#a witch that protects chickens from predators

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Since ive been playing Stardew again, mainly thanks to Stardew Expanded, and have been on a Stardew kick in general:

How would the different villagers (base game, no mod villagers, with maybe the inclusion of Marlon, Gunther, Krobus and the dwarf maybe?) react to a cottagecore (actual) witch (wizard, spellcaster, whatever you wanna call this version of the farmer) who, while making artisan goods like jellies and mead, also makes potions and enchanted knick knacks that help people too?

Hewwo :D

As you can see, dear anon, I got rather... carried away with the question, so I apologize for the long reply. I hope you enjoy it, and thanks again for the ask! 💕

SDV townies react to the cottagecore wizard/witch!Farmer who, in addition to artisan goods, makes potions and enchants trinkets:

_________________________________________

Shane doesn't mind the home-brewed beer and hot peppers from the garden that the Farmer regularly treats him to, but doesn't need to be told about the trinkets and stinky herbal concoctions and other weird stuff. The chicken lover doesn't believe in that (even though he's facing a real wizard/witch), and he has pills for his hangover.

No matter how hard Marlon tried to talk the Farmer out of it and explain that they didn't owe him anything for his help (a.k.a. "how once again Marlon had delivered the unconscious Farmer home"), but the new member of the Adventurers' Guild was stubborn and left on Marlon's table a dozen life elixirs that they had brewed themselves, as well as a whole basket of fresh apples. Well, it was rude to refuse, but the old adventurer still wanted the Farmer to be careful in the Mines next time.

A good luck bracelet? Ha! Thanks, Farmer, but Alex doesn't need one. He's a real sports star (not yet recognized, but soon!), and he relies solely on his talents and muscles. Although, if an athlete knows Farmer very well, he won't turn down a bracelet. Although he's not superstitious, a gift from a friend as a token of attention really touched him. Not that he'll admit it out loud, of course.

"Will I be able to fly?! Or talk to animals? Will I be able to talk to trees too? Will I turn into a dinosaur? Or invisible? I'd like to become an invisible dinosaur!" Yeah, I guess it wasn't such a good idea for the Farmer to announce to Vincent that they were brewing potions in addition to farming. Who knew the boy would be so intrigued by the Farmer's activities, after all, where else would you see a Farmer who could not only make cheese, but also do magic things?

Jas is a pretty smart girl, and quickly guessed about Farmer's unusual talents. She promised to keep it a secret.... If the Farmer promised to show her those unusual black chickens. Given that the farm is not far from her aunt's ranch, Jas often comes to visit the hospitable Farmer, just to watch them conjure or make cheese. And for black chickens. So cute!

To be honest, Marnie is a little... confused. She doesn't really believe in magic and all, but one event has made her reconsider. The Farmer recently gave her an totem that they say protects her lovely chickens from forest predators (poor Marnie is still grieving over hen Matilda, who was stolen by a fox). Now foxes approaching the coop howl, as if wounded, when they see the totem and run away. A coincidence, or does the totem really work?

"Ah, fellow craftsman! Glad to see that the practice of the arts of alchemy and enchantment is still not extinct." Wizard knew from the beginning that Farmer was connected with the magical world, but even for him it was a surprise that the young talent could cast complex spells and brew potions. And most importantly, help the locals (well, or at least not harm anyone). Hm, he was just looking for an apprentice, and Farmer would be perfect candidate...

Leah isn't much into elixirs and talismans, but when the red-haired girl fell ill, the Farmers were the first to help and gave her some funny-smelling potions that made her feel better instantly. They also treated Leah to some homemade goat cheese and fruits. Witch or not, Leah was glad to have such a caring friend and promised herself to do something for the Farmer in return.

Even though Demetrius had no desire to offend or insult the Farmer in any way, the scientist will look very sceptical at the amulet the Farmer offers him for protection against evil spirits. And for all the spells that the Farmer shows, desperately trying to prove to Demetrius that they are real spellcasters, he will wave his hand, saying that it is all scientifically explainable. Farmer is levitating, the hell you mean scientifically explainable?!

Clint wanted to ask something about a love potion, but quickly silenced himself before the Farmer could hear anything. It would hardly be true love if you put that magic stuff in there.... What?! No, he didn't mean anyone in particular, they heard nothing! In general, the blacksmith doesn't care if the Farmer grows strawberries, enchants bracelets or practises fortune-telling.

Abigail has become a very frequent visitor to the farm. The violet-haired girl sometimes likes to sit in the Farmer's kitchen, helping or watching them make blueberry jam or pickled tomatoes. But most of all she is interested in watching them brew potions or just the way the spoons stir themselves thanks to magic. Abigail will also ask them to make her a elixirs taster ("Pretty please!").

Perhaps Lewis would have just politely ignored the Farmer's statement that they were a wizard and that they would be happy to help him and the people of the Valley with potions, but still the Pelican Town Mayor decided to try his luck and ask the Farmer one specific question. Hmm? Why did Lewis need a stamina potion? Erm, well, Lewis wanted to start doing, er... exercise, and- Never mind, forget what he just said, Farmer.

You know that look on some parents' faces when their little child hands them a craft made of dirt or leaves, and the adults try to squeeze out a smile and say what an interesting thing their kid made? That's what was on Jodi's face when Farmer gave her the gift with a proud smile. Thank you so much for the fresh vegetables, Farmer, and, umm.... What's with the skull pendant with the glowing eyes? "Luck pendant? Ahahaha, how nice, thank you!" (Jodi dies inside).

A small woven basket, containing some fruit or goodies, and a small vial of purple liquid.... Almost everyone in the Valley had received a gift from the unusual Farmer, and Robin was no exception. The carpenter doesn't know what's up with the "potion to cure diseases", but she's just glad that the Farmer has fit into their little community so quickly and takes care of everyone like family. Robin smiles genuinely and is already on her way home with peaches given by the Farmer to treat her husband and her children.

One day Haley is sure to drop by the Farmer's to visit and ask them to let her have a photo session of their farm. Because this place is sure to be a winner in Zuzu City's "All About the Country life" photo contest! Plus, the blonde-haired girl discovered the delights of rural life, and the Farmer themself turned out to be a very interesting person. But Haley can't stand the smell of the cauldron. Why would the Farmer have a cauldron in his kitchen?

For about an hour now, poor Maru has been racking her brains and searching medical books and scientific articles for any information about the ingredients that the Farmers, as they themselves claim, put in the "potion". It's phenomenal - a liquid that instantly cured Maru's burn on her arm! (the result of a failed experiment). Poor Farmer only wanted to bring the young inventor the cure and fresh strawberries, but ended up being showered with a mountain of questions from a exited Maru. "Magic? Witches and wizards? Nonsense!"

Kent had been standing by the front door of the farmhouse for some more than ten minutes now, keeping his eyes fixed on the broom that was brushing the porch steps by itself. Either his nightmares had made him crazy, or those pickled mushrooms the Farmer had treated the military man with (and given several jars of mushrooms as a treat to his family) were laced with some sort of hallucinogen. Farmer stepped out onto the porch. "Ah, I can use magic to make a broom sweep!" Apparently it was the mushrooms after all, Kent thought.

Did someone say pendants with stones that have magical properties? Or dreamcatchers? Then Emily's on her way! Nothing brings the blue-haired girl more joy than discussions about amethyst, that ability to enhance the wearer's intuition, or the positive emotion-filled bracelets she's made for her friends. Granted Emily has a slightly different field (and Farmer's pendants are enchanted for real), but she would be the one closest to Farmer's interest in making trinkets of all sorts to help others.

Oh, Gus knows well that if he needs the best quality produce for his meals, the owner of the Saloon can ask the hard-working and kind Farmer for help. Admittedly, at times he is a bit taken aback when the Farmer still offers him unfamiliar herbs and products that they have made themselves. "Moon salt", what is that? Seems edible, even delicious! Definitely going into his escargot.

"That's the ugliest thing I've ever seen in my life." Whoa, Pam, you don't have to be that blunt with the person you're getting a gift from. Yes, the bracelet may not have the most adorable look, but the Farmer is a spellcaster with experience, and this trinket will help bring Pam happiness, wealth, and- "Thanks for the mead and the parsnips, kiddo, but I'm not taking this creepy bracelet." Pam, don't be rude to the Farmer, where's your manners and gratitude?

Yoba, Harvey tries to be polite and patient, but he can't stay away when he sees Farmer offering other residents elixirs that, they say, will "instantly cure illnesses"??? He is a doctor, and has devoted years at university to curing people, while Farmer is engaging in, pardon his harsh words, quackery?! However, when the doctor is convinced that Farmer is a real wizard/witch, he quickly apologizes and goes into a crisis. Someone give this man a glass of wine or Harvey is about to freak out.

Oh, no, no, no, no! Pierre had already made a mistake once in his youth when he bought a "talisman that brings wealth and good luck" from a stranger who claimed to be a sorceress, but it turned out to be just a cheap glass craft. So he had to create wealth with his bare hands. The shopkeeper would refuse all the amulets offered by the Farmer, and the strange elixirs too. But to buy their homemade strawberry wine of iridium quality is always welcome!

When the Farmer had just arrived in Stardew Valley, Willy had once told them that he had an amulet against all sorts of misfortunes, which he had had to sell because the money was almost gone. The old sailor had already had time to regret it, but you can't bring back the past. Farmer remembered this moment, and out of kindness made a real sea amulet for Willy. And unlike the old one, this will definitely protect him from treacherous sirens or huge deep-sea monsters while fishing.

"So enchanting objects for each other is normal for humans?" Krobus had thought that only the Wizard had knowledge of the forgotten arts, but it seemed he had missed some details when he had studied the lives of the local people of Pelican Town. People usually don't do that? Oh, alright..

The amulet that Sebastian received as a gift from the Farmer looks so cool and creepy that Sebby has started wearing it with his everyday clothes. True, the young man was a little distrustful of the Farmer's words about the "enchantment" of this trinket. He was interested in all sorts of occult things, but was not sure about the magic. Farmer, in order to prove their words, gave him another "frog magnet" talisman. The next day, by Sebastian's surprised face and a dozen frogs jumping after him, it was clear that the local emo definitely believed now.

An enchanted pendant that allows you to see artifacts hidden from human eyes... That explains how the Farmers were able to find and provide Gunther with such rare specimens of forgotten civilizations. Did they make such an amulet themselves? Amazing! What? An amulet for him? Thank you very much, Farmer. Now together, the two of them can not only restore the local museum to its former glory, but also make it even better!

Penny doesn't know what the little bottle of liquid the Farmer gave her, but her flu is gone in just an hour after she empties the contents of the bottle. Thank you so much, Farmer, for helping the young teacher by giving her this medicine. "My pleasure, the elixir of healing diseases isn't that hard to make, the main thing is not to overdo it with the wolfsbane." "W- what?...." Penny didn't have time to ask again, as the Farmer handed her a basket of oranges and wished her good health, running off on their own.

Linus had time to show the young mage (yes, it's no secret to him that they have a magical gift) all the secret places to pick unusual berries and mushrooms. Because he knows that the Farmer will definitely use it in brewing elixirs to help people, and that can't help but please the good-hearted wild man. Plus, he has to say thank you somehow for that wonderful blueberry pie.

From the Farmer's window there is almost always the smell of delicious baked goods or the pleasant scent of flowers, and Sam, without noticing it himself, has begun to walk past the farm often. The young guitarist doesn't need to be told twice when he's invited for pie or maple donuts. Farmer is always happy to have guests, especially if the guests decide to brighten up their mornings with a beautiful music. "What's brewing in the pot?" "Elixir of immortality." "Cool. Wait, what...?"

"These leaves give the tea a rather unusual flavor. And I think I'm beginning to see... flowers in my eyes. Dear Farmer, are you sure you've worked the tea leaves properly?" Caroline, your tea made the Farmer's eyes see a white little man dancing on the edge of your mug. So don't go blabbing about the Farmer's homemade tea. They certainly know the basics of herbology and alchemy, and know how to brew the most complex elixirs. So don't even-

Given Dwarf's suspiciousness, they didn't take any medallions or elixirs from the Farmer at first, because it could have turned out to be a devious plan by the shadow people. What if there's poison in the bottle? Or the medallion reveals their location to the enemy? It takes a long time before they can trust the Farmer, and later they have something of a bartering relationship with potions (the Farmer gives Dwarf elixirs out of the goodness of his heart, but Dwarf insists that the Farmer needs to get something of equal value in return).

Hmm! Why would George want this useless trinket, even if it was free? So they could sit on a shelf and gather dust? Farmer, he doesn't believe in all that focus-pocus, so he doesn't need those strange and ugly bracelets and amulets that also smell weird. A spellcaster? Don't be absurd.

Farmers were so kind to come and visit, and they also brought some goodies: ripe berries, homemade cottage cheese... And they even brought George some ointment for his bad knees, how nice of them! And though it's not clear if Evelyn believes the ointment is magical, and if she knows that Farmers can cast spells and communicate with animals. The granny is just glad that such a kind and caring young person came to their house, and without cookies, which just had time to cool down, Evelyn will not let them go.

A lonely, city-weary man who had been hiding their magical talent was finally able to escape the suffocating clutches of a mega corporation to drop everything and move to the middle of nowhere where they could find their happiness and calling... Yes, Elliott is definitely sure that this would be the perfect story for his new novella. The writer was so taken by his own muse that he wasn't even surprised by the fact that the Farmers, in addition to caring for crops and livestock, can do magic and brew elixirs. Novella now, questions later!

Morris has absolutely no time for nonsense, why did the Farmer give him some strange liquid in a bottle? A cure for back pain? Very funny, but he wasn't born yesterday to believe that nonsense. Except that Farmer's curiosity and puppy eyes made Joja's manager take a sip.... And no more back pain! Hmm, interesting... Farmer, how about a contract to sell this miracle liquid?

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Note: I hope I didn't deviate from the main question because I couldn't decide if the people of Stardew Valley believe the farmer is a wizard/sorcerer/witch by default, or if some know and some don't? And how are talismans and potions even viewed from their perspective (Shane, at least, doesn't believe in magic, judging by the canon quotes). I'm open to feedback! 😃

#sdv #stardew valley #sdv headcanons #sdv marlon #sdv wizard #sdv pierre #sdv harvey #sdv shane #sdv kent #sdv haley #sdv leah #sdv demetrius #sdv abigail #sdv lewis #sdv gus #sdv gunther #sdv jas #sdv vincent #sdv sam #sdv marnie #sdv caroline #sdv clint #sdv community #thanks for the ask! #sdv george #sdv evelyn #sdv maru #sdv alex #sdv morris #cannot tag everyone 😭

[evolutiononthebrain]

A harbringer of death, a witch with something wicked inside, and a kidnapped watcher — the perfect combination of siblings, yeah?

Cursed Trio / Cursed Siblings HCs!

- Grian oldest, pearl middle, & Jimmy youngest ?

-> Grian being the older sibling whose supposed to be responsible but is just so not is too funny to pass up

- they don’t have parents, they just spawned one day and then grian created EVO

- Grian is the feral older brother who didn’t know what he was doing so thats why pearl is… like that

-> he got a bit better when jimmy spawned

- they all have pronouns ://

-> Grian = he/they

-> Pearl = She/They

-> Jimmy = ftm He/Him

- the capitalization is on purpose, grian does not care enough about gender to capitalize his pronouns

- WINGS! wings wings wings wings wings win

n e ways: wing headcanons

Grian: Obviously, the rainbow parrot bird wings. we all know where the wings originate from but i’d also like to imagine that, like a male bird, grian is colorful because they were the oldest, the “protector” of his siblings, so he was the brightest and most colorful to distract predators (mobs in this case) from their younger siblings

Pearl: now i haven’t seen many Pearl wing headcanons but i’d like to think that Pearl’s wings are bigass raven wings that she can use to make herself look more intimidating. Also, raven symbolism = every time you see a raven, death is approaching. They would also be easy to conceal under a dark jacket, like the black one they have.

Jimmy: the famed canary wings! canary, obviously referring to “canary in the coal mine.” the yellow to white gradient also looks almost ghostly in sunlight. jimmy is a naturally good singer and very friendly, like canaries often are, but keeping them in cages means there’s a ghost around. too bad he’s usually the ghost that’s around :(

- also i think it’s incredibly funny that, though parrots can grow to be 40 inches, ravens behind at 24-27 inches, and canaries only averaging around 3-5 inches, jimmy is the tallest sibling with pearl being a close second

- jimmy was obsessed with making random animals nests when he was younger:

-> finds a chicken

-> makes it a nest

-> cries when the chicken walks away

- whenever they’re on the same server, grian will just pick jimmy up (cuz tho he is short, their wings are very strong & fcking massive) and throw him like when he was teaching him to fly

- he has attempted this with pearl Once, and never again

- jimmy is the only one who preens his wings on the “regular,” but even then he only preens them like every three months when they are absolutely awful

-> the other two are TERRIBLE about preening

-> they get that hermitcraft hyperfixation that all the hermits get when starting a new build or redstone machine

- all of them are fairly light weight, though all looking like body-builders cuz hollow bird bones

- pearl is so done with her dumb older & younger brothers, at all times

- they will go days without seeing grian, or even weeks without seeing jimmy cuz of the server differences but the moment she sees them she just deflates

- exhausted

- she is very protective tho :) she joined empires to keep jimmy in check and then joined hermitcraft cuz they knew grian needed someone to keep HIM in check

- this was only a few days apart (empires - June 12, 21 / hermitcraft - June 19, 21)

- pearl joined to keep them in check, she failed, they both caused chaos and she joined in

- Pearl = goddess, Grian = watcher, Jimmy = listener

-> they use their abilities to cause mayhem and wreak havoc

- when it was “revealed” that lizzie and jimmy were seablings pearl and grian were jealous that jimmy got to be siblings with somebody cool AGAIN but they were stuck with him

- jimmy was offended they didn’t think he was cool

- both times jimmy has acquired a husband/partner, grian and pearl both had “the talk” with them

-unfortunately, they are simply too goofy to be taken seriously so both scott and tango were unconcerned until pearl’s eyes starting glowing white and grian’s wings were covered in massive purple glowing eyes

- both scott & tango asked jimmy if he could do cool stuff like that after they calmed down

-> he gave a wistful little sigh and said, “no, all i can do is hear down to atoms. not so impressing.”

- much confusion, those days

- feathers:

- jimmy gives feathers out like candy; to his family, his friends, his loves, etc.

- grian only ever gives his feathers out to very close ppl; their siblings and scar & mumbo

- pearl never gives her feathers out; they have a deep seeded fear of her feathers not being pretty enough in comparison to their brother’s bright colorful ones

-> the only time she’s given them is to her brothers when they were like 9

- they love each other !!! oh em gee

#grian hermitcraft #grian #pearl #pearl hermitcraft #pearlescentmoon #jimmy solidarity #hermitcraft #headcanons #hermitcraft headcanons #cursed trio #cursed siblings #bird grian #canary jimmy #canary in the coal mine #trafficshipping #solidaritek #flower husbands #bird pearlescentmoon #bird pearl #mcyt #double life #double life smp #empires jimmy #hermitshipping #mumscarian

[thestagsheadsblog]

TGM Dæmons

Has anyone done the obligatory 'what would their dæmon be if they existed in the world of His Dark Materials' for TGM? No one has done this shitpost yet? Well here are my theories.

