#parsnip you bastard man

[skullamity]

PARSNIP YOU LITTLE SHIT! THERE WERE EXACTLY 17 MINUTES IN BETWEEN WHEN I TAPED THIS SIGN UP AND WHEN HE CLIMBED OVER.

BEHOLD, MY SON, THE ONLY CAT IN THIS HOUSE WHO DOES NOT SEEM TO COMPREHEND THAT THE GATE MEANS NO CATS IN THE KITCHEN WHILE WE ARE COOKING! >:(

[crab-in-a-pocket]

how i wooed harvey and later, how he broke my heart (the bastard)

okay, @sevencosmicapples asked for it so here it is:

note:

mild mild spoiler about the ten-heart events. this spoiler is more my opinion than anything else, so read at your own risk!

another spoiler about getting married and where to find the thing you need to marry someone! im on mobile and formatting is a bitch so i'll mark the start and end of this spoiler with a two asterisks in bold **

so, i started out wooing harvey straight from year one when i found a flower and he liked it. i was like, "oh my gosh, he's a dilf who likes flowers, he must be mine." so i wooed him with produce and flowers, and i bought him coffee when i could.

then, i finally met elliott. see, when i started the game, i focused on my crops and money over meeting people so he was one of the last i met. i was already at three or so hearts with harvey, but not enough to dance with him at the flower dance. so, when i saw elliott, there were alarm bells ringing in my mind and i just thought to myself, "oh god i am a cheater but take my parsnips."

but because i am an inconsisteny idiot, i forgot to give harvey two gofts a week and sometimes, i gave him none at all because the hustle demanded that i spend my time fishing at the beach, where, incidentally, elliott resided.

so my heart ratio with elliott easily kept the pace with harvey's and eventually, i gave both of them bouquets. i know, i'm a cheater.

soon, i did both of their heart events. harvey's heart event was spectacular and so touching while elliott's was kinda meh. because of this, i resolved to marry harvey.

**

so, spring year two came and bam, i bought a pendant as soon as it rained and, naturally, i passed by elliott'a place.

**

dashed in to greet him and elliott replies sweetly, even more so than usual. my heart broke a little, but i said goodbye and carried on to harvey's place.

there he sat, my future husband! said hi, he said hi back and asked me if i had any medical questions (why does he still talk like this? i'm your girlfriend, for yoba's sake) and then he FUCKING GOES OH WELL IM BUSY RIGHT NOW B Y E

he told me to take a HIKE just as i was about to propose. had the pendant in my hand and everything. how could he? my heart shattered and i felt so upset. the audacity of this man. elliott didn't treat me that way and he never would.

goodbye, harvey. i'm sorry it had to be like this.

--

i am now married and i pick up my daughter. i give her a kiss, swiping her bright, tufty red hair from her mouth as she tries to eat it. i put her down in her crib and i greet my husband in the kitchen, pulling him in a long, slow kiss as i tangle my hands in his long, red hair.

he tells me that he think today will be a good day. i agree with him.

[corner-stories]

little thief

Calem. Serena. Chespin.

Swords. Ale. Medieval Times.

2882 words.

(ao3.)

For once in his life, Calem — Squire to the esteemed Sir Wikstrom and a potential Knight-to-be — could not do his job.

In his right hand was a dagger, an ornate tool that was far too beautiful to be wielded by a bastard like him. His fingers were grasped around it so tightly that the wire-wrapped handle was pushing deep lines into his skin.

In his left hand was the creature who had been raiding the kitchens of Shabboneau Castle. It was barely a foot tall and had a brown body, its head was green and what appeared to be its ears looked rather spiky. Calem held it by the scruff of its neck while a blissful smile remained on its face, apparently unaware of what was going on around it. The cooks and servants called it a Chespin — in their eyes it was a vile little parasite that had snuck in from nature to feast on the Castle’s supply of cheese and grapes and oats. Once the head Chef caught the little vermin, he handed it to Sir Wikstrom’s Squire and told him to get rid of it like a good Knight-to-be would.

So there Calem stood, holding his Master’s dagger to the throat of a creature that was happily staring at him with the beadiest eyes he had ever seen.

Calem’s hand was shaking. His usual stoic facial expression was turning into a look of fear. His heart was beating fast like a warrior’s would before a battle. His breathing was exceedingly rough and uneven.

Moments passed and Calem came to a conclusion that would lead to the best outcome for him and the Chespin.

He sighed and put the dagger in the sheath on his belt. He then held the Chespin properly, letting it lean against his shoulder like it was a newborn babe. With a sigh, he walked out of one of the castle’s many many spare rooms and went into the hallway. As Calem weaved through the other servants and workers of Shabboneau Castle, the Chespin was wagging its tail in utter excitement.

As they walked, Calem asked the little thing if it had any idea on what was going on, as if he was speaking to a human and not the pester that had been raiding the kitchens of Shabboneau Castle.

…

…

…

Calem took Chespin to the castle gardens, where it could at least roam free amongst the flora and fauna and perhaps play with the other creatures who lived there. As nice as the place was, King AZ seldom spent time outdoors, much preferring the company of his Court or a pitcher full of wine.

Calem grabbed an apple from one of the trees and gave it to Chespin. Knowing that the fruits were not deemed fresh enough for those of Royal blood, he was sure that neither him nor Chespin would face punishment for such an act.

“This should tide you through the day,” Calem said as he held the apple to Chespin’s mouth. The creature eyed the fruit curiously, giving it a few cautionary sniffs before taking a nibble. After tasting the morsel, Chespin grinned and looked at the apple in its paws, happily chewing on it like an emperor would to a lavish feast.

Calem grinned. “Probably tastes a lot better than table scraps.”

As Chespin ate, the young Squire took the creature to the farthest end of the castle gardens. There he set the little thing down. Once on the ground, Chespin dropped the core from its paws and looked up at Calem with curiosity in its inky black eyes.

Calem gave Chespin a polite nod, then began to walk away. He only took about two steps before hearing the creature prodding after him. He was quick to turn around and hold his hand out.

“No, you can’t come back with me. My Master would never allow it. Now shoo!”

Chespin seemed saddened, as if its entire world had shattered right then and there. Calem could not ignore the way Chespin looked at him, but knowing his orders he guessed that it would be the safer thing for both of them if they went their separate ways.

So firmly, Calem turned around once more and walked back towards Shabboneau Castle, doing his best not to think of the rather adorable creature that had somehow grown fond of him.

…

…

…

With a Tourney coming up, Calem was hard at work helping his Master get prepared. Being one of Kalos’s most esteemed knights, Sir Wikstrom prided himself on his prowess as a warrior. He needed to be in fighting shape to compete with the region’s much younger Knights, so five days a week he gave Calem a blunted longsword and ordered him to fight back, asking that the Squire never go easy on him.

In terms of swordsmanship, Calem still had a long way to go. He was much better than he was a year ago, when Sir Wikstrom decided to have a mere stable boy act as his Squire. Back then he swung the sword like it was a stick and he was a child playing make-believe, causing Sir Wikstrom to immediately leave him lying on his rear end in the midst of the castle courtyard. He would usually follow this up by saying Calem was better at sword sharpening than fighting.

But after months of practice, Calem was able to last longer in the one-on-one sparring duel against this master. Of course, Sir Wikstrom was able to win nine times out of ten, but Calem was capable of getting some clever strikes and thrusts in here and there.

As a result of the increased training schedule, Calem’s every muscle began to ache. Morning and night he felt the strain of his days in his arms and legs. He felt it even in the midst of the simplest tasks, such as shining shoes or fetching water and wine for his master.

Two days before the tourney Calem was in the castle courtyard. Despite his pain, he felt himself willing to power through it for the sake of some extra sword practice. With a blunted two-handed sword in his grasp, he unleashed his wrath upon a sparring dummy. Said target was propped upright and tarnished from years of practice, as much more qualified and skilled warriors had honed their craft on it. The strikes the mere Squire was giving out would probably do a fraction of the damage already done.

Although Calem preferred thrusts in the midst of sword fights, he was adamant that he practice his strikes and cuts as well. Even if thrusts were more effective to exploit the gaps in an opponent's armour, Calem did not want to neglect that area of combat. Knighthood may have been a mere dream to bastards like him, but he could at least try to aspire to the ranks of the highborns.

Calem was not alone when he practiced. Sitting on a stack of wooden crates was Serena — King AZ’s Royal Cup Bearer and yet another orphaned Kalosian bastard employed at Shabboneau Castle.

Unlike Serena, Calem had not grown up in a Lumiose children’s home before getting sold to the Castle. Instead he roamed the rocky streets of Ambrette Town in his youth after the loss of his parents — his unwed mother had worked in a tavern and died of an illness when he was young; he never knew his father, but it was fair to say that the man was one of the hundreds of soldiers who died in one of the Kalos-Galar conflicts. At this point there had been so many scuffles that it was hard to know which exact battle the man had perished in.

Calem came to the Castle when he was caught stealing bread from a merchant’s stand, having been given to the authorities and sent to work as Shabboneau’s Royal Stable Boy as punishment. Hopefully now he had atoned for his dreadfully benign sin of stealing a single bun, his Master certainly thought so before promoting him to Squire.

Serena was roughly his age — fifteen and somewhat gawky despite her youth. Her hair was the colour of honey and was often braided to be kept clean. When she was not enabling King AZ’s wine habit, she was exploring the gardens or spending time with Calem. He wasn’t sure if it was because she actually enjoyed his company (if so, then he would seriously begin to mistrust her judgement) or if because bastards and orphans often stuck together.

As Calem practiced his strikes on the dummy, Serena seemed keen on keeping her eyes on him. She had a cup of ale in one hand and in the other a palm-sized pie filled with onions and parsnips and mushrooms and turnips, which was one of the more luxurious foods that servants were permitted to eat. She took a sip of her drink, then asked Calem:

“Where is your Master now?”

Calem hit the head of the dummy, letting out a gravely grunt as his sword made contact. “He is bathing,” he answered without looking away.

Serena grinned cheekily. “And he didn’t need you to wipe his bum?”

Calem stopped swinging for a second to give her an unamused glare. Sometimes her wry humour took a bit of getting used to. “Evidently so,” he replied in the driest tone he could muster.

“What’s our esteemed King doing now?” he then asked, going back to hitting the dummy. “I thought he would need his Royal Cup Bearer at all hours of the day.”

“Our Majesty is sleeping off a Royal Headache,” Serena claimed. She rolled her eyes, then took a bite of her pie. “Sometimes I think I do my job too well.”

As Calem continued to strike the dummy, Serena held out her cup of ale towards him. With a nod, he retracted his weapon and took the drink in his hand. “Thank you,” he said, then took a hearty pull from the vessel.

