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bonefall · 1 year

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do you have any plans for the way that hollyleaf and cinder heart's relationship works out in your rewrite? i'm really curious ngl

Poor Hollyleaf is dealing with the narrative so much that she never has the time to work through the feelings for all the cats she has in her life.

Cinderpaw and her are simple friends from a young age. Not quite like Jay and Poppy, but whenever Holly sits to share tongues, or grab a buddy to have lunch with, she's usually plopping down with Cinderpaw and Lionpaw. Sometimes when they both get tired of Lionpaw being a bit of a meathead, they go find some extra tasks to get involved with.

For Hollypaw it's casual. For Cinderpaw... it means the world, so much more than Hollypaw knows.

Cinder looks forward to it all the time. Sometimes she says something a little too overeager, and then agonizes that night over if she said the wrong thing or not. But one day it's Hollypaw's turn; Ever-so-serious, she teased out a lighthearted nickname, "Do you want to go collect some cobnuts for Leafpool.... C-Cindy?"

Holly walked away from that encounter thinking it was rude, chiding herself for stuttering, thinking about how Cinderpaw always says the right thing and how she totally thinks she's a complete idiot now.

Cinderpaw carves "Hollypaw x Cindy" onto a holly twig and stashes it into her nest and purrs every time she looks at it, hastily stashing it whenever someone else pads into the Apprentice Den.

It's the kind of love where they both have reciprocated feelings, but never come out and say it, assuming they're getting in each other's ways. Especially once it becomes obvious Hollypaw has other... options.

First, it's how her brief tenure ends as a medicine cat apprentice, and she still likes to spend gatherings beside Willowpaw. But that's understandable. That's NORMAL. It's NORMAL and UNDERSTANDABLE to have friends in other Clans. Cinderpaw repeats this in her head, over and over and over.

Lionpaw says something and Cinderpaw realizes she wasn't present for the past 10 minutes. It's unsettling, but she moves on. She doesn't understand why she cares so much about Willowpaw

When it REALLY becomes noticeable is when Heatherpaw walks into the scene

CW: Public embarrassment; Cinderheart causes a scene, the girls are FIGHTING, this character has BPD. It ends fine though I promise

Because WOW Hollypaw is bad at hiding how much she's thinking of Heatherpaw. Suddenly she wants to walk on the southern side of the forest. She's got a taste for rabbits. She spends less time sharing tongues after dinner.

Cinderpaw starts to feel like maybe she did something wrong, or something IS wrong, and she plans to get to the bottom of it... unfortunately, she goes about it in the worst way possible.

Cinder cuts Holly off before she leaves the camp one evening and before she knows it, 'getting to the bottom of it' means demanding an answer, her lips running away with her tongue, "What are you doing? Have somewhere to be?"

So of course, Holly responds with aggression in kind, "I'm going out obviously? What's your problem??"

"You're ALWAYS going out these days, aren't we all good enough?" By this point ThunderClan is staring, and Cinderpaw is feeling their burning stares on her pelt. And yet, she continues, "If you like WindClan so much why don't you LIVE there?"

Hollypaw's eyes flash with sharp pain, followed by fury. Holly's brothers are leaping up and running over, but Holly says something she knows will hurt her, "It would be better than dealing with you!"

As Holly dashes and her brothers bolt after her, Cinderpaw's heart CRASHES. The camp is spinning around her, a concoction of anger, shame, sorrow, and gut wrenching embarrassment swirls in her stomach, almost knocking her over.

She retreats to her nest, breaking her little love twig in half and burying her face in the moss hoping she'll never see or be seen by Hollypaw ever again. Brackenfur comes in to try and comfort his daughter, and she bubbles miserably into his soft chest.

He doesn't understand a word she's saying but he's Supportive and that is what matters.

Holly is missing well into the night, neither her nor her brothers anywhere to be found, and Cinderpaw starts to blame herself. If they never come home, it'll be her fault for snapping like that and she promises she'll NEVER forgive herself.

But they come home. Soaked, tired, and HATING tunnels, but they come home. It starts Cinderpaw's tears up ALL over again, squeezing Hollypaw close, being squeezed in turn, apologizing, Holly admitting,

"I didn't mean what I said, I was mad and-!"

Being cut off, "I don't know why I did that, I shouldn't have done that-"

They put it behind them, for now.

But this marks the beginning of Cinderpaw's arc of instability, and learning how to handle her impulsive decision-making. For Hollypaw, Cinder is a friend, a crush, an ally, but someone she also occasionally has spats with.

Especially since Cinderpaw's mentor is Thornclaw, a secret admirer of Thistle Law, and Hollypaw's mentor is Brackenfur, Firestar's deputy and bearer of Fire Alone.

