Mason Ale Works + Beer Zombies + Craft Beer Kings Crowns, Hammers, and Zombies Hazy Double IPA (Picked up at Windmill Farms). A 3 of 4. Smells of citrus and tropical notes and the body is quite a bit chewier and maltier than I was expecting, though this does help balance the firmly aggressive bitterness in the finish.
In the middle of the zombie apocalypse, Zemo saves Bucky, and the two of them talk. A missing scene (or two) from this week’s episode of What If. Just short of being Winterbaron, really more a Bucky and Zemo character study. If you liked the Bucky & Zemo conversations in You Are Destined To Become, this is on the same train. And if any fanartists out there wanna draw What If style Zemo wielding a sword, I’M JUST SAYING, THAT WOULD BE QUITE COOL.
What if I write a Dying light AU with Night Runner Luke and Pilgrim Din.
I’m mean come on. It would fit so well. Din who travels constantly with no real place in the world. Just looking for work in a post apocalyptic landscape. Luke who wants to travel the world, but is stuck behind the walls of a city, being one of the few people who can protect it.
Luke being one of the kids experimented on, so he had enhanced abilities.
Grogu being rescued by Din, from one of the only labs still experimenting.
Hello! Halloween is getting closer so I was curious, do you have a favorite scary movie? Or a favorite sub-genre of horror? I'm partial to paranormal and religious horror, when it's not littered with boring tropes or predictable jumpscares anyway lol
I recommend watching Midnight Mass then. I just finished it and it was excellent. It has everything you described you wanted and none of what you don't. It's the best thing I've seen in awhile.
Early the next morning a letter arrived for Jane from Netherfield, inviting her to join the group there for an afternoon of charades. “But I shan’t go, Mama,” Jane said after reading out the contents of the letter during breakfast. “There is too much to be done today.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Bennet declared. “You must not miss your chance at Mr. Bingley.”
Lydia laughed. “If I had been invited, there is nothing that could be more important than going. What if they think you terribly boring?”
“They are gracious and good-natured,” Jane said. “I am sure they would not begrudge me attending to my responsibilities.”
“No, Jane, my dear, you must accept. Lizzy is more than capable of completing your chores for the day alongside her own.”
Having not been asked if she were able to do any such thing, Lizzy had to pinch herself to keep from immediately objecting. If Jane had not privately expressed how much she admired Mr. Bingley, she would not have kept her annoyance to herself. Though she understood her Mother’s impatience to see them married, it did not lessen how much the meddling chafed. Jane, of course, immediately saw her discomfort.
“Oh, no, I could not do that to my sister!”
Mrs. Bennet kicked Lizzy under the table and made a face that was clearly supposed to make her agree. Once more she had to fight down her initial instinct to argue, but her desire to see Jane happy was much stronger than her annoyance with her Mother. She smiled and said:
“I am willing to give you up for the day, my dear Jane, so long as you promise me one thing.”
“Anything, Lizzy dear.”
“Do not let them take too much advantage of your good nature—you are too kind for your own good.”
Mrs. Bennet huffed. “Lizzy, do not put such worries in your sister’s head. It will sour her smiles and make the acquaintance all for naught.”
“Oh, I doubt that. Jane’s sweetness and the kindness they are apt to abuse would prevent her from ever begrudging them such behaviour. Indeed, she would likely defend them.”
Jane flushed. “It is not a fault to believe in the goodness of others.”
“Nor is it one to be cautious of those whose full character you have not yet determined. But so long as you are happy in their company, I shall be satisfied.”
“Are you sure?”
“Decidedly so.”
Though Jane did not want to make Lizzy deal with the tasks required of them to prepare Mr. Bennet alone, she could not deny that she very much wished to go to Netherfield, if only to spend a bit more time in the company of a certain gentleman. Between Lizzy’s teasing acceptance and her Mother’s determination to see her wed, there was little more to discuss.
