his son’s hand. “He didn’t hurt you?”

“No,” Connar said. “He…he looked really sad. And…he was crying. I think he was telling the truth.”

“But can we risk it?” his sister, Penny asked. “Maybe he just wants you to bring us all to him. For a bigger payout. They probably already gave our land to him.”

For a long time, Arthur did not speak. Heavy in thought he stared at the ground, at the cellar they’d made their home and to his children. His ill wife. Their all but used supplies.

“Dad?” Connar asked. “What do we do?”

…………………………….

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Gen said, relief clear on his face. But only Arthur stood before the giant in the small clearing at the furthest point of where his land met that of another one of their shared neighbors; a human couple who had disappeared soon after the war had begun. Connar, his sister, and mother were all back inside a thicket several yards away, hiding and waiting for Arthur’s signal.

“I do value our friendship, Gen. Which is why I’m taking this risk and hoping to the fucking Gods you aren’t lying,” Arthur slowly stepped closer, never tearing his eyes from Gen, “I’m weighing my life, my wife’s life and the lives of my children on your word.”

Gen did not move as Arthur approached.

“Marie’s been ill all this passed week,” Arthur said, tight jawed. “With the yellow reap.”

“I have medicine,” Gen quickly offered, his face slipping into concern and worry and it did not go unnoticed by Arthur.

“You would risk your own health like that?”

“Maria is a kind woman. A good mother. And my friend. As are you,” Gen replied. “Of course I would risk it.”

Arthur nodded, the hard steel of his face melting into abject relief and when he met Gen’s gaze again, it was with tears in his eyes. “I am so very glad to hear that. Because we need your help. Desperately.”

[libraford]

If you could make any bouquet, what would it look like? Or, maybe, what flowers are in your dream bouquet?

Tough question because there are SO MANY different flowers and I love all of them.

Except for callas. And babys breath. I hate those.

I would want something with LOTS of color. Probably a variety of rose types: free spirits, cherry burgundy, blueberry. Sunflowers, thistle, magenta stock. Green hypericum.

And something taken from somewhere you weren't supposed to be. Brambles from a wild BlackBerry Bush, cattails from a hidden marsh, goldenrod from a ditch, a pumpkin blossom stolen under moonlight from the neighbor's yard. The flower doesn't matter so much as the means.

And myrtle, of course. I LOVE myrtle!

[ancientbrit]

