#A common field one day. A field of honor forever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cdragons · 6 months

Text

Procesión de la Muerte (Procession of the Dead) - Druig x Hecate!Eternal Reader Halloween Oneshot

Pairings: Druig x Hecate!Eternal Reader, Druig x Kaetlyn Word Count: over 4.0k Summary: How a wife's love for her emo-pacifist mind-controller husband accidentally created a centuries old legend of the Amazon Rainforest, ended up bringing to light one of the most sacred and honored celebrated traditions in South and Central America. Warning(s): Words that are bold and italisized indicate spoken in another language bc I can't speak nor write Spanish & don't want to offend anyone by using Google Translate, Angst, mention of death & genocide & war (fun stuff y'all), mentions of depression and PTSD, slight mention of blood, necromancy practices, probably really inaccurate descriptions of magic and magical practices, Kaet is seriously so gone for Druig (i fucking love these two dorks), Cerberus is the goodest boi,

Notes: Yes, I know that Halloween has technically passed, but I had midterms and projects during the time so I'm using the rest of the season as a Free Fall fics pass until December. So this oneshot was beta read by the ever-so lovely @ethereal-athalia, who has so graciously sacrificed herself agreed to beta read all of my fics for the upcoming future while my usual beta reader @valeskafics, is currently really busy with law school until the foreseeable future! Even so, please go visit her blog because she is one of the best writers on Tumblr, especially if you are a fan of Ewan Mitchell, and the HOTD/GOT universe! If you have read any of my past works, you know that my girl @ethereal-athalia is pretty much the co-parent of this Eternals AU idea, and I absolutely love sharing ideas with her, and making connections to make these fics more interesting. Anyway, please be kind and enjoy!

There was an energy that encompassed the autumnal season’s high holiday that made its ancient magic so enchanting and powerful. It was a time known across practitioners of the mystic arts of any field that autumn was a season known more than for its abundance and harvest. It was a time of transformation, of when summer’s green fertility gave way to winter’s bleak barrenness. It was when the veil between the physical and spiritual planes was at its thinnest. A time in which both magic practitioners and mundane were able to catch the slightest glimpse to the other side. This was the time where magic was at its peak, and it was all because of you- his love; his wife; his angel of shadow & death who was also his harbinger of light & life.

Although the environment of his home rarely changes throughout the year, Druig still felt the unmistakable chills that danced on his bare skin that came with transition from summer to autumn, and from there approached winter’s foreshadowing. Despite the abandonment of summer’s warmth, the mind-controller Eternal was often teased by you for being considered an avid enthusiast for the unforgiving seasons by the standards of their family. However, it was Samhain that made your husband greet the year’s end with such glee. Furthermore, it was a day that would forever be etched into the bareness of his being by the testaments of your love and devotion towards him. Each act from you followed from an event that harrowed him.

But the only way to best understand was by starting at the beginning.

It was no secret that you worked best at night with the only witnesses to your work being the moon and stars. Although you adored the bustling livelihood that thrived in the village you and your husband created, there was something about the darkness and solitude of the night that made Kaetlyn feel more connected to her magic than the garish light of day could ever dream to accomplish. It was common for Kaetlyn would burn the midnight oil conducting experiments and immerse herself in research to secrets that still remained a mystery to her – even after 7000 years of existence.

Meanwhile, Druig would fall into a deep state that vaguely resembled a still corpse if it were not for the subtle rising and falling of his chest in tandem with his breathing. When the lily-pale mind-controller fell asleep, there was little that could get him up from his slumber. Too many times Ajak had lectured him for how late he would sleep into the day – not to mention the staggering occurrences in which he would accidentally sleep through a natural catastrophe. It became commonplace for their former leader to ask his lover to awaken him in the most compromising acts. It was inconvenient, but it got the job done.

But since the couple separated from their family as a result of witnessing the fall and horrific genocide of the once glorious Aztec civilization centered around Tenochtitlan from the Spanish Conquistadors, there would be nights where Druig would be unable to fall asleep. It did not matter what he would do in attempt to tire him, his memory of fire and screams plagued his mind in an endless cycle of misery and devastation. It did not matter that he prevented further bloodshed by taking over the minds of the humans; it mattered even less when he and his angel led the horde of mortals south from the ruins to the land that they now call home. Sleep always evaded the somber Eternal, and whatever sleep he managed to get would be afflicted by memories turned nightmares of the horrors he had been forced to witness as a bystander to humanity’s cruelty by orders of their former leader.

The sight of your dearest in such agony tore your heart in the most brutal manner. Although you had also been long tormented by watching 7000 years of destruction, your heart had been hardened as a consequence to the multitude of deaths that you had to personally oversaw as a physician and a fighter. While you still carried hope for mankind, most of the naïve idealist dreams expired with time. However, this was not the case for Druig. You knew more than anyone that the strength of your lover’s will was overshadowed by the tenderness in his heart for those weaker than him and his family. It was that persisting quality of the beautiful mind-controller that drew the impulsive shadow wielder into his orbit, and eventually what caused such enduring steadfastness from your part.

It was not without tremendous effort from his wife’s part to get the immortal insomniac to get some rest. But all of your efforts were wasted on her part. Every night you would lead Druig to your shared bed, and whisper sweet words of comfort, as well as voicing your desperate pleas for him to finally rest. You would carefully stroke the firm lines of his frame with the tender touch of her fingertips, quickly finding areas of taut muscle to knead away any knots with your skillful hands. You had created countless versions of sleeping draughts that would calm his mind, and thousands of potions that would prevent him from dreams. But memories held more power than dreams, and so all of your efforts were met with the continued grief of your beloved.

Not being able to bear the sight of Druig’s turmoil, you decided to take further action. With your talents in the arcane, you designed a complex ritual that could only be completed at a grand scale- one that would take over an entire continent. It involved a form of magic that took up so much power and energy, it was only to be used as a last resort in any form of situation- necromancy. A magic that was only possible in theory, its crudest form was born before the outermost Walls of Babylon had yet to be constructed. You were approached by a shaman that was outcasted by her tribe when her husband discovered that she had been sacrificing their livestock to Ereshikigal, the Mesopotamian Queen of the Dead that ruled the Underworld. The woman had thought the Eternal to be the goddess herself, and begged you to allow the woman to see her late son that died in a raid.

Replying with only that her son was in peace in the higher dome in the heavens, you advised the shaman to return to her husband and perform a cleansing ritual to purify their home from the anger of the murdered animals. However, the shaman only pressed further, blurting out that the spirit of her son had been calling out to her in dreams. She revealed that she would stop until her son was at peace in the arms of Anu in An. Against you better judgement, you allowed yourself to be swayed by the mother’s grief, telling her that she would try her best to guide her son to the heavens so that he may rest in peace, but there would be no guarantee of success. After the woman gave her thanks by kneeling to the ground in a deep bow, you set off to work.

The Eternal spent months scouring over texts that theorized the use of magic manifestation, and detailed dreams of the dead rising. You recruited Makkari to search for more artifacts and texts in efforts to make the poor woman’s request a reality, a favor the silent speedster was more than happy to fulfill. It was only when winter was soon to be upon them that you were able to summon enough energy to prepare the ritual. Tracing a circle into the earth to serve as a temporary portal to the spiritual realm, the Eternal carved in the symbols that would allow you to put greater focus into directing the energy in the circle to attract the spirit’s energies before trapping it within its boundaries. From there, you would use the symbols that you painted on your skin to allow the magic around you to deconstruct the spirit’s current form into unbound electromagnetic particles, before reconstructing the matter into a more visible form. This flow of energy and change in the state of matter could only be achieved by physically placing your hands in the center of the circle. Using a mixture of your blood and the mother’s as a medium for the spirit to bind to so that there would not be such a large gap in the energy needed to activate the spell, it was finally complete.

It should have not have come as a surprise to her when she lost consciousness towards the end of the ritual. The raw power that connected her body to the earth felt as if liquid fire was coursing through her veins. The painted symbols became carvings as they dug into her body with searing pain as blood poured from the wounds. And though her body collapsed and she was too exhausted to keep her eyes open, Kaet knew that she was successful. As she laid on the ground, two words belonged to a young man’s voice echoed in her ear.

“Thank you.”

And from a budding magical practitioner’s too soft heart, came forth the rawest and crudest form of one of the most innately unstable and powerful fields of magic- necromancy.

From that day, the symbols took permanent residence on your skin, along with the ability to see the dead that were tied to the physical world, unable to move on for whatever reason. And although you adored your newfound power, Druig made you promise to never commit such acts on your own ever again. The ancient witch was met with screams of panic from Sersi when she and Sephia ventured out in search for you after seeing that you had not been in your room that morning. The site of you lying in a pool of your own blood with unfamiliar symbols etched into your skin was haunting to say the least.

The risk of your husband staring at you with glaring disappointment and furious worry was one worth taking if it meant that he could finally allow himself to rest. It took years of careful preparation; painfully precise attention to detail and timing; and endless travels across the globe to scour for masters in various fields of magic that specialized in divination, transformation, and theology. After nearly 10 years, when the veils between the two worlds finally overlapped for magic to reach its peak- along with the aid provided by the appearance in the hare moon’s rarity (when the earth was in perfect alignment with the Sun and Moon)- you knew that there was no time better than now.

That night, you sent out your shadows to search for any souls from the same genocide that haunted her beloved, and if they were in a state of unrest. You handed the village’s Head Weaver a small leather bag filled with ebony wood beads strung together and red string. While you hated to keep secrets from Druig, you knew that he would be able to sense the shift in the energies that surrounded them if you were successful. When the preparations were finally completed and your oldest shadow informed you of the location of the ritual, you left the bracelet that the Weaver finished – enchanted with spell that would be activated the same time of the ritual – on your pillow of their bed as you laid a tender kiss on his brow before setting off with only Cerberus by your side.

When Druig rose from his slumber – still wrought with gunpowder and fire – he instinctually reached for his wife, only for his fingers to feel a smooth, rounded texture. Opening his eyes, he noticed that your pillow was cold, but showed signs being slept in from the previous night. While such a sight would cause a much more panicked reaction from the man, he was comforted by the small note that laid carefully next to his gift. Picking up the parchment, a sense of calm washed over Druig as he took in the notes of jasmine and myrrh that come from your natural parfum.

Contents of Letter Below it:

My dearest Beloved,

I am sure that my absence from our bed must have been a rather awful shock to you. Please know that I am more than well, and have only been informed of unusual occurrences full of malicious whispers and daunting sights. And as much as I adore our home and your company, you know more than anyone of how my curiosity cannot be satisfied with only rumors and tales. No, I decided that it would be best to see it with my very own eyes. And although it would bring me nothing but joy to have you by my side, I could not bear wake you from your slumber. Rest suits my love, and it has been decades since you have slept so fitfully. Your dreams have been a constant source of your misery, and I do believe that this area may hold some promise to show me of how to ease your mind.

Rest assured my darling that I have travelled alone in my endeavors, I would never be so careless as to travel so far from you without the company of our sweet boy. Do not dare tell another soul of this, but I believe that the trek will do our boy some good. He has grown very lazy as a result of your spoiling. Yes, your spoiling, Druig- all coddling of Cerbie has been solely enacted by you, and none whatsoever committed by me. Do not dare attempt to argue this matter with me, for I would deny it till my final breath (and you know how stubborn I can be).