Once Jane was off to Netherfield and Mary, Kitty, and Lydia to Meryton, Mrs. Bennet showed Lizzy a slim little journal with several pages crudely hidden by slipping them behind the back cover’s lining. It would be barely enough to keep them from being discovered upon a casual glance, but Mrs. Bennet was not usually in the habit of needing to hide her musings. Indeed, she wasn’t usually the type to record her musings in the first place.
The hidden pages were covered in painfully neat writing—the only true resemblance to her Mother’s normal hand were the way the tails of the letters slanted to the left, as if they were underlining what came before.
“The man we saw in town before had several rare books he let us read,” she explained. “I wrote out as much as Mr. Bennet and I could remember each night, though he did tease me dreadfully over wanting to keep the knowledge to hand.”
“That’s where you learnt about preparing a body before it rises as a ghoul, then?”
She nodded. “It is barely anything at all, compared to the books he had, but it will have to do.”
With the notes to guide them, Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet spent the afternoon gathering a wide assortment of ingredients from a wide assortment of places. The hay, sawdust, and some of the herbs were simply to procure—clove pink, ground chicory root, and heat-dried elderberry were all kept on hand. The remaining ingredients, however, would prove difficult to gather.
“It isn’t the right time of year for most of these,” Elizabeth pointed out. “And more than one of them are dangerous.”
“Only if you eat them,” Mrs. Bennet replied. “Call on Charlotte. She has a fondness for growing strange things in her Mother’s garden. Perhaps she has some of what we need.”
“Buckthorn and wych elm seeds, perhaps, but I have never her known to press flowers.”
“I still want you to ask. And keep an eye out for prickly knotweed—we will need quite a lot of it.”
Resigned to the task, Lizzy set off for Lucas Lodge. Her approach was spied by the youngest of the Lucas children so, by the time she reached the door, Charlotte was ready to greet her.
“Did I know you were coming for a visit today?” she asked.
“Not at all,” Lizzy reassured her. “My Mother has gotten some ridiculous notions again and bade me come see if you have any seeds we might have.”
Charlotte beamed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I have many seeds! Mama says it is far too many to plant in our garden, so I don’t mind a bit if you want to grow some yourself.”
She gave her friend a weak smile, feeling guilty at her deception. “That would be wonderful, Charlotte dear.”
She grasped Lizzy’s hand and pulled her along to the room she shared with two of her sisters. At present, neither of the younger girls were there, so there was no need to make apologies for the intrusion as Charlotte fetched a wide, but shallow, box from beneath the bed.
“I have black horehound, yellow pimpernel, ragged-Robin, hazel, purple beech, gorse, agrimony, periwinkle, knapweed, alkanet—” Lizzy interrupted the litany of plants with:
“Charlotte, dear, my mother specifically wanted buckthorn and wych elm. Yew as well, if you have.”
She scrunched her nose. “Mama says yew trees are bad luck and that they will make me sick.”
“It is fine if you do not have that one. I knew it would be unlikely.”
She glanced at the open door of the bedroom before grinning. “Don’t tell Mama, but I traded a few of my sweet rose seeds for some. I know I could never grow one, but I needed to have them.”
Lizzy laughed. “Oh, my darling Charlotte, you are a wonder.”
Within a few moments, Lizzy had three small bundled squares of cloth containing the seeds. Charlotte tucked her treasures away and happily chatted about how excited she was to see where Mrs. Bennet would grow her new plants.
“Try not to be too excited, dear,” Lizzy cautioned. “My Mother might change her mind, or forget that she wanted to grow these.” At Charlotte’s crestfallen expression, she quickly added, “But I will try to make sure at least one of each is planted.”
“Oh, thank you Lizzy!”
“No, no, thank you, Charlotte.”
She had just turned to leave when she decided to ask after the other plants they needed. “You wouldn’t happen to have some boneset flowers or St. John’s fruit, would you?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t like having flowers inside. They’re supposed to be outside.”
