#organic valley cheese

[luckystorein22]

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[comicdiaries]

I had a blast on this trip!

[ozzgin]

Yandere!Shapeshifter x Reader

Featuring a clueless Reader and the grotesque "dog" she found in a cursed forest, yet this time they're joined by a strange man. Where did he come from, and why does the dog run away whenever he comes by? Content: female reader, dark comedy, monster romance, mildly NSFW [Part 1] | [More Monsters]

You couldn't help but stare a little at the stranger who so persistently knocked on your door. His eyes had a peculiar color - one similar to the little dog who followed you home from your hiking trip. You bit your tongue from saying such nonsense, worrying it might be taken as an insult. He extended his long, bony fingers and lowered a wallet in your open palms. "You must've dropped this somewhere", he remarked with feigned worry. "I used the address on your ID card."

Whatever initial suspicion weighed on your shoulders had instantly dispersed into thin air. You thanked the man profusely, and invited him in for a drink. "Careful with my dog, he's-" you begun warning, but the quadruped creature was nowhere to be seen. Mysterious. You led the benevolent soul into your living room with a smile.

One thing led to another, and the polite meetings for coffee turned into steamy nights in the retreat of your bedroom. Around the same time you stopped having your bizarre wet dreams involving some deformed monstrosity ramming into you. Perhaps a loving partner was all you needed. To your great shock - and delight - the stranger never abandoned you the morning after, unlike all the previous flirts. This is the one, you told yourself. For once, you had company. You had consistency.

Unfortunately, your friends don't agree with you. Your dreamy retellings are met with grimaces and horrified shivers. "He has such an unique appearance", you'll argue. "It's uncanny valley", your friends will counter, embracing themselves in a fearful, shielding manner. They claim he must be yet another curse brought by the damned devil of a hound you keep as a pet.

Every discussion regarding your beloved will turn into a back and forth. "The voice is inhuman. A broken record, as if he's copying the rest of us, with jarring interruptions and words randomly patched together!" You wave your hand in dismissal. "He's just a little shy", you say with a faint blush. You've always had a soft spot for introverts. "He's insane! Last time someone complimented your outfit, he begun chanting at the dinner table!" You puff out a chuckle. "He must be religious, or something", you defend him ardently. No one dares to mention the flickering lights, or the fact that the targeted friend never left the confines of their room after that encounter.

You will admit one thing: your dog seems to avoid this man like the plague. You've never seen the two of them together in a room. Could your friends be right? They do say dogs can sniff out bad people. You shake your head. It can't be. You get out of bed, rub your eyes, and check the time: 2am. The space next to you is empty, sheets ruffled aside. Out of curiosity, you head outside the room and follow the faint light in the kitchen. The stranger stands before the fridge, face smudged red and fingers stained and glossy. He's holding what seems to be a half-chewed heart, probably taken out of the raw organs bag you keep for your dog. "Heh. I see you like late snacking, too", you joke, dragging out a chair. "Pass me the cheese, will ya? But...maybe wash your hands first."

This isn't right. Sure, he's fucking you better than anyone else ever did, and you find his mysterious aura endearing. Yet you can't help the guilt eating at your innards, knowing that your dog cannot coexist with this man. Something has to be done, so you call out your partner and pat the sofa you're sitting on. "We must talk", you tell him. "What might be troubling you", he inquires quietly, frozen in the doorframe. "I'm afraid my pet comes before anything else", you confess. "And he seems to be scared of you...I'm not sure our current situation is sustainable." Ah. That's what it was. The man lets out a whistled laugh, as if remembering something.

His bones begin to break in wet, fluid succession, as coarse fur takes over his skin. He lowers himself to his fours, snout wide open in a sharp, toothy grin. "You mean this dog, yes?"

[vasyandii]

Hello! I just wanted to say that I absolutely adore your IHNMAIMS oc. I'm a OC x canon enthusiast and seeing a character so well written and adapted to the story as Vernon is makes me so excited!! Plus your art is literally amazing. I've been curious since you mentioned how Vernon cuts potions of her meal to give them to AM and how the food improved since AM got his body, what food/meals do Vernon and AM like/dislike/have as favourite? -for AM, at least from what he has tasted- Whether if it's because of the taste, flavour, etc.

Howdy Anon! Thank you so much for the kind words, I've been giddy since I got it a few days ago! I'm glad my OC x Canon content gets your stamp of Approval >:D!! 💞💞

VernonAM 🏺🖥️ Food Preferences

I think Vernon is careful in choosing the food she shares with AM because he will eat literally ANYTHING. She would try to eat things to torture herself with, extremely spicy foods, live insects, raw organs, etc. but then remember that she has to "Feed AM". So she opts out for something normal so his taste buds don't get fucked.

Or as normal as it can get, the food kind of has the uncanny valley effect as well. It looks normal and tastes normal, but she feels there's something a bit off about it (kind of like airplane food). So she often leaves criticism to the Chef™ (AM) or asks to cook instead.

Vernon isn't particularly picky when it comes to food, she'll eat it and clean her plate. She likes her food balanced, vegetables/meat with sauce and all that. If it tastes good, she'll eat it, y'know?

AM is more... difficult. Sure, he'll eat anything, but if it tastes really bad, it'll traumatize him and he'll refuse to eat it for a while.

His food has to not be touching, if it's mixed in all together beforehand he'll eat it. If there's sauce it shouldn't be close enough to where it can contaminate the food AM's eating because he WILL taste it, no matter how small the amount is. His utensils need to be a specific size, and the food HAS to be hot/warm. He needs to be able to see or know every ingredient in it.

It's observed that AM likes fried foods/anything crunchy because of how consistent they are in taste, texture, and flavour. So what ends up happening is Vernon will just include those foods into her meal, just to not eat it and have it on a little plate for him.

Vernon asks him why he can't just make food for himself, his response is "I don't need to eat, I eat when when you eat."

But honestly it's a pretty dumb question now that she's looking back on it. AM has all the knowledge in the world about food, everything ever made, everything he's never tasted. So he's basically asking Her, indirectly, "I don't know where to start or what's good. But you do. I trust you. Feed me."

Now here's some of the meals They've had together (+ AM's comments):

Chicken soup ("Too wet", just ate the broth)

Caesar Salad ("Damp, Crunchy water")

Vanilla ice cream (experienced a brain freeze for the first time, thought his body was malfunctioning)

Spaghetti Bolognese ("No I will not be mixing it, you mix it for me")

Western beef stew (He picked out the potatoes and only ate those. Thought the meat was irritating to eat.)

