Barrel of Breadcrumbs

Leo and Jules: We Write Things

  • Mourning

    It was a happy time. All around me there were celebrations and festivals being planned, banners being strewn up, breads being baked, children learning little plays to put on. I should have been happy, too. The great and fearsome knight Llywelyn had defeated the dark mage Balizar, the great death, the necromancer that had been…

  • Part I – II, continued (The Sleeping Castle)

    Percy could not say why he unfolded himself out of the comfort of his bedroll; would not say it if he knew why. Not even if he was pressed paper-thin by Mr Henning’s inquisitorial enthusiasm whenever he decided to examine Percy on his lessons. But the doing of something did not depend on it being understood by…

  • Part I – II (The Sleeping Castle)

    He left at dawn. That was when heroes left their homes, and now was not the time for missteps. Any earlier would have been suspicious; any later would have been underwhelming. He bid his goodbyes to his parents, and it felt, as it ever did with them, leaden with expectations. He despised rising so early:…

  • Part I – I (The Sleeping Castle)

    Percy belonged to that noble breed of people for whom resentment aged like a fine wine. Neighbourly disagreements and simple misunderstandings could only become great family feuds if allowed to linger and grow. Some would say that they festered, but Percy’s family was too grand to allow anything to fester: it simply allowed them to…

  • Schroedinger’s Summons

    So you’ve either summoned a horrible, world-ending demon, or a chipmunk? And you won’t know until you open the summoning portal again? “Yes.” I shouldn’t need to tell you that this is a failing grade for the course. “No, no, I figured that. I just want you to fix it and I’ll retake the class…

  • The Meet-Cute

    I couldn’t believe it. Two months of waiting for the local apothecary to get this specific flower in stock, one that was picked on the other side of the world at the height of the fourth full moon. And here was some kid, claiming that it was his. I was the only witch for a…

  • The Magician

    The graceful stroke of a brush, the flowing line of ink following in its wake. Lines crisscrossing on what amounted to paper this far away from Earth. Alessia dipped the brush into the next color—blue, for a successful terraforming—as the crowd looked on in appreciation. Her little stand at the market on base always drew…

  • Obligatory Introductory Post

    We don’t know what we’re doing, but here’s our secret: we know you don’t, either. Let’s flail our arms together as we run screaming into the forest. Anyway. We’re Leo and Jules. We write stuff sometimes. We write fantasy and sci fi, and gay stuff. We also write about music sometimes, or travel, or the…

Wanna chat?

Get In Touch