What did you think of my gift? During one of my many wanderings in the woods surrounding our home, I spied a dying tree with jet-black lumber. It stood in solitude from its thicket, but that only made its splendor even more enchanting, so much so that it reminded me of you. I used one of its branches to make some wooden beads, and asked for some leather to bind them. Please make sure that you wear them at all times, as they’ll reveal a little secret that will be revealed to you on the night of the full moon that will be arriving soon.

All of my love for you and your heart,

Kaetlyn

Despite the overall lack of sleep over the years, all of Druig’s anxiety seemed to wash away at your thoughtfulness. The bracelet was very elegant in its simplicity, but he could tell that it was made to last for lifetimes. Placing it on his wrist, a blanket of subtle warmth washed over him as he admired the little symbols carved into the wood. Tracing his finger over the design, he certified them to match that were etched into his angel’s lovely form. He would recognize the markings anywhere; it would be shameful if he didn’t after spending hours tracing their outline with his tongue. The knowledge that the full moon’s rising would begin tomorrow, and last for around 2-3 days. Relieved that he would not be without the company of his love for very long, Druig prepared himself for another day in protecting the compound and the humans that reside within its boundaries.

After you managed to track down the location of the largest gathering of souls, you set off preparations for the ritual immediately. A ceremony of this magnitude would shift the energies between the two worlds for the rest of eternity, so it was imperative that there would be no mistakes. Sephia already had instructions of ensuring that pathways that followed the ley lines in her journey would remain clear of any natural obstacles. It seemed too perfect that the fall of such a grand civilization that met its end with war and genocide would be at the center of such innate hidden supernatural energy. Tracing the circle around the entire city, you sat at the top of the very same temple where she and Druig had last seen the others. As the time of the moon’s rising grew shorter, you could feel the power felt only like a whisper gradually grow into a rumbling growl. You could hear the spirits that surrounded her being pulled toward inside the circle.

Wrath

Grief

Betrayal

Woe

Pain- so much pain

But they would all be at peace in the end.

Before long, twilight passed and dusk had come and the stars glittered in the endless expanse of the darkness. But all had paled in comparison to the illustrious light of the moon. Every month during the full moon, you and your husband would spend the nights locked in each other’s embrace, frozen in their admiration of its ivory glow and taking in their heightened emotional energies.

You wondered it was natural to feel so much pleasure from the power that came from being bathed in the blood red rays that came from the rare eclipse. Cerberus watched in silent obedience, not daring to move in fear of disrupting his mother’s spell, and thus ruining all of her work.

As the moon’s shadow hit the circle, the outermost boundary began to glow. As the celestial body inched across the sky, the faint howls echoed until it ascended into a deafening roar. When the moon reached it apex – directly in the center of the circle – the symbols engraved to her skin glowed while the ground beneath her feet rumbled and sang as her body collapsed from the overwhelming pressure. You could faintly hear your beloved hound’s frantic barking in the distance, trying to scare away all and any threat that came to his mother and savior. But soon they lessened into panicked whimpers at the sight of the millions of forms that were appearing before his very eyes.

In a village far away, a certain brunette’s enchanted bracelet’s beads with identical scores began to hum and glow against the lily-petal pallor on his wrist.

Before the power could tear you apart, the moon passed the circle’s boundaries, and it borders and symbols no longer sang and glowed. And when you lifted yourself with as much strength she had, you couldn’t stop the smile that took over her your as tears streamed from your eyes from the overwhelming joy that flooded your heart.

“I’m sorry for the pain you’ve had to endure for so long, but I’m happy to tell you that it will not be for much longer.”

While normally Druig wouldn’t need to be so intensely involved in matters of the village, it allowed his mind distracted him from missing his wife enough to just through the day. In any case, the earthquake from last night frightened the residents of the compound with how close they were to winter. The days were getting shorter, and this meant that they needed to prepare for the harshness that would come for their crops, their families, and eventually their way of life. Multiple people came up to Druig to ask if last night’s earthquake was a sign of larger disaster brought by the gods. While he did his best to placate their concerns, the patience he had was wearing thin. Luckily Sephia managed to intercept their line of questioning before he would lose his temper, and he was able to take a short rest.

It wasn’t until he heard a familiar barking in the distance that immediately caught his attention. Dashing out the hut he shared with you, he saw Cerberus sitting on his hind legs as his little tail wagged in glee and the little taps echoed in his ears.

“Cerberus,” he exclaimed in joy as he gathered the black Doberman in his arms, “where have you been? Where’s your mum?”

At the mention of his Mum, Cerberus immediately began tugging on his Da’s dark blue robe. While it wasn’t enough to cause any tear or inspire any panic, it did tell the man enough information to know that something or someone was coming- and it would be best that Druig gave his entire attention over it. Following his wife’s hound over to commune’s outermost edge, he was only met with the familiar chirps and song of the forest. A few minutes passed by and Cerberus remained still, as if he were just waiting for something great.

Suddenly, the fine hairs across Druig’s body stood up straight as an overwhelming presence of otherworldly beings began to approach close to where he and Cerberus stood. Sensing that they were no longer alone, the hound starting howling to the moon that hung above them. Running toward the strange energy, Druig watched in awed rapture at the figure that stood front center with familiar designs that glowed gold down their arms, leading the army of apparitions with a singular torch. Recognizing the haunting designs, Druig was engulfed in frozen wonder at the army that you managed to summon, and the control and strain your body had to endure to stage such a feat.

When the two ancient lovers reached one another, with only pockets of space between their bodies, Druig launched himself to embrace his angel. Gladly reciprocating the act, you made sure that the torch you were holding remained in the air as you let yourself be enveloped in the security of your husband’s arms while taking in the sweet smell of his sweat.

“I should have known that little rumble was from you,” he whispered while laying small and frequent kisses across her neck, “nothin’ you do can ever be done halfway, can it?”

“Never,” she whispered back, “are you ready for my surprise?”

You stepped aside so that her husband could truly understood what you had done. Although Druig was initially upset by the loss of warmth that came from you leaving his embrace, he stopped and stared at the sight ahead of him.

Hundreds of thousands of specters that held a pearly blue glow that went as far out as his eyes could take him. But instead of fear, Druig felt…warm, and strangely…at peace. Taking a step closer, he slowly reached out his hand as a way to ask for permission. The nearest spirit was that of a child, going no higher than his knee, eagerly taking his hand before a wide smile overtook his face.

“Hello Mister Druig, it has been so long.”

Eyes wide in shock, Druig turned his head to stare at his wife in disbelief.

It couldn’t be…it shouldn’t be possible. Then again, you always took the label “impossible” as just a simple label.

As Druig turned back to stare at vision before him, familiar faces that he thought were forever gone flooded his sight.

Before him were all the souls that were lost so young at the fall of Tenochtitlan over 10 years ago.

You did this…you brought them all back. As his body failed to support him in shock, all Druig could do was openly weep in joy at the knowledge that his love- his wonderful, incredible, truly magnificent marvel of a woman- risked everything so that these people could have just the slightest chance of closure and peace.

Taking your husband’s frame in your arms, you softly turned him until he could face you.

“Do you think there might be some space in our home for our guests, my dearest?” You asked with bright eyes and youthful mirth as you knew full-well his answer.

Druig could only let out a wet laugh – his tears hadn’t stopped, but he never felt so at peace and happy for so long.

“Kaet my darling,” he started, “nothing would give me more pleasure.”

500 Years Later

‘The Procession of the Dead had been a tale that has been passed down by the many indigenous tribes located in the Amazonian Rainforest for over twenty generations. They say that the first procession began as an act of mercy from Mictecacihuatl, who was known as the “lady of the dead.” Legends state that it was Mictecacihuatl who summoned the spirits of tormented souls, and led them on a journey across the Amazon rainforest so that the souls may find fulfillment and peace in order to move on to the afterlife. The earliest record of the procession stated that the procession began with a ritual of a cursed city, followed by a powerful earthquake. But it was granted by the Guardians of the Forest, as the trees and rocks cleared the path in order to make the journey easier for the merciful goddess. Although there have been multiple cases of alleged sightings of the legend even now, many of the tribes that still reside in the forest celebrate October 31st as the day where the dead would find peace in the physical world, before finally finding peace in their next life. It is for that reason that multiple towns in countries of South America will build a straw monument of Mictecacihuatl holding a burning torch, so that the spirits of the lost was make the journey for peace.’

A small boy with large aquamarine eyes and patiently sat in front of a large easel in his art room, gleefully listening to his favorite educational podcast. He loved to listen to the origins of how his birthday started out, even if he wasn’t there when it started.

“Hamish,” he heard his Da call out, “you wanna get ready so that we can make it to your Tio Phastos’ house in Chicago to meet with everyone! It’s rude for the birthday boy to arrive last!”

Making the finishing touches to the canvas, Hamish silently grabbed his Mimikyu costume from his bedpost before racing down the stairs. He couldn’t wait to show his Mami his painting when they got back tomorrow, she was going to love it!

I hope you enjoyed reading this fic! Please drop a like if you did enjoy it, and also a reblog or comment if you look forward to reading more!

Tagging: @valeskafics, @ethereal-athalia, @aphroditesmoon, @its-actually-minicika, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @asa-do-your-thing, @3vergr3en, @themeanestlittlewitch, @sunphyre, @karimac, @hypnoticmistake, @tacorice, @angelnyx, @heliosphere8, @deanthomaswhore, @vikingqueen28, @getawaycardotmp3, @spacetalbot, @siempre-bucky, @diaryofapillowprincess, @littledoveofchaos, @snowprincesa1, @prettyvintageafternoon

Let me know in the comments if you would like to be tagged!