The bitter taste of the cloudy ale came to him as a welcome relief. Even after trying some of the finer wines that Kalos had to offer (as it was a perk of Squirehood), Calem always felt more at home with a frothy mug in his hand.

Serena noticed Calem’s evident fondness for the brew and smirked. “At this rate you’ll be Sir Calem: Knight of Amber Ale and Form-Fitting Hose.”

Humoured, Calem gave her a sly look as he glanced down towards his legwear. Like many other Squires and Knights and Soldiers, he donned a slim pair of hose to allow for better movement during his daily routine. On occasion he would overhear the female servants expressing their appreciation for such garments. Seemingly in the vein of that, Serena saw it fit to express her own thoughts regarding Calem’s choice in clothing — only her comments were a lot more playful and friendly but mostly sassy.

“I better be,” Calem replied with a comical air of boldness. “I’m sure the fair maidens of Kalos will appreciate the view.”

The two shared a laugh, then Calem handed her the cup of ale back and returned to his training. He was sure that had the dummy been a living person they would most definitely be dead by now. Either that or severely injured to the most hellish extent.

For a moment the two just remained as they were — Calem furthering his attempt at Knighthood and Serena lounging without a care in the world. They may have been not feasting until dawn or being entertained by court jesters, but even the lowborns had ways of enjoying their spare time.

After a few moments passed and Serena was close to finishing off her meal, she glanced down and noticed something peculiar on the ground of the castle courtyard. She swallowed her final mouthful of buttery pie crust and let out a hum.

“Look over there.”

Calem’s sword collided with the head of the dummy with a mighty force — with his hand still on the grip and the blade still touching the target, he glanced down to see what had Serena’s undertunic in a twist.

Hiding behind an empty wooden wine barrel was Chespin. Its ears were perked up and its eyes showed off an air of curiosity. It stared at the pair of bastards, then looked to Calem in particular.

“Friend of yours?” Serena asked.

“In a way,” the Squire replied. He lowered his sword and handed it to her, then knelt down towards Chespin to look the green and brown creature in the eye. “Hello there, are you lost again?”

Seeing as Chespin was not capable of human speech, it simply walked towards Calem with a clumsy waddle and pressed itself against his shin, wrapping its arms around the limb in an adorable attempt at a hug.

Confused, Calem blinked. “Uh… I’m afraid I’ve run out of apples, Little Imp.”

The grin upon Serena’s face was bright like the sun. “Awww…” she cooed. “It likes you.”

Calem nodded, his bewilderment persisting. “Yes, I can see that.” He knelt down and picked Chespin up, holding the creature with as much care as he did before. He looked the little one in the eye and tickled its stomach like how a mother would to her beloved child. “You’re a real clingy one, aren’t you?”

Serena hopped off the stack of crates and set her cup down. She approached the two and began petting Chespin’s head. “I think it just  wants a friend,” she said. “Is the little thief that was running through the kitchens?”

Calem nodded. “Indeed — I released him in the gardens and thought he’d be on his way, I suppose I was wrong.”

Serena scratched behind Chespin’s ears, something that the creature seemed to appreciate. “That doesn’t seem like a bad thing, maybe he wants to be a Knight like you.”

Despite the look of contentedness tugging at his face, Calem felt a pang of worry at the bottom of his stomach. “I’m not sure if Sir Wikstrom would let it be, there are no laws allowing Squires to have creatures with them.”

“But are there any laws stopping Squires from having them?” Serena brought up, playfully smirking at her friend.

For a second Calem began to think — in his head he ran through the various laws of Squirehood that the Knights of Kalos had created in the days of yore. Most of them pertained to public drunkenness and the importance of keeping a Kalosian Knight neatly groomed, but none of them applied to the current situation at hand.

Calem glanced to Chespin, who was currently snuggling its face into the crook of his elbow, smearing green grass stains all over his favourite gambeson. Despite the hesitancy, he gave the little one a grin and lifted the creature high above his head, its tiny feet excitedly swishing through the air.

“I suppose a few days together wouldn’t hurt.”

When Calem brought Chespin down again, he let the creature climb on his shoulder, where it was very glad to be. It settled itself on the top of his head, looking down at its new friend with absolute joy. “I suppose even Squires need Squires sometimes,” he decided, knowing full well that he had made the right choice.

For a few seconds, the pair of bastards beamed at the new creature in their presence… only for the moment to be ruined by Chespin tugging on Calem’s hair.

The Squire’s eyes widened as the creature’s claws grasped onto his dark black locks. “Oh… oh Yvetal, please don’t do that,” he tried, reaching up to get Chespin off his head.

Serena was quick to help, swiftly stepping over and taking Chespin by the scruff of its neck “Whoa, slow down there, most humans don’t like that.”

Once the matter was dealt with and Chespin had let go of Calem’s hair, the Squire sat down on the stack of crates, his newfound friend snuggling onto his lap.

Humoured and exasperated, Calem let out a sigh and then smiled. “We’ve got a few boundaries to discuss, don’t we?”

Serena laughed as Chespin and Calem got to know each other more. Moments passed, then she looked to her left hand, noticing that she had still been holding the Squire’s blunted longsword during all this time. Curiously,  she lifted up the weapon and felt its weight in her arms. It was lighter than she expected, or maybe her body was simply harder where a Lady’s would be soft. Perhaps her years of labouring in the Castle had amounted to something after all.

Grasping the longsword in both hands — one by the crossguard and the other by the pommel, just like Calem had taught her — the weapon immediately became more maneuverable. She raised the mighty sword upwards just like Calem did, positioning her feet apart in preparation to throw out a strike.

From where he was sitting on the crates, Calem watched in intrigue and amusement. “You like that sword, don’t you?”

“Who wouldn’t?” Serena said with a confident grin. It was as if merely holding the weapon imbued with the power of Yvetal and Xerneas’s forces combined.

With a tight grip on the handle, Serena brought her sword down and struck the head of her dummy with all of her strength.

[corsairturned]

𝚃𝙰𝙶 𝙳𝚁𝙾𝙿 𝟷 ⎯【 𝙶𝙴𝙽𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙻 𝚃𝙰𝙶 𝙳𝚁𝙾𝙿 】

[nebulousmistress]

Night Watch

Hellos @parsnipping

Because I have no chill and these tiny scenes keep popping up in my head, here's a random goings on in the Resistance base while Nil is sneaking around.

Archex limped through the Resistance base. Ever since they'd been found by the Expeditionary Squad his leg had pained him more, probably a side effect of the stress. He knew what RX-3081 meant and what was coming and, in a way, so did General Organa. That was why they were cut off from resupply, backup, or even evacuation. They were bait.

He hated being bait.

“Dammit, Archex, use your frelling cane!”

Archex ignored the voice calling after him. He preferred to ignore Zade Kalliday on principle, at least until the man said something important.

Zade ran up behind him, Archex's neglected cane in one hand. “You're not going to get any better if you don't use the cane,” Zade scowled.

“I'm not going to get any better anyway,” Archex said sullenly.

“At least use it,” Zade said, holding the offending stick out. “Watching you limp around makes me hurt.”

Archex didn't take it, arms crossed over his chest as he glared. It was almost a pout.

“Look, please?” Zade asked. “I'm trying to do something nice, you lout. I could hit you with this instead, put you back in your cot for a few days. How's that sound.”

Archex's pout changed to something akin to amusement. “I'd have you on the floor before the blow fell,” he taunted. “I wouldn't even have to touch you.”

Zade snorted. “Night watch says you can't.”

Archex smirked and turned to limp away.

Zade swung with the cane, aiming for the scar high up on Archex's thigh. One hand darted out, catching the cane as Archex twisted to avoid and then use the blow. He followed the swing, flipping Zade off his feet and slamming him down on his back. Without touching him.

Zade looked up in the sudden shock of being laid out so easily. The weirdness of Archex laughing at him added to the unreality of the situation. Since when did Archex laugh? Worse, Archex then yawned and stretched in a grand exaggerated gesture. “Guess I'll turn in early,” Archex said as he limped off toward the bunks. Though for once he actually used that cane the way he was supposed to.

Zade stayed on the floor. He should know better than to bet against a Stormtrooper, even an ex-Stormtrooper. The bastards cheated, all of them. And now he had night watch. Kriff.

[povvertaken]

for @fabletold​ / meme / inbox always open / under cut for length

The Easter feast is abundant. Goderic, ignorant of the best way to manage the food stores, directed the kitchen to produce their best. The High Table is covered in dishes of fine quality: deer cooked with ginger, chicken in a mustard sauce, walnut bread and fresh butter, crushed potatoes and mead soaked carrots and parsnips. The stewards pour out wine, mead, beer, whiskey, and Elfriede tries not to keep track of the cost of it all. This is merely an Easter feast, and Goderic has begun talking of engaging more foreign guests such as the Earl de Rais. She knows it is all his poor attempt to show his strength. How could her brother know that Henri doesn’t spare a moment’s thought about the food served in the court of Wihtwara? Her gaze slides sideways to the man in th seat of honour, on the right hand side of her brother and between the two siblings. This position will matter more to him than all the candied fruits in all the kingdoms combined.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see his profile. He is striking, even without the colour of his beard. Striking, and too intelligent to trust. She can predict his moves only by predicting her own. Even as the thought should sicken her, there is a kind of thrill to it; to the idea of an equal. The steward approaches, ready to fill her goblet with wine. She hovers her hand over it, preventing him in a subtle gesture. Its bad enough the expense that’s been lavished on this feast. She will not add to it more than necessary.

She know that Goderic has been told of Alfred’s dream. A united England, without kingdoms. Should such a thing arise, Wihtwara could never hope to stand against the combined forces of Mercia, Wessex, and Northumbria. His plan to curry favour with wealthy foreigners is not a bad one, as such. She sees the merit of it. But Goderic has never been an accurate judge of character. He allows the leaching priests to manipulate him, he seeks the approval of any man with a stronger personality. Henri can see it, plain as day. And he will not be the only one. Goderic is not the ruler to enact this plan. She watches his brother, watches the way he watches an Eadlorman’s daughter. He’d be happier as a Lordling, chasing skirt and hunting. He hasn’t the stomach for ruling.

In one corner of the hall, the musicians start up. Between drinking and feasting, guests will get up and dance. All this celebration for their nailed god, without a thought of why they do it. Tonight, Elfriede will keep to her own faith, and welcome the Spring in a more traditional way. Under the table, Henri’s leg bumps against hers, too heavy and purposeful to be mistaken as an accident. She flexes her hand, refusing to meet his gaze. She cannot deny the intelligence in his choice - to publicly court a princess speaks to her brother’s opinion of him, is a show of power to all the men that eye his position. But she will not give that power to him without something in return. Her favour is worth her weight in gold, and she needs more assurance.