Baby carrots. ("You know they bleach these, right?")

Asparagus (he likes them. Needs to be warm)

Broccoli (same thing)

Cheese Pizza (Ate it, ate too much. Tummy hurted.)

Tempura (Ate too much, tummy hurted)

Fish and chips (Ate too much, tummy hurted)

Coffee, black (spat it out)

Macaroni and cheese (Ate too much, tummy hurted)

Grilled chicken hearts skewers (He liked it, but kept poking the roof of his mouth with the skewer.)

Half a Hamburger (picked out the vegetables because he didn't like them, still tasted it and gave the rest to Vernon)

Half a cheeseburger (ate it with no fuss.)

Aaand that'll be all for now :) if you made it this far, thank you for reading! If you need any clarifications, feel free to tell me!

[stardewvalleybut-i-draw]

I make mini-comics and art of Stardew Valley characters!

(animations and writings too if I'm up to it)

I post art on Monday and Friday and Wednesday is for everything else!

All my art will be tagged with -> #SDVBID art

QNA stuff and Answer archive!

inbox answers are tagged with #ask if you want to look through that!

Templates I use

Below is my Comics, Art, Doodles, and everything else organized and labeled with specific character appearances, enjoy!

Vulnerability- Alex, Me???

A little jealous- Rasmodious, Farmer

Gossip- Caroline, Abigail, Pierre, Rasmodius, Farmer

"Experimental noise" they said.- Sam, Abigail, Sebastian, Farmer, Jodi, Vincent, Leo, Linus

Bots- My chicken

Golden Scythe!- Farmer

Hair cuts!- Marnie, Shane, Emily

You weren't supposed to do that- Elliott

Two types of winter players: Farmers

Double trouble bubble brew!- (part 3) Penny, Alex, Abigail, Farmers, Harvey, Maru, Sam

Trouble continues to brew!- (part 2) Harvey, Maru, Abigail, Alex

Trubble in the Spirits Eve Maze- (part 1) Abigail, Alex

A different point of view- Leah

A head cannon of mine...- Farmer

Stalker vibes- (2 panell) Farmer, Sebastian, Robin

Happy 1-year anniversary/birth to me!🎉

Salad and Steaks- Farmer, Alex

Lewis in gold

Let me in! (animation)- Demetrius, Farmer

Marlon headcanon art

He would NEVER!... or would he?- Mr Qi

Harvey and his planes

Happy Valentine's Day!- Krobus

Not Invited- Pam, Willy, Marnie, Lewis, Robin, Gus

Haley's material girl arc

Here's a chicken animation I made- Chickens :)

High Score- Sam, Sebastian

Feast of the Winter Star- Jas, Farmers, Lewis, Abigail

Emily's old hairstyle

A pirates wife- Birdie

Alex

Say cheese!- Krobus

Scarecrows and Rarecrows- Farmers

Harvey- with bonus one pannel comic- BLOOD

Winter Jas

3rd time's the charm!- Farmers

Favoritism- Farmers

How the Farmers Heal- Harvey- BLOOD/CUTS

Controversial Alex opinions

Emily in a jester outfit!

Favorite and least favorite- Krobus, Bouncer guy

SHADOW WIZARD MONEY GANG- Mr Qi, Rasmodious, Grandpa

Who has the longer hair?- Elliott, Farmer

Sam with check it face meme

Family Dinner night- Sam, Farmer, Vincent, Jodi

Shane's canonical birthday

Sick farmers characterization

He's just standing there...MENACINGLY- Sebastian, Jas

The smallest :)- Harvey

8th anniversary of Stardew- Junimos

Haley x Femm Farmer

Farmer Grandpa phone doodle

Haley holding lesbian flag

Mask Farmer doodles

Abigail bonus doodles

Halloween Ref for comic- Penny, Harvey, Maru, Alex, Abigail, Sam

Mr. Qi ref

Rasmodius ref

Shane ref

Penny and Abigail ref

Maru, Leah, Farmers, Harvey, Elliott, Alex, Sam ref

Old base farmer ref (Fem)

Old base farmer ref (Mask)

[ghost-bison]

Introduction Post

Dear creature, abstract concept, wildebeest and whoever else stumbles upon this, hello!

My name is Eléonore and I will be your ghost for this evening (see what I did there)

If you are here, it must mean you are a Doctor Who enjoyer or maybe a lost little Teen Wolf/Vampire Diaries fan. If the latter's true, then sorry bug, I rarely ever post about those anymore, the hyperfixation is over :( But if you want some Doctor Who content then hi girl. welcome here I think

So here's a random info dump about me to either trigger your fight-or-flight response or become sisters:

I'm an artist. I mean that's what you call people who create stuff and I do that a lot: I write and I draw and I annoy the shit out of my neighbors by reorganizing my room in the middle of the night (for the sake of architecture)

I almost always take 20 years to answer texts

I haven't really slept since 2016

I'm kind of a dick

If you want to unleash the curse, then you may mention Doctor Who in my presence, or Catherine Tate/Christopher Eccleston/David Tennant

My top 3 Shakespeare plays are Winter's Tale, Much Ado About Nothing and Hamlet

I'm really enthusiastic about literary analysis, zombie apocalypse media, ghost stories, Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind and Beksiński. Like really enthusiastic

I had the biggest obsession with Derek Hale for 10 years to the point where it got embarrassing. Like if you talked shit about Derek I would bite, and after seeing the shitty-ass movie I didn't talk for 3 days

I'm terrified of the dark, that québecois show called Têtes à Claques TV and Gojo Satoru fans

I listen to everything, but my fave genres are probably country, celtic music and whatever you call that other genre that has geniuses like Michael Malarkey, Adrianne Lenker, Jenny Hval, Sharon Van Etten, Vashti Bunyan, Kyla La Grange, Kate Bush, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds etc... like idk what it's called, I just call it cottagegore personally

I also love B-52's, Portishead, Foo Fighters, Sheryl Crow and Minnie Riperton

Favourite foods and drinks are black tea with milk, well-seasoned tomatoes, bananas, goat cheese and honey pizza, and reese's

But I'm also a bit of a raccoon I'll eat anything. even that fake concrete you find in kids' construction kits cause it smells really nice

