#I am so normal about this uruk

[niennawept]

Random ask! Okay, I never finished RoP (didn't like it) but I find it irritating how often Silm fans just assume *no one* liked it. Often quite innocuously, but the assumption is there. So I love your positivity about it.

If you like, tell me why you love Adar. He was definitely the most interesting character to me.

Ahhhh! I'm so glad you asked! I'm sorry it took so long to reply, but I felt I needed time to distill it so I wouldn't ramble too much.

Spoilers below the cut for anyone who hasn't seen TROP, and still wants to

It's implied in one of the later episodes that Adar is an elf of Cuiviénen because he's one of the first orcs (he and his family prefer uruks - so I will call them that from now on). I already had a build-in interest in Cuiviénen. It's one of those times/places in Tolkien's worldbuilding that I'm just bursting with curiosity about. What's it like to wake up an adult? What's it like to discover parenthood? And language presumably? And cooking and clothing and everything? I wish we knew more about those first elves. And the thought of one of them being here in the Second Age and twisted into the father of uruks?! That leads me to my next point.

He was changed! He's ruthless and pragmatic and a very organized leader, if his results are anything to go by. He's not squeamish about doing objectively terrible things. BUT! He's not completely lost his elveness, nor his goodness, which I view as separate things, though I think the show wants us to equate them. Morgoth himself couldn't completely stamp either thing out of him and that's so compelling to me! He could easily have taken some form of revenge on Arondir who just killed one of his sons, but he doesn't. He offers to let the Southlanders go, if they will swear fealty (in order to not fight them). It makes me wonder about the others who were twisted into uruks. Were they the same? Different? A spectrum of degrees of corruption? To me, it also echoes returned thralls. Gwindor has always found a soft spot in my heart and it's hard not to see the parallels.

The fact that he doesn't belong perfectly anywhere. He's not fully elven and he's not fully uruk. He has experiences that each group can understand and can never understand and I just think that's incredible! This character as an island between two peoples with different traditions and cultures!! [incoherent screeching about the THEMES]

Bonus: When I was a lot younger, I had "first orc" OCs. I can't remember the details of any of their stories now, but something about the idea of being captured and changed appealed to me as a story-telling device. I liken it to the Borg in Star Trek, how people are forever changed by the experience of being assimilated but they can be reclaimed too.

I think that answers your question in more detail than you could ever possibly want. Thank you so much for letting me ramble about the blorbo from my shows 💖

#niennaanswers #polutrope #adar rings of power #gosh - he's just all of the things I like to explore in a trenchcoat #I am so normal about this uruk

[gremlins-hotel]

Could we know about catalhoyuk and their relationship with other nations 👀

Ah, that can be hard to say. For Çatalhöyük I am going off of archaeological evidence (namely excavations and studies of murals and artifacts from the site itself). I would argue it's even dubious for me to consider Çatalhöyük as a personification given we have no way to know if they had such a solidified identity. It's not considered urban nor was it a larger city-state that encapsulated further-flung agricultural villages/borderlands spaces into a politically influential region (though proto-city and proto-urban community are two terms generally accepted to use in reference to it in most literature I've consumed). We aren't sure if they would've had an established political body, though I would imagine with 3,000-8,000 clustered together, the people of Çatalhöyük would've had some sort of order in place.

This is a long-winded and rather roundabout way to say that the settlement of Çatalhöyük had no neighbors of similar size or capacity (as far as we know). Any 'neighbors' they may have had were most likely significantly smaller hunter-gather bands - which are typically made up of one to a few family groups, numbering in the tens, not thousands - or were smaller settlements whose legacies didn't preserve in the climate of south-central Turkey. Çatalhöyük as a personification may have been uniquely alone, whether through the fact that she is/they are the "first city" and had no one to compare to, or that any contemporaries they would've had might have come and gone long before they ceased to live. It's good to note that Çatalhöyük would've lived for approximately 1,000 years. (Estimates of continuous settlement of the site range from 1,100-1,500 years.)

Overall though, Çatalhöyük (personification) would've been living like her/their people. In oak-timber proto-row houses without doors, climbing via ladders to rooftops and to other homes. We theorize most things would've been done up on these rooftops; trade, conversation, fabrication of clothes and baskets and necessities, etc. as an early form of market since the site has no "public buildings" and no streets or walkways. We know that the people of this early society participated in early agriculture, farming wheat, barley, peas, lentils, and other legumes. They would've herded goats or sheep, as domestication and agriculture have gone hand-in-hand, which they would've used for food and for their hides as clothing. They also likely made clothing from woven bast fibers - textiles made from the inner bark of trees like willow, oak, and linden!

What we know about religion at Çatalhöyük is also vague. There was no known writing system and our information has mostly come from potentially ritual figurines and murals found throughout parts of both mounds of the site. But I personally would imagine that seeing this person who does not age - at least not like she should compared to everyone else - and seeing that she can perform feats that normal men cannot might make her seem like much of a divine figure. I know it's rather common fanon that the Ancients in Hetalia (or modern Nations who have also been around long enough to be considered so) would've been revered like gods. That, I think, would be interesting to play with. (A personal side note, I like to think that personifications of the later cities Eridu, Uruk, and Ur were female and therefore seen as emissaries of/faces of the goddess Ishtar (or Inanna).)

As for Çatalhöyük's relationship with other Nations, who at this time would've simply been cities or city-states, not nations as we see them today, I think their relationship is murky at best. No modern National personification we have today would have met Çatalhöyük. They know about them from archaeology, from literature, or from stories passed poorly down more in the cadence of a legend than factual anecdote. They are The First if not merely one of the firsts of their kind, which makes them special, but with that comes packaged the unfortunate tragedy that so much of Çatalhöyük's everything has been lost to time, to modern factors, and to the Earth itself.

However, this is something I'd love to do more research on so I could theorize better.

#callsign gremlin checking in #mooom! gremlin’s archaeologyposting again! #çatalhöyük // the first to rise; the first to fall #hetalia #hetalia headcanons #aph ancients #hws ancients #hetalia oc #aph catalhoyuk #hws catalhoyuk

[yamayuandadu]

I am not able to respond to this ask normally for some reason hence the screencap. I have more issue with what they did to literally dozens of articles than about their presence on my talk page, frankly. I still have not managed to track down all, and there are a few cases where I can’t do anything. Whatever, they left for now, and the epicenter of their activity has been locked for the foreseeable future. I do try to mostly pick sources which can be easily accessed so I'm glad that's working. As for the book, you mean this one? Truth to be told, the author's declaration troubles me. The Epic of Gilgamesh is possibly one of the worst myths to pick as a starting point for learning about Inanna. It presents a non-standard tradition, with Uruk and Eanna presented as Anu’s rather than hers (something that only holds true for the city in the Seleucid period...), and Paul-Alain Beaulieu went as far as arguing the compilers were biased against her, lol. That alone is a bad omen. Detailed analysis of what is available atm regarding the book under the cut.

Let’s start with the profile of the author. Nothing too bad or fringe, and I do not think you need to be an Assyriologist or otherwise tied to the history of Iraq and/or Syria to have something worthwhile to say about Mesopotamian mythology, so this alone is hardly a problem. With that out of the way, time to move on to the article and the fragment of the novel provided there for promotional purposes.

The novel is presented as a "fresh take on the oldest story of all: The Epic of Gilgamesh." Not great - it is not the oldest piece of literature in the world, or even of Mesopotamian literature specifically. In fact, it needed there to be a large corpus and a tradition of intertextuality to even arise. The famous version only goes back to the Kassite period. I do not think any single narrative holds the title of oldest myth, we more or less know what the oldest known piece of literature in Akkadian is (a hymn to Shamash where he hangs out with other judge deities), but good luck guessing which of the Early Dynastic Sumerian literary texts is the oldest. What's next? "In Athens, they call me Aphrodite now. In Babylon, they call me Ishtar." Not a fan of outright equating Inanna and Aphrodite. Truthfully, there are only two factors that lead to the widespread acceptance of this claim online: a) classicists are, let’s be honest, one of the types of historians who are just universally treated as better. Only Bible scholars rival them in that regard when it comes to the ancient Near East specifically. From an Assyriological perspective, even today their output about Inanna is, essentially, trash. Hyperdiffusionism and orientalism, long debunked myths, and so on. I saw an example on twitter just the other day. If Assyriologists wanted to match this quality they’d need to treat Apollo, Helios and Sol Invictus as interchangeable and base their perception of him on Madeline Miller’s Circe. b) goddesses are treated as interchangeable so Ugaritic Ashtart maybe being present on Bronze Age Cyprus and MAYBE influencing the local goddess is basically the same as her being Aphrodite and everyone knows Ashtart is BASICALLY Inanna. Personally I am very skeptical about such claims of direct descent also because ancient Greek authors just consistently show a completely baffling lack of knowledge about Mesopotamian deities, in contrast with their relative familiarity with Egyptian or Phrygian ones. Meanwhile, cultures which undeniably were influenced by Mesopotamia, like Hurrians, do generally show a solid understanding of the basics. Cyprus does show pretty clear merging of a “Levantine” tradition with a local one, but that’s… not really Mesopotamian, and does not really prove much beyond “Cypriots and first the inhabitants of Ugarit and later Phoenicians were in contact.” In particular, making vague claims about Aphrodite based on that is just faulty scholarship. Part of me thinks it’s also an echo of 19th century need to prove gods which did not fit the sensibilities of the era were not truly Greek. Singling out Babylon as a city associated with Ishtar is INCREDIBLY weird too. Why not Akkad? Why not Kish? Why not Mari? There was a distinct “Ishtar of Babylon” especially in the first millennium BCE but she is ultimately of limited importance and, following the modern consensus, was poorly received in Uruk. Does the author think Akkadian was only spoken in Babylon? Is she aware the names were used interchangeably in Uruk itself? Does she even know which cities which deity was worshiped in?

The use of the term Anunnaki non stop is another weird point. Anunna, with later variants Annunaki (ki = "of earth") and Anunna-anna (anna = "of heaven") is, simply put, just a fancy term for a group of deities. “A murder of crows” for deities, if you will. I would go as far as arguing that in many cases there is 0 reason to even leave it untranslated, much like how DIĜIR.MEŠ or other ordinary plurals. It only acquired a specific meaning as a logogram in Hurrian context, where it referred to Enna Turenna, ancestors of other gods, and in first millennium BCE text, where it refers to underworld deities (note that this does not apply to ex. Inanna’s Descent, where Anunna appear in an underworld context but according to Dina Katz are just major gods). That the gods are warring with each other, when coupled with this term, is suspicious too, but more on that in a sec. For now, suffice to say I suspect this is, in fact, not a reference to the "theomachy" seals or anything like that.

The description of Inanna's marriage - one would presume to Dumuzi - is weird. "Forced into a marriage to negotiate a peace"? Political marriage? With Dumuzi? The guy whose mother barely exists outside of texts about him? The guy consistently portrayed as a b list god, who was never a major deity, and whose cult center was a satellite of Uruk of limited importance? Also, is this some sort of deconstruction? Inanna appears in romantic and erotic poetry, that's hardly a topic relevant to political marriage. There are tons of cases which would work for a political marriage story, like deities whose cults were transplanted to new places because of the destruction of their original cult centers who promptly acquired new spouses. the love poetry romantic relationship thing is really hard to miss. Look how many of the Inanna-Dumuzi poems are on ETCSL. And that's not even all there is! A huge red flag is the focus on gods having children with humans. Demigods are EXCEEDINGLY rare in Mesopotamian mythology. Hell, even fully divine children born out of wedlock seem pretty rare. Gilgamesh is, simply put, a rather unique entity. Sex is pretty common in Mesopotamian literature, but it typically occurs between deities, most commonly between couples. There is only one type of source I am aware of keen on this sort of speculation - the writings of Zecharia Sitchin, one of the “fathers” of modern ancient aliens, and all around scummy fraud. A good summary of Sitchin’s absolutely deranged views, as well as a thorough debunking based on opinions of exports in every field he invaded has been compiled by Jason Colavito, see here for an online edition. One of the main topics of his nonsensical work is the firm belief in a "war" between Enki and Enlil, which is why I earlier said the mention of war between deities makes me suspicious. Sitchin pased away a few years ago after like fort years of "research." Sadly, his ideas keep being repeated by the tv show Ancient Aliens (over and over and over again), as well as in similar “literature” - examples are too plentiful to link all, so I’ll limit myself to some funny examples from Colavito s blog like this and this (feat. new age relationship therapists who believe polyamory is the key to defeating the Anunnaki). Sadly, these “theories” pop up in less expected places too. Their fans include musicians such as Nik Turner (to all of my followers also interested in Mesoamerica, this one’s four you, it’s a crossover episode) and Matt Pike, and various other celebrities around the world, as seen for example here (double feature with “if there are still monkeys, how is evolution real?”). Sitchin is also referenced in one of the leaked emails from a certain famous 2016 case (doesn’t seem the sender was anyone important, tbf). Most bafflingly, in 2016 his claims were presented as truth in a speech given by Kadhim Finjan al Hammami, the Iraqi minster of transportation, which was poorly received domestically for obvious reasons (this is presently the best referenced part of his English wikipedia article; no clue what the Arabic version is like). I am not aware of anyone credible spelling the name as NinshubAr rather than NinshubUr. A quick search reveals mostly shoddy self-help books, “goddess movement” literature (or, as I like to call it, esoteric terfism) and the like. Meanwhile, every credible source under the sun, and even books I normally dislike, stick to correct Ninshubur (or variant transcriptions thereof with dashes, diacritics etc). I am also not aware of any source presenting Ninshubur as a warrior deity. Well, source other than Louise Pryke’s Ishtar, a book which dedicated more space to Joss Whedon than to Nanaya. After all, being worshiped alongside Inanna for some 2000 years is nowhere near as important as being a sex pest who wrote some episodes of a shoddy tv show which is like Inanna because...? I no longer remember the logic. It was insane. If anything, an argument can be made that Ninshubur is the opposite of a warrior deity. Her primary role was to mediate and “soothe  hearts” (see here and here) and that's explicitly why she was a popular deity. In none of the narrative texts she appears in is her role even remotely belligerent. The closest she comes to that is Inanna and Enki, I suppose, but it’s still hardly a warrior role. While I have my issues with Olga Tokarczuk’s Inanna novel, Anna In w Grobowcach Świata (I don’t think there is an English translation despite the author’s moderate international success), I actually think it got Ninshubur (my bad, “Nina Szubur”) well, which means it’s something doable even if the author is a self professed Jungian and uses dubious sources. Not a hard bar to clear (with all due respect for Tokarczuk)!