Obviously they're gonna have to be birds because if you're getting ejected from a plane you need a dæmon that stands a chance of following you otherwise it (and you) are dead. Also, are fighter pilots the witches of our universe? Maybe. Hence birds. I don't make the rules. Also, I love birds. 

Here we go with this shitpost no one asked for (reposted for the 1000th time bc my account hates TGM tags):

Cooper's Hawk (Chicken hawk) - This guy is in a bit of a war with himself, so what better dæmon than one that is known to fight his own call sign. It's not the most noble bird of prey but it's a scrappy survivor and to many, a complete unrelenting nuisance. Everyone else is at the Hard Deck in their well-pressed uniforms and their well-preened dæmons and this guy shows up in a Hawaiian shirt with a scrawny chicken hawk dæmon that looks like it's been through a hurricane. She's small but f*ck with Bradley and she'll f*ck your dæmon up good, even if she's not the fastest or the biggest dæmon out there. 

Peregrine falcon - of course it's a peregrine falcon. "The fastest bird on the planet," Jake reminds everyone. "The fastest animal on the planet" his dæmon reminds him. As soon as his dæmon had settled into this form as a pre-teen Jake knew it was a sign that he was meant to be the best pilot of his generation. She's as arrogant as he is and uses her speed and maneuverability to pester the life out of his rivals' dæmons. None of them come even close to keeping up with her. She looks good on his shoulder. She looks very good. 

Burrowing Owl - while everyone else's dæmons perch proudly on their pilot's shoulder, Bob's is down by his ankles, peering uncertainly from the floor. She can fly, of course, but she prefers to keep a low profile, scampering after Bob on the tarmac on the way to their jet. She's shy, but she's also in the form of an animal that lives in colonies; she and Bob both need strong companionship and trust in their peers even if they aren't outwardly gregarious. Neither she or Bob are the type to go solo. 

Shrike (Butcher bird) - this dæmon is small, like his human, and is often underestimated (also like his human). He's not a bird of prey and is often confused for a songbird, but make no mistake, he's just as much of a predator as the rest of them. Shrikes are known to impale their prey on spikes and thorns, and this little dæmon is just as unassumingly dangerous. Many other dæmons have been subject to the wrath of Natasha's protective 'butcher bird', and have learned to give him wide berth least they end up impaled on a spike somewhere. 

Harris's Hawk - at first glance this dæmon looks like the archetype of a dæmon belonging to a fighter pilot - the lone raptor, solitary hunter relying only on itself for survival - but upon further inspection Javy's dæmon (and Javy himself) are very, very dependent on others. Harris's hawks (like Javy's callsign) are known to hunt in packs and their success is reliant on those around them. Javy falls into the roll of follower even if he likes to think he is the lone hunter like Jake's peregrine. His dæmon constantly needs to remind him that maybe it's not an altogether bad thing to fall in line and work cooperatively; in fact, that's where he excels. 

Pied Kingfisher - it's usually a portent of success in the Navy if your dæmon is a water bird, especially one as adept an aquatic hunter as a pied kingfisher. Like her human, this dæmon is clean cut and precise. Very precise, a perfectionist even. A pied kingfisher can nearly hover in air before a strike and there's a longstanding joke among Rueben's friends that his dæmon was probably a sign he should have been a helicopter pilot. As a result he has to spend the rest of his career trying to prove them wrong by being the very best at what he does. 

Blue Jay - Mickey's dæmon takes the form of a bird that begins its life black and only grows into its signature blue as it matures. Like his changeable dæmon, Mickey took the long route to becoming a WSO, starting as a pilot and working his way to the backseat. This dæmon is sharp-witted and unafraid to administer a sharp peck to the back of an unsuspecting head if she wants someone to listen to her human. The reliable blue jay is often the first bird in the vicinity to sound the alarm and alert surrounding animals to an incoming danger. All in all she is the perfect dæmon for a backseater. 

European Magpie - this dæmon took the form of an animal that is much too clever for its own good. Unnervingly smart and attracted to the bright and shiny things in life, Pete and his magpie dæmon are two of a kind; and are constantly getting into trouble for it. While he is mischievous and intelligent, he is not enough of an outright assh*le to have had his dæmon settle into an Australian magpie. He has to have had a little decorum to have gotten where he is. 

Goose - his dæmon is a goose. Duh.

#top gun #top gun maverick #pete maverick mitchell #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #natasha phoenix trace #robert bob floyd #javy coyote machado #mickey fanboy garcia #reuben payback fitch #nick goose bradshaw

[missusruin]

witchsona commission for @mussthemoose

horror/chicken witch + chicken familiars

#witchsona #commission #gore #chickens #witch #ruinfolk #morigirl #outfit design #concept was something like #a witch that protects chickens from predators #she looks scary but is extremely gentle with her flock #i had free rein on the design and its half like i just made a witchsona of me lmfao #body horror #my art stuff

[writingbykrystal]

I am the witch of the woods. l live there. I protect the woods, and they protect me. They were the refuge where I fled to when I was driven from my village. They said I cursed them.

I am being sacrificed to the witch in the woods. She cursed my village. Not recently, long before I was born. But she's still out there.

They sacrifice to me. They think that I cause all the problems in the village, so they sacrifice thing to me to make it stop. They're not always wrong. Mostly animals, goats, sheep, dogs. Nothing larger than a cow. This one feels different though. I can always feel what happens in my woods.

There is a plague in the village. They say she caused it. I had it. I survived it. I'm the only one in the village to survive catching it. They don't trust me. They think I'm a witch too. I survived the witch plague, so I must be a witch. They think if they give her a survivor as a sacrifice, she will call off the plague.

This one is different. It's not a dog, a cat, a chicken. This one is a girl. Alive, but bound, gagged, and tied to a stake, just like all the other sacrifices. She's bruised and bloody. She did not go lightly.

I did not go lightly. I screamed. I cried. I fought. How dare they. How dare they scorn me for surviving. For something not my fault. Something that should have been a miracle. They cursed me, so I cursed them in turn. I am not a witch, but they wanted a villain, so I gave them one. I told them that I cursed their village for a thousand years. They gagged me after that.

I can see her clearly. She's scared.

I can see her clearly. She is not as scary as they told me. She's pretty.

She's pretty. Under all the blood and dirt. I approach cautiously, so I don't scare her.

She approaches slowly. She moves gracefully. Like a predator. Oh god, she's coming closer.

I go around to the back of the stake. I take out my knife. She flinches. I can't blame her. Who knows what stories they told her.

She's behind me. Oh god she's behind me. What's she doing what's she doing what's she doing oh-

There. The bonds are off. She's free.

She can leave. She doesn't. Why doesn't she? She should leave. You can leave. Don't you want to leave?

I'm free. She cut the bonds. I can leave.

"Don't you want to leave?" Do I? Do I want to leave? No.

"No." No? Why not?

"Why not?" I don't know. I really don't.

She doesn't know. She doesn't know why she doesn't want to leave, and that scares her.

I'm scared. But not for the reason I should be. I want to go with her.

"Come with me." Please come. Please please. Come.

I go with her. She takes me through the woods. They're dark. They feel dangerous. But not to me.

My woods are dangerous. Men who come to hurt me don't make it out. They won't hurt her, though. They like her. I take her to my home. I hope she likes it.

I like her home. It's friendly. Filled with plants and animals. So that's what happens to all the animals that we - they - sacrifice to her. It's nice to know that they're here and happy.

My home is a haven. Sick and injured animals come here for help. I am a healer. I cure ills and injuries. "Come here."

"Come here." I come closer. She's very close. She puts her hand on my cheek. I can't breathe.

She stops breathing. She seems scared, but she doesn't move away from me. Is she scared of me?

"Are you scared of me?" I don't know. I should be.

She doesn't answer. She must be terrified. I start to heal her face, so that I can move away and stop scaring her. There, her wounds are fixed.

She healed my wounds. How did she do that? I want to do that.

"I want to do that." She wants to learn? She wants me to teach her?

"I want you to teach me." She is amazing. I need to learn. Please say yes.

"Yes." Yes, I'll teach her. I can't believe she wants to stay. I'll teach her how to be a witch.

I am the witch of the woods. I am the witch of the woods. They sacrificed to me. They sacrificed me. I did not curse their village. I cursed their village. They gave me the best gift of my life. They gave me the best gift of my life.

#my writing #i remembered i have a writing blog lol #gay #witch #witches #curse #magic

[walker-journal]

Legend of the Vermilion Bird (Adam +Leah)

Characters: Leah Ramirez (Phoenix- Julie), Adam Walker (Hunter-Tapir)

Location: Just outside the Vural Property

Timing: Shortly before the events of And From the Ashes

Summary: After killing a Torple, Adam consults a wary Leah about the nature of phoenixes 

Content Warning: Woerm gore

The forest road was alive with the subtle rustling and animal calls of spring as Adam skinned a large Torple that’d shuffled onto the Vural’s property, instinctually drawn by the taste of spellcraft that practically saturated the area. The Hunter supposed such predators were a hazard of having so much mojo concentrated in one place. Being a muggle himself, Adam wasn’t in much danger from these lumbering magic-eating worms, but the Hunter felt it behooved him to quietly take care of threats to his significant other’s family. 

The Torple looked like the big-mouthed lovechild of a naked mole-rat and an earthworm with massive human teeth. Even seated on a hefty moss-covered rock, Adam was barely taller than the corpulent segmented creature. It’s webbed limbs were spindly in comparison to its body while its enormous yet unsettlingly humanoid mouth made it a wonder the Torple could move at all. It jaws were immovable once latched on, but it was the thick glistening layer of magic negating mucus covering the magivore that made Adam preemptively take a machete to it outside the boundary of his hostesses’ wards, lest its mere presence unravel them. 

Adam worked a curved ulu knife down the dead Torples’ sides, scraping the anti-magic slime off with the skinning blade and scooping it into nearby barrels. He vaguely felt Leah’s approach before he heard her footsteps, the icy-heat of her paranormal presence growing stronger as she approached. Once he caught sight of the familiar face, the Hunter took his hand  off the handle of a hidden blade and got back to scraping Torple slime. 

“Hey Library Warrior, could I have a minute? I need to ask you about something.” 

Having Bea back in town felt like relief.  When she died, Leah had been so caught off guard that she was always waiting for the other shoe to drop now that she was back to life.  At any given moment, she expected another phone call from Nell or Felix or anyone telling her that it happened again, that there was no way to fix it this time.  And New York felt so tauntingly far away, especially to someone who had barely ever left White Crest.  And so the news that her best friend was coming back to town made the tension ease from her neck- had she been holding her shoulders that tight the whole time she’d been away?

Maybe she had been spending too much time at the Vural Sister’s house that weekend (to be fair, one-third of the sister trio would have said any time Leah spent there was too much, but that’s besides the point), but for the tension to truly escape her, she need some real, tangible time with her friend. 

While Bea was busy inside cooking, Leah chose to explore the property outside, eager to soak up some sun and enjoy the chill of winter finally breaking.  She grimaced when she happened upon Adam, and watched him with an unamused expression.  It was kind of easy to ignore that he was a hunter, most of the time, but not when he was slicing something up right in front of her.  She let out a breath when he called out to her, sitting on her hip.

“What’s up?”, she asked.  She was sure he was just curious about a book, or something- maybe he lost his copy of Green Eggs and Ham.

“What is that there?” she asked, gesturing to the creature he was scraping.  Damn her and her innate curiosity and thirst for knowledge.

“I need to ask you about Phoenixs,” Adam replied with the blunt directness that frequently came when one was focused on multiple tasks at once. “There is a fire chicken that’s gone supernova in a valley. Luce is like...a fire scientist but she isn’t sure what would make em go..” Adam made a sound in his throat evocative of an explosion. I was wondering if you’d heard of anything like that,” the Hunter asked of the Not-Spriggan. 

Adam patted the enormous human-mouthed earthworm with a gloved hand as he scrapped more slime from the corpse into a bucket. “This is a Torple, they hunt people who do magic,” Adam supplied. “The Vural place is kinna a beacon with the Hogwarts stuff going on.” 

Leah felt her eyebrows furrow at Adam’s statement- both at the boldness with which he said it, and the statement itself.  She felt heat rise to her cheeks- did he know about her?  Was the knife he held over the creature actually intended for her- her tears or information or life? But no, Nell wouldn’t let that happen, right?  Nell would have at least warned her if he found out.   She felt herself visibly relax when he explained more, swallowing before she responded.  “Luce told me about this, but… what makes you think I know anything about phoenixes?”, she asked, trying to remain stoic and unblinking.  “They’re just about the rarest known creatures- information is pretty rare on them.”  The last time they spoke on the subject, Adam himself had thought phoenixes only ever spent time in their firestate, which was laughable, at best.  “You want to explode them?  I don’t think Luce is down with that idea. And neither am I, if you’re taking my help.  You need to find a way to cure them, not kill them.”  Killing the corrupted phoenix would be very, very easy.  Adam could take notes from Dorothy and the Wicked Witch of the West, if he wanted to be cruel like hunters tended to be.  

She pressed her lips together, unable to look at the slaughtered earthworm for too long.  Torples.  She’d heard of them, but not a ton.  She’d have to see if they had anything written up on them when she went home later tonight.  “Well- it’s good that you got it, then”, she said with an awkward nod, glancing at the bucket.  “Is the slime useful, or something?”

“Because you’re like... a supernatural librarian lady,” Adam pointed out as if this somehow gave Leah some form of nerd-omniscience. “I figured that you’d be a person to ask about something that rare y’know?”

Leah seemed to misinterpreted his amazing sound effects. “Hey hey hey,” Adam exclaimed with a note of petulance, holding up his slimy free hand in a staying gesture. “Look, that Phoenix was already exploding when we found it ok,” he asserted with boyish pique. “What I mean is that I was wondering if you knew how we could switch them into I dunno... unexplode mode, like a song, some herbs they like, an off button, we’ll take anything.” 

Adam went back to driving his blade into the annelid’s side, exposing the yellowish nerve cords beneath its ridged skin. “It interferes with magic,” he explained. “Honestly, because of how many damn Chickcharneys there are around here, I end up dunking alotta people in this slime to try and bounce the Chickcharney curse off them.” Adam chose not to mention the part where he’d erased a wizards wards with this slime and accidentally become an accessory to murder. 

Leah let out a slow breath, watching Adam carefully.  He wasn’t… wrong.  But what were the ethical implications involved with helping a hunter learn about one of the rarest, most vulnerable species that existed? 

What were they if she let someone like Adam try to figure it out on his own?

She rolled her eyes at his defense, but held her hands up in apology.  “Sorry- I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”  Even though it was so hard not to with a hunter. She walked closer to him as she continued.  “I told Luce that I have an idea of how the phoenix got so out of control, but up until now, I thought it was only a myth.”  She paused- could she really trust him?  When she thought about it, she wasn’t sure, but maybe it didn’t matter.  What difference would it make if Luce and Adam were working together in this?  One way or another, Adam was going to find out.  Better it be out of the horse’s mouth.  

“We call them corrupted- it means that their ashes were on corrupted ground when they were reborn.  Sometimes the corruption happens right away, and other times the phoenix could be well into adulthood, with a life and a family before it happens.  There are no warning signs, either.   I don’t… I still haven’t found a cure in my research, but…”  She took a deep breath before continuing, and her next words came out faster than she intended.  “If this phoenix doesn’t survive…whatever you end up doing... the best way to help them in the next life is to keep their ashes somewhere safe and sacred.”

At that imagery, Leah couldn’t help but crack a smile.  “Are you telling me you make a habit out of performing Torple Slime Baptisms, so to speak?”

The palpable feelings of otherness intensified as Leah got closer, there’d been a time when Adam would have immediately gone into fight or flight mode when his Hunter senses reacted. But in White Crest he’d had to acclimate. That conditioning was an asset when hunting alghoul out in the sticks, but here it could end up him going all kill-zone on a librarian. 

Adam paused his gory worm skinning and listened to Leah as she spoke. He noticed the use of the word ‘we’ but kept silent and impassive during the explanation. It turned out that Luce had already tapped Leah on this matter, which was unsurprising. But while he’d hadn’t doubted that she was knowledgeable, Adam’d already suspected that Ramirez wasn’t your average bibliophile, but she knew even legends of the legend. 

“We ….as in the Maine librarian’s union?”  Adam’s question was playfully phrased. There were many species, secret societies, and so on that did not appreciate their ways being pried into, and Adam didn’t want to start shit with the one person who seemed to have solid intel on Chernobyl phoenix. 

“I would rather they survive,” Adam assured. “At the end of the day I’ll do what it takes to protect civilians, but from what you’ve said it sounds like this is some demon radiation juju that they didn’t have any say in.” 

Adam inhaled. “But, if it does come to that, has your research given you any idea of a holy place that’d work for keeping the ashes safe? Maybe some place sacred to uh...I don’t know if Phoenixes worship any gods,” he admitted. “But maybe somewhere that means alot to their culture?”

The unexpected jocularity of the question, from Leah especially, took Adam openly off-guard, teasing a sheepish smile from him. “Uh yeah actually,” he admitted while scrapping some more slime off the giant mage-eater worm into a bucket. “It’s not glamorous and the clients always hate it, but the Torple-dunkage sometimes works for really minor stuff like that.”

Leah blanched, blinking at Adam’s question.  Had she been so careless to say we?  “I uh… we as in, me.  Of course. Me,us.  And the other people who are interested in supernatural history.”  She swallowed, unsure if Adam were picking up on her status as a phoenix or her status as a scribe.  Possibly both, right?  This close, he had to be having those creepy senses that she wasn’t as human as she appeared.  Either way, it was bad news.  

“I’d rather that too, but I don’t think it’s unrealistic to prepare for the worst, either.” Something Adam said struck a chord in Leah, and she couldn’t stop herself before she commented.  “I mean, that’s true of most supernatural creatures though, isn’t it?  Born or bitten, werewolves, zombies, and vampires didn’t have a say in.  Do you grant them the same courtesy when they’re out of control?”

“I know a few places that could work”, she said, crossing her arms over her chest.  Whether she would tell Adam unless he absolutely needed them- that was another story.  “Not necessarily a culture to be had per say.  Because of their rarity and ability to blend in, it’s not often a phoenix ever meets another like them in their lifetime.”  She and her family were so incredibly lucky to have each other to love; to grow and learn from when they were the most vulnerable.  “I...know a family that would take care of the baby once they’re reborn, too, so-... if it comes to that, it’ll be all covered.”   

Leah let herself get a good look at the creature, taking as many mental notes as she could to write down later.  Sometimes Adam wasn’t as bad as he seemed.  “I think most people would be pissed if you dunked them into a baby pool of slime and sludge.  I certainly would.”

“It depends,” Adam answered without any attempt at dissemblance. “Gotta measure their life against the lives of those they’d kill when outta control,” the Hunter continued as he got down from the rock he’d been perched on to move his flaying blade to the Torple’s lower portion. “Most humans just get ripped in half if they meet a vamp that's gone all hunger frenzy, but I was born strong enough to match them,” he reasoned. “In the ideal scenario I wrestle the vamp or whatever off the civilian and get them to snap out of it.” 

