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synintheraven · 5 months

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✵pairing: sihtric kjartansson x fem!reader

✵summary: Sihtric and reader continue their journey to Tamworth and find some trouble along the road as they start to trust each other.

✵tw: mentions of violence, fluff bits hehe

✵word count: 1,1k

characters info | part three

The fire before us was slowly dying and the cold wind rustled through grass and leaves, the casting shadow from the nearby tower growing smaller by the minute.

We had crossed into Grantebridgescire’s territory and found refuge between crumbling walls and thick bushes. The high land allowing us to see what lay inside the main city walls: poor houses scattered all around and surrounded by farm fields and trees, with a Dane-style longhouse emerging from the small huts. To the other side of the palisade, Danish ships were being repaired and soldiers dressed in armour watched over the land, looking for any remaining Saxons wishing to retake their city.

But, with the sun above us, it was time to continue our journey.

I felt the refreshing air blowing on my face, staring at Sihtric’s broad shoulders as he rode before me and the flickering reflection from the silver pieces decorating his hair. Recalling the night before; when he laid down over the yellowing grass, facing me with tired eyes as the flames from the fire danced in his gaze. And I remember thinking he looked warm.

He reminded me of my father’s feasts inside Stavanger’s main hall: the smoke filling the room, the flickering fire, the smell of mead and ale. It brought to my mind Sigurd’s welcoming smile, the stench of ale coming from his dirty, salty beard as he embraced me in a long hug after spending weeks at sea.

Yet I fell asleep and woke up in Britain’s green hills, ready to get on the horse and ride through quiet forests, sunny farms and mysterious ruins with a Dane.

He was still a rather quiet man, Sihtric: ever serious, almost afraid to show a smile and always staring at me as if I was to thrust my sword onto his back at any given moment. But, my childish jokes and constant teasing were slowly revealing the real man, hidden behind that leather armour and dark fur cloak.

We were in silence, nearing the river that would allow us to cross into Oxenefordscire; hearing the chirping birds, the autumnal breeze brushing over the trees and the streaming flow of water.

Behind us, the green lush hills and Saxon villages grew smaller, almost merging with the distant marshes of East Anglia as a land of patched grass, farms and thatched roofs promised a peaceful journey ahead.

Though as we crossed the river to reach the stone road, I saw Sihtric awkwardly adjust himself on the saddle, letting out a sigh before turning to me. —Their King sold himself to the Danes, but many here trust Alfred to come rescue them from the wolves. —He explained then tossed the hood of the cloak over his head. —Should any Saxon get in our way, we are to be two wandering strangers, nothing more.

I sensed the tone in his voice, a reminder that we looked like most Danes; the thick furs, the braids, the silver pieces on our hands and arms. So I covered my head, copying him as we remained close, cautiously following the road deeper into Oxenefordscire.

There were eyes on us. My heart was racing and my hands kept shaking uncontrollably, his touch only made it worse. I reached the knife hanging on my right, scanning the small town in hopes to find a distraction to get out of there.

Studying the small huts circling the big hall, the thatched roofs needing no more than a spark to set ablaze and the church’s wooden cross no more than a blow away from falling; noting the coloured windows on their God’s house and the bonfires near the alehouse, but we were helpless.

Buckingham was hardly a village on the river side, surrounded by trees and bushes that offered some sort of cover against Danish warriors; yet that didn’t stop them from taking the city nor from killing its former thegn, leaving the villagers unprotected. At least, until the Heathen Army left for Tamworth, turning a small group of warriors into easy prey for angry farmers.

And now they stood around us with wary looks and hooks on their hands, ready to attack.

—Do not lie; you two are too well armed to be Saxons. —He paused, though only Sihtric understood the words coming from the man’s mouth —Who sent you?

—We’re not with the Danes. They’re looking for war, but we want peace. —Sihtric explained in their language, his hand holding tight to my wrist.

Yet as the man moved his hand slowly towards the short sword hanging about his waist, the Dane snatched the axe he kept hidden under his cloak; watching as every man and woman stared with wide eyes, only waiting for their leader’s order to attack.

We couldn’t fight, and I was certainly not willing to perish in a stupid fight among farmers and a Dane, at least not until I’ve had my revenge.

I breathed out, trying to convince myself there was a way out of there; that we would find a gap, hurt the right person or simply have Thor help us, bring a sudden flash of lightning to keep these folk away. But the sky was clear, gaps between buildings were defended by armed men and the right person could be anyone.

—We don’t want a fight, we’ll grab the horses and be on our way. You’ll never hear from us again. —He tightened his grip, this time pulling me closer towards him and forcing me to stand by his side.

Wondering if he had a plan that was yet to share with me, or if he was simply about to offer me as a peace cow and finally rid himself of my company.

—Kill the bastards! —The man bellowed, his people repeating the words and turning them into their war cry as they grabbed whatever weapon-like object they could reach.

So we ran.

He was still holding my arm, clumsily guiding my way through angry farmers and their hooks, spears and bread knives. Only thinking about how we were to reach the stables, while screaming men threw their weapons and angry women chased after us, mere seconds away from our feet.

I could hear my feet thumping on the ground, the clinging of my own weapons on the scabbards as I ran after the Dane; still holding to the mail on his bracers, surprising myself with my willingness to follow him, blindly.

Until he climbed on his horse’s saddle and the screaming farmers caused mine to escape my reach, while the remaining beast breathed heavily, squealing as its eyes searched for a way out. But Sihtric held the reins tight, once more offering me his hand and pulling me closer, positioning me right behind him before the horse could hurry out of that damned town.

And so we rode, far from the Saxons in Buckingham and straight into Dane-ruled Ledecestrescire.

#sihtric x you #sihtric x reader #sihtric fic #sihtric fanfic #sihtric kjartansson x you #sihtric kjartansson x reader #sihtric kjartansson fic #sihtric kjartansson fanfic #tlk fanfiction #tlk fanfic #the last kingdom fanfiction #the last kingdom fic #my writing #road to valhalla #rtv

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rpgsandbox · 9 months

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kickstarter

Welcome, traveller, to the fungus-wracked tangle of Dolmenwood, and beware, for all here is not as it seems…

Dolmenwood is a fantasy adventure game set in a lavishly detailed world inspired by the fairy tales and eerie folklore of the British Isles. Like traditional fairy tales, Dolmenwood blends the dark and whimsical, the wondrous and weird.

Streamlined rules and helpful introductory materials guide novice players, while unique new magic and monsters bring a fresh sense of the unknown to veteran role-players. We’re launching the three Dolmenwood core books, plus a range of delectable extras.

Check Out a 76-Page Preview PDF!

Check out our free 76 page preview PDF of material from the 3 core books!

Preview also available at DriveThruRPG and necroticgnome.com (no account required).

Rife with intrigue, secrets, and magic, Dolmenwood draws travellers of adventurous spirit, daring them to venture within.

Explore the wild places of the Wood, travelling through bramble-choked dells, fungus-encrusted glades, and foetid marshes, bedding down among root and bracken amid the nocturnal babbling of strange beasts.

Unearth treasure hoards in forgotten ruins, haunted fairy manors, dripping caverns, crystal grottoes, unhallowed barrow mounds, and abandoned delvings.

Confront fell beasts, roving fungal monstrosities, terrible wyrms, tricksome fairies, and restless spirits of the long deceased.

Recover saintly relics and shrines lost in the befuddling tangle of the Wood, gaining the favour of the Church by returning them to civilisation.

Forage for weird fungi and herbs in the untrod depths of the woods, many with useful magical powers—and many that can be sold for profit.

Strike against Chaos, defending civilisation from the encroaching forces of the wicked, half-unicorn Nag-Lord who lurks in the corrupted northern woods.

Unravel secrets of deep magic, charting the obelisks, dolmens, and ley lines littered throughout Dolmenwood—but beware the sinister Drune cult that wards them.

Seek the counsel of witches and hags, masters of magic that can heal, hex, or divine the future.

Meddle in the affairs of the nobility, allying with a noble house in its intrigues and power plays in the courts of High-Hankle and Castle Brackenwold.

Journey along fairy roads, ancient magical paths bordering on the ageless realm of Fairy that allow travel throughout Dolmenwood—and perchance to realms beyond.

Return to the homely hearth to share tales of peril with quaint locals over a mug of ale and a well-stoked pipe.

The Dolmenwood Player’s Book (A4 size, Smyth-sewn hardcover, 192 pages approx., 1 ribbon marker) contains the complete game rules plus all character options.

Player’s introduction to the intrigues and mysteries of the forest realm of Dolmenwood.

Familiar character creation with the six classic stats, level and XP, Hit Points, and Armour Class.

6 playable kindreds: goat-headed breggles, starry-eyed elves, tricksome grimalkin cat-fairies, everyday humans, fungus-riddled mosslings, and bat-faced woodgrues.

9 character classes: cleric, enchanter, fighter, friar, hunter, knight, magician, minstrel, and thief.

4 kinds of magic: mighty arcane workings, fairy glamours and runes, holy prayers to the host of saints, and the odd knacks of mosslings.

Detailed, flavourful equipment with lists of adventuring gear, armour, weapons, mounts, hounds, inn lodgings, tavern fare, beverages, pipeleafs, fungi, and herbs.

Simple core rules: roll a d6 or a d20 plus modifiers versus a target number.

Easy-to-follow procedures for travel, camping, foraging, dungeon delving, encounters, combat, and downtime.

Full examples of play and introductory materials make the game easy to learn.

The Dolmenwood Campaign Book (A4 size, Smyth-sewn hardcover, 464 pages approx., 2 ribbon markers) presents a lavishly detailed campaign setting, ready for years of adventure.

Referee’s introduction delving into the regions and history of Dolmenwood.

Mysterious lore of the lost shrines, standing stones, ley lines, fairy roads, Wood Gods, and fairy nobles.

7 major factions: the Chaos-godling Atanuwë, the wicked fairy Cold Prince, the sorcerous Drune, the human nobility, the breggle nobility, the monotheistic Pluritine Church, and the enigmatic witches.

12 settlements detailed with major sites and NPCs and beautiful maps.

Expanded procedures for weather, getting lost, encountering monsters, fishing, foraging, and hunting.

200 pages of fantastic locations waiting to be explored.

Over 280 NPCs with their own desires and schemes.