The focus on there being only twelve deities plus Inanna is… incredibly weird. Mesopotamian pantheon was huge, with a lot of local variation. God lists typically enumerated hundreds of deities, with An = Anum, the most extensive known text of this sort, having over 2000 entries, though obviously many are epithets and not individual deities. The humongous numbers show up in Enuma Elish too. When it comes to actual active worship in individual locations: Paul-Alain Beaulieu’s study of the pantheon of Neo-Babylonian Uruk has entries for around 60-70 (give or take a few since regional hypostases are listed separately), I’ve seen a similar figure given for Early Dynastic Lagash. So I think it’s reasonable to assume that this was the norm for a city pantheon. Not all of these will be big shots,naturally, but a pantheon cannot only consist of gods representing the main cities and a couple of natural forces or celestial bodies. Understanding why the mediators, the personified professions, the spouses and children, the foreign imports and the weird leftovers who do not fit any category are there is pretty significant and I’m not a fan of just glossing that over. Myths actually do reflect that. Even the famous ones! To use just the example of Epic of Gilgamesh: Sumuqan, the one actual “fertility deity” (he was responsible for, quite literally, the multiplication of animals) is namedropped when Enkidu is first introduced; Ennugi, a courtier of Enlil, is mentioned in the flood section of the story (there’s an incantation which credits him with creating grubs, to illustrate what caliber of deity are we dealing with here), as are Adad’s sidekicks Shullat and Hanish (a pair of twins with a penchant for destruction), in the Old Babylonian version Humbaba’s master is Wer, a distinctly “northwestern” weather god, Aya (“dawn”) plays an active role when Ninsun negotiates with her husband Shamash, and obviously Ninsun and Siduri are both deities (contrary to what some online hot takes presume; the need to demythologize mythology is kind of tiresome). There’s even a goddess only attested there, Silili. Thirteen does not seem to be a number associated with Inanna anywhere. She does have a well attested numerical association, with 15. The numeral 15, if preceded by the dingir sign, the “divine determinative”, could be used as a fancy logogram to represent her name; hemerologies assign the fifteenth day of the month to her. The logic was basically just “30 is the number of her father (because moon god = lunar month), so a half of that makes sense”, though, it had nothing to do with the number of worshiped deities. Have to be honest, I don’t think I’ve seen either 12 or 13 treated as a religiously significant number in any Mesopotamian text, now that I think of it. I guess there are twelve gods in the curse formula of the Code of Hammurabi? For more see here (it’s old and in German though).

Wait, this is just a “well there are twelve olympians and it’s BASICALLY the same” thing, isn’t it? Oh wait, no. How could I forget Sitchin’s obsession with Mesopotamian deities corresponding to “twelve planets,” with Ishtar/Inanna as a "bonus" without a planet (it does not take much familiarity with Mesopotamian mythology to see the problem). It’s likely just ancient aliens again. Troubling! There isn’t really a single equally well attested grouping in Mesopotamia, while figures such as 7 and 50 might show up as the number of “great gods” (with no list provided), they are uncommon. Add to this major gods could vary between locations - even between the “core” cities (Nanshe in Lagash, Nanaya in Uruk, Zababa in Kish…), let alone “peripheral” ones, where Dagan, Inshushinak or the pair Teshub and Shaushka appear side by side with “truly Mesopotamian” deities. Given that dealing with this reality was a major aspect of Mesopotamian theology, I think a good modern adaptation should at least try to address it in some way. To be fair, the variability is also true for Greece and its neighborhood, take into account how popular Helios was in Rodos or Hecate in Lagina. As a side note, where is Utu? Was Inanna born without her twin? What the hell. How does this work. Is this setup for Sitchinesque "the sun is Apsu actually"? Tl;dr ancient aliens/10, sounds awful.

#namelessscribe #inanna #mesopotamian miscellanea

[hasquetzorkukudoneanythingwrong]

Birthday 538-539

Short Quetz story!

Rex, Nota and the others were in the city of Uruk when an attack is heard from within the city! They run out to see the source of the attack. When Rex saw the perpetrator he was in a shock.

The enemy was attacking even killing many Uruk soldiers like it was nothing. Mash intercepted her right before she could attack another enemy and was launched into a building nearby. The group runs towards the building and within the hole came the enemy, Quetzalcoatl.

"So it is true! One of our enemies really is Quetzalcoatl!" Nota exclaimed when she looked on at the enemy. Rex remained silent, still somewhat in disbelief in what he was seeing.

"Si! I am the serpent goddess of mesoamerica!" The blonde goddess excitedly exclaimed, while even doing a small dance. "You two actually look quite familiar! If you are who I think you could be, I am not surprised you'd recognize me!" She said looking on to the two masters.

Then suddenly Rex, who had finally snapped out of his shock, yelled out "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS! QUETZALCOATL LOVES HUMANS TOO MUCH TO DO SUCH A THING!" The rage and passion in his voice was clear as day. He knew Quetzalcoatl and she wouldn't do something like this!

The goddess was very surprised to hear that, but continued on cheerfully. "My my! Young Master, the passion in your voice and the look you give me, it really pushed all of my buttons!" She said, while trying to hide the blush on her face. "You know, maybe if you'd marry me, I'd switch to your side!"

Rex was surprised for a bit when he heard that, but not long after she asked he responded "sorry, but I already have a serpent I'd like to Marry" Rex said in response.

That was not the response Quetzalcoatl was expecting from the young Master, but before she could say anything she's immediately attacked by another being. Launched through multiple building until finally stopping and before her stood her assailant. "STAY AWAY FROM MI NOVIO!" said The Quetzalcoatl from Chaldea!

The Quetzalcoatl Rex summoned at the very start of his journey stood over her Babylonia counterpart. She responded with only Pure Rage at her counterpart's "proposal" to her master and boyfriend.

The Babylonia Quetz was shocked to see not only did Chaldea already summon another her, but that she called her master "Novio" something she herself hadn't considered. "No-novio? You two are dat-" but mid-sentence Chaldea's Quetz grabbed her counterpart by the arm and launed her through more buildings.

Rex's girlfriend was showing far more brutality then she normally would, clearly enraged by the other's words. The Quetz of Babylonia jumped back to her feet to prepare for her counterparts next attack, since she was clearly not in a talking mood.

Chaldea's Quetz zoomed towards her enemy at sonic speeds but she was still able to dodge and avoid the potentially devastating attack. It was clear as day she can't fight her now and needed to retreat. She whistled out to her pterosaur to come and provide a hasty escape!

"GET BACK HERE! FACE MY WRATH PU-" Quetz was yelling out to her other self before Rex embraced her to calm her down.

"Mi corazon! Relax! Calma, calma..." He said to his beloved servant to get her to calm down. It worked and she finally calmed down. "You don't have to be angry anymore" Nota raised an eyebrow at that, since he was pretty angry earlier himself.

Back in the current day, Quetz was remembering that time in the Babylonia singularity. "You ok, Mi Vida?" Rex had asked her, noticing that she seemed to space out.

That had shocked her back out of it. "O-oh! Nada mi amor! I was just remembering some things" She said back to her husband.

"Ok then! Well the Piñata's ready for you and your sister's birthday! So we should get going!" Rex had told his wife.

"Oh! Si, let's go then!" Quetz said in response. While they left the room, Quetz had one last thought about that past experience. "I really didn't need to be that angry at the time...." As she blushed a but in embarrassment.

A/N: so! Here's another short story, now focused on Quetz! Less birthday stuff but still very important! Hope you guys like it!

Tags

@hasbbdoneanythingwrong @haskamadoneanythingwrong @haskiaradoneanythingwrong @hasnightingaledoneanythingwrong @hasspartacusdoneanythingwrong @exmeowstic @chaldeamage-neo @lesaltywarlock @voidsh1k1 @madillhethen

#fate grand order #quetzalcoatl #wife #mastersona #rex #rexcoatl #daily update

[hoghtastic]

To the anon who asked if she would fit within the european beauty standards…

I think she is low average and far from even pretty or “cute”. I try to find her ‘point’, honestly, but everytime that I see a video of her or even pictures in where she is meant to look her “best” (with make up,good lighting, good angle…) I am sorry, but I do not see her 'having it’, anywhere.

I know this is not about to make anybody feel bad about their looks, but the subject here is about her looks now, so I am going to be bold without wanting to offend.

Her teeth are bad, her hair is a mess ( colour for some people might be attractive, but texture, haircut and hairstyle are always terrible, she looks so filty all the time and the bangs didn’t suit her).

Then, about her body type, she might feel like a 'diva’ now and that she is on her best moment, because she lost quite a few pounds and that is very noticible. I mean, if you scroll at pictures from the past she was definetily a CURVY girl, and there is nothing wrong about it, but for 'average’ standards, she might have lost weight but yet she stills quite unfit, out of shape (mind that most of her mirror pictures are quite deceiving, she posts them because she looks slimmer on them and she obviously likes that, but see, for example, how she did cut her legs from her New Year’s Eve reels video, because she has thick thigs on the video, but then she posted a picture of her with massive long legs that was simply a camera effect or a filter to seem “longer” and “skinnier” and that most influencers use. Or the horrible shoes from her red carpet, they are terrible shoes, but they made her legs looked definetly longer and thinner, she felt good in it because the entire outfit made her look skinnier and she knew it) And yes,she has big tits, but what can I say, not the best shaped ones,either. Whats the point on big tits if they dont stay where they are meant to stay when the bra is off…Not and attractive feature for me.

Then, her skin. To be fair I have never seen anybody of her age with so many wrinkles, for f..ck sake. I am sorry, but that is far from normal or average. I am way older than her, I do nothing skincare wise and I have a pretty normal lifestyle, and I do not have wrinkles.

She is 28 but she looks way way older, I am sorry. She does not seem attactive in my opinion and I do not think she fits the “beauty standards” here in Europe. And that is not 'the Scandinavian beauty standard’, either.

She is not a monster nor an uruk-hai from the Lord of the Rings, no, for sure. But I would not move myself out of the way for her to pass through, so to speak.

Her style is also a mess. I mean, what else can I say, she needs an stylist, a dentist, a hairdresser, a gym, and a lot of retinol. And also a little bit less of arrogance and fuc…ing pretentiousness, because the attitude is, once more, what makes her the ugliest, after all.

I honestly hope I didn’t offend anyone, I didn’t mean to come across rude or offensive. But I think is what most people might think, if you ask about her fitting the beauty standards.

Then again, beauty is subjective, isnt it? So…Who am I to say.

(P D: Her voice is annooooyiiiiiiiingggg…)

Regards!

#submission #thank you for sharing your thoughts on this!

[madnessfromthemountains]

WIP Wednesday Game

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet or reblogging this (you can check the reblogs!), send them an ask! Make them write.

Requested/Friend event mentions under the cut! If you'd like to be pinged next week, let me know!

What a cool way to make progress! My file names are simple…

Chopper

The Wild Hunt

Dinosaur Sue

Allana’s Uruk

Barbarian and Girl

Snippet from ‘The Wild Hunt’

Dee came in, still naked, Jenine following her with her clothes. Piper looked back to normal, not that I’d ever seen her walking around in human form much. But Dee…wore her tattoos. I just wanted to look, to sink my hands in all that.

“Babe…” I held my hands out to her.

She came closer and pushed me back. “Later, dear. Piper has stuff to tell us.”

Piper looked around at all the guys carefully not staring at them. “Damn, why didn’t anybody tell me bikers were polite?”

Fred snorted and held out a bar tshirt. “Give the poor bastards a break, kid.”

Piper took the shirt and her eyes widened. She said something in Cantonese about big and rocky.

“Careful.” I warned her and scooped Dee onto my lap.

“I am not a kid, either. I was born in, um, 1856 or so.” Piper glared at me, but pulled the tshirt on. It made a whole dress on her.

“You’re undead either way.” Gator snapped.

“I’ve existed in one body for over a hundred years. But dammit I need not to argue.” Piper took a deep breath. “We’ve been attacked.”

I could see Gator figuring they deserved it. “By what?”

“Who. I dunno who she is, but damn, she’s powerful. Last night this…goth chick showed up and called to us. We answered like she was you, no, like she was our goddess, our everything…beautiful and deadly and terrifying.”

#kedreeva #writing #actually writing #prompts #wip wednesday game

[ofuruksandnologsarchive]

Smut smut smut!! Uruk and Tark smut please and thank you ❤😘

Tw: Gangbang, bodily fluids, nsfw, +18, reader-insert, gender neutral reader.

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" Aah...!"

Too hot to think. Mind going fuzzy. The steady rhythm, the sinful sounds created by you and him echo in your ears. With sweaty hands, you reach out in search of his own, only to have both arms aggressively pulled back by a pair of claws.

"Yeah, just like that, little Tark... Looks like you're enjoying this as much as I am." He laughs when you whine with desire. His grip on your hips is tight as your lover continues to drill into you from behind.

You both have been at this for what felt like hours, having aching with need until you've hit the point of no return. In truth, you had been the one who started this. The warmth, the strange feeling inside your lower belly, the mighty want to be filled over and over. You were horny for the past few days or so without a way to relieve the ache.

Knowing Uruks have sharpened senses, it certainly did not take too long for them to find out that you were the thing that smelled so strange, but so good and why they were way more aggitated than normal. And when they found out, well, the offers poured in like an avalanche.

You weren't prepared to witness just how willing Uruks were ready to sacrifice for but a moment of intimacy with somebody unlike themselves. Even Ologs, though you might think it absurd - they cannot possibly fit at all! -, had approached to offer themselves as potential mates. The choices were endless, unlike their patience. After all, as the tension arose, they struggled to keep calm, and began to fight for your attention.

It took only but an unusual proposal to make them stop.

"This is so boring..." A booming, deep voice yawned, coming from the corner of the room. "When will I finally get the chance to make the human scream?"

"Ah, shut up and wait like everybody else here, ya big glob!"

The Olog glared back at the berserker behind him with a low rumbling growl. His offender, however, did not seem phased, nor recognized his fellow soldier as a threat.

"Like you, we've been waiting for our turns for hours now! Can't do shrak about it, so how 'bout you sit on your arse and wait? You're the next one!" The Uruk huffed, clearly agitated by the ordeal. A few soldiers behind him nodded their heads, agreeing with his words.

The hulking figure grinned as he approached the berserker, shoulders tense as if preparing to rip his comrade to shreds. "Maybe there is something I can do about it..."

"Alright, you two knock it off before you get killed!" A nearby guard that had witnessed the scene sighed. It had been a long day for him, but at least he had gotten the chance to have fun with you earlier. "You know the deal. No fights, or the Overlord feeds you to his caragors."

With the two silenced by that, bystanders noticed that the Uruk pounding deep inside you was nearing his climax. A good thing, for sure, as it meant their turns would soon come. Even better, they would be able to take a closer look at your current state of disarray.

You laid on your back as the Uruk pulled out of you with a pleased groan and spilled his seed all over your thighs and torso, shivering as small shocks of delightful pleasure ran through your body. The white, sticky cum that covered your skin was the result of your strange proposal: they would all have a chance to mate with you, as long as no one was harmed. The Overlord himself had promised you would be provided with protection and a healer, should you require one.

The long hours of being picked up, thrown on a bed and fucked silly were worth it in the end. It was a curious experience to find out who was interested about the idea of fucking you and who was disgusted. A few were experienced, others were virgins. The Kinkiest ones often belonged to the most feared tribes, though you were surprised whem a Warmonger captain requested for you to be in charge.

You were thoroughly fucked, had several dripping cocks inside each and all holes, and cum dripped from between your thighs and ram down the corners of your mouth. Still, your tired body longed for more.

And more you would get. Your belly filled with butterflies as the giant Olog approached to replace your previous lover. With both hands he took his kilt off and palmed his weeping cock, eyes heavy with lust. You gasped at the size of his member, feeling yourself getting excited at the thought of finding a way to fit it deep inside you.

"Now, Tark," the huge figure rumbled as he lightly squeezed his meaty organ, pre-cum falling to the floor in a puddle. "Open your mouth."