“Of course. Thank you again for the seeds.”
“You might ask at Netherfield.”
“Netherfield?”
Charlotte nodded. “Mama said that most all the dried flowers were bought up to decorate the place before Mr. Bingley arrived. I suppose dried flowers aren’t as awful as fresh ones, but I still don’t see why people fuss about bringing them inside in the first place. It’s not where they belong.”
“For the smell they provide, I suppose,” Lizzy replied.
She wrinkled her nose again and shook her head. “The smell is too strong when they are inside.”
“That is an excellent point.”
Armed with new information and bundles of seeds, Lizzy made her farewells and hurried back to Longbourn. She slipped inside as quietly as she could, wanting to avoid Mrs. Bennet until she had all the flowers in hand. If she were to tell her Mother that some of what they needed was at Netherfield she worried she would make a spectacle of calling upon the Bingleys, or, worse yet, make Jane make a spectacle of herself. Much better if she took take care fetching it all herself.
Though it would be much quicker to take a horse, one was already with Jane and the other in use in the fields, obliging Elizabeth to walk the distance. Normally, she would have preferred to make such a journey early in the morning, before it grew too warm for such exertion to be strictly comfortable, but it was a nice day and there was no real rush to return home until the evening.
She strayed from the roads almost immediately, rambling across wild fields and through small clusters of trees. Many flowers and trees were in glorious bloom and she paused several times to drink in the quiet beauty of her surroundings. If it had been a bit earlier, or a bit later, in the year they very likely could have foraged for all the things they needed. The thought dampened her spirits momentarily, until the exercise and joy of being out of doors buoyed her back up.
Crossing over fields was a quicker way to reach Netherfield, but it also brought her to the back of the estate. Knowing it was already bordering on rudeness to show up uninvited, she began circling towards the front. It was clear from the state of the grounds that the estate had been vacant for some time. It wasn’t precisely overgrown—the hedges were neatly trimmed and the flowerbeds weeded—but it lacked the vibrancy of a well-tended garden.
She was just coming abreast of the house when she heard, “Miss Bennet, is it not?”
She turned to see Mr. Darcy approaching her. He had spied her from one of the rear windows and, perplexed as to her presence, had decided to go and greet her without informing the rest of the Netherfield party. They were occupied with their game of charades and he had only played a few rounds before begging off and retreating to the relative solitude of reading near an open window.
“Mr. Darcy! I must say I didn’t expect to run into you out here.”
He frowned. “Surely you must know I am staying at Netherfield at present?”
She laughed. “Oh, of course. I simply meant I didn’t expect to see you out taking a stroll through the gardens. Are your friends not inside playing charades? At least, that was what Jane was invited for, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. It is a good thing your sister was able to join them for I am not very fond of it myself.” Darcy was surprised at himself for saying so much. He was not the sort to engage in idle conversation with those he was closely acquainted with, let alone young ladies he had barely met.
“You don’t enjoy dancing, nor charades. What then can be left to entertain?”
He had the distinct impression she was laughing at him, though he couldn’t think of why. Stranger still, he found he did not mind it so much. Not when it brought such a lively sparkle to her gaze. Before he could think overmuch about it, he replied, “A walk through the garden seems a pleasant idea at present.”
Lizzy felt her cheeks grow warm and a spark of indignation flared in the pit of her stomach. Given his remarks at the ball, she could only assume a bit of guilt prompted the offer in the first place. Guilt that Mr. Bingley would have to have drummed up. She lifted her chin and unwaveringly met his gaze. “I thank you, sir, but I have not come this way in search of companionship.”
“What are you looking for then?”
“Flowers.”
“Flowers?”
Her cheeks burned ever hotter. “Yes, flowers. Boneset and prickly knotweed.”
He frowned, the combination tugging at a memory. “I believe it is not the season for boneset.”
“I was hoping I might still find a few blooms.”