Referee advice on starting and running campaigns, awarding XP, designing adventures, and creating dungeons.

Starter adventure to get you right into the action.

Hundreds of magical artefacts from enchanted oddments to mighty relics.

Over 250 rumours to drive adventure.

Easy-to-reference presentation designed to minimise page flipping and prep time.

The Dolmenwood Monster Book (A4 size, Smyth-sewn hardcover, 128 pages approx., 1 ribbon marker) details a bestiary of creatures that lurk under Dolmenwood’s eaves.

87 fully detailed monsters dripping with flavour, including encounter seeds and beautiful illustrations.

48 mundane animals including unique Dolmenwood fauna such as gobbles and gelatinous apes.

9 types of of normal humans: anglers, criers, fortune-tellers, lost souls, merchants, pedlars, pilgrims, priests, and villagers.

27 NPC stat blocks for common adventuring classes.

Adventuring party generator for rolling up NPC adventurers on quests of their own.

Over 300 rumours describing monsters as featured in local folklore.

Monster creation guidelines to keep players on their toes.

Easy-to-read stat blocks and bullet point presentation for quick reference.

Dolmenwood uses a lightly customised version of the acclaimed Old-School Essentials rules system, tailored to Dolmenwood and with some major quality-of-life upgrades. Players of all editions of Dungeons & Dragons will find the Dolmenwood rules very familiar.

Ability Scores: Roll for 6 ability scores: Strength, Intelligence, Wisdom, Dexterity, Constitution, Charisma.

Kindred, Class, and Level: 6 kindreds, 9 classes, levels 1–15.

Hit Points (HP): Roll 1d4, 1d6, or 1d8 (determined by Class) for HP. Re-roll 1s or 2s. 0 HP is dead!

Armour Class (AC): AC 10 = unarmoured, better protection raises AC.

Initiative: Streamlined side-based initiative makes combat fast and exciting: each side (monsters / adventurers) rolls 1d6 each Round—highest roll acts first.

Attacking: Roll 1d20, add Attack bonus and modifiers, try to beat the target’s AC, roll damage.

Saving Throws: Roll 1d20, add modifiers, try to beat a fixed target number on the character sheet.

Ability Checks: Roll 1d6, add ability modifier, 4 or higher succeeds.

Skill Checks: Roll 1d6, add modifiers, try to beat a fixed target number on the character sheet.

As an adventure game in the heritage of the RPGs of the 1970s and 1980s, Dolmenwood espouses the danger and excitement of the old-school play style.

Emergent character creation: Unique and surprising Player Characters emerge from quick random rolls, rather than from detailed character build optimisation.

Exploration, puzzles, and tricks: Players’ ingenuity and creativity are challenged by devious puzzles, traps, and tricks. Simply rolling dice to succeed is often not an option!

Creative thinking encouraged: Easy-to-learn rules for exploration, encounters, and combat provide referees with a robust framework from which to make impromptu rulings on players’ outside-the-box antics.

Fast, exciting combat: Combat encounters are quick to play out, leaving plenty of time in game sessions for exploration and role-playing. As in real life, combat is not fair or balanced—players whose clever tactics tip the balance in their favour will prevail!

Zeroes to heroes: Characters advance from humble beginnings to heights of great power.

Open-ended sandbox play: Campaigns focus on freeform stories evolved over the course of play, with players driving the action.

Kickstarter campaign ends: Sat, September 9 2023 4:59 AM BST

Website: [Exalted Funeral] [facebook] [twitter] [instagram] [youtube]

#RPG #kickstarter #Dolmenwood #Old-School Essentials #Exalted Funeral

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0therpearl · 1 year

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Alaazoshan is a ways north, ‘cross the canyons and the meadows. Too much a trek just to take a nap with how little water I’ve got. Skins need full, so I angle toward the ruin first.

It’s an old stone maze, empty of life outside the brinestalk and buzzing flies. Nested up beside a wall, a sturdy trunk, and in it...

I don’t know what I expected.

I pocket the fruit, strap the chest to my back, and canter across the marsh back to town. Part way through, I find somethin’ curious... Some poor corpse with a mangled mess of tubes on its back. Flat as a latke.

Lack-salt tried to make their own wings, looks like. Didn’t know better than to fly low and lie low. Their loss. I pocket the things, take a sturdy looking steel blade to hand, and —

Bang. Donate a few slugs to a hungry reptile. Nice try, croc.

#caves of qud #coq #||ic #||bugslinger

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quotedfictions · 1 year

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A Gentle Breeze

Synopsis: Although raised in the mortal world, a young daughter of an archon and an illuminated beast, you found yourself living in Wangshuu inn away from mortals with your husband of 256 years. Within, you held immense healing powers, keeping the one you love safe from his karmic debt. Every time you feel a gentle breeze, it reminds you of him, no matter how many walks you take.

Themes: Fluff, Cute, gentle, romance, married vibes.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 970

Edit: Spelling errors fixed

It was evening when you decided to go on a walk, the sky was clear of any clouds, and there was a gentle breeze from the northeast, originating from Stone Gate towards Mondstadt. You smiled as the soft wind pushed your hair behind you, reminded of the mortal ceremony that bound you to your lover, a ritual he consented to just for you, to show you how much he loved you despite never really being familiar with human emotion. You played with the metal band on your finger, an engraved yaksha symbol to remind others of whom you are married.

Walking through Dihua Marsh, you admire the sky, wondering what it would be like to ascend to Celestia when you feel a strong gush of air behind you, only lasting for a mere second before you turn to look at your lover softly reaching out for his hand as if you were inviting him to join you are your evening walk. "I assume you've finished your chores? Xiao?" The male nodded before taking your hand and gently pulling you to his side, "I presume you are on a walk; after all, you are a bit away from the Inn." You nod in response before placing a soft kiss on his nose.

The two of you start walking back towards the in, not talking, preferring the silence above all else. That was when you found it odd that Xiao wasn't being as quiet as you thought he would be; although Xiao was in his thoughts, he was mumbling them aloud, but to you, it was cute. Every single thing that came out of his mouth was an idea of what to do on your 257th anniversary, a date Xiao took very seriously because it was a yearly reminder of how long he's been committed to you, committed to being there for you. "Your mumbling dear" You pointed out his actions even if you didn't mind, but you didn't want any surprise he may be planning for you to go to ruin.

The male blushes softly, clearing his throat and returning to the peaceful silence once there as you both reach the Inn, your arm wrapped around his. You asked for him to teleport you both up to the balcony, your feet growing tired from the peaceful trek you took through the marsh surrounding the place you called home. The male picked you up, holding you up bridal style, and used his adept abilities to teleport you both up to the balcony you first met at and your favorite resting place before turning in for the night, you sat on the railing after being placed down, and Xiao sat on the roof, away from mortal sight. Another gentle breeze blows past you as Xiao speaks up, a slight blush on his cheeks "Y/n, have you ever thought about, erm… having children with me?" Your face grew red, shocked, and flustered.

"X-Xiao!" Your husband's statement threw you for a loop when you brought it up about 100 years ago; he said he would never want children because of his karmic debt. "How about we talk about this later? I need some time to shake off the shock from you saying," You teased as the male jumped down and put his hands next to the outside of your legs. You place your arms on his shoulders, a soft smile gracing your lips before he gives you a quick peck, placing his forehead against yours. "Over these years, I've been thinking about what it would be like to have mini Y/n's running around and how my Karmic Debt would affect them, but they wouldn't exactly be mortal, would they?"

You giggle, caressing his cheek and looking up at him through your eyebrows. "Not in the slightest; they would have the blood of a Yaksha, an illuminated beast, and an Archon, so your Debt would not be a big concern at all." Xiao hums softly, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck; this was a side of him only you got to see, especially since not many get to see him in the first place; you were the only one who got to see and talk to him every day, eat almond tofu with him and spend his restless nights talking before your body decided you needed rest.

"Xiao, it's starting to get late, I apologize for cutting this short, but I am starting to feel a tad Drowsy." Xiao looks at you, understanding that you need rest as you tend to heal him with your Cryo vision unconsciously, using up quite a bit of your energy. The male you married picks you up once more, his arms holding you up by the legs as you rest your head on his shoulder while he takes you back to the room you both slept or meditated. When you arrived in the room, Xiao placed you under the blankets before getting under them himself, deciding he would rest with you and enjoy the occasional breakfast with you, even if all he ate was almond Tofu in the mornings.

The male can only do so many chores over the week before becoming drowsy. As you drift off to sleep, you feel a gentle breeze enter through the window, and Xiao hugs you from behind, falling asleep rather quickly. You fall asleep, the cool air helping you fall asleep in the comfort of your husband's arm, drifting off into the world of dreams. Even in your dreams, you were with your husband, the children you dreamed of having, and cool breezes reminding you of the ones you loved to live a life of bliss and joy that you could only experience in your sleep. You rest peacefully as the unmistakable sky twinkle on until day.

End.

#genshin impact #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #fem reader #female reader #x reader #fan fiction #fanfic #reader insert #x fem!reader #x female reader #xiao fluff #xiao x y/n

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angelicyouth · 10 months

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Parallel ; Chapter 4

⇢ pairing: stan marsh x mccormick!reader

⇢ genre: fake dating ; hogwarts AU

⇢ synopsis: ❝Transferring to Hogwarts during your fifth year, you were excited at the prospect of all the new potential eye candy to choose from. That dream gets crushed, however, when your childhood enemy impulsively claims you as his girlfriend.❞

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist] ; [previous] ; [next]

An elbow roughly digs into your ribs as your feet shuffles along the stoned floor of the castle’s dimly lit hallways, your leg shooting out to trip the person walking close to your side in reparation. You stifle a laugh when you’re successful in your action, your teeth painfully digging into your lips so as to not make too much sound.

“Will you shut the fuck up! This is a mission of stealth—we’re not supposed to be alerting the goddam student body with your loud fucking stomping! And I know that you’re a witch but you don’t need to annoyingly cackle like the muggles depict them to do, either!” A large hand shoots out to shove at your shoulder, Stan angrily whispering by your side as you walk in time with one another.

Boldly entering the Ravenclaw tower from the entrance of their common room during the early evening did not bode well with the students when they saw the green robe adorning your rushing frame, to the boy’s side of the dorms no less. It alarmed those that witnessed your haste, a prefect sent to find out where you were going and to admonish whoever allowed you entry.

