#dirk steadfast

[triptychgardener]

Rose, Kanaya and June Livestream themselves watching anime and roasting it

Dirk begins planning a murder.

JUNE: haha, anyways this full metal alchemist thing is pretty silly sometimes. i mean, they sort of do let a kid basically get government funding and superpowers, what's with that? JUNE: um, okay, puppet_master1111, i get that's probably a point of it, but i don't know! he's like, what, 12? that is totally unreasonable. JUNE: i don't see what my personal history has to do with this at all. JUNE: okay, mods, please ban him. JUNE: *sigh* JUNE: okay that didn't work. KANAYA: Okay I Will Ask Sollux To Stop Helping Him ROSE: And I'll ask Roxy to do the same. I do agree that it certainly does fall further onto the side of centrism when it comes to the war crimes committed by our principal protagonists. KANAYA: I Like Alfred He Is Quite Steadfast And Devoted KANAYA: Oh Sorry I Got That Wrong KANAYA: Alonso KANAYA: Apologies For The Error puppet_master111: You can't do this to me.

#asks #anon #june #rose #kanaya #dirk

[svetzzi]

knightklok stuff Is it headcanons or an au? I don’t know, but either way I sure as hell wrote about it.

Timeline: 1450’s-1480’s

Main Location: Pre-Sherborne/Sherborne, Sherborne Abbey Cathedral

Content Warnings: Character death, Christendom, religious fundamentalism, mentions of torture, mentions of social and systemic racism, mention of alcoholism.

Note: I subscribe to the implication that Dethklok, or even so the other people foretold in the prophecy, have been subjected to reincarnation for eons. Whether or not reincarnation is a normal aspect for everyone’s life-death cycle in the Metalocalypse universe is unknown to me as of writing this, but here I am making it certain for the pawns of the prophecy. Personally I find that the prophecy cave art in season 4,  the “ancient animal forms” from season 2 and onward, and the lyrics of Blazing Star are evidence for this notion. Every force included in the prophecy are doomed to their fates; despite being placed in deadly situations time and time again, they can make it out totally unscathed until their death. Said deaths may seem sudden or untimely on a surface level, but they are always decided by destiny or the universe (or perhaps The Devil if we lean more into the Satanic narrative). Here we see a version of Dethklok from their long line of reincarnations (that also happen to be ancestral to the present-day members), who had failed to fulfill the prophecy and thus had to die and start over.

If there are severe historical inaccuracies, then my apologies, I am not a buff and I made this for fun. If it helps to ease the pain at all, I am certain if this were to actually happen in the show, it would also be incredibly historically inaccurate.

I am also not Catholic, so some things may be wonky in that context as well.

Noah Eruption

Nationality: English / Roma

Weapon: Morningstar

The surname Eruption evolved to Explosion as the English language advanced.

His looks and demeanor forgave his non-chivalrous attitude, however being a man of few words made the public mistake him for chivalrous. Nonetheless his stature and steadfast fighting ability granted him both knighthood and the role of leader for the Sherborne Guard. Born in Canterbury, Noah traveled to Sherborne for personal independence and to no longer deal with those that knew of his mixed Romani bloodline. His morningstar was his closest companion.

Fled and retired to The Western Isles post-exile. In retirement he turned to cattle farming.

Death: Drowning (reason ruled unknown, speculated to be either suicide or accident)

Aengus “Picil (The Ruthless)” Barrel

Nationality: Irish 

Weapon: Dual-Wielded Scottish Dirks

The surname Barrel derives from his English grandfather’s favourite pub.

Picil, freeloader son of a shepherd, lived at his village’s pub. Of course, this habit kind of ruined his life and reputation within his hometown, however he did get some decent knife-tossing skills out of it. The pub eventually changed ownership, and consequently he was banned for being a pest. In some spark of clarity, the young man decided to start off on a clean slate. He packed a bottle for the road and headed for England (I reiterate short-lived clarity was mentioned, not intelligence). As a stumbling Irishman his time living there was incredibly difficult, but upon meeting Noah and Bishop Offgyrdd seemingly by coincidence he was “taken in,” so to speak.

And yes, his classic dirks slightly resemble penises, like God intended.

Fled to Wales post-exile.

Death: Went into the wood at night in a typical drunken stupor and was never seen again.

William “The Barbarian” “The Royal Guard’s Boil” “Barnacle Meat” Murdgruff

Nationality: English-Italian/Ethiopian (see Medieval Ethiopian Discovery of Europe) 

Weapon: Battle Axe

William Murdgruff fled from Italian slums as a young adult, in fear of further discrimination and possible death. He hid in a cart of hay bales and went wherever it took him. Sherborne did not treat him much better upon his arrival, even less so than expected, but the Bishop of the village saw his potential. Murdgruff then proved himself to be a merciless fighter, and with the strong persuasion of Bishop Offgyrdd, he was knighted by the Lord and assigned to the small guard sanctioned in that very town. An exchange was brought in return for his knighthood– that he would keep his appearance a secret from the public, as it would damage the church’s reputation. They even commissioned a custom helmet in order for him to fulfill such an order. He did as told, however that did not stop him from becoming the town’s punching bag due to how he held himself (and having the most non-chivalrous of attitudes, obviously). 

Fled to Germany post-exile.

Death: Tortured and Executed via Wheel at the beginning of The Werewolf Trials after fleeing to Germany.

Sigfrøðr / Sighfridh Swkigelf 

Nationality: Geat 

Weapon: Knightly Sword, though prefers Falchion

Irregular for the time and place, Sighfridh was born to closeted Heathen parents. Their Geatland patriotism imprinted onto him, but he found himself drawn to the Christian environment surrounding his family. Sighfridh saw himself not only in Odin, but in both the Lutheran and Catholic depictions of the Lord. In interest of visiting an authentic Roman Catholic cathedral, he decided to journey west. His stay in England was supposed to be temporary, especially after Toki began to accompany him on his journey, but finding good work with the Sherborne Guard (along with acclaim from all the English ladies…) Sighfridh stayed until the group’s exile.

Before England, Sighfridh was an ice harvester.

Returned to Scania post-exile.

Death: Disease of Totally Unknown Origin (it was definitely not syphilis).

Toki Wartúþr

Nationality: Norwegian/Norse

Weapon: Knightly Sword

(To my knowledge the name Toki has existed since like ~7th Century AD, so I find it perfectly sensible that the name Toki would be present multiple times throughout his family tree.)

He was a Sami boy adopted by Christian parents as a babe. Blessed with the spirit of death, his parents eventually blamed him for the unorthodox deaths of crops and farm animals, even if he was not tending to or near the area at the time of death. Their negative superstition surrounding their son grew more, soon blaming him for the rot of their food and the harsher winters. Believing him to embody the antichrist, they intended to kill him, but Toki found this out and escaped before they could execute their plan. He was a homeless wanderer for years, getting by on stolen goods and river water. It was when he ran into the traveling Sighfridh that Toki finally found some sort of path in life. To Sighfridh’s dismay, Toki was enamored with him and his journey, and so tagged along. 

Exiled.

Death: Murdered.

Bishop Offgyrdd

Nationality: English/Welsh

Weapon: Holy text, witchcraft, sabre

Under the guidance of his most trusted companion, Sherborne’s Archbishop, Offgyrdd was devoted to the underbelly of the church. He typically kept an eye out for any newcomers during the day, and was a transcriber at night. Before the mysterious and gruesome death of Canterbury’s Archbishop, Offgyrdd was– although emotionally distant– an average abbott. Even though transcribing was work for a lower monk, Offgyrdd happily took on the task for The Church of The Black Klok. The loose lips on the group of knights he brought together was ultimately his, their, downfall. From Sherborne Castle, the royal guard was demanded to put an end to this heresy, but they refused. Because they liked Offgyrdd. He was pretty nice to them after all, you know? Their Lord allowed for word— panic— to get out due to this. Reeves and the rest of the general public ended up taking matters into their own hands. The traitorous royal guard’s executions were debated. The enraged mob was still somehow infatuated with them, despite their association with witches. Out of fear of his own life, the Lord mercifully damned the knights to exile. After the beheading of the Archbishop, the last thing Offgyrdd saw was Noah watching his demise from among the crowd.

Thankfully, the actual Black Klok meeting grounds were never found by authorities. 

Death: Executed; burned at stake.

#I’m kinda forcing myself to post this #feels justified with how much time I put into it #I understand things aren’t fully fleshed out either so take it as you will #metalocalypse #fan art #svetzstuff #hope y’all like the art at least <3 #also thanks so much if you read all that..

[nebbychan]

Consider this to be a re-do for Kiya and Palethorn. Kiya, I felt like she needed a proper sheet while Palethorn could’ve done with a complete redesign.

If Mander can be a salamander (a suggestion from a good friend of mine, @evajellion), Dogman’s a bulldog, the Count is a bat, and Zarok is a snake, why couldn’t Palethorn look more like a goat?

Other Character Designs

Kiya and Palethorn (Version 1.0)

The Spiv and Madame Jo-Jo

Professor Hamilton Kift

Winston Chapelmount and Al-Zalam

The Count and the Vampire Girl

Mander and Dogman

Zarok and Lord Kardok

Mr. Organ and the Ghost Ship Captain

The Pumpkin Witch and the Forest Witch

Hall of Heroes

Imanzi Shongama and Prince Ravenhooves

Stanyer Iron Hewer and Megwynne Stormbinder

Dirk Steadfast and Karl Sturnguard

Bloodmonath Skull Cleaver and Woden the Mighty

Canny Tim and Sir Daniel Fortesque

#nebby sketches #medievil #medievil 2 #medievil resurrection #honestly it’s funny how I keep saying that I’m done but I’m actually not

[alainas-sims]

Alexandrea's Diary

We held Héctor's funeral today as his body was finally sent back home. It took over a month but it was worth it for that closure so that we could properly grieve. We are fortunate enough that his body was recovered— many soldiers' families are not so fortunate as their loved ones are buried where they fell. I adorned his grave with a bouquet of sunflowers, which I felt fit my darling Héc's sunny personality.

Everyone who had known Héctor attested to his courage, his positivity, and his strength. Hardest of all was to see his parents, Consuelo and Andrés. Consuelo said that she could not help but be reminded of her sister, Héctor's mother, who had died shortly after giving birth to him, and how his short life mirrored hers. "Luisa named him Héctor— steadfast, the tragic Trojan king of the Greek legend. I could see my hermana's smile on his bright face."

It was so hard to try to explain the permanence of death to Gloria, who is but a mere three years old. Poor darling barely had the chance to get to know her father. After the ceremony, I was greeted by Dirk, who had been sent home on account of losing a leg, and learning to walk with a prosthesis and crutches. He told me that he had something he would give to me at a later time.

"Héctor wanted me to give you his journal," he said. "That day my leg had to be amputated... he saved my life. We were in Normandy and there were many casualties that day, not just Héc. My leg had been pierced by a shell. I could not walk, it hurt so much, and he carried me to safety until a medic could arrive. I never got to thank him. I would be dead if it weren't for Héctor."

"He really did love you, Alex. You were his world, the reason he fought so hard. You must know that." And I did.

#Marquez 1940 #Marquez gen6 #Alexandrea Cole #Salvador Morales #Gloria Morales #Dirk Dreamer #Katherine West #Consuelo Huntington #Andrés Morales #Holly Alto #Venessa Jeong #Esperanza Cortes #ts4 historical #ts4 gameplay #random decades challenge #1940s #war tw #injury tw #limb loss tw #blood tw #this one was a doozy #long post

[torscrawls]

Knock Knock

Danny gets to reenact every space horror story that’s ever been written. He loves every second of it.

This is chapter 5 of a story called Space Case. If you want to, you can read the whole thing on AO3!

Transit to Mars

There was a sudden knock on the hatch.

The hatch leading outside, right into open space.

Dirk Jemison looked around. No one was supposed to be out on a spacewalk right now and he could have sworn that he had seen everyone inside. Besides, he was fairly certain that he would have noticed, or at least been told, if they changed the plans enough for a sudden walk outside. Even if this was his first mission.

The knocking came again.

Maybe he was simply imagining things? They had been flying for a long time now and were finally past the half-way point towards their destination of Mars, but the silence and isolation could get to them all sometimes.

