waywardstoryenthusiast

[waywardstoryenthusiast]

Tiny moorhen chick having its first little swim! 

[waywardstoryenthusiast]

[waywardstoryenthusiast]

I’ve started playing dnd again and the campaign I’m in has the pitch that we all must be characters from written works. The plot is we got thrown out of our own stories and must find our way back.

I am Hamlet, a warlock who made a pact with his Dad’s ghost (it’s absolutely his Dad’s ghost, he wasn’t tricked at all, ignore the fiend patron type) to get revenge on his Uncle. But this post isn’t about him.

Because our cleric, the one entrusted with keeping the party full of heals, the only person with healing magic, is House MD.

“Wait Iz!” You cry. “House MD is a television show, not written fiction.” You’d be correct. Which is why our cleric House is not from the television show.

He’s from a fan fiction.

It’s as funny as it sounds.

[waywardstoryenthusiast]

the biggest secret that Big Fanfic doesn't want you to know is that the best way to find fics you'll enjoy is to scroll through the bookmarks of a fic written by an author you already like. people gravitate toward fics written in similar styles, etc that they enjoy. so if someone's read your favorite author, chances are they've read fics that are similar to those written by your favorite author. if i get killed by Big Wattpad we'll know why

[waywardstoryenthusiast]

I love the old timey phrase "you forget yourself". bro that was so impolite like do you even know who you are rn

[waywardstoryenthusiast]

i'm fighting for my soup out here, lads

[waywardstoryenthusiast]

[waywardstoryenthusiast]

nobody tweets like hozier...I love him so much

[waywardstoryenthusiast]

People act like voice training is unnatural or meant as a “trick” and then I get to sit in my office and listen to every single one of my cis coworkers change their pitch of their voice up or down whenever they’re on the phone

[waywardstoryenthusiast]

doodling a bunny vs doodling a hare

[waywardstoryenthusiast]

[waywardstoryenthusiast]

portrait commission for @jackiecoyote !

[waywardstoryenthusiast]

commission for @villanevehaus !

[waywardstoryenthusiast]

There was this park near where I grew up. I remember we’d just moved to the area so I was around six and we drove past and saw this waterfront area. My parents decided to check it out so we went for a walk. It was a lovely park, there’s a lazy slough, lots of trees, extremely picturesque. My parents ambled along the trail enjoying the nature while my siblings and I ranged around in their orbit like excitable moons.

Then I saw something odd. Something vibrantly alive down by the water that was entirely the wrong color. I called back my vital scouting info and my family gathered around me. We looked down the steep verge toward the slough, screened by underbrush. We couldn’t quite make out what it was. The only thing we could agree was that it certainly wasn’t a duck. However it was about duck sized and roughly duck shaped. It just wasn’t a duck.

This led to some heated debate amongst my siblings and I but we were forbidden to scramble down the muddy hill to harass the mystery animal. Reluctantly we continued down the trail, speculating wildly when a chicken popped out of a bush in front of us with a train of several chicks.

We froze. The chicken did not. She placidly herded her little puffs across the trail, pecking happily for seeds, unbothered by our proximity. My family had not yet delved into farming and this was the first time any of us kids had seen a chicken up close. It was like a fairytale thing, a creature we had seen over and over in books was suddenly here in the wilderness of the park. We all realized the mystery creature had likewise been a chicken.

Another couple came up the trail and saw us staring.

“Is this your first time at the park?” They asked?

We nodded.

They informed us that this park had become a dumping ground for unwanted chickens. Once the chickens were dumped they were park property and the locals didn’t mind the eccentric additions at all. No one looked after the chickens, but they got on surprisingly well.

As the years went by we visited the park regularly. Signs were added to warn people not to dump off chickens or they’d be fined. They were also excluded from snatching the existing chickens. The hope was that the chickens would eventually run their course and the park would go back to normal.

It did not.

Instead the menagerie grew. Peacocks cropped up occasionally, turkeys; and one visit we saw guinea fowl. But there were always chickens. Eventually feed dispenser were installed so park goers could pay a quarter to enjoy the motley flocks.

Because we’d moved into a house with land my mom started up a chicken coop and we got our very own chickens at the feed store like proper folks. The first rooster we had was a gentleman, politely clucking at us when came into the coop, but the second proved troublesome a year later. He either adored or hated me. Every time I entered the coop he’d dance and flounce and brandish his spurs.

My mom didn’t want to off him frankly she didn’t know how at that point but his fascination ended with him flying at me and the rooster was sentenced to banishment.

We drove to the park.

We saw him there for years afterward, clucking dutifully around a small flock of hens. He did pretty well in exile.

Anyone who’s kept chickens knows that eventually there’s always a tragedy. Ours happened when a neighbors dog broke into our coop and slaughtered the flock. I was absolutely distraught, my lovingly hand reared chicks all decimated in a flurry of senseless bloodlust. I have not loved a chicken since. They are too fragile to bear it.

After a few days of mourning my mom offered that she knew where to find some more chickens. To make up for the massacre she planned a night raid with us. We stayed up past our bedtime and drove to the park with tarp covered kennels in the back of the truck.

We crept down along the gravel parking lot, looking up into the trees, spotting the telltale lumps of shadows that meant chickens. We quickly developed a strategy. We picked a chicken branch, creeping close underneath. Then we reached the end of the branch and gave it a good shake until the roosting chicken glided down to the ground in confusion. It was easy to scoop them up and we went home the proud new owner of a handsome flock of chickens.

The Take a Chicken Leave a Chicken park is still a beloved feature of its neighborhood to this day.

[waywardstoryenthusiast]

Tide Pool 🪸🐠 Colored ink illustration for the month of August for the upcoming 2025 calendar! Preorders are now available!

[waywardstoryenthusiast]

babies :)

[waywardstoryenthusiast]

The fox & crow are back! Stargazer pals!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

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