Honestly regaling the incidents that occurred at detention with Professor Umbridge would’ve been fine to excuse the intrusion, especially when they caught sight of your sickly form looking dazed and unfocused. But that was ruined when the wooden door of the dorm accidentally opened wider, revealing the multitude of your other friends crowded in Kyle’s room.

As a result, one of the Ravenclaws ratted your red-headed friend to administration (it was the same student who had a one-sided rivalry with Kyle for his higher ranking results during exams—go figure). This is how you ended up with your boyfriend in this situation, the soft material of a Cloak of Invisibility thrown over your bodies in an attempt to bust your prefect friend out of punishment.

The two of you were sent as everyone waited in Kyle’s dorm (getting in trouble wouldn’t have deterred you guys from hanging out in there). This was under the reasoning that if the both of you got caught, you guys could excuse your actions by saying that you were just two lovers sneaking away for privacy.

But standing this close with one another, you couldn’t help but to notice the familiar notes of scents that mingle beautifully together to make up Stan—the same ones that you belatedly realized that the Amortentia that you brewed emitted. It hurt when you took note of how a whiff coming from the concoction was of your smells intertwined with one another because of how much time you’ve been spending together.

The way that the fragrances complimented the other in a way that only amplified the best parts of the other’s mixture, seamlessly blending together and accompanying the both of you wherever you went. You wonder if this is what love smells like because this recent development was like carrying your affection around, constantly reminding you of the other.

The feelings you’ve been experiencing hurt just as much as it was confusing because growing up, the two of you have always fought over the littlest things. There was always an unspoken rivalry between the two of you, born from the beginning of time wherein you tried to best the other no matter what it was.

You weren’t so juvenile to have been unconciously keeping up that charade all your life because you liked him… Right? Like a little child picking on their crush just to get their attention..?

Disrupting your internal conflict, Stan pushes you against the brick wall that adorns the hallway, throwing a hand over your mouth. You send him a questioning look, his body pressed against yours and his unoccupied arm wrapping itself around your waist.

His face is close to yours as he wordlessly stares into your eyes, the sound of footsteps explaining his actions as you roll your eyes. Fucking idiot, we’re wearing a Cloak of Invisibility is what you nonverbally communicate when you send him a condescending look back.

He lazily quirks an eyebrow in response and you just know that he’s keeping the both of you in this position to be annoying now that there was no threat to be identified, the footsteps belonging to a group of Gryffindor girls chatting with one another. You smirk to yourself as you slowly lick the inside of his palm to encourage him to drop his hold over you in disgust, your eyes challenging the other as you hold eye contact.

The arm wrapped around your waist slightly tightens at the provocative gesture before he calmly removes his larger hand from your face, never breaking eye contact as he makes a show of taking his time in dragging his tongue over the area you just licked. There’s a smug smirk curving against his attractive face as your breath stutters in the space between the two of you, his fingers beginning to lightly skim themselves against your clothed side.

"You've been avoiding me." He deeply mutters in the space between the two of you, his hand lightly trailing against a stray lock of hair and teasingly tugging on it.

"What the fuck are you talking about? I see you everyday, all the damn time because you've somehow convinced our friends and my brothers to pity you enough to keep you around. If I had known this would have happened, I would have told 8-year-old Kenny to drop your ass as a kid." You softly scoff, your intimate position making every puff of air that exits your mouth to lightly hit his pretty pink lips.

"You know it's not that, dumbass. You've been avoiding making eye contact with me." A large hand gently caresses your chin, firmly guiding your face forward when your eyes start to shift to the side.

You scoff, defiantly wrenching your head away from his hold. "That doesn't mean shit, Marsh. Maybe I've just decided to save my eyesight from going bad too early by not looking at your ugly mug all the time.

You're rewarded with an unamused look, the hand not wrapped around your waist lightly trailing its fingers down the length of your arm until it can interwine your hands together. You can feel the eager goosebumps that arise at his soft touch as you continue, "Why the hell do you even care? This isn't real, Marsh. Or did I hurt your ego?"

He doesn't answer as he takes his time in bringing his face closer to yours, your unoccupied hand reaching out to grasp at the uniformed button-up along his taut stomach in anticipation. Your heated breaths begin to mingle with one another as the space between the two of you steadily diminishes.

The air is almost electric as you wait, daring the other to crumble and to make the first move. Ever since your spontaneous first kiss at Madam Puddifoot's, the both of you will often pull the other in for more with the reasoning that Wendy or the boys were watching.

You know that it's an excuse because one too many times, Stan will drag you behind the banners hanging over the walls or underneath empty stairwells just to drown in your eager lips. Its gotten to the point that you felt disturbingly empty when one of his arms weren't wrapped around your shoulders or your fingers weren't interlocked with his.

If the both of you were sitting, he'll either throw your legs sideways over his thighs or place you on his own lap as Cartman mimes fake vomiting in the background. Tweek has even had to pull you aside to talk, a messenger for both Butters and Clyde who felt that they missed having your time and undivided attention recently.

Just as his plump lips lightly skims against yours so softly that it almost feels nonexistent, he sends you another teasing smirk before he pulls his body completely away. He grabs one of your hands to intertwine your fingers together as a frown begins to form on your face from the loss of heat and the disappointment that you feel, the ravenette tugging you along to follow his taller form so that you can resume your task at hand.

You don’t look at him for the rest of the trip to find Kyle, not wanting him to see the warmth of your blush decorating your cheeks.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“Remember: the happier the memory, the better the charm will work.” Professor Snape leisurely drawls as the rest of the class and you watch the next student ready their wand in the air to perform the spell that you were learning about in Defence Against the Dark Arts today.

The vast majority of witches and wizards were unable to produce any form of Patronus as it was considered an indication of superior magical ability. Even those qualified had a difficult time performing the charm as it was infamous for how advanced and complex it was.

This meant that no one was surprised when after the student on the raised platform in the middle of the classroom recited the appropriate incantation, only a feeble burst of smoke trailed after the end of his wand. Snape had everyone coming up to attempt to at least conjure up an incorporeal spirit guardian but only two were successful so far, able to produce vapor without a clearly defined form.

“HA! Fucking lame!” Cartman hollers out loud from his seat behind you, the volume of his headache-inducing voice making you wince.

“10 points from Slytherin.” The head of your own House monotonously announces, the boys snickering into their hands while some fake cough to hide their amusement.

”What the fu—heck for?!” The larger teen protests, the whole class collectively rolling their eyes at the daily occurrence.

”Make that 20 points for embarrassing your classmate, for sneaking food into class, and for talking back.” Cartman’s grubby paw automatically shoots out towards his mouth to wipe any possible crumbs that gave him away before going to the pocket of his robe, the distinctive sound of a wrapper crinkling in the fabric.

“Dumbass.” Kyle discreetly mumbles, his chin resting on the palm of his hand as he lazily doodles on the margins of his scroll. His quill runs off of the parchment and onto his desk when Cartman kicks at the legs of his chair, the Ravenclaw automatically reaching out to grab his wand before Butters stops him with a gentle hand on his wrist.

”Tucker, detention. See me after class.”

”Wha—!” Craig immediately ceases his snickering, his head whipping around to look at his still laughing friends.

When he’s only offered a pointed look from Snape, the ravenette slumps down in his seat with his arms petulantly crossed over his chest and mumbles spilling out of his mouth. “You’re fucking kidding me. Why the hell do I always get caught..?”

“Y/N McCormick, you’re up next.” At your professor’s words, the guys all either reach out to give you an encouraging pat or send you a motivational smile as you stand up to walk towards the middle of the room.

You take your time as anxiety steadily begins to thrum along your body at the volume of attention on your form, a shaky breath of air escaping from your slightly parted lips to help relieve some of that tension. Once you’re in position, you lift your wand up and softly close your eyes as you begin to think of pleasant memories.

The grinning faces of your brothers immediately comes to mind, their hands stretched towards yours as they tightly intertwine your fingers with their own. Your mother stands behind them as her gentle expression washes your body in comforting warmth, her proud smile shining at the group of siblings from the time that your family found out that the four of you have an affinity for magic.

It’s still not enough, you bemoan.

The space in between your eyebrows begins to furrow together as you urge yourself to dig even deeper, to reach out for that feeling that you know is there. You can just feel it calling out for you, patient and gentle as it caresses your body, providing a feeling of peace and a solace of safety.

The other boys were there, too, you belatedly think to yourself. The memory was fuzzy around the edges from how long ago it took place but you knew that they had come over to pick up you and your siblings from your house to play outside as you did everyday.

But...

It was Stan that had been the one to spot the owl that personally delivered your acceptance letters from your wizarding schools, his high-pitched hollering echoing out in your thoughts from before puberty hit him like a freight train. It was clear in your mind, the way he excitedly hovered over your shoulders as you opened up the envelope and read the words within it that changed the trajectory of your life.

You feel the corner of your lips quirk up at the full feeling in your chest as you confidently call out, “Expecto Patronum!”

The sharp multitude of gasps prompts you to open your eyes, your vision adjusting to the sight of the lingering smoke trailing out of your still-lifted wand. Confusion overtakes your features when you don’t see anything appear in front of your standing position, an embarrassed grin forming on your face at your failure.

Just as you were about to take a step forward to exit the raised platform of the walkway, goosebumps begin to run along your body when you feel something unexpectedly wrapping around your waist. Lowering your eyes, you squint to see the blinding, dazzling silver of a scaled tail.

Following the appendage to identify the owner, your body slowly turns in place until you’re greeted to the sight of a silver misted dragon. Its towering frame protectively stands over your smaller one, extreme shock filling you to the core to see that you actually succeeded.

And the only one at that.

All too soon, your spirit guardian slowly dissolves into the air in a sea of sparkling glitter and thin wisps of vapor. It’s quiet in the room, everyone staring at you in muted surprise as they await their professor’s words.

“That is very advanced magic, McCormick.” Snape brings his hands together, slowly clapping at the previous display. It would have been seen as sarcastic and demeaning from anyone else, especially with the unamused expression resting on his face, but you know that its high praise coming from the head of your House as you begin to blush in bashfulness.

“Your Patronus was fully-formed. Not an incorporeal one that would be expected from a few of you but a corporeal one. Most Patronuses take the form of an ordinary animal—like a mouse, a horse, or perhaps a rabbit.” He lifts his form off of the edge of his desk at the front of the room, leisurely walking closer to where you were still standing as he continues to address the rest of his students.