It is only later, when Goderic leaves the table to dance with the Ealdorman’s daughter, that she sits back in her chair and leans her head in Henri’s direction.

“He’s as wet behind the ears as a pup, chasing that girl. If she’s not with Aldhelm’s babe already, she will be within a month.”

She watches Henri, cannot deny the delight she feels as he absorbs this information. Like her, he feeds on information with more eagerness than anything produced for this feast. She notes he has touched little more than the meat he was served, presumably waiting for her brother to insist he indulge in their offerings. Goderic is too fool to play host sober, let alone drunk on wine and women. She picks up the decanter herself, pouring a little wine in her own goblet.

“Can I tempt you, your Grace?”

Without waiting for an answer, she pours a little of the ruby red liquid into his glass. It is not the favour he may have wanted, but it is a gesture, nonetheless. No other man to sit at the High Table has been served by the Princess herself. She knows it, knows that the wine has wet her lips and spread a pink blush across her features. Her eyes glitter as she looks at him, and she inclines her head in a smooth gesture.

“I’m afraid I must retire to my chambers. Might I prevail on you to escort me?”

If Henri held any displeasure with her, an all but open invitation to her bed should soothe his ruffled feathers. When he assents, she stands and takes his arm. There is a fluttering feeling of being trapped, as he holds hi elbow close to his body, and covers her hand with his. It is all so courtly and proper, but she knows something of the man who does it, and suppresses a shiver that ripples down her spine.

As they move through the crowds, she watches Goderic. He is caught in the girl’s beauty. She is pretty in a simple way, all yellow hair and rosy cheeks. Elfriede is surprised by the disgust she feels, the ridicule she knows she could pile on the girl. As they pass, she leans in to Henri and whispers too loudly: “It’s such a shame, but without a mother how is she to know? No man will marry a whore, even if she is the King’s.” She doesn’t look back at the girl, at the impact of her words. She is caught up in the wicked knife of a smile that cuts across Henri’s face. 

Inside her chambers, Elfriede feels like a lit fire. Even Henri’s displeasure over dinner at her lack of attention thrills her. His lack of constancy is a game of wits, and she bears it only so long as they return to one another like this: her chambers, alone, staring at each other like wolves. She discards her circlet, her veil. The heavy braid that hides her long hair is unpinned and released. She watches him, watching her, standing before him like a bride.

“You made a pretty piece of work with that girl. What has she ever done to you?”

She might mistake his tone for a reproach, if she did not see the laughter in his eyes.

“She is a whore for any man who will lie with her, and her father has debts. Aldhelm might have married her, even with no hope of paying them. She will not snare my brother, not even if she bears his bastards. He can find another.”

“Will he?”

They both know her brother is easier to guide without a wife. If he were to marry or take an official mistress, Elfriede’s position as the most influential women at court would suffer. By extension, so would Henri’s. It is in both their interests to ensure that Goderic remains biddable, softened to their suggestions by flattery. Henri had at least managed a little of that before Goderic decided the feast would be best spent mooning after a girl.

“Can he?” She counters Henri easily, as though the conversation isn’t enough to have them executed for treason. As though it doesn’t make her breath hitch and her heart pound. As though she isn’t desperate already to feel Henri’s bruising kiss and possessive grip around her wrist. “He is weak for any pretty face that soothes his ego and laughs at his jokes. It is the foolishness of his sex.” She regards Henri for a beat before speaking again. “A mistake I find you free from, Henri.”

She turns her back on him, unlacing the jeweled, decorative belt around her waist. She drops it to the floor, moving her attention to the laces of her sleeves. As she gently unpicks the cords and releases them, she continues: “I’m unsure what to make of it. If you were to be weak-willed and cow-eyed, I should hate you. And yet I spent the entire Easter Mass and Feast waiting for your attention. Do you look after me as I leave a room, or does some other hold your attention?” The sleeves slide from her arms, and she turns back to face him. Her eyes shine in the low candlelight, and she is acutely aware of the distance between the Earl and her own bed.

“I could never bear a weak man, and yet I find myself wondering: what would it be like, to know a man loves you so truly?”

Henri is fond of poetry, of great heroes and romances. Let him think she is of the same mind, some part of her character predisposed to such foolishness. She has no interest in love. She is enlivened by the idea of a man weak only to her, a solid wall of a man who would lie beneath her and kiss her fingertips in utter devotion.

“What would it be like,” she muses, locking eyes with him, “to have one man be weak for you, above all others?”

Henri takes a step forward, and another, and Elfriede refuses to give up any ground to him until he is before her. In the light, his face is painted red and black as the flames flicker. He reminds her of a wolf, with bloody muzzle, and she licks her lower lip in anticipation. Be wolfish, she thinks. She has no need of a milksop man who will be commanded. She is interested in worship, not childish affection.

“Is this why you torture me? You wish to see me weak?” Henri growls in a register that she feels deep in her bones. She doesn’t bend beneath his gaze, but juts out her chin and narrows her eyes.

“I am a Princess of royal blood. I am entitled to torture who I please.” She breathes shallowly, despite her confident words. “I do not torture you purposefully, though. Never you, Henri.” She reaches out, slides her thumb over his cheek as she cups his face. “I want your devotion, and no other. I want - I want,” she speaks fiercely, drawing so close to him she feels she could climb inside his skin. His pupils are so wide they almost obliterate the colour of his eyes. She looks up at him with her own dark eyes, and presses a kiss to his jaw. “You need not be weak for anyone else. But give me what I desire, and I will be yours, entirely.” She mumbles the words against the column of his throat, and only steps back as he slides to his knees in a fluid, feline movement.

She looks down at him, feels heat pool in her belly, and moves her hand to his hair.

“For you alone, I will be weak,” he says, so softly she almost doesn’t hear.

Yes, she thinks. Yes, yes, yes.

[pinsplantsandpikes]

A Stitch(wort) In Time Saves Nothing If You Don't Pick It (16/03/20)

(Tumblr decided to delete my draft so I ragequit this for two days)

The sky is bright, empty, and blue. The air is briskly cold but clean. I have so far seen a lot of Lords And Ladies, a lot of Lords And Ladies, incessant amounts of Lords And Ladies.

I am exploring lakeside today instead of in the heathland. I am determined to find some Ramsoms like the other foragers I follow have. The general advice has been waterside woodland, as old as possible.

With the recent rain there is a lot more waterside than before! But the age is potentially a problem, so we shall see what we can see and live in hope.

On the suburban end of my walk, leading up to the lakes, there has been thriving greenery starting to shrug off the grey of winter. A rife of blue flowers started to emerge as I approached the gate, leaves spotted with white, quite pretty. Alkanet or Bugloss, and in their abundance, absolutely beautiful and rather like Forget Me Not flowers for the individual heads. I should have recognised them instantly - rather than letting the app confuse me into hoping they were Comfrey - for they look exactly as they do in Elder Scrolls IV Oblivion, the game designers did a wonderful job on the plants.

Picking my way through the swampy ground I eventually made it to the path which followed a seemingly circular route, I chose to go left to start with. I passed some grumpy swans and a fisherman mired in mud to practice his craft. I don't envy the conditions but give him props for going to such lengths. Takes guts to be that close to swans, evil bastards that they are.

Continuing onward, I see some dogwalkers, numerous water based plants which look like Irises, more bloody Lords And Ladies, and wonder of wonders I find St John’s Wort--!

Not.

Of course I didn’t find anything so forageable as that. It was Shrubby St John’s Wort, otherwise known as Sweet Amber... uses, none. Cute little plant though.

Next up is Wood Avens, which might actually be useful at last! Ish. After some looking, none of its uses are really supported by science. Ugh.

All I want is to learn to find usable, useful, edible plants. It is not really so much to ask.

The next step in my journey was to decide whether or not to try and cross a flooded area of stepping stones, or stepping logs rather. The water ran over them and there was no indication how much they would sink. I would hardly drown if I slipped. I would get at worst a nasty shock, sore bum and a bit soggy. But on principle it was the risk vs reward debate. I vaguely knew my options for turning back, the right turn I hadn't yet taken that would eventually lead full circle to my origin point.

Or the waterlogged path, of which I knew nothing.

So, naturally I took to the logs, got one wet sock but otherwise survived the scramble intact. It was an adventure!

The view was spectacular, a river on one side after a steep drop, and the lake I’d been circling on the other, waterfowl taking off from the river and flying over my head. I carried along the path, excitedly looking at my feet for potential Ramsoms or other plants, breathing deeply, hoping to smell the strong stench of garlic. But nothing, just damp soil, water, and the fresh air.

It was along this path I ditched LeafSnap as my identification app. My final straw was it umming and ahhing about hogweed and whether or not it was really a parsnip. With lesser hogweed that’s not a dangerous confusion, even if it’s drastically wrong. With Giant Hogweed that is potentially lethal, given the plant’s infamous toxicity (seriously, go investigate that terrifying beast). So, instead I moved to iNaturalist, which so far has worked much better, keeping identification assumptions much more closely related, and peer-reviewed by real people when unsure. Happily trotting along I found more Lords And Ladies, brambles everywhere, grasses, dock, more of my good friend Poor Man’s Mustard, and what looked like Forget Me Nots!

Or more specifically, Wood Forget Me Nots. Gardener variety Forget Me Nots are my favourite flower, but this variation might actually leap to the top. The leaves were so fuzzy and soft. There were fewer flowers than the plant I know, but that may be the time of year as much as anything. The petals were a far richer blue, matching the Alkanet.

At this point my battery dropped below 50% so I started winding my way towards home, deliberately without turning back. I followed the muddied ground towards a swampy plain full of rushes or similar. Amongst the tall reeds there were some with what looks like bugs munching on them, fluffy little curls. When I got closer I saw that they were actually part of the Willows as iNaturalist identified them.

That’s just the family of plants, it wasn’t confident enough to narrow it down to the specific, but I’m happy with that much for something I don’t intend to touch or eat. It’s so cute though!

After the Willows I had a decision to make, with my battery running low enough it might not make it home. Either I went the wiggly way through the houses, or a straight line through some awkwardly overgrown wilderness. Just as I was weighing up these options something caught my eye. Bright greenery in a nest of dead leaves.

And in amongst the emerald sea in there were tiny white drops. Bright tiny blooms of delicately deliberate petals.

This was Stitchwort.

And it was so utterly beautiful. I’d seen flowers like that before but I have no recollection of where. They were exactly the kind of thing I wanted to see. Useful, edible, I even was developing a stitch after 80 or so minutes on the hoof at that point! But did I pick any?

No.