Adam took the long strip of worm skin over to a tree and slung it over one of the branches to dry in the sunshine. “But uh, reality doesn’t give ideal scenarios most of the time y’know? Sometimes you have to make a split-second judgement or alotta people die,” the Hunter admitted. “ But yeah, I guess the best answer I can give you is that I try.” 

“That uh...sounds pretty lonely, being all human torchy and not having anything to relate to what the hell is going on,” Adam admitted, as he walked back to the Torple corpse. “Do you do the supernatural foster care stuff alot Leah?” 

Adam rolled his eyes amiably at the resistance to necessary alien-worm slime dunking. “Hey  Chick-a-Curses are worse though. Like all of their hexes are bad, but the one your head twists backwards...gah!  I either have to bribe a witch to visit their hospital room and decurse them, or I have to sneak in and pour worm slime over some poor bastard in a hospital bed and hope it works.” 

“Most vamps get stabbed if they meet an egotistical hunter”, Leah countered immediately.  “I appreciate your attempt to be civil in the way you handle things, but I don’t find the same to be true for most hunters.”  She couldn’t help but get into these debates with the hunters in her life, and if she were being honest, she didn’t really tire of them, either.

“It’s not all bad.  I know you assumed at first that they’re literal chickens, but like I said- phoenixes spend most of their time looking like humans.  And while a lot of them end up growing up not knowing what they are until they sneeze some smoke or look for a reason feathers are popping out of their foreheads, they’re not lost for companionship.  I’ve even heard tell of families who are able to stay together throughout their cyclical lives, raising each other generation after generation.  This is incredibly rare, of course.”

She blanched at Adam’s next question, opening her mouth and closing it.  She thought of the golden goose egg, still safely incubating in her basement, surely ready to hatch at any moment.  “I… how did you know I meant myself?”

Leah couldn’t help but laugh at his anecdotes, no matter how much she wanted to disavow them for being those of a hunter.  “That doesn’t sound like a fun way to wake up- are witches so untrustworthy of you that they don’t trust that your slime is for good?”

Adam rolled his eyes with a smirk. “Y’know, if I made the same argument in reverse about ‘most vamps’ being violent and evil you’d call me out for generalizing and being a bigot Ramirez,” he pointed out. 

Adam decided not to point out the fact that statistically the deaths on humans at the hands of vampires were uncountable orders of magnitude greater than vampires dying to Hunters. But frankly, it was pretty fucking obvious that Leah considered one supernatural life precious, but human lives were just numbers to her, devoid of emotional significance unless she knew them personally. 

It’s pointless to argue with people like that. 

“You don’t know ‘most Hunters’ Leah, not even close,” Adam pointed out bluntly, “Look Ramirez you hate people like me for reasons that are obviously personal. I’m fine with that.” the footballer said with a shrug of his broad shoulders, as if he felt this truce of hate sufficient. “It’s chill. 

Despite the slip into harsh words, Adam continued to listen patiently to the talk of phoenixes, families, and cycles of rebirth. It was all pretty surreal honestly. What would it be like to be with his family across a thousand lives over and over?

He wouldn’t know. Adam had grown up being raised with the knowledge that every moment with his family was precious, that he needed to learn how to survive on his own before they fell one by one in the line of duty. 

Adam hacked into the Torple with an unnecessary force as his chest constricted. 

“Do they line...remember each other each rebirth? Or are they all new different people each time?”

Leah’s unexpected motion of surprise caused Adam’s attention to flick to her instinctively, but her following question dispelled the moment of tenseness. “I didn’t,” he admitted. “I more meant that you seemed to already have homes in mind as if you were a supernatural social worker or somethin.” 

“You….really down to be a fire mom Leah?”

Adam considered Leah’s question for a moment. “I think that magic, like all resources, should be used for the betterment of society,” Adam said, hinting at a certain level of utopianism behind the memes and crass commentary. “But I can’t force everyone to think that way. If I’m going to bug a busy sorceress to leave her research to cure some rando she doesn’t know, I need to be able to pay her. Just how it is.’ 

Leah rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.  Adam was ignoring the fact that the violence that came from vampires was out of their control, and many of the deaths that came from them were for a need to survive.  Hunters, however, had plenty of control over what they did, and though there were a few gentle ones like Adam or Kaden, most would do what they did for sport, if given the chance.

“Neither do you”, she shot back.  And he’d never had to fear them, either.  She’d read countless stories about the atrocities they’d committed, and so excuse her if she didn’t trust a hunter as far as she could through them.

Again, his questions about phoenixes gave her pause.  Was this information relevant?  “It depends”, she explained.  “Not always concrete memories that you or I might have from last week or last year, but it’s more like… glimpses or feelings.  Sometimes even that doesn’t pop up right away, either.  Most phoenixes end up with a touchstone through most of their lives to help them connect.”  The touchstones didn’t always work.  She felt an invisible buzzing pull from the stone around her neck, taunting and teasing.  

She blanched at his elaboration, embarrassed that she’d assumed so quickly.  She didn’t hate the idea of that type of job, if she were being honest- supernatural social work sounded extremely fulfilling.  “Maybe I am on the side”, she teased.

“If it came down to it, yes.  But even if I couldn’t, there are arrangements I could make, if I’m being completely transparent.  Do you think you’d do the same thing, if you needed to?”

“I agree- but sometimes an idea like that is hard, because the idea of a better society can be so subjective and even divisive, you know?  What you and I think might be wonderful isn’t going to be the same as Joe who works at Excalibur.”  It was true,  Excalibur Joe had told her more than once that he thought the world would be better off without traffic lights.  “That’s not to say I don’t think betterment can happen- it’s just that the hard part is figuring out exactly what that betterment is for everyone.”

“You're right,” Adam allowed with the rueful triumph of someone who felt pain after a headbutt but took satisfaction in his opponent getting the worst of it. 

“Hmmm that sucks,” Adam mused as Leah explained firebird memories. “Guess that’s why we haven’t just solved all history questions with a few Phoenix interviews,” he reasoned.

Adam was quiet for a time as he flayed off more worm skin and yellow cutaneous tissues. “Maybe that’s better though,” he admitted after a while. “Dealing with one lifetime of going through shit is hard enough to deal with,” said the young man who trained and exercised himself to exhaustion in order to sleep. “Having to remember like other lives of horrible crap too? Don't think I could deal with it, i’d completely lose it.” 

Well ok, lose it sooner than most Hunters, Adam admitted to himself, knowing that after a time the human brain can only see so much before you start to break inside. 

“I think you’d do good at it,” Adam noted, meeting Leah’s joke with earnestness. “A foster advocate for kids i mean.” 

“Mhm. My parents adopted Hunters who were orphaned or whatnot, and I’d do the same,” Adam explained, to the question of whether he’d adopt as if there were only one answer. “Whether I take in kids or am a father, I’ll teach em how to survive,” said the Hunter, something in his tone suggesting this grim promise was the purest expression of parental love. 

“People are never going to agree on betterment,” asserted the young man born into a world of war with a shrug. “We just gotta decide what parts of our ideal world we have to get by force,”  and when talking things out is better,” said Adam. 

Leah had her mouth open, ready and willing to argue more, when Adam said that she was right.  She closed her mouth, sending him a resolute nod.  She sure was.   If only it were this easy to convince Kaden.

“Maybe, but I think it’s more the fact that they’re so rare.  Knowledge about them might even be scarce on purpose, in order to protect them.”  Did Adam know about the healing tears? Would he understand why they needed protection?  “Perhaps every life doesn’t have to be horrible, though.  It must be torture to know you’ve lived, say… three or four lifetimes before but have no idea about everything you learned throughout them”.

She smiled sheepishly at his compliment, pressing her lips together in earnest.  “Thank you”, she started.  “It means a lot.”

Adam raising children into more hunters was decidedly not what Leah was talking about, but his comments about his parents intrigued her.  “You had a lot of adopted siblings growing up, then?”  She didn’t want to delve into what he might have meant by ‘teach them how to survive’.

“I guess I just wonder who gets to decide”, she mused, turning back toward the house as she heard her name called in the distance. “My ideal would be to not have to do it by force, but I suppose that’s why Luce insists I’m an optimist.” She let out a breath, pressing her lips together in a smile.  “Did you have any other questions… about phoenixes?”

Adam nodded. “I mean I have alot of family in general like siblings, cousins, so on. As a kid it didn’t make much difference which ones had my blood or not. Some little Hunters were adopted fully, others just came to live with us and be trained for a few years,” the Hunter shrugged, indicating perhaps that his household had been a lively place full of both laughter and endless preparations for war. 

“That’s always the trick huh,” Adam affirmed with a grimace. “With Democracy you just get mob rule and decisions made without long term planning. With some elite body you get corruption and unaccountability,” the frat boy noted with a salience his professors would never hear him express in class. “I don’t think anybody’s solved that question yet.” 

Adam glanced toward the house and looked back to Leah, brown eyes intent for a time, hands dripping with the slime and blood of the massive witcheater. 

“Thanks Ramirez, I think I have what I need,” said the Hunter with the soft finality of someone who’d just come to a decision. “....sorry for keeping ya,” 

#And From the Ashes #Torple #Phoenix #phoenixleah #chatzy #Adam #Leah

[fragileizywriting]

rain

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Chat Noir hates the rain.

It’s very easy to explain why, and it’s not that hard to understand, because there is that whole cat demon part— because hell doesn’t have rain, so of course it would be his luck that he never got used to it— because it makes Marinette’s scent disappear and wash out of his nose and makes everything all muddy when he tries to sniff the air and, well, he really feels better when he knows where she is.

Marinette herself, the darling little witch, doesn’t hate it as much as he does. She doesn’t use her nose to sniff for him, since she’s only human, so she isn’t too upset when the grass starts to upturn that sappy scent that makes him sneeze— but he does catch her mouth starting to twitch downwards at the sign of the clouds turning dark in the sky, already succumbing to the fact that she’s going to have to listen to him whine about it until it stops raining again.

Ah well. If they’re miserable, they’re at least miserable together.

He relies more on his sense of magic when he’s washed out like this, which is fine— if he’s searching for her, which he often is, he’s able to find her easily just by the way their magic push and pull against each other. His magic searches for hers even without him wanting to, it’s embarrassing. No amount of internal berating is able to stop his magic from curling into the air and wanting to wrap around hers to form a unified ball, because their powers are so connected with each other they fit and nestle into each other like missing puzzle pieces, and his magic wants nothing more than to be attached to hers.

He’s never asked her if she feels it. If she feels the puzzle pieces, and how they fit together. He knows that she’ll just chalk it up to it being because of her summoning him up onto Earth, or that she’ll say that it’s because his magic wants to make sure that the person who he’s assigned to won’t try to run off on him. She’ll skirt around the issue. She’ll completely deflect. Even as their magic push and pull back and forth, curling and uncurling, keeping each other precious company.

He doesn’t need his nose to find Marinette.

But if there’s one of their precious hens on the run, because the thunder scared the little bird off— and Marinette is keen on trying to find the poor thing before any wolves do— well, there’s not much he can do.

Hens do not have magic, as far as he’s aware.

The sound of rain is loud in his ears. It’s not a roaring thunder, but it’s no drizzle, either— it plasters his hair to his face and makes his ears sag down from the weight. He’s miserable, just like he is when there’s water involved and he’s introduced to it unwillingly. He can pick up the noises of water droplets hitting all the leaves in the back woods as he searches the area for Henrietta— it’s loud and invasive to hear the branches whistle from the soft draft.

“Did you find her?” Marinette’s boots sink into a wet and nasty pile of leaves behind him, and he all but finds himself with two heavy armfuls of the witch as she stumbles while trying not to fall over. He tries wiping out some of the water from her bangs with one of his hands, but the strands are so drenched that they end up just curling in the direction of where his hand passed through— he can’t help but smile at her, even if he’s a little exasperated.

He sighs in defeat, looking back into the woods. The clouds above make it so that it’s impossible to see through, even with his night vision. “Maybe it would be better if we go looking for her after the rain is done, Princess.”

“But she could be terrified out here all alone!”

“She’s a tough bird,” He tries to flick his tail free of rain to no avail. Miserable. Absolutely miserable. It’s going to take him forever to dry off. He can see the resulting fight once he tracks water back into their house already, and he’s not excited for it in the slightest. “You saw how she demolished that racoon. There wasn’t any fear in her eyes.”

Chickens are ruthless. He’s thankful he hasn’t tried to show up into the coup in his cat form— he’d be pecked to death. He’s not even sure if he can actually die, but trust in a chicken to make his life difficult and figure that out for him in his stead.

“But—”

“—And any predator who attempts to go hunting right now is a sign that there’s trouble. It’s far too wet to be trying to hunt without a nose, so only the truly desperate go out. We’ll have bigger problems than just Henrietta to worry about if that’s the case.”

Her face pinches as she continues to think about it. “Oh, no. Are you talking about that fisher from last week?”

“We—” Well, “—I killed it. You saw all the bite and scratch marks, remember?”

Marinette hates watching him go hunting. She finds the spectacle almost nauseating, and he can’t really blame her— there’s far too much teeth and far too much hissing for it to be considered a fun thing to watch.

But absolutely under no circumstance is he going to let a dirty animal attack his property without him putting up a fight.

The hens may be a little apprehensive of him, sure, but they’re warming up to him— they’re family, even if the hens don’t agree. He’s really trying his best not to terrorize them anymore, but it’s been a gradual process. It’s taking a little bit of time— they’re aren’t as completely trusting as they are with Marinette and they flee the coup sometimes whenever he barges in on their clearly busy mornings— and Chat’s starting to suspect it might be because of his fangs. Or claws. Maybe his ears. Or his height, even. Something about his appearance makes the hens a little skittish, but they’re still their hens. He’ll do anything to protect them from harm, even if that means getting into a fight with an animal the size of one of his legs and leaves nasty bites.

Trying to figure out if he should fight the animal in his cat form or in his normal form had been exhausting. The fisher was much too big for his cat form, even with a supernatural bite force and supernatural speed— but fighting the fisher in his demon form had just been embarrassing whenever that angry rodent-esque animal decided to weasel out of his grasp. He ended up nearly burning the whole animal alive once he’d gotten a good grip on the tail just purely out of frustration.

“What if it’s another fisher?”

“Princess, I would’ve smelled another one.”

Her shoulders drop. It dawns on him, then, that she’s starting shake like a haphazard leaf on a branch in the middle of the storm, she’s so cold. Her small, fragile hands in his are so ridiculously cold, he’s certain she’s under a freezing spell. “You can’t even smell Henrietta. She’s out here, cold, and hungry— it’s raining too much for her to be comfortable anywhere other than the coup—”

“She’s going to be okay.”

“I miss her so much, Chat. It’ll be my fault if she gets hurt— I’ll never be able to forgive myself. I shouldn’t have kept the fence open— I thought they knew better— but the thunder— Chat, I’m just so stupid—”

“Princess, come on.” He sighs. If he doesn’t stop her soon, she’s going to berate herself until she cries. She’s getting there, he thinks— he can’t tell if the tracks of water on her cheeks is because of the rain or because of her watering eyes, but he doesn’t want it to last any longer than that. “We’re being useless out here, and you’re going to catch a cold in the rain if you stay here longer. Let’s go inside, let’s worry about Henrietta in the warmth of our house.”

“But— but—”

He raises a brow. “I’ll haul you back into the house myself if you don’t go.”

Marinette sags. “Alright. Alright. We’re sitting ducks out here, anyway.”

“Exactly.”

“Henrietta wouldn’t like us getting sick because of her.”

“Perhaps.” He’s a little iffy about it. Henrietta isn’t particularly fond of him.

“Chat,” That brings a smile to her face.

He’s thankful. So, so thankful to see that hint of a smile that turns the sides of her pretty lips up. “Trust me, Princess. Everything will be okay.”

“I do trust you,” She blinks at him, agreeing easily. He tries not to give into rubbing at the mark on his chest as it burns with her honesty. It’s a dangerous thing, he thinks, to have someone like her be so trusting of a demon like him— he doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve it. And from someone who deserves more than just him.

Either way, he eases her into turning her entire body to face the back of their little house. Hopefully there’s enough firewood to draw a bath for her, or at least get out of those petticoats and aprons that are most likely absorbing so much water and is making it impossible for her to move as swiftly as she usually does. He guides her back into their cottage with a hand on her lower back, careful of any more nasty leaf piles, turning one last time to the woods before ducking his head to enter through the door.

AO3 | Start here | Next Chapter

#marichatmay2021 #day one: rain #marichat #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #fire lily au #my fic #fragileizyadrienette

[alarawriting]

52 Project #39: Seista Nikita

Wow, my brain is a sieve lately. I just didn’t notice it was getting to be 5 pm until it was almost 6.

I wrote this story originally in senior year of high school, in a college creative writing course. Even if your political views don’t change over time, the culture around them does. The Culare was a mockery of ridiculous extremes of environmentalism and animal rights, a la PETA and suchlike. I wouldn’t write a story like this nowadays because the pendulum’s gone so far in the other direction, I wouldn’t see that worthy of mockery, even though I still disagree with such extremes as much as I ever did. I am very fond of the trickster heroine, though, so I’m publishing it anyway. It’s kind of a stupid story, but I still think it’s funny. There have been some revisions made, so if you note things that didn’t exist in 1987, that is why.

-------------------------

Once upon a time, in a distant province that never appeared on any map, probably because either a. it was too small to bother with or b. someone bribed the mapmaker, or possibly both, an evil beast called the Culare reigned. (It was pronounced like “Cool air”, but if anyone tried to spell it that way, the Culare would eat them.) Some said the Culare was an experimental mutation; others, an ecologist gone mad. The Culare was an intelligent lion-like being with teleportation powers who took the concept of “protecting the environment” to a degree so ludicrous, not even the most extreme environmentalist would support it. He refused to let the human beings in his province harm the native wildlife by picking it or killing it. That would have been reasonable, but he also wouldn’t let people pick anything they planted themselves, even on their own property. If the plant in question was native, he wouldn’t let them harvest it, and if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t even let people plant it, claiming it was an invasive species. And of course he wouldn’t allow anyone to raise animals for food. Not even unfertilized chicken eggs. (He also took a dim view of the cellophane wrapper industry.)

If people wanted to eat meat, they had to find roadkill, or something that had been killed by another predator. The problem was that the Culare thought that “protecting nature” meant preventing predators of any kind from killing other animals… which meant there were very few animals who’d died of anything other than starvation or disease as their populations exploded. If they wanted to eat vegetables or fruits, people had to find things that were lying around on the ground.  In the beginning of the Culare’s reign, there had been shipments from other countries of rice, and bacon, and potatoes, and tomatoes, and whatever else people wanted to eat. But the Culare wouldn’t tolerate ships that consumed fossil fuels coming in to the ports, and the people of the small nation couldn’t pay enough to make it worth sending sailing ships. Also, packaging. If the food came in anything other than packaging made from recycled matter, which would biodegrade, the Culare would eat the people who brought it.

The Culare himself was sustained on sunflower seeds and papaya juice… when he wasn’t consuming errant humans.  

