#Lake District bridges down

[martyncrucefix]

New podcast discussion on Between a Drowning Man

I’m very pleased to announce that Mark McGuinness’ excellent poetry podcast, A Mouthful of Air, which has recently featured poets such as Mona Arshi, Judy Brown, Rishi Dastidar, Ian Duhig, Mimi Khalvati, Clare Pollard, Tom Sastry, and Denise Saul, has recorded a discussion about my new Salt collection, Between a Drowning Man. Mark’s method is to focus on one particular poem and between us we…

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1:

It was an apple. A stupid apple that you swiped. Thinking that you'd be able to get away with it too. And you would've too, if it wasn't for some tall peacekeeper with a platinum blonde buzz cut spotting you. 

Of course, he spotted you.

Because the universe hates you, left you alone to fend for yourself godforsaken District 8. Oh, gods, why, fucking why did you listen to your late brother's girlfriend and apply for a district transfer (when word that 8 was in desperate need for factory workers after a pox epidemic)? District 8 was even more depressing than 12. 

At least 12 had foliage, woods and meadows. Lakes, streams, and creaks. Ways to naturally gather food. Fresh air. 

District 8 had multiple textile factories that produced smog, run down tenant buildings, block and brick buildings crowding everything, and more cement than grass. The winters were cold and harsh, the snow and ice more then what 12 ever received. The river in the district had a large bridge over it, was more or less a landmark then a place to swim and fish. The water was most likely polluted from the textile factories.

All in all, 8 was miserable. And you were all alone in the district, working at a factory that made peacekeeper uniforms for a wage that was half of what you made back in 12 as an assistant in the apothecary. You lived in a small, crappy, worn down one room apartment that made your old wooden shack back in the Seam of District 12 look like the Taj Mahal.

Damn Ashlie for hooking up with a man so quickly after arriving in 8; for leaving you alone so that she could move in with the idiot. 

Why would you expect to get away with stealing an apple? Not with your luck. 

No…

You should've known better.

So, instead of begging to be let go for your crime, you just let the peacekeeper take you to his superior. You knew what awaited you, what your punishment would be. The angelic looking peacekeeper, dressed in blue fatigues and a coat that made his crystal blue eyes pop, had to know the fate he was taking you to. He looked to be a grunt, but you knew that peacekeepers (no matter their age) were just an extension of the Capitol’s cold, cruel, heartless rule.

So, no, unlike other thieves you didn't try to plead your way out of it. You just let yourself be led to the slaughter.

Coriolanus hated being a peacekeeper in 8. Damn that secretary in the Capitol’s PK recruitment office for refusing his bribe. If it wasn't for that stupid bitch, he'd be in 12 right now. He’d be with Lucy Gray.

But it turns out that he wasn't meant to be sent to 12 or to be with Lucy Gray. But what he was meant for was to be tortured by the presence of Sejanus Plinth. Stupid idiot willingly signed up for 20 years in the Peacekeepers; had his rich father get him stationed in the same district Coriolanus was sent to. 

District 8.

Sejanus wanted to become a medic after his PK training while Coriolanus just wanted to find a way back to the Capitol. Which meant that he needed to impress his superiors and take the officer’s evaluation exam as soon as he's eligible for it.

Private Plinth wanted to make a difference while Private Snow wanted to impress everyone; rise in the ranks in order to get sent back home to the Capitol.

So, during his day off, Coriolanus wandered the streets- looking for any opportunity to exploit; to make himself look impeccable in the eyes of the higher ups on PK Base-D8. 

Sejanus was making friends with the locals, which caused Coriolanus’ skin to crawl. Why would somebody willingly befriend the filthy district scum while on their day off? Then Coriolanus remembered that Sejanus might've been raised in the Capitol with more wealth then he knew what to do with, but he was District. He was from 2 and that would always make him less, make him a dirty dog.

Sejanus could mingle with his fellow district scum all he wanted, but Coriolanus wasn't going to. No, he was better than the locals here. Had no need to befriend rats.

Coriolanus was walking in the marketplace, which in his opinion was pathetic compared to the shopping area in the Capitol's downtown, when he spotted you. He thought that you were the prettiest girl he's set eyes on (including Lucy Gray) despite you being district. So, he decided to follow you.

And right when he was about to approach you, he saw you steal an apple. Coriolanus knew by how thin you are that you're probably hungry, maybe even starving (he's no stranger to hunger; him and hunger are old friends), but he couldn't let it slide. Catching you in the act of thievery while on his day off will get him looked at favorably by his superiors. It'll be an opportunity to make a great impression.

So, Coriolanus went over to you and grabbed your arm. You looked up at him with wide eyes, realizing that you got caught. And Coriolanus couldn't help, but think that you had beautiful eyes.

But he'd worry about gazing into them later, like after he's done turning you in.

Reaching into the pocket of your coat, which was thin and worn with patches on it, he dryly said, “Did you forget to pay for your apple, pretty thief?”

You didn't say a word, just gnawed on your bottom lip as he held the apple in his hands- inspecting it. It was red, but not very large. In fact, Coriolanus felt that the apple was of poor quality. You must've been desperate to snatch such a small piece of fruit.

The fruit merchant, whose back was turned when you took the apple, turned around just in time to see the platinum peacekeeper put the apple back onto the large pile it was taken from before escorting you off.

In District 12 there's a whipping post where people are tied to for floggings, but District 8 didn't have one of those. No, in District 8 a thief was made to strip (naked) and kneel in the snow while being whipped for their crime. 

It was a very humiliating, degrading, and painful experience. 

After your lashing was done, the peacekeeper that did it just laughed and tossed his whip on the blood stained snow next to you. You could hear the hushed pity filled whispers of the people around you as you lay on the snow, crying and in pain from your ordeal. 

Your body hurts so bad. A hot pain is seering thru you as blood rolls down your back from all the open wounds left from the lashes. Your blood drips on the snow and all you can think of is how are you going to get up; get home? You can barely move and nobody's going to move an inch or lift a finger to help you. 

You've been whipped for being a thief, you're poison to the citizens of 8. They'll never look at you the same way again. You were dumb enough to get caught; that means you're a liability.

“Come on, get up, darling.” You heard the peacekeeper, who had turned you in, say while crouching next to you. He helped you sit up, causing you to let out a blood curdling scream of pain. 

His icy blue eyes flickered with what you thought was a mix of concern and guilt as he quickly draped his coat over you. The heavy roughness of the wool painfully scratches your open wounds, causing you to let out another painful cry. 

You could feel the eyes of the district onlookers piercing into you as the peacekeeper picked you up bridal style; carrying you away from the crimson stained Snow and your pile of clothes. The crowd parts, like the parting of the seas, when the tall, platinum blonde peacekeeper walked towards the exit of the main square, where punishments were given out.

“Where am I taking you?” He asked, holding you close to him as your bleeding back stained his coat.

 “Third building on 16th Street.” You told him, voice shaking from the pain. 

“Stop whining, I'll get you home and cleaned up soon enough.”

“Should I be thanking you? It's your fault I got whipped so badly.”

 “Well, maybe if you didn’t steal we wouldn’t of had this issue, now would we?” The pretty boy peacekeeper condescendingly asked while continuing to carry you home. “Don't do this again; I won't always be available to take care of you afterwards.”

What the hell?!...

Is he serious? What is he, a delusional sadist? He's the reason your back’s torn to shreds, he's the one that turned you in, but now he wants to take care of you. Even has the nerve to tell you not to get whipped again, because he might be too busy to help you. 

What the hell’s wrong with this angelic looking devil of a man?

Coriolanus noticed how you looked at him with puzzlement in your beautiful eyes. He also noticed how pain was etched on your face. It sent a small pang of guilt into his chest, but he also felt something else. Just like the night he killed Bobbin in the arena, he felt powerful. Yes, he felt powerful that it was him that caused you pain. That by doing his job as a peacekeeper he was able to hold your fate in his hands. He also felt powerful knowing that he's the one that’s helping you; that’ll clean your wounds and bandage you up.

And the feeling of having power over you was euphoric to him. So, he decided to make you his girl in order to keep that power; that feeling he gets when exerting that power over you.

“You'll be safe with me, darling. I'll take care of you.” Coriolanus promised, only to add in. “What's your name, my pretty girl?”

His pretty girl? Is he for real right now? Oh boy… Only you would have a peacekeeper staking his claim on you after getting you whipped for thievery. If only your older brother was alive right now, he'd be laughing his ass off at your shitty luck.

“Y/N Halvir.” You simply answered, silently praying that your apartment would appear soon.

“I'm Coriolanus Snow, but you can call me Coryo since you're my girl now.” Coryo smiled at you. A smile that was too wide, showed off too many pearly white teeth, and seemed to be wicked.

You're his girl now, all because he caught you stealing an apple? Talk about a strange turn of events…

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @twinkletwinklenotastar @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @shellybellysstuff @zombicupcake3

[f0rlorn]

days spent in the sun → treech

a/n → making coral’s moodboard sent me into a spiral and now i have moodboards for every district 😭 is it worth it to post?

notes → in which nature is the perfect place for treech to show his love for you. feminine intended reader (though not sure pronouns are mentioned)

warnings → not edited & upload via iphone

     your hands were wrapped around treech’s arm as he carefully lifted his axe up to the tree, beginning to carve the shape of a heart. he was prudent in his work, meticulously shaving the bark off of the tree from inside the shape he had formed. you watched him silently, in awe of his handiwork. the result was a perfect heart shaped carving, permanently engraved on the tree. beaming, you pressed a quick peck to the boy’s cheek, then pulled him along with you as you walked atop a tree trunk bridge back to the lake. currently, the two of you were clad only in your undergarments, having gone out with the intention of swimming for the whole day. your clothes were strewn over the branch of a fallen oak, basking in the sun. the water was freezing, a stark contrast to the midsummer heat that lingered in the air. treech held your hand as you stepped in, prepared to catch you if you accidentally slipped. at first, you sunk into the shallow water leisurely, but as the water reached your hips, you let go of treech’s hand, completely submerging yourself in order to get used to the temperature. as you arose, your teeth chattered, but a grin was still plastered on your face.

     “get in, the water’s great!” you invited treech to join you with a sarcastic remark as he stood to the side, opting to just watch you. you could tell he contemplated it, but he denied, shaking his head. “where’s the fun in that?” you whined.

     “i’ve gotta do something first.” he simply replied, a roguish glint in his eyes. you were suspicious, but let him do his own thing as you bathed in the water and sunshine. the gravelly sand that covered the bottom of the pond indented the skin on the underside of your legs, adding a soothing pressure as you sat down, letting the water ripple around you. many minutes passed, and you grew restless the more time you spent alone in the water. venturing further into the pond, schools of minnows could be found darting rapidly. they brushed past your skin, maneuvering around your moving form. all was quiet aside from the waves of the water as you forded through. a rustle in the bushes from behind you startled you, causing you to jump and turn around quickly. treech had come back, his hands behind his back.