#letsbedragonstogether #middle earth shadow of mordor #middle earth shadow of war #shadow of mordor #shadow of wardor #shadow of war #answered #uruk #olog hai #olog #scenarios #scenario #not safe for kiddos #not safe for kids #smut #uruk hai

[acahope311]

I Promise

A/N: Amari, Queen of Erebor and wife of Thorin Oakenshield, spends a day exploring the secret tunnels with their son, Arnel. But when a friendly and peaceful mother-son outing turns deadly in a heartbeat, can she keep her family and home safe? This is my first ever fic, so I hope you like enjoy it :) Also the lullabye I reference is “Hushabye Mountain” from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

Warnings: blood, angst, tears

Words: 6547 (it’s a doozy)

I wanted to say thank you so much to everyone for taking the time to look at the story and reassuring, supporting, and hyping me up through the whole process! ^-^ 

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Deep in the heart of the Lonely Mountain, in the walls of a secret tunnel, the quiet calm was broken by childish giggles and squeaks. Amari, Queen of Erebor, and her son, Arnel, explored secret tunnels that snaked in and out of Erebor with excitement. Initially, Amari was reluctant to venture into such a dangerous expedition with her son, but even she could not stand against a cherub face framed with a hint of dark peach fuzz. Preparing for this outing, she decided to move her queenly duties aside and trade her gown for a borrowed tunic and trousers from her husband's wardrobe, her bladed tonfas sheathed in her hip holsters. Although still in their home, it was best to always be prepared when entering unknown areas of the mountain. 

"Amad, hurry!" the squeal of a child reverberated down the abandoned walls of an ancient tunnel that wound around the base of the Lonely Mountain. Amari smiled fondly at her son as he pulled at her hand, urging her to quicken her pace.

"Calm down, ibinê. We have all day, sweetheart. If you keep pulling, you'll run out of energy, then we'd need to return." The queen warned as she gently pulled the young prince into her arms. Whining, he tried to pull away from her grasp. 

"Maaaa, I'm not a baby, I'm almost seven! I'm a warrior!" Arnel scowled as he fended off his mother's affection, but failing as he too started to giggle at her kisses. 

"Of course, my warrior prince. Now let's just walk a bit further, then go and save your father from those boring councilmen, hm? I’m sure your sister is there too." She gently placed him down and ruffled his hair affectionately.

The dwarf prince was about to object, when suddenly a low growl came from his stomach. Embarrassed, Arnel looked down. "That wasn't me…"

Amari laughed heartily at his expense, further annoying the child prince. 

"S’ not funny!" He whined, stomping his tiny foot. Looking up indignantly at his mother, his ocean blue eyes flashed a storm. Although a Durin worthy scowl took place on his face, little tears formed in his eyes, threatening to fall from embarrassment. Amari held her laugh in as she picked up her son again and wiped them from his face.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Of course it didn't come from you. Now, why don't we head back? I am getting a bit hungry…" Arnel took this opportunity to divert the blame to someone else; he stroked his non-existing beard mischievously and looked away for a moment.

So much like his father. She thought as she studied his face.

"Well if you are tired, it is only right for a warrior to keep the Queen safe and well fed. Right, Mama?" He asked, unsure but firm in his thinking. Amari nodded and put him down.

"Right you are! Spoken like a true prince. Now, let's head straight to the kitchen and make some pizza, then I'll tell you a story from my world while we cook. I think we will need to make a BIIIIG pizza for your father and sister. What do you say, kiddo?" Arnel perked up at that; he always loved hearing tales of your life before coming to Middle Earth. 

"Yes please! Can you tell me the story of your amad and namad? I like hearing that story." Reaching up to her, she picked him up and cradled him to her hip. 

"Of course, my-" 

Suddenly a rock tumbled across the flat ground towards them, as if kicked by an unseen being. Its sound echoing through the darkness making the hairs on Amari’s neck stand on end. Instinctively she hugged her son tighter to her chest. A menacing laugh surrounded them, thickening the air with fear and anxiety. 

"I'd like to hear that story too. Can I join you?" A deep, rasping voice came from the end of the tunnel, shattering the safe haven of mother and son. Amari turned protectively to the source. Stepping out of the shadows, a group of orcs emerged. 

Orcs?!?! Here in Erebor?! Adrenaline started to course through the woman's body. Looking more closely at the creatures, she realized these were not orcs. Uruk Hai. Amari's face paled at the realization. It was no wonder, though, she thought them to be orcs at first sight. However these creatures were taller, more muscular, and oozed evil- so much so that even the eternal torches that lined the tunnel cowered before them. She hadn't even realized that she started to back away until they moved forward menacingly. Stained with blood and hair, they gripped a black sword in one hand, and in the other… 

Oh no…

A large body was being dragged, no bigger than a dwarf. 

Frode… 

The young guard’s uniform was torn and tattered, soiled with dirt and blood. Amari had wondered where her assigned guard was that morning, but never in her life would she have anticipated this. Her flight or fight reaction kicked into fight mode, but in her arms, she could feel Arnel's shaking body, eyes brimming with fear and tears. Gently, but quickly, she brought her hand to shield his view of the carnage and threat looming over them.

"How did you get into our home? Get out!" She yelled with such fierceness that it startled both herself and Arnel. The leader chuckled maliciously before dropping the body with a sickening thud. 

"I don't think so. We like it here, you see. But even more so! Boys look, this isn't any human. The queen under the mountain has graced us with her presence." He sneered, his companions growling like a pride of lions, eyeing their prey. "And look… she brought a snack. How thoughtful your majesty." Amari tightened her hold on Arnel. Not breaking eye contact from the advancing Uruk hai, she spoke to her son softly and calmly in their secret language.

"Sweetheart. I need you to be brave. Can you do that for me?" Arnel looked at his mother, her brown eyes looking away from his, but he could see her panic. He had never seen his father, nor his mother afraid, but witnessing her fear, he let out a small whimper, but he knew that he had to be strong. Gulping audibly, he nodded. "Yes, mama." He whispered as bravely as he could.

"Thank you, my brave, brave warrior. Now, I need you to hold on tight, and hide your face to my neck. Don't look up, no matter what ok? It'll be like when we play peek-a-boo with adad. Remember? It'll be just like a game!" Amari says the last part as lightheartedly as she could, but a quiver in her voice betrayed her. She was terrified; under normal circumstances, the Queen would never back down from a fight, but with such precious cargo in her arms, she did the next best thing. She ran.

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How did they get in?! How the fuck did this happen?! 

Deep in the heart of the Lonely Mountain, the quiet calm was broken by the sounds of quick and light footsteps, rapidly outrunning the thundering and heavy footfalls of evil. 

Amari ran as fast as she could down the tunnel, retracing her steps to break out of this hellish nightmare turned reality and back into the safety of the open halls of Erebor. 

A little more! Mahal please! The queen begged the gods for the chance to escape. She could feel her son's quivering and whimpers, her shirt already wet from his silent sobs as he kept his head tucked into her neck. 

"Amad I'm scared! I want adad!" He whispered fiercely. Her heart breaks with every word. "I know ibinê. I'll get us back safely, I promise. But please, don't look up, keep your eyes down!" she begged between each hard breath she took, her lungs burning from running for what seemed to be an eternity. However she saw the familiar light of the main hall, where they entered. Yes! 

"Oh no you don't! It’s rude to abandon your guest, your majesty" the cruel voice raked down her back, but she didn't care. She just needed to get Arnel out. At whatever cost.

"MAMA LOOK OUT!" Arnel's shriek broke her concentration as she felt a sharp pain in the back of her thigh. Suddenly the ground came up to her face, instinctively she shielded Arnel with her body as they tumbled forward. Her arms held him close, however her body tumbled further and jostled on the floor, losing her grip on him, he rolled out of her arms and into the hall. Luckily, her training kicked in and she steadied herself and corrected her stance, pulling out her tonfas. Battle ready to defend her son and herself. The advancing Uruk hai halted in their tracks and grinned cruelly. 

"Tired your majesty?" They taunted, eliciting a menacing growl from her.

"On the contrary, scum, I have never felt more invigorated." She retorted. Her mind is running a million miles a second. She knew if she left with Arnel, the Uruk hai would follow them into the mountain, truly threatening the lives of innocents. However if she stayed, she and Arnel would never make it…

No… not Arnel. Not him. 

Calling to him, she yelled in their secret language.

"Sweetheart, are you ok?" Silence. "Arnel!" She barked. More silence, just as she was about to risk a glance, she heard his little sobs.

"I want adad… Amad I'm scared…" His quiet cries were starting to grow louder as he saw his mother’s leg pierced with a silver dagger, blood dripping and pooling at her heel. Amari took a deep breath to steady her nerves. It wouldn't do anyone any good if they were in hysterics. Without looking at him, she continued talking.

"Arnel, everything will be alright!! I promise, sweetheart...I need you to do something for me. I know you are tired and scared, my love, but I need you to run as fast as you can and get  adad-" 

"Mama-"

-He is in the room where he meets with the important people. Do you remember where, sweetheart?"

"Mama I don't wanna leave you! I'm scared- "

"I know." By now, Amari's tears fell freely down her face, but she made sure her fear and sadness would not reach her words. 

She could see them inching forward, growling and grinning at the prospect of hurting the Queen herself.

"I know you are afraid, ghivashel. I am too my love… but you need to be brave and bring adad here. And then everything will be alright. Can you do that, my brave warrior? C-can you do that for mama?" Arnel sat for a second, processing what she was asking him. She was asking him to leave her… and get help. The prince stood as tall as he could but he kept his eyes on his mother’s back; he could see her shoulders shake- he hesitated. And that was all that the enemy needed. 

In that second, a dagger flew to the face prince of Erebor.

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"Adad! Look! Troll!" Darna squeaked as she held up the King's notes to his face, obscuring his line of sight to his councilmen. She could feel his chuckle rumbling through his chest as he took the piece from her small chubby hands. 

"Hmmm, who is this supposed to be ghivashel?" He inquired, tilting his head to the side as he studied it with such scrutiny, you'd think he was looking to buy it with a whole bag of gold. Darna mirrored her father's expression and stroked her non existent beard. 

"Its Unca Dain!" She proclaimed. The King's booming laugh echoed through the room, pausing the meeting and aggravating the council. The dwarf in question strode into the room and stood next to them, looking at the picture, then nodded.

"Not bad lass, I guess you take after yer amad." Placing two glass chalices on the table that glittered and cast beautiful shapes light that captivated the princess. Thorin took them and gave Darna hers before turning his attention back to the meeting, drinking his ale. Darna, looking up in awe at her father as he chugged the liquid down in one go, tried to mimic him and did the same with her milk, only to start coughing. Her coughing fit halted the meeting once again and Thorin gently patted her back.

“It went up my nose adad…” She whined, pushing her glass away. Thorin wiped her tears and milk on his sleeve, staining his royal robes. 

“That’s why we do not rush when drinking, men uzbadnâtha.” Taking a handkerchief from his pocket- a parting gift from Bilbo- to clean up her mess. Fili smiled at the sight, never would he have thought that his uncle, Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, would be a doting father- wrapped around a little girl’s finger like a ring- then again even he could not be spared from the princess’ charms, nor her brother’s. Kili frowned, as he noted the queen’s empty seat thirty minutes into the meeting. 

“Uncle, where is auntie?” He inquired. 

“Your auntie took a break to spend time with Arnel, something about exploring.” Thorin, without breaking from his fatherly task, answered. Worried glances were thrown across the table, the silence made him look up. “What?”

Balin cleared his throat and looked nervously at him. “Laddie, there have been some reports of our people going missing in the mountain. I thought you told her?” 

“I did, and I assigned Frode to be her guard.” Thorin replied. Dwalin- who had not been paying attention to the meeting- suddenly sat up. “Thorin, Frode has been missing since last night.” 

A chill ran down his back as his mind ran a mile a minute thinking of the worst scenarios that could happen to them. Fili and Kili stood, knowing how their uncle’s mind worked, and headed to the door.

“Do not worry uncle. We will look for them and make sure they are safe” Fili reassured.

“Not that she’ll need it- You know how auntie is with her tonfas. Mahal help the assailant! Remember when the assassin at their wedding tried to- ” the dark haired prince’s conversation was cut short by the heavy door being thrown open, banging against the stone walls. The sound startled everyone in the room- Darna nearly fell off her father’s lap. In turn, the King stood- holding his daughter protectively against his chest- and angrily turned to the door.

“What in Durin’s name-” He stopped, staring in horror as the image of his six year old son, blood dripping down his face from a cut, breathlessly gripped the door. 

"ADAD! ADAD HELP!" His shrieks echoed in the room as he tried to rush further into the room to the safety of his father, but fell onto the floor, breathless. Fili bent down to catch him as the little prince’s legs gave way. Blood stained the golden dwarf’s hands as he tried to look for other injuries. Gently putting Darna down, Thorin rushed to his son. 

“Inùdoy! What happened?! Who did this!” He howled, causing Darna to whimper. 

“Adad…” The little girl walked slowly to her brother and father, fearful of her brother’s situation. 

“Do not move! Stay there... sweetheart!” He yelled, making her sob softly. Kili saw her distress and went to comfort her. “Uncle please…” But it fell on deaf ears as Thorin tended to Arnel.

The young prince gasped for air as he tried to stand again. Everyone stared in horror at the child prince- disheveled, bleeding. 

"AMAD! FIGHTING MONSTERS IN THE GWEAT HALL! ADAD PLEASE SAVE MAMA! MONSTERS COMING!" Arnel gasped as he stood up, only to collapse in on himself. He hated how he looked right now, he needed to be brave. He promised amad. Looking, pleading with his father. Without thinking Thorin ran out the room, flanked by his nephews. The company who attended the meeting raced after him. Except for one; Bofur stopped mid stride, grabbed the prince and placed him in the arms of Balin. 

"Keep the lad company, we'll be back.” Bofur ordered before swiveling on his heel and running out the room. The walls rumbled from the heavy footsteps of a Company of dwarves running down the hall. The dwarves’ protective instinct drove them to run to the Queen’s side but Thorin’s mind set on one task: Save his One.

Unbeknownst to him, two pairs of little feet followed the men, just as determined to save their mother, the Queen.

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"Hurry up Arny!" Darna squeaked as she tried to keep a safe distance from the group of dwarrows running to their mother's aid. Her brother wheezed as he tried to keep up.

"Darny, I cant… my legs hurt so much! My chest is hurting!" The young prince whined, slowing to a halt and falling on his hands and knees. Darna stopped and worriedly toddled back to her twin. As she got closer, she was finally able to get a good look at him; his hair was sticking up in different directions and his braids, always so neat and in place, were falling out of its plait. What really scared her, however, was his cut; even though she knew it was shallow, the gash would scar and leave him and his family a lasting memory of today. The weight of the danger weighed heavily on the young princess, the reality that she could have lost her beloved brother shook her to her core. Darna kneeled next to him and gently placed her hand on his sweat soaked shoulder. 

"Nadad… are you ok?" 

Arnel looked at his sister's face but quickly turned away in shame; although young, they were told often that they were the spitting image of their parents- and it wasn't until he looked at his sister's face did he believe them- for he saw their mother's scared face in hers. Arnel looked down in shame.

"Namad… I'm so sorry." He whispered, watching as his tears fell onto the stone floor. Each drop seemed to weigh a ton and echo through the hall. Arnel hated feeling like this; he felt weak. He couldn't protect his mother, he can barely keep up with his sister. "I couldn't help amad." He hiccups as his crying increases. Darna hugged her brother tightly, her own tears cascading down her chubby cheeks. "And she could be dead. Mama… mama she told me to run and get help. I couldn't do anything else." Darna rubbed his back, starting to hiccup herself. "I'm weak, Darny…" 

"Nadad, you're not! You're able to get adad! You're hurt, but you still did it! You're so b-brave, brother. I bet even braver unca Dwalin.” Darna pulled back and watched his hunched figure shaking. 

“ Were they orcs? Were they like how adad said they were in the stories?” Darna couldn’t help but ask- little did she know the loaded question she’d just asked. A heavy silence descended on the children as memories of the recent events flashed through Arnel’s mind- huge creatures with eyes as dark as night, hands and skin stained red, gnashing mouths with sharpened teeth… their strong and lithe mother taking on the menacing evil with shaking shoulders that he knew she tried to control for his sake. A sudden wave of bravery and adrenaline washed over the young prince. Standing up, he stumbled a bit before Darna could steady him. Looking at his face, she notices the shift in his resolve- looking more like their father during his meetings on topics of war. 