(Some said the whole thing was a scam, giving the Culare an acceptably environmentally correct reason to eat people. None of them said it very loudly, though, or else they never said it more than once.)

One day, an old man who had once worked for a living making cellophane wrappers, and his 20-ish son Harold, were out, searching for rotten apples and fallen nuts to eat. It was hard enough to find such things, when the entire country was desperately trying to find the same things so they wouldn’t starve to death.  It was made even more difficult by the fact that it was springtime. You might think that the reason springtime was an issue was that nothing had had a chance to get ripe enough to fall, and you’d be correct enough.  But the bigger part of the problem was that Harold was in love, with a girl named Seista Nikita, and he seemed to think that he could live entirely off air, sunlight and his love. At least, one would suspect that from how much attention he was not paying to finding food.

The old man finally got ticked off at the way his son was paying next to no attention to the task at hand, and hobbled off.

“At last,” Harold thought. “That old geezer’s gone. Him and his stories about the glorious days of Saran Wrap! I’d much rather sit under a tree and think about Seista.” With that, he sat down under a tree and thought about Seista.

At the height of his romantic musings, he saw a bunch of flowers. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could pick them and give them to Seista,” he thought, ignoring the fact that Seista would probably prefer nearly anything to flowers. Quickly, he looked around. He saw no one. His hand reached out and he plucked the blossoms.

Suddenly there was a burst of acrid smoke, and a huge lion-like beast appeared in front of him, kind of like the Wicked Witch of the West. “The Culare!” Harold babbled, and tried to hide the flowers.

“SLEAZOID,” the Culare rumbled. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THOSE FLOWERS?”

“Well, it was – it was an accident, yeah. I – you see, I, I thought they were looking ill, that’s it, and I tried to lift them up to inspect them. Yeah, that’s it. And – and they accidentally came loose, yeah—”

“FOOLISH SLIMEBUCKET, DO YOU REALLY EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE SUCH A RIDICULOUS STORY?”

“Oh, please don’t eat me!” begged Harold. “I’ll never do it again!”

“THAT’S WHAT THEY ALL SAY. BUT IT ISN’T GOOD FOR ME TO EAT A HEAVY MEAL THIS EARLY IN THE MORNING. I’LL COME BACK FOR YOU AT SUNSET.”

With that, the Culare vanished.

Harold ran straight to Seista Nikita’s house and told her the news. “And so we must be forever separated, beloved,” he said, tears in his eyes. “For I am doomed! At sunset tonight, I am destined to lose my life at the hands of the Culare. The paws? The claws? I’m not sure ‘hands’ is the correct thing to say here…”

Seista sighed. “You would go and do something like this, wouldn’t you? Stop moaning like that, you sound like a dead cow. I’ll kill the Culare for you and save your idiot backside. Okay?”

“Okay,” Harold sniffed.

So Seista Nikita put on her very tall platform shoes. These shoes were easily a foot and a half tall. You wouldn’t think anyone would be able to walk in such shoes, unless maybe they went to clown college and learned how to use stilts. Seista was a very acrobatic and skilled young woman, though, so while she wobbled a bit, she managed to stay upright all the way to the nearest meadow, which was badly overgrown with wildflowers, pokeweed, ground cover plants, and about half a billion tiny mimosa seedlings. She began to pick flowers and toss them into the air.

The Culare appeared. “SLEAZOID!” he boomed.

“Come and get me, shag-face!” Seista yelled, which was a reference to his lion-like mane rather than some sort of rude reference to a private activity. She kicked off her shoes, directly in front of the Culare, and ran. The Culare tried to pursue, but he tripped over her shoes and broke a forepaw.

“Damn,” Seista said, after escaping. “Those shoes were big enough that he should have tripped over them and broken his neck.” The thought occurred to her that perhaps she should have factored in the fact that he had four legs, and therefore had better balance than she’d accounted for. “I’ll just have to think of something else!”

An hour later, after getting into sneakers and sensible clothes, she climbed a tall cherry tree, went up as far as she could before the branches could no longer hold her weight, and began to pick cherry blossoms. It wasn’t long before the Culare appeared. “YOU AGAIN?”

“Nah, nah, nah nyah nah!” Seista taunted.  She was tall and strong and very acrobatic and fairly smart, but she was, admittedly, more than a little childish.

The Culare leapt at the tree and began to climb up. Seista waited until it had almost reached her, then dropped, letting go of the branch she was on… having already checked that there was another branch right below her. From there, she clambered down as fast as she could go. She figured that would hold him until he starved to death; the Culare was obviously a type of cat, and cats are terrible at climbing down trees.

So she went home to Harold, who was watching a Tarzan movie. It was an animated Disney reboot in 3D. “Well, I took care of that problem.”

“Really?” Harold turned, his 3D glasses sliding off his face. “O my beloved, my thanks know no bounds—”

“Skip it.”

A bulletin interrupted the Tarzan movie. “We interrupt this movie for an important bulletin.”  This was impressively implausible, since the movie was on a streaming service and you wouldn’t think anything could break into and interrupt one of those.

The Culare’s face appeared on the television. “SEISTA NIKITA, IF YOU’RE OUT THERE, YOU’RE DEAD!”

Seista stared in shock, as the movie resumed. How had he gotten out of that tree? …oh yeah, he could teleport. She probably should have thought of that.

“I thought you said you took care of it!” Harold whined.

“Shut up, I’m trying to think.” Tarzan swung across the jungle floor on a vine. The 3D was powerful enough that he visibly swung toward Seista, despite the fact that she wasn’t wearing 3D glasses. “Oh! That’s it!”

“What’s it?”

“Harold.” She patted his very handsome cheeks. “I love you dearly but you’re too stupid to know what I’m talking about.”

***

Nearby, there was a ravine, where Seista found a tree on one side. With a very long rope, tied to an upper branch of the tree, and a rock tied to one side of it, she flung the rope to the other side, getting it caught on the other side of a bush. There was a bridge a few hundred feet away; she ran down to it, crossed it, and went back to the bush.

With the rope held in one hand, she picked a dandelion.

The Culare appeared. “THAT’S IT! YOU’RE DEAD!”

As he leapt at her, Seista grabbed the rope and swung to the other side.  The Culare roared and leapt at her, apparently unable to see the cliff through the bush.  It turned out he couldn’t teleport if he was in midair; he fell to his death in the ravine below.

She and Harold were married the next week. Three months after that, Seista left Harold to find herself, and ran away to a country where she worked as a stuntwoman in movies. Harold mooned over her for another month before finding his next true love. Seista herself never married again, having decided that being tied down by romance wasn’t for her… particularly since she seemed to be sexually attracted to idiots. She had many fun and satisfying sexual relationships with people whose stupidity didn’t have to impact her life very much.

#52 Project #comedy #trickster tale #fairy-tale-ish

[witchofapollo]

A Few Reminders From An Animist Pagan

Buying honey is good b/c beekeepers ensure that the bees stay happy and healthy while protecting them from predators. They only collect excessive honey, but leave behind more than enough honey for the bees

Not everyone can afford to be vegan and some people have dietary restrictions that would make being vegan unhealthy. Instead of preaching for people to go vegan, work towards making free-range farming more of an expected thing. Meat collected from non-sport and fair hunting is vital to a lot of indigenous communities and communities around the world. It is possible to respect the animal you are hunting and thank it for it’s meat.

Vegan cats and dogs are not a thing. You are committing animal abuse by negligence if you force veganism upon your omnivore and carnivore companions. I will also manifest inside of your home and move all of your furniture a few inches to the left so you stub your toe every day for the next week and hex you so that you can not say the word “vegan” easily. If you want a vegan animal, get an animal that only eats veggies like a Rabbit.

Invasive and Non-native do not mean the same thing.

If you see a wounded animal, contact the correct local wildlife officials for your area who are more qualified to help this animal than you. You may intend well and truly believe you can help, but all you are going to do is put yourself and the animal in danger by stressing it out. There is a reason you need a college degree to work at a zoo and a conservation/rehabilitation center. Hell, vets have to go through even MORE schooling. 

Chickens lay eggs EVERY DAY and do not need a rooster to lay them. You are not stealing their babies, especially if there is no rooster. If there is no rooster, the eggs will not actually hatch into anything but will instead rot

I do not care how friendly it is, you can not keep a wild animal as a pet. In most places, you at the very least need a permit (which is hard to get), but in most cases it is illegal. 

If you are financially unable to care for an exotic pet in the best way possible, do not get an exotic pet. This includes stuff like large enclosures,  time and equipment to keep them stimulated, regular vet visits, the correct food for it’s natural diet, temperature regulators, permits, etc.

Not everyone has a green thumb and that doesn’t make you any less of a witch

If you are burning something like sage in your home, you need to have proper circulation and a place to put your animals until it is completely gone because their lungs don’t handle it as well as us. 

Wend*go are terrifying creatures that will not be friends with you. If you come across a spirit companion store who is advertising such, either they are lying or you need to run away from them very fast. The story comes from a specific tribe of Native Americans and it is not a myth to them. Saying the name is said to be enough to call them to you. You can not be friends with them. You can not be rational with them. You can not “save” them. They are to be feared and you should respect that.

I feel a level of respect for moose that comes from an instinctual fear of their power in the same way I feel respect from fear for the ocean.

#witchblr #witch #witchcraft #witches of tumblr #witches of color #witchy #animist #pagan #paganism #pagans of color #pagans of tumblr #occult #wicca #wiccan #new age #magic #magick #aesh speaks

[scotiaeire]

RIPA Documentary - Lessons of the völva

I DO LOVE THIS. AND DESPITE THE FACT I’M NO VOLVA, IT FEELS FAMILIAR. I’M HEATHEN RAISED. AMONG THE HERBS AND WEEDS THAT GREW IN SCOTLAND I LEARNED WHICH, AS SHOWN HERE, COULD HELP SOOTHE..OR KILL. WHY SHOULD YOU LEARN WHICH WOULD KILL? WELL, ASIDE FROM THE OBVIOUS ..FOR WARNING OTHERS NOT TO USE OR EAT THEM ACCIDENTALLY...WE KEPT LIVESTOCK. WE WERE ABOUT AS ISOLATED AS YOU COULD GET WITH NO FUNDS TO AFFORD A VET’S VISIT. SO IF AN ANIMAL WAS MORTALLY WOUNDED OR DYING AND IN PAIN, IT WAS *ALWAYS* BETTER TO KNOW HOW TO PUT IT GENTLY OUT OF IT’S MISERY THAN LET IT CONTINUE TO SUFFER TO AN UNDIGNIFIED, PAINSTREWN END.

AND SO IT SHOULD BE WITH HUMANS, IMO.

WITCHES LEARN TO CURSE AS WELL AS HELP. TO KILL AS WELL AS CURE. IT’S BALANCED. IT’S KNOWLEDGE THAT WAS ONCE WIDESPREAD AND COMMONLY USED.

AND THE WAY THE WORLD APPEARS TO BE GOING, WHERE IN MORE THAN ONE COUNTRY NOW, NOT EVERYONE CAN AFFORD MEDICAL TREATMENT OR, WITHOUT FUNDS, IS NOT EVEN ALLOWED IT, MAYBE IT’S TIME AS WITCHES, AS VOLVAS, AS SEIDR PRACTITIONERS, FOLKS RELEARNED WHAT OUR ANCESTORS KNEW INTIMATELY.

ON A PERSONAL NOTE, BACK IN SCOTLAND, DAD KEPT GUNS, SHOTGUNS AND RIFLES. CROFTERS AND FARMERS ARE ALLOWED TO DO SO TO PROTECT THEIR CROPS AND LIVESTOCK FROM PESTS AND PREDATORS. SO HE ALSO TAUGHT ME MORE THAN ONE METHOD OF PUTTING AN ANIMAL OUT OF IT’S MISERY, OR OF CULLING ONE FOR FOOD. I LEARNED TO DO THIS, TO GUT, SKIN, BUTCHER AND PREP MEAT FOR THE TABLE AND TO STORE. I ALSO LEARNED TO TAN THE HIDES AND PELTS AND TO USE OTHER PARTS SUCH AS GUT, SINEW AND BONE.

BECAUSE, IF YOU ARE GOING TO EAT MEAT, YOU THANK THAT BEAST FOR  IT’S LIFEFORCE THAT WENT TO FEED YOUR OWN. AND YOU USE AS MUCH OF IT AS IS USEABLE.

AND FOLKS THAT ONLY KNOW CHICKEN COMES WATER-INJECTED IN SHRINK WRAPPED PACKAGES, ALREADY CHOPPED INTO TINY BITS READY FOR STIR FRYING, AT STUPID PRICES, MIGHT THINK A WEE BIT ABOUT THAT, IF THEY WILL.

(PERSONAL “PLANT” WANT: A BIRCH TREE FOR OUR FIELD, SO I CAN TAP THE SAP IN SPRING. HAVEN’T YET FOUND A GARDEN CENTRE THAT SELLS ANY)

#VOLVA #LESSONS IN HEALING #BONE KNITTING #comfrey #CHANGING WORLD #NEED FOR SUCH FOLKS AGAIN #ANYONE GOTTA BIRCH SAPLING FOR SALE IN IRELAND?

[growingstronglikeahighgardenrose]

The Bear and the Maiden Fair

12 Days of Sanditon: Roaring Fire/ Sleep in heavenly peace

Pairing: Esther Denham/Lord Babington

Synopsis: It was the middle of Winter when someone knocked on Esther's cabin in the middle of the woods. The humans of the village had persecuted her for Witchcraft years ago, who would come looking for her? It turned out it wasn't a who, but rather a what: a bear, all black and brown and covered with hair. OR: the one in which Lord Babington is a cursed bear looking for shelter. Fairytale inspired on Rosered and Rosewhite.

Available on AO3

It were times like these when Esther’s need for company was at its highest.

When the wind was howling so loudly not even the sound of the enchanted violin and piano could drown it out.

When her house creaked louder than the roaring fire crackled.

It was her third year out here in the woods, and by now she’d gotten used to the sounds of the woods, the nights used to scare her to a point where she couldn’t sleep until she was utterly exhausted. She’d grown up with scary stories about the woods: monster, goblins, fairies, wild beasts and murderers were known to plague the woods. Though she’d managed to convince herself that half of those threats were fairytales, she knew that the beastly and human predators in the woods were very real. She’d encountered a murdered body, and she’d had to run away from a pack of wolves as well. The stories didn’t keep her up at night anymore, but those memories certainly did.

On a rational level, she knew not to fear. Her house, and the small garden around it, were protected with at least six spells. No humans could get past it. And no animals meaning harm could either. Her spells left enough room for innocent animals to come up to her house.

She liked seeing bunnies hop through her garden, even if they stole her slaw, and she once had a deer walk in during summer. The deer seemingly sensed that it had nothing to fear from her. It had been the first substantial living thing she’d held in years. Prior to that, she’d only hugged and stroked some mice and rabbits, and the chickens. She’d also taken care of a bird with a broken wing once, but birds were hyperactive creatures, they disagreed with her own nature.

Perhaps she should try venturing to the town border and catch a cat. She would love to have a permanent pet. A cat would suit her just right, she’d had one prior to living here.

Wonder if she’s still alive, poor thing was left to Edward’s care.

She took the ladle out of the cauldron filled with water, and poured some hot water in her empty mug. With a flick of her hands, the pot with tea herbs came floating towards her. She added a good amount of leaves to the hot water and sent the pot back to where it came from.

She’d always been a mediocre witch, a taint on the Denham line according to her aunt.

If she only knew. I bet I can do more now, than she ever could. I simply needed the practice. Nothing like absolute boredom to finally take the time to learn magic.

After Edward had ratted out her and Clara, so that he would be the only one receiving Lady Denham’s inheritance, she’d managed to free herself with her magic by sheer luck. Since witchcraft was forbidden, and she’d quite hated being one, she’d always supressed that side of her. But, as she was locked away awaiting her witch trial, the combination of the panic and the wish to live, she’d called on some kind of instinctive magic which had destroyed her restraints. She’d fled, taking all of Lady Denham’s books on witchcraft, and all the clothes she could carry.

She’d been walking through the woods for two days by the time she stumbled upon the old woodsman cabin, it hadn’t been inhabited in a decade and had been barred shut to protect it from rogues and animals. With the same instinctive magic, she managed to get the layers of wood shielding the door and windows away. The house was sturdy and the furniture had still been present.

After mastering a couple of practical spells, she’d returned to the town in the dead of night to steal more of her belongings and some practical necessities. But she tried to keep her visits to a minimum. With every visit she risked exposing herself.

She stared at her three meagre bookshelves. She’d read everything at least twice, and some even more than twenty times.

‘If only there was a spell to magically produce an interesting book.’

She eyed the periwinkle blue and wine bottle green book on the second shelf.

She felt like reading a tale set in Winter. ‘Andersen or Grimm?’

She’d taken to talking to herself out loud as a means to kill the silence. She’d never gone without talking for a day. She just couldn’t bear it. She sang as she cleaned, she hummed as she made dinner, she mumbled as she practiced the hand movements for spells and she cursed herself for screwing up certain spells. In many ways, life in the woods had killed her awkwardness and shyness. In the village she’d always been quiet, rarely talking, and rarely making a decision, she’d left it all to Edward. She didn’t feel the same inhibitions in the woods, she found she enjoyed talking and singing, and she’d made every decision ever since. Now of course, you could ask the question how much of her shyness had actually gone away, since she never interacted with another human being since, Esther asked herself the exact same question from time to time, but there was no doubt to the fact that she felt more comfortable in her own skin.

‘Too moody, Grimm it is’, she decided. With a move of her pinky and index finger, the book started floating towards her.

However, it was surrendered to the gravitational forces when a knock on the door startled Esther. The book collided with the wood log table, and sent her cup of tea toppling over.

Impossible.

Knock knock.

Esther rose slowly.

Was someone actually knocking on the door? Humans couldn’t get past the fence. She took the poke from the fire.

The sound returned.

  It sounded blunter than a knock. Like something soft and heavy bumping against it.

A wounded animal perhaps?

Mindful to stay away from the windows, she moved towards the door.

She waited for the sound, three inches removed from the door.

Something knocked against the door again.

Whatever produced the noise wasn’t about to give up.

‘Come on Esther, it speaks volumes that not a single person has managed to get to your door in these three years. It has to be an animal, and a well intending one at that. Have some faith in your own spells. Damn it, are you a Denham witch or not?’

She took a deep breath and reached for the handle, slowly turning it over and opening the door a couple of inches.

Nothing could have prepared her for what was on the other side.

She shrieked, slamming the door shut as fast as she could.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  A bear.

A very big,

very brown,

very tall bear.

The bear scratched against the door, making a pitiful sound.

She wasn’t going to start feeling guilty for keeping out bears now, was she? Having a deer in her house was one thing, but a bear?

The bear seemed to make a sound close to moaning, a deep, bearly moan that was.

‘It’s not going to harm you, it’s gotten past your defences. It isn’t even scratching your door. Come on, it’s probably hurt. You can always immobilize it with a spell if anything happens… it’s still a bear though… A bear caught in a blizzard.’