But please don't give me pears, pineapple or tofu I will spit it in your face

I have adhd, anger issues, dyscalculia and sometimes in the street I look at my feet and then my thumbs because if I don't then I'm afraid I'll teleport. They had me do an IQ test once and said I was below average in some fields. it made me laugh

I kept getting into trouble at school because of how spacey and unhinged I was (I wasn't a troublemaker or anything I just didn't know what was going on)

I'm part of the crowd that thinks humans are more interesting than other animals (sorry bugs I love cat videos as much as the next person but we're just such a fascinating species)

I wanna move to Scotland soon

I had a pet fish once. Philippe. He was nice

I'm bi but I've never had a straight crush on a guy before except Christopher Eccleston and Jean-Pierre Polnareff (from Jojo)

I wonder if one day I'll feel like an adult

My works as of now:

"I'll see you when I fall asleep" (Doctor Who - TenDonna)

[foundtherightwords]

The Firebird - Chapter 7

Pairing: Prince Paul (Catherine the Great) x OFC, Fairytale AU

Summary: When Paul, a spoiled young prince, spots a strange bird in the forest near his palace, he impulsively chases after it, hoping to both escape from and prove himself to his disapproving mother. Thus he is plunged into an exhilarating adventure across a magical realm populated by enchanted princesses, dangerous monsters, and powerful wizards, an adventure that may change him more than he can ever imagine.

Chapter warning: some injuries (no gore though)

Chapter word count: 4k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

Chapter 7 - Crossing the Mountains

They departed before dawn, while Simeon was still snoring on the stove. They left some tea, cheese, and a bottle of kvass for the old man by way of thanks. Then, putting the little stone hut behind them, with Zhara flying ahead and Paul following behind, riding one of the donkeys and leading the other by its reins, they scaled the slope that led into the heart of the mountains.

The road climbed steadily, becoming narrower and narrower the higher they went. By contrast, the trees and bushes were reduced to dwarfish versions of themselves until they disappeared altogether, and there was nothing around but bare rock walls, rising toward the sky on one side, blocking out the sun, and dropping down on the other, toward the ground strewn with more ragged rocks, far beneath. Up ahead, there were yet more rock walls, sheer, dark, forbidding. It was a lot colder as well—it may be summer down in the valley, but here, winter seemed to never have left, and snow still clung to the rock faces high above their heads.

Paul's entire body was on alert, his ears strained for the smallest sound, his eyes strained for any movement, but there was nothing save for the hiss of wind through the cliffs, the monotonous clip-clop of the donkeys' hoofs on the rock, and the flashes of red and gold from Zhara's wings, the only flashes of color in that cold gray world. How is one supposed to prepare for a threat when one doesn't know where it is coming from? He tried to remember what the tales of Nightingale said about how the mythical robber was defeated, but they were always so maddeningly vague. He could only hope that Nightingale would see that they had nothing of value and decide not to target them.

And so it went all day. They stayed the night at another shelter, though this one was all but abandoned, with no cozy stove or tea kettle, no furniture of any kind, only an empty stone hearth. At least the wood box next to it was full, though the wood had been there a while; it was damp and took a while to catch.

While he watched the flames struggling to take hold, Paul recalled something about the tales of Nightingale the Robber. "Are there any poppies around?" he asked Zhara.

"Poppies?" she repeated, lifting an eyebrow quizzically.

"It's what Ilya Muromets used to stopper his ears against Nightingale's whistle," Paul explained, only realizing how idiotic he sounded as he was saying it.

Zhara's lips twitched, but she didn't laugh. "Why poppies?" she asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"I don't know. It's never explained." He paused, then added, "It always bothered me as a child."

"No, there are no poppies to be had around here, I'm afraid," Zhara said. "And I don't think we can count on Ilya Muromets or Dobrynya Nikitich to rescue us either. My brother has captured Alyosha, so it's only a matter of time before he catches them as well. Besides," she added, sadness returning to her eyes, "haven't you learned that those tales don't always unfold the same way here?"

The next day was more of the same, only the cold was more biting. It was so cold that Paul's teeth started chattering despite his thick cloak, and Zhara had to return to her perch on his shoulder to give him some extra warmth. By mid-afternoon, however, a patch of blue sky showed overhead as the cliffs became a little lower and the peaks in the distance became closer. A dark smudge on the horizon suggested a forest in the valley below.

"We're nearly through!" Paul said, relieved. Zhara nodded at him and flew on ahead.

There was a sharp sound, like the screech of a bird of prey, only much more piercing. It went straight through Paul's ears and down his spine, making him shrink back in fear. The donkeys kicked and screamed, and Zhara's wings faltered.

As its echo died off amongst the cliff, a strange, dry, crackling noise immediately followed. Paul was looking around, trying to figure out where this new noise was coming from or what it meant, when a clump of snow hit him on the head.

Confused, he looked up.

To his horror, he saw an entire cliff of snow breaking off on their left, sliding down the mountainside, slowly at first but picking up speed as it went, headed straight for them.

"Watch out!" he yelled. Jumping off the donkey, he tried to pull both animals back, out of the path of the avalanche. The one behind bucked up and ran in a blind panic down the slope. Paul dove after it. The reins ripped out of his hands, burning his palms. The mass of snow was close, so close now. Zhara swooped down and headed the donkey off to stop it from plunging into the gorge below. Right before she could reach the animal, the snow hit. The last thing Paul saw was the red and gold of her wings, then the snow crashed over his head, and the whole world disappeared in a stinging, blinding, choking wave of white.

A moment later, or perhaps a lifetime later, Paul lifted himself out of the snow and shook the sharp crystal out of his wig. He discovered that, either by a stroke of luck or by managing to jump out of the way in time, he had escaped the worst of the destruction. One of the donkeys stood next to him, calm as ever, taking no heed of the snow covering its head. The other one stood a little further down the slope, buried up to its shoulders in snow, but looked otherwise unscathed.

Another screech rang through the ringing, buzzing hum in his ears. Paul looked around wildly, bracing himself for yet another avalanche. A shadow swept across the snow. A giant bird—no, not a bird, but a man—or was it a man? Paul couldn't quite tell. It would be most accurate to describe the figure as a half-man, half-bird creature, covered in feathers of the same mottled gray as the rocks around them. It had human arms, only these arms were also covered in feathers. A pair of wings extended from its back, and instead of human feet, razor-sharp talons extended from its legs.