“We need to go help mama, Darny.”

“But you’re hurt! We need to go back, I’m sorry I made us leave but-”

“No, you don’t understand namad. Mama is very hurt and we have to help her and adad!” His blue eyes flashing like an ocean storm. 

“Will you follow me, sister?” Darna couldn’t help but be moved by his determination. Returning his intense gaze, she nodded.

“Anywhere you go, I’ll follow, brother.” Hand in hand, they ran down the hall to their parents.

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The mountain thundered as news of the danger spread like wildfire. Every available dwarrow dropped their task and took arms to defend their home and beloved queen- for although she was no dwarf, let alone from Middle Earth, she had been blessed by their Maker to bring hope and happiness to her people. She cared for them as though they were her kin. Amari could feel a shift in the air, as though someone opened a window to let fresh air into a stuffy room, but she could not be distracted- not when she was fighting for her life. 

Left. Right. Parry. Dodge. Repeat. 

Is Arnel alright… 

Please hurry Thorin! Fucking King under the mountain my ass! I always have to clean up the mess here! 

Amari’s mind jumped from indignation, anger, annoyance, worry, then ran her mind back to her training as she took on a mini legion of Uruk hai. Her tonfas cutting a path slowly but surely through her enemy. Her mind set on making sure none would make it through the threshold of her home- she is Queen under the Mountain, born in a modern world, a mother to two blessings of Mahal, wife of Thorin Oakenshield- if she could not defend her home and family, then the burden would fall on others and she would have failed. So lost in thought, she failed to register a pair of assailants and landed deep wounds on her back, raking down from shoulder to hips. Her pained scream echoed through the hall, suddenly she felt cold air hit her bare back as the uneasy feeling of warm scarlet liquid trickled down. Nonetheless, she persisted. Pushing back even harder, one by one they fell to her attacks until there were only two. 

“Tired your majesty? You seem to have left quite a mess in your wake.” One of the beasts taunted. Her enemy cracked his whip dangerously close to her. Dodging it, she failed to realize the feint and dove straight into the path of his waiting ally. Amari stared in horror at her mistake and did her best to regain her footing to dodge once again, but was ultimately unsuccessful. The uruk hai brought down his blade across her torso, slicing her chest open. At first, Amari thought it was the end, but upon second thought she realized her three doublet undergarments saved her life. 

Thank freaking Mahal! I knew it was a good idea to wear these!

Taking advantage of her enemy’s false victory, she took her tonfas and cut his head off, watching as it rolled to the side. Breathless, she turned to the last one standing- his face bared the anger and hatred that was unleashed upon her new world.

“Tired already?” She taunted, throwing his words back at him. The queen slowly slunk into a dangerous prowel. She exuded grace and ferocity, elegance and power. No longer was she prey, she was the predator. This was her territory and he was her victim. Quick as lightning, Amari lunged. Her eyes set for her target, no hesitation. One slice was all it took for her to incapacitate the beast. The uruk hai was wailing in pain on the ground helpless, however she did not kill him- one thing Dwalin taught her was to always keep one alive for questioning. As the monster lay on the ground bleeding, his wails subsided to malicious cackling. Amari’s fury flared again.

“What’s so funny? Does death seem like a joke to you?” She grit through clenched teeth as she painfully approached the helpless form- every step like a burning wave through her body. Her injuries finally catching up with her as the adrenaline subsided. She knew she had a little over an hour to get help before it would be fatal. The uruk hai seemed to know this too, noting her pale face and scarlet pool gathering at her feet.

“You don’t look too well, your majesty” he taunted, another cackle followed by a coughing fit echoed through the hall. “I suppose there is some prize to this whole ordeal. If I am going down, I made sure you are coming down with me, foreign queen.” With every word spoken from the vile creature’s mouth, Amari’s blood boiled another degree. “It’s just a shame we couldn’t take the half-breed down. But we will. And your husband will be none the wiser.” 

“Wanna bet.” a booming baritone voice echoed down the hall as the dwarf King descended on the evil creature- maiming him with his bare hands. After a moment, a group of dwarves pulled the king back.

“Let me go! That scum deserves to die!” Thorin roared as he fought off his kin. Dwalin pulled him back, fury raging in his eyes.

“Thorin, I know. But we need to interrogate him for information. You know this.” Dwalin growled so low, it surprised even himself. Shoving off the hands pulling him back, Thorin had no choice but to agree. Nodding, he turned to his friend. “Make sure he suffers.” 

A thud to his right brought his attention to Amari, laying on her side, facing them. Thorin’s blood ran cold as he swiftly gathered his beloved carefully into his arms. He noticed the gash on her torso but felt the wounds on her back to know that those were the worst.

“Amralime, I am here. You’ll be alright.” He softly reassured his queen. Amari’s eyes started to close, worrying the King. “SOMEBODY BRING A HEALER HERE NOW!” Thorin ordered. “Look at me, Amari. Keep those eyes open…” He begged. “You cannot leave us, my love… you cannot leave ME.” He shook her gently, making sure that she stayed awake. Amari fought with every ounce of strength she had to keep her eyes open, not because she knew she was going to be alright. But to make sure to burn into her memory the face of her most beloved. If this was to be last view, she was glad it was her husband. The thought calmed her enough to smile. Reaching up, she pushed his hair behind his ear, before caressing his cheek.

“If you keep frowning, you’ll get wrinkles, your majesty,” she teased. Even in her weakest moments, she lived to see her loved ones smile. Managing to pull a brief and soft chuckle from the distraught king.

“Thorin, Frode… he’s dead. He- in the tunnel. The Uruk hai-”

“Shhhhh. Ghivashel, please. We can look into this later but right now, we need to get you to Oin.” Thorin began to pull her up, only to stumble when she yelped in pain. His knees buckled at her pained voice

"It hurts so much, love" Amari whispered. Every word is a knife to her husband's heart. 

"I know, my love I know." Thorin kissed her forehead and brought her closer, ignoring the warm wetness staining his sleeve. "But Oin will be here, and you'll be fine. Everything will be fine, ghivashel so please…" the king's voice broke. Trying to keep face, he took a deep, shaky breath. Amari could see his resolve break. She'd only ever seen her King let his walls down in their chambers. Her heart broke at the first tear that fell from his ocean blue eyes. Amari wiped it away, smiling. 

"Don't cry, my love." Thorin leaned into her touch, "Oh Amari..." Another tear. "Please, just a little while longer, ibinê. Talk to me, my love… Don't leave me." Thorin begged, and he didn't care. He didn't care that his royal garment was being stained red. He didn't care that his eyes watered his lover's face with tears. He didn't give a damn when his body shook with grief and he whispered soft prayers to his Maker to save his One. 

"My love, our people are here… you need to be strong.” She whispered, gently stroking his bearded cheek. Thorin in turn leaned into her touch. “If not for me, kurduwe, then stay strong for Darna and Arnel.” The names of their children brought a minute wave of strength.

“Arnel…” Amari gripped his coat tightly. “Did he-” 

“Mama?” two tiny soft voices rang through the halls, like bells in a steeple. 

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It was my fault.

Arnel looked at the small figure in their father’s arms. Frozen in place, as Darna sprinted to them. 

“MAMA! MAMA! DON’T GO! DON’T LEAVE ME PLEASE!” Falling on her knees and vigorously shaking her mother’s arm. Amari turned her head and moved her hand to caress her daughter’s face. 

“Darling, I didn’t pick your clothes today but you look so pretty.” Amari noted, smiling warmly. She was determined to make sure that she showed no pain or sadness to her cherished treasures. 

Darna looked down, a tiny flicker of pride flashed within. She always worked hard to get praises from her parents, even for the smallest task like closing the door to keep the draft out. She smiled and tugged on her garments. 

“I… I picked it myself, amad...But I don’t- I don’t wanna pick my clothes anymore, so- so you have to pick them for me forever, amad. And you promised we would go out again next time, and you said princess and queens don’t break promises.” The princess of Erebor weeps as she wraps her little pinky finger around her mother’s pinky, her fragile voice breaking every heart in the hall. “Mama you promised- you pinky swore.” She whispers, giving up and curling into her side. The whole time, Thorin tries to keep his tears at bay, keeping a mask of hopefulness and stoicness but failing as each tear drop trails down his aged face, the facade is breaking. Amari chuckles

“I did, didn’t I…” Frowning, she moves her head slightly- hissing. 

“Amari.”

“Mama no…”

“Where’s your brother?” Arnel, still as a statue, flinches. Thorin’s blue gaze reaches his own. Arnel has never seen his father so broken- he always saw him like the statues of his forefathers: grand, big, immovable, majestic. But here… Arnel saw a scared and heart broken dwarf. 

“Come, inùdoy.” To the ears of those around, it sounded just like any command the dwarven king would give. To the ears of his closest friends and family… it was the plea of a broken husband. Slowly, the young prince walked to his family. The hall was silent except for the sound of his little shuffling feet and the quiet whimpers of their kin. When Arnel reaches his mother’s side, he breaks. Falling to his knees, he places his head tucked in his arms on her belly, weeps heavy tears and wails. The cry shakes the halls that even the mountain itself seems to weep with the prince, not soon after the wails of his sister follows, amplifying the pain of the inevitable possibility that the Lonely Mountain could lose a queen, that a husband could lose his wife, that two little children could lose their mother.

“I’m sorry… amad, I'm so sorry…” a hiccup. “I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve fought with you. I should’ve protected you.” Arnel grips his mother’s clothing. “I promise I’ll get stronger but- but you have to help me, amad...I don’t wanna be weak anymore. So promise you will help me mama… A queen keeps her promises- so you have to mama!” The prince raises his little finger and wraps it around his mother’s finger. Amari is quiet. She knows what they’re doing, trying to buy time for her. As much as they can. 

Little rascals. She smiles.

“Mama…” Darna pulls her attention back to them. A soft chuckle escapes her. Thorin can see she's trying- holding on as long as she can. But even she has limits, just as he does, and right now his heart is pushing past its own to make sure to be strong for their children.

“I promise sweetheart. When I’m… better, we can train together. After, your sister and I go to Dale. Do we have a deal, my lovelies?” She shifts so that now she is leaning on her husband's strong arms- trembling arms. Not from tiredness of holding the weight of his family- Mahal knows he will hold that weight forever in his arms if could. No, they trembled from sadness and fear. Amari gathers her son and daughter in her arms, inwardly wincing at the pain, but Thorin feels her flinch.

“Kurduwe, don’t overexert yourself.” He warns, readjusting his hold. Amari ignores his warning and starts to sway a little.

“My loves, I will be fine… I did say I will be with you, no?” She asks playfully, the two whimpers and grip their mother’s clothing, placing their head onto her torso- ignoring the moist feeling on their cheeks that they know aren't their tears. Thorin embraces his queen tightly and sways along with her, he turns his head and pushes his nose into her hair- inhaling her scent. Turning to the group, he sees the Company in tears, all their heads slightly bowed, giving the family the privacy they need. Only Balin is holding his head high- taking in the sight of the Queen Under the Mountain caring for her husband and children, and sending fervent silent prayers to Mahal, to Manwe, to any of the Valar to hear the plea of an old dwarf to save this woman beloved by dwarf, man, and elf.

Amari hums a quiet lullaby that calms the room, Arnel and Darna’s cries have quieted and only the uneven breathing of sorrowed children escapes their mouths. Minutes go by and they yawn. 

“Sleep my darlings.” Amari whispers, her voice weak and light. The twins shake their heads, they do not want to lose a second without their mother.

“M’not sleepy.”

“Me too.”

Another yawn spills from them. Darna’s eyelids begin to droop as her mother strokes her hair

“How about a lullaby then?” Amari moves so both children are safe within her and their father’s arms.

“Don’t wanna sleep… Don’t wanna lose you mama.” Arnel whimpers, another bout of crying threatening to envelop him. At that comment, Darna’s little chubby hands grip Amari's clothing.

“You won’t lose me, sweetheart. I’ll be here, I promise.” Thorin exhales sharply, his heart breaks at her promise; he knows that even though she is answering their son, she is also reassuring him. 

“Promise, you’ll be here when we wake up…?” Darna asks, her eyes closed and Arnel close to follow. 

Silence.

“I promise, I will be with you when you wake…” Thorin grips his wife tighter- the implication heavy on his heart.

“Adad you too? You’ll be here too?” Arnel asks sleepily. Thorin nods.

“Yes, ibine, I will always be here with you.” A promise verbally etches into the walls of his mountain. I will always be with you. I promise. Amari sniffles, moving so her hand is cradling Arnel, and the other arm moves and caresses the back of Thorin’s neck to bring his forehead to her’s.

“I promise, I will be here when you wake.” She promises again to her king. Closing their eyes, Amari sings.

“A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain

Softly blows over Lullaby Bay,

It fills the sails of boats that are waiting,

Waiting to sail your worries away.

It isn't far to Hushabye Mountain,

And your boat waits down by the quay.

The winds of night sdo softly are sighing,

Soon they will fly your troubles to sea.

So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain,

Wave goodbye to cares of the day,

And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain

Sail far away from Lullaby Bay.”

A heavy silence falls. Thorin opens his eyes and sees his children softly snoring, looking up he looks at his queen.

“Amari..” he shakes her gently. “Amari!” His voice makes Darna shift. 

“Mama…” she whispers in her sleep. Arnel is gripping his mother’s ripped tunic tightly in one hand, while his other is to his face as he is sucking his thumb in comfort. Amari doesn’t move, nor does she open her eyes, her breathing is shallow and weak, her face pale, but her grasp on their children does not falter or weaken. 

“Mahal please…” Thorin begs. “Anything, please… just save her.” The king quietly sobs into his lover’s hair. He opens his deep blue eyes and pleads to the surrounding dwarrows. In the distance, he sees two tall men walking toward the group quickly. The crowd parts and rushing to their side, Gandalf the Grey and Thranduil, king of Mirkwood, urgently looks at the queen. 

“Thranduil, take the twins. I need to look at Amari.” Gandalf orders, immediately, the elven king reaches out to the children. Thorin growls and pulls his family closer to his chest, his eyes glaring at the elf. The wizard heaved an exasperated sigh at the gesture.

“Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves! Thorin if you do not give them to Thranduil, I cannot see Amari, and she will die.” Begrudgingly, he loosens his grip and Thranduil carefully cradles the small bundles in his arms- a peaceful tenderness befalls the face of the elven king, reminiscent of when his own son was at this tender age. 

Gandalf’s hand hovers over the small frame of the queen, when he comes back to her face, he whisper’s a spell. Thorin watches the mage with bated breath, praying that he can save his beloved. After the incantation, Amari gasps a heavy breath, but her eyes stay close. Thorin had witnessed his life saving magic, he himself experienced it during the quest for his home, but never had he seen the victim not open their eyes. He started to panic again.

“Gandalf-” 

“She needs urgent help. Thranduil-” 

“Say no more, Mithrandir.” The elvish king gently deposits the twins into the gray wizard’s arms. Then tenderly, he lifts the wounded queen into his arms and without another word, turns on his heel and strides to the healer’s wing. Thorin is just about to protest when Gandalf gently places Arnel and Darna’s sleeping forms into his arms- he notes the huge change of weight in his grasps and begins to show distress. 

“Thranduil is gifted with healing- you know this. If anyone can save your queen, it will be the King of Mirkwood.”