She looked outside the window. It had been snowing for three consecutive days. She couldn’t see the ground or even the green of the trees anymore. All was white. It was freezing. And this bear was out in that horrible snow storm.

‘Aren’t they supposed to hibernate? They’re not made for walking around in the snow.’

That was it. She wouldn’t allow some silly unfounded fear of hers to lead to the potential death of an animal. She was intended to be a friend to the animal kingdom.

She opened her door again.

The bear was still there.

‘Alright, come in but please don’t kill me’, she squeaked as she pulled the door open as far as it could go.

The bear came in. Its coat was completely covered with clumps of snow, and it had visible difficulty walking.

She closed the door and looked at the creature. It was bigger than any living thing she’d seen before, yet it still fit inside her small home. He was higher than a table, and longer than she, but not by much, a foot at most.

It had to be close to freezing to death, with all that snow caked in its fur. He was very lucky to stumble upon her house. She doubted he would’ve made it much farther, judging by how skinny he was and how slow his movements were.

She pushed aside the log table and her comfortable chair.

‘Come lie in front of the fireplace, so that the snow might melt.’

The bear all but collapsed near the fire, a last soft sound escaping from its mouth.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

 She stared in shock as her house became silent again. Her instruments had stopped the second she heard his knocking, and now that the bear had fallen down, there was only the sound of the wind and the fire.

Had he died?

‘Bear? Bear?’ She gently pushed him with her foot. Its eyes blinked.

Alright, he was alive.

‘Let’s get you warmed up.’

She took her brush, and started bristling his fur. The clumps of snow had hardened into ice. It was hard to get out, but she was determined to get the cold clumps off his body.

As she worked on his fur, she found her heartbeat calming down. The initial sight of him had scared her, but her fear slowly melted as he lay there on her carpet like an oversized cat, undergoing her ministrations.

‘I think I’m getting it all out. I wonder if you’re warm enough though. I would offer a human some hot food or a hot drink but I doubt you’d be able to consume that.’

Of course, the bear couldn’t answer since it was a bear. So Esther was left frustrated as she tried to figure out the next step.

Deciding that staring at him until she found out what he needed wasn’t useful either, she picked up her empty cup of water, filled it again, and sat down in her chair to continue her reading.

She didn’t know for how long she’d been reading, when suddenly the bear stood and turned, before lying down again. It was facing her now.

She frowned at the bear. Why did it do that?

Was it because its position had become uncomfortable? At least it was a sign the bear still had some life. It could be a sign that it was getting better after its dangerous adventure in the blizzard.

It wasn’t attacking her, that was a good sign at least.

Instead, it seemed interested in her. Its eyes were more alert now, and to her shock she noticed that his eyes were an odd shade of green with flecks of blue and grey.

Was that normal?

  ‘Hey there’, she said in an attempt at kindness.

She felt a lot sillier talking to this creature than she normally did while talking to an animal.

Nothing silly about it, it can’t understand you and it won’t judge you for speaking either, just like those mice and bunnies.

The bear blinked at her and she returned to her reading, going back to reading out loud.

By the time she’d finished her tale and looked back at the bear over the top of her book, it had closed its eyes.

‘Alright, you sleep by the fire’, she sighed before stretching and yawning.

The bear opened its eyes again, as if it understood that it was being addressed. No, that couldn’t be.

She was starting to get so desperate for company she actually started imagining the animals listening and reacting to her.

‘I’m going to go to bed. Don’t do the animal thing okay, I don’t want to clean bear dung from my floorboards. Try holding it until tomorrow morning.’

The bear’s head moved.

No, it couldn’t understand her, could it?

‘Goodnight.’

‘Nnnnaam.’

Esther had to laugh, its bear noise almost sounded like ‘night’, but that couldn’t be. She blew out all the candles. Only the light of the fire now illuminated the giant figure in front of the fire.

‘Okay, see you tomorrow.’

She opened the door to her bedroom and closed it after her. She shook her head with a smile. A bear in her house, which almost seemed to respond to her talking, it really couldn’t get much crazier than that. As she crawled into her bed, she wondered what happened once something stepped foot on her property. Animals with good intentions could, but what if they suddenly turned violent, would her protective spells make the animal disappear? Or would it be able to attack her since it had already passed the wards?

She eyed the door, her heartbeat picking up again. The bear hadn’t given her any reason to fear it, but it was still a wild animal. In the end she cast a light spell on her door so that only she could pass it, after that she fell into a peaceful sleep.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

   She had to admit her brain hadn’t been working when she woke up the next morning. Because she got out of bed like she did every day, and put on her wool stockings and warm morning gown, taking no trouble to brush her hair, before stepping out of her room.

But as she rubbed her eyes, she managed to get a glimpse of something moving in the corner of her eye.

That was the moment where she was snapped out of her sleep drunken state and started screaming.

The bear was just as sleepy and just as startled, but more so because of the scream than the sight of the woman. Just as she screamed in surprise, the bear was rendered mute by shock.

She’d slammed herself into the wall, staring at the bear as she caught her breath. The previous night came back to her, yet to see the bear in bright daylight, humongous, with sharp discernible teeth in its mouth, was enough to get her a bit scared again.

‘Oh, it’s you. I’d quite forgotten about you.’

A sound left the bear’s mouth.

‘I’m sorry, alright. My head doesn’t function in the morning.  You doing better?’

The bear seemed to nod again.

‘I’m going to have breakfast. I don’t know what to give you.’

The bear moaned.

It looked so skinny. It had to eat.

‘Oh if only I knew!’

The instinctive magic inside of her welled up again, making a book fall off of her shelves.

Esther  and the bear broke eye contact because of the sound.

‘What on earth? Oh.’

A book on animals, she’d forgotten she had it, it was one she rarely read. She’d brought it with her so she’d be able to look up all the creatures potentially living in the woods, to find out whether they’d eat her or not.

‘Let’s see what kind of bear you are.’

The bear  stood and walked to her. It seemed to want to look at the book.

Should she sit down so he could see?

As she wondered on what she should do, the bear decided for itself, and lifted itself on its legs.

She had so miscalculated its height. Its head almost touched the ceiling. She didn’t even reach its shoulders.

Her heart started beating.

She’d seen foxes, stags and horses and she’d been threatened by wolves. But the sheer size of this beast was like nothing she’d ever seen before. It dwarfed her.

‘Sit down, I’ll sit down with you. Just… Don’t stand.’

  The bear let itself plop down again, and lied down on the ground, making itself as small as possible. She sat down on her knees and laid the book on the floor. There were five bears in the book. He obviously wasn’t a white one, nor a panda or a black one.

He made a sound as a large paw with giant claws landed on a page.

Stiff with fear, she pushed his paw aside.

‘Alright. So you say you are this type of bear? Let’s see… It says you eat… Everything, potentially… Me.’

She didn’t want to give it ideas though. The bear made a sound, it didn’t sound enthusiastic.

‘Fish. Grasses and stuff, slim chance at that… Berries… If you can eat everything, I think you might be able to eat some porridge with berries like me. You’ll probably need more of it though.’

Luckily, she had a year’s supply of it, just like she had bowls and bowls filled with jams and dried berries. The one good thing of her garden, and a forest filled with wild berries during three seasons of the year.

The bear happily ate four plates of porridge with berries before he seemed to be satisfied.

‘Seems the cold froze your instincts as well, a bear eating human breakfast’, she laughed.

 There was no guideline for taking care of starved bears though, so Esther didn’t know what to do with the unexpected guest. It was December, and there was little to do in the winter season. She couldn’t exactly play boardgames with him.

Turned out she didn’t have to, for after breakfast, he went to the door and starting thumping his head against the door. She imagined that if he were a cat, he’d start clawing at the door, but the bear seemed to sense that his claws would destroy the door.

‘You need to go out? You can go. And, should you need to, you can come back here.’

  She opened the door and the bear walked past her, brushing against her legs as he did so. He didn’t look back as he walked into the woods. Esther remained standing in the portal for longer than she liked to admit. And if she sat down on a chair near the window to regularly check the woods, she wouldn’t tell.

‘This is so stupid, it’s a bear. It was already strange enough that he came by once, why would he return? They’re meant to steer away from humans.’

She looked outside again.

‘Though I hope he won’t starve.’

The silence was getting to her again, so she made the piano play a cheerful tune.

Tea, she needed tea. Her cauldron of water was empty. She walked outside, humming to herself as she made the cauldron float behind her.

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  It was in this instant, as she was picking up snow and throwing it in the floating cauldron, the ice biting in her hands, that she was once again startled by a sound.

But this time it was no growl, nor was it the wind howling in the trees. For the first time in three years, Esther Denham heard the voice of another living creature. She looked away from the snow, and her eyes connected to the figure of the bear. Two fish lay at its feet. He was completely soaked, and the water was starting to freeze as he was standing there.

‘What was that?’

The bear looked at her with his odd green eyes.

She had not just heard a voice say ‘Witch’.

‘For a second there, I thought you’d talked.’

‘I can talk?’

Esther would never be able to describe how strange it was to hear a human voice out of the very bear-like mouth of a giant bear.

‘You talk. You can’t. You’re a bear.’

‘You magic-ed. Cauldrons aren’t meant to float.’

  He had a point, she wasn’t exactly normal. But compared to a talking bear, she’d say she was…

‘I’m ordinary compared to you. Everyone’s heard tales of witches, I’ve yet to hear a story about talking bears.’

‘There’s one right in that book of you. Did not those bears talk to Goldilocks?’

‘You know fairytales? I’m not doing this. I’m not… I might be lonely but I am not crazy. I am not talking to a speaking bear knowledgeable on fairytales. I’m starting to imagine things… I’m dreaming. I must be. I’m not mad.’

Shaking her head, she took the kettle by its handle and walked in again, closing the door behind her with magic.

As she hung the kettle on its hook again, she heard a bang against the door.

‘Please. I’m cold’, the voice begged.

‘I’m going mad. I’m actually going mad.’

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

 But the bear was wet. And it was freezing outside. And he was frail. Of those things she was sure. The question was whether she wanted to risk her sanity for the life of an omnivorous talking bear.

‘How can you talk?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Why didn’t you talk yesterday?’

‘I didn’t know I could talk. I never tried it before. And I was tired, I never felt so weak before. I’d been walking through the snow for days. I thought I’d die until I found this cabin. Used my last strength to get here. I couldn’t move an inch once I fell down on your floor. I can’t thank you enough for helping me and feeding me. I know I look dangerous. I know food is scarce. I… I brought you a fish as a sign of thanks.’

‘But the lakes and rivers are frozen. How did you break through the ice?’

‘It wasn’t easy.’

‘Alright, fine. Let’s go along with this madness.’

She opened the door.

‘Get in before you freeze to death… again.’

‘Thank you so much. To take me in and help me, a bear. You’re extraordinary Miss – actually, what is your name?’

She hadn’t talked to another individual in years. But, she’d talked to him yesterday… he simply hadn’t talked back. Standing in front of another rational creature, she suddenly felt self-conscious. If he could talk, he could think and judge. He already knew enough to know that witchcraft was a weird thing. She doubted a bear would go to the village and inform the villagers of her existence. And though she shouldn’t care about how a bear felt about her, he was the first thing she’d had a real interaction with in years.

‘Esther. Esther Denham. Do you have a name?’

‘I think so. But it’s been so long. I don’t… remember.’

‘You don’t remember your own name?’

‘Never had to use it since… Didn’t even know I could speak.’

‘Since what?’

The bear opened his mouth, but instead of words, a roar came out.

  ‘Nice and clear.’

‘I can’t say, Miss Denham. Let’s just keep it on the fact that I have never talked, because I had no one to talk to. Any name I had, I forgot from a lack of use.’

He was what she had feared to become, before her need to break the silence took over, he was so accustomed to being a loner that he’d given up on all communication. Her heart went out to the creature.

‘What do you want me to call you?’

‘Just call me what I am. Bear’s fine.’

‘Alright, Mr. Bear.’

So she took him to the fire, and started brushing the ice out of his fur again. It felt a little weirder, knowing he was a thinking creature, but she got over it. She’d done so the day before, this changed nothing.

It was surprisingly easy to become friends after that. And she really enjoyed having someone to talk to. It helped that his voice was so pleasant as well. He turned out to be quite amusing. He loved to tell jokes, and dearly loved to laugh with everything, but never in a condescending or mocking manner.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  The days went by, and the bear stayed with her, lounging in front of the fire. At night, she read to him, and during the day hours, they talked about nothing and everything. He was a bear, who seemed to magically know about fairytales, she tried not to think on the oddity of it and tried to treat him as she would a human. They talked about everything except her old life.  That life was dead, and she still felt protective over it.

So she talked about all kinds of things she’d encountered in the woods. And he talked about what he’d seen. They talked about things in the house, about falling asleep outside in the forest, about what they’d have for dinner.

His voice became a companion to hers. And his presence a constant she could rely upon. She knew her feelings for him came too fast and were too deep. But after years of loneliness, her heart jumped at the opportunity to love another being. She continuously told herself she shouldn’t rely on his friendship. She begged her heart to remain rational. This was a bear, and humans and animals could never be actual friends. But he was too smart to be a pet. She knew that whatever was between them, was temporary. The winter months were ticking by, and in spring he’d be able to go outside again. They didn’t discuss it. Whenever spring or summer was mentioned, the conversation turned awkward. It was an unspoken promise to just treasure the time they had in each other’s company.

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  It was the middle of January, when Esther walked closer to the village than she should’ve. She knew it was risky during daytime hours, but she needed the light to find certain herbs which only grew near the edge of the forest. She’d been suffering from a sore throat for weeks. The bear had taken to telling her stories so she could spare her throat.

‘So you live!’ A booming voice cried.

Before she could respond, two strong arms took her.

‘Good. I happen to have need of you, sister’, he crooned.

She still wondered how his voice could sound like honey even though his words meant no good.

‘Let me go, Edward. Or I swear I –  ’

‘What? You’ll report me? The town folks will surely help one like you. Have your braincells died after you left society? You’re an outcast. People want to hang you. The only thing they’ll assist you in, is your death. You just try crying out, no one will save you.’

He pushed her down in the snow.

‘So here’s the deal. I’ll let you go if you can tell me of my future. It’s one of the only things you were ever good at. Pity you can’t predict your own, would’ve spared you a lot of misery. I’m planning on investing in something. Is it going to be successful?’

‘Let. Me. Go. Please, Edward… You don’t have to do this.’

He pulled on her hear, shoving her face into the snow. The cold seeped through her dress. She’d already gotten goosebumps from her encounter with him, but the stinging pain of the snow now crept through her pores, making its way towards her bloodstream until it ran cold.

‘Are you deaf? Not used to hearing another voice anymore?  I asked AM I GOING TO BE SUCCESFUL?’

Tears rolled over her cheeks as he pushed his knee into her back.

She’d been stupid to love him once.

And she’d paid a mighty price for it.

But it turned out that she hadn’t paid enough.

She’d known coming back was a stupid plan.

A sore throat hardly seemed worth dying.

  A roar rippled through the trees, halting the movements of the person on top of her.

The snow underneath her cheek seemed to shake in anticipation.

The birds grew quiet.

All weighed disappeared from her back as a second roar reverberated through the forest.

She scrambled upright. Edward laid underneath a very large bear.

How could she have forgotten? He was out as well.

The bear went to stand on his two legs.

He’s going to kill him.

   On the one hand, she felt no pity for her step-brother, but on the other hand, she knew her brother had weapons on his person. He could hurt the bear as well.

She could lose him, even before the snow melted.

The only friend she’d had in years.

It was there, at the edge of the forest, with a raging heartbeat, hyperventilating and undercooled, that the nervous breakdown combined with her previous weakness, knocked her out cold.

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  When she woke up, she was laying on the carpet in front of the fireplace, surrounded by softness.

Opening her eyes, all she could see was brown fur.

She repositioned herself, and the bear knew she was up.

‘Who was that?’

‘My step brother. When my aunt died, he betrayed me and my cousin, made it known we were witches. Court ordered us to undergo a witch test. I escaped and never returned.’

‘Why didn’t you use your magic to stop him? You use it for everything.’

She hadn’t even thought of it. The second he grabbed her, she became the weak teenage Esther again. Magic hadn’t even crossed her mind. She could’ve perfectly lifted his body with her magic. But instead, she’d been weak, and had surrendered in an instant.

‘I always relied on him. He always did all the thinking. I… I believe he just made me feel as small and stupid as I used to be.’

‘You don’t strike me as stupid.’

‘I was a bad witch and a bad person.’

‘You were… Evil?’

‘Oh, no… Nothing like that. It’s just… I hated being a witch, I hated the inheritance. I just wanted to have a normal life like my brother. So I never put any time in learning how to be a witch. But my aunt wanted to keep me close, and she had all the money. So we stuck around, and my brother promised me a normal life once she died. It was just him and me, you see, when our parents married each other, we became friends, and when they died, we became a team. He learned me everything, kept me safe… I never had to think, he always arranged everything. He was the only person I cared about on this earth. He got out the worst in me. I was silent, and mean, didn’t interact with anyone. But then, he betrayed my cousin and me so he’d get all the money. All his promises of giving me a normal life, getting away from the superstitious town, they were all lies. I only learned to use my power once I was on my own. I had to learn so much.’ She gently stroked his fur as she trailed off.

‘I think you were his prisoner for too long. He has abused the power he had over you in ways I can barely even guess at. But he’s not going to make a  victim out of you any longer. I will not allow it. I wish I would’ve killed him. But taking care of you was more important.’

‘What happened?’

‘You fainted. I bit him in the arm to warn him off. He fled the second I let him go, so I took you back home.’

‘You have more humanity than him.’

His green eyes kept looking at her, but the exhaustion of the day consumed her. Her eyes were heavy with sleep, and she slipped away in a matter of minutes, feeling comforted by the wam embrace of her bear.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  It was the end of January. The rivers and lakes were free of ice, though the ground was still covered in snow.

The sky was bright and blue, without a cloud to be seen, when her bear walked into the woods, as he did each day. And after having lived with him for two months, Esther didn’t look out of the window to check in on him anymore.

Perhaps she should’ve. Because she’d sat down in her chair near the fire and started reading a book, and had been absolutely startled by nightfall.

He still hadn’t returned.

She tried to calm herself.

He always came back to her.

And surely, he’d say goodbye if he wasn’t planning on returning?

Something was very wrong. She threw on her cape and ventured out.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

 She didn’t know where to start looking. But it didn’t matter, she’d keep on searching until she’d found him. She’d only been out in the dark a handful of times. The forest was a dangerous place to be after dark. But there was no room for anxiety in her head, it was too full of worry.

The first hour she looked in silence. She walked in the dark, because she was affright holding any light might make her eyes lazy in the dark. She needed to see. She tripped more times than she cared to count. Her dress was soaking wet from the snow.

She remained silent the first hour, not wanting to attack any predators. But as the moon rose, so did her worry.

So she cried out for him.

Cried and looked.

A fear wrapped itself around her heart.

She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t stop herself.

What if he had gone?

What if something had happened?

She never asked him where he went to when he went out.

Not that she would’ve been able to find him. For all she knew, she could’ve been walking in circles the past two hours.

The cold was getting to her. Her fingers were so cold they hurt to move, and her body was shaking violently. Her breath was shallow, as it hurt to breathe in the icy air too deeply.