Because I’m an idiot who didn’t think of that till I’d already gotten halfway home, back through the undergrowth scritch scratch scritch scratch and back through the mud squelch squirtch squelch squirtch. It was only at I was opening the gate to return to the main road that I kicked myself for not getting down on my hands and knees to pick some of the Stitchwort, that I could have used it on a practical basis, tested its power. But no, my silly modern brain wanted to go home and have a banana to restock on potassium. Defying the whole premise of trying to reawaken older knowledge and customs.

But still. I know where they are. I’m pretty sure I could find my way back to that small cluster under that tree. They work well in salad apparently. Maybe I’ll do that for myself, a quarantine picnic, lockdown lunch of flowers and leaves.

Of course, yes, that’s the elephant in the room. I got home around 5pm.

Just in time to see the BBC tell me the country was on lockdown.

[raindrenchedstories]

Forever home CH 19

YES. It’s happening. No I didn’t abandon it. I’ll make a second post.

Richter sat miserably on Bear’s shoulder. Holding onto a thick chain necklace, and using the giant’s shoulder straps as a seat belt. The past few days he didn’t speak much. It took a little over a week to coordinate the meet up. In that time, Bear had been trying to pull the little fellow out of his funk.

It wasn’t really much use. Instead the nightly visits were converted into time to console his small friend. Richter had been reunited with his family prior, so there wasn’t much in the way of paperwork afterwards. Nor the more invasive, but much quicker memory probings.

Instead, he was just left to feel like a failure. Neil had been luckier, and managed to find the whereabouts of his father. The two managed to meet with one another and promptly decided the memories were too painful. Apparently they offered to stay in touch.

Bear’s relationship with Archibald took a small break in light of the events. Both men felt too guilty enjoying themselves while their friends were in such misery. Though, they did still spend plenty of time together. It was less focused on them, and more on... Richter.

Despite being surrounded by friends and family, there seamed to be a lot on the mans mind. As he stared glumly from his vantage point. Bear swallowed. Drawing the small mans eyes onto him. “Not far now. Um... There’s a warp.”

“That’s fine.” Richter nodded, before settling into his little ball again. As it turned out, it was fine. Not even Richter’s extreme discomfort with the gates was enough to shake him. Bear crossed the new surroundings. Having to pull a map from his overall pocket. He hoped this visit was enough to shake the human.

Crossing his way to Lev’s home he heard a tiny gasp from Richter. Finally some excitement from the man. And Bear could see why. Levas home was much like the woman herself. Flourishing with life. Many stone guardians, animals long since dead and reanimated through magic, surrounded her home. Protecting it. Her garden grew high above any small one’s head. A few even towered over Bear himself.

All vegetables and fruits. Quite the contrast to his flower garden. But nestled at the roots of every great tree, was a tiny little patch of small foods. Strawberries, peas, parsnips and the like. All of it culminated into a massive hill, with a door. Not quite Archibalds mountain. But it was large enough for a giant to live snugly.

“Gotta give her props for decorating.” Richter commented. Bear could only hum in agreement. He’d never really seen Leva’s house until now. Though, it clearly spoke of her. Bear’s knuckles gently wrapped on the door frame. He got a stony hollow barking in return. There was an argument before she shoved her way through the door.

“Quickly. And get a good hold on Richter. I don’t want Arrie playing with him.” Bear slunk inside, a firm hold on his human passenger. The large dog guardian bounding behind his knee caps. Excitedly attempting to greet the new guests.

“er. Hello miss Leva.” Richter inclined his head. Poking just above Bear’s index finger. Tiny hands resting just on the middle digit for support. Probably cover, as well. Richter was never a fan of new anything for the first three days.

The fiery giantess grinned in kind. “Good day Richter! Avery is waiting for you in his shelter. He’s anxious about your visit.” She gave the human a brilliant smile afterwards. Bear thought he saw his small pal blush. Soon enough Richter was set beside Avery’s shelter, and Bear was dragged into the living room. Just out of ear shot.

“How’s he holding up?” Leva hissed. Bear could only grimace.

“He’s... Well he’s holding. It’s just going to take some time. Maybe more time than I imagined. I’m getting worried.” He admitted.

*

Avery opened the door for him, leading Richter in. Once the giants were gone, and Arrie was sufficiently shooed into the other room. Avery leaned in conspiratorially. “Okay so I’m guessing it didn’t go well.” He threw an arm over Richters shoulders, guiding the human to his living room.

Which was apparently turned into a room sized pillow fort. Richter stared in bewilderment. “Not... Really. No.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, mouth agape.

“What? It’s effective. I don’t get a lot of privacy around here.” Avery dragged him into the fort. “I should thank you for giving me the idea. Here. Back towards the book cases.” He began crawling back to the indicated end. Resting on the bookcase were two small make shift bags. Supplies and clothing squirrelled away. A rough cut in the plastic and wood of the back wall of the book case making the plans clear.

“You’re escaping?” Richter gave him a curious glance. Though, he wasn’t about to pass judgment. He wouldn’t blame anyone for choosing an alternative to his own decisions. He was quite sure Neil would be doing the same if it weren’t for the ability to learn magic through Archibald.

Avery just laughed in return. He placed a warm hand on the humans shoulder. “No Richter. WE’RE escaping. Today. I had to pull some strings to get ‘em to wait. But I have a few friends waiting outside. I’ve already cut a hole in the wall across the counter. We just have to be quiet. Arrie is like a personal alarm system.”

Richter glanced at him. Eyes wide. “Oh... Avery I. I’m not sure about this.” He shrugged. “I know you don’t like Bear but-”

“Richter. Listen to me. It’s not about that. Hell if it doesn’t work out, I’ll lead you right back to Williams door step. But how long has it been since you last tasted freedom. Real freedom?” Avery squeezed his shoulder.

Richter grimaced. Then shook his head. “Look. I’m not going to judge. And it has been a while since-”

“Good let’s go!” Richter was dragged out by the arm. Hissing his disapproval of the situation.

“Avery just listen dammit.” He was already carrying both bags for the elf as he began prying the back wall open. Suddenly a noisy barking sounded beside them. Thunderous and alarming. Leva and Bear both entered the room in time to see Avery pry the wall open.

“AVERY!” Leva’s voice was stern. Disapproving.

Bear just stood. Crestfallen. “Richter?” Richter wanted to say so many things to clear this whole debacle up. Instead he felt something press against his throat. A firm arm gripping his shoulders. His hands still full with both bags.

Avery snarled behind him. “Don’t you fucking move! You freaks just keep your hands to yourselves. I don’t need magic to slit his damn throat.” Bear froze up. Leva clapped her hands over her mouth. Avery started backing them both through the hole.

“If I even see one shadow waiting for me outside. Hell if I even THINK there’s something out there to stop me. You’ll have to be ready to bury this bastard.” He continued, never taking his eyes off the giants. Even doing his best to hide his form behind Richters. Being tall and sturdy had it’s disadvantages, it seamed.

He stuck the knife in the wall opening, shutting it behind them. Avery turned Richter around. “There. Now you have an excuse if you choose to stay. But please. Just walk with me. I just want to talk this out. Okay?” Richter rubbed his neck, but followed through the surprisingly thick, expansive walls.

Avery’s gate was erratic and sloppy, his eyes stayed ahead. In the minimal light from some unknown source, he could see the elf’s ears constantly turning. “Have you been sleeping? Like. At all?” Richter stared out at the carved and chipped walls. His response was hysterical laughter. Which basically told him everything he needed to know.

“I can sleep when I’m out!” Avery grinned. Richter shoved his hands in his back pockets, losing himself in his thoughts a little. None of which involved flattery towards his elven friend.

He gave a sigh before shaking his head. “You’re wrong.”

“Huh?” Avery glanced at him, eyes sparkling and wide. Filled with dream like wonder. Richter almost felt like he was about to break the news about Santa-clause to the guy. He took a breath to steady himself, then continued.

“The moment you’re out, it’s a game of survival. Let me ask you. Can you hunt? How about your friends? Do you know how to build a fire? Or purify your water? What tools have you brought for yourself?” He started rummaging through his bag. Nothing but clothes. Mostly summer wear.

“Do you have anything to help you survive the cold?” His lips pressed into a hard line. He almost wished he’d called more. Given Avery more of an outlet. The guy had a life before the war. Of course he knew he’d needed some more than this. Right?

“I...Didn’t think of that. But that’s why I want to bring you. You’re clever and innovative. Something we elves just plain aren’t. If it doesn’t have to do with magic, we fail at it.” He grinned. “Where did you learn all that anyhow? What do humans do when giants aren’t scooping you up by the ankles?”

Richter sighed. Stopping halfway down the tunnel. Avery paused as well. “Honestly? I only lived because of my old man. He was always paranoid about the end of the world. He prepared himself, and his family along the way. It ended up saving our lives. But there were still things we needed to learn.”

“... This is your chance to pass that on, you know.” It all came to a head there. Richters eyes started to tear up. He just gave a bitter laugh and motioned for Avery to join him sitting.

“I just can’t Avery. I can’t.” He shook his head resting his chin between his knees. “Hell I honestly believe living with Bear is better for me. Anything is better than wondering if you’ll wake up tomorrow or not.” He was shaking. And for once, someone his size held him. Pulled him closer.

“What do you mean by that?” Avery’s voice was emotionless, but that was fine. He simply wanted to understand. Richter took a deep breath. Held it for a second. Then let it go. Along with it, he spilled his entire past.

Richter wasn’t that old when the world had ended. He’d fled. Pulled by the writs to the nearest shelter with his parents. He couldn’t find Neil, or his family, But they were assured he was safe. That was a good thing at least. They waited in the rescue centre for days with no word. Supplies were dwindling, and surrounding him were unfamiliar faces he wanted nothing more than to know.

Despite this, folks remained hopeful. Joking, laughing, and making the best of a bad situation. Richter remembered one particular old man, who had made a point to read stories to the younger children. The older ones had taken to acting out some of the fairy tale drama behind him. If for no other reason than to distract them from sad times. It was just until disaster relief could get in.

Then the word got out. There would be no rescue. There would be no better times. Or rebuilding. It was a real, honest to god, end of the world. Richter vaguely remembered lamenting the lack of television. Of all things. But his parents, they were more concerned with getting the hell out of dodge. And for good reason. The bad news turned everything into a riot.

Even the old man with his stories and wonder, made for the hills before things got out of hand. Taking a few good souls with him. Richter often wondered what became of them. But over time, they mattered about as much as the buildings he slept in each night.

They first took shelter in the basement of their former home for a while. Gathering supplies and preparing for a longer trip. What followed was a long series of small trips here and there. Quite often they’d run out of food, or water. And gaining these resources was less than easy.