     “whatcha got there?” you queried, swimming over to him as he kneeled by the water. he just smiled, pulling out a bouquet of colorful wildflowers from behind him. vibrant pink poppies, orange lilies, mauve colored petunias, a few orchids scattered here and there, and yellow wallflowers galore all seemed to bloom from his hand. you were in complete and utter astonishment at the bundle of flowers and the work he had gone through to pick them for you. they were tied together with a loose stem, and you delicately took them from his hand. mother nature’s sweet scent wafted from the stunning plants, instantly soothing you. “these are beautiful, treech,” he grinned, eyes lighting up with pride. his smile always made you melt, and the way his hazel eyes, speckled with green and honey tones, glowed golden in the sun made him seem ethereal. laying the flowers down gently on the grass beside treech, you draped your arms around his neck, placing a tender kiss on his lips. treech gradually joined you in the water, but not before you plucked the sole, pale blue morning glory from the bouquet and tucked it behind his ear, brushing his curls out of his eyes. he took your hand as you guided him further into the pond. the two of you splashed around, laughing for hours until your fingers pruned.

     treech had to drag you out of the water as the sun got lower and lower, the sky growing a burnt orange. you groaned playfully, but shook the water out of your hair anyway, allowing it to drip on the grass below you. the earth felt cool and damp under your bare feet, and the wind blew against your body, making you shiver. quickly, you slipped your shirt over your head, and tied your skirt around your waist, hoping to gain some warmth from the items of clothing that had been strewn out in the sun all day. it seemed to work, but your arms were still bare and the wind was picking up. treech noticed the goosebumps that had formed all along your forearms, and he helped you into his wool coat. smiling, you thanked him, grateful for the extra source of heat. gracefully, you picked up your dainty bouquet of flowers. intertwining your fingers with his, treech led you out of the familiar woods, taking you down the roads of district seven, back to your home. like the gentleman he was, treech walked you to your door, waiting to make sure you got inside safely before leaving. he was just about to leave as you slipped through the front door, but you called his name before he could go any further. he raised his eyebrows, urging you to go on.

     “i love you,” you professed, coyly.

     “i love you more,” treech declared with a smile, before promptly turning and bidding you goodnight, the flower still adorning his hair. 

[hearts4blyth]

“𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠”

!peacekeeper coryo x fem reader! 🍃🧺🎀 ࿔*:･

summary : you and corio have a picnic around the lake

♡︎away for a month but wtvv , think this one is longer than my last fanfic but hope you enjoy! any criticism or corrections are appreciated ♡︎

note ; bye wasn’t even my intention to make this a lil bit long but im jumping off a bridge tomorrow

(finally a moment where Corio and y/n could have a moment of peace and quietness away from the people,away from the districts and away from the capital.)

your down in the trail with coriolanus beside you with the slight breeze hitting your strands of hair and the sun hitting its reflection through your little sundress,the laughter and with the blades of grass ticking your ankles

of course it wasn’t much bother to Coriolanus much just wearing his same peacekeeper uniform pants and just his white tank.

continuing their trail, following you wondering where this picnic could be.

“cmon coryo!” you smiled at him and exclaimed in a tone of a jokingly matter

then right after you reach for his hand so maybe by that he could keep up with your pace. coryo didn’t quite understand what you were all rushed up for but he didn’t say a thing, just finding it a bit obnoxious but either way he found your ways cute.

without even realizing it your finally at the spot, being distracted by the atmosphere nothing like the capital that’s for sure. with the weeds and grass just growing wildly , the sound of the lake and its waters , flowers blooming beautifully looking like the dress you were wearing matching perfectly.

୨ ࿔*:･

“isn’t it beautiful?” you ask letting go of coryo’s hand, in glee turning around, coryo smiles back at you and agrees exclaiming “better than i thought” he gives out a small scoff and it is beyond of what he could imagine sure a few mosquitos were pissing him off down in the trail but he just wanted to see you happy having this moment with him.

coryo taking over and helping you with setting down the picnic mat, after then sitting down on the mat you take out a small piece of loaf bread and a jar of homemade jam, spreading the jam into the loaf you give it to coryo and takes it as he sinks his teeth into the bread you gave him.

you then sit back and relax with the breeze setting down more with the warmth hitting your skin, grabbing a cherry from the basket and taking a bite from it leaving a cherry tint stain on your reddened lips.

just a quiet moment between you enjoying the atmosphere you sit up and turn you body to face coryo and ask him if there’s anything like this in the capital. he replies with a small response saying “nothing i see here could be seen over there, buildings and reconstruction just.”

sharing a moment like this,with your smile and the sound of laughter coming from each other, and having bites from the pickings you brought.

digging your teeth for a small bite of another cherry leaving a tint of it on your lips, and leaning your head down onto Coriolanus shoulder, turning his head down and seeing your lips with the taints of cherry on those lips, making him tilt your head up and having a sweet passionate kiss as an excuse to get rid of the stain from your lips.

you let go from the little kiss, then laying your head down on his lap caressing her hair then leaning in for another kiss but was filled with a more longer stroke of passion. letting go, both are just smiling under each others gazes with y/n caressing coryo’s sharp cheekbones then letting go with both admiring the quietness of the atmosphere again.

♡︎ i hoped yall liked it! if you’d like please consider reblogging this, which helps on gaining reach n ppl liking this! tyty for reading ! ︎♡︎

[mapping-elysium]

LONESOME LONG WAY HOME

Heading southwest of Martinaise

Courtyards = the abandoned housing and the fishing village?

Le Domaine Eminent

in North Jamrock, past the motorway

Main and Perdition appears to be the rough address for the Precinct

HEADING "HOME"

Past the 41st [heading east/west]

through the market

Boogie Street Spearhead

I think this means the north end since it stretches all the way to Faubourg in the south

Around meteor lake

turn on Voyager road past the video rental

PROBLEM

Let’s rewind. Let’s trace your drunken steps back home. Jump across the raised channel bridge south-west of here. Fall over. Get up. Get off the asphalt in 20 minutes, shuffle your feet through courtyards, scaring little children. Go under the great raised motor-tract, the 8/81, until you reach le domaine éminent in North Jamrock. The streets are frozen this time of year, caked with ice. Walk down Main, to Perdition -- there’s a side alley there and your footprints in the mud...

SOLUTION

...here we go. Home awaits. Walk past Station 41 and through the market. Past the Boogie Street spearhead to the other side of the lake -- the frozen eye at the center of the district. Then past the video rental store on the corner. There, at the end of a street lined with pine trees: a small house, no larger than a matchbox. 11 Voyager Road. You no longer live there. Those times are gone, and so are those people. Why did you come here? Why are you still here? And where’s the dealer? You have to get back to work. That’s all you have now.

[sitp-recs]

Hi liv! I hope you’re having a great Friday! Do you have any recs for a “rainy romance” like something that may feature a lot of rain but is just cozy in essence. Think Little Compton Street maybe? Something that maybe one could read while listening to piano and rain sounds? Thanks for allllll that you do!!!!!

Hi anon, happy weekend! Oh I love this ask, as you know LCS is one of my all-time favorite fics and I really love the idea of a rainy, cozy love story to lose myself in. This got long enough so I’m also linking HP Drizzle Fest for more recs. I hope you enjoy, some fics are a bit melancholy but I still think they’re a great fit:

The Reason to Start Again by @phdmama (T, 2k)

The rain that’s been pouring down all day has finally tapered off, leaving the streets wet and a heavy mist hanging in the air. It’s warm and cosy inside the pub, and it’s been 362 days since Draco packed his bags and walked away.

Sky Full of Song by @writcraft (T, 2k)

Draco turns up at Harry's birthday party unexpectedly and Harry takes a leap of faith.

Petrichor by @tsauergrass (G, 2k)

After the war, Draco found himself uncontrollably drawn to the rain.

waltzing lights by @piarelei (T, 4k)

The rain is cold, the boat shaky and all that Draco can find comfort in is the warmth of Potter's presence. Or, Draco is a miserable sod and decides to take action.

Rainfall by Saras_Girl (T, 4k)

So what if Draco has a rain kink? Everyone likes something weird.

Twenty Minutes Till Free Fall by BelladonnaLee (T, 5k)

A night of rain. A bare-boned safe house. A clandestine meeting between a spy and his case officer. Being with Harry is like falling through the air—and Draco isn't sure he wants to stop.

Rain by Omi_Ohmy (NR, 5k)

Luna is getting married, and old friends meet up. It's too hot, and everything's changing for everyone except for Harry, who is still mooning after Draco.

A Little Understanding by disapparater (G, 6k)

Everybody needs good neighbours. During a storm, Harry turns to his newest neighbour for help.

Harmony (Left-Handed Melody Remix) by mindabbles (M, 6k)

He is the last person Draco was expecting, but then again, this is not a place Draco ever expected to be.

Howl by @tackytigerfic (M, 9k)

After an encounter with a vicious werewolf, Draco Malfoy wakes in a field hospital with a mangled shoulder, a furry little problem, and an inconvenient crush on Harry Potter. Potter, meanwhile, is still trying to save the world, only this time he wants Draco right there with him while he does it.

Impervius by ravenclawsquill (E, 11k)

Harry and Draco are working together on a case in the beautiful English Lake District. Or, it would be beautiful if only it would stop raining. Fortunately, Harry has an umbrella. Unfortunately, it's pink and frilly, and Draco would rather die than share it with him.

Voices From The Fog by @noeeon (E, 13k)

After years of running away, Harry crosses paths with an all-too familiar face and follows him to Amsterdam.

Exiled by A_factorygirl_69 (E, 16k)

Draco is declared persona non grata by the Ministry after the War. Harry has been tasked with keeping an eye on him, ensuring he stays out of England.

Bound To You by agentmoppet (E, 21k)

Hag magic is capricious and unruly, and Harry and Draco are bound to stay by each other’s side until they can solve the riddle. In between long car trips, misty rain, and midnight star charts, they begin to understand each other.

Thunder by keyflight790 (E, 21k)

The storm will disappear; the rain will subside; but what's left in its wake will last forever. A story of love and loss, redemption and thunder.

The Isle of Discussion by @shealwaysreads (E, 22k)

Harry and Draco arrive at the shores of Loch Leven to record the magical history of the land. They’re friends now, but up there in the Highlands, amidst the trees and sky and that wild expanse of water their own past is more present than ever; a gap they still can’t bridge. Magic illuminates the truth, but it is Harry and Draco who have to speak it. Happily, it turns out that honesty is, in fact, the best policy.

Better To Burn Than To Fade Away by Ren (E, 23k)

Harry Potter is a legend in the world of broomstick racing. He's won almost every cup, trophy, and bowl – except for the historical London-Nome which has been on hiatus for the past several years. Now the London-Nome is starting again, and Harry will do anything to pull off one last big win.

War Wounds by SilentAuror (E, 30k)

Some wounds take longer to recover from than others.

To Vanish Into Something Better by @m0srael (E, 35k)

Harry Potter thought he could outrun the burden of infamy by isolating himself in the Muggle world. Draco Malfoy hasn’t been seen or heard from since his trial. Will a top-secret Ministry project, a beautiful garden, and a little heat carry them both home?

The July Tree by @oknowkiss (E, 51k)

Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail… nor well-meaning friends, nor questionable communication skills, nor seven years of hating each other’s guts can keep Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy from falling in love.

Nightcall by Femme and noeon (E, 116k)

A hideously mauled corpse is found sprawled across the paving stones of Brick Lane in the East End of London. Inspector Harry Potter--widely believed to be the lead candidate for next Deputy Head Auror--is called in to investigate a possible magical crime. To make matters worse, his occasional lover and former school-nemesis, Viscount Draco Malfoy, now billing himself as a consulting criminologist, shows up at the crime scene to aid in the investigation of the suspicious death.