“But-”

“Stay with your children, Thorin. They need you more than ever now.” The wizard’s eyes fall on the sleeping pair and he gently touches their head, whispering another spell. Thorin looks at him questioningly.

“To sleep soundly and peacefully, for they deserve happy dreams away from this living nightmare.” With that, Gandalf hastens out the hall, towards the halls of healing, joining Thranduil. 

Deep in the heart of the Lonely Mountain, the quiet calm was thick with the smell of blood, and sorrow as the King Under the Mountain, held his slumbering precious treasures, staring helplessly at the direction that his beloved was taken, tears endlessly streaming down into his beard as his closest friends and family reassure him of her safety, but even they are unsure. Thorin exhales a breath he did not realize he was holding and sends another endless plea to the gods.

Mahal please… Keep my One safe.... Amari, come back to me, to us...I promise I will wait for you.

To be continued?

Taglist: @cassiabaggins @guardianofrivendell  @elles-writing @lathalea (thank you so so much for reading and double checking me :)  )

Thank you for hyping me up! :D @luna-xial @fizzyxcustard   @tschrist1

#thorin x oc #thorin oakenshield #angst #uruk hai #the hobbit #tolkien #im sorry #first fic #thorin x reader #thorin's company

[fuwafuwamedb]

Gold Flowers From Golden Kings (Kid Gil, Hakuno Lily)

“Do you want them?”

Kid Gil looked up from the blooms in the pot, noting the blue haired man in his apron. It was raining lightly outside, herding him to the overhangs. He’d meandered the streets beneath their extended safety, finding himself drawn to the flower shop.

The golden blooms in the pot had suckered him in to admiration. His hands had been taking in the quality and color of the plants in this glazed brown pot.

Now though, he was cornered a bit by the salesman.

“You’re working here too,” Gil asked, smirking a bit. “Did the café fire you for teasing girls too much?”

Cu Chulainn rolled his eyes. “I have my shift over in the café tomorrow, kid. Unlike some, I like to work for my living. There’s something satisfying about being able to lend a hand to my community. Not that a troublesome brat living rent free at the church would know anything about that, would ya?”

“It’s so cute to hear you justify your work.”

“Uh huh. You buyin’ somethin’ or not?”

What had happened to the genuine smile and good nature he’d had just a second ago? Gil clicked his tongue, glancing at the blooms again.

Filthy mongrel or not, the man could grow gold from the most lifeless of shit. Or, it seemed that way. The gardens at the church looked to be in as fine of quality as the plants here.

“I will take this small pot,” Gil replied, picking it up and giving a nonchalant shrug. “I am always one to show some humility when the mood strikes me. Seeing my good pet working himself to death in a variety of places has me feeling like at least giving you a smidge of pay from which to get a wage from.”

The man raised a brow at him.

“What?”

“You sure you want that one? There’s some gold pots inside the building a little further.” He motioned towards the interior of the store. “You could probably find something more suitable for a king like yourself.”

“Are you telling me that I cannot buy this because you find it to be of such poor quality?”

“Nah, just making sure you want that one instead of others.”

“Well, I do. How much?”

“1000 yen.”

“I’ll give you 800 yen.”

The man gave him a bored look.

“Now now,” Gil smirked a little. “Weren’t you the one just trying to get me to buy another pot because this one was too plebian for me? Why should I pay the normal price that everyone else would pay when I am a king?”

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” the man sighed. “800.”

His card was whipped out quickly enough, handed to the man before he glanced at the flowers again.

These would do.

The rain was still coming down a little as he headed away from the flower shop. He could see people running around with their umbrellas, others were moving their outdoor furniture into their shops to avoid getting them soaked.

It wasn’t a good sign.

His eyes fell to the flowers again, debating on what to do if things didn’t work out. He’d only seen her a few times in the park. If she wasn’t there-

But the thoughts died the moment he saw the café overhang out and the small figure sitting at one of the artist easels. Her feet swung back and forth lightly as a brush went back and forth in front of her. Her bright brown eyes were drifting over to the man nearby, listening to him talk and glancing between her work and the man’s own.

A painting of the city scenery, he observed as he moved closer. There were little windows and colorful walls making up the canvas at the moment, with bits of the gloomy skyline still lacking.

“Fancy meeting you around here, Brownie,” Kid Gil purred, slinking a little closer.

“It’s you again,” the girl grinned proudly. “I’m painting today. It’s supposed to help keep one’s memory in good shape.”

Right.

Gilgamesh smiled, moving the pot of golden blooms in front of himself.

“I have something even better. A gift.”

“Gold lilies! My favorite!”

Were they? “Of course! I have great taste in all things-“

“They’re so pretty,” his girl replied, cooing away as she set her paintbrush down and accepted the pot from him. “They remind me of your pretty hair color. Thank you so much, Gil!”

Her smile was so wide. Her bright brown eyes were alight, focused solely on him. He could feel the strangest pitter pattering in his chest, leaving him to cough a little.

This girl made him feel the strangest things.

“I-It’s nothing.”

“It’s definitely something. It’s really nice of you. I love them.”

Before he could move, she was bouncing forward, her lips pressing softly to his cheek. The heat in his face and the area was going up. His eyes widened, hand going to his cheek before he could stop himself. Even as his mouth hung open and his mind drew a blank, this girl didn’t seem to even notice.

No, she held her blooms and smiled as though he’d named her queen of Uruk.

“These are so pretty. I’m going to put them on my windowsill and water them every day,” she promised. “And then I will always remember my Gold King who gave me beautiful flowers and held my hand to help me home the other day.”

“D-Do you need help walking home today?”

The girl smiled sheepishly. “Ah… I mean-“

“It’s fine, Hakuno. I have time.”

“I have to finish my painting first.”

He moved to sit, settling in and nodding.

When she was done with her painting, he’d hold it for her and hold her hand, just to make sure she made it home safe today as well. She could hug her flowers close and tell him how he was a golden treasure.

She was, for some strange reason, fascinating to him.

Who knew plain girls could be this cute.

#drabble #drabbles

[niennawept]

No thoughts. Head empty. Only this look on Adar's face.

[ The Rings of Power, S1 E7 "The Eye" ]

#adar #rings of power #i am so normal about this uruk #it looks a little like hope #that tiny hint of a smile

[omgsquee2001]

I’m never letting you go. Never again.

~~~~~~~

Anonymous said: Hi! Can i ask for an Aragornx reader one with 1. ? And maybe some fluff at the end? Thanks

I hope this is what you wanted, Anon. If not, I’m more than happy to rewrite it. I hope you have a good day/night. 😁

~~~~~~~~

Aragorn x reader using Prompt number 1: You’re okay, you’re safe now.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Aragorn! There’s too many!” You shouted, striking down another Uruk with your sword.

You were the only child of Gandalf the Gray. You traveled to Rivendell with Prince Legolas Greenleaf, for your father had left you in the Elves’ care while he went to visit Bilbo Baggins in the Shire. You had wanted to come, but your Father said that he felt something was about to happen and you would be safer within the boarders of Mirkwood.

When you arrived in Rivendell, you met Legolas’ best friend and the future King of Gondor, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. For you, it was love at first sight. But you saw the way he looked at Lord Elrond’s daughter, Lady Arwen. You thought you wouldn’t have a chance with him.

When your father fell to his death in Moria, Aragorn was the first to comfort you. You cried into his chest.

“Dry your tears, [Y/N]. I share your pain, we must reach the border of Lothlorien before night fall.” He said. Sniffing and drying your tears, you nodded.

When you reached Lothlorien, you tried to hold your tears back when Lady Galadriel said that the quest was close to failing. After the audience with the Lady, you and your weary and grief stricken company went to sleep. As you lay down, the laiment for your Father began. As tears came again, you felt a body lay down next to you. An arm draped over your waist and gently pulled you close. That’s when you heard his voice.

“Rest, [Y/N]. No matter what happens, I promise I will keep you safe.” Aragorn said. The feelings you had tried to burry deep within yourself sprang forward. You rolled over and buried your face into his chest, allowing the gentle beating of his heart to lull you to sleep.

The night on the shores, you stood watch over the company, leaving you alone with your thoughts. As footsteps approached you, you reached for your sword.

“Stay your blade. I am a friend.” The familiar voice said. You sighed in relief and relaxed.

“I apologize. I guess I’m on edge.” You said. Aragorn stopped at your side.

“No apologies needed. We all are after what has occurred,” he said. You smiled and chuckled slightly. “[Y/N], I must confess something.” You looked at Aragorn. “Ever since I saw you at Rivendell, I have fallen in love with you.” You gasped lightly at his confession. You really hadn’t expected that. “I understand if you do not share the same feelings,” he was cut off when you placed your lips upon his. And thus, started a beautiful relationship.

Now, here you were at Amon Hen. Fighting hordes of Uruk Hai. You struck down another and another.

“Aragorn, there’s too many!” You shouted, striking down another Uruk with your sword. Holding out the palm of your hand, you blasted energy at another. Suddenly, the Horn of Gondor sounded. Your eyes widened.

“The Horn of Gondor!” Legolas shouted.

“Boromir! [Y/N], go help. We’ll keep them occupied here!” He shouted. You nodded. You surprised your lover by grabbing the back of his head and pressing your lips against his.

“I love you.” You said before taking off.

When you got to Boromir, you saw the first arrow fly towards his chest. //I’m so sorry!// You stopped in your tracks.