“But yours—it's extremely rare. It’s very uncommon to have an extinct animal as your Patronus, to have a magical creature like Dumbledore and his phoenix. Good work, you may sit down now.”

At that, you couldn’t deny what you felt for Stan Marsh any longer.

As you perch yourself back at the seat of your desk, you shyly smile at all the praise and compliments of the boys. You spot your boyfriend over the shoulders of Clyde when he gives you a hug and you can’t help but to laugh bitterly when you see that foreign look on his face again.

From your peripherals, you can see the proud expression that Wendy Testaburger is sending you and can only hide your face in the crook of the brunette’s neck in avoidance. Your arms tighten around his waist as you let out a shaky breath, feeling suddenly drained of energy.

Fuck, this is going to hurt.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

A cacophony of loud cheering could be heard, the sheer volume of the noise being made reverberating the stadium of students. Today was the last game of the season and the most important as it granted the winning team an Inter-House Quidditch Cup, tensions high in between classes.

Almost all of Hogwarts had shown up in a sea of red and gold in support of Gryffindor—small sparks of red fireworks periodically going off in the shape of lions that were charmed to roar out loud everytime the animals would open up their mouths. One stand was filled only with the entire student body of Slytherins that were shooting out green and silver sparklers and ribbons from the end of their wands, devotedly yelling out.

At the front of the rails, a large poster was thrown over with a large snake that moved around the blank canvas to spell out the words Slytherin. Your group of friends and brothers stood out within the stadium, easily identifiable even from a thousand feet away as they were donned in a combination of red and green regalia.

When you followed your team out onto the field, you couldn’t help but to snicker as they obnoxiously hollered and called for your attention like a bunch of raging fangirls until you waved back at them, their appearances making them look as if Christmas threw up on them. You giggle when you play along with their theatrics, blowing a flying kiss as Kenny pretends to catch it and dramatically faint as he drapes his upper body along the rails of the stand that they’re seated behind.

As Madam Hooch routinely goes over the rules, you take the time to leisurely scan your surroundings. There’s a light drizzle of rain that you know that you’ll appreciate once you’ve become sweaty during the game, the dreary grey of the sky looming over your form as every puff of air that escapes your mouth forms opaque clouds.

The two team captains shake their hands after she frees the Bludgers and the Golden Snitch, an anxious thrum overtaking your body as she counts down from three.

Three—you make eye contact with your boyfriend from across the expanse of green, an excited glint in his eyes and a cocky smile on his face.

Two—a muscular arm wraps around your waist as your surrounding teammates raise their voices when one of their own fraternizes with the enemy, your boyfriend raising a vulgar middle finger up as he plants a quick good luck kiss on your smiling lips.

One—you feel as if you’re already off the ground, your body feeling light as an overwhelming sense of euphoria causes your heart to soar from the ravenette’s touch.

At the verbal signal of go, brooms quickly shoot up into the sky as Hooch throws the Quaffle up into the air. You evoke a wave of hollering and cheers as you get ahold of the Quaffle, nimbly dashing past your House on the stands as you make the first goal of the game.

Putting your team ahead at 10-0 within the first five minutes of the game, your eyes unconsciously find cerulean blue as Stan sends you a bright smile in triumph. The proud expression on his face fuels your motivation, the school watching in wonder at your agile movements as you easily wrack up 60 points within only thirty minutes into the game.

Your fellow chaser, Bebe Stevens, trails closely behind you with intense focus as she shoves at anybody who tries to get near you and yanks people by the back of their uniform if they get too close. This landed Slytherin with a couple of fouls throughout the game, your team not afraid to play a little dirty with the shared determination to win.

You didn’t like to play this way, prefering to let your skills talk in your place. But when Rebecca “Red” McArthur roughly rams into your side either on purpose or accidentally, the Quaffle gets knocked out of your hands and into Dovahkiin's awaiting ones. With Red still trying to cut you off after the act, you harshly swerve as you dig your shoulder into her body in an attempt to deter her.

“ILLEGAL PUSHING FROM MCCORMICK! FOUL AGAINST SLYTHERIN!”

“BULLSHIT!” You frustratingly yell along with the disagreements that your House hollers in your defense, your eyes rolling at the boo’s coming from the other students.

Just as Red lifts her arm up to score, you maneuver your way above her position to sweep your hand underneath your broom. The leathery material of the Quaffle against the palm of your hand makes you smirk as you rip it out of her grasp, throwing the item at Gryffindor’s goal post and gaining your team additional points.

The game becomes increasingly intense as the other House quickly catches up, the opposing team steadily racking up points from the amount of penalties that your team was awarded from the illegal moves that they performed. This made the pressure to widen the gap on you increase and unbeknownst to you, Stan was closely watching you in concern at the amount of people trying to get to you.

Your concentration didn’t allow you to see the way that you escaped by mere inches on multiple occasions when people tried to yank your uniform back or how the beaters were deliberately directing Bludgers in your vicinity due to their captain's imposed strategy. You didn’t see the way Red became increasingly frustrated with your constant scoring and the multitude of times that you cut her off from a play.

But Stan did, and luckily Craig did too as he purposefully flew past chasers to throw them off of their focal point so that you could have a clearer path to score. Your brother’s boyfriend got heavily reprimanded by your team captain for being out of place before the chaser took off mid-conversation, having spotted the blur of fluttering gold.

Taking advantage of the assist, you quickly bring your arm backwards to throw the Quaffle into the goal post which finally brings your team back to a tie. “MCCORMICK MAKES THE GOAL, BOTH TEAMS ARE NOW AT—“

But it’s too late.

It’s as if everything plays in slow motion as the entire study body watches in horror as a blur of red painfully crashes into your side, a sickening crack echoing throughout the now eerily quiet stadium. Screams pick up as everyone watches your body gets nastily thrown off of your broom, your body limp as it quickly hurtles down onto the field.

The last thing you see is both Stan and Craig abandoning the Golden Snitch to dive down towards your falling form, pushing their brooms to reach almost unattainable speeds as their outstretched arms try to grab onto you.

#south park #south park x reader #stan marsh x reader #stan marsh #south park fanfiction #lalawrites

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lasnevadaslaborunion · 1 year