Taking Chances by @gracerene (E, 135k)

After the war, Draco disappeared and started over in America, vowing never to return to Great Britain and the fraught past he left behind. Unfortunately, when his mates convince him to sign up for an exchange programme for the last year of their Auror Training, Draco learns that he doesn't have much of a choice in the matter.

Artwork:

in my solitude comes our rain by @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm

Rain by @istehlurvz

Rain of Fate by @lilbeanz

[retrobassgirl]

I have just returned home from a wonderful long walk up this beautiful valley. This is upper Longsleddale in Westmorland in the English Lake District. For those of you with children like myself, the valley was the inspiration for the 'Postman Pat' books. The valley extends from near Kendal, up into the high peaks above Shap.

The walk takes you over the high Gatescarth Pass into Mardale. It begins a little lower down the valley where the metalled road ends with the little stone bridge over the River Sprint.

[stromuprisahat]

Grand Palace and Ravkan Royal Family

Siege and Storm- Chapter 12

Ordinarily, the royal family would have spent the hot months at their summer palace in the lake district. But Os Alta was more easily defended, and they’d chosen to hunker down behind its famous double walls. ... ... Os Alta, the Dream City, its spires white and jagged against the cloudless sky.  ... “I thought you’d be in Caryeva for the races.” ... We crossed the wide canal and left the noise and tumult of the lower town behind. I noticed that the bridge’s gatehouse had been heavily fortified, but when we reached the far bank, it seemed that nothing in the upper town had changed. The broad boulevards were spotless and serene, the stately homes carefully maintained. We passed a park where fashionably turned out men and women strolled the manicured paths or took the air in open carriages. Children played at babki, watched over by their nannies, and a boy in a straw hat rode by on a pony with ribbons in its braided mane, the reins held by a uniformed servant. ... ... we reached the golden gates of the Grand Palace. ... When we reached the double eagle fountain, Tolya helped me from my horse. I squinted up at the Grand Palace, its gleaming white terraces crammed with layer after layer of gold ornament and statuary. It was just as ugly and intimidating as I remembered. Vasily handed the reins of his mount to a waiting servant and headed up the marble steps without a backward glance. ... Inside, the halls of the palace were silent as we passed from room to glittering room. Our footfalls echoed on the polished parquet... ... A long, pale blue carpet stretched the length of the room. At the end of it, a group of elegantly dressed courtiers and advisers milled around a raised dais. Above them all sat the King and Queen of Ravka, on matching golden thrones.

[hottubraccoon]

Great Kettering; land of Artistry and Pride.

south-east corner of the continent, primarily orc citizens

Character SHORT List:

Dima Grimscale

Dragonrider 2.0

Erick Livan

Felix Enrel

Harry Enrel

Julia Violet

Lindsey Livan

Miss Seashell

Pent Enrel

Kent Darkwater

thomashetzler on Unsplash.

Geography:

Great Kettering is based on the UK islands physical geography*. Great Kettering has slight weather changes with the seasons, primarily an increase in humidity and less rainfall in the summer months. Mostly known to be cold and wet overall. Tsunamis can happen along the coast to the south, and south-east. Earthquakes are small distant shakes from the far west. Droughts are rare and only in very dire situations. Lots of coastal towns are on the coast cliffs rather than the coast, and therefore are generally safe from the usual tsunamis that occur. Boat living... isn't uncommon yet dangerous depending on the time of year (hence the phrase, sturdy like GK's fishers). Earthquakes aren't an issue just noticeable along the west border. Great winters are prepared for a lot like Solistal does. 

*but only when I feel like it lol

Architecture:

GK is a mix of my personal headcanons for orcs and fantasy England. The most common form of landmark is the stone/moss circles, each with their own pattern, like a fingerprint. Generally, only those born in the area will be familiar with these landmarks without a map. Because of this, the moss circles are speculated to be linked to the orc-ish Aeons religion. Kelp forests are a special sight along GK coasts. The most well known location in GK is the sunken castle, and its bridges to nowhere. One explanation is that the coastal cliff was washed away and the castle was too heavy so it fell into the ocean to be forgotten, another blames the mythological 'Thorns' for putting it their during one of their tantrums. For a foreigner, the knight tourneys are a highly anticipated event due to the invitation of both the highest king and lowest servant. Most towns start with a safe drinking water source in the middle, market and community buildings around that, then common dwellings around those. For Kettering, the capital, there are 'districts' that citizens must get permits to build inside. These districts help with deliveries, city planning, guard patrols, and lock down procedures. Again, most towns are situated along the south coast, and it's either the direct coast or, if the cliffs are too severe, then it'll be as high on a hill they can get while still in viewing distance of the sea. On the north side of Great Kettering, it still follows the idea of the highest hills. Including Kettering, which itself has a 'natural moat' around it, although the city surrounding the castle has since expanded further around the lake as well. In smaller towns, people are clumped together, tiny and people live in each others pockets, whereas bigger towns are more spacious. That said, construction is trending towards taller rather than wider. Common structures are in the easy to acquire and transport materials, where the elegant marbles and quartz are left for Kettering or other religious sites in other large towns.

Trade/Commerce:

GK trade away seafood for different 'exotic' foods and their artisans are highly sorted after. They import from Solistal for specialty materials to craft with. Kamikita holds a chokehold on trading routes and this frustrates GK. They import from Birkina for island herbs and spices, as well as dyes for their crafts. Can be self-sufficient if trades were to be suddenly cut. The world trade is currency based but smaller store keepers accept barters... if you can talk them into it. Solistal's ores/minerals and their jewelcrafters are flaunted as expensive goods and a highly requested import. Whereas 'seals' or magical coins are the least sought after. GK's embroiders are the most asked for export.

sapegin on Unsplash.

Other Parts:

For Great Kettering. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

For Solistal. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

For Kamikita. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

For Birkina. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

[myvacationsbooking]

Europe Tour: Let's go With Us.

Europe Tour: Amsterdam, Paris, Switzerland, Venice, Florence, and Rome

European memories past some of the most iconic cities of the continent, from quaint canals in Amsterdam to eternal romance in Paris, via the grand Swiss Alps, the bewitching beauty of Venice, and on to the ancient wonders of Florence and Rome. Each of these destinations comes with a different feel of European culture, history, and charm.

1. Day 1–2: Amsterdam, The Netherlands

Start your European journey in Amsterdam, a city known for its picturesque canals, world-class museums, and vibrant culture: Things to Do:

Rijksmuseum & Van Gogh Museum: To finally see the masterworks of the Dutch and breathtaking works of Van Gogh.

Canal Cruise: Take a boat tour and enjoy the architectural beauty of Amsterdam.

Jordaan District: Walk down narrow streets lined with boutique shops, cafes, and art galleries.

Vondelpark: Take a break in the most famous park of the city.

2. Day 3–4: Paris, France

Next stop: Paris, the City of Lights! From its iconic landmarks to rich history, Paris is a must-see. Things to Do:

Eiffel Tower: Go up and enjoy the arresting panoramic views of the city.

Louvre Museum-home to the Mona Lisa and thousands of other famous world-renowned works of art.

Notre Dame & Sainte-Chapelle: Be amazed by these Gothic masterpieces with their breathtaking stained glass.

Champs-Élysées & Arc de Triomphe: This is a walk down the most famous avenue, culminating in visiting this national symbol.

3. Day 5–6: Switzerland (Zurich & Lucerne)

Switzerland offers stunning natural beauty with its majestic mountains and clear lakes. Begin with Zurich before heading to Lucerne for the quintessential Swiss experience. Things to Do:

Zurich: A walk through Old Town, a boat ride on Lake Zurich, or visit the Swiss National Museum.

Lucerne: Walk across the Chapel Bridge with a view toward the Swiss Alps.

Pilatus or Rigi Mountain: Take a day trip up either of these two close mountains for hiking or a cable car ride.

Interlaken & Jungfrau: Still thirsty for more alpine adventures, head to the Top of Europe for its panoramic views and snow sports.

4. Day 7–8: Venice, Italy

From Switzerland, fly or take a train to Venice, one of the most romantic cities in Europe. Things to Do:

St. Mark's Basilica: Look in wonder at the mosaics and the architectural beauty of this location.

Grand Canal & Rialto Bridge: A gondola ride or Vaporetto up the famous canal.

Doge's Palace: Go for a tour around this historic seat of the Venetian power.

Burano & Murano: See these colorful islands known for lace making and blowing during this excursion.

5.Day 9–10: Florence, Italy

Florence, the heart of Tuscany and the cradle of the Renaissance, will captivate art and history lovers. Things to Do:

Uffizi Gallery & Accademia Gallery: Marvel at the works from Michelangelo, Botticelli, and da Vinci.

Duomo & Giotto's Bell Tower: Climb to the top for sweeping views of Florence.

Ponte Vecchio: Cross this iconic bridge known for its jewelry shops.

Piazzale Michelangelo: Enjoy the view while the sun is setting in Florence.

6. Day 11-12: Rome, Italy

Your journey ends in Rome, the Eternal City. History comes alive with ancient ruins, grand monuments, and Renaissance art. Things to Do:

Colosseum & Roman Forum: Travel back in time to ancient Rome and just envision those gladiatorial combats.

Pantheon: See this ancient temple dedicated to all gods.

Trevi Fountain: It permits people, according to its tradition, to throw a coin into the water for good luck and in order not to forget their return to Rome.

Travel Tips:

Trains: Europe has a very intensive web of trains; hence, it is the best way to travel, especially between big cities.

Flights: Budget airlines can be a good option to travel greater distances, such as from Switzerland to Venice.

Currency: All listed destinations use the Euro except Switzerland, which uses the Swiss Franc as official currency.

Packing: An individual will need comfortable shoes when touring cities like Paris and Rome, which include lots of walking.

Book Now Your Trip With Us! Contact Us:- +91 9818 78115, Visit Form Link.

This itinerary gives you the perfect blend of vibrant cities, historical wonders, and stunning landscapes. Enjoy your European adventure!

[mostlydeadallday]

Lost Kin | Chapter XXX | On Friendly Terms

Fandom: Hollow Knight Rating: Mature Characters: Hornet, Pure Vessel | Hollow Knight, Quirrel Category: Gen Content Warnings: memory loss, referenced suicidal ideation, body horror AO3:Lost Kin | Chapter XXX | On Friendly Terms First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Chronological Notes: Quirrel arrives on Hornet's doorstep. Quirrel travels a lot slower than Hornet can. Mainly by virtue of not being able to fly. She may have forgotten to account for this. (She also has forgotten a lot of social niceties. For instance: how to greet someone who knocks at your front door.) I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts on the addition of Quirrel's POV. Truthfully, he's been a new sort of challenge, but I think he makes a good foil to the other two, and it looks like he'll be a regular feature of this fic going forward!

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It had been a long day.

Several days, in fact, although life underground tended to blur those lines into oblivion. It had been mid-afternoon by Quirrel’s sleep cycle when Hornet left him staring after her over the placid surface of the lake, only a faint, dying ripple caused by the breeze of her passing to show she had even been there.

By the time he collected himself and his belongings—which amounted to pulling his nail out of the ground and sheathing it again, with as little thought directed toward the action as possible—and traveled deeper, the light had gone in the City caverns.