Maybe they were flying through an unplanned cluster of small meteorites or space debris. He wasn’t in charge of navigation, but as the ship’s mechanic he felt like he should have been alerted if they expected to go through an area that could potentially damage the ship. He nodded to himself, even if he didn’t like the thought of not being included it was an easier answer than there being someone out there.

He almost laughed at himself and his wild imagination. Of course no one was out there! There also wasn't any oxygen for someone to breathe so there couldn't be someone outside—

The knocking came again, and Dirk got the distinct impression that whoever they were was getting impatient.

"Guys?!" Dirk called out.

"What?!" Came Commander Perez’s voice from down the hall. "Use the coms!"

Dirk tapped his com and whispered into it, "Commander. I—I know this sounds insane, but I think there's—I think there's someone outside."

The knocking came again, definitely impatient now.

The crackling sound of a big sigh came through the coms before Dirk heard the sounds of Commander Perez making her way down the corridor. 

 She gestured for him to get back before walking up to the door with an exasperated expression, and then proceeded to promptly press her face against the door as she screamed, "Damnit, Fenton! Just get in here, no need to scare the new recruits all the time!"

 Dirk jumped at the sudden sound and stared at his commander in bewilderment, and if he was being honest, a bit of disappointment. He had thought Commander Perez was rational, calm, steadfast, but clearly he had been wrong. She had been part of the moon project for several years, after all, and was one of NASA’s most experienced astronauts. But this was her first mission as commander, and maybe the stress was getting to her.

 He cleared his throat and tried to be delicate as he said, "Commander I don't think—"

 Before he could finish his sentence he was interrupted by the sudden sight of a young man stepping through the door leading outside with a shit eating grin on his face.

 Commander Perez crossed her arms at the same time as Dirk took a stumbling step backwards. Where had he come from? 

 Perez simply raised one unimpressed eyebrow and asked in a dry voice, "Are you having fun?" 

 The young man—Fenton, according to Perez’s earlier shouting—smiled even wider with eyes glittering with mirth. "You know I am." He stopped inside the door before making a show of stretching out his arms and approaching Commander Perez as if for a hug. "Hi Cecilia, I missed you!" 

 She sidestepped him easily. "Can't say the same." 

 "Harsh!" 

 “And you should call me Perez. I’m the Commander now and since we work for the same organization we should remain professional.”

 This thing had a job? At NASA?? Nobody had breathed a word about anything even close to this during his training. He didn't have any memory of anyone named Fenton on the list of people that was supposed to be on the station. He also had never seen the man before in his life and they were a long way from Earth, no way in hell he would have been able to hide on the ship this whole time.

 Fenton didn’t seem to take Perez’s admonishment to heart as he smiled and said, “Oooh! Moving up, huh? Congrats!”

 “You would have known about it if you ever came to visit.”

 “Aww, don’t be like that! You know I’ve been really busy. They are working me like a slave.”

 Dirk was watching the exchange like a tennis-match, his attention bouncing from one person to the other as his brain did its best to make sense of the situation. His only solace was that Fenton had barely seemed to acknowledge his presence so far and he was adamant it stayed that way.

 “You’ve been scouting out our landing space on Mars haven’t you? I’ve seen the reports.”

 Fenton laughed and Dirk flinched at the way it seemed to echo in the slightly cramped corridor. Unnatural, something deep inside of him said as he took another step away from the thing Perez was talking to.

 Fenton didn’t acknowledge Dirk’s paling face as he smiled and answered Perez with an enthusiastic, “I have! And I can’t wait to show you! It’s so pretty there and there is this awesome network of what I think were once glaciers in the northern hemisphere that seems perfect for the settlement. I’ve been running tests on the soil there and have found it to be…”

 As Fenton rambled on, Dirk could have sworn his freckles started glowing. Aaaand that was enough for him. He had not signed up for this.

 Dirk cleared his throat, set on stopping this insane conversation and making his world make sense again, but all he managed was a slightly strangled, “Commander.”

 It did succeed in stopping Fenton’s rambling and grabbing Perez’s attention as she looked at him with sudden sympathy. “Sorry, Jemison. It’s okay.” Was it?! She turned back to Fenton with a smile before it suddenly dropped into a frown. “It’s nice to see you, but you know you need to go log your arrival before we talk. I know for a fact that you read the new regulations.”

 “Oooh, it took you a while to remember.” Fenton winked with a smile. “You’re getting lax Commander Perez!”

 “I wasn’t expecting you to pop in all the way out here! We’re in the middle of nowhere.” She stopped, frowned. “Where did you even come from? Is this another one of your portals again—?” She stopped again, shook her head. “You know what? Don’t answer that.”

 Fenton adopted an exaggeratedly offended look with a hand to his chest and wide eyes. "This time I knocked first!" 

 "You scared Jemison half to death! We’ve talked about this, Danny!"

 And to Dirk's great disappointment and horror this turned the man's, the beings, attention to him. 

 Fenton looked Dirk up and down before extending a hand in greeting, "Hello Jemison! I'm Danny. Welcome to space." 

 "Don't shake his hand, Jemison. We don’t want to encourage him. Fenton, go to the terminal. It takes one damn second."

 Fenton gave her an overly serious salute, "Yes ma’am!"

 He walked through the wall, hands behind his head and whistling. 

 "And use the door!" Perez called after him.

 Dirk stared at the point on the wall where Danny had disappeared, at Perez, back at the wall, before landing back on Perez again. "What the fuuuck…?" 

 "Yeah, sorry about that. His existence is kind of… classified?" Perez said and at least had the decency to wince at the absolutely crazy implications of her words.

 "Who is he? What is he??" 

 Commander Perez flinched slightly. "Not a what. He's Danny Fenton, a researcher for NASA." 

 "Researcher?!" He was like no researcher Dirk had ever seen.

 She nodded. "Yes. He works for NASA, even if parts of his job are… slightly under the radar.” She shrugged. "He's a great guy, really."

 Dirk was silent and Commander Perez continued on with a smile, as if she honestly thought this was all perfectly normal and fine. "He's actually working towards becoming an astronaut himself, believe it or not." 

 "Well I don't. Believe it." Dirk stated before he gave a frustrated huff and gestured angrily towards the door that Fenton had come in through— walked in through. "You can't just walk around in space as if it's nothing…! You can't just walk through walls!" 

 "Wow, closed-minded much?"

 The voice from behind him made Dirk jump, and he whirled around to find himself face to face with Fenton himself. "I—You—I don't—" 

 Fenton reached out and patted him on the shoulder, Dirk was distantly surprised that the other man felt solid. "It's okay man, there's a lot of things to take in out here. No worries, you'll have a looooot of time to get used to it."

 He turned towards Commander Perez with a big smile. “Now. I heard you were in need of some new cables?”

 “So this wasn’t a simple social call?”

 “Aww, did you miss me?” Danny asked with a smile that squinted his eyes into crescents, sitting atop his starlit cheeks.

 “I’ll throw you back out the airlock.”

 Dirk watched them bicker as they walked off down the corridor.

 The next day he found the cables he had been complaining about missing lying at his workstation. Maybe he could get used to some of the strange things out here.

#dp #danny phantom #dp fanfic #danny phantom fic #phic #astronaut danny #my writing #he is a ghost and he should be allowed to be spooky sometimes #space case

[memedievil]

#medievil #Gallowmere democracy #hall of heroes #《 Fortesque is not an option because we know of y'all so called 'free thinkers' 》 #《 we have polls now and we will use them for the worst. you're welcome <3 》

[dirkcresswcll]

THE CAST.

Dirk did not attempt the Patronus Charm until he joined the Order of the Phoenix - and, only then, because it was something everyone was at least required to attempt for communication. It just... wasn’t easy for him. The abstract magic didn’t compute with his very analytical thinking. When casting a patronus, one can’t just look at the numbers.

So it took Dirk a long time to be able to just get a wisp of something... and then even longer to get a fully-fledged patronus. It took the form of a turtle which, after all that effort, seemed rather lackluster and, in Dirk’s mind, a bit embarrassing.

Now, he can produce something fairly consistently, but whether or not it is corporeal is up in the air. He can bring out the turtle about half the time, with the other half being wisps of silver that don’t really help in communication, but might hold back dementors just enough. He’s just glad that patronuses aren’t as fast (or, in his case, slow) as their animal counterparts.

THE WHY.

When it comes to the social aspect of a turtle, they’re rather shy and quiet. They feel protected by their shell, along with their ability to hide it in, particularly when they are facing some sort of danger. Once they have withdrawn into that shell, it takes a long time for them to reemerge and feel safe again. Turtles feel quite comfortable being alone, though they also do not mind companionship. Sometimes, turtles can feel territorial, especially when it comes to a chosen companion. 

However, turtles are very intelligent. Though they may startle easily, they also can recognize danger and know when is the best time to retreat or when they should continue outside their shell. Turtles are one of the longest living creatures in existence - with that, comes wisdom. Due to their slow nature, a turtle show incredible persistence and endurance. The spirit animal in the form of a turtle is a reminder to slow down.

Turtle symbolism represents steadfastness, protection, and healing. Many cultures view of death of a turtle as a negative omen or bad luck, while the protection of one is said to bring strength and good luck. The turtle represents a feeling of coming home. 

#dirk | headcanon #dirk | character development

[captainfortesque]

#dirk steadfast #MediEvil Resurrection #I’m tryina cope #mevil

[pumpkingeorge]

#medievil #haunted house meme #Karl sturnguard #dirk Steadfast #they're very expressive

[chocodiaxa]

In the spanish version, Dirk Steadfast is Andalusian. xD I love it.

#medievil #dirk steadfast #andalusian #spanish version

[katsidhe]

could you share the descriptions of the answers? I'm bad at answering these quizzes cause I always get like 3 answers that fit but in different circumstances so I like seeing all of the descriptions

Yeah sure! I too wish uquiz gave an option to see all the result descriptions... alas. 

anyway here’s a wall of text, go nuts. 

DEAN-CODED DEAN GIRL

You might just be the hero of a YA fantasy novel or an action movie, because you have Big Protag Energy. You’re self-centered and extremely giving at the same time: you expect and demand absolute loyalty, just as you provide the same. Your love can move mountains, but if you’re not careful that same love can be suffocating or controlling. You’re volatile: you’ll cut a bitch and you don’t care who knows it. You’ll kick their ass. You’ll kick their dog’s ass. You’ll kick your own ass. You have a one-liner for every occasion. Your friends like you but would describe you as “a lot.” You’re magnetic: your charisma and sheer bull-headedness mean you stand out in every room. You’re polarizing, and you know it, but that doesn’t bother you: you know you’re right, and even when you’re wrong, you’re at least entertaining. You’re very “do as I say, not as I do:” you’re a bit of a hypocrite, but, like, in a fun way.  

Holotypes include: Dean Winchester (Supernatural), Thomas Jefferson (Hamilton), Sirius Black (Harry Potter), Kathryn Janeway (Star Trek: Voyager), Katara (ATLA), Vriska Serket (Homestuck)

DEAN-CODED SAM GIRL

You are a charmer and a people-pleaser. You’re charismatic to a fault, when you want to be: whether consciously or not, you have a razor-keen sense of how others see you, and you mold yourself to expectations. You can either talk circles around most people, or you come across as so fundamentally honest that you gain everyone’s trust without trying. Your affable persona is built on a rock-solid sense of purpose. You have a steadfast, deadset fixation on your goals, which you know in your heart to be worth any cost and any sacrifice. Armed with iron conviction, you’re a rebel with a cause. Is it paranoia if they really are all out to get you? When you inevitably win, the whole world will know your name. Your strong sense of self will carry you through any hardship. Your friends look up to you, but they don’t always “get” you. 

Holotypes include: Lucifer (Supernatural), Eponine (Les Mis), Count Olaf (A Series of Unfortunate Events), Prince Zuko (ATLA), Samwise Gamgee (LOTR), Karkat Vantas (Homestuck)

DEAN-CODED CAS GIRL 

Like all Dean-coded people, you are charming and affable, and you talk a big game. You might be the class clown or a popular athlete, or otherwise one of them cool kids, but underlying that public persona is a certain quiet idealism. You keep your strong convictions close to your heart, even when far from home or beset by strife. You’re fiercely loyal and you crave being around people, but you can see when your friends need space, and you can get along okay on your own. You’re not afraid to change your opinions if new information comes to light. Strangers find you easy to get along with: you tend to go along with the group, and you’re a team player no matter what needs to get done. Your chill-to-pull ratio is sky-high.

Holotypes include: Ahsoka (Star Wars), Meg (Supernatural), Percy Jackson (Percy Jackson), Ginny Weasley (Harry Potter), Boromir (LOTR), Jon Snow (Game of Thrones)

SAM-CODED DEAN GIRL

You come across as level headed, but you’re never more than an inch from going off the rails. Your highest values are love and personal loyalty, but you’re pragmatic about it, and you try very hard not to put unfair expectations on other people, with varying degrees of success. You spend a lot of time dealing with expectations; it’s something you either grapple with, or lean into to use to your own ends. You value your own sense of identity, but that identity can get subsumed by your loyalties. You can easily get pulled in or suborned by strong personalities. You keep secrets, both from yourself and from others. Who you want to be is at odds with how you see yourself. People meeting you for the first time might say you’re aloof. You have lots of strong opinions, but you usually keep them to yourself… unless provoked. Careful; you bite. 

Holotypes include: Mary Winchester (Supernatural), Harry Potter (Harry Potter), Aragorn (LOTR), Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars), Julian Bashir (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine), Katniss Everdeen (Hunger Games) 

SAM-CODED SAM GIRL

Gifted kid (diagnosis). You were and maybe still are an outsider, and because of that you’ve had to learn to be self-sufficient and confident in your own abilities. You’re a fiercely independent overachiever, and you’ve fought hard for every inch. Somewhere inside you is a hot, long simmering rage born from the injustice of the world, but it’s buried very deep. You’d be more than content to be alone for long periods of time. You have sometimes crippling perfectionism: if you aren’t succeeding, it’s your fault for not trying hard enough. You’ll pick every kind of intellectual fight and throw yourself into playing devil’s advocate just to improve your understanding: you see the gray areas in everything. You’re aggressively big-picture. You want to, no, you MUST change the universe, but you don’t need to take credit for it. Your few friends might describe you as callous, but you know you’re just being realistic: you’ve got a harsh, clear-eyed sense of the world. No pain, no gain, and really, if you do the math, no single individual is all that important in the grand scheme of things.  

Holotypes include: Kevin Tran (Supernatural), Jean Valjean (Les Miserables), Emperor Palpatine (Star Wars), Neville Longbottom (Harry Potter), Frodo Baggins (LOTR), Dirk Strider (Homestuck), Luke Castellan (Percy Jackson)

SAM-CODED CAS GIRL

You have a strong sense of how the world ought to be, but you have no overriding vision or big master plan: you take life day by day to fix the little things you can. You have very few close relationships, but those you have you treasure dearly. You support your few friends unconditionally, but you tend to be emotionally distant with acquaintances. You may be a bit of a pushover. You often find yourself put in the position of mediator. You loathe conflict, so you avoid it unless absolutely necessary--but once you’re truly angry, you’ll stop at nothing to see justice done. You’re a diplomat and an advocate: you are deeply idealistic, but you’re nevertheless strongly grounded in a pragmatic sense of achieving what you can. Philosophy is action, action is philosophy; you like meditation and self-improvement and have probably done at least one juice cleanse. Both friends and strangers describe you as quietly dependable. If you can’t see the trauma, the trauma can’t see you! That’s just science!

Holotypes include: Sam Winchester (Supernatural), BJ Hunnicut (M*A*S*H), Jean-Luc Picard (Star Trek: The Next Generation), Aang (ATLA), Luke Skywalker (Star Wars), Nico di Angelo (Percy Jackson)

CAS-CODED DEAN GIRL

Much of your identity is tied up in a set of core beliefs - to the point where those beliefs might be strong enough to override your identity. You’re not beholden to any outside system. If you’re comfortable serving a larger common goal, it’s because you believe in it wholeheartedly. You’re action-oriented: you act first, and think later, or possibly never. You judge your friends solely based on what they do, and you tend to hold people accountable for any unforeseen consequences of their choices. You have strong personal loyalties. You’re not at the center of your social circle, but your friends trust you implicitly and the leader of your group tends to confide in you. You don’t seek power, but you’re also not afraid of taking charge, and you may find power thrust upon you. If you do find yourself in a position of leadership, you struggle with going too far or taking your friends in an unexpected direction. Whether you’re fighting in a war or making yourself a sandwich, you go hard in the motherfuckin’ paint.

Holotypes include: Castiel (Supernatural), Javert (Les Miserables), Captain Rex (Star Wars), Kanaya Maryam (Homestuck), Worf (Star Trek), Albus Dumbledore (Harry Potter)

CAS-CODED SAM GIRL

I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you’re a bit weird. You are spacey or odd or otherwise out of step with how people think you should act, but that’s fine. It doesn’t matter what they think, because if you’re sure of one thing, it’s that you should never mold your unique identity to other people’s expectations. You live internally: you’re all about grand, world-changing concepts, whether they be philosophical, artistic, or mathematical. You are grounded in the reality that you are one person and one viewpoint among many others, but that doesn’t stop you from writing your nine-hundred page thesis on the topic you’re passionate about. You can justify just about anything by the virtue of your personal convictions arising almost entirely from within yourself. Your identity can get swept up in your big ideas. You’re easier to sway with logic than with emotion, but you don’t feel the need to confine yourself with such terms: you operate on both vibes and flowcharts. You move through the world with the assurance that you are the master of your own fate, and you are unburdened by worrying about the opinions of others. You won’t let yourself feel pinned down by one social group; you float in and out comfortably, depending on how you’re feeling. Friends and strangers describe you as “spooky.”

Holotypes include: Azazel (Supernatural), Luna Lovegood (Harry Potter), Aaron Burr (Hamilton), Princess Azula (ATLA), Yoda (Star Wars), Jadzia Dax (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine), Terezi Pyrope (Homestuck)

CAS-CODED CAS GIRL

You are chaotic and excitable. You’re swayed by the drive to explore: the greatest good is to understand the universe and your place in it. You’ve got big ideas, and you’re drawn to new experiences, but you don’t necessarily understand what’s going on. You might be a part of a bigger social machine, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be defined on its terms: you’ll self-actualize if it kills you. You identify new objects by licking them. You can see the strings of the world; what will you choose? You’ll take the reins and see where they take you. You say you’re following your own path. Your friends say you don’t know what you’re doing. Pragmatism? Never heard of her. A dream is a vision is a reality; ideas are the world writ large. You might be a prophet or a visionary. With your head in the clouds, you’re sometimes divorced from both reality and consequences. You’re usually on the outside looking in, and you don’t want to be. People think they understand you, but they definitely don’t. Your friends and enemies describe you as impulsive and mysterious. 

Holotypes include: Raphael (Supernatural), Uncle Iroh (ATLA), Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter), Data (Star Trek: The Next Generation), Obi-Wan Kenobi (Star Wars), Gandalf (LOTR)

#x coded y girl #i speaks #my quiz #long post for ts #why doesn't uquiz give that as an option? #and while we're at it why won't uquiz let me click one button to read all the text box responses ppl gave me :( #aromanticbristlefrost

[bleachanimefan1]

Medievil Resurrection Part Five

Welcome To The Hall Of Heroes,

Dan and Lynne felt their feet lift up from the ground as they were pulled into the chalice. Soon they were sent skyrocketing into the clouds. Dan and Lynne were met with the hard floor as they crashed. Lynne fell unconscious when she landed on her back. Dan, however, wasn't as graceful, as he had landed on his head, detaching himself from his body. Dan groaned painfully and slowly opened his eye to see his body stumbling around and walking straight into the wall. How embarrassing!?

"Oi, you!" Dan called out to his body. "I'm over here!" His body turned around, following the sound of his voice, searching for his head. After several attempts and a few kicks to the head, Dan was finally back on his body again. He looked around to see Mary Lynne still out cold and lying on the ground. Maybe, it was for the best. Dan left her and started to explore, to find out where they were.

As he looked around, Daniel saw that they were in some kind of large grand hall of some sorts. There was a long table in the center of the room, which appeared to be used for banquets, feasts, and parties. Daniel also saw that there were several statues as well, of strange people. He read the names of each one: Stayner Iron Hewer, a tall bulky man, wielding a giant hammer. Bloodmonath Skull Cleaver, a man wielding an large axe. Woden the Mighty, a man wielding a large broad sword. Karl Sternguard, a man in armor holding a large impenetrable magic golden shield. Dirk Steadfast, another man in armor, wielding a large magic sword. Ravenhooves the Archer, a centaur wielding a longbow and carrying arrows in a quiver. Imanzi Shongama, an Amazonian woman wielding a spear. Megwynne Stormbinder, a woman wielding lighting bolts.

However, he saw that one was missing. Their pedestal was empty as if they were moved recently. A cold chill ran down,Daniel's spine, getting a little uneasy. He felt like he was being watched. It was as if the eyes of the statues were watching his every move.

Daniel scoffed, shaking his head of the silly thought. As if the statues were really alive! Poppycock! As Dan walked closer to the table, he heard a noise off to the side. As he turned his head to see what it was, Daniel was met face to face with whom he saw was a ghost from his past, Canny Tim.

"Captain Fortesque!" Canny Tim exclaimed, overjoyed. They wrapped their arms around Daniel, hugging them tightly. "I can't believe it! It's you! You're really here! You don't know how long I've been waiting!"

"Uh, nice to see you too, Tim," Daniel tapped his best friend awkwardly on their shoulder, returning their hug. "Where am I?"

"Why, sir, you are in the hall of heroes!" Canny Tim explained. "It is where heroes from all around come after they die. After you were slain, I shot Lord Kardak right in the eye from several yards away, a clean kill!" He finished before noticing Daniel frowning at them, his arms were crossed, looking unamused. Canny Tim laughed, sheepishly. "Not that there's anything wrong with getting shot in the eye."

"So, was it you that brought us here?" Dan asked. Canny Tim shook their head.

"No, sir, it was not me," They told him before looking confused. "What do you mean by "us?" Someone else was brought along with you?" Dan nodded his head.

"Who?!"

"Where are we?" Mary Lynne called out, peeking out from the corner to see Daniel and Canny Tim and walked over to them. Canny Tim's eyes widen in surprise as Mary Lynne approached them.

"Canny Tim, this is Lynne. I saved her a couple minutes ago," Daniel introduced the two. "Lynne, this is my second in command and best friend, Canny Tim."

The more the crossbowman stared at Lynne, the more he couldn't could place his finger on it. There was something familiar about the woman's eyes. They were the same color and shape as King Peregrin. But, the King had no heirs. He never married, not that Tim has known of, since he and Daniel were alive. How could that be? Unless...

Canny Tim's eyes widen in realization. He leaned in closer and whispered to Daniel while Lynne looked around the hall.

"Dan, do you not notice anything strange about her? Anything at all, that remind you of someone?" Canny Tim questioned.

Daniel stared at him confused before looking back at Lynne. He noticed her eyes were somehow familiar to him as well. The more he stared the more he was drawn in by them.They had a certain warmness to the them but also piercing. If he could feel his heart beating, it would be beating faster as if someone was drumming a drum. She was every bit beautiful.

"That she's cute?" Dan joked. Canny Tim frowned, making an annoyed huff, and slapped Daniel on his arm.

"Sir, of all the things, you say that?" the crossbowman said, disappointed. "You haven't changed at all."

"Hey, look, its you!" Canny Tim and Daniel broke out of their thoughts as Lynne called out. They looked over to see, Lynne standing in front of a statue of Dan, but it was not finished. "How come yours is different from the others? Its not solid. It's like it's missing something."

"That's because he is a FRAUD!" everyone jumped a voice roared out loud, echoing in the hall chamber. Lynne looked around but, saw no one. Suddenly, every single one of the candles lit up, lighting up the room.

"Who said that?!" Lynne demanded. She gasped in shock and in horror to see every single one of the statues beginning to come to life, stepping down from their pedestals.

"The statues are coming alive!?" Lynne cried out in fear. Woden the Mighty began to advance towards the three. He glared at Dan before narrowing his eyes at Lynne, who had stepped back.

"Who are you calling a statue, you blithering nitwit!?" Woden shouted at Lynn.

"Would you kindly tone your voice down, some of us are trying to sleep." Dirk said to Woden.

"Yeah, zip your howling screamer, Woden." Karl snickered.

"I don't even know why this jawless arrow magnet is even doing here," Woden remarked, turning back towards Dan, pointing his broad sword at him. "He is not a hero."

"T'was I who brought them here." Megwynne answered, stepping up towards the group. Woden backed off slightly.

"Megwynne! He does not belong here!"

"Do not tempt me, Woden." Megwynne narrowed her eyes at him. Woden stayed silent. She smiled and turned back over towards Dan, Canny Tim, and Lynne. "My apologies, he can be a bit hostile towards newcomers. And it has been quite some time since we've had any visitors."

"Why did you summon us here?" Daniel asked.

"We have been watching you, Sir Daniel Fortesque." Megwynne explained. "But, however, her over there was purely accidental."

"Just where exactly are we?" Lynne questioned.

"Why, the hall of heroes, of course!" Megwynne smiled. "Where heroes come to feast, sing, arm wrestle, practically anything that you can think of!"

"So, why am I here?" Daniel asked.

"Sir Daniel, even though you were claimed a hero, you're just not there quite yet. You see your statue over there?" Megwynne pointed out.

"Mmhmm!" Dan nodded.

"You only have to defeat Zarok. That is when you will become hero-worthy." Megwynne smiled back. Dan looked like he was about to pass out. Defeat Zarok? He'll be dead before he could even get near him!

"Right, if you're such great warriors as you claim that you are, then help him stop Zarok." Lynne scoffed.

"We would if we could, but its not our place. He must be the one to do so." Megwynne told her. "We will lend our help to you when we can. Now, that you know, are you up for the task?" Daniel gulped before nodded his head. What else could he do? There was no one else who could save Gallowmere. It was all up to him.

"Good, then I will send the two of you back," Megwynne's hands were about to spark, getting ready to send Dan and Lynne back when Canny Time stopped her.

"I would like to come with him, if I may?" the crossbowman requested.

"If you insist on doing this, you know that you cannot interfere. Daniel must do this himself," Megwynne insisted. "You cannot help him in any way at all."

"I know, but what kind of friend would I be, if I just let my friend go on his own," Canny Tim told her, giving his answer. They weren't going to change their mind as they were dead set on going. Megwynne laughed, softly.

"Very well," She clapped her hands, making lighting bolts appear. Green smoke appeared around Dan, Lynne, and Canny Tim as it scooped them up and launched them out of the hall.

"Not again!" Lynne screamed.

"I really hope that you know what you're doing," Ravenhooves said to her.

"To think that the fate of Gallowmere rests upon that skeleton knight's shoulders," Stayner replied, doubtful.

"He was quite the man, was he not?" Imanzi sighed, dreamily, smiling. Most of the heroes rolled their eyes at her, annoyed, while others laughed.

"Everyone in Gallowmere is doomed," Woden replied.

"Patience," Megwynne reassured them. "We must have patience. Daniel will come through. I have hope for him."

#medievil #fanfiction #The Hall Of Heroes #Medievil oc #medieval fantasy #medieval times #Knights #sorcery #Magic #Canny Tim #sir daniel fortesque #read more #MediEvil

[nebbychan]

Just in time for Halloween, Canny Tim and Sir Daniel are done!

I’ll admit, I didn’t change much with Dan’s design; I prefer his Resurrection armor and all it’s soda can sound effect glory. However, I wanted him to be slightly more distinct, so I added in his PS1 color scheme. And I thought I’d sneak in my take on living Dan. Kind of amusing how no one thinks this guy was the least bit conventionally attractive but with teeth like that, it was only necessary.

For Canny Tim, I don’t really like his Resurrection outfit, and while it’d be easier to shove him into some armor and call it a day, @pumpkingeorge made a really good point about wanting to be in your favorite outfit in the afterlife. So while sticking to the signature green, I changed up the whole outfit, adding a few small references to his comic book look too.

With the last two heroes finished, I can say that my Hall of Heroes redesign series has reached its conclusion!

Other Hero Designs

Prince Ravenhooves and Imanzi Shongama

Stanyer Iron Hewer and Megwynne Stormbinder

Dirk Steadfast and Karl Sturnguard

Bloodmonath Skull Cleaver and Woden the Mighty

#nebby sketches #medievil #medievil resurrection #sir daniel fortesque #canny tim

[darkhymns-fic]

When a star shines

Dirk had seen seen so many humans come and go, like flowers that sprouted and wilted with the passing of seasons. But he watched Lloyd and Colette grow - and he wanted these precious lives to last.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Dirk, Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Genis Sage Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Written for Colloyd Week, Day 6: Goodness and love will always win! So I cheated a little on this where it's mainly about Dirk and Lloyd/Colette is more in the background. Good if you like Dirk content?!)

--

The difference between dwarves and humans was always time.

It was soft and brooding for Dirk, aging him along with the slow creep of ivy along the boulders that lined the cliffs, or the changing shape of the mountains, the wind brought on by night sanding them down, creating arches and crags. It had been over four centuries, and the mountains that lined Iselia no longer looked the same when he had been a young boy. A dwarf made his roots in one place, and while he was different from his brethren, he still treasured the constant of his home, even if the mountains aged along with him.

For humans, it was quick and fleeting, their lives full of iridescence. It was so easy to miss their time spent, to see their faces merged together with each client he had ever spoken with. They always seemed to wilt like roses, growing so beautifully before succumbing to the chill. Not like stone that, even when it changed with the winds, it remained standing. The humans only constant was that their children would grow to take their place.

When he had found Lloyd during that storm, the boy had nearly brushed with death, saved by the nature of a great animal, its legs twisted from catching the child in a fall. Dirk held him in his arms, and he had been so very light, like a bundle of twigs he would crush for the brewing of his tea. A small cut was on his forehead, his brown hair disheveled, his cheeks streaked from past tears, overcome by the rain.

What made him want to care for this boy so suddenly?

What Dirk took from his home was little, most of it just carried on his back, but the vows were a welcome weight in his heart, that made the boy he held have meaning, more than just the feeble flickering of a candle.

Never abandon someone in need, he had thought, taking the boy and the great, whining creature to his home. Overhead, the mountains cut into the sky, crooked, but still so very tall.

--

“But I’m hungry!” the boy shouted. He stood up from his seat in the table, small fists clenched as he stared up at the steadfast dwarf. “I don’t wanna learn more dumb words!”

Few could test Dirk’s patience, but Lloyd was quickly becoming the runner-up. Beard bristling, Dirk continued to spoon the rest of the beef broth from the cooking pot into a bowl – and just one bowl. “Lloyd, keep your voice down. Or you’ll frighten the neighbors.”

“We don’t have neighbors!” Lloyd complained, but his voice had softened somewhat. At six years, he was already shooting up like a small weed, now nearly past Dirk’s knees. If he had been less behaved, he might have reached for the bowl the dwarf carried to the table. Instead, he kept still, fuming with all the anger a child could possess.

“Our neighbor is poor Noishe who is outside. And ya hear that? Already the mutt is whining.” The crooning of the animal (or dog, as Lloyd liked to point out) melded with the night wind that blew in through the open windows to rustle the potted plants along the shelves, moving alongside the chirping of crickets that hid within the grass.

“Sorry…” Lloyd muttered, before he shook his head. Eyes swiveled to the food before turning back to Dirk. “But I wanna eat! Why do you get to?”

“I already told ya earlier; I know my vows, and now you must learn them. Recite the vow I gave ya this morning and you get to eat dinner. No vow, no dinner.” Dirk sat at the table, taking a salt-shaker and drizzling just a pinch into the broth. “So simple a task, even you can do it, lad.”

“Ugh…it’s so lame though!” Lloyd pouted even more, cheeks a little puffed to showcase his youthful indignation. Still, Dirk could see the way the boy’s eyes brightened as he looked to the broth again, where beef chunks, sliced carrots and sweetened celery swam in its warm, murky depths. “I’m gonna starve to death! Then you’ll feel bad!”

“Didn’t I make ya three lunches today?”

“…Maybe!” Lloyd huffed. “So what? That was lunch! That’s different!”

“I even let ya have a few nips from the cookie jar! A dwarven child would be full from what you’ve eaten today.”

“No way!” The boy’s stomach growled just then, so startingly loud it even made Lloyd jump. “See? I’ll be all skin and bones!”

Dirk dipped the spoon into the broth, scooping up a piece of beef along with the vegetables before taking a bite. He made sure to savor the taste. “Then tell me the dwarven vow you’ve learned today.”

“Nooooo!”

“Lloyd!” Dirk shouted, loud enough to make the boy flinch again and snap shut his mouth then. “I told ya no more shouting!”

“Mmgh..”

Dirk sighed, thinking he had known stubbornness until Lloyd. The boy would have yelled at the sun itself if he thought it should have been a different color altogether. “It is not out of the question for ya. Remember the vow from yesterday?”

Lloyd scrunched his forehead, apparently having trouble remembering that very vow. “Gah…It was like…something about shoes… Always fix your shoes before they hatch!”

Dirk nearly choked on his food as he chewed. Never had he met another mangle his vows so drastically.

“What? Isn’t that it?”

“Lloyd…” Another sigh as he wiped at his beard with a napkin. “We’ll work on this more tomorrow.”

“Lame…” Another complaining grumble from Lloyd’s stomach, but Dirk would not be moved. He had his own stubborn nature.

Awkward silence passed, the minutes dragging on, but the dwarf continued to eat in peace, accompanied by the whining of strange dogs and the soft mutterings of a wild human child. The boy had then decided to sit on the floor, looking absolutely put out, perhaps trying to hold back tears at the thought of food now forever lost. He cried so easily – tears are the sign of a good heart, Dirk’s elders had told him. Could that goodness stay true with the fickle changes of being human?

Dirk had finished his broth, then took the bowl to wash in the nearby sink. Lloyd kept looking at the dwarf hopefully, but seeing he would still not be getting his food, he went back to frowning at the floor again, tracing the slightly crooked edge of a board, fitted into that place exactly three years ago.

“‘Complain that you have no shoes until you meet a man who has no feet,’” Dirk said, putting the clean bowl back into the cupboards.

“Huh?” Lloyd uttered.

“The vow, Lloyd. You learned that yesterday.” He turned to look at the child, thick arms crossed over his chest. The boy had once called him a frightening bear, but in that same boy’s eyes, he saw someone who would stand up to an army of bears if they got in the way of his dinner. “Sometimes, it is good to be thankful.”

Lloyd just looked more confused – and then another stomach rumbling, loud enough make one think the table had shook.

“Too hungry…” Lloyd whined before going to lay on the floor, arms and legs outstretched. “I have feet…but I still want food… Thankful for food…”

“Alright, get to bed now,” Dirk said. And even as the boy whined, trying to turn his face away from Dirk as much as he could, he let himself be carried by the dwarf, his tiny legs dangling from tree-trunk arms. “Got an early day tomorrow helping me with the garden. The weeds are growing in again.”

“Aagh.” Lloyd turned away even more, enough that Dirk had to shift his arms to make sure the boy didn’t tumble and break his noggin on the stairs as they climbed up it. “You’re a mean dad.”

There. That weird mixture of affection, fear, and guilt, all mixed into one. Dirk had long thought he was past feeling so much. Yet for an old man such as himself, the words that Lloyd said sparked emotions he had long forgotten.

The boy had already fallen asleep in Dirk’s arms before he was tucked into his bed. The next morning, Dirk had made him a breakfast platter that would have put his own stomach to the test. But Lloyd ate so much, and look just how fast he was growing…

The vows had once been all that Dirk had. If they could help keep the goodness in Lloyd’s heart as he grew, then it would be worth the trouble of teaching him; through the tears and all.

--

In Dirk’s long and storied lifetime, he had seen many Chosen come and go. Despite his memory, he couldn’t always mind the details of their faces, for they seemed to change as often as the seasons.

When the years on his shoulders had not been as many, the spring always brought hope, brought youths dressed in finery, the scent of lavender hanging in the air. But time wore on, and the winters grew longer, the summers drier. He experienced firsthand how the roads became less safe to travel, Desians moving out from the shadows to fragment an already weakening world.

And still those Chosen came, sprouting and wilting with every passing season.

Dirk had known of the Chosen from Iselia. It was by chance that his home was close to the Village of Oracles, for it had not always been called that title. But a branch from the Chosen lineage had made their residence there over a century ago, and in his routine stock-up on supplies from the town, he caught the tell-tale expression of a certain young child, split off from the other children near the school house, her form proper and her smile polite. The other Chosens he had ever seen – rare as it was still – had been few, but they all had that same, soft smile.

When Lloyd had started going to school in Iselia, Dirk had visited the village more often. The boy could not defend himself against monsters just yet, but he could ride Noishe fairly well, hands gripping the creature’s great ears. How brave of Noishe, he would think, to hold back his whines for Lloyd.

His crafting could wait for when he would go and pick up the boy, trusty hammer in his hand, its weight just enough to crush a fiend on sight. But one day, Lloyd had not come to the village front. He found Noishe still laying outside its perimeter, guards warily glancing his way occasionally.

Already Dirk was quite suspicious. Lloyd had never seemed to want to stay longer at school, as he so often complained about. But a quick trek into the village led him to Lloyd, seated on a polished oak porch at a large, yet quaint home, a book in his lap. It had been easy to spot the boy; decked out in a red (at Lloyd’s insistence) jacket, suspenders keeping his pants from falling around his ankles. Every week, Dirk would have to mend and refit them, brought on by the boy’s travels through the forest, and his own tremendous growth spurts.

And next to him, the Chosen, (barely older than nine, he gathered) with her soft and sad smile.

“Dad!” Lloyd waved towards the dwarf, his voice carrying so easily in the light of the sunset. “Colette’s teaching me all this angel stuff!”

“Aye, maybe introduce me to your friend first, lad,” Dirk chided. But Lloyd grinned, and he noticed the girl mimicked that same grin back, that soft air of melancholy gone away. But she had the same eyes he recognized from another Chosen he had once met. Perhaps a close family member instead of a distant relative?

“Hello! I’m Colette. It’s nice to meet you, sir. I didn’t mean to keep Lloyd here for so long.” In her own lap was a book as well, scrawled with characters that even to his ancient eyes, he could not fully decipher. Yet he still recognized them – engravings that he would be commissioned to scribe onto a statue or a plaque for one of the many Houses of Salvation. “Lloyd taught me a saying and I wanted to teach him something back!”

“So ya taught her my boring vows, didn’t ya?”

“I- I didn’t say they were!” Lloyd argued. “Only some of them are!”

“Ah, of course. That makes more sense.”

Colette giggled, making the book in her lap bounce from the motion. Lloyd was already having trouble keeping his own steady, one side of it too heavy with pages, but Colette held hers with barely a glance. “Lloyd said I should play hard and play often!”

“Well, yeah! You’re always going off to study stuff at that temple, so you need to play more and like…balance that out!” Lloyd said this, just as he unbalanced the book straight onto the ground. “Wah! Sorry!”

But the girl seemed to pay no offense to what Lloyd had dropped, even as the pages were covered in dirt. “Hehe, you’re silly!”

Lloyd was already trying to heft the giant angel book back in his arms. “But, I’m right, aren’t I, dad?” Lloyd asked of Dirk. As the dwarf looked down at him, he could see already how fast he was growing. Soon, that book would become too small for him, and that same jacket would need to be completely refitted instead of simply fixing a tear or stitching up an extra inch along the sleeves. Even those suspenders would need to be lengthened. Like trees these children would grow, yet even the greatest trees eventually decay… “Dad?”

“I’m just shocked, lad. Ya remembered the meaning of the vow! And here I thought I was just blowing hot air all this time.”

“I can know things!” Lloyd was arguing again, pouting slightly. “Like this angel…book thingy…” Then he sighed. “Dwarven words seemed easier than this though…”

“I’m sorry,” Colette said. “I’m not very good at teaching, and I guess this can be boring too.” She said everything in such a prepared tone, anticipating any other response except for what Lloyd would soon give her.

“I never said it was boring, Colette! Just hard!”

“Oh!” She blinked. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for…?”

“Alright, how about we continue this lesson for another day, Lloyd,” Dirk said, sparing Colette any more confusion. “And don’t go blaming the books for your troubles. Remember, ‘a bad workman blames his tools.’”

“I’m not blaming anything though,” Lloyd once again complained, careful to not drop the book again. But he saw the way the boy hesitated leaving his seat next to Colette, like a small air of wanting that someone so young could not fully understand. “Do we need to go right now though? I don’t have homework!”

Dirk, instantly knowing that to be a lie (and he would need to teach him that vow later on), brushed away that excuse. “It’s dangerous to walk the roads at night, especially with your sloppy sword work. And Noishe has been whining for your return.”

“But I’m getting better now, I promise!”

“Oh! Lloyd tells me you have a doggie? Is that Noishe?” Colette said suddenly, standing up and dropping her own book to the ground, unheeded. “Can I see?”

Her polite pretense was shattered for a moment, and just then, Dirk saw an excitable child before him. But perhaps there was still something clever in her words then. For her gaze always flickered to Lloyd, small and barely noticed, which was impressive in one so young.

I see now, Dirk thought, and felt a great sadness then. For he remembered just then what had happened to the last Chosen in grave starkness.

“Yeah, of course you can!” Lloyd was already agreeing, before realizing that his father was right there. “Uh...she can, right?”

Dirk gave a big grin, knowing how his teeth would stand out against his thick beard. This generally scared the younger children, but he felt a bravery in Colette already. “Be sure to ask your grandmother for permission. And I’ll be happy to show you him.”

“You know grandmother?” Colette asked, once again letting down her guard. He could tell it usually came naturally to her.

“We’re old friends. And I’m as old as they come!”

“Wow, that really is old…” Lloyd said in wonder, and that only made Dirk laugh. The boy’s honesty was certainly a virtue that he hoped would keep growing.

Even as Colette got to meet Noishe with all the happiness a child could have, Dirk felt that sadness weigh on his heart. Many of these human lives he had known were sparks, burning to brightness before eventually fading away into the night.

But for the Chosen, it was different. Instead of fading, they would simply vanish, like a star winking out suddenly from the sky.

They would always leave a space behind.

--

When Lloyd was thirteen, Desians from the nearby human ranch had decided to visit Iselia.

There was a time when the ranch was nowhere within Iselia’s forests. Few others remembered so, but Dirk’s memory had not waned yet. A time when the mountains had been taller, less worn down by the wind and the sun.

The way the great structure was built, it seemed to have been sprouted from the ground. Walls of reinforced steel that reminded him suspiciously of his own people’s handiwork, roving swarms of crowds within, filled with both Desians and the humans they had imprisoned. In the night, if he looked past the trees, the lights from that place would shine so bright.

The world could be cruel in its existence, but sometimes Dirk questioned what sort of Goddess would allow a human ranch to be built so closely to the village, with no significant trading export or research to its simple name – except that it was the home of those with the Chosen of Mana bloodline?

In the early years with Lloyd, Dirk tried his best to not shield the boy from the ranch’s existence, once bringing him and Noishe so close as they went on route to Iselia. “What is that?” the boy had asked, not on a first trip but a third one, awed by its size, perhaps feeling the air that encompassed with it.

“A place that you should always avoid,” Dirk had told him, and he gripped the child’s left hand. The Exsphere was something he knew one day Lloyd would need, for the boy was stubborn after all. The skin around the keycrest recently affixed to his hand was still slightly red, Lloyd occasionally scratching at it through the white wraps around it. But Dirk held it then, held it so tightly, that Lloyd looked up at him with curious eyes.

“This isn’t a good place,” Lloyd said then, and still Dirk kept his grip on the boy. “There are people in there.”

“Aye, lad,” Dirk whispered, bringing him and Noishe, who even kept his whines to a minimum, down a slope where the ranch could no longer be seen. “But there are times when it is better to be a coward for a minute then dead,” for he saw the look in Lloyd’s eyes, fierce and already beginning to understand.

It was what made the work of the Chosen all the more tragic.

Just as often as he questioned the Goddess Martel, he thanked her as well that by chance he had been in town that day, buying dry food for supplies. Lloyd had rushed into the store, body so tense that Dirk felt he would rush out again through the door like a strung bow.

“Dad! There’s Desians out by the gate!” Lloyd had shouted, stunning the shopkeeper into paleness. Dirk frowned. He had felt the earth rumble with many moving feet, but he should have known sooner. No choice but to stay within town until the Desians were satisfied to leave.

“Did they see you?” he asked Lloyd. “Did they see your hand?”

“No, I made sure! They were still far off…”

He frowned, looking away. “Perhaps surveillance? They hadn’t done this in years.” Dirk paid the silent shopkeeper his Gald, then laid a great hand on Lloyd’s shoulder. “Lloyd, I need you do one thing for me?”

“Yeah? What is it?” Lloyd had his fists clenched, eyes hard, and still his sword belts needed tightening to hold the wooden blades around his waist.

“Stay here, and don’t come out.” Dirk patted Lloyd’s back then walked past him.

“Huh? But I can help! They’re not supposed to be here, right? Because of the…treat thingy!” Lloyd rushed to his dad, grabbing his arm. “Why can’t I fight with you?”

“Learn to have sense, boy! I said nothing about fighting. I’m only going to help those who need to reach their homes. No one should be outside now. Including you.”

“But-!”

“You stay and protect this man if any try to rattle him,” Dirk stated, giving Lloyd little room for argument. “You can do that for me?”

That was what stopped Lloyd’s complaints, instantly nodding his head. “Yeah…yeah okay!” A pause, then eyes widening. “Wait. I last saw Colette by Genis’ house.. What if…”

Dirk opened the door then, the bell above chiming loudly. “Stay. I’ll find her.”

He did not mean for his words to come out harsh, but already he saw the familiar uniforms and helmets, masking faces that none in this village would ever identify. The gate guards held their pikes, but stayed clear as a retinue of Desians, four soldiers with one mage, identified by his staff, marched into the town.

A misplaced word, a wrong look. Dirk had seen it happen countless times in other towns. But the treaty was Iselia’s strength. Would it be enough to shield them?

As a dwarf, he could not avoid eyes for long. But perhaps there was a blessing to it, to help avert attention from those much more helpless. A child instantly turned around on the main path to rush to their home, an old man hobbled away, his cane making deep gouges in the dirt. One Desian's eyes swiveled to the lone dwarf who marched into view.

Perhaps the great hammer he carried on his back was also a giveaway.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise. Is it not true then that all dwarves are hermits?” spoke one. The way the sun glared off his helmet would be enough to blind one’s eyes. Dirk, used to the bright flames of his forge, merely squinted.

“A hermit has to eat occasionally,” he replied. His voice rumbled, like thunder in the belly. Another Desian shifted a step backwards. Few imagined, but were never quite prepared, for how a dwarf would talk.

The whips they held were obvious, the ends nearly trailing onto the ground. Dirk hardly feared them, but he eyed the mage, for he had little knowledge of those kinds of artes. What would cause a stray fireball to be lunged his way? And would Lloyd be foolhardy enough to run out from the store and defend Dirk from them?

Of course he would, he instantly thought with an inward sigh. There could be no trouble now.

Perhaps by luck, the Desians decided to pay him little mind then. Already the mayor was walking up the path, and though Dirk was tempted to stay (the mayor had never sat well with him – he had initially been against Lloyd attending school here), it gave him opportunity to leave, walking towards the right path.

An air of fear and worry hung around everyone’s heads, some of them ducking away from their windows, or loudly latching shut their doors, praying that the mayor could meet whatever needs the Desians wanted.

Even as he walked off, Dirk was going over his decisions with regret. Perhaps he should have taken Lloyd. Would the Desians storm into the shop, finding a young boy there with swords drawn? Yet even so, Iselia’s shop bore little in store that the Desians would not already have, and it didn’t match up with the markets of Luin or Palmacosta…

It was then he saw Colette, standing just before a small pond, as still as the fence post that surrounded the village.

The dwarf treaded softly over the road, reached out his hand to the silent girl. “Let’s get you home, Colette.”

She took his hand, but her eyes raised up to his with the same worry. Her practiced smile was gone, leaving someone frightened and unsure, even as she stood so still. Not even a shiver or a tremble. “Where’s Lloyd? He was just going up to the gate to bring Noishe…I asked him to…”

“He is alright, lass,” Dirk said, reassuring them both. “And Noishe would have ran away at the first scent of any danger.”

Colette blinked, but no tears were shed. That sparked a thought in Dirk. He did not recall ever seeing Colette weep. Even Lloyd occasionally wept from his nightmares.

“Are they looking for me?” she asked him, and there was that betrayal of concern. There was that realization, once again, that a child stood before him. A star always on the brink of winking out completely.

“I hadn’t heard, and I don’t think we need to find out.” Dirk led her away from the pond, and though the Sage’s home was in front of, he did not want them to risk opening their doors. There was no telling just how well they could be recognized, if a stray wind lifted their hair to reveal ears that only a fellow half-elf could identify.

Humans seemed to miss the details of such things, he noticed.

Yet, perhaps he had been a fool to rely on the mayor to give them some modicum of safety. For as he walked the path to Colette’s home, he heard those same marching footsteps from behind, leather boots kicking up dust in the dry summer air.

“Sirs! There is nothing there of interest for you-”

“I don’t see why not.” The Desian at the forefront was craning his head upwards, smirking at the height of Colette’s home. “How can a small town have such grand houses as this then? Hiding a few coppers we don’t know about?”

The mayor was pale, many steps away from the Desian group. “Please, the Chosen’s home is of no concern.”

Unbelievable, Dirk thought, turning towards the Desians. Colette held onto his hand so tightly.

“The Chosen…that’s right, I’d almost forgot.” Dirk kept any expression from his face, watching carefully as the group moved even closer. “This little pipsqueak here?”

Dirk nudged Colette to be more behind him. He felt her shake, felt the village shake with her. “Mind introducing yourself before you go walking up to strangers?” he stated.

A brief wave of irritation crossed the other’s face, or what he could see from that helmet of his. The mouth that had just been sneering soon turned to a frown. “You have the honor of talking with Commander Lee, and if you think you can get away with that sort of tongue-”

“Hey! Leave them alone!”

Dirk winced, yet hoped his face kept that wince well-concealed. That familiar shout could carry for miles. That boy. So foolhardy! And just after he had to clean up the mayor’s bumbling too.

Lloyd was rushing up to him and Colette on the dusty pathway from where the store was, his swords clapping harshly against his thighs. He clumsily held onto the hilt of his left weapon. Dirk counted his small blessings that the Exsphere was still concealed.

“Who’s this brat?” said the Desian named Lee. “And why is a child carrying weapons so openly? I thought this village was peaceful…unless that’s not the case.” Lee glanced at the mayor, eyes barely seen through the slits in the metal helmet.

“Please! This boy is not even from the village!” The man’s voice quivered, but Dirk noticed the faint sheen of rage that just underlined the expected fear. He had always known the man would never be a friend to Lloyd, but still it made his hackles rise.

Lloyd then stood in front of Colette, his limbs shaking, yet he didn’t let go of his hold on his sword hilt. “You should back off!”

The sneer from the Desians could barely be seen. They hid much of themselves so well, but it was obvious to anyone how plain their cruelty was.

“Maybe draw your little toy before you start making demands of us, kid,” spoke Lee, and in his words was a promise that called forth every instinct from Dirk.

Barely an inch of the wooden sword was moved from its scabbard before Dirk clapped a hand on Lloyd’s arm.

Lloyd flinched. His fear was also obvious. The Desians would eat him whole if given the chance. “Dad-”

“Keep it sheathed,” he spoke softly. His glance to Lloyd was brief. “And listen.”

It was enough to keep the boy still. Dirk faced the group of Desians as he brought both Lloyd and Colette behind him.

“Now, now, let the boy play! If he’s old enough for a sword, he’s old enough to have a nice chat with us. Man-to-man.”

“Not sure what you gain from scaring children,” Dirk said, knowing full well what they gained, having seen it too often, too much. “But it has been a long day, and the summer heat makes one full of fatigue. I’d imagine your uniforms are not faring much better in it.”

Boots shifted in the dust. One hand reached to pull at their vest. Small details, yet many seemed to miss them.

Lee crossed his arms, making sure to show off the whip on his waist as he did so. “I think there are plenty more uncomfortable things to go through than a little sun. Does your boy want to find out?” He gestured to Lloyd, still hidden away by Dirk’s leg.

“I’m sure the mayor has said there is a treaty between your ranch and this village.” Dirk moved on, giving them no room to keep going. “As far as I know, that hasn’t expired.”

A small pause, but Dirk kept that in mind before Lee spoke again. “Treaties can be changed. And I doubt anyone in this village could even read it.”

Long used to patience, Dirk stayed as still as stone, in contrast to the Desians who kept shifting in their stances, their helmets heating up from the summer sun.

“I know what you are, and I’ve lived long enough to know your treaty is not to be taken lightly. It was made during his own grandfather’s lifetime, if I recall correctly.”

Having been called out, the mayor seemed to very much not want to be a part of things at all. “I… Y-yes, that is true. My grandfather agreed to the treaty…and it’s been our duty to uphold it ever since.”

“You say we don’t know our own history?” Lee took a step closer to Dirk. He felt Lloyd shift behind him, along with Colette. Any more, and this flighty human in his charge would throw it all away in a second.

The boy still needed to learn his own patience – and he had to keep living for that to happen.

“Maybe ya neglected it… Certainly you should be old enough to know. Unless ya happen to be new recruits?” Dirk stroked his beard, putting on a considering expression. “It was for both sides to keep the peace…and that leader of yours. He seemed to be a man of his word if I recall. Affixed to the rules stronger than a crest to stone, unless we were to break it.”

“You have no idea who we are,” Lee threatened. The mage in the back was gripping his staff, while the others held their whips tight. “We could burn this town to the ground and no one would miss it. We could always use a few more workers back at the ranch too.”

Dirk’s hammer was light on his back, but he knew that lightness was not a universal truth for all. “Ya very well could, but I promise a few broken bones won’t be all you get back. And doesn’t your patrol do the rounds on the other side of the forest at this time? Your leader might be curious on that little fact.”

One Desian visibly straightened. “How did you-?”

“Shut it,” spoke Lee before turning to Dirk. “Do you want your race to be extinct that badly? I don’t mind gutting a dwarf’s ears from his head.”

Dirk’s expression was motionless, even as he felt Lloyd shake. In anger? In fear? Sometimes there was not much difference. “I know the town of Sieth was nearby, and that they were not kind to half-elves. My last trek saw what they left behind on their gates.” His next words would go over unstable grounds, but some risks were worth taking. “For even us dwarves, we know all deserve better resting grounds.”

Lee paused again. And the silence stretched, inviting the summer insects to chirp and leave their echoes all around the trees. Lee still would not speak.

Dirk had already long figured out who they were – newly picked up by the ranch to serve in their units. And many of their rank came from tragic backgrounds; families eradicated because of humans’ cruelty, or friends leaving them to rot alone in the wilderness. The Desians took in more pain and bred it back out into the world that had only ever given them that in turn.

The half-elf named Lee was no commander, and he saw the other slowly wilt, slowly realize he may have ventured out of his element, even with the small group he had been able to convince.

“Maybe…we should go,” spoke another Desian, the mage this time. His robes were pristine, probably having never seen actual battle. “Lee?”

“Shut up,” spoke Lee, staring daggers at Dirk.

“But, what if Forcystus finds out-”

A quick glare. The other Desian went quiet. Quiet was all they seemed to know, suffocating in it, fueled by indecision.

And still the dwarf knew patience. He had long weathered in the hot sun, with packs of logs and stone on his back. The Desians were beginning to struggle to keep their weapons up.

“Just a routine search. Consider yourself a lucky bastard.” Lee turned away, and perhaps no one else, not even the half-elf’s comrades, could hear the crack in his voice. Dirk had hit even closer to the wound than he realized.

Long after the Desians finally left through the gate, they still left an air of fear in the village. It lingered all around, like a bad omen. Even the mayor could barely seem to take it, shuffling back to his home on the other side. Dirk tried not to be a superstitious dwarf, he tried not to give in to fancies that led to nowhere – but then, years before, a curious cry from deep in the woods during a vicious storm had once made him walk further into the dark. Sometimes instincts were all one could trust.

The door to Colette’s home opened, revealing Phaidra, walking down the porch as quick as she could. “Colette! Are you alright?”

“Grandmother!” Colette called back, looking quietly to Dirk as she still held his hand, like she was asking permission. Since when had he become the voice of all? He gently released his fingers, letting the girl rush to hug the woman.

Lloyd hung by his side, looking to the ground.

“Lloyd,” he said, voice hard. “Are ya trying to be a fool?”

The boy bit his lip. “I wanted to help…”

“Have ya not been listening to me? ‘It is better to be a coward for a minute than to be dead forever!’ How would that help anyone?”

“But you weren’t a coward!” Lloyd argued back. “You scared them away!”

“Because you left me with no choice, lad!”

A wince, Lloyd’s eyes widening before looking back to the ground. “I didn’t…want you or Colette to get hurt…I’m sorry.”

There were times Dirk wished he could knock some sense into the boy, but all he could do now was sigh, the weight lifted from his chest then. “I know your heart is big, Lloyd. But this-” he rapped a knuckle against Lloyd’s forehead, making him squeak. “-needs to catch up.”

“That hurt…”

“And here I thought you had a thicker skull!” But he rubbed Lloyd’s head with his thumb, then gently pulled the boy in for a hug. “Stay safe, Lloyd. Do that for your father.”

“Yeah…” Lloyd wiped at his eyes, standing back. “I’ll do better.”

But the real change that Dirk saw was not even from his words, or from Lloyd’s own – it was from Colette who rushed back to them. He saw Lloyd’s teary eyes widen – and then a smile – as the girl went over to hug him fiercely.

“Lloyd! I’m sorry. Are you okay?” The fear had left Colette like water, brightened her like a star.

“I-I’m fine! Don’t say sorry, dork!”

And just like that, in both of their smiles, he saw the fear fade, retreating into the trees, like it had never been. The brightness that humans could show, undeterred to let grave happenings last much longer, was made known to him. How quickly they could change and adapt, even with grim news on the horizon?

Or am I just witnessing first love instead? he thought.

“I’m so thankful nothing more happened,” Phaidra whispered to Dirk, both watching Lloyd and Colette get lost in their own bubble. Noishe’s name passed between them, and Dirk knew it would be soon that he’d have to find the poor dog, possibly hidden beneath some shrubs in the meadow far into the cliffside. “I do not understand why they needed to come by. None of us have gone to the ranch.”

“Hopefully, they should stay away this time,” Dirk tried to reassure. “The village should now rest easy.”

“Yes…though this will only make them want the Chosen’s journey to happen soon,” she admitted. That sadness reached out, and he worried again for the young smiles just next to him.

--

“‘Never forget the basics,’” Dirk had taught Lloyd once (this time warning he’d shove Lloyd more tomatoes onto his plate instead of taking dinner out completely), and he felt this was the vow that stuck with him most.

The boy was stubborn, like most humans were, but he was fierce in his affection, unafraid of it even. There were many times where the dwarf would be caught off guard by a tackling bear hug, and certainly it was perfect for bears like him, wasn’t it? Lloyd showed that same fierce love to others who would have it, who could understand it. But so many other humans were so fickle, so afraid of such a thing.

Colette was like a small flower, perfectly tended to, grown in the right shade. It was only glances of her when Dirk would visit Iselia, much less now once Lloyd learned how to fight, but he saw that carefulness she took, the proper way she would speak – until Lloyd would show her that same fierce affection, unafraid, unbound.

Was Dirk truly the only one who noticed how often she would trip now with Lloyd around? Steps more adventurous, sometimes leading her to meet a thudding fate, but Lloyd was there to keep her up. Perhaps a dwarf, and an old one such as he, had nothing but time to notice such small things.

On a day when Lloyd was learning how to craft a metal, cooled recently from the forge, Dirk had to mention something else.

“Ya haven’t kept up with the rest of the vows.”

A soft clatter of a pick, one that Lloyd instantly grabbed for before it would fall to the ground. “Uh what? Where did that come from?”

“Just keeping ya on your toes!” Dirk said with a large pat against Lloyd’s back. The boy coughed slightly, raising an annoyed eyebrow at his father. His jacket, now outfitted with long white strips (again, Lloyd insisted) hung off his shoulders as he leaned against the worktable. At fifteen, he was already meeting Dirk’s height just by being seated. “Don’t let distractions lead you astray.”

“Who says they are?” Still that stubbornness. But it was buffeted with eager excitement as he showed off to Dirk what he worked on. “I can’t really learn vows at the same time when I’m doing this! And I’m already getting pretty good!”

“…That left side is uneven.”

“What?!” Lloyd glared at the molding of his work, the oval opening of the jewelry half-lopsided. “When did that happen…ugh…”

This was not the first time Dirk had taught Lloyd how to craft, but he remembered this vein of fixation before. The star pendant Lloyd had made three years ago had also been of amateur work, but nothing else could hold a candle to such sincerity in its shape.

“As you mull over your mistakes, I think it’s time for a little break. A new vow to take with you!”

Lloyd sighed. “Fine, I’ll just go and make a new one of this anyway…” He turned to Dirk with a wide smile, left fist clenched. “Because I can’t give up! ‘Fall down seven times, stand up eight!’”

Dirk nodded. “Very good. Still not getting you out of an extra lesson.”

“…Damn.” Lloyd turned around in his chair to face Dirk, arms folded underneath his head on the back of it. His limbs were so much more gangly now, looking ready to extend well past the height of his body. He had long gone through three different jackets, Dirk putting his tailoring skills to the test for him. Still, of course, the boy wanted red.

“You’ve kept clear of the ranch?” he asked then, knowing it would seem sudden. The boy raised his eyebrows, already pulled from boredom.

“Huh? Yeah, of course..” Lloyd rubbed his hand. Today, the Exsphere was free, the sunlight glancing off its dark surface. But Dirk had drilled into Lloyd to always carry around the bandages to tie around his hand whenever he left home. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Many things. Just because we may not see it each day, does not mean it doesn’t exist.”

Lloyd went quieter, eyes shifting towards the floor. “I know that. Ever since they visited Iselia…I know.”

Dirk had not meant it to be a lecture; he did not even believe that Lloyd would ever put it out of his mind at all. Every day he traveled through the forests, and every day he passed that ranch. But was that place too great a lure for him?

“Then this is a vow I want you to remember the most out of them all. Dwarven Vow number seven: ‘Goodness and love will always win.’ Especially in trying times like these, it is easy to forget that the goodness and love of others can save us. You keep that in your heart, out of everything else if you must. Say it daily and you will be sure to remember.”

Dirk had not been as solemn when discussing the vows until now, but the memory of the Desians in town stuck with him greatly. There will be a time when Lloyd will leave, he thought, knowing how humans were. Even being raised with the dwarven teachings could not keep the boy from who he was.

But as he spoke, he was then brought back to when Lloyd was six again, pouting at the vegetables on his planet. His expression just said it all.

“Uh..huh. Is that…really it?”

“Yes.”

“And I have to say that out loud?”

“That’s the idea.”

“But isn’t it enough that I already know it? I’ll never forget it!” Lloyd groaned. “No matter how much I want to…”

“Lloyd!”

“Ugh, fine!” Lloyd pouted. “Goodness and love will always win…eh…” He sighed. “At least vow number one sounds less cheesy!”

Dirk grinned wide, hands on his hips. “Well, now you can say them both if that makes you feel better!”

“Ugh, no!” Lloyd slid his hands from the chair, looking nearly ready to slide off onto the ground itself as he groaned. “No one says this stuff anymore!”

“Can’t begrudge an old man his favorite sayings?”

“That’s your favorite?” Lloyd gritted his teeth. But even in his frustration, Dirk already saw something else. By then, the frown slipped onto Lloyd’s face as he looked away. “And… I dunno. It feels a bit too fake…” He hesitated. “Not something they’d listen to.”

Dirk knew who he meant.

“It is for those who will listen,” he replied. “For those who understand.”

Lloyd shrugged. “I guess, fine. I’ll remember.” Then his gaze shifted to his hand, still holding the piece of jewelry he worked on. “I bet I could probably fix up the groove on this side here if I whack at it a bit. Dad, can I borrow your hammer?”

Just like that, the boy’s thoughts had already moved on. Dirk tried not to let disappointment linger, for even for his own kind, he’d let such a thing take hold too often. “Last time I lent it, ya nearly smashed your thumb. And also my window more importantly!”

“That was like one time! It’ll just-” And then, as Lloyd held up the item, a small necklace in the making, the chain suddenly loosened and fell to the floor in a shower of small golden links. The oval center thudded against the wooden floorboards before rolling away underneath the forge.

Lloyd blinked, looking to his hand that now only held half of a broken chain.

“Agh!” He leaned back, laying his head on the table with a loud smack. “I’m just carving her a wooden dog then…”

Dirk smirked underneath his beard, knowing Lloyd would be unable to see. “Before you do that, make sure you take the garden flowers to your mother. Day will already be ending.”

“Shoot, you’re right…” Lloyd rushed to his feet, though his eyes shifted back to that broken jewelry with a bit of hurt pride. “I’ll get better though,” he promised, already going out the back where the lilacs and roses had been arranged.

 Even if it’s not to your liking, I can see you’re already proving the vow for me, lad. Hopefully, that would be enough to help the boy grow.

--

Dirk was still pouring the rest of the stew within the bowls when he heard a surprised sound from Genis, seated on the right side of the table. “Hey! There’s a gem in here!”

“Spit it out!” Lloyd was saying excitedly. “The bigger it is, the more points!”

“I could have choked on this!”

He rarely made potluck surprise for other non-dwarves – a small game from his youth, rewarded to children who did all their chores for the day. “Aye, I’ll admit I’m a bit rusty when it comes to altering the recipe,” he said to the three seated, placing the last bowl for Colette. “But hopefully, ya can find a diamond in the rough!”

Lloyd laughed, while Genis just turned to his friend with a glare. “You don’t even get that, do you?”

“Yeah I do! Because dad works with diamonds and stuff!”

“Right…”

Colette took the bowl gratefully, eyes looking curiously over the food. “Is this what Lloyd has been having for lunch at school?”

“Yeah!” Lloyd quickly answered, nearly upturning Genis’ own bowl in his excitement. “The stuff I find in my lunch is what I try to use to make new things with!”

“Oh! So that’s where the doggy figurine came from!”

“Er, actually I think I just dropped that one into my food…”

Colette was a newcomer to the Dirk household, her status as a Chosen usually keeping her from leaving the village. But whatever magic the girl’s teacher must have come up with to both the priests and even the mayor to let Colette go through the forests, and all just to visit a strange dwarf’s house…perhaps miracles were not so rare nowadays.

He smiled beneath his beard as he shifted the pot closer to the center of the dining table, all in easy reach for the children. Either a miracle, or just someone who knew how to keep secrets. “Be sure to have plenty more! Or I’ll have to take the rest…and my stomach ain’t getting any smaller!”

“I’ll take any leftovers!” Lloyd announced proudly.

“Just so you can find all the jewels and win!” Genis countered, quickly taking the ladle and pouring more onto his own bowl. “Not this time!”

Lloyd and Genis always did get quite competitive at this game, and despite the young one’s previous complaints, he’d take the biggest bites out of the potluck surprise. Even Lloyd was awe-inspired! Hopefully it was also a testament to Dirk’s cooking as well.

Colette was only just beginning to get a hang of this new game, gently blowing on her wooden spoon before taking in the stew. A rapid blink, then she ducked her head slightly as she retrieved what was in her mouth. “Ah, a bracelet?”

“Whoa, already?” Lloyd was saying as he leaned in. Seated next to Colette, he definitely had not needed to in the slightest. But Dirk would not reprimand the boy, not when Colette was eager to show him, her cheeks dusted a light pink. “You must have played this before!”

“I really haven’t! But it’s fun, hehe.” She laid the bracelet before her, making her own designated pile of trinkets as the game required. “This one’s so pretty too. Do we get to keep these, Mr. Dirk?”

“Aye, these all belong to those who find them. The stew makes the metal shine even more!”

Lloyd was nodding along to his father’s words. “Yeah, it’s like Dwarven Vow number thirty-seven! Hunger makes a good sauce! For like…trinkets and stuff! Right?”

“Well, ya got the words right, but we can determine the meaning another day…”

It had been years since the Desians had descended upon the town of Iselia, yet Dirk had still seen their ranks prowling the woods at times. Even so, after all these years since constructing his home for Lloyd to grow up in, none had ever gone up to his doors. Not yet, he sternly reminded himself. There is always a first time for everything.

But the sunset was winding down past the mountains, sending patterns of red and blue across the skies. Dirk watched fondly as the pot got less and less filled. Nothing could be more voracious than a child’s appetite, let alone three!

“Oh no, is there still enough for you?” Colette asked with worry. She had noticed the amount of food left, perhaps remembered the kind manners of guests that he thought had went away with time. “I’m already a bit full. You can have some of mine!”

“Nah, Colette. I was sure to sneak in a bite or two during cooking, don’t you worry!”

“Hey! That’s why this seems less than normal!” Lloyd pointed accusingly at Dirk. He even looked ready to jump right onto the table, if there weren’t already a number of bowls, pots and other people’s hands in the way. “That means you shouldn’t have any dinner!”

“Ah, so that means you’ll make dinner next time then? What a kind gesture to give to your old man.”

“Wha? I mean, y-yeah! I’ve been working on these sandwiches actually…”

But Dirk knew this promise would leave Lloyd’s head the next day, if not the next hour. Once Genis announced his victory (the boy had a knack for finding much of the gems, drawing some of Lloyd’s jealousy), he decided to go help clear up the bowls in the river.

“Even here you just wanna do chores?” Lloyd whined, knowing he couldn’t get out of the task, remembering Dirk’s lessons on how to treat guests. “Colette’s not even done with her share!”

“Ah, I’m sorry,” she quickly apologized. “I was just really enjoying the food so much. Did you want the rest, Lloyd?”

“Nonsense, lass,” Dirk interrupted well before Lloyd could shout out an enthusiastic ‘yes.’ “‘Haste makes waste.’ Take your time eating and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“It’s not a waste if it’s going in my stomach!” Lloyd whined.

“Maybe for a never-ending one like yours!” Dirk joked with a hearty laugh. “Now go help yer friend. Remember your manners!”

But he knew that food wasn’t the only reason Lloyd lingered inside. A brief look passed between him and Colette, smiles exchanged at a small phrase only the other could hear. With Lloyd just turning seventeen a few weeks ago, a dwarf can notice such glances and understand their meaning, such care in the way Lloyd had always reached out for Colette. It had made the boy rush to protect her, even as tall man stood over him, making him shake.

The boy had never practiced more harder in his training then he did after that incident.

“Still, try to save me some!” Lloyd grinned, giving a wave to Colette before he rushed out the doorway, neglecting to even close it all the way. But Dirk could let little slip-ups happen for now.

Colette was now seated by herself at the table, Dirk having stood to stretch his legs. She took another bite of the potluck, then spat something out immediately. “Ah! It’s a small bunny!”

Fashioned from golden-painted metal, the bunny had inset eyes of red, its ears laid back against its head. “Supposed to bring one good luck. Found the design in the archives over at Palmacosta – yet no one seems to know where it originally came from. Remains a small mystery.”

Colette laid the bunny alongside the bracelet and other small trinkets she had found, though it was still less than Lloyd’s and Genis’ combined. “I guess I’m not really good at this game, but I don’t usually eat this at home.”

“Now, don’t let these boys’ words fool ya. The only thing you need to do is to enjoy the good food! Lloyd should understand such a lesson.”

“Hehe,” Colette smiled at him. She was grown from the small little flower he once saw in the village, head turned towards the sun before she turned to Lloyd. “So does that mean Lloyd is a very good dwarf?”

“The most promising young dwarf that I know of. Now if he’d stop growing like a weed, he’d be perfect!”

Another soft giggle, Colette’s hands poised on the bowl, the end of the spoon stuck in the stew’s depths. “But he already knows so many of your vows! They’re different from the angelic scriptures… They…feel closer to the world. If that makes sense.”

“Dwarves live in the earth. We’re about as close to the world as you can get.” He finished it off with a grin, pulling another smile from her. “I suspect the angels of Martel just have a different view of the world.”

“Hm…yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. Lloyd had truly been right about that… “How about some tea, Colette? To help wash down your meal, if not a stray gem or two!”

“Oh! I’d love some!” She clasped her hands politely. “Me and my grandmother would have tea as well.”

“Good to know the old girl still keeps at it,” he commented. He took a teapot from the pantry, already filling it with water from the bucket nearby. “I only have peppermint on hand, since it seems to be Lloyd’s favorite.”

“I would really like that,” Colette answered, her tone just a fraction softer. “Thank you.”

The girl waited patiently as he heated up the pot, gathering the cups he needed. He snuck a glance to see her still trying to get more of the trinkets in the bowl, but her gaze went to the bunny figurine near her. Perhaps he should give Lloyd’s some hints onto what her next present might be.

“Speaking of vows, has he told you all of them yet?” Dirk asked, taking a filled wooden up and bringing it to Colette.

“Ah, I don’t know,” she confessed. She gently took the cup in both hands, as if wary of spilling it. “But he tells me them all the time! Like, ‘You can do anything if you try!’ Oh, and ‘Never let your feet run faster than your shoes!’ He likes that one a lot, I think.”

“Heh, that boy, of course.” Dirk felt that familiar warmth in his chest. For so many years, and still Lloyd had stayed close to home despite how much the world must have been calling him. “I told him another one a few years ago, but I’ll be a betting dwarf and say that he hasn’t told you this one yet.”

Colette looked quite intrigued, making sure to finish her sip of the tea before she spoke. “Really? Lloyd loves the Dwarven Vows. Why would he not mention it? Maybe it’s his favorite one!”

“Well, anything is quite possible,” Dirk humored. Hefting the teapot, he poured it into his own cup. “Just promise me you won’t laugh too hard.”

“Oh, is it like…a vow made of puns?” Sometimes the girl came up with the strangest reasonings.

“It is not that…but perhaps, as Lloyd once told me, it can be seen as too sentimental.” He laid down the teapot, taking his seat as he did so. “But old men like me are slaves to such sentimental things.”

Colette was quiet, her eyes attentive. He felt a little guilty now that he’d be letting her down with what he would say.

“‘Goodness and love will always win,’” he said softly. “This is Dwarven Vow number seven, and it is one that my own father had told me himself. The Desians had started to make their claim on Sylvarant just a few years later.” He shook his head, taking a sip of his tea, the taste so brisk and sharp. Perfect for Lloyd, who always needed the strongest things. “Personally, it is my own favorite of the bunch.”

And something in what he said changed the expression on Colette’s face.

It was fleeting, and so minor, but he realized that much of what young Colette wore on her face was a mask, even if she was not aware of it. Yet something in her eyes softened then, and she faced the table she sat in, avoiding his gaze.

“Is…that something you really believe?” she asked him. Her voice could barely be heard then, but luckily, in this part of the forest, one could hear the soft rustling of the leaves, and the eternal churn of the river.

“There are things in this world that we must cling to, especially when it may seem hopeless.” He was careful to not speak much more, taking away the half-eaten bowl from her side. The boys must have been done cleaning up the plates by now – or perhaps pushing each other into the river, if he could tell by the fervent splashes just outside.

Still, Colette sat there, as if she had discovered something so new and vast. “Ever since those Desians came to the village, I’ve wondered if…” She clutched the tea cup, looking away. “I’ve wondered if the things I’m meant to do will be enough.”

There were so many other things that Dirk wanted to tell her. Of the Chosen that he had seen walk off to never return, and of those who succeeded – and still did not, if his father’s tales were true. He felt that stark sadness in her grow, and remembered the smiles she and Lloyd had given each other not so long ago. It seemed as if that brightness would have to be given away for the rest of the world.

“We do anything we can to protect those we love,” he said. “And if what we do is moved from that love, I think such things will be more than enough.”

Colette paused once more. She stared into the tea, as if she could divine what was the right decision, the right path. “Love…will always…” Her whisper traveled to his ears, but soon she cut herself off, raising her head to Dirk with that careful smile. “Thank you so much for the dinner, Mr…”

“Just call me Dirk, lass,” he said just as gently. “You have that right.”

It wasn’t long before Lloyd and Genis came back, their clothes and hair soaking wet, but the pots and bowls sparkling clean. Colette and Dirk laughed at the sight, but Lloyd still stood proud that he got everything done despite some setbacks. The boy was able to warm up later with his own tea soon after.

And once again, he saw those same smiles reflected in their faces, turned towards each other. Would such goodness and love be enough to protect them from the hurt that would come?

“Oh, Lloyd, guess what?” Colette said to him, still giggling as Lloyd’s hair dripped water to the floor. “Dirk taught me a new Dwarven Vow!”

“Oh cool!” Lloyd leaned in with eagerness. “What is it? Do I know?”

Maybe he was just a stubborn old man, used to being so hopeful. It’s what made him venture to the surface, believing in humans, in elves, and even in those trapped between them. Even a small star shines in the darkness, he thought, remembering their smiles.

Perhaps it would be enough.

--

.

.

.

Flanoir brought out the chill, could even numb their hands if they weren’t careful. But as they stayed near each other on the balcony, their heat seemed to ward it off.

“Do you know the seventh Dwarven Vow?” he asked, turning to her, a few snowflakes caught onto his hair.

Colette giggled at the sight, so close to reaching up to brush it away before shyness took over. “Hehe, the one you hate the most, right?”

Lloyd grinned at that, taking both her hands in his. Though his own gloves were damp with snow, she had wanted so badly to feel the cold. But not just that; the briskness, the way the snowflakes melted as they hit her skin, and the heat of both their hands when together.

Their thoughts ran on the same course, each of them leaning in towards each other with laughter tumbling down their throats. “Goodness and love will always win!”

In the cold, they stayed close, Lloyd saying just a fraction softer, “I really hope that’s true.” Even then, he couldn’t really stop his smile, didn’t want to at all. The snow drizzled around them both, long after their gleeful shout, tempered by the silence of the night, echoed across the stones. But only they and the skies could hear.

#colloyd #tales of symphonia #colloydweek2020 #lloyd irving #colette brunel

[silvanils]

BTV OC Question Time: If you asked your characters love interest what your characters most defining quality was, what would be their answer?

BTV OC Questions (August/September)

Alistair says: “The way she stands firm when so many others falter. If there isn’t a way to win, Lyanna will make one. She’s so strong, so determined... and she never gives up.”

Zevran says: “Mm... his eyes. And his hands. Oh, wait - that’s not what you’re talking about? Seriously, though, there is a fire inside Dirk, and I often catch sight of the way it shines in his eyes, feel traces of it in his touch. He is full of life, passion... and loyal to those who would stand beside him.”

Morrigan says: “Mahariel is patient and steadfast. Tis most annoying at times, because it also means he can be stubborn, but... I find I mind it less now than I used to. How strange.”

Fenris says: “Some might say it is her sense of humor, her way of somehow finding a bright side in any situation, the fact that she smiles even when the world is falling apart all around her. I disagree. That’s the face Hawke puts on. Mari’s defining trait is that she cares. She is genuine. She wants the world to be better than it is, and she takes steps to make it so.”

Dorian says: “Just one? You make this difficult. I suppose I would say Ash is gentle, but adamant. Brilliant, too, but... no, it is his kindness that defines him. I think that is what he would prefer to be known for, too.”

#musetta3 #btv oc questions #dragon age #;Lyanna/Alistair #;Dirk/Zevran #;Fahren/Morrigan #;Fenris/Mari #;Dorian/Ash

[detectivecatsuitdrew]

Dirk Valentine x Frances Humber AU

While I was making my thoughts video, an AU where Dirk didn’t get hanged because Frances rescued him popped into my head. I’ve never written fanfiction seriously before, but I had to write it out and I figured you guys would appreciate it.

Dirk wondered if she’d be there as he was marched to the gallows. She’d never visited him in jail, and he hadn’t heard a word from her since he was arrested. He stole a look at Sheriff Meryl Humber. There was a reason Frances had never been out to see him, and the reason was staring at him with a pair of cold, unyielding eyes.

His fingers trembled as the rope was placed around his neck. The fibers itched and irritated his skin, but a callous voice in the back of his mind reminded him the sensation wouldn’t last long.

He looked through the crowd, searching desperately for the eyes of the woman he loved. He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to be there or not… if he needed her to be there or not.

There were few times in his life that he’d ever been truly petrified. There was his first robbery, the first time he spoke to Frances, and this.

“Any last words?”

He almost didn’t hear the words spoken to him. He swallowed and opened his mouth to speak when the cry of a horse stole everyone’s attention. Everything came to a grinding halt suddenly as he recognized his white horse forcing the crowd to disperse.

“That won’t be necessary,” a familiar voice said. “There will be no last words today.”

His mouth unfurled into a grin. Frances, dressed in his clothing, pulled a gun out from its holster. She aimed for the rope and fired. 

With the rope now free from the structure, and with a new reason to fight again, Dirk elbowed the guard that had rushed toward him in the stomach. He leapt off the gallows, knowing that there’d be someone to catch him.

The horse reared and Frances let out a cry of victory.

The people, knowing full-well the sheriff’s daughter, were too caught up in confusion and shock to process what was happening.

“Sheriff?! What should we do?!” someone cried.

Sheriff Humber could only stare at Frances. He wouldn’t arrest his daughter, not for anything in the world. There was a look in his eye, a glint that almost looked like tears. Was it guilt? Betrayal? Heartbreak? Dirk couldn’t tell.

The sheriff’s lackeys, however, were already after them. Frances urged the horse onward, and suddenly, they were flying eastward in the next phase of their daring escape.

Dirk fastened his hands around Frances’ waist the way she had his many times before.

To their disbelief, the gap between them and the Dry Creek law enforcement was shrinking.

There was only one chance to lose them. It shook the earth as it came, spitting black clouds into the sky from its smoke stack, blaring its resounding whistle through the desert.

“Frances, we ain’t gonna make it!” Dirk said. 

“Yes, we are!” Frances insisted. “Trust me!”

Frances commanded the horse to run as fast as he possibly could as the train thundered down the tracks. Another yowl broke free from Frances’ throat as the three of them crossed over the threshold. Even in his more dangerous heists, Dirk had never been so close to getting flattened. 

But Frances’ plan had worked. A train several cars long now separated them from Dry Creek, and as they turned to carry on, their escape was in reach.

“Where are we going?” Dirk asked.

“You know the place,” Frances said.

They rode onward. Wherever it was, it was a ways away still.

“I can’t believe you pulled that off,” Dirk said, still exhilarated to be alive.

“I’m honestly shocked myself,” Frances said. “But I couldn’t let… I couldn’t let them…”

Dirk gently squeezed her and nestled the side of his face against hers. 

After an hours’ worth of riding, Dirk started to recognize his surroundings. He’d been there not too long before his arrest.

They arrived at the cave dwellings, the place where Dirk had hidden golden hearts for Frances. 

“You figured it out,” Dirk said, obviously impressed. “Always knew you were smart, but you solved my puzzles faster n’ I expected.”

Frances smiled. 

“I just wish I’d been there to see you figure it out. You’re the prettiest thing when you’re thinking so hard,” said Dirk.

Blush involuntarily came to Frances’ cheeks. Still smiling, she gestured for him to follow her.

She led him up to the room where he’d hidden the treasure. He saw new piles of clothes and other items added, including suitcases and train tickets.

“Where’re we fixin’ to go?” Dirk asked.

“East,” Frances said. “They won’t get us there.”

“That’s far away from home,” Dirk said.

“Not if you’re with me,” Frances said.

Dirk gave a small smile, but the tone of his voice was serious. 

“You don’t have to do this for me, Frances,” Dirk said. 

“I’m not doing it for you; I’m doing it for us,” Frances said. “So we can have a second chance.”

Dirk nodded. “Okay.”

Frances slipped her hands over Dirk’s face. She pulled his face into hers and kissed him as deeply as she could, refusing to let him go. He reciprocated immediately, grabbing her by her waist and holding her against him tightly. They stayed there for a few moments, catching their breath and losing it all at the same time, knowing that tomorrow they’d board a train bound for the east coast.

“Dirk?” Frances said.

“Yes?” Dirk replied.

“Will you marry me?” she asked.

Dirk smiled and let out a delighted laugh. “Yes, Frances. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Frances grinned.

They kissed once more, laughing and holding onto each other, steadfast and forever in love.

#just a quick little romantic au #with a happy ending #fanfiction #dirk valentine #frances humber #sha #secret of shadow ranch #clue crew #nancy drew #herinteractive #her interactive #nancy drew pc games