Natter # 15  07/13/2016

Subject: MI MG Natter #15 2016 Date: July 13, 2016 at 9:38:13 PM PDT No Farmers Market last weekend , but I have been so busy you would not believe! At least, I didn't seem to get much done in the time available. That is busy - right? I suppose that I tend to get a bit anxious in the few days before giving one of my little talks and last week was no different. I can't seem to settle to do anything worth while - I fiddle about I suppose. I did manage to prepare a handout list for the Saturday, but it wasn't until I was in the shower on Saturday morning that it occurred to me that I didn't have an assessment form - so I had to knock one up as I was eating breakfast. Sooo professional I felt! I was surprised that I was able to do this, as mornings and I do not normally work side by side! I had set my alarm clock for 7, but my alarm clock, having a mind of it's own, always makes itself known twenty minutes before set time. Not that it mattered very much as I had been awake since 0545. I should have leaped out of bed at that time I suppose, but I was convinced that as I had an hour until the alarm welcomed me to another day, I could get more sleep time. This of course was ridiculous and I spent about 30 minutes setting the world to rights before I decided that an early cup of tea would fit the bill. And so ten minutes later, my early morning cup of tea, along with a couple of Rich Tea Biscuits started my day, followed by a shower and opening the greenhouse lower vents, watering the seeds and plants therein, cutting some Weigela  and Ceanothus branches, loading MG sign boards and my class kit of essential stuff. After breakfast, during which I wrote the assessment sheet, I took off copies and was on my way by 0920, reaching The Grange at 0945 to find one MG already there waiting to help me set up. This we did in good time, setting out three tables, by which time most of the others had arrived. There had been ten who signed up and we waited until 10:20 for the last two but they never showed up, so we started. Apparently, all of them, with the exception of one second year Intern, had successfully taken cuttings in the past and this event really ended showing all of them which plants were prepared in which way. Some of the plants brought in were unsuitable at this time of the year, which was a shame. I had asked repeatedly that I be told beforehand which plants were proposed just so that I could advise whether or not it would suitable and I hated to say no - so we prepared them and hoped for the best. Never say die. There was a beautiful hardy Fuchsia which was in great demand, unfortunately it was nameless, but we can maybe identify it later once it blooms. I had estimated that we would be there for a couple of hours, but time ran on until 1:30pm, all of the time being well employed and I think we all had a good time. After everybody had helped clean up the mess, I was pleased to see that some of the ladies had gone into The Grange to buy rooting compound. It was nice to think that The Grange saw some return for their generosity. The next class on the 16th looks like being cancelled as only two have signed up. I will hold on until Thursday just in case there is a last minute rush, but I somehow doubt it will happen. The 23rd is good to go with ten signed up there too. I have to commend the staff at The Grange for their public spiritedness in providing this facility at no charge. I had been told when I gave a talk there last October that it was possible that this policy might change in the future, but I was not told anything like that this time. I was in fact, told that at any time in the future we needed it, the facility would be available to us again. you can't really say fairer than that and in addition anybody wearing their MG badge can get a 10% discount on any purchases. Coming home on Sunday from meeting a friend in Kirkland I hadn't seen in 20 years (she lives in Montana) I saw a dead deer on the west side of the 405. They are obviously increasing in number and I imagine there will be a load more before long, together with car accidents.  Mercer Island has also had several run-ins with about 3 or 4 deaths around the Island and it is only a question of time for when somebody drives around a corner in wet or otherwise dodgy conditions to be confronted with deer, slam on the brakes and go off the road or hit somebody. Not a pleasant thought that. My research assistant (Jean) dug me out some really interesting information about raspberries - a BLACK Raspberry to be precise - namely "Jewel." Apparently Jewel is neither a blackberry nor a raspberry, but a distinct species from North America - Rubus occidentalis. It has an intensely sweet flavor and complex aroma. The taste is apparently like a combination of raspberry cordial mixed with Bramble Jelly - quite incredible. It's talents do not end there as it contains a whopping five times the anthocyanin content of some blackberry varieties. This has attracted the interest of medical researchers, with a growing body of studies revealing intriguing results. For example, in one Phase 1 clinical trial (the first step in drug development) at the University of Ohio), researchers reported that consuming the fruit could reduce the markers of DNA damage in oral cancer survivors. The authors of the study are careful not to make claims beyond their limited evidence and more research is underway, but being sweet, delicious and just as easy to grow as any blackberry they deserve to be much more widely planted. Raintree features "Jewel Black" in their catalogue, where they describe the flavor as richer than red or yellow types. The bushes are larger than other types as well as vigorous and highly productive and quite disease resistant. Priced at $7.50 each (or 5 for $25) they are one plant I will have to try next year. One thing I like about them is that they won't run like raspberries - they propagate by tip-rooting like blackberries. What's not to like?

[galadrieljones]

Morrigan and Warden Matthew Cousland: excerpts

Snippets on the doomed love story of Morrigan and Matthew Cousland.

For @cristofalina​ who asked if I’d written anything about my Morrigan and Warden romance. These are all excerpts from my Solavellan work The Dead Season. Spoiler free, for all intents and purposes. <3

i. From Chapter 29: Soft, Softer, Softest

Morrigan watched from the altar, bait, it seemed. As she always had been. A tool, a pawn. When she was a child, she had liked to escape, take the shapes of crows and watch lovers kissing from the tops of high trees. She had been a romantic girl, and she liked lilies and those great big shells that you could hold at your ear to hear the sounds of the sea. Her favorite color had always been purple, like a heart, but darker, the color her fingers got when she'd go blackberry picking in the early morning sun. There was only one person she had ever told any of this, and he was dead now. But that is a story for another day.

ii. From Chapter 36: Hey, Morrigan. Spin me a tale.

“Mother?” said Kieran.

They were sitting in the back of a covered wagon, on their way to the Emprise du Lion. Morrigan was knitting by the light of an oil lamp. Kieran leaned against her, holding a red ball of yarn.

“Yes, Kieran.”

“Tell me a story,” he said.

Morrigan was knitting a pair of red gloves, for Solas. “What kind of story?” she said.

“One of your Well stories, please. One I have not heard before.”

It was chilly in the wagon. Morrigan reached across Kieran and pulled a wool blanket over them both. “Once upon a time,” she said, “there was an empress in search of a champion.”

"Is this about father?”

“No,” said Morrigan. “Tis a Well story, as requested. Your father was not the only champion in the world."