He stopped for the night, then spent most of the next “day” attempting to reorient himself and identify the best route to take, as well as looting several promising areas for supplies. Hornet had not exactly left him with a wishlist, but he was clinging to his vague desire to be helpful as meagre warmth against the cold wasteland in his mind.

One would think having one’s memories restored would make a mind feel full, crowded, even, but it was only emptier than ever.

Quirrel spent a second night near the King’s Station and continued onward once the light returned, with a few stops to forage for a meal before he made his way across the upper bridges and began his search of the houses in the nobles’ quarter.

He was already tired. Returning to the City always required several days’ adjustment, as the artificial light cycle appealed to some time in his species’ distant past, when his ancestors had lived aboveground.

Or… had he returned to the city more than once? The word always in the phrase he had just used made him question.

He supposed it was likely he had lived outside the city and returned to it before. His knowledge of the light cycle’s effect on his physiology suggested so. The Archives had had no such convenience, the acid tubes glowing their soft, flickering green whether the scholars were awake or asleep.

His occupation must have required him to venture into the city periodically, for him to remember so much when he arrived. He could recall the locations of some streets, had been able to head straight to the merchants’ district for supplies, and several times found himself standing in front of buildings that seemed hauntingly familiar. Certain places seemed to roll out before him in his memory, neatly marked and delineated, like a map stretched beneath his feet.

The nobles’ quarter was not one of those places.

So far, his search had been fruitless, yielding only ruined interiors, smashed windows, and a persistent stench of mildew that clung to his kerchief, despite it being soaked many times over, handily reminding him via the constant dribble of rainwater down his back.

He missed the weight of her mask on his head, he missed the effortless motion of his nail in his hand, he missed the dreamless sleep, the monotonous days, he missed when everything had been easy—

Quirrel shook himself, spraying water in an arc from the beaded tassel under his chin, and approached the next house.

Hornet’s directions had the parameters of a logic puzzle. If she had thought it important to tell him that her house had no curtains, that detail should have made it stand out from the others, but it did not. There were dozens of houses whose curtains had simply given up over the years and now lay in puddled heaps on the floor, each layer adhered to the next in a mass of fibers that would rip the whole thing apart if anyone was foolish enough to pick it up.

The stasis had failed in strange and varying ways. Some places in the kingdom were untouched, as if the bugs who lived there had simply walked out one day, leaving their belongings where they lay, and never returned. Often in these places he half-expected to find a cup of cooling tea on the table, or blankets still warm upon the beds.

And then between one stride and the next he would be in another time entirely, the road pitted and crumbling beneath his feet, houses slumping in on themselves, every veneer of civilization rotted away. If he stared too long, these structures stopped looking like structures at all, their purpose slowly eroding until what had once been mansions, theatres, libraries, hospitals, were indistinguishable from the carved cavern walls.

Part of him marveled that a kingdom as vibrant as he now knew Hallownest had been could vanish so completely into obscurity. Ravaged by its gods, haunted by their wrongs, shambling onward in a mockery of life, black regret and blinding rage pooling in its footsteps…

He let out a shaky sigh and tore his gaze away, ignoring the sense that the house continued staring at him after he turned his back. He wasn’t likely to find Hornet in that ruin.

From what he knew of her, she did not seem like the type who would tolerate a door with no lock, or a house with no door—of which he had seen plenty. Broken windows were likely also out of the question. With these generous boundaries set, he had still been wandering for hours, and had had to search eighteen—now nineteen—houses, his throat growing scratchy from the smell, and the brace of tiktiks over his shoulder becoming steadily less and less fresh.

This one looked promising so far. There was no light in the windows anywhere, but said windows were curtainless, and it was in better condition than the two on either side of it. Not the most lavish accommodations, but serviceable. Certainly better than where he’d spent the night.

He knocked.

He would open the door regardless of whether anyone answered, at least to browse through the house and find anything worthwhile, and to ensure he hadn’t missed her by chance. Still, knocking was a courtesy—and a precaution, as he didn’t think it wise to startle someone who could skewer him at thirty paces.

His attempt to find her had turned into more of an ordeal than he expected. It could hardly have been more difficult than if she’d been a fabled princess of lore. At this point, if and when she opened any of these doors, he was half expecting a demand that he answer her riddles three.

The door banged open, with a tremendous crash of doorknob against wall.

Quirrel jumped back. His hand landed on his nail hilt before he registered the bright red and pure white of Hornet’s silhouette, and remembered that this was a spectacularly bad way to greet her.

He let go of the nail as if it burned him, despite every instinct screaming that he draw it. That had nearly doomed him once before, and he recalled all too well the silver comet-streak of the needle she held now, as it split his vision and impacted the mask atop his head with a bone-jarring shock of spell against spell.

Not an experience he ever cared to repeat, unless it was on friendly terms, and he had a running start.

He had thought this meeting would be on friendly terms. After she had confessed to him, with the suppressed panic of a swimmer who’d lost sight of shore, that she did not know what to do. But she did not move, did not speak, did not even lower her needle.

At least no riddles were forthcoming.

Quirrel drew breath to speak, to apologize for his tardiness, to re-introduce himself, anything, and she interrupted him.

“Just a moment,” she said, and closed the door in his face.

Rain washed down his mask. Droplets jumped in the puddles. Quirrel’s hand hovered in midair, above his nail.

Hornet opened the door again, after far too short an interval to have done anything meaningful except, perhaps, put down her needle—which she notably had not done.

“Come inside,” she said, breathless, and any joke or quip he might have made slipped back down his throat. He swallowed and stepped forward, over the threshold, and she shut the door behind him.

He had no time to register more than the dimness of the room before Hornet threw the bolt, hissed “Stay here,” and left him blinking in the antechamber.

Curiosity sprouted like a weed in his mind, but anything other than inspecting the little he could see through the doorway seemed like a dangerous prospect. He adjusted the weight of his catch on his shoulder, then pulled off his kerchief and wrung it out, tying the damp fabric back on over his antennae.

Blue light lay in a hazy rectangle on the stained, rumpled rug at his feet. When he paused to listen, Hornet’s voice carried from the next room, tone urgent but soft, and she paused before resuming, though he’d heard no answer in return.

Had she not been expecting him?

He grimaced. He had told her about his plans after leaving the lakeshore. Plans like those didn’t tend to inspire confidence in one’s ability to keep appointments.

A rustle of cloth announced Hornet’s approach. She had put down her needle, this time. He bowed when she stepped through the doorway, though not as deeply as before—if she preferred her given name to her title, she might not want that title acknowledged in other ways, either.

“I do apologize for the delay.” He straightened, hand still resting on his chest-plate. “In my defense, I needed to restock my supplies, and your directions left something to be desired.”

She closed her eyes briefly, black eyelids flickering shut over dark brown lenses. “You apologize far too much.”

And you don’t apologize at all.

He stifled the response, though not before his mandibles twitched. His reflexive tendency toward gentle teasing had already proven unproductive with Hornet.

Before he could find anything less pointed to say, she spoke. “I did not know… when to expect you.”

An apology, of sorts, though the unspoken if stung like venom.

“Have I arrived at a bad time?” he asked, tentatively, with a glance over her shoulder at the visible sliver of parlor.

A sigh hissed through her fangs, and her gaze dropped. “There are no good times.”

“Ah.” He looked away, staring at one of the astonishingly boring portraits on the wall behind her. The ache in his arm demanded his attention, and he straightened, proffering the fresh—or slightly less than fresh—kills. “I’ve been told it’s Deepnest tradition to offer dinner to a hunter. These were dressed and cleaned this morning, though I fear they’re a bit waterlogged now.”

She reached slowly forward, fangs working under her mask with evident surprise. Or anticipation—he had very little experience reading spiders, let alone the single known spiderwyrm. Either way, she took them, her motions betraying a caution he had done very little to inspire. “Who told you that?”

His mouth opened before he realized he had no answer. He’d obviously expected to have one once he did so, but the fact that his muscle memory was intact did not mean the rest of it was.

The silence stretched awkwardly before Hornet hoisted the string of kills and appraised them. “I accept,” she said, and weighed them in her hand before lowering them again. “They are… appreciated.”

Her other hand clenched and reopened, feeling, perhaps, the lack of her weapon, and then disappeared somewhere under her cloak as she seemed to notice herself fidgeting. “I have little to offer in return, I’m afraid.”

“I take vanilla and honey in my tea,” Quirrel said, deadpan, wondering how he knew that, and Hornet snorted, and he was left feeling as if he had won something, though if the prize was her amusement, it faded after a short moment.

“It has been a long time since I had a front door to knock on,” she began, and stopped.

“Which might explain your reaction,” he offered, generously.

Damn it. He hadn’t been able to stifle it this time, and it earned him a glare. “This situation is… less than ideal,” she said stiffly. “My hospitality will be somewhat lacking. This house was only a temporary shelter of mine; I was not prepared to stay here for long periods.”

Until? he wondered, but kept his mouth shut. She was here, she had let him in; she would explain sooner or later.

“I require very little,” he returned, accepting what seemed like yet another roundabout apology. “I have lived on the road for far too long to need much.”

Hornet nodded, but did not look him in the eye. Embarrassed? Lost for words? She did not seem like the type for either, but despite her insistence that there were no good times, he had the sense that he had interrupted something, that his arrival had tipped some kind of scale, and she was now fumbling to rebalance.

Her fangs worked under her mask again, pale points flashing, though not in a threat, as it seemed to be when she lifted her chin to display them. They tightened into a grimace as she reached a conclusion she did not appear to be happy with, and she whispered an oath under her breath, one he could honestly say he never expected to hear in the mouth of a princess.

“You must do exactly as I say.” She raised a hand to forestall a protest he had not intended to utter. “For your safety, and my own, and that of my sibling. I do not ask this lightly.”

“Understood,” he said, and she eyed him, and he resisted the urge to elaborate. Verbose as he could be, his word held the most weight when he spoke simply, and after a moment she nodded and continued.

“I do not know how my sibling will take your arrival. I have told them you are a friend, and that I trust you, but I am still unsure how much they understand, or what might cause them to react.” Her next exhale was shaky, and she hastened to speak again. “Wounded as they are, they are still strong, and quicker than they look. I advise that you stay to the opposite side of the room, near the hearth, unless I tell you to approach.”

Perhaps this should not intrigue him as much as it did. He almost wished he had peeked through the doorway, if she intended to delay him in the entry much longer.

Before he agreed to this latest set of conditions, she forged onward. “In addition, please refrain from asking questions. I will explain later, but… they should need to sleep soon. I shall be happy to answer whatever you ask then.”

“Agreed.”

She looked as though she had expected him to object. He did not, but she let the silence stretch for a moment longer before she believed it.

Taking a hesitant step toward the parlor, she halted, then spun around again. “And perhaps it would be best if you left your nail out of sight. I don’t know what they might do if you appeared to threaten me.”

She looked truly apologetic for this request, in a way she had not for the others. Perhaps that made sense, if he imagined someone asking her to part with her own weapon.

“Appearing unthreatening is no trouble,” he said with a half-laugh, drawing his nail and leaning it against the door frame. His gaze lingered for a moment before he yanked it away. His next words warbled a little. “Rather the inverse is usually true.”

“Hm,” Hornet responded, and the way she scanned him head to claws made him want to laugh again, warm amusement washing over chilly regret.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, after a long moment where she didn’t move.