#It is unfortunate that the relationship between these two is so clear in my mind because I swear to god I am trying to write--#--CinderLion as endgame. But every time I go to write about CinderLion I pass out on the keyboard and wake up to stuff like this #HollyCinder #Hollyleaf #Cinderheart #Bonefall Rewrite #Bonefall Po3 #BPD Cinderheart #Also I tagged this with a warning since I know secondhand embarrassment can be lethal to some people #As a minor side note I don't do that thing they decided post-TPB where it's apparently a huge sin for apprentices to sneak out #As long as they do their assigned tasks it's fine. Clans aren't prisons and apprentices are teenagers #They can be trusted to leave camp in the afternoon like that #complicated girls my beloved...

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heelanhomestead · 8 months

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Hi there … 👋 We’re spending the day planting some more trees. I know I say this every time, but it really makes me happy. This year we’ve decided to plant some cobnuts, just a little step closer to a self sufficient life and food security.

Alongside the cobnuts, we’re also popping in a weeping willow. We have a damp area on our land, so are really hoping this will help to dry it out … 🤞

If only it would stop raining, it would make this job so much easier … we’re dodging heavy downpours 🌧😅🌳

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princessmadafu · 2 years

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Eric II

Remember Eric?

The vicious flea-ridden five-foot cactus that I was gifted and then had to commit cacticide on and dump his body parts in a field in the middle of the night?

Eric II arrived yesterday as an unexpected birthday present.

Gods, nooooooo!

He's only a baby so I went round him with the toenail clippers, and now he looks like a punk rock Yoda.

I hate cacti.

I'm thinking of taking him for a walk while he's safe to handle, and then accidentally leaving him somewhere where a kind person will find him and look after him - police station, church porch, charity shop? Maybe I could sneak him into Lidl and leave him on their houseplants shelf? Or by the checkout where customers leave their impulse grabs and regrettable biscuits for the staff to put back?

You have to help me out here - I hate cacti, did I mention that?

I don't want Eric II, and if you don't suggest something friendly I may be tempted to pop him into Mad's new birthday multi-cooker with the pressure-cooker lid attachment and see what happens on High for 60mins.

The yoghurt turned out OK, incidentally - nice with a sliced banana and chopped cobnuts, and massively full of live bacteria, but not as creamy as she hoped. Just pure natural yoghurt without the shop-bought-yoghurt thickeners and preservatives. She's talking about adding extra double cream next time, but as we have two litres of First Attempt to eat up before she tries Second Attempt, next time won't be for a couple of weeks. No.3 Son is an international sportsman and he's suggesting adding some of his weird protein powder and selling it on as a healthy protein snack to his teammates but I'll have to do a bit of internet investigating on that one. Once you start selling food, there are Extra Rules To Prevent Poisoning People and I can't have Mad jailed for wiping out the entire national squad!

Though, come to think of it, that would make a really good crime novel; insane purple-haired witch embarks on eliminating rival teams with deadly yoghurt so her son wins Olympic Gold. Purple-haired witch is a failed Olympic gymnast who reinvents herself as a chef and... No, this is my idea, my book, not saying anything more and this idea is (c) PrincessMadafu.

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thedancingwalrus-blog · 2 years

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Hazelnut harvest

It’s been a long time since I made a gardening post and hey things are ripe on the trees, so I thought I’d put a few together. :)

This year saw the first useable harvest from our hazelnut (or cobnut) tree. We’ve had the tree two years now and it’s still small so this is actually quite quick!

I left the unripe ones on the tree to pick up in a few days. Here’s what they look like fresh off the tree. A little green on the shell is actually fine and perfectly normal!

Here are a few out of the husk (I’m not sure that’s the right word but the fleshy green part that holds and protects them on the tree). They’re a good size. And as you’ll see when I crack them open the actual nut is smaller.

These are the raw hazelnuts :) I crack mine by hand using the pestel and mortar I use for spices. It’s perfectly normal to get a few empty shells. I think I got seven empty ones which is a pretty good proportion.

They’re also a much better size then the 1-2 I got last year. I think that making sure the tree has enough water while it’s fruiting helped give a better size.

The brown bits on the nuts are a combination of a fleshy protective coating inside the shell and the skin around the nut. I soak them in water for around 10-20 minutes so the skins come off more easily. You don’t need to remove the skins, but I’d recommend removing the fiberous fleshy coating because it’s unpleasant to eat.

And here they are, finished and clean. :)

You can actually eat them just like this. The flavour is a little different raw vs cooked. I broke these up and mixed them in to a crumble topping and they were delicious.

#gardening #hazelnuts #growing trees #My trees have done so well this year

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skribeworks · 6 months

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Coils of the Serpent - Chapter 8

Ganthe tensed.