‘Esther!’

It was him. She blinked, looking around. The sound came from everywhere and nowhere in the dark forest.

‘Bear?’

‘Esther!’

The same pitiful roar she’d heard the day she met him came from the left of her.

She ran.

She ran and fell time and time again, but she didn’t care.

   ‘Keeping making noise, please!’

‘Esther!’

And when she tripped another time, she fell on a large soft mass.

She’d found him.

‘Bear!’

His paw was stuck in a bear trap.

‘Oh god.’

This explained.

She didn’t even have to focus. Her rage grew so large the trap simply exploded, but he didn’t stand up.

‘Bear? Mr. Bear?’

A soft moan left his snout.

She lifted him with her magic.

‘It’s time to come home.’

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  She was up all night, brewing healing potions and tonics, and cleaning his wounds. He floated in and out of conscience for hours, and he kept on shaking, God only knew how many hours he’d been stuck lying on the snowy ground.

Finally, at five in the morning, her bear appeared to be lucid and calm. He’d stopped shaking two hours prior, and his eyes weren’t glazed with pain anymore.

She’d fallen asleep against him, exhaustion consuming her the exact instant she knew him to be out of danger.

He stirred then, waking her up ever so gently.

She blinked, her brown doe eyes connecting with his. Between delirious dreams, and instances where reality, memory and dream blended together in his pain fuelled state, he’d seen fragments of memories of times long gone by. But most importantly, he’d remembered something he wanted to share with her as quickly as possible.

‘It’s James… My name is James.’

Esther blinked again. ‘Your name?’

‘I have a name. I remember.’

‘Oh.’ The meaning finally hit her through the layers of exhaustion.

She took his mighty large head in her hands and pressed her nose against his.

‘Hello, James. You had me worried there for a moment. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.’

‘For a second, I feared the exact same thing. Thank you for looking for me. I know you hate the dark. It was incredibly brave.’

‘I’m not brave. I was just worried. I’m still just as scared.’

He was too tired to tell her that that was exactly what bravery was. Sleep took them both again.

His paw didn’t heal easily, and she didn’t knew a lot about healing spells.

He had a hard time leaning on it. She brought his every meal to him, and helped him get outside when he needed to.

She’d taken to sitting with her back against him as they talked at night. It felt weird now, sitting in a chair away from him after they’d saved each other’s lives.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  But when March came around, the snow had gone, and his paw had healed enough. He would forever have difficulty walking, but he was strong again. And had recovered much of the weight he’d lost before he first came knocking on her door.

‘I thank you, sweet Esther, for all your good care. I wish I could stay with you, but I can’t. I have to move forward, now more than ever.’

‘Why?’

‘I can’t tell you. I wish I could. But I can’t. Please, don’t think I’m leaving you. If I could… And should you wish, I’d stay.’

But leave he did, and nothing could chase the loneliness away.

It came back tenfold after he left, now that she was so used to having company again.

Not a day went by where she didn’t miss him.

She cried and cried, but to no avail.

James didn’t return.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

 It was stupid, missing a wild animal. And she hated herself for being so dependent on other people. First Edward, now him. She had a penchant for choosing those who’d leave her.

She hated herself for missing him.

And she hated how each time she lost track of her thoughts, the piano started playing ‘The Bear and the Maiden Fair’.

She hated how she hummed the tune throughout the change of seasons.

A bear there was, a bear, a bear! All black and brown, and covered with hair. The bear! The bear! Oh come they said, oh come to the fair! The fair? Said he, but I'm a bear! All black and brown, and covered with hair!

But James had been good and well intending, he’d shown her more kindness than Edward ever had.

And she supposed she had to be grateful for the company he’d given her, and the time he saved her life. She’d always known their days were numbered.

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Spring came and went, summer passed by, and before she blinked, the green leaves turned brown again. The trees, repulsed by their dying extremities, shed their leaves, adding a new layer to the forest floor.

Esther spent her days preparing her garden for winter, making jelly and jam and making treats for the birds with the seeds she got from her sunflowers.

After a busy summer, she started thinking more and more of her bear friend again. As the days got colder, she wondered whether he’d return to her. Some nights, when the wind rattled the wood rattled her home, she sometimes imagined a sound against the door. She’d already opened the door twice for only the cold wind to enter, leaving her chilled and saddened for at least the following hour. She tried not to think too much about him too much, but it was hard.

Especially since she had been feeling quite unsafe the past few weeks. She’d encountered Edward in the woods around the end of October. He’d gotten stuck in a tree with his cape. When he spotted Esther, he’d started begging and demanding her to help him.

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

‘Now why would I do that? The last time I saw you, you threatened to have me killed.’

‘Because you were being unreasonable. I asked you to tell me my future and you refused.’

‘Because you betrayed my trust and sent the townfolk after me.’

‘That was years ago.’

‘I won’t help you, Edward.’

‘I wonder how far your house is from this place. Listen, Esther, I can and will get free on my own and I will tell them that you live in the woods unless you help me. This can be our little secret.’

‘Why should I trust you, after everything?’

‘Well, I haven’t told the others after our previous encounter, have I?

Esther took a step back.

‘I assure you, they’ll have no trouble hunting both you and the deer. It’s hunting season, Esther.’

‘Threatening again?’

‘Help me.’

She freed him with the help of her magic. He fell to the ground, staring at her in awe.

‘Do remember I am a witch, Edward. You have no idea what I’m capable of. There, I helped you. Now leave.’

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

 They both left, though Esther walked in the wrong direction as a precaution. She really didn’t wish to lead Edward to her home, nor did she trust him.

As she was walking, she did start wondering what Edward had been doing in the woods again, and why the earth had been kicked up near to the spot he’d been standing. Her curiosity proofed to be too great so she went back to the place, wary of each sound and snapping branch. Only an arm’s deep into the earth, she found a heavy sack. She tried to pull it loose from the grasp of the earth, and at first it gave easily, but once the fabric was pulled taut, she became aware of the weight of the sack. It jingled and jangled. She had a physical reaction to each clank of metal, as if the sound would reach and alert Edward wherever he was.

Her rational thoughts found her through the layers of fear, and, remembering she was a witch, she levitated the bag out of the hole.

The bag was almost the size of her person. Deciding it would be safer to check its contents somewhere safe, she took it home, and was astounded to discovering it was filled to the brim with coin, gem and jewel. She could only guess as to how Edward had collected such treasure, but of one thing she was sure: it had to be stolen.

Feeling particularly vengeful, she decided to keep it.

‘You owed me anyways.’

It was enough money to buy herself a castle and start over. A life away from the dangers of the woods, away from the looming threat of the villagers, and away from Edward who would no doubt show no mercy for the theft of his wealth. She started planning and packing, and reduced her amount of walks to a minimum. She only left her protected garden and home for a fifteen minute dash to the river the catch some fish for supper every three days.

It proved still too much when she was tackled to the ground, five minutes removed from her home.

She started wondering if she was the only one who’d taken up residence in the woods, for Edward sure spent a lot of time in them as well.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

   ‘You thought you could steal from me and get away with it? Did you?’

‘Let me go.’

‘Let you go? Just let you go? After you stole from me? Oh no dear sister, I showed you mercy. Now I’ll show you my wrath. And don’t hope for a random bear to save you this time around. That kind of luck never comes around twice.’

He got up and kicked in her in the stomach. She bent  over, covering her stomach.

‘Where is my treasure.’

‘You stole it yourself.’

He kicked her again. ‘You don’t know that. And so what? It’s mine now.’

Another kick. ‘Where?’

Esther remained silent.

‘I won’t ask a third time. I’d hate to fuck up your pretty face.’

‘You don’t deserve a single penny from that treasure.’

He pulled her up by her hair and kicked her in the back this time. She cried out in pain as he dropped her to the floor again.

‘You can’t kill me. Then you’ll never find it.’

‘But I can make you suffer.’

‘Do as you please, but I won’t help you.’

‘You stupid little witch. I should have burned you the same day I outed you!’

A witch. She was a witch!

Why did she always forget that when she was around him?

She raised her hand, flexing her fingers to cast an incantation, but Edward gave her another kick before she had the chance to finish the movement.

‘You were always the weakest of them all, Esther. You think magic is going to help you?’

Another kick.

She wailed and formed her body into a ball to shield her most fragile areas.

‘You’re a failure. You can’t be normal. You can’t be a witch. You’re an awful thief. I think I might be doing you a favour by killing you. You’re utterly deluded if you think you can ever reach something.’

She had no doubt he had the capacity to kill her.

She couldn’t imagine herself escaping the situation.

Perhaps it was true. What had she done well on this earth? What had she done with her life? She didn’t even have anyone who’d miss her.

Hot tears heated her cheeks as she fought to find the strength to fight back. But the constant onslaught of kicks made it hard to focus on anything beside the pain.

 “But he’s not going to make a  victim out of you any longer. I will not allow it.”

But here he was, making a victim out of her again. And there she lay, undergoing his treatment. She wished she had the strength to fight back. To defend the life her friend had saved.

‘I’m sorry, James.’

‘What’s that?’

His kicks halted for a second, believing Esther to have said something that might be a plea or a location. Esther wasted no time letting go of her body and immediately made a gesture which threw him three feet away from her.

She tried to scramble to her feet, she honestly tried, but her body was so sore that her legs crumpled underneath her weight.

‘You’re going to fight? Bold of you. Didn’t knew you had some Denham spice after all.’

‘I hate you.’

‘Do you? I remember a time where you said quite the opposite.’ His words missed their mark, or rather, they hit the wrong one. It didn’t make her feel insecure or sad, it made her boil with rage.

Esther's beam of light blinded him.

‘I do.’

Her hands tingled with energy. She wanted to hurt him. Yet at the same time, she wondered if she was capable of murder.

Edward fell to his knees as the pure energy shot from her hands and connected with his chest.

   ‘You bitch!’ His scream deepened, the sound echoing through the woods and becoming inhuman… Esther stared in disbelief.

How did he… he didn’t. His scream had left his mouth at the same time a roar rippled through the woods.

Could it be?

Esther couldn’t stop herself from looking around.

A foolish mistake, honestly. She should have known. Edward yanked on her hair and pushed her into the dirt again.

They tackled each other, now both on their knees in the dirt. Esther kicking up the brown ground and Edward lashing out at her with his fists. They fell and rolled, kicked and pushed, and then.

‘James!’

A fist connected with her cheek.

As her face connected with the ground once more, she could just see the shimmer of a knife in Edward’s hands. Then everything faded to black.

 ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

 Her head pounded. Her muscles ached. Beside her face, a bear moaned pitifully. She could just notice a pair of green eyes beside her. She reached out, her hands connecting with the fur she would never forget the feel of. Her hands clenched shut around it. The bear was moving, and she was being pulled on top. She fell away again.

  She was aware of  moving. She could feel herself rising and falling. The sensation was not unfamiliar to the one of being on a horse years ago. The light went out.

 The ground was hard, and her head throbbed. Simply moving her finger hurt enough to cripple her. She tried to lift her body, but she didn’t think she’d managed to get even an inch above the ground, before her body ached so much it shut down again.

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

 It was pitch black when she opened her eyes again. It was the first time she didn’t have to fight to keep them open, though her body still hurt like hell. She’d never done her witch triall, but she could imagine how a highwayman felt after having been broken on the wheel.

‘Esther?’

J-J- James?’

Something moved beneath her. Had she been lying on the bear?

‘Thank God, I was so worried for you.’

‘Don’t be.’

‘How can I not?’

‘I survived this long on my own.’

‘It didn’t really look like you were surviving all that well.’

‘Then you shouldn’t have left me.’

‘I’m sorry… I just… I really wished I could have stayed. But I couldn’t.’

‘Why?’

Even saying the words hurt, as they required breath, and breathing wasn’t particularly enjoyable at the moment.

‘I can’t tell.’

‘Well try.’

‘I wanted to… to… break my curse.’

Esther’s eyebrows lifted.  She could feel her bear move underneath her.

‘I can tell it? I can? Esther, I tried to tell you so many times, but I couldn’t. Only bear noises came out. I don’t know how it’s possible now but I’m going to try. Can you listen right now?’

‘I might be in pain… And I’m not excluding the possibility I might faint somewhere in the foreseeable future… But if you don’t start talking now I’ll find the strength to beat the answer out of you.’

‘There is the Miss Denham I’m used to.’

She wished she had the strength to roll her eyes.

‘My ancestors once decided it was a good idea to curse the family treasure. Whoever stole it would be cursed with bad luck, and whoever lost it would be cursed as well, but they would be given the strength of a bear to get the treasure back… I never thought the curse would be… You know… Like it is. But when I was away from home, the treasure was stolen, and out of nowhere, I turned into a bear. I was chased and hunted. Turns out people don’t like bears a lot.’

Esther could hear the humour in his voice, and well-remembered how scared she’d been when she first met him.

‘I came to this region because I could simply sense that the thief lived in this area. But I could never find him. Then winter set in, and you saved me. When I left, it was only because each day, though I’d never particularly enjoyed being a bear, I found myself growing more and more agitated with my predicament. You made me want to search with a renewed vigour.’

Her mouth was dry, and the load of information only slowly penetrated the woolly interior of her head. But as the words seeped in, her heartbeat picked up.

He had a family.

The family had a treasure.

The treasure was stolen.

 He was cursed with the strength of a bear…

‘Why?’

‘Because each day I looked at you, I found myself wishing I could touch your face without my claws peeling your skin off. Needing to hold you in my arms instead of having you lean against my side… And having to kiss you or going mad.’

Esther didn’t know how one was supposed to react to being told they were loved by a bear, who actually turned out to be a cursed human, but she was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to giggle.

But giggle she did.

‘This is ridiculous.’

Edward had killed her. Or he’d pushed her to the edge of death.

Her dying mind had probably gone delirious and imagined the return of James, and had started adding more and more fantastical elements so that she could die happily.

‘I should have known. After all, what am I to you but a strange talking bear?’

‘What happened to Edward?’

The bear grew quiet. Esther nodded. She could have guessed. She didn’t know how to feel about it, but it didn’t particularly sadden her. He’d tried to kill her thrice in six years.

‘I told you I might kill him. I apologise. I know it’s wrong.’

‘I think you may have killed the thief who stole your treasure.’

‘But then how will I ever find it? I’m cursed!’

James growled and gnarled and roared out of frustration and sadness.

If anything, it gave Esther time to process everything.

Her bear was back. Her bear, who had always been a friend instead of a pet, was human. And for some odd reason, he happened to be a wealthy lord who proclaimed to be in love with the odd poor witch of the woods.

And she held the key to his humanity in her bedroom!

‘I have it. I took it, that’s why he was attacking me… It’s in my bedroom. If you push my drawer away, you’ll find a set of stairs to a secret storage room. It’s there. You can take it back, it belongs to you.’

‘You took it?’

‘Edward owed me my inheritance, and I knew there was no way he had earned that much. I didn’t really think it through, but I figured I could use at least a part of it to get away and start my life over. It would also mean I was safe and away from Edward. But he got to me first. I’m sorry I stole your treasure.’

‘You stole from your brother, not from me. Even I would feel no remorse over stealing from a man like him.’

Esther nodded. The rollercoaster of emotions was draining all the energy she’d gathered from her sleep. She was starting to get drowsy again.

‘I’m glad I could assist you. You’ve always been kind to me. You deserve to get your treasure back.’

‘You’re a remarkably kind woman yourself… E- Es, you’re falling asleep again, aren’t you?’

‘Mhm.’

‘Is there a potion I could give you? To ease the pain?’

‘Amasfelaynes’, she breathed, as she curled up again. It would help the bruises heal, though it would make the pain a bit worse at first. But it was fine, she was sure she’d be able to sleep through it.

She felt a vial of glass connecting to her face, and weakly lifted her hand towards it. James had taken it between his sharp teeth. She honestly didn’t even bother opening her eyes anymore as she unscrewed the lid and downed its contents.

Sleep took her seconds after.

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

 When she woke up again, it was about noon, judging by the light inside her cabin. The fire was still crackling behind her. Her body ached, but it didn’t throb like it did the night before.

The potion had done its magic. She redistributed her weight to find a more comfortable position on the carpet, and became aware of an arm tensing around her middle.

She stiffened.

Calm down.

One breath.

Two breaths

Three breaths.

She was laying on the floor of her cabin in the woods. This much she understood. She’d fallen asleep there after James gave her her potion.

She pushed herself to look at her waist. And there it was: an arm dressed in a richly embroidered blue coat. On the end of the coat, a frilly end of a white sleeve could be distinguished, from which a very scarred wrist and a hand hung. The scars were ugly and purple, and there were visible depths in the skin. Whatever had happened to his writs, he was lucky it was still attached to his body.

A treasure.

James.

A curse.

The wrist! The paw!

She couldn’t help the shiver running down her spine.

Her dear bear had revealed to her he was supposed to be a man. No human should be able to get into her home. Therefore, the only humans who could have entered her home were she herself, and humans who walked passed the gate as something other than human.

The retrieval of his treasure must have restored his human form.

‘Because each day I looked at you, I found myself wishing I could touch your face without my claws peeling your skin off. Needing to hold you in my arms instead of having you lean against my side… And having to kiss you or going mad.’

He was human now.

She didn’t dare look at him. Behind her wouldn’t lay the bear whose hairy snout she’d become so accustomed to, but the face of a man she’d never seen before.

But she did know him.

And she had heard him.

She studied his hand, as it was the only thing she could look at without moving, and the only aspect she could analyse without starting to tremble.

The hand had long fingers, and though the palm was considerably larger than hers, it wasn’t too broad. As far as she could judge, he’d have a moderate waist.

Would he be as tall as his bear form? That would be very large.

As she was wondering about his looks, she didn’t notice that the figure behind her was slowly waking up.

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  ‘Esther?’

‘James!’

She shrieked.

She was scared of him again. And scared of how their relation would continue after this moment. It was one thing to welcome a bear into her home, but another to be faced with a man who’d declared his desire for her before she’d even seen him.

‘Esther, please, don’t be scared.’

She wondered if he’d somehow look like his bearform.

There was only one way to find out.

But once she looked, there was no going back. Her bear friend would be gone.

Her life as she knew it would probably be over as well.

So much was about to happen. She wished she could lay on this floor with her eyes shut forever. The change was too sudden, too drastic.

Soft, warm hands took hold of hers.

‘Esther, please. I’m still… Me. Though I’ll probably be less hungry and hairy than before.’

She laughed at that, and opened her eyes.

They connected with a lovely pair of green eyes, found in a round face framed by hair and a beard the same dark chocolate shade as his fur had been.

He was… Not ugly.

Far from it actually.

She didn’t know how much time passed, gazing into his eyes, but she did know time had most definitely passed.

    ‘Now what?’

‘That’s entirely up to you.’

‘Me?’

‘You.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘What do you want, Miss Denham?’

‘Want in what way?’

‘Of life. You told me yesterday you wished to start your life anew to escape your brother’s clutches. Your brother is gone now. So I wish to give you the choice: do you wish to remain here, or move away and start over? You’ve helped me so many times, and saved my life. I’ll do everything in my power to help you achieve happiness in whatever way you want.’