“No.” She shook herself, and when she turned away there were spikes bristling on the back of her neck, pushing at the collar of her cloak.

Fascinating.

He thought she might conjure yet another reason to delay him, but instead she stepped through the doorway, and after a deep breath, he followed.

He immediately amended parlor to great room; the ceiling soared up into the second story, with tall arched windows on the opposite wall that looked out onto a rather lovely rain garden. The floor and walls were bare, without any of the customary carpets and hangings, though the imprints were still there, ghosts of luxury hastily stripped away. A collection of towels and linens hung from every available surface, and an unlit chandelier dangled crookedly from the ceiling’s apex.

And on the floor in front of him—

“Oh,” he said, and then, when all other words failed him, “Oh, my.”

 The creature lying atop the pile of mattresses and pillows would have turned any head in Hallownest in their prime. For a moment he could perceive nothing but the size of them. Curled slightly on their side, knees bent, arm draped across their abdomen, they made at least two of him, and their lower legs were still hidden under the ragged blankets bunched at the end of the bed. Their mask was another wonder altogether: horns pure white and triple-pointed, sweeping improbably high and coming to a gentle point at their muzzle, the seamless shape interrupted only by a pair of tapered black eyeholes that showed nothing but darkness beneath.

That, and the jagged crack that tracked through one socket, splitting their jaw and the base of one horn before curving out of sight behind their head.

Quirrel blinked. As if the crack in their mask was a flaw in the spell, his stunned daze fell away, and his next breath was sharp, almost a gasp, though he caught it and cut it off. He had the sudden urge to hold himself still, to stifle every sound, as if anything he did might hurt them, any action shatter them the rest of the way.

Their shell was scored with cracks—narrow slashes, deep punctures, shallow fracture lines that webbed from points of impact. Lower on their body, he thought he saw the subtle rippling patterns of offensive soul-spells branded into their legs. Not even their arms had been spared—

Oh, no.

What he had taken at first for a scrap of ratty fabric across their left shoulder was their skin. No shell, not even fragments—it was simply gone. As was their arm; he could see a shallow dip where the socket should be, but nothing else remained, the structure so withered and eaten away that he would be hard-pressed to identify much more.

Horrified as he was, he could not look away, though his gut twisted queasily when he noticed that the shell at the edges of the wound was deformed and roughened in a way he had only seen on burns from acid or extreme heat.

Their arm had not been cut or torn off. It had melted away.

When his gaze finally went to the blisters pushing through the cracks in their chest, the other wounds made an awful sort of sense. His hand dropped to his side, falling through empty air when he failed to find the hilt of his nail.

Hornet. Hornet had asked him to leave it behind.

He took a deeper breath to still the sudden hammer-pulse of fear in his chest. She knew what she was doing, she had lived in this kingdom far longer than he had, she would surely have the sense not to ask him to step weaponless into a room with someone infected.

The Hollow Knight had not moved, and neither had Quirrel, still just inside the doorway, within reach of his weapon and escape. If they had intended to slaughter him, they could have done it by now, and easily—regardless of the fact that Hornet stood in the way, half-turned to keep both of them in view, spikes bristling beneath her cloak, one hand held halfway out, as if to halt an altercation.

Held out not toward her sibling, but toward Quirrel.

He choked on a brief surge of indignation. What was he meant to do against that? If they wished to kill him, they simply would.

He had wondered before whether he could best his traveling friend—the other vessel—in combat. As their encounters grew more frequent, and he had more cause to observe them, he had come solidly down on an answer in the negative. The most he could hope for was to assist them, to be on the same side of whatever conflict arose at the time. He was not fool enough to fight a force of nature.

They had been a fourth this size. If that.

Hornet was glaring fixedly at him. He could only hope she wasn’t capable of injecting venom through intimidating looks as well as through more traditional means.

Quirrel pushed the fear back. Again. Spread both hands, away from his sides, and empty. She relaxed a touch, and he nodded at her.

Then he took another breath, and looked back at the Hollow Knight.

Despite the instinctive push to run, to fight, to do anything but stand still, he made himself do just that. Made himself exist with the impossibility of it, waiting for the answer to reveal itself.

He had never seen injuries this extensive on a bug that was still living.

His first assumption had been that the infection was keeping them alive. It certainly had the capacity to do so, if some of the more grotesque husks he had seen were any indication. Physical symptoms did not manifest in those who were not mentally infected as well; one preceded the other, in every case he knew of, and the condition progressed until the individual was fully taken over, prey to the whims of the murderous rage that had poisoned their dreams.

Hornet’s sibling did not seem murderous. Or enraged. They lay in exactly the same position they had been in when he stepped through the doorway, as if frozen in place, for all the world like he was a threat to them.

And perhaps he was, he thought, remembering his first impression that any move he made might break them into pieces. Hornet certainly seemed to think so. Although if they were not dead already, he doubted anything he could do would kill them.

It broke all the accepted patterns of the infection, but the Hollow Knight was alive, unchained, both infected and not. Their chest pulsed with rot, swollen sacs of orange pressing their wounds open, but their eyes were as clear and dark as the bottom of a well, fixed firmly to his face, waiting for whatever they clearly expected him to do.

Clear and dark did not mean empty, however, and the intensity of their gaze pressed against his mask like a cold hand, leaving no doubt that something there was watching him. Closely.

His gaze flicked to Hornet, and once again he resorted to the exact opposite of his instincts. Moving slowly, he stepped around the edge of the room until he reached the furthest point away, then sat down on the hearth, resting his back against the chilly slate.

Truthfully, it was the last thing he wanted to do. But if the two godspawn in the room both insisted on eying him as if he might explode, it was one of the few unequivocally unthreatening actions he could think of.

He couldn’t exactly relax, not with those two dark gazes pinned on him, but it did feel good to sit after hours of walking.

Hornet, after a further moment of tension, seemed to accept that Quirrel and her sibling were not going to fly at each other’s throats. She expelled a breath that shook slightly and stepped closer to the vessel, sinking to her knees near their head, turning her gaze away from Quirrel to nervously check them over.

The Hollow Knight did not follow suit, their attention remaining fixed in his direction. He thought he detected motion behind their mask, though when he stared into the darkness, that was precisely what he saw—more darkness. Dark in a way these caverns never were, with the remnants of kingslight still lingering. Dark as few things ever could be, dark as true blindness, or the inside of a grave.

Quirrel shook himself. His thoughts rarely trended so gloomy, though he recalled a similar effect when confronted with the unwavering gaze of his small friend. Odd, that two creatures with such vast outward differences would inspire such similar—and uncharacteristic—reactions.

Few had the chance to meet more than one vessel. Did that make him lucky? Unlucky? He certainly would not wish to give up any of his other encounters; they were rare, fleeting things, all the more precious for their infrequency, and no less meaningful for all that the only words spoken had been his. The weight of the little vessel’s presence made them an exceptional listener, and the tilt of their head as they stared up at him with those fathomless eyes, waiting for him to continue, made him wander farther afield in the conversation than was normal, even for him. To meet someone who seemed to drink in his every word, to soak up every moment in his company, was water in the desert, a gift in a kingdom otherwise defined by its emptiness.

Hornet was speaking softly, her hand resting on the bed just in front of the vessel’s mask, fingers stretched out and open, as if waiting for her sibling to place something in them. The Hollow Knight did not seem to be listening, all their focus narrowed to Quirrel, and after a moment she exhaled and sat back, though she left her hand where it was.

Quirrel opened his mouth, remembered Hornet’s prohibition on questions, and shut it again. Still, when the silence stretched on with no indication that she intended to break it, he cleared his throat.

She jumped a little, more of a twitch than anything, and her sibling’s breath caught, a soft whine that he had not fully noticed falling silent and then resuming. Now that he was listening, he could hear them breathing, though only by the horrible wet catch in their lungs, a sound he had only ever heard described as a death rattle.

Perhaps he was only digging the hole deeper, but he had her attention now, at the cost of startling her, and he was loath to waste it. “If… if there’s any way I can help…”

Hornet sat motionless, staring at the floor. With every moment that passed, Quirrel was surer that he should not have spoken. She looked as though she was holding something in, clinging to composure by her clawtips.

How long had she been here, caring for her sibling alone? He had thought she looked exhausted at the lakeshore, but if possible, she looked even worse now, her shoulders curling forward and masktip dropping until it nearly reached her chest. He knew she had heard him; her fangs parted as if to answer, but she said nothing.

“There is a kettle by the fireplace,” she mumbled after a long pause, sounding as if the words had been dragged out of her. “And clean water and shellwood in the kitchen.” She turned to look at him. “These wounds need washing, though I will not be able to finish the job tonight. While I am doing that, I will tell you what I can.”

Grateful as he was, silence still felt like the safest bet. He nodded to Hornet, then stood without a word and picked up the kettle, feeling the Hollow Knight’s eyes follow him all the way to the door.

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[tisiphonewolfe]

Made With Crown And Claw: WIP Intro

Original fiction - The Tectomany Saga Book One

Pitch: A Princess ends up locked in a tower, but the dragon is a girl she used to fancy.

Genre: High Fantasy

Word Count: 130k

Staus: Fourth draft complete

Releine Sholt is a soldier who can't find a purpose for her life beyond putting it on the line. She is hand-picked to be the new guard captain for the capricious Princess Almyra Tectus, with one key stipulation - she must never speak to her, on threat of dire punishment.

The Tectus family was blessed by the goddess Ialme with divine magic that can alter the forms of creatures and objects - something Almyra consistently fails at. Her father is determined to find his daughter a worthy spouse to continue that lineage.

Releine and Almyra find themselves embroiled in the scemes of goddesses, immortal witches, assassins, and treacherous nobles while dealing with their burgeoning attraction to one another.

Features:

🐲 DRAGONS!

🐲 Sapphic romance and non-cis characters

🐲 There was only one bed: Hard Mode

🐲 A heist

🐲 World-bending divine magic

🐲 The trans elf anti-pope

🐲 Intrigue, schemes, and mysteries

Content Warnings (CW): Body horror, gore, lifechanging injury, violence.

Character Intros

Releine || Almyra || Jessa || Tenacity || More to come . . .

Setting

The Tectomancy Saga takes place in a bowl-shaped world, with nothing below the rim but swirling mists, and a vast, deep forest spanning the middle.

Hundreds of years ago, the peoples of the world were each blessed by their goddess (or witch, or genius as some like to argue) with a divine magic that has shaped their culture. Now the world is decaying, and a struggle for control over the magics has begun.

Taglist (DM to be added or removed): @indy-gray @sam-glade

First chapter below the cut

For centuries, scientists and philosophers in the Academic Ring of Leirsham vastly agreed that the world was round. The bright lights that decorate our skies at night must be the glimmering lights of far-off cities - the sun lazily circles the interior of this sphere, loyally followed by its lunar companion.

This was the accepted notion until one brave explorer found the edge of the world; high in the mountains to the east, beyond dead and decaying lands into which humans rarely dared to venture, she saw the truth - the world is a vast bowl.

Blue mists boiled and churned far below, creeping around the sheer cliff edge as the brave explorer dangled her legs off the edge, frozen in wonder and fear, sure that any moment she’d tumble down into their greedy embrace and be forever forgotten, left to the mysteries below.