#marvel eternals #marvel x reader #druig x reader #eternals x reader #druig imagine #divider #druig x oc #druig x eternal!reader #druig x female reader #druig x y/n #druig fanfiction #halloween #halloween is a lifestyle #at least until december #halloween fic #fall fic

87 notes · View notes

arlerts-angel · 4 months

Text

𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫 𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

our playlist ♡

childhood friends to lovers , sweet tooth , "this made me think of you so i bought it", late night talking, deep conversations, "i don't know who i'd be without you but i don't want to find out"

who: armin arlert

ship name: mykaru 🤍

anniversary: november 11th

zodiac: we're both scorpios

love languages: his is quality time and mine is words of affirmation

career: armin works in the tech field and i'm a writer!

first impressions: i thought he was adorable and wanted to SQUEEZE HIM. he wouldn't speak to me lol

getting closer: mikasa introduced me to armin because she thought we'd get along well. armin and i had a lot in common but he was very nervous to talk to me. he quickly realized that we were neighbors so we'd walk home together and get to know each other

notable supportive people: mikasa!! i am forever grateful for her introducing us 🥺 and i'm very thankful that eren encouraged him to "nut up and talk to me"

problems in the relationship?: i struggle with retroactive jealousy (iykyk lol)

how you approach problems: most issues that come up are resolved fairly easily and quickly but with my retroactive jealousy it takes lots of reassurance and patience on armin's end

falling in love: i fell first, and hard. armin took a while to come to terms with his feelings but one day we were just hanging out and we looked at each other and just. we just knew.

first date: we went to an art museum and got boba!!

favorite kind of date: surprise dates! armin is so thoughtful and is very good at planning dates that i'd never even think of.

first kiss: we had our first kiss on a walk home one day. we were just talking then stopped in our tracks. we looked at each other and he said "i wanna kiss you but it might suck. n-not because of you though! i-i don't think i'm a good kisser." so i leaned in and kissed him.

confession: he knew i had feelings for him early on. we didn't date until much later. years, in fact. we met in middle school and didn't start dating until our freshman year of high school. he came over to hang out and he just spilled his guts to me 🤍

favorite forms of affection: i love kissing him, he loves to cuddle 🥰

who cooks: me! he's a better baker

who gets the other to come to bed: him

ways you comfort your f/o: i like to stroke his hair and rub his back

who is more jealous/how do you handle jealousy?: i'm more jealous 100%. he knows this, and makes an effort to make me feel respected and as comfortable as possible in situations where i may not be feeling the most secure.

how you cuddle: he lays on his back and i lay my head on his chest <3

what you love most about them: god it's so hard to pick a favorite thing about him because i love everything. i'll say his patience and willingness to put in effort for us 🤍 he has such a kind heart and he's pretty nice to look at too 😍

what they love most about me: "you have a big heart and care greatly for people, strangers even. you put others before yourself without a second thought."

proposal: it was very thoughtful. he took me to our favorite musueum and proposed at my favorite exhibit. eren and mikasa were there to see it 🤍

wedding: we had a small wedding. mikasa was our maid of honor and sasha's siblings were the ring bearers/flower girls 🤍 eren was best man (of course!) levi officiated the wedding and jean and connie were groomsmen! my bridesmaids were sasha and historia.

about pregnancy: currently expecting baby no. 1!! it took a few tries with some negatives along the way, but now we're gonna be welcoming a sweet baby girl in the new year!! you can visit @arlertlife for more domestic/family self-ship content!

art commissioned from @stoned-eren + @wiispywitch

#🧭 — navigation #💞 — self ship #🤍 — mykaru

20 notes · View notes

ezzydantes · 7 months

Text

The End of It All...

Author's note: I had some things happen recently that made mortality rear its ugly head. So the following may be triggers or such for some, but definitely angst. For now its Luffy and Zoro perspectives...

*********

Luffy

You had fought so bravely.... so hard to survive, but it wasn't enough. Luffy had fought his hardest to get to you and Chopper had done the same trying to save the future Queen of the Pirates. The wounds were just bigger than anyone. Luffy held you close to his body... whispering how sorry he was that he couldn't have saved you sooner and that you were a target at all.

Your lifeless body dangled in his arms... How was he supposed to go on without you? You had gotten this far.... how the hell was he supposed to achieve his dream now? He was always going to be King of the Pirates.... but you were supposed to be his Queen. The world had changed forever with your passing...

Luffy eventually let go of you so that Chopper could take care of your remains.

It was a somber night the moment they let go of you. None of them were willing to part with you, but they knew they had to be strong for their captain. It had turned into a bigger affair than expected. Word had spread during the days they were preparing your body and getting everything ready for what was supposed to be a small funeral... just between the main crew of the Straw Hats... but it had turned into a more complicated and extravagant occasion. There was a whole procession of your friends and allies leading your body to the small boat that Franky had built for you. It had been common among your people to be burned at sea. Luffy had remembered the painful conversation you two had years ago about what was to happen should one or both of you die. He had chosen Usopp to do the honors of shooting the arrow that would set the boat on fire, but everyone had placed something that represented what you were to them. Nami had placed the berry you had given her when you learned about the deal with Arlong. Zoro placed the dagger he had purchased to have restored for you, that he was going to train you with. Usopp placed a small diary of his grand "adventures" that you loved to hear so often. Sanji placed a copy of your favorite dessert in along with a cookbook and his favorite photo of you two when he was teaching you how to make Luffy's favorite meal. Chopper placed a laurel wreath... to signify your status as his Queen... and all the fun afternoons you two spent in the fields studying plants and herbs for his medical supplies. Robin placed a copy of your favorite novel, the one you had her read to soothe her spirit and save her from the constant monopoly of research. Franky had hand carved your boat with details of your life and the ones that loved you to include how the two of you met. Brooks had placed your favorite sheet music from the piano in.

Luffy had written you a love letter. It was not something the crew had known about, but the two of you would leave each other love notes and letters in your room on each other's pillows on occasion. You were the love of his life and he wanted you to know that before he had to part with you. Everyone was moved by how sweet he was putting his letter in your hands. Kissing both before kissing your forehead, then both cheeks, and finally your lips. He declared his undying love for you before Zoro and Sanji helped him push your boat into the ocean. He stood there for a moment... taking in the scene before him and trying to accept that his lover was gone and so too was the child that had been growing inside of you. This bit of information Luffy ordered only stayed between himself and Chopper. He signaled Usopp when your boat had drifted far enough out. The girls had surprised him with having the rest of the fleet light lanterns from their respective boats. Brooks played your favorite song on the violin.

Luffy had made good on his promises and became the King of Pirates..... but he refused to take another lover after you.... so to his dying day, you were the only one for him. He had tattooed your name to his chest... right above his heart, a reminder that you were always with him. And on that day a few years after he had become King... he was surrounded by his crew, but it was you who had come for him, rather than Death.

"Hey Lover", you cooed to him as you stood beside his bed. You gently pushed his bangs out of his face with one hand and caressed his cheek with the other. "Y/n....", he barely whispered as he looked as if he was talking to thin air. "Y/n?" Robin questioned as the rest of the main Straw Hat crew looked back at her, "Even after all this time, Captain?"

"Never was anyone else....", Luffy smiled as he stared into his girl's eyes, "I missed you..."

"I've come to take you home, your majesty...", you teased as you continued to hold his face between your hands.

"I like Lover better than your Majesty....", he mumbled as he pouted to you, "But I am ready to go home..."

"Luffy? Who the hell you talking to?" Sanji questioned his Captain.

"I think y/n is here.... to take him with her....", Chopper began to sob.

"As much as I hate to see our Captain go.... he's endured enough... let him go with y/n..." Zoro stated matter of factly, "They never got to really be together..."

"I agree...", Franky was crying, "They were separated before they actually had a chance to live their lives together."

"He was so heartbroken when we lost her....", Usopp sobbed, "I hope they both finally find peace."

"They're happier than you know...", Brooks smiled as he looked towards the pair of you walking off from the King of Pirates now still body.

"Luffy....", Nami whispered to herself as she finally closed his eyes, "Until we meet again..."

*****

Zoro

His eyes were wide in horror as he watched the blade of his cursed sword run right through your chest. Blood began running down your mouth as your lungs began to fill with the crimson liquid and you began to choke. "Y/N!!!!" the swordsman screamed desperately as he caught your body in his arms. He was immediately surrounded by Luffy, Franky, Brooks, Usopp, and Sanji. They were keeping anyone else from getting to the two of you while Chopper tried to check your wounds.

"Zoro...", the reindeer began to cry as he examined you. It was a fatal wound and he didn't have the means necessary to treat you properly on the field. Even if he had you back on the Sunny.... the amount of blood pouring out of you even while he was trying to pack around the wound.... he couldn't take the sword out because otherwise you would bleed out completely.

Zoro held you tight to him and began whispering in your ear. He didn't want to let you go... he had already lost Kuina... his best friend. He didn't want to lose his girl too. You were the only one who actually tolerated him aside from Luffy. "Baby girl... I need you to stay with me... stay with me, okay?" the green haired man begged, "Why would you do that? That was so stupid, y/n.... I can handle myself..."

"As if I would let anything happen to you....", you mumbled into his neck. You tried so hard to lift your hand up to cup his face but you were getting weaker by the second and speaking was going to take up your energy. There were some things you needed to tell him. "You're.... you're too stubborn for your own good.... so when.... when I pass, you can't busy yourself with training and losing your mind like you did with her... I will haunt you before I let you go down that rabbit hole again...", you quietly stated, "Also... I CHOSE to save you.... so don't be dramatic about it..."

The swordsman actually chuckled at that. "You're gonna be fine... Chopper is gonna fix you right up", he lied. He knew from the look on his friend's face.. you weren't coming back to the Sunny. He was losing his girl and the mother of his daughter. What was he supposed to tell Sora? That he had failed in protecting her mother and that is why she was going to grow up without you... This life was difficult and to be honest Sora was a surprise... but you wouldn't change having Zoro's daughter for the world... and neither would he.

"Baby... I know its alot... but I need some warmth... can I get some sun?" you barely whispered. You felt your lover's tears hitting your face but you were losing consciousness and so speaking was already a burden.

Your swordsman sadly smiled and informed the crew he was taking you higher into the mountains. Begging them to keep people at bay. You knew he was desperate then... because since when did YOUR Zoro ever beg. You're situation was dire... but you already knew that. You had to tell him everything you felt in this moment because you wouldn't have a second chance.

"i love you... I have no other words than i love you and if you ever feel lost...especially with Sora.... You have Robin and Nami. They'll know what to do... and... and she has all of her uncles to help keep her safe. Don't give the cook a hard time, he's your greatest ally besides the Captain..." you coughed and more blood spewed from your mouth,

"You're worried about the waiter?" Zoro growled. He readjusted you in his grip.

"No... ", you chuckled. "I'm more worried about you..."

The green haired man began sobbing. He held you closer to him and placed his head on your chest. Your heartbeat getting slower from the blood loss.

"Listen to me, my Love.... I 'll be waiting for you in the next life...." you were barely breathing... the blood in your lungs becoming more and more.

"Y/N!!!!" your swordsman shouted as he felt the last breath leave your body. All he could do was hold you close to him and cry his heart out. When he finally was able to compose himself he brought you back to the crew. They had defeated your enemies but seeing your lifeless body being held so preciously in his arms was more than any of them could bear.

Your funeral was a small affair. Your crew kept it between the original members only and each one of them made sure to have their time with Sora. When they sent you off in a coffin built by Franky into the sea, Zoro held your daughter tightly to his chest. Hating the fact that your daughter didn't understand why Mommy wasn't around anymore. For the next few months, each crew member helped him and Sora go through the grief of losing you.

Zoro made it a point to train your daughter to defend herself better. He refused to lose her, and when the day came that he finally passed.... Sora had made sure her father knew, it was okay to go back to you. She had surpassed him in his sword skills and once that had become a reality is when he felt the need to return to you. He was surrounded by his crew members and greeted by you and Luffy who had passed a few years after you. The three amigos were back together again.

*******

Author's ending note: I plan on making one with Sanji, Ace... and possibly Shanks... lemme know.

#one piece #roronoa zoro #monkey d. luffy

14 notes · View notes

ubeerosophy · 6 months

Text

Let Me Be Where I Am

I love the smell of dirt.

Especially the smell of freshly overturned dirt.

That smell invokes more memories and emotions in me than I could ever hope to grasp or comprehend.

A large part of my youth was spent on farmland, and when my 101-year-old grandfather died recently, I jumped on the back of one of his tractors with my cousin as he fired it up in his honor. It’s a small old tractor that we affectionately refer to as the “H.” It has a loader, or what we called a bucket on the front, and it was as synonymous with my grandpa as the old green truck he drove for decades or the pocketknife he routinely cleaned his fingernails with.