People would gather in small collectives. Some were docile, even friendly towards his family. Some weren’t. But everyone was hungry, thirsty, or tired. It ground down to negotiating what was needed between peaceful parties. Or an outright brawl for life giving supplies.

Richter remembered being forced to yank a satchel of food free from an elderly woman at one point. While his father stood firm between the pair and a large young man. They traded blows for a long time. He remembered the look on that lady’s face, as his mother dragged her back from him. Shrieking and pulling hair. There was only desperation and contempt in those eyes. If ever Richter needed to remember terror. He revisited that moment.

On occasion, Richter would be sent to a different room in their shelters. Always near the door. To keep watch he’d been told. He was fairly certain it was for other reasons, however. A few months later, his mother ended up slow, sluggish sickly or off balance. It was about then his parents realized their mistake. Richter was soon left holding his baby brother. A little brother who did not last long in the new world.

Richter held his arm in front of Avery. In all it’s scarred glory. “This is the only thing I have left of him. From the night we lost him. My parents left me alone to look after him. A pack of feral dogs decided to roam by. I thought they’d leave me alone. I mean, I was bigger than them. But I’m only one man.” He shuddered. “I still remember his screams.”

“Wh-... How did you get out of that?” Avery sat with him. Staring Richters scars down like they’d offended him.

“Dad heard me. Us. He had both hands and a weapon. I had a stick and a baby. They never blamed me. But... I couldn’t sleep after that. I kept thinking those dogs would be back.” Richter shrugged.

“And that’s only one of the things I didn’t expect. It’s a mess out there. Honestly I’m not the only one with a story like that. There are things you can’t be ready for. I’m not saying this to discourage you or anything. I don’t actually know WHY I’m saying this.” Richter ran a nervous hand through his hair.

“Because you’ve had a bad run of luck, and you just need to talk it out.” Avery shrugged. Richter scrunched up closer to himself. When finally he heard something he didn’t even know he needed to hear.

“Well, I finally got my answer to my biggest question. Why you could deal with my... Condition so well.” Avery pulled his knees in, mimicking Richter. “You’ve been there.”

“No. That’s because my mother was a therapist.” Richter laughed. “Look. I’ll walk you out and give you a few pointers before you guys try to survive on your own. Besides, you still have your magic, to some extent. So it’s not going to be so bad.”

“Right. I hope you don’t get into too much trouble with Bear.” Avery stood, tugging Richter to his feet. Richter shrugged. Laughing it off. The worst Bear could do was lock him in a room for an hour or two. In comparison it was nothing. Just a bit boring. Maybe a little degrading.

They spent the last of the walk talking about survival tactics. Until something drew Richters attention. “Wait. Where did you get that knife? And how did you do all this?”

“Like you said. I still have some magic. And the knife.... It was given to me by my friends outside. The resistance.” Avery shrugged. “You can ask them where they got it when we meet up. We’re almost there.” Light pooled in through a small hole leading outside. Richter took a breath of fresh air. Before turning to Avery.

“I do appreciate the attempt, you know?” He smiled sheepishly. “It’s just...I can’t.” Avery just grinned back and nodded slowly.

“I wish I’d known earlier how things were. I guess we find freedom in our own ways. Right?” They stepped into the warms sunlight, and the knife was reapplied to Richters throat. Lightly. Avery glanced about warily. It turned out to be well within his right.

Richter could just make out a few tell tale signs of Bear, but he couldn’t see much else. The brute could be stealthy when he wanted to be. No clearer had it shown than that moment. The only reason Richter knew he was there was having lived as the mans pet for so long.

There was just that looming sense. It was far away, almost invisible. But Richter could just feel it. He half expected to look up, and see the giant with a casual cup of coffee and a smirk for the ages. Waiting for the inevitable scream and fall. Such things still happened. Though now it was more a game between them.

Not this time. Richter knew damn well he was being watched. Bear was waiting to spring from his hiding place. Waiting to rescue him. Or scold him. Though Richter really wondered if it was really worth either. Of course, Bear had no idea what was going on.

Avery gave a short whistle. Three elves emerged from the garden. One gave Richter a harsh look. He folded his arms. Speaking quickly. Avery shook his head, responding in kind. Neither of them wanted to talk to him, it seamed. So Richter was left in the dark. Eventually it turned into an argument.

Richters eyes shifted over the group. They were all lean men. One bore a few scars from battles passed. Another had bright blue streaks across his skin. Another kind of scar, Richter had been told, from magic. The third was better off, clean of injuries.

The conversation finally translated. “So you’re just going to turn him lose? Avery just slaughter him now.” The blue streaked one commented. Avery shook his head.

“You just said he was a valuable asset! It’s not like he’s going to rat you out. He’ll have no idea where we ARE.” He argued. Poking his own palm to accentuate the point. “We just need a way to contact him without being noticed and-”

“And what Avery? You met this human what. Once? Twice? You’re really willing to put your life in his hands? OUR lives? Look at him. Pampered little pet. Give me one reason he won’t turn right around and give his master our location, and status.” The clean one barked. His eyes flicked over Richter. A sneer pulled his features.

Richter just shrugged. Waiting patiently for something a little more substantial to happen. “Besides, when have we elves needed any other species’ help?” The streaked one snarled. Their hands were twitchy. In an all too familiar way. Resolutely, Richter took two steps back. One to the left, finding himself safely behind Avery.

The friendly elf’s ear turned towards him a moment, before returning to his companions. “Listen, I had to kidnap this damn human just to get him out. Bringing him along would be a liability. His master would hunt his ass down, and by extension ours.”

“You said he’d come willingly!” The scarred one piped up.

“Everyone is willing with a blade to their throat.” Avery countered. Things were starting to go south. Richter could feel it. But Bear was there, right? He’d be protected if things went wrong. Relaxing his stance, Richter turned his head towards the three aggressors.

“Are you an idiot?” The streaked one spat out. His eyes started darting in every direction, ears swivelling nervously. “Is his master at least a soft heart like yours?”

Avery cleared his throat. He shook his head quickly. “No but-”

“Who is it then? Do we know them?” The scarred one kept his full attention on Richter. Eyes widening. The human, in turn, shrugged in an ‘I don’t know man’ fashion. There wasn’t much he could say in this situation. Or do. He couldn’t deny the fact that he had an owner. Or that they would be protective of him. Bear was nothing if not vigilant when it came to Richter.

It occurred to him. Would Avery be left alone to enjoy his stolen freedom? These elves fell under the responsibility act as much as he did. If a human were to try the same thing. Would they be hunted down? He was starting to understand the paranoia.

“We do, he’s-” It happened in a blur. Avery was wretched aside. The unmarred elf snagged the humans arm before something cold, and painful stung into his ribs. Richters eyes blew wide. He managed to stare up at his attacker. Before he heard Avery scream.

“He’s WILLIAM THE WARHEADS!” A look of horror struck the trio. The two marred ones glanced at the one with the knife in Richters breast. Then at Richter himself. Neither of them had to ask what would happen next. The clean one just released the blade. His hands trembled.

Avery shot for him, shoving the attacker aside and supporting the humans weight. “Richter. Oh gods above. Richter I’m so sorry this-” A mighty roar of anger crashed from some unknown hiding place. Richter had only enough time to see a massive palm snag his attacker into the air. The other two jolted away.

He clutched Avery’s shoulder, struggling to breath. “Av- A-a-a-Avery. How bad?” He winced watching the scene behind his elven friend. The blue streaked one dropped to his knees, hands up. There was a gasp as he was plucked from his position on the ground. The scarred one tried to flee, and was quickly snagged.

A looming shadow fell over the both of them.

*

It didn’t look good, he couldn’t understand either mans ramblings. Richter was spluttering out names at random. Both his, and Avery’s. As for the elf. He kept repeating apologies in his native tongue. He would occasionally check over his shoulder, wince, and look back to Richter.

It was clear the attack was unplanned. Based on Avery’s response. However, it happened, and now Richter was in critical condition. Where were Archibalds spells now? Of course protection against stabbings were tricky, there was no spell for true invincibility.

“Avery. I can’t see how bad it is. Hold up your hand if there’s a chance.” He tried to keep his voice from shaking. He would not repeat his past mistakes. Minutes passed. Avery remained still, fretting over Richter’s injuries. Bear licked his lips nervously.

When it was too long with no response, Bear reached forward. Avery’s voice cracked into a scream, but the giant paid it no mind. Instead, he scooped the small human into his hand. There was too much blood. Richter was struggling for air. He took a shaky breath.

“Ricky?” The humans eyes snapped to his, he seamed to force a laugh, leaning back.

“Hey big guy.” He winced. “Not exactly the ‘goodbye’ I was expecting when all this started.” There it was, that ever present smile Bear thought was extinguished. Only, it was far from a happy occasion.

“Don’t send yourself to the grave early bud.” The giant tried to smile, but getting Richter to any kind of medical facility would take an agonizingly long time. Avery was useless with the inhibitors, and Lev was no healer. Bear scrambled every memory he had searching for some kind of answer.

“Hey Bear?” Richter’s voice was merely a whisper. He was struggling to hold on, but the fight was draining him fast. The giant was sure his hands were causing the man a small earthquake.

“Yeah Richter?”

“It’s stupid I know. But was I... Fuck...” He paused, then cursed one more time. “Fuck it I’m dying anyways. Was I a good pet?” This shook Bear from his panicked stream of thoughts, turning to the man in his hands, he sat dumbfounded. Richter’s form was shaking with effort.

In the days after Richters translation Bear had stopped considering him a ‘pet’. He’d always just been a small housemate. A friend, and the only person he’d ever shared most of his concerns with. But there was a time before that. Bear gave a soft laugh. “Yeah. Yeah you were...”

“Hah. More than Archibald can say for Neil then. Beat him at something.” Neil... Oh how would Bear break the news to Richter’s long time friend? The two were thick as thieves. Sure at some point, he would have had to anyways. Neil was a familiar. Destined to live as long as Archibald did. Neil. Familiar. That was it!

Like a bolt of lightning a realization hit him. Bears eyes lit up with glee. “Richter! Ricky I think I can help you. But I need your answer on this. I need your permission.”

Richters eyes were starting to glass over. It had might have been just a bit too late. But he gave a short nod. Sputtering something that Bear hoped was ‘yes’. His palms lit in a feint green glow. Channelling magic between the humans limp form and his own. Every nerve sung for a moment, before the same glow echoed back from the humans form.

Richter pulled in a deep breath, then fell still. Eyes shut. The glow faded. The group sat in the garden waiting. But there was no response from the human. Bear took nervous pulls of air. Just waiting. “Richter?”