As this creature plunged low, Paul glimpsed a craggy face, with cruel yellow eyes and a hooked nose. While Zhara retained her human eyes even as a bird, this creature's eyes were more bird than human. Paul cowered. The creature sailed over his head, and, before Paul could blink, closed its talon around the saddle of the other donkey, the one standing further away. With a powerful beat of its wings, the creature rose into the air, taking with it the donkey and all the supplies on its back, leaving behind only the echoes of the poor animal's frightful screams.

Paul clutched at the remaining donkey, too terrified to move. That must have been none other than Nightingale the Robber himself. Paul could only be thankful that he and the remaining donkey had been so well hidden by the snow that the robber hadn't seen them, or perhaps he wasn't interested in them.

It was a long time before his heartbeats slowed and he could breathe normally.

And then his heart dropped again.

He couldn't see Zhara anywhere.

He jumped up, all thoughts of Nightingale the Robber gone from his head. Where had she been before the avalanche struck? When had he last seen her? There had been a flash of gold...

He remembered now—she had been trying to stop the donkey from running away. He scrambled down the slope to where the lost donkey had stood, calling out for her. "Zhara!" Though the snow had been churned up like a sea of foam, he could still make out the four hollows of the donkey's legs. Getting to his knees, he started digging into the snow around the area. The cold stung his palms where they were scratched by the reins, but he barely even noticed. "Zhara!" he called again, his heart hammering in his chest while he kept digging and digging, not caring that Nightingale may come back. There was no sign of her. His hands found rock underneath, and he turned and dug in a wider circle. Still nothing. Could she have been swept all the way into the gorge? Could she have been thrown against a rock and gotten injured? Could Nightingale the Robber have taken her somehow? Each possibility was more terrible than the last, and they all squeezed Paul's heart in a cold grip.

But there was nothing else to do, so he just kept digging in the snow until his fingers were too numb and he was too tired to stir another muscle. The sun was going down, shedding a pale pinkish light over the snow. Paul leaned against a boulder and tried to breathe some life back into his frozen hands, missing Zhara's comforting warmth on his shoulder. The last rays of the sun died away. At that very moment, he saw a faint gleam beneath the snow, like the sun seen through the clouds, a mere few feet away from where he sat, and when it disappeared, there was a shape under the snow—the shape of a girl.

Paul bounded across the snow and rushed to her side. Plunging his still-frozen hands into the snow, he touched skin, cold and stiff as marble. His heart shot to his throat. He scraped the snow away until he unearthed Zhara's prone form, her skin nearly as white as the snow around her. He brushed the hair out of her face with a shaking hand and saw that her eyes were closed and her lips were blue.

"No, no, no..." he mumbled, stripping off his cloak and wrapping her in it. "Zhara? Can you hear me?" There was no movement. But she was made of fire! The snow couldn't hurt her, could it? Only... he had no idea how long she had been buried in the snow. Even the strongest fire would be weakened by that.

Leaning close to her lips, he felt a weak breath touching his ear, and some of his fear lessened. She was still breathing. He needed to get her somewhere safe and warm. Scooping her up in his arms, Paul trudged up the slope, and, after securing her on the back of the donkey, headed into the cold and the dark to find shelter.

He eventually found another stone hut nestled between two cliffs. It was almost as empty as the one from the previous night, though there was a small bed with a straw tick on it in a corner. Paul tipped the entire content of the wood box into the hearth and fumbled with the tinderbox until a fire blazed in the grate. He then dragged the straw tick off the bed, placed it directly in front of the hearth, and gently laid Zhara down on it. She remained inert, with only her chest moving up and down in a shallow breath, getting shallower by the minute. The crackling fire made no difference to her condition at all.

What to do? What to do? He knew he had to warm her up, but how? He went through the meager supplies they had left, took all the clothes he could find, and piled them on her. When that didn't seem to help, he dug through the packs again and found a bottle of some alcoholic-smelling liquid. He tried a sip. It was horrible, sickly sweet, with a bitter, herbal aftertaste, and was so strong it burned his throat and made his eyes water as it went down. But as it settled in his stomach, warmth started stealing through his veins, making him feel like he, too, could shoot fire out of his fingertips. Yes, this could work.

He lifted Zhara into a sitting position and carefully tipped the bottle to her lips. She didn't stir, but he felt her throat move, so he poured a little more in. There was a spluttering, and Zhara bolted up in his arms.

"Dear Alkonost and Sirin!" she exclaimed. "What is that?!"

Paul let out a sigh of relief. "Some sort of liquor Afron gave us," he said. "It'll warm you up."

"Get me d-drunk, more like," she muttered. Then her teeth chattered, and a violent bout of shivers took over her until she was shaking from head to foot, so much so that she had difficulty swallowing a few more gulps of the liquor. It frightened Paul to see her so frail, she who had always been so full of life and of fire—literally. He drew her toward him and vigorously rubbed her hands and arms and back, to get her blood flowing.

Gradually, her trembling subsided, and some of the diamond-blue pallor faded from her lips, though her face was still wan, and she still shivered from time to time.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

"Hmm." She nodded, nestling closer to him.

Paul's hand slipped under the cloak and grazed her bare skin. Though it was not back to her usual warmth, it was no longer marble-cold, and suddenly he was aware that she was practically sitting in his lap, and his arms were wrapped around her in a tight embrace. Embarrassed, he drew his hand away and set her back down on the straw tick.

"Wh-where are you going?" she asked.

"Oh, I—I'm just—I'm going to—make myself a bed—over there," he stammered, pointing to a corner of the hut.

"D-don't be silly. It's fr-freezing. This m-mattress is big enough f-for the both of us."

Paul hesitated. It really was cold—the moment he turned away from the fire, he could see his breath. Plus, Zhara was still trembling, and the fire felt nice on his hands and face. He gingerly sat back down. Zhara settled into his arms again with a contented sigh—had she always fitted there so well, so naturally? Paul felt a strange urge to run his fingers through her hair, damp from the melting snow, and he had to ball his hands into fists.

"Nightingale took the other donkey and half of the supplies," he said apologetically.

"'s alright," Zhara mumbled, turning her face into his chest. "You saved me."

"I—I didn't do much," he said, trying not to notice how close her mouth was to the open collar of his shirt, how her breath was tickling his skin.