It was time. He had delayed long enough. The crowd was only going to get heavier.

He began to step out of his hiding place, then hesitated again. What if someone recognises me? he wondered. Or my clothes?

He had stolen a new tunic and breeches from a clothes line on the outskirts of Tarburh. They weren’t much, but they were better than the soiled rags he had been wearing. He felt bare without his jerkin, but that would only attract notice. He was just a humble farmer visiting on market day like the others he could see on the streets.

One. Two. Three. He stepped out onto the dirt street, and headed down to the crowded docks.

They had argued for the rest of the day, as they headed toward Tarburh. They had also argued well into the night, camping without fire, food or bedding. They had even woken him from a deep sleep with their shouting, it got so heated. Falduin was adamant that he would go nowhere near Tarburh, but refused to say why.

Ultimately they all decided to follow Heric and head to Wombourne. They all eventually agreed that there were were no answers back in Milardus. The only way to find out what was happening, and who was behind it, was to head to the mining site.

Ganthe was the only one that slept fitfully. The others, surprisingly even Ifonsa, had difficulties sleeping on the bare ground, but Ganthe had slept in worse places. Much worse, as little as a few nights before. Being out under the sky was truly glorious. He didn’t mind being crawled upon by ants and other crawlies. The thunderous dear leaping through their camp didn’t wake him either.

“How much?” Ganthe asked one of the bargemen. There were an awful lot of them clustered along the dock, trying to hawk their services. There seemed to be few takers.

“Thr’penny each to Harnsey.” The Bargeman said.

“Thr’penny? “

“It’s the going rate.”

“No wonder you’re backed up.”

The bargeman shrugged.

“What if I want to go further up river?”

“We only go up as far as Harnsey,”

Ganthe suspected that. He’d only made the one run upriver, but he knew there were a series of cascades at Harnsey. Going further upriver required porting the barge, which was tough work and cost a lot. It was far easier to transfer to one of the barges plying the upriver route.

“I doubt you’ll find anyone willing to head further upstream though,” the Bargeman continued.

“Why’s that?”

He shrugged, “Nearly all of them have moved down river. Look at them all.” He said pointing at several barges. They were all smaller size than the ones that plied the route between Milardus and Harnsey.

“There’s two of us,” Ganthe said handing over six coins, “with the possibility of a few more. They’ll pay their own way.”

“When do you wish to leave?”

“Midday.”

“We’ll be here.”

His next task was to buy food. Enough for a few days, but not too much. That would attract attention. Falduin had also slipped him a couple of silver gros in the hope of buying a blanket, or something else to sleep on. Ganthe had tried to warn him that he’d have to carry it, but Falduin had been insistent.

The market was crowded, filled mostly with the people from the surrounding farms and hamlets, but there were some that looked as though they were from farther afield. A few might have been of a nobler class, wearing clean linen tunics and coloured woollen hats.

There was quite an array of foods available, but Ganthe wanted stuff that was both light, and compact. Their packs, those that had them, weren’t especially big.

Within half-an-hour he had collected several different types of dried fruit: apples, pears, grapes and even a few apricots. He bought a sizeable sack of cobnuts, a handful of pinenuts, as well as a few walnuts, and salted plums. He also found salted fish, and a streak of dried meat, that he paid too much for. He didn’t feel it was enough. Perhaps a loaf or two of bread might fill out the empty corners.

As he was making his way over to a small stall where he saw some loaves, he heard someone call his name. He hesitated for a moment, then continued without looking back. Nobody knew he was here. Nobody would remember him in any case. His name wasn’t uncommon. They must be calling to someone else.

“Ganthe!” The voice was right behind him. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, “Is that you?”

He turned to see Ancod. He had also served in the militia, although under a different captain.

“It is you!” Ancod squealed. “I can’t wait to tell Balto. He was certain you were dead.”

Ganthe allowed the smile to form of its own accord. “No. Not dead at all.”

“You’re looking well.”

“Hard work. What can I say?” He could feel the lie forming around him. It must be like how Falduin felt when he cast a spell. He sensed the role take over, the words coming automatically. “Farm life agrees with me.”

“You own a farm?”

“Rent. Near Sifield.”

“That’s a long way to come.”

“We’re expecting our first soon. The wife has terrible cravings.” Ganthe said, holding up the bags he was carrying.

“Wow. I would never have guessed that you of all people would settle down.”

“We fought hard for this land. Why not enjoy it? You look well. What’s happened since the war?”

Ancod began moaning about how things were awful, and how he could only find manual work for poor pay. He missed the grand old days when they were fighting The Empire and the goblins. He had tried signing on with several lords but none were interested.