[redemptionbaby]

Sorry I keep asking about Flaco lol, you just *chefs kiss* are so good at writing him. You make me wanna hold his hand and cuddle in bed all day and grow a lil garden with him.

thanks my good bitch. It’s not trouble at all. I dream of the very same thing.

Living with Flaco Hernández 

He doesn’t actually care about when you or him wake up. He doesn’t even really care what day it is. Not like he’s got a job to go to.

That said, he goes to bed and wakes up kinda like clockwork. He’s an old man who can’t stay up too late.

But being awake doesn’t mean getting up. If you’re still asleep, he might just lay and admire you for a while. If you ask for him to stay in bed and cuddle, he’ll pretty much never refuse. It’s not like he has anywhere better to be.

And if you’ve got the get-up-and-go out of the two of you, sometimes he’ll try to tempt you into staying for cuddles. Sometimes he’ll pretend to be asleep and hold you in a death grip so you can’t leave bed. Because he’s a bastard.

You start a little vegetable garden with him, it’s too cold to grow much of anything else. Mostly tubers like parsnips and carrots. You guys eat a lot of stew.

There’s not much to maintain. He does the weeding and you to the watering, neither of which needs to be done too often because of the cold.

He carves in his spare time, and learns to do the same to vegetables. He makes roses out of radishes for you, how to peel apple slices and little potatoes so they look like rabbits. He makes your dinner look like a fuckin’ bento box.

[holidayclownsinc]

okay, so here’s a break down of anna’s animals, so let’s see where this gets us.

animals in general:

5 dogs

3 cats

20 horses (3 of which she doesn’t own, but boards them)

3 cows,

2 pigs,

2 goats

6 chickens

4 geese

4 sheep

1 llama

a metric shit ton of bees

and not animals, but she does have a garden in the summer and a small greenhouse attached to the first floor of her home (i’ll make a post about her house and the ranch later)

okay, here’s a break down in names and breeds

5 dogs:

chief, alaskan malamute

duckie, rottweiler

serg (sergent general is his full name), pitbull

creedence, newfoundland

buck, australian shepard

3 cats:

robert howard (bob), f1 savannah cat

lady, norwegian forest cat

bastard man, barn cat

16 horses:

occo, hanoverian (the grandson of the horse she won the olympics on and her prize stallion)

jasmine nights, hanoverian (another pedigree horse, prize mare)

captain king, hanoverian (the sire of occo, an old ass horse but a good boi)

belle, quarter horse (loren’s horse)

dayspring donner, friesian (she just likes friesians man, and she’s got a team that pulls a sleigh for christmas)

fastflame babe, friesian (the youngest of the friesians)

starshine, friesian

rocky, running quarter horse (the difference between a quarter horse and a running quarter horse is that the running is a lot smaller but a lot faster. faster sprinters than thoroughbreds)

whiskey, draft/quarter horse mix (eli’s horse)

thundersilver dark step, running quarter horse (she’s a blue roan and the fastest horse that anna owns but is the biggest asshole)

scotty, shire (the biggest horse she has standing at 18 hands [that’s six feet at the shoulder because horses are only measured up the shoulder])

fidler joe, running quarter horse (36 year old rescued retired rodeo horse that doesn’t know how to walk)

revolutionary vagabond, thoroughbred (rescued retired racehorse)

shady empire, thoroughbred (rescued retired racehorse)

dolly, missouri foxtrotter (red roan and foxtrotters are gaited horses, meaning that this breed as a type of movement that is unique to the breed, usually for how smooth the gait is)

star, quarter horse, mj’s horse

ripley, quarter horse 

dottie, a spotted appaloosa and possessed by satan and goes into dissociative states and commits atrocities 

angel, quarter horse 

lionedes, quarter horse

3 cows:

parsnip

agnes

berges

2 pigs:

webber

babe

2 goats: these goats will lose their minds if you yell skinny legends at them (just take a guess on who did that)

jonas

starship

6 chickens

destroyer, the rooster

roscoe

sweetums

jigsaw (she’s the meanest chicken)

sparkle

rihanna

4 geese:

hellion

apocalypse

goblin king

demon

4 sheep:

barbara

cher

bob ross

africa (only responds to it if you sing the tune of africa)

1 llama:

jack, named him after her fave deputy

[the-desert-dancer]

20 Headcanons about Muse/OC

Russell Pasternak, my Ghoul bastard

Tagged: @cyndercrys

Tagging: @couriers-mile, @adaar-i, @vkm11, @datura-tea

1. Pasternak is a very fancy dresser, constantly wearing dress pants and waistcoats. Like you never see Pasternak wearing anything less than fancy dress.

2. Pasternak was an accountant in the Pre-War world, working with Vault-Tec and RobCo with their finances

3. One of Pasternak’s biggest clients was Frederick Sinclair, the owner/creator of the Sierra Madre. Their relationship was strenuous at best, given Sinclair would spend his money like crazy and it drove Pasternak up the wall

4. Sinclair actually gave Pasternak an invite, to attend the Gala Opening of the Sierra Madre, but Pasternak politely refused. The man hated parties, and that decision honestly may have saved his life

5. During his trip to Zion, Pasternak brought an umbrella with him, to help shield him from the sun. The umbrella also doubled as a hidden sword.

6. Dean Domino and Pasternak are absolute bastard friends. Like they pretend to be all good buddy-buddy and working with each other, but they’re both planning on how to betray each other the second those bomb collars get removed

7. Pasternak’s parents pressured him into becoming a doctor, but Pasternak was not a fan of working with the sick and the dying.

8. Pasternak never told Veronica about Christine and Father Elijah, after his trip to the Sierra Madre, as he was grooming Veronica to be his successor and did not want her to become “distracted”

9. The only reason Pasternak helped Cass with her revenge on the Van Graffs and Alice McLafferty, was for vendetta reasons. The two caravan companies had been messing with Gun Runner caravans and stealing from them, which affected Pasternak heavily given Pasternak was heavily invested in the Gun Runners.

10. Pasternak prefers Nuka Cola over Sunset Sarsaparilla

11. Pasternak suffers from intense pains in his knees, from a combination of arthritis and old age. It prevents Pasternak from being able to run for long distances

12. Pasternak was born in Boston, Massachusetts

13. Pasternak’s favorite singer is Vera Lynn

14. Interesting quirk is that Pasternak has absolutely atrocious writing. Like it looks like a spider dipped itself in ink and scrambled across a page. Its why Pasternak prefers typing stuff out instead of writing it out

15. Pasternak is the polish word for ‘parsnips’, a fact that absolutely drives Pasternak insane and he is thankful that there are little to no Polish speakers anymore in the fallout world

16. Pasternak cannot stand Mirelurks. He finds them to be absolutely abhorrent creatures and that they should all be killed on sight

17. Pasternak blackmailed Arcade into recruiting the Enclave Remnants to Pasternak’s cause, or else he’d rat them out to the NCR

18. Pasternak attended Harvard University, where he took boxing lessons as well as learning to become an accountant

19. When the bombs finally dropped, Pasternak was sitting on his couch reading a book.

20. Pasternak used to be able to play the violin in his youth, but lost the ability to play after years of not practicing

[noctuaathena]

"Do you like redfish?" Gartus considered the question, "I like to eat them. I don't like 'em personally, they're vicious bastards." "How many fingers does a redfish have?" Ingold asked. The big man frowned, pushing up mountain ranges across his brow. He chewed at the side of his cheek. "Hmmm..." "It's a joke Gartus, it was a rhetorical question!" Ingold spread his hands in mild exasperation. "Oh," said Gartus. He continued to stare at the Rock. "How are we going to get in there then?" "One for each fisherman who tried to catch it." "What?" Gartus turned to look at Ingold, "What are you wittering about man?" "That's the punch-line. One for each fisherman who tried to catch it." "Very funny." "You ruined the timing..." Ingold muttered, rubbing at the reddish stubble on his chin. "So, how are we going to get in?" Gartus asked. "Well ... we could batter the gates of the Inner City open with your head. Or," Ingold countered hastily as Gartus made to rise, "you could concentrate on the plan." "I'm all ears." "So you like to eat redfish?" "This is the plan?" Gartus growled. "When did you last eat one?" Ingold continued doggedly. "I'm warning you bard, if this is another joke..." "When?" "Parsus city, Reeses Tavern on Lockheer Street, roast redfish on a bed of parsnips..." "So you see..." "...with plum-wine sauce and broccoli." "So..." "And eight flagons of 'Bishop's Tipple'. Gods! I hate living in the mountains!" Ingold looked up from the fallen tree he sat upon. His elbows propped on one knee, and his chin rested in cupped hands. He raised his eyebrows, waited a moment, then continued. "So, it was in Parsus city. Ever had one anywhere else?" "No." "So, we have a big red fish that bites the fingers off fishermen and has to be caught in triple-ply horse-hair nets." "How do you know all this stuff?" Gartus grumbled, "And why?" "I played to the fishermen at the summer villages along the Parsus River. Anyhow – where do you think they get the biggest reddest redfish?" "Where?" asked Gartus. "Where the Parsus River is fed by a smaller river that escapes from under the Rock. The boldest fishermen take their boats into the caves that run under the Rock there." Ingold paused, studied Gartus, then continued. "You've been to the Blooding five times. I seem to recall crossing a bridge, shortly after getting to the bottom of the shaft?" Gartus nodded. Ingold pursed his lips, then stood, brushing bits of wet bark from his cloak. "So let's go," he said. "Where?" Ingold pinched his brow and with great restraint sat back down. "The redfish you like, to eat, so much – they swim from the river you cross on the way to the Blood Chamber. They're big red bastards for the same reason you're a big red bastard. Hell, for all I know, you taste just as good with parsnips and a plum-wine sauce." He shook the idea from his head. "We can avoid fighting Handelf's army, and everyone else on the Rock, if we find a way to follow that underground river up from its confluence with the Parsus." A pause and then he stood. "Can we go now?" "We can go," said Gartus. - Mark Lawrence, "Blood of the Red"

[uneasylisteningradio]

Playlist for April 6, 2019: Months

Avril, by Alphonse Mucha Unfortunately due to technical difficulties, this week’s show was not recorded. I might try to recreate it at some point but... I also might not. This show felt very different from what i usually do and I actually said on air that I was excited to listen to it and see how it came out (I never know til I listen!) so I am bummed! But you can look at the playlist and imagine what it sounds like! Especial thanks to the commenters of the Song Bar who helped immeasurably with song selection! Playlist: Bay City Rollers - Saturday Night (Uneasy Listening theme song) Steve Clayton and Gail Contini - Twelve Months

DJ speaks over Prince Buster (Rico Rodriguez) - August 1962 Chrysalis - April Grove The Fall - Hot Runes Antonio Carlos Jobim & Elis Regina - Aguas de Marco Johnnie Taylor - It's September