"You did. Thank you, Pavel Petrovich."

It was the first time she'd uttered his name without a hint of mockery or teasing. "Please, call me Paul," he said.

She didn't reply. Certain she had fallen asleep, he carefully lowered himself to the mattress without letting her go.

"I'm sorry I called you a burden, Paul," she whispered.

Paul's heart stumbled. He looked down at Zhara, wondering how he'd ever thought her otherworldly or uncanny. There, snuggled up in his arms, with her eyes closed, her lips, which had started to flush pink again, slightly parted, and her hair falling across her freckled cheek, she looked utterly human, more real than anything he'd ever seen. His name sounded so sweet in her voice that he wanted to ask her to say it again and again. But she needed her rest. "It's all right," he managed. "Go to sleep."

"...You too."

And he did.

***

Paul woke with something tickling in his nose. The window of the hut was a light gray square, and there was a pile of ash and half-burned logs in the hearth. At some point during the night, the fire had burned out, but he was still warm as toast, and he soon discovered why. He was on his back, with Zhara draped over him, her limbs tangled up in his, her hair and his cloak wrapping around them both like a blanket. The tickling in his nose was one of her stray locks. And, to his horror, she was bare under the cloak, all the clothes he wrapped around her having fallen off, and he could feel the hard nubs of her breasts through his shirt, while her thighs were pressing perilously close to the hardness between his own legs. He jumped up and shoved her away as though they were both on fire—which was not far from the truth.

Thankfully, the sun came up just then, and poking out from under the cloak wasn't the indignant face of a girl but a beak and a pair of amber eyes blinking blearily at him. Somehow she managed to look irritated, even as a bird.

"Nightmare—sorry," Paul mumbled, scrambling to cover himself.

Zhara wriggled her neck and shoulders in a gesture that Paul had come to recognize as the avian equivalent of a shrug, and, tucking her beak under her wing, she went back to sleep.

She spent most of that day asleep, burrowed into Paul's pocket under his cloak as usual. He would check her from time to time to make sure she was comfortable, and was heartened to feel her warmth returning. The frigid air and the snow also receded as they descended the mountains, and that night, when they stopped at another shelter, the air was practically balmy.

"How are we going to secure Tsarevna Elena's hand in marriage?" Paul asked over their supper, which consisted of bread and some dried meat—the best he could do under the circumstances. He was only grateful that Zhara had had the foresight to divide their supplies evenly. "Are we simply going to present Afron's suit on his behalf?"

Zhara, who seemed to have recovered completely, much to Paul's relief, didn't mind the meager meal. "No, that's not going to work," she replied, chewing her meat thoughtfully. "Her mother, Tsarina Kostroma, is half-leshy, and thus very proud."

"Half-leshy? Is that even possible?" Paul asked, thinking of the leshy's inhuman physique. Zhara gave him an exasperated look, and he threw up a conciliatory hand. "My apologies. Pray continue."

"Well, Kostroma is very protective of Elena. Other than a few official court functions, she never lets Elena do anything or meet anyone. She keeps her all but locked up." Paul was quiet, thinking of his own mother. Was Elena's mother protecting her, or did she simply want to avoid sharing power with her daughter, like his mother?

"A marriage with Afron would be greatly beneficial," Zhara continued, "as it would join both kingdoms, but Kostroma would never hear of it."

"Having met Afron, I can't exactly blame her," Paul said mildly.

One corner of Zhara's mouth lifted in a sardonic smile. "I agree, but we're not tasked with making Elena fall in love with him."

"So what are we going to do then?"

"How does it happen in those tales of yours?"

"Prince Ivan kidnaps her."

"Well then, we shall kidnap Elena."

Paul stared at Zhara to see if she was in earnest. She grinned. "We shall think of something." It was less than reassuring, but somehow, when she said it, he believed her.

When it came time for sleep, there was a bit of a fuss. Like the shelter the night before, this stone hut only had one rickety bed, which Paul insisted that Zhara take.

"But you've wanted to sleep in a bed for so long," she protested.

Paul may not be heroic or noble, but he couldn't bear the thought of being discourteous. "What, and let a lady sleep on the floor? I'm not some savage!"

Zhara sat down on the straw tick. "We can always share," she said. "It won't be the first time."

Though she said this quite matter-of-factly, Paul could detect—or thought he could detect—the slightest hint of a tremor in her voice, a conscious effort to sound nonchalant. It sent a flush throughout his body, starting from somewhere below his waist and spreading all the way to the very tips of his ears. He would not have a repeat of that morning's humiliation.

"I shall sleep on the floor," he said in a voice that invited no further discussion.

Later, as he was wrapped up in his cloak on the floor in front of the bed, Paul suddenly said, "Am I supposed to fall in love with Elena?" He didn't understand what made him say so; only the question of love had been on his mind lately, and he had gotten so used to speaking his thoughts aloud when Zhara was a bird that he was doing the same even when she was human.

"Why did you ask that?" came Zhara's voice from above him.

"That's how it happens in the tale. Now, I know nothing has happened exactly like it does in the tale so far, but—"

"I can't predict the future, you know," she said, sounding amused. "Why don't you meet her and decide for yourself?"

"I don't think you can simply decide who to fall in love with."

"Is that so?"

"My mother has been forcing me to choose a bride amongst the princesses of our neighboring kingdoms." He had never talked much to Zhara about his mother or his life, whether out of a misplaced sense of pride or simply because it was painful to mention such things, he did not know.

Zhara turned over, her eyes glimmering in the firelight. "What are they like, the princesses of your world?"

"I've never met them," he said with a shrug. "Their portraits were sent to my mother, and she picked out the ones she deemed suitable for me."

She propped herself up on her elbow to look down at him. "So you must decide if you can fall in love with one of them... based on their pictures?"

"I don't think love has anything to do with it."

"I suppose you're right," she said, lying back down with a sigh. "My father married my mother for love, and look how that turned out for him. She broke his heart."

They were both silent for a while, him staring at the fire, her looking up at the rafters of the hut, lost in their own thoughts.

"Still, though... I rather wish I could marry for love," eventually Paul said. It was a foolish notion, of course, a boy's dream. But he couldn't help it. In the stories, the hero and the heroine always fall in love at first sight and live happily ever after, never quarreling, never having to worry if they were good enough. How could he not want the same?

"Perhaps you'll meet someone here," Zhara said quietly, almost too quiet to be heard.