“I’ve just finished some work in Shaybur,” Ancod said. “I’m on my way to Swyn. Word is there’s a bunch of work there. You hear anything?”

Ganthe shook his head. He’d only been half listening, as he usually did when Ancod moaned - which he did a lot. “How’s Balto?” he asked by reflex.

“Last I heard, he’d signed on to a mob working out of Pryleah.”

“Doing what?”

“He wouldn’t say. All hush-hush. Probably a bit on the dodgy-side, you know how he is.”

Ganthe nodded absently. He was just about to ask about Balto’s knee (it was injured during the war), when a flash of dark red cloth amongst the crowd caught his eye. It was the same distinctive shade as the one he’d seen in the valley the day before.

“You wouldn’t have need of some labour on your farm would ya, Ganthe?” Ancod asked.

Then he saw her. Her cloak and hood were red. In the sunlight it looked like the colour of blood. As she moved through the crowd, she kept her hood up, covering her face, but Ganthe could see her long brown hair peeking out every now and again. She was tiny, looking barely taller than a child.

What really gave her away was the two brutes that walked a pace behind her. They were her bodyguards, Ganthe knew. Garbed in the same leather brigandine, and carrying wicked looking swords at their hip. They stood out amongst the peasants and village-folk, who all gave them a wide berth. Carrying swords so openly, Ganthe was a little surprised the bodyguards hadn’t been detained by the watchmen. Perhaps the witch had magicked them or something.

“I wouldn’t normally ask, but I don’t fancy walking all the way to Swyn,” Ancod continued. “ What if the word is wrong? What if there’s no work up there?”

The woman stopped, and turned.

Ganthe only just looked away in time. He got a brief glimpse of her face, much older than he imagined.

He laughed and placed his arm around Ancod. “I need to find a blanket. Let’s discuss it as we shop.”

As they walked away, Ganthe could feel the woman’s gaze boring into his back.

“They’re here,” Ganthe grinned as he whispered in Heric’s ear.

Heric twisted, and had his knife to Ganthe’s throat before he could blink. Ganthe’s grin became a grimace.

Ganthe stumbled back as Heric shoved him away. He almost tripped on a root hidden amongst the leaf litter.

“Idiot,” Heric said, as he pulled his knife away. Then he stormed off.

“Not clever,” Ifonsa said as she emerged from the shadows of an old oak. She lowered her bow and returned the arrow to her quiver.

“Where’s the food?” Falduin asked. He was seated on a log beside Lera. Up until Ganthe’s failed jape, they had been talking quietly with one another, almost like lovers do. Was something going on between them? Ganthe wondered.

“I left it back there,” Ganthe said gesturing behind.

Falduin leapt up and raced toward where Ganthe had pointed, disappearing into the low brush.

““I needed to know if everything was secure here first. You might have been held hostage,” Ganthe added.

“And you just decided to play a dangerous prank?” Ifonsa said. “To make certain?”

“It worked,” Ganthe said, wiping a drop of blood from his throat. “Now I know you’re not hostages.”

“What if we were?”

“I guess I’d have to lead a valiant rescue,” Ganthe flashed her a grin.

“It’s covered in ants,” Falduin cried from the scrub.

“Brush them off,” Ganthe called back, “Unless they’re honey ants. Those are delicious.”

“What is this?” Falduin asked as he emerged from amongst the trees.

In his hands he held the bags of food, and under one arm he carried a heavy blanket coiled up. He dropped the blanket onto the ground in disgust.

“That’s your blanket,” Ganthe said. “It cost quite a lot unfortunately.”

Ganthe unrolled it to reveal the garish pattern, patches of green, yellow and red with a brown border.

“Is that all they had?” Falduin asked.

“Oh no,” Ganthe admitted, “They had lots of really nice ones, but nothing nearly as expensive as this. You gave me two gros, after all. I wanted you to get your money’s worth.”

“You paid two gros for that?” Ifonsa said, laughing.

“Just one,” Ganthe said, “The other one I gave to a friend, who needed passage to Swyn. I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

Falduin was speechless. He kept opening his mouth to speak but no sound would emerge.

“What? Did you buy him a horse?” Ifonsa asked.

“I believe that was his plan.”

“It’s beautiful,” Lera said, running her hand over the blanket. “So soft. I believe you got a bargain.”

“I thought so,” Ganthe agreed. “They wanted much less, but I haggled hard.”

Heric returned, having calmed down. ‘You said they’re here,” he said pointing at Ganthe with his knife. “Who is here?”

“The witch,” Ganthe said, “And about twenty of her disciples.”

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#novel #writing #fantasy #adventure #comedy #magic #progression fantasy

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