As I stepped onto the thin metal bar protruding from the bottom of the H, I was hit with a sensation I hadn’t felt in years. An extremely familiar one. Perhaps it was nostalgia, but it felt like something more. After my cousin backed the H out of the shed and we started traversing over the gravel half circle that cuts through the farm, a thousand images began flooding my mind. Most of them similar and impossible to place, but each important and formative.

I was transported back to all of the times I stood on that thin metal bar while my dad or grandpa drove that tractor across an empty field, the open barn lot or countless other locations. As far back as my earliest memories go, I can see the ground passing beneath my feet. Perhaps we were going to move a large rock out of a field so that it didn’t damage a plow, or maybe we were going to push loose brush out of the way somewhere else on the property. It’s also possible we were going to look for mushrooms, but there were different tractors I more closely associate with that and other activities. A couple days ago I went back down to the farm to further dig through my buried emotions, and as I looked around at the other tractors, I realized how many more memories each of them entailed. Walking past them, I could see myself in many of the same scenarios, standing on a step, leaning against a tire well or sitting by the window inside the cab of a tractor. Perhaps I was scanning the ground for arrowheads, or maybe I was holding on for dear life as we bounced over the rugged terrain. Once I was old enough, I drove the tractors myself, but those memories are secondary to the ones I have as a passenger. The ones being near my dad or grandpa as the wind blew through our hair and the smell of dirt rose to meet our senses.

I’ve watched my fair share of near-death experiences in recent years. Various people describing what it was like to die and cross over before coming back. I’ve watched dozens of these accounts, if not well over a hundred. They aren’t all the same, but a disproportionate amount of them have similar aspects and commonalities. Too many to dismiss. Often the individual talks about how there was no time outside of life on earth. That isn’t a novel concept. I’ve heard many people over the years muse about how time is a human construct. What’s different in this instance is the way these people talk about it as a personal experience and how closely their descriptions resemble each other. How everything happens simultaneously and instantly. The past, the present and the future all at once. All that matters is the moment.

Sometimes when I find myself getting anxious or angry, I try to remember and apply this concept. All that matters is this moment. If I can control my emotions now, I’ve reconciled the past, the present and the future. At least for that moment…and the moment is forever.

What does this method of self-control have to do with childhood memories? I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. But in my unnecessarily busy brain, the connection between the two is the importance of a moment. The moment. I would give a lot to go back to those moments on the back of a tractor with my dad or grandpa. To simply stand on that thin metal bar as we bounced over the broken corn stalks on an otherwise melancholy autumn day in rural Indiana. It doesn’t matter where we are going or what we are doing. Just that I’m there.

Certainly there are moments we don’t want to revisit or be stuck in. Moments that we might equate to hell on earth, emotionally or physically. But another reoccurring sentiment in these NDE’s (Near Death Experiences) that I watch and listen to is an acquired knowledge that everything is purposeful, and often times intentional. People with horrific experiences and pain up to the point of their death come back with an understanding of its place in their life. Astonishingly, and without hesitation, they claim they wouldn’t change any of the prior things they had gone through. People that were abused, assaulted, lost loved ones, and in some cases, claim to have never felt even an ounce of love. I try to remember that as well when I’m overcome with a negative emotion or beside myself.

The farm looks a lot different these days. The H still sits with most of the other tractors that have been there for decades, but where once old barns and grain bins rose up, the landscape lays out unobstructed. The mighty limbs that once held a tree house are remembered by fewer people with every passing year, and there is no trace of the livestock that once roamed the property. For someone whose developmental years those things factored heavily into, it’s almost too overwhelming to dwell on, let alone linger in. We all have such things in our past, but they were never meant to be permanent. Purposeful, perhaps, but never permanent. Memories and the moments that made them are the vehicles by which we move forward.

Generally, when I’m trying to gain control of my emotions, it’s behind the wheel of a car. I drive a lot, and time is always of the essence. As an Uber driver my livelihood depends on it. Inevitably, as someone cuts me off, holds traffic up as the light turns green because they are on their phone or drives well below the speed limit because they are gawking at everything around them, I’ll find myself death gripping the steering wheel and taking deep breaths to get me through to the next moment. Suddenly, the smell of dirt will invade my senses and the wind will blow through my hair on an otherwise melancholy autumn day in rural Indiana. The past, the present and the future all at once.

The UBeerOsopher

And now…a haiku:

armed with a moment

nothing more and nothing less

i conquer each day

“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards. Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced.” ~ Soren Kierkegaard

6 notes · View notes

nefastum · 1 year

Note

Head canons for Older sibling! Guts, Casca, and Griffith to Younger sister (Y/N)?

Ah hello there, Anon ♡ So, this is for how'd they would interact/behave with a younger sister, correct? Apologies that these are more like little story summaries than hcs like, "he'd teach you to leaf whistle" or something haha I got carried away and pictured it as a manga sequence ^ ^;;

First up, Griffith:

Griffith and (y/n) grew up in the back alleys of the city you were born to, hidden in the shadow of a grand castle. One day, a young (y/n) pointed out the pretty birdies flying up and over the castle walls, right up to its spires. Griffith's eyes were wide like saucers. He promised you then that one day he'd become a king, and the two of you wouldn't have to stare up at it any longer. Wouldn't have to scrape around for food or shelter any longer. You would soar up to the heights those hawks had and reach the castle, too. He believed he would make the fairytale a reality, and because he believed so did you. He was always a resourceful older brother-- and silly, too. He had a way of making you laugh and lifting you up whenever you felt down. Always finding ways of supporting you and gathering resources to propel his dream forward. He had a knack for getting ahead and pulling people to his side. It wasn’t long before your world was not just the two of you anymore. Eventually, he and you would set off on the trail towards his dream together and form the Band of the Hawk with the ragtag team of men who'd chosen to believe in him. It was dangerous work, and Griffith tried his best to keep you from seeing the worst of it. Young ladies, much less his precious little sister, need not endure the dreadful truth of men's battles and bloodshed. But, in the end, he knew he could not keep it from reaching you forever, so he sought to teach you to defend yourself instead. The world would be cruel, but as long as you had something to protect and a sword to do it, the two of you could reach heights never dreamed as commoners. Someday, your charming, supportive, and clever brother was going to be a king. You knew it with all your heart. And for each battle won, and each honor earned, he was right there beside you. Leading the way towards a better future for both of you.

Guts:

You and Guts never knew if you had the same mother and father or not, but it didn't matter to him. What mattered was making sure that he survived to keep you safe from the vile, evil things that humans could do to one another. Early life was hard, and Guts suffered the brunt of it to keep you safe. But, neglect by the mercenary leader who you both considered a father ate away at both of your childhoods. Eventually, something would happen late into the night that changed your big brother forever. And barely understanding what was happening, suddenly it was just you two on your own. It didn't matter where you went or what for, Guts was always able to keep you safe by the skin of his teeth. No matter what it took, he'd be the sword and shield for both of you. That's just the kind of big brother he was. He was a tough guy, but his heart was molten gold. You'd follow him from war camp to war camp, acting as a sort of squire for him while he scraped earnings together to support you both. He didn't want you fighting battles with him, though. He prodded you and said it was because you were too scrawny and weak and would just get in his way or get killed. But, in reality, he didn't want to lose you. You were the one good thing life had given him, and he'd fight tooth and nail to hold on. Eventually, you both found stability in a new mercenary band called the Band of the Hawk. Perhaps here, Guts would finally let others besides you in, and you wouldn't have to worry about him fighting every battle on his own.

Casca:

You and Casca were always close. Helping each other in the fields and attending to house chores at each other's side. When Casca received an offer to go work for a nobleman, you both wept, knowing you may never see each other again. Deciding not to lose your beloved older sister, you stowed away in a box on the nobleman's carriage to go with her. At some point, you could hear her screaming, cries coming from outside when the carriage stopped. The man had attacked her. That's all she would say later on when you were freed from the box and ran to check on her. Another man, or rather boy, who had been the one to save her, had instantly caught her attention and admiration. She would hold you close and beg that he allowed the two of you to go with him, promising you'd both learn to be of use. From that day forward, it felt like old times again. Only instead of plowing fields, you were sword training or running drills. Casca was still your best friend and always would be. She looked after you like a mother, laughed with you like a sister, and bled with you like a comrade. Both of you fought hard for Griffith, and Casca was as enamored with him as always. It didn't matter to you, though. As long as you two could stay together, you would follow Griffith's band wherever it took you.

Thank you for the lovely ask, love ♡ I must admit this was fun, even if it isn't a typical list of hcs hehe ^ ^; My mind works in silly ways, I'm afraid ~ I hope this will suffice 🙏💕

#berserk #griffith #casca #guts berserk #fluffy sibling goodness #cw childhood trauma #cw csa mention #my grammar is abysmal and my phone doesnt help forgive me

17 notes · View notes

my-sweet-vxlentine · 8 months

Text

Knighting Day

Not proofread lol, there's gonna be a lot of mistakes

It was an early spring morning in the earth kingdom. The land was still and the sky was clear with the exception of a couple cumulus clouds. it had rained the night before, so the smell of petrichor was still lingering in the air.

It was Knighting Day.

After years of training, Jude would finally receive his knighthood. He could hardly contain his excitement as he had wanted this ever since he stepped foot into the capital city of the kingdom, ever since…the incident. Nobility, aristocracy, and gentry come far and wide to see their majesty's newest knights swear on their lives to protect the monarch and serve the kingdom. Jude was a special case, for he was to go last because of his history of leading the army (still as a recruit) into battle and emerging victorious every single time. He's to be given special honors, and as soon as he graduates from recruitment to knighthood, he will be promoted to a general in their majesty's army.

Jude woke up in the wee hours of the morning and stayed in bed till they heard the first bells of the day signaling for the city to wake from its slumber. They rushed out of bed and onto the cobblestone floors of the castle to start brushing his chin length, wavy, black hair. He donned his special armored uniform that was a gift from the monarch themself. He polished his boots and frog lipped helmet which was only worn for ceremonial purposes as it had a narrow field of vision.

They were giddy with excitement and had so many butterflies in their stomach they could hardly eat. His life was about to change forever, in more ways than one.

The sky kingdom and the earth kingdom did not get along. One could go as far to even call them enemies. But personal feelings were always pushed aside on special occasions such as Knighting Day. The princesses Cassiopeia and Aurora both went along with their father, the king, down in a gilded carriage pulled by pegasi to the earth kingdom to celebrate the knightings. It was a big deal in every kingdom for knights to graduate. Knighting day didn't happen very often in the sky kingdom because the sky kingdom has no interest whatsoever to war with any land walkers. They simply thought that they were better than land walkers.

Cassiopeia thought it was silly to arrive in a carriage from the sky when they could just fly down. Every cloud walker did have wings, so why couldn't they fly down? She had asked her father about it and he always said “We are royalty, there's no need to do something as common as flying down.” She thinks he does it to make himself look better to other people.

The ceremony started at 1 pm, and the cloudwalker family wanted to make an entrance so they arrived around 12:30 because everyone was already going to be in their assigned seating. Being the only other royal family, the cloudwalkers were placed relatively close to Monarch Salem and near the kneeling cushion. The knighting ceremony had dragged on for about 2 hours until a certain ravenette caught the princess’ attention.