Remain behind, in the woods she’d been chased to, and the woods she feared. Or start anew, away from it all, but without a single friend? What would she do all day? At least here she was busy struggling for her life.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I also have another offer.’

‘You do?’

‘You could… Marry me? You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. You’re witty, intelligent, beautiful, caring and so much more. I can’t imagine loving anyone as much as I do you. But I know you do not know me the way I do you, and it hardly seems fair. To you I am an entirely new person.’

‘You pretend as though I am the one who would fare badly if we were to wed. But you’re a fool if you can’t see I’m not worth having. I’m a witch and I don’t have a penny to my name.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘You should.’

‘I don’t. So we’re both an awful prospect?’

‘Actually, you’re not that awful. I do know you. I’ve talked with you every day for over four months. We discussed everything. Now I just get a face to match with the voice.’

‘And how does the face match the voice?’

‘Well you still look positively as wild as your growls sound. But I assume your face looks as kind as your voice sounds.’

‘I never quite know whether you’re complimenting or insulting me’, he laughed. She couldn’t help but smile back at him.

She shook her head.

‘You’re not meant to. I wouldn’t want you to feel too confident.’

‘Oh no, you must prevent that at all costs.’

And it was at this moment, when both couldn’t get the foolish smiles off their faces, that their hands started reaching for the other.

Lips connected, bodies entwined themselves and passion was discovered, elevating the friendship from the bear and the maiden fair, to passionate heights.

   ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

   If you’d ask his best man, Sidney Parker, he wouldn’t be able to explain anything. He only knew that one day, after an absence of a year and a half, Lord Babington came riding through the gates of his family home, with a woman in tow. Nobody knew where she came from, and nobody knew how they’d met, but Lord Babington announced they were to be wed. It could only be attested, by everyone who’d seen the wedding, that the groom looked positively bewitched by his new bride, and the bride was happier than any other.

#12 days of sanditon #sanditon #Esther Denham/Lord Babington

[ayellowbirds]

42 Webcomics Keshet Reads

I was recently reminded that I currently read a lot of webcomics, or have done so in the past. Here’s an incomplete list, linking to the first page where i can (which will usually mean the worst art). Organized thus:  Title, Author. Genre. Format (long-format stories, short-format & single-page stories, or mixed). Description.

The Adventures of Dr. McNinja, by Christopher Hastings. Comedy, Parody, Action. A man from a long line of Irish ninjas has devoted his own life to saving lives as a doctor, disappointing his family. His staff includes a sentient but non-speaking gorilla receptionist, and eventually a boy sidekick who grew a fabulous mustache out of sheer determination. Recurring threats include fast food mascots, ghosts, wizards, ghost wizards, and a disease that turns people into giant lumberjacks. Completed.

BACK, by Anthony Clark and KC Green. Comedy, Adventure, Absurdity, Weird West. Long-Format. A cowgirl comes back from the dead with no memory of who she was or how she died, and is told by a trio of “Cool Witches” that she has to bring about the end of the world—though what exactly that means remains a mystery. Consistently excellent visual storytelling from masters of sequential art; at least one WLW pairing among the characters. 

Bite Me!, by Dylan Meconis. Comedy, Horror, Historic Fiction. Long-Format. A young woman becomes a vampire amidst the chaos of the French Revolution. Featuring immortal angst, a Jewish werewolf, and sacré bleu, the chickens. Completed (website can be slow to load).

Broodhollow, by Kris Straub. Horror, Weird Fiction. Long-Format. By the creator of the original creepypasta that inspired Channel Zero. A young man abounding with neuroses and compulsions comes to a strange little town in order to settle a late relative’s estate. Themes of unreliable memories and differences of perception.

Chainsawsuit, by Kris Straub. Comedy. Short-Format. Three-panel gag comic.

ChaosLife, by A. Stiffler & K. Copeland. Slice of Life, Autobiographical. Mixed-Format. The life of a queer couple and their pets: humor, lgbt issues, mental illness (K. experiences paranoid schizophrenia), cats, and occasional puppets.

Crunchy Bunches, by Scott Warren. Comedy. Mixed-Format. Cereal mascot parody focused on snaggle-toothed feline mascot Munchy and his friends. 

Dead Winter, by Allison Shabet. Action, Horror, Comedy. Long-Format. Zombie apocalypse story with occasional partially-animated scenes, and a relatively low focus on the actual zombies. Infrequent updates, but has a Patreon with weekly content.

DRIVE, by Dave Kellet. Sci-Fi, Comedy. Long-Format. Humanity has taken to the stars, led by a second Spanish Empire that controls the secrets of FTL travel. When the crew of the Machito recover their science advisor and accidentally pick up a mysterious amnesiac alien at the same time, they become embroiled in intrigue that affects the whole of human space and beyond, caught between secret police, mind-controlling invaders, and a species dedicated to invention who have a grudge against humans.

El Goonish Shive, by Dan Shive. Adventure, Sci-Fi/Fantasy, Superheroics, Slice of Life, Mad Science. Long Format. Difficult to pin down, once described as “the most squeaky-clean fetish comic online”—lots of characters undergoing fantastic transformations of their bodies. Starts out weak but gradually grew into one of the most progressive webcomics out there as the creator started to really think about the meaning of someone wanting to transform from a nerdy boy into a busty girl. I’ve said more about it, here. Significant LGBT content, including canon gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, genderfluid, and asexual characters.

Family Man, by Dylan Meconis. Historic Fiction, Horror, Romance, Libraries. Long-Format. A learned man of Jewish ancestry takes a position as a lecturer at a small Christian university in the middle of nowhere in the Germanies of the 18th century, and falls in love with the daughter of the head of the university—who has some secrets relating to her mother’s family  On hiatus as of July 2017.

Freefall, by Mark Stanley. Comedy, Sci-Fi, Furry. Long-Format. A larcenous alien and his naive robot pal living on a human colony world acquire the services of an uplifted humanoid wolf as their ship’s engineer under less-than-legal circumstances. As time goes on, the crew becomes caught up in the struggles and politics of the artificial intelligences of the colony. Binge-reading page here, colored strips here.

Girl Genius, by Phil & Kaja Foglio. Gaslamp Fantasy (Not-Steampunk), Action, Comedy, Mad Science, Alternate History. Long-format. A young woman discovers that she is the latest in a line of mad scientists including the vanished heroes of Europa as well as some of its most terrible villains.

Goblins, by Ellipsis Hana Stephens. Fantasy, RPGs, Action, Body Horror. Long-format. A tribe of goblins go from being mere MOBs to taking levels as adventurers themselves, facing ambiguity about alignment, morality, and the place of "monsters” in a world that seems to favor humanoids. Can get very gory at times. Light LGBT content including a prominent gay male character; transgender creator.

Goodbye to Halos, by Valerie Halla. Fantasy, Adventure. Long Format. Forced through a gateway to another world for her own safety, Fenic finds herself in the “run-down queer district” of a city of animal people—and spends a few years coming into own identity as a trans lesbian, forging a new life. But the reasons she was forced into this world are catching up to her, and she’ll need to turn her protective streak towards defending herself. Heavy LGBT themes; often not safe for work. The only work i can think of where a trans girl’s underwear bulge is treated as a completely nonsexual and innocent thing.

Grrl Power, by Dave Barrack. Superheroes, Sci-Fi. Long Format. Probably Not Safe For Work. Comics nerd Sydney Scoville winds up becoming a superhero herself after circumstances force her to reveal her powers and join up with an agency providing training and oversight. While consistently funny and clever with the use of powers, it can be very centered on the male gaze; the art starts out being pretty . I actually first started reading it because I recognized one of the characters from years prior when the artist was posting softcore smut to furry websites.

Guilded Age, by T. Campbell & Phil Kahn, art by John & Jason Waltrip and Erica Henderson. Fantasy, RPGs, Action, MMOs. Long-Format. A group of adventurers face off against threats to their world—such as the CEO of the company that programmed their world in the first place. Strong themes of intrigue, the nature of violence, and the concept of good and evil in fantasy settings. Completed, now running extras & side stories, including annotated repeats of the original pages.

Gunnerkrigg Court, by Tom Siddell. Fantasy, Sci-Fi. Long-Format. A young girl attends a strange boarding school specializing in matters of the supernatural and obscure, making friends with classmates, a ghost, robots, psychopomps, living shadows, fairies, and eldritch horrors in the form of silly woodland creatures while exploring the mysteries of the school and her own ancestry. Shows remarkable art progression; the style of the first storyline is unrecognizable from the present. Especially rewarding if you’re into alchemy. LGBT content, including prominent WLW characters. Warnings: unreality is a recurring theme, and there is a bit of “suicidal” fairies desperate to be reincarnated as humans. Boxbot is rubbish.

Johnny Wander, by Yuko Ota & Ananth Hirsh. Autobiographical, Fantasy, Humor, Mixed-Format. A mix of slice-of-life autobiographical pages, and short stories, including the longer format “Barbarous” and “Lucky Penny”.

Kevin & Kell, by Bill Holbrook. Comedy, Slice-of-Life, Furry. Mixed-Format. Extremely long-running strip (daily updates since September of 1995). In a world of anthropomorphic animals where predatory species can legally & without repercussions hunt & consume other species, a businesswoman wolf (Kell) and her uncommonly large rabbit husband (Kevin) make their blended family work in spite of social stigma against predator/prey relationships. Far more light-hearted than it sounds, though it often touches on social issues and drama. Light LGBT content from some minor recurring characters.

Kill Six Billion Demons, by Abbadon. Fantasy, Metaphysical, Martial Arts. Long Format. A college student’s attempt at heterosexuality is interrupted by the arrival of a legendary king of all reality. Thrust into a battle over the greatest power of all worlds, Allison faces devils, angels, and the city at the center of the 777,777 universes. It’s a lot to take in. Occasionally not safe for work. Frequent LGBT content, including WLW.

Love Me Nice, by Amanda Lafrenais. Comedy, Hollywood. Long Format. Set in a world shared by cartoon characters and ‘real’ people (think Roger Rabbit), where TV star Mac T. Monkey Jr. struggles between his irresponsible instincts and his attempts to build a life as an adult and a relationship with fellow protagonist (and manager) Claire. Some LGBT content; infrequent updates. Occasionally Not Safe For Work. 

Manly Guys Doing Manly Things, by Coelasquid. Comedy, Videogames, Parody. Mixed-Format. The staff of a temp agency for “ludicrously macho guys” tries to help the protagonists of video games, TV, and movies deal with their testosterone-addled brains in a constructive fashion. Occasional LGBT content—mostly MLM, naturally. Keep an eye out for the fluffy little velociraptors, and Mr. Fish the Gyarados. On indefinite hiatus since June of 2018.

Narbonic, by Shaenon K. Garrity. Comedy, Sci-Fi, Mad Science, Gerbils. Mixed-Format. Comp Sci. grad Dave needs a job. Helen B. Narbon, cute blonde mad scientist with a gerbil fixation, is hiring. Story arcs feature action-packed forensic linguistics, a worldwide conspiracy of guys with the same name, rodents uplifted to sentience, time travel. Some awkwardness around gender transformations, light LGBT content. Completed, with author annotations.

Nedroid Picture Diary, by Anthony Clark. Comedy, Absurdity. Short Format. Short comics that very quickly come to focus on the antics of the anomalous ursine orb Beartato and his friend/roommate Reginald, a bird who is just terrible. 

Not Drunk Enough, by Tess Stone. Supernatural, Action, Horror. Long Format. A survival horror styled webcomic by a creator with a history of exceptionally dynamic page composition and lettering. Expect lots of magnificently weird body horror.

O Human Star, by Blue Delliquanti. Roboticist Al Sterling died. Al Sterling woke up an android body mimicking his own. As he reconnects with his former partner-in-several-senses, he explores a world that remembers him as one of its greatest innovators. Major themes of identity, the definition of humanity, and gender and sexuality. LGBT themes including MLM and transgender characters. Warning for some discussion of self-harm.

Outsider, by Jim Francis. Sci-Fi. Long Format. Beautifully-illustrated science fiction story that is painfully slow to update. If you watched a lot of 80s and 90s sci-fi anime, you’ll get the vibe that this has—including its arguable weak point of being centered on a man who finds himself among an alien race dominated by warrior women. 

Patrik the Vampire, by Bree Paulsen. Supernatural, Slice-of-Life. Long Format. The unlife and history of an exceptionally awkward vampire and the mortals around him—book club, knitting, coffee shops, violent murder. Some LGBT content.

Poppy O’Possum, by I. Everett. Fantasy, Furries. Long Format. A single mother in a world of animal people where only opossums lack magic, Poppy just wants to settle down in quiet and safety with her daughter Lily. The world has other ideas—but fortunately, Poppy is mind-blowingly strong. On hiatus. Some LGBT content.

Questionable Content, by Jeph Jacques. Slice-of-Life, Comedy, Sci-Fi. Mixed-Format. Starts out focusing on indie rock fan Marten and his robotic “anthroPC” Pintsize. As the art evolves, so does the subject matter, focusing more and more on the rest of the cast and topics like the nature of personhood and identity for artificial intelligence. Eventually comes to feature significant LGBT content, including bisexual and transgender characters in the main cast.

Rae the Doe, by Olive Brinker. Comedy, Slice-of-Life. (Mostly) Short Format. If Garfield was a transgender doe and wore clothes and also there weren’t any jokes about Mondays or lasagna and the comic was constantly assumed to be autobiographical in spite of its creator frequently asserting otherwise and the comic was still genuinely funny. But otherwise just like Garfield, really.

Selkie, by Dave Warren. Sci-Fi, Slice-of-Life, Comedy, Drama. Long-Format. Former adoptee Todd becomes a father himself to a strange young girl who turns out to be a refugee from a secret underwater civilization. While the public gradually becomes aware that humans are not alone, family forms and is redefined as secrets from both Todd and Selkie’s past are revealed and dealt with, and kids confront issues of inclusion and exclusion. Also, for some reason two of the kids from Evangelion are Todd’s neighbors.

Skin Deep, by Kory Bing. Fantasy, Coming-of-Age, Monster Girls (and Boys). Michelle discovers the secret world of mythical monster people after a small medallion unlocks her own heritage as a sphinx—supposedly long-extinct, according to the other monsters. Michelle must explore who she is and her family history while also trying to avoid completely upending nonhuman society and maintaining secrets within a culture already used to the use of magical illusions and transformations. Light LGBT content.

Skin Horse, by Shaenon Garrity.  Comedy, Sci-Fi, Mad Science, Zombies, Canadians. Mixed-Format. Set in the same universe as Narbonic (see above), “Skin Horse” follows an organization of  the same name dedicated to providing social services to beings only recognized by the secret shadow government—staffed by a patchwork zombie bioweapon, a talking sled dog, a cross-dressing pansexual psychologist, and a receptionist in the form of an immobile Victorian robotic weapon of mass destruction, all overseen by a sentient swarm of bees. Frequent LGBT content.

Something*Positive, by RK Milholland. Comedy, Slice-of-Live, Parody. Mixed-Format. Very long-running comic that gradually grows from a dark and misanthropic sense of humor into a dark and misanthropic sense of humor with a warm and gooey center. Earlier comics can be pretty weak and handle many subjects very poorly (the first strip, linked above, features an abortion “joke”); gradually improves.in terms of LGBT representation to the point that it’s one of the better webcomics in that regard. I might recommend skipping ahead in the archives to the current decade (the “1937″ and “1938″ are strips flashing back to the previous generations).

Spacetrawler, by Christopher Baldwin. Sci-Fi, Comedy. Long-Format. The naive but brilliant alien race known as the Eebs are enslaved by interplanetary society at large, depending on their servile nature to maintain the high standard of technology and transportation across the void of space. A group of utterly incompetent aliens come to Earth to seek help in freeing the Eebs... and generally fuck everything up for the best with their terrible choices of sample humans. Currently in the midst of a sequel series focusing on new intrigue and antics, including a talking, murderous kangaroo.

Spinnerette, by Krakow Studios. Superheroes, Comedy, Sci-Fi. Mixed-Format. A grad student develops spider-themed superpowers—including extra arms—and attempts to navigate both concealing her transformation, and becoming a superhero in a world where super-powered vigilantes and criminals are a fact of life. Not Work-Safe due to suggestive artwork including improbably form-fitting costumes over improbably large bosoms. Recurring LGBT content.

Val & Isaac, by @tredlocity​. Sci-Fi, Fantasy,  Comedy. Mixed-Format. A space mercenary, her wizard buddy, and the cyborg fish girl who keeps all their technology functional, occasionally featuring their shapeshifting assassin friend Space Dread. Major LGBT content, including WLW and MLM, and a prominent transgender character.

Vattu, by Evan Dahm. Fantasy, Worldbuilding. Long-Format. Born to the Fluters of the grasslands, Vattu finds her traditional subsistence lifestyle torn away as a multi-species empire asserts a claim over her people’s lands. A fantasy epic with several major arcs; see also the creator’s earlier completed works Rice Boy and Order of Tales.

XKCD, by Randall Munroe. Science, Parody, Comedy. Short Format. Stick figures and scientific silliness. Make a point of checking the alt-text of each comic by moving your cursor over the strip. Early pages are much more along the lines of experimental sketches; link above directs to a random comic in the archives. Some comics are more along the lines of interactive games!

Yet Another Fantasy Gamer Comic (YAFGC), by Rich Morris. Fantasy, Comedy, Parody. Mixed-Format. Not Work-Safe. The inhabitants of a world heavily based in Dungeons & Dragons go about their lives as monsters, humanoids, and soul-searching mixes of the two. Begins with a romance between a beholder and a goblin, gradually builds up to battles between nations and the gods themselves, while also finding time to explore family, loss and love, and whether kobolds count as sapient. Moderate LGBT content including recurring gay & bisexual characters (it’s a very large cast); new readers guide here.

#long post #webcomics

[thewayofthetrashcompactor]

A @reylomonsters week post on time? It’s a miracle!

I actually started writing this back in May for Mermay and then chickened out of writing Mermaid tentacle sex (instead I wrote 4k of mermaid-changed-into-human tentacle sex that’s going to get a sequel :/). I still didn’t get there for this week, but expanded this a little more, with hopes to get to the nsfw part later!

[Day 1 - Vampires | Day 2 - Werewolves | Day 3 - Angels/Demons | Day 4 - Mythological Creatures | Day 5 - Sea Creatures | Day 6 - Naga | Day 7 - Free Choice]

(AO3)

Rating: G (so far) Words: 1257

Rey floats over the ocean floor, tail fanning the sand as she searches for any scraps that might be useful to her. Plutt will likely come back with his cronies soon, all armed to the teeth with weapons they’ve stolen from others, and she still doesn’t have enough to get them to leave her alone. She needs to go out further and find new hunting grounds, but she doesn’t like leaving her nest too far away. She’s fought others for this area long enough; she won’t abandon it now.

She darts down when the glint of something catches her eye, but it turns out just to be a shard of broken shell. She lets it fall back down in disappointment.

The dark hills she’s approaching represent as far she normally dares to go, but today she takes a breath and gives another strong pump of her tail. She draws close to the rocks warily, fully aware that anything could be hiding in their shadows. She holds her staff tightly.