Kieran smiled. “You are right, mother. Of course. Please go on.”

iii. From Chapter 37: Entropy (edited for length and spoilers)

“Once, he feigned support for a wild merchant who was asking too much of the refugees in Lothering,” said Morrigan. “He pissed off a sister, and then, once she was gone, he killed that merchant for his hubris. He was a brash man in his prime. It could be unsettling, though I saw the soft of his heart. There were moments, of course. And he saw mine as well. His parents had both died in a single act of traitorous violence and he was pitched full force into the life of of an orphan, complete with both reluctant heroics and ample, daily risk. In the end, he was twenty-three years old and searching, desperately, for meaning. I suppose that, for a little while, I provided that for him.”

Sene and Morrigan were out in the courtyard, making their way through the clusters of people and the merchant carts. It was a colorful evening, with lanterns hanging from steel wires overhead. Sene had decided to take a break, with Morrigan, and somehow, they had gotten on the subject of Kieran’s father, Matthew Cousland—prodigal son of Highever, Hero of Ferelden, and the Gray Warden who, just ten years back, had sacrificed his life to saved the world.

“How old were you?” said Sene. She stopped at one of the merchant carts to put her hand on a large pumpkin.

“I was twenty-two,” said Morrigan. “My life, up until that point, had been a complicated task of balancing my mother’s treacherous demands with my desires to…experience the world without her.”

"The world is a different place than I thought it would be,” said Sene, thinking. “You say he was brash, your Matthew?”

A group of children rushed by. One of them was holding a small bell and rang it repeatedly, reminding Sene of Crestwood. The other was holding a red balloon and let it go into the air.

“He was a rich boy with a bandit’s heart,” said Morrigan. “He did not care for small talk. He was disarming, to say the least, a little like your Solas. Who he chose to comfort and who he chose to threaten could seem unpredictable to most. He’d cut down a priest to save a whore. Alistair, of course, found this distasteful. Matthew threatened his faithful Chantry charm. I, however, found it intriguing. One might think a veritable witch of the wilds has lived a life full of tales worth telling, but in reality, Sene, I was just like you: twenty-two years old, a book smart backwater girl with very little knowledge of the world outside my own narrow existence. I mean no offense, of course, Inquisitor, only that I understand what it is to be drawn to a man whose darkness makes you reexamine your own.”

“Darkness?” said Sene. She stopped to look at Morrigan. Morrigan wore high-heeled boots that day, which put the two of them almost eye-to-eye. “What do you mean?”

iv. From Chapter 38: Assassins

Suddenly, then, Mythal stood up and put the hair behind Morrigan’s ear. Like in a trance. Morrigan stumbled backward. “You are not him,” she said, more to herself than anything. “He is gone.”

“You still pine for him,” said Mythal. “Your Matthew?"

Morrigan stiffened up after this, like a tough, beautiful column. She became defensive. “And I suppose you're so different," she said. “At least the man I pine for is dead. I send my love into the void with no hope for its return. It is an act of coping. But the man you pine for is not dead. He just doesn’t want you. He wants someone else. This is not a game, Mythal.”

v. From Chapter 39: There Goes the Redhead

Solas turned his head, eyes narrowed. He was a big man there beside her. Bigger than Matthew had been in both stature and demeanor, but the two of them were such similar specimens with the heroics and the pride, that the more time she spent with Solas, the more she began to realize exactly what it was to deal with men of such considerable stoicism.

You mother them.

vi. From Chapter 42: When We Get Back to Skyhold, Pt. 2

Morrigan had only ever loved once, and it had not been for a very long time. She had been young, barely two years older than Sene when she became pregnant with Kieran and lost his father to what she now knew as the bullshit scourge of duty and sacrifice. How she hated it, and this was not the life she wanted. Matthew had been no god, but he was like Solas in that he had been similarly charming and territorial with Morrigan during their relationship, and as a clueless virgin to whom men had previously been a game of cat and mouse, she’d put up a marvelous front. She dealt with him and for a time even had him convinced that she was far more experienced and worldly than she actually was. She put him in his place. She had seen Sene “deal” with Solas in similar ways, and though they were her own, they were familiar. Sene was brash and honest where Morrigan had been measured and boastful, but it was all just a means of tricking arrogant men into showing their vulnerabilities.

vii. From Chapter 44: Dream Symbols

Sene looked up at the pretty insides of that willow tree. There were doves somewhere, mourning in time with the winter. “What was it like?” she said to Morrigan. “When you found out [you were pregnant]?”

“I did not find out until I was on my hands and knees, throwing up into a mass of blackberry bramble somewhere in the Exalted Planes,” said Morrigan. “Months along. Matthew was already gone.”

Sene swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“That is the past,” said Morrigan. “This is the present. Do not apologize for what has already come and gone.”

Morrigan and Kieran are central characters in The Dead Season.