Not far from where the explorer had sat, nestled away in the mountains, a stream bubbles up from under the ground. It bumbles its way through the valleys where snow Alfar purportedly made their home, and through the rocky tundra that hosted sturdy mountain Droichs. From there, it rages and rumbles through the plains - a fork of it taking a detour to trundle through deep forests in the middle of the bowl, past the territory of the elusive forest Alfar and into the dense, tangled, and gloomy places where Beastfolk roam. The first branch becomes the River Ilt; it thunders once more, through hills and farmland, before depositing itself into Lake Simul, where humans chose to build their capital city.

Across the bridge, to the hill-island in the centre of the lake. Up the cliff, through the great stone rings of the city; the guard outposts; the residential district; the merchants’ and artificers’ marketplace; the Guilds’ and the Academic Rings; the military barracks; the homes of the rich and the noble; and lastly, the palace.

In one courtyard, in a corner of the palace walls, in a line of steely soldiers and mercenaries, Releine Sholt was staring at a slightly smug statue and trying very hard not to move.

❖

The previous night, she had slammed her fists into the commander’s desk and growled; “This is a ridiculous idea, Sir. I didn’t join up to hold umbrellas and open doors for the King’s brat.”

Hidrim Grant had levelled a tired gaze over his reading spectacles and put his quill back in the ink-pot with his meaty, scarred hand. “Careful, Sholt. You’re talking about the Princess of our realm, heir apparent. And all that. Shouldn’t talk about her disrespectfully, I suppose. Besides, she’s older than you.”

“No, sir”, Releine had complained through clenched teeth. “But everyone knows she’s a brat.”

“Hmm. Well, don’t look at it like that. This is an honour, soldier - most people would kill for this opportunity.” Grant had blown the ink dry on the hastily-scribbled missive in front of him and dropped it into a grimy ‘out’ tray. “It’s easy work for an officer’s pay.”

Releine had clenched her fists as her mouth flapped open and closed a couple of times. “Officer’s pay . . . ?”

“Yup.”

“You’re taking pity on me.”

Grant had rubbed the wrinkles of exhaustion from his brow. “I won’t lie. I know your family situation, yeah. That’s not all there is to it though.” He had gotten up and moved closer to her, perching on the edge of his desk companionably. “You are the best this company has. You’ve excelled in your training, you’re a smart lass, you’ve seen combat - well, some combat. Enough. Most importantly though, you exercise discretion and you know how to keep your mouth shut.”

Releine had said nothing. Grant had studied her expression - cold, deep eyes peered out over an arched nose. A scar graced her freckled cheeks from the corner of an eye down to her heavy jawline. Her thin lips were pursed, and her forehead creased between her dark eyebrows. Grant had known the kid since she was knee-height and knew that this look meant: “I’m trying to appear defiant in a poor attempt to hide the fact that I’m considering it.” In many ways, she hadn’t changed much.

“Look,” Grant had pressed, “It’s only a selection anyway. There will be at least a dozen other soldiers there from the other companies. Probably some from the mercenary guild too. It’s not like you’re signing on the dotted line just by going to the thing.”

The forehead-creases had deepened.

“It’s worth a shot, no? Just see how it is.”

Muscled arms had folded over her chest.

“Don’t make me order you.”

Grant had breathed an internal sigh of relief as the girl’s tall, awkward frame collapsed backwards onto a creaking wooden chair. Maybe this would work out after all. “Fine”, she had sighed with resignation, “I’ll do it.” Hastily she had added “Sir”, after a moment’s pause.

Lamplight had flickered over the pocked oak panels of Grant’s office. “Good. Well. That’s settled then. So let’s go over the rules.” Releine had raised an eyebrow as Grant continued. “The King is very particular about the conduct of the Royal Guards, so listen closely . . . ”

❖

With the commander’s advice circling in her head, Releine had arrived at the palace this crisp late-spring morning. Vouched for by commanders and guild leaders, the soldiers were ushered through the lush grounds by hushed staff, leaves crunching under heavy leather boots and clanking sabatons.

Releine craned her neck at the palace; this was the first time she’d seen it up close. It rose from the crest of the hill like a great patch of mushrooms, seeming not built, but grown. A statue in front of her was similarly hewn out of the ground, not atop the flagstones, or embedded in them, but part of them. The stonework betrayed not the impact of a chisel, but the touch of a fingertip. New styles of magnificence had been added over the centuries according to the occupants’ tastes, creating a grandiose hodge-podge of clashing columns, balconies, arches, and windows, all fighting to dictate the overall style - which ultimately was that this was the residence of a group of people with far too much time and money on their hands. Releine enjoyed thinking that all that investment hadn’t stopped the place from being ugly.

A tense silence had fallen over the lines of soldiers - she assumed that they had all had similar lectures from their superiors to what Commander Grant had given her last night. With this knowledge, there wasn’t even an uneasy shuffling. Nobody muttered. Nobody twitched. Barely anybody even dared to chance a breath.

The rule of utmost import that Releine held steady in her head right now was this: “Do not speak in the presence of the Princess, not even if you’re spoken to. Don’t react to her in any way other than to follow her commands. For all other purposes, you are a plank of wood. You got that, Sholt? She’s going to try it on with you, you know. She wants that reaction. Don’t give it to her. You don’t want to end up like the last one.”

Grant had not specified what had happened to the last one.

Whatever the reason for this arcane rule, it would apply to Releine throughout her service here, should she be lucky enough to receive job of personal guard to Her Highness Princess Almyra Tectus, heir to the throne, darling of the city, beloved of the people, and spoiled royal extraordinaire. It made sense to Releine, quite suddenly, why she was only ever seen waving from a distance, stood behind her daddy on some balcony, or trapped behind a carriage door; for whatever reason, the King would not allow his daughter to be sullied by hearing common voices. The money, she thought, had bloody better be worth it.

Almyra Tectus flounced into the courtyard on the stately heels of her father, His Majesty King Ifys Tectus, the thirty-second king of Humankind. Releine barely acknowledged King Ifys Tectus and his many titles being smoothly announced by an unassuming herald. Her response to the man himself was purely automatic - ankles together, back straight, salute held at a perfect angle, entirely at attention - the muscular mercenary-looking woman next to her didn’t do quite so well, taking a moment to react and awkwardly toss a salute into the air. Releine’s eyes flickered briefly over the King - to be fair, he didn’t seem like the kind of man who intended to hold anyone’s attention for long. For all purposes, he looked more like a guild money-keeper than royalty. He wore a stuffy grey suit, a shirt with ruffled sleeves, and a blue cravat - for that splash of colour to show he could be fun, she supposed. His thick ceremonial cloak was draped messily over his shoulders and very much looked like it didn’t want to be there either, but we have to make this work, Your Majesty. No crown was atop his graying hair - an understated silver circlet hid above his furrowed brow. An awkward half-smile peeked through his goatee as he scanned the courtyard of people before him. If he’d offered them a cheeky wink, Releine wouldn’t have been surprised.

But Releine’s fleeting glance at the King was eclipsed by her. Almyra Tectus was a woman of about her age, though the way she skipped through the courtyard was reminiscent of a child at play. She had a wave of ginger hair and bright, round green eyes that sparkled below a jewelled tiara and above full pink cheeks. A purple shawl was tied in a pretty bow over the puffiest, most ruffly periwinkle dress she had ever seen, with the hint of some very impractical shoes going on somewhere in the explosion of petticoats below. And she was short - Releine decided that whoever had sculpted, painted, or otherwise portrayed her royal visage had been carefully instructed to add a few inches to her height and just that bit more classical goddess-archetypal beauty, thank you. Her scan of the courtyard differed from her father’s - she blew hair out of her face and fiddled with her necklace as her eyes flickered from person to person. Her father’s half-smile said “absent-minded”. Almyra’s said “This is the most interesting thing that has happened to me all week and I’m ready to get into some mischief.” Releine stared at her, probably for far too long, as those green eyes flicked over to her. Snapping back to reality, she quickly turned her gaze directly ahead and pretended she had always been looking at absolutely nothing, not even the stones in the wall ahead of her, a technique known and practised by most soldiers for exactly such ceremonial occasions as these. Hopefully, she thought, it hadn’t been too late. This occasion was already stressful enough without any mischief. The King cleared his throat generously and spoke in a plummy voice. “Ahem. Hem. Good of you all to be here on such short notice, my compliments to your commanding officers. Unfortunately, my daughter’s previous personal guard was quite suddenly lost - a fine young warrior such as yourselves - and the position is quite essential to fill. We shan’t take too much of your time.” He turned to his daughter. “Any one you like, Myra, my dear.”

The Princess began to pace between the rows, hands clasped behind her back, a carefully-chosen mock scowl with one raised eyebrow on her face. The heavy silence was broken only by the sound of the King fumbling through his robes for a rolled cigarette and the hiss of a match being struck. The hair on the back of Releine’s neck prickled as Almyra passed behind her, the clack of her heels stopping briefly as she said to the men behind her, “Hmm. No, not you. Or you. You . . . Maybe. Oh, this one won’t do at all.”

Almyra made her way back to Releine’s row and she mentally recoiled, expecting any second to hear the Princess arbitrarily dismiss her too. It wasn’t that she even particularly wanted this job. Her plan had always been to support her mother and younger siblings either through her military wage, or from the payout that her death in service would afford them. Grant had been right that her family situation was dire and that the higher pay afforded to the relatively peaceful life of a royal guard would be an enormous boon to them. It just didn’t feel particularly right to Releine - she felt that she belonged on the battlefield, where her life would at least be of use to someone. Still, to her frustration, she wasn’t quite ready to feel the sting of rejection from her royal highness. Fortunately, the Princess passed right on by and stopped at the mercenary to her left who had struggled with her salute earlier.

Staring up at the statuesque woman with her hands on her hips and feet set apart, Almyra cocked her head, inspecting her face-paint, the polished battle-nicked spear, and the somewhat battered leather armour. A beat of time went by, before the Princess smartly rose a foot and brought her heel down on a sandal-clad foot, hard. The mercenary yelped what was quite clearly the first vowel of a curse, before stemming it down to a pained growl. She flashed a thunderous glance of rage down at the Princess with gritted teeth. Almyra herself was squealing with laughter, which terminated in a short snort. Wiping a tear from her eye, and still speaking through giggles, she said to the mercenary, “Oh no, I’m afraid that’s too much. Papa wouldn’t approve of that.” The King’s cigarette shifted from one side of his mouth to the other as he shook his head gently. Releine wished that she’d told Grant more firmly that she didn’t want to be here.

The merc’s shoulders sagged. Almyra continued down the rows for her second lap, this time occasionally stopping in front of someone and pulling some similar prank. The Princess had no concept of personal space and absolutely no boundaries. Releine could feel the mood of her fellow soldiers sour as the Princess was displeased with either the overreaction, or lack of reaction from each one. Faces were pulled, cheeks were pinched, armour plates were unclasped. One waifish young man from another company was beckoned to put his ear down towards her. Whatever she whispered had the boy gasping for air between stitches of laughter. The King rolled his eyes.

It was on the Princess’s fourth lap of eliminations that she finally stopped in front of Releine. Almyra reached a finger up, under her chin. “Well, look at you.” Almyra murmured softly, guiding her face to turn this way and that. “Where did such a handsome face get a scar like that?” Soft fingers traced down the reddish-white line that ran from the corner of her eye to her jaw. Releine maintained her nervous silence, though her heart jumped into her throat. Her eyes turned down towards the other girl’s and she reluctantly realised that she badly wanted the Princess to pick her.