“Do they need to be fresh?”
Lizzy blinked. “What?”
“The flowers. Do they need to be fresh, or would dried work?”
“I… dried would be fine.”
He nodded. “If you will wait a moment, I believe there is some inside. Bingley will not mind if you take some, I am sure.”
“Oh! Thank you. Are you sure?”
“I am. A moment, please.”
Without waiting for a response, Darcy turned and headed back inside. Without the estate’s garden having been planted in the spring, there was very little by way of fresh flowers decorating the interior. Bingley’s sisters complained that the dried were not nearly as nice, though they had not appreciated the suggestion of forgoing any such decorations until the next year. It took only a few moments for him to locate a vase full of the tiny, fluffy flowers. He removed half and gave the remainder a half-hearted jostle to settle them back into a pleasing spray of dusty pink.
On his way back out to where Elizabeth waited, he spied a wreath of wheat interwoven with the yellow flowers and red fruit of St. John’s wort. Again, a memory tugged at him. Something about boneset and knotweed and St. John’s wort. Annoyed that he couldn’t grasp the memory, but confident it would eventually return to him, he picked up the wreath and brought it out as well.
“Your flowers, Miss Bennet.”
Her eyes widened and she hesitated a moment before accepting them. “May I ask why… the wreath?”
“I seemed to recall that St. John’s wort was meant to be paired with the other flowers you are after. Was I mistaken?”
She clutched the flowers to her chest and shook her head. “No. You were right. I simply wasn’t expecting it. Thank you.”
He nodded. “Shall we?”
Lizzy blinked, feeling incredibly off-balance and rather slow. “What?”
“I am fairly certain I saw some knotweed over in this direction, though I don’t know if it is the prickly kind. Will that matter much?”
“I…am unsure.”
Darcy seemed to take that as agreement for he set off with the clear expectation that she would follow. She hesitated for an agonizingly long moment before trailing after him. Worries and doubt chased about her mind. She had never heard of pairing the three flowers together before, but surely if he knew the significance, he would not be nearly so polite. If he knew what they were for, why would he have given them to her at all? She pushed the worries aside for when she could dedicate more time to thinking it over. Worrying herself silly would be no help and would only arouse suspicion, if she hadn’t already.
His memory had served him well in this regard, and the prickly knotweed was where he said it would be. Once she had almost more flowers than she could carry, she bid him farewell and hurried home. He stood outside, watching her leave for some time, his own thoughts far more tangled than he was used to. There was something perplexing yet intriguing about the second-eldest Miss Bennet. Eventually he gave himself a shake and headed back inside.
Miss Caroline Bingley was waiting for him and wasted no time in asking, “Whatever were you doing out there for so long?”
“I was not gone very long.”
“Must you always wander off in the midst of a game?”
He fought back a sigh. “You know very well that I am not fond of charades.”
“There are other games we can play; you don’t need to stomp around outside by yourself.”
“I was not alone.”
Caroline Bingley instantly went from petulant to annoyed-but-curious. “Oh? I don’t recall anyone else leaving.”
“I was with Miss Bennet.”
“Impossible, she is still in the drawing room with the others.”
“The eldest Miss Bennet is, yes. I was walking with the next Miss Bennet.”
Her curiosity withered and annoyance sharpened into something very similar to jealousy. “Is this the start of a great romance? Shall I be the first to congratulate you on a match, well.... not well-made. Not with a Mother such as they have. Once you are married, you must endeavour to teach your new Mother-in-Law proper manners.”
“Your mind flies to the strangest of fancies. It was simply a walk, nothing more.”
Though Caroline was not fully satisfied—there was no reason she could think of for why Miss Lizzy Bennet would have been so nearby beyond a manipulative attempt at securing Darcy’s affections—she was, at least, reassured that he was not in any danger of being smitten with the second-eldest Miss Bennet.
(Read Chapter 7 Here)
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