 DJ speaks over Mulatu Astatke - Yekatit

Blue Oyster Cult - Then Came the Last Days in May Chris and Cosey - October (Love Song) Uriah Heep - July Morning DJ speaks over Willie Colon - Junio 73

T.S. Eliot - The Waste Land (excerpt) Jesus and Mary Chain - April Skies The Kinks - Rainy Day in June 9:30 Fly - September Parsnip - Winter The Chills - February

 DJ speaks over Slant 6 - March 6 The Cryan Shames - July Teenage Fanclub - December Allan Sherman - God Bless You Jerry Mendelbaum Ruth Etting - March Winds and April Showers Big Star - September Gurls Johnny Vomit and the Dry Heaves - Black September The Smoke - October Country Big View - August Grass Merrill Clark - If We Make It Through December

 DJ speaks over Ui - August Song

Pilot - January 

Oktober-Klub - Oktober-Song Peter Fonda - November Night The Carter Family - March Winds Goin' to Blow My Blues All Away The Go-Betweens - Wait Until June

DJ speaks over Vital Information - The 13th Month Simon and Garfunkel - April, Come She Will Vashti Bunyan - Rose Hip November Group Inerane - Awal September The Rose Garden - February Sunshine Bert Jansch - The January Man 

DJ speaks over Matching Mole - March Ides I Wire - A Mutual Friend Transistor Sister Playlist: Freddy "Boom Boom" Cannon - Transistor Sister Nilsson - Daybreak

DJ speaks over X-Ray Spex - Warrior in Woolworth's (demo) Gotterflies - Tumour Anarka and Poppy - P.O.P.P.I.E.S. Buke and Gase - Pink Boots Redd Kross - Burnout Bing Selfish- Spanish Dictators 1983

 Eater - Thinkin' of the USA The Sick - It's Never Too Late Crack Cloud - Philosopher's Calling The Bastards - Impossibilities Captain Beefheart - Tropical Hot Dog Night HS Art - Jag Vill Inte

The Real Kids - Reggae Reggae Stiff Little Fingers - Suspect Device Dark Blue - She Loves Me Medium Medium - Freeze

The Free Design - One by One

[transboygenius]

SE4SON: Chapter 13

[*Behind the closed doors of a domestic castle*]

A large man, in a large room, sat on his comfy throne, accompanied by his two royal guards. He was 220 pounds, hair was bleached blond, and his skin was pasty fair. This man wore a crown, and long drapes, decorated in expensive gems. The room was ornamented with fancy pottery, huge fantasy paintings, pelts made from wild animals, and a red carpet.

"Your greatness?"

The royal cook entered the room. She was pushing a cart, holding a silver serving dish, with a lid. The guards were a bit surprised by her sudden appearance, so they raised their spears a bit. The king then called off their weapons. As the dish was pushed right in front of the king, the cook removed the lid to reveal his supper.

"Today's menu, dear lord: Stuffed roasted peacock, butter poached parsnips, umble pie, and a selection of your kingdom's finest brandy. Bon appétit."

The king chuckled in delight, for he was vanished. He took the napkin and wrapped it around his neck. Just as he was about to dig his fork and knife into the fowl, a deep voice entered the room, much to the king's annoyance. It was the king's chancellor, Richard.

"What might be for you to waltz in here AND DISTURB ME DURING MY MEALTIME?!" Shouted the king. "Uh, my apologies for the sudden disturbance, sire. Just thought I'd let you know... *Ahem* I thee bring a report to file!" Said Richard. "Hmmm? A report, eh? Well, it better be worth letting my dinner get cold!!" "You see, it appears a protest has broke out among the middle class citizens in the village!" "A protest?!" "Yes, indeed! They are demanding that we lower the estimates on certain needed essentials such as food, healthcare, and home mortgage, and they refuse to negotiate peace or silence until they get it!" "Any clue who started the protest?" "Yes, sire! It was a couple, in their early thirties, by the names Joseph and Sadie Philip!" "Hmmmm...."

The king walked off his throne.

"Send in some of my most skilled, noble knights to break up the crowds! They sure as hell won't try to pull a stunt like that ever again! Not as long as they take my word for it!" "And the Phillips, sire?" "Gather as much citizens you can rally! We will be arranging a ceremony for their hanging!" "I think that's a little far fetched. Can't we simply just, throw them into the dungeon? We never used-" "I AM THE RULER OF THIS ESTABLISHMENT, AND WHAT I SAY, GOES! Okay? Unless you wanna arrange for a triple hanging!" "No, no sire! That was just an opinion! An unpopular opinion! My opinion is not important, oh superior monarch!"

Suddenly, a collapse sound was heard. The king turned around, and saw that one of his royal guards had passed out over his food.

"What is the meaning of this tomfoolery?!" Barked the king. "You see, your greatness, he had just fallen after a small bite from your meal. But, uh, he was just trying to taste test it in your honor! ...your greatness." Replied one of the guards.

Richard then decided to examine the unconscious body.

"He's dead, sire."

That one guard began to cry. That other guard was more than just a friend, but a brother. This could only mean one thing.

"Sooooooooooooooooooooooo... An attempt to poison the king!" Said the king. "I don't know what you're talking about, your greatness! He just... Maybe he was just allergic to the herbs I seasoned the bird with!" The cook tried to defend herself. "Looks like there will be a triple hanging after all. Take her away!"

The one guard carried the chef away, dragging her off her feet. She started kicking and screaming, trying to break free of the man's grip. She wanted to be the hero, and now she is facing the agony of defeat. All that work she planned to overthrow the king, gaining his trust, now left in vain. Having no reason to act anymore, she cursed at the king, criticizing him, and even called him a tyrant, which was the last thing he heard from her.

"No peasant tries to outsmart King Jason Tremp under his nose."

..............................

[*Back at the hut*]

Jimmy, Nick, and Rodent Girl had the time of their lives. They played tag, hide 'n seek, and are now currently rat racing. All of them are pretty much too old for such juvenile games, but it's the only fun available if you're stuck in a period without technology. They don't even have any board games. Nick felt so relaxed. Games, how he used to play them, were all competitive. In sports, if a man were to lose to his rival, they'd give the him a pat on a back and call it a good game. The sports Nick gets himself into are where roles are divided between the winner or the loser. If you lose a game, people make fun of you for it, and they want you to feel bad about your defeat.

Whereas RG's games, there are no winners or losers. It's all about having fun. The first time Nick lost a game, Jimmy or RG didn't mock or ridicule him. They just congratulated him for a good game. This is what playing for fun feels like? Even when you lose, you still feel like a winner. There's no pressure in the way to push you towards that main goal, and instead it's about enjoying yourself. This all seems so new to Nick. It's satisfying because he's just letting himself run free. If he were to make up his mind about crossing over to Jimmy's three amigops, he'd probably feel this happy everyday.

For the time being, they were racing rats, with tracks drawn in the dirt. Jimmy won five games in a row, RG won two, while Nick won none, but that's okay. He doesn't really care. He's not upset at all. With all the fun he's having, why cry over spilled milk? During the game, Jimmy asked Rodent Girl what he's been meaning to ask the Faithful Five for a long time.

"So... Pardon me for being a little, inquisitive, but I'm curious about why does Diana go out of her way to steal things? Isn't stealing... You know... ...lawfully wrong?" Asked Jimmy. "And they say you're the smart one. For your information, fudgy hair, she only steals from bad guys, and the greedy, wealthy bastards who just about have enough money to make ends meet but never have enough heart to insist a starving man!" Replied Rodent Girl. "I already know that, but I'm asking why she's doing it. Are there no open positions seeking for employment?" "*Sigh* There are. We could have any job we wanted. The trouble is we don't have the privilege to get them." "What do you mean by 'privilege?'" "Oh, for Pete's sake, genius! In this village, where these four walls hold us, classes are arranged based on your image, religion, and background. In this system, majorities outweigh the minorities." "Minorities?" "Yeah. The ones that aren't conceived as 'perfect' by the king himself. The higher classes, dukes and duchess as we call them, are blessed with the easier jobs with good pay. The middle classes are stuck with the more laborious jobs for 8 shillings an hour, with no paid vacations or bonuses. Then there's us: The lower class. We get nothing, but our own pity. We are freaks to the likes of them. Diana can't get a job cuz she's not "lady-like," Benson can't get a job cuz he's been denied his manly rights, and me, you probably have the idea. Who I am is also the reason why I don't have any friends. Human friends. Di, Mitzi, and Benson don't count. They're more like my family. You can't be friends with your family. Mitzi's the quote-on-quote decent one out of all of us, which means she's the only one who has a career. Unfortunately, the pay is not enough to feed all of us together, and our economy is all up in inflation. Meat cost 5 shillings a pound. Doctors charge 4 pence a hour. Entertainment is worth gold." "Is that why Diana resorts to stealing?" "You keep asking so many questions, jeez! I thought smart people were meant to answer them!" "I'm sorry. I just wanted to get as much answers out as possible. Like, we can probably help you overcome this financial struggle if we learn the basis of the premise. Then you wouldn't have to go out stealing anymore." "I doubt you can be a big help. King Jason won't listen to anyone if it has nothing to do with his interests. Refuse to resist, and--"

Diana appeared over Rodent Girl's head, and interrupted.

"--You'll get hanged!" "HeeeeeEEEYYYY! Why is it that YOU get to say it all the time?! It's not fair!" "Sorry, Rodent. It's in my character arc!"

Jimmy and Nick noticed Diana was carrying a huge sack with her.

"What's..." Asked Jimmy. "...that?" Asked Nick. "Why, it's our dinner, of course!" Replied Diana.

The bulky woman opened the sack to reveal a big, fat, dead moose, which she killed herself. While Rodent Girl was bubbling in joy, Jimmy and Nick were dumbfounded. Moose is a least likely food any of them would think of eating. They think of them as just commonly woodland creatures. Are they ready to eat moose meat? Diana looked at the shunned Nick, and gave him a little poke. He didn't react at all.

"Looking rather squeamish there. Don't worry, I'll handle the butchering! Getting quenched in the blood of an animal is the closest thing I'll ever have to fighting in a gladiator war!"

...........................

That night, everyone feasted on moose. Nick prepared moose steaks, moose roast, moose kebabs, moose stew, cheesy minced moose pies, moose franks, deep fried moose entrails, and white rice, which he requested the other day. Despite Jimmy's disgust earlier, he found that the animal tasted good, to his surprise. Or maybe that's just Nick's culinary magic. Rodent Girl made a glutton of herself. Benson took time to savor his dinner. Mitzi ate hers in a simple, mild-manner, again not showing appreciation for Nick's hard work. Butterscotch, who was left with his oats, watched them in envy. While everyone ate, Diana told her stories at the table. Because of how much moose they had, there will practically be leftovers tomorrow, and the day after that.