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I don't know that we've fully taken advantage of New L'Manberg as a horror setting.

~~~

Once upon a time, this was a vibrant salt marsh nestled snugly between broad swaths of forest. Edible and medicinal herbs grew everywhere if you knew where to look. Glittering swarms of fish played between the reeds and rushes. The mud offered soothing protection from the sun. The peat, an easy fertilizer and fuel source. The trees, a strategic and comforting place to take refuge. Even the humming of the insects became a comfort, a reminder that life thrived freely here.

Now, the place somehow feels too damp and too dry at the same time. By midday, the air hangs heavy and cloying when the wind isn't buffeting the houses, enough to glue your clothes to your skin. At night, especially as winter approaches, the air is cold and arid enough to crack your lips until they bleed.

Perhaps the most disconcerting is what happened to the water. See, the coastal end of L'Manberg used to be a mile-wide shallow pool, ebbing and flowing with the day and season, so clear in places that you could see the whorls where sand settled at the bottom. Now, there is no more plant life to hold the ocean at bay, either because it was blown apart by war or because it was destroyed in the fires that wheezed along for days afterward. The sea rushes down, down, into the pockmarked land, filling its wounds with debris without truly healing them.

At first, people scoured those false lakes to see what might wash up, hoping to find some remnants of their old lives. After finding one too many dead and rotting fish (among other dead and rotting things), they learned not to look down.

For the first few weeks after November 16th, seawater swept into the ruined basin constantly, washing away the recovering farmland. By now, the people were used to famine, courtesy of Schlatt's regime. They could continue subsisting on spider eyes for a while. They found clever ways to keep their newly-planted seeds away from the ocean, and ways to keep their animals safe and healthy despite the limited resources.

And then the sea continued to batter them, hard enough to flood and collapse their houses, too. It's too soon, they thought, much too soon to rebuild. Something is punishing them for their audacity.

But rebuild they did. They rebuilt their homes on high wooden stilts, overlooking murky pools and canals. When the tide is high, the water creeps up to their front steps without disturbing them. At night, they can walk along the docks, gaze into the water, and pretend the reflections of lanterns and stars in the sky are fireflies hiding in the long grass. And if the mosquitoes are more relentless and irritating than they once were, at least life went on.

But when the tide is low, their town is a wooden skeleton. Houses perched on spindly legs made pathetic by the weeds and barnacles clinging to their joints, government meeting rooms left exposed by eroded stone. It's hard to imagine such a place keeping out the cold winds, let alone keeping out the enemies who they are constantly warned against, the grinning faces plastered on fluttering posters on every blank wall and public spaces, watching them, waiting for the smallest crack to pry apart, the faintest spark to turn them into a blazing smear on the pages of history.

And the rest becomes history. The waves and wind send them spinning and colliding. They regiment themselves against it. They become paranoid and erratic and unyielding. They become fragile.

But even now, if the townsfolk close their eyes and breathe in, if they could avoid choking on the stench of salt, ash, corroded metal, and rotting wood, there is something sweet and sharp and fresh, twisting through the air - the ghost of a land still living.

Maybe that's what keeps them there until they, too, join the ghosts.

#i just really love the gothic aesthetic + l'manberg salt marsh headcanon combo okay?#dsmp #headcanon #my writing

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infraaa · 1 year

Note

Hi ^_^ LITERALLY JUST ANYTHING LOTUS DRAGON I DONT CARE WHAT IT IS IM GONNA START VIOLENTLY FOAMING AT THE MOUTH I LOVE THEM SO MUCH, thank uuu 😋

『you just gave me a looooot of power…. normally I would go back and ask for the reader’s pronouns but,,, ill let it slide just once 🤭』

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐇𝐎𝐍-𝐉𝐈

lotus dragonxgn!reader (non descriptive— pronouns not set)

baker’s notes // this is actually inspired off of the ruined temple in Japan by the same name. You can find an article about Shihon-ji here if you wanna keep reading about it. This was fun to do, thank you loves!

Who knew what perfection amongst ruins could clash the way they do?

You, a simple historian, have been everywhere. From the heat of the hot sands, to the coolness of the cacao kingdom, all in search of historical remnants worthy of study. You would walk the ends of earthbread to find something truly remarkable, and every time you did you would gain a giddy feeling in your chest You we’re sitting with some of the locals of a new location you were visiting one day, sharing a cup of finely brewed tea. Elders sat at the table with you, recounting an old fable that they were taught as children. You listened intently to their words, wanting to grasp this opportunity to see a landmark that struck history in these gorgeous lands.

The Lotus Paradise was a cooler land akin to a fine zen like marsh, filled with lily pads adorning the most beautiful flowers, croaking frogs and the cleanest of lake water. The air was cool and crisp, smelling slightly of freshly bloomed wildflowers and a perfume lingered in the air… something fresh, yet not very recognizable, not even to a local.

Being told of a distant prefecture some ways away from the legendary Lotus Palace, you were told of a temple that was the resting place of revered poets. You gasped in excitement, and prepared immediately to set out to locate this said temple. In kind, the elders you were acquainted with gave you a boat to sail on through the waters of these lands so you wouldn’t tarnish your already crisp crust. And off you went, with the boat in kind you gave them fair for their generosity, and they waved you off on your expedition across the Lotus Paradise.

A tape recorder in hand, and a backpack at your feet on this meek, yet strong boat, you calmly floated through the clean clear water, looking around at all the lush plant life and trees that coated the evergreen ground. Even for a lake it wasn’t humid, it was just right as a breeze gathered in your hair, making you smile and take in the scenery. Not so far off you saw a few signs amongst some of the trees to your east. This drew your curiosity, and through the croaking frogs you were able to find a small yet withered dock, setting your boat to rest there. You took your compass out of your pocket and took to walking, the thick grass reaching your ankles, slightly coated with dew from days prior. Following the signs with Japanese print, eroded away and chipped by the rainy days of centuries passing by, you came across the temple… except the temple was… destroyed.

All that remained of a once great temple was two columns of wood, connecting a third at the top, and a wooden sign at the bottom. The rest of the wood and other supplies used to make this temple were nowhere in sight. This was the temple they were talking about? You crouched to get a better look at the sign. It used to be well polished as it sat there on the ground amongst loose twigs and leaves. The wood was chipped, you could see the patches of polish still trying to cling onto the wood as though it was loyal to it ever since they met during creation. The kanji, 藤原清輔家集、albeit withered, still clung to the wood in faded black ink, engraved for all eternity. The same kanji was found on a stone tablet leaning against a nearby tree.

Suddenly, amongst the light breeze you heard the soft sounds of the strumming strings of a mandolin. You looked over your shoulder to see a large flat rock by some trees, and positioned on the rock was a beautiful cookie, strumming their mandolin with steady darkened teal fingers, clean nails gracing the strings with each pluck and caress. They smiled softly, enjoying the sense of peace. Pearly white sleeves hung loose on their arms, as sea blue hair decorated their lily adorned head. They suddenly looked to you, stopping their movements. With a gentle smile they blinked towards you. It was the Lotus Dragon themselves, motioning for you to come greet them.

You slowly walked to the gentle dragon and bowed in respect. “Your Grace,” you whispered amongst the trees. The leaves could make anything echo outward with a small gust of wind. You had to be careful. To be seen in such a place with such a cookie— no, with the ruler of the Lotus Paradise… that would mean tragedy for your morale. “Might I ask what brings you here?” The dragon’s sea blue reptilian pupils fixed on you in a bid of focus, curiosity lingering on their perfect features. “I was drawn here because of a historical artifact. I wanted to check it out for my records.” They nodded, and with a gentle huff they slithered off of their rock, moving towards the abandoned temple with earnest. “This temple here?” The dragon attempted to confirm, which allowed you to answer with a quiet nod of your head. You followed the dragon with a curious twinge in your step. They smiled and looked to you, looking over their clean shoulder. Sweeping shiny hair from their face, they held their kimono sleeve with a steady hand. “Indulge in me for a moment.” You nodded, wondering what the dragon was about to reveal.

“A long time ago, when dragons ruled these lands with iron wings,” the dragon started slithering towards one of the columns of the temple, “there was a family that lived here in these forests. The Kukonomi clan, as they were referred to, was known to be one of the most prestigious artistic clans of their time, and they would often gather and drink tea, soft floral wines, and recite poetry here. Here, where this wooden plaque sits, lies one of the poets, named Kukonomi no Hitomaro, and was revered within this focal point as a veneration, that being this temple, as a god of poetry. Unfortunately,” they took a moment to catch a breath, sliding over to the other column and taking it with sharp nails, being ever so careful of the eroded marks, “in the middle of the Dark Flour War, an army of the north took refuge here and often fought off Southern forces. However this resting spot was never it’s true location. This temple was relocated here out of respect to the Kukonomi clan, and these grounds were taken into the care of many other poets along it’s time, and was later abandoned at the start of the Peace Era, after the war.” You looked to the dragon with amazement as they told this tale, recording it secretly on your tape recorder for further documentation. Your arm tensed behind your back, causing them to smile upon noticing this bodily function.

“What do you think, little one?” Lotus asked, slithering over to you with curiosity. Really what they were trying to do was get a hold of your tape recorder without making it obvious. You giggled nervously, yet excitedly at the actions of the dragon and put your free hand to your cheek. “What a wonderful story, great dragon. You surely are packed with knowledge.” They chuckled and swept you from your feet, making you yelp with surprise, dropping your tape recorder on the ground beneath the two of you. Putting you down, they picked up your tape recorder with a graceful bow. The looked at the small device in their hand as they once again chuckled lowly under their breath. They pressed a little red button at the top, stopping the tape recorder from taking in any more audio into its tapes. You suddenly felt your face rush red with fresh jam as your hand shot up in nervousness, “I’m sorry, great dragon, I didn’t mean to-“ “Now now, calm down little one.” You stopped, and looked to the dragon with wide eyes. “If this helps you understand the Lotus Paradise’s lush history, then I will permit this.” You smiled thankfully as they handed you back your tape recorder, and in taking it you bowed deeply at their mercy. “Thank you, oh great dragon, for sparing me.” They laughed at you, and waved a hand. “You’re too delightful, rise, little cookie.”

They soon sent you off after spending time with them, sitting with them on their chosen rock amongst lush trees and patchy yet somehow evergreen grass. They strummed their mandolin, humming softly in your company, sometimes adding words to their melodies. And when the time came, the sun setting on the fresh horizon, they send you back on your boat, back to the main village closer to the Lotus Palace, with the elders and the other common folk, before muttering to themselves,

“And furthermore, little one… you can call me Lotus.”

#infrawrites #infradelivers #cookie run kingdom #cookie run overbreak #crob x reader #crk x reader #lotus dragon cookie #cookie run #crob #x reader #platonic

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luxe-pauvre · 1 year

Text

JANUARY 2023

Read:

Is modern life ruining our powers of concentration?

There Is No “Choice” In Wellness Culture

The housing theory of everything

Against Shock

Feel free to stop striving: learn to relish being an amateur

Dissolution Foretold: Neurosurgeon Henry Marsh on the Reality of His Own Diagnosis

Billionaires at Davos don’t think COVID is just a cold