“Boromir!” You shouted. The Uruks turned their attention to you. Before you could rush to his side, your were picked up along with Merry and Pippin.

~~~~~~~~~

You were dropped onto the ground along with Merry and Pippin. Your hands were bound. You looked at the two.

“Merry, Pippin, no matter what happens, stay close to me.” You whispered. The Hobbits nodded.

“I’m starvin’! We haven’t had nothin’ but maggoty bread for three stinkin’ days!” An Uruk complained.

“Yeah. Why can’t we have some meat?” An Orc named Snaga agreed. His eyes fell onto the Hobbits. “What ‘bout them? They look fresh.” Snaga said. You got up and stood in front of the Hobbits. Ugluk pushed the Orc aside.

“They are not for eating! They have something. An Elvish weapon. The Master wants it for the war.” It suddenly dawned on you. They thought Merry and Pippin had the ring.

“They think we have the ring?” Pippin asked. Merry glared at him.

“Shh! Once they find out we don’t we’re dead!” He said.

“Wot ‘bout the ‘uman? They look yummy.” Another Orc said. Ugluk glared at the Orc.

“They aren’t any normal human! They are the child of Gandalf Greyhame. The Master wants to personally take care of them.” Ugluk said. In that moment, you knew that “take care of” meant kill. All of the sudden, shouts of men and neighing of horses rang through the Uruk camp. You and the Hobbits got you bonds untied. One of the horses raced through, separating you from the Halflings. Exhaustion caught up with you and you collapsed. The last thing you saw before you passed out, was a man.

Pain shot through your leg, causing you to gasp and jerk awake. Gentle, yet calloused hands cupped your cheeks.

“[Y/N], [Y/N], you’re okay, you’re safe now.” You knew that voice. Your vision cleared and you saw the person you thought you would never see again. Tears built in your eyes.

“Aragorn.” You whispered. Aragorn smiled and pulled you into a hug.

“I’m so happy you’re alive, my love.” He said. “I’m never letting you go. Never again.” He vowed. You knew that you would be in good hands from now on.

//I apologize if this sucked. I really tried my best. If you don’t like it, Anon, let me know and I am more than happy to rewrite it for you.//

#Aragorn #aragorn x reader #lord of the rings #requested

[hopeled]

empatheorem event info

will i ever have a muse that doesn’t reuire an essay post? probably not

PHYSICALLY

Ritsuka is just, an average human and a third rate mage, so there’s nothing too different about how you! unless you weren’t human originally. you need mystic codes to use magecraft, but they’re all fashionable!

you are fully unlocked: all mystic codes +their spells back. you also have a high resistance to poison and mana, as well as immunity to mystics under god-level [ think of being charmed, paralyzed, etc etc]. on your right hand is Command Seals, used to issue commands to your Servants but you’ve not once needed to use them in Spirale (save for Mistified)

okay here’s where we get deep. you may be human now but you’ve suffered a lot physically and it shows. your body is covered in scars of all types. (for more description, they’re listed in her stats page here) some of the more newer scars are darker and more visible on your skin (i.e. a bite mark on your left from when you shoved your arm into a Shades mouth during Security Breach), but the most prominent one is the one you received from dying during Mistified from BB’s scythe. it’s mostly healed, but you will feel the ghost sensation of being impaled, as well as sharp jabs of pain every so often on both your abdomen and upper back, between your shoulders blades.

 originally, your fingertips were the only part of your hands discolored black (due to near necrosis from pushing yourself too far back during Uruk) but that has now extended all the way down to your wrists, fading in color to your regular skintone. this is a result of the toll the Black Barrel Replica has had on you. while feeling in your fingertips was on and off, it extends to where the black covers your hands. sometimes you feel things normally, others you need to grip in order to even be sure you’re holding something as not to drop it. your Command Seals are still vibrant but it looks off to others. you no longer wear gloves to hide the discoloration

 you have plenty of body aches and pain due to all your body has been through, both in your world and on the island. you push through them, of course. they don’t bother you because you’ve grown used it, much to the chagrin of others

you are strong! physically, humanly strong. you’ve also recieved hand to hand combat training from your bff Aelin, so you know how to handle yourself.

 sy goodbye to your sleep schedule and get ready for only sleeping 3,4 hours before waking up at 2 am. you get just enough rest to avoid any dark circles under your eyes, but that’s about it

you are reckless. like, massively reckless. the ‘ looks death in the eye and doesn’t flinch’ sort of reckless

EMOTIONALLY

 you are naturally a kind and sunny person, but after joining Chaldea and being all you’ve been through, this has extended to acting as some sort of mask or cover. you use the smiles and the cheerfulness to cover up everything else, you don’t want to burden anyone with your emotions

 you do not talk about your death. you haven’t mentioned it once ever since after returning from the Abyss and you do not plan to. 

you always carry the guilt of destroying the Lostbelts with you. you do not put it down or ignore it because you can’t. you owe it to them, don’t you? to remember them, to remember the faces belonging to a world you helped snuff out to save your own. you carry that guilt around your shoulders like a blanket and use it to keep going. 

you always think people can do better than you. that there’s someone out there who is better for your job, that maybe if it was anyone else, things wouldn’t have gotten like this. you don’t feel as if you are enough for this, that someone else can do more, but you don’t have the luxury of making this about ‘you’ and you don’t. you may feel like you aren’t enough, but you must do this. you don’t have a choice. you have to be enough, you have to be

it is because of this that you’re self-sacrificial, practically martyring yourself to save the world. whatever is asked of you, you do. you give it. and you don’t complain about it. you can’t be selfish and most of the time, the world doesn’t ask before it takes. but it’s fine. so long as you’re still standing, still able to fight, then you keep going and you keep giving. 

your empathy and compassion is bordering on self-destruction. selfishness is not really in your vocabulary, but you don’t really think you can be.

whetever fate lays before you, you’re accepting of it, after all, you know you’ll be punished for the sins and the blood so thick on your hands that they can never be clean again. of course. you’ll fight like hell. you always do-- you can’t rest until the world is safe once again. and whatever that cost may be, you’ll pay it without complaint

you are always afraid. you feel fear as much as everyone, but you push on with it. it’s okay to be scared. you just won’t let the fear rule you

you’ve dissociated from your pain. if anyone asks, you pretty much say it’s your duty to bear it without batting an eyelash. thisis how you cope. you don’t think on it, don’t dwell on it, and don’t pay it mind much anymore. your problems and issues are the least of any concern right now

not many people understand you. in fact, very very few do and that’s okay. you know you’re not alright, that what you’ve been through has changed you so much and hardly anyone can comprehend it. but, as long as they’re willing to fight with you, then that’s all that matters

oh, you have anger. you have plenty of anger, but it takes much for your anger to be shown. you instead keep it down, tucked neatly within. 

#iremp info #▍♢ SPARE QUARTZ MA'AM? [ooc] #i'm honey nut depressios

[cosmicbug379]

Ever Northward Gaze

Guys I made myself really sad with this one. Like so sad I cried writing it at 11 last night. It’s not my normal thing, but here we are. Also the title is actually from the book of Lord of the Rings! In the book, when Boromir dies, Aragorn and Legolas sing the Lament for Boromir and it’s really sad and I’ve been listening to the version on Youtube that Karliene did (she’s one of my favorite artists honeslty and she has some really good LotR and Game of Thrones stuff so definitely check her out, she’s amazing!) and I was being sad about it so here we are. It does not have a happy ending so be warned. Also, i picked some pieces from the book, and some from the movies and I combed through the timeline of the fellowship and looked up a lot of distances and stuff so the timeline and days is as accurate as I could make it and it’s literally only mentioned like 3 times so that’s fun. I also only tagged a couple people cuz I really honestly don’t know who even wants to read this. Okay sorry for the world’s longest Author’s Note.

Fandom: Lord of the Rings

Pairing: Boromir x reader

Words: 1496

Warnings: Major character death 

It had been months since you had last received a letter from Boromir, and you hated it. You understood why-the need for secrecy had been clear-but you still didn’t like it. The last letter he had sent was from Rivendell, he said he was joining a quest, a fellowship that was setting out to bring the One Ring to Mordor. You knew he left because Lord Elrond had sent word that it had been found, there had been a council called to Rivendell to discuss what to do with it. His father wanted him to bring it back to Gondor, so they could attempt to use it against Sauron, but the Ring was evil, it couldn’t be used against it’s master.

You missed Boromir terribly. He was supposed to come right back, instead it had been 241 days since he had left for Rivendell and 132 days since his last letter had arrived. He was only supposed to be gone a little over 100 days, and now it had been more than twice that since you had last seen your husband.

You had spent most of your time since Boromir’s departure in the Houses of Healing. Ioreth had taught you from a young age, and you quickly discovered you enjoyed it and you were good at it. Faramir always said you were the perfect balance to his brother. He was always the soldier, ready to fight; you always wanted to help people, heal them. 

When you weren’t in the Houses of Healing, you were in the rooms you usually shared with Boromir. You enjoyed painting, and you had a balcony that overlooked Pelennor Fields and you could just see Osgiliath in the distance. You also enjoyed singing, and Boromir insisted you had the voice of an angel, even when you told him he was wrong. You were writing a song for when he finally returned to you, but you were stuck. You had been on edge for over a week now, you weren’t sure why, but you had a bad feeling about something. Your sleep had been restless and your dreams troubled when you had them.

7 nights ago you had dreamt that you saw Boromir’s body in a small boat passing down the river Anduin. You were sobbing when you woke up, and stumbled your way to Faramir’s room. He said he had the same dream, and it made you even more uneasy. You were worried. A weight had come over you, you feared you would never see your husband again.

You sat in your room now, reading over his last letter again. The ink had started to fade and the edges were worn. You read his letters often, trying to remind yourself of him, but this was your favorite.

My darling wife,

It has been too long since I last saw you, and I fear it will be even longer still. I regret to tell you this will be my last letter for some time. I have volunteered to accompany a brave young hobbit in his quest to bring Isildur’s Bane to Mordor. I hope our path will bring us close to home and I will be able to see you, but I am not so sure. 

We are walking, it is best that way, horses will draw too much attention. It will be a long time before we pass into Gondor or anywhere close to the White City, but I will count the days until I can see you again. 

I miss you more than I can put into words, my love. I miss sleeping beside you and waking up with you in my arms. I miss your smile and the way your eyes shine when you do. I miss the sound of you singing to me, and I miss the sound of your laugh. I even miss the way you scold me when I distract you from your work. I cannot wait to hold you again, to kiss you again. You know me better than anyone, and I think you may even know me better than Faramir does. I miss you.

I must stop now, before someone walks by and sees me becoming a blubbering mess over a letter to my wife. Watch over Faramir, father is too hard on him. Don’t let him take anything my father says to heart. 

All my love,

Boromir

You weren’t sure when you had started crying, but a few tears dropped onto the fading words. It was a few moments later when you jumped, hearing the sound of a horn. The horn that signified someone was approaching the Citadel. Was Faramir back so soon?

You raced to the courtyard and saw a messenger there. He was carrying something wrapped in a cloth and he had a grim look on his face. The uneasiness you had been feeling for days crept up inside you, stronger than ever. The messenger looked at you and showed you what was wrapped in the cloth. The Horn of Gondor. Cloven in two. Boromir had taken that with him when he left for Rivendell. That means…

“I’m sorry, my lady,” the messenger said quietly.

You heard a scream of anguish, the saddest thing you had ever heard. It took you a moment to realize the sound had come from you. You weren’t sure how long you stayed there sobbing, but it was long enough that your handmaiden became worried. She and Ioreth found you and took you to your rooms, but you barely even noticed they were there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You knew Gandalf had arrived in the city with a hobbit that day, and you waited outside the throne room while they spoke to Denethor. You had worn nothing but black for 6 days, since news of Boromir’s fate had reached Minas Tirith. You knew you should put on a finer dress to greet your guests, but you couldn’t bring yourself to wear anything else. All your dresses were ones Boromir had bought for you.

You looked up as Gandalf exited, followed by the halfling. He stopped when he saw you and gave you a look of sympathy. 

“My lady… I wish we were meeting again in happier times,” he said quietly.

“As do I, Mithrandir,” you replied. Turning to the halfling you spoke again, “I know Gandalf, but we have not met, what is your name?”

“Pippin, my lady. You are Boromir’s wife aren’t you?” 

“Yes, Boromir was my husband… I understand you are a friend of his,” you said, waving away Gandalf’s attempt to scold the hobbit.

“I like to think so... He spoke of you often. He loved you, and he was right, you are indeed beautiful, my lady,” Pippin blushed a little and looked down. 

“Thank you,” you hesitated. You weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer to your next question, but you had to ask. “How did he die?” 

Pippin looked at Gandalf, as if asking permission. With a nod from Gandalf he turned from you again. 

“He died defending me and my kinsman, Merry. We were north of here at Amon Hen, near the statues of the old kings. There were many Uruk-Hai and he fought bravely to save us. He was pierced by 3 arrows before he fell.” he said.

Your slowly cracking facade of composure finally broke. You tried not to openly sob, but you couldn’t stop the tears leaving your eyes. That sounded like your Boromir. Fighting to defend those who could not defend themselves.

“Thank you, Pippin,” you whispered. “For telling me. I am glad he was at least able to save you and your friend. I hope I get to meet Merry some day.” 

“I hope we will see him again too, my lady,” he answered. 

“Gandalf? Watch over this one. He is brave and he has a good heart. Boromir would be proud of him,” you said with a sad smile.

Gandalf squeezed your shoulder gently before leading Pippin away. You watched them go, trying to keep your tears at bay. Yes, you could see why Boromir loved this little hobbit. Even from the short conversation, you could see it. 

You wandered to your rooms again, telling your handmaiden not to disturb you unless absolutely necessary; you wanted to be alone. You went through your wardrobe, looking for one of the shirts Boromir had left behind. When you found one, you held it close to your face. You could still smell him on it, you didn’t want to think about when you would no longer be able to. 

You collapsed onto your bed, sobbing into the shirt, clutching it tightly to your chest. 

Boromir was gone, and he wouldn’t be able to come back to you now. You wouldn’t kiss him again, or hold him or fall asleep next to him. You wouldn’t have children that you would raise to be healers and warriors. You would be alone now for the rest of your days, with nothing but his memory.

Tags: @rzrcrst​ @longitud-de-onda​

#lord of the rings #lord of the rings fanfic #lord of the rings fanfiction #boromir #boromir x reader #boromir fanfic #boromir fanfiction #get ready for sadness

[goldenponcho]

Unlikely Friends

Merry And Pippin meet a very unusual new friend in Fangorn Forest, and Pippin is developing the strangest crush.

Pippin/OC

The cool night air wafted through the branches of the sleeping trees, swirling gently along the forest floor and through the curly locks of the two tiny hobbits who slumbered in a cradle of roots and moss. It had seemed ages since Merry and Pippin had slept so soundly. Trying to sleep when hanging from the back of a galloping Uruk was a chore more than anything, and the poor hobbits’ aching arms and wrists finally rested lax agains the roots hugging their sleeping forms.

But a pointed ear caught the rustling of nearby foliage, and Peregrin Took’s eyes flashed open. As the haze of sleep left him, he registered where he was, and slowly, he made out the shuffling and hushed voices only yards away from the small clearing they lie in.

“Merry,” he whispered to his friend, who dozed in a bed of roots next to him. “Merry!” He prodded at the other hobbit’s side, who recoiled with an irritated groan.

“What is it, Pip?” he mumbled blearily without opening his eyes.

“Wake up! There’s somethin’ in the woods!”

Meriadoc Brandybuck rolled over, rubbing the back of a hand over closed eyes, and propped himself lazily on an elbow to listen. Slowly, his brows knit together, and he opened his eyes, now wide awake as well.

“More than one somethin’s…”

With the snapping of twigs and rattling of leaves underfoot, the murmuring drew closer.

Merry tugged Pippin’s sleeve as he stood, “Get up! We’ve got to hide! Now!”

The two halflings hurried quietly to huddle behind a large elm tree on the opposite side from the direction the voices came from.

“Right about now, I’m missin’ dwarf especially.” The voice was nasally and higher pitched, “Now that’s red meat if I’ve ever tasted it! Nicely marbled too. You ever ‘ad dwarf, Traz?”

The other approacher gave a steady sigh, “Can’t say I’ve partaken.” This voice was deeper than the first but clearly female, though with a subtly gruff edge.

“Closest I can compare it to is a nice hearty mutton. Plenty chewy!”

Pippin’s breath caught in his throat. Orcs! Not now! Not again!

“If you don’t stop talkin’ about food, we’ll see how chewy you are…”

The hobbit realized then that he had never seen a female orc before, and even through his fear, he felt the urge to take a peek. And that’s what he did. Slowly, carful as to not scrape his clothing against the tree bark, he moved to have a look around the tree. He could make out the silhouettes of one smaller orc and another one about the size of a fully grown man.

“I bet you’d like to see how chewy I am…”

He was almost certain the male voice had come from the smaller one. That larger one had to be…uruk-hai, were they called? He squinted to make out her features. It was impossible to decipher much other than the thick furs that outlined her form against the night sky. Just as he caught himself looking a bit too long, a twig snapped under his heel.