But he did hear her. Startled, Paul twisted his head to look at her. She had closed her eyes and appeared to be asleep. He turned back to the fire, trying to let the cracking and popping of the flames clear his mind. He didn't know how long he lay there. The fire was in danger of dying out and his thoughts were no clearer than before, when he felt something warm on the side of his face, warmer than the fire. Zhara's arm had dropped over the edge of the bed, and her fingers were brushing his cheek, almost like she was caressing him. Not daring to breathe, for fear of waking her up, he reached up, ran his hand gently over her arm, stroking the smooth skin on the inside of her wrist. And, pressing that warm, soft hand against his temple, he felt the wild thoughts in his head calm at last. He didn't remember falling asleep.

Chapter 8

Taglist: @ali-r3n

[cedarboughs]

Hiking Journal: The West Coast Trail

Day VII: Last Steps

Darling River to Nanaimo

One last giant banana slug, the biggest and most beautiful and inspiring yet, greeted us in the breakfast table to bid us farewell to the West Coast Trail I suppose.

I had to rest in one of the hammocks made from washed-up fishing line. The craft these must have taken in the midst of a trek like this! And they are comfy and give the pirate vibes again.

We waded the Darling after walking briefly up its beach-to-forest canyon a couple hundred metres to see the falls.

Then two kilometres of Tideshelf Tango to Michigan Creek, the last campsite, named for an American wood steamer sank in the last years of the nineteenth century — to no loss of life, thanks to the rescue road built in the mourning for the Valencia.

It was misting out of a low sky and the tide was all the way out* so I walked far out the tideshelf into what the map coloured blue, where clams spread like clover.

Two kilometres past Michigan we visited the Pachena Point Lighthouse. This is the westernmost post on the whole Trail. Looking out to sea, it’s open water all the way to Japan.

A short and easy kilometre past there, I was beginning to tire a bit. We broke for lunch at a point overlooking two busy sea lion haulout rocks. The smell of the sea lions wafted by on occasion, but the symphony of barking and yapping from the territory-seeking older bulls and milk-seeking cubs kept up all through our time there. We ate wraps with envelope tuna and cheese that wasn’t quite so hard as when I packed it up.

Then, walking. Nine more long kilometres of inland trail, well maintained and easy to walk, but feeling endless. Final stretches either sap last bits of energy as you feel the cumulative weight of every step it took to get there; or else, there comes an infusion of energy from knowing the end is within reach. I felt both of these ways through those last nine kilometres, mostly depending on whether I was walking up or downhill. Along the way were carved stumps and, somehow, an abandoned motorcycle rusting right on the trail just out of the ferns.

This isn’t in my journal but I remember at one rest I made a point of pondering the tree across the trail. I got me thinking about cedars, which is a thing I do often. I traced with my eyes the striations of fluted bark falling vertically down the trunk like water over falls, then indeed tumbling over rock and soil and older wood just as water would. It’s no great revelation that the Great Bear Rainforest feels so remarkably alive from its abundance of life-giving water and how life piles upon and gives life to other life in all its layers. Coming from the dry prairie, that was the great novelty and reason I so loved the rainswept Pacific drainages. But looking at that plicata I thought, here is a tree that more than any other of its kin, whom I’d see as living extensions of the earth, here is elemental water given towering form. In Waterton I’d seen trees born of fire growing back in the valley, and trees of air wracked by high alpine winds. Every element grows life in time. That’s why a lawn of cut grass feels like such an abomination. How many flower blooms, clover spreads, or rippling waves of seedpods lay aborted in that featureless spread of dying yellow-green? How many tasty free-growing sources of dandelion greens and flowers and milk and coffee and wine? I don’t know how people can choose to live in suburbs among that. Even in a proper city there’s an organic life to the growth of towers like trees and an exploratory sense to the karsts of skyscrapers and an ecology to the succession of streets and neighbourhoods. It’s amazing what can grow when left to its own nature, beyond the human desire for control. It you let it alone, it will surely grow.

A few final tall ladders for good measure in the last kilometre looking over Pachena Bay. This was the harder of the two ways through the section we’d taken on day 0.9, but the tide was back up. Sorry Wallace, but the low tide is only a constant endpoint in a novel that ends there.**

Then we were done, and there was the car at the trailhead.

It was a long drive across the Island to Nanaimo, although really, to call the first mileage-marked seventy-five kilometres to Port Alberni “a long drive” of a couple of hours after taking the last full week to do that distance seems unfair. Past Alberni we finally did stop at Cathedral Grove to keep our legs from totally seizing up as we sat eating chips in the indulgent languor of off-Trail life. “The Big Tree” at Cathedral Grove, a six-metre-diameter Douglas fir, was indeed a bit bigger than all those cedars and spruce we walked among along the Trail, but it was strange walking along interpretive paths so flat and maintained.

On the way into Nanaimo we stopped for takeout pizza. I can talk about blackened fresh caught cod and rare freshwater crab but let’s be real here— that tandoori chicken pie eaten on a TravelLodge bed while waiting for the shower was the most satisfying meal I ate in B.C.

* Wallace, D. F. (1996). Infinite Jest. Little, Brown. Well, almost.

**Yes I know that you could have a whole argument about where or even whether Infinite Jest “ends.”

[issylra]

Hi, @chaosheadspace here (Anon cause sideblog).

I recently had thoughts about Hob's relationship with food and I just now saw that you have a farmer bingo prompt? Awesome?!

I just feel like a little part of Hob's brain would constantly be occupied with food related things, like "what am I eating today, do I still have flour/milk/eggs" and so on. He'd be a bit of a prepper. And farmer Hob would be a nice continuation for that. He can't starve if he is growing the food himself, right? Right?! So he starts small with some beans and turnips and then he might have a chance to acquire a run-down farm, and hey, he's due for a new life soon anyway, so it all goes downhill (uphill?) from there.

Just - Hob on a tractor blasting music on his headphones. Hob sitting outside in the evening with a beer watching his chickens. Hob buying some goats and getting into making cheese to sell in that small weird organic market in the next town. (Dream coming over and massaging his poor, sore muscles.) Hob getting offended that Dream won't try his cheese (You know I don't eat. I MADE THIS MYSELF!). Dream having very serious conversations with the chickens. Matthew being offended. Yeah.

I'm seeing myself out now.