How trust undermines science

The meaning of anger

Modern France and the ghosts of the past

Gambler’s Fallacy and the Regression to the Mean

Paulina Porizkova: the supermodel who dared to look her age

Against Willpower

We don’t know how to fix science

Have We Forgotten How to Read Critically?*

Dismissive Incomprehension: A Use of Purported Ignorance to Undermine Others**

This paradoxical life

You, Yourself, and Your Brand Name

On Not Hating the Body

Becoming a centaur

The Attack of Zombie Science

Cure: A Journey Into the Science of Mind over Body by Jo Marchant

Conflicted: Why Arguments Are Tearing Us Apart and How They Can Bring Us Together by Ian Leslie

Stone Blind by Natalie Haynes

How The Brain Lost Its Mind: Sex, Hysteria and the Riddle of Mental Illness by Allan Ropper & B. D. Burrell

Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art by James Nestor

Watched:

Why Do Details Matter?

My To-Do List Philosophy

Slow Horses (S1+2)

Black Bird

Listened To:

Keane’s Hopes and Fears

Too Late Now by Wet Leg

Chaise Longue by Wet Leg

Eating Ourselves to Death

The New Science Of The Body Clock and How It Can Revolutionise Your Sleep and Health with Professor Russell Foster

Tim Spector: The Latest Science on Gut Health

How To Stop Feeling Overwhelmed with Oliver Burkeman

Johann Hari on How To Reclaim Your Attention***

Went To:

Derren Brown: Showman @ the Apollo Theatre

#Trying to get into podcasts after many failed attempts and am so far finding searching author names to be an effective strategy.#* Highly recommend.#** If you (like me) enjoy a bit of scathing and accurate critique of Peterson then you will thoroughly enjoy this.#*** [Insert all the usual disclaimers about Johann Hari here.]#personal

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bonefall · 1 year

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First Sketch of Reworked Lake Territory

(If anyone who's really good with maps wants to chime in, please feel free! It would be appreciated!)

FIRST CRACK at a Lake Territory map that would allow for more conflict and shifting borders. The idea here is to keep the lake as a central landmark while reducing how badly it gets in the way of border conflicts.

Notes and information below the cut!

The Lake Itself

-The lake is no longer circular, it’s big but it’s irregular.

-Most of the lake’s inflow comes from the RiverClan river (this water connects to the ocean to allow for salmon runs, and connects to the Tribe’s mountain further downstream)

-The outlet rivers are highly prone to changing, and the ‘basins‘ are often fought over between RiverClan (fishers) and ShadowClan (froggers). WindClan is a bit less concerned about their connected basin.

-The ‘river’ between WindClan and ThunderClan is dry for most of the year, exposing TONS of tunnels and ancient dens. This gorge connects to the Moonpool. (Note: In the next draft, the Moonpool will be lower than the gorge, not higher)

There’s also a little bit of EVERY neighbor’s preferred hunting ground in each territory. There’s sparse forest in WindClan, there’s pine cover in RiverClan, there’s river in ShadowClan... that’s on purpose so Clans have something to covet.

ThunderClan

-Camp is now nestled into a sheer rockface, a quarry dug into the mouth of a cave. There are tunnels that go deeper, but they’re blocked off. What built those? ThunderClan assumes it was badgers (psst! it wasn’t!)

-The ancient tree is REALLY old. It’s a mature oak at least 150 years of age, probably more like 200.

-In ancient times, this area had the most civilization. There are a lot of artifacts and things to uncover.

(Note: The next draft will add more landmarks, including stone ruins.)

ShadowClan

-I tried to make their river still have that REALLY deep bend in it. I like to think someday, it will change course, create an oxbow lake, and cause a flash flood in their camp lmao

-They now have marshland! They don’t have to abandon being marsh hunters!! Wetlands are a very underappreciated biome!!!

-With the pine coverage though they can now be very generalist hunters.

(Note: Next draft will also add more landmarks, including a lot of fallen trees, ponds, and stone coverage.)

RiverClan

-Actually now has the biggest territory! The borders shift often and they’re selective about what they want to defend, and when they do it. Most attacks are launched in newleaf when the rivers swell.

-Well-defended by how their territory isn’t very useful between the rivers, besides the patch of pine near ShadowClan.

-Also has the most twoleg encroachment.

-The Lake river is larger than the Forest river, more dangerous, and with more sandy shoreline.

(Note: The next draft will add a lot more human settlement including the boat lodge and a dock, and twolegplace towards the North, close to ShadowClan. I also want to try to fit in a gorge or ditch if possible.)

WindClan

-The simplest, really. Heather and hills.

-There’s actually a ton of tunnels under it, which sometimes open up into sinkholes.

-LOTS of patches of specific wildflowers all over the place, but only a few specific healing herbs. Those healing herbs ARE quite important though.

(Note: Next draft will add the Barn of course, plus some isolated trees and a couple of caves.)

I left SkyClan out for now, just to keep things simple. I will show how they fit in when we get there, though!

#Bonefall Rewrite #Lake Territory #Warrior Cats Lake Territory #WindClan #Shadowclan #Thinderclan #riverclan #ThunderClan #The Lake Map SUCKS so I had to fix it #As much as possible I mean #It's SO SO BADDD #In a book series about BORDER BATTLES YOU JUST HAVE A BIG FAT WET OBSTACLE #UPSET #Sorry for the lack of landmarks in the first draft but I am one man with a pen

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puzzlesontherim · 6 months

Text

A brief catch-up on the first ten days of Little London (from memory aided by the history tab, hence why it’s sparse):

1st of Aprimay, 5500

Layton, Luke, Flora, and Clive made planetfall together on the shores of a huge river, just east of where it entered the Quaistia Marsh. Disoriented and unsure of themselves, the four of them patched holes in an ancient burial structure built into one of the few nearby hills to find shelter together before the sun began to set.

2nd of Aprimay, 5500

No time was wasted in sowing the first fields and setting up the basic furniture they had lacked the night before.

3rd of Aprimay, 5500

To celebrate their rapidly-stabilizing situation, Flora threw a party out by the rice field. It was a modest affair, of course, but it did everybody some good to relax and mingle.

4th of Aprimay, 5500

A maddened squirrel pursued Luke as he was hauling stone chunks, and Clive quickly proved himself handy with a bolt-action rifle by dispatching it. Later in the day he further took it upon himself to bring in some meat by hunting small game. Being useful didn’t stop him from getting on the others’ nerves, though - he managed to deeply insult the Professor’s intelligence. Truly, his presence was a mixed blessing.

5th of Aprimay, 5500

(Tbh I can’t remember but the carrot and green bean fields were probably sown around this time, if I had to guess lol)

6th of Aprimay, 5500

The relative peace they had so far experienced came to an end today at the arrival of a raider from the Tribe of Cambor. Nude and carrying only an abysmally-made knife, Clive was overly confident in his ability to handle the desperate attacker, who forded the river and charged up to him without having been so much as grazed by one of his bullets. By the time Layton arrived with a knife for backup, Clive had already been stabbed several times, and was bleeding heavily. However, together, the two of them dispatched the raider.

Luke arrived late to the scene to patch up Clive’s wounds. The raider was still alive and writhing in pain on the ground, and Layton and Luke at least agreed that it wouldn’t be right to just leave them to die. A makeshift prison cell was constructed out of another ancient ruin, and Luke bandaged the raider’s wounds before escorting them to their cell.

7th of Aprimay, 5500

Now that the prisoner was stable, the crew wasn’t entirely sure what to do with them. What was more sure, though, was that the group would survive if Clive took some time off to recover from his wounds. Luke and Layton took on the task of caring for both of them between their other duties.

8th of Aprimay, 5500

Clive’s wounds had healed significantly enough to let him return to work, and return to work he did. Much of the day was spent harvesting wild plants and expanding their fields - it was beyond time to get some healroot and cotton growing.

9th of Aprimay, 5500

Luke spent some more time in the morning getting to know their prisoner, who was still quite heavily injured, when he brought them food in the morning. He learned that her name was Daisy Debelle, and the two of them began to build up a positive rapport.

10th of Aprimay, 5500

The pouring rains of the previous day kept coming down, and unfortunately it began to short out the battery near the wind turbines. Two separate fires needed to be put out.

At around 10 in the morning, a radio transmission was received from Dimitri. He is a prisoner under armed guard at a prison camp not far to the west of Little London, beyond the edge of the Quaistia Marsh, and is pleading for rescue. The only possible choice in the face of this distress call is to go help; the real question is how what preparations they can afford to make before they move out. Given the travel time, the team plans to take no more than ten days preparing to save him.

State of the Colony (late morning of 10 Aprimay 5500)

Currently building muffalo pasture. Next project, workshop.

#professor layton #rimworld #puzzles on the rim #little london logs

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krazycomix · 2 months

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PalTales: Quill's Pancakes

It was a late morning. The early dew and coldness of the previous night was evaporating, as the sun was nearing its peak. At the top of a small, rocky hill near a marsh, was a desolated church. its foundation was ruined but still stood. Nature had retaken it as vines, moss and grass grew in every nook and cranny of what was left of the once holy structure. Close by, no more than a stone's throw away, was a walled encampment. The protective walls, made from many, many cut up logs, circled around a large, rectangle building of carved stone. on its side, was an elevated stone platform that held various workbenches and machines that had ongoing projects. Things were in full swing as colourful beings were hard at work at their tasks. These strange, odd-looking creatures, called Pals, were darting back and forth between chores set before them.

A Penking, a penguin like Pal adored in a deep and light blue captain's outfit complete with an Comically overly-large hat, was busy spraying water at a wooden wheel, milling flour in style. A tall, bipedal pink-scaled lizard with lustful eyes and purple skin coat tails, Lovander, was helping build spheres with a pair of cat-like and fox-like Pals, dressed in a purple witch's and red mage's outfits respectively. Both Katress and Wixen were trying to ignore each other. Meanwhile, a greenish blue unibolt with yellow edges was discharging a build up of electricity into a generator to power the equipment. Several other Pals were busy chopping trees and mining stone, ferrying the materials to any available container to put them in or were grazing in a manmade ranch enclosure.

One Pal, in particular, stood out from the others…in fact, it towered over them.

A walking, hulking of what appears to be a dragon of sorts. Known as a Quivern. her body, from the top of her head, all the way to a long burley tail, was covered in fur as white as snow, and just as soft. Tufts of it sprouted on both large forearms, neck and thighs, with one lastly perched on the top of the head, nestled between two long, light blue feathers. Behind, a pair of angelic wings, each adorned with long, fluffy feathers that seemed to gradient between different shades of blue. Holding in her talons, was several heads.

Of green lettuce. and a couple of red tomatoes.

Casually, the ginormous Pal lumbred towards an oversized bowl. Garden varieties like red berries, tomatoes and lettuce, filled the hollow cavity piled high above the rim line. Upon reaching the feed bowl, the giant Quivern simply put her load into the bowl, turned around and walked back to where she came. Among the conga line, other Pals were carrying their own handfuls. A Drepresso, a small koala like Pal with dark blue fur, purple tipped grey ears, complete with a perma-scowl, was half dragging-lifting a bundle of wheat over to the bowl. Funny enough, it and the others were moving faster than their behemoth friend. The white giant wasn't all that motivated in working hard. She was a slacker. She knew it, but simply didn't care.

In the meanwhile, over on the platform area, the sounds of sizzling and clanging of utensils could be heard. On the side of the building's wall, an orange and silver stove was being manned by, well, a man. He was nearly six feet tall, wild dark brown hair and beard was a sign of weeks, if not months, that a razor was ever used. Cladded in a refined metal armour outfit, complete with arm and shoulder padding and a chestplate with a strange sigil that glowed. A clothed hung from armour plating on the hip. His boots were well used from wear and tear but still held up.