In front of her, Almyra’s attitude, playful and somewhat mean, had melted away. She had asked with genuine curiosity; the warmth of Almyra’s hand on her cheek, a glint behind her eyes, the way her lips had pursed out of their menacing little grin - Releine understood what she’d been trying to achieve. Nobody beyond her father and select individuals had ever spoken to her, and nobody ever could without feeling the force of the King’s wrath. She pictured the King’s steely eyes and shaking head as Almyra had sparked too much of a reaction out of each one. She needed to speak without speaking, let her know there was someone else in here who she could connect to. Seized by an urge to reach out to the girl, Releine waited. The moment seemed to last forever as Almyra’s hand left her cheek and the King took a long, lingering drag on his cigarette. As the Princess looked set to turn away, he slowly let a column of smoke spiral into the crisp morning air, and Releine rapidly blinked twice.

The flutter of her eyelashes turned the Princess’s head back towards her, eyebrows raised. She staggered back, off-balance on her heels, and set herself in front of Releine once again.

“Papa! I’ve chosen. I want this one.”

The King casually put out his cigarette and tossed the smouldering butt to the floor. He sauntered through the ranks towards his daughter, and put his hand upon her shoulder, looking Releine up and down. “Hmm. Decent enough choice. Good muscle on her. Name, soldier?” Releine’s mouth parted slightly before slamming closed again as she remembered the rule. Not even when spoken to. Not even by the King. The stark moment was followed by the King muttering, “Very good, very good. Well done.” He turned to his daughter. “Alright. Would you like to do the honours, my darling?”

Almyra shook her head, her cheeks flushing even pinker with embarrassment. “Oh, no. I’m still not quite - no, not yet.”

“No matter.” The King reassured her “We’re working on it, aren’t we my girl? You’ll get there. Step forward, soldier.”

Releine stepped forward and witnessed Tectomancy for the first time - the divine, royal magic that could reshape the world, held secret by the royal family for a millennium.

The King’s hand drifted to her company insignia where it was pinned to the left strap of her leather breastplate. Taking it between his thumb and forefinger, he gently stroked the metal, tracing its engravings and shape. An ethereal blue-and-white glow spread across its surface, accompanied by a low melodic hum, like wind whistling through a tunnel. The metal began to bend and deform, folding over itself, churning, until it settled into a new shape. Fresh engravings scored themselves into the surface as she found herself wearing the badge of a captain of the royal guard.

The King straightened up. “Take the day. Go and see your family or friends, and bid farewell to your company. It may be a while before you next see them. Arrangements will be made for you - present the badge at the palace gates at seven sharp tomorrow morning. Until then, Captain.”

The King ambled back towards the courtyard’s exit. Almyra regarded Releine’s face one moment more before she too turned away and caught up to her father, the cheeky grin having returned to her face. Soldiers and mercenaries filed out, casting dark glances her way and grumbling to one another in low tones. As the final one wandered past, Releine’s frozen, flabbergasted form finally jolted into motion and she marched stiffly out of the courtyard and away from her new home.

[artsyriv]

TAZ NC Day 4- Bakery AU

Hello! For day four of @taznovembercelebration I got Bakery AU. BUT, most of my knowledge of bakeries comes from Kiki's Delivery Service! So what was supposed to be a very brief little ficlet turned into 2k word Angus' Delivery Service.... Enjoy!

"Now, are you sure about this?" Kravitz wrung his hands nervously, checking to make sure that Angus' bowtie was straight and his clothes without wrinkles. "We can always wait until next month."

"It's ok, Dad." Angus gave an award-winning smile, which made Kravitz' heart melt. "I'm ready. Plus I have Junior with me!" Angus' jellyfish companion floated over and stole the wizard hat from atop his head. "Hey!" Junior plopped the hat atop its cap and Angus smiled. "See, I can handle this."

"But you're such a young wizard, Angus." Kravitz smoothed down Angus' curls. "Are you really ready? Like, I trust you to make that decision for yourself, but-"

The train whistle blew and Angus picked up his luggage. "Bye Dad!" He rushed on to the train. "Come on, Junior!"

"All aboard!" The conductor called out, but Angus was already aboard by then. Kravitz smiled and shook his head. Angus was a tenacious boy, he would be ok out there on his own. He hoped, at least. 

Angus pulled down the train window and waved to his Dad. "I'll see you in a year!"

Kravitz sank back against a brick wall as he watched the train pull away. A year was a long time without his boy, but he trusted him to write, so he let out a deep breath, hoping that whatever adventures would find the boy would be kind. 

Angus was so excited, he couldn't stop alternating between looking out the window and reading his book. This was all so new and exciting to him. His hat, a glimmering blueish purple with gold constellations, went from being on his head to being down next to him to being on Junior's cap. 

Despite his excitement, after about an hour, he found himself slowly nodding off to the countryside passing by. Junior curled his tendrils around Angus' shoulder, as if a scarf, and the two rested for a while. 

Angus only woke to "Next stop, Raven's Roost." being blasted over the intercom. He stretched and gathered his things, including his hat, which earned him a few strange glances from the people around him. He noticed now that this was almost entirely a different crowd than the one he had seen when he had first boarded the train. How long had he been asleep?

He followed a few people off of the train once it stopped and he found himself overwhelmed by sights and smells immediately. 

The train station was at the base of a hill and the other people began the trek up so Angus followed, not wanting to seem that out of place, even though holding a floating jellyfish and wearing a large floppy wizard hat wasn't doing him any favors. 

When he reached the top though, he took a moment to take in the scene. Before him were rock pillars with suspension bridges between each one with a crystal blue lake far below. Angus leaned forward slightly to see some people swimming far below, but he stepped back almost immediately, the height giving him some vertigo. 

He walked across the first bridge and found himself in a busy commerce district. People were shouting and offering different goods, but Angus didn't have need for new clothes or fancy dishes. Some people stopped and stared at him so he offered an awkward wave and Junior copied the motion. For some reason this was even more disconcerting to people who stared even more. Angus' cheeks burned and he ducked into the first shop he could find that was a little bit out of the way. 

"Oh no!" A woman rushed past him. Angus noted that she smelled like fresh baked bread. Curious, Angus followed her to where she was standing by the entrance to the shop. "Of course this would happen at the busiest time of day."

"What's the problem, ma'am?" Angus asked after a moment. She turned to look at him and Angus could feel his confidence disappearing. He was just a little boy, wearing a wizard hat that was too big for him, and he was trying to be useful. 

She smiled gently. "There was a woman who just came through here, she has red hair and was wearing green coveralls. She bought a donut as well as some other things but accidentally left her donut here. Can you try and deliver it to her?"

Angus nodded. "Yes, ma'am!" He grabbed the donut and handed it to Junior. "Come on Junior!" With a wave of his wand, he took off faster than normal, running and dodging through the crowd. It took him a couple minutes but he eventually found the woman, who was looking through her bag with confusion. "Excuse me!"

She looked up and smiled as Angus delivered the donut. "Thank you so much! Please give this to Julia for me."

Angus took the note, nodded his thanks and ran back. 

Julia was waiting for him just inside the door. "Glad to see you made it! Oh, by the way, I'm Julia!"

"Angus." Angus stuck out his hand and Julia gave him a nice firm handshake. "Oh, the lady told me to give you this note!" He reached into his vest pocket and retrieved the note. 

"Thank you for helping me not forget my lunch! That delivery boy you hired really is something else." She read out loud. She looked up and beamed at the boy. "If you want a job that is, you are welcome to become the delivery boy for here."

Junior twirled and made some musical notes and Angus laughed. "I don't know where I'll stay yet, but I am inclined to take you up on the offer."

"Oh, we have a spare room out back. As long as you help out from time to time, you're welcome to it. I'm sure Maggie won't mind. Right, Mags?"

"What was that, Jules?" A big burly man with auburn hair came out from the back with two fresh trays of bread. He set them in the cases and then looked up. Angus gulped. This man had a long scar across his face, and he looked intimidating but he smiled gently. "Who's this?"

"This is Angus. I just said we had a room out back and offered him a job as a delivery boy."

"Hi Angus, I'm Magnus!" Magnus came out from around the counter, dusting off his hands on his apron. He took the boy's hand in both of his and shook it firmly. Angus could feel it throughout his whole body. "Welcome to our bakery. I like your hat!"

Angus smiled and ran his fingers over the constellation pattern on his wizard hat. "Thank you, sir."

He knew he was going to like it here. 

There was a wizard who worked next door, making potions and spells and transmuting things. Angus on his days off would just go and stare wide eyed as he worked. This wizard had an incredibly long braid that almost reached the floor and smaller braids with trinkets were woven into it. Angus had so many questions but he didn't have the nerve to go and ask. He worked hard each and every day, but was finding it harder to get out of bed and do things, much less do magic. Magnus had watched him with a furrowed brow and said something to Julia about "burnout", Julia had turned around and given him some time off. And then one day, Angus woke up and he couldn't find Junior. 

He had gone to every other shop in the Craftsman Corridor and could feel the tears of loss and fear forming in the corners of his eyes when he heard a lofty voice say, "Angus!"

Angus looked up and hastily wiped away his tears when he noticed the wizard was talking to him. "M-me?"

The wizard made a big show of looking around him, his hat jingling as he turned this way and that. "Yes, I'm talking to you. Do you see any other Anguses around? Come on inside." He swept his robe around and went back into his shop. 

Angus sniffled and followed the wizard inside. The inside beyond the counter was even more magical than he could have imagined. Lights hung from the sky that twinkled like stars, and potions and tomes lined every wall. And there in the back of the room was a giant Junior. 

Ok, so it wasn't Junior, but it was clearly the same species. Angus heard harmonizing and realized that Junior was floating right by the bigger jellyfish and the lights inside of both of their bells were rotating gently. 

"Cool, isn't it?" Angus jumped before realizing the wizard was standing beside him. "I'm Taako by the way, always nice to meet a fan!"

Angus nodded, going back to watching the two jellyfish. Taako laughed. 

"That's Fisher, he's a voidfish. Although I see that you are already familiar with voidfish." He gestured to Junior. "The question is how?" He looked down at the boy, casual, cool, no hint of malice. 

"My dad gave him to me as my familiar, sir!" Angus answered honestly. Taako's eyebrows rose to where they were hidden by his hat. 

"Your dad?" Taako started to pace slightly. "Didn't realize he had a kid."

"Wait, you know my dad?" Angus held up a hand. 

"Used to. Summer flings, ya know?" Taako waved dismissively. 

"MY DAD HAD A SUMMER FLING?" Angus squeaked out. 

"Let's not talk about this anymore." Taako climbed up the shelves and grabbed a book. "Here. Take this and your fish and go."

Angus looked at the title. "But sir, why give me a book on magic?"

"I'm going to teach you more magic, duhhhhhhhh." Taako pushed the brim of Angus' hat down around his eyes. 

"But sir, I can't do magic right now." Angus held the book to his chest. "I will try very hard, b-but my magic isn't working."