“Pippin!” Merry exclaimed silently and caught his cousin’s cloak by the collar to steady him and pull him back behind the tree. They weren’t left long to wonder if the pair had heard him.

“We know you’re there…” the female orc warned, her tone dry and unshaken.

The frightened hobbits heard them step closer alongside their tree, and Merry grabbed Pippin’s arm and pulled him to sneak around the opposite side. The two thought for a moment they might be able to slip away undetected, but Pippin turned to be met with eyes peering down upon him, glowing as they reflected the blue moonlight.

He gave a shriek, alerting Merry to the danger, and they shot in the opposite direction, only to be set upon by the smaller orc, who still practically towered over them. They narrowly dodged the creature, Pippin jabbing an elbow in it’s side for good measure.

“Oi!” the orc hissed, “That weren’t called for!”

“Stop!” the other commanded, but the hobbits ran as fast as their short legs could carry them.

And that’s when Merry was snatched into the air by the net he had stepped into just ahead of Pippin.

The other halfling stopped in his tracks, “Merry!!”

“Go, Pip! I’ll be fine!!” he reached for his sword and struggled to free it.

“I’m not leaving you, Merry!” He froze as he heard heavy footfalls sprint to stop behind him, and he turned on his heel, and unsheathed his own sword.

“Don’t you touch him!” Pippin’s voice shook more than he would have liked.

“Woah! We’re not here to hurt you!” the female orc still remained featureless under the cloak of night, “Calm down and don’t move another inch.”

She stepped gingerly forward, and Pippin held out his sword defensively, “I’m warning you! I’ve had training!”

“Heeyyy…I believe you, but there’s no need for any of that.”

There was a rustling behind him, and Pippin whirled around and lashed out at the other orc behind him with his sword, “I said get AWAY from him!!”

“No! No! Don’t run that-“ a loud metallic snap and a searing pain in his ankle sent the poor hobbit toppling, and he cried out in pain, his vision a swirl of darkness. He sobbed as he grabbed at his foot to find it caught in a metal vice.

He saw the glowing eyes approaching closer again, “That’s what I was trying to tell you…”

“Get away from him!! You won’t eat my friend!!” He struck out blindly with his sword, and he heard it make contact as the orc snarled in pain.

“Hey!! Would you LISTEN to me! I’m trying to help you!”

“Help me?!” he cringed at the throbbing in his leg, “You’re an orc!”

“Don’t trust her, Pippin!” Merry called, through pants as he attempted to saw through the thick netting with his blade.

“I am…” she kneeled slowly to come closer to eye level with him, “And I’m here to help you. You HAVE to trust me.”

The apparent gentleness in her voice took him aback, and his sword wavered for a moment before he caught himself and directed it firmly towards her, “You swear on your life?! You swear on…on…” he fumbled for something an orc could be held accountable to, “…on your lord, Sauron, that you won’t harm us?”

“If it makes you feel better…” he could see well enough to make out her raise her right hand and put the other over her chest, “I swear on the MAGNIFICENT and ALMIGHTY Lord Sauron!”

“Be serious, now!”

She chuckled, “I’m sorry! I’m not exactly a huge Sauron fanatic. May I disarm that bear trap on your leg, now? I believe it was hurting you.”

His brow furrowed as he tried to read the ghostly eyes before him, until he finally nodded into the darkness, swallowing hard, “Fine.”

He heard Merry give a sound of disappointment and as the lady orc scooted toward Pippin, she nodded to her companion, “Scraw, could you CAREFULLY get our other friend out of that net, PLEASE?”

Though it was clearly said in half jest, Pippin found it strange to hear an orc utter the word “please”. She only had time to remove what seemed to be a lantern from her side when a chop, followed by Merry’s scream and collision with the ground echoed through the forest.

“That’s why I specified CAREFULLY!” she rolled her eyes muttering under her breath, “... pa-gog aukuk...”

“Sorry!” Scraw shrugged, then hoisted the freed hobbit roughly to his feet, dusting his cloak off for him.

Merry backed away, “Yes, yes! I’m fine! Thank you!”

“I’m going to remove my scythe from my belt so I can light this tinderbox,” she waved the little round tin toward Pippin, “Is that alright?”

He calmed his unsteady breath at the word “scythe” and nodded. She sat the opened tin on the ground, then slowly removing said short handled scythe, she struck the flint along the side of the blade. The box smoked, and Pippin could barely see only hints of her face as she blew on the glowing tinder. Then, the lantern was lit and with a flutter of flame, the young female orc’s face was finally illumined.

Pippin was surprised at what he saw. Her features had a certain harshness to them, but it was perhaps only because her dramatically arched brows were knitted in concentration. She wasn’t nearly so grotesque as the creatures they had escaped from the night before. She had dark eyes, he thought black, even, under even blacker bushy hair that blended seamlessly into the furs on her shoulders and back. Her nose was broad and almost flat, and full lips partially hid the large fangs in her slightly open mouth. Teeth were normally the defining feature of most orcs, but when her mouth closed completely, they were almost entirely hidden. More than anything, she reminded Pippin of a large cat, like the ones he had seen in pictures from the old books Bilbo Baggins owned, calmly basking in the afternoon sun.

Pippin was so lost in thought that he barely registered her say “Hold your breath,” before she had firmly gripped either jaw of the trap and forced them open. He hissed with a sharp inhale as his ankle seared, then dulled to a throbbing ache.

“Is it broken?!” Merry approached his friend.

“Probably snapped the little thing right in two,” Scraw, approaching close behind, nodded with a snort and a smirk in his voice, “Might ‘ave teh amputate, eh, Trazna?”

“Stop trying to scare them, pinhead!” Trazna berated her less than helpful companion, then nodded to Pippin, “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.” And before Pippin could nod his consent, the entire forest seemed to rustle and the THUMP THUMP THUMP of something massive fast approached them.

Trazna gasped as she turned in time to see the massive ent lunge for her, and all Merry and Pippin had time to do was shriek “Treebeard!!” and “Treebeard! NO!!” She let out a startled yelp that transitioned into an animalistic growl as Treebeard grabbed her by the leg and hoisted her up to dangle in front of his large, barked face.

“Orc!” his mighty voice rumbled, “You dare to prey on MY hobbits?!”

Trazna huffed, “I wasn’t preying on anything! YOUR hobbit is injured!”

“By your doing, I see!” Treebeard arched a craggy brow.

“She did help us, Treebeard,” Pippin urged his large friend, whose skeptical glare flashed between the two.

“We didn’t know anyone else was here.” Trazna assured, “We set the traps to catch deer and rabbits, not people.”

“And you would NEVER satisfy your hunger with a couple of tender young halflings such as these?”

It was now that Trazna noted that Scraw was nowhere to be seen. Incompetent coward... “It might surprise you, but I don’t make it a habit of eating things that can talk to me.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“She’s telling the truth! Right, Merry?”

Merry glanced to Pippin, a bit more skeptical than his cousin, but he nodded, “He’s right, Treebeard. We thought they were after us, but they were trying to warn us about the traps.”

“TRAPS?! More than one?!” Treebeard glared toward the captive lady orc.

“There are five others,” Trazna confessed, “We can remove them if it pleases you. But now, I need to tend to your friend’s wound, or it’ll fester. And I’d really prefer to be right side up again; the blood’s pooling into my head.”

“She would have taken us by now if she had wanted us,” Pippin winced as his injured ankle brushed the ground, “And the whole festering wound thing sounds even less pleasant than being eaten…”

“If I try anything, you have every right to stomp me into the ground.”

Treebeard creaked with a long grumble, seeming to be on the border of being convinced, then he exhaled slowly, rattling his own leaves as well as the ones surrounding them, and he dropped her none too gently to the ground.

She landed on her back not far from Merry with an “oof!”. “Thanks…” she mumbled not exactly in appreciation, untangling herself from the long furs now flopped over her head. Then, rubbing her side, she got to her feet to come and kneel next to Pippin.

“I’m gonna pick you up, now. Alright?”

Pippin’s stomach leapt into his throat, but he nodded, with a small “yes”.

Trazna lifted the halfling into her arms with no effort, treating his sore foot as tenderly as a bird’s broken wing. Those dark eyes glanced down kindly into his, the moon only reflecting off them slightly, “Pippin, wasn’t it?”

He felt his cheek brush lightly against the soft fur of her cowl, and he thanked the gods she couldn’t see the color in them in the darkness, “Yes! Uh…Peregrin Took…but most call me Pippin.” He had realized just as he had begun speaking that she actually might be able to see him growing red in the dark. Orcs were, after all, known for being active in very low light.

“Traznarad,” she stopped in front of a tree, “You can call me Trazna.” She knelt to lie him delicately in a mossy patch between the roots, placing the lantern next to them, then went to take hold of his foot, “I’ll be gentle, but tell me if this hurts.” She slowly began rotating his ankle, and he inhaled lightly.

“That hurt?”

He nodded, “A little…”

“Is it broken?” Merry repeated his earlier question, “Honestly, Pippin, if you broke it, I think we might really be up the creek…”

The younger hobbit scowled, “I didn’t do it on PURPOSE, Merry!”

Trazna shook her head, “I don’t think it’s broken. But you should stay off it for a few days,” she nodded toward Treebeard, “I’m assuming your friend can help you with that.”

She turned to Merry, who she came nearly eye level with even in her crouched position, “Do you know what an athelas plant looks like, Merry?”

He nodded, “Kingsfoil! I’ll find some!”

“That way,” she pointed behind him, “There are no traps that way.”

Merry quickly took to the woods behind him, leaving her and Treebeard to look after Pippin. “Yeah, it’s definitely not broken,” she felt around his ankle, careful not to irritate the exposed wounds on either side, “You’d definitely be carryin’ on a lot more if it was,” here eyes met his, “You have some impressively strong bones.”

The halfling chuckled lightly, “Well…hobbits are surprisingly sturdy creatures, you know.”

She smirked as the little hobbit puffed out his chest as best as he could in his horizontal position, “Are they really? I hadn’t met one before, to be honest.”

“Oh?! Well, then, might I say that I’m happy to be the first,” he grinned, “And I’m sure Merry is happy to be the second.” Trazna laughed, baring fangs that didn’t seem quite so terrifying as before.

Trazna procured a small stone basin, filling it with a bit of water and looked up to address Treebeard looming above them, “With your permission, Treebeard, I’ll need to build a small fire to boil this water.”

Concern crossed the ent’s jagged features, “Always burning. Always flaming!” he heaved a rumbling sigh, “But what must be done…must be done.”

She nodded with a look of reassurance, “I’ll put it out like a responsible camper.”

As she set the basin over the fire she had made, Merry sprang forth from the brush, a fistful of kingsfoil in each hand, “We won’t want for kingsfoil here! The underbrush is loaded with it!”

“Fantastic!” Trazna motioned to the slightly bubbling water, “Toss it there.” As Merry followed her instruction, she settled to rest on her haunches to wait.

Pippin watched in fascination as the sweet smell of the athelas permeated the air and put him at ease, “We’ve only met one other person who knew about kingsfoil other than the elves.”

Trazna nodded, “Well…people tend to forget that orcs were once elves,” she retrieved two bottles, one thin and empty, the other larger and full of an amber liquid. She handed them to Merry, “Fill this halfway, if you would, Merry.”

Merry did again as he was bid, and Pippin’s smile wavered, “So then...those stories...what Morgoth did to the elves...it’s all true.”

The water had boiled and fizzled out quickly only to leave behind the mushy leaves, which she scooped out and handed toward Merry, “It’s what is widely believed. And it certainly lines up with the...circumstances I’ve witnessed,” Merry gave a look of sadness as well as she portioned some of the plant into the vial with quick instruction to shake the corked concoction, and Trazna paused in realization of how much she had dampened the conversation. She smiled reassuringly, “But it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done, and besides...” she smirked between the two, “I can catch twenty rabbits with my teeth in the time it takes an elf with his fancy little bow and arrow to shoot one.”

Pippin laughed, and Merry looked slightly startled before laughing as well.

“How’s this?” Merry held up the now viscous mixture.

“Perfect!” Trazna took it shaking it once more for good measure, then uncorked it, “One thing elves DON’T know, is that a mixture of pine sap, olive oil, and beeswax can act as an antiseptic and speeds the healing process even more.”

“Oh, grand!” Pippin leaned to watch as she made ready to apply the mixture, “What’s “antiseptic”?”

Merry rolled his eyes at the simplicity of his friend and ruffled his curly hair playfully as he sat next to him, “It means it will keep your smelly old foot from rotting right off!”

Trazna approached with the amber liquid gleaming in the moonlight, “Alright, this will sting.” Pippin braced himself before wincing with a barely muffled whimper of pain. “Sorry,” she winced as well in sympathy, retrieving a bit of cloth to dress the wound.

Pippin exhaled steadily, glancing from where she tied the bandage then up to her face, “Thank you.”

“It’s really the least I can do…” she faltered as admiring green eyes stared into black. She was about to continue before they heard a call from nearby.

“Traznarad!!” the voice was deep and rasping.

The orc woman stood, “Maugor!”

“More orcs!” Treebeard stepped between them and the group of orcs and one intimidatingly large troll next to which stood Scraw, looking especially proud of himself for bringing reinforcements.

“It’s alright, Treebeard, they’re with me!” Trazna stepped around the ent’s massive leg.

“What’s going on?” Maugor eyed the massive creature next to her with a warning glare, then the two halflings behind them. Merry and Pippin stiffened at the sight of the large orc. If there was any doubt that Trazna was an uruk, there was none whatsoever with this creature. He stood at least as tall as any of them they had encountered in the hoard the previous night, and he wielded an impossibility large battle hammer. Hair as black as Trazna’s flowed down his back in a braided crest, and the fangs that jutted from his lower jaw were large enough to be considered tusks.

“It’s ok!” Trazna held a calming hand toward her companions, “The little ones got snagged in our traps. I just finished dressing one of their wounds.”

The small pack lowered their weapons; even the troll deflated a bit, looking a bit dim instead of angry and intimidating. Maugor stepped forward as Treebeard as well let down his guard, “Come, then. We must take leave of this forest. It seems it is much too dangerous for our kind here.”

“Well we can’t just leave them to starve,” Trazna pled kneeling back down to help Pippin prop himself against the tree’s trunk.

The youngest hobbit’s ears perked at the possibility of food, and as usual, he was the first to speak up, “Our friend Treebeard can offer his protection while you’re here.” Maugor’s intense gaze darted to him, and his brain stammered for his next words.

“Treebeard can, can he?” the ent rumbled.

The uruk bowed slightly, a motion that belied his savage appearance, “I understand that a hoard of orcs and trolls may not be of much comfort to you, but we do not intend to bring your forest or its inhabitants any harm,” he stood to his full seven feet at least, “Save for a deer or two; we do have to eat.”

Trazna scoffed, “We’re hardly a hoard, anyway; there are only nine of us.”

““Very well...” Treebeard creaked, “…we will allow you shelter until you must take your leave.”

“Take your leave!” Scraw jabbed his elbow into the leg of the troll who stood beside him, “Ya get that, Bognaut? That’s a tree joke.”

“Tha’s a clever one, tha’ is,” Bognaut slurred with a low but not exactly intimidating laugh.

Maugor turned to the orc next to him with a nod, “Fintherok, take Deak and Babgoth to check the rest of the traps. I smell a doe nearby; perhaps we’ve caught it.” Fintherok did as his leader had instructed, quickly disappearing into the woods with the other two orcs, and Maugor turned to the younger uruk, “You had best hope there’s more than just a doe in those traps, Trazna; we can barely keep eight orcs and a troll fed as it is.”

She looked up at him, still perched on the balls of her feet above Pippin, “Well, come on! How much could two halflings eat?”

Said two halflings gave each other a sheepish look, “Right!” Pippin quickly recovered, “How much could we eat?”

After two does and two rabbits were retrieved from their traps. Fintheroth, a tall, lithe orc and Babgoth, a small, female orc with large eyes, skinned and gutted the catch a ways off in the woods. Not much went to waste, though, as many of the orcs didn’t mind eating the organs or even chewing on bones and sucking out the marrow, so the meat was divvied up and done with as each party member pleased. Traznarad showed the hobbits how to make a pit oven, where their fire could be easily controlled and not endanger the forest, something for which Treebeard was silently grateful for.

Merry and Pippin…though, especially Pippin, revealed their ill proportioned appetites quite quickly. The two were given the rabbits, roasted and even seasoned nicely in their newly built pit. Trazna as well preferred her meat cooked, though, she had said with a toothy grin, she liked it quite rare.

The band of bizarre characters laughed amongst themselves as they ate, many roughhousing and sharing less than savory tales of exploits and bragging, much in the way they had witnessed with Saruman’s hoard before, but in a rather more pleasant nature. Trazna sat with the hobbits, enjoying the new company.

“So Maugor…” Merry said somewhat under his breath, “He’s your…”

“Oh! We’re not related,” Trazna shook her head, taking a bite of the venison flank she had wrapped in a leaf to hold a bit like a sandwich, “But…we have been together for a long time. We escaped one of the breeding pits near  Mordor together a decade ago. No, my birth father was killed when I was quite young.”

“I’m sorry,” Pippin abandoned his rabbit for the first time since it had been handed to him to look at her sadly.

“That’s alright,” she returned a sad but reassuring smile, “I remember him a little…but not much.”

“Was he an uruk?” Merry continued, before taking a bite from the leg he had dislocated from his own rabbit.

“No, actually, I…” she paused, considering her words, “…I don’t know whether I would be considered an uruk myself, or not,” the halflings now gave her full attention, “My father was an orc from Mordor, and my mother is a half orc from Harad. See, I was born naturally, whereas Maugor and his kind were born from the ground,” she shook her head, a slightly strained look crossing her features, “I don’t know the exact process, but I know it’s a lot less pleasant, all things considered.”

Pippin forced his less mature side to ignore the implications of this statement, instead inquiring elsewhere, “Your mother is still alive, then?”

“Yes,” the shine in her dark eyes glittered, half in reminiscence and half in sorrow, “She’s a prisoner in Harad. That’s where we’re going. We wanna free the captive men and orcs there.”