“Jude, the Brave!” called the announcer. Everyone in the room looked up at the last person to be knighted. Cassiopeia couldn't help but stare at this stranger’s dark colored eyes, and the way the sun emblem on his helmet shone underneath the light of the large chandelier. His soft looking wavy, black hair framed their angelic face perfectly. Ohhh, dear Cassiopeia was falling in love, with a land walker no less.

Jude was petrified. All these people staring at them, he didn't know where to look so he just stared into the eyes of the monarch as he walked down the aisle and kneeled on the cushion, ready to vow his life to the monarch.

“Jude, the Brave, do you vow to protect your monarch for as long as you shall live?” asked Monarch Salem. “I do,” he replied. Jude had caught the eyes of Cassiopeia and she wiggled her eyebrows at the poor knight who was already trying not to keel over, Jude was so embarrassed that he only caught the last couple of words Monarch Salem had asked of him. “... and protect your fellow troops?” Jude swallowed the lump in his throat and shakily gave his reply of “I do.”

“May you serve your kingdom well and may good fortune be ever on your side.” put forth Monarch Salem as they used the flat edge of Jude's own sword to knight him.

Cassiopeia animatedly clapped for Jude as he walked back down the aisle, off to the reception. She was going to have to meet him

#my writing #my ocs #jude the brave #princess cassiopeia #monarch salem

2 notes · View notes

heretherebedork · 1 year

Note

Do you know something more about the reality of what follows after ordaining? Like I unfortunately have no idea about it and at first I thought it would mean Syn and Nuer won't be able to continue their relationship but that's probably not the case? Like... can even Syn have sex w Nuer? Isn't that against his beliefs? Like I truly do not know anything about it, I'm just wondering.

My entire knowledge of this is from the subplot of it in TT2. Which is to say... I know very, very little but I know it does not end a sexual relationship.

My understanding, which is surface level at best and comes from fiction and reading here... if that it is typically a temporary thing that is done as a point of bringing honor to the family.

Thus, it can be done and they would have to avoid sex for a period of time but not forever. I did just google it and it appears to vary from a week to a month depending on the person and can be longer, was traditionally longer, but is definitely not forever. (Traditionally three months and in a certain season but has been adjusted for the modern lifestyle.

So this is not a forever thing. It is a temporary choice that shows his religious devotion, gratitude to his parents and his wish to learn more about Buddhism.

Again, this is from TT2, five seconds of googling and the first article I read. SO. YOU KNOW. Please don't rely on me. I am just a Jewish guy from Chicago.

But everything I have seen and read indicates that this is a temporary choice that is used to show his devotion and gratitude and has nothing to do with a permanent choice or refraining forever.

My research says: (Link to The Thailand Foundation)

Buddhism is an integral part of Thai culture. Thais believe that when a man turns 20, he should be ordained and enter a monastery for a period of time to study dharma, the teachings of the Lord Buddha. This tradition is considered to be a great act of religious service as well as a significant merit making occasion for the ordained’s family. It is a way for Thai men to express gratitude to their parents for raising and nurturing them. The ordination ceremony or Buat Nak (บวชนาค) in Thai language is, therefore, a very important rite of passage for Thai males.

In the past, Buddhist men generally stayed in the monkhood for three months during Khao Phansa (เข้าพรรษา), the Buddhist Lent period, which coincides with the rainy season. In ancient times, monks roamed everywhere to teach dharma. As they waded through rice fields in the rainy season, they often trampled on the commoners’ precious rice stalks by accident. Lord Buddha, therefore, ordered the monks to halt their pilgrimages during the rainy season. Instead, they were told to remain within their monasteries, studying and practicing dharma. This was also, of course, a good time for young men to be ordained to learn the teachings of the religion.

The chaotic lifestyle of today does not allow people to leave the worldly life behind for three months. The tradition has therefore changed. The monkhood period is shortened and varies from one week to 15 days or one month, depending on the time the person has available. Today too, ordination can be done at any time of the year, not only at the beginning of the rainy season.

Despite the shorter monkhood period, the ordination ceremony remains important. Known as Buat Nak, the ceremony involves many rituals, beliefs, and traditions.

So... I am not an expert. But there's what I know/found.

#not an expert #i don't even play one on the internet #cutie pie 2 #synnuer #if anyone is more of an expert feel free to add on!

16 notes · View notes

fifteenleads · 10 months

Text

where happiness lies

Bungou Stray Dogs | Miyazawa Kenji | Pre-canon | Character Study

No one in the Armed Detective Agency knows about Kenji’s coconut plantation.

Its existence is a puzzlement to the few who’ve heard of it in passing, shaking their heads and shrugging their shoulders at the nigh-impossible endeavor of growing tropical plants in temperate, volcanic soil— out in the nowhere of Ihatovo, no less. Yet it still grows and thrives, a couple dozen tall trees with long palm branches that bow to the weight of the sweet, white fruit.

To the even fewer who know of it, it’s a miracle that stands the test of time and a memento of a friendship that lives forever.

Kenji had never presumed himself more than an applauding audience to this brotherhood of old, yet bore witness to it he has, and the sacred duty of honoring its legacy has fallen on his young shoulders. It is a task he willingly undertakes with delight and reverence, every minute in the sun and every bead of trickling sweat a testament to this undying labor of love.

When night falls, he rests under the shade of the biggest tree, losing himself in pleasant musings not unlike the gentle swaying of the low-lying branches. The golden yellow flowers will be bearing fruit soon, and there will again be a plentiful harvest. This humble patch of sloped land has seen its fair share of disasters since its soil was first tilled, yet the trees grow back again the next spring, resilient as the Mother Nature that had warmly accepted them.

A fond smile crosses Kenji’s lips at the thought. “It’s just as you said, Mister Juan.”

They had met four summers ago, when the rice paddies were still young and green and everything was still right with the world. During those days, every able-bodied villager would rise at dawn, share breakfast over tea, and pray together for a good harvest before setting off to the fields. Sometimes the women would bake bread, and everyone would savor the soft, chewy treat with fresh milk and boiled eggs, or pack it in their lunches instead so they wouldn't be late for the sunrise.

Kenji also helped out however he could, a mere youth of ten years already a powerhouse with his uncanny strength of ten men. Back then, he had no concept of the wide world beyond the borders of his small village, where the only truths were the circle of life, the changing of seasons, and the sense of common identity and belonging to which everyone ascribed.

He had been guiding a small herd of cattle across the shallow riverbank, staying with the youngest calf that had lagged behind due to a prior hind leg injury it sustained at birth. “Just a little more,” he coaxed the animal, taking a few steps forward before motioning it to do the same. Patience is a good thing, Mother says, so no one ever gets left behind.

They were almost at the other side when a worn, bloodied scarf got caught in his leg. Kenji regarded it with concern, wondering if anyone from upstream had gotten hurt while crossing the river themselves. He untangled the wet cloth and wrung it dry, then left his herd to go check the situation for himself, just for a little while.

From far away, he spied an old man beside an overturned cart of fruit, nursing what seemed to be an injured ankle by the riverside. Immediately he made his way through the rocky path, climbing over some of the larger boulders as he did. “Hello, Sir! Do you need help?”

The old man grunted in response, slowly craning his neck in Kenji’s direction. “Never mind me! Can ya fix my cart an’ put back the coconuts innit? There should be thirty of ‘em.” He then pointed with his nose and lips towards the mess of plywood and round green fruit, some of which had begun to roll downstream towards the river.

“Got it!” Kenji grinned, then quickly caught up to the couple of runaway fruit, scooping them up one at a time with his free arm before they got swept away by the current. He then set them down by the old man’s feet before working on the wooden cart. It wasn’t too badly damaged, all things considered, save for a side wheel that had come loose after the impact. Most of the fruit that had been trapped underneath were likewise still fine, sustaining only light scratches on the outside thanks to their sturdy wooden husks.

“... Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Kenji triumphantly called out as he returned the last of the coconuts into the cart. Beside him, the old man sighed in relief, hobbling towards his restored fruit cart on his injured leg before falling forward into Kenji’s arms. “Please don’t force yourself, Sir!”

“Ah, ‘s fine,” the old man mumbled, waving him off and reaching for the handles to use as a support to right himself. “‘Twas a close one. Thank you, boy.”

“You’re welcome! You’re also headed this way, right?” Kenji then went over to the front side of the cart, lifting it up only ever-so-slightly, enough to help the old man push it along the riverbank. “Us men of the field are always proud to pull our own weight,” his own grandfather had once said, even after already injuring his back multiple times during past harvests.

The old man bared a toothless smile at him in silent gratitude. “Aye, boy. Let’s go there.”

“Say, you’re not from around here, are you?” Kenji asked between mouthfuls of coconut meat, watching intently as the old man slurped down the clear juice like he would a bowl of cool water. The fruit was perfectly ripe, with just the right amount of freshness and sweetness that hit the spot for parched throats and sore muscles on a hot summer afternoon.

They had taken up shade under a nearby cherry tree overlooking the rice fields while the small herd of cattle grazed nearby. The green stalks had almost reached their full height, though they had yet to begin to flower. The young farm hands still remain under the sun to tend to them; now is the most crucial time to ensure a good harvest.

“Hmm. I live along the border on the other side of the village, actually,” the old man answered thoughtfully, setting down his emptied coconut husk and wiping the juice that had dribbled down his chin. “I jus’ don’t come down the mountain often. Been busy growin’ these little ‘uns, ya see.” He then gestured towards his cart sitting nearby, the coconuts in it seeming to glow in response as they basked in the afternoon sunlight filtered by the yellow-green leaves.

“—Though, methinks that wasn’t the answer ya were lookin’ for, huh.” He then propped his elbows over his crossed legs and laced his bony fingers while staring intently. The sudden seriousness with which he said this line took Kenji by surprise, and he likewise set down his half-eaten coconut on his lap, rubbing his index finger along the rough edge of the husk along which it had been cut in half.

“Yer called Kenji, right?” He asked gruffly, doing the lip-pointing thing again. “Listen carefully, boy. This probably the first an’ last time you’ll hear it.”

Kenji gulped audibly at this, nodding and leaning in to hear more. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” There was that toothless smile again. “Name’s Juan. I grow coconuts. And I wasn’t born here, no.”

Ihatovo, he said. And he sent a photograph of him with coconut trees. Can you believe it? Grew ‘em bukos all by himself! There was no mistakin’ it, I would know those bright eyes anywhere, despite everything else of ‘im grown old an’ all wrinkled up.

“So I packed my bags and moved here— all the way to Japan, to Ihatovo. And we hugged when we met, cried many, many tears ‘til they all be dried an’ gone. I couldn’t believe it. My best friend was alive. My best friend was here. And we were together again.

“Livin’ here was like a different world altogether. Didn’t know no Nippongo an’ all. But I was excited. It was like school all over again, and I was a young boy all over again. Kampanito felt the same. He and I would talk about all sorts o’ things, from our good ol’ school days to grown-up things. He did become a doctor, but only for a while. He didn’t want to talk ‘bout what happened after that, though. It didn’t matter anymore, I said. All that mattered was that I was with my friend again, ya know? And he said yes.