After dinner was done, it was time to wash up and call it a night. Nick was so exhausted from all that cooking, he made Butterscotch carry him on his back as they headed to their barn suite. Nick is ready to pass out the second he lays down on that hay bed. The three entered the barn. As Nick began to climb off of Butterscotch, he sloppily fell due to how tired he was.

"Are you okay?" Asked Jimmy, helping his friend up. "Yeah, I'm fine." Nick replied, dusting himself off.

The boys crawled under their blankets, and then rested their heads on their pillows. Before they were ready to go beddy-bye, they shared a short convo among each other.

"How do you suppose we're gonna talk the king into getting our new friends jobs? ...and ending his own capitalism? This Jason guy sure sounds like a tough nut to crack. Look at all the consequences to list that will get us all..." Said Nick, and then imitated a victim getting hanged. "Like some dumb king is gonna scare me. Judging from what I've heard so far from Diana, he may be all power, but he certainly doesn't sound so smart." Replied Jimmy. "He may be really ugly, too." "Simple-minded folks can be easily outwitted by the charm of psychology. A long chat with him could buy us the time to figure out what makes him tick, and when we have reached his standards, that's how we will be able to compromise with him. As the old saying goes, 'you can't catch some fish without a few good worms.'"

When Jimmy turned to face Nick, he found he was already deep asleep. The boy genius just shrugged, made himself more comfy, and then blew out the candle to his left. As the room was now left in darkness, Jimmy passed on a "Goodnight" to Nick.

Meanwhile, peeking from out the window, Mitzi stared at the barn across. Earlier, when she just arrived from work, she recalled Jimmy asking Rodent Girl some questions, followed by a "I just wanted to get as much answers out as possible." To her, that sounded like a big red flag there. What are these two trying to plan? Whatever they're planning, she's not gonna wait to find out what it is. She must put a stop to it, and protect the family before her. Mitzi then ran outside to the shed, where she then fetched herself a weapon.

..........................

During that hour, where the sun was beginning to rise, Nick shook Jimmy awake from his much needed slumber.

"Jimmy! Jimmy! There's something you ought to look at!" "Nnnnick... Do you know what time it is?" "Well, no, considering that I don't have a watch, but it's urgent, I swear! When I went outside to... ...pass some water... ...that's when I encountered it! C'mon!" "I'd be more happier if you just told me. The real surprise can wait, once I'm fully recharged. And I don't need to know about your bodily functions." "Dammit, our time machine is busted!" "WHAT?!"

Jimmy's loud "WHAT" woke up every animal in the barn. The boy genius shot himself out of bed, and let Nick lead him to the disaster he's been trying to point out. There they found their time machine, now nothing but a pile of debris. But, how could this happen? The damage was too brutal to be caused by an accident. A wreck like this could only happen on purpose.

Suddenly, Diana and Rodent Girl just happened to step outside of the hut in their nightgowns. The animals weren't the only thing Jimmy's shouting woken up. Diana immediately gained back her energy when she saw the wreckage. Rodent Girl was still feeling drowsy.

"Holly Hannah! What happened?" Ask Diana. "Time Machine broke." Jimmy replied immaturely. "And what we know by far is that this was no accident!" Said Nick. "Hmmmmmmmmmm."

Diana observed the debris further.

"Any strange weather occur?" Asked Diana. "No." "Spot any ferocious animals lately?" "Just some rats, but I doubt little creatures could do damage that bad." "Any... Any... Welp, I'm out of questions. Looks like one of us is... ....a suspect!" "Don't worry, no you're not. I think I may know who did it." "You do? Who? It isn't me, right? It can't be me, because I have morals, I'm sweet, I'm lovable, and... I've been a very good friend to you two! *sob* Where has that friendship gone?" "Calm down. Of course it's not you." "*Deep yawn* Then is it me? How dare you accuse me. Did what we had yesterday mean nothing to you?" Rodent Girl said in a tired, monotone voice. "No. Not you either."

Jimmy turned to Nick besides him. It is easy to make sense of who's behind the wreckage. There's only one member of the Faithful Five who doesn't like Jimmy and Nick very much since they first met. Who else other than that deceptive Mitzi dame? The boys were so careless as to not look after her, even though they knew something like this would happen eventually. Nick won't tell Diana who did it, for obvious reasons; If she gets mad at Mitzi, then there goes their friendship. If she gets mad at Nick, she'll crush him flatter than a crepe. Maybe when Mitzi gets home, Nick oughta give her a cozy little chat.

"Who do you think did it?" Asked Diana? "Sorry, I'm not one to give out spoilers." Replied Nick. "Huh?"

Jimmy and Nick began to pick up the bits of debris, when Diana suddenly stopped them. And she was already dressed in her morning clothes.

"HOLD IT! You gentlemen have been very nice to us. Not just me, but to us. You two even kept us well fed. In return, I will assist you in repairing your wooden thing-a-ma-gigy that's suppose to take you back home!" "No, we can't possibly have you--" Said Jimmy, before being cut off. "But I insist! Friends must help each other in need! And I'm not doing this just because I don't want to be the branded suspect in this caper!" "I'll lend a hand as well. Just let me go fetch my coffee." Said Rodent Girl, heading back inside the house. "Hmmm, a little extra hands might finish the job more faster." "I'll help too! As always." Said Nick. "No, Nick. I think you should relax for a bit and save your strength. You've done so much." "But I--" "Please, you helped enough already. Take a break. You need to slow down on all these good deeds."

Nick figured, he wants to help Jimmy, but the boy genius sounds like he'd be happier if he just stopped for now. To avoid turning this conversation into an argument, Nick decided to follow the doctor's orders. The purpose why Nick is smothering his crush with so many good deeds is because he wants to prove he is worthy to be by his side. In the old times, Nick stayed out of Jimmy's way for too long, and let that Vortex girl get to him. Back then, Nick always had a chance, but he always ended up blowing it.

Rodent Girl reappeared, all dressed and fully energized.

"READY!"

Diana was thinking of waking up Benson and letting him join in on the party, but he can be in a naggy mood whenever he's awakened before his "wakey-wakey schedule." Mitzi was nowhere to be found. She must have already left for work. The bulky woman headed into the shed to fetch some tools. When she got there, she noticed that a sledgehammer was misplaced. How odd. After she organized the sledgehammer back in its proper position, she grabbed some tools, tacks, and a bucket of super paste. She refused to use anymore of her wooden planks. Diana then brought the supplies to Jimmy. Butterscotch arrived to the scene, holding a hammer in his mouth.

"Sorry, Butterscotch, but this line of work requires posable digits!"

.............................

Nick sat inside the barn, thinking. Jimmy told him that enough is enough, but it just makes the handsome boy feel guilty for not having to help the boy genius. Nick doesn't just shower Jimmy with these good deeds because he loves him so much, but he's also trying to make up for the times he wasn't there for him. He didn't offer him a helping hand even if it were an easy task. All he's ever done was watch the disastrous events occur before his eyes, not to mention stay out of any trouble Jimmy would get himself into. And, Nick wasn't there when the boy genius felt lonely at least.

Refusing to swallow his pride, Nick won't allow himself to let Jimmy down. He will do whatever he can to make that boy genius proud. He will continue to show his loyalty, and let Jimmy know he can always depend on him whenever the going gets tough. Nick looked over to Jimmy's sketch designs, which then gave the skateboard boy an idea.

He exited the barn and went over to Diana.

"Yo Di, could you step inside the hut with me for a moment? There's this ugly, big cockroach under the kitchen table!" "A roach? IN MY HOME?!"

Diana stormed into the hut with her sword, only to find no roach under the table.

"You can run from me, you little nuisance, but there's nowhere on Earth you can hide!" "Relax, there is no roach." "Ther- What kind of game are you trying to play-" "Shhh, shhhh shhhhh! Keep your voice down." "Why are we talking softly? This really is a game, is it?" "Listen, long story short; I want to help my friend, but my friend doesn't want me to. However, I deciding to do it anyways. This time I plan to surprise him, which means you can't mum a word of this to him, or anyone you can't trust secrets with." "*Gasp* Disobeying a direct order, all for the sake of helping someone you care so much about?! I swear, you're like the son I could've had!" "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" "Sorry. I tend to get a little loud whenever I'm filled with joy. I just like to let myself out." "Can we get back on the topic? I need to get into that mine." "Getting in there isn't gonna be easy, my boy. Unless you're an authority of the king or carry any legal documents, you'll get hang-" "Jimmy already told me, I know. That's why I turned to you, since you seem like an expert at getting away with breaking the law. The way you scared off those hooded men... I think I know how I'll be able to sneak into the mine without being suspected." "You want me to distract the Keeper of the Mine?" "No, I was wondering if you can make me a disguise of my own, along with a copy of one of those fabricated badges." "I can do that! Luckily I still hold this old Halloween costume Rodent Girl used to wear when she was your age."

Diana pulled out a miniature suit of knight's armor from behind her back. Nick, without removing any of his clothes, slipped into the armor one piece at a time. The suit wasn't made from plastic, but legit, real, steel metal. It was fairly uncomfortable from the inside, and a horrible order pierced through his nostrils. He also had some trouble keeping balance in the suit. It took Nick at least two minutes to stand up straight again.

"As for the badges, I don't have enough time to make a copy, so you can borrow mine for now." "Thanks." "Oh!"

Diana left the hut for a moment. Nick tripped in his armor once more, before bringing himself back to his feet. When Diana returned, she had brought along Butterscotch.

"We don't exactly own a map of the outside world, so Butterscotch knows where the mine is located."

The white stallion happily nodded his head. Butterscotch wasn't the only thing Diana brought back, though. She began handing Nick a few things she thought he'd need.

"Here's a small box to hold your quartz in. Here's a tiny sack to hold the box where you'll be holding your quartz in. Here's an apple for energy. Here's a lantern, since it's gonna be dark in there. Here's a dagger for self-defense. It's pretty dull, but you can keep poking someone until they run away. Here's some extra fuel for the lantern. Here's a few carrots in case Butterscotch gets hungry. Here's a checkerboard set if Butterscotch ever gets bored. And here's a satchel to carry all your stuff in, since the suit doesn't include any pockets."

With all that gear he was holding, combined with the weight of the armor, Nick toppled backwards.

"Again; Thanks."

After Nick placed everything into the satchel, Diana helped him out by picking him up, and placing him on top of Butterscotch's back. Giving a salute to the young boy, who's about to journey off on his own for the first time, Diana then opened the hatch in the kitchen and let the two out. Nick saluted back, before Diana closed it again.

"Godspeed to you, Nick Dean."