The man's focus was what was in front of him. In his hand, a big iron skillet. With speed and precision, he was cooking up a storm and there didn't appear to be any stopping to his culinary onslaught.

Flavoured vapours whaff from the steam and smoke, riding the breeze around the grounds. One by one, each Pal slowed their work down, raising their snouts. Deep breaths took in the spreading aroma, a chorus of flavours danced within their nostrils as images of delicious meals flashed in their minds. The Quivern was no different, she too took in the fragrances.

Her keen nose was able to tell apart the different scents. Mushroom stew, chikipi kababs, rushoar roast and….and….wait…what's THAT one??? That sweet aroma…coupled with…could it be?!

“COME AND GET IT!” Hollard the man, as he was putting the finishing touches to the last of his creations. Upon hearing this, everyone stopped what they were doing, dropped everything and made a beeline for the feeding bowl, knowing what time it was. As all the creatures were picking their places, some noticed a big, white missile was hurling towards them! Just nearly getting out of the way in time, the evading pals watched as the dragon plopped herself down, her tail wagging a mile a minute. Some gave a dirty look, as if saying “Hey, watch it idiot!”. The little Depresso, stationed right next to the big lug, looked up at her and simply shook his head. Out of disapproval or something else, no one was sure.

She didn't notice nor care. Her mind was too fixated on what she knew was coming.

Waltzing down the stone steps, the man was, with careful care, holding a platter stocked high with various dishes and meals. Following him, Wixen and Katress were following behind with their own overfilled platters as well. Both trying their hardest not to drool. The hungry Pals watched in anticipation as the platters of feast neared closer.

As soon as the platters were set on the ground, it became a buffet rush! Big claws, little paws and sly tendrils snagged the first dish they touched. The chef had to jump back to avoid being trampled.

“Hey HEY!” He shouted “ There's plenty for everyone here! No need to rush!...yeesh…“ Sighing as all the creatures before him settled back down to their places after getting their fill. Still, he smiled at his handy work. Each platter was separated into different spreads: meat, greens and inbetween. The man had learned the dietary habits of his Pals and made sure there was plenty to choose from. This time, he felt trying out some fanicer recipes as a treat for his companions. He loves to spoil them from time to time.

However, not all were happily munching away. The fluffy dragon didn't move from her spot. From her high vantage point, she had a bird's eye view of the food. Her large, blue eyes formed furrowed brows. There certainly was much to choose from…but…where were the-

“Looking for these?~” a question sing-songed.

Pulled from her scanning, she turned her head towards where the voice came from. Looking down, the man stood before her. He smiled as he holded a fourth platter. The Pal's eyes grew larger than the plate itself.

On it, stood a stack of pancakes.

But these pancakes weren't normal, per say. They were big. REAL BIG. Each cake was at least a good two or more inches thick, their girth rounded nearly the whole plate. There were twelve stacked tall like a castle's spire. If that spire had a massive helping of dark-golden syrup oozing from the top, covering the tower like a ooie-gooie blanket.

The look on the giant Pal's face was priceless. Her eyes sparkled as she stared down at her awaited prize. Her tail wagged and swayed fast enough that it started feeling like a strong wind roared in. Carefully, the man moved closer, his friend’s gaze never broke. Walking with a plate of huge pancakes was made difficult when said pancakes block your vision. Nevertheless, the tamer was able to bring the stack to his fluffy friend, setting the plate down before her.

“Alright Quill, dig in” The man said, after taking two steps back. Finally, Quill broke her stare and looked at her master, giving an excited nod, as her way of saying thank you. Seeing that all of his companions were busy enjoying their lunch, the man decided to go check on production progress and see if there was a need for more materials. And grab a bite himself.

“Finally…FINALLY, COME TO MOMMA!” The dragon giddily thought to herself. With great eagerness, she reaches for the yummy yum yums. Her claw wrapped around the top most patty, the grip causing the syrup to gush between each talon, also covering the fur on her mits. Bringing it closer to her mouth, salivation was in overdrive until her snout was within nom nom range. Taking a bite, her tongue was met with the most delectable taste. The first thing was the goopy syrup. Liquid sugar mixed with an unmistakable taste of honey splashed on the large tongue. Following behind, light and warm fluffy vanilla insides exploded from the firm form of the cake.

While the syrup and pancake were delicious by themselves, together though: they created something magical.

As Quill began to chew, the fluff of the pancake absorbed the sweet syrup, the combo enhancing the deliciousness even further. The goop that didn't land in the Pal's mouth was painted around it.

She. Was. In. BLISS.

The other set of claws reached for another from the plate as the first was being finished up. The dragon's tongue lapped the lips, feeling more of the sugary goodness. Instead of cleaning her mouth though, Quill opened it up to take a bite out of the next morsel. As soon as she bit down, her eyes shot open. Something new was dancing on her tongue! After being momentarily caught off guard, she slowly chewed and investigated. It was both sweet and tangy. It didn't take long to figure out what this invasive flavour was: RED BERRIES!

A simple red-berried fruit, given its namesake, that grew all over the Palagos Islands. Since they were in abundance, you could go for days just eating them until you got sick of them. Great for snacks and especially when you cook them or add them in with other meals. Sauces, fillings, sides, you name it. Plus, they're easy to homegrown also, which makes sense, as almost every settlement have their own berry gardens in them.

This was utterly…DELIGHTFUL! Quill had pancakes with syrup made from the little fruits before but never thought of adding them IN the pancakes. Her sense of taste could tell they were cooked beforehand, making them even tastier. Somehow, the sweetness of the other flavours didn't overpower the berries or vice versa. They melded together into a melodic fusion, but still taste each one separately. Refreshing and fruity would be the best way to describe it. From the part that was chomped, little red spots could be seen buried within.

Right after polishing off the last bite, the hungry Pal's nose sensed something that caught her attention. It was…savoury…and…it was coming from the pancakes themselves. Intrigued, Quill grabbed and brought the next patty to her snout. A couple of sniffs confirmed it. However, it carried a…familiar, meaty smell also. Determined to solve this lil mystery, She did the only reasonable thing to do:

NOM!

Nothing…could have prepared her for-

BACON!!!

To be more accurate, belly meat from a Rushoar. A large tusked pig Pal that will pick a fight with anyone and anything within its sights. A pack of them went on a rampage several days ago causing the Tamer and his pals to put a stop to them, resulting in a stockpile of pig meat currently cooling in the fridge.

Quill was curious when her master would use the meat, but she never expected something like this! Even though her mind and body were stunned, her jaws still moved. Slowly, she took in everything.

Crunchy, bite-sized bits of bacon hide amongst the fluffy expanse of the pancake. The savoury profile of meat, with a hint of salt, tangled with the sweet aroma. This…this combo was a big display of heavy contrast. Hard and soft, sweet and savoury, light and crisp ,salt and sugar…This was a meeting of two very distinct flavours that shouldn’t have worked. But it did.

Before she knew it, she felt her throat GULP, sending the morsel to its new home. Returning from her thoughts, the big Pal excitedly snatched up one, no, TWO cakes. She's wanted to experience more!

After cake after cake, she realised that the stack repeated with those three flavours: regular, red berry and bacon. This was a new experience for her and, by the wilds, she was enjoying every bit of it!

As the Quivern munched away, her snowy white fur was an unfortunate casualty. More sugary goop was being smeared more and more on her snout. Each addition caused more to dribble down her chin and sides. Her paws and talons were practically covered from the sharp tips down to the wrists. It looked as if she was wearing a pair of gooey mitts. Droplets rained down onto the Pal's abdomen like sparkling fragments, dotting more of the fur. Once the final piece of the stack was packed away, the now happily filled dragon let out a sigh of content. Suddenly, she felt something rush up her throat as a loud belch escaped her mouth. Now fully content, Quill took in the moment of the fullness. Noticing the syrup still splattered on her snout, her dragon tongue began to lick and lap.

As the Pal groomed and cleaned herself, The tamer, having finished his own plate, couldn't help but chuckle. Ever since he introduced the Quivern to pancakes, he noticed how excited she gets whenever he whips them up. Although, he only does so every once in a while, mainly because the big lug always makes a mess of herself like a toddler in a highchair. Often having to get one of the water type Pals to spray her down. Still though, he always gets a sense of satisfaction seeing the Quivern enjoy her treats with gusto. And from the look of things, the clean up detail was being handled without needing a bath. Until next time.

All the other Pals cheered in their own ways now getting back up and returning to their duties. Fetching the now empty platter plates, the Tamer made his way over to Quill, who was finishing lapping up the last bit of gooey goodness from her claws. “Enjoy your treat girl?” He asked. Wanting to try something different, the man remembered back in the outside world of the blueberry and bacon filled pancakes he used to eat at his favourite restaurant. Since the ingredients are more or less the same in this new world, he thought he would give it a shot. The now clean dragon gave a happy smile and cheerful yip as her answer, rubbing her belly in satisfaction.

Nodding in a job well done, the man then told his Pal he needed help setting up some refined chests, as he picked up the sticky plate and was making his way over to get them cleaned. Quill got up and made her way over to an open tool box, reaching in and grabbing her own tools to help with building.

All the while thinking: “I wonder what other yummy things the master will put into the pancakes for next time? I can't wait!”

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Been...quite some time since i uploaded. Life happened, but i have been inspired recently to do more writing. Since Palworld came out, i drew up some Fanart, which also inspired this short story!

I'm planning on doing more short fan stories based on Palworld, more on the slice of life lazy style of tone.

#palworld #fanfic #short story #slice of life #food #video games #video game

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rainturned · 4 months

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ㅤㅤMETA 001ㅤㅤㅤon kieran freileben + the seventy - third hunger games.

ㅤㅤTHE SEVENTY - THIRD HUNGER GAMES. to be from district two meant training his whole life for that very year. his chance to earn it. glory. that very same thing that brought them all together. an oath, never sworn, but still as strong. the strongest of them would go to the games. only the best could do it. kieran volunteered, just as he had been instructed to. he was strong, with wide shoulders and thick muscle to jump and climb.

ㅤㅤunusually skilled with the spear, kieran freileben amazed the training. he fought discreetly, and his district partner, artemisa, was the one that got more looked at. a strange strategy, with which he disobeyed the orders he got at the academy: but there was a need. and an easy way of taking them all down silently.

ㅤㅤthe reason his approach was different to other years' was probably because he hadn't really been raised, or praised in district two. even if rare, his father and mother had come from district 4. this had not given him a good name, despite the amount of money and work they put into the stone-cutting workshops. masonry gave money. lots of it.

ㅤㅤso, kieran's approach to the games was different. despite his skills, he was mainly focused on lying low until the very last moment. the second of the evaluation, however, he gave everything he had. that is how he got the training score of ten. everyone was surprised, except artemisa. she had been a fierce rival, but she was also the only one that knew of kieran's true potential in the capitol.

ㅤㅤthe day they were raised into the arena was... something. the arena was inhospitable: it had both a marsh and a rocky mountain they had to climb: at night the whole thing wasinfested with muttations. snake mutations, specifically, and some enormous frogs that melted the female from 1 district one's leg with some strong acid.