“We split a coconut between us for our first dinner together, a fruit he grew an’ harvested himself. Can you believe it, Juan? He said. This small patch of foreign soil on a sloped hill managed ta bear fruit that reminds us of home. It’s amazing! Still don’t know how it happened. It must be a miracle.

“I agreed with him with tears in my eyes. An’ the North Star shone brightly over us, remindin’ us that no matter where we are, or however long has passed, wherever we are happy is home. ‘Tis true even now, boy. Here— Ihatovo— is home.”

Kenji didn’t realize that tears had fallen from his eyes until Mister Juan gently wiped them with his thumb. “Ah, I’m sorry,” he stammered as he pulled back in surprise. He really enjoyed hearing the old man talk about his life, both heartwarming and heartrending at the same time. Moreover, he found himself identifying with him a lot more than he had expected.

“Nah, ‘s all good,” Mister Juan only laughed heartily, grabbing the other coconut he had set aside and cracking it open in one fell swoop. “Here, have some more buko.” Kenji accepted the proffered fruit, appreciating its weight in his hands. He bit off a small part of the thinned-out fruit on the top, before sipping the juice in it. For some reason it tasted a little different now— of youth and friendship. Of life, love, and of home.

“This is really delicious, Sir,” Kenji said after finishing off the rest of the fruit.

“‘Course it is,” Mister Juan bragged. “I grew it myself.”

It was already sunset by the time they finished talking and eating, and it was time to go home. Kenji offered his hand to Juan once more, leading him back to his cart. “Are you sure you don’t need me to carry you back?”

“Bah, us men of the field can pull our own weight ‘round here. I’ll be fine,” Mister Juan waved him off dismissively, despite limping on his good leg. “You go home, boy. Yer mom’s gonna scold ya if the cattle ain’t home by sundown, yeah?”

Kenji chuckled to himself at that; he was absolutely right, of course. “Can we meet again tomorrow afternoon? There’s a lot of things I’d like to ask you.”

Mister Juan only bared a toothless grin in response. “Well, who knows?”

No one in the Armed Detective Agency knows about Kenji’s coconut plantation.

It has already been four years since Mister Juan had passed, and apparently eight years since Kampanito had before him. Even the village elders had found Mister Juan’s last will strange, indeed: a single coconut fruit, completely emptied out except for the seed inside it. So Kenji planted it, just as Mister Juan had taught him to, dutifully tended to it, watched it grow alongside the others, and harvested its fruit every year. And just like that, the circle of life continued amidst the change of seasons, and the buko fruits remained to be part of him— of Ihatovo.

He returns to Yokohama today, having tended to the flowering trees on the small patch of sloped land after paying his respects to his friend. Everyone is surprised at the haul of tropical fruit stacked on his desk, with Ranpo begging Mister Fukuzawa to slice one up for him with his blade. Kunikida tries to get everyone to settle down while preparing the kitchen for the surprise afternoon refreshment.

“Mmm, I must say, this goes perfectly well as a cocktail,” Yosano remarks while sipping the juice directly from the fruit with a straw. “Something light for a summer afternoon, perhaps.”

“You drink too much,” Tanizaki grumbles from beside her, while Naomi adds condensed milk to her bowl of shredded coconut. “And that’s way too much sugar already!” As if in response, Kyouka holds out her bowl to Naomi, as well, who gladly drizzles more milk into it.

Kenji watches the daily squabble unfold with much amusement. He has to admit, their motley bunch of misfits work really well together, despite all the odds. It has barely been a year since he has joined the Agency, but he already feels comfortable with everyone. He has always made friends easily, after all, whether within his village or outside of it.

He walks over to the window overlooking the street, and offers Atsushi an opened-up fruit, a small metal spoon in it. “Where’s Dazai?”

“Dazai will be back in the evening, I think,” Atsushi says, gratefully accepting the fruit. “Said he had something to take care of earlier.” His grip on the fruit tightens as he looks downcast. “Truth be told, I can’t help but worry about him sometimes, especially when he takes off so suddenly like that.”

“Hmm.” Kenji sets down his coconut on the desk and leans back on the windowsill, feeling the draft of warm wind blow into his hair. “Dazai will be all right. He probably just needs a little thinking space for himself is all. Don’t we all?”

“... I guess you’re right.” Atsushi carves out a small portion of fruit for himself. “I mean, we all consider this place home, one way or another.”

“Yup, that we do,” Kenji agrees. “No matter where we are, or however long has passed, wherever we are happy is home.”

Just as Mister Juan said.

“Eh, did you say something? I don’t think I caught that,” Atsushi suddenly asks. For some reason, everyone else turns to Kenji, too, probably expecting some form of explanation, as well.

He merely laughs at that. “Oh, it’s all right. Just a long story, if you all want to hear it.”

END

Some references used in the story: 1. Night on the Galactic Railroad by (IRL) Miyazawa Kenji 2. The legend of Daragang Magayon (Filipino folk story)

Dedicated to my friends at the Buko Stray Dogs Discord server. Miss you all!

#bungou stray dogs #bsd fanfic #miyazawa kenji

2 notes · View notes

rabbitcruiser · 1 year

Photo

On April 16, 2002, Senator Arlen Specter (PA) introduced a version of the “Flight 93 National Memorial Act” in the Senate.

5 notes · View notes

donnabroadway · 4 months

Text

Anointed but not yet appointed

On September 8, 2022, at 73 years old and after 53 years after being designated the heir to the British throne, Charles, Prince of Wales, became King Charles III. He now holds the honor of becoming the oldest person to accede to the British throne, after having been the longest-serving heir apparent and Prince of Wales in British history. There has to be a special award, some sort of sainthood, or at least a university course taught in recognition of King Charles III patience because 53 years to be waiting for your birthright is a long time and, let's be real, some lesser people may have enacted a Shakespearean tragedy to speed up the process to get what they believe is legally theirs, and even though there were well rumored clashes about modernizing the monarchy between the Queen and the Prince of Wales but at least publicly, Charles knew his role and respected his mother as the queen and his queen, even though at some point, I'm sure he had to wonder if she was going to be the first person to actually obtain physical immortality.

Being patient and staying focused for more than half a century is no easy feat, and if the Prince of Wales wanted, he could have acted as a commoner with the excuse of being young and having time before he actually needed to act like a king and be kingly, but he didn't, he respected his future role. He was anointed to be king at a young age, from birth really, but he did not know when he would actually become king, as life and people are unpredictable. I am also sure, because times change, people don't, that more than one person tried to per pressure him into acting in a way that was unbecoming of the future king because one picture of a drunk and stumbling king could be life changing, at least monetarily and because those pictures don't exist, I will assume that he was always mindful of his duties and future position and how it will affect the monarchy, which was also his family. Imagine having the unique privilege of disappointing the queen and your mother at the same time. Similar to how Queen Elizabeth was then Prince Charles mother, queen, and appointer, God is our father, king, and appointer of our destiny's. Why disappoint him in hopes of gaining the favor of the world, which will always be fleeting, like the wind and short lived.

The world and its desires pass away, but whoever does the will of God lives forever. blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.~ 1 John 2: 17.

As a boy, David was anointed king by Nathan and went back to the field to tend to his sheep. It was 18 years between the time young Jesus taught in the synagogue to when his ministry officially started and even then his appointed earthly time was only three years. Who knows how long Noah built the ark without evidence of rain. Sarah and Abraham waited many years, well into their old age, before Isaac, the child of promise, was finally born. God told them he would move in their lives and they would do something great and powerful but didn't say when, or even how. I feel like when people get anointed but not yet appointed, they do one of three things, either prepare themselves for what God has called them to, they try to rush or alter what God has called them to, or they go out in the world to try to have a testimony, if you know what I mean. Just like when Sarah tried to help God bring the promised child by using her servant Hagar as a surrogate and created a big mess, that not even Abraham wanted to touch, and caused a conflict that is still ongoing onto this day. God used Ishmael as a permissive part of Abraham's destiny but it was messy and still is. Look at what is happening in Israel. It is literally the descendants of Ishmael and Isaac fighting, tens of thousands of years after the original players went back to be dust of the earth.

Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, ~Ephesians 5:15

Do not get drunk on wine, which leads to debauchery. Instead, be filled with the Spirit~ Ephesians 5:18

I do not call out Sarah or anyone else in the bible for the inability to wait and trust in God's timing because I have been all three. I have tried throwing it back, knocking it back, and taking things into my own hands and wondering why there is so much turmoil and conflict happening because that is not what I've been called to do and trying to fit into a place where I am not called, at least long term has been a big cause of conflict in my life. Have you ever seen someone try to fit in and you can see it is not them or even worse, watching someone you know is better than what they are pretending to be because they don't want to stand out in the way God has created them to, that was me. In todays day and age, being relatable or outrageous, may be one of the things that can help a person go viral and obtain internet fame and fortune but why have the testimony of throwing it back, getting sloppy drunk, and sleeping around, when you don't have to, especially when it is not who you are at your core. Having a testimony is great but why put yourself through the stress of the permissive will when you don't have to? Why struggle with things that you do not have to and make your life harder in a way that it doesn't have to be because you want to fit in? I have always been anointed and set apart but I didn't want to be so I tried to fit in and thank goodness my stint with alcohol, the club, and premarital sex when I was called to wait until marriage didn't last long and I got out with no side effects, just a small testimony but what if I got caught up because I wanted to be like everyone else instead of acting in my anointing and future appointment.

Taste and see that the Lord is good;~ Psalms 34:8

I know a lot of people who want to wait until they are older to do what God called them to do and be who God called them to be because they don't want to miss something. They want to wait until they are considered too old to do the things the world considers cool because who wants to be seen as the old head auntie in the club when they can just pivot to the church and God doesn't want that. He doesn't want to be the placeholder you finally marry after you get too old and your options run out and you're left with gold diggers and opportunists. God wants to be the one you look at and immediately want to marry. God is not your long suffering side chick. Choose God today.

0 notes

aliterarydumpsterfire · 1 year

Text

The Kingdom's Fate

It was late in the day when the Companions gathered in the Hall to mark the passing of another somber Summoner’s Eve. Each had their own stories, but it was in silence they filed through guild, only the clink of battered armor to tell their tales.

With bowed heads they murmured prayers to the gods for blessings, opportunities to prove themselves, and a chance to end the reign of the dragon king. One day… one day! It was a promise that fell from every warrior’s lips and a prayer over every babe. Forty six years of the dragon king’s rule had left the land scorched and the stables bare. The people of Fairen despaired that it may never know the sight of a green countryside, or cattle in their pastures.

On this day, like so many anniversaries of Summoner’s Eve past, the brave companions mourned their kingdom’s future. It would start with a solemn prayer, followed by an offering of leafy greens to the gods….

A thud at the far entrance interrupted them, light spilling into the establishment as the huge oak doors swung open. The dying streaks of ripe currant in the sky silhouetted an expectant figure at the far end of the lodge.

The occupants paid the visitor no mind-- every adventurer from here to Hare’s Peak thought they were the first to arrive on the dusk of Summoner’s Eve, just like the mage Myrgan in tales of old. Only forever more the Companions of Everlasting Courage knew the truth.

The kingdom of Fairen would never again be free. A thousand companions and mages had died at the hands of the immortal dragon king. There was nothing left but to drink, and remember the days of glory, when most were just squires to the brave souls who proved the truth of the kingdom’s fate.