This is such a cute idea! When I saw that square, I immediately thought of the game Stardew Valley, but didn't have the connecting piece for how to use that yet. Now I'm imagining Hob ready to try something totally different after several decades of city life. He decides to take over a rundown farm on the outskirts of a small town after his last "death".

Time for Hob to finally work through some of the lingering issues he has with food after living on the brink of starvation for 80 years.

Time for Dream to indulge his human kink while watching Hob do all the manual labor.

Time for Hob to make Dream omelets with the fresh eggs from his farm and feel like he's providing for someone again.

Time for Dream, who is still scarred and weary of humans post-fishbowl, to experience some small town hospitality. Everyone smiles at him, everyone says hello (remember that asshole in episode six who backs away when Dream tries to be friendly? The opposite of that). The little old lady up the road immediately takes to Dream and constantly gives him little gifts like a knitted scarf and batches of fresh cookies.

Just both of them getting to flourish in the midst of a quiet, simple life. Plus, Matthew getting jealous of the chickens? Hilarity.

Thank you so much for the inspo! I haven't clicked the link you sent yet but will as soon as I finish making this very ill-advised cup of evening coffee.

[derangedanomaly]

Whats lilians biggest priority

Keeping her friends and those she considers close near her.

Is she satisfied With her life

Pft, no Ofc not! Everything is just boring and her past doesn't help either

What character would she pick in dnd

A rouge duh

Where does lily feel most at home

Near blade or a friend

Whats their greatest skill

making necklaces out of body parts

How does she feel about romance

she loves it so much, would go feral for it from time to time.

Whos the person she loves the most

Blade.

What's their Fav food

MAC N CHEESE, the only other thing she'd go feral for

How self aware is lily

very self aware, why wouldnt she doodle or write her thoughts away if she wasnt?

Whats her ideal life

She has her ideal life! (Does she tho?)

How messy is her room

As messy as blades room is, she rarely leaves it

Has she ever broken someones Trust

OFC how else would she rack up kills?

How does she Deal with grief

...

Whats one thing lily would change about themself

Her scars.

Who would she main in Super smash bros

Splatoon girl

How forgiving is she

depends on her mood

Does she have allergies

nope none nada

How well does she keep secrets

Shes very good at keeping secrets, she managed to actually keep a few from blade

Whats her fav memory

Her old friends

Whats their most expensive thing

A probably something from blade

Who would they marry in stardew valley?

Hailey.

How does she feel abt religion

She knows deities and stuff like that exist, why else would she have her scars?

What does she hate in other people

Not liking flowers (unless ur kris)

Whats the easiest way to offend her

Make fun of her Hobbies or blade

What are her Hobbies

killing, making necklaces, stargazing, writing, doodling, and reading

Whats her self esteem like

horrible, she'll never except a compliment whats her worst memory

the day her au got destroyed

Whos her biggest inspiration

Blade.

Who would she kill without consequences? Why?

She already kills without consequences

How organized is she

As organized as blade is, but better than him

How would her friends describe them

She doesn't have friends rlly

Whats her biggest secret

Her scars.

If they could live anywhere in the world, where?

Probably outertale, it's so pretty

What traits is she attracted to

Blade.

How does she feel about lying?

She lies all the time, managed to pull a few lies on blade

If they could Go back in time and change smth, what would It be?

...

Who does she main in Mario kart?

Splatoon girl, all the way

Whats their biggest fear

Losing everything again

What makes them want to befriend someone?

Supporting her Hobbies

And heres a bit more lore regarding partners

Lilian has had MANY partners before blade, lily killed them all ofc because they were such a bore to lily. Each one was too nice for lilys taste which ended up with them dead in less than a day sometimes, blade has been the one and only that never bore her (other than her first partner)

I like how most of them are just- Blade. 💀✋

I love learning about y'alls OC's fr

[luckystorein22]

Indulge your taste buds with the heavenly flavor of Arla Havarti Cheese Slices, now available at Lucky Store's online gourmet store. Made with high-quality, organic cow's milk, this cheese is a deliciously creamy and buttery treat that's perfect for snacking, cooking, and entertaining.

Each slice is crafted with care to ensure that you experience the rich, nutty taste and smooth texture that this Danish cheese is famous for. It's a versatile cheese that can be used in a variety of dishes, from grilled cheese sandwiches to salads, and even melted over your favorite burger.

Arla Havarti Cheese Slices are also an excellent source of calcium and protein, making them a healthy choice for all cheese lovers. With Lucky Store's online gourmet store, you can order this cheese with just a few clicks and have it delivered straight to your doorstep.

Experience the indulgent taste and quality of Arla Havarti Cheese Slices today and elevate your culinary experience to the next level. Shop now at Lucky Store's online gourmet store and take your taste buds on a journey they won't forget.

[comicdiaries]

I gained a new appreciation for cheese on this trip, let me tell ya!

[mhalachai]

more thoughts on vacation planning

thanks to everyone for your vacation suggestions! I have some plans now… lots to do :D

I thought I'd share the suggestions here compiled for your reading pleasure - might be some ideas in here if you're looking for a bit of a break this summer (amid the heat, forest fires, and other climate disasters):

First, some ideas if you're local to the Vancouver area (or planning on a visit)

Vancouver

Day trip! If you want a quick ferry ride, try Bowen Island or Salt Spring Island, or if you want to stay on the mainland, try Sasamat Lake

Maple Ridge tree walk or zip line (or axe-throwing!)

White Rock beach and pier (bonus - taking a double-decker bus from Vancouver down)

Lonsdale Quay (featuring the ever-popular ride on the seabus)

Honey's Donuts in Deep Cove

Granville Island before 12pm on a weekday

Fireworks! But make friends with someone who lives in the West End who will put you up

Lynn Valley suspension bridge (and the local trails – very nice, very free) (and honestly, you can skip the Capilano Suspension Bridge theme park - it's super expensive and not really worth it)

Try the new Michelin star restaurants in Vancouver and then go to the other restaurants you know that are better and enjoy those too

Lastly, if you want some more organized nature, try the Van Dusen Botanical Garden

Now, onto general suggestions!