“Captive?” Merry’s brow furrowed, “Aren’t the Haradrim sided with orcs?”

“No one sides with orcs. They side with Sauron,” she gave a dry laugh, “Orcs are pawns just like everyone else in Harad. There’s hardly a choice in anything for an orc. If we decide we don’t feel like terrorizing innocents anymore, we aren’t exactly given the choice to leave freely,” her gaze turned to Pippin, whose green eyes stared wide with a now idle cheek-ful of rabbit, “Orcs are all prisoners, and we’re specifically conditioned not to realize it,” she shook her head, now leering into nothingness as she tore off a chunk of meat. “But not us…” she glanced back toward the hobbits mid chew, “Not ME.”

Pippin frowned in thought. He had never considered the orcs as prisoners before. Truthfully, they all seemed to enjoy the destruction and cruelty they inflicted on the weak and innocent. But then again…most armies seemed overly keen on bringing death down upon the enemy, and as Sauron intended to bring darkness to the world, he would seem like a hero to creatures that feared light. He came to realize that this made the whole thing even more disturbing.

These musings were pushed out of his mind as Trazna nodded to them. “Being a captive did teach me some useful skills, though,” she went to her belt again and retrieved what looked to be a small metal and an irregularly shaped lump of copper, “Most orcs unwillingly under Sauron work in one of the industrialized areas created by Saruman,” she began shaving away at the little chunk of copper meticulously, “I learned metalworking there.”

Merry’s golden curls bounced as he shook his head, “I thought orcs only made crude armor and weaponry.”

“Well,” Trazna gave a matter-of-fact shrug, “That’s what we were SUPPOSED to make. But I made other things when I could. You can bet I got flogged for it more than once though. I did make it out with these!” She pulled out her scythe and, to both hobbits’ surprise, in a quick twist of her wrists the gleaming blade was now two separate weapons.

Pippin shuddered, “I suppose you could do a bit of ghastly damage with those.”

“Sure…” she pursed her lips indifferently, “…but they can do a lot more than that. I can climb a wall with them, I can light kindling with them,” she ran a nail across the abrasive sides of the blade she had used to light kindling earlier, then sliced at the air, “If there are branches in my way, I can hack down-“

Treebeard grumbled next to them, startling all as they had almost forgotten he was about.

“…my internalized…disrespect towards nature?” she continued sheepishly with a chuckle, and the ent grumbled something intelligible before retreating to whatever tree business he saw to each night. She handed each half of the versatile tool to each halfling for them to look at.

Each examined the intricate details of their half, and Merry traced fingers along the blade, “The engraving is like somethin’ ya might see in a dwarvish...even an elvish weapon.”

She bowed her head, “I took a bit of inspiration from both...of course, with a bit of an orcish twist.”

“You made these?!” Pippin half asked, half exclaimed in awe, carefully testing the sharpness of the tool, before looking up to what she worked on now, “And what kind of tool will that be?”

She looked up to him, a slow smile spreading across her face, “It’s a duck.” She held up the little copper piece, and indeed, it was taking the unmistakeable shape of a water fowl.

Pippin nodded, grinning stupidly, “Ah! So it is!”

The corner of her mouth twitched as she suppressed an amused chuckle as Merry, took the two blades and twisted them into one, handing it to Trazna, who put it back in its holster.

“So…” she continued, casually going back to her carving, “...what do hobbits usually do when they’re not hauling an elvish weapon of mass destruction across the continent?”

Pippin went moon-eyed, “You know about the ring? OW!!”

Merry elbowed his cousin hard with a warning glare.

“I do now…” Trazna paused again to gaze up at the now guilty expression on the young hobbit’s face, “All we knew was that it was a weapon, and Sauron wanted it,” she eyed the two with a knowing smirk, “It’s THE ring, isn’t it? You have THAT ring with you?”

“Not us…”

“PIPPIN!!!” Merry scolded his friend a second time.

“We can trust her, Merry!” Pippin argued, “Don’t you think she’s proved that by now?!”

“Frodo didn’t even trust all of the Fellowship with it!” Merry shook his golden head, “Gandalf wanted it secret for a reason!”

Trazna held up her hands defensively, “Hey! Say no more! If you can’t talk about it, I won’t ask.”

Pippin looked to her apologetically, “I’m sorry. We mean no offense…”

She grinned down to him, “None taken.” Pippin lowered his head, trying to hide any evidence of the heat he could feel in his cheeks, as she continued, “It would probably be best that neither of us spoke of the other to anyone after tonight...according to the enemy, we’re all up to no good.”

The halflings smiled to each other, and Merry nodded, “Nothing’s changed there. That’s what we were known for back home; bein’ up to no good.”

“Oh, yeah?!” Trazna arched an eyebrow, holding up the copper duck to examine her progress before putting it down, “Have we run into a couple of delinquents in the deep, dark woods?”

Pippin’s eyes twinkled with mischief, always one to take the opportunity to brag, “We were in the middle of raiding Farmer Maggot’s crops when our journey found us,” he elbowed his cousin with a cackle, “We made off with quite a haul that day, eh, Merry?”

Merry nodded with a chuckle, and Trazna clutched at the carved string of teeth about her neck as if they were pearls, “Morgoavh’uk thos! You’re a couple of criminals!”

Pippin grinned cheekily, picking his teeth with a rib, “Aye! Already got holda’ some a’ yer spoils at it is!”

Trazna laughed heartily, “Ya know, as a kid back in Harad, we used to-“

“I’m sorry, Traznarad, but we must move on,” Maugor interrupted, and the trio turned their attention to the towering uruk, “We only have a few hours more of darkness, and we won’t get far once the sun rises.”

Her face fell before turning to face the two hobbits with a sad smile, “Well...I guess this is it, then...”

Merry and Pippin adopted the same solemn looks as Trazna stood, and Pippin felt a pang of regret that their new friend had to leave. It hadn’t been until now that he had truly realized that parting ways was inevitable and that it would bring him sadness. He felt a slight tightness in his throat, “I guess so...”

Trazna knelt, placing a hand on each of the hobbits’ small shoulders to give them an affectionate squeeze, “Don’t get into more trouble than you must.”

“A bit late for that,” Merry gave a dry laugh.

“Do you think we might see you again?” Pippin had blurted the question before he realized how stupid it was. Trazna beamed down at him, cupping his cheek and rubbing a gentle thumb across it. Pippin’s heart thumped at the intimate contact as Trazna seemed to be searching for an answer.

“If I say yes, maybe we will.”

Pippin took the hand that had been on his cheek between his significantly smaller ones, “Then we’ll see you then.”

She nodded, “Goodbye, Pippin...Merry.”

They said their final goodbyes and watched as Traznarad and her clan retreated into the dense wood.

Finally, Merry spoke, a knowing smirk across his face, “Well, I never thought I’d see that of you, my dear Peregrin.”

Pippin cocked his curly head, “See what?!”

“All starry-eyed over an orc woman?” Merry shook his head dramatically, “What would the folks back home think?”

Pippin’s jaw dropped with a scoff, “I was NOT “starry-eyed”!!”

“No shame in it, Pippin! She’s quite pretty,” Merry patted his now beet-red faced friend on the shoulder, “ESPECIALLY pretty for an orc.”

The younger hobbit pouted, shrugging off Merry’s hand.

“Come on, Pip,” he chided, “She was sweet on you.”

Pippin’s head snapped in his friend’s direction, “She was?!” Merry’s grin was wide and smug, and Pippin straightened as tall as he could, “I mean…of course, she was!” He waggled his head proudly, thumbs hooked under his suspenders, “No female is immune to the Took charm, no matter the race!”

“Yeah?” Merry cackled, “Or maybe she really did want to eat you but was just too polite.” Pippin looked wounded before Merry mussed his curly hair. Noting the melancholy that had shrouded his friend’s countenance, he continued, “Who could say...maybe you will see her again.”

A slow smile once again spread over Pippin’s face, and he seemed himself again, “Yeah, maybe we will.”

Black speech phrases (Forgive me if these aren’t exactly accurate.) Pa-gog aukuk — dumbass Morgoavh’uk thos! — Morgoth’s balls!

#pippin #peregrin took #lord of the rings fic #pippin/oc #hobbit/orc

[pangtasias-atelier]

Cure for the Curse

I kinda like emulating the passiveness of the game's writing by not having the master actually speak so we're gonna roll with that for at least this story, will definitely/most likely change for other ideas.

___________

Sitting at his desk, Gilgamesh tosses a book back into his gate, the contents of it easily understood by him but his lack of practice in his caster form made casting magic belonging to the Age of the Gods nigh impossible without some error or repercussions.

Which led to his current predicament of his master's constant fawning over Siegfried.

His revenge for being humiliated from his master's betrayal on Valentine's was unsuccessful. Cursing Siegfried to fatten up only led to his master spending more time and attention on him. Now he, the great King of Uruk, has less time with his master in Chaldea. The main benefit from his curse led to Siegfried being pulled out of all battles. Now Gilgamesh was the single team leader and the one who his master rightfully fawned over.

The hole in their formation from Siegfried no longer being fit for battle led to summoning attempts from his master. To Gilgamesh's anger, his master had summoned Yan Qing, the assassin worming his way to his master's heart. Now even Gilgamesh's time with his master in battle was split between him and Yan Qing. And his already split time with his master in Chaldea was split further from this new servant. Gilgamesh still ranks first, which is only what he cares about he lies to himself, he has no reason to curse Yan. But the assassin still infuriates him, Yan beneath his master.

Right on time, Gilgamesh smirks at the knock on his door, his master on time. Gracious enough to allow him in, Gilgamesh announces that his door is unlocked.

Rather than his master, Yan enters the room.

Gilgamesh internally groans, his clairvoyance failing him again now that the end of the world was averted and 2018 now a reality previously thought impossible to come.

"State your reason, then leave," Gilgamesh turns back to his books.

"Master's not visiting today. He fell asleep and he wanted me to tell you," Eyes narrowed, Yan doesn't leave.

"Useless information; I'm busy enough without visitors, next time inform him to not waste my time,"

"Master said you'd be upset regardless of whether I told you or not. He wanted you to not waste your time looking for him," Taking Gilgamesh's tightened shoulders as a warning, Yan takes his leave. Or pretends to, stopping at the door. "I know you cursed Siegfried," Yan smirks, taking a confident step to leave.

The door slams shut, Yan still inside who rapidly turns to face Gilgamesh.

Standing up from his seat, Gilgamesh sighs as he glares down at the shorter man.

"Have you informed anyone else?" Forehead furrowing, Gilgamesh holds his sigh as he taps his foot against the floor.

"No. It's fun-"

"How did you discover this?" Rubbing his temples, Gilgamesh sighs.

"An assassin has to keep some secrets. I will say that I learned on my own, no help from anyone else," Not willing to divulge further, Yan crosses his hands behind his head, smiling at the ever frustrated Gilgamesh.

"If that's all," Gilgamesh throws his axe at Yan. Sensing his doom far ahead of time, Yan says a goodbye before disappearing swiftly, Gilgamesh's axe lodging itself into his wall.

Cursing at his misfortune, two servants now knowing of his actions, Gilgamesh counts to ten. The number ten leaving his lips, Gilgamesh sighs, shoulders sagging.

He could curse Yan, but with the revelation of his master appreciating Siegfried's newfound girth, Gilgamesh has no idea what curse would even work. Ignoring Yan and focusing on the root of the problem, Siegfried, he clenches his cheek, his blood boiling.

Thinking about Da Vinci's marvels with inventions, she'd perhaps help, at a cost. Whatever the cost Gilgamesh could easily pay it hundred times over, the only costly thing to him being his pride. Saving Da Vinci as a last resort, he resumes his research, his treasury providing the finest to offer.

--------

"Master," Siegfried keeps his gaze focused on the floor. Being his master's original servant, Siegfried had the honors of being the favorite and thus was always found in his master's room. That changed once Gilgamesh had been summoned, the two swapping the spot often. Their split role was split once again upon Yan's arrival much later.

Even with his expanding waistline, Siegfried still shared the spot with Gilgamesh and Yan, but he was too oblivious to notice that he had been recieving extra attention as of late.

"You should dismiss me. A servant like I am is of no use to you," shifting in his spot, Siegfried winces at the strain on his master's bed. The mattress never meant for someone his size. He would never think about sitting on it but his master's insistence made him feel ungrateful to not do as his master asked.

Hearing his master's insistence on keeping him, Siegfried sighs. "Sorry," Siegfried jerks up upon the light scrape of his master's chair. Facing his master, Siegfried rises to stand up only for a hand to gently place itself on his shoulder.

Siegfried merely sighs once more, this time a slight smile adorning his face as his master praises him, claiming that Siegfried already served sufficiently by defeating Solomon. His master's hands on his fat cheeks, a smile on his master's face as he squishes and prods at them before they wander to his stomach, Siegfried remains quiet, a blush dusting his face.

---------

Walking straight into Da Vinci's workshop is typically setting up one's self for a lecture or getting kicked out by one of inventions. So unless you're expected by her or one of her usuals, one of the mentioned two will happen. Servants are no exception to this.

Ignoring the warnings from his teammates, the only one to not warm him being Gilgamesh, Yan Qing happily takes a step into Da Vinci's workshop. Immediately halted by a small robot, Yan smiles at the thing. Ready to punch it, his hand becomes ensnared by the robot's vice grip. Using his free hand to punch the robot, Yan frees himself to kick it. Foot making contact with the robot sent flying, five others of the same model come to its aid.

Backing up, Yan crouches. Ducking, he dodges a staff from his right.

Da Vinci scowls at him as she powers off her robots. "Next time, don't attack my inventions," Ignoring him, she checks up on the robot he kicked. "Minimal damage, right arm seems," muttering to herself, Yan ignores her.

"How did you know Gilgamesh cursed Siegfried?" Yan keeps his distance, eyes on the turned off robots.

"Magical traces. I am a genius after all. I can't allow dangerous things to happen to the servants without knowing the cause,"

"Do you know how to reverse it?"

"Who's asking? And what do they have it for me?" Back to Yan, Da Vinci smiles.

"I am,"

"I want something from Gilgamesh. Specifically 128 grams of lapis lazuli, 13 grams of emerald, and 39 grams of ruby. He clearly hasn't figured out a cure so get him to come to me," Da Vinci stands up as the robot comes back to life, arm now fixed. "Then I'm sure our master will pay you more attention," she adds, dusting off imaginary dust from her outfit.

Yan disappears, no comment for her last remark.

---------

Marching his way towards Da Vinci's workshop, Gilgamesh ignores all the Chaldean staff that avoid him. He ignores all servants as well.

Yan Qing telling him earlier about Da Vinci's plan convincing to confront her. Bag in hand with the requested material. The only thing Gilgamesh needed convincing was both Yan's and Da Vinci's silence regarding the matter, and their conclusion that the faster Siegfried's curse was remedied, the faster their master would get over him. Not that Gilgamesh visibly reacted to that part, keeping a straight face.

Entering Da Vinci's workshop, Gilgamesh encounters zero robots, Da Vinci for once not working on anything.

Hand outstretched, Da Vinci keeps the smile away from her face, needing the materials.

The bag dumped into her hand, she weighs it out first. Finding even a bit extra of each, she keeps that to herself again, happily accepting the bribe.

"Siegfried will be back to normal by tomorrow morning. Ciao!" Ushering him out, Da Vinci smiles as she begins working out her newest invention.

------------

The next day, to everyone's pleasure minus their master, Siegfried rejoins the team, his fit muscular figure returned.

------------

A week later, with the materials handed over by Gilgamesh, Da Vinci invites her master to her workshop. Revealing a new invention, capable of minimally tampering a servants' saint graph to alter their appearance. All for the, allegedly, low price of 300 saint quartz.

The intention clear to Da Vinci's master, all her terms a fancier way of saying, 'Change how a servant looks!' they agree, their hands slowly handing over the asked quartz. No time to back out, Da Vinci nearly shoves the device into her master's hands and happily escorts them out of her workshop.

All 300 saint quartz in her hand and with a skip in her step, Da Vinci prepares her instruments ready to sketch out the schematics for her next invention.

____________

Very little wg stuff, but wanted to resolve the story and also cliffhanger/segue into the next story that's actually wg based.

Just really needed to write some non-focused wg stories to get back into writng.

#fat grand order #male weight gain #mwg #my writing #fat!siegfried

[malaltis]

He showed her step by step how we went about preparing the traditional Japanese meals that were his forte with masterful precision. "Today Tiaga- I mean Jaguar Man mus be out on a mission. I normally can't cook this much without her or someone trying to claim the entire meal for themselves! Though don't worry, when you show me how to make Butter Cake, I'll be sure that it won't get stolen by greedy servants."

Siduri watched Shiro as she hummed nodding her head, thatwas such a delicious looking meal, honestly she didn’t know how much peoplewould eat at times but she did enjoy having moments where she could cook foreveryone , either big or small meals she would do whatever she needed to inorder to make her King and Guests feel at ease

“Ohmy that is quiet a masterful technique of a meal, and when the Butter Cake is made,I will make sure I make a special one just for you, Shiro…thank you forteaching me how to make such a traditional meal, I can show you how to make a traditionalmeal for  Sumerian’s”

She had paused for a moment before he brows had actually furrowed,she was thinking of something and truthfully she didn’t know how long Shiro  would be staying, of course she did know abouthow greedy Servants could be with certain meals, but she truthfully didn’t knowif they needed them in order to live

“WellI can at least hope you’re going to be staying quiet some time here in Uruk sothat way we can teach one another new recipes! I am quiet fond of cooking afterall , and wouldn’t mind learning some new meals…perhaps Gilgamesh would likethem as well! Of course I am going to try my best so you and the others loveyour meals as well!”

#𝐴 𝐹𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 (Ic) #𝑆𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑦 (Fate Verse) #𝑌𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑔𝑒 (Interactions) #Wall Flower (answer tag pending) #cursedjustice