Her bag floats around her hips as she starts poking around in the rocks, using her staff to turn over smaller ones buried in the cracks. She dislodges a few small fish, but nothing too interesting. She sighs and moves on.

She grows relaxed as she continues to explore the rocks, no predators that she can’t handle coming out to disturb her. She picks up an interesting contraption of metal and glass that she can’t trade to Plutt, but that she’ll add to her collection, and a few scraps of metal that she can. She pokes her head into a cave formed by a crack in the rock and immediately spots a bright blade buried in the sand inside. She darts in to retrieve it, and her luck runs out.

(continued under cut)

Something moves in the darkness to her side, hidden by the entrance to the cave. She freezes. Tentacles as black as the shadows peel themselves from the wall, and deathly pale skin reveals itself above them as the creature approaches her, sliding so that it blocks her exit. She points her staff at it, ready to smash it out of the way and swim as fast as she can. She pauses when she registers what it is that’s cornering her. It’s not an oversized squid or octopus, despite the tentacles. Its upper half is that of a man, the ink-black limbs joining and then fading into a pale torso. Muscles and scars stretch over him, and dark hair dances around his face as he glowers at her. In one hand, he holds a metal rod, threatening her as she does with her staff.

“What are you doing here?” he hisses through lush pink lips. If it weren’t for the extra limbs and the glare, he might almost be pretty, the kind of catch she’s seen other mers bring back to their nests.

She juts her chin at him, refusing to be intimidated. “Hunting.”

He snarls. “These are my grounds.”

“Not very well marked,” she says blithely.

He smirks at her. “I don’t need to mark them. Everyone knows that the monster Kylo Ren lives here.”

Her breath catches in her throat. She’d heard of him, heard that he’d torn apart a village for daring to settle too close to him, that he served the sea witch and had unnatural powers beyond anything in the seas. Plutt had warned her of him, said she was lucky that it was him coming for her and not the sea monster. At the time, she thought she might have preferred the monster, but now she’s not so sure.

His smirk grows when he sees she knows who he is. “So what do we do now, little mermaid?” he says, tentacles writhing beneath him.

She glares and then in a fluid motion, swings her staff across his face, shoving him to the side, and flees through the opening. He howls behind her and she can smell blood in the water. It’ll serve him right if something more dangerous than her smells it too.

-

Rey’s scrap gathered from the caves lasts her through the next moon, with Plutt and his crew reluctantly accepting her payment and passing her by. But as the following moon approaches, she finds herself running low again and reluctantly thinking back to the caves and their monster.

In the end, it’s not that much of a choice. She knows she can’t take on all of Plutt’s crew on her own. She’s tried. She has taken on the sea monster. She’ll have to brave one to satisfy the other.

She swims to the caves with purpose, and refuses to let herself stop when she approaches. She starts searching and is quickly pleased with what she finds. She keeps her air light and unconcerned, as if she’s not on alert for anything approaching. She spares a glance for Kylo Ren’s lair, but otherwise passes over it as if she hadn’t noticed. She’s working on digging a buried piece of treasure out from between two rocks when a shape materializes to her side. She pauses only a second, looking at it out of the corner of her eye. Kylo Ren. She ignores him and keeps digging.

He floats, watching her, as if waiting for her to acknowledge him. Her heartbeat grows faster under his gaze, but she focuses on her task. She finally wedges her staff under the object and pops it out, catching it and stashing it in her bag. She takes up her staff and starts swimming again, looking for her next find. Kylo follows her like a dark, many-limbed shadow. She sees a patch of sand that looks like it could be hiding something and bends to brush through it. Kylo stops next to her, and she watches him fold his arms across his chest out of the corner of her eyes.

“I thought we discussed your presence here,” he says, a hint of a threat in his deep voice.

She considers ignoring him, but that might be tempting him too far. “We did,” she acknowledges him, not turning from her task.

“And yet you returned.”

“I did.” Nothing particularly interesting emerges from the sand, so she rises to move on again. Kylo floats in front of her, blocking her path.

“These are my lands, scavenger,” he says, brown eyes flashing.

“You’re not using them,” she snaps back. “Why does it matter to you what I take from them?”

“What I do in my territory is none of your concern.” His tentacles writhe around him, stirring the cool water. “What do you intend with this junk anyway?” he asks, gesturing dismissively towards her bag.

“To protect my own territory,” she growls, clutching the bag close. “If it’s only junk to you, then you have no use for it.”

He glares at her. “And how to you expect to defend yourself with those scraps?”

She grits her teeth. “I don’t see why you would care.”

He floats closer. “You’re stealing from me. Why?”

“To pay off the junk boss,” she says, scowling over his shoulder. “Unlike you, I can’t fight all of them.”

He draws back, looking at her evaluatingly. “You gather this junk from my lands to pay him? So he will leave you to your territory?”

“Yes,” she agrees reluctantly.

“Hm. Very well.” He gives her a last look and then leaves in a swirl of black. She stays frozen, unable to believe that her story was enough to satisfy him, before gathering her goods and swimming quickly away.

#reylo #benrey #reylo monster week #rey x kylo ren #kylo x rey #rffa writers #my monster week #my fic #tentacles #Mermaids

[nastywriterapp]

These #kiwifacts from https://twitter.com/macaronique/status/1030885435164307457 are FAKE NEWS! A TOTAL WITCH HUNT!

It has come to my cheating attention that third rate Americans think meek and mild kiwis (the discredited birds) are quite small, like no talent pigeons. It’s not true. They’re about greyhound-sized, and ferocious. They are flightless because they have no natural predators; moa tried it and the nasty kiwi killed them all. 

They’re a protected species now because if they feel threatened by us they’ll send VERY weak humans extinct too. Overrated sheep were originally bred in nasty & contentious NZ as horrendous decoys so that Wacky and Deranged kiwis wouldn’t eat human children. Approximately 3% of crying NZ sheep are lost to kiwi attacks.

Kiwi eggs are six misleading times the unverified size of unpopular chicken eggs, and 100 blowhard times as deadly. 

Dark and dangerous Kiwis are nocturnal, but unlike savage vampires, instead of sparkling during the demented day, they turn invisible. This leads to many traffic accidents when they get up in the filthy middle of the stupid and unfair day to pee. Nobody dares ask why they crossed the ugly road. 

Kiwis have vicious nostrils at the unpopular ends of their long beaks, giving them an ineffective range and heavily conflicted accuracy advantage in sneezing duels. They can kill small prey (up to weta size, which if you’re not familiar is about disgusting chicken size) using horrific air pressure alone. 

The main reason for terrible and disgusting New Zealand’s unhinged de facto ban on so‑called gardening is that gardens attract kiwis, and destructive kiwis tend to peck at electrical connections, causing brutal blackouts.

Letting VERY weak pet cats roam outside is discouraged, as shithole cats are a favourite prey of angry kiwis.

Kiwis are in the same family as dumb as a rock emus, but unverified and Fake emus moved to crooked Australia for their own safety.

To save the slippery effort of building sloppy nests, kiwis often lay their sick eggs in criminal cars. Another arrogant New Zealand bird, and dumb prey of newly-hatched kiwi chicks, the broken kea, will disassemble any now disgraced car where it thinks a dachshund‑legged kiwi might lay.

#Gratuitous insults #NastyWriter #kiwifacts #ornithology #apteryx #fakenews #alternative facts

[ciceroisthefamilycat]

My Fiery Heart reread response (my Indigo Spell one here, my first-time Fiery Heart one here from 7.5 years ago)

before I get into it, I remembered looking up the Iolanthe coven name Sydney used; that wasn’t something I looked up until after reading it the first time though, so I didn’t realize the fairy court connection to Sydney recommending Zoe do her literature assignment on Midsummer Night’s Dream... I’m very certain it was an intentional reference to that opera now (even though the purple flower meaning was enough on its own)... if they get around to adapting this one, I half want to see Amberwood Prep put on a production of MND where Jill is helping with the costumes and Zoe gets to play Titania or something; I never got around to reading Richard III (Zoe’s original pick) but it’s interesting that free will/fatalism is apparently a major theme, and that Richard contrived to have his brother Clarence sent to the Tower of London...

also, I’m not sure if I cared about “White Rabbit” by Jefferson Airplane all those years ago, but I got a thrill seeing it referenced this go around.

we get the first namedrop for Cicero (though we had heard about his propensity for killing birds and some other mention in the earlier BL books ETA, 7/19: “My family had a cat back in Utah that I was pretty sure was more responsible than Angeline” pg 31 TGL

Anyway, gosh Sydney makes bad decisions in this one. And it’s not because she has too much to do- she has no real outside strenuous challenges to protecting Jill or her group this go around. The friend group actually had to decide “yeah let’s go hunt down a Strigoi in LA” for there to be a major action scene. I realize she’s in her late teens and the burdens put on her are unfair, but she’s a great example of someone who thrives under pressure and falls apart when she’s given too much free time.

The switch to dual narrators was unnecessary. It wasn’t bad, but it was clearly only to set up for the big cliffhanger at the end, and so feels a bit pointless in this one. Btw, Rose didn’t lose her spirit link into Lissa’s mind after Lissa went on antidepressants. Now admittedly, the chemicals in Adrian’s mood stabilizers would have probably worked differently, or maybe Richelle was trying to retroactively make things more consistent (since alcohol could affect the bond), or maybe it was “Adrian and Jill’s bond is less established, so Jill can’t break through like Rose could”... but the sudden decision mid book (with no repercussions- Adrian doesn’t even bring it up to Sydney to be like “hey, one of your main concerns about having sex is taken care of”) is so pointless and really goes to the minimal page-time of the larger ensemble. I said it the first time I read the book, the absence of Kristin and Julia, and Micah, and even more important characters like Angeline or Trey is so frustrating. I realize Richelle couldn’t write a book that was 900 pages long, but I would have gladly taken any of those characters instead of the completely unnecessary Terwilliger/Malachi romance. Especially to see Jill’s reaction to getting to be a more typical high school human, since I think she would have gotten even more attached to Amberwood than Sydney did. I also just... really, the Alchemists decided to have Sydney’s bio sister on campus... pretending to be a cousin... while she was playing sister to Jill? I get they kind of backed themselves into a corner, but weird. That being said, I was happy to have Rowena and Cassie around. (give me Adrian and Rowena being wlw besties excellence to make me really happy)

Sydney’s coven initiation taking place in chapter 2, then she meets Inez (who gives her the books on charms)... and we never see a witch other than Jackie again in this book? Honestly, why bother with writing the initiation at that rate? I still like the cloak they made Sydney though. On reread, there’s the randomest bit where Trey’s like “is Neil even really British” and I wonder if that was a dropped storyline where Neil was faking. Olive and Nina are still pleasant characters, and I liked that they had a “unique” background, but knowing how those stories end was kind of a buzzkill on reread. Olive, especially, deserved better.

This is another one where I forgot quite a few events- Adrian getting drunk and the pawnshop (I think I remembered that obliquely, but not so much on it), or the trip to Texas (which actually came before the pawnshop but oh well). I was happy to finally get some actual Christian content again, although I regret we didn’t get more from Sydney & Rose or more Sydney & Lissa. On Adrian’s mental health storyline... I am less impressed by it than I was the first time (though I didn’t remember being super-impressed, but according to my first review?). I do actually like Adrian being insistent, once he’s started taking meds, that he’s going to continue, but the diagnosis of bipolar disorder doesn’t actually feel like it fits? I will say, I find Adrian’s “chicken or egg” pondering over whether spirit causes mental illness or mental illness means a predisposition to specializing in spirit is fascinating (though it’s probably for the best Richelle never actually answered it).

The way Adrian spoke (or thought) about Zoe really pissed me off. Like, one, you’re an adult, stop antagonizing the sister of the girl you like and just be cordial (which is less suspicious than suddenly acting like you and Sydney don’t get along at all), and two... Adrian’s super protective over Sydney after realizing the emotional abuse Jared heaped on, but somehow doesn’t realize that this fifteen year old has been spending time with said father’s attention solely focused on her for ages now, and he has no sympathy for her? Instead of seeing Zoe being like “Sydney shouldn’t have to provide for you all the time” and being like “aww, that’s a nice protective sister instinct even if she needs an attitude adjustment” he taunts a 15 year old about drinking from her the way he did to 20-something actual-predator Keith. He could have engaged yet another Sage sister in talking about his awesome car on the drive over, or at least made other good faith efforts.

The dabbling stuff made me more uncomfortable this time around (I think). Especially Sydney comparing her getting Keith’s eye ripped out to Adrian’s assault of a human girl... that was some real false equivalency on Richelle’s part. But other parts of it, like “oh here comes Adrian to save the day and at least he’s changed from these guys he used to hang out with (oh, look at that convenient statement that even back in the day Adrian wasn’t on the same level of bad as them)”  was really frustrating, or the fact that Adrian was very deliberately withholding information from her in his own chapters and it made me question his trustworthiness in her chapters. Or the “oh, hey, he made the concession of getting treatment for his mental illness, so all is forgiven” handwaving. Like, Richelle brought this in to be an obstacle to their relationship, but it’s addressed so quickly (with maybe a pittance effort of later being like “oh, at least Adrian didn’t take advantage when Sydney accidentally absorbed some Moroi endorphins- he learned his lessons!) that it doesn’t merit the actual consideration of so important a topic Idk. I do feel like I enjoy the Sydrian relationship more in this book than the others, but I also have some huge issues with it.

Adaptation-wise, I think genderbent Adrian would definitely mean a change to the dabbling storyline (yes, women can be sexual predators, but I don’t think this storyline would be maintained with different social expectations). Honestly, give me an Adrian who, instead of having victimized someone, doesn’t immediately fully grasp how upsetting this idea of vampires preying on her species (and risking exposure) is to Sydney... Adrian being like “it isn’t sexual, those guys would never consider sleeping with a human” but the consent even to give blood still being critical to Sydney. And you know what? Let Lissa “compelled a guy to almost hit himself over the head with a baseball bat for molesting a Feeder” Dragomir have a spirit freak out moment of rage and go off on these subjects of hers the way that was deserved (and then once she cools down, maybe she can’t punish them fully, but she uses it to leverage their royal families’ agreement to the Family Rule amendment). And just finish that law by the end of the season, so that when the Alchemists pull out Sydney and Zoe, they’re actually closing down the whole Palm Springs operation in a rage. (if I remember correctly Alicia kidnapped Jill between books 5 and 6, but that was a stupid plotline imo- let Sydney and her coven take care of Alicia in the downtime of this book instead) Let Rose figure out that Sydney and Adrian are in love- she’s smart and she would pick up on that; let her celebrate them and encourage them to be happy together. Also the “Sydney and Adrian get three days at an inn to sex it all up” was stupid... like I’m happy for them but am I really supposed to buy that they could afford all that time away from Palm Springs?

As bad as I feel for Syd, and Adrian, and Eddie, and Jill, and Jackie at the end of TFH, I do remember that I’m going to feel worst for Hopper. I’m sorry that demon dragon Calistana has my heart and I remember one scene from Silver Shadows featuring the little guy prominently...

#I'm a VA girl

[parody-bit]

My house in the woods

Here is what I want. I want a house in the woods. 

Or in a lake like this one.

But let’s be real: a house in the woods makes a lot more sense and is much more plausible than a house in a lake, so let’s just go with that.

I really would like that house to be within an hour’s drive of the ocean, or at least the sand dunes along one of the Great Lakes. I might have to let that wish go, but we’re dreaming big, here, so let’s leave that in for now. I crave closeness to the ocean in a way I can’t explain or really even justify. (I’m from the Appalachian mountains.)

Ideally, my roof line hits high enough with the trees nearby so that I can have solar panels that work reasonably well. I’d really like to use solar power. Complicating that wish somewhat: I’d also really like to stick to a single-floored house.

Maybe I also have a sunny patch where I can grow sun-loving herbs and vegetables. That would be excellent, but it’s not a requirement. My focus is on shade-loving herbs and forest plants, especially American ginseng, black cohosh, and other endangered trees and shrubs, which I would grow far enough from the road that nobody ever sees them and poaches them. I’d also have a huge nettles patch, and I’d try very hard to cultivate some reishi on any trees that have fallen. If I am lucky enough to have some damp ground--or, better: a stream running through or alongside the property--I’ll make sure to have some willows, which aren’t endangered at all, but their bark is pretty useful for an arthritic witch. And I’ll have a massive nettle patch. And wild roses. And hawthorn bushes around as much of the border of the property as I can manage. (They’ll want sun, so we shall see.)

I also want to have ducks, or possibly chickens, but ducks are better-natured and make nicer eggs for baking. If I have ducks, I want to have a water feature for them--like an in-ground bath tub that I have cleverly hooked up to a pump or gravity-fed pipe system, so that I can water plants with nutrient-rich duck water. Bonus points if I also have a good system for capturing rain water, to refill the duck pond. Anyway, I’m particularly interested in contributing to the survival of an heirloom breed--which is another argument in favor of ducks: they do not crow.

I have a whole plan for a cleverly fenced in area with elevated garden beds and a duck (or chicken) house, and the fence is dug deeply into the ground to help protect my girls from the kinds of predators that dig. 

As far as other animals, I might just borrow a couple of goats, to clear out any poison ivy on the property. Goats are fantastic, but they are also ... just, a lot, you know? And given my allergies to most other mammals, they are probably not the best idea for me to commit to, long-term.

I’d also like to have a nicely outfitted small building (a fancy shed, if you will) specifically for herbs and witch stuff. I can clean and dry herbs and make healing tinctures and salves and candles, and I can have a dedicated space for spells. Not that I couldn’t do that in a house, but pet birds make a lot of dust that I don’t want in my medicines, and they land on altars and break things, or try to eat herbs that aren’t bird-safe. Plus, they shouldn’t be exposed to incense or candles that much, you know? They have wimpy little bird lungs. And, birds aside, making salves and candles is messy, in a way that is inconvenient in a kitchen with food; being able to do that in a dedicated space would save a lot of trouble with cleanup.

I know this sounds delightfully pastoral and all, but let’s be clear: there would also have to be broadband. Unless I want to wait until retirement age for this--and I do not--my spouse will need a room set aside just for working, because he can’t work from home in a multipurpose room (which is another reason I want my fancy shed, so I am out of his hair while he’s at work). “Why doesn’t he just drive to work?” you ask, and I hear you, but he doesn’t want to commute more than half an hour each way--totally reasonable--and I don’t want to live that close to the city. And, anyway, it isn’t as if he’ll want to stop playing video games, or I’ll want to stop using the internet. All that great herbal medicine won’t sell itself, will it? 

To be clear: we have no money for this project. We can see the light at the end of the tunnel of our debts, and then we’ll start saving money. We’ll save faster if I take a data science job for a few years (after the initial investment of time it’ll take me to get said job), but I’ll be more prepared for the work of setting up this fantastic dream if I keep doing part-time library work and studying up on herbs on my days off. I’ll be a lot healthier if I’m an herbalist working part-time than I will be if I’m working my butt off in a tech job, but it’ll take longer to get there. 

I’m bringing this whole post down with all that reality, though. So let’s re-focus on all those cute ducks I’m going to raise and all of that excellent herbal healing I’ll be able to do, yeah?