Self-care

Sleep for a day or three

Do all the hard stuff that a 9-5 gets in the way of - go to the bank, book that eye exam, etc.

go get that warning light in your car looked at, i mean it mhal

Do as much gentle housecleaning as interests you

Spa experience - massage, mani-pedi, other spa things

Bubble bath/hair mask/other home spa pieces

Do a thing

local zoo or aquarium

Art galleries, science centres, and museums

Botanical gardens

Events hosted your local library

Local events/fairs

Trip around to the vintage/antique/flea shops

Check out local second-hand record stores and/or bookstores

Do a thing (+ Effort)

Touch grass/sand/water/trees/flowers. Bring a book and read in nature

Hiking

local walking tours

Kite flying

Activities(tm) - such as paddle board, horseback riding class, go-carting and so on

Maker space - pottery or print making or woodwork

Eating

Every restaurant you haven't tried but want to

Local breweries/wineries

Hit up the local city page on reddit and see if there are any restaurant rec places - they can be hit or miss but sometimes there are some gems.

And this one from @krchov is so cool I'll paste it here in its entirely:

Dedicate time to making a map of the food carts/cheese shops/etc in a specific area of your city. Compare the quality of similar wares in each one. Collect data. In the end you will have a cool map/dataset, new favorite food place and on your wandering you will probably happen upon some before unknown interesting places.

happy vacationing!

[rekikiri]

I will never be the type of person who can make their little towns/homes pretty in video games

like no I’m not going to organize my farm in stardew valley, my farm is going to be efficient for my needs and nothing less

are the DOZENS of jam barrels pretty?? are the chests I have lining the front of my home and around my sell box in different colors that only I know the exact reason for? is my home filled with mayo and cheese makers, even more chests, and a bunch of other things attractive? no

are the piles and piles of fish and bugs and items thrown on the ground outside of nook’s cranny for when they open again pretty? the randomly placed items just bc I wanted them somewhere but have no idea where to put it?

the only game I think I manage to consistently keep looking good is my boat in spiritfarer and that is only bc I’m making it pretty = moving the buildings into a satisfying assortment

[mirach]

The Hobbit as a full 12-course meal

Hors-d'oeuvres

Seed cake, buttered scones, apple tart and raspberry jam, mince-pie, pork-pie, cheese, salad, eggs and cold chicken with pickles, served with a choice of beverages: tea, beer, ale, porter, coffee or red wine.

Enjoy this very unexpected selection as a free buffet and a promise of a great culinary adventure!

Amuse-bouche

Roast mutton eaten with bare hands, served with an alcoholic drink of dubious origin.

In a shocking contrast to the customs of fine dining, this dish lets you shed the decorum and possibly makes you question your decision to participate in this meal. Do not let the doubts turn you back!

Soup

Homey creamy vegetable soup with freshly baked bannocks.

Let this dish remind you on warm hospitality as you submerge yourself into a valley of taste. 

Appetizer

Crack cake with whipped cream.

Down down the gullet!

Salad

Caesar salad* served with pomegranate juice.

A salad named after an assassinated leader is the ideal dish for this course.

*Does not contain horse or pony meat

Fish

Raw fish served with cold spring water.

The epithome of freshness, caught especially for you in a pristine underground lake. For a hightened culinary experience, ask out waiter about the option of eating this course in complete darkness, allowing you to focus on the taste.

First main dish

Baked birds roasted over open fire with a side of cream and honey, served with mead.

A batch of fifteen birds serves the whole table. Let your taste buds soar above the smokey aroma and land in the sweet aftertaste of cream and honey from our best supplier (bio quality guaranteed).

Palate cleanser course

A fast followed by a selection from the aroma of wine, apples, or butter.

It is important to let yourself rest between the dishes. Be patient! We won't arrest you, of course, but it would be a shame to leave now. The sense of smell has an important place in fine dining, too, so let the selected aroma carry you into the next dish.

Second main dish

Flambéed lake shrimp with skewered dragonfruit and 24k gold flakes.

This dramatic dish hits just the right spot!

Cheese plate

A selection of five cheeses.

The carefully selected cheeses form two opposing taste groups on the plate, a true battle of taste with the dinner guest as a winner!

Dessert

Beorning Yule honey cake served with hot mead.

This sweet cake baked according to a signature traditional receipt evokes the atmosphere of a wintery evening spent in front of a fireplace.

Post-meal drinks and pastries

Tea and cookies, with the option of smoking our best selection of pipe-weed.

A deserved moment of rest after the grand culinary adventure.

(Written for the event organized by @spring-into-arda )

[tozettastone]

I'm thinking about what poor MCIT Jess actually knows about getting cheese from goats.

From what I know about traditional cheesemaking, without looking it up: you sterilise everything, bring the milk up to roughly around blood/body temperature, add in rennet, leave it to set, cut it and separate out the curds and whey and then squeeze and press the curds into cheese. You would salt it and then wash it with brine every day for... a mystery time... to encourage the crust to form. That's my fairly basic understanding of the cheesemaking process.

But I think sourcing the rennet is where I'd run into huge problems. I know rennet is a bunch of enzymes from nursing animals* and I have some vague ideas that it's meant to come from the 4th stomach of the very-baby baby of whatever mother animal you're using for the milk. For cow milk cheese, a calf; for goat milk cheese, presumably a kid. I think you can get it from sheep too, so... lamb. But I'm not convinced I'd even know which organ the stomach was, in real life? Like I am pretty sure I'd just be like "well... I dissected a heart once, so that's what that is. Around it... lungs. So the stomachs are definitely one of these masses, but god knows which." And, if presented with the stomach of a slaughtered goat, I wouldn't know to extract and use it in such a way that you'd get the enzymes into your milk without also getting like, idk, e coli into your milk.

So on that basis, I think this is also where Jess would fall down in her involuntary jaunt through Stardew Valley: Nightmare Mode. She'd have no trouble making cheeses like cottage cheese, and I think she'd probably be fine making butter and cream too. But the rennet.... the rennet you use to make your cheese last... rip.

I'm gonna look up what people used to do with regard to rennet—it has to be cleaned somehow, surely. But it is also kind of a fun game to be like, "what do I, a modern human, know about X thing?" and then assume that's also how much Jess could possibly know. I'm so sorry I didn't spend more time watching Townsend's, Jess. :'D

*modern rennet can also be derived from bacteria so if you're reading this and it has somehow caused a vegetarian cheese panic (sorry), rest assured your cheese marked vegetarian will still be vego, they are almost certainly not lying to you. the kid or calf or lamb was traditionally seen as kind of a happy byproduct of milk production anyway.