ㅤㅤduring the games, kieran killed a total of seven people. that's what the records say. the couple from six, weak and half-dead by the time they found them. the bloodbath earned him two kills: the girl from three and the male from nine. speared through them. fell to the swamp even faster than he'd expected. it was terrible. glorious, but terrible.

ㅤㅤthe games lasted six nights and seven days. the girl from one died at the swamp. the boy fell as they were climbing. the girl from four got killed in the middle of the night. so did the boy. kieran and artemisa. artemisa died by kieran's hand during a climb the last day. he was going to go home.

ㅤㅤto kill his district partner was crude, and ruin. was it worth it? yes. he got to the capitol. the girl from ten was an easy kill. hypothermic after the previous night's rain. he won the games.

#ㅤㅤ❛ㅤ𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐍ㅤ❟ㅤ study.#tw death #tw murder #tw violence #ask to tag #feel free to ask questions !! replies and askbox are open <3 #also dms <3

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amischiefofmuses · 5 months

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A while back myself and some friends who write 'The Fae Circle' together decided we'd make it on a minecraft server, so I figured I'd share some of the shots to at least provide some visuals as to what it'd look like.

The first set of three images below the main one is of the goblin ruins, a decaying stone structure that goes deep underground, connected only by rickety old bridges in the marsh. It's cold and damp but there are still lingering signs of those that once lived and revelled there. The next set are of the circle itself (albeit far smaller than it'd actually be). It's a space for the Fae to enjoy themselves and relax. There are tables filled with food and drinks that line along the dense trees encircling the space and it's lit well by a large campfire in the center, as well as luminescent mushrooms that dim and brighten occasionally. The first image after that is Morior's own home, it's fairly large but filled with trinkets. On the inside it's actually fairly small due to just how cluttered it is with memories. Everything after that are just shots from around the Fae Circle, various buildings for residents, the docks, a little of the forest. I do have a video of the whole area and adjoining town but it's super long, so I'll save that for another day - or maybe crop it down for easier viewing.

#Sanctuary || The Fae Circle #About time I made a tag for the actual fae circle stuff #these aren't perfect but I'm not great with backgrounds so they serve as good visual aid #I have no good pictures of how dense the wooded areas are unfortunately but it be like that

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redux-iterum · 2 years

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Founders: Marshlands

(Original title of ShadowClan)

DEWDROP

“I know many have hurt you, my friends, and I’m sorry. Your pain is my pain too. I plead with you to not be embittered by this and to have your vengeance by living in joy despite their attempts to ruin it.” —Dewdrop, the Dusk section of the Epic of the First Clan

Mistress of Moonlight, Sister of Shadows, and founder of what would become ShadowClan. The Crone placed low odds on the soft little kittypet securing a place among the Forest. Thankfully, Dewdrop proved to everyone she could stand on her own with kindness and trust. Despite her small and demure appearance, she had an aura about her that commanded respect from even the most hard-hearted of cats; when she spoke, cats were damn sure to pay attention.

In a world where not much empathy was given to the misfortunate or the untrustworthy, she placed trust in them and gave them a sense of belonging. When it came time for her to stake her claims to a territory, she took in the distrusted, the villainized, and the unwanted, one such incident recounted in the Midday section of the Epic of the Shadowed Haven. A tom from the Uplands named Frost had his leg grievously burned in a fire, to the point it hampered his ability to hunt for the Clan. Clear Sky banished him for this, and Dewdrop took the tom into the Marshlands with tail held high. Feeling a sense of belonging, Frost lived out the rest of his days joyfully in the Marshlands.

However, Dewdrop was aware of her own shortcomings, and during the period in which she trained under the Crone, she came to befriend a pilgrim, Tall Shadow. The two became trusted allies and that trust led to Dewdrop appointing her as her deputy. Of the Crone’s disciples, she was the longest to live, and while her grave is unknown, there’s a small silvery pebble placed on a stone pile near the entrance to the Mother in her honor.

TALL SHADOW

“Stand down, Clear Sky! The earth cares not one way or another for your bliss or your sorrow. I grieve for your beloved too, we all do. But we must press on; the sun still rises and sets without her, just as it will when we breathe our last.” —Tall Shadow, from the Poems of the Pilgrims

Wraith of the Pilgrims, Keeper of the Marshes, and the first deputy of ShadowClan. Even before her arrival to the Forest, she suffered the hardships of losing some of her own, including the leader of the pilgrims’ band. The Poems of the Pilgrims recounts Tall Shadow and Clear Sky’s power struggle in the wake of their leader’s death. Even when the pilgrims were ushered into what is now RiverClan territory, their fight for power drove a wedge between the struggling cats.

No one’s sure why Tall Shadow never heeded the Crone’s call—perhaps someone needed to keep an eye on the pilgrims—but she did join the Moorlands some moons later to see for herself how her friend Ripple and her rival Clear Sky were faring. There she met Dewdrop and the two hit it off well, to the point it felt natural for her to be asked to join the former kittypet’s side in deputyship. While Dewdrop handled unruly cats with a firm voice and a harsh word, Tall Shadow backed up her leader’s words with her claws and teeth.

Unfortunately, Tall Shadow’s story ends poorly. Recounted in the Moonrise section of the Epic of the Shadowed Haven , the Marshlands’ wraith had been found dead with a former Uplander to blame for the death. In a rare moment of pure fury, Dewdrop sentenced the cat to death, and a long portion of the Epic is dedicated to her grief for her fallen companion. Not much of a body was left for a funeral, but the shadow of Dewdrop’s memorial is enough for the descendants of their Clan.

RUBBLE

“The mighty maple choked by roses. Storms rend the rain from the thunder. The heavenly inferno stains the night red. Starry shadows and sunlit snow and the silver water-reeds. O Mighty Sycamore, do the flowers and the sticks deliver you from the ants? You! Yes, you, Fern Leaf! Where’s my frog? Didn’t Dewdrop say I needed my frog?” —Rubble, from the Morning section of the Epic of the First Clan

One of the first seer-like cats in Clan history, dreamy-eyed and aloof. No one’s really sure where this tom came from, but rumors had it he was a former kittypet. Interestingly enough, he didn’t show up much in the epics all that often, only featuring to impart some rambling nonsense and disappear into the background once again—only for that “rambling nonsense” to turn out to be a prophecy.

For arguably the first seer of ShadowClan, it’s surprising how little the most pious Clan knows of him.

#warrior cats #wc #rubble #dewdrop #sun shadow #tall shadow #lore #worldbuilding #original name of rubble: pebble heart #dewdrop is a redux/iterum original #all others have kept their names the same

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longlistshort · 1 year

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Andrew Edlin Gallery is currently showing a collection of rarely seen works by artist Beverly Buchanan. It covers her years as an abstract expressionist painter in NYC and her later work inspired by the rural South.

The gallery’s press release gives a really good history of this wonderful artist-

The first section of the show features the artist’s abstract paintings and works on paper from the 1970s, alongside post-minimalist sculpture from the late 1970s and early 1980s. The second section introduces a later, more personal side of Buchanan’s oeuvre, her colorful depictions of flowers and small folk-inspired assemblages created during the same period as her well-known “shacks.” A number of the works in the show, many of which were part of the artist’s private collection, have never been shown.

Though Buchanan wrote about her love of “making things” from an early age, it wasn’t until 1971, when she began taking evening classes taught by African-American painter Norman Lewis (1909-1979) at the Art Students League in New York, that her career as an artist took off. Abstract still-lifes that she made in Lewis’s class in 1972 are displayed here for the first time. That same year, her paintings were included in a group show at Cinque Gallery, a nonprofit space co-founded by Lewis and Romare Bearden (1911-1988), which showcased the art of emerging minority artists.

Having witnessed demolition sites in Harlem and SoHo, Buchanan evoked the visual erosion of architectural facades through what she dubbed her “Wall” paintings. In 1976 she presented a selection that she called “Torn Walls” in a two-person show titled City Walls at the Montclair Art Museum in New Jersey. In his New York Times review, David Shirey described the show as “indisputably a tinderbox of a display that will cause sparks to fly” and “the kind …one sees more regularly at the Whitney Museum and at some of New York’s avantgarde galleries.” Three of these paintings are being shown for the first time since that exhibition, forty-seven years ago. The show also includes a monotype, small studies, and a large painting from a series she titled “Black Walls.” The latter was originally featured in Shackworks, a seminal exhibition that opened at the Montclair Art Museum in 1994 and traveled to nine other institutions from 1994-1996.

By the late 1970s, Buchanan was further exploring the aesthetics of architectural decay through sculpture, i.e., cast concrete assemblages, made from pieces of stone, brick debris, clay, and cement mixtures. She arranged these works in clusters on the floor, documenting them with photographs, and exhibited them, notably at Truman Gallery in New York in 1978, and at the feminist artist cooperative A.I.R. Gallery in 1980 in its groundbreaking show Dialectics of Isolation, curated by Ana Mendieta. Some of the small black terracotta works on display may be considered as studies for these larger assemblages.

After moving to Georgia in 1977, Buchanan became increasingly interested in making what she referred to as “environmental sculpture,” artworks that mimicked exterior surfaces and were also site-specific installations that were allowed to decay over time and become part of the surroundings. Most notably, in 1979 she completed Ruins and Rituals (also the title of the Brooklyn Museum retrospective from 2016-2017), and in 1980 Marsh Ruins, with funding from a Guggenheim Fellowship. To construct the three mounds that comprise Marsh Ruins, Buchanan produced her own tabby cement. Composed of the lime from burned oyster shells mixed with sand, water, ash, and other shells, tabby is what colonial settlers used to build structures in coastal Georgia, the location of Marsh Ruins. In her zine “Making Tabby for Brick Sculptures,” Buchanan documented the labor-intensive process of making tabby, a task that in the eighteenth century was typically delegated to enslaved workers. Two smaller iterations of these structures, with bits of oyster shell showing in the concrete, are laid out in the show alongside four other examples of her cast concrete assemblages. Though little is known about their exhibition history, we do know that the artist placed these cast concrete works in her garden in Athens, Georgia. They retain stripes of the green, blue, black and earth-toned paint with which Buchanan initially covered them. The faint outline of her signature “B.B.” is also visible.

Buchanan’s later work is intimately linked to her natural surroundings and folk art. As a native Southerner, she drew on memories from her childhood as well as the lush Georgian landscape and yard art of local self-taught artists. A passionate gardener, Buchanan produced vivid oil pastel flower drawings and small assemblage works. She loved to rummage through thrift stores collecting marbles, wedding toppers, and beads, to create what she referred to as her “Christmas trees,” and “spirit jars,” her take on memory jugs, a prized Southern Folk Art form. Buchanan was particularly moved by a visit to folk artist Nellie Mae Rowe’s home in Fayette County, Georgia, and reminisced: “Being at Nellie Mae Rowe’s home was like being engulfed in a magic forest of her work because every surface had a mark from her hand and the simple chewing gum works made you never take gum as just chewing gum again.” A distinctive chewing gum jug and pin are also included in the show.

This exhibition closes 5/13/23.

#beverly buchanan #andrew edlin gallery #andrew edlin #nyc art shows #art #art shows #painting #drawing #sculpture #abstract expressionist #flower paintings #american folk art #american south

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