"It isn't, huh?" Taako looked at him carefully. "Oh I see it now." Angus' clothes were disheveled, his hair uncombed, his eyes tired. Taako softened slightly. "Maybe we should focus on something else first." He ran his fingers along the spines of books until reaching the perfect one. "How do you feel about detective novels?"

Angus found that he had quite the knack for figuring out mysteries, and began to solve them around the bakery. Who was stealing all the muffins? Magnus. Who ate a spoonful of frosting by itself? Magnus. Ok, so it was mostly Magnus who was the culprit, but it was fun. 

The biggest mystery came around his six months of living in Ravens Roost. Magnus and Julia were whispering to each other constantly and sometimes Taako would join them, but they stopped as soon as Angus walked in. It was frustrating, and there seemed to be more envelopes arriving at the bakery than normal, but Julia insisted on taking care of the mail now for some reason. Angus' brow remained furrowed and he came no closer to solving the mystery even though he gave it all his effort. 

"Knock knock." A deep, kind voice said at the door to his room. 

"Five more minutes, dad." Angus rolled over and then his eyes opened wide. "Dad?"

Kravitz stood in the doorway and opened his arms for a hug. Angus nearly barreled him over with his enthusiasm. "Hello, Angus. I missed you dearly."

"You talk like an old person." But Angus' face was buried in Kravitz's shirt, soaking the material. Kravitz laughed. 

"Taking more than magic lessons from Taako, I see." Kravitz looked down the steps where Taako was giving him a thumbs up. 

"Taako's really cool, Dad. Did I tell you about the time that we-" Angus babbled on and on, oblivious to the silent looks and flirting happening over his head between the two adults present. 

"Breakfast is ready! Come on you hooligans!" Julia called into the courtyard. Taako offered his hand to Kravitz to help him up from his kneeling position. This time even Angus noticed how the touch lingered between the two, and he smiled. Yeah, life in Raven's Roost was pretty awesome.

[lunarifie]

The Hollow - SuperHero School AU Power Discovery Backstories

SuperHero school au explanation post

Reeve:

- Reeve’s parents died when he was 3 on a Super-Hero mission.

- Once his grandmother took him in, she tried everything to get Reeve to discover his powers. She did this in grief, hoping that Reeve would have his parents powers and the that she’d be able to hold on to a small part of them.

- Because of this, Reeve’s incredibly complicated power was discovered incredibly early.

- At first, Reeve felt pressure, believing he had to live up to all the tremendous stories his grandmother told him about his parents.

- Eventually, his grandmother reassured him that he didn’t have to live up to those expectations. Reeve gladly decided not to care, growing into his own person outside of his powers.

Mira:

- Mira was adopted when she was 5. When her fathers discovered she had powers, It was assumed by them and by the school district that it was genetics.

- This was proven to be false when Mira decided to go back to a lake she’s had fuzzy memories of when she was a child.

- Mira discovers she was in fact slashed by an eerie unidentified creature, one that had somehow found its way out of the ocean and into the lake.

- For some reason, she cannot talk to this creature, but memories flood back and she remembers falling into that exact lake when she was 4, safely returning back to shore with only a small injury and two new powers.

Adam:

- Both of Adam’s parents were Normie’s, so it was a surprise when their son suddenly came home with the strength of a body builder and the agility of a gymnast.

- Turns out, the martial arts/self defense dojo they sent their son to (to stop the bullying) had an instructor who’d been impressed with Adam’s determination and drive.

- The old instructor was a retired Super-Hero. He no longer had a need for his power, a power that’d been passed down for generations. So, he decided to become a self-defense instructor in search of an inheritor.

- Adam was found worthy and was bestowed the power (unknowingly). Adam was given a note by the instructor, explaining everything, but when Adam went to confront him, the instructor was no longer at the dojo.

Vanessa:

- Vanessa’s parents divorced when she was 6. Her mother had floatation powers and her father was a Normie. Vanessa mostly lived with her mother, increasing the desire to have powers instead of being boring and normal like her father.

- One day, on vacation with her parents, she stood a bit too close to the ledge of a bridge. Vanessa bends down to tie her shoes, only to trip and fall off. Both of her parents are too busy arguing to notice her descent.

- That is until she flies. The crowd of tourists clap for her, bringing over her parents attention.

Skeet:

- As a kid, Skeet was a wanderer, constantly giving his single father heart attacks. One day, his father (a nurse) brings Skeet to the hospital to visit, and as always, Skeet wanders.

- Skeet stumbles upon an empty hospital room with a comatose patient. This super-powered patient has specific chemicals being pumped into them due to their super-power requirements.

- Skeet sees the plastic bag of chemicals dripping onto the floor, and being a curious 6 year old, dips his finger in the chemical puddle and licks it.

- His speed powers come in a year later with no explanation. Skeets father rushes him to the hospital and they explain that Skeet swallowed a substance that had a 90% chance of killing him. As shown, Skeet had luckily survived.

Kai:

- Both of Kai’s parents come from a long lineage of super-powered individuals that double in powers. Due to this, his parents have a sense of self-superiority.

- As time passes, Kai feels an immeasurable amount of pressure to have super-powers, especially when he showed no signs of them at the age of 6.

- His parents sent him to every doctor they knew. All they could say was that Kai was a late bloomer (since his parents left no room for discussion of their son possibly being a Normie).

- When he was 13 years old and still showed no sign of powers, his parents gave up on him and abandoned him in Davis’s care. They only visited every few months, enrolling him into The Hollow high-school for super-powered individuals, as a last ditch effort.

- Eventually, at the school, Kai’s powers are discovered. Yet they are still not up to his parents standards, since he only has one power, and its unknown how he received them.

[kramlabs]

https://maps.app.goo.gl/PwoGuBkmRUiddMQKA?g_st=ic

Floaters who wish to fish hard without a lengthy shuttle may launch at the Kendall Recreation Area ramp, located off U.S. 127 below the dam. The takeout is the old Kendall Ferry landing located at the end of Ray Mann Road, just off the road to the recreation area. This makes for a float of approximately 1.75 miles with a shuttle of just a few minutes.

This section includes the hatchery creek outflow, a good place to fish. Boyd’s Bar, a productive wading shoal for rainbow and brown trout, lies at the end of Ray Mann Road. The next take out is a little over 4.5 miles downstream from Wolf Creek Dam at Helm’s Landing Boat Ramp, located off KY 379 via KY 55 and U.S. 127. Excellent rainbow trout fishing runs all through this stretch of the Cumberland River. Toward the end of this float you will see two rock walls on each side of the river. Legend has it that people removed rocks and piled them near the riverbank to help steamboats power over a shoal in the river. Anglers should know this shoal is one of the most productive rainbow trout fishing spots on the Cumberland River. From Helm’s Landing, it is a 5.8-mile float to the next take-out at the Rockhouse Natural Bridge, located off KY 379. In this section, the river is a series of shoals and long pools. Anglers working the rocky edge of the flowing shoals and pools score on a mixture of rainbow and brown trout. Near the end of this section, floaters will see the river take a hard left turn at a high bluff. This is the Rockhouse Hole. The Kentucky Department of Fish and Wildlife Resources recently purchased the island on the downstream left, just above the Rockhouse Hole. This island shoal is Long Bar, although some refer to the area as Snow Island. It is one of the better wading shoals on this section of the Cumberland River. Anglers may beach their boats on the island to fish this area.

The Rockhouse Natural Bridge take-out requires you to carry your boat through the arch and up a steep incline to the parking area. This take-out is not recommended for anglers in johnboats.

The Rockhouse also serves as the put-in for the next section of river. Although the float from the Rockhouse to the next take-out at Winfrey’s Ferry is 5.5 miles on the water, the shuttle is just 1.5 miles. This is because the road connects the neck of a large bend in the river. A single paddler could drop off a boat in the Rockhouse parking area, drive down KY 379 to Winfrey’s Ferry, then walk back, leaving the vehicle parked at the end of the float. Rainbow Run, one of the best fishing shoals on the river, is just downstream from the Rockhouse. A long gravel bar on your right denotes Rainbow Run. The entire length of this shoal is worth many casts. Class I rapids downstream of this area provide lively paddling. A little further along on this float is Winfrey’s Rocks at downstream left. These rocks served as signposts for boat pilots back during the steamboat era.

The rocks, located halfway through the float, mark a deep hole that holds bruiser brown trout. Striped bass also show up regularly from this section downstream. The rest of the float is a long, deep hole until Winfrey’s Ferry. Look for a cable that goes across the Cumberland River. This cable indicates the take-out downstream to the right.

The Cumberland River rises quickly when electrical generation begins from the dam. Powerful current created by more than one generator in operation makes the river unsuitable for paddlers. Log on to the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers Nashville District Web site at www.lrn.usace.army.mil/ and search for Lake Cumberland generator schedule. The daily fishing report contains the 24-hour generation schedule for Wolf Creek Dam. Boaters may also call (606) 678-8697 for current information.

[theswiftiearchive]

Folklore - The Lakes - Bonus Track

Song Analysis

The final track on Taylor's deluxe edition of her album "folklore," the lakes (stylistically placed in lowercase) is a whimsical yet deeply touching song, with ties to three specific pieces of Taylor's life, each one different from the other. But what made the song such a unique masterpiece?

The Lakes serves as both an incredible love letter to Taylor’s now ex-boyfriend, Joe Alwyn, but is also tethered to her visit to the Lake District of Cockermouth, Cumberland, and her own yearning to escape the eye of the paparazzi on occasion.

Many of Taylor's songs have come with a uniquely personal message to her previous lover, spanning from the synth-pop scene of Reputation, potentially and allegedly ending through her newest era of Midnights. The relationship itself was one of privacy, with Taylor highlighting this in many of her songs through lyrical genius.

Although many fans believe that Taylor was looking for her own way to be bejeweled, she herself was in agreement, without discussion, that the relationship aught to be kept on the low, away from the "hunters with cellphones" she sings about.

Taylor's now ever-present role in the media we consume today is given even more depth due in part with the crowds of paparazzi that have recently swarmed her in recent times, one such time included Jack Antonoff's wedding this past August. Swarms of people with their phones locked upon the building would crowd the streets, with police intervention being used to keep crowds away from the doors.

On a lighter note, tied to Taylor's yearning to escape the public eye now and again, the story of William Wordsworth was made present during this song, which is heavily hand-in-hand with Taylor's trip to Cockermouth, Cumberland, located in northwestern England.

Wordsworth was an English poet of the 1770's, a founder of English Romanticism, with an important intellect. He was a poet concerned with the connection between people and nature, and wrote about this connection through simile and prose.

Bringing the focus back to Taylor, and the lakes brings forth passages including the poet and the area he inhabited during his lifetime.

"Take me to the lakes, where all the poets went to die"

"Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry"

"I've come too far to watch some namedropping sleaze Tell me what are my words worth"

This song alone solidified Taylor's dream of leaving her life behind to live in a cottage, away from the public eye and average society.

Originally, the song was going to be a much larger scale orchestral number, however, Taylor asked Jack Antonoff to scale the song down, with the co-writer co-producer admitting he had gotten lost among the string arrangements.

The lakes, with its incredible storytelling and deep lyrics, weaves together a tale from Taylor's experiences in a format reminiscent of a fairytale, providing listeners first-hand to Taylor's storytelling abilities, bridging the albums of evermore and folklore together in some ways.

Image Credit: Taylor Swift

I do not own the image presented, used with fair use in mind.