Hugor the Hale was one such former squire, now a man broad of belly and chest and a gray head taller than any Companion still alive. He sat at the end of the long table, whisking a whetstone down a blade the size of his palm. It was a blade of great sentimental value to him, and despite the hopeful days of glory well behind him, he took care to sharpen it each day. Sir Sven the Stirring would be proud. It was the least Hugor could do. He was the last in a long line of king-blessed knights to bear the blade.

The visitor’s over-long pause in the doorway continued for a moment more, cleared throat echoing through the hall. It was duly ignored. Travellers were common in the Guild District; they’d find their way out on their own, or they were shown out.

It wasn’t until the newcomer approached Hugor that he bothered to pause his task. A woman in boiled leather glared at him, a dark braid thrown over one shoulder, a bandoleer stocked with vials slung across her front. She seemed even shorter than she had in her ‘grand entrance’ to the hall, barely reaching the height of his stooped shoulders, and he was sitting down. She bore a resemblance that seemed awful familiar, but Hugor couldn’t place his finger on why and thought nothing more of it, and bent to his task once more.

“Heard you needed a mage.” Her voice carried a bellyful of pride, like so many before her.

Hugor scoffed. “The guild for ninnies and womenfolk meets in the warrens.” He began to turn back to his whetstone, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure they are just dying for another of your kind.”

She spat, green-tinged saliva arcing to land on the man’s breastplate. It smelled… minty.

Hugor looked down, disgusted by the spittle slipping down his armor. Tiny flecks of green floated in the liquid, landing in loud drips on the stone floor.

“Uncommonly rude.” He wiped the spit away with a sleeve. “I will forgive the impertinence if you leave my guild this instant.”

The girl made no such move, instead fishing into her belt pouch for more mint before folding her arms in defiance. “You fool! I have come to lend strength and honor to your cause!”

Hugor barked a laugh. “Strength? And honor? You could’ve been mistaken for a mouse in a potato field. Go home, little mouse. The Age of Courage is over. The Foretold never revealed himself. Summoner’s Eve is just another day. ”

The little mage’s eyebrows slammed together in her fury. “My name is Frynn of Premly, Frynn the Foretold! I am here to show you the error of your despair, Hugor the Hale!” She thrust her arms out, baring dark arcane tattoos on umber flesh. They seemed to writhe of their own accord in the candlelight like a mess of serpents in a pit.

Hugor sat up. The lost resemblance and distinct marks now demanded further thought. Some old geezer before the fall of the rightful king had come knocking on the guild’s doors, nailed some convoluted drawings and a prophecy to the doors. Uncommonly rude wizard, too. Called them all fat and slovenly and downright unheroic.

Finally some interest dawned in him. “Where’d you get those?”

“I am the Foretold, and I am here to lead this fat and slovenly Guild to glory once more.”

At such a loud and rude proclamation a number of adventurers stood, their benches scraping away from the table in indignation. Hugor raised a hand to quiet them.

“I don’t care if you’re my mother’s dull daughter, insulting the guild’s state of fitness will not earn you friends, mage.”

“You blind buffoon! I told you, my name is--”

“Uncommonly rude. Nealan, Kayn, would you do the honors?” The two Companions came forward, nearly as portly and grizzled as Hugor himself. Nealan the Noble and Kayn the Knightly saluted him. With an energy they’d not shown since their last near-campaign, the two warriors bundled a shrieking tiny mage back to the doors from whence she came, and ejected her into the street. A thundering boom followed as they barred the door from any similar incursions. The rest of the warriors gathered ‘round them, cheering and congratulating Hugor and their mates for their swift actions.

And so it was that on Summoner’s Eve, forty six years after the fall of the rightful king, that the last in the line of true royalty, and only soul to bear the marks of the prophesied Foretold, was ejected from the distinguished hall of the Companions of Everlasting Courage.

Alas, the kingdom was doomed. But at least it still had standards for manners.

#flash fiction #flashfic #fantasy flash

0 notes

chrysanthemum-and-co · 2 years

Text

that tiktok trend where you show yourself with your best friend through the years, and the oldest ones are the most impressive, made me sad.

I had a best friend for a very long time. Sixteen years.

It wasn't a questioned thing. Ever since we were one it had been so; I was hers and she was mine. I loved her with my whole being and beyond.

We lived in different states, and we only saw one another a few times a year, so it felt more special. It also felt more lonely, considering I didn't really have any friends at my school.

We had a falling out when we were seventeen. I was going through a hard time and relying on her, and when she wasn't there for me I tried to talk to her about it. In response she lashed out, telling all of our mutual friends that this was the final straw, my depending on her. According to what she was telling everyone, we had been experiencing deep rooted issues for five years. I still wonder what they are, she refused to tell me.

She unfollowed me on instagram this summer, a year after we stopped speaking. I was in her hometown to see family and didn't reach out to her, and apparently that was the last straw. I'll never really know why though. When I think about it I imagine her petty and aloof, the way that I usually picture her now.

In hindsight our friendship was not all that great as we got older. She would constantly make comments around other people putting me down (especially around boys), and if I got upset I was sensitive and dramatic. I was no doubt a loud person, but while my other friends saw me as funny and blunt, to her I was irritating and abrasive. It wasn't an even friendship, I always felt inferior to her in terms of appearance and trends, and the latter part of our friendship felt like a giant game of catch up. Hindsight is 20/20 and in the rearview mirror there was no level playing field.

I miss the way I saw her without the knowledge I have now of our fallout. I wish I could still look back and smile. I don't necessarily miss being her friend, but oh how I miss knowing her. I'd almost forgotten what it was to miss her, something I was so familiar with when I was younger and anxiously waiting for the next visit. There's so much to remember that I still hold, and have nothing to do with.

I'll always know her birthday. I'm not sure it'll ever pass by without my chest aching. All of her friends know the two small dogs she has now, but I know her first dog, her yellow lab named Daisy. I remember the day Daisy died, just an eight year old listening to her best friend cry through a landline phone. We always watched Another Cinderella Story together, the one with Selena Gomez. I've seen that movie probably 30 times, never without her. In second or third grade she was assigned an essay about her best friend. She wrote it and then mailed it to me, and I kept it in a special decorated box under my dresser and read it when I was sad. How special it was to know how much I was loved.

I wonder about her younger sisters, if they hate me now. I remember admiring her mom so deeply until the day she texted my mom bad things about me. I didn't know she was capable of saying that about a girl who had her contact name set as 'Second Mom".

It is impossible not to grieve for a version of me as close to a year ago who thought that this girl would be in my life forever, my maid of honor. It is even more impossible not to ache for elementary school me, telling myself it didn't matter that I spent lunch in the library because I had that one very special friend. The version of me that saved every pair of matching pajamas we wore at our special sleepovers. Thirteen year old me, discovering that some clothes were cool and some were not. Fourteen year old me, given the silent treatment for talking to a boy I didn't know she liked and then apologizing so she'd speak to me. Sixteen year old me, wondering if we had all that much in common after all but brushing it off because, after all, she was my best friend.

I don't think I'll ever have a best friend like that again. I love my friends, and in them I've found kindred minds, deep emotional connections, and a lifetime of joy. None of this is comparable to your first ever sleepover in matching tinkerbell pajamas eating chocolate chip pancakes for dinner, feeling truly that all is right with the world. There is a perfect lyric for this feeling written by Girlpool, in the only song of theirs I have ever enjoyed.

"I just miss how it felt standing next to you, wearing matching dresses before the world was big"

1 note · View note

plavadesigns · 2 years

Text

How to Select a Pet Portrait Artist

Our pets are family so thinking of having a portrait painted of one, or all, of them is only natural. Who wouldn't want to immortalize their best friend with a beautiful piece of fine art? Pet portraits can be expensive, so choosing the right portrait artist for you is key to ending up with a work of art that you will both enjoy and cherish forever. Luckily for us the Internet has made it easier than ever to find amazing portrait artists all over the world. Artists are creating pet portraits in all mediums, all styles, and for every budget. This article will help you understand the in's and out's of the pet portrait business, give you some key things to think about while looking for just the right pet portrait artist, and provide answers to some questions that you may have.

1. Finding an artist - Pet portrait artists are not as common as one would think. Many artists are completely intimidated by the idea of representing someone's loved one, even if it is 'just a dog.' Portraiture, whether it is human, dog, or horse, is a specialized field and most artists will not attempt it. So, your first step in finding a portrait artist is to confine your search specifically for artists positioning themselves as pet portrait artists. Don't ask Aunt Mary to paint your dog if you haven't seen any examples of Mary's attempts at dogs or you may be stuck with a painting that you hate and that Aunt Mary expects to see in the place of honor when she comes for a visit. It doesn't really matter whether or not your artist of choice lives near by or even in the same country. Most professional pet portrait artists work with clients from around the world, so don't let the artist's location worry you too much. We will talk nft design about shipping internationally later.

2. Looking at their portfolio - an artist's portfolio is a collection of examples of their work. As you find artists online their websites should have images of past work. When looking at a portfolio of work you want to keep a few things in mind:

Do you like their style? Can you imagine their work in your home?

Do they have plenty of examples of portraits? 2 is not enough...20 or more is a good start.

Are they consistently good across their portfolio? Or are some works great and others so-so?

Do they use colors that you like? Many artists stick to a particular 'palette' so if you like bright colors and the artist only uses browns and grays and blues, keep looking.

How well do they do the animals' eyes? (the eyes are the windows to the soul...bad eye, bad portrait!)

Do they have testimonials? This is a nice-to-have, but it helps to know that other patrons, such as yourself, have been happy with the overall experience of having their pet portrait done.

Do they work in a medium that you like, ie. watercolor, oil, or charcoal?

TIP: If you like an artist's work, but not the medium that they work in, you might ask if they work in the medium of your choice, but if they don't, I wouldn't suggest commissioning a work from them unless you have seen examples of their work in that medium. Getting good at one medium takes practice and time. If the artist hasn't ever worked in that medium, keep looking.

3. How Much Does it Cost? - a good pet portrait can be had for somewhere between $200 and $1000, depending on the size and medium. Oils typically cost more due to the extended process and expense of the materials. Pencil and charcoal are often the least expensive, with acrylic and watercolors rounding out the middle. Bigger pieces of art are, of course, more expensive.

4. The Commission Process - every pet portrait artist runs their business differently, but typically, there are a number of things that will be the same:

Your Budget: commissioning a work of art from a pet artist might feel intimidating at first, but it can really be very simple. Pet portrait artists are professionals who work with people just like you every day - people who love their dog or cat, and who love art. But, at the end of the day, you still need to pay for that work of art. Determine how much you can afford to spend on your pet portrait either before, or as you, start looking for artists. Many artists will have their price lists easily accessible on their websites. In some cases, you will have to contact the artist and ask them about their pricing.

Initial Contact: when you find a pet portrait artist whose work you love (and that you can afford), the first thing to do is to contact them to discuss your project. Email is usually a good place to start. Some artists may prefer the phone. Either way, it is up to you to make the first move. Tell them about your pet, even include a digital photo, if you like.

Reference Photo: I don't know any pet portrait artists that ask your pet to 'sit, stay!' while they paint! They all work from photo references. A pet portrait will only be as good as the reference photo, so this is a key part of the process. You will need to supply a couple really good shots of your pet to the artist for consideration. You can take the pictures yourself, if you are good with a camera, or have a friend do it. Some people even hire a local professional photographer to take the photos. How ever you do it, high resolution digital images are required. If a pet is deceased and all you have are print photos, ask your artist if they can work from them.

Deposit: Since this will be a custom work of art for you of your dog, cat, horse, or hamster, most artists require a deposit to start work. This will get you on their calendar, especially during the busy season before the Holidays, and will be a commitment on your part that you are going to purchase this portrait when it is complete. Expect a deposit to range from 20% to 50% or more. Most artists take credit cards, PayPal and money orders. When you contact your artist, ask them what sort of payment methods they accept.

Production: This is where the pet artist produces your work. Expect good artists to have a backlog of work and that you will be put into their queue. It might be a few weeks or even more, before you get your portrait, so keep that in mind. The artist will typically email you a photograph of your portrait when they have completed it for your approval.

Approval: Every artist that I know wants more than anything for you to be happy with your portrait, so be sure to ask the artist about the approval process. If you are not happy with the work, you should not have to purchase it. Some artists may ask that you forfeit your deposit, but most artists will work with you until you are happy with the finished result.

Payment and Shipping: most artists expect to be paid in full before they will ship you your portrait. Packing and shipping costs are typically paid by you, so talk about that with your artist before you commission a work. Overseas shipping and customs costs might make it prohibitive, depending on your budget, so look into that before you say 'yes'. Large works will often be rolled in a tube to save shipping costs, but this adds some work on your end. If the work is on canvas, you will have to take it to your local framers to be 're-stretched' and then framed, if you wish.

Receiving Your Art: most artists will ensure that your portrait is 'ready to hang' when you take it out of the shipping container. If your portrait is on canvas, it should be pre-strung with a wire for your convenience. Be sure to ask if your art will be 'ready to hang' when you get it. Art that can't be hung easily and right away is like a battery-powered toy for Christmas and no batteries!

1 note · View note

helloimanavenger · 2 years

Text

We’re Both Out of Time (1)

series masterlist

chapter warnings: some mentions of blood

Chapter One: Meet Y/N Stark

"Sweetie, it's almost time to go. Are you ready?" your father called out to you.

You stomped out of your bedroom in the fourth princess dress you had tried on that morning.

"But daddy," you sighed, "I have to look perfect to meet your friends."

Your father bent down so that he was eye level with you, "Y/N," he smiled, "they're going to love you no matter what."

"I know," you smiled, causing your father to chuckle a bit, "but they're real life superheroes! I get scared."

"But I'm a superhero, and you don't get scared around me," he tried to reason with you.

You smiled even wider, "Silly daddy, you're my hero. Why would I be scared of you?"

Tony couldn't help the overwhelming sense of pride that washed over him. He was your hero.

Ever since he took up the mantle of Iron Man, people had been lining up to thank him for being a hero. Hell, he had parades thrown in his honor after the Battle of New York, but none of that meant anything in comparison to being your hero.

You meant the world to him. If he ever needed a reason to stand up and fight, you would be it. All he wanted was to make the world a safer and better place for you to grow up in.

Every time he went on the field, he imagined you and Pepper, his happy little family, growing together. It's what kept him going. He would sooner sacrifice his own life than let anything bad ever happen to you.

You were born when Tony Stark was a different man. Back when he was still young and reckless. When he only cared about himself.

That is until one day, your mother showed up at his door holding you. She claimed she couldn't do this anymore...she couldn't take care of you. That was the last Tony ever saw of her.

The moment he first held you, Tony Stark knew he was in trouble. He had already fallen so deeply in love with you that he wanted to give you the world. He wanted to give you the life you deserved.

So, he cleaned up his act. He ran his company and still made time to be a father.

Then, he was held captive by terrorists for months. Terrorists who wanted to use his life's work to destroy everything.

You were the only thing that kept him going.

Thinking of you, dreaming of you, wanting to hold you in his arms again and tell you that he was there and everything would be okay.

Miraculously, he made it out of that hell. He made it home to his only daughter. He became Iron Man and showed the world who he truly was and could be.

He owed you everything. You changed him...you made him the man he is today and gave him the life he has now. He wouldn't trade that for anything. In a way, having you saved his life. Now, he had you and Pepper and he loved you both with all his heart.

Although Pepper Potts was not your biological mother, she may as well have been with how much she loved you. Long before her and Tony were together, she was the mother figure in your life. You truly saw her as your mother and wouldn't trade her for anything.

Tony kissed your forehead. he was thrilled you were finally meeting his team.

He decided it was finally time. He had only been holding off in an attempt to keep you from the superhero life for fear it might be dangerous, but he soon realized, if this is who he wanted to be he couldn't keep it from you forever. He had to trust that he would be able to keep you safe.

"Come on, we better get going," Tony said.

"Wait, I think I know what to wear," you smiled returning to your room and changing into your favorite iron man shirt.

---

The ride to the compound was a short one from the house you, Pepper, and Tony had made your home.

Pepper was already waiting for you with the rest of the Avengers, who were all beyond excited to meet you.

When the elevator doors opened, you grabbed your father by the hand and began running into the common room.

"Woah, slow down Y/N," Tony said, "Fri, have everyone meet us in the common room."

'Yes, Boss.'

Pepper entered the common room first and you ran up to her with a smile on your face, clinging onto her.

Pepper was followed by a pretty redhead woman you recognized to be the famous Black Widow and a shorter man who you supposed was Hawkeye.

Then came a very tall man with long blonde hair. He was wearing a cape and holding a hammer...Thor, of course.

Lastly, a short brunette wearing a labcoat and glasses and a taller man with short blonde hair entered the room. You had heard your father talk about working with Dr. Banner which meant the other man had to have been Captain America.

You were overwhelmed to say the least, as you clung even tighter to Pepper and your father suddenly spoke up, "Everyone, meet my daughter: Y/N Stark. Y/N, meet everyone."

Natasha spoke up first, "Hi Y/N, it's very nice to meet you. I'm Natasha Romanoff, but you can call me Auntie Nat," she smiled.

"Good morning, smaller Stark. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Thor, of Asgard and you...you look a little young to be a warrior, but I suppose only time will tell," said Thor.

You giggled, "You're funny."

The rest went around the room introducing themselves, but when it was Steve's turn, he said nothing.

"Steve..." Tony prompted him.

"Sorry - I - uh," he began.

"What is it, Cap?" Clint asked.

"Y/N...she. She looks just like someone I used to know," but that was impossible, right?

Yes, you had the same name, but his Y/N...his Y/N was long gone.

"I'm sorry, I should go," Steve excused himself.

"Steve!" "Cap!" his friends called after him.

Before Steve was even fully out of the room though, multiple alarms began blaring and all the doors slammed shut.

Shit.

"Daddy," you cried, covering your ears to protect yourself from the noise.

"Tony, what is that?" Pepper asked frantically, squeezing you as tight as she could.

"Pep, take Y/N. Go hide. Now!" Tony shouted.

"Okay, okay. Come on sweetie," Pepper attempted to soothe you, picking you up and running to the nearest hiding place.

Unfortunately, you didn't have many options since the entire compound was on lockdown and you were trapped in the common room, but you hid behind the bar. You crammed yourself into the tightest space you could find and Pepper pushed the barstool in front of you to shield you more. She then sat in front of the stool in hopes of acting as a sort of human shield between you and anyone who might get back there...but no one would. She had faith in the room full of Avengers.

"Cap, call it," you heard your father say when you were out of sight.

"Those alarms mean we know there's someone in the compound. They knew to disable Friday and they knew to lock the doors in hopes of getting us seperated. What they don't know is we're all in here together. I need every possible entrance guarded. Romanoff and Banner, I want you at the elevator door. Barton, you're at the window. Thor I want you at the main entrance. Make sure nothing gets in. If it does, make sure it never gets out. Your main priority is keeping them safe," Steve said, pointing to where you and Pepper were hiding behind the bar, "Odds are whatever is here is here for us. If we don't tell them they won't even know anyone else is in the building. Your eyes will give you away if you let them, pretend nothing is strange behind that bar. Convince yourself. If you believe it you can make them believe it."

Everyone nodded, "What about you and Stark?" Natasha asked.

"Stark and I will take the emergency exit into the catacombs. Hopefully Stark's design is foolproof in that no one but us knows they exist. They will expect us to be trapped and they won't think to look for something that shouldn't exist," Steve said.

Tony nodded, "I kept that catacombs off all the blueprints for this building. No one knows they can get us outside. This will work, this has to work."

"If we can get into the rest of the compound we can take them by surprise," Steve continued, "Assuming there are multiple threats here we can split them up and buy you time before they figure out you're all in the common room. Just be on alert. Let's move out."

"Keep my daughter safe!" Tony pleaded, causing everyone to nod and ready the respective weapons they had on them as he and Steve headed to the emergency exit to the catacombs...

---

The alarms didn't stop blaring the whole time you were hidden behind the bar, so after a few minutes you started counting how many times they went off in order to keep yourself distracted.

One

The sound of glass breaking was almost pleasant in comparison to the sound of the alarms.

Two

"Barton, behind you!"

Three

The sound of Clint struggling in his fight was one you knew you would never get out of your head.

Four

That sound was only made worse by the one of both Clint and the intruder falling to the ground.

Five

Then the sound of Clint's shirt tearing as the knife pierced his skin.

Six

"He's hit!" Natasha yelled, running across the room to pick her best friend up off the floor.

Seven

While the intruder struggled to regain his composure, from being knocked to the floor himself, Natasha delivered a perfectly executed knockout punch.

Eight

Clint screamed in pain as he tried to stop the bleeding.

Nine

Natasha raced to his side while Thor tied up the unconscious intruder.

Ten

"You okay?"

Eleven

Clint groaned in pain, but said, "I'll survive."

Twelve

"Guys, there might be more of them coming."

Thirteen

Mustering every bit of strength he had left, Clint stood up and everyone prepared themselves once more for a fight.

Fourteen

But the fight never came, instead, the elevator doors slid open and in ran Steve and Tony.

Fifteen

The alarm turned off.

"Where's my daughter?" Tony demanded, seeing the smashed window and the bleeding archer.

Clint pointed weakly to where you and Pepper were still hiding, and Tony ran over, helping you both up,

"Daddy, you're hurt," you said after he had hugged you, pointing to a scrape on his forehead.

"Daddy's fine, Sweetie," he assured you, cupping your face in his hands, "I'm just glad you're okay."

What happened next happened so fast Tony knew there was nothing he could have done, but he would replay it over and over again in his head until the day he died. He would blame himself for eternity.

Your eyes widened and you broke out of your father's grasp, running over to the man who had been tied up.

Somehow, he had broken free.

You weren't sure what your plan was. All you knew was that he had a gun pointed at your father's exposed back.

"No!" Tony screamed.

But it was too late. The man had pulled the trigger.

Tony watched helplessly, as the bullet travelled at full speed, headed straight for your heart.

When it hit you, all you could feel was pain. Then, everything went dark as your father watched you disappear in a cloud of green.

To be continued...

#tony stark daughter #avengers x reader #steve rogers x reader #tony stark x reader #